Since
I was a child I have lived in two extremes. I either forget
everything you say instantly or I can't keep a secret. The most
common one is names. The moment you tell me your name, or even the
moment you say “hello my name is.....” my brain shoots off in
different directions. Basically, if you introduce yourself, don't
expect me to remember your name- that's just how it is. Sometimes,
you will tell me an important story, probably hoping and praying I
don't say anything to anyone, meanwhile I have forgotten it the
moment you tell me. Overall, I either listen way too closely or not
at all. For example, in high school my mother was lecturing me on
grades/computer/boys/life or something that I didn't feel like
listening to. I put on what I call my “listening face” in which I
nod appropriately and say “yeah” and “for sure” at the right
times. However, I had just begin practicing it and didn't know how to
not make my eyes glaze over. My mother caught on and blurted “KELLY!
Are you listening to me?” So of course I lied and said I was. She
said “what did I just say then?” Touche mother, touche.
On
the other hand sometimes I can't keep my damn mouth shut. I have a
few theories on this. One of which is that the more I like someone,
the more I want them to like me, meaning my filter comes off and I
say anything and everything hoping to strike up a conversation and
that they stop and think “well, that Kelly, she sure is
“clever/funny/amazing/gorgeous/model/witty/insert amazing
compliment here.” The end result usually makes me sound like that
time Britney Spears got wicked stoned and K. Fed was there to film
it. I start sentences in the middle of a thought and bring up
thoughts, stories and ideas that only have context to me.
New,
funny, interesting people excite me to the point that things come out
like word vomit in an attempt to make a connection to them. One time
I was just hanging out with a guy I was super into. We were just
laying around not saying anything and just enjoying each other's
company. As usual, I was immersed in my thoughts about yummy food.
Rather than keep this to myself, I wanted him to know just how
amazing this thought was and I decided to express myself. I didn't
even give the poor guy any intro into my story- I just started in,
“This one time, I was in Studio City and had this amazing grilled
cheese that had all these different kinds of cheeses in it and it had
truffles. It was so good.” He looked at me and said “interesting
story, Kelly.” Damn it. To him, it was out of nowhere and made no
sense and was completely out of context. To me, it all made sense. I
had been thinking about it for about a minute or so and was a
legitimately interesting topic. In my mind we would have a lengthy
discussion about food and then go eat something.
My
memory is involuntarily selective. I cannot for the life of you tell
you what I studied 3 hours ago, but I can tell you the most random,
useless facts that for some reason stick with me. I can remember the
lyrics to hundreds of songs, tell you the year and the album on which
they came out. I can tell you what I ordered at that one restaurant
that one time you and I went out on that one night last year. None of
which is going to help me on the exam I have tomorrow.
My
mind and inopportune timing have gotten me into trouble numerous
times. If there is one thing I do not have a knack for, it is timing
with the exception of having amazingly talented comedic timing (hint
hint to the SNL execs that are most definitely reading this right
now).
By
the end of 2nd grade the principal had called in my parents with a
laundry list of the things that I had said that they were concerned
with, but lets be honest, they were more than likely amuse....am I
right?
At
about the age of 7 I learned about sex for the first time. I
remember it very clearly. My mother, brother, and I were on a car
ride from some place I don't remember. I had the front seat because I
was the prettiest little girl that ever was. We were all listening to
Dr. Laura. For those of you who don't know or remember Dr. Laura, she
had a radio show where people with all sorts of irrelevant yet
entertaining life drama would call in and get advice. She was what
many people referred to as a “bitch,” but really, she was just
honest. To Dr. Laura's credit, she had the credentials. She had a
license to practice therapy and obtained training in Marriage and
Family Therapy. Little known fact, she received a bachelors degree in
“Take No Shit From Anyoneology.” She's like a less senile Judge
Judy.
So
we are all sitting in the car, listening to the heavenly advice of
Dr. Laura when the topic of a pregnant teen came up. Wanting to be
part of the conversation happening, I blurt out “well you know
mommy, she shouldn't have kissed that boy so much. Then she wouldn't
be pregnant.” Lets just all marvel at that adorable ignorance. I am
at that age where I still think you get pregnant by kissing. I am
also at that age where I have zero clues about what happens when
giving birth. How does it get there? I still had the idea that the
baby held up shop in the stomach or something, or built its own
little house out of connective tissue elsewhere in the body. Fagedda
bout asking me what happens when the baby has to come out of there-
which hole it came out of was a complete mystery at this point.
Stunned
by this ignorance, my mom broke it down for me- every detail. I
didn't know whether to be disgusted or interested. I chose
interested, and impressed with my knowledge, I went to school
incredibly excited. With a smug look on my face I blurted out ”Guess
what I learned!?” I informed all of my friends of my new found
knowledge. The faint at heart ran off. The perverted made me retell
the tale in all its gruesome (well what my 8 y/o brain saw as
gruesome) detail. Although this did not end in a trip to the office,
it provides an example of the floodgates that were my mouth.
One
time, in the second grade I had gotten to school early and decided to
play RunGuy out on the basketball courts. I had just gotten the pack
together for our morning huddle when these assholes came over to pick
on me. I'd been having troubles with douche bags like this for a
while and had asked my grandmother what to do. She told me to tell
them to “damn their filthy souls to hell.” More than likely she
didn't expect me to say that. She probably say that in the way that
you tell your friend “do it! Pour your heart out and tell him
EXACTLY how you feel.” So that day I'd had it. That morning's
huddle was VERY important and they were fucking it up, so I turn to
them and say “Damn your filthy soul to hell!” The look of pure
shock on their faces as they reacted to what this tiny, much younger
kid just hurled at them was priceless. What do you say to someone who
says that to you? What do you say to a 7 year old that says that to
you? There is no comeback to that. Trip #1. As I side note, I still
tell that to people when they piss me off. It's a great fight ender.
One
particularly cold day, I calmly turned to my teacher and informed her
that I was in fact, “freezing my balls off.” In my defense, I had
heard by brother say the same damn thing. It was my understanding
that “balls” meant eyeballs. So, to me, I was saying that I was
freezing my eyeballs off. I imagined being so cold that your eyes
were bulging out of your head and they were frozen with little ice
crystals on them and......IT MADE SENSE TO ME AT THE TIME OKAY?? Trip
numero deux.
On
another cold day, I felt so cold that I could be made of stone. So, I
walked up to my teacher, and struck a hilarious pose in which I was
frozen mid step and blurted ‘Look teacher, I’M STONED!” Again,
in my defense, I meant that I was so cold that I was made of stone. I
did not mean that I had just smoked a marijuana cigarette of sorts. I
don't recall the look on the teacher's face, but I imagine it was a
look of shock and amusement. Trip 3.
I
remember as a kid that DARE was quite prevalent, and they decided to
make a trip to my school. That's right, the celebrities of DARE came
MY school. Be. Jealous. They talked about drugs, cigarettes, alcohol
and how if you do them, even once, you either do irreversible damage
to your body or you die....or both. The moment they brought up beer,
my little 7 year old brain made a connection. Beer? My daddy drinks
beer. Desperate to make a connection with the presenters I knew I had
to say something. With great enthusiasm and in front of the entire
school, I informed everyone that “my daddy drinks beer.” Trip 4
There
are several take aways from this story. One- If I am dating you, let
me remind you that I am not in fact, a Stoner Britney Spears. If I
bring up the most minute, random nonsensical point, take it as a
compliment and humor me by turning my half thought into a full
conversation.
Two-
I have a talk now, think later attitude. Just how it is. Don't like
it? DAMN YOUR FILTHY SOUL TO HELL!
Three-
My family still feels the need to lead with the precursory “don't
go tellin' this to blah blah blah,” and I always argue it and scoff
at them. Why on earth would you think that I would EVER do that? Then
I remember the above stories.
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