When I was about three years old, I learned that my Mom was going to knit me a sweater. I liked sweaters, as most kids do, so this was some thrilling news. For weeks I dreamed about where all I could wear it: to a movie; on a walk with the dogs; maybe I could even throw up in it. I mean seriously, the possibilities were endless. This might very well be the first piece of clothing I would remember in adulthood so I had better make it count. The days went on, and the sweater started to take shape. First the neck, then the torso area (whatever it is called), some arms and finally the finishing touches, 2 little puppies in the middle looking out at the world saying, “here comes Mike in his fancy new sweater, you better get the fuck out of his way.” It was white, gold and green, because everything in 1978 was white, gold and green and it was the finest sweater anyone had ever made. Then came the big day, my Mom called me into the room and presented me with what was sure to be my new favorite thing ever. So I am sure she was surprised when my reaction was, “I hate it and I hate you” and then I ran off screaming like an idiot. What put me in this foul mood is still a mystery, maybe I saw a Life Cereal commercial and I was pissed they kept saying how much I would like it, who knows, but all my Mom could do was laugh at me. She immediately called my aunt and all of her friends to tell them what I said. I still have not lived this down.
Note: Some of the events in this post may not be as they actually occurred, but I was three, so you can just shut up about it.