Everyone On This Board Has Died, This Means I Get to Be Emperor

Sweet. Good one.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Alex [/i]
[B]Hmm, skiing into a goat is better than skiing into a tree, you didn't snap it in two though, that would have been sticky and gross and fucking hilarious in retrospect.

I have to start doing drugs upon reading all these. Maybe then I can contribute to my idea for a coffee table pop up book based on drug induced hallucinations. I have a friend who tried Absinthe once, he said it was great, on his way home the flowers were singing to him and laughing at all his jokes. [/B][/QUOTE]

Goats are fucking strong animals. My Uncle has a pgmy goat farm and even those average 250-300 lbs. and have heads as hard as rock. One blindsided my Uncle during mating seaon. It sent him 10 ft forwards into and through this steel fence. He was sore and couldnt go into work for a few days.

I can tell you a story, prototype, if you want. It's not very good. But if chicks fighting floats your boat, you might like it.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by DoNotTrip [/i]
[B]I am blanking on my stories right now. My friends would be better tellers of my drunken exploits.

I remember one time when I was a lad, I was setting off fireworks in this guy's backyard. It was obviously trespassing, but we were kids and we did not give a shit. We were setting off M80s and the like as well as making chlorine bombs. We were having a grand old time until we hear a bang that is somewhat out of place. We turn around and the owner of the house is running out of his house shooting his shotgun in the air. I never ran so fast in all of my life. This crazy shithead chased us for what seemed like miles in the woods with his fucking shotgun. He kept yelling "After I shoot you fuckers, I am going to feed your balls to my dog." The strange thing was that we were laughing the entire time (probably out of fear). [/B][/QUOTE]

The best kind of laughter is that panicked, out-of-your-mind laughter you get when you are running through the woods after a bit of mischief. I live for that laughter.

Okay, with that kind of weird insistance, I will, Gucci. And I can't remember if I've told this before, so some of you might have heard it.

Okay, I, as many people on this board probably have also, went through a "fight club" period this winter. It was me and about 3 or 4 other girls, and we got our daily kicks out of punching each other in the upper arms, thighs, shoulders, backs. No real fighting. WELL, one day we decide it would be really, really cool if we took the obvious step forward and one of us got hit in the face. Amber didn't want to, as she had work that afternoon (pansy), and Florence was too scared, she said she'd go second if someone else went first.

So one day during lunch we were sitting around in the gym and going, "Should we do this? Let's go do this!" and so we headed off to the girls' bathroom and locked the door.

I rarely, if ever, will say this about another girl, but Florence is HOT. She's Filipino, with the accent and everything. Just to make the story a little more interesting, I guess. So I take off my glasses and hand them to Amber, and I tell Flo to hit me right next to my right eye. She, like a normal girl, is like "Oh no, I can't do this, blah blah." I'm up against the wall, flat-backed, so there isn't any neck-snapping action when/if she does hit me.

I don't completely remember the sequence of events right after that; I remember I tipped my head forward to look at Amber, who had cracked a joke or something, and then suddenly there was this big red ball of pain, in my face and in the back of my head (when I had leaned forward, I had caused her to miss; she hit my nose instead of the side of my face, and my head crashed back and hit the wall). It bled and bled and bled, all over the bathroom and my arms and face. It was the first time I ever had a bloody nose.

Needless to say, my nose cracked like an egg, but I couldn't go to the doctor because I couldn't tell my parents (I was able to keep it a secret with a lot of makeup and ice packs). So now I don't really breathe as well as I used to. I was pretty impressive looking there for a few weeks, bruises all over the fucking place, two black eyes, swollen nose. I know it was a retard thing to do, but I most likely would not take it back if I could.

Everyone got kind of freaked out after that, and we never did anymore fighting.

My suffering entertains me too, frankly. We laughed about it from the time it happened (February) until graduation.

Yeah, me and Emin have "played" Fight Club a couple of times. I hit Emin the nose and he almost started crying.
Haha.
But more frequently we play Cappucino, as I mentioned once a long time ago. Drink a lot of cappucinos, lattes, and coffee and then run around on a hill jumping and kicking the shit out of one another.

Dude, that sound fun. We should all get together and do that.

Jane: pricelesss. That, I think takes a tie with Gucci's as my favorite yet.

Suffering amuses, eh? My turn...

#8)When I was sixteen, I wasn't allowed to get anything pierced. I had my ears done twice, but always wore my hair down so my mom wouldn't see them. My new best friend had his tongue pierced and his nipples pierced. Best of all, I found out he'd gotten away with the nipple rings without his mother's knowledge for about a year. I hatched a plan.

I pierced my nipples that night with an old ear stud. It was surprisingly not painful. But there was no way in hell I was going to pierce my tongue myself. I needed more.

Another new friend of mine showed up the next day and said that she had just gotten her clitoral hood pierced, she said it increased the magnitude and frequency of orgasm immensely. I said, idly, that I wished there was some way to do that for guys. She said that scrotum piercings more or less do such a thing. Her ex-boyfriend then volunteered that he had one. I hatched another plan.

That night I took a safety pin to my nutsack. It didn't hurt when I pierced it the first time, and I thought it looked kind of cool. So I did it again. Three days later, I added a third. I waited for healing to finish up so I could test out my new uber-orgasm.

Two or so weeks later, I itched like hell. And I hadn't healed much. But I was used to it and expecting that these things take time. I went to my best friend's house to find that the ex-boyfriend with the piercing was sitting righ out in the open adjusting his barbell. I accidentally walked in on him.

"Dude," I said, "You put a [i]barbell[/i] through that?"
And he said "Yeah, what did you use? A hoop?"
"No."
"A spiral?"
"No."
"Then what?" He asked, balls still in hand.
"Safety pins."
"Dude," he said, "don't those rust?"

I excused myself to go finish some homework at my house.

I checked myself and sure enough, they were rusted. And scabbed in pretty good too. I struggled with them but they weren't coming out. So I hatched another plan.

I ran a bath. Hot water would soften up the rust (I was young...) and the scabs. While the water was running, I went downstairs to get a steak knife. My mom asked what I was doing, and I told her some gum was stuck in my carpet.

I took the bath, in fact, I sat in it for hours. Nothing changed. Those safety pins were lodged good, the hinges and clasps rusted or scabbed shut. So I had to go for plan B.

It's good to mention here that I did think about telling my mom and going to the hospital to have them removed. But I can't tell my mom I shoved something through my balls to get off harder. I just can't.

So I steady myself on my bed, put on Marilyn Manson's Portrait of An American Family, and place the knife in prying position between the sides of the pin. I count to three and pry. The first one hurts a bit but comes apart and I remove it.

The second one hurts a lot but comes apart too, so I take it out and breathe a sigh of relief that everything is going to be just fine.

The third one doesn't budge and hurts way, way worse. There's some blood by this time. I count to three again, and pull, the pin goes nowhere, but the skin is tearing quite a bit. I grit my teeth and realize that this fucking thing HAS to come out. I count again.

"One...two...three: FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!"

The pin came out in one piece, all three holes merging along the tear.

My mom comes sprinting up the stair and knocks, asking if I'm okay. I tell her "F-fine. Just singing along to the music..."

You could have put a #2 pencil through my scrotum after that.

[i]Post-script-But in the end, it healed just fine and you can't even see or feel a scar today. Thank fucking god.[/i]

oh right

Probably a good idea, Gucci.

Telling that story in person is always so rewarding as I get to watch the facial expressions of the audience.

I once made a kid tear up.

I can't even imagine that. Lucky me.

But thank you for liking my story, proto. I'll think of you when I'm an adult and am paying a doctor to have my nose re-broken and set.

Does it look noticably broken now?

What did your parents say when you came home?

No, it never looked noticably broken. And they never said a word. I wore heavy makeup every time they saw me for a month, even to bed. I think they must have known though, they were just kind of parentally denying it.

Today the only way you can tell is if you actually pinch my septum. One side is bigger than the other.

Lucky you.

wow Jane you've got some crazy secret lifestyle happening.. Happy church goer sunday morning, fight clubber with opinions about knives vs guns by night!
You just keep me guessing jane.. don't stop

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by The Gucci Ghost [/i]
[B]i once told everyone at my school the magical story of how my father caught my brother jerking off in the bathroom, and it pretty much did the exact same thing to him. theres nothing better than emotionally scarring those you love. [/B][/QUOTE]

Are you talking about sunshine on my nutsack?

these are like. .. fucking brilliant stories.

id love to add one, but im sure my tales pale in comparison.
or even, what the hell is the criteria exactly.

*still my new fave thread* ever.

Wes- add one, add one please. This is seriously awesome. The "qualifications" are in the first post. It's just stories that prove everyone is human, we're all idiots.

proto, "king of the speed people" should be your title.

Hey, I'm clean now.

But it used to be. There were a few people who referred to me as nothing but Skank, a la The Crow.

"Maybe if we record him and play it back in slow motion he'll make some sense..."

so much to reply to. i actually opened a word file, and copied and pasted so i could go through each page. jesus christ, this thread takes them all.

i think that "liquid words" should be the new Cult term for "Bullshit." i also think that the word "baldersnatch" should be liberally used henceforth.

mad props for the jhonen vasquez reference.

this is sort of like that one time i got REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLY stoned, and a great demon-headed angel came down from the sky and stood by the Fountain of Youth, explaining to me the meaning of life. unfortunately i wasn't able to transcribe or describe any of this, and all i kept saying for the whole night was, "you guys...this is IT!!!!"

this gets my nomination for best post ever out of the best thread ever.

i laughed so hard at this that i've been getting weird looks from the other people in the office (yes! my one day a week soon to be non job! whooo!!) ever since.

now THIS is something you don't hear every day. proto, you should say this line when you're standing behind people in line somewhere. friends of mine and i used to do this with the phrase, "so i SHOT the bitch."

OK. My story? Hmmm. The reliationship between one of my close friends and i had a rocky beginning. One night we were fighting in her car and she finally said, "get out."

i was like, "what?"

she was like "get the fuck out of my car. now."

so after overcoming my initial disbelief, i got out of the car and began the trek back to campus, and my dorm room. meanwhile she and my roommate (who was also in the car at the time) drove around looking for me, because immediately after i exited the vehicle, the one who threw me out of the car felt remorse. since i was so pissed off, i practically ran home, so they finally got home like an hour later, and were pissed off at me all over again when they found me there. i just folded my arms and said, "serves you fucking right." in retrospect, i should have hid somewhere and made them worry about me.

the first time i got drunk is another story, too.

Do tell.

i went to a party. i had drunk alcohol before, but had never been fully intoxicated. thus i had no judgement as far as how much to drink was too much. so it was at this girl's apt. i went with my bf who's not a big drinker. i'm sitting in this room with him and a couple people, shooting the shit, drinking a mike's hard lemonade, when the hostess of the party comes in with a strange looking drink in her hand. it was similar in color to beer, but not quite the same, and it didn't have a head on it, and she had ice in it, so i knew it wasn't beer, but it looked a lot like it, or maybe apple juice. i asked her what it was. she replied that it was amaretto and sprite, and immediately asked me if i wanted her to mix me one. i said sure, trying to be polite. i didn't know her too well, so i didn't know that she was completely cocked off her ass at the time (she wasn't really slurring or any telltale stuff, she was mostly acting weird, but like i said, i didn't know her too well).

she comes back with a yard glass.

a yard glass full of amaretto.

with a little pinch of sprite for color.

and being me, i drank the whole goddamn thing, all the while asking my boyfriend and his friends, "what the hell is amaretto?"

"it's liquor," they answered.

"i KNOW, but what KIND??" i kept asking.

"what do you mean?"

"like, jack daniel's is whiskey, bud light is beer, what's amaretto?"

"it's amaretto."

it was like one of those Nut-N-Honey commercials.

So another stiff yard glass and pint glass full of the stuff after that, the cops showed up at the party, so my bf and i took that as our cue to leave. as i sat down in the car, i felt this sudden woozy rush. it felt like i'd sat down too fast. "whoa," i said dumbly.

"Are you ok?" my bf asked me, several times on the way home.

"I don't know," I kept telling him.

finally we got to the parking lot where we had to park because umass is a shitty school and treats its students like redheaded stepchildren. it's easily half a mile from the dorm i was in. so we start walking. suddenly i found it very difficult to walk. "since when have all these fucking...rocks...been in the way down here?" i remarked of the gravelly parking lot surface. my bf gave me a weird look but we walked on.

we crossed the street, and then, lo and behold, we reached a bush. i became enamored of this bush. "can we sit down by this bush?" i asked my bf. he looked at me like i'd just sprouted a few spare heads, and then said, "no, we have to get back to your room."

"but it's so far, though!" i shouted, and then doubled over with laughter.

my bf managed to drag me over to the dorm building (me complaining all the while that it was so far and suggesting that we camp out there for the night). behind the building are a bunch of large rocks intended to keep people from parking in this one little strip behind the building.

"LOOK AT THOSE FUCKING ROCKS" i shouted. "THEY ARE ALL IN A FUCKING LINE."

suddenly it was astounding to me (and a bit irritating/funny) how everything was in a line. bricks were in lines, windows, the buttons on the elevator...but before we got to the elevator, i managed to sit down, refusing to budge, by the back door.

we went to the back door, which you can pretty much only get into when someone else is going out, because we wanted to avoid the front door, and security, and being written up by the dumbass RA for public drunkenness. as i sat on the little ledge outside the door, my boyfriend tried to explain to me that when the person we were waiting for came out of the door, he was going to hit me with the door.

"WHAT ARE YOU THE FUCKING DOOR NAZI??" i demanded.

somehow or other we got into the elevator, and up to my floor, and down the hall to my room (the doors all in a line were an obstacle i had to fight to overcome). finally we get to my room and i'm trying as hard as i can to stifle my laughter, as it has just occurred to me that i must look composed for my roommate (which is bullshit, b/c she and i are really close friends, and she was, frankly, waiting for the day when i'd remove the pole from my ass and get fucking drunk as is umass tradition). i managed to hold the resolve until the door swung open and i caught sight of the christmas lights we'd decorated our room with, which were, of course, in a line.

after a while i moved on to shapes. my roommate and i had a gay old time taking my sorry ass to the bathroom, as i began to notice, in a very loud tone at about 3 am in the middle of the hallway, that you always see circles in squares (i.e. the doorknob set in a door) but you never see squares in circles (a friend of mine after hearing this story named one of his creative projects square-in-circle productions, btw). we got to the bathroom where i managed to piss IN the toilet (quite the accomplishment for me that night), but all hell broke loose when it came time to get up, and i found myself, pants around the ankles, swinging like an orangutan from the top of the stall door. my roommate managed to get me cleaned up, and then we journeyed back to the room. on the way back, i noticed (or rather, remembered) that a hallmate had an ani difranco poster on her door. i began to pound on the door and scream about "loving ani" until my roommate dragged me away after quite a struggle.

back in the room, i began saying things like, "the fucking hebrews and the fucking chinese. they think they're so fucking different. why dont they get with it and write straight, left to right, side to side, like the rest of the fucking world? what the FUCK???" after a while my roommate told me that every time i changed topics of conversation i'd have to take a swallow of water (the better to stave off the massive hangover she knew was coming). i must've drank about a good two liters this way.

finally, lying in my bed, staring at the christmas lights, in the middle of a huge rant about god knows what, i screamed at my roommate, "HEATHER I HAVE TO GO TO BED!!!! I HAVE TO GO TO BED, HEATHER!!!"

ever the patient one, she replied, "you are in bed."

"I'M TELLING YOU" I shouted again, "THAT I HAVE TO GO TO FUCKING BED, RIGHT. THE FUCK. NOW."

and then i passed out.

it's too bad my bf and roommate were the only witnesses, cause i could've sold tickets to that.

My two year old nephew just pried my red shoes off my feet crying "elmo shoes, elmo shoes" Now he's wearing them, clopping around staring at his feet [i]whispering[/i] "elmo shoes...elmo shoes".

Sorry, didn't know where else to post this.

Kitty- the "I shot the bitch" reference reminds me of another.

#9) I'm sure everyone has seen that comedian on TV who does the things that get stuck in your head routine. He saw some girl one day who said "and I never would have gotten that far in college if ti wasn't for my horse..." and he never heard the end of the conversation so it drove him nuts. Same type of thing.

I was in a diner one night, a little drunk, so I was feeling loose. This was in the not so great part of the city. This guy is railing against something, pounding on the table and out of nowhere he stands up and launches his coffee cup at the head of the woman sitting across from him. He screams:

"NO, GODDAMN IT!! THAT'S WHEN I FOUND JESUS AND THE MILITIA!!!"

And then he runs outside. The girl followed him forthwith and I didn't get a chance to ask what the crap that was all about. Odds are good I'll never know. It bothers me still and that was almost five years ago.

So I got this idea to see if I could do that same thing to someone- become a creature just lurking in their memory, niggling away at them. I was walking in to a grocery store behind a morbidly obese woman when I turned to my roommate and said "Yeah, so even despite the lucky bamboo, that's when I won the moose in the raffle." I caught a turned head out of the corner of my eye.

About twenty minutes later a pudgy hand with fat little fingers grabs my shoulder and spins me. It's her. She says "What raffle did you win a moose in? I [i]have[/i] to know."

I backed off a bit and told her I wasn't at liberty to discuss that. Then I sort of ran.

So it worked. And I learned two things:

1) I can do anything I put my mind to.
2) The morbidly obese and psychotically persistent are quite scary.

i love tales of drunkenness

i will have to try and remember some of my drunken feats. some of them involve peeing where i shouldn't be peeing. some of them involve all sorts of singing. all of them involve me just making an ass out of myself

Kitty again- I have to say that "you always see circles in squares but never squares in circles" is going to win for Most Esoteric and Obscure Observation Ever, if there's an awards ceremony that rewards that type of thing.

Cute. In a decadent way. I love drinking stories. The first time I got drunk was on a friends birthday. We had gone out to a brasserie and apart from beer we had also ordered ouzo. But nobody else was drinking the stuff and I ended up downing the two pitchers by myself (for those not familiar with greek spirits, ouzo is quite strong stuff - about 40% or more). I was always a drinker and never drunk, so I figured I'd be ok. And I was. Completely sober, walking in perfectly straight line and all that. We then went to a really posh ice cream parlour for desserts. As soon as I sat down my head started spinning and the contents of my stomach demanded to go out to see what all the fuss is about. I spent the next hour in the bathroom puking my mother's milk up, all the while my friends pounding on the door and telling me to come out. I did and when I returned to our table two thoughts flashed through my brain in the same fraction of a second: 1) VOMIT! 2)WATER GLASS! Being too well-mannered to just throw up on the table, I grabbed a water glass and with perfect aim puked inside. I remember it in slow motion: me doing the technicolour yawn in the glass, my friends watching transfixed, someone clapping, the snob, shiny-shoed arrogant waiter going pale and looking at me as if I'm a cockroach. Finally he managed to suggest to my mates to 'take the young lady outside because the fresh air will do her good.' I believe he then proceeded to carve a voodoo doll of me (that would explain the next day...) As for me, I didn't show my face in that place for years and to this day I never drink from their glasses...

the person you're thinking of is lewis black. he is the shit.

[img]http://209.211.253.133/assets/images/comedians/lewis_black.jpg[/img]

the routine goes like this:

"...When from behind me, a young woman of about 25 said the dumbest thing I ever heard in my life until Dan Quayle was elected the Vice President. She said, 'If it weren't for my horse, I never would have spent that year in college'. Now let me repeat that, because it bears repeating. She said, 'if it weren't for my horse,' as in, giddy-up, giddy-up, let's go!, 'i never would have spent that year in college,' which is a degree-granting INSTITUTION. and i turned around to ask her, 'what do you mean by that,' and she was GONE.

"The American medical profession does not know why we get an aneurysm. An aneurysm is when a blood vessel bursts in your head for no apparent reason...there's a reason! You go to the mall one day with your friends, and somebody over there says the dumbest thing you've ever heard, and it goes--in your ear! ...it's like a Moebius strip in your head--it just goes over and over and over for seven days, that's all you think about, you don't KNOW you're thinking about it but your brain's going overtime, you think you're having dinner with your family, but what you're really doing is going, 'how did she get into college with the horse?' and at the end of the week they find you dead in your bathroom."

your experience with the militia thing definitely qualifies as this type of experience, proto.

thanks. *hic* *stumbles*

lupus, i admire your aim. also, "puking up my mother's milk" is almost as good as the phrase "shitting out my soul" to describe extreme excretion.

i love lewis black

Mighty fuck that's nasty.

And having been a waiter, I can say I wouldn't have waited to carve an effigy, I'd have carved you into an effigy.

Can a person be an effigy of themselves?

Drunk tales, eh?
#10) I'd always been the one beer drinker, just one beer and I'd stop. When I was 15 I got invited to this party that this moderately big band The Chesterfield Kings were throwing for Halloween. The lead singer or his girlfriend or someone was my best friend's cousin, so I got to go with him. I went dressed as a priest.

I had a beer. I had a second.

And then, somehow I was standing up, and everything was all shady and shifty. The room was vibrating and everything looked the way it did underwater. I was trying to light a cigarette and just couldn't. My friend, who hadn't done much drinking that night, came and lit it for me. He asked if I was okay. I said sure, why wouldn't I be? And he told me I had just finished my 11th pina colada.

For the record, this came as a complete shock to me. I don't even now remember drinking them, nor do I know where in the giant warehouse that this party was at did I get them made.

Did I make them myself? Maybe. I don't know.

But I assured him I was fine and went to sit down to ponder the new development. I took the butt end of someone's beer with me. I sat in a La-Z-Boy. The TV was playing a tape of old movie clips, looped. There were three clips, something about UFOs and the army and then something about the Three Stooges. But over and over and over again. It was so very postmodern it was dizzying.

The dizziness got to me, so I tucked my head under my arm into the side of the chair and promptly started to vomit. It wouldn't stop. I kept going, and going and going. Soon, it was running out onto my boot, so I decided it might be smart to switch to the other side of the chair. I did, a pulled up the cushion and started puking there too. I had worn gloves, which were now destroyed from this, so I took them off (still puking) and threw them somewhere.

Where I threw them was in the face of the guitar player. He was less than pleased about this, and then his chair. The entire party turned mutiny and said that they had watched me flood the recliner with my vomit. I swore that it was like that when I sat down.

Honestly, I didn't realize everyone had been watching me and not the TV. I swore again, that it was like that when I got there, then I charged the guitar player and punched him in the mouth screaming "how dare you insult my honor."

I was carried to the bathroom , my shirt was removed and I was placed on the floor by the toilet. It was all quite gentle- don't get the idea they were abusing me.

About thirty minutes later, I was told that I could come out if I was done, which again, I swore, I had never vomited. They took me to the front door, opened it so I could get some fresh air, lit me a cigarette and asked if they could get me something to wash the taste out of my mouth.

I asked for a pina colada.

And the guitarist knocked me out.

My friend took me home later.

"and I never would have gotten that far in college if it wasn't for my horse"

-- that would be the amazing Lewis Black, my personal hero

I just scrolled up and realized it's already been mentioned.

Damn.

Thanks. Aim deteriorated over the years though - the misfortunes of old age. Wonder if it is the equivalent of incontinence.

"I asked for a pina colada.

And the guitarist knocked me out."

sigworthy. also very poetic in a weird way.

Isn't it funny in a pathetic sort of way when people tell you you're steaming and you drunkenly insist you are not?

Hey, what happened? I am "Member" now. I quite liked being a "Junior Member". Hadn't realised it was a matter of posts. Damn.

Yes. Funny, but mostly pathetic.

And everyone does that.

Why, I couldn't tell you.

hahaha

you said "member"

yep, pretty soon you'll be celebrating 1000...sigh...

Yes, I did. Let me guess. It gave you a stiffy.

who told you?

I can read you know.

Member. Member. Member.
Do 'junior members' cause junior stiffies?

I believe the proper term for "junior stiffy" is a "Semi" as in semi-erection

So be it. Well?

i guess if the timing is right

No, a junior stiffy is when a tike (or a midget) gets an erection.

exactly why it must be referred to as a Semi

For those not "in the know," a Semi is when the penis fulls partly with, but there is plenty of more room for blood to cause a full-blown erection. A Semi is characterized as move towards erectionness, but it is sill floppy. There are different stages of Semi.