As slightly awkward pre-teens (I put the "slightly" in there for her, I was just straight up embarrassing to be around) we were obsessed with sex (we were obsessed with sex as 4th graders, high schoolers, high school graduates, college sophomores and umm...always, too). But before you knew what it was like (I mean, at ALL. Before any of your friends were having sex) it was really exciting to talk about it. And think about it. And draw it. Yes. Draw it. Roommate and I would sit in my basement drawing pornographic situations on my dad's office stationary. We called ourselves "XR PORNO PICS, as in X-Rated. As in, children, please. But the pictures were pretty graphic, which leads me to believe we were older than I originally remembered us as being. We must have been at least thirteen, because I did not know what certain things were until middle school. Example: In fifth grade, Scott [insert obviously Jewish last name here] thought it was soo funny that when he asked me to pick a number between 1-100 (I don't remember why, what do you think I am, magical? This was 13 years ago!) I picked 69. He laughed and laughed and laughed and I stood there picking my nose and twirling my "curls" (read: frizzy, triangular head of hair). So yeah, roommate and I thought XR Porno Pics was just about the funniest thing ever, which is ironic, because it kind of is...now. In retrospect. We buried a time capsule around this time and I'm pretty sure it has some XR Porno Pics drawings in it, along with RMAB (our singing group from the mid-90s, comprised of our initials) tapes and song lyrics, and photos of posed Barbies doing it. Seriously, we have Barbie porn. We tried to dig up said capsule after high school graduation (like RIGHT after, actually. We graduated, went to my house, picked up shovels and ruined my parents' backyard.) We couldn't find it, at all. The map we made as children was off of a tree that had apparently moved, or our "3 steps to the left of the tree" directions were slightly off. Either way, underneath the stone patio that my parents have since put in lies a treasure of perverted girl shit that we have to dig up before my parents move (which they shouldn't be doing anytime soon).
Before I wrap up this edition of "why I was a sick fuck as a child and/or why roommate and I have to be friends forever because if we're not we have waaaaay too much blackmail", I just want to add a little post script. My senior yearbook from high school is a memory that I will treasure forever, but unfortunately, it is something that I can never show my future children. Why, you ask? Because after everyone had signed, and graduation day was looming, I let roommate have the book for one last little note. The only space left was on the "teachers page", and it was but a small corner next to a touching message from my choral director and words of encouragement from my English teacher. And guess what she did? She drew a masterpiece...the most detailed, specific, and realistic looking depiction of a blowjob that I've ever seen. Kudos, bitch.
In other embarrassing, "indecent proposal" news, today my ex-boyfriend from high school asked me if I knew any good, inexpensive photographers for headshots. Now, mind you, he and I have been friends for a long time, and I think of him more as a friend than an ex at this point, but as far as things go, he is my ex-boyfriend. So to answer that question, yes, I do know a good, cheap photographer...my current boyfriend. I didn't expect it to be weird, until I thought about the two of them spending three hours together taking pictures. Hmm...now you two boys have fun!
PS: A BIG happy birthday over to Ali at The Way I See It! Too much time has gone by since I've seen her smiling face...and a gorgeous, smiling face it is!