Today we're gonna kick it like it's 1997 up in here because, oh, what a year it was. MMMM Bop was in full rotation, fighting the likes of The Spice Girls and that unmatchably annoying Barbie Girl song to stay on top of the charts. Ellen had come out of the closet. Mike Tyson bit that guy's ear off. And Celine Dion made us all want to gouge our eyes out because her heart kept going on and on and on and it felt like it was never going to fucking stop! Most girls were swarming to the movie theaters to see Titanic. But not me. I was going on my first date with Drew, a guy whose last name I should totally remember since I was completely obsessed with him, but I don't.

So, picture it: I'm 17. The only hair I hadn't shaved off were two strands in the front which were dyed electric purple. I don't remember exactly what I was wearing, but it's safe to bet that it was pretty bizarre (polite way of saying UGLY). And the jewelry - well, there was a lot of it. One piece, in particular, was a a gigantic star ring, encrusted with glitter, metal, and pointy, fake diamonds. (And I genuinely used to wonder why people always threw stuff at me.)

I got into Drew's old beat up car, whatever the hell it was, and he started driving to the pool hall because OHMYGOD! he had the second to the highest score on the Guns N' Roses pinball machine and he just HAD to get to number 1.

So, there we were, going on our classy first date, and I was feeling so shy and awkward because this guy was obviously the guy with whom every girl dreamed about going on a date. But then, out of nowhere, my silence was broken when the Metallica song, MASTER OF PUPPETS, came on the radio. This was already long after Metallica started sucking and walking around with Louis Vuitton bags, so I have no idea why I got SO overly excited, but I did. I'll just chalk it up to a mixture of nerves and raging teenage hormones.

I was so excited that I threw my arms up in the air in a fit of glee and attempted to say something like I LOVE THIS SONG!, but I never got the chance. My right hand was just a little bit too forceful and somehow I managed to overreach just a bit. My ring, the priceless gem encrusted $3.50 star, met with the window and all I remember was GLASS. SHATTERING. EVERYWHERE.

And then I froze. Because I was in a car with the hottest guy in the world. And I was covered in the glass of his passenger's side door which I shattered.

The music was still blaring, and he wouldn't even look over at me. I said something like "Ummmm, I'm really sorry about your window..." and he still wouldn't say anything. Finally, I asked him if he could pull over so that I could pull out the shards of glass that were digging into my thighs and ass. He said, and I quote, "FUCK YOU! You broke it! You're sitting in that shit until I park the car!"

And he was dead serious, he would not pull over. So, after using a plethora of four letter words, I hopped out of the car and a red light, and took the bus home.

A few weeks later, I heard that he told everyone that I slept with him that night and that I was so involved in the heat of passion, I broke the window. And a few hours after that, he heard about how I told every single girl in our grade about how small of a penis he had.

I know what you're thinking. You're totally jealous of me right now for having gone on THE BEST DATE EVER!

Rock Star Mommy still rocks out to pre-Black Metallica

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