Life of Ant

Hello, my names Ant. Funny I know. Except that joke gets less funny the more times you hear it. Over the last 14 years of my 'life' I have heard countless jokes about the adorable name my parents gave me and yes, I know that its a boys name. Fortunately I will never put my children through the pain of having a stupid name as I will call them something normal, like fly.
Anyway, this is a book of embarrassing moments of my life that (for some reason I am still trying to figure out) everyone else in this world seems to find utterly hilarious. Brilliant.


2. Why we don't go to church

Firstly I would like to point out that I am not a particularly religious person. My Nana dragging me into church every easter sunday taught me that

a) church is a good excuse that old people use for peace and quiet and

b) donkeys have no control over their digestive system...

However I still found myself in church on this lovely rainy Sunday morning when I could have been at home, at home... thinking of other imaginative names for my children.

You know those nice hand crocheted (yes I did have to look that word up on google thank you very much) cushions that you are allowed to kneel on when you are deeply reflecting in a moment of prayer (or trying to find the back of your blackberry that has just dropped down there). My sister decided that during one of these moments she would make the effort to lower herself down onto one of these cushions only to find that actually it was much more comfortable to just sit instead. This was no ordinary prayer however, it was split into sections and at the end of these sections the congregation would answer the prayer-reader with the same sentence. So each time the prayer-listeners replied to the prayer-reader my sister did a strange mexican wave kind of movement, a bit like a false start to a race, in order to try to sit back on the seat.

After all this excersise she was clearly in pain and so decided to stay on the floor instead, only to let out the most enormous fart ever. It stank. I actually felt the need for a gas mask. Innocent little Skye (yes, my sister's name was thought of by my parents as well) sat on the floor of the church grinning guitily.

As though she hadn't caused enough damage already, she started sniggering. The wierd 'flappy-seal-no-noise' snigger was ok, it was when she got onto the 'full-on-gaffawing' kind of addictive laughing and half of the praying people had joined in (with the laughing - not farting) that I decided that maybe christianity was not for my family. The vicar gave me (why me?) a very evil glare, maybe the devil had possesed him or something.

The hymn (yes, I had to look up that word too) book dropped onto Skye's head and she began flicking through the pages. It wasn't long before she errupted with laughter again. She had found a hymn that went like this:

Ho, ho, ho, ho, hosanna,

Ha, ha, ha, ha, hallelujah

He, he, he, he, he loves me etc.

Skye decided to sing this (loudly) and completely disturb all the old people's Sunday morning. Of course this was not her fault, no, it turns out it was mine. I know this because after the service and old woman came up to me and said

"How old is she?"

"6 and a half." I replied. She smiled at Skye before saying

"You should have more control over her." and frowning at me. I assumed that God had decided to punish me for not concentrating in his service by using an old lady to tell me off. Finally after my parents had gone back for more free (well what do they expect, donations probably are welcome but that doesn't mean anyone has to give you them does it?) tea and coffee we decided to leave. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Can we go back next week?" asked Skye

"No." I snapped and started to walk home.

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