It Seemed Like A Good Idea

My mom has a talent for misjudging a situation and thinking something is a good idea when it clearly isn’t. Exhibit A: When I was younger I had to get my blood drawn. I was sitting there calmly and doing just fine gazing at the wall…until my mom told me to look at the needle. She thought, since I was doing so well with the whole process, that I could handle it. Apparently I turned to look and melted into a puddle of terror and tears as I watched my blood bubble up into the vial. The nurse was not pleased with this turn of events. And then there was the time she decided to take my little brother and me through our first car wash. Once we got in there, with no chance of escape, we were both scared out of our minds and freaked the fuck out/mildly panicked.

It seems as though I have inherited the gift of misjudgement. I’ve compiled a list of my own fails for amusement:

  • There was the time Carly and I decided to tie our feet together (as you do in a 3 legged race) and jump off the diving board into my pool. The result? We almost drowned. We had a lot of trouble coordinating our swimming actions with each other and ended up laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe. We remained stuck in the middle of my pool for a good 10 minutes, laughter and flailing limbs quickly sapping our energy. I’m still not entirely sure how we made it out of that one alive.
  • Then there was the time my neighbor Candace and I thought it would be a fun idea to sneak into Mr. Martin’s backyard (a mean and incredibly scary man who once chased a mailman down the street, hurling insults at him whilst brandishing a chair). She would play lookout and I would run from one end of the backyard to the other. Heart racing, I ran to the end of the yard, touched the woodpile by the fence, and began to swagger triumphantly back across the lawn. Apparently Candace was a real shit lookout because I was about halfway  when the door flew open and Mad Martin himself came barreling out in a ball of rage, spitting curses at me. The result? I almost pooped my pants with fear. And I began my high jump career by clearing the fence by a few good inches, only touching it with my hand for a brief second before barricading myself in the garage.
  • I have tried on multiple accounts to dye my hair using the cheapest means possible. The first time was in New Zealand when Erin and I wanted to dye the tips of our hair red and blue for the USA vs. Australia game. Since my hair is dark, we found a hair lightener/bleach that I applied multiple times to the tips of my hair. We proceeded to add color by using a cheap NZ version of koolaid. The whole process took hours, and a lot of tin foil. The result? Mustard colored tips. For starters, the koolaid washed out immediately. Not only did that fail, but the dying of my tips failed as well. My hair did not turn bleach blonde like the box advertised but rather just made it a little lighter. I thought it looked more reddish but when I was talking to someone on skype they said it looked mustard yellow. The second time was a more recent attempt in Spokane, and Dana and I tried to dye our hair using soft pastels. Per usual, we were too cheap to go all out and decided to buy the least expensive pastels. You are supposed to wet your hair, color it with the pastels, and let it dry before straightening it and locking in the color. The result? Frizzy hair. And a powdery rainbow of a mess in the bathroom. But no color in our hair whatsoever. Since we actually colored our hair like you would a picture, we essentially just ratted the ends to oblivion, and when the pastels dried they became chalky again and the color wouldn’t stick (hmmm, maybe because we didn’t actually dye it?). We walked around in a myriad of blue, purple and red powdery chalk clouds for a while before having to change into our nice clothes to watch graduation. Dana failed to dye her hair red, but she did manage to dye her neck.
  • One time Trista, Leona and I decided to explore an opera house at a 21st birthday we were crashing in New Zealand.  I found a little door that led into the dark rafters and decided to explore it. As I was standing there alone, contemplating how similar this looked to that attic scene in The Grudge, Trista and Leona closed the door. They thought it was would be funny to engulf me in total darkness. The result? I was locked in the dark rafters of a strange opera house. Those two didn’t exactly count on not being able to open the door once they closed it. We all shared a moment of panic on our prospective sides of the door when it refused to budge. I can’t remember if there was no doorknob, it was just stuck, or the doorknob threatened to fall off at the slightest resistance, but eventually I was freed. Saved us the awkwardness of explaining to someone why we were snooping around behind the scenes of a closed off opera house in the first place.
  • Senior year of uni, Megan and I decided to have a wine night. A couple of bottles later she realized she had to go play intramural basketball, and in my drunken state I decided to go mock her. Turns out her team was short on players. The result? I had to play. Have you ever tried to play basketball while wine drunk? It sucks.
  • On my 22nd birthday I decided to start the night off with a power shower and shots. We then played Kings Cup before going out, in which everyone targeted me because I was the birthday girl. The result? Waking up the next morning wearing a bling Jesus necklace and covered in Crisco to a table full of toilet paper and a forgotten memory of stealing all of it from every boy’s pod in Duvall on the Whitworth campus.
  • When I was younger I attempted a 007/ninja kick type jump move onto my bed. The result? A broken ceiling fan light.
  • I also thought it would be a great idea to jump from my bed into the hall because I was scared of something underneath the bed grabbing my ankles. I miscalculated the jump. The result? Possible concussion. And definite lack of consciousness. I took a flying leap and realized a little too late that my jump was slightly more enthusiastic than I had planned for. Forehead, meet door frame. Like two UFC fighters we took each other on, and in case you couldn’t guess, the door frame won. I was thrown back onto my bed, my world began to get blurry, and it felt like an elephant was sitting on my brain.After a few seconds of writhing in pain, all went dark, which was fine by me because as soon as I came to that elephant was still there.
  • I must have been in some sort of wannabe badass phase of life, because about the same time I broke my light by ninja rolling onto my bed I also attempted to handcuff my own hands behind my back and escape from them. I don’t know if I was planning for my potential future or if I had just watched too many movies. I got maybe halfway out of it, one leg cocked back and wedged quite securely between my back and the handcuffs as I hopped about the room in a vain attempt to keep my balance before crashing into a chair. The result? A face plant and a fail.
  • Let’s not forget the time my friend Priscilla and I decided to play ‘beanie baby express’, which consisted of the two of us hurling beanie babies at each other from across the room as a form of ‘express mail’ while I sat on a tower of large Tupperware storage containers. The result? A broken closet door. Priscilla tossed it too high and, instead of letting it go, I outstretched my arms towards the ceiling as I threw myself backwards to catch it…thus toppling my tower and flinging myself into the closet.

I’m an idiot. Making this list has given me more than my fair share of laughs for the day (as well as a good walk down memory lane) so I guess that makes it all worth it. I can think of a million more things but I won’t put them all up because this post would go on forever. Thanks for the genes, Mom.

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