Tales Of A Third Grade Emo
When I was in the third grade, I got my first hate mail:
Dear Becky,
I like you a little bit, but it grows smaller every day.
Love,
Becky
First, yes, her name was Becky also, and Part B, she signed it “Love, Becky” so I knew she wasn’t entirely serious. Third graders are notoriously fickle and she was probably pissed that my bejeweledness was awesomer than hers. Because it was.
Also, I had an older brother who could REALLY insult me and frankly, hers couldn’t hold a candle to what Uncle Aunt Becky could say.
But it DID hurt because those things DO matter when you’re eight and I vividly remember trying to tell my mom about “THIS ONE TIME THAT…”
She totally didn’t get it. My mother was never terribly hip about that sort of thing because she was too busy listening to folk music and churning butter and canning *shudder* tomatoes to care about what her “Ice-Ice-Baby,” bejeweled daughter could be upset about. I think that stuff just eluded her.
She just couldn’t possibly understand how it might matter that I have the right jacket and the right song to slow dance to at the skate rink and the perfect bangs that DID NOT start at approximately the back of my neck, like she always cut them.
Butter took precedence. Which, whatever. I MIGHT have a bang phobia now.
So my kid just graduated the third grade and yesterday he went over to a friend’s house on a playdate (okay, when we were kids, my mom just kicked us out and locked the door when the sun came up. There were no “playdates,” right?).
After he got home, he confessed that he didn’t have very much fun because they’d been fighting, and inwardly I groaned, because instantly I flashed back to all of the fights I’d had with my friends at that age over, well, anything. It seemed I was always stomping away from something or another or baffled because my friends were doing the same.
He explained what had happened, and it involved telling a secret that he hadn’t been informed WAS a secret, something I informed him wasn’t a particularly heinous crime, and he informed me that this was pretty much standard behavior for this friend.
Luckily, he wasn’t overly upset by this and isn’t planning on going back. This is the part of raising an autistic kid that’s fairly awesome. The hurt feelings aren’t quite of the same caliber as they are with someone like, oh, I don’t know, YOUR AUNT BECKY.
I submit this photo as proof:
This is Your Aunt Becky, circa 1989 (ish). Clearly, I am upset by something (and it’s not my uncle, who, despite the fact that he looks like he wants to throttle me or perhaps stone me to death or sell me for parts, is actually one of my favorite people).
What could that possibly be, you ask innocently, my Pranksters?
I have enhanced the photo for your digital pleasure so that you may see PRECISELY why I have such a look upon my face.
A-HA!
It’s because I hate Jethro TULL! CLEARLY at age 9, I already knew that while I enjoy most classic rock, Jethro Tull is one of the few exceptions! Aqua-Lung, one of the WORST songs out there!
Clever, CLEVER girl!
But did I have to look so fucking EMO about it?
The answer is OBVIOUSLY. Because at age 9, everything is very, very serious, I am learning, and nothing is not worth a good door-slamming.
On the upside, I have years of emo jokes ahead of me. On the downside, I have years of emo jokes ahead of me.
—————
So gather up around me, Pranksters, and grab a tall drink because I sure as shit need one and it’s only 9 AM. What were YOU like at this age?
—————
I am at Toy With Me talking about my, well, my sex-after-three-kids-life. And I need help. No, seriously, I’m asking for help.
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If you’d like, you can vote for me for Funniest Blog once per day until like July 11 (it’s only an email address thingy, not like a big ass give-them-your-first-born-child-thing) and I would hump your leg. HARD. Consider it an early birthday present!
HA! Love those pictures!
My musical tastes haven’t changed much, I see. I’m pretty proud of that.
In grade 4, Jeff Shewchuck called me a walrus. 20 years later, I still remember that. (I was a skinny little sensitive thing. *deeep sigh*)
Also: I voted for you again today.
And: Aqua-Lung makes me want to stab myself in the ear with forks.
That’s because that song is creepy and stupid and should be banned.
Aqua lung has a certain appeal to me, but maybe that is a matter of vintage – I’m probably closer to your uncle’s age.
But at the risk of really sounding bad – the butter probably took precedence, not prescience. I’m thinking prescient butter would be a little scarey.
Oh, that’s the stupid auto-correct messing with me. I’ll fix it. COMPUTERS! They think they know EVERYTHING! They’re WRONG!
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your uncle looks like the inspiration for the character kip in napoleon dynamite – love it!
He DOES, now that you mention it! Bwahaha!
It’s a wonder any of us survive childhood. I think in the third grade I was still in Catholic school being tortured by nuns.
My third grade teacher wasn’t a nun, but she was a huge bitch. I’ll never forget what an asshole she was.
I was friends with the girl up the street from us, and she had 4 sisters. Anytime we would get in the smallest fight, she would go tell one me to her family. I knew to go outside and clean up all my crap, and get inside fast. Sure enough, every time her mom and four sisters would come marching down to my house and ring the doorbell repeatedly. I would hide in my room and peek out the window. I didn’t know what they would do, but I never wanted to find out. My dad was on to them, so he would never answer the door, which pissed them off even more.
Don’t ask me why I stayed friends with her, but I did.
We’re all such gluttons for punishment at that age! My best friend was my next door neighbor and she used to dangle her Nintendo over me like a carrot. Like, “Oh, I don’t feel like plaaaying it right now,” and when I’d be all, “Okay, I’m going home,” she’d be all, “Okay, I want to play it now.” Then when I’d be all, “Okay, I’ll stay,” she’d change her mind again.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
Oh this post made me laugh! I must dig out the picture of myself at around the same age with the EXACT same expression! It wasn’t Aqualung though, I think it had something to do with burgundy CORDUROY knickers (yes, picture that!). I’m still scarred by that outfit… 🙂
I’m scarred FOR you. I had similar outfits, but I think they all involved matching Garanimals. Heh. My mom certainly didn’t think that dressing me like anything other than an overgrown toddler was important.
Eh, Jethro Tull is OK. Doesn’t evoke any kind of strong emotion for me…
I carry a few things around from grade school. First, I had HORRIBLE buck teeth, and some of the rotten kids called me BEVO (a play on DEVO – you know, “We are not men, we are DEVO” and Whip It). But, I also had many boyfriends then. 🙂
Second, one of my sisters is just a year older than me, so our groups of friends would sometimes meet up. My sister is not particularly likable, but we got along (more or less) until I was about 10 or 11. We were at the park (separately, with out groups), and one of her “friends” said something to me. As I am a smartass first and foremost, I decimated her with a clever riposte. (I may have even said that, since I’ve always had a good vocabulary, and she wasn’t particularly smart) I think her comment was some vague insult to my sister too. The girl then turned to my sister and said “If she were my sister, I’d lock her in a closet.” (Oh, the creativity!) My sister then agreed with her. That was the point at which I learned that no one can be trusted – when you’re defending someone and they backstab you (is it backstabbing if they do it in front of you?) it’s fairly devastating. Anyway, this was followed by many years of guerilla warfare in our house, culminating in her coming after me with a baseball bat when I was 24 and she was 25. We can get along now, since she lives in Florida, and I don’t see her more than once a year.
Oh, finding out that people backstab SUCKS. That’s one of those things you NEVER get over. EVER.
Your crazy site appears to have posted my last comment twice. Obviously, it was a very good comment and bears repeating!
As far as the sex life goes, I think all you can do is find a decent babysitter and a 4 hour motel! Or opt to take showers together and get down there. Set your alarm for the middle of the night? Send the kids to grandma’s once every other week for a sleepover? (With 2 grandmas, that’s every weekend!). Or how about Uncle Aunt Becky? He needs some time with his niece and nephews! Quickies in the closet? Locked doors and earplugs so you don’t hear the crying?
Sorry I can’t comment on the other site…my work insists on monitoring our porn sites. Party-poopers. 🙁
Those are awesome suggestions and my blog didn’t actually post the comment twice. It was an ILLUSION!
At 9 – I gave my mother a homemade birthday card telling her what a wonderful dancer she would be if she would only lose weight. I am proof positive of the whole nature vs nurture theory. I was born this way, I swear.
Bwahahaha! Oh, it’s amazing your mother didn’t feed you to the wolves.
Although last summer my son (this was when I was trying desperately to lose weight but couldn’t thanks to my GLANDULAR condition), God LOVE him, told me I looked like “I had a baby in my stomach.”
Ooof.
Hi Aunt Becky!
I could tell lots of stories, because first I was the only kid with glasses – then in fifth grade I was the only girl with her period (and glasses). Trauma.
However, I wanted to say I didn’t know you had an autistic son. I have an Aspie, and you’re right that things affect the mother more than the child.
P.S. Aqualung sucks.
I asked him about it today, just to see if he was upset (he has swimming lessons with the girl) and he was all, “eh.”
So I’m all, “eh” too. Because really, her loss.
DON”T feel like a fuckwad. You know what I’m talking about. Shine on that link with pride and make it all caps that you can vote for Becky, not just once, but ONCE A DAY.
I hate Jethro Tull. Their music, their lyrics, that voice. Just awful. I’m also wondering if your look has something to do with your Edwardian lacy collar. I mean, I think it’s super cute, but in third grade I’d surmise you probably had a tantrum because you wanted to wear your Hello Kitty shirt.
In 3rd grade, I went to a small private school filled to the brim with rich kids. I was not rich and I was, as Kelly Bensimon likes to say, systematically bullied. But I’m not here for the pity party, I’m here for the fun. Sorry about your Becky friend. She sounded like a real bitch.
My grandmother bought me dresses from Lord and Taylor from the second I was born until she died. I ALWAYS looked like that. Fluffy and frilly. ALWAYS.
And thank you. You’re sweet to make me feel better about asking for votes. I feel like a schmuck.
I was awfully awkward. I was squeezing into a Juniors size 13 (I’m not kidding) and trying, desperately, to get my bangs to puff up. I have two very distinct memories from 4th grade: one where I leaned over to get something at the same time my desk-neighbor did and our butts touched and he yelled at me to never do that again because I was disgusting. The other was while wearing a ridiculous mustard yellow shirt with Columbus’ route splashed all over it … and having the teacher figure out to do so I wouldn’t cheat on our history test that day.
Oh the pain.
I remember desperately petitioning my mother to allow me to perm my bangs. Not the rest of my hair, mind you, just my bangs. She refused. Probably a wise move on her part, but I thought I would look fabulous.
I also remember telling my teacher her earrings “clashed” with her shirt. I thought “clashed” meant that they looked “awesome.” OH, but I learned later it did not.
what was *I* like? oh geez, that could take all day. it’s complicated, because I didn’t have a normal childhood, because by 9 I had already created a public persona and I kept the real Andy locked down pretty tightly. Public Andy was a bubbly gangly little thing who wanted to be a cheerleader or a prima ballerina when she grew up and had tons of friends and whose days were filled with voice lessons and dance classes and violin lessons and girl scouts and swim practice etc etc etc. Real Andy just wanted to be alone in her room curled up with a book.
Yeah, you and me both, girl.
i was sensitive & easily offended too…maybe all girls are? my 6 & 7 year old daughters are becoming the same way…& i want to kill them! Jaden (almost 10) on the other hand, is a lot like Ben…u don’t like me or what i have to say? eh, ok…now where did my Bionicles go?! i wish i could be more like him (& his Aspie ways) & not give a rats ass what others think!
Alex, I fear, will be my sensitive soul. It’ll serve him well in his later years, but as a child, this is going to be terribly hard for him.
Oh, NINE. Nine was a rough age, if I remember correctly. My cunt of a third grade teacher marked me off on everything for penmanship, even in subjects like math–to be clear, I could have ALL THE ANSWERS CORRECT, but if my christing PENmanship (which is the stupidest word ever, by the way, like there is something swashbuckling or gentlemanly about how one forms one’s Ls) was imperfect she would mark them wrong. Her name was Mrs. Durham, and yes, I might still be holding a teensy grudge about this.
I went to vote for you and saw that I am nominated too, which gives me a little frisson of excitement, but I never win these things so I suppose you can have my vote. (FOR TODAY.)
I was totally the same way. I can remember all these little slights. This kid picked on me, this one was mean to my friend, this one called me a liar. My daughter, who has Aspergers, not so much. It rolls off her. On one hand, I think she’s lucky that way. On the other hand, it makes me want to run around and thwart any meanness that may occur just in case this is the one that will actually get through and hurt her. It’s an exhausting life. LOL
“Your comment is being moderated by Your Aunt Becky because the blog thinks yer a robot. Are you?”
NO. And I resent the implication. Anyway, if I were a robot I would have had EXCELLENT penmanship.
the damn song lasts FOREVER! kinda like the “leaving the cake in the rain” song. I never understood it and couldn’t figure out why the person didn’t have the damn recipe to make it aggaaaiinnn…..
Bwahaha! That song should be destroyed. WHY do people like it?
Age 9? Oh that was the year that Christy had the sleepover that she only invited the ‘cool’ girls to. 4th grade. Cool girls. There were only 9 girls in the whole class and apparently 6 of them were cool and the other 3 of us were the losers.
4th grade, the year I was defined irrevocably as a loser. And I remained so until I went to college and discovered the power of sex, drugs and alcohol. (I was in Catholic school from grade 1-12. I knew about the power of sex drugs & alcohol in high school but the guilt was just too much for me until I left town)
Oh, now, I remember the caste system, too. Girls, man, they can be assholes.
I am almost positive that is the SAME look the teenager gives me and his dad when we ask him to do, well, pretty much anything that does not include an xbox controller…classic!!
and yes we should all circle our wagons and wait out the emo storm with strong drinks because i dont think it goes away that quickly…
If he’s 8 and won’t leave for college until he’s 18, I think I have at least 2048 years between now and then (math wasn’t my strong suit). I may need to develop a Valium habit. Or get deaf.
I have extremely vivid memories. 5th Grade was the worst. I was friends with two other girls, both named Nicole. One day we were fine. The next one was mad at the other, then the next it reversed. As a middle child and a forever smoother-over (is that word?) I just didn’t get it.
I was constantly forced to pick one or the other, and wouldn’t. So, then they would be mad at me. Needless to say, after many a ‘fight’ (if you can call girls yelling and crying on the playground that) I would call my mom to pick me up at school, because I was (cough, cough) sick.
She was working over an hour away at the time, and didn’t have much vacation…I should thank her…
However, the biggest blow out occurred when one of the Nicole’s got mad at me, because she broke up with her boyfriend and I didn’t break up with mine. Oh, the drama! and HORROR! haha…
I remember in 5th grade being FURIOUS because Beth was all, “YOU DON’T NEED TO WEAR A BRA! HAHAHA!” and apparently that was supposed to be a slight against me. Why? I DON’T KNOW.
I was a sensitive little pansy at that age. My parents didn’t help by encouraging me to pursue my interest in sewing outfits for my G.I. Joes and wearing the loud, vibrant prints favored by androgynous rock stars of the day (1976 or so). They also didn’t force me to play any team sports (I would hide in the woods when the bus came to take us to away games after I got recruited to play Little League baseball).
I became pretty masterful at making smart-ass replies to bullies, but I also took a few beatings because I would just freeze up in a fight. But the upside was that the ladies at that age *loved* the sensitive guy. I was a total player until about the eighth grade, when the girls started liking jerks, and, more importantly, I was no longer the only boy interested in kissing girls. That’s when I started becoming a jerk.
I would have been weird enough in a civilian setting, but we lived on army bases, where the other families tended to be very…uh…traditional. In the long run, though, it was great growing up in a gender-neutral environment, because I don’t have any nagging sense of insecurity about my current role as stay-at-home dad. Hardly any, anyway.
You can come over and bake cookies with me any time. And by “bake cookies” I mean drink beer and talk about boobs. Because who the fuck needs cookies?
EVERYONE needs cookies, Aunt Becky. EVERYONE. We just don’t need to bake them ourselves.
At the moment, I need to lose some pounds. No cookies for Aunt Becky. Vicodin, however…
Funny how everyone can relate to this post.
I had a neighbor (1 of 5 girls in a family) whom I called “my best friend”, though looking back, I’m not sure why. She tormented me with “my teacher’s (or fill in the blank) worse than your teacher” stuff, I’d bite and say “my teacher is worse cause she does ….”. After 10 minutes of this banter, she’d back off and say “just kidding, I LOVE my teacher”. I always sat there looking like an idiot who hated everyone. So why did I fall for this time and time again?
There were 5 girls in the family and the middle sister was always nice to me, so I followed her everywhere. I wasn’t in love with her or anything but I didn’t trust being alone with the others. So when C would walk out of the room to get something from the kitchen, I’d follow. The others would laugh and laugh! I think C after a while would just walk around to see if I would follow her. Which I did.
I had such bad experiences with people, that I too got lost in books, like someone mentioned above. My parents thought it was so great, because I was so QUIET and out of the way. How NORMAL was it though, to be 8 years old and reading 8+ hours a day? Can you spell ESCAPE? It’s no wonder I like to drink as an adult! 😉
I’m thinking autism could, in a weird way, actually be a blessing. Thanks for your posts!
Third Grade was the year I figured out I could skip recess to stay inside and read, Which I did frequently, unfortunately most of the other kids staying in were the ones who were failing a class, so being the easily accessible nerd they were always saying things that as a third grader made me hate all of them. Then one day I had the genius Idea of listening to my Walkman as I read, probably didn’t stop them from saying things, but it sure as hell stopped me from hearing it.
Now THAT is the best idea ever. It’s like getting weighed in when you’re not on a diet: why bother torturing yourself?
i’m sick and therefore have nothing fun to say. other than that ‘stache makes me think of a predator. sorry ’bout that.
Bwahaha! He’s a car guy. That should explain it all.
everything about this post made me feel warm, cozy, nostalgic.
I think it was your ruffled pirate shirt that did me in.
My shirt was awesome and it was ACTUALLY a dress and you’re just jealous because you WISH you owned it now. So do I, actually, because I’d make Mimi wear it.
I was older when Aqualung came out and I can honestly say that no amount of alcohol or drugs can make Aqualung sound good.
What I really hated then and hate to this day were the Four Seasons. I know the Jersey Boys were based on them and I don’t care. Frankie Valli sounded like someone scratching a chalk board.
When I turned 10, my mother, bless her, decided to have a surprise party for me. She managed to invite 4 girls and my best friend, but did not have any activities planned. Short party. I was quiet and shy and I started to get picked on by some of my classmates.
Years later, I went to Classmates.com and posted some stuff to let them know that I am living in Florida surrounded by palm trees and stuff. Take that, bitches. Living well is the best revenge. Or at least let them think that.
Aw, your birthday makes me sad. My mom was always clueless about that stuff, too. I hope like hell I’m not like that with my kids.
I spent my elementary school years being called “Aimee-boy” (like that even makes sense, but hey, I was a baby dammit) because my mom had boy-short hair so she made the executive decision that I would have boy-short hair, too. So she would never have to help me do my hair. So I wore Levi’s passed down from some distant cousin, peasant blouses, and boy hair.
I really do not miss elementary school at all. I was beyond emo.
My mom liked to buy me Garanimals beyond the stage that it was acceptable. She was an asshole.
My son has just finished 4th grade and the things that bug him amaze me, I can’t seem to remember back that far. Or maybe I’ve just supressed all those memories.
Sometimes, I get the problems he has. Other times, I’m all, uh, what? Kids are so weird.
Hilarious pics. I thought that man was Frances Poncherello until you told me it was your Uncle. LOL.
That’s Uncle Kip, yo.
Okay, you were a darling little girl. Love the ralph-lauren-channeling-littlehouseontheprairie blouse. I totally wore that stuff, too. I do have to admit that In 1989, although I was a lot older that you were (we will not say how much), I could party to some Jethro Tull.
My grandmother liked to dress me like I was a gigantic American Girl Doll. I *always* looked like that.
I’ll go vote for you. Your blog is quite funny! 🙂
And yes, I too was a bit emo as a kid. I even have proof in the dark, horrid little poems I used to write about, well, bleakness.
I WISH like hell I had any of the emo poems I wrote, although, I don’t think I had any. I wasn’t very creative. Still not, really. And thank you for voting for me. xo
I totally LOVE your deep chocolate brown eyes. Can someone have a crush on eyes? Or would I have a crush on you because of your eyes? They still look the same…..nice deep chocolate brown eyes.
In the third grade I was much smaller than the rest of the kids in class and they all treated me like a baby. I still read books with pictures and was scarred for life because the school I attended when I was in the third grade was blown away by a tornado. It was a Friday night and nobody was in the building….had anyone been in the building, there would have been a very small chance of survival.
I’m not afraid of high winds, thunderstorms, and the tornado warnings when they are in my area….and the sound of the storm sirens.
I worry a WHOLE LOT about sending my kids to school because What if there is a tornado that blows their school away while they are in the building?
I’m afraid of fish. Like, deathly afraid of them. But I still go swimming. Although, not in lakes, because shit, those fish are freaky.
My older brother and I were ummm PRANKSTERS. I was 8 and he was 9.
We once made a girl step in dog poo (with bare feet mind you) by convincing her that it was carrots. Why gooey carrots were more appealing than poo I will never know.
We also made a boy eat refried beans that had been the casserole dish at our house for like a month by convincing him it was brownies. THAT one isnt so far fetched, because beans that old DO kind of look like brownies.
Ummmkay, I will leave it at that, mostly were harmless. But still to this day we laugh our asses off at some of the things the other kids fell for, and how we still have friends.
I think I would have gotten along well with you at that age. I mean, now, OBVS, but then, for sure. We would have managed a hell of a lot of mischief.
Ah, Becky. You don’t even want to know what my life was like at nine. Let’s just say that kids in school hating me was not (by far) the worst problem I had. Which is probably why I loved that album.
My problems at home were pretty awful too. School, though, I had that in the bag.
Sitting on a park bench.
Jethro Tull sings about runny snot noses and I visualize someone in the band prancing around like Zamfir with the pan flute. What was with all the flute action in that band? Flutes are not cool in a band. I know. I used to play one in elementary school. Never once did I think, “Yeah, someday I’m gonna be in a rock band and play this bad mutha instrument.”
Dude, WHY NOT? Death Metal FLUTE, bitch!
I once got a note that said “grown down Libby, you’re not as old as you think you are.” I cried for weeks.
And Jethro Tull won the first metal crammy. Yeah, for playing the flute.
I got a note in college from one of my professors that said, “You have potential, but don’t let your attitude get in the way of it.”
Story of my fucking life.
Um your uncle looks creepy, like really scary, but good to hear he’s cool. I have a great story about my 6th grade year, but its 1am in Cairo and sorry but I have to hit it. I’ll tell u later. I loved your ruffle dress too girl, hott man. emo look and all, a real classic.
That picture had me laughing my ass off. The fact that it’s a Jethro Tull album made it ALL the better.
I could sell you my 11 year old, she could regale you for hours about why her life is wretched THIS week!!
Maybe we can send them to an island somewhere where they can compare notes as to who has it worse.
(hint: they all do)
Heh. Interesting how different boys and girls are at that age. My daughter just finished 3rd grade too, and OH HOLY CRAP the drama. When boys at the age have conflicts, it seems to roll off their backs and be gone in moments. Girls have to opine, soliliquize, rhapsodize, and freaking go all Opera about everything first.
As for what I was like at that age, I was basically completely awesome. Obviously.
My son hangs out with girls. Which is WHY, I think, I get The Drama. It’s not very attractive on him. Or anyone, really.
This is why I had zero female friends until I was in my twenties.
Jethro Tull came out of the same level of hell as earwigs. *shudder*
Once 2nd grade is over, it’s all downhill from there. Cheeks is entering 3rd grade in the fall. Heaven help me.
They should rot in hell together.
SNOT dripping down your nose….BAH bah Bah bah bah bah baaaa….
Sorry, couldn’t resist. What if they played a bedazzled pan flute? Nah, they would still suck and totally robbed Metallica!
Allow me to quote from my autobiography that I wrote for school at the age of 9 and that was recently unearthed from the bowels of my mother’s attic:
My Feelings
My feelings are usually bad,
Almost never happy, but sad.
Nothing ever turns out right, Even though I try with all my might
It comes out wrong.
I hope I won’t be me for long.
The next page is “Me: A to Z”, with a word or phrase starting with each letter of the alphabet. Highlights include:
Happiness, which I’m low on
Nervy
Paranoiac
It goes downhill from there.
This would win comment of the year if I had such an award.
Who doesn’t like Aqualung?!?
WHO *DOES* LIKE AQUALUNG!?!
Third grade was awesome for me. Totally drama free. Unicorns, butterflies and fuzzy kittens followed me where ever I went. I was too naive for that not to happen. The only bad thing that happened to me was when my mom tried to buy me a training bra in Kmart.
It’s pretty safe to say, I peaked in the third grade.
By 5th grade I had failed 4th and pushed on to 5th anyway. I was failing 5th, put into special ed classes for the kids they can’t figure out.
Oh, and I was the only girl in the ENTIRE school (grades 5-8) with a D cup.
I think I peaked in kindergarten. It’s been steadily downhill since.
I love this picture. It looks like a retro ad for….something…obvs. not Jethro Tull.
It looks like a retro ad for why people shouldn’t dress their kids like small pirates.
i have one question: how can you not like Jethro Tull????
sigh.
Oh PM, Jethro Tull, just, *sighs*
I don’t remember fights so much. But I do remember my fave neighbor girlfriend’s all-of-a-sudden unavailability. I’d knock on her door – no sorry, not home. Or … sorry, can’t play today. Eventually I gave up, confused and crestfallen. It was my first break up, of sorts. I’ve always wondered why and then one day, not long ago, it clicked — my father’s bigotry. Her ethnicity was one my father used to diss all.the.time. I suppose she got wind of it and her parents told her to leave me alone. I’m not sure if I feel better, or worse, about that.
OUCH! So, after I posted this (I may have to write this down tomorrow), my son came home after playing with the neighborhood kids, right? Turns out some little fuckwad girl-different one-beat the crap out of him. Or tried to.
Dude, I hate kids.
Somehow your frilly blouse softens the edges of your emo.
Yeah, it sort of makes me look like a pirate, doesn’t it?
When I was in third grade the boys made a list of all the girls they had crushes on and the girls found out and stole it out of their desks. My “friend” was looking at it and I asked her who liked me. She gave me a really snotty look and said, “Why would anyone like you , Summer? Your name’s not on the list.” I was crushed. She later got in trouble for stealing the note though…bitch had it coming. That was also the year that I got a bad perm, and when I showed up at school the next morning, a boy from my class told me I looked like Bozo The Clown. He was right though. Yup, that’s the age when it all starts going down hill….
Oh noes! The BOZO PERM! I remember that perm! I wanted that perm SO BADLY and my mom wouldn’t let me get it. I got The Bangs instead. They started at the back of my head and went to the bottom of my eyebrows. Pretty much, I will never have bangs again because I still shudder when I think of them.
I knew immediately what the source of your hatred was. That album sucks monkey nuts. The fact that it came from a decade that I lived in gives me serious toxic shame. Almost as much shame as if I had written that shit biscuit and cavorted around playing the flute to it. Painful man.
I just love you. Like more than words. EXCEPT GAH, NOT THAT FUCKING EXTREME SONG. MY EARRSSS!
My mom ignored a church going bastard molesting me (not very badly, just over clothes touching, but still) because JESUS was more important. I pitched some unholy tantrums ’til I could be allowed to skip church after that.
Dude, I sort of want to smack your mom for that. Then I want to fist-bump you for the tantrums.
Biggest question I have is Who the hell was still buying albums in 1989? CD’s and cassettes were the thing!
Jethro Tull sucked, sucks and will suck for ever more, but then I also don’t get Clapton at all, so take that for what it’s worth. (only Clapton song I like is Lay Down Sally, this fact makes my wife and in-laws cringe)
3rd grade? Decent year, the third grade teacher was SHORT, like not even 5′. This was also the year they start monkeying with advanced reading, math and what not, moving some kids to the 4th grade room during those classes. I wasn’t one of those kids. Also, I was a summer birthday kid and this was back in the day when they didn’t have parties for the summer birthdays at school. So no parties or birthday sleepovers here.
Grade school sucked.
Lay Down Sally is an awesome song, and I’m with you, I’m not a huge Clapton fan either. In fact, most classic rock that other people heart, I hate. I think you and I are destined to be BFF.
I interpreted that look as one of “Oh crap! I’m about to lose an eye to the corner of a Jethro Tull album!”
And you know what? That would be the WORST way to lose an eye.
At age nine I was still afraid of my own shadow. If I were a child today, I would definitely be in therapy. I had one really good friend, and other kids mostly left me alone because I was scary smart. I no longer have that problem ;). It was also the year I got glasses, confirming the fact that I was a complete geek.
Aqualung was not released until the next year. Yes, I am that old. I always liked Tull, and in fact in high school my friends and I used to go see a band in Wildwood NJ who did a huge Tull tribute as part of their show. I just looked them up on YouTube, and it was as good as I remembered. They were called Witness, for the few Tull fans here. And maybe your Uncle was just proudly displaying an album he already owned. There was nothing to indicate he had just bought it, as an earlier poster was assuming.
Thanks for the frilly collared walk down memory lane.
P.S. Your uncle kind of reminds me of Kip from Napoleon Dynamite.
I’d never made the connection to Kip until now, but now I can’t NOT see it.
In third grade? I was probably emo.
But, then again, pretty sure I’ve got a lot of emo days at 34 too 😉
I love that pic!!
I was a huge dork at 9 and still played with my Jem dolls. . .because they were CLEARLY cooler than Barbie. Seriously, a social worker by day and rock star at night – can’t be much cooler than that!
heh, I was so Emo I didn’t get my photo taken.
So there.
And chicky, of course I voted for you (you totally voted for us at Craftastrophe too, right? RIGHT?)