Good Times On The Highway to Hell *Part 3

This is another blast from the past post that I thought you would get a kick out of. You can read Part 2 here.

At five years old I loved my baton and was quite good. One day I got mad at my mother and bashed several holes in my closet door. There went the baton and the dream. No anger issues here!

A large group of friends and I would tube down the Nacogdoches River every year. It’s a 6-8 hour trip if you do the full stretch. There is a dangerous waterfall along the way. In previous years I would get out with others and haul the beer coolers around the waterfall. It was so hard on my back. One year I decided to go over the waterfall. As I came over to the other side people were taking photos, clapping, and cheering me on, I was acting like I won a marathon, then someone said to look down, no more two pieces after that.

This is one story I debated telling in case my brother ever reads my blog. He was about six and taking a bath. He starts yelling for me to come in the bathroom, I hurried in to find he had found a washer and put it on his penis. I’m trying to pull the thing off you know the rest of the story. I gave up and left him to figure it out

I wore a beautiful white and light-flowered long dress for a school formal and had the florist make a head flower wreath that matched to wear. I thought it looked beautiful, everyone kept calling me mother earth. Today that would be a huge compliment.

My granny watched my boyfriend and his friend paper our house, never interrupted them, just enjoyed with pleasure. The next morning she wakes me up at 6am to go clean it all up before the neighbors see.

In my bedroom, there was a street light, a street sign that said Goodnight, and 12 orange cones. Granny kept asking where this stuff was coming from. “it was on the street was not a lie”.

My girlfriend and I took all the orange cones and scattered them randomly in the neighborhood of a certain person on our shit list that week. It was a great payback.

In high school, I spent an hour on my hair every morning. Granny was the alarm clock for the household. One day she overslept and there was only time to dress and go to school. I said I can’t go to school today unless I do my hair. Gramps blew a gasket, “school was more important than my hair, you’re going to school!!” I started washing my hair in the sink, we didn’t have a shower. By the time I came out of the bathroom to blow dry hair granny managed to help gramps understand how important a girl’s hair is in high school. Yeah, granny!!!!!!!

I always end with my favorite story.

I was in love with a Purple pantsuit with Elephants on it my granny made. During recess, I tell the teacher I have to go to the bathroom. No, she said go play. A few minutes later I’m back begging to go to the bathroom, NO again, go play. The third time she said No I said “I’ll use the bathroom right here”. To her surprise I had diarrhea, it ruined my favorite suit, and she never even said sorry.

Melinda