Mars’ Hill spills the dirt
We’ll let you determine the correct authors.
Text-ual harassment
It was just the other day, when I was studying in the library with my cousin Ruth, that I had one of my most embarrassing moments. She was having a conversation with her older brother when he began to express frustration because she never messaged him anymore.
He went on to say that his cousin (me), always messages him. Ruth, in defense said that I was “just desperate for some male attention”. Jake, being the hilarious person that he is responded by saying that I was “incredibly horny right now.”
I was simply minding my own business, getting some productive studying done, when Ruth showed me the conversation she had with her brother.
Immediately, I pulled out my phone, and texted him saying: “Call me incredibly horny one more time…”
It didn’t take long for me to realize that I did not send that text message to Jake, but to his father Drake, my uncle. After hyperventilating for a few short moments, and causing a scene in the library, I decided that the best possible solution was to send him another text reading, “sorry that was Ruth.”
He didn’t reply, but sure enough, the next day, he confronted Ruth asking her if she is horny.
I hope everyone learns a lesson from this: always check your text messages before you press send.
One more trumpet
When I was eight years old I was in the children’s choir for my church’s Christmas production. During one of our big performances in-between songs I let out a gigantic fart that had been plaguing me the whole time. The noise of it attracted the attention of everyone else in the choir.
Unfortunately there were microphones hanging above the choir, which picked up my flatulence and amplified it for the hundreds of people in attendance in the church auditorium. The choir instructor was so taken aback by my passing of gas that she stood stunned, while the rest of the choir stood awkwardly and the audience laughed, before finally starting the next song.
Let the buckles hit the floor
There was once a time when my love of overalls and my love of the outdoors overlapped. One winter day in kindergarten, after coming in from recess, we had to change out of our snow attire. We all brushed the snow off of ourselves and began to take off our outer shells so that we might learn. I had put on my on my denim overalls before I went to school that day, and little did I know, this decision would have further consequences than mere bad fashion. The problem was that both my pants and my snow pants had over the shoulder suspenders.
So while we all stood around chatting, I unbuckled my snow pants and also, my overalls. Needless to say, the entire class saw my undies. But I held my head high, and cried on the inside.
Nothing but the blood
As a teen I annually attended a Youth Conference in Edmonton. One particular year I was going through somewhat of an emotional time in my life—working through deep issues as many teens do. As anyone else who has been to one of these sorts of events knows, they tend to play on your emotions. After a particularly powerful sermon they set the lighting low and the pastor prays passionately as the keyboardist of the worship team sustains the heck out of some stringy sounding chord progression. All of this is to provide the optimal environment for an emotional breakdown.
During one such prayer time, I was the person who had an emotional breakdown. I was weeping—and I mean weeping—as all the teens and leaders that were sitting around me laid their hands on me and prayed for me. And I mean weeping. It was at the point where the tears and snot were all mixed together all over my face as I held it in my hands periodically trying to wipe it all away to make room for more.
As the pastor said “Amen” and the lights came back on, people backed away from me giving me supportive pats on the back and rubs on the arms. I looked up to give them an “I’m going to be okay” smile, but was met with looks of horror from everyone surrounding me.
A couple friends thought it would be best if we went to the bathroom, and I couldn’t help but notice people’s horrified faces as I made my way through the stands to the nearest exit. When we finally made it there and I looked at my face in the mirror, and instead of my own reflection, I saw 1976’s Carrie instead. My face was covered in blood. Apparently I had gotten a nosebleed mid spiritual encounter and hadn’t noticed. After I had cleaned up, I made my way back to my group, trying not to notice everyone’s nervous glances my way. I think that after that some of my fellow teen Christians thought I was from Satan. I mean, who comes out of a prayer time covered in blood?
Free willy
Back in high school, I went on a marine biology field trip with 10 or so other students. I had recently developed a love for European fashion swim wear, and had brought along a collection of Speedo-style swim trunks—and only Speedo-style swim trunks—to play in the pacific ocean with.
On this particularly fateful day, the students were holding a tandem kayak race, launching from the boat, sprinting 300 meters or so and then sprinting back. Unfortunately, my team did not make the final round.
Not being one to be left out of the action, I dawned my bright red second skin and dove head first into the ocean. The water was freezing, and I instantly lost my breath and began to panic in the water, grabbing onto one classmates kayak paddle while she, unknowing in the heat of competition, began to beat me over my head.
The babely girlfriend of my unusually young biology teacher noticed what was going on and jumped down into the Zodiac tethered to the main boat, and proceeded to drag me into the boat.
Unfortunately, European swimwear is not particularly designed for leg lifts and extensions, and as I, breathless and blue from the frigid waters, threw my right leg into the Zodiac, I incidentally flashed my class mates, teacher, as well as his girlfriend, everything that my fashion-trunks were intended to hold together in a tidy little bundle. I was laying face up for a full minute before I noticed what everyone else already had.
Mathew Braun, Braden Jones, Whitney Shier, Camerone Stuerle & Meray Youssef
Recent Comments