Television can be evil

When we got back to school on that Friday night we decided to go to a party and tell people what just happened. Naturally, no one believed us. Our other roommate knew that we went and her response was that “the show will never air.” We taped the show in April and waited impatiently for it to air. Finally, after calling the show on a weekly basis, we had a day in May that it would happen. I was a little bummed because I wanted it to air when I was in school just to see people’s reactions, but school was out for the summer.

The show aired and I watched it with some friends back home. My mom told me that she didn’t think that it was fake after she saw it. I assured her that it was. I had an ex-boyfriend call me and tell me that he had just seen me on t.v. and I was on every television set in Circuit City. People kept calling throughout the day and, to be honest, I was glad when things settled down a bit.

Fall arrived and we all headed back to school. While I was moving my things into my apartment, two guys who were moving in down the hall stopped me and said, “Were you on Jenny Jones?” I told them that I was and then had to explain to them that it was all a joke. I don’t know whether they believed me or not. Our friends who had seen the show stopped by to talk about it and congratulated us on a job well done. The first day of classes arrived sooner than we wanted and Sara and I headed to our English class. The professor walked in and began checking the roll. When he got to me he looked at me quizzically, paused and then went on to the next name…which happened to be Sara’s. He put the roster down and said, “You two were on the Jenny Jones Show a few months ago!” We told the story again.

The semester progressed as usual, but we were still being recognized almost everywhere that we went. While walking across the quad one afternoon, a girl stopped me and asked if I had ever been on the Jenny Jones show. When I told her yes, I started explaining to her the entire story. After I was finished, she looked at me and remarked, “You’re just telling me that now so that I won’t think that you’re a bitch. I think you are!” and with that, she walked away. Sara and I were eating lunch one day off-campus and these three female basketball players kept looking at us and whispering. One of them asked, “Were you guys…” and before she could finish I blurted out, “on Jenny Jones? Yes.” As much as I thought that I would enjoy this attention, it really was becoming aggravating. I was so sick of the story that whenever I’d retell it, I’d leave out a little more each time.

The following summer Sara and I went to Las Vegas to visit her mother. While we were in the bathroom of one of the casinos, a lady walked out of her stall and said, “You two were on that talk show!” then proceeded to tell us our story. How do people remember that?! I wouldn’t recognize someone from a talk show at any time, much less a year after the fact. One of the funniest things that was said was when I was at a party at Ari’s aunt’s house. Everyone had gathered on the deck and she was talking to some friends of hers. She called Ari and me over and said, “Ask them about being on Jenny Craig!” Her guests looked mortified. I’m guessing they thought it was rude to discuss our dramatic weight loss publicly. Ari corrected her and we told the story again.

Overall, the experience was wonderful. We got a free trip out of the deal and were small-time celebs for a moment. Would I do it again? I doubt it. Actually a producer from the show called me several months after it had aired and asked if I’d be willing to come back on the show. I told her that things had worked themselves out: Ari and I had split up (over the money from the show, sadly) and Sara and I were sharing a room in an apartment. There were no fights at all and we were living happily ever after. “Well, could you come on and say that you and Sara have something going on with one another now?” Are you kidding me?! I politely declined, hung up the phone, and turned on the t.v. to where it all began.

This is how they saw us

Catch up with Part 1 and Part 2 first.

“Ladies and gentlemen, before we run out of time, I’d like for you to meet Allie and her roommate Sara. They’re roommates and they live together (um, okay) and they’re fighting over the same man. Allie, tell us your story.”

“Sara started dating Ari and when he first came over to pick her up, we hit it off. I just want her to butt out of our relationship!”

I won’t go into every single thing that was said, but the story involved me stealing Sara’s “date dress,” wearing it out with Ari and “accidentally” spilling spaghetti on it. Then I sat behind them at a movie and I made snide remarks throughout about how he wanted me and not her. Sara and I yelled at each other. Ari, the paid one, was really earning his money by saying very little. He defended me a couple of times from Sara, but the hard part was still to come. The audience.

Jenny opened it up to comments from the audience and it was Allie Jo season. A large woman with a lovely t-shirt that had anchors all over it stood up and said, “Ari hasn’t made a commitment, not to you or to her. So what gives you the right to tell your friend to butt out, baby?” “Because I love him,” was my answer. “Booooooooo!” from the audience. Another girl stood up and said, “I’m here with my roommate and I would never do anything like that to her. I mean all you’re doing is acting like a little slut!” The audience cheered. WTF?! Ari got pissed off at this point and stood up to tell everyone that I wasn’t a slut (thanks for defending my honor), but they edited that out of the show. I need to point out that this young lady waited for me after the show and came at me like a pitbull. Luckily, the car had its door open so I escaped.

Our story went on, taking twists and turns. All of us were having to think on our feet, but we were hanging in there like champs. I told of a time when I invited Sara to come home with me for Easter just to get her away from him. I also mentioned that she had called Ari and told him that I was sick and couldn’t go out that night. The she came into my room and told me that he had called and something had come up. I was called “a spoiled, selfish brat” by a woman with a nasty perm. Another lady told Sara to move because she had “a real scary roommate.” A lady with one tooth who was actually picking her nose as she stood up to talk, said that it was like Single White Female” and Sara was Bridget Fonda.  I mean, no one was defending me. One person in the audience did, and that was edited out as well. So yeah, I was the villain and there was no turning back. I had my role and I had to run with it. I mean, Sara’s make-up and hair were soft and pretty. I looked like a whore. I really did. Coal black eyeliner around my eyes and streaks of blush up my cheeks. Someone could have added up all of the make-up that I’d worn in my entire life and it wouldn’t have come close to that mess!

During the commercial breaks, Jenny would get people in the audience to ask questions so she’d know who to go to when we went back on-air. A lady brought out some water for us and said, “MMMMMM, and you say you guys are friends.” I was being judged by the water lady?????!!!!  Back on air and time was running out. I had to do it. I’d been planning a line to use (possibly all my life in some situation) and the door was opened by a large woman who was wearing all red. If the audience wanted to hate me. Fine. But I wasn’t going down without upsetting the crowd even more. “He doesn’t love you like that. Why are you willing to throw away your friendship if he doesn’t love you?” The camera zoomed in within inches of my face and I said two words that would send me into bitchdom forever: “He’ll learn.”

You would have thought that I had sacrificed a puppy in front of the crowd. Actually, I think that would have garnered me some support from the folks. The place erupted. Shouts, yells, moans, screams…good lord. I had succeeded. Jenny had to ask again what I had said because even she didn’t believe it. “Did you say ‘We’ll learn’?” she asked as the crowd shushed. “Yeah, he’ll learn. He’ll come around one day!” At this point on the tape, you can see me choking back the laughter. Literally. The corners of my mouth were turning up. I shut my eyes to think of baseball or something and you could see me swallow hard. Ari went on to tell Jenny that I was a lot of fun and we had a great time together because I was outgoing. “Well, she doesn’t look like a lot of fun to me. I mean, she doesn’t look happy.” Thanks Jenny, but you know what? I just got a free trip to Chicago for my boyfriend, my best friend, and all on you. No fun, my ass…

At the conclusion of the show, Jenny told me that I needed help because of my obsession, but didn’t offer any to me. As we piled into the limo to take us back to the airport (after I had warded off Big Mama coming after me with my backpack) I couldn’t help but to laugh, along with Ari and Sara. Even though the story didn’t go off as planned, it still went over well and I was proud that I could mark another goal off of my list. When I arrived back at the airport, I called my mom to tell her that I was back. “How was your trip to Chicago?” she asked sarcastically. Before I could answer, someone was being paged in the airport and she heard it. “Oh my god, you really did it, didn’t you?” she gasped. “I told you that I was,” I replied. I thought it was over, but I hadn’t seen anything yet until the show aired…

Links:

Part 1

Part 2

This is what the audience wanted to see.

Be sure to read Part 1 First

Our flight into Chicago was uneventful. Since we “hated” one another, we weren’t placed beside each other on the plane (the show set that up). Once we got our bags we were greeted by a limo driver holding a sign that read “The Jenny Jones Show.” I could NOT believe that this was going to happen! Our driver took us around the city, showing us points of interest. Finally, he dropped us off at our hotel which was very nice.

We decided to go to dinner together. I mean, what were we supposed to do. The most difficult part in all of this was acting like I hated Sara. There we were in Chicago and we couldn’t even enjoy it (or act like we were). All of us were scared of being outed as phonies so we didn’t talk at all in the street or at dinner. Jenny Jones picked up that tab as well. Once we got back to the hotel, we all went our separate ways since we had an early morning the next day. As I was flipping through the channels, I saw what I thought looked like porn. I flipped back and by golly it was! I quickly called Sara and Ari and asked them both if they had it too. Nope.

The next morning we were greeted by a rep from the show in the hotel’s lobby. We walked a few blocks, being blown by the wind the entire time (no wonder it’s the windy city). When we reached the studio we saw signs for Jerry Springer and Jenny Jones (they both taped in the same place). Hopping on the elevator, I could hardly contain my excitement! The assistant led us to our green rooms. I was shocked when Sara and Ari were put in the same room and I was the outcast.

In my room, there was another girl sitting there. We sat there in silence for a little while and then the small talk ensued. She was from Utah and she was in beauty school with her former friend who, I assumed, was in the other green room. I can’t do the room justice, but I’ll try. We had a very small television that only had one channel and even that had static, there were two warm, flat Cokes, and two stale sandwiches. Whatever. A new lady came in and said that she was there to do our hair and make-up. While she was working on me, she told me that she did make-up for Playboy and “those girls don’t look anything like that in real life.” While I was getting gussied up for my debut, assistants kept running in and out, asking us questions about our stories and then telling us that the other girls were saying terrible things about us. This went on for an hour. When both of us were ready, we were sitting on the couch waiting to be called onstage. The door opened and Jenny herself was standing there. I was soooo excited!!!! “So you’re the other women,” she said coolly. Ouch. She asked us some questions and, I’ve held my tongue long enough, she was a bitch. At least to us.

By the time we were standing backstage Sara and I were actually pissed off at one another. We had NEVER had a fight and I was furious with her for being so nasty about me and vice-versa. The audience erupted in cheers and we walked out on stage. The first love triangle went first and told their story for a half an hour. Audience members booed and clapped and were really going after the guy. Whew! I was safe. The original plan was for us to fight and then realize the error of our ways and leave as one big happy family. We were sitting on stage the entire time so it was a little uncomfortable sitting in front of everyone and not talking. Finally it was our turn.

Next time: Batter Up!

Links:

He’ll Learn To Love Me: Part 1

Could you lie to this woman?

“Allie, when you get off drugs and come down offa your high, you can call me back and talk sensibly to me. Until then, I don’t want to hear from you!” And on that note, my mother slammed down the phone. Wow! I didn’t expect that. All I was doing was calling her to tell her that I was about to board a plane for Chicago to be on the Jenny Jones Show. Now when I say I was going to be “on” the Jenny Jones Show, I mean just that. None of this “I’m-gonna-sit-in-the-audience-and-be-on-t.v.” nonsense. That’s not my style. When I go, I go big.

It started as a prank. I love practical jokes more than anything else. It was a warm day in April 1993 and I was watching television with my roommate, Sara. While flipping through the channels I stopped just in time to hear the announcer say, “If you’re two friends fighting over the same man, give us a call. You could be a guest on our show.” Before I actually thought about what I was doing, I had the phone in my hand dialing the 800 number. I knew that I’d only be able to leave a brief message on the show’s voicemail, but it was worth a shot.

“Thanks for calling the Jenny Jones Show. What’s your story?” the female voice chirped. It wasn’t a recording. Adrenaline kicked in and I started rambling about how my roommate had been dating this guy and I’d stop at nothing to have him. I had seen enough of Basic Instinct, Single White Female, and Fatal Attraction to concoct an amazing story. “Well, I’ll pass this along to the producers and we might call you back if they’re interested.” I walked back into the common area, a little dejected. “I tried,” I told Sara. She went to work and I headed out to class.

An hour and a half later I got back to the apartment and I checked my voicemail. “Hi Allie, this is Julia from the Jenny Jones Show. Could you please call me back collect?” OMG! OMG! OMG! I frantically dialed the number and when she answered I could hardly contain my giddiness. I related the entire story to her and she told me that she needed to talk with Sara to verify our story. I gave her Sara’s work number and called her as soon as I hung up with Julia so I could give her a heads up. Luckily, she had been in the room when I was making up the story earlier in the day, so she knew the basic idea of what was going on.

After a few minutes, my phone rang again and it was Julia. “Hey, I need the name and phone number of the guy involved.” Shit! I hadn’t thought that far in advance. I didn’t know any guy who would go along with this story except my boyfriend, Ari. I blurted out his name and number, hung up the phone, and ran over to his apartment. He lived only a building or two away from me so I made it just in time to spew the same story to him before the phone rang. “Make me sound like a bitch,” I hissed. He went along with the story and hung up. “She said she’d be in touch,” he told me. My hopes of going nationwide were being dashed until later that evening. My phone rang and Julia informed me, “Okay, your story is great. We want you on the show. What’s the closest airport to you?” I told her and she added one more tiny detail: ALL of us involved had to go.

“But we need all three of you,” Julia told me. Ari had zero interest in going on the show. “I know how they tear guys up on that show. No way!” I begged, pleaded, offered sexual favors (not really), but he resisted. When Julia called him back, he told her the same story. For ten minutes they went back and forth: him trying to NOT be on the show and her trying to get him on there. Then I started hearing him talking numbers with her. WTF?! “Nah, I’m not doin’ that for $200. No way.” Back and forth again and the numbers kept getting higher. Finally he said, “600 dollars?! I’ll do it.” She agreed to pay him, but he was told not to tell either of us about the money (we were getting a free trip to Chi Town, that was good enough for us; plus we didn’t even think that getting paid was an option.

“I’m in,” Ari said after he hung up the phone. “We’re leaving tomorrow evening at 5:30.”

Next Time: Winging it in the Windy City

Would have preferred this type of swinger

Read Part 1 First

My husband and I left the pool area and headed down to the beach so we could swim in the ocean and laugh at what we just had witnessed. Well, who comes bounding down the beach in our direction? All three couples. We had been spotted and they were coming in for the kill.

I swam closer to Chris and looked over his left shoulder. I whispered in his ear, “Please look behind you and tell me that what you’re seeing and what I think I’m seeing are the same thing.” He casually turned around and said, “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I think it is.” The guy from Missouri was holding the girl from Missouri by her shoulders as she floated on her back…with her bathing suit bottoms off…while the girl from PA was, how should I say this delicately, pleasuring her orally. Yep, she went down south. She was eating at the Y. She was diving for muff. I think you get the idea. Chris went over to them and said, “You guys need to take that to the room. This is a public beach and there are kids around.” It was four in the afternoon. They laughed and one of them said, “We’re just trying to have a good time.”

Apparently we were the party poopers. We headed in the opposite direction and were met by the AK couple. He engaged me in conversation (or was trying to) as his wife wrapped her legs around my husband. Chris threw his arms in the air to show me that he was having nothing to do with this. I heard her say to him, “You probably came out of the womb fucking. Well you’ve met your match today!” She leaned in like she was going to kiss him and he pulled away. Her husband looked at me and said, “Does that bother you?” When I said that it did, he replied, “Why? You know who he’s going home with tonight. Why should that bother you?” I just looked at him and said, “It just does. Now either you can tell her to get off of him or I’m gonna pull her the fuck off of him!” His eyed widened and he called to his wife, “Baby! Baby! Stop!”

Well, she did. But not before pulling off her bathing suit top and pushing Chris’s face in her boobs. She pulled him away and said, “Whattya think of these tits?” He looked at me and then looked at her and said, “Um, they’re okay.” She flipped and screamed, “OKAY?! As much as I paid for them they should be more than okay!” and then kicked him in the nuts. By that time, we knew that we were in over our heads. The girl from PA swam over to me with the girl from AK beside her and tried pulling me into their three-way kiss. When I pulled away from her, she just looked at me. I said, “I don’t judge, but I’m just not into that. Sorry.”

As I let the girls down easy I looked about twenty feet behind them. Having sex in the water was the couple from Missouri. With the guy from Arkansas standing within a foot of them coaching, “Oh yeah, keep ‘er going’ Keep ‘er goin’. Don’t stop. Let ‘er finish. Take ‘er to the end.” That was it. I couldn’t take any more of this. It had gone beyond creepy and freaky. I looked at Chris and he had the same look in his eyes as I had. While we were saying goodbye to the guy from PA, coach came over and grabbed me by the wrists. “Where are you goin’? We’re just havin’ fun.” I told him that it was late and we needed to get ready for dinner. He looked at Chris and said, “I’m not gonna fuck your wife. I mean, I would fuck her, she’s fuckable, but I’m not gonna do that. But how would you like to see my wife and your wife get it on?”

By that point I wanted to vomit, but he probably would’ve been into that too. Chris and I made a hasty retreat to the room and we started laughing. “The very first people that you ever meet and introduce to me on vacation are swingers. Nice job.” I  was just happy that it was our last day and we wouldn’t have to see them again, ever. We went to dinner and hung out that evening, still trying to comprehend what had gone on. The next morning, we went down to the buffet and Chris left a little before I did so he could get our bags. While I was leaving the restaurant, I was thinking how lucky I was not to see them there. “Virginia? Is that you?” For the love of Abraham! It was the guy from Alabama wanting to chat it up. I shook my head no and quickly walked through the door and into the safety zone.

Nope. Not this type of swingers.

As outgoing as I am among people that I know, if you get me around strangers I’m an instant introvert. However, if you get some alcohol in me, that changes (as evidenced in other W.T.T.). While vacationing in Cancun this past June, my husband thought it would be funny to enter me in a beer drinking contest at our resort. There were only two problems with this: 1. I don’t really drink and 2. beer isn’t my drink of choice. But like the little trooper that I am, I took one for the team and chugged. Thankfully it was how quickly one could drink the beer and not how much. I came in second to a large Mexican “woman.” I say “woman” because she had a mustache and I swear she was a man in drag. Anyway, here’s where it gets a little ugly.

After the contest, I decided to swim over to the bar and get a beer for the husband and a pina colada for myself. As I was sitting on the bar stool waiting for my bevies, a guy about my age asked if I wanted to do a shot with him and some other people. Naturally I said yes. After the group shot-taking, he asked this kid next to me how old he was (did I mention I was tailed by a youngster on my way over?) and the kid said that he was 20. “Get the fuck outta here! I’m old enough to be your daddy!” Then the guy asked how old I was and when I told him, he asked if I was alone or with someone. I pointed out my husband in the crowd and he told me to come back over because he “needed to party” with people his own age.

I was so proud of myself! I swam back over and insisted that my dear husband meet my new pals. He was reluctant at first, but I insisted. When we got back to the bar, my buddy was still there with his wife and two other couples. Couple #1 was from Arkansas. He was a K9 officer and she was an eighth grade English teacher. Couple #2 was from Missouri and I have no idea what either of them did. Couple #3 was from Pennsylvania. She was a student and he worked for the Flyers. Good people just enjoying the sun and conversation. Suddenly I looked over and saw the women in the group showing their boobs to each other. Okay, whatever. No big deal. Granted this was a family-friendly resort and we were next to the kiddie pool, but oh well.

A few minutes later, I looked over to see the woman from PA licking the nipple of the woman from AR. Whoa! But we were having a nice conversation with the gentlemen from the group so I ignored them. A few minutes more passed and then I saw the woman from Missouri full-out making out with the one from PA. Um , okay. I’m not close-minded and who am I to judge so I still didn’t say anything. It eventually got so bad that the manager came out and asked the ladies to leave the pool area. My husband and I laughed about it and headed to the beach since the show was over. But we were soooooo wrong!

Next Time: Things get a little NSFW

I’d never been to Fayetteville. I’d never been to a masonry competition. I’d never chaperoned an overnight field trip. So yeah, count me in!

The next week all of us were off. Six boys,four girls, and the masonry teacher packed into a white van heading down 95 south. The kids were talking and laughing and I was getting to know Mr. Williams a little better. We worked at the same place, but I’d only said hi to him in the hallways. He was telling me that when we got to the hotel, I’d have my own room and I didn’t have to go to any of the competitions, but just hang around at night and take the kids to the mall if they wanted to go. Sounded more than reasonable to me. Then we got to the hotel.

Mr. Williams asked me to stay with the kids as he checked us all in, so I did. When he made his way back through the masses of teenagers that had swarmed the hotel, he told everyone to head on down the hall to their rooms. As we walked, I asked him if I could have my room key.

“Oh yeah, there’s been a mistake. Your room was given away so you’ll have to share a room with me.” Oh sweet mercy, this is not happening! I would have to share a room with a 50 year old married man. “Um, okay,” I said hesitatingly. I walked into the room and exhaled as I saw two double beds. Well, at least I wouldn’t have to share a bed with the old coot. After a while, his buddy (another teacher) came into our room with a brown bag. He proceeded to give Mr. Williams a drink of Hennessy and had one himself. I declined. The kids came by the room and asked if I’d take them to the mall. I was out the door in an instant!

When we were on our way back to the hotel after a couple of hours hanging out at the mall one of the kids said, “Yeah, Mr. Williams was real happy that you said you’d come with us. He said that he thought you’d like to party.” “Yeah, I’m chaperoning a field trip with teenagers, partying is the last thing I need to be doing,” I replied. Another girl chimed in, “Well, you know why he wanted us to ask you to go, right? He thinks he’s gonna get some from you later on. His friend that was supposed to room with him took your room to make it easier.” Glad I had such a stellar reputation. I knew that I had to get out of that room. Quickly.

I went to the front desk when we got back and asked if they had any rooms available. Nope. So I flew to the nearest pay phone in the lobby and frantically started looking for hotels in the yellow pages. I called every single one of them. No rooms at any inn. With the competition being one for the state, all of the hotels were booked. I slunk back to my room and prepared for the night.

Mr. Williams was a little looped when I got to the room and his friend was hanging around, but left soon after I came back. I said I was going to bed and went into the bathroom to change. Luckily, I was in my flannel phase and not in the hot sexy lingerie one, so that made things a bit easier. I crawled into my bed and he was already in his. I tucked the sheets and blanket tightly around me, like that was going to keep him away if he wanted some. Ten minutes or so passed and then I heard from the darkness, “Ooooo, my back is killin’ me! I sure could use a back rub.” Sweet merifcul banana biscuits, I needed a plan and fast! So I did what any self-respecting gal would’ve done: I made snoring sounds and ignored him. “You awake over there?” he asked. More snoring and a grunt.

The next day I went took the kids to the competition and stayed as far away from Williams as I could. That night it was the same deal. I was snug (sleeping with one eye open) in the bed and he was across the way asking for a rub down. More snoring. At 1:20 a.m. the phone rang. I answered and it was a lady from another hotel. Two of our girls had crept out and were partying with some guys from another school. Salvation!!!!! I went and picked them up, lectured them about the dangers of doing something like that, and insisted to Mr. Williams that I needed to sleep in the girls’ room in case they tried to do it again.  “But they don’t have an open bed,” he replied. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” I muttered. So I did. No blanket, no pillow, just me and some carpet.

The next morning, I went back into the den of sin and gathered my things. Williams had left a present for me: a license plate that said “BRICK. It’s harder than you think.” I put it in my bag and was happy that bricks were the only things that got laid on that trip.

Before

Heading to the finish line, I knew he was going to beat me. And it stung. There was no way that could happen. I was the runner, not him. This was the moment that I’d been training for and what had he done to prepare? Nada. So as I watched him head down the road, throngs of cheering fans encouraging everyone to finish, an idea popped into my head. Suddenly I went down, held my ankle, and started screaming. Being the kind soul that he is, he stopped and turned around without hesitation to come back to help me. As soon as he stooped down to check out the ankle, I leapt up screaming, “SUCKER!’ and raced towards the finish line. He still beat me, but I almost had him.

Later that evening, my boyfriend Chris, and friends Tyler and Tina decided to celebrate our finishes by heading out on the town. Tyler and Tina had lived in Virginia Beach for a number of years so they knew of cool places to hang out. We went to the first bar and before I knew it, I had downed three or four martinis. They weren’t real martinis, but more of the pretty drinks with sassy names that cost $9 each. Feeling pretty good, but being a little bored, we decided to head to the local piano bar, Crocodile Rocks. I had wanted to go there for some time and what better night than this? We made our way through the dimly lit, smokey room and grabbed an available table.

As the dueling pianos played, people were singing and laughing and drinking. We were no exception. One group obviously just came from a Renaissance fair and was still wearing the costumes to prove it. After about an hour, one of the piano players stopped, looked out into the crowd and said, “Do we have any drunk sluts in the audience?” As soon as the last word came out of his mouth, Chris, Tyler, and Tina all looked at me and Chris said, “DON’T!” but it was to late. I was screaming through the crowd as I made my way to the stage. I was a little annoyed that there were other “ladies” <ahem> on stage with me, but I’d manage to hold my own in whatever was going to happen.

The piano players started playing and I was thrilled because it was “Hey Ya” by Outkast. I loved that song (even more so now that I couldn’t really walk)!! The girls on stage starting dancing and I’m over to the side working my moves. In my head, I’m the hottest dancer on the stage…or in the place, for that matter. When I looked over i was shocked to see a few of the other girls were grinding and rubbing on each other. Oh no, they were NOT going to take the attention and the love of the crowd from me. No sir! At one point I believe that I was whipping an imaginary lasso over my head and doing some sort of dance that reminded me of Marsha Brady. The true sluts kept rubbing and loving on one another. Finally I had enough! There was only one thing to do and the music could not have been cued more perfectly.

You know the part in the song where Andre 3000 talks about breakin’ it down for the fellas and ladies. It kind of goes into a little acapella “Sh-sh-sh-shake it like a Polaroid picture…” At that point, I jumped onto one of the pianos, butt facing the crown, and began dry humping the piano. I had the crowd back on my side. The other girls actually stopped dancing to look at me. Well, that and the fact that one of the piano players stopped and said, “Careful, I’ve gotta play this thing all night!”. The song finished and I made my way past my fans. My friends were cracking up. A middle-aged lady came up to me and told me that I was a better dancer than “half of those skanks up there.” I guess that was a compliment. The drinking continued.

After

A little later the piano players stopped again and asked the crowd, “Do we have any girls with big butts in the room?” Well, I didn’t, but I could dream, right? My friends begged me not to do it, but my public needed me. I went back on stage and got my white girl overbite on to “Baby Got Back.”I don’t remember this part, but apparently I almost got into a fight onstage with another girl who did indeed have a large posterior because she was working it like Beyonce and I pushed her out of the way to shake what my mama gave me (which isn’t much). The song ended and the crowd cheered. I raced off-stage to the bathroom and puked in the toilet, went back to the table and ordered another drink. I mean, I had to wash the taste out of my mouth somehow.

Finally Tina and Chris decided that it was time to leave as Tyler and I had enjoyed the drinkies a little too much. I whined, “But I’ve got to say good bye to my new friends” and went over to the Renaissance group. I hugged some of the girls and told them that I loved them. We all walked (well, staggered) out to the car, but not before I threw up again and peed in the parking garage. Tina and Chris were sober so they enjoyed my company, I’m sure. The next morning was hell. I had never been as sick and hungover in my life. Unfortunately I couldn’t sleep it off because Chris and I needed to head back to Staunton. So we left and I was miserable until we got almost to Charlottesville. I perked up a bit then.

To this day, I can’t listen to Outkast without thinking about my time in the spotlight. Much to my disappointment, Crocodile Rocks was closed down not too long after that for ABC violations. Apparently they kept serving people alcohol when they were obviously intoxicated already. Surprise, surprise. I haven’t been out drinking with Tyler and Tina since then, but they always like to bring it up when I see them. I’m just grateful that it wasn’t caught on film…or maybe it was. YouTube here I come!

It's all fun and games until someone loses a leg

I don’t condone violence of any sort. I’ve never been in a fight in my life and even boxing makes me a little uncomfortable, but being a high school teacher, I’ve seen my share of fights. Most of them are yelling or shoving matches that are broken up fairly quickly, but others are bloody and seem to last forever. In fifteen years I’ve had two fights in my classroom. Both happened on days when I was giving a test (perhaps they were planned).

In one of these fights, a young man got up in the middle of the test, put his pencil on his desk, calmly walked across the room and cold-cocked this other kid right in the face. He then grabbed the kid by the neck and maneuvered him into a headlock. That one was over fairly quickly. The second fight I should’ve known was going to happen. In the middle of the test, a young man took off the shirt he was wearing and put on a wife beater before he slugged the other kid. That fight got so out of hand that I had to have other teachers come in to help me.  They knocked over desks, made highlighters explode, tore pages out of dictionaries…they were going at it. I just remember trying to get all of the others students out safely (the one on crutches was the most difficult).

The best fight that I have ever witnessed was in Weldon, NC. I was sitting in the teachers’ lounge one morning, grading papers when I heard this awful screaming. When I walked out the door, I saw (and heard) the secretary screaming, “OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW! I SAID OPEN THIS DOOR!” while she was banging on it with both fists. When the door opened, I could not believe what I saw. Two girls were rolling around on the floor and the principal was crawling towards the door. I couldn’t figure out why he was on the ground until he was fully out of the way. Apparently he tried to get in-between the fighters and was knocked to the ground, but not before one of the girls yanked his prosthetic leg off of him and was using it to beat the other girl. I can still see the shoe and sock that were attached to it.

I know I should’ve helped the others who were trying to break up the girls, but I was paralyzed. I had never seen anything like that before in my life (and haven’t since then). All I could do is stand there with another teacher and laugh in disbelief. I felt horrible for laughing, but that was the last thing that I expected to see happen in a fight. The fight was stopped, the principal re-attached his leg and the day continued as normal, but that was the day that fights in school were redefined for me.

Don't cross paths with these guys

So I wrecked my car in my parents’ driveway. It happens. Okay, it’s actually happened more than once, but the last time I drove through the garage door and didn’t hit another vehicle. So what. That’s not what this is about. It’s about the second most embarrassing moment in my life.

I was pulling into the driveway as my mom was pulling out. Neither of us saw the other and we collided. Her car was fine, mine was a little battered. The front end was pretty torn up, but it was still drivable. At the time I was house-sitting for a friend of my mother’s in Stuarts Draft. She told me that I needed to hurry up and get to her friend’s house because it was the night of the annual Fireman’s Parade and I wouldn’t be able to get to their house when that started. I needed to go feed the animals, so I drove my battered ‘81 Dodge Colt (yellow with a brown racing stripe…hot) down 340 to Draft.

I decided to go the back way because I just wanted a more scenic route. As I neared the end of the road, I saw people lined up for the parade. I was thinking to myself how smart I was because I actually beat the parade itself. The roads weren’t blocked off and I was good to go. I turned left onto Main Street and went about twenty yards before I stopped in the middle of the road. Coming down the street directly in front of me was the parade.

Now if I had been turning the other way, I could’ve just driven ahead of the parade and been fine. I could ‘ve faked being the Grand Poobah, and waved. It was too late. I was trapped. So I did what anyone else would’ve done: I sat in my mangled car, windows rolled down, and waited (I even turned it off). Majorettes had to re-route their formations to actually go around my car, the Shriner’s drove their teeny cars around mine, circling it as if it were roadkill. Floats had to be pulled over to the side and people had to move their chairs from the sidewalk to make room for it. My favorite part had to be when the kids went by throwing candy into the crowd. Someone must’ve radioed back to them that I was there because they didn’t throw, they pelted me with Starlight Mints and Tootsie Rolls. A kid not even a foot away from me hit me in the face with a Bit-o-Honey.

So I sat there until the parade was over. It was probably only about a half an hour in reality, but it felt like hours that I had to sit there. It’s summer and the Fireman’s Carnival is gearing up again, but this time I’m not going anywhere near that town on the day of the parade.