Monday, July 31, 2006

Troubled Teen Mojo

I probably was the most difficult and disobedient child in my family. I think between the ages of 13-15, I drove my Mom to drink wine every night. My Mom hated two things, lying and black eyeliner.


When I turned 13, I started taking an interest in make-up. I was only allowed to wear Bonnie Bell lip gloss. A friend gave me a black eye liner and I thought it made me look so hot. One day, I came home from school with raccoon eyes and my Mom almost had a heart attack.

"What is that on your eyes? You look like a tramp! Take that off! You have natural beauty. You are never to wear that trashy make-up again."

Whatever, I decided just to put it on at school. Then, I'd wash it off before I came home. I wasn't a smart enough 13 year old to know that there was black smudges still around my eyes. When my mom came home, she asked me if I wore the black eye liner again. I lied and told her I didn't wear it. She went and got a Q-tip and circled my eyes with the white cotton tip. It turned black and I had black eye boogers. I got smacked with the hair brush and had to turn over my beloved black crayon.

But that paled in comparison to the July day before my eighth grade year. My mom and dad both worked so that left me home alone during summer break. I had rules, I wasn't to leave the neighborhood and only my best friend, Chrissy was allowed to come in our house. Chrissy and I got a phone call from some older high school boys. They wanted us to ride around with them in their parents' van. I would agree only if they took us to McDonald's, I was obsessed with super sized fries. They said we could stop for fries and I told them to meet us at the end of our street. I knew better than to let the nosey neighbors see me get into a van with boys, they'd tell on me.



They pick us up and we head to Mc'Ds. I was happily chowing down on my french fries when I heard a siren behind me. I turn around and a cop is following us , complete with siren blaring and flashing lights!
"Aren't you suppose to pull over?" I naively ask.

But we sped up and the cop is still on our tail. The older boys tell me to shut up. I can't eat my french fries because I sense trouble. A second police car comes flying out of a side street and is chasing us now too. Chrissy and I are screaming stop as we are sailing through a residential area at 55mph. Now we have four cop cars chasing us and I scream,
"If you do not stop, I will jump out of the van!"

The older boy comes to a screeching stop and the two of them jump out of the van. They try to run away but the cops are on them like flies on dog poo. They get clubbed in the dome piece with a night stick and cuffed. Chrissy and I are still sitting in the van holding our french fries, crying our fool heads off. I didn't know if I was going to get beat with the stick or not.

The cops take the boys away and come talk to us. I guess the brain trust boys hit a Porsche at the mall before they picked us up and drove away. It's called hit and run. I told the cop I didn't know anything about it, I just wanted some french fries. He told us we were too young to be hanging out with the bad boys. I told the cops I was sorry and I'd never see them again. I told them thanks for their concern and Chrissy and I would be moving along. We'd just walk home since the van was being impounded. I thought I was brilliant, our parents would never know!

The cop wasn't letting us off that easily though. "Where do you live?"
I assured him not very far away.
"What neighborhood and street?" he quizzed me.
I decided I better not lie and told the truth.
"Lowry Drive? That's over eight miles away. I am going to drive you girls home."

I broke out into the ugly cry, I was going to be driven home in a cop car! The neighbors would have a field day with this information. I had a plan, exit the cop car as quickly as possible. When he pulled up in my driveway, I'd jump out real fast and say "Thanks for the ride!"



When he pulled into the driveway, I couldn't find the handle to open the damn door. I was panicking, where is it? He informed me there was no handle, he had to open the door from the outside. I saw the neighbors looking through the windows as the cop walked me up to the house and invited himself inside. My parents weren't home yet. He left his number and told me my parents were to call him in the morning. If he didn't get a phone call, he'd come back to the house.

I saw my life flash before my eyes. My Mom was going to kill me. I called my oldest sister at work and told her what I did.

"You know Mom is going to really windmill you for this, don't you? You are only 13! You are way too worldly wise for your age. I think they need to send you to Christian school."

No sympathy.

My mom and her windmill. The windmill is when she smacks you repeatedly with both arms flailing. I asked my sister to send her boyfriend over, I needed some moral support when I broke the news to Mom.

I was grounded for the rest of the summer and couldn't hang out with Chrissy again. My sisters' boyfriend did come over when I told mom. It didn't spare me. Mom just had an audience while she windmilled me.

All for fucking super sized fries!?
** I couldn't resist playing Ice Ice Baby. It was the song that was playing on the stereo when we were pulled by the cops. My husband was begging me to remove the song from my blog, he hates it. Vanilla Ice is notorious on this farm. The baby goats dance like Vanilla Ice, the whipper snapping of the head and all. I've always questioned Ice, "Did you really hear shells hitting the pavement?"***

9 Comments:

At 5:26 PM, Blogger Chris said...

Super sized fries ARE good, but probably not that good. But had you been going to the supermarket for some Jalepeno chips... hmmmm. That might almost be worth a good windmilling. :)

 
At 10:48 PM, Blogger JF said...

Great story! There were several times that my friends and got into cars with the wrong people and age (how old do you have to be to drive), but fortunately I never got caught! But there were plenty of times that my sister ratted on me for other things! What are sisters for?

Keep the stories coming!

 
At 8:28 AM, Blogger :) said...

OMG...one of the best posts ever. Hilarious!

Mmmmm...McD's fries are the bomb (but not worth the windmill).

 
At 9:11 AM, Blogger Julia said...

OMG - I have a thirteen year old daughter who is constantly acting up, we fight day and night...but NOTHING like that! Thanks for the perspective :-)
It could be worse !

 
At 1:37 PM, Blogger Janet Edwards said...

Dang, good story. I got a few of those myself.

Maybe you should sue McDonald's for getting you in trouble.

 
At 3:08 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Snort!!!
ROFL!!!
Girl, you crack me up and I am forever in your debt for it!!!

 
At 7:57 PM, Blogger MissJenny said...

I love your stories. And I personally quite enjoy some vanilla ice.

 
At 1:17 AM, Blogger The Big Cheese said...

"You know Mom is going to really windmill you for this, don't you?"

That is Gold my dear, Gold.

 
At 7:52 PM, Blogger mmjiaxin said...

ferragamo shoes
michael kors outlet
rolex watches outlet
tory burch outlet online
michael kors handbags
coach outlet store
mac cosmetics
michael kors outlet online
wellensteyn outlet
michael kors outlet
canada goose outelt
air max 2014
ray ban,rayban,occhiali ray ban,ray-ban,ray ban occhiali,ray ban sunglasses
woolrich outlet store
fred perry polo shirts
michael kors outlet
tiffany outlet
canada goose jackets
oakley outlet store
mizuno running shoes
mm1127

 

Post a Comment

<< Home