December 22nd, 2003


Love Is A Well-Aimed Snowball.

When I was but a wee lad - about six or so - my parents took me and my sister up to the mountains to enjoy some snow. This is one of the many reasons why LA is superior to rest of the world: when we're in that snowsy kind of mood we can hop in the car and visit it like a theme park. Then, when we've had our fill of snow, we can hop back in the car and head back to the land of 75-degree Decembers. Snow is our whore.

After a morning spent repeatedly sliding down the frosty slopes on an inner tube, I was starving. So my dad took us to the food stand for some chili burgers.

While waiting outside in line, I spied what was the prettiest girl I'd ever seen in my six years of existence. I don't remember what she looked like, but she was probably Mexican, given that I had a thing for the Latin ladies during my early years.

Standing behind my dad, I kept peeking at her like a smitten idiot. I couldn't take my eyes away, and yet I was afraid she'd catch me gazing at her. Finally, with my little heart pounding, I decided to make my move.

I threw a snowball at her head.

My dumb ass got her right on the mouth. As she stood there crying, lip slightly bleeding, I felt so fucking awful as I innocently pretended to watch the cook make chili burgers. As her dad furiously looked around for the snowball assassin, I asked myself why I did such a hurtful thing, and my answer was simple: Because.


That's how courtship used to work back in the day. Boys would pull the ponytails of the girls they liked; girls would punch the object of their affection on the neck. It's funny how love and pain are inseparable even before we know how to spell, multiply or name all nine planets of the solar system.

Eventually we stop hitting each other, usually after your teacher explains to you that if you hit someone it means you like that person. But even then, as we get older, we just find other ways of inflicting pain on the opposite sex - unless you're a Korean male like me and the backhanded smacking motion is fused into your DNA (My girlfriend is so going to beat my ass for the last joke).

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