Macking Out

Do you ever get really excited when someone else uses a word that secretly this whole time you've been wondering if it's a word? For example, one time I tried to tell my friend Chris that so and so was a total sexpot and he just stared at me like a Martian was waving out of my eyeball. It was a disappointing moment to realize that sexpot was not an actual word, and just something that my sisters had made up at some point and I had just permanently believed this was a real word. So, imagine my pure joy when SOTR (Sister of the Roomsicle) used the word MACKING. As in, "we were macking all the time."
I giggled in delight. My mother used to use that word! She would use it interchangeably with the wordless version (because in our household, macking was super dirty and couldn't be said), which was to spread her hand out, fingers splayed all over the place, and wave it gently back and forth. Like a really over-eager hello, except slower. That motion never really screamed "macking" to me, but whatever. I was in enough trouble over macking, I didn't want to get in more trouble pointing out that she was just waving hi, slowly.
So, let's talk about the first time Autumn got in trouble for macking. 


Let's set the scene. First grade. Walker Elementary. Heart of the Michigan Midwest, a small population grows up in the dust bowl of.... oh shit, wrong story. First grade. Pleasant Michigan town, if not a little run down. Kids with nothing to do, future full of life (or jail) ahead of them. Man, this is getting dramatic...
So in first grade, I had a super big crush on this little black boy. We would flirt all the time. All. The. Time. It's a wonder I learned how to read, I was so distracted flirting with him. And touching his little afro. A girl never forgets her first afro. 
One day, Little Boy and I decided that we wanted to take our relationship to the next step. Clearly, we should have a play date outside of school hours. I asked him to give me his address, so I could give it to my mom. And what did that little fucker do? 
He came back with his address, written in PENCIL on dark PURPLE construction paper. 


He might as well have written with sharpie on black construction paper. It was impossible to read. 
And I remember him handing it to me, and I stared down with total disgust and the only thought was, "What a dumb little shit. Doesn't he know you can't read pencil on purple?" And I was instantly disgusted by him, and no longer wanted to flirt with him. Because he was dumb, clearly. 
But, I still macked in the sandbox with him at recess even though I knew he was dumb as a rock. If that wasn't a foreshadowing for the rest of my life, I don't know what is... #SOML #SMH