I went through a lot of stages. I tried to rebel my freshmen year when my parents wouldn't let me date or ride in cars with teenagers. But my rebellion was pretty pitiful. It mostly involved dramatically rolling around on the floor and occasionally staying on AOL longer than I was allowed to. Not that the fellas were lining up outside my door, anyways. When I was finally allowed to date, sophomore year, I came bursting out of my house with my arms in the air ready for whoever would have me. The only person there was the 50 year old man in a Notre Dame jacket we had twice caught staring in my window. I tried to get him to be my boyfriend, but he took off running and covering his face like he always does.
That year I went through my judgmental christian phase. I told on a friend in my youth group for drinking. I told on another friend for going out to lunch. I told one of my friend's mom's that her boyfriend was mean to her. I told one of my other friend's moms where she had escaped to so she could call the cops and have her picked up when she was grounded. It has been 14 years since I sucked this bad but these friends STILL bring up how much they hated my virtues in 1999.
I have never told anyone this, that's how much I like being liked. You will all hate me. This is by far the lamest thing anyone has ever done.
When I went to my youth group studies, we always had to bring our bible. We were all provided with the teenage bible. (There's an insert in the middle that says "Why the bible says I shouldn't have oral sex" and "Why the bible says I should abstain from the reefer"). Even when I was a finger-pointing and penis-avoiding judgmental christian I still didn't read my bible like I was supposed to. I started noticing the really good kids at church had bibles that were beat up. I needed to catch up.
I ran over my bible with my car. I promise. Then I put sticky notes all throughout pages and bent them and smeared them with dirty hands so they looked worn-out from all my solo prayer sessions. I got a highlighter and went through and highlighted random things. I bent pages and tore a few of them out, then stuffed them back in with tape. Then I put it on the back porch to let the sun beat it up a little bit more.
This is the WORST part. After I did all this, I intentionally went and found my brother. At 11 months older than me, he was also in the youth group and therefore valid competition for the "who has the biggest Jesus-loving muscle" competition.
Mary: Your bible sure is in tip-top form, you obviously haven't been reading it very much.
Matthew: I read my bible all the time, I just take care of my stuff.
Mary: My bible is so torn up because I study the shit out of it.
Matthew: I mean, mine has highlights and stuff but....why are we talking about this?
Mary: (produces bible and shoves in Matthew's not-as-christian face)
Matthew: Are those tire marks?