Tale of the Rotten Child.

Today's challenge: A vivid childhood memory.

I think as a child I was really good at convincing people of what an angel I was. I was a good liar. Truth be told.. I was rotten. No childhood is complete with out a partner in crime. I met Rochelle in fourth grade and we instantly clicked. I spent almost every weekend at her house having slumber parties. One time we decided to give our selves makeovers, starting with our hair. I don't know if we were trying to make it "shine" or if we just wanted it to grow, but we had heard mayo was good for your hair, so we thought "why not"? The problem was we couldn't stop there. Once we got down to the kitchen, we decided EVERYTHING was good for your hair. So in a bowl we mixed mayo, eggs, lotion, pickle juice, oats and who knows what else. After we mixed the perfect paste we applied it onto our hair. I think her mother caught us about the time we were rinsing it out with hot water. Do you know what happens to eggs in hot water? They cook! I may or may not still be picking eggs out of my hair to this day.

Doing a science project on drinking. Those dark circles have haunted me since day 1!

Something I should mention about Rochelle and I is that we met at a private catholic school. This either says it all, or has you just as convinced as the others of what sweet "angels" we were. I think the number one thing the two of us had in common were boys, and we were crazy about them. About three years into our friendship it happened, we liked the same boy. I don't really remember how we came to the conclusion he wasn't worth our friendship, but we did agree revenge was in our future. We called him to let him know there were no hard feelings about the way things turned out and we wanted to meet him at the park for a picnic. Now, remember when I mentioned the fact that I was rotten? so we agree I warned you? OK. Rochelle and I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for our picnic with this boy, we had smooth PB, he didn't. We thought revenge and PB&J's were best served with cat food. The poor kid ate half his sandwich before he was "full" and fed the rest of his sandwich to the ducks. We felt bad (years later) and confessed.  He told us he just thought the PB was stale and didn't want to hurt our feelings. Sucker. I admit it is not one of my finest moments, but my life is full of those and I have to blog about something, right?