Friday, May 31, 2013

I've always had a flair for the dramatic. And dumb.

Day 31: A vivid memory.

I don't remember how old I was... probably 5... and I don't know if I actually remember this event or if I've heard the story so many times that I just think I do... but nonetheless - It's very vivid. 

It was shortly after my baby brother was born - from what I've heard - and remember - I went thru a bit of a  bratty phase. So we were at my grandpa's for a holiday or cookout and I was probably mouthing off and my Uncle Jim and I were standing in front of the garage and he said that if I didn't straighten up he was going to spank me. And I think I remember looking at him, little hand on my little hip {popped out, of course} and said quite matter of factly, "nobody spanks me but my mommy and daddy." {Mind you, I can't ever actually remember being spanked as a child - but it was just a "thing" people did or said when in trouble. Now, having your mouth washed out with soap... I remember that.} And my little sassy moment didn't win me any prizes that day... just a sore behind - because sure enough that comment had been the icing on the cake with my attitude. 

My Uncle Jim and I laugh at this nearly every chance we get. It was just one of those moments you don't forget. 

See, I've always had a flair for the dramatic... 

When I was around 6 or 7, Dad and I were on our way over to my Grandpa's house and I heard a buzzing in his truck. His old, orange, truck. And I have and have always had a real aversion to bees. So, I'm immediately alarmed when I hear this buzzing. I shriek, followed by "DADDDDYYYYYY! There's a bee!!!!" To which he replied, {and probably rolled his eyes} "You'll be fine, Jac. We're almost to Grandpa's." Almost wasn't close enough... I start waving my arms back and forth, sure he was going to get me. {But seriously, why have I always thought that the bees were going to kill me?} Meanwhile Dad is telling me to stop being such a nut... insert the scream of death... HE GOT ME! The little sucker was hanging out behind the seat... and while I was going all ape shit he stung my elbow and when I went crazy again, he stung my other arm. I screamed bloody murder the rest of the drive... {and the total drive from my house to my Grandpa's... 5 minutes.} My poor Dad. 

However, I think two of my most vivid memories involve two of my large injuries... because I don't get hurt because I fell or had an accident. No, I get hurt because I'm dumb. Because I clearly don't think through things sometimes...

I have a two inch scar on my shoulder. It's very noticeable. And I get asked about it often during the warmer months. I always laugh and say... "Turns out, cats can't fly." And I get that "huh?" look. Once upon a time I thought I'd see what happened when I threw a cat down a flight of stairs. {I promise you I wasn't trying to hurt her...I was just curious.}But... what resulted in this experiment was one very tearful little girl and one very pissed off cat. The cat didn't go anywhere aside from a very, very deep claw into my shoulder. I should have had stitches cause she got me good {and I deserved it} but I didn't. And now I just have a silly story to tell. 

I broke my leg when I was in 8th grade. It was the beginning of track season... and as all 8th grade, bitchy girls do... I had a guy in which I loathed. I couldn't stand him... so one day as we are walking to track practice I thought I'd be funny and trip him. I don't know if I realized he was sprinting to practice or not... but I did it regardless. Stuck my little leg out in front of him and "POP" his knee hit my shin so hard it cracked straight across the bone and popped his knee out of place. I failed to mention that he was about 5'10", a very solid 250 lbs, and one of the fastest sprinters on our team. 

You better believe I think twice about tripping anyone anymore. ;)

So this is it, guys. The end of the challenge and I've made it most of the way. Just those pesky weekends... always getting in the way of my blogging. ;)

Happy Friday, Y'all... lets bring June in right!

1 comment:

Gwen said...

Ouch!! When I was little I had to get stitches in the back of my head because I was jumping on my bed, fell and hit the footboard. Not too much later I had stitches in my forehead because we were jumping off my grandma's porch and my cousin pushed me and I landed on my face. Good times.