Tuesday, January 31, 2006

The best day of 8th grade

I had gotten a job babysitting the 5 or so month old son of a woman who lived across the street from my grandparents. The idea was that if anything went horribly wrong, I could run across the street to Grandmom. She was going to night school to be a paralegal. She kept frozen breast milk in the freezer, and never had any good snacks. I remember the baby cried a lot. This might have been my first solo babysitting job for an actual baby.
The reader needs to know that in the Walker household, we all go to bed wicked early, and get up wickedlier early. My dad worked sheet metal jobs in Philadelphia, which was about an hour and a half away. My mom cooked him breakfast and made his lunch before 5:30 each morning. Therefore, 11 PM was ungodly.
Also please note that I refer to my ugly purse as "junk".
February 18, 1987
Well, today was unbelievably great, cool, rad, etc. BW gve me ALL my junk back and now ignores me. I went babysitting for MN and I got back at 20 of 11! So now Dad says I can't babysit anymore! And he's the one who wants money in my bank account! Well, exactly how am I to rebuild my accound when I get no money? I can't figure out M. All I know is that:
1. She's 28.
2. She says John (baby) is everything in the world to her.
3. She loves cats.
4. She's rich.
5. John is going to be so spoiled when he grows up because she pampers him soo bad.
6. She has a picture of her ( I guess) and some other dude in her window so I don't know if she's married or not, maybe separated.
Well, that's all folks,

BW never once mentioned my father's thinly veiled threats to him. Nowadays, there'd be a lawsuit before you could say "your dad did what?" He did leave me alone the rest of the year, but not everyone else did. 8th grade sucked big time.

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Feb. 17, 1987

For some reason, I only wrote 2 entries in the Modern Composition Book. Perhaps I was unwittingly saving it in its pristine state so it would be worth more on Ebay. We now fast-forward to February 17, 1987.
Well, now I am contemplating whether to quit school or to retire (oh, the foreshadowing to 2006!!!) I am in BIG trouble with BW. Dad called him up and told him that B. was really pissing him (Dad) off. Just great! Now I have to practically live behind B. Just stay out of his way, that's what I do. But my parents think otherwise. Well, aside of that, today was pretty good. In history, we did our skit and it was SO bad. So D. asked Mrs. Jones if we could do it again. We can. L. brought in her Watchman, but nothing good was on. Man! I have to get some sleep tonight! Bye and (maybe) farewell! I hate and do not understand algebra!

The story behind the entry: So, I was at the kitchen table, doing my homework, and Dad sat down to do the crossword puzzle. "Gimme a pencil, " he said. I hesitated. BW had stolen my entire purse, so I didn't have a pencil, not to mention self-esteem and confidence. "Uh, I don't have one," I muttered. "Get one out of your purse," Dad said, looking at the paper and planning his answers. He looked up when I didn't answer. "Where's your purse?" I could hold it in no longer. "BW stole it when we were walking out to the busses! I hate him!"
My dad flipped out. "Are you shitting me?! This is it! I'm sick of his bullshit!" He stormed into the other room and opened the phone book. I heard him dialing. My stomach flipflopped and moved north to my throat.
"Is this BW?....This is Mr. Walker, Allison's father. I hear you have Allison's purse, is this true?....Well listen, B, you've really pissed me off this time. You better get it back to her tomorrow, and if I ever hear your name again in my house, you're gonna pay for it, understood?"
Dad came back to the kitchen table. "You'll get your purse back tomorrow."
The kidnapped purse was actually rather ugly. It was shades of ecru, taupe, and grey. Imagine pieces of yarn laid next to eachother and stitched to a backing fabric. I don't know what I was thinking. But hey, it was 1987.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Dear Diary

This is from a pale green "Modern Composition Book" which was used all the time in school for essay writing. I haven't seen one in years, but if I did, I would want to write an essay in it. "List and describe 3 causes of the Revolutionary War." "What does 'To err is to be human' mean in terms of All Quiet On The Western Front?" and so on.
Feb. 4, 1987
Hi! Well, today is the first day of my new diary. I guess I'll tell you what happened today.
1. H. thought up this great idea in Music that we would have a trial for me and BW. See, yesterday, I wrote this note to C. about how much I hate him and I described the way he hid the bulge in his pants. Well, he got it
(the note, not the erection) after tearing several pages out of my notebook. Anyway, he is super super super mad at me and I guess I'm hunted.
So H. got an affadavit from me, AD, AM, and H. herself, oh, and J. about how he bothered me yesterday in gym. So we told him and he said he'd be there but he wimped out and went home!
That's it.
I will now officially rate the people in my class.
1. KA-okay, nice, but a little insulting at times.
2. BB-stupid, uly, dumb, ugly, stupid, ugly...(need I say more?) Ah heck, I'll just do my friends and people who I am involved with.

1. CT-very creative, funny, sometimes a wee tiny bit pushy but a really good friend.
2. AW-okay, a real good friend, has contacts, which I am very jealous of
3. AM-a nerdy person, not a real true friend, but she always gives me gum and talks to me in homeroom.

So, you can see where my priorities lay. Gum. Non-stupid people. Certainly not Music Class. BW had been friendly to me the year before, but in 8th grade, he turned evil and spent each day harassing me by snapping my bra, teasing me, insulting me, embarassing me. I spent a good portion of my time avoiding hallways I knew he would be in. In 1987, bullying just happened, usually to me. We didn't have afterschool specials or character education classes. We didn't fight in my school, so that wasn't an option. I now know I should have told someone like a principal or a teacher, but I kept quiet. I just hoped he would get tired of bothering me and move on to some other geek. He did end up with braces and bad acne, while my face is still blemish-free. Later on, though, BW got his, courtesy of My Dad.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

trunk monkeys

Maybe this is old news. I just stumbled on this series of videos for a car company featuring a cool little monkey (well, actually, it's a chimp, but whatever) that hides out in the trunk of a car and does funny things when the driver presses a button on the dash. Old news? Maybe. Funny? Yes sir.


Yes, I am quite responsible for this whole affair. I'm excited too, because I plan on hijacking this blog to talk about scooters and the clash. I'll open with this: scooters are really cool and so are the clash and if you disagree you are bad.

In Which Allison Starts Another Project

So the other day I said to M., "I think I want to have a blog! I like writing! I'll publish my teenage diaries online and become an overnight media sensation! I'll also make a mint if I let Google advertise on my site!" He grunted, and I retreated to the sewing/computer room with dreams of hanging out with Oprah, trading one-liners with Conan, and winning Blog of the Week in the local free weekly paper.
I came home wicked late from work tonight, because the English Department was told to make a mock MAP test to prepare our students for the real one. We had snacks and chocolate, and got rather perverted and giddy. You know the point, where even a benign word like "blow" sounds funny. Well, part of our test involved whales, which may or may not be of the sperm variety, and which have blowholes. I think Kim ruptured something when I said, "Keep your sperm whale out of my blowhole, you skank!"
As I was saying, I came in the door and found M. working on my computer, building my blog! Yay! Happy Birthday to me! Now the whole world can read about my trials as a boy-crazy teen in the wilds of Pennsylvania. Don't worry-I might have been boy crazy, but I wasn't attractive enough to be a skank.
So, stay tuned. This is gonna be good.