Thursday, November 20, 2008


I've had writer's block or something the last few weeks, but hopefully it will end and I can keep writing these stories. Because while I am hopeful that you readers out there are entertained by them, honestly I think I benefit the most because dang it, my life is kind of hilarious and I love remembering and recording all this stuff!

Anyway, just now I was re-reading my stories and I realized I made a false claim at the end of my "Love is in the Air (Sort Of)" post. I stated that getting accidently hit in the boob was the most action I've ever had and that (sadly) isn't true. Why is that sad? you may ask. Well, here's the tale so you will know the answer...

I have this friend, I'll call him Foster. Because that's his name. We've known each other since 7th grade, and we've been friends since high school. Foster is the loudest and most un-filtered human being I've ever known. He says things that would normally be considered socially innapropriate and he says them very loudly. To be fair, he's actually calmed down a lot since he got married a few years ago, but even now he's crazy and loud.

My friendship with Foster is built on a strange foundation. Instead of becoming close through lots of soul-bearing conversations (as is the case with most of my other dear friends), we became close through a shared love of innapropriate humor and teasing each other. I used to call Foster names and punch him in the arm and laugh at him a lot, and in return he would make fun of me and smack me and shove me to the ground in public a lot. Sounds fun, right? (In a totally twisted way, it really was.)

So, the first summer after freshman year at college, all of us home-town friends were back home in Vancouver. We were so happy to be reunited again and spent almost every night and/or day together when work and other obligations didn't get in the way. Our friends tended to go through silly phases, like mooning phases, or capture the flag phases, or T.P'ing phases, etc. One week, the boys went through a phase called the "molesting each other for fun" phase which involved thwacking each other really hard in the nuts and then laughing hysterically while exclaiming, "Just checking for balls!" It was up there with such awesome pranks like "what's the capitol of Bangladesh" (Bangcok). Us girls would watch them do this to each other and roll our eyes at their immature senses of humor, but we knew boys would be boys and mostly just ignored their behavior.

The Portland area used to have church dances every Friday and our little gang attended every single dance. I always knew I needed to be on guard at these dances because for some reason Foster would get extra hyper and I was twice as likely as usual to end up with a bruise on my arm from a friendly punch or to be shoved to the ground in a make-believe mosh pit. One night, we were at a dance and I had watched the boys get more and more silly, but so far they had just been bugging each other and had left us girls out of it. At one point, my girl friends had all left me to go to the bathroom or something and I was left standing alone in the church gym. I was watching everyone gyrate on the dance floor when someone caught my eye. That someone was Foster. He was standing 20 or 30 feet away from me and when we made eye contact, he got an evil little grin on his face. He suddenly SPRINTED towards me and all I had time to do was brace myself for his impact (I was sure I was about to get thrown to the floor.) At the last second, Foster veered to my right and reached out with his hand and SLAPPED ME ON MY CROTCH.

He circled around me laughing hysterically while I picked my jaw up off the ground. I was shocked for 2 seconds and then I was PISSED. "Foster!!! What the HELL do you think you're doing?????" I screamed. "Oh, you know...Just Checking For Balls!" He yelled and then ran away obviously proud of himself.

I went out to the foyer to calm myself down and met my friend Ryan (yes, the same guy from the infamous Master story) who was out there avoiding girl drama or something. I let him vent for a minute and then thought it was my turn to vent and receive a little pity and TLC in return. When I told him what had happened, I fully expected him to be outraged at Foster and maybe even go defend my honor or something. Instead, Ryan started laughing. He laughed for a really long time. "Seriously?!" I asked him. "If that had happened to any other girl, you would totally go all Valiant Protector on her and be upset on her behalf." "But Jessica, it's FOSTER. And he did it to YOU. So c'mon, that makes it funny!"

Oh brother. Well, relatively soon I did calm down and while I do not excuse Foster's behavior that night even now, I do recognize that something that bizarre would only happen to me and that it makes for a pretty crazy story. It also happens to be the most action I've ever gotten from a boy.

See? I told you it was sad. (and also a little hilarious.)

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