First Boyfriend: Darin. From kindergarten to second grade we were quite an item. Apparently, he found my bowl cut to be quite sexy, but what does a five year old really know?
First Pet: Tigger. A very unattractive female calico. She was a stray who arrived with “baggage”. After the second litter of kittens, she was taken to the shelter. Ironic, my mother became a family planning nurse years later.
First Wheels: Fifteen year old go cart. Originally my brother’s, then sister’s, then mine. By the time it reached me it had a new bottom welded on, fifth or maybe sixth clutch. After me, it had a new axle. After I got my license, I had a VW Beetle.
First Kiss: See First boyfriend above.
First Alcohol: I don’t remember how old I was, but I’m pretty sure my sister was the supplier.
First Experience with Harassment: Age sixteen. First real part-time job. Sadly not the only occurrence on my resumé .
First Concert: Chicago, 1984.
First Date: Seventeen. I don’t actually remember his name. It was a fix-up and he was a nice guy, just not my type.
FIrst Cassette: Cyndi Lauper, She’s So Unusual. At least the first purchase with my allowance.
First Job: I tended horses, and did odd chores for neighbor when I was fourteen.
First Trip to the Emergency Room: I was three or four and broke out in a rash after a Mr Bubble Bath. My grandmother freaked and took me to the hospital. I haven’t been back since, due to my own stupidity. Super glue and painter’s tape solve numerous problems.
First Time I Felt Like an Adult Took Me Seriously: I was maybe 23, and my former high school art teacher confided in about her husbands affair. It felt heavy.
First Time I Felt Apart of Something Larger than Myself: Six week study abroad program in my final year of college. Sixty people I didn’t know, a culture barrier, and copious amounts of alcohol can do wonders for a person’s self esteem.
First Time I knew I wasn’t Like Others: Twenty years ago when my brother pulled me aside the week before his wedding and “coached” me in the art of dressing more conservatively, wearing make-up, and blending in with the mainstream, so I could hang out with the cool kids. To each their own.
First Wreck: Sixteen. I put my mother’s station wagon in a ditch on a dirt road. Minor damage to the car. No damage to me. My rescuers were to inebriated roofers. Nice.
First Airplane Ride Atlanta to Davenport, Iowa to see my nephew.
First Pair of Come Fuck Me Shoes: Yeah, like I could walk in those…
First Time I Swore in front of my Mother: Age four or five. I didn’t really understand what I said, I was mostly repeating what I had heard from my older siblings. I said something about not wanting to clean my damn room.
First Trip West: SanDiego. My husband and I had been dating for six months. It might seem ordinary, but at the time it opened up a new world of traveling the world. I still enjoy CA.
First Time I Felt like a Grown Up: Still waiting.


First Comment!
I had a big blue bike that must have been my sisters. The day I learned to ride it was spent crashing into the telephone pole at the bottom of the driveway and trying to turn around before the steep hill on our street took me away, rather like trying to avoid a waterfall as you float downstream without a paddle.
I remember getting in so much trouble for saying “Fuck” when my brother was pinning me down in the living room before dinner time (my mother didn’t hear, he ratted on me). But, I swear to this day, I was only starting to say “For Goodness Sake” and then decided that was too much for the amount of wind I had left and resorted to grunting, “ugh.”
oooh – my first car was a ’74 beetle – a gold bug (a superbeetle with gold paint, gold rims, and a sunroof – w/california emissions)
my first wreck was in a ditch on a dirt road too (not in the beetle, though).
meno, touché
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De, oooh the accidental f-bomb. I don’t think I’ve ever used that word when I didn’t mean it.
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Bob, nice ride. Mine was a 69 complete with electrical gremlins. Dirt roads are just trouble.
I had a ’69 VW bus (and a ’71, too.) I miss them all mightily.
Ooooh, my first car was a red ’69 beetle. I bought it for $800 from my future dead father-in-law.
I’m jealous of your non-existent hospital record.
first car was a 79 fiat spider – convertible. At 18, that was definitely a fun car till it broke down, even though the steering was manual and it frequently died on uphill inclines, yikes! But you know, it also caught the eyes of a lot of the guys.
maggie, first cars have their share of internal demons. My gas pedal once got stuck driving downtown.