Hazy Memories

The head cold from Hades has invaded my head as of late, so instead of boring you with my whining, I thought I’d pull a hazy memory from my drug-filled haze of a mind. A memory that made me chuckle on my way to work this morning. Involving me, a friend, and my first/last/only dance with the Mary Jane. Yeah, cuz I’m hardcore like that.

When I was in 8th grade, a friend of mine (we’ll call her Alex for the sake of the story) had this HUGE crush on a guy (we’ll call him Steve) in our grade. This guy also happened to be one of those guys that your mamma warns you about. Nine times out of ten he came to school high, and how he never got caught is still a mystery to this day. Because you could just see it in his eyes.

Anyway, even though he was a big loser, he was also super cute. And he liked Alex too. So one day he invited her over to his house to “hang out” and I, being the ever-supportive best friend that I am, gave into her begging and went along for the ride. Only she couldn’t tell her mom where we were really going, so her mom dropped us off at some cheesy little strip mall a couple of blocks away and would be picking us up after a couple of hours.

We trudged through all these stupid back woods (just in case her mom came back early) and met up with Steve at a bike track. Then we proceeded to his “friend’s” (read: dealer’s) house. As soon as we got there, the guys closed all these super dark window shades and started rolling up a big fat one. I was fascinated by the whole ordeal. The way they sliced into the cigar and packed the goods back into the wrapper, then sealing it up like it had always been that way was amazing to me! When they offered it up to us though, Alex and I both refused. By this point, it was just starting to kick in that we were not in a very safe situation. I glanced over at Alex, but she seemed fine, so I relaxed a bit.

The room was dark for about a half hour while the boys all went about their business. Alex and I began feeling a little giggly. It was pathetic, really, and I’m pretty sure it was mind over matter because all of a sudden we were STARVING and oh my gosh, y’all we’re gonna DIE if we don’t get some food soon. The guys all agreed by this point, so we all walked back to the strip mall where we were supposed to be shopping and went to Taco Bell. Between like 6 of us I think we had $5. So we all pooled together and bought a few tacos. Alex and I ended up sharing ONE taco.

When I think back on this part now, I think of the scene in Eurotrip when Scotty and the girl twin are in the Rasta bar in Amsterdam and they’re all “Oh my God, I’m totally tripping right now!” and the Rasta Man is like “Dude, there’s no weed in da brownies!” Because while we could have had a room buzz, there was NO WAY that we were as high as we thought we were.

The worst part of it was riding home with her mom. We were totally paranoid that she would smell it on us. Luckily she didn’t. Or she did and never said anything. But when we got back to her house, we had about an hour before my mom was coming to get me. And I knew she would smell it. She’s got a nose like you wouldn’t believe & could tell when I’d tried a cigarette for the first time—even though it had been six hours earlier.
So I took a shower & got most of the smell off of me, but my clothes still reeked. “What am I going to do?!?” I was freaking out by this point because I was sure that this would be the last straw with my mom & she would send me off to an all girl’s school or something.

Our solution? Debbie Gibson’s Electric Youth perfume. Practically a whole bottle of the stuff. Now, if you don’t remember EY, just think fruity with a tinge of something that stings the nostrils. I don’t know why, but we were both obsessed with the stuff. So, I doused all my clothes with EY and sufficiently masked the eau d’weed from my mom.

This is one of the very few stories that Glamorous Mom doesn’t know about. At least not to my knowledge. Because it was stupid and dangerous and I could have gotten arrested. So, kids, don’t try this at home.

And don’t ever—EVER—douse yourself in Electric Youth. Because if you catch even a hint of it ten years later, it just may send you into convulsions.

******
Also, I didn't write the letter. I mean I wrote it, but I didn't get it in. I missed the deadline and think two weeks from the incident is too far away. Besides, the more I thought about the fact that this whole pit of serpents I live around would be judging me was enough to make me all nervous and twitchy. Cuz I'm not that brave out here in Podunk.