This happened in the second year of my (unwise) computing degree.
First of all I have to explain what life was like at this particular computing uni. Almost everyone there was completely socially stunted, the ratio of girls to guys was about 1 in 6 and even if it was higher most of the guys wouldn't know where to hide a wang.
Anyway I hung around with the same 3 guys for all of the first and most of the second year. At this time I had my own flat and was living with my (now ex) girlfriend so I couldn't live with them in their new house share.
What they did was replace me with an unknown entity. This new kid lived right opposite the uni with his parents in a small housing estate before he started studying there, his interest was in networking computers together in his house. He had about 6 hooked up in his room for no reason that I can comprehend (something uncomfortable about all that effort for no quantifiable reward).
Anyway this guy was skinny as a rake, short and had the looks of a typical, stereotypical nerd. He kept himself to himself but I thought he was a perfectly normal guy, skip forward a few months when they are all settled in and decide to throw a house party:
All is going well, the house is packed full of people and this guy is getting the kind of social and alcoholic exposure that he's never experienced before, people kept giving him drinks as a kind of novelty I guess (lets get the non-drinker drunk).
It's about 1am and everyone is having a good time and getting pretty buzzed when we hear shouting and banging going on upstairs behind this kid's (now closed) room door. We walk up there (me and the 3 friends, one of which is the landlords son) we try the door and ask what's going on but the door won't budge, we just think a bunch of people are fucking around inside as it sounded like there were quite a few of them in there.
The shouting inside the room gets louder and we can see the handle being tried from the inside with no effect. This very odd stand-off lasts for about 5 minutes before the landlord's son is getting worried and decides to rectify the situation.
He kicks the door over and over again until it buckles and splinters where his foot goes through, the door gets immediately pulled inwards and about 10 guys looking like this o_O come pouring out.
Turns out the guy completely off his face invited a whole bunch of people in to his room, retrieved a shoe box from under his bed and then wedged himself between the door and the bed frame. The box contained various cutouts of some of the most graphic, gothic porn you have ever seen, carefully organised and presented. He apparently was in a totally crazed state and wanted to share is collection, very passionately, with the rest of the guys in the room. He would NOT let them leave.
After a total what the fuck? moment we are left completely confused and the guy doesn't come out of his room (now with only half a door) for the rest of the night. In the morning he is totally normal again and offers to pay of the door having no recollection of what happened.
I never treated him quite the same again
Social virgin shares passion with unwilling strangers at party.
Sharing one's tasteful etchings can indeed be an experience
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YamiNoSenshiA point called ZIn the complex planeRegistered Userregular
edited May 2009
I like how these treads just seem to develop a theme, no matter how odd. Sometimes it's driving mishaps, sometimes work issues, sometimes poop.... a lot of time poop. Today's theme is BEES!
I like how these treads just seem to develop a theme, no matter how odd. Sometimes it's driving mishaps, sometimes work issues, sometimes poop.... a lot of time poop. Today's theme is BEES!
I like how these treads just seem to develop a theme, no matter how odd. Sometimes it's driving mishaps, sometimes work issues, sometimes poop.... a lot of time poop. Today's theme is BEES!
At about 11 or 12 years old (possibly 12, 'cause I'm pretty sure my drunk uncle got me to drink until drunk with him when I was 12, and this happened after that...anyways), a couple of buddies of mine down the block from my grandmother were playing around in the field next to her house. I go out and kick it with them under this gargantuan weeping willow tree. We ended up playing imaginary GI Joe or Battle of the Planets or some shit like that and I had this huge stick I was using as a sword to beat the other kids with. Anyways, a few flies were buzzing around the area and we started swinging on them... Turns out they weren't flies at all (they were black like flies... must be flies!)... They were wasps. We didn't know that until one of them stung me...
... dead in my chest over my heart.
The pain was so fuckin intense I started yelling immediately. Then I stopped yelling to run to the house, only to start yelling again. My breathing went into overdrive and I thought I was having a heart attack from the combination of pain and my breathing. It was so bad I could barely run, so one of my friends ran and got my grandmother and uncle to get me as I staggered to the house. They laid me on the couch, called Poison Control, then called my mother fearing I had an allergy to bee stings (we still didn't know it was a wasp). Moms got to the house like lightning (we lived 30 min away, I swear she was there in 10min). A Dr came out to assess that I wasn't having a reaction to any venom that may have gotten into me and that I was hyperventilating from the intense pain from being stung right on my breastplate. The Doc went to the field and found out that it was a wasp and that I should be fine.
To this day, almost 25 years later, I have NEVER gone back under that tree.
So me and my brother would play tag, especially around different houses, and I had this thing where I would always keep one hand touching a wall. I liked the feel of it sliding past my fingers, especially at a full run.
So my brother is chasing me, as per usual, and I'm running down the side of this house when I feel my hand close on a big wad of paper- no big deal, I throw it to the ground and keep running. I reach the corner of the house and whip around it (the 'handbrake' turn my running style allowed) and expected my brother to come running past in short order. And so he does, screaming. Right past me, over the short hedge, across the street, yelling and eventually crying.
This is not really how the game is played, and as you've probably guessed, the wad was a gigantic wasp nest, which decided, most likely after being tossed and stepped on, that my brother was their antichrist. The swarm followed him for god knows how long, stinging him all the way. All I really remember after was my mom dressing his wounds with him buck-nekkid in the living room, stung everywhere, and I mean everywhere, he had a bite for every inch or two of skin.
He got a half-lecture on leaving wasps alone (don't worry ma, i think he 'learned his lesson') and is to this day terrified of them. I never admitted fault, as to avoid the beating, and I still feel a bit bad when I think about it. Not too bad, he was kind of a jerk when he was younger, but still, bad.
Oh good Jesus. Did you ever have those crappy crayons as a kid that every now and again would have some hard lump of something in them? And you've be happily scribbling away and then SKRRRT and it would go right down your spine and urrrrrggggh
How exactly are all these flying, stinging insect stories strange and embarrasing?
I want to hear the story were someone gets stung and then gets butt naked in front of everyone at their family reunion... or something. That would be epic and S&E.
mystikspyral on
"When life gives you lemons, just say 'Fuck the lemons,' and bail" :rotate:
How exactly are all these flying, stinging insect stories strange and embarrasing?
I want to hear the story were someone gets stung and then gets butt naked in front of everyone at their family reunion... or something. That would be epic and S&E.
if you told me that your boyfriend did this i wouldn't even do a double-take.
How exactly are all these flying, stinging insect stories strange and embarrasing?
I want to hear the story were someone gets stung and then gets butt naked in front of everyone at their family reunion... or something. That would be epic and S&E.
if you told me that your boyfriend did this i wouldn't even do a double-take.
Only if you were there, otherwise it wouldn't be complete! 8-)
mystikspyral on
"When life gives you lemons, just say 'Fuck the lemons,' and bail" :rotate:
The "lisp" story reminded me of a tale where I almost died in the car of my boss.
My boss at the time was this Turkish guy. So, we go to lunch, all piling in his car. We have our food, we all pile back in his car and hit the road. We reach this intersection that is a two-way stop with the main thoroughfare not having to stop. We need to turn left. Unfortunately, this intersection has some really old and overgrown shrubbery, so it's hard to see right. I'm in the front passenger seat and, as chance would have it, have a clearer view of the traffic coming from the right than the driver. So, he asks if I see any cars coming and I look and I see a bus coming, so I say, "Bus."
Well, apparently, in Turkish, "bus" means "go". So I was basically saying (not that I would know it), "Go ahead." So he starts to drive forward, which greatly confuses me. So, I start saying "Bus" more urgently and louder, which to him only sounds like "GO GO GO!" So, he speeds up. I continue shouting and he finally realises that I'm not Turkish and then slams on the break as the bus flies past the front of our car.
It's not that far-fetched. When people yell at me when I'm driving, I go in super frantic mode. If you yell at a driver, you best be indicating urgency because that's what it fucking means.
And I have some friends that could stand to learn that lesson.
More of a strange string of moments... Years ago, I was coming back from lunch with a coworker and we saw a minor traffic accident at the first intersection about two cars in front of us, we navigate around the fenderbender and make it to the next intersection to see a more spectacular crash happen where a corvette ran the red and tboned a SUV, obliterating the front of the vette and the side of the SUV and flinging the SUV into a streelight. We eventually make our way around the mess and given our previous 2 intersections, were somewhat concerned when it was just us an the armored truck at our last intersection before we made it back to work, hoping that we dont see a third collision. That same day after work, we are wating for the light to turn green, and so it does, and I don't move.
A couple seconds pass and my coworker (the same one from lunch carpooling with me home) says "Aren't you going to go?". I immediately reply with "No", and immediately after I said that, a big black SUV I did not see runs the red on my left perpendicular to us, and most likely would have nailed my car.
He was never impatient with me and green lights again.
How exactly are all these flying, stinging insect stories strange and embarrasing?
Yes, it is almost as if these stories belong in a thread that was devoted to the disturbing or terrifying...
O god totp...
You want strange and embarrassing with bugs? Fine. Shit just happened to me.
I got out of work late tonight... 1115pm. I work at a grocery store. Behind the store is a bar. Across the street is a gas station. This is all important.
I leave work, and need to get gas. Pull into the gas station, open the gas cover, and unlock the locking gas cap. My hand brushed against the inside of the flap, and I go "huh... that doesn't feel like metal."
There's a fucking yellow jacket right there, just touched my hand.
I jump away and scream like a little girl. The yellow jacket is just hanging out there, taking the occasional step, but doing nothing else. And I shout like a moron!
I get in my car, grab a paper towel, wad it up real good, and kill the bastard. Then I notice the blue lights.
Yea... cops hang out there waiting for drunks coming out of the bar. Drunks coming out of the bar come off the same access road that my grocery store is on. Here I am, running like a baby from a bee, and he thinks I'm drunk. When I showed him the dead bug on the ground, he looked at me and just laughed.
On the good side, at least it was at night. During the day, I'm sure it would have been pissed and stung me.
So, um... All this bug talk has me wanting to share one that's happening right now.
I've had a sort of phobia of spiders, daddy long legs to be exact, that I know for a fact stems from a weeklong trip to Lost Valley (aka "Fucking Daddy Long Leg Jamboree") with the Scouts when I was a youngling. I've been getting better at it, and moved on from outright fear to misplaced aggression to a more laconic understanding. The way I'm seeing it, if I'm not squeamish enough to jump out of my chair and hunt it down instantly, I must be better at tolerating it, right?
Okay, so I'm at my desk and I see a spider creeping along in the corner between the ceiling and the wall. "Spider," I says to it I says, "You can stay up there for a bit, but if you're still in this room by the time I go to bed, I'm coming after you." The spider says nothing.
That was ten minutes ago. I just looked up, and the spider is gone. My door's shut, so it didn't get out that way. WHERE THE HELL IS THE SPIDER!?
I'm not going to get any sleep tonight, I know it.
Bursar on
GNU Terry Pratchett
PSN: Wstfgl | GamerTag: An Evil Plan | Battle.net: FallenIdle#1970
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If I heard someone franticly shouting a warning in my native language, I'd probably follow it before stopping to think about it too.
Yeah, seriously, if I'm in a car (regardless of what country I'm in) and someone tells me "go," and then starts saying "GO GO GO GO GO!," I'm probably going to go without thinking about it.
It's not that he assumed I knew Turkish. It's that he had grown up all his life hearing and speaking Turkish, so that's what his brain is hard wired to interpret. Without thinking about it, if you hear something in your native language, your brain processes it as such. When he heard me say "bus", his brains first thought was "Go!". Only later did his brain go through the much longer process of saying "Bus: that's English for giant metal thing of death. That's probably what he means."
If I heard someone franticly shouting a warning in my native language, I'd probably follow it before stopping to think about it too.
Yeah, seriously, if I'm in a car (regardless of what country I'm in) and someone tells me "go," and then starts saying "GO GO GO GO GO!," I'm probably going to go without thinking about it.
Reminds me of the time I was out with some friends in the first year of sixth form. People were just starting to get their driving licences and there were 4 of us in the car, with our smart and very reliable/law abiding friend driving.
I don't remember the specifics but when driving along a moderately busy road near the local high street my friend Jack thought it would be funny to suddenely and alarmingly yell 'GO LEFT!' and sure enough, the guy driving automatically yanks the wheel over to the left and we swerve around a bit while he straightens out.
It was incredibly stupid and highly dangerous, but there was no damage done and it was funny afterwards.
Rami on
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More of a strange string of moments... Years ago, I was coming back from lunch with a coworker and we saw a minor traffic accident at the first intersection about two cars in front of us, we navigate around the fenderbender and make it to the next intersection to see a more spectacular crash happen where a corvette ran the red and tboned a SUV, obliterating the front of the vette and the side of the SUV and flinging the SUV into a streelight. We eventually make our way around the mess and given our previous 2 intersections, were somewhat concerned when it was just us an the armored truck at our last intersection before we made it back to work, hoping that we dont see a third collision. That same day after work, we are wating for the light to turn green, and so it does, and I don't move.
A couple seconds pass and my coworker (the same one from lunch carpooling with me home) says "Aren't you going to go?". I immediately reply with "No", and immediately after I said that, a big black SUV I did not see runs the red on my left perpendicular to us, and most likely would have nailed my car.
He was never impatient with me and green lights again.
Dear BioHaz
Please send me seven randomly chosen numbers. They can be anything between, and including, 1 and 49.
Posts
Ahahahhahah!
Sharing one's tasteful etchings can indeed be an experience
True story.
It's actually derived from Latin and originally meant "make evilintent shit his pants".
I shit you my pants not.
You forgot the most important one.
At about 11 or 12 years old (possibly 12, 'cause I'm pretty sure my drunk uncle got me to drink until drunk with him when I was 12, and this happened after that...anyways), a couple of buddies of mine down the block from my grandmother were playing around in the field next to her house. I go out and kick it with them under this gargantuan weeping willow tree. We ended up playing imaginary GI Joe or Battle of the Planets or some shit like that and I had this huge stick I was using as a sword to beat the other kids with. Anyways, a few flies were buzzing around the area and we started swinging on them... Turns out they weren't flies at all (they were black like flies... must be flies!)... They were wasps. We didn't know that until one of them stung me...
... dead in my chest over my heart.
The pain was so fuckin intense I started yelling immediately. Then I stopped yelling to run to the house, only to start yelling again. My breathing went into overdrive and I thought I was having a heart attack from the combination of pain and my breathing. It was so bad I could barely run, so one of my friends ran and got my grandmother and uncle to get me as I staggered to the house. They laid me on the couch, called Poison Control, then called my mother fearing I had an allergy to bee stings (we still didn't know it was a wasp). Moms got to the house like lightning (we lived 30 min away, I swear she was there in 10min). A Dr came out to assess that I wasn't having a reaction to any venom that may have gotten into me and that I was hyperventilating from the intense pain from being stung right on my breastplate. The Doc went to the field and found out that it was a wasp and that I should be fine.
To this day, almost 25 years later, I have NEVER gone back under that tree.
So me and my brother would play tag, especially around different houses, and I had this thing where I would always keep one hand touching a wall. I liked the feel of it sliding past my fingers, especially at a full run.
So my brother is chasing me, as per usual, and I'm running down the side of this house when I feel my hand close on a big wad of paper- no big deal, I throw it to the ground and keep running. I reach the corner of the house and whip around it (the 'handbrake' turn my running style allowed) and expected my brother to come running past in short order. And so he does, screaming. Right past me, over the short hedge, across the street, yelling and eventually crying.
This is not really how the game is played, and as you've probably guessed, the wad was a gigantic wasp nest, which decided, most likely after being tossed and stepped on, that my brother was their antichrist. The swarm followed him for god knows how long, stinging him all the way. All I really remember after was my mom dressing his wounds with him buck-nekkid in the living room, stung everywhere, and I mean everywhere, he had a bite for every inch or two of skin.
He got a half-lecture on leaving wasps alone (don't worry ma, i think he 'learned his lesson') and is to this day terrified of them. I never admitted fault, as to avoid the beating, and I still feel a bit bad when I think about it. Not too bad, he was kind of a jerk when he was younger, but still, bad.
Yes.
Dear Glod, yes.
I want to hear the story were someone gets stung and then gets butt naked in front of everyone at their family reunion... or something. That would be epic and S&E.
if you told me that your boyfriend did this i wouldn't even do a double-take.
Only if you were there, otherwise it wouldn't be complete! 8-)
You could have fucking died bro.
Fucking died.
You ever think back to that day?
3DS Friend Code: 2165-6448-8348 www.Twitch.TV/cooljammer00
Battle.Net: JohnDarc#1203 Origin/UPlay: CoolJammer00
Yes, it is almost as if these stories belong in a thread that was devoted to the disturbing or terrifying...
O god totp...
Well, apparently his boss is/was an idiot.
If I heard someone franticly shouting a warning in my native language, I'd probably follow it before stopping to think about it too.
It's not that far-fetched. When people yell at me when I'm driving, I go in super frantic mode. If you yell at a driver, you best be indicating urgency because that's what it fucking means.
And I have some friends that could stand to learn that lesson.
A couple seconds pass and my coworker (the same one from lunch carpooling with me home) says "Aren't you going to go?". I immediately reply with "No", and immediately after I said that, a big black SUV I did not see runs the red on my left perpendicular to us, and most likely would have nailed my car.
He was never impatient with me and green lights again.
Picture the scene - a warm summer sunset at the busy intersection of Denny Way & 3rd Ave.
An ambulance is pulled up on the curb. Lights off, the driver is standing outside having a smoke. It's not going anywhere soon.
An empty wheelchair sits facing the crosswalk.
Which the other EMT is spraying down with anti-bacterial foam.
You want strange and embarrassing with bugs? Fine. Shit just happened to me.
I got out of work late tonight... 1115pm. I work at a grocery store. Behind the store is a bar. Across the street is a gas station. This is all important.
I leave work, and need to get gas. Pull into the gas station, open the gas cover, and unlock the locking gas cap. My hand brushed against the inside of the flap, and I go "huh... that doesn't feel like metal."
There's a fucking yellow jacket right there, just touched my hand.
I jump away and scream like a little girl. The yellow jacket is just hanging out there, taking the occasional step, but doing nothing else. And I shout like a moron!
I get in my car, grab a paper towel, wad it up real good, and kill the bastard. Then I notice the blue lights.
Yea... cops hang out there waiting for drunks coming out of the bar. Drunks coming out of the bar come off the same access road that my grocery store is on. Here I am, running like a baby from a bee, and he thinks I'm drunk. When I showed him the dead bug on the ground, he looked at me and just laughed.
On the good side, at least it was at night. During the day, I'm sure it would have been pissed and stung me.
I've had a sort of phobia of spiders, daddy long legs to be exact, that I know for a fact stems from a weeklong trip to Lost Valley (aka "Fucking Daddy Long Leg Jamboree") with the Scouts when I was a youngling. I've been getting better at it, and moved on from outright fear to misplaced aggression to a more laconic understanding. The way I'm seeing it, if I'm not squeamish enough to jump out of my chair and hunt it down instantly, I must be better at tolerating it, right?
Okay, so I'm at my desk and I see a spider creeping along in the corner between the ceiling and the wall. "Spider," I says to it I says, "You can stay up there for a bit, but if you're still in this room by the time I go to bed, I'm coming after you." The spider says nothing.
That was ten minutes ago. I just looked up, and the spider is gone. My door's shut, so it didn't get out that way. WHERE THE HELL IS THE SPIDER!?
I'm not going to get any sleep tonight, I know it.
PSN: Wstfgl | GamerTag: An Evil Plan | Battle.net: FallenIdle#1970
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Well, at least it's peaceful...........?
PSN: Wstfgl | GamerTag: An Evil Plan | Battle.net: FallenIdle#1970
Hit me up on BoardGameArena! User: Loaded D1
THEY'RE GETTING HIGH! RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIIIIIIIVES!
It's not that he assumed I knew Turkish. It's that he had grown up all his life hearing and speaking Turkish, so that's what his brain is hard wired to interpret. Without thinking about it, if you hear something in your native language, your brain processes it as such. When he heard me say "bus", his brains first thought was "Go!". Only later did his brain go through the much longer process of saying "Bus: that's English for giant metal thing of death. That's probably what he means."
Reminds me of the time I was out with some friends in the first year of sixth form. People were just starting to get their driving licences and there were 4 of us in the car, with our smart and very reliable/law abiding friend driving.
I don't remember the specifics but when driving along a moderately busy road near the local high street my friend Jack thought it would be funny to suddenely and alarmingly yell 'GO LEFT!' and sure enough, the guy driving automatically yanks the wheel over to the left and we swerve around a bit while he straightens out.
It was incredibly stupid and highly dangerous, but there was no damage done and it was funny afterwards.
Dear BioHaz
Please send me seven randomly chosen numbers. They can be anything between, and including, 1 and 49.
Thanks.
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