Only my parents knew about this. If my brothers suspected, they’ve never told me. So, my last post, that meme thing, I mentioned that Blackjack sent me to an anger management class. Here’s what’s behind that.

Back in my junior year of high school, it was an annoying year, class-wise. For some unknown reason, I kept getting stuck into these extracurricular classes that I saw no need for. Drama (which was actually kind of cool, until the teacher kept bugging me to fill out scholarship forms), Home Ec (I sewed a skirt and burnt a quiche), Psychology (now that was a cool class!) and finally, Child Development. Back then, I’d pretty much decided not to have kids. Especially after I saw that Swiss made movie in Sex Ed that was of a woman giving birth. To this day, I cannot figure out why all the girls were going, “Awww, how wonderful!” I was with the boys, cringing and getting grossed out.

Seeing as how I really didn’t need Child Development, I decided to not do any of the homework. I didn’t really pay too much attention, either. There was a small group of us who weren’t paying attention. The teacher didn’t pay attention to us. Having to attend a class where you’re not listening to the lecture and so on, you need something to do. We started with Hangman, but I kept thinking up words the other girls didn’t know. It was when one of the girls brought in a miniature set of playing cards that we began to play Blackjack. There’s no way we would have gotten away with that activity if the teacher was paying us any mind.

So, we played Blackjack for fun for a few days, and then we decided we’d play for money. We couldn’t bring in coins, since that would be a bit too noisy and go against the unwritten rule that we not disturb the lecture. So, we bet on paper.

Now, I cheat. I cheat at card games, board games, video games, etc. I cheat because I absolutely hate losing. I cannot keep my temper, and I strike out. I hit. My brothers probably remember a few tantrums when I lost a hand of War. Or, they might recall catching me cheating. The only person I never cheated in front of was dad. Just wasn’t smart.

As the girls in our small group of future delinquent moms, I was designated dealer. Never let a cheater deal the cards! Of course, they didn’t know I’d cheat, and back then I’d gotten rather good at stacking the deck, or dealing from the bottom. Needless to say, I won quite a bit. You’re not a good cheater if you win every single, damned time!!

Nothing lasts forever, though, and we Blackjack players were “caught” and sent to the principal’s office. It was all well and good. Mostly, “you shouldn’t” and “no senior trip”. It was fine until one of the nitwits confessed we were gambling, not just playing card games.

I blew up at that point, shouting like a mad fishwife at my cohorts in crime, and at the principal. I was headed for some extra study hall aka detention, but then the school counselor, who was a particular d***head who had no fondness for my dad, piped in. I said a bunch of things using words that would be familiar to a longshoreman, when the principal, who was behind me at that point, touched my shoulder.

A side note: I hate having the back of my neck touched, or people coming up behind me. I react instinctively, with fists flying. A guy who was trying to flirt with me, wound up with a black eye when he got the dumb idea that it would be sweet if he snuck up behind me and startled me.

So, fists flying as usual, the principal got a backhanded fist to his gut.

Anger Management Class.

It was a one day deal that I was escorted to during a school day. It actually wasn’t a bad class and it was interesting to meet people that had a temper like I had.

My temper is much more mellow these days. One of the positives of my hysterectomy. When I do fly off the handle, it’s usually panic induced. My panic meds help a great deal. Despite that, it’s still not a good idea to sneak up behind me.