The Proper Way To Egg A House And Rude Supermarket Starers

This morning after  waking up, we discovered that some delinquent  somewhere decided to egg our house. If that could even be considered an egging…

So, I’m here to explain to you all how to properly egg a house. Now, I do have to applaud these so-called “house eggers” because they managed to escape without being noticed. They did however get the wrong date to egg our house. If you’re going for the traditional egging, the proper date ( actually the date expected to egg houses) would be October the 31st.  Another thing you did wrong, dear egger, was the fact that you threw only one freaking egg! I will actually go out to buy you a dozen eggs and invite you  to egg my house, if only you learn how to properly egg a house!!! I’ll even throw in a can or two of shaving cream for your next delinquent ventures! Do you know how pathetic it looks to clean one measly egg off a house?!

So, the next time, dear house egger, you decide to go on some delinquent adventure, DO IT RIGHT!

After silently fuming about the lame pranksters/delinquents we have now a days, I went out to a not so local supermarket. Throughout the whole trip my sister decided she’d hold on to the shopping cart while I steered it.  Nothing wrong with that, right? Well, the only thing she didn’t think about was the fact that she did not have nearly the same mass as the shopping cart. Walking through the supermarket we narrowly missed hitting people, tipped  a few trash cans located throughout the store, and “played” bumper cars with the items for sale.

Just as we were about to leave, I swiped her arm off the cart and said, maybe a bit too loudly ” Get your hand off the cart, it’s annoying!”

After that, I was met with the angry stare of a person advertising his product. I was already fed up enough with everything that I just looked at him with my own angry stare and walked right out of the store. And you know what Supermarket Starer? I’m never buying anything from you!!! Keep your stares to yourself!

After, eighteen days, I have returned. Turns out, maybe I was a bit optimistic about my schedule as I approach midterm season, trying to start up a blog, writing a piece for a McGill newspaper, and reading every-fucking-thing-about-everything for my classes. I thought about commenting on this post because it’s kind of a silly one– my twelve-year-old self trying and failing at sarcasm. I think I need some positivity in my life today because at 4pm I was already in bed, napping and watching sad videos so that I would cry. It’s really not as depressing as it sounds… It’s just, girls know. When you’re like on the 2nd to 3rd day of your period, your whackjob uterus makes you tear-up at those click-bait posts on Facebook and then you’re like fuck it I might as well get a good cry out of my system and then watch some horrible videos about the dolphin coves or something. And on top of that you’re exhausted from literally losing blood all day…. And if you’re me you’re exhausted because your boyfriend worked until 11pm on Valentine’s and kept you up until 4am.

Looking back at the story, I remember how indignant I felt. I saw the first egg on the side of our house and got riled up, shaking my head, thinking about what my parents would have to say about this, coming up with perpetrators in my head, and looking around at the disarray. Except, there was no disarray. I was confused. My memory fails me about where the actual egg had landed, but I believe I cleaned up the goop with a napkin while still surveying the confusing crime scene. Did they only have one egg left? Could they only sneak out with one egg without their mom noticing? (My neighbourhood was lousy with children while I was growing up– 10 plus households full in a closely-knit townhouse neighbourhood.)

As for the second part of the story, I’m not surprised. I was an angry kid. My sister and I were in constant battle until I moved out of our shared room and we grew up a little. I remember days where I would argue about simple things with my parents, like taking my vitamins or going to bed on-time, where I would end up screaming at the top of my lungs to win them over. I would scream until I was red in the face. That type of scream takes over your body and fills you with rage– your body shakes and tightens, your vocal chords reveal an unused pitch, blood rushes to your head. They rarely gave in, but man it felt good. My sister and I got into many physical altercations, and so did my parents and I for that matter. I have bitten my sister, choked her, and I can’t remember what else. She was actually older than me, and always taller/heavier, but she was also a bully. I didn’t understand at the time, but she was constantly antagonizing me, and I couldn’t figure out why she would treat me like that without my parents being able to do something about it. I would always get into trouble for hurting her, thus the  physical altercations with my parents, “the belt”, “the spoon”, and general spankings/slaps, etc. At the time, there was a tremendous amount of financial stress on my parents. My mom had the only job, working at 7Eleven (a convenience store), they had debt, and my dad was an irresponsible spender. At one point, they would take $500 that I had meticulously saved out of my bank account without telling me. Having kids in that situation would explain many behavioural problems. I had anger issues. Later, my sister would reveal to me that she was also a bully to kids at school. There came a point where the cycle of anger in our family ended, and I think that came after the time my dad hit me and then chased me up the stairs with a broom. But, that’s a story for another time.

See you soon,

 

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