hahahahha! sounds like my kid's experience. I prayed every game, "let him catch that ball" or, "let him hit the ball."
Tell Me A Kid Story
- Thread starter Dana Jean
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"pharmacy" I just brain-farted on it at the time. Froze and panicked and started with F. "F" comes up every time I think about it too. Not like it's an open wound that just got salt poured in. Nothing like that, no sirree.
Flush that wound with "p". hohaohohaoha! Okay. I'm not good at these quick jokes.
Once in my life, and only once, did I do something stupid like that. Our senior prom was coming up. All the guys in my group decided, as a right of passage, to ask the hottest girl in all of high school to the prom and be turned down. Sharon was sure to be the prom queen, and was sure to go to the prom with the team QB or FB, anyway. About half the guys in our group had already asked her and been turned down. I already had a date for the prom. Not a girl I was dating, but a friend. A lot of her friends were going to the prom and she was excited to be going. I figured it was my turn to be turned down by the goddess. This long-haired artsy hippie freak had no chance in hell after all. So I got up my nerve and asked. Sharon said, yes. I turned white as a ghost. A zillion things went through my mind in a split second. But there was no way I was going to let down the girl I had already asked, as she was so looking forward to going to the prom. I had to apologize to Sharon and explained why I did why I did, and that I wouldn’t be going with her... as it was just a stupid cruel thing we did. Sharon let me have it, and deservedly so. It taught me a life’s lesson that people’s feelings are not to be trivialized. Sharon and I did remain friends afterward and I always treated her with the utmost respect after that. And she did end up going to the prom with a football player and became prom queen.
Good for you that you were kind. But, I wasn't asked because I was hot. I was the bow wow and they laughed, pushing each other at me. I was honest to goodness like Carrie in that way. Everyone liked me for my sense of humor, but good god, don't look at the Gorgon too long!
Not to be all existential or anything, but everything that happens in childhood relates to who we are as adults. Every single minute we've lived has led us to become who we are today. What happened at six, ten, twenty, whatever age. It all adds up.
My childhood was unpleasant. I won't bore you with the details. Lots of kids have it bad. Sometimes that cycle continues, and sometimes kids are able to use that as a blueprint of what NOT to do. I hope I'm the latter. I don't drink or abuse drugs, and I try to be a good mom and gramma.
One thing that has stuck with me throughout, though, is art. I've been drawing since before I could walk. I know, all kids dig crayons and sidewalk chalk, but I've been the artsy type all through school and ever since. I wish I'd gone to college for it, but there wasn't the money and I NEEDED to get away from home. So I joined the Army, hit the ground running, and here I am today, still painting, still drawing. Still being artsy.
Sorry my story isn't more entertaining.
My childhood was unpleasant. I won't bore you with the details. Lots of kids have it bad. Sometimes that cycle continues, and sometimes kids are able to use that as a blueprint of what NOT to do. I hope I'm the latter. I don't drink or abuse drugs, and I try to be a good mom and gramma.
One thing that has stuck with me throughout, though, is art. I've been drawing since before I could walk. I know, all kids dig crayons and sidewalk chalk, but I've been the artsy type all through school and ever since. I wish I'd gone to college for it, but there wasn't the money and I NEEDED to get away from home. So I joined the Army, hit the ground running, and here I am today, still painting, still drawing. Still being artsy.
Sorry my story isn't more entertaining.
Not to be all existential or anything, but everything that happens in childhood relates to who we are as adults. Every single minute we've lived has led us to become who we are today. What happened at six, ten, twenty, whatever age. It all adds up.
My childhood was unpleasant. I won't bore you with the details. Lots of kids have it bad. Sometimes that cycle continues, and sometimes kids are able to use that as a blueprint of what NOT to do. I hope I'm the latter. I don't drink or abuse drugs, and I try to be a good mom and gramma.
One thing that has stuck with me throughout, though, is art. I've been drawing since before I could walk. I know, all kids dig crayons and sidewalk chalk, but I've been the artsy type all through school and ever since. I wish I'd gone to college for it, but there wasn't the money and I NEEDED to get away from home. So I joined the Army, hit the ground running, and here I am today, still painting, still drawing. Still being artsy.
Sorry my story isn't more entertaining.
No. It's a good story. You took what you had and became not only a survivor but a thriver. (okay, probably not a word, but you know what I mean.)
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Well, I don’t get that. The girl I went to the prom with was not the most prettiest, not the skinniest, had bad hair... but she had the greatest sense of humor, was a little weird, and had a special confidence in herself, which made her attractive in my eyes. Some asked me, in a sarcastic way, why I was going with “her.” I said I thought she was hot. That seemed to shut them up. I saw Annette at our 40th class reunion. And guess what, she ended up becoming the prettiest, skinniest girl there with great hair, and still had that wonderful sense of humor. We talked for about an hour. My wife really liked her also. At one point Annette hit me and scolded me for not making a move on her that prom night.
That's sweet. I had my moment to shine too. But it took years.
Yes you piddled during Father Goose when a character said...what was it, damn now I can't remember.Did ya miss the one where I piddled myself..and hey it involved a Cary Grant movie
Don' t know where it's at, can't recall the thread, some game
I'm trying to think of a story which doesn't expose me too much.
Naw, this is kid stories. Nothing to expose but kid things.
Well, I did end up going to Live Aid at JFK some 16 year later. I have tickets from the two concerts hanging on a wall at home, although the Woodstock one isn't my original ticket. My mom tore that one up before the beating. And every time I see my cousin Joey, he takes his Woodstock ticket out of his wallet to show me, and rub it in my face.
You should've kept your torn-up ticket. Live Aid is cool too.
Ah, but a connection to the adult me, you see. So far all I'm recalling are events showing that I was an apparent idiot, an expression of natural selection in action.
Probably should have, but who knew it was going to be iconic at the time. The one I have is authentic, and I tell people it was my ticket (which it actually is).
But those are charming. And endearing. My stories aren't actually flattering.
Hey, it is. You bought it, you paid for it. It is.