Confessions of A Naughty Girl

Let Freedom (Include A Diamond) Ring

Wow, Fourth of July. Where the f*ck have the past four months gone? Hope everyone had a safe, happy holiday, and eating a lot of hot dogs, because they are one of the greatest foods ever invented using processed meat.

I was in Ohio this past weekend, because like most people on any fine holiday, I spent time with my family. But unlike most people on this holiday, instead of grilling out, laying out, and putting out, I sifted through boxes and boxes of shit, because my parents have sold our house and are moving in exactly two months.

Let me tell you...sorting through childhood memories, clothes, and miscellaneous crap is a lot like what I imagine hiring a hooker is like: you know you paid for it, you know you can do whatever you want with it, but you're not exactly sure where to begin, and after a while, you just want it to go away. Same thing here. I had piles upon piles of birthday cards, emails, keepsakes, sorority shit, pictures, yearbooks, and the occasional angst-ridden love letter. I wanted to keep all of it. But I don't think that even my 900 sq. ft. apartment (with a fireplace! for those cold Atlanta nights) is big enough to hold everything.

(By the way, if you're ever interested in a good laugh, I highly suggest reviewing your high school yearbook. If you notice, most everyone that was good-looking in high school is now disgusting, and those who had a rough couple of years are probably slangin' dick all over town. I am sort of glad I didn't peak in high school for that very reason.)

Anyway, so I was wondering if anyone knows where my husband is...while looking through my elementary school yearbook (Brookville Elementary in Brookville, PA), I found a message in 1988 from Mike McEntire that was signed, "your husband". Looking back, I remember the day he came over to my house, we were married in front of the Nintendo by my friend Ashley, and we kissed and played with our "kids", aka my dolls. What a pussy.

He did give me a beautiful "diamond" ring from one of those 25-cent vending machines. I wore it until the day I moved away. But oddly enough, I remember feeling very free the day that I threw it in my Caboodles jewelry box on the first day of fourth grade, knowing that I was independent, and free to play Red Rover with whoever I wished at my new school. I am almost certain that this little f*cker Mike McEntire gave me some commitment issues.

Sorry, that was mainly unrelated to this post. The point of the post is that I got to love my family, drink some drinks, and hang out with some of the people most important to me. It couldn't have gotten any better than that.

posted by KA @ 11:36 AM