Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Singing in the Rain

My parents are much better at choosing friends than me. They've had friends they've known since before high school. Me? Let's put it this way, in elementary school I belonged to a clique of girls. They were cute, smart, and fucking evil. When we weren't working on our slam books we were emotionally scarring each other, the torture didn't stop until someone shed tears and doubted their right to exist. I never witnessed that behaviour from my parents or their friends. Especially with regards to slam books.

By the time I was 13 I decided not to belong anywhere. In 8th grade I also decided to avenge myself. I charged long distance phone calls to Lisa Nazar's phone number. How? Well, all you have to do is dial the operator and explain you want to charge the following call to said phone number. That was it. Who knew that Bell Atlantic would list the telephone number from which the call was placed on Lisa Nazar's parents' phone bill. Oopsy. I got caught. My parents, very upset with my behaviour, grounded me.

The punishment seemed to include going to the home John and Markaye Taylor for dinner. Who? High school friends of my parents. And the funniest people I've ever met in my entire life. And I've met some friggin hysterical comedians. I always enjoyed these people. Unlike most of my parents friends John and Markaye didn't argue about driving directions, Reagan, and dietary problems. Instead the Taylors were loud and funny. They swore, drank hard liquor, told dirty jokes, the introduced me to the word "hebe" and the always had the best stories. I never tried to wrangle out going to their house. If dinner at John and Markaye's was part of my sentence for stealing long distance then hells yeah! I'll charge phone calls every day.

During the course of dinner this particular evening my vengeful deed came up. My parents explained what I had done with grave disappointment on their faces and in their voices. John and Markaye responded, "Good for you! She was a bitch right. Screw her. Next time, though, don't get caught." My Dad's head dropped to his chest, he shook his head and laughed.

John Taylor will be missed.

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