under the influence vol. 1: in every generation…

New series: Under the Influence. It’s all about me and my ridiculously easily manipulated and influenced little mind. Looking back on my life so far, some of my best stories derive from inability to be satisfied with my boring little life, and, therefore,  I would hole up in the solace of my…imagination? denial?

Are you confused? It will all start making sense. Read on. But know: I am digging these embarrassing stories up much to my ego’s chagrin. So be gentle in your judgements!

Scene: Suburbia, New Jersey. Me: 7 or 8 and completely impressionable. Basement of my grandmother’s house. Watching: Buffy the Vampire Slayer.


2nd grade was a time of revelations for me. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was in its 1st season and I had found myself completely and utterly obsessed with Sarah Michelle Gellar. I wanted to talk like her, I wanted to look like her, I wanted to be her. And the show…the show was so incredibly kickass and unlike anything I had ever watched before. I began to emulate her. If there was an episode with her wearing white nail polish, then I made my mother buy me white nail polish. If she had a troll pencil topper, then I got a troll pencil topper. If she wore those big chunky rectangle rings that she did all the time, I went out and found those big chunky rectangle rings for my fingers. But the craziness didn’t stop there…

Now, I won’t lie. The whole slayer thing intrigued me. Girl kicking ass while coming face to face with the immortal? Score! It was dark! It was exciting! It was liberating! But, unfortunately, for me, it was all fake. But I didn’t care. I wanted to be a vampire slayer! So what did I do? I told my 2nd grade best friend, Jennie, that ::cough cough:: … I was the…the, um…well…the slayer.

“No, Jennie, really though. You can’t tell. I’m putting you in danger by even telling you. But you’re my best friend and I feel it’s only fair if you know.”

“Like the show?”

I scowl. “No, like my life! That’s all Hollywood stuff. Jennie, I put my life on the line every night. I don’t get paid for this.”

The tire climbing thing looked similar to this

For one fucked up reason or the other, Jennie believed me. We would spend our recess hours kicking the crap out of this jungle gym climbing aparatus made of old tires. I called it, “training,” just like on the show. “You have to use the top of your foot when you kick,” I would pant between “roundhouse” kicks to the ebony rubber. One day, Jennie’s friend Kevin wanted to know what we were doing and if he could play, too. I immediately took Jennie aside and said, “Look, if he knows, then everyone will know. I can’t put the human race at risk. I can’t even tell my mom…” She turned Kevin away, and we continued to deliver the blow by blow to the tires.

But, alas. The fun couldn’t last forever. The last episode of the first season of BtVS aired. It was the episode where she meets the vampire maker, the MASTER. Giles, her watcher, tells her that, if faced with the Master, she will not live. But she did. She died, but then Xander saved her, yadda yadda, Sunnydale’s safe again. Going to school the next day, I knew exactly how to play this one. I put on the meloncholy face, acted all agitated, and wouldn’t talk to anyone until Jennie asked me, “What’s wrong?” HA! What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Jennie, you are eating from the palm of my slayer hand! I turned to her and said:

“I have to face the Master tonight. I probably won’t live.”

“The master?”

“He is the head of all the vampires. The strongest one. I’ll never get to go to prom…”

Shit. Maybe I had gone to far. The look in her eyes was not of the wonder and awe it had always been before when I would divulge the dangers of the dark. Now she looked unimpressed. She put her hands on her hips and said, “That sounds an awful lot like last night’s episode of Buffy.”

Okay, so I went into “Slayer, meet Master” form too soon. The jig was up. She had me. I walked away. She never said another word about it until next year, 3rd grade, when we bumped into each other in the bathroom. We were in different classes and had new sets of friends (i.e. she was friends with the cool people and I was friends with the nerds). She walked up to me at the sink and said (IN FRONT OF HER cReW!!!!), “Remember last year when you told me you were the slayer?”  She laughed, and, almost in cue, so did her cronies. They exited. There I was. All alone with no best friend and no vampires to slay.


That was the end of my BtVSinfluence overdrive. I still watched the show, still tried to mimic her outfits/speech/hair. I just, you know, didn’t go around telling people I was the show.


~ by angiesyounglover on May 3, 2009.

3 Responses to “under the influence vol. 1: in every generation…”

  1. Ha ha, that is an awesome story! I love that you were so imaginative!

    Also, this post makes me feel so old, cause I was a freshman in college when this show came on. Oy! :)

  2. Gah. I was an all-the-way grown up person of 28 when Buffy started.

    When I was in third grade, Debra Benson and I played “Electra Woman and Dyna Girl.”

  3. I was all about the She-Ra. I had a dress up set, with the mask, arm bands, sword and shield. I thought I was the shit.

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