Bad as I wanna be, Part 2

So here's the rest:

- In fifth grade me and a friend of mine decided we didn't like this other girl Michelle. It was kind of messed up because I had just been friends with Michelle. Anyway, the elementary school we attended was very odd in that there were no real walls separating the classrooms. Each grade had a big open area with a desk for a teacher's aide in the middle. Also in the middle when we were in fifth grade was a large cubby-type mailbox and every student and teacher had their own slot. The teachers used it for sending home fliers for our parents and giving back graded work; we used it for trading notes with our friends and Valentine distribution. There were no real rules for the mailboxes - why should there be? My evil friend and I left a note in Michelle's box telling her we were going to kill her bunny. She was always talking about her stupid bunny. I think we might have even prank called her and whispered "I'm going to kill your bunny!" and then hung up. Michelle showed our evil note to a teacher and not long after that they got rid of the mailboxes. Oops. Sorry, class. I really don't understand what my problem was. I love animals! (On a very sad final note - I had photography class with Michelle in high school and she remembered everything. I scarred her.)

- I guess my friend and I hadn't had enough fun torturing Michelle, because we convinced her that we wanted to make up in order to torture her more. We met her near the jacket hooks in the hall one day. I brought with me a fake hand that my brother bought for Halloween. I stuck it up my shirt and then told Michelle we should shake and call a truce. She shook the fake hand and I let it go and the screaming commenced. EVIL!

- Another friend Nancy, who lived just around the corner, always came over to my house even though I don't think her mother liked me very much. Couldn't possibly be because I practically forced her to break her mother's rules, namely Nancy, you shall not paint your nails. Even then I knew that was a ridiculous rule and was always begging Nancy to let me paints her nails. Boy, I most have chosen some friends with spaghetti backbones - no one ever really stood up to me, and Nancy was probably the softest of them all. Not only did I paint her nails, I put makeup on her (scandalous!) and also tried to teach her how to ride a horse (my chair) which left her pining hard for some horseback riding lessons, and I'm sure her mother didn't appreciate all the begging. Nancy was the first real victim of my bossiness, I think. She loved to come over and play with me but I always took the good Barbies and good Breyer horses and left her with the crap. Dear Nancy, she was always happy with the crap. And if she wasn't she sure didn't let on.

- Jessica (the one who abetted my "love note" to Jeff B.) and I used to love to go a few doors down to offer free babysitting to a set of twins in a very large family. Their mother always said yes because she was overwhelmed and she didn't care if you knew it (there were about 7 children there at the time). For some reason, we adored one of the twins and loved to make the other one cry. Is that normal when you're little, to want to make someone younger than you cry? This must happen with younger siblings, right?

- Another friend of mine in elementary school became a great friend of mine in middle school, but when we were really young she came over to my house for the first time and I introduced her to all my dolls and we started to play. I don't remember what I said (or more accurately, what shitty toy she was forced to play with while I got the cool one) but suddenly she looked up at the clock and said, "It's 1:03. My mom told me to be home at 1:07." After she left I told my mom and she said "You need to stop being so bossy," which evidently I didn't take to heart until middle school when suddenly I was groping for friends because all my friends made new friends.

- For my 13th birthday my parents were feeling very generous and said yes when I asked them if they would rent me a limo for the night so my friends and I could just drive around. In high school they probably would have said no for fear of providing us with a rolling pub, but we were only 13 which meant I was too young for them to be worried yet. (Oh parents, bless your ignorant hearts.) So I chose five friends and we got dressed up (man, did I love having the power to make my guy friends wear ties!) and we just...got chauffeured around. We blasted the Reality Bites soundtrack and the Cranberries. Hardcore partiers, I know. There was a girl in our class, Sara, that had a fancy party for her birthday (fancy = hired a DJ) at the community center and had neglected to invite me, and she invited a lot of people, including all my friends in the limo, who wisely declined in favor of big pimpin' around St. Louis with the Gabsta. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why she didn't invite me to her party, which incidentally, was held on my birthday. So I decided to crash that bitch's party. I asked the limo driver to go to the community center, and not five minutes after we pulled up her entire party was coming outside to investigate the limo. We let a few people sit in it to rub it in but then kicked them out and drove off, and I will never forget the look on Sara's face as she stood at the back of the crowd glaring at me and my sparkly white limo. Of all the crappy things I've done, I'm proudest of this for its supreme timing and execution. Poor Sara got TSS in high school (but NOT from a tampon, OK? NOT!) and I'm pretty sure the subsequent social damage hurt a lot more than me not getting invited to her party. But whatever.

- One day in high school I came back from doing some illicit extracurriculars in the parking lot with the only friend I've ever had that I'd qualify as a bad influence (after all, that was usually my job). I'd had a little too much of the extracurriculars and must have been feeling very ballsy, because I went up to my ex-best friend's new best friend, who was sitting right next to my ex-best friend, and I said "She probably only likes you because you look like me. But I'm funnier than you, did she tell you that?" I still honestly can't believe I did something like that at age 15, because by then I was very much over my taunting stage. It was the extracurriculars, I swear! But actually people confused me and the new best friend all the time because we could have been sisters what with all the freckles and red hair and association with the same friend. They are probably still best friends. The difference is, now I don't care.

You know what? Suddenly I'd rather disclose some of the mean shit that has happened to me. Just to show you karma has a sense of humor, which I'm sure you already knew.

- I grew up in a neighborhood surrounded by kids I went to school with so there was never a shortage of people to play with. We were very good at organizing our own games in the middle of the street. We usually played kickball and used trees as bases. I was covering first base one day and for some reason decided to do a cartwheel instead of pay attention. My neighbor Laura had just kicked the ball and was running towards first base and smacked her head right into my cartwheeling foot. I say she smacked into my foot and not the other way around, because seriously, who aims their cartwheels? I couldn't have cartwheel-kicked her if I tried. Yet when she collapsed on the ground in tears, everyone, included my so-called BFF Jessica, turned on me and got all up in my grill like "Why did you do that?!" and "YOU COULD AT LEAST SAY YOU'RE SORRY!" which I totally and definitely did but no one heard me. I ran crying into my house and didn't come back out.

- This doesn't really have a specific story attached, but imagine being a little larger than most of your classmates and having a name that rhymes with Flabby. And a last name that rhymes with Puking, which had nothing to do with being fat.

- Another little Jessica, a far more annoying one, frequently challenged my status as an adopted child. "Nuh-uh," she'd taunt. "You're not adopted," to which the only logical response is "Want to call my mom and ask her?" I swear that turd would challenge me on a weekly basis, and it was very upsetting. I know, I know, WAH! You're the girl who threatened to kill someone's bunny!"
Another time she accused me of eating my eye boogers, which, NO. I most certainly did NOT. I know she was just trying to get me riled up so I'd admit that I'm not really adopted. Twit.

- Between 10th and 11th grade, I was one of 16 students to go to Germany for one month as an exchange student. I was very psyched about this trip - a month in a foreign country where we CAN DRINK, sans parents, and I also thought it was going to be a lot of fun because I had a pretty good friend going with me. She wasn't one of my best friends, but I hung out with her and her best friends frequently. What I didn't expect was for her to crawl up the asses of all the upperclassmen that went. I know they thought I was a fat ugly dork. I know it. As soon as the plane landed, this chick no longer associated with me, and I was crushed. Not only did my exchange student/hostess, Carmen, swap personalities with a raging bitch that she didn't bring along to America, I was ditched by my "friend" from home for people who bummed cigarettes from me (douches didn't bring a carton like I did) and then told me in disgusted tones that my cigarettes were stale. FUCK YOU. DON'T ASK FOR ANOTHER. I would like to say that I gobbled up every learning, social, or cultural experience while in quaint little Tauberbischofsheim, but closer to the truth would be that I sat on the balcony of my host family's house smoking my stale cigarettes and writing letters to my friends, who, I learned from letters, were embroiled in much better drama than Should I go watch Carmen's fencing lesson like she wants me to or go inside where it perpetually smells like snot and watch bad German TV? You know the TV won out.

Ok, wow. I'm realizing that I was generally a lot more horrible to others than they were to me. I'm done now.