One of my very favorite things to do is sit around with my friends and tell stories. Sometimes I even let them tell some too! ; ) Anyone that has ever been my friend or spent time with me knows that I have a story for everything.
So many crazy, weird, funny, scary things have happened to me in my life and I feel it is my duty to share these experiences...with anyone and everyone that will listen. : ) I have decided to tell some of my stories on here. I am hoping not to incriminate too many people....maybe I'll change names to protect the (not) innocent. I don't really have a plan...just write 'em as they come to me. ENJOY! (PS - If you have some stories you want to share about me, or about yourself...please send them my way and I'll post them.)
My first story is about this one time I peed my pants.
This used to be my brother's favorite story to tell about me. He would tell this story to every guy that came within 10 feet of me. He loved to embarrass me. Kirk isn't a superstitious person, but as the year's went by and each guy that he told the story too ended up not working out...he stopped telling the story. He now refuses to tell it even when I ask him too. So here goes...
I grew up mostly with boys. I had my brother Kirk, my cousins Bronson, Bryn, and Rusty, and then all their friends. Poor Heather and I were the only girls so we ended up playing army more than we played Barbies. In the summer when we didn't have school, we stayed with my Grammy (my dad's mom....aka Absorbine Jr. Queen), while our parent's were at work. Anyway, one summer day, Kirk, Bronson, and Bryn and I were at my Grammy's house playing cops and robbers. I was the oldest, at the ripe old age of 12, followed by Bronson..age 11, Kirk...age 9, Bryn....age 7. My Grammy had a gazebo and a playhouse in her back yard and that is where we spend most of our time. During this particularly rousing game of cops and robbers, complete with fake guns and real handcuffs, I was the robber. They had me cornered. The only place I could run was the playhouse. I knew it was a bad move and that I would get caught, but in my mind I thought, well...if they are going to arrest me anyway...they might as well have to climb to get to me! Here we all are....up 10 or so feet in the air in our playhouse. Of course, the gazebo was the jailhouse and was located on the opposite side of the yard, so they had to transport the prisoner ( a prisoner that had to pee). Bronson knew I was wily and slick, so he cuffed me to himself so I wouldn't be able to run. It took us longer than it should have to realize that we weren't going to be able to climb out of the playhouse while we were handcuffed to each other. However, we had left the keys to the handcuffs in the gazebo and Kirk and Bryn refused to leave the playhouse to get them for us. I begged them, telling them that I had to pee so bad and that Bronson and I couldn't get down without their help. They just laughed and laughed. So, Bronson and I devised a plan. I would go first and start climbing down the ladder with my cuffed armed raised up and he would hold his arm over the side. Once, I got down far enough and had a good grip, he could swing himself down and all would be well. I start climbing down and Bronson has his cuffed arm hanging over the edge. Kirk and Bryn are watching with smug looks on their faces. I started to make some progress when my feet lost their grip........and I fell. Many things happened all at once. 1)Bronson's cuffed wrist is the only thing keeping me from falling to the ground. 2) My whole body weight is on his poor little wrist. 3) Bronson starts screaming like a girl from all the pain. 4) I look up at his horrified, pain ridden face and I start laughing hysterically. 5) Hanging from Bronson's poor little wrist....I start peeing. The pee is just flowin'. It's running down my leg and into the grass. I can't stop laughing. The more Bronson screams....the harder I laugh and the more I pee. Kirk and Bryn are having a field day with this. Finally, Bronson can't take it anymore and he jumps 10 feet off the top of the ladder and we both thud onto the ground...and into my pee. He is SO mad. He is still screaming and now he's crying. I am still laughing. My Grammy hears the commotion and comes outside. Kirk and Bryn quickly catch her up on the situation. I get yelled at because I am the oldest and am supposed to know how to act. Instead of being a good example, I am a hysterical laugher and a pants pee-er. The laughing stops when my Grammy refuses to let me into the house. Instead, she takes me, still in my pee pants, into the front yard which is located on a main and busy road in Buckhannon and commences to hose me down. My friends are driving by. People are gawking. It's horrible. After being hosed down I am now allowed into the basement where I am given my grandmother's clothes to wear for the rest of the day. No one wanted to play with me after all that craziness, so I sat in my Grammy's clothes and sulked until my mom came to get me. When told the story, my mom only says, "Kaaaaaatieeeeee" in that "i'm dissappointed in you" voice.
One year later. I'm 13. I'm sitting on the bus with my first kinda bus-boyfriend. The older kids got to sit in the back. So I am in the back of the bus. My brother, who is 3 years younger, climbed under all the seats just to get back to where I was so he could tell Billy (who was 2 years older than me...15! whoa!) that just last year I peed my pants. He tells Billy all the sordid details of my pants peeing fiasco. After that day, Kirk told every guy that story. Luckily, Kirk can no longer hold the pee pants story over me...I tell it proudly. If peein' your pants is cool...then consider me Miles Davis! It's been 17 years since that fateful day. I'm 29 now. But I can't promise if put in the same situation that I wouldn't do it again.
Ms. Katie Pee Pants