Jump Up, Jump Up and Get Down

trampolineHippie. Preppie. Popular. Loner. Freak. Geek. I was all of those things at one point during high school. Except popular… I just tagged along with the cool kids for a while. Which was fine, because in my high school, the cool kids tended to have the personalities and suntans of a Cheez-It. They looked like models for a JC Penney catalog. The guys drank cans of Busch and got wasted. They bullied , they date raped, they high-fived. The girls were even scarier. For more, just watch Season 1 of Veronica Mars and…That.

Let’s just say I never fit the mold. Continue reading

Fear and (self) loathing in the tattoo parlor

Fear-and-Loathing-In-Las-Vegas-6301As a teenager in the suburbs, there’s not a ton to do. Most kids wind up committing to being jocks or scholars shooting for the Ivy League purely from lack of diverse choices alone. Others just float along and enjoy youth, aka, look for trouble.

The laminate on my driver’s license barely formed a seal before I sped to the gas station to buy a pack of cigarettes. I’d never smoked before – not even just pretending to inhale – but I was an unsupervised, restless teenager who wanted to breathe fire. And in the 90’s, carding for cigarettes really wasn’t a thing. After all, most of the people working at gas stations were classmates from my high school. Continue reading

An inadvertent case of grand theft auto

All cars kind of look the same, right?

All cars kind of look the same, right?

Nobody has ever called me a girly girl. As a kid, I preferred off-roading on my Huffy bike and shooting hoops in the driveway to dressing up in princess outfits and playing with Barbie. I never rocked a perfect coif or sported the hottest fashions. But I wasn’t exactly a tomboy, either. I surrounded myself in a village of adorable stuffed animals and spent hours meticulously crafting jewelry and clothespin dolls.

Continue reading