Saturday, April 23, 2011

Are We Lost?

This was the other truth I was going to post in my Lies and Propaganda post from all the way back when, but I had forgotten about it until later. Ah, well, at least it gets to star in its own post!

When I was six, my relatives on my mom's side who lived in Florida came over to visit. They will from now until the end of this post be called Nanima (my grandma--a.k.a. my mom's mom), Nanaba (my grandpa--my mom's dad), Mamoo (my uncle--my mom's brother), Mami (my aunt--Mamoo's wife), Aunty (my mom's sister), Annoying Cousin Sister (Aunty's daughter), and Adorable Cousin Brother (Annoying Cousin Sister's brother). Annoying Cousin Sister definitely isn't annoying anymore, but back when she was four, she was a brat and a pain in the butt. Adorable Cousin Brother is still cute, but he doesn't talk to me or my sister anymore, preferring instead to play his video games.

One day, the whole family decided to go to the Indian stores. Annoying Cousin Sister wanted to sit next to me, so I begged to sit in the front, since I'd be able to avoid her. Two people can't sit in the front seat, after all, right? (Of course, I failed to note that, to sit in the front, a person had to be over twice my age, but who cares?)
(The people in the back of the van were left out for easier drawing.)
In retrospect, I'm surprised that no police officer at least warned us about the illegality of seating two children far younger than 12 in the front seat.

Throughout the ride to the stores, I was miserable. Annoying Cousin Sister annoyed me very much, but she loved to stay with me for some reason, which made me more annoyed, so, even though she was very much delighted at the prospect of still sitting next to me, she still irritated me. Needless to say, I was glad when we had reached the Indian stores and were able to get out of the cars, and I made sure that I would be in the car instead of the van when we were ready to go back home.

What happened in the Indian stores is of no importance to this story, so I'll just skip over that. You can imagine what you'd like. Maybe we just went shopping, or maybe we got attacked by ninja polar bears with nukes. YOU WILL NEVER KNOW. >:-D

Mamoo drove the car, and I got to sit in the front again while Mami, Nanima and Nanaba stayed in the back. I was enjoying the peace and quiet of the car when Mamoo suddenly said, "We're lost, Sana. Do you know how to get home from here?"

Now, Mamoo was the type of uncle who always joked around. Whenever I visited Florida, for instance, he would always tell me that Best Friend (my best friend back then, obviously) had mysteriously turned into a boy.
I never did quite know how to disprove Mamoo's silly idea that Best Friend had turned into a boy, so I just stammered something incoherently.

So, I didn't believe Mamoo when he said we were lost, since I thought it was just another joke. He was smiling, too! Anyone who was really lost would be panicking, but the worry was not visible on Mamoo's face. But I decided to play along anyway and show Mamoo that I knew how to get to my house like a big girl.

We were fairly close to my house, anyway, so getting there was an easy task. "Just go go across the Bridge [the Bridge is capitalized because it was the only bridge that I knew of in my city that went over a freeway]. Keep going straight. Okay, now turn left. Keep going straight again, and now turn right! Keep going straight...and there's my house!"

Mamoo thanked me and we all got out of the car. The rest of the family was already at home, looking concerned for some reason.

(Actually, the way I drew my mom's hair is probably more like how my hair really is now, but it's too much effort drawing my hair like that all the time. Besides, it doesn't really matter for this story, since my hair as a child was way straighter than it is now.)

Thursday, April 21, 2011

The Execution of a Water Balloon (or two or three)

Once again, I have failed to update my blog in so long! *insert huge and lengthy apologies here* I have a bit of time on my hands, so here's a post for you guys! 

A few weeks ago, my sister was trying to blow up balloons and asked me to help. I used to be able to blow a balloon last year, but for some reason, I just couldn't do it! I didn't puff my cheeks and I tried to blow into it like I would play a licorice stick because to play a licorice stick, you cannot puff your cheeks. It didn't work, despite all the air we blew and all the times we stretched them. Stupid balloons just don't cooperate. I'd like to think that we got the "mean kind," but of course, that's an immature. Balloons can't be mean! The ones we got, though, defied that rule, obviously. Or it could possibly be because I didn't blow them quite right...oh, balderdash! Nonsense, I say!
So my sister decided that we should make water balloons. I agreed because making a water balloon was easy enough...or so I thought. 

My sister first attempted to fill the balloon up with water while I watched. Water splashed out of the balloon more often than stayed in, so I came and helped my sister with the formation of the water balloon.
(Yes, I know the perspective is REALLY off, but...look at the toilet! It looks awesome, doesn't it?)
(The blue stuff on the floor are bathroom mats.)
(BTW, I've exaggerated the height difference between me and my sister. She's only an inch shorter than me...)
The plan was brilliant, the execution poor. Right after I turned on the faucet, the force of the water pushed the balloon off the faucet and into the sink, letting no water inside the balloon but plenty of water over it. 

But we did not let this setback stop us in our valiant quest for water balloons. I cleverly noticed that if I held the balloon onto the faucet (if that makes sense), then the balloon probably would not fall off. Once again, the plan was brilliant, but its execution was poor. Water spattered out of the balloon into the air and onto our faces.

So we tried yet again, this time with me holding the water balloon tightly onto the faucet with both hands and my sister turning the faucet on. No water splattered out, and my sister tied the balloon closed.  

We had created a water balloon! We smiled proudly at our creation.
[Look, ma! Hand(s)! Real, actual hand(s)!]

With a heavy heart, I brought the scissors from the kitchen. My sister sliced the balloon open right under the knot, but didn't manage to slice it all the way through, so, instead of flattening quickly, the balloon died slowly. And the death was beautiful.

 My sister and I were amazed at the fountain that we had "created" by destroying our balloon. We found this sufficiently entertaining, so we created another water balloon to destroy with the scissors. I wonder if rats raised to be dissected feel like they're just being born to be destroyed by those who raised them and then picked apart at the hands of staring and giggling fourteen-year-olds...not that I'd ever want dissecting to be banned or anything. No! Of course not. 

Am I a horrible person for actually liking to dissect rats? 

Anyway, we took an orange balloon this time, filled it up with water, and cut it, but we cut it at a different place than we did the other balloon, so the water shot straight up rather than in a graceful arc. 
Executing these balloons had actually been super entertaining. Were we monsters for enjoying these deaths of innocents so much? Maybe, but that mattered not. What mattered was that it was FUN!
Before you all start freaking out on me, let me assure you that I have never even been in the possession of scissors while in the same room as a balloon since that day. Never!

But you never know. When I get the chance, I just may go and execute empty water balloons of their water...creatively!