Tag Archives: story

Thank you, you got nice ____.

Monday was a holiday in Ontario, Family Day, so I took the opportunity to visit my saucy 100-and-a-half-year-old Nana. When I got to her nursing home it was afternoon TV time, so she was sitting in a big leather recliner in the main room with some of the other residents. I pulled up a seat next to her for a catch-up chat.

A few feet away, a man was sitting in his wheelchair. I would estimate him to be about 90 years old.


He dropped his mug…


And was in a bit of a panic about it. The nurses were busy tending to someone else across the room and no one seemed to be paying attention to him, so I got up to help him out.

cartoon-man3 cartoon-man4 cartoon-man5 cartoon-man6

And then…


I was caught VERY off guard and I did not know what to do, so…


Because what do you say to that?

And then I turned away and burst out laughing.

I sat back down with the Nanners to continue our conversation. She nor anyone else had heard the nice t*ts exchange. Five minutes later…


Not this time, buddy.


Guess who was on the radio this morning?

That’s RIGHT! Me! This morning was my radio debut.

We have this extremely popular morning show in the Toronto area called The Dean Blundell Show, did anyone hear it this morning? Anyway, they have this segment at 8am called “Wha Happened?!” where listeners call in and tell embarrassing stories about things happening to them and the best story wins prizes.

I haven’t listened to the Dean Blundell Show all that much lately, but I caught it this morning as I was driving to work and I decided to call in. I have plenty of embarrassing stories, but the ones that Dean and friends seem to favour have some sort of dirty element to them. My plan was to tell my story about getting trapped in the cemetery while running and having to straddle a strange man’s head with my sweaty legs to get out (straddling the strange man’s head would be the dirty element here).


So I called around 7:45 expecting it to be super busy, but I somehow got through right away. I was very, very surprised. For some reason I was extremely nervous and my heart was beating like crazy. I was practically hyperventilating. But by the time I had to tell my story I was in my office at my desk, so that helped calm my nerves a little bit.

I was the very first story, and you can listen to the audio here. Start at 45.15 to hear my man voice (just move the little audio bar over, it’s almost right in the middle of the segment).

Of course they took it into dirtier territory, but I was expecting that. I was just happy to get through my story without them really harassing me, because they have been known to play static and goat noises and ask “Are you on a cell phone?!” if the story is boring. Or they have this clip that just says “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING. You are so boring.” and then they just hang up. So I was lucky. It was very funny because I know a lot of people who listen to that show in the morning, so a bunch of my friends recognized me and texted me about it.

I didn’t win, which was very disappointing because I really did want CASBY Award tickets. I want to see Mother Mother and Hollerado and Said the Whale. I’m pretty sure you can only win tickets. And honestly I thought my story was the best out of the others, and they had a good reaction to it! I think sometimes going first can work against you, because by the time they heard from everyone maybe they forgot me. Who knows.

So that just means I’ll have to call back another time and tell them about the piggyback fail. That has a dirty twist with the whole underwear fandango.

That is all. Just wanted to tell you about my radio experience. Have a good weekend!


The Bully and the Lunchbox

From Grades 1 through 12, I took a bus to school. I didn’t mind it, and actually most of the time I liked it! I had extremely fun people on my bus, especially in high school. And when I was younger I would sit with my friends and play clapping games (like Miss Mary had a steamboat) the entire ride.

But it was not all fun and games. When I was in Grade 2 my bus went through some dark times.

The dark times were a boy named Darryl. Darryl was a year older than me, and he was a straight-up bully. Unfortunately, I was Darryl’s favourite victim. He would tease me, try to trip me, repeatedly tap me on the head if he was sitting behind me, pull my hair, call me ugly, steal my school bag, the list goes on. He was relentless.

I would go home and complain to my mom about all the terrible things Darryl said or did to me, and she would just tell me that boys teased you when they liked you, so he probably had a crush on me.

This did not make me feel any better about the teasing. If anything, it made me feel worse. Thinking about Darryl having a crush on me made me feel icky and grimy. He was a disgusting bully.

Darryl’s teasing went on for a few months. And I just quietly took it. Every single day. Sure, I yelled back at him, trying to defend myself. But the more I reacted, the more Darryl laughed at me, and he teased me even harder.

But one day Darryl took his teasing too far.

He thought it would be a good idea to make up a song about how ugly I was. Our bus ride was about 20 minutes long, and he sang the song repeatedly.

He even got a few of his little minions to join in on the chorus.

I sat in my seat clutching my plastic Beetlejuice lunchbox tightly, staring at the seat ahead of me, just seething. I tried to ignore him, but as he went on with his song, I got increasingly more angry.

Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped. In a rage, I grabbed my Beetlejuice lunchbox by the handle, turned around in my seat…

And I smashed him in his big stupid head.

I hit him so hard that my lunchbox cracked. A huge red gash appeared on his forehead, and he began bleeding profusely.

And then he did something I had never seen a bully do before. He started to cry.

I stared at him bleeding and crying, and I suddenly felt very sad for him. I regretted smashing him in the head with my lunchbox. I didn’t mean to hit him quite as hard as I did. I just wanted to teach him a lesson.

Darryl ran to tell our bus driver, who stopped the bus and called me up to the front. She said that she was going to have to inform the principal of the accident when we arrived at school.

I was terrified. I had never been in trouble before, and I knew that I was probably going to be sent to the principal’s office for this. The principal’s office was an unknown place to me, but I had a feeling it was very scary in there and it did not sound like a good time at all. I thought I was probably going to get at least a detention also, and that did not sound like a good time either.

I sat at my desk that morning, shaking in fear.

About half an hour after class started, I was called to the office. I was prepared for this moment, but I was not ready. I made my way slowly down the hall, prolonging my impending doom. When I reached the office, Darryl was already there, and he wasn’t crying anymore. He looked extremely smug and proud of himself.

We were instructed to sit in chairs in the secretary’s area until the principal was ready to see us.

And I knew he was right. I nearly started to cry.

After what seemed like a million years, the principal came out to collect us. He looked big and mean and scary, and I was afraid. Days of detention flashed before my eyes. I didn’t even know what went on in detention, but I pictured something similar to writing lines on the chalkboard like Bart in the Simpsons.

Darryl and I sat in chairs in front of his desk. He began to question us.

But then…

I looked up, surprised. This was true. Could our principal be on my side?

I explained that Darryl had been harassing me every day. That he tripped me in the aisle of the bus, and pulled my hair, and said terrible things about me, and made up a song about how ugly I was.

Our principal said the bus driver had told him this also. And then he said something I will never forget.

The smug smile immediately slowly from Darryl’s face. I was in shock.

I got a warning. Just a warning not to do that again. And that was that. We were free to go.

Word of the incident spread around the school, and for a few weeks I was a hero. Even kids in Grade 6 were coming up to me and asking me about Darryl and the lunchbox accident.

And guess what? Darryl never bothered me again. Not ever.

Now, I’m not saying that you should go around smashing people in the face with your lunchbox. But I am saying don’t bully people. Karma will get you. If not, someone with a hard plastic Beetlejuice lunchbox just might…


Eric’s Teeth

My brother Eric is 10 years younger than me. You may have noticed in pictures that I have posted of him when he was young, that he had no front teeth.

Here is the story of how Eric lost his teeth (and man, he was a happy child!).

I was super excited when Eric was born.

Obviously. I mean, look at the fancy dress I wore to the hospital. I was excited to meet him! I stayed at my friend Melissa‘s house the night he was born, and I can remember just dying of excitement. I didn’t even know if he was going to be a boy or a girl!

I had always wanted a sibling, and finally at 10-years-old, I was getting one. Because my parents waited so long to have another baby, and I was so old by the time he came around, I was automatically the built-in babysitter.

The “have experience with newborns” on our babysitting flyer? Yeah, that referred mainly to having experience with Eric.

Babysitting him was actually fine with me. I loved looking after my little brother. I can remember holding him in my arms and singing him lullabies (aww), and reading him stories, and prepping him to be my partner in crime.

But of course, I was his sibling, and it was not all sunshine and rainbows. He could be super annoying also. And you can ask any of my friends about that.

That would be my Bestie Lisa with Eric (she was so young!), and she is kind of smiling nice for the camera, while also looking like she hates him a little bit.

He used to terrorize us so badly. Usually if I was babysitting him I could keep him in check by pretending to call Santa in the North Pole if he acted up. I’d pick up the phone, pretend to dial, and be all “Hi, is Santa there?” And Eric would panic and be all “NOOOO! Don’t call SANTA!!!!!” and then he would be a little angel for the rest of the evening. It was a good plan. If you babysit now, I’m telling you, use that. It works beautifully.

Anyway, I liked to roughhouse with Eric a little bit. I was a pretty good tickle monster, and we regularly played Superman. I would lie on my back on the floor and make him put his stomach on my feet and raise him in the air above me. He LOVED it. Superman was his favourite.

That is Superman. I don’t have a picture of me doing it with Eric, so that will do. I’ll still do Superman now, pretty much with any child who will let me.

I also used to regularly hold onto his hands and swing him around the kitchen, which he LOVED. It was a good time. But it led to his downfall on the tooth-front.

One time I was babysitting Eric when he was just under two, and I decided to step up the swinging and hold Eric by his feet instead of his hands.

All was going well, I was swinging him around by his feet, and he was loving it. Best time of his life. And then I don’t know what happened. Somehow his ankles slipped out of my grasp, and the next thing I knew Eric was flying away from me, across the kitchen, and I watched in almost slow motion as he rotated like a helicopter and landed on his face on the kitchen floor (this image is still burned into my brain).

I was horrified. He began crying immediately, and as I rushed over to pull him up, blood was spewing from his face. It just covered the floor. It was EVERYWHERE. And then I saw his front teeth. Both of them. On the floor, in their entirety. Root and all. His poor little baby teeth.

So I called my parents, and held towels against his mouth to stop the bleeding while I waited for them to come home and drive us to the hospital.

Eric was fine. For landing on his face, he took it well (much like I did). But for most of his childhood, he had no front teeth.

Probably the funniest thing about this was, this happened when Eric was still too young to be able to talk properly. So he couldn’t tell my parents what had actually happened…

But I sure could. I didn’t want to get in trouble, so I didn’t tell my parents I was swinging him around by his feet. I told them that Eric had just been spinning around the kitchen by himself and accidentally fell. This was very plausible because I used to spin around the kitchen pretending I was skating and I was Kristi Yamagouchi (pretty much my girl crush). So Eric wanting to copy me was not very far-fetched.

But then a little while later, when Eric could actually talk, he remembered what happened. And I’m pretty sure his first coherent sentence was “Lindsey dropped me!”

Dark times. I was caught. And it was not good.

But despite me dropping him on his face and knocking out his front teeth, we are close now. So close we accidentally match at weddings (<- best wedding of my life).

He has forgiven me.

And eventually his adult teeth came in and all was well! He is beautiful, with beautiful teeth.

And all I have to say about that is luckily!!!!


The Fence

If you have read my About page, you may have noticed that I love the game Manhunt.

Manhunt is basically like a game of outdoor hide-and-go-seek/tag, and it is seriously awesome. I would still play it today if I could find people to play it with me. I don’t know the proper rules, but when we were growing up we played outside in the dark, and you had to hide until the person who was “It” found you. Once you were found, you had to run to Home Free before they caught you.

If they tagged you before you got to Home Free, you were It. If the person who was It didn’t tag anyone, they had to be It for another round (and possibly forever). Being It sucked. Everyone avoided and taunted you. I dreaded being It.


To decide who was first It, we all put our feet in a circle and did the whole eenie meenie miny mo thing, and then added: “My mother and your mother were hanging out the clothes, My mother punched your mother right in the nose. What colour was the blood? RED! R-E-D spells Red.” And then person belonging to the foot you landed on was out. This was repeated until there was only one foot left in the circle, and that person was It. It was very elaborate and we did not mess around.

My house was the perfect place to play manhunt. I had a pretty big property, surrounded by the forest, lake, a park (it only had two swings and a teeter-totter but it was very foresty with lots of hiding places), and my neighbours’ property.

Home Free was a picnic table in my front yard.

One night we were playing manhunt, and I was hiding with my bestie Lisa.  It was absolutely pitch black. We had been hiding in the park next to my house, but were caught, and were running away from my neighbour Ivan, who was It. Everyone else had already made it to Home Free. We were Ivan’s last chance of escaping being It again.

We had managed to get away from him and were lying low across the street at the back of my house on the lake side. Our only goal was to make it to Home Free. I was terrified of being caught and becoming It. If I ended up being It, I could see myself not being able to catch anyone and staying It for the rest of the night and everyone harassing me. It was a horrifying prospect. It was the last thing I wanted to be.

We knew Ivan was still on my property to the left, and we knew he was after us, but he didn’t know where we were yet because it was so dark.

It was a tricky situation. If we just started running towards Home Free, Ivan would see us and probably head us off and catch us. We had to lure him towards us first before we started running.

We instantly made a plan.

We would make Ivan run towards us, and as he was running diagonally for us, we would run straight for my house, go around the side, and book it to Home Free.

It would take Ivan a few seconds to change direction, and since we would have a head start, I was confident we would make it.

I was already picturing our sweet victory dance on the picnic table.


We put our plan into action.


I heard Ivan start to run, so I waited a few seconds and then yelled to Lisa “RUN!!!!!!!”

She took off, and I quickly followed. I could hear Ivan chasing after us and let me just say, I have never ran so fast in my entire life. We were on a mission. We were BOOKING IT.


About 20 seconds into our run I heard a humoungous CRASH in front of me. Lisa had run into something. I couldn’t see her, but there was a hose for the eaves trough on my property around where I thought we were. I figured Lisa hit that and tripped. I made an instant decision – look out for number one and keep running.

I didn’t want to hit the hose myself, so I prepared myself for it. I started running even faster so that I could just effortlessly leap over it (and Lisa, if need be).

And here is how that went in my head:


I remember reaching my sprinting potential, and thinking to myself “I have never run this fast in my life! I feel so free and wild running in the wind!” My legs felt as if they were flying over the grass!

Just as I thought this, something stopped me dead. There was an old decorative (I use that term loosely) wooden fence that surrounded my yard, that served absolutely no purpose, and in our rush to get away from Ivan I had completely forgotten about it.


The crash I heard wasn’t from Lisa hitting the hose, it was from Lisa hitting the fence. Just as I broke into a full-out sprint, I crashed into it, and it hit me at thigh-level. I did a complete flip over it.


Lisa had also hit the fence at thigh-level and did a full flip over it. I landed directly on top of her.

The fence was totally broken. Lisa must have cracked it when she hit it, and I completely did it in when I hit it right after.

And Ivan saw his opportunity and seized it. I opened my eyes and saw his grinning face above us.

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