pete nagy had a bowling ball that smelled like chocolate. also, he wanted mom to be as into quilting as he was. mom was always polite but you could see that deep down, half of the time she really wanted to give him her patented "Jehovah's Witness Treatment" which basically included a stern and loud "NO THANK YOU." and a slammed door.
The best approach (one I still use to this day) is to lure them into your parlor like you're a spider and they're a fly, then let 'em have it with both barrels of the gospel. The younger mormons squirm uncomfortably and get defensive, and the JWs try to talk louder than you.
I am protected from the pete nagy's and the JW's of the western texas region. thank you Laughlin AFB, HOWEVER i HAVE NO TACTIC for these knocks on the front door.
Mrs. Ladley told Jordan and I that she buried a lot of cats in her back yard. She was guarenteed to pay her newspaper bill in cash, on time, everytime. I think, one month, we collected from her twice. And she paid without hesitation.
Barefoot capture the flag at the playground was a timeless classic. I only wish I was made aware of the last time I would play this game, at the playground, until after dark when the grass cooled down so much that we needed shoes again.
I missed out on barefoot CTF. But I did often 'borrow' dads golf clubs to go down behind the church (this was before it was all clear cut a civilized) and hit golf balls with Ben and Nathan Marsh and Sean Lewis (and other assorted military castoff kids). That's how I learned a driver, hit solidly, could easily put a ball through a lower church window from what seemed like a long way away. Was probably only 120 yards. We'd also launch golf balls off our aluminum bats into the woods just past Pete Nagy's house. I think there's probably about 100 or more floating around back there, someday when they sell to a developer the foresic anthropologists will uncover those balls, plus a fair assortment of dads 'lost' tools we lugged back into the trees to build 'forts,' a rusty, red, heavier-than-crap fire ladder, and other items that I can't picture right this moment.
pete nagy had a bowling ball that smelled like chocolate.
ReplyDeletealso, he wanted mom to be as into quilting as he was. mom was always polite but you could see that deep down, half of the time she really wanted to give him her patented "Jehovah's Witness Treatment" which basically included a stern and loud "NO THANK YOU." and a slammed door.
The best approach (one I still use to this day) is to lure them into your parlor like you're a spider and they're a fly, then let 'em have it with both barrels of the gospel. The younger mormons squirm uncomfortably and get defensive, and the JWs try to talk louder than you.
ReplyDeleteI am protected from the pete nagy's and the JW's of the western texas region. thank you Laughlin AFB, HOWEVER i HAVE NO TACTIC for these knocks on the front door.
ReplyDeleteremember when jordan called mrs. wedeking "spock-eyes"?
ReplyDeleteremember "george" their black poodle? i think he died of second hand smoke-related emphysema.
ReplyDeletehow about Mrs. Ladly? She never saw that screen door coming.
ReplyDeleteMrs. Ladley told Jordan and I that she buried a lot of cats in her back yard. She was guarenteed to pay her newspaper bill in cash, on time, everytime. I think, one month, we collected from her twice. And she paid without hesitation.
ReplyDeleteThat's some weak sauce, you need to make amends by donating to www.felinefriendsofthelateMrsLadley.com.
ReplyDeleteWhat if...all these years went by and you finally realized that she was saying that she buried lots of 'cash' in her back yard?
i remember playing 2 on 2 soccer games w/ joel against wayne & rex... sometimes till dark. i think the final scores were something like 100 to 94.
ReplyDelete...funny how, for a kid whose club team's nickname for him was both "twinkle-toes" and "lead-foot", brian smith wasn't really that good...
ReplyDeleteBarefoot capture the flag at the playground was a timeless classic. I only wish I was made aware of the last time I would play this game, at the playground, until after dark when the grass cooled down so much that we needed shoes again.
ReplyDeleteI missed out on barefoot CTF. But I did often 'borrow' dads golf clubs to go down behind the church (this was before it was all clear cut a civilized) and hit golf balls with Ben and Nathan Marsh and Sean Lewis (and other assorted military castoff kids). That's how I learned a driver, hit solidly, could easily put a ball through a lower church window from what seemed like a long way away. Was probably only 120 yards. We'd also launch golf balls off our aluminum bats into the woods just past Pete Nagy's house. I think there's probably about 100 or more floating around back there, someday when they sell to a developer the foresic anthropologists will uncover those balls, plus a fair assortment of dads 'lost' tools we lugged back into the trees to build 'forts,' a rusty, red, heavier-than-crap fire ladder, and other items that I can't picture right this moment.
ReplyDeletei remember playing that stupid game, colored eggs, at the "shack" in the back of the playground. what a dumb game. where did that come from?
ReplyDelete