If I am going to be teased, I insist that jokes actually be made :mad:
Bah, you know I love ya! Besides, I don’t care what anyone does with their own kitchen utensils as long as you don’t fuck my ladle or wok or anything.
My favourite from my own lovely teen:
“Crash, bang, stomp, pout, urghhhh”
“What’s up honey?”
Withering psycho look
“I’ll decide that later”
“What was Bo doing in your trunk?”
A tale from the me files:
A few years ago my mom got a new oven… I heard the installers say it needed to be cleaned (using the “clean” feature, that really hot one that locks the oven) before we use it for any cooking. My mom had to run out for something for a couple hours so I decided to be a nice, considerate teenager and do it for her… it never occurred to me ONCE to take out the various instruction manuals and cleaning fluids and plastics and cardboards… :smack:
My mom came home to all of our fans in the kitchen, the windows open and me desperately trying to turn it off after I realized just why the oven was smoking and making my eyes tear up several rooms away. Now my mom makes a point of asking me to “look something up in the instruction manual” whenever I go home and use the oven for something.
My late uncle was always a rebellious kid, but there were some stories that didn’t come out until recently.
When he was about fourteen he and his best friend skipped school and went skateboarding at the local skate park. My uncle fell and hit his head. They decided it was bad enough to go immediately to the hospital, where my uncle’s best friend claimed to be his older relative. I fully believe that the two of them could have pulled this off, because my uncle was a master liar full of charm. They managed to get treatment without his parents being notified, and went home as if nothing had happened.
They might have gotten away with it, if it weren’t for what my grandparents received in the mail a few weeks later. A medical bill, for treating my uncle’s concussion.
My nephew, at almost 16, had a huge party while his parents, grandmother, brother and granddog were out for an evening visit to some relatives. No, not out of town. 10 miles away for a holiday after dinner visit. While there was time to get the 80 - 100 teenagers out of the house, there was no time to clean up the liquor and other stuff all over the floor. Certainly there was no time to recover his late grandfather’s coin collection, two iPods and his little brother’s Game Cube. Nor was there time to replace the basement windows that had been kicked in. Or to air the strictly no smoking house out. Or to somehow fix the gouge in the hard wood floor in the den.
I don’t think this nephew was very contrite though. Three weeks later, still grounded, he got suspended from school for selling weed in the cafeteria, as evidenced by security video.
My sister, who is 17 years younger than me, had a big party when our parents were in Europe. She was 19, not 16, like the nephew, but still underage. One night, at 1am, the police called to tattle on her to me. I was the closest adult in the family at the time, living a town away. But I had a new baby, had just had surgery not too long ago and, in fact, had not been placed in charge of this young woman. So, I told them she was not my responsibility and hung up on them. The next day, however, I called them and asked that they drive past the house till whatever date the parents were due home, just to ruin her partying opportunities.
Fine.
What on earth was your 16 year old doing inviting a 20 something doper from Orlando to your house for?
Ok, so that was a little lame.
A niece of mine, when she was a junior or senior in high school, had a party in her house for a bunch of friends, of course including alcohol.
The twist is, she did it with her family there, asleep. They have a fully-furnished basement, practically a separate apartment, and she threw it down there. She might have gotten away with it if her parents’ bedroom had been on the second floor of the house, but it’s on the ground floor, and eventually they heard noises through the floor. They kicked out the party-goers, yelled at her, and went to bed.
Within a couple hours, she had them back in the basement, and was discovered again. :rolleyes:
I’m suppose I’m still young enough to remember the antics I was up to when I was a teenager…
I don’t think my parents would have forbade me to do the things I wanted to do if I had told them the truth, but I wanted to pretend I was rebellious and often lied about where I was spending the night. We were sixteen and wanted to go to the next town for a music festival. My friend drove and we slept in the car instead of doing the sensible thing and asking them to sponsor a hotel room for a safer trip. One time, I slept in a bus station waiting for the Greyhound to go home after visiting a friend I’d met online from another city. For all the times I did things like that, I would tell my parents that I’m spending the night at a friend’s place who was not going. I figured it was easier to fake the “Oh, Grapefruit is in the washroom, I’ll get her to call you back” - not that ever happened. Odd thing is, I was a teenager around the time cellphones were given to us to keep track of our whereabouts… so my parents, instead of asking me for the number of the friends’ house and/or insisting on speaking to the parents who were going to be responsible for me for the night, they’d sometimes call my cellphone to make sure I was still alive but not for confirmation that I was where I said I would be.
To the teenagers’ parents… they are never doing what they say they are going to do. Make sure you have a way to track them down so they don’t foolishly spend a night sleeping in a bus station in a strange city!!!
I should forward this thread to my mom. Then she can really appreciate how good she had it with me as a teen. I think the ‘worst’ thing I ever did while living at home was to go for coffee with a friend after work. (we had worked late, it was like 2am when we got done) I got home at like 5 and got a very stern lecture.
A couple of weekends ago, Hallboy (age 14.5) spent the night with a friend. He and the friend decided they both wanted a candy bar, so they got on their bikes, rode to the grocery store, where Hallboy went to the customer service desk to get his own Grocery Bonus Card (which would give him a discount on the candy bars–he frequently used mine, but since he wasn’t home and didn’t have an opportunity to get mine, he decided to get his own, frugal boy that he is.) Hallboy and friend, get their candybars (purchased at a discount using the Grocery Bonus Card), get on their bikes and ride back to friend’s house.
It was 1:00 in the morning. Friend’s mom was fast asleep and didn’t even know they were gone.
Hallboy is inordinately proud of being in possession of his own Grocery Bonus Card, but me, I’m silently freaking out at the thought of him riding his bike to the grocery store at 1:00 am. “No more going to the grocery store, or anywhere else, at 1:00 am,” I told him as calmly as I could.
Cite?
Long story. See posts 2, 3, 21 and 22 for a bit more info.