Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Random Story

As I am sitting here, working my tail off making myself look busy, this random memory popped into my head and I feel the need to share.  So here goes....

Back when I was in HS, I was mostly a goody-goody.  I was in student council (senior class prez, holla!!! hahahahahaha), got (for the most part) good grades, played sports, and was involved other extra-curricular activities.  I didn't really party much, I was always home by my curfew, and every time I was in a bad situation my guilt would most likely take over and I would bail.  Reminds me of the time in 6th grade when I climbed a tree in my friend's yard and cried while my 2 besties tried cigarettes for the first time.  I thought they would be doomed for life after that - scuzzies that only smoked cigs, drank alcohol straight from the bottle, would only wear black, and they would smell bad (that was the picture I painted in my head - I was in 6th grade, cripes!).   Talk about a flashback!!! 

Okay, on to the real story.  I think it was around my senior year of HS when my mom extended my curfew to midnight on the weekends, and eventually I really didn't have one.  I was dating this boy (most awkward relationship ever) and we would hang out at his house, watch movies, talk (for real, we would talk...no funny business.  I told you this relationship was awkward), whatever. 
For some reason though, I would always end up staying over at his house really late...sometimes like 2-3 in the morning.  My mom knew where I was, so it's all good but for some reason every time I would come home I would "sneak in" because I was afraid she would wake up and be mad that it was so late.  So one night, or morning, around 2ish, I drove home.  As I pulled up to my house I turned my headlights off so they wouldn't shine into a window and wake her up. I creeped up to the side door of our house, opened it as quietly as possible and stepped in.  The entry way to the side door was really small - basically big enough to come in the door, shut the door, and then either step down the stairs to the basement or step up to the kitchen.  Well, it was REALLY dark in the entry way.  So dark, that my eyes never adjusted and I seriously could not see a thing.  As I was closing the door, all I could hear was this thumping on the stairs.  It sounded like someone was running up the stairs at me but I couldn't see a thing so I freaked out.  I bolted so fast into the kitchen, blasting my hip on the kitchen table, turning on every light I could find, heart beating so fast, maybe a tinkle or two running down my leg, only to turn around to nothing.  What the crap was running up the stairs at me?  Well I pictured this:
Oh don't worry, it was just this:
I must have knocked a shoe down our basement stairs when I opened the door and that is what scared the bejesus out of me!  I don't think I have ever been more startled in my life.  This is a situation where my love of horror movies clearly backfired. 

I don't know why that story popped into my head just now but every time after that incident I would make sure that no shoe would ever get the best of me again.  Then I bought these really cute boots a couple years later that made me want to cut my feet off. 
Okay, that's all I have.  Happy Tuesday!  We are one day closer to the weekend! :)

See ya later suckas!

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