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King_of_Clowns | About ten years ago now my great grandfather passed away of old age related stuff, ya know, because he was 92 and stuff, and the resulting situation ruined my entire life/family. He had been the one to raise me along with his wife because when I was little, about 4, my mother was out partying and doing drugs too often to take care of us. So for the next four years of my life I proceeded to grow very close to them. My grandfather who had owned the land since his 20's was the only one in the now commercial only area to own a house. So his land being 20 acres was worth quite a sum of money, about 2 million dollars to be specific. He has been trying to sell the land for some time but didnt want to settle for much less than the two mil. During the last year of his life he finally sold and got the full 2 mil. Being so old and having no use for the money he put into his will a plan that would allow all of his grand children to go through college without cost (to an extent of course, Ivy League schools were not included). His three children though, having half of the total money amongst themselves already decided that deserved it all. So by this time in my life my mother had cleaned up and now spent much of her time helping him because she wanted to repay him for being such a great role model for my siblings and I for so long. She did everything ever for him even though two of his three children lived less a quarter mile away and we lived 10 miles away. So on his death bed they convince this barely congnitive man to change his last will to give them all the money and they will "distribute" it according to his wishes to save on taxes. When he does die they obviously do no such thing and that level of betrayal sends my bi-polar mother into an episode that lasted years and caused me to change my entire life because my already devastated mother can't cope with both his death. And her own mother screwing her for a little more money when my mother really needed the help.
TLDR; grand parents betray great grandfathers last wishes for slightly more money at the cost of my mothers fragile psyche. | About ten years ago now my great grandfather passed away of old age related stuff, ya know, because he was 92 and stuff, and the resulting situation ruined my entire life/family. He had been the one to raise me along with his wife because when I was little, about 4, my mother was out partying and doing drugs too often to take care of us. So for the next four years of my life I proceeded to grow very close to them. My grandfather who had owned the land since his 20's was the only one in the now commercial only area to own a house. So his land being 20 acres was worth quite a sum of money, about 2 million dollars to be specific. He has been trying to sell the land for some time but didnt want to settle for much less than the two mil. During the last year of his life he finally sold and got the full 2 mil. Being so old and having no use for the money he put into his will a plan that would allow all of his grand children to go through college without cost (to an extent of course, Ivy League schools were not included). His three children though, having half of the total money amongst themselves already decided that deserved it all. So by this time in my life my mother had cleaned up and now spent much of her time helping him because she wanted to repay him for being such a great role model for my siblings and I for so long. She did everything ever for him even though two of his three children lived less a quarter mile away and we lived 10 miles away. So on his death bed they convince this barely congnitive man to change his last will to give them all the money and they will "distribute" it according to his wishes to save on taxes. When he does die they obviously do no such thing and that level of betrayal sends my bi-polar mother into an episode that lasted years and caused me to change my entire life because my already devastated mother can't cope with both his death. And her own mother screwing her for a little more money when my mother really needed the help.
TLDR; grand parents betray great grandfathers last wishes for slightly more money at the cost of my mothers fragile psyche.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc85r10 | About ten years ago now my great grandfather passed away of old age related stuff, ya know, because he was 92 and stuff, and the resulting situation ruined my entire life/family. He had been the one to raise me along with his wife because when I was little, about 4, my mother was out partying and doing drugs too often to take care of us. So for the next four years of my life I proceeded to grow very close to them. My grandfather who had owned the land since his 20's was the only one in the now commercial only area to own a house. So his land being 20 acres was worth quite a sum of money, about 2 million dollars to be specific. He has been trying to sell the land for some time but didnt want to settle for much less than the two mil. During the last year of his life he finally sold and got the full 2 mil. Being so old and having no use for the money he put into his will a plan that would allow all of his grand children to go through college without cost (to an extent of course, Ivy League schools were not included). His three children though, having half of the total money amongst themselves already decided that deserved it all. So by this time in my life my mother had cleaned up and now spent much of her time helping him because she wanted to repay him for being such a great role model for my siblings and I for so long. She did everything ever for him even though two of his three children lived less a quarter mile away and we lived 10 miles away. So on his death bed they convince this barely congnitive man to change his last will to give them all the money and they will "distribute" it according to his wishes to save on taxes. When he does die they obviously do no such thing and that level of betrayal sends my bi-polar mother into an episode that lasted years and caused me to change my entire life because my already devastated mother can't cope with both his death. And her own mother screwing her for a little more money when my mother really needed the help. | grand parents betray great grandfathers last wishes for slightly more money at the cost of my mothers fragile psyche. |
abadbuddhist | Back in 2008 i had a (1) small pot plant i was growing in my closet (for science) that my dad had found. I got a call while at work from my brother saying my dad had found it and that my little sister ratted me out. I was kind of suspicious cause my brother was supposed to be the only person who knew. When I got home though my dad sat me down and said my brother told him everything, asked me to not grow anything in the house and just cut back on the ganja in general. To sum it all up he promised not to tell my mom.
So a month or so passes, i'm just sort of doing my happy go lucky thing, going to work, not bothering anyone. Except anytime i'm around my mom it's nothing but ABBAB, for no clear reason. I mean she's like that, but not all the time, and this was everytime i'd enter the room or come home or whatever. It gets to the point where i only come home to sleep. Anytime i'd try to defend myself or blow off her angry rants it would just make the situation worse. The constant berating from her starts taking a real toll when I start contemplating suicide.
So i come home one day and the whole family is there in the living room, my mom, dad, brother, little and big sister, and myself. I apparently walked into an intervention, for me. The whole family is on my ass about how i'm always unhappy around them, and my mom goes in about the pot and the plant and in my head i'm just like "WHat?!" Anyways, my mom wants me, just ME, to go see a family shrink so i'll stop smoking pot, I say I don't want to and that there's way deeper problems than that. Later that night my older sister comes up to me, laughs at me about the plant and says "yeah, I guess somebody told mom," with the most guilty look on her face and tells me to just see the shrink and make things easy.
I don't speak to my older sister anymore and i don't trust my brother with anything (for several reasons, not just this one incident). To this day none of them know how close I came to killing myself.
**Tl;dr -** my siblings ratted me out to my parents and feign ignorance, mom berates me to near suicide, i have to see a shrink for 6 months to talk about marijuana and not how my family treats me like complete crap. | Back in 2008 i had a (1) small pot plant i was growing in my closet (for science) that my dad had found. I got a call while at work from my brother saying my dad had found it and that my little sister ratted me out. I was kind of suspicious cause my brother was supposed to be the only person who knew. When I got home though my dad sat me down and said my brother told him everything, asked me to not grow anything in the house and just cut back on the ganja in general. To sum it all up he promised not to tell my mom.
So a month or so passes, i'm just sort of doing my happy go lucky thing, going to work, not bothering anyone. Except anytime i'm around my mom it's nothing but ABBAB, for no clear reason. I mean she's like that, but not all the time, and this was everytime i'd enter the room or come home or whatever. It gets to the point where i only come home to sleep. Anytime i'd try to defend myself or blow off her angry rants it would just make the situation worse. The constant berating from her starts taking a real toll when I start contemplating suicide.
So i come home one day and the whole family is there in the living room, my mom, dad, brother, little and big sister, and myself. I apparently walked into an intervention, for me. The whole family is on my ass about how i'm always unhappy around them, and my mom goes in about the pot and the plant and in my head i'm just like "WHat?!" Anyways, my mom wants me, just ME, to go see a family shrink so i'll stop smoking pot, I say I don't want to and that there's way deeper problems than that. Later that night my older sister comes up to me, laughs at me about the plant and says "yeah, I guess somebody told mom," with the most guilty look on her face and tells me to just see the shrink and make things easy.
I don't speak to my older sister anymore and i don't trust my brother with anything (for several reasons, not just this one incident). To this day none of them know how close I came to killing myself.
Tl;dr - my siblings ratted me out to my parents and feign ignorance, mom berates me to near suicide, i have to see a shrink for 6 months to talk about marijuana and not how my family treats me like complete crap.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc87knp | Back in 2008 i had a (1) small pot plant i was growing in my closet (for science) that my dad had found. I got a call while at work from my brother saying my dad had found it and that my little sister ratted me out. I was kind of suspicious cause my brother was supposed to be the only person who knew. When I got home though my dad sat me down and said my brother told him everything, asked me to not grow anything in the house and just cut back on the ganja in general. To sum it all up he promised not to tell my mom.
So a month or so passes, i'm just sort of doing my happy go lucky thing, going to work, not bothering anyone. Except anytime i'm around my mom it's nothing but ABBAB, for no clear reason. I mean she's like that, but not all the time, and this was everytime i'd enter the room or come home or whatever. It gets to the point where i only come home to sleep. Anytime i'd try to defend myself or blow off her angry rants it would just make the situation worse. The constant berating from her starts taking a real toll when I start contemplating suicide.
So i come home one day and the whole family is there in the living room, my mom, dad, brother, little and big sister, and myself. I apparently walked into an intervention, for me. The whole family is on my ass about how i'm always unhappy around them, and my mom goes in about the pot and the plant and in my head i'm just like "WHat?!" Anyways, my mom wants me, just ME, to go see a family shrink so i'll stop smoking pot, I say I don't want to and that there's way deeper problems than that. Later that night my older sister comes up to me, laughs at me about the plant and says "yeah, I guess somebody told mom," with the most guilty look on her face and tells me to just see the shrink and make things easy.
I don't speak to my older sister anymore and i don't trust my brother with anything (for several reasons, not just this one incident). To this day none of them know how close I came to killing myself. | my siblings ratted me out to my parents and feign ignorance, mom berates me to near suicide, i have to see a shrink for 6 months to talk about marijuana and not how my family treats me like complete crap. |
Steampunk_Clock | Not a very good story ahead... But I'll start at the beginning.
When I was 3, my youngest brother was born (1995 I was born in January of 1992). Mom wasn't happy it was a boy... Wanted another girl (I'm the only girl and second child of four) but was just happy in the end to have had another child arrive safely into the world that she would love the hell out of regardless of gender. Dad and mom bring my baby brother into the house, I remember my mom holding him with a measured smile wearing red high heels and holding this small bundle of life in yellow and soft green blankets. Then my dad pushed them both down two flights of stairs in our house, right in front of me. That was the start to a long stream of abuse from my father in between the almost blissful six to nine months he was in places like Rwanda, Cyprus, Germany (This was before I was born; seeing as how the PPCLI closed the base in Germany a few years after the wall came down) etc.
Fast forward to me being six, we moved to the other base thanks to the closing of Calgary and into the Edmonton area. All four of us are sitting at the kitchen table when we hear yelling and hitting noises coming from our parents room. My brothers scatter and scuttle off to hide, I go over for some reason I can't fathom at the moment, and see that my father is holding my mother by the throat at the top of the stairs, threatening to push her off, and my mother is screaming for help from my dad's mother who is just sitting there watching it happen.
I turn seven, abuse is escalated, this is the first time out of many my father will hit me in my life..
I pause here, out of trying to remember chronological order to repressed memories from years of conditioning were not else but the bad nightmare I wish it was.
My mother takes my brothers and I out of that house the next morning, divorce papers are served. When I am almost nine (in fact, just a few short days before my birthday) my father and mother are fighting tooth and nail for custody my brothers have been placed with my father, they are fighting over me. My dad is bringing me back to my mother's as he has custody of my brothers and they won't be living with my mom anymore. He pulls the truck over and tells me to look at my brothers; the only constants in my life for the last couple of years his exact words still burn in my mind are "If your mother gets custody of you, you will never see your brothers again. So make sure that doesn't happen."
Three days later, my mother and father get joint custody of me.
The abuse starts off physical, he never touches my brothers, but he does make them watch him beat me. The few times he threatens harm to come to them, I get in the way, hoping to protect them, as by this point I have no one but my brothers. My brothers start blaming me for petty things in order to get out of trouble.
School has noticed the bruises, limp, quietness and how withdrawn I am... But then again, I've always been a clumsy, quiet child; and it must be hard for me to be living without a mother to guide me so it is let go.
At eleven, the abuse escalates to sexual and physical. I'm told it's my own fault, that it wouldn't have to be like this if I were a boy, if I weren't just like my mother.
This continues until I am fifteen, I've discovered that this is wrong and that I need to get out, before he kills me. At this point I am at my lowest, death has been an option since I was twelve, but I can't stand to put my brothers through a moment of what I feel. I'm online a lot, or reading about other worlds, I sometimes still wish to be just another character in a book to live out some fantasy tales of heroism that I know could never happen. The beatings and mental berating is a daily thing, the sexual abuse has started to crawl, as he has a girlfriend for the moment.
I can't take it anymore, I start to plan.
At sixteen, I am tired of it all. I won't attempt suicide, that would be the easy way out, and I don't have the courage to try. I've finally made someone I can call a friend, even though she only sees the face I put forward in school. I talk to her parents, they very kindly tell me I can stay there until I can afford my own place, which they very well know could take a few years. I empty the bank account I had been putting any funds I could into there, it's not much, admittedly and my friend's parents tell me that they will be taking me to get clothes of my own next week. A luxury I never had with my father.
I run away from my father's house the same day. He tried to stop me, but the police have, for once intervened with my father's plans. They ask me if he has hit me, with my father's mother sitting there, glaring at and judging me, I look over and see the seething hatred in my own father's eyes. I look the constable in the eyes and say "No." They tell me I'm being overly dramatic (my father has lied to them, saying I told him I'd kill myself) and that I should apologize to my father at some point... That burning bridges is not in my best interests.
Like I care anymore.
I e-mail my mother, whom I haven't seen since my father got custody of me despite it being joint. I tell her I've left my father's and that I need some time to myself to think things through so kindly piss off and leave me as alone as I have been for years. By this point, I am convinced my mother hates me and that she has left me due to that fact, and I hate her for it in turn... If only I knew just how wrong I was.
Monday after I left my father's, my mother shows up at my school in the councillor's office. She wants to take me to see my therapist that has been about as useful to me and my brothers as tits are to a bull. We talk in her VW on the way there, her tearful; me resentful. The therapist tells me I'm making a big mistake and to go back to my father's house. I never see her again once I walk out of that office, more bitter and angry than when I walked in.
Flash forward six months, I give into my mother's pleading, thank my friend and her parents for everything they have done for me, pack my bags and move into my mother's boyfriend-to-be-fiances PMQ (Personal Military Quarters)... I am afraid of this man, but eventually warm up to him, once I get past the fear of him doing what my father has done to me. I confided my story to him, he swears he will take it to his grave.
A year later, he dies of a massive heart attack.
Eight months later, I'm living at my aunt's to finish school and my mother moves across the country.
Three years later at twenty-one, I've never had a boyfriend... Haven't had consensual sex yet because I'm afraid every man is like my father, I don't want to have a child, because I couldn't stand to be responsible for fucking up another human's life... I'm terrified of being just like my father.
I still resent my mother for things that she was helpless to stop. We're working on our relationship, but it can be very toxic sometimes thanks to the way I see the world.
I haven't seen my brothers since the day I left my father's house five years ago...
TL;DR I probably need some serious help, life sucks. You carry on and try to live with it. Abusive father, disdain towards my mother for things she couldn't control. Slowly getting over it. | Not a very good story ahead... But I'll start at the beginning.
When I was 3, my youngest brother was born (1995 I was born in January of 1992). Mom wasn't happy it was a boy... Wanted another girl (I'm the only girl and second child of four) but was just happy in the end to have had another child arrive safely into the world that she would love the hell out of regardless of gender. Dad and mom bring my baby brother into the house, I remember my mom holding him with a measured smile wearing red high heels and holding this small bundle of life in yellow and soft green blankets. Then my dad pushed them both down two flights of stairs in our house, right in front of me. That was the start to a long stream of abuse from my father in between the almost blissful six to nine months he was in places like Rwanda, Cyprus, Germany (This was before I was born; seeing as how the PPCLI closed the base in Germany a few years after the wall came down) etc.
Fast forward to me being six, we moved to the other base thanks to the closing of Calgary and into the Edmonton area. All four of us are sitting at the kitchen table when we hear yelling and hitting noises coming from our parents room. My brothers scatter and scuttle off to hide, I go over for some reason I can't fathom at the moment, and see that my father is holding my mother by the throat at the top of the stairs, threatening to push her off, and my mother is screaming for help from my dad's mother who is just sitting there watching it happen.
I turn seven, abuse is escalated, this is the first time out of many my father will hit me in my life..
I pause here, out of trying to remember chronological order to repressed memories from years of conditioning were not else but the bad nightmare I wish it was.
My mother takes my brothers and I out of that house the next morning, divorce papers are served. When I am almost nine (in fact, just a few short days before my birthday) my father and mother are fighting tooth and nail for custody my brothers have been placed with my father, they are fighting over me. My dad is bringing me back to my mother's as he has custody of my brothers and they won't be living with my mom anymore. He pulls the truck over and tells me to look at my brothers; the only constants in my life for the last couple of years his exact words still burn in my mind are "If your mother gets custody of you, you will never see your brothers again. So make sure that doesn't happen."
Three days later, my mother and father get joint custody of me.
The abuse starts off physical, he never touches my brothers, but he does make them watch him beat me. The few times he threatens harm to come to them, I get in the way, hoping to protect them, as by this point I have no one but my brothers. My brothers start blaming me for petty things in order to get out of trouble.
School has noticed the bruises, limp, quietness and how withdrawn I am... But then again, I've always been a clumsy, quiet child; and it must be hard for me to be living without a mother to guide me so it is let go.
At eleven, the abuse escalates to sexual and physical. I'm told it's my own fault, that it wouldn't have to be like this if I were a boy, if I weren't just like my mother.
This continues until I am fifteen, I've discovered that this is wrong and that I need to get out, before he kills me. At this point I am at my lowest, death has been an option since I was twelve, but I can't stand to put my brothers through a moment of what I feel. I'm online a lot, or reading about other worlds, I sometimes still wish to be just another character in a book to live out some fantasy tales of heroism that I know could never happen. The beatings and mental berating is a daily thing, the sexual abuse has started to crawl, as he has a girlfriend for the moment.
I can't take it anymore, I start to plan.
At sixteen, I am tired of it all. I won't attempt suicide, that would be the easy way out, and I don't have the courage to try. I've finally made someone I can call a friend, even though she only sees the face I put forward in school. I talk to her parents, they very kindly tell me I can stay there until I can afford my own place, which they very well know could take a few years. I empty the bank account I had been putting any funds I could into there, it's not much, admittedly and my friend's parents tell me that they will be taking me to get clothes of my own next week. A luxury I never had with my father.
I run away from my father's house the same day. He tried to stop me, but the police have, for once intervened with my father's plans. They ask me if he has hit me, with my father's mother sitting there, glaring at and judging me, I look over and see the seething hatred in my own father's eyes. I look the constable in the eyes and say "No." They tell me I'm being overly dramatic (my father has lied to them, saying I told him I'd kill myself) and that I should apologize to my father at some point... That burning bridges is not in my best interests.
Like I care anymore.
I e-mail my mother, whom I haven't seen since my father got custody of me despite it being joint. I tell her I've left my father's and that I need some time to myself to think things through so kindly piss off and leave me as alone as I have been for years. By this point, I am convinced my mother hates me and that she has left me due to that fact, and I hate her for it in turn... If only I knew just how wrong I was.
Monday after I left my father's, my mother shows up at my school in the councillor's office. She wants to take me to see my therapist that has been about as useful to me and my brothers as tits are to a bull. We talk in her VW on the way there, her tearful; me resentful. The therapist tells me I'm making a big mistake and to go back to my father's house. I never see her again once I walk out of that office, more bitter and angry than when I walked in.
Flash forward six months, I give into my mother's pleading, thank my friend and her parents for everything they have done for me, pack my bags and move into my mother's boyfriend-to-be-fiances PMQ (Personal Military Quarters)... I am afraid of this man, but eventually warm up to him, once I get past the fear of him doing what my father has done to me. I confided my story to him, he swears he will take it to his grave.
A year later, he dies of a massive heart attack.
Eight months later, I'm living at my aunt's to finish school and my mother moves across the country.
Three years later at twenty-one, I've never had a boyfriend... Haven't had consensual sex yet because I'm afraid every man is like my father, I don't want to have a child, because I couldn't stand to be responsible for fucking up another human's life... I'm terrified of being just like my father.
I still resent my mother for things that she was helpless to stop. We're working on our relationship, but it can be very toxic sometimes thanks to the way I see the world.
I haven't seen my brothers since the day I left my father's house five years ago...
TL;DR I probably need some serious help, life sucks. You carry on and try to live with it. Abusive father, disdain towards my mother for things she couldn't control. Slowly getting over it.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc87tlf | Not a very good story ahead... But I'll start at the beginning.
When I was 3, my youngest brother was born (1995 I was born in January of 1992). Mom wasn't happy it was a boy... Wanted another girl (I'm the only girl and second child of four) but was just happy in the end to have had another child arrive safely into the world that she would love the hell out of regardless of gender. Dad and mom bring my baby brother into the house, I remember my mom holding him with a measured smile wearing red high heels and holding this small bundle of life in yellow and soft green blankets. Then my dad pushed them both down two flights of stairs in our house, right in front of me. That was the start to a long stream of abuse from my father in between the almost blissful six to nine months he was in places like Rwanda, Cyprus, Germany (This was before I was born; seeing as how the PPCLI closed the base in Germany a few years after the wall came down) etc.
Fast forward to me being six, we moved to the other base thanks to the closing of Calgary and into the Edmonton area. All four of us are sitting at the kitchen table when we hear yelling and hitting noises coming from our parents room. My brothers scatter and scuttle off to hide, I go over for some reason I can't fathom at the moment, and see that my father is holding my mother by the throat at the top of the stairs, threatening to push her off, and my mother is screaming for help from my dad's mother who is just sitting there watching it happen.
I turn seven, abuse is escalated, this is the first time out of many my father will hit me in my life..
I pause here, out of trying to remember chronological order to repressed memories from years of conditioning were not else but the bad nightmare I wish it was.
My mother takes my brothers and I out of that house the next morning, divorce papers are served. When I am almost nine (in fact, just a few short days before my birthday) my father and mother are fighting tooth and nail for custody my brothers have been placed with my father, they are fighting over me. My dad is bringing me back to my mother's as he has custody of my brothers and they won't be living with my mom anymore. He pulls the truck over and tells me to look at my brothers; the only constants in my life for the last couple of years his exact words still burn in my mind are "If your mother gets custody of you, you will never see your brothers again. So make sure that doesn't happen."
Three days later, my mother and father get joint custody of me.
The abuse starts off physical, he never touches my brothers, but he does make them watch him beat me. The few times he threatens harm to come to them, I get in the way, hoping to protect them, as by this point I have no one but my brothers. My brothers start blaming me for petty things in order to get out of trouble.
School has noticed the bruises, limp, quietness and how withdrawn I am... But then again, I've always been a clumsy, quiet child; and it must be hard for me to be living without a mother to guide me so it is let go.
At eleven, the abuse escalates to sexual and physical. I'm told it's my own fault, that it wouldn't have to be like this if I were a boy, if I weren't just like my mother.
This continues until I am fifteen, I've discovered that this is wrong and that I need to get out, before he kills me. At this point I am at my lowest, death has been an option since I was twelve, but I can't stand to put my brothers through a moment of what I feel. I'm online a lot, or reading about other worlds, I sometimes still wish to be just another character in a book to live out some fantasy tales of heroism that I know could never happen. The beatings and mental berating is a daily thing, the sexual abuse has started to crawl, as he has a girlfriend for the moment.
I can't take it anymore, I start to plan.
At sixteen, I am tired of it all. I won't attempt suicide, that would be the easy way out, and I don't have the courage to try. I've finally made someone I can call a friend, even though she only sees the face I put forward in school. I talk to her parents, they very kindly tell me I can stay there until I can afford my own place, which they very well know could take a few years. I empty the bank account I had been putting any funds I could into there, it's not much, admittedly and my friend's parents tell me that they will be taking me to get clothes of my own next week. A luxury I never had with my father.
I run away from my father's house the same day. He tried to stop me, but the police have, for once intervened with my father's plans. They ask me if he has hit me, with my father's mother sitting there, glaring at and judging me, I look over and see the seething hatred in my own father's eyes. I look the constable in the eyes and say "No." They tell me I'm being overly dramatic (my father has lied to them, saying I told him I'd kill myself) and that I should apologize to my father at some point... That burning bridges is not in my best interests.
Like I care anymore.
I e-mail my mother, whom I haven't seen since my father got custody of me despite it being joint. I tell her I've left my father's and that I need some time to myself to think things through so kindly piss off and leave me as alone as I have been for years. By this point, I am convinced my mother hates me and that she has left me due to that fact, and I hate her for it in turn... If only I knew just how wrong I was.
Monday after I left my father's, my mother shows up at my school in the councillor's office. She wants to take me to see my therapist that has been about as useful to me and my brothers as tits are to a bull. We talk in her VW on the way there, her tearful; me resentful. The therapist tells me I'm making a big mistake and to go back to my father's house. I never see her again once I walk out of that office, more bitter and angry than when I walked in.
Flash forward six months, I give into my mother's pleading, thank my friend and her parents for everything they have done for me, pack my bags and move into my mother's boyfriend-to-be-fiances PMQ (Personal Military Quarters)... I am afraid of this man, but eventually warm up to him, once I get past the fear of him doing what my father has done to me. I confided my story to him, he swears he will take it to his grave.
A year later, he dies of a massive heart attack.
Eight months later, I'm living at my aunt's to finish school and my mother moves across the country.
Three years later at twenty-one, I've never had a boyfriend... Haven't had consensual sex yet because I'm afraid every man is like my father, I don't want to have a child, because I couldn't stand to be responsible for fucking up another human's life... I'm terrified of being just like my father.
I still resent my mother for things that she was helpless to stop. We're working on our relationship, but it can be very toxic sometimes thanks to the way I see the world.
I haven't seen my brothers since the day I left my father's house five years ago... | I probably need some serious help, life sucks. You carry on and try to live with it. Abusive father, disdain towards my mother for things she couldn't control. Slowly getting over it. |
shiraae | I feel like I should use a throwaway, but whatever.
I was born in a regular hospital, like any other baby. I was a surprise gender, my mom never did ultra sounds. So when my dad found out I was a girl, he beat my mom up and left.
Everything went okay for a bit. My mom tried to get a job, and we moved out of our apartment when someone got shot right in front of us. I was about 4 then, and I was already a bit chubby.
For about 2 or 3 years, up until I was seven, we were homeless. We either lived in shelters or with my grandparents. My mom took to weed and painkillers like Methadone and Xanax. At this point I was about 7 or 8, and was really getting fat. Maybe 105 or somewhere around there. Excuse my fatlogic, but I feel like it was our lack of money that made me balloon up. It's much cheaper to buy a few 99 cent hamburgers than it is to go to the grocery store and pick up fruit and vegetables. At this point, I had never been in school.
At age 10, I finally went to school. my mom finally got a job, and met a guy. I always felt there was something off about this guy. Aggressive. And then I found out he had been beating my mom up while I was in school. I got mad. Years of shit had built up. I was so angry. (I'm still always angry and aggressive.) I got in a huge fight with him. He knocked me out, and when I woke up I was in an ambulance on the way to a hospital. Turns out they were going to put me in the pediatric ward in a psych hospital. I stayed in there till I was 13, and then after that was in and out of them up to age 15. I had and still have a lot of anxiety, severe depression, and really bad anger issues.
After I got out of the mental hospital permanently, my mom decided to choose her boyfriend over me, and sent me from Jersey to Colorado to live with family. Last I heard, she has about 3 kids from that asshole. I feel bad for those babies. I don't want them to go through what I went through.
Tl;dr my mom was on drugs, sent me to a mental hospital, chose a man over me, and sent me to live basically across the country so she could stay with him.
Maybe this isn't exactly *cruel*, but I figured it was pretty messed up. | I feel like I should use a throwaway, but whatever.
I was born in a regular hospital, like any other baby. I was a surprise gender, my mom never did ultra sounds. So when my dad found out I was a girl, he beat my mom up and left.
Everything went okay for a bit. My mom tried to get a job, and we moved out of our apartment when someone got shot right in front of us. I was about 4 then, and I was already a bit chubby.
For about 2 or 3 years, up until I was seven, we were homeless. We either lived in shelters or with my grandparents. My mom took to weed and painkillers like Methadone and Xanax. At this point I was about 7 or 8, and was really getting fat. Maybe 105 or somewhere around there. Excuse my fatlogic, but I feel like it was our lack of money that made me balloon up. It's much cheaper to buy a few 99 cent hamburgers than it is to go to the grocery store and pick up fruit and vegetables. At this point, I had never been in school.
At age 10, I finally went to school. my mom finally got a job, and met a guy. I always felt there was something off about this guy. Aggressive. And then I found out he had been beating my mom up while I was in school. I got mad. Years of shit had built up. I was so angry. (I'm still always angry and aggressive.) I got in a huge fight with him. He knocked me out, and when I woke up I was in an ambulance on the way to a hospital. Turns out they were going to put me in the pediatric ward in a psych hospital. I stayed in there till I was 13, and then after that was in and out of them up to age 15. I had and still have a lot of anxiety, severe depression, and really bad anger issues.
After I got out of the mental hospital permanently, my mom decided to choose her boyfriend over me, and sent me from Jersey to Colorado to live with family. Last I heard, she has about 3 kids from that asshole. I feel bad for those babies. I don't want them to go through what I went through.
Tl;dr my mom was on drugs, sent me to a mental hospital, chose a man over me, and sent me to live basically across the country so she could stay with him.
Maybe this isn't exactly cruel , but I figured it was pretty messed up.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc8bafu | I feel like I should use a throwaway, but whatever.
I was born in a regular hospital, like any other baby. I was a surprise gender, my mom never did ultra sounds. So when my dad found out I was a girl, he beat my mom up and left.
Everything went okay for a bit. My mom tried to get a job, and we moved out of our apartment when someone got shot right in front of us. I was about 4 then, and I was already a bit chubby.
For about 2 or 3 years, up until I was seven, we were homeless. We either lived in shelters or with my grandparents. My mom took to weed and painkillers like Methadone and Xanax. At this point I was about 7 or 8, and was really getting fat. Maybe 105 or somewhere around there. Excuse my fatlogic, but I feel like it was our lack of money that made me balloon up. It's much cheaper to buy a few 99 cent hamburgers than it is to go to the grocery store and pick up fruit and vegetables. At this point, I had never been in school.
At age 10, I finally went to school. my mom finally got a job, and met a guy. I always felt there was something off about this guy. Aggressive. And then I found out he had been beating my mom up while I was in school. I got mad. Years of shit had built up. I was so angry. (I'm still always angry and aggressive.) I got in a huge fight with him. He knocked me out, and when I woke up I was in an ambulance on the way to a hospital. Turns out they were going to put me in the pediatric ward in a psych hospital. I stayed in there till I was 13, and then after that was in and out of them up to age 15. I had and still have a lot of anxiety, severe depression, and really bad anger issues.
After I got out of the mental hospital permanently, my mom decided to choose her boyfriend over me, and sent me from Jersey to Colorado to live with family. Last I heard, she has about 3 kids from that asshole. I feel bad for those babies. I don't want them to go through what I went through. | my mom was on drugs, sent me to a mental hospital, chose a man over me, and sent me to live basically across the country so she could stay with him.
Maybe this isn't exactly cruel , but I figured it was pretty messed up. |
scary_sak | I've always wanted a tattoo. Nothing major like a skin or anything, but I have a piece of writing that means a lot to me in mind. Anyways, my parents are completely against tattoos, so when I told them I wanted one, they went ape. I told them when I was 16, and ignored them giving out about it and told them I'd get it done when I was 18 because it was my body and I could do what I wanted (I'm not a big rebel or anything, but this writing meant and still does mean a lot to me). So when I was 17, my Granny was in hospital very ill. It was her last day and my family went in to say our goodbyes. I was very close to my Granny. When we were in the room, she was trying to talk to us. We would talk back to her, and try to make it a normal conversation for her, because she hated to think people were feeling sorry for her or crying over her. Anyways, my Dad in the middle of the room (it was his Mom, and never have I EVER seen him so distraught) he blurted out that we (my sister wanted one too) wanted to tattoos. My Granny is completely against them too. She could barley make out the words but she said "oh no, girls, don't destroy your beautiful bodies." My Dad then said "that's what I said mother. Girls, promise Granny you won't get one". I promised. It's 2 years later, and I'll never EVER get a tattoo.
**tl;dr - Dad made me promise my Granny that I'd never get a tattoo on her death bed**
EDIT: I realise this seems like nothing in comparison to some of the things I'm reading here | I've always wanted a tattoo. Nothing major like a skin or anything, but I have a piece of writing that means a lot to me in mind. Anyways, my parents are completely against tattoos, so when I told them I wanted one, they went ape. I told them when I was 16, and ignored them giving out about it and told them I'd get it done when I was 18 because it was my body and I could do what I wanted (I'm not a big rebel or anything, but this writing meant and still does mean a lot to me). So when I was 17, my Granny was in hospital very ill. It was her last day and my family went in to say our goodbyes. I was very close to my Granny. When we were in the room, she was trying to talk to us. We would talk back to her, and try to make it a normal conversation for her, because she hated to think people were feeling sorry for her or crying over her. Anyways, my Dad in the middle of the room (it was his Mom, and never have I EVER seen him so distraught) he blurted out that we (my sister wanted one too) wanted to tattoos. My Granny is completely against them too. She could barley make out the words but she said "oh no, girls, don't destroy your beautiful bodies." My Dad then said "that's what I said mother. Girls, promise Granny you won't get one". I promised. It's 2 years later, and I'll never EVER get a tattoo.
tl;dr - Dad made me promise my Granny that I'd never get a tattoo on her death bed
EDIT: I realise this seems like nothing in comparison to some of the things I'm reading here
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc8gqvd | I've always wanted a tattoo. Nothing major like a skin or anything, but I have a piece of writing that means a lot to me in mind. Anyways, my parents are completely against tattoos, so when I told them I wanted one, they went ape. I told them when I was 16, and ignored them giving out about it and told them I'd get it done when I was 18 because it was my body and I could do what I wanted (I'm not a big rebel or anything, but this writing meant and still does mean a lot to me). So when I was 17, my Granny was in hospital very ill. It was her last day and my family went in to say our goodbyes. I was very close to my Granny. When we were in the room, she was trying to talk to us. We would talk back to her, and try to make it a normal conversation for her, because she hated to think people were feeling sorry for her or crying over her. Anyways, my Dad in the middle of the room (it was his Mom, and never have I EVER seen him so distraught) he blurted out that we (my sister wanted one too) wanted to tattoos. My Granny is completely against them too. She could barley make out the words but she said "oh no, girls, don't destroy your beautiful bodies." My Dad then said "that's what I said mother. Girls, promise Granny you won't get one". I promised. It's 2 years later, and I'll never EVER get a tattoo. | Dad made me promise my Granny that I'd never get a tattoo on her death bed
EDIT: I realise this seems like nothing in comparison to some of the things I'm reading here |
machismach | My grandmother was a vicious and cruel woman, and the kind of person that hoarded everything, especially food. She had a particularly nasty habit of buying baked goods at the grocery store, freezing them, the digging them out a year or so later for our family gatherings. Seriously, hoarding is a sickness that we all saw firsthand with her.
For Thanksgiving one year, she came to our big family lunch-dinner meal 2 hours late (as usual) after everyone had already eaten. Instead of cooking something for everyone, she brought an apple pie from the local grocery store. I guess she felt the tension in the air (she was late to EVERYTHING and we always hated it), so she decided to take the focus off her lack of punctuality and call attention to the dessert she brought.
I was 16 at the time, and the oldest grandchild. She called me over to the kitchen and started cutting me a piece of pie. Knowing about her hoarding habit, I checked the lid of the plastic bakery container for an expiration date while she was digging through the fridge looking for Cool Whip. This apple pie was over 3 years old. As she's putting a huge dollop of cream on top of this otherwise normal-looking slice of pie, I start panicking. I'm wracking my brain to find an excuse not to eat this pie. My grandmother hands me the pie and loudly exclaims (before I even take a bite) that she can tell I am enjoying it. I start telling her I don't want it, I'm full, I'm cutting back on sugar, etc. It isn't enough. She's shoving it towards me, insisting she got it "because it's your favorite." (Cherry is my favorite). Her temper starts rearing its ugly head and I seriously start thinking she's going to force-feed it to me if I don't decide to eat it willingly.
As a teenager, I naturally felt I was indestructible all the time and thought "fuck it, it's just pie. And it was frozen, so it should be fine, right?" I took the pie from her and ate every bite. Some frostbitten apple pie was a small price to pay for my bitchy grandma to be happy and to have my already-uneasy family appeased.
The trip to the ER an hour later to have my stomach pumped, however, was a much larger price to pay for that shit. My mom drove me there (nobody knew just HOW expired the pie was as I blew chunks all the way to the hospital) because my grandma had to leave early. She wasn't feeling too well after my first round of vomiting and had to go lie down in her own bed. I never got a phone call or anything checking on me, and it was never spoken of again.
Background info on my grandma: We tried not to call attention to her hoarding habit (in retrospect that was a huge mistake, but fuck it, I was just a teenager and it wasn't something I worried about). She was constantly in denial about her hoarding, and the few times we called her on it AND proved it to her (like, showing her the expiration date on way-expired pie), she would break down and sob these stupid fake crocodile years until we apologized. She was a master manipulator, and everyone always catered to her guilt trips and bitchiness. My grandpa (her husband) had a stroke when I was little, and she actually faked a heart attack while we were all visiting him in the hospital because she wasn't getting any attention. It was awkward.
Edit: TL;DR - My bitch-ass grandma knowingly food-poisoned me at Thanksgiving to take my angry family's focus off of her. ER trip and stomach pumping adventures galore. | My grandmother was a vicious and cruel woman, and the kind of person that hoarded everything, especially food. She had a particularly nasty habit of buying baked goods at the grocery store, freezing them, the digging them out a year or so later for our family gatherings. Seriously, hoarding is a sickness that we all saw firsthand with her.
For Thanksgiving one year, she came to our big family lunch-dinner meal 2 hours late (as usual) after everyone had already eaten. Instead of cooking something for everyone, she brought an apple pie from the local grocery store. I guess she felt the tension in the air (she was late to EVERYTHING and we always hated it), so she decided to take the focus off her lack of punctuality and call attention to the dessert she brought.
I was 16 at the time, and the oldest grandchild. She called me over to the kitchen and started cutting me a piece of pie. Knowing about her hoarding habit, I checked the lid of the plastic bakery container for an expiration date while she was digging through the fridge looking for Cool Whip. This apple pie was over 3 years old. As she's putting a huge dollop of cream on top of this otherwise normal-looking slice of pie, I start panicking. I'm wracking my brain to find an excuse not to eat this pie. My grandmother hands me the pie and loudly exclaims (before I even take a bite) that she can tell I am enjoying it. I start telling her I don't want it, I'm full, I'm cutting back on sugar, etc. It isn't enough. She's shoving it towards me, insisting she got it "because it's your favorite." (Cherry is my favorite). Her temper starts rearing its ugly head and I seriously start thinking she's going to force-feed it to me if I don't decide to eat it willingly.
As a teenager, I naturally felt I was indestructible all the time and thought "fuck it, it's just pie. And it was frozen, so it should be fine, right?" I took the pie from her and ate every bite. Some frostbitten apple pie was a small price to pay for my bitchy grandma to be happy and to have my already-uneasy family appeased.
The trip to the ER an hour later to have my stomach pumped, however, was a much larger price to pay for that shit. My mom drove me there (nobody knew just HOW expired the pie was as I blew chunks all the way to the hospital) because my grandma had to leave early. She wasn't feeling too well after my first round of vomiting and had to go lie down in her own bed. I never got a phone call or anything checking on me, and it was never spoken of again.
Background info on my grandma: We tried not to call attention to her hoarding habit (in retrospect that was a huge mistake, but fuck it, I was just a teenager and it wasn't something I worried about). She was constantly in denial about her hoarding, and the few times we called her on it AND proved it to her (like, showing her the expiration date on way-expired pie), she would break down and sob these stupid fake crocodile years until we apologized. She was a master manipulator, and everyone always catered to her guilt trips and bitchiness. My grandpa (her husband) had a stroke when I was little, and she actually faked a heart attack while we were all visiting him in the hospital because she wasn't getting any attention. It was awkward.
Edit: TL;DR - My bitch-ass grandma knowingly food-poisoned me at Thanksgiving to take my angry family's focus off of her. ER trip and stomach pumping adventures galore.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc7zx8u | My grandmother was a vicious and cruel woman, and the kind of person that hoarded everything, especially food. She had a particularly nasty habit of buying baked goods at the grocery store, freezing them, the digging them out a year or so later for our family gatherings. Seriously, hoarding is a sickness that we all saw firsthand with her.
For Thanksgiving one year, she came to our big family lunch-dinner meal 2 hours late (as usual) after everyone had already eaten. Instead of cooking something for everyone, she brought an apple pie from the local grocery store. I guess she felt the tension in the air (she was late to EVERYTHING and we always hated it), so she decided to take the focus off her lack of punctuality and call attention to the dessert she brought.
I was 16 at the time, and the oldest grandchild. She called me over to the kitchen and started cutting me a piece of pie. Knowing about her hoarding habit, I checked the lid of the plastic bakery container for an expiration date while she was digging through the fridge looking for Cool Whip. This apple pie was over 3 years old. As she's putting a huge dollop of cream on top of this otherwise normal-looking slice of pie, I start panicking. I'm wracking my brain to find an excuse not to eat this pie. My grandmother hands me the pie and loudly exclaims (before I even take a bite) that she can tell I am enjoying it. I start telling her I don't want it, I'm full, I'm cutting back on sugar, etc. It isn't enough. She's shoving it towards me, insisting she got it "because it's your favorite." (Cherry is my favorite). Her temper starts rearing its ugly head and I seriously start thinking she's going to force-feed it to me if I don't decide to eat it willingly.
As a teenager, I naturally felt I was indestructible all the time and thought "fuck it, it's just pie. And it was frozen, so it should be fine, right?" I took the pie from her and ate every bite. Some frostbitten apple pie was a small price to pay for my bitchy grandma to be happy and to have my already-uneasy family appeased.
The trip to the ER an hour later to have my stomach pumped, however, was a much larger price to pay for that shit. My mom drove me there (nobody knew just HOW expired the pie was as I blew chunks all the way to the hospital) because my grandma had to leave early. She wasn't feeling too well after my first round of vomiting and had to go lie down in her own bed. I never got a phone call or anything checking on me, and it was never spoken of again.
Background info on my grandma: We tried not to call attention to her hoarding habit (in retrospect that was a huge mistake, but fuck it, I was just a teenager and it wasn't something I worried about). She was constantly in denial about her hoarding, and the few times we called her on it AND proved it to her (like, showing her the expiration date on way-expired pie), she would break down and sob these stupid fake crocodile years until we apologized. She was a master manipulator, and everyone always catered to her guilt trips and bitchiness. My grandpa (her husband) had a stroke when I was little, and she actually faked a heart attack while we were all visiting him in the hospital because she wasn't getting any attention. It was awkward.
Edit: | My bitch-ass grandma knowingly food-poisoned me at Thanksgiving to take my angry family's focus off of her. ER trip and stomach pumping adventures galore. |
dadudemon | > I did. I starved myself stupid for 3 months.
>tl;dr I lost 20 pounds in two months
Interesting. | > I did. I starved myself stupid for 3 months.
>tl;dr I lost 20 pounds in two months
Interesting.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc8053t | I did. I starved myself stupid for 3 months.
> | I lost 20 pounds in two months
Interesting. |
sashas_demon | This happened when I was about 5-6. A little backstory: I'm an only child and my dad walked out on us a little while after I was born, so my uncle—a young (25-30), fairly attractive but pretty frigid Dutch guy who had married into the family—became sort of a role model to me. He was more like a big brother than a father or an uncle, but I loved him dearly and somehow he grew a soft spot for the annoying little girl that clung to his leg whenever he came to visit, and that soft spot has remained to this day. He will always be the most important person in my life, but I've never doubted the idea that he's a potentially dangerous man. I don't know everything about him and probably never will.
Anyway, one day mom's shepard pie had a disagreement with my stomach and decided to make a re-appearance right in the middle of my first-grade class' Reader's Theatre. After I finish sobbing out of shame and disgust and whatever other emotions compell little kids to cry after they puke (especially in front of their friends, I was shunned for the next month or so), I was sent to the nurse and my uncle was called to come pick me up. I could sense the intimidation radiating off the school nurse when she explained the situation to the 6'3", leather-clad Dutchman that used to let his niece paint his Rottweiler's toenails pink, but the only thing I was concerned about at that point was the fact that there was this little red-haired boy whom I'd never seen before in my life tagging along behind him like a little puppy. He didn't even mention the boy until we were getting in the car. Apparently the kid's name was Glenn and he'd offered to drive him home. Glenn didn't say a word to me and spent the entire twenty-minute drive staring out the passenger window with a blank expression. When we arrived at his house, which was actually a pretty cute-looking brick cottage about two neighborhoods away from mine, Glenn bolted. I'm sure the door was open before the car had even stopped. That kid didn't dare look back. We idled on the side of the road for a few minutes after the front door slammed, watched the lights come on in the house and the barking dogs echo from within it. I don't know who that little red-haired boy really was, but in that moment I remembered praying that I would never see him again, because my uncle was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, his mouth was twisted, his eyes were narrowed and he was *pissed.* After a couple minutes I thought he might have forgotten me, so I crawled up into the front seat and kind of cuddled up next to him because I genuinely thought he was upset because the boy left so suddenly without saying goodbye or thank you or anything. He dropped me off at my mom's house and told me that Glenn was our little secret, and not to tell anyone about him. I didn't.
My mother is also quite the character. She's not abusive, has never laid a hand on me and has tried numerous times to convince me that she never will, but one would think she'd know I'm old enough now to know that doesn't mean she won't try to hurt me. Just a month ago I was walking through the dining room, when a steak knife flies not two inches past my nose and sticks a solid four inches into the dry wall to my left. I look at her in shock (although I'm not really shocked), and she's just shrugging nonchalantly from behind the kitchen counter. "I thought I saw one of those silverfish." And your chances of hitting it were greater than your chances of hitting your daughter's eye?
What's even more unnerving is that that wall is decorated with similar nick marks that have resulted from her throwing knives across the room from the kitchen sink, though not always while it's occupied. I guess I've never questioned the fact that my mother's hobby is throwing knives at her dinning room walls and sometimes at her children.
Several times I've caught my mother flirting with my uncle (my mom's sister, the woman he was married to, died two years ago of breast cancer), although fortunately he's brushed her off every time. Throughout my life I've also caught them in each other's faces when they think I'm not listening, staring each other down, more like snakes poised to strike rather than adults arguing quietly in Dutch. The look in their eyes is always downright murderous.
I don't know how much of that you would consider "cruel", but as I'm getting older (I'm fifteen, almost sixteen now; don't hate me) I'm starting to think that hiding something that's getting gradually more obvious is being hidden from your own daughter is considered a little harsh—especially if it involves throwing knives at her. I don't try to dig around and I just sort of cope with things as they come along, convincing myself that the people I'm supposed to trust the most in this world are only trying to protect me. Sorry if that was a bit of a drag—I could write a book on every odd thing my sociopathical family has done. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, everyone is a little more feral than I'd like to admit. Sometimes I wonder if I'll just inherit their insanity, if I haven't already. It feels good to get it out there, though.
Edit: Sorry for the wall of text. This is my first post. -.-
**TL;DR: Crazy uncle and sociopathic mother. My family is weird.** | This happened when I was about 5-6. A little backstory: I'm an only child and my dad walked out on us a little while after I was born, so my uncle—a young (25-30), fairly attractive but pretty frigid Dutch guy who had married into the family—became sort of a role model to me. He was more like a big brother than a father or an uncle, but I loved him dearly and somehow he grew a soft spot for the annoying little girl that clung to his leg whenever he came to visit, and that soft spot has remained to this day. He will always be the most important person in my life, but I've never doubted the idea that he's a potentially dangerous man. I don't know everything about him and probably never will.
Anyway, one day mom's shepard pie had a disagreement with my stomach and decided to make a re-appearance right in the middle of my first-grade class' Reader's Theatre. After I finish sobbing out of shame and disgust and whatever other emotions compell little kids to cry after they puke (especially in front of their friends, I was shunned for the next month or so), I was sent to the nurse and my uncle was called to come pick me up. I could sense the intimidation radiating off the school nurse when she explained the situation to the 6'3", leather-clad Dutchman that used to let his niece paint his Rottweiler's toenails pink, but the only thing I was concerned about at that point was the fact that there was this little red-haired boy whom I'd never seen before in my life tagging along behind him like a little puppy. He didn't even mention the boy until we were getting in the car. Apparently the kid's name was Glenn and he'd offered to drive him home. Glenn didn't say a word to me and spent the entire twenty-minute drive staring out the passenger window with a blank expression. When we arrived at his house, which was actually a pretty cute-looking brick cottage about two neighborhoods away from mine, Glenn bolted. I'm sure the door was open before the car had even stopped. That kid didn't dare look back. We idled on the side of the road for a few minutes after the front door slammed, watched the lights come on in the house and the barking dogs echo from within it. I don't know who that little red-haired boy really was, but in that moment I remembered praying that I would never see him again, because my uncle was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, his mouth was twisted, his eyes were narrowed and he was pissed. After a couple minutes I thought he might have forgotten me, so I crawled up into the front seat and kind of cuddled up next to him because I genuinely thought he was upset because the boy left so suddenly without saying goodbye or thank you or anything. He dropped me off at my mom's house and told me that Glenn was our little secret, and not to tell anyone about him. I didn't.
My mother is also quite the character. She's not abusive, has never laid a hand on me and has tried numerous times to convince me that she never will, but one would think she'd know I'm old enough now to know that doesn't mean she won't try to hurt me. Just a month ago I was walking through the dining room, when a steak knife flies not two inches past my nose and sticks a solid four inches into the dry wall to my left. I look at her in shock (although I'm not really shocked), and she's just shrugging nonchalantly from behind the kitchen counter. "I thought I saw one of those silverfish." And your chances of hitting it were greater than your chances of hitting your daughter's eye?
What's even more unnerving is that that wall is decorated with similar nick marks that have resulted from her throwing knives across the room from the kitchen sink, though not always while it's occupied. I guess I've never questioned the fact that my mother's hobby is throwing knives at her dinning room walls and sometimes at her children.
Several times I've caught my mother flirting with my uncle (my mom's sister, the woman he was married to, died two years ago of breast cancer), although fortunately he's brushed her off every time. Throughout my life I've also caught them in each other's faces when they think I'm not listening, staring each other down, more like snakes poised to strike rather than adults arguing quietly in Dutch. The look in their eyes is always downright murderous.
I don't know how much of that you would consider "cruel", but as I'm getting older (I'm fifteen, almost sixteen now; don't hate me) I'm starting to think that hiding something that's getting gradually more obvious is being hidden from your own daughter is considered a little harsh—especially if it involves throwing knives at her. I don't try to dig around and I just sort of cope with things as they come along, convincing myself that the people I'm supposed to trust the most in this world are only trying to protect me. Sorry if that was a bit of a drag—I could write a book on every odd thing my sociopathical family has done. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, everyone is a little more feral than I'd like to admit. Sometimes I wonder if I'll just inherit their insanity, if I haven't already. It feels good to get it out there, though.
Edit: Sorry for the wall of text. This is my first post. -.-
TL;DR: Crazy uncle and sociopathic mother. My family is weird.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc891l4 | This happened when I was about 5-6. A little backstory: I'm an only child and my dad walked out on us a little while after I was born, so my uncle—a young (25-30), fairly attractive but pretty frigid Dutch guy who had married into the family—became sort of a role model to me. He was more like a big brother than a father or an uncle, but I loved him dearly and somehow he grew a soft spot for the annoying little girl that clung to his leg whenever he came to visit, and that soft spot has remained to this day. He will always be the most important person in my life, but I've never doubted the idea that he's a potentially dangerous man. I don't know everything about him and probably never will.
Anyway, one day mom's shepard pie had a disagreement with my stomach and decided to make a re-appearance right in the middle of my first-grade class' Reader's Theatre. After I finish sobbing out of shame and disgust and whatever other emotions compell little kids to cry after they puke (especially in front of their friends, I was shunned for the next month or so), I was sent to the nurse and my uncle was called to come pick me up. I could sense the intimidation radiating off the school nurse when she explained the situation to the 6'3", leather-clad Dutchman that used to let his niece paint his Rottweiler's toenails pink, but the only thing I was concerned about at that point was the fact that there was this little red-haired boy whom I'd never seen before in my life tagging along behind him like a little puppy. He didn't even mention the boy until we were getting in the car. Apparently the kid's name was Glenn and he'd offered to drive him home. Glenn didn't say a word to me and spent the entire twenty-minute drive staring out the passenger window with a blank expression. When we arrived at his house, which was actually a pretty cute-looking brick cottage about two neighborhoods away from mine, Glenn bolted. I'm sure the door was open before the car had even stopped. That kid didn't dare look back. We idled on the side of the road for a few minutes after the front door slammed, watched the lights come on in the house and the barking dogs echo from within it. I don't know who that little red-haired boy really was, but in that moment I remembered praying that I would never see him again, because my uncle was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, his mouth was twisted, his eyes were narrowed and he was pissed. After a couple minutes I thought he might have forgotten me, so I crawled up into the front seat and kind of cuddled up next to him because I genuinely thought he was upset because the boy left so suddenly without saying goodbye or thank you or anything. He dropped me off at my mom's house and told me that Glenn was our little secret, and not to tell anyone about him. I didn't.
My mother is also quite the character. She's not abusive, has never laid a hand on me and has tried numerous times to convince me that she never will, but one would think she'd know I'm old enough now to know that doesn't mean she won't try to hurt me. Just a month ago I was walking through the dining room, when a steak knife flies not two inches past my nose and sticks a solid four inches into the dry wall to my left. I look at her in shock (although I'm not really shocked), and she's just shrugging nonchalantly from behind the kitchen counter. "I thought I saw one of those silverfish." And your chances of hitting it were greater than your chances of hitting your daughter's eye?
What's even more unnerving is that that wall is decorated with similar nick marks that have resulted from her throwing knives across the room from the kitchen sink, though not always while it's occupied. I guess I've never questioned the fact that my mother's hobby is throwing knives at her dinning room walls and sometimes at her children.
Several times I've caught my mother flirting with my uncle (my mom's sister, the woman he was married to, died two years ago of breast cancer), although fortunately he's brushed her off every time. Throughout my life I've also caught them in each other's faces when they think I'm not listening, staring each other down, more like snakes poised to strike rather than adults arguing quietly in Dutch. The look in their eyes is always downright murderous.
I don't know how much of that you would consider "cruel", but as I'm getting older (I'm fifteen, almost sixteen now; don't hate me) I'm starting to think that hiding something that's getting gradually more obvious is being hidden from your own daughter is considered a little harsh—especially if it involves throwing knives at her. I don't try to dig around and I just sort of cope with things as they come along, convincing myself that the people I'm supposed to trust the most in this world are only trying to protect me. Sorry if that was a bit of a drag—I could write a book on every odd thing my sociopathical family has done. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, everyone is a little more feral than I'd like to admit. Sometimes I wonder if I'll just inherit their insanity, if I haven't already. It feels good to get it out there, though.
Edit: Sorry for the wall of text. This is my first post. -.- | Crazy uncle and sociopathic mother. My family is weird. |
danbot | The last day on my stock OEM battery I took it off the charger at 8AM made now calls nor text nor surfed the web nor played any games. The battery was in the red at 15%. That was the day I ordered my zerolemon. I took the phone off my charger on Monday then made a 2hr 49 min. phone call to my mother, after hanging up I noticed I still had 94% battery. TLDR: Order the battery right now. | The last day on my stock OEM battery I took it off the charger at 8AM made now calls nor text nor surfed the web nor played any games. The battery was in the red at 15%. That was the day I ordered my zerolemon. I took the phone off my charger on Monday then made a 2hr 49 min. phone call to my mother, after hanging up I noticed I still had 94% battery. TLDR: Order the battery right now.
| GalaxyS3 | t5_2u1ok | cc81sdm | The last day on my stock OEM battery I took it off the charger at 8AM made now calls nor text nor surfed the web nor played any games. The battery was in the red at 15%. That was the day I ordered my zerolemon. I took the phone off my charger on Monday then made a 2hr 49 min. phone call to my mother, after hanging up I noticed I still had 94% battery. | Order the battery right now. |
antisyzygy | I had something similar happen. I was in a PhD program for applied mathematics. I made the dumb mistake of transferring schools after my MS program and had a really tough time getting a RA or TA position, even though I was previously an RA and had a couple publications.
Long story short, no one on the faculty was interested in working with me from the get-go and the school didn't offer TAs to 1st year students (even if they had previously been a grad student). They also don't tell you this. I was forced to get a full time job and only lasted about a year since I couldn't make any progress on my dissertation and couldn't take the courses I wanted to take due to scheduling conflicts.
Academia burned me out (probably in part because of my FT job) so I started looking for other options. At my then current job I made it known I wanted to move into software dev. I took about 20-30 credits in CS as an undergrad, and as an RA during my MS program was my professor's programmer for the research we were doing. At my job then (which was support) there were opportunities to code so I made various tools for our platform to teach myself more OOP, and also to try and get myself noticed by management and perhaps promoted to the dev team.
After being passed up for any promotion to software dev. at that job I started applying for other positions. After 100 job applications and 6 or so terrible interviews where I couldn't answer some of their questions (e.g. "Does C# allow multiple inheritance?") I eventually answered everything right and impressed this director of development with 20 years of experience who really knew his math. I accepted their offer and was given a "software developer" job rather than a junior position, not that I necessarily deserved the title.
As a side note, that guy is a total poly-math and borderline savant. I think he actually understood math enough to see commonalities between that and CS. He was building a brand new dev team and ended up hiring an aerospace engineer, a mechanical engineer, and a space weather forecaster to be part of the development team. There was only one strictly CS guy on the team.
I attribute my success in moving to a new career path to the following :
1. I had previous CS knowledge from course-work
2. I was basically a programmer when I was an RA
3. I started brushing up on software dev where I could
4. After interviews, I went home and researched every question asked of me
5. I actually have a passion for programming, I just applied it towards scientific computing since I also really like math
6. I got lucky that I was interviewed by the right person
3-6 I weight higher than 1 and 2.
6 months later I was offered a position that doubled my salary. I would not have been offered that had I not already been working as a developer, and also had I not had a MS. They needed someone for "big data" and I am guessing my math background helped. They had developers, what they didn't have was someone that knew enough math. To this day we get people using mean as a measure of center on our non-normal data. No-one even thinks about looking at distributions. That is really basic, but that is only one small example of the math/stats fails I notice and try to fix.
TL;DR; I had a similar thing happen to me. I suggest applying for jobs, as interviews can help identify what you need to work on. Eventually you will know enough from identifying and rectifying your weaknesses that you will impress the right person. Brush up on software dev by working on something. It can even be something like a tool library containing all the cryptography algorithms you know. Stick it up on github and try to get a software developer to review it and give feedback. | I had something similar happen. I was in a PhD program for applied mathematics. I made the dumb mistake of transferring schools after my MS program and had a really tough time getting a RA or TA position, even though I was previously an RA and had a couple publications.
Long story short, no one on the faculty was interested in working with me from the get-go and the school didn't offer TAs to 1st year students (even if they had previously been a grad student). They also don't tell you this. I was forced to get a full time job and only lasted about a year since I couldn't make any progress on my dissertation and couldn't take the courses I wanted to take due to scheduling conflicts.
Academia burned me out (probably in part because of my FT job) so I started looking for other options. At my then current job I made it known I wanted to move into software dev. I took about 20-30 credits in CS as an undergrad, and as an RA during my MS program was my professor's programmer for the research we were doing. At my job then (which was support) there were opportunities to code so I made various tools for our platform to teach myself more OOP, and also to try and get myself noticed by management and perhaps promoted to the dev team.
After being passed up for any promotion to software dev. at that job I started applying for other positions. After 100 job applications and 6 or so terrible interviews where I couldn't answer some of their questions (e.g. "Does C# allow multiple inheritance?") I eventually answered everything right and impressed this director of development with 20 years of experience who really knew his math. I accepted their offer and was given a "software developer" job rather than a junior position, not that I necessarily deserved the title.
As a side note, that guy is a total poly-math and borderline savant. I think he actually understood math enough to see commonalities between that and CS. He was building a brand new dev team and ended up hiring an aerospace engineer, a mechanical engineer, and a space weather forecaster to be part of the development team. There was only one strictly CS guy on the team.
I attribute my success in moving to a new career path to the following :
I had previous CS knowledge from course-work
I was basically a programmer when I was an RA
I started brushing up on software dev where I could
After interviews, I went home and researched every question asked of me
I actually have a passion for programming, I just applied it towards scientific computing since I also really like math
I got lucky that I was interviewed by the right person
3-6 I weight higher than 1 and 2.
6 months later I was offered a position that doubled my salary. I would not have been offered that had I not already been working as a developer, and also had I not had a MS. They needed someone for "big data" and I am guessing my math background helped. They had developers, what they didn't have was someone that knew enough math. To this day we get people using mean as a measure of center on our non-normal data. No-one even thinks about looking at distributions. That is really basic, but that is only one small example of the math/stats fails I notice and try to fix.
TL;DR; I had a similar thing happen to me. I suggest applying for jobs, as interviews can help identify what you need to work on. Eventually you will know enough from identifying and rectifying your weaknesses that you will impress the right person. Brush up on software dev by working on something. It can even be something like a tool library containing all the cryptography algorithms you know. Stick it up on github and try to get a software developer to review it and give feedback.
| cscareerquestions | t5_2sdpm | cc88eim | I had something similar happen. I was in a PhD program for applied mathematics. I made the dumb mistake of transferring schools after my MS program and had a really tough time getting a RA or TA position, even though I was previously an RA and had a couple publications.
Long story short, no one on the faculty was interested in working with me from the get-go and the school didn't offer TAs to 1st year students (even if they had previously been a grad student). They also don't tell you this. I was forced to get a full time job and only lasted about a year since I couldn't make any progress on my dissertation and couldn't take the courses I wanted to take due to scheduling conflicts.
Academia burned me out (probably in part because of my FT job) so I started looking for other options. At my then current job I made it known I wanted to move into software dev. I took about 20-30 credits in CS as an undergrad, and as an RA during my MS program was my professor's programmer for the research we were doing. At my job then (which was support) there were opportunities to code so I made various tools for our platform to teach myself more OOP, and also to try and get myself noticed by management and perhaps promoted to the dev team.
After being passed up for any promotion to software dev. at that job I started applying for other positions. After 100 job applications and 6 or so terrible interviews where I couldn't answer some of their questions (e.g. "Does C# allow multiple inheritance?") I eventually answered everything right and impressed this director of development with 20 years of experience who really knew his math. I accepted their offer and was given a "software developer" job rather than a junior position, not that I necessarily deserved the title.
As a side note, that guy is a total poly-math and borderline savant. I think he actually understood math enough to see commonalities between that and CS. He was building a brand new dev team and ended up hiring an aerospace engineer, a mechanical engineer, and a space weather forecaster to be part of the development team. There was only one strictly CS guy on the team.
I attribute my success in moving to a new career path to the following :
I had previous CS knowledge from course-work
I was basically a programmer when I was an RA
I started brushing up on software dev where I could
After interviews, I went home and researched every question asked of me
I actually have a passion for programming, I just applied it towards scientific computing since I also really like math
I got lucky that I was interviewed by the right person
3-6 I weight higher than 1 and 2.
6 months later I was offered a position that doubled my salary. I would not have been offered that had I not already been working as a developer, and also had I not had a MS. They needed someone for "big data" and I am guessing my math background helped. They had developers, what they didn't have was someone that knew enough math. To this day we get people using mean as a measure of center on our non-normal data. No-one even thinks about looking at distributions. That is really basic, but that is only one small example of the math/stats fails I notice and try to fix. | I had a similar thing happen to me. I suggest applying for jobs, as interviews can help identify what you need to work on. Eventually you will know enough from identifying and rectifying your weaknesses that you will impress the right person. Brush up on software dev by working on something. It can even be something like a tool library containing all the cryptography algorithms you know. Stick it up on github and try to get a software developer to review it and give feedback. |
sparkydoomscat | Well it comes with a myriad of side effects and can be treated medically. Smoking may not be a disease but lung cancer is. Eating may not be a disease but being obese is.
Tl;dr you're wrong | Well it comes with a myriad of side effects and can be treated medically. Smoking may not be a disease but lung cancer is. Eating may not be a disease but being obese is.
Tl;dr you're wrong
| changemyview | t5_2w2s8 | cc81a94 | Well it comes with a myriad of side effects and can be treated medically. Smoking may not be a disease but lung cancer is. Eating may not be a disease but being obese is. | you're wrong |
14Gigaparsecs | While I partially agree with OP (I’m not sure obesity should be considered a disease, it seems to be more of a symptom), I feel like he's making a mistake in the initial assertion “obese people are so by choice”, which is what I would like to address. In the US there is a direct correlation between poverty and obesity. It isn’t simply a choice when you’re in an economic position where you can’t afford to buy healthy foods.
[This]( article by the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition published in 2004 highlights the relationship between people who’re poor and the kind of foods they can afford to buy. And it makes sense if you follow the logic: if you’re on food stamps and you have one dollar to spend per meal, you can buy thousands of cheap, processed, nutrient stripped calories, or you can buy fruit and vegetables which will only get you about 200 calories. According to their study:
>“There is no question that the rates of obesity and type 2 diabetes in the United States follow a socioeconomic gradient, such that the burden of disease falls disproportionately on people with limited resources, racial-ethnic minorities, and the poor (20)… Analyses of data for 68 556 US adults in the National Health Interview Survey by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention showed that the highest obesity rates were associated with the lowest incomes and low educational levels (22).”
[This]( article I found (with a simple “links between poverty and obesity” Google search) also pretty decently illustrates what I’m trying to get at. There’s a pretty clear relationship between the states that are the poorest, and the states that are the most obese, from the article:
>“The Census Bureau recently reported that the nation's poverty rate increased to 14.3 percent in 2009--the highest level we've seen since 1994. 43.6 million Americans lived below the poverty line in 2009, earning less than $21,954 per year for a family of four or $10,956 for an individual…The poorest areas of the country are also the sickest and have the highest rates of obesity, diabetes, and premature death. These people are dying younger, and life expectancy is plummeting in the poorest states. These states also happen to be the fattest. For example, Mississippi--the poorest state in the union--has poverty rates over 20 percent, obesity rates over 33 percent, and extremely high childhood obesity rates. This is no coincidence.”
So you see, a person’s socioeconomic status is a huge factor in what they can afford to eat, what kind of health-care they can receive, how much time they can spend exercising if they’re already struggling to put food on the table and pay the rent, etc.
TL;DR There are a myriad of problems poorer people face when it comes to their health and obesity, so saying that 90% of people are obese by choice seems akin to blaming the victim for an ascribed status that they have little-to-no control over.
Edit: Formatting & Grammar | While I partially agree with OP (I’m not sure obesity should be considered a disease, it seems to be more of a symptom), I feel like he's making a mistake in the initial assertion “obese people are so by choice”, which is what I would like to address. In the US there is a direct correlation between poverty and obesity. It isn’t simply a choice when you’re in an economic position where you can’t afford to buy healthy foods.
This … Analyses of data for 68 556 US adults in the National Health Interview Survey by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention showed that the highest obesity rates were associated with the lowest incomes and low educational levels (22).”
This also pretty decently illustrates what I’m trying to get at. There’s a pretty clear relationship between the states that are the poorest, and the states that are the most obese, from the article:
>“The Census Bureau recently reported that the nation's poverty rate increased to 14.3 percent in 2009--the highest level we've seen since 1994. 43.6 million Americans lived below the poverty line in 2009, earning less than $21,954 per year for a family of four or $10,956 for an individual…The poorest areas of the country are also the sickest and have the highest rates of obesity, diabetes, and premature death. These people are dying younger, and life expectancy is plummeting in the poorest states. These states also happen to be the fattest. For example, Mississippi--the poorest state in the union--has poverty rates over 20 percent, obesity rates over 33 percent, and extremely high childhood obesity rates. This is no coincidence.”
So you see, a person’s socioeconomic status is a huge factor in what they can afford to eat, what kind of health-care they can receive, how much time they can spend exercising if they’re already struggling to put food on the table and pay the rent, etc.
TL;DR There are a myriad of problems poorer people face when it comes to their health and obesity, so saying that 90% of people are obese by choice seems akin to blaming the victim for an ascribed status that they have little-to-no control over.
Edit: Formatting & Grammar
| changemyview | t5_2w2s8 | cc88j0f | While I partially agree with OP (I’m not sure obesity should be considered a disease, it seems to be more of a symptom), I feel like he's making a mistake in the initial assertion “obese people are so by choice”, which is what I would like to address. In the US there is a direct correlation between poverty and obesity. It isn’t simply a choice when you’re in an economic position where you can’t afford to buy healthy foods.
This … Analyses of data for 68 556 US adults in the National Health Interview Survey by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention showed that the highest obesity rates were associated with the lowest incomes and low educational levels (22).”
This also pretty decently illustrates what I’m trying to get at. There’s a pretty clear relationship between the states that are the poorest, and the states that are the most obese, from the article:
>“The Census Bureau recently reported that the nation's poverty rate increased to 14.3 percent in 2009--the highest level we've seen since 1994. 43.6 million Americans lived below the poverty line in 2009, earning less than $21,954 per year for a family of four or $10,956 for an individual…The poorest areas of the country are also the sickest and have the highest rates of obesity, diabetes, and premature death. These people are dying younger, and life expectancy is plummeting in the poorest states. These states also happen to be the fattest. For example, Mississippi--the poorest state in the union--has poverty rates over 20 percent, obesity rates over 33 percent, and extremely high childhood obesity rates. This is no coincidence.”
So you see, a person’s socioeconomic status is a huge factor in what they can afford to eat, what kind of health-care they can receive, how much time they can spend exercising if they’re already struggling to put food on the table and pay the rent, etc. | There are a myriad of problems poorer people face when it comes to their health and obesity, so saying that 90% of people are obese by choice seems akin to blaming the victim for an ascribed status that they have little-to-no control over.
Edit: Formatting & Grammar |
sassycatty | >A disease is an abnormal condition that affects the body of an organism.
If we are linked obesity to a disease than are bodybuilders diseased as well? Same EXACT situation between obesity and bodybuilding. Both choose how to look that way. Both are also "abnormal" (both are pretty damn common though to be honestly). I don't think obesity is a disease. I also don't think pizza is a vegetable. I think it's a cop out/excuse. More than 99% of the population could lose weight if they wanted to. I can't just magically get rid of cancer/AIDS and I think it is an insult to people who actually have real diseases.
TLDR: Obesity can be avoided 99.99% of the time with some exercise and dieting. | >A disease is an abnormal condition that affects the body of an organism.
If we are linked obesity to a disease than are bodybuilders diseased as well? Same EXACT situation between obesity and bodybuilding. Both choose how to look that way. Both are also "abnormal" (both are pretty damn common though to be honestly). I don't think obesity is a disease. I also don't think pizza is a vegetable. I think it's a cop out/excuse. More than 99% of the population could lose weight if they wanted to. I can't just magically get rid of cancer/AIDS and I think it is an insult to people who actually have real diseases.
TLDR: Obesity can be avoided 99.99% of the time with some exercise and dieting.
| changemyview | t5_2w2s8 | cc8bbqm | A disease is an abnormal condition that affects the body of an organism.
If we are linked obesity to a disease than are bodybuilders diseased as well? Same EXACT situation between obesity and bodybuilding. Both choose how to look that way. Both are also "abnormal" (both are pretty damn common though to be honestly). I don't think obesity is a disease. I also don't think pizza is a vegetable. I think it's a cop out/excuse. More than 99% of the population could lose weight if they wanted to. I can't just magically get rid of cancer/AIDS and I think it is an insult to people who actually have real diseases. | Obesity can be avoided 99.99% of the time with some exercise and dieting. |
DrLats | What you're describing is something called metabolic typing. Metabolic typing is based around the idea that no person is the same in their nutritional needs and balances. In order for these needs to be met, specific ratios (parts) of macronutrients (the three large nutrients that make up the food you eat) must be used.
Back to what you said: If our ancestors ate these foods, in order to be healthy should we do the same? While some people may have different opinions, I believe this is true. But there are two problems when we try eating what our ancestors ate. For one, most of that food in it's most natural form doesn't exist or we can't get this food. The second reason is that in this age we are capable of large amounts of traveling. People across the world have moved to different countries and now call different places their home. This makes one big melting pot of all kinds of races. After a while, it becomes extremely hard to trace ancestry or pick from your possible 3 different races in your blood.
If you could properly trace your ancestry and access the food they ate you may see a big difference in how you look and feel. The simple way to do this is try different amounts of fat, carbs, and protein in your diet until you feel you find a healthy balance.
TL;DR: Yes it's great to eat what your ancestors ate but it usually doesn't exist or isn't available. You are better off finding out if you run better off of more fat, more carbs, more protein, or a mix of all of them. | What you're describing is something called metabolic typing. Metabolic typing is based around the idea that no person is the same in their nutritional needs and balances. In order for these needs to be met, specific ratios (parts) of macronutrients (the three large nutrients that make up the food you eat) must be used.
Back to what you said: If our ancestors ate these foods, in order to be healthy should we do the same? While some people may have different opinions, I believe this is true. But there are two problems when we try eating what our ancestors ate. For one, most of that food in it's most natural form doesn't exist or we can't get this food. The second reason is that in this age we are capable of large amounts of traveling. People across the world have moved to different countries and now call different places their home. This makes one big melting pot of all kinds of races. After a while, it becomes extremely hard to trace ancestry or pick from your possible 3 different races in your blood.
If you could properly trace your ancestry and access the food they ate you may see a big difference in how you look and feel. The simple way to do this is try different amounts of fat, carbs, and protein in your diet until you feel you find a healthy balance.
TL;DR: Yes it's great to eat what your ancestors ate but it usually doesn't exist or isn't available. You are better off finding out if you run better off of more fat, more carbs, more protein, or a mix of all of them.
| explainlikeimfive | t5_2sokd | cc868e0 | What you're describing is something called metabolic typing. Metabolic typing is based around the idea that no person is the same in their nutritional needs and balances. In order for these needs to be met, specific ratios (parts) of macronutrients (the three large nutrients that make up the food you eat) must be used.
Back to what you said: If our ancestors ate these foods, in order to be healthy should we do the same? While some people may have different opinions, I believe this is true. But there are two problems when we try eating what our ancestors ate. For one, most of that food in it's most natural form doesn't exist or we can't get this food. The second reason is that in this age we are capable of large amounts of traveling. People across the world have moved to different countries and now call different places their home. This makes one big melting pot of all kinds of races. After a while, it becomes extremely hard to trace ancestry or pick from your possible 3 different races in your blood.
If you could properly trace your ancestry and access the food they ate you may see a big difference in how you look and feel. The simple way to do this is try different amounts of fat, carbs, and protein in your diet until you feel you find a healthy balance. | Yes it's great to eat what your ancestors ate but it usually doesn't exist or isn't available. You are better off finding out if you run better off of more fat, more carbs, more protein, or a mix of all of them. |
theconstipator | Read the graphic novel "Marvels." It tells the story of a regular, non super-man living in the MU and how he views the birth of superheroes. The way its narrated-the way you can see the way people in the MU think-it gives a great explanation to why "muties" are discriminated. Its all around the way the media portrayed them. In some panels you could see what anchormen on the TV were saying and headlines of newspapers talking about mutants. People in the MU were told that mutants were not humans. They have scary powers and the evil ones could kill you in a second. Also, at the start of the first X-men movie, where Jean Grey is talking to congress about mutant registration. The way Senator Kelly talks about mutants really shows you why people are scared of them. He highlights the most powerful ones and says something like "what if they used these abilities to enter someones home, or rob a bank?" You can understand how scared you would be if you didn't know about the X-men and shit.
**TL;DR**: Its not really discrimination so much as fear. Civilians in the MU know that any level 2 or higher mutant could probably kill them and thats why they dislike them. You're more likely to befriend someone without a gun than THE EXCACT SAME PERSON with a gun, aren't you? | Read the graphic novel "Marvels." It tells the story of a regular, non super-man living in the MU and how he views the birth of superheroes. The way its narrated-the way you can see the way people in the MU think-it gives a great explanation to why "muties" are discriminated. Its all around the way the media portrayed them. In some panels you could see what anchormen on the TV were saying and headlines of newspapers talking about mutants. People in the MU were told that mutants were not humans. They have scary powers and the evil ones could kill you in a second. Also, at the start of the first X-men movie, where Jean Grey is talking to congress about mutant registration. The way Senator Kelly talks about mutants really shows you why people are scared of them. He highlights the most powerful ones and says something like "what if they used these abilities to enter someones home, or rob a bank?" You can understand how scared you would be if you didn't know about the X-men and shit.
TL;DR : Its not really discrimination so much as fear. Civilians in the MU know that any level 2 or higher mutant could probably kill them and thats why they dislike them. You're more likely to befriend someone without a gun than THE EXCACT SAME PERSON with a gun, aren't you?
| changemyview | t5_2w2s8 | cc9cv4o | Read the graphic novel "Marvels." It tells the story of a regular, non super-man living in the MU and how he views the birth of superheroes. The way its narrated-the way you can see the way people in the MU think-it gives a great explanation to why "muties" are discriminated. Its all around the way the media portrayed them. In some panels you could see what anchormen on the TV were saying and headlines of newspapers talking about mutants. People in the MU were told that mutants were not humans. They have scary powers and the evil ones could kill you in a second. Also, at the start of the first X-men movie, where Jean Grey is talking to congress about mutant registration. The way Senator Kelly talks about mutants really shows you why people are scared of them. He highlights the most powerful ones and says something like "what if they used these abilities to enter someones home, or rob a bank?" You can understand how scared you would be if you didn't know about the X-men and shit. | Its not really discrimination so much as fear. Civilians in the MU know that any level 2 or higher mutant could probably kill them and thats why they dislike them. You're more likely to befriend someone without a gun than THE EXCACT SAME PERSON with a gun, aren't you? |
Broken_Goat | Generally the person who is found at fault, their insurance pays for everything. Then if you want you have the ability to sue the person themselves for damages, which alot of people do.
When I got flipped, the woman was drunk and texting. Her insurance totaled my car, but you have the ability to keep the car minus scrap value and get the amount it was worth at the time of the accident. I got $900. (would have been 1100 but car was only worth 200 in scrap) Then her insurance company covered my medical expenses which were minimal and gave me another 500 to close the case. So, all in all I made out well since my car had minimal damage and I was fine, I dumped the money I got into the car, new rims to replace the damaged one, new tires, etc.
As far as them fixing you if its your fault...they still cover you, but your insurance will go up. (pay more per month etc)
I personally dont have any kind of health insurance, Ive been to the hospital several times this year for health issues and basically I fill out my information, where I live, how much I make, etc and they send the bill to me in about a week. Its crazy expensive and totally stupid. I had a kidney stone and the guy literally walked in, said its most likely a kidney stone, here's a prescription, drink alot of water and rest. Entire time waiting for him? 45 minutes. Length of conversation? 3. Bill? $500!!!!
If you dont pay it, (I dont, shame shame w/e) they just take it out of your state tax refund at the end of the year. No idea if it messes up credit, I never use credit for anything so I'll probably never know.
TL:DR if your gonna get hurt in the US, make sure someone hurts you so their insurance will cover it. | Generally the person who is found at fault, their insurance pays for everything. Then if you want you have the ability to sue the person themselves for damages, which alot of people do.
When I got flipped, the woman was drunk and texting. Her insurance totaled my car, but you have the ability to keep the car minus scrap value and get the amount it was worth at the time of the accident. I got $900. (would have been 1100 but car was only worth 200 in scrap) Then her insurance company covered my medical expenses which were minimal and gave me another 500 to close the case. So, all in all I made out well since my car had minimal damage and I was fine, I dumped the money I got into the car, new rims to replace the damaged one, new tires, etc.
As far as them fixing you if its your fault...they still cover you, but your insurance will go up. (pay more per month etc)
I personally dont have any kind of health insurance, Ive been to the hospital several times this year for health issues and basically I fill out my information, where I live, how much I make, etc and they send the bill to me in about a week. Its crazy expensive and totally stupid. I had a kidney stone and the guy literally walked in, said its most likely a kidney stone, here's a prescription, drink alot of water and rest. Entire time waiting for him? 45 minutes. Length of conversation? 3. Bill? $500!!!!
If you dont pay it, (I dont, shame shame w/e) they just take it out of your state tax refund at the end of the year. No idea if it messes up credit, I never use credit for anything so I'll probably never know.
TL:DR if your gonna get hurt in the US, make sure someone hurts you so their insurance will cover it.
| cars | t5_2qhl2 | cc9bpd6 | Generally the person who is found at fault, their insurance pays for everything. Then if you want you have the ability to sue the person themselves for damages, which alot of people do.
When I got flipped, the woman was drunk and texting. Her insurance totaled my car, but you have the ability to keep the car minus scrap value and get the amount it was worth at the time of the accident. I got $900. (would have been 1100 but car was only worth 200 in scrap) Then her insurance company covered my medical expenses which were minimal and gave me another 500 to close the case. So, all in all I made out well since my car had minimal damage and I was fine, I dumped the money I got into the car, new rims to replace the damaged one, new tires, etc.
As far as them fixing you if its your fault...they still cover you, but your insurance will go up. (pay more per month etc)
I personally dont have any kind of health insurance, Ive been to the hospital several times this year for health issues and basically I fill out my information, where I live, how much I make, etc and they send the bill to me in about a week. Its crazy expensive and totally stupid. I had a kidney stone and the guy literally walked in, said its most likely a kidney stone, here's a prescription, drink alot of water and rest. Entire time waiting for him? 45 minutes. Length of conversation? 3. Bill? $500!!!!
If you dont pay it, (I dont, shame shame w/e) they just take it out of your state tax refund at the end of the year. No idea if it messes up credit, I never use credit for anything so I'll probably never know. | if your gonna get hurt in the US, make sure someone hurts you so their insurance will cover it. |
IBelongInAKitchen | The split with my daughter's father. We were (probably still are) young and stupid. I got pregnant and told him I wouldn't have an abortion because I wasn't comfortable doing so under the circumstances. But I told him he had the option to be involved, or not to be, and that that was entirely his choice.
So we tried to work it out. He asked me for commitment to him, and I agreed. We got a place together, and he even brought up marrying me a few times. We both have good jobs and were able to pay all our rent and bills no problem. But... I wasn't the housewife he wanted. And I didn't want to be a housewife/stay at home mom.
Not long after moving in together, things became incredibly strained. He was a big drinker, and we got into a handful of arguments while he was drunk. He didn't kiss or hug me when he came home from work if I was there. He'd barely even speak to me. Previously things had been great.
So I brought it up one night and it caused us to break up and I moved back out. He told me he didn't have the motivation to love me. That he didn't feel that way about me anymore. Then when we began discussing custody, he showed less and less desire to be involved. My family was broken before my daughter was even born. I felt like complete and total shit because I couldn't keep my family together.
I still feel like shit for it. Every day that I see her beautiful little face so eager to learn and explore and full of smiles, I feel terrible that her father has never met the sweetest child in the world, and that he has thus far missed every milestone, smile, laugh, tear, head boop and so on. But I mostly feel bad for her, and dread answering, "Where is my daddy? Why don't I have a daddy?" one day. I just hope she understands one day that I'm doing everything I possibly can to be the best mom, and dad, that I can be.
Tl;dr My family being broken before it was even complete. | The split with my daughter's father. We were (probably still are) young and stupid. I got pregnant and told him I wouldn't have an abortion because I wasn't comfortable doing so under the circumstances. But I told him he had the option to be involved, or not to be, and that that was entirely his choice.
So we tried to work it out. He asked me for commitment to him, and I agreed. We got a place together, and he even brought up marrying me a few times. We both have good jobs and were able to pay all our rent and bills no problem. But... I wasn't the housewife he wanted. And I didn't want to be a housewife/stay at home mom.
Not long after moving in together, things became incredibly strained. He was a big drinker, and we got into a handful of arguments while he was drunk. He didn't kiss or hug me when he came home from work if I was there. He'd barely even speak to me. Previously things had been great.
So I brought it up one night and it caused us to break up and I moved back out. He told me he didn't have the motivation to love me. That he didn't feel that way about me anymore. Then when we began discussing custody, he showed less and less desire to be involved. My family was broken before my daughter was even born. I felt like complete and total shit because I couldn't keep my family together.
I still feel like shit for it. Every day that I see her beautiful little face so eager to learn and explore and full of smiles, I feel terrible that her father has never met the sweetest child in the world, and that he has thus far missed every milestone, smile, laugh, tear, head boop and so on. But I mostly feel bad for her, and dread answering, "Where is my daddy? Why don't I have a daddy?" one day. I just hope she understands one day that I'm doing everything I possibly can to be the best mom, and dad, that I can be.
Tl;dr My family being broken before it was even complete.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc8izqd | The split with my daughter's father. We were (probably still are) young and stupid. I got pregnant and told him I wouldn't have an abortion because I wasn't comfortable doing so under the circumstances. But I told him he had the option to be involved, or not to be, and that that was entirely his choice.
So we tried to work it out. He asked me for commitment to him, and I agreed. We got a place together, and he even brought up marrying me a few times. We both have good jobs and were able to pay all our rent and bills no problem. But... I wasn't the housewife he wanted. And I didn't want to be a housewife/stay at home mom.
Not long after moving in together, things became incredibly strained. He was a big drinker, and we got into a handful of arguments while he was drunk. He didn't kiss or hug me when he came home from work if I was there. He'd barely even speak to me. Previously things had been great.
So I brought it up one night and it caused us to break up and I moved back out. He told me he didn't have the motivation to love me. That he didn't feel that way about me anymore. Then when we began discussing custody, he showed less and less desire to be involved. My family was broken before my daughter was even born. I felt like complete and total shit because I couldn't keep my family together.
I still feel like shit for it. Every day that I see her beautiful little face so eager to learn and explore and full of smiles, I feel terrible that her father has never met the sweetest child in the world, and that he has thus far missed every milestone, smile, laugh, tear, head boop and so on. But I mostly feel bad for her, and dread answering, "Where is my daddy? Why don't I have a daddy?" one day. I just hope she understands one day that I'm doing everything I possibly can to be the best mom, and dad, that I can be. | My family being broken before it was even complete. |
xSARGEx117x | I built a rhino recently and by level 6, I had maxed out iron skin, so I could outlast nearly everyone in the defense missions I'd join. If people judged my ability to play based on my conclave score, I'd never get accepted in a game (not with a score like that at least) and yet, I lasted 30 waves on Outer Terminus with a level 6 Rhino, and a low-level Strun Wraith.
TL;DR - I would rather let someone prove their worth than assume they won't do well. | I built a rhino recently and by level 6, I had maxed out iron skin, so I could outlast nearly everyone in the defense missions I'd join. If people judged my ability to play based on my conclave score, I'd never get accepted in a game (not with a score like that at least) and yet, I lasted 30 waves on Outer Terminus with a level 6 Rhino, and a low-level Strun Wraith.
TL;DR - I would rather let someone prove their worth than assume they won't do well.
| Warframe | t5_2urg0 | cc8wj4o | I built a rhino recently and by level 6, I had maxed out iron skin, so I could outlast nearly everyone in the defense missions I'd join. If people judged my ability to play based on my conclave score, I'd never get accepted in a game (not with a score like that at least) and yet, I lasted 30 waves on Outer Terminus with a level 6 Rhino, and a low-level Strun Wraith. | I would rather let someone prove their worth than assume they won't do well. |
xSARGEx117x | I have a rhino that I use for most things except high-level grineer or corpus defense missions. When I was level 10 or so I had maxed iron skin and stomp (not maxed). On Outer Terminus (running to level up rhino) all 3 of my teammates were down. I pulled out Stomp and revived them all while using Iron Skin. It may not be the best frame out there for kills from abilities, But I'd rather have one on my team than fail the mission. Not every frame can pull that off.
While Nova may have a huge AOE ult, it still requires you to kill something, which isn't always easy.
I do like my Nova, and my Frost Prime, but I think Rhino will continue to be my primary frame for now. I just don't go down very often while using it, whereas with Frost/nova, I'd go down with a single hit from a railgun moa, despite my boosted shields/health.
TL;DR - rhino isn't the best out there, but still high on my list. | I have a rhino that I use for most things except high-level grineer or corpus defense missions. When I was level 10 or so I had maxed iron skin and stomp (not maxed). On Outer Terminus (running to level up rhino) all 3 of my teammates were down. I pulled out Stomp and revived them all while using Iron Skin. It may not be the best frame out there for kills from abilities, But I'd rather have one on my team than fail the mission. Not every frame can pull that off.
While Nova may have a huge AOE ult, it still requires you to kill something, which isn't always easy.
I do like my Nova, and my Frost Prime, but I think Rhino will continue to be my primary frame for now. I just don't go down very often while using it, whereas with Frost/nova, I'd go down with a single hit from a railgun moa, despite my boosted shields/health.
TL;DR - rhino isn't the best out there, but still high on my list.
| Warframe | t5_2urg0 | cc8wvbw | I have a rhino that I use for most things except high-level grineer or corpus defense missions. When I was level 10 or so I had maxed iron skin and stomp (not maxed). On Outer Terminus (running to level up rhino) all 3 of my teammates were down. I pulled out Stomp and revived them all while using Iron Skin. It may not be the best frame out there for kills from abilities, But I'd rather have one on my team than fail the mission. Not every frame can pull that off.
While Nova may have a huge AOE ult, it still requires you to kill something, which isn't always easy.
I do like my Nova, and my Frost Prime, but I think Rhino will continue to be my primary frame for now. I just don't go down very often while using it, whereas with Frost/nova, I'd go down with a single hit from a railgun moa, despite my boosted shields/health. | rhino isn't the best out there, but still high on my list. |
dubloe7 | One time I was working night shift at a NOC and all of a sudden I couldn't access the internet, but most of my job related tools worked. I did some poking around and I could get to pages, but not
Since our admin wasn't there in the middle of the night, and I didn't have access to most of the network so I couldn't fix the problem, I simply downloaded TOR real quick so I could actually do my job.
Two weeks later, it happens again. I fire up TOR and I'm not able to get a connection. Then the next day a company wide email goes out about not using proxies to bypass filters or whatever.
TL;DR company's network goes partially down, I use a proxy so I can do my job, I get yelled at for using a proxy. | One time I was working night shift at a NOC and all of a sudden I couldn't access the internet, but most of my job related tools worked. I did some poking around and I could get to pages, but not
Since our admin wasn't there in the middle of the night, and I didn't have access to most of the network so I couldn't fix the problem, I simply downloaded TOR real quick so I could actually do my job.
Two weeks later, it happens again. I fire up TOR and I'm not able to get a connection. Then the next day a company wide email goes out about not using proxies to bypass filters or whatever.
TL;DR company's network goes partially down, I use a proxy so I can do my job, I get yelled at for using a proxy.
| LifeProTips | t5_2s5oq | cc8tghh | One time I was working night shift at a NOC and all of a sudden I couldn't access the internet, but most of my job related tools worked. I did some poking around and I could get to pages, but not
Since our admin wasn't there in the middle of the night, and I didn't have access to most of the network so I couldn't fix the problem, I simply downloaded TOR real quick so I could actually do my job.
Two weeks later, it happens again. I fire up TOR and I'm not able to get a connection. Then the next day a company wide email goes out about not using proxies to bypass filters or whatever. | company's network goes partially down, I use a proxy so I can do my job, I get yelled at for using a proxy. |
Lokani | The local ISP at my apartment complex decided to start blocking websites. I asked why, they said it was to stop the paperwork for illegal filesharing.
Half of the torrent sites I checked were fine.
They blocked Pirate Bay, obviously, but they also blocked:
* Google Translate
* Google Cache
* Random file hosting sites (a good portion weren't blocked)
* Anything to do with proxies or VPNs
Luckily it seems they realized how fucking idiotic they were after a week. They also shut down our port for having DHCP on our router. That went away with the website blocking.
tl;dr sometimes it's necessary to skirt policy because the policy is only there because of incompetent people. I actually hope the ISP got huge backlash (I was sure to make my voice heard) and the idiot who decided it was a good idea got shitcanned. | The local ISP at my apartment complex decided to start blocking websites. I asked why, they said it was to stop the paperwork for illegal filesharing.
Half of the torrent sites I checked were fine.
They blocked Pirate Bay, obviously, but they also blocked:
Google Translate
Google Cache
Random file hosting sites (a good portion weren't blocked)
Anything to do with proxies or VPNs
Luckily it seems they realized how fucking idiotic they were after a week. They also shut down our port for having DHCP on our router. That went away with the website blocking.
tl;dr sometimes it's necessary to skirt policy because the policy is only there because of incompetent people. I actually hope the ISP got huge backlash (I was sure to make my voice heard) and the idiot who decided it was a good idea got shitcanned.
| LifeProTips | t5_2s5oq | cc8uopl | The local ISP at my apartment complex decided to start blocking websites. I asked why, they said it was to stop the paperwork for illegal filesharing.
Half of the torrent sites I checked were fine.
They blocked Pirate Bay, obviously, but they also blocked:
Google Translate
Google Cache
Random file hosting sites (a good portion weren't blocked)
Anything to do with proxies or VPNs
Luckily it seems they realized how fucking idiotic they were after a week. They also shut down our port for having DHCP on our router. That went away with the website blocking. | sometimes it's necessary to skirt policy because the policy is only there because of incompetent people. I actually hope the ISP got huge backlash (I was sure to make my voice heard) and the idiot who decided it was a good idea got shitcanned. |
Rancid_Bear_Meat | Totally understood. ..which is why I was specifically aiming my statement at those IT admins who do it without the mandate from the top.
It's those few, power-hungry, elitist IT douchecocks (who'd otherwise likely seek employment as a Mall Cop) who ruin the perception of 'IT guys' in general.
TL;DR: Most IT guys are chill and just want to help others, but a few controlling pricks fuck it up for the rest. | Totally understood. ..which is why I was specifically aiming my statement at those IT admins who do it without the mandate from the top.
It's those few, power-hungry, elitist IT douchecocks (who'd otherwise likely seek employment as a Mall Cop) who ruin the perception of 'IT guys' in general.
TL;DR: Most IT guys are chill and just want to help others, but a few controlling pricks fuck it up for the rest.
| LifeProTips | t5_2s5oq | cc8zaf7 | Totally understood. ..which is why I was specifically aiming my statement at those IT admins who do it without the mandate from the top.
It's those few, power-hungry, elitist IT douchecocks (who'd otherwise likely seek employment as a Mall Cop) who ruin the perception of 'IT guys' in general. | Most IT guys are chill and just want to help others, but a few controlling pricks fuck it up for the rest. |
Rancid_Bear_Meat | This is where I'll have to disagree with you friend.. I've seen these pricks get entrenched and advance their position for years and across multiple companies.
I'm also not talking about the desktop/'on the ground' noble IT dudes; I'm speaking about those few JERK network/server admins who's shitty decisions affect the whole company rather than the user individually.
Also, if you can find an IT dept where you get promoted from delivering a laptop a little quicker -STICK WITH THEM, cause that's relatively rare occurrence in my experience. IT is often a department FILLED with people who are taken for granted.. You can 'deliver the goods' all-day-all-night and no one will notice until something stops working; like a light bulb. ..oh, and when you burn out; you're simply replaced.
TL;DR: IT is for masochists. | This is where I'll have to disagree with you friend.. I've seen these pricks get entrenched and advance their position for years and across multiple companies.
I'm also not talking about the desktop/'on the ground' noble IT dudes; I'm speaking about those few JERK network/server admins who's shitty decisions affect the whole company rather than the user individually.
Also, if you can find an IT dept where you get promoted from delivering a laptop a little quicker -STICK WITH THEM, cause that's relatively rare occurrence in my experience. IT is often a department FILLED with people who are taken for granted.. You can 'deliver the goods' all-day-all-night and no one will notice until something stops working; like a light bulb. ..oh, and when you burn out; you're simply replaced.
TL;DR: IT is for masochists.
| LifeProTips | t5_2s5oq | cc8zit9 | This is where I'll have to disagree with you friend.. I've seen these pricks get entrenched and advance their position for years and across multiple companies.
I'm also not talking about the desktop/'on the ground' noble IT dudes; I'm speaking about those few JERK network/server admins who's shitty decisions affect the whole company rather than the user individually.
Also, if you can find an IT dept where you get promoted from delivering a laptop a little quicker -STICK WITH THEM, cause that's relatively rare occurrence in my experience. IT is often a department FILLED with people who are taken for granted.. You can 'deliver the goods' all-day-all-night and no one will notice until something stops working; like a light bulb. ..oh, and when you burn out; you're simply replaced. | IT is for masochists. |
spacezoro | Squid proxy is your friend. Couple that with putty,and you are good. Or use hamachi for easy setup. If you want to not get caught, I advise running the proxy on port 443 (or whichever port handles SSL/ traffic), then tunneling with SSL, into your proxy at your house. To them,all it looks like is extra traffic, which schools use often for grade books, schedules,exc.(or at least I hope.) When it is actually your proxy.
TL;Dr: Set up proxy at home, hide it to look like other traffic,and win. | Squid proxy is your friend. Couple that with putty,and you are good. Or use hamachi for easy setup. If you want to not get caught, I advise running the proxy on port 443 (or whichever port handles SSL/ traffic), then tunneling with SSL, into your proxy at your house. To them,all it looks like is extra traffic, which schools use often for grade books, schedules,exc.(or at least I hope.) When it is actually your proxy.
TL;Dr: Set up proxy at home, hide it to look like other traffic,and win.
| LifeProTips | t5_2s5oq | cc91leg | Squid proxy is your friend. Couple that with putty,and you are good. Or use hamachi for easy setup. If you want to not get caught, I advise running the proxy on port 443 (or whichever port handles SSL/ traffic), then tunneling with SSL, into your proxy at your house. To them,all it looks like is extra traffic, which schools use often for grade books, schedules,exc.(or at least I hope.) When it is actually your proxy. | Set up proxy at home, hide it to look like other traffic,and win. |
spacezoro | Sorry, I guess my reddit app was acting squirrly. As for translating the technomumbojumbo, Download squid proxy, get hamachi VPN, link your VPN to the proxy,run proxy at home, set proxy to use port 443.
VPN- Virtual private network. Think of it like a tunnel through a mountain. While most traffic would go over the mountain, you go through it, bypassing the mountain.
Proxy server- A server you connect to that handles traffic for you. For example, I tell Bob to tell Sarah hello. Bob tells Sarah hello, and Sarah tells Bob to tell me hi. Bob tell me hi, and I never talk to Sarah, because of Bob. To the network, it looks like I only talked to bob.
Diagram
Me(user)<------->Bob(proxy)<---------->Sarah(site I want to go to)
In reality, I never talk to Sarah.
Port 443: The internet and other services networked on ports. These ports can handle traffic,or certain protocols (like FTP,HTML,SSL), which go to certain ports. Port 443 handles SSL traffic( the traffic banks use,exc.). To a school, port 443 handles all encrypted traffic.
Tl;Dr: Ports handle protocols that are used for certain things.
Hope I helped explain things!
| Sorry, I guess my reddit app was acting squirrly. As for translating the technomumbojumbo, Download squid proxy, get hamachi VPN, link your VPN to the proxy,run proxy at home, set proxy to use port 443.
VPN- Virtual private network. Think of it like a tunnel through a mountain. While most traffic would go over the mountain, you go through it, bypassing the mountain.
Proxy server- A server you connect to that handles traffic for you. For example, I tell Bob to tell Sarah hello. Bob tells Sarah hello, and Sarah tells Bob to tell me hi. Bob tell me hi, and I never talk to Sarah, because of Bob. To the network, it looks like I only talked to bob.
Diagram
Me(user)<------->Bob(proxy)<---------->Sarah(site I want to go to)
In reality, I never talk to Sarah.
Port 443: The internet and other services networked on ports. These ports can handle traffic,or certain protocols (like FTP,HTML,SSL), which go to certain ports. Port 443 handles SSL traffic( the traffic banks use,exc.). To a school, port 443 handles all encrypted traffic.
Tl;Dr: Ports handle protocols that are used for certain things.
Hope I helped explain things!
| LifeProTips | t5_2s5oq | cc92dv0 | Sorry, I guess my reddit app was acting squirrly. As for translating the technomumbojumbo, Download squid proxy, get hamachi VPN, link your VPN to the proxy,run proxy at home, set proxy to use port 443.
VPN- Virtual private network. Think of it like a tunnel through a mountain. While most traffic would go over the mountain, you go through it, bypassing the mountain.
Proxy server- A server you connect to that handles traffic for you. For example, I tell Bob to tell Sarah hello. Bob tells Sarah hello, and Sarah tells Bob to tell me hi. Bob tell me hi, and I never talk to Sarah, because of Bob. To the network, it looks like I only talked to bob.
Diagram
Me(user)<------->Bob(proxy)<---------->Sarah(site I want to go to)
In reality, I never talk to Sarah.
Port 443: The internet and other services networked on ports. These ports can handle traffic,or certain protocols (like FTP,HTML,SSL), which go to certain ports. Port 443 handles SSL traffic( the traffic banks use,exc.). To a school, port 443 handles all encrypted traffic. | Ports handle protocols that are used for certain things.
Hope I helped explain things! |
estrangedeskimo | Happened just last night actually, thought it was hilarious.
My gf's dad has always grown up believing he was a "Jr." (as in, same name as his dad). This year for Thanksgiving, they are all flying on a trip together, and he is ordering the plane tickets. Well, last night, my gf gets a call from her grandmother, saying that before her dad gets the tickets, he should know that his dad's name isn't what he always thought it was. My gf's dad's middle name is "Robert", his dad's middle name is "Roberts", so technically, a different name. My gf didn't know this, her dad didn't know this, her grandmother didn't even know this. When asked why he never told anyone, he said simply "I like the name Robert better."
Tl;Dr: Girlfriend's dad didn't know his own father's name, or his own name for that matter. | Happened just last night actually, thought it was hilarious.
My gf's dad has always grown up believing he was a "Jr." (as in, same name as his dad). This year for Thanksgiving, they are all flying on a trip together, and he is ordering the plane tickets. Well, last night, my gf gets a call from her grandmother, saying that before her dad gets the tickets, he should know that his dad's name isn't what he always thought it was. My gf's dad's middle name is "Robert", his dad's middle name is "Roberts", so technically, a different name. My gf didn't know this, her dad didn't know this, her grandmother didn't even know this. When asked why he never told anyone, he said simply "I like the name Robert better."
Tl;Dr: Girlfriend's dad didn't know his own father's name, or his own name for that matter.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc8wgr5 | Happened just last night actually, thought it was hilarious.
My gf's dad has always grown up believing he was a "Jr." (as in, same name as his dad). This year for Thanksgiving, they are all flying on a trip together, and he is ordering the plane tickets. Well, last night, my gf gets a call from her grandmother, saying that before her dad gets the tickets, he should know that his dad's name isn't what he always thought it was. My gf's dad's middle name is "Robert", his dad's middle name is "Roberts", so technically, a different name. My gf didn't know this, her dad didn't know this, her grandmother didn't even know this. When asked why he never told anyone, he said simply "I like the name Robert better." | Girlfriend's dad didn't know his own father's name, or his own name for that matter. |
WineWednesday | I know no one will see this but whatever. 10th grade. girl I know invites me over to her house. first time i ever tasted alcohol
*we get in trouble at the liquor store. dude threatens us with a gun, apologizes (?) and makes it up to us by buying us hypnotic
*get back to girl's house, other girl makes me drink 50% orange soda 50% orange bicardi, had no idea the implications of this much alcohol even tho these girls were 2 years older than me
*dizzy by 10pm
*throw up on table while cool popular friends eat Chinese food
*get carried to bathroom, too drunk to sit up and throw up into toilette so they put me in the tub
*crush brings me a sprite with ice
*"friend" smells my throwup and gets so grossed out she throws up on me
*have to change me outta my clothes, make fun of me for the "sexy" underwear I'm wearing
*wake up on the bathroom FLOOR with different clothes on, go to sleep in friend's bathroom, they tell me how idiotic I am for giving the party a "lame vibe"
*Go home, mom knows I'm hungover, wants to teach me a lesson about consequences so doesn't say anything, lets me deal with the hangover myself so I know that shit sucks when you drink
*Next day at school they tell me the party was found out and it was my fault they got in trouble and my mom is a bitch (even though she told NO ONE)
*Recovering alcoholic now
tldr; Jenna, if you're reading this, go fuck yourself you washed up cunt | I know no one will see this but whatever. 10th grade. girl I know invites me over to her house. first time i ever tasted alcohol
*we get in trouble at the liquor store. dude threatens us with a gun, apologizes (?) and makes it up to us by buying us hypnotic
*get back to girl's house, other girl makes me drink 50% orange soda 50% orange bicardi, had no idea the implications of this much alcohol even tho these girls were 2 years older than me
*dizzy by 10pm
*throw up on table while cool popular friends eat Chinese food
*get carried to bathroom, too drunk to sit up and throw up into toilette so they put me in the tub
*crush brings me a sprite with ice
*"friend" smells my throwup and gets so grossed out she throws up on me
*have to change me outta my clothes, make fun of me for the "sexy" underwear I'm wearing
*wake up on the bathroom FLOOR with different clothes on, go to sleep in friend's bathroom, they tell me how idiotic I am for giving the party a "lame vibe"
*Go home, mom knows I'm hungover, wants to teach me a lesson about consequences so doesn't say anything, lets me deal with the hangover myself so I know that shit sucks when you drink
*Next day at school they tell me the party was found out and it was my fault they got in trouble and my mom is a bitch (even though she told NO ONE)
*Recovering alcoholic now
tldr; Jenna, if you're reading this, go fuck yourself you washed up cunt
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc938hx | I know no one will see this but whatever. 10th grade. girl I know invites me over to her house. first time i ever tasted alcohol
*we get in trouble at the liquor store. dude threatens us with a gun, apologizes (?) and makes it up to us by buying us hypnotic
*get back to girl's house, other girl makes me drink 50% orange soda 50% orange bicardi, had no idea the implications of this much alcohol even tho these girls were 2 years older than me
*dizzy by 10pm
*throw up on table while cool popular friends eat Chinese food
*get carried to bathroom, too drunk to sit up and throw up into toilette so they put me in the tub
*crush brings me a sprite with ice
*"friend" smells my throwup and gets so grossed out she throws up on me
*have to change me outta my clothes, make fun of me for the "sexy" underwear I'm wearing
*wake up on the bathroom FLOOR with different clothes on, go to sleep in friend's bathroom, they tell me how idiotic I am for giving the party a "lame vibe"
*Go home, mom knows I'm hungover, wants to teach me a lesson about consequences so doesn't say anything, lets me deal with the hangover myself so I know that shit sucks when you drink
*Next day at school they tell me the party was found out and it was my fault they got in trouble and my mom is a bitch (even though she told NO ONE)
*Recovering alcoholic now | Jenna, if you're reading this, go fuck yourself you washed up cunt |
TH3KARMACHARGER | My fever dream.
Every time I get sick or am getting sick I have the same dream. I go about my day as usual, Get up, shower brush my teeth, Etc...... But at some point I hear in booming tones RELEASE THE KRAKEN and it pops out of something.
Getting the mail - Package from RELEASE THE KRAKEN
Pouring the cereal - Release the kraken O's
Going to work - Release the kraken is a purchasable object
TL;DR - Fever dream involves Kraken | My fever dream.
Every time I get sick or am getting sick I have the same dream. I go about my day as usual, Get up, shower brush my teeth, Etc...... But at some point I hear in booming tones RELEASE THE KRAKEN and it pops out of something.
Getting the mail - Package from RELEASE THE KRAKEN
Pouring the cereal - Release the kraken O's
Going to work - Release the kraken is a purchasable object
TL;DR - Fever dream involves Kraken
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96592 | My fever dream.
Every time I get sick or am getting sick I have the same dream. I go about my day as usual, Get up, shower brush my teeth, Etc...... But at some point I hear in booming tones RELEASE THE KRAKEN and it pops out of something.
Getting the mail - Package from RELEASE THE KRAKEN
Pouring the cereal - Release the kraken O's
Going to work - Release the kraken is a purchasable object | Fever dream involves Kraken |
pr0fess0r | In the early nineties I fell off a cliff and consequently won a car on New Zealand's version of Wheel of Fortune.
I'd been running down a cliff side with some friends, we were heading down to a beach to watch the yearly regatta at Auckland's North Head.
Now, with a steep slippery slope you can run down pretty fast and make it OK (all my friends did). Not me, I slipped and fell 6 feet and ended up sitting on the sand, winded. My back was killing me so I couldn't stand up, so I had to crawl after my friends, who all disappeared to avoid embarrassment, as the beach was packed with thousands of people - a widening of circle of which began to notice me and cracked up, laughing.
A few months later I applied for New Zealand's Wheel of Fortune and during the interview I told them my cliff story. On the application form, I didn't know what answer to give to the question "what are you most afraid of?" so I wrote "being seen naked" (I actually have no problem with that lol).
So they snapped me up for the show almost instantly, which is rare, and the host introduced my by saying "Our first contestant tonight works the graveyard shift for a BP Petrol Station. He fears being seen naked, and he feels that his life is a catalog of disasters. He once fell off a cliff"
Embarrassing. But I got him back by using words he couldn't pronounce "can I have an f for floccinaucinihilipilification please Phil" "I'll have an e for erythrocyte" and ended up being the winner of that show and taking home the grand prize of the Mitsubishi Lancer GL
Here's a Youtube link for proof (I couldnt upload the whole ep so I edited together the highlights): [Winning the car on Wheel of Fortune (NZ)](
tl;dr I once fell off a cliff and consequently won a car on New Zealand's Wheel of Fortune | In the early nineties I fell off a cliff and consequently won a car on New Zealand's version of Wheel of Fortune.
I'd been running down a cliff side with some friends, we were heading down to a beach to watch the yearly regatta at Auckland's North Head.
Now, with a steep slippery slope you can run down pretty fast and make it OK (all my friends did). Not me, I slipped and fell 6 feet and ended up sitting on the sand, winded. My back was killing me so I couldn't stand up, so I had to crawl after my friends, who all disappeared to avoid embarrassment, as the beach was packed with thousands of people - a widening of circle of which began to notice me and cracked up, laughing.
A few months later I applied for New Zealand's Wheel of Fortune and during the interview I told them my cliff story. On the application form, I didn't know what answer to give to the question "what are you most afraid of?" so I wrote "being seen naked" (I actually have no problem with that lol).
So they snapped me up for the show almost instantly, which is rare, and the host introduced my by saying "Our first contestant tonight works the graveyard shift for a BP Petrol Station. He fears being seen naked, and he feels that his life is a catalog of disasters. He once fell off a cliff"
Embarrassing. But I got him back by using words he couldn't pronounce "can I have an f for floccinaucinihilipilification please Phil" "I'll have an e for erythrocyte" and ended up being the winner of that show and taking home the grand prize of the Mitsubishi Lancer GL
Here's a Youtube link for proof (I couldnt upload the whole ep so I edited together the highlights): [Winning the car on Wheel of Fortune (NZ)](
tl;dr I once fell off a cliff and consequently won a car on New Zealand's Wheel of Fortune
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc97pmi | In the early nineties I fell off a cliff and consequently won a car on New Zealand's version of Wheel of Fortune.
I'd been running down a cliff side with some friends, we were heading down to a beach to watch the yearly regatta at Auckland's North Head.
Now, with a steep slippery slope you can run down pretty fast and make it OK (all my friends did). Not me, I slipped and fell 6 feet and ended up sitting on the sand, winded. My back was killing me so I couldn't stand up, so I had to crawl after my friends, who all disappeared to avoid embarrassment, as the beach was packed with thousands of people - a widening of circle of which began to notice me and cracked up, laughing.
A few months later I applied for New Zealand's Wheel of Fortune and during the interview I told them my cliff story. On the application form, I didn't know what answer to give to the question "what are you most afraid of?" so I wrote "being seen naked" (I actually have no problem with that lol).
So they snapped me up for the show almost instantly, which is rare, and the host introduced my by saying "Our first contestant tonight works the graveyard shift for a BP Petrol Station. He fears being seen naked, and he feels that his life is a catalog of disasters. He once fell off a cliff"
Embarrassing. But I got him back by using words he couldn't pronounce "can I have an f for floccinaucinihilipilification please Phil" "I'll have an e for erythrocyte" and ended up being the winner of that show and taking home the grand prize of the Mitsubishi Lancer GL
Here's a Youtube link for proof (I couldnt upload the whole ep so I edited together the highlights): [Winning the car on Wheel of Fortune (NZ)]( | I once fell off a cliff and consequently won a car on New Zealand's Wheel of Fortune |
GodModeGaren | My grandpa tells the story of the time he worked at knott's berry farms and he was a rancher in charge of the burros there for burro rides. Part of this job is cutting the burros balls off so that they are tamer and they way this process works is you tie the burro down, then with no morphine open up it's sack clamp a ball, cut it, clamp the other, cut it, sew it up.
Now there was a guy working there who had bs'd his way into the job. Lied about past expierience and such. "ever castrated a burro?" "yes of course". So this guy gets down to buisness, and he does everything right. Ties the legs to the burro cuts open the sack all that. But then he makes a big mistake. He takes the clamp and grabs both balls. Of course the more expierienced ranchers just sit back and watch while they laugh to themselves but then the burro gets its legs free, gets one leg caught on the clamp and kicks down. That poor fucker ripped both of his balls all the way out. The ranchers are all laughing there asses off at this guy but this burro, this crazy burro who is more of a man than I, goes and lays with 3 females right after pulling his balls out.
Now I don't know how much of that is true but I think it's fucking hilarious
TL;DR Donkey rips his balls out so that he can bang chicks. | My grandpa tells the story of the time he worked at knott's berry farms and he was a rancher in charge of the burros there for burro rides. Part of this job is cutting the burros balls off so that they are tamer and they way this process works is you tie the burro down, then with no morphine open up it's sack clamp a ball, cut it, clamp the other, cut it, sew it up.
Now there was a guy working there who had bs'd his way into the job. Lied about past expierience and such. "ever castrated a burro?" "yes of course". So this guy gets down to buisness, and he does everything right. Ties the legs to the burro cuts open the sack all that. But then he makes a big mistake. He takes the clamp and grabs both balls. Of course the more expierienced ranchers just sit back and watch while they laugh to themselves but then the burro gets its legs free, gets one leg caught on the clamp and kicks down. That poor fucker ripped both of his balls all the way out. The ranchers are all laughing there asses off at this guy but this burro, this crazy burro who is more of a man than I, goes and lays with 3 females right after pulling his balls out.
Now I don't know how much of that is true but I think it's fucking hilarious
TL;DR Donkey rips his balls out so that he can bang chicks.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc997y7 | My grandpa tells the story of the time he worked at knott's berry farms and he was a rancher in charge of the burros there for burro rides. Part of this job is cutting the burros balls off so that they are tamer and they way this process works is you tie the burro down, then with no morphine open up it's sack clamp a ball, cut it, clamp the other, cut it, sew it up.
Now there was a guy working there who had bs'd his way into the job. Lied about past expierience and such. "ever castrated a burro?" "yes of course". So this guy gets down to buisness, and he does everything right. Ties the legs to the burro cuts open the sack all that. But then he makes a big mistake. He takes the clamp and grabs both balls. Of course the more expierienced ranchers just sit back and watch while they laugh to themselves but then the burro gets its legs free, gets one leg caught on the clamp and kicks down. That poor fucker ripped both of his balls all the way out. The ranchers are all laughing there asses off at this guy but this burro, this crazy burro who is more of a man than I, goes and lays with 3 females right after pulling his balls out.
Now I don't know how much of that is true but I think it's fucking hilarious | Donkey rips his balls out so that he can bang chicks. |
no_no_NO_okay | I really should have stopped reading this after I read the TL;DR. My balls hurt now. | I really should have stopped reading this after I read the TL;DR. My balls hurt now.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc9b9a0 | I really should have stopped reading this after I read the | My balls hurt now. |
solidsoulja | I came home one day from work and my mum told me she had left me a surprise upstairs. I ran upstairs in anticipation of getting some kind of great gift. I didn't get a gift as such. I walked in my room to find around 50 black socks laid out on my bed, to go with this there was a note that simply read "Chris, please stop blowing your nose on your socks, Love mum"
TL;DR - Mum caught my wanking socks and laid them out on my bed! | I came home one day from work and my mum told me she had left me a surprise upstairs. I ran upstairs in anticipation of getting some kind of great gift. I didn't get a gift as such. I walked in my room to find around 50 black socks laid out on my bed, to go with this there was a note that simply read "Chris, please stop blowing your nose on your socks, Love mum"
TL;DR - Mum caught my wanking socks and laid them out on my bed!
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc9gjfa | I came home one day from work and my mum told me she had left me a surprise upstairs. I ran upstairs in anticipation of getting some kind of great gift. I didn't get a gift as such. I walked in my room to find around 50 black socks laid out on my bed, to go with this there was a note that simply read "Chris, please stop blowing your nose on your socks, Love mum" | Mum caught my wanking socks and laid them out on my bed! |
moleman127 | In college, I had to write a story about the Pelops, an ancient Greek who started the Olympics (as one myth tells it). I get to studying, there's not much on Wikipedia, but I find some good books and get the job done. A week after turning in the paper, I get an email from the professor saying I plagiarized the whole thing off Wikipedia. The thing was I had updated the Wikipedia page and was caught plagiarizing myself. I just showed him my work and was let off the hook
TL;DR-was caught plagiarizing myself from Wikipedia | In college, I had to write a story about the Pelops, an ancient Greek who started the Olympics (as one myth tells it). I get to studying, there's not much on Wikipedia, but I find some good books and get the job done. A week after turning in the paper, I get an email from the professor saying I plagiarized the whole thing off Wikipedia. The thing was I had updated the Wikipedia page and was caught plagiarizing myself. I just showed him my work and was let off the hook
TL;DR-was caught plagiarizing myself from Wikipedia
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc902yg | In college, I had to write a story about the Pelops, an ancient Greek who started the Olympics (as one myth tells it). I get to studying, there's not much on Wikipedia, but I find some good books and get the job done. A week after turning in the paper, I get an email from the professor saying I plagiarized the whole thing off Wikipedia. The thing was I had updated the Wikipedia page and was caught plagiarizing myself. I just showed him my work and was let off the hook | was caught plagiarizing myself from Wikipedia |
istara | Yes, I'm struggling to perceive the "twist" to this anecdote:
>A rumor spread that she was slutty and into anal sex.
> All of the guys she slept with wanted the same thing: doggystyle anal. So that basically became her booty call. "Hey, you wanna have sex?" -- "Nah, I'm busy." -- "You wanna f me in the a?" -- "Sure, OK."
tl;dr: girl who like anal sex gets tattoo on ass and has lots of anal sex. | Yes, I'm struggling to perceive the "twist" to this anecdote:
>A rumor spread that she was slutty and into anal sex.
> All of the guys she slept with wanted the same thing: doggystyle anal. So that basically became her booty call. "Hey, you wanna have sex?" -- "Nah, I'm busy." -- "You wanna f me in the a?" -- "Sure, OK."
tl;dr: girl who like anal sex gets tattoo on ass and has lots of anal sex.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96n5t | Yes, I'm struggling to perceive the "twist" to this anecdote:
>A rumor spread that she was slutty and into anal sex.
> All of the guys she slept with wanted the same thing: doggystyle anal. So that basically became her booty call. "Hey, you wanna have sex?" -- "Nah, I'm busy." -- "You wanna f me in the a?" -- "Sure, OK." | girl who like anal sex gets tattoo on ass and has lots of anal sex. |
beartuxedo | The craziest party I've ever been to:
In high school, I had a buddy who hung out with older kids who lived in the nearby big city. Being from the suburbs, I took every chance I could to hang out with him and his city friends because its cool, right?
Anyway, we get to a rave, and it's a mattress/lamp factory. The first floor had hundreds of lamps just laying around and the second floor had some squatters who took all the old mattresses and laid them out and lined the walls with them, essentially making a mattress room. The DJ was a large hairy and greasy fat man playing tech-house and it was basically a haven for people on drugs to drink and roll around on dirty mattresses. Eventually, some chick passes out in front of the DJ table, and the fat man gets down and starts humping her; while this was happening I decided to see what was behind these two doors on the far side of the room. I open door one to see a girl on her knees seemingly blowing a dude, did a double take and saw she was actually blowing a line off his dick. Then, because I was young and stupid, I decided to open door two, only to find about 4-5 mostly naked people having an orgy, or just rolling around together naked. Eventually, as the night went on, someone found a can of lighter fluid, which belonged to some of the people who lived there to start hobo fires (bonfire in a metal trashcan). In his whacked out state, he sprayed it everywhere, and among the dozens of people smoking, candles sitting around, I see my friend flick his cigarette into a can, somehow catching on fire, and then the flames growing out of the cans into the starter fluid soaked mattresses. Thankfully everyone got out safe, and we all sat outside and watched the building burn down as it started snowing.
Last I heard, the structure still stands, and I walked past there about a year ago to find new squatters living there who were in the process of turning it into a multi level skatepark
TLDR; burnt down a mattress factory rave spot to the first snow of the season with DJ greasy fat man spinnin tunes. | The craziest party I've ever been to:
In high school, I had a buddy who hung out with older kids who lived in the nearby big city. Being from the suburbs, I took every chance I could to hang out with him and his city friends because its cool, right?
Anyway, we get to a rave, and it's a mattress/lamp factory. The first floor had hundreds of lamps just laying around and the second floor had some squatters who took all the old mattresses and laid them out and lined the walls with them, essentially making a mattress room. The DJ was a large hairy and greasy fat man playing tech-house and it was basically a haven for people on drugs to drink and roll around on dirty mattresses. Eventually, some chick passes out in front of the DJ table, and the fat man gets down and starts humping her; while this was happening I decided to see what was behind these two doors on the far side of the room. I open door one to see a girl on her knees seemingly blowing a dude, did a double take and saw she was actually blowing a line off his dick. Then, because I was young and stupid, I decided to open door two, only to find about 4-5 mostly naked people having an orgy, or just rolling around together naked. Eventually, as the night went on, someone found a can of lighter fluid, which belonged to some of the people who lived there to start hobo fires (bonfire in a metal trashcan). In his whacked out state, he sprayed it everywhere, and among the dozens of people smoking, candles sitting around, I see my friend flick his cigarette into a can, somehow catching on fire, and then the flames growing out of the cans into the starter fluid soaked mattresses. Thankfully everyone got out safe, and we all sat outside and watched the building burn down as it started snowing.
Last I heard, the structure still stands, and I walked past there about a year ago to find new squatters living there who were in the process of turning it into a multi level skatepark
TLDR; burnt down a mattress factory rave spot to the first snow of the season with DJ greasy fat man spinnin tunes.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96vqb | The craziest party I've ever been to:
In high school, I had a buddy who hung out with older kids who lived in the nearby big city. Being from the suburbs, I took every chance I could to hang out with him and his city friends because its cool, right?
Anyway, we get to a rave, and it's a mattress/lamp factory. The first floor had hundreds of lamps just laying around and the second floor had some squatters who took all the old mattresses and laid them out and lined the walls with them, essentially making a mattress room. The DJ was a large hairy and greasy fat man playing tech-house and it was basically a haven for people on drugs to drink and roll around on dirty mattresses. Eventually, some chick passes out in front of the DJ table, and the fat man gets down and starts humping her; while this was happening I decided to see what was behind these two doors on the far side of the room. I open door one to see a girl on her knees seemingly blowing a dude, did a double take and saw she was actually blowing a line off his dick. Then, because I was young and stupid, I decided to open door two, only to find about 4-5 mostly naked people having an orgy, or just rolling around together naked. Eventually, as the night went on, someone found a can of lighter fluid, which belonged to some of the people who lived there to start hobo fires (bonfire in a metal trashcan). In his whacked out state, he sprayed it everywhere, and among the dozens of people smoking, candles sitting around, I see my friend flick his cigarette into a can, somehow catching on fire, and then the flames growing out of the cans into the starter fluid soaked mattresses. Thankfully everyone got out safe, and we all sat outside and watched the building burn down as it started snowing.
Last I heard, the structure still stands, and I walked past there about a year ago to find new squatters living there who were in the process of turning it into a multi level skatepark | burnt down a mattress factory rave spot to the first snow of the season with DJ greasy fat man spinnin tunes. |
runningworg | in my last year of primary school i was bullied by this one kid unrelenting (ill call him barker) to the point of me going into a depression, the next year going to a new school some reason i decided to pick on a fat kid (ducky) i know how bad it was so i wanted to inflict the punishment on someone else, on my way to torment ducky one day i saw him pick barker and thow him in the garbage bin because barker spat on his jumper, ducky walking away didnt see barker climb out of the bin and start running towards him, i was close by this point and i punched barker in the face and knocked him out, at this point ducky turned around and saw this and all he said was wow you must hate him more then me i went on to explain what he did to me the previous year and we became mates afterwards
Tl;Dr i got bullied became bully and my victim got my bully and i became friends with my victim. | in my last year of primary school i was bullied by this one kid unrelenting (ill call him barker) to the point of me going into a depression, the next year going to a new school some reason i decided to pick on a fat kid (ducky) i know how bad it was so i wanted to inflict the punishment on someone else, on my way to torment ducky one day i saw him pick barker and thow him in the garbage bin because barker spat on his jumper, ducky walking away didnt see barker climb out of the bin and start running towards him, i was close by this point and i punched barker in the face and knocked him out, at this point ducky turned around and saw this and all he said was wow you must hate him more then me i went on to explain what he did to me the previous year and we became mates afterwards
Tl;Dr i got bullied became bully and my victim got my bully and i became friends with my victim.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc9bo9y | in my last year of primary school i was bullied by this one kid unrelenting (ill call him barker) to the point of me going into a depression, the next year going to a new school some reason i decided to pick on a fat kid (ducky) i know how bad it was so i wanted to inflict the punishment on someone else, on my way to torment ducky one day i saw him pick barker and thow him in the garbage bin because barker spat on his jumper, ducky walking away didnt see barker climb out of the bin and start running towards him, i was close by this point and i punched barker in the face and knocked him out, at this point ducky turned around and saw this and all he said was wow you must hate him more then me i went on to explain what he did to me the previous year and we became mates afterwards | i got bullied became bully and my victim got my bully and i became friends with my victim. |
Getting_Frosty | Good guy commenter, putting the TL;DR at the start n.n | Good guy commenter, putting the TL;DR at the start n.n
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc9a68k | Good guy commenter, putting the | at the start n.n |
Wesman25 | In high school, I never studied except maybe the night before exams. I was taking a college physics class that was pretty difficult, but our teacher never cared what we did during class, treating us more like college students. Doing work was on you.
One day I walked into class ready to play a game, work on other class work, or just chat with my friends like I did every day. I look around and everyone is spread out. My teacher exclaims "Alright everyone, get out your calculators and a pencil. Exam day." I had no bleeping idea there was an exam and I wasn't even sure what it was over. Instead of trying to think of a way out, I knew I was screwed. His exams were difficult, there was nothing I could do. I took a seat, got a pencil and simply thought I would write expressions and equations down and hope for a 40/100 or something. I was so sure I wasn't going to do anything that day, I didn't even bring my calculator to school. Sitting there hopeless and staring at my thermodynamics exam, my professor came up to me and gave me his calculator to use since I forgot mine. "What a nice guy," I thought. "He has no clue how screwed I am."
I began the exam simply trying to guess at the math, punching in variables from the problems. There were 6 pages, each page had one big physics problem. After writing BS on each page, I actually legitimately tried to do the last problem. I messed up punching a number in the calculator, so I went back in the calculator memory to retrieve a previous number. I accidentally went back too far and saw values that the teacher must have punched in when he last used it, since it was his calculator. However, I noticed that the number that my teacher put in matched a number in the last problem on the test. I hit it again, another familiar value came up. I realized just then that my teacher had just taken the entire exam himself so he could gage how long to give his students.
Using the calculator that MY TEACHER gave me, I worked the entire test backward using the memory of the calculator. I got a 94%, missing one point on each page because I never listed the units in my answer (because I had no idea), and I set the curve.
TLDR: Walked into physics class with no clue we had an exam. My teacher let me borrow his calculator. Having just taken the exam himself to help time his students, I used my teacher's calculator's memory to work the entire test backward. I got an A and set the curve.
That was the last time I ever cheated on an exam. I chose not to take college credit for the class, retook Physics in college, and got A's.
Edit: spelling, paragraphs | In high school, I never studied except maybe the night before exams. I was taking a college physics class that was pretty difficult, but our teacher never cared what we did during class, treating us more like college students. Doing work was on you.
One day I walked into class ready to play a game, work on other class work, or just chat with my friends like I did every day. I look around and everyone is spread out. My teacher exclaims "Alright everyone, get out your calculators and a pencil. Exam day." I had no bleeping idea there was an exam and I wasn't even sure what it was over. Instead of trying to think of a way out, I knew I was screwed. His exams were difficult, there was nothing I could do. I took a seat, got a pencil and simply thought I would write expressions and equations down and hope for a 40/100 or something. I was so sure I wasn't going to do anything that day, I didn't even bring my calculator to school. Sitting there hopeless and staring at my thermodynamics exam, my professor came up to me and gave me his calculator to use since I forgot mine. "What a nice guy," I thought. "He has no clue how screwed I am."
I began the exam simply trying to guess at the math, punching in variables from the problems. There were 6 pages, each page had one big physics problem. After writing BS on each page, I actually legitimately tried to do the last problem. I messed up punching a number in the calculator, so I went back in the calculator memory to retrieve a previous number. I accidentally went back too far and saw values that the teacher must have punched in when he last used it, since it was his calculator. However, I noticed that the number that my teacher put in matched a number in the last problem on the test. I hit it again, another familiar value came up. I realized just then that my teacher had just taken the entire exam himself so he could gage how long to give his students.
Using the calculator that MY TEACHER gave me, I worked the entire test backward using the memory of the calculator. I got a 94%, missing one point on each page because I never listed the units in my answer (because I had no idea), and I set the curve.
TLDR: Walked into physics class with no clue we had an exam. My teacher let me borrow his calculator. Having just taken the exam himself to help time his students, I used my teacher's calculator's memory to work the entire test backward. I got an A and set the curve.
That was the last time I ever cheated on an exam. I chose not to take college credit for the class, retook Physics in college, and got A's.
Edit: spelling, paragraphs
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc8z5nb | In high school, I never studied except maybe the night before exams. I was taking a college physics class that was pretty difficult, but our teacher never cared what we did during class, treating us more like college students. Doing work was on you.
One day I walked into class ready to play a game, work on other class work, or just chat with my friends like I did every day. I look around and everyone is spread out. My teacher exclaims "Alright everyone, get out your calculators and a pencil. Exam day." I had no bleeping idea there was an exam and I wasn't even sure what it was over. Instead of trying to think of a way out, I knew I was screwed. His exams were difficult, there was nothing I could do. I took a seat, got a pencil and simply thought I would write expressions and equations down and hope for a 40/100 or something. I was so sure I wasn't going to do anything that day, I didn't even bring my calculator to school. Sitting there hopeless and staring at my thermodynamics exam, my professor came up to me and gave me his calculator to use since I forgot mine. "What a nice guy," I thought. "He has no clue how screwed I am."
I began the exam simply trying to guess at the math, punching in variables from the problems. There were 6 pages, each page had one big physics problem. After writing BS on each page, I actually legitimately tried to do the last problem. I messed up punching a number in the calculator, so I went back in the calculator memory to retrieve a previous number. I accidentally went back too far and saw values that the teacher must have punched in when he last used it, since it was his calculator. However, I noticed that the number that my teacher put in matched a number in the last problem on the test. I hit it again, another familiar value came up. I realized just then that my teacher had just taken the entire exam himself so he could gage how long to give his students.
Using the calculator that MY TEACHER gave me, I worked the entire test backward using the memory of the calculator. I got a 94%, missing one point on each page because I never listed the units in my answer (because I had no idea), and I set the curve. | Walked into physics class with no clue we had an exam. My teacher let me borrow his calculator. Having just taken the exam himself to help time his students, I used my teacher's calculator's memory to work the entire test backward. I got an A and set the curve.
That was the last time I ever cheated on an exam. I chose not to take college credit for the class, retook Physics in college, and got A's.
Edit: spelling, paragraphs |
BadOprah | (Posted this before but here it is again.) Shortly after graduating college, I was working in the Hollywood dredges for an agent with a roster of A-list clientele. A close college friend, "Kim", was working in New York in the camera department on the talk show circuit (Ricki Lake, Maury, Jenny Jones -- she worked on 'em all). Anyway, Kim used to call me up on her breaks and we would shoot the shit about our jobs.
One day she phones me, super freaked out. Apparently, when she had gone into work that day the security for the building (whom she had befriended) told her that Producer X had been banned from the building "for health reasons". Something sounded fishy so Kim dug around.
Well, there had been a problem with someone dropping major deuces on the toilet seats of the ladies' room. The problem was so bad that signs were posted begging the culprit to stop. The problem continued to security got involved. Security reviewed camera footage, revealing that Producer X (a man) on the talk show was sneaking into the ladies room late at night and taking poops on the seats. The producer was also in bondage gear while pooping.
Now the cameras caught the Producer X going into the bathroom in bondage gear but how did they know FOR SURE he was the one having a crap party in there? Security discovered that Producer X was posting photos of his exploits on an S&M website, which including pictures not only of him shitting in on the toilet seats, but also with his funky man junk all over people's desks. Some of the backgrounds in the pictures were identified as production offices for Kim's show, and others.
Kim then explains that, in retrospect, Producer X should have immediately been a suspect because everyone wondered why a person like that would ever come work for them. See right before Producer X worked on Kim's show, Producer X worked for [The most famous talk show hostess in the world.]
After the Producer X was outed as the pooping gimp, Kim's show called up [The most famous talk show hostess in the world]'s offices for more details about Proder's X's departure. They commented that Producer X had indeed worked for them, but refused to say why he was no longer an employee... but we know the truth.
TL/DR: Gimp in bondage gear drops a five-pound meatloaf in the offices of the most famous talk show hostess in the world. | (Posted this before but here it is again.) Shortly after graduating college, I was working in the Hollywood dredges for an agent with a roster of A-list clientele. A close college friend, "Kim", was working in New York in the camera department on the talk show circuit (Ricki Lake, Maury, Jenny Jones -- she worked on 'em all). Anyway, Kim used to call me up on her breaks and we would shoot the shit about our jobs.
One day she phones me, super freaked out. Apparently, when she had gone into work that day the security for the building (whom she had befriended) told her that Producer X had been banned from the building "for health reasons". Something sounded fishy so Kim dug around.
Well, there had been a problem with someone dropping major deuces on the toilet seats of the ladies' room. The problem was so bad that signs were posted begging the culprit to stop. The problem continued to security got involved. Security reviewed camera footage, revealing that Producer X (a man) on the talk show was sneaking into the ladies room late at night and taking poops on the seats. The producer was also in bondage gear while pooping.
Now the cameras caught the Producer X going into the bathroom in bondage gear but how did they know FOR SURE he was the one having a crap party in there? Security discovered that Producer X was posting photos of his exploits on an S&M website, which including pictures not only of him shitting in on the toilet seats, but also with his funky man junk all over people's desks. Some of the backgrounds in the pictures were identified as production offices for Kim's show, and others.
Kim then explains that, in retrospect, Producer X should have immediately been a suspect because everyone wondered why a person like that would ever come work for them. See right before Producer X worked on Kim's show, Producer X worked for [The most famous talk show hostess in the world.]
After the Producer X was outed as the pooping gimp, Kim's show called up [The most famous talk show hostess in the world]'s offices for more details about Proder's X's departure. They commented that Producer X had indeed worked for them, but refused to say why he was no longer an employee... but we know the truth.
TL/DR: Gimp in bondage gear drops a five-pound meatloaf in the offices of the most famous talk show hostess in the world.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc8zcom | Posted this before but here it is again.) Shortly after graduating college, I was working in the Hollywood dredges for an agent with a roster of A-list clientele. A close college friend, "Kim", was working in New York in the camera department on the talk show circuit (Ricki Lake, Maury, Jenny Jones -- she worked on 'em all). Anyway, Kim used to call me up on her breaks and we would shoot the shit about our jobs.
One day she phones me, super freaked out. Apparently, when she had gone into work that day the security for the building (whom she had befriended) told her that Producer X had been banned from the building "for health reasons". Something sounded fishy so Kim dug around.
Well, there had been a problem with someone dropping major deuces on the toilet seats of the ladies' room. The problem was so bad that signs were posted begging the culprit to stop. The problem continued to security got involved. Security reviewed camera footage, revealing that Producer X (a man) on the talk show was sneaking into the ladies room late at night and taking poops on the seats. The producer was also in bondage gear while pooping.
Now the cameras caught the Producer X going into the bathroom in bondage gear but how did they know FOR SURE he was the one having a crap party in there? Security discovered that Producer X was posting photos of his exploits on an S&M website, which including pictures not only of him shitting in on the toilet seats, but also with his funky man junk all over people's desks. Some of the backgrounds in the pictures were identified as production offices for Kim's show, and others.
Kim then explains that, in retrospect, Producer X should have immediately been a suspect because everyone wondered why a person like that would ever come work for them. See right before Producer X worked on Kim's show, Producer X worked for [The most famous talk show hostess in the world.]
After the Producer X was outed as the pooping gimp, Kim's show called up [The most famous talk show hostess in the world]'s offices for more details about Proder's X's departure. They commented that Producer X had indeed worked for them, but refused to say why he was no longer an employee... but we know the truth. | Gimp in bondage gear drops a five-pound meatloaf in the offices of the most famous talk show hostess in the world. |
Drunkenhobbit | One day, my father was camping in the South Downs in England. 'Twas a wet, rainy night in England, and he had no fire. His tent was blowing all over the place, and he just wanted to sleep. He suddenly heard something. Was it some hunter, sneaking around in the night? Was it an ogre of old english legend? No. It was this.
Morris dancers. These guys wander around, banging their sticks together and making a right racket. It was an old pagan festival, so these guys had to do it right where my dad was camping. They went round his tent, singing and dancing and playing music. And that, my friends, is why my Father hates Morris dancers. To this day, whenever he hears them, he remembers that wet windy night, many a year ago...
TL:DR: Morris dancers | One day, my father was camping in the South Downs in England. 'Twas a wet, rainy night in England, and he had no fire. His tent was blowing all over the place, and he just wanted to sleep. He suddenly heard something. Was it some hunter, sneaking around in the night? Was it an ogre of old english legend? No. It was this.
Morris dancers. These guys wander around, banging their sticks together and making a right racket. It was an old pagan festival, so these guys had to do it right where my dad was camping. They went round his tent, singing and dancing and playing music. And that, my friends, is why my Father hates Morris dancers. To this day, whenever he hears them, he remembers that wet windy night, many a year ago...
TL:DR: Morris dancers
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc8zmvz | One day, my father was camping in the South Downs in England. 'Twas a wet, rainy night in England, and he had no fire. His tent was blowing all over the place, and he just wanted to sleep. He suddenly heard something. Was it some hunter, sneaking around in the night? Was it an ogre of old english legend? No. It was this.
Morris dancers. These guys wander around, banging their sticks together and making a right racket. It was an old pagan festival, so these guys had to do it right where my dad was camping. They went round his tent, singing and dancing and playing music. And that, my friends, is why my Father hates Morris dancers. To this day, whenever he hears them, he remembers that wet windy night, many a year ago... | Morris dancers |
NegativecapS | When I was still living at home, my sister had a few friends come over around dinner time. They were all on the patio smoking cigarettes. I was in the kitchen making myself a salad, and one of the guys (kinda cute too, what a shame) comes into the house and quickly asks me where the bathroom is. I point him in the right direction while simultaneously remembering that I had previously depleted the supply of toilet paper in the bathroom and failed to replenish it.
It's too late.
As soon as that door slammed shut, I started to hear a symphony of farts. It was horribly intriguing. This guy was having an obvious digestive issue. The shitty noises continue for a minute or so. Then comes the fun.
I heard the fart fan turn on. In order to turn on the bathroom vent, you either need to have a 6 foot long arm, or get up off the toilet and shuffle across the bathroom to reach the switch. At this point I am giggling in the kitchen and about to lose it.
Dude-guy comes out of the bathroom a short time later. He fast walked to the front door with his head down. He asked me to tell my sister that he had to go. Then he was gone.
**TL;DR -** My sister's attractive friend came over. Violently used the restroom. There was no toilet paper. | When I was still living at home, my sister had a few friends come over around dinner time. They were all on the patio smoking cigarettes. I was in the kitchen making myself a salad, and one of the guys (kinda cute too, what a shame) comes into the house and quickly asks me where the bathroom is. I point him in the right direction while simultaneously remembering that I had previously depleted the supply of toilet paper in the bathroom and failed to replenish it.
It's too late.
As soon as that door slammed shut, I started to hear a symphony of farts. It was horribly intriguing. This guy was having an obvious digestive issue. The shitty noises continue for a minute or so. Then comes the fun.
I heard the fart fan turn on. In order to turn on the bathroom vent, you either need to have a 6 foot long arm, or get up off the toilet and shuffle across the bathroom to reach the switch. At this point I am giggling in the kitchen and about to lose it.
Dude-guy comes out of the bathroom a short time later. He fast walked to the front door with his head down. He asked me to tell my sister that he had to go. Then he was gone.
TL;DR - My sister's attractive friend came over. Violently used the restroom. There was no toilet paper.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc911dk | When I was still living at home, my sister had a few friends come over around dinner time. They were all on the patio smoking cigarettes. I was in the kitchen making myself a salad, and one of the guys (kinda cute too, what a shame) comes into the house and quickly asks me where the bathroom is. I point him in the right direction while simultaneously remembering that I had previously depleted the supply of toilet paper in the bathroom and failed to replenish it.
It's too late.
As soon as that door slammed shut, I started to hear a symphony of farts. It was horribly intriguing. This guy was having an obvious digestive issue. The shitty noises continue for a minute or so. Then comes the fun.
I heard the fart fan turn on. In order to turn on the bathroom vent, you either need to have a 6 foot long arm, or get up off the toilet and shuffle across the bathroom to reach the switch. At this point I am giggling in the kitchen and about to lose it.
Dude-guy comes out of the bathroom a short time later. He fast walked to the front door with his head down. He asked me to tell my sister that he had to go. Then he was gone. | My sister's attractive friend came over. Violently used the restroom. There was no toilet paper. |
iamanevilgenius | How 'bout a happy ending for once?
Background: My junior year, as a 'senior prank', some dumbass cut down some trees on campus. Some teachers are pushing for him to jailed on felony vandalism. Problem is, he's related to the superintendent (nephew or cousin's son). So nothing happens at all. Not even a detention. To rub it in, it is said that he wore an "I love trees" shirt at graduation.
Cue my senior year. We had four different pranks. Prank 1) to put saran wrap on benches. They didn't finish that one. 2) To get washable paint and leave handprints (and a few footprints) all over campus. To "leave our mark on campus" 3) Some people tagged along with this idea, but weren't part of the same group, and forgot to make the paint washable.
And 4) Some people who I was sort of friends with decided to chain a goat to a post outside school. Don't ask me why. I thought it was stupid, and I was against going and finding a goat. But it happened. Cue pandemonium. Teachers are up in arms about this, and the witchhunt begins. The hardass VP begins pulling everyone connected to this out of class, to question them. He, and the campus security guys, have to have pulled at least a quarter of the senior class. The teachers are in arms about it, because they want to see some punishment happen this year. Also, we have now garnered national attention, including a small article in either the NY Times or the Wall Street Journal (I forget which, think it was WSJ)
So this VP ends up suspending about 20 people, during the last week of school. They won't graduate, and will fail all their finals. They appeal, but after last year, they made a new school policy allowing him to do this. They also cast their net far to wide. The goat guys were guys, and there were less than ten of them involved total, and only 5 or so that actually tied up the goat. They ended up suspending girls as well. They even got a teacher's kid (he can't do anything because he's already unpopular with the administration, and they're looking at cutting teachers). Of course, an appeal is useless, because the suspension starts immediately and the school wants to drag its feet because the kids made it look bad.
So that's my high school's claim to fame. And the happy ending? After complaining to the district, the appeal on the grounds that the punishment, while legal under school rules, is wrong under district rules. They win, and so in July, the staff has to come back to give them finals so they don't fail. In wake of the scandal, the hard-ass VP (who isn't well liked for his hard-assed-ness, and support of other unpopular policies) resigns. So the kids don't fail, and the school looks like it's a bit nicer.
TL;DR: Some people I was kind of friends with got suspended for terrible prank during finals week, gets appealed. | How 'bout a happy ending for once?
Background: My junior year, as a 'senior prank', some dumbass cut down some trees on campus. Some teachers are pushing for him to jailed on felony vandalism. Problem is, he's related to the superintendent (nephew or cousin's son). So nothing happens at all. Not even a detention. To rub it in, it is said that he wore an "I love trees" shirt at graduation.
Cue my senior year. We had four different pranks. Prank 1) to put saran wrap on benches. They didn't finish that one. 2) To get washable paint and leave handprints (and a few footprints) all over campus. To "leave our mark on campus" 3) Some people tagged along with this idea, but weren't part of the same group, and forgot to make the paint washable.
And 4) Some people who I was sort of friends with decided to chain a goat to a post outside school. Don't ask me why. I thought it was stupid, and I was against going and finding a goat. But it happened. Cue pandemonium. Teachers are up in arms about this, and the witchhunt begins. The hardass VP begins pulling everyone connected to this out of class, to question them. He, and the campus security guys, have to have pulled at least a quarter of the senior class. The teachers are in arms about it, because they want to see some punishment happen this year. Also, we have now garnered national attention, including a small article in either the NY Times or the Wall Street Journal (I forget which, think it was WSJ)
So this VP ends up suspending about 20 people, during the last week of school. They won't graduate, and will fail all their finals. They appeal, but after last year, they made a new school policy allowing him to do this. They also cast their net far to wide. The goat guys were guys, and there were less than ten of them involved total, and only 5 or so that actually tied up the goat. They ended up suspending girls as well. They even got a teacher's kid (he can't do anything because he's already unpopular with the administration, and they're looking at cutting teachers). Of course, an appeal is useless, because the suspension starts immediately and the school wants to drag its feet because the kids made it look bad.
So that's my high school's claim to fame. And the happy ending? After complaining to the district, the appeal on the grounds that the punishment, while legal under school rules, is wrong under district rules. They win, and so in July, the staff has to come back to give them finals so they don't fail. In wake of the scandal, the hard-ass VP (who isn't well liked for his hard-assed-ness, and support of other unpopular policies) resigns. So the kids don't fail, and the school looks like it's a bit nicer.
TL;DR: Some people I was kind of friends with got suspended for terrible prank during finals week, gets appealed.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc91iee | How 'bout a happy ending for once?
Background: My junior year, as a 'senior prank', some dumbass cut down some trees on campus. Some teachers are pushing for him to jailed on felony vandalism. Problem is, he's related to the superintendent (nephew or cousin's son). So nothing happens at all. Not even a detention. To rub it in, it is said that he wore an "I love trees" shirt at graduation.
Cue my senior year. We had four different pranks. Prank 1) to put saran wrap on benches. They didn't finish that one. 2) To get washable paint and leave handprints (and a few footprints) all over campus. To "leave our mark on campus" 3) Some people tagged along with this idea, but weren't part of the same group, and forgot to make the paint washable.
And 4) Some people who I was sort of friends with decided to chain a goat to a post outside school. Don't ask me why. I thought it was stupid, and I was against going and finding a goat. But it happened. Cue pandemonium. Teachers are up in arms about this, and the witchhunt begins. The hardass VP begins pulling everyone connected to this out of class, to question them. He, and the campus security guys, have to have pulled at least a quarter of the senior class. The teachers are in arms about it, because they want to see some punishment happen this year. Also, we have now garnered national attention, including a small article in either the NY Times or the Wall Street Journal (I forget which, think it was WSJ)
So this VP ends up suspending about 20 people, during the last week of school. They won't graduate, and will fail all their finals. They appeal, but after last year, they made a new school policy allowing him to do this. They also cast their net far to wide. The goat guys were guys, and there were less than ten of them involved total, and only 5 or so that actually tied up the goat. They ended up suspending girls as well. They even got a teacher's kid (he can't do anything because he's already unpopular with the administration, and they're looking at cutting teachers). Of course, an appeal is useless, because the suspension starts immediately and the school wants to drag its feet because the kids made it look bad.
So that's my high school's claim to fame. And the happy ending? After complaining to the district, the appeal on the grounds that the punishment, while legal under school rules, is wrong under district rules. They win, and so in July, the staff has to come back to give them finals so they don't fail. In wake of the scandal, the hard-ass VP (who isn't well liked for his hard-assed-ness, and support of other unpopular policies) resigns. So the kids don't fail, and the school looks like it's a bit nicer. | Some people I was kind of friends with got suspended for terrible prank during finals week, gets appealed. |
redvelvetmock | My dad is an attorney. One of his clients is a hospital. That's all I can tell you in that regard without getting him into trouble.
Basically this woman and her husband are both raging alcoholics. The husband passes out in his car after a night of binge drinking. She finds him the next morning, calls an ambulance. He's DOA. Nothing the paramedics or the hospital could have done. So after arrangements are made for the body, does she leave the hospital? No. She wanders the halls for *four days*, barging into doctors' offices and yelling about how "_____ Hospital killed my husband!"
My dad helps the hospital get a restraining order and have her removed from the building. The next day, she starts calling everybody involved with her husband's treatment and ranting. "____ Hospital *killed my husband!*" Hospital contacts my dad, my dad contacts her and tells her that she can no longer contact the hospital by phone. She then turns her attention to my dad's office, leaving screechy, angry, drunk voicemails. He played one for me. It was fucking scary.
Finally, my dad and the hospital get the necessary paperwork and such to keep her from contacting my dad's office by phone, from contacting the hospital in any way, from contacting any of the doctors and/or paramedics who had been assigned to her husband's case. She doesn't call anyone for a few days. Everything seems peachy keen.
Until the next morning, when my dad's secretary walks into the office to find a stack of exceedingly angry handwritten letters in the fax machine.
**TL;DR: woman's alcoholic husband dies in a hospital my dad works for, she ends up drunk faxing my dad.** | My dad is an attorney. One of his clients is a hospital. That's all I can tell you in that regard without getting him into trouble.
Basically this woman and her husband are both raging alcoholics. The husband passes out in his car after a night of binge drinking. She finds him the next morning, calls an ambulance. He's DOA. Nothing the paramedics or the hospital could have done. So after arrangements are made for the body, does she leave the hospital? No. She wanders the halls for four days , barging into doctors' offices and yelling about how " _ Hospital killed my husband!"
My dad helps the hospital get a restraining order and have her removed from the building. The next day, she starts calling everybody involved with her husband's treatment and ranting. " __ Hospital killed my husband! " Hospital contacts my dad, my dad contacts her and tells her that she can no longer contact the hospital by phone. She then turns her attention to my dad's office, leaving screechy, angry, drunk voicemails. He played one for me. It was fucking scary.
Finally, my dad and the hospital get the necessary paperwork and such to keep her from contacting my dad's office by phone, from contacting the hospital in any way, from contacting any of the doctors and/or paramedics who had been assigned to her husband's case. She doesn't call anyone for a few days. Everything seems peachy keen.
Until the next morning, when my dad's secretary walks into the office to find a stack of exceedingly angry handwritten letters in the fax machine.
TL;DR: woman's alcoholic husband dies in a hospital my dad works for, she ends up drunk faxing my dad.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc9301i | My dad is an attorney. One of his clients is a hospital. That's all I can tell you in that regard without getting him into trouble.
Basically this woman and her husband are both raging alcoholics. The husband passes out in his car after a night of binge drinking. She finds him the next morning, calls an ambulance. He's DOA. Nothing the paramedics or the hospital could have done. So after arrangements are made for the body, does she leave the hospital? No. She wanders the halls for four days , barging into doctors' offices and yelling about how " _ Hospital killed my husband!"
My dad helps the hospital get a restraining order and have her removed from the building. The next day, she starts calling everybody involved with her husband's treatment and ranting. " __ Hospital killed my husband! " Hospital contacts my dad, my dad contacts her and tells her that she can no longer contact the hospital by phone. She then turns her attention to my dad's office, leaving screechy, angry, drunk voicemails. He played one for me. It was fucking scary.
Finally, my dad and the hospital get the necessary paperwork and such to keep her from contacting my dad's office by phone, from contacting the hospital in any way, from contacting any of the doctors and/or paramedics who had been assigned to her husband's case. She doesn't call anyone for a few days. Everything seems peachy keen.
Until the next morning, when my dad's secretary walks into the office to find a stack of exceedingly angry handwritten letters in the fax machine. | woman's alcoholic husband dies in a hospital my dad works for, she ends up drunk faxing my dad. |
castellar | I always had two in my backpack in case I forgot one. This also worked because other people would forget theirs. Nothing gains you more appreciation then handing someone rummaging wildly through their backpack a decent scientific calculator. It will literally bridge the gap between anyone and that person will not hate you.
tl;dr carry an extra scientific calculator too your classes | I always had two in my backpack in case I forgot one. This also worked because other people would forget theirs. Nothing gains you more appreciation then handing someone rummaging wildly through their backpack a decent scientific calculator. It will literally bridge the gap between anyone and that person will not hate you.
tl;dr carry an extra scientific calculator too your classes
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc932v5 | I always had two in my backpack in case I forgot one. This also worked because other people would forget theirs. Nothing gains you more appreciation then handing someone rummaging wildly through their backpack a decent scientific calculator. It will literally bridge the gap between anyone and that person will not hate you. | carry an extra scientific calculator too your classes |
1mdelightful | Y'all ready for some romance?
Last year I'm out at the watering hole with a buddy of mine and he's being all mopey. One of our other friends ditch us this night for a lady friend. I tell him, "look you got to be more fun and dance like that girl" I gesture to a girl another booth, she catches me toasting to her. Rather then pretend like it didn't happen I lean into it, do a little cross bar both dance. Life goes on. Later that night I run into her at the bar. It's a rather large bar its not uncommon to see someone only once in the place. We get to flirting do a little dancing because like fancy ball room with dips and shit because I enjoy that kind of thing. I leave her at the bar to find my friends bar close comes, life goes on.
Nope, that Sunday I'm at the library, I never go to the library, and low and behold there is someone I think is her I'm not sure I don't approach her as she was with her friends and I figured "remember me from the bar" was a silly idea. Life didn't go on. That wednesday my friend turned 21 so we had to out. Since most of our friends were either not going out because it was Wednesday or not 21 I was good and drunk with my good buddy. On our way out of some bar I run into her again. We had a good laugh about seeing each other in the library then carried on with our lives. As a rule, after a certain number of drinks I don't ask girls out. I was well passed that number at this time so I let her go again.
No worries though, around a week later I attended a lecture for a class I wasn't in just to hang out with my buddies on the way out of this lecture a girl on her phone walks down the stairs and turns out the door in front of us. My mind screams no fucking way!
A week or so later. I'm walking back to my apartment, after skipping a class, and this pretty girl jumps on a bike rides past me in the street. We meet eyes, first shock then humor. She's looking over her shoulder to see if its really me. I've turned around and am walking toward her to see if its really her. It in fact is. Fuck, thats how she left my life.
Is what I thought. Time passes and the weather gets warmer but its still cold winter jackets and all. I attend that lecture I spoke of earlier. On the way out Loki is one cruel motherfucker and I run into her again. This time we catch eyes and start talking. First its small talk about our hilarious relationship. Then I push on and learn a little about her and share a little about me. We hit it off. I ask her out. She says no.
No boyfriend, no girlfriend, just no. She seemed genuinely sorry to turn me down. Thats life right? No thats your life, this is my life. See I figured it was because she was about to graduate in a month and a half so she didn't want to start anything. At leasts thats how I got to sleep at night.
Summer comes I work toward my degree, economics, life is pretty good. Then comes my bestfriend's 21st birthday. At this point it is important to know when we go out Imdelightful is liable to chase women rather than stick with the group. That night, I told myself its not about me. No matter what I won't let a woman hi-jack this night. To this Loki said, "Challenge accepted." There are a few instances that night of girls I had vague interest in at the time tried to tempt me. This soldier carried on. Then Loki tried the girl I was absolutely totally in love with in high school. Not even this derailed our buddy night. Then depression set in.
We head upstairs in this bar see. We are having a good time on the dance floor. I'm dancing with one of our friends he's dancing with his girlfriend all are having a good time. That is until I need to go to the toilet. Of course there is a line for the toilet and guess who is waiting in line. Yup! Her again.
We start talking, she doesn't remember my name but she remember me. First I flirt then I cut to the chase and ask her why she said no. At this point her friend comes over and tries to pull the whole get this creepy guy away from friend routine. This doesn't work, she tells her friend she has to talk to me and to go a way. I ask her if I wasn't pretty enough for her. (its much more charming in person than reddit) She says no, social cues tell me she found me attractive. So she tells me the story about her just getting out of some serious relationship that hurt her deeply and she couldn't be involved with that again any time soon. In fact that boy was at the bar, surely there was more to her story. After a little pushing for just 1 date, I, as gracefully as I can, accept this explanation. I wish her the best luck out there and leave to find my friends. Who at this point left me in the bar with her.
At this point, I figured that had to be the last of it. She was just in town for her friends birthday and my luck had run out. I'm the luckiest dude on earth I'll tell you. Last Saturday, September 7, I'm out on the town with 5 beautiful women and some other dude I'd never met before. It's a good time. We decide to pop into this bar I believe I have been in twice before. We get ID'd walk in the door and low and behold there she is. We chit chat, turns out she's doing an extra year. So we go through our little routine. I ask her if she's ready she says no. She gets away.
That shook me up a bit more than I expected. After all she is essentially a stranger I recognize on the street. Speaking of recognizing her on street. I saw her yesterday. Walking to the cafe in the after noon I decide to stop and watch the street artist do his thing. I look across the crescent of people and there she was. We meet each others gaze, smile and just watch the performance. When it finished she went back to her life and I went back to mine.
TL;DR: Girl doesn't believe in fairytales...yet. | Y'all ready for some romance?
Last year I'm out at the watering hole with a buddy of mine and he's being all mopey. One of our other friends ditch us this night for a lady friend. I tell him, "look you got to be more fun and dance like that girl" I gesture to a girl another booth, she catches me toasting to her. Rather then pretend like it didn't happen I lean into it, do a little cross bar both dance. Life goes on. Later that night I run into her at the bar. It's a rather large bar its not uncommon to see someone only once in the place. We get to flirting do a little dancing because like fancy ball room with dips and shit because I enjoy that kind of thing. I leave her at the bar to find my friends bar close comes, life goes on.
Nope, that Sunday I'm at the library, I never go to the library, and low and behold there is someone I think is her I'm not sure I don't approach her as she was with her friends and I figured "remember me from the bar" was a silly idea. Life didn't go on. That wednesday my friend turned 21 so we had to out. Since most of our friends were either not going out because it was Wednesday or not 21 I was good and drunk with my good buddy. On our way out of some bar I run into her again. We had a good laugh about seeing each other in the library then carried on with our lives. As a rule, after a certain number of drinks I don't ask girls out. I was well passed that number at this time so I let her go again.
No worries though, around a week later I attended a lecture for a class I wasn't in just to hang out with my buddies on the way out of this lecture a girl on her phone walks down the stairs and turns out the door in front of us. My mind screams no fucking way!
A week or so later. I'm walking back to my apartment, after skipping a class, and this pretty girl jumps on a bike rides past me in the street. We meet eyes, first shock then humor. She's looking over her shoulder to see if its really me. I've turned around and am walking toward her to see if its really her. It in fact is. Fuck, thats how she left my life.
Is what I thought. Time passes and the weather gets warmer but its still cold winter jackets and all. I attend that lecture I spoke of earlier. On the way out Loki is one cruel motherfucker and I run into her again. This time we catch eyes and start talking. First its small talk about our hilarious relationship. Then I push on and learn a little about her and share a little about me. We hit it off. I ask her out. She says no.
No boyfriend, no girlfriend, just no. She seemed genuinely sorry to turn me down. Thats life right? No thats your life, this is my life. See I figured it was because she was about to graduate in a month and a half so she didn't want to start anything. At leasts thats how I got to sleep at night.
Summer comes I work toward my degree, economics, life is pretty good. Then comes my bestfriend's 21st birthday. At this point it is important to know when we go out Imdelightful is liable to chase women rather than stick with the group. That night, I told myself its not about me. No matter what I won't let a woman hi-jack this night. To this Loki said, "Challenge accepted." There are a few instances that night of girls I had vague interest in at the time tried to tempt me. This soldier carried on. Then Loki tried the girl I was absolutely totally in love with in high school. Not even this derailed our buddy night. Then depression set in.
We head upstairs in this bar see. We are having a good time on the dance floor. I'm dancing with one of our friends he's dancing with his girlfriend all are having a good time. That is until I need to go to the toilet. Of course there is a line for the toilet and guess who is waiting in line. Yup! Her again.
We start talking, she doesn't remember my name but she remember me. First I flirt then I cut to the chase and ask her why she said no. At this point her friend comes over and tries to pull the whole get this creepy guy away from friend routine. This doesn't work, she tells her friend she has to talk to me and to go a way. I ask her if I wasn't pretty enough for her. (its much more charming in person than reddit) She says no, social cues tell me she found me attractive. So she tells me the story about her just getting out of some serious relationship that hurt her deeply and she couldn't be involved with that again any time soon. In fact that boy was at the bar, surely there was more to her story. After a little pushing for just 1 date, I, as gracefully as I can, accept this explanation. I wish her the best luck out there and leave to find my friends. Who at this point left me in the bar with her.
At this point, I figured that had to be the last of it. She was just in town for her friends birthday and my luck had run out. I'm the luckiest dude on earth I'll tell you. Last Saturday, September 7, I'm out on the town with 5 beautiful women and some other dude I'd never met before. It's a good time. We decide to pop into this bar I believe I have been in twice before. We get ID'd walk in the door and low and behold there she is. We chit chat, turns out she's doing an extra year. So we go through our little routine. I ask her if she's ready she says no. She gets away.
That shook me up a bit more than I expected. After all she is essentially a stranger I recognize on the street. Speaking of recognizing her on street. I saw her yesterday. Walking to the cafe in the after noon I decide to stop and watch the street artist do his thing. I look across the crescent of people and there she was. We meet each others gaze, smile and just watch the performance. When it finished she went back to her life and I went back to mine.
TL;DR: Girl doesn't believe in fairytales...yet.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc93ukd | Y'all ready for some romance?
Last year I'm out at the watering hole with a buddy of mine and he's being all mopey. One of our other friends ditch us this night for a lady friend. I tell him, "look you got to be more fun and dance like that girl" I gesture to a girl another booth, she catches me toasting to her. Rather then pretend like it didn't happen I lean into it, do a little cross bar both dance. Life goes on. Later that night I run into her at the bar. It's a rather large bar its not uncommon to see someone only once in the place. We get to flirting do a little dancing because like fancy ball room with dips and shit because I enjoy that kind of thing. I leave her at the bar to find my friends bar close comes, life goes on.
Nope, that Sunday I'm at the library, I never go to the library, and low and behold there is someone I think is her I'm not sure I don't approach her as she was with her friends and I figured "remember me from the bar" was a silly idea. Life didn't go on. That wednesday my friend turned 21 so we had to out. Since most of our friends were either not going out because it was Wednesday or not 21 I was good and drunk with my good buddy. On our way out of some bar I run into her again. We had a good laugh about seeing each other in the library then carried on with our lives. As a rule, after a certain number of drinks I don't ask girls out. I was well passed that number at this time so I let her go again.
No worries though, around a week later I attended a lecture for a class I wasn't in just to hang out with my buddies on the way out of this lecture a girl on her phone walks down the stairs and turns out the door in front of us. My mind screams no fucking way!
A week or so later. I'm walking back to my apartment, after skipping a class, and this pretty girl jumps on a bike rides past me in the street. We meet eyes, first shock then humor. She's looking over her shoulder to see if its really me. I've turned around and am walking toward her to see if its really her. It in fact is. Fuck, thats how she left my life.
Is what I thought. Time passes and the weather gets warmer but its still cold winter jackets and all. I attend that lecture I spoke of earlier. On the way out Loki is one cruel motherfucker and I run into her again. This time we catch eyes and start talking. First its small talk about our hilarious relationship. Then I push on and learn a little about her and share a little about me. We hit it off. I ask her out. She says no.
No boyfriend, no girlfriend, just no. She seemed genuinely sorry to turn me down. Thats life right? No thats your life, this is my life. See I figured it was because she was about to graduate in a month and a half so she didn't want to start anything. At leasts thats how I got to sleep at night.
Summer comes I work toward my degree, economics, life is pretty good. Then comes my bestfriend's 21st birthday. At this point it is important to know when we go out Imdelightful is liable to chase women rather than stick with the group. That night, I told myself its not about me. No matter what I won't let a woman hi-jack this night. To this Loki said, "Challenge accepted." There are a few instances that night of girls I had vague interest in at the time tried to tempt me. This soldier carried on. Then Loki tried the girl I was absolutely totally in love with in high school. Not even this derailed our buddy night. Then depression set in.
We head upstairs in this bar see. We are having a good time on the dance floor. I'm dancing with one of our friends he's dancing with his girlfriend all are having a good time. That is until I need to go to the toilet. Of course there is a line for the toilet and guess who is waiting in line. Yup! Her again.
We start talking, she doesn't remember my name but she remember me. First I flirt then I cut to the chase and ask her why she said no. At this point her friend comes over and tries to pull the whole get this creepy guy away from friend routine. This doesn't work, she tells her friend she has to talk to me and to go a way. I ask her if I wasn't pretty enough for her. (its much more charming in person than reddit) She says no, social cues tell me she found me attractive. So she tells me the story about her just getting out of some serious relationship that hurt her deeply and she couldn't be involved with that again any time soon. In fact that boy was at the bar, surely there was more to her story. After a little pushing for just 1 date, I, as gracefully as I can, accept this explanation. I wish her the best luck out there and leave to find my friends. Who at this point left me in the bar with her.
At this point, I figured that had to be the last of it. She was just in town for her friends birthday and my luck had run out. I'm the luckiest dude on earth I'll tell you. Last Saturday, September 7, I'm out on the town with 5 beautiful women and some other dude I'd never met before. It's a good time. We decide to pop into this bar I believe I have been in twice before. We get ID'd walk in the door and low and behold there she is. We chit chat, turns out she's doing an extra year. So we go through our little routine. I ask her if she's ready she says no. She gets away.
That shook me up a bit more than I expected. After all she is essentially a stranger I recognize on the street. Speaking of recognizing her on street. I saw her yesterday. Walking to the cafe in the after noon I decide to stop and watch the street artist do his thing. I look across the crescent of people and there she was. We meet each others gaze, smile and just watch the performance. When it finished she went back to her life and I went back to mine. | Girl doesn't believe in fairytales...yet. |
IBLEEDBACON | When I was around 14 in Des Moines I went on a campout in early march. It was really dry that year and we were camping out on a friend's parent's farmland out on the countryside. They weren't growing anything yet as it was recently purchased and it wasn't really the time of year to grow anything, so the whole area (about twenty acres) was covered in dried up tall grasses. First thing we did when we got there was set up a fire ring on the ground which was pretty east because the whole area was made of tinder.
After we did that most of us went wandering around for awhile, at least until we heard one of our friends about a hundred yards back shouting. Apparently within ten minutes of setting there we had started a wildfire. We started trying to put it out with everything we had. We started raking the fire and patting it out with shovels and our own boots. We failed to contain the fire and it spread like water rolling down a hill. At the end of the day we had burned down twelve acres.
TL;DR: a bunch of teenagers go camping. Start a massive wildfire within ten minutes from arrival. | When I was around 14 in Des Moines I went on a campout in early march. It was really dry that year and we were camping out on a friend's parent's farmland out on the countryside. They weren't growing anything yet as it was recently purchased and it wasn't really the time of year to grow anything, so the whole area (about twenty acres) was covered in dried up tall grasses. First thing we did when we got there was set up a fire ring on the ground which was pretty east because the whole area was made of tinder.
After we did that most of us went wandering around for awhile, at least until we heard one of our friends about a hundred yards back shouting. Apparently within ten minutes of setting there we had started a wildfire. We started trying to put it out with everything we had. We started raking the fire and patting it out with shovels and our own boots. We failed to contain the fire and it spread like water rolling down a hill. At the end of the day we had burned down twelve acres.
TL;DR: a bunch of teenagers go camping. Start a massive wildfire within ten minutes from arrival.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc93uzy | When I was around 14 in Des Moines I went on a campout in early march. It was really dry that year and we were camping out on a friend's parent's farmland out on the countryside. They weren't growing anything yet as it was recently purchased and it wasn't really the time of year to grow anything, so the whole area (about twenty acres) was covered in dried up tall grasses. First thing we did when we got there was set up a fire ring on the ground which was pretty east because the whole area was made of tinder.
After we did that most of us went wandering around for awhile, at least until we heard one of our friends about a hundred yards back shouting. Apparently within ten minutes of setting there we had started a wildfire. We started trying to put it out with everything we had. We started raking the fire and patting it out with shovels and our own boots. We failed to contain the fire and it spread like water rolling down a hill. At the end of the day we had burned down twelve acres. | a bunch of teenagers go camping. Start a massive wildfire within ten minutes from arrival. |
Are_You_Hermano | Back in the mid to late 90s when I was in college I landed this sweet job working for a massive NYC bank that was in the process of rolling out its online banking platform. And when I say online banking, it was not internet banking. Nope, they initially started with a platform where you installed a bank provided software to your computer and that allowed you to connect to their network.
The bank saw this as a huge deal and were keenly interested in making sure that it would succeed. They were also aware that some of their customers would either have difficulty getting the software up and running or dealing with technical issues or would be wary of a possibly insecure form of banking. So they hired a group of about 10 people who's job it was to personally go to people's houses/businesses and help them get set up. (Looking back I think its insane they let a bunch of 20 somethings go to random people's homes--talk about taking on a bunch of liability risk.)
One of my assignments was with some finance type who's offices were on like the 80 somthingish floor of the south tower of the WTC. I go up there get the guy set up and spend 20 minutes basically walking him through the features and use of the software. Before I am getting ready to leave he thanks me and says, "I am just so bad with all this computer stuff." I told him it was my pleasure to help in any way I can. As I am about to walk out he says, "you know I actually just bought a new computer a few weeks ago but its just sitting around because I don't even know how to get it out of the box and set up. If I'd be willing to pay you would you mind coming to my house and setting it up and just maybe walking me through how to use it?" I thought he was going to offer me like $50 or something so I started to tell him that I actually live about an hour out of the city so it probably wouldn't be worth my time to trek in and back and he cuts me off and says, "Well what if I gave you $400?"
My jaw nearly dropped. I was college junior and this guy offered me what I think at the time was a little less than what I paid in rent per month to come to his home and put a desktop together and load it up with a little software.
I drank some mighty fine beer that weekend!
TL;DR: Rich banker type how knows nothing about computers offers me $400 to basically put his new desktop together and give him a basic run through of how to use it. | Back in the mid to late 90s when I was in college I landed this sweet job working for a massive NYC bank that was in the process of rolling out its online banking platform. And when I say online banking, it was not internet banking. Nope, they initially started with a platform where you installed a bank provided software to your computer and that allowed you to connect to their network.
The bank saw this as a huge deal and were keenly interested in making sure that it would succeed. They were also aware that some of their customers would either have difficulty getting the software up and running or dealing with technical issues or would be wary of a possibly insecure form of banking. So they hired a group of about 10 people who's job it was to personally go to people's houses/businesses and help them get set up. (Looking back I think its insane they let a bunch of 20 somethings go to random people's homes--talk about taking on a bunch of liability risk.)
One of my assignments was with some finance type who's offices were on like the 80 somthingish floor of the south tower of the WTC. I go up there get the guy set up and spend 20 minutes basically walking him through the features and use of the software. Before I am getting ready to leave he thanks me and says, "I am just so bad with all this computer stuff." I told him it was my pleasure to help in any way I can. As I am about to walk out he says, "you know I actually just bought a new computer a few weeks ago but its just sitting around because I don't even know how to get it out of the box and set up. If I'd be willing to pay you would you mind coming to my house and setting it up and just maybe walking me through how to use it?" I thought he was going to offer me like $50 or something so I started to tell him that I actually live about an hour out of the city so it probably wouldn't be worth my time to trek in and back and he cuts me off and says, "Well what if I gave you $400?"
My jaw nearly dropped. I was college junior and this guy offered me what I think at the time was a little less than what I paid in rent per month to come to his home and put a desktop together and load it up with a little software.
I drank some mighty fine beer that weekend!
TL;DR: Rich banker type how knows nothing about computers offers me $400 to basically put his new desktop together and give him a basic run through of how to use it.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc9427y | Back in the mid to late 90s when I was in college I landed this sweet job working for a massive NYC bank that was in the process of rolling out its online banking platform. And when I say online banking, it was not internet banking. Nope, they initially started with a platform where you installed a bank provided software to your computer and that allowed you to connect to their network.
The bank saw this as a huge deal and were keenly interested in making sure that it would succeed. They were also aware that some of their customers would either have difficulty getting the software up and running or dealing with technical issues or would be wary of a possibly insecure form of banking. So they hired a group of about 10 people who's job it was to personally go to people's houses/businesses and help them get set up. (Looking back I think its insane they let a bunch of 20 somethings go to random people's homes--talk about taking on a bunch of liability risk.)
One of my assignments was with some finance type who's offices were on like the 80 somthingish floor of the south tower of the WTC. I go up there get the guy set up and spend 20 minutes basically walking him through the features and use of the software. Before I am getting ready to leave he thanks me and says, "I am just so bad with all this computer stuff." I told him it was my pleasure to help in any way I can. As I am about to walk out he says, "you know I actually just bought a new computer a few weeks ago but its just sitting around because I don't even know how to get it out of the box and set up. If I'd be willing to pay you would you mind coming to my house and setting it up and just maybe walking me through how to use it?" I thought he was going to offer me like $50 or something so I started to tell him that I actually live about an hour out of the city so it probably wouldn't be worth my time to trek in and back and he cuts me off and says, "Well what if I gave you $400?"
My jaw nearly dropped. I was college junior and this guy offered me what I think at the time was a little less than what I paid in rent per month to come to his home and put a desktop together and load it up with a little software.
I drank some mighty fine beer that weekend! | Rich banker type how knows nothing about computers offers me $400 to basically put his new desktop together and give him a basic run through of how to use it. |
saliczar | I spend a lot of time on the road for work, so I have a lot of crazy stories. I'll talk to anyone, so I meet a lot of interesting people. This night is one of my favorites:
I was walking down the street in Sag Harbor, New York (the Hamptons). I lit my cigarette and this guy asks me for a light. He is dressed down, kinda rough looking. We talk until we finish smoking, and he invites me into an expensive bar for a drink. He buys me a $25 glass of cognac (only about 1/4-inch full), and introduces me to his wife and friend, some famous artist. We have a few drinks and swap stories.
He had sailed his boat from Connecticut, and the water was too rough to return. His son and daughter-in-law had to be back home for work the next morning, so he had his helicopter pick him up.
We all went to a haunted house, they smoked a bowl, and we returned to the bar. Turns out this guy is a mobster and rich as fuck.
We go out for another cigarette, and a bus pulls up with three attractive women with baggage. The mobster invites them in for drinks and tries to get me laid. The hottest of the girls was shocked that I didn't know who she was. She claimed to be an actress, so I asked what movie she was in. She says "Money Talks". I check IMDB, and she is not listed. I then remember that there is a porn with the same title. She was a porn-star.
I personally racked up a $1,200 bar-tab that night, all of which the mobster insisted in paying for. I cabbed it back to the house I was staying at and called it a night. I never heard back from any of the group.
**TL;DR: Partied with a mobster, famous artist, and a porn-star**
If anyone is interested, I have a lot more stories.
**Edit: I have added several more stories in the child comments below. Thanks for all of the interest!**
**Edit #2: Thanks for the interest everyone. I have a meeting in the morning, so I am going to bed. If there is a subreddit for stories like these, let me know, and I'll start contributing. Goodnight!** | I spend a lot of time on the road for work, so I have a lot of crazy stories. I'll talk to anyone, so I meet a lot of interesting people. This night is one of my favorites:
I was walking down the street in Sag Harbor, New York (the Hamptons). I lit my cigarette and this guy asks me for a light. He is dressed down, kinda rough looking. We talk until we finish smoking, and he invites me into an expensive bar for a drink. He buys me a $25 glass of cognac (only about 1/4-inch full), and introduces me to his wife and friend, some famous artist. We have a few drinks and swap stories.
He had sailed his boat from Connecticut, and the water was too rough to return. His son and daughter-in-law had to be back home for work the next morning, so he had his helicopter pick him up.
We all went to a haunted house, they smoked a bowl, and we returned to the bar. Turns out this guy is a mobster and rich as fuck.
We go out for another cigarette, and a bus pulls up with three attractive women with baggage. The mobster invites them in for drinks and tries to get me laid. The hottest of the girls was shocked that I didn't know who she was. She claimed to be an actress, so I asked what movie she was in. She says "Money Talks". I check IMDB, and she is not listed. I then remember that there is a porn with the same title. She was a porn-star.
I personally racked up a $1,200 bar-tab that night, all of which the mobster insisted in paying for. I cabbed it back to the house I was staying at and called it a night. I never heard back from any of the group.
TL;DR: Partied with a mobster, famous artist, and a porn-star
If anyone is interested, I have a lot more stories.
Edit: I have added several more stories in the child comments below. Thanks for all of the interest!
Edit #2: Thanks for the interest everyone. I have a meeting in the morning, so I am going to bed. If there is a subreddit for stories like these, let me know, and I'll start contributing. Goodnight!
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc94659 | I spend a lot of time on the road for work, so I have a lot of crazy stories. I'll talk to anyone, so I meet a lot of interesting people. This night is one of my favorites:
I was walking down the street in Sag Harbor, New York (the Hamptons). I lit my cigarette and this guy asks me for a light. He is dressed down, kinda rough looking. We talk until we finish smoking, and he invites me into an expensive bar for a drink. He buys me a $25 glass of cognac (only about 1/4-inch full), and introduces me to his wife and friend, some famous artist. We have a few drinks and swap stories.
He had sailed his boat from Connecticut, and the water was too rough to return. His son and daughter-in-law had to be back home for work the next morning, so he had his helicopter pick him up.
We all went to a haunted house, they smoked a bowl, and we returned to the bar. Turns out this guy is a mobster and rich as fuck.
We go out for another cigarette, and a bus pulls up with three attractive women with baggage. The mobster invites them in for drinks and tries to get me laid. The hottest of the girls was shocked that I didn't know who she was. She claimed to be an actress, so I asked what movie she was in. She says "Money Talks". I check IMDB, and she is not listed. I then remember that there is a porn with the same title. She was a porn-star.
I personally racked up a $1,200 bar-tab that night, all of which the mobster insisted in paying for. I cabbed it back to the house I was staying at and called it a night. I never heard back from any of the group. | Partied with a mobster, famous artist, and a porn-star
If anyone is interested, I have a lot more stories.
Edit: I have added several more stories in the child comments below. Thanks for all of the interest!
Edit #2: Thanks for the interest everyone. I have a meeting in the morning, so I am going to bed. If there is a subreddit for stories like these, let me know, and I'll start contributing. Goodnight! |
Toph__Beifong | When I was 12 I found my day's stash of porn tapes, and I rightly began borrowing them for my own purposes. One day when I looked for them in their usual spot in my dresser, they were gone. Panic and terror swept over me, but no mention was ever made of their discovery. Later that week I discovered the tapes back in their original position in the stash, and I realized I had been given a pass.
Earlier this week I was helping my dad move and discovered that he had relocated one of the tapes to the top of the dresser we were moving, for easier access in our new house. Pretending not to know what it was, I merely pointed to it and said that I found it on the dresser. The circle of denial continues.
Tl;dr My dad didn't mention the porno tapes I had taken from him, and I played ignorant when I found them while moving. | When I was 12 I found my day's stash of porn tapes, and I rightly began borrowing them for my own purposes. One day when I looked for them in their usual spot in my dresser, they were gone. Panic and terror swept over me, but no mention was ever made of their discovery. Later that week I discovered the tapes back in their original position in the stash, and I realized I had been given a pass.
Earlier this week I was helping my dad move and discovered that he had relocated one of the tapes to the top of the dresser we were moving, for easier access in our new house. Pretending not to know what it was, I merely pointed to it and said that I found it on the dresser. The circle of denial continues.
Tl;dr My dad didn't mention the porno tapes I had taken from him, and I played ignorant when I found them while moving.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc948ox | When I was 12 I found my day's stash of porn tapes, and I rightly began borrowing them for my own purposes. One day when I looked for them in their usual spot in my dresser, they were gone. Panic and terror swept over me, but no mention was ever made of their discovery. Later that week I discovered the tapes back in their original position in the stash, and I realized I had been given a pass.
Earlier this week I was helping my dad move and discovered that he had relocated one of the tapes to the top of the dresser we were moving, for easier access in our new house. Pretending not to know what it was, I merely pointed to it and said that I found it on the dresser. The circle of denial continues. | My dad didn't mention the porno tapes I had taken from him, and I played ignorant when I found them while moving. |
Homebound_Cobra | When I was 12 years old I was on a road trip to Illinois with my aunt and we stopped at a McDonalds to use the bathroom. There was only one stall and it was occupied. I had to shit so bad, after about 3 minutes of intense decision making, I ended up opting for the urinal.
TL;DR - I had explosive diarrhea in a urinal at a McDonalds. | When I was 12 years old I was on a road trip to Illinois with my aunt and we stopped at a McDonalds to use the bathroom. There was only one stall and it was occupied. I had to shit so bad, after about 3 minutes of intense decision making, I ended up opting for the urinal.
TL;DR - I had explosive diarrhea in a urinal at a McDonalds.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc94db2 | When I was 12 years old I was on a road trip to Illinois with my aunt and we stopped at a McDonalds to use the bathroom. There was only one stall and it was occupied. I had to shit so bad, after about 3 minutes of intense decision making, I ended up opting for the urinal. | I had explosive diarrhea in a urinal at a McDonalds. |
Conkyyy | Hmm, it's the worst feeling when people still judge for tattoo's and piercings. I can understand in some contexts, if people have racist or inappropriate tattoos, however for myself, (20 but still look 14, 14mm tunnels in each ear and snake bites) it was really unsettling to have an old lady frown upon me and storm away after I smiled at her whilst walking down the street. That was 6 months ago, and I've had to remove my piercings for my current job, but have never experienced that since.
**TL;DR: People who judge a book by their cover are not good people.** | Hmm, it's the worst feeling when people still judge for tattoo's and piercings. I can understand in some contexts, if people have racist or inappropriate tattoos, however for myself, (20 but still look 14, 14mm tunnels in each ear and snake bites) it was really unsettling to have an old lady frown upon me and storm away after I smiled at her whilst walking down the street. That was 6 months ago, and I've had to remove my piercings for my current job, but have never experienced that since.
TL;DR: People who judge a book by their cover are not good people.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc94idx | Hmm, it's the worst feeling when people still judge for tattoo's and piercings. I can understand in some contexts, if people have racist or inappropriate tattoos, however for myself, (20 but still look 14, 14mm tunnels in each ear and snake bites) it was really unsettling to have an old lady frown upon me and storm away after I smiled at her whilst walking down the street. That was 6 months ago, and I've had to remove my piercings for my current job, but have never experienced that since. | People who judge a book by their cover are not good people. |
DOPEdwarf | Playing Xbox at my house, I look to see that my controller needs new batteries. Searching through my home, I find no batteries and decide to walk to the nearby liquor store to buy some. It was around 7:00 p.m. so it was getting a little dark. Down the street I see a small figure starting to walk towards me. Puzzled, I walk toward him hoping to see who he was.
What I happened next was the most confusing moment of my life. The figure was a kid of around 5 or 6 completely naked except for his underwear. He flips me off and starts to trash talk me.
"Get over here bitch, come fight me!"
"I will fuck you up bitch come on!"
I was so confused I didn't know what to say. I stood there dumbfounded wondering what the fuck is going on. I started to run toward him to stop him from shouting. He looked and ran, screaming at the top of his lungs, and disappeared into the nearby alley. I went at got my batteries and went home.
tl;dr
Kid in his underwear flips me off and trash talks me. | Playing Xbox at my house, I look to see that my controller needs new batteries. Searching through my home, I find no batteries and decide to walk to the nearby liquor store to buy some. It was around 7:00 p.m. so it was getting a little dark. Down the street I see a small figure starting to walk towards me. Puzzled, I walk toward him hoping to see who he was.
What I happened next was the most confusing moment of my life. The figure was a kid of around 5 or 6 completely naked except for his underwear. He flips me off and starts to trash talk me.
"Get over here bitch, come fight me!"
"I will fuck you up bitch come on!"
I was so confused I didn't know what to say. I stood there dumbfounded wondering what the fuck is going on. I started to run toward him to stop him from shouting. He looked and ran, screaming at the top of his lungs, and disappeared into the nearby alley. I went at got my batteries and went home.
tl;dr
Kid in his underwear flips me off and trash talks me.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc94jzz | Playing Xbox at my house, I look to see that my controller needs new batteries. Searching through my home, I find no batteries and decide to walk to the nearby liquor store to buy some. It was around 7:00 p.m. so it was getting a little dark. Down the street I see a small figure starting to walk towards me. Puzzled, I walk toward him hoping to see who he was.
What I happened next was the most confusing moment of my life. The figure was a kid of around 5 or 6 completely naked except for his underwear. He flips me off and starts to trash talk me.
"Get over here bitch, come fight me!"
"I will fuck you up bitch come on!"
I was so confused I didn't know what to say. I stood there dumbfounded wondering what the fuck is going on. I started to run toward him to stop him from shouting. He looked and ran, screaming at the top of his lungs, and disappeared into the nearby alley. I went at got my batteries and went home. | Kid in his underwear flips me off and trash talks me. |
Stubbledorange | My buddy in high school screwed around through this whole class, world history I think, the teacher didn't care if you did the work or not. So exam day comes, and he doesn't know shit about the class. Teacher gives out the exam, he gets his, starts then realized that his rest has ALL THE ANSWERS FILLED IN... He was done as soon as he checked for any blatantly obvious wrong answers. To this day we don't know if the teacher have it to him on purpose or if he just got the answer key.
Tl;Dr: friend either has teacher that loves him or accidentally gets answer key for final exam. | My buddy in high school screwed around through this whole class, world history I think, the teacher didn't care if you did the work or not. So exam day comes, and he doesn't know shit about the class. Teacher gives out the exam, he gets his, starts then realized that his rest has ALL THE ANSWERS FILLED IN... He was done as soon as he checked for any blatantly obvious wrong answers. To this day we don't know if the teacher have it to him on purpose or if he just got the answer key.
Tl;Dr: friend either has teacher that loves him or accidentally gets answer key for final exam.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc94xhj | My buddy in high school screwed around through this whole class, world history I think, the teacher didn't care if you did the work or not. So exam day comes, and he doesn't know shit about the class. Teacher gives out the exam, he gets his, starts then realized that his rest has ALL THE ANSWERS FILLED IN... He was done as soon as he checked for any blatantly obvious wrong answers. To this day we don't know if the teacher have it to him on purpose or if he just got the answer key. | friend either has teacher that loves him or accidentally gets answer key for final exam. |
Bossman759 | I once got a shower curtain stuck up my ass when I was younger
I have just taken a shit and got up to do a victory dance when suddenly I bump into the shower curtain. I had to call my mom into clean the shit up.
Tl;Dr got ass fucked by a shower curtain. | I once got a shower curtain stuck up my ass when I was younger
I have just taken a shit and got up to do a victory dance when suddenly I bump into the shower curtain. I had to call my mom into clean the shit up.
Tl;Dr got ass fucked by a shower curtain.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc950bi | I once got a shower curtain stuck up my ass when I was younger
I have just taken a shit and got up to do a victory dance when suddenly I bump into the shower curtain. I had to call my mom into clean the shit up. | got ass fucked by a shower curtain. |
lavibot | A few years ago, when my little brother was probably two, my dad was teaching him how to pee outside. I was in the living room while this was occuring, they were in the backyard. My mom protested it a bit, but eventually left them alone. My dad comes back inside, confirming that my little brother now knew how to pee outside.
Yay, whoopee, right? Wrong. Children think in the funniest ways, and my little brother was no exception. About five minutes later, my little bro comes sprinting into the living room, excited as hell. He started jumping and saying "Look what I did, look what I did!". He'd been playing in the front yard, so of course we all go outside to see what he was so excited about.
My mom was the first to scream. My little brother had decided to go one step further on this whole "peeing outside" thing... *and decided to take a shit on the steps*. Needless to say, my mom made my dad clean it up.
**TL;DR My dad shows my little brother that you can pee outside, little bro decides to one-up him by shitting on the steps of the front yard.** | A few years ago, when my little brother was probably two, my dad was teaching him how to pee outside. I was in the living room while this was occuring, they were in the backyard. My mom protested it a bit, but eventually left them alone. My dad comes back inside, confirming that my little brother now knew how to pee outside.
Yay, whoopee, right? Wrong. Children think in the funniest ways, and my little brother was no exception. About five minutes later, my little bro comes sprinting into the living room, excited as hell. He started jumping and saying "Look what I did, look what I did!". He'd been playing in the front yard, so of course we all go outside to see what he was so excited about.
My mom was the first to scream. My little brother had decided to go one step further on this whole "peeing outside" thing... and decided to take a shit on the steps . Needless to say, my mom made my dad clean it up.
TL;DR My dad shows my little brother that you can pee outside, little bro decides to one-up him by shitting on the steps of the front yard.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc950pw | A few years ago, when my little brother was probably two, my dad was teaching him how to pee outside. I was in the living room while this was occuring, they were in the backyard. My mom protested it a bit, but eventually left them alone. My dad comes back inside, confirming that my little brother now knew how to pee outside.
Yay, whoopee, right? Wrong. Children think in the funniest ways, and my little brother was no exception. About five minutes later, my little bro comes sprinting into the living room, excited as hell. He started jumping and saying "Look what I did, look what I did!". He'd been playing in the front yard, so of course we all go outside to see what he was so excited about.
My mom was the first to scream. My little brother had decided to go one step further on this whole "peeing outside" thing... and decided to take a shit on the steps . Needless to say, my mom made my dad clean it up. | My dad shows my little brother that you can pee outside, little bro decides to one-up him by shitting on the steps of the front yard. |
ufothrow | This probably would fit in several other threads, but I've never worked up the courage to tell this until now...when I was in my early twenties I saw a UFO of epic proportions. I've never told anybody, and I'm only telling reddit 'cause this is a throwaway.
I was driving back from visiting my parents who live in a country town in Australia back to a major capital. I'd just stopped for fuel and about 5ks down the road from the servo (genuine Aussie slang there) an audio book on cassette ran out and I pulled over to find the next cassette. As I swapped tapes, something caught my eye and I looked out through the windscreen and could see movement above me. What I saw was so utterly inexplicable that I couldn't make sense of it. A 'surface' filled the sky above me and was moving very slowly above the car.
I got out and tried to make sense of what I was seeing. There was absolutely no noise and it was a clear, warm night so there was no wind or rain to mask sound even if it had been there.
The surface was dull, opaque, non-reflective and there no lights or any other distinguishing features. The only way I sensed movement was that there were occasional 'joins' in the surface almost as if a gigantic ship were passing above me, side-on.
Even trying to work out size & scale was very hard. There were electrical wires above the car, and this thing appeared to be about the same height above the wires as I was below them, so VERY low-flying (if that's what it was doing.)
It was enormous. It passed above me for several minutes and I could see it occluding stars & clouds at the edge. When it finally passed over me it didn't seem to have any height at all. I could still see it by the hole it cut in the stars, but it wasn't a cube or a sphere (or a saucer, ha). It seemed to be all surface.
A truck passed me going in the opposite direction but didn't stop, so I assume it didn't see anything or I was having a very weird hallucination.
I kept watching the 'hole' until it had moved so far away that it was barely perceptible. I was shaking with the strangeness of it all. I think I'd have been described as speechless if there had been anyone else there. I sat in the car for a long time (probably an hour) trying to make sense of what I had seen. By this time whatever it was had disappeared over the horizon, it's direction of travel as it left me was over farmland, not towards the city.
I eventually drove off back to my University dorm and the entire way there I tried to figure out what to do. This was pre-Internet so I checked the papers every day to see if anyone else had seen this thing ( we used to get the local paper plus two nationals in the common room. ) Nothing ever appeared and I started to doubt my sanity.
I was drinking a fair bit socially at this time, but I was moderately nerdy and wasn't doing anything harder (or even vaguely psychactive). I was sober as a judge that night, I'd spent the whole weekend at home & Mum & Dad were light imbibers. I wasn't even tired or stressed so I can't identify another factor that may have caused me to 'see things'
Anyway, it registers as the strangest experience of my life and one that has never even vaguely been repeated. If it was real I'd like to know what the fuck it was.
TL;DR I saw a 'UFO' in rural Australia and never told a soul (until now). | This probably would fit in several other threads, but I've never worked up the courage to tell this until now...when I was in my early twenties I saw a UFO of epic proportions. I've never told anybody, and I'm only telling reddit 'cause this is a throwaway.
I was driving back from visiting my parents who live in a country town in Australia back to a major capital. I'd just stopped for fuel and about 5ks down the road from the servo (genuine Aussie slang there) an audio book on cassette ran out and I pulled over to find the next cassette. As I swapped tapes, something caught my eye and I looked out through the windscreen and could see movement above me. What I saw was so utterly inexplicable that I couldn't make sense of it. A 'surface' filled the sky above me and was moving very slowly above the car.
I got out and tried to make sense of what I was seeing. There was absolutely no noise and it was a clear, warm night so there was no wind or rain to mask sound even if it had been there.
The surface was dull, opaque, non-reflective and there no lights or any other distinguishing features. The only way I sensed movement was that there were occasional 'joins' in the surface almost as if a gigantic ship were passing above me, side-on.
Even trying to work out size & scale was very hard. There were electrical wires above the car, and this thing appeared to be about the same height above the wires as I was below them, so VERY low-flying (if that's what it was doing.)
It was enormous. It passed above me for several minutes and I could see it occluding stars & clouds at the edge. When it finally passed over me it didn't seem to have any height at all. I could still see it by the hole it cut in the stars, but it wasn't a cube or a sphere (or a saucer, ha). It seemed to be all surface.
A truck passed me going in the opposite direction but didn't stop, so I assume it didn't see anything or I was having a very weird hallucination.
I kept watching the 'hole' until it had moved so far away that it was barely perceptible. I was shaking with the strangeness of it all. I think I'd have been described as speechless if there had been anyone else there. I sat in the car for a long time (probably an hour) trying to make sense of what I had seen. By this time whatever it was had disappeared over the horizon, it's direction of travel as it left me was over farmland, not towards the city.
I eventually drove off back to my University dorm and the entire way there I tried to figure out what to do. This was pre-Internet so I checked the papers every day to see if anyone else had seen this thing ( we used to get the local paper plus two nationals in the common room. ) Nothing ever appeared and I started to doubt my sanity.
I was drinking a fair bit socially at this time, but I was moderately nerdy and wasn't doing anything harder (or even vaguely psychactive). I was sober as a judge that night, I'd spent the whole weekend at home & Mum & Dad were light imbibers. I wasn't even tired or stressed so I can't identify another factor that may have caused me to 'see things'
Anyway, it registers as the strangest experience of my life and one that has never even vaguely been repeated. If it was real I'd like to know what the fuck it was.
TL;DR I saw a 'UFO' in rural Australia and never told a soul (until now).
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc950q4 | This probably would fit in several other threads, but I've never worked up the courage to tell this until now...when I was in my early twenties I saw a UFO of epic proportions. I've never told anybody, and I'm only telling reddit 'cause this is a throwaway.
I was driving back from visiting my parents who live in a country town in Australia back to a major capital. I'd just stopped for fuel and about 5ks down the road from the servo (genuine Aussie slang there) an audio book on cassette ran out and I pulled over to find the next cassette. As I swapped tapes, something caught my eye and I looked out through the windscreen and could see movement above me. What I saw was so utterly inexplicable that I couldn't make sense of it. A 'surface' filled the sky above me and was moving very slowly above the car.
I got out and tried to make sense of what I was seeing. There was absolutely no noise and it was a clear, warm night so there was no wind or rain to mask sound even if it had been there.
The surface was dull, opaque, non-reflective and there no lights or any other distinguishing features. The only way I sensed movement was that there were occasional 'joins' in the surface almost as if a gigantic ship were passing above me, side-on.
Even trying to work out size & scale was very hard. There were electrical wires above the car, and this thing appeared to be about the same height above the wires as I was below them, so VERY low-flying (if that's what it was doing.)
It was enormous. It passed above me for several minutes and I could see it occluding stars & clouds at the edge. When it finally passed over me it didn't seem to have any height at all. I could still see it by the hole it cut in the stars, but it wasn't a cube or a sphere (or a saucer, ha). It seemed to be all surface.
A truck passed me going in the opposite direction but didn't stop, so I assume it didn't see anything or I was having a very weird hallucination.
I kept watching the 'hole' until it had moved so far away that it was barely perceptible. I was shaking with the strangeness of it all. I think I'd have been described as speechless if there had been anyone else there. I sat in the car for a long time (probably an hour) trying to make sense of what I had seen. By this time whatever it was had disappeared over the horizon, it's direction of travel as it left me was over farmland, not towards the city.
I eventually drove off back to my University dorm and the entire way there I tried to figure out what to do. This was pre-Internet so I checked the papers every day to see if anyone else had seen this thing ( we used to get the local paper plus two nationals in the common room. ) Nothing ever appeared and I started to doubt my sanity.
I was drinking a fair bit socially at this time, but I was moderately nerdy and wasn't doing anything harder (or even vaguely psychactive). I was sober as a judge that night, I'd spent the whole weekend at home & Mum & Dad were light imbibers. I wasn't even tired or stressed so I can't identify another factor that may have caused me to 'see things'
Anyway, it registers as the strangest experience of my life and one that has never even vaguely been repeated. If it was real I'd like to know what the fuck it was. | I saw a 'UFO' in rural Australia and never told a soul (until now). |
jessiferocious | In university, I helped out with a kids program where for some strange reason all the kids were obsessed with [this song]( - I thought this was the strangest and most ridiculous thing I had ever seen so I decided to "like" him on Facebook. A couple of months go by when he suddenly messages me out of the blue and says, "I see you're a photographer and I am going to be close to your city soon! Would you be interested in helping shoot a music video by doing the photos for it?" Turns out he is the NICEST individual, and one of the most positive people I've ever met. He filmed a movie about how he became India's first YouTube celebrity and how this changed his life and he made this movie happen by completely crowd-sourcing the funding, and working with fans of his all over the world who had skills (such as myself, the photographer) to help bring his movie to life. He's currently premiering his movie in film festivals and I still keep in touch with him, and have shot multiple photo projects for him since.
TLDR: By happenstance, I became one of the official photographers for India's first YouTube celebrity, Wilbur Sargunaraj. | In university, I helped out with a kids program where for some strange reason all the kids were obsessed with this song to help bring his movie to life. He's currently premiering his movie in film festivals and I still keep in touch with him, and have shot multiple photo projects for him since.
TLDR: By happenstance, I became one of the official photographers for India's first YouTube celebrity, Wilbur Sargunaraj.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc953bf | In university, I helped out with a kids program where for some strange reason all the kids were obsessed with this song to help bring his movie to life. He's currently premiering his movie in film festivals and I still keep in touch with him, and have shot multiple photo projects for him since. | By happenstance, I became one of the official photographers for India's first YouTube celebrity, Wilbur Sargunaraj. |
IRL_Paladin | This year I climbed Mt. Adams with a bunch of buddies. We summited stupidly late, in weather conditions that made summiting already incredibly stupid. After we finished the main glacade down from the summit, and made it to lunch counter (area where lots of people camp prior to/after summiting) we then started to head back down the mountain since we were camped all the way at the bottom. We took a wrong turn and ending up going the complete opposite direction from what we should have gone. we then got stuck up on the mountain for a night, where we found a little rocky island, with a sheltered spot, covered in trees and deadwood right in the middle of a glacier. We had a pretty decent night, with a nice little fire. After we got off the mountain the next morning, we discovered that we had been going west when we needed to go east, were about 8 miles away from where we thought we were, And that the way I had said we should go at lunch counter was the right way.
**TL;DR** Got stuck on a mountain for a night while climbing with buddies after the group took a wrong turn, discovered that the way I had said we should go was right. Nothing has boosted my confidence in my sense of direction more. | This year I climbed Mt. Adams with a bunch of buddies. We summited stupidly late, in weather conditions that made summiting already incredibly stupid. After we finished the main glacade down from the summit, and made it to lunch counter (area where lots of people camp prior to/after summiting) we then started to head back down the mountain since we were camped all the way at the bottom. We took a wrong turn and ending up going the complete opposite direction from what we should have gone. we then got stuck up on the mountain for a night, where we found a little rocky island, with a sheltered spot, covered in trees and deadwood right in the middle of a glacier. We had a pretty decent night, with a nice little fire. After we got off the mountain the next morning, we discovered that we had been going west when we needed to go east, were about 8 miles away from where we thought we were, And that the way I had said we should go at lunch counter was the right way.
TL;DR Got stuck on a mountain for a night while climbing with buddies after the group took a wrong turn, discovered that the way I had said we should go was right. Nothing has boosted my confidence in my sense of direction more.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc959ry | This year I climbed Mt. Adams with a bunch of buddies. We summited stupidly late, in weather conditions that made summiting already incredibly stupid. After we finished the main glacade down from the summit, and made it to lunch counter (area where lots of people camp prior to/after summiting) we then started to head back down the mountain since we were camped all the way at the bottom. We took a wrong turn and ending up going the complete opposite direction from what we should have gone. we then got stuck up on the mountain for a night, where we found a little rocky island, with a sheltered spot, covered in trees and deadwood right in the middle of a glacier. We had a pretty decent night, with a nice little fire. After we got off the mountain the next morning, we discovered that we had been going west when we needed to go east, were about 8 miles away from where we thought we were, And that the way I had said we should go at lunch counter was the right way. | Got stuck on a mountain for a night while climbing with buddies after the group took a wrong turn, discovered that the way I had said we should go was right. Nothing has boosted my confidence in my sense of direction more. |
red_sky33 | Last year my school bus got hit while at a stop. The other driver was in a medium sized truck (think ford ranger) and was going over forty MPH at impact. Texting and driving, so no brakes were applied. I was in the last seat listening to a podcast. I was three feet from the hood of his truck. Had I arbitrarily made the decision to sit on the other side, I would be dead, but because I sat in that little seat on the left I survived. People in the front were covered in glass, but I didn't get a single piece on me. I don't mean to start a discussion about what I am about to say, but I had been depressed for a while, and I think that day was God's way of telling me I am meant to keep on living.
TL;DR: life saved by an arbitrary decision. | Last year my school bus got hit while at a stop. The other driver was in a medium sized truck (think ford ranger) and was going over forty MPH at impact. Texting and driving, so no brakes were applied. I was in the last seat listening to a podcast. I was three feet from the hood of his truck. Had I arbitrarily made the decision to sit on the other side, I would be dead, but because I sat in that little seat on the left I survived. People in the front were covered in glass, but I didn't get a single piece on me. I don't mean to start a discussion about what I am about to say, but I had been depressed for a while, and I think that day was God's way of telling me I am meant to keep on living.
TL;DR: life saved by an arbitrary decision.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc95bzh | Last year my school bus got hit while at a stop. The other driver was in a medium sized truck (think ford ranger) and was going over forty MPH at impact. Texting and driving, so no brakes were applied. I was in the last seat listening to a podcast. I was three feet from the hood of his truck. Had I arbitrarily made the decision to sit on the other side, I would be dead, but because I sat in that little seat on the left I survived. People in the front were covered in glass, but I didn't get a single piece on me. I don't mean to start a discussion about what I am about to say, but I had been depressed for a while, and I think that day was God's way of telling me I am meant to keep on living. | life saved by an arbitrary decision. |
Mr_Cohen | I'm a senior in high school and I do something similar. All through middle school I had two characters that I had made myself that I would discuss things with. I would write about them and their lives and eventually they hooked up. In freshmen year, I stopped thinking about them as much because (this is going to sound stupid) it was like they were happy and I didn't want to ruin that and I was afraid that both of their characters were becoming reduced to just their base characteristics. I've kind of locked them away until I really put together a story and occasionally I write a paragraph or two about them.
Around this time I finally bought a copy of BioShock and I was immediately hooked. It was like a dream come true. Great writing, interesting characters, fantastic music, art deco, and it was unnerving in a beautiful way. The part I loved the most was Fort Frolic and the crazy, flamboyant artist who lived there, Sander Cohen.
After running into him again later in the game and killing him, I started to miss his part of the game. So I decided to go through my old saves after that to find the one in the beginning of Fort Frolic, and I played through it again. I loved it more than the first time because I took the time to explore everything and find all of his art and diaries. I loved the weird symbolism in his art, his fascination with death, all of the drama between him Culpepper, Ryan, and the disciples, his mask, his theatricalness, how tragic he is, all of it. Even The Wild Bunny. Sander Cohen had embedded himself in my brain.
Now, he's kind of turned into my alter ego. I've taken the bits of dialogue from the game and I've fleshed out his character and gave him a bit of a backstory. I've cosplayed him and I used to rp a bit but I gave up on that. With my mildly emotionally abusive mom and brother, slowly failing relationship, self-hatred, anxiety, and just general stress from life, he is my way of coping. Put on the mask and be someone else, because the doubters are always there.
He's a pain in the ass during art classes, though.
TL;DR You're not alone. I had something similar to what you described, but replaced it with something slightly weirder three years ago. I'm not stopping any time soon. | I'm a senior in high school and I do something similar. All through middle school I had two characters that I had made myself that I would discuss things with. I would write about them and their lives and eventually they hooked up. In freshmen year, I stopped thinking about them as much because (this is going to sound stupid) it was like they were happy and I didn't want to ruin that and I was afraid that both of their characters were becoming reduced to just their base characteristics. I've kind of locked them away until I really put together a story and occasionally I write a paragraph or two about them.
Around this time I finally bought a copy of BioShock and I was immediately hooked. It was like a dream come true. Great writing, interesting characters, fantastic music, art deco, and it was unnerving in a beautiful way. The part I loved the most was Fort Frolic and the crazy, flamboyant artist who lived there, Sander Cohen.
After running into him again later in the game and killing him, I started to miss his part of the game. So I decided to go through my old saves after that to find the one in the beginning of Fort Frolic, and I played through it again. I loved it more than the first time because I took the time to explore everything and find all of his art and diaries. I loved the weird symbolism in his art, his fascination with death, all of the drama between him Culpepper, Ryan, and the disciples, his mask, his theatricalness, how tragic he is, all of it. Even The Wild Bunny. Sander Cohen had embedded himself in my brain.
Now, he's kind of turned into my alter ego. I've taken the bits of dialogue from the game and I've fleshed out his character and gave him a bit of a backstory. I've cosplayed him and I used to rp a bit but I gave up on that. With my mildly emotionally abusive mom and brother, slowly failing relationship, self-hatred, anxiety, and just general stress from life, he is my way of coping. Put on the mask and be someone else, because the doubters are always there.
He's a pain in the ass during art classes, though.
TL;DR You're not alone. I had something similar to what you described, but replaced it with something slightly weirder three years ago. I'm not stopping any time soon.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc95gc5 | I'm a senior in high school and I do something similar. All through middle school I had two characters that I had made myself that I would discuss things with. I would write about them and their lives and eventually they hooked up. In freshmen year, I stopped thinking about them as much because (this is going to sound stupid) it was like they were happy and I didn't want to ruin that and I was afraid that both of their characters were becoming reduced to just their base characteristics. I've kind of locked them away until I really put together a story and occasionally I write a paragraph or two about them.
Around this time I finally bought a copy of BioShock and I was immediately hooked. It was like a dream come true. Great writing, interesting characters, fantastic music, art deco, and it was unnerving in a beautiful way. The part I loved the most was Fort Frolic and the crazy, flamboyant artist who lived there, Sander Cohen.
After running into him again later in the game and killing him, I started to miss his part of the game. So I decided to go through my old saves after that to find the one in the beginning of Fort Frolic, and I played through it again. I loved it more than the first time because I took the time to explore everything and find all of his art and diaries. I loved the weird symbolism in his art, his fascination with death, all of the drama between him Culpepper, Ryan, and the disciples, his mask, his theatricalness, how tragic he is, all of it. Even The Wild Bunny. Sander Cohen had embedded himself in my brain.
Now, he's kind of turned into my alter ego. I've taken the bits of dialogue from the game and I've fleshed out his character and gave him a bit of a backstory. I've cosplayed him and I used to rp a bit but I gave up on that. With my mildly emotionally abusive mom and brother, slowly failing relationship, self-hatred, anxiety, and just general stress from life, he is my way of coping. Put on the mask and be someone else, because the doubters are always there.
He's a pain in the ass during art classes, though. | You're not alone. I had something similar to what you described, but replaced it with something slightly weirder three years ago. I'm not stopping any time soon. |
blueTeaCup | A story in that vein...
I trolled a bunch of fellow students at one of those diagnostic/practice SAT exams that Kaplan gives for free to get people to sign up for ridiculously overpriced classes.
A mean, popular girl from my school forgot her calculator, so I lent her mine and took the test without a calculator. We marked each other's exams, and it was hilarious to see people's expressions. (I mean, the tests all say you don't need a calculator to solve them!) What they did not know was that I had attended and now taught for a SAT math class at the local Chinese school (something like $50/semester) and had been able to pull off the no-calculator perfect-math-section for at least a year by then.
**Tl;dr I was super nerdy in high school, but the mean girls left me alone.** | A story in that vein...
I trolled a bunch of fellow students at one of those diagnostic/practice SAT exams that Kaplan gives for free to get people to sign up for ridiculously overpriced classes.
A mean, popular girl from my school forgot her calculator, so I lent her mine and took the test without a calculator. We marked each other's exams, and it was hilarious to see people's expressions. (I mean, the tests all say you don't need a calculator to solve them!) What they did not know was that I had attended and now taught for a SAT math class at the local Chinese school (something like $50/semester) and had been able to pull off the no-calculator perfect-math-section for at least a year by then.
Tl;dr I was super nerdy in high school, but the mean girls left me alone.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc95l1q | A story in that vein...
I trolled a bunch of fellow students at one of those diagnostic/practice SAT exams that Kaplan gives for free to get people to sign up for ridiculously overpriced classes.
A mean, popular girl from my school forgot her calculator, so I lent her mine and took the test without a calculator. We marked each other's exams, and it was hilarious to see people's expressions. (I mean, the tests all say you don't need a calculator to solve them!) What they did not know was that I had attended and now taught for a SAT math class at the local Chinese school (something like $50/semester) and had been able to pull off the no-calculator perfect-math-section for at least a year by then. | I was super nerdy in high school, but the mean girls left me alone. |
classicspartan | I'm going to tell this exactly as I remember it. My three friends and I were on campus in Tucson getting ready to go out for the night on halloween. We were all wearing the boxes from 30-racks, with duct tape suspenders as our costumes. We're just leaving my buddy's apartment, passing around a bottle of vodka to pregame. I would say at this point we're a solid 4-5/10.
All of a sudden, we hear 7 gunshots ring out into the night from what could've been 50 ft away. We all go different directions, it's every man for himself. I bolt under, yes, fully under a random parked car. I feel my heart rate skyrocketing, so drunk me begins doing pushups. Why? No idea. Oh, I was out from under the car by this point. Anyways, our cab comes, we pile in, and he drives one block to see six squad cars surrounding a bloody corpse. They were just about to lay the sheet over the body, but we got a pretty good look. Our cabby says "You guys wanna pull over and check this out?" Let me think: 12 cops, dead body, a bottle of vodka my 3 drunk friends, me. Nah. We're good.
Takes us to the party, which actually wasn't anything special. It was huge, in a giant "mansion," but the thing about these mansion parties in Tucson is that theyre often overcrowded and rarely stocked with alcohol, resulting in a huge hype, but pretty quick decline. So we stay for a bit, talk to some people, grab a couple bottles of wine, then leave. As we're leaving the party, my friend drops a bottle. It cracks the top off, but about half the wine is still inside. This jagged weapon is now his drink of choice for some reason for the rest of the night. *You wanna know how I got these scars?*
My one friend and I start walking down the road because we see cops around, and don't wanna be at ground zero when shit goes down. We're easily a 7-8/10 now. Very drunk. We hear party sounds from a random house a couple doors down. What do we do? We walk in, of course. Everyone in there seems to be having a good time, but they're all in uniforms of some kind, which confuses drunk me and my friend. We walk to the kitchen, make a drink. Everyone is giving us these strange looks. We walk around a bit, by now the whole party is looking at us. Finally, the music turns off, and one big dude comes up to us and says "Hey, no one knows who you are, we think you guys gotta leave. Now." To which I reply, "Well isn't that the point of a party? To meet people?" But we leave, not wanting to cause trouble. Thats when we see the giant banner outside the house proclaiming with pride that this, this is the "Marching band house." Like frat/sorority houses? This was the marching band house. Now the uniforms make sense.
Moving on, we were pretty pissed off at being kicked out of the house, so we squat, pull the ole trousers round the ankles, and lay twin stinkpickles on the steps leading to the door. Note: for the record, for some reason it takes a lot longer to poop in public, for some reason.
Hike the pants up, we're on our way again. Walking aimlessly, not even on any sidewalks anymore, just in back alleys in south Tucson. We wander into a random yard with the shell of a car surrounded by huge weeds. We sit in the car to catch our breath, light up a joint, take a load off. Calm down a little. We were still pretty angry about the marching band party.
After a good hour sitting in the car, we decide it's time to keep moving. By this point, we're back down to probably a 6/10, but somewhat stoned as well. It's 3:40am (for some reason I remember this exact time). My friend says to me "Hey, I'm gonna turn my phone off." I ask why, and he bolts. Just sprints off in the other direction. I'm drunk, high, tired, so I say fuck it, whatever, and continue to wak towards what I believe to be the direction of home. Good luck, good riddance, man. I'm almost home, and I see a stray cat! A real beauty. All white, except for little black patches on it's paws. I pick up some moldy bread from the street, and try and coax this little wonder towards me. Eventually, he notices and comes my way. In an uncharacteristic display of agility, I lash out and grab him, but surprisingly he doesn't squirm. So, it's around 4am, there's a 20 year old drunk/high kid walking with a cat in the middle of the street.
Wrapping up, I get back to my friends apartment, give the cat a cup of beer to drink, and pass out. Ended up being a successful night, and thats how my friends and I got Mittens.
TL;DR: dead guy, marching band, giant poop, car, found a cat. | I'm going to tell this exactly as I remember it. My three friends and I were on campus in Tucson getting ready to go out for the night on halloween. We were all wearing the boxes from 30-racks, with duct tape suspenders as our costumes. We're just leaving my buddy's apartment, passing around a bottle of vodka to pregame. I would say at this point we're a solid 4-5/10.
All of a sudden, we hear 7 gunshots ring out into the night from what could've been 50 ft away. We all go different directions, it's every man for himself. I bolt under, yes, fully under a random parked car. I feel my heart rate skyrocketing, so drunk me begins doing pushups. Why? No idea. Oh, I was out from under the car by this point. Anyways, our cab comes, we pile in, and he drives one block to see six squad cars surrounding a bloody corpse. They were just about to lay the sheet over the body, but we got a pretty good look. Our cabby says "You guys wanna pull over and check this out?" Let me think: 12 cops, dead body, a bottle of vodka my 3 drunk friends, me. Nah. We're good.
Takes us to the party, which actually wasn't anything special. It was huge, in a giant "mansion," but the thing about these mansion parties in Tucson is that theyre often overcrowded and rarely stocked with alcohol, resulting in a huge hype, but pretty quick decline. So we stay for a bit, talk to some people, grab a couple bottles of wine, then leave. As we're leaving the party, my friend drops a bottle. It cracks the top off, but about half the wine is still inside. This jagged weapon is now his drink of choice for some reason for the rest of the night. You wanna know how I got these scars?
My one friend and I start walking down the road because we see cops around, and don't wanna be at ground zero when shit goes down. We're easily a 7-8/10 now. Very drunk. We hear party sounds from a random house a couple doors down. What do we do? We walk in, of course. Everyone in there seems to be having a good time, but they're all in uniforms of some kind, which confuses drunk me and my friend. We walk to the kitchen, make a drink. Everyone is giving us these strange looks. We walk around a bit, by now the whole party is looking at us. Finally, the music turns off, and one big dude comes up to us and says "Hey, no one knows who you are, we think you guys gotta leave. Now." To which I reply, "Well isn't that the point of a party? To meet people?" But we leave, not wanting to cause trouble. Thats when we see the giant banner outside the house proclaiming with pride that this, this is the "Marching band house." Like frat/sorority houses? This was the marching band house. Now the uniforms make sense.
Moving on, we were pretty pissed off at being kicked out of the house, so we squat, pull the ole trousers round the ankles, and lay twin stinkpickles on the steps leading to the door. Note: for the record, for some reason it takes a lot longer to poop in public, for some reason.
Hike the pants up, we're on our way again. Walking aimlessly, not even on any sidewalks anymore, just in back alleys in south Tucson. We wander into a random yard with the shell of a car surrounded by huge weeds. We sit in the car to catch our breath, light up a joint, take a load off. Calm down a little. We were still pretty angry about the marching band party.
After a good hour sitting in the car, we decide it's time to keep moving. By this point, we're back down to probably a 6/10, but somewhat stoned as well. It's 3:40am (for some reason I remember this exact time). My friend says to me "Hey, I'm gonna turn my phone off." I ask why, and he bolts. Just sprints off in the other direction. I'm drunk, high, tired, so I say fuck it, whatever, and continue to wak towards what I believe to be the direction of home. Good luck, good riddance, man. I'm almost home, and I see a stray cat! A real beauty. All white, except for little black patches on it's paws. I pick up some moldy bread from the street, and try and coax this little wonder towards me. Eventually, he notices and comes my way. In an uncharacteristic display of agility, I lash out and grab him, but surprisingly he doesn't squirm. So, it's around 4am, there's a 20 year old drunk/high kid walking with a cat in the middle of the street.
Wrapping up, I get back to my friends apartment, give the cat a cup of beer to drink, and pass out. Ended up being a successful night, and thats how my friends and I got Mittens.
TL;DR: dead guy, marching band, giant poop, car, found a cat.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc95l8u | I'm going to tell this exactly as I remember it. My three friends and I were on campus in Tucson getting ready to go out for the night on halloween. We were all wearing the boxes from 30-racks, with duct tape suspenders as our costumes. We're just leaving my buddy's apartment, passing around a bottle of vodka to pregame. I would say at this point we're a solid 4-5/10.
All of a sudden, we hear 7 gunshots ring out into the night from what could've been 50 ft away. We all go different directions, it's every man for himself. I bolt under, yes, fully under a random parked car. I feel my heart rate skyrocketing, so drunk me begins doing pushups. Why? No idea. Oh, I was out from under the car by this point. Anyways, our cab comes, we pile in, and he drives one block to see six squad cars surrounding a bloody corpse. They were just about to lay the sheet over the body, but we got a pretty good look. Our cabby says "You guys wanna pull over and check this out?" Let me think: 12 cops, dead body, a bottle of vodka my 3 drunk friends, me. Nah. We're good.
Takes us to the party, which actually wasn't anything special. It was huge, in a giant "mansion," but the thing about these mansion parties in Tucson is that theyre often overcrowded and rarely stocked with alcohol, resulting in a huge hype, but pretty quick decline. So we stay for a bit, talk to some people, grab a couple bottles of wine, then leave. As we're leaving the party, my friend drops a bottle. It cracks the top off, but about half the wine is still inside. This jagged weapon is now his drink of choice for some reason for the rest of the night. You wanna know how I got these scars?
My one friend and I start walking down the road because we see cops around, and don't wanna be at ground zero when shit goes down. We're easily a 7-8/10 now. Very drunk. We hear party sounds from a random house a couple doors down. What do we do? We walk in, of course. Everyone in there seems to be having a good time, but they're all in uniforms of some kind, which confuses drunk me and my friend. We walk to the kitchen, make a drink. Everyone is giving us these strange looks. We walk around a bit, by now the whole party is looking at us. Finally, the music turns off, and one big dude comes up to us and says "Hey, no one knows who you are, we think you guys gotta leave. Now." To which I reply, "Well isn't that the point of a party? To meet people?" But we leave, not wanting to cause trouble. Thats when we see the giant banner outside the house proclaiming with pride that this, this is the "Marching band house." Like frat/sorority houses? This was the marching band house. Now the uniforms make sense.
Moving on, we were pretty pissed off at being kicked out of the house, so we squat, pull the ole trousers round the ankles, and lay twin stinkpickles on the steps leading to the door. Note: for the record, for some reason it takes a lot longer to poop in public, for some reason.
Hike the pants up, we're on our way again. Walking aimlessly, not even on any sidewalks anymore, just in back alleys in south Tucson. We wander into a random yard with the shell of a car surrounded by huge weeds. We sit in the car to catch our breath, light up a joint, take a load off. Calm down a little. We were still pretty angry about the marching band party.
After a good hour sitting in the car, we decide it's time to keep moving. By this point, we're back down to probably a 6/10, but somewhat stoned as well. It's 3:40am (for some reason I remember this exact time). My friend says to me "Hey, I'm gonna turn my phone off." I ask why, and he bolts. Just sprints off in the other direction. I'm drunk, high, tired, so I say fuck it, whatever, and continue to wak towards what I believe to be the direction of home. Good luck, good riddance, man. I'm almost home, and I see a stray cat! A real beauty. All white, except for little black patches on it's paws. I pick up some moldy bread from the street, and try and coax this little wonder towards me. Eventually, he notices and comes my way. In an uncharacteristic display of agility, I lash out and grab him, but surprisingly he doesn't squirm. So, it's around 4am, there's a 20 year old drunk/high kid walking with a cat in the middle of the street.
Wrapping up, I get back to my friends apartment, give the cat a cup of beer to drink, and pass out. Ended up being a successful night, and thats how my friends and I got Mittens. | dead guy, marching band, giant poop, car, found a cat. |
BakeAked | My friend lit a turd on fire and it smelled so horrible that I threw up and then a raccoon ate my throw up.
TL;DR Raccoon ate flaming turd barf. | My friend lit a turd on fire and it smelled so horrible that I threw up and then a raccoon ate my throw up.
TL;DR Raccoon ate flaming turd barf.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc95lem | My friend lit a turd on fire and it smelled so horrible that I threw up and then a raccoon ate my throw up. | Raccoon ate flaming turd barf. |
oneannie | I did this to my brother once when I thought I was home alone. My cat managed to rip the shower curtain bar off the wall in the downstairs bathroom so I heard a huge bang and momentarily forgot that I had a dumbass cat who does stupid stuff like that all the time. After debating it and figuring I'd rather be an idiot for just hearing things than being the next *inspired by true events* victim in a horror movie, I decided to make the call. Two cops in my house pointing a gun at my shirtless brother who literally just said *wtf* and went back downstairs.
TL;DR I called the cops on my brother and made an ass hat of myself. | I did this to my brother once when I thought I was home alone. My cat managed to rip the shower curtain bar off the wall in the downstairs bathroom so I heard a huge bang and momentarily forgot that I had a dumbass cat who does stupid stuff like that all the time. After debating it and figuring I'd rather be an idiot for just hearing things than being the next inspired by true events victim in a horror movie, I decided to make the call. Two cops in my house pointing a gun at my shirtless brother who literally just said wtf and went back downstairs.
TL;DR I called the cops on my brother and made an ass hat of myself.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc95pl1 | I did this to my brother once when I thought I was home alone. My cat managed to rip the shower curtain bar off the wall in the downstairs bathroom so I heard a huge bang and momentarily forgot that I had a dumbass cat who does stupid stuff like that all the time. After debating it and figuring I'd rather be an idiot for just hearing things than being the next inspired by true events victim in a horror movie, I decided to make the call. Two cops in my house pointing a gun at my shirtless brother who literally just said wtf and went back downstairs. | I called the cops on my brother and made an ass hat of myself. |
Nizzo | One guy at my middle school sprayed Lysol in his Civics teacher's coffee. The teacher wasn't bad, the kid was just a dick. Everyone knew it, and yet the whole next week folks were out yelling "FREE (NAME)".
tldr middle school is a fuckfest. | One guy at my middle school sprayed Lysol in his Civics teacher's coffee. The teacher wasn't bad, the kid was just a dick. Everyone knew it, and yet the whole next week folks were out yelling "FREE (NAME)".
tldr middle school is a fuckfest.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc95q9x | One guy at my middle school sprayed Lysol in his Civics teacher's coffee. The teacher wasn't bad, the kid was just a dick. Everyone knew it, and yet the whole next week folks were out yelling "FREE (NAME)". | middle school is a fuckfest. |
mmmmissy | When I was 18 I jumped into the pool at Casa Bonita. That's trespassing. I was hand cuffed and police were called.
For those of you who don't know about Casa Bonita, it's a restaurant that is "styled like Mexico" and is meant as a place for entrainment. There is a 15 foot cliff in the middle of the restaurant and a pool at the bottom that hired divers perform on/in. I jumped in from the top with all my clothes on because of a dare.
The manager didn't press charges though, because upon listening to my friends discuss pooling bail money instead of ditching me, he figured we weren't bad kids.
Tldr: jumped into pool at Casa Bonita. Handcuffed but not arrested because my friends are awesome. | When I was 18 I jumped into the pool at Casa Bonita. That's trespassing. I was hand cuffed and police were called.
For those of you who don't know about Casa Bonita, it's a restaurant that is "styled like Mexico" and is meant as a place for entrainment. There is a 15 foot cliff in the middle of the restaurant and a pool at the bottom that hired divers perform on/in. I jumped in from the top with all my clothes on because of a dare.
The manager didn't press charges though, because upon listening to my friends discuss pooling bail money instead of ditching me, he figured we weren't bad kids.
Tldr: jumped into pool at Casa Bonita. Handcuffed but not arrested because my friends are awesome.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc95sbx | When I was 18 I jumped into the pool at Casa Bonita. That's trespassing. I was hand cuffed and police were called.
For those of you who don't know about Casa Bonita, it's a restaurant that is "styled like Mexico" and is meant as a place for entrainment. There is a 15 foot cliff in the middle of the restaurant and a pool at the bottom that hired divers perform on/in. I jumped in from the top with all my clothes on because of a dare.
The manager didn't press charges though, because upon listening to my friends discuss pooling bail money instead of ditching me, he figured we weren't bad kids. | jumped into pool at Casa Bonita. Handcuffed but not arrested because my friends are awesome. |
moonshinejester | 6 hour old post? My story to be buried with certainty? Let's hit it.
About two and a half years ago, artificial marijuana was rising in popularity in my hometown. My buddy and I got some, and, on 4/20, we smoked about a half a gram each. For non-pot smokers, that's really not that much.
The issue was, when we were smoking it, it felt sharp and acrid and terrible. That should have been my first hint. We kept going though, just assuming it was how it worked, and when we were done, we made our way back into the house. We didn't make it there. I stopped first, at the door, but my hands felt frozen. I could barely move them. So my buddy tries the door, and unlocks it, then stops. He takes two steps away, and starts swaying on the driveway. I walk up behind him, trying to make sure he's okay. He dropped like a stone, and I caught him (barely), and lowered him down onto the pavement. My brain shorted, I heard myself say "yeah, laying down is a good idea," and pitched backwards. Luckily, my head landed in the grass, so I wasn't brain damaged or anything.
Cue excessively vivid and sharp hallucinations. I thought I died. I saw flashing patterns, and felt waves of emotions, first euphoria, then sudden, sharp, agonising disappointment, then overwhelming sadness, then euphoria again. Those three repeated over and over while I observed my hallucination. Mind you, during this, I am passed out on the driveway, so this is all happening inside of my head. I started to watch, and I noticed that the flashing lights, like the emotions I was feeling, had a pattern. That pattern was that the Universe ran in cycles, with humanity young, happy, euphoric, and then they discovered truth, and as they discovered more and more truth, the euphoria faded into disappointment. Then, as humanity accepted the truth, the disappointment manifested into sadness and general misery. This repeated for what felt like centuries, as I began to adapt to my role as a silent observer in a Universe that I was slowly understanding. I became a god. Then, suddenly, I opened my eyes.
I stood up, still violently too high, and walked over to my friend, who was still on the ground. I shook him awake, and we stumbled inside. My buddy beelined for the toilet and started throwing up pretty bad (I shudder to think of what would have happened if he started throwing up when he was passed out). We changed clothes to get the smell to go away, and then my friend laid down on his bed and I started to wander the house. Except I was having issues. There were patterns everywhere. Always. The way I walked, the way the trees moved in the wind, the way that the houses were shaped, all patterns. I could see them all. About 5 minutes after this realisation, I felt myself blacking out again, and fought it. Instead of passing out, I just felt waves upon waves upon waves of deja vu. Terrible, terrible deja vu. I felt like every action I had ever made was something I had done millions of times in the past, but I had just forgotten that I used to do it. Meanwhile, patterns are still swirling around, which didn't help.
About 3 hours later, there was no sign that I was coming down from my high, so I laid down to go to sleep. I woke up about 9 hours later, with faint patterns still dancing at the edge of my vision. My buddy and I talked about it, and he told me he had a hallucination very similar to mine - him being the master of a Universe. We also both suffered terrible deja vu, although the patterns seemed to only be for me. We also discovered that the stuff we smoked was laced with both mushrooms and very small amounts of heroin.
It took weeks for the deja vu to not cripple us and make us practically faint when it came over us (which was incredibly frequently), but even to this day, when we have deja vu, we're terribly disoriented for up to half a minute at a time, and often comes once a day. We have both been looked at by doctors who declared that it isn't dangerous, and we'll both be fine.
TL;DR - Two and a half years ago, my buddy and I smoked artificial marijuana that we didn't realise had been laced with 'shrooms and heroin, and the effects last even to this day. | 6 hour old post? My story to be buried with certainty? Let's hit it.
About two and a half years ago, artificial marijuana was rising in popularity in my hometown. My buddy and I got some, and, on 4/20, we smoked about a half a gram each. For non-pot smokers, that's really not that much.
The issue was, when we were smoking it, it felt sharp and acrid and terrible. That should have been my first hint. We kept going though, just assuming it was how it worked, and when we were done, we made our way back into the house. We didn't make it there. I stopped first, at the door, but my hands felt frozen. I could barely move them. So my buddy tries the door, and unlocks it, then stops. He takes two steps away, and starts swaying on the driveway. I walk up behind him, trying to make sure he's okay. He dropped like a stone, and I caught him (barely), and lowered him down onto the pavement. My brain shorted, I heard myself say "yeah, laying down is a good idea," and pitched backwards. Luckily, my head landed in the grass, so I wasn't brain damaged or anything.
Cue excessively vivid and sharp hallucinations. I thought I died. I saw flashing patterns, and felt waves of emotions, first euphoria, then sudden, sharp, agonising disappointment, then overwhelming sadness, then euphoria again. Those three repeated over and over while I observed my hallucination. Mind you, during this, I am passed out on the driveway, so this is all happening inside of my head. I started to watch, and I noticed that the flashing lights, like the emotions I was feeling, had a pattern. That pattern was that the Universe ran in cycles, with humanity young, happy, euphoric, and then they discovered truth, and as they discovered more and more truth, the euphoria faded into disappointment. Then, as humanity accepted the truth, the disappointment manifested into sadness and general misery. This repeated for what felt like centuries, as I began to adapt to my role as a silent observer in a Universe that I was slowly understanding. I became a god. Then, suddenly, I opened my eyes.
I stood up, still violently too high, and walked over to my friend, who was still on the ground. I shook him awake, and we stumbled inside. My buddy beelined for the toilet and started throwing up pretty bad (I shudder to think of what would have happened if he started throwing up when he was passed out). We changed clothes to get the smell to go away, and then my friend laid down on his bed and I started to wander the house. Except I was having issues. There were patterns everywhere. Always. The way I walked, the way the trees moved in the wind, the way that the houses were shaped, all patterns. I could see them all. About 5 minutes after this realisation, I felt myself blacking out again, and fought it. Instead of passing out, I just felt waves upon waves upon waves of deja vu. Terrible, terrible deja vu. I felt like every action I had ever made was something I had done millions of times in the past, but I had just forgotten that I used to do it. Meanwhile, patterns are still swirling around, which didn't help.
About 3 hours later, there was no sign that I was coming down from my high, so I laid down to go to sleep. I woke up about 9 hours later, with faint patterns still dancing at the edge of my vision. My buddy and I talked about it, and he told me he had a hallucination very similar to mine - him being the master of a Universe. We also both suffered terrible deja vu, although the patterns seemed to only be for me. We also discovered that the stuff we smoked was laced with both mushrooms and very small amounts of heroin.
It took weeks for the deja vu to not cripple us and make us practically faint when it came over us (which was incredibly frequently), but even to this day, when we have deja vu, we're terribly disoriented for up to half a minute at a time, and often comes once a day. We have both been looked at by doctors who declared that it isn't dangerous, and we'll both be fine.
TL;DR - Two and a half years ago, my buddy and I smoked artificial marijuana that we didn't realise had been laced with 'shrooms and heroin, and the effects last even to this day.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc9627c | 6 hour old post? My story to be buried with certainty? Let's hit it.
About two and a half years ago, artificial marijuana was rising in popularity in my hometown. My buddy and I got some, and, on 4/20, we smoked about a half a gram each. For non-pot smokers, that's really not that much.
The issue was, when we were smoking it, it felt sharp and acrid and terrible. That should have been my first hint. We kept going though, just assuming it was how it worked, and when we were done, we made our way back into the house. We didn't make it there. I stopped first, at the door, but my hands felt frozen. I could barely move them. So my buddy tries the door, and unlocks it, then stops. He takes two steps away, and starts swaying on the driveway. I walk up behind him, trying to make sure he's okay. He dropped like a stone, and I caught him (barely), and lowered him down onto the pavement. My brain shorted, I heard myself say "yeah, laying down is a good idea," and pitched backwards. Luckily, my head landed in the grass, so I wasn't brain damaged or anything.
Cue excessively vivid and sharp hallucinations. I thought I died. I saw flashing patterns, and felt waves of emotions, first euphoria, then sudden, sharp, agonising disappointment, then overwhelming sadness, then euphoria again. Those three repeated over and over while I observed my hallucination. Mind you, during this, I am passed out on the driveway, so this is all happening inside of my head. I started to watch, and I noticed that the flashing lights, like the emotions I was feeling, had a pattern. That pattern was that the Universe ran in cycles, with humanity young, happy, euphoric, and then they discovered truth, and as they discovered more and more truth, the euphoria faded into disappointment. Then, as humanity accepted the truth, the disappointment manifested into sadness and general misery. This repeated for what felt like centuries, as I began to adapt to my role as a silent observer in a Universe that I was slowly understanding. I became a god. Then, suddenly, I opened my eyes.
I stood up, still violently too high, and walked over to my friend, who was still on the ground. I shook him awake, and we stumbled inside. My buddy beelined for the toilet and started throwing up pretty bad (I shudder to think of what would have happened if he started throwing up when he was passed out). We changed clothes to get the smell to go away, and then my friend laid down on his bed and I started to wander the house. Except I was having issues. There were patterns everywhere. Always. The way I walked, the way the trees moved in the wind, the way that the houses were shaped, all patterns. I could see them all. About 5 minutes after this realisation, I felt myself blacking out again, and fought it. Instead of passing out, I just felt waves upon waves upon waves of deja vu. Terrible, terrible deja vu. I felt like every action I had ever made was something I had done millions of times in the past, but I had just forgotten that I used to do it. Meanwhile, patterns are still swirling around, which didn't help.
About 3 hours later, there was no sign that I was coming down from my high, so I laid down to go to sleep. I woke up about 9 hours later, with faint patterns still dancing at the edge of my vision. My buddy and I talked about it, and he told me he had a hallucination very similar to mine - him being the master of a Universe. We also both suffered terrible deja vu, although the patterns seemed to only be for me. We also discovered that the stuff we smoked was laced with both mushrooms and very small amounts of heroin.
It took weeks for the deja vu to not cripple us and make us practically faint when it came over us (which was incredibly frequently), but even to this day, when we have deja vu, we're terribly disoriented for up to half a minute at a time, and often comes once a day. We have both been looked at by doctors who declared that it isn't dangerous, and we'll both be fine. | Two and a half years ago, my buddy and I smoked artificial marijuana that we didn't realise had been laced with 'shrooms and heroin, and the effects last even to this day. |
turmacar | So me and 2 friends are backpacking around Europe to get to a Unicycle convention. (Like everyone does right?) (www.unicon16.it/)
Anyway, in Amsterdam we're having a fun time, and this one buddy... name of... Uni-guy, keeps talking about the one thing he has to do before we leave. Like everyone else visiting Amsterdam, the one thing he wants to do before he leaves is slack-line across a canal.
So the first day or so we are kind of on the lookout for a quiet, smaller canal to accomplish this task. Find one, go back to drinking, come back later with the slack-line gear.
In the course of setting up we gather a 'crowd' of 2 random pretty girls, 3 British guys from the hostel, and a few people hanging out their windows to watch this moron American kill himself.
After a few false starts he begins walking across in earnest. The people snap a few pics, I get some nice ones as he comes toward me, and after a close call he makes it across and steps off, ecstatic.
This is about the time the police arrive.
I wish I had been shooting video so I'd have that part on film. Basically they determine that a) we're morons and b) none of us speak Dutch. So after warning us as well as they can that slack-lining the canal would be dangerous and we should not do it, (broken glass, metal bits from boats, and who knows what else) they make us take down the line and drive off. (Which we're happy to do cus, mission complete) About this time me and Uni-guy notice that *no one* else is around. They apparently scattered, so we finish packing up and head back to the hostel with some pictures.
TL;DR: Canals for fun and drinking stories. | So me and 2 friends are backpacking around Europe to get to a Unicycle convention. (Like everyone does right?) (www.unicon16.it/)
Anyway, in Amsterdam we're having a fun time, and this one buddy... name of... Uni-guy, keeps talking about the one thing he has to do before we leave. Like everyone else visiting Amsterdam, the one thing he wants to do before he leaves is slack-line across a canal.
So the first day or so we are kind of on the lookout for a quiet, smaller canal to accomplish this task. Find one, go back to drinking, come back later with the slack-line gear.
In the course of setting up we gather a 'crowd' of 2 random pretty girls, 3 British guys from the hostel, and a few people hanging out their windows to watch this moron American kill himself.
After a few false starts he begins walking across in earnest. The people snap a few pics, I get some nice ones as he comes toward me, and after a close call he makes it across and steps off, ecstatic.
This is about the time the police arrive.
I wish I had been shooting video so I'd have that part on film. Basically they determine that a) we're morons and b) none of us speak Dutch. So after warning us as well as they can that slack-lining the canal would be dangerous and we should not do it, (broken glass, metal bits from boats, and who knows what else) they make us take down the line and drive off. (Which we're happy to do cus, mission complete) About this time me and Uni-guy notice that no one else is around. They apparently scattered, so we finish packing up and head back to the hostel with some pictures.
TL;DR: Canals for fun and drinking stories.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96aby | So me and 2 friends are backpacking around Europe to get to a Unicycle convention. (Like everyone does right?) (www.unicon16.it/)
Anyway, in Amsterdam we're having a fun time, and this one buddy... name of... Uni-guy, keeps talking about the one thing he has to do before we leave. Like everyone else visiting Amsterdam, the one thing he wants to do before he leaves is slack-line across a canal.
So the first day or so we are kind of on the lookout for a quiet, smaller canal to accomplish this task. Find one, go back to drinking, come back later with the slack-line gear.
In the course of setting up we gather a 'crowd' of 2 random pretty girls, 3 British guys from the hostel, and a few people hanging out their windows to watch this moron American kill himself.
After a few false starts he begins walking across in earnest. The people snap a few pics, I get some nice ones as he comes toward me, and after a close call he makes it across and steps off, ecstatic.
This is about the time the police arrive.
I wish I had been shooting video so I'd have that part on film. Basically they determine that a) we're morons and b) none of us speak Dutch. So after warning us as well as they can that slack-lining the canal would be dangerous and we should not do it, (broken glass, metal bits from boats, and who knows what else) they make us take down the line and drive off. (Which we're happy to do cus, mission complete) About this time me and Uni-guy notice that no one else is around. They apparently scattered, so we finish packing up and head back to the hostel with some pictures. | Canals for fun and drinking stories. |
Martinkle | When I was in the first grade, I peed in my pants during storytime which was right before last recess. When the bell rang to start the last break I was the last to leave and I went into the bathroom while everyone went outside.
I cleaned myself up just as the bell rang to end recess and i walk in to a discussion about what the yellow puddle on the floor was. I told them that I spilled some water or whatever when we were leaving.
My teacher said no problem and he grabbed a rolled of paper towels and a bunch of my classmates started cleaning it up.
Let me tell you, the paper towel used was not very good, so kids had pee on their hands, and they were spreading it around on the floor while i watched, too horrified of what might happen if they found out to say what it really was.
TL;DR: in gr 1 I peed on the floor and my classmates cleaned it up while i watched. | When I was in the first grade, I peed in my pants during storytime which was right before last recess. When the bell rang to start the last break I was the last to leave and I went into the bathroom while everyone went outside.
I cleaned myself up just as the bell rang to end recess and i walk in to a discussion about what the yellow puddle on the floor was. I told them that I spilled some water or whatever when we were leaving.
My teacher said no problem and he grabbed a rolled of paper towels and a bunch of my classmates started cleaning it up.
Let me tell you, the paper towel used was not very good, so kids had pee on their hands, and they were spreading it around on the floor while i watched, too horrified of what might happen if they found out to say what it really was.
TL;DR: in gr 1 I peed on the floor and my classmates cleaned it up while i watched.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96b55 | When I was in the first grade, I peed in my pants during storytime which was right before last recess. When the bell rang to start the last break I was the last to leave and I went into the bathroom while everyone went outside.
I cleaned myself up just as the bell rang to end recess and i walk in to a discussion about what the yellow puddle on the floor was. I told them that I spilled some water or whatever when we were leaving.
My teacher said no problem and he grabbed a rolled of paper towels and a bunch of my classmates started cleaning it up.
Let me tell you, the paper towel used was not very good, so kids had pee on their hands, and they were spreading it around on the floor while i watched, too horrified of what might happen if they found out to say what it really was. | in gr 1 I peed on the floor and my classmates cleaned it up while i watched. |
Moose2418 | Reposting one of my stories because it can be relevant here
Probably the time back when i did lawn work on houses. I had this client who would always have me over to do their lawn about once a week. It was good pay and all but there was one horrible factor, the neighboring dogs.
This family never put up a fence to keep those dastardly barking dogs. Every time i went over, they would bark at me and not stop for however how long I was there. I told the owners about the dogs and they said that they aren't affecting my work, so I shouldn't complain.
Then they started the pissing. Oh god how much they pissed on my work. I complained to the neighbors again telling them they are now affecting my work and asked if anything could be done. They said I had no proof that the dogs were pissing on my work, so they ignored me.
That's when the dogs crossed the line. The stupid brown poodle pissed on my fucking lawnmower. THEN IT SHAT ON IT! That was the last straw. I went over to their doghouse and unzipped my pants. I whipped out my dick and started my work. I pissed all over the entrance and got some inside. I was fucking giddy as fuck! The dogs whimpered and ran into the house through the doggy door. Mission accomplished, won’t have any problems after that.
Then i heard a scream, the loud blood curdling scream. The owner of the dogs was bawling and crying, she saw what I had done. Her short wimpy looking husband came out and asked what was going on. She was crying so much she couldn't make out anything at all. He asked once more and she exclaimed "HE PEED!" but i was out before he could see me. My lawn equipment was back in my truck already and I was driving out. Didn’t even finish the lawn.
The people who hired me never called me back again, it was likely the neighbors told them what I did, but i didn't care. I was a champion, I was triumphant! I put those dogs in their place!
Oh, I also lost my virginity that day. Not that the two are connected though.
TL;DR neighboring dogs barked at me, escalated to me getting pissed
| Reposting one of my stories because it can be relevant here
Probably the time back when i did lawn work on houses. I had this client who would always have me over to do their lawn about once a week. It was good pay and all but there was one horrible factor, the neighboring dogs.
This family never put up a fence to keep those dastardly barking dogs. Every time i went over, they would bark at me and not stop for however how long I was there. I told the owners about the dogs and they said that they aren't affecting my work, so I shouldn't complain.
Then they started the pissing. Oh god how much they pissed on my work. I complained to the neighbors again telling them they are now affecting my work and asked if anything could be done. They said I had no proof that the dogs were pissing on my work, so they ignored me.
That's when the dogs crossed the line. The stupid brown poodle pissed on my fucking lawnmower. THEN IT SHAT ON IT! That was the last straw. I went over to their doghouse and unzipped my pants. I whipped out my dick and started my work. I pissed all over the entrance and got some inside. I was fucking giddy as fuck! The dogs whimpered and ran into the house through the doggy door. Mission accomplished, won’t have any problems after that.
Then i heard a scream, the loud blood curdling scream. The owner of the dogs was bawling and crying, she saw what I had done. Her short wimpy looking husband came out and asked what was going on. She was crying so much she couldn't make out anything at all. He asked once more and she exclaimed "HE PEED!" but i was out before he could see me. My lawn equipment was back in my truck already and I was driving out. Didn’t even finish the lawn.
The people who hired me never called me back again, it was likely the neighbors told them what I did, but i didn't care. I was a champion, I was triumphant! I put those dogs in their place!
Oh, I also lost my virginity that day. Not that the two are connected though.
TL;DR neighboring dogs barked at me, escalated to me getting pissed
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96dgv | Reposting one of my stories because it can be relevant here
Probably the time back when i did lawn work on houses. I had this client who would always have me over to do their lawn about once a week. It was good pay and all but there was one horrible factor, the neighboring dogs.
This family never put up a fence to keep those dastardly barking dogs. Every time i went over, they would bark at me and not stop for however how long I was there. I told the owners about the dogs and they said that they aren't affecting my work, so I shouldn't complain.
Then they started the pissing. Oh god how much they pissed on my work. I complained to the neighbors again telling them they are now affecting my work and asked if anything could be done. They said I had no proof that the dogs were pissing on my work, so they ignored me.
That's when the dogs crossed the line. The stupid brown poodle pissed on my fucking lawnmower. THEN IT SHAT ON IT! That was the last straw. I went over to their doghouse and unzipped my pants. I whipped out my dick and started my work. I pissed all over the entrance and got some inside. I was fucking giddy as fuck! The dogs whimpered and ran into the house through the doggy door. Mission accomplished, won’t have any problems after that.
Then i heard a scream, the loud blood curdling scream. The owner of the dogs was bawling and crying, she saw what I had done. Her short wimpy looking husband came out and asked what was going on. She was crying so much she couldn't make out anything at all. He asked once more and she exclaimed "HE PEED!" but i was out before he could see me. My lawn equipment was back in my truck already and I was driving out. Didn’t even finish the lawn.
The people who hired me never called me back again, it was likely the neighbors told them what I did, but i didn't care. I was a champion, I was triumphant! I put those dogs in their place!
Oh, I also lost my virginity that day. Not that the two are connected though. | neighboring dogs barked at me, escalated to me getting pissed |
bydpark | I was waiting for my calc 3 lecture to start, and all these freshmen are so excited to get into the class. So much so that after letting only about 80% of the people out, they decide to start pushing themselves into the class (since it's so important to get the best seat to read your syllabus on the first day of class). So then there's this one kid trying hard to get out and other people behind him, and they're getting increasingly annoyed since they can't get out but aren't able to say anything about it. I was rooting for the kid in my heart, but he gave up. I felt like I couldn't just let that happen. Something in me just made me raise my hand, as though I was going to give a high-five, and say, "Halt!"
The sound resonated throughout the lecture hall and the GSI looked at me to see what was happening. Even more surprisingly, the sea of freshmen just stopped at my command, all waiting to see what else I was going to say. I gotta admit I was a bit nervous, but I motioned the kids inside over, and said, "Ayo, come out."
The kid, kinda confused and not knowing what to say, comes out and says, "Thanks."
I felt alpha as fuck. Like Alexander the Great leading his army.
TL;DR - I split the sea. | I was waiting for my calc 3 lecture to start, and all these freshmen are so excited to get into the class. So much so that after letting only about 80% of the people out, they decide to start pushing themselves into the class (since it's so important to get the best seat to read your syllabus on the first day of class). So then there's this one kid trying hard to get out and other people behind him, and they're getting increasingly annoyed since they can't get out but aren't able to say anything about it. I was rooting for the kid in my heart, but he gave up. I felt like I couldn't just let that happen. Something in me just made me raise my hand, as though I was going to give a high-five, and say, "Halt!"
The sound resonated throughout the lecture hall and the GSI looked at me to see what was happening. Even more surprisingly, the sea of freshmen just stopped at my command, all waiting to see what else I was going to say. I gotta admit I was a bit nervous, but I motioned the kids inside over, and said, "Ayo, come out."
The kid, kinda confused and not knowing what to say, comes out and says, "Thanks."
I felt alpha as fuck. Like Alexander the Great leading his army.
TL;DR - I split the sea.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96gla | I was waiting for my calc 3 lecture to start, and all these freshmen are so excited to get into the class. So much so that after letting only about 80% of the people out, they decide to start pushing themselves into the class (since it's so important to get the best seat to read your syllabus on the first day of class). So then there's this one kid trying hard to get out and other people behind him, and they're getting increasingly annoyed since they can't get out but aren't able to say anything about it. I was rooting for the kid in my heart, but he gave up. I felt like I couldn't just let that happen. Something in me just made me raise my hand, as though I was going to give a high-five, and say, "Halt!"
The sound resonated throughout the lecture hall and the GSI looked at me to see what was happening. Even more surprisingly, the sea of freshmen just stopped at my command, all waiting to see what else I was going to say. I gotta admit I was a bit nervous, but I motioned the kids inside over, and said, "Ayo, come out."
The kid, kinda confused and not knowing what to say, comes out and says, "Thanks."
I felt alpha as fuck. Like Alexander the Great leading his army. | I split the sea. |
TheAutumnPursuit | I doubt this will be seen but whatever
When I was about six years old my mom had went on vacation down in Florida to see my grandmother and brought back snow globes for my three sisters and myself.
Around that time, my older sister and I shared a bedroom and would often try to find things to do to entertain ourselves when we were supposed to be in bed. Well this one night my sister gets this grand idea to put our snow globes on the fan blades and then turn the fan on to see which would stay on the longest. There were two ceiling fans in our room, so we each put our globes on a blade on each fan, and let 'em rip.
The fans began to gain some speed, and both of our globes are clinging to the blades. After about twenty seconds, my sister's globe flies off and gently lands on the cushioned safety of her bed. Mine -- not so much. It's not until ten seconds later and the fan is running at almost full speed that I realized my grave error. The snow globe went *flying*. In a flash, I see my precious glass orb explode against the wall, glass busting down on to the floor and a glitter-filled water splattered everywhere. Not a minute later and my mother was in the room screaming at the top of her lungs. It wasn't the best ending to the night.
**TL;DR** - don't put snow globes on fan blades then turn it on
| I doubt this will be seen but whatever
When I was about six years old my mom had went on vacation down in Florida to see my grandmother and brought back snow globes for my three sisters and myself.
Around that time, my older sister and I shared a bedroom and would often try to find things to do to entertain ourselves when we were supposed to be in bed. Well this one night my sister gets this grand idea to put our snow globes on the fan blades and then turn the fan on to see which would stay on the longest. There were two ceiling fans in our room, so we each put our globes on a blade on each fan, and let 'em rip.
The fans began to gain some speed, and both of our globes are clinging to the blades. After about twenty seconds, my sister's globe flies off and gently lands on the cushioned safety of her bed. Mine -- not so much. It's not until ten seconds later and the fan is running at almost full speed that I realized my grave error. The snow globe went flying . In a flash, I see my precious glass orb explode against the wall, glass busting down on to the floor and a glitter-filled water splattered everywhere. Not a minute later and my mother was in the room screaming at the top of her lungs. It wasn't the best ending to the night.
TL;DR - don't put snow globes on fan blades then turn it on
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96gtq | I doubt this will be seen but whatever
When I was about six years old my mom had went on vacation down in Florida to see my grandmother and brought back snow globes for my three sisters and myself.
Around that time, my older sister and I shared a bedroom and would often try to find things to do to entertain ourselves when we were supposed to be in bed. Well this one night my sister gets this grand idea to put our snow globes on the fan blades and then turn the fan on to see which would stay on the longest. There were two ceiling fans in our room, so we each put our globes on a blade on each fan, and let 'em rip.
The fans began to gain some speed, and both of our globes are clinging to the blades. After about twenty seconds, my sister's globe flies off and gently lands on the cushioned safety of her bed. Mine -- not so much. It's not until ten seconds later and the fan is running at almost full speed that I realized my grave error. The snow globe went flying . In a flash, I see my precious glass orb explode against the wall, glass busting down on to the floor and a glitter-filled water splattered everywhere. Not a minute later and my mother was in the room screaming at the top of her lungs. It wasn't the best ending to the night. | don't put snow globes on fan blades then turn it on |
Jack_Cade | I was in Chicago '07 on a Theatre Internship. A cousin was showing me around the city and had bought me a few drinks since I wasn't 21 at the time, and I had also filled up my flask with jungle juice. After smoking and drinking with my cousin she had to run off. I'm an independent person and wanted to keep exploring the city even though I was more blitzed than a German offensive. I knew how to work the rail system so I didn't have to worry about getting around. Well I'm from the deep south and am not use to seeing all these skyscrapers so I'm staring up at them and being drunk and going through theatre aerobics because if you can conquer balance when drunk, you win. Well people see me doing this and start staring. I've done nude theatre, I'm shameless, I don't care. I don't really know many people in the city and go to chat with them because you can do that in the South. A few chat with me and go on their way and few hightail it out of there. It starts getting later and I'm in my screw-it mode. I'm a little annoyed by the rudeness of some of these people not realize different regions have different protocols. I see people walking and staring so I would cross the street and start following them. I would do really stupid stuff like act like a cartoon character tip toeing from shadow to shadow, or skip, or dance, or keep on doing my aerobics, mostly to show I wasn't a threat because who's dangerous that would do that? I ended up freaking a few people out to the point that they would start jogging and sprint off. I eventually started sobering up, hoped on the rail, and went to my apartment didn't think anything off it.
TL;DR - Years later I start seeing stories from various Chicago writers and Reddit. I don't know for sure but I think I might have become a character in a few creepy/scary stories. Apparently I'm the crazy smiling dancing man who would follow people in the night. | I was in Chicago '07 on a Theatre Internship. A cousin was showing me around the city and had bought me a few drinks since I wasn't 21 at the time, and I had also filled up my flask with jungle juice. After smoking and drinking with my cousin she had to run off. I'm an independent person and wanted to keep exploring the city even though I was more blitzed than a German offensive. I knew how to work the rail system so I didn't have to worry about getting around. Well I'm from the deep south and am not use to seeing all these skyscrapers so I'm staring up at them and being drunk and going through theatre aerobics because if you can conquer balance when drunk, you win. Well people see me doing this and start staring. I've done nude theatre, I'm shameless, I don't care. I don't really know many people in the city and go to chat with them because you can do that in the South. A few chat with me and go on their way and few hightail it out of there. It starts getting later and I'm in my screw-it mode. I'm a little annoyed by the rudeness of some of these people not realize different regions have different protocols. I see people walking and staring so I would cross the street and start following them. I would do really stupid stuff like act like a cartoon character tip toeing from shadow to shadow, or skip, or dance, or keep on doing my aerobics, mostly to show I wasn't a threat because who's dangerous that would do that? I ended up freaking a few people out to the point that they would start jogging and sprint off. I eventually started sobering up, hoped on the rail, and went to my apartment didn't think anything off it.
TL;DR - Years later I start seeing stories from various Chicago writers and Reddit. I don't know for sure but I think I might have become a character in a few creepy/scary stories. Apparently I'm the crazy smiling dancing man who would follow people in the night.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96hk3 | I was in Chicago '07 on a Theatre Internship. A cousin was showing me around the city and had bought me a few drinks since I wasn't 21 at the time, and I had also filled up my flask with jungle juice. After smoking and drinking with my cousin she had to run off. I'm an independent person and wanted to keep exploring the city even though I was more blitzed than a German offensive. I knew how to work the rail system so I didn't have to worry about getting around. Well I'm from the deep south and am not use to seeing all these skyscrapers so I'm staring up at them and being drunk and going through theatre aerobics because if you can conquer balance when drunk, you win. Well people see me doing this and start staring. I've done nude theatre, I'm shameless, I don't care. I don't really know many people in the city and go to chat with them because you can do that in the South. A few chat with me and go on their way and few hightail it out of there. It starts getting later and I'm in my screw-it mode. I'm a little annoyed by the rudeness of some of these people not realize different regions have different protocols. I see people walking and staring so I would cross the street and start following them. I would do really stupid stuff like act like a cartoon character tip toeing from shadow to shadow, or skip, or dance, or keep on doing my aerobics, mostly to show I wasn't a threat because who's dangerous that would do that? I ended up freaking a few people out to the point that they would start jogging and sprint off. I eventually started sobering up, hoped on the rail, and went to my apartment didn't think anything off it. | Years later I start seeing stories from various Chicago writers and Reddit. I don't know for sure but I think I might have become a character in a few creepy/scary stories. Apparently I'm the crazy smiling dancing man who would follow people in the night. |
Nick-Louie | One time I threw a party at my friend's house. A little bit of backstory, my friend's plumbing was all fucked up. The result was that whenever someone flushed the toilet, raw sewage (shit) would back up into either the toilet, or the sink. Keep in mind, we told everyone invited about the problem, and how they could not flush the toilet. Well this particular night a girl, who we'll call Sam, came over after taking a few xanex. She proceeded to drink a bunch of Cîroc. Now, everyone should know how bad of an idea that is. The following morning she wakes up, delirious of course, with no memory from last night. She asks to go to the bathroom room and freshen up, and I tell her to go on ahead, because I didn't really give a shit. Well, apparently someone flushed the toilet the night before... After hearing her run the sink for about ten minutes, I walked into the bathroom to see what she was doing (the door wasn't closed). The snapped her head at me, and gave me a look I'll never forget. You know that look that people give when they're really guilty? That's the one. Anyway, she started frantically rambling about how "it wasn't her fault" and how it "won't go back down". Naturally, I ask her "What the fuck are you talking about?". I walk over to the sink, and she is wrist deep in shit water, attempting to push turds back down the drain. I cannot make this up. She is really making the effort to push shit back down the drain. My jaw hits the floor. I call for my friend to come to the bathroom, and his jaw hits the floor right next to mine. I told her what she was actually doing, and she nearly busted into tears. I kind of felt bad for the girl, honestly. However, it was not bad enough to stop me from telling everyone in my high school. Its not like I made her put her hands in shit though..
tl;dr stupid girl wakes up hungover from a night or drinking and popping pills, puts her hands in shit. | One time I threw a party at my friend's house. A little bit of backstory, my friend's plumbing was all fucked up. The result was that whenever someone flushed the toilet, raw sewage (shit) would back up into either the toilet, or the sink. Keep in mind, we told everyone invited about the problem, and how they could not flush the toilet. Well this particular night a girl, who we'll call Sam, came over after taking a few xanex. She proceeded to drink a bunch of Cîroc. Now, everyone should know how bad of an idea that is. The following morning she wakes up, delirious of course, with no memory from last night. She asks to go to the bathroom room and freshen up, and I tell her to go on ahead, because I didn't really give a shit. Well, apparently someone flushed the toilet the night before... After hearing her run the sink for about ten minutes, I walked into the bathroom to see what she was doing (the door wasn't closed). The snapped her head at me, and gave me a look I'll never forget. You know that look that people give when they're really guilty? That's the one. Anyway, she started frantically rambling about how "it wasn't her fault" and how it "won't go back down". Naturally, I ask her "What the fuck are you talking about?". I walk over to the sink, and she is wrist deep in shit water, attempting to push turds back down the drain. I cannot make this up. She is really making the effort to push shit back down the drain. My jaw hits the floor. I call for my friend to come to the bathroom, and his jaw hits the floor right next to mine. I told her what she was actually doing, and she nearly busted into tears. I kind of felt bad for the girl, honestly. However, it was not bad enough to stop me from telling everyone in my high school. Its not like I made her put her hands in shit though..
tl;dr stupid girl wakes up hungover from a night or drinking and popping pills, puts her hands in shit.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96htl | One time I threw a party at my friend's house. A little bit of backstory, my friend's plumbing was all fucked up. The result was that whenever someone flushed the toilet, raw sewage (shit) would back up into either the toilet, or the sink. Keep in mind, we told everyone invited about the problem, and how they could not flush the toilet. Well this particular night a girl, who we'll call Sam, came over after taking a few xanex. She proceeded to drink a bunch of Cîroc. Now, everyone should know how bad of an idea that is. The following morning she wakes up, delirious of course, with no memory from last night. She asks to go to the bathroom room and freshen up, and I tell her to go on ahead, because I didn't really give a shit. Well, apparently someone flushed the toilet the night before... After hearing her run the sink for about ten minutes, I walked into the bathroom to see what she was doing (the door wasn't closed). The snapped her head at me, and gave me a look I'll never forget. You know that look that people give when they're really guilty? That's the one. Anyway, she started frantically rambling about how "it wasn't her fault" and how it "won't go back down". Naturally, I ask her "What the fuck are you talking about?". I walk over to the sink, and she is wrist deep in shit water, attempting to push turds back down the drain. I cannot make this up. She is really making the effort to push shit back down the drain. My jaw hits the floor. I call for my friend to come to the bathroom, and his jaw hits the floor right next to mine. I told her what she was actually doing, and she nearly busted into tears. I kind of felt bad for the girl, honestly. However, it was not bad enough to stop me from telling everyone in my high school. Its not like I made her put her hands in shit though.. | stupid girl wakes up hungover from a night or drinking and popping pills, puts her hands in shit. |
FatTurret | You rule.
I also had various similar experiences back in grade school, but this is one that I remember vividly. I was in fourth grade, and one of my younger sisters (in third grade) is really timid and was constantly picked on. One day, word got to me that one of my classmates made my sister cry. I stormed to my sis' classroom and asked her to tell me the name of said classmate. Once I found out, I located the guy (turned out to be one of the douchiest classmates I ever had), and proceeded to strangle him and hit him with a shoe. It happened so fast that the dude didn't have time to react. The story circled around campus (it was a small school) and everyone in my sister's class and mine became scared of me. No one dared to bully my sisters after that. The kicker? I'm a five-feet tall girl, the dude was taller than me.
tl;dr: Younger sis was bullied. Puny elder sis went Mama Bear apeshit and strangled and hit the bully with a shoe. Instant campus reputation.
EDIT: a letter
EDIT 2: For those asking about the height thing, yep, I was (and still am) five-feet tall back in fourth grade. Came from a family and a small community of tall people (haven't thought of why until now, prolly the families are related? No idea). I never grew. :( ^(ninja edit for the bully's height, which I may have overshot, hah, sorry. I suck at approximations.) | You rule.
I also had various similar experiences back in grade school, but this is one that I remember vividly. I was in fourth grade, and one of my younger sisters (in third grade) is really timid and was constantly picked on. One day, word got to me that one of my classmates made my sister cry. I stormed to my sis' classroom and asked her to tell me the name of said classmate. Once I found out, I located the guy (turned out to be one of the douchiest classmates I ever had), and proceeded to strangle him and hit him with a shoe. It happened so fast that the dude didn't have time to react. The story circled around campus (it was a small school) and everyone in my sister's class and mine became scared of me. No one dared to bully my sisters after that. The kicker? I'm a five-feet tall girl, the dude was taller than me.
tl;dr: Younger sis was bullied. Puny elder sis went Mama Bear apeshit and strangled and hit the bully with a shoe. Instant campus reputation.
EDIT: a letter
EDIT 2: For those asking about the height thing, yep, I was (and still am) five-feet tall back in fourth grade. Came from a family and a small community of tall people (haven't thought of why until now, prolly the families are related? No idea). I never grew. :( ^(ninja edit for the bully's height, which I may have overshot, hah, sorry. I suck at approximations.)
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96jpt | You rule.
I also had various similar experiences back in grade school, but this is one that I remember vividly. I was in fourth grade, and one of my younger sisters (in third grade) is really timid and was constantly picked on. One day, word got to me that one of my classmates made my sister cry. I stormed to my sis' classroom and asked her to tell me the name of said classmate. Once I found out, I located the guy (turned out to be one of the douchiest classmates I ever had), and proceeded to strangle him and hit him with a shoe. It happened so fast that the dude didn't have time to react. The story circled around campus (it was a small school) and everyone in my sister's class and mine became scared of me. No one dared to bully my sisters after that. The kicker? I'm a five-feet tall girl, the dude was taller than me. | Younger sis was bullied. Puny elder sis went Mama Bear apeshit and strangled and hit the bully with a shoe. Instant campus reputation.
EDIT: a letter
EDIT 2: For those asking about the height thing, yep, I was (and still am) five-feet tall back in fourth grade. Came from a family and a small community of tall people (haven't thought of why until now, prolly the families are related? No idea). I never grew. :( ^(ninja edit for the bully's height, which I may have overshot, hah, sorry. I suck at approximations.) |
GathCyberSteam | Wall of text ahead, beware:
Two months ago, I was working in the street next to a construction site with my co-worker. No sidewalk, just a simple two way, single lane street with crazy traffic going either direction. It's ~10 am and my co-worker (along with some other guys across the street) start laughing to themselves at the same time. Directing my gaze towards their line of sight, I behold a man carrying a bottle in a Jack-In-The-Box bag. He is staggering down the street in the drain way, flipping off and cussing at everyone he can.
This is unusual, but I figure he has his reasons and I won't bother him any more than he's bothering me and I continue on with my work. As he's walking by, he sees me and something about me pisses him off. Is it my age? My face? My general presence? Who knows? He starts singling me out. Cussing at me. Flipping me off. Telling me I'm going to hell. Things of that caliber.
I'm not mad though! This guy is drunk. He's plastered. It's 10 am on a Thursday morning and he's walking down the street with a bottle in hand, yelling at people. Why would I get upset? I talk to him calmly. Offer him my hat (he flips me off), tell him I'm sorry he feels the way he does (tells me to go to hell), and just smile and be polite! After two minutes of this, he gets bored with me and staggers off.
So here I am, waiting for my co-worker to finish his part of the job we are on, when I realize that this guy is just like you or me. He's hurting, he's in pain, and he probably just needs someone to help him out a little. I run to my lunch, grab a couple of things, and run to catch up with him (he's gone further down the street about a quarter mile). I shout to get his attention and, needless to say, he looks confused.
I offer him the stuff. It's not much. A banana and a granola bar. Something to get in his stomach to help with the liquor coursing through him, when he slowly walks up to me and gets right in my face. I'm talking, maybe 3-4 inches away. Now, I don't know if he's going to punch me or puke on me, but I'm praying it's a punch because I can't avoid puke. It turns out he doesn't do either of those though! He's crying. Tears coming down in a way that only a fully grown, 55 year old man can cry. He asks how I knew he was hurting and I told him he was drinking at 10 in the morning and no one who's drunk that early in the day can be a happy person. He starts to talk about Jesus and the Lord (I'm an atheist) and about how someone must have sent me and such.
Before I can say anything, he starts to pray. I mean that literally. He starts to pray, but can't continue because he's so wasted that he can't form the right words. It was in that moment that I realized the importance of religion in some people's lives. That it's some people's rock, where they sit when they have no further down to go, where they find comfort when they feel as though it can't be found anywhere else. What do I do? I keep the prayer going, talking about helping us find the strength within to prevail, to help us be strong when we cannot be, things like that. Before long he gives me a drunk-man-bear-hug (lasting forever) with tears still streaming down his face, leaving with the lunch stuff in hand.
I don't know what happened to him after that, but I'd told him to go home, get sobered up, and that I wanted the world for him. Wherever you are, random drunk man, I hope that you're better than you were that day.
tl;dr: Drunk man cries on my shoulder after giving him some noms. Learn valuable life lessons from the experience. | Wall of text ahead, beware:
Two months ago, I was working in the street next to a construction site with my co-worker. No sidewalk, just a simple two way, single lane street with crazy traffic going either direction. It's ~10 am and my co-worker (along with some other guys across the street) start laughing to themselves at the same time. Directing my gaze towards their line of sight, I behold a man carrying a bottle in a Jack-In-The-Box bag. He is staggering down the street in the drain way, flipping off and cussing at everyone he can.
This is unusual, but I figure he has his reasons and I won't bother him any more than he's bothering me and I continue on with my work. As he's walking by, he sees me and something about me pisses him off. Is it my age? My face? My general presence? Who knows? He starts singling me out. Cussing at me. Flipping me off. Telling me I'm going to hell. Things of that caliber.
I'm not mad though! This guy is drunk. He's plastered. It's 10 am on a Thursday morning and he's walking down the street with a bottle in hand, yelling at people. Why would I get upset? I talk to him calmly. Offer him my hat (he flips me off), tell him I'm sorry he feels the way he does (tells me to go to hell), and just smile and be polite! After two minutes of this, he gets bored with me and staggers off.
So here I am, waiting for my co-worker to finish his part of the job we are on, when I realize that this guy is just like you or me. He's hurting, he's in pain, and he probably just needs someone to help him out a little. I run to my lunch, grab a couple of things, and run to catch up with him (he's gone further down the street about a quarter mile). I shout to get his attention and, needless to say, he looks confused.
I offer him the stuff. It's not much. A banana and a granola bar. Something to get in his stomach to help with the liquor coursing through him, when he slowly walks up to me and gets right in my face. I'm talking, maybe 3-4 inches away. Now, I don't know if he's going to punch me or puke on me, but I'm praying it's a punch because I can't avoid puke. It turns out he doesn't do either of those though! He's crying. Tears coming down in a way that only a fully grown, 55 year old man can cry. He asks how I knew he was hurting and I told him he was drinking at 10 in the morning and no one who's drunk that early in the day can be a happy person. He starts to talk about Jesus and the Lord (I'm an atheist) and about how someone must have sent me and such.
Before I can say anything, he starts to pray. I mean that literally. He starts to pray, but can't continue because he's so wasted that he can't form the right words. It was in that moment that I realized the importance of religion in some people's lives. That it's some people's rock, where they sit when they have no further down to go, where they find comfort when they feel as though it can't be found anywhere else. What do I do? I keep the prayer going, talking about helping us find the strength within to prevail, to help us be strong when we cannot be, things like that. Before long he gives me a drunk-man-bear-hug (lasting forever) with tears still streaming down his face, leaving with the lunch stuff in hand.
I don't know what happened to him after that, but I'd told him to go home, get sobered up, and that I wanted the world for him. Wherever you are, random drunk man, I hope that you're better than you were that day.
tl;dr: Drunk man cries on my shoulder after giving him some noms. Learn valuable life lessons from the experience.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96jvs | Wall of text ahead, beware:
Two months ago, I was working in the street next to a construction site with my co-worker. No sidewalk, just a simple two way, single lane street with crazy traffic going either direction. It's ~10 am and my co-worker (along with some other guys across the street) start laughing to themselves at the same time. Directing my gaze towards their line of sight, I behold a man carrying a bottle in a Jack-In-The-Box bag. He is staggering down the street in the drain way, flipping off and cussing at everyone he can.
This is unusual, but I figure he has his reasons and I won't bother him any more than he's bothering me and I continue on with my work. As he's walking by, he sees me and something about me pisses him off. Is it my age? My face? My general presence? Who knows? He starts singling me out. Cussing at me. Flipping me off. Telling me I'm going to hell. Things of that caliber.
I'm not mad though! This guy is drunk. He's plastered. It's 10 am on a Thursday morning and he's walking down the street with a bottle in hand, yelling at people. Why would I get upset? I talk to him calmly. Offer him my hat (he flips me off), tell him I'm sorry he feels the way he does (tells me to go to hell), and just smile and be polite! After two minutes of this, he gets bored with me and staggers off.
So here I am, waiting for my co-worker to finish his part of the job we are on, when I realize that this guy is just like you or me. He's hurting, he's in pain, and he probably just needs someone to help him out a little. I run to my lunch, grab a couple of things, and run to catch up with him (he's gone further down the street about a quarter mile). I shout to get his attention and, needless to say, he looks confused.
I offer him the stuff. It's not much. A banana and a granola bar. Something to get in his stomach to help with the liquor coursing through him, when he slowly walks up to me and gets right in my face. I'm talking, maybe 3-4 inches away. Now, I don't know if he's going to punch me or puke on me, but I'm praying it's a punch because I can't avoid puke. It turns out he doesn't do either of those though! He's crying. Tears coming down in a way that only a fully grown, 55 year old man can cry. He asks how I knew he was hurting and I told him he was drinking at 10 in the morning and no one who's drunk that early in the day can be a happy person. He starts to talk about Jesus and the Lord (I'm an atheist) and about how someone must have sent me and such.
Before I can say anything, he starts to pray. I mean that literally. He starts to pray, but can't continue because he's so wasted that he can't form the right words. It was in that moment that I realized the importance of religion in some people's lives. That it's some people's rock, where they sit when they have no further down to go, where they find comfort when they feel as though it can't be found anywhere else. What do I do? I keep the prayer going, talking about helping us find the strength within to prevail, to help us be strong when we cannot be, things like that. Before long he gives me a drunk-man-bear-hug (lasting forever) with tears still streaming down his face, leaving with the lunch stuff in hand.
I don't know what happened to him after that, but I'd told him to go home, get sobered up, and that I wanted the world for him. Wherever you are, random drunk man, I hope that you're better than you were that day. | Drunk man cries on my shoulder after giving him some noms. Learn valuable life lessons from the experience. |
downwithmoonlight | I had just switched schools and I was trying to keep my head down. It was sophomore year of high school, so must people already had their solid friend groups and weren't really looking for new friends. I spent most of that year just focusing on school. I was one of those students who answered a lot of questions, volunteered when no one else would, etc. call me a teachers pet if you like, I just considered myself a good student who felt bad for my teachers who had to deal with shitty students.
Anyways, we were assigned this fucking HUGE group project that was a multi media book report, supposedly worth like 50% of our grade. So like regular book report, a mock radio ad, a mock movie poster and trailer, a write up of a mock script for a movie, an illustrated story board, a write up of which actors would play what parts, you get the idea. This was for an AP lit class.
Anyways, the teacher gave us an impossible deadline and zero time in class to work on it or any real guidelines. A lot of the students were grumbling about it, as in about 95% of my class and about 85-90% of another. I'm very vocal, and I'm a very strong leader, and people started talking TO me about what they want, thinking since I was the pet I could do something about it. Essentially I was nominated to lead a revolt.
After gathering the main points, I went and met with the teacher who laughed and shot me down before I had a chance to really talk. Not wanting to let my peers down, I wrote a petition and almost every AP lit student signed it, and then some non AP students did to "fight the man" or whatever. The teacher was mad, but impressed. She gave us an extension and all was right in the world.
We eventually handed them in and about 3 months later we still hadn't gotten our grades back. Again, the students pressed me to get answers, and she basically said "oh, right. Well I started looking at them and realized they were just too big of a project with so many components, I don't even know how to grade them. I'm just going to do a pass/fail grade on them." I swear there was almost a riot. I almost felt bad about questioning the authority of a teacher, but after that, I had no regrets.
Tldr: protested project, scumbag teacher sucks. | I had just switched schools and I was trying to keep my head down. It was sophomore year of high school, so must people already had their solid friend groups and weren't really looking for new friends. I spent most of that year just focusing on school. I was one of those students who answered a lot of questions, volunteered when no one else would, etc. call me a teachers pet if you like, I just considered myself a good student who felt bad for my teachers who had to deal with shitty students.
Anyways, we were assigned this fucking HUGE group project that was a multi media book report, supposedly worth like 50% of our grade. So like regular book report, a mock radio ad, a mock movie poster and trailer, a write up of a mock script for a movie, an illustrated story board, a write up of which actors would play what parts, you get the idea. This was for an AP lit class.
Anyways, the teacher gave us an impossible deadline and zero time in class to work on it or any real guidelines. A lot of the students were grumbling about it, as in about 95% of my class and about 85-90% of another. I'm very vocal, and I'm a very strong leader, and people started talking TO me about what they want, thinking since I was the pet I could do something about it. Essentially I was nominated to lead a revolt.
After gathering the main points, I went and met with the teacher who laughed and shot me down before I had a chance to really talk. Not wanting to let my peers down, I wrote a petition and almost every AP lit student signed it, and then some non AP students did to "fight the man" or whatever. The teacher was mad, but impressed. She gave us an extension and all was right in the world.
We eventually handed them in and about 3 months later we still hadn't gotten our grades back. Again, the students pressed me to get answers, and she basically said "oh, right. Well I started looking at them and realized they were just too big of a project with so many components, I don't even know how to grade them. I'm just going to do a pass/fail grade on them." I swear there was almost a riot. I almost felt bad about questioning the authority of a teacher, but after that, I had no regrets.
Tldr: protested project, scumbag teacher sucks.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96x9k | I had just switched schools and I was trying to keep my head down. It was sophomore year of high school, so must people already had their solid friend groups and weren't really looking for new friends. I spent most of that year just focusing on school. I was one of those students who answered a lot of questions, volunteered when no one else would, etc. call me a teachers pet if you like, I just considered myself a good student who felt bad for my teachers who had to deal with shitty students.
Anyways, we were assigned this fucking HUGE group project that was a multi media book report, supposedly worth like 50% of our grade. So like regular book report, a mock radio ad, a mock movie poster and trailer, a write up of a mock script for a movie, an illustrated story board, a write up of which actors would play what parts, you get the idea. This was for an AP lit class.
Anyways, the teacher gave us an impossible deadline and zero time in class to work on it or any real guidelines. A lot of the students were grumbling about it, as in about 95% of my class and about 85-90% of another. I'm very vocal, and I'm a very strong leader, and people started talking TO me about what they want, thinking since I was the pet I could do something about it. Essentially I was nominated to lead a revolt.
After gathering the main points, I went and met with the teacher who laughed and shot me down before I had a chance to really talk. Not wanting to let my peers down, I wrote a petition and almost every AP lit student signed it, and then some non AP students did to "fight the man" or whatever. The teacher was mad, but impressed. She gave us an extension and all was right in the world.
We eventually handed them in and about 3 months later we still hadn't gotten our grades back. Again, the students pressed me to get answers, and she basically said "oh, right. Well I started looking at them and realized they were just too big of a project with so many components, I don't even know how to grade them. I'm just going to do a pass/fail grade on them." I swear there was almost a riot. I almost felt bad about questioning the authority of a teacher, but after that, I had no regrets. | protested project, scumbag teacher sucks. |
Carvell_the_Spy | Ah, you just reminded me of a somewhat similar situation, but the roles were reversed.
I was in 6th grade, and at our school we had this Noise Sensitive Stop Light in the Cafeteria. The louder the room, the quicker the stop light would go to red, if we made it change to red too many times, we'd have assigned seats for a few days until you worked your way out of it by being quiet and well behaved. Well, we had a Teacher's Aid who watched us at lunch, but she was one of the nicest women at the school, she had elementary kids of her own and just generally did a good job.
Well, one fateful day, the 6th grade class is too loud at lunch, and our Teacher's Aid regrettably informs us that we will have assigned seats for a few days, but if we're all good, we will get to sit where ever again. So my friends and I, being the well behaved quiet kids we were, get out of assigned seats by the next day. The loud, boisterous kids (Who remained that way throughout High School) continued to be loud and boisterous and were stuck in assigned seats. They didn't like this, they blamed our sweet Teacher's Aid for it. Well, we had recently been learning about petitions in Social Studies, so one idiot 6th grader decided to start a petition to get our Teacher's Aid fired for making them sit in assigned seats.
Eventually, most the 6th grade class had signed it, except my friends and I. We thought it was stupid and knew it would never work, plus we held nothing against our Teacher's Aid. So school ends for the day, and we're all hanging around outside of our classroom while the petition still goes around. My friend, being the sly little bastard he always was, says to this chimp looking kid, "Hey, let me sign that." The chimp kid hands it over, my friend takes it in his hands, holds it up like he's about to sign, and rips the goddamn paper right in half. The other kids flipped. They jump my friend, and the chimp kids grabs him from behind in a choke hold. My friend then stabs the kid in the leg with the pencil he had been holding. Our 6th grade teacher hears the commotion, comes out and retrieves my friend from the pack of kids. As my friend is going back into class with our teacher he yells "You can't sign a petition to get rid of a Teacher's Aid!"
Our teacher tells him he did the right thing by not signing, but probably could have found a better way to rally against it then ripping it up in front of everyone. That Teacher's Aid still works at the school.
tl;dr: Politics and Rebellions in the 6th Grade. | Ah, you just reminded me of a somewhat similar situation, but the roles were reversed.
I was in 6th grade, and at our school we had this Noise Sensitive Stop Light in the Cafeteria. The louder the room, the quicker the stop light would go to red, if we made it change to red too many times, we'd have assigned seats for a few days until you worked your way out of it by being quiet and well behaved. Well, we had a Teacher's Aid who watched us at lunch, but she was one of the nicest women at the school, she had elementary kids of her own and just generally did a good job.
Well, one fateful day, the 6th grade class is too loud at lunch, and our Teacher's Aid regrettably informs us that we will have assigned seats for a few days, but if we're all good, we will get to sit where ever again. So my friends and I, being the well behaved quiet kids we were, get out of assigned seats by the next day. The loud, boisterous kids (Who remained that way throughout High School) continued to be loud and boisterous and were stuck in assigned seats. They didn't like this, they blamed our sweet Teacher's Aid for it. Well, we had recently been learning about petitions in Social Studies, so one idiot 6th grader decided to start a petition to get our Teacher's Aid fired for making them sit in assigned seats.
Eventually, most the 6th grade class had signed it, except my friends and I. We thought it was stupid and knew it would never work, plus we held nothing against our Teacher's Aid. So school ends for the day, and we're all hanging around outside of our classroom while the petition still goes around. My friend, being the sly little bastard he always was, says to this chimp looking kid, "Hey, let me sign that." The chimp kid hands it over, my friend takes it in his hands, holds it up like he's about to sign, and rips the goddamn paper right in half. The other kids flipped. They jump my friend, and the chimp kids grabs him from behind in a choke hold. My friend then stabs the kid in the leg with the pencil he had been holding. Our 6th grade teacher hears the commotion, comes out and retrieves my friend from the pack of kids. As my friend is going back into class with our teacher he yells "You can't sign a petition to get rid of a Teacher's Aid!"
Our teacher tells him he did the right thing by not signing, but probably could have found a better way to rally against it then ripping it up in front of everyone. That Teacher's Aid still works at the school.
tl;dr: Politics and Rebellions in the 6th Grade.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96y7g | Ah, you just reminded me of a somewhat similar situation, but the roles were reversed.
I was in 6th grade, and at our school we had this Noise Sensitive Stop Light in the Cafeteria. The louder the room, the quicker the stop light would go to red, if we made it change to red too many times, we'd have assigned seats for a few days until you worked your way out of it by being quiet and well behaved. Well, we had a Teacher's Aid who watched us at lunch, but she was one of the nicest women at the school, she had elementary kids of her own and just generally did a good job.
Well, one fateful day, the 6th grade class is too loud at lunch, and our Teacher's Aid regrettably informs us that we will have assigned seats for a few days, but if we're all good, we will get to sit where ever again. So my friends and I, being the well behaved quiet kids we were, get out of assigned seats by the next day. The loud, boisterous kids (Who remained that way throughout High School) continued to be loud and boisterous and were stuck in assigned seats. They didn't like this, they blamed our sweet Teacher's Aid for it. Well, we had recently been learning about petitions in Social Studies, so one idiot 6th grader decided to start a petition to get our Teacher's Aid fired for making them sit in assigned seats.
Eventually, most the 6th grade class had signed it, except my friends and I. We thought it was stupid and knew it would never work, plus we held nothing against our Teacher's Aid. So school ends for the day, and we're all hanging around outside of our classroom while the petition still goes around. My friend, being the sly little bastard he always was, says to this chimp looking kid, "Hey, let me sign that." The chimp kid hands it over, my friend takes it in his hands, holds it up like he's about to sign, and rips the goddamn paper right in half. The other kids flipped. They jump my friend, and the chimp kids grabs him from behind in a choke hold. My friend then stabs the kid in the leg with the pencil he had been holding. Our 6th grade teacher hears the commotion, comes out and retrieves my friend from the pack of kids. As my friend is going back into class with our teacher he yells "You can't sign a petition to get rid of a Teacher's Aid!"
Our teacher tells him he did the right thing by not signing, but probably could have found a better way to rally against it then ripping it up in front of everyone. That Teacher's Aid still works at the school. | Politics and Rebellions in the 6th Grade. |
veryfoulindeed | I've never told too many people this, but I might have saved a guy from committing suicide. I'm physically disabled in several ways but still independent. While waiting outside of the classroom in a small seated area, a guy around my age sat beside me. He looked at me and asked, "How do you do it?"
I wasn't too sure what he meant, so I asked, "I'm sorry. What?" That's when I noticed tears coming up in his eyes and his voice started quivering.
His response. "How do you do it? Day and day out, I see you walking through these halls like nothing is the matter. It's truly an inspiration. And here I am, complaining and grieving about every day. If I hadn't seen you this semester, I don't know what I would've done or what would've become of me. Thank you." He then walked off, and I never really saw him again.
TL;DR - You never know what type of effect you have on complete strangers. | I've never told too many people this, but I might have saved a guy from committing suicide. I'm physically disabled in several ways but still independent. While waiting outside of the classroom in a small seated area, a guy around my age sat beside me. He looked at me and asked, "How do you do it?"
I wasn't too sure what he meant, so I asked, "I'm sorry. What?" That's when I noticed tears coming up in his eyes and his voice started quivering.
His response. "How do you do it? Day and day out, I see you walking through these halls like nothing is the matter. It's truly an inspiration. And here I am, complaining and grieving about every day. If I hadn't seen you this semester, I don't know what I would've done or what would've become of me. Thank you." He then walked off, and I never really saw him again.
TL;DR - You never know what type of effect you have on complete strangers.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc96zgj | I've never told too many people this, but I might have saved a guy from committing suicide. I'm physically disabled in several ways but still independent. While waiting outside of the classroom in a small seated area, a guy around my age sat beside me. He looked at me and asked, "How do you do it?"
I wasn't too sure what he meant, so I asked, "I'm sorry. What?" That's when I noticed tears coming up in his eyes and his voice started quivering.
His response. "How do you do it? Day and day out, I see you walking through these halls like nothing is the matter. It's truly an inspiration. And here I am, complaining and grieving about every day. If I hadn't seen you this semester, I don't know what I would've done or what would've become of me. Thank you." He then walked off, and I never really saw him again. | You never know what type of effect you have on complete strangers. |
abr0414 | My wife and I got in a HUGE argument on the first night we met.
I had been a pretty constant third wheel to my roommate and his fiancee and I think they felt sorry for me. His fiancee set me up on a "blind double date" with them and a girl she knew from class.
So we get to a local restaurant and she's already there waiting. She's Asian and comments that she wasn't expecting a black guy and kind of turned her nose up at me. We sit down and basically get playfully racist with each other and we both get offended and argued right there at the table. We both said things we would regret--I called her a bitch. So obviously this relationship is over before it started.
Well, a month and some change later, I'm at a party and I stand outside because it was hot as shit in the house. As I'm leaning beside the door, it opens and I see this short girl walk out and recognize that it was her. She looked up at me, realized who I was and apologized, saying that she was just joking about the rap music, the "nappy hair", and the "ghetto talk". I apologized for various Asian stereotypes that I threw out there.
We walked away from the party and went on campus to the music building. We talked until about 4am. That was our real "first date".
**Tl;Dr** Two people got in a very loud an embarrassing argument on their first date because they had a socially awkward induced misunderstanding. Don't worry, they made up and stayed together. | My wife and I got in a HUGE argument on the first night we met.
I had been a pretty constant third wheel to my roommate and his fiancee and I think they felt sorry for me. His fiancee set me up on a "blind double date" with them and a girl she knew from class.
So we get to a local restaurant and she's already there waiting. She's Asian and comments that she wasn't expecting a black guy and kind of turned her nose up at me. We sit down and basically get playfully racist with each other and we both get offended and argued right there at the table. We both said things we would regret--I called her a bitch. So obviously this relationship is over before it started.
Well, a month and some change later, I'm at a party and I stand outside because it was hot as shit in the house. As I'm leaning beside the door, it opens and I see this short girl walk out and recognize that it was her. She looked up at me, realized who I was and apologized, saying that she was just joking about the rap music, the "nappy hair", and the "ghetto talk". I apologized for various Asian stereotypes that I threw out there.
We walked away from the party and went on campus to the music building. We talked until about 4am. That was our real "first date".
Tl;Dr Two people got in a very loud an embarrassing argument on their first date because they had a socially awkward induced misunderstanding. Don't worry, they made up and stayed together.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc972us | My wife and I got in a HUGE argument on the first night we met.
I had been a pretty constant third wheel to my roommate and his fiancee and I think they felt sorry for me. His fiancee set me up on a "blind double date" with them and a girl she knew from class.
So we get to a local restaurant and she's already there waiting. She's Asian and comments that she wasn't expecting a black guy and kind of turned her nose up at me. We sit down and basically get playfully racist with each other and we both get offended and argued right there at the table. We both said things we would regret--I called her a bitch. So obviously this relationship is over before it started.
Well, a month and some change later, I'm at a party and I stand outside because it was hot as shit in the house. As I'm leaning beside the door, it opens and I see this short girl walk out and recognize that it was her. She looked up at me, realized who I was and apologized, saying that she was just joking about the rap music, the "nappy hair", and the "ghetto talk". I apologized for various Asian stereotypes that I threw out there.
We walked away from the party and went on campus to the music building. We talked until about 4am. That was our real "first date". | Two people got in a very loud an embarrassing argument on their first date because they had a socially awkward induced misunderstanding. Don't worry, they made up and stayed together. |
Henrywinklered | There was a teacher at my high school that I am convinced is a pedophile of some sort. Students go over to his house and recieve massages that can get very "sensual." He locks all the rooms to his house with a key. One bedroom is decorated top to bottom with Beverly Hills 90210 memorabilia. He has been "remodeling his kitchen" with a football player I went to HS with, although nothing in the kitchen has changed for the four years they have been "working."
This man has had extensive plastic surgery and has a shady past. He claims to have had so many professions and to have attended something like 10 universities. Supposedly his wife and children died in a car wreck years ago, no one knows for sure although he mentions them from time to time.
Kids will go over to his house at all hours of the night to visit him. You can ring his doorbell at 4 am and when he opens the door call him a "fucking douche" and he will gladly welcome you in and tell you how much he missed you. People curse at and even hit him. One night some kids even choked him out and put him in a dark bedroom, then proceeded to throw a party in his house.
TL;DR I am not sure how my old teacher still has a job. | There was a teacher at my high school that I am convinced is a pedophile of some sort. Students go over to his house and recieve massages that can get very "sensual." He locks all the rooms to his house with a key. One bedroom is decorated top to bottom with Beverly Hills 90210 memorabilia. He has been "remodeling his kitchen" with a football player I went to HS with, although nothing in the kitchen has changed for the four years they have been "working."
This man has had extensive plastic surgery and has a shady past. He claims to have had so many professions and to have attended something like 10 universities. Supposedly his wife and children died in a car wreck years ago, no one knows for sure although he mentions them from time to time.
Kids will go over to his house at all hours of the night to visit him. You can ring his doorbell at 4 am and when he opens the door call him a "fucking douche" and he will gladly welcome you in and tell you how much he missed you. People curse at and even hit him. One night some kids even choked him out and put him in a dark bedroom, then proceeded to throw a party in his house.
TL;DR I am not sure how my old teacher still has a job.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc9744v | There was a teacher at my high school that I am convinced is a pedophile of some sort. Students go over to his house and recieve massages that can get very "sensual." He locks all the rooms to his house with a key. One bedroom is decorated top to bottom with Beverly Hills 90210 memorabilia. He has been "remodeling his kitchen" with a football player I went to HS with, although nothing in the kitchen has changed for the four years they have been "working."
This man has had extensive plastic surgery and has a shady past. He claims to have had so many professions and to have attended something like 10 universities. Supposedly his wife and children died in a car wreck years ago, no one knows for sure although he mentions them from time to time.
Kids will go over to his house at all hours of the night to visit him. You can ring his doorbell at 4 am and when he opens the door call him a "fucking douche" and he will gladly welcome you in and tell you how much he missed you. People curse at and even hit him. One night some kids even choked him out and put him in a dark bedroom, then proceeded to throw a party in his house. | I am not sure how my old teacher still has a job. |
Lustful_Camel | About 10 years back I was introduced to weed by a few friends. One of them was named George (not really name for obvious reasons). George and I smoked together a few more times at his house with little to no problems, but one night it all changed.
We both pitched in on rolling a blunt, and smoked it on his couch until we both got pretty high. He had previously been in encounters with other men, but I had made it very clear I was not interested in that, I just liked his company. Anyways, we were enjoying ourselves watching Star Wars on his t.v, when suddenly he pulls of his pants and starts masturbating in front of me. I scorned him to stop immediately (I knew he was at least at an [8] so I cut him some slack) or I would leave. He then proceeds to look me directly in the eyes, which creeped me the fuck out, and asked me to help him finish. I got up without saying a word and rushed to the door.
Unfortunately I underestimated his speed, both for movement, and masturbating. Time itself froze, he came towards me (no pun intended) and released what seemed like a life time build up of lust. Somehow I managed to jolt to the left, allowing me to dodge the spray that eventually covered the door. We both stood still for what seemed like an eternity, until he collapsed in a pool of his own filth. This gave me enough time to rush to the backdoor, were I made my narrow escape..or so it seemed.
I realized I had forgotten my keys on the couch where the incident had begun.
I didn't know what to do. Since it was close to -10F outside and my house was more than 20 miles away, I had no other option. I quickly and quietly ventured back inside, heart-racing, and with a sense alertness I had never felt before. I spotted my keys lying on the edge of the couch, and made the poor choice of glancing at the door I had earlier tried to escape through. He was gone. Evidence still covered the scene, but he was gone. I lunged to grab my keys, and just as I did, he appeared from behind the couch. It was now a life and death situation. Like a gazelle being chased by a hungry lion, I darted as quickly as I could for the backdoor, being chased by what was now a fully naked George who was furiously masturbating.
We've all seen those horror movies where the victim being chased by an ax murderer frantically fumbles with their keys, trying to open their car door. Fortunately this was not one of those situations, and I made my narrow escape. The last time I ever saw him was from my rear-view mirror, masturbating in the snowfall.
tl;dr Friend masturbated in-front of me, he came, I saw, I conquered. | About 10 years back I was introduced to weed by a few friends. One of them was named George (not really name for obvious reasons). George and I smoked together a few more times at his house with little to no problems, but one night it all changed.
We both pitched in on rolling a blunt, and smoked it on his couch until we both got pretty high. He had previously been in encounters with other men, but I had made it very clear I was not interested in that, I just liked his company. Anyways, we were enjoying ourselves watching Star Wars on his t.v, when suddenly he pulls of his pants and starts masturbating in front of me. I scorned him to stop immediately (I knew he was at least at an [8] so I cut him some slack) or I would leave. He then proceeds to look me directly in the eyes, which creeped me the fuck out, and asked me to help him finish. I got up without saying a word and rushed to the door.
Unfortunately I underestimated his speed, both for movement, and masturbating. Time itself froze, he came towards me (no pun intended) and released what seemed like a life time build up of lust. Somehow I managed to jolt to the left, allowing me to dodge the spray that eventually covered the door. We both stood still for what seemed like an eternity, until he collapsed in a pool of his own filth. This gave me enough time to rush to the backdoor, were I made my narrow escape..or so it seemed.
I realized I had forgotten my keys on the couch where the incident had begun.
I didn't know what to do. Since it was close to -10F outside and my house was more than 20 miles away, I had no other option. I quickly and quietly ventured back inside, heart-racing, and with a sense alertness I had never felt before. I spotted my keys lying on the edge of the couch, and made the poor choice of glancing at the door I had earlier tried to escape through. He was gone. Evidence still covered the scene, but he was gone. I lunged to grab my keys, and just as I did, he appeared from behind the couch. It was now a life and death situation. Like a gazelle being chased by a hungry lion, I darted as quickly as I could for the backdoor, being chased by what was now a fully naked George who was furiously masturbating.
We've all seen those horror movies where the victim being chased by an ax murderer frantically fumbles with their keys, trying to open their car door. Fortunately this was not one of those situations, and I made my narrow escape. The last time I ever saw him was from my rear-view mirror, masturbating in the snowfall.
tl;dr Friend masturbated in-front of me, he came, I saw, I conquered.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc975jj | About 10 years back I was introduced to weed by a few friends. One of them was named George (not really name for obvious reasons). George and I smoked together a few more times at his house with little to no problems, but one night it all changed.
We both pitched in on rolling a blunt, and smoked it on his couch until we both got pretty high. He had previously been in encounters with other men, but I had made it very clear I was not interested in that, I just liked his company. Anyways, we were enjoying ourselves watching Star Wars on his t.v, when suddenly he pulls of his pants and starts masturbating in front of me. I scorned him to stop immediately (I knew he was at least at an [8] so I cut him some slack) or I would leave. He then proceeds to look me directly in the eyes, which creeped me the fuck out, and asked me to help him finish. I got up without saying a word and rushed to the door.
Unfortunately I underestimated his speed, both for movement, and masturbating. Time itself froze, he came towards me (no pun intended) and released what seemed like a life time build up of lust. Somehow I managed to jolt to the left, allowing me to dodge the spray that eventually covered the door. We both stood still for what seemed like an eternity, until he collapsed in a pool of his own filth. This gave me enough time to rush to the backdoor, were I made my narrow escape..or so it seemed.
I realized I had forgotten my keys on the couch where the incident had begun.
I didn't know what to do. Since it was close to -10F outside and my house was more than 20 miles away, I had no other option. I quickly and quietly ventured back inside, heart-racing, and with a sense alertness I had never felt before. I spotted my keys lying on the edge of the couch, and made the poor choice of glancing at the door I had earlier tried to escape through. He was gone. Evidence still covered the scene, but he was gone. I lunged to grab my keys, and just as I did, he appeared from behind the couch. It was now a life and death situation. Like a gazelle being chased by a hungry lion, I darted as quickly as I could for the backdoor, being chased by what was now a fully naked George who was furiously masturbating.
We've all seen those horror movies where the victim being chased by an ax murderer frantically fumbles with their keys, trying to open their car door. Fortunately this was not one of those situations, and I made my narrow escape. The last time I ever saw him was from my rear-view mirror, masturbating in the snowfall. | Friend masturbated in-front of me, he came, I saw, I conquered. |
Naterader | A couple friends and I started melting candles to the point of using a sauce pan to melt whole foot long candles. We would let it cool slightly then dip our entire hand in it. The wax dries quickly and makes your hand feel foreign and strange.
We got the idea to make a mould of something and stick one of the wicks in it. I thought it would be funny to have a moulded candle of someone's penis on the living room table. We also had a beer bottle with a bunch of difference coloured candles and a couple other candles so it would be a subtle and subversive Feng Shui joke even if its not burning.
My penis was volunteered after discussion with a roommate. We went to the art store, got plaster and I did the deed. Years later, I still have a [mould of my erect penis]( contributing to my room's decor - I've provided a couple light bulbs for scale reference.
TL;DR - [This]( is my erect penis moulded in a wax candle that I keep in my room. | A couple friends and I started melting candles to the point of using a sauce pan to melt whole foot long candles. We would let it cool slightly then dip our entire hand in it. The wax dries quickly and makes your hand feel foreign and strange.
We got the idea to make a mould of something and stick one of the wicks in it. I thought it would be funny to have a moulded candle of someone's penis on the living room table. We also had a beer bottle with a bunch of difference coloured candles and a couple other candles so it would be a subtle and subversive Feng Shui joke even if its not burning.
My penis was volunteered after discussion with a roommate. We went to the art store, got plaster and I did the deed. Years later, I still have a [mould of my erect penis]( contributing to my room's decor - I've provided a couple light bulbs for scale reference.
TL;DR - [This]( is my erect penis moulded in a wax candle that I keep in my room.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc9762r | A couple friends and I started melting candles to the point of using a sauce pan to melt whole foot long candles. We would let it cool slightly then dip our entire hand in it. The wax dries quickly and makes your hand feel foreign and strange.
We got the idea to make a mould of something and stick one of the wicks in it. I thought it would be funny to have a moulded candle of someone's penis on the living room table. We also had a beer bottle with a bunch of difference coloured candles and a couple other candles so it would be a subtle and subversive Feng Shui joke even if its not burning.
My penis was volunteered after discussion with a roommate. We went to the art store, got plaster and I did the deed. Years later, I still have a [mould of my erect penis]( contributing to my room's decor - I've provided a couple light bulbs for scale reference. | This]( is my erect penis moulded in a wax candle that I keep in my room. |
HarryPie | I was a Boy Scout as a kid and we went on a camping trip. My dad and I were in a teeny tent sleeping peacefully. Then, my dad woke me up at around midnight saying "HarryPie, we gotta go!" and I heard a faint siren. I just fell back asleep. He woke me up again and demanded that we go.
So I started to get ready to go. When we left our tent it was raining like you wouldn't believe and the sirens were loud. My dad left me in my friend's dad's car until he got our car. When my dad got me to get to our car lightning struck near us. Not a mile from us, but around 100 feet away. It was deafening. My dad literally thought that I got struck by it because he could smell the sulfur.
We drove home in the middle of the night to return home to my mom and sister watching the news in our region. It turns out there was a tornado warning right above us. It was not a fun night. But here's the kicker. The scout leader and his son slept right through it.
TL;DR-Worst storm I can remember happened in the middle of the night, at a boy scout camping trip. I nearly got struck by lightning but everything turned out fine. Scout leader and his son slept peacefully through the deafening sirens, thunder, and rain. | I was a Boy Scout as a kid and we went on a camping trip. My dad and I were in a teeny tent sleeping peacefully. Then, my dad woke me up at around midnight saying "HarryPie, we gotta go!" and I heard a faint siren. I just fell back asleep. He woke me up again and demanded that we go.
So I started to get ready to go. When we left our tent it was raining like you wouldn't believe and the sirens were loud. My dad left me in my friend's dad's car until he got our car. When my dad got me to get to our car lightning struck near us. Not a mile from us, but around 100 feet away. It was deafening. My dad literally thought that I got struck by it because he could smell the sulfur.
We drove home in the middle of the night to return home to my mom and sister watching the news in our region. It turns out there was a tornado warning right above us. It was not a fun night. But here's the kicker. The scout leader and his son slept right through it.
TL;DR-Worst storm I can remember happened in the middle of the night, at a boy scout camping trip. I nearly got struck by lightning but everything turned out fine. Scout leader and his son slept peacefully through the deafening sirens, thunder, and rain.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc976at | I was a Boy Scout as a kid and we went on a camping trip. My dad and I were in a teeny tent sleeping peacefully. Then, my dad woke me up at around midnight saying "HarryPie, we gotta go!" and I heard a faint siren. I just fell back asleep. He woke me up again and demanded that we go.
So I started to get ready to go. When we left our tent it was raining like you wouldn't believe and the sirens were loud. My dad left me in my friend's dad's car until he got our car. When my dad got me to get to our car lightning struck near us. Not a mile from us, but around 100 feet away. It was deafening. My dad literally thought that I got struck by it because he could smell the sulfur.
We drove home in the middle of the night to return home to my mom and sister watching the news in our region. It turns out there was a tornado warning right above us. It was not a fun night. But here's the kicker. The scout leader and his son slept right through it. | Worst storm I can remember happened in the middle of the night, at a boy scout camping trip. I nearly got struck by lightning but everything turned out fine. Scout leader and his son slept peacefully through the deafening sirens, thunder, and rain. |
buzzinghard | I made fun of one of my middle school subs, whose name was unfortunately Mrs. Bahls (pronounced Balls) until she cried and left the class. I asked here if here son was Harry and if here husband was Sweaty anyway we had the Principal sub for the rest of the day.
TLDR I was an asshole to a kind old substitute teacher | I made fun of one of my middle school subs, whose name was unfortunately Mrs. Bahls (pronounced Balls) until she cried and left the class. I asked here if here son was Harry and if here husband was Sweaty anyway we had the Principal sub for the rest of the day.
TLDR I was an asshole to a kind old substitute teacher
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc976b8 | I made fun of one of my middle school subs, whose name was unfortunately Mrs. Bahls (pronounced Balls) until she cried and left the class. I asked here if here son was Harry and if here husband was Sweaty anyway we had the Principal sub for the rest of the day. | I was an asshole to a kind old substitute teacher |
Skexin | About 3 days before MLG Meadowlands in 2009, one of my friends from Atlanta informed me that their 4th team member wasn’t going to show up for the event, so he offered me the spot on the team. The pass was paid for, the team registered; all I had to do was show up. When I found out I had the opportunity to play at a professional MLG event, I dropped everything to make it happen.
My initial reaction to the offer to play was that I’d never make it from Atlanta, Georgia to Meadowlands, NJ in time to make the event, but I told him I’d try my best. I tried everyone I knew in the area that was going. Unfortunately, most of them were flying. I didn’t have much disposable income, so that wasn’t an option for me. I only knew of one person, nicknamed KZ, driving from Atlanta to Meadowlands, but I couldn’t get in touch with him. I figured if I could make my way home in NC, I might have a better shot of finding a ride from there. Eventually, I heard an acquaintance I occasionally played Halo with(A) was making the trip with some friends from Raleigh, North Carolina on Thursday Morning around 9am. After talking to them off and on for a couple days, they said I could ride with them if I got there by the time they left. At this point, I’m ecstatic. I made plans for one of my best friends from high school named Scott to drive down after work and pick me up from Atlanta and bring me back to Denver, North Carolina. From there, my sister agreed to drive me to Raleigh to meet up with A and his friends by 9am Thursday morning, and off to Meadowlands I’d go. I get it all planned out and double check with A Wednesday to make sure we’re all set and everything seems golden, I’m going to Meadowlands, NJ to play Halo 3 in an MLG event.
I had everything ready to go when Scott arrived in Atlanta to pick me up around midnight Wednesday night. I knew A would still be up, so I texted him to double check that everything was planned out and to see how much room I would have for my stuff. I immediately get a text back apologizing that they already left Raleigh about 3 hours earlier because they didn’t want to wait till the morning. I was absolutely livid. Not only had I wasted all that time and had my hopes up, I had been struck by an encounter with Shady Halo Kids. They hadn’t even informed me they were leaving so I could cancel my plans to drive up there or make other arrangements. About 5 minutes later I got a text proclaiming that it was all an April fool’s joke. I felt dizzy, upset, and ecstatic all over again. I get ready to leave with Scott after texting him back to make sure all was ok for the trip when another response comes through saying that they really had left. The joke was actually when they stated it was an April fool’s joke. So, for the second time in less than twenty minutes, I’ve had my dream crushed and my blood pressure boiling. At this point, I resigned to accept the fact that I can’t make it to Meadowlands after all, but I’m not going to waste Scott’s effort in picking me up and I decided to go home for the weekend. We gather up my things and head out the door leaving my dorm room in Atlanta. On the way out, I tried calling KZ again as a last ditch effort, except this time, he answered the phone! Trying not to get too excited, I ask if he is still making the trip to Meadowlands from Atlanta driving. He says he is, but that he already left. Just my luck, they had already left and I’d missed my chance again. On a whim I asked where they were at and KZ told me they had only left about forty five minutes before and were headed up highway 85. Excitement building again, I ask if they would wait on me so I could catch a ride. KZ had no problem with me catching a ride, but they were on a time schedule and couldn’t afford to wait for me. The race was on.
My dream to play competitive Halo 3 at an MLG event had just been resurrected. It is 240 miles from my dorm in Atlanta to the North Carolina exit where I get off of highway 85 to go home. I have made that trip so many times, I was confident I could make up the time I was behind on the interstate. After a quick series of calculations, I determined that I would only have to beat them by an average of twelve miles per hour to catch them before they passed my house. Determined to not be left behind again, I tell KZ I’ll meet him at the North Carolina state line. Scott had pulled an eight hour shift at work before driving to Atlanta to pick me up, so I told him to catch some sleep while I drove. We loaded up into his 2000 Mitsubishi Eclipse and hit the highway. KZ told me that this was his first real road trip driving a long distance, so I knew he wouldn’t be comfortable speeding on the highway. I’d made that same trip from Atlanta to North Carolina up Highway 85 about ten times in the previous five months. I was confident I could outpace him because I was willing to speed. I knew the speed traps and where I could take advantage of the open road, as long as the weather held up. It was a relatively uneventful trip for the first 130 miles. Scott was sound asleep, snoring away the miles, and I was making great time. About 50 miles into South Carolina, it started raining. It wasn’t bad, but I knew it would slow me down. Worried I wouldn’t make it; I pushed the limits of safety and sped through the storm. About 20 miles from the designated meeting place; I’ve still got ground to gain, but its storming harder. Refusing to be beaten by weather, I pushed the limits of traction and sped right through Greenville, South Carolina. The road was open with no other cars around with 5 lanes to play with when disaster almost ruined the whole trip. I hit a spot on the highway going around a left-hand curve where the water had pooled up on the highway and I hydroplaned. Normally, this would have ended it all, but I had 4 other lanes to play with and several years of practice with controlled skid in race cars. With the rear end of the car out wide right, I downshifted and feathered the gas while turning back against the skid. The front tires caught traction and outran the rear. It straightened out and I turned it back away from the ditch with two lanes to go. That was a rude awakening for Scott. After he suppressed the urge to strangle me, he implored me to slow down and that it wasn’t worth crashing over. I realized he was right and that I was a little too over-zealous in my excitement. I slowed down to a manageable speed and called KZ back. They were about ten miles ahead. I informed them of a well-lit truck stop a few exits up and they agreed to stop there for food and gas.
When I pulled in and spotted KZ, my heart raced. With a surge of excitement about making the trip to Meadowlands, I also had a sense of dread because I realized what kind of car they were driving. KZ had another friend with him and they were in a two door hatchback Honda Civic. Honda’s are notoriously great cars for long trips for their dependability and great gas mileage. Unfortunately, they aren’t well suited to have a 6’4” 220 pound passenger in the back seat. But still, I had a ride to my dream, so I gritted my teeth and folded into the back seat for the long haul. About eleven hours later, we arrived and I was released from my purgatory in the back of the car into the paradise of gamer’s heaven that was an MLG event. I had a blast the whole weekend. I was surrounded by like-minded gamers that were every bit as excited as I was to be there. I met pro gamers, hot models, and TV personalities all with the same interest and drive for Halo 3 that I had. My team made it through round 2, but got knocked out early by some semi-pro veterans. That didn’t diminish the enjoyment taken from the trip, nor the satisfaction of successfully fulfilling one of my dreams even with the odds stacked against me. Over the course of that weekend, though I’d had an amazing experience in Meadowlands, I came to realize that it’s not always about the destination in life. Sometimes, the journey there is just as important.
TL/DR: Epic Trip to a Halo Tournament twists my perspective of the importance of living life for the journey rather than for the goal.
| About 3 days before MLG Meadowlands in 2009, one of my friends from Atlanta informed me that their 4th team member wasn’t going to show up for the event, so he offered me the spot on the team. The pass was paid for, the team registered; all I had to do was show up. When I found out I had the opportunity to play at a professional MLG event, I dropped everything to make it happen.
My initial reaction to the offer to play was that I’d never make it from Atlanta, Georgia to Meadowlands, NJ in time to make the event, but I told him I’d try my best. I tried everyone I knew in the area that was going. Unfortunately, most of them were flying. I didn’t have much disposable income, so that wasn’t an option for me. I only knew of one person, nicknamed KZ, driving from Atlanta to Meadowlands, but I couldn’t get in touch with him. I figured if I could make my way home in NC, I might have a better shot of finding a ride from there. Eventually, I heard an acquaintance I occasionally played Halo with(A) was making the trip with some friends from Raleigh, North Carolina on Thursday Morning around 9am. After talking to them off and on for a couple days, they said I could ride with them if I got there by the time they left. At this point, I’m ecstatic. I made plans for one of my best friends from high school named Scott to drive down after work and pick me up from Atlanta and bring me back to Denver, North Carolina. From there, my sister agreed to drive me to Raleigh to meet up with A and his friends by 9am Thursday morning, and off to Meadowlands I’d go. I get it all planned out and double check with A Wednesday to make sure we’re all set and everything seems golden, I’m going to Meadowlands, NJ to play Halo 3 in an MLG event.
I had everything ready to go when Scott arrived in Atlanta to pick me up around midnight Wednesday night. I knew A would still be up, so I texted him to double check that everything was planned out and to see how much room I would have for my stuff. I immediately get a text back apologizing that they already left Raleigh about 3 hours earlier because they didn’t want to wait till the morning. I was absolutely livid. Not only had I wasted all that time and had my hopes up, I had been struck by an encounter with Shady Halo Kids. They hadn’t even informed me they were leaving so I could cancel my plans to drive up there or make other arrangements. About 5 minutes later I got a text proclaiming that it was all an April fool’s joke. I felt dizzy, upset, and ecstatic all over again. I get ready to leave with Scott after texting him back to make sure all was ok for the trip when another response comes through saying that they really had left. The joke was actually when they stated it was an April fool’s joke. So, for the second time in less than twenty minutes, I’ve had my dream crushed and my blood pressure boiling. At this point, I resigned to accept the fact that I can’t make it to Meadowlands after all, but I’m not going to waste Scott’s effort in picking me up and I decided to go home for the weekend. We gather up my things and head out the door leaving my dorm room in Atlanta. On the way out, I tried calling KZ again as a last ditch effort, except this time, he answered the phone! Trying not to get too excited, I ask if he is still making the trip to Meadowlands from Atlanta driving. He says he is, but that he already left. Just my luck, they had already left and I’d missed my chance again. On a whim I asked where they were at and KZ told me they had only left about forty five minutes before and were headed up highway 85. Excitement building again, I ask if they would wait on me so I could catch a ride. KZ had no problem with me catching a ride, but they were on a time schedule and couldn’t afford to wait for me. The race was on.
My dream to play competitive Halo 3 at an MLG event had just been resurrected. It is 240 miles from my dorm in Atlanta to the North Carolina exit where I get off of highway 85 to go home. I have made that trip so many times, I was confident I could make up the time I was behind on the interstate. After a quick series of calculations, I determined that I would only have to beat them by an average of twelve miles per hour to catch them before they passed my house. Determined to not be left behind again, I tell KZ I’ll meet him at the North Carolina state line. Scott had pulled an eight hour shift at work before driving to Atlanta to pick me up, so I told him to catch some sleep while I drove. We loaded up into his 2000 Mitsubishi Eclipse and hit the highway. KZ told me that this was his first real road trip driving a long distance, so I knew he wouldn’t be comfortable speeding on the highway. I’d made that same trip from Atlanta to North Carolina up Highway 85 about ten times in the previous five months. I was confident I could outpace him because I was willing to speed. I knew the speed traps and where I could take advantage of the open road, as long as the weather held up. It was a relatively uneventful trip for the first 130 miles. Scott was sound asleep, snoring away the miles, and I was making great time. About 50 miles into South Carolina, it started raining. It wasn’t bad, but I knew it would slow me down. Worried I wouldn’t make it; I pushed the limits of safety and sped through the storm. About 20 miles from the designated meeting place; I’ve still got ground to gain, but its storming harder. Refusing to be beaten by weather, I pushed the limits of traction and sped right through Greenville, South Carolina. The road was open with no other cars around with 5 lanes to play with when disaster almost ruined the whole trip. I hit a spot on the highway going around a left-hand curve where the water had pooled up on the highway and I hydroplaned. Normally, this would have ended it all, but I had 4 other lanes to play with and several years of practice with controlled skid in race cars. With the rear end of the car out wide right, I downshifted and feathered the gas while turning back against the skid. The front tires caught traction and outran the rear. It straightened out and I turned it back away from the ditch with two lanes to go. That was a rude awakening for Scott. After he suppressed the urge to strangle me, he implored me to slow down and that it wasn’t worth crashing over. I realized he was right and that I was a little too over-zealous in my excitement. I slowed down to a manageable speed and called KZ back. They were about ten miles ahead. I informed them of a well-lit truck stop a few exits up and they agreed to stop there for food and gas.
When I pulled in and spotted KZ, my heart raced. With a surge of excitement about making the trip to Meadowlands, I also had a sense of dread because I realized what kind of car they were driving. KZ had another friend with him and they were in a two door hatchback Honda Civic. Honda’s are notoriously great cars for long trips for their dependability and great gas mileage. Unfortunately, they aren’t well suited to have a 6’4” 220 pound passenger in the back seat. But still, I had a ride to my dream, so I gritted my teeth and folded into the back seat for the long haul. About eleven hours later, we arrived and I was released from my purgatory in the back of the car into the paradise of gamer’s heaven that was an MLG event. I had a blast the whole weekend. I was surrounded by like-minded gamers that were every bit as excited as I was to be there. I met pro gamers, hot models, and TV personalities all with the same interest and drive for Halo 3 that I had. My team made it through round 2, but got knocked out early by some semi-pro veterans. That didn’t diminish the enjoyment taken from the trip, nor the satisfaction of successfully fulfilling one of my dreams even with the odds stacked against me. Over the course of that weekend, though I’d had an amazing experience in Meadowlands, I came to realize that it’s not always about the destination in life. Sometimes, the journey there is just as important.
TL/DR: Epic Trip to a Halo Tournament twists my perspective of the importance of living life for the journey rather than for the goal.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc978gq | About 3 days before MLG Meadowlands in 2009, one of my friends from Atlanta informed me that their 4th team member wasn’t going to show up for the event, so he offered me the spot on the team. The pass was paid for, the team registered; all I had to do was show up. When I found out I had the opportunity to play at a professional MLG event, I dropped everything to make it happen.
My initial reaction to the offer to play was that I’d never make it from Atlanta, Georgia to Meadowlands, NJ in time to make the event, but I told him I’d try my best. I tried everyone I knew in the area that was going. Unfortunately, most of them were flying. I didn’t have much disposable income, so that wasn’t an option for me. I only knew of one person, nicknamed KZ, driving from Atlanta to Meadowlands, but I couldn’t get in touch with him. I figured if I could make my way home in NC, I might have a better shot of finding a ride from there. Eventually, I heard an acquaintance I occasionally played Halo with(A) was making the trip with some friends from Raleigh, North Carolina on Thursday Morning around 9am. After talking to them off and on for a couple days, they said I could ride with them if I got there by the time they left. At this point, I’m ecstatic. I made plans for one of my best friends from high school named Scott to drive down after work and pick me up from Atlanta and bring me back to Denver, North Carolina. From there, my sister agreed to drive me to Raleigh to meet up with A and his friends by 9am Thursday morning, and off to Meadowlands I’d go. I get it all planned out and double check with A Wednesday to make sure we’re all set and everything seems golden, I’m going to Meadowlands, NJ to play Halo 3 in an MLG event.
I had everything ready to go when Scott arrived in Atlanta to pick me up around midnight Wednesday night. I knew A would still be up, so I texted him to double check that everything was planned out and to see how much room I would have for my stuff. I immediately get a text back apologizing that they already left Raleigh about 3 hours earlier because they didn’t want to wait till the morning. I was absolutely livid. Not only had I wasted all that time and had my hopes up, I had been struck by an encounter with Shady Halo Kids. They hadn’t even informed me they were leaving so I could cancel my plans to drive up there or make other arrangements. About 5 minutes later I got a text proclaiming that it was all an April fool’s joke. I felt dizzy, upset, and ecstatic all over again. I get ready to leave with Scott after texting him back to make sure all was ok for the trip when another response comes through saying that they really had left. The joke was actually when they stated it was an April fool’s joke. So, for the second time in less than twenty minutes, I’ve had my dream crushed and my blood pressure boiling. At this point, I resigned to accept the fact that I can’t make it to Meadowlands after all, but I’m not going to waste Scott’s effort in picking me up and I decided to go home for the weekend. We gather up my things and head out the door leaving my dorm room in Atlanta. On the way out, I tried calling KZ again as a last ditch effort, except this time, he answered the phone! Trying not to get too excited, I ask if he is still making the trip to Meadowlands from Atlanta driving. He says he is, but that he already left. Just my luck, they had already left and I’d missed my chance again. On a whim I asked where they were at and KZ told me they had only left about forty five minutes before and were headed up highway 85. Excitement building again, I ask if they would wait on me so I could catch a ride. KZ had no problem with me catching a ride, but they were on a time schedule and couldn’t afford to wait for me. The race was on.
My dream to play competitive Halo 3 at an MLG event had just been resurrected. It is 240 miles from my dorm in Atlanta to the North Carolina exit where I get off of highway 85 to go home. I have made that trip so many times, I was confident I could make up the time I was behind on the interstate. After a quick series of calculations, I determined that I would only have to beat them by an average of twelve miles per hour to catch them before they passed my house. Determined to not be left behind again, I tell KZ I’ll meet him at the North Carolina state line. Scott had pulled an eight hour shift at work before driving to Atlanta to pick me up, so I told him to catch some sleep while I drove. We loaded up into his 2000 Mitsubishi Eclipse and hit the highway. KZ told me that this was his first real road trip driving a long distance, so I knew he wouldn’t be comfortable speeding on the highway. I’d made that same trip from Atlanta to North Carolina up Highway 85 about ten times in the previous five months. I was confident I could outpace him because I was willing to speed. I knew the speed traps and where I could take advantage of the open road, as long as the weather held up. It was a relatively uneventful trip for the first 130 miles. Scott was sound asleep, snoring away the miles, and I was making great time. About 50 miles into South Carolina, it started raining. It wasn’t bad, but I knew it would slow me down. Worried I wouldn’t make it; I pushed the limits of safety and sped through the storm. About 20 miles from the designated meeting place; I’ve still got ground to gain, but its storming harder. Refusing to be beaten by weather, I pushed the limits of traction and sped right through Greenville, South Carolina. The road was open with no other cars around with 5 lanes to play with when disaster almost ruined the whole trip. I hit a spot on the highway going around a left-hand curve where the water had pooled up on the highway and I hydroplaned. Normally, this would have ended it all, but I had 4 other lanes to play with and several years of practice with controlled skid in race cars. With the rear end of the car out wide right, I downshifted and feathered the gas while turning back against the skid. The front tires caught traction and outran the rear. It straightened out and I turned it back away from the ditch with two lanes to go. That was a rude awakening for Scott. After he suppressed the urge to strangle me, he implored me to slow down and that it wasn’t worth crashing over. I realized he was right and that I was a little too over-zealous in my excitement. I slowed down to a manageable speed and called KZ back. They were about ten miles ahead. I informed them of a well-lit truck stop a few exits up and they agreed to stop there for food and gas.
When I pulled in and spotted KZ, my heart raced. With a surge of excitement about making the trip to Meadowlands, I also had a sense of dread because I realized what kind of car they were driving. KZ had another friend with him and they were in a two door hatchback Honda Civic. Honda’s are notoriously great cars for long trips for their dependability and great gas mileage. Unfortunately, they aren’t well suited to have a 6’4” 220 pound passenger in the back seat. But still, I had a ride to my dream, so I gritted my teeth and folded into the back seat for the long haul. About eleven hours later, we arrived and I was released from my purgatory in the back of the car into the paradise of gamer’s heaven that was an MLG event. I had a blast the whole weekend. I was surrounded by like-minded gamers that were every bit as excited as I was to be there. I met pro gamers, hot models, and TV personalities all with the same interest and drive for Halo 3 that I had. My team made it through round 2, but got knocked out early by some semi-pro veterans. That didn’t diminish the enjoyment taken from the trip, nor the satisfaction of successfully fulfilling one of my dreams even with the odds stacked against me. Over the course of that weekend, though I’d had an amazing experience in Meadowlands, I came to realize that it’s not always about the destination in life. Sometimes, the journey there is just as important. | Epic Trip to a Halo Tournament twists my perspective of the importance of living life for the journey rather than for the goal. |
Samoe97 | From when I was 3 to about 7 my neighbor (who's a year older than me) and I used to do dirty things together. One story that my folks LOVE to tell girls I bring home is when I was 4, we had gotten naked and were ~~having sex~~ kissing in the compartment under a water bed. My older sister came into the room and saw clothes all over the floor and heard us. When I was 7 and my neighbor was 8, she told me that she didn't want to play the "dirty game" anymore. I pouted and asked why, and she said that she was too old for me.
She moved away 2 months later, and I didn't see her again until my freshman year of high school.
Now, I'm a junior and she's a senior. I play video games at lunch and have Brawl tournaments and she's a cheerleader who's fucked every guy on the football team. We haven't ever spoken about what happened.
TL;DR I got freaky with the head cheerleader when we were both under 8 years old. | From when I was 3 to about 7 my neighbor (who's a year older than me) and I used to do dirty things together. One story that my folks LOVE to tell girls I bring home is when I was 4, we had gotten naked and were having sex kissing in the compartment under a water bed. My older sister came into the room and saw clothes all over the floor and heard us. When I was 7 and my neighbor was 8, she told me that she didn't want to play the "dirty game" anymore. I pouted and asked why, and she said that she was too old for me.
She moved away 2 months later, and I didn't see her again until my freshman year of high school.
Now, I'm a junior and she's a senior. I play video games at lunch and have Brawl tournaments and she's a cheerleader who's fucked every guy on the football team. We haven't ever spoken about what happened.
TL;DR I got freaky with the head cheerleader when we were both under 8 years old.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc97eci | From when I was 3 to about 7 my neighbor (who's a year older than me) and I used to do dirty things together. One story that my folks LOVE to tell girls I bring home is when I was 4, we had gotten naked and were having sex kissing in the compartment under a water bed. My older sister came into the room and saw clothes all over the floor and heard us. When I was 7 and my neighbor was 8, she told me that she didn't want to play the "dirty game" anymore. I pouted and asked why, and she said that she was too old for me.
She moved away 2 months later, and I didn't see her again until my freshman year of high school.
Now, I'm a junior and she's a senior. I play video games at lunch and have Brawl tournaments and she's a cheerleader who's fucked every guy on the football team. We haven't ever spoken about what happened. | I got freaky with the head cheerleader when we were both under 8 years old. |
Limo4 | I know I'm a little late to the party but I heard this story in my graphic design class last year and couldn't believe it. The source wouldn't make this up, she just wasn't one to make up stories for credit.
Anyways, her friend was going on a week vacation so she asked her other friend to watch her dog. She leaves for vacation and the other friend helping out took the dog for a walk. The dog dies on the walk, just straight up passes out. She had no idea what to do with the dog at this point. Being in the middle of Chicago, she puts the dog into her backpack to get on the train and take it to wherever you take dead dogs (didn't get that detail). She rides the train and gets off when this guy sprints past her and STEALS HER BAG.
I can only imagine the guys look on his face when he unzipped that bag. Karma at it's finest.
TL;DR: Guy steals backpack stuffed with dead dog. | I know I'm a little late to the party but I heard this story in my graphic design class last year and couldn't believe it. The source wouldn't make this up, she just wasn't one to make up stories for credit.
Anyways, her friend was going on a week vacation so she asked her other friend to watch her dog. She leaves for vacation and the other friend helping out took the dog for a walk. The dog dies on the walk, just straight up passes out. She had no idea what to do with the dog at this point. Being in the middle of Chicago, she puts the dog into her backpack to get on the train and take it to wherever you take dead dogs (didn't get that detail). She rides the train and gets off when this guy sprints past her and STEALS HER BAG.
I can only imagine the guys look on his face when he unzipped that bag. Karma at it's finest.
TL;DR: Guy steals backpack stuffed with dead dog.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc97kv9 | I know I'm a little late to the party but I heard this story in my graphic design class last year and couldn't believe it. The source wouldn't make this up, she just wasn't one to make up stories for credit.
Anyways, her friend was going on a week vacation so she asked her other friend to watch her dog. She leaves for vacation and the other friend helping out took the dog for a walk. The dog dies on the walk, just straight up passes out. She had no idea what to do with the dog at this point. Being in the middle of Chicago, she puts the dog into her backpack to get on the train and take it to wherever you take dead dogs (didn't get that detail). She rides the train and gets off when this guy sprints past her and STEALS HER BAG.
I can only imagine the guys look on his face when he unzipped that bag. Karma at it's finest. | Guy steals backpack stuffed with dead dog. |
Greenautobus | One time at bandcamp... No not a sex story. But still good. We were all at the beach and it was about a mile to the bathroom and you had to notify a counselor before you left for it incase some shit went down and you missed something. The night before was taco night and a I had waited 30 minutes for a counselor to show up to the shore so I could notify them. I soon rushed up the paths to the camp grounds to the closest bathroom. Well we also had to share the camp grounds with a Christian camp so the closest bathroom was inside of a church. I barged in in the middle of one of their religious whatnots needing to go to shit a shit larger than anything before. With all eyes on the intruder I rushed to the bathroom and shit myself right before the door. I rushed in and shit poured all over the floor. I washed up the floor and tried to wash out my bathing suit the best I could only to have to throw it out. I stood their nude wrapping a towel around my shit covered waist in the men's bathroom throwing the toilet paper I used to clean the bathroom floor into the toilet. I flushed it away and the toilet was then clogged. I walked out slowly with the towel around my waist and exited the church. Then from across the field was a the band campers coming up from the beach in a group of about 60. I walked with them acting like I had a bathing suit under the towel. We walked a mile to the cabins where I took a shower and never told anyone this ever happened.
TL:DR: I shit in a church and walked back to the showers nude. | One time at bandcamp... No not a sex story. But still good. We were all at the beach and it was about a mile to the bathroom and you had to notify a counselor before you left for it incase some shit went down and you missed something. The night before was taco night and a I had waited 30 minutes for a counselor to show up to the shore so I could notify them. I soon rushed up the paths to the camp grounds to the closest bathroom. Well we also had to share the camp grounds with a Christian camp so the closest bathroom was inside of a church. I barged in in the middle of one of their religious whatnots needing to go to shit a shit larger than anything before. With all eyes on the intruder I rushed to the bathroom and shit myself right before the door. I rushed in and shit poured all over the floor. I washed up the floor and tried to wash out my bathing suit the best I could only to have to throw it out. I stood their nude wrapping a towel around my shit covered waist in the men's bathroom throwing the toilet paper I used to clean the bathroom floor into the toilet. I flushed it away and the toilet was then clogged. I walked out slowly with the towel around my waist and exited the church. Then from across the field was a the band campers coming up from the beach in a group of about 60. I walked with them acting like I had a bathing suit under the towel. We walked a mile to the cabins where I took a shower and never told anyone this ever happened.
TL:DR: I shit in a church and walked back to the showers nude.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc97llo | One time at bandcamp... No not a sex story. But still good. We were all at the beach and it was about a mile to the bathroom and you had to notify a counselor before you left for it incase some shit went down and you missed something. The night before was taco night and a I had waited 30 minutes for a counselor to show up to the shore so I could notify them. I soon rushed up the paths to the camp grounds to the closest bathroom. Well we also had to share the camp grounds with a Christian camp so the closest bathroom was inside of a church. I barged in in the middle of one of their religious whatnots needing to go to shit a shit larger than anything before. With all eyes on the intruder I rushed to the bathroom and shit myself right before the door. I rushed in and shit poured all over the floor. I washed up the floor and tried to wash out my bathing suit the best I could only to have to throw it out. I stood their nude wrapping a towel around my shit covered waist in the men's bathroom throwing the toilet paper I used to clean the bathroom floor into the toilet. I flushed it away and the toilet was then clogged. I walked out slowly with the towel around my waist and exited the church. Then from across the field was a the band campers coming up from the beach in a group of about 60. I walked with them acting like I had a bathing suit under the towel. We walked a mile to the cabins where I took a shower and never told anyone this ever happened. | I shit in a church and walked back to the showers nude. |
saliczar | I was camping at a lot near the Indianapolis Motor Speedway for the Indy 500. There are two adjacent lots, and the only way to compare them, is that ours is the country club, while the other is a a trailer-park; a third-world war-zone of a trailer park. You do not go there after dark.
After dark, we head over to find a party. There are three of us; me and two guys from the campsite next to mine. We cross the bridge and stop two steps into the other lot. We are each checking our phones looking for other members of our groups. Some guy taps me on the shoulder and asks me if I'm talking shit. I wasn't even facing him, and didn't even know he was there. I tell him that, and that no, I wasn't taking shit. I go back to looking at my phone.
Next thing I know, the guy on my left gets punched in the face (we'll call him "Punch Face", since I am so creative.). Then I get punched in the face, it was the first time I've ever been hit in the face. I am pretty drunk, so my head just kind of rolls with the punch, and it didn't really hurt, though my gums were bleeding like crazy. The attacker then goes after the third guy in my group, who takes him to the ground.
They wrestle for a few seconds, then the attacker's friends pull my friend off him, all 14 of them. This all went down so fast, that I really didn't know what the fuck was going on.
Apparently, they were a gang that had been jumping people in that lot for years. I know this, because a friend on mine had gotten jumped by them the year before.
The attacker's friends then apologized to us and tried to keep us from retaliating (as if we stood any chance against all of them). We were in an open area, and within sight of the police tent.
We head back to our site and have a few more beers. The first guy that was punched had blood all over his face, a black eye, and a concussion. He kept wanting to go after them and/or go to the cop tent. I really didn't want to get the cops involved, and neither did his friend.
I go back to my car to get another beer, come back, and "Punch Face" (as he is called in my phone contacts) is missing. We search around, and find him at the cop tent. He is telling them everything and gets me involved. I had to give them my driver's license and contact info. They took pictures of my face and gums. "Punch Face" fucking tells the cops that he is going to kill the attacker! all I can think of, is that these guys are going to get killed, and now we are on record with him saying that.
We put "Punch Face" in his tent and went to bed. He wakes up puking and has to go to the hospital. His eye socket was fractured.
**TL;DR: I found out that I can take a punch.** | I was camping at a lot near the Indianapolis Motor Speedway for the Indy 500. There are two adjacent lots, and the only way to compare them, is that ours is the country club, while the other is a a trailer-park; a third-world war-zone of a trailer park. You do not go there after dark.
After dark, we head over to find a party. There are three of us; me and two guys from the campsite next to mine. We cross the bridge and stop two steps into the other lot. We are each checking our phones looking for other members of our groups. Some guy taps me on the shoulder and asks me if I'm talking shit. I wasn't even facing him, and didn't even know he was there. I tell him that, and that no, I wasn't taking shit. I go back to looking at my phone.
Next thing I know, the guy on my left gets punched in the face (we'll call him "Punch Face", since I am so creative.). Then I get punched in the face, it was the first time I've ever been hit in the face. I am pretty drunk, so my head just kind of rolls with the punch, and it didn't really hurt, though my gums were bleeding like crazy. The attacker then goes after the third guy in my group, who takes him to the ground.
They wrestle for a few seconds, then the attacker's friends pull my friend off him, all 14 of them. This all went down so fast, that I really didn't know what the fuck was going on.
Apparently, they were a gang that had been jumping people in that lot for years. I know this, because a friend on mine had gotten jumped by them the year before.
The attacker's friends then apologized to us and tried to keep us from retaliating (as if we stood any chance against all of them). We were in an open area, and within sight of the police tent.
We head back to our site and have a few more beers. The first guy that was punched had blood all over his face, a black eye, and a concussion. He kept wanting to go after them and/or go to the cop tent. I really didn't want to get the cops involved, and neither did his friend.
I go back to my car to get another beer, come back, and "Punch Face" (as he is called in my phone contacts) is missing. We search around, and find him at the cop tent. He is telling them everything and gets me involved. I had to give them my driver's license and contact info. They took pictures of my face and gums. "Punch Face" fucking tells the cops that he is going to kill the attacker! all I can think of, is that these guys are going to get killed, and now we are on record with him saying that.
We put "Punch Face" in his tent and went to bed. He wakes up puking and has to go to the hospital. His eye socket was fractured.
TL;DR: I found out that I can take a punch.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc97mn8 | I was camping at a lot near the Indianapolis Motor Speedway for the Indy 500. There are two adjacent lots, and the only way to compare them, is that ours is the country club, while the other is a a trailer-park; a third-world war-zone of a trailer park. You do not go there after dark.
After dark, we head over to find a party. There are three of us; me and two guys from the campsite next to mine. We cross the bridge and stop two steps into the other lot. We are each checking our phones looking for other members of our groups. Some guy taps me on the shoulder and asks me if I'm talking shit. I wasn't even facing him, and didn't even know he was there. I tell him that, and that no, I wasn't taking shit. I go back to looking at my phone.
Next thing I know, the guy on my left gets punched in the face (we'll call him "Punch Face", since I am so creative.). Then I get punched in the face, it was the first time I've ever been hit in the face. I am pretty drunk, so my head just kind of rolls with the punch, and it didn't really hurt, though my gums were bleeding like crazy. The attacker then goes after the third guy in my group, who takes him to the ground.
They wrestle for a few seconds, then the attacker's friends pull my friend off him, all 14 of them. This all went down so fast, that I really didn't know what the fuck was going on.
Apparently, they were a gang that had been jumping people in that lot for years. I know this, because a friend on mine had gotten jumped by them the year before.
The attacker's friends then apologized to us and tried to keep us from retaliating (as if we stood any chance against all of them). We were in an open area, and within sight of the police tent.
We head back to our site and have a few more beers. The first guy that was punched had blood all over his face, a black eye, and a concussion. He kept wanting to go after them and/or go to the cop tent. I really didn't want to get the cops involved, and neither did his friend.
I go back to my car to get another beer, come back, and "Punch Face" (as he is called in my phone contacts) is missing. We search around, and find him at the cop tent. He is telling them everything and gets me involved. I had to give them my driver's license and contact info. They took pictures of my face and gums. "Punch Face" fucking tells the cops that he is going to kill the attacker! all I can think of, is that these guys are going to get killed, and now we are on record with him saying that.
We put "Punch Face" in his tent and went to bed. He wakes up puking and has to go to the hospital. His eye socket was fractured. | I found out that I can take a punch. |
dokychamado | When I was in 2nd grade I was at the schools Halloween carnival and I was hanging out with about 8-9 of the other guys in my class. As we're playing tag in the parking lot we find someone dressed in a dog suit. They came over and starting planing with us and after about 10 mins we have gotten the person in the costume on to the ground and we proceed to kick her while she is yelling at us to stop. when other adults start to see what is happening and come over we run away and sneak back to the Halloween carnival. the person in the suite ended up being one of the teachers 22 year old daughter. the next day all the teachers talked to their students about violence and asked if anyone knew what happened, none of the us said a word. none of us ever got in trouble, my mom who is a teacher at the school told me that the girl had to go to the hospital and but ended up being just a little scraped and bruised up.
TL;DR: Me and a gang of 7 year olds in my class beat up a teacher's daughter. | When I was in 2nd grade I was at the schools Halloween carnival and I was hanging out with about 8-9 of the other guys in my class. As we're playing tag in the parking lot we find someone dressed in a dog suit. They came over and starting planing with us and after about 10 mins we have gotten the person in the costume on to the ground and we proceed to kick her while she is yelling at us to stop. when other adults start to see what is happening and come over we run away and sneak back to the Halloween carnival. the person in the suite ended up being one of the teachers 22 year old daughter. the next day all the teachers talked to their students about violence and asked if anyone knew what happened, none of the us said a word. none of us ever got in trouble, my mom who is a teacher at the school told me that the girl had to go to the hospital and but ended up being just a little scraped and bruised up.
TL;DR: Me and a gang of 7 year olds in my class beat up a teacher's daughter.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc97mr4 | When I was in 2nd grade I was at the schools Halloween carnival and I was hanging out with about 8-9 of the other guys in my class. As we're playing tag in the parking lot we find someone dressed in a dog suit. They came over and starting planing with us and after about 10 mins we have gotten the person in the costume on to the ground and we proceed to kick her while she is yelling at us to stop. when other adults start to see what is happening and come over we run away and sneak back to the Halloween carnival. the person in the suite ended up being one of the teachers 22 year old daughter. the next day all the teachers talked to their students about violence and asked if anyone knew what happened, none of the us said a word. none of us ever got in trouble, my mom who is a teacher at the school told me that the girl had to go to the hospital and but ended up being just a little scraped and bruised up. | Me and a gang of 7 year olds in my class beat up a teacher's daughter. |
daviannamorgan | I was almost killed by a dentist. I needed a root canal on two teeth. I got the one done, made an appointment for the second... and the dentist quit between times, but my appointment was going to be done by the owner of the practice.
It was infected, and I told him. Instead of sending me home with antibiotics, he opened me up anyway. And you could smell the infection when he did. It hadn't been infected long, either.
Well, he starts struggling... and tells me that he can't finish my root canal, my teeth are calcified, and I have to go to the endodontist. He seals me back up and sends me on my way. This was on Friday.
A few hours later, my face starts hurting, and it swells up to the point I can't open my mouth almost at all. I call his practice... and his wife tells me he left the country, and left no dentist on call (he really went to Alaska to go fishing.)
I ended up at the endodonist on Monday, and he was PISSED. I ended up on compound antibiotics, percocet, and prednisone to treat the swelling. He told me that I should've honestly gone to the emergency room, and that if this didn't help, I was to go immediately.
When I finished my root canal after I finished the antibiotics, he asked me why he sealed me up and referred me. When I told him that he told me that my roots were calcified. He went, "What?!?" They apparently weren't calcified, all he had to do was move a few centimeters over because they were ledged.
He walked out with me, grabbed the dentist's cards and brochures from the counter (they had a referral thing going on) and tossed them in the trash.
**TL:DR; Incompetent dentists seals an infection in my face, endodontist fixes me and saves me from blood poisoning.** | I was almost killed by a dentist. I needed a root canal on two teeth. I got the one done, made an appointment for the second... and the dentist quit between times, but my appointment was going to be done by the owner of the practice.
It was infected, and I told him. Instead of sending me home with antibiotics, he opened me up anyway. And you could smell the infection when he did. It hadn't been infected long, either.
Well, he starts struggling... and tells me that he can't finish my root canal, my teeth are calcified, and I have to go to the endodontist. He seals me back up and sends me on my way. This was on Friday.
A few hours later, my face starts hurting, and it swells up to the point I can't open my mouth almost at all. I call his practice... and his wife tells me he left the country, and left no dentist on call (he really went to Alaska to go fishing.)
I ended up at the endodonist on Monday, and he was PISSED. I ended up on compound antibiotics, percocet, and prednisone to treat the swelling. He told me that I should've honestly gone to the emergency room, and that if this didn't help, I was to go immediately.
When I finished my root canal after I finished the antibiotics, he asked me why he sealed me up and referred me. When I told him that he told me that my roots were calcified. He went, "What?!?" They apparently weren't calcified, all he had to do was move a few centimeters over because they were ledged.
He walked out with me, grabbed the dentist's cards and brochures from the counter (they had a referral thing going on) and tossed them in the trash.
TL:DR; Incompetent dentists seals an infection in my face, endodontist fixes me and saves me from blood poisoning.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc97u8v | I was almost killed by a dentist. I needed a root canal on two teeth. I got the one done, made an appointment for the second... and the dentist quit between times, but my appointment was going to be done by the owner of the practice.
It was infected, and I told him. Instead of sending me home with antibiotics, he opened me up anyway. And you could smell the infection when he did. It hadn't been infected long, either.
Well, he starts struggling... and tells me that he can't finish my root canal, my teeth are calcified, and I have to go to the endodontist. He seals me back up and sends me on my way. This was on Friday.
A few hours later, my face starts hurting, and it swells up to the point I can't open my mouth almost at all. I call his practice... and his wife tells me he left the country, and left no dentist on call (he really went to Alaska to go fishing.)
I ended up at the endodonist on Monday, and he was PISSED. I ended up on compound antibiotics, percocet, and prednisone to treat the swelling. He told me that I should've honestly gone to the emergency room, and that if this didn't help, I was to go immediately.
When I finished my root canal after I finished the antibiotics, he asked me why he sealed me up and referred me. When I told him that he told me that my roots were calcified. He went, "What?!?" They apparently weren't calcified, all he had to do was move a few centimeters over because they were ledged.
He walked out with me, grabbed the dentist's cards and brochures from the counter (they had a referral thing going on) and tossed them in the trash. | Incompetent dentists seals an infection in my face, endodontist fixes me and saves me from blood poisoning. |
qwertymodo | My ex-fiance's new bf isn't exactly the smartest spoon in the drawer. One night, she texted me to say he'd shot himself in the hand with his BB gun, immediately after telling her "it's not loaded, see?" I wish I was joking. Anyway, apparently he tried and failed multiple times to dig the thing out, and had only succeeded in getting it badly infected. So, she tells me he's going to try again that night, and some crazy, bored part of my brain convinces me to offer to help. I figure if nothing else, there's no way I could do a worse job than he was about to do to himself, to say nothing of the whole volunteering to perform surgery on my ex's new bf, with whom she was having a child. I don't know why I did, I never do crazy spontaneous things like this. I still don't know.
So, on a random Monday night, a school night, on a complete whim, I drive to Wal-Mart to acquire supplies, wondering what the cashier will think of me purchasing an Exacto craft scalpel, antibiotics, gauze, and running alcohol (Edit: [obligatory relevant XKCD]( for the tooltip). I show up at their place, and he's been getting drunk, for lack of local anesthetics. The first thing he says to me is, "Don't worry about that stuff in the corner."
"Huh?"
"The gun, the Taser, the mace. Don't worry about that stuff."
So here I am, alone in this place at around 11pm with my ex-fiance's drunk boyfriend on whom I've just agreed to perform redneck surgery, and he's just brought my attention to a handgun and Taser within arms reach as his first words to me. Frak.
Turns out the "gun" was the BB gun that started this whole thing, not an actual handgun, but I wouldn't know that until the next day, and I didn't feel like asking.
Between the booze and a bag of ice I'd brought, we managed to numb up his hand... slightly. Fun fact, skin is a lot tougher to cut through than you'd think. It's also surprisingly difficult to locate a BB embedded in someone's hand. Long story short, with frequent breaks taken any time the pain caused him to look like he was going to punch a wall, or me, we were there a couple of hours, never got the thing out, and found out after starting that there was no running water and only the few paper towels I'd brought. Also, alcohol is a blood thinner. You get the idea. But I did manage to get the infection out from his previous attempts, so the next morning he said it felt way better. If I were a vindictive person (I'm not), I'd have taken great pleasure in having him literally thank me for cutting him open... but instead, I've just decided that's one once-in-a-lifetime experiences I'd rather stayed that way.
tl;dr Agreed to perform hand surgery on my ex's new guy because he's an idiot and I was bored. Forevermore affirmed my decision to pursue a career as a computer engineer, not a surgeon. | My ex-fiance's new bf isn't exactly the smartest spoon in the drawer. One night, she texted me to say he'd shot himself in the hand with his BB gun, immediately after telling her "it's not loaded, see?" I wish I was joking. Anyway, apparently he tried and failed multiple times to dig the thing out, and had only succeeded in getting it badly infected. So, she tells me he's going to try again that night, and some crazy, bored part of my brain convinces me to offer to help. I figure if nothing else, there's no way I could do a worse job than he was about to do to himself, to say nothing of the whole volunteering to perform surgery on my ex's new bf, with whom she was having a child. I don't know why I did, I never do crazy spontaneous things like this. I still don't know.
So, on a random Monday night, a school night, on a complete whim, I drive to Wal-Mart to acquire supplies, wondering what the cashier will think of me purchasing an Exacto craft scalpel, antibiotics, gauze, and running alcohol (Edit: obligatory relevant XKCD . I show up at their place, and he's been getting drunk, for lack of local anesthetics. The first thing he says to me is, "Don't worry about that stuff in the corner."
"Huh?"
"The gun, the Taser, the mace. Don't worry about that stuff."
So here I am, alone in this place at around 11pm with my ex-fiance's drunk boyfriend on whom I've just agreed to perform redneck surgery, and he's just brought my attention to a handgun and Taser within arms reach as his first words to me. Frak.
Turns out the "gun" was the BB gun that started this whole thing, not an actual handgun, but I wouldn't know that until the next day, and I didn't feel like asking.
Between the booze and a bag of ice I'd brought, we managed to numb up his hand... slightly. Fun fact, skin is a lot tougher to cut through than you'd think. It's also surprisingly difficult to locate a BB embedded in someone's hand. Long story short, with frequent breaks taken any time the pain caused him to look like he was going to punch a wall, or me, we were there a couple of hours, never got the thing out, and found out after starting that there was no running water and only the few paper towels I'd brought. Also, alcohol is a blood thinner. You get the idea. But I did manage to get the infection out from his previous attempts, so the next morning he said it felt way better. If I were a vindictive person (I'm not), I'd have taken great pleasure in having him literally thank me for cutting him open... but instead, I've just decided that's one once-in-a-lifetime experiences I'd rather stayed that way.
tl;dr Agreed to perform hand surgery on my ex's new guy because he's an idiot and I was bored. Forevermore affirmed my decision to pursue a career as a computer engineer, not a surgeon.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc980vf | My ex-fiance's new bf isn't exactly the smartest spoon in the drawer. One night, she texted me to say he'd shot himself in the hand with his BB gun, immediately after telling her "it's not loaded, see?" I wish I was joking. Anyway, apparently he tried and failed multiple times to dig the thing out, and had only succeeded in getting it badly infected. So, she tells me he's going to try again that night, and some crazy, bored part of my brain convinces me to offer to help. I figure if nothing else, there's no way I could do a worse job than he was about to do to himself, to say nothing of the whole volunteering to perform surgery on my ex's new bf, with whom she was having a child. I don't know why I did, I never do crazy spontaneous things like this. I still don't know.
So, on a random Monday night, a school night, on a complete whim, I drive to Wal-Mart to acquire supplies, wondering what the cashier will think of me purchasing an Exacto craft scalpel, antibiotics, gauze, and running alcohol (Edit: obligatory relevant XKCD . I show up at their place, and he's been getting drunk, for lack of local anesthetics. The first thing he says to me is, "Don't worry about that stuff in the corner."
"Huh?"
"The gun, the Taser, the mace. Don't worry about that stuff."
So here I am, alone in this place at around 11pm with my ex-fiance's drunk boyfriend on whom I've just agreed to perform redneck surgery, and he's just brought my attention to a handgun and Taser within arms reach as his first words to me. Frak.
Turns out the "gun" was the BB gun that started this whole thing, not an actual handgun, but I wouldn't know that until the next day, and I didn't feel like asking.
Between the booze and a bag of ice I'd brought, we managed to numb up his hand... slightly. Fun fact, skin is a lot tougher to cut through than you'd think. It's also surprisingly difficult to locate a BB embedded in someone's hand. Long story short, with frequent breaks taken any time the pain caused him to look like he was going to punch a wall, or me, we were there a couple of hours, never got the thing out, and found out after starting that there was no running water and only the few paper towels I'd brought. Also, alcohol is a blood thinner. You get the idea. But I did manage to get the infection out from his previous attempts, so the next morning he said it felt way better. If I were a vindictive person (I'm not), I'd have taken great pleasure in having him literally thank me for cutting him open... but instead, I've just decided that's one once-in-a-lifetime experiences I'd rather stayed that way. | Agreed to perform hand surgery on my ex's new guy because he's an idiot and I was bored. Forevermore affirmed my decision to pursue a career as a computer engineer, not a surgeon. |
saliczar | I had a week off, and nothing to do. I had never partied in Nashville, TN, so I jumped in my car and headed South. A close friend of mine found out that I was going to be there, and she was in-town for the CMT awards with a friend of hers. I had no idea that was even going on, and was lucky as hell to get a (very expensive) room last-minute. She asked if she and her friend could stay with me, since I was a block away from the venue, and they were staying 45-minutes away. I obliged.
They had waited in line all day in the hot sun to get wrist-bands to be seat-fillers at the awards. When they left to go wait in line, I decided to wait with them, planning on hitting the bars as soon as they reached the front of the line.
I have a tendency to go places I am not allowed, so as we reached the doors, I rolled down my sleeve, and pretended to have a wrist-band. I just threw my arm in the air and quickly walked in (this works all the time).
I ended up filling seats for the awards show, and my friends were pretty pissed/jealous that I didn't have to wait in line all day for the band. I don't even like country music, but I had a few beers, and had a blast.
On one of my beer runs, a security guard asked to see my band, and I told her the truth. She laughed her ass off, and let me go back to my seat.
After the show, we hit the bars all night, and had a really awesome night.
The next day, I decided to go to Dallas, TX for an Indycar race. I ended up with VIP passes, so I spent the day in the garages and pits talking to the drivers and crews. I actually got to watch part of the race from the pits, though that was not allowed with my credentials.
After the race, I partied with some random tailgaters and made a lot of new friends.
The next day, I went through Moore, Ok, and wholly shit, that place was destroyed.
I stopped at a casino near St. Louis, and got the best hook-up at the hotel. It was a slow night and I was a first-time guest, so they gave me the Presidential suite, some free slot-play, and free buffet. I lost $100 in about three minutes playing roulette, then went to the bar. I hung out there all night with random strangers and a trio of beautiful women, and bought some kid his first legal drink (they actually made him stand away from the bar until midnight).
**TL;DR: I don't like country music** | I had a week off, and nothing to do. I had never partied in Nashville, TN, so I jumped in my car and headed South. A close friend of mine found out that I was going to be there, and she was in-town for the CMT awards with a friend of hers. I had no idea that was even going on, and was lucky as hell to get a (very expensive) room last-minute. She asked if she and her friend could stay with me, since I was a block away from the venue, and they were staying 45-minutes away. I obliged.
They had waited in line all day in the hot sun to get wrist-bands to be seat-fillers at the awards. When they left to go wait in line, I decided to wait with them, planning on hitting the bars as soon as they reached the front of the line.
I have a tendency to go places I am not allowed, so as we reached the doors, I rolled down my sleeve, and pretended to have a wrist-band. I just threw my arm in the air and quickly walked in (this works all the time).
I ended up filling seats for the awards show, and my friends were pretty pissed/jealous that I didn't have to wait in line all day for the band. I don't even like country music, but I had a few beers, and had a blast.
On one of my beer runs, a security guard asked to see my band, and I told her the truth. She laughed her ass off, and let me go back to my seat.
After the show, we hit the bars all night, and had a really awesome night.
The next day, I decided to go to Dallas, TX for an Indycar race. I ended up with VIP passes, so I spent the day in the garages and pits talking to the drivers and crews. I actually got to watch part of the race from the pits, though that was not allowed with my credentials.
After the race, I partied with some random tailgaters and made a lot of new friends.
The next day, I went through Moore, Ok, and wholly shit, that place was destroyed.
I stopped at a casino near St. Louis, and got the best hook-up at the hotel. It was a slow night and I was a first-time guest, so they gave me the Presidential suite, some free slot-play, and free buffet. I lost $100 in about three minutes playing roulette, then went to the bar. I hung out there all night with random strangers and a trio of beautiful women, and bought some kid his first legal drink (they actually made him stand away from the bar until midnight).
TL;DR: I don't like country music
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc9822x | I had a week off, and nothing to do. I had never partied in Nashville, TN, so I jumped in my car and headed South. A close friend of mine found out that I was going to be there, and she was in-town for the CMT awards with a friend of hers. I had no idea that was even going on, and was lucky as hell to get a (very expensive) room last-minute. She asked if she and her friend could stay with me, since I was a block away from the venue, and they were staying 45-minutes away. I obliged.
They had waited in line all day in the hot sun to get wrist-bands to be seat-fillers at the awards. When they left to go wait in line, I decided to wait with them, planning on hitting the bars as soon as they reached the front of the line.
I have a tendency to go places I am not allowed, so as we reached the doors, I rolled down my sleeve, and pretended to have a wrist-band. I just threw my arm in the air and quickly walked in (this works all the time).
I ended up filling seats for the awards show, and my friends were pretty pissed/jealous that I didn't have to wait in line all day for the band. I don't even like country music, but I had a few beers, and had a blast.
On one of my beer runs, a security guard asked to see my band, and I told her the truth. She laughed her ass off, and let me go back to my seat.
After the show, we hit the bars all night, and had a really awesome night.
The next day, I decided to go to Dallas, TX for an Indycar race. I ended up with VIP passes, so I spent the day in the garages and pits talking to the drivers and crews. I actually got to watch part of the race from the pits, though that was not allowed with my credentials.
After the race, I partied with some random tailgaters and made a lot of new friends.
The next day, I went through Moore, Ok, and wholly shit, that place was destroyed.
I stopped at a casino near St. Louis, and got the best hook-up at the hotel. It was a slow night and I was a first-time guest, so they gave me the Presidential suite, some free slot-play, and free buffet. I lost $100 in about three minutes playing roulette, then went to the bar. I hung out there all night with random strangers and a trio of beautiful women, and bought some kid his first legal drink (they actually made him stand away from the bar until midnight). | I don't like country music |
AthenasAnxious | When I was 17 and suffering (dying) from a very accelerated eating disorder also fresh out of a very abusive relationship, my family really didn't know how to help me. My brothers best friend suggested I stay with his sister and her husband over spring break in their apartment in Kauai, Hawaii. I was scared and apprehensive seeing as I would be spending a week with people I really didn't know, who now knew all about me and what I was going through, in a very different place. They didn't tell me much, I didn't know who bought my plane ticket or how it had all gotten so set up. But I couldn't say no, they were doing a very kind thing for me and I really did need to get out of where I was. So two weeks later I'm on a flight to Lihue. I quickly learned why they insisted I go and why they had kept me in the dark. The girl I was staying with was a nutritionist and studying natural/holistic healing. She never forced anything on me yet at the same time was very blunt with me. At the end of my week I was eating healthily and very happy. On my 7th day, while sitting on the most beautiful beach I had ever seen in Kekaha, she turned to me and said, "Why don't you just stay here? You hate that place and we love having you. You've made too much progress to just go back to your old routine." I contemplated for a bit. This would mean dropping out of my continuation high school and leaving all my friends to live this island life. Nothing could have sounded better. So I called my mother that night and told her I was staying and how happy I was. She told me she had seen this coming and let me stay. I got a job, a dog, and was living in an odd little apartment that was built into a warehouse in the ghetto of Kauai. I met amazing people and saw mind blowing places everyday. My weight was the last thing on my mind. I was truly happy. However I had never had so many nightmares in my life. Every night was a variation of the same thing: waking up back in California, next to a man who had destroyed my life. One dream in particular stood out from the rest. In my dream I was running after my ex for reasons unknown. As we ran he would morph into a pig and I would lose sight of him. When he reappeared I could catch up. Finally after what felt like forever we stood facing each other at the top of a hill that overlooked my home town. He was astonishingly beautiful, just breath taking. We looked at each other in silence for a while before I remembered that he had been morphing into a pig. I blinked and when I opened my eyes, he had the head of a pig. I was confused and horrified. I said to him, "Wait a minute, you're a pig. How could I have seen you the way I did?" I abruptly woke, tried to make sense of the dream for a moment and fell back asleep. The next day while on break at work, I was listening to some of the restaurant owners relatives talk about their favorite Hawaiian mythology. One of the women, a large jolly Hawaiian native told a story about Pele, the Hawaiian volcano goddess. In this particular story a god, in love with Pele approached her and attempted to make her his wife. The other women around Pele were intoxicated by his beauty. Pele, confused, looked at them and said "Look at him, he is a pig and nothing but the son of a pig". When the women looked back he too had the head of a pig. I was amazed and shocked at the similarities between the story and the dream I had had the night before. I still have trouble when telling people, my mom thought I was making it up as did most people I told. I never had another nightmare the rest of my 4 month stay in Kauai. Now, back in California, I dream of the island almost every night even though I have been back for over a year. I miss the Island desperately. I guess I've never really written it all down before. Sorry if it's hard to follow.
TL;DR- Sent to Kauai to recover from an eating disorder, had a mind blowing Mythological dream and expierience. Still don't know what to make of it. | When I was 17 and suffering (dying) from a very accelerated eating disorder also fresh out of a very abusive relationship, my family really didn't know how to help me. My brothers best friend suggested I stay with his sister and her husband over spring break in their apartment in Kauai, Hawaii. I was scared and apprehensive seeing as I would be spending a week with people I really didn't know, who now knew all about me and what I was going through, in a very different place. They didn't tell me much, I didn't know who bought my plane ticket or how it had all gotten so set up. But I couldn't say no, they were doing a very kind thing for me and I really did need to get out of where I was. So two weeks later I'm on a flight to Lihue. I quickly learned why they insisted I go and why they had kept me in the dark. The girl I was staying with was a nutritionist and studying natural/holistic healing. She never forced anything on me yet at the same time was very blunt with me. At the end of my week I was eating healthily and very happy. On my 7th day, while sitting on the most beautiful beach I had ever seen in Kekaha, she turned to me and said, "Why don't you just stay here? You hate that place and we love having you. You've made too much progress to just go back to your old routine." I contemplated for a bit. This would mean dropping out of my continuation high school and leaving all my friends to live this island life. Nothing could have sounded better. So I called my mother that night and told her I was staying and how happy I was. She told me she had seen this coming and let me stay. I got a job, a dog, and was living in an odd little apartment that was built into a warehouse in the ghetto of Kauai. I met amazing people and saw mind blowing places everyday. My weight was the last thing on my mind. I was truly happy. However I had never had so many nightmares in my life. Every night was a variation of the same thing: waking up back in California, next to a man who had destroyed my life. One dream in particular stood out from the rest. In my dream I was running after my ex for reasons unknown. As we ran he would morph into a pig and I would lose sight of him. When he reappeared I could catch up. Finally after what felt like forever we stood facing each other at the top of a hill that overlooked my home town. He was astonishingly beautiful, just breath taking. We looked at each other in silence for a while before I remembered that he had been morphing into a pig. I blinked and when I opened my eyes, he had the head of a pig. I was confused and horrified. I said to him, "Wait a minute, you're a pig. How could I have seen you the way I did?" I abruptly woke, tried to make sense of the dream for a moment and fell back asleep. The next day while on break at work, I was listening to some of the restaurant owners relatives talk about their favorite Hawaiian mythology. One of the women, a large jolly Hawaiian native told a story about Pele, the Hawaiian volcano goddess. In this particular story a god, in love with Pele approached her and attempted to make her his wife. The other women around Pele were intoxicated by his beauty. Pele, confused, looked at them and said "Look at him, he is a pig and nothing but the son of a pig". When the women looked back he too had the head of a pig. I was amazed and shocked at the similarities between the story and the dream I had had the night before. I still have trouble when telling people, my mom thought I was making it up as did most people I told. I never had another nightmare the rest of my 4 month stay in Kauai. Now, back in California, I dream of the island almost every night even though I have been back for over a year. I miss the Island desperately. I guess I've never really written it all down before. Sorry if it's hard to follow.
TL;DR- Sent to Kauai to recover from an eating disorder, had a mind blowing Mythological dream and expierience. Still don't know what to make of it.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc983xe | When I was 17 and suffering (dying) from a very accelerated eating disorder also fresh out of a very abusive relationship, my family really didn't know how to help me. My brothers best friend suggested I stay with his sister and her husband over spring break in their apartment in Kauai, Hawaii. I was scared and apprehensive seeing as I would be spending a week with people I really didn't know, who now knew all about me and what I was going through, in a very different place. They didn't tell me much, I didn't know who bought my plane ticket or how it had all gotten so set up. But I couldn't say no, they were doing a very kind thing for me and I really did need to get out of where I was. So two weeks later I'm on a flight to Lihue. I quickly learned why they insisted I go and why they had kept me in the dark. The girl I was staying with was a nutritionist and studying natural/holistic healing. She never forced anything on me yet at the same time was very blunt with me. At the end of my week I was eating healthily and very happy. On my 7th day, while sitting on the most beautiful beach I had ever seen in Kekaha, she turned to me and said, "Why don't you just stay here? You hate that place and we love having you. You've made too much progress to just go back to your old routine." I contemplated for a bit. This would mean dropping out of my continuation high school and leaving all my friends to live this island life. Nothing could have sounded better. So I called my mother that night and told her I was staying and how happy I was. She told me she had seen this coming and let me stay. I got a job, a dog, and was living in an odd little apartment that was built into a warehouse in the ghetto of Kauai. I met amazing people and saw mind blowing places everyday. My weight was the last thing on my mind. I was truly happy. However I had never had so many nightmares in my life. Every night was a variation of the same thing: waking up back in California, next to a man who had destroyed my life. One dream in particular stood out from the rest. In my dream I was running after my ex for reasons unknown. As we ran he would morph into a pig and I would lose sight of him. When he reappeared I could catch up. Finally after what felt like forever we stood facing each other at the top of a hill that overlooked my home town. He was astonishingly beautiful, just breath taking. We looked at each other in silence for a while before I remembered that he had been morphing into a pig. I blinked and when I opened my eyes, he had the head of a pig. I was confused and horrified. I said to him, "Wait a minute, you're a pig. How could I have seen you the way I did?" I abruptly woke, tried to make sense of the dream for a moment and fell back asleep. The next day while on break at work, I was listening to some of the restaurant owners relatives talk about their favorite Hawaiian mythology. One of the women, a large jolly Hawaiian native told a story about Pele, the Hawaiian volcano goddess. In this particular story a god, in love with Pele approached her and attempted to make her his wife. The other women around Pele were intoxicated by his beauty. Pele, confused, looked at them and said "Look at him, he is a pig and nothing but the son of a pig". When the women looked back he too had the head of a pig. I was amazed and shocked at the similarities between the story and the dream I had had the night before. I still have trouble when telling people, my mom thought I was making it up as did most people I told. I never had another nightmare the rest of my 4 month stay in Kauai. Now, back in California, I dream of the island almost every night even though I have been back for over a year. I miss the Island desperately. I guess I've never really written it all down before. Sorry if it's hard to follow. | Sent to Kauai to recover from an eating disorder, had a mind blowing Mythological dream and expierience. Still don't know what to make of it. |
ArmandoG | So this is my first time ever posting on Reddit. Thought I'd share a pretty heroic story of my awesome parents.
A little bit of background:
My family is from a small country in Europe, Albania, in the Southeastern Bulkan area. It's population is roughly 3 million people. During the late 1980s, Albania was under heavy communist influence. And this was communism at its full potential. Waiting in lines for food, everyone having one set of clothes, etc. My mom belonged to a family of 9 other children, grew up on a farm. Super poor. My dad pretty much under the same circumstances, but his brother (my uncle) was Chief of Economics for Albania.
My mom was from a different town than my dad. My dad was the baby of the family - super nice guy. Apparently, my dad's family didn't like my mother too much. Time to time, they'd get physical with her - showing that they didn't like her. My dad was a super badass who was in the military for 4 years, top of his class.
Anyways, my dad was sick of it, and so was my mom. Sick of this communistic bull shit, sick of my mother getting mistreated by my dad's family. That being said, they wanted to get the fuck out. The only thing is, you weren't allowed to leave the country unless you had permission (had to be a good reason, not just "I want to leave").
My parents packed a very small amount of things, didn't tell anyone where they were going. Wrapped my baby brother (he was almost a year old) in a blanket and headed out. The thing about Albania is that it's very mountainous. So you had to go through big ass mountains to get out. They traveled through mountains to get past the border, with my baby brother wrapped in a blanket, maybe some some water and very little food.
The border was heavily patrolled by guards with weapons. As they neared the border to leave, if my brother cried at any time, they were history. Thankfully enough my brother manned up and kept quiet. They escaped to a nearby country, at the time, Yugoslavia (I believe). A kind family took them in, contacted the U.S. (U.S. is obviously strongly against communism). The United States hooked them up with papers and a free plane ride to America.
Here I am now, 20 years old (born in the US), studying at Michigan State University for a BS in Chemical Engineering. My brother is also almost done with his degree. If it wasn't for their sacrifice, I would've never been here. Every day I think about how loving, caring and how BADASS my parents are. Can't wait to make it into my career and have my parents stop working their asses off so they can finally relax.
TL;DR- Parents escaped a communist country, could've gotten shot and killed, and now we're in the US happy as ever :) | So this is my first time ever posting on Reddit. Thought I'd share a pretty heroic story of my awesome parents.
A little bit of background:
My family is from a small country in Europe, Albania, in the Southeastern Bulkan area. It's population is roughly 3 million people. During the late 1980s, Albania was under heavy communist influence. And this was communism at its full potential. Waiting in lines for food, everyone having one set of clothes, etc. My mom belonged to a family of 9 other children, grew up on a farm. Super poor. My dad pretty much under the same circumstances, but his brother (my uncle) was Chief of Economics for Albania.
My mom was from a different town than my dad. My dad was the baby of the family - super nice guy. Apparently, my dad's family didn't like my mother too much. Time to time, they'd get physical with her - showing that they didn't like her. My dad was a super badass who was in the military for 4 years, top of his class.
Anyways, my dad was sick of it, and so was my mom. Sick of this communistic bull shit, sick of my mother getting mistreated by my dad's family. That being said, they wanted to get the fuck out. The only thing is, you weren't allowed to leave the country unless you had permission (had to be a good reason, not just "I want to leave").
My parents packed a very small amount of things, didn't tell anyone where they were going. Wrapped my baby brother (he was almost a year old) in a blanket and headed out. The thing about Albania is that it's very mountainous. So you had to go through big ass mountains to get out. They traveled through mountains to get past the border, with my baby brother wrapped in a blanket, maybe some some water and very little food.
The border was heavily patrolled by guards with weapons. As they neared the border to leave, if my brother cried at any time, they were history. Thankfully enough my brother manned up and kept quiet. They escaped to a nearby country, at the time, Yugoslavia (I believe). A kind family took them in, contacted the U.S. (U.S. is obviously strongly against communism). The United States hooked them up with papers and a free plane ride to America.
Here I am now, 20 years old (born in the US), studying at Michigan State University for a BS in Chemical Engineering. My brother is also almost done with his degree. If it wasn't for their sacrifice, I would've never been here. Every day I think about how loving, caring and how BADASS my parents are. Can't wait to make it into my career and have my parents stop working their asses off so they can finally relax.
TL;DR- Parents escaped a communist country, could've gotten shot and killed, and now we're in the US happy as ever :)
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc989ng | So this is my first time ever posting on Reddit. Thought I'd share a pretty heroic story of my awesome parents.
A little bit of background:
My family is from a small country in Europe, Albania, in the Southeastern Bulkan area. It's population is roughly 3 million people. During the late 1980s, Albania was under heavy communist influence. And this was communism at its full potential. Waiting in lines for food, everyone having one set of clothes, etc. My mom belonged to a family of 9 other children, grew up on a farm. Super poor. My dad pretty much under the same circumstances, but his brother (my uncle) was Chief of Economics for Albania.
My mom was from a different town than my dad. My dad was the baby of the family - super nice guy. Apparently, my dad's family didn't like my mother too much. Time to time, they'd get physical with her - showing that they didn't like her. My dad was a super badass who was in the military for 4 years, top of his class.
Anyways, my dad was sick of it, and so was my mom. Sick of this communistic bull shit, sick of my mother getting mistreated by my dad's family. That being said, they wanted to get the fuck out. The only thing is, you weren't allowed to leave the country unless you had permission (had to be a good reason, not just "I want to leave").
My parents packed a very small amount of things, didn't tell anyone where they were going. Wrapped my baby brother (he was almost a year old) in a blanket and headed out. The thing about Albania is that it's very mountainous. So you had to go through big ass mountains to get out. They traveled through mountains to get past the border, with my baby brother wrapped in a blanket, maybe some some water and very little food.
The border was heavily patrolled by guards with weapons. As they neared the border to leave, if my brother cried at any time, they were history. Thankfully enough my brother manned up and kept quiet. They escaped to a nearby country, at the time, Yugoslavia (I believe). A kind family took them in, contacted the U.S. (U.S. is obviously strongly against communism). The United States hooked them up with papers and a free plane ride to America.
Here I am now, 20 years old (born in the US), studying at Michigan State University for a BS in Chemical Engineering. My brother is also almost done with his degree. If it wasn't for their sacrifice, I would've never been here. Every day I think about how loving, caring and how BADASS my parents are. Can't wait to make it into my career and have my parents stop working their asses off so they can finally relax. | Parents escaped a communist country, could've gotten shot and killed, and now we're in the US happy as ever :) |
smallandwise | I too was a ski instructor once. Had a little girl bawling her eyes out, so I tried to find out what was wrong... Turns out we were not calling her by the name she preferred AND she was not wearing the socks she wanted. Fixed her name tag, switched her socks and she was the happiest kid in my class for the rest of the day.
TL;DR Kids are so weird | I too was a ski instructor once. Had a little girl bawling her eyes out, so I tried to find out what was wrong... Turns out we were not calling her by the name she preferred AND she was not wearing the socks she wanted. Fixed her name tag, switched her socks and she was the happiest kid in my class for the rest of the day.
TL;DR Kids are so weird
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc98ell | I too was a ski instructor once. Had a little girl bawling her eyes out, so I tried to find out what was wrong... Turns out we were not calling her by the name she preferred AND she was not wearing the socks she wanted. Fixed her name tag, switched her socks and she was the happiest kid in my class for the rest of the day. | Kids are so weird |
josueespinosa | Funniest thing that has ever happened in my life. My dad just discovered these therapeutic rocks that you use to heat your body and relax it. I tried it on my feet because they were cold and i fell asleep on with the rock on my feet. Keep in mind it was a flat rock and was about a foot in diameter. so the next morning i felt lazy and made my bed over the rock without moving it because it was heavy for me(i was about 10). My friend came over wearing a beanie since it was winter and it was cold (thus the rock on my feet). Anyways the tosses it on my bed and we hangout for a couple hours. When he is getting ready to leave, he dives headfirst onto my bed and hits his head directly on the rock. Being confused and pissed, he yells what do you have in your bed, rocks?!? He lifts the cover and finds exactly that. The look on his face, the pure what-in-the-fuck look was so priceless i nearly shit my pants. Never laughed so hard in my entire life, and nothing will ever compare.
tl;dr: friend got fucked by rock | Funniest thing that has ever happened in my life. My dad just discovered these therapeutic rocks that you use to heat your body and relax it. I tried it on my feet because they were cold and i fell asleep on with the rock on my feet. Keep in mind it was a flat rock and was about a foot in diameter. so the next morning i felt lazy and made my bed over the rock without moving it because it was heavy for me(i was about 10). My friend came over wearing a beanie since it was winter and it was cold (thus the rock on my feet). Anyways the tosses it on my bed and we hangout for a couple hours. When he is getting ready to leave, he dives headfirst onto my bed and hits his head directly on the rock. Being confused and pissed, he yells what do you have in your bed, rocks?!? He lifts the cover and finds exactly that. The look on his face, the pure what-in-the-fuck look was so priceless i nearly shit my pants. Never laughed so hard in my entire life, and nothing will ever compare.
tl;dr: friend got fucked by rock
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc98ev3 | Funniest thing that has ever happened in my life. My dad just discovered these therapeutic rocks that you use to heat your body and relax it. I tried it on my feet because they were cold and i fell asleep on with the rock on my feet. Keep in mind it was a flat rock and was about a foot in diameter. so the next morning i felt lazy and made my bed over the rock without moving it because it was heavy for me(i was about 10). My friend came over wearing a beanie since it was winter and it was cold (thus the rock on my feet). Anyways the tosses it on my bed and we hangout for a couple hours. When he is getting ready to leave, he dives headfirst onto my bed and hits his head directly on the rock. Being confused and pissed, he yells what do you have in your bed, rocks?!? He lifts the cover and finds exactly that. The look on his face, the pure what-in-the-fuck look was so priceless i nearly shit my pants. Never laughed so hard in my entire life, and nothing will ever compare. | friend got fucked by rock |
Mathemagics | Super late to this party, and this post will probably get buried, but I really want to tell this story. I have never been good at math. Numbers just don't click in my head, and I was never able to conceptualize abstract mathematics either. I appreciate and respect math, but we don't get along. That being said, I'm a really good student who graduated high school with a 3.9 and college with a 3.3. I'd consider myself of above average intelligence, and I currently have a good-paying, full time job. That being said...
1st semester my Freshman year of college I had to take Finite Math as part of a general ed requirement for my Liberal Arts degree. The class was from 5:45pm-7:30pm Tuesdays/Thursdays. First night of class, I was walking out of my dormitory, and I spot a guy leaving who happens to be on my dorm floor. Turns out, he and I are in the exact same class. As we're walking to class, I half-jokingly bring up the idea of drinking before our next class on Thursday. He laughs and says that he would be down if I was. So we agree to the brilliant idea of "pregaming" (aka, drink a shit ton) before our Thursday class that week. We do...it's awesome, frivolity ensues, and we bond. We end up making heavy inebriation a pre-class Thursday ritual, and at the same time, we started to just blow off Tuesday classes. It's just not the same when you're sober, ya know? I am not exaggerating...75% of the time, we either skipped or went to that class intoxicated.
Fast forward to the Final Exam. I decide it'd be a good idea to to a hit of ecstasy before my finals. I roll (pun intended) up into my Finite final high as shit on X, and start to do my Final. I come to the ecstasy-fueled realization that I don't know this shit, and I'm going to need a calculator to answer these questions. Calculators are strictly prohibited on the Finite final exam. Don't ask me the logic of that, but that's just how it is. I say fuck it, and in my ecstatic frame of mind I declare to myself that I can either choose to fail this test because I don't know how to do the work, or I can fail it by having the balls to pull out my calculator and then get discovered, creating a crash and burn situation. I sack up and choose option two. I ended up getting a B in that class. My friend got a C+, and we are currently still best friends several years later post-college. Also, I don't do hard drugs anymore and drink responsibly on some weekends.
TL;DR: Went drunk to college Finite Math class a majority of the time, cheated while rolling on X during the Final, passed with a B.
| Super late to this party, and this post will probably get buried, but I really want to tell this story. I have never been good at math. Numbers just don't click in my head, and I was never able to conceptualize abstract mathematics either. I appreciate and respect math, but we don't get along. That being said, I'm a really good student who graduated high school with a 3.9 and college with a 3.3. I'd consider myself of above average intelligence, and I currently have a good-paying, full time job. That being said...
1st semester my Freshman year of college I had to take Finite Math as part of a general ed requirement for my Liberal Arts degree. The class was from 5:45pm-7:30pm Tuesdays/Thursdays. First night of class, I was walking out of my dormitory, and I spot a guy leaving who happens to be on my dorm floor. Turns out, he and I are in the exact same class. As we're walking to class, I half-jokingly bring up the idea of drinking before our next class on Thursday. He laughs and says that he would be down if I was. So we agree to the brilliant idea of "pregaming" (aka, drink a shit ton) before our Thursday class that week. We do...it's awesome, frivolity ensues, and we bond. We end up making heavy inebriation a pre-class Thursday ritual, and at the same time, we started to just blow off Tuesday classes. It's just not the same when you're sober, ya know? I am not exaggerating...75% of the time, we either skipped or went to that class intoxicated.
Fast forward to the Final Exam. I decide it'd be a good idea to to a hit of ecstasy before my finals. I roll (pun intended) up into my Finite final high as shit on X, and start to do my Final. I come to the ecstasy-fueled realization that I don't know this shit, and I'm going to need a calculator to answer these questions. Calculators are strictly prohibited on the Finite final exam. Don't ask me the logic of that, but that's just how it is. I say fuck it, and in my ecstatic frame of mind I declare to myself that I can either choose to fail this test because I don't know how to do the work, or I can fail it by having the balls to pull out my calculator and then get discovered, creating a crash and burn situation. I sack up and choose option two. I ended up getting a B in that class. My friend got a C+, and we are currently still best friends several years later post-college. Also, I don't do hard drugs anymore and drink responsibly on some weekends.
TL;DR: Went drunk to college Finite Math class a majority of the time, cheated while rolling on X during the Final, passed with a B.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc98gi4 | Super late to this party, and this post will probably get buried, but I really want to tell this story. I have never been good at math. Numbers just don't click in my head, and I was never able to conceptualize abstract mathematics either. I appreciate and respect math, but we don't get along. That being said, I'm a really good student who graduated high school with a 3.9 and college with a 3.3. I'd consider myself of above average intelligence, and I currently have a good-paying, full time job. That being said...
1st semester my Freshman year of college I had to take Finite Math as part of a general ed requirement for my Liberal Arts degree. The class was from 5:45pm-7:30pm Tuesdays/Thursdays. First night of class, I was walking out of my dormitory, and I spot a guy leaving who happens to be on my dorm floor. Turns out, he and I are in the exact same class. As we're walking to class, I half-jokingly bring up the idea of drinking before our next class on Thursday. He laughs and says that he would be down if I was. So we agree to the brilliant idea of "pregaming" (aka, drink a shit ton) before our Thursday class that week. We do...it's awesome, frivolity ensues, and we bond. We end up making heavy inebriation a pre-class Thursday ritual, and at the same time, we started to just blow off Tuesday classes. It's just not the same when you're sober, ya know? I am not exaggerating...75% of the time, we either skipped or went to that class intoxicated.
Fast forward to the Final Exam. I decide it'd be a good idea to to a hit of ecstasy before my finals. I roll (pun intended) up into my Finite final high as shit on X, and start to do my Final. I come to the ecstasy-fueled realization that I don't know this shit, and I'm going to need a calculator to answer these questions. Calculators are strictly prohibited on the Finite final exam. Don't ask me the logic of that, but that's just how it is. I say fuck it, and in my ecstatic frame of mind I declare to myself that I can either choose to fail this test because I don't know how to do the work, or I can fail it by having the balls to pull out my calculator and then get discovered, creating a crash and burn situation. I sack up and choose option two. I ended up getting a B in that class. My friend got a C+, and we are currently still best friends several years later post-college. Also, I don't do hard drugs anymore and drink responsibly on some weekends. | Went drunk to college Finite Math class a majority of the time, cheated while rolling on X during the Final, passed with a B. |
Cardsfan1539 | In 3rd Grade a kid moved into my town and started going to my school. We instantly connected because of our mutual love of Professional Wrestling. We were the only ones who were even remotely interested in it so we became instantly best friends. We started up our own wrestling organization, gave each other awesome names, and acted out our matches and story lines.
We hit 5th Grade and had this old woman for a teacher, whose name I don't even remember. That was the year my school really stressed writing and grammar, so she would have the class spend the 30 minutes after we came in from recces writing whatever we wanted in journals. Because my friend and I were so excited from acting out our wrestling, we started writing out our matches. Everyone else would write MAYBE a page, but my friend and I could crank out 5 to 8 pages a day. Not bad for hyper kids coming off recces.
She then started checking to see that we actually were writing. Despite doing 5 to 8 times as much writing as everyone else, we were scolded about not doing the work correctly or taking it seriously. We both told told her that she said we could write about whatever we wanted to, and if we were writing, what was the harm? She gave us both detention and called our parents.
**TL;DR**: Friend and I get in trouble for doing 5x as much work as the rest of the class. | In 3rd Grade a kid moved into my town and started going to my school. We instantly connected because of our mutual love of Professional Wrestling. We were the only ones who were even remotely interested in it so we became instantly best friends. We started up our own wrestling organization, gave each other awesome names, and acted out our matches and story lines.
We hit 5th Grade and had this old woman for a teacher, whose name I don't even remember. That was the year my school really stressed writing and grammar, so she would have the class spend the 30 minutes after we came in from recces writing whatever we wanted in journals. Because my friend and I were so excited from acting out our wrestling, we started writing out our matches. Everyone else would write MAYBE a page, but my friend and I could crank out 5 to 8 pages a day. Not bad for hyper kids coming off recces.
She then started checking to see that we actually were writing. Despite doing 5 to 8 times as much writing as everyone else, we were scolded about not doing the work correctly or taking it seriously. We both told told her that she said we could write about whatever we wanted to, and if we were writing, what was the harm? She gave us both detention and called our parents.
TL;DR : Friend and I get in trouble for doing 5x as much work as the rest of the class.
| AskReddit | t5_2qh1i | cc98gm6 | In 3rd Grade a kid moved into my town and started going to my school. We instantly connected because of our mutual love of Professional Wrestling. We were the only ones who were even remotely interested in it so we became instantly best friends. We started up our own wrestling organization, gave each other awesome names, and acted out our matches and story lines.
We hit 5th Grade and had this old woman for a teacher, whose name I don't even remember. That was the year my school really stressed writing and grammar, so she would have the class spend the 30 minutes after we came in from recces writing whatever we wanted in journals. Because my friend and I were so excited from acting out our wrestling, we started writing out our matches. Everyone else would write MAYBE a page, but my friend and I could crank out 5 to 8 pages a day. Not bad for hyper kids coming off recces.
She then started checking to see that we actually were writing. Despite doing 5 to 8 times as much writing as everyone else, we were scolded about not doing the work correctly or taking it seriously. We both told told her that she said we could write about whatever we wanted to, and if we were writing, what was the harm? She gave us both detention and called our parents. | Friend and I get in trouble for doing 5x as much work as the rest of the class. |
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