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tamika passmore (but not her homewrecking sister)

29 Jun

The night of my senior prom was pretty much a disaster. I had been dating my boyfriend  (Jacob Frost) for almost two years, and to put it nicely, our relationship was on it’s way out, and I think we both knew it. As much as we fought, we were like a lovey episode of Barney compared to one of the couples we went to dinner/shared a limo with: Natalie Bank and Randy Brown. The group consisted of me and my three best girlfriends now Natalie, Hollie Rice, and Rachel Castillo (but I was just getting to know them back then), and this random other girl who was introduced to me that day (and then I was pulled aside to be told to not be my usual offensive self around her because she was just coming out of a physically abusive relationship. damn, cuz “bitch was askin’ for it” was always my favorite catchphrase), and of course all of their dates.

I honestly don’t remember all that much about my senior prom, probably because I blocked out the traumatic sequence of events. But I think Natalie spilled something on Randy, at the restaurant (which we found out later had serious mafia connections), or vice versa. Words describing things Jacob and I were planning on doing to each other later that night were exchanged (if you know what I mean).

Then we went to prom. Blah, blah, blah. Boy, I miss all those people (not).

After prom, I had an after party at my place. If you’ll remember from my previous post, I had moved out of my parent’s house, and was living in an apartment complex with three older guys. We’d procured a keg and spent the night playing Beirut, which I found out in college was just a pretentious east coast way of saying Beer Pong. I was way too morally superior and uptight to drink at this point in my life, so I ended up crashing pretty early despite the party that raged around me.

I found out the next Monday at school that my prom buddies had all went back to Hollie’s house (with a small entourage following), had sex with their dates, and then fallen asleep. The story that slowly revealed itself as the week went on, was that Randy, in a classic asshole move, had woken up in the middle of the night and fucked this girl Janine Passmore in the bathroom. This wasn’t just Natalie’s prom date. They had been dating since freshman year, she had lost her virginity to this prick, and then he spent the week telling Natalie that Janine was a liar, until he finally broke down and admitted his guilt.

I don’t think Randy even has a Facebook account, and I sure as hell won’t ever be friends with that bitch Janine, just on principle, but I am, for some reason, friends with her sister Tamika, who I’ve never spoken a single word to. This all went down ten years ago, and I still can’t pee in the Rice’s downstairs bathroom without thinking about that night.


28 Jun

I grew up in a really small, really redneck town. The year after I graduated high school, our first sit-down chain restaurant opened: an Applebees. It quickly became the hippest local hangout (weekly karaoke, nightly fistfights, and hourly drink specials). The Wednesdays before Thanksgiving and Christmas were always particularly big nights at Applebees, serving as accidental class reunions as everyone flocks back into town to see their families (and then realizing that they needed to go get drunk if they were actually going to spend that much time with them). The Wednesday before the Christmas my junior year in college stands out in my mind as all kinds of crazy.

It all started out pretty normally. I was in a booth with my two best friends, and James Gallagher, my gay friend I’d had since sixth grade. James and I convinced each other that it would be simply hilarious if we aggressively french kissed, just for laughs. Then I ran into a guy whose name I don’t even have to change for you because I only know him as Bulldog. Like literally, that’s what people call him. Perhaps I should change it to Cletus or Bobcat, but nothing else really says Bulldog like Bulldog.

I had met Bulldog a few weeks earlier at a much tamer Applebees evening. I had convinced him that my name was Natasha, and I was a foreign exchange student from Russia. This proves that Bulldog is an idiot. I didn’t even try to fake an accent or anything. Plus I’m pretty sure the people he was with vaguely recognized me from high school, but whatever.

So on the crazy night in question, Bulldog and his friend, Lee Burges (who we definitely went to school with), invited us to a party at Lee’s house because his parents were out of town. We accepted a ride there with Lee because we were way too drunk to drive. Once at the party, Bulldog immediately invited me to join him in Lee’s parents’ bedroom, a scenario just so darn sexy, I couldn’t resist. We were making out pretty disgustingly, and I’m pretty sure Bulldog thought he was going to get laid. Before I had the chance to tell him he was barking up the wrong tree (get it?), the door to the bedroom opened and in my drunkeness, I freaked the fuck out. My shirt was unbuttoned/almost off, and instead of just closing it, I pushed Bulldog off of me, jumped to my feet, and bolted toward the master bath. Unfortunately, the room was dark and I misestimated where the hallway was and ended up running face first into the corner of the wall. It literally knocked me on my ass. Turns out, the person who opened the door had just been my friend Hollie Rice, coming to check on me. Bulldog and Hollie help me redress and then carried/dragged me to the living room couch. Lee got me a raw steak to put on the shiner that was quickly forming on my face, and I spent the rest of the party nursing my wounds.

The next morning, Bulldog gave us a ride back to the Applebees parking lot, and as I’m getting out of the front seat of his car, he leans over and looks me in the eyes (one good, one black) and says, “I had a really great time last night, Natasha.” Hollie started snorting from the backseat. After Bulldog drove away, Hollie erupted into laughter and said, “What a night! But at least he remembered your fake name the next morning!”

The worst part of this entire incident is that it all went down just a few days before Christmas. So in all the holiday pictures that year, I have this awful black eye. Everyone wanted to know how I’d gotten it, but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell my grandmother about my scandalous night with Bulldog.

To be completely honest, I don’t know why Bulldog friend requested me over six years later. He must have found me because we have so many mutual friends, but I doubt he even realizes that the person he found on Facebook is his long lost klutzy foreign love, Natasha.

jenn g. and alonzo almonte

24 Jun

The summer after I graduated college, when all my close friends went off to start their actual careers, I was known to get pretty wild and loose cavorting about my small town.  It was at this time, that I decided to drag Jenn G, a girl I served with at ********* in the next town over, back to the local Applebees– where nothing good ever happens.

We were sitting at the bar for less than five minutes, when we were approached by two young men.  I recognized Alonzo Almonte from high school.  We were in the same grade, but we ran in entirely different circles.  He was basically your average popular, douchey guy who dated slutty girls and asked them to take a steaming, post-coital dump on his chest.  Or at least that was the rumor going around during our sophomore year.  I did not recognize his friend.

Alonzo and His Friend were immediately taken with us, as most men usually are.  Jenn G was really into His Friend, though I, having relieved my bowels a few hours before, knew things would never work out sexually between me and Alonzo.  But I decided to take one for the team, and go home with them so that Jenn G could get laid.

*Note: This is NOT Alonzo. If it were, trust that I would have followed him upstairs.

We went back to Alonzo and His Friend’s apartment, where we got drunker and played card games.  When the sexual tension between Jenn G. and His Friend became too much to bear, the two of them went upstairs to screw.  Alone in the living room, Alonzo looked at me seriously and said, “Well.  That leaves you and me…”

I looked at him equally serious and said, “Not gonna happen.”  I assumed this was the end of the discussion, and shortly after, I passed out on the couch.

When I woke up, the sun was just coming up.  And so was Alonzo.  He was straddling me, wearing only tighty whities, which he had somehow managed to maneuver my hands into while I was sleeping.  He was also licking my face and moaning that I was his little “vale-dick-whore-ian” (a clever nickname he’d come up with because I was a: our class’ valedictorian, thus the only reason he knew who I was, and b: going to be his whore).  I immediately started struggling, trying to get him off of me, but he was very persistent.  He began begging me to come upstairs with him.  At first I declined, but after realizing I couldn’t get him off of me, I finally agreed.  He went upstairs first and called down to me repeating over and over again, “Come upstairs my little valedickwhoreian.”

While he was calling for me, I snuck out the front door and went home.  I feel really bad about leaving Jenn G. there.  But I guess there weren’t any hard feelings because a few years later, she totally accepted my friend request.

As for Alonzo, I guess he was pretty angry.  Four years later, I found out that he was telling everyone who would listen that he saw me have sex with two different guys at one party.