Sunday, May 17, 2009

stalkbook


Aw. I just friended an old friend. A school friend I used to love with a warm, admiring, sisterly delight.

And obviously through his page, I've just seen the faces of various other people I knew in school (I've kept up with feckin no-one really, considering the smallness of the world I live in). So right now I'm filled with a huge rush of the warm fuzzies, looking at the hardly aged faces of all these people I used to know and like and esteem, and love.


And even getting teary, looking at the photos of those faces then, impossibly fresh and unwritten.


I hated school, really, but the good thing was the friendship. It was co-ed obviously, and we had such fun, good clean nipple crippling fun. Ha. We learned to communicate with each other and laugh together and how to be friends. How to be pyhsically comfortable with each other. It was great, there was so much laughter. Even in our relatively dysfunctional class from broken and unhappy homes, we had a laugh.



I wish them all so well. Frosties and the Den and Pearl Jam and Home and Away. Ah, sigh.

15 comments:

Ms. Moon said...

I am still close friends with one or two of my old classmates. The rest? Ah. I'm sorry. I don't care.

Jo said...

Well, the thing is, there were only 30 people in my class, 60 in my year.

And there were lots of nice people. And we spent 5 years together. There were lots of boring people too, and farmers' kids who were really just wanting to get back to the farm - and it's telling that not that many of my friendships lasted long after school. But it's bonding, the school thing.

It's no big deal, the nostalgia, just... well, just that. I have many soft spots though.

Anonymous said...

What is "nipple crippling fun"?

Sounds like I went to the wrong school.

Jo said...

It actually wasn't that fun. Nipple Cripples, now more commonly known as Purple Nurples. Ow! Though I think I managed to escape, we had to convince Daniel it might give Vicki breast cancer to get him to stop.

I love how it only takes the mention of a breast to get you out of the wood work, Tinman. ;)

Anonymous said...

Ah, nipple cripples.

The cause of my first ever sexual harrassment briefing at the tender age of 9. I have the warning letter to my parents framed somewhere.

"We suggest you get him some counselling..."

Boring, standard stuff, but sentimental all the same.

Martin said...

Frosties, oh the flashbacks.

Pulling a pack of those out of your too-tight uniformed pants pockets was a sure fire way to get girls swarming.

Jo said...

You know, it might still be.

Not little girls, I don't mean, just to be clear.

Oh dear.

Apparent;y they had some carcinogenic component. You can taste it, can't you, that toxic tang.

Martin said...

Yes, delicious.

I can just see myself standing on main street with a few other goms, trying to act cool with our smelly bags, spots and oily unflatteringly long hair.

How I ever scored is beyond me.

Jo said...

But who did you score? Smelly bags with spots, maybe :)

Martin said...

Now that you mention it, my success was very limited.

In a non-existant kind of way.

Jo said...

Ah, we were most of us the same.

Martin said...

Ill fitting hired suits, puking on busses, pulp fiction.

morgor said...

oh man, frosties.

and meanies.

mmmm poisonous.

Jo said...

Hee. Poor Morgor. I wish you could have gone to a school with girls in.

morgor said...

me too :)