On the boss call thing - yeah, I did end up bringing it up later, and he found it pretty funny.
Also, I just remembered another story that I don't think I've ever posted. It's not embarrassing for me, but good god is it embarrassing for some other people.
So, I know someone who works at a bank, and they recently had a dispute over their night deposit drop box. Two employees from some local restaurant had dropped off a deposit one night, but several days later the bank had no record of it. The bank, of course, insisted that it must have fallen on the ground outside and been stolen, but the employees insisted they had securely put it in the drop box.
Finally, the bank caved and had Diebold come out to disassemble their drop box and make sure it hadn't gotten stuck in there somewhere. Apparently, disassembling this thing is an arduous and lengthy process, but two hours later - lo and behold - they had found the deposit. It had managed to get stuck in the box somehow, seemingly lodged between the walls from the way my friend described it.
The interesting part of the story is that they also found another envelope in there, with a few grand in it.
Turns out it was a deposit some Blockbuster employee had been fired for "stealing"...nine years ago.
WHOOPS.
That sucks. Especially if BB got legal on that guy's ass.
What happens if the company no longer exists? Who gets the money? Return to sender?
On the boss call thing - yeah, I did end up bringing it up later, and he found it pretty funny.
Also, I just remembered another story that I don't think I've ever posted. It's not embarrassing for me, but good god is it embarrassing for some other people.
So, I know someone who works at a bank, and they recently had a dispute over their night deposit drop box. Two employees from some local restaurant had dropped off a deposit one night, but several days later the bank had no record of it. The bank, of course, insisted that it must have fallen on the ground outside and been stolen, but the employees insisted they had securely put it in the drop box.
Finally, the bank caved and had Diebold come out to disassemble their drop box and make sure it hadn't gotten stuck in there somewhere. Apparently, disassembling this thing is an arduous and lengthy process, but two hours later - lo and behold - they had found the deposit. It had managed to get stuck in the box somehow, seemingly lodged between the walls from the way my friend described it.
The interesting part of the story is that they also found another envelope in there, with a few grand in it.
Turns out it was a deposit some Blockbuster employee had been fired for "stealing"...nine years ago.
Back when I was 12 or 13, my parents had a couple down the street they were best friends with. Living on military bases, it can sometimes be hard to find people you can consider good friends, because everyone's always moving away. They were there for about a year or so, and in that time I spent a good amount of time with them as well. Their names were Barbara and Raymond.
Raymond was a counselor in the Navy. Basically when someone was having a problem, they'd talk to him. Work-related, home-related, whatever. Raymond was also a prankster. It wasn't uncommon for us to go out to dinner, and after Raymond had excused himself to go to the bathroom and hadn't come back for 10 minutes, we'd start looking around and notice the other people in the restaurant were looking at the front windows and appearing pretty upset. So we'd look, and there was Raymond, mooning everyone.
Anyway, one day we were having a BBQ and I went with Barb and Raymond to the store to get a few things. As we're walking down the aisles, Raymond starts tossing in multiples of every item he could get his hands on, telling Barb he wanted to buy a lot so they wouldn't have to come to the store again for a while. 3 jars of pickles, 6 bottles of ketchup, 10 packages of hot dogs...just tons of shit. 3 carts later, we're ready to check out.
I have an idea that Raymond's up to something, but I can't figure out what. So we get to the checkout line, and after the 5 or so minutes it takes to scan everything, the bill totals about $300 or so.
At this point, Raymond slams his hands down on the counter, looks at Barbara and yells, "I KNEW I SHOULD'VE NEVER MARRIED YOU WITH ALL THOSE DAMN KIDS! HOW THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT ME TO PAY FOR THIS SHIT EVERY WEEK!"
Then he storms out of the door, gets in the car and peels out of the parking lot.
I'm laughing my ass off, Barb is just kind of shocked but embarrassed as hell, and the people behind us as well as the cashier were just completely taken aback. They couldn't believe what they had seen, and one lady walks up to Barbara and asks if she's ok, blah blah blah. About this time, Raymond walks back into the store with a shit-eating grin on his face, I'm still laughing so hard I'm in tears, and Barb just looks at him and says, "You asshole."
Ray loaded everything back up into the cart, and we went around putting everything we didn't need back on the shelf.
For a minute, though, I thought the people behind us were going to murder him when he came back in.
cr0w on
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RingoHe/Hima distinct lack of substanceRegistered Userregular
edited April 2009
Losing votes, losing money - I bet Jimmy Hoffa is hidden under a Diebold machine.
I hung out with my old high school friends for New Year's Eve two years ago.
We threw the party at Blake's house, about 20 miles outside of town proper. To reach the party I drove down a winding mountain road. It was raining heavily, but I was not particularly concerned with the rain at the time.
I arrived at 10 PM and a pristine new Mercedes caught my eye. Jim was borrowing his dad's rental car, but any further conversation was cut off when we decided to relocate the party.
Blake was the first to leave in his Mustang; I followed closely in my '95 Honda Accord. I hereby assert with absolute authority that tailing a Mustang with an old Accord during heavy rain is a bad idea.
My car hydroplanes head-on towards an SUV. Time slows.
So this is how it ends?
Interesting. I expected to feel more sadness.
How surprising, dying at 19. Why aren't I more upset about this? Why am I so calm?
I had a decent life. Good friends and family, no looming regrets.
I wish it had gone on a little longer, though.
I steer hard right but to no avail. Fortunately, the suburban slows down and edges towards the side of the road. Better still, my wheels regain traction. My car leaps into the right lane, completely out of the SUV's path.
I'm ecstatic. I feel bad for terrifying the poor guy in the other car, but there won't be any body bags! I'm lucky to even be alive, and on top of that there is not even a scratch on my car!
My car collides with Jim's rental Mercedes, totaling both vehicles. His age invalidates his dad's rental insurance.
kedinik on
I made a game! Hotline Maui. Requires mouse and keyboard.
On the boss call thing - yeah, I did end up bringing it up later, and he found it pretty funny.
Also, I just remembered another story that I don't think I've ever posted. It's not embarrassing for me, but good god is it embarrassing for some other people.
So, I know someone who works at a bank, and they recently had a dispute over their night deposit drop box. Two employees from some local restaurant had dropped off a deposit one night, but several days later the bank had no record of it. The bank, of course, insisted that it must have fallen on the ground outside and been stolen, but the employees insisted they had securely put it in the drop box.
Finally, the bank caved and had Diebold come out to disassemble their drop box and make sure it hadn't gotten stuck in there somewhere. Apparently, disassembling this thing is an arduous and lengthy process, but two hours later - lo and behold - they had found the deposit. It had managed to get stuck in the box somehow, seemingly lodged between the walls from the way my friend described it.
The interesting part of the story is that they also found another envelope in there, with a few grand in it.
Turns out it was a deposit some Blockbuster employee had been fired for "stealing"...nine years ago.
WHOOPS.
That poor kid. The only time I've ever been fired was when I was accused of stealing at some crappy retail job. I didn't steal and getting fired from a job I'd worked really hard at was like a kick in the teeth.
mystikspyral on
"When life gives you lemons, just say 'Fuck the lemons,' and bail" :rotate:
Yeah, I was really curious to know if the guy ever got his name cleared or what, but alas, my friend never heard anything else because they had to just forward everything on to their legal department.
This was a strange and embarrassing incident for at least three families.
When I was around five or six I lived in a duplex. My best friend was a deaf girl named Laura; she was about ninety five percent deaf or something along those lines. She mostly used sign language but she could hear enough to sort of speak so she was taking speech lessons from a special tutor to improve her speech.
Her parents were kind enough to lend mine a video of her with her speech coach. They stashed the VHS tape on the TV and didn't immediately watch it.
My sisters, seven and six years my senior, my two year old brother and I would get up and watch TV in the middle of the night when we were kids. My brother and I loved our Bozo the Clown at 3AM. We got up one night and decided to pop in my friend's speech tape.
That is how, at the ripe old age of five or six, I saw my first blow job. Actually, that's how all of my siblings saw our first blow job.
Apparently we weren't the first family that the tape had been borrowed by. The other people had mistakenly recorded their home porno onto the speech tape and then eventually returned it to Laura's parents, totally unaware of what they had sent back. Laura’s parents had already seen the tape so they passed it to us without viewing it again.
For a long time after that I thought women got pregnant by blow jobs until my mother asked me what I knew about how babies were made. I proudly relayed my knowledge to her. She was horrified.
mystikspyral on
"When life gives you lemons, just say 'Fuck the lemons,' and bail" :rotate:
I hung out with my old high school friends for New Year's Eve two years ago.
We threw the party at Blake's house, about 20 miles outside of town proper. To reach the party I drove down a winding mountain road. It was raining heavily, but I was not particularly concerned with the rain at the time.
I arrived at 10 PM and a pristine new Mercedes caught my eye. Jim was borrowing his dad's rental car, but any further conversation was cut off when we decided to relocate the party.
Blake was the first to leave in his Mustang; I followed closely in my '95 Honda Accord. I hereby assert with absolute authority that tailing a Mustang with an old Accord during heavy rain is a bad idea.
My car hydroplanes head-on towards an SUV. Time slows.
So this is how it ends?
Interesting. I expected to feel more sadness.
How surprising, dying at 19. Why aren't I more upset about this? Why am I so calm?
I had a decent life. Good friends and family, no looming regrets.
I wish it had gone on a little longer, though.
I steer hard right but to no avail. Fortunately, the suburban slows down and edges towards the side of the road. Better still, my wheels regain traction. My car leaps into the right lane, completely out of the SUV's path.
I'm ecstatic. I feel bad for terrifying the poor guy in the other car, but there won't be any body bags! I'm lucky to even be alive, and on top of that there is not even a scratch on my car!
My car collides with Jim's rental Mercedes, totaling both vehicles. His age invalidates his dad's rental insurance.
I was totally expecting that and not expecting that at the same time.
For those of you who were stopped by airport security, at least you didn't try to bring a fully fueled chainsaw onto the plane. Apperantly, Logan security has had to confiscate two of these over the years.
I rarely carry cash, and I don't drink beer or have anything with a beer logo on it.
About a year ago, I did have a dollar in the tray in my car, and I'm sitting at a stoplight and a really old homeless man is standing there with a sign asking for food. I roll my window down to give the guy the dollar.
He gives me a really big grin and then says "HAHAH BUDWISER!" and walks off.
Around 1996, I was enlisted in the Air Force and stationed in South Carolina. Terrible place, Sumter, but that's neither here nor there. Also, I'm male. Not that gender will play a role in this story, but it seems good to elaborate for that sort of thing in this thread.
"The Distance" by Cake had come out recently and was awesome, and the band was actually coming to Columbia. So myself and two friends head out to see them in some crappy bar. It was a college bar, which really wasn't our scene, but whatever.
So we get there early for some reason and get up right next to the stage, which is your typical one foot off the ground deal. The bar fills up, wall to wall, with college kids and the opening band starts up. I don't know who it was, but they were absolutely awful. And they went for an hour. It was some singing, poetry, screaming thing that I didn't get and seemed to be artsy for artsy's sake. And the three of us are just standing there, not moving, because it sucks, while the crowd cheers and gyrates around us.
So we're already tired when Cake takes the stage. John McCrea is literally standing a foot away from me. It's slightly awkward, but who cares, because it's Cake! And that one song I know from them is awesome! So they play song after song after song that I don't know, and don't particularly care for. And my friends and I are just standing there, looking at each other, because we're three guys who don't want to dance around and we don't know these songs.
Finally they play The Distance. And it's awesome. Sounds exactly like it does on the radio and on tv. And then it's done, and we're ready to go home. So we agree to leave and turn to walk out. Then John McCrea looks at me, right in the eyes, because I could shake hands with him I'm that damn close, and says, "Yeah, some people have decided to leave after that song, let's all help these guys out of here with some country music."
So as we slowly push our way to the exit of this bar, which is in the exact opposite location of where we are, the band is playing some sort of mocking song the whole time. I never wanted to be anywhere else like I did then.
The shame of it is I really like Cake now. At least I got a story out of it though.
My ex-girlfriend took me to Build-A-Bear once and gave me a stuffed monkey dressed up as Superman. We called it "Super Monkey," and it was an awesome gift. Imagine a foot-tall Curious George in blue tights with six-pack abs.
About two years ago I had to move, and "Super Monkey" was the last thing to get packed. I hadn't planned very well and so I couldn't fit him anywhere in my checked baggage. Fortunately, at the time you were allowed two carry-on bags so I just dug up an old crappy backpack and crammed him in there. He was the only thing in the backpack and he still just barely fit, but hey, crisis adverted, right?
Cut to airport security... I go through the metal detector just fine and wait for my bags. The first one comes out as expected. The second one is taking longer than usual. I'm wondering what I have that could possibly look suspicious, and then it hits me that the bag I'm waiting for is my "Super Monkey" bag. I look up and see Mr. Airport Security Guy scanning my bag backwards and forwards and chuckling to himself. Then he turns to two of his airport security buddies and calls them over. They see my bag and burst out laughing. My line has come to a complete standstill as they laugh and crack jokes about how hey, doesn't this Superman Monkey make you think of that airport security guy over in the next line? They call him over. He brings almost everyone from his line. Now the adjacent lines have also shut down while a small crowd of 10-12 uniformed airport luggage scanners crack joke after joke about my "Super Monkey" and who among their friends he reminds them of.
In retrospect this was pretty funny and I should have felt kind of awesome, but at the time seeing a small crowd of officials bent over laughing at my stuffed animal had me blushing fairly strongly. After a short while the group lets the bag through and my original scanner asks me, with as serious a voice as he can muster, to please open the bag slowly. Now, I'd really packed Super Monkey in there tightly to get him to fit, so when I open the bag my stuffed animal pops out and goes flying on to the conveyor belt below him. The airport security crowd lets out a final cheer and says I'm free to go. I gather my stuff and speedwalk away, bright red. It wasn't until I was on my plane that I finally relaxed and had a laugh about it.
The weird thing is that in all my other experiences with airport security they've been exactly the sort of humorless and straight-faced professionals you expect them to be. I guess I'll never know what was going on with this airport and this shift that made a stuffed animal capable of shutting down three lines of baggage scanning for upwards of five minutes.
My ex-girlfriend took me to Build-A-Bear once and gave me a stuffed monkey dressed up as Superman. We called it "Super Monkey," and it was an awesome gift. Imagine a foot-tall Curious George in blue tights with six-pack abs.
About two years ago I had to move, and "Super Monkey" was the last thing to get packed. I hadn't planned very well and so I couldn't fit him anywhere in my checked baggage. Fortunately, at the time you were allowed two carry-on bags so I just dug up an old crappy backpack and crammed him in there. He was the only thing in the backpack and he still just barely fit, but hey, crisis adverted, right?
Cut to airport security... I go through the metal detector just fine and wait for my bags. The first one comes out as expected. The second one is taking longer than usual. I'm wondering what I have that could possibly look suspicious, and then it hits me that the bag I'm waiting for is my "Super Monkey" bag. I look up and see Mr. Airport Security Guy scanning my bag backwards and forwards and chuckling to himself. Then he turns to two of his airport security buddies and calls them over. They see my bag and burst out laughing. My line has come to a complete standstill as they laugh and crack jokes about how hey, doesn't this Superman Monkey make you think of that airport security guy over in the next line? They call him over. He brings almost everyone from his line. Now the adjacent lines have also shut down while a small crowd of 10-12 uniformed airport luggage scanners crack joke after joke about my "Super Monkey" and who among their friends he reminds them of.
In retrospect this was pretty funny and I should have felt kind of awesome, but at the time seeing a small crowd of officials bent over laughing at my stuffed animal had me blushing fairly strongly. After a short while the group lets the bag through and my original scanner asks me, with as serious a voice as he can muster, to please open the bag slowly. Now, I'd really packed Super Monkey in there tightly to get him to fit, so when I open the bag my stuffed animal pops out and goes flying on to the conveyor belt below him. The airport security crowd lets out a final cheer and says I'm free to go. I gather my stuff and speedwalk away, bright red. It wasn't until I was on my plane that I finally relaxed and had a laugh about it.
The weird thing is that in all my other experiences with airport security they've been exactly the sort of humorless and straight-faced professionals you expect them to be. I guess I'll never know what was going on with this airport and this shift that made a stuffed animal capable of shutting down three lines of baggage scanning for upwards of five minutes.
It's funny, while I've never been "busted", so to speak, I've gone through the same thing. My little sister gave me a stuffed monkey for Christmas a few ears ago. The monkey is only half a foot tall, but the thing is, his little paws are attached to his body through high-strength medical tubing. And there are tiny string loops in the paws. And he has a black cape and black bandito mask. And when you put two of your fingers in the loops and you pull him back by his legs and tail....you let go and he goes FLYING, slingshot style. Easily 20 or 30 feet. Anyway, inside of this toy is a little sensor and speaker: when he goes flying through the air, he lets out an unearthly monkey shriek, George of the Jungle style. It's wildly hilarious. And totally unable to be turned off.
Long story short, it's extremely sensitive to being dropped and colliding with hard surfaces. So every time I come back home for the summer or christmas break, if I have to bring the monkey with me, I have to stuff it tightly inside my steel-toed boots to absorb any potential shock to my suitcase while flying cross-country.
I mean, what if you were a baggage handler at an airport and a suitcase started shrieking like a monkey at you?
Rikushix on
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ShadowfireVermont, in the middle of nowhereRegistered Userregular
My ex-girlfriend took me to Build-A-Bear once and gave me a stuffed monkey dressed up as Superman. We called it "Super Monkey," and it was an awesome gift. Imagine a foot-tall Curious George in blue tights with six-pack abs.
About two years ago I had to move, and "Super Monkey" was the last thing to get packed. I hadn't planned very well and so I couldn't fit him anywhere in my checked baggage. Fortunately, at the time you were allowed two carry-on bags so I just dug up an old crappy backpack and crammed him in there. He was the only thing in the backpack and he still just barely fit, but hey, crisis adverted, right?
Cut to airport security... I go through the metal detector just fine and wait for my bags. The first one comes out as expected. The second one is taking longer than usual. I'm wondering what I have that could possibly look suspicious, and then it hits me that the bag I'm waiting for is my "Super Monkey" bag. I look up and see Mr. Airport Security Guy scanning my bag backwards and forwards and chuckling to himself. Then he turns to two of his airport security buddies and calls them over. They see my bag and burst out laughing. My line has come to a complete standstill as they laugh and crack jokes about how hey, doesn't this Superman Monkey make you think of that airport security guy over in the next line? They call him over. He brings almost everyone from his line. Now the adjacent lines have also shut down while a small crowd of 10-12 uniformed airport luggage scanners crack joke after joke about my "Super Monkey" and who among their friends he reminds them of.
In retrospect this was pretty funny and I should have felt kind of awesome, but at the time seeing a small crowd of officials bent over laughing at my stuffed animal had me blushing fairly strongly. After a short while the group lets the bag through and my original scanner asks me, with as serious a voice as he can muster, to please open the bag slowly. Now, I'd really packed Super Monkey in there tightly to get him to fit, so when I open the bag my stuffed animal pops out and goes flying on to the conveyor belt below him. The airport security crowd lets out a final cheer and says I'm free to go. I gather my stuff and speedwalk away, bright red. It wasn't until I was on my plane that I finally relaxed and had a laugh about it.
The weird thing is that in all my other experiences with airport security they've been exactly the sort of humorless and straight-faced professionals you expect them to be. I guess I'll never know what was going on with this airport and this shift that made a stuffed animal capable of shutting down three lines of baggage scanning for upwards of five minutes.
It's funny, while I've never been "busted", so to speak, I've gone through the same thing. My little sister gave me a stuffed monkey for Christmas a few ears ago. The monkey is only half a foot tall, but the thing is, his little paws are attached to his body through high-strength medical tubing. And there are tiny string loops in the paws. And he has a black cape and black bandito mask. And when you put two of your fingers in the loops and you pull him back by his legs and tail....you let go and he goes FLYING, slingshot style. Easily 20 or 30 feet. Anyway, inside of this toy is a little sensor and speaker: when he goes flying through the air, he lets out an unearthly monkey shriek, George of the Jungle style. It's wildly hilarious. And totally unable to be turned off.
Long story short, it's extremely sensitive to being dropped and colliding with hard surfaces. So every time I come back home for the summer or christmas break, if I have to bring the monkey with me, I have to stuff it tightly inside my steel-toed boots to absorb any potential shock to my suitcase while flying cross-country.
I mean, what if you were a baggage handler at an airport and a suitcase started shrieking like a monkey at you?
I would think you'd notice the stuffed monkey as you search for valuables... (zing!)
My ex-girlfriend took me to Build-A-Bear once and gave me a stuffed monkey dressed up as Superman. We called it "Super Monkey," and it was an awesome gift. Imagine a foot-tall Curious George in blue tights with six-pack abs.
About two years ago I had to move, and "Super Monkey" was the last thing to get packed. I hadn't planned very well and so I couldn't fit him anywhere in my checked baggage. Fortunately, at the time you were allowed two carry-on bags so I just dug up an old crappy backpack and crammed him in there. He was the only thing in the backpack and he still just barely fit, but hey, crisis adverted, right?
Cut to airport security... I go through the metal detector just fine and wait for my bags. The first one comes out as expected. The second one is taking longer than usual. I'm wondering what I have that could possibly look suspicious, and then it hits me that the bag I'm waiting for is my "Super Monkey" bag. I look up and see Mr. Airport Security Guy scanning my bag backwards and forwards and chuckling to himself. Then he turns to two of his airport security buddies and calls them over. They see my bag and burst out laughing. My line has come to a complete standstill as they laugh and crack jokes about how hey, doesn't this Superman Monkey make you think of that airport security guy over in the next line? They call him over. He brings almost everyone from his line. Now the adjacent lines have also shut down while a small crowd of 10-12 uniformed airport luggage scanners crack joke after joke about my "Super Monkey" and who among their friends he reminds them of.
In retrospect this was pretty funny and I should have felt kind of awesome, but at the time seeing a small crowd of officials bent over laughing at my stuffed animal had me blushing fairly strongly. After a short while the group lets the bag through and my original scanner asks me, with as serious a voice as he can muster, to please open the bag slowly. Now, I'd really packed Super Monkey in there tightly to get him to fit, so when I open the bag my stuffed animal pops out and goes flying on to the conveyor belt below him. The airport security crowd lets out a final cheer and says I'm free to go. I gather my stuff and speedwalk away, bright red. It wasn't until I was on my plane that I finally relaxed and had a laugh about it.
The weird thing is that in all my other experiences with airport security they've been exactly the sort of humorless and straight-faced professionals you expect them to be. I guess I'll never know what was going on with this airport and this shift that made a stuffed animal capable of shutting down three lines of baggage scanning for upwards of five minutes.
It's funny, while I've never been "busted", so to speak, I've gone through the same thing. My little sister gave me a stuffed monkey for Christmas a few ears ago. The monkey is only half a foot tall, but the thing is, his little paws are attached to his body through high-strength medical tubing. And there are tiny string loops in the paws. And he has a black cape and black bandito mask. And when you put two of your fingers in the loops and you pull him back by his legs and tail....you let go and he goes FLYING, slingshot style. Easily 20 or 30 feet. Anyway, inside of this toy is a little sensor and speaker: when he goes flying through the air, he lets out an unearthly monkey shriek, George of the Jungle style. It's wildly hilarious. And totally unable to be turned off.
Long story short, it's extremely sensitive to being dropped and colliding with hard surfaces. So every time I come back home for the summer or christmas break, if I have to bring the monkey with me, I have to stuff it tightly inside my steel-toed boots to absorb any potential shock to my suitcase while flying cross-country.
I mean, what if you were a baggage handler at an airport and a suitcase started shrieking like a monkey at you?
I would think you'd notice the stuffed monkey as you search for valuables... (zing!)
My little sister gave me a stuffed monkey for Christmas a few ears ago. The monkey is only half a foot tall, but the thing is, his little paws are attached to his body through high-strength medical tubing. And there are tiny string loops in the paws. And he has a black cape and black bandito mask. And when you put two of your fingers in the loops and you pull him back by his legs and tail....you let go and he goes FLYING, slingshot style. Easily 20 or 30 feet. Anyway, inside of this toy is a little sensor and speaker: when he goes flying through the air, he lets out an unearthly monkey shriek, George of the Jungle style. It's wildly hilarious. And totally unable to be turned off.
My mom got those for my 2 brothers and for me and my husband and one for herself for christmas about 2 years ago. They were funny for awhile. Until you've heard 5 screeching monkeys for a couple days straight it seems like :-P
I strangely don't know where they disappeared to.....I forgot about it for the last couple years. My husband hated it the most. I think he may have hid them...even though he denied it when I asked just now.
The scene: my best friend's wedding reception. It was held at a fairly upscale restaraunt; the bride had worked there previously and was friends with some of the managers. Great view from a hillside, valet parking, dance floor, the works. The important thing to remember here is valet parking.
At one point the best man (friend's brother) asked me to go grab his camera out of his truck's glove box. "Do you know which truck is mine?" he asks. Of course I did: it's a huge black pickup with a skull on the towhook. How many of those could there be? I went out into the parking lot, found said truck, opened the door (unlocked - remember, valet parking), found the camera in the glove box, and returned to the party.
About an hour later, the best man asked where his camera is. "It's over there, Nunya has it." I said.
"That's not my camera."
"Sure it is, I got it from that truck over there." (point)
"...I'm parked over there." (point to other side of parking lot).
Turns out there could possibly be multiple huge black pickups with skulls on the towhooks in the parking lot with a camera in the glove box that night. Eep.
I drunkenly Solid Snake my way across the parking lot, put the camera back in the glove box, and sneak back. I really wonder what happened when whoever owned that truck discovered an hour's worth of someone else's wedding party pictures on their camera later...
Bursar on
GNU Terry Pratchett
PSN: Wstfgl | GamerTag: An Evil Plan | Battle.net: FallenIdle#1970
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I drunkenly Solid Snake my way across the parking lot, put the camera back in the glove box, and sneak back. I really wonder what happened when whoever owned that truck discovered an hour's worth of someone else's wedding party pictures on their camera later...
Haha yeah I know those moments, when you think to yourself "Ok ok calm down, nobody knows yet. You can fix this, you just need a plan..."
My dad had one of those moments in a Turkish airport. He's gotten his suitcase, and as he's moving out he's asked to open it. Only, it has a little padlock on it, and suddenly he can't seem to find the little key for the little padlock. Cue a handful of guards totting little submachine guns suddenly materializing out of nowhere, while he's getting more and more flustered and they're getting more and more aggravated.
This goes on for a while, until one of them just goes, 'ah, screw it', and lets him go along. Which is pretty strange.
I tested positive for explosives once, gogo sniffer, but the guards didn't know what to do because the supervisor was on break. They sit around and scratch their collective asses for a while, while having all lanes closed. Understandably, a few of the several hundred people behind me got a little pissed and vocal, so the guards just shrugged and waved me through.
My little sister gave me a stuffed monkey for Christmas a few ears ago. The monkey is only half a foot tall, but the thing is, his little paws are attached to his body through high-strength medical tubing. And there are tiny string loops in the paws. And he has a black cape and black bandito mask. And when you put two of your fingers in the loops and you pull him back by his legs and tail....you let go and he goes FLYING, slingshot style. Easily 20 or 30 feet. Anyway, inside of this toy is a little sensor and speaker: when he goes flying through the air, he lets out an unearthly monkey shriek, George of the Jungle style. It's wildly hilarious. And totally unable to be turned off.
My mom got those for my 2 brothers and for me and my husband and one for herself for christmas about 2 years ago. They were funny for awhile. Until you've heard 5 screeching monkeys for a couple days straight it seems like :-P
I strangely don't know where they disappeared to.....I forgot about it for the last couple years. My husband hated it the most. I think he may have hid them...even though he denied it when I asked just now.
Here's a real , albeit little SandE story, to make up for the previous bit of fail.
Couple years ago me and the gf take our first real holiday abroad, to canada (nice holiday actually, did enjoy it). So we're flying over on a plane, and they warn everyone who hasn't flown before about the sickbags, in case we need them. We demurred at first, as we felt fine, but the various effects of a fairly rapid descent on landing caused my gf to hurl all over her top, the seat, everything, just after we touch down. Not the best way to enter a new country, and we felt rather sheepish. I think next time we'll be better prepared, but man, not the smoothest entrance.
Incidentally, taking off was a VERY weird sensation. There's something distinctly odd about shooting up into the sky in a long metal tube with bigass engines sticking out on wings to either side.
I've flown a pretty fair amount, and I still haven't gotten used to take off. Landing's fine, but unless my eyes are glued to a window upon departure I feel like shit for the next hour or two. Although, one time upon landing, almost right after that little jolt when you hit the run way, a blood clot about the size of a pea fell out of my right nostril and it just wouldn't stop flowing (couldn't really breathe through my nose earlier in the day, had chalked it up to allergies because it was spring). I buzz a stewardess with my thumb up my nose and ask if I can be let off the plane first; they ask why, so I pull out my thumb, she goes bugshit, and I start turning a bit red because I'm embarrassed at having caused this little scene, which in turn drives her even more crazy. I guess I looked like a real mess by the time I got off, but fucked if I care, because I'm getting off a plane with 40 odd rows of seats first from row 30-something, thumb up my nose and all.
I never understood how people get airsick. I mean, like, yes, the sensation of movement without seeing it does feel odd, but how does that = vomiting? Seasickness I get, because if you are going cross-swell, there is ALOT of movement, constantly.
Some people get really sick in a moving car, let alone an airplane. It's not a thing that can be controlled. My mother gets quite sick on even very short car trips without medication.
Motion sickness is a weird thing. I get motion sick if I read in a car for more than a minute or two, or if I play game boy or basically do anything but look around. But if I take dramamein(sp) for motion sickness I can't stay awake for more than 2 minutes to read. It's kind of funny...but mostly suck.
Fortunately it doesn't affect me unless I do those things, and it doesn't seem to affect me on larger vehicles such as buses or planes.
Embarassing story from uni, not great but I feel like contributing to this new thread:
I lived in halls for the first year of university and spent most of my time drunk. Opposite the door to our bathroom (which had 9 showers, plenty of toilets etc) was the linen-change for our section of the campus. It was only open once a week and packed out.
Now after a pretty heavy night out I manage to rouse myself from my bedroom, wrap a towel around my waist and head to the bathroom. I totally forgot it was the day of the linen change and rounded a corner to be greeted by hundreds of people.
I figure I don't really want to barge by everyone to get to the shower, and they're all looking at me anyway, so I turn to head back to my room. As I do the door to the kitchen (behind me) opens up and one of the lads I lived with ran by, grabbed my towel and bolted in to his room. I stood there angrily shouting at him.
Then it dawned on me I was stood there shouting at him without my towel in front of nearly 200 people. I walked back to my room with my head held low not looking at anyone.
See, I would've done exactly what you did, but prior to the head hanging I would've tried to muster a line like, "Oh you like it." I just don't usually have the courage to look crowds in the eye.
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ShadowfireVermont, in the middle of nowhereRegistered Userregular
Some people get really sick in a moving car, let alone an airplane. It's not a thing that can be controlled. My mother gets quite sick on even very short car trips without medication.
Some people get really sick in a moving car, let alone an airplane. It's not a thing that can be controlled. My mother gets quite sick on even very short car trips without medication.
Some people get really sick in a moving car, let alone an airplane. It's not a thing that can be controlled. My mother gets quite sick on even very short car trips without medication.
Doesn't seem that strange to me. I know HL2 had some issues with the airboat section.
It was -all- of HL2 for me. And Metroid Prime. And Dark Sector.
On the other hand, Prey? Never got sick. Same with Mirror's Edge, or any flight sim. I has to do with the viewing angle of the character, and any motion that the camera has. In Jedi Knight 2, you could get rid of motion sway, and change the viewing angle of the character. Doing both of those made it playable.
See, I would've done exactly what you did, but prior to the head hanging I would've tried to muster a line like, "Oh you like it." I just don't usually have the courage to look crowds in the eye.
I've always wondered what would happen if your "electronic device" didn't have any batteries or something. How would you prove it worked?
That very nearly happened to me a year or two after 9/11 - I was on a weekend trip and I'd taken my cell phone but forgotten to pack the charger. So halfway through the weekend my phone dies and I don't think much of it (aside from, "oh crap, the charger is on the other side of the country"), until I'm going through security at the airport on the way back. They pull the phone out of my carry-on bag and ask me to turn it on. When I tell them that the battery is dead, the security guy says they'll have to confiscate it if I can't turn it on! Luckily it had just enough juice to get the 'Nokia' screen to pop up before it died again. Thank god my laptop was fully charged.
Hmm, just realized that's not particularly strange or embarassing. So how about this (freelancerbob's story reminded me of this one):
I used to work for a company where the boss would pick us up first thing in the morning on the way to the jobsite. I also rented a room in the basement of a house. Meaning I had to be outside waiting when the boss got there, because I couldn't hear the doorbell and had no way of knowing if anyone was at the door. So this one day I wake up and find to my horror that I've overslept by a considerable amount (like, an hour or so). No one is waiting for me outside, but who knows how long they waited before giving up. I frantically call the boss's cell phone but there's no answer. I'm panicked at this point so I do the only thing I can think of - grab my stuff and book it to the jobsite. Did I mention that I don't have a car? And the jobsite is in the neighbouring town?
Anyway, a solid half-hour of running my ass off in steel-toed boots, carrying water jug and backpack gets me to the jobsite, but to my surprise none of the crew is there. Wtf. So now I'm worried that I've somehow missed them and they're sitting outside my house waiting for me. Christ. So I run all the way back home again.
So I get home about two hours after I'm supposed to be picked up for work. Of course no one is there. My watch is right...it's not the weekend...what the hell is going on here? I dig up my boss's home phone number and try that...maybe his wife knows what's going on.
The phone rings. And rings. Finally my boss answers, groggily. I just woke him up. There was a power failure during the night that reset his alarm clock.
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That sucks. Especially if BB got legal on that guy's ass.
What happens if the company no longer exists? Who gets the money? Return to sender?
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Wow.
Raymond was a counselor in the Navy. Basically when someone was having a problem, they'd talk to him. Work-related, home-related, whatever. Raymond was also a prankster. It wasn't uncommon for us to go out to dinner, and after Raymond had excused himself to go to the bathroom and hadn't come back for 10 minutes, we'd start looking around and notice the other people in the restaurant were looking at the front windows and appearing pretty upset. So we'd look, and there was Raymond, mooning everyone.
Anyway, one day we were having a BBQ and I went with Barb and Raymond to the store to get a few things. As we're walking down the aisles, Raymond starts tossing in multiples of every item he could get his hands on, telling Barb he wanted to buy a lot so they wouldn't have to come to the store again for a while. 3 jars of pickles, 6 bottles of ketchup, 10 packages of hot dogs...just tons of shit. 3 carts later, we're ready to check out.
I have an idea that Raymond's up to something, but I can't figure out what. So we get to the checkout line, and after the 5 or so minutes it takes to scan everything, the bill totals about $300 or so.
At this point, Raymond slams his hands down on the counter, looks at Barbara and yells, "I KNEW I SHOULD'VE NEVER MARRIED YOU WITH ALL THOSE DAMN KIDS! HOW THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT ME TO PAY FOR THIS SHIT EVERY WEEK!"
Then he storms out of the door, gets in the car and peels out of the parking lot.
I'm laughing my ass off, Barb is just kind of shocked but embarrassed as hell, and the people behind us as well as the cashier were just completely taken aback. They couldn't believe what they had seen, and one lady walks up to Barbara and asks if she's ok, blah blah blah. About this time, Raymond walks back into the store with a shit-eating grin on his face, I'm still laughing so hard I'm in tears, and Barb just looks at him and says, "You asshole."
Ray loaded everything back up into the cart, and we went around putting everything we didn't need back on the shelf.
For a minute, though, I thought the people behind us were going to murder him when he came back in.
We threw the party at Blake's house, about 20 miles outside of town proper. To reach the party I drove down a winding mountain road. It was raining heavily, but I was not particularly concerned with the rain at the time.
I arrived at 10 PM and a pristine new Mercedes caught my eye. Jim was borrowing his dad's rental car, but any further conversation was cut off when we decided to relocate the party.
Blake was the first to leave in his Mustang; I followed closely in my '95 Honda Accord. I hereby assert with absolute authority that tailing a Mustang with an old Accord during heavy rain is a bad idea.
My car hydroplanes head-on towards an SUV. Time slows.
Interesting. I expected to feel more sadness.
How surprising, dying at 19. Why aren't I more upset about this? Why am I so calm?
I had a decent life. Good friends and family, no looming regrets.
I wish it had gone on a little longer, though.
I'm ecstatic. I feel bad for terrifying the poor guy in the other car, but there won't be any body bags! I'm lucky to even be alive, and on top of that there is not even a scratch on my car!
That poor kid. The only time I've ever been fired was when I was accused of stealing at some crappy retail job. I didn't steal and getting fired from a job I'd worked really hard at was like a kick in the teeth.
When I was around five or six I lived in a duplex. My best friend was a deaf girl named Laura; she was about ninety five percent deaf or something along those lines. She mostly used sign language but she could hear enough to sort of speak so she was taking speech lessons from a special tutor to improve her speech.
Her parents were kind enough to lend mine a video of her with her speech coach. They stashed the VHS tape on the TV and didn't immediately watch it.
My sisters, seven and six years my senior, my two year old brother and I would get up and watch TV in the middle of the night when we were kids. My brother and I loved our Bozo the Clown at 3AM. We got up one night and decided to pop in my friend's speech tape.
That is how, at the ripe old age of five or six, I saw my first blow job. Actually, that's how all of my siblings saw our first blow job.
Apparently we weren't the first family that the tape had been borrowed by. The other people had mistakenly recorded their home porno onto the speech tape and then eventually returned it to Laura's parents, totally unaware of what they had sent back. Laura’s parents had already seen the tape so they passed it to us without viewing it again.
For a long time after that I thought women got pregnant by blow jobs until my mother asked me what I knew about how babies were made. I proudly relayed my knowledge to her. She was horrified.
I was totally expecting that and not expecting that at the same time.
EDIT: On the mercedes thing.
About a year ago, I did have a dollar in the tray in my car, and I'm sitting at a stoplight and a really old homeless man is standing there with a sign asking for food. I roll my window down to give the guy the dollar.
He gives me a really big grin and then says "HAHAH BUDWISER!" and walks off.
"The Distance" by Cake had come out recently and was awesome, and the band was actually coming to Columbia. So myself and two friends head out to see them in some crappy bar. It was a college bar, which really wasn't our scene, but whatever.
So we get there early for some reason and get up right next to the stage, which is your typical one foot off the ground deal. The bar fills up, wall to wall, with college kids and the opening band starts up. I don't know who it was, but they were absolutely awful. And they went for an hour. It was some singing, poetry, screaming thing that I didn't get and seemed to be artsy for artsy's sake. And the three of us are just standing there, not moving, because it sucks, while the crowd cheers and gyrates around us.
So we're already tired when Cake takes the stage. John McCrea is literally standing a foot away from me. It's slightly awkward, but who cares, because it's Cake! And that one song I know from them is awesome! So they play song after song after song that I don't know, and don't particularly care for. And my friends and I are just standing there, looking at each other, because we're three guys who don't want to dance around and we don't know these songs.
Finally they play The Distance. And it's awesome. Sounds exactly like it does on the radio and on tv. And then it's done, and we're ready to go home. So we agree to leave and turn to walk out. Then John McCrea looks at me, right in the eyes, because I could shake hands with him I'm that damn close, and says, "Yeah, some people have decided to leave after that song, let's all help these guys out of here with some country music."
So as we slowly push our way to the exit of this bar, which is in the exact opposite location of where we are, the band is playing some sort of mocking song the whole time. I never wanted to be anywhere else like I did then.
The shame of it is I really like Cake now. At least I got a story out of it though.
This.
My ex-girlfriend took me to Build-A-Bear once and gave me a stuffed monkey dressed up as Superman. We called it "Super Monkey," and it was an awesome gift. Imagine a foot-tall Curious George in blue tights with six-pack abs.
About two years ago I had to move, and "Super Monkey" was the last thing to get packed. I hadn't planned very well and so I couldn't fit him anywhere in my checked baggage. Fortunately, at the time you were allowed two carry-on bags so I just dug up an old crappy backpack and crammed him in there. He was the only thing in the backpack and he still just barely fit, but hey, crisis adverted, right?
Cut to airport security... I go through the metal detector just fine and wait for my bags. The first one comes out as expected. The second one is taking longer than usual. I'm wondering what I have that could possibly look suspicious, and then it hits me that the bag I'm waiting for is my "Super Monkey" bag. I look up and see Mr. Airport Security Guy scanning my bag backwards and forwards and chuckling to himself. Then he turns to two of his airport security buddies and calls them over. They see my bag and burst out laughing. My line has come to a complete standstill as they laugh and crack jokes about how hey, doesn't this Superman Monkey make you think of that airport security guy over in the next line? They call him over. He brings almost everyone from his line. Now the adjacent lines have also shut down while a small crowd of 10-12 uniformed airport luggage scanners crack joke after joke about my "Super Monkey" and who among their friends he reminds them of.
In retrospect this was pretty funny and I should have felt kind of awesome, but at the time seeing a small crowd of officials bent over laughing at my stuffed animal had me blushing fairly strongly. After a short while the group lets the bag through and my original scanner asks me, with as serious a voice as he can muster, to please open the bag slowly. Now, I'd really packed Super Monkey in there tightly to get him to fit, so when I open the bag my stuffed animal pops out and goes flying on to the conveyor belt below him. The airport security crowd lets out a final cheer and says I'm free to go. I gather my stuff and speedwalk away, bright red. It wasn't until I was on my plane that I finally relaxed and had a laugh about it.
The weird thing is that in all my other experiences with airport security they've been exactly the sort of humorless and straight-faced professionals you expect them to be. I guess I'll never know what was going on with this airport and this shift that made a stuffed animal capable of shutting down three lines of baggage scanning for upwards of five minutes.
It's funny, while I've never been "busted", so to speak, I've gone through the same thing. My little sister gave me a stuffed monkey for Christmas a few ears ago. The monkey is only half a foot tall, but the thing is, his little paws are attached to his body through high-strength medical tubing. And there are tiny string loops in the paws. And he has a black cape and black bandito mask. And when you put two of your fingers in the loops and you pull him back by his legs and tail....you let go and he goes FLYING, slingshot style. Easily 20 or 30 feet. Anyway, inside of this toy is a little sensor and speaker: when he goes flying through the air, he lets out an unearthly monkey shriek, George of the Jungle style. It's wildly hilarious. And totally unable to be turned off.
Long story short, it's extremely sensitive to being dropped and colliding with hard surfaces. So every time I come back home for the summer or christmas break, if I have to bring the monkey with me, I have to stuff it tightly inside my steel-toed boots to absorb any potential shock to my suitcase while flying cross-country.
I mean, what if you were a baggage handler at an airport and a suitcase started shrieking like a monkey at you?
I would think you'd notice the stuffed monkey as you search for valuables... (zing!)
The scene: my best friend's wedding reception. It was held at a fairly upscale restaraunt; the bride had worked there previously and was friends with some of the managers. Great view from a hillside, valet parking, dance floor, the works. The important thing to remember here is valet parking.
At one point the best man (friend's brother) asked me to go grab his camera out of his truck's glove box. "Do you know which truck is mine?" he asks. Of course I did: it's a huge black pickup with a skull on the towhook. How many of those could there be? I went out into the parking lot, found said truck, opened the door (unlocked - remember, valet parking), found the camera in the glove box, and returned to the party.
About an hour later, the best man asked where his camera is. "It's over there, Nunya has it." I said.
"That's not my camera."
"Sure it is, I got it from that truck over there." (point)
"...I'm parked over there." (point to other side of parking lot).
Turns out there could possibly be multiple huge black pickups with skulls on the towhooks in the parking lot with a camera in the glove box that night. Eep.
I drunkenly Solid Snake my way across the parking lot, put the camera back in the glove box, and sneak back. I really wonder what happened when whoever owned that truck discovered an hour's worth of someone else's wedding party pictures on their camera later...
PSN: Wstfgl | GamerTag: An Evil Plan | Battle.net: FallenIdle#1970
Hit me up on BoardGameArena! User: Loaded D1
Haha yeah I know those moments, when you think to yourself "Ok ok calm down, nobody knows yet. You can fix this, you just need a plan..."
I tested positive for explosives once, gogo sniffer, but the guards didn't know what to do because the supervisor was on break. They sit around and scratch their collective asses for a while, while having all lanes closed. Understandably, a few of the several hundred people behind me got a little pissed and vocal, so the guards just shrugged and waved me through.
Inspires confidence, it does.
Couple years ago me and the gf take our first real holiday abroad, to canada (nice holiday actually, did enjoy it). So we're flying over on a plane, and they warn everyone who hasn't flown before about the sickbags, in case we need them. We demurred at first, as we felt fine, but the various effects of a fairly rapid descent on landing caused my gf to hurl all over her top, the seat, everything, just after we touch down. Not the best way to enter a new country, and we felt rather sheepish. I think next time we'll be better prepared, but man, not the smoothest entrance.
Incidentally, taking off was a VERY weird sensation. There's something distinctly odd about shooting up into the sky in a long metal tube with bigass engines sticking out on wings to either side.
Fortunately it doesn't affect me unless I do those things, and it doesn't seem to affect me on larger vehicles such as buses or planes.
I lived in halls for the first year of university and spent most of my time drunk. Opposite the door to our bathroom (which had 9 showers, plenty of toilets etc) was the linen-change for our section of the campus. It was only open once a week and packed out.
Now after a pretty heavy night out I manage to rouse myself from my bedroom, wrap a towel around my waist and head to the bathroom. I totally forgot it was the day of the linen change and rounded a corner to be greeted by hundreds of people.
I figure I don't really want to barge by everyone to get to the shower, and they're all looking at me anyway, so I turn to head back to my room. As I do the door to the kitchen (behind me) opens up and one of the lads I lived with ran by, grabbed my towel and bolted in to his room. I stood there angrily shouting at him.
Then it dawned on me I was stood there shouting at him without my towel in front of nearly 200 people. I walked back to my room with my head held low not looking at anyone.
PSN: SirGrinchX
Oculus Rift: Sir_Grinch
I get sick playing some video games...
Edit: Embarrassing TOTP
http://kotaku.com/5026052/mirrors-edge-motion-sickness
Doesn't seem that strange to me. I know HL2 had some issues with the airboat section.
It was -all- of HL2 for me. And Metroid Prime. And Dark Sector.
On the other hand, Prey? Never got sick. Same with Mirror's Edge, or any flight sim. I has to do with the viewing angle of the character, and any motion that the camera has. In Jedi Knight 2, you could get rid of motion sway, and change the viewing angle of the character. Doing both of those made it playable.
Also, third person shooters never give me issues.
That very nearly happened to me a year or two after 9/11 - I was on a weekend trip and I'd taken my cell phone but forgotten to pack the charger. So halfway through the weekend my phone dies and I don't think much of it (aside from, "oh crap, the charger is on the other side of the country"), until I'm going through security at the airport on the way back. They pull the phone out of my carry-on bag and ask me to turn it on. When I tell them that the battery is dead, the security guy says they'll have to confiscate it if I can't turn it on! Luckily it had just enough juice to get the 'Nokia' screen to pop up before it died again. Thank god my laptop was fully charged.
Hmm, just realized that's not particularly strange or embarassing. So how about this (freelancerbob's story reminded me of this one):
I used to work for a company where the boss would pick us up first thing in the morning on the way to the jobsite. I also rented a room in the basement of a house. Meaning I had to be outside waiting when the boss got there, because I couldn't hear the doorbell and had no way of knowing if anyone was at the door. So this one day I wake up and find to my horror that I've overslept by a considerable amount (like, an hour or so). No one is waiting for me outside, but who knows how long they waited before giving up. I frantically call the boss's cell phone but there's no answer. I'm panicked at this point so I do the only thing I can think of - grab my stuff and book it to the jobsite. Did I mention that I don't have a car? And the jobsite is in the neighbouring town?
Anyway, a solid half-hour of running my ass off in steel-toed boots, carrying water jug and backpack gets me to the jobsite, but to my surprise none of the crew is there. Wtf. So now I'm worried that I've somehow missed them and they're sitting outside my house waiting for me. Christ. So I run all the way back home again.
So I get home about two hours after I'm supposed to be picked up for work. Of course no one is there. My watch is right...it's not the weekend...what the hell is going on here? I dig up my boss's home phone number and try that...maybe his wife knows what's going on.
The phone rings. And rings. Finally my boss answers, groggily. I just woke him up. There was a power failure during the night that reset his alarm clock.