Mini question of the day

Food sabotage is boring, therefore here is mini question to keep all you work shy OTers busy.

What was your favourite mix tape?

Scarred for life, tell me how your parents/siblings/friends scarred you mentally or physically for life when you were but wee.

My brother and I decided to "sledge" down the stairs in a cardboard box. I was first (and last) my brother gave me a push, the box tipped forward and the leading edge hit the first step sending my little craft into a roll that was only stopped at the bottem of the stairs by a wall and my head.

There is a small patch on the back of my head where no hair will grow, ever.

bastard.
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 11:37, 13 replies, latest was 16 years ago)

My sister
bit me.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 11:42, Reply)

^^

Where?
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 11:43, Reply)

Loads of places
but generally localised to feet and arms.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 11:56, Reply)

.
See this post.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 12:23, Reply)

Scar on my forehead
It's a bit faint but still there. my mate dared me to run into a chest of drawers when i was 4 :0)
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 12:46, Reply)

My mum scarred me
This is a tale not of my youth but of something that happened only a few weeks back, on August bank holiday weekend.

My folks recently took over a pub and tentative arrangements had been made for my girlfriend and I to go and take advantage of this by drinking all day on the Sunday with them in celebration of the fact we didn't have to work the next day.

Unfortunately, bank holiday weekend was the one before payday meaning that we were both pretty skint so I rang my mum to let her know that we wouldn't be over.

On telling her this, she replied

"That's fine. You should stay in and have early morning sex."

My face dropped. My mum's never talked like this with me before. I didn't know how to reply so I just muttered

"Yeh, maybe"

She decided to carry on though

"Your dad tried that with me this morning. I was woken up to a sharp prodding in my back. It soon went away when I gave it a quick smack though."

That is one mental image I never wanted and will never be able to get rid of!
(Pirate Monkey is not the goddamn Batman, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 12:48, Reply)

Wonder if it's only Irish Mammys
and this of course would have led to my being an orphan had I been born 10-20 years later but the dreaded wooden spoon. I cant look at one without feeling the lash on my reddened behind.
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 12:49, Reply)

@ Baz
My AngloScots mother did the same with me. Maybe it was the Catholicism.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 12:52, Reply)

I'm surprisingly unscarred
considering the hijinks I used to get up to. But my brother has has several, one of which I am responsible for.

I threw a toy plastic Sindy sink at him. It gouged out part of his head, caused gallons of blood to spurt forth and led to a night waiting to be stitched up in the cottage hospital. This was when he was about 3, he's now 28 and still has a bald patch.

He also made a pickaxe fall on to his bonce from a height, again making blood flow freely and resulting in a bald patch in an interesting shape.

He also fell from quite high up in a tree on to a sharp stake of wood, which had had put there himself not moments before. It stopped short of actually piercing him and scraped up the side of his stomach leaving an impressive scar.

Made of rubber and iron, my bro, and luck.
( warmfuzzies Isn't here, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 13:03, Reply)

Catholicism
would also count for the denial. My Ma swears blind she never raised a finger in anger. D'brudrs and I say different. There's no bitterness or anger to the discussion but having your corraborated memories revised is a little odd.
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 13:04, Reply)

It's not the Catholicism
My Mum's descended from the Covenanters and regularly used a big wooden spoon on delicate behinds.

Which she now denies.

I also have some interesting scars on my head (hidden under my fringe) and one of them was caused by my brother pushing me down concrete stairs. He pushed me so that he could win the race to the car.

He's older than me, though, and one day I will prove I never forget. He's going in the nursing home that stinks of pee.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Fri 19 Sep 2008, 16:28, Reply)

My little sister
One day, I noticed how if you blew into the end of a copper pipe, and alternately took a fitting on the end on and off, it would change pitch.
I decided to show this to my sister, who was an impressionable four year old.
"Here, blow in this, and I'll pull the end off. Listen to the sound it makes!"
She dutifully holds the pipe to her mouth, and blows. I try to pull the end off, but it sticks. I then try harder.
The rebound chipped her tooth. I was horrified! But it did make a much different sound at the end, kind of like a four-year-old screaming.
(w4I4q1O1 was hard at work on, Fri 19 Sep 2008, 16:37, Reply)

to help me get over my fear of heights
my sister used to hold me over the edge of the railing at lookouts. So basically over the edge of a cliff.

To accomplish this she'd have to go get me out of the car (I was so scared I wouldn't even get out of the car), pick me up, drag me, kicking and screaming to the edge and then hold the completely paralised misskitty over the edge. Once she gave up and pulled me back I'd lie paralysed on the ground until my dad carried me back to the car.

I've never understood why my parents didn't stop her, if she'd dropped me I would have died.

She did this from as far back as I can remember until I was 16 or so. She's quite a bit bigger than me (though I'm not so small myself at 5'10").
(misskitty reeks of sex and turpentine; laudanum afternoons, Sat 20 Sep 2008, 2:45, Reply)