So you know how sometimes you and I compare childhoods and our teenage years and what we each were like as individuals and how much we’ve changed or have not changed? You know? Sometimes that’s a thing we do?
Usually the biggest difference we compare is how innocent, nerdy and dull I was compared to you.
Y’know, a crazy night out with my friends consisted of going to Steph’s house to bake cookies and making sure I was home by 9:30pm. Which, I was ALWAYS home by 9:30pm because I was not allowed to start driving until I was at least 17 years old and so one of my parents would have to come pick me up from Steph’s house.
The first time I ever drank to truly drink (as in, not under the supervision of my parents) was about a week before I turned 18 – the age at which I could legally drink in Alberta, Manitoba, and Quebec. But I was not drinking in any of those provinces, nor had I even turned 18 yet. This means I broke the law, Lina.
I was being a rebel.
So I actually wasn’t as innocent and naive, and doe-eyed as we like to say I am. No, I was daring, wild, nuts, a cool kid, even.
And once I started, no one could stop me!
That first time took place in Sauble Beach, but it’s a story for another day. Maybe. Instead, I’d like to share this story of the second or third time I got drunk. Actually, I should clarify: now that I know what being drunk truly means, I can’t honestly say I was really all that drunk in this story I’m about to tell you. But I was new to the whole alcohol thing so I felt I was drunk. And now I let my younger self have that and hold dear to it, because otherwise, I really would have been a terribly boring high schooler.
So the setting: Vic’s house. When: the tail end of grade 12. Who: Tcrew, of course. What: baking cookies and drinking – so a nice little crossover from our innocent days to our more adult days. Why: why the hell not?
I will tell the rest of this story through pictures and captions.
Because I then progressed to this:
So now you have proof that I was also a crazy kid back in my youth.