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"I heard about this kinky gay club where dudes dressed up as minotaurs and chased you down so you would give them blowjobs. But when I found out that those sickos actually dressed up as minotaurs and chased us down so we would give them blowjobs, I immediately called the police!"
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Oct 24, 2015 11:28
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The 
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Oct 24, 2015 11:37
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Wasn't that an episode of CSI. Only instead of gay blowjobs it was murder?
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Oct 24, 2015 11:48
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 This is how all these wacky STDH stories actually go down.
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Oct 24, 2015 17:47
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The Lobster posted:When I went to pick up TFH the girl at the GameStop was like, "Can I help you find anything?" and I said, "No thanks. I'm just here to pick up a game," and the guy goes, "Let me guess, Assassin's Creed?" and I'm like, "Nope, TFH," and he visibly perked up and goes, direct quote, "Oh, the actually good game that came out today!" So that made me laugh. I have a feeling today was a sucky day at GameStop. I'm now a seasonal employee there but I haven't gotten my schedule yet and I've only worked one shift so far.
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Oct 24, 2015 18:11
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PUGGERNAUT posted:
I appreciate the honesty.
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Oct 24, 2015 22:38
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I'm shocked he admitted he was with his mom.
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Oct 24, 2015 23:14
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PUGGERNAUT posted:This is how all these wacky STDH stories actually go down. Once, on US tax day, I went into the post office and got in line. A customer at the clerk counter mentioned wanting to mail tax forms and I loudly joked "WE HAVE TO PAY THOSE?" thinking it would be the right amount of comedy to cut tension in a small room of tax-stressed citizens. Nope - nothing but crickets. I wish someone cracked a smile, or married Einstein. Granted, it was not very funny.
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Oct 25, 2015 02:08
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I have been sitting on this one for a while now. Partly because the responsible parties hadn’t been tried yet and mostly because I was lazy. I am trying to channel my inner u/El_Mono_Rojo but I don’t know how well I will do. Once upon a time, I bought a fully functioning ex-police car from a dealer in Orange County. I don’t know the details entirely, but I ended up with a police car, that still had a lightbar on it, and the sun damaged black and white paint with the lettering still barely visible in the undamaged parts of the clear coat. (Of course I don’t know this cause I bought it at night. NEVER BUY A CAR AT NIGHT.) This is just the last of many fun tales I have had in this car, but for the most part this is the best. My friends had invited me to a Friendsgiving in a less than peachy part of town. I actually spent a good deal at my grandmothers growing up less than half a mile from where this all took place, so I felt comfortable in an otherwise sketchy neighbourhood, plus it was only 6PM. After all, I was driving an old Crown Vic, now devoid of lights, but still very black and white. I am 22 years old, 6’2” have blue spikey Tumblr hair and generally don’t get bothered by people. As I pull up outside the house I notice all the parking up the street is completely taken. I have nowhere to park my land boat and have to use the cul-de-sac at the end of the right branch of the street and loop back to check the left branch. It too, was all parked up, except for a spot at the end where the street stopped. Rather than park there, I figured I would park outside the development, and walk in. Now I have to paint a picture here of the arena. There is a main road that runs north to south, we will call this 2nd Ave. Off of it is an west east running street that is only about 50 feet long this will be 10th Street. To the west of 2nd Ave is the development road 1st Ave. It’s a cul-de-sac at both ends. The right arm (north) has a left hand turn in it, the left arm (to the south) is a straight shot with no house at the end, just a bunch of blackberry bushes. Both roads are less than a 1/4 mile long. Now that you are completely confused and don’t care at all. I drove out of the development North onto 2nd Ave. I flipped a U-turn and parked up on the NW corner of 2nd Ave & 10th Street. As I am sitting there, there is just this very strange tension in the air. I see a black Camaro turn right onto 10th Street, I notice it has a California tag, just like my crown vic. I get out of the car after letting it pass me, and begin to grab my casserole, beers and tortilla chips. As I set my things on the trunk I notice a black male, maybe 5’8”, wearing a red jacket and a black hat has come from around the corner of the fence on 10th Street. Something doesn’t sit right with me, he wasn’t phased, he didn’t twitch or react they way people usually do. He speaks up. “Hey man, sick car. Where’d you get that?” This was a conversation I have had before, but this time something is very wrong. He didn’t have to spend anytime registering the cop car, he just knew about it. I would have seen him on foot if he was just a random passerby, seeing as I just went through the neighbourhood he came from. I try to carry the conversation warmly and greet him. “Heh yeah man, I snagged this down in Cali.” He smiled and said “Oh yeah, how much did it run you?” I thought about it for a second and didn’t care to divulge entirely. “Eh, it was a few grand.” He nods and says, “Alright now give me the keys.” Producing a Glock 30, .45ACP pistol out of his right jacket pocket. My brain slams into fight or flight. Time slows, way down. I look at the gun, look at him, look at his posture, look at his body language, I look at his grip on the gun. I study this clown as fast as I can. “No.” I tell him flatly. I have a lot of firearms training, and I know when someone knows how to use a gun. You can read it off them. You can see it in their movements, their actions. He didn’t have any of those right. Hell he was standing 3 feet from me. If he was 15 feet away and pointed the gun at me he would have driven off in my car. But this was amateur hour. “No.” Seemed to surprise him. He hadn’t expected resistance, What does I do now? Well naturally wave the gun around more. “I’m serious.” He says gesturing with the gun. While he does this he gives me one big tell on his bluff. He rotates the gun in his grip at the wrist. I know not to do that, he should too. “So am I.” I said just as flatly as before, unfazed. In my head I have decided to strike, but his body positioning doesn’t allow for the disarm I have practiced. He has the gun tight to his body, next to his jacket pocket still. I need to get the gun out of battery and turn it into the biggest liability he has ever held in his hand. I am already dumped on adrenaline. This is the guy that makes me have to get background checked when I buy guns. This is the guy that uses firearms like keys to honest peoples things, honest peoples livelihoods. I was pissed. But I was ready. He is at a stump zone. I haven’t been outright rude or threatening to him and he isn’t getting what he wants out of me. He starts to dig through my pockets. He reaches into my right pocket, which is full of slightly warm air and some lint, but nothing else. As he reaches into my left pocket where my wallet and keys are, he is searching with his left hand which means his body is all crossed up. His right hand has the gun, and I am completely out of the line of fire. All the lights in my head that were yellow, flip green. I let go the bag full of tortilla chips in my right hand and come up low, behind his line of sight, hand already balled into a fist. My left hand snaps up with a practiced fury and grabs the slide of the glock. A drill I have practiced many times, but this one had to count. I feel the ejection port and the sights in against my hand and pull against the back of the gun, I feel the slide move as my right fist hits him in the side of the head, I follow through. I bellow at the top of my lungs, (a frightening 105dba of screaming tranny.) “NOT LIKE THIS MOTHERFUCKER!” And I hit him again, hard. I have spent thousand and thousands of hours practicing all of these things to look good on a screen or on stage, and there we always fake it. Pull the punches, fake the hits. I have never once in my life been in a situation where I am in the right by putting a hurting on someone. I realised this as I was landing my fourth hit against his head. I probably never really will get this opportunity again. But more importantly, I need to get this gun. We tangle down 2nd Ave towards 10th. By the time he trips up over the curb and spills into the intersection, I am somewhere in the double digits as far a punches go all to the head and neck. I have fully started my psychological warfare campaign. I am screaming at the top of my lungs drill sergeant status. “I AM GOING TO loving KILL YOU.” The guy that was calmly talking to you 15 seconds ago about the car you were trying to steal is now fighting you very effectively and screaming about how they are going to murder you for making the mistake of trying to take from them. He is flat on the pavement in the intersection, and we become untangled. I stay up, but slide past him on the cold concrete and the contents of my pockets go flying across the intersection. I go back to kick him but he lands an upward kick to my torso and scrambles up. As I recover and turn back to charge at him again, trying to keep under the 7ft rule. He spins around and pistol-whips me. Dazing me, and knocking me to the ground this time. He too, tries to kick me. It was here, why I understand now why video game action sequences seem to be so slow. I was just sitting there in my own head, playing DrivingRainn: The Game. I am watching his basketball shoe scream toward my head in super slow motion, probably 1/10 real speed. If I move too fast, he can correct, if I move too late, he connects. Wait, wait, wait… NOW. I duck under his kick, compress my arms like a spring and as his foot clears my head, pop up literally right behind him as his spins 180˚ to turn and run westbound on 10th Street. I am up like a spider monkey behind him, still landing punches against his head. It’s about now I notice he is screaming something. “HIT HIM! HIT HIM! HIT HIM!” He screams in a panic. But to who? I notice the black Camaro, cali tags, sitting in the intersection of 1st Ave and 10th Street pointed towards us. I hear the car begin to move as he suddenly pulls another 180˚ to run eastbound 10th Street on the south side of the street. I am now screaming something like. “OOOH A CAR, COME BACK HERE MOTHERFUCKER.” And I mean it. My hasty plan looks like this. Stay as close to the gunman as possible so his friend can’t just rek me, cause he would hit his homie too. I will jump on the hood, like I have practiced before, and roll off the side. Get back to dealing with the gunman as fast as possible. It goes pretty much to plan, except I went rolling off to one side of the car, while our gunman went to the other and jumped just a fraction of a second late. I land on my feet after rolling off the hood, the car stops. It's right here I wish I had a gun. I would have the drop on our gunman and a clean shot. I slam my fist agains the passenger window and the car gets spooked driving out from between us. Leaving gun man, for the first time, farther than 7 feet from me. I charge him. “COME HERE.” And he begins to raise the gun, I actually feel like he might have a shot, I sidestep and he fires one round into the pavement. I feel something against my leg. He looks at me like a man stuck in a cage with a wild animal. “WHAT THE gently caress IS WRONG WITH YOU. ARE YOU CRAZY?!” He screams at me, genuinely confused. “Looks like it.” I said back, calm as ever again. “All this over a loving car?!” He points “All this over a loving car.” I smile, extending my arms out in a "yeah you made this happen" gesture. “Man I shoulda capped you.” He says grabbing my wallet off the ground and limping back to the car. “Maybe you should have.” I stop myself. I haven’t ever talked trash about anything, and I don’t know why I decided to start now, but I wasn’t about to get ventilated over it. Shut up. “I shoulda capped you, I shoulda capped you, I shoulda capped you…” He gets in the car and drives off, V6 roaring into the night. I stand in the dramatic single light of the intersection of 2nd ave and 10th. I let out a warriors cry. I have just successfully completed the stupidest loving thing I have ever done in real life. Exhale. I am a buzz of electricity, I check my leg to make sure I don’t have a new leg piercing I can’t feel under the adrenaline, my head hurts from the pistol whip and my leg is tweaked a little from the car. I grab my beers, casserole and chips and walk to the door. I pound the door hard with purpose. My friend opens the door. “Hey!” She says, nonchalant as ever, for now blissfully unaware of my last minute and a half. “Hey did you hear anything?” I ask her, already knowing the answer. “Yeah I heard a boom, what was that?” “Oh you know that was just me getting shot at.” I drop on her. The blood in her face drains and she looks at me like a crazy person. “WHAT?!” The 30+ person party drops silent. One 911 call later, a skeptical Sheriff’s deputy is standing at the door. I give him my information and I realise I don’t have my wallet. I don’t have my ID, or my keys, or anything. As the second cop shows up, he parks on 10th Street. Both cops are facing outwards from the development. We walk though the crime scene. We find my keys, lighter, and contents of my pocket strewn about 10th street, but no wallet. And no spare key in said wallet. We find the shell casing and as we are finishing up, he asks if I have any evidence I might have gotten off of him. I go back to my car and find that the hat, was actually a facemask. And he could have easily robbed me like a professional if he hadn’t been such a half rear end. I hand it off to them. “It’s amateur hour man. I can’t believe it.” Cop 2 takes the mask and Cop 1 gives me a fist bump, “And nice job on kicking that guys rear end first.” No more than 10 seconds later. Cop 1 speaks up. “BLACK CAMARO! BLACK CAMARO!” I listen, V8 or V6? V6. “IT’S THEM IT’S THEM!” I look up into the intersection just in time to see my black and white race past, headlights out. The first thought through my head is just the calmest sounding. He’s not going to find the headlights. Not “OMG THEY STOLE MY CAR”, not “ARE YOU loving KIDDING ME”, Just “He’s not going to find the headlights”. When I bought the car, I spent 5 minutes looking for the headlights on the car. The switch wasn’t there. Not where I expected. They are on the dash, hard left almost at the edge of the dash, hidden more or less under the spotlight handle. He had maybe 10 seconds to find it, and didn’t. And was racing through one of the darkest neighbourhoods with no lights. Having just put exhaust on it, I can actually hear my car bouncing off the rev limiter in 1st, he had cranked the gear selector down in the darkness and was going 40MPH, but no faster as he churns the steering wheel around the off camber, 90˚ turn onto 9th Street. This intersection drops about 1 story and is blind, off camber and dark as my sense of self-worth. At that point, it was so far beyond my control. The cops are throwing paperwork into their cars and jumping in as fast as possible. They take off chasing after them, this was the poo poo they signed up for. Hell this was the stuff I wanna sign up for. There is a moment of faux silence. I can hear the cops respective V8’s making merry with the gearing, and the sudden sound of screeching tires lets me know my car is making the right hand turn it simply won’t make. If he was well trained, and knew where he was going, he might make that corner at 30MPH, and that’s a big might. He is 10MPH overspeed into the corner in a 4,000 pound nope-mobile. The rear end of the car swings tail happy, out to the left and then the right. The first two screeches let me know he isn’t about to get away. The third screech seals the letter. The ominous sound of suspension compressing gives me a fraction of a second to think it all worked out and my car was fine. The loudest crash I have ever heard from 100 yards away permeates the night. I hear the sounds of sirens race into the night. I look at the bewildered family standing across the street, having just offloaded from their minivan, and exclaim excitedly. “THEY STOLE MY CAR! THEY WERE DUMB ENOUGH TO COME BACK… AND STEAL MY CAR!” I run inside, excited for some reason. Cop 1 jumps out of his car just around the corner from where my car had disappeared into the darkness. He sprints full speed across the front yard and as he is about to cross the first yard, out from between the houses comes the dazed getaway car driver from before, he had stolen the car. The cop said to me 2 hours later as we took the report and I quote. “Well, I was at a full sprint, in the grass. I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted too, I couldn’t have turned, blinked, thought, farted or done anything other than blindside into him at full speed. I hit him so hard my back still hurts.” The thief ends up in cuffs, gasping for air against the freezing lawn. Cop 2 chases the black Camaro down the street, onto the next avenue and onto the feeder for the interstate. He gets off at the next exit, turns right onto Lander Ave and races back towards the crime scene. I am standing inside looking out the window. My friends have give me a beer and I hear something coming. I watch the Black Camaro travel down 10th street westbound, BACK into the neighbourhood that started this whole thing and then turn left, down the dead end towards the blackberry bushes. This time I know something he doesn’t, he punches it. Hard. Foot to floor screaming V6. He shot off the end of the road like a Duke’s of Hazard stunt, vaulting the car 7 feet in the air and 40 feet into the thick blackberries. Eight police cars come flooding into the street, another half dozen fill the area. The gunman crawls from the wreckage and through 40 feet of thick blackberries at gunpoint to a waiting set of cuffs. He has crashed less than 100 yards from his friend. You could see the first crash site from the embankment he drove off of. It turns out they had robbed 6 other people since 7AM, after stealing the car from someone at a bar. I was the last of their crime spree and they were high on crime and trying to pay for a PCP habit. I exhale, at last at ease. I spend the evening with friends and eventually I get called out to the tow truck to go see my car. My baby is sitting 8ft down an embankment, having crashed through a solid wooden fence (nbd), a row boat (nbd), another solid fence (still nbd), and into a parked motorboat (okay kind of a bd). Airbags aren’t deployed, and the car starts fine. After a recovery, the next morning I find out my car isn’t covered for theft and I need to replace the windshield, left mirror, spotlight and every body panel on the left side, under my own expense because my mother would rather save $5/mo rather than have full coverage on my car. I throw my phone THROUGH a wall when I find this out. I am also now out a phone. Great. It doesn’t hit me until maybe 4 days later what I did fully. I brought a casserole, beer and tortilla chips to a gunfight and didn’t die. I used my brain, my training and my observational skills to take a bad situation and make it worse to the point it got better. I also get extremely lucky and rolled really high skill checks. (I play a lot of D&D.) I severed every fingernail on both hands during the scuffle, I left them jagged and uneven, sharp and annoying until I had finally got my concealed carry license. I have thought on the issue long and hard, and came to the realisation I don’t want to kill anyone. I will kill the man threatening my life, but the second he is no longer in that role in my life. I don’t want to kill the gunman that pulled on me, I have no spite, no revenge, no knife to sink. I don’t want to kill the driver of the car that hit me. I don’t want to ruin anyones life, day or train of thought even. But next time, I am not going to be the action hero. I am going to be the coward. And I think I am okay with that. TL;DR: Bought a old cop car, dude tries to carjack me, I bring beer and a casserole to a gunfight and didn't die. Got hit by a car and called a crazy person by the guy trying to carjack me. Edit: TL;DR and some mistakes. You get a comma, and YOU get a comma. Everybody gets commas!
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Oct 25, 2015 06:45
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 So, was the kid WATCHING and that's how he learned to rub his nipples? I am confused. sinburger posted:long post of wtf "tumblr hair"? Really? Really. Wow. Fleta Mcgurn has a new favorite as of 07:58 on Oct 25, 2015 |
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Oct 25, 2015 07:56
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bringmyfishback posted:
"I was having phone sex with my wife and my 5 year old son" well you see that's your problem Also that one with the carjacking was... Jesus, wow. Of all the S in this thread that DH, that one DHed the most. I'm never going to get back the minutes I spent reading that. Jesus gently caress.
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Oct 25, 2015 08:24
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sinburger posted:I have been sitting on this one for a while now. Partly because the responsible parties hadn’t been tried yet and mostly because I was lazy. I am trying to channel my inner u/El_Mono_Rojo but I don’t know how well I will do. He does all this training, but Mommy still buys his insurance. The only thing that is true in this mess.
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Oct 25, 2015 08:31
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All that talk about his "training" and all he actually did was fail to disarm the guy and scream like an idiot while getting his stuff stolen anyway after being shot at. The moral he should have gotten from that story had it actually happened is it'd have been much easier to just hand the keys over.
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Oct 25, 2015 10:06
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Murphy Brownback posted:All that talk about his "training" and all he actually did was fail to disarm the guy and scream like an idiot while getting his stuff stolen anyway after being shot at. The moral he should have gotten from that story had it actually happened is it'd have been much easier to just hand the keys over. That's what I gathered from all that bullshit too. Like, he gained nothing from his ludicrous attempts at self defence. He didn't even minimise his losses. I guess he... scared a black guy? And freaked out a girl? I laughed too at the fact that this master of unarmed combat supposedly has to rely on his mum for insurance. True alpha male here.
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Oct 25, 2015 11:59
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bringmyfishback posted:
He has phone sex the way people in movies talk on the phone. "What's that? You are rubbing your nipples? Ah, I like that. Hm? You say your pussy is wet?"
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Oct 25, 2015 14:47
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dijon du jour posted:He has phone sex the way people in movies talk on the phone. Keep going I'm almost there.
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Oct 25, 2015 15:21
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"Here look keep the engine running I just have to make the tea quickly" 
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Oct 25, 2015 15:23
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I'm sitting at a restaurant right now and this woman in the table in front of me just started breast feeding her baby. Sadly there's no security guard yelling arresting her or hysterical people shouting. Everyone is just talking like normal and eating their food and I don't see Albert Einstein anywhere or the marine professor. 0/5 stars edit: vvv oh poo poo you're right Boris Galerkin has a new favorite as of 19:28 on Oct 25, 2015 |
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Oct 25, 2015 16:00
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Boris Galerkin posted:I don't see Albert Einstein anywhere Who do you think the baby is
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Oct 25, 2015 16:21
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 quote:I kicked my then girlfriend out of my life when I found out she'd been cheating on me, It's been six years, but she still tries to make my life a problem.
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Oct 25, 2015 19:55
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Lol he was called out in the comments.. Tomothan 34 points : 5 replies : 8 hours ago reply share report permalink Hey OP: http://imgur.com/gallery/MZDMU3h Was it 6 or 9 Years ago? Whats with all the controversial posts on your account? You even have (1) I think someone has issues here and thats STH
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Oct 25, 2015 20:04
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I dunno guys I think this is poo poo that could happen. Maybe it was 2 separate ex-girlfriends? Or maybe his ex is a time witch. Definitely plausible in this forums poster's opinion. Best file it under poo poo that did happen!
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Oct 25, 2015 20:06
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I'm pretty sure rapists can have sisters as well as victims. Not sure why him having a sibling=innocence.
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Oct 25, 2015 20:15
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Foreword: I love the did it / didn't it; could have happened / didn't happen discussions. Why even be in this thread if you're not gonna enjoy people analyzing every story to death?Crow Jane posted:I'm pretty sure rapists can have sisters as well as victims. Not sure why him having a sibling=innocence. It's specifically his sister getting told her brother is a rapist. Presumably he isn't and she knows he isn't, so it's a blown bluff.
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Oct 25, 2015 20:46
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oops
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Oct 25, 2015 22:47
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kimbo305 posted:Foreword: I love the did it / didn't it; could have happened / didn't happen discussions. Why even be in this thread if you're not gonna enjoy people analyzing every story to death?
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Oct 25, 2015 23:38
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Whoever wrote that carjacking story has never seen someone get pistol whipped in real life. If he really had been pistol whipped hard enough to get knocked to the ground he'd have a very bloody very broken face.
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Oct 25, 2015 23:38
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Je suis fatigue posted:I agree, and it's not even like we're trying to decide if indeed a specific story happened as it was told. Most of those discussion are just "yeah I can see something like that happening, I have a similar anecdote, but that story is total bullshit" Desk Lamp posted:Whoever wrote that carjacking story has never seen someone get pistol whipped in real life. If he really had been pistol whipped hard enough to get knocked to the ground he'd have a very bloody very broken face. I say he would benefit from the experience
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Oct 25, 2015 23:49
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kimbo305 posted:It's specifically his sister getting told her brother is a rapist. Presumably he isn't and she knows he isn't, so it's a blown bluff. 
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Oct 25, 2015 23:54
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kimbo305 posted:Foreword: I love the did it / didn't it; could have happened / didn't happen discussions. Why even be in this thread if you're not gonna enjoy people analyzing every story to death? I do like the discussion of the STDH happen but I think there are differences in what people contribute. I think it's neat when something sounds like STDH but someone points out a myth or unknown fact that actually proves the story could well be true. When someone points out something many people missed in the story that adds another layer of dumbness to it that's cool, but otoh you have people trying to pick tiny mundane things as some an unbelievable aspect. I probably am a bit tired of the thread though between the reddit jokes and endless identical NAR stories. Stuff like that robbery story are still great though.
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Oct 25, 2015 23:57
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kimbo305 posted:It's specifically his sister getting told her brother is a rapist. Presumably he isn't and she knows he isn't, so it's a blown bluff. That still doesn't track. I don't imagine rapists discuss their rapes with siblings or family members, so "ha, I'm his sister and so I know he's not a rapist" is a pretty dumb defense.
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Oct 26, 2015 01:18
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MGTen posted:That still doesn't track. I don't imagine rapists discuss their rapes with siblings or family members, so "ha, I'm his sister and so I know he's not a rapist" is a pretty dumb defense. Obviously, there's a whole spectrum of how rapey someone can be, but if someone is telling that your brother is a repeat offender who's getting caught enough to have a reputation, I feel like you'd have enough info to make a call against it. But who knows, maybe sexual assaulters are really good at hiding that aspect from their close relatives. EmmyOk posted:but otoh you have people trying to pick tiny mundane things as some an unbelievable aspect.
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Oct 26, 2015 02:05
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The most likely explanation is thr brother has brutally raped the sister throughout their lives and she has repressed it as it's the only way she can function. Therefore it's only logical to conclude that she has built up a mind wall and is angered by the ex's accusations as it makes unpleasant memories and experiences resurface so she lashes out as the easiest target. Come on fellas, it's simple.
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Oct 26, 2015 02:24
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MGTen posted:That still doesn't track. I don't imagine rapists discuss their rapes with siblings or family members, so "ha, I'm his sister and so I know he's not a rapist" is a pretty dumb defense. Assuming the story is true, it goes like this: >ex is trying to ruin new relationships with op by spreading lies. >ex assumes woman op is with is a new love interest and so tries to sabotage the relationship >ex is dumb and mistaken because girl is ops sister, so he's not going to roofie her drink. Stop being obtuse, goons.
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Oct 26, 2015 02:45
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Wizard of Smart posted:Assuming the story is true, it goes like this: The correct answer kimbo305 posted:
More people should be below average posters like me though ofc if too many did that we'd become the new average and have to start over.
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Oct 26, 2015 04:25
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Oct 26, 2015 05:37
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He did laugh at you all right
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Oct 26, 2015 07:40
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She couldn't have been much of a gf if she didn't know his sister.
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Oct 26, 2015 08:13
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I don't know if it's entirely in line with what this thread is about, but I had this friend in highschool who was.. odd? I mean, he was pretty smart, but half the stories he told were purely STDH for some reason. The one that I remember the best was when he was describing World of Warcraft to me, just after the game was released and before I'd really ever seen it myself. In his story, he was at some Alliance castle and had heard that the Horde was coming to raid, so he and a bunch of people were preparing and waiting for them. Only he decided to be devious, and as an Alchemist, he was making potions for them to help - but with a twist. He poisoned the potions and then slipped away because he was secretly barracking for the Horde instead. This was told with no hint of him joking about it, like other stories of his - both real and STDH.
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Oct 27, 2015 01:20
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| # ? May 26, 2024 20:44 |
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Sure it was WoW? If it was some MUD I could see him doing that.
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Oct 27, 2015 01:22
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