Fah – A Long, Long Way To Run

So my tiny big twin sister who is two years my senior blogged today about seven random Her-facts. (Click it up, yo.) And I thought, I shall respond blog! So this may be about me, may be about JenJen…we’ll see. (But really, it’ll make more sense if you read her post first.)

(1) She sat on her pet chincilla (by accident). I of course remember this because I got a phone call from a despairing JenJen about the sound that was haunting her. But moreso, I remember the time Breakfast (a freak cat she and her hubby decided to adopt for the sake of their saner, pedigree cat – which lemme just digress and say don’t get a pedigree cat and then a pound cat and not expect hilarity) pooped down her shoulder. THAT phone call was a whole nother ballgame but I may have laughed. Out of holy carp how does that *happen*?!

(2) Oh, JenJen. Your fear of the dark and my love of falling asleep in pitch blackness is the only thing that could have made us incompatible roommates. Of course, we just shared a bed sometimes so. That took care of that.

(3) I still think it’s weird that you drive. Oh and I drove illegally my entire senior year of high school. I got my license when I was like 20?

(4) Man, that woman made the years come alive  with freshness. O_O Sadly, my only comparable story is about two eighth grade boys with Asperger’s. Think of Laurel and Hardy in terms of disparate appearance, add a healthy serving of Of Mice and Men, and add me as a repeat substitute teacher. The skinny, shorter one was the “thinker”; the huge, tall one was not. They were not friends. But the shorter one had this problem where he’d inject himself into any and all communications happening throughout the classroom. The taller one I’d had several times before and other than having to make clear his boundaries in terms of tact and personal space, he was manageable. Until the shorter one decided to champion the taller one’s human rights. I kid you not, he stood up and started yelling to the taller one that he was being disrespected and that everyone was out to get him and that this would not stand and he would not sit idly by while the taller one was “railroaded”. Needless to say, my face looked a little something like this:

Man, that picture never gets old.

So, unfortunately, the taller one decided that with the support of his short defender, he now had the courage needed to confront the world. He threatened my life and ran out of the classroom. He showed up in the front office, threatened to break the necks of about three women and then went home to “get a gun”. So. Needless to say, the school went on lockdown and the authorities were called. When the principle asked what he could do to make me feel safe enough to return as their constant substitute, I kindly explained the ridiculousness of a public school being put in charge of children with diagnosed personality disorders who have acted out violently in the past and told him not to wait up.

(5) Yeees, the double jointed shoulder thing. Oh how I used to love to swing my arms backwards over my head with my fingers laced. Recently I began to wonder if that ability had anything to do with the multiple times my arms fell out of the socket in early primary school. I remember being at Liberty Towers which means it was 3rd grade or before, sitting on the floor watching a movie while resting on the palms of my hands. And I remember the most excruciating pain suddenly setting my shoulders on fire before I fell backward and had no control over my arms. I just laid there crying until the teacher came and picked me up. The next thing I remember was being laid up on the couch in my living room, still crying and aching. That would not be the last time. Good times.

(6) I used to love to record myself singing.

I refuse to elaborate.

(7) Let me just say… “Why you tippin’ in here?”

 

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9 thoughts on “Fah – A Long, Long Way To Run

  1. Those are wonderful stories/comments honey. Your life never disappoints. Here’s a life to no more crazy kids with guns. Cuz then I would have to get a gun too, and then I would be the bad guy…some world we live in. If you’re man enough to threaten peoples lives shouldn’t you also be man enough to get a beat-down as a response to that threat. Just sayin…(don’t forget the “just sayin” rule. I can say the most offensive thing ever, but as long as I end my rant with “just sayin” everything is cool)

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  2. Pingback: Me, a name I call myself | Pretty in PDX

  3. 1. Thanks for bringing up that shit for Breakfast. I had scrubbed my brain free of it and now? I’ll have to use BLEACH.
    2. I remember saying: Hey! Know what would be fun? If we pushed our beds together! Yeeeah! You were like Pssssh. Not tonight.
    3. Everyone says that. Carlton complimented me on my driving skills. I’ve…been driving (well) for six years now. O_O
    4. Fun! Also, THAT PICTURE WILL NEVER NOT MAKE ME LAUGH MY LIMBO OFF.
    5.Still laughing. Even though I’m sure that was really painful. But I wouldn’t know because I liked to keep my arm in it’s socket.
    6. And farting!
    7. Why YOU lurkin’ on the couch?

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