One Time

There are instances where I make the same mistake twice, quite a few actually, I like to make people question my morals from time to time, but sometimes it only takes once.

One time, I got in a car and sped through a cornfield, because it seemed like a fun idea, with a cat. We spun out and the cat went nuts, scratching my face and arms…so I never did that again.


One time, I didn’t eat any food or have any water on a 90Β° day and I fainted inside a swim suit store at the Mall of America. I woke up to a stretcher and paramedics asking me if I had an eating disorder to which I rudely told them to look at me, while pinching my rolls, do I look like I have an eating disorder? I’ve made sure that never happened again.

One time, I stood in line for 5 hours to meet Sugar Ray. I’d never do that again.

One time, I pawned an ex boyfriends expensive drill for a whopping $15.00 because he was, and probably still is, a total piece of shit. Given the opportunity, I would do that again.

One time, I took out a payday loan……… and it was the worst fucking thing I’ve ever done. I’m not sure how much more than I borrowed that I ended up paying back but it felt like a million dollars.

One time, I got an underage drinking ticket at The Bird night club that had 16+ nights on Wednesdays. That’s the one and only time I’ve ever been handcuffed by a police officer and I was clearly intoxicated because I asked him if I could keep the plastic mouthpiece I blew into as a souvenir. (He totally let me keep it, which by the way, is white girl privilege at its finest.)

One time, I applied for a job that was so far over my head I walked out mid interview.

One time, my mom caught me stealing her cigarettes and she convinced me to smoke three in a row, took me outside and spun me around until I puked. For the record, I give my mom creativity points for that one.

One time, before I got my license I stole my step dad’s car, skipped school, and drove it across state lines to go shopping at the Mall of America with my best friend. If you wanna read the whole story, click here.

One time, I told my entire fourth grade class that my dad lived in California and had a private jet that he would come and pick me up in on the weekends. My dad lived 25 minutes from me, and drove a red Pontiac Grand AM. Almost comparable.

One time, I cried myself out of getting a traffic ticket…….okay, I lied, I’ve done that so many times.


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