When I was a very small girl I used to run around outside without a shirt on. When I got to be a bit older, I would frequently take my shirt and bra off in the summer whilst in the coolness and privacy of my bedroom.
One lovely summer evening when I was 12 years old and definetly had well-developed boobettes I emerged from my room and, forgetting that I didn’t have a shirt on, proceeded to take a leisurely tour on my bike throughout my small town, where everyone on earth was outside enjoying the evening. I didn’t realize that things were unaturally cool and unrestricted in the chestal area until I was about a mile away from home. Needless to say, I pedalled like I was in the Tour de France to get home.
I still have nightmares about this incident, especially when I’m stressed. Oddly, no one I gaily waved to on my Lady Godiva tour ever mentioned it. Perhaps it was too surreal for them to believe it really happened.
I was out playing on a hot day, then ran into the yard where my dad was sitting at a picnic table smoking a cigarette, with an open can of pop next to him. I grabbed the pop and chugged it, and enjoyed the brisk flavor of cigarette ashes mixed with a few drops of warm soda. Ya see, he’d been using it as an ashtray. Everything I ate for the next two weeks tasted like it had been stored in a smokehouse.
I knew someone would ask that. 
Oddly enough, that thread was what made me realize that my cellphone charger was missing.
Had to re-visit this thread for this one. I found out today I’m not sure of my own address. I had to fill it in on a form and I just wasn’t sure of the house number. I’ve lived at this address since January…
(In my defence, I lived in the house next to mine for half a year and that’s why I get the numbers mixed up. I still feel silly though.)
A friend told me today of his daughter’s first shot at making enchiladas. She’s eight.
She grabbed the cinnamon instead of the chili powder. He says the taste wasn’t so bad, but the after effects…
His older daughter was heard screaming from the bathroom, “Melinda, you are NOT going to cook any more mexican food! Hear me?”
Nothing can top Jennshark’s post, but I’ll tell a couple of mine anyways.
I had salad plates and ice tea glasses on the countertop beside each other. I proceeded to fill up the ice tea glasses with a lovely seven layer salad. Not just one of them, mind you, all six glasses. In walks my then SO who says, “Want me to help you put ice in the salad plates?” That’s when I realized what I had done. :smack:
Then there was last Thanksgiving Day. I was hosting a bunch of folks for dinner. I had a very nice turkey to fry (YUM!) and a dozen ears of fresh corn that I was going to grill (YUM!) So, I’m outside with two platters, one containing the turkey that I was going to fry in the outdoor cooker and one containing the corn to put on the grill. ACBG (the latest squeeze in case some of you still don’t understand the importance of keeping up with the minutiae of my life) stopped me just before I started putting ears of corn (in the husk, mind you) into hot peanut oil. :eek: The turkey, of course, was sitting on the hot grill, still on the platter. :smack: :smack:
I’m a good, and somewhat dangerous, cook.