Tales of a Menace

When I was a youth (I love when people refer to themselves as “youth”) I caused a lot of trouble. Not like making messes or bullying other kids. Instead I would think of a scenario and say to myself, “What if I actually did that?” and then I would do it. And almost every time I upset someone.

I remember going into my next door neighbor’s yard to play after school one day. My brother came with me. I recall telling him to tell our neighbor, a girl his age, that giants were going to come and take her parents away. We both took her into her garage and concocted a story that would scare any 6 year old girl. She cried. We immediately said how sorry we were and how we were only joking. I didn’t realize that it would be so scary for her. Even though if someone did that to me, I would’ve freaked out.

In fourth grade, I knew my family was planning on moving. I didn’t really know how to tell my best friend, Kelly, that I was leaving. So I simply said, “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.” Looking back, I probably could’ve worded it better. Instead, she cried and I just avoided her until I moved. I really wanted to find her on Facebook and apologize for my 10 year old behavior. I haven’t been able to find her. What if she died of depression because her best friend in elementary school stopped talking to her?

Being young and stupid, I learned that cheating was the quickest and easiest way to get anything done. I remember asking a kid in my class what his answers were and he said “You’ll never learn anything if you cheat.” Actually, I learned a lot of things, like how to avoid doing homework. Well, one day, on our state capitals test, I forgot the capital of Vermont. I knew I couldn’t let that kid prove that I didn’t learn anything. So I thought fast. No, I didn’t think of the capital. But I did ask the teacher if I could go to the bathroom and then proceeded to ask a couple of girls in the bathroom what the capital of Vermont was. “Isn’t it Montpelier?” they said. “Ohhh yeah. Yes, it is!” I said, beaming. I went back to class, scribbled down Montpelier, and finished my test. All that work to prove that kid wrong, and he didn’t even notice my good grade.

From ages 12-17 I went to Girl’s Camp through my church during the summer. It was only a week long, but my friends and I would always end up getting into some sort of trouble. When I was 16, my friend and I decided it would be a good idea to play pranks on some of the camp leaders. We would sneak into their lodges (Why did they get lodges but we had to sleep outside?) and steal their stuff and hold it for ransom. We especially gave this one woman, Amanda, a hard time. Mostly because she was young and cute and had a way about her that seemed to say, “I know I’m young and cute.” She was a good sport about all the tricks we played on her. However, we knew there would be payback in store, so we bought a lock to keep our tent safe while we were away doing campy things. One day we came back and our lock had been cut right in half.  We opened our tent to find it filled with popcorn. I have to admit that it was clever. It probably took a lot of time and money to concoct such a plan. The thing is, the tent was my friend’s dad’s tent. His one rule was: ABSOLUTELY NO FOOD IN THE TENT. My friend and I panicked. But then we realized we could put all of the blame on someone else.

When we got home, my friend’s dad called Amanda and scolded her for ruining his tent. I mean, it was pretty buttery after that prank. The tent would no doubt attract every bear in the vicinity. Amanda got put in her place. Apparently she cried. That’s what she gets for stooping down to our level.

I think I’ve mostly grown out of my mean streak. It was bad when I was younger, and started to disappear as the years went on. Every now and then I’ll reminisce of the days when I liked causing trouble. I was much cooler back then.

A Canadian Chuckle

This is a House of Learned Doctors

My entire school career.

When I was in school, I didn’t try as hard as I could have. And by school, I mean high school – university. I never took anything super seriously, unless I was really interested in it. I picked my major by determining it was the subject that I hated the least. I liked the idea of school–getting ready, going to class, interacting with teachers and students, etc. But when it came down to the work, like most people, I hated it.

It’s weird looking back because I think, “Oh, if I was in school now, I would be so enthusiastic and give everything my all.” But would I? I think I said the same thing most years before school started. “Okay I’m ready for a fresh start.” Sooner or later my fresh start would become rotten.

Imagine going back to school having all of the knowledge that you’ve have accumulated since then. Easily Harvard material.

I think its hilarious when students write their papers the night before and get top marks. Only because I’ve done this. It’s the ultimate best when teachers warn you to start the project or essay months before and say that you’ll fail otherwise. Challenge accepted. Most of my teachers told our class that if we used wikipedia they would be able to tell, and it would be wrong. Welp, I used wikipedia in almost every paper, and guess what? They couldn’t tell, and I was right. Sign of brilliance.

The only reason I have studying on the brain is because Paul has to take about 5 conversion tests for his degree. Because we got our degrees in England, he has to convert his to the Canadian system. Whereas I don’t because I’m great. I feel bad though because he’s been studying so hard and I’ve been laying around watching Kourtney and Kim Take New York. Don’t judge me. Or do.

 

Canadian Monopoly

Blasphemy.

Last night I went over to my friend’s house (I’m making friends!) and we sat around thinking of things to do. We tossed around a couple ideas but we eventually settled on Monopoly. Is there really anything better to do on Friday nights? Only yes.

I’ve always liked the game of Monopoly. In my junior year of college we taught my brother to play Monopoly (who goes through life not knowing the beauty of Monops?). We probably played around 50 times that semester. More often then not I would quit playing because my brother would make deals with everyone else except me. Rude. I’m not sure if most people make deals when they play, but I’m pretty sure its considered cheating. For example, he would say, “I’ll give you Vermont Avenue if you let me stay on your property for free and give me St. James Place.”

The Monopoly game that my friend had was a Canadian version. It was so scary. First of all, it came with fake credit cards, most likely to prevent cheating, which sucks because cheating is awesome. But it also prevents math, which I applaud. You just type everything into an electronic box-no messing around with Monopoly money/Canadian money. However, the use of credit cards means that the amount of money used is realistic. You start off with 6 million! It just gets depressing after that.

All of the spots were places in Canada. Some were normal, like Toronto. Some were not, like Medicine Hat. They should re-name that city “Kill Me Now.”

The community chest cards were the best though. One of them said, “You won a contest by making the best maple syrup! Collect 500 k.” If there’s a real contest that gives out 500,000 for making the best maple syrup, I know what my new life goal is. Brb making syrup.