I worshiped my older sister, almost to a fault. I'd sneak into her room after school and open her little white drawer with the gold bar handle that had all of her Glam Rock God cassette tapes and decide which one I was going to steal that day.
Somehow I would always go for Skid Row - even though I had absolutely NO idea what "18 and Life, you got it ... 18 and Life you knooooow oww woooh" meant ... it did not keep me from blasting it in my teeny tiny ear drums while doing my homework.
Back to where it all began ....
Where what all began, you're probably wondering? Well I'll tell you. This is where my love for the eastern boys and all that is dark, salty, and complicated began.
People who know me - already know what the hell I'm talking about - but for the sake of general public let me humor you.
I like Asian guys ( ooooooh big deal ) [insert rolling of eyes here]
"So the #$@% what?" you might be thinking to yourself, right?
But let me illuminate the grandiose picture here that was and currently is still my issue with this plaguing disorder.
Spinning back to my original story - Sixth Grade Environmental Camp Circa 1991 (I was 12). Up at Lake Cachuma, about 55mi north of my insignificant beach town where I grew up; Asian population 6. This is where the floodgates of my own strange desires began.
Being in the sixth grade and having your older, cooler, Van Halen loving sister as your chaperon/counselor made the week in the weeds at environmental camp seem well worth getting my freshly tri-color laced L.A. Gears dirty for.
I remember our little lincoln log cabin well. Jail like bunk beds seeming only to be able to hold the weight of our little feather pillows, let alone a ritz cracker filled brat.
Normally my obsessive need to be the center of attention would make me to wait to see where most girls would gravitate toward (bunk bed wise), and somehow finagle a reason to switch with whomever seemed the tightest of friends. You see, in my oh-so-socially-overdeveloped little mind, this would force them to potentially go through me to tell each secret or tid-bit from earlier that day - or so I thought? But not this time, I was focused on Sis and where she would tell me (as she did most times) to put my things.
After bunks were chosen we were rushed out to the fiberglass from hell picnic benches so the rules could be laid out. The camp instructors started hurling "Don't go here" "Don't touch this" "Mess hall over here" type instructions whilst most kids heard charlie browns teacher squakings "Waaah wah wah waaaaah wooh waah"
I couldn't pay any attention to what was being spit through the tiny powder blue megaphone ... there were boys all around ... boys boys boys! My stringy platinum blonde hairs were tangling just thinking about them.
Growing up in the smallest beach town ever this side of Socal - I pretty much knew all the boys in my 6th grade class. Mainly because these were the same snot nose idiots who had gone through K-6 with me. However, a ray of hope flashed over me after realizing … intermingled with our school was a private school from up the road. Not only were there 20 new kids mixed in with us ... but they had a little Asian boy! I don't think I had ever seen one up close before to be quite honest. I was mesmerized and completely intrigued, I couldn't stop staring (he probably thought I was nuts ... and I guess I kinda am?)
We all had those annoying paper nametags on - to which I might ad I always wanted to write my own name on, and imagined all sorts of fun names to put on there IE: Barbie, Bionca, or even Abednego... but alas our teachers already pre-wrote them. It was then that I saw the little boy's name tag said something strange?
"Gary" it said ....
I wondered to myself .... Gary? Wait a minute here.
Being that one of my all time favorite childhood story's was "Ricki Tiki Tembo" I was very very disappointed! Regardless, I still couldn't stop staring? I watched what group he went with, which hikes he chose, I was virtually stalking this poor kid just to catch a glimpse of the unknown. Gary had Bieber like blue black hair, thick glasses, knobby little knees, and those tall soccer socks with the three stripes up top. He looked like he was ready to try out for the children’s olymipics.
Around the time we were heading back to our lincoln log I could hear some of the girls snickering back and forth.
"Did you see how Sage picked me for his group?"
"Isn't Chris so cute, I wish he was in my class you're lucky"
I wanted to interject on how well Gary's socks complimented his Nike ensemble ... but I thought I better keep quiet. I was smart, I didn't want anyone else turning their dirty little glitter chipped polished paws toward him. I know – I was obsessed.
My sister led us back into the lincoln log and let us know we needed to get ready to go to bed. She promised to let us tell a scary story if we hurried. I don't think I've ever seen a group of girls get ready for bed so quick in all my life; which was strange to me I hated scary stories? I spent the better portion of my childhood begging my sister to sleep in my room or leave a light on in the hallway so I wouldn't be in the dark. But these nutty pre-teens were volunteering, rushing even, to be scared? Go fig?
So before the stories started my sister went around the room asking which boys we thought were cute. Mandy started off with "I like Chris" then Mary agreed, followed up with Cynthia saying "Jason has that cute blonde curly surfer hair" ... I was last and I didn't want to be left out so I was thinking what titillated compliment I could dig up for little Gary. Little did I know the whole thing was a planned scheme so my sneaky sis could find out who my secret crush was. She had no care in the slightest about who those other twits liked, she was waiting for my answer... and boy was it a doozey!
"I think Gary is cute, I like his smart glasses" I blurted out - then silence
My sister looked at me puzzled, "Who's Gaa . . . " she paused "Oh you mean that little Asian boy?" "Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttttttttttt?", she screamed.
Then came the pouring hysteria of what can only be described as a cross between spitting and shirking slightly resembling laughter. Followed up w/ all the other girls joining in, until the banter was so loud the lights from the neighboring lincoln log cabin turned on.
I interpreted her laughter as an explicit sign that this was obviously not a good choice. So, within a split 12yr old second I was able to blurt out "Oooh Just KIDDING! ... Got Ya!" "oh you silly girls thought I liked Gary" "Oooh Pppaaah shawww!" and then I made up this utterly ricockulous story about how I liked Eli. I liked Eli, and I knew when he helped me make my peanut butter sandwich on the trail that he was the one for me. Apparently I had no PB spreading skills because I was tearing my bread and making Eli a nervous wreck.
I kept up the charade for a matter of literal years - it wasn't until much much later that I figured out I had mistaken my sister's laughter of shock and surprise for disapproval.
This however, never stopped my secret affinity for Asian boys - I just learned to hide it well.
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
Saturday, April 18, 2015
My Yaya - Part Un
Yaya was my first real boyfriend.
My parents had some friends from church, the McFartheads. The McFartheads then had friends that came to visit them one summer from NorCal.
If I had to guess I'd say it was around 93' because I remember right before high school I was consumed with getting my braces off. My new found, non-erector-set, porcelain look became a level of confidence I really didn't need at the unripened age of 14.
The new family brought their three kids with them, one of whom happened to be Yaya; a half-n-half breed of buck I couldn't take my eyes off of. Two years older than me, big brown cow eyes, long curly hair, full pouty lips, and this one crooked tooth that I just couldn't etch out of my memory. I thought he was beautiful!
I begged mom to invite the McFartheads over for dinner so they would be forced to bring their visiting trove of guests along with my Adonis. I'm still never really sure why mom would give in to so many of my hairbrained schemes - but she went right along with this one hook line and stinker (me).
Mom LOVED planning parties, or having people over at the house from church. Mind you, these aren't the type of parties you're probably picturing, or would ever want to go to. It was more like people from church and their bratty kids coming over for dinner or a bbq - no hard alcohol except for the occasional glass of my dad's famous box wine he was so fond of; or one of his Moosehead's. My dad could give Maggy Griffen a run for her money with the Franzia for sure!
So the McFartheads were coming over along with Yaya and his family for a bbq at my house. Stressed and excited - one tiny bouncing ball of blonde nerves! Yaya was coming to MY house, and he was coming tonight!
I wracked my little brain on what I would wear. This was no mere task - I had been coveting the title of Fashionista since birth! I remember my sister keeping copies of Elle, W, and Cosmo all over her room and taking them to the beach with us all summer. Clothes, shoes, jewelry, hand bags, you name it - I wanted it ... and I wanted it all to match! I guess you could definitely say I was a spoiled brat in that department.
Growing up I would purposly pick fights with mom just so she would take me shopping after. Of course we never shopped top designers - in fact, I was such a label whore at a young age ... when mom wouldn't pay for the brands I wanted I would walk to the local thrift to find all the sad fugly clothes with labels no one wanted, take the labels off of them, and sew them back on new clothes. I was a resourceful little $hit!
- back to my original story - (sorry sometimes I will have to go off on little tangents to help the main ideas come across more clearly. Just saying I was obsessed w/ fashion from a young age doesn't quite give the picture of the insanity that is me prying "Guess?" triangle tags off a pair of mustard stone washed jeans and hot gluing it to my new family bargain center jean jacket.)
So the McFartheads, my family, and Yaya's family were all at my parents house for dinner. Immediately I turned into such an attentive little poop, asking "Would you like something to drink?" "Can I get anyone a napkin?" you'd think I was applying for the Emily Post Triatholon?
I overheard Mrs. McFart say they were going to take the kids to Magic Mountain and I think I had a mini heart attack. I loved rollercoasters ... I loved Yaya ... could the two things converge? The thought of being able to sit next to Yaya and accidently brush hands made me want to hump my tv remote harder that night than normal. (yes I had a little mini tv in my room, and sometimes I could get skinimax all green squiggly, and sometimes .... I'd hump the remote)
The plan was set into motion and it became clearer and clearer that we would all be going to Magic Mountain together that Saturday. I had just the outfit too! I talked to Yaya a little here and there, tossed my hair, and pretended I was Kelly from 90210 flirting with Brandon... all the normal things a mindless 14yr old would do. I had never really had a boyfriend and was dying to see what it was all about.
It was the morning of and we were all paired perfectly - Yaya and I, my sister and her bf, and Yaya's sister and their cousin. My hopes and dreams of being his coaster partner were becoming a reality. The day passed and being coaster partners soon turned into conveniently standing closer to each other in line, which then turned into .... "Hey maybe we should go on Viper again, hey we'll meet you guys back after lunch" We ditched everyone else and went off on our own. Holding hands was the extent of our shananagans that day though.
- sorry to disappoint -
but I was brought up strict jesus freak from my parents; and the thought of doing anything remotely (what I considered) BAD [such a total joke to me now] made me fear I might spontaneously combust. It's funny, I wasn't really scared for the sake of jesus ... I was more worried I'd have to either:
A.) Listen to mom have Bitchfest 94' and hit me with one of my plastic hangers
or worse
B.) Not be allowed to see Yaya again because my parents locked me in my tower with a bible and some
speghetti.
Now remember 94 wasn't the age of the smart phone. We didn't have cell phones and ipoops to do video chat with. Believe it or not, Yaya took my address and phone number down and we actually did the unthinkable! We wrote each other letters with fun cartoons and I drew retarded pictures and we would talk on the phone for hours every night. Never really talking about much really other than what we did that day, which for a jdub 9th grader ... wasn't that exciting.
My parents and the McFartheads got this bee in their bonnet about going to NorCal before the summer ended to go to the lake. Yaya's family had arranged for us all to stay at their house. . . . . and so the summer of the monkeys had begun for me in yet so many ways.
My parents had some friends from church, the McFartheads. The McFartheads then had friends that came to visit them one summer from NorCal.
If I had to guess I'd say it was around 93' because I remember right before high school I was consumed with getting my braces off. My new found, non-erector-set, porcelain look became a level of confidence I really didn't need at the unripened age of 14.
The new family brought their three kids with them, one of whom happened to be Yaya; a half-n-half breed of buck I couldn't take my eyes off of. Two years older than me, big brown cow eyes, long curly hair, full pouty lips, and this one crooked tooth that I just couldn't etch out of my memory. I thought he was beautiful!
I begged mom to invite the McFartheads over for dinner so they would be forced to bring their visiting trove of guests along with my Adonis. I'm still never really sure why mom would give in to so many of my hairbrained schemes - but she went right along with this one hook line and stinker (me).
Mom LOVED planning parties, or having people over at the house from church. Mind you, these aren't the type of parties you're probably picturing, or would ever want to go to. It was more like people from church and their bratty kids coming over for dinner or a bbq - no hard alcohol except for the occasional glass of my dad's famous box wine he was so fond of; or one of his Moosehead's. My dad could give Maggy Griffen a run for her money with the Franzia for sure!
So the McFartheads were coming over along with Yaya and his family for a bbq at my house. Stressed and excited - one tiny bouncing ball of blonde nerves! Yaya was coming to MY house, and he was coming tonight!
I wracked my little brain on what I would wear. This was no mere task - I had been coveting the title of Fashionista since birth! I remember my sister keeping copies of Elle, W, and Cosmo all over her room and taking them to the beach with us all summer. Clothes, shoes, jewelry, hand bags, you name it - I wanted it ... and I wanted it all to match! I guess you could definitely say I was a spoiled brat in that department.
Growing up I would purposly pick fights with mom just so she would take me shopping after. Of course we never shopped top designers - in fact, I was such a label whore at a young age ... when mom wouldn't pay for the brands I wanted I would walk to the local thrift to find all the sad fugly clothes with labels no one wanted, take the labels off of them, and sew them back on new clothes. I was a resourceful little $hit!
- back to my original story - (sorry sometimes I will have to go off on little tangents to help the main ideas come across more clearly. Just saying I was obsessed w/ fashion from a young age doesn't quite give the picture of the insanity that is me prying "Guess?" triangle tags off a pair of mustard stone washed jeans and hot gluing it to my new family bargain center jean jacket.)
So the McFartheads, my family, and Yaya's family were all at my parents house for dinner. Immediately I turned into such an attentive little poop, asking "Would you like something to drink?" "Can I get anyone a napkin?" you'd think I was applying for the Emily Post Triatholon?
I overheard Mrs. McFart say they were going to take the kids to Magic Mountain and I think I had a mini heart attack. I loved rollercoasters ... I loved Yaya ... could the two things converge? The thought of being able to sit next to Yaya and accidently brush hands made me want to hump my tv remote harder that night than normal. (yes I had a little mini tv in my room, and sometimes I could get skinimax all green squiggly, and sometimes .... I'd hump the remote)
The plan was set into motion and it became clearer and clearer that we would all be going to Magic Mountain together that Saturday. I had just the outfit too! I talked to Yaya a little here and there, tossed my hair, and pretended I was Kelly from 90210 flirting with Brandon... all the normal things a mindless 14yr old would do. I had never really had a boyfriend and was dying to see what it was all about.
It was the morning of and we were all paired perfectly - Yaya and I, my sister and her bf, and Yaya's sister and their cousin. My hopes and dreams of being his coaster partner were becoming a reality. The day passed and being coaster partners soon turned into conveniently standing closer to each other in line, which then turned into .... "Hey maybe we should go on Viper again, hey we'll meet you guys back after lunch" We ditched everyone else and went off on our own. Holding hands was the extent of our shananagans that day though.
- sorry to disappoint -
but I was brought up strict jesus freak from my parents; and the thought of doing anything remotely (what I considered) BAD [such a total joke to me now] made me fear I might spontaneously combust. It's funny, I wasn't really scared for the sake of jesus ... I was more worried I'd have to either:
A.) Listen to mom have Bitchfest 94' and hit me with one of my plastic hangers
or worse
B.) Not be allowed to see Yaya again because my parents locked me in my tower with a bible and some
speghetti.
Now remember 94 wasn't the age of the smart phone. We didn't have cell phones and ipoops to do video chat with. Believe it or not, Yaya took my address and phone number down and we actually did the unthinkable! We wrote each other letters with fun cartoons and I drew retarded pictures and we would talk on the phone for hours every night. Never really talking about much really other than what we did that day, which for a jdub 9th grader ... wasn't that exciting.
My parents and the McFartheads got this bee in their bonnet about going to NorCal before the summer ended to go to the lake. Yaya's family had arranged for us all to stay at their house. . . . . and so the summer of the monkeys had begun for me in yet so many ways.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Yaya - Part Du (mb)
Yaya and I had been writing letters and calling each other to pass the time until my family came to visit that summer up in Shasta.
I literally BEGGED like a shitzu in heat for mom to buy me my first bikini before we went. Growing up, every summer she would take me to get a new suit, beach towel, and boogie board from Omwigs the local hardware store. I'm sure you're wondering how on earth you could find these things amongst bales of hammers and nails - yet in our teeny quirk of a town, one store would usually take on the hat of three; and in this instance Omwigs was my raspberry beret.
I was tired of being the only girl in my grade wearing a fucking onezie down at Linden (locals beach). Mom being the jesusfreak she was would always argue, 'As Christians We Want to Look Different' and 'Modesty is the Best Policy' - I would just cringe and yell back "Oh I'll look DIFFERENT all right MOM, in fact, I'll look just like Jesus! ...If it was up to you I'd be wearing a bed sheet wrapped around me toga style so no one can see an ounce of FLESH!" She didn't like that, but somehow one desperate attempt from the next scored me my first flowered bikini; and I think that was the turning point of all teenage hormonal hell breaking loose - along with my midriff ;)
The long arduous 13hr drive to Shasta was making my head swarm with all sorts of ideas - schemes rather - on how to get a chance to be alone with Yaya. I watched episode upon episode of 90210 that year, and watching horseface Donna Martin debate so hard over her virginity got my head spinning.
The closest thing to a real wiener I'd ever seen was when I was 8. Sis and I were at her friend Leslie's house. Leslie warned us "Whatever you do, Don't go upstairs!" ... well to a brat like me that was more like a dare than a warning. First thing I did was wait for them to get distracted so I could creep upstairs. BAD IDEA. There, wearing nothing but the illusive birthday suit I heard so much about, was her Dad about 5' from the doorway. I'm not sure who was more traumatized, Me or the 6ft Sasquatch I spotted in full frontal.
Praying Yaya wasn't hairy was not really on my list of things to ask god for that summer- in fact, growing up with the idea that "GOD SEES EVERYTHING YOU DO" wasn't always the easiest thing. I always wondered if my sick desire to see Yaya's chocodilly would somehow ruin my chances to dance with wolves in paradise* ; but at this point I really didn't care. I was tired of my tv remote and looking for action.
Upon arriving at Yaya's all us kids went down to the river to go swimming. It was time to take my day glow daisy bikini out for a spin. Imagine a 1960's VWbug florescent orange with tiny daises all over it - that was my bikini, and I friggin loved it! I was a hot little number of 15 with long blond hair and my string bikini and the round ass of tranny on Haley**, how could he resist?
To my shock Yaya was more obsessed with jumping off the rocks and boulders into the lake than with jumping on me. I figured I better up the anty. The boys were all jumping off a rope swing into the lake. I figured to get him to notice me I better jump. I climbed up the path grabbed the rope and went for it. What I didn't realize was that it was about 20ft up in the air; it took the wind out of me till I hit the water SPLASH!!! I achieved my goal too, Yaya couldn't take his eyes off me. I was so impressed with myself that it took me about 15 actual 'Mississippis' to figure out that upon impact my string bikini had come un-strung.
Mission Accomplished boy oh boy. If I knew that I could have had Yaya's undivided attention that easily I would have flashed him months ago. 'Baby Steps' I thought to myself. . . . . baby steps
Needless to say the rest of that summer was spent with Yaya and I going on "Ice Cream" runs and "Hikes" that would usually end with us making out and dry humping like two gorillas in the mist. I remember driving in his Uncle's Olds one afternoon and opening up the glove box and seeing a bunch of purple Trojans.
In my naivety I said "Who's are those?"
He was quick that Yaya "Oh those must be my Uncle's"
If you knew Yaya's Uncle - it would have seemed completely ludicrous, but not wanting to think anything more about it I just shrugged and giggled. I had no idea Yaya was humping other girls around town outside of his Levis. I think the reality would have killed me.
I was the crowned princess of tease keeping my virginity in tact. I knew most if not ALL of my friends were doing it, but I was petrified. Besides the thought of Yaya's chocodilly poking itself where it took me 3hrs to figure out a tampon goes was not in my plan. I was fine with what little interludes we had.
We would play our version of Super Mario where upon losing Player 1. would set the controller down while Player 2. then had to go on all fours and lean forward to grab the controller that was conveniently placed at the base of the tv, thus allowing Player 1. access to whatever was in front of them. Surprisingly enough I learned that this version of Naughty Nintendo could be played with just about any of the games. This gave new meaning to the term, 'blowing on the cartrige' when the game froze up.
We played a lot of Nintendo that summer - needless to say I still sucked (obvious pun intended)
===================================================================
Footnotes:
*Paradise = something my parents drove into our heads as zygotes in the womb. If you follow the bible and do what Jesus says then you can live forever in paradise with all the wild animals. And you can play with them too - and they won't eat you! (Such a wild thought to a girl of 8 wanting to have a polar bear to ride on complete with pink painted fingernails, a tutu, and diamond tiara!)
**Haley = the only street in town where hookers were known to roam - especially transgendered ones
I literally BEGGED like a shitzu in heat for mom to buy me my first bikini before we went. Growing up, every summer she would take me to get a new suit, beach towel, and boogie board from Omwigs the local hardware store. I'm sure you're wondering how on earth you could find these things amongst bales of hammers and nails - yet in our teeny quirk of a town, one store would usually take on the hat of three; and in this instance Omwigs was my raspberry beret.
I was tired of being the only girl in my grade wearing a fucking onezie down at Linden (locals beach). Mom being the jesusfreak she was would always argue, 'As Christians We Want to Look Different' and 'Modesty is the Best Policy' - I would just cringe and yell back "Oh I'll look DIFFERENT all right MOM, in fact, I'll look just like Jesus! ...If it was up to you I'd be wearing a bed sheet wrapped around me toga style so no one can see an ounce of FLESH!" She didn't like that, but somehow one desperate attempt from the next scored me my first flowered bikini; and I think that was the turning point of all teenage hormonal hell breaking loose - along with my midriff ;)
The long arduous 13hr drive to Shasta was making my head swarm with all sorts of ideas - schemes rather - on how to get a chance to be alone with Yaya. I watched episode upon episode of 90210 that year, and watching horseface Donna Martin debate so hard over her virginity got my head spinning.
The closest thing to a real wiener I'd ever seen was when I was 8. Sis and I were at her friend Leslie's house. Leslie warned us "Whatever you do, Don't go upstairs!" ... well to a brat like me that was more like a dare than a warning. First thing I did was wait for them to get distracted so I could creep upstairs. BAD IDEA. There, wearing nothing but the illusive birthday suit I heard so much about, was her Dad about 5' from the doorway. I'm not sure who was more traumatized, Me or the 6ft Sasquatch I spotted in full frontal.
Praying Yaya wasn't hairy was not really on my list of things to ask god for that summer- in fact, growing up with the idea that "GOD SEES EVERYTHING YOU DO" wasn't always the easiest thing. I always wondered if my sick desire to see Yaya's chocodilly would somehow ruin my chances to dance with wolves in paradise* ; but at this point I really didn't care. I was tired of my tv remote and looking for action.
Upon arriving at Yaya's all us kids went down to the river to go swimming. It was time to take my day glow daisy bikini out for a spin. Imagine a 1960's VWbug florescent orange with tiny daises all over it - that was my bikini, and I friggin loved it! I was a hot little number of 15 with long blond hair and my string bikini and the round ass of tranny on Haley**, how could he resist?
To my shock Yaya was more obsessed with jumping off the rocks and boulders into the lake than with jumping on me. I figured I better up the anty. The boys were all jumping off a rope swing into the lake. I figured to get him to notice me I better jump. I climbed up the path grabbed the rope and went for it. What I didn't realize was that it was about 20ft up in the air; it took the wind out of me till I hit the water SPLASH!!! I achieved my goal too, Yaya couldn't take his eyes off me. I was so impressed with myself that it took me about 15 actual 'Mississippis' to figure out that upon impact my string bikini had come un-strung.
Mission Accomplished boy oh boy. If I knew that I could have had Yaya's undivided attention that easily I would have flashed him months ago. 'Baby Steps' I thought to myself. . . . . baby steps
Needless to say the rest of that summer was spent with Yaya and I going on "Ice Cream" runs and "Hikes" that would usually end with us making out and dry humping like two gorillas in the mist. I remember driving in his Uncle's Olds one afternoon and opening up the glove box and seeing a bunch of purple Trojans.
In my naivety I said "Who's are those?"
He was quick that Yaya "Oh those must be my Uncle's"
If you knew Yaya's Uncle - it would have seemed completely ludicrous, but not wanting to think anything more about it I just shrugged and giggled. I had no idea Yaya was humping other girls around town outside of his Levis. I think the reality would have killed me.
I was the crowned princess of tease keeping my virginity in tact. I knew most if not ALL of my friends were doing it, but I was petrified. Besides the thought of Yaya's chocodilly poking itself where it took me 3hrs to figure out a tampon goes was not in my plan. I was fine with what little interludes we had.
We would play our version of Super Mario where upon losing Player 1. would set the controller down while Player 2. then had to go on all fours and lean forward to grab the controller that was conveniently placed at the base of the tv, thus allowing Player 1. access to whatever was in front of them. Surprisingly enough I learned that this version of Naughty Nintendo could be played with just about any of the games. This gave new meaning to the term, 'blowing on the cartrige' when the game froze up.
We played a lot of Nintendo that summer - needless to say I still sucked (obvious pun intended)
===================================================================
Footnotes:
*Paradise = something my parents drove into our heads as zygotes in the womb. If you follow the bible and do what Jesus says then you can live forever in paradise with all the wild animals. And you can play with them too - and they won't eat you! (Such a wild thought to a girl of 8 wanting to have a polar bear to ride on complete with pink painted fingernails, a tutu, and diamond tiara!)
**Haley = the only street in town where hookers were known to roam - especially transgendered ones
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