Posted in C-Haze, Children, Conservative, Current Events, Dating, David Letterman, Democrats, Family, Funny, Humor, John McCain, Liberal, News, Parent, Parenting, Politics, Relationships, Sarah Palin, Sex, Willow Palin

David Letterman, John McCain and Willow Palin

Ok, so David Letterman may have crossed a line with his recent jokes regarding Sarah Palin and her daughter, with some people even calling for his termination from CBS.

I thought the jokes specifically about Governor Palin were pretty funny- and not the slightest bit out of line- though perhaps slightly off-color.

I did, however, cringe at his quip about Palin’s daughter.

The Governor had taken her 14 year old daughter to a Yankees game while recently visiting New York. Letterman joked on his show that during the Seventh Inning Stretch, Willow, the daughter, got “knocked up” by Alex Rodriguez.

Disgusting, for sure.

I’m not here to condone Letterman’s comments. Personally, I feel that for the most part, children of politicians should be off limits for all of us- late night comedians included. I do make an exception for people such as Megan McCain (John McCain’s daughter) and Bristol Palin (Sarah Palin’s oldest daughter) because A) they are not minors and B) they have chosen a life in the public eye- Megan as a popular blogger, Bristol as a public advocate for abstinence.

Personally, I’m not a fan of the double standard here.

Can you imagine, for example, had Conan O’Brien quipped, during Michelle Obama’s recent trip to London with her daughters, that Sasha (or Malia- pick a kid), had been knocked up by Hugh Grant?

Or worse, Boy George?

David Beckham?

I realize that politically incorrect, often distasteful humor, is par for the course in late night comedic television… but sometimes, as we all know, lines do get crossed, and feelings get hurt.

Unfortunately, and it pains me to say this- as I am a Letterman fan- his so-called apology on the matter was grossly inadequate. Letterman claims that his joke regarding Palin’s daughter was actually geared towards Bristol Palin, but I’m not buying it. Everyone knows Bristol was not the one who accompanied her mother to the Yankees game, and surely,  considering all of Letterman’s staff, if not the big man himself, someone would have picked up on this fact.

This, at best, was a terrible gaffe on the part of his research department. At worst, he knew exactly what he was saying and who he was saying it about.

Regardless, it was a completely inappropriate thing to say.

What enrages me, however, even more than Letterman’s false and disengenuous apology, is certain Republican politicians’ reactions to his comments.

John McCain, for example, when asked his opinion by news source Reuters, stated, “I don’t understand why Letterman would say that about a young woman… They deserve some kind of protection from being the butt of late-night hosts.”


Funny, considering McCain’s own comments about then-President Bill Clinton’s daughter, Chelsea, on the Letterman show back in 1998:

Why is Chelsea Clinton so ugly?  Because Janet Reno is her father.

It makes one wonder… are John McCain and friends truly against the idea of people attacking the children of politicians… or does it only become a no-no when said politician is a fellow conservative?

Letterman was wrong for saying the things he said about Willow Palin, and that family deserves a genuine apology.

… But as we all know, peoplewho live in glass houses should not throw stones.

Willow Palin deserves our outrage on her behalf. Unfortunately, when it comes from such sources as John McCain, the anger appears phony, crafted, politically motivated and most of all, horribly hypocritical.

Pedophilia, rape and teenage sex are not humorous topics- regardless of who is making the joke, or who the joke is about.

It is, after all, a national epidemic, as Sarah Palin and family know first hand.

Perhaps, instead of duking it out over which public figures’ children are and aren’t off limits, our time would be better spent advocating on behalf of the children who find themselves the butt of these most reprehensible jokes.

Posted in C-Haze, Memories, Nostalgia

The Day I Ran Away

I ran away in 8th grade. It all started when I met a boy named Ryan (we were 14). He liked my southern accent, I liked his jet black hair and blue eyes. He would walk me to and from school. The walk was fairly long, so I actually wound up spending quite a bit of time with him, considering we couldn’t actually date (my parents said I was too young).

One day, Ryan asked me to skip the first period of school with him. At first, I said hell no. Absolutely not. It wasn’t that I was such a goody-goody, but just a year prior, I had gotten in a lot of trouble for skipping school (My First Felony… And The L Word ). I was leary of repeating that mistake, because it had definitely not been worth the consequences.

Unfortunately, as men typically can (and he was no exception), Ryan was able to break me down (it was those damn eyes- I couldn’t say no!), and convince me to do it. He said he knew for a fact that the school wouldn’t call our parents about our being late as long as we got there sometime during 2nd period. Apparently, this was something he did regularly. As long as we physically showed up prior to 3rd period, our parents would never know. That sounded too good to be true, as I’m never that lucky, but I decided to take my chances anyway.

We picked a day, and we went for it. That morning we left our houses like we normally would, but instead of walking to school, we walked to some railroad tracks nearby and sat under a bridge. That’s it. Not very exciting, I know.

I tell you what, if I’d known then how all this would turn out, I certainly would have done something exciting- so that I could at least say it had been worth it! 

We paid close attention to the time, and made sure to sign ourselves in to school before the start of 3rd period. We even signed in at different times, so we wouldn’t raise suspicion.  We thought we were soooo smart!

Except that we weren’t. It was about midway through 3rd period when the principal called me into his office.

He says, “I noticed that both you AND Ryan were late this morning, so I called your parents. Your father said you shouldn’t have been late, and that you left the house on time this morning- he was very upset to learn you didn’t make it to school”.

OH CRAP! He called my dad?!?!

Yep, he sure did. He then went on to tell me that since my father’s reaction to my being late was so “strong”, they felt certain I would be properly disciplined at home. In short, he knew my dad was going to kill me, so he decided to give me a break, and not give me detention for skipping.

What a damn sweetie pie.

All I could think was, “I’m dead. That’s it, my life is OVER”. I explained this to the principal. I told him that his hands are not clean… that the certain death I’m facing when I get home today is all his fault. Seriously, I was going to be killed- for real this time.

I had but one option, because facing my father felt suicidal.

I am running away.

Where will I go? No idea. For how long? Long enough for my parents to worry so much about my safety that they stop being angry with me for skipping class with a boy. No clue how long that will take, but that’s how long I’ll be staying away.

So that’s what I did. After school, I wandered around my neighborhood for a while, but decided that was too risky- someone I knew might see me (not that I’d even been gone long enough for anyone to care yet, but still). I needed somewhere to lay low… but I had no idea where people go to do that. Usually when I want to get out of dodge, I just go to my bedroom and close the door. Clearly, that was not going to work today.

That’s when it came to me- THE LIBRARY! Shows what kind of criminal mind I have, right? I’m so dangerous, when I run away I head to library for some extra-curricular reading!

I hung out there until they closed. Lame, I know. It was about 9PM by this time, and I knew it wasn’t safe to go home. Not yet, anyway. 

I started walking again, just wandering around. I realized I was hungry- hadn’t eaten since lunch. When I was planning this running away thing, I didn’t even consider the fact that I may want to eat. I only had some change on me, so I bought what I could afford- a Three Musketeer. Yum.

Finally, after several hours of aimlessly wandering, I just couldn’t take it anymore. It was getting colder outside, and it was dark and scary. I was still hungry, and quite frankly, had stopped giving a damn hours ago about whether my parents were mad at me anymore. I’d take my licks, just as long as I could lay down in my own bed and sleep. Besides, I was no longer convinced that this was a good idea to begin with. It slowly began to dawn on me- now they have TWO reasons to kill me. One for skipping school, the other for running away. Great.

I didn’t want to walk home- I was too tired, and also a little too scared to just show up. What would I say? “Hellooooo! I’m home! Did ya miss me?” I think not. I decided instead to call a friend, and see if her parents would come and get me. I knew they’d call my parents to give them a heads up that I’d been found, so my hope was that they’d chill out a little before I actually walked in the door. I realize as I’m typing this, my reasoning made absolutely no sense, but hell, I was tired! No one makes sense when they’ve been left to their own defenses in the big bad wild (or in this case, the big bad upper-middle class suburbs of the midwest) for too long! 

I was almost to the payphone when a police officer pulled up, rolled down his window, and addressed me by name. Either this dude was psychic, or my parents had notified the cops that I was missing.

My parents WERE worried. They had called the police. I thought I would be relieved to know they cared that much, because that might mean they weren’t too angry. I wasn’t, though. Instead, I felt horrible…  

The officer told me it was almost 5 AM, and that I could either go with him to the station, or let him drop me off at home. I told him to take me home…

When I got there, I begged the officer to come inside with me. I told him I was gonna die if he didn’t… he asked if my parents were going to physically harm me, and surprised he’d ask such a thing, I told him of course not. They were just going to kill me- you know, ground me to my bedroom with no friends, phone or tv for the rest of my life. They were also going to take turns screaming at me, and worse, LECTURING. The officer didn’t seem too concerned. He left me to deal with my parents on my own. Personally, I think he was too scared to face them- hell, I know I was!

As I expected, my parents were more pissed off than I had ever seen them. Eventually, after they yelled for what felt like 3 days, they let me go to bed. They said I could stay home from school… since I would have needed to leave the house right then in order to make it on time. The catch was, they got me a babysitter, since neither of them would be home during the day. They said they couldn’t trust me to stay at home alone, so my mom called a friend of hers who happened to be home and had her come and watch me.

True to form, my parents did ground me for the rest of my life (well, three months, actually- but jeez, that may as well have been forever!). In addition, for the entire duration of my punishment, I was not allowed to stay home alone, under any circumstances. That was worse than any other part of it. 14 years old with a babysitter?

The absolutely inhumane part of it was that whenever my parents couldn’t find a babysitter for me, they would put my two younger (yes, I said YOUNGER) brothers in charge of me. 

Now THAT is cruel and unusual punishment! And I deserved every minute of it.

Posted in C-Haze, Funny, Humor

The Earthquake… Part II (May Wanna Check Out Part I!)

After having to answer to my nine year old for not having earthquake insurance, her little friend (a neighbor kid) stopped by… this is the kid my daughter walks to school with in the mornings. She, like my daughter (and hell, like me too!) was pretty keyed up about this earthquake we’d just had.

She tells The Diva (my daughter), “My mom says God stepped down onto earth this morning, so that’s why the ground was shaking so bad”.

My kid, always the smart one says, “Oh please. That doesn’t even make sense. It’s actually much more scientific than that. You see, all you really have to do is educate yourself about about these things”.

Right- spoken from the mouth of the kid who was (less than an hour ago) running around in circles, arms flailing, yelling at the top of her lungs, “WE’RE GOING TO DIE!!!”

Suddenly she’s Ms. Scientist Lady, ready to educate the masses? Ok, whatever.

We all head out- The Diva’s walking with her friend, I drop my youngest daughter at daycare, and head off to work. I’m secretly wondering about aftershocks, and truth be told, silently obsessing about something I read- Foreshocks. These suckers are scary, so allow me to explain:

Apparently foreshocks are the earthquakes you get BEFORE the real one- the big one- hits. In all my frantic research this morning, I learned scientists can’t tell if a tremor is a foreshock or an actual earthquake until the subsequent tremors occur. If they’re smaller than the original tremor, then they’re aftershocks. If they’re larger, then that means the first quake was a foreshock.

In the 20 minutes it took me to get to work, I managed to work myself into a full blown panic. I was sweating, had butterflies in my stomach… I think I was a little short of breath actually, and shoot- were those chest pains I just felt?!?!

Man, I’m gonna die of a heart attack… it’s not the 10.5 on the richter scale monster size earthquake that I’m convinced is coming momentarily that will kill me. I’m going to literally die of fear!

I was CONVINCED that the 5.2 magnitude quake from this morning was merely a foreshock… that any second now, we were going to get hit with the earthquake of the century. The very first quake that ever broke the richter scale! AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!! (That’s me screaming, by the way)

Yea, yea, I know. I watch too much TV.

So anyway, in spite of my fear, I make it to work, and head inside. Somehow, the morning goes pretty smoothly. I can feel my fear slowly (very slowly) beginning to dissipate. I even manage to crack a smile or two, and begin to think maybe (wasn’t convinced, mind you), just maybe, I was overreacting a tad.

I’m on the phone with a client- one of my company’s largest, pickiest, and most important clients, I might add… when it happened.


My computer screen starts swaying, and my desk, chair, and the very floor I sit on starts to tremble. I instantly burst into tears… palms start sweating, heart revs up into high gear, the whole nine yards. I try desperately to keep control of the call I’m on…

“Sir, can you please give me the district you process out of?”

“Yes- it’s New York”

“Ok, Chicago?”

“No- New York”

“I’m so sorry sir. Did you say Cincinnatti?”

“Look lady, I SAID NEW YORK!!!”

“Sir, I apologize if I seem a little preoccupied. We are in the middle of an earthquake… Hold please, while I dive for cover!!”

I manage to place the customer on hold and immediately begin hyperventilating… I’m praying like hell I can fit underneath my desk.

It’s while I’m attempting to squeeze up under there, when suddenly, it stops. No more trembling. No more shaking. Thank you Jesus!!

My supervisor, who had been observing my little breakdown (without offering assistance, I might add)suggested I pick up the phone and finish the call I was on. Hell, I’m glad she reminded me, cuz just that quick, I’d forgotten I had a customer on the phone at all.

Where did he say he processes out of? Seattle?

I was able to complete the call, but not before getting a hug from my boss. I needed it, and after the morning I’d had, I deserved it too.

Thankfully, I have felt no more tremors today…

Praise the Lord, people. Praise the Lord.

Posted in C-Haze, Funny, Humor

The Earthquake… Part 1

At 4:39 AM I was awaken by… what? Seems there was a loud noise, like a train derailing or something… did I dream it? Wait- why is my bed shaking? Then I realize, it isn’t just my bed, it’s my whole house! What the hell? Are we under attack?!?!

Thus, my day began.

I hopped out of bed and turned on the TV. I didn’t know what was going on, but if I was gonna die, I was gonna die informed… not asleep, oblivious to what’s happening. I’m kinda morbid that way. They were breaking in on all the middle of the night/super-early infomercials…


Huh? We had an earthquake? Crap! What the hell does one do during (or by this point, after) an earthquake? I was going through my mental catalogue of emergency protocols… Let’s see, in a hurricane, you should go to the basement… or wait- isn’t that what you do for a tornado? Shoot! I can’t remember! Oh well, who cares? This isn’t a hurricane OR a tornado! It’s an EARTHQUAKE!!! I think I remember something about a doorway. Or is it a doorknob? Crap again. I know it has something to do with a door…

Finally admitting that I was as clueless as they come, I went to FEMA’s website to learn what in the world I’m supposed to do. I mean, yea, it’s too late to do much NOW, but hey, these things tend to come back or something, right? I wasn’t sure, but if we had a repeat episode, I was going to be ready this time!

I proceeded to learn everything about earthquakes. I learned, for example, that I live pretty close to the larges fault line in the nation. Never really knew that. I live in Missouri, for God’s sake, not California. Apparently this thing could blow at any time, and once it does, I’m pretty sure we’re all doomed. Great. Oh- and emergency protocol is to stand in a doorway, not twist a doorknob or whatever, like I was originally thinking.

Hey, wait a minute. Can I use this as an excuse to work from home today? It only took a minute to realize that no, this thing wasn’t nearly exciting enough to qualify me for a stay-at-home day. Oh well.

Seems like things calmed down pretty quickly, and no major damage was reported anywhere. No schools were closed either, so I figured none of us, my daughters nor I, had much of an excuse to stay home. Drats.

I go upstairs to wake my oldest daughter so she can get ready for school. She has a bad habit of NOT getting up when I need her to, so this time, I decided to use a new tactic- shock value. I ran in her room and said loudly, “Get up! Hey- did you feel the earthquake this morning? Can you believe it? We had an earthquake!!”

Just as I’d hoped, The Diva jumps up immediately. Unfortunately, I forgot one important thing- she is the biggest drama queen on earth. No idea where she gets it from (alright, alright, she may have inherited a TEENY bit of it from me). So not only does she jump up, but she begins running around the room, in circles, arms waving, screaming, “WE’RE GONNA DIE!!! IT’S AN EARTHQUAKE!!! OH NO! OH NO! OH NO!”

She has completely lost her mind! At first, I just stared at her, amazed. Wow. Maybe I should invent natural disasters EVERY morning! Clearly, such things wake her ass right up!

Eventually, I started worrying about our neighbors… she was THAT loud. I told her to calm down, and explained (as if I hadn’t been tempted to run screaming in fear myself a mere hour ago), that there is nothing to be afraid of. I reminded her that we HAD an earthquake, as in past tense, and that there is no danger to any of us at this point. Wonderful mommy that I am, I told her that the best way to lessen our fears is to educate ourselves. We went downstairs, and I let her watch the news with me.

She calmed down almost immediately, and seemed really interested in everything they were saying on TV. She paid very close attention when they explained what an aftershock is, and that while they will likely occur, they will be less severe than the original quake had been. She learned all about emergency procedures, much like I had earlier.

She also learned about Earthquake Insurance.

She gets this “I’m a super-smart brainiac” look on her face and turns to me.

“Do we have Earthquake Insurance?”

So I say, “Uh… what do you know about insurance, kid?”

She says, “I know if we don’t have it, and have another earthquake, and that TV falls off the TV stand, you probably can’t afford to replace it”

Smart ass kid. Can’t “afford” to replace it?!?! Where does she get this stuff?

I hate it when she’s right. I mean really- what would I do without VH1? I’d die for sure- immediately.

To Be Continued…

Posted in C-Haze, Funny, Humor

I Am Woman! Here Me… Meow?

If I’m completely honest with myself, I will admit that there are certain things about being married that I definitely miss. Don’t misunderstand- I do not miss HIM at all- but there were certain things that I didn’t have to do when the ex was still the hubby. Almost a year and a half later, I still scramble to get them done- and that’s assuming I even know how.
For example, I hate lightbulbs. Especially lightbulbs that are covered by cute little light fixtures that need dismantling in order to change them.In the eight years I was married, I cannot recall one time that I had to change a lightbulb. 

So the other day, I’m dropping my oldest daughter off at school. I’m reminding her about her lunch money, who’s picking her up after school, what we have planned for the weekend… all the while sipping on my coffee, talking on my cell phone, and trying to convince my 2 year old (who’s sitting in the back) to stop kicking my chair. My oldest daughter is successful in getting out of the car, and as I’m pulling off, mommy dearest (that’s me) slams into the curb.
From that point on, my car doesn’t drive right- I’m sure I need an alignment (don’t know what the hell that is, but I’ve heard the term used in situations like this- I figure my car is now a candidate). If I want to drive straight I have to cock the wheel to the right a little… and when I’m moving, the car shakes a lot.Whatever- it still drives, right?
Yet another thing that goes on the list of shit to be dealt with… eventually.So one morning (Saturday) while the kids are at their dad’s house, another one of my friends call me. Seems he hurt his leg while working out, and can’t even move it enough to drive. He needs to get to the bank before noon, and wants to know if I’ll give him a ride. Of course I will. 

I’m a great friend, by the way.
So off I go, and pick him up. As we’re driving, he tells me my car’s riding funny. Well, duh. I cheerfully explain what happened at my daughter’s school, with the curb. I even told him that I am certain I need an alignment (didn’t share that I don’t even know what that is. That, folks, stays between us).
He disagrees. I apparently don’t need an alignment. Instead, I seem to have something (and I’m positive this is a technical term) called a “titty” in my tire.Well what the hell does he know? He’s just a man. Plus, he can’t move his leg. Clearly, he’s not that smart anyway.So I roll my eyes, tell him to shut up, take him to the bank, then drop him back off at his place. He leaves me with this warning- “not only do you have a titty in that tire- but it’s bald. The threads are showing. You need a new tire, otherwise you’re going to have a blow out”.I figure, what the hell does he know? I’ve already diagnosed the problem. It is not a titty. That’s a female body part, not a car issue. MY problem is that I need an alignment. Silly man.
So I head home, case closed. Or so I thought.When I got home, I couldn’t get the term “titty” out of my head… so to aleviate my fears, I take a peek at my tire.OMG, there are THREADS- little silver ones- poking out! Dammit, that can’t be good, right? I reluctantly realize, my friend is right.

Where the hell’s my friends when I need them?? I hop in my car, as clearly, the only responsible thing to do is to get a brand new tire, right?

I took my butt to the tire place (and don’t you worry, folks- I was MORE than prepared for those jerks to tell my I need to top off my blinker fluid. They try to screw me, on account of my being female. Little did they know, I JUST had my blinker fluid topped off at my last oil change. My turn signals were working just fine, thank you (hee hee)) and had my tire changed. The difference was miraculous. Seriously. When I got in my car, it drove BEAUTIFULLY!! Who knew that the problem is actually a titty?!?! I don’t need an alignment after all (whatever that is)!!

So I drive home, very proud. I don’t need no stinkin’ man. I can get a new tire all by my self, thank you very much!


Once home, I walk inside my house, check my e-mail, and lay down on the couch for the Law and Order: SVU marathon.

I’ve had a long day- having major work done on my car, and all- so I promptly fall asleep.

BANG, BANG, BANG on my sliding glass door is what wakes me up. I jump off the couch… “what the…???”

Standing outside my door is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not kiddin’ y’all. This man is gorgeous. Sucks for me, because I’m in sweatpants- and I have chicken hair, on account of I’ve been snoozin’ on my couch for the last 2 hours.

I answer the door, very curious as to what this magnificent specimen could want with me…

“Hey lady… just thought you should know- your car’s been runnin’ an awfully long time”

“I saw you when you pulled up- thought you must be comin’ right back out… but it’s been awhile, and your car’s still runnin'”.

I left my car running- in my own parking lot- for two hours.

I quit. I’m gettin’ married again.



Posted in C-Haze, Funny, Humor, Memories, Nostalgia

My First Felony… And The L Word

I was 12 years old, in junior high school. I was in 7th grade, and back then junior high was 7th through 9th grade.

I was the shit because my boyfriend was an older man- a 9th grader (can I just say, as a mother, 12 year olds should never have boyfriends! It ought to be outlawed!).My boyfriend got this great idea- let’s skip school!! I knew my parents would kill me, but so what? I’d been killed before.
At this point, I had been grounded so many times that my sentences were running both concurrently and consecutively. My mother had started to run out of things to ground me from, and recently, out of desperation, had grounded me from my own privacy.
How’d she do that? Well, she removed my bedroom door- took it right off its hinges.
So I’m thinking, what do I have to lose? Let’s do it!

The plan was this- my boyfriend, his best friend (also a 9th grader), his girlfriend and I would skip the last 2 periods of class on Friday. My boyfriend said his house was only a 10 minute walk from the school, so that’s where we decided we’d be going (I’d never been to his house- I said I was the shit for having an older boyfriend- never claimed that I wasn’t a total prude though).

I made it perfectly clear- I HAVE to be back at school in time for the final bell of the day to ring. Little hellion that I was, my mother was picking me up for ballet class that evening. May sound lame to some of you, but I just COULDN’T miss ballet… I’d scored an awesome part in the Nutcracker that year and didn’t want to miss my rehearsal!
So the plan was laid out, and all was set.
Friday finally arrived, and little wimp that she is, the girlfriend of my boyfriend’s best friend (got that?!?!) chickened out on us. Apparently she hadn’t been killed by her parents nearly as often as I had, and she was scared. The 3 of us were not to be deterred, told her to suit herself, and off we went…
We started walking, spirits high… we were walking down a nice residential street, the weather was nice, the trees, plants and flowers in people’s yards were gorgeous… Life was good.
So again, we’re walking. And walking. And walking. And then we walked some more.
Finally, I comment about how as nice as this walk has been, it sure does feel like we’ve been at it for a while! I was assured that we were almost there, and in fact still had plenty of time. I guess my signature Swatch watch was broken because I believed them- no questions asked.

Eventually, after what seems like 10 days, not the promised 10 minutes, we arrive. I’m exhausted, and that air that had seemed so nice a short time before had begun to stifle me. I was sweaty, I was out of breath, and I’m sure I was generally unattractive… but I was too tired to care.

We walked into my boyfriend’s kitchen, I dropped my bookbag on the floor, and I help myself to a glass of water. I’m greedily guzzling my second glass when I happen to glance at the clock on the wall… and drop my glass on the floor in shock.

We had been walking almost 2 hours! I had 10 minutes to get back to the school…

Pure panic set in. I was running around the house yelling at the top of my lungs, “OH MY GOD!! I’M DEAD!! THEY’RE GOING TO KILL ME (THEY, meaning my parents of course- I know you didn’t believe that earlier shit about not being afraid of them killing me- that was just talk. I was only unafraid of them when I felt confident I wouldn’t get caught- clearly, this situation was CODE RED)!!”

My boyfriend, with his lame, unhelpful ass, shrugs his shoulders and says, “I’m really sorry… I thought the walk was a lot shorter. I guess you’re going to have to call them to come get you”.

WHAT?!?! Unacceptable!!

I quickly started trying to come up with a plan… I was running through the house, looking for something- ANYTHING that would help me get out of this situation.

At one point, I seriously considered stabbing myself in the eye. How can my parents be angry with me if I have blood gushing out of my beautiful eyes?

No, that wouldn’t work… my parents are ruthless, man. Blood, schmood. They wouldn’t care, and I’d still be killed by them. I wasn’t even certain they’d wait for me to stop bleeding first, and then where would I be? Dead, with no eyes. They are seriously hardcore.

Finally, I saw it. My saving grace. As soon as I laid eyes on it I knew I was going to get away with this (thank God I didn’t stab myself after all- I wouldn’t have been able to see the thing that was going to save my precious life).

A single key. A beautiful, shiny, silver, single key.

I smiled sweetly, and turned to my boyfriend.

“What’s that key for?”

“Oh that? It’s nothing that will help us today… it’s my mom’s spare key to the Mercedes. It’s in the garage because she’s on a business trip”

Oh sweet Jesus- sweet heavenly Jesus, I am saved.

I grabbed the key and ran out the side door to the garage.

I hop into the car, and stick the key in the ignition. I impatiently wait on my boyfriend and his friend to join me. The big chickens were still in the kitchen, terrified of what I was about to do.

I explained as nicely as possible to my boyfriend that he better get his ass in the car- NOW. I had to get back to the school, and I only had a few short minutes left to get there. He could either get in the care willingly, or I’d have no choice but to drag his butt in there.

You see, he HAD to accompany me. How the heck was the mercedes going to get back to his garage after I got to school?

As he was nervously getting into the car, buckling his seatbelt (at my insistance- no need to be unsafe, right? Riding in a car with no seatbelt is just crazy!), another thought came to me. I couldn’t possibly drive to the school, on account of I was only 12!! That would raise a few eyebrows if I happened to be seen.

I decided to drive myself to the convenient store right up the street from the school, and walk from there to the school itself. With any luck at all, my mom would be a couple minutes late picking me up (like she usually was), and by the time she got there, I’d be sitting there on the front steps waiting for her like the sweet angel I am.


I congratulated myself on my brilliant plan, my awesome quick-thinking skills the whole way there. Miraculously, I arrived without crashing the vehicle, thought I gotta tell ya it was kind of close- what with that damn school bus getting my way- it almost got hit.

Finally, I arrived at the convenience store and dropped myself off- only about 15 minutes late. As my boyfriend took over the driver’s side of the Mercedes and pulled off, I started running back towards the school.

I was soooo close… almost there… and shit. I see my mom’s minivan pulling out of the parking lot. Of all days to be on time, she had to pick this one?!?! I pick up my speed, and start waving at the van- “Wait!! I’m here!!”

She sees me and stops, waiting for me to get in.

I know what you’re thinking- I’m caught, right? If you think so, you don’t know me very well…
My mom was definitely annoyed, as she’d been circling around the parking lot looking for me. Seeing me run up the street from the direction of the convenience store, she had a couple of questions. Mainly, “Where the hell were you?” followed by, “Where are your books?”

Shit. I’d left my bookbag at my boyfriend’s house!

I climbed into the minivan, mumbling something about how my locker had jammed, and that’s why I didn’t have my books- doesn’t matter, no homework anyway (or so I claimed). I then made some lame ass excuse up about how my friend wanted me to walk her home from school because walking by herself was too scary (you know, in the big bad suburbs of Charlotte and all). I calmly explained to my mother- “That’s why you saw me running back to school- I had left for a minute to walk my friend home”.


My mom didn’t believe me- I could tell by the look on her face that she knew I was full of shit. But hey, she couldn’t prove it, so she didn’t really have cause to kill me. You know, probable cause- it’s my constitutional right.

Off we go to ballet class, where I performed brilliantly, of course. I even had the presence of mind to call my boyfriend during our break and threaten to kill him if he didn’t remember to bring my bookbag to school on Monday.

He was so impressed with my earlier driving demonstration that he even said (GASP) the “L” word- as in, “I love you” for the first time before hanging up. See, that’s how cold I was! I had just threatened the boy’s LIFE and he still felt the need to profess his undying love for me.

Alright, so you wanna know how I got caught?

Remember my boyfriend’s best friend’s girlfriend (got that?!?!)? Well, she apparently got an attack of conscience. While we were skipping class, she was in the school guidance counselor’s office ratting us out.

Her excuse? “I just had to tell someone… she PROMISED she’d keep it confidential!!”
Well, promise or not, I got my ass hauled to the office first thing Monday morning. The principle told me she was calling my dad at work.

Yep, my parents killed me that day. Apparently, what I had considered Pure Genius was actually called Grand Theft Auto. Additionally, I learned it’s a felony.

Who knew?!?!