Gather round kiddies, it's story time.
I just had a spontaneous memory of a funny thing that happened to me some years ago.
I am very crafty and swift. By this I mean I can make things. All kinds of things. I'm artistic and whatnot. Anyhoo, I volunteered to make a pinata. (I don't know how to make the squiggly line show up over the "n")
I got all the materials, started with a big balloon, made a paper mache parrot and made gazillions of "feathers" out of crepe paper. I glued all these strips of crepe paper feathers all over this bird. I had filled it up with great candy and stuff. It came out fantastic. I WISH I had a picture of it to post.
When I got to the event, I was excited for everyone to see this great pinata I made. I was happy showing it around, happy getting the reactions, happy seeing it strung up, and then suddenly very unhappy at the thought of everyone whacking my creation with a big stick until it was busted and ruined. It had not occurred to me before that moment that I would feel sad watching the destruction of a really cool thing I worked so hard on.
I thought I was going to cry. Fo' real though. I was hating it. They were blind folding people, letting them take whacks at it, and I was suffering as if they were hitting ME with the stick.
Pretty soon the sadness was replaced with laughter, because they couldn't seem to break this pinata. Grown men were hitting this poor bird with every bit of force they could muster, and not a speck of candy was dropping.
This was my first pinata, and I guess I glued the hell out of it, cause that sucker was a bitch to break. These men were bashing on it like they'd caught it raping their mother. It was ridiculous. It got really funny before they had any success in breaking it. Finally, it broke and the candy prizes scattered.
All in all, a funny night, with a couple of "oh shit" moments.