A while ago, I tried to give my loyal readers a better idea of who I really was by giving them snapshots of my past by releasing my most embarrassing baby photos. To prevent rumors about what I was doing in the pictures I gave a quick description of the photos and called them Pictures Of A Genius. I am happy to say that none of these images wound up anywhere that I would regret, and because of that I am going to bless you with Part Two of the series. I found these pictures in an old album buried deep in a closet at my mom’s house. At first I selected over 40 pictures to make fun of, but after much debate—and realizing that I couldn’t post pictures of me naked on the internet—I came down to the winners. So here they are, the pictures everyone has been waiting for: Pictures Of A Genius Part II.
These first pictures are a timeline of every Halloween I had when I was little, with a few other pictures of me just dressing up and being ridiculous. My friends and I would dress up frequently at my house, seeing as how I didn’t have a Game Cube so it was the only way to entertain ourselves. I even had a “toy box” stuffed with different articles of clothing waiting for us to use (my parents had the guts to actually say to me, “We don’t need an Xbox, we have a toy box!!” Someone bring me a gun). We would dress up as crime fighting ninjas, planet saving warriors, and secret agent spies. But no matter what we disguised ourselves as, our mission was clear: Spy on the parents.
Whenever I had friends over, the kids’ parents would all sit around the eloquent dining room table and have an intricate meal of roast beef, corn, string beans and mashed potatoes. They would then shove us children into a tiny crammed room and make us eat microwaved macaroni on paper plates. So when we were finished, we would get revenge on them by dressing up and spying on them. My brother and I had the latest technology of spy equipment which were:
1. Sun glasses. We figured that if it became difficult for us to see in the house, they too wouldn’t notice us sneaking around. We also assumed that they couldn’t hear us blindly bumping into the furniture and knocking over toys.
2. A blanket. Everyone knows that once you drape a blanket over you, you instantly become invisible.
3. A rock with a rope tied around it. This was the riskiest tool of all, because it was our major weapon and generally made the most noise. We would hurl the rock into the room in an attempt to hit a parent, and then quickly reel it back in. Unfortunately, the rock would usually slip from the crappy knot we tied around it and would fly and smash a painting. No worries, we would just dive under the blanket.
Are you wondering what I actually looked like sneaking around the house dressed up as different creatures? Then I present to you the first chapter of the Pictures Of A Genius series: Costume City
This first picture is me when I was probably five years old on Halloween. In the first Pictures Of A Genius I provided a black and white photo of this costume that made it look like I got tarred and feathered. But here is the actual shot of me growling ferociously into the camera, showing that I am not just a five-year-old brat, but actually a tank of power ready to burst and unleash a stream of adrenaline that will help me effortlessly tear my helpless prey to pieces before I viciously devour them with my razor sharp teeth. And if that doesn’t work I’ll hit them with my pumpkin basket. My father, shown to my left, dressed up as a glasses-wearing nerd who got beat up in school.
It was at this point in my life that my mother became frugal. I was hoping that that certain gene had skipped a generation in the family (my mom’s dad, my grandfather, once taped a 79 cent fly swatter back together), but it was not so. On this costume, I told my mom that I wanted to be a bat for Halloween. I expected her to go to the nearest costume store, buy a costume for her loving son, and present it to me to try on. Instead, my mom thought it would be cheaper to buy acres of bulky black cloth, wrap it around me, and call it a day. And to make it complete she put raccoon-like circles around my eyes. I specifically remember walking around the neighborhood ringing doorbells and clarifying to people what I was. “What are you, Batman?” they would dumbly ask. “Are you a robber? Are you road kill?” I would then have to explain to them how my mom didn’t want to spend any money and instead preferred to bundle me up in wool fabric. And for those of you who have never been covered in thick fabric before, allow me to explain. It sucks. The heat led to me sweating profusely, which would leak my black face paint into my eyes, which would blind me, which would cause me to aimlessly stumble into the street, and since I was strategically dressed in all black, I was a big predator for those assholes who drive around on Halloween night. Luckily I used my bat powers to dodge the cars; I just wish I could say the same for the rocks kids threw at me.
Oh yes, the infamous wooden sword and wooden shield. This is mainly an inside joke between me and my really close friends, and I don’t have the time or effort to explain it to all of you. In short, I owned that sword for two and a half days, after which my mom took it away from me in fear that I would hurt myself. So I was then just left with a wooden shield, which didn’t help me much in sword fights and certainly didn’t help me gain any respect. “Haha, Boony’s just got a wooden shield!” The kids would taunt as they pushed me to the ground and kicked my face. And my mom wonders why I’m so troubled . . .
In this picture I’m playing a Confederate Fireman who is forced to fight fires with a wooden sword and wooden shield. It didn’t help that wood is extremely flammable; as was my sports pajamas. Thankfully, I was clad in my special vest that gave me magical powers, enabling me to put out the fire with just a swish of my mighty sword. My Confederate Fireman character didn’t last long because my mom confiscated my sword, and no one wants to put out a fire with a swish of their mighty shield.
Now, you’re probably thinking “But Boony, if your mom took away all your swords, why did she let you keep a gun? Surely something that rockets bullets at hundreds of miles an hour is more dangerous than a wooden stick.” And you are very right. My mom seized all of my weapons (cap guns, super soakers, scissors, etc.) when I was young, and the only reason I got possession of this gun was because I was at my neighbor’s house. Here I am attired in another one of my horrible styles (you’ll notice that nothing I wear in these pictures actually matches. I think this is because my parents hated me. Either that or they were too frugal to buy matching outfits) holding a rifle. At this age, my friend and I were OBSESSED with Davy Crockett. We watched all the movies, read all the books, and we would always dress up as him. You can see that at the bottom right of the screen is a raccoon hat. We wore this on our head because that’s what Davy Crockett did. Hell, if Davy Crockett had lived off of earthworms and Gatorade me and my neighbor would have been rooting around in the dirt finding bugs. Well, he would have been digging; I wouldn’t want to get my outfit dirty.
Save a horse ride a cowboy. This is an old costume I loved and would wear all the time. I was a rugged cowboy, living by my own rules and not taking crap from anyone. I would capture outlaws and then ride off into the sunset on my trusty steed “Dr. Prez.” Sadly, like most children, my parents refused to buy me a pony, so my “trusty steed” was actually my living room couch.
Arr, here he comes; the cut-throat pirate. I’m not sure where I got this outfit or why I’m allowed to be playing with a sword (at the age of 15 I’m not allowed to own a water gun, yet at the age of 5 I was able to freely wield a fatal sword), all I know is that I look amazing. As any historical expert will tell you, I stayed very accurate to the roll by wearing strict pirate apparel. A vintage skull-and-crossbones hat, a very lethal weapon, cargo shorts with an elastic waist, and an Amsterdam shirt.
This is a prime example of what my friends and I would dress up in when we spied on our parents. I’m on the left wearing soccer shorts, blue socks, and Velcro shoes. Now, typically a kid who wears something like this would get brutally beat up by everyone who say him. But this horrible outfit immediately turned into a super hero uniform with two essential articles: a silk cape and finger-less gloves. With the power of these two things, I became “Destructo-Boy!!!” On this certain occasion Destructo-Boy is with his sidekick, Alex. My friend never had much of an imagination, so he just dressed up as a cowboy every time and wouldn’t let me give him a cool name. He can be seen to the right, cluelessly gnawing on a bandana.
And finally, a picture of me dressed to kill in what I think is the most kick ass suit known to man. Here I am in my old kitchen dressed up as a knight/cowboy/police officer/Davy Crockett, or as I called him, “Super Suave Warrior Prince.” Here I can be seen conquering a rabid and very deadly stuffed animal. With the help of Super Suave Warrior Prince, my kitchen was free to be cooked in.
In the last series of Pictures Of A Genius I showed you a photo of me and this kid Yoav holding hands. When I opened up this new album I found even more photographs of us doing gay acts. When I asked my mom why we were always so close she said that Yoav’s mother insisted that we hold hands, hoping that it would harden our friendship. Well I don’t know about you, but I’d say that something was growing hard between Yoav and I [Ba Zing]. Yoav is from Israel, and we would take trips to see him every year; which is sad because nowadays I don’t even visit my next-door neighbor. I haven’t seen him in a while, but I’m pretty sure if I wanted to find him I would look in the YMCA.
Even though I say that I was a deprived child whose parents were too frugal to buy a new fly swatter and I complain that I wasn’t allowed to play with, hold, or look at weapons, I am proud to say that I did have one amazing toy growing up. I called it The Pimpmobile. It was an electric car that I could drive around my neighborhood. All you had to do was push the pedal down and drive around with the wheel. I would cruise around for hours on my 8-inch rims; picking up 2nd graders and running through stop signs. Of course I would need to be back home in 15 minutes or else the battery would shut down and I would need to walk home.
Don’t laugh. Okay you can laugh. But no matter how much you laugh I don’t care because this picture makes me feel secure. It shows that my parents cared about my health. They were such nice parents that they sacrificed my chances at popularity for safety. Either that or they were at the store and thought it would be hilarious to buy their son pads that glow in the dark. I would also like to add that my parents strapped me with kneepads, elbow pads, long pants, and a jean jacket, but still didn’t give me a helmet. This shows that they just wanted to embarrass me, but couldn’t care less if I smashed my head on the driveway and bled to death.
My grandmother claims that this was my first snowfall, but that doesn’t make sense seeing as how I look 5 years old in this picture. My guess is that this was the first snowfall I experienced because my parents locked me in the basement for the first years of my life. In this picture I appear laughing but do not be fooled; I am screaming for help. My mother punted me to the ground and left me there to perish. If it wasn’t for my ninja-like strength I might have died out there.
If you got to know me without looking at this picture, you would never have guessed that I was a Boy Scout. It might be my constant swearing, disobedience towards society, or my “MAN WHORE” shirt that deterred you, but the truth was that I actually was a very loyal scout. But don’t judge me too quickly; even though I was a Boy Scout doesn’t mean I was a good Boy Scout. My troop—Troop 305 REPRESENT!!!—lost a record 27 challenges throughout our Boy Scout journey, and I only received four pins in five years. In time I graduated into an Eagle Scout (they called it an Eagle Scout because “Man Scout” sounds creepy) where I quit because I had better things to maintain like, for example, a social life. In this picture you get a quick glimpse into my Boy Scout career as you see me helping a little old lady stack Mother Goose Nursery Rhyme blocks inside the comfort of my home.
I only posted this picture up because this girl named Becca Penney reads my site and she loved the last picture of me playing my dad’s trumpet. I would like you all to take a minute to note how similar my dad looks to Hitler, hence him being a Grade Nazi. I would think that this is the cutest pictures of me as a child, but they only get better from here. It’s like my loving father always said: Vollenden Sie Ihre Hausaufgabe oder ich werde Sie töten!!!
Cute little face? Check. Loveable Bill Cosby sweater? Check. Massive throbbing ears? Check. It looks like I just passed the test for the best looking child in the world.
In conclusion, this is a picture of me and youth soccer team. As opposed to now when the best of each town plays the best of another town, youth soccer was designed so that all the children in Arlington could join together and all agree that soccer was a pussy sport. Each team was assigned a different color and the name of our team had to be based off of our color (Green Goblins, Yellow Yo-Yos, Purple Pedophiles, etc.). My team was called the Orange Octopuses, even though the plural of Octopus is really Octopi. We were so fucking stupid.
From left to right (starting with the top row) the kids are Aaron Schmidt, Ali MaKeig, Jeremy Bigham, Conor O’Neil, Lillian Cole. Bottom row—Nate Boit, ME, Mike Barbosa, and Alex Geller. On the far far right is my brother, Jackson. He wasn’t actually on the team but we gave him a jersey so that he wouldn’t cry. In this photo he looks like such an angel that no one would know that he is actually a psychotic retarded Goth whose life is a black abyss.
Hopefully more pictures will come, but as for now, I have to go save the world from deadly stuffed animals. Because I am no longer mild-mannered Boony, I am Super Suave Warrior Prince.