I just finished watching "Mean Girls". I'm a little late cause Michael called and we talked for almost an hour. Who does that? Allow me a brief tangent: there isn't anyone on this planet that gets me and that accepts me and that (for whatever incorrect reason) loves me as much as Michael. I know my family loves me, but I don't think they get me. Actually, I'm pretty sure no one gets me entirely but Michael's as close as it comes. He's more than a boyfriend or partner or husband or friend or lover. I don't know what he is, but I would be very forlorn if we no longer had random hour long conversations. I've never been so comfortable with someone in my entire life. Are you puking yet? Cause I'm feeling a bit queasy. I may randomly go outside and punch someone on Lonsdale to assert my overall manliness. I'm. Not. Gay.
Okay, back to "Mean Girls". Holy fuck. I hated high school something fierce and I hope to never re-live that whole fucking horrid scenario ever again. So, allow me to drunkenly blog about my adolescence cause I've got nothing better to do and I don't want to go to sleep like my last posting indicated because on a fundamental level sleep equals death or some damn thing. Rage, rage, against the dying of the light... and all that.
I recall being in Grade 1 and taking apart my watch and putting it back together, much to the dismay of my first grade teacher, Mrs. Kraft. I met Supermommy. I have known Supermommy for about 25 years. Ohmygod. I remember Mrs. Buckley playing CCR's "Looking Out My Backdoor" and thinking about it in the most innocent terms because I was only 8 or something. At some point a Commodore 64 was introduced into Mrs. Martin and Mrs. Wang's split class. I was in Grade 3 but I was reading Grade 4 books. I was bullied on more than one occasion: in one instance I lost a loose tooth; in another I was haphazardly beaten up and ended up cowering under a desk, half-crying. I wrote a nasty note to Tom Willie and had to write lines and remit them to the principal. In Grade 6 my teacher was Mr. Strauss and he would say to us, "If I told you you had a nice body would you hold it against me?" and would hug his students. I don't think he was a sexual pervert, but I do think he was mildly retarded. I remember telling my parents about the hugging when I was in my twenties and my dad hit the roof. I guess I just thought it was normal (why would adults want to do anything weird or unkind to kids?), but had I told my parents what the deal was when it was actually happening I'm pretty sure my dad would've knocked Mr. Strauss unconscious, which was fine, because he was a racist, sexist son of a bitch anyways. I saw him a few years ago and I remembered how ex-students used to come in to see him when they went on to high school and I thought that was so cool. When I saw Mr. Strauss at Minter Gardens with Michael I ignored him (he didn't see me). He wasn't cool: he was a narrow-minded bigot that was likely cheating on his wife. But he did encourage my creative writing abilities, so... there's that.
Let's see. Grade 8. High school. I wish I had a scanner so I could upload some of the heinous photos of me at that time. A boy asked me out in French Class in Grade 9 and I thought that he was teasing me, becuse I couldn't understand why anyone would want to date me. I fought back against a couple of girls that were chapping my ass. I was caught badmouthing another girl in our class and she marched resolutely into my Western Civilization class and backhanded me (I think Supermommy was there). I was totally stunned (I think everyone was). My parents were utterly perplexed and were like, "Uh... do you want to press charges?". No. I had badmouthed this girl and I deserved what I got. Don't badmouth people: it's pathetic and lame and I am sorry for it, to this day.
Nothing else of any great import happened in high school except that I developed an eating disorder (the remnants of which are still with me). I used to chew the food that I liked to eat (mainly Costco muffins) and then spit it out for my dog to eat. Yeah, I'm sure that every fourteen year old girl does that. I stole my parents car and got busted by my parents. I threatened to commit suicide because I was too fat. I graduated with honours. I was a virgin that didn't drink or do drugs (I wasn't corrupted until I was 18).
Um, so I pretty much hated my life in high school. The ironic thing was that I lost a lot of weight and started hanging out with a fast crowd (and I mean fast) when I graduated. One of the gentlemen - let's call him Bubba - told me that he assumed I had been on the cheer leading squad when I was in high school given the change in my physical appearance. And, given the crowd that I was running with, I remember Supermommy (though definitely not a super mom at the time) telling me that she was pretty sure that I had been caught up in the shit because of the crowd I was in with. I wasn't. I was such a fucking newbie. The only drug I've ever done is pot, and I'm really happy about that.
At work I'm quite popular. I seem to have attained the status that I likely always hankered for in high school, but I'm the same goddamn person. It's a bit of a fucking kicker, when you get down to it.
That's why, when I see the person that's out there, that's doing something different, I really try to appreciate what it is that they're trying to do. It's a fucking boring existence if we all look and act the same. I'm fundamentally the same as I was ten years ago, but people like me more now because I'm skinny (even though I weigh myself once a day, sometimes twice) and more ribald. Weird, eh?
This is where you shower me with compliments so I feel worthy enough to eat solid meal at breakfast tomorrow. THANK YOU MAINSTREAM MEDIA: this shit did not come from my parents.
Ah fuck, look at me whinging. Best life ever, babes. I've a great group of friends, the gents seem inclined to want to see me naked (even though I weight 124lbs today), what else could one want?
Okay, back to "Mean Girls". Holy fuck. I hated high school something fierce and I hope to never re-live that whole fucking horrid scenario ever again. So, allow me to drunkenly blog about my adolescence cause I've got nothing better to do and I don't want to go to sleep like my last posting indicated because on a fundamental level sleep equals death or some damn thing. Rage, rage, against the dying of the light... and all that.
I recall being in Grade 1 and taking apart my watch and putting it back together, much to the dismay of my first grade teacher, Mrs. Kraft. I met Supermommy. I have known Supermommy for about 25 years. Ohmygod. I remember Mrs. Buckley playing CCR's "Looking Out My Backdoor" and thinking about it in the most innocent terms because I was only 8 or something. At some point a Commodore 64 was introduced into Mrs. Martin and Mrs. Wang's split class. I was in Grade 3 but I was reading Grade 4 books. I was bullied on more than one occasion: in one instance I lost a loose tooth; in another I was haphazardly beaten up and ended up cowering under a desk, half-crying. I wrote a nasty note to Tom Willie and had to write lines and remit them to the principal. In Grade 6 my teacher was Mr. Strauss and he would say to us, "If I told you you had a nice body would you hold it against me?" and would hug his students. I don't think he was a sexual pervert, but I do think he was mildly retarded. I remember telling my parents about the hugging when I was in my twenties and my dad hit the roof. I guess I just thought it was normal (why would adults want to do anything weird or unkind to kids?), but had I told my parents what the deal was when it was actually happening I'm pretty sure my dad would've knocked Mr. Strauss unconscious, which was fine, because he was a racist, sexist son of a bitch anyways. I saw him a few years ago and I remembered how ex-students used to come in to see him when they went on to high school and I thought that was so cool. When I saw Mr. Strauss at Minter Gardens with Michael I ignored him (he didn't see me). He wasn't cool: he was a narrow-minded bigot that was likely cheating on his wife. But he did encourage my creative writing abilities, so... there's that.
Let's see. Grade 8. High school. I wish I had a scanner so I could upload some of the heinous photos of me at that time. A boy asked me out in French Class in Grade 9 and I thought that he was teasing me, becuse I couldn't understand why anyone would want to date me. I fought back against a couple of girls that were chapping my ass. I was caught badmouthing another girl in our class and she marched resolutely into my Western Civilization class and backhanded me (I think Supermommy was there). I was totally stunned (I think everyone was). My parents were utterly perplexed and were like, "Uh... do you want to press charges?". No. I had badmouthed this girl and I deserved what I got. Don't badmouth people: it's pathetic and lame and I am sorry for it, to this day.
Nothing else of any great import happened in high school except that I developed an eating disorder (the remnants of which are still with me). I used to chew the food that I liked to eat (mainly Costco muffins) and then spit it out for my dog to eat. Yeah, I'm sure that every fourteen year old girl does that. I stole my parents car and got busted by my parents. I threatened to commit suicide because I was too fat. I graduated with honours. I was a virgin that didn't drink or do drugs (I wasn't corrupted until I was 18).
Um, so I pretty much hated my life in high school. The ironic thing was that I lost a lot of weight and started hanging out with a fast crowd (and I mean fast) when I graduated. One of the gentlemen - let's call him Bubba - told me that he assumed I had been on the cheer leading squad when I was in high school given the change in my physical appearance. And, given the crowd that I was running with, I remember Supermommy (though definitely not a super mom at the time) telling me that she was pretty sure that I had been caught up in the shit because of the crowd I was in with. I wasn't. I was such a fucking newbie. The only drug I've ever done is pot, and I'm really happy about that.
At work I'm quite popular. I seem to have attained the status that I likely always hankered for in high school, but I'm the same goddamn person. It's a bit of a fucking kicker, when you get down to it.
That's why, when I see the person that's out there, that's doing something different, I really try to appreciate what it is that they're trying to do. It's a fucking boring existence if we all look and act the same. I'm fundamentally the same as I was ten years ago, but people like me more now because I'm skinny (even though I weigh myself once a day, sometimes twice) and more ribald. Weird, eh?
This is where you shower me with compliments so I feel worthy enough to eat solid meal at breakfast tomorrow. THANK YOU MAINSTREAM MEDIA: this shit did not come from my parents.
Ah fuck, look at me whinging. Best life ever, babes. I've a great group of friends, the gents seem inclined to want to see me naked (even though I weight 124lbs today), what else could one want?
2 comments:
Do people like you now because you are skinny, or do you like yourself more because you are skinny, hence you are more likeable?
I've always liked you, and would if you weighed 200 lbs.
misses.
Mmm... the $64,000 question! After much contemplation I do not think I have become more likable over the years. In fact, I'm quite sure I was never likable to begin with!
See you soon (grin)!
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