noraleah:

mandalay writes:

I CONSTANTLY hurt myself on McDonald’s 1980s Soviet-era probably razor-filled filthy not-made-for-children playground equipment, in particular Mr. Hamburger here, who’s true name escapes me. (Do you remember?) The little ladder you had to climb up might as well have been covered in oil, that’s how little traction it had. […]

Nora, I am guessing you have similar stories, my similarly situated friend? I feel the pain on your butt bruise….

First off, he’s Officer Big Mac, heroic foil to the Hamburglarr’s notorious beef-stealing plots.

And second, man, do you have me pegged.  I fell off every single piece of playground equipment I ever laid a foot on, give or take one or two.  Fractured my wrist falling off a slide.  Sprained my elbow (I think) falling off a 10-foot-high merry-go-round-like-thing in Monterrey that I’m sure is long gone because of contemporary child coddling safety codes.  Nearly knocked myself out falling backwards off a swing after a particularly enthusiastic pump.

We spent hours in the waiting rooms of “Doc in a Boxes” up and down the California coast.  It was a running joke: we’re on vacation.  What’s Nora going to break this time?

My dad once said of me: “When you live life with all four limbs, one of them is bound to get hurt.”  I’ll take it.

(Image via erinoface:itsallinmyhead:theabstract:via.)

One time was playing in this very “thing/cage”  and you can climb to the top inside the hat and, I dunno stay there i guess,  so one time i did that and there was a hole in the top and you could see out.  It was kinda cool.  So, this one day I’m up there looking out and watching my father and grandpa start looking for me.  Turns out they started freaking out cause they couldn’t find me and I was watching them the whole time.

yeah, i got in trouble…