Who do I still think I am??

This one's about trece.

30DBC PROMPT: "The Sunday Review" "Recall a memory or experience associated with the number thirteen. What significance does the number '13' have for you?"

What's up friends? The "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  is back in full effect! I'm probably a little more excited about this than I'd normally be...maybe because it's WDC's 13th birthday, or because I've got internet access at home for the time being *knock on wood*. There's all sorts of fun and games and whatnot to be had, but the real reason I'm here right now is because I enjoy this. For however long it takes me in a given day to bust out an entry, I'm experiencing something that brings me the most happiness in this life.

I'm also excited that I don't have to worry about doing a Sunday Review today, but don't tell anyone.

I'm trying hard to figure out what the number 13 means. What memories (and I have tons of them...when I can actually remember them) do I have? Experiences? Significance?

That's a toughie.

I can tell you this...I'm a little superstitious, but not crazy paranoid about it. A little OCD, perhaps, but not to the point where I'm carrying a rosary and humming when I touch beads every time I see a black cat or break a mirror (ha...I say that like breaking mirrors happens all the time for me or something).

But I do try to stay away from the number 13 if possible, because it's associated with bad luck supposedly. I've never worn it on a uniform or lived at an address with that designation. I guess I'm skeptical of it more than anything else...I don't want to chance karma or entice it by embracing 13. It's an awkward number. It's not evenly divisible by anything other than one or itself, it's the start of the teen years (and if anyone tells me their 13th year in life went smoothly I'm flat-out callin' you a liar), and nothing outside of a baker's dozen is merchandised for sale in packs of 13. And let's not even discuss the movie Friday The 13th, because that franchise should've reeled it in about eight or more runs into its history.

Personally, other than the stigmas attached to the number 13, I don't have a problem with it. One of my closest friends growing up, who I haven't talked to in years but love dearly, used to fear the 13th every month. We would hang out all the time, but when the 13th came around, he was nowhere to be found. Later we learned he suffered from Triskaidekaphobia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triskaidekaphobia), which basically is a fear of the number 13. Y'all can laugh and shrug it off if you want, but without getting into details about it, it can be a serious and crippling affliction.

Those of you who've been reading my chunks of world wide web weaving for awhile now may be somewhat familiar with the cast of characters I've introduced to you in the past that have been central to many of the prompts I've had the pleasure of writing for (DMFM, my boy Adam, Bro Mike, Selfish Whore, G-Stamm, Pop Diesel, Verno, The CWC, and I'm sure there are more...if I've left any out, I apologize). Today I'll share a story about my friend mentioned above, who for this purpose we'll call Crash (no need right now to get into that story either). He's Crash, and I'm Chivo, because we were a team not only throughout high school, but especially in Spanish class, where chivo translates to goat (because I was one a handful of kids who could grow rock a goatee).

Me and Crash would goof off all the time in Spanish class. There was a duo of upperclassmen (one year ahead of us) in our class on the other side of the room, and we pretty much had the same group of kids with the same teacher from freshman through junior year. They were hysterical, and we were almost their understudies. How we managed to learn anything with all of the nonsense and chicanery we would pull is amazing and an achievement for the bastion of education itself.

Our teacher was, uhhh, let's just be nice and say, not physically active. She sat in a desk just like ours to run class, in front of her real desk. Rumor has it that during a fire drill she got stuck in that desk, and the custodians had to unscrew the desk from around her. She was also very stern, but had a heart. I liked her not only for what she let us pull, but for bitching at us when we went a little too far. And I would push those limits.

Every year, we had a celebration where we were supposed to bring in Mexican dishes to share with the class. One year I brought in a thermos of coffee rationed with a ridiculous amount of milk, and it was Café Con Leche. Another year I smashed up a bunch of tomatoes and onions, mixed it with some spices, and it was a dope ass salsa. Quick, easy ways out.

One of the coolest things we did was a parody of this commercial in Spanish: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhHONpmlxPc. Because Crash was taller, he played the role of Michael Jordan, dunking on one of those tiny basketball rims with the suction cups we stuck up on the wall while I was Spike Lee's Mars Blackmon, outfitted with an Air Jordan tank top over a t-shirt with a neon green hat that I wrote "Brooklyn" in marker on the turned-up bill, with a clock around my neck (a la Flava Flav http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBlMrGgpwXE). I think I did that "commercial" with one shoe, 'cuz I had to use one my own Jordans as a prop. I wish we still had a tape of that...it'd be hilarious to see now.

There was also the episode at the beginning of class where I dropped my pen and had to reach down and away to my right to retrieve it. Crash thought it was the perfect opportunity to lift up my legs sticking out from the opposite side of my desk, and he tipped me out from my seat onto the floor...in front of the teacher. She didn't find it as funny as we did, and separated us in the classroom. That didn't stop our shenanigans though...looks can be just as pervasive as physical trouble-making. Eventually we were rerouted to our original seating arrangement. Me, being one who learns from experience, wrote an essay about our separation for an exam .

If I really sat and thought about it, Crash and I have had tons of awesome experiences together growing up. I love him like a brother and a best friend to this very day, even if we haven't talked in years. I introduced him to the amazing woman who would become his wife, and I was honored to be considered among the wedding party (which in itself is a whole 'nother story for another time). But life happens. He grew up and his childhood interests became his adult passion, and he's living it today defending our country. I may not understand or agree with the direction our country takes in certain situations, but I stand behind Crash and all the other men and women who decide to risk their lives and families for the sake of national security. I know I've missed chances to see him when he's come back to Buffalo, but I know we'll always have a connection. We've got an unspoken bond. I can't wait to see him again.

BCF PROMPT: It's Sunday...the "Blogging Circle of Friends Prompt Forum"  doesn't operate on Sundays. I'm ok with that. Here's to hoping that blainecindy comes back and restores the awesomeness of the group.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

I had a hard time trying to figure out what to put here. Do I put an ode to Crash? Do I play some kind of happy birthday tribute/dirge for WDC (and I mean dirge in the greatest of respects...work's gotta be tiring, right?) in honor of how awesome the site has been? No. Leave it to me to decide that a random song graces exhibits all I know of 13. From the album "13", one of my favorite bands of all time...

THE DAILY BOX SCORE:

I'm in. I've started playing Candy Crush Saga on Facebook. It's stupid. It's catchy game porn...people like me need something to fill their time, and we can get a snapshot of it, but then it gets taken away from us after so long (and the idea that I'm suddenly gonna reconnect with people I haven't spoken to in years because we play the same game on a social networking site is captivating nonsense.... It's Bejeweled Blitz with a mixed sense of purpose, and that purpose means I need to do something better with my time and life).

13: Don't hold this against me. I do not now look like I do in this picture. I was definitely in my early teens here. I'm rockin' the mullet, large glasses, and striped dark-pinkish shirt. I wish I had a self-deathwish my yearbooks here now...I'd snap a picture of me in them with Blackberry Central so you could see how truly awful I looked.

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And just like that, September first is in the books. Sorry it wasn't more entertaining or noteworthy, but this is what happens occasionally when I'm baring this kinda stuff for public consumption. But don't worry...there's a whole month ahead of this that's bound to be legendary in some way or another. Don't feel obligated to share the link of this blog, but I won't mind if you do. Peace, easily, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!