Ooh, I have a cat story from my childhood! As an only child, I was into the imaginary friend thing, and would create physical representations of them. In particular, I had a robot made of boxes, who's name eludes me at the moment, but needless to say he was hollow.
I must've been seven or eight when we found our first Hustler, and after splitting it with the neighborhood kids I claimed the centerfold as my own. I can still remember the caption: "Come take a trip down my Hollywood Tunnel". Is there a famous Hollywood Tunnel or was this purely a quotation based on her ******? Doesn't really matter.
Anyway, thoroughly lost on what to do with the centerfold but certain that it wasn't to be found by the parents, I naturally hid it inside my robot buddy. At some point, my cat got at it, and tore the naked woman to shreds. Well, I kept the shreds, still in my robot buddy.
Maybe a year or two passes, and one night I return home from baseball practice to see my parents have company. Upon entering the house I am horrified to see the visitors have brought a small child with them, maybe three or four years old, and that the little thing is playing with Robbie the Robot (whattya know, I remembered his name)! Robbie's only been kept around this long because he is still holding the little shreds of pornstar; I was totally over the imaginary friend thing at this point, but had a couple years yet 'til I moved on to destroying evidence.
Needless to say, really, I wasn't in the house for more than five minutes before the little twerp knocked my robot over and sent confetti pus[red][/red]sy and tits showering about the livingroom. It took a moment, but soon the adults realizeed what they were looking at, and boy was I embarrassed. I don't remember what happened next.
The end.
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My brother was probally about 3 or 4 and we were playing with all the neighborkids. It was hide and go seek. All the parents are out in the yards watching us and chit chatting while we are having a blast.. till it comes down to that we've found everyone except for my little brother. INC MOM PANIC! Every parent in the neighborhood is scouring garages, cars, trash bins, trees, bushes looking for my little brother. We've looked everywhere in our house we can think of atleast twice. About 30 minutes has gone by and we go threw to check the house again.. when my mom notices a small bump under the covers of her bed near her pillows. That **** had crawled into the bed to hide and had dozed off. We wake him up and all he says is, "Peek-a-boo Mommie". I've never seen my mom cry that hard and laugh at the same time.
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Edited, Jul 12th 2006 at 4:59pm EDT by MonxDoT
Edited, Jul 12th 2006 at 4:59pm EDT by MonxDoT
My mother has constant stories she tells about me as a kid, mostly to complain for the millionth time about how much she loved that <insert thing> here that I managed to tie to the neighbor's cat/break/sell. You should PM her.
Nexa wrote:
hehe, my poor parents.
My parents had it bad too. I got suspended in sixth grade for "mooning" the principal. Twenty years later, my mom still runs into him at the supermarket. The first thing he says is, "I remember you, your Wayne's mom. Is he still Mooning people?"
Oh the embarassment she feels, twenty years later...
Katie reminded me of something I did as a toddler. And then I have a new story about my son to share.
Me: when I was about 2 there was a string of kidnappings going on in our area, so all parents were very high strugn when out shopping. My mom went to a local dept store one day with me in tow to get some new clothes for her job. We're in the fitting room and my mom is in the middle of trying some of the outfits on when I guessed I snuck under the door and ran. She screamed for em to cm eback but I guess I didnt ( I have no memory of this so just going by what I was told ). After throwing clothes on she ran out to look for me but I was nowhere in sight. She alerted the store managers and they closed the store down completely. No one could get in or out in case I had been kidnapped. It took the store workers and my mom over 90 minutes to find me. Back then they used to have these huge bins filled with socks and cabinets underneath to store extras. I had crawled in one and buried myself in socks, and had fallen asleep. Yeah, I got my *** whooped for that.
Now, what is up with little boys and peeing outside? My son has this fascination with whipping it out and peeing in the woods. When he was learning to potty trained that was fine. But he's been potty trained for 2 years and still tries to get away with it even though Ive told him absolutely not.
So this morning I ran out to grab some mulch and putter in my backyard while my son romped around with the dog. He was being pretty good so I lost myself while mulching my blueberry bushes. Something made me look up a few minutes later though, and there stood my son, on top of a rock surrounded by bushes, peeing to his hearts content. I raised my voice so he could hear me and asked what in Gods name was he doing?? Startled he almost fell off his rocky perch and scrambled to put his pants back on. After gaining some compsure he looked at me and calmy explained "Mommy, I had o pee really bad and I just knew I wouldnt make it to the house. Plus the bushes looked thirsty."
Me: when I was about 2 there was a string of kidnappings going on in our area, so all parents were very high strugn when out shopping. My mom went to a local dept store one day with me in tow to get some new clothes for her job. We're in the fitting room and my mom is in the middle of trying some of the outfits on when I guessed I snuck under the door and ran. She screamed for em to cm eback but I guess I didnt ( I have no memory of this so just going by what I was told ). After throwing clothes on she ran out to look for me but I was nowhere in sight. She alerted the store managers and they closed the store down completely. No one could get in or out in case I had been kidnapped. It took the store workers and my mom over 90 minutes to find me. Back then they used to have these huge bins filled with socks and cabinets underneath to store extras. I had crawled in one and buried myself in socks, and had fallen asleep. Yeah, I got my *** whooped for that.
Now, what is up with little boys and peeing outside? My son has this fascination with whipping it out and peeing in the woods. When he was learning to potty trained that was fine. But he's been potty trained for 2 years and still tries to get away with it even though Ive told him absolutely not.
So this morning I ran out to grab some mulch and putter in my backyard while my son romped around with the dog. He was being pretty good so I lost myself while mulching my blueberry bushes. Something made me look up a few minutes later though, and there stood my son, on top of a rock surrounded by bushes, peeing to his hearts content. I raised my voice so he could hear me and asked what in Gods name was he doing?? Startled he almost fell off his rocky perch and scrambled to put his pants back on. After gaining some compsure he looked at me and calmy explained "Mommy, I had o pee really bad and I just knew I wouldnt make it to the house. Plus the bushes looked thirsty."
shadomen the Brilliant wrote:
Nexa wrote:
hehe, my poor parents.
My parents had it bad too. I got suspended in sixth grade for "mooning" the principal. Twenty years later, my mom still runs into him at the supermarket. The first thing he says is, "I remember you, your Wayne's mom. Is he still Mooning people?"
Oh the embarassment she feels, twenty years later...
Especially when she has to say yes.
I was fairly adventuresome and lacked the sense to be afraid of anything. I also loved animals, so my mom had to suffer through a variety of wildlife being brought into the house.
I was also kind of absent minded (a trait which persists to the present day), so occasionally I'd forget that I'd brought, say, a snake home to show Mommy... I'd just put it down and wander off to do something more interesting, I guess.
Couple of times she found my living show-and-tell stars in fairly unexpected places. Oops.
In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.
DSD wrote:
Plus the bushes looked thirsty
Um...handcuffing your own mother to the bed brings up all sorts of Oedipal connotations. That's just pretty scary.
publiusvarus wrote:
we all know liberals are well adjusted american citizens who only want what's best for society. While conservatives are evil money grubbing scum who only want to sh*t on the little man and rob the world of its resources.
So I own a large dog. Great dane, female. Gets into everything. Everything. Our kitchen trash now lives in the garage. Cat litter box is in the guest bathroom with a kitty door in it. However, her strangly undescerning pallate was a mystery to us at first.
And so it was that the dog got into the bathroom trash after my wife had a visit from her monthly "friend". The dog eats tissues so we didn't think much of it - except that there seemed to be quite a bit *less* trash when we returned it to the can.
No, in fact this story *doesn't* end with a trip to the vet surgeon. I know a good one personally, but no.
Dog seems fine. Next day my wife takes her to the off leash doggie park. Happiest place on earth. And the dog is eating some grass. Not terribly atypical, but she also seems sluggish, so my wife is about to take her back home when doggie vomits a pile of used feminine products. A perfect, 8" high pile. Some are still in their wrappers. My wife tries to calmly, scuttle over to the nearest trash can, grab the pooper scoopers and come back to clean it up when she hears a man's voice: "What is that?" and a woman's voice reply: "Oh, I know what that is." So my poor embarassed with walks very briskly over, cleans up the offending mess, tosses it, and grabs the (now, much releaved) giant boarhound and leaves.
And she doesn't go back for like a month.
This is my favorite story about the dog (probably because I wasn't there), but we have a ton of them.
My baby is only 3.5 months old, so the funny things she does are...well, less theatrical.
And so it was that the dog got into the bathroom trash after my wife had a visit from her monthly "friend". The dog eats tissues so we didn't think much of it - except that there seemed to be quite a bit *less* trash when we returned it to the can.
No, in fact this story *doesn't* end with a trip to the vet surgeon. I know a good one personally, but no.
Dog seems fine. Next day my wife takes her to the off leash doggie park. Happiest place on earth. And the dog is eating some grass. Not terribly atypical, but she also seems sluggish, so my wife is about to take her back home when doggie vomits a pile of used feminine products. A perfect, 8" high pile. Some are still in their wrappers. My wife tries to calmly, scuttle over to the nearest trash can, grab the pooper scoopers and come back to clean it up when she hears a man's voice: "What is that?" and a woman's voice reply: "Oh, I know what that is." So my poor embarassed with walks very briskly over, cleans up the offending mess, tosses it, and grabs the (now, much releaved) giant boarhound and leaves.
And she doesn't go back for like a month.
This is my favorite story about the dog (probably because I wasn't there), but we have a ton of them.
My baby is only 3.5 months old, so the funny things she does are...well, less theatrical.
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