So, for the most part, I had a very "American Boy" normal childhood, complete with grass stains, torn jeans, a timeout here or there, stupid sibling fights and Nerf guns. However, like most kids, I have a few stories that are a little unique (understatement), and never fail to make me or anyone involved crack up at the memory.
I thought I would share a few of those today...
1) THE "BEAD UP THE NOSE" STORY (sister's favorite)Back when I was a little tyke, my sister's favorite toy
by far was her iron-on bead pegboard set (you know, the little white board with pegs that you could put colored beads on to make a design?). If you're still fuzzy on what the toy is,
click here. Well, I happened to be at that stage where anything Paige had, I needed to play with too (which, like the Lite Brite mentioned in the last post, meant I had no clue how to use it).
So one day Paige and I were at our Dad's house, and she was playing with her beads, and I was doing everything I could to annoy her (which is what the most loving brothers do). So, impulsively (and regrettably), I picked up one of those colored beads and shoved it up my nose. Well, I soon learned I had extremely deep nasal cavities, as the bead got
stuck in my nose, and neither myself, my sister or my Dad could get the thing out. So on to the emergency room we went!
As it has been told to me now, once we got to the emergency room, the doctor was extremely patient and un-alarmed. He simply reached into his Black & Decker tool kit, grabbed some needle-nose pliers, and shoved that shi* up my nose until it hit plastic, and yanked down. Not exactly an operation necessitating anesthesia, but painful nonetheless.
Both good and bad came from this - "Bad" (for me) because I was slightly afraid to torment Paige the way I was used to prior to "the accident". "Good" because I didn't have to pick my nose for weeks! Doctor cleaned that schnozz out good!
2) THE "TOOTH IN THE TREE" STORY (best friend Keith's favorite)I had the privilege to live on the same street as my best friend Keith during those awesome developmental years of my life, age 9-18. We played every sport known to man (including homerun derby, hockey with home-made nets, Nerf gun wars, croquet, basketball...(yes, I purposely squeezed croquet in the middle of that list to lessen the blow). But there was one more popular game that dominated our mornings, afternoons and nights...HIDE AND SEEK.
(*Side Note: Hide-and-seek is one of those timeless games that you can enjoy at any age. In the beginning, it's just fun to hide. In your teens, it becomes fun to purposely be found because all you really want to do is run and beat them to "home base". And any time after that, you pride yourself on finding the epic hiding spot that you never have to leave!)
Well, on this specific occasion, we were in the middle of the aforementioned three stages...the "see if I can outrun you" stage. There were three of us playing, with me currently acting as the one who was "it" (aka the counter/seeker). Well, I found my buddy and we were equi-distant from his garage (base), and he decided he wanted to race me.
QUICK CONTEXT: At this house, there are two palm trees just outside the garage (about 3 feet between front of garage and tree) that mark either side of where the two cars pull in to park.
So seeing as were on opposite sides of the house, he was going to try and run and fit between the tree and the garage, to use the tree as a blocker against my charging self. Well, being the cocky S-O-B I've always been, I knew I was gonna get to him, so I charged. Halfway to the garage, we both knew we were gonna meet at the tree...and neither of us cared. And I knew I had the advantage...my long-ass arms could reach around the tree. Or at least, that was the plan...
Right as we reached the tree, he tried to sneak through that 3-foot gap, and I stretched out my arm to tag him from the other side. I was right about my arms being able to reach around...however I had failed to consider one integral part of the scenario: my momentum. My buddy ducked under my hand as he went in the gap, and I ran
full speed into the palm tree. And I led with my
face. 
I hit the tree so hard that my front tooth got wedged into the bark of the tree, and we had to push my face back to get out of the tree. And there was the most amazing tooth-shaped dent I have ever seen. Within one hour my tooth had gone totally black (luckily a couple of the roots stayed alive, and 3 months later my tooth slowly came back to normal color). Oh, and my friend's Dad used sandpaper to rub out the tooth dent in the tree.
Oh, and Keith just watched this from his hiding spot. Bastard.
3) THE "BLAME IT ON PAIGE" STORYI'm already laughing before I type this one. As mentioned before, I loved to torment Paige, steal her toys, rip Barbie's heads off...you know, the usual. But she tormented me too with dress-up and stupid games, so we were always even. Except for one thing - Paige NEVER lied. She was a good kid, and wouldn't ever lie to Mom (needless to say, the same can't be said for me). So one day I took it upon myself to create a "Paige lie".
On this particular day, Mom was at work and Grandma was taking care of us (we were about 4 & 6 at the time). One rule in our house was that we were not allowed to play with the switches for the ceiling fan...which, as you can imagine, when little Marc heard "Don't Touch", that just meant "Don't Touch while Mom's around". So I decided I wanted to play with the fan, but I was too short to reach the wall switch. So when Grandma was out smoking, I took my step-up stool from the bathroom (what I stood on to reach the sink and brush my teeth), took it to the living room, stood on it, flipped the fan on, and then ran the stool back to the bathroom.
Grandma came back in and asked who turned the fan on, and I immediately said Paige did it, because obviously I couldn't reach it since I was too short. Grandma believed me...until Paige ratted on me and told the stool story. I can't believe she believed the nerdy blonde girl and not the cute, chubby Marc. Damnit Grandma!
Needless to say, Mom came home, got the story from Grandma
and Paige, I got in trouble, and spent what felt like 3 days in my room (also known as 20 minutes). Friggin Paige...
4) THE "FIRST EXPERIENCE WITH SLEEP-WALKING STORY"In this story, kid Marc is about 5-6 years old (still completely in my awesomely cute stage). At the time, I had my own room (thank god, cuz Paige would have murdered me a long time ago if we shared). This is a short story, but cracks me up nonetheless.
First, here is my (very short) side of the story:
One morning I woke up very disoriented to find my closet door open, with all of my clothes on the ground. THE END. (I wish)
Now here is the story as it has been recounted by Mom:
One night I had a crazy dream, and in the middle of it (apparently), I stood up, and walked to my closet (which was one of those that had a normal door on it, and it swung out, and it opened up just to a set of shelves...no walk-in or anything). I opened the door and proceeded to tear down
all the clothes on the shelves including the high one I could barely reach and throw them on the floor, so that not a single article of clothing was on the shelves.
Apparently Mom heard the rustling down the hall, so she came in, found me, woke me up (so she thought), gave me a glass of water and put me back to bed. She figured she'd deal with the mess in the morning. THE END.
I can tell you I have only slept-walked once since, and that was second year of college in the dorms. That story is for another time. But this was the first time this had happened.
5) THE "FIRST EXPERIENCE WITH SLEEP-TALKING STORY" Now, whereas I didn't develop into a chronic sleep-
walker, I have, however, become quite the sleep-
talker. I've talked in my sleep as long as I can remember, especially in new/foreign places (a.k.a. - NOT MY BED).
In college, my roommate would keep a pen and Post-It pad next to his bed to write down the things I would say at night, and then stick the note on the TV next to his bed. So every morning the game would be to wake up and, if there was a note on the TV, Marcy-Marc must have been talkin! Even now Julie will try and remember stuff I said while I'm asleep, but she never can remember (uhhh...and by "when I'm asleep" with Julie, of course I mean when I'm over at her place mid-day taking a nap on the couch by myself...don't worry Mom, we only hold hands).
ANYWAY, this all started on a camping trip. Every year, me and Keith would go on a camping trip with our Dad's to the Sierras (best trips ever). Well, the first year, we stayed in a cabin the first night, and I slept on the top bunk of a bed, and my bed looked out the only window to the front of the cabin.
In the middle of the night, I wake up everyone in the room by yelling "THERE'S ANIMALS RUNNING ALL OVER THE PLACE!" Considering I was the only one with a window, they all assumed I was looking out at the wilderness and saw some mass-exodus of animals. Suckers.
And when they asked "What did you say?", I repeated myself "THERE'S ANIMALS RUNNING ALL OVER THE PLACE!" Mike got out of bed, crawled to my bunk to look out the window to see this Lion King-esque animal movement, only to find me with my
back to the window, dead asleep. He told them I was asleep, and they all groaned, and then I heard about it for the entire camping trip.
Who am I kidding?! I still hear about it!
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These are just a few of Marc's wild and crazy moments as a young lad. Feel free to post on this entry and remind me of some other ones if you want that story too! But Keith, be careful. What goes around, comes around.
