My stepmom and her boyfriend are going on vacation for a long weekend. And yes, I realize all of you just went, “wait, your stepmom and her boyfriend?” Which, I didn’t realize was weird until a few of my friends were like “yes, that’s weird.” Well, they only said that because they didn’t know my dad and my stepmom were no longer together. They also didn’t know my dad was dead. But that’s neither here nor there.

So they are going away for the weekend and leaving the kids on their own. Except the kids are 19, 17 and 15. So, well, they might need some supervision. She is worried about them throwing parties, etc., so I’m there to throw the hammer down. Or call the cops on them and pretend I’m a neighbor because I’m not going to get blamed for that shit. I have a very long life ahead of me that I have big plans for. Plans that require me not being in jail. And plans that require me to sit my fat ass on my couch whilst watching TV and blogging at the same time. This? Is not capable from a cell. Although, wouldn’t it be nice to not have to worry about what to wear every day? And I would have no problems eating bologna sammiches all the time.

Any-hootie, this whole throwing party thing in high school is completely foreign to me. And no, not because I’m 30 and those kids think I’m, like, so old, and like, what not. It’s because I realize that my mom was so lucky that she didn’t have to ever worry about me throwing a party (in high school), or drinking underage (in high school) or doing anything more than what I’m doing right now – sitting on my ass and watching television.

I was a band geek in high school. It has taken me these 10-plus years since high school to actually admit that to people. Because while I had a good time in band and made a lot of good friends, it was also something I was ashamed of for so long. (Another story for another day.) 

My high school marching band was good. We took it seriously. We were more than just playing at halftime of football games. (In fact, we all HATED performing at football games.) We went to state, regional and national high school marching band competitions. Every year. We always finished in the top 10, if not the top 5, at nationals. (In fact we lost to a band one year whose winning program was the music from Sweeney Todd. And yes, the color guard carried around cleavers. Or maybe that was in my memory.)

Baiscally, we were nerds.

But a big reason why I was in band was because my brother was in it. And I was constantly trying to compete with my brother. And I had to do everything he did, hopefully better. (Band was actually the one thing I might have been better at than him. Band and writing.) I now know the reason I did this was because I was trying to earn the love of my father, who thought my brother walked on water. And figured the easiest way to earn his love was to be just like my brother. (Yet another story for yet another day.)

Like I said, I did enjoy band. Up until about junior year. I became tired of all of it around the end of sophomore year. The director wanted me to be drum major. I tried out, mostly because he made me, but literally went through the motions. Waved Flailed my arms around with my eyes constantly rolled into the back of my head. Because I could not be bothered to do any of that “directing” crap. I was horseshit. On purpose. I made it so there was no way he would make me lead the band on the field. Because that a) meant spending time with him, which makes me vomit in my mouth a little now, and b) that I was committed to band for all four years of high school. Which I wasn’t so sure I wanted. Looking back, come senior year, I was so done with it. It was a rare rehearsal where I didn’t get yelled at. Deep down, it was my nerdy way of rebelling.

I was a very good kid. I was a BAND GEEK for Pete’s sake. My friend and I spent our weekends at the $1 theatre. Where the most unruly thing we did was yell out the trivia answers at the screen before the movie started. Or cheer on Melanie Philpot, who was seemingly always employee of the month. Basically, we were obnoxious teenagers.

If we weren’t at the movies, we were at someone’s house, watching movies or playing board games. I think the craziest we got is if we drank caffeine late at night! Or went to the drive-in! *Gasp*

I did not go to parties. I didn’t drink. I didn’t do drugs. I was a square. But so were all my friends. I had plenty of friends. We spent a lot of good times together. I’m still friends with a lot of them today. I had a lot of fun in high school. And I’m glad that I did hang with such upstanding teenagers. Because I know, looking back, that in a battle between me and peer pressure, peer pressure would have won every time. He brought an undefeated record into every match.

Clearly, I have made up for it. I made sure, during one of my first weekends in college, to consume enough vodka to embarrass a Russian. But even in college, most of us were not big drinkers. I didn’t do most of my damage until California. Where I learned how to party like a single, 20-something with no responsibilities should. And I wouldn’t change a single moment. My liver might disagree, though. To which I threaten him with a weekend-long bender, and it shuts him right. Up.

But high school kids partying and drinking underage, without supervision, will always be a mystery to me. I blame some of it on the fact that I’m an old lady now. But I think a lot of it is because I never once had that thought in my head as a kid, so I assume all kids are the same. And that the world is full of band-geek squares who enjoy a good dollar movie.

Lord help me if I ever have my own kids. Because I am karma’s bitch. And I don’t think you can call the cops and pretend to be the neighbor when it is your own damn house.