So this week at Mama's Losin It the following prompts were offered:
1.) If I sent you four hundred dollars today what is ONE thing you would spend it on and why. ps I want my change.
2.) What are your kids talking about?
3.) Tell us about a local news story that's all the buzz right now in your neck of the woods.
4.) Share some blogging advice.
5.) Tell us about that time at the playground when that thing happened.
I'm getting all bold and gonna do two of them.
1 - If you sent me $400 smackaroos I'd go to the camera shop on the corner of Main and Cornwell and get that DSLR that I've been eyeing for $350. I'm completely and totally jealous of my sister and her ability to take pictures and somehow I think having a fancy schmancy camera like she has would make all the difference. Probably won't work. But you can definitely have the change... and a photo session.
5 - Playground huh? Well there was this one time...
at band camp...
when I stuck the flute up my...
When I was about 10 I lived in these apartments in Cali with my mama. Lots of kids. LOTS. One in particular was the asst manager's son. Toby. Ya, his real name. I hope he's a blogger! Anyway, Toby thought he was the shit because his mama was the asst manager. Pfft. That didn't fly well with me, but my mama always taught me to be respectful and not to get us evicted.
One day I was being Resident Potty Mouth and accidentally happened to walk by his mother's window cussing like a sailor. My exact words, "I'd fucking get in so much fucking trouble if my mama found out I was cussing." Well, the wench Toby's mama was, looked out her window, pointed her obnoxiously long, Lee Press-On red fingernail at me and instructed me to get home immediately and she was calling my mama. Tattle teller. I hated her after that, and I hated her son even more... just for being related.
I always had the choice of being grounded or getting a whippin. It was summer. I was definitely taking the licks. No way was I going to be stuck in that apartment for two weeks while all my friends, and Toby, got to play outside. Boy she got me good. I bent over my pink canopy bed and took my swats like a man.
About a week later, I'm in the playground and stupid Toby walks over and starts taunting me about getting in trouble for cussing. He's cussing up a storm, mind you, while he's taunting me. We were 10 and it was cool to cuss. Meanwhile my favorite Aunt Barbie and my mama are up in the apartment, throwing back some vodka grapes, and I'm trying to be a good girl. I had a pink canopy bed for Pete's sake. But my inner boy-child came out. I couldn't help it. I think it had something to do with the "Here Comes Trouble" t-shirt my grandpa got me when I was 7.
Toby was relentless and it was up to me, the playground hero, to put him in his place... even if that meant my poor mama and I would be homeless by the end of the week. I had dirt on him you see. I knew he was the one who egged our neighbors truck and I would tell it. I would tell it in a heartbeat and he knew it!
He smarted off one more time and all I remember was my little arm swinging out like I had a sack of potatoes in it and my fist made contact with Toby's face! He grabbed his jaw and dropped to the ground... like a little biotch. My exact words, "I'm gonna go tell my Aunt Barbie I just beat up a BOY!" and I ran like hell. I knew that when he got up I was dead meat.
I get to my apartment and run to my room. Mama and Auntie had a few drinks in them by then and didn't pay me any mind. I was relieved. I was just waiting for the phone call from Toby's nosey mama telling us to pack our stuff.
Knock knock! There's someone at my front door. My Aunt, being closest, opens the door to find Toby, leather belt in hand, with a gang of boys asking if I can come out to play. Well, my Aunt Barbie was a rather large woman and the boys were afraid of her. She had a few choice words for them, as I was hiding behind her, and they left. Toby said I hit him, she said he probably deserved it, he said he was going to tell his mama and my lovely Auntie said Bring It On! She knew my secret about Steve's truck being egged.
My mama, sitting in the kitchen, none the wiser, only asked me to fix her another drink. She didn't care who was at the door and I surely wasn't going to bring it up. Auntie told me to stop being mean to the boys because one day I was going to have a boyfriend, and boyfriends don't like being punched in the face. Bleh!
That was over and I was happy about it. I beat up a boy and life was good. I was the Queen of the Playground to reign forever and ever. Until the following week when I didn't see Toby. And the week after I didn't see Toby. My neighbor Johnny told me Toby was in the hospital. I felt horrible! I thought I put him in the hospital! Come to find out, poor Toby had a crooked weiner and they were "straightening" things out.
Go on over to Mama's Losin It and tease your mind with tons of other glorious stories!
And Mama Kat, if you happen to read my tale, I would have put your handy dandy button on here, but the dang code isn't working properly... that or I'm a complete blog-tard and can't figure it out.