***GUEST BLOGGERS WEEK***
To keep the party going, we got KindredSmile, one of my BFFs and mother of my Goddaughter, Liggy (Lil Ignant). We go way back, to days of high school yorn, when we rocked K-Swisses and tapered pants with Nike t-shirts. We’d like to forget those days but there’s too much pictorial evidence. She’s also one of the IGs that blogs over at IGVille, but she has her own blog called “I’ll Think of a Title Later” (*side-eyeing Kindred because the blog is like 6 months old and her trifling face ain’t picked a title YET!*). Anyway, she’s chock full of random adventures and they are always the stuff of F My Life, with extra hilarity. Enjoy. - Luvvie
I feel like we now know each other well enough for me to share my colorful past. With that said, I have an astonishing secret to admit….I wasn’t always a Cool Kid. I know, I know, I’m reeling from this news as well. I’ll give you a moment to let that thought marinate. In the meantime, click here and giggle.
Now that we’ve all accepted this realization, let me regale you with a tragic tale of hopeless dorkdom.
It starts, as many of my shenanigans do, in the heart of the Wessside at my neighbor Shira’s house. You see, Shira was cool because she
got felt up in abandoned hallways didn’t have any parents to speak of, and consequently no rules to follow. As an alarmingly naive twelve year old, I thought that if I hung out with her enough, I’d somehow stumble upon the Key to Cool. Unfortunately, these opportunities were few and far between – like the Pitchfords, Shira was on the Banned Buddy list.
One day Shira got the bright idea to take up smoking. (Sidenote: how does one decide to start smoking? To this day, I still don’t understand that.) I, being a fan of various After School Specials, knew that this couldn’t lead anywhere good, and very nobly let her know that I wouldn’t partake of such cancerous shenanigans. I was, like, totally proud of myself for standing up in my beliefs and fully expected some kind of ribbon-pinning ceremony before the days end. However, Shira was not one to be denied. Over the weeks to come, she launched into a full-out Non-Smokers are Bogus as Hell campaign, which included the following points:
- Non-Smokers are bougie.
- Smoking is real mature and grown.
- Non-Smokers are wack and unattractive.
- Smokers get awesome, fancy lighters to play with. AND they get to hang out and talk about…smoking.
- Non-Smokers might get their @ss whipped if they don’t take up smoking.
I caved around week five. I convinced myself that if I tried it and refused to do it again, then maybe I would convince Shira to give it up as well and we could all live happily ever after, cancer-free. Armed with this delusion, I snuck over to her house and cooly asked her for a light. (Sidenote: I got my cigarette from going through my Mom’s purse. Shira got her cigarettes by strong-arming the dude at the liquor store on the corner).
So she gives me a light, and I think to myself, Man I’m sooo cool. Smoking ain’t sh*t. I coulda been done this. One puff, two puff, three puffs – what’s all the fuss about?
Then I make the mistake of actually inhaling.
OHMIGODICAN’TBREATHEi’mdyingi’mdyingi’mdeadwaitnostilldying. Eyes watering, I start wheezing and coughing relentlessly, gasping for precious oxygen as my virginal lungs burn with searing smoke. The wheezes turn into hacks as I stumble around her room, then ka-blam! I trip in my flip flops and slam forehead first into her dresser. I wail and cough some more, then collapse on the bedroom floor. I don’t remember much else.
Lesson learned: Smoking can give you cancer AND a mild concussion.
shown: 12 year old Kindred at the hospital. not shown: dignity, clean lungs.