Atomic Bombshell


Bring It On

March 9th, 2005

The revered 8ZERO8 makes a good point:
“Wait… Didn’t we just hear a story about you being in marching band? You were both?”

While it’s true that band geeks and cheerleaders don’t often mix, least of all in the same human… I’m living proof that it’s not impossible.

If you’ve been lurking for any length of time you should be familiar with not only my Rose Bowl arrest, but also this sad tale. It’s only when you combine the two that you come up with Cheerleading, through an equation that looks a little something like this…

(AuroraBorealis + MotherFromHell + HighSchool)
x (Trauma + Angst + RoseBowlArrest)
= C H E E R L E A D E R

Rule number one of band geekdom is “STEALTH” …And getting arrested in the middle of the opening show at the homecoming game is probably the most flagrant violation you could imagine. Therefore, there was no facing the music-ians after that incident.

Now about the other event… Eventually I confided in my only remaining friend at the time, Julie. She was to be my “last straw” when it comes to female friends. After all the bad experiences I’d had with women, I pretty much gave up trying after this.

She developed a mad crush on my rapist. At the time I was confused and hurt by her response, but now I understand. The birds of a feather theory once again holds true, as (much like my mother) Julie’s father was a violent, abusive jerk.

Let’s review…

Nobody who whines about being raped by the High School stud ends up popular, so I retreated to the world of band and orchestra. Then I got screwed out of band by my mother. Out of options, luckily I was a Junior, and all I had to do was stick it out one more year.

It was the bravest stupid thing I did that year: I walked up to the group of black girls manning the pep squad sign-up table at my ghetto high school and applied for Varsity Cheer. It was to become my way of letting all the hypocrites and assholes know they didn’t win.

For those of you who have seen the movie “Bring it On” – We were the original, unsanitized version of those Compton cheerleaders. Try-outs were a bitch, the girls on the squad were cruel, but I had an edge… Unlike the other token white girls trying out, I could dance.

During a four-year stint I managed to morph from social butterfly, to rape victim, to band geek, to outcast, and then finally to a cheerleader. Looking back, I could have picked a worse direction, like drugs perhaps. I’m glad I had the strength to lift my middle fingers up high and cheer.

Entry Filed under: Time Travel

6 Comments

  • 1. Lewis Moten  |  March 9th, 2005 at 9:35 pm

    I was pretty much a loner. It wasn’t until my Senior year that I started getting involved with extra ciricular activitites. Someone like you would have intimidated me greatly.

    Anyhow, you forgot to mention your religious experiences too.

  • 2. James  |  March 10th, 2005 at 8:55 am

    Sorry to intrude on this particular entry, given the subject matter. But I flew into your site via an inquiry re Wolford Stay-Hips. and incredibly, found an obviously very vibrant young woman who actually admitted her fondness for these. What refined taste! What aesthetic knowingness! What a wonderful surprise for your partner! And what a perfect choice to accompany your new office decor. Ah, to know what goes on behind the closed door.

  • 3. Easy  |  March 11th, 2005 at 1:16 pm

    Sorry, but I don’t believe you. A picture would help…

    No? Ah well. Can’t blame a guy for trying 😉

  • 4. Master Foley  |  March 11th, 2005 at 1:38 pm

    Spirit fingers, yeah.

  • 5. Atomic Bombshell » &hellip  |  October 18th, 2005 at 1:48 pm

    […] I’m gonna go with #2 since I do that instinctively as it is. Once a cheerleader… Besides, I wouldn’t want to make random strangers spontaneously combust. That’s just cruel. […]

  • 6. Atomic Bombshell » &hellip  |  October 29th, 2005 at 9:47 pm

    […] So umm… I’ll be heading in to work on Monday wearing my varsity cheerleading uniform… And I must say, it’s nice to know that I can fit into something I wore at seventeen — Take that, suckers! […]



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