we were sitting around making bookmarks with glitter on them and friendship bracelets and shit with pompoms and whatnot
and the boyscouts a few metres over were learning to make campfires so they could grill tiny hotdogs
and i wanted to grill tiny hotdogs and not make bookmarks
because learning how to set fires is more interesting than making glittery bookmarks (i had so many bookmarks anyway, i was planning to just throw mine away)
so i threw a tantrum and my dad had to drive all the way out into the sticks and pick me up and after that i wasn't welcome back
and our troop leader was not particularly fond of me or my father due to some political disagreements they had and i don't think they liked me much anyway because i kept trying to play devil's advocate when we were saying grace over snacks so that was pretty much the chance they needed to have me removed from the troop
edited 20th Feb '16 11:14:02 AM by WonderSquid
I was a really, really angry 9/11 truther. I used to write stuff like WAKE UP AMERICA on the school bulletin boards. I carried around matches and a pocket knife everywhere I went, just in case.
I can say with reasonable confidence that I have been in more fist fights than the rest of you by at least a noticeable margin.
My dad was waaaay into Eagle Scouts. I still have some of his old medals/lanyards/honorary pocket knives in my room (one of said knives was the one I carried around with me). My grandmother was one of the den mothers and everything.
I think he's probably a mite disappointed I didn't go through with the whole scouts thing as far as he did, but we both know he's secretly proud of the fist fights even though fighting is bad and you shouldn't do it.
Two in a week both with the same guy. The first one we were just screwing around for fun. The second I think he made some kind of racial remark? Can't remember. I wound up pushing him down a hill and smashing his face into the concrete.
edited 20th Feb '16 11:25:40 AM by WonderSquid

Yay.
I been up since yesterday.
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