07 March 2004 | 9:23 p.m.
That girl is my polar opposite

Whew! I am alive today but not by much. Hungover...very hungover. I'm still trying to piece together last night and when I do I will post it. Good fun.

I�ll just put it all out on the table.

1969
I was conceived in the summer of �69. My dad was cheating on my mom at the time with some woman named Dianne that he used to bring to the house when my mom was out but my siblings got to meet her.

1970
8 1/2 months later, I was born on a military base in California and was very sick. I didn�t get to go home for a few weeks.

I was born with epilepsy. It's genetic.

1971
When I was a year old, we moved to Keflavik Iceland. Great place to live except for the seagulls that thought I was a little tasty morsel to torment. If I was in the front yard playing by myself, they would swoop down and clip me with their wings. Yes, I can�t stand birds especially seagulls � evil bastards.

1973
I was weened off phenobarbitol (epilepsy medication) and was luckily seizure-free for 17 years.

1974
I jumped off the fountain at Trafalgar Square and landed on the neck of a pigeon. My dad picked up the dead bird and threw it in the trash. It's my form of Pigeon Population Management - nasty birds.

1975
When I was 5, we moved back to California just before I started kindergarten (see picture above) at a private Catholic school. My family got a white German shepherd named Lady. Lady loved me and I was deathly afraid of her. We got rid of her and I picked out a cute black fur ball (a poodle schnauzer mix). She was already named Snoopy and so we kept her name. Snoopy was my dog for the next 15 years.

1976
I got a baby sister, with a really long name that I couldn�t remember for the life of me at the time. It was a mouthful for a 5 year old. Her middle name is Vir-ginh-ni-ah, a bit long and complicated.

Laura Micik and I figured out that if we feed our dogs crayons they will have pretty colored poop! Then we started playing with snails. We did all the fun stuff with salt but we would also let them crawl up our arms. It grosses me out now but it didn't at the time.

1977
We moved in the middle of 1st grade to Colorado.

Enter Denver
I finished 1st grade at another private Catholic school in the Montebello area. I hated that school. The girls threw rocks at me and called me fat Kalee. I don't think I was a fat kid.

I spent my first summer at my grandparent's house in Ca�on City Colorado. I spent every summer there until 1982. In the morning, it was my job to pick the blackberries, help my grandpa irrigate the garden, hoe weeds, and feed the kitties. In the afternoons I helped my grandma freeze and can vegetables and fruits that we picked that morning. Some days I would help my grandpa make dill pickles, wine, beer, and ice cream. I also had to dust the phonograph collection once a week. Yes, a phonograph collection, you know the old wind-up cylindrical record players. My favorite was the Edison Multiphone (the original jukebox). The collection was in a museum in Cripple Creek Colorado before it was in his basement.

I started a new Catholic school in 2nd grade. I was so nervous that my classmates might not like me that I puked in the hallway in front of everyone on the first day. It was a grand first impression. I remember I had orange juice and oatmeal for breakfast. Orange lumpy puke�ew!

This is about the same time my dad started having another affair. Neat. This time it was with my Aunt Judy (my mother�s brother�s wife). That�s when the pots and pans started flying in the house.

1979
My dad was retiring from USAF and so my parents decided to by a house in south Denver. We moved and I commuted for the rest of the school year. Summer came and I was getting ready to go into 4th grade and my first public school! Just before school started, my dad moved out and the fighting stopped.

Public school was a shock. I had never heard any cuss words before. I didn�t know what Nikes, Adidas, and Izod were. I didn�t know I needed a closet full of clothes. I was used to wearing a uniform. My first week a boy asked me to go with him and my response was, �where?� I had no clue he wanted us to go steady. Pfft. I was in a strange land.

1980
I had my birthday party at Skate City.

1982
I only saw my dad about once a year until I was 12 or so and then I had to start visiting with him every Friday night. That really conflicted with my teenage social schedule. At the time, I had no idea that I had to start seeing him again because he started paying child support again. My mother had 3 jobs to support 5 kids for 4 years and didn�t get a dime from the ass during that time. I think my grandparents kicked in some money here and there too.

1983
I was 13 and was in love with Tristan. He was the only punk rock boy at my junior high school. The mohawk, attitude, camo pants and big boots killed me! One of my sisters was in college and bringing home all kinds of super cool mixed tapes of this new wave and punk rock stuff. That was it for me; my love of music began.

1984
A friend sideswiped me when we were riding our bikes to the mall in 9th grade. I broke my right leg (tibia, tri-plane fracture) and foot (2nd metatarsal). It put me in the hospital for a week. My doctor wanted to keep me in for observation for so long because the break was bad enough that we had to wait to see if was going to go back together without the help of metal rods. I went through 5 casts that week because of all the swelling issues I was having. Three months later, I was cast free!

1985
I got my first job working in a bakery. That's where my love of fountain Cherry Coke got started.

1986
In 10th grade, my dad remarried. He married Aunt Judy and they bought a house together. She had custody of her two sons. That marriage made her two sons my stepbrothers but yet they are also my cousins. Ick. Jerry Springer anyone?

My high school years were ok. I became friends with people that are still my best friends today. We did our fair share of booze and drugs (love the speed). We all wore a lot of black and went to as many shows and concerts as we could afford. If I had to do high school all over again I would fuck-off studying and have more fun. I was the only one of my three best friends to graduate from high school. My mom was the reason that I stuck with it. The woman is scary. I was petrified of her and her crazy lady rants. We later found out that she was scary because her estrogen replacement dosage was too low after her hysterectomy.

1987
Jeanne killed herself.

We went to The Cheap TV Repair Shop and had the hippie guys go buy us a liter of cheap vodka and then we got high with them. We left. Tried to get a ride up the hill to Cafe 13 but got in a fight instead. They thought we were flipping them off as they drove by. My middle finger looks nothing like my thumb. Those dumb skinhead bitches must not have any siblings because we kicked their asses as far as we remember. They couldn't fight for shit.

1988
I stopped getting high, went to college and got my degree. I pretty much stuck to beer and liquor in college. I was normal. I occasionally wore my creepers but I did wear my green Doc Martens almost everyday. Docs were the �in thing� anyway so mine weren�t any different from anyone else�s. Have you seen my green Docs lately? I seem to have misplaced them.

1989
I fractured my arm my sophomore year in college.

1990
If you see Evan please thank him for the mono. College isn�t right without mononucleosis, right?

That summer, while at work, I had a grand mal seizure. I was out for 7 minutes. That seizure killed more brain cells than any drugs ever have.

I had an allergic reaction to Dilantin (a seizure medication) and was put back on phenobarbitol for the rest of my life.

In October I had to put Snoopy to sleep.

Aunt Marilyn died

I was hit by a drunk driver at 55mph. It eventually caused my L4-L5 disc to herniate. That hurt like a bitch.

1991
I turned 21 and sent my dad a letter. The letter essentially told him to go to hell. I gave him all the anger I had towards him all those years in one letter. I haven't had contact with him since then.

I dislocated my sacro-iliac. I fell off my bike on the way to organic chemistry lab.

1992
Steve! Steve! the Mohawk Man died. He had the coolest carpeted Ford El Camino.

1993
I worked in the cubicle world for ten years before I was laid off last year and I refuse to go back. It was hell. Part of that time, I was a phone monkey for a few mutual fund companies. I try to be nice to the phone monkeys but some are just rude ignorant people.

1994
Little Jason died.

I almost forgot to add the part where my dad is a pedophile. He is sick. He didn't touch me (that I know of) but really fucked up my older siblings.

That�s everything except for friends, boys, births, weddings, and concerts. Those are much much much better memories. I just can't condense them to two sentences apiece. They deserve more credit than that. Most are already in the written diaries I've had since I was in 4th grade.

Wait, I can�t forget the cigarettes. I love nicotine. Good stuff. I miss them but my asthma doesn�t.

Please let me know if you read this entire entry. It might just be my longest one.

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