Two for One
Story One:

I was 13 at the time, and I was entering the 'rebellious' stage. Except I wasn't so much 'rebellious' as I was 'fucking bored out of my skull and needed things to do'.

We had a school trip to Skegness. Nothing too fancy, just had to interview people, count pedestrians and do a survey about how tall buildings were. It was... boring, to say the least. In my tiny little mind, I started to think "ooh, what can I do to make this trip more exciting?"

So I was... 'slow/special', for the rest of the day.

Judge me all you like, but I found it funny (at the time) to interview random pedestrians about their day whilst speaking with a varied amount of hesitation. "So why.. why are you.. gngehh... what is your purpose to.. to.. today. Heh heh. Gneh!"

Needless to say, the amount of worried looks that translated into "I really want to go, but can't offend this poor chap" I got were priceless.

Story Two:

I was in primary school, so I would have been 9 or 10. During this time, I went to school in Cyprus. Brilliant! School trips ended up being just us going to the beach, or to the pool, or to the brilliant town centre, where we'd always ended up going for Pizza Hut or McDonalds. But not this one time. For some reasn, the schoolboard decided it'd be fun to take seventy 9-year old kids to... the sewage factory.

Lovely.

"And this is the tank where we filter out the all the pubic hair that come through the sewers!"

*a group of kids staring blankly, not knowing what pubic hair is*

I decided to liven things up, as I knew it would be a boring day, to take a clothespeg and put it on my nose. Oh, 9-year old Friz! You are utterly hilarious! Except the crabby teacher I had at the time didn't think this. So, as I was being an 'annoyance', I had to stand by her throughout the entire trip.

This is one of the reasons I hate sewers. That and the horrid stench.
( __, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 18:05, Reply)