Click for full size.
I am the definition of a selected memory. I remember some of the most random off the wall shit from my childhood. The good, the bad, and the just plain weird.
I feel like I've been cheated a little at life considering my long term memory-selective memory is the bomb, while my short term is something to be desired. I can't remember phone numbers, names of people I've just met, or appointments for shit. I remember reading a tip to remember someones name, but I forgot what that tip actually is. Whoops.
WHAT I DO RECOLLECT HOWEVER :
my 1st grade guidance counselor dressing up in traditional Kwanzaa gear, carefully placing his kufi atop my little head. I was so honored. That was also the same year that a boy in art class whispered in my ear "I'm going to hump the shit out of you". I didn't know what "hump" meant but I remember smacking him across his face because I knew he was being dirty.
2nd grade I remember having my picture taken on the first day of class. I was super tan and wearing a hot pink onesie with a matching scrunchy, gap toothed and so excited to be a "first grader," no longer a little kindergartner. Our teacher asked our class "Now lets all share one important fact about ourselves with the class, so we can all get to know each other!" The little girl sitting next to me raised her hand and enthusiastically announced "I'm not wearing any undies!!!" Poor choice Jennifer Coleman, you free-ballin freak. She would later grow up to be a blowjob queen circa Middle School.
3rd grade we raised beetles in a large tank that were fed to our principals pet iguana. Why my principal owned a pet iguana that she kept in an aquarium located in her office, is far beyond me fellow bloggers. Also, for god knows what reason, I would VOLUNTARILY miss recess so I could feed the beetles handfuls of frosted flakes and watch them squirm around. I distinctly remember feeling sorry for the beetles dreaded fate. Life was so unfair.
We got a new jungle jim that year, watched our Principal go down a slide into a baby pool full of pancake batter, and my pervert gym teacher's toes always stuck out of his shoes. We played crab soccer in gym (if you don't know what that is I feel sorry for you,) and one of my favorite activities was "WHO CAN SCUFF AWAY THE SCUFF MARKS ON THE GYM FLOOR." And for some reason the prospect of scuffing away the most scuff marks really enticed me.
I wrote my first story about a beaver who ran away from home, in the 4th grade.
My teacher Miss. Grass (seriously her name was Miss Grass,) told me I was born to be a writer. She really liked that beaver story I guess?
I'd like to look back and say "Yeah when I was a kid I was on top of my shit! I read literally any book I could get my hands on and played with my American Girl doll 24'7! I helped my Nana cook! I was on a soccer team called The Blaze!!! I WAS REALLY INVOLVED AND HAD A GREAT CHILDHOOD!" While all of these statements are in fact TRUE, sadly world, I was a hopelessly embarrassing child.
Now I never outted myself to my entire class room when I wasn't wearing underwear, but I had my fair share of "Are you mentally challenged?" moments. I used to beg my best friend Melissa to play barbies with me and we once spent an hour attempting to suspend her Beanie Baby's from her bedroom ceiling by using clear fishing wire. Mission failed.
Once I was watching the movie Kingpin with my brothers. For some reason the scene where Roy Munson just fucked his triff' landlord and she's shitting on the toilet and does this :
was engraved into my brain and I made a mental note to ask my mom what it meant, because my brothers were laughing up a storm! So I figured it must be something hilarious! Fast forward a week later where I demonstrated back at my mom the derogatory notion for cunnalingus and asked "HEY WHAT DOES THIS MEAN" wiggling my tongue around while the entire grocery store stared at me. My mother embarrassed, ashamed and probs assuming I was a little lesbian in training, refused to tell me. Her response was "It's worse than flipping someone the middle finger Erica."
I theorize that me being a weirdass child was probably just my inner writer and creative imagination running on overdrive. Or maybe I was just battshit crazy from day one? Yeah, that's probably it. Anyway I'm glad I remember all these LOL moments from my childhood. Can't wait for my children to fuck up so I can blog about them.
No comments:
Post a Comment