Thursday, November 17, 2005

Snickers and I'm a bad kid

Ok, after reading Snow's comment, maybe I should have written NEWSpapers. I'm having a chuckle over the whole thing. Ok, I guess I can admit this. While growing up, I was very sheltered and living out in the middle of nowhere helped. My sister was more aware of the stoners in our school, I just thought everyone was somewhat dumb. My parents had put the fear of drugs in me, and with my addictive personality, I knew that one try would hook me. Fast forward 20 years (gah!) to where my friend and I were at a Moody Blues concert. Did I suspect? Of course not! We were sitting on a blanket, since it was at an ampitheatre, when I pipe up and say, "Huh. There's a grass fire nearby." My friend pointed out the kids in front of us "smoking" and had a good chuckle over my country upbringing.

I could get all holier-than-thou over both hubby and I never having tried anything illegal, but then I'd have to admit what 'fish' we were in college. Even two to three years out, I could still knock back 10 shots of tequila and still say no to guys' propositions. At thirty pounds lighter than I am now, I'd certainly trained a LOT in college to still be so tolerant. Hubs has better stories, like getting caught peeing in the park, having to dump beer and all that. He's half German, I'm 80% Irish, so you know that if we'd met even five years earlier, St. Pat's and Ocktoberfests would have been a lot more rum-soaked.

This segues into a wonderful Fry conversation from three years ago.


(in a voice that carries to the four corners of the Earth)
Mom, why do you like beer so much?

(stunned and not wanting to be a hypocrite)
Well...I don't like it SO much, but it's ok.

(with a sly grin because she knows what she's doing)
Yeah, but you said you really love it.

(hoping that cashier doesn't think she's a lush while driving the child around)
Yes...but that doesn't mean I drink it all the time.

All I remember after that was thinking "to the car" over and over.

Then, there's the time we were at Office Depot. I had to run in there before going to the gym. We were at the checkout counter when she told the checker, "My Mom's going to jail." Yes. She said this. It was one of those things that sounded good to her at the time, but as soon as she said it, thought, "What was I thinking?" I know this because I'd done the same as a kid. If I had in any way NOT looked like a walking mug shot, the whole thing would have been hilarious. I hadn't showered, was wearing ratty gym clothes, and didn't even have lip gloss on. I was so mortified that I don't think my knees even bent as I walked out the store. The checker guy was sweet and said "We all have kids," like he felt my pain when I exclaimed, "I'm NOT going to jail, ever. Where did you get this??"

Sigh. I'm dreading the teen years.

No comments:

Slow and Steady Wins the Race