Family Stories Both Funny & Terrible

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Another Kerry story… she and my brother are actually quite the family comedians.

When she was four, our little puppy died right before Easter. Then my grandmother died unexpectedly. Kerry was sad, but she was mostly disturbed by how sad the rest of us were. I don’t think she had a good grasp of what death was at that time. She tried everything to make us smile. Nothing really seemed to work.

My parents took us to confession, since it was almost Easter and us older ones needed to go. (Okay, stop reading here if you can’t stand to hear stories of little children gone wild in sacred space.) My parents were both in a fog, as my grandmother had been sick a long time but her death was still somewhat unexpected. They were both extremely sad in their grief, and it was somewhat frightening to see how truly devastated they were by losing my mother’s mother.

The line for confession was easily two hours long. There were only two priests and the line snaked all over the Church. Kerry began to get REALLY restless. My mom told me to take her to get a drink and walk around the gathering space. Kerry is, to this day, a giggly girl. She has these giggling fits where she almost pees her pants and can’t stop laughing. She had one of those at the water fountain, and I could see her energy ramping up. I reminded her we were in Church and she needed to be a good girl. This only made her giggle more.

As we were walking back into the Church and I was holding her hand, Kerry broke away and ran giggling down the center aisle of the Church. Being eleven, I was slightly mortified. I looked around for my mom, and not seeing her, I ran after her. Kerry ran in the other direction. She was racing all over the Church. I saw my dad finally and he had a look of pure shock on his face. He kept waving me after her. During the time I was looking at Dad, Kerry disappeared. I should mention that recently Kerry had found my old New Kid on the Block tapes and become a big fan, even though it was a couple years past their prime. Anyway, as I was trying to figure out where Kerry could have gone, my mom came down the aisle and was like, Where is she?

Well, Kerry suddenly appeared on the altar, draped in an altar boy vestment that wasn’t on properly. She came down on the steps and proceeded to start belting out, “HANGIN’ TOUGHHHHHH! ARE YOU TOUGHHHHHHHHHHHHH ENOUGH!!!” Then she went into dance moves that were slightly remiscient of NKOTB.

I heard my mother’s sharp intake of breath, and we both sort of stood there for a moment. The entire Church was completely and totally laughing. My mother marched down the aisle and yanked Kerry by the arm and dragged her back behind the altar and “de-robed” her.

I walked back to where my dad was standing, with my other siblings, all of whom were trying not to laugh, but my dad was looking mortified. My mother appeared with Kerry on her hip and Kerry’s thumb was popped into her mouth like nothing had happened.

One of the priests came out a few minutes later and made their way to my family, while everyone was looking on (of course) and SHOOK MY DAD’s HAND. (Dad was on the pastoral council at this time, so they knew each other well.) Anyway, the priest was like, somebody just came in and said that little Kerry _______ was out here performing! If she made this whole line of parishoners laugh, she must be quite the ham! Maybe we should put that talent to good use!

Anyway, a few weeks later, all of us kids joined the youth choir, with Kerry as the youngest member.
 
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vluvski:
The breathing next to my bed turns to hysterical, evil laughter as a mop of hair flies up. This was the end, he was going to kill me right then. I screamed bloody murder out of pure terror, and started sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. My little brother used to play jokes like that on me all the time, and I thought it would be funny.”

What a cruel joke for a mother to play on her four or five year old!
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Eeek! I’m surprised that her “reward” wasn’t some wet sheets! :eek:
 
Here’s another one…One of my sister’s had a slumber party for her 14th birthday, knowing my brother (who was 17 at the time) was a sound sleeper sneaked in (with the help of our 18 year old brother) and painted his finger nails bright red.:rotfl: He had to be to work at the gas station (Jersey is one of the only ones with Full Service only) did not see the polish!!! All day long he had to put up with strange looks. Needless to say my other brother and sister were punished. When I heard about this (I was already married) I cracked up. This brother even today is so pompous that if you knew him you would laugh too at Mr. Uptight:nerd:
 
This thread is HILARIOUS! I’m wiping tears from laughing so hard! :rotfl:

So here’s a couple:

When I was a little girl, I just LOVED my daddy and I apparently wanted to be with him all the time. Well one day I was desperately looking for him and not finding him anywhere, I asked Mom. She told me he was in the bathroom. So I went running to the bathroom, and before Mom could stop me, I opened the door.

I stopped, pondering what daddy was doing. He was not sitting on the seat as I did, but standing facing the toiler. As Mom caught me and tried to remove me, I calmly looked at Dad and commented,

“Gee, how handy!”

My Dad never let me forget this story!

My Dad was also the catalyist of more misbehavior on my part. One day he was charged with bringing my brother and I to Church. I don’t remember why, but my brother wasn’t home that morning and he was an alter boy so I didn’t see him before Mass.

I informed my Dad that morning that I was going to dress myself. I thought I understood the process of picking out somethign nice but warm because it was winter. So I put on my favorite dress. Unfortunately it had buttons in the rear, and since I had insisted on dressing myself, I knew I could not have Dad butten me up. So I put the dress on backwards, pulled on some leggings of some sort and some sweat pants or something over that.

I think I was going for a “disco” look. The last thing was a pair of large winter boots. I had dress shoes to wear but I never saw the sense in wearing them so I took the opportunity of poor Dad’s innocence in this matter and I wore what I wanted to wear.

I think my Mom almost died when she saw me show up for Mass in a backwards dress (buttoned incorrectly), loudly-colored leggings and large boots! I think the rest of the parish got a real hoot as I proudly announced that I had dressed myself!

I was not allowed to dress myself for a very long time. 😛
 
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JCPhoenix:
Awww… Did I just kill the thread?
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No, no, no… lemme see I can write another one… (I liked your backwards dress story 🙂 )

I have a cousin that was in her mom’s arms (she was about 2) on the way to Communion. Everything was quiet and all of a sudden she blurted in a tattle-tale voice “My mom drinks” to the person behind them in line, for the Church to hear (we think she meant in Communion). Needless to say, my aunt, who rarely drinks alcohol, was mortified :bigyikes: .

My mom was taking care of that same cousin when she was little while her parents were away. They were at a check out line at the supermarket, my cousin sitting in the cart. When my mom was getting ready to pay, my cuz pointed at my mom and told the cashier in her tattle-tale voice “She’s not my mom”. My mom was so embarrassed :eek: , she had to explain she was her aunt, etc.
 
Well, I have a story from today.

After spending time together, my husband and I decided to head over to my parents’ house to see one of my sisters and my little neice, who is spending the night. As it happened, a new young priest was visiting for dinner who happens to know one of my other sisters pretty well.

Ella, who is around 21 months old, was quite taken with Father. She kept telling him how “pretty” he is, which would make him visibly blush. (Meaning she would go sit next to him and say “pretttttttttttttttttty” in a low, contemplative voice, lol.)

Anyway, my sister Bridget is quite um, rambunctious and always riles Ella up whenever she’s over. She and Ella were playing “taco” (where Bridget wraps Ella up in her plush kiddie couch and carries her around the first floor). This is something my brother used to play with Ella before he left for Iraq, and so it reminded Ella of another game my brother would play with her: The “ewwwwwwwwwww!” game.

Father was sitting on my parents’ sofa, talking to my husband and I about a movie he saw last week, when Ella comes over and pulls herself up next to him. He looks down at her and she leans in, um…around his armpit, sniffs, and says “EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” in a very loud almost-two-year-old voice.

Bridget and my husband and I all died laughing, and this poor priest was like, “oh my Lord, I hope I remembered to put on deordorant today!” which only made us laugh harder.

I finally was able to tell him that this is a game my brother taught her for when he came home all nice and stinky from training in the field, and now she does it to all of us when she is reminded of him and wants to play.He was so relieved! 🙂
 
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lifeisbeautiful:
No, no, no… lemme see I can write another one… (I liked your backwards dress story 🙂 )

I have a cousin that was in her mom’s arms (she was about 2) on the way to Communion. Everything was quiet and all of a sudden she blurted in a tattle-tale voice “My mom drinks” to the person behind them in line, for the Church to hear (we think she meant in Communion). Needless to say, my aunt, who rarely drinks alcohol, was mortified :bigyikes: .

My mom was taking care of that same cousin when she was little while her parents were away. They were at a check out line at the supermarket, my cousin sitting in the cart. When my mom was getting ready to pay, my cuz pointed at my mom and told the cashier in her tattle-tale voice “She’s not my mom”. My mom was so embarrassed :eek: , she had to explain she was her aunt, etc.
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THis reminds me of the countless stories we all have when a child starts screaming “Don’t beat me mommy, please!” when you’re carrying an uncooperative child out of some event or another–and who possibly has never even been spanked in their life! 🙂
 
I just thought of another.

I have no idea who these people are but it was really funny!

I was a teenager and we were sitting in the balcony at the rear of our church during Mass. There was a little one playing the “throw the toy, someone picks it up and hands it back, throw the toy again” game.

Durring the presentation of the gifts, the little one threw the stuffed animal right over the balcony! :eek:

Well, when the usher arrived to collect from those of us in the balcony seating, he was carrying the stuffed animal which had landed directly in his basket! 😛
 
When I was in Berkeley, I had a picture of my six brothers on my desk. It had been taken when they were elk hunting… the one in the center is proudly showing the impressive rack from the elk he got that year, with the other brothers posing on either side of him. They all had a few days’ beard on, sort of looking hunting-camp scruffy, and I think every one had either a hunting knife or a pistol on his belt.

One of my fellow graduate students, from China, asked me about the picture. I explained that they were my brothers, and we had a chat about what each on did in the way of work, and so on. Wow, six brothers, he said, quite a family. (To have so many sons is almost an embarrassment of riches in China.) Then my friend asked where the picture was taken. Well, I replied, I wasn’t exactly sure… somewhere in Eastern Oregon, where they had been elk hunting. Hunting? He asked incredulously. Do you mean to say those are real guns and knives? Well, sure… you kind of need that to kill an elk.* Your family* goes out with guns and knives like that and hunts things… and with the pistols, too? Well, sure. Oh my! I thought that was some photographer thing.

You’d think he’d found out that my brothers were working for Al Capone! Personal gun ownership is unknown in China, and he thought that only the criminals in the US had the guns. He had no idea that he would ever meet someone who actually had used a gun. When he found out that I had shot a gun and that my mother used to shoot rabbits raiding her garden, he was flabberghasted. It was kind of sad, of course, because his idea of gun owners had been so skewed, but it was a crack-up to see the look on his face. My brothers got a charge from it when they heard his reaction, too.

On a similar note… once when we were on vacation, my mom and my aunt took all the kids to Dairy Queen…my aunt had 10 kids, including two sets of boy/boy twins close in age, around the ages of my brothers. I think another cousin or two had been included on the trip. The cashier asked my sister if we were a church group! My sister laughed and said, well, in a manner of speaking…
My mom and aunt got a charge out of that one, too.
 
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Princess_Abby:
THis reminds me of the countless stories we all have when a child starts screaming “Don’t beat me mommy, please!” when you’re carrying an uncooperative child out of some event or another–and who possibly has never even been spanked in their life! 🙂
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Yeah, I apparently pulled that one on my mom when I was two, in front of a packed congregation at our parish. (Side note- I was maybe spanked a half-dozen times in my life, and each time Dad was assigned to the task. Mom couldn’t stomach it.)

I was in the car with my mom today, and we were joking about “grannie drivers”, which brought to mind an oft-told story about my uncle from approx. 30 years ago. My uncle was on a two-lane road, stuck behind a “grannie driver”, or an elderly woman who could barely see over the steering wheel and who was driving about 5 mph under the speed limit. He was in a hurry, there was a long line of cars building up behind him, and so he started yelling, swearing, honking his horn, and making rude gestures at the driver (my uncle was a bit ill-mannered when younger). Finally, after several miles of this, a passing lane opened up. He cranked the wheel, hit the gas, turned to yell at the driver one last time through his window, and instead yelled, “Oh my God, it’s Ma!” Yes, he had been honking and cursing at his own mother. I don’t think Grandma ever let him live that one down.
 
When I was a kid, my cousins had a big female boxer dog named Rusty. Rusty just loved everybody. One summer my cousins went away on vacation and left the dog with us. Rusty was out in the back yard one day when I was leaving to go somewhere. As I opened the gate, the dog dashed past me and took off down the street. I ran after her, calling her name, but the dog wouldn’t obey. She got to the next block and, before I could catch up with her, ran up the front stairs of a house where the door was standing wide open–no screen door–and trotted right into the house. I stood there for a few seconds waiting for the dog to come running out, as I thought she’d do. But she didn’t. So I summoned my courage (I had no idea who lived there)and was about to go ring the door bell, and ask “Did you happen to see a large brown dog in your house?” when a man came to the door, dragging Rusty out by the collar. He looked rather angry. I don’t remember if any words were exchanged, but I took Rusty in hand and got her home.

Another Rusty story: back in B.C. (Before the Council) the Archdiocese of Chicago was taking some kind of census. I don’t recall what it was all about, but it seemed to involve sending nuns around to people’s houses. So a pair of nuns (they always traveled in pairs) in full habit came to my cousins’ house and were sitting on the sofa in the parlor when my youngest cousin Dickie brought Rusty in from a walk. Rusty came galloping through the house, and with a great bound, landed on the laps of the nuns, who screamed, thinking they were being attacked by a vicious dog. But Rusty just wanted to lick their faces. Because Rusty loved everybody.
 
When my wife was pregant with our youngest son. She had sent the oldest son outside to play, being it was such a nice day. She opened the window in the the front room to let in some fresh air and heard the oldest singing, " My moms fatter than your mom. my moms fatter then yours".

Cracked us all up.
 
Oh Dear Lord…I have tears in my eyes… :rotfl:

I have one…well OK more than one, but will start with this. A few years ago we got a Snowshoe Siamese kitten from a friend. Meet ‘Tweety’ : http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b55/PrarFLEsEkHm/Tweetie.jpg

Well when we got him he was about the size of his head now. Just a tiny ball of fur with those luminescent eyes. he was so tiny he would actually curl up on the toe of my boots [while i was wearing them] and fall asleep. Well - we also, at that time, had a full-grown Siberian husky named Thor [we lost him before I got a pic of Him] Just a moose. Well Thor thought that tweety was cute too, and wanted to play with him. Now, Tweety was barely the size of Thors nose, and cats being cats, well Thors overtures were viewed with something less than enthusiasm… One day Thor was nosing around Tweets, looking to play - Tweety climbed up the arm of the couch [cuteness in itself, watching something small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, determinedly climb up Everest] made it to the top, walked out to the end of the arm and waited. Well Thor being Thor he obligingly stuck his nose there to investigate what the furry little critter was doing…SLAP right on the schnoz with ears back and that look that only a Siamese can give, Tweety sat right down there and stared at that monster right in front of him as if to say “Wanna 'nother one? or didja get the idea?” Thor - for his part backed up a little, and looked kinda like HUH? Did you just do what I think you just did? and came in again! , right up till that paw went up again anyway…then he decided maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after all.

By the way - thor and Tweety got along fine after that…it was the other cats that suffered his attentions…One of which I just remembered as being probably the funniest thing i ever witnessed in my life…but I’ll save that one for tomorrow
 
Y’all, I’m dying here :whacky: These are great!

I’ve only got a few funny/terrible stories. What can I say, I’m an only child and newly married, so no little ones yet to entertain us LoL
  1. When I was a sophomore in HS, I had a beautiful black cat who liked to sleep in the clothes dryer. The night before school, I went down and threw some clothes in the OPEN dryer, not checking for Rowan, even though I knew she liked to hide there. ::sigh:: There was a thump (I thought it was a pair of sneakers or heavy jeans or something…) I didn’t find her until the next morning, at 5:30, when I (in my sleep-clogged stupor) reached in without looking and felt my baby’s stiff, furry body. Then I screamed bloody murder, scared the **** out of my parents, and from then on was dubbed a MURDERER by my classmates.
  2. Recently - My cousin Catriona has a 4 year old daughter named Fawn. Apparently Fawn was really sick with a yeast infection and the doctor prescribed, er, suppositories. After her momma gave her her first dosage, Fawn said (completely and utterly deadpan and serious) “I’ve been vi-o-lated”
 
Well, I wasn’t terribly popular growing up, so when I got invited to a sleepover in middle school, it was kind of a big deal. These girls were pretty cruel most of the time, so I was really watching my step, trying not to say anything too intelligent that would spark their ridicule.

Everything went fine until I woke up in the morning and realized I had had diarhea during the night… in a borrowed sleeping bag.

Thankfully, I am an early riser and no one was awake to see. I contemplated two options, and I honestly can’t remember which I picked. I either rolled up the sleeping bag without telling anyone, or blamed it on the cat, which incidentally was in my sleeping bag licking up the poo when I woke up. Eeew! Actually I really think I rolled it up. :o The girl who owned the sleeping bag probably deserved it anyway.

How gross is that?
 
Earlier this year, my fiance and I visited my future SIL to be present for our godson’s baptism. Getting ready for Mass was quite a fiasco, and someone decided to fix a quick pizza (eaten in time to meet the fast) since we hadn’t had breakfast. The 6 year old saw the pizza, and even though he had eaten something else, threw a fit until they let him eat it. Everyone was so busy that he wasn’t supervised, and he got pizza sauce all over himself.

I was the only one to see him, so I grabbed a wet rag on the way out to clean him up a little on the way. I left him with the rag, then ran back in for a diaper bag or something. As I was getting belted in, I couldn’t find the rag. I asked around the car, and SIL thought they threw it up front and it was in a bag. “Oh, good,” I said, “he did a good job himself; I just didn’t want anyone to get up and realize they were sitting on it and have a wet spot on their rear for Mass.”

Well, when we got to Mass, it became quite obvious that the rag WAS’T in the bag. I had been sitting on it myself the whole time.

We walked into Mass, running late, just as the procession was starting. They wanted the family and godparents to process up and stand up front for a blessing. So I had to stand there, front and center, backside facing the congregation, looking like I had wet myself.
 
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SeekerJen:
Yes, he had been honking and cursing at his own mother. I don’t think Grandma ever let him live that one down.
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These stories are killing me, but this one especially! Ah, guilt… the gift that keeps on giving!! 😃
 
My parents used some kind of fool-proof program to potty train me (I am the first). Basically what I gather is that they rushed me to the bathroom every 10 or 15 minutes for an entire weekend, ripped my pants off, and made me sit on the toilet.

Somehow, I got the idea that the bathroom always had to be a huge rush, and you had to be ready when you got there. So we were out to eat, I had to go, and I hopped out of my chair and made a bee-line for the bathroom straight through the restauraunt, pulling down my tights and panties to my ankles on my way.

Fortunately for the rest of the restaurant guests, the tights around my ankles bought just enough time for Mom or Dad to catch up with me and whisk me into the bathroom before causing an even bigger scene.
 
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