REMINISCENT

I have decided that I am only doing a disservice to all of you by only posting stories about my own plights and calamities on this blog. Even funnier than my own drama is the drama of my friends and my reader(s). Therefore, I present (in no particular order) My Favorite Memories... and yes, if you're keeping track, this is another list. Also, I try not to name names in my blog, but in this post, nicknames are necessary to keep the stories straight (in other words, none of my friends are actually named Pelliroja).

1. After-school Trip?
The first one that comes to mind is from high school, as I'm sure many of these will. Petite Pelliroja always felt her best when wearing the platforms and heels that were not only stylish but served to put her at eye-level with the rest of us (not to mention that she dated a very tall fellow). After school, we would always part ways, her heading to the parking lot and me heading to the locker room to change for cheerleading practice. I'll never forget the day she came into the locker room, a bit dishelved, to fetch me. In a tone of voice more gruff than she'd ever used (with me), she barked "Lindsay I need your help, can you come with me?" Bewildered, I followed Pelliroja out of the locker room and down the hallway. I practically had to jog to keep up with her since she was marching - even with a limp - at a record pace. It wasn't until we were outside that I was fully aware of the situation. Poor Pelliroja, hasty to leave school, had tripped on the curb in her 4 inch shoes and had apparently landed facedown on the concrete! The only thing sadder than her skinned knees and palms (and that I missed her big fall) was the mess of textbooks and notebooks that had been tossed 5 feet in each direction when she fell. We got her books and backpack in order and I helped her to her car, and we laughed about it the next day. When Pelliroja got married, we were all very nervous that history would repeat itself, since she was once again wearing supertall shoes, but luckily, it didn't.

2. O-Face
One high school weekend found me, little Pelliroja, and three guys in a Jeep at the Summit. Brent had what some would call today a "Tricked Out", "Pimped", or even redneck (sorry, Brent) Jeep. It had really big tires and huge headlights and a spotlight on the side. I guess we'd had enough fun at the Summit, so we were making our descent down the big hill to get onto 280 when fate postitioned us behind a rough looking van. Brent was the first one to notice the shadows moving indicatively in the backseat. Curious, he turned his spotlight on and shone it into the rearview window of the van. The image that my eyes beheld that evening is one that has forever been etched in my brain. Luckily, we couldn't see what was happening neck-down, but thanks to the look on the gentlemen's face, we didn't have to guess. It was the most cliche moment ever: they were getting it on in the backseat of a van! While other people squired them about town! Pathetic. We could see the back of what I HOPE was a female's head, and then perched on her shoulder, facing us, was the head of one happy man. In fact, he was overcome with happiness, if you know what I mean. Even though his eyes were shut, the glare of Brent's spotlight - and probably the volume of our laughter - was enough to bring him off of Cloud 9. He opened his eyes and when he saw he'd been caught, he started screaming at us. Brent kept the spotlight on him for another minute or two, until the light turned green and the van escaped into the traffic on 280. Nasty. Word from the wise: if you are skanky enough to get it on in a moving van while traveling within the Greater Birmingham Area, go someplace where that's acceptable... like Chelsea.

3. the Leak
It seemed like another typical day of my Senior Year. I had Government during the period before lunch, and the only good thing about that was that a lot of my friends were also in there, including Pelliroja and another good friend of ours whom I'll call Little Bit. We were chatting before class, waiting for Little Bit to get there. Little Bit was always slightly dramatic/stressed, but deservingly so since she took all honors classes. Therefore, Pelliroja and I didn't think anything of it when Little Bit raced into the room, all a flurry. However, her distress on this particular day had nothing to do with her classes, but rather with her new water bra. Little Bit came into the classroom hugging two or three books to chest. She put the books down, turned to face Pelliroja and I, and in the blink of an eye, the day jumped from a 5 to a 10. There, on Little Bit's chest, for all to see, was a 6 inch circle of water. If the dark circle of water wasn't noticeable enough on her red turtleneck, the fact that her chest was now lopsided let everyone in on the secret: Little Bit's water bra had sprung a leak! Luckily, she found a jacket to cover herself up with, but it was too late because the whole class had seen. She never lived that one down.

4. The Day the Sun Stood Still
Another seemingly normal day during Senior Year and I found myself at cheerleading practice. The girls and I had adopted the habit of starting off practice with some push-ups. Since I had to do them as part of my upcoming Junior Miss competition, they were all supportive and did a set every day with me. We were circled up, about to start the push-ups, when out of the building strutted our cheerleading "Coach". I'm using that word loosely here, and with quotes, because "Coach" is not really the word I would have used to describe Velda (you have to have seen Troop Beverly Hills to understand that nickname). Cheerleading Chaperone, Cheerleading Superivsor, Cheerleading Adviser, Rule-Enforcer, Grade Giver, Demotivator, Bus Driver, Key Keeper, or Nazi would have suited Velda much better than "Coach." To coach a squad or team, you generally have to understand, if not have previously participated in, the sport/activity. Not only had Velda never cheered, she didn't know (or care?) a thing about it. She would just make stuff up and say it was the rules. Velda had been the Cheerleading "Coach" for well over a decade by the time I became a Varsity Cheerleader, and I'm fairly certain she was only in it for the stipend that the extracurricular "Coaches" received. But I digress; perhaps Velda and the many other stories I could tell involving her and her wigs will comprise her own post one day. Anyway, Velda had a large closet attached to her classroom, where she would always change clothes. It should be noted that this closet was shared with the male biology teacher, to whom the classroom next to Velda's belonged. I am NOT SAYING that anything fishy EVER happened, just that there was only a bookshelf, which was partially see-through, separating the two halves of the closet and Velda changed clothes 4 days a week in there. This particular day, Velda must have been in a hurry, because when she came strutting out of the building to come "coach" us at practice, we saw that she had forgotten to zip her pants and her lower belly/gut was hanging out of the zipper opening. Combine this with\s the girdle or some pre-Spanx kind of tummy sucker that Velda was sporting, and what you have is an approximately 4 x 2" wedge of shiny, taut beige fabric protruding from her equally taut black polyester pants. She strolled up to practice and when all 12 of us cheerleaders laid eyes Velda, we simultaneously burst into laughter and/or tears. Since this story is funnier if accompanied with an image, I took time to paint the following likeness of Velda and her tummy:
Here we have Velda, shoulders down. Notice the navy blue blazer, platform shoes, and the lone button on the polyester pants. which is hanging on for dear life. Well, of course after seeing that, push-ups weren't a possibility. We were all laughing too hard to even breathe, let alone do ten push-ups. We tried, and things got even funnier, because our arms couldn't hold us up since all of our strength was channeled to our eyeballs to control them from looking at Velda again and risk having our corneas burned from the sight. Several of us just rolled over onto ours back and laughed for 3 of 4 straight minutes. Finally, one of the girls stood up and went to tell Velda about the oversight. She quickly zipped her pants and masked her humiliation by yelling at us to run some laps.

5. Absurd High School Dance Stories, volume 1
It was January of our sophomore year and all of the ladies found themselves in need of dates to the Valentine's Dance. One by one, all of our friends asked suitable young lads to escort them to the dance. The way things worked in BriarWorld was that you told just a few people who you were going to ask, who told a few more people and so on until the male in question practically had a SOLD sign hung around his neck. Few exceptions this rule were tolerated, but every year there were always girls who didn't care whom they pissed off, and defied the unwritten rule by asking a guy who was supposed to have been asked by someone else. Our sophomore year, I'm sure many girls would have loved to have taken Richy Rich to the dance, but my friends and I had staked Pelliroja's claim on him (with her blessing). He happily accepted said claim, because Pelliroja is beautiful and well-liked, so that left one minor task to accomplish: actually getting Pelliroja to ask him to the dance. They saw each other frequently since they were in the same group of friends. In fact they might have dated had Richy Rich's best friend not had a massive crush on Pelliroja (unfortunately for him, he had already been asked to the dance). Anyway, I think the dance was like 2 weeks away and Pelliroja still had not verbally asked Richy Rich. Again, everyone knew they would go together, thanks to the gossip mill that IS my high school, but techincally, words needed to come from her mouth to seal the deal. Tired of avoiding the situation, Pelliroja's friends - myself included - set up a plan with Richy Rich to get them alone so that she would HAVE to ask him. Richy Rich was planning to stand there and talk to her until she asked him, even if it meant he was late to basketball practice. Pelliroja was the only one unaware of our plan, but I think it became pretty clear to her what was going on when Little Bit and I shoved her into the stairwell and held the door shut. That left only one option for Pelliroja: go upstairs to the other door, where Richy Rich happened to be lurking alone in the lobby of the school. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall in the lobby to have heard how awkward that conversation was, or how long it took for her to come out with it and ask him, but the important thing is that she DID. Pelliroja - you are welcome!