VETTED - verb ( vetted |vɛdəd|, vetting |vɛdɪŋ|) [ trans. ] to make a careful and critical examination of (something) : proposals for vetting large takeover bids. (often be vetted) Brit. investigate (someone) thoroughly, esp. in order to ensure that they are suitable for a job requiring secrecy, loyalty, or trustworthiness : each applicant will be vetted by police.
The political world has been awash this past week in the vetting - or lack thereof - of a recent vice presidential pick. Time will tell whether McCain's choice was a wise one, and whether the rabid enthusiasm coming off Palin's speech will carry through to November.
Anyway, this got me thinking about the whole vetting thing. When you're in the public eye, you really are better off laying it all out on the table to begin with, rather than holding back and having others find things you may or may not want them to know. And while I have zero interest in ever serving as someone's VP, I've decided to go ahead and vet myself. Call it "blogging confession" if you want. So here are some not-so-flattering things about me that you may or may not care to know:
1. When I was in second grade I cheated on a math test. I was using a small cardboard slide calculator that came out of a Trix cereal box. Don't ask me why it didn't occur to me that this was probably not such a great idea. I was enamored with the calculator (foreshadowing my later fascination with gadgets and gizmos, perhaps?) I remember my teacher very calmly walking to my desk, taking both the calculator and test away, and bringing me back a fresh copy. She didn't say a word. She didn't have to.
2. I really hurt my brother bad one time. We got in a fight and I pushed him up against the brick hearth of our living room fireplace. He started crying, but then he said he was bleeding - and I turned around to see that, sure enough, he was covered in blood. Apparently his head hit the edge of the brick hearth and opened up a nice little gash. I started freaking out and ran upstairs to get Mom, who came running downstairs and took care of him. I think he got stitches but I can't remember for sure. He's doing just fine, by the way.
3. I once broke up with a girl on....man, this is painful to say.....on her birthday. Yep, nice move, eh? It was a weird situation and things had not been right for a while. I couldn't get her to do anything on her birthday except cry on the phone - she wouldn't tell me what was wrong. I finally convinced her that we needed to meet and talk, which we did - for around two hours. The breakup was kind of a mutual thing, in a way, but......you know, there's really no good way to explain this. So I'm just going to stop here. Yep, I broke up with a girl on her birthday, and I feel rotten about it. I also had a girl break up with me once on New Year's Eve, so I guess it all balances out.
4. In junior high (remember when they called it that?) I was part of a group of guys who played a prank on this new kid who recently started attending our church youth group. We were on a weekend retreat and we did the classic "steal-their-underwear-and-run-it-under-tap-water-and-stick-it-in-the-freezer" prank - like so:
A couple of hours later the poor kid found his frozen underwear and had to thaw it out with a hair dryer. I felt bad enough to help him with it, which felt both good and kind of strange at the same time.
5. When I was 10 or 11 I blamed someone for something they didn't do (translation: I told a big fat lie). It was winter and I was playing in the woods across from our house; and there was a pond back there that was frozen over. I started walking on it (first mistake) and ended up falling through the ice. Somehow I managed to pull myself out and ran home, freezing. I was too embarrassed to admit to my parents what had happened, so on a whim I came up with an elaborate story about how the neighborhood bully had made me walk out on the ice against my will. Mom and Dad were furious, and Mom rushed to the phone to make a call to the bully's mom. I may have been stupid to walk out on that ice, but at least I had the common sense to stop her before she hit the last few digits and 'fess up.
6. I ran a stop sign just mere days after getting my license, much to the interest of the police officer hiding around the corner. To add a little drama to the whole affair, he pulled me right in front of my girlfriend's house. More than sweating the officer asking for my newly-minted license and registration, I was really nervous about my girlfriend's mother walking outside to get the morning paper and seeing my car awash in blue lights. Thankfully she didn't emerge.
So - there you have it. I'm fully vetted now - no surprises! At least none that I care to remember at the moment..... ;)
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