When I was in middle school I had a dream that I almost had sex with my mom. She seduced ME, okay?? God, get off my back.
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When I was a child, I used to like to eat matches. I don’t anymore, but sometimes I wish I still did.
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when i was about nine years old i started having ocpd tendencies about things i ate. no one could bite into something i was gonna eat. if my food had colors i had to have one of every color. if it spelled something i had to eat the whole thing else i felt incomplete.
such was the case with toblerone. as you know toblerones spell out the brand over as many pieces of chocolate plus an end piece.
my cousin decided to help herself while i was eating my toblerone (“didn’t anyone ever tell you to share?” she said) and a fire rose up from within me that as she was eating MY CHOCOLATE i started to rip the hair out of her head.
she started screaming and screaming until my uncle rushed up and got us away from one another. i explained what happened, fuming, and feeling horribly incomplete.
my uncle berated my cousin for not asking and after that she was a little afraid of me.
about fifteen years later i saw her again and she tried to pull the same shit with my m&m’s. i pulled her hair as a precautionary measure.
LEARN YOUR LESSON BITCH OR I WILL TEACH IT.
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My family was so cheap that for the majority of my early teenage life, my parents would lie and say that I was 12 years old so they could pay kids prices at restaurants, carnivals, movie theatres etc. When I was 16, we were challenged for the first time at the movies and asked to prove that I was a kid with some sort of identification like a health card. My mom said “listen, she may physically be 16 but she has a mental disability so she is 6 years old in her mind, have a little fucking respect and decency”. I guess the ticket lady was so embarrassed that she apologized profusely and for the rest of the summer I got into that theatre for kids prices, no questions asked.
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In 7th grade I used to steal cigarettes out of my mom’s purse and sell them to 8th graders for $5 each. $5 a cigarette! I must have made $200 that year. I spent it all on candy at the corner store, though. Moral of the story: kids are dumb.
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I grew up in an affluent town close to Washington, D.C. Everybody’s parents had money, were powerful, or were both. I shit you not, a lot of my classmates had godparents that were senators and CEOs and they would brag about it constantly. My family was not rich or powerful, but my parents insisted on living in that town because of the excellent school district that it was in. As a result, I was the poor kid and couldn’t compete with my classmates. I didn’t want to feel left out when they were all bragging, so in the second grade I told them that my dad was best friends with Andrew Lloyd Webber and that one of the characters in CATS was based on me. They got really excited about it and asked me which one, and since I had never seen the play and couldn’t name any of the characters, I told them that if they couldn’t figure it out, they clearly weren’t true fans and walked away. Why I picked Andrew Lloyd Webber to be my dad’s fake best friend is beyond me.
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As a kid I was such a hypochondriac. There was a boy in my class who had appendicitis and I was so afraid I would catch it from him that for about a month I slept every night on my mom’s couch by the door, fully clothed & wearing my glasses, in case I had to go to the hospital.
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when i was in grade school i used to sing in the choir (keep in mind it was an all boys jesuit school) and i ended up being lead boy soprano.
one day during practice i was so tired after class i decided i would just take it easy and half-ass singing solos and stuff. our choir director was getting a little pissed off that i wasn’t “giving it everything i had” and something about me disappointing jesus, so she had me sing even louder and had me stand up the whole time.
“but i’m so tired,” i said, “i don’t think i can do this.” so i sat back down. of course she only got more incensed by my behavior so she threatened to give all the solos for sunday mass to the other boy sopranos.
immediately feeling vulnerable i threatened back. “do you really want those boys singing for sunday mass? philip can’t even hit high c let alone stay on pitch!” I WAS EIGHT WHEN I WAS SAYING THESE THINGS.
our choir director also sensed my urgency and realized her wanton disregard of not giving anyone else solos except for the leads, so she backed off. “you can keep the solos, just practice with me later.”
i was a diva at eight and got my way. or i figured out early how to manipulate people. it was awesome.
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(by migueld)
When I was a kid I would sometimes become paralyzed with anxiety at the thought that there was no more music to be made, that we’d exhausted every possibility. And that all the new songs would have to go over the old ones and you’d have to remember all the possible songs that went onto one track. Hearing new songs made me both happy and sad.
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My mom wouldn’t let me use tampons, she thought they could get stuck or get inside me but w/e. I still got some so when I was in my room inserting one I had my leg up on the bed when my little cousin walked in and screamed. She ran downstairs and yelled that i was sticking something in my peepee.
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