I'm decorating again, friends. And doesn't it seem like I just barely did this? I thought so, too. Which is how I feel about making dinner—didn't I just do that a few weeks ago? Geez. It never ends.
Anyway, it's been a riotous time around here lately. Homecoming, Homecoming and more Homecoming, on account of being in charge of the alumni—or as Julia spells it 'iluminy'—events at good ol' CHS. Which is pronounced "chuhs" in case you were wondering. Like lunch-uhs and watch-uhs and witch-uhs.
Did I ever tell you that I was a cheerleader there at chuhs? I did? Well, it bears repeating. Princess Lisa/Varsity cheerleader. So one time we went to competition, which was a really big deal to us, because people just didn't go around competing back in the 80's.
We were lazy farts.
With big hair.
Anyway, we hired a couple of University cheerleaders to teach us an awesome routine, set to "Naughty Naughty," and you may wonder aloud how I remember that when I can't remember to wake up in the morning. One word—priorities. Now quit interrupting.
So we climb inside Nancy's ENORMOUS SUBURBAN where her little sister mouth breathes metallic funk from her unbrushed braces over my shoulder the entire trip. Long story short, we were the only high school that showed up, because APPARENTLY, there was an even more prestigious competition going on at the mall downtown.
Realizing we still have time, we shun the loser host school, hop back into the vehicle and lumber down the freeway to the competition where the COOL kids are. Because we are going to show that damn East High with the bobs and the Beemers that GIRLS WITH MULLETS CAN THROW DOWN!
We were proud—some might even say arrogant. Because clearly...clearly...no. other. cheerleaders. could have spent as many hours whining about practicing as we had. We were that prepared. Sad to say, the person playing our music wasn't, and started it one measure too late.
Like dying Energizer bunnies, we performed a few startled moves, threw some girls in the air, forgot to catch one, then slowed to an aimless wander...not unlike liberals asked to cut social programs. Finally, the loudest voice barked out, "DOWN!" And we obeyed, dropping into our first positions, unfortunately not in correct formation.
Waiting for the music to begin again, Liz crawls over and whispers hoarsely to anyone who'll listen, "Guys! Ouch! I think I broke my ankle! Seriously. Guys. Ow ow ow. I think my ankle's broken. It really hurts. Bad. I think it's broken. Ow. Like, I heard a crack. No, really, ow ow, I'm pretty sure..." then in unison we compassionately HIIIISSSSSS like a nest of snakes to, "Shut it, Liz! You're FIIIIINNNNE! Now DO IT!" And she did.
Turns out Liz did break her ankle. Poor girl busted that thing prit-near in two.
Also turns out that when the base of all of your pyramids has a broken ankle, things ain't likely gonna go your way.
And lastly, turns out we might as well have been taking a dump in an outhouse, we shat that place up so bad.
So what did we learn? Well, stop competing for one. Also, Liz is kind of weak. Plus funky brace mouth makes princesses puke.
But in the end, what would we do without a starting point for our progression? Makes me grateful I was so low, as there was no place to go but up—to the tippy top of the poorly constructed pyramid!
Speaking of up, I have to get up in the morning, so I'm heading for bed~sweet mullet dreams to come. I only hope you have a few of your own...