Fun, Fact Friday

I don’t know about you all, but I am so pumped this week is over.  My brain has yet to fully reengage after my lengthy Christmas vacay, so work has been somewhat of a struggle.  Literally things are so foggy that I could not remember the name of the building next door to my office.  Now I should note that I work at my alma mater and as such have been here for six years.  I’m just saying, you’d think this crap would be ingrained by now.  With that said, I am making today Fun Fact Friday so as to avoid taxing my brain any more than absolutely necessary.  Since I have been spending a lot of QT with the fam of late these all happen to be fun, family facts or, more accurately, the 4 biggest tragedies inflicted upon me by my parents.

Public Transportation is the worst. There are a vast number of reasons as to why I absolutely abhor transporting publicly, but in the end it all boils down to an intensely traumatic experience I had as a child.  At the ripe old age of 7, my mother decided it was high time I learn how to ride the city bus.  Now why she thought this might be necessary is really beyond me.  I was too much a of a priss to even ride the school bus, so the chances of me somehow wandering away from her and boarding the CDTA were slim to none.  Nevertheless, one balmy August day she walked me to the main thoroughfare in our town and we hopped on the bus.  Just as I was starting to feel okay with the idea of riding the bus, the driver abruptly pulled over.  A myriad of problems raced through my little mind, but none of them were even close to what happened next.  In the back of the bus there was a homeless man taking advantage of the air conditioning on board and quietly napping.  Well, apparently the driver was having none of it because he promptly started kicking the man and yelling at him.  My mother took one look at my horrified face and we disembarked.  I didn’t ride a bus for another 11 years.

My parents refuse to buy me a boat. So, sometimes I get these ideas in my head and I can’t drop them until they have been realized.  Case in point, a few years ago I went to Aruba with my parents and after seeing all the yachts in the marina decided that we needed to get a boat.  Never mind that we live a decent distance from the ocean and that I flat out refuse to go near fresh bodies of water, it was a dire need.  Obviously, my parents knew I was not going to give up on this no matter how many times my mom told me ‘no’ on account of pirates.  So, being the loving, doting individuals they are they bought me a boat for my 19th birthday!  Just kidding, those bastards told me to shut it and offered to paint my name in pink on the side of the canoe.  This was about 5 years ago and I’m still waiting to smash a bottle of Andre on the canoe’s hull.

I am a horrible driver. In the 7 years I have had my license I have gone through half as many cars.  Early on, I just had a knack for crashing them into things, such as other vehicles on the road and convenience stores.  Now, my parents are no fools, and they caught on the fact that I was trouble behind the wheel pretty quickly.  They blame it on stupid things like me not paying attention and going too fast.  I blame it on the fact that they didn’t buy me a Barbie Jeep when I was a child.

I am anti-manual labor. I’m pretty sure I started chanting this mantra in the womb. For the most part I try really hard to stick with it, but my parents don’t really seem to care whether I am for or against hard labor as long as the project is completed. For instance, when I was 11 we got a pool. In order to save a buck my parents decided that the 3 of us could clear the yard of tree roots and level the ground.  Needless to say, I sobbed and pitched an absolute fit the entire time my mom had me down in that hole clipping roots.  Instead of cluing in on the fact that this might be child abuse and letting me go play she wrinkled her nose and through gritted teeth growled, “If I knew then what I know now, you would not be getting a sprinkler let alone a pool!”  What a B, right?

Let me just tell you, when Medallion heard these stories and the 9,000,000,000+ others she said, “Well no wonder, you are so high maintenance. You’ve had a tough life.” Please, girl, don’t I know it.


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