OH MY FUCKING GOD, HE JUST GRABBED MY PUSSY!
Got off from work the other night, latish, around 10pm and made a quick stop at the local Walgreens. The hubs was fiddling with our vehicle so he strolled in a minute or two after me.
As I was checking out, he lagged behind near the end-cap. I heard him mumble something and I gave a kinda-quiet, what? He was talking about the new Lay’s flavors but I was too focused on getting outta there and home that I didn’t try hard enough to listen or respond. I know, wife of the year.
A woman who might have been training the young man helping me said something to him softly, something like, I didn’t think there was anyone else in the store. I took a look around and noticed my husband had wandered off and I figured maybe he had startled her.
She was cautiously walking in his direction when I said, I think it might just be my husband. She breathed a sigh of relief, which baffled me, I took my change and she blurts out:
I thought that man was bothering you!
Here, all along she thought this creep had followed me into the store and was trying to pick me up by talking about the new Lay’s Flavors. Keeping in mind that one is, Crispy Taco, and if said-stranger bought a bag I’d probably hop into his white kidnapping van, super irresponsible like.
All jokes aside, I was most impressed with this woman having my back. She did more than just observe, she went looking for him. So, thanks Walgreens lady.
Appreciate you watching out.
I moved around quite a bit as a kid, changing schools and attempting to make new friends quick enough that I’d never be labeled, “the new girl”. In sixth grade it was as simple as having the same name, quickly becoming best friends with Jenny Hoffman.
We had notebooks we’d pass back and forth gushing over our latest crush, fully equipped with nicknames – based on their initials, of course. We lived close to each other, but not close enough to share a bus stop so we’d alternate, meeting half way between our houses because best friends do not make entrances onto a school bus alone. We also had (have, if we’re being serious) nicknames for each other… Fur-Fur and Imp – we were pretty unstoppable.
When I think about the shit we got into I often wonder how we are still here to talk about them. Both of our parents considered the other the bad influence when in reality, depending on the day and whose outlandish idea was better for that moment, we both were.
Today is Jenny’s birthday, and as a gift I’m documenting my most favorite memories of us.
Not for us, for unsuspecting folks like our sixth grade teacher and a few others. We found it hilarious to call Pizza Hut and order pie’s for people, but it did not stop there. When we were able, we’d perch ourselves up on the hill outside and watch them get delivered. Looking back we probably should have felt bad for the delivery driver more than the recipient.
College, Cat, and Cornfield
While visiting Jenny at college she had a simple question for me: Have you ever driven through a cornfield? Growing up in the cities, this sounded intriguing: Sign me up! When two nineteen year old girls borrow a car (please keep in mind that this was not our vehicle) to speed through a cornfield, what could possibly make the decision worse? Let’s bring a cat with us. This actually happened, people. It wasn’t our proudest moment, but hot damn did we laugh hard. She drove, I held the kitty. It was all fun and games until we began spinning out of control, I was screaming at the top of my lungs and looked over to my BFF – there she is, perfectly calm, claiming: I got this, I got this… The car came to a halt and while she looked for the cat I sat examining my scratched up body, just happy to be alive. This was the night we realized we were indeed, ride-or-die bitches.
Band – Last Two Chairs
We both played the flute and if you’re familiar with band you know about the “chair” system to show how great you are, or how much you suck at playing an instrument. Maybe it’s supposed to push you to be better, Jenny and I? We were last and second to last chair consistently and never got any better, and we did not care. We had a great time pretending to play at the concerts and socializing during class.
We sat up in her bedroom one night and made Cosmos. I do not remember how old we were, but absolutely not 21. I do not even know if they were actually cosmos, but I trusted her bartending skills then just as I would now. I’m not sure if ‘cosmo night’ was the same night we decided to play out an entire photo shoot and tell each other how hot we were. I mean, look at these pictures, we probably should have sent them to agents or something – is that how modeling works?
My first job, at fourteen years old, was cashiering at a drug store. It wasn’t long before I recruited Jenny and we basically ran the place. We worked a lot so we could afford to walk to the mall and buy one shirt from Abercrombie & Fitch with our earnings. We had creepy boys come in and flirt with us, and we liked it – giving them discounts on disposable cameras…because those were still a thing then. We had full access to the magazine rack, providing us free Teen Bop reading pleasure and while I hope we didn’t steal the posters, I wouldn’t have put it past us.
Karaoke Videos and Stickers
Do malls still have the karaoke booths? If not, they should. We choreographed these things, like, legit practiced dance moves and executed them (not so) flawlessly in a 4×5 box. If I had to guess, we did this at least 10 times. Picture this: Lisa Loeb, Stay, matching tye-dye gap purses and terribly frizzy hair. We’d exit the box after our stellar performance and wait for the VHS to pop out of the machine so we could run home and watch it, and talk about how awesome we were. Looking back, this hobby of ours (yes, I called it a hobby) was my favorite. The mall also provided us with picture booths and The Limited Too had the best one – it made stickers out of your photos. What more could we want? We stuck those bitches everywhere. The metal poles at the tennis courts in Richfield probably still have the faded goodness on them.
It was with Jenny that I stole my step dad’s car to skip school and go shopping. I will take credit for this idea, but let’s get real – she thought it was a spectacular one. You can read the full story here… but just know that I drove from Wisconsin to Minnesota, picked her up at the bus stop, bumped to some Missy Elliot, threw some tuna fish sandwiches out the window and got home without getting caught – until three or four years later.
Jenny is one of those people who entered my life at just the right time, I sincerely hope that our children will find friends like we were for each other… while especially hoping they don’t do half the shit we did.
Happy Birthday, Jenny!
It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them. -Ralph Waldo Emerson
I took a right turn into the parking lot and saw two young boys, if I had to guess I’d say around 10 or 11 years old. They were huddled near the garages of the townhouses I used to reside in, bikes laying on the ground beside them. Driving pass slowly I tried to observe what was going on and at the last second before turning into my parking spot, I took a glance in my rear-view mirror.
These little shits are starting fires!
I slammed on my brakes, threw my car in reverse and with a squeal of my tires and a mark left on the pavement – I met them at the garages. I went into full blown, she-must-be-a-mama mode. I opened my door with conviction and these delinquent little beasts got pummeled with my angry mom voice.
While throwing my hands in the air…
WHAT EXXXACTLY DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!
Then, without skipping a beat, shaking my head from side to side to show my dislike of the situation…
I took one step closer to them, gave them a good stare-down for few seconds and finished up with…
I SUGGEST YOU BOYS GET OUTTA HERE BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE!!
In my mind, that is what I looked like.
Legit fear immediately covered both their faces. The taller boy threw his hands in the air as if I was an actual police officer myself, with a gun drawn. The smaller blonde boy just stood there with a blank face, nervous.
I make my way back to my house and as I am walking in the front door I notice them taking off on their bikes. Shit, they know where I live. I don’t know these kids… for all I know I just messed with the wrong 11 eleven year old.
A while later, while I was getting ready to make dinner my doorbell rang.
We just wanted to say that we are really sorry for playing with those matches by your house. Is there anything we can do to repay you?
First of all, I never requested or felt as if they owed me anything but I did step outside and chat with to these two young boys. I did my best to explain the serious consequences and risks of starting fires and playing with matches – especially on other people’s property. The taller boy says: Yeah, like……he could have started on fire… pointing at his buddy.
There was a pause, but I replied: Yeah…I would have totally hated that.
We had a little laugh and they went on their way. They never had to come back and say anything, they easily could have gone around the corner and kept doing what they were doing or went home and laughed at the crazy woman in the ally; instead, they made a choice that made me feel good about them, which was so pleasantly unexpected.
They aren’t little shits after all, just young boys.
The dynamic I witnessed today at the Bernie Sander’s Rally in Appleton, Wisconsin was unlike anything I’ve ever seen or been a part of, ever. When thousands of people come together with one common denominator there is a vibe that makes you want to pump your fists and high five until it hurts; and that’s before even getting inside.
We had a hard time deciding what time to arrive, how early is too early? Living less than ten minutes away, logically my husband and I pulled out of our driveway at 7:45am with a door-opening of 9:30am. Come to find out, the first people showed up at the Appleton Performing Art Center, ready to wait for Bernie, at two o’clock in the AM and a few hundred earlier than us.
Scanning the faces of all these people we are passing while making our way to the end of the line, which weaved around the venue and down the block at this point, I’m finding average college kids, hippies galore, old ladies and any other stereotype you can come up with. There are street vendors with wagons filled with T-shirts and buttons screaming into megaphones about a revolution. There are people running for congress handing out information – and an old Jewish socialist brought us all here.
If you’re in need of some free education…
Democratic Socialism Is Not: Communism
Democratic Socialism Is: People Over Profit
If you’d like further information… click here.
I’ve never been in the presence of the Secret Service before and scenes from The Blacklist just started spinning around in my overly-excited brain once we got inside. I’ll go ahead and state the obvious… those guys mean serious business. Don’t make a joke… is all I kept repeating while making my way to the metal detector.
When we made our way to the seats, up in the 2nd balcony, there were roughly two hours before Senator Sanders was scheduled to begin speaking. The anticipation was not to hear what he has to say… I know what he’s going to say. I’m well versed in Bernie’s speeches and policies – but it’s like hearing your favorite song live for the first time.
Chants of his name echoed throughout while people started the wave; I saw high fives, people embracing and shaking hands that I feel never would have crossed paths otherwise. Everyone was happy. Everyone was there with the same radical ideas. Bernie Sanders has brought people together, he has opened the minds of people who have dismissed politics and felt complacent with more than a few terribly corrupt government happenings.
When the Senator made his way to the podium, I made a conscience decision to take in my surroundings and if I’m being honest, I’m having a hard time putting my experience into words. There was so much hope, excitement and awe at once, but it was so far from being overwhelming – I didn’t want the cheering to stop. He expressed his views, plans and hopes for our country while the audience never stopped encouraging him for more with standing ovations and outbursts of support. I’ll tell you what there was not also, there were zero violent incidents.
When it was over he made his way to shake hands with supporters and even offer some hugs to attendees who were close enough – like those dedicated 2-am-ers.
For the husband and I, seeing and hearing him with our own eyes was plenty to fill our cup. Bernie Sanders reeks of genuine compassion and truth. I left feeling proud to be a part of his movement and ready to place my early vote for him here in Wisconsin tomorrow. I urge all my Wisconsin friends and followers to at least take a look at his policies and if he’s not the candidate for you – at least go out and vote for who is on April 5th. Find your polling place: HERE.
[Okay, okay…I know I said if he’s not for you to vote for who is, but I challenge you to find another candidate running for president who flies coach, has voted consistently for 20+ years and radical or not, has the American people’s best interest at heart.]