Thursday, November 17, 2005

Too Much Information?

The discussion at lunch today somehow ventured into this odd sharing of strange, drunken things we did in our early twenties. Grammy Pammy shared how they used to tube down the Kish, push eachother around in grocery carts and hop the fence to swim in the neighbor’s pool. Schweaty Man admitted how he unknowingly went to a nude beach in Europe and had to lay on his stomach until an 80 year old woman walked by giving the opportunity to run into the ocean.

I shared some stories, like; skinny dipping in Sugar River, getting the munchies and eating an entire Ambrosia Silk pie with two friends while climbed inside the Kish overpass on Perryville…you know, pretty harmless stuff that shouldn’t get people whispering about me around the water cooler. I must say, however, that Grammy Pammy quickly picked up on mention of “munchies”. I have a feeling she has had many cases of this side-effect herself.

Now, as I sit at my desk, I wonder if their opinion of me would change if they new some of the juicy stuff. Green Bean knows some of it (due to her own participation). My pal Jane is beginning to hear some old stories of naked parties and kissing contests (~sigh, Bob~). Sweet Potato and I have so many stories of high flight its ridiculous. One thing I may have going for me is the fact I had friends in different circles, all of whom I did certain activities with pretty exclusively. No one person knows it all, not even my beloved husband (thank goodness).

I think I like it this way. To quote an email I received this morning: “the idea of people from my real life knowing (too much) totally creeps me out.”

If you have a crazy story to share, post it here…I won’t tell anyone.

2 comments:

Jenny said...

Did anyone else used to 'skitch'? Hang on to the bumper of a car while the driver slid throught the snow at 20mph. Not on a skateboard, just your chucks (canvas tennies) on your feet.

I could've been killed, I know.

Jane said...

All of my craziest stories begin with getting dumped by a guy around the same time one of my friends also got dumped by a guy.

When it was Amy and me getting dumped at the same time, I took her to the races with me to show her what my "other" life was like, and the next morning I woke up and my bra and thong had been run up the huge flagpole in the middle of town. The details in between are sketchy at best.

Mindy and I had a similar evening in Ohio. It started with dual heartbreak, it was fueled by gallon-size Gatorade jugs filled with booze snuck into the track, and made a stop at some random dive bar where we participated in a banana eating contest. Mindy spent that night on a total stranger's couch, and I threw up on the side of the interstate every dozen or so miles all the way from Piqua, Ohio to Indianapolis.

Yet every time I get dumped, I want very badly to relive both of these nights.

And I refuse to believe that my days of generating crazy stories are over.