-----Age: 2 minutes old
Doctor: "Congratulations, its a girl!"
The Crazylady: "No its not."
(and it begins)
-----Age: 14 days old
The Crazylady forgot my name. Here's the kicker. She had a deal with my dad that if any of their kids turned out to be boys, he got to name them, if any of their kids turned out to be girls, she got to name them. So not only had she been calling me by it for two weeks, she had been plotting my name for 4 years by this point. She spent the whole day at home saying girls names to me and hoping I would respond to one like a stray puppy. ("Amy?" no "Rebecca?" no "Sara?" no) and anxiously waiting for my dad to get done hawking used cars so she could ask him what the hell she named me. Can you feel the love yet?
----Age: 5 years old
The Crazylady was out on a date and left us with a baby sitter. This baby sitter was a bit of a free spirit (read: she was high) and decided to teach us how to make friendship bracelets. Being the, um, unique child that I was, I decided to make mine out of human hair. But not just any human would do-- it had to be my hair. But once I started cutting I just couldn't stop. It just felt so good! At one point I had a Lifetime Movie moment where I looked up at the mirror and stared in shock at what I had done while grasping handfulls of hair. The results were something similar to this:
I was immediately overcome with fear of the wooden spoon that my mother kept in her purse for small offenses like saying the word "crap." If she used that for something so tiny what was she going to do when she saw me looking like I had just gone to the same hairstylist as Christian Siriano? Then my puny little child's brain thought this up: If I just hide the hair trimmings, no one will EVER know what I have done. But hiding the hair in one place just wasn't going to cut it (no pun intended), I had to scatter the hair about.
A few examples of where I hid my hair:
1. Under the couch cushions
2. In a pair of my mother's shoes
3. Underneath the mousepad of our Acer computer
4. In between the books on my bookshelf
My mother shrieked when she saw me and I knew the jig was up. She put me straight in the car and drove me to a Sally's Haircutters (they used to cut my hair, the Geek's hair, and my Asshole Brother's hair all for the bargain price of $10.99 - that's how you know it was quality. That translates into a $3.66 haircut for those of you who aren't math majors). I think she might have even been crying when she told the lady to do "whatever you can to make it look she's not the product of an Ewok and a rooster."
Now, I'm not saying the hairstylist was on crack or anything, it's not like she had a lot to work with, but I also might BE saying that she got her cosmetology licence from a man in a van in a dark alley. Because this is pretty much the EXACT haircut she gave me except that on the right hand side the bangs were about a quarter of an inch long.
Why was my mother so upset? I mean all kids do stupid things right?
MY FIRST SCHOOL PICTURES EVER WERE THE NEXT DAY.
-----Age: 8 years
Me and my Asshole Brother decided to go out on some land owned by the utility company and start a small fire. I don't really feel like this story needs any elaboration. We started a freaking fire. My mom had to pay the volunteer fire department $300 to come and put it out.
----Age: 16 years
I managed to receive 3 speeding tickets in a 2 month period. Two of them were within a week. I also backed into a woman at a stop sign within the same month. I know that sounds damn near impossible, but I've always been one to think outside the box. As a result my entire family was dropped from our insurance. But I didn't stop there, I went on to get a total of 7 tickets in the next 3 years. Please note that because of my pure genius, not a single one of these is on my record. I also know every answer to every question about Defensive Driving ever.
----Age: 21 years
Although we have a pretty strict don't ask, don't tell policy, I am fairly certain that the Crazylady is well aware that I am a lush. She knows I drink copiously and I think the jig is up when it comes to my ahem, chastity thanks to this little conversation I had with her one time when I was drunk:
Me : I am really excited about moving in with [Nouns] and [GP].
Crazylady: Really? Why?
Me: I don't know, I've just never really lived with girls before. It's going to be fun.
Crazylady: What do you mean? You lived in the sorority house for 2 years.
*Note: I had to bold that statement as it was the most rediculous thing I could have said at that exact moment. I have never explicitly told my mother this, but I lived with my ex-boyfriend for 3 years while she paid for me to live in the sorority house and a dorm.
Me: Uh... yeah, I did? I mean I did. But, it's uh... different. You know, uhm different.
Crazylady: (I can only speculate here, but I am fairly certain that she rolled her eyes and said) riiiiiiiiiiight.
-----Age: 22 years
Crazylady called me this year and told me that by growing up (and therefore no longer being a dependant) I had CAUSED her to have to pay taxes instead of getting a refund. I kindly reminded her that my not being a dependent meant that she wasn't paying for school, rent, gas, car problems, and various other expenses and therefore was actually saving thousands upon thousands of dollars. It seemed like this was the first time this had ever dawned on her. But in true Crazylady fashion she didn't care at all and instead was still upset about the $281.97 that she had to send Uncle Sam because of my inconsiderate ass.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!
THANKS FOR LOVING ME EVEN THOUGH I SCREW EVERYTHING UP!
**Please note, there are many, MANY other things I did to truly disgrace my mother (deciding to work for my dad, not attending church for over 4 years, telling her that stirrup pants are no longer in style, etc.) but if I wrote about them all, this blog would be longer and more painful than the movie A League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.
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