TEAYCHES posted:

havent you read uh.. infinite jest?? isnt that what that book is about? i dont know ive never read that poo poo

psyopmonkey posted:

I think you know OP.

You know.

MVP posted:

during a boat trip my dad was joking around and jumped into the ocean as an act of bravado.

we hit a freak wave and the boat went over my dad and his legs got hit by the propeller

all I can remember are his screams while he drowned, the boat apparently cut off both of his legs

Nekodoshi posted:

My dad verbally abused me when i was young, due to (at the time) being undiagnosed bipolar while having issues with being horrifically abused by his own father.
Worst he ever did to me was... when i was maybe five or six I was playing in my room, being goofy and watching Mary Poppins when he bursts in, grabs me by the collar of my shirt and physically lifted me and shook me while telling me to be quiet. I remember him taking me into the kitchen later and apologizing. I told him it was okay, and he cried when he said "no it isn't".

Flash forward to twenty years later, he coyly asked me if I ever "figured out how [he] treated me and [my] mom."
I told him I'd been over it for years, and to promise me not to hold anything against himself again.

He now has a granddaughter who he calls "his princess" and he loves more than life itself. Im extremely happy about that.

Nekodoshi posted:

My dad verbally abused me when i was young, due to (at the time) being undiagnosed bipolar while having issues with being horrifically abused by his own father.
Worst he ever did to me was... when i was maybe five or six I was playing in my room, being goofy and watching Mary Poppins when he bursts in, grabs me by the collar of my shirt and physically lifted me and shook me while telling me to be quiet. I remember him taking me into the kitchen later and apologizing. I told him it was okay, and he cried when he said "no it isn't".

Flash forward to twenty years later, he coyly asked me if I ever "figured out how [he] treated me and [my] mom."
I told him I'd been over it for years, and to promise me not to hold anything against himself again.

He now has a granddaughter who he calls "his princess" and he loves more than life itself. Im extremely happy about that.

Ben Smash posted:

My dad took me to disneyland but bought his girlfriend with and told me not to tell my mom.

cooter64 posted:

My mom institutionalized me after I asked her for a Pepsi.

Cardinal Ximenez posted:

Like, the actually worst thing one of my parents did is more abstract. Some people have a hard time conceptualizing clinical depression as a real thing.

But I do have a fun story.

Context: I live in Florida. I once got sent to one of those summer day camp programs, back when I was like, 10 or 11. This year's was "Environment Camp".

Already a bad sign. I'm really sensitive to stimuli, and the outdoors in general is hard for me to tolerate under anything but near-perfect conditions. My mom knows this, but it's the whole post-90s soccer mom extracirricular activity boom and I'm sent off.

Most of the time, the "camp" was sitting around on a bus being driven to a swampy hole in the ground, getting out for two hours in blazing heat, drenching rain, or quite possibly both, and riding the way back.

One of the days was more local. It was moderately cloudy, not that hot; perhaps not utterly soul-crushing by the end of the day. We rode around on a boat through the bay, a powered barge with only shoddy wood panels to separate us from the sky. We get out at the local park on one of the countless keys which dot the Floridian coast. It's getting grey and overcast.

When it gets pretty cloudy in the summer in Florida, rain is inevitable, and very probably soon. This is a thing that you learn with almost any life experience in Florida. The captain of the boat looks a bit unnerved, and suggests going back to the marina. This does not stand with the camp counselor, and we sail on to the next destination. By this point, we can't even go under the next drawbridge, because we will clearly get soaked before the next time it opens up, so we head back to the marina...

By now, though, there's lightning nearby, and a torrent of rain. We only get to shelter under a causeway after getting sprayed with the fine mist splashing off the sea. We now have to wait out the storm, on a boat whose length is barely covered by the bridge. And I am terrified of both loud noises and electricity.

I am curled up, crying in panic for nearly an hour before the storm finally clears enough for us to get back to land.

Cardinal Ximenez posted:

Like, the actually worst thing one of my parents did is more abstract. Some people have a hard time conceptualizing clinical depression as a real thing.

But I do have a fun story.

Context: I live in Florida. I once got sent to one of those summer day camp programs, back when I was like, 10 or 11. This year's was "Environment Camp".

Already a bad sign. I'm really sensitive to stimuli, and the outdoors in general is hard for me to tolerate under anything but near-perfect conditions. My mom knows this, but it's the whole post-90s soccer mom extracirricular activity boom and I'm sent off.

Most of the time, the "camp" was sitting around on a bus being driven to a swampy hole in the ground, getting out for two hours in blazing heat, drenching rain, or quite possibly both, and riding the way back.

One of the days was more local. It was moderately cloudy, not that hot; perhaps not utterly soul-crushing by the end of the day. We rode around on a boat through the bay, a powered barge with only shoddy wood panels to separate us from the sky. We get out at the local park on one of the countless keys which dot the Floridian coast. It's getting grey and overcast.

When it gets pretty cloudy in the summer in Florida, rain is inevitable, and very probably soon. This is a thing that you learn with almost any life experience in Florida. The captain of the boat looks a bit unnerved, and suggests going back to the marina. This does not stand with the camp counselor, and we sail on to the next destination. By this point, we can't even go under the next drawbridge, because we will clearly get soaked before the next time it opens up, so we head back to the marina...

By now, though, there's lightning nearby, and a torrent of rain. We only get to shelter under a causeway after getting sprayed with the fine mist splashing off the sea. We now have to wait out the storm, on a boat whose length is barely covered by the bridge. And I am terrified of both loud noises and electricity.

I am curled up, crying in panic for nearly an hour before the storm finally clears enough for us to get back to land.

Cardinal Ximenez posted:

Cardinal Ximenez posted:

Like, the actually worst thing one of my parents did is more abstract. Some people have a hard time conceptualizing clinical depression as a real thing.

But I do have a fun story.

Context: I live in Florida. I once got sent to one of those summer day camp programs, back when I was like, 10 or 11. This year's was "Environment Camp".

Already a bad sign. I'm really sensitive to stimuli, and the outdoors in general is hard for me to tolerate under anything but near-perfect conditions. My mom knows this, but it's the whole post-90s soccer mom extracirricular activity boom and I'm sent off.

Most of the time, the "camp" was sitting around on a bus being driven to a swampy hole in the ground, getting out for two hours in blazing heat, drenching rain, or quite possibly both, and riding the way back.

One of the days was more local. It was moderately cloudy, not that hot; perhaps not utterly soul-crushing by the end of the day. We rode around on a boat through the bay, a powered barge with only shoddy wood panels to separate us from the sky. We get out at the local park on one of the countless keys which dot the Floridian coast. It's getting grey and overcast.

When it gets pretty cloudy in the summer in Florida, rain is inevitable, and very probably soon. This is a thing that you learn with almost any life experience in Florida. The captain of the boat looks a bit unnerved, and suggests going back to the marina. This does not stand with the camp counselor, and we sail on to the next destination. By this point, we can't even go under the next drawbridge, because we will clearly get soaked before the next time it opens up, so we head back to the marina...

By now, though, there's lightning nearby, and a torrent of rain. We only get to shelter under a causeway after getting sprayed with the fine mist splashing off the sea. We now have to wait out the storm, on a boat whose length is barely covered by the bridge. And I am terrified of both loud noises and electricity.

I am curled up, crying in panic for nearly an hour before the storm finally clears enough for us to get back to land.

Cardinal Ximenez posted:

Like, the actually worst thing one of my parents did is more abstract. Some people have a hard time conceptualizing clinical depression as a real thing.

But I do have a fun story.

Context: I live in Florida. I once got sent to one of those summer day camp programs, back when I was like, 10 or 11. This year's was "Environment Camp".

Already a bad sign. I'm really sensitive to stimuli, and the outdoors in general is hard for me to tolerate under anything but near-perfect conditions. My mom knows this, but it's the whole post-90s soccer mom extracirricular activity boom and I'm sent off.

Most of the time, the "camp" was sitting around on a bus being driven to a swampy hole in the ground, getting out for two hours in blazing heat, drenching rain, or quite possibly both, and riding the way back.

One of the days was more local. It was moderately cloudy, not that hot; perhaps not utterly soul-crushing by the end of the day. We rode around on a boat through the bay, a powered barge with only shoddy wood panels to separate us from the sky. We get out at the local park on one of the countless keys which dot the Floridian coast. It's getting grey and overcast.

When it gets pretty cloudy in the summer in Florida, rain is inevitable, and very probably soon. This is a thing that you learn with almost any life experience in Florida. The captain of the boat looks a bit unnerved, and suggests going back to the marina. This does not stand with the camp counselor, and we sail on to the next destination. By this point, we can't even go under the next drawbridge, because we will clearly get soaked before the next time it opens up, so we head back to the marina...

By now, though, there's lightning nearby, and a torrent of rain. We only get to shelter under a causeway after getting sprayed with the fine mist splashing off the sea. We now have to wait out the storm, on a boat whose length is barely covered by the bridge. And I am terrified of both loud noises and electricity.

I am curled up, crying in panic for nearly an hour before the storm finally clears enough for us to get back to land.

TEAYCHES posted:

my dad is/was now hes just a diabetic republican / freeper style conspiracy theorist

Cardinal Ximenez posted:

Like, the actually worst thing one of my parents did is more abstract. Some people have a hard time conceptualizing clinical depression as a real thing.

But I do have a fun story.

Context: I live in Florida. I once got sent to one of those summer day camp programs, back when I was like, 10 or 11. This year's was "Environment Camp".

Already a bad sign. I'm really sensitive to stimuli, and the outdoors in general is hard for me to tolerate under anything but near-perfect conditions. My mom knows this, but it's the whole post-90s soccer mom extracirricular activity boom and I'm sent off.

Most of the time, the "camp" was sitting around on a bus being driven to a swampy hole in the ground, getting out for two hours in blazing heat, drenching rain, or quite possibly both, and riding the way back.

One of the days was more local. It was moderately cloudy, not that hot; perhaps not utterly soul-crushing by the end of the day. We rode around on a boat through the bay, a powered barge with only shoddy wood panels to separate us from the sky. We get out at the local park on one of the countless keys which dot the Floridian coast. It's getting grey and overcast.

When it gets pretty cloudy in the summer in Florida, rain is inevitable, and very probably soon. This is a thing that you learn with almost any life experience in Florida. The captain of the boat looks a bit unnerved, and suggests going back to the marina. This does not stand with the camp counselor, and we sail on to the next destination. By this point, we can't even go under the next drawbridge, because we will clearly get soaked before the next time it opens up, so we head back to the marina...

By now, though, there's lightning nearby, and a torrent of rain. We only get to shelter under a causeway after getting sprayed with the fine mist splashing off the sea. We now have to wait out the storm, on a boat whose length is barely covered by the bridge. And I am terrified of both loud noises and electricity.

I am curled up, crying in panic for nearly an hour before the storm finally clears enough for us to get back to land.

Orkin Mang posted:

my father is dead

Orkin Mang posted:

my father is dead

Scald posted:

Same, but he died the same way he lived: Diabetes and Speedballs.

Scald posted:

Same, but he died the same way he lived: Diabetes and Speedballs.

Muerte posted:

I'm a picky eater and one time we were on vacation and my Dad cooked baked beans and he told me I would sit at the table until I finished them. Well after about an hour and a half I realized he wasn't kidding. I kept begging him saying I would puke if I ate them, he wasn't buying it. I finally took a bite and I vomited all over the camper floor. He made me sit there as they cleaned it up and said I wouldn't be leaving until I ate all of it. Then a fight between my parents started and I snuck away outside and learned how to skip rocks with a neighbor camper kid. Thanks random dude somewhere in Virginia by a wax museum.

Orkin Mang posted:

you sound like a reject, evolutionarily speaking

Muerte posted:

I'm a picky eater and one time we were on vacation and my Dad cooked baked beans and he told me I would sit at the table until I finished them. Well after about an hour and a half I realized he wasn't kidding. I kept begging him saying I would puke if I ate them, he wasn't buying it. I finally took a bite and I vomited all over the camper floor. He made me sit there as they cleaned it up and said I wouldn't be leaving until I ate all of it. Then a fight between my parents started and I snuck away outside and learned how to skip rocks with a neighbor camper kid. Thanks random dude somewhere in Virginia by a wax museum.