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80's-90's MEMORIES


poop stache

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I never did that. I had more of a twisted way of playing with my action figures. I think I've talked about this in another thread, but I wanted gore so I created my own. Being the active kid, I had plenty of cuts and scabs. Scabs were the best because of the pool of blood, cuts you had to squeeze to get a good enough amount for a good wound. So I'd create elaborate stories that lasted weeks and always create ultra violent scenarios. Then I'd pick the scab and push the action figures face into the pool of blood so it would cover them. I'd also use it on body parts for the gunshot or sword slash effects.

 

The fucked up part of all this is I wouldn't wash them. I'd go back to play with them the next day and the blood would be dried, so to me it represented an open wound --which was somehow "cool" to my 8 year old self. You probably don't see this with kids so much in the A.I.D.S nation we've become.

 

Eventually my mother caught me picking scabs and pushing Roadblock's face into the open wound and asked me, "What the hell are you doing?" After that it was water color markers that rubbed off too easily. I still did it though. I was just more aware of my mother.

 

So I'm sure I'm alone in that "memory," but I'm sure I'm NOT alone in making forts for my action figures with kleenex boxes, cereal boxes, holes in the back yard, twigs, leaves, rocks, etc. That was my shit on many a "You can't leave the yard, you're grounded!" days.

 

 

I also never called them "action figures." I called them "guys." It was always "I'm going to go play with my guys" or "I want this guy for my birthday." I never once said "I'm going to play with my action figures" or "I want that action figure for my birthday."

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I never did that. I had more of a twisted way of playing with my action figures. I think I've talked about this in another thread, but I wanted gore so I created my own. Being the active kid, I had plenty of cuts and scabs. Scabs were the best because of the pool of blood, cuts you had to squeeze to get a good enough amount for a good wound. So I'd create elaborate stories that lasted weeks and always create ultra violent scenarios. Then I'd pick the scab and push the action figures face into the pool of blood so it would cover them. I'd also use it on body parts for the gunshot or sword slash effects.

 

The fucked up part of all this is I wouldn't wash them. I'd go back to play with them the next day and the blood would be dried, so to me it represented an open wound --which was somehow "cool" to my 8 year old self. You probably don't see this with kids so much in the A.I.D.S nation we've become.

 

Eventually my mother caught me picking scabs and pushing Roadblock's face into the open wound and asked me, "What the hell are you doing?" After that it was water color markers that rubbed off too easily. I still did it though. I was just more aware of my mother.

 

So I'm sure I'm alone in that "memory," but I'm sure I'm NOT alone in making forts for my action figures with kleenex boxes, cereal boxes, holes in the back yard, twigs, leaves, rocks, etc. That was my shit on many a "You can't leave the yard, you're grounded!" days.

 

 

I also never called them "action figures." I called them "guys." It was always "I'm going to go play with my guys" or "I want this guy for my birthday." I never once said "I'm going to play with my action figures" or "I want that action figure for my birthday."

 

:lol: :lol: :lol: That was some imagination, i used to walk around with a BB gun and shoot all the stray cats, birds, squirrels etc...but i never played with my toys in real blood...that's classic!

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:lol: :lol: :lol: That was some imagination, i used to walk around with a BB gun and shoot all the stray cats, birds, squirrels etc...but i never played with my toys in real blood...that's classic!

 

My parents called me on my birthday and I cursed them for spitting me out on Valentine's day. Mainly because it's cold and the holiday is a fucking bullshit holiday. So I asked why they couldn't have waited and my father yelled "Waited! You kidding? We didn't expect you. You were the result of two bottles of wine, which is why I think you are the way you are!"

 

I'm sure when he said that the memory of me smiling up at him with an open wound and a GI.Joe guy, that looked like it took a point blank .45 bullet to the head, was driving the sentiment he was offering.

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My parents called me on my birthday and I cursed them for spitting me out on Valentine's day. Mainly because it's cold and the holiday is a fucking bullshit holiday. So I asked why they couldn't have waited and my father yelled "Waited! You kidding? We didn't expect you. You were the result of two bottles of wine, which is why I think you are the way you are!"

 

I'm sure when he said that the memory of me smiling up at him with an open wound and a GI.Joe guy, that looked like it took a point blank .45 bullet to the head, was driving the sentiment he was offering.

 

A little more than i anticipated, let's leave that convo behind and get back to the happy memories...

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A little more than i anticipated, let's leave that convo behind and get back to the happy memories...

 

 

That was a happy memory. I thought it was hilarious. My parents were trying to have a kid for 6 years, but it didn't work. The fact that it probably happened with wine makes it even better.

 

But that's really a 70's memory I guess. 74' to be exact.

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That was a happy memory. I thought it was hilarious. My parents were trying to have a kid for 6 years, but it didn't work. The fact that it probably happened with wine makes it even better.

 

But that's really a 70's memory I guess. 74' to be exact.

 

 

That is DEF a happy memory for your parents, sorry about that- hope i didn't strike a nerve.

I would say the wine (alcohol) made it alot more fun, but who wants to hear that about their parents...lol

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