Humiliation.

i dont really have any really embarassing moments but i guess it would have to be in 1st grade i was sitting at my desk and i threw up everywhere and i didnt even feel sick. Damn school food

that sucks. don't eat the fish sticks, man.

pee-peee lol lol

what?

i have vomited at inoportune times

"theyre fun to stick your pee-pee in"
wholly shit i laughed so hard at that

well when you get done laughing, share an embarrassing moment of your own. no fair laughing at my expense if you can't return the favor.

i'm a clutz. i'm constantly doing stuff that would really embarrass the average person, but since it happens all the time, it's almost second nature. once i managed to wrap the cord from my cd player to the headphones around a pole on the t, and when i tried to walk away, it yanked me back. everyone watched this happen, and because i couldn't get it untangled in time, i missed my stop. i'm always tripping over something, and i usually end up falling. in my 7th grade science class, we went for a hike and had to cross this little stream, and guess who fell in... that really sucked because i had to finish the hike soaking wet. these incidents i can usually just brush off, but a really humiliating moment was when i tripped going up the bleachers at fenway park, and they captured the magic moment on the teletron. i was 1/2 expecting my sorry ass to show up on sportscenter, but either they missed it, or felt sorry for me and didn't show it, thank god.

Not too much in the embarrassing department, but a few in the probably should be embarrassing department. Sometimes I just make stuff up when I'm asked about this. I'll get embarrassed over stupid little stuff, but not the big stuff, probably because I've got a friend who does something stupid on a daily basis so it just seems natural. Anyway, story time. This is the best I can do right now. I was visiting a friend in SLC a short time ago and we decided to go up into the hills on the east side and just get a view of the city from on high. We get up there and people are piling out of a few different cars. Everybody manages fine except me. I take one step out of the car and boom, righ into the only mud puddle in the state of Utah, assuming you're leaving out the great salt lake. And this sucker was deep too. It nearly came up to the middle of my calf. This being an SLC mud puddle, it was MUD, red clay style. So we went to a few more places that evening, my right foot caked in red mud. Wasn't exactly my idea of fun.

rents your story reminded me of a time when i was moving into my dorm room back in college (back in college!! i still can't stop saying it!!!); there was a steep hill and it was wet out, and i fell, cartoon style, legs up in the air over my head, and came down on my ass in an icy mud puddle. my friends laughed about it for days.

More inappropriate than humiliating, although it did make things awkward later... years ago, basically having just broken up with a woman and feeling a bit out-of-sorts I took to a bottle of alcohol like a fly to steaming dookie. This led to a 3 day binge which ended in me calling my boss at the time, a married older woman, going off on all kinds of stuff like how I wasn't getting paid enough how she was constantly checking me out and making passes at me, and really I was so drunk I didn't even care if I made sense or not, and talked about how she was such a cocktease, etc... and for the life of me, I only remember the bad parts of the conversation which should have gotten me canned but oddly enough I showed the following workday to get my shit, and it was business as usual as if I had never made the call at all and I wondered what was up. So I go back to my routine, and next paycheck comes and I had been given a pay raise, and my boss lady seemed to become even more candid with her conversation and some inappropriate action perhaps that her husband the vice-president might not have been too keen on, but in the end it all worked out well, in a wierd sort of way, and it really changed a lot about how I deal with people since then, like sometimes it kind of pays to be a psychotic rambling hard-headed know-it-all who's not afraid to say what's on his mind even if it means fucking up everything in the process cause it doesn't always have to be a sad ending... but I'll tell ya, I was humiliated the next day I went back to work, but that went away when the rewards started trickling in... positive reinforcement of negative behavior sure changes the way you see the world... and sex and people in general...

gucci, i am so miffed that you got to those kitty avatars before me.

Me? Lucky? Hell, you're the lucky one with your 20% teh gay-cat-in-a-tie pic. I feel cheated... speaking of which, ever seen the sodomy part of Woody Allen's 'Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex.... But Were Afraid To Ask'? Baa. Baa. 'Black' Sheep.

tuffy are you serious?! cause if you are that SUCKS

have not seen Fast Times @ Ridgemont High (yeh i know i gotta see it yadda yadda)......please explain tuffy! if it's not a TOO painful memory

yes, same here.

Reinhold gets caught jerking off in the bathroom while fantasizing about Phoebe cates emerging topless from a swimming pool with a Cars song playing... classic... almost forgot... Cars song... "Moving In Stereo", and Reinhold wearing silly fast-food fish n' chips-style job clothes with pirate/swashbuckler theme in usual drab brownish coloring...

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH i remember now.

fuck off w/ the bullshit, i know where you got them. i just don't want to look like a follower. lol.

In the interest of science and to stimulate certain memories needing stimulating... here ya go. Couldn't be helped. Had to do it... Phoebe Cates emerging from pool in jerkoff fantasy, Fast Times at Ridgemont High scene...

[img]http://www.netwalk.com/~truegger/ftrh/PhoebeC.jpg[/img]

ah, i see, thank you honey

[IMG]http://erro.positively.org/Well/fauxpas/snap2017.jpg[/IMG]

"Doesn't anybody fucking knock anymore?"

By the way, that is like the best 'Eeew' face, ever.

For sure.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Eponymous [/i]
[B]By the way, that is like the best 'Eeew' face, ever.

For sure. [/B][/QUOTE]

Yeah... pretty much you see that face on your woman's mug when you drop trou... you got troubles...

howbout we just start a fast times at ridgemont high thread?

oh and brock nice pic of bart-22 in your sig. Why is he there?

who is bart 22? i was wondering if that was a picture of brock...

nah. it might be. but if you go to the onion.com or fark.com they have personals. most likely those arent pictures of the actual people since they seem to be to perfect

i've seen those ads on the onion. aren't they called "feature" ads or something? maybe they're featured because they are attractive people? but i still don't understand why brock would post that picture in his signature...unless it's him, or he wants us to think it's him, or he thinks it's a nice picture and wants to share it with the rest of us.

tell us, brock. your adoring public wants to know...who is that mystery man, bart-22, in your signature?

hey... who says internet personals aren't for Cult members? Just to see what happens, always been curious what sort of freaks respond. Perfect? Perfect for a t-zone faced psychopath. Not too friendly looking is it? Oh well. Not all of us can have perfect skin. I admit it, I'm a bit oily at times in my t-zone. Bart22's as good a name as any if you want anonymity...

wait, so it *is* you, brock? you don't look very oily, in my opinion.

I had a girl tell me I looked like a tall Sean Bateman the other day... like James Vandergeek in Avery's "Rules of Attraction" or maybe that I reminded her of the character in the book by BEE... whatever... wise man say, t-zone very sneaky...

i was forced to wear women's underwear and high heels while i was whipped by a latex clad domme.

the clothes didn't do anything for me, but mistress enjoyed my humiliation.

she is one sick puppy.

good point. lol

actually, i don't think i had a choice. first thing, tied to a st. andrew's cross; then led on all fours to a reall cold room; then here put these on, slave. something like that. decadent fun at 200 / hour.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by framstedt [/i]
[B]i was forced to wear women's underwear and high heels while i was whipped by a latex clad domme. [/B][/QUOTE]

What a wierd coincidence, 'cept I wasn't forced... and it wasn't really women's underpants but instead leather chaps with no seat and yeah, no high heels... just boots with spiked spurs, and she didn't so much whip me as she rode me, although she did have some rope but it was nylon and sorta stretchie and she was actually pretty submissive although she was partially clad, just not in latex, more like seran wrap and clothespins, but otherwise we did exactly the same thing dude... how'bout that? Who woulda thunk.?

brothers separated at birth, perhcance.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by framstedt [/i]
[B]the clothes didn't do anything for me, but mistress enjoyed my humiliation. [/B][/QUOTE]

... so the clothes didn't do nuttin for ya, and the chick enjoyed you being humiliated... I guess I'm missing the part where you enjoyed it...

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by framstedt [/i]
[B]she is one sick puppy. [/B][/QUOTE]

Sick puppy... I've always wondered why the freaks of the world get called ill canines... any thoughts on the origin of this?

it's right in front of you, brock, you old raconteuer. the whipping and what *ahem* came later.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by framstedt [/i]
[B]brothers separated at birth, perhcance. [/B][/QUOTE]

Well you know what they say about those sibling psychic connections and all... like a regular missing Stooge... Loepold and Loeb in a Spandeau Ballet/Dead Ringers sort of mystified sense... or not, or maybe just like-minded miscreants... you know, I should've said that was my favorite word... miscreant... great word...

One time my brother walked in while I was masturbating.

miscreant is an excellent word. agreed.
not sure about the etymology of sick puppy.
let's see what we find, shall we?

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by framstedt [/i]
[B]it's right in front of you, brock, you old raconteuer. the whipping and what *ahem* came later. [/B][/QUOTE]

... came later? or CAME later? Me thinks tis but a dream, this blissful melancholy raining upon yonder arse. See and I was just confused about the differences in a St. Andrew cross and the regular version... like is it upside down or something? Does it spin? Does it involve cock-and-ball torture? Inquiring minds want to know...

national helpline network, eh, brock? what's the deal with that, huh? i though i was gonna talk to my estranged brother in fetish sin.

no, the cross was mounted to a wall in the interrogation room. it had large eye hooks in all the right places. didn't spin. that's a st. catherine's wheel.

more pony play than i bargain for. let's put it that way. *wink*

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by framstedt [/i]
[B]national helpline network, eh, brock?[/B][/QUOTE]

Didn't you know that I work for the national suicide hotline? Yeah, I'm one of their best operators. I talk people into wanting to live. I tell them how fucking great everything is and how goddamn beautiful all the butt-fucking scenery is. I tell them that if they kill themselves I will fuck their girlfriend/mother/sister how they should stay alive to prevent me from corrupting the womenfolk in their immediate family/circle of friends. I'm such a optimist. I tell them how life isn't really fucked-up and that in reality they are the fucked-up ones, so they shouldn't kill themselves because they were born losers, that they should live to be an example of what *not* to do... of what *not* to become, and that in staying alive they can set a precedent... an example of just how utterly useless and meaningless one person can be, so that others will become so disgusted at how literally fucking nasty and filthy and screwed-up they are and not be that way themselves. I just like people. Even the ones on the verge of killing themselves. Sometimes I even like them more than the rest of the people. I want to invite them home and cook them a fucking meal. yeah. That's me... a real saint. i want to give these people shelter and a warm meal and encourage them to go on living. God, I'm such a thankless helper of lost souls. Fuck, how fucking amazing am I? I mean, really... I'm like a superhero or something. They should do a news story on how goddamn fucking wonderful I am. Me... the savior of pathetic losers everywhere. I bust my ass talking to these assholes everyday all day on the phone and what's the thanks I get? Fuck 'em, I wish they would all die, the bastards. I don't need this shit. These sons of bastard monkeys call me... the fucking nerve of these dipshits... and expect me to tell them what's up and how fucking special they are. They're not special. A slug has more value. The shit I took this morning has more value than... hell... one piece of corn in the shit i took this morning is more valuable than these wastes-of-space. Goddamn I'm good. I'm a true american hero. Long live me. The master of my fucking universe. I'm so goddamn special. Me and my fucking shit. Special to the very last fiber and the rest can fuck themselves. And um... what? Oh yeah... I just try to help. These poor souls need guidance, and that's why I'm here. because i care. I just want to do my part to help. Love another as they say. Kum-bay-yah and all that glorious stuff. God bless the sad people... one and all. And the next time you want to kill yourself, just ring me up. I'll be there for you too. What can I say...? I'm just that kind of guy...

*** file under double penetration... erm... DP... for deviant pathos***

Note to self: Too much ephedrine and not enough sleep make for ranting and raving Brock...

i hope you're keeping notes, brock. there's a book in here somewhere.

still, i thought you were an actor. *robin williams impression*
or is the hotline your day job?

Notes? Books? Who needs 'em. Hell I can't even read all that good. Took me a day just to finish one page of Fight Club. Took me almost a full year to get through the whole book. I never was good at no book learnin'. I type through osmosis. It's a paranormal connection between my hypothalamus, my sphincterous cerebellum and these friggin' keys that seem to do whatever the hell they wanna do. Ever heard of hunt and peck typing? Well I do hunt and peck thinking. I make no goddamn sense except that if you put it down fast enough and reverse the order it comes out my brain, it sorta comes to a coherent conclusion. Like I'm still thinking about something i wrote yesterday but transmitting my thoughts telepathically onto the screen right now... fucking amazing i am, on a train, in a car, up your ass, from afar... so yeah... I keep wanting to write something of value, something that someday may make a dollar or two, but it just comes out in jumbled heaps of passionate confusion. Actor? Who would want to be an actor. Got enough drama just getting from my front door to my bedroom. Most days I drive around certain that cops are following me. I expect my door to be broken down everytime I try to nod off. I drink myself into oblivious states of blissful deterioration in attempts to calm myself. I go to clubs and get with strange women, strange in different sense of the word, and wake up unaware of my surroundings, which turn out to be my own pad. I have no meaningful relationships other than the voices in my bathing suit area, and the people I do hang with or spend time around usually serve the only purpose of making me realize just how much i enjoy silence. It's a strange fucked up place, living inside of me, but someone's gotta do it, and by god, I'm the man for the job... not really hotline operator... just getting psychotic for a moment...