The First Time I Publicly Cussed, A Confession

This was meant to be a story I took to the grave but 18 years have passed so the statute of limitations for this petty crime should have come and gone long ago.

In 2004 I was introduced to bodacious women. On my birthday, my mom and dad took me and 3 friends to the old Baderwood theater (now a Planet Fitness I donate $20/month to) for a matinee screening of The Incredibles. Brad Bird and Pixar Studios took Helen Parr, gave her dimensions that are now studied by med students in Rio de Janeiro, and turned me into a 9 year old "ass man," a notion that'd be reinforced by Mariah Carey's "Touch My Body" music video later into middle school.

Elastigirl's butternut squash hip figure wasn't the only thing corrupting my young mind at the time. My birthday present that year was a blue handheld CD Player and headphones. With that, I got to pick out two CD's at FYE with my mom's approval. She knew Kidz Bop from the commercials but she did not know the Black Eyed Peas. So with a copy of Kidz Bop 5 lead blocking like Mike Alstott at the goal line, I was able to sneak in a copy of Elephunk. And I only listened to two songs: "Hey Mama" and the original mix of Let's Get it Started.

One song would get my CD taken away, the other song would get my entire 4th grade class's Nintendo DS privileges taken away on our field trip to Lancaster.

I don't know what the Peas were looking to accomplish with that original release. Let's Get it Started (edited) wasn't released until almost a full year after the original album because ABC wanted to use it for their NBA playoff commercials. They had to compete with Roundball Rock and Heart of a Champion so someone walked into the ABC exec's office with an idea that needed a sliiiiiight bit of tweaking. Then it won a Grammy for Best Rap Performance.

But nah, that couldn't have been the original idea. Third song on the album, fire beat. Of course I'm gonna sing along. Laying on the couch one Sunday afternoon belting out for everyone to hear "Let's get reeeettaarrrrrr--" as my mom walks down the stairs. YOINK. There goes my Elephunk CD just a month after I got it and six months before I was gonna sneak Monkey Business between copies of Holes and Maniac Magee in my mom's shopping cart at Target.

Another issue was that my first big field trip was coming up soon. The 4th grade class was taking a coach bus for a lengthy 1 hour trip to Lancaster, rubbing it right in the face of people that can't use zippers. The hottest Christmas present that year was the Nintendo DS and the kids in the back of the bus were all gonna be using the new messaging feature that the separated itself head and shoulders above the GameBoy.

I knew I wasn't getting a Nintendo DS and I was fine with that as I'd already figured it'd only take 75 weeks to save up my $2 allowance and buy my own. Add another birthday in that mix, maybe GameStop gets one used/refurbished, and I was thinking down payment in less than 40 weeks if interest rates held in tact. But what wasn't going to be cool was showing up to our field trip with a CD player and nothing but 3 different editions of the Kidz Bop series burned from my aunt's Dell.

My mom has never been known to be the best at hiding things around the house. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to find my Christmas presents in the massive red & green tub sitting on top of our basement freezer. And it didn't take a bloodhound to track down my Elephunk CD among the stack of Harry Connick Jr. and Bryan Adams cassette tapes in our living room side table. Easy enough. Take it when I want to listen to it, put it back in its spot after. A real Indiana Jones-esque excursion.

The night before our big trip to meet the Amish, my move was made. I wasn't going to be bumping Sk8r Boi and Hey Ya! sung by my pre-pubescent peers. This bad boy was streaming will.i.am, Fergie, and apl.de.ap. 

Hey mama, it's that shit that makes you move

7:30 AM, wheels up to horse-drawn carriage country, pulling out of the parking lot before anyone else has showed up for school. Still a little dark out, just dark enough that I can't see the screen on my GameBoy Advance and fire up Kirby's Nightmare in Dreamland. Time to soak in the lyricism of Stacy Ann Ferguson and rhythm of Jamie Luis Gomez aka Taboo.

Mama, get on the floor and move your booty

10 AM and it's time to churn the butter. We file out of our bus and into the enormous Target parking lot that borders the property of an Amish family who originally opposed the construction of such a monstrosity until they realized how much they could decrease their candle budget as the red glow of a bulls-eye illuminated their living room every night.

We lined up like sardines into the cold, wooden kitchen of this family as the matriarch led a TED talk on the process of turning cream into butter all the way from milking the teet of a cow to spreading it on carrot cake as a holiday treat for their horses. There was no focus on the Land O Lakes lady. All the scuttlebutt was about the Nintendo DS DM's on the ride there. Two girls would snicker, our teacher would tell them to listen up. Two boys would chatter, our teacher would smack them in the back of the head. They received scornful looks from the woman leading the butter brigade but they had DS's so they were on the inside and that made me jealous.

Mama, we the blast masters blastin' up the jamma

To those outside the greater Philly area, Lancaster is almost exclusively known for their Amish and Mennonite populations. Everyone knows about barn raisings but few know about the high quality wicker chairs. Everyone knows about horses & buggies but few know about the puppy mills. There's a kingdom for kids in Dutch Wonderland, a highly-regarded educational institution in Franklin & Marshall, and the best mead breweries you'll find this side of the 1600's. But the true hidden gem of Lancaster county is the thick and salty sourdough pretzels and we were on our way to make some of our own.

The next stop was another 30 or so minute bus ride which meant that DS DM's were going to be buzzing. But without a device of my own I was on the outer circle with the kid who wiped his entire nose top to bottom with his hand every 15 seconds. Hey Mama ended and I pressed the rewind button to keep that shit on repeat as I tried to figure out a way to get in the group chat. It was as simple as offering a girl to trade her DS for my CD player for 5 minutes. Fourth Grade General Manager of the Year type negotiating.

REEEEEWIIIIIIND

Our bus rolls up to our destination as the scent of freshly baked sourdough surrounds the ugly scene of finger-pointing and name-blaming happening inside. 

"IT CAME FROM HER DS!" "BUT HE HAD IT!!!"

Our little Catholic school of 125 students had its first social media scandal and I sat at the middle of it, denying denying denying as the weight of my heavenly motivated conscious grew heavier and heavier.

Amidst the flurry of silly fourth grade messages, someone sent a few naughty words. Across the span of 5 minutes, someone, potentially influenced by the lyrics of William Adams, intertwined individual messages saying "shit" "fuck" and "booty" throughout the conversation. Apparently this content was a bit too adult for some nerd in the front of the bus who ratted and started a big mess that could've been avoided by acting like the grown-up 9 & 10 year olds we were.

Naturally the bratty blonde girl dimed me out within seconds of our teacher confronting the class on a silent coach bus sitting in the parking lot of a pretzel factory. 

"But I don't even have a DS" boom got 'em.
"He was using mine we traded" shit didn't see that coming.
"Nuh uh!!!" bad strategy.

It was tough to enjoy turning dough snakes into pretzels with a fold across, twist, fold down, press. I'd been blamed for the curse words and it was pretty obviously me despite but horrendous denial efforts. But at this point everyone's DS was in a bag on our teacher's bus seat regardless if I owned up to it or not. So while everyone sat for the hour ride home Nintendo-less, I took the time to listen to Elephunk start to finish for the first time discovering the beautiful tune "Where is the Love?"

This is the first I'm publicly acknowledging that I am, in fact, the one who sent the curse words through Nintendo DS chat on our fourth grade field trip to Lancaster. I could take the blame now, but truthfully I believe the Peas are at fault for influencing me. Beyond that, my mom bought me that CD so thanks mom, everyone was pissed at me for that whole bus ride home.