More tales from the Yoop...

It struck me today, after my previous post, how fun it is to think back to my junior high and high school days and remember all of the stupid things I've never gotten in trouble for. There are, however, some things I caught hell for...

Like the time Polly Hollon and I (at least, I think she was in there with me) got busted smoking in the first floor bathroom by Mrs. Magnusson.

[Man she was mean. She hated us all I think. Me especially because she thought I was lazy. I may have been lazy but when we're forced to read The Great fucking Gatsby I have a hard time working up some top notch literary reviews. If only she could see my reading list now. She's probably critiquing my blog from the great beyond, may she rest in peace.]

She storms in to the bathroom (which NO one ever checked... except for the home-ec teacher who must have had some world-class bladder control since she rarely ventured out of the home-ec room) and we had absolutely no time to react because Mrs. M always wore those ugly soft-soled nurse shoes (they were grey and hideous... they looked like cinderblock bricks on her feet). So we're busted and in addition to getting suspended for 3 days (woot! who doesn't love getting suspended? I mean... that's, like, supposed to be punishment? Three whole glorious days of sleeping until noon, watching Jerry Springer and finding new ways to annoy the elderly neighbors next door with ear splitting Poison or Motley Crue? woo hoo!) we are forced to clean the first floor bathroom.

Um. Like. Eww?

So we start to clean. With bleach *and* ammonia. Hah! Aren't we clever? We didn't bother to read the labels (why? It wasn't on Mrs. M's required reading list?) so we weren't aware of the chemical reaction that would basically create a toxic cloud of fumes requiring that entire side of the first floor to evacuate. Um, hello? Mr. Seid [our science/biology/whatever teacher... he had a birthmark on his head the size and shape of Gorbechov's... it was impressive. Looked a little like Australia.] should have taught us to never mix the two chemicals at least, no?


Dear God. It's my 20th High School Reunion this year.

Need I say more? Okay... maybe just a little (or alot) more.

Like remembering when I got drunk on strawberry schnapps in the 9th grade and puked all over Tammy Paquette's mom's bathroom rug (it was pink... much like my puke - which made me even sicker at the time). Bless Tammy's mom's heart - she never breathed a word of it to my dad.

And then, just to reinforce the nickname "Puker", a year and a half later, drank too much Kessler's and Coke (to this day I cannot stomach the smell of whiskey. I plug my nose before I drink it if forced.) and puked all over the back of... {shit, what's his name's?} some dude's car. Some dork Tammy was hanging out with at the time (I think he drove a Festiva, if that tells you anything). Later that night I spent sitting on the porch of my dad's house, drunkenly convinced that the door was locked and I didn't have a key -- psyche! -- door not locked! Puked all over my room (ah, such fond, fun memories) and passed out before being roughly shaken awake by my dad at 2 am. Lame excuse was I caught the flu from drinking Tammy's coke at lunch.

Did he buy it? Hah! As if...

More to follow as I dredge up more morbidly fascinating yet infinitely embarrasing moment from my formative years... Stay tuned.