So. Awhile back I wrote a blog that mentioned…*cough*…quite forcibly…how much I hate Jim Carrey. To paraphrase a character I love, ““Dear Jim, I hate your stinking guts. You make me vomit. You’re scum between my toes! Love, Sheri.”
Now. Those are strong words. I admit it. Which made a blog friend question…”WHAT?! NO!! YOU’RE WRONG! YOU CAN’T HATE JIM CARREY!!!” (Also paraphrased…and probably a lot more emphatic than it was meant.)
I am here to say…
Yes, Ron…I do indeed mean it…I stand by it…and here is the WHY.
You see…what had happened was…
11th grade. Picture Sweet Little 16-Year-Old Sheri. (Or something. Whatever.)
Sheri has met a new boy who she really likes. No need to protect the innocent because, let’s be real, no one reads this shit. lol Anyway…This boy’s name was Clint.
Clint finally asked Sheri out on a real date. Dinner and a Jackie Chan movie. (Jackie is also on my 27-year-old Shit List.) Clint crashes the car while leaving the movie. Meh, whatever. Not the worst first date I’ve had in life, in retrospect. But, it did piss my mom off. (Also, in retrospect, have to wonder if it pissed her off it didn’t finish me…I mean…ummmm…ANYWAYS….)
So. Clint and I date for the rest of my Junior year and into the beginning of my senior year. (*throat clear* This is where I admit Clint was better off without me…I broke up with him because he agreed with me too much…”Dude. I can tell you the grass is blue and you agree it’s a beautiful shade of blue…I need someone to disagree with me…I’m wrong sometimes…A LOT, actually…and I need someone to tell me that! Seriously…the rest of this story does nothing to make up for how I broke that poor boy back then…eek…)
All through that time we dated…Clint was OBSESSED with Jim Carrey. We had to see all of his movies. I found them rather obnoxious anyway, but EXTRA obnoxious because my boyfriend and his friends were constantly acting them out like they were about to try out for Jim Carrey In The Park.
And then…it happened…
The day before Junior Prom and 2 days before I went to Disney for a National competition of a school club I was in.
We were driving up to a friend’s house. We were in one of those teenage caravans of three carloads worth of friends. The girl, whose house it was, in the lead in her VW van. Her boyfriend (who later became my ex-husband) and his friend next in his friend’s truck. And then…me and Clint. Now, what happened? Here’s what happened. The girl’s van got very far ahead. No problem. Her boyfriend knew how to get to her house, so we’re still fine.
OR ARE WE, CLINT, YOU GIANT DUMBASS?!?!
No, no we were not.
Clint decided to STICK HIS FUCKING HEAD OUT THE WINDOW LIKE HE’S ACE-FUCKING-VENTURA and pass the truck that had THE PERSON WHO KNEW WHERE WE WERE GOING.
“Dude…Clint…We don’t know how to get there…”
Clint takes a very fast, VERY unannounced left hand turn into a driveway…right as the truck (with the smarter friends who realized they needed to be in the front) tried to pass us on the left.
Truck…slams into us…we go spinning into a ditch.
<insert world spinning…world slamming to a stop…car doors opening…people running…>
Everyone runs to check out our friend’s new truck and the damage.
I did not.
In the collision and spin, my neck was…how you say in English…FUCKED.
I couldn’t get out of the car.
My boyfriend didn’t even notice. No one noticed. Not until my now-ex-husband’s cousin said, “Hey, guys…Sheri didn’t get out…and I hear her crying…”
They came over to check on me and realized my neck was really bad.
But they told me I couldn’t tell anyone. “This is the second accident with Clint. Your parents will be mad. You can’t say anything.”
They gave me a warm washcloth for my neck…strict instructions on not telling…and took me home.
I went to prom and Disney world having to pretend to all of the adults around me that I didn’t have an, honestly, REALLY bad case of whiplash.
And since then…I hate Jim Carrey. Because that kind of stupidity makes stupid ass teenage boys do stupid ass things…and makes stupid ass teenage girls accept it.
So, if you take away my hatred of JC…you take away very valid life lessons I learned from that boyfriend.
Is that what you want, Ron? IS IT?!?!?!! I didn’t think so.
Thank you for riding Jazz Hands Mom’s Wild Ride. Your exits are here, here, here and here.
*hair flip and flounce away*