As a teenager, many years ago, my favourite book was Interview With The Vampire by Anne Rice. What can I say? I was very much into the Emo Vampires back then.

My best friend asked to borrow it, as she was curious because of how often I spoke about it. Normally, I didn’t like loaning out books as I’m very particular about them and didn’t like to risk them being damaged, but as I said, this was my best friend, so I agreed and brought the book into school the next day to loan to her.

A few weeks went by and I asked her how she was getting on with the book, what she thought, etc. She told me she’d gotten about halfway through, but her little sister had gotten her hands on it and drawn all over the pages, so she threw it out. She then asked me when I’d buy another copy and if she could finish it when I did.

I told her she should be buying me a new copy. She said it wasn’t her fault her sister had ruined it and she wasn’t going to pay for it.

We aren’t friends anymore.

About thirty years ago, when I was a preschooler, my mom and I went to visit my great-grandparents who lived in a neighborhood in Seattle. It was customary at their house to enter through the back door, so we parked and headed through the backyard.

To my surprise, there was a dog sitting in the yard. I was very excited; my great-grandparents hadn’t had a dog last time we visited.

Me: “Mom, can I pet the dog?!”

But she was already pulling me back around to the front of the house. I was so upset that she wouldn’t even entertain the question of whether we could go see the dog; she was too busy knocking on the front door.

My great-grandfather answered.

Great-Grandfather: *Confused* “Why did you come to the front door?”

My mom ushered me inside and closed the door behind us.

Mom: “There’s a coyote in the backyard!”

No wonder she didn’t let me pet it!

I have mild chronic gastritis. I also have a slight deformation on my hip so I often feel pain in my lower back and hip. The pain I feel from those two conditions can be bad, but thankfully not often. I also have a high pain threshold because of them.

One day in late November, I started feeling discomfort in my stomach but I couldn’t really pinpoint where exactly. I disregarded it as just one of my two issues, so I started taking my usual medicine and kept an eye on my diet. The pain came and went for a full month. I didn’t really think about it since I was busy with a project and I had already bought a concert ticket. Project ended, concert attended, and the pain still lingered.

Finally, on New Year’s Eve, the pain was unbearable, so I told my sister who’s a doctor. She came by and did a quick check.

Sister: “Pack your bag, and I’ll call our parents to take you to the ER.”

It turned out that I had a swollen appendix. It was only hours away from rupturing. I ended up having to watch the New Year’s Eve fireworks through a hospital window, with an IV drip and some stitches on my tummy.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a reminder to never ignore any pain you feel in your body.

Police came and pulled a student out of my class, much to the interest of his classmates. He was informed that he was needed at his home immediately but was given no other information. The cops loaded the boy into the back of the cruiser, while his classmates looked on, and they went to the boy’s house.

When they arrived, this was the scene that greeted him. A group of cops was standing at the gate to the backyard, one with his sidearm drawn and pointing into the backyard. The boy was brought forward and he saw two men sitting in the tree in the backyard with his dog at the base watching them and growing softly.

Apparently, one of the men, actually a teenager, had hopped the fence and broken into the house and then proceeded to help himself to whatever took his fancy. As the burglar started to exit the house, a big white dog came charging out, barking at full volume, charging the teen into the backyard and up the tree. The dog had managed to close his jaws on the rear pocket of the teen’s jeans and turn out the entire panel; his wallet was located in this panel.

The dog heard the cops approaching as they responded to a neighbor reporting the break-in and had slunk back into his ambush spot. The cops saw the teen in the tree and one jumped the fence to arrest him. Out came the dog again, barking at full volume. The officer ended up in the same tree as the teen.

The other officers were trying to decide what to do when, as it’s a small town, one was sent to collect the boy from school. The officer with the drawn sidearm was getting set to “end the situation” when the boy appeared. The boy was asked to control the situation, which he did. He walked into the backyard and called the dog to his side. The dog looked over his shoulder, wagged his tail at seeing his owner, and turned back to continue growling at the men in the tree, all the while scooting backward toward the boy.

When the dog reached the boy, he was sent into the garage where the boy closed the door behind him. He turned to the cops and asked, “What’s the problem?”

The teen was arrested and hauled off and the cops, impressed with the display, actually offered to buy the dog. It seems the dog would let you enter but wouldn’t let you leave.

We’ve elected not to give our eleven-year-old daughter a cell phone because we’d rather not have her join the bandwagon of having her face glued to it every waking hour of the day. With that said, we’ve let her know that her friends are welcome to call the house phone as long as they use proper general phone etiquette. For the most part, all of them have… except one particular girl.

To say this girl is a poster child for phone addicts would be a vast understatement. She rings the house as many as ten times a day, to the point where I have to change the ringtone on the phone after getting tired of hearing it. If my daughter isn’t at home, this girl calls literally every ten or fifteen minutes asking again for her. The calls are never anything important: “I’m at the shoe shop with my mom. Is [Brand A] or [Brand B] better?” “Some girl likes this boy.” “Some girl said this and that at cheerleader practice.”

I’ve tried patiently asking the girl to limit her calls to once a day, but she has blatantly disregarded the request, and she’ll say, “Okay, this is the last call for the day, okay?” and then call later and say, “Just ten seconds! I have to tell her something real quick!”

Our family leaves for two weeks during the Christmas holiday season, and when we return, I discover 227 missed calls on the phone and our voicemail completely full; each and every message is from that little brat. After spending a solid twenty minutes manually deleting them all, I call and inform her that she is permanently banned from calling our house.

Only two hours later, the phone rings with her number, and I am near speechless.

Girl: “Is [Daughter] there?”

Me: “Did you not understand what I said to you earlier?”

Girl: “I know, I know, but this is really important. I promise!”

Me: “What is it?”

Girl: “It’s kind of private… but I promise, it’s an emergency. I really have to talk to her. Two minutes, tops!”

Me: “Last call, understand?”

I hand my daughter the phone long enough for her to say, “Hello?” and then put the phone back to my ear to see what it is.

Girl: “Oh, my God, [Daughter], you are not going to believe this! I was at [place] and spotted [Boy] and [Other Girl] holding hands! I swear on the Holy Bible, I saw it!”

Me: “GOODBYE, [GIRL]!”

I hung up. And, astonishingly enough, it took three more intercepted calls over the following week before she finally got the message. It’s just a shame some parents won’t teach their kids phone etiquette.