Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Lydia vs. Mike Tyson

I recently saw the movie "The Hangover" again, for the tenth time.  In case you haven't seen it, the movie is about four friends getting hammered in Las Vegas, losing their best friend Doug, misplacing $80,000 and stealing Mike Tyson's tiger after breaking into his house.  And the one part that always cracks me up is the song that Stu sings.

Here's the song:

I have been snickering and singing that song since seeing the movie again, non-stop. It is even my ringtone right now. Because I have problems.  The Cap'n just sighed and rolled his eyes at me after the eleventy-thousandth rendering of the Tiger Song.  Then he said, "You know, you only like that song because you tried to break into Mike Tyson's house in high school and you just flailed around the front gate with Bridget and then drove away in her mom's car giggling."

Holy CROW.  I had forgotten about that!  It was 1990 and I was either a junior or a senior in high school (depending on if it was spring or fall).  My bestest and dearest friend had just moved to Bernardsville, NJ.  I  went to spend the weekend with her and in a fit of boredom, she suggested we go for a drive and look at his house. I was the genius who thought we should stop and knock on the door.

Why would two nice girls from the suburbs do such a thing?  Because before the whole rapist/wife beater/ear biting/violent felon/facial tattoos stuff - I had a real affinity for Mike Tyson.  Not in a gross or inappropriate way, but because my nickname the summer after 8th grade was Mike Tyson.  Because some random 8th grade twerp tried to stick his hand in my bathing suit at the community pool so I punched him in the face as hard as I could.  And he totally cried but tried to act like he didn't and all his friends thought that was hilarious and then they called me Mike Tyson for the next six weeks.  Maybe I thought I could tell The Champ that story and he'd be all (in his awesome voice) "That's great! You punched that kid?  I'm gonna call you Lil' Mike Tyson and we're gonna hang out and order a pizza!  Come on in!"

Yes.  Lil' Mike Tyson.  It would've been exactly like Lil' Jerry Seinfeld the fighting chicken, except that it would have been real and I was a person (not a chicken) and Mike Tyson never answered the damn door so we just drove away giggling and listening to Digital Underground.

Anyway, as of this weekend, I had completely forgotten all about my trip to Mike Tyson's house.  And the fact that Bridget took a picture of me banging on the gates.  The Cap'n had to remind me about that too.  I'm starting to think I have worm-holes in my brain.  How could I forget something so incredibly important and awesome? 

When I found the picture, there was a note on the back:

"This is a picture of Lydia attempting to break into the abode of one Mike Tyson, while I hide behind the car and take pictures like the wuss I am."

Here's the picture:

Please note what I am wearing in my attempt to break and enter:
  • a straw hat
  • a Laura Ashley shirt
  • LL Bean shorts
  • ankle socks
  • white suede bucks
When I sent a copy of this picture to Bridget, who had not seen it in 20 years (*gasp* - we are so old), her response was: "I can not believe that you wore that hat.  Yes, I realize that it was my hat but I can not believe that you chose to wear it in public."
So, yes.  I actually did try to drop by Mike Tyson's house in a manner that could be fairly categorized as "trespassing".  And no, I was not trying to steal his tiger because fortunately, I had no idea that such a possibility existed. And my antics clearly pre-date the movie "The Hangover" by more than 15 years, proving that I have always been a pioneering jackhole and have always had best friends who make superior fashion choices.
xo, Lydia
(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2010

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