MichaelLCIn what furnace was thy brain?ChicagoRegistered Userregular
edited February 2008
Back in the day when Internet porn wasn't so availible, i.e. USR days, I actually ordered videos on 5 CDs to be delivered to me at my parents' house. Obviously the company promised they'd be all discreet & shit, so I wasn't worried.
Imagine my suprise two weeks later when my dad says, "Here, [our neighbors] got this the other day by mistake." And hands me a package that was partially opened. Awesome.
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WulfDisciple of TzeentchThe Void... (New Jersey)Registered Userregular
I think he means that he had been lookin at porn, possibly wankin' it, and it had been all caught on his roommate's web cam.
This.
The camera was understandable I suppose. He would sometimes be at the hospital for days at a time, and couldn't figure out who was stealing from him. We didn't know for months that K's sisters had keys to the house. Fucking cunts.
Seriously. Getting stuff stolen from you, especially repeatedly, is annoying as hell.
I can't remember if I ever posted this before, but I had a room-mate in college who was a total freak like this. So, to start off, this kid loved playing games. Played them on his TV, played them on his computer, played them on my TV, yadda yadda. He was the stereotype of single, spoiled child and would keep the volume cranked even at night when I was trying to sleep for my 8 AM classes. Its certainly fun to try and explain to your teacher the reason you couldn't concentrate on the course because your roommate loves GTA3 with godmode and police sirens blaring 'til 4 AM every night. This kid also wouldn't bathe in the dorm showers. He would wait until he went home. Sometimes it would be up to three weeks before he went home for the weekend. Yeah. Now this in and of itself wouldn't bother me too much BUT he also hated the window being open and loved the heater on full blast... even in the summer. The room pretty quickly ended up smelling like rotting meat for several week long stretches until he would go home and I could air the place out. Terrible BO, cleanliness habits and he had a nervous tick that he would constantly force air out of his nose with a huff noise... so, thats bad right?
Oh it gets worse.
Now he started getting paranoid after I asked him if he could please start turning his volume down and maybe shower once every few days. He set up a webcam and hid it under some clothes at the top of his computer, pointing at my side of the dorm and used some software that would cut it on and record when there was motion. It took me a week to notice, and even then it was lucky I even saw it as the light would only stay on for a few seconds after the lights in the room went out and I happened to be rushing to my computer to play a movie and enjoy my scant 'alone time'. Yeah, dude had been recording everything I did... I yanked the little fuckers (webcam) plug right out and left it inactive, and lodged a complaint with the RA (who was completely worthless as he cow-towed to this kid for some reason).
This was right around the time his parents came to visit him. Well, he had no friends so they all just hung out in the room. I spent the day out with my friends, so I had no idea his folks were there. So, when I came back I was greeted with five of the most ugly, 'what sort of creature is our son/grandson living with sort of looks' I've ever seen. Now it was getting a bit late, so I asked if they couldn't hang out and talk somewhere that wasn't on my bed as I wanted to hit the hay. They begrudgingly obliged and as they were walking out, the father did something that should have been a huge "Oh jesus hide all your stuff RIGHT NOW" signals. He sniffed me. Like I might have been the source of the terrible odor that emanated from my room-mates side of the dorm. Thinking far to little of it, I left the next morning to pop down to the huge mall about two hours away with my friends and didn't get back until 5ish. The room smelled... different. I put my coat on the hangar and went to sit at my computer and noted that the smell was Febreeze.
Now I am allergic to the stuff, makes my skin practically scab if I get sprayed with it. The bastards family had coated my computer with the stuff. They had taken the side off, sprayed it all over the motherboard, the HDDs, the DVD-R, everything! Outraged I picked up my keyboard, which dripped when I lifted it. I turned around and felt my bed. Wet. With. Febreeze. My clothes in the closet? Still damp. I'll admit, if he had been in the room I would have broken off every single one of his digits and shoved them in his mouth. I knew nobody would believe me if I didn't have proof, so I shoved my keyboard into a trashbag and taped it shut to keep the devil spray from evaporating out, stomped over to the RA's room and after a heated discussion, he mentioned "Yeah dude, his parents said you had to be the one who stinks so they asked if it would be okay to spray some stuff." I was livid. I went back to my room, grabbed my coat, the keyboard in the bag and started the two mile slog to the boat my parents happened to be living in on the far side of town. Took about a month, and showing the keyboard to the Dean (who didn't believe me until that point!), to get them to move him to another room. On the plus side I ended up getting the room to myself for the rest of the year.
Tl:dR; Room-mate makes my life a living hell from August til November
I think he means that he had been lookin at porn, possibly wankin' it, and it had been all caught on his roommate's web cam.
This.
The camera was understandable I suppose. He would sometimes be at the hospital for days at a time, and couldn't figure out who was stealing from him. We didn't know for months that K's sisters had keys to the house. Fucking cunts.
Seriously. Getting stuff stolen from you, especially repeatedly, is annoying as hell.
I can't remember if I ever posted this before, but I had a room-mate in college who was a total freak like this. So, to start off, this kid loved playing games. Played them on his TV, played them on his computer, played them on my TV, yadda yadda. He was the stereotype of single, spoiled child and would keep the volume cranked even at night when I was trying to sleep for my 8 AM classes. Its certainly fun to try and explain to your teacher the reason you couldn't concentrate on the course because your roommate loves GTA3 with godmode and police sirens blaring 'til 4 AM every night. This kid also wouldn't bathe in the dorm showers. He would wait until he went home. Sometimes it would be up to three weeks before he went home for the weekend. Yeah. Now this in and of itself wouldn't bother me too much BUT he also hated the window being open and loved the heater on full blast... even in the summer. The room pretty quickly ended up smelling like rotting meat for several week long stretches until he would go home and I could air the place out. Terrible BO, cleanliness habits and he had a nervous tick that he would constantly force air out of his nose with a huff noise... so, thats bad right?
Oh it gets worse.
Now he started getting paranoid after I asked him if he could please start turning his volume down and maybe shower once every few days. He set up a webcam and hid it under some clothes at the top of his computer, pointing at my side of the dorm and used some software that would cut it on and record when there was motion. It took me a week to notice, and even then it was lucky I even saw it as the light would only stay on for a few seconds after the lights in the room went out and I happened to be rushing to my computer to play a movie and enjoy my scant 'alone time'. Yeah, dude had been recording everything I did... I yanked the little fuckers (webcam) plug right out and left it inactive, and lodged a complaint with the RA (who was completely worthless as he cow-towed to this kid for some reason).
This was right around the time his parents came to visit him. Well, he had no friends so they all just hung out in the room. I spent the day out with my friends, so I had no idea his folks were there. So, when I came back I was greeted with five of the most ugly, 'what sort of creature is our son/grandson living with sort of looks' I've ever seen. Now it was getting a bit late, so I asked if they couldn't hang out and talk somewhere that wasn't on my bed as I wanted to hit the hay. They begrudgingly obliged and as they were walking out, the father did something that should have been a huge "Oh jesus hide all your stuff RIGHT NOW" signals. He sniffed me. Like I might have been the source of the terrible odor that emanated from my room-mates side of the dorm. Thinking far to little of it, I left the next morning to pop down to the huge mall about two hours away with my friends and didn't get back until 5ish. The room smelled... different. I put my coat on the hangar and went to sit at my computer and noted that the smell was Febreeze.
Now I am allergic to the stuff, makes my skin practically scab if I get sprayed with it. The bastards family had coated my computer with the stuff. They had taken the side off, sprayed it all over the motherboard, the HDDs, the DVD-R, everything! Outraged I picked up my keyboard, which dripped when I lifted it. I turned around and felt my bed. Wet. With. Febreeze. My clothes in the closet? Still damp. I'll admit, if he had been in the room I would have broken off every single one of his digits and shoved them in his mouth. I knew nobody would believe me if I didn't have proof, so I shoved my keyboard into a trashbag and taped it shut to keep the devil spray from evaporating out, stomped over to the RA's room and after a heated discussion, he mentioned "Yeah dude, his parents said you had to be the one who stinks so they asked if it would be okay to spray some stuff." I was livid. I went back to my room, grabbed my coat, the keyboard in the bag and started the two mile slog to the boat my parents happened to be living in on the far side of town. Took about a month, and showing the keyboard to the Dean (who didn't believe me until that point!), to get them to move him to another room. On the plus side I ended up getting the room to myself for the rest of the year.
Tl:dR; Room-mate makes my life a living hell from August til November
You, sir, are both far more patient, and far more of a doormat than I could ever be.
I'm trying to figure out how you would get someone pregnant using a tongue piercing.
I remember my cousin's daughter coming home from college this Christmas and I noticed she had one. It was then that I realized that "oh, no... our little girl [she's the only girl in her generation] gives blowjobs." When I commented about it privately, she started to tell me about other piercings and tattoos and I just listened kinda horrified and all. I mean, I know she's active, and she's quite attractive... but she's our little girl. The sad part is she was so excited that she had someone that she could talk about "things" with in the family. But... I don't wanna know any more.
Since porn-and-parents stories are the order of the day, here's one.
When I turned 18, I went to Waldenbooks and bought Penthouse because it was my "right of passage". (Along with driving to Louisiana and getting tanked, but that's another story.) My Penthouse came up missing within a couple of weeks. I had no idea who could have taken it... except for the one person who I know is enough of a bastard to do it. Sure enough, I went snooping in my dad's room, and turns out he had a stash of mags hidden all around the room... most of it pretty darn hardcore (Hustler and beyond). Including my Penthouse. Asshole stole my Penthouse. So, I stole another one from him that I hadn't read before. He took it back a week later. So, I went and stole another one. I left a note on it that said, "next time you steal one from me, I'm taking two." He left a note in its place and said, "try me, bad-ass." So, I took three. We had a "talk" after that where he explained that in his house, everything belongs to him regardless of who brings it in the house, and that I should divorce myself of the idea of having any personal property or personal privacy. I moved out after that... which was probably the intention all along.
Seriously. It's your civic duty to find that guy, go to where ever he's living when he's not there, and take a big steaming shit right on his pillow.
I'm reasonably convinced that the reason some of the bad shit that happens in the world is because the universe is imbalanced by this individual situation. You've got to balance the universe, man.
Seriously. It's your civic duty to find that guy, go to where ever he's living when he's not there, and take a big steaming shit right on his pillow.
I'm reasonably convinced that the reason some of the bad shit that happens in the world is because the universe is imbalanced by this individual situation. You've got to balance the universe, man.
Steam his sheets, Cleveland-style.
Why am I not surprised that you and I thought the exact same thing? While I was reading that story, I was thinking, "I'd have taken a horrible shit all over his bed and pillow."
Well, I'm probably the worst Quaker alive, since it really took all of my restraint not to deck the little bastard, full on Haymaker style.
You're a Quaker? Okay, that makes a lot more sense, then. And no, I'd say you're one of the best Quakers alive, given the plethora of things you could have/arguably should have done to him that you didn't.
Well, I'm probably the worst Quaker alive, since it really took all of my restraint not to deck the little bastard, full on Haymaker style.
You're a Quaker? Okay, that makes a lot more sense, then. And no, I'd say you're one of the best Quakers alive, given the plethora of things you could have/arguably should have done to him that you didn't.
Like, seriously, if that had been me, at the very least, his parents would have gotten the angriest phone call of their lives. It would have been my goal to make his mother cry, and I almost certainly would have succeeded.
Yeah, dude, I'm a Mennonite, so I know where you're coming from with the no confrontation thing, but once it got to the point where his parents ruined my computer, I would probably have written it off and bludgeoned him with it.
Also, WTF, heater in the summer? Where do you live that even works?
Well, at least she said "Don't get anybody pregnant." I can imagine that conversation could have easily become magnitudes more uncomfortable.
yeah, it's cool to see that she isn't completely naive, but usually after she says that she goes back to the "shouldn't have sex" tripe, so it's like a small breath of air before being pulled back under the waves again. And umm I think I might understand what your second post is going for, but not really.
t Thanatos - my barbel is actually a miniature penis.
METAzraeL on
dream a little dream or you could live a little dream
sleep forever if you wish to be a dreamer
The only sex related advice my mother gave me before I turned 18 was "Don't kiss boys." She's not a homophobe, per se. She just doesn't want me to be gay. Lucky for her, I love pussy. In fact, the next time she tells me to not kiss boys, my reaction may be blatantly saying "Don't worry, I love pussy." Just to see her shit herself.
Right, so it was pretty mortifying at the time, but now that I think about it, it's pretty damn funny.
So this happened sometime in October, I think (it's now February, and I don't think anyone really talks about it anymore). I live in residence (in an undisclosed university in Canada) with five suites per floor, each with their own single common room, and four rooms within those rooms... if that makes sense. Anyways.
So at that time I had just started dating a guy who lives across the hall from me (convenient, I know!). We'd been together for about a month, and we were pretty tight. I was at his place all the time. The guys he roomed with are huge party animals, so of course they always had lots of people over for parties. My boyfriend, however, isn't as much as a party animal as they are. He's actually pretty studious, and how he got put into a room with these guys is a complete mystery. Also, his roommates didn't pay much attention to me because I'm not tanned, or blonde. Anyways.
They had had enough of these parties (and I had navigated through them to get to my boyfriend's room enough times during these parties) for people (mostly comprised of snotty sorority girls and douche-y frat guys) to come to know me as "that one weird guy's girlfriend who's also kind of weird," simply because I'm not like them. This is relevant too, I promise.
So one night there's a party in my boyfriend's suite, and all these people (maybe 20 or so, it isn't a big room at all) we kind of don't like are there. There are a few cool people, like some of my roommates, who we chill with, and we basically keep to ourselves and laugh about ridiculous conversations we can't help but overhear. Things like "Omg I think I actually have, like, 20 pairs of jeans. I know right!"
So the boyfriend and I had decided that we'd be drinking tequila that night. I had just discovered its awesomeness, and so we were doing the whole salt-tequila-lime shot thing. Also, we had discovered these awesome tortilla chips that were guacamole-flavoured, and green. Really green. So there we were, happily munching away on these chips for a while, and shooting tequila like it wasn't no thang (I should mention that we were sitting down in front of a coffee table). After three shots in about half an hour, I was feeling kind of buzzed. All was fine and dandy until I downed my fourth one a bit too fast -- I swallowed a bunch of air with it, or something. For whatever reason, as soon as it was down, I knew it wasn't staying there for long. Here's how it happened, over the course of about five seconds or so.
- I shoot, swallow, bang the shot glass down on the table.
- I make what I can only imagine as a really funny-looking face, all contorted.
- One thought: "Oh shit."
- I suddenly remember there is a garbage can behind and to my left, which could be my salvation, and then
- I projectile-vomit green puke all over myself and the floor in front of me.
All of a sudden, these people who originally paid me no mind/went out of their way to ignore me, noticed me for the most horrible, horrible reason. Everyone in the room stops what they're doing and looks at me, stonefaced. I hear gasps, and "ohmigawd!"s all around me, and all I can do is stare at the floor in front of me, covered in bright green puke. I manage to choke out an "Um... oh my god. I am so sorry--" before some guy goes "Dude, that is fucking sick," and someone else said something like "Wow, had a few too many?" One guy even had the nerve to say to my boyfriend "Dude, if that was my girlfriend, I totally would have dumped her" when I was out of earshot.
As I mentioned, at this point I was buzzed. So it all seemed a lot more embarrassing/scary/serious than it actually was. I started to freak out on the inside and try to seem completely sober while cleaning it up. I got a little bit on myself, but most of it landed on the floor. Everyone crowded into someone else's room at lightning speed, so it was just me on the floor with paper towels cleaning my mess and my boyfriend trying to console me and calm me down by trying to convince me that it was actually pretty funny. At the time I was honestly mortified and couldn't be convinced ovtherwise, since I pretty much ruined any chance I had for a fresh start at University. But a day or two after I just kept joking about it, and realized that I really don't give a shit what any stupid people think, and now I think it's pretty damn hilarious. I started using it as a threat towards stupid bitches, like "Don't make me puke all over you."
Hah. I like that story. I think it's going to become my "Think THAT'S a stupid thing you did while drinking? Think again. Listen up" story.
Yeah, dude, I'm a Mennonite, so I know where you're coming from with the no confrontation thing, but once it got to the point where his parents ruined my computer, I would probably have written it off and bludgeoned him with it.
Also, WTF, heater in the summer? Where do you live that even works?
It was a built into the wall electric heater that had two settings "Off" and "Surface of the Sun".
As for the computer, the Febreeze had evaporated off the components and after some serious cleaning it all worked okay (I was thankful that I noticed it was sprayed before I flipped it on). It is almost comical, looking back on it, but at the time I was literally quivering with rage.
Yeah, dude, I'm a Mennonite, so I know where you're coming from with the no confrontation thing, but once it got to the point where his parents ruined my computer, I would probably have written it off and bludgeoned him with it.
Also, WTF, heater in the summer? Where do you live that even works?
It was a built into the wall electric heater that had two settings "Off" and "Surface of the Sun".
As for the computer, the Febreeze had evaporated off the components and after some serious cleaning it all worked okay (I was thankful that I noticed it was sprayed before I flipped it on). It is almost comical, looking back on it, but at the time I was literally quivering with rage.
And I think that's understandably so. If someone caked my room with Febreeze because they thought I was stinking up their son's dormroom when it fact it was their own son, I'd reach critical mass.
I don't really think being a pacifist means you have to be a doormat to jerks. Standing up for yourself shouldn't be morally wrong. In your case, you should have written a long letter to the parents, detailing how bad your roommate was, at least to set the record right.
I don't really think being a pacifist means you have to be a doormat to jerks. Standing up for yourself shouldn't be morally wrong. In your case, you should have written a long letter to the parents, detailing how bad your roommate was, at least to set the record right.
He did go to the RA twice and to the Dean. I don't think he's a doormat at all.
There are procedures you have to follow. My solution of shitting on his bed or pitching him out the window probably would've been frowned upon, whereas his attempts at conflict resolution establish a paper trail making it easier to take official action.
This is why I'll never attempt to buy a DVD from a high street market again.
A friend wanted "A History of Violence" on DVD for his birthday, it was when it had only just come out and was £15 in the stores, walking through a market one day I figured I'd try and get it cheaper there.
I asked the guy at the stall if they had it because I couldn't find it anywhere, and he just looked at me all horrified, "No, no of course I haven't" I though it was weird, he wouldn't meet my eye line so I asked, "You sure, mate?" Trying to be as polite as possible. But he didn't want to answer, just shook his head and turned away in disbelief. I thought it was odd, but whatever, market stall folk are just strange I guess.
Wasn't until about half an hour later that I remembered how I asked the question, "Excuse me, do you have a history of violence?"
Oh, just... Godammit. Can't imagine what was going through that guys head when I was pressing him for an answer...
There's a certain level of issues you're supposed to be able to solve on your own with your roommate. "Only showers on the weekends" is well beyond that level. For fuck's sake, you're supposed to be his roommate, not his mother.
When I was about seven years old, my father took me out fishing. Having just learned the tricky bits about fishing, like how to put a worm on a hook and how to take a fish off it, I was eager to put my new skills into practise. So we're out there on this boat, at about five in the morning, and I am the first person to catch a fish.
My father offers to help me get the fish off the hook, since it is quite the large sunfish (note to non-fishers: that's sarcasm. Sunfish are teeny things.), however I decline. To properly take a fish off the hook, you grab it in one hand, making sure you smooth down the spines, then keep a firm grip while you use the other hand to de-hook the fish.
Well, I guess my grip wasn't so tight, because the fish squirmed, got a little room, and spined me. I freaked, dropped the fish, and stood up in a hurry, since the rapidly-falling fish was falling straight at my crotch. This wily fish however, had planned his trajectory perfectly, and when I was standing there in the boat, the fish was hanging between my legs, hooked by the very bottom of my swimsuit.
This is bad enough, but this where this story hits the "classic" phase. My father - bless his heart - rather than coming over, calmly de-hooking the fish, and having a proper laugh around the campfire later, reaches into the water-tight bag he's brought on-board and pulls out his brand-new video camera.
"Say, Dan. Why don't you tell the folks back home what's going on?" he says, doing his best Johnny Carson.
I'm in tears. "A FISH!"
"What about that fish, Dan?"
"HE'S STUCK ON ME! HE'S STUCK ON MY CRAAAAWTCH!"
"And how do you feel about that, Dan?"
"DAD GET IT OFF GET IT OFF AAAAAAUGH"
This proceeded in this way for the next few minutes, and this film has been a favourite since. Well, it was for a while. We can't seem to find it any more. (Which in my mind translates into: "We sent it into America's Funniest Home Videos, won and didn't tell you, and now we no longer have the copyright to show it any more.")
Wasn't until about half an hour later that I remembered how I asked the question, "Excuse me, do you have a history of violence?"
Oh, just... Godammit. Can't imagine what was going through that guys head when I was pressing him for an answer...
Haha. Your story trumps mine but I've been on the receiving end of two similar questions right in a row from my "physician" i.e. whatever doctor was free that day.
Him: So what do you do when you're not busy at work?
Me : Oh I like to watch movies, play video games, surf the net, that type of thing.
Him : AT WORK?!
Me : *realizes that even if I had understood his question, what the fuck did he care? ironically, with the exception of watching movies, it would have been the same list anyway*
Him : Have you had any recent surgery?
Me : Yes, I got a cyst removed last year.
Him : Oh? Where did you get that done?
Me : At the doctor's office in my hometown.
Him : No I mean where on your body?
Me : Is there someone else I can talk to?
Seriously was this his first history or what? I refuse to believe the manner in which he asked questions hadn't caused multitudes of confusion among his likely dwindling list of patients.
Wasn't until about half an hour later that I remembered how I asked the question, "Excuse me, do you have a history of violence?"
Oh, just... Godammit. Can't imagine what was going through that guys head when I was pressing him for an answer...
Haha. Your story trumps mine but I've been on the receiving end of two similar questions right in a row from my "physician" i.e. whatever doctor was free that day.
Him: So what do you do when you're not busy at work?
Me : Oh I like to watch movies, play video games, surf the net, that type of thing.
Him : AT WORK?!
Me : *realizes that even if I had understood his question, what the fuck did he care? ironically, with the exception of watching movies, it would have been the same list anyway*
Him : Have you had any recent surgery?
Me : Yes, I got a cyst removed last year.
Him : Oh? Where did you get that done?
Me : At the doctor's office in my hometown.
Him : No I mean where on your body?
Me : Is there someone else I can talk to?
Seriously was this his first history or what? I refuse to believe the manner in which he asked questions hadn't caused multitudes of confusion among his likely dwindling list of patients.
See, when he asked you where you had your surgery, I immediately thought where on your body. Just seems like that would be the logical question the doctor would ask.
Wasn't until about half an hour later that I remembered how I asked the question, "Excuse me, do you have a history of violence?"
Oh, just... Godammit. Can't imagine what was going through that guys head when I was pressing him for an answer...
Haha. Your story trumps mine but I've been on the receiving end of two similar questions right in a row from my "physician" i.e. whatever doctor was free that day.
Him: So what do you do when you're not busy at work?
Me : Oh I like to watch movies, play video games, surf the net, that type of thing.
Him : AT WORK?!
Me : *realizes that even if I had understood his question, what the fuck did he care? ironically, with the exception of watching movies, it would have been the same list anyway*
Him : Have you had any recent surgery?
Me : Yes, I got a cyst removed last year.
Him : Oh? Where did you get that done?
Me : At the doctor's office in my hometown.
Him : No I mean where on your body?
Me : Is there someone else I can talk to?
Seriously was this his first history or what? I refuse to believe the manner in which he asked questions hadn't caused multitudes of confusion among his likely dwindling list of patients.
See, when he asked you where you had your surgery, I immediately thought where on your body. Just seems like that would be the logical question the doctor would ask.
Same here. I may have interpreted it as asking which office or something, but I would have apologized for misunderstanding him, not just assume the guy who spent years in medical school was an idiot.
My roommate and I just met for lunch at a Chinese buffet. We were eating and chatting. One of the women seated at a table behind us very audibly said "Gracias!"
o_O
We hypothesized for several minutes, checked to see if she was Hispanic (she was not), and couldn't come up with any reasonable context where that made any sense at all.
Todays embarassing moment: getting played like a fiddle by a dumbass wannabe conman who you see every day (and know he's criminal scum) but momentarily forget what he looks like and allow him to sneak behind the counter and steal your cellphone.
Toxic ToysAre you really taking my advice?Really?Registered Userregular
edited February 2008
Well I have another story to share.
When I was a teenager, my mother bought me a box of condoms. She pull me aside and gave them to me. Giving me a whole speach about how she doesn't like that I'm having sex with my girlfriend but wants me to be safe. And if I needed more, she would get them for me. She was really cool about it, for a mom I guess.
It was a little odd at the time, and I would have not have thought twice about it until I saw the box. It wasn't a single pack, or even a 3 pack. She bought me a 20 pack of condoms.
A 20 pack. I just kinda of looked at her and promised I would used them every time. I put them in a bowl on my headboard so I could just grab one when needed.
The embarassing part is was when I asked her if she could buy me another box. It was only a month later. The shocked/angery look on her face made me feel bad. But she did. My mom is awesome.
Toxic Toys on
3DS code: 2938-6074-2306, Nintendo Network ID: ToxicToys, PSN: zutto
Me too. I also say Nyet even though I'm not Russian.
Corlis on
But I don't mind, as long as there's a bed beneath the stars that shine,
I'll be fine, just give me a minute, a man's got a limit, I can't get a life if my heart's not in it.
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Imagine my suprise two weeks later when my dad says, "Here, [our neighbors] got this the other day by mistake." And hands me a package that was partially opened. Awesome.
I can't remember if I ever posted this before, but I had a room-mate in college who was a total freak like this. So, to start off, this kid loved playing games. Played them on his TV, played them on his computer, played them on my TV, yadda yadda. He was the stereotype of single, spoiled child and would keep the volume cranked even at night when I was trying to sleep for my 8 AM classes. Its certainly fun to try and explain to your teacher the reason you couldn't concentrate on the course because your roommate loves GTA3 with godmode and police sirens blaring 'til 4 AM every night. This kid also wouldn't bathe in the dorm showers. He would wait until he went home. Sometimes it would be up to three weeks before he went home for the weekend. Yeah. Now this in and of itself wouldn't bother me too much BUT he also hated the window being open and loved the heater on full blast... even in the summer. The room pretty quickly ended up smelling like rotting meat for several week long stretches until he would go home and I could air the place out. Terrible BO, cleanliness habits and he had a nervous tick that he would constantly force air out of his nose with a huff noise... so, thats bad right?
Oh it gets worse.
Now he started getting paranoid after I asked him if he could please start turning his volume down and maybe shower once every few days. He set up a webcam and hid it under some clothes at the top of his computer, pointing at my side of the dorm and used some software that would cut it on and record when there was motion. It took me a week to notice, and even then it was lucky I even saw it as the light would only stay on for a few seconds after the lights in the room went out and I happened to be rushing to my computer to play a movie and enjoy my scant 'alone time'. Yeah, dude had been recording everything I did... I yanked the little fuckers (webcam) plug right out and left it inactive, and lodged a complaint with the RA (who was completely worthless as he cow-towed to this kid for some reason).
This was right around the time his parents came to visit him. Well, he had no friends so they all just hung out in the room. I spent the day out with my friends, so I had no idea his folks were there. So, when I came back I was greeted with five of the most ugly, 'what sort of creature is our son/grandson living with sort of looks' I've ever seen. Now it was getting a bit late, so I asked if they couldn't hang out and talk somewhere that wasn't on my bed as I wanted to hit the hay. They begrudgingly obliged and as they were walking out, the father did something that should have been a huge "Oh jesus hide all your stuff RIGHT NOW" signals. He sniffed me. Like I might have been the source of the terrible odor that emanated from my room-mates side of the dorm. Thinking far to little of it, I left the next morning to pop down to the huge mall about two hours away with my friends and didn't get back until 5ish. The room smelled... different. I put my coat on the hangar and went to sit at my computer and noted that the smell was Febreeze.
Now I am allergic to the stuff, makes my skin practically scab if I get sprayed with it. The bastards family had coated my computer with the stuff. They had taken the side off, sprayed it all over the motherboard, the HDDs, the DVD-R, everything! Outraged I picked up my keyboard, which dripped when I lifted it. I turned around and felt my bed. Wet. With. Febreeze. My clothes in the closet? Still damp. I'll admit, if he had been in the room I would have broken off every single one of his digits and shoved them in his mouth. I knew nobody would believe me if I didn't have proof, so I shoved my keyboard into a trashbag and taped it shut to keep the devil spray from evaporating out, stomped over to the RA's room and after a heated discussion, he mentioned "Yeah dude, his parents said you had to be the one who stinks so they asked if it would be okay to spray some stuff." I was livid. I went back to my room, grabbed my coat, the keyboard in the bag and started the two mile slog to the boat my parents happened to be living in on the far side of town. Took about a month, and showing the keyboard to the Dean (who didn't believe me until that point!), to get them to move him to another room. On the plus side I ended up getting the room to myself for the rest of the year.
Tl:dR; Room-mate makes my life a living hell from August til November
When I turned 18, I went to Waldenbooks and bought Penthouse because it was my "right of passage". (Along with driving to Louisiana and getting tanked, but that's another story.) My Penthouse came up missing within a couple of weeks. I had no idea who could have taken it... except for the one person who I know is enough of a bastard to do it. Sure enough, I went snooping in my dad's room, and turns out he had a stash of mags hidden all around the room... most of it pretty darn hardcore (Hustler and beyond). Including my Penthouse. Asshole stole my Penthouse. So, I stole another one from him that I hadn't read before. He took it back a week later. So, I went and stole another one. I left a note on it that said, "next time you steal one from me, I'm taking two." He left a note in its place and said, "try me, bad-ass." So, I took three. We had a "talk" after that where he explained that in his house, everything belongs to him regardless of who brings it in the house, and that I should divorce myself of the idea of having any personal property or personal privacy. I moved out after that... which was probably the intention all along.
Fucker.
Seriously. It's your civic duty to find that guy, go to where ever he's living when he's not there, and take a big steaming shit right on his pillow.
I'm reasonably convinced that the reason some of the bad shit that happens in the world is because the universe is imbalanced by this individual situation. You've got to balance the universe, man.
Steam his sheets, Cleveland-style.
Why am I not surprised that you and I thought the exact same thing? While I was reading that story, I was thinking, "I'd have taken a horrible shit all over his bed and pillow."
XBL : lJesse Custerl | MWO: Jesse Custer | Best vid ever. | 2nd best vid ever.
Also, WTF, heater in the summer? Where do you live that even works?
t Thanatos - my barbel is actually a miniature penis.
dream a little dream or you could live a little dream
sleep forever if you wish to be a dreamer
So this happened sometime in October, I think (it's now February, and I don't think anyone really talks about it anymore). I live in residence (in an undisclosed university in Canada) with five suites per floor, each with their own single common room, and four rooms within those rooms... if that makes sense. Anyways.
So at that time I had just started dating a guy who lives across the hall from me (convenient, I know!). We'd been together for about a month, and we were pretty tight. I was at his place all the time. The guys he roomed with are huge party animals, so of course they always had lots of people over for parties. My boyfriend, however, isn't as much as a party animal as they are. He's actually pretty studious, and how he got put into a room with these guys is a complete mystery. Also, his roommates didn't pay much attention to me because I'm not tanned, or blonde. Anyways.
They had had enough of these parties (and I had navigated through them to get to my boyfriend's room enough times during these parties) for people (mostly comprised of snotty sorority girls and douche-y frat guys) to come to know me as "that one weird guy's girlfriend who's also kind of weird," simply because I'm not like them. This is relevant too, I promise.
So one night there's a party in my boyfriend's suite, and all these people (maybe 20 or so, it isn't a big room at all) we kind of don't like are there. There are a few cool people, like some of my roommates, who we chill with, and we basically keep to ourselves and laugh about ridiculous conversations we can't help but overhear. Things like "Omg I think I actually have, like, 20 pairs of jeans. I know right!"
So the boyfriend and I had decided that we'd be drinking tequila that night. I had just discovered its awesomeness, and so we were doing the whole salt-tequila-lime shot thing. Also, we had discovered these awesome tortilla chips that were guacamole-flavoured, and green. Really green. So there we were, happily munching away on these chips for a while, and shooting tequila like it wasn't no thang (I should mention that we were sitting down in front of a coffee table). After three shots in about half an hour, I was feeling kind of buzzed. All was fine and dandy until I downed my fourth one a bit too fast -- I swallowed a bunch of air with it, or something. For whatever reason, as soon as it was down, I knew it wasn't staying there for long. Here's how it happened, over the course of about five seconds or so.
- I shoot, swallow, bang the shot glass down on the table.
- I make what I can only imagine as a really funny-looking face, all contorted.
- One thought: "Oh shit."
- I suddenly remember there is a garbage can behind and to my left, which could be my salvation, and then
- I projectile-vomit green puke all over myself and the floor in front of me.
All of a sudden, these people who originally paid me no mind/went out of their way to ignore me, noticed me for the most horrible, horrible reason. Everyone in the room stops what they're doing and looks at me, stonefaced. I hear gasps, and "ohmigawd!"s all around me, and all I can do is stare at the floor in front of me, covered in bright green puke. I manage to choke out an "Um... oh my god. I am so sorry--" before some guy goes "Dude, that is fucking sick," and someone else said something like "Wow, had a few too many?" One guy even had the nerve to say to my boyfriend "Dude, if that was my girlfriend, I totally would have dumped her" when I was out of earshot.
As I mentioned, at this point I was buzzed. So it all seemed a lot more embarrassing/scary/serious than it actually was. I started to freak out on the inside and try to seem completely sober while cleaning it up. I got a little bit on myself, but most of it landed on the floor. Everyone crowded into someone else's room at lightning speed, so it was just me on the floor with paper towels cleaning my mess and my boyfriend trying to console me and calm me down by trying to convince me that it was actually pretty funny. At the time I was honestly mortified and couldn't be convinced ovtherwise, since I pretty much ruined any chance I had for a fresh start at University. But a day or two after I just kept joking about it, and realized that I really don't give a shit what any stupid people think, and now I think it's pretty damn hilarious. I started using it as a threat towards stupid bitches, like "Don't make me puke all over you."
Hah. I like that story. I think it's going to become my "Think THAT'S a stupid thing you did while drinking? Think again. Listen up" story.
I would have dumped him right there.
STEAM
LOLZORZ. Maybe I should reconsider the integrity of our relationship.
It was a built into the wall electric heater that had two settings "Off" and "Surface of the Sun".
As for the computer, the Febreeze had evaporated off the components and after some serious cleaning it all worked okay (I was thankful that I noticed it was sprayed before I flipped it on). It is almost comical, looking back on it, but at the time I was literally quivering with rage.
And I think that's understandably so. If someone caked my room with Febreeze because they thought I was stinking up their son's dormroom when it fact it was their own son, I'd reach critical mass.
Dirty roommates are the worst.
I would have broken out the hose long before it even got to that point.
He did go to the RA twice and to the Dean. I don't think he's a doormat at all.
What a set of balls on him.
XBL : lJesse Custerl | MWO: Jesse Custer | Best vid ever. | 2nd best vid ever.
A friend wanted "A History of Violence" on DVD for his birthday, it was when it had only just come out and was £15 in the stores, walking through a market one day I figured I'd try and get it cheaper there.
I asked the guy at the stall if they had it because I couldn't find it anywhere, and he just looked at me all horrified, "No, no of course I haven't" I though it was weird, he wouldn't meet my eye line so I asked, "You sure, mate?" Trying to be as polite as possible. But he didn't want to answer, just shook his head and turned away in disbelief. I thought it was odd, but whatever, market stall folk are just strange I guess.
Wasn't until about half an hour later that I remembered how I asked the question, "Excuse me, do you have a history of violence?"
Oh, just... Godammit. Can't imagine what was going through that guys head when I was pressing him for an answer...
When I was about seven years old, my father took me out fishing. Having just learned the tricky bits about fishing, like how to put a worm on a hook and how to take a fish off it, I was eager to put my new skills into practise. So we're out there on this boat, at about five in the morning, and I am the first person to catch a fish.
My father offers to help me get the fish off the hook, since it is quite the large sunfish (note to non-fishers: that's sarcasm. Sunfish are teeny things.), however I decline. To properly take a fish off the hook, you grab it in one hand, making sure you smooth down the spines, then keep a firm grip while you use the other hand to de-hook the fish.
Well, I guess my grip wasn't so tight, because the fish squirmed, got a little room, and spined me. I freaked, dropped the fish, and stood up in a hurry, since the rapidly-falling fish was falling straight at my crotch. This wily fish however, had planned his trajectory perfectly, and when I was standing there in the boat, the fish was hanging between my legs, hooked by the very bottom of my swimsuit.
This is bad enough, but this where this story hits the "classic" phase. My father - bless his heart - rather than coming over, calmly de-hooking the fish, and having a proper laugh around the campfire later, reaches into the water-tight bag he's brought on-board and pulls out his brand-new video camera.
"Say, Dan. Why don't you tell the folks back home what's going on?" he says, doing his best Johnny Carson.
I'm in tears. "A FISH!"
"What about that fish, Dan?"
"HE'S STUCK ON ME! HE'S STUCK ON MY CRAAAAWTCH!"
"And how do you feel about that, Dan?"
"DAD GET IT OFF GET IT OFF AAAAAAUGH"
This proceeded in this way for the next few minutes, and this film has been a favourite since. Well, it was for a while. We can't seem to find it any more. (Which in my mind translates into: "We sent it into America's Funniest Home Videos, won and didn't tell you, and now we no longer have the copyright to show it any more.")
Haha. Your story trumps mine but I've been on the receiving end of two similar questions right in a row from my "physician" i.e. whatever doctor was free that day.
Him: So what do you do when you're not busy at work?
Me : Oh I like to watch movies, play video games, surf the net, that type of thing.
Him : AT WORK?!
Me : *realizes that even if I had understood his question, what the fuck did he care? ironically, with the exception of watching movies, it would have been the same list anyway*
Him : Have you had any recent surgery?
Me : Yes, I got a cyst removed last year.
Him : Oh? Where did you get that done?
Me : At the doctor's office in my hometown.
Him : No I mean where on your body?
Me : Is there someone else I can talk to?
Seriously was this his first history or what? I refuse to believe the manner in which he asked questions hadn't caused multitudes of confusion among his likely dwindling list of patients.
Man, that whole story, I was waiting for you to freak out, flip the boat, and ruin your dad's brand new video camera.
Still a good story though.
But nah, my Dad's cool. I like to think that I'd have done the same damn thing.
See, when he asked you where you had your surgery, I immediately thought where on your body. Just seems like that would be the logical question the doctor would ask.
Same here. I may have interpreted it as asking which office or something, but I would have apologized for misunderstanding him, not just assume the guy who spent years in medical school was an idiot.
My roommate and I just met for lunch at a Chinese buffet. We were eating and chatting. One of the women seated at a table behind us very audibly said "Gracias!"
o_O
We hypothesized for several minutes, checked to see if she was Hispanic (she was not), and couldn't come up with any reasonable context where that made any sense at all.
At a Chinese buffet?
Damnit.
STEAM
When I was a teenager, my mother bought me a box of condoms. She pull me aside and gave them to me. Giving me a whole speach about how she doesn't like that I'm having sex with my girlfriend but wants me to be safe. And if I needed more, she would get them for me. She was really cool about it, for a mom I guess.
It was a little odd at the time, and I would have not have thought twice about it until I saw the box. It wasn't a single pack, or even a 3 pack. She bought me a 20 pack of condoms.
A 20 pack. I just kinda of looked at her and promised I would used them every time. I put them in a bowl on my headboard so I could just grab one when needed.
The embarassing part is was when I asked her if she could buy me another box. It was only a month later. The shocked/angery look on her face made me feel bad. But she did. My mom is awesome.
I'll be fine, just give me a minute, a man's got a limit, I can't get a life if my heart's not in it.