Becky and I weren't really angsty. Oh ok, yes we were. We were a couple of punk asses in a small, backward, uber-conservative town in East TN. None of this is exaggerated. It's all true so beware.
I think I should start describing our clothes. Starting at the bottom.
8 eyelet Black Doc Marten combat boots were a must. Black and white striped tights cut off to be thigh highs hooked on to a garter belt hanging below some sort of skirt or shredded material that we called a skirt or shorts. I wore shredded jean shorts held together by staples. shirts were various bands like The Cramps or My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult, Bauhaus or Iron Maiden. Becky was known for the band t-shirts, I was known for electrical tape over my nipples.
The tape idea came to me after I got my second tattoo - it was on my back and I wanted to show it off so I slapped tape on my nips and called it a shirt! HAHAH!
Oh yeah - tattoos were not the rage then so I was deemed going to hell many times.
For hair I had to keep mine normal looking becuase I actually had a JOB. Becky never did so she got to do punk and all it's permutations of color and style. I shaved the underside of my head and put a Pebbles pony tail on top. When I let it down it looked normal enough to keep my job as a waitress at Pizza Hut. Then I dyed it jet black and my mom threatened to kick me out of the house. I had, and still do, have a way of just showing up changed in some way! If you ask permission chances are they'll say no so why ask...just do it.
So there is the look. We were 17 or 18. I will always remember a woman moving her kid out of our way when we walked by. LOL!
Now for some situations.
Roadtrips were our specialty. I don't know how we did it but we never had money. Ever. We shared a 6inch veggie and cheese at Subway and called it dinner. So how we paid for gas I'll never remember. Oh wait, Becky had a way of getting a credit card then just maxing it out so I think that's how. Speed limits meant nothing and we would drive my car at it's maximum speed ( a whole 95 mph) to Atlanta to go to the Masquarade.
One trip with our friend Venus, we had all just got tattooed that morning and set out for Atlanta to shop at Little Five Points. Through the blaring music we noticed a car full of guys next to us and of course they waved and we waved. I remember flashing for beer and it being past into my car through the windows. We laughed and sped off. A few exits down we stop at a gas station to pit stop and up pulls that car of guys. I didn't even notice until I felt a hand grab my butt, like the whole thing! I swerved and decked him in the head and out came Becky from the other aisle screaming like banshee. We just left but I think I left him with a nice shiner.
Another detail of that trip was when I was driving and the asphalt was torn up and making that rumble strip noise really loud....when it ended I realized that I was going over 70mph in SECOND GEAR! I can't believe that little car took our abuse in stride. Thus coining the phrase "In our world _______"
Becky moved. A lot. And who had to help her with all her crap? Me. She would borrow her dad's little S-10 truck. It was a manual transmission and since she didn't know how to drive a manual she got in it and took off down a busy Kingsport road. Bucking at every red light. We didn't believe in boxes I guess so we just piled all her junk in the back and as you drove ( and tried to take off in first gear) tupperware would fall out in the road or just fly out leaving a Hansel and Gretel trail behind us.
That picture kills me everytime...
That truck has other stories. We were with Dave Hollers, of the local band JAD ( Jeff, Allan, Dave), sweetest goofiest guy ever. He stole a 6ft blow up dinosaur from a corner car lot and rode with it in the back of this truck. I think he rode on it too. We happily paraded through the streets.
And we piled 10 people in the back of it looking for some spooky cave one night. Of course, all those people in the back started making out - just testing the waters of potential love affairs. No affairs began and no cave was found. We all just got a little love that night.
I had shoes that were clear and the soles were glow in the dark. Becky got red patented leather combat boots. Oh man, I almost forgot about my vintage Doc Martens with the soviet hammer and sickle on the toes! I still have them.
Being naked wasn't a problem either. I was driving down Volunteer Pkwy in Bristol with my boyfriend and a friend of his following in his car. I got some kind of wild hair and took off my clothes and pulled up next to them waving madly. We stopped at a stop light, I got out, ran around the car and got back in. They were dying laughing. I think I got back into my clothes while driving too....crazy.
A bunch of us would go swimming and trade bathing suits - guys would wear ours and we'd wear theirs. The boys looked much funnier than we did.
Bars were like a playground. Distracting bouncers, bribes, breaking in through the back door - everything. Our boyfriends were in metal bands so they were always playing in bars - we had to get in somehow! Getting drinks wasn't hard either. Getting caught and getting out of it was kinda fun too.
Becky got punched in the nose by some redneck girl and I was laughing too hard to help her.
I got super drunk and wore some nasty sombero off the wall for the night. Somehow it didn't come home with me.
There are many times we don't remember how we got home.
Being out all night and running the air conditioning ice cold to stay awake to drive home. Home is Becky's house NOT mine!
Somehow I stayed in school - I was a freshman in college by then.
She got student loans and never went to class.
Whew! What a ride! And I've left so much out...believe it or not.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
oh man....random topics
Geez, I've thought of 3 or 4 blog topics over the course of the last few weeks and now I can't remember any of them. Dang. Most of what I think of are just silly stuff but I have a couple of serious ones around here somewhere. I need one of those lapel voice recorders like Dr.s use to do their notes ( or the free one when you buy the As Seen On TV leather organizer purse! Milk, eggs, bread...insert cheesy "what a good buy" head shake)
Oh yeah. Daycare. Boo. Our current situation with Hank is that he's staying with Big Daddy G's mom. I kinda put this in the same category as doing business with family - DON'T EVER DO IT! Just like you'd never buy a car from family. Some things are off limits and especially with in laws.
I never doubt that Hank is being loved to death over there; actually that's part of the problem. He's gonna be spoiled beyond recovery! That's gonna happen anyway, as it should I guess, but maybe shorter intervals of time would be a little less worrisome. It's actually a huge story, I just don't want to write it all!
But Hank is only 5 months old and I'm already the a$$hole in the family. I've gotten this wonderful title by not compromising on my standards. So sue me. I've been an a$$hole many times in my life but I hate that this time there are delicate dynamics and emotions involved. AND I can't walk away never to return - I have to stay and live with decisions I've made ( gasp!) and face those involved. Somehow in recent years my cajones have shrunk...I'd like to get those back.
I've been at a friend's house today cooking and got to crush garlic cloves! You don't know what that means to me - I haven't gotten to do that in years! Big Daddy G despises garlic and can sniff even one molecule of it on my breath so cooking with it is so out of the question. Oh, but today I'm gonna be stanky with it and I hope he wakes up in the middle of the night with my breath aimed right at his head! HAHAHA There's actually a story for this - we sleep in a tiny full size bed so every so often we wake up to various smells. I've awoke with my nose buried in his arm pit. He's awoke to my morning breath mouth literally inches from his face - ewww! A dutch oven is a breeze in this bed. It's more like a little fart crock pot.
This week, I attended the funeral of a really good friend. The eulogy was phenomenal and so accurate. But it got me to thinking about writing my best friend's eulogy. I'd purge to paper all the fun/wackadoo things we used to do and how I appreciate her so much now. No joke, I couldn't make up some of the crazy stuff we would get into. I'll put them in a blog soon cuz they really are entertaining to think about and will explain a lot!
ok - out for now.
Oh yeah. Daycare. Boo. Our current situation with Hank is that he's staying with Big Daddy G's mom. I kinda put this in the same category as doing business with family - DON'T EVER DO IT! Just like you'd never buy a car from family. Some things are off limits and especially with in laws.
I never doubt that Hank is being loved to death over there; actually that's part of the problem. He's gonna be spoiled beyond recovery! That's gonna happen anyway, as it should I guess, but maybe shorter intervals of time would be a little less worrisome. It's actually a huge story, I just don't want to write it all!
But Hank is only 5 months old and I'm already the a$$hole in the family. I've gotten this wonderful title by not compromising on my standards. So sue me. I've been an a$$hole many times in my life but I hate that this time there are delicate dynamics and emotions involved. AND I can't walk away never to return - I have to stay and live with decisions I've made ( gasp!) and face those involved. Somehow in recent years my cajones have shrunk...I'd like to get those back.
I've been at a friend's house today cooking and got to crush garlic cloves! You don't know what that means to me - I haven't gotten to do that in years! Big Daddy G despises garlic and can sniff even one molecule of it on my breath so cooking with it is so out of the question. Oh, but today I'm gonna be stanky with it and I hope he wakes up in the middle of the night with my breath aimed right at his head! HAHAHA There's actually a story for this - we sleep in a tiny full size bed so every so often we wake up to various smells. I've awoke with my nose buried in his arm pit. He's awoke to my morning breath mouth literally inches from his face - ewww! A dutch oven is a breeze in this bed. It's more like a little fart crock pot.
This week, I attended the funeral of a really good friend. The eulogy was phenomenal and so accurate. But it got me to thinking about writing my best friend's eulogy. I'd purge to paper all the fun/wackadoo things we used to do and how I appreciate her so much now. No joke, I couldn't make up some of the crazy stuff we would get into. I'll put them in a blog soon cuz they really are entertaining to think about and will explain a lot!
ok - out for now.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Vamanos Vandettes!
Ahhh, school is back in session at Vandy and all the latest fashions are on parade. Butt uggly gladiator sandals that I wrote about in August - check. Skinny jeans, check. Huge purses, check. 80's earrings, check.
What is cracking me up as I watch this super special poplulation are the freshman boys. Nope - they aren't men just yet, they are boys. They shine in a crowd like the beacon of light atop the Luxor in Vegas. You can't miss them. Slouchy posture, Star Wars t-shirt, zits, Converse high tops with writing all over the border - basically a high schooler relocated to fashionista central. Oh yeah, they check out the fully vested Vandettes with the kind of awe normally reserved for, like, roman godesses or something.
But these boys won't be considered men until they are wearing Madras shorts with flip flops, a too long Ralph Lauren broad cloth shirt ( untucked, of course) and have participated in Greek rush. Then they can join their girl counterparts and wear a greek shirt announcing a formal event everyday.
Mostly I have contact with them while driving Vandy's perimeter and they are entitled enough to cut me off on their way to Smack for the latest glittery, buckle-y hobo bag. The sweetheart of a line from Fried Green Tomatoes comes to mind "I'm older and I have more insurance" as I envision accidently on purpose taking out their back bumper.
We have a huge amount of undergrads working in our lab this semester and I have to give many of them credit - they are mostly good kids. No, really. Many don't really live in the trust fund crowd. You know, that part of the student parking garage that houses more expensive cars than I could ever afford. School isn't all a fashion show for them - or is it that we are such a nerdy subject that we attract the ones that would actually want to work one day?
Except the one that used to work with me - she was genuinely perplexed to find out that I had to work THROUGH the summer. Oh, the horror! Luckily, she isn't around anymore to constantly remind me that, yes, I HAVE to work through the summers for the REST OF MY LIFE!
Even though Vandy seems like an oasis for the privledged it's really just like every other school - it just costs 5 times as much! You've still got the sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wasteoids, dweebies, dickheads. Thank god!
What is cracking me up as I watch this super special poplulation are the freshman boys. Nope - they aren't men just yet, they are boys. They shine in a crowd like the beacon of light atop the Luxor in Vegas. You can't miss them. Slouchy posture, Star Wars t-shirt, zits, Converse high tops with writing all over the border - basically a high schooler relocated to fashionista central. Oh yeah, they check out the fully vested Vandettes with the kind of awe normally reserved for, like, roman godesses or something.
But these boys won't be considered men until they are wearing Madras shorts with flip flops, a too long Ralph Lauren broad cloth shirt ( untucked, of course) and have participated in Greek rush. Then they can join their girl counterparts and wear a greek shirt announcing a formal event everyday.
Mostly I have contact with them while driving Vandy's perimeter and they are entitled enough to cut me off on their way to Smack for the latest glittery, buckle-y hobo bag. The sweetheart of a line from Fried Green Tomatoes comes to mind "I'm older and I have more insurance" as I envision accidently on purpose taking out their back bumper.
We have a huge amount of undergrads working in our lab this semester and I have to give many of them credit - they are mostly good kids. No, really. Many don't really live in the trust fund crowd. You know, that part of the student parking garage that houses more expensive cars than I could ever afford. School isn't all a fashion show for them - or is it that we are such a nerdy subject that we attract the ones that would actually want to work one day?
Except the one that used to work with me - she was genuinely perplexed to find out that I had to work THROUGH the summer. Oh, the horror! Luckily, she isn't around anymore to constantly remind me that, yes, I HAVE to work through the summers for the REST OF MY LIFE!
Even though Vandy seems like an oasis for the privledged it's really just like every other school - it just costs 5 times as much! You've still got the sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wasteoids, dweebies, dickheads. Thank god!
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