Welcome to the June edition of my ICLW intro. If you’ve never been here before and have no idea who I am, check out the post the Rundown for a crash course on who’s who in SmartOneville.
One of my favorite all-time movies is The Goonies. Data is my favorite character (Mikey: What are you doing? Data: Setting booty traps. Mikey: You mean ‘booby traps.’ Data: That’s what I SAID! Setting BOOBY traps!), but it’s Chunk who was in one of my favorite scenes:
a good kid, probably the last kid in the class a teacher would think to name if they heard the word “troublemaker.” But like any kid, I had my moments of mischievousness. So by way of my ICLW intro, I give you my True Confessions a la Chunk:
In first grade, I stole strawberries from a neighbor’s garden. I thought I was tough shit for about five minutes, but later I puked up said strawberries because I felt so guilty.
In second grade, I made my little sister (then age 3) beat up a kid my age who was bullying me. She won. I did not feel guilty, even when I got in trouble for making her fight for me.
In third grade, I picked the wings off of dead flies and tried to feed them to my little sister, who was 4 at the time. I told her they were raisins.
In fourth grade, I sprained my ankle when I misstepped going down the steps out of my classroom. In the emergency room, I had a lot of fun zooming around in the wheelchair they put me in. I spent the next two weeks trying to accidentally on purpose sprain the other ankle so that I could trade-in the crutches for a wheelchair. You don’t have to tell me how stupid I was; I already know.
In fifth grade — I’m sure I had to have done something stupid but for the life of me, I can’t think of anything.
In sixth grade I called myself “running away” on the morning that I was supposed to go to parent conference (because my grades sucked big time). I was going to go to school late with Mom as soon as she returned from dropping Chanel off at the elementary school. While she was out, I left. I didn’t go far; I was right down the street in a secret little nook where two neighbors’ rear fences triangulated with the edge of a lake. After a few hours I noticed police cars driving slowly back and forth (they couldn’t see me from where I was). Around 5pm I finally sucked it up and went home. It’s a miracle that I’m alive to tell you this story, because my mom’s death ray eye daggers alone damn near killed me.
In seventh grade, I had another crappy school year grade-wise. Baby Me story, different year: “We don’t understand, because she’s just so intelligent and she’s very quiet in class. She aces all of her tests, but she rarely turns in homework, blah, blah, blah….” I went to a private school at the time and each week we were given progress reports. The best score was M for “Mighty in the Spirit” (and to this day I still think that is one of the cheesiest things ever). 1 basically meant doing well (and I’m safe), 2 = needs improvement (and I’m grounded), 3 = little/no effort (and I’m effed and in deep shinola). For about a month I had way more 3’s than I had M’s and 1’s. I came up with all sorts of excuses about why we didn’t get progress reports this week or that. Finally mom went digging in my purse and found four crappy progress reports stuffed in the bottom of it. She gave me a grade of M…for “Murder One Victim.”
In eighth grade, I got tipsy for the first time on cherry Kool-Aid and tequila. I have not had tequila since then.
In ninth grade, procrastination got the better of me and the night before a major research project on an assigned Native American tribe was due, I still had not completed the assignment. This was before information on the Internet was readily available, and we didn’t even own a home computer at the time, anyway. So, I stretched a filament of truth out to the nth degree and pulled a Native American tribe right out of my ass. It is complete truth that my great-great-grandmother’s name was Florida and she was half Cherokee. The tribe I created was the Sesquehara, and we were descendants. In my oral presentation, I explained that the tribe was small to begin with and eventually merged with the Cherokee, which explained why there wasn’t a lot of documented information that could be found on the tribe. Most of the history that remained of the Sesqueharans was passed down orally, and my mother told me the story just as her mother told her and so on. I was so very elaborate, going on to explain that unlike other Native American tribes, the Sesqueharans were a matrilineal society, in which the women were the tribal elders. Tribal religion centered around creation and “Mother Earth,” which is why women were placed higher in status than men. Family names were passed on by first born daughters. Truth – my first name is Soncera, which means “Morning Star.” Lie – I explained that my mother’s middle name is Soncera as was my grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s, and so on. Truth – my mom named me after a young Native American medicine woman in old John Wayne western. I also explained that the marking of time was told by monitoring a girl’s monthly cycle. This young woman held the honored position of Keeper of Time until she was married. At that time, another girl with cycles similar to hers would be given the honor of Keeper of Time. My teacher was so rapt with awe that when I was finished, she raved on and on about how very interesting everything was. I even got ten points extra credit for being so detailed and for thinking outside the box. If only she knew how far outside the box….
In tenth grade, I almost puked in a boy’s mouth when he kissed me. His breath smelled like cat litter. After that one kiss attempt, I made up lots of sorry excuses as to why I wouldn’t go on anymore dates with him. I don’t remember his name, but I still think of him as Scoop Away.
In eleventh grade, my sisters and I got off the bus only to find that we’d locked ourselves out. I was 16, Chanel was 12, and Danielle was 8. This was the umpteenth time that we’d forgotten our keys, so Dani, being the smallest, knew the drill; her job was to pop a screen out and climb through one of the bedroom windows to unlock and open the front door from the inside. On this particular day, just as Danielle was walking around to the back of the house, I found my key in a side pocket of my book bag. I instantly had the brilliant idea for Chanel and me to enter the house quietly and scare Dani as soon as she rounded the corner out of the hallway. We scared the piss out of her. Literally.
In twelfth grade, uuuhh…ditto fifth grade. I know; I suck.
Have a list of True Confessions a la Chunk? Leave a link in the comments, or I’ll make you stand on a rock and do the Truffle Shuffle.