CONFESSIONS OF A TEENAGE DRAMA QUEEN

Okay, so here it is. The post you've all been waiting for.





I seriously can't believe it has been 10 years since I graduated high school. It's actually really freaky. And tonight is the big night. And after thinking really hard about all the positives and negatives about reunions, I decided I better just go. After all, I did talk a little bit of trash about Spencer being to lazy to have a five year-er, so I figured since he got up off his lazy ace and planned a 10 year, I better go.



And yes, you can tell him I said that. Cause it's true. His only job as class president is to be in charge of reunions. Hey, he's the one who ran for the position. Anyways, that is old hat. Let's move on.





Okay, so my fear about tonight is a) I might actually run into Spencer and be face to face with the guy I've been talking trash about for 4 years now. Yeah. That should be fun. b) that I will run into someone and I won't remember their name. And yes, I realize they will have a name tag on. And that is what will be embarrassing. Cause I'll have to look down at their chest, and then say hi. Awkward much? c) then after then embarrassing myself the other alumni (the one I didn't know their name) will be standing there waiting for my apology for whatever horrible thing I did to them as a teenager. And I will just stand there, cause I won't remember what I did. And then that will just be weird. and d) now this is a slim chance, but I might run into Peter H.





Now, why would that be weird you ask? Well, let me tell you.





In honor of my 10 year, I decided to tell all of my delicious bloggers about my most embarrassing high school moment. Just for kicks. Plus, if you are a fellow eagle, you can read this today, see me tonight and then you might feel sorry for me and come say hi. And tell me that you are glad you are not me.





Okay, well it all started out the fall of 2005. Like a gift from the gods above I was put into Mrs. Friel's english class, and the fabulous seating chart seated me right behind my future teenage crush. His name? Let's just call him, for anonymity's sake, Peter H. His cologne? CK one. And I'm not sure if I was just drunk off his cologne, but I proceeded to fall hard. Really hard.


And like a sign from above that it was meant to be, as luck would have it the locker Gods placed us just three lockers away from each other. He probably didn't notice. I however, did. And found myself at my locker much more than necessary, you know, just in case Peter needed to happen upon his. You know, for like a book or something.


Well--okay--I must give a little back info here now. One of my best friends of my whole life Toni Smith--holla--moved away after ninth grade to a boarding school in Wisconsin. And I thought it was just about the end of my life. And so because of this I wrote her ridiculously long, and totally unimportant letters everyday during school. Mostly about my drama of not being noticed by Peter. Oh, and my un-dying love for him. Or so I thought. Okay, back to the story.


So, a few months into my first semester, I was lingering around my locker for no apparent reason other than to just maybe say "Hi" to Peter, when I saw his date from homecoming give him his pictures from the dance. He threw them into his locker and went on his way. Well, me being the over-obsessive, borderline-stalker, I had already memorized his locker combination months before. (Does this scare you?) And at this point, I was really excited I had. Because at that moment, for some reason, it seemed like a brilliant idea to open his locker and steal one of his pictures from the homecoming dance to send to Toni so she could finally have a face to put with a name. In my dramatic teenage mind I totally rationalized this by saying that the forced entry was for my friend. Not me. Apparently burglary is fine, if it has a good purpose.


So, I broke in, and while I was in the middle of my crime, right there next to his homecoming pictures (which I did in fact steal one sheet of) were like another gift from the gods, a few childhood pictures of Peter. From when he was like 6 or 7. So what was a loved-crazed teenager to do? Steal those pictures too.


Now, you are probably wondering to yourselves where the embarrassing part comes in. Well, right now, so hold onto your hats amigos.


Okay, so I now had the stolen pictures in my possession. Only one thing to do. Put them on my desk at home and stare at them. In the mean time, the next girls choice dance was coming up quickly, and since I have no sense of what is right and wrong as proven previously, I decided to actually ask Peter to the dance. No sense in having a crush if you can't do anything about it right? So, I ended up asking Peter to the dance by lame-ly putting a bag of chips and salsa on his doorstep with a picture that said, "You're all that and a bag of chips. Will you go to (whatever dance it was) with me?


And honestly, looking back. What was I thinking? Peter should have just remained a crush. Someone to admire from afar. He was, and I say this truthfully, way out of my league. At least in a looks sort of way. Ya know?


Okay, well, as luck would have it, for some odd reason I decided to pull those Peter photos out and write Toni a letter and send the pictures so she could validate my crush for me. So there on my desk I had the letter which professed my undying crush for Peter with one of his dance photos (with another girl) and his two childhood photos. Which I decided to write on the back of. Something to the effect of: Toni--This is Peter. Isn't he hot? With lots of hearts. And then, instead of putting the letter and photos in a envelope like a normal person and mailing it, I forgot about it and it sat on my desk for a week or two.


And in the mean time, don't forget that I had asked Peter to a dance. Okay, well, one weekend night Peter and all of his friends decide to answer me about the dance. So, they come to my house, and my brother, who at the time I didn't exactly get along with, sees them leaving the stuff on the doorstep, and asks them if they want to come in and put the stuff in my room. My messy, disgusting, teenage room. And I'm talking dirty laundry and clothes and underwear all over the place. AND THE PICTURES AND LETTER ON MY DESK. So the 5 or 6 guys that go to my high school, that I have to see soon, come into my mess of a room, and put the poster and candy down somewhere, and do they just leave? Nope. I guess Peter or one of his friends sees his picture on my desk. And they precede to read the letter, and wait for it, wait for it--they see the sheet of dance pictures and they don't just take them (cause that would be fine, cause you know, they are HIS.), nope. They cut one out and took it. Can you believe it? Yes, they actually took one, and left the rest for me. Ahhh.


And then I came home later. And Dave, my brother who I love so dearly, just starts laughing and tells me to go check out my room. My disgusting mess of a room. And I realize at that moment what has happened, and just how EVIL my brother is. I go to my room, and am MORTIFIED. He has seen my room. My dirty laundry. And my letter. And his pictures. And. he. took. one.


Oh man. The mortification. I was so embarrassed I was physically sick for two days. I seriously stayed home from school for two entire days and threw up non-stop. Finally, I guess I realized I couldn't drop out of school, so I went back. And my friends were super sweet, and just quietly laughed, and told me, "hey, at least he didn't change his mind and say no." And then it hit me. I'd actually have to not just go to school and try to avoid him, but go to a dance with him. And be his DATE. (On a side note, just cause I think it's funny, he told me he had this CD he wanted to listen to in the car--and guess what it was? Shaggy. It wasn't me.)


Yeah. I was a pretty awesome teenager. Anyways, I survived the experience, and for many years, well at least days, I learned my lesson about the importance of cleanliness. And kept it fairly clean for a week or so. And I went to the dance. And I survived. But it was amazing to me how quickly my crush for Peter evaporated once I had humiliated myself. Pretty soon I couldn't even stand to see him. And just the smell of CKOne was enough to make me puke.


My apologies to my friends who have heard this before. And ya know what? I even saw Peter H. at a bar a year or so ago, and my brother Dave was even there. And I said in the sternest voice that I could muster to him, "If you even for a minute think that it would be funny to embarrass me at this point in my life, I will never talk to you again." And he laughed and laughed, but didn't embarrass me. Wow. We really have made progress. And can you believe after what he did to me that I even talk to him still?


So there you have it. My most embarrassing teenage high school moment ever. I hope you enjoyed it. It truly was the worst day of my life, but has turned out to be pretty darn funny. I was just such a dramatic crazy teenager. And one thing is for certain, I definitely learned my lesson about stealing stuff out of lockers. You can bet your bottom dollar I never did that again.




See all you eagles tonight! Go class of 98!