"Everybody's talking all this stuff about me.
Why don't they just let me live?"
My Prerogative - Bobby Brown
Though I knew it couldn't last forever, 1988 had been the "Don't Worry, Be Happy" year for me (never mind that by this time everyone was so sick of that song, having been so overplayed on every radio station!). I had a decent apartment in EP, good friends and plenty of free time to indulge in leisure activities since I worked only part-time at a Cranston Center group home in, of all places, Cranston.
Around this date I think my weekly schedule was only about 15 hours. And only taking a resident out on a recreation 1:1. So if you don't consider going to the mall or a movie or out to eat "work", I had 100% free time.
Problem was, of course, I had very little money.
Somehow though, I scrambled up enough dough to (barely) be able to join Linda and Bill (her BF at the time) on a ski trip over the New Year's holiday up to New Hampshire.
We stayed as the houseguests of Linda's cousin in North Conway. Linda's cousin was like a younger, spunkier version of Linda. All pomp and circumstance, sporting all the status symbols she could...newly-constructed condo with designer interior including the relatively new fads of berber carpets and granite countertops. She wore her silver sable coat to counter Linda's chocolate-brown mink in an effort to show off who was the more affluent of the two (or the more politically incorrect since the anti-fur movement was really quite prominent by this time).
Linda's cousin (I'd refer to her by name but I can't for the life of me remember it) especially loved her "Baby Benz", a smaller model in a "more affordable" low 20's price range (20 grand, back then, was still a lot to pay for a car!)
I remember she off-handedly mentioned what she did for a living but I thought it was fascinating. If I had known her better or if she lived in RI like we did, I might have asked her for more info regarding her field. She made styrofoam architectural models using the then brand-new software-guided laser sculpting technique. She worked from home and architects hired her freelance for her services. She didn't seem like the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree so it must have been relatively simple. I don't think she designed the CAD, she took the rough laser sculpted piece and refined it with X-Acto knife work and gussied it up with little miniature trees and cars and shit.
The vacation started off pleasantly enough. We got there late on the 30th. I remember there was quite a bit of snow, especially once we got to Central New Hampshire. It was weird cause there was no snow all the way up from RI, but here it was like freshly packed and about 3 feet deep. That's the mountains for ya.
We went out for dinner and already I could see I was under-powered in the money department. I had to carefully price my selections without it appearing that I was broke. Didn't want to not keep up appearances. No problem about Linda knowing, she knew my financial situation. She somewhat had an influence on it when she essentially fired me from BVC, but that's another story. Plus, in this time period, that was over a year ago before, so it's no excuse.
I think we opted to get back to the condo early since we wanted to get settled after the "long" drive. (LOL, Rhode Islanders think a trip to New Hampshire...about 100 miles...is like an elaborate journey cross country! It's a well-known idosyncrasy of Rhode Islanders that they will treat a day trip to the beach like it was an expedition to Antarctica!) Plus we wanted to get up early to ski and then go out to the clubs (whatever there were in this small burg) for New Year's Eve partying.
We got up and had breakfast then headed over to the sports outfitters for appropriate gear. I especially needed stuff with my non-designer winter coat and accessories, but, alas, I could not afford anything.
The fashion for ski apparel at the time, as it would continue for the next few years was easily summed up in one word: NEON! Day-glo orange, electric tourqoise, even hot pink!
I was dressed in dull grey and dark blue. How out of style!
Since I had never skied before, I took the free beginners training class on the bunny slope, while the others went to the more mature hill. Gotta admit it was kinda fun. But when I tried to "graduate" later to the moderate slope, my acrophobia kicked it big time. This was way too high and the slope was way too steep...for me. But, amazingly with Linda and Bill's encouragement, I overcame my fears and skied down it...with my newly-learned, amaturish, snowplow stance and all. It must have been hilarity to see me, arms flailing, as I rocketed (so it seemed) down that hill to a very undignified controlled fall to stop at the bottom.
After a day of skiing, we headed back to the condo and Bill had picked up a bottle of cheap Asti Spumanti to start off the evening. Linda and I, both very experienced in the "Alcohol Arts" knew that Asti was considered "lower-class" than champagne, and California "champagne" less desirable than true French champagne. But we were gracious and accepted a glass to toast with.
Linda's cousin, though, hadn't seen the bottle when she came into the kitchen to join us in a toast, Bill had already popped the cork and was pouring our glasses. So when she took her first sip, no doubt she was expecting the mellow bite of a fine "Brut" but instead, to her surprise, got a mouthful of sickly sweetness. She made this face as if she had just been poisoned, dumped the remains of her glass into the nearby sink and said "Uhg, that's awful!"
For some reason, that one action was talked about by Linda for years afterwards.
We went to a house party thrown by one of Linda's cousins friend's, then went out to at least 2 other local watering holes. Each place seemed to be blaring out "My Prerogative", the hot song at the time...thus the quote at the beginning of this post.
Bill ended up getting drunk (me too, of course), but he turned into a real jerk and began getting demanding of Linda (which if you know Linda, you know she doesn't tolerate for long). Then he even got physically abusive and at one point pulled her hair! No one ever laid a hand on Linda!
The next morning he was all apologetic and Linda, shockingly, seemed okay with it. They must have had "make-up" sex during the night. Linda was, at the time, quite "in-lust" for this guy. I didn't think he looked that great, but Linda confided in me, like the good fag hag she was, that he had a huge dick. With Linda's ego, it was no surprise she was a size queen.
We skied a bit more today, New Year's Day, at another mountain, Wildcat. Here, Linda and Bill went up to the top in the gondola lift...I wouldn't even look at it...way too high for me. It was again off to the bunny slope for me.
Linda eventually broke up with Bill soon afterwards, and I'm sure his temper shown during this outing had a major impact in that decision.
We never visited Linda's cousin again, and I can't remember if she even showed up for the infamous 40th anniversary party Linda threw for her parents in the early 90's, but as I said, the Asti Spumanti incident lived on. Linda probably still talks about it...who knows?
Funny how...back in the eighties, Linda and I we were inseparable.
Of course I haven't seen Linda in over 12 years.
But I guess that my prerogative, and definitely another story.
Why don't they just let me live?"
My Prerogative - Bobby Brown
Though I knew it couldn't last forever, 1988 had been the "Don't Worry, Be Happy" year for me (never mind that by this time everyone was so sick of that song, having been so overplayed on every radio station!). I had a decent apartment in EP, good friends and plenty of free time to indulge in leisure activities since I worked only part-time at a Cranston Center group home in, of all places, Cranston.
Around this date I think my weekly schedule was only about 15 hours. And only taking a resident out on a recreation 1:1. So if you don't consider going to the mall or a movie or out to eat "work", I had 100% free time.
Problem was, of course, I had very little money.
Somehow though, I scrambled up enough dough to (barely) be able to join Linda and Bill (her BF at the time) on a ski trip over the New Year's holiday up to New Hampshire.
We stayed as the houseguests of Linda's cousin in North Conway. Linda's cousin was like a younger, spunkier version of Linda. All pomp and circumstance, sporting all the status symbols she could...newly-constructed condo with designer interior including the relatively new fads of berber carpets and granite countertops. She wore her silver sable coat to counter Linda's chocolate-brown mink in an effort to show off who was the more affluent of the two (or the more politically incorrect since the anti-fur movement was really quite prominent by this time).
Linda's cousin (I'd refer to her by name but I can't for the life of me remember it) especially loved her "Baby Benz", a smaller model in a "more affordable" low 20's price range (20 grand, back then, was still a lot to pay for a car!)
I remember she off-handedly mentioned what she did for a living but I thought it was fascinating. If I had known her better or if she lived in RI like we did, I might have asked her for more info regarding her field. She made styrofoam architectural models using the then brand-new software-guided laser sculpting technique. She worked from home and architects hired her freelance for her services. She didn't seem like the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree so it must have been relatively simple. I don't think she designed the CAD, she took the rough laser sculpted piece and refined it with X-Acto knife work and gussied it up with little miniature trees and cars and shit.
The vacation started off pleasantly enough. We got there late on the 30th. I remember there was quite a bit of snow, especially once we got to Central New Hampshire. It was weird cause there was no snow all the way up from RI, but here it was like freshly packed and about 3 feet deep. That's the mountains for ya.
We went out for dinner and already I could see I was under-powered in the money department. I had to carefully price my selections without it appearing that I was broke. Didn't want to not keep up appearances. No problem about Linda knowing, she knew my financial situation. She somewhat had an influence on it when she essentially fired me from BVC, but that's another story. Plus, in this time period, that was over a year ago before, so it's no excuse.
I think we opted to get back to the condo early since we wanted to get settled after the "long" drive. (LOL, Rhode Islanders think a trip to New Hampshire...about 100 miles...is like an elaborate journey cross country! It's a well-known idosyncrasy of Rhode Islanders that they will treat a day trip to the beach like it was an expedition to Antarctica!) Plus we wanted to get up early to ski and then go out to the clubs (whatever there were in this small burg) for New Year's Eve partying.
We got up and had breakfast then headed over to the sports outfitters for appropriate gear. I especially needed stuff with my non-designer winter coat and accessories, but, alas, I could not afford anything.
The fashion for ski apparel at the time, as it would continue for the next few years was easily summed up in one word: NEON! Day-glo orange, electric tourqoise, even hot pink!
I was dressed in dull grey and dark blue. How out of style!
Since I had never skied before, I took the free beginners training class on the bunny slope, while the others went to the more mature hill. Gotta admit it was kinda fun. But when I tried to "graduate" later to the moderate slope, my acrophobia kicked it big time. This was way too high and the slope was way too steep...for me. But, amazingly with Linda and Bill's encouragement, I overcame my fears and skied down it...with my newly-learned, amaturish, snowplow stance and all. It must have been hilarity to see me, arms flailing, as I rocketed (so it seemed) down that hill to a very undignified controlled fall to stop at the bottom.
After a day of skiing, we headed back to the condo and Bill had picked up a bottle of cheap Asti Spumanti to start off the evening. Linda and I, both very experienced in the "Alcohol Arts" knew that Asti was considered "lower-class" than champagne, and California "champagne" less desirable than true French champagne. But we were gracious and accepted a glass to toast with.
Linda's cousin, though, hadn't seen the bottle when she came into the kitchen to join us in a toast, Bill had already popped the cork and was pouring our glasses. So when she took her first sip, no doubt she was expecting the mellow bite of a fine "Brut" but instead, to her surprise, got a mouthful of sickly sweetness. She made this face as if she had just been poisoned, dumped the remains of her glass into the nearby sink and said "Uhg, that's awful!"
For some reason, that one action was talked about by Linda for years afterwards.
We went to a house party thrown by one of Linda's cousins friend's, then went out to at least 2 other local watering holes. Each place seemed to be blaring out "My Prerogative", the hot song at the time...thus the quote at the beginning of this post.
Bill ended up getting drunk (me too, of course), but he turned into a real jerk and began getting demanding of Linda (which if you know Linda, you know she doesn't tolerate for long). Then he even got physically abusive and at one point pulled her hair! No one ever laid a hand on Linda!
The next morning he was all apologetic and Linda, shockingly, seemed okay with it. They must have had "make-up" sex during the night. Linda was, at the time, quite "in-lust" for this guy. I didn't think he looked that great, but Linda confided in me, like the good fag hag she was, that he had a huge dick. With Linda's ego, it was no surprise she was a size queen.
We skied a bit more today, New Year's Day, at another mountain, Wildcat. Here, Linda and Bill went up to the top in the gondola lift...I wouldn't even look at it...way too high for me. It was again off to the bunny slope for me.
Linda eventually broke up with Bill soon afterwards, and I'm sure his temper shown during this outing had a major impact in that decision.
We never visited Linda's cousin again, and I can't remember if she even showed up for the infamous 40th anniversary party Linda threw for her parents in the early 90's, but as I said, the Asti Spumanti incident lived on. Linda probably still talks about it...who knows?
Funny how...back in the eighties, Linda and I we were inseparable.
Of course I haven't seen Linda in over 12 years.
But I guess that my prerogative, and definitely another story.