tie this, motherfucker
TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE: dwelling on the past, whether you like it or not
THE BUNNY GOES INTO THE HOLE
If there was one thing, other than sex, that was most often described through the use of clever symbols, it was the act of tying your shoe. I was taught the bunny method, in which I was in charge of building the bunny's home and then showing the bunny how to get inside, and then in a completely unrelated scene, I'd yank both ends of the shoelace as hard as possible. See also: snake through the ring, lion through the hoola-hoop, airplane into the hangar, Hitler into the seventh circle of hell, etc.
But remember how difficult it was at first? Remember being frustrated and giving up and buying Velcro shoes? Oh, man. Velcro was the greatest. Even after I learned how to tie my shoes, I still wanted Velcro. It was so much cooler than having loops of shoelaces hanging all over and flopping around like loose intestines from a gushing bullet wound. It wasn't pretty. Velcro was organized and sophisticated, and even better, it was musical. For hours upon hours you could lock and unlock the two strips, making a wonderfully beautiful tearing noise, comparable only to the voice of angels.
But remember when Velcro shoes began to fade away? When was that? Some time during elementary school, for sure. You know what it was? It wasn't our fault that we stopped wearing Velcro. It was the corporations' fault. Didn't you notice that as your feet grew, the Velcro availability diminished? That's because they didn't make the larger shoes with the Velcro straps. Why not? Budget cuts? Corporations like Nike and Reebok and Sketchers... they were forcefully removing us from our childhood days and tossing us blindly into the mature world of shoelaces and bunnies. What gives? I miss my Velcro straps. I don't want to lead any fucking bunny into any fucking hole.
So I could end this trip down memory lane with a solid Stick-it-to-the-man, but there's no way to do that. Velcro came and went, like Clay Aiken, and it'll never return. But remember the time when it was here, and cherish those memories.
THE BUNNY GOES INTO THE HOLE
If there was one thing, other than sex, that was most often described through the use of clever symbols, it was the act of tying your shoe. I was taught the bunny method, in which I was in charge of building the bunny's home and then showing the bunny how to get inside, and then in a completely unrelated scene, I'd yank both ends of the shoelace as hard as possible. See also: snake through the ring, lion through the hoola-hoop, airplane into the hangar, Hitler into the seventh circle of hell, etc.
But remember how difficult it was at first? Remember being frustrated and giving up and buying Velcro shoes? Oh, man. Velcro was the greatest. Even after I learned how to tie my shoes, I still wanted Velcro. It was so much cooler than having loops of shoelaces hanging all over and flopping around like loose intestines from a gushing bullet wound. It wasn't pretty. Velcro was organized and sophisticated, and even better, it was musical. For hours upon hours you could lock and unlock the two strips, making a wonderfully beautiful tearing noise, comparable only to the voice of angels.
But remember when Velcro shoes began to fade away? When was that? Some time during elementary school, for sure. You know what it was? It wasn't our fault that we stopped wearing Velcro. It was the corporations' fault. Didn't you notice that as your feet grew, the Velcro availability diminished? That's because they didn't make the larger shoes with the Velcro straps. Why not? Budget cuts? Corporations like Nike and Reebok and Sketchers... they were forcefully removing us from our childhood days and tossing us blindly into the mature world of shoelaces and bunnies. What gives? I miss my Velcro straps. I don't want to lead any fucking bunny into any fucking hole.
So I could end this trip down memory lane with a solid Stick-it-to-the-man, but there's no way to do that. Velcro came and went, like Clay Aiken, and it'll never return. But remember the time when it was here, and cherish those memories.