20376080_1568770003143471_8800099321095170300_n.jpg

Hi.

I like to write about whatever comes to my mind. Whether that is visiting an abandoned house, or reading a good book, I like to talk. So, chat with me here about what you like! And welcome.

Did We Really Do That?

As a young teenager growing up in a VERY small town, my best friend Chrissy and I spent a lot of time doing typical teenager things:  giggling over boys, trying to look cool at ALL times, writing every detail of that oh!so!amazing!night! in our diaries and then reading them back to each other.

Don't be fooled people.  We were a couple of trouble-making boys. 

Giggling over the male species (and I use that word for a reason) usually meant we were talking about how douche-y they were, all the while pontificating with swear words that only seasoned war veterans used in the trenches.  Looking good at all times meant wearing our dads' over-sized sweaters and trying to find the best pair of brown bell-bottom corduroys from the discount clothing store.  Writing in our diaries...well, we really did do that.  Achingly detailed, were those diaries.  Throw in trying to find the most shockingly loud music, and the craziest hairstyles we could manage, and you essentially have your worst nightmare as a parent. 

Man, we were COOL.

Our favorite pasttime, just like any other teenager, was hanging out at the mall.  Even though we never had any money.  But it was fun to browse the record store.  They had one of those posters that described all the different ways to shit.  Know the one I am talking about?  That one kept us coming back again and again to bust our guts with such intelligent humour.  We also enjoyed slinking through the department store so we could stare at a boy who worked there.  He was dreamy.  He had a BEARD.  A BEARD!  That meant he was crazy unattainable and way too old for us, but we could lurk right?  And lurk we did.  And giggle.  We did a lot of that too.  Now that I think of it, we really only had one setting, the two of us: WARP SPEED GIGGLE.

Along with hanging out at the mall, Chrissy and I enjoyed expressing ourselves through acting.  What a lovely acitivity! What team players!  Again, don't be fooled.  Our form of 'acting' was another way of trying to shock the public.  We were not satisfied with just torturing our parents; innocent people also needed to feel VERY uncomfortable when we were around.  We acted like brats.  In essence, we were BRACT-ing. 

Here are some scenarios that we would play out:

One of us (or both) would act as if we were pregnant while browsing the baby section at the department store.  We made sure to waddle when we walked (um, we were 100 pounds soaking wet so this was just silly), and to yell obnoxiously loud how far along we were when the other asked.  Being a pregnant teenager was still a shocker 15 years ago.  We found this hilarious.  Of course we had to make sure the BEARDED one wasn't looking or he really would have thought we were mental.

One of us would pretend we were blind while the other lead.  Why did we find this funny? I don't know.  Obviously we were not thinking of people who actually suffer from blindness, no, we were self-absorbed teenagers who could not emote that kind of compassion, so realizing that this might actually be pretty mean did not compute in our meager brains.  Hence pretending to be blind.  Always given away by the fact that the 'blind' one would grab an article of clothing or a movie off a shelf and exclaim loudly that "this one looks cool!".  The other would realize the error of the 'blind' person's statement and would burst out laughing. We would run out of the store barely able to contain ourselves, feeling the store employee's glare searing through our dirty flannel shirts.

We also would pretend that we were British.  We would talk very loudly in horrible, HORRIBLE English accents, and we would dare each other to go and ask the store clerk for something.  The watcher would stand back, eyes wide in anticipation of the train wreck about to occur,  while the other would ask, "May aye saie thowrse paunce?".  Of course the watcher wouldn't even make it through the first word without braying like a donkey in laughter, therefore giving away the authenticity of the actor, who would also be doubled up in hearty guffaws.

Imitation is the highest form of flattery.  In the above case anyway.

Seriously though? Weren't we ANNOYING?  But I have to tell you, we always had SO MUCH FUN.

Kept us off those dangerous, quaint, little tree-lined streets. 

All I Want For Wednesday Is...

A Footnote for the Evening