I think I was dreaming about when I was a mascot.

Settle down. I never donned a fuzzy full body costume and acted like an idiot to strum up team spirit. When the prophetic mascot war enters it's battle phase I might. That cursed Sourdough Sam from the 49ers has been acting like a trifflin ass bitch. I'm gonna peel that chump's cap back.

My reign as a mascot revolved around the Girl Scout universe. See, my folks volunteered to become the den parents for my sis' scout troupe one year. At the tender age of nine or ten I still could not be trusted to chill by myself for extended periods of time. I was the king of stupid boy acts. Constantly burning whatever seemed flammable and disposable in the fireplace. Heh heh, magazines give off an etherial otherworldly glow spike when burnt, heh heh. Ahem. I would perform chemical experiments in the toilet. Smidgen of this household product, a dash of this prescribed medication. Wish I could remember the recipe for the bubbling frothy periwinkle blue foam that multiplied quickly from the toilet bowl.

So, I was dragged along to every Girl Scout event. Dozens of giggling and snickering brown and green uniformed girls. Constantly waiting for me to say something they could titter at. Oh yay.....a trip to the doll museum.....how fun.

I became the official representative of the boy race in every gathering. If my folks needed an example of lad activity I was called upon to showcase and perform. I was expected to either join in whatever mass girlie thing was going on or idle on the sidelines quietly. Course, I often did not idle quietly.

Once I arranged to be at the rollerskating rink all day with my homies, keeping me from the scheduled pottery making at the Craft Alliance. The aftermath was tumultuous apparently. The girls were not happy to be denied their mascot. I was told that my presence was required for the duration of my folks den parents term. Groan.

Occasionally it was amusing. If it was an activity that I deemed, in my infinite childhood experience, as not too wussy, I would secretly enjoy it. I never was a boy who thought girls had cooties or were icky. I had no problems playing four square with girls involved. I didn't mind a peck on the cheek, I was immune to girl germs. I remember actually requesting to have my assigned seat in the fourth grade be at a table with girls at the three other seats. Mostly cause I was constantly getting in trouble for classroom antics. Thought I wouldn't be as rampant surrounded by girls. Bad theory.

If memory serves me right, I acted more rowdy near the girls eventually. Not just in the classroom. The Girl Scout troupe would discover that I would not take taunting and teasing lightly after I had my fill. Gross out humor and impish pranks reaped my revenge. I developed into a naughty mascot causing squeals, screams, and ewwwwwws.

My folks began encouraging alternate activities for me to partake in. I became a temporary guest at many of my homie's homes. It was unilaterally decided by the St.Louis McKnight Public School branch of the girl force, that my mascot talents were no longer needed. I was given an honorable discharge. The giggles would haunt me no more.