Pressure Cooked Chicken Legs

Peer pressure doesn’t usually get to me. As a kid, I never drank when I didn’t want to, or smoked a doob, or let any dude get to whatever base he was trying to get to unless I wanted him to get there. (And may I say, that whole baseball/sex analogy always confuses me. What are the bases? I can never remember. There are more than four steps to doing the deed, so how can it be condensed into three bases and a homerun? Sports analogies will always confound me no matter what. Why can’t we come up with another set of criteria to chart sexual progress? Like, say, going to the movies. That’s much more universal. “Standing in line.” “Buying a ticket.” “Eating your popcorn.” “Finding a seat.” See? So many more metaphoric possibilities. Ok, I am going to stop talking about s-e-x now or else my blog search traffic will be attracting all kinds of riff raff).

My one peer pressure story that I can think of right now happened to me in the 7th grade. This was the era of “boy-girl” parties. The archetype for this type of party is written about eloquently in that timeless ode to puberty, Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. If you know that book, you know the exact type of party I am talking about. At this party, I played Spin the Bottle for the very first time. I didn’t really want to play, as I was, even then, a picky effer and I didn’t want to chance spinning the bottle and getting forced into kissing some troll. I wanted to choose my OWN troll, thank you very much. I remember there was talk of playing the game long before the party even got started, and the anticipation of it built up this tension in the party basement (why are these parties always in a basement?) and all I could think about was the impending spin. It is not too dramatic to say that I was filled with dread.

At some point in the party, the bottle was unveiled. It was a giant, empty two-liter coke bottle, which seemed totally unromantic to me. “Who’s going to start us off?” yelled the bottlemonger. And somehow, someone (I wish I could remember who this bastard was) decided to yell out my name.

This is the part where I should have summoned forth my inner Mr. T and said “hells no. I ain’t kissin’ no random troll, fool!” But I didn’t. That person saying that I would be the one to go first, I don’t know, it had a strange power over me. A power akin to the Double Dog Dare. I couldn’t refuse. I took the bottle. And spun it.

It landed on Ryan. Ryan of the bowl haircut and chicken legs. Ryan, who although he was my friend, he was also a person who I would never, ever, ne-zever, want to touch with a ten foot pole. But there it was. He looked at me, our eyes locked, and he seriously looked like he was about to have a heart attack from fear. Everyone whooped and cheered. It was horrible. We were swept up and shoved into a closet together. Ew ew ew. We very well could have stood there and not touched each other and no one would have ever known the difference. Unfortunately 7th grade brains don’t figure this shit out. At least mine didn’t. I felt like I had to consummate the bottle-point. I had entered into this stupid game and I was going to see. it. through. We stared at each other. Ryan didn’t move. He was bugging out, big time. Petrified. I probably didn’t look much better. Finally, I took a breath, grabbed him by the shoulders, and gave him a firm, loud smooch. On the cheek. It was all I could do, and believe me, that was more than enough. Upon finishing my mission, I turned abruptly and got the hell out of that closet. I don’t remember anything else about the rest of that night. Did anyone else even continue the game? I don’t think they did. They had hazed Ryan and me enough and so they were done with that.

That’s my story of peer pressure. I guess in the grand scheme of things, it’s not so bad. But now, here in the midst of my grown-up years, I am caving again. Last year, Josh signed up for National Blog Posting Month, or as it’s now known, NaBloPoMo. Although I couldn’t imagine writing a post a day for a whole month, I signed up too. Why did I do that? Josh didn’t even ask me to. I just felt an implied peer pressure. The cool kids are doing it, so I have to do it too. So I did. And now, here we are again. Josh announces he’s doing it again on his blog, and what do I do? Sign myself right up. Geez, Librarian Girl, if Josh jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?

So, starting tomorrow, I am posting every day for the whole month. And you know what? So are you. Come on! You know you want to! Do it with me. Be my partner in diaherria of the keyboard. Sign up here, and when you do, friend me.

Do it! Do it! Don’t make me shove you in a closet with Chicken Legs Boy.

I’m out,
Librarian Girl


  1. Oh Librarian Girl. Why are you so manipulative? I feel like I’m going to cave in to your pressure and I can’t seem to post more than twice a week. How will I ever post every day for an entire month? If I do I’ll surely bore everyone to tears. I’ll think about it. Is that good enough? Can a post be just one sentence and still count? That might be all I can come up with some days.Peer pressure. I’ve always been a sucker for it. I’m weak.

  2. I was never peer pressured (I was a huge nerd and huge out with huge nerds) but I will admit that I ALWAYS wanted to play spin the bottle (especially after watching the Full House episode with DJ’s birthday and the spin the bottle debacle). And I was just thinking about trying my hand at Nablapotoeowo or whatever it is, despite the fact that I kind of sick of my blog. Good luck!

  3. Okay fine, FINE! I caved and I signed up. I sent a request to be your friend. Please send me a friend request back. I’d hate to think I have no friends AND be signed up to write something every day for a month. Why does a month sound like FOREVER all of a sudden?

  4. Oh, yay, you’re joining the craziness, too! I think this is how I found you in the first place, through the NaBloPoMo randomizer last year.I am going to friend you, even though I don’t really know what it means to do that, what rules attach or what commitment is being asked. I friend everybody I recognize, and I say yes to just about everybody who tries to friend me.And I really, really hate using “friend” as a verb. But that’s because I’m old.

  5. NaBloPoMo. You are brave! I am not. I prefer to stay on the stress-free side of NaBloPoMo where I get to read entertaining entries from the likes of you.

  6. I already write every weekday, so I’m not about to give up my weekends too. I have to have SOME time to catch up on those seasons of “Gilmore Girls”. But I’m glad you are. Cause I like to read your posts!

  7. i confess: last year i was a pressure-er. this year, too. but it’s much easier to keep a commitment when all your peeps are in on it too. that’s my excuse and i’m sticking to it.

  8. no peer pressure for me! But I pretty much post everyday anyway, I gots lots to say! LOL. But I’m exciting to have more content from the every witty Pop Culture Librarian

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