Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Things that make me go "ugghhhh"

March 5, 1987
Well, everything is settled now, I think. Lately, life has been boring. LW, HM, JM and CT have all been sick in the past week, so I guess it's my turn next. Fun.
I really think I like ES. Sometimes in science I look over at him and he's looking at me.
Here I drew a little heart with our initials in it. Puke.
I just exterminated Calicoon from under my bed. L. wants to be a cosmetologist. Ha! She needs it!
Love, Me
BC pulled down CJ.'s shorts today in gym! He looked over at me and went "chick chick" like a camera and imitated pulling down my sweatpant. He is weird!!
And here I drew a poor rendering of BC.
BC wasn't the skiing wunderkind we know and love from the Olympics. If you're familiar with the band Ween, BC drew their little smiling guy. Ween went to my high school, btw. BC came into our school in 8th grade and I thought he was a little odd, but you can guess what the next few diary entries will turn into. A lovefest for BC.
He wore Corrosion of Conformity, PIL and Subhumans t-shirts. At the time, we didn't know who those people were. 10 years later, L had left a COC sticker in her senior locker, and I had met Johnny Rotten at a book signing at Tower Records in Boston. And I developed a fond love for the Subhumans.
Calicoon was the name of my cherished childhood pet. My dad had been feeding her at a jobsite he worked at in Philadelphia. One day, he came home from work and announced that he had something for us. He had somehow caught this stray cat and brought her home because he felt sorry for her. My dad feels sorry only for wounded animals, maimed veterans and helpless old people.
At the time, my mother was a transcriber for a court reporter. She typed up the transcripts of court cases. Yes, she types faster than people think. One of the court cases took place in a town called "Calicoon" in upstate New York. Because the cat my dad brought home was a calico, we named her Calicoon. She quickly aligned herself with me, and could usually be found in my room. Daniel and I would go exploring in the woods at the edge of our property, often times joined by Calicoon. When I was upset or sad, she'd sit on me and purr like a 454 big block. People talk all the time about how animals "sense" things, and she always could.
Calicoon lived a long, long happy life, until one fateful day in 1989, when she got hit by a car. We had driven to Montana for vacation, and were in Minnesota on the return leg. My mom called our grandmom, who lived a mile away, to see how things were back at the ranch. Daniel and I were choosing sandwiches in a gas station food mart, when Mom felt the need to tell me that my best friend in the world had died. My hand froze on the hoagie. The store shifted and tilted as hot tears burst from my eyes. Not caring what Minnesotans thought of me, I began wailing hysterically. My mother led me, crying, across the parking lot to our motel room.
Daniel and I sobbed all night long in our shared room. I remember being so angry at everyone who drove past our house. Was it Derek and his stupid fast green Camaro? Why didn't they slow down around the corner? Why couldn't this have happened when I was home, so I could see her pale green owl eyes one more time?
Oh, this is so sad. I'm sorry to bum you out. I'm sure the actual entry will show up in a few months.
ES. was tall, skinny, and later on, became a total asshole to me and my friends. He was one of the guys who would make fun of us, mainly because they knew they could never "have" us. At least that's what Alexis and I told ourselves. Maybe it was true. I think I was a lot cuter in high school than I give myself credit for. I wouldn't have touched ES or any of his jock friends for all the Smiths CDs in the world!

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