A Career Woman and A Housewife

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Friday, February 25, 2005

Hell Week 2/28-3/04

I never really understood why schools and their organizations, groups, etc. alway put students through such hell. This "hell" I'm referring to is...dum dum dum.... tryout week! My sister is trying out for the varsity cheerleading squad next week. She has been a cheerleader for the last four years, and last year she was captain of her JV squad, but this year is different. Alex is good, I will give her that, but she is the youngest, trying out against a group of girls - all in grades above her. Forget SAT's, graduation, LSATS, Counselor Examinations, tryout week is the most stressful week of MY life. That's right people, I said "MY" life!

I remember those days when I was still in high school. Housewife, I, and our other fellow "danceliners," would spend one week each year, not doing homework, not socializing with friends, boyfriends, etc., but busting our freakin' ass, pulling muscles, and dancing our little hearts away for hours upon hours each day. We didn't eat. We didn't drink. No people, we danced. We would use the bathroom pass at synchronized times so we could all meet in the girl's restroom to go over routines. We used gym class to practice instead of dodgeball, crab soccer or some other stupid shit like that to "keep us active." We didn't need a gymnasium agenda girls and boys, we had Danceline Tryouts! Practice. Practice. Practice. And let me tell all those "special people" out there who feel that "practice makes perfect," um... YEAH RIGHT! All the anticipation of that week would lead up to 3 little minutes in the gym on that hardwood floor in front of four judges, whom may I mind you, never, NEVER, cracked a smile. We would march our little butts to the other side of the divider, throw ourselves on the ground after we just tried out and cry because we "messed up here, and then I messed up there, and then I did the kick all wrong there, did you see me point my toe, do you think I pointed my toe pointy enough." And then our friends would console us and say "I know you made it. I didn't make it, but I know you did. Do you think I made it? Nooo, I know I didn't make it. But you definately made it. You're so good and I'm not that good!" Then we were forced to pry our lips out of, yes, I said out of, our gum because it was stuck there (remember Shanana from Martin...yup, you get the picture) from the ridiculous fake smile we had to place on our dry, dehydrated face. This is what tryouts did to us. And you know what baffles me, you try to convince yourself that if you did not make the squad, everything would be okay. NO IT WON'T BE OKAY KIDS, ALRIGHT?! You're life is ruined, RUINED! Luckily, I have never had to experience that, THANK THE LORD. But I have experienced the anticipation, and panic attacks at the age of 14, 15, 16, and 17- heart monitors at this age are just not right!

So next week leads up to D-Day. No, I'm not trying out, remember I'm old, but my sister is. Here is a scenario for what it has looked like in my house during this week for the last three years. Alex is picked up by my mother at Cheerleading tryout practice. Sometimes I go for the ride if I have cancelled all graduate classes for the week, because we all know that cheerleading is much more important than an education. We fight the whole way home because my sister feels as though just because she is cute, skinny, built, and just got her nails done, it is not that important that she remember everything that happened during practice because she believes she has ADD. Mind you, she is saying this to her obsessive, compulsive, perfect, anxious ridden, mother and sister. We scream for 10 minutes and then we arrive home. Alex is "hungryyyy," so she eats and I, a.k.a., whom will now be referred to as Drill Sergeant, does not let her digest her food. No. No. No people. We do not eat during tryout week. So we cheer (mind you I was never a cheerleader, but no disrespect to any of you cheerleader's out there,... not that hard! Point those toes, high V, low V, buckets, daggers, say your vowels, and put on the damn show and Viola - Cheerleader in 3.3. seconds!) If she messes up once, she gets a kick. She messes up twice, Drill Sergeant screams in her face so bad that sometimes, just sometimes, spit comes out and lands on her forehead. She messes up three times, Jesus have pity on her soul because this is where the obsessive, compulsive, perfect, anxious ridden mother steps in and we are typically seperated and no kidding ya'll, I am SENT to my room to "calm down and collect myself."

So not only, why do schools torture their students, why do they torture their older sisters and mothers who have to live and try to survive through the week with them without mental institution hospitalization? The same obsessive, compulsive, anxious ridden mothers and sisters who WILL KILL the judges if their daughters or sisters do not make the squad. Tryouts are cut-throat people and I will slit your throat!

So this is what you have to look forward to next week as new and exciting entries. Not only do you have cheerleading posts to look forward to, but my 11 year old brother has to try out for AAU basketball the same week. Have pity on our household, and don't forget my dad and fiance who have to put up with us ALLLL week long! I'll keep ya'll updated as to the process and the outcome of each evening spent CHEERING. 23 years old and cheering like a motha-f*cker! - Just call me Major Payne...only I'm cuter! :) Wish us luck!

-Career Woman

10 Comments:

  • At 7:51 AM, Blogger Mirella said…

    Tryouts were the WORST. Especially when I was trying out junior year and I forgot the first two eight counts of the routine and I just stood their frozen while Angie and Janelle were like, "Nooooo! Do the routine!" I really did think I wasn't going to make it. How hard would it have sucked to not make the squad my senior year?

    My favorite year of tryouts was our senior year. The year we didn't have to tryout. The year we made up the routines and taught them to the girls and got to watch them as they tried out. That was enjoyable.

    As was putting 50 body rolls in the routines. Haaaaa!

     
  • At 8:05 AM, Blogger A Career Woman and A Housewife said…

    I still can not do those damn body rolls - at all! Nikki and I did some mad ass donkey kicks though! Payback was a bitch wasn't it?!

     
  • At 9:50 AM, Blogger Rachael said…

    I'm not built for the dance. Sounds like that might be a good thing :)

     
  • At 10:00 AM, Blogger Erin said…

    Oh! Cheerleading tryouts. I tried out for the dance team two years in a row and got cut, two years in a row because I actually did the kick at the completely wrong time!
    Then I tried out for cheerleading, and made it. But then I got cut from that after two years.
    But what was worse than actually getting cut was the fact that all my friends (who made the squad...again) came up to tell me how much I should have made and how the new girl didn't deserve it...and I had to try not to cry during classes.

    School is evil. Thats why I don't play sports...anymore. But I can still do all the tumbling, damnit!
    Wish your sister good luck for me!!

     
  • At 10:09 AM, Blogger A Career Woman and A Housewife said…

    Thanks Erin! It's nice to know that we aren't the only people who dread tryouts in this world. School and kids are rotten - why am I getting a Master's to work in one? ugh... eek.
    -Career Woman

     
  • At 12:01 PM, Blogger kpac4smiles said…

    Ah yes... the great week of tryouts. How well I still remember those "wonderful" weeks, or should I say how my family remembers those wonderful weeks! My family still comments about tryout week! The only difference between dance line tryouts and majorette tryouts is the practice space. You just can't throw a baton ANY where. During tryout week I sure thought I could! And because of the perfectionist, obsessive, wacked out, burned out, bruised, majorette monster that I would turn into, my family also went along with the theory that I could throw that baton up anywhere I wanted (out of fear of there own lives)! We have a cathedral ceiling in the family room and that was my practice place. We still have proof that I practiced in that area because of the huge dents in the T.V., shelves, end tables, etc. The night before our junior year tryouts for our senior year, I stayed up ALL night practicing my solo to "Can-Can". To this day, if anyone in my family hears that song, they cringe! But I HAD to defend my position and show Stacey Thompson that she COULD NOT (which, lol, turned out she was alternate.. oh boy... THE MEMORIES OF TRYOUTS!!!)be captain!

    Alissa~ I agree! Senior year tryouts were the greatest! I've never seen girls do that many three spins in my life! Maybe we should have been easier on them. Or not...

    Thank God that I will never have to deal with tryouts again!

    Morgan, Good Luck to your sister, I'm sure she'll be fine and make one hell of a Varsity Cheerleader! Doesn't seem like she should be that old though! My thoughts will be with you and your mom! Don't be too hard on her!

     
  • At 4:15 PM, Blogger A Career Woman and A Housewife said…

    Pure Hell! It was completely worth it to us back then, though. Nothing beats the feeling of having your name stated on the morning announcements the following Monday at school. "That's correct people, Morgan, Nikki and Alissa will shake their asses for you again next year!" You know they loved it!
    Only these days I can't imagine putting myself through that much stress for ANYTHING!
    -Housewife

     
  • At 8:00 AM, Blogger KyH said…

    Ah, cheerleading tryouts. I still don't know why I subjected myself to seven years of that. 7!?! And if you met me now, I'm probably one of the last people you would've expected to be a cheerleader for 7 years. Apparently gone are the days where they took all the girls that showed up, lol. But dammit, I stressed myself out & made it every year & I remember the morning announcements Nikki too. "Kylee is back for another year of serving the football players lunch & painting ugly signs". Anyway, good luck Alex!

     
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