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Author Topic: Childhood Stories  (Read 3059 times)

Culise

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #30 on: July 23, 2015, 12:52:27 pm »

Not much from me.  I used to stay up extra-late just to watch midnight showings of Star Trek and TNG.  I still remember the old CRT that was older than me and came over from Korea which had manual dials for stuff like the vertical as well as these dilapidated rabbit-ears that needed to be tuned like something out of a sitcom, as well as later sitting in the family room next to the then-modern TV (also a CRT, but connected to an antenna on the roof) with the volume turned all the way down.  I even remember the first episode of TOS that I saw - Is There In Truth No Beauty, the episode with the medusan alien that was ugly enough to drive humans insane on sight. 

My door was once broken due to an argument I had with my younger sister.  I slammed and locked my bedroom door.  She took umbrage at this, wound up at the end of the hall, and took a charging run that ripped the hasp right out of the doorframe.  She also, when my father was late to pick her up for an important something-or-other, once accidentally kicked a hole in the wall, which I mostly remember because I was in the next room and heard a loud thunk, followed by a really sheepish "oops." 

We once pulled together money at Sunday school for a Honduran charity, which our student leader (not sure what the title would be; he wasn't a minister) flew down there personally to do volunteer work.  For souvenirs, he came back with machetes.  I still have mine, actually.  I still have no idea what my parents thought about their kid coming out of the church waving around this great big honking blade in a fancy leather scabbard, though actually, I suppose I could make a pretty good guess.  Needless to say, I didn't see that thing again for years.

Not mine, but my grandfather had some interesting childhood stories from World War 2 in the occupied Netherlands - the one that really sticks out to me was having an Allied bomber ditching its payload over the beach he was playing on (only thing that saved his life was apparently how deep the sand was; the bomb went into the sand, which redirected the force - as well as a decent amount of sand - straight up).  A bit older than that, my great-grandmother came over through the North Sea mines just after the previous War before they were cleared, though tales of all-night watches aside, that was thankfully a quiet story, and my maternal grandfather lost his foot to Japanese occupiers in a story I never got.  My childhood was, thankfully, quite boring compared to them or my mother. 
« Last Edit: July 23, 2015, 12:54:42 pm by Culise »
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Eric Blank

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #31 on: July 23, 2015, 05:42:30 pm »

Out of interest which war?

Assuming DJ's not super ancient, probably the Bosnian War.
Yup.
Out of interest which war?
Bosnian.

Anyway, my brother actually let both my skateboards get stolen within a week or two of purchasing them. I got my first skateboard when I was five. We lived in the suburbs of a city, a pretty shady area. So we knew we needed to lock everything up or bring it inside. My brother, even though he was only 4, also recognized this, kinda, as he would take care of all his own things. But he also gets to play with mine as well, you see? Sharing is caring. But then he took my skateboard to try to learn to ride it on the sidewalk, and leaves it sitting outside on the porch when he comes in. He literally watches as a kid strolls up and steals it, and doesn't say anything until later when I'm asking where he put it. Our neighbors in that house also ran over my first cat. ;-;

This happened again, basically the same way, when we were 8/9. My skateboard was a birthday present this time, so right after Christmas when it's literally useless because there is no open pavement to play on. Come spring thaw, I get to play with it a little, and I share it with him again. And he leaves it outside, on the porch, and some kid nicks it, again.

Siblings are the worst. This is, anyway, why I never actually learned how to skateboard properly. Never got another one.
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Generally me

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #32 on: July 23, 2015, 06:05:58 pm »

Sibling are terrible. My older brother shared absolutely nothing.

He had stacks of unopened presents in his room that I really wanted. But because they were his I wasn't allowed to use them. The one time he let me use one. A few minutes after I started playing he got jealous and punched me, then took it back.

Then the one day I was waiting behind the door in his room to surprise him. He opened it, I surprised him. He then picked me up and threw me against my wooden bed frame. He then ran back in his room once he realised he had hurt me really badly and locked the door.

I always told myself I would never forgive him when he did stuff like that. But the next day we would be best friends again, it was pretty stupid.
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Loud Whispers

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #33 on: July 23, 2015, 08:12:00 pm »

Spoiler (click to show/hide)
I think I'll post more later, I'm surprised I remember this much and I think the act of remembering some of them is bringing back old memories. I got some good, some bad, and some ugly, and if I get them down here I sure as hell won't forget them and once it's on the internet it's there forever for better or for worse. And really I'm not too bothered if people are amused in any way by my life stories, these aren't ones I've not told before.

Eric Blank

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #34 on: July 23, 2015, 10:00:50 pm »

Can't believe I read half of that... You should just publish an autobiography :P
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I make Spellcrafts!
I have no idea where anything is. I have no idea what anything does. This is not merely a madhouse designed by a madman, but a madhouse designed by many madmen, each with an intense hatred for the previous madman's unique flavour of madness.

Itnetlolor

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #35 on: July 23, 2015, 10:18:39 pm »

Looking back at much of my life, I think we're truly insane. By mean of we, I'm not just talking about myself, but my siblings too.

For starters, while most people hunker down during hurricanes, we're outside with a skateboard and bedsheets, paragliding and parasailing the winds. After some time doing that, we go to the nearby beachwall, and dodge waves, and sometimes, intentionally get crushed by a wave, and ride the current into the surf, and ride the next waves back to shore. Of course, to step up our game, we also had some rocks to climb across/over to dodge waves on as well. Good times. Still fun to do as an adult.

That's just one of many things we've done that was crazy fun.

cherry-hearts

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #36 on: July 31, 2015, 04:14:14 am »

M'kay, I've got a good story from when I was a kid.

So, it was 5th grade, and there was this one kid who was a HUGE jerk. He was always mad and rarely talked unless it was to insult someone. I tried to be friendly with him at first, but he would always just glare at me or call me annoying or tell me to go away or what have you. He was always on his own, obviously; his attitude was not the type that made friends. Looking back, I think he might have had autism or something, because he didn't seem to have the capability to interact with other people like a normal person would.

Anyway, near the end of the year there was this field trip, and there were a bunch of parent chaperones. So, some of them were gossiping, and I overheard some of their conversation. That's where I discovered that my bully was adopted. I never knew this before, but once I did, I got a bit of a confidence booster knowing that I had dirt on him.

It's true what they say, bully's are the real losers, not the ones they pick on.
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Tack

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #37 on: July 31, 2015, 07:01:44 am »

Ptw. I have a massive chunk of them.
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XXXXYYYY

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #38 on: July 31, 2015, 07:48:58 am »

I don't have that many, and the ones I have aren't that good, but I was one destructive child. Not destructive as in "wants to break/destroy everything", but more in the sense of "Fiddles with things, often wrecking them in the process." By the age of around five, I'd destroyed:
  • A tv or two. (I would sit there and turn them on and off to watch the static.)
  • The car AC, sticking it on maximum power and burning hot all the time, including the summer. (It was one of the sliding-bar selector ones. There was a tray full of loose change. Do the math.) [Note: I was actually put in the car to try and prevent me from breaking things/doing my other stuff while my parents did some cleaning]
  • At least 2 computers. (One time when I was really little, I was my parents cleaning the screen with some cleaning fluid. When they left the room, I, of course, copied them. The thing is, they only used a small amount of fluid, because only a little was necessary. I just kept spraying, until some of the fluid ended up dripping into the computer and shorting the poor thing. The other was just through me shoving stuff into the various slots.)
  • All of the spices we owned. (I decided to 'cook' breakfast for my parents when I got up early once. This consisted of pouring all of the spices and oil into a pot and putting it on the (thankfully cold) stove.)
I also had a few tendencies around that age, such as me tying most/all of the doors/cabinets in the house together with string and then wrapping the knots in fine wire, twirling various objects, and getting black eyes from stupid sources (A habit that continued into my early teens, and included such glorious methods as: Playing (sand-weighted) lawn darts with a friend, getting in a misunderstanding with said friend when carrying a long pole made out of those huge version of tinker-toy things up some stairs (I pulled it up, he thought I was gonna poke him with it, he pushed it towards me, it caught me in the eye), and my sister jumping into a beanbag chair next to mine, missing, and landing on my face.).
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Generally me

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #39 on: August 03, 2015, 07:04:27 am »

The spice thing is something I did with my friends.

We would take all the spices out of the pantry, mix them into some soup or porridge then add some more weird shit. we would then lure insects into the disgusting gloopy stuff and watch them try to swim around it. It was a bit cruel.
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Eric Blank

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #40 on: August 14, 2015, 04:58:54 pm »

When I was a kid I would take a plastic tupperware, fill it with water, then mix in paper glue, the ink sticks from markers and pens, clay, and some other junk and just forget about it when nothing interesting happened. My mother was always so pissed when all the water evaporated and she had a tupperware container with technicolor glue and dirt stuck all over it. Then you'd get dead bugs stuck in the glue, usually carpenter ants.
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I make Spellcrafts!
I have no idea where anything is. I have no idea what anything does. This is not merely a madhouse designed by a madman, but a madhouse designed by many madmen, each with an intense hatred for the previous madman's unique flavour of madness.

Orange Wizard

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #41 on: August 19, 2015, 04:06:03 am »

I remember doing stuff like that. Grab a bunch of stuff from the pantry (eggs, oil, gelatin, tomato sauce...), mix it all together, and leave the resulting abomination to fester in a jar for a few weeks. Then get yelled at for wasting ingredients or something.

...

That's where I discovered that my bully was adopted. I never knew this before, but once I did, I got a bit of a confidence booster knowing that I had dirt on him.

It's true what they say, bully's are the real losers, not the ones they pick on.
That seems totally fair and reasonable. Prejudice towards someone due to circumstances outside of their control? Nothing wrong with that.

Anyway, I'm off to lynch some niggers and adopted kids.
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Spehss _

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #42 on: August 20, 2015, 07:56:24 pm »

Oh. Here's one.

Around sophomore or junior year of high school me and a couple friends went over to a friend's house to play video games and hang out. ~4 of us total. They were all good friends I had known for years, with my best friend hosting, whom I had known since second grade (7 years old) and we were super close friends. I'll refer to him as [A]. I'd go over to [A]'s house and play games and hang out with him regularly ever since first meeting him and finding out he lived one street away. We had sleepovers and shit. When we were super young we'd hug one another as a farewell after play dates. Good friends.

So anyway. back to the setting of the story, high school years. We were playing Mario Kart on Rainbow Road or something and I was doing terrible and having a bad time. We were all loudly joking and talking and generally making noise while playing. [A] did something or other that wound up getting me in first place. Blue shell or lightning or something.

Cue me shouting out "A, I love you!" as I win the race in first.

Cue dead silence. Awkward couple of seconds pass. No one says anything. Suddenly realizing how what I just said could be interpreted, I lamely add to the end "uh, as a friend. You're my best friend... You made me win the race." Still awkward silence.

Eventually conversation starts back up. Everyone ignored the awkward moment. We kept playing like nothing happened and never brought it up again. Stayed friends with [A] and the rest up until high school graduation and we all separated to go to different colleges and shit.

I'm asexual and straight but a bromance is a bromance, ain't nothing wrong with that.
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RedKing

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #43 on: August 20, 2015, 08:17:26 pm »

When I was about 4 or 5, we had a table lamp that was missing a bulb. I looked at the shiny copper contact plate inside the socket and wondered what it tasted like. Turns out it tastes like copper.

Then I wondered what it tasted like when the lamp was turned on, and flicked the switch with my tongue still in the socket.
Turns out it tastes like BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Thankfully it was one of those kind where the switch was just a toggle plug that you push in from side to turn on and push in from the other side to turn off. Because that kind of motion was still within my capabilities.
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Jopax

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Re: Childhood Stories
« Reply #44 on: August 21, 2015, 03:44:40 am »

That reminds me of that one time I saw an iron sitting on a table and wanted to know if it was on or not. So I placed my hand on it.

Turns out it was very on and very hot.
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