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Silly

I Stuck My Head Under A Waterfall One Time

I started writing about how I’ve been so bad at texting lately and I got, like, a good 4 paragraphs in before I realized I was forcing myself to talk about something that I really didn’t care to elaborate on because I’m not going to change.

In a nutshell, I hate that people can contact me whenever they f—ing want, especially in this pandemic because they KNOW I should text back right away because I’m not doing anything important, except maybe ordering a Bop-It on e-bay or watching old ‘DZ: Discovery Zone’ commercials on YouTube. But sometimes, I really just HAVE to have the control, and I just am NOT going to text you back right then and there, and you are going to HAVE to deal with it or don’t text me anymore, but please still extend me all the benefits and courtesies of being your friend like asking me to be in your wedding and occasionally sending me Blair Waldorf memes like this:

But anyway, I was having trouble focusing on writing this because my foot is throbbing and also today I finally found a waterfall I stuck my head under during a game of truth or dare when I was 12. And it was super exciting and nostalgic and cathartic because I have been on many-a-nature walk trying to find this stupid little waterfall and I even briefly considered walking into strangers’ backyards to do it, but it didn’t end up coming to that and I was too much of chicken—t anyway.

When I was 12, I stuck my head under this waterfall on a dare at a sleepover birthday party and it was really gross and scary because it was dark and loud and there was a shit ton of goopy, icky moss and an old Burger King cup under there:

THE WATERFALL I STUCK MY HEAD UNDER!

But I did it, and I was proud, and I guess it was some sort of defining moment in my adolescence because here I am dedicating all this time and blog space to it.

Was this the same birthday sleep-over party where I fell asleep first and they decided to put strawberry Hershey syrup all up and down my arms?

Probably.

Did I secretly cry in the bathroom?

Yes.

Was finding this waterfall worth the poison ivy I’m probably going to get?

You be the judge.

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PS. Forgot to talk about throbbing foot. Of CRUCIAL importance.

So the other day, out of nowhere, this one section of skin on my foot started itching like CRAZY and when s–t itches, I scratch it, because the cavemen didn’t have calamine lotion. And then before I knew it, I had scratched it raw and now it REALLY hurts, and no one believes that I was bit by something that left an invisible bite, they just say “JESSE YOU SCRATCHED YOUR SKIN OFF” which is TRUE but also NOT TRUE because it was just VERY ITCHY.

Fin.

By Jesse Pardee

Stream of consciousness blather about my blackheads and mindfulness quest.