When I was a kid my family would go fishing. Well, they would fish. I’d sit back and pass judgment on doing such a gross and low class activity. While I sported a sailors cap. Have I mentioned that I wore a sailors cap when I was a kid? And yes, I’m sure it was worn at a jaunty angle.
So, as my Brother baited his hook and talked to our Mom about “catching dinner” I’d sit on the rocks read GQ, get some sun on my legs and chewed on the lead fishing weights.
Fishing weights are little bits of soft lead you’d normally attach to your hook to make your line sink. I’d chew on the lead balls like they were chewing gum. My Mom being a nurse saw nothing odd about this. Maybe if I broke open a thermometer and sucked down the mercury she would of said something, but consuming lead? Bon Appétit.
I think of this sometimes when people asking me the question “What the hell are you thinking!?!?”
Which surprisingly happens a lot in my world. Like on my birthday.
On my birthday last Friday we spent the day wandering around downtown Denver and exploring our fair cities museums. At the Museum of Contemporary Art Fuzzy found an art book that he fell in love with and had to have it. This over sized book dedicated to a modern master came with an over sized price as well. Really? Two-hundred bucks for the life and times and complete collection of one artist?
The art book came in it’s own designer box with handles and a little cardboard latch because the two foot by three foot book was so damn heavy it was the only way to drag it around.
Flash forward to late that night is when I heard “What the hell are you thinking!?!?” The two-hundred dollar book was laying in front of Fuzzy and myself. Fuzzy was slowly unboxing the book as if he had pulled it from a clay jar in a cave on the shore of the Dead Sea. I watched intently as he slowly manipulated the box open. This would be when I decided to “help” grabbing the cardboard fold and ripping the tabs completely in one loud tear.
Maybe it was because it was my birthday that I didn’t get chased from the property wearing only boxers whilst being hit upon the head repeatedly with a two-hundred dollar Tom Of Finland XXL art book. Or maybe he cut me some slack knowing my childhood diet of lead and carcinogens. Either way….. You wanta buy a slightly used Tom of Finland art book?