Before I start my story I’ll give you a little background on my friend Tallulah.
I’ve known that there was a Tallulah walking the earth since I was five years old and we started kindergarten together. We rode the same bus. Well, to be more specific, we rode the same bus until Tallulah quit kindergarten. Yes, she was a kindergarten drop-out but that’s a whole other story.
I guess that I forgot that she existed until we were in 2nd grade. I remember that Tallulah had all her hair sheared off and I thought it was somehow the outcome of her suffering from rheumatic fever (she really did have rheumatic fever). I was sooooo wrong. Her uber-short hair was the result of a rabbit hunting incident gone crazy bad. She rolled off the hill with a head full of burrs and her mother cut off all her hair, stuck a wig on her head, and hid her under the bed. I’m not kidding. Talullah’s father comes from a holy roller religious background and he didn’t want “the baby” to have short hair. Needless to say, that day there was holy roller hell to pay in their house.
In 3rd grade I got to know Tallulah a little better. She shared her Tiger Beat magazines with me one day. She was sooooo cool.
Then a few weeks later I decided she was a show-off and spoiled brat. We had tennis lessons and the instructor told her she had a great backhand and she said something like, “Yes my brother taught me.” Of course, to me she sounded all snooty like she was little Miss High & Mighty…sort of like Blair from The Facts of Life. Here she was with her fabulous 3rd grader backhand and I was playing with a wooden racket that came from Western Auto. In my mind she was an uppity, nine year old bitch.
Then in 4th grade I decided to all out hate her. See she was walking around at lunch holding the hand of my best friend. WTF? Friend stealer…hate you!!!! Go to hell….hate you!!!
Sixth grade was our definitive moment...it was make it or break it time. We were lopped together in what has been documented as our worst year in elementary school. We hated our teacher, Mr. Sheets. I can’t even type his name with out the words ass and hole coming to mind.
Being the ever imaginative children we were we had other names for him….Mr. Shits and Bald Bastard (aka BB). Have I mentioned that Tallulah was a professional curser at a very young age?? I think she got paid by the word. She had a checkbook cover that had “Shit! Overdrawn Again” on the outside and we thought it was hilarious. Here she is an 11 year old kid not only with a checking account but with a fairly obscene checkbook cover. She was cool again!!!
We bonded over the trauma of having a teacher that was a bald bastard and became best friends….way back in 1979…..30 years ago!!!!! Wow I wonder what the 30th anniversary is for best friends??? Let’s see for wedding anniversaries 1st is paper….5th is wood….25 is silver…I guess the 30th for best friends is probably something like toilet paper or granny bloomers.
Over the years we’ve laughed together, cried together, shopped together, lived together, eaten together (many, many times), mourned together, and even thought we were going to die simultaneous Elvis-like deaths (on the toilet that is) after eating some particularly bad chicken parmigiana at a favorite Italian restaurant.
Tallulah is one of a kind. She will lay down her life for you and literally give you the shirt off her back. If you’re a fine looking man she might even throw in her bra and panties. I’ve seen her give and give and give and never expect anything in return. She is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.
Unfortunately, when we were in college Tallulah’s mother died. Over the past 20 years three of us have taken over the role of mother-type figures for her. One is an actual mother and the other two of us are pseudo-mothers whom no one should even trust to take care of a hated pet. We’re a motley crew…that’s for sure and certain!!
Later I’ll tell you a story of a period in time when we three mother hens came together to take care of Tallulah. It was a scary time but somehow it was friggin’ hilarious too. Imagine that…
I’ve known that there was a Tallulah walking the earth since I was five years old and we started kindergarten together. We rode the same bus. Well, to be more specific, we rode the same bus until Tallulah quit kindergarten. Yes, she was a kindergarten drop-out but that’s a whole other story.
I guess that I forgot that she existed until we were in 2nd grade. I remember that Tallulah had all her hair sheared off and I thought it was somehow the outcome of her suffering from rheumatic fever (she really did have rheumatic fever). I was sooooo wrong. Her uber-short hair was the result of a rabbit hunting incident gone crazy bad. She rolled off the hill with a head full of burrs and her mother cut off all her hair, stuck a wig on her head, and hid her under the bed. I’m not kidding. Talullah’s father comes from a holy roller religious background and he didn’t want “the baby” to have short hair. Needless to say, that day there was holy roller hell to pay in their house.
In 3rd grade I got to know Tallulah a little better. She shared her Tiger Beat magazines with me one day. She was sooooo cool.
Then a few weeks later I decided she was a show-off and spoiled brat. We had tennis lessons and the instructor told her she had a great backhand and she said something like, “Yes my brother taught me.” Of course, to me she sounded all snooty like she was little Miss High & Mighty…sort of like Blair from The Facts of Life. Here she was with her fabulous 3rd grader backhand and I was playing with a wooden racket that came from Western Auto. In my mind she was an uppity, nine year old bitch.
Then in 4th grade I decided to all out hate her. See she was walking around at lunch holding the hand of my best friend. WTF? Friend stealer…hate you!!!! Go to hell….hate you!!!
Sixth grade was our definitive moment...it was make it or break it time. We were lopped together in what has been documented as our worst year in elementary school. We hated our teacher, Mr. Sheets. I can’t even type his name with out the words ass and hole coming to mind.
Being the ever imaginative children we were we had other names for him….Mr. Shits and Bald Bastard (aka BB). Have I mentioned that Tallulah was a professional curser at a very young age?? I think she got paid by the word. She had a checkbook cover that had “Shit! Overdrawn Again” on the outside and we thought it was hilarious. Here she is an 11 year old kid not only with a checking account but with a fairly obscene checkbook cover. She was cool again!!!
We bonded over the trauma of having a teacher that was a bald bastard and became best friends….way back in 1979…..30 years ago!!!!! Wow I wonder what the 30th anniversary is for best friends??? Let’s see for wedding anniversaries 1st is paper….5th is wood….25 is silver…I guess the 30th for best friends is probably something like toilet paper or granny bloomers.
Over the years we’ve laughed together, cried together, shopped together, lived together, eaten together (many, many times), mourned together, and even thought we were going to die simultaneous Elvis-like deaths (on the toilet that is) after eating some particularly bad chicken parmigiana at a favorite Italian restaurant.
Tallulah is one of a kind. She will lay down her life for you and literally give you the shirt off her back. If you’re a fine looking man she might even throw in her bra and panties. I’ve seen her give and give and give and never expect anything in return. She is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.
Unfortunately, when we were in college Tallulah’s mother died. Over the past 20 years three of us have taken over the role of mother-type figures for her. One is an actual mother and the other two of us are pseudo-mothers whom no one should even trust to take care of a hated pet. We’re a motley crew…that’s for sure and certain!!
Later I’ll tell you a story of a period in time when we three mother hens came together to take care of Tallulah. It was a scary time but somehow it was friggin’ hilarious too. Imagine that…
Chick out...
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