Sharing My Succeses

The frustrated writers at the impersonal behemoth for-profit corporation where I work publish propaganda pieces called “Sharing Our Successes.” I have found that the arrogance of the individuals running the corporation blinds them to the basic selfishness of human nature at which they excel, evidenced by their misguided belief that their low level employees are actually willing to accept gilded compliments as a legitimate substitute for cold hard cash. We want ours, too; the only difference is that we just aren’t willing to screw others to get it.

Furthermore, which here means I don’t care if you are interested in my thoughts, I am most definitely interested in my own thoughts and, in fact, much prefer them to the thoughts of others, so it follows that what I really want to share with the world are my successes.

So here they are, a lifetime of The Captain’s milestones!

· Before I could speak, I was writing little love notes to Mother of The Captain. Notes like: “What in the name of Gerber was that? Oatmeal or Sawdust? Take this back to the chef!” Or “I’ve got an aromatic package for you in my diaper. That’s what you get for feeding me lumberyard waste!” And “Please take me to visit the Nursery school teacher with the large chest and low cut blouse; being bottle fed, I yearn to snuggle up with the real thing.” And on many an occasion with puppy dog eyes: “Mummy Dearest, a Bowie knife is not on the American Academy of Pediatrics approved toy list, so why is that the only toy you ever leave in my crib? And why is that razor wire still woven around the top of the railing?”
· Kindergarten. Brought home my first report card to my reclining mother (or was she supine?) – straight Cs! I was so excited - I knew these must be outstanding grades because my smiling teacher sent me home with the words, “I can’t wait ‘til you show your mother that!” Unfortunately, mommy was feeling under the weather again and taking her medicine, which was amber colored and came in 2 liter bottles and dispensed PRN (as needed), and she just mumbled something about Captain Morgan, which I took to mean that “C” stood for Captain, a tender, touching and prophetic analogy for my academic rank.
· Lost my first tooth on my sixth birthday opening Dad’s beer bottle – no twist offs for this little guy!
· I learned to ride a bike on the very same day I was potty trained. Year seven was an eventful one for The Captain!
· Age thirteen, a lucky number for yours truly as I reportedly lost my virginity during my first blackout!
· Age 14 – 29, the “lost” years, defined by vague recollections of significant achievements, like graduating college, where I learned to drink beer upside down or through an IV, or upside down through an IV, or using an IV to expedite some substance or other into my bloodstream.
· Age thirty – sex while conscious…wooohoo!!!
· Age forty – conscious…wooohooo!!!
· Age 41 – I discover Gin – it’s all downhill from there!

Believe The Captain when he asks: “Dear Mom, who was it? The milkman, the Maytag man, the plumber, the Old Spice traveling saleman??!!”

Yours measuring success in liters,

The Captain