» Intense Friendships

Violent but not abusive
Back in junior high, I met a guy who was in my grade but had gone to a different elementary school. For the first year, he was my arch-nemesis and we did whatever we could to "get" each other (little pranks, spreading rumors, the occasional act of minor violence like tripping each other as we're passing in the hall). Then, for reasons I can't even begin to fathom (other than that I was wearing more revealing clothes), we became the best of friends over the summer.

So now, here we are, best friends, a slightly nervous, very nerdy hypochondriac (I was "allergic" to everything back then, which he constantly disproved by sneaking things into my food and drink), and a large jock with an impressive intelligence. There was never even the slightest bit of sexual tension or attraction between us, even though we were in enough "private" situations to justify it, he's a bit of a ladies' man (to put it lightly), and I'm not completely unattractive.

Now, he had this idea in his head that I should learn to defend myself, in case I'm ever attacked by someone. So how, might you ask, did he do this? He tested my alertness by, as we were walking down the sidewalk from school, backhanding me in the face out of nowhere. I, understandably, wasn't all that happy with him, but his explanation was "you weren't paying attention!", and I couldn't stay mad at him after that. This was just the kind of friends we were.

So, we had this "hang out" place in the woods, where we chilled and built things out of scraps of wood and pushed each other into the stream running through it. One day, he found a log that must've weighed 200 pounds, maybe more. He TOSSES it at me (remember, jock), hitting me square in the chest (OW) and knocking me over. Fortunately, all I had was a few bruises and a good laugh.

The only time we actually came to blows was when he decided to drop a tree on me. There were plenty of dead trees in the woods, so he pushed one over directly at me while I was busy putting something together. I mostly got out of the way, but it clipped me in the side (he hadn't noticed a sharp bit of branch at precisely the right length up the tree to hit me) and gave me a good scratch. I ran at him, got a few good hits, and was promptly pinned, his knees on my arms. Now, I'm not a small girl, I was about 5'9" (and not done growing) and had enough muscle to (barely) keep up with him on our daily construction projects. I struggled, I fought, I bitched him out, I couldn't move. He told me to calm down, and that he wasn't going to let me up until I do. So I, after a bit, say that I'm fine, let me up. He does. I hit him again. He pins me again.

I finally calm down completely, he lets me up, we head home so I can nurse my wounds, and we get drunk (him having disproven my allergy to alcohol months previous).

We're still friends to this day. He's a police officer, working to become a narcotics officer, and he's engaged to a lovely woman that I hope he's happy with. He's still an asshole, though.

Apologies for length and girth, he's lost some weight since then.
(Sun 30th Jul 2006, 19:55, More)

» Heckles

Dillinger Escape Plan
was playing at a local theatre during a heavy metal show called the Gigantour. Now, for those of you who have had the pleasure of not hearing these guys play, they SUCK. There was one guy in the pit who made it known to the band, quite vocally (I could hear him all the way up in the cheap seats). To his credit, the lead singer came up with a pretty good comeback (and, according to a friend who was standing right next to him, accurate):

Guy: "You suck! Get off the stage!"
Singer: "Oh, what are you gonna do, hit me with your broadsword? Go back to D&D, you fucking nerd."

Cue much applause and laughter from the entire audience, the fuckwad shouted a few more things, they went back and forth a bit, the singer shooting him down every time. He eventually gave up, and DEP proceeded to continue sucking for the rest of the set. They were very energetic, though, the singer actually started throwing equipment around and jumping off of things. Fun to watch, painful to hear. The rest of the show (particularly Megadeath and Dream Theater) was excellent, though.

No apologies for the length of my broadsword, it vibrates on a command word.
(Sun 9th Apr 2006, 9:25, More)

» Thrown away: The stuff you loved and lost.

Sentimental Packrat
I have trouble parting with anything. I've been known to whimper over the prospect of tossing even a broken shoelace, and in my younger years, I'd hide things from my parents to avoid them being thrown out.

I shudder to think of my mental state when my van (which I've already spent more on repairs for than I originally bought it for) finally breaks down for good, and I have to get rid of it. I might end up parking it in the nearby lot and leaving it there, just so I can go and sit in it from time to time and remember the good old days.
(Tue 19th Aug 2008, 19:37, More)

» Spoooky Coincidence

Not spoooky any more...
My friends and I are CONSTANTLY saying the exact same things, at the exact same time, in the exact same tone. It's become so common, we no longer react to these events with surprise, but rather just a mock-glare at each other and, usually again in unison, admonishing the other with "get your own wavelength!"

It got so bad once, a friend and I got "caught" in it. We kept trying to say random things in an attempt to break it, but KEPT SAYING THE SAME THINGS. It only stopped when she said something absolutely ridiculous, making me laugh.

Spoooky coincidence, or are we all just that similar to one another?
(Tue 13th Feb 2007, 11:10, More)

» Body Mods

Bad luck
Not me, but a good friend of mine has terrible luck with her various body mods.

A bit of backstory, this friend, who we'll call M (not that she'd ever see this, but she's one of my best friends and I'm paranoid as hell), used to work as a piercer at a local piercing/tattoo parlor. As a result, she gets lovely discounts on whatever she wants. So she has plenty of piercings and tattoos, all professionally done, all for cheap. And free repairs for life, which is a good thing, as you'll see shortly.

M is also a bit of a risk-taker. She used to go to this place called "The Rock", which is just what it sounds like: a big rock overhanging some water. You jump off it, freefall for a while, and get wet. Great fun for anyone who doesn't have a crippling fear of heights (as I do). So she's there one day, jumps off the hightest point (I forget exactly how high up it is, some rediculous distance that would make me contemplate a parachute and a good insurance policy), and lands a bit off. Doesn't hit anything solid, but her new piercing, which is a spiral that involves a lot of cartilege and hasn't finished healing yet, gets yanked hard by the force of impact and tears almost completely out. Cue massive bleeding, loads of pain, and near-unconsciousness. She gets patched up, gets the piercing fixed somehow, and hasn't been back to the Rock since.

Then there was the lovely tattoo she got on the inside of her wrist. The word "fire" (she's a Leo, and rather into astrology) in a neat stylized font that reads the same one way as the other. While that was healing, it was bumped, prodded, scraped, and otherwise abused daily due to her friends not paying attention. I'm guilty as well, she actually kept score and I was, I think, in second place. But the girl in FIRST place, Randi (who's a lying, stealing, hypocritical dramawhore who doesn't deserve anonymity), did the most damage all at once. She got drunk, and M had to take care of her. So Randi, in a fit of drunken flailing, digs her nails into M's wrist and DRAGS. Cue more bleeding and a good strip of tattoo that's rather faded.

But the worst one happened on a camping trip. A bit more backstory, M, myself, and most of our friends are involved in Medieval/Renaissance reenactment, and at least affiliated with an organization called the SCA. Every summer, for about two weeks, the SCA holds an event in western Pennsylvania called Pennsic, which is basically an unholy (but fun) combination of ren faire, camping trip, and frat party. About fifteen thousand people each year come to this thing. You live in a tent, you're in costume and in character the whole time (though most people don't bother staying in character), and the only showers, unless the group you're camping with is rich, are the public solar showers, about a twenty minute hike from where we were camped. You get your own stall, so there's that much privacy, but there's always the little kids wandering away from their mothers and peeking around the curtains to say "hi". Adorable, but rather irritating. But I digress.

So M was in the shower, shaving her legs (for no reason I could fathom, we're CAMPING, and wearing ankle-length skirts or long baggy pants). She recently had a tattoo done on her ankle, a tribal-ish seahorse. The artist had a slightly heavy hand and put a bit too much ink in it, so it had a bit of texture. Not enough to be something to complain about, but still there. So she's shaving, and all of a sudden notices the floor of the shower turning red. She looks down, and sees that half of her tattoo has peeled off, and is lodged in the blades of her razor. She, admirably, doesn't scream or anything, instead she takes the flap of skin out of the razor, SLAPS IT ON THE WALL (she says it was "as a warning" or something. Odd girl.), and stumbles out to get her friends to help her to the chiurgeons (volunteer first aid). I wasn't there at the time, thankfully, as I don't do well with the sight of blood, unless it's my own. She gets back to camp a while later, we all see the huge bandage on her ankle (which is already starting to soak through), and everyone asks what happened. She promptly weaves a tale involving a cougar attack. I, of course, know that this is complete and utter BS (later verified when she told me the real story), but apparently our campmates aren't that bright. Cue everyone gasping and looking horrified and saying how brave she was and asking if they should call animal control or something. To this day, there are still those who believe she lost half her tattoo fighting a ravenous shower-cougar.


I only have two piercings, one in each ear. Insert length/girth joke.
(Sat 2nd Dec 2006, 23:45, More)