If you’re here from Aunt Becky’s site, pull up a chair. We won’t be discussing John C. Mayer today, but thanks for stopping by, and I hope you come back again real soon.
Do you ever go back home? Like back to your old hometown where you went to high school and attended prom, and developed eating disorders and twitchy aversions to Usher’s song, “You Make Me Wanna”?
Some of you may enjoy this experience, but for me it’s hive inducing. The thought of going back there always makes my crotch and armpits sweat.
I don’t know what it is about going back. But I think it was the Hell that I went through in high school.
I mean, I was freaking popular. I think. Maybe. So why did it suck so bad?
Maybe it was Hell because my dad was our principal, and he was giving my friends detentions like it was Halloween candy, and all of the teachers either kissed my ass and gave me A’s or made my life miserable because they thought that I knew what their performance reviews stated (I didn’t).
Maybe it was Hell because I was obsessed with my boyfriend, Burt, and my life revolved around him and his shitty quarterback skills. Oh, and he cheated on me with my friends. So I kind of hated my friends, too. Which resulted in serious girl trust issues.
Anyway, I went back last night. I went back with one of my only remaining friends from high school, Brittany.
Brittany and I went to the Meet the Moms Networking Night. We were invited under what were clearly false pretenses on Facebook. I was pretty sure that the old townsfolk wanted us to go back home and tell them how I we (okay!) SHE became this famous blogger. And in my mind, we were going to walk in the room and everyone was going to applaud and tell us how famulous (famous + fabulous = famulous, look it up) we are and also ask for our autographs.
Obviously this did not happen.
Instead, we paid $1 to enter the room (Um? Famulous people have to pay to get in?), got whispered about, dirty looks were shot our way, and we had no choice but to order some wine from the bar.
ME: Why are we even here?
BRITTANY: I don’t know. This is like a fucking craft show or something. Are we supposed to be buying stuff?
ME: Didn’t you think this was a networking thing?
BRITTANY: Do you want to leave?
ME: Totally. Ooo! Cake!
The Swanton Posse Coalition ( the SPC) was the closest thing to a gang that our little town would ever see. They were the bad boys. By bad, I mean the worst thing they did was smoke pot, pick fights, toilet paper houses, and stay out past curfew. And they also wore purple bandannas (our school color, yo!) to show their unity and toughness.
The SPC drove my dad and Burt nuts. My dad was sick of being toilet papered every weekend by these guys. And Burt was constantly picked on, after losing a football game, by the SPC because they would never leave home and go off to college. Swanton High School football was their life.
Oh, and did I mention that I was absolutely in love with one of them? Tony Robinson.
Tony Robinson was the leader of these bad boys. And he showed the slightest interest in me my Senior year. It was totally awesome because a) I had a boyfriend who cheated on me all the time so I finally had some competition for him and b) because he was smoking hot and three years older and c) because every girl likes a bad boy (even if you do spend half of your weekend cleaning the toilet paper mess out of your yard).
Burt always thought that something was going on with me and Tony. Probably because I drew little hearts on all of my notebooks with the initials T. R. in them. Or it could be because one night I went to a party at an SPC member’s house and when Burt showed up, the SPC told him I was sleeping (at a party?) so he left.
Burt, after all of these years, I would like to come clean about that night. I was totally making out with Tony in the basement at that party. I knew you were outside. But there was some heavy petting going on and it was very exciting since I had only ever really made out with you up until this point. And I did feel his HUGE boner through his jeans as we were dry-humping. I never told you because a) you always cheated on me so I figured I could have a hall pass on this one and b) because you always cheated on me so I figured I could have a hall pass on this one.
I think my cheating secret will still be safe since I doubt that Burt is one of my five readers.
Anyway… Tony Robinson was the hottest member of the SPC…. wait. I think I got sidetracked there. Back to Meet the Moms…
ME: Oh my gosh. The cake was sponsored by the Swanton Posse Coalition! Do you remember those guys?
BRITTANY: Dude. That stands for Swanton Parents Club.
ME: So Tony Robinson isn’t here?
BRITTANY: No, but did you see what Sarah is wearing? O.M.G.
ME: Let’s eat something. I’m soooo hungry.
BRITTANY: No way! We are NOT eating in front of these bitches.
No one asked us for our autograph or even gave a shit about our lives. And I didn’t even recognize half of the people. I ordered guacamole dip mix from my high school cheerleading coach. And we ditched the Meet the Moms meeting after a half hour to go eat chicken wings and find more wine (because apparently Brittany is still clinging to high school eating disorder issues and wouldn’t eat in front of these hometown PTA bitches). Without judgy-ness.
I can’t believe I was all stressed and spent $45 on a new shirt just for that. If I could get a redo, I would have just hung out with Brittany in my sweat pants and drank wine out of a box at her fancy house (without all the hives, armpit and crotch sweat). High school sucked, and I don’t ever have to go back there again.
Yay for being a grown up!