Because I didn’t embarrass myself enough the first time…
- I once stayed awake for 49 hours straight, just to see if I could. I was shooting for 48, a good round number, and I topped that by a full hour to seal the record. To cover my tracks with my parents, I used two consecutive sleepovers as a cover up. My over-tired mommy brain wants to slap my stupid 14-year-old self across the face.
- People who know me now but didn’t know me when I was a stupid teenager would probably be shocked to hear that I have several ear piercings. Eight, to be exact. Two on the right side and six on the left, and I never, ever, wear earrings anymore. One of the piercings on the left side was of the homemade variety. While on the phone one evening, I took a safety pin I found on my disgusting carpet floor (and, boy, was it disgusting) and did it myself. I’m lucky I didn’t get streptococcus or sepsis or hepatitis or something.
- When I was in grade 7, a man-boy had a crush on me. I say “man-boy” because this kid was over six feet, when most of the other boys in my class still wet the bed. He had acne covering his face when most of the other boys’ voices still hadn’t changed. He had flaming red hair when most of the other boys…didn’t. Needless to say, he didn’t fit in. I don’t remember his name but we’ll call him Red. Anyway, this crush was well known and deeply embarrassing, for Red and me, and the more extroverted and popular kids in class would tease us about it all the time. One day in French class, this one guy whose name I remember but won’t repeat (let’s just call him Buffoon) started in on me – do you like Red? why not? why not? why not? – and I refused to answer because I didn’t want to embarrass Red anymore than he already was. But The Buffoon wouldn’t give up. And then more kids started, laughing and questioning. I’m already super shy, so this was killing me. I finally caved and yelled, YELLED, all of the reasons why I didn’t like Red. These reasons were cruel and rude to speak out loud, but I was taken to the edge by The Buffoon and I lost control of what was spewing out of my mouth. I could never look at Red again and I’m sure he didn’t like me after that day. It was beyond traumatizing for both of us.
- My cousin and I had this jar when we were little. It was kept at his house, in his laundry room, and it was our little science experiment. In it, we would pour a new liquid every time I visited. There was several types of detergent, toilet cleaner, hair spray, paint, Coca Cola, spit. Anything we could get our hands on. We also added a few solids to the mixture – marbles, dead bees, Army Men. We kept it on a shelf right by the light switch – no one would find it there! A few years ago that laundry room caught on fire. Coincidence? Perhaps.
- During recesses for a full two years in elementary school, I would spend my precious 15 minutes, twice a day, spinning. Everyday. The ultimate goal was to get so dizzy the world looked wonky, but not dizzy enough to fall down. There is a fine line. Through extensive research, I found that if I tilted my head slightly to the left and spun in a clockwise motion, I got the best and most consistent results.
- I only ever got in trouble at school once. It was in grade 5 and it was during the glorious period of time I’d like to call Paper Mache Days. Paper Mache Days were spent creating enormous masks and sculptures that were simply fantastic. It was also during Paper Mache Days that I would spend smearing the watery glue all over my hands and arms, wave them around to dry them off faster, and marvel in the way they looked all wrinkly and old lady-y. These were the best days of elementary school, by far. I loved them so much, in fact, that one day after the bell had long gone and the classrooms had cleared, that my friend and I snuck back into our room and had a smearing hayday. Both hands, both arms, covered. When we were at the waving stage, our teacher came in and totally busted us. My friend got cornered and paid her dues that night (I’m not sure, but I think a caning was had). I was quick as lightening and got away. I had my first and last detention the next afternoon, but, oh, it was so worth it.
My God, I was a dork.