Saturday, February 21, 2009
Let me get out my gi-tar, straighten my cowboy hat, shine my belt buckle, throw my boots up on a desk, and start the strummin'! We'll sing every song he ever wrote and then end on a good note with the classic, "i've got spurs that jingle jangle jingle! as i go ridin' merrily along! and they say, 'oh, ain't you glad you're single?' and that song ain't so very far from home! Oh Betty Suuuueeeee! (oh betty sue) Oh Betty Suuuueeee! (oh betty sue) somethin' somethin' somethin' somethin' but that's why i married you!"
Should we sing Mary Did You Know now?
Friday, February 20, 2009
-when i was 3, my mom made me stay home with my Nana while my brother celebrated his 5th birthday with all his friends at an awesome clown party.
-on the way home from a trip to illinois, i thought the car was on fire, and as soon as my dad pulled the car to a stop, i lept over my grandmother and jumped out the side door, ready to run down the interstate and as far away from the car as possible.
-i threw up chicken noodle soup all over the braided rug on the way to the bathroom. it was my birthday, and i didn't get to have a sleepover party, but i did get the Quince i wanted from my parents (quince, quince, five times more fun, i love taking care of each and everyone! (how scary is it that i remember the theme song??)).
-my brother's best friend drop-kicked me in the stomach. it hurt.
-i had a friend who, when she thought the house we were staying at was being invaded by burglars, grabbed a grapefruit spoon to defend herself with.
-i won the Miss CFS pageant. my best friend told jokes as her talent. the year before, another friend of mine chose to do flips with her leg behind her head as her talent. i sang.
-i slept on the floor next to my brothers bed all night after i'd dreamed that he had died.
-i had to dance with a girl in PE class because i was too short to have a boy partner.
-in 8th grade, a boy brought me a gift from his trip to Disney World, and my parents made me give it back.
-i won a sewing competition. the award was a free trip to sewing camp. whoop-ti-do. i didn't go.
-i wrote a poem for Steve Wojciechowski (former Duke point guard) and mailed it to him.
-my best friend and i burried friendship oaths under a rock in her side yard.
-my math teacher wore an art smock to class with some victorian style boots.....and orange tights.
-my friend and i danced around my basement in my mother's old negligee nightgowns as Hey Jude and Yesterday played over and over again on my keyboard.
-for my 16th birthday, we had a huge party in our basement, and i danced with my crush to This I Promise You by NSYNC.
-my friend and i wrote the following letter to a boy as a joke, but got in trouble for it: "Deer_______, I hate your stinkin' guts! You make me vomit! You are the scum between my toes!" we took it from a Little Rascals movie and thought it was hilarious, but no one else seemed to. where is your sense of humor people??
-in 6th grade i got into a fight with another girl. she grabbed the chalkboard eraser and started hitting me on the head with it. i grabbed a piece of chalk and tried to write on her. my attempts were futile. she accomplished much with her eraser...i accomplished nothing with my wimpy piece of chalk.
-a different math teacher drew for us, on the board, the bruise that she had acquired on her backside. thanks for that.
-i watched meteor showers in below freezing temperatures while i had an abscessed tooth.
-i got a tan. no wait. that never happened.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Sometimes he even goes so far as to send valentine gifts to my roommates too so they don't feel left out.
Pictured is this years valentine :)
Thanks Dad! I love you!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Don't get me wrong. I love music. I love to sing. But, sometimes you are forced to do things that you look back on and wonder what in the world some people were thinking.
For example, we used to get paraded around at Christmas time in these Old English Caroler costumes that were absolutely ridiculous looking. The girls had red bonnets that velcroed under the chin with big plaid bows on the side. The boys had black top hats. Everyone wore black pants or a black skirt and these red capes that wrapped around our necks and practically choked us. We would walk around the mall or outside downtown Lenoir and occasionally in a nursing home dressed in these outfits and singing songs with words that i still have no clue as to what some of them mean. Like this one: On December twenty-five sing Fum, Fum, Fum. Fum? Why are we singing fum? Is that even a word? How do i know that it's not Old English for something i shouldn't be saying; especially not to a group of sweet, ederly people? I don't want to sing fum. I feel like a weirdo singing fum. Not to mention the velcro on my felt hat is itching my ching like crazy.
How about this one: Lo, how a rose e'er blooming. E'er. E'er? That can't be correct grammar. Exactly what two words make up that contraction anyway? Please enlighten me. I have no clue. And what's with this Lo business?? Was Shakespeare writing Christmas carols? Oh yes, in case the fabulous Caroler costumes didn't tip you off, these were both songs we sang at Christmas time. Whatever happened to Joy to the World? Or Away in a Manger? Those are normal songs with simple English that we all understand and recognize. Sigh.
Then there was this whole idea that EVERYWHERE we went we had to sing for the people. Our Principal just knew that complete strangers could not die a happy death unless we had sung Mary Did You Know for them in four part harmony, loom-ing our little hearts out. Every historic church we set foot in during field trips, "wait to you hear them sing," she would say. Our tour guides would stand politely by and listen as the lame leaped, the deaf heard, the blind saw, and the dumb spoke for the 5 millionth time that day, "Ohhhhhh, Mary did you know?" Of course, it helped that we had (insert sarcasm here) the most awesome soloist this side of the Mason Dixon line.....
.....anyway, if it wasn't Mary Did You Know, it was this African song we had learned about marching in the light of God:
(note: i have no clue how to spell in tribal)
Siyah Hamba Kukanaynee Kween Kos
Siyah Hamba Kukanaynee Kween Kos
Nee Kween Kos
Siyah Hamba Kukanaynee Kween Kos!
Tell me you wouldn't be thrilled to be reading all about how Benjamin Franklin sat in the same pew his whole life only to be interrupted by a bunch of awkard looking, braces wearing, Christian Tours bag toting highschoolers in skirts with hemlines below the knees or sideburns no lower than the ear lobe, singing an African worship song at the top of their lungs...in four part harmony. It would have been your lucky day! Especially if we gave you an encore with the For Him classic: Future Generations. "Whoa-Oh-Whoa! Whoa-Oh-Whoa!"
We had skills.
Ever heard of a cumberbun? I still have nightmares about those things. Ughh! Just a word of advice here to anyone who'd like to take it: Never force your child, or students, to wear cumberbuns. They are not attractive, they do not look good, and they ARE a fashion no-no. A cumberbun is pretty much a thick, satin belt with pleats in it. They used to be really popular for MEN to wear with tuxedos. Lucky for the girls at my school, we got to wear bright red ones with white pilgrim blouses and long black skirts. And panty hose. Let me tell you, this redheaded, freckled faced, paleskin looked amazing in a bright white shirt and obnoxiously red belt that reached halfway up her stomach. None of this waiting around stuff, we were a fashion disaster that happened.
Now where is that VHS....i have a sudden urge to see the musical phenomenon that was Mary Did You Know (yes, i have copies...want one? :))
Loom, loom, loom, loom, looooooom
Monday, February 9, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
i know you've been checking my blog every day for the next chapter in this story.
let me just say that this next part made the Mexico Trip one of the best memories i have from highschool (not counting what happened afterwards).
The sun had just risen on the morning of the day we were allowed to spend "absorbing Mexican culture" with our host families, and my middle name may as well have been sponge. I was ready for this. We were going to highschool with the daughter of our host family for her homecoming. I could feel the excitement building as we rode down the streets of Mexico on our way to school, the radio blasting a popular Mariachi tune of the time. My heart was pounding right along with the distinctive tuba that was keeping rhythm with the bass line. I remember being awed at the size of the school when we pulled up to it. It was huge. There were students everywhere. It was chaos...definately not what we small, hicktown girls were used to. I loved it instantly. We got out of the car, and Gabi and her cousin started introducing us to their friends. Then it happened. We were surrounded by boys. Boys everywhere. Wanting a picture with us: "foto? foto?" Seriously? Me? You want a picture with me??? WHY? They must not have had many American girls visit that school. Or maybe they were just in awe of how freakishly white my skin was...hah! Either way, it was fun. Cameras were flashing everywhere, and we all had stupid grins plastered across our faces. When the photoshoot finally came to an end, someone handed us pictures of the girl they wanted to win homecoming queen, and we pinned them on our shirts. Then we were lost in a sea of bodies as everyone starting crowding around to watch the candidates make their entrances. It was insane...there were moments when i was convinced we were going to be trampled and killed amidst the chaos. Talk about an adrenaline rush. I don't think they have to adhere to the same fire codes in Mexico that we have to here. After everyone was finally in place, the party began, and what a party it was. We were outside in a courtyard, but there was a screen over the entire area to keep the sun from making it too hot. There was a live band, and there was dancing. Lots and lots of dancing. The girls danced with a long stem rose in their mouths. Guys continued to come up to us and ask us for pictures, and finally, i met one that spoke English. We started talking and hit it off pretty well. His name was Jesus (pronounced hay-sooz), but he didn't go by that name. He went by Chui(like Chewy from Star Wars), because that's so much better than the alternative. Haha! I go to Mexico and meet Jesus but he prefers to be called Chewy. Tell me that isn't funny. He asked me if i wanted to dance, and i got really nervous for a second. The only dancing i'd ever done was ballroom because that's all we were allowed to do at my school. Everything else was totally and completely "inappropriate." I had no clue how to salsa, or rhumba, or cha cha, or do anything remotely similiar to what these highschoolers were doing. But, i'm a quick learner, so i threw caution to the wind and said to myself, "you're never gonna have this opportunity again. Go for it!" I took his hand, and he led me to the dance floor. I'm sure i looked like a total and complete dork for the first few minutes. I had no clue how to dance like him, but he was patient, and i finally caught on. Then it was fun...i didn't want to stop. After chatting it up on the dance floor some more, i learned that he was going to college in Arizona. No wonder his English was so good. I noticed some of my friends had been scooped up by several lucky guys, and they too were learning a totally new world of dance. We were all having a blast. This was the highschool experience we would never have, and we wanted to make it last as long as we could possibly drag it out for in that one, glorious day. We were free to just be without having to worry about someone telling us our shoes were out of dresscode, or that our earrings were too long, or that we had to go home and change because our clothes were inappropriate (meaning we actually looked normal), or that we were receiving double detention for a "bad attitude" (meaning we had looked at someone the wrong way).
It ended too soon. You know what they say about having fun...and it's so true...dissapointingly true. Why can't the good times take forever? We had spent a long day with our host family though; longer than anyone else had. I remember feeling kinda smug about the day i had had when we met back up with everyone else that night. The four of us knew no one could possibly top our day of "absorbing Mexican culutre," and we were right. People were jealous...they wouldn't admit it, but they were. You can just tell when someone is mad at you for having more fun than they did. The chaperones even got mad at us. They scolded us for staying out so late, but what did they expect us to do? Just leave Gabi and her cousin, and find our own ride home with some random strangers in Mexico? In a normal world, everything would have been just fine, but our world was not normal. In our world, if anything good happened to anyone who wasn't one of the "chosen few," it always ended badly. Unfortunately, none of the chosen had been with us that day, so there was a little tension in the air. It was like a time bomb waiting to explode. And it did. At dinner.
We were sitting around the dinner table, and one of the "chaperones" was telling a story and pretty much bragging about himself and how great he was. He was abusing his authority by making up scenarios about himself and then asking us what we would do in the situation, knowing that none of us had the guts to tell him the truth. None of us, that is, except for Amanda. My dear bff always had a hard time putting up with this certain person's obnoxious behaviour, and that night was no different. After he had just finished making a smart comment about what he would say to a student, and they had laughed uncomfortably at his ill attempt at self-righteous humor, Amanda commented, "i'd tell you to shove it."
We all kind of laughed...awkwardly. It was hilarious, but we didn't want to get in trouble. We shouldn't have been worried. He had Amanda in his sights now.
The bomb was about to go off.
Things were pretty calm for the rest of dinner. Then Amanda got called into the back bedroom with the Principal, her assistant, and the "chaperone" who just happened to be the Principal's son.
She was in there for quite some time and when she came out, i knew she was furious. I've known her since we were 5, and i knew this was not going to be good. Somehow we got a ride back to our host family's house, and then the floodgates opened. It wasn't fair. It never was. We knew it wouldn't be, but i think we all kind of hoped that the next time, things would be handled differently. We should have known better than to go against a sure thing. It's like running into a brick wall: you only hurt yourself...the wall never knows you were there. She got out her calling card and called her parents. The tears were flowing, but i think they were angry tears more than anything. How it was right for that man to sit there and say whatever he wanted and not be confronted about it (which he did all the time), and then when one brave student stands up to him she gets punished for having an attitude problem and being in "the wrong place with the Lord" (whatever that means), is beyond me. Was the outcome surprising? No. Was it still as upsetting? Yes.
I remember sitting across the room from her as she sat in silence putting one peanut butter ball after another into her mouth and wondering if there would be any left for me. Haha! She was so upset, she ate the whole bag. And i got to help :)
We were used to things going the way they did. Didn't make it right, but we were resilient and strong-hearted. That one incident would not spoil the day, or the rest of the trip, for us.
I love this song! I was so pysched when i found it on youtube today!!! It gets good about 30 seconds in, so don't give up on it.
Totally takes me back to my college days. Red, 2 door, honda civic, the "A Girls", and crazy dance moves as we drove up and down highway 74 blasting this song as loud as it would go.
Good Times :)