AlphaTroll
New Member
I was reading through a few of my old posts from the *evil forest that shall remain unnamed* and came across a few things I posted re childhood memories.
Thought I'd share (copy/paste....the only true wonder of the 20th century
). Do you have any vivid childhood memories that bring a smile to your face?
-------------------
In the good old days when my sisters & I were all still in school (highschool already - please keep in mind) & got at each other for absolutely anything & everything.
One particular school holiday (in June / July) we were all watching TV, when my oldest sister (hereafter referred to as OS) decided to switch the channel 'cos she wanted to watch Wimbeldon. My other sister (hereafter referred to as MS 'cos she's the middle sister) did her nut & immediately jumped up & demanded that the station be changed back to whatever was on before.
Insults were thrown & eventually it became physical, with OS & MS beating the crud outa each other & me sitting on the couch laughing my *ss off.
After a while it turned really violent & MS started biting OS 'cos OS had unplugged the aerial from the TV & was beating MS with it (I have a whack family & by the this time I was rolling on the floor laughing with both sisters screaming at me to help the one against the other & pledging allegiance to me forever). Anyway, after taking a particularly nasty bite at OS, MS realised that she would be beaten to a pulp if she did not make a hasty retreat, so she hightailed it outa there to her bedroom, with me in tow - there was just no way I was gonna miss this & I wanted to see what she would get up to......
As we got to the room, with OS hot on our tail, MS slammed the door shut, locked it & pomptly removed the key (I think she was afraid that OS had somehow learned the old prison trick of how to push the key from a lock by wiggling a wire through the keyhole & making the it drop on the other side). But of course curiosity got the better of her, so to check what OS was up to on the other side (and forgetting how small the world is when viewed through a keyhole - miraculously one cannot see around corners or through walls, regardless of the amount of ProNutro consumed in a lifetime) she bent down & took a peep.....
In the meantime OS, who was getting rather desperate, pushed a knitting needle (most likely extracted from Mother's ever increasing pile of weapons of mass destruction in the Homan household) through the keyhole. Now I can only assume that the logic behind this was governed by on of the following thoughts:
1. OS was attempting a prison break trick, possibly learned from hours spent watching Kojak, McGyver & 5 Ster, and was hoping that the knitting needle would somehow bend & 'poof' unlock the door.
OR
2. She was hoping to entice MS to leave the room & join her for a long overdue knit-off.
Regardless of the reasoning behind it, the timing could have been better (on both sides) - for just as MS took a peep, OS pushed the needle through the hole, straight into her eye! And only by the grace of God (and the involuntary human reflection to blink when a sharp object approaches the eye) was the damage only superficial. The damage to OS's backside when dad got home from taking MS to the hospital was another story.....
Moral of the story? Curiosity might not kill you, but it sure as hell could blind you.
-------------------------
Sheez, I remember tug o' wars where it felt like yer arms would break off, but you hung on for dear life & PUUUUUUUUUULLED because nothing in life would ever be as important again. And climbing mulberry trees to get to the ripest, juiciest ones at the top - gorging yerself on them till it felt like yer belly would pop & then lying back (stained from head to toe) satisfied that the world would always be this fantastic. Oh & arguments got settled between us kids - younger kids always listened to the older ones & if ye were outa line ye got a smack - parents never got involved in our squables & we forgot about it all within 24 hours. Battlescars from falling out of a tree, sliding on the pavement after yet another failed attempt at setting the world landspeed record in a shopping trolly or being pelted in a mudslinging (yes literally - some mud was moulded around the end of a willow stick & then flung at each other in 'war') were something to be proud of & we would never ever consider plastic surgery to remove them. Tarzan wasn't a guy on TV - he was the wild one in all of us that made us grab onto Willow branches & swing, screaming AAAAAEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEIOUUUUUUU as loud as we could, trying to jump further than the rest (leading to an arm or two being broken).
And the Ice Cream man was GOD! Whenever we heard the tune of his little car coming around the corner it would be like a mass exodus of children from the flats "Ice Cream Man, Ice Cream Man".................the faster ones running like crazy to make sure that he would actually stop (he never failed to - somehow Ice Cream man was the one adult that never disappointed any of us), while the slower ones were left to negotiate money from the parents (get one for your brother, oh and one for me.........and don't forget your dad - he doesn't like sauce, just plain!). And then the sheer anticipation....standing in the queue......will he see me? Will he have the yummie strawberry sauce I love so much? And then some moments of horror.....Oh my god, what if the ice cream is finished before I get there..........? By this time cold panic would start gripping you, sweating & shaking in terror you start pushing from the back............must........get ...............Ice............CREEEEEEEAAAAAAAMMMMM............till some bigger kid socks ye one in the ribs "stand still goddammit" ..............And finally the moment of bliss - holding that beautiful tower of white in yer hand with red sauce dripping down yer hand, followed by the first pangs of what could resemble a religious crisis - should I eat it slowly, savouring every lick, or chomp it all down to avoid having to share with the poor kids (Ice Cream made us bastards - if ye couldn't afford it, for a brief period ye weren't part of US)....eventually the tried & tested method worked well - licking frantically at the sauce (always including yer clenched hand), til every last drop has been neatly removed - "Ice Cream Man, more sauce pleeeeeeeeeeeeeze" with an outstreched hand & the look of a crazed person (if ye wanna see anything resembling it, dare to wander down to the mall when they have their post-Christmas sales & take a good look at the fat ladies wearing pink tracksuits - usually found in the shoestores ). And somehow the brainfreeze was always worth it, we would compare stories afterwards of who had the largest cone, who got the most sauce, who needed to be added to the LSD squad (LSD = Lam, Siek & Dooies, in English it would be the Lame, Sick & Dead) and then while away hours fantasising about the return of Ice Cream Man
-----------------------------------
Thought I'd share (copy/paste....the only true wonder of the 20th century
). Do you have any vivid childhood memories that bring a smile to your face?-------------------
In the good old days when my sisters & I were all still in school (highschool already - please keep in mind) & got at each other for absolutely anything & everything.
One particular school holiday (in June / July) we were all watching TV, when my oldest sister (hereafter referred to as OS) decided to switch the channel 'cos she wanted to watch Wimbeldon. My other sister (hereafter referred to as MS 'cos she's the middle sister) did her nut & immediately jumped up & demanded that the station be changed back to whatever was on before.
Insults were thrown & eventually it became physical, with OS & MS beating the crud outa each other & me sitting on the couch laughing my *ss off.
After a while it turned really violent & MS started biting OS 'cos OS had unplugged the aerial from the TV & was beating MS with it (I have a whack family & by the this time I was rolling on the floor laughing with both sisters screaming at me to help the one against the other & pledging allegiance to me forever). Anyway, after taking a particularly nasty bite at OS, MS realised that she would be beaten to a pulp if she did not make a hasty retreat, so she hightailed it outa there to her bedroom, with me in tow - there was just no way I was gonna miss this & I wanted to see what she would get up to......
As we got to the room, with OS hot on our tail, MS slammed the door shut, locked it & pomptly removed the key (I think she was afraid that OS had somehow learned the old prison trick of how to push the key from a lock by wiggling a wire through the keyhole & making the it drop on the other side). But of course curiosity got the better of her, so to check what OS was up to on the other side (and forgetting how small the world is when viewed through a keyhole - miraculously one cannot see around corners or through walls, regardless of the amount of ProNutro consumed in a lifetime) she bent down & took a peep.....
In the meantime OS, who was getting rather desperate, pushed a knitting needle (most likely extracted from Mother's ever increasing pile of weapons of mass destruction in the Homan household) through the keyhole. Now I can only assume that the logic behind this was governed by on of the following thoughts:
1. OS was attempting a prison break trick, possibly learned from hours spent watching Kojak, McGyver & 5 Ster, and was hoping that the knitting needle would somehow bend & 'poof' unlock the door.
OR
2. She was hoping to entice MS to leave the room & join her for a long overdue knit-off.
Regardless of the reasoning behind it, the timing could have been better (on both sides) - for just as MS took a peep, OS pushed the needle through the hole, straight into her eye! And only by the grace of God (and the involuntary human reflection to blink when a sharp object approaches the eye) was the damage only superficial. The damage to OS's backside when dad got home from taking MS to the hospital was another story.....
Moral of the story? Curiosity might not kill you, but it sure as hell could blind you.
-------------------------
Sheez, I remember tug o' wars where it felt like yer arms would break off, but you hung on for dear life & PUUUUUUUUUULLED because nothing in life would ever be as important again. And climbing mulberry trees to get to the ripest, juiciest ones at the top - gorging yerself on them till it felt like yer belly would pop & then lying back (stained from head to toe) satisfied that the world would always be this fantastic. Oh & arguments got settled between us kids - younger kids always listened to the older ones & if ye were outa line ye got a smack - parents never got involved in our squables & we forgot about it all within 24 hours. Battlescars from falling out of a tree, sliding on the pavement after yet another failed attempt at setting the world landspeed record in a shopping trolly or being pelted in a mudslinging (yes literally - some mud was moulded around the end of a willow stick & then flung at each other in 'war') were something to be proud of & we would never ever consider plastic surgery to remove them. Tarzan wasn't a guy on TV - he was the wild one in all of us that made us grab onto Willow branches & swing, screaming AAAAAEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEIOUUUUUUU as loud as we could, trying to jump further than the rest (leading to an arm or two being broken).
And the Ice Cream man was GOD! Whenever we heard the tune of his little car coming around the corner it would be like a mass exodus of children from the flats "Ice Cream Man, Ice Cream Man".................the faster ones running like crazy to make sure that he would actually stop (he never failed to - somehow Ice Cream man was the one adult that never disappointed any of us), while the slower ones were left to negotiate money from the parents (get one for your brother, oh and one for me.........and don't forget your dad - he doesn't like sauce, just plain!). And then the sheer anticipation....standing in the queue......will he see me? Will he have the yummie strawberry sauce I love so much? And then some moments of horror.....Oh my god, what if the ice cream is finished before I get there..........? By this time cold panic would start gripping you, sweating & shaking in terror you start pushing from the back............must........get ...............Ice............CREEEEEEEAAAAAAAMMMMM............till some bigger kid socks ye one in the ribs "stand still goddammit" ..............And finally the moment of bliss - holding that beautiful tower of white in yer hand with red sauce dripping down yer hand, followed by the first pangs of what could resemble a religious crisis - should I eat it slowly, savouring every lick, or chomp it all down to avoid having to share with the poor kids (Ice Cream made us bastards - if ye couldn't afford it, for a brief period ye weren't part of US)....eventually the tried & tested method worked well - licking frantically at the sauce (always including yer clenched hand), til every last drop has been neatly removed - "Ice Cream Man, more sauce pleeeeeeeeeeeeeze" with an outstreched hand & the look of a crazed person (if ye wanna see anything resembling it, dare to wander down to the mall when they have their post-Christmas sales & take a good look at the fat ladies wearing pink tracksuits - usually found in the shoestores ). And somehow the brainfreeze was always worth it, we would compare stories afterwards of who had the largest cone, who got the most sauce, who needed to be added to the LSD squad (LSD = Lam, Siek & Dooies, in English it would be the Lame, Sick & Dead) and then while away hours fantasising about the return of Ice Cream Man
-----------------------------------
I thought you meant wow crazy family 
(or when I start boozing again.......can't stand the perilous forest while sober)