For REAL this time

It is long and rambling and not that witty, my apologies. I think I have a case of the Friday's.

That trip down memory lane was a fun one. In fact, I haven’t thought about many of those events in years. During the course of this exercise, a few random thoughts have come to mind.

First is the overwhelming difference of me then versus me now. I can envision friends that have known me for a lifetime reading my truths and ruminating over how lame they are. I can hear them now … I can’t believe she didn’t write about the drivers ed car … or the time we partied on the No News and woke up to the boat onshore … or the trip to the airport in the van that magically relocated a car. On the other hand, I can see people that came into my life at a later time reading these truths convinced that they all must be lies. Surely she means nine lies and a truth, right? I cannot even envision her being brave enough to wear a print shirt, or fun enough to accompany anywhere outside of business hours. It is utterly outstanding how quickly one can grow up and get their act together when life circumstances say, “Put on your big girl panties, the fun and games are over.”

Second is the fact that barely anyone chose the inebriated options that demonstrated a true lack of common sense. That must mean my reputation and character are more in question than I initially thought. Or, perhaps, you now can put a name to the face of the crazy person you saw in the fountain at Ceasers Palace.

Third is that while I won’t make this the longest blog post ever, I will have to expand upon some of those truths in later days. There is some blog material in those stories that I never considered before now.

How annoyed are that I haven’t told you the lie yet? First, I am going to address the most commonly picked TRUTHS. In other words, those of you who were wrong.

Unfortunately, the tattoo story is true. No matter how cool you think the idea is at the time, listen to your mother. You will regret it later.

The alphabet story is true. I grew up very close to Canada at a time when cable television wasn’t an option (and I walked uphill to school both ways in my bare feet, right?). Our antenna picked up the Canadian Sesame Street channel, which aired in French one day per week. Apparently that was during a time when it was okay to leave your child glued in front of the television while you attended to more important things, as NO ONE realized we were watching television in a different language. During this time, my mom was petrified to be the preschool room mom for the first time. She had received the warning that during this time, your child will spontaneously turn into an evil monster whose sole mission is to make you look like an inept parent. So, when I started blurting out, “ah, bay, say, day, uk, ef …” my mom gave me the look only a mother could give and told me to straighten up and say my ABC’s. The teacher interrupted and said, “Oh my! I think she IS following directions. She is just saying the alphabet in French.” A pain in the ass from the start you could say.

The bear story is true as well. Do you think I could make that crap up? My sister was there to affirm it. I was seven years old and playing at the end of our driveway, which was about a mile from our house. In retrospective moments like this, I honestly cannot believe I survived childhood. There was a bear in our driveway, conveniently placed between me and my access to home sweet home. I started towards the neighbors house with my mind frantically screaming, “Walk, walk, walk. You aren’t supposed to run if a bear is near or they will spook and chase you.” This conversation was occurring as my legs protested in an effort to not be eaten for lunch and picked up the speed, thinking "dumb ass, I couldn’t slow down and walk if I tried.” Incidentally, the bear did start following me. I made it to the neighbors’ house and despite the fact that they weren’t home, I went inside. I called my mom, but when she made it there I had to stay in the house for an excruciating amount of time because the bear refused to leave to premises. Fun times growing up in the backwoods ya’ll.

I am a horrible liar, in fact my lie is not all that far from the truth. It was the MAJOR. I changed my major THREE times (psychology > elementary education > business) and not because I decided what I wanted to be when I grew up. In fact, I still don’t know the answer to that question. I chose it because I had a minor amount of interest in it, it would allow me to graduate in the least amount of time, and it wouldn’t require taking any additional math classes. I had high standards that year.

Okay, duh, I guess that would be I changed it TWICE, thanks Beth! It is still the lie though. On second thought, if you count that I started as "undecided", I could claim three. I started college undecided and ended undecided. Why do I still owe them so much money?