Last week as I was driving to dinner at a friend’s house, the “add fuel” light came on. I knew, I absolutely KNEW, that I had enough gas left to make it there and wait to fill up on the way home. And I was running late. And there was a 7-week-old baby at that house, and that 7-week-old baby butt was not going to pat itself, you know what I’m saying? And yet: I almost pulled in to every gas station I passed on the way to their house.
Why?
Because when I was 16 I ran out of gas. Once. Four blocks from my house. And my parents, who had to drive FOUR WHOLE BLOCKS to bring me a gas can so I could rescue my 1991 Ford Explorer from the middle of Elm Street, have never let me live it down. I still hear “remember that time you ran out of gas and stranded the car on Elm Street? Man what a bonehead move hahahahahahaha!” at least twice a year. FOURTEEN YEARS LATER.
And because I once ran out of gas that one time, I still freak out every time the add fuel light comes on in my car, convinced that I must stop immediately to avoid further cementing my reputation as “the girl who runs out of gas.”
Isn’t it funny, the things that you do that become a part of your family’s history of you? The things you can never live down? I swear, I am usually a highly competent person, but a majority of my family’s favorite stories about me involve some catastrophic screwup.
Like the time I backed out of the garage while the garage door was still closed. That was a good one. Or the time a friend and I were too lazy to make cookie dough so we bought one of those Pilsbury ready-to-bake giant cookie things, except I forgot to take off the cellophane before popping it in the oven so our big cookie came out with a shiny plastic outer layer that said “RemoveThisFirstRemoveThisFirstRemoveThisFirst.”
That friend still signs her Christmas cards to me “RemoveThisFirst.”
Please tell me it’s not just me, that all families torture each other in this way. They do, right? Or am I the only one whose parents still gleefully remind her of that time when she was 14 and spilled an entire bottle of forest green nail polish on the white carpet?
Oh my sweet Jesus. I’m 34 and still get razzled by something that happened when I was 16.
A girl totals one Mazda while drinking coffee and suddenly EVERYONE has to tease her about driving and coffee until she’s in the grave.
Sheesh.
Ummm, yeah, that kind of stuff never dies. Like the story about my prematurely deaf parents. Mom who couldn’t hear me say “I found your earrings” even though I was in the seat behind her in the car. Me repeating myself enough times until I finally yelled at her, “Is there something wrong with your hearing???” And my dad, who was driving, seriously piping in, “What? There’s something wrong with the steering?” That conversation occurred about 20 years ago and my brother and I will never let my parents forget!
Oh, I have MANY “never-live-em-down”s. Like the time I rear-ended a police car (fun!), or the time I sprained my ankle playing mini golf, or how goofy I looked as a kid when I ran (now I just don’t run), or that one time I de-pantsed my dad in a room full of relatives. Ah, memories.
Like the time I puked and ruined two oriental rugs?
The time I spilled Elmer’s Glue on my bedroom rug and it just won’t come out? Even to this very day? And it HURTS it’s so sharp and hard? Even THEO pointed it out a few weeks ago which gave my mom such joy.
The time I burned popcorn in our first apartment and it started on fire? The microwave, I mean?
Yeah, I have a few.
it’s only because you’re highly competent that these things are funny – to a below-average performer it would just be mean.
At least that’s what I tell myself when the stories come out
I agree with Jenny. My mom still tells the story about how when I was four I got mad and tore up this book my preschool teacher had made with art and photos and stories and stuff that I had done from throughout the year. Of course she’s still bitter about it so when she tells the story it can actually create some tension.
When I was about 18 months old, I stepped in a can of paint (apparently on purpose according to my father)). It is still brought up on most major holidays.
The one I bring up is the time my brother got his head stuck between two railings on the NY Circle liner! Cause that was funny and it is leverage.
Ah yes, everyone has those. And I ran out gas less than 4 blocks from home. But I was in front of the house of the friendly neighborhood mechanic, who came out of his garage with a gas can, filled up my car enough to get to the gas station, and sent me on my way. That was in high school and he’s still my mechanic, even though it’s a 45 minute drive to his house.
I have a few of these.
LIke the time I threw a tantrum on a family vacation because I was thirsty and my parents wouldn’t stop anywhere so I could get a drink.
Now, if I even mention I’m thirsty, I get: “Careful, Katie cries when she’s thirsty.”
OMG YES!
There is the fact that I would apparently always spill my beverage at whatever restaurant we would go to and then proceed to cry. I WAS LIKE FIVE! My Grandma still talks about that.
Or when I was rebelling against my stepmom and got mad that she wrapped our Xmas presents all in ONE box, therefore I didn’t have as many presents as everyone else.
There are so many more….
ha. YES. Nobody in our family can screw up, EVER. The teasing is how we show our affection!
I always have to hear about the stuff I did when I was too young to even remember doing it! I was quite the bossy little girl, and I’d often make my family role play that I was coming to dinner as “the neighbour down the street” — I hear about this one a lot, and I have no memory of it.
Also, when I was only 18 months old, I threw a tantrum (par for the course for me apparently), and I ripped a rear-view mirror off of a rental car we had while on vacation in Florida. I was in the car with my uncle at the time in a mall parking lot, my fit was because my mom, aunt and cousin had run into the mall without me — my uncle said he could ‘handle it’, but when my mom returned I was bawling, holding the mirror in one hand, while my uncle was KILLING HIMSELF LAUGHING. Yeah, don’t remember this and was a TODDLER but get flammed for it a lot.