Holy Crap Another Award!!! But this one is for Versatility….

Posted: June 14, 2012 in About my Father
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

An Award for Versatility in Blogging…. Part One 

If it weren’t for Lisa’s Rant, I would never win any awards, but I am cool with that because she is a cool chick.  Cool chicks can give me awards anytime.  Because she continues to pull me along on her voyage to the top of the blog world, I will continue to write, and I am glad to be considered worth reading by Lisa.  So, what are the requirements for this award you ask?  Well I am going to tell you seven things that you may not know about me and then recommend a bunch of blogs worth reading, but all of this will happen in two parts.  These are three of the seven things will change your life, or in the least, they will give you a new found appreciation for me, or not.

1.  I got caught stealing a Caramello from a local grocery store in Idaho Falls, Id.  This is kind of boring, right?  Well let me add some context.  I was in 4th grade and the next day of class was  going to be reading all day and lounging around.  We were allowed to bring snacks, and if there is one thing I love, it is snacks.  My mother dropped a friend and myself off at the entrance to the store and then she was going to circle until we were done buying a soda and a pack of chips.  Well let me tell you something, a soda and a pack of chips does not suffice for a day of reading and lounging.  I wanted a damn Caramello, and I was willing to pillage a store for it.  Plus, it was the 80s, how good could security be at a grocery store in Idaho Falls in the 1980s?  PLUS CARAMELLO’s ARE WORTH IT, so stop judging me! 

So, I put the candy bar in my pocket and exited the store.  At this moment a mustached worker of the joint ambushed me with questions about having something that doesn’t belong to me.  I did what any self respecting boy would do, and just broke down crying.  Crying like a bitch.  As planned, my mom pulled back up and rolled her window down intrigued by this man accosting her innocent child.  While the mustached man explained, I continued crying.  My friend’s reaction was one of pure stoicism.  But, he was a career criminal after that instance, so he doesn’t count against me as a man.  I thought for sure that my mother would rescue me and take me home; sure, I would be punished, but get me home where I can run off into the safety of my room.  Instead, the following words fell out her emotionless mouth.  “Take him to jail with the rest of the thieves.”  I did what any crying boy would do.  I looked at my mother, this Judas, and thought, “this woman is serious as shit right now.”  She was so serious that the mustached man had to talk her into taking me home so that he didn’t have to do additional work. 

People, this is the last time I stole anything—mostly out of fear that my mother would seek further retribution on my ginger ass.  I am still not allowed in the Buttrey’s located just off 1st Street and South Fanning Blvd in Idaho Falls, Id.  Right now, somewhere in the Idaho, a mustached man walks the aisles of a grocery store keeping the place a bit safer.  Kudos to you mustached security guard.

2.  I have been threatened by a man with a hot iron before.  Sounds kind of boring right?  Well let me add some context.  Long story short, but I had just been caught stealing a candy bar from a local grocery store in Idaho Falls, Id.  After my Judas of a mother (who I love more for it) was finally talked into taking me home vice a stay in the local juvenile hall, I was presented in front of the scariest judge and jury known to all of mankind, Lane Andrew Phillips, my father and my worst nightmare.  You see, I grew up in a family where, “Wait till your father get’s home” were the six words that could cause an immediate ulcer.   When I hurt my sisters, I would beg to the point of payment that my sisters not tell my dad.  More over, it was rumored around our house that our father had skinned children to death just by cussing at them until their skin just fell off. 

There is no real way to describe my dad except that he is comparable to the leader of hell.  Standing there before me, he may as well have been Satan; the only difference is that Satan is timid and weak in comparison to Lane Andrew Phillips.  My mom kind of just forced me in front of him and then she quickly vanished into the catacombs of the house.  I looked back once and saw her peering over a dark rock amidst my siblings, who had claimed front row seats for my slaying.  I just sniffled and murmured.  I am certain I blew a snot bubble out of my nose and drew asthmatic breaths while viscous liquids hung from my face in long strings.  My father was facing away from me ironing his uniform, but since he feeds off of little children’s fear, and I was scared shitless, he sensed I was broken and turned slowly in the most diabolically foreboding 180 degree turn.  The iron blew smoke out of the holes on the bottom and hissed at me.  Flames shot out of my dad’s fingers.  I had resigned to the fact that after this moment, my face was going to have the tell-tale iron burn starting from just above my right eye down to my lower left jaw area.   I closed my eyes, I went internal.  I watched my dad’s mouth move and heard nothing.  The iron was flailing to and fro.  All I heard was my own heart beating, thump, thump….thump, thump.  I woke up seven days later, no burn, no nothing.   None of my family members have told me what happened during the seven days following The Hot Iron Incident of 1986. 

3.  I have gone to a restaurant with my parents and been forced to eat bread and water while sitting in the corner.  Sounds kind of boring right?  Well let me add some context.  Long story short, but I had just recovered from a near-death situation where I was threatened with a hot iron.   I was in the initial stages of serving a life sentence of restriction at home.  I was permanently grounded.  Here’s how it worked.  I was actually allowed outside, but only to the end of the driveway.  This is my dad at his best.  I could go to the end of the driveway, but no one could play with me in the driveway and I couldn’t play with those out of the driveway.  In essence, it was my dad’s way of making me wish for freedom even more.  It was also my little version of a Scarlet Letter.  Kids would whisper about the poor kid, who they heard pissed himself when threatened with an iron, that couldn’t leave his driveway.  To this day when I visit, I am stuck in my parent’s driveway. 

Anyway, my parents didn’t trust me at home anymore and they had a dinner date with another couple.  I got to go with them.  We loved eating out when we were kids because it happened very infrequently.  I thought I won the lottery, and shit, if stealing got me restaurant dinners, I was ready to go for broke.  We got to the eating establishment and my parents met their friends.  They were laughing and everyone was very joyful.  The foursome and I made our way to the hostess for seating.  When we got there here is the exchange that happened.   

Hostess:  Good evening!  Is it just five of you tonight? 

Lane Andrew Phillips:  No, it is four of us.  The fifth one here is my son, of whom I am ashamed.  He is a thief and cannot be trusted.  He cannot be at home with his sisters alone, because he is half a man.  He will sit at his own table where I can watch him.  He will eat bread and water.  Please do not leave anything you want to see remain in your restaurant on the table where you seat him, because he will likely steal it.   

Hostess:  I have just the table. 

This really happened.  I do not lie, cheat, or steal anymore.  Trust me, I work for the government, I wouldn’t lie to you.   

Stay tuned to tomorrow’s post where I will finish this up and recommend six or seven blogs to read that are far better than the one you just read.  If you read this and regret it so far, you have Lisa’s Rant to thank…  

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Comments
  1. I don’t know who’s more entertaining, your wife or your dad! Congrats on the award!!

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