I miss the AOL chat room.
The “good ol’ days” when u could sign-in on ur dial up connection, enter in any subject or key word, and chat with 1-? (but usually approx 5) people from 11pm to 5am, billowing smoke in the form of over-analytical under experienced/educated digital text, to empty the aggravated bee-hive of teenage thoughts from ur skull so u could survive the next day asleep in homeroom/english/chemistry (rave) class.
I am now in my 30’s feeling like a teenager with too many thoughts and no one to share them with.
Does High School ever end?
Someone, older and more successful than I, once told me:
“Life is just High School with money.”
This quote crosses my mind more often than not.. and it totally sux. The problem with the quote is that it is the Cliff’s Notes version. The full length novel continues:
“Life is just High School with money… except, forget about all of your hopes and dreams because they’ve lost they’re charm. After a few deaths, break-ups, countless years of rejection in your career, you find it hard to care as much and things are never as shiny or perky as the cum covered tits of that girl that you were on the dance team with, that got pregnant in the same water bed you had your first make-out in, at the same exact time….”
No! it wasn’t with the same guy, however yes, my first make out was the night our dance team had a sleep over.
I digress and confess. I actually created this blog this very evening to serve as some sort of weird confessional. Recently my 33yo brain has reverted to a hormonal, teen-angst driven, reckless driving brat, and to cool it out I’m sending it boot (blog) camp. I just saw “Going Clear” (#scientology) and got inspired. Back to that dance team party.
Most of the Dance Team at my HS were also Cheerleaders… and you know what that means. SLUTS! No really though, I think they were all much more into sex and the whole game of it (pun intended) than I have ever wasted time to wrap my head around. I was not the TOKEN but the #2 out of 3 “alternative” girls on the dance team. I happened to be the ONLY “alternative” girl to go to this particular Dance Team / Cheerleader sleepover. It works out, if you tell your mom one of the girls is having a sleep over for the Dance Team, everyone gets dropped off like its all good. In reality the persons parents are out of town and it’s just a completely unsupervised embarrassing teenage sin-fest. If shown in movie theaters it would rate NC-17, however I have yet to see anything as vulgar in a movie as the memory of that night so vividly playing in my brain. (TO BE CONT…)
I’m now realizing the length and intricacy of this story is a bit too involved for my over-worked antibiotic’d mind and deserves a full length feature so we will leave it as an Intro to Dance Team Sleepover 1996.
Maybe I don’t miss the AOL chat room THAT much. Masturbatory story telling did the trick, for tonight at least. I do feel better getting some of the bees out the trap and also can’t wait to divulge the NC-17 rated blog titled “Dance Team Sleepover 1996”.
’tis a Good Mourning of Corpse,
#sleepmyth
sleepmyth 