I'm your turbo lover...I want you, I want you bad!
Ok I couldn't type that without laughing like a damn fool. My bestie will know why. I'm not sure if she'll remember the "turbo lover" but she will definitely know the "I want you" nonsense.
As I embark on a new chapter in my life I'm left feeling a tad bit vulnerable and somewhat out of the loop when it comes to members of the opposite sex. For the record, I've not exactly been very smooth in that department to begin with. Honestly, I'm surprised I've added any notches to my belt with the down-right tomfoolery that has been my dating experience.
Let me start way back in elementary school when I had a crush on a certain bad-boy who's name I still remember but just don't have it in me to embarrass myself or him in the event that he's recognized by one of my many followers (you can stop laughing). So I thought, (let's call him "Michael") was cute and was hoping he would notice that almost every Friday I was allowed to wear my cheerleader uniform to school. Why we had cheerleaders is a mystery to me. Did we have a team to cheer for? Or did we just cheer for school spirit? And why the hell was I on the squad? I was also on the dance team! We had a damn dance team! I remember performing at a local park thinking I was all that with my knee high nylon socks and red fringe costume!
Ok, back to the dude...I remember a kickball game, it had rained the night before and the red-orange sand was still wet. I was up to kick and definitely not dressed for the occasion. I was sporting a pair of beige corduroy pants, yellow ruffled socks and a pair of brown leather dress shoes I remember my mom buying for me at La Feria on Military Dr. You south-siders reading this know what I'm talking about. I'm sure my blouse must have had some yellow print on it because my mother would not have allowed me to leave the house looking like an "orphan" as she always put it. So the "pitcher" sends down the first ball, I rev up to kick it and with all the force my elementary school body can muster, I kick and my brown shoe goes flying. What a moron! Oh, but it gets better. Second "pitch" comes rolling and bumping down the way, I kick and keep my shoe on this time. The ball gets passed the pitcher but someone manages to pick it up and send it flying to first base. My crush catches it as I am literally one wet sock away from the base. He stands at the base, I have too much momentum to stop that quickly and I plow right into him. He falls back with the ball clutched to his chest and I'm out. Moral of this story...elementary boys don't crush on the girl who nearly knocked the wind out of them during a kickball game.
Same school, different year and I'm still rocking a uniform of some kind or another. The boy is "Joe" and he is the cutest guy in 5th grade and has the best hair too. Rumor has it he likes me and well I'm okay with that. Yes, I'm giddy, giggly and all the other nonsense a 5th grade girl can be. But it's "Tommy" who sends me a Valentine-gram that year. You see, we have a newsletter that goes out to the entire school and on Valentine's Day (the worst fu**ing holiday ever, by the way) people from all over the campus get to check out dedicated songs on this love-filled day! (What-the-fu**-ever Man!) So I buy the Valentine edition, hot off the press, sniffing the mimeograph ink fumes, to see if "Joe" has dedicated a romantic tune like "Private Eyes" by Hall and Oates, "Do You Believe in Love" by Huey Lewis or maybe even "Open Arms" by Journey...WRONG! Oh wait, I see something in the middle of the page...To: Me From: "Tommy" Song: Turbo Lover. Turbo Lover!? My 5th grade self did not know that song! And why, why did "Tommy" dedicate a song to me?! "Tommy" who always looked high and like he didn't wash his long, frizzy hair. "Tommy" who wore a black leather vest and Vans...what kid wears a black leather vest and looks stoned...in 5th grade? Moral of this story: 5th grade is an awkward year!
Middle school, high school and college will have to be shared in another blog...
As I embark on a new chapter in my life I'm left feeling a tad bit vulnerable and somewhat out of the loop when it comes to members of the opposite sex. For the record, I've not exactly been very smooth in that department to begin with. Honestly, I'm surprised I've added any notches to my belt with the down-right tomfoolery that has been my dating experience.
Let me start way back in elementary school when I had a crush on a certain bad-boy who's name I still remember but just don't have it in me to embarrass myself or him in the event that he's recognized by one of my many followers (you can stop laughing). So I thought, (let's call him "Michael") was cute and was hoping he would notice that almost every Friday I was allowed to wear my cheerleader uniform to school. Why we had cheerleaders is a mystery to me. Did we have a team to cheer for? Or did we just cheer for school spirit? And why the hell was I on the squad? I was also on the dance team! We had a damn dance team! I remember performing at a local park thinking I was all that with my knee high nylon socks and red fringe costume!
Ok, back to the dude...I remember a kickball game, it had rained the night before and the red-orange sand was still wet. I was up to kick and definitely not dressed for the occasion. I was sporting a pair of beige corduroy pants, yellow ruffled socks and a pair of brown leather dress shoes I remember my mom buying for me at La Feria on Military Dr. You south-siders reading this know what I'm talking about. I'm sure my blouse must have had some yellow print on it because my mother would not have allowed me to leave the house looking like an "orphan" as she always put it. So the "pitcher" sends down the first ball, I rev up to kick it and with all the force my elementary school body can muster, I kick and my brown shoe goes flying. What a moron! Oh, but it gets better. Second "pitch" comes rolling and bumping down the way, I kick and keep my shoe on this time. The ball gets passed the pitcher but someone manages to pick it up and send it flying to first base. My crush catches it as I am literally one wet sock away from the base. He stands at the base, I have too much momentum to stop that quickly and I plow right into him. He falls back with the ball clutched to his chest and I'm out. Moral of this story...elementary boys don't crush on the girl who nearly knocked the wind out of them during a kickball game.
Same school, different year and I'm still rocking a uniform of some kind or another. The boy is "Joe" and he is the cutest guy in 5th grade and has the best hair too. Rumor has it he likes me and well I'm okay with that. Yes, I'm giddy, giggly and all the other nonsense a 5th grade girl can be. But it's "Tommy" who sends me a Valentine-gram that year. You see, we have a newsletter that goes out to the entire school and on Valentine's Day (the worst fu**ing holiday ever, by the way) people from all over the campus get to check out dedicated songs on this love-filled day! (What-the-fu**-ever Man!) So I buy the Valentine edition, hot off the press, sniffing the mimeograph ink fumes, to see if "Joe" has dedicated a romantic tune like "Private Eyes" by Hall and Oates, "Do You Believe in Love" by Huey Lewis or maybe even "Open Arms" by Journey...WRONG! Oh wait, I see something in the middle of the page...To: Me From: "Tommy" Song: Turbo Lover. Turbo Lover!? My 5th grade self did not know that song! And why, why did "Tommy" dedicate a song to me?! "Tommy" who always looked high and like he didn't wash his long, frizzy hair. "Tommy" who wore a black leather vest and Vans...what kid wears a black leather vest and looks stoned...in 5th grade? Moral of this story: 5th grade is an awkward year!
Middle school, high school and college will have to be shared in another blog...
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