"Girls suck!"

I guess that's not the worst thing a girl could hear on her way to work.

When I was 19 years old I broke into a little dinner theatre in West Yellowstone, Montana with my best friend, Tawnya. I guess, technically, I didn't make it all the way in. While I was gearing up to climb through the window, "HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE?"
"Um, nothing," I panicked.
"WHERE'S YOUR FRIEND?!"
I could hear Tawnya breathing. "Oh, she just went into the bar over there to go to the bathroom."
"WELL WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING BACK HERE?" He was growing impatient and I could see the corner of his shiny badge.
I took a deep breath and smiled. "Oh, yeah...she and her boyfriend are having some problems, so we just thought we'd get away from the bar for a second. It's this guy she met in Bozeman...see, she's a pre-law and there was this conference..." I didn't know where any of this was coming from. It spilled out like I had been possessed. Tawnya wasn't "pre-law." She had just graduated from highschool. Neither of us had ever been to Bozeman or a bar. We thought it would be fun to try to break into the Playmill because we had crushes on two very gay actors there. Oh, if only I could have a prop hat or that lasso he used in Shenandoah...then my life would be complete. When you're 19, you think very stupid things. "...anyway, so he was talking to this girl and yadda yadda yadda--"
"OK, OK.... WELL, JUST DON'T STAY BACK HERE TO LONG" he interrupted. With that, he left. Tawnya waited a full 20 minutes before crawling out of the window just in case.
Being able to talk myself out of even the deepest of shit is both a gift and a curse.