So a Clown Walks into a Classroom...

I think one of my earliest memories of shit happening to me took place sometime in 1977. I was three years old and going to preschool while my mom took care of my baby sister. It was a fun school from what I could remember, playing, licking crepe paper, dancing to Rita Cooledge, you know, that kind of stuff. But, I was the kid who wouldn't take a nap. Seriously, I was the one who disrupted everyone else. I hated taking naps, I still do for that matter. I'm afraid I might miss something. Anyway, I remember my teacher telling us that a very special guest was going to be waiting for us after naptime. So, they put me in my usual spot in the back room by the kitchen. Really, it was a pretty pimp place to stick a three year old, that was where the graham crackers were! Suckers!! As I lounged in my little cell eating my graham crackers I remember being so excited to see the Easter Bunny. I should probably say now that I'm fairly certain it was summer and no where near Easter, but I was three - cut me some slack! Let me just say that nothing could have prepared me for what would be waiting for us after naptime.

After all of us woke up (except for me hee hee), we were ushered into the lobby where who the frig was waiting for us? Not the Easter Bunny that's for sure. It was Timmo The MutherFreakinNitemareInducingLifesNeverBeenTheSameSince Clown. Picture if you will that creepy ass clown from It minus the pointy teeth.

Hell, he might've had those pointy teeth for all I knew but there was no mutha freakin way I was going to get close enough to him to find out. At least that was MY plan; my preschool teacher, however, had other ideas.

At this point I'm having the beginnings of what will soon lead up to the biggest, most ginormous, EPIC freak out meldowns in the history of epic, ginormous, freakout meltdowns. So, hmm, what's a teacher to do? Remove child from area and calm her down? Nope. Give child a reassuring hug and say, "don't worry Brandy, you don't have to get close if you're scared"? Of course not. No, my teacher took me into the parking lot and shoved me into Timmo's tiny little clown car! I remember that bastard driving me around the parking lot while I was hysterically crying and then I must've blocked out portions because the next thing I remember is being locked in the principal's office and my mom picking me up. So mom picks me up, gives me some love and everythings hunky dory right? Wrong! Remember, I'm the person that shit always happens to.

Once my dad found out it was all over. You see, my dad is the man at whose knee I learned and honed my smart ass mouth. So for the next, oh I don't know, decade or two dad never let me forget Timmo the Clown. His favorite passtime was (and still is) pretending to either call Timmo up to babysit me for the night or pretend to be Timmo whenever I answer the phone. He never gets tired of watching me freak out. He lives for that shit! Oh Daddy, you're such a crack up!

I eventually got over my fear of clowns, but I still hate them. I don't just dislike them, I freaking HATE them. If you hate them too, check out one of my favorite webistes: http://www.ihateclowns.com/ . It's the greatest!

See folks, I wasn't just talking out my ass. Shit's been happening to me for as long as I can remember!