Saturday, March 29, 2008
"I DARE you."
"To lick it?"
"I double DOG dare you."
"What are we, second graders?"
"I triple DOG dare you."
"HA! You think THAT'S going to the extreme, but there is one more you have forgotten..."
"I FIREBALL dare you."
Pondering silently, I looked to my left, then to my right. If I was going to lick it, I wanted to be sure no one would see. No one but the person across from me, that is. It would be a good conversation starter for the rest of the day. "Hey! Betcha won't guess what I licked today!" I like to be the conversation starter in a group, and this would DEFINITELY suffice. But there's no way I would give in that easily...then again, it's not like I could turn down the FIREBALL dare. I had a reputation on the line! Of course, that was back in elementary school...I am 17 years old now...was there a more mature way to handle this?
"I'll lick it if you lick it."
He smiled, stuck his tongue out, and LICKED IT. That was quick. Now it was my turn. Would I chicken out? Would I squeal and vomit? Would I regret it once I did it? With all these thoughts darting back and forth through the walls of my brain like a pinball machine (hope everyone enjoys the imagery there), I decided to recite a mantra.
"A bad ass would lick it...a bad ass would lick it...a bad ass would lick it..."
Okay, not exactly a decent mantra. But I'm not really the "mantra type of gal."
"YOU LICKED IT."
Shock factor. JUST what I wanted.
"Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear..."
(yeah right. as if ANYONE in high school speaks like that. sorry...)
"DUDE WHAT YOU BE LICKIN?"
"She just licked the sheep's heart."
"THE ONE WE CUTTIN UP?"
Ahhhh...good ol' Disection Day. I will miss these days when I have entered the real world, where people don't get to put on rubber gloves and poke at animal organs once a month with a couple of their friends. (I always steal an extra pair of rubber gloves when we disect. You never know when you need a pair of form-fitting rubber gloves...) There is always that ONE kid who gets sick and sticks his head out the window the entire hour of class (which would make me feel self-concious because our class windows are very high up and so when that one kid sticks his head out the window, he is also sticking his ass into the air towards the rest of us. but who's ever going to tell him that?). That ONE kid who grabs the heart...liver...kidney...whatever organ is the special of the day, and somehow always manages to find a small flap that resembles a mouth and makes it talk. (always saying the same three things: 1. KISS ME AND I'LL TURN INTO A HUMAN. 2. FEED ME, SEYMOUR! 3. LUKE...I AM YOUR FATHER.") That ONE kid who constantly says throughtout the whole disection, "Wouldn't it be hilarious if I just chucked this thing right at the teach? Like, how HILARIOUS would that be? Pretty effin' hilarious! Dare me to do it? Come on, man, someone dare me to chuck this thing RIGHT in the teacher's face, cause that would be HILARIOUS." (okay, so it would be pretty hilarious, but this is the 50th dissection dude, and you've never chucked it at the teach.)
"MAYNNEE THAT'S STRAIGHT-UP JANKY!"
Janky indeed. But also BAD ASS. Sad to say that after belting out ballads with the word "heart" in them (which proved to be harder than we expected...so we just sang the Titanic song over and over again...and you know EXACTLY what song I'm talking about AND all the lyrics), nothing compared to the licking of the heart. People reacted in very different ways...
"Was it inside the sheep?"
Yes. We brought a live sheep into 4th period and then I stuck my head inside of it's body, found the heart with merely one of my five senses, licked it, pulled my head out, and my teacher gave me an A for effort.
"What did it taste like?!"
"Yes. But did you bite it?"
As if licking it is sooooooo normal. They were just jealous they didn't think of licking the cold, dead heart covered in chemicals sitting on their lab table.
"One time I ate a chicken leg."
Yes. That would be a drumstick.
"No boy is ever going to want to kiss you if they know your tongue has been on a sheep's moldy heart."
First of all, Susie SLUT, no boy is ever going to want to kiss YOU once I tell them just how many organs YOUR tongue has been on. Second of all, hearts don't MOLD.
...but I knew what they all were really thinking deep down inside..."WHAT. A. BAD ASS."
Saturday, March 22, 2008
"Where do babies come from?"
It sounds so simple, yet there are so many ways to answer. You simply cannot tell a Kindergartner that a boy puts his uh-uh in a girls uh-uh and they do a little uh-uh. You just can't do that.
Of course, my case is different. I lived in a house where there was no such thing as personal and awkward questions. My mom believed that there was nothing to hide about the world. And in effect, I, too, decided that there was nothing to hide...not even from my friends.
"Where are we going, Mrs. Croft?"
"I am taking you and Lucy to play mini-golf!"
"Mommy, can Natasha come over to my house to play after we play mini-golf?"
"And can we watch a movie?"
"Sure! Why don't you ask Natasha what movie we should watch?"
"Okay! Natasha, what do you want to watch? We have Aladdin, Lion King, The Brave Little Toaster..."
"Can we watch To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything?"
"It's my favorite movie EVER. IT's about these three guys who dress up like girls."
"Oh! Like when we play dress-up?"
"No, they dress up like girls because they're gay. You see, gay people are people who don't like girls. They are guys that like other guys. They want to marry guys and kiss them. Some people are just born gay."
"Yes. My mommy told me all about them. There is even a girl version of gay people. They are called lesbians."
"Yes. But they can't have babies."
"Yes. You see, two private parts in the front that are the same cannot make babies."
"Mommy, is that true?"
"Yes. Yes. It is true."
Can we just stop and take a moment to give this mother a hand? I mean, she lets her daughter's friend come over, she pays for her to play mini-golf, she lets HER choose the movie to watch, and how do I repay her? I blab on and on about things that she had probably been waiting to tell her daughter when she was older...much older...and had probably spent a lot of time on thinking of ways to explain. And instead of making up some lie on the spot to "protect" her child from "the real world", she was honest. Good for her! But hey, I give the cold, hard facts. No beating around the bush with me. No, siree. She should really have thanked me for it. She didn't even mention it to my mother, not until 4 years later, anyway, when her and Mother were discussing on how to explain to us about sex, and Mrs. Croft goes, "Why don't I just get Natasha to explain?!" Of course my mother had no idea what she meant...but either way, I would have done a hell of a job. You know that really old wrinkly woman on T.V. who answers sex questions? Yeah. That's going to be me when I'm 90. Not only still kickin', but still gettin' some. Ohhhh yeaahhhh.
I just don't think parents should fret about ways to tell their kids the nitty gritty about life. In fact, they may not even HAVE to. Just like that one kid lets the cat out of the bag about Santa Claus, there's always that one kid who somehow knows everything there is to know about...you know. I was definitely that kid in elementary school, but now? Sad to say I have lost my mojo. Now I'm the Clueless Clara with all the questions and hey, I'm not afraid to ask them! I've learned quite a few things throughout my high school career. Hey kids! Here's a list to take home to the fam!
Teenage Lingo for Dummies
Learned this Junior Year. Art Class. Described to me as "where point A and point B meet." Great word, awkward definition.
2. The Rusty Trumpet
Learned this two nights ago. Asked 6 different people before I got an answer. Kind of confusing, but I know I heard the words "doo-doo" and "tongue" used in describing it. Who thinks up this stuff? I mean, really?
3. "Are you clean?"
Upper-classmen think they can ask freshmen girls anything they want. This is just one of many awkward questions I have been cornered with.
4. V-Card (no. it is not Visa)
Sophomore year. Soccer practice. Of all the senior girls, only one paraded around the field doing the V-Card dance. "I got my V-Card, what? I got my V-Card, YEA!"
I admit this is just me being extremely naive. Sophomore year, a freshmen was telling me about a boy she was "talking to" and said they had "hooked-up." Me, being the inexperienced one in the "hooking-up" department, asked, "Oh? So you two, what, went to the movies?" She laughed, thinking I was joking, and continued with her story. That could have been my chance to let it drop and save myself the humiliation. But no, I just love askin' questions! So I asked again, "So wait...did you two...kiss?" God I embarrass myself. She kindly explained to me what "hooking-up" was, and I kindly sat there staring with my mouth open. Man how things change.
Well, that's all the lingo you get for today! Of course, a lot of you reading this probably already know what these terms are, which only embarrasses me more. But hey, I know now, don't I? (If there is any other vocabulary not mentioned here, you are welcome to call, e-mail, or fax me the terms, definitions, and origin of the word any time Sunday through Saturday. Thank you and have a nice day.)
Thursday, March 20, 2008
"It makes you look older."
(Thank you? You know those certain statements people make about you where you don't know if it's a compliment or just a mere observation? For instance: "You got a haircut!" Thank you? Man I hate those.)
"It makes your face look fatter."
(This is not one of those statements. This is just rude.)
"Look at those cute little chipmunk cheeks!"
(As if using the adjectives "cute" and "little" make the term "chipmunk cheeks" any less insulting.)
"You look like a model."
(Hey girls! Forget those rumors you've heard about weighing 100 pounds and being 6 feet tall! All you have to do is press a hot iron to your hair and BAM! Cover of Vogue, here I come!)
"Your hair isn't curly anymore!"
(No shit, Sherlock.)
"Did you do something different to your hair?"
(No. It's just really greasy.)
After straightening my hair for a good number of weeks, I could feel a few family members start to tense up about this new change. Was I rebelling? Would I start smoking the reefer? What would come next? Sex? Candy?
"Hey Natasha! So I was thinking..."
"I had an idea for this weekend!"
"Movies? Bowling? Ice skating?"
"I was thinking...this weekend. You. Me. Just a thought..."
"Roller skating? Ping Pong? B-ball?"
"We could try you going curly again. Yeah, yeah? What do you think? Great idea, or WHAT?"
"That's not really an event."
"Just a thought. Just you know, sleep on it some, and let me know what you think. You don't have to give me an answer now."
"Righttttt.....you know that would just involve me taking a shower? It's not really a father-daughter activity..."
"Yeah, but after you wash your hair, I thought...just a thought...you could not straighten it. Yeah, yeah? Just goin' out on a limb here. Sleep on it. Get back to me whenever. No biggie. Just a thought."
So I decided to go curly for awhile. Just pleasin' the folks, you know? Of course, after wearing it straight for so long, some people had forgotten I had curly hair.
"You look younger."
(You should see me with pigtails and a diaper!)
"Your face looks thinner."
(It's the botox.)
"Look at those cute, little chipmunk cheeks!"
(I get this one no matter how I wear my hair.)
"Your hair isn't straight anymore!"
(What? This is the straightest it's ever been! That one will confuse the hell out of them.)
"Did you do something different to your hair?"
"Do you pick your 'fro?"
"Are you Jewish?"
"Can I boing your curls?"
Back to straight I went. I just couldn't handle people asking me if they could boing me. As if I was some kind of slinky. I considered going bald, but what would people say about my cheeks then?
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
"I can't wait till I can drive."
"Dude, yeah right! Car pool is the shit! You don't have to pay for gas, if you get in a wreck it's not your fault, and whoever's dad is driving is never gonna suspect we have all that pot in our backpacks. I don't ever want my own car."
"Yeah. Uh-huh. Sure."
Sophomore year. The year we all get our permits. We show everyone our permit picture, saying, "It's SOOOO bad! I look AWWWFULLL!" just so everyone else will say, "No! You look GREAT! You're SOOOO photogenic!" We think it's so cool that we can drive now, when really we look younger than ever driving next to our mommies and daddies, who constantly gasp and violently grip the dashboard when we make a turn. As if they weren't suspecting it. Even when we're in the turn lane and there's the green arrow glaring at us in the face.
"Okay, honey. You have your permit now, I think we should go driving, don't you?"
"YES! WOO HOO! HELL YEAH!"
"Okay, now just go where I tell you to. Pull out of the driveway and take a right."
"OH YEAH! I GOT THIS MO' FO'!"
"Now take a left out of our cul de sac."
"THIS IS SO EXILARATING! WAIT TIL I GET ON THE ROAD AND SHOW IT WHO'S BOSS!"
"Now take a left."
"Mom...it's a right to get out of the neighborhood."
"I thought today we'd just make some loop-de-loops around our streets."
"You know, up and down the hills. The BIG hills. Isn't that exciting?!"
"No, that's lame."
"Not if we go at 30 miles per hour!"
"Where are you going? We haven't gone up the BIG HILL yet!"
Junior year. The year we all get our licenses. The year we're ready to roll with the big boys. The year we can blast the music and wear our stunna shades. The year we are forced to take responsibility for the reckless things we do to our cars.
"Dad? Hey. It's Natasha. I'm safe."
"I'm safe, and everyone here is safe. We are all very safe."
"So, I need to tell you something. But remember: we're all safe."
"What is it."
When parents get angry, there is no such thing as questions. They all just sound like short, concise sentences. Direct and to the point. But we can't be fooled. We know they're really questions.
"You know how I went to get coffee this morning with some friends?"
"I was pulling out of the parking garage..."
"What were you doing in a parking garage."
"That was the only parking there, and there was this column..."
"What did you do. Natasha."
"I hit the column and there is a dent. In the car. There is a dent in the car and we're all safe but the column was huge and you know how our car is kind of huge and there just wasn't enough room and I thought I could make it but I didn't see how close that side was to the column and it scraped against it and somehow put a dent a huge dent in the car and I'm really, really, really sorry and I'll pay for it and everything so really you don't have to worry about it and we are all very safe."
"Come home right now."
Of course there was yelling. And screaming. And staring. At the dent and at me. (Cold, hard stare at me, curious, thoughtful stare at the dent.) It's all a blur to me now. All I remember are a few facts about the dent that were said in a period of about 10 minutes:
"Natasha, this is going to cost us TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS!"
"I'm so sorry! It was an accident! I'm really sorry!"
"I don't have the money to waste on fixing a dent. This is going to cost us at least ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS!"
"I'm always so careful! I thought I could make it! I'll pay for it, I promise!"
"Natasha! You can't pay for this dent! This is going to cost us SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS!"
"I have the money! I can pay for it! I have it in the bank!"
"You can't spend the money you have saved in the bank! That's going to be FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS!"
Yeah. I never actually found out the real price it would be to fix the dent. But I didn't have to pay for it. Although I would have much preferred paying as my punishment than the horror that was to come...
"Yeah! I burned it last night so we could blast it on our way to school!"
"Woo-hoo! Put it in!"
Low and behold, the most massive, most silver, most evil piece of duck tape I had ever seen was stretched across not only the CD slot, but the seek buttons, volume knobs, and YES, even the power button.
"Well that sucks."
"What should we do now?"
"We could sing?"
"I only know the words to one song."
Did I mention it takes me and my sister 30 minutes to drive to school? And that my car radio was duck-taped for the entire month of February? I never want to hear Judy Garland's "I've Got Rhythm" again.
Some people don't need to worry about wrecking their parent's car. Some people have their own cars. To drive in. To wreck in. And to get it on in.
"There's a condom in the back seat."
"Yeah. It's on the floor."
"No, just in the package."
"Oh, good. But still! What is a condom doing back there?!"
"I don't know, it's your car."
"Throw it out!"
"It's not littering if you throw it into someone's car as they drive by."
"I'm not going to smack someone in the face with a condom while they are driving!"
"Wait till we're at a red light."
"Because what if the light stays red a really long time and they yell at me and throw it back at me?"
"They're not going to throw the condom back at you. That's just silly."
"Well I think it's silly to throw condoms at people!"
"You're the one who won't just throw it out the window!"
"Littering is against the law!"
"So are minors in possession of condoms!"
"You just made that up!"
"No I didn't! You have to be 21 to buy a condom!"
"No you don't!"
"Yeah-huh! Why do you think I've never bought a condom before?"
"Because you're a girl."
"Because you aren't having sex."
"Then why would you buy a condom?"
"Just throw it out the window, okay?"
"Fine...OH MY GOD I JUST HIT THAT MAN WITH IT! DRIVE! DRIVE!"
Things were much less complicated when we carpooled.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Although I never actually have the balls...(what would the equivalent be to that expression for girls?)...I never actually have the "breasts" to call up a boy I like and ask him if he wants to hang out. But I do have the "breasts" to tell my best friend to call up his best friend and ask them if they want to hang out with us. Is that even more obvious? (I also have the "breasts" to chime in during the convo to give Vanessa tips on what to say.)
"Where are we? Well..."
"Say somewhere cool. Vanessa! Tell them we're somewhere COOL."
"Uhhh...we are at theeeeeee.....tire store."
"You guys are at the tire store?"
"Yep, we're right here, just sittin' and lookin' at tires. Yeppity yep yep yep...."
As if speaking retarded gibberish after saying something retarded suffices.
"Tire store, tire store, tire store..."
As if repeating the retarded thing you just said over and over again makes it any LESS retarded.
"Vanessa. I think where we are NOW is even cooler than the "cool" place you just said we were."
That's a lie. We were in our school parking lot. On a Saturday night. We're at school 5 days a week, we complain the entire time that we can't wait for the weekend, and then when the weekend finally arrives, what do we do? We go right back to the place we go to learn algebra. It might be the most loserish thing I've ever done. But still, the TIRE STORE? Where did that even COME from?
"You're getting ice cream? You'll call back? Okay, bye!"
"Ice cream? That is SO lame!"
"I really don't think we have the power to say that is lame. According to them, we're at the tire store."
"But really we're at school."
"Exactly my point."
"But did you hear that, Natasha? They're going to call us back!"
"I feel awkward."
"It's just too obvious."
"It's not OBVIOUS. You're just being paranoid."
Two hours later.
"So you think they forgot?"
"God, this is SO lame."
"I think they just forgot. Should I call them?"
"NO! DO NOT CALL THEM!"
"Why? I'm calling."
"That is desperate! And LAME! And obvious."
"Hello, is this Jack? You're still with Elliot, right? Awesome. Did you guys still want to hang out?"
"I can't believe you called them again!"
"Where are we?"
"Do NOT say the tire store."
"Walgreens. Sitting outside of Walgreens."
"Just eating chocolate here at Walgreens."
"God, Vanessa. This is embarrassing. Please tell them I'm not with you. It's getting to be obvious."
"But I'm alone. Yeah, Natasha left about an hour ago."
"So I've been eating chocolate."
"Eating chocolate by yourself for an hour?
"But she's coming back to get me."
"Great. Now they think I ditched you at Walgreens for an hour with just enough money to buy 10 Hershey's bars."
"So you DO want to hang out?"
Is it even worth it now? After all that humility? Does anyone else besides myself understand how awkward that would be? They didn't even call us back. They think we eat chocolate and stare at tires on our Saturday nights. Like, that's what we do. Eat chocolate and stare at tires. It's just embarrassing. And it would be embarrassing for them to hang out with two people who did that. And it would be embarrassing for us to hang out with two people who would hang out with two people who eat chocolate and stare at tires on a Saturday night. And they don't even know we were at school for an hour arguing about what to say when we called them. And obviously we didn't even think of anything good because according to them we eat chocolate and stare at tires on Saturday night.
"Yeah, you can call us back."
"They're not calling us back in an hour"
"Don't be so negative!"
"Maybe you two could just talk on the phone!"
"Or you could ask if he wants to do something tomorrow!"
"Or we could call him back right now and tell them we'll meet them instead of them meeting us!"
Perfect! NOT. Lame.
Why must we all be so smooth all the time? So stealth? So discrete? So nonchalant? Why can't I just call up the guy I like and ask if he wants to hang out? Why do I have to be the one who's hard to get? Why can't I be the one who whistles and winks? Who raises an eyebrow or screams, "HEY GOOD LOOKIN'!" out the car window? Why can't I be the one who grabs some guy's ass as I'm walking by? Why can't I be the one who's obvious?
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Seriously? Is someone really telling me this? As if I'd be excited? Hellloooooo....I AM a junior. What do I care if some guy found out you're easy? Some guy who can't get a girl his OWN age? Some guy who not only had to wait ONE year, but TWO YEARS to find a girl to giggle at his jokes? I know better. Uhhhh...freshmen.
"He's SO smart. Like, it's weird being around someone so wise and mature. He's almost a LEGAL ADULT."
Seriously? A legal adult? The only thing he'll be able to do is vote. AWESOME. And mature? Please. I can't even count the number of times I've seen your "wise junior" yell "TEABAG!" and put some other "wise junior's" head in his crotch. Seriously? Are you really telling me this?
"And he's SO funny. He says the FUNNIEST things EVER."
Seriously? The funniest things EVER? Like the time he asked what shade of yellow Asian people's asses were? Seriously? You died laughing at that? Seriously?
"And he's SO cute. I don't even notice other guys now, not even other JUNIOR guys. It's his hair...or maybe his lips...or maybe his body...he has such a great body...but that's just because he's a JUNIOR, and JUNIOR guys work out at the gym, like all the time. It's a JUNIOR thing."
Seriously? Have you ever actually seen him up close? His hair...you mean the hair the same color as the shit that comes out of my baby brother's ass after he eats mashed carrots? His lips...you mean the lips that abnormally protrude from his mouth since he has a set of neon green braces underneath? His body...his BODY...does it not bother you that when he comes in for a kiss all you can see is the top of his head? Does it not bother you that you may suffer from scoliosis a few years down the road because you had to bend down to look him in the eye? Unless you go for the alternative and pick him up. He does only weigh about 90 pounds. HEY! Speaking of 90 pounds, I weighed that much in 6th grade! I mean...seriously?
"And he's SO good at sports. I mean, he doesn't play NOW...he never played any high school sports, but I KNOW he played in middle school. And he was REALLY good in middle school."
Seriously? Shooting rubber bands and masturbating do NOT qualify as sports. Like...are you an idiot? Seriously?
"And I know he really, REALLY likes me because I'm the first girl he's kissed since middle school."
"Yeah, and I KNOW he's the one, because he wants to have SEX with me, and people only have sex when they're in LOVE."
"You can't be serious."
"I told him I loved him, and I know I made him really nervous by confessing my love for him FIRST because he started laughing, which just PROVES to me that he loves me BACK."
Why is it that the biggest losers can become the coolest guys to some girls just because their parents decided to get their freak on before some other guy's parents did? Like...seriously? Is that all it takes? OKAY MARRIED COUPLES, IF YOU WANT YOUR UNBORN SON TO GET LAID BEFORE HE GRADUATES, HAVE SEX NOW. No...seriously.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
"You know Christey Buchanan?"
"You know Carl Vines?"
"Well. They hooked up."
"Doesn't Carl have a girlfriend?"
"They broke up."
"She said it was "mutual." "
"But really he dumped her."
"She cheated on him."
"With Chris Jones."
"But doesn't Christey have a boyfriend?"
"Five months so far."
"But she cheated on him."
"With Carl Vines."
"At Lily's party."
"And they did it."
"Apparently it's the way to go."
"But he was drunk."
"And he puked on her."
"All over her back."
"And they KEPT GOING."
Personally, I like to catch up on my gossip 4th period. Really just because I sit by people who know the shit to know. And I like to know that shit.
"Remember that girl from the party Friday night?"
"The one with the schnoz."
"Did you see her grinding on Elliot?"
"The one with the curls."
"It was only one dance."
"Not even a good song."
"Number six on the charts."
"Well. When they were done, he turns to him and says, "You're really hard."
"And he just stands there."
"He was drunk."
"For the first time."
"And then she says, "I LIKE IT."
"Which she's not even good at."
"Not as good as Tina Stabin."
"That girl can wink."
"Yeah, but she got butt implants."
"Cost 2 grand."
"Her aunt payed for it."
"Cause her mom's in jail."
"Well. Did you see the guy Leslie was dancing with before?"
"The one with his hand on her crotch?"
"What about him?"
"Just that he had his hand on her crotch."
"For three straight songs."
We're addicted. We need gossip like we need underwear. ALWAYS. (well, in most cases) There are those who create it, those who spread it, and those who just soak it all in. But we all feed off it. The real question is: are the ones who spread it just as guilty as the ones who create it? Are the ones who listen at a fault? Will we ever learn to tune out the gossip? Is doggy style really the way to go? We may never know. (most of us, anyway)