Squallege posted:

cross post

Account McAccount posted:

& don't make fun of me about having one because I got it way cheap.

Long and rambling narrative will surely convince people this is true posted:

I run a small energy consulting company that does LED lighting retrofits for commercial building owners. This is the tale of one such owner. To protect the guilty, let's just call him Don.

Don owns a 150,000 square foot building that houses 40-50 art studios in the inner city in a gentrified, revitalized neighborhood surrounded by cracked-out ghetto. As in, every third house is burnt to a crisp ghetto. He is a divorced, tall, thin man who looks like Tobias Funke and wears a community theatre turtleneck. Despite the appearance, he is quite heterosexual as he is banging the cute, spunky girl who rents a flat on the same floor as his office, "Moira", and this tryst is the reason for his nuptual disharmony.

One day, Don calls us up and asks us what the cost would be to retrofit one of his suites with flat-panel LED lights. I quote him, he loves the price and the technology. Our engineer even comes out to consult with his architect and designs the suite to his specs. The price is $7,000.00 inclusive of parts and labor. Don signs a written contract.

Don pays the required 20% down on his retrofit to put the parts on order. The install goes exactly as planned with exactly the timeline promised, and Don can't be more thrilled. Everything is going swimmingly - he invites us to his monthly art showcase where his tenants get to display their work for the community. About 200 people typically attend, including 25-30 of his tenant artists. He hands us the tickets, and we are glad to attend.

that's when poo poo went south.

Don suddenly gets a "competitive quote" from an undisclosed LED company whose name he won't share with me. He's angry about the price we quoted him as "too high" - even though we stayed well below the 50% "keystone markup" at 20%. We went skinny on the margin to net a new customer, a well-connected one at that. He tells me he is refusing to pay the balance because "we ripped him off." After a string of obscenity, he tells me "sue me, rear end in a top hat" and hangs up. He refuses to answer phone calls or email correspondence.

I've had it at this point. I've spent about $4,500 on materials and paid for $1,000 in labor. I have recouped $1,400 of that from the customer and I'm eating the rest. I felt disrespected, swindled, and frankly, pissed.

So I decided to do something about it. I gathered my 2 partners, the installers, and a few friends. After discussion over a 'few' beers about how best to handle the situation, my friend Rick had an epiphany. It was one of those "EUREKA" moments that I imagine scientists of antiquity exclaiming as they discovered a new chemical compound, and I wish I could take credit for it. Rick suggested we attend the artwork display and chemically disrupt the proceedings.

We got to work. Excitedly we made a list of the necessary ingredients to produce the loudest, most odiferous, noxious, and sustained flatulence possible. We came up with a witch's brew that consisted of cooked cabbage, protein powder, hard-boiled eggs, refried beans, chili, whole milk, fiber bars, brussel sprouts, onions, garlic, and a greasy calzone full of pepperoni. We tested this mixture the following day to ascertain its onerous quality. Throughout the afternoon we systematically consumed each of the foods in the list precisely as described, then waited.

Then, it began. The smell was unlike anything we could describe. A sick, garlicky sweet, sulfurous anal miasma that could induce a skunk to emesis. We could not even stand to be in the room together for more than seconds at a time. We had to open the windows in every room of the house and turn on two fans to clear it out. The table was set.

The day of the event, we decided to add 2 beers and several jalapenos to the equation for a bonus flavor. We dressed to the nines in our finest suits & ties. Our group could have passed for GQ models that day. There were ten of us, and we intended to make our presence known. Four hours before the gates would open, we began to consume. Two extra hard-boiled eggs for good measure. Three beers each. We made sure that our stool remained intact for the day, hence we lose the capability for the flatus to slide past and acquire some of the fecal bouquet on the way out.

Our moment had arrived. As we approached the building, Don noticed our entry and asked me bluntly, "Are you here to make trouble?" To which I replied, "Certainly not. I'm sure it will be an absolute BLAST and a gas of a time. No hard feelings! Are we still welcome?" He seemed relieved and, after some hesitation, welcomed us in and went about his business.

It is now that I should mention that we were purposely holding our ammunition in, allowing the pressure to build up unreleased for an hour before the event. While I cannot speak for the others, I was literally bursting at the seams. The feeling was a hot, painful, spicy, sick and uncomfortable one.

It was a very hot, humid evening, as we often experience in August in our part of the country, and the building was not air conditioned. As the event got underway, you could feel the sticky, steamy heat overwhelming the room. The windows were fogging up.

It is then, with one coordinated look and knowing nod, that we deployed our ordnance. Slowly, silently at first. People's faces altered slightly at the pungent, noxious odor, but probably assumed it had something to do with the aged building's boiler heat system. Then it hit them. We became less shy about the noise associated with our farting. The toots became voluminous to the point that I continuously evacuated gaseously for what had to be ten seconds uninterrupted. People were tearing up and holding their hands over their faces. The room had become a hotbox of poisonous stench. Moira's mother, in attendance, was so disgusted that she actually threw up in a vase. If I had the presence of mind to pull out my cell phone to record that, it would have been a viral hit.

The smell was so unbearable that some people were actually coughing uncontrollably. As I caught Don's eye, I only nodded at him and waved. I walked up and said "send the check Monday, you piece of poo poo"

With that, we left. I can't imagine the walls are still white in that room. He paid me half of the balance and said "call it even after what you did. Don't ever come here again."

tl;dr building owner refuses to pay me for his lighting, I gather some friends and associates and stink bomb his art gala with an engineered plague of terrible flatulence

Because this is more believable than just locking the car in the garage posted:

This story is a little old, taking place around 2000 or so.

Anyways during that summer, there was a rash of punks who would go and vandalize houses, cars, and pretty much anything else they could do to raise hell. It was so bad that they would keep stealing the hub caps off of my fathers grand national as well as try and get in to steal the radios and change. He was forced to keep it unlocked as it was cheaper then them breaking the windows.

The police would always take their sweet time getting here. It would take 20 minutes or more to send one officer here, even though I could walk to the station in that amount of time. By then they kids would have run off and gotten away.
My father is an engineer by trade and decided to get back at them, as right after he replaced the hub caps, they would be there that night to take them.

My father went to the hardware store and bought some wires, razor blades and grabbed a few car batteries he had in the garage. What he did was truly diabolical.

He took a little glue and on the inside of the door handles, ge secured razor blades to cut anyone who atempted to open the door. Next he stripped some of the wires he got and wrapped them around the hub caps making sure they were pressed tight against them. He took annother wire and used a little tape and glue to have the wire hovering over the wires so that if someone were to grab them, it would complete the circuit and either burn or shock them.

Eventually he was able to get them all rigged before running the wire ends back to the batteries. He connected them and then went inside.

That night my father left the windows open slightly so he could listen for them. Sure enough sometime after midnight those little shitheads came back. But after a few yells they seemed to leave rather quickly.

The morning reviled a fair amount of blood around the handle which then trailed down the drive way. One of the hubcaps melted slightly from the heat of the wire but the others were not triggered. Needless to say they didnt seem to come back after that one. I just wish we had a security system that also had a camera so I could watch those morons get it.

ibntumart posted:

Account McAccount posted:

I'm sure that actually did happen, but that the poster is an idiot.

My cats have very frequently powered on/off/ejected games from mine because they don't want me playing games. Not because the "buttons" are some unnecessarily sensitive touch things that are on the front panel.

& don't make fun of me about having one because I got it way cheap.

Preechr posted:

Alright, I'll tell it as best I can, but bear in mind that this was a story I was told years ago.

The professor was, at the time, a grad student working on his PhD in a Greek university. There was a great deal of unrest in Greece at the time, culminating in student riots. The professor and the rest of the chemistry department knew that the police were going to move on the university soon, so they came up with a plan: gently caress The Police. They had a large amount of DMSO on hand. For those of you who do not know what DMSO is, it is a solvent with a particularly interesting property- it will transport nearly anything it is in solution with directly through your skin and into your bloodstream. The students exploited this particular property by using their know-how to whip up a large batch of LSD, mix it into DMSO, and then fill a number of Super Soakers with it. Once the police moved on the university, the chem students donned protective gear, picked up their toys, and went out to meet them. While the riot cops had face shields, the DMSO solution would soak right through their uniforms and into their skin.

Now, imagine you're a Greek riot cop. You're having a pretty good day wrapping your baton around student skulls. All of a sudden, some shits in lab coats pop out of the crowd and hose you down with a squirt gun. Those stupid sons of OH poo poo THE SKY IS BURNING MY HANDS ARE MELTING WHY IS EVERYONE 100 FEET TALL-

I cannot imagine a worse place to go on a massive acid trip than in the middle of a riot. The professor laughs as he tells this story. When we ask what happened to the cops, he stops laughing, and starts the day's lesson.

FrozenVent posted:

Irradiation posted:

I'm gonna go ahead and say that never actually happened.

FrozenVent posted:

FrozenVent posted:

Flipperwaldt posted:

I'm sure jackass minded people have experimented, but I'd bet against any story even mentioning super soakers every time.

Gawker Media posted:

Way back in the late 80's, I was working at a small town restaurant in rural Alberta. It was a bit of an odd set up in that it had a coffee shop/diner in the front, a bus station/convenience store/coffee counter in the middle, and an actual dining room in the back. Sort of a one-stop-shop.

I had just started working there and had only done a week or two at this point. One of the other waitresses came into the back crying and shaking. The manager asked her what was wrong and she said "*SHE* is back and in my section again." Manager tells me to take care of her instead. Gee, thanks, Manager!

So I go out to the table, not in my section, and see that this woman in her late 30's or early 40's is sitting there grinning like she's just made the best joke ever, with her hands, arms, and clothes COVERED in fish guts and blood, her hand full of bait worms. I backed off and went back into the kitchen and the other waitress tells me that she has done this before, coming in having just butchered her catches, just to mess with the other waitress because the woman knows it'll make the waitress cry and freak out. This is the first time with actual worms, though, which apparently she pulled from her pocket and shoved in the waitress' face. Manager has by this point completely disappeared.

I, being the put-up-with-zero-bullshit type of person my mother taught me to be, went back out to the table and told the woman that she was going to get her rear end out of my diner and don't come back unless she was fit to be seen in public again, and if she shoved those worms at me one more time she'd be pulling back a stump. She hollers for the manager, who is nowhere to be found, and finally stomps her way out of the restaurant, yelling and dripping fish guts the entire time.

How I didn't lose my job over this, I will never know. Eventually, the useless manager slunk his way back into the restaurant through the back door and acted like nothing ever happened.

The original OP was unacquainted with paragraph breaks posted:

This actually happened a couple of weeks ago, but i thought i should still share: So i'm sitting in the train on my way home from work. I sat myself down in an empty "cubicle" (2 rows of 2 chairs facing each other). At one point a mother gets on the train, she has 2 kids with her, a little boy (~5 years old? i'm horrible at guessing ages) and his older sister. The mother sits down next to me, and the boy directly in front of me.

From the moment he sat down, i notice him constantly staring at my face, and i mean CONSTANTLY, he didn't even take time to blink. Then i realize, he's looking at my septum piercing, and has probably never seen one before. So i decide to have a little fun, and flip my septum up into my nose (i can hide it by flipping it up, when i do this it's completely invisible). His eyes grow even bigger and his jaw drops a little, and right before the point where he'd start drooling, i put 2 of my fingers up my nose, and flip it out again.

The kid is completely fascinated and asks me: "What is that in your nose?". I jokingly reply: "My father is a cow, i was born with it". The kid smiles, and immediately proceeds to loudly ask his mother: "Mommy, do you have sex with cows too?".

Some people in the train start laughing, but the mother certainly didn't think it was funny. She starts lecturing me on how it's people like me that "corrupt" her kid, how i am everything that's wrong with society, and how i should take my "hosed up pierced shitface" somewhere else. When i calmly try to tell her that i felt like she was overreacting, she gets up and spills her drink half over her seat/half over me, starts screaming at me like a loving banshee, grabs her kid and rushes out of the compartment.

razorrozar posted:

This is the most one I think I've ever seen. That doesn't look remotely like a child's handwriting and a cursory Googling shows the joke's been made, and better, a thousand times.

SpookyLizard posted:

Isn't LSD easily absorbed through the skin anyway?

Arrest that rear end! posted:

It is. Also some university chemistry lab didn't just "whip up a large batch of LSD", where would they even get the precursors never mind the fact it's a very complex process etc etc

ToxicSlurpee posted:

People just kind of assume that a chemistry lab in a university just kind of has every single chemical ever, or at least the ingredients to make them, just kind of laying around for any idiot to wander on by and cook up any controlled substance they want. Couple that with the whole "universities = liberals and liberals = drug using hippies" and people readily believe that every university chemistry department manufactures drugs for, like, any reason. Because, you know, universities have infinite money, right? They can just supply students with free chemicals to do just kind of whatever with.

ToxicSlurpee posted:

People just kind of assume that a chemistry lab in a university just kind of has every single chemical ever, or at least the ingredients to make them, just kind of laying around for any idiot to wander on by and cook up any controlled substance they want. Couple that with the whole "universities = liberals and liberals = drug using hippies" and people readily believe that every university chemistry department manufactures drugs for, like, any reason. Because, you know, universities have infinite money, right? They can just supply students with free chemicals to do just kind of whatever with.

razorrozar posted:

Related to this is the assumption that a doctorate makes you an expert on anything ever, and revolutionizing the field of physics or dentistry grants credence on anti-vaccination and abortion.

quote:

Client: Hello, I asked one of my friends and he said that you built our site using Hotmail.

Me: Excuse me! What do you mean?

Client: You used Hotmail to build my site.

Me: We can’t do that, nobody can. Hotmail is owned by Microsoft and they offer free email accounts. It’s not a development environment.

Client: My friend is a computer expert and he is sure.

Me: Is your friend next to you?

Client: Yes

Me: Can you put him through?

Friend: You made my friend’s site with Hotmail. Admit it.

Me: Sir, we can’t do that. What made you think it was created using Hotmail.

Friend: All the pages in the site end with .html.

Mokotow posted:

Sassy business owner vs. incredibly stupid customer vol. MMMMCMXCIX.

quote:

Friend: You made my friend’s site with Hotmail. Admit it.

a stupid loving customer posted:

*sees something not on the shelf* Why did you discontinue this?

r/tfr posted:

Seriously....I'm shopping in a department store when a woman grabs me by the arm, saying "Come on! I told you to stay with me!". I replied "Excuse me?" She then looked at me in shock and said, "Oh i'm so sorry, I thought you were my son!" I'm 27 years old and 4'10". This kind of thing happens more often than I would like to admit. To add insult to injury, I saw her again in the checkout line and her son was taller than I am.

Mokotow posted:

Sassy business owner vs. incredibly stupid customer vol. MMMMCMXCIX.

quote:

Yesterday morning, while in a taxi on the way to the airport, Husband sends a message to my work email which is connected to my phone. He's never done this, we always communicate in person or by text. I open it up, and it's a sarcastic diatribe basically saying he won't miss me for the 10 days I'm gone. Attached is a SPREADSHEET of all the times he has tried to initiate sex since June 1st, with a column for my "excuses", using verbatim quotes of why I didn't feel like having sex at that very moment. According to his 'document', we've only had sex 3 times in the last 7 weeks, out of 27 "attempts" on his part.

Huntersoninski posted:

Yeah. that will get him some. I'll never understand why people think throwing little baby tantrums are an effective turn on. Just loving talk to her about it.