Heidi's Hell Hole

I haven’t been on the dating scene for awhile, that is true. But before I got married, divorced, and started dating Bryan, I had my fair share of dates. (Yes, Pook, yo’ Mama used to be a hottie.) Here’s some tales.

 

My first formal dance, I went with a kid named Scott. It was the first dance for the both of us. We were both nervous. We went to a local “upscale” burger joint. I sat there, fidgeting and fussing with my corsage, trying awkwardly to make conversation. I ordered a soup and salad. Scott ordered a garlic onion burger. Oy Vey. The slow dances were awkward, to say the least. He didn’t get a kiss at the end of the night. I heard later that his Dad took him aside to school the boy on what not to order on a date.

 

 

My ex-husband proposed in the worst possible way. First of all, if you’re gonna propose marriage to a gal, have a damn ring. And make it a bit more romantic than, “Hey, you wanna get married?” So, when I told him he’d need a ring and something better than “Hey, you wanna get married?” bless his heart, he tried. We went to a hockey game, even though I could care less about hockey. The game was uneventful. When we got out to the car he smacked his head and yelled, “CRAP!” I thought he’d forgotten something back in the arena, but no. He’d forgotten to propose. Le sigh. Way to say you care. He said he was going to propose during the game, with us up on the Megatron. But he’d forgotten. I grabbed the box from the glove compartment and jammed it on my finger. And yet, I still married him…Omens, anyone?

 

 

Right after Pook was born, Bryan and I went out to try and celebrate our two year anniversary together. I was only 3 weeks postpartum, leaky, hormonal, tired, and not in the best of moods. But we made plans to go out to dinner & a movie, and my inlaws would watch Pook for a few hours. I had given up on nursing that very day. Nobody told me I’d still lactate, and that I’d still need my nursing pads. Me, not having the forethought to read up on that kind of stuff, stuffed a fresh pair of pads into my bra and left for dinner. Halfway through dinner the waitress asked if I needed a towel. Puzzled, I asked why. She said I’d spilled water on my blouse. I looked down…No, that wasn’t water. I was leaking everywhere. I ran into the bathroom, betrayed by my pads. I ended up stuffing scratchy paper towels down my shirt. After the movie, I was leaking again. I ended up going into the handicapped stall and more or less milking myself into the toilet. It wasn’t a great date.

 

 

Bryan and I had a rather unusual start. For one, I was freshly separated from my ex-husband. I was freeeee! Problem is, he’d cleaned out everything in the studio we had, leaving me with a mattress on the floor, a TV on the floor, and a set of flannel sheets in the middle of May. Oh yeah, in a display of maturity, he’d also completely trashed the place. Bryan offered to come over and help me put the place back together. Our first “date” involved going behind the grocery outlet to get milk crates to use as a box spring, and dumpster diving for a TV stand. (That we still have, by the way.) And, as a final romantic touch to the afternoon, he bought me Taco John’s. Ain’t he something? Hey, something obviously worked, we’re here three years later. We ended our perfect evening by going to a local bar for a few rounds of pool, Jell-O shooters, and beer. We’re klas-see.

 

 

That's about all I have. At least that I'm willing to post on the Internet. Hey, my Dad reads this stuff.

 

So the Spin Cycle this week is pets. My family has a thing for getting “special” animals. Here’s a few stories I have. The Old Wolf can add to them.

 

My parents bought my sister and I parakeets. I can’t remember why, but they did. I had a bright blue one, Skylar. My friend Julie and I were playing with Skylar on the carpet. My Mom told me a gazillion times that playing with Skylar in a high traffic area wasn’t a great idea. Because, I figured how can you miss a neon blue bird? As it turns out, it was pretty easy to miss. My Mom stepped on Skylar. Blood everywhere, and me screaming, “MOOOOOM!!! YOU STEPPED ON SKYLAR!”

 

So, my sister and I held a funeral for Skylar. We glued two popsicle sticks together to form a cross and wrote “Skylar” in red magic marker. We’d never been to a funeral before, so we sang what we knew of Amazing Grace, (which was just those two words) and said what we knew of the Gettysburg Address. (Which was, “Four score and seven years ago….Um, yeah…”) And then we played tetherball. Grief does funny things to you.

*                      *                      *

My Dad’s friend Larry lived with us for awhile. Uncle Larry had a “special” cat named Pooter. Pooter was blind in one eye and couldn’t walk a straight line. He’d walk in circles in the general direction to where he was going. He’d get there, eventually. He’d also walk into a wall, back up, and do it again. He’d continue to do that until you moved him. I shouldn’t laugh but….COME ON! The cat was retarded!

*                      *                      *

One summer day my Dad went out to his truck to find the cutest little black kitten on his hood. So, he brought it in, and we adopted it. Everything was going well, the cat appeared to be house trained. We left one night, and the cat somehow got locked in my bedroom. We came home and I was on the phone with my new boyfriend. I wasn’t paying attention, and flopped down on the bed. Soupy kitty crap goes flying up everywhere. I screamed bloody murder. I threw the phone and whipped around.

 

There’s soupy kitty crap in my hair, running down my shirt, into my bra. I’m freaking out and spinning around, thus sending crap all over my walls. My Mom and Dad come running in, as does H1. They’re trying to get me to stop and trying to stop laughing. I ended up being hosed down outside. The kitty quickly found a new home.

*                      *                      *

My ex husband and I had a cat for awhile, Spook. Spook was such a cool cat, personality plus. Spook didn’t start out special, she ended up special. My ex and I were transferring the navy blue sheets from the washer into the dryer. We slammed the dryer shut and prepared to leave. We heard this thump, thump, thump in the dryer. Thinking a shoe had somehow gotten in there, we opened it up.

 

Out shoots this black fur ball. Apparently, Spook being a curious cat, had gotten in the dryer and we hadn’t seen her jump in. We’d accidentally locked the cat in the dryer. After that, she never was right. Her balance was off, she couldn’t walk a straight line, and she was cross eyed.

 

So yeah….We’ve got special pets. Never a dull moment at my house.

So the new Spin Cycle is all about Prom.

Let me tell you about Prom in my world.

It was my life. Our school had a mixed Prom, meaning it was both Juniors and Seniors. I went all four years, via convincing the upperclassmen to buy me tickets. (Yeah, I was the annoying but cute freshman girl at your Prom.) Hell, I even went to others schools Proms. I went to one after I graduated because it was one last chance to dress up. (Senior Prom, apparently wasn't enough.) All in all, I think I figured that between Homecoming, & Prom between my school and other schools I went to something like 9 or ten dances. All with different gowns. (And for the most part, different guys.) (What? I didn't have very many girlfriends. I liked having guys as friends better.)

Ironically, for all the dances I went to I never once won Homecoming or Prom Queen. (YES, JESSICA, I KNOW YOU HAD THE ENTIRE CHEERLEADING SQUAD VO

I think it's something that can best be described in a pictorial. I've picked some of the best (or worst, depending on how you look at it) for your amusement.

 

Notice how I mostly ascribed to "Bigger the hair the closer to God" theory? And don't you love the tanorexic look?

Same dance. Yes, you're seeing it right. That's Adam. Wearing his ghee top. That he worked out in. Hey, SHUT UP, ALRIGHT? We were cool!

The theme was Oriental Romance. So I bought a traditional Cheong-Sam and yes, that's the same ghee top. Don't ask about the cheesy pose, okay? BTW, that's Cody, Adam's friend.

Again, with the bigger the hair, the closer to God theme. And that is Dave, Adam's brother. (Seeing a theme? I SWEAR we were all friends and no one minded.)

This is Senior Homecoming. That is Scott, Adam's friend. And yes, that's his cleaned up look. Did I mention at the time of this picture he was like 20? Hey, I needed a date dammit.

Okay, this is like the ONE picture where my hair isn't HUGE. But I go for drama with my gowns, (I know, right? Me? Dramatic? Never.) I loved the hugeness of the skirt, (which was helped by a crinoline), the bustle and the train. I loved it ALL.

Senior Prom. I took some foreign exchange student who I actually left at the Prom. What can I say, he was a douche. I was actually recovering from a nasty sunburn, and this picture was taken before my LOVELY twin sister told me to get rid of the peeling skin on my back she'd put duct tape on my back and she'd rip it off. Problem is, I believed her. The subsequent pictures aren't so pretty. Bitch.

Years from now, I'll have to explain to Pook, "You see honey, back then white tuxes and white patent leather shoes were the shit." This was the last formal dance I went to. I had already graduated. This is Caleb, Adam and I's friend.

 

To recap: I went to a dance with Adam, his brother Dave, his BFF Scott, his friend Cody and Caleb. Familiarity doesn't breed contempt all the time, folks.