"Reminds Me of Childhood Memories"

I don't tend to talk about my childhood much, mostly because I've spent decades repressing it. This is because I hate children even more than I hate myself.

Children are short, smelly and can't hold their fucking liquor. Christ, I'm not fully convinced that males under six feet tall are even human, which should tell you all you need to know about my feelings towards kids. I'd be completely comfortable if the voting age was raised to thirty-five and everyone under twenty was subject to being fired out cannons during wartime.

Whenever I'm forced to remember that I was once like that I feel like going Hemingway. I therefore tend to stuff my childhood into the same tiny ball of rage deep inside of me that makes me the world-famous blogger that I've become.

However, from time to time, external forces bring memories from my shorter days surface, sometimes even refreshing ones. This occurred most recently on Tuesday.

It started out innocently enough. I was checking my e-mail at work and I received a notification that startled me. I was being followed on Twitter by something called LesbianAssWorship.Net (or @LesAssWorship to you uncouth swine.) That's when it all came rushing back.

I think I was five years old. Maybe six. And it was a holiday when it was cold outside, so it was either Thanksgiving or Christmas. Whatever it was, we were having turkey. Anyhow, we were sitting around the holiday dinner table and I guess I looked a little sad. Life, you see, was out to get me even then and I was even worse at hiding my disdain than I am today.

Suddenly, my elderly grandmother pounded her fist on the dinner table, causing a turkey leg to fly off the serving plate and into my lap, and holler "Nothing soothes a crisis of the spirit like Lesbian Ass Worship! Nothing!"

It didn't stop there, either. She went on and on for almost an hour. According to her, straight men could worship lesbian ass, too.  It was almost like hearing Stephen Hawking expound upon theoretical physics. There was just no arguing with the fucking woman. She was crazed in ways that I had only previously seen in National Geographic. And there was no shortage of crazy in my grandmother on a normal day.

Finally, my father fired a tranquilizer dart directly into her neck and the peace of my home was restored. Even today everybody in my family referes to it as "That strange and horrible night that grandma went nuts about ass-eating."

As deeply and darkly strange as that evening was. I still can't say that she was actually wrong. As an adult, one of my sexual heroes was the grand dame of lesbian porn, Janine Lindemulder, from whom a learned a great deal about tonguing a lady from both the front and the back. And every women I've ever been with considers me something of a sexual MacArthur. and that night, over thirty-five years ago, was an enormous gateway in my becoming the man I am today.

Who knew that Twitter could be so rewarding?