Funny Guy Friday... If I knew then what I know now...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each Friday by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
      I often have the stupid desire to either live vicariously through my kids... or to go back in time and relive parts of my childhood but with the same skills and knowledge that I have today.
      For instance, when I watch my son's ten-year-old baseball team getting crushed by a team of bullies (they aren't really bullies, I just call them that because they are better than we are), I have the burning desire to grab a bat and go up to the plate and take a few swings or to line up deep at short and gun down those little brats as they sprint down the sixty foot base path. Chicks dig it when you gun down little punks. Of course, a fifty-year-old guy would look kind of silly out there doing all of that with a bunch of ten-year-olds.
     Buuuuut... if I could do that in a ten-year-old's body... then, we'd be in business.
     Or how about Grace... off in college.
     Let's see... sleep, eat, walk five minutes to class, eat, and study. No bills... no clients... friends around 24/7. That would be the life.
     Similar thoughts have crossed my mind as Matthew regales us with high school tales.
     He is having a great time. He seems to be doing well in his classes. He seems to be making friends.  He seems to be completely at ease with all the new people he has met... including the gals.
     I am going to let everyone in on a little self-revelation. I may not have been as cool back in high school as I thought I was.
     I know what you are thinking: Wow... he is way cool now. How is it possible he wasn't cool in high school? 
     Well, let me be clear, I may have been cool, but I did not know it.
     I was a nice guy but sort of shy and insecure. Don't get me wrong, had I gone to all those parties that I did not get invited to, people would have spoken to me... I think.
     Upon reflection, nobody actually got invited to those parties anyway; everyone just kind of showed up and ruined the houses of kids whose parents weren't home. But that was really not for me. There was no way I was going to go to somebody's house for a party if their parents weren't home.
     Okay, in high school, I was definitely not as cool as I thought.
     In my defense, bad things happened at those parties.
     I recall going to the store with my dad when I was a junior and driving past a house that had the gutters falling off the roof, the front door was off the hinges, and the shingles were dangling from the house. My dad stopped and wondered aloud what had happened. I told him that the kid who lived there had had a party and kids ransacked the house.
     He asked for names and I told him that I didn't know exactly who had done it because there were more than a hundred kids there... so I had heard. His exact words were I would find out which of those hundred kids did that to my house, and I would hunt them down and would beat the hell out of them. 
     I chuckled nervously... because he wasn't smiling... and commented that it was probably some kids that he knew that were friends of mine and/or my brother. He demanded names and I obliged. After all, I wouldn't want him to beat the hell out of me. Then he said...
     Those kids would never do that to my house.
     How do you know that those kids wouldn't do that to your house?
     Because those kids know me well enough to know that I would... hunt them down... and beat the hell out of them!
     My dad was correct with his analysis of the situation. Those kids did know... and they wouldn't have messed with his stuff! 
     My dad was cool!
     I wish that I had been as cool as he was. He was a bad ass.
     I, on the other hand... I stayed home on Friday nights and watched Dallas.
     JR was a bad ass, but I soon learned that the goings on in Dallas were only make believe. Did they seriously expect us to believe that Bobby could come back from the dead? Seriously, his wife dreamt all that? C'mon!
     I digress.
     So now Matthew has me thinking that I would like to go back to my high school days... but with the same skills and knowledge that I have today.
     I would have been a better student. I would have had way more friends. I would have gone to all the cool parties. I may have even smashed a door or something cool like that. And I would have been way smoother with the gals. My life would be way different than it is today.
     Don't let Cheryl know this, but if I had it all to do over again, I would go back and date a cheerleader or a pom pom. Back in the day, I felt that those girls were out of my league. They went to all the parties... they had all the friends... they went to all the pep rallies and games.
     But now, in a do-over, if you will, I would approach them with all the wisdom of a fifty-year-old. How could they resist me?
     What's that? Cheryl was a pom pom? But she didn't go to the cool parties... Did she? She didn't have a bunch of cool friends... Did she? She didn't go to all the pep rallies and the games... Did she? She didn't smash any doors. At least I don't think she smashed any doors... I mean I wasn't at the parties or anything, but I can only assume.
     No way.
     I am not going back in time with all of my current skills and knowledge only to date Cheryl. Cheryl was one of those girls that stayed home on Friday nights and... watched... uh... watched... uh... Dallas... right?
     Oh my gosh... Cheryl was cooler than I was back in high school. This is humiliating.
     Okay, maybe I could go back and at least look her up.
     This might not be such a bad idea... to approach her with all my fifty years' worth of knowledge because my life isn't so bad. In fact, it is pretty good, so there is no reason for it to be all that different.
     Although, I wonder what Cheryl was like when she was ten.
     Maybe if I go back in time as a fifty-year-old guy in a ten-year-old's body, she'd come and watch me play baseball and take a few cuts and line up deep at short and gun down little brats as they sprint down the 60 foot base path.
    She would love it!
    You see, over the years, I have learned that chicks dig that kind of stuff.