Well, fuck. Now I'm scared shitless for my son and he's only 5 months old.
I grew up going to hockey games every weekend, and so the smell of cold hockey sweat is embedded deeply into my memory (stored, I'm sure, right next to the smell of Chillicothe, Ohio). I never minded it, but I sure wouldn't want to have my nose shoved into a large body cavity full of it.
All those taunts I got for not wearing a bra by the time everyone else was wearing them don't really seem so bad anymore.
My only hope can be that my son grows up to be as big as I was in high school. Nobody made me do anything.
I am gasping for breath from laughing at the descriptions here--who knew jockstraps and scrappy lefty players could merit such hilarious descrptions??
I am so glad you reposted this. A few months ago, I was emailing with a friend/blog reader who went to high school with you and she mentioned the this entry and how strange it was to hear someone describing her high school and people she knew. I tried to find this but couldn't.
I'm still not sure that high school boys have it worse than high school girls, but this story made me want to give poor freshman Dutch a hug.
It was called the one-arm lift at the Frat where my friends pledged. It was painful to watch. They always included a group of ladies to be spectators. I had no idea what it was and after I saw it the first time I just upped and left. It made me feel gross and I just hated seeing how the girls who knew what was going on where right in there. Talk about mob mentality. Gross.
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