Today's blog post doesn't have a theme whatsoever. I've taken a couple pictures that I've been meaning to put on here that have absolutely nothing to do with each other....hence the name of today's post.
So in honor of randomness I've decided to share with you a crazy random experience I've had. One of my best friends likes to refer to my type of story telling as "bowie stories". Bowie is actually a nickname I got in college, if you ask nicely I'll tell you why later, (no I am not a fan of David Bowie and yes that is where the name comes from....specifically the movie Labyrinth).
Anyway, my storytelling is a little different then everyone else's. They generally are pretty short and have absolutely no point whatsoever. The problem is they sound really long in my head and then when I go to tell it, it ends up being like not even two minutes long....I don't know how that happens. It just does.
Here is a picture of me thinking about which story to tell you...................still thinking. Also, my bowie stories almost always start with the statement, "so this one time....." if you finish that thought off with "at band camp" we can no longer be friends/acquaintances/total strangers.
Ok I've got one. So this one time, when my family and I were living in Chicago, we lived in this neighborhood that had a dead end at the end of our road. At the end of it was a big red and white sign like this:
Well one day my brother Daniel and I were bored so we decided to take some color pencils and color outside. Somehow we ended up at the dead end sign and it was Daniel's bright idea to color on it. At first I was a little hesitant because I was pretty sure that was considered vandalism. I was only ten at the time but considered myself a model citizen. However, Daniel seemed to be having a pretty good time so I eventually picked up my pencils and proceeded to color dinosaurs (I was really good at them) and unicorns all over the place. Later on back at the homestead, I couldn't stop worrying about what we had done. Would one of the neighbors report us? Would we have to confess to a judge of our artwork done on govt property? I remember before going to sleep that night praying with all my might that it would snow (it was the end of July) and that color pencil marks would no longer be waterproof.
The next day, I was going about my business when our doorbell rang. Just me and my older siblings were home so I answered it. I opened the door and to my up-most horror there was a policeman standing on the doorstop. My heart began to pound, I could already feel the confession rolling around on my tongue. This was it, I was going to jail. He asked if my parents were home, I shook my head. Then he pulled out a flyer and asked me to give it to them. I expected it to be a wanted poster with my face on it. Then he thanked me and left. I stared dumbfounded at his retreating figure. Wasn't he at least going to tell on me? I looked at the flier, turns out he was just passing out information about policemen coming to schools to do a presentation on stranger awareness. I had done it, I had gotten away with defacing public property....and would never do it again. The end.
That ladies and gentlemen is a genuine example of a bowie story, however because I typed it I had time to think about it and use big words, if I had told it vocally it probably would not have been so interesting.
In closing, here is a picture of one of the cutest babies in the world. He's such a good baby and I'm one of his favorite people, or so I like to think.