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By Kernut, on February 26th, 2011%
(This post was inspired by Oh Noa’s on lying to her future children. It reminded me of the many lies my parents told us.)
I don’t know about you, but I need some humor while I sort through the Match.com adventures. So today I bring you Lies My Parents Told Me.
1. If you don’t behave I’m going to trade you in for new kids. My Dad said there was a catalog of kids he could trade us for. A catalog of good kids. Chickenbone and I believed this. We were cuter than we were smart. After my father threatened to do this one too many times, we got really worried. We told Mom that Dad planned to get rid of us by trading us in for good kids. After she stopped laughing, Mom told us that he couldn’t do that. Then she laughed some more. When we told Dad that Mom told us the truth, he laughed, too. That is, until he realized the threat was no longer valid.
2. This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you. Yeah, I’m an adult now and I still don’t buy that crap.
3. We’re divorced. They weren’t. Then they got back together. Then, years later, they got divorced. For real. This time they waited until the minute my father was leaving with suitcases in hand to tell us. Not much time for us to get used to the idea. No time to learn that divorce meant Dad wasn’t going to live with us anymore. A heart-breaking moment for sure. I’m still scarred. And you wondered why I blog. It’s all starting to become clear now, isn’t it?
4. If you don’t eat your vegetables, kids in Africa will starve. Since we really didn’t want the vegetables and the kids in Africa needed them, we asked if we could send them our vegetables in the mail. Mom said no. So we said she shouldn’t buy so many. Don’t stop now! Continue reading Lies My Parents Told Me
By Kernut, on October 1st, 2010%
 The Death of A Fly
Aren’t you glad you come here? Where else could you get such fascinating news as this? Nowhere, trust me.
A recent post about the death of a fly by my hot bloggy friend, A Vapid Blonde, reminded me of the torture we used to inflict as children on flies by making them pilots of small planes.
Criminal profilers say torturing small animals and insects is first act of future serial killers. Just a bit of foreshadowing that probably explains a lot about me now. And probably why I blog.
When we were little, my father taught us how to build small, light-weight paper airplanes. (I’ll skip the details of the airplane construction because I’d rather not contribute to the delinquency of other minors. Unlike my father. Hi Dad! He taught us all the great stuff like shooting, playing poker, and torturing flies by making them pilots.)
After capturing the fly, Don’t stop now! Continue reading The Gruesome Death of A Fly
By Kernut, on May 1st, 2010%
Me, to the bartender, “I’d like a carafe of Margaritas, salt the rim of the carafe, and stick a straw in it.” . . . → Read More: 18 With A Fake ID
By Kernut, on April 28th, 2010%
I learned to mix drinks, quite well actually, and we all had a grand time drinking up the liquor cabinet after school. When the booze would run low, Dad would just replace it. Awesome. *hiccup* . . . → Read More: Drinking and Smoking: My Childhood Memories
By Kernut, on April 2nd, 2010%
 The Rispin Mansion, Capitola, CA. Front entry way. The Time Penny Was Attacked by The Killer Bees
When I was a delinquent young teenager in Capitola, I had some friends with whom I regularly got into trouble had adventures. (See: My First Brush With The Law). One of the places we would regularly go to find trouble was the colloquially named ‘monastery’, formally know as The Rispin Mansion.
(Side note: If you view the more recent photos, note we did NOT spray paint the place, or destroy the statues, and were quick to lecture those who did. We loved that place. I would like to see it restored but it’s going to be torn down and turned into a Bed & Breakfast or something.)
The monestary/Rispin Mansion was once a beautiful mansion built in 1922 by a wealthy man, reported to have transported liquor during the Prohibition.
It seemed only fitting we should go there to drink illegally.
The place once had beautiful parquet floors and statues. It still had secret hidden rooms, and a sliding bookcase. People, I couldn’t make this shit up – I’m not that imaginative. IT WAS AWESOME!
The place was abandoned around 1958, and it’s considered trespassing to be on the grounds.
Yet another good reason for us to go there. Regularly. Don’t stop now! Continue reading Penny and The Attack of The Killer Bees
By Kernut, on March 29th, 2010%
 The Four Seasons Golf Resort - probably not the one we were at. Golf Carts Don’t Float, But Golf Tees Do – Who Knew?!
For a little while after my parents got divorced my father stayed in the general Santa Barbara, CA area. My sister, Chickenbone, and I would spend weekends and long summers with him where we would learn all kinds of grown-up things (much against my mother’s wishes) like playing poker, driving before we were even in our teens, and eating junk food all day long.
My father raised us very differently than my mother: My mother was a fairly strict and conservative parent who raised us on health food, while my father pretty much let us do absolutely anything we wanted. (See My First Brush With The Law for an example.)
And he would often help us cover up the crime.
We were too young to be legally left alone (not because we couldn’t take care of ourselves, but more likely we’d have burnt down the house). But my father liked playing golf, so he had to bring us along.
Just imagine two independent, but restrained-9-months-out-of-the year-then-suddenly-unleashed kids running amok on the golf course. Don’t stop now! Continue reading The Time I Learned Golf Carts Don’t Float
By Kernut, on March 25th, 2010%
It was a match made in heaven: Three gals, three guys, a wee party, and an illegal bonfire. . . . → Read More: My First Brush With The Law
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