Everyone needs a fleet of flying monkeys to rip the stuffing out of the annoying people in their lives
— Laura
The other day I was over at Aggie Sprite’s Sithy Things and Aggie wrote about doing some back-to-school shopping with her kids. One of her kids wanted stuff to decorate their locker and Aggie had this pic up:
This locker is more stylish than my house.
Aggie refers to back-to-school shopping as “The Endtimes” and reading this and seeing the locker brought back a school locker memory of my own.
I was a freshman in high school and I was madly in love with a senior basketball star named Mike Flora. Mike barely knew I was alive, and to be honest, I’m pretty sure he thought I was Special Ed because every time I passed him in the halls, and I would make certain I’d pass him quit often, (we’re talking Stalker Level III here people!) I would make dreamy doe eyes at him which probably looked more like I had some kind neurological disorder.
Anyway, we lived in a small town that loved their basketball and with Mike being a basketball star, his and the rest of the team’s photos were in the local newspaper quite frequently. I cut photos with Mike in them out and wallpapered my locker. Of course, I left some of the other players in the picture too because I didn’t want it to be so obvious that it was an Altar of Love and have my insanity made public. So I decorated my locker with pictures of Mike, and some other face-less dudes in shorts, and I secretly swore I’d love him until the end of time.
The end of time came mid-semester when I “by chance” showed up in his study hall and saw him making out with the freshman WHORE Judy Randall. I was crushed. I tore down all the photos in my locker, but kept them so I could use them in either a voodoo revenge DIE, MOTHERFUCKER! ritual or an attraction YOU WILL LOVE ME AND NOT EVEN KNOW WHY! ritual. Delivering justice to the WHORE Judy Randall was much easier to decide. Judy the WHORE suffered a sprained ankle injury during a basketball game in freshman PE class when I volunteered to guard her. BAM! “Oh, I didn’t see you or your WHORE foot there when I was running full speed for that ball. Umm, sorry?”
Years later I went out with Mike Flora, but by then I just wasn’t feeling it. But that’s not even relevant to this story. What is relevant is that I learned two of life’s most important lessons that semester of my freshman year, things that I had forgotten until now. One is never lust after someone in silence- use voodoo straight off, and the other is WHORES have weak ankles.
P.S. Now that these memories have all come flooding back, I have a feeling there’s gonna be a rash of bitches on crutches all up in my world.
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57 Responses to My teen years wouldn’t have been filled with so much angst if I could have gotten more hair and nail clippings.
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LMAO! I bet there’s going to be a shortage of crutches in Columbia! The Bunch O’Bitches better stock up! LOL!
Girl, Hawthorn’s better stock up on rentals.
I can think of several people I’d like to see on “CRUTCHES”.Thanks for the idea.
You’re welcome.
High School WHORES… hmmm…I dont think we thought of ourselves as WHORES. I think we just had over active libidos. What a great time!
For some more than others.
I had a situation something like that as well. High school was an extreamly painful time in a lot of lives. When I went to my 30 year reunion I was SHOCKED at the people there that were NOTHING like they were in HS. NOTHING!!!! but alas I still hated them for the same reasons…..
Were they WHORES?
Voodoo is some powerful Juju for sure.
For reals.
Well, if the truth was known, he was only looking for some strange and would have crushed your heart like a tomato under a forklift.
Damned if that doesn’t sound like some good lyrics for a Country and Western song. I’ll add to the lyrics, send them to Taylor Swift and she can sing them at the next Kennedy bash she crashes.
Ha! That girl is always getting her tomater heart smashed isn’t she? She needs to learn some DIE, MOTHERFUCKER voodoo.
Terrible, just terrible. That thing with the cheerleader. Now she’s a Federal Prosecuter, and keeps after my ass asking why, why, why, you son of a bitch, why didn’t you ask me out in High School? Now here’s a bit of malicous prosecution. Ah, she was beautiful then, but my GF then was even beautifuller. But SHE didn’t go to law school. Now I live in five different cities under eight different names, and still have to dodge the subpoenas.
Haha! But you can’t run from voodoo. I mean unless you’re naked under a full moon holding a dead chicken chanting a protection spell. Perhaps I said too much…
I love your childhood stories! You sure you didnt hold the foot down whilst you plowed into her?
Shhhh. Umm, did you sit behind me in Trig Class or something?
I love how good at voodoo you are.
I went to Hubby’s brother’s wedding on Saturday. And who was the flower girl? She was the daughter of my high school ex boyfriend. Small town. Two degrees of separation between every person. Anyway. It was awkward/nice to see him.
You should have went “Pssst.. little girl. I saw your daddy all naked with his noodle out before.” You know, just for the hell of it.
note to self…. DO NOT EAT Lucky Charms whilst reading laura’s comments!
School Lockers. My memory is when my friends filled my entiere locker with Play Girl photos and being the blonde that I am opened my locker and looked away, probably to watch Jay Halla walk down the hall, while holding the door open for all the teenage world to see the display of naked men. I got my friend back years later when I came across one of the pictures in an old year book and mailed it to her. She unexpectedly opened the letter in a room full of business colleagues and that particular picture fell out for all to see. Paybacks can come at anytime, when you least expect it, even 23 years later. BWAHHAAAHHAA!
Haha!
A dish best served cold.
Judy still around? Do you have her number?
WHORE monger!
Everyone needs a hobby.
Sure ’nuff.
It’s reassuring to know you’ve mellowed a bit with the years. Ha!
I really have! Well, sorta.
Now, if you’ve been practicing, you can voodoo the bitches onto crutches–perfect alibi.
Failing that, you can just have Jack chase them into traffic–almost perfect alibi.
Disguise him as someone else’s dog–back to perfect.
You’re my new life coach!
And here I spent all my time wishing a VD upon those whores. If I had only known about their weak ankles…
Well, I like to keep y’all informed as much as possible.
Important Safety Tip:
VD: BAD
Broken Ankles: NOT BAD. At least, not communicable.
Unless it’s ankle rabies.
Being a Whore Monger, I’d probably take the chance. Actually, Whore Monger Emeritus. At my age, all I can really do is remember. And smile.
Oh the hearts you musts broke along the way. I mean if WHORES had hearts.
Damn…do you have ANY idea how many of the “Inner Circle” WHORES were on crutches while I was in HS???
NOW everything makes sense!!
Also, thanks for the linkie love, and also again, “Bitch on a Crutch” sounds like a great girlie drink.
You need to concoct it and we’ll advertise it! HA!
One question. . . Are the ankles weak only during basketball or at all times?
I don’t know of any whores right now but I remember a few from high school that could still use a “broke” ankle. I’m not playing any basketball though.
I think they stay weak.
Love the story. Whores do have weak ankles from those chunky ass, acrylic stripper heals and laying on their backs all day. High school whores are the worst though. They are show cheap and untalented!
Now stepping up to the soap box to deliver my 2 cents: Not all whores are in deed whores. Girls hated me so much they christened me with the name. However, I had one boyfriend in high school and we just celebrated our 24th anniversary together. Shut up Bitches!!!
If you didn’t deserve the title WHORE then the WHORES that called you that needed voodooed.
I think too a lot of WHORES ankles are weak from being behind their ears so much.
Dayum. I never want to end up on your badside. Remember Laura, I raise goats.
Then you will always be on my good side.
Meanwhile, 6 or 7 guys ( and probably 1 or 2 girls!) you didn’t know existed were making lovey eyes at you as you passed them in the halls.
Yeah, while planning my murder. Ha!
If their ankles were strong, they would be able to stand upright, thereby negating the lying on their backs all day and no longer being whores. I see how you’ve scienced this whole thing out. Mad respect.
I’m a WHORE scientist..wait, what?
Decorating wasn’t an option my high school years. Had to share the locker with 2 other girls. So basically my high school years having to haul ALL my books daily and walk 4 miles to and from school is why I had to have back surgery. FML
Share? That sucks.
I wanted to be a ho, but I was too damn shy and self-conscious. Ugh. If only I had known how frickin awesome I was back then, and how much POWER girls had over boys. Mwwahaahaaa! I would have been even worse than I was. It’s probably better that I didn’t have a clue.
My sister, on the other hand, got the nickname “Manimal”. I wonder how.
Youth is truly wasted on the young.
I had to wait until later in life to become a WHORE. Ha!
http://dog-shaming.com/
Not that Jack has anything to be shamed for(that I am aware of), but I thought you might like the site.
Happy Friday!
And that nice locker makes me want to go back to school.
HA! I think I’m going to shame them all! Ha!
Does that locker look freakishly small? How on earth could anyone stuff a giant winter coat, et al into it?? Are the lockers tiny since you don’t need massive winter gear down south?
I don’t know where that pic was taken, but these folks around here wear winter parkas if it gets down to 60 degrees.
Laura, you need to start teaching a class :
“HS Whore Management 101″.
And, not that you’d Want to, but how do you save a HS whore from drowning ?
*
Take your foot off her head.
Ha! Okay, that’s a good one.