Sunday, May 13, 2012

May 13

This is a small picture, so I don't know if you can see it, but.... there's TOILET PAPER on that giant pine tree at the golf course.


I went on my walk this morning before church (since we're in the triple digits, I figured I may as well take a stroll at the crack of dawn vs. once the sun has had time to rise... walking a mile in 90 degrees is a whale of a lot better than it is at 105) and when I saw that some hooligan kids had ignored the "Workers Only" signs posted and jumped the fence, just to TP the trees at the golf course, I laughed. Out. Loud. I laughed out loud. (And then I totally jaywalked - across traffic - to get to the other side of the street so I could take a picture.)

Why? Because this is how I spent my youth. Growing up in a small town without so much as a roller rink to keep us busy (darn the Roller King for closing its doors in the late 80's, anyway!), we did a lot of toilet papering.

I'm not kidding.

I toilet papered boys' (yeah, multiple) houses to ask them to dances. Boys TP'd me to tell me they liked me. True story: On my first date of all time, the four of us (Diana, Scott, Charlie and I) left the dance early to go TP our band teacher's house. (Don't worry. It wasn't a malicious TP job. Murph was in the house, watching us and actually yelled out advise or correction/counsel on how we could do a better job.)

Now, if we were going to talk about malicious TP jobs, I'd tell you about how Travis Cartwright saved every dime he made for months, just to spend it on over 300 rolls of toilet paper that he carted over to Greg Sheppard's house in the middle of the night. (I say "carted", because I don't know what the actual term would be. Travis didn't have a car, so he hooked up a trailer of sorts (if I'm remembering right, his trailer had its roots in a little red wagon) to his 4 wheeler and then took mulitple trips on the back roads - in the middle of the night - to get several cases of toilet paper to Greg's house.) That TP job was a thing of beauty. I mean, he covered literally acres with toilet paper. The house, the trees, the fence, the grounds... It was awesome. (I promised Travis I'd never tell that it was him, but I figure it's been 20 years. That should be long enough for Mr. Sheppard to have forgiven that TP massacre.)

Or... here's another funny TP story. Once, we TP'd the Crowther's house with PINK toilet paper. (This was a household of boys. No daughters. They had three sons and a nephew living with them.) They had a sweet front porch that made for some fun decorating. ... We threw the pink TP over the rafters to create a faux curtain of toilet paper, and then tied the "curtain" into sections with big, fat, toilet paper ribbon bows. It was beautiful. Literally, beautiful. ... I could not have been more proud of that job. -- Until Monday, at school, when Lance (the nephew) told us that Uncle Larry had made them take down the TP and put it in a bag in the bathroom so they could use it. ... Yes, you read that right. Those boys had to actually use the pink TP that we'd decorated their yard with. (I don't recall ever TPing the Crowthers after that.)

I tell you, TPing was a rite of passage in my hometown, and Diana and I were the absolute queens. We had a standing date at our English teacher's house on either Tuesday or Thursday every week our Junior year. (I only wish I were kidding when I tell you that she gave me a "soaping kit" for my birthday when I turned 16. It had toilet paper, soap, corn flakes, forks, vaseline (don't ask), colored chalk and all manner of other evil substances in it. ... It's still one of my favorite birthday presents to date.)

So... this post was probably a bit of an over-share. Many of you (including my mother) were probably not aware that I had such an ill-spent youth. But now you know. I totally did.

Ahhhhh.... Toilet paper. It's not just for the bathroom. (Just cracked myself up. Sorry, Mom!)

Gosh, that was a fun little trip down memory lane. Thanks for coming with.