Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Some Pictures I Found a Few Weeks Ago, Some Of Which I Wish I Hadn't

I found this picture was so horrified that it was just as bad as I remembered that I thought, "Oh, God! Horrible! I have to put this on the blog." I mean, no wonder everyone wanted to beat my ass in eighth grade. I had been blaming it on Lisa, the remorseless rumor-spreader, but come on. This is Exhibit A in her defense right here. The earrings. Coordinated with my top. The necklace, with what, a ring? What is that? And pink eyeshadow. Nice. Dig my hair. What is going on with my hair? And someone get me some braces, stat.

But let me draw your attention to the piece de resistance, the eyebrows. When I met Jurgen Nation a few months ago, I had this picture in mind when I challenged her to an eyebrow-off, but she didn't appear prepared to face the challenge. That's all right. One look at these caterpillars crawling across my forehead and one has to wonder, "Who can?"

No one.












Actually, I think I'm looking somewhat cute here in first grade, but why on earth did my mom let me leave the house dressed like Dorothy from "The Wizard of Oz" when it wasn't Halloween? Did I throw an epic tantrum to be allowed to wear this outfit and the Dorothy hairstyle? I hope I wasn't wearing replica ruby slippers, too.











Aww, yeah. Who is like so punk rawk?! I don't know which picture embarrasses me more, this one or the first one. It probably took 90 minutes every morning to slap on all that makeup.

This is the year I wound up in the mental hospital, actually. I'll probably write about that someday.







Well, I did smile some of the time. I posted this picture because I want to talk about how you should be prepared for whatever you find when you Google an old friend from the past.

This is my friend Preston from 10th grade. He had a heart the size of Texas and was so great to me that year. He was just a really, really great friend. I wonder how he's doing and what he's up to from time to time.

A few years ago, I Googled him and found nude pictures. I mean, hey. I'm not one to judge. But what am I supposed to say? "Hi, Preston! Remember me? Saw your nude pics online and just wanted to say hello! Uh, lookin' good!"








This is what happens at slumber parties. Well, this, and saucy renditions of the "Greased Lightning" dance.








For once, this isn't an embarrassing memory, but a fond one. Trish and I went to the Renaissance Faire in Novato, CA, in 1991. We stopped by the Golden Gate Bridge on the way because Trish, being from the L.A. area, had never seen it before.

We had just met and become roommates a few weeks earlier, and she couldn't stop marveling at the differences between Southern and Northern CA. "When you signal to merge, people let you in?!! Everyone is so nice here!" "Oh my God. Look at the squirrels!" "Wow, there is just, like, no traffic here, is there?" It was like hanging out with someone who had been on another planet for the last decade and was just catching up.

It was a gorgeous, sunny day. When we got to the bridge, I ran ahead and busted this move, just 'cause. Then we leaned over the side to spit and watch it drift to the water. Our spit made a splash. Just after that, we turned around to find a sign that said spitting off the bridge was illegal, punishable by fine. We booked it back to her car, and continued across to the Faire, blasting "Lights." It was nice to look at my city with new eyes that day.