Walking into Traffic

There's a certain fallen pop star, who shall remain nameless, who has got me thinking.

First thought: if I still looked the same naked now as I did at age twenty-one, I would probably go grocery shopping in a bikini, so long as Mr. Poppins did not tackle me to the ground and dress me first. I really regret all of the time I spent in clothes back during what the Dol and I refer to lovingly as "the summer of cute." Really, I did the world no favors by not walking around naked.

Second thought: if I still acted the same now as I did at age twenty-one, I would probably be wandering out into traffic, so long as Mr. Poppins did not tackle me to the ground and shake me first. I really regret all of the time I spent thinking way too much about way too little back during what the Dol and I refer to lovingly as "the summer of cute." Really, I did myself no favors by not just walking around naked until I had some life experience to put in my pants.

I cannot overstate the fact that, in spite of how cellulite-free I was then and how cellulite-riddled I am now, I much prefer this decade to the last. Can you imagine if, insert any shining moment of new-to-the-club-scene antics here, that were captured on film and posted on YouTube????

Oh, ye girls gone wild! Oh, ye girls who have yet to learn how to walk in platforms.

Hint: don't even try it drunk.

Now, certainly, I always wore panties when I left the house, although, as stated above, I would have been better off naked. But my panties had glow-in-the-dark stars on them and I spent too much time worried about whether or not they might make it home. I should have spent that time practicing walking in platforms.

I never shaved my head or walked around barefoot in gas station restrooms. But I once got gum stuck in my hair, and I've been known to duck into the men's room on occasion if the line to the women's is too long. The thing is, as gross as it is to be barefoot in a Texaco bathroom, I'm not sure I've never done something equally disgusting.

The difference between me and the fallen pop star is that no one captured my alleged foray into skanky with a camera.

What have I done? Well, I've been too drunk to remember my own phone number correctly when handing it out to an inappropriate boy named Ralph who didn't even have the good sense to insist on a nickname. I've thrown up on Bookgirl's pajamas multiple times in the same night, and her pillow. I've taken more diggers in platforms than I can count. I've had to be carried up the stairs to Diosa's second floor apartment; Blackstone did the honors. And the Dol was once given orders to "Hurry" with a bowl so I could be violently ill without having to leave the comfort of her bed.

I've peed in public places. I've all but licked Mr. Poppins tonsils in front of my co-workers. I've never drunk dialed but that's only because it didn't occur to me.

Guess what? There was almost always a girl drunker than me, always a girl who made worse decisions. Hank bless her. And my friends, also known as witnesses to the debauchery, will never tell. Really, if they want to stay my friends, they will never, never, never tell.

I've already said too much.

Now the rules are different for pop stars, fallen or otherwise, but let's just imagine for a moment that, having been on camera since the age of nine, a full ten years pass without a documented case of idiocy. Imagine adolescence was kind. Imagine the first boyfriend didn't turn out to be a stoner loser jerkface. Imagine millions of dollars were made, mansions were purchased, the world was toured.

Imagine getting to legal age before the dumb set in.

How could such a scenario prepare one for the human tragedy that is the early twenties? Surely, if we were gifted with both the foresight to realize and the good sense to care, none of us would choose fame over privacy. Although, I am truly sorry to say that I never had a chance to make that mistake. But once the money changes hands, once the soul has been sold to the demanding and devouring public, there's no going back. The deal has been made, the price has been set, insert rehab in lieu of promise to Hank to never, ever get that drunk again so long as you only live and the room stops spinning.

I lived to forget. And no one can google otherwise.

Comments

[Diosa]

So She-who-will-remain-nameless has got you thinking, that's something she doesn't inspire too often. I get your point, these girls were train wrecks before they knew any better. I doubt I'd trade places for the money, looks, and fame. I don't envy them.

So you're warning us not to rat you out on drunken stupidity are you? There are only a few occasions where I wasn't more drunk and stupid than you. That night Blackstone carried you up the stairs for instance.

[Polly Poppins]

Thank you for rubbing my head in the morning. Thank you for the orange juice and tylenol. And most of all, thank you for keeping such a clean bathroom, especially the toilet bowl.

[Bookgirl]

I would never say a word about your colorful past, since you have way more dirt on me than I have on you. You went conservative when you met Mr. Poppins. I've had way more additional years to accumulate suspect decisions and episodes of public drunkenness.

[The Dol]

Ah, those were the days. The summer of cute. We did have some fun, didn't we? I was usually the designated driver, so I remember more of it than you probably do. Or, more likely, I remember it differently. It's all a series of images for me: the gang of us girls in bikinis on the beach; going to our favorite dancing spots and having an unabashed good time; going to the outdoor theater and looking at some guy's spray-on hair in front of us and trying hard not to laugh too loud; boob-floating in my dad's jacuzzi (ok, I couldn't partake because mine are too small for that trick); going to the tattoo parlor (I won't say who done it!); boys, boys, boys. We were sowing some wild oats, but we never got to the point that she-who-shall-not-be-named has reached. Hell, at least we weren't involving small children in our antics.

[White Rabbit]

i've only witnessed a small portion of the above episodes, since boys without facial hair weren't allowed to follow to closely, but i heard about the rest!

As for she-who-shall-not-be-named, if that is "out-of-shape" then send me your flabby women. Maybe perspective changes with both alcohol and age.

Oh, and i'm not sure any of you can say you "never got to that point." Little brothers are like flies on the wall and i beg to differ. Like Polly says, i just couldn't afford a camcorder.

[bitsy parker]

Drunk dialing should be illegal. Remember my recent birthday weekend with my high school friends? We decided to call a boy that three of the four of us secretly dated AT THE SAME TIME. He needed to be called by drunk, scorned women, but thank goodness, our friend's sister would not give us his phone number and instead reminded us that he was now married with a baby. Nothing like a somber friend to keep the phone list hidden. Next year we have decided to hide the telephone.