We would also drink red flavored punch beverages

When I was in sixth grade, I’d go to my friend Jamie’s house after school sometimes. Jamie’s parents weren’t around after school. We would cook up a can of Chef Boy-ar-dee ravioli and go up in his room. The room had a cool loft in it, and we’d climb up there. We would play records and look at dirty magazines while eating our Chef Boy-Ar-Dee. I remember looking at all this weird crap in the dirty magazines like dildoes and ball-stretchers and various other things that you stick in people or have people whack you with. We didn’t understand any of it but pretended to each other that we did.

Jamie had a record player in his room, too, so we listened to stuff. Mostly we listened to whatever we weren’t supposed to, so dirty comedy was the #1 choice. A personal favorite of his was “The Crepitation Contest” which was all about farting. Also there was some Monty Python.

And then we’d listen to some ELO. Which is why Matthew Sweet’s version of “Do Ya” triggered this memory.

Weird thing is, I still like Chef Boy-Ar-Dee ravioli although I know it’s shit.

16 thoughts on “We would also drink red flavored punch beverages

  1. spaghetti o’s are shit too, but i love them just the same. i even like them with meatballs or those hot dog bits, although i prefer the plain ones best.

  2. ah, fond memories
    I tried to Google the transcript of the farting contest. This is how I remember it. Something along the lines of
    “Nigel Edwards now up for the green team. He steps to the farting pole, a look of intense concentration on his face. A critical moment in the match. The crowd is silent. *prolonged absurd farting noise* A BOOMER! He’s unleashed a boomer. The crowd is going wild. That’s 10 points for the green team…. etc. etc.”
    Now I have to find a copy of that. I’m off to Ebay. Thanks for the memories.

      1. Re: ah, fond memories
        OMG, I had no idea that I knew what he was talking about until the trascription. Fucking brilliant. I had totally forgotten about this…

  3. Figs (or whatever Gilbert stole from the convenience store; usually Jolt colas and Abba Zabbas) at the park by the Costa Mesa/Huntington border. Behind the “Welcome to Costa Mesa” sign was a gold mine for dirty magazines. Human feces, too.
    Caffeine in 20 oz styrofoam wrapped glass jugs and smut that I failed to understand worked wonders for a young Brandon. Hitting things with sticks was also helpful.

  4. o/~ Higher and higher, baby! o/~
    I have a vivid memory of that song. I was on the ski lift – a T-bar – gliding up the bunny slope with that song playing. I began shuffling my feet to the music. My skis were crappy wooden things of which I was mortally ashamed, with cable bindings strapped onto my skidoo boots. One step out of place caused my foot to slip out of the boot. The ski, with the boot still in it, slid down the lift line, then angled out to menace the descending skiers.
    I had to walk hundreds of yards past laughing onlookers, in one stocking foot, tears of rage and humiliation burning on my face, to retrieve my ski.

      1. And here I thought I was the only person who remembered that. 🙂
        I’m sure I’ve got that on cd here *somewhere*…

      2. man if you have got it, i would love get a copy, ive spoken to many people about this wonderful track, but no one as ever heard of it…help me with a copy please.

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