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When Patrick was growing up, he thought it was cool when Mom broke out the “family sweaters,” and they’d all go to a museum or a zoo and everyone there would know they were related. If Patrick or his sister ever got lost, they were much easier to find. It was a '70s thing...you had to be there.
Bad clothing habits are some of the hardest to break, and Patrick's uncanny ability to find a bad sweater is undiminished. He also still tries to find four-packs, but they’re increasingly rare. The one thing that’s changed is Patrick’s sense of self-identity: now he likes wearing the same sweater as the rest of his family, but not on the same day. And this is the first time he agreed to be photographed alone. Wait until he really blossoms!
When Rog was little, his parents thought it was cute to brush his hair like this and take pictures, but it sent him a message: this is a great way to get attention!
Message received. That’s why, in addition to the hair, Rog has also worked some bling and a little crotch-fondlin’ into the attention-getting mix. It still works, but not for the reasons he thinks it does.
Lonnie never forgot the magical high school moment when not only did he have two bodacious babes sucking on his nipples at the same time, but his best friend also grabbed a camera, capturing the moment for posterity and allowing Lonnie to spend the remainder of his adolescence reliving the electric pleasure of this completely mind-blowing moment. He even momentarily forgot to keep holding his stomach in. He framed this photo and still sleeps with it beneath his pillow.
Because Lonnie really, really liked it. So much so that he’s spent most of the rest of his life trying to find another woman or two to suckle from his man-teats. He’s continually making this proffering gesture, but it’s very, very seldom that anyone takes him up on it.
From the time Beau was just a little kid, he had this incredible ability to rock out. And the crowd reaction, even from immediate family members, was insane—there’s Grandma doing her closed-eye drunken dance, Dad checking to see if he shit his pants, and Mom laughing wildly. Meanwhile, Beau’s oblivious to everything but the sweet sound of his voice and his wicked guitar licks.
Today Beau’s really got that rocker mouth thing down pat, and of course he’s dressed in nothing but black leather since third grade. He spends at least two hours a day working out and posing in his walk-in closet. He still transports himself, and only himself, to another realm when he gets his music on, but he’s always on the lookout for fans. Where are the damn fans? That's what he doesn't understand. And it’s costing an arm and a leg to rent this auditorium on off nights and pretend there’s a crowd there, much less other band members. He can’t even afford the mike if he’s going to use the lights. Beau might have to give up the dream soon, and then something bad's going to happen.
Trevor and Tracy loved the beach, and even though they didn’t know how to walk, they tried to make up for it with lots of exercise, hair dye, and enthusiastic smiles. They eagerly crawled their way to the shore each morning for some pre-work body surfing, and for years the crowds adored them.
Problem is, Trevor and Tracy never bothered learning how to walk, and they became more lax in their grooming and exercising routines, so people stopped paying as much attention. One day a big wave knocked both of them out, and they drifted to shore, where they lay senseless for an hour, then woke up in this position. Now they’re grimly hoping their nanny comes looking for them before high tide.
Leslie couldn’t control his temper when people weren’t sure he was a boy, and many of his classmates at the Pennsylvania Dutch School of Hex Sign Painting were subjected to what Leslie liked to call the neck nick.
Leslie still gets a little hot under the collar when anyone questions his sexuality, his food or music preferences, or his overuse of cologne, but now that he’s a little older he likes to think he’s refined the neck nick to more of a neck knock.
Celeste will never forget that perfect summer when all the good things in her life coincided. Rocco was making decent money, and most of the time he wore long sleeves to hide his bruises. Better yet, his mother, Amadora, who was visiting from the old country, broke her leg and had to stay out of the kitchen. And her little bambino, Giuseppe, was at the perfect age to find it vaguely amusing when Celeste “pretended” to give Rocco a little kick in the pants.
Now widowed and abandoned by her son, Celeste spends most of her time imagining the day when she finally meets up with Rocco again in heaven. Mamma mia!, she is gonna give him such a whacking for leaving her alone all these years.
