This will teach Denyse Schmidt to think she's all creative and unique! I can make oven mitts too!
Hot damn, it did. And now for a chocolate eclair, unless he's speeding again....
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Photo trial
Let's see if this will work...Wait! I hear the ice cream man!
This will teach Denyse Schmidt to think she's all creative and unique! I can make oven mitts too!
Hot damn, it did. And now for a chocolate eclair, unless he's speeding again....
This will teach Denyse Schmidt to think she's all creative and unique! I can make oven mitts too!
Hot damn, it did. And now for a chocolate eclair, unless he's speeding again....
The Return of The Diary
Hi guys,
I know, you've missed me and all, but I've been sewing like mad for Gypsy Caravan and the Rock and Roll Craft Show at the end of May. Oh yeah, and I've been at work. I'm seriously considering taking tomorrow off, but I probably won't.
March 27, 1987
Dear Susan ( I hate that name!)
I have the hiccups. Hee cups, as L. says it. Tonight we went up to Quakertown to Central Tractor Farm and Family. It is so hick! The clothes were all mens' jeans. Daddy was slightly drunk tonight.
Good night.
By "slightly", I probably meant he was singing "Starry, Starry Night'" to the cat while laying on the floor. I distinctly remember describing things as being better than they were. And notice how I wrote "Daddy" instead of "Dad"? Yeah, things that night were probably bad.
Quakertown was the breeding ground of not only open-minded abolitionist Quakers, but also mullets, fringed/beaded "Seaside Heights '87" t-shirts, and white trash. I'm glad we moved before I got any older than 10. Who knows how many kids I'd be chasing around now? Is it environment or how one is raised that affects one's future life?
I know, you've missed me and all, but I've been sewing like mad for Gypsy Caravan and the Rock and Roll Craft Show at the end of May. Oh yeah, and I've been at work. I'm seriously considering taking tomorrow off, but I probably won't.
March 27, 1987
Dear Susan ( I hate that name!)
I have the hiccups. Hee cups, as L. says it. Tonight we went up to Quakertown to Central Tractor Farm and Family. It is so hick! The clothes were all mens' jeans. Daddy was slightly drunk tonight.
Good night.
By "slightly", I probably meant he was singing "Starry, Starry Night'" to the cat while laying on the floor. I distinctly remember describing things as being better than they were. And notice how I wrote "Daddy" instead of "Dad"? Yeah, things that night were probably bad.
Quakertown was the breeding ground of not only open-minded abolitionist Quakers, but also mullets, fringed/beaded "Seaside Heights '87" t-shirts, and white trash. I'm glad we moved before I got any older than 10. Who knows how many kids I'd be chasing around now? Is it environment or how one is raised that affects one's future life?
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Ugh
I swear I'll post again this weekend. This week was MAP testing, as well as parent-teacher conferences on Monday and Tuesday evenings. Tonight was the first time in 3 days I saw my backyard in the daylight. My tulips bloomed!
And yes, in case you're wondering, it IS a bad idea to have to give the MAP test, teach, then linger at school for the parents to come bitch about their kid's grades. I was so tired today I couldn't speak right. I am sure I won't be the first to say that teachers get treated like shit by their own districts.
And I'm allergic to whatever's dropping pollen all over my car.
To keep you entertained, and because Mai told me how to, here's some pics for ya.
Okay, that was supposed to go here. Obviously, it's me and Matt on our honeymoon. The person who took it was from the St. Louis area. Is it any surprise people here want to leave?
Let's try another one:
Sonuvabitch! Mai! Help me! My brother is only pretending to dislike having my wedding veil on his head. He's a good sport. It must be from all those times I put makeup on him as a kid.
One more, just for kicks.
Those are some rad potholders I made. They're not on www.squaresville.etsy.com yet, so if you like, let me know.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Spring Break Special
Hi again, folks. In honor of my Spring Break, I am posting TWO posts today, because I can't flash you my boobies, get my hair corn-rowed, get sunburned, or have sex with frat boys, or drink until I pass out in the shrubbery. That's my brother's job, anyway. The drinking, not the sex or boobie flashing.
So, here goes.
March 26, 1987
Dear Monique/Monica,
I cannot get this one algebra problem. I HATE IT!!!
C. is being such a jerk lately. I have no idea what her problem is. Maybe it's that time again. She kicked me in gym! And she doesn't say anything to me that is comprehensible. I ask if we need our history books and she says "mnph".
That is really getting on my "noyves".
Bodie is such a pervert. He's always trying to feel the girls out.
LW says that this (the C. thing) always happens right after C. goes to the mall with a friend. The next few days, she ignores them. I wanna KNOW WHY!
"Because inquiring minds wanna know".
Dawn Moresi is pregnant. So is Nancy Glass (Evening Magazine) and Cybil Shepard.
The one, the only,
au revoir,
Allison
I was constantly diagnosing people. And isn't the term "feeling the girls out" hysterical? You can take it literally and figuratively.
Dawn lived next door to H. H. always swore she saw Dawn and her boyfriend doing "it", because their bedroom windows were parallel. Dawn was in 12th grade, I think, and was the first teen mom I saw. It seems strange that I didn't go off on a rant about unwed mothers and bastards and sex before marriage. Not that I disapproved of pre-marital sex, it just hadn't crossed my mind. Instead, I focus my capital letters on C.
In 5th grade, we were best friends, but by 8th, she was moving in a different direction, not waiting for me to catch up. I wasn't sure I wanted to catch up with her. I liked my calmer friends like LW and H., who weren't as moody or physically violent.
Is it wrong to spell out whole names? What are the chances of C. actually finding this blog? What do you think?
So, here goes.
March 26, 1987
Dear Monique/Monica,
I cannot get this one algebra problem. I HATE IT!!!
C. is being such a jerk lately. I have no idea what her problem is. Maybe it's that time again. She kicked me in gym! And she doesn't say anything to me that is comprehensible. I ask if we need our history books and she says "mnph".
That is really getting on my "noyves".
Bodie is such a pervert. He's always trying to feel the girls out.
LW says that this (the C. thing) always happens right after C. goes to the mall with a friend. The next few days, she ignores them. I wanna KNOW WHY!
"Because inquiring minds wanna know".
Dawn Moresi is pregnant. So is Nancy Glass (Evening Magazine) and Cybil Shepard.
The one, the only,
au revoir,
Allison
I was constantly diagnosing people. And isn't the term "feeling the girls out" hysterical? You can take it literally and figuratively.
Dawn lived next door to H. H. always swore she saw Dawn and her boyfriend doing "it", because their bedroom windows were parallel. Dawn was in 12th grade, I think, and was the first teen mom I saw. It seems strange that I didn't go off on a rant about unwed mothers and bastards and sex before marriage. Not that I disapproved of pre-marital sex, it just hadn't crossed my mind. Instead, I focus my capital letters on C.
In 5th grade, we were best friends, but by 8th, she was moving in a different direction, not waiting for me to catch up. I wasn't sure I wanted to catch up with her. I liked my calmer friends like LW and H., who weren't as moody or physically violent.
Is it wrong to spell out whole names? What are the chances of C. actually finding this blog? What do you think?
To my special guest from Wyoming
I have totally been in Riverton! If you come back to read, I'll detail the "vacation" my family took to Montana during the summer I was 16. I think I even have pictures of your fair town.
No Witty Title Today
Yesterday, I typed this entry up. I had a clever title, but with a click of the mouse, all my creativity was gone. Today's entry documents the first written account of my hate affair with math. It was only after years of cashiering that I became proficient in the basics. I could count out the change before the register told me the amount. I can figure and add a 20% tip to any restaurant bill, and use that same skill to take 75% off already discounted women's winter wear.
My math life wasn't always like this. In second grade, I remember feeling a little lost when we counted up pennies and dimes and nickels. It was like I couldn't recognize that a penny was one tenth of a dime, which was one tenth of a dollar. And the half dollar? Fugetaboutit.
I have a distinct memory of my dad "helping" me with math homework in fifth grade. It was late. I was sobbing with misery and frustration. He would not let me go to bed until I got my homework done. Dad couldn't understand why I couldn't understand how to subtract 872 from 2000, for example.
Today, I can look at that problem, add 3 to get 75, add 25 to get 900, and then add 1100 to get 2000, for a grand total of 1128. It was all the carryng and borrowing from the zeroes that blew me away.
"But it's a ZERO! How can I borrow anything from it? It doesn't HAVE anything!!!" I cried. "What the hell is the matter with you? Why can't you get this! It's not really a zero!" Dad also cried.
If only he had put me in a minimum wage job behind a register for a year, then I would have understood the value of every freakin' penny.
March 24, 1987
Dear Francie,
I am really depressed right now at 8:54 pm. I cannot understand how to get formulas for algebra. I HATE THAT CLASS!! Mr. Ockenhouse is a cheap teacher! I don't know why he was hired, he himself said he was terrible at math when he was in school!
I HATE SCHOOL!
I RETIRE, QUIT,END, DROP OUT! I DON'T WANT ANYMORE!
Allison
Yeah, the Ockenhouse dynasty. Mr. Ockenhouse always reminded me of Jack Sprat. His wife, Senora Ockenhouse, taught Spanish. In 8th grade, we took a quarter of Spanish, and then a quarter of French to see which we liked and would pursue to meet the state foreign language requirement.
Senora Ockenhouse had a lot of "junk in the trunk", if you get my drift. She was tall, big, loud, and not inviting to meek, quiet little smart kids like me.
Madame Stern, on the other hand, wore funky culottes in weird fabrics. She especially liked les grenouilles (frogs). One pair of culottes had frogs on them. She enjoyed art and reading, and the finer things in life, which I did too. Hence, my 4 years of French, even though she always asked about my crabs (see earlier post).
Senora Ockenhouse was always pregnant. They had 4 boys and I think, finally, a girl by the time I graduated in 1991. They drove the first minivan I ever saw.
Damn, I wish I could remember what I typed last night. I am sure it was witty and would inspire many comments.
Oh yeah, Algebra was the only class I ever cheated in. To be fair, it is also a math skill I have actually used in real life. I make quilts, so geometry is my friend. Calculus, which doesn't even USE number, for chrissakes, has never helped me figure yardage. Trigonometry, taught by Mr. Bongiovanni, has never appeared in my adult life. I got B's in Trig, though-my best math grades ever.
Mr. Bongiovanni was a big Italian (naw-did you think he was Irish?) wrestling coach math teacher, which you'd think would have scared the trig into my brain, but he was super nice and a good teacher. I won't go into Calculus, except to say that the teacher wore WHITE linen pants through which you could see his underwear.
My math life wasn't always like this. In second grade, I remember feeling a little lost when we counted up pennies and dimes and nickels. It was like I couldn't recognize that a penny was one tenth of a dime, which was one tenth of a dollar. And the half dollar? Fugetaboutit.
I have a distinct memory of my dad "helping" me with math homework in fifth grade. It was late. I was sobbing with misery and frustration. He would not let me go to bed until I got my homework done. Dad couldn't understand why I couldn't understand how to subtract 872 from 2000, for example.
Today, I can look at that problem, add 3 to get 75, add 25 to get 900, and then add 1100 to get 2000, for a grand total of 1128. It was all the carryng and borrowing from the zeroes that blew me away.
"But it's a ZERO! How can I borrow anything from it? It doesn't HAVE anything!!!" I cried. "What the hell is the matter with you? Why can't you get this! It's not really a zero!" Dad also cried.
If only he had put me in a minimum wage job behind a register for a year, then I would have understood the value of every freakin' penny.
March 24, 1987
Dear Francie,
I am really depressed right now at 8:54 pm. I cannot understand how to get formulas for algebra. I HATE THAT CLASS!! Mr. Ockenhouse is a cheap teacher! I don't know why he was hired, he himself said he was terrible at math when he was in school!
I HATE SCHOOL!
I RETIRE, QUIT,END, DROP OUT! I DON'T WANT ANYMORE!
Allison
Yeah, the Ockenhouse dynasty. Mr. Ockenhouse always reminded me of Jack Sprat. His wife, Senora Ockenhouse, taught Spanish. In 8th grade, we took a quarter of Spanish, and then a quarter of French to see which we liked and would pursue to meet the state foreign language requirement.
Senora Ockenhouse had a lot of "junk in the trunk", if you get my drift. She was tall, big, loud, and not inviting to meek, quiet little smart kids like me.
Madame Stern, on the other hand, wore funky culottes in weird fabrics. She especially liked les grenouilles (frogs). One pair of culottes had frogs on them. She enjoyed art and reading, and the finer things in life, which I did too. Hence, my 4 years of French, even though she always asked about my crabs (see earlier post).
Senora Ockenhouse was always pregnant. They had 4 boys and I think, finally, a girl by the time I graduated in 1991. They drove the first minivan I ever saw.
Damn, I wish I could remember what I typed last night. I am sure it was witty and would inspire many comments.
Oh yeah, Algebra was the only class I ever cheated in. To be fair, it is also a math skill I have actually used in real life. I make quilts, so geometry is my friend. Calculus, which doesn't even USE number, for chrissakes, has never helped me figure yardage. Trigonometry, taught by Mr. Bongiovanni, has never appeared in my adult life. I got B's in Trig, though-my best math grades ever.
Mr. Bongiovanni was a big Italian (naw-did you think he was Irish?) wrestling coach math teacher, which you'd think would have scared the trig into my brain, but he was super nice and a good teacher. I won't go into Calculus, except to say that the teacher wore WHITE linen pants through which you could see his underwear.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
A Happy Day of Leisure
March 22, 1987
Dear Courtney,
Today was the best day I've had this month! It was sunny as hell, no wind, Dan and I rode our bikes up and down Aquetong Road. We made telephones out of cans, I mended my clothes, got my homework done, and Dad was in a good mood all day!
It was great!
G'night,
Allison
Cans. I made a can telephone and thought it was awesome. "CAN" you tell I lived in the country?! Actually, can phones are interesting and magical to kids. In fact, there's a styrofoam cup telephone sitting on my desk at school right now.
Aquetong is an Indian word. You can imagine the various ways I've seen it spelled. We lived where the Lenni Lenape Indians used to live. My mother found arrowheads in the creek when she was little. If you think "Aquetong" was bad, we used to live on "Scholl's School Road". Aquetong is pronounced like "Ack wa tong", not Aqualung.
And a day when my dad was cheerful ALL day? Stop the presses! Usually on the weekends, we'd be put to work, like child slaves. There were always rocks to be picked or dug out of the garden, or wood to stack, or a garage to clean out, or laundry to do, or something to be sanded/painted/washed/ spackled/etc. We'd get sent outside at 9 or so, and were allowed inside for lunch or to pee. If our dad came in and saw us sitting around, he'd say, "What the hell's the matter with you? Get your ass outside-you're not done! I work all goddamned week and it would't kill you to help out a little around here!"
Fatherly love. Nowdays, at 9 am on Saturdays, I'm up, showered, breakfasted, and ready to do something. Not sure what, but my hands itch to get busy. Yesterday, for example, I worked on moving the contents of the old compost bin into the new one I made. I sewed, I did 4 loads of laundry, I changed the sheets, I picked up the dog poo in the yard.
Today, I sewed, washed my car, ran the dishwasher, went to Hancock Fabrics, Jo-Ann Fabrics, went to knitting, came home and washed the fabrics I bought today. And now, I rest.
Thanks Dad, for making sure I'd always feel bad about sitting around and doing nothing. But thanks also for making sure I developed a healthy work ethic. There will always, always be something to do.
Dear Courtney,
Today was the best day I've had this month! It was sunny as hell, no wind, Dan and I rode our bikes up and down Aquetong Road. We made telephones out of cans, I mended my clothes, got my homework done, and Dad was in a good mood all day!
It was great!
G'night,
Allison
Cans. I made a can telephone and thought it was awesome. "CAN" you tell I lived in the country?! Actually, can phones are interesting and magical to kids. In fact, there's a styrofoam cup telephone sitting on my desk at school right now.
Aquetong is an Indian word. You can imagine the various ways I've seen it spelled. We lived where the Lenni Lenape Indians used to live. My mother found arrowheads in the creek when she was little. If you think "Aquetong" was bad, we used to live on "Scholl's School Road". Aquetong is pronounced like "Ack wa tong", not Aqualung.
And a day when my dad was cheerful ALL day? Stop the presses! Usually on the weekends, we'd be put to work, like child slaves. There were always rocks to be picked or dug out of the garden, or wood to stack, or a garage to clean out, or laundry to do, or something to be sanded/painted/washed/ spackled/etc. We'd get sent outside at 9 or so, and were allowed inside for lunch or to pee. If our dad came in and saw us sitting around, he'd say, "What the hell's the matter with you? Get your ass outside-you're not done! I work all goddamned week and it would't kill you to help out a little around here!"
Fatherly love. Nowdays, at 9 am on Saturdays, I'm up, showered, breakfasted, and ready to do something. Not sure what, but my hands itch to get busy. Yesterday, for example, I worked on moving the contents of the old compost bin into the new one I made. I sewed, I did 4 loads of laundry, I changed the sheets, I picked up the dog poo in the yard.
Today, I sewed, washed my car, ran the dishwasher, went to Hancock Fabrics, Jo-Ann Fabrics, went to knitting, came home and washed the fabrics I bought today. And now, I rest.
Thanks Dad, for making sure I'd always feel bad about sitting around and doing nothing. But thanks also for making sure I developed a healthy work ethic. There will always, always be something to do.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Guess? what
Ugh. Upon reading this, I want to eat more Girl Scout cookies and hide in my house. I was SUCH a FASHION WHORE!
March 21, 1987
Dear Louisa,
Hi. Sorry about the last few days, but nothing happened.
Today, I went to Oxford Valley Mall with C. I got a soft yellow Outback Red shirt, a black pair of pants, and a jean skirt. I wanted a jean jacket, but I ran out of money.
C. is always acting contrary to her mom. That really gets to me sometimes. I hate her car!
L. has been asking H. if she can borrow a pair of H's Guess? pants. H says absolutely no way in hell. She got Guess? overalls today. I like H. She doesn't show of her Guess? jeans like Tracey or Bobbie. I really want a pair though.
Bye!
Allison
Again, UGH. How exactly does one show off pants? Don't you just wear them? I ended up getting a Guess? jean skirt from my cousin Crystal the summer before 9th grade, I think. She lived in Fort Worth, so she must have been visiting my grandmom of knitting fame.
Outback Red. Now there's some bad clothing design. The shirt I speak of had that funny tab across the top button, a rounded hem in front, but a square hem in back. I think it had something on the upper sleeve, too.
At our school, the big haired girls wore their shirts tucked in the front, but left the back out, creating a diaper-esque look. I admit to doing it. As you may have guessed, I have no shame.
The black pants, if I recall, buttoned on the side, instead of having a zipper like every other damned pair of pants I could have bought. They lasted me for years, though. It was a frugal purchase!!
C's family car was roughly the size of the Ark. It was red with a white rag top. There were little windows on the sides next to the regular windows. It was white on the inside. I think they got it from a relative. C's mom produced nothing but girls, 5 I think by now. Her mom was super nice and sweet, but her stepdad was a jerk. What was it with me and evil stepdads?
Aie! My eyes are Creationists!!! My computer thinks dinosaurs never existed! I apologize for that freaking Ark link. Takes all kinds.
March 21, 1987
Dear Louisa,
Hi. Sorry about the last few days, but nothing happened.
Today, I went to Oxford Valley Mall with C. I got a soft yellow Outback Red shirt, a black pair of pants, and a jean skirt. I wanted a jean jacket, but I ran out of money.
C. is always acting contrary to her mom. That really gets to me sometimes. I hate her car!
L. has been asking H. if she can borrow a pair of H's Guess? pants. H says absolutely no way in hell. She got Guess? overalls today. I like H. She doesn't show of her Guess? jeans like Tracey or Bobbie. I really want a pair though.
Bye!
Allison
Again, UGH. How exactly does one show off pants? Don't you just wear them? I ended up getting a Guess? jean skirt from my cousin Crystal the summer before 9th grade, I think. She lived in Fort Worth, so she must have been visiting my grandmom of knitting fame.
Outback Red. Now there's some bad clothing design. The shirt I speak of had that funny tab across the top button, a rounded hem in front, but a square hem in back. I think it had something on the upper sleeve, too.
At our school, the big haired girls wore their shirts tucked in the front, but left the back out, creating a diaper-esque look. I admit to doing it. As you may have guessed, I have no shame.
The black pants, if I recall, buttoned on the side, instead of having a zipper like every other damned pair of pants I could have bought. They lasted me for years, though. It was a frugal purchase!!
C's family car was roughly the size of the Ark. It was red with a white rag top. There were little windows on the sides next to the regular windows. It was white on the inside. I think they got it from a relative. C's mom produced nothing but girls, 5 I think by now. Her mom was super nice and sweet, but her stepdad was a jerk. What was it with me and evil stepdads?
Aie! My eyes are Creationists!!! My computer thinks dinosaurs never existed! I apologize for that freaking Ark link. Takes all kinds.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Romy and Michelle
I love reading diary entries where I wax rhapsodic on the virtues of a new product, which has now become commonplace. I'm sitting in front of a trio of New Age-y Post-Its. They are grey, and have black and white pics of stones on them. Calming, rounded, natural stones. I won them at a bridal shower this summer-I didn't buy them. Heck, I've never bought office products-I just get them from school!
March 17, 1987, Tuesday
Dear Alicia,
Hi. Sunday, I went with C to Roadside America. Today was boring. Yesterday, L brought in this little note pad with sticky on it so you could post it (note) to something. She put one on H's back and it stayed until 3rd period. She really aggravates me sometimes.
C told me that Connie and Tracey are not virgins. I believe it. We (C and me) are writing a story about BW as a little kindergardener.
Ta ta!
Me
Okay, we were in 8th grade. 8th graders should be virgins. Now, based on the percentage of rumor mixed in with bragging, I'm only 50% sure that Connie and Tracey were telling the truth.
And the story thing? C was a great writer. I was too. In 7th grade, we co-wrote a long ass story about the childhoods of Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith from Tears For Fears. Yes, C had an unhealthy obsession with TFF. She collected every 7", 12" and Euro import record she could. For you younguns, music stores used to sell records in an unironic way.
So, we'd each write a couple pages or so, and pass it to the other. Our TFF story involved child abuse and alcoholism, thus spurring Roland and Curt to go into music to make money for therapy as adults. That last part was true-I heard it on a radio interview with them.
Later on, we'd write stories about Mike (our 9th grade crush-Hi Mike!) and the prequel to the movie "Willow". Thinking about it now, it was somehow like masturbating. Stay with me here...I'll explain.
I was too young, too ugly, and too scared of boys to do anything with them. Also, my parents ruled with an iron fist. So, I got my jollies by writing about my fantasy boyfriend, or movie role romance. You get it? Now, our stories weren't sexual by any means, but involved a lot of "Mike saw Allison and was amazed by how cute she was", or "Madmartigan swept Allison up in his burly sweaty arms and kissed her neck and her face".
C and I had code names for the Rennaisance Faire/Willow story, but I can't remember them.
And, lastly, Post Its. Again, L had all the cool things first, even though she was the only person I knew who got free lunch.
H and I had a love/hate relationship. I liked her freedom and sense of humor, but was always trying to keep my place in the pecking order, which led to making fun of her if others did. She was also guaranteed to freak out amusingly when she discovered any prank played on her. I feel a lot of remorse for teasing her like I did, even to this day. We became good buds in our 20's, when she moved to Boston. Many, many, many drunken nights at The Model and our apartment.
*sigh*
I know I'm going to get a lot of site visits by pimply teenaged boys who are not interested in 1987. Hi guys! Go visit my store at www.squaresville.etsy.com! There's not a lot in there now, but "please...keep me in mind..." (Smiths, dumbass!)
Oh yeah, you people need to comment!
I love Matt because he's burning "The Hurting" onto CD right now, so I don't have to listen to my cassette tape of it.
March 17, 1987, Tuesday
Dear Alicia,
Hi. Sunday, I went with C to Roadside America. Today was boring. Yesterday, L brought in this little note pad with sticky on it so you could post it (note) to something. She put one on H's back and it stayed until 3rd period. She really aggravates me sometimes.
C told me that Connie and Tracey are not virgins. I believe it. We (C and me) are writing a story about BW as a little kindergardener.
Ta ta!
Me
Okay, we were in 8th grade. 8th graders should be virgins. Now, based on the percentage of rumor mixed in with bragging, I'm only 50% sure that Connie and Tracey were telling the truth.
And the story thing? C was a great writer. I was too. In 7th grade, we co-wrote a long ass story about the childhoods of Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith from Tears For Fears. Yes, C had an unhealthy obsession with TFF. She collected every 7", 12" and Euro import record she could. For you younguns, music stores used to sell records in an unironic way.
So, we'd each write a couple pages or so, and pass it to the other. Our TFF story involved child abuse and alcoholism, thus spurring Roland and Curt to go into music to make money for therapy as adults. That last part was true-I heard it on a radio interview with them.
Later on, we'd write stories about Mike (our 9th grade crush-Hi Mike!) and the prequel to the movie "Willow". Thinking about it now, it was somehow like masturbating. Stay with me here...I'll explain.
I was too young, too ugly, and too scared of boys to do anything with them. Also, my parents ruled with an iron fist. So, I got my jollies by writing about my fantasy boyfriend, or movie role romance. You get it? Now, our stories weren't sexual by any means, but involved a lot of "Mike saw Allison and was amazed by how cute she was", or "Madmartigan swept Allison up in his burly sweaty arms and kissed her neck and her face".
C and I had code names for the Rennaisance Faire/Willow story, but I can't remember them.
And, lastly, Post Its. Again, L had all the cool things first, even though she was the only person I knew who got free lunch.
H and I had a love/hate relationship. I liked her freedom and sense of humor, but was always trying to keep my place in the pecking order, which led to making fun of her if others did. She was also guaranteed to freak out amusingly when she discovered any prank played on her. I feel a lot of remorse for teasing her like I did, even to this day. We became good buds in our 20's, when she moved to Boston. Many, many, many drunken nights at The Model and our apartment.
*sigh*
I know I'm going to get a lot of site visits by pimply teenaged boys who are not interested in 1987. Hi guys! Go visit my store at www.squaresville.etsy.com! There's not a lot in there now, but "please...keep me in mind..." (Smiths, dumbass!)
Oh yeah, you people need to comment!
I love Matt because he's burning "The Hurting" onto CD right now, so I don't have to listen to my cassette tape of it.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Owl pellets
In rereading this entry, looking for a witty title, I discovered the term "owl pellets". Now, most of you probably aren't that familiar with the digestive products of owls, so here's a good link.
And since Poppymom gave me props on her blog, I really have to post more. Yesterday, blogger.com was down, I swear!
March 14, 1987
Saturday
Dear Maureen,
Well, last night's dance was a fiasco. First of all, no boys from my grade came, only me and 9 other girls. Second, the DJ people coldn't get their equipment working, and they only played 5 1/2 songs! C was a jerk last night. She hung around with Connie and AD. I don't like who she's turning into! Today was interesting! Dan and I went over to Mr. Connelly's (4-H leader-Wildlife) and I found owl pellets (casts).
Yes, surprisingly, no boys came to the dance. What a shocker. I can only hope I didn't do the A-Ha dance I blogged about last month.
And yes, I was in 4-H for a couple years. My mom had always waxed nostalgic about her years in it, so my brother and I had no choice. Looking back now, I'm glad she exposed us to so many things. We were also in the library's Stamp Club and of course, the Summer Reading Club.
Our 4-H meetings were held in a different school district, so I didn't know any of the kids. The other girls were just as snotty and mean to me as the ones in my own school. It was always uncomfortable, sitting there for an hour each week, making small talk at age 13. Thank god my brother was there to keep me company.
I went to 4-H summer camp (not band camp, you perv) twice. The best thing about it was an older camp counselor who had a Mohawk and wore a Dead Milkmen t-shirt. I didn't know who they were at the time, but it made an impression on me. I thought she was totally cool!
Aside from that, those were the loneliest 2 weeks of my life. Why were people not friendly to me? Was it the way I looked? Sure, I was geeky, but didn't anyone see my sparkling personality and wit? Oh wait-I get shy in social situations and clam up.
But, while in 4-H, I won a bunch of awards for cooking, sewing, and gardening. I met a girl named Tara Althouse, who later worked with me at my first real job. We kind of bonded, being the dorkiest of our club.
In 9th grade, I told Mom that I was done with 4-h. She was saddened and surprised to hear my view of how torturous those meetings were. "But I had such fun in 4-H when I was little!" she exclaimed.
"That was 30 years ago!" I answered. "Kids aren't nice to each other anymore! I hate Meg! She always looks at me and laughs!"
She sighed, but she could see how I felt. Inside, I felt kinda bad, like I was letting her down somehow, but I got picked on enough at school, I didn't need any more torment from kids who didn't even GO to my school! Besides, I wanted to stay home and listen to the cool music I had heard on the Princeton University radio station. Imagine, a band called "Black Flag", like the bug spray!
And since Poppymom gave me props on her blog, I really have to post more. Yesterday, blogger.com was down, I swear!
March 14, 1987
Saturday
Dear Maureen,
Well, last night's dance was a fiasco. First of all, no boys from my grade came, only me and 9 other girls. Second, the DJ people coldn't get their equipment working, and they only played 5 1/2 songs! C was a jerk last night. She hung around with Connie and AD. I don't like who she's turning into! Today was interesting! Dan and I went over to Mr. Connelly's (4-H leader-Wildlife) and I found owl pellets (casts).
Yes, surprisingly, no boys came to the dance. What a shocker. I can only hope I didn't do the A-Ha dance I blogged about last month.
And yes, I was in 4-H for a couple years. My mom had always waxed nostalgic about her years in it, so my brother and I had no choice. Looking back now, I'm glad she exposed us to so many things. We were also in the library's Stamp Club and of course, the Summer Reading Club.
Our 4-H meetings were held in a different school district, so I didn't know any of the kids. The other girls were just as snotty and mean to me as the ones in my own school. It was always uncomfortable, sitting there for an hour each week, making small talk at age 13. Thank god my brother was there to keep me company.
I went to 4-H summer camp (not band camp, you perv) twice. The best thing about it was an older camp counselor who had a Mohawk and wore a Dead Milkmen t-shirt. I didn't know who they were at the time, but it made an impression on me. I thought she was totally cool!
Aside from that, those were the loneliest 2 weeks of my life. Why were people not friendly to me? Was it the way I looked? Sure, I was geeky, but didn't anyone see my sparkling personality and wit? Oh wait-I get shy in social situations and clam up.
But, while in 4-H, I won a bunch of awards for cooking, sewing, and gardening. I met a girl named Tara Althouse, who later worked with me at my first real job. We kind of bonded, being the dorkiest of our club.
In 9th grade, I told Mom that I was done with 4-h. She was saddened and surprised to hear my view of how torturous those meetings were. "But I had such fun in 4-H when I was little!" she exclaimed.
"That was 30 years ago!" I answered. "Kids aren't nice to each other anymore! I hate Meg! She always looks at me and laughs!"
She sighed, but she could see how I felt. Inside, I felt kinda bad, like I was letting her down somehow, but I got picked on enough at school, I didn't need any more torment from kids who didn't even GO to my school! Besides, I wanted to stay home and listen to the cool music I had heard on the Princeton University radio station. Imagine, a band called "Black Flag", like the bug spray!
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Hoity-toity me
March 12, 1987
Dear Joanne,
Today was tiring. I skipped last night because I was babysitting until 10:30 for an illegitimate baby. Isn't that a hell of a thing?
So, I'm worried about C. Yesterday, I heard she went with AD, Ben, Connie, and Tracey to a cemetary. I just hope they don't get her to turn bad or something. Tracey doesn't even like her! She was making fun of her skirt in reading today. C isn't in my reading.
AD is okay, but Ben? Please!!! He is the stupidest person in our class next to L.
We got 2 more hermit crabs today because Perrin (sob!) died. I didn't name mine yet, but I think I like Johann. Tory. No! Nothing with a name ending in "ie". I can't decide if it's a boy or girl, though.
I'll name him King Tut! Yes! because he is huge (well, big) and his shell is cone shaped!
I am wasting paper so bad. I love Eric Schneider! I hope he dances with me tomorrow at the dance!
So, yeah....this was the beginning of the end of the sanity of my friend C. In a few months, you'll read about how she started carving herself and smoking cigarettes! Horrors!
The "bad" kids in our school started hanging out in the New Hope cemetary after school. New Hope was the name of our town, not the cemetary. At the time, it seemed very dark and evil and scary to me-this hanging out with dead folks. Ha ha-The Misfits just came on shuffle on Matt's iPod/stereo set up!
Alyssa later became a hippie, Connie, so I heard, STILL lives in New Hope, and Ben? Who knows? I don't know why I disliked him so much. When he first came to our school in 6th grade, I got along with him. Much later on, he moved to another district, but still hung out in our town some weekends. We'd see him and shoot the breeze for a while. I feel bad now for hating him merely because he had what must have been a learning disability. He was a genuinely nice guy. Ben, I'm sorry! I was 14 and judgemental! You were really hot the last time we saw you!
Dear Joanne,
Today was tiring. I skipped last night because I was babysitting until 10:30 for an illegitimate baby. Isn't that a hell of a thing?
So, I'm worried about C. Yesterday, I heard she went with AD, Ben, Connie, and Tracey to a cemetary. I just hope they don't get her to turn bad or something. Tracey doesn't even like her! She was making fun of her skirt in reading today. C isn't in my reading.
AD is okay, but Ben? Please!!! He is the stupidest person in our class next to L.
We got 2 more hermit crabs today because Perrin (sob!) died. I didn't name mine yet, but I think I like Johann. Tory. No! Nothing with a name ending in "ie". I can't decide if it's a boy or girl, though.
I'll name him King Tut! Yes! because he is huge (well, big) and his shell is cone shaped!
I am wasting paper so bad. I love Eric Schneider! I hope he dances with me tomorrow at the dance!
So, yeah....this was the beginning of the end of the sanity of my friend C. In a few months, you'll read about how she started carving herself and smoking cigarettes! Horrors!
The "bad" kids in our school started hanging out in the New Hope cemetary after school. New Hope was the name of our town, not the cemetary. At the time, it seemed very dark and evil and scary to me-this hanging out with dead folks. Ha ha-The Misfits just came on shuffle on Matt's iPod/stereo set up!
Alyssa later became a hippie, Connie, so I heard, STILL lives in New Hope, and Ben? Who knows? I don't know why I disliked him so much. When he first came to our school in 6th grade, I got along with him. Much later on, he moved to another district, but still hung out in our town some weekends. We'd see him and shoot the breeze for a while. I feel bad now for hating him merely because he had what must have been a learning disability. He was a genuinely nice guy. Ben, I'm sorry! I was 14 and judgemental! You were really hot the last time we saw you!
Sunday, March 12, 2006
double superlatives, away!
It's funny to read these old writings of mine, and notice all the grammatical errors. In my mind, I was really smart and had a perfect grasp of the English language.
5 years of teaching English has sharpened my eye, and I now see spelling errors everywhere. In fact, at the Deals on S. Kingshighway, there was a sign up yesterday reading "Sorry we our out of helium. Thank you." Thank you for what? For not barging into the store like a crazed rhino screaming "WHO WROTE THAT SIGN? WHY DO YOU HAVE A JOB? TAKE IT DOWN NOOOOWWWWW so my husband and I can stop giggling in the parking lot." Oh, how I long for a camera phone.
March 10, 1987
Dear Melanie,
Today was boring. I have to be in a group with DJ (snob) and VS for Reading. That is the most boringest class in the history of Earth. I must write a letter to Paul in Ireland asking for lotsa information on Ireland for our project in Reading. He better write back!
I have to get some sleep since I got hardly any last night because I babysit Mondays and Wednesdays.
bye,
Allison
My hermit crab might be dead!!! Waaahhhh!! :(
Yes indeedy, "most boringest". The teacher, Ms. Behler, had dark blonde permed hair which resembled a poodle's ears. She was always very tan. Rumor had it that she was doing our assistant principal Mr. Righi. I hated her because she ended every sentence spoken to a student with "pumpkin", "sweetie", "honey", etc, etc. She was chirpy and bubbly and made me hate the one thing I used to love the most in the world-reading. I didn't need to know how to find the meanings of words in context. I knew all the vocabulary words she gave us. My reading speed was off the charts, as was my comprehension. Heck, I was probably reading when I popped out of Carolyn!
And the hermit crabs-we had a couple, and they were pretty interesting pets. Each new school year, my French teacher Madame Stern would ask "How are your crabs, Allison?" much to the amusement of my classmates. For the rest of the day, the cool kids would echo her words in the hallway. I hated the first day of French class.
Back then, I thought she didn't know the double entendre (ha! I DO know French!) of her words, but now I know she did it to torment me. I talked a LOT in French class, both in English and French.
So now I teach reading, and I can only hope I'm not killing some kid's favorite activity. Wait-65% of my school's students read below a 7th grade level, so I guess I'm safe!
Paul was my Irish penpal who corresponded with me for years. I developed a crush on him, and dreamed of moving to Ireland to marry him and hang out with U2. He came to Boston once, and we hung out, and he wore a tie-dye t-shirt, successfully dashing all my fantasies of becoming an Irish citizen. Sorry, Bono, we'll never get to chill!
5 years of teaching English has sharpened my eye, and I now see spelling errors everywhere. In fact, at the Deals on S. Kingshighway, there was a sign up yesterday reading "Sorry we our out of helium. Thank you." Thank you for what? For not barging into the store like a crazed rhino screaming "WHO WROTE THAT SIGN? WHY DO YOU HAVE A JOB? TAKE IT DOWN NOOOOWWWWW so my husband and I can stop giggling in the parking lot." Oh, how I long for a camera phone.
March 10, 1987
Dear Melanie,
Today was boring. I have to be in a group with DJ (snob) and VS for Reading. That is the most boringest class in the history of Earth. I must write a letter to Paul in Ireland asking for lotsa information on Ireland for our project in Reading. He better write back!
I have to get some sleep since I got hardly any last night because I babysit Mondays and Wednesdays.
bye,
Allison
My hermit crab might be dead!!! Waaahhhh!! :(
Yes indeedy, "most boringest". The teacher, Ms. Behler, had dark blonde permed hair which resembled a poodle's ears. She was always very tan. Rumor had it that she was doing our assistant principal Mr. Righi. I hated her because she ended every sentence spoken to a student with "pumpkin", "sweetie", "honey", etc, etc. She was chirpy and bubbly and made me hate the one thing I used to love the most in the world-reading. I didn't need to know how to find the meanings of words in context. I knew all the vocabulary words she gave us. My reading speed was off the charts, as was my comprehension. Heck, I was probably reading when I popped out of Carolyn!
And the hermit crabs-we had a couple, and they were pretty interesting pets. Each new school year, my French teacher Madame Stern would ask "How are your crabs, Allison?" much to the amusement of my classmates. For the rest of the day, the cool kids would echo her words in the hallway. I hated the first day of French class.
Back then, I thought she didn't know the double entendre (ha! I DO know French!) of her words, but now I know she did it to torment me. I talked a LOT in French class, both in English and French.
So now I teach reading, and I can only hope I'm not killing some kid's favorite activity. Wait-65% of my school's students read below a 7th grade level, so I guess I'm safe!
Paul was my Irish penpal who corresponded with me for years. I developed a crush on him, and dreamed of moving to Ireland to marry him and hang out with U2. He came to Boston once, and we hung out, and he wore a tie-dye t-shirt, successfully dashing all my fantasies of becoming an Irish citizen. Sorry, Bono, we'll never get to chill!
Saturday, March 04, 2006
March 8, 1987
Sorry for the lapse in blogging. I was in Chicago last Thursday, Friday and weekend. This week sucked at work and I've been sewing like a madwoman.
Upon reading this, I ask why did I write such boring stuff? I mean, really! Why did I think that future generations would need to know what the temperature was? Or how my grandmother taught me to knit by fear?
March 8, 1987
Dear Luanne,
Today I rode down to Grandmom's and started knitting a country blue Shaker sweater. It is fun, except I have to go slow unless I make a mistake. Then it's off with my head!!
Anyway, today was up to about 75 degrees! I wore shorts! It's supposed to rain tomorrow. Barf gag, gross, nowayhosea, absolutely not young man!
Tired as shit!
Allison
I'm gonna put a different name for my diary each night. Love and other indoor sports!
Like I said, dullsville! I drew a picture of me in a sweater with a mistake and a line across my neck. The phrase "love and other indoor sports" is from a teen novel, not my own ingenuity.
And shorts? Knowing me, they were probably Jams I made myself. I wish I had a picture of them to post. I am SO glad capris came into style. I can ease my way into blinding the world with my legs. Have you ever seen how naturally Marilyn Manson-like pale I am? I'm actually darker now than I was then at least on my face. I suppose that's from years of working at the snack bar at the Village 2 pool, and from walking the dog so much. Oh, and going to the Grand Canyon last summer and burning the shit out of my lips.
Upon reading this, I ask why did I write such boring stuff? I mean, really! Why did I think that future generations would need to know what the temperature was? Or how my grandmother taught me to knit by fear?
March 8, 1987
Dear Luanne,
Today I rode down to Grandmom's and started knitting a country blue Shaker sweater. It is fun, except I have to go slow unless I make a mistake. Then it's off with my head!!
Anyway, today was up to about 75 degrees! I wore shorts! It's supposed to rain tomorrow. Barf gag, gross, nowayhosea, absolutely not young man!
Tired as shit!
Allison
I'm gonna put a different name for my diary each night. Love and other indoor sports!
Like I said, dullsville! I drew a picture of me in a sweater with a mistake and a line across my neck. The phrase "love and other indoor sports" is from a teen novel, not my own ingenuity.
And shorts? Knowing me, they were probably Jams I made myself. I wish I had a picture of them to post. I am SO glad capris came into style. I can ease my way into blinding the world with my legs. Have you ever seen how naturally Marilyn Manson-like pale I am? I'm actually darker now than I was then at least on my face. I suppose that's from years of working at the snack bar at the Village 2 pool, and from walking the dog so much. Oh, and going to the Grand Canyon last summer and burning the shit out of my lips.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Man's Search for Videos
March 6, 1987
Today was pretty boring. Except L brought in these "raffle tickets" and sold them to us (not me, since I didn't have any money), saying they were for a raffle for Cub Scouts.
This is what they said:
$.25
Hello Turkey! You have just been screwed out of $.25! You are nowa member of the Dumb Ass club. You will remain a member for life unless yousell this ticket to some other turkey.
Don't bitch, don't whine, get your quarter like I got mine!
I went shopping with Mom and dropped an 8-pack of bottled soda on the floor! Luckily, they didn't break.
Love, Me
Okay, that wasn't very interesting, but it does make me wonder how I learned anything in school, what with L's Watchman, raffle tickets, and the various boys. And when did soda come in 8 packs? I don't remember drinking any soda as a youth...
Here is the next day's post, to assuage you. It marks an important moment in Walker Family History.
March 7, 1987
Dear Sarah, (I began using names instead of Dear Diary)
Today was weird.
1. I went with Mom and Grandmom, got shoes, a shirt, yarn and lunch.
2. My hermit crab is shedding his exoskeleton. Yuck!
3.WE GOT A VCR!!!
That's all! It was like spring today! We spent $71 on shoes!
Yes, we entered the modern age with our VCR. I think the first movie we rented was a Cheech and Chong movie, which my dad liked. If you knew my dad, you'd be like "What?", but he thought they were funny. I didn't get it. One evening, my parents ordered me and Daniel to stay in our rooms and not to come into the living room. I accidentally walked by and caught a glimpse of a naked body. Porn?! I doubt it, but maybe it was a racy movie like 91/2 Weeks or something. Totally gross!
Another memory of this VCR involves renting Pretty In Pink, and getting embarrassed when Andie and Blaine smooch. My dad was in the room with me, god knows why. I actually got up and left the room! I hovered within earshot so I could hear when the dialogue started again and it was safe to return. Usually, I only had to leave the room when a Prince video came on. Dad would stay up late on Friday nights to drink and watch Friday Night Videos with Dan and me. Our job was to freshen his white wine and club soda drinks, while he scratched himself and belched at the TV. Now I know whose soda it was that I dropped in Acme. I always thought it was so cool that he'd watch videos with us! He'd get toasty and start to sing along! Good times! Except for the "When Doves Cry" video.
I also recall this shoe shopping trip. I got a pair of grey shoes with the pointy toe and small wedge heel so common to the 80's. Why grey, I don't know. I had to get grey shoe polish too. Who wears grey shoes? My idea was probably that grey goes with a lot of colors, and I wanted to be coordinated, yet unique and funky. Oh I was unique, all right!
I also remember how warm it was. We opened our windows for the first time in months, and the fresh air smelled great. I think my dad even mowed the yard, which made the house smell even better.
And the funny thing about L was that even though her family was pretty poor, she always had all these cool gadgets and novelty items. I mentioned the Eddie Murphy videos and cable. She already had a VCR. We were the only family still living in the technological stone age. My parents only got an answering machine 2 years ago. If you come visit, you can observe the mysterious hieroglyphics in Dad's garage and maybe partake in an ancient game of drinking and telling racist jokes. A visit you'll never forget!
GREY SHOES, people, GREY!
Today was pretty boring. Except L brought in these "raffle tickets" and sold them to us (not me, since I didn't have any money), saying they were for a raffle for Cub Scouts.
This is what they said:
$.25
Hello Turkey! You have just been screwed out of $.25! You are nowa member of the Dumb Ass club. You will remain a member for life unless yousell this ticket to some other turkey.
Don't bitch, don't whine, get your quarter like I got mine!
I went shopping with Mom and dropped an 8-pack of bottled soda on the floor! Luckily, they didn't break.
Love, Me
Okay, that wasn't very interesting, but it does make me wonder how I learned anything in school, what with L's Watchman, raffle tickets, and the various boys. And when did soda come in 8 packs? I don't remember drinking any soda as a youth...
Here is the next day's post, to assuage you. It marks an important moment in Walker Family History.
March 7, 1987
Dear Sarah, (I began using names instead of Dear Diary)
Today was weird.
1. I went with Mom and Grandmom, got shoes, a shirt, yarn and lunch.
2. My hermit crab is shedding his exoskeleton. Yuck!
3.WE GOT A VCR!!!
That's all! It was like spring today! We spent $71 on shoes!
Yes, we entered the modern age with our VCR. I think the first movie we rented was a Cheech and Chong movie, which my dad liked. If you knew my dad, you'd be like "What?", but he thought they were funny. I didn't get it. One evening, my parents ordered me and Daniel to stay in our rooms and not to come into the living room. I accidentally walked by and caught a glimpse of a naked body. Porn?! I doubt it, but maybe it was a racy movie like 91/2 Weeks or something. Totally gross!
Another memory of this VCR involves renting Pretty In Pink, and getting embarrassed when Andie and Blaine smooch. My dad was in the room with me, god knows why. I actually got up and left the room! I hovered within earshot so I could hear when the dialogue started again and it was safe to return. Usually, I only had to leave the room when a Prince video came on. Dad would stay up late on Friday nights to drink and watch Friday Night Videos with Dan and me. Our job was to freshen his white wine and club soda drinks, while he scratched himself and belched at the TV. Now I know whose soda it was that I dropped in Acme. I always thought it was so cool that he'd watch videos with us! He'd get toasty and start to sing along! Good times! Except for the "When Doves Cry" video.
I also recall this shoe shopping trip. I got a pair of grey shoes with the pointy toe and small wedge heel so common to the 80's. Why grey, I don't know. I had to get grey shoe polish too. Who wears grey shoes? My idea was probably that grey goes with a lot of colors, and I wanted to be coordinated, yet unique and funky. Oh I was unique, all right!
I also remember how warm it was. We opened our windows for the first time in months, and the fresh air smelled great. I think my dad even mowed the yard, which made the house smell even better.
And the funny thing about L was that even though her family was pretty poor, she always had all these cool gadgets and novelty items. I mentioned the Eddie Murphy videos and cable. She already had a VCR. We were the only family still living in the technological stone age. My parents only got an answering machine 2 years ago. If you come visit, you can observe the mysterious hieroglyphics in Dad's garage and maybe partake in an ancient game of drinking and telling racist jokes. A visit you'll never forget!
GREY SHOES, people, GREY!
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!
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!
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Teen drama
March 3, 1987 (of course)
Man, so much has happened. Here it is:
1. H. was super pissed at me yesterday because I told BW she lusted him (me and H.)
2. We are now over it, but,
3. CT is mad at LW and vice versa because LW told TS that CT was crying over BW.
4. LW is pissed at CT only I can't quite figure out why.
5. CT was acting weird today. Could it be the 29th day?
6. CT is also mad at HM for reasons unknown to me.
I'll have to do some investigating tomorrow.
Yawn, Allison
At the bottom of each page of this diary was a drawing of a cat and a quote. Yes, I was a cat person. This page's quote was "Curiosity is the curse of a brilliant mind". I scribbled "True!" next to it. From an early age, I fancied myself an intellectual. This later became my only solace during my early teen years. I certainly was not cute, and was not a fashion plate, but I was smarter than most of my class, and I liked that. "At least I'm not stupid!" was my favorite comeback. When we got older, it changed to "At least I'm not a slut like you!" Those were good times.
Number 5 above refers to my developing theory that CT had major PMS. Now, I see that she had some serious mental problems. In 9th grade, she started cutting herself. I thought she was just weird, but now I wish I had told someone what she was doing. Last I heard, she's doing okay, having lived past 26. For years, she swore she would die before she was 26, just like James Dean. That's a whole other diary in itself-Ninth grade!
Man, so much has happened. Here it is:
1. H. was super pissed at me yesterday because I told BW she lusted him (me and H.)
2. We are now over it, but,
3. CT is mad at LW and vice versa because LW told TS that CT was crying over BW.
4. LW is pissed at CT only I can't quite figure out why.
5. CT was acting weird today. Could it be the 29th day?
6. CT is also mad at HM for reasons unknown to me.
I'll have to do some investigating tomorrow.
Yawn, Allison
At the bottom of each page of this diary was a drawing of a cat and a quote. Yes, I was a cat person. This page's quote was "Curiosity is the curse of a brilliant mind". I scribbled "True!" next to it. From an early age, I fancied myself an intellectual. This later became my only solace during my early teen years. I certainly was not cute, and was not a fashion plate, but I was smarter than most of my class, and I liked that. "At least I'm not stupid!" was my favorite comeback. When we got older, it changed to "At least I'm not a slut like you!" Those were good times.
Number 5 above refers to my developing theory that CT had major PMS. Now, I see that she had some serious mental problems. In 9th grade, she started cutting herself. I thought she was just weird, but now I wish I had told someone what she was doing. Last I heard, she's doing okay, having lived past 26. For years, she swore she would die before she was 26, just like James Dean. That's a whole other diary in itself-Ninth grade!
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Jealousy
Just so you know, I am no longer jealous of LW. Converse sneakers make my feet look like clown feet. That's a bad, bad thing.
February 28, 1987
I got back from L's birthday party. it was okay. I think she liked my punk/pink rabbit (I can't read my own writing!) LW aggravates me so bad! She bought yellow high-tops at the mall today and just me seeing them made me so mad! I dont' know why, though! She's always first: 1. to get contacts, 2. to get a perm
That makes me so angry!
Allison!
Little did I know that in a few short months, I'd get my hair chopped off and it would begin to grow curly, rendering a home perm pointless. The sneakers were yellow. I have never liked yellow on clothing. Why I was so angry, I don't know. Perhaps it's the Walker Gene that makes one fly off the handle at minor events.
My friend L. was the oldest of...well, at this point, 4 kids. By the time L. skipped town, there were 6 kids in the house. Her mom was always smoking, drinking and pregnant, yes, all at the same time. Is it any wonder the kids were all kind of slow?
I liked going to her house because they had cable, and didn't mind if we kids watched Eddie Murphy comedy videos. I remember the baby at the time falling asleep with the TV blasting in his room. Their TV was always on, which never happened in the Walker household. They also had lots of junk food, which was also a stranger to my house. When LH came over, she would remark on how quiet it was.
Her stepdad was a skinny, stubbled asshole. I have no shame in writing this. He'd make fun of her acne and rough up the other kids in front of her friends. From what I could gather, she was the maid for the family. They might have had a lot of kids, but their house was clean, thanks to L. One time she came to school with a big scratch on her face, and claimed it was from a pin that had somehow (Stepdad) appeared on her pillow. Thinking about it later, I realized the things I thought were fun and amusing were actually abusive, and it was no wonder L. always wanted to sleep over at my house.
I wish I could remember the exact details of her departure from New Hope, PA. I was in 10th grade or so. She moved across the river to Lambertville, New Jersey to live with?? A relative? A boyfriend? I've got it all written down in my 1989 diaries. It was a monumental thing, and I think I even took notes during our phone conversation so I could tell H. all about it.
Long story short-she called me once, years later. L. was in New Orleans, enjoyed heavy metal bands such as Krokus, drank a lot, smoked a lot, and had HAD SEX. I think she even dated a black guy, which was unheard of in our parts. After all, there was only one black guy who went to our school, Tom, and he thought she was a skank. He was right.
February 28, 1987
I got back from L's birthday party. it was okay. I think she liked my punk/pink rabbit (I can't read my own writing!) LW aggravates me so bad! She bought yellow high-tops at the mall today and just me seeing them made me so mad! I dont' know why, though! She's always first: 1. to get contacts, 2. to get a perm
That makes me so angry!
Allison!
Little did I know that in a few short months, I'd get my hair chopped off and it would begin to grow curly, rendering a home perm pointless. The sneakers were yellow. I have never liked yellow on clothing. Why I was so angry, I don't know. Perhaps it's the Walker Gene that makes one fly off the handle at minor events.
My friend L. was the oldest of...well, at this point, 4 kids. By the time L. skipped town, there were 6 kids in the house. Her mom was always smoking, drinking and pregnant, yes, all at the same time. Is it any wonder the kids were all kind of slow?
I liked going to her house because they had cable, and didn't mind if we kids watched Eddie Murphy comedy videos. I remember the baby at the time falling asleep with the TV blasting in his room. Their TV was always on, which never happened in the Walker household. They also had lots of junk food, which was also a stranger to my house. When LH came over, she would remark on how quiet it was.
Her stepdad was a skinny, stubbled asshole. I have no shame in writing this. He'd make fun of her acne and rough up the other kids in front of her friends. From what I could gather, she was the maid for the family. They might have had a lot of kids, but their house was clean, thanks to L. One time she came to school with a big scratch on her face, and claimed it was from a pin that had somehow (Stepdad) appeared on her pillow. Thinking about it later, I realized the things I thought were fun and amusing were actually abusive, and it was no wonder L. always wanted to sleep over at my house.
I wish I could remember the exact details of her departure from New Hope, PA. I was in 10th grade or so. She moved across the river to Lambertville, New Jersey to live with?? A relative? A boyfriend? I've got it all written down in my 1989 diaries. It was a monumental thing, and I think I even took notes during our phone conversation so I could tell H. all about it.
Long story short-she called me once, years later. L. was in New Orleans, enjoyed heavy metal bands such as Krokus, drank a lot, smoked a lot, and had HAD SEX. I think she even dated a black guy, which was unheard of in our parts. After all, there was only one black guy who went to our school, Tom, and he thought she was a skank. He was right.
Monday, February 06, 2006
Turn around, bright eyes
And here's 80's songbird Bonnie Tyler, with her hit, Total Eclipse of the Heart!
February 27, 1987
Oh I am so depressed. BW is moving to Virginia! Never again ( I think) will I see that face that I hated but secretly loved! I called him and he sounded so depressed. I told him I was sorry for everything and he said he was sorry. I gave him my address and phone # (215-297-5859 It was a nice, even, soft number. I loved it) . We were talking about younger brothers and sisters. He has a younger sister, 9, who lives in CA with his mom. He said that Dan and his sister should get together sometime. He better write! CT and I were so sad at lunch because AF and FB made a bye-bye sign and Bryan said we all danced great. He danced with me at one of our dances! I remember he said he didn't know how to dance so I showed him and we danced to TAKE ON ME! I wish he was still here! WWWWAAAAAHHHHHHH!
If this had happened in 2006, my phone number would have been blocked, due to my dad's threatening phone call a few days earlier.
And Oh Sweet Jesus, I can only imagine what I looked like dancing, especially to A-Ha's hit song Take On Me. I recall it involved a lot of interpretive arm motions. I also remember dancing to "Dancing With Myself" by my other husband, Younger Billy Idol. That incorporated some jumping/spinning moves usually seen on an ice rink. This dance lesson must have been in the end of 7th grade, when BW was new to school. He sat behind me in Mr. Brabson's class due to the alphabetical nature of our names. We wrote notes to eachother.
The sign was printed on a dot matrix printer using Printshop. The paper had little holes along the edge where it was fed through the printer.
And WHY was I so upset?! WHY did I give him my address (R.D. #2, Doylestown, PA 18901 from before we all got street numbers. I told you I grew up in the country. )??? WHY did I apologize??? Was I an idiot?
No, I was just 14 and dealing with hormones. They hit a lot earlier than any other sign of puberty did. I'm still waiting for my boobies to grow.
I still love Take On Me, though. Maybe I can find the tape on Ebay and have a dance party in my house. With Myself.
Other memory associated with that song: Miku (he wasn't Asian, it was a nickname for Mikhail, which was somehow German) singing "When I get a chance, I pull down my pants and I'm a-playing with myself, oh oh oh" in the library in 6th grade. Of course Mrs. Anderson heard him, and he got in trouble, but not before we heard his rendition of One Night In Bangkok. Ahem. "One night sucking a !!!! makes my bathroom smell, If you don't believe me come and take a whiff". Yes, I'm snickering uncontrollably as I type this; it's okay if you do as well.
I wonder what ever happened to Miku. The last time I saw him was 1993 and we were at the WaWa in New Hope. He looked pretty burned out, but we chatted for a bit about the band he was in.
February 27, 1987
Oh I am so depressed. BW is moving to Virginia! Never again ( I think) will I see that face that I hated but secretly loved! I called him and he sounded so depressed. I told him I was sorry for everything and he said he was sorry. I gave him my address and phone # (215-297-5859 It was a nice, even, soft number. I loved it) . We were talking about younger brothers and sisters. He has a younger sister, 9, who lives in CA with his mom. He said that Dan and his sister should get together sometime. He better write! CT and I were so sad at lunch because AF and FB made a bye-bye sign and Bryan said we all danced great. He danced with me at one of our dances! I remember he said he didn't know how to dance so I showed him and we danced to TAKE ON ME! I wish he was still here! WWWWAAAAAHHHHHHH!
If this had happened in 2006, my phone number would have been blocked, due to my dad's threatening phone call a few days earlier.
And Oh Sweet Jesus, I can only imagine what I looked like dancing, especially to A-Ha's hit song Take On Me. I recall it involved a lot of interpretive arm motions. I also remember dancing to "Dancing With Myself" by my other husband, Younger Billy Idol. That incorporated some jumping/spinning moves usually seen on an ice rink. This dance lesson must have been in the end of 7th grade, when BW was new to school. He sat behind me in Mr. Brabson's class due to the alphabetical nature of our names. We wrote notes to eachother.
The sign was printed on a dot matrix printer using Printshop. The paper had little holes along the edge where it was fed through the printer.
And WHY was I so upset?! WHY did I give him my address (R.D. #2, Doylestown, PA 18901 from before we all got street numbers. I told you I grew up in the country. )??? WHY did I apologize??? Was I an idiot?
No, I was just 14 and dealing with hormones. They hit a lot earlier than any other sign of puberty did. I'm still waiting for my boobies to grow.
I still love Take On Me, though. Maybe I can find the tape on Ebay and have a dance party in my house. With Myself.
Other memory associated with that song: Miku (he wasn't Asian, it was a nickname for Mikhail, which was somehow German) singing "When I get a chance, I pull down my pants and I'm a-playing with myself, oh oh oh" in the library in 6th grade. Of course Mrs. Anderson heard him, and he got in trouble, but not before we heard his rendition of One Night In Bangkok. Ahem. "One night sucking a !!!! makes my bathroom smell, If you don't believe me come and take a whiff". Yes, I'm snickering uncontrollably as I type this; it's okay if you do as well.
I wonder what ever happened to Miku. The last time I saw him was 1993 and we were at the WaWa in New Hope. He looked pretty burned out, but we chatted for a bit about the band he was in.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Feb. 23, 1987
This is a short diary entry. Apparently I had nothing monumental to write about. BW had started avoiding me, and I didn't have a Crush of the Week. But this entry is humorous in what it represents: crafting and bad fashion trends.
Feb. 23, 1987
Well, yet another late night. Mom and I were down at Grandmom's knitting. I'm gonna make a shaker sweater. I have to take my shower in the morning. Good night.
For the shaker sweater link, you'll have to scroll down to see the sweater I wanted to knit. Keep in mind, my body measurements were probably...29, 26, 26.5. The yarn I bought (remember Jamesway's shopping trip?) was a medium blue, country blue, dusky blue, etc. I got about 10 inches into the sweater and lost interest. Knitting sweaters is just not exciting unless you've got cool yarn or a cool pattern.
My mom eventually took over the knitting, and finished a sweater with sleeves like those dancing windsock people auto dealerships set up to lure customers in. It fit her, and then some!
So, 15 years later, I go into Knitorious for supplies for a sweater. What color do I walk out with? The very same country blue. Hey-it looks good on me! Where is the finished sweater? Still on stitch holders, snuggled into a basket in the living room. Coffee cup cozies are much more fun.
Some things never change. What was your first knitting project?
Feb. 23, 1987
Well, yet another late night. Mom and I were down at Grandmom's knitting. I'm gonna make a shaker sweater. I have to take my shower in the morning. Good night.
For the shaker sweater link, you'll have to scroll down to see the sweater I wanted to knit. Keep in mind, my body measurements were probably...29, 26, 26.5. The yarn I bought (remember Jamesway's shopping trip?) was a medium blue, country blue, dusky blue, etc. I got about 10 inches into the sweater and lost interest. Knitting sweaters is just not exciting unless you've got cool yarn or a cool pattern.
My mom eventually took over the knitting, and finished a sweater with sleeves like those dancing windsock people auto dealerships set up to lure customers in. It fit her, and then some!
So, 15 years later, I go into Knitorious for supplies for a sweater. What color do I walk out with? The very same country blue. Hey-it looks good on me! Where is the finished sweater? Still on stitch holders, snuggled into a basket in the living room. Coffee cup cozies are much more fun.
Some things never change. What was your first knitting project?
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
In which I prove myself to be a giant flaming dork
Dear readers, please go gentle on me when reading the following. I was newly 14. I had bad glasses (a trait I later used as an excuse to not date a great guy). My hair was a few months away from being sheared, leaving a pixie cut that looked great on everyone but me. It made me look like a boy. A 10 year old boy. With ugly glasses. Keeping that in mind, read on.
February 20, 1987
Nothing interesting happened yesterday. But, today was a very good day!!
1. CT and I are now Ace Detectives in our computer game and Interpol wants us to have an asumed name! But, the bell rang, so...
2. I got almost (1 wrong) all my algebra right!
3. I won 3rd prize in the Famous Nerds In History contest!! I get a Guiness Book of World Records 1987! I know it's not that exciting, but still, I won it out of all the people who entered in my age category.
Well, I guess that's all. I have a babysitting job tomorrow night until 10:30.
Mom is taking us to Jamesway tomorrow to do a little shopping (yarn, stockings, toys, etc)
Love, the usual -Me!
I know what you're thinking. " I had no idea that Allison was the 1987 third prize winner of the Nerds Candy "Famous Nerds In History" contest. My entry was Archimedes, who upon discovering water displacement, jumped out of his bathtub and streaked through the streets of wherever. The postcard announcing my victory is still in my diary.
I forgot that Jamesway sold yarn. My first bra was bought there. My dad played Donkey Kong there. In my high school, a common taunt was "Your clothes come from Jamesway!". Mine often did, but I denied it.
And yes, in study hall, my pals and I would get the large floppy disc (No, really, it was one of those huge floppy discs for the first Apple computers) of "Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?" from the librarian and sleuth our way out of New Hope, PA. Like I said, I was 14, and this was the sole computer game I would ever be good at, except, of course, Tetris.
February 20, 1987
Nothing interesting happened yesterday. But, today was a very good day!!
1. CT and I are now Ace Detectives in our computer game and Interpol wants us to have an asumed name! But, the bell rang, so...
2. I got almost (1 wrong) all my algebra right!
3. I won 3rd prize in the Famous Nerds In History contest!! I get a Guiness Book of World Records 1987! I know it's not that exciting, but still, I won it out of all the people who entered in my age category.
Well, I guess that's all. I have a babysitting job tomorrow night until 10:30.
Mom is taking us to Jamesway tomorrow to do a little shopping (yarn, stockings, toys, etc)
Love, the usual -Me!
I know what you're thinking. " I had no idea that Allison was the 1987 third prize winner of the Nerds Candy "Famous Nerds In History" contest. My entry was Archimedes, who upon discovering water displacement, jumped out of his bathtub and streaked through the streets of wherever. The postcard announcing my victory is still in my diary.
I forgot that Jamesway sold yarn. My first bra was bought there. My dad played Donkey Kong there. In my high school, a common taunt was "Your clothes come from Jamesway!". Mine often did, but I denied it.
And yes, in study hall, my pals and I would get the large floppy disc (No, really, it was one of those huge floppy discs for the first Apple computers) of "Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?" from the librarian and sleuth our way out of New Hope, PA. Like I said, I was 14, and this was the sole computer game I would ever be good at, except, of course, Tetris.
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