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We listen to one of those “We Play Everything” stations here at work, and boy do they mean it. Right now I am sitting in my office listening to “Do Me” by Bell Biv Devoe. Remember that song? That brings me back to when I was like 11 or 12 and I only had two tapes – Bell Biv Devoe and Tiffany. Even then, I sucked. Speaking of sucking, I went to watch my brother play softball yesterday and his team lost 17-0. He was really pissed, but he got free bar pizza so that made it better. And I think they get one or two free pitchers, but I could be wrong. Whatever. Not important. While I was watching the game, Nickolas was playing at the playground. Being his mom, I wanted to play with him. Then in swoops The Weird Kid. “What’s her name?” Okay, so he’s got really curly hair. But you can still tell he’s a boy. “How old is he? When’s his birthday? Does he like to climb the monkey bars?” Ugh. This kid followed Nickolas around the playground forEVER. Danielle and I were making fun of him when he turned his back, and one of the other parents caught us and gave us a stern, disapproving look. That made us laugh even harder. We are so mature. So only jj and Sallie knew about the ex-husband? Huh. Well, the short version is this: when I was sixteen or so, I started hanging out with these hoodlums. (I love that word. Hoodlum.) I fell hopelessly in love with the worst one possible. He was loud, drunk, and mean, but I, being sixteen, figured that he’d just fall in love with me and turn into Prince Fucking Charming. Yeah, that didn’t happen, but I let this guy step all over me (sometimes literally) for like three years. His best friend was from Peru. Awesome guy. Told me over and over again what a loser Mike was and that I really needed to get away from him. (Nice best friend, huh?) Once I passed out drunk – okay, more than once, but this one time I was passed out drunk on Mike’s bed. Mike told all the guys that were over that he didn’t care if they went up there and did what they wanted to me, in fact, he’d start the festivities. The best friend? Punched him right in the face, picked me up, carried me to his car, and took me to sleep on his couch. He’s that kind of guy. When his work visa expired, he didn’t want to go home. Most of his family was already here, and all of his friends. So I married him. Shh. I’m not entirely sure how legal that is. Well, it’s not like he paid me or anything. People get married for all kinds of reasons, right? So yeah, we lived together until INS stopped bothering us, and then I went to jail. And then we got divorced on my 20th birthday. We had ice cream to celebrate, and then he moved to Denver. I met Nick, dumped my loser fiancé who was in prison, and lived happily ever after. I’m really not as white trash as I sound. I promise. Someday I’m going to write a book about all the crazy shit that I packed into the first 23 years of my life. The last three years have been comparatively tame. I run into people from back then and they barely recognize me. They can't believe that someone like me could be married and have kids. For fuck's sake, I sell insurance for a living. Ten years ago, I would have laughed my ass off if you told me that. Of course, I was probably already laughing. I used to laugh a lot. Kids are: "Like a Prayer" Madonna. Last person who pissed me off: Idiot drivers this morning. Heard in my house: "I'm putting my peepee in the peepee cage." Don't. Ask. Miss Anything? It's a boy! - 2006-12-12
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