On April 21 2007, I had the pleasure of spending the evening with Iggy Pop on his 60th Birthday.
Mr. Misha and I, along with another couple, went to San Francisco to see Iggy and The Stooges in concert. We didn't know it was his birthday until we arrived. As we walked into the venue, the ticket takers handed out "Happy Birthday Iggy" buttons. We put our buttons on our lapels and waited for the show to start. I don't even remember if there was an opening band. All I remember was that all of a sudden-------THERE HE WAS.
All 5 foot 7 inches of him. Long, straight, light brown hair. Skin tight, low-rise jeans. Bare Chest. He ran, danced, sang, STAGE DIVED, jumped up and down; he did not stop moving for almost 2 hours. Even when the crowd sang Happy Birthday to him, he frolicked around the stage as black balloons emblazoned with his face fell from the ceiling.
Before we had gone to the show, I had been feeling a bit old. It was a few months before my 20th high school reunion. Seeing Iggy bound around the stage all night, full of energy and joy was like a tonic. I have been cruising along after that night in a bit of denial. I kept thinking to myself, "I'm not that old." Even when I had patients who were born the year I graduated from high school come in to deliver their babies, I still kept thinking, "I am still young."
Then I saw Belinda Carlisle on Dancing With The Stars. On August 17, 2008 she turned 50, a whole DOZEN YEARS younger than Iggy and a little more than a decade older than me. Don't get me wrong, she looked beautiful. But she MOVED old. She moved slower. She moved like she ached. She moved like I felt some mornings when I first get up or after a long shift of baby birthin'. It bugged me.
Look how cute she was dancing here:
The Go-Go's in 1984
Now look at her here:
Belinda Carlisle in 2009. I guess all the wild times of drugs and debauchery weighed more heavily on Belinda than they did on Iggy. Poor thing got booted off DWTS tonight. I am sad to see her go, but it serves her right for making me feel this way. I feel decrepit.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
No Green For Me
Mr. Misha and I went to see our tax lady last night. 2008 was a pretty shitty year for us financially. Since folks had very little disposable income, Mr.Misha's business was slow. Because of my work related injury last April, my income was really low. I didn't realize how little we were living on until it was all out there on her desk. It was a pretty sorry sight. For the first time since we have been married, Mr. Misha and I will be getting a refund. As we were signing our returns, Mr. Misha looked at me and said, "Who knew being poor would be so profitable for us?" I smiled until I realized we would see none of it. It will all go towards the taxes we still owe from previous years. That sucks.
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Monday, March 16, 2009
I Get A Little Mouthy When I Drink.
Back in my 20's, before I went to nursing school, I would go out drinking quite often. I am happy drunk, a very LOUD, but happy drunk. I usually don't puke. I definitely am not a fighter or a crying chick when I drink. I just get a little mouthy.
Jimrie, Luke and I went out drinking. Luke was going to drive and take care of us; Jimrie and I were going to get smashed. That was the plan. So we went to a little dive bar out of town. We knew the bartender; the place had pool tables and great music on the jukebox.
We were playing pool and drinking, having a good time. I can't remember what pool game we were playing, but I was "out" and Jimrie and Luke were playing against each other. I put some money in the jukebox and picked some songs. I then went to the bar, sat down and started to talk with the bartender.
There was this creepy man that kept staring at me. I asked the bartender about him and she said he was always there and was always trying to pick up women. I was hoping this guy would stay away from me. I had a good buzz, there were good tunes playing, I didn't want to be bothered.
NO SUCH LUCK.
The creepy man picked up his drink and moved to my side of the bar and sat a few bar stools away from me. I tried to ignore him. Jimrie and Luke finished their game and came over to hang out. I felt like I had a reprieve. Just then about a dozen, leather clad bikers come in the door. Jimrie jumps up and yells "Uncle so and so, where have you been?" She runs off to see her Uncle. Next thing I know, some old man comes up to Luke and says "Marine, I want to shake your hand." Luke shakes the man's hand and they start to talk about the Marine Corps. Once again, I am alone.
The creepy man moves right next to me and says; "Do you work out?"
I tell him no.
He says, "You look like you work out."
I say, "I used to go to the gym, but I injured my shoulder."
He says, "Was is the weight of you breasts that injured your shoulder?"
I replied "What?"
He said; "Your breasts are so large, I would think that it would put a lot of strain on your shoulders".
What kind of pick up line is that? What the hell? I looked around and there was no one around to save me. I had to go it alone...
I climbed up the barstool and stood up on the bar. I yelled really loud "Excuse me, excuse me."
The bar got quiet. I had everyone's attention.
"This man has just informed me that my boobs are big. I had no idea. All these years of black eyes and fat lips after running, I had no idea. All these years of men looking down when they talked to me, I thought they were admiring my necklace. All these years of shoulder and back pain, I had no idea. I want to thank you, sir. Thank you for pointing this out to me. Everything makes sense now. I want to buy you a drink."
I stepped off the bar, got back on my bar stool and took a swig of my beer. The guy got up and walked out of the bar. I received a round of applause. No one talked about my boobs the rest of the night.
Jimrie, Luke and I went out drinking. Luke was going to drive and take care of us; Jimrie and I were going to get smashed. That was the plan. So we went to a little dive bar out of town. We knew the bartender; the place had pool tables and great music on the jukebox.
We were playing pool and drinking, having a good time. I can't remember what pool game we were playing, but I was "out" and Jimrie and Luke were playing against each other. I put some money in the jukebox and picked some songs. I then went to the bar, sat down and started to talk with the bartender.
There was this creepy man that kept staring at me. I asked the bartender about him and she said he was always there and was always trying to pick up women. I was hoping this guy would stay away from me. I had a good buzz, there were good tunes playing, I didn't want to be bothered.
NO SUCH LUCK.
The creepy man picked up his drink and moved to my side of the bar and sat a few bar stools away from me. I tried to ignore him. Jimrie and Luke finished their game and came over to hang out. I felt like I had a reprieve. Just then about a dozen, leather clad bikers come in the door. Jimrie jumps up and yells "Uncle so and so, where have you been?" She runs off to see her Uncle. Next thing I know, some old man comes up to Luke and says "Marine, I want to shake your hand." Luke shakes the man's hand and they start to talk about the Marine Corps. Once again, I am alone.
The creepy man moves right next to me and says; "Do you work out?"
I tell him no.
He says, "You look like you work out."
I say, "I used to go to the gym, but I injured my shoulder."
He says, "Was is the weight of you breasts that injured your shoulder?"
I replied "What?"
He said; "Your breasts are so large, I would think that it would put a lot of strain on your shoulders".
What kind of pick up line is that? What the hell? I looked around and there was no one around to save me. I had to go it alone...
I climbed up the barstool and stood up on the bar. I yelled really loud "Excuse me, excuse me."
The bar got quiet. I had everyone's attention.
"This man has just informed me that my boobs are big. I had no idea. All these years of black eyes and fat lips after running, I had no idea. All these years of men looking down when they talked to me, I thought they were admiring my necklace. All these years of shoulder and back pain, I had no idea. I want to thank you, sir. Thank you for pointing this out to me. Everything makes sense now. I want to buy you a drink."
I stepped off the bar, got back on my bar stool and took a swig of my beer. The guy got up and walked out of the bar. I received a round of applause. No one talked about my boobs the rest of the night.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
You Guys Keep Tagging Me With These Dag-gum Things!
Here's what you're supposed to do - create a new blog/note, copy and paste this message into the new blog/note, type your answers, then tag a few friends and family INCLUDING the person who tagged you - But I am tagging NO ONE. Because that is how I roll.
THREE NAMES I GO BY
1. Michele
2. Misha
3. Meesh
THREE JOBS I HAVE HAD IN MY LIFE
1. Cocktail Waitress
2. Make up Artist
3. Registered Nurse
THREE PLACES I HAVE LIVED
1. Santa Ana, CA
2. Quantico, VA
3. Galt, CA
THREE TV SHOWS THAT I WATCH
1. United States Of Tara
2. Secret Diary Of A Call Girl
3. Big Love
THREE PLACES I HAVE BEEN
1. Hawaii
2. New Orleans
3. New York
THREE OF MY FAVORITE FOODS
1. Sourdough Baguette
2. Sushi
3. Creme Brulee
THINGS I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO
1. My injury healing
2. My husband coming home
3. Peace
THREE PETS THAT YOU HAVE OWNED
I am not going to answer this just because I object to the phrasing of the question. I have never really owned a pet. I have adopted a pet. I have been a guardian, a care giver, a sibling or a parent to a pet. But I have never felt like an owner of a pet.
THREE FRIENDS WHO WILL REPLY
1. No
2. One
3. Will
THREE FAVORITE BANDS/ ARTISTS
1. The B-52's
2. Earth, Wind and Fire
3. Aretha Franklin
THREE FAVORITE TEAMS TO WATCH
1. I liked the LA Dodgers when Tommy Lasorda was their coach.
2. I liked the 49ers when they were more competitive.
3. I had fun watching the Patriots when Brady was playing.
THREE FAVORITE DRINKS
1. Iced Venti, Quad Shot, Non Fat, No Whip, Peppermint Mocha
2. Diet Coke
3. Citron Collins
THREE NAMES I GO BY
1. Michele
2. Misha
3. Meesh
THREE JOBS I HAVE HAD IN MY LIFE
1. Cocktail Waitress
2. Make up Artist
3. Registered Nurse
THREE PLACES I HAVE LIVED
1. Santa Ana, CA
2. Quantico, VA
3. Galt, CA
THREE TV SHOWS THAT I WATCH
1. United States Of Tara
2. Secret Diary Of A Call Girl
3. Big Love
THREE PLACES I HAVE BEEN
1. Hawaii
2. New Orleans
3. New York
THREE OF MY FAVORITE FOODS
1. Sourdough Baguette
2. Sushi
3. Creme Brulee
THINGS I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO
1. My injury healing
2. My husband coming home
3. Peace
THREE PETS THAT YOU HAVE OWNED
I am not going to answer this just because I object to the phrasing of the question. I have never really owned a pet. I have adopted a pet. I have been a guardian, a care giver, a sibling or a parent to a pet. But I have never felt like an owner of a pet.
THREE FRIENDS WHO WILL REPLY
1. No
2. One
3. Will
THREE FAVORITE BANDS/ ARTISTS
1. The B-52's
2. Earth, Wind and Fire
3. Aretha Franklin
THREE FAVORITE TEAMS TO WATCH
1. I liked the LA Dodgers when Tommy Lasorda was their coach.
2. I liked the 49ers when they were more competitive.
3. I had fun watching the Patriots when Brady was playing.
THREE FAVORITE DRINKS
1. Iced Venti, Quad Shot, Non Fat, No Whip, Peppermint Mocha
2. Diet Coke
3. Citron Collins
Saturday, March 14, 2009
In Case You Missed Any Of It
I have compiled the clips that lead up the Jon Stewart vs. Jim Cramer extravaganza this past week. I used the unedited version for the final interview, so there is foul language and segments that were not aired on TV.
Hope you have a wonderful weekend. Enjoy.
Hope you have a wonderful weekend. Enjoy.
Friday, March 13, 2009
My Mom Has A Reputation In The Cast Room
For some reason, my Mom liked to marry US Marines. My Father (biological), her first husband, was an USMC helicopter pilot. There was never a woman who was less appropriate for the role as an USMC Officer's Wife. My mom was constantly getting my Father in trouble when they were married. She didn't like to follow the rules and he paid the price. If you met my father, you would wonder how the two of them ever thought it was a good idea to get married.
My Dad (Step-father), her second husband, was...you guessed it, an USMC helicopter pilot! Luckily, when they married, he went from active duty to the USMC reserves. There was no more living on base, no more day to day duties of the Marine Corps wife, all my mom had to do was behave herself once a year at the Marine Corps ball. Every year, around the "Birthday" of the USMC (November 10th), US Marines around the world hold a formal "Birthday Ball". If you have never heard of the Marine Corps Ball, think of it as the Senior Prom for Marines, except you have to behave like an adult. The behaving part was never my mother's strong suit.
When I was a kid, every year the Jaycee's in town would have a big fundraiser. One year, they chose to hold their event in October and have an Oktoberfest theme. My mom, being the good German girl that she was, looked forward to going. She got her two German immigrant friends, Ingrid and Trixie, to buy tickets as well. The night of the party came and I remember my mom getting ready. She was very excited, especially since she just got new shoes and planned to wear them that evening. It was the 70's, so of course the shoes were platforms. I remember waving good-bye as my mom and dad, along with their friends, drove off that night. The next morning, I went into my mom's bedroom to see how the night went. She didn't look good. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin had a greenish pallor and she had a bunch of scratches on her arms. I asked her what happened.
My mom and her German friends got really drunk. They had a great time. The whole place was decorated like a German beer garden during the fall. The centerpieces for the tables were pumpkins and other gourds. My mom and her friends decided to take the pumpkins home with them when they left. As they were walking down the hill to their car, someone dropped a pumpkin. My mom saw the pumpkin roll by and yelled; "It's the Great Pumpkin, we have to save the Great Pumpkin!' She then started to run down the hill after said pumpkin. On her way, one of her platform shoes landed in a pothole, she fell off her shoes and BROKE BOTH HER FEET. She had a plaster cast up to the knee on one leg and a removable brace on the other foot. This would suck under any circumstances, but it was especially bad because the Marine Corps Ball was in 3 weeks.
My mom had a long steel blue dress especially made for the ball. It had shiny gold buttons on the bodice. To match the buttons, she bought a gold purse and gold sandals. There was no way she was going to be able to wear the sandals. So what did my mom do? She spray-painted the "shoe" that went over the plaster cast and the brace that went on the other foot, Gold. If her feet poked out from under the dress, she would still match.
The night of ball came and off they went; my dad in his dress blues and my mom, in her steel blue gown, gold purse and gold "shoes". Once again, my mom imbibed a little too much. My dad found her; drunk, with a bunch of wives in the corner of the ballroom, dress up around her waist showing off her gold "shoes". The Colonel's wife, who was from Alabama, was hollering; " Does anybody here have a writin' stick?" Another drunken southern belle hollered back; " I don't have a writin' stick, but I gots me a lipstick!" The Colonel's wife decided that was good enough and the whole group proceeded to sign my mom's plaster cast with hot pink lipstick. After they were done signing her cast, my dad poured my mom into the car and took her home. Despite being drunk off her ass, my mom was cognizant enough to know that lipstick smears. So, she wrapped her cast in saran wrap before she went to bed.
The next morning, my mom's cast was a hot pink soggy mess. After a Bloody Mary and a few aspirin, off we went to Kaiser to get my mom a new cast. Since my mom was really good at drinking, but not so well at walking, this was not our first trip to the cast room. The cast tech, named Thermador, was very familiar with my mom. The look on his face when he saw my mom's soggy lipstick covered cast and her gold spray-painted shoes, was priceless. Thermador still works at Kaiser. Every time he sees my mom in the halls, his eyes light up, a big smile stretches across his face, he winks at her and says; "Now you be careful, Miz Joanie", I hear him chuckle as he walks away.
My Dad (Step-father), her second husband, was...you guessed it, an USMC helicopter pilot! Luckily, when they married, he went from active duty to the USMC reserves. There was no more living on base, no more day to day duties of the Marine Corps wife, all my mom had to do was behave herself once a year at the Marine Corps ball. Every year, around the "Birthday" of the USMC (November 10th), US Marines around the world hold a formal "Birthday Ball". If you have never heard of the Marine Corps Ball, think of it as the Senior Prom for Marines, except you have to behave like an adult. The behaving part was never my mother's strong suit.
When I was a kid, every year the Jaycee's in town would have a big fundraiser. One year, they chose to hold their event in October and have an Oktoberfest theme. My mom, being the good German girl that she was, looked forward to going. She got her two German immigrant friends, Ingrid and Trixie, to buy tickets as well. The night of the party came and I remember my mom getting ready. She was very excited, especially since she just got new shoes and planned to wear them that evening. It was the 70's, so of course the shoes were platforms. I remember waving good-bye as my mom and dad, along with their friends, drove off that night. The next morning, I went into my mom's bedroom to see how the night went. She didn't look good. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin had a greenish pallor and she had a bunch of scratches on her arms. I asked her what happened.
My mom and her German friends got really drunk. They had a great time. The whole place was decorated like a German beer garden during the fall. The centerpieces for the tables were pumpkins and other gourds. My mom and her friends decided to take the pumpkins home with them when they left. As they were walking down the hill to their car, someone dropped a pumpkin. My mom saw the pumpkin roll by and yelled; "It's the Great Pumpkin, we have to save the Great Pumpkin!' She then started to run down the hill after said pumpkin. On her way, one of her platform shoes landed in a pothole, she fell off her shoes and BROKE BOTH HER FEET. She had a plaster cast up to the knee on one leg and a removable brace on the other foot. This would suck under any circumstances, but it was especially bad because the Marine Corps Ball was in 3 weeks.
My mom had a long steel blue dress especially made for the ball. It had shiny gold buttons on the bodice. To match the buttons, she bought a gold purse and gold sandals. There was no way she was going to be able to wear the sandals. So what did my mom do? She spray-painted the "shoe" that went over the plaster cast and the brace that went on the other foot, Gold. If her feet poked out from under the dress, she would still match.
The night of ball came and off they went; my dad in his dress blues and my mom, in her steel blue gown, gold purse and gold "shoes". Once again, my mom imbibed a little too much. My dad found her; drunk, with a bunch of wives in the corner of the ballroom, dress up around her waist showing off her gold "shoes". The Colonel's wife, who was from Alabama, was hollering; " Does anybody here have a writin' stick?" Another drunken southern belle hollered back; " I don't have a writin' stick, but I gots me a lipstick!" The Colonel's wife decided that was good enough and the whole group proceeded to sign my mom's plaster cast with hot pink lipstick. After they were done signing her cast, my dad poured my mom into the car and took her home. Despite being drunk off her ass, my mom was cognizant enough to know that lipstick smears. So, she wrapped her cast in saran wrap before she went to bed.
The next morning, my mom's cast was a hot pink soggy mess. After a Bloody Mary and a few aspirin, off we went to Kaiser to get my mom a new cast. Since my mom was really good at drinking, but not so well at walking, this was not our first trip to the cast room. The cast tech, named Thermador, was very familiar with my mom. The look on his face when he saw my mom's soggy lipstick covered cast and her gold spray-painted shoes, was priceless. Thermador still works at Kaiser. Every time he sees my mom in the halls, his eyes light up, a big smile stretches across his face, he winks at her and says; "Now you be careful, Miz Joanie", I hear him chuckle as he walks away.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
I'm Scared
I am going to the doctor later today to get "Trigger Point" injections of corticosteroids into my left upper trapezius muscle. I think it's gonna hurt. I am a big baby.
Plus, I am not even convinced it is going to work. My neck still hurts and both of my hands keep going numb. I am not sure how a shot in my muscle will help alleviate these symptoms. Maybe I will have a better attitude after I get some sleep.
Plus, I am not even convinced it is going to work. My neck still hurts and both of my hands keep going numb. I am not sure how a shot in my muscle will help alleviate these symptoms. Maybe I will have a better attitude after I get some sleep.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
She Put In Her Five Years, Then I Was On My Own.
My mom read to me EVERY day for the first 3 years of my life. After that, I had memorized most of the words and would "read" to her for the next two years. By the time I started elementary school, I was a pretty advanced reader and I loved doing it. I would bankrupt my mother with the monthly Scholastic Book orders. She eventually restricted my book orders at school, but would take me to yard sales and book sales once a month and let me pick out as many books as I wanted for $15.00. She never monitored what I was reading, she was just glad that I enjoyed it.
In 5th grade, we had a special time in class called SSR (sustained silent reading). We could read anything we wanted. I brought my books from home. I was reading my latest garage sale book and came upon a word I did not know. I went up to my teacher and asked to use the dictionary. He asked why and I said I didn't know what a word meant in my book and I wanted to look it up. He asked my what the word was.
I replied "Phallus".
All the color drained from his face and he calmly asked, "What are you reading?"
I replied, "The Exorcist".
He said, "Does your Mom know you are reading that?"
I replied, "Yes, she bought this book for me on Saturday."
He gave me the dictionary. Later he gave my Mom a phone call.
In 5th grade, we had a special time in class called SSR (sustained silent reading). We could read anything we wanted. I brought my books from home. I was reading my latest garage sale book and came upon a word I did not know. I went up to my teacher and asked to use the dictionary. He asked why and I said I didn't know what a word meant in my book and I wanted to look it up. He asked my what the word was.
I replied "Phallus".
All the color drained from his face and he calmly asked, "What are you reading?"
I replied, "The Exorcist".
He said, "Does your Mom know you are reading that?"
I replied, "Yes, she bought this book for me on Saturday."
He gave me the dictionary. Later he gave my Mom a phone call.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
It's That Time Of The Year Again.
I can't help it. I love Dancing With The Stars. I waited patiently all these months for Season 8 to start and last night did not disappoint. Each season, I have two groups of favorites; stars I want to win because I like who they are and stars I want to win because of how they dance.
My "WHO" favorites are Steve-O, Steve Wozniak and David Allen Grier.
My "HOW" favorites are Gilles Marini, Shawn Johnson and David Allen Grier.
Steve Wozniak, or The Woz as he is known to all of us Mac lovin' nerds, has a big following in Nerdland. I imagine that they are all working up hacks to dial, text and hack The Woz all the way to the finals. I hope all of the other stars can rally up enough support to make it a close contest. While Woz did dance much better than I expected and I do want him to stay around for a while, I can't imagine him going home with the much coveted glitter ball trophy for his dancing skills.
My "WHO" favorites are Steve-O, Steve Wozniak and David Allen Grier.
My "HOW" favorites are Gilles Marini, Shawn Johnson and David Allen Grier.
Steve Wozniak, or The Woz as he is known to all of us Mac lovin' nerds, has a big following in Nerdland. I imagine that they are all working up hacks to dial, text and hack The Woz all the way to the finals. I hope all of the other stars can rally up enough support to make it a close contest. While Woz did dance much better than I expected and I do want him to stay around for a while, I can't imagine him going home with the much coveted glitter ball trophy for his dancing skills.
Monday, March 09, 2009
When Misha Became A Potty-Mouth
It was Christmas Eve, 1974 and I was one month away from my 6th birthday. My Mom, Step-Dad and I were making sugar cookies to leave out for Santa. We were getting near the end of the batch and the dough was starting to stick to the cookie cutters. I was getting very annoyed. I was shaking and shaking the cookie cutter, but the cookie wouldn't fall out.
That is when I said "Fucking cookie!"
My dad said "What?"
I said, "Fucking cookie won't come out of the cookie cutter"
My mom said "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
At this point, my dad is turning bright red; shaking and starting to sweat, he was doing everything in his power not to laugh.
I said "Fucking cookie."
She interrupted me and said "Michele Marie! Where did you hear that?"
I replied "Anatoly."
She mutters "Oh that little commie bastard!"
Now, here is the back-story:
I was going to Kindergarten at a very "hoity toity" private school. My mom and Step Dad were paying big bucks for me to get my basic kindergarten education along with the "hoity toity" additions of: Art class, Ballet class, Swimming class, Acting class, Foreign Languages, Etiquette classes, Cooking classes...the whole "hoity toity" package.
I wore a plaid skirt, blue blazer and saddle shoes to class every day. My family wasn't rich, my mom worked extra to pay for my tuition. But the children I went to school with...Well, their folks were rolling in the bucks. Anatoly, the aforementioned "little commie bastard", was the son of the Soviet Consulate General, or something important like that. My mom and Step Dad, being ULTRA conservative, were not pleased that he was my classmate. This was just the ammunition my mom needed to try and get this kid out of the school.
She stewed all Christmas, she started to boil around New Year's, by the time school started again...She was white hot. We arrived at school early; my mom met the Headmaster at the door. She started off well, talking calmly, telling him how our Christmas was scarred by the education I received by Anatoly. Apparently, she did not get the response she liked from the Headmaster. Because what I heard from behind that closed door was my mom, screaming;
"I BUST MY ASS TO PAY FOR THIS PRESTIGIOUS SCHOOL. I WANT MY DAUGHTER TO COME OUT OF THIS PLACE EDUCATED. I DIDN'T SEND HER HERE TO LEARN GUTTER LANGUAGE FROM SOME LITTLE COMMIE BASTARD. YOU BETTER FIND A WAY TO FIX THIS. I WANT THAT LITTLE COMMIE BASTARD...GONE!"
The meeting didn't go the way my mom planned. I finished the year at the school and the next year I was put in Parochial School. It was there, in first grade, where I learned what a "BONER" was.
My mom just couldn't win.
That is when I said "Fucking cookie!"
My dad said "What?"
I said, "Fucking cookie won't come out of the cookie cutter"
My mom said "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
At this point, my dad is turning bright red; shaking and starting to sweat, he was doing everything in his power not to laugh.
I said "Fucking cookie."
She interrupted me and said "Michele Marie! Where did you hear that?"
I replied "Anatoly."
She mutters "Oh that little commie bastard!"
Now, here is the back-story:
I was going to Kindergarten at a very "hoity toity" private school. My mom and Step Dad were paying big bucks for me to get my basic kindergarten education along with the "hoity toity" additions of: Art class, Ballet class, Swimming class, Acting class, Foreign Languages, Etiquette classes, Cooking classes...the whole "hoity toity" package.
I wore a plaid skirt, blue blazer and saddle shoes to class every day. My family wasn't rich, my mom worked extra to pay for my tuition. But the children I went to school with...Well, their folks were rolling in the bucks. Anatoly, the aforementioned "little commie bastard", was the son of the Soviet Consulate General, or something important like that. My mom and Step Dad, being ULTRA conservative, were not pleased that he was my classmate. This was just the ammunition my mom needed to try and get this kid out of the school.
She stewed all Christmas, she started to boil around New Year's, by the time school started again...She was white hot. We arrived at school early; my mom met the Headmaster at the door. She started off well, talking calmly, telling him how our Christmas was scarred by the education I received by Anatoly. Apparently, she did not get the response she liked from the Headmaster. Because what I heard from behind that closed door was my mom, screaming;
"I BUST MY ASS TO PAY FOR THIS PRESTIGIOUS SCHOOL. I WANT MY DAUGHTER TO COME OUT OF THIS PLACE EDUCATED. I DIDN'T SEND HER HERE TO LEARN GUTTER LANGUAGE FROM SOME LITTLE COMMIE BASTARD. YOU BETTER FIND A WAY TO FIX THIS. I WANT THAT LITTLE COMMIE BASTARD...GONE!"
The meeting didn't go the way my mom planned. I finished the year at the school and the next year I was put in Parochial School. It was there, in first grade, where I learned what a "BONER" was.
My mom just couldn't win.
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