No one to blame but myself

As a child I remember alot of stuff.....
Like having a crush on a boy and getting him a swiss army style pair of toenail clippers.
Ya know, In case he got stranded in the forest and needed a pedicure.
I put it in a ziplock bag, that I drew hearts and lips all over, then snuck to his window in broad daylight,
* so the sun would blind anyone who might see me*
and left it on his window sill........where he never found it, until the rain obliterated my lovely art work of love.
Then I saw him picking his nail with the file of my gift....while talking to Wendy on the bus. That is where I planned my first hair snatching & eye scratchin.......Totally his fault for being a bag, BUT It wouldnt hurt my feelings if ALL of Wendys children were born with a crooked pinky toe, making it impossible to wear open toe shoes without people pointing and laughing.
Crush stealing harlot......

I also remember thinking I was McGyver when our wack job neighbor started shooting at his daddy over a gallon of milk. Children were running everywhere.....but I was cool as a cucumber.
Sprinting in and out from between parked cars, running in zig zag patterns,  until I rolled *stuntman style* behind a bush........where I fashioned myself a dusguise of mud and shrubbery<<< total McGyver move!
In reality, my disguise was mud in my eye from diving head first.....and a big limb that I held over my head, as I ran screaming to the house.
The idea was, the branch would confuse the gunman, so if he tried blowing my head off.......he would just be shooting a stick.
In hindsight, I prooooobably should have dressed the branch up to make it more believable.....and I am lucky I didnt poke my eye out running, like a ostrich, with a sharp stick in my hand.

Then there was the time my daddy said my mama looked like a "street walker", when he picked me up for a weekend visit.
Mama was going out with friends, and I thought she was the prettiest woman I ever saw.
So " street walker" obviously meant he thought she was beyond beautiful.....and I was putting that term in my memory bank for future use.
Yep......there would come a day where I could tell my mama she looked like a street walker, and it would make her the happiest woman ever.
Imagine my joy when the very next sunday, at the Kingdom Hall for Jehovahs Witnessss, someone complimented my mothers beauty........
**Here my chance!!! Eeeek !**
"Dont you think she looks JUST like a streetwalker??? My mama is the prettiest street walker ever! Everybody says so".............
I faintly remember a bathroom and her not sparing the rod after that.
I'm definately NOT going to hell cause my mama saved me from it, with that single come to Jesus in the stall at the Kingdom Hall.

It really is no wonder my children are a bit off..........