Nostalgia should be my middle name. Of course, that's only because Amusing Anecdotes is too long, but still. I'm all about the nostalgia. One of my favorite things to do is sit around and tell funny stories at my own expense. The main reason for this is that I know I won't hit me. I hang around with a bunch of ninjas, you know. If I tell stories at THEIR expense, I may not live to enjoy the rousing laughter of my audience.
But then, every once in a while when I'm telling amusing anecdotes, someone messes with my mojo. They bring up one of those stories that I'd rather not remember. And that's not nostalgia. It's NO-stalgia.
Case in point: We got together with a bunch of friends the weekend before last. And one of the people who was there is... yeesh, I don't know what to call him. He's my godmother's husband, so I guess that makes him my god-dad-in-law. Let's call him G-Dil for short. Which sounds like one of those weenie rap guy names and will probably get me pounded, because G-Dil is a crazy good ninja, but I'm all about sacrificing body parts on the altar of humor. Anyway, we were all sitting around when G-Dil brought up that wilderness rescue course that I took.
Summary of this NO-stalgic anecdote: G-Dil was one of the instructors. There was a rapelling section of the course, where you're supposed to save an imaginary patient who has fallen of a cliff. I fell off the cliff.
Yeah, so he brings that up, and it absolutely is snarfworthy, but in one of those NO-stalgic kinds of ways, because it resulted in my having knee surgery on Slayer's birthday. (Instead of singing "Happy Birthday" to him, I think I said something like: "UUUuuunhhh.")
So I retaliated by bringing up the later part of the course, where you're supposed to manufacture a traction splint out of a big laundry basket full of junk. It was THE coolest exercise ever. Unfortunately, I couldn't get around very well because I had a leg brace on. And... er... I ended up planting my foot square in G-Dil's crotch.
Hey, I needed leverage. He didn't bleed out, and that's what's important.
So I think that the moral of this story is not to pull that NO-stalgic thing on me, because I will pulverize your wiggly bits in retaliation.