Now, I've done a lot of crazy things in my life, but one takes the cake. If you know me well enough you've probably heard this story, so bear with me. If you haven't heard this before all I have to say is don't judge me. I was just a kid.

I take you back to a simpler time. The 1980's to be exact. The time of the dinosaurs, according to some. I was only about six or seven years old. I was in my room watching The Monkees on Nickoledeon. Yes, I was one of those spoiled kids that had a tv in their room. Thinking back to what happened after that episode makes me think it's not such a great idea. The episode was all about the Monkees visiting a circus. This immediately caught my attention because I was at that time fascinated by the circus. I sat intently and watched all the crazy mishaps. In one scene they visited a fire eater. From here on out, it all goes downhill....

I sat there amazed as I watched the performer. Something clicked inside of me. "This is what I was born to do!" Now, I'm usually not a person that goes against my instinct, but i really wish I had this time. It seems my conscience was nowhere to be found on this faithful day.

I immediately began plotting how to make my dream come true. I realized of course that I couldn't start out with fire. I would have to take baby steps, work my way up to the grand finale. I scanned my room for something useful. There it was right in the middle of the blue shag carpet in all its glittery green glory, my baton! So I geared myself up for the beginnings of my destiny. I practiced for a little bit, but then the novelty began to wear off. I needed something new and exciting. Another glance of my room led me to just the right thing. My Fisher-price roller skates were just laying there, begging to be used.

Now from here I really begin to doubt my logic and think that I really should have been better supervised as a child. I don't know what I was thinking, so don't even bother asking. I must have been too busy thinking how much of a success a roller skating fire eater would be. For some reason I did not fasten the skates to my feet. I decided to merely balance on them. This as you can probably imagine is was a disaster. I lost my balance and thudded to the floor. The noise must have been horrible. My dad came tearing into the room and turned the whitest shade of pale possible. I will spare you the gross details, but lets just say it wasn't pretty. The only upside was all the ice cream I could eat for the next two weeks while my throat healed and I regained my voice. My parentsreferred to it as the quietest two weeks of our lives.

After that faithful day I've never been able to look at batons, roller skates or the Monkees the same way again.