Open your mouth, close your eyes, here comes a big surprise

Weird family:

I grew up in a household of game players (board, car, made up), which I am sure will lead to many other blog posts in the future.

One game my eldest sister made up was called "Open your mouth, close your eyes, here comes a big surprise". I'm sure you can pretty much surmise what the game entailed, but for those of you who are slow on the uptake, allow me to explain.....

One person sits in a designated chair when it is their turn. The other players, however many there may be, take turns choosing foods out of the kitchen. Upon picking their poison, they look to the person in the chair and tell them, say it with me, "open your mouth, close your eyes, here comes a big surprise."

Needless to say, being in the chair requires a lot of trust in the other players, and is a very vulnerable position. I am, to this day, a picky eater and I blame it on this very game.

I played the other day with my boyfriend, allowing him to take the punishment first. I, having been traumatized in the past, was friendly. I offered him grapes, cookie dough, and a pecan. Then, thinking I had earned his loyalty, I took my turn in the chair. I was fed bitter, unsweetened cocoa powder, a mouth full of honey, and a croûton. I will likely not play this game for a very long time, or ever again.

What's that? You were wondering about my traumatic experience? Well, allow me to explain. (Que scaling harp)

One day, as a young, and innocent might I add, child, I agreed to play this heinous game. After my older sister and I gave our eldest sister a piece of chocolate, and after I watched her spray cooking spray into our middle sister's mouth, I began fearing for my turn.

Well, I took my place in the chair, opened my mouth, closed my eyes and accepted my surprise. It was a chicken heart.

WHAT!? A chicken heart you say?

Yes a chicken heart. I was fed a chicken heart. Chew on that (no pun intended).

In case you are wondering what a chicken heart even looks like, I will show you.

Okay, not really, but that's what it felt like in my mouth. In all seriousness, here it is:

That's all for now. I was wounded, I healed, and yesterday, after a mouth full of honey and croûtons, my scars were ripped wide open.

The Boogeyman's my father

Weird Family:

My dad decided to instill fear in me at a young age. It started shortly after I reached the age where I put myself to bed. I would turn off the lights, get into bed and right before slipping into unconsciousness I would hear a slow creaking noise as my closet door opened.

Yup.... that's right, let that sink in. My dad would hide in the closet, wait for me to get in bed, creep out, then jump at me. Naturally, the scars formed quickly.

Well, I got wise and figured I would check the closets before going to bed. As if that would deter him.

Then finally, he crossed the line and funny dad became psychotic freak.

After checking the closet, and tucking myself in, a hand reached out from under my bed and grabbed my arm.

Yes, he was under my bed. Who does that? I'll tell you who, villains from scary movies, monsters, dead people*, and the boogeyman.

So, needless to say, I still run and jump into bed, and I'm probably the most easily started person in the world.

*Remember the dead girl in The Sixth Sense that grabs Haley Joel Osment's ankle? If not, here she is.....

Wisdom teeth

A perfect first example of how my life is weird. I went to the dentist today and guess what? I have five wisdom teeth. Say what? Yeah I know! Go ahead, close that mouth and pick yourself up off of the floor. Five wisdom teeth.

Maybe you're lost so I will fill you in. See those freaky teeth on the edges that are fighting their way in? Well... imagine this picture with another little guy contending for a spot in my mouth. Most people.... like 99%... have four wisdom teeth that for some reason have to come out. I'm all for having mine yanked because I will not let my 8 years of orthodontics including spacers, retainers, braces (two times), etc, lead to any bicuspid or incisor or molar shiftage. That's right these baby's are staying straight even if I have to take them out myself.

Let's see (insert rummaging through toolbox sound) Ahhhhh, there's the pliers...............just kidding.

So, after discussing my options and deciding on an oral surgeon, it was determined that this is the lucky summer I get my FIVE new friends taken out.

The going rate on ebay is about $5 for 4 teeth so I'm thinking I'll get at least seven for the rarity of mine right?

Do overs

I started a blog, hated it, was encouraged to try again, so here I am. This blog is about my weird family and my weird life. I've realized too many strange things happen around me to not write it down. If nothing else my grandchildren can read it when I'm old on their holographic space computers and remember how different my life is. Enjoy, or not.