Yes, that is what my other half (who BTW I love like I love my luggage) has decided to title his memoir after I am either run over by a bus, abducted by aliens or at the very least fatally gored by bulls in Spain. Or perhaps pummeled into submission by tomatoes in that same country. I have to hand it to the Spanish, they just love weird spectacles, whether it involves livestock on the loose or produce at high speed in an alley. Now THAT is my kind of culture!!!
Yes, I was a colicy baby. So much so that by the time I was 9 months old I had had two surgeries for hernias. Seems I was one of those lactose intolerant infants that was allergic to milk. Of any kind. Cow and breast. Yes, I was actually allergic to my mother!!! Which by the way, was a policy that stood for decades. Grandma had a good solution to that though when she got fed up with me screaming in pain as an infant. A couple of tablespoons of warm honey, lemon juice and whiskey. Yep, you actually heard me say that. My first "dealer" was my beloved grandma Flossie. Times were so much simpler back then... Do that kind of shit today and you have Family Services on your front yard with a fleet of M-1 tanks, grenade launchers and a couple of circling helicopters with search lights that could light up a stadium!!!
Being a colicy baby sent me down my very own private Yellow Brick Road at a young age. If I got "fussy", as they called it back then, I got what I wanted. Medicated. Very medicated. Thank you grandma for making me a nine month old lush. It's a precedent I hold dear to my heart to this day. And this from a woman who never touched a "drop of drink" in her almost 74 years. But it did teach me a very valuable lesson: if I don't get what I want (NOW!!!) I just scream. Loud. Really loud. And for a VERY long time. You have one of two options available, you either give me what I want (again, NOW) or you medicate me (once again, NOW). RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!
My other half has seen me go through melt downs that I swear to god would have rivaled the end of the last ice age. He's seen me break things, he's dodged stuff I've thrown and he's actually seen me take out an entire shelf at the grocery store and then lay down in the aisle, kicking and screaming like a three year old. You know why? Because I REALLY want those god damned frosted animal crackers!!! And I better get at least three boxes of those motherfuckers or I'm going down to the end of the aisle and I'm so TOTALLY taking out that end-cap display of canned soup!!!
Once he finally gets this thing published please feel free to come to the autograph signing tour. I'll be signing at the banquet table next to Sarah Palin's signing. Did you know that you can see Russia from her table???
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