Although I would never mention it, I am in fact something of a celebrity.
The extent of my fame is not always obvious to the causal observer, mainly due to the surprising restraint shown by my admirers in open areas, but in the enhanced proximity of an enclosed space, their distinctly fanatical character is revealed. In fact, it is a rare occasion that I can slip away from a restaurant, doctor’s office, or even a speed trap without some stern, often uniformed fan demanding my autograph on the bill.
But, like many other newly-minted luminaries, news of my social elevation has been slow to travel home.
Of course I’m not referring to the members of my immediate family, who extract paychecks, extort allowances, and otherwise allow me to house and feed them with the appropriate sense of reverence and awe due a man of my standing. No, I am talking about my childhood friends.
It may surprise you to know that as a young man, I indeed had friends…
It may surprise you to know that as a young man, I indeed had friends, and that I did not have to financially compensate them in any way for the pleasure of my company. It may also surprise you to know that even today a statistically improbable number of comment-dispensing Comma readers are former high school associates of mine.
What always surprises me, however, is how these longtime aficionados of my “work” are also the quickest ones to point out any hypothetical failings I may possess as an author, fearlessly critiquing my often-thought unassailable humor technique.
They are also impressively speedy to call upon the Hot Comma Momma, by far the friendliest of my high school acquaintances, for reinforcement in any comment section battle of wits they might find themselves decidedly not winning.
You can tell these “friends” of mine primarily by the bold way they deliver their jabs and slights to my authorly self, here at the very heart of my Ominous empire. They think nothing of harassing me, providing violent ego-decompression, or even comparing my carefully cultivated Surrealistic Lyricism style of Artistic Blogging to a juvenile round of Mad-Libs.
Along with droves of other internet humor connoisseurs, you might wonder how these spectators from my past could possibly find fault in an artist of my stature.1 I often ponder this mystery myself, and the only conclusion I have come up with so far is that somehow my former educational associates still see me like this:
The Young and the Clueless
Instead of this, the towering bloggeranaut I have become:
The Veins of Our Lives
So as a service to those of you whose mental picture of me is painfully lodged somewhere in the late eighties, I have generously arranged this opportunity for you to get with the program. It is a simple, three step program, consisting of the following tasks: halt your mockery, acknowledge my manly accomplishments, and tremble.
Those readers as of yet not trembling are clearly approaching the forgetful stage of their chronological advancement. So for the benefit of these semi-senile individuals, I have provided this handy Accomplishment Reference for your trembling convenience:
- I write the Ominous Comma, hailed by critics as “the most inventive and un-credible blog ever to be named after punctuation.”2
- I have a full head of my own original hair.
- I arose from my bed this morning unaided, narrowly escaping the clutches of gravity.
- Did I mention the Comma?
For anyone who may have already forgotten the purpose of the preceding highly impressive list, here is a reminder, in large, bi-focal friendly print.
Halt
Acknowledge
Tremble
Alright my readers, it is now your turn to wax reflective. If you went to school with the author, if you went to school with people, or if you in any way participated in the educational process,3 please send your memories, pictures, anecdotes, or anything else likely to embarrass you to this fine publication via the comment boxes securely mounted at the bottom of this post.
Our usual $72 dollar entry fee has been waived in order that even the most starvingly artistic, as well as the merely unemployed, can participate in what is sure to be painful spill down memory lane.
Let get remembering, people. While you still can.
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This post has seen better days over at humor-blogs.com
- It is a well known fact that 73 inches is the height of artistic perfection. That is why so many aspiring artists invest in platform shoes. «
- Yes, I made that up. But genuine, unfabricated praise for this site does surprisingly exist and can be found here. «
- Military and obedience schools included. «
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$72?
… You charged me $350!
You are so HAT!
The prophet is never recognized in his home town.
(I suppose it’s because they know you throw your socks and underwear on the floor)
Oh, the 80s! I remember them! I think… Hm. But all the hairspray may have fogged my memory some. Is that when we used pliers to zip up our too tight Calvin Kleins and then accidentally bonked ourselves in the head when the pliers slipped and then had to go to school with big purple egg-bumps on our foreheads…?
Oh WHEW!
Your email threat had me shaking for sure. I thought you were going to dredge up some embarrassing photos of me, or tell revealing stories I thought had long been forgotten (particularly by me).
I’ll have to ponder this awhile – my current life is so full of distraction I rarely have glimpses of the glorious days of our youth.
(I must say though, while watching the tremendous Tinsel of Doom dvd, I kept thinking, “If only they could see Brent now! What would they all think?” and “How come I was the one in 3 different choirs and he’s the one on stage?”)
(Laughter, tears, bellyache…more laughter…)
“The extent of my fame is not always obvious to the causal observer, mainly due to the surprising restraint shown by my admirers in open areas, but in the enhanced proximity of an enclosed space, their distinctly fanatical character is revealed. In fact, it is a rare occasion that I can slip away from a restaurant, doctor’s office, or even a speed trap without some stern, often uniformed fan demanding my autograph on the bill.”
Oh that is so good it gave me goosebumps! Dry humor at its finest. I love laughing this hard!
Good God you’ve become better looking with age. Is that a furry hamster dangling down on your forehead?
LOVE the second photo MINUS the buff bod (ewwww) and shadow beard! I can’t stop laughing actually.
I was just hailed as the pretty hot liberal chic by an incredibly intelligent Anonymous commenter so there is no way I’m sending in an 80’s pic of myself!
I just stumbled on this blog yesterday, yet after viewing that first photo, you are a celebrity in my eyes. You should seriously consider printing up 8 x 10 glossies for ebay (though taking me up on that idea makes me your manager and entitles me to 10 percent.) Keep up the good work;)
You didn’t have to pay your friends?!!?
Man, you rock! Most of my old high school chums are still taking a monthly draw on my Mastercard.
I’m glad you didn’t get that skinny little tie around your present thick neck.
I tried to do something similar to that with my life once. Everbody just Acknowledged that I talked with a Halting Tremble; and then they ignored me until I paid them $72.
You sure this thing is securely mounted? Seems a little shaky. Oh wait, that’s just me, trembling in awe of your blognificence.
“Our usual $72 dollar entry fee has been waived in order that even the most starvingly artistic, as well as the merely unemployed, can participate in what is sure to be painful spill down memory lane.”
Dr. T would be so ashamed of you.
Maybe you should bring back the snazzy thin tie. They are often under rated as respect getting attire.
“It may surprise you to know that as a young man, I indeed had friends, and that I did not have to financially compensate them in any way for the pleasure of my company.”
You only had two friends! Until Camille came along and saved you.
“It may also surprise you to know that even today a statistically improbable number of comment-dispensing Comma readers are former high school associates of mine.”
Who?
I do like that first picture. I like the collar up!
80’s?! EIGHTIES??? WTF? I was pregnant in the eighties. Holy shnikes. If I’d had kids younger and they had hair like that, oh dear.
No. NO. You were stunning. And surrealistically lyrical. May I steal Surrealistic Lyricism with appropriate attribution?
Also, I fell down the main hallway stairs at my highschool in 1970, wearing red over-the-knee socks and a red mini. Big stairs. Flashed the entire school before class. I was still able to graduate without being known as Britney with underwear.
You show a little skin and you get what 57 comments? That’s it I am giving in to pressure. I will have a nude picture of my ankle on my blog by sundown, or sunup or when I feel like it.
to be fair, a full head of hair is a pretty big achievement from where I am standing.
I have posted nudity and it’s not my ankle. Let’s see how many comments I get.
I stand corrected, it is now 50 comments, oh no, now 51 comments.
Can I get an autographed high school pic? hehe loved the hair.
Holy crap, did you really look like that? I have to admit I never looked that bad.
Yeah, I’d like an autographed highschool picture too. Please?
While you have the pen out…may I have one as well?
Did you want him to sign his current name or his alias before the “vacation” he took up the creek?
hahah what a nice photos here :)))) makes me funnyy
And my supporting this idea makes me your Assistant Manager – a position I have actually held at a number of fine drive-thru (yes, according to Jack that’s the correct spelling) dining establishments.
So much management, so little labor: this must be a union gig.
Of course that would make me late to my own strike. I wonder if self-picketing is covered on my HMO?
You’ll need a posse. I’ll do it, but you’ll need to pay for the bullets and any legal bills.
We have a three-tiered fee schedule. The individual levels are referred to as Siphon, Sprinkle, and Soak.
You’ve been selected for the third setting.
I thought it was just because I was so carefully disguised.
My goose egg actually came from a ball-peen hammer, but that is another (amazingly true) story.
My memories of the 80’s are held together by untold layers of styling mousse.
Sorry, all I have are embarrassing stories and revealing photos.
Unfortunately, they are all of me.
As for being the one on stage, let’s just say that I was careful not to let my entertainment career peak too soon. Like in my teens or even my twenties.
Talent and quality can’t be rushed, and neither can I.
I’m the full scarf and both mittens too. In fact, I’m practically my own ensemble.
Maybe that’s why Camille keeps me in the closet.
Yes, in my present expanded condition, I can only use it as a headband.
I never said that I didn’t promise to pay them, just that I never delivered any legal tender. I think a few of them are on your line of credit now.
I am just glad that in these uncertain times, you have a pillar of stability like myself on which you can append.
Yes, I’ll definitely sleep better knowing that I was here for you when you probably needed actual assistance.
I’m sorry, did you say something?
What if it was a hot liberal 80’s pic?
Debbie,
“Is that a furry hamster dangling down on your forehead?”
Actually, that’s one the carnivorous squirrels with a perm in his tail. It was the 80s for sure. (I mean, like, for sure)
Come on Deb, we know you have the curly head shot with the hot pink head band.
It’s just convenient.
That’s not completely honest, in certain situations he can be rushed. One example is a screaming child or wife.
Don’t forget the leg warmers!
Now, Brent you are not being completely honest again. I know one friend that you had to pay.
You seem to have a much looser definition of the word “saved” than I do. But to be fair, long term daily exposure to me does require certain super powers, and a cool costume doesn’t hurt either.
Considering the era in question, I suggest spandex.
As for the “others,” being a personal associate of mine is sometimes embarrassing and always dangerous. It is not my place to reveal them. Besides, how can I “out” them when Camille still keeps me in the closet?
On the positive side, I have been able to locate many of my old skinny ties in here.
ME!
I am not ashamed to admit it.
(although I might have been back then… I was a snob)
Brent actually saved my bacon in chemistry. I think that’s why I linger here – out of guilt for dragging him so close to an A- in that class.
What he doesn’t know hopefully won’t hurt me.
I know that I’m a role model for many, but I’m not sure that my abilities include Fashion Influence, or even Fashion Sense.
Fashion Influenza is a definite possibly, though.
I was not even a luke warm liberal in the 80’s!
I’m proud to reveal I never had a perm but I’m sure I owned a hot pink headband, leg warmers, and matching WRISTBAND!
If the super HOT COMMA MOMMA Camille has an 80’s pic to share then I’ll dig up one. No no nevermind, Camille is a natural beauty so she was probably just as beautiful back then as she is now.
Chris that is so hilarious!
I’m sure the permed squirrel that lived in Brent’s hair during the 80’s is related to Lynn’s squirrel! Not sure how they all turned carnivorous along the way but hey it’s tough being a squirrel! (We could always ask Ruckus I guess)
Who knew that pic was so rich in Foreshadowing!
I’ll look into that. Also, I was wondering if spa days are considered a business expense? All this posse monitoring is really wearing me down.
Wasn’t that 80’s fashion as well?
(for the seriously partying crowd – which I know YOU were the ringleader of)
I was thinking of Bob and Gil, so you make it three friends and I guess I make four, plus Camille. Wow, that’s a lot of friends.
You may borrow the S.L. as long as you fill it up before you return it.
After that spill I’m surprised you didn’t enter witness protection. I’m glad you survived without any major psychiatric trauma.
Of course, if you do require any therapy our own Dr. Harold Tobaggons will be happy to take your money. And your temperature. And self respect.
Don’t worry, I remember.
For the other six billion people who were not present, here is photographic evidence of the Hot Comma Momma negotiating her payment.
Note the hypnotic eyes and shrewd smile that escapes as she reels in her prey. Smooth. She’s smooth.
I especially like the painting. And not a lot of guys can pull off a pink tie. But you..ah..
I’d say she rates an exclamation point at least.
What a fantastic 80’s photo or was that taken last week? Heh!
Just as I suspected, Camille is a natural beauty. (Nice to see she did not surrender to the 80’s trend of bright blue eye-shadow, red lips, & ultra-teased chemically frisked hair.)
Brent looks pretty darn cute as well, even with the pink bow tie and pink belt!
OMG she is way too good for you, you better go kiss her toes right now. :)
Follicle Rehabilitation is one of the lessor known uses for Organ Needles which although now banned in the U.S. can’t still be routed through Northern South America.
Thanks for dropping by Don.
As you can see, it’s up. Now it’s your turn.
No way Brent! Your server would crash and never forgive you.
Perhaps you should invest in a posse monitor. I think they sell them at Target. That way you could keep an ear on them from the comfort of a hot tub or other Important Business Location.
Her rates are quite high. She has all my punctuation and even some I had to steal from strangers on the street.
(They weren’t using it.)
“(Nice to see she did not surrender to the 80’s trend of bright blue eye-shadow, red lips, & ultra-teased chemically frisked hair.)”
No that was me. The original glam-geek.
You’re probably right. Fortunately I got her some toe wash for Christmas.
Oh, we had the most serious parties this side of MENSA.
Well, you got one from me. You are one naughty woman.
I’m sure that can be arranged. Possibly along with an Angry Seafood interview? Hmmmmmm?
Well I checked everywhere and it seems that the posse monitor was a hot Christmas item this year. Thousands of disappointed children across America awoke to find this useless little tool (after all, what kind of child actually has a posse?) beneath the tree, when their parents couldn’t find a Wii ANYWHERE. I suppose I could always hire a posse monitor, but that just seems counter productive.
Bob and Gil were only count as one. Together they made a whole friend.
Brent did not look bad, he looked unique!
Now Diesel, this is the internet, we can’t have fictional facts or unsubstantiated claims here. You must scientifically document your assertion of 80’s superiority.
I’m betting you can’t find a picture that doesn’t feature muscle shirts, eyeliner, or parachute pants.
(she snickers)
I was thinking the three were like the three stooges. Either that or the 3 amigos.