Unoffical Autobio – Part One
Hi, I’m AntoneHenry dot com. You might want to know lots of things about me. This will eventually all be under the “Pages” section.
I was born in a small town in Minnesota called Shakopee. I was raised by my parents and don’t really know where I lived until I was about three. The parents had to part, and I remember living in a trailer in Chaska for a while. Around age five I started preschool at a Catholic elementary school named Guardian Angels. I remember a large playhouse in our classroom. I then moved on to kindergarten from which I remember nothing. I think it was about this time in my life I was being babysat before and after school by some troll of woman I remember was named “Holly.” She had to be pushing two hundred pounds and ran a daycare center in her home. She had me change diapers of the babies, washed my mouth out with soap, spanked many children, kept some kid sitting at the table for five hours cause he wouldn’t eat applesauce (his dad was pretty pissed, I recall,) and kicked me back outside after I peeled my tongue off the swingset in the winter and was bleeding everywhere. There’s probably a lot more that trickles in and out of my memory about this period of my life, but that’s probably the most interesting parts. I continued on in elementary school and was pretty smart I guess. I was offered to skip the third grade, but declined because I didn’t want to leave my friends. All in all, that was a bad life decision. The next year I ballooned up to about 90lbs in third grade, and I don’t think I talk to any of those kids anymore. It probably also didn’t help that I moved, for probably the eighth time in four years or something, to a ranch place where no one I knew was around for miles. I played baseball, and was one of the the husky kids on the team. I played pretty well at that time, and my team was always winning first place in our league. That was fun. Continuing on, I made friends with mostly girls at that time. For some reason I enjoyed gabbing a bunch, and tried to have girlfriends at the age of 10. I recall buying a girl a golden locket from target or something and giving it to her on Valentine’s day, she kept it for a couple of hours and sent it back with a note saying she couldn’t accept it. I went on to junior high, still at the same Catholic school and learned the history of the bible and Jesus. This is coming in handy today, since I don’t remember a crazy amount. But I started playing basketball for school, we were terrible. I think we won 2 games in three years. I scored 17 points once for a consolation championship, and remember the other teams coach yelling, “Cover that guy!” That’s still a proud feeling for me. It was about this time too, I started realizing busting my ass in school was getting me nothing. So I created my own, do the least amount I can to just get by and still got A’s. I had a teacher in junior high named Mrs. Peroutka, she seemed to think I was a problem child. I was a good kid, just loud and obnoxious, so she kept her eye on me. A little too closely at times, I still feel. She was actually pretty funny, but not very bright. I swear to this day I could have taught better than her. We read a story in our english books about falcons, she then gave us a worksheet related directly to that story. The worksheet must have been confusing, because a lot of us had to ask her questions. She then got up in front of the class and announced, “This whole worksheet is about falcons!” I very sarcastically replied, “Nooo, it’s about cheeese.” I was asked to sit in the hall, I deserved that one. Though another time I had my head down on my desk and she stopped class to yell, “Antone! Cut it out.” I replied, “I wasn’t even looking at anyone!” She then said, “No, but you were thinking…” I didn’t deserve that one. I was elected school president in eighth grade. I hung campaign ads with pictures of Blink-182 and WWF wrestlers. Two taglines that come to mind are, “Vote for Antone, Cause Stone Cold Said So!” and “Voting for Antone Makes Cents” and I had a picture of a piggy bank. Not sure how voting for me would raise money, but I thought I was pretty clever. No one would have ever thought of that play on words before me. I did get OJ and Strawberry Milk for lunch. I also organized a school dance. This was very exciting, it took place after school hours. We were just about done setting up, when someone got the idea to go to the coffee shop on the corner. Since we were all mature adults I said it would probably be okay that we went. We walked out the door, and got called back halfway through the playground. We were in big trouble for leaving. Well, I was. Since I was somehow the “ringleader” I was sent home before the dance started. Mrs. Olsen sympathized with me, but Mrs. Peroutka really thought I was behind the whole thing. I don’t even think I went outside with the other kids, come to think of it. So anyway, about this time I started dating a girl. She was really into Jesus. Her whole family was. I ended up attending youth groups and going to Jesus Camp that summer after eighth grade. (Eighth is a weird word now that I have typed it twelve times.) Somehow I became certain that this man, Jesus, was born unto a virgin, Mary, and died because I sinned. He was the perfect man, son of God even. Then at Jesus Camp I questioned this. Some speaker scared me shitless. While I was trying to be a good christian, he was telling me that God was perfect and there was no way to go to heaven and kick it with God because I am a sinner. I freaked out. I had to get a counselor to tell me that Jesus bridged the gap between perfect, he took all of my sins so I could be chillin with the man upstairs. I was content again. So I blindly went on my way, telling off friends who didn’t believe in God that they were blind and needed Jesus. I attended more church camp and sang and put my hands in the air and cried about God’s love while everyone else around me did the same thing. Very gay. So anyway I started high school and had the choice to be friends with whoever I wanted. I started public school and I was new, everyone was like “who’s that dude?” It was me, and I was awesome. I gelled my hair up in front, which kinda looked like one of those garden tillers or whatever. Looked like a tidal wave of teeth on the front of my forehead. But my sister convinced me that this was cool. I wore lots of button up plaid shirts, and started to only wear cargo pants. I wouldn’t wear jeans again til after high school. My first year of public school had a lot of memories I suppose. There was this girl in my homeroom that tried to befriend me by writing love notes to red neck dudes in one of our classes and signing my name at the bottom. I remember coming out of class after that day with one girl telling another “He’s gay.” The other, “No way! Are you serious?” They stopped talking when they noticed me nearby. This is funny now, but I was pretty pissed. I wouldn’t talk to the girl who wrote the notes, I would literally just ignore her when she talked to me, so she told me and everyone around that I had PMDD. Oh man! I befriended this dude who scared the shit out of me for the last few years. Us catholic school kids would bus to the public school for home ec and shop and that kinda stuff, and there was this dude with a big mohawk. Our introduction was me listening to the rock remix of “All About the Benjamins” on my cd player (as I did everyday) and asked, “What are you listening to?” I said, “Puff Daddy.” “Puff Daddy sucks!” His friend chimed in, “Pantera!” and stuck out his tounge and made devil horns. It was scary. But I actually talked to this mohawk kid on the bus to public school and we took walks after we got home everyday. He and another guy turned me on to Christian Pop Punk, so I was super into that. I ended up never picking a group of friends, I kinda just drifted around and talked to everyone who gave a poo. I started dating another girl at the end of that year, we banged. Almost a year went by, and she broke my heart. It’s okay now, I’m over it, thanks for your worries. But I was certain that I was going to hell for banging and scared to death of how intense things could get when you were banging. I avoided that for another couple years, and if it came up, I ran away. Like a real man. It was about this time I had to quit playing baseball because kids were throwing curveballs and I had no idea how to hit that shit. I struck out all the time. So that was a big bummer.
More to come. I’m done writing for now.
Categories: Thinking, That's All
Tags: Narcissism, Story
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