Memory Monday: Drunk or a Kid II

So I have found my theme. I wasn't the activist like Brittny, or the scarred child like Casey. I was stupid as a kid and it makes some pretty good stories. 

When I was around four years old I was hanging out in my front driveway, waiting for my mom to come through the garage. 


Our garage door had a handle on the outside, so that if the power went out, we were still able to open it. I got a bright idea. I'm not sure which one it was, but I have narrowed it down to two ideas:
1. I was gonna help lift up the door
or 
2. That it would be fun to hold on to the door as it went up. 
So I waited, with both of my hands on the handle, waiting for my mom to press the button to open the door. 


When my mom did open the door, I helped lift/held on tight. 


This is when I'm pretty sure I forgot to let go. I held on so tight that I was lifted off the ground and started to freak out. My mom hadn't noticed me hanging from the door until I started screaming. She then had to run to hit the button to stop the door and grab me before I fell. She got me down pretty easily so all was well.


No harm. No foul. 


But I'm pretty sure I wasn't trusted alone with the garage door for awhile afterwards.


Happy Monday :)

How To Thursday: How to Befriend 6-Year-Olds

So I haven't had a chance to talk about my work yet. As it says in our intro, I work in a school; specifically with special needs kids. But I do get moved around a lot.

I consider it a good day when I get assigned to kindergarten. Those lil tykes are absolutely hilarious. The problem is, they are also sort of evil...so you definitely want to be on their good side. Here is a simple list of simple tricks to entertain and ensure your safety.

1. Tell them you are a ninja.

This may seem like a copout to a classic but if you make it believable it wins them over. I had to resort to this one during a particularly  crazy craft session. The trick is to teach your mini ninjas that they can only be part of your flipout (yup that's right, a group of ninjas is a flipout...crazy right?) if they keep the ninja code of silence and not tell anyone else of their skills. This will result in a lot of whispering and random HIIIIIIEEE YAAAs in the hallway when you approach. Its pretty epic.

2. When they ask your age, tell them you are 407.

Everyone answers 100. Not so impressive anymore. Saying 400 isn't that believable whereas 407 creates questions like "What did you do on your 406th birthday?" Or "You've seen dinosaurs right?". Ya that one is fun.

3. If they are reluctant to pack their things in their backpacks and lineup...pretend to steal their stuff, put it on and stand in their line-up.

For some reason they find this absolutely hilarious. I'm  just waiting for them to not pay attention so I can actually steal their backpacks...there are some pretty awesome ones out there.

So here are the basics

...happy kid-manipulating! :)

Memory Monday : Chalk Trickery

     Now as a child, I was no Kyla, I wasn’t one for shoving things in my nose, or putting myself in harm’s way in general. I used to love, I mean l-o-v-e sidewalk chalk. I don’t know how much time I spent doing crap drawings all over the ground, which were no doubt very clever. 

     When I got a little older, my friend and I discovered how to make really badass mud cakes (no, not mud pies, those are childish). We made them look pretty fantastic. We made frosting, out of powdered chalk and water. We were soon inspired to mash up white chalk, mix it with water and call it “whipped cream”. Boy did we think we were smart. Using our wits to trick those around us, we went around the culdesac, telling all the townspeople that it was delicious, fresh whipped cream (with dirt and rocks in it). I remember being asked why our moms gave us a handful of whipped cream, and I do not know what our answer was. I still don’t know how one could answer that. 

     One of our neighbours came around when we were still making out faux whipped cream, and we demanded she eat some. No dice. But, she did say “maybe later”, which to us meant “absolutely!”. This caused us to cackle madly over how clever we were. No doubt, shattering any faith the neighbour had in us. Oops. She never did come back and eat it.


And happy first post of April! :)

How to Name Random People

As mentioned before, Casey and I are in the same english class, but we are also a history class together. Both of these fall on Mondays so we spend all monday together (11:30am to 9:10pm). Having the classes together, we end up talking about the people in the classes a lot. But we faced a problem when we don't know the people in the classes names.


We came up with a solution to this, and it is to name the people ourselves. Some are creative. Some are not. Either way I'm gonna explain how we choose the names of people. 


Formally known a McGiggles, now known as Chops, he is a guy who sits two rows in front of us. His original name was chosen as he chooses to laugh at the most un-funny things. Also randomly. And I know we can't bash a guy for being happy, but he also chooses to NOT laugh at things which are actually funny. Odd. 


This is the first way of naming someone. You can take a personalty trait of theirs and apply it to their name. This process worked for Glasses as well. Glasses if a prime example of this type of naming. Known by her friends and family as Grace, we name her Glasses because she feels the need to constantly adjust her glasses. It occurs when she talks, when she is taking notes, or when she references her french class


We then changed McGiggles' name to Chops when he arrived one class with the makings of 'chops' growing on his face. He didn't even have sideburns before; he just jumped right into the facial hair spectrum. I would share a picture of them because the next class Casey and I did try (Boy did we try), but we didn't succeed. So here is an approximate picture of what his look like. 

Now, for Chops, we took a physical feature of his, and used it for his name. This is a second way of naming someone. This type of naming followed for people in our class such a "Guy-With-the-Hat, Right-Side-of-the-Room, Front" (we actually know his name, its Ryan), and "rude bald guy". 


We then have a third way of naming someone and that is by nick names. This is a recent additive to Casey and my name vocabulary, and originated by our classmate Paul. One day when Dean was missing from class, Paul mentioned something about Deaner. That name has now stuck.


Creativity is encouraged when naming random people. Try to avoid being mean, but ironic is sometimes accepted. Often the obvious names are the funniest, so don't be afraid to go simple. Its a crazy world out there, filled with many Stephanies, Jennifers, and Marks, so distinguish between them all with creative names that you can actually remember. :)

Memory Monday: Sparklers of Death

So sparklers.

They scare the living daylights out of me. Probably because they scarred me...literally.

It all started one Halloween night. I was in grade 2, so sevenish? I don't remember what I was dressed up as that year- but it was probably pretty epic as my mom was pretty creative with costume designs.

I lived/still live on a pretty awesome street. Everyone used to know each other and after everyone had made the rounds for candy collection we would all go to the top of the street to the rich peoples house where there was a soiree and fireworks.

I was standing beside the bonfire roasting a marshmallow when a lady leaned over me with a fistful of unlit sparklers. She lit them in the fire and as she was leaning back to hand them to whoever was behind me she dropped a few on my head.

I freaked.

Duh.

They burnt right down to my scalp, luckily only left a small burn and didn't even scab but it did leave an embarrassing bald patch on my head.

Its funny, I didn't really blame the lady for much. I remember re-telling the story to my pals at school the next day and saying that the sparklers were evil. My story got more and more dramatic and by the end of the day I had convinced myself that the sparklers had leaped out of the stupid woman's hand and were aiming to bore right through my skull to set my brain on fire.

Therefore, every time I see the fire spitting devils I instinctively check behind me for a lady with butterfingers; the keeper of the sparklers of death.

The End.