Wisdom from Mrs. Hansen

So on a normal day at school I talk a lot. Like a lot. Naturally when you are me and you are talking that much, you are bound to say some stupid things. ( the following is by no means a comprehensive list) 

I had to film myself teaching for a principal evaluation and I was a little nervous about it. Not super nervous because after student teaching I am used to being observed. But I was fairly nervous and just wanted it to go well. I actually told my class that the principal had ask me to film them so she could see how they behaved in class. And they were angels! I should do that more often! Anyway...so I read to them the story of the three little pigs and in this version the wolf ate up the two dumb pigs. It's called natural selection. Anyway maybe that version was a little more traumatic because I had a lot of kids talking about how the pigs didn't get eaten but ran to the brick house. For the purpose of the lesson I wanted the pigs to get eaten and liked my version of the story better. As I was trying to explain that, this pearl of wisdom fell from my lips, "well, different stories are different." Yes, mrs. Hansen, you definitely changed some kids life with that line. 

As soon as I said it I knew what a retard I was and then gave a little better explanation, but i already have video evidence. 

When I had to watch my teaching it was definitely painful for many reasons, but that line was just so embarrassing to me for some reason. Especially when the principal watched it with me and for rewinding purposes we had to listen to me say it at least three times. It was great. 

The other dumb thing I've said lately...that I can remember was when I was just having an off day. It was Thursday   and I don't know what was wrong with me but the whole day was just weird. I couldn't focus or think or anything. It was just weird! Anyway, I was trying to explain that to the kids and tell them I was having a weird day so I told them, "I got my hair done yesterday and I can still smell the chemical on it so maybe I'm just high or something."  Admittedly it's not the worst thing I could have said, but being high is probably not something your fifth grade teacher should be talking about. It didn't really bother me until the kids told me they hoped I wasnt high the next day too. 

And that is just a tiny sampling of the wisdom you can hear from me nearly every day of the week. 

This is the story of an almost iPhone

So once upon a time (this story actually happened back in July) Kolton had surfed behind the boat with his phone in his pocket. It was unknown whether his phone would survive the damage, so he started planning and plotting about the new phone he would get. Since we like to stay up on all the trends and be cool and stuff, he wanted to get himself a fancy little iPhone.

Fast forward to a few days later, Kolton had finally decided to get himself the iPhone even though his old water soaked phone was actually still working. (Don't ask me why, I've never quite understood the workings of that boy's mind) So he headed into town and got himself the phone. Honestly I did not even care what he did, but I did think it was strange that he was getting a new phone when his old one still worked. But I think it had something to do with the fact that the iPhone was on sale at the time and if there's one thing Kolton can't resist, it's a good deal. With his affinity for good deals we have found ourselves with many treasures that we neither wanted or needed until we found out we could get them for cheap and they became necessities. (A certain piano comes to mind...)

Anyway, so he got the phone he wanted. And from the minute he got home from town until the next morning all I heard from him was what a huge mistake he had made and how dumb he was and how he now wanted to return the phone he had had for less than 12 hours. Well lucky for him, he had to work so I was volunteered to drive to Rexburg and return the phone. 

The reasons Kolton wanted to return the phone. 

1. I don't deserve it. 

2. It's going to get dropped/wet/muddy/shattered/filled with hay leaves/ruined out at work. 

3. My old phone works fine. 

Now if you know me at all you will understand why and how much I DESPISE cell phone stores. If you do not, here is a noncomprehensive list. 

1. There is never anyone working there. Two people at most. 

2. The two people that are working there are almost always not super smart. 

3. The two nonbrilliant people that work there only know how to speak in some advanced cell phone technology language that I just do not understand. Their vocabulary includes words like:   fastest 3G network, specialized mybullfrog insurance plan, unlimited data plan, account numbers, etc. I do not know what these words mean. 

4. For some reason, even the simplest transaction seems to take at least an hour. I have never in my life gone in a cell phone store and gotten out of there in under an hour. Never. 

5. The two techie employees are always trying to talk me into things that I do not want to be talked into. And they put on the pressure. And they make me feel dumb. 

6. etc. 

Continuing on...

So now you may understand why Kolton was not exactly my favorite person in the world when HE volunteered ME to return the phone that I told HIM not to buy in the first place and that HE had bought less than 12 hours before. I really just don't know how I got mixed into this equation. 

I still don't know how it happened because I did put up a fight (including sharing with him my noncomprehensive list from above...except he got the comprehensive version) but somehow I found myself walking through the dreaded cell phone store doors.  

And the experience proved to be everything nightmares are made of and was just exactly as unpleasant as I knew it would be.

He owes me big time. 

Believe it or not, returning the phone took three different trips to three different cell phone stores before we finally got everything settled. We did not even OWN the phone as long as it took to RETURN the phone. 

But Kolton did get his old phone hooked up and a severe talking to from his wife about doing dumb things. 

And that's the end of the story.

Storm Riders

Last night at the last minute Kolton and I decided to take my dad's Harley for a spin around town. So we hopped on and away we went. 

 We didn't get too far down the road before we hit a bit of a rainstorm. The wind was blowing like crazy and the rain felt like tacks being thrown at us.

We heard some weather advisories come across the radio and decided to take a quick stop at the gas station to fuel up and see if the storm would pass as quickly as it had come on and we would be able to continue on to town. 

We sat in the gas station for about ten minutes and after some calls to family in Idaho Falls who said the weather was beautiful there, we decided to journey on.

 We hit a little patch of rain on the freeway, but other than that it was smooth sailing. 

We took the scenic route (more scenic than the freeway, anyway) and had ourselves a nice ole time. 

When we got into town we made a stop at our favorite Olive Garden for some chicken and shrimp carbonara, our dish of choice that we always split.

 After that we cruised around town for a little bit. The sun was warm, we had our music going and as we went around the roundabout I had the "we could be in a movie" feeling. 

Because everything was just that perfect.

We made a quick stop in at the mall which ended up being a little longer than we had planned because we were in search of some shoes to go with some church pants Kolton got for Easter. 

Of course we didn't find what we were looking for, because it is my belief that one of the cardinal rules of shopping is that if you are looking for something specific it somehow seems to magically vanish from all shopping venues no matter how many of that specific thing you have seen previously. 

I don't even know if that makes sense, but it happens to me All. The. Time. 

So after our quick stop at the mall ended up being a long-ish stop at the mall, when we finally emerged (with still no luck on the shoe front) we noticed it was getting pretty dark outside. This didn't worry us until we looked in the direction of the way home and noticed big black storm clouds brewing. 

We jumped on that bike and jetted outta there fast. When we pulled onto Sunnyside we had a clearer view of the angry black clouds and an even better view of the huge bolts of lightning that were not that far in the distance. 

I was a bit nervous, to say the least. 

But we just kept going and going and when we made it to the freeway, we were relieved the discover the storm was still a little ways off, and that we had the best seats in the house for a seriously awesome lightning show. 

Maybe not the safest seats in the house being that we were outside straddled on a motorbike, but I did have a pretty good view of the constant lightning and we cruised down the freeway. 

We hit a tiny bit of rain, but not too bad and we were feeling relieved again, until we turned in the direction of Monteview and saw the big storm clouds and even more lightning. 

I kept mentioning to Kolton that we could stop and have our parents pick us up, but we just kept going and I just kept getting texts from my mom warning us about the storm that had been moving in. 

We actually did okay until we hit the Monteview church and found ourselves in the middle of a downpour. The rain was pelting us, the windshield was covered in wet, and I was grateful I was able to at least duck my head and close my eyes. Kolton wasn't so lucky. 

I was so relieved when we finally got close to my parents house and found my dad out there with the shop door open and a big grin on his face as he watched us pull up sopping wet, at least one side of us was drenched, but the other side fared a little better.

Sure enough, by the time we had gotten everything situated and walked out of the shop, the rain had completely stopped. 

Good night, that was sure an adventure we won't be forgetting anytime soon!

The Raspberry Pretzel Jell-o Incident

So lately we have had quite a few family parties. At every family party we have, there is always that pretzel raspberry jell-o stuff. I really love it, so it's definitely more than okay, but every time I eat it, I can't help but have a blast from the past...

 

 

I was in highschool and had just attended a friend's farewell. I was a little intimidated because this friend had many other attractive friends. I had gotten myself all dolled up and was enjoying my lunch outside. The wind was blowing, but it was still a nice little afternoon. I just kept food on my plate and water in my cup and everything stayed where it needed to on the table.

 

Someone sitting a little ways away from me was not so smart.

I'm sitting there eating a very large helping of yummy potatoes when I hear a little yelp down the table, and the next thing I know, a plate comes flapping up and smacks me in the side of the head.

The plate flapped away, but I was left with a hairful of raspberry pretzel jell-o.

 

I sat there for a second in disbelief as everyone else at the party stopped for a second and stared at my hair full of jell-o and whipped cream. Then a few people grabbed me and hurried me off to the bathroom to help me clean up. By this time I was laughing a little uncontrollably. I was just imagining what everyone else saw: a plate flying through the air, hitting me smack on the head, and the look that surely must have been on my face. This picture show in my mind was cracking me up and I couldn't stop laughing. The ladies (complete strangers, by the way) who were picking the jell-o, whipped cream, raspberry, and pretzels, out of my hair kept saying they couldn't believe I was laughing.

I didn't tell them this, but I'm pretty sure laughing was the only thing keeping me from crying at that point.

Eventually I got cleaned up and only had a slight pink tint to my hair so I went back to the party.

 

 

Ever since that incident, every time I eat raspberry pretzel jell-o I can't help but smile to myself and wonder why on earth these kind of things are always happening to me. 

Bloody H-E-Double Hockey Sticks

So the other day we were driving into town to meet up with my parents for dinner, run some errands, go grocery shopping, and other unpleasant such things. (minus the part where we met up with my parents. That was pleasant of course!)

So we are on the freeway about ten or so minutes out of town and I started complaining to Kolton about how badly I needed to blow my nose but there were exactly zero kleenex in my car. I had checked every pocket and nook and cranny but there were none.

I've been recovering from a death cold for the third time already this year. I think it's time to start using hand sanitizer on a regular basis! Those germy kids at school...

 

So I don't want to be completely gross, but for lack of kleenex and being sick of sniffing, I finally reached for a piece of paper on the floor and used that instead.

Gross.

and almost completely ineffective.

 

As if that wasn't bad enough, suddenly I had an unstoppable bloody nose. Yuck! And no kleenexes in sight. So I start ripping the same piece of paper into chunks and put it up to my nose to staunch the flow. Then I lean my seat way back and order Kolton to get off the first exit and to the nearest gas station.

I didn't have to tell him twice. He put the pedal to the medal and got us to a gas station within minutes. Then he jumped out of the car and ran into the men's bathroom and stole me a roll of toilet paper. By this time my nosebleed has mostly stopped and now I have dried blood all over my nose and mouth and cheeks and it was real nasty but also really funny.

And I really don't know why these kind of things always happen to me.

Maybe to remind myself not to take life so seriously...

I dunno. 

To school we go

I have a difficult to explain relationship with school. On one hand I love learning new things (nerd.) and seeing friends and taking notes and having new pens and pencils and notebooks etc. but on the other hand there is always homework involved. Which is not so much my favorite.

With school starting next week (I can't decide if it's a good thing or not) I've been mentally preparing myself for possibly the busiest semester yet. And as it's my last semester I've been remembering my very first semester. I had just moved to BYU in Provo and was a little homesick but mostly loving life. The first day of classes I was a bit nervous and a lot intimidated but I made it through okay until my very last class. It was a psychology class. When I walked into the building and found my classroom I was horrified to discover the class was already full of students and the teacher was up front talking to everyone. So I completely tossed my brains and reason out the window and speed walked into that classroom. I walked right past the teacher lecturing and squeezed me and my bulky backpack past fifteen students and into the middle of the third row. I set my backpack on the floor and took out my pens and notebook ready to soak in everything the teacher was talking about and hoping I hadn't missed too much already.

Then I looked up at the board and saw math problems.

As I had been avoiding a math class like the plague, I knew something was wrong.

So I leaned over to the kid next to me who I had just squeezed past and squished with my backpack and asked him what class this was. He replied that it was indeed a math class and definitely not the psychology class I was looking for.

I panicked for just a second trying to figure out what to do. Obviously I needed to get out of there as soon as possible, look at my schedule again and figure out which room my psychology class was in.

So I stood up, grabbed my backpack, again squeezed past the fifteen students, walked right by the teacher lecturing, and was almost out the door when...

The bell rang.

The current teacher dismissed his math class and my psychology class began to file in the room.

Oh my heavens.

I could have died from embarrassment. Like the spastic freak I am I had forgotten to use some common sense, look at the time, and realize that I was just a few minutes early to my class and the class before mine hadn't finished yet.

The only thing worse than this embarrassment was the fact that the exact same thing happened the first day of the next semester.

I've chilled out a bit since those days, but I still have bad dreams about not going to class or forgetting to copy down my schedule and wandering aimlessly around campus before the start of every semester...including last night.

I'm kind of a freak.

But my plan now is to enjoy the last few days of freedom before putting my nose to the grindstone and doing whatever it takes to make it through the next four months.

Wish me luck!

 

the fourth

Even though the Fourth of July was quite a long time ago I still feel the need to record our activities. For future generations, ya know?

Anyway.

We went back and forth ten million times on what exactly our plans were for the fourth. Kolton was done with hay so that wasn't messing up our plans, but me going to school sure was.

We finally ended up going with Kolton's family on a Razr ride up to Packsaddle Lake.  And we had so much fun!

At the very last minute I packed our swimsuits as a precaution. I thought we'd be doing a lot of Razr riding and very little (if any at all) swimming. But it was so dang dusty that we just stayed at the lake, had a nice little picnic, and swam.

We were so dirty after the ride to the lake. I don't know if you can see it, but our faces were filthy.

The kidlings had a nice time playing in the dirt and freezing water.

                                                   Taven

Lily wasn't loving the water

                                               Madison was!

There was even a rope swing and "diving board" for the big kids to play on.

Teagan on the "diving board"

Kolton was being a bit too brave for my liking.

Tyson

                                                         Ethan

And I stayed in character and was a big ole wanny like usual. I did finally go off the rope swing but it took four minutes of persuasion and crying and wanny-ing before I finally just did it. We have video proof of the whole ordeal unfortunately. My voice gets high pitched and shaky when I'm scared to death. I was begging Kolton to just go before me (even though he'd been four times already) and it finally took Bear standing behind me and letting me know that the only way I was getting off that log was by way of rope swing for me to cowboy up.

I was near tears at this point while trying to convince Kolton to just let me climb down. It doesn't look that scary, but it WAS! for me at least. no one else really seemed to have any trouble with it.

                                         

After that near death experience it was about time to head home. So we packed up and headed out of there getting equally as dirty on the way home.

We even got to see the fireworks. iIm like a little kid when it comes to fireworks and let Kolton know that there was no way I was missing out on the fireworks. So on the way home we were leaving the gas station and saw a little Rexburg show going on so we pulled off to the side of the road and watched for about ten minutes before heading home. I got my firework fix to top off a perfect fourth.

the one time i knew where i was

To preface this story:

I have no sense of direction.

I never know where I am or where to get to where I'm going.

I think it's a result of spending too many driving hours with my nose in a book and not looking out the window figuring out how we got to where we were going.

This problem has caused my parents and myself a lot of frustration over the years. All I have to say is I'm so grateful I always had a cell phone so I could call my parents for directions five million times before I figured out where I was exactly.

On to the story...

So Kolton and I went on a hot date one night a little bit ago.

We had gone in to Idaho Falls and because of a late movie, were heading back kind of late at night during a little snowstorm. (nothing major, but it was snowing pretty decently)

We were headed to Rexburg and because of a road closure, took a little detour. We ended up on an unfamiliar road and we were both trying to figure out where it was taking us. But we figured we would end up in Rexburg eventually (all roads lead to Rexburg, right?).

Then we passed a familiar billboard and it clicked.

"Kolton" I said, "We are headed to Ririe"

He let me know that we were definitely NOT headed to Ririe because
Ririe was that way (he even pointed with his finger in the opposite direction to get his point across).

So I nodded my head because who am I to give directions anyway?

But then we passed another landmark, I call it the green light church, and I again told Kolton, "We are headed to Ririe. This is the road to Ririe."

He again assured me that this was definitely NOT the road to Ririe and that we would see Rexburg soon.

But I was a little less trusting this time because I knew that church, but wondered if maybe this was just a roundabout way to get to Rexburg that I hadn't realized before (see the above mentioned part about the nose in the book)

Soon we are on a little more open stretch of highway and I instantly know.

We are headed to Ririe.

So I tell Kolton so.

Then I point out the cemetery where my great-grandma Johnson is buried, I show him where you can turn off the road and get to my Uncle Ron's house, I expound a little more on the green light church.

("No, seriously Kolton. That was the green light church. I know it is. It has a green light in the steeple and I remember it. There's not that many green light churches around ya know...")

But Kolton just keeps driving and assures me that we will soon see the lights of Rexburg.

So we keep driving and sure enough we do NOT see the lights of Rexburg, but instead see the sign

"Welcome to Ririe"

I cannot put into words my triumph at seeing this sign. I maybe gloated a little to Kolton because I knew where we were when he did not.

When Kolton admitted my rightness and his wrongness, we were able to move on with our journey and try to figure out how the heck we were going to get to Rexburg from here.

It didn't help that most of the road signs had been blasted with the earlier snow+wind combination and were now plastered with snow and therefore, unreadable.

So we follow a little sign that we can barely read that says "Rigby" with a nice little arrow.

Soon we are on a skinny little road, and it's snowing, and we don't know where the heck we are. 

(I'm no help at this point. There are no green light churches in the vicinity)

But we keep driving and driving and driving and when I take a sip of my water bottle Kolton gives me a warning look and says "You might want to save that..." (I got a kick out of that one. Still do every time I think of it, actually)

I think both of us were a titch nervous about this little road we were on, but we just kept driving because we didn't really know what else to do at this point.

I'll tell you what, I have never been so happy to see Rigby Automotive than I was at the moment we passed it and soon thereafter saw the rest of Rigby. And with that, we were found and Kolton successfully got us back to Rexburg.

I'm going to live on this incident for the rest of my life.  

The Humiliation Chronicles: Why I don't do nice things

So a couple in our ward that we are friends with recently had a baby.

We decided to take them dinner one night.

We decided to take them dinner one freezy, rainy, icy night.

So I whipped up a little sumin-sumin and we got ready to head across the sidewalk to their apartment.

As we were walking out the door, Kolton was given the two plates of food and I decided real quick to stick some brownies on another plate.

After a period of indecision, I decided to put the brownies on a not-so-nice plate just in case.

(Can you see where this is going?)

So we head out the door, down the stairs, and we are halfway across the sidewalk when Kolton says,

"Hey, be careful, it's pretty sli-"

but it was too late.

His sentence was punctuated by the sound of me crashing/landing on the sidewalk  ice rink.

I didn't even have time to react, I just smacked that layer of ice like my life depended on it.

The plate broke.

And not just a-few-chunks broke,

The completely-shattered-miniscule-pieces-of-glass kind of broke.

I would know.

I picked some of those miniscule pieces of glass out of my hand after the shock wore off.

The brownies-my favorite kind of brownies-were now sitting in that pile of glass

So I'm just chillin there on the sidewalk on my hands and knees seconds after the smack and the shatter, Trying to catch my breath with Kolton trying to attend to me when the friends pull into our complex (the wife had gone to pick up the husband from work)

So I slowly get up, mumble a breathless "I'm okay" to Kolton and walk towards our friends who are just getting out of the car. The husband asks me if I'm alright and Kolton explains what happened (I'm still trying to catch my breath. but mostly trying not to cry) and about how the brownies are now just chillin on the sidewalk, plateless.

The guy says, "Oh that's okay, it's just ice!" runs over to the brownies and take a big bite out of one. (This would have cracked me up if I hadn't been focusing so hard on trying not to lose it right there on their doorstep).

Just to defend myself here, I'm not really one to cry at an injury (knock on wood) but it was the someone-just-smacked-you-straight-on-the-nose-and-your-eyes-are-watering-and-you-can't-do-anything-about-it kind of cry.

So we chatted for a second on the doorstep, but all I really wanted to do was go home, inspect my throbbing knee, release a few of those tears, and restore some of my pride that had shattered along with the plate.

Sweet Kolton cleaned up the glass/brownie mess while I  did the afore-mentioned things. My knee had already started to swell and was forming into a dark bruised lump.

The next day I went to kneel next to a second grader's desk and let out an audible gasp when I knelt on the wrong knee. Ouch!

Honestly, this incident happened about three weeks ago and if I happen to put too much weight on my knee it's still a little tender.

And that is why I don't do nice things.

he thinks he's sneaky

Since the new year our church time has switched from 9:30 to 1.

It was such a bummer.

When the bishop announced the new time from the pulpit there were audible groans from the audience (congregation?).

But that's not the point of this story.

The point of this story is that we have ample (and I mean ample) time on Sunday mornings. I mean, we could study our scriptures for a good three hours or prepare our Sunday School lesson (ahem...not that we ever wait til the last minute....) but no matter what we do, we still have ample (and I mean ample) time to dink around on Sunday mornings.

Enter: last Sunday

Kolton was in a goofy mood that morning as we slowly ate our breakfast and studied our scriptures for two hours (not). So finally I decided it was time to get a move on and hopped in the shower. I was just showerin away, probably shampooing or rinsing and repeating

(Every time I think of rinsing and repeating I remember that Lizzie Mcguire episode when they asked Ethan Croft his secret for great hair and he said, "You know how the shampoo bottle says rinse and repeat? I don't repeat." That was a nice blast from the past!)

Anyway, so I'm rinsing and repeating, probably singing, when I feel a little whoosh of cold air. I usually get irritated when I feel a whoosh of cold air when showering because it usually means Kolton has opened the door to the bathroom and turned on the fan, which I also hate.

So I feel the little whoosh, but hear no fan turn on. I wait a second and then peek around the shower curtain. I don't see anything, and then I peek around a little farther and see Kolton standing on the toilet peering over the shower curtain with a cup of cold water in his hand.

In the millisecond it took me to process this scene I was able to quickly jump out of the way as Kolton poured the cup of cold water into the shower. In his hurry to still salvage the element of surprise, his accuracy suffered and I only got a few drops of the cold water on me. 

But was this good enough for Kolton?

No siree!

He yells "HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS IN HERE!" and quickly starts refilling his cup in the sink.

As he resumes his position standing on the toilet, I start swatting at the cup in his hand. 

My hand connects with the wet, slippery, full of water, glass cup in his hand, Kolton drops the cup, spilling water all down the front of himself, and the cup shatters when it hits the tile. 

I said something to him along the lines of 

"Smooth move x-lax, good luck cleaning up that mess."

and resumed my shower. 

I got in trouble.

The other day.

Because for the first time ever in his entire life, Kolton clicked onto my blog.

I don't know what inspired him to do it, I've had this baby for over a year, people occasionally comment on it-in person, I mean, and some special friends of ours even like to quote me when we get together (Yes Zach, I mean you.)

But dear Kolton had never really shown an interest until the other night. We were sitting around doing our own thing on our own internets when I glanced over and saw a familiar little screen.

And then I got kind of embarrassed. I've been able to share some stories because I know that they can be my own and no one will be able to correct me when I skew a few details (not that I ever do that...) and I can write (and exaggerate) pretty much whatever I want.

But I got over my embarrassment, there's no room for embarrassment in a marriage.

And I snuggled up to Kolton and together we read some of the "little journal of our life together".

And you know what?

I got a few chuckles, and even a couple hearty laughs from him. But then I may have gotten in a little bit of trouble for sharing "Our story" he said that it was too embarrassing to share, but I said that's tough luck partner because my favorite kind of stories to share are the embarrassing ones.

My proudest moment of the entire conversation was when Kolton acknowledged that maybe my blogging wasn't a complete waste of time. That maybe it was a good thing to keep track of where we've been and where we're headed.

So I guess I'll keep at it!

the humiliation chronicles: playground safety

So up here at BYU-I, we like to do a lot of group projects.

Let me rephrase that...the administration  likes for us to do a lot of group projects. But that's a rant for another day.

Anyway....so yesterday I got together with my groupies. We had an assignment to make a movie about playground safety. So we headed over to our local Porter Park and got started.

We demonstrated the right and wrong ways to use the swings, monkey bars, and the slides.

You know all those things that were illegal during recess that pretty much made it so you didn't have fun at recess?

That kind of stuff.

I had volunteered to demonstrate the right and wrong way to go down the slide.

And just so you know, it was awfully rainy/snowy/windy/typical Rexburg weather yesterday.

I brought a towel and mopped up the slide before I sat down on it.

Then proceeded to go down headfirst, on my stomach.

I got to the end of the slide and tried to situate around to get my legs underneath me so I could hop off the slide, but something went horribly wrong.

I don't really think those slides were made for college-age girls or even anyone that has even a semblance of hips.

I was wiggling around trying not to get stuck in the slide and I just wiggled right off!

But it wasn't as graceful as that makes it sound.

Somehow I crashed headfirst into that nasty bark crap that all playgrounds have nowadays.

My legs were flailing out behind me, I was yelping as I went down, and there was an audible 'thud' once I hit the ground.

The worst part?

They got it all on film.

My groupies were all chuckling kind of awkwardly as I lay laughing on the ground.

I don't even know these people! I didn't know how to react, and they sure as heck didn't know how to react.

Oh my...

It was one of the most embarrassing moments I've had in a while. And we got to replay in in slow motion-several times, I might add.

So moral of the story.

There's a reason they don't let you slide down headfirst!