I'll share a few at a time, but today, I wanted to specifically focus on one in particular: Noah's. Sweet baby brother, Noah. Also known as Boog, Booger, Shmoog, Hoop, Hooper, and Ellawheeza.
Noah took it upon himself to leave a one-sentence embarrassing story...it is as follows:
"Ruth is my sister."
Oh, Noah. So witty and clever and NOT FUNNY. But, that's okay...since you were short on embarrassing stories, I remembered one that I can totally let you borrow for your submission.
About three years ago, maybe four, Noah came to visit us in the Ham and he decided he wanted to join the tattoo club. It wasn't a spontaneous decision...he had been thinking about it for awhile. He knew exactly what he wanted. Abstract wings on his wrist. His favorite Bible verse is Isaiah 40:31..."But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." It's a great verse. It's uplifting, encouraging...and more fitting for this situation than Noah realized at the time. (Spoiler alert: faint being the key word.)
We go to the tattoo shop, the same one Sara and I had been before getting inked. The guys there are great. Noah sits in the chair and Jacob, the artist, starts prepping. Jacob transfers the temporary tattoo to Noah's wrist to make sure the placement is okay, Noah approves, and Jacob starts up his gun. If you've never gotten a tattoo before, it's a very annoying noise. It's like a miniature jackhammer, but whinier and more tinny. Sara and I are in the room with him, talking to Noah. Sara and I are mainly having the conversation and Noah is joining in here and there. Jacob's working on the first wing.
After a few minutes, Noah's contribution to the conversation becomes more sporadic, aloof, and not at all pertaining to our chosen topic. I look over at him and well, he's pretty gray. His lips are a soft pink. His eyes are kind of glazed over. But he's smiling and nodding his head. Sara asks, "Noah, are you okay?" Noah replies, "Wha-yeah...totally. I'm totally fine. I'm totally...fine. I'm...fine... I'm. Fiiii......." He's still smiling, enjoying the conversation. His head lowers slightly to his chest and he slowly leans to the right...toward the floor. Jacob and Sara catch him and lay him gently on the carpet. I dig through my purse for some candy or chocolate, which I always have nearby. I find a Hershey's Kiss and give it to Sara, then run to the coke machine to get a Mountain Dew. When I come back, Noah is white as a ghost, his eyes are closed, but he's still smiling. Sara and Jacob are asking him questions, trying to get him to respond: "Noah, can you hear me? Noah, wake up! Noah, can you open your eyes. You need to open your eyes." Noah finally does open his eyes. They're all wobbly and can't focus. Sara props his head up and makes him take a sip of Mountain Dew. Thens he force-feeds him the Hershey's goodness. (MY chocolate!) We're still asking him questions. He finally responds, "Guys...calm down. I'm okay. I could hear you the whole time. What's the problem? I'm totally fine!" But it was super slurred and sounded more like this, "GuysclalmdownsahmokayIcanheayouahtheghulltumWhazztheproblmAhmtotllyfun." He starts laughing hysterically. I stop panicking a little. Sara makes him lay back down and keep drinking while she holds his feet up. Good ole Dr. Sara. Finally, Noah starts looking more peach colored and less ash colored. His normal speech returns. He sits up and says he didn't eat a big lunch. Well, NOW you tell us, Noah, sheesh. He adds, "It's hurting more than I thought it would." Yeah, tattoos hurt. Jacob was only halfway done and Noah wasn't leaving until he had it finished. Noah finishes his drink and I fish out the rest of my precious chocolate stash, which he consumes selfishly, and he sits back in the chair to finish his hardcore tat session. His normal color had filled his face and he was back to himself.
Jacob starts the whiny gun again. PTHTTTZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, etc.
Sara and I resume our conversation from before the incident. Noah and Jacob each add in their two cents. About 53 seconds later, Noah's head slumps to his chest again and boom!...down to the floor. We couldn't catch him that time. This go 'round, it took about 3 minutes to revive him. I would have been a little more worried except that that sucker smiled the entire time. His eyes were closed and he was unresponsive and pale as the full moon, but he was apparently happy. Jacob finally asks, "Should we slap him?" When we were just about to do so, Noah wakes up laughing. "You guys...don't slap me. I'm totally fine. Totally. Fine." Same procedure as before. But this time, he had a look of determination plastered on his face, along with the queasy green. Jacob was able to finish the tattoo, while Sara and I stood on each side of Noah, and the finished product was awesome.
So, Noah, next time you want to be "funny funny funny guy" in your comments, remember the fact that neither of your sisters have passed out once during any of their tattoos...much less twice in one session.