Monday, April 18, 2011 put the record straight...

Hey, it's me. You know, the criminal. Yep. The person on you've seen on the wanted posters. And on America's most wanted. that's me. Or so my mom would have you believe from her blog post describing me as a " knife-wielding delinquent minor" . If you really, really have to, you can read the whole dramatic story on her blog.

But I am here to set the record straight. Here, my friends, is the real story...

MY story begins a little over a year ago. At my AWANA group. At completing certain sections in our books, (*NOTE* the books include reading the bible and memorizing bible verses-you know, God's word, right?- and writing down deep spiritual thoughts on paper.)
So anyway, I was at my Christian AWANA group, completing a section in my Christian book, and I got a prize. You may have guessed it, this is the very prize that turned me into that "Knife -wielding delinquent minor".
It was this really nifty little pocket knife. I would tell you all of the things that it could do, but -*Sarcastic laugh*-I don't really have it with me to look at right now, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
So I took this inch and a half piece of misery home, where it sat, still in the package, for almost a month. Although it may not have sounded like it, this "Knife-wielding delinquent minor" isn't really a knife person. And when she is, it's more in the context of cutting vegetables, as apposed to the pocket knife people who use their knives to cut...(Wait a second, I'm not one of those people so I don't even know what they use their knives for primarily!)
But after a while, the look of that little knife lying on the floor made me sad (actually, it didn't make me sad, it was just cluttering up my room...which can make me sad) and for whatever reason, I took the knife out of it's plastic cover. And being the smart individual that I am, I set it in a "Safe place". That was the "Knife-wielding delinquent minor's" first mistake. Her second mistake was to forget where that safe place was. Yeah.

SO now that I've told you the back story, lets fast forward to this March. I was really excited because my sister and I were going to California for eight whole days and teaching a speech workshop for two of them. I was a little stressed about some of the things relating to that trip. Things like: What if I forget my pajamas? or, What if I forget to print those papers that Catey needs printed? Or, What if my plane crashes? But, alas, there was no little voice in my head saying: What if I left that pocket knife that I got from my Christian AWANA group for finishing a section in my Christian book and the "safe place" that I put it was actually my carry on bag and it's sunk down deep in one the pockets and I get pulled over by airport security because I have it there and Mom writes a blog post on it and then I have to write one to defend myself?
Alas. No voice piped up so...yeah. I took my safe place/carry on bag with me to the airport. And I'm just walking through security, when my bag gets pulled out of security and this big, tall security guard walks over and asks me, "Is this your bag?"
"Um, yeah...?"
Now at this point, I'm only thinking; "Why is security pulling my bag? What could that possibly mean? did I pack my toiletries in there? What did I leave in there?"
But the guard made this joke about checking for hand grenades. Not funny. Especially when I'm so confused I don't laugh, I just give the guard a blankly scared look. (I'm sure that was great for my credibility)
CATEY: hits me. "Joss. Hand grenades. he's joking."
JOSS: Delayed silence. *Nervous laugh*.
SECURITY GUARD: Tells me to look through my bag, than officially says; "Is there anything in here that will stick me, cut me or otherwise hurt me in here?"
DELINQUENT MINOR: "Ummmmm, I have a pencil in there."
Then the guard opens the bag and goes through it. "Is this your bible?"
Just when I think this was just a routine check, the guard reaches into the pocket and-oops. In that instant, I knew what it was.
"Uh-oh." The guard pulls out the knife.
CATEY: Hits Joss again, as if to imply that she does not agree with my decision to bring a pocket knife into the airport (no, duh?)

So there's the whole story. I was- ahem- framed. I was too embarrassed to have the the guard mail the knife back to me, so he threw it away. And because of a certain blog post, I spent the whole rest of the time in CA. telling people that I was not a knife-wielding delinquent minor.
Thanks, mom.