Thursday, January 26, 2012
Yeah...I did...8th grade. "Why?" you ask? I'll tell you why...
My mom decided all her kids were going to start taking Shaklee vitamins. Ever heard of them? They were these giant green horse pills. HUGE. And for some reason my mother bought a family sized bottle and decided all of her kids would take them.
So I did. Took me 10 glasses of water to swallow the damn thing. Disgusting.
Fast forward to my Home Economics class around 9 a.m. I needed to pee. Badly. I raised my hand to ask for a hall pass to the restroom. My teacher obliged. Swear to god...I got back from peeing and not even 5 minutes later? I needed to pee worse than the first time I asked for the pass.
My teacher looked at me and asked why I needed the pass again..."I need to use the restroom again." I said all red faced and embarrassed...So she hands it to me again.
I pee'd. I came back to class...needed to pee AGAIN...I kid you NOT! It was incredible. That friggin' vitamin! I could have swore my mom gave me a diuretic. Anyway, this time I was too embarassed to ask again. So I crossed my legs and tried to think dry thoughts.
But I couldn't. I had to pee. Badly. I actually debated whether it was worth going home early with wet pants rather than ask for the hall pass again in front of my classmates. No, Nope...can't hold it.
So I slowly approached my teacher..."Uh, I'm really sorry. My mom gave me a Shaklee vitamin this morning and something in it makes me need to go to the bathroom a lot. Can I have the hall pass again?" That bitch didn't even look up and replied, "Only if you agree to detention after school tomorrow."
HUH?! Detention? With all the low lifes and ne'er do wells? Are you shitting me?
I had no choice. I opted to pee.
Had to work on my pot holder after school the following day.
And a heartfelt "Thank you" to Shaklee brand vitamins* for sponsoring this fabulous adolescent memory.
(*Just read Shaklee has now branched into cleaning products. I smell a scam here...)
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
My family dog's name was Muffin. She was a cockapoo. Ever seen one? She had a fluffy coat...Cream colored. Yeah...that's her...bottom right. Sorry for the poor quality shot. She was active.
Muffin was a cute puppy. But as she began realizing she was living in a house with six kids she began to tow the line so to speak.
She often slept at the end of our beds. But not in a sweet way. In a possessive, "Don't move your feet or I'll bite your ass" kind of way. Still remember jamming my feet into the covers, hearing a growl...then muted mauling through the blankets.
Ah yes. But I liked to return the favor to Muffin. I'd come behind her as she ate and say really loudly, "WHATCHA DOIN' MUFFIN?!" And she turn and snarl from her bowl. Bearing every tooth in her head as she chewed making a slow, deliberate, "NEEEAHM, NEEEAHM..." sound. I used to chuckle at that...
Muffin always bolted too. But we didn't mind. She'd roam our neighborhood for the day. Come back home when she damn well felt like it. Given how crazy our house was, can't say I blame her. Especially neat was when I was out walking with neighborhood friends. They'd point and say, "Hey Trina! Isn't that your dog?" Almost implying I should chase her with a leash. "Yep. She'll be home for dinner." was all I'd say as I shrugged...
Muffin had some cool tricks too. No. I mean cool as crap. She'd "shake", "play dead"...but did your family dog ever do wheelies while peeing? No shit! No training or anything. I was taking her out one day and watched in amazement as she expertly hiked her hind legs in the air and began walking on her front legs. Not kidding. Ask any of my siblings pictured above. They'll tell you. It was funny and cool in our yard...quite embarassing when out on walks. She'd pop a wheelie while peeing and the neighbors would stare...confused. Probably wondering who the hell taught her the trick. One drawback to her trick was she'd sprinkle her front legs sometimes...it depended on how high she went...
Muffin slept in a crate downstairs some nights. Usually when she had an accident in the house. This didn't please her. I'd put her in her crate. She'd be visibly annoyed....pouting. I'd say extra cheerfully, "HAVE A GREAT NIGHT MUFFIN!" and flip the light switch really fast. That used to really piss her off. I know because I'd flip the light back on...There she'd be bearing every tooth in her head, ready to kill me. Snarling...haha...Good ole' Muffin.
Yep. Mean as crap. My sister reminded me she lived to the ripe age of 18 years.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
My dad's company used to sponsor "Family Day" at amusement parks. I actually think it was the only time my family actually got to go to one of those venues because for the same money, we could spend a week at the shore.
My youngest brother was probably 5 years old at the time. The first ride we boarded looked pretty innocent. A choo choo train. All of us climbed on board and smiled and waved as we were whisked away.
It was actually a stupid ride. I guess we were supposed to be entertained by cheesy bears playing banjos and singing. Or whatever else scenes this place thought were entertaining. Just as we were getting into boredom mode, we felt the choo choo kinda catch onto a chain...and head up a steep incline.
It was dark. We were confused, but had no choice but to go along. Suddenly the train went from a choo choo to the TGV...(Train de Grande Vitesse)...ever seen one? It's fast. It's scary. It was a freaking roller coaster.
As we approached the loading gates to disembark we looked over at my brother who was completely wide eyed and stunned. He was standing in place with a dazed look...and proceeded to place his hands in his pant pockets, rock on his heels and says, "Why! Looky there! My shoes got wet!"
Did I mention there was no water on this ride? There wasn't.
I guess that last hill really scared him. And as such he wizzed his pantalones. I did give him props for his novel, "Point out the obvious, maybe they won't suspect I did what I did on the ride."
And the thing is? He kept peeing his pants! The whole day...Not a good combo with the searing hot temps....
The end of the day everyone was getting tired. My sister turns to me and says, "Are there pony rides here? I smell horses!"
My now disgusted, exhausted Dad bellows, "It's not a HORSE. It's your brother!!! We have to leave!"
(Another thing about this day I remember is my mom spilling her baked beans and half eaten hot dog into a vat of community potato salad. Classic! I stood and laughed as she frantically tried to fish out the beans before the corporate folks saw...)
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Ever been to a Farrell's Old Fashioned Ice Cream Parlor and Restaurant? Not to brag, but I have. Several times.
The whole theme of the joint is supposed to be 1890's nostalgia. Harken you back to the days when men wore red and white vertically striped jackets and straw top hats. All the servers were dressed like that.
It was a happy place. A feast for my senses as I watched servers clapping and singing as they worked. Oh, and adding to the magic was a player piano too. It would belt out all kinds of fun old fashioned tunes...Funny, I don't remember what songs exactly. Probably "Oh Susanna" or some barbershop crap.
And if it was your birthday, the fine folks at Farrell's restaurants made you a fucking V...I....P....I mean, you were the SHIT, if you went there for your birthday...which is why I wanted to go there every year.
As soon as I walked in the door I'd give my parents a long intense stare serving as a reminder to tell our server, "Psst, it's Trina's birthday today...Do you do anything special?" knowing full well I'd get an ice cream sundae big enough to host a social...Then the pretend, "Oh! Really? That's so nice!" when the server says, "Why indeed we DO! I'll just let them know about our special guest." It was only after the birthday transaction between my parents and our server was complete could I actually relax and eat my dinner...
I envisioned the cooks in the back getting all jazzed about my birthday...Planning out the timing of my sundae. Telling the other chefs,"Hold it on that chocolate fudge and whipped cream pal..Trina needs it. It's her birthday! Isn't that GREAT?"
Farrell's was a bit of a drive for my parents...We lived near Boulder. Farrells was near Denver...probably a good 40 minute jaunt. But for my birthday? My parents were down for it. So we'd make the trek.
Then came my 10th birthday. And as usual when asked about what I wanted I'd dreamily conjure up my fine Farrell's memories and request the annual pilgrimage.
I dressed in Farrell's finery. Always had to kinda step it up dressing wise. I'd put on my Christmas dress. Sure it was red velvet and had holly on the bow. But it was still winter. And matched perfectly with Farrell's decor. Screw it. It was my day.
We drove to Denver and pulled into the run down shopping center where Farrell's was located. As we made our approach in the parking lot, I noticed something peculiar. I'm sure my dad noticed the same and was likely praying as much.
Farrell's was closed. Zero lights. Zero music. Zero fun. "What the....whaaa?" was all I could think as all of my family stared at the sadly dark building...stunned. Dad looked pretty surprised as he tried to put a positive spin on the whole ordeal.
"Trina, it looks like Farrell's went out of business dear. But how about we go home. I'll buy several flavors of ice cream from King Sooper's and make you the same thing at home." All I could say was, "Uh...uh huh...ok."
Gradually as we drove home I began feeling anger towards Farrell's. "The nerve of that place closing before my birthday. Would it kill them to host one more birthday for me? Now where the hell do I go to celebrate? McDonald's? In the back with the stupid talking tree? No NO! I don't even get McDonald's!!! I get KING SOOPER'S ice cream...crammed into a cereal bowl! Served by a guy in horn rimmed glasses! This sucks!"
But what could I do. The following year my parents made it up to me by taking me to Casa Bonita. A mexican place with cliff divers and food that would make you want to follow them.