Fess up!

[Kiwi]

Ok people of CSland, its time to come clean.

What did you do as a child that was naughty/stupid but is now legendary in your family.

Something that was sooooo bad at the time but now comes up at family gatherings as the funnyest story of the night.

Or is something that happened with you and your friends that you still crack up over.

I'll start.

When I was a child I did ALOT of dancing, ballet,tap,jazz everything. My dancing school decided to go over to Aussie to compete in a competition when I was around 10 and stayed in a hotel right down town Sydney. I pretty standard hotel (erring on the side of nice) and the elevators had heat sensative buttons. In two neat rows. You know the kind, they respond to the heat of your finger to activate the control rather than a push in button.

Im sure the hotel workers know whats going to happen and want to kill me already. Alot of buisness men used the hotel and we all know how important their time is right, so the children in the group had a few bad run ins with these guys because we dared be in the lobby when they wanted the seats to talk to clients, or had filled up the elevator (there were around 15 children) and they needed to get up to their room NOW and demanded we A. get out of the lobby even though we were there first,( because they were to cheap to book a conference room) and B. let them have first run of the elevator

So I was a pretty sneaky little kid and had to run back up to the room to get my bag, everyone else from the dancing school was waiting in the bus (including my mum, we had 10 parents) so I was the only one in the elevator when this happened. The door opens in the lobby and I see about 10 steps away, coming towards the elevator door Im leaving, these same business men who had been rather nasty to us. So I take one look at them, run my two fingers down the room buttons so the elevator will now have to stop at every single floor on the way up, then boot it for the bus waiting outside.

I get two steps away from the lobby doors and here "YOU LITTLE SHIT, thats NOT funny" .... I got into so much trouble for it, but my old dancing friends still laugh about it today,

[One-Fang]

Hehehe.

I was outside digging a hole in the garden. Uh yeah, just digging a hole. As you do. Guess I was bored. Well, I discovered that putting the hose on full power and 'jetting' the water out of it pushed the dirt aside, boring through the ground. Neato! I had it up full, pointed it down, and tried to see just how far it could go by itself.

Turns out, it could go further than I could get it out.

I turned the tap off and grabbed the shovel. Which I promptly broke, trying to free the hose. Despite the tap being off, the hose was still being sucked into some deep-Earth realm. Uh-oh.

So I called on the parental units. Dad came and tried to pull the hose out. It wouldn't come. It was still sinking. He had to wrap the other end of it around the clothesline pole and tie it tight. It got very tight while we wrestled with the problem. No more jetting water, but it never stopped being sucked down.

It must have taken a good half hour or more for him to get another spade from a neighbour and dig down far enough to rescue the hose.

I never lived it down. I was hugely embarassed at the family Christmas do that year when the story was retold.

[thegiraffe]

When I was 12, I was at a conference for a middle school technology group thingy. I somehow got my hands on a box of sugarcubes....

I ate the WHOLE ENTIRE box. I disappeared for a few hours (in the room) because I was sooo incredibly sick.

There's also the time I mowed down the tangerine tree in the backyard. I was 9 and mowing the lawn (ride-on mower), and no one told me the brakes were out. Bad brakes + damp lawn = mower keeps going. Yeah...the tree was about my height, but I leveled it. I finally got it to stop, backed up, and went in and told mom and dad what I did. Dad yelled at me, but backed off when he realized that I WAS only 9 years old and had no idea how to see if the brakes were out. Yes, the tree survived. We staked it, and it's still living. Its fruit production cycle is all wacky though, and it's not edible. Oh well.

Yeah...I also got the mower stuck. Like....really stuck. We have 3.5 acres, and most of it is wooded. I was down cutting the 'field' (it's really a power easement), and it was muddy. I was like 10 or 11, so I had no idea that pushing the gas is NOT how to get out of mud. I finally had to go get dad when the back wheels were 2/3 of the way buried. He was so pissed off - had to go change his clothes, then needed a shower when he was done. Needless to say...when we got the new mower a few years later, I didn't use it. In fact, I don't think I've ever used the newer one...

Those are my stories. I'm sure I have more.

[ArenaBoy]

Let's see, there was the time I ate an entire bag of Oreos as a kid, end result was bad.

I was a demon but for some strange reason people liked me. One of the things my mom jokes about is my appetite, I am hungry constantly and once ate a hot dog so fast that they had to order another one.

When I played soccer in recess at school, it was a clear rule that if you weren't playing, you stay off the field. Well an idiot was walking by when I gave the ball a good kick and it pretty much got him in the head. I felt bad about it. I'll post more when I find out.

[dispatch]

my girlfreind often comments about my rouge-ish, evil grin and cursed it for helping me win so many of our squabbles, that grin is the result of a childhood and adolesence of practice, here's the most famous tales.

I must have been about 8 years old, my boyscout troop had done a hike in some woods where there were abandoned railroad tracks with loose spikes that several of us grabbed one or two of as keepsakes. Railroad spikes are like big nails, about 1/2 inch wide and 6 inches long, that hold the track to the ties.
Months later, me and my siblings were playing outside and I stopped to go inside to get something. before I went in I announced to everyone, being the polite and diplomatic young child that I was, that if anyone touched or used my stuff while I was inside I would kill them. No sooner did I say this than my younger sister called my name, picked up the stick and bucket that I had been planning to use for completely legitamate and respectable means, and started running, giggling the whole time because she knew I was mad and it was something she had done. I was getting tired of chasing her, and I saw a railroad spike on the ground, so I picked it up and warned her one last time to give me my stuff back, or else! The resopnse? "Na na na na naaaa na *pbbbbbbt* :p "
My even younger toddler sister was playing nearby, 10 feet (I think 3 meters for those of you outside the US) forward and to my left, the one I was in hot persuit of was about 20 feet forward and a bit to my right, I threw the spike in a way that it flew end-over-end, and aimed at the bushes to the left of my thieving sister.....a little too far left...so far to the left that it hit my toddler sister....in the head :eek:
blood started coming out, I was freaking, my older brother grabbed her and ran her inside, mom and dad were furious, made me come with to the ER "to see how much trouble you caused", she needed 3 stitches, right at the hairline and was more or less fine. When they asked me why I hit my sister in the head with a railroad spike I replied "I was aiming for Angela" (my thieving sister):angel:

[Spiffy McMoron]

I have MANY stories to tell you about me being a right bastard. You know how your parents say that they want you to have a child just like you? I know what a curse that would be.

The big one is that I was a runner. When I was two, I'd have enough energy to hook me up to wires and power a house. This produced several unendering traits.

1) I could not sleep. I'd go to bed at 9 or so, read books until 11 or 12, and then wake up at 6:30. On Saturday mornings, I would often get up so early that there wouldn't even be cartoons on! So, to stop me from being bored, I would randomly start to flick the lights in the house on and off.

2) I would run. Lots. And I would not always stay in the room. Or the house. Or the yard. One time my mom was dealing with my little sister, and lost track of me for a minute or two. After dealing with my little sister, she tries to find me, and can't. I'm not calling back to her, and I'm not in the backyard. So she bundles up my sister in the car, and starts to drive around town, looking for me. She finally finds me, because I was running behind the car-I had thought that she was going somewhere, and how could she not take me, the best thing in her life?!? :lol:

Another time, same situation. Mom is taking care of little sister, and is not paying attention to me for about five minutes. Mom's just doing whatever, when she gets a phone call-it's Eve, a relative who lives on the other side of town. (It's a small town, but still...) Mom picks up the phone, and Eve says, "Spiffy's over here having some cookies and juice. Would you like to pick him up?"

Mom's gotten a better sence of humour since I moved out. :roll:

[Binky]

I have one embarrassing story that my mums friend used to tell anyone that would listen...when I was about 4-5 I went to a playgroup, and one day my mums friend brings her little daughter.....she takes her daughter up to where I'm playing, and I have some play-dough...mums friend says to her little girl...why don't you sit down here and use some of this play dough and share with this little girl...WELL I was having none of that...I promptly told my mums friend "NO SHE CAN'T HAVE ANY!":roll: I was a right brat...mums friend is so stunned she takes her daughter else where and leaves her with some other children to play...she then goes over to where my mum is sitting (this is the first time the met) and goes "man, that little kid is a really little SH*T, I feel sorry for her mum!"...my mum looks at her and goes "which little girl are you referring too???" Mum's friend points me out..mum sighs, says "she's mine" and get up snatches some play-dough out of my hands and gives it to my mums friends daughter LOL mum didn't care...she was used to it...I was a spoilt little SH*T..HEHEHHE

[Banrion]

OHHH the stories I could tell. Well, it all started actually before I was born. My mom was pregnant for a YEAR! That's right, I wasn't coming out. She was on bedrest for 10 months, and gained almost 100 lbs with me. At first when I was late the Dr.'s thought that maybe they just miscalculated, but after 4 weeks, they tried chemical induction, didn't work. Then a few weeks later they tried again, still didn't work, so they finally did the c-section and forced me out. According to my baby book, I already had 4 teeth starting to cut the day I was born.

A few weeks down the road, my mom was changing me, I wiggled free of her grasp, and rolled off the changing table, landing on the hardwood floor with a sickening thud. Mom freaked since I didn't react to it at all, I never started crying, but I was fine.

Fast forward, I am now 7 mos old, I was in my walker, and I managed to get enough of a running start to knock the baby gate, the walker, and myself down a flight of stairs.

I also liked treasure hunts. No matter where we went, I found and ate something I shouldn't have. While at my grandma's house, I managed to get into the attic and find a box of my dad's from college and eat a whole bottle of NO-Doze. I ate the entire contents of an ashtray, and a pack of cigarettes while my dad was napping. But the most fun was when I ate an entire bottle of Flintstones Iron supplement vitamins. After those I had to have blood tests done weekly for a few months.

[lordlundar]

The most infamous I've done was the hand on the riding lawnmower exhaust pipe. Second degree burs and a lot of crying later, I realized it gets hot. Who knew?:angel:

[Lace Neil Singer]

Most of mine centre on either me and my other brothers torturing my little brother, or just all 4 of us acting like demon spawn.

* The time I told my little brother that he was adopted cuz his real parents thought he was too ugly. My other brothers backed me up and my little brother was really traumatized. Even today he still brings it up, so I guess it was really mean.

* The time we all locked my little brother in the downstairs loo at our grandparents and he was forced to climb thru a magazine sized window to escape.

* The time we put him in the dressing up box and all sat on the lid, ignoring his screams for help.

* The time we all went to the swimming pool and appropiated all the rafts.

* The time we were playing on the lifts and managed to get a completely innocent boy done for the things we were doing, ie going down to the staff room and dumping cones, rubbish, etc in it. The kid was kicked out of the leisure centre.

* The time we ran up a down excalator and this guy yelled at us in a thick Yorkshire accent. Even now I still don't know what he said to us, but it was probably very rude.

[Tanasi]

I grew up a Navy brat for part of my life and on a farm the rest.

When I was about 2 or so, my Mom and her family were killing chickens to freeze, the grass was very wet and my aunt carried me to a chair in the yard near where the slaughter was taking place and told me to stay on the chair so not to get my feet wet. When you wring a chickens neck (basically pull/twist their head off) said chicken will flop around, beat it's wings, basically not enjoy the experience. They were wringing necks and hanging the chickens on the clothes line, well one got away. This one didn't flop around but it ran and it ran straight toward me. Being very young and basically not having a clue I jumped off the chair and took off running. I was old and smart enough to know that something without a head shouldn't run and I should run away. Well run I did, I ran completely around the house and when I turned that last corner I spotted my aunt and jumped into her arms screaming my head off. I didn't have a good night sleep for some reason.

Another time my Mom went to visit an elderly neighbor, I wanted to go but was denied and had to stay with my Dad. I was pitching a fit and Dad swatted me on the butt a few times. Well being a Navy brat and Dad being gone most of the time I thought who does he think he is to spank me? Well I pouted whilst I formuled my revenge as only a 4 yo can do. I waited until he was laid out on the couch watching football and snuck up behind him and split his wig with a #3 wood. I then put on my rubber boots, coat and hat and went to find Mom. For some reason Dad wasn't too forgiving when we returned home and I again didn't have a good nights sleep.

I also had the hobby of catipluting my siblings for height and I only put my baby sister in the hospital one time but boy did she fly.

[Jaden]

I was at the other end of the spectrum from Lace's, I WAS the tortured little brother ;) Let's see, a list of things my brother has done to me that my family finds hilarious but that, at the time, horrified me:

1. The most famous would have to be the time he wrapped my entire head in duct tape. My brother beat me up on almost a daily basis, and one time I was just sitting at the computer, playin a game or somethin, when he came up behind me and told me to take my glasses off. I refused at first, of course, and he told me if I didn't take them off he'd punch me in the face. So I took them off. Next thing I know my entire head is covered in duct tape, except my mouth so I could yell and breathe.

2. Second most famous would be when he tied me up and tapped me in the forehead with a spoon for a half hour. In the same spot. Like Chinese water torture, except with a spoon. Seriously, it drove me crazy!

3. Yes, my brother also had me convinced I was adopted. I came to my parents crying (this was about ten years ago, when I was 6 or 7) asking them who my real parents were :lol:

There's more, but I can't think of them at this point in time. Nowadays I can look back and laugh at this stuff, but back then it was just terrible to me! :o

[AFpheonix]

I was a pretty good kid, aside from a few nudist tendencies.....

My brother, however, was the naughty one, and there's on story that has gained more noteriety than all others.
My sisters' room had a large urn of pampas grass in the corner. (My mom decorates funny). Interesting looking, and flammable! woohoo!
So my brother, being a boy and all, decided that the pampas grass would be a great subject on which to play around with fire. Well, it lit up, entirely too well. In fact, the wall was completely scorched and the closet door near it was melted. When mom got home and demanded to know what had happened, he blamed it on spontaneous combustion. :lol:

And he got away with it! My god!

[Lace Neil Singer]

I was at the other end of the spectrum from Lace's, I WAS the tortured little brother

Aww, now I almost feel guilty... nah. :lol: Seriously, at the time I thought nothing of it, but now, I think that the adoption thing was really mean. :o Plus all the horrible things we did to innocent staff at the leisure centre puts the four of us in the junior SC group, which is very shaming now. XD:o

[Lvl_9_Gazebo]

I started early, and to make a long story short, my mother went through natural childbirth with me against her will. The epidural didn't work, and mom says it feels weird to have something prodding around inside your spine like that. Also, at some point, forceps were involved to pull me out, and she says that feels a bit odd also.

But I digress. The very first time my parents took me out after I was born, we went to the grocery store, where I proceeded to execute a moderately graceful swan dive in the dairy aisle, and land squarely on my head.

Perhaps this explains what came later:

My brother, ten years older than me, was a prolific model-builder. Planes, cars, aircraft carriers. He had dozens. I took them all out into the back yard, piled them up, and set fire to them.

My brother was a prolific comic-book collector. I took all his comic books out into the back yard, piled them up, and set fire to them. This occurred a couple of years after the model incident.

My brother had a very nice, very reliable watch that he wore every day, everywhere. I fed it to the dog.

I took all my mother's jewelry, including her one real necklace, a gold chain and rose pendant with a pearl in the middle, and buried the whole lot in the driveway, then promptly forgot where. We found bits of gold chain and twisted pieces of metal for months afterward, especially after it rained.

One snowy day, I decided I'd be helpful and scrape the snow off my brother's car -- a 1970 Pontiac Firebird perfectly restored and painted a weird but appealing purple-red. I used a hoe, and couldn't figure out why the snow was coming off with a weird, but appealing, purple-red tinge.

I was also very prone to bicyle mishaps, that sometimes ended up very costly, but those are stories for another time.

[officegirl]

First of all, I would like to say I was a VERY good child :angel:
Secondly, everything bad I did was my older brother's fault! I adored him and would do whatever he asked.

First example: When I was super little, probably 2 or so, my brother dared me to walk across a river on a vine. It was probably a 50 foot deep river and it was raging! Well, I did it because my brother asked me to and neither of us was old enough to realize what the consequence would be and the vine broke. Luckily he caught me and screamed for my parents. I have no recollection of this but hear it all the time.

Second example: When I was in 1st grade, my older brother talked my younger brother and I into running away. We all got out little skateboards and took off. Well, we decided to go to a friend's house and when his mother asked us how we got there, my big brother said, "Oh our parents dropped us off. They said they'd be back soon." Well, she didn't buy it and called our parents. We got the belt for that one...

I did this one all on my own- When I was probably 3ish, my little brother was having a birthday party and my aunt, who was probably still in high school at the time, was in charge of me. Well, she made me mad and I stormed out the front door. She followed me but stopped at the door and screamed at me to come back. I ignored her, walking over to the next block and taking a seat on the curb (what's super weird is that I remember not being able to touch my feet to the ground while sitting there... it was either a huge curb or I was really tiny). After a few minutes, a police car drove by and the police woman stopped to ask me what I was doing. She ended up putting me in her car and driving me home. Apparently she had placed her rifle right between my legs in the front seat and I asked her if she was going to shoot me. Mom says the next day, she drove by to make sure I hadn't wondered off again.

[Bliss]

I pretty standard hotel (erring on the side of nice) and the elevators had heat sensative buttons. In two neat rows. You know the kind, they respond to the heat of your finger to activate the control rather than a push in button.


Normally these buttons work by sensing a change of capacitance, not heat. Heat propagates too slowly for a fast response with all but the most sensitive thermistors.


Anyhow, what did I do? everything, I was THE devil. but it's nothing that became famous since I was a loner since a kid.

* I crushed an efervescent pill and fillen a crystal flask with eye dropper with it, then I poured in water and closed the lid. the eyedroper's rubber began to grow and grow and grow, until it was fist-sized, I got scared it might blow so I punctured the top with a needle.. of course a stream of orange colored liquid hit the ceiling for some minute or so, the stain is still there.

* I loved emptying these ashtrays with white sand in them onto carpeted floors.

* I was (and still am by heart but I don't want to get arrested) a urban explorer, that being the fascination for reaching places you shouldn't normally go. There was no roof I could climb I didn't. and I reached areas in the local malls that only maintenance knew existed. :D

* I got a knack for collecting car emblems for a while, I just pried the glued ones and took home.

* Once found a box of discarded burnt fluorescent tubes, I grabed them and hid in a one way street, when a car drove by, I burst out in the open and smashed it like a sword on the car's rear.

* I made a small bomb of turpentine and modeling gas I had home, inside a baby's good container. but on the way to an unused terrain to test it out, it opened on my pant's pockets and spilled all over my legs. By when I reached back home I had a rash on both legs that lasted three days.

* I loved to open the butane valves in the chem lab when nobody was there, and setting fire to them.

* I also made paper airplanes, set them on fire and dropped them on the window.

* I used to fill water balloons, let them freeze in the freezer and then drop them over the balcony (sixth floor).

If you're scared by now, I can at least attest no animal or person ever got hurt.

Altough I scared more than one person pretty good :), thankfully I've come a good way since my terrorist days as a kid.

[Lace Neil Singer]

Probably lucky there was only one of you. XD

[thegiraffe]

Let's see...I'm trying to think of more stuff I pulled off as a kid. I was...creative.

- I dressed my little brother up in a dress when I was 4 or 5. It was pink. Mom and dad were thrilled....

- I 'washed' my brother's hair with toothpaste one day. I didn't realize how much it foamed. OMG it was a mess trying to get out.

- I also 'helped' him put rubber cement in his hair once. He blames me, but he's the one who really did it. He wound up cutting it out...in the front of his head, like 2 days before we were supposed to get family pictures done. Mom and dad were again thrilled.

- My brother and I never got along. I got back at him for all the stuff he did to me (beating me silly, biting, etc) by sticking needles, sharp end up, in the carpet in the doorway of his bedroom. I got in SO much trouble for that, but the feeling of satisfaction was purely wonderful. I feel bad for doing it now though...sorta...

- When I was 17, we were heading out to the beach for Memorial Day weekend (we live like 45 mins away from Daytona). I was home, getting everything together, and I discovered that the towels and cloths in the laundry room sink STUNK, but I didn't have enough time or laundry for a load. So, I plug the drain and fill up the sink with some detergent to de-stinkify it for the weekend. I run back to my room to do something, and get distracted. 10 mins later, I realize the sink is running, and run back to the laundry room (literally across the house). I see that it's overflowing, so I turn the water off, and go to the kitchen to get skewers to unplug the sink (I am NOT sticking my hand in that water...I know where it's been haha). After I start to drain it, I realize that the carpet is awful sloshy. We had a marble...divider I guess between the laundry room and the hallway, so no water escaped. I just managed to float the carpet about an inch or so. Fantastic. So, I go to the garage and get a wheelbarrow, bring it to the laundry room (like 3 feet in the house), and proceed to load the carpet in. Ever picked up sopping wet carpet? This was probably about...120 sq feet of carpet. It weighed probably pretty close to 250 lbs. I managed to finally get it in the wheelbarrow, and cart it off to the back porch (going AROUND the house, not through it). I lay it out on the chaises to dry, and go back and proceed to use every single towel in the house to wipe up all the water from the floor. I just started throwing them in the washer after they were soaked. Mom works in the construction industry, so I called her to see if she could bring home a large floor fan to dry the floor. She wanted to know what for, so I told her and somehow managed to keep a straight face. So...all in all, the carpet got a bath, the floor was clean, and the baseboards had just been freshly painted, so no water seemed to seep in there. I got in quite a bit of trouble for it though.

- There was also the wax-paper incident. I was...18 I think. I was baking one of those breaded chicken patties in the oven, and I didn't want to have to scrub the pan. We don't have aluminum foil (I have no idea why), so I looked at the wax paper box. It said you can use it to line cake pans. Well, cake pans go in the oven, therefore wax paper can go in the oven....right? Well, not exactly. 2 mins later, I smell something burning, and I see the wax paper smoking. I finished cooking the chicken on parchment paper (which is NOT waxed....it can go in the oven like that), and throw the wax paper away. Dad yelled at me for 'almost burning down the house', but I countered that I read the box. I guess I kinda won that one, and learned a lesson.

- We didn't get in trouble for it, but my parents were quite astonished when we told them about it a few years ago. My bro and I were 'latchkey kids' from the time I was about 9 (he was 7) through High school (meaning we went home after school and stayed there alone). We were BORED. Mom and dad locked the computer and TV...we had nothing to do. So...we'd flip the couch backwards and pretend it was a boat, among other things. We have carpeted floors, so we could move it back exactly where it was into the little holes and they'd never know. Well, turns out that no matter how many times they told us they knew 'everything', they really didn't. They were so shocked when we told them all the abuse the poor couch had suffered. It now resides in my room...it's a good couch :)

- I also had a nasty habit when I was younger of tying things together. Since I was about 3 or 4 and could tie a knot, my dresser drawers got tied together, chairs got tied to other things....mom and dad had to step carefully around the house so they wouldn't get clotheslined by one of my inadvertent boobie traps. This went on until I was about 7 or 8, when I found other things to amuse me. Mom STILL rants and raves about how annoying it was. I got real good at untying knots real fast...they made me untie everything I tied.

That's all I can think of now.

[Irving Patrick Freleigh]

Well, let's see...

-As a baby, I am told I used to bounce very violently in the bouncer. It would get that thing almost off the ground sometimes. I would do this until I fell asleep in the bouncer.

-In grade school, I ran into a tree. Not on my bike or skateboard. I literally ran. With my feet. Into a tree.
I was playing tag with some kids and the bell rang and I was running not watching where I was going and bang! I broke my glasses, broke my finger, bruised my knee so bad I couldn't hardly walk and scratched myself up good.

-One time I was visiting my grandparents and we went to some autumn harvest festival in town. I had a caramel apple in a dish (with whipped cream, nuts and a cherry on top, mmmmmmm...whipped cream.). I was walking around eating this caramel apple and I walked staright into a tent pole. We still laugh about this as it's an example of how I sometimes do not pay attention to where I am going.

-I didn't do this, but my sister did. One day we were playing some game where I guess we were hiding a small ball and then trying to find it. My sister got the bright idea of sticking it up the exhaust pipe of my dad's truck. Of course, we couldn't get it back out. Sister told mom and dad that the ball just bounced up there, but recanted and told the truth when it was pointed out to her that it was impossible for the ball to bounce up into the exhaust pipe. My dad had to take apart the entire exhaust system on the truck to get the ball out.

-Another time, when my sister and I were little, we were all dressed up and ready to go someplace. We were waiting outside for mom and dad to get ready. It had rained the previous day and we had a garden that was basically a huge mud pit. So of course sis and I go play in the mud, because mud attracts kids like a picnic attracts ants. Mom and dad were a little perturbed to see us all caked in mud.

-Another time I got into a big bucket of old motor oil my dad must have been saving up or something. That was another big mess for mom to clean up, and another bath and sore rear end for me.

[Irving Patrick Freleigh]

When I played soccer in recess at school, it was a clear rule that if you weren't playing, you stay off the field. Well an idiot was walking by when I gave the ball a good kick and it pretty much got him in the head. I felt bad about it. I'll post more when I find out.

Oh that reminds me of another story!

In junior high, we used to spend our lunch recess playing volleyball in the gym during the winter. We would divide up into teams of 4 and have scheduled games aginst the other teams. Before the games would start everybody would just around the nets and hit the ball around.

Well, this particular day I decided to show off and perform my hardest serve. I whacked the ball and it went flying. It just so happened that my keyboarding teacher was walking by at the time, and the ball hit him right in the head.:eek:

While I was looking for a hole to crawl into, everybody else was pointing at me and telling him I hit the ball.

He was a good sport about it though.

[Irving Patrick Freleigh]

WHy is it I can't think of these stories all at one time? :confused:

Anyhoo, my friends from high school and I still talk about this.

I took German for six years. In my fourth year, we were given an assignment to make a Valentine's Day card in German class. I think the purpose of this was to test out vocabulary--to see if we could compose a Valentine's message in grammatically-correct German. All our cards were then put up on the bulletin board in the classroom and all the other German students in other classes got to vote for the ones they liked best.

While everybody else was drawing hearts and cupids and using Lace and other frills, I went for something different. My card consisted of a graphic drawing of a guy ripping the heart out of another guy's chest, with the caption "Du hast mein herz gestohlen!" ("You've stolen my heart!")

My card won second prize. Explains a lot about the kind of kids who took German, I guess.

[Hempress]

My mom likes to tell the story of the time I asked a stranger to buy me shoes. I had managed to escape from my mom's supervision at the mall because there was a pair of shoes I wanted that she wouldn't buy for me. (I think I was 3-4 at the time...I don't remember this at all, but she tells me about it often enough.) Anyway, I remembered how to get to the shoe store and I badgered some strange lady about buying me these shoes. She took me to the customer service desk and they found my mom, who had been searching for me frantically. It's funny now but it scared the hell out of her then. As far as I know I never did get those shoes. :(

[thegiraffe]

I remember these at sporadic times...

There was the time when I was 12 and called my little brother a Mother F***er at the dinner table. My punishment? A cocktail of softsoap and vinegar in my mouth for 30 mins. I learned.

I also had a nasty habit of drawing on the walls...with pencil. My reasoning? Pencils have erasers.... Unfortunately, that doesn't work on paint though. I had to buy paint (i was 7 or 8) and repaint everything I did. I learned that lesson too.

[thegiraffe]

I remembered more!!

When I was 12, my mom and dad and my best friend's parents (we lived 3 houses apart) went out to dinner, and left us kids at my friend's house (the two of us and our lil brothers). When they got back, we were all hiding in random places around the house, with my friend and I underneath the desk in the back room. I should mention that the ENTIRE house was pitch black, and looked pretty deserted. My mom sat down in the desk chair (thinking about where we could be), and was so close that we couldn't breathe or she'd see us. We looked at each other, and then jumped out at her. She about put a new skylight in the back room. It was SO funny.

There was also the time I decided to hide when they were coming home. I stood in the laundry room, which is the first door when you walk in the house. All the lights are off, and I just stood there waiting for her to come. She walks in the door, and I knew she wouldn't turn the hall light on. I just stepped out and gave her a hug. She about peed her pants, and then I got in trouble. It was worth it though.

[Dreamstalker]

Hmmm...

1. I could have been part of the reason Jarts (lawn darts) were banned. I was goofing around with them in my grandmother's backyard, a bunch of us were sitting outside. I tossed one in the air (underhanded throw, point up which was bad idea #1); I was far enough out from the house that it should have gotten stuck in the oak tree.

It didn't. It came down and almost hit my grandmother in the head. She had called me demon spawn before that, but I got an earful that time.

2. I was about eight and ate a whole box of Froot Loops. Nuff said, I think.

3. Same age (or maybe younger) and I ate an entire bowl of beets. Again, nuff said. Scared the crap out of my mom.

4. I was about 12 and it was around Easter time. We had stopped at the pet store to buy some things for the cats. Of course they had bunnies in a cage and I had to play with them. "Mom the bunnies are so cute can I have one?" "No the cats wouldn't like that." "Oh, OK." :angel:

Later that day we went to the grocery store (Bread & Circus). They had rabbit in the meat case. Me: "Ooh mom can we have rabbit for dinner I've never tried it before?"

She says that's when she knew I was a normal child.

[Massage Therapist]

Hmmm... I'm sure I have more than I can remember right now, but these are the most infamous in my family.

When I was bout 3 or 4, I seemed to have this obsession with white chocolate. Apparently, I thought that everything that was white and creamy MUST be white chocolate... as evidenced by the giant disgusting bite I took out of a hotel soap my dad showed me from a business trip he'd gone on. :doh:

Also, my parents had a sculpture of a shark molded out of what I now know to be a white STONE substance. My mother came home one day to see chip taken out of the dorsal fin. When she asked me if I broke the shark I replied, "No... but it didn't taste very good! :mad:"


(Thankfully not a case of mistaken white chocolate identity story.) My grandmother was trying to teach me how to knit and crochet when I was 7 or so. Therefore, I had all of these lovely balls of yarn, but not much interest in using them for anything productive. ;) I was alone in the house for some reason or another, and thought it would be a grand idea to do something entertaining with the yarn and our living room. I grabbed a roll of tape, and reached up as high on the wall as my arm would go, taping the end of the yarn ball there. This continued throughout the living room, crisscrossing frequently, until I had my very own yarn 'ceiling'. :lol: My mother was NOT thrilled when she got home, but I thought it was damn cool looking for the few hours it lasted.

[booger]

1. When I was about 5, I got ahold of my stepdad's lighter and managed to light my thumb on fire. I blamed it on my sister, and she got yelled at. To this day, I still can't get a lighter to work. Good thing I don't smoke, cause I'd never be able to light a cigarette. :)

2. When I was 7 or so, I was mad at my sister and I threw a fork at her. It stuck in her thumb straight out. She wasn't seriously injured-I don't even think it bled. But I sure did get in trouble for that.

3. When I was 13, I told my sister that she couldn't kill bugs because it was mean and the BugMan would take her away forever. She squshed a beetle in the front yard, and not two minutes later, a car with dark tinted windows pulled up, and a serious looking man in a suit started walking toward our house. My sister ran crying into the backyard to hide. The guy was just looking for directions to get to a wedding, and I must say, he had impeccable timing. :) My sister still claims to this day she faked the crying but my other siblings and I know better. :)

[MadMike]

I did my share of bad stuff, but I don't know how much of it my family even remembers, let alone would consider it "legendary." But I have a few favorites...

I think I was about 7 or 8 when this one happened, which would have made my brother 3 or 4. He had heard me and my friends joking around, telling "dirty" versions of certain nursery rhymes. As most people know, little kids like that like to repeat stuff they hear from adults and older kids. And where did he choose to repeat what we heard? At a big family dinner, with the parents, grandparents, and even some great-grandparents. Without any warning whatsoever, suddenly he blurts out:

"Mary had a little lamb
She tied him to the heater
And every time he turned around
He burned his little peter"

The reactions were widely varied. For the most part, the younger people were amused, while the older people were horrified. My dad was trying so hard not to laugh as he told me brother not to talk like that at the table. Meanwhile, I'm sitting there silently, with my eyes cast downward, thinking, "Don't look at me... Don't look at me..." Fortunately, I don't think I got blamed for it in any way.


The town I lived in up until my parents split was a small town, and there wasn't always anything to do. At the time of this incident, I was 13, and most people know that teenagers and boredom do not mix well.

There was a road the crossed the main road, called "Buck Ridge Road", which was marked with one of those little green signs with white lettering. Anyone see where this is going?

I just happened to have a permanent green marker, and one night I "altered" the sign with it. It stayed like that for about a week, until someone cleaned it up, with some paint thinner, I'm guessing. So the next night I went and did it again. This time it stayed like that for about a month, until someone ripped the whole sign down.

About 10 years later, they finally replaced it, and I was tempted, but I figured I was a little too old to do stuff like that anymore.

A few years ago, we were hanging out at my dad's, and I mentioned having done that. He started laughing and said, "That was you doing that?"


When I was about 15, I was living across the street from a store, which had a phone booth out front. My one friend and I found out the number, and we spent the one day just sitting in the window with the cordless phone, waiting for someone to walk past the pay phone. When they did, we'd call it and see if they answered. You'd be surprised at how many people did. If they did, we'd insult them.

The one time, two girls we went to school with were in front of the store, so we called the pay phone. The one answered it, and I called her by her name when I insulted her. The next day in school, she ripped into me, saying I scared her, because she couldn't figure out how the person calling her knew who she was. Turned out her friend looked across the street and saw us in the window, laughing our asses off, and holding the cordless phone. BUSTED!


Then there was the time when I was about 17 and was working on a group project for class. All the other groups were in the library doing research, but we had finished early and just needed to put everything together. The teacher let us use his classroom completely unsupervised, so naturally there was a lot of goofing off.

The one guy in our group was looking across the hall into the other classroom, and mentioned a certain girl in the class. I said something like, "Let's moon her!" He dared me to do it, thinking I wouldn't do it.

He was wrong.

[kerrisan]

When I was 4, I saw crawling around behind an endtable and suddenly screamed out. I had been shocked by the lightsocket. I ran over to my mom and said accusingly, "MOMMY! It bit me!!!!"

---------------------------------------------------------------

My brother saw fir to tell me all about the birds and bees when I was 3 or so. He did a pretty good job . . .
So I went up to my mom and said, "Mommy, guess what! When I was little, I was a chicken!"





Yeah, yeah . . . :rolleyes:

[Spiffy McMoron]

Just remembered another story of me that gets told way too much...

I was about 2 or 3, and was just learning this whole "speech" thing. AT a family gathering, several doting older relatives were asking me questions that tested my knowledge at that point:

Older Relatives: What does a cow say?
Me: Moooo!
OR: That's right! And what does a dog say?
Me: Woof! Woof! ...etc.

Then somebody got the bright idea of asking me this question:

OR: And what does Daddy say?
Me: SPIFFY, BE QUIET!!!

[MadMike]

My son used to do something like that. I can't remember who started it, but it would go like this:

"What's a kittycat say?"

"Meow!"

"What's a doggy say?"

"Woof woof!"

"What's Daddy say?"

"NO!"

[Dreamstalker]

I can truthfully say, that (as far as I know) my first word was in fact "f***".

I was about 2, and at that time our house had a fireplace. My dad was trying to light it, and something happened that resulted in a huge cloud of soot and a stream of fairly inventive curses from him. Being the little innocent (ha), impressionable snot that I was at the time, I began wandering happily around the house singing the f-word :angel:

Luckily, my mom was the only other one in the house (my grandmother still thinks "damn" is the worst word one can say). I didn't get swatted, but learned very quickly that it wasn't such a nice thing to say.

Now, of course, I've been known to verbally peel paint off the walls.