Chronically Ironic

·A Royal Self-Screwing

Okay, for you clamoring fans, I will now tell the story of how I almost didn’t graduate high school. This is a stupid story of a stupid girl who made STUPID choices. But hey. I can’t take them back now. Can I? Whimper.

My senior year in high school must be prefaced with the decision that was made for me by my parents. You see, up until that time, I had a great GPA, did better than average on my SAT, and had my entire future ahead of me. As much as I love my parents, they ruined all of that for me. Of course, I think we are all brought up to think there is a “college fund.” I had all of my near-Ivy League schools picked. At the side of my well-to-do best friend Leigh, I thought for sure we would both end up somewhere like Tulane or Pepperdine or some awesome second-tier school very similar. I was wrong, wrong, wrong. I was told in my junior year that hey, there was no college fund and hey, you have to go somewhere in Texas, and HEY, it has to be a PUBLIC SCHOOL. I am not knocking all of that now, but at the time I was given the choice/no choice, I was pissed. So senior year was for rebellion. Little did I know I was only screwing myself.

I completely fucked off my entire senior year. I would fall asleep in class. Bring vodka in a contact solution bottle and drink it in the parking lot. Or in the bathroom. Or wherever the fuck I wanted. I was also working at my sad little mall job at the Beauty Express. Yes, my friends, beauty for you, cheaply and quickly, in the hands of a bitter teenager. I decided that it would be really lucrative and more funner (as that kind of grammar is where my intelligence was headed) if I skipped 5^th period English (waaa? Favorite class!) and instead, GO TO WORK. Yeah. Smarty Smarterson strikes again. So I did. For those of you that are not aware of the geography of the Dallas/Fort Worth Area, I would pretty much leave my high school which was in the FORT WORTH area and drive to work which was north of North Dallas – PLANO. That’s a long fucking drive to go make $5.50 an hour. Plus, for those of you that were around in the late 80’s, you are aware that this is the decade in which they were “fixing” the major freeway that runs through Dallas – The Almighty Central Expressway, or 75. I have never seen traffic more fucked up in any place I have ever lived. Not even you, St. Louis. And St. Louis is pretty damn miserable, what with the 900 bridges and the mentally handicapped apparently owning and operating all vehicles. Back to Dallas and its shitty road. I had air conditioning in my awesome faux-leather-topped Mustang II (Electric Boogaloo) but mysteriously, after sitting in traffic at a complete stand-still for 90 minutes, the AC no longer worked. Sometimes it would overheat and I would have to turn the car off for awhile. Didn’t matter, we weren’t going anywhere.

So after the incredibly retarded drive to Plano, I would get to my awesome job where I could sell hair products to Edie Brickell and other New Bohemians, work with one girl who swore to be the girlfriend of Richard Marx and another girl/woman who was ABSOLUTELY FUCKING CRAZY. I will never forget this person. And not in a good way. Even though we did have a good time together THEN, I had not realized the depth of her insanity. She was about 35, and I was 17. Now. There is nothing wrong with having younger/older friends, but what the hell could this woman really want with me? I thought she was awesome. I was incorrect. She took me to bars with her, which WAS awesome. They were cheesy singles bars, which wasn’t. She lived on her own, which was AWESOME. She slept with bouncers from said singles bars, which wasn’t. We had a lot of fun at work…until my parents got a call.

The call was from my English teacher. She first tried to speak with my mother about my absences, my lack of enthusiasm (read: sleeping in class) and the dreaded thing – my fucking term paper. Not done. Hell, not even started. Combine that with another paper for sociology (zzzzzz…it was my 1^st period class) that was not done, and I would get a Big Red F and get to be a senior ALL OVER AGAIN!!! YAAAAY!!!! For real. My mother, with the instincts and grace of an ostrich, just kept repeating herself over and over and babbling about all the invitations that she had already sent out for the graduation ceremony. My teacher, realizing that my mother was a lunatic at this point, chose to call back. This time she got my father. That’s when all my little angsty fun ended.

I will not say my dad kicked my ass. I will say it must have been bad, because my little anguished brain has completely blocked it from my memory. My father is of German descent. When I say he has a Nazi Glare, I do not mean my dad is a Nazi, or racist by any means. But my father’s looks will whip you without the belt. He must have told me what was going on, that I had to finish these papers or I wouldn’t graduate, etc. I seriously was completely unaware of the extent of my folly – I was very busy drinking and working. Unbelievably, the teachers agreed to let me do one paper for both classes. I had to quit my beloved job. AND I had to call off my friendship with what would soon be the Queen of Psycho. When I told her that I was quitting, she started calling my parents’ house and saying horrible death-threaty things like, “tell her to be careful when she gets in her car today” or “I’m gonna kill you.” Okay, terrific!!! It only lasted for a little while, though.

My high-school friends were glad to see that I was “back,” as much as I disdained their childlike ways and lack of appreciation for the Cape Cod. My English teacher, who has been my dear, dear friend since that horrible year, has guided me through college, jobs, and countless beers and cigarettes on her patio while we would discuss life and everything under the sun. We have been through deaths, births, sickness, loves and lost loves. I owe her everything. I do not know how to honor her properly other than to say that everyone should be so lucky to have a friend like her. She is the reason I write.

My paper was on Machiavelli. He pretty much sums up my entire senior year of high school:

“Never was anything great achieved without danger.”

Thanks, Machiavelli. If it weren’t for you, I would have never graduated. All Hail the Fucking PRINCE!!!

Glories of the 80's, Work is a Four-Letter Word, The Short Bus