What Stace had to say on Wednesday, June 18th, 2008
Confessions

So yesterday at the League blog I bragged about what a brave little stalwart my Faerie is. Which made me think of how lucky I am in general, that my kids are basically good and haven’t done any of the things I did when I was a kid (there was an AW thread about this a few weeks back as well, but I thought it would be fun to bring the topic here.)

Like the time when I was about three–just about the same age as I was in the family photo I posted a little while back–and, apropos of absolutely nothing, I wandered into the kitchen, grabbed a big heavy metal spoon from the drawer, walked calmly over to my brother, and whacked him over the head with it as hard as I could.

Apparently my parents, who’d witnessed the whole thing, had a very difficult time trying to both yell at me and keep from laughing.

Oh, but that wasn’t the end of me tormenting my brother. Once I threw a pair of scissors at him (I admit I’m still horrified I did that, although I don’t remember if I did it because I was mad or if he’d asked me for the scissors and I unthinkingly tossed them to him.)

When I was in first grade (or was it kindergarten?) I met his teacher, Mrs. Kovasic, and said, “Oh, my brother hates you!”

(Don’t worry. He got me back, although I did what I did out of childish innocence and not terrible vengeance the way he did. When he was in sixth grade he was on the Safety Patrol, and he actually reported me for some stupid thing I did. His own sister–even the Principal didn’t know what to do about that one. I know it was you, Fredo. You broke my heart. You broke my heart!)

We raised some tadpoles once. I was supposed to go down to the creek in the backyard to get more water for the Tupperware container we kept them in, but I was too lazy and instead filled it from the hose spigot outside. The tadpoles all died. I felt awful.

In eighth grade I found the Christmas presents in my parents’s closet. This was actually a good thing, though, as it taught me it really isn’t as much fun if you know what you’re getting, and I’ve never done it again.

I used to steal cigarettes from the people I babysat for (in my defense, they paid shit. $12 for an entire night’s work–we’re talking 8 pm to 2 or 3 in the morning. And I didn’t really smoke. And I was 12, for Pete’s sake. I was bored and stuck in some stranger’s house all night. I read their copy of The Joy of Sex cover-to-cover, too. Which they rather inappropriately left right there on the bookcase in the living room.)

Every weekend for like two months we TP’d the same house. The guilt! I still wonder what the grocery store clerks thought when four giggling thirteen-year-olds came in and bought nothing but multipacks of toilet paper and four cans of shaving cream.

Oh, this is really diabolical. My best friend and I used to sneak out at night during Christmas and pull one bulb from the strings of lights people had on their bushes or whatever. We made a huge deal out of this, dressing all in black, including hats and gloves. We even smeared our faces with black eyeshadow. The trick was not being seen–we had hiding places all over the neighborhood.

When I was seventeen a couple of friends of mine and I stole Christian Slater from the Mobsters standee at a theatre near me. This was an even bigger deal because the theatre in question was in the same chain as the one I worked for. I remember one of my managers telling me about the theft. I’m pretty sure she knew who did it, but I kept cool and never got busted for it. I kept Christian in my bedroom for a while (no, get your minds out of the gutter. Where was I supposed to put him, in the kitchen? I was seventeen and living with my Dad and brother.)

So, do you think I’m an awful person now? Or will you join me in shame, and tell me some of the awful things you did when you were young and careless? (I will say this, though. We never messed with little kids’s stuff. No pumpkin smashing, no touching toys left outside, no real theft–we even left the pilfered lightbulb somewhere it could be found. The fun was in sneaking out and wandering around, not in actually causing harm.) And I have lots of other stories, too, but these are the ones I remember best.

So go on. I’m forcing my sharing on you in order to make you feel like you have to share in return. Confess. It’s good for the soul.

17 comments to “Confessions”

  1. Anonymous
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 6:51 am · Link

    When I was about 9 my sister locked me out of the house and taunted me through the patio door for about half an hour. That was her first mistake. Her second mistake was letting me in -I broke her arm.

    When I was a junior in high school one of my football buddies locked me out of the ag building and taunted me through the glass in the door knowing I needed to piss real bad. I put my fist through the glass. We told the ag teacher the wind blew it.

    I could fill a novel (hey, there’s an idea) with the crap I did in high school. I was a nice guy, just wild as hell. -V95



  2. BernardL
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 6:56 am · Link

    I don’t have time to share, I’m too busy looking up the local constabulary’s number near you. I’m sure we have an extradition treaty with the UK. :)

    Seriously, you are so in for it, D. Those little angels of yours are really the Karma Fairies, and will soon help you revisit your youth. :)



  3. Sam
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 6:58 am · Link

    I was so good I made Pollyanna look like a hood, lol. My brother burned up a truck on the farm, my sister got in trouble with a bike stealing ring (no idea how she got mixed up in that!) But I was one of those ‘holier-than-thou’ types. (I hate to admit this. It’s embarrassing to be a prig.)

    The worst thing I did, I did with my mother and little brother. We were poor (I mean, really poor.) One day we were at the supermarket, but everytime we got into a line the cashier would close the line just as we got to the counter, and we’d have to get in a new line. This happened 4 times before we cottoned on to the fact we were being discriminated against. No one wanted to serve us. So I said to my mom – “let’s just walk out with the groceries.” She was shocked, but my little brother heard us and ran back into the store to grab a bunch of steaks. “If you’re going to do that, at least steal something good,” he said.
    We walked out with three bags of groceries – and steaks!



  4. laughingwolf
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 7:24 am · Link

    funny you mention throwing scissors at your bro, my sis did that to me, the points came apart and hit me in the chest, i bled nicely

    can’t recall much, other than soaping windows during hallowe’en

    sis and i got pretty sick, as teens, drinking someone’s homemade dandelion wine, ma and pa were not impressed 😉 lol



  5. Charles Gramlich
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 9:09 am · Link

    I’ll give you one thing. Just one. A couple of times when my friends and I didn’t like someone we’d slip to their house at night. (This was out in the country.) We’d wrap a chain around their mailbox and yank it out with our truck and drag it down the road.



  6. kirsten saell
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 10:25 am · Link

    I once hit my best friend in the face with a shovel (a kid’s sized shovel, but made of wood and steel) because he wouldn’t let me play “panning for gold” on the good side of the sandbox. He had to get stitches.

    In my defense, he totally, totally deserved it.

    Mostly I was the good daughter, though. Making up for it now by being a two-time university drop-out waitress smutwriter, yippee!



  7. Robyn
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    7
    · June 18th, 2008 at 12:21 pm · Link

    When a jerk used and dumped my best friend, we baked brownies with Ex-Lax and had them delivered to him. He was okay, but that one still gives me the shakes. We could have killed him.

    We used to crank call all the freaking time. The kind of stuff you saw on Simpson’s? “I need Amanda Hugginkiss!” Oh, yeah, that was us.



  8. Anonymous
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 12:36 pm · Link

    That settles it. Women are baaaaaad. :~)> -V95



  9. kirsten saell
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 12:48 pm · Link

    Don’t you freakin’ mess with us, V95! We’ll put saran wrap over your toilet bowl. 😀



  10. Robyn
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 1:14 pm · Link

    That reminds me! In college, there was this tool who ignored quiet hours, so we got this huge speaker and stood it in front of his door. The speaker completely covered it. At 5:00am, we blasted 2001’s Space Odyssey at him. He opened the door, which made it worse, and he couldn’t shove the speaker out of the way. He had to jump out his ground floor window to escape it, where we were all waiting to pelt him with snowballs.



  11. December/Stacia
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 4:07 pm · Link

    V95, you say women are bad? You broke your sister’s arm! My little scissor-throw seems so much more innocent now.

    Oh, Bernard, don’t say that. I already feel those bad deeds creeping up on me… And those coppers will never take me alive!

    Oh Sam, that’s awesome! Good for your brother, and I think this is one of the only times I would ever say this, but you guys were 100% right to steal that food. Imagine the store staff doing that to you! Shame on them.

    Laughingwolf, if I’m not mistekn the point of one of the scissor arms(?) hit him on the forehead. Eep.
    Oh, yeah, I’ve got some drunk stories. Maybe that’s another post. :-) (BTW, ever read any James Herriot? He has a story in one of his books about homemade wine that is absolutely hysterical.)

    Why Charles! I don’t know if I’m surprised because it was a bad thing to do, or because I expected so much more from you. 😉

    *nods* Yep, kis, sounds to me like he deserved it. Jerk.

    Oooh, Robyn, the brownies are diabolical. Yeah, one of those things where you look back on it and think “I was so lucky.”
    Good for you re the loud guy, though. Another case where the victim deserved it. Did he pay attention to quiet hours after that?



  12. micheleleesbooklove
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 4:39 pm · Link

    Eh, I’ve been accused of more that I’ve actually done. I was mostly a bookworm. I accidentally found some of my Christmas presents one year. I was snooping, but not looking for them. Honestly I think I was looking for clothes or sewing fabric. I’ve had to break into my house before, once the screen was popped off, once a door with an already splintered and battered frame was kicked in and once it was a pane from the garage door so I could get to the unlocked door inside. Being a latchkey kid was all fine and good, but my Dad made it very clear that if I forgot my key I was just going to have to sit outside until whenever he got home because he couldn’t be bothered with me.

    But my kids… oh lord!!! My daughter’s first word was no. I remember she was just starting to walk and we were role playing in our office at the time. She was pulling books off the shelf and she had started tearing them. I put them all back and she went for them again. I told her no and she, like 8 months old glared at me and said “Yes!” And this happened multiple times.

    Most recently she painted the bathroom with a combination of soap water and candle wax. She’s also big on coloring on the walls.

    As for the boy… Well we had some serious physicality problems when the autism kicked in. He got very violent, though never broke anything. I’m not entirely sure that counts because the base of his problem is communication and at that phase he only communicated physically (by bringing us the drink he wanted, or hugging us if he was tired and hitting if he was mad.)

    Mostly we get verbal arguing from him lately. I swear I have never even though of how contrary a person can be until he gets in that mood. When you tell him “that’s nonsense” and he snaps back “It’s yes-sense!” you can’t help laughing, even if he is talking back.

    Some of the famous ones between the two have been “painting” the wall with hand prints of melted chocolate, dumping a full can of powdered chocolate in the hall, spreading it out just so and telling us it was the chocolate river from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, using a box of mac and cheese as confetti, and every time we go outside there’s a dirt fight to break up or they dump out the dog’s water and make mud balls to “make the garage have spots”. There was once a “super potion” that was made of a coffee mug of sugar, most of a bottle of ranch salad dressing and water. And the infamous mac and cheese that almost burned down the house (wherein the 7 year old learned that just because he can microwave a corn dog doesn’t mean he can warm up a box of mac and cheese the same way).

    OMG, and the funniest and saddest at the same time. I hear crying and run to the kitchen to find my then 2 year old daughter crying. I find a pony in the microwave with a bubble (that burst) burned into its shoulder. “My pony is hurt!” she cries. “Why was your pony in the microwave???” I ask “Because she was cold.” she answers. And it went on for weeks. We had to keep a band aid over the “wound” or she’d talk about nothing else. Whenever we changed it she’d start crying because they pony wasn’t getting better.

    Ah, well. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.



  13. Seeley deBorn
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    · June 18th, 2008 at 6:40 pm · Link

    Like Sam, I was pretty good as a kid. I once filled my roommate’s unmade bed with dirty dishes. He and his gf had used every pan, pot and plate in the house making all kinds of crap that they left in the kitchen overnight and the next day. He was an ass. There were 5 of us in a house with his name on the lease so 4 of us moved out without notice. He hated patchouli, my perfume at the time, so I soaked a rag in pure patch and rubbed it all over his furniture (he had very nice furniture that he got when his wife left him) and then put the rag in the main heating vent.

    I do fun stuff too though. I used an aquaintance/coworkers desk one day when I was in the main office for the day and she was on vacation. I spent the better part of 2 hours completely reversing her cubicle. It was a mirror image, I even changed the direction of the pens she had on her keyboard. She thought I’d made a mess of it until she realized what I’d done. We’re quite good friends now.



  14. Whirlochre
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    14
    · June 18th, 2008 at 11:34 pm · Link

    My childhood pet was a yappy little corgi dog. Lucky me.

    Anyhow, she had this funny whine. So I poured engine oil in her ears to stop her squeaking.

    “Heart of gold, method of a bastard.”



  15. Bernita
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    · June 19th, 2008 at 2:49 am · Link

    Once drove a pitchfork into my older brother’s forehead….



  16. Anonymous
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    · June 19th, 2008 at 7:01 am · Link

    “Once drove a pitchfork into my older brother’s forehead….”

    Winner. -V95



  17. laughingwolf
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    · June 19th, 2008 at 7:01 am · Link

    thx dee, only read a bit of herriot, so missed that one

    waiting to read your ‘drunk’ stories 😉



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