Let's Take a Trip In The Wayback Machine

A Monday Re-Run for you all. I spent much of the morning going through the archives of Bagwine Ruminations and did not realize that the time had gone by so quickly. Many of you are relatively new to this site, and missed out on some funny posts from back in the day when I had two daily readers…Myself and the Gouda Girl. So since time has kinda slipped by today, and the fact I have a bit of Monday Malaise….I offer you the following, enjoy…

Goose Eggs and a Flock of Seagulls…

Many of you are aware that this week marks the 25th anniversary of MTV. Yes, MTV is 25 years old and I am 25 years older. Back then, the channel actually played music videos and I faithfully watched. I’d really get jiggy when “A Flock of Seagulls” came on. But when I wasn’t watching, my life was filled with youthful exuberance and lust for living.In August of 1981, I was sixteen, getting ready to enter my junior year of High School, and begin a job flipping burgers at Hardee’s.

For me however; my entry into school would be delayed. In late July, my friends and I thought it would be funny to assault the Marching Band director. The weapon of choice…Goose Eggs. Two goose eggs the size of softballs that were, for whatever reason, chilling in the basement refrigerator of my house, nestled safely next to my dad’s case of Braumeister.

One guy in the band would be on hand to snap a pictorial history of the event, and myself and my friend Tone, would fly down the hill overlooking the football field and hurl the oblique spheroids at the somewhat corpulent director as band camp wound up for the day. After our sortie was completed, we would run into the nearby woods and then safely home. Laughs, excitement, and a job well done.

But alas, a couple of things went awry. We were perched upon the hilltop, dressed in shorts, T-shirts, and ski masks. Our mark was in prime position. I saw my opening and raced down the hill. Although nervous, excited, and anxious, I let fly the egg of the Branta Canadensis, and saw the accuracy of my throw. A direct hit, square upon the arse of the victim.

To my surprise the abundantly sized music man could move faster than a 32nd note. I had to turn on the jets and between the ski mask and the oppressive heat, I nearly tossed every fluid in my body, but to my good fortune, I made it into the woods and then home.So, happy ending, right? Not so much.

As it turns out my “friend” Tone decided to stay safely on the hilltop, egg in hand, and watch, rather than participate in the incursion. My “friend” Rob caught the excitement on film, but also decided to start telling his band mates who the star of the picture was. Two hours later, the phone rang, my heart stopped, and seconds later I heard Mom screaming, “Matthew, get in here now!!”

A couple of days later, sitting between my mom and dad, I heard the verdict. The principal told me that I would be on suspension the first two weeks of school, and unfortunately, it would be in school suspension. I took it like a man, and then in an awkward moment, asked Dr. Lynch if he would sign my work permit for my job at Hardee’s. As he took it and signed it, he said, “They need to keep you away from the eggs.”

And Now…Our Moment of Hinn-ee:

“How do you make egg fu yung? You take a young egg and fu it.”
--Henny Youngman