“Before Ceremony I was driving around the bay area a lot, visiting different cities and towns: skating as much as possible. One day me and some friends from Walnut Creek were in Piedmont and some dude was harassing us while we were skating this spot near Piedmont’s central area. He had a long board and he was skating by every few minutes yelling shit at us, calling us ‘fags’ or whatever. This guy was probably twice my age and big, big muscles, high school quarterback type. He had his little brother with him, and finally after two instances of him yelling at us, we yelled back and he came over to repeat what he was saying, only two feet away. My friend Peter threw a large fountain soda in his face and punched him just below his left eye lid, and I will never forget seeing his face immediately after the punch - a tiny slit start to pour blood. The dude tackled Peter and I came up behind the guy and booted his head, which caused him to fall to the side: calling for help to his little brother. After the boot, I threw a glass bottle at his head, but it didn’t break, it just bounced off and he ran away. Then I wrote Throwing Bricks.”—Ross Farrar of Ceremony
When I was really young, I went to day care because my parents worked a lot. One time I was playing with blocks, and some kid came up to me and told me that he was going to play with them, but I was still playing with them. I told him to fuck off, and he didn’t, so to keep him from playing with them, I started shitting and wiping my shit on the blocks.
Edit: I didn’t literally tell the kid “Fuck off”, but I told him that I didn’t want him to play with them because I wasn’t done yet
I played football when I was in middle school, and my first year, they asked what number I wanted, so I told them “69”.
When I brought my jersey home, everyone in my house was freaking out, and I didn’t know why. I showed my brother, and he said “Dude, that rules, but do you even get it?” I thought it was because “69” sounded like “Sex Tonight”. When I told my brother, all he had to say was “Dude. No. You’re fucking retarded”
One time in 4th grade, I brought my house phone to school and pretended it was a cell phone. I got called out, and to dispose of the evidence, I threw it out the window on the bus ride home. My parents still don’t know what happened to the cordless phone we had.