Tyler pointed out to me yesterday that I’ve done bodily harm to him every day this week. Behold.

  1. On Monday we went to go see some fireworks in Spanish Fork. We went in three different cars, and none of us knew where any of the others were. Eventually (despite contradictory directions) Tyler and I found Russ and Christie and Harry Caray together. We had walked for a ways looking for a good spot to watch from, when Moriah called, claiming to be in prime fireworks-watching position, so our combined group was going to rendezvous with her. We all crammed into Russ’s car because it was closer, and Tyler was stuck laying across three people in the back seat. Russ dropped Tyler and me at my car. I thought it would be funny if Tyler climbed out of the car head-first. He didn’t think it’d be funny or convenient, so I tried to pull him out of the car, and he pulled back and hit his head on door frame.
  2. The next day we were at Walmart buying white gas (Wait for it….) and there was this display with a ton of frisbees at the front of the store. I picked one up tried to throw it to Tyler, but the truth is that I throw like a girl (no offense to those girl readers who are more athletic than me), and so I gave it one of those throws that curves complete and goes 90-degrees from where it was aimed. I figured that I’d just grab another frisbee and try again, but I’m not much better. I might not be skillful, but I am persistent (or stubborn?), so I grabbed another frisbee, but by this time Tyler had given up and already started to walk away. As I ran after him my stubbornness turned to mischief, and went on the opposite side of the isle-divider from him, hoping to hit him with the frisbee when he turned the corner. He, of course, foresaw my plan, and was ready for me when he turned the corner, thinking that he would simply catch the frisbee and foil my plan. Just as he appeared and I was about to launch my attack, two girls came out from a side isle and blocked my path. Instead of letting that ruin the moment, however, I stood cocked and ready to fire, waiting for the girls to clear the way. Tyler must have thought it ridiculous, because it only made him more prepared to catch the frisbee. By the time my shot was clear, my tension must have mounted to a degree such that the power with which I threw my projectile compensated for my inaccuracy. I hit Tyler right in the eye from about 8 feet away.
  3. After our party last night we convinced Tyler to show off his fire-dancing skills. He had two of the torch-knives that they use, and he was dancing with one while I was soaking the other in the white gas (that we’d bought at Walmart the day before). My job was to spin off the excess gas from the stick that I was soaking. After it had soaked up the gas, I swung the thing repeatedly (because I can’t spin it fast enough to get anything off of it) until it didn’t look like any more gas was spraying off of it. Then I lit it and (after burning my hand trying to light the other end) gave it to Tyler. On his first spin it sprayed burning fuel in a diagonal line from his right shoulder down to his left knee. It took a second or two before he noticed that he was on fire so he could drop the sticks and put himself out.
  4. That night at the ritual late night Beto’s run (which Carlos should have paid for), I stepped on his already-hurt toe.

He gave me the credit that at least the last one wasn’t my fault.