I starred in a health-class video…

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First Posted: 12/18/2014

I have held a lot of titles in my life: Bartender, kayak instructor, night-club light operator, reality TV star, son of a bitch and ‘bad boy’ in a health-class video. I’m just a babysitting gig away from having the resume of a Barbie doll.

While each adventurous job-title holds remnants of debauchery, regret, life experience and oddly enough, a different story of how I got a ride home in the trunk of a car, the memories of the aforementioned acting gig in a health-class video is one that will always be warm to my heart — warm with piss that is.

It was 1999; Sabrina was a teenage witch, Buffy was a vampire slayer, dial-up internet was a pain in the ass and I was in the eighth grade.

The only thing I remember about eighth grade is my health class; the cliche videos centered around the risk of contracting an STD — that nobody took seriously — and the project we were assigned.

“Everyone is getting split up into groups. Each group will write and star in a video about the risks of getting an STD. Next week, we will go in the auditorium and I will film them. Then we will watch our own health videos and see how much better your videos are,” said Mr. Pain Meds, my health teacher.

I don’t remember what my health video was about, but I do remember that I was wearing bright orange pants. Orange really was the new black in 1999.

When my group was next to perform, we sat backstage waiting for our turn. I remember I was sitting on top of a fold-able lunch table that had wheels on the bottom, hooked with intrigue at the skit of a 13-year old plopped in a wheelchair borrowed from the school nurse, pretending to be dying of AIDS, when a girl in my group pushed the table I was sitting on. Since the table had wheels, I went flying across the stage, crashing the dramatic moment.

Mr. Pain Meds kept rolling with the school’s VHS-video camera as I made an unwelcomed entrance in my bright orange pants.

I was about to crash into the wheelchair holding my classmate who was pretending to die as a result of unprotected sex before he even entered high school, so I jumped off. I immediately ran backstage, laughing uncontrollably.

In fact, I laughed so hard that I peed my pants.

My bright orange pants were not the best color to hide a wet piss-stain.

I immediately went to the principal’s office with my bookbag covering my crotch.

“I need to call my parents for a ride home,” I told my vice-principal.

“Why?” he asked, confused.

I removed my bookbag from the front of my crotch.

He instantly understood.

I was so embarrassed that I didn’t go to school for a week.

The day I returned, a kid named Kyle deliberately peed his pants so he could go home.

That week, a total of three students peed their pants so they could go home early.

Sorry, Mom and Dad, my weak bladder and love of laughter caused a truancy issue at my school in the late-90s.

However, that’s the day I realized that I was born to be a trend-setter.