Psst...
Hi.
I know I haven't written you lately and...well...I suppose the easy answer is that there's just been a lot going on. But, I hate neglecting you. And since there was 'stuff' on my mind, I thought I'd get it down and you could do that thing you do where you read my long-winded nonsensical crap and roll your eyes that cute way that you do and then send me back a note telling me to please stop sending you email or you're gonna get the cops involved.
I was cleaning this weekend and ran across a high school yearbook. It was the one from our senior year. I opened it up and looked around a little. Reminiscing about that football player I had a crush on (you know who he is, I don't have to write his name here), and clubs I was in. Working on the yearbook staff. Hanging out with my friends. And I saw your picture. And the note you wrote in my yearbook. I know I owe you email. I wanted to let you know that I do think about you from time to time.
You remember when we were young and wild? You and I would get into so much trouble. Best friends do that, I guess. And our parents never found out about it. Well, your parents didn't find out about it as much as they got a vibe and told you that I was a bad influence. Heh. As if.
Like that time, during the summer between our junior and senior years in high school, when Robin was having an affair with the married man that lived across the street from her. The one whose kids she would occasionally babysit. And they had that really cool swimming pool and the guy's wife was out of town and he had invited us over for a midnight swim. So, you and Robin and I all got our folks to let us spend the night at Pam's (whose folks were out of town) and then we snuck back over to her neighborhood in the middle of the night to go swimming. Well....you and I went swimming, anyway. And then on the way back to Pam's house at about 3AM, Robin's car ran out of gas. There we were with no car in the middle of nowhere in our goddam bathing suits at 3AM. Lucky for us that ambulance came by and picked us all up. Those guys dropping us off at the IHOP was a real stroke of luck! And, hey, we had Robin's car off that road by 6AM when her dad would have passed it on his way to work. So...you know...all was well.
I'll bet I missed curfew twenty times that summer. Sneaking in through the basement window most of the time. Except that one time when I tried to sneak in the front door and my @*&%! key broke off in the lock and I had to knock and wake my folks up to let me in. Boy, were they mad.
Or, hey, remember that time we went to that party way out in the sticks with those guys we met at the fair? I don't remember their names. Do you? Whatever. Anyway, we got so drunk that I couldn't even remember driving home. It was like I remembered getting in the car and the next thing I remember was taking the exit ramp off the highway near my folks house. What's that...like 10 miles? Gotta be. Geez, I could have run 40 people off the road in 10 miles. I'd have never known it.
What about that time when we went over to our bosses apartment and you drank so much, you started kissing my boyfriend and I decided to pay you back by taking the guy you had a serious crush on into the back bedroom and making a man out of him? Heh. Was that really us? We just had no sense whatsoever, did we?
We thought we were such big shit in those days.
Remember going up to the Hideaway Tavern? We were what 17? 18? The bartender would give us beer if we kissed him. Many's the night we came out of there pretty drunk and never spent a buck. And if you dressed like a slut and played a little pool, you'd make more than a few new friends, too. But I doubt either of us would know anything about that, huh? AH HA HA HA!!!
Seeing Heart in concert was kinda cool. But you were so high, I doubt you even remember it. Yeah, okay, so I'd smoked a little myself, but you were a mess. At least I wasn't falling down in the parking lot, hollering about how that was "the best fucking night of my life" and that they were "the best fucking band EVER". What a dweeb!
How many times did we cut French 101 when we were Freshmen at U of L? Yeah, at least once a week. But, we had fun. Didn't we? Way better to hang out at the sandwich shop drinking pitchers and playing video games. And, so what if our grades weren't all that. College is about more than classes. It's about having fun and living life, too, you know. We sure got that down, didn't we? LOL!
Sometimes I wonder how we ever survived those days. I imagine we were both pretty lucky, because I know we were both pretty foolish. Underaged drinking, smoking pot, cutting classes, recreational unprotected sex, driving under the influence, lying to our parents...sheesh...teenagers really are all about testing the limits aren't they? I'm glad you and I made it unscathed.
And, WHEW! I am so glad I don't have teenaged daughters.
Oh, wait.
I totally do.
I. Am. So. Screwed.
I know I haven't written you lately and...well...I suppose the easy answer is that there's just been a lot going on. But, I hate neglecting you. And since there was 'stuff' on my mind, I thought I'd get it down and you could do that thing you do where you read my long-winded nonsensical crap and roll your eyes that cute way that you do and then send me back a note telling me to please stop sending you email or you're gonna get the cops involved.
I was cleaning this weekend and ran across a high school yearbook. It was the one from our senior year. I opened it up and looked around a little. Reminiscing about that football player I had a crush on (you know who he is, I don't have to write his name here), and clubs I was in. Working on the yearbook staff. Hanging out with my friends. And I saw your picture. And the note you wrote in my yearbook. I know I owe you email. I wanted to let you know that I do think about you from time to time.
You remember when we were young and wild? You and I would get into so much trouble. Best friends do that, I guess. And our parents never found out about it. Well, your parents didn't find out about it as much as they got a vibe and told you that I was a bad influence. Heh. As if.
Like that time, during the summer between our junior and senior years in high school, when Robin was having an affair with the married man that lived across the street from her. The one whose kids she would occasionally babysit. And they had that really cool swimming pool and the guy's wife was out of town and he had invited us over for a midnight swim. So, you and Robin and I all got our folks to let us spend the night at Pam's (whose folks were out of town) and then we snuck back over to her neighborhood in the middle of the night to go swimming. Well....you and I went swimming, anyway. And then on the way back to Pam's house at about 3AM, Robin's car ran out of gas. There we were with no car in the middle of nowhere in our goddam bathing suits at 3AM. Lucky for us that ambulance came by and picked us all up. Those guys dropping us off at the IHOP was a real stroke of luck! And, hey, we had Robin's car off that road by 6AM when her dad would have passed it on his way to work. So...you know...all was well.
I'll bet I missed curfew twenty times that summer. Sneaking in through the basement window most of the time. Except that one time when I tried to sneak in the front door and my @*&%! key broke off in the lock and I had to knock and wake my folks up to let me in. Boy, were they mad.
Or, hey, remember that time we went to that party way out in the sticks with those guys we met at the fair? I don't remember their names. Do you? Whatever. Anyway, we got so drunk that I couldn't even remember driving home. It was like I remembered getting in the car and the next thing I remember was taking the exit ramp off the highway near my folks house. What's that...like 10 miles? Gotta be. Geez, I could have run 40 people off the road in 10 miles. I'd have never known it.
What about that time when we went over to our bosses apartment and you drank so much, you started kissing my boyfriend and I decided to pay you back by taking the guy you had a serious crush on into the back bedroom and making a man out of him? Heh. Was that really us? We just had no sense whatsoever, did we?
We thought we were such big shit in those days.
Remember going up to the Hideaway Tavern? We were what 17? 18? The bartender would give us beer if we kissed him. Many's the night we came out of there pretty drunk and never spent a buck. And if you dressed like a slut and played a little pool, you'd make more than a few new friends, too. But I doubt either of us would know anything about that, huh? AH HA HA HA!!!
Seeing Heart in concert was kinda cool. But you were so high, I doubt you even remember it. Yeah, okay, so I'd smoked a little myself, but you were a mess. At least I wasn't falling down in the parking lot, hollering about how that was "the best fucking night of my life" and that they were "the best fucking band EVER". What a dweeb!
How many times did we cut French 101 when we were Freshmen at U of L? Yeah, at least once a week. But, we had fun. Didn't we? Way better to hang out at the sandwich shop drinking pitchers and playing video games. And, so what if our grades weren't all that. College is about more than classes. It's about having fun and living life, too, you know. We sure got that down, didn't we? LOL!
Sometimes I wonder how we ever survived those days. I imagine we were both pretty lucky, because I know we were both pretty foolish. Underaged drinking, smoking pot, cutting classes, recreational unprotected sex, driving under the influence, lying to our parents...sheesh...teenagers really are all about testing the limits aren't they? I'm glad you and I made it unscathed.
And, WHEW! I am so glad I don't have teenaged daughters.
Oh, wait.
I totally do.
I. Am. So. Screwed.
posted by SuperWife | 10:25 PM
3 Comments:
How funny! I spent Saturday with my best friend from high school, reading old letters, etc. I was such a goofy emotional, love sick girl!
Was?
Wonderful entry, baby. Hmmm... some of those stories I hadn't heard. You were a very bad girl... but I'm sure our girls won't follow in your footsteps. They are little angels. Sweet and innocent. They would never do stuff like that. Never never never. ::whistling cheerfully::
Oh, I've outgrown a great many of the vices I had in those days. And I hope that my girls are wise enough to avoid them altogether, or, if not, are as adept at keeping them from me as I was at keeping them from my mother. But, fair warning, I know what to look for...
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