The Snowball Fight

My parents and I went to visit my brother, who was working in Yosemite at the time. It was around winter-time, and there was snow, wondrous, glorious, beautiful snow.

My brother and I decided we would have a snowball fight. Of course, he automatically had an advantage over me, because I had little experience with snow, due to snow deprivation from living in places where it rarely snows. He, on the other hand, had lived in many places where it snowed frequently.

While I worked feverishly to form my misshapen snowballs, which weren't really balls at all, my brother was forming his superior snowballs. We soon began the battle. My terrible aim, which has made many a P.E. teacher pity me, or pity themselves for being stuck with an untalented, non-athletic person like me, prevented me from hitting him with many of my mutant snow lumps.

Meanwhile, my brother was making excellent progress. I was hit a few times, and finally one of the snowballs hit me right in the face. My brother stood before me, brushing the snow from my face, while I blindly punched him in the stomach and he said, "I'm trying to help you!"

Needless to say, my brother won the Great Snow War of Yosemite, and the Armed Forces declared me to be 4-F. Today, I prefer to sit in front of the heating vent, drinking Nesquik and reminiscing about my glory days. I then proudly show my guests the medal I was awarded before I was retired from the 76th Battalion of the Iced Forces, which is inscribed, 'In honor of Meowmocha, who survived despite her total incompetence'.

Bottomless Pit

Throughout the time my older brother was growing up, he was always a head taller than the rest of the class, and thin. When he was taken to the doctor for a checkup, the doctor would tell our mother, "He's underweight. You need to feed him more."

My mother replied, "He eats breakfast. He has a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Then he eats lunch, and then a peanut butter sandwich. He eats dinner. How much more can I feed him?"

Milch

My parents were living on a base in Germany when my brother was born. Sometimes they bought American milk, and sometimes they bought German milch, which is processed differently than American milk.

When my brother, then a baby, was given a bottle of milch, he would happily suck it down within a short period of time. When he was given American milk, however, it was another story. He would take a sip, then throw it down as though utterly disappointed by it. After several minutes, he would pick up the bottle again, give it an experimental suck, then throw it down again, disgusted by the inferior liquid. It would often take him well over an hour to finish a bottle of the American milk.

Writing Speed

Sometimes, writing comes quickly and flows well. Other times, a cloud of ADHD floats into the room and hovers over a person's head, making it difficult to make much progress. Below is an example of the writing process during a time of short attention span.

"You've got to be one of the craziest..."

Let's see, what word shall I use to complete the sentence? Hmm, how does my character speak again? What sort of words does he use? Let me just go back and look. Okay, I've decided on a word.
"...blokes..."
Great, my parents are calling me. Better go see what they want. Okay, I'm back now.
"...I've ever seen."
There's that gnat again. Die! (clap, clap) Cool, I got it. Of course, now I have to wash my hands.

How to Tell if You're Not Athletic

Some people are better at sports and other strenuous activities than others. While there are those who can run ten miles and juggle fifty objects at once, others struggle with the simplest of tasks. Here are some ways to tell if you're destined not to be an athlete.