Shooting from the mouth: blah spring to summer whatnot Column by The Lovely Tami Ryan
I'm sure that I owe Jordan more of an apology for my absence than any column reader, due to the fact that my lack of column forces him to occasionally drop uncomfortably obvious hints about writing something (hints like "why don't you write something?!"). So I apologize to you, Jordan A. Baker, for not standing by the pastepunk committment to excellence, which remains ever so much higher than the one over at punkrocks.net.
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I'm having a bit of an adjustment problem with spring this year it seems. As it gets warmer I want to spend more and more time on the opposite side of the bridge (the home side) rather than the school side of the bridge. Despite what I said throughout high school and undoubtedly up until nearly this point, the whole place is really starting to grow on me. This is undoubtedly due to the fact that soon, one of my main reasons for going home (the fact that my soon to be live-in boyfriend lives on the opposite side) won't exist anymore because he'll be living on the school side with me (hurray!). I'm certain I'll still be crossing the bridge a lot to see my parents and friends, but moving here is about to happen for real, for my dog even. Adulthood approaches.
Summer approaches as well though and it teaches us all some lessons, so let's try talking about some formative weirdness from summers past. Everyone has a kid that they hang out with because their sibling or mom is friends with the kid's sibling or mom. My kid like that is named Wes, and I still hear about him to this day through his mom and sister. Wes and I were in the same kindergarten class, which provided enough of a window for our moms (both room mothers) and our sisters (both around four years old) to become fast friends, even though Wes and I quickly became un-friends after the school year ended for whatever reason. Needless to say, Wes and I still spent a lot of time around each other. We co-existed in relative peace until a number of years later at his family's 4th of July picnic. Wes, his sister, my sister and I started playing "the blob" outside. You know, that game where one person puts a blanket over their head and tries to tag the other people. This is undoubtedly a tremendously unfair game but he agreed to be "it" as long as we warned him that he was about to run into the tree planted in the center of their front yard. We assured him we would, and we intended to, but within thirty seconds he had collided with the tree pretty hard and had gotten pretty mad. We apologized and he was convinced to be it again. Uh..repeat and then...again. By now, Wes is VERY angry and disappears inside. His departure was not at all reassuring to me knowing that Wes would seek revenge, but things went on as normal for maybe an hour. When Wes finally appeared downstairs again, he was still angry and me denying that we meant for him to get hurt further enraged him so much that he threw a tomato slice at me, which stuck. Continuing with the ridiculous nature of this entire exchange, I started crying. Looking back, this event can definitely be compared to the abuses I would suffer at the hands of Superfresh and Walmart customers, so it's good I got the tears out before any of the numerous customers/assholes got ahold of me and complained about the lack of sugarless Lucky Charms.
Every kids's least favorite formative summer experience is getting head lice. I got mine from being a lion (entailed wearing a lion head) in the Backyard Circus at King's Dominion. Dancing with the guy in the Shamu costume at Seaworld would also end badly, with me getting heatstroke, but that's beside the point. I was about eight years old, and hadn't ever had lice, so I managed to unknowingly have head lice for a long time. We were visiting my great uncle in Pennsylvania, ten hours from home, when it was finally discovered. Hahaha, I feel so bad, but I have to laugh a little just because the whole deal was SO horrible. I'd given it to my sister, my mother, my grandmother, and I would've given it to my uncle if he'd only had a little more hair. I had to throw out my favorite denim hat...I think my uncle was ready for us to go home especially since this might have been the same visit that my sister drove his brand new riding mower right into a tree!
Alright, one more formative experience and then I have real work to complete besides long overdue columns. It took me much longer than it needed to to even try to get my driver's license. I was really, really terrified of operating motor vehicles. It took me a long time to even ride a bike without training wheels. The only reason mine ever came off was probably because this kid down the street who once peed in front of everyone at the bus stop made fun of me for not riding a two wheeler. I guess I've always dragged my feet when it comes to these sorts of advances. Basically, I had a pretty hard time learning to drive (which I have always at least partially blamed on never having a Power Wheels). I did really well on my driving test, after running over the "killer curb" on the first shot and instantly ending my chance for the day, but undoubtedly the lesson in this formative experience was to have a little faith in myself. That's undoubtedly something in which all of us that aren't ego-driven assholes could use some reaffirmation. Get to it.
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I have to admit, it also brought a sparkle to my eye to have these facts in honest to god statistics. According to Maggie Fox's Reuters article, "Americans Fail
to Protect Against STDS, Study Says", people are out doing all sorts of ridiculous things! Here's some cold, hard facts:
*93% said they were sure their partner did NOT have an STD even though they were not sure their partner had been tested.
*82% of the sexually active polled said they NEVER used condoms during oral sex.
*64% NEVER used condoms during anal sex.
*47% NEVER used condoms during vaginal sex.
*Even of the ADULTS polled-71% never protected themselves during oral sex, 42% never protected during anal sex, and 23% never protected themselves during vaginal intercourse.
PEOPLE what is the fucking problem here?! This could almost be compared to being too lazy to get up to change the channel when you lose the remote. I guess that's the whole deal, just being too damn lazy. This article doesn't even discuss the pregnancies that also undoubtedly result.
The stupidest part of this is how 93% say their partner has got to be clean, because you know, they talked about it and they said so. There are a lot of people in the world today you just can't trust, and I'm sure a lot of you have realized through past experience that many times those people pose as people who care about you. Take matters into your own hands this summer and be more careful, because if Trojan Man shows up in real life he's more likely to take your wallet and have his way with your lady friend.
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I feel like I have been trying to finish this column for an eternity, and it probably seems that way to Jordan as well, but I guess with the unusual amount of writing I've had to do this semester, stuff pops up in my head to put into the column, but is then lost when I have to start writing about the history of documentary photography (this afternoon's agenda) or about my own artwork. I really wish I had more time to write a better column than this one right now. I genuinely have too much other work to do to craft the column as carefully right now as I'd like. You guys might remember the love advice column Brandon (from PR.net) and I were going to collaborate on...since Brandon doesn't really exist any longer on the virtual plane, if anyone's interested in my half of the advice, send it to tami@pastepunk.com and at least I can add some pastepunk content that way.
