Lies, Old People Clubbing, and Water Guns = My Childhood

Hello lovely readers, it’s Sunday! My new official day for blog posts. Yay for organization!

I told you in my last post that this would be a continuation of the same topic: my home. And not just where I live, but the immediate area around me and the other people who live there.

I guess I’ll start with my neighbor, Liz. When she was young, she was a compulsive liar. Sometimes her lies would get her into trouble (more like all the time) but I really don’t think she meant anything by it; she honestly couldn’t help it. For example: when she was in kindergarten she told her teacher that her parents died in the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center. I’m not sure how a five-year old thinks up something like that, but she did. Her teacher called the principle and the principle called Liz’s house, apologizing to the woman who picked up the phone for her loss. That woman was Liz’s mom. She had to explain that neither she nor her husband had been killed in the attack. Nope, they were definitely alive. But she thanked her for the concern anyway.

Then there’s the Ram’s Horn a stone’s throw from my house. It’s open 24/7 and completely packed 100% of the time. I’m not sure if that’s the way these restaurants are all across the country, but it is constantly full–even at 3am. And the weirdest part is that it’s ALWAYS old people. (By which I mean 80 years and up). I don’t know what the 80 year olds are doing awake at three o’clock in the morning, but whatever it is, you go grandpa! I bet they’re clubbing. Someone should invent a club for old people! Actually, on second thought, it would probably be best if that was never ever invented.

On an almost completely different note, let’s return to talking about neighbors. I live in a relatively small neighborhood, and Sophie (you can find her on the character bios page) lives right next door. We were the only girls our age growing up in a sea of boys (and before you think that sounds like the beginning of a tween romance, I am going to have to ask you to hold your horses). No, they were just flat out mean sometimes. You see, the whole “he/she is mean to you because he/she likes you” thing is a load of crap. We got nailed with water balloons, drenched with water guns, shot at with fake pistols, hit with paintballs, and sprayed with Axe body cologne (which tastes worse than it smells, by the way).

But don’t pity us! Oh no. We weren’t going to take that, so we got even. The day after the boys threw water balloons at us, my cousins came over–there’s a crap ton of them–and we had water balloons too. Then Sophie and I won the water gun fight because we went out and bought the two biggest water guns we could find. Those eight year old boys were so intimidated! (The only time I was ever cool). And when they sprayed us with Axe, we brought perfume the very next day, and guess who walked home smelling like warm vanilla sugar???

Oh yeah, that’s right! Bring it!

So there you are, more stories about my city and the people I grew up around. I hope you enjoyed these useless stories that probably have not affected your life at all, except–maybe–to make you laugh.

I best be off, there is work to be done! Oh. How exciting.



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