Why be Zormal?

DISCLAIMER: My mother has nothing to do with how strange I am. I am in no way implying that my childhood was in any way traumatic or imperfect. I accept full responsibility for every decision I made from the age of birth to now. I do not think that the fact my mom ran while she was pregnant with me "shook my brains up" as I have previously implied. Nor do I believe that my dad's "wizened old man sperm" caused damage to the part of my brain that manages impulse control.

As some of you may have noticed, I'm just not super normal. I say things that should not be said and do things that should not be done.

How did I become this way? I've decided to show you, not in words, but pictures.

1992ish

This is the first time I got high. I was almost two, which would be a family record, if it hadn't been for that time Uncle Bill accidentally...okay, this is getting off topic. I'm not here to point fingers or contradict what the DEA was told during their investigation. This is about me.

When I was about 2, it was decided that instead of going through life earning unfavorable nicknames based on the fact that my right eye turned in towards my nose, I would undergo surgery.

Things have changed in hospitals since 1992. They no longer shoot you up with what I'm assuming is the baby equivalent of crack cocaine and then allow you to wander the halls like a zombie. There are many pictures of me under the influence, mostly sitting in chairs looking at my feet in amazement. I'm glad my parents found my drug induced antics worth photographing. Hell, if they had done that in high school I might have a lot more memories of my senior year.

1992ish

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and my parents needed a wine that would multitask. Enter Franzia. As we all know, Franzia is so much more than just a breakfast drink. For around $10, you get:

• Box- this is very convenient for carrying and storing your bag of wine. After it's served it's initial purpose you can use it to transport small animals or make a dollhouse Or, as my parents did, collect about 15 or 20 and turn them into gigantic building blocks! Fun for everyone!
  
• Bag- Keeps the wine from making a huge mess. When you've finished the wine (should take 1-4 days depending on how dedicated you are to your child's happiness) the bag can be inflated to make fun pool toys, or, in the case of Cuban nationals, a raft to get the Hell out of Cuba. (Must look into this...could start a Harriet Tubman-esque Franzia rescue mission.)
• Actual Wine- Great for helping you forget that you procreated too soon/too late and will now have to be raising children during the prime of your life/paying for college with your retirement fund. Also can serve as life saving transfusion material if you happen to be the son of christ.
  

1994

When I showed this picture to my mom, she pointed out that no one had actually forced me to eat a duck head. I chose to do this because I knew it would be a good way to get attention. Nice to see nothing's changed.

All I can be sure of is that summer, while most of my friends were at Myrtle beach eating hot dogs and chicken fingers, I was in Beret-ville chowing down on goose liver pate and gnawing on duck heads.

1996

Not a lot to say about this one. I'm just not sure why not one of the at least 9 people that were present at this second could tell me that my shirt was on backwards. Maybe it was because the expression on my face was so explosively ecstatic they couldn't bear to bring me down.

If this picture had a caption I'm pretty sure it would be "ZOMFG I AM SO FUCKING HAPPY TO BE ON THIS FUCKING SOCCER TEAM THAT IF I OPEN MY FUCKING EYES MY FUCKING BRAIN WILL EXPLODE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Which is weird, because I distinctly remember hating soccer.

If anyone even finds this vaguely amusing, I have more pictures, including my "blue" phase, which lasted, by my calculations, for 12 years.