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don't jump!
Apr 14th, 2010 by micah the admin

When I was a teenager, I really wanted to jump off the Orford-Fairlee Bridge into the river, but my mother talked me out of it.  “It’s too high and you could break your neck,” she said.  “Besides, there could be old bridge posts you could land on.”

Shortly thereafter, I was just about to take a walk across the bridge when I saw about a dozen young (and handsome) guys standing on the other side of the rail, about to jump.  Eager to save their lives, I began running as fast as I could,  yelling: “Don’t jump!  Don’t jump!  You could die!”

They politely refrained from jumping until I reached them.  Grinning, one of them asked me why he shouldn’t jump.  I repeated what my mother had said.  Trying valiantly not to laugh, the guys told me they’d already jumped off the bridge several times and it was perfectly safe.  A hot blush flooded my face, but I tried to play it cool.  “Oh, carry on then,” I said.  I was almost out of earshot when they burst into guffaws.

The moral of this story is: Don’t listen to your mother.

Rachel – NH

sixteen year olds can't handle crying
Feb 13th, 2010 by micah the admin

My sister’s friend had spent the night at our house, so her mom came to the door to pick her up. I was never comfortable around this lady, but I was the one who answered the door. So I tried to find some small talk (which I’ve never been that good at). The only topic I could think of was the recent marriage of her other daughter, and that they had a crazy obnoxious time with the photographer. The story sounded like it would be a funny memory. The photographer had basically taken over and had rushed everyone to the next step before they were ready. I said, “So, uh… I heard you had a crazy time at the wedding…” She looked horrified and started bawling in front of me. She didn’t say anything – just stood there and cried. Apparently it was only funny to me. I was only sixteen years old. I was not equipped to handle a crying woman. I stood there awkwardly until my mom came and rescued me by offering kind words to her.

Micah the Admin

the bear hug – my first awkward moment
Feb 9th, 2010 by micah the admin

When I was five years old my family was at church. I had been in Sunday school away from my mom for almost two hours and really missed her. I saw her standing against a wall talking to some other adults, and I did what any child would. I ran to her really fast and bear hugged her legs. Something seemed wrong. I looked up and some other woman was staring and smiling at me. This awkward and scary moment set my life on a course of perpetually causing similar situations. I can not forgive that woman…or maybe I have already.

Micah the Admin

rigor mortis
Feb 6th, 2010 by micah the admin

I was taking a long drive with a few friends. We stopped at a gas station for drinks and bathroom. While we were getting back into the car my friend and I were rough housing. A girl behind us said, “You guys are gonna die!” This girl had just told us the day before that her mother had died through tragic circumstances. My friend replied quickly with an age old joke. “Your mom’s gonna die!” I didn’t see his face. I wish I had. Instead, I tried to top him. I said, “Yeah! She’s already dead, and rigor mortis is setting in!” Immediately I remembered about her mom and saw my friend’s face. He was terrified. I looked away from her as fast as possible, put my headphones on and avoided eye contact with her for the rest of the trip. I felt like a monster, and I still don’t like thinking about it.

David – TN

shouldn't have read out loud…
Jan 20th, 2010 by micah the admin

By this time I had been single for a few years and had a friend that I was very interested in.  My daughters also wanted me to take this friendship to a new level. One day I had this friend over for dinner. After dinner we were enjoying a little small talk. One of my daughters asked me if I knew a phone number of one of her friends. I took out my cell phone and was scrolling down looking for her friend’s name and I came across “mom”.  “Why do I have your mom’s phone number in my cell phone?” I asked. I read the number out loud. When I got to the final digit I realized that the number was the person’s sitting across the table.
Even though they did not admit it, I knew one of my girls had messed with my cell phone.

Rather Not Say – Somewhere

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