It’s hard to believe — since I’m so old, and it’s such a common name — but I’m having trouble coming up with a personal Mary to tell you guys about. I know there are a lot of them out there, just not too many that have intersected with my ridiculous life.
I had a good friend in school whose mother was named Mary, and she comes immediately to mind. There was quite a bit of jackassery going on, and we all called our parents by their first names — behind their backs, of course. So, we’d say things like, “Is Mary home? Maybe we could watch the porn there?” or “Man, Mary’s gonna be PISSED when she finds out about this.” So, I heard her name a million times during my teen years, and she’s at the top of my Mary list.
Rocky and I also hijacked a “no alcohol” party during high school, hosted by a girl named Mary. I didn’t know her very well, but Rocky did. We arrived at this dullness jamboree, and found people playing board games and sipping Coca-Cola. Oh, this couldn’t stand…
We went to the beer store and made a large purchase, then started working the phones. Within 90 minutes the place was rocking, and beginning to tip toward crazy. Mary was nervous, because her parents had set down a strict set of rules, but wasn’t protesting too much. I think she was secretly liking how things were going with her party.
Then the evening took an ugly turn. Rocky got SMASHED, and began “acting out.” He wound-up and hurled a slice of pizza at a wall, for no apparent reason. It stuck there for a moment, and slid down in a wide greasy streak. Then he went upstairs to Mary’s room, and began rifling through her underwear drawer. I walked in on him, and he was throwing panties around the room, and rubbing them on his face. WTF? Later, he took a great arcing rainbow piss off the deck, attempting to hit a gaggle of nerds standing in the backyard.
There were other shenanigans that night, including a lady’s wig in the toilet that was peed on over and over again, but it’s all very fuzzy in my mind. The parents came home while we were still there, and it was like a scene out of Animal House as they walked through the front door. Molly Hatchet was blaring, people were making out, there was a raucous game of Quarters underway in the kitchen, and beer cans were everywhere…
I think I was grounded for a week, and Rocky received a much stiffer sentence — something like a month. Mary’s parents were furious about him peeing off the deck. Why they seized on that particular action, I don’t know. But it had been one hell of a party reclamation project. We should’ve been offered a TV show, called Party Rescue, based on that evening.
Mary obviously protected herself, and blamed it all on us. Which is fine; it goes with the territory. But she came up to me in school a day or so later, and kinda-sorta thanked me. Her party was the talk of Dunbar High.
And those are the only two Marys that come immediately to mind. What about you? Please share your stories of Mary in the comments section below.
And I’ll see you guys again tomorrow.
Have a great day!
Don’t know a Mary? What about a Susan? Or a Mike?
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I was recalling that story when I was watching an episode of The Wonder Years recently. It’s the one where Kevin’s parents go out of town and he ends up having a big party.
My most favorite aunt of all is Aunt Mary. She lives in Texas now so I rarely get to see her but she’s always in my thoughts.
A co-worker Mary who is pretty cool.
My sister is technically Mary Grace (or Marygrace) but when my mother registered her for school, some prune faced bitch snapped at my mother “Is it Mary or Grace? It can’t be both” and my mother, who suffers no fools, made a decision on a dime and snapped right back “It’s Marygrace”.
Mary in grammar school whose birthday was Christmas Day so her mom always threw a party December 26 that my mother forced me to go. “How would you like it if nobody came to your party?” was her guilt trip because who wants to go to a party the day after Christmas? I wanted to stay home and play with my loot. But, it always worked out because she’d send me home loaded with candy, prizes and cake. One year I was the only kid who showed. Poor Mary.
I’m a decade older than Jeff, and there were so many Marys around when I was growing up, you couldn’t take a healthy piss without hitting one, if that’s your idea of a good time. They must have all died off, because I don’t run into anybody my age named Mary any more.
Mostly, I remember the Seattle Coliseum, late 1967 or early 1968, sitting in the front row of the overhang balcony, about 80 feet from the stage. . .
After all the jacks are in their boxes
And the clowns have all gone to bed
You can hear happiness staggering on down the street
Footprints dressed in red
.
The solo in that song is just devastating, and Hendrix played it note for note, distortion for distortion, probably just to show he could.
John
Jesus, I’m sorry. After the last batch of comments I guess this is supposed to be the place where I say, “bless his heart”, since he checked out three years later. I can do that, but not with a straight face.
j
That’s only mandatory if you’re in the South.
Who would be a poor man
A beggar man, a thief
If he had a rich man in his hand?
And who would steal the candy
From a laughing baby’s mouth
If he could take it from the money man?
New Haven Arena (small hockey venue), freshman year, October, 1971. Ian Anderson was/is genius.
And now the old guys will return you to your regularly-schedule (and less obscure) Mary reminiscences .
-Dude
I have a first cousin named Mary. I can’t think of any others, none from school or work and certainly never dated a Mary.
I’ve known lots of Marys and all of them have been cool. One even agreed to sleep with me, and more than once…
My Mom was Mary.
Does Merry count?
The little dude that hangs out with Pippin?
I had a ladyfriend back in college named Mary. From her FB page, I get the impression she works as a dominatrix now. As I recall it now, she was always a little weird about sex.
Yeah, my alcoholic sister.
i have a mary relative (by marriage) who bought a free range turkey for thanksgiving. she didn’t know you were supposed to remove the gizzard and crop before roasting. when she made the gravy, it was full of crickets, grasshoppers and little stones. nobody ate much except for potatoes and corn.
I went to high school with an honest-to-god cross eyed Mary.
LMAO! I was waiting for a little Tull to get incorporated into this thread.
Well done!
I know a young lady in her 20s named Mary. The name does not really fit her.
Matriarch of a weird little family that runs a roadhouse-type place out in the middle of nowhere where I live. It’s a place straight out of a David Lynch movie and Mary fits right in.
Mary….name of a girl I dated. She’s a good person.
Mary….name of a former co-worker. She’s nuts.
Mary…name of a relative. She’s nuts.
In conclusion, it’s a fact that 2 out of 3 people named Mary are nuts.
I know a Mary from a former life of debauchery (not crime)… Evidently she did not change and instead upped the ante as I just found out she was arrested for embezzling from a church.
Many moons ago I dated a girl named Mary
Mary Moon ,
Vegan…
I did years & years worth of work on my family genealogy. I have at least 75+ women combined on both my mother & father’s side going back 150 years.
That being said my maternal grandma Mary was one of my favorite people in the world.
I wish I could go back in time for one day & meet my x2 paternal great grandmother Mary Buettner (Buttner with the umlaut) . She is my family hero, she traveled over to “Golden America” from Bavaria in 1883… She and x2 great- grandfather Anton Rueth (Ruth with the umlaut) came over from the same tiny village outside of Frankfort and they married here shortly after arriving in Cleveland Ohio… She had 5 of 6 children survive to go on to have huge families of their own in Ohio & 2 of children moved to San Diego in the late 1890’s… Anton & Mary’s legacy live on through so many girls named Mary in her honor. (Edward from his name Americanized. My dad is Edward III)
I know Buettners whose family came from Germany via Ohio. You are probably related.
In my family, having the first name Mary means that you die young. That name gives me the creeps.
Aunt Mary – My mothers’ aunt. Nosy, racist, and controlling of her daughter (who is a 51 year old saint) and permissive and indulgent with her son (48 year old fuckup).
Friend-of-a-friend Mary, who has some legitimate mental health issues but also acts batshit crazy for the fun of it. I attended the friends’ graduation ceremony with Mary and another gal, and friend pulled the two of us aside when Mary was in the bathroom and told us, “If she starts having a seizure during the ceremony, don’t worry and don’t let anyone help her. She fakes them.” Luckily that day she decided not to do so.
When my kids were 4, 2 and newborn my mom was diagnosed with cancer. She lived 13 months. During that time a retired woman from church named Mary watched my kids while I helped my mom. She has stuck with us now for the last 23 years and she is great! She went to all the kids school programs and has done all the “Grandma” things in their lives, stuff the kids paternal Grandma wouldn’t do. She was in the front row with a corsage and smile on at all their weddings. Best Grandma ever.
I had no less the 4 Mary’s in my class & 1 named Merry. The Mary’s were all nerdy church going virgin saints & the solo Merry was an “Amazon” so she had no choice in the matter. Now Mary in the class under mine was a different story. Our birthdays were on the same day & one day in late April 1977 Mary gave me a very “special” birthday gift. ( ; ) If you know what I mean!
I am old and know lots of Marys. The last one I met has ruined the name for me. This Mary was sending a man in Nigeria money all the time. I think it was over $80,000.00 the last I knew. She is a widow raising her grandchildren. She adopted three girls, twins 7, and another 5. All three had been raped by their father who did prison time. She got these girls and immediately put them on a diet and refused to let them cut their hair, made to wear only skirts and little caps even for bike riding. They did not get any candy or sweets for two years. She was going to “cure” them with religion and converted and wore plain clothing to help the girls. The girls turned to having sex in the closet. They are now in their thirties and still have sex with each other. I suppose it was the only fun the girls ever had after being adopted by Mary.
Mary is the nastiest person I know. She did not know how to raise her grandchildren and asked me to help, paid of course, a nanny. Mary sat in her recliner for six hours at a time with 3 and 4 year olds roaming the house and eating anything they could find. She did not cook. The refrigerator had a lock. And these two children began experimenting with each other.
She bought three upright freezers and two more refrigerators for a total of three refrigerators. She got free food for the “poor widowed grandmother who had to raise the grandchildren from the druggie parents.” Then, she let the food rot. She had 14 dozen eggs in the refrigerator, all free. I threw out full dozens, all rotten. She refused to allow me a dozen eggs because “those are mine.” Boxes of produce grew mold.
She lived in a huge beautiful home that she never cleaned. She rarely showered. Since she ate several quarts of bought chocolate pudding every day, I never knew if it was poop or chocolate under her fingernails. He commode was smeared with poop. The kids bathroom had no toilet paper or hand soap or towels. Her bathroom had no hand soap either. I peed in the extra, locked bathroom because I could not deal with the other two.
She would be backing out of the driveway and called the doctor’s office and told them she was almost there, that there was an accident that delayed her. The grandchildren heard all this.
The children were not toilet-trained. I had to listen to them screaming about burning and itching when they peed in their pants while in their car seats. Finally, I asked for permission to toilet train them.
Mary is a nurse who researched mental illness in children and then told the doctors and psychiatrists about those symptoms in her grandchildren and had them put on all sorts of medications.
She hired me to spend 12 days at her house before, during, and after she had lap band surgery. Then, she refused to pay me for the last part of my stay. She agreed beforehand to pay me $150/day. and offered me food for the pay as I was about to leave for my home. I called once to collect my money since she did not pay me at the “first of the month” as she promised. I was threatened with telephone harassment charges and arrest by her thug son-in-law.
Okay, I could write a book, but she is absolutely the most immoral person I know.
This post was dated the 16th. Why did it only show up on the 18th?
The only Mary I know has been a thorn in my side for years. She is an ex of my boyfriend. She’s an annoying, beer guzzling obnoxious loud mouth. With a full bar and loud music, her voice shrills above it all.
Once we started seeing each other, she suddenly had a case of “don’t miss the water til the well runs dry”.
Long story short. ….when she followed my boyfriend into the bar bathroom, I literally drug her out by her hair. After that, she calmed down and stayed away. She finally got a life and a new boyfriend. That was 7 years ago. I’m too old for this shit.
…I don’t really ever want to meet a Mary…