Potstickers for Perry

When I was a youngling, I REALLY loved going to Idaho. Just absolutely loved it. I had relatives in Idaho Falls, and it was always just delightfully delightful to go pay a visit to AMERICA'S TATERLAND (pronounced Tater-lund).



One time (when I was around 4 or 5), my brothers and I were playing basketball with some kids down the street from our house. At some point, I had the ball, and some kid on the other team was yelling at me, but I couldn't understand him to save my life. I think he was mentally handicapped. But I didn't know this. Instead, I yelled back at him, "Yeah? Well, tomorrow I'm going to IDAHO FALLS!" And then everyone was like, "He says it's their ball, Holden. Give him the ball." And then I felt like a MOOORON. Not really though, because how much of a moron can a 5-year-old really feel like?





The state of Idaho. No seriously. This is what
popped up when I googled Idaho. I don't know what
these guys are doing. Possibly mobilizing to take
out the neo-nazis? IDAHO!



Isn't this story so applicable to our lives? Aren't handicapped people always yelling things at us, and we're always yelling things back that have nothing to do with anything, and then everyone gets mad at us? No? Not ever? Oh. Well... this is awkward.