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Things I don't miss from my childhood

1. Nothing on TV: It's 7:00 A.M. in 1984. What's on TV in Chicago? Why, it's Bozo's Circus, an unfunny clusterfuck of greasepainted buffoons doing vaudeville schtick that's older than Grandpa's ballsack. But you'll watch Bozo and like it. What's this you say about Nickelodeon, Noggin, Cartoon Network, the Disney Channel, Bravo, et. al? Not for you, my precocious pet! Most of those channels don't yet exist, and even if they did, your Luddite parents won't become cable subscribers until 1996--after you've moved out of the house. And tonight, you'll watch Miami Vice or PBS (referred to as "Channel 11" in our home). Those are your two choices. Sadly, Miami Vice is sounding pretty awesome right now. (By the way, I agree with the popular consensus that Bozo jumped the shark when they replaced the Big Top Band with the guy with the mellotron.)

2. No access to porn: Want to see a naked lady or a real, live boner? You'd better be prepared to sift through the dank, ottery-smelling recesses of your friend's ex-stepdad's closet! That's the only way you're going to see anything. There are no ISPs. No Google. In fact, the only googly thing you're gonna see is Ex-Stepdad's eyes as he reminisces about 'Nam after downing a fifth of Wild Turkey. When I was a kid, the only "porn" I saw with any regularity was my aunt's copy of Our Bodies, Ourselves. I remember being obsessed with the page detailing different sexual positions. From then on, I cultivated a really nerdy early-'70s sexual vocabulary. My friends and I would make our Barbies fuck, and I'd inevitably quote Our Bodies, Ourselves: "Now my Barbie is getting into the female superior position. And she's fondling her vulva. Look how empowered she is, Donna."

3. The absence of Chipotle: Sure, a Taco Bell hardshell only cost, like, 47 cents. However, they didn't have fresh guacamole or that yummy corn salsa or big schhthwaps of sour cream at the Bell. We were living in a land of confusion, as Peter Gabriel sagely pointed out.

4. Being molested: Just kidding. Nobody wants to molest the ugly kid with the overbite and the oversized Working Girl frames from Pearle Vision. A lot of people assume I was molested because of the whole stripping thing, but no adult ever looked askance at me. I became a stripper become I'm completely fucked in the head, not because of any negative formative experiences. And if it had happened, I highly doubt I'd miss it, you know?

5. My brother acting like a dick: As you might have guessed from yesterday's playground anecdote, my brother was one of those monstrous siblings who lived--lived--to punish me for being born and thus disrupting his status as a pampered only. You wouldn't believe the shit this kid got away with; the worst part is that he was actually entrusted with caring for me after school. Once, I skinned my knee and he held me down and rubbed hair mousse into the bloody wound while I screamed in pain. I also got pushed, smothered, slapped full-force across the face, sustained numerous friction burns, and was reminded repeatedly and vociferously that I was a stupid, unfunny retard. This wasn't an occasional thing; this was a daily ordeal. Nowadays, my bro's been humbled by adulthood and is actually a nice person. We're close friends. Frankly, I blame my parents for not putting him on antipsychotics or shipping him off to Captain Abrasive's Academie for Sadistic Young Men.

5. School: I'm not remotely nostalgic about grade school. I hated it, and was the sneakiest sick-faking truant you ever saw. I would rather work a shitty minimum-wage job as an adult than be a first grader again. I LOVE being a grownup. All the alcohol and porn I can consume, plus they pay me to write movies. It's better than I ever dreamed of. And I have tits! I always wanted these!

Posted by Diablo Cody at October 6, 2005 10:14 AM

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