Madame's Nightshirt
Mrs. Peperium
Bovina Bloviator has tagged me. BB, I'm not mad, so no need to ask for forgiveness. Actually, I'm glad you asked. After all, it means I must share six random facts about me. Regular readers need have no anxiety. I'll try to dredge up previously undisclosed facts from my disreputable past.
1. When I was about 5 or 6 one of my little girlfriends and I were banned for life from playing with the boy who lived next door. He had invited us over to play Cowboys and Indians in his basement as he had a teepee that I loved. He was the Cowboy. We were the Indian girls. We managed to capture the Cowboy and make him a member of our tribe. When his mother came down to check on us, she discovered the 3 of us running around the basement wearing nothing but feather head dresses and (finger) war paint.
2. One of the summers of my teeny bopperhood (14 or 15), I had a crush on blonde-haired, bronzed life guard in red swim trunks at Southport Public Beach. He was a few years my senior and very popular with the girls his own age. Being a decent swimmer, at high tide I would swim out past the buoys ignoring the numerous whistle blows calling me back to shore. The blond, bronzed life guard, being the youngest on the squad, was ordered to climb down off his white wooden lifeguard tower, and paddle out to retrieve me n his red surf board. I would tread water, watching him approach. By the time he reached me he never seemed to be in a good mood. Sometimes, he wouldn't even let me ride back on his surf board--something he was supposed to do according to the rule book. I would always get him a Coke for his trouble and as he took it he would say, "Don't do that again." But I would. Summer ended and I never saw him again. Well, until my first summer home from finishing school. I was at the beach sunbathing with high school friends and he saw me. This was new. In the past I had always been the one who noticed him. We chatted and I asked him if he'd like a Coke for old times sake. He asked me if I'd like a rescue for old time's sake.
3. In Maine a few summers later I convinced one of my sisters to be the figurehead on the lobster boat we were using as a floating sun deck. To seal the deal I used the one line of reasoning I knew she couldn't resist: "The guys will love this..". She agreed and we tied her to the bow of the boat, with her arms and legs wrapped backwards along either side. Then I told the guy driving the boat to gun it out of the cove so the boat would ride high on the waves letting everyone around see his new figurehead. He thrust that throttle as far back as he could. It took a while for us to hear my sister's screams above the roar of the engines. When we cut her down, she had rope burns.
4. Shortly after I was expelled from finishing school I convinced the same sister, using the same line ("The guys will love this...") to open a bottle of Rolling Rock with her front teeth. Giving it the old finishing school try ("Girls, always remember when opening your Rolling Rock, to use the incisors...") instead of opening the Rolling Rock, she broke a front tooth.
5. I've ridden a Cowboy-sized mechanical bull. Twice. No, I did not allow either one to toss me.
6. On two separate occasions during my Boston days two chums and I were attacked by strung-out male denizens of the streets. (Probably former mental patients turned out by the thoughtful liberal do-gooders and the politicians in their deep back pockets) Both attackers were stopped in their tracks with well-aimed blows to the head from my authentic (read "not a Japo-Scandinavian imitation) Coach pocketbook.
I hereby tag everyone who reads this. Please use the comment section below. Bloggers, don't forget to provide a link to your cyber-home.
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