HUMOR
Regrets…I’ve Had a FewAUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND 05 July 2009 |
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There are a few things in my life that I regret doing. But stealing from the Red Cross isn’t one of them.
Vomiting into a colander when I was drunk certainly is.
And I wish my last words to my grandmother hadn’t been so mundane.
“Have you got any vinegar?”
I would have said something more meaningful if I’d known she would die suddenly that night.
But on the whole, I’m lucky that my regrets are small enough and silly enough not to leave me in a permanent state of distress.
Regret, I think, is tied up very closely with shame. And this is why I don’t regret my Red Cross heist.
When I was eleven, my school made a devil’s deal with the Red Cross. It went something like this: The Red Cross needed money. The school needed to make its pupils suffer. They joined forces and made the children collect money from strangers on a Saturday morning. It was compulsory. No. Way. Out.
So on the wettest, coldest, winter morning, the school and the charity forced me and my fellow students off on foot to beg at people’s doors. Armed only with a bucket, a badge and a bad attitude.
My ’section’ was part of the city that was about six square blocks. It would take me four hours to cover on foot. I had to enter every gate and knock on every door and ask every suspicious homeowner for a donation to the Red Cross. I would hand them an envelope and ask for it to be filled with loose change, or even better—notes.
I braved dogs, mean students with hangovers, and potential sex offenders.
The old ladies were best. They took pity on my bedraggled self and gave me cash for ‘those poor souls in Africa.’
“Aren’t you a good girl to be out collecting on a day like this?” they would say.
“Yes,” I would say. Hamming up my chattering teeth just a little.
They might have cared about the poor souls on the other side of the world, but it was clear they didn’t give a shit about the one on their doorstep.
Collecting for the Red Cross was supposed to somehow enlighten us. Make us more compassionate and noble. But I was growing more bitter with every footstep.
This is child slavery, I thought to myself. The Red Cross is exploiting me.
This was a tantalising thought. It meant that I was free to do very bad things.
So when my enforced begging was nearly up, I let my hand dip into my bucket and get a feel for all those sitting-duck envelopes. The ones filled with coins were tempting with their solid weight, but my brain told me the biggest prize would be in the lighter ones.
It was as good as a carnival lucky dip. I scooped out an envelope and tucked it in my pocket. It didn’t feel wrong. I was simply paying myself for a job well done.
The Red Cross should be ashamed of itself.
When I had delivered the takings—well, most of it—back to the church hall and had been relieved of my duties, I stoically declined the cup of hot cocoa and walked out back into the rain.
A block away from the school-endorsed child labour camp, I took out my envelope to see how much my hourly rate had worked out to be.
A green note winked at me. Twenty dollars. Twenty dollars was a lot of money then. Probably still is today.
I felt a slight pang of guilt. But not enough to return the money.
Now, I could have gone straight to the nearest store and spent my earnings on candy and menthol cigarettes but something told me that this money, meant for the Red Cross, may be marked for a higher purpose.
So the twenty dollars went into my bank account and became the base of savings that would allow me to spend my money on things I really would regret.
Like the Bedazzler.
In the eighties, the Bedazzler was a sign o’ the times. Like saxophones and hair gel. And I was desperate for one.
The Bedazzler gave you the freedom to create things of beauty. Like rhinestone studded shirts and bags and leggings. It came with a selection of studs and jewels and the only limit was your own imagination. Mine was about to soar.
It soared high that first day. Hunched over the little stapler-like gadget, I bedazzled until the sun went down. And then I hit the town in my new creation.
‘Impress your friends!‘ the ad had promised. ‘Make a fashion statement!‘
I fully expected that this would be the start of my career as a fashion designer. I was ready for the compliments and wondered whether I would be able to fill what was sure to be a high demand for orders.
They never came.
I couldn’t work it out. Maybe everyone had a Bedazzler of their own. Maybe my bedazzling technique was too ‘fashion forward.’ Maybe I was just ahead of my time.
Or maybe I’d been duped.
I had been dazzled by the Bedazzler and I was now bedeviled by regret.
It’s funny how things go full circle. I don’t know what happened to the Bedazzler. But I do know what happened to the shirt.
It ended up at the Red Cross and that is what I call poetic justice. With a side serving of rhinestones.
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Comment by Rich Ferguson
2009-07-05 12:21:19
I once stole from the Red Cross, too. While working a temp job at their LA office, I heisted a few ball point pens and some Post-Its. Will I go to hell for that, you think?
Comment by Brad Listi
2009-07-05 12:23:30
Definitely. Save me a seat.
Comment by Zara
2009-07-05 12:25:44
I think it depends if you felt guilty or not. I didn’t, so I’m definitely going to hell.
Comment by Irene Zion (Lenore’s Mom)
2009-07-05 12:49:59
Victor used to collect for UNICEF and spend the money on cigarettes.
Comment by Zara
2009-07-05 13:14:06
God, I’m so happy that I’m not the only person who robbed charities. I feel so much lighter after this true confession…
Comment by Zoe Brock
2009-07-05 12:52:04
AMAZING POST!! I laughed my arse off. Wish I was there for the colander moment…. priceless.
Comment by Zara
2009-07-05 13:13:03
Thanks gorgeous! The colander moment was gross. Trust me!
Comment by Zoe Brock
2009-07-05 13:16:23
what stayed IN, I wonder?
Comment by Zara
2009-07-05 13:17:06
Carrot chunks.
Comment by Zoe Brock
2009-07-05 14:33:53
no corn? I always find it amazing how there is corn in spew even when you haven’t eaten it in months.
fascinating.
Comment by James Michael Blaine
2009-07-05 13:55:11
Ooh the BeDeviler
now that’s an implement
you scrulish little imp.
Love your new picture
are you a Bettie Page
fan?
Comment by Zara
2009-07-05 14:02:50
Scrulish little imp! I like it… I’m not well acquainted with Betty Page. Should I go look at some pictures?
Comment by jmblain
2009-07-05 15:37:30
Oh yes certainly.
Google Bettie Page
World of Wonder.
Comment by N.L. Belardes
2009-07-05 15:56:26
I was trying to get my kid to bedazzle her pajamas just yesterday. She would have none of it. :/
I love this post. I’m in agreement. Adults shouldn’t make kids do the dirty work. I know this was a charity, but the way it reads, you didn’t have a choice. And choices matter.
Can I borrow $20??
Comment by Zara
2009-07-05 16:07:55
Of course you can. American dollars or New Zealand?
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-05 16:26:32
Ha ha ha… a colander. Disgustingly priceless.
It’s OK. We’re all going straight to hell - I’ve done the same thing, more or less.
At least you spent the money well, on the Bedazzler. I love so much that you actually bought that thing.
Comment by Zara
2009-07-05 16:53:27
I knew you’d like the colander spew. You and Zoe both - you’re so Australian! Which charity did you rip off then??
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-05 17:02:19
Um.
Well.
As it happens… I kind of invented one. And went from house to house. Asking for money.
In my defence, I was overwhelmed with guilt that I saved up and went around and anonymously dropped all the money I’d illegally earned back.
Comment by Zoe Brock
2009-07-05 18:05:26
I can’t believe I’m the good girl suddenly. I never did anything this rotten. you fuckers are gonna BURN!! mwhahahahahahhahahahahahah!!
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-07-05 21:25:34
That’s much worse than mine. INVENTING a charity. Still, you gave it back - that means you’ll go to heaven.
Comment by Kimberly M. Wetherell
2009-07-06 08:36:39
Simon’s very own “Human Fund”… HA!!!
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-07 11:26:04
HA! I’d forgotten about the Human Fund…
Comment by Matt Baldwin
2009-07-05 17:34:11
Way to stick it to ‘em, Zara!
I was a Boy Scout for a while as a child. We raised funds by erecting hot dog stands in front of supermarkets. We tried to sell backed goods as well, but it turns out the Girl Scouts have a mafia-like hold over that racket, and the body count from the inevitable turf war led us to take the path of least resistance. The dogs were a $1 for a plain, $1.50 for toppings, $.50 for a soda. I was never brave enough to swipe from the till, but I stole hot dogs. Didn’t even have to sneak them, either; I’d just deliberately over-boil them so they’d split and we couldn’t sell them. Someone had to deal with the rejects.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-07-05 21:26:18
Don’t mess with the girl scouts, they’ll take your eye out given half the chance…
Comment by Lenore
2009-07-05 19:31:55
potential sex offenders….hahaha.
um, i’ve never even been trusted enough to be put in the position to steal from charity. but i sure stole from my first job at a pizza place. and from my parents. i stole a shit ton of money from my parents.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-07-05 21:26:57
Uh oh. You’re coming with us, Lenore….
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-05 23:56:50
Thanks for the giggle. I giggled much as I read.
I’m reminded me of the time I stole pennies from my dad’s jar to make up the difference on some record I decided I had to have. But I’d been spied, and my dad, by way of making a point, broke out the penny jar and divided its contents between me and my siblings, savoring the guilty look on my face as he did so. I was only officially busted a day or so later, having given myself away.
Charming photo, incidentally.
See you all in Hell!
Comment by Autumn
2009-07-06 02:13:24
I once stole a pair of flip-flop’s from a Christian thrift store.
It was during my summer as a Master Thief, when I would steal anything just to prove I could.
But I wanted the flip-flops. I coveted them. And then I stole them.
I guess I’m going to Hell, too. At least I’ll have all of you for good company!
Comment by Zara
2009-07-06 10:41:25
Master Thief. That is an excellent title. Love it!
Comment by Kimberly M. Wetherell
2009-07-06 08:38:05
Hell: Where we’re all going, together, which makes it, oddly enough: Heaven.
Comment by Zara
2009-07-06 10:42:40
Let’s hope there’s good music.
Comment by Kimberly M. Wetherell
2009-07-06 12:58:03
If Reno and Rich and JMB are there - I am certain we’ll be jammin’!
Comment by Megan
2009-07-06 08:44:33
I was going to compliment your awesome opening line - except the first 5 lines were kickers! Great job on this “assignment”. I love how long you have been rockin’ bangs.
The worst thing I ever stole was a husband. But I gave him back before getting caught.
Comment by Zara
2009-07-06 10:44:10
Now, that IS bad!! That’s funny you noticed my fringe, I’ve never not had one! Fringes are totally cool.
Comment by Kimberly M. Wetherell
2009-07-06 12:59:03
Fringe? Is that the NZ term for what we call “bangs”? I’m SO going to steal that!!!
Comment by Zara
2009-07-06 13:03:12
It took so long for me to work out that ‘bangs’ meant fringe… I used to read American books that talked about bangs and couldn’t work it out. Bang down here is either a loud noise or sex. Either of which would be wierd on my face….
Comment by Gina Frangello
2009-07-06 11:38:11
Aren’t the Red Cross and the Boy Scouts and all those kinds of organizations pretty much infamous for being prejudiced against various groups like homosexuals or non-Christians, etc.? So doesn’t stealing for them deserve to be classified as some kind of political resistance? I say you were a radical 11 year old! Fight the power, girl.
Comment by Zara
2009-07-06 13:01:08
Call me Zara Guevara.
Comment by oksana marafioti
2009-07-06 15:35:10
If I were there with you on that day, I’d dip for an envelope too. Especially if a Bedazzler was involved.
Alas, I wasn’t as creative in the ‘evil deed’ department. Once, I stole a cucumber from the school cafeteria. I brought it home and told mom that our teacher gave out cucumbers as prizes for good behavior. We had it in salad later that night.
GREAT POST!
Comment by Zara
2009-07-06 16:36:21
I can’t believe your mother fell for that!! Who gives out cucumbers as prizes!!! HAHAHAH that’s very funny.
Comment by oksana marafioti
2009-07-06 17:39:42
I don’t think she believed me, but just as you said, who in their right mind would steal a cucumber and then make up a story about it? I believe she didn’t know how to deal with her daughter at the moment, so she opted for acting like nothing strange happened instead.
Comment by Megan DiLullo
2009-07-07 08:59:30
You are so awesome!
If I didn’t already have an internet wife in another country, I would so ask you to marry me.
We would bedazzle our hers and hers dresses until they were too heavy to wear and blinded the gods with your talent.
A colander? Really? Sounds like a multipurpose tiara.
Comment by Zara
2009-07-07 12:59:36
There’s always polygamy…We can tell people we bonded over a bedazzler. They’ll say our love is strange.
Comment by Marni Grossman
2009-07-07 10:00:35
“I had been dazzled by the Bedazzler and I was now bedeviled by regret.” So fucking funny.
But you weren’t the only one to be dazzled by the Bedazzler. We all were, Zara, we all were.
Comment by Zara
2009-07-07 13:00:45
Thanks, Marni! I’m taking from your comment that you have some bedazzling secrets to share….???
Comment by Ducky
2009-08-08 19:12:17
Yes, indeed! I have a bedazzler story, too. How cool!
You make me slap my knee.
Hadn’t had this good a laugh since Guffman.
Thanks for some great bedtime stories.