When  I was a kid and had sent my Mom on of  her many trips to Crazy Town VIA the crazy train she had this thing she would say.

She would look at me and growl

” don’t make me come over there “

As a rule the only things I was afraid of  as a child were Zombies and all the Monkeys escaping from the Woodlawn Park Zoo’s Primate House.

So not only did I get the evil eye she would  add the threat of

” Just wait until your Dad gets home. “

  blahblahblah

So, I mention this because when people really tick me off, I can see my tiny little Mom standing there with a cigarette clenched  between her teeth and she’s saying

” Don’t make me come over there.”

My little Sister was a cute kid.

She was so cute that when we were little  and went to the Torchlight Parade the Seafair Pirates would always spot her in a the crowd and scare the heck out of her. She’d either take off running down the street or something else really sweet and dramatic and my Grandma  Ginger would tell me to either help her or go and get her.

” Why.” I would say.

I was about six years old at the time, and feeling empathy for living creatures that did not have four legs was not in my nature.

” Because she’s your little sister.”

” How much will you give me if I do.” I’d say as my little three-year old sister was  running around in circles somewhere in the crowd screaming for her life.

My Grandma would look at the Pirates and tell me, ” those guys have nothing on you Anita- nothing.”

They still don’t Grandma Ginger.

When I was a kid we lived in this very interesting neighborhood.

Right next door to us was  ” The Hippie House.”

They were honest to goodness  barefooted, long-haired free love passed out on their front yard hippies.

The Police were always over there- they were either taking someone away or dropping them off. It was very confusing. It took me awhile to figure out that Police Cars were not Taxi Cabs.

I liked them, the girls wore those beaded necklaces and the guys would look up from where they had passed out on their lawn  the night before and say things like ”  

” Stick it to the man” when they saw me headed to school in the mornings.

In case you’re curious- yes, yes I did.

When I was about 10 I was riding my bike home from the playground when my chain broke and somehow I ended up the middle of the road with my bike on top of me.

Cars drove around me, a few honked and one guy got out and said

 “Get your  ass out of the street. What are you, retarded?”

I guess I could have cried, or asked for help.

Instead, I spit on him.

That was one of my finest moments.

Ever.

 a.m.