Adult Activities

For those who don’t know, adult coloring books are the newest craze. “Adults” all over the country are scooping these things up like hundred dollar bills and what’s even more crazy is that they are actually enjoying this childhood pastime. For me, coloring in between the lines seems like it should be a whole new circle of the Inferno, but maybe Virgil and Dante decided to leave that one out as they sat to color a few pages the Botticelli had drawn up for them. What with it being the new hot thing to do, I figured I could recommend a few more childhood pastimes that should make their way into popularity for adults.

-Imaginary Friends: Everyone needs a friend and what with distance, work, and family, we sometimes forget to make time for our friends. Who better to have than an imaginary friend? They only talk to you. They usually don’t get mad if you don’t ask how their day was. They can also secure you permanent room and board at your local asylum.

-Making Mud Pies: If Sweeney Todd could help make meat pies, why can’t we all make mud pies. Hell, serve ’em up to all your guests and you may never have to entertain at your house again!

-Sticking Things Up Your Nose: There has to be some reason the kids do this. I mean there was that episode of House where the kid stuck the fire truck up his nose to rescue the cat. Doesn’t it just seem fun?

-Temper Tantrums: What better way to get your way than making everyone else hate you as your yell and scream your way to satisfaction? In your defense, you missed your nap time.

-Cops and Robbers/Cowboys and Indians (Native Americans): There is nothing wrong with a little role playing. Just make sure your fake guns and bows are bright and obviously fake unless you want to start collecting real bullets and arrows.


I remember in the third grade,

I wrote a poem which received

such praise from all around

I thought I had it made.

They put me up on the stage

and had me read the lines

and when I reached the end

my words were all the rage.

Applause erupted throughout

the auditorium and through

the halls, barely contained

within the walls. I could shout.

Now, I know just the trick

to writing what others like,

and the praise comes not in applause,

but rather, with a simple click.

© Autumn Siders 2015


Time is the one resource

that can never be replenished.

No matter what efforts are put forth,

we run the clock ’til it’s diminished.

The time has come to stop

counting the seconds, the minutes, the hours.

May the priorities found at the top

be the moments and the people we call ours.

© Autumn Siders 2015

A Night at the Meovies

Much like a human’s inability to hear the proper lyrics to songs, they also seem to lack the ability to get some of the most infamous movie lines right. Here they are for your reference.

Life is like a box of catnip. You never know if you are going to jump off the walls or sleep for five days.

You know how to whistle, don’t you? Well you’re a cat so I guess you can’t.

I love the smell of tuna fish in the morning.

You’ve got to ask yourself one question: “Do I have poop stuck on my butt?” Well, do ya, punk?

There’s no crying in mouse hunting!


A childhood memory…

I am four, maybe five. I stay up all night with my older brother watching Child’s Play. I beg him to let me watch with him. The only reason he lets me watch is because he is too scared to watch by himself. We stay up all night and watch the murderous doll kill time after time until the sun shows it’s face and the real action begins.

My brother is being too nice.

“We should go downstairs and hunt for Chucky,” he says. He never wants to play with me. His motives are suspect, but I agree. We arm ourselves with two wiffle ball bats and proceed to the basement. He stays back as I plow forward, checking in every shadow and prepare to defend myself at all costs.

We enter the room filled with the toy kitchen set that includes a stove and a refrigerator. I pull the oven open and back away quickly ready to swing at anything that might jump out at me. Nothing happens. I open the fridge and repeat. Nothing happens. I have one option left. I tighten my grip on the bat and prepare myself for what would seem like a bases-loaded bottom of the ninth situation. I yank the freezer door open and out pops Chucky. I swing and he lands on the floor at my brother’s feet. I race over and beat the doll until his eye pops out but I don’t stop knowing that I am saving my brother until finally a laugh brings me out of my rage.

I look up and discover it is my brother’s laugh and the doll at his feet is not Chucky, but one from my own collection that much like the kitchen set, has never been used. I am ready to take the bat to my brother but realize, given the chance, I would pull the same prank on him. The end result though, would be him running out of the room screaming.

Joke’s on you, Bro.