Tell Us Stories About You From The Past

ready set go

When I was little and getting ready for bed my mom told me she had a surprise for me. She pulled out some candy, like, a jawbreaker or something (told me not to chew, of course), but it was small and yeah. So I took it and I started eating it. Like 10 seconds later I started to cry. She asked me what was wrong because I was, like, really sad out of nowhere. I said that I didn't like the candy, that I was sorry that I didn't like it. She said it was fine, I didn't do anything wrong, yeah. I was crying because I thought if I said I didn't like it she'd be really sad and I didn't want my mom to be sad so I felt bad about it.

I used to be kinda cute and not lame, see? :V

ur turn

"Post it in Swedish tho, so no one can read it" - Rose
"jes jole, post in swedish, i demand it" - Masada

Jag får väl ta och berätta någon historia helt enkelt. Jag måste ju erkänna att det inte finns allt för många intressanta historier från min barndom, så det får bli en historia från inte allt för länge sen.

Ungefär en timme från stan där jag bor ligger en by som heter Sälen, byn är inte så stor, men precis intill byn ligger Sälen fjällen, vilket är det sydligaste fjället i Sverige. Så det kommer många turister dit varje vinter för att åka skidor, och bara festa mycket. Så varje år anställer dom väldigt många säsongs arbetare upp dit. Min kompis tog ett sånt jobb och åkte dit för att stå i en skiduthyrning. När det var cirka en och en halv månad kvar på det här jobbet så ringde han mig och berättade att dom behövde folk, för att det var så många som hoppat av under säsongen. Så jag tog chansen och åkte upp den sista månaden. Jobbet var rätt skoj, och folket jag jobbade med var roliga dom också, vi festade massor, drack massa alkohol såklart, och hade bara roligt för det mesta under tiden jag var där. Men när det bara var en och en halv eller två veckor kvar, när vi var ute på krogen en kväll, så skojade jag med min kompis och sa att vi borde klättra upp för skidbacken och åka pulka mer. Han skrattade bort det, efter som det var ju bara ett skämt. Men några timmar senare efter mycket alkohol, så sa han att det var dags att åka pulka i skidbacken. Så vi började klättra upp för backen, vilket var sjukt jobbigt, tänk dig att klättra upp för ett berg täckt av is. Det tog ungefär 40 minuter att komma upp till toppen. Men när det var dags att åka ner, så kändes det värt det. Det gick fort som fan, men det var sjukt roligt också. Men på vägen ner så tappade min kompis en sak i backen, så jag stannade och gick för att plocka upp den. Som sagt så var det ett berg täckt av is, så på vägen i mitt fulla tillstånd så halkade jag och kände hur jag föll åt ett håll, och min fot böjdes åt ett annat. När jag ramlade så kunde jag inte ens stanna, det var ju bara is, så jag gled ner för berget och gjorde allt jag kunde för att få stopp på mig själv. När jag väl lyckades stanna så stod jag på alla fyra och skrek utav smärtan i foten. När jag sen kollade upp så fick jag se min kompis åka förbi mig på sin pulka, peka på mig, och skratta åt mig. Men när vi tog oss ner en bit så insåg han att jag antagligen faktiskt hade gjort illa mig på riktigt och hjälpte mig ner för berget. Sen så var vi ju fulla, så det var inte så mycket mer att göra än att gå hem och lägga sig. När jag vaknade nästa morgon så hade min fot svullnat upp till en tennis boll. Det såg inte bra ut. Så jag fick skippa jobbet sista dagarna medans min fot lugnade ner sig. Sen så åkte jag hem till Mora igen, och levde vidare som vanligt, jag kände fortfarande av foten, men vid det här laget kunde jag gå på den igen iallafall. Men efter en månad av att fortfarande känna av foten så bestämde jag mig att det var nog bäst att åka till lasarettet så att dom kan kolla på den. Det visade sig att jag hade brutit foten, och att jag nu skulle få gå 6 veckor med gips. Jag har tyvärr inte ett sånt bra slut på den här historien, så jag antar att jag bara avslutar det här. Så tack för mig.

I have literally so many to tell that I have no idea where to begin. I suppose the only ones anyone would care about would be the ones where horrible things happened to me for no raisin.

Alright. So, highschool, I'm into this one girl, we talk alot, we're in a sexual relationship, whatevs. She gets with one of Fountain's friends, and we cut it off because she doesn't wanna cheat. Which is completely reasonable, ya know? But I'm just sittin' there one day, and I get a text from her.

>How's it going, sexy?

So, anyone who can pick up on signals knows thats green light territory right there, cleared for landing. So I text back flirtatiously, ya know? I send some flirty thing along, and the text I get back is:

>guess who this is?

"Hey, boyfriendguy."

Her boyfriend had taken her phone, and texted me flirtatiously pretending to be her to trick me into coming onto her, so he could... catch... me... flirting? It was this complicated set up just to get me to stop talking to her. A trap of pure assholishness.

Love that guy, we're pretty chill now.

A couple years ago, I went on a girls' camping trip with my roommates to this camping ground that's located on a beach. This was in January, so it was pretty cold (well, cold for Florida) so I'm all bundled up and drinking PBRs to gain a liquor jacket.

I'm the first one to pass out in the tent and I wake up in the middle of the night with the sudden urge to pee. The closest bathroom is about a 15 minute walk from the site, so I decided in my drunken state that I couldn't hold it that long and went to go pee in the sand dunes instead.

Now, being a girl, we have to squat to pee in the wilderness in the most uncomfortable way. So, there I am in the dunes, in the dark peeing. I place my hand on the ground for some stability and it lands on a pokey sticker thing. In shock, I fell back--MID PEE--and my bare butt lands on a bunch more of those pokey stickers. I quickly sit up, finish my urinating, all while pulling sticker after sticker out of my butt.

I went back to sleep and woke up to find even more stickers. They were endless.

And that's why I don't pee in the wilderness anymore.

HAHAHA! That's hilarious. Thanks for coming up with a story in which I had to envision your butt.

I think this thread would be more active if we commented on the stories instead of just telling them.

@Fish Maybe he just really liked you, but chickened out last second?

Anyway, I've got a story. In October of 2014, I was in a production of Little Women, and I was playing the tutor. During the scene where Jo finds out my character and Meg had the hots for each other and freaks out, the actress playing the Aunt had a small breakdown backstage and couldn't come on. Now, here I am with my friend Brinn,(who was playing Jo.) not really knowing what to do if she wasn't on in time. Well, she didn't come on in time, so we had to start improving. We continued the argument from where the Aunt should have cut us off, ad libbing in new bits of dialogue. I had the general defense of "But we love each other! This is what happens when you get older, you fall in love!" While Brinn got quite... extravagant with her improvisation. She was in tears, as if Jo's character cared THAT much. I don't remember most of what she said, but one line stands out in particular:
"UGH! Just think of what Aunt March would say! I wish cell phones were invented so I could call her!"
It caught me off guard, and I had to respond with "Yes, if only!" and then steer it back on course. Granted, the audience burst into laughter, but our director was not happy.

Eventually the actress playing Aunt March collected herself and came on stage, and the play continued normally. But oh my God was our director angry.

Ah, Hayden, I didn't know you did theatre. Awesome story.

I take it Little Women is not a comedy?

I honestly have never seen nor read Little Women in my entire life. But I do know that getting a good reaction out of your audience is important even if not intended to be a comedy.

Hayden, that's great. I love improv on stage. I was in a murder-mystery last year where I wad the "director" - I got to hold a copy of the script the whole time which was neato. Unfortunately the majority of the people in it didn't know their lines very well. At one point in the play the main guy forgot a line and I started to give it to him. He told me, "Jean, I know my lines!..." paused for a few moments, and said "...I don't know my lines." Audience laughed and I quickly showed him where we were.

I got an award for best supporting actor because of how many times I had to save people in that play.

...Jean?

I'm going to assume the character's name was Jean.

Orca's real name is Jean AND he was playing a character named Jean.

@Megan's story, how did you not get piss all over yourself? Did you? Being drunk in the woods seems like a recipe for disaster.

@Hayden/Orca, You guys make me extremely sad that there was never a drama club or plays anywhere I went to school or anything.

Alright. Now it's time for another one of my horrid stories. So, my dad is going to court, and finds out he's going to jail, so my mom and him decide to get divorced around the same time. My dad writes up an officially thing, agreed upon by the courts to have my mother take custody of me.

So naturally, she says no and doesn't take it.

I end up living with my grandparents, who have no way to take custody of me and never adopted me because I staunchly refused, my dad was in jail, my mom denied custody, and I never entered foster care or ward of the court status.

I was legally homeless for five years of my life.

@Fish, well at least you aren't half-adopted. And lucky you weren't put into the foster care system. Are you sure though you were in custody of your mom or your dad and they just told you you weren't under their custody while your grandparents took you in?

I was present while my grandparents spent three hours trying to explain how I had no legal guardian and no custodian. I have no idea how I was even able to attend highschool. I recall my grandparents desperately trying to adopt me so they could get me on their taxes, but my mom couldn't give them custody because she didn't have it, and paperwork for me being a court ward didn't exist.

That's so incredibly weird. And you weren't an emancipated minor then either, I take it?

@Megan, apparently I missed your story entirely. I half-expected you to end the story with, "And that's why I don't pee anymore." Very funny story though.

@Fish, you don't know how much I love that story. It amuses me that you were legally homeless while living under your grandparent's roof.

I was not emancipated, no. And I'm glad you like the story Nex XD

Speaking of, you've heard most of my stories, man, do you have any requests for ones I should tell here?

My mom used to call me "The Terrorist" when I was little, because I was a terrible child.

My uncle would tell me this one particular story about an office Mercenary Day party that my mom was hosting. Apparently, in my toddler-probably-drunk-on-sugar youth, I decided it would be a GREAT idea to go up to the big company Mercenary Day tree and start taking down all of the ornaments and smashing them together!

Then, after being caught for that debacle, in my attempts to run away, I grabbed hold of a microphone that was connected to speakers and starting singing "La la la!" over and over into the microphone as my mother, my uncle, and multiple other guests were chasing me down. I was more of a badass rebel at age 4 than I am now.