Gillette, Wyoming, Part I
I grew up in Beaumont, Texas. I spent my last two years of high school and all of my college years in South Carolina. The lost years in between were spent in Gillette, Wyoming, and they were pretty weak. It’s easy for anyone to imagine how bad it sucked living in Wyoming. Just imagine living where you live now, but also imagine that you’re on fire and that zombies are currently eating your brain.
If Wisconsin is the heart of America, Wyoming is America’s sweaty ballsack. The town of Gillette was strange because it wasn’t backwoods, country, Western, country-western, or Midwestern. In fact, it was extremely progressive and clean. The thing that made Gillette so surreal was that it was completely out of touch with the rest of the country. It was out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing. It played by it’s own rules, and to my knowledge, very few people have ever made it out, which…holy shit…makes it just one Tina Turner and retarded man with a midget in a backpack away from being Bardertown.
Gillette is tied with the first-place spot on the winner's podium at the World Alter-Boy Ballet Championships as the last place a 14-year-old boy should be. The closest shopping malls were two and a half hours away in opposite directions. Even those towns were about the size of Pineville, for you NC readers. The closest "big" city was Cheyenne, and that was six hours away and half the size of Charlotte. If I remember correctly there were about 8 high schools in the entire state so when we played sports every game was an overnight trip.
A pretty douchey comparison can be drawn between Gillette’s geographical isolation and my time in Gillette’s isolation from the rest of my psyche. I learned nothing in those three years, found out nothing about myself, did nothing memorable, and I don’t keep in touch with anyone. All I took out of Wyoming was a kick-ass jump-shot which I don’t have anymore and a huge tolerance for pretentiousness which I don’t have anymore, either. As far as my "lore" is concerned, I never even lived there. It’s part of the Director’s Cut of the movie of my life, but my scenes in Gillette would definitely be left on the cutting room floor for the theatrical release.
If there’s one thing I remember about my Wyoming high school, it’s that the guys were assholes and the girls…were…bitches. My friend Cassidy summed up this point, and this entire article, with one sentence, "Do you know why you shouldn’t sweat that girl? Because she sucks. Alright, so she’s hot—but she’s hot in Gillette, Wyoming." After that, Cassidy made me put him in a backpack and run through the woods while he taught me about the force.
With that, let’s meet me, circa 9th grade. If you’ll look slightly below this sentence you’ll meet the star of the show:
In 9th grade I liked hair product, white shorts, and not much else. I have no idea what Chris and I were discussing right here, but it probably had something to do with which Saved By The Bell chick we’d bone first and the things we’d call her while doing so.
Also, notice how I'm wearing shorts and a t-shirt and that girl a few seats ahead of me is wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. That's because it's very possible that by the end of the day, the entire school would be buried in snow. This picture was taken in June, but that means fuck all. In Wyoming, you respect Mother Nature.
I don’t have a picture of our Wyoming house, but I remember it was huge and it cost my parents just over $100,000. That sounds like a kick-ass deal, until you learn that for 250 miles in every direction we were surrounded by this:
Plus, I’m pretty sure this was out there somewhere, too:
That was our family dog, Beau. Remember that movie The Beastmaster? I don’t think even he could’ve got Beau to stop shitting on the carpet.
I was on the swim team in 9th grade, which means it’s very possible that there are pictures out there of me in a speedo. Instead, I decided to post this photo of me cautiously backing away as our trainer is eaten alive by his hair:
The one cool thing about Wyoming was that we were so close to Deadwood, S.D.—a town based on the hit HBO series. It kicks ass because a few of the actual buildings were preserved. They’re all casinos now, making Deadwood a Wild West Vegas. It’s as awesome as it sounds.
If Wisconsin is the heart of America, Wyoming is America’s sweaty ballsack. The town of Gillette was strange because it wasn’t backwoods, country, Western, country-western, or Midwestern. In fact, it was extremely progressive and clean. The thing that made Gillette so surreal was that it was completely out of touch with the rest of the country. It was out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing. It played by it’s own rules, and to my knowledge, very few people have ever made it out, which…holy shit…makes it just one Tina Turner and retarded man with a midget in a backpack away from being Bardertown.
Gillette is tied with the first-place spot on the winner's podium at the World Alter-Boy Ballet Championships as the last place a 14-year-old boy should be. The closest shopping malls were two and a half hours away in opposite directions. Even those towns were about the size of Pineville, for you NC readers. The closest "big" city was Cheyenne, and that was six hours away and half the size of Charlotte. If I remember correctly there were about 8 high schools in the entire state so when we played sports every game was an overnight trip.
A pretty douchey comparison can be drawn between Gillette’s geographical isolation and my time in Gillette’s isolation from the rest of my psyche. I learned nothing in those three years, found out nothing about myself, did nothing memorable, and I don’t keep in touch with anyone. All I took out of Wyoming was a kick-ass jump-shot which I don’t have anymore and a huge tolerance for pretentiousness which I don’t have anymore, either. As far as my "lore" is concerned, I never even lived there. It’s part of the Director’s Cut of the movie of my life, but my scenes in Gillette would definitely be left on the cutting room floor for the theatrical release.
If there’s one thing I remember about my Wyoming high school, it’s that the guys were assholes and the girls…were…bitches. My friend Cassidy summed up this point, and this entire article, with one sentence, "Do you know why you shouldn’t sweat that girl? Because she sucks. Alright, so she’s hot—but she’s hot in Gillette, Wyoming." After that, Cassidy made me put him in a backpack and run through the woods while he taught me about the force.
With that, let’s meet me, circa 9th grade. If you’ll look slightly below this sentence you’ll meet the star of the show:
In 9th grade I liked hair product, white shorts, and not much else. I have no idea what Chris and I were discussing right here, but it probably had something to do with which Saved By The Bell chick we’d bone first and the things we’d call her while doing so.
Also, notice how I'm wearing shorts and a t-shirt and that girl a few seats ahead of me is wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. That's because it's very possible that by the end of the day, the entire school would be buried in snow. This picture was taken in June, but that means fuck all. In Wyoming, you respect Mother Nature.
I don’t have a picture of our Wyoming house, but I remember it was huge and it cost my parents just over $100,000. That sounds like a kick-ass deal, until you learn that for 250 miles in every direction we were surrounded by this:
Plus, I’m pretty sure this was out there somewhere, too:
That was our family dog, Beau. Remember that movie The Beastmaster? I don’t think even he could’ve got Beau to stop shitting on the carpet.
I was on the swim team in 9th grade, which means it’s very possible that there are pictures out there of me in a speedo. Instead, I decided to post this photo of me cautiously backing away as our trainer is eaten alive by his hair:
The one cool thing about Wyoming was that we were so close to Deadwood, S.D.—a town based on the hit HBO series. It kicks ass because a few of the actual buildings were preserved. They’re all casinos now, making Deadwood a Wild West Vegas. It’s as awesome as it sounds.
posted by Mike at
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
5 Comments:
You’ve been in all 10 spaces on my hot list for like two months now. I’m just scared to post it, because if I did, next week’s cold list would be filled with things like “working,” “breathing,” and “eating without the use of an IV and a government-appointed handler.”
I was a teacher at SVJH. What years were you in school there and which one did you attend? I'm dying to know who your teachers were. Thankfully my husband and I made it out of there and on to better things...
If you are typed that comment from a P.O.W. camp in between cane lashing sessions I'd still say you moved on to better things. I was there from 91-93. I probably shouldn't name my teachers, but I think a Web site this insane is a perfect testament to what the Gillette school system will do to a guy's psyche. Drop me an email at monzitta16@hotmail.com. I'd love to hear from you.
Hello from someone who MADE IT OUT OF GILLETTE. Enjoyed all our years of me swimming and watching you dive at the aquatic center. SVJH, Camels camels hump hump hump. Great site- all the best.
Pretty silly comment--the per capita crime rate of Gillette is comparable with some place like Houston. Gilliette is also the nation's meth captial.
And not only is the winter weather miserable, the summer highs often exceed South Texas
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