Before I start this trip down memory lane, I want to let you know I stole this idea from my friend Emily's blog, Simple Home Loving.
Considering the childhood I come from and my pension for being overly outgoing while simultaneously uncomfortably nervous, you can imagine that my life is a bustling farm for comic gold. Today, I will unearth some of those little gems and share them with you. I advise not drinking any beverages while reading this post.
- When I was in 7th grade I had a huge crush on this kid named Mike. Pagers were all the rage at the time, as was 3-way calling. My best friend Cassie had a pager, and she had taught me all these cool paging codes that meant different things. Like paging someone 143 was supposed to mean I love you. So one night I started paging her all these crazy pager codes, and when I ran out of legit ones, I just started making them up. I started paging her 144 over and over. When she finally got home from wherever she was, she called me and asked "What the hell does 144 mean?" pretty much as soon as I answered the phone. With a huge grin on my face, quite proud of how clever I was, I announced that it meant "I like Mike" at that moment the phone went silent, Cassie started giggling, and a deep boy's voice said "Hi Sarah". Cassie had 3-way called me with Mike on the phone, and didn't tell me. I damn near peed my pants.
- Or how about again in 7th grade (7th grade was not a very good year for me) when I was swimming in my best friend Marie Mullen's hot tub at her house. I was pretty hardcore in love with her older brother Easton. We're outside, swimming, minding our own business and gossiping about the boys we liked. I started going on and on about Easton, in a very embarrassing way, gushing about his eyes, his smile, his muscles, on and on and on. I noticed Marie was smiling at me funny, so I turned around, and of course, there was Easton. Laughing at me, not two feet away. I tried unsuccessfully to drown myself the rest of the afternoon.
- My freshman year of high school when my friend Meghan and I decided to try smoking pot for the first time. She came over while my dad wasn't home, and we smoked what I realize now was the closest to an unsafe amount of pot humanly possible. It took so long to feel anything, we just kept smoking more and more, trying to feel some sort of effect. Finally, while watching Monty Python's Holy Grail, it all kicked in at once. I experienced several thoughts and emotions in a very short amount of time, and remember thinking "Oh-oh God, you're violently fucking high." After eating an entire bag of pretzels, laughing at Meghan for 30 minutes because she looked like a bunny, and getting in the shower with all my clothes on, we passed out on my bed and slept hard. Maybe an hour later, I wake up to a pounding on my window. My first thought, of course, is that there is a sea of cops outside, guns drawn, waiting to exact a tactical invasion of my house and arrest me for smoking my dad's pot. Not for smoking pot, for smoking my dad's pot. That's worse. Finally Meghan woke up and had the common sense to realize it was her mom. No-THAT'S WORSE. We got up and answered the door, and her mom stood there, bewildered, holding out Meghan's contacts case. Being the quick thinker that I am, I decided she wouldn't suspect anything if I had a nice pleasant conversation with her. So I started talking. And couldn't. fucking. stop. I talked for a good 15 minutes, about what, to this day I cannot remember, and her eyes grew wider and wider, and Meghan hid behind the door, begging me to stop. Finally Meghan pinched me, or I got hungry or something and told her mom quickly-and loudly-"Meghan has explosive diarrhea and I have to go.....ummm...help her" and slammed the door in her face. Nice save.
- Have I told you about the time I was taking a nap with my mom when I was 5 or 6 and my sisters, being the awesome sisters they were, wanted to make me pee my pants? Well they tried everything, but alas my bladder held strong, and after soaking my hand in a bowl of warm water for 10 minutes, they got desperate and just poured the water on the front of my shorts. Then woke my mom up and told her I peed. I got in trouble. The best part is they didn't tell me I really didn't pee, until I was 18. Thanks guys.
- How about the time when I was pregnant with Tiny, and her dad wanted to give me a piggy back ride? Why he would want to give a piggy back ride to a 7 months pregnant girl, I have no idea, but he did, and I let him. Halfway through he was making me laugh so hard, I had to pee. I yelled for him to let me down, because holding it when you're pregnant is fucking impossible. He wouldn't. He grabbed my legs tighter and kept going, cracking jokes and tickling the backs of my knees. All of a sudden he stopped dead in his tracks and said "Are you peeing on me?" and dropped me like a sack of bricks. I ran to the bathroom, crying and yelling "I told you to put me down! I said I had to go!" When I came out I had to face the huge pee spot on my boyfriends back, and a good 3 months of endless teasing about my accident. Jerk.
- When I was 20 I joined a gym with some friends on the agreement that we would all work out together. There were 3 girls, and 3 guys. The 3 guys pretty much spent the entire time lifting weights and talking about protein powder. When one of them started taking these muscle building supplements, the smallest of the three guys got super excited and wanted to know where to get some so he could take them too. He was 25 and didn't have an ounce of muscle to call his own. Being the evil jerk I am sometimes known to be, I told him he didn't want to take them. "Why?" he asked, his face all aglow, just begging to be fucked with. "Because" I said "you have to take them rectally." I explained. He looked confused. "They're anal suppositories bro. You put 'em up your ass and let them dissolve." I explained further. Then, the guy who was taking them did something that made me want to kiss him right on the lips. With a completely straight face, he said "You have to take like six a day." Thinking this had to be enough to keep little scrawny from taking them, we all forgot about it, until 3 days later, me and the muscly one were hanging out when we get a call from scrawny, who is distressed. "Bro" he says, his voice a crackin and sounding very perplexed. "They won't stay in man. Those muscle pills. They just keep falling out, all half dissolved. My girlfriend thinks I have some weird disease." And that my friends, is why I am the very worst kind of person.
- When I was 18, my boyfriend took me to a Suicide Girls show, and I fell in love. Not in a lesbiany way, but I just so totally wanted to be those girls. All beautiful, all unique, all pierced and tatted up. Yes! I was skinny, had only 2 tattoos to call my own, and not exactly porn star material by any means, but I wanted to be a Suicide Girl. Bad. To apply you have to send in pictures of yourself, along with a story of why you wanted to be a Suicide Girl. My best friend Lucia and I decided we could so totally do this, and agreed, being the super close BFF's we were, that we would take each other's pictures. What was the big deal? We'd seen each other in our underpants before. No problem. Yeah. What resulted was 120 of the most awkward, uncomfortable, half naked pictures to ever grace the memory card of a camera, and Lucia and I not being able to look each other in the eye for weeks afterward. Life lesson girls: don't ever agree to take softcore porny pictures of your bestie. Ever. It's just.....wrong. Needless to say, I never sent in the pictures, and I am still not a suicide girl.
- When I was 18 I got pissed off at a party and drunk dialed my mom. Classy, I know.
- I used to get drunk and sit on my friend Meghan's back and ride her like a sled down my stairs. In my defense, it was fun and I really wanted to do it.
- When I was 6 or 7, my family had like a million cats. I am not even sure that's an exaggeration. We had a few cats that my parents never fixed, and they got pregnant, and had more, who got pregnant and had more, until our backyard was like Land of the Kittens. Our cats lived outside, and were dusty and dirty all the time, and at one point we had probably 10 that were little kittens. One day while playing with my friend Jaime, who was a serious animal lover, we decided to start a club. The club was something like an animal advocacy club, basically, dedicated to helping all the poor, lost, sick and mistreated animals of the world. We were 6, we didn't know about the ASPCA yet. Anyway, I convinced her I was already a part of a club like that. A bigger, cooler, international club, and I could get her in if she wanted to join. I want to stop here, and preface what I am about to tell you with the information that Jaime was super annoying. She was an only child, she was bossy and bratty and she always smelled like wet dough. Anyway, Jaime was over the top excited, and wanted to be in my bullshit club more than anything. I told her she would have to pass the "Dedication Test" to prove that her life's mission really was to help animals. Practically salivating at the chance to prove herself, she hastily agreed to do whatever I asked. Her mistake. I went outside and gathered up 9 or 10 kittens and brought them to my room. I told her the kittens mommy has died, and if they didn't get a bath, they would die too. Jaime, bless her annoying little heart, looked like she wanted to cry. She suggested we put them in the tub and bathe them, but I was way ahead of her. I said if we put them in the tub, they would panic and have heart attacks and die. "Jaime" I said in the most serious, Robert Stack-ish voice I could do "They need to be tongue bathed. They need to be tongue bathed to survive." And poor Jaime, poor sweet Jaime, didn't even hesitate. She grabbed a kitten and started licking it's back, belly, face and legs. She was coughing and crying a little and said her tongue burned, and lucky for her, my dad walked in during the middle of kitty #5's tongue bath. I'm sure the scene looked back, me sitting there trying not to laugh, while Jaime clutched a screaming kitten and licking it's face. He made Jaime go home, and told me she probably shouldn't come over again. The next day at school, I told her she couldn't be in the club, because she didn't finish all the kittens.
And THAT is why I am the very worst kind of person.