About that time, the surfing rage was really catching on. My new beau of the month was, of course, a surfer; hang ten, tall, blond, tan and beautiful, Scott Nixon. Mike thought this to be quite amusing. He thought the whole surfer trip was stupid. Scott, in turn thought Mike was an asshole. So all around, it was an agreeable situation. Looking back, I still don’t know how it all worked out, but things were different then and guys just knew that I wasn’t allowed to go steady. With some prompting from Scott, I set out to attain a complimenting surfer look. This consisted of long, straight hair parted on the side, and blond, to the degree of serious abuse. A deep tan, (thanks to Johnson's Baby Oil), was a must, as were Hawaiian printed shifts with hems just above mid-thigh. Mom, even gave me some of my saved money, so I could buy them. They weren’t very expensive. She cleverly thought that this would keep my out of my sister’s closet. I must say that she was very lenient, and let me wear anything I wanted. In fact, she seemed amused by it all. The final touch was a pair of sandals and there you had it, the look of the ultimate surfer, beach-bunny, babe.
However, the last and most important aspect in the bunny stamp of authenticity was surfing knots, located on the knees. This was absolute, unadulterated proof, that the bunny actually handled a surf board and fiercely rode the waves. This didn't pose a problem as my girlfriends and I simply hit at our knees with stones, creating lovely red bumps.
Life was moving right along. I entered a drama class and starred in a few plays such as "You Can't Take It with You" and "Harvey." My drama teacher said that I had a natural comedic quality . . . which, I thought, was quite a nice thing of him to say. The rest of my classes were a synch and a bit repetitive due to the intense curriculum I had endured at Our Mother of Good Counsel. Yes, all was grand and going smoothly . . . that is, until the moment Mike Castro decided to stand back, a bit and let me face my dangers. He called it, building backbone. Mike Valosovich and Johnny Greco, were extremely protective of me and didn’t take to that idea, one bit. They still kept a sharp eye out. I always saw them, like crayons, filling in my background. Somehow, my old friend, Dolly Medrano must have caught wind of the new idea of Mike’s, for she got a hair up her ass and decided to fight with me. She picked a day when she knew Mike was absent, which meant, that Greco and Voyavitch, weren’t around, either.
"Hey surfa girl," she purred as she rammed me against a schoolyard fence. "Jur in my way. I'm thinkin that ju owe me an apology."
Silence on my part. Panic.
"You fucker.” she pushed at me. “Ju and jur little surfa chicks are just a bunch of pussies." She spat at my feet, and then motioned for her bitches to come forward.
"Shut the fuck up, Dolly!" Why did I just say that?
"What did ju just say to me, Bitch? Eh? Did I hear ju right?" She turned to her pack. "Ju hear dat! She just said fuck to me!"
“Aaaaaaawwwwww!” Her friends all whooped and started twirling their belt chains.
Jeren Corseau
they didn't have chains. seriously now. haha. I remember this one before, too.
Friday at 4:49pm ·
PauLa Servetti
Yes seriously , I should put their belt chains, they connected and then Hung down, maybe you aren't familiar, I keep forgetting that people may not know this. Yes, chains....
Friday at 7:21pm ·
PauLa Servetti
Ya I reposted this cause a few people wanted to see in on blogger and I can't put a link to it on myspace cause they are not compatible at the moment cause of spamming
Friday at 7:25pm ·
Friday at 8:33pm ·
