The Idiot Chronicles

Don’t try this at home, kids.

So, to make this story make sense, you have to know a couple things. It’s my grandma’s birthday, so we went to this fancy buffet restaurant thing. We are spread across three tables. Because of this, we have 3 of those bowls with the coffee creamer that you build castles out of. I am sitting at the “kids table”, at the very end. My cousin is sitting across from me, at the other end. We have grabbed all of the creamer bowls to make the best castle in all of existence. The bowls are metal. There is a chandelier above us.

You got all of that?

Good.

Now, in this fancy restaurant of stuffs, I am the oldest person at this kids table, and thus apparently the best castle builder. So, I’m trying to make my own tower out of the coffee creamer things, as are my cousin and brother. For the past five or so minutes, I’ve been quietly pleading with them to stop stealing the supports of my tower and actually give me some of the coffee creamer, you absolute podges.

“Marcus please.”

“No.”

“Marcus, please.”

“Nope!”

“Marcus, please.”

“Mmmmmmmmm……. nah.”

(A quiet scream of frustration from me.)

I’d attempted to steal them back, but that plan wasn’t going anywhere. The adults were too busy having adult conversations about adult stuff, and I wasn’t petty enough to whine to them. Trying to bribe my brother to work for me didn’t work. As the last of my coffee creamer tower was stolen, I was almost out of ideas. So, I did the only thing I could think of.

I grabbed an empty metal bowl, dragged it in front of me, and yelled down the table, “MARCUS! KOBE!”

Well, apparently that was the right thing to do, because my cousin grabs a creamer and fricken’ chucks it down the table.

And it actually lands in the bowl!

We’re both giggling because oh my god that actually worked, my brother is going, “WHHHOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAA!” And the grownups haven’t noticed a thing.

And Marcus decides that we should do it again.

So, “waitwaitwaitwaitwait-” And he chucks another one down the table. This time, and I don’t know if he was going for a trick shot or genuinely too excited to aim (probably the latter), but the creamer hits my face, bounces off my hand, and goes straight into the metal bowl. Marcus just howls with laughter, my brother is squealing with happiness, and I’m looking at the creamer with a kind of blank shock. But, hey, this is fun, so let’s keep going!

“Aw, come on Marcus! Dude, here, h-here’s a backboard-” (I put my wrists together and curl my hands around the bowl, making a “backboard”) “-here, you can SO do better than that!” And with another glance to the side to make sure the adults weren’t watching, Marcus stands up, and starts rapid-fire shooting these creamers into the bowl. It gets to the point where the bowl is full, so with a coffee creamer in midair, I have to slide the full bowl down the entire table, grab anther metal bowl, form the backboard, and catch the shot in the space of, like, two seconds. 

It was AWESOME.

Okay, but anyway, at first we called whatever we were doing “basketball,” because that’s what it started off as. But, eventually, we began to call the sport “butterball,” after we realized we had thrown the cream so much, some of it had LITERALLY TURNED INTO BUTTER.

Of course, the grownups eventually noticed. 

But d’ya wanna know how they noticed?

Well, Marcus and I had come up with “The Great Butterball Challenge,” which was his name and my stupid idea. We set up all the (empty) bowls at one end of the table with menus and stuff placed behind them to simulate a backboard, and Marcus stood at the other end with his “ammo” of things of cream. The challenge was to shoot the cream up, through the chandelier, and down into the bowls.

May I add these bowls had extremely sharp edges?

So, Marcus takes aim, pulls his arm back, and fricken’ hurls this cream up.It doesn’t go over the chandelier, oh no, that’d be to simple. It hits the chandelier, almost breaks one of the lights on it, causes the chandelier to start swinging, and then crashes down into the bowl with a huge clatter. But it’s too late, because Marcus had already shot the next cream, and the next, and the next. One hit the supporting thread/rope thing of the chandelier, so now the whole thing is shaking and the lights are flickering, another couple creamers fly over my head, out of the contained walls of the booth, and hit other customers in this (very fancy) restaurant in the head, and more and more start clattering to the bowls, to the floor, on my face, on the seats, everywhere. We had around 30 things of creamer and were just throwing them like you would gold coins. The cries of “what the fuck,” from the patrons around us finally alerted the grownups to what were doing.

And just their luck, right as they turned around to look at us, Marcus launches a creamer through the swinging chandelier, and it proceeds to land on the sharp edge of the bowl.

And EXPLODES.

I’m covered in creamer, there’s white bits of plastic everywhere, Marcus is waving around a rack of ribs like it’s a first place trophy, the other patrons are yelling their displeasure at the waitstaff, and the waitstaff themselves are looking befuddled, devastated, amused, and ready to start screeching in wrath at the same time. My uncle shoots up and near bellows, “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING”

Welllllllll, it is 10 in the morning and my life has already been pretty weird, so I guess I’ll just edit this as my classes go and pass. What’s happened so far:

FIRST PERIOD- JOURNALISM

-Walked to the University to study the newspaper and reporting there (because none of us really know what’s going on at this point)

-Flashed back to the horrors of when Liesel, Izzy and I attempted to navigate to the University alone (”tHIS IS A CUL-DE-SAC” “WELL, CUL-DE-SUCK MY BALLS”)

-Did the splits to cross a sidewalk-spanning puddle and almost fell in

-Disturbed half the neighbourhood via ski trip flashbacks (Me, standing in the kitchen: “eVERYONE GIVE IT UP FOR AMERICA’S FAVOURITE FIGHTING FRENCHMAN” 

Liesel, stretching with one foot on the couch and the other on the coffee table: “LAFAYETTE! IMTAKINGTHISHOURSEBYTHEREIIDNSISJJSJ”) 

-Got to the university. Were told where the meeting place was. Immediately forgot. 

-Took a good ten minutes to order iced coffee because it was too early in the morning for ¾ of the people in the university to function 

-Got scolded by Liesel for daring to ask for directions 

-Designated a classmate as a man-baby (no, you can’t know who)

-Was escorted by a posse of five university students to the meeting place (with Liesel still scolding me for asking for directions) 

-Walked back to the school with Liesel serenading me with Eminem, German lullabies, and a little bit of Chance the Rapper 

-Watched a foosball game grow so intense that a table was ACTUALLY FLIPPED. 

SECOND PERIOD- HUMANITIES 

(It’s basically a combined English and Social Studies course) 

-Sat in the back of the class after finishing silent reading and sarcastically claimed I had the plague (Adam said it first, to be fair) 

-Joked about taking shots of hand sanitizer every time we talked about Utopia (I’d be dead from alcohol poisoning in five minutes) 

-Raised the (previously presumed dead) water bottle jokes from the grave 

Aaaaaaand that’s all for now. I still have half the day to go, so let’s tackle that. Expect updates.

(EDIT:) 

THIRD PERIOD- SCIENCE

-Got several sarcastic smiles from Sebastian because I chose the topic they wanted for a project the other day

-Sebastian sneezed, so I said “bless you.” He smiled and said, “Oh, thank yo-” before his face turned into one of pure horror and he gasped “oh no, tHAT WAS STELLA-”  (Mwahahahahaha. Yes, I shall undermine him by politeness. I am so evil.)

-(Gollum hiss) “Keys. Keys are cool.” (sprints away to go get posterboard) -Brett

-This screenshot:

- (ungodly screech) “WHAT IS THAT!” (Rest of table laughing) “wHaT iS tHaT?!?!?!?????????!!!!!!” -Ethan (I have no idea what he was talking about)

-THIS screenshot:

-”Are we done yet?” 

“No.” 

“Okay......... how ‘no’ is ‘no’?” 

(*heavy sigh*)

-(whispered angrily) “no, no n-no, n-I am an independent woman, I WILL GO TO THE WASHROOM BY MYSELF!” 

(EDIT:)

FOURTH PERIOD- ART

-Slav the GMO penguin

-”Tag yourself, I’m Lance”- Vera 

“I’m Keith!” -Me 

(Vera proceeds to shove my face so I tip off of my chair)

-”FOOT-FIVE”

-Someone really hates bell peppers in this school

-Stella the Slav Carrot

-Slav: Nico di Angelo edition

-”I’m going to stlab you.”

-”Spider-Slav!”

-*slides into chair with smirk* “Hey, my name’s Lance. What’s yours?”

- “Guten- MORGAN!”

-”.......is that Marah’s shoe?” -The art teacher

(Vera and I slowly losing it, because yes indeed, that is Marah’s shoe wedged in the doorframe, with no Marah in sight)

------------------------------------------------

No, actually. Not even a WEEK. This literally happened over the course of four days.

Welcome to summer, Stella style.

-Had friend who moved to the U.S two years ago over, and was so excited to see her that I jumped on her and pinned her to a wall

-Same friend and I proceeded to take over the lake

-And eat pizza

-And maaaaayyyybbbeeee accidentally finish extra-large Frosters for the first time in our lives

-Lost a child custody battle for a beach ball

-Almost drowned from laughing underwater

-Spent almost three days straight in a swimsuit

-Sarcastically proclaimed I looked hot while doing the most unflattering things to ever exist

-And then taking pictures

-Spending three hours and four packs of chalk transforming my driveway into the ultimate hopscotch/art gallery the world has ever seen

-Proceeding to nearly kill myself while attempting to do the hopscotch

-Realizing that the plausibility of someone actually doing said hopscotch was not considered whole making the hopscotch

-Renaming the hopscotch the the Death Driveway Doom Machine

-Laughing as my friend from the U.S (y'know what, it’s Rebecca. Her name is Rebecca)- laughing as Rebecca attempted to do the Death Driveway Doom Machine

-Rebecca and I alternating taking videos of us failing

-Crying as the rain washed away the Death Driveway Doom Machine

-Buying a large bottle of BBQ sauce for Rebecca and finding it more than halfway gone after four days (with her being the only one who uses BBQ sauce in my house)

-Lived off Disney/Pixar movies

-Was intensely confused by VeggieTales

-Watched soap-opera sea life rescues and faked emotion

-Had Rebecca teach me the basics of Snapchat and then proceeded to ask if I was a “kool kid” yet (spoiler alert: I’m not)

-Lived a lie as I faked having read a book series and struggled to keep that fact a secret

-Had Rebecca steal my sunglasses a million times because apparently, she looks better with them (LIES)

-Was able to trick/intensely confuse someone with the help of some shared contact information, three friends, and Google Translate

-Drew over an entire wall with Sharpie and made my mother promise to leave it on (she did!)

-Got a pet duck that Rebecca refuses to acknowledge exists (“Animal cruelty! You’re making it’s chances of survival lower!” She screeches, while I point out I dropped a crumb of my chip and suddenly this duck loves me)

-Held a fish funeral at the lake with Liesel, Marah, and Rebecca that ended up with Liesel and Rebecca attempting to tread water in the two-foot deep part of the lake, Marah singing opera, and me chucking a dead/half rotten fish into a passing boat by accident

-Had Marah slap me with her hair after I brushed against her arm while swimming

-Found out that Marah is an actual Disney princess that can put her cupped hands underwater and somehow catch minnows with strange magic

-Rebecca drinking half of the iced tea I had in the house, because the iced tea they have where she moved is literally just cold tea

-Had an intense paper airplane contest in pouring rain

-Had a dance-off with Rebecca in which I managed to kick my flip flop over my seven-foot-high fence and into a car

-Still won the dance-off

-Found out that Rebecca and I can’t sing “Hey There Delilah” without me either shattering glass as I try to match her high notes or her getting voice cracks and an eventual sore throat by trying to sing lower

-Was thankful to every powerful being out there that nobody was there to film the dance party Rebecca and I had to “Uptown Funk”

-Confused the heck out of half the people around me by making references to Disney movies, Star Wars, and random songs from the 80’s

-Decided we needed a designated bug shovel

-Got a designated bug shovel

-Proceeded to fuck up half the bugs on the beach with said bug shovel

-Raised four dragons of my very own

-Literally DESTROYED any crossword that came my way (with help from Becca)

-Didn’t take my allergy medication or my inhaler for four days and slowly died

-Spent half my time in a hammock

-Did some very regrettable Truth or Dare which ended up with half the group licking a tree and me getting blindfolded for 15 minutes before my friends realized I could buy them Frosters

-Asked Liesel whether I should dye my hair blue or purple and got the response of “Just bleach it all and become blonde.” (A very Liesel response)

-Was literally fabulous while wearing nothing but a swimsuit and a scarf patterned with moustaches for three days (while doing normal things like grocery shopping, etc)

-Was extremely mature at 11:30PM while attempting to do the previously mentioned crosswords as Rebecca suggested some…. INTERESTING words, let’s say

Pretty weird title, huh? Believe me, the actual story is even weirder. In this story, I'm in fifth grade. Since my school is split into two buildings, that means that I'm the youngest in the building. This also means that I can't get any major parts in any drama productions, filming things, or large projects outside of class. 

Anyway, the schools drama department was doing a production of the Wizard of Oz, affectionately referred to as "WoO" by anyone who was in the production, and "Oh my fucking god is that ANOTHER SCHEDULE CHANGE" by my parents. Liesel had decided to audition, as well as a bunch of my other friends. Liesel, of course, suggested to me that I join the production. In a moment of apple juice- induced stupidity, I agreed. So, audition and wait. 

They had decided to accept all the auditions into this play. So, I’m in the play, whoot whoot! Since I couldn’t get any major part, I (like the other fifth and sixth graders) get to be a munchkin and a jitterbug. At first, I wished for a bigger role (especially since Liesel, the special snowflake, got to be a bubble girl, aka one of Glinda’s attendants), but after a while, I didn’t mind. Being backstage for so long meant I got to witness the show and do any homework that the constant rehearsals made me miss. 

Speaking of that, the rehearsals were very oddly placed. We would have rehearsals at lunch, but also after school. School would end at 3:30, we would have to be back for rehearsal at approximately 4:00. The problem with that was that we couldn’t stay in the school between dismissal and rehearsal, meaning we had to grab our backpacks, run to the nearby Market Mall, eat, then sprint back. I should also mention that this was in the dead of winter, so little fifth grade Liesel and Stella are sprinting in full snowsuits with backpacks weighing around 30lbs on our backs. I swear, I got more exercise during those few months than I ever did in Gym. AAAAAAAANNNYWAY-

If Liesel and I were feeling productive (which was very rarely), we would use all the time we spent backstage to do our mountains of homework. When we were not feeling productive, however, we would mess around on our laptops. This normally culminated in us watching YouTube on Liesel’s laptop with the assistance of her headphones.

Now, during our bored traversing of YouTube, we came across a lovely show. You may have heard of it- does the name “Barbie: Life In The Dreamhouse” ring a bell? Anyway, since we were mature 10-year-olds, we immediately got hooked on this show. You could find HUNDREDS of good quality episodes on YouTube, so our addiction was supported. And slowly but surely, the older kids started to take note of what was happening.

Now, when I say older kids, I mean high schoolers. These kids actually had important parts in the show, like flying monkeys and guards and important assistants to the Wicked Witch. And as the high school kids took note of what was happening, the high school kids began to join us in our watching. Yes, that’s right. We managed to get high schoolers to watch Barbie shows.

And the thing is, they were ENTHRALLED with this. We got so into the Barbie that we forgot what was going on outside. We weren’t using the headphones anymore, because there were about nine people in total now crowed around a tiny, hand me down laptop watching animated girls in pink dresses spin around and do their makeup. We had the episodes on a low enough volume so that we wouldn’t get yelled at (unless there was a live mic by the laptop- an experience for another story), and we focussed our full attention on it. If we had paid this much attention in class, we would’ve gotten 100% each and every test.

But, here’s the bad part: we were focusing so much attention on the show, we forgot our cues.

Which became a problem.

Outside our little world, what was happening was an important scene where Dorothy and Co. encounter the Wicked Witch of the West, and the guards are needed. But, would you look at that! There’s no one on stage!

The director gestured to the actors to say their lines again. When nothing happened, she stormed backstage. Imagine the reaction when she found us huddled in the far corner of backstage, watching Barbie!

There was much screaming that day, and we always made sure to keep an ear open when we were backstage after that.

Dear lord.

Moral of the story: Do not trust Liesel and I around mud.

Camping! Camping is fun, right? This is a school camping trip, not to Waterton this time. We went to this lovely place called Kamp Kiwanis, where the counselors were too attractive for their own good (which ties into another story, but anyway).

So, we were all trekked out into the woods to this pond they have, and were told to make examinations of the wildlife in and around the pond. Liesel had decided to go “screw this” and wear running shoes with no socks. I, on the other hand, had decided to wear some old rainboots that I had. So, you know, walking around, jumping over trees, that stuff, and Liesel and I eventually get split up. That’s okay with me, because I had found a spot I liked on the shore of this tiny pond and was examining it contently. This pond has a ring of mud circling it. At first, little Stella thinks, “Oh, it’s mud! How bad could it be?” Until she steps in said mud and begins to sink immediately. Safe to say, I avoided it.

I’m happily keeping a safe distance away from the quicksand/mud, examining around the pond with my dorky little magnifying glass, when I hear from across the water, “Uh…. Stella?” Lo and behold, as I look up, there stands Liesel yelling at me from the other side of the pond. Upon further examination (read: I fell out of the tree I was sitting in and squinted at her for 10 seconds), it looked like Liesel was stuck past her ankles in this mud. I, being a good friend, heaved a heavy sigh and trekked over there to figure out how to save her.

I had dropped my little black book of notes and gently placed my magnifying glass onto it, before spinning around and striding over to Liesel. This is important because this means I keep my shoulder bag on. Why do that, Stella? It’s my mothers shoulder bag, and I would rather eat glass shards than have any damage come to it. So, shoulder bag still on.

I carefully placed my feet when walking in and grabbed Liesel under the armpits. With much screaming and swearing from her, I began to pull up and back- which was a challenge, because I still haven’t hit my growth spurt at this point (read: Liesel is probably about 3 inches taller than me), and she’s muuuuuccchhhh heavier than me. But still, tiny Stella struggles to try her best because she’s a determined little sucker. 

5 minutes of pulling later, Liesel is magically free! Whoopie, yay! So, she stumbles out like a drunken moose and starts shaking mud out of her shoes. I twist around to try and get out (holding my bag in place during all of this, of course) and find an unfortunate liiiiitttlllle problem.

I’m stuck.

“Well, shit.” Sixth grade Stella thinks. “What do I do now?” My only thought is to shake the mud loose, so I start twisting around and trying to lift my feet up. It turns out, moving around in mud that is mostly water sucks you down more. My attempts to lit my feet up just result in me coming thisclose to losing my boots, so I stop that. Seeing no other option, I heave a huge sigh and attempt to twist my body around to yell for Liesel. However, I neglect to hold my shoulder bag this time. So, spin around with all my force, bag pick up momentum- THUNK! Straight into my stomach. I reel backwards and, since I can’t move my feet, topple like a tree. I have enough common sense to stick out one of my arms to catch myself before I land completely in the mud, and for .5 seconds, life is good. 

Then the shoulder bag follows me down. 

THUNK, even deeper into the mud I go. I’m shocked at first, before I realize “SHIT, the bag is going to go into the mud”. Thus, I use my free hand to grab the bag and hug it close to my chest so there’s no way it can get into the hellish pit of quicksand mud. Liesel is sitting on the sidelines staring at me this entire time.

“Can you help me up?” I finally ask. She shuts her mouth and nods, before getting up. I stop her. “Shoulder bag first.” Although she’s confused, Liesel maneuvers my shoulder bag off of me without getting it in the mud. She then hangs it in a tree a large distance away from the pond.

Liesel walks carefully back into the mud and begins to pull me. I’m up to my shins at this point, so the task is considerably harder for her. Finally, Liesel gives up and yells for a camp counsellor, dropping me back into the mud in the process. 

A counsellor who went by the name of Oak came to help me. He stood there for a second, looking at me and giving a half-laugh, half-heavy sigh before walking over to me. He pulls me up and begins to yank. I’m doubtful (and kind of embarrassed, because at this point I’m all chub and no height and Oak is decently handsome), but I suppose that from sheer force of will, I slowly begin to gain centimetres upwards. 

YANK. 

Up.

YANK. 

Up. 

YANK. 

Up. 

And so, we begin to make progress. I can see the bottoms of my pants after a little. A minute later, I can look down the hole and see my little pink and purple rain boots. I’m excited for a moment. 

Then Oak tugs again, and my feet slip. 

One more tug, they slip more. I clench my toes and wiggle down in Oak’s arms to attempt to keep my boots on my feet. Oak grunts, and shifts me in his arms before yanking again.

I keep trying in vain to keep my boots on my feet, before giving up. With a final yank, Oak hoists me out of the mud, leaving my boots buried. He holds me up for a few seconds, before asking, “Are you out?”

“Well, yeah. But, my boots…” Is my reply. He looks awkwardly over my shoulder and heaves a heavy sigh, before throwing me backwards. I land and trip over my own two feet into a bush, get up, and attempt to look composed, before sitting down on a fallen tree and beginning to clear my neon orange socks.

Meanwhile, Oak is still in the death mud, tugging my boots out. He has to reach down to his elbow to grab a hold of them, and tug with all of his strength. Finally, one bursts up out of the lovely mess of mud with a splatter of dirty water. He chucks it back at me, before repeating the process with the other one. I murmur a "thank you" at him and pick up my messy rubber boots. Oak doesn't pay attention to me as he attempts to move his foot up.

And guess what? 

HE'S stuck as well! 

 Oooohohoho boy, this is just fantastic. I've managed to get my CAMP COUNSELLOR STUCK. But, Oak manages to free himself after a bit of a struggle and a lot of laughter from the other counsellors. Liesel still hasn't let me live this down. 

Tl;dr: Wanted to help a friend, got stuck in some mud, lost my boots, and threw a counsellor into the pond mud of doom. No biggie. 

I can’t really make singular posts on these because they’re not long enough for stories, but feel free to ask me about them- I wouldn’t mind elaborating! These are some incidents that most people have never heard of from me.

(FAIR WARNING: Most of these are Liesel)

1. When Liesel and I decided to make stir-fry in a small frying pan at 9PM in the living room

2. The beauty of when we first dyed Liesel’s hair

3. The intense Christmas cookie murder mystery bake-off

4. “I’m not scared of the Kit-Kat!” Said before flinching away from a Kit-Kat in fear

5. Texts at 10:30PM: “STELLA HELP HOLY CHEESE I ONLY HAVE 3 DAYS TO MAKE MY COSPLAY FOR COMICCON”

6. When Liesel’s ski snapped before we even got in the chairlift line

7. My parents walk out of our shared hotel room, leaving Liesel and I alone. 2 seconds after the door closes, Liesel slams the door to the bedroom open, pirouettes out, and does the splits, all while singing, “THE FOLKS ARE GOOOOONNNEEE, IT’S TIME FOR BIG FUN!”

8. Room service and Dr. Who in Banff

9. The wonderful world of geocaching and how we got lost in a thunderstorm

10. The miming through classroom doors

11. (This happens whenever a test is announced) Liesel and I race out to meet each other in the hallway, and begin to harmonize while singing, “HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLYSHITHOLYSHITHOLYSHITHOLYSHITHOLYSHIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTT!!!!”

12. It does not matter where we are. It does not matter what we’re doing.            (Dramatic high-kick) “FEEL MY LEGS”

Honey, you’re on anon and this is Tumblr.

Ahhhhhhh, yes. The magic of skinny, hollow tubes that flip over at the slightest movement.

This one is pretty short, actually, and I apologize. 

Soooooooo, kayaking, right? In the middle of the summer, raining like all heck every 3 hours, fun fun fun. Anyway, the counselors- oh, yes, we had counselors, because this was TECHNICALLY a camp- said that we were going for a paddle around the lake. This was pretty normal, so we picked our kayaks, carried them to the beach, got paddles and lifejackets, and pushed off. 

Now, the thing about the lake- it’s really deep and really big, and there’s a bunch of fish and seaweed in there. Well, we call it seaweed. Technically speaking, it’s lakeweed, but it looks like seaweed- y’know what, we’re calling it lakeweed. So, paddling about, when one of the counselors, Charlie, tells us to stop and pull together. We do so.

Now, near the edge of our flotilla line of kayaks, there’s this kid called Riley. Riley absolutely despised that lakeweed. It disgusted him to the point of flinching and screaming if you waved some near him

You know where this is going.

So, Charlie is paddling up to us in his big red canoe, and this kid next to Riley decides to reach over the edge of their canoe and pull out a long piece of lakeweed. This kid then proceeds to full out Kobe that stuff into Riley’s kayak and onto his lap.

Riley flips the freak out and starts screaming and flailing, in the process grabbing the kayak of the kid who threw the lakeweed. Riley then proceeds to lean both his kayak and the other kid’s kayak to the left, where all of the other people were lined up.

What starts next is a domino effect of kayaks flipping over and children screaming as they went headfirst into cold water and lakeweed. Meanwhile, Charlie sitting in his canoe, going, “Whoa, man!” and laughing so hard he nearly falls out.

So, now, we have at least 20 kids in the deepest part of the lake, screaming bloody murder at each other and trying to hold onto our paddles and smack each other simultaneously. Charlie is still sitting in his canoe, still laughing, the other counselor- Stephanie- is trying to signal him from the shore to make sure we’re not drowning, and everything is a big mess of coldness and fish.

In the end, we ended up pulling our kayaks to a nearby island in the middle of the lake and going swimming, because, hey, we were already soaked anyway. 

These zip lining stories will be SO out of order, but eh. I can't remember what order they're in anyway.

I'm going to tell this story first, because it's the story I get asked most on. It stems from two questions: "Stella, why do you have that scar on your shin?" and "Stella, you crashed into what?!"

So, I was zip lining with my cousin, Marcus. We had moved on to a lovely little thing called the aerial park. Now, the park had three levels, all full of obstacles. Green was training (easy and close to the ground), blue was intermediate (average and about 30 feet up), and black (reeeaaaaallllly hard and 60 feet up). This lovely incident happened on the blue run. The aerial park had many obstacles you had to jump over, through, and around. There were also zip lining sections, where you basically had to lean into your harness and use a bar that spanned across two harness straps to steer. Now, these zip lining sections were rather short and (as everything else was) built into the trees. The wire that you flew down was connected between two trees, with little ramps on the trees to jump off of and run on.

So, I clip my harness onto the little wire to zipline down, as there was no instructor up there. Marcus was well ahead of me, and our shared instructor, Chris, had shifted his full attention to Marcus from the ground. Determined to catch up to my cousin, I rush towards the edge of the platform, tripping in the process. I fall, my harness catching me as I swing wildly from side to side. Realizing I need to straighten out, I drop one of my legs and grab the bar to try and stop swinging. It doesn't really work, despite my repeated attempts, but I soon stabilize myself enough to try and land on the platform and grab the rope to pull myself up.

Key word: try.

Keep in mind, my attempts to straighten out stop around 2 seconds before the platform, and my mind isn't focused on where my other limbs are. As a result, 0.1 seconds before I hit the platform, I realize my leg is still down.

The next half second consists of my shin catching on the ramp to the platform, causing my body to pivot around it. The wooden ramp digs into my shin, causing the scar.

What also happens is a rather loud THUNK as my face hits the tree.

I mean, sure, the tree wasn't THAT hard- there was slight padding around the tree. However, my face mostly missed the padding (lucky me!), so IT HURT.

However, in all my pain and shock, I begin to slide backwards. I realize my hand has missed the rope to pull myself up. Because I had no intention of getting stuck in the middle of a zipline, I do the only thing I can do and hug the tree. I hear from the ground, "Marcus! Dude, that's AWESOME!" before a slight pause and a question of "Wait, where's Stella?"

I had been slowly dragging myself up onto the platform to safety and had successfully clipped my harness hooks onto the little halo of wire and safety on the platform. Following procedure, I give a weak little cry of "clear!' across the course. At that moment, Chris walks over to a spot where he can see me. He smiles at me, shading his eyes.

The tale of the eensy-weensy Toby Double.

So, I mentioned earlier how getting lost while skiing never turns out well for me? This is one of the reasons why. Liesel and I had been skiing the whole day, and she was complaining about how we always did the same old runs. We both decided to turn the opposite direction we normally did when exiting the chair, and from there on, decide where to go. So, we get off, ski to the right, get our poles on, then look at the runs. Liesel suggests a run called “Canadian Way,” and us being patriotic little suckers (hAH), we decide to go on that run. 

We start skiing, and the first thing I notice is that it’s extremely windy. I’m talking windy enough so that, if I didn’t try and keep myself on a certain course, I would be blown over the edge of the trail. This first realization leads me to notice that there is a very steep drop off from this specific trail.

But that’s beside the point.

So, we’re happily skiing along, minding our own business, and we get to a trail merge. Liesel signals to me that we’ll keep going onto the little offshoot trail- you know, the ones that lead off the runs into the village or Narnia or Zillyhoo or wherever? Yeah, those ones. 

So, we keep skiing along, going on Zillyhoo path after Zillyhoo path, until Liesel stops in front of me. She mumbles through her balaclava, neck warmer, and mask that we were on the path leading to the Village (where the rooming was, if you have no clue what I’m talking about). I’m quiet for a second, making a horrified face under my balaclava that I realize too late she can’t see, before Liesel continues. “Oh well. We’ll just catch the gondola back up.” She then turns and pushes herself to movement once more, skiing down the path. I nod and ski after her, still pretty nervous. This was because, a) for all intents and purposes, we were lost, b) my phone had died, so we only had Liesel’s, and c) we had passed a snowboarder trying to do stuff on her phone and failing because (of course) there’s no service when you’re skiing in the middle of a freakin’ forest. But, we ski on.

We go on too many more Zillyhoo paths to count, before I finally see one that’s labeled, “To the Village.” I’m happy. but that turns into shock as Liesel skis down the mountain, and not onto the Zillyhoo path to freedom. Since she’s the only other person on the hill and also my only source of communication at this point, I follow her, waving goodbye to my (assumed) way out.

We go on the rockiest path I’ve ever seen, my skis scraping beneath me (which is not a pleasant sound in the slightest), before I see a bridge. Liesel stops a ways away from it, so I stop beside her. I then take notice of the smallest chairlift I’ve ever seen. These tiny 8-years olds were getting onto it (I’m saying 8 because that’s the oldest they could’ve possibly been), clad in racing suits and sometimes with parents or ski instructors. They would be squeezed side by side in the chair, which they would swing and bounce as they screamed with joy.

And good lord, was it terrifying.

So, Liesel and I look at each other, like, what the flying heck are we going to do now this is Satan’s chairlift what in the name of crackerjack, before Liesel speaks. What follows is a long conversation that I wont write here. It basically consisted of Liesel vehemently refusing to go on that chairlift, me saying that there was no other way to go back up, and her being vague and staring out into the distance while small children gawked at us. FINALLY, I convince her to go on the  chairlift, stating that it’s out only way out, and ski down the bridge to the chairlift. It is there, as I take off my poles, that I notice the name of the chair. It’s called the Toby Double, and I can see why- I mean, it’s a two seater chairlift, and you’ll still be up close and personal with whoever you’re sitting with. I also notice the little whiteboard note on the sign, saying “#MakeTobyGreatAgain.” I initially get a laugh out of that because, ha ha, it’s the catchphrase of the apocalypse, but I understand it later.

Ski up to the red waiting line for the chairlift to pick us up, and the (extremely attractive) lift operator begins conversation with us. I mention how we got lost and ended up at this chair, before I’m picked up and shot into the distance.

This chair was going Sunbird Triple levels of speed, and the entire thing was bouncing because of those absolutely terrifying 8 year olds. Liesel and I are crammed together. For a minute, we’re both silent. Then I look at her and she looks at me, and we both just absolutely lose it. I mean, I am leaned over the bar laughing and Liesel is snorting while splayed back over the seat back. We’re laughing like idiots for five minutes, calm down a bit, try to speak, and then laugh all over again. I’m pretty sure Liesel took a picture and posted it on Snapchat talking about our predicament, and we just sort of sat there, snorting and wondering how we got this low while the tiny chair of doom and apocalyptic intentions carried us into the clouds.

Otherwise known as the terrifying Sunbird Triple.

So, Liesel and I are skiing at Panorama, and we talk to my dad a little, because a) we’re staying with him and he’s unescapable, and b) he’s the only other person in the house who ski’s. Now, this story starts off about a year ago, and ends yesterday.

So, my dad tells Liesel and I about the chairlifts that he used to ride when he was our age. These chairlifts were tiny, had rock hard seats, and didn’t slow down at all. Like, there was a person at the bottom of the chair who had to catch it so you wouldn’t get pummeled over by it. All in all, they didn’t sound very pleasant to two 12-year-olds who still faceplanted on blue runs at times.

Liesel and I decide to go exploring one day (something which another one of my tales will prove is NEVER  a good idea with us), and we somehow end up at a chair we’ve never seen or tried before. It’s called the Sunbird Triple, and there’s some people lined up to get on it already. Seeing as there was no other way to get out of the weird cul-de-sac of snow and we were curious, we decide to try the chair.

Now, as we’re getting our tickets scanned, I observe the chair. The first thing I notice is the lift operator standing outside on a patch of rubber tread. The second thing I notice is how quickly the line is moving. The third thing I notice, to my horror, is that the chairlift moves at an incredibly fast pace, and doesn’t slow down.

Oh HEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLL TO THE NAH.

I mumble this to Liesel as we ski up to the gate, and her face twist into an expression of “nononononONOOOOOOOOOOO.” But it’s too late to turn back, as we’re building up a line behind us and it’s our turn to go. 

So, Liesel and I sprint-ski to the operator, who grabs the chair and slows it down. He then lets go of the chair, scooping us up and sending us swinging up into the sky. I grab onto the tiny metal armrest for dear life and slam myself backwards, swinging the chair even more. Liesel and I then grab the bar and slam it down as fast as we can, and transfer our white-knuckled grip to that. Both of us are leaning nearly all the way back in our tiny seats, trying not to flip over the low seat back. Finally, Liesel turns to me.

“We’re gonna die,” is the only thing she says, and I frantically nod in agreement. I’m sure in my mind that this is a chair of death, going at supersonic speeds. With gloom already on my mind, I decide to look down to see just how screwed we are if this screeching, ancient chair drops.

I immediately snap my head back up and try to mould even farther into the seat, swinging the chair as Liesel shrieked at me. This chair was at least two or three times higher than the normal chair, and went over the most rocky terrain I’d ever seen. We both kept holding onto the seat and squeaking, terrified for our lives. But, somewhere during the 10-minute chairlift ride (yeah, IT WAS THAT LONG), we began to calm down a bit. I still had enough terror in me to ask how I was going to get off this chair and not die. Liesel and I started stewing over this a little, before seeing someone give a thumbs down to the chairlift guy, who then slowed the chairlift down. So, yeah. I did that, got off without tripping (much), and survived.

Flashback to yesterday, when Liesel and I were skiing together again. We somehow manage to get our way back to the inescapable loop of the Sunbird Triple, and once more facing no other choice, we go up to the chair. Now, we are significantly calmer this time, but both Liesel and I are still kinda scared of this thing. So, we go up, stand there, and wait for the chair. I’m expecting the chair swinging upwards and picking me up. I’m not expecting the chair hitting me full speed in the back of the knees, therefore K.O-ing me onto the chair and  causing me to nearly slide off the seat as it lifts up. Just as we somehow get the bar down (just barely at that), the chairlift suddenly stops. We all jerk forward as the chair swings. A moment of silence as we both check out who the heck got slam dunked by the chair (we didn’t see anyone on the bottom of the chair), before we both start talking. 

“Huh. Well, that was short.” Liesel comments.

“Yeah. I wonder when they’ll start again?” Is my reply, before both our  eyes go wide and we groan. This chair went pretty fast normally, so imagine the jerk when it went back to it’s normal speed after a full stop...

So, as Liesel hears the bell ring, we both grab on for dear life. To my surprise, the chair starts slowly. I slowly let go of the bar and look to Liesel. She laughs at me, like ‘well then.’ We’re calm.

But then the chair starts going faster,

And faster,

And FASTER,

And, bam, now we’re swinging in wind and snow on a chairlift of death and doom, freezing and terrified and screaming OH GOD.

But, hey.

We’re both alive.

A compilation of short and sweet ones.

‘Ello, Inara! If you’re reading this, you’ll remember this as you breaking a table while I laughed and filmed your frustration. Also, to quote you from another one of my posts, “shit exposed.” 

So, Inara had brought in a case of 6 Classic Coke bottles that were actually filled with Coke and not those weird antique empty ones you find in garage sales. She was very excited for this, and the bottles looked pretty cool, so I was happy just looking at them. Inara offered me one, and I turned her down (I don’t like Coke). She just shrugged and took out a bottle for herself. I went back to my work, quietly researching white blood cells, until I heard a little “oh shit” from beside me. Turning back around, I see Inara holding the bottle with her eyebrows furrowed. She then turns to me and goes, “Stella, do you possibly have a bottle opener?” I answer that no, I do not have one- because who brings a bottle opener to Science class?

Inara continues asking around to see if anyone has a bottle opener. When her search yields nothing, she sighs and slumps over. I’m still focusing on my project, because I’m sure that after figuring out that no one has a bottle opener, Inara will just set the bottle down and wait until she gets home to open it. But no, apparently the call of Coca-Cola was just too much for dear sweet Inara. She opens her laptop and starts researching ways to open a bottle without a bottle opener. At first, I’m just sort of sitting there, but after Inara asks me if I have either a pair of scissors or some handcuffs, I get absorbed in her quest for the Coke. 

We talk back and forth, me asking her why she couldn’t open the bottle with something else, her responding. Finally, Inara told me, “Well, the article says not to open the bottle on a table, but what’s the worse that can happen? I mean, it’s a thick wooden table. We’re not going to scratch it.” I shrug and agree, although a little part of me is thinking “this isn’t going to turn out well”. But, I don’t speak my concern. Inara lines up the cap with the edge of the table, lifts a hand, and slams down on the bottle.

And the table breaks. 

I’m completely serious when I say a piece of the table cracked off, with the bottle still unopened-like, there was not a DENT in the bottle. Inara and I look at each other with faces of “oH ShIT” before she throws the piece away and says, “That never happened.” I nod frantically and awkwardly wave my hands as she gets up to go find something. I sigh and turn back to my work, trying to act innocent (these were still the days when we sat directly in front of the teachers desk). After attempting to read something and wondering how the heck we’d explain thins, Inara sits back down. She’s holding a pair of scissors. We start talking again, the mood lightens, everyone calms down from “ohgodwhat” mode.

Soon, our conversation deteriorates into me giggling at her, while she tries to pry the cap off of the bottle with a pair of scissors. It turns so bad at one point, I grab her phone and start videoing her struggle (like the lovely friend I am). Finally, near the end of class, I hear a pop.

“See! I knew it would work,” Inara victoriously told me as she drank from her newly-opened Coca-Cola bottle.

GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM THE DEAD

DAT’S RIGHT

IT ME

Also, I have posts queued up and stuff, so expect some weirdness soon.

Also also, I just got back from a ski trip with Liesel, so expect some weirdness from that coming as well.

Featuring a language barrier and severe miscommunication. 

Just... ugh. Science class is weird.

Today’s story will be stemming from the magnificent quote that is:

"Welcome to the Martha Stewart cooking show. Today, we'll be making corpse turnovers!" -Joseph

If you hadn’t guessed from the title and quote already, this is a pretty weird discussion. In summary, in encompasses tuberculosis, Indian zombies, cremation, religion, and cooking. How about I just get into the story?

Soooooooo, it was Science class, as earlier mentioned. We were examining a lung dissection from a man who’d died from tuberculosis. I was chomping away on chips and drinking an orange Crush, unfazed by the weirdness of cut-up human lungs, and am drawing out the basic shape of the lung while talking to my table group. This group consists of Joseph (across from me), Zidane (on my left), and Inara (across from Zidane). 

So, we’re talking aimlessly about the infected organs in front of us, and wondering about the dead guy they came from. Then, we start talking about our dead relatives. Inara suddenly pipes up, “Oh! I need to show you something.” She then starts rapidly typing on her laptop.

I hadn’t been drawing much anyway, so I put down my pencil and wrapped myself up tighter on the blanket Inara had insisted I wear. Inara continued. “Yeah, Muslims have this really weird thing where they bury their loved ones in this sort of.... communal graveyard. Like, the bodies will be moved after a couple months, and a new body will be put in the grave.” Now, the other 3 of us are pretty confused, Joseph and I because we’re not Muslim and haven’t heard of this at all, and Zidane because he is Muslim, and has also never heard of this. After a few cries of “Really?!” and “No way!!” from Joseph and I, Zidane speaks up. 

“Are you sure about that?” He asks. Inara nods her head, and says she’s Muslim, so she knows. Zidane then continues. “I’ve never even heard of these! I’m not sure of they exist.” Inara assures him that, while she’s never seen one in person, they do exist, and continues rapidly typing on her laptop, attempting to find proof. Joseph starts asking questions.

“So, do they just throw the bodies out after they’re moved out of the grave, or what? Doesn’t it seem a little... disrespectful?” Inara opens her mouth, closes it, then open it again.

“Well, they don’t throw the bodies out, they just sort of.... turn them over. Like, corpse turnovers.” She says. Joseph leans over to look at her screen, and I hear him quietly go, “You’re actually searching up corpse turnovers.” I’ve been giggling along silently up to this point, but I put down my Crush to put in my two cents.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but now I’m thinking about apple turnovers now.” The other 3 nod and agree with me. We start a conversation based off that topic, and dive in, all work forgotten. Joseph suddenly snorts and puts on this really weird, high pitched voice. We all start snorting and laughing- I swear, I nearly choked on my Crush- as he begins to imitate a Martha Stewart cooking recipe you’d see on TV. This consisted of starting out with, "Welcome to the Martha Stewart cooking show. Today, we'll be making corpse turnovers!" and slowly getting worse from there on. After that weird conversation, I mention how, if I was a mortician, I would tie the shoelaces of the dead bodies together in case the zombie apocalypse ever came. We began talking about what preventative measures could be taken in a zombie apocalypse. I finally say, “Why don't we just not preserve the bodies, so they can decompose and NOT become zombies?” Everyone mutters their agreement and understanding. 

Inara then puts her two cents in. She suggests, “Oh, yeah! Or, we could cremate them.” We nod, like “yeah, good idea, good idea.” Inara than continues by saying, “There wouldn’t be many Indian zombies then.” 

Moment of silence, before everyone proceeds to lose it. I nearly snorted Crush, Zidane was banging at the table and nearly falling backwards off his chair, and Joseph had his head back and was gasping out little mutters of “Inara, WHAT THE HECK.” I should mention, we’re right at the front of the class, in front of the table where the teacher sits. So, Mr. Earle is witnessing us cackling like witches gone mental while grading our test. 

Dear god, my friends are weird.

(As bonuses, I’ll put in two other quotes from that class, because you need to be persuaded that we are crazier than you think.

"Corpses can do things, like… expel gas…. AND GET ERECTIONS!" -Inara

"Why have Perks of Being a Wallflower, when you can have Perks of Being a Corpse?" -Inara

Ahhhhhh, Inara.)

Well, this just proves how you should never trust me with hand-eye coordination. Ever.

It’s Winter Break, and my family is like “Let’s go skating and sledding and skiing and shopping and and and and and and” because my parents insisted on doing something other than marathoning Star Wars. Seriously. It is five days into Winter Break, and I’m sore like crazy. 

So, anyway, we go skating. Several times, actually, but this story is about the first time we went skating. I live by this lake, and we all go skating and sledding on/near it when winter comes. This year, I guess the idiots clearing the snow didn’t know the meaning of patience, because there’s a bunch of cracks EVERYWHERE on the lake. I’m surprised I’ve only fallen once. 

So, I’m done skating my 3-ish laps around this huge lake, and I go back to my mom for a drink. Now, my mom managed to sprain something in her foot by doing this Superman, Bobby Orr, hey-lookit-I-can-fly dive while we were playing Frisbee in November, and I had stolen her skates anyway, so she’s on the sidelines. When I find her, she’s lounged out across our sled with my brother’s hockey bag on the dock. I shove my coat and stuff into the bag, because I’m already wearing about 3 layers of clothing without that big, Eskimo thing, and I’m hot.

My mom gets up and asks me if I’m thirsty, then gives me my brother’s waterbottle. Now, my brother’s waterbottle is the type of waterbottle that has this really long part to drink out of, so you can stick it through the bars of your helmet when playing hockey. This is also a fairly tiny waterbottle, made out of thick plastic, because who trusts five-year-olds with anything? So, my mom tells me to squirt the water into my mouth, because a good portion of my family is at least mildly sick. I’m mentally saying, “Oh, this can’t end well,” but I go through with my mother’s instructions anyway.

Because I am an idiot.

So, I position the waterbottle in what I think is a good position, open my mouth, close my eyes, and squeeze. A few seconds later, I don’t feel anything. My first thought is, Squeeze harder! So, I squeeze as hard as I can. At the last second, I hear my mother going, “NONONONONONONONONONONONO!” I then proceed to completely soak my face and get the waterbottle slapped out of my hands by my very astonished mother. Having absolutely NO CLUE what in the good lord Sparkles the Unicorn’s name was going on, I just stared at her like a deer in the headlights with a mouthful of water. My mother is staring at me like I’m the biggest idiot in the universe, and screams, “STELLA, what were you doing?! Look at your shirt!” I look down, and see that my entire shirt- and I’m not exaggerating when I say my ENTIRE SHIRT- was soaking wet. I’m scared to swallow the water in my mouth at this point. My mom continues. “What were you thinking, you idiot! Standing there, mouth wide open-” She stops here to mimic/mock me, miming a waterbottle and scrunching up her face in an exaggeration of me squinting into the sun- “And the whole time, I’m standing there, like, ‘When is she going to realize?!’” At this point she’s laughing. 

Now, I would’ve stood up for myself and said I couldn’t feel the water through the insane amount of clothing she made me wear, but I wasn’t able to. She had set me off laughing, and as you may remember, I had a very full mouth of water. Now, the thing about me is, when I laugh with something in my mouth, I’m very determined not to spray it everywhere. So, I developed this weird adaptation. I clamp my mouth shut and laugh, and my instinct to not choke drives whatever is in my mouth straight up my nose. Anything and everything can do that (it’s happened with carrots before), so you can see what happens next.

Absolute water fountain comes straight out of my nose, and I hunch over, because A), having things shot through your nose at high speeds hurts like a snapping turtle attacking your crotch, B), I’m still laughing, and C), I’m choking from the tiny bit of water that’s still in my mouth. This sets my mother off, so now we’re both laughing like maniacs in public, her while slipping and sliding on ice and snow, and me while soaking wet and choking.

Ah, the things we do in public.

BUT, WAIT! THERE’S MORE! I begin to skate while I laugh/die, so now I’m sliding backwards. My skate gets stuck in a crack, and I flip over backwards onto the dock, straight into a snowbank that’s about 4 inches thick. So now, to add to the fact my FRONT is freezing, I’m now covered in snow. And still laughing, mind you. 

What does my mother do during all of this? Laugh harder and try to get her phone out so she can take pictures of me. Familial love at its finest.

I FINALLY manage to swallow the water I’m choking on and breathe, while my mother shove tissues in my face and continues to cackle along her merry way. As I wipe my nose off (my sinuses feel like they’re being chemical blasted), I watch as my mother nearly falls over from laughing, while attempting to scold me for sitting in snow. Interesting sight, I can tell you.

After that ordeal was over, my mother pulled me up and brushed the snow off of me. She then took me by the shoulders,

Stared into my eyes,