and this one time, at Clown Camp....
I figured since it's almost Halloween, I'd share this lovely nugget with you. When I was about 14, my goal in life was to be a clown in the circus. For realsies.
(Now, since we are new here and I haven't posted enough to tell you about my fucked up life, we will start slow and easy.)
I grew up with my Grandparents, I called them Mom and Dad (that whole story another time)...what I'm getting at is that they were old. Old as fuck. They were 55 when they got me as a baby, so to me they were fucking ancient! Course, the closer I get to that age the younger it seems, but seriously they were fucking old.
So old, that they had no desire to play (deal) with me. We had nothing in common, two generations between us and a cigarette smoked haze of "Go Away" permanently lingered in the air.
They loved nothing more than to get me involved in anything that would occupy me or get me out of the house. I did Brownies/Girl Scouts, baton twirling (sucked), guitar lessons (learned one song, badly), played the flute (was pretty good at that one, but never as good as Tasha Kovich - she was the bomb). I took horseback riding lessons, swimming lessons, went to Sunday School (but skipped a lot to go to 7-11 and get candy), even went to a "finishing school" kind of thing (the only thing I took away from that is that you look like a cow when you chew gum)...you get the idea.
Ok, so it was getting close to Halloween and I needed a costume for school. I got a pattern to make a clown costume and found a giant metal ring that I was trying to sew into the waist. Me, being the klutz that i am managed to sew through my freaking finger. LITERALLY!
I damned near passed out from the pain while trying to get the needle out!
After a few days, I did manage to finish my costume, albeit by hand sewing. (that trauma lasted for years!) I had a big, oversized red and wide ruffle collar, a red nose and big red floppy shoes. Topped off with a giant rainbow striped afro and a foam lizard on a stick as a pet. I was Silly The Clown. (not very creative, but it's what I had)
Shortly after, I found out that there was a clown camp happening through our church. Hell ya people! I already had a costume and everything! (apparently clowns must have been all the rage back then, I mean really...a clown camp? WTF?)
I learned everything I possibly could that week. I was now a professional! We went to a hospital and a mall, I made balloon animals and the whole nine yards!
I got a couple birthday party gigs and even got hired by the local Chamber of Commerce to work a trade show. Made $100 and thought I had officially hit the big time!
I spent tons of time learning magic tricks and even got a unicycle. Yes, I had a unicycle. No, I was not very good at it. Hell, I could barely ride a bicycle.
I was so convinced that clowning was what I wanted to do, I made my parents take me to the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Clown College when we went to Florida for vacation. I was going to join the circus!
Course, that never happened. Instead, I got into boys, Madonna and all the wrong things. But that's another story for another time.