A Bad Teen Movie

[Pippa]

John Hughes died today. In honor of his death, my life became a bad teen movie.

I did not learn of John Hughes' death until I returned home at 1 AM. But I now believe that John Hughes, unbeknownst to me, was messing with my life from beyond death. This is the only explanation I can come up with for the night's events.



A huge, overcrowded party with multiple kegs and pounding music. Most of the time I avoid these sorts of parties. They are always busted and never fun. In 80's and 90's teen movies these parties were commonplace.

Parents in pissy mood. Best friend's parents ridiculously strict. Strict parents call pissy parents at 12:30 AM, daughters aren't at home. Where are they? At a cliched party of course.

Pissy mother texts my friends from my phone, which I left at home (I'm stupid and careless). Pissy mother questions daughter upon arrival with look of doom. Pissy mother will be silently punishing daughter for weeks.

It was fun.


But here's the deal. That's not my life. My life is having parents who don't give a shit. I normally tell them only cursory details, the shallowest of information. We coexist peacefully except for the occasional flare up (Pissy mother calls daughter a "godless whore slut" and daughter laughs irreverently).

I come and go with little fuss. I go out to parties. Normally small affairs (see recent entry entitled "A Summer of These Nights" *) with good friends, alcohol, and drugs. I lead a quiet life based on the unspoken agreement that I am allowed to do anything I like as long as I do my parents the courtesy of keeping it out of sight.

I leave for collee in exactly twenty days. High school is over. This era of my life is ending. But of course before I move away from home John Hughes decided to intervene. He just wanted to make sure I experienced the bad cliche before going away. How thoughtful.

I think I played the part of "rebellious teenaged daughter**" well. It was almost fun for a change. Except that it was completely ridiculous.

Thank you, John!




*Epilogue: Pissy mother never knew I even left the house that night. She never knows and never cares. Except tonight when forced to care because another kid's parents called them out. Laurie (that's Pissy Mother) wouldn't have given a shit that I left without telling her if Dr. Wayne hadn't called.

**I sat out on the front stoop of a stranger's house talking on the phone to furious parents as the party raged around me. I said "fuck" a lot (not unusual for me actually). I yelled at my brother.
The funny thing is that that girl is not me. I am not "rebellious." What have I ever had to rebel from? My parents never cared. I don't drink or smoke to rebel. I drink and smoke for the hell of it. I think teenage rebellion is cliched. And yet look at my night...