friend home and went upstairs to find a movie to watch. sure, you may have been up there a little longer than necessary, but you're eighteen and you went to church with him when you were four and you don't even like him like that, he has a beard. it was more than a little embarrassing to have to rush down the stairs to find your father already sitting back on the couch, and to have him get back up and ask what you two were doing up there and then to pat you on the shoulder with that weird think-they-know-what's-what parent smile and tell you it's fine. remember how you incredulously defended that, lord, just because a boy and a girl are alone together in a room with a bed does not mean they are going to hump like a conjugal visit, and besides, he's just a friend that you've sort of hung out with nearly every day for three weeks and he's nice and he goes to community college and you'd NEVER, you're a responsible young woman who knows her boundaries? it felt righteous, didn't it, to clutch your pearls and be shocked that your own father could conceive the notion that you were some irresponsible, desperate harlot and to tell him off and then go back upstairs and finish the bowl full of weed your friend was keeping warm for you. so righteous.
people might relate to the time you fell into a fire and turned your fingers into bacon. wasn't that a proud moment? at a party where you only knew the hostess and one other girl. that party should have been the hint to stop smoking pot and hookah and to not do shots of jack, even though you became extremely popular after they pulled you out. her mom put it well, didn't she?
"At least you didn't pee yourself, baby, just be glad for that."
and she was right, at least you didn't pee. chalk it up as a memorable experience that you can always bring back when you fall down on concrete or up the stairs or onto a bus load of Koreans who sit back and watch you roll down the aisle; at least it wasn't fire.
but god, what're the odds, right? it wasn't even an open fire, it was in one of those classy wrought-iron cages, so you have a symmetrical scar to remind you of how coordinated you are. Grace is your middle name, after all. figures the most attractive of her male friends were there, and that you'd never met a single one of them. figures, that you become That Girl. at least telling the story later, to people you
people might relate to the time you fell into a fire and turned your fingers into bacon. wasn't that a proud moment? at a party where you only knew the hostess and one other girl. that party should have been the hint to stop smoking pot and hookah and to not do shots of jack, even though you became extremely popular after they pulled you out. her mom put it well, didn't she?
"At least you didn't pee yourself, baby, just be glad for that."
and she was right, at least you didn't pee. chalk it up as a memorable experience that you can always bring back when you fall down on concrete or up the stairs or onto a bus load of Koreans who sit back and watch you roll down the aisle; at least it wasn't fire.
but god, what're the odds, right? it wasn't even an open fire, it was in one of those classy wrought-iron cages, so you have a symmetrical scar to remind you of how coordinated you are. Grace is your middle name, after all. figures the most attractive of her male friends were there, and that you'd never met a single one of them. figures, that you become That Girl. at least telling the story later, to people you
