Just getting nostalgic over my many firsts...
The “First Time” : Yes, I mean sex. This is the one everyone always wants to know about. Well, I ain’t gonna tell ya. Let’s just say that it involved me, a boyfriend, a red convertible, and a pesky neighbor that got me mixed up with my mom. ‘Nuff said.
The first time I ever got drunk : High school, at the beach in Del Mar, wine coolers, vomiting. Lots and lots of vomiting. In broad daylight. My friends dragged me into the water to wash me off. Ugh.
The first hangover: That was just last year at Mardi Gras. Thirty odd years without a hangover... But I bet they'll catch up with me.
The first love interest: Shaun Cassidy. But don’t you think he was a babe? Come on, that feathered hair was to die for...
The first obtainable love interest: Greg Rosa, the cutest guy in 4th grade at St. John’s Elemetary School.
The first obtained love interest: I won’t name names, because I still hang out with him, even though we started dating in high school and broke up because I was bored and then got back together and then broke up again when he dicked me over and then started seeing each other again and... well, you know how those things can be.
The first car: Green1972 Volvo 164SE w/fuel injection. I bought it for $800 & drove it for 5 years. I don’t want to traumatize myself by figuring out how much I spent fixing it, but I loved it.
The first brush with fame: When I was eight years old, I won Honorable Mention in Cricket Magazine for the following poem:
The peaceful seashell
Sitting on the beach
Like a wishing well
Full of songs it can teach.
Soft songs, hard songs,
Always something new;
The songs of a seashell
Will never make you blue.
I was in all the local papers. I guess I’ve used up my fifteen minutes.
The first pet: Fluffy the cat. I got him when I was three and he died when I was 22. He was big and yellow and, well, quite fluffy. He had extra toes and would suck them when he was happy. He had bad breath and farted alot and would have seizures that made him lose control of his bladder and spin around in circles. And he was mine, all mine.
The first kiss: Quite cute, actually. It was about 4am and he had snuck over to my house (I was in Catholic school, what else could you expect?) and he actually asked first. Doesn’t it almost make ya sick?
The first fight: The first fight I can remember was with my friend Pam, and I think it was over a Shaun Cassidy or Andy Gibb poster, but we scratched each other up and pulled hair and all that fun girl stuff until my mom separated us and forced us to make up.
The first favorite band: DURAN DURAN! And I still love ‘em. I should, I spent enough babysitting money on them. JOHN TAYLOR IS A TOTAL BABE! I think he’s actually a decent bass player as well.
The first act of vandalism (not counting toilet-papering homes): This gets a little hazy- there was such a long string a mischievous acts- but the first one I can remember involved an illuminated Carl’s Jr. sign in my friend’s living room... or was it that eight foot chicken...
The first zit: Can’t answer that one. Not because I don’t remember, only because I didn’t get one, I woke up with thousands.
The first vivid memory: I was about three years old and chucking lemon cupcakes with pink frosting at monkeys at the San Diego Zoo.
The first concert: Donny and Marie Osmond. I was six. (To make up for it, I took my little sister to see the Oingo Boingo Good For Your Soul tour, and my little brother to the Pixies Doolittle tour as their first concerts. I didn’t want them to be traumatized, as I had been.)
The first time I caught my parents DOING IT: I haven’t because they don’t. That’s just too gross.
The first serious injury: I fell off a monkey bar and fractured my leg. My parents didn’t believe me though. That night, when I had to go to the bathroom, they told me to go myself. I’m probably the only person in the world who actually broke her leg by falling off the toilet.
The first day of school: I got on the wrong bus on the way home and the bus driver dropped me off five hours after school got out. My mom had my kindergarden teacher’s ASS.
The first record: Disney’s Tiki Room, with the narration to the Jungle Cruise ride on the other side. To be played on a white and pink Fisher Price turntable only.
The first time getting stoned: High school. Of course, I had a friend with one of those hippie dads who grew his own pot, so a bunch of us went over to smoke it and listen to Pink Floyd. I sat in a chair and stared at everyone else all night. I guess I was stoned, although I thought I was just really bored.
The first Dead show: Everyone always said you have to experience one, so I went and smoked a little and sort of fell asleep. I could still hear people around me and someone said, “Hey, check Mo out... She’s really getting into it man...”
The first job: Miller’s Outpost. I still have my name tag - a plastic yellow star proclaiming “Howdy!” Sheesh, how revolting.
The first mean thing I ever did to an animal: Gave beer to a duck. It was my duck. My friends told me after the fact that since ducks couldn’t burp or fart, that they would blow up because of the carbonation in the beer. I was really terrified that our duck would explode and my parents would find out I’d had people with beer in our house.
Ah... There are so many first times in our lives. I can only hope that my little journey into the past has inspired similar joy and nostalgia in you, the reader. Excuse me while I slip Rio onto my turntable and dance around in my Rick Springfield Working Class Dog jersey; I’ll be alright. Really.
