Monday, July 27, 2015

Rachel's Mom vs. Rachel

     It's been a pretty long time since I've had a competition/contest/thing here. As usual, my mom has inspired one, by telling me stories. Here is how this is going to work:


  1. Only people in the United States can enter the contest, because I'm way too poor to ship anything overseas. Sorry! Everyone is welcome to comment, though!
  2. To enter the contest, you must clearly vote by either saying "Rachel is worse" OR "Rachel's mom is worse", followed by your reasoning.
  3. Voting gets you one point. If your comment makes me laugh, you'll get an extra point. If your comment is rude to my mother, you get negative one million points and a pissed off daughter coming at you with a vengeance.
  4. The winner will have a choice from three relevant prizes. (Note: Do NOT click these if you don't want any spoilers on what the stories are related to. Choice one, choice two, choice three.)
  5. The winner will be picked by a random number generator online.
  6. The winner of the contest and the winner of this poll (my mom or myself) will be announced next Wednesday! (Ordering the prize will be done at the end of next week, after I get paid.)


Rachel's Mom
     This is the story of the time that my mom was kicked out of Mexico.

     When my mom was about fifteen, almost sixteen, she lived in New Mexico. Every couple of weeks, she and her friends would go across the boarded too Jaurez, to get shitfaced. Even though she didn't have a license, it was her turn to be the driver, so she wasn't allowed to drink anything alcoholic for the night.

     When they got into the bar, her friend ordered for her (because he spoke Spanish). The drink was a green drink called Poison (the same green that the band Poison uses on their album covers). It was hot so she downed the first one. Apparently, it tasted like incredibly sweet Koolaid. She downed a second one and the friend who ordered for her decided to go to the bar next door to check it out.

     Somehow, this friend bumped into somebody and military training kicked in. The police got involved before anything bad happened, but the entire group were saying, "Let's go! We need to get out of here!" By this time, Momma was on drink number three. It hit her when she turned around, so hard that she stumbled and sprained her ankle. She couldn't walk.

     "No alcohol!"
     "She's drunk!"
     "No alcohol!"
     "She's drunk!"

     The friend picked up my mom but the police started yelling at them. "If she can't walk, I'm arresting her!" The friend put her back down and played it off like they were dating, trying to get her down the street. As soon as they were out of Jaurez city limits, he picked her back up. "Put her down! We will arrest her!" The police yelled. He put her back down and they made it to the bridge to cross over to the United States.

     He picked her back up. "If she can't walk across the border, we are going to arrest her." Said the guard.

     "Fuck you! My fucking ankle hurts and I'm drunk and I'm not fucking supposed to be drunk and he wasn't supposed to get into a fight and I'm trying to leave!" My mom was angry, drunk, and clearly didn't want to walk.

     "GET HER THE FUCK OUT OF MY COUNTRY BEFORE I HAVE HER ARRESTED!" The guard yelled.

     They got her the fuck out of their country before she got arrested...and went back two weeks later. The same guard was on duty and watched them like a hawk. Momma took her turn as driver and ordered water, because no alcohol.


Rachel
     This is the story of the time that I was kicked out of church.

     I actually have no recollection of this because I was two, so this is the story as told to me by my mother (like her story).

     When I was two, my grandma was big on the whole church thing. She used to take my aunt and me with her whenever she went, which my mom was totally okay with. My mom had stayed home to cut the grass, because my dad is a lazy fuck who didn't do it like he promised and they were getting in trouble on the military base for not having it done.

     Since I was a toddler, I went into the nursery Sunday school class thing. At some point, I found a doll. (Sherry, this is the doll that I mentioned in your blog post.) I later named that doll "Baby Girl Jesus", for reasons unknown even to me. My family gave me all kinds of grief for it because "Jesus is a boy" but "that's why she's Baby Girl Jesus". I remember that part, but not the actual story.

     The teacher ended up getting my aunt, during the sermon, who then called my mom in a panic. "Rachel just hit a little girl! You've got to come get us!"

     When my mom strolled into the church, she interrupted the sermon (she interrupted God's word and I'm still the bad one, apparently), wearing holey jeans and covered in cut grass. "Where's Rachel?" The congregation gasped. "I can't believe she's not on fire!" People looked to the sky, expected to see lightening crash down or the ceiling start to cave in. "She's in the nursery. Would you like to join us? We have room in the front row." The pastor/father/preacher asked. "No thank you. I just heard Rachel hit somebody so I'm here to get her."

     My aunt was still with me in the nursery, where I was holding the doll I had found in the church.

     Now here's where we aren't 100% sure what actually happened.

     My aunt had been in an entirely different room when the teacher had gotten her, because I was hitting somebody, but my aunt saw me hit somebody. What that means to us is that I didn't just hit her once (like I originally thought) but I must have gone after this three year old girl to the point that the teachers couldn't control me and then my aunt saw the final punch.

     So, not only did I hit somebody in church, but I kicked the ass of a girl who was a little older than me. We aren't entirely sure why, but we're pretty sure it's because she was trying to take the doll away from me.

     The church gave me the doll and said that I had to leave for the day, but I was welcome back the following week (provided that I wasn't going to assault anyone).

20 comments:

  1. Rachel's mom is worse because she was old enough to know what she was doing. Mexico? Not a good idea unless you're staying at a fancy resort, and even then I wouldn't go. You were just a little girl. I love the idea of Baby Girl Jesus. It's great that you beat up an older kid. You kicked ass when you were two years old!

    Love,
    Janie

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    Replies
    1. Lol Nobody ever claimed my mom was sane!

      I was OBSESSED with that doll. My mom said I was really well behaved for a toddler, except for that doll. I wouldn't go anywhere without her and she had to be stiched back together many times because she was just too old.

      I've always been an ass kicker. :)

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    2. The Hurricane had a pink blanket and a whole family of stuffed animals that we had to carry around the house. She had to have her stuff all the time.

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    3. Kids are weird. I mean, they're cute, but still weird.

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  2. Now, your mom's story was pretty bad, I admit. But when you say it out loud, "One time in Mexico I got kicked out for being drunk," it doesn't sound terrible.

    Now look at yours. Just say it out loud. "One time I beat the shit out of a three year old." Regardless of how young you were, that sentence just sounds immensely more fucked up. Now add this: "One time, in church, I beat the shit out of a three year old."

    You win SO hard. Rachel is much, much worse.

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    Replies
    1. Hahahaha I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that you say I'm so much worse.

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    2. I think it's great. You can hang with us any time. We can even hit up the seediest of bars, knowing tough guys won't try to start anything with us.

      "Hey, you don't want to mess with this one, man. She used to beat up toddlers for sport."

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    3. I'll be the muscle for you guys, no problem. I'm 5'5" and 124 pounds; ain't nobody gonna fuck with us.

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  3. Rachel is worse. But what I think happened, is that Baby Girl Jesus was really a demon disguised as a doll. It possessed Rachel's soul and turned her into a violent child. But only for a moment. Fortunately, the effects were not long-lasting.

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    Replies
    1. Hahaha I think some of the effects are still lasting, as I have a short temper and have been known to express it loudly.

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  4. Rachel's Mom was worse:
    1. She was a 16 year old in her prime...but her regular outing involved Juarez and getting s**tfaced. Mom, Mom, Mom...kids will hold this over your head in the future.
    2.Juarez is one of the most dangerous cities in North America...but she went for the green Kool Aid.
    3. Juarez is known for lawlessness, gangs, murders, massacres, drug lords...but MOM got kicked out without participating in any of those things...again, blame it on the so called "Kool-Aid."
    4. Mom, you knew you were driving. I'll give you the first Kool-Aid. By the second one, you knew what it was about and the room started spinning...by the third, whoo-hooo, pass the KOOL-AID!
    5. Finally, you win, Mom - because you let Rachel put this tale up against a church faux pas that happened when she was three. Awesome sauce.

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    Replies
    1. It was ordered as a virgin drink and Mexico is known for having drinks that you don't taste or feel until you stand up, which was what happened to her. She downed the first two within a few minutes so it hit her hard, but all at once, after she started the third one. Going out drinking was dumb and so was crossing the boarder to do so, but she was still a kid and kids are stupid, especially when they aren't taught about anything like alcohol, drugs, or sex.

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    2. First of all, this happened in the 80's. Things weren't as bad in Mexico then as they are now. I was a teenager, who didn't watch the news and who didn't have parents updating me on the world, so I wouldn't have known anyways. They were always nice and treated Americans with respect. We never had a problem with anyone there, except for that night. (Which was only one bad night, out of three years of going semi-regularly.)

      Secondly, we didn't go to just get shit-faced, especially because we had to get home safely by curfew. We went to get away from our families and have some sense of freedom, since we were all in a backassward situation. We only drank some and we were never supposed to be drunk. That was the only night anyone got carried, because I was hurt more than because I was drunk.

      Thirdly, it was summer. It was hot and humid and I don't do well with heat, so when I had something cold to drink, I downed it. I learned the hard way not to let your friends order your drinks for you, but at least I learned it. Nobody ever ordered my drinks or made them out of my supervision again. I wasn't supposed to be drunk that night but I was and I made sure that the DD never drank after that.

      Now, onto Rachel. She is almost 22 years old. She can compare oranges to hot dogs for all I care. The stories made us laugh and start a debate with each other, that she thought it would be fun to share with her readers and friends on here. Of course I gave my okay for her to share my story, but she can say whatever she wants.

      My final point is that this happened more than 20 years ago. I didn't have somebody telling me that alcohol can be dangerous or that you shouldn't do stupid things. I've always been honest with my daughter because she is smart enough to learn from my stupidity. If it keeps her from making my mistakes, why should I keep quiet about it?

      I'm sorry if we took your comment the wrong way but it seems to me like there needed to be a few things cleared up here.

      ~Rachel's Mom

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    3. You took my comments the wrong way. I was totally laughing as I wrote them, trying to make a compelling argument. Sorry to offend, but there was very little "seriousness" to my comment.

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    4. I think we can all agree that it's very hard to see jokes online and that there should definitely be a sarcasm font.

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  5. Seems to me that getting a drink you think is virgin and it turns out not to be... kind of just sucks 16 or not. At least she sought to be responsible, so I think the worse here would be Rachel - just because I really do imagine that doll was possessed or something and I get a hardy laugh out of shenanigans in churches.

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    Replies
    1. It's a good theory and makes me seem a lot nicer than I actually am, so I'll go with it!

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    ReplyDelete