When I was a kid, I did some really weird shit…
I liked to tie yarn around dolls’ necks, lynch them over our staircase, and leave them hanging for my mom to discover.
Sometimes I would turn off all the lights, scream “Mortal Kombat,” and whack my family with an inflatable bat.
One time I boobie-trapped our house because I was scared those talking M&M guys were coming to get me.
Every Friday, I would put on my mom’s high-heeled shoes and “perform” classic Madonna songs. Surprisingly, my mother never picked up that I was gay.
Looking back, one of my strangest childhood rituals was a game I created. The game was simple: every time I saw my dad, I had to make the goofiest face imaginable. Sometimes I’d squint my eyes. Other times, I’d pull on my ears. One time, I distinctly remember putting a Hot Wheels car in my mouth and spitting it at him.
I even provided sound effects, which often made me sound like a dying cat. My faces got so f***ed up that my eyes were eventually popping out like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Total Recall. At first, my dad was mortified, but eventually, he joined in on the fun. It was like playing peek-a-boo, but with all parties involved looking constipated.
My dad’s faces were NEVER as good as mine. Well, almost never. When I was four years old, he totally owned me. I remember it vividly; I popped out from behind my bed, delivering the craziest face I could muster. Without missing a beat, my father retaliated by falling to the floor, pouting up his lips, and rolling his eyes in the back of his head. Whoa… he had stepped up his game.
I fought back by pulling on my hair and making goat noises. But as my dad continued to flop around like a wounded pigeon, I admitted I was no match for his brilliance. I conceded and started laughing at him. He didn’t stop; opting to continue motorboating the air. Damn. How the hell was he making such an awesome face?
Well, it turns out he was having a seizure.