(This little diddy is inspired by Kelly at Speaking from the Crib who is invoking the spirit of Intl' Badge Day. I'm not wearing my Greek letters, but I will share a lil' story of the days of Greek old. )
It was the Fall of 1991. Acid Wash jeans still had a place in society, Madonna was still getting her whore on, and grunge was some how considered cute.
I was a Freshman and had just joined a sorority. There were many parties to be had, and on a particular warm desert night, there was a full moon in more ways than one.
I was at a "Westerner" party decked out in my best Western Wares. All of my "sisters" were there dancing away with their cute dates having the time of their life under the stars.
I waited in line at the outhouse so I could make space for another beer, but naturally, the line for only one bathroom was 10 people deep.
Being a gritty girl who'd grown up in the boonies, I decided there would be no harm in finding my way behind a large catcus, squatting down and making nature my very own ladies room.
I peeled down my skin tight jeans under the soft romantic light of the moon and did what I came to do.
Suddenly mid way through my business I realized I was losing my balance. My tight jeans tightly wrapped around my ankles, my feet facing the wrong way on the little hill I had perched on, and the few beers I'd swigged back at the pre party causing my equilibrium to see double.
One thing led to another.......and next thing I knew, I fell backward. Right onto a short, stubbly cactus with a million tiny painful needles.
An architect couldn't have lined my bare butt up more perfectly with this cactus. It was as though this cactus had waited its entire dry life for my ass to nestle onto it. I finally found my way back to standing, and there I was bare assed under the light of the moon with THOUSANDS of needles in my ass.
It hurt. It hurt really really bad. I now realized I had a horrific decision to make. Either pull up my skin tight jeans over my bare ass only to force the needles further into my skin, OR walk bare assed to the bus that was waiting to take all the drunk frat rats and my sorority sisters back to town.
In hindsight, I don't think there was a winning decision in the bunch. I was, after all, only a freshmen and the humiliation of walking bare assed with a thousand needles sticking out to the bus for all the boys to see - well - that was too much for me at age 17.
So, as I stood in contemplation, whimpering a little because it hurt badly, a nice frat boy walked by and asked me what was wrong. I simply angled myself so he could see in the moonlight what the situation was. I told him I needed help.
He took a quick glance and basically said, "Oh dude, you are f&*%ed" and handed me a bottle of Jim Beam. He offered to find my date, but I hadn't seen him in what seemed like hours. Someone, maybe even that same nice guy, went and found a couple of my "sisters" and told them what happened, but they couldn't be bothered to leave their cute dates to come help. Can't really blame them I guess.
So, I pulled up my pants, staggered and gingerly made my way back to the bus and faced an even more horrific decision. If I sat down, the needles would go even DEEPER than they already were and God knows if they'd ever come out or if I'd be a porcupine ass forever.
Since there were hours to go in the party, and we were MILES from town, I wedged myself into a seat as best I could and just waited. Me and the bus driver. It was the longest night of my life.
I finally and miraculously got back to the dorm and was starting to feel incredibly sick from the pain and the needles. I laid on the cool tiles of the shower and let the water pour over me for a really long time. I finally dragged myself back to my room in excrutiating pain. A few hours later I told my dorm mates what had happened and - having grown up in the desert - they were horrified I hadn't gone to the emergency room.
So, they dragged me to the ER and we waited for hours.
Finally I go back to be examined by a cute young doctor, which was even more humiliating. I showed him my ass and - what had to be millions of needles. He was amazed at how many there were and how deeply embedded. (I did not explain the extra tight jeans or the bus ride to him).
He left the room and I prayed he'd bring back a miracle remedy. Instead he came back with a GIANT vat of Elmers Glue. He proceeded to pour the glue all over my bum and explained it's the only way to get the needles out of your body.
You pour on the glue, you let it dry, you peel it off, and slowly the little needles will come out. You have to do this many. Many. Many. Many times before that many needles would come out.
So, he sent me home with my dorm mates. We stopped off to by several tubes of Elmers and spent the entire day with me lying on the floor and them gluing and stripping my ass for needles.
The moral of the story here? Never mistake a cactus for a bush.
Now go give a holler with your story, or just read up on Kelly's wild and whacky stories over at Speaking From The Crib!!
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