I was the world's worst rebel

There are proper badasses in this world, and then there are people who choose to rage against the machine by wearing blue socks to work when the uniform stipulation clearly says black. The latter is a good example of how I spent my 'wild' days as a youth. These are my stories.

*insert Law & Order 'dun dun' sound effect here*

When I was around nine years old I got my very first diary with a lock and key. It had the Genie from Aladdin on the front, which was all the rage back in '92, so I already thought I was the bee's knees. I'd jot down many riveting thoughts in there like, 'My favourite food is chocolate' and 'Today I went to school and it was boring', then dutifully lock it up like it contained FBI secrets. Some days though, when I was feeling like a real punk, I'd write down 'bad' words in there. But just to be on the safe-punk side, I'd make sure they were in pencil instead of pen so I could quickly erase them if mum or dad ever found it. 'Why would you erase it after they've already read it?' you ask. Well, because that's how 9-year-old logic works. Look, when I was little I used to think radio stations miniaturised bands a la 'Honey I Shrunk The Kids' so they'd fit into the car stereo to play music, so past-me wasn't exactly Einstein, OK?

Here's an example of what one of the entries would have looked like:

Dear diary how are you? That's good.
Today my brother was being really dumb. I hate it when he's a stupid idiot. I fed the rabbits today and one bit me and I said sugar honey ice tea at it but no one heard me so it was OK. My favourite colour is orange. OK gotta go bye diary xxx

It was like a really terrible game of mad libs. Oh, and for all the uninitiated rebels out there, Sugar Honey Ice Tea was code on the school playground for 'shit'.

School wasn't only a venue for learning creative ways to not swear. Oh no. It was where we also became adept underground criminals, only we weren't breaking bad, we were... swapping stickers. There's always a craze that sweeps through the classroom like the Outbreak virus: yo-yos, Tazos, Tamagotchis. But nothing caused a meltdown at our school quite like The Great Sticker Bicker of '94. We all became obsessed with making sure our albums were the best on the block. And if you were lucky enough to get your stickers from Kenny's Cardiology, the Holy Grail of pretty stickers at the time, then you immediately had a target on your back as the rest of us Outbreak-ridden folk came at you with wild eyes, foaming at the mouth begging for a swap. It eventually got to the point where the teachers were so sick of the fighting and the presumed lack of concentration ('For the last time, 8 x 6 does not equal 'lots of Jonathan Taylor Thomas stickers') that they actually banned them from school.

As you can imagine, this didn't go down well. So we all conspired together and found other ways to swap our contraband. We'd gather in the parking lot in the morning while everyone was being dropped off and go about our business, bringing out our albums that were tucked away under our jackets like we were a shady character trying to sell stolen watches. We'd also swap notes in class like this:

Unicorn 4 cool dragon?
Big dragon or little?
Big
Only if u put in that Dean Cain sticker 2

OK! P.S. can I use ur glitter pens today?

Rebels for life. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go make a cup of tea and open my milk carton at the wrong end.