Tuesday, March 01, 2005

What a Bee-yatch

Yesterday, dooce asked her readers to share their most embarrassing moments. My own memory promptly undid years of therapy.

It was 8th grade, Home Ec class. Me and the girl who sat in front of me were passing notes. I had been scribbling about how much I loooooved Tony Montosa (sidenote: I Googled him just now to see if anything would come up, but nada) and did she think he liked me? She would reply that she thought there was a chance (IN HELL). I would reply with more musings on Tony's beauty and how we were just meant to be. She would agree instead of telling me the awful truth, like any decent friend would.

On one of the passes, our note was intercepted by the teacher (sidenote, again: I went to my school's web site, and she isn't listed anymore, which means she's retired, the cruel old bat). As she slowly strolled to the front of the class, she unfolded the note. "AH!" she exclaimed. "It seems that [nabbalicious] has a crush on you, Tony!"

Yeah. TONY WAS IN MY CLASS. I'll never forget. Two rows over, front of the classroom.

Tony clearly wanted to die. The pudgy acne-faced nerd girl liked him! Whatever. He didn't know from wanting to die. Our teacher proceeded to read the entire contents of the note. She even added voices and inflections. It was a full-scale, award-winning theatrical production. And she killed, of course. The class was roaring. Tony's friends were slapping him on the back, choking with laughter. I just kept my head on my desk, waiting for it all to be over.

Eventually, it was. I went home and told my mom what happened, and as further proof that she is the most awesome mom ever: she didn't make me go to school for the rest of the week.