Every childhood is fraught with stories that cover the entire spectrum of emotions and feelings. Mine is as colourful as the gay pride flag…and then some. Each story isn’t very long, and certainly not long enough to dedicate a single post to a single story. Hence, the compilation.
1.Screaming “I’m not a virgin” is never Koscher in Elementary School.
I still blush in embarrassment whenever I even think of this story. It all happened in lunch time at Park Lodge. I was eating my lunchables pizza which was in those days coveted amongst any 4th grader. The soda in the box made you feel like such a “grown up”. Anyways, a girl named Janamarie was the only one in my class who knew of grown up matters. She kept bragging to everyone how she was a virgin. None of us knew remotely what that meant. Of course I, being the anarchist that I am, decided to start screaming at the top of my legs during lunch “I’m not a virgin!!!” to show that I’m not like her in anyway. I thought it had something to do with your personality; I was deadly wrong on that score. It took three adults to calm me down and explain to me what the phrase actually meant. I spent weeks trying to convince everyone I actually was a virgin, yet it still was in the collective of all my classmates.
2.Only a rebel rouser gets the entire class to scream “GET A LIFE” to the lesbian custodian.
This anecdote is something I cannot remember for the life of me. This witness is from the teacher who decided to tell my mother of my “shameful behaviour”. I guess the custodian had asked what I was doing and I didn’t feel particularly a need to answer. She asked “Did you hear me?” and I screamed “GET A LIFE”. I must have started to keep screaming it ,stand on my chair and start pumping my fist Jersey style. Soon the entire class matched my war cries. I was put in time out for 20 minutes every day for a week in class.
3.My pronunciation is constantly a laughing matter.
My mother tends to regale everyone with these three instances that perfectly sums up how I perceive every written language and how I sound out even the most simplest of words. Let’s start off with the Budweiser tale. Several years back my family attended a reunion in Montana. On out trek back, we stopped in Virginia City. There was a Saloon in town and I immediately saw the infamous Budweiser sign. Having never uttered the company’s name, what spewed forth from my adolescent lips was “Bud-weez-er”. It’s been a family joke since. The second story occurred during the 2008 Summer Olympics. I kept telling my mother to change to the “EE-kwo-stare-ian” trials when in fact it was pronounced “EE-qwest-strian”. Still, another family joke that has yet to die. The last notable story deals with my first instance with the word ego. I was yelling about how some boy in my 7th grade class had the biggest ego in the world. I, again, pronounced it so very very wrong. Saying “eh-goh” is not the right way. I still havent lived it down.
I have a lot of stories up my sleeve. I cannot remember them at this precise moment. If I remember them, I will most likely post them 🙂