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From the very moment I was born, I've always had a weird fascination with Weezer.
I did not have an easy life growing up. I was constantly beaten by my father and his wife and his wife's wife. We were a very fucked up family. I was terrified. I was never able to tell when my next beating would come and how severe it would be. My only comfort through these troubling times were the glorious works of Rivers Cuomo. From the tragic, yet hilarious 'In The Garage' to the personal and emotional 'Pink Triangle', Weezer was my only way to survive through the hell that was my childhood.
It was fine, I was happy as long as I had Weezer, until one day my dad got into a fight with his wife, his wife's wife, his wife's wife's uncle and his dog. He ended up slipping over an inconveniently placed banana peel and falling in a way that caused him to smack me in the face in front of the neighbours, who were quick to call child protective services.
I was taken away from the spilled box of LEGO I called a family and sent to an orphanage. From there things got worse.
I was treated terribly in the orphanage because my family was "held together by spit and bandaids." Which, itself wouldn't be too bad if the orphanage didn't have a strict "NO WEEZER" policy, causing me to be miserable.
They didn't care I was miserable. In fact they liked it. They would kick me, spit on me, throw hammers at my face, all while calling me some variation of "Mary-Tyler Moore."
By the time each day was over I would look like I dipped my face in a vat of acid.
Each night I would cry myself to sleep, quietly whimpering the lyrics to the hit song "Beverly Hills", hoping none of the other children would hear and report me to the staff who would then spit on my eyes for disobeying the anti-Weezer policy.
Each day was harder, but I got used to the constant harassment. Eventually I stopped being able to show emotion altogether, becoming a husk of the Weezer fan I once was.
I watched kids come and go, being brought in and adopted so much to the point where there was an entirely new group of kids who continued the bullying. No parents ever took me though. Why? Because a quick glance at my file would tell them everything they need to know. "Unusual obsession with Weezer..."
I lived there for 4 years. Experiencing the same thing everyday, until the age of 13 when it finally happened. The happiest day of my life.
Parents came in, hoping to adopt children, as is the usual. All of them disgusted by that little section in my file. Except for one.
I heard my name called by one of the women who worked there. "Mary!" Was not my name, but what I started being known as. I decided to accept it.
I hesitantly got up and pushed passed the kids who were punching my legs, slowly stumbling into the office.
What I saw there was a sight I would never forget.
Rivers Cuomo, Matt Sharp, Patrick Wilson and Jason Cropper, standing behind the desk with a huge smile on their faces.
"These gentleman here have decided to adopt you. God knows why." The lady said, spitting one last loogie into my eyes.
Tears filled my eyes, or maybe it was spit. At this point I wasn't able to tell, either way I was overwhelmed by happiness. I knew immediately who these men were, and I feel like they knew me as well.
"Hey sweetie. We noticed you're big fans of our music. And so we have decided to collectively adopt you." As Rivers says this, him and Matt Sharp kissed passionately on the lips.
I wasn't sure how they'd sort this out, maybe I'd be passed around like a trophy, but either way I was happy.
I fell to my knees and sobbed violently, between gasps I was able to sing the words to 'Hash Pipe' as the band joined in, to the dismay of everyone else in the orphanage.
Rivers swept me off my feet and carried me over his shoulder to the Weezer van, or as they call it the "Weezmobile"
I went home the happiest I've ever been.