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Topic: You know what I mean...  (Read 30169 times)
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« Reply #70 on: April 18, 2009 12:28:35 PM »

I wasn't ever destructive at all. Hahaha, I asked before I did stuff. I was a good kid Smiley

The only thing my parents ever really got mad at me for that was craft-related was using up all the tape making a little paper castle. It was around christmas time and my mom needed it for presents. She ended up just wrapping them without tape. How, I do not know.

How did she wrap them without tape? Shocked

You should ask her. Cheesy

Sounds to me like she may have used creative paper folding techniques. Wink My mum uses glue sticks when she doesn't have tape.  Tongue
« Last Edit: April 18, 2009 12:29:36 PM by DancinInTheDark » THIS ROCKS   Logged

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« Reply #71 on: April 20, 2009 07:30:38 AM »

When I was around 10 I begged my Dad to by me a model of the starship enterprise (my geekery started really early). I put it together without any major mishapes but when I painted I managed to get bright blue paint (what in the world is blue on the Enterprise?) all over myself. I did put paper down so the carpet survived. The bathtub however did not. I showered and got the blue paint off of my legs and toes but it never occured to me to rinse the tub. To this day, my Dad's bathtub still has blue paint on it! Model paint does not come off, in case anyone didn't know that...

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« Reply #72 on: April 20, 2009 03:40:32 PM »

My mom was careful to keep her sewing and crocheting stuff away from my grasping little hands, but my grandmama had this overwhelmingly messy craft room where who knows what could be found by digging around for a while. I used to spend hours rambling, cutting little bits off her fabric and trims and making makeshift barbie clothes with them. I dumped bright orange paint all over the place, trying to get the really stuck bottle open. I consistently made a mess with her glitter, sequins, pins and needles, buttons, really you name it. The cool thing about her was that she never complained and never forbade me to play in there.
And lol about the gi joe. It reminded me of my brother and my playing with one of my barbies whose head had split at the neck and wouldn't stay on no matter how many times she was glued. She would be the murder victim and the other barbies and gi joes and my little ponies and stuff (we had a varied make-believe universe) would have to solve the crime. My barbies were soooo ghetto (probably from the company they kept  Wink ); their hair was all chopped up and mangled, a lot of the paint was scratched off of their faces, one of them was mostly blue from a dye misadventure. I used to play barbies with a girl who lived down the street whose dolls either lived in their original boxes or in a special carrying case; it was like her posh barbies were doing social work with my crack whore/ feral children barbies. Her malibu barbie was saying "Poor dear, lets coordinate your swimsuit and highheels, and then we can find your your own ken to buy you a dreamhouse." and my mohawked barbie with only one good eyebrow was considering the chopshop value of posh's corvette.  Grin

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« Reply #73 on: April 28, 2009 03:24:21 PM »

When I was about 12 I helped out with an after-school craft club...unfortunately I was carrying a bowl of black paint across the room and spilt it all over the floor....

When I was about 7 I decided to give my barbie a bath, in an empty butter tub with water and washing up liquid..I didn't know it would felt her hair :-(

When I was 14 I decided to make my mum a stuffed toy cat for christmas....unfortunately it came out looking deformed.  I decided spraying it with some perfume would detract from its mangledness.  She still has a deformed stinky cat in her wardrobe! Sentimental value..

edit...remembered another one! For my textiles project when I was 15, we got to use the embroidery machine at school.  Unfortunately I managed to get my fabric tucked under itself before the machine started...oops!  I then had to sneak the work home, complete with the embroidery hoop we were supposed to leave in class, and my poor mother spent the next 4 hours unpicking solid embroidery..we then superglued parts of the thread back together and I snuck it all back into class the next morning.
« Last Edit: April 28, 2009 03:28:06 PM by melissanorth » THIS ROCKS   Logged

« Reply #74 on: April 28, 2009 04:10:49 PM »

I've cut myself numerous times playing with the various sharp objects in my grandma's sewing room. Not to mention getting in trouble for "borrowing" some of the squares she needed for a patchwork quilt. And for digging into her stash of yarn and messing up the whole cabinet. Not to mention losing her crochet hooks, cutting off pieces of ribbon, and destroying several embroidery hoops.

And yet I think I learned most of my crafty stuff from her...

My mom's been pretty good about everything that I do, though. She's gotten used to me walking downstairs with her sewing machine and ten minutes later telling her that I unthreaded it/broke a needle/got the fabric stuck/etc. Plus she's accepted the fact that her yarn cabinet will never be neat and tidy again, let's me go through her fabric stash, and even sacrifices her own clothes for my projects. If I ever have kids I want to have her patience!

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« Reply #75 on: February 07, 2010 12:50:11 AM »

the one I didn't catch it for:

my mom had the most AMAZING collection of silky scarves, an entire dresser drawer full. I loved to play with them (allowed), but one day got the brilliant idea that they would be even more awesome if I made a dress out of them.  I went into her sewing room (NOT allowed...well not alone) got needle and thread, and started sewing.   she came in, saw, walked over, calmly picked my 4-year-old self up, took me into my grandparents' apartment (off the back of the house) and handed me, wearing my creation, to my grandfather who was a tailor. She was laughing SO hard I remember her telling him this was his fault.  "Oh." he says.  "good seam, mia fortuna, but not good to sew without ask."     thankfully I had only put the needle through the rolled hem-parts of the scarves, so they were not all ruined, and they were NOT silk hence why she was not too mad. 

the ones I DID catch it for:

I got mad at my brother and sewed the legs of his underwear shut...every clean pair in the drawer.

I tie-bleached my sister's band-uniform skirt.

I glued a macaroni-mosaic on my bedroom window-frame.

insomnia+sharpie+white bedsheets= custom zentangle sheets when you're 12


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« Reply #76 on: February 07, 2010 01:44:53 PM »

I got mad at my brother and sewed the legs of his underwear shut...every clean pair in the drawer.

ahahahahahahahahahaha!  that's great.   Cheesy

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« Reply #77 on: February 25, 2010 05:56:59 AM »

Oh man these are so funny.

When I was maybe 11 or so, I really can't remember how old I was. I decided to cook something on the stove, it was all going really well until it was time to take the pot off the stove. The pot handle was really hot so I grabbed a tea towel to wrap around the handle so I wouldn't burn myself. Well the tea towel kinda caught fire, I got the pot back on the stove with out spilling anything and shook the tea towel to put the fire out. Then threw the "evidence" into the laundry so Mum wouldn't see what I did. Well about 5 min's later we smell smoke! Yes, I set the laundry on fire. It wasn't to bad tho, Mum put it out pretty quick. Only a washing basket and some clothing got burned.
I didn't actually get into trouble for this either, I don't know if Mum actually believed me when I said I have no idea how it happened but she called up the fire brigade to talk to them about it and they actually said to her it was possible it spontaneously combusted because it was soooo cold that day and maybe the washing was somehow creating heat.  I still have no idea if she knew it was me or not and I'm 27 now... I wonder if I should ask lol.

Also one day when I was babysitting my younger brother. He was about 8-9 at the time and was meant to be in his room cleaning it. Well he came out screaming, with blood everywhere and a large chunk of meat missing from his finger. I took him to our next door neighbor because she was a nurse and she got him all cleaned up for me and called Mum and Dad to come home. We asked him how did it cut his finger, and he said he had NO IDEA he was just cleaning him room and it got cut. So Dad investigated and found blood all over his 'hidden' Science kit. It had a scalpel in it. So he cut his finger on that, packed it away neatly (cept for the blood everywhere) HID the kit and then came out to me crying.  LOL good effort trying not to get in trouble for it.  Of course the scalpel was removed from the kit after that.
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« Reply #78 on: March 11, 2010 06:24:00 PM »

hmm... most of my fouled up experiences as a youngun' had to deal with food... When I was 4-5 years old I had made my mom a peanut butter and bologna sandwich on raisin bread, yum! Especially since she was pregnant with my sister at the time! Then there was the time that my dad caught me trying to fry radishes! He said that I had the radishes and some pads of butter in a frying pan on the stove, but it wasn't on (thankfully) cause I couldn't reach the knobs. Fast forward about 10 years when I wanted to make chinese donuts for a class project. I knew nothing about heating oil and thought it was just like heating water to a boil, so of course, I turned it on medium-high and placed a cover on it. About 15 minutes later I went to go check to see if it was boiling yet and as soon as I lifted the cover, the entire thing burst into flames! At least I knew not to throw it in the sink and pour water on it, but instead recovered it and ran it outside to sit on the driveway until it had cooled down and stopped flaming. Our house smelled like burning oil for months >_< And, though my parents let me finish the donut experiment that night, I was never allowed to work with oil again...

oh- and there was the one time in summer school when the teacher asked me to bring her her stapler, I tripped and stapled my thumb ;_; that sucked...

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« Reply #79 on: March 14, 2010 04:40:08 PM »

I remember also trying to make perfume.  Flowers and water.  I had the mixture on my dresser for weeks.  Well, one day something knocked it it over, spilling the contents all over the wall.  It looked like someone had been murdered.  This was the time as a kid of learning about legends like "Bloody Mary" and what not.  So i catch a glimpse of the wall and go screaming to my mother that we have some kind of poltergeist or supernatural being in my room.

I can't get through picturing that whole sequence of events without laughing hysterically.

Of course I was also a good one for tangling boxes upon boxes of my mothers' yarn.  Or stealing skeins of it for nonsense projects.  She's an avid crocheter so this was a big no-no.  Ironically, now that I'm a mother, my daughter is OCD about rolling yarn balls.  At age 5.   Wink
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