Solice Kirsk posted:

I know the drunk driver thread which was sort of funny, but what the hell did you do to get the "child fucker"?

purple death ray posted:

I've never seen anyone ever describe another human being as a "degenerate" without also being a huuuuuuuuuge shithead about poor people, minorities, or women, so probably you can write that guy off

SniperWoreConverse posted:

I've seen non-shitheads use degenerate. Some people are just garbage bag humans. Unless my ability to judge character is flawed. Unless,

Unless I'M a shithead TOO

The Management posted:

Vampire room was yawn. We get it, narrator is an idiot. Maybe take a writing workshop or something.

SniperWoreConverse posted:

See, I would have took it into a different direction. Instead of doing obliviously dumb poo poo like ant infested planks, I'd make it so it turns out the wife delusionally believes she's a vampire

loquacius posted:

Vampires

SniperWoreConverse posted:

I'm gonna go with that's a scam entry because the labels are not hand lettered, and some of that poo poo is spilled out on like the mallet

I do believe actual ones exist and are probably worth money.

SniperWoreConverse posted:

I've seen non-shitheads use degenerate. Some people are just garbage bag humans. Unless my ability to judge character is flawed. Unless,

Unless I'M a shithead TOO

Solice Kirsk posted:

Hope you got a discount. Customer satisfaction is literally a hooker's job.

quote:

Lately I've been silently stalking the social media presence of a guy I went to high school with. We didn't really know each other back then but the few interactions I remember having with him were positive. Genuinely good guy, bit quiet. Six months back he tagged me (and a few hundred other people) in something on Facebook, and when I clicked through I was treated to an eight thousand word theory-of-everything manifesto with no paragraph breaks or any proper formatting. Since last fall I've been checking in on his Facebook and Twitter a few times a week, and from what he's been posting on each, the rough backstory I've pieced together is that he got really into ketamine and benzos after HS and more or less completely cracked five years ago. Most of his activity on social media is just him shouting into the void; even though he tweets dozens of times most days I've never seen anyone reply to him, and it's pretty much the same story on Facebook.

This is a confession because stalking this guy is making me feel considerably better about my own mental health and not-exactly-healthy lifestyle. I'm a fuckup but at least I'm not so far gone that I'm spending my days tweeting screenshots of my desktop and shouting at ISIS hackers to get out of my computer, and that's comforting. I'll be gutted if this guy ever disappears because he's my main benchmark for feeling reassured that I'm not totally loving nuts. I'm definitely an rear end in a top hat though.

quote:

There is a major furry convention (AnthroCon) which comes to my city every year. 2 years ago the news channel I work for sent some people to do a story on it. It was a pretty popular news story and, to top it, last year they chose to send a reporter undercover to get the real story.

I was chosen to go undercover. The station consulted with a local furry, who loaned us a full body costume, told us some basic furry community guidelines, and stuck close to me throughout the convention. My confession is that this was the greatest day of my life, and I realized I was a furry deep down for my entire life.

I enjoyed walking around and meeting the other furries. I got hugs, high fives, and cuddles from dozens and dozens of furries. It made me feel loved for the first time in a long time. The art made by other furries was beautiful, I bought a painting which now proudly hangs over my couch. I had delicious food, attended several discussion panels with leaders in the furry community, and made lifelong friends who I still talk to.

Our story aired on TV and my girlfriend watched it. She laughed and said "Good thing you aren't really a furry". That was the end of that, we broke up the next day. Since then I've become a bit more active in the furry community, and have started dating another furry. She's a much better fit for me than any non-fur woman ever was, and I'm truly happy.

loquacius posted:

LethalGeek posted:

I think I would drown myself if I found myself digging the horrible bunch of people that are furries.

quote:

My dad terrified our family for years. He had a shotgun that hung over the fireplace, and if you did anything wrong, it would come down. Sometimes even if you did nothing wrong he'd point it at you, just to scare you.

One night I woke up to find my dad laying in bed with me. He had the gun pointed against my spine, and whispered in my ear "If you ever do me wrong I'll pull the trigger". I pretended to be asleep but I think he knew I heard him. He laid there for about 15 minutes, then left. I didn't sleep all night.

That was the most extreme I suffered, but these kind of things happened weekly in our home. He'd scare me or my little sister, and he was 100x worse to our mother. I don't know how she didn't break in to tears constantly. At the same time, I wish she called the police before things got really bad, but I understand why she didn't.

One day my mom just passed out while we were eating dinner. Fell head first in to her mashed potatoes. My sister and I both screamed and our dad got the gun down and told us not to say anything while pointing it at us. He dragged mom to the living room floor. I still remember seeing blood pooling between her legs and, although she never said what happened, I assume my dad had raped her.

Four days later our grandpa (mom's dad) showed up for the first time in years. He lived across the country and, though he called often, he couldn't afford to visit. He hugged us both then told us to play outside. I heard a lot of yelling from inside the house, then saw dad get in his truck and drive away. And that was the last time we ever saw him. We never found out what happened there, either.

I still have a fear of guns to this day.

quote:

I have submitted a ton of confessions for this thread. I'm hesitant to say a majority because I don't really keep track, but it's probably close. I'm sure you're all thinking I'm the one sending in the obvious fake ones about aliens and all but I've never submitted a fully made up one. They are either all true or, more often, the premise is true but I embellish on it to get a rise out of people. The only exceptions are ones I submitted for the earlier threads. In those I occasionally would completely make something up just to troll people with stories about drunk driving, abuse, rape and such, but I try to be more subtle now.

It's sometimes interesting to see which ones goons will focus on and which ones just get ignored. It doesn't always go the way I expect. I am somewhat proud of the fact that only a handful of them got called out as probably fake.

With that said, I do this in real life too. I make up stories to try and entertain my friends and at least half is complete bullshit. I'm not sending this as a kind of "puppetmaster" own or whatever, I guess I'm just very bored and want people to believe my life is more exciting than it actually is.

LingcodKilla posted:

Second story? Girl? Furry? Yeah sure buddy.

loquacius posted:

The interesting part of this to me, and the reason I posted it, is that the fake-feshes fesh might be itself fake

Literally anyone could send in an "I made every single one of these up" confession regardless of whether they'd ever written one before, or how many they did write

Personally I'm gonna assume this person wrote all the fetish feshes after watching one video (or reading one lovely fanfic) of each fetish and imagining what it'd be like if that was their Main Thing

LingcodKilla posted:

You should appreciate the pistol now.

quote:

My baby brother was born when I was in elementary school, and we knew right away that he wasn't right. He didn't cry, if he was angry he'd let out this high pitched screeching sound. Otherwise, he'd just sit there quietly. My parents took him to see a doctor and I'm sure he was diagnosed with something. But they never told me, they just said he had a hard time learning. I called him retarded, but I know that's probably not the correct term nowadays. I also didn't mean it in a mean or cruel way, it's just how I understood things.

My parents were ashamed of him and he was never in family photos, never went out with us, never came to family get-togethers. It would have bothered me and turned me bitter as hell, I can't imagine what it did to my baby brother. I don't think he was young enough or developed enough to really understand it, but he became more and more withdrawn and would have occasional violent outbursts. Never against people, he'd just start pounding his fists on the ground or throwing things at the wall.

Eventually my parents kept him locked in his room when he was at home, only letting him out for dinner and an hour of TV a night. He was about 10 at this point. Went to a special school most of the day. I still loved him and we were as close as 2 brothers could be and we spent all his free time together. I went to college a few years after this prison sentence started and only came home once every few months. I called my brother on the phone every night and would play recordings of stuff I saw during the day. Guys on the street playing music, the sounds of traffic - things he never got to hear since my family lived in the boondocks and never took him out. He loved it and I loved getting to share things with him. I barely talked to my parents at this point, going to college had really made me realize how awful they were as people.

One weekend I snuck my brother out and took him to my college. I left a note for my parents, but didn't see them. We drove to a nearby zoo and spent the day there, then went out for dinner. I introduced him to all my friends, showed him the campus, and we played video games with my roommate. He told me this was the best day ever and that he loved me.

I took him home around 4 am and my parents weren't even home yet - the note was untouched. I told my brother I loved him and that, once I graduated, I'd take him with me wherever I went. We both cried for a long time then. I cried because I was worried I couldn't give my brother the life he wanted, and felt ashamed that my parents treated him this way. I think my brother cried because he finally understood what life could be like.

A few weeks later I got a frantic call from my uncle. My dad had stopped showing up to work and people had gotten worried after a few days. They tried calling him at home but couldn't reach him. Eventually somebody went out there to check on him; they found my brother all by himself. He'd been going to school, coming home, and following all the rules my parents set. When they asked where my Dad was, he said he and Mom just stopped coming home. He'd cook for himself and cleaned the house if he made a mess, but otherwise he'd just watch an hour of TV after school and then go up to his room.

My parents were declared legally dead 7 years later. Never found, never reached out to anyone. As far as I know, they may have been missing from the day I picked up my brother - I never talked to them after that. They may have been gone longer than that, it had been weeks since I'd talk to them before that.

I adopted my brother once I got out of college. He spent some time in a foster home between my parents' disappearance and then. Everyone said he was the sweetest kid they ever met, and I agree with that. He's still my best buddy, and thanks to the inheritance I eventually got from my parents, I can make up for all the boredom and isolation my parents inflicted on him.

I do not know what happened to my parents. The police investigated me and my brother due to the financial impact - my parents had a fortune of about 3 million dollars without even considering the house. I didn't do anything and honestly don't believe my brother did either. When the police found out about the abuse on my brother, they told us both that we would be justified in hating our parents. I said "It's true, and I do hate them, but I didn't do anything to them and wouldn't ruin my life just to punish them." That was a tough year and a lot of friends of my parents assumed I did it, but I can say right now I did not.

A neighbor reported seeing a red cadillac driving past the house a few times, but that's the closest we ever got to an actual lead. I keep expecting an email or letter from them, but it never comes. I truly do believe they're dead somewhere, and I don't feel much sadness at that.

quote:

The neighborhood where my husband and I live recently had a string of break-ins. They caught the guy - he was a local kid who was most likely doing it for drug money. But it spooked us both a bit and we looked in to ways to protect the home. I suggested updating a few of the easily accessible windows to be glass block and getting a home security system. My husband dismissed that as too expensive and suggested getting a gun.

I am not a fan of guns in the house. I've done my research and, unless you're a police officer , I don't see any benefit to carrying around a gun or keeping one in the house. But I love my husband and agreed that we would look in to guns - we would test it out, research together, go to a firing range, etc.

My husband and I scheduled some time at a local firing range with a co-worker of his. Now a small bit of backstory - my husband and this coworker used to date years ago. But they mutually broke up way before we ever met. He's admitted she has a bit of crush of him but he would never act on it. So the day comes that we're going to try shooting. We try a few different handguns that she owns, and aim at a few different targets. I'm able to do pretty good with the close target, but suck pretty badly at the mid range and far target. As we practice I get a little better, but do not enjoy it and admit that I wouldn't feel safe using a gun, even with a lot of training.

My husband is even worse. He doesn't hit the far away or the mid target at all, and only has one bullet out of 8 hit the close target. He practices and practices and seemingly gets worse - by the end of the day he was firing wildly and hitting trees on the side of the course somehow. I am convinced this is the end of the discussion, but I was wrong. Candice, my husband's coworker, continues to rave about what a good shot he is and how tough he looks holding a gun. On the ride home my husband will not shut up about how great he felt shooting the gun and how safe he felt with it. I said "Is this just because Candice said you looked tough? Because you weren't shooting very well." That led to a massive argument and he slept on the couch that night because he "wouldn't share a bed with a woman who questioned my masculinity".

We are at an impasse right now and continue to argue. My husband wants a gun, I don't. To his credit, he won't buy one until I agree to it. But there is another issue: Candice.

She took us shooting one other time. At the beginning she was mentioning that you don't point a gun at anything you don't intend to destroy. Then she made a finger gun, pointed it at me, and winked at me. It was the end of "Death Wish" and it scared me really bad. I fired a few shots and called it a day; my husband spent nearly 2 hours shooting and had about as much success as our first trip. Candice again said he did amazing and that he was a natural with the gun.

Since then, they have started texting each other after work. Mostly sending pictures and memes of guns. Stuff like a pool shaped like a pistol, with text like "I'd love to go swimming there!". Harmless stuff and my husband openly shows it to me, so I know there's no funny business going on. But it still bothers me. I would seriously appreciate advice or an outside opinion - as it is we're stuck in this situation where my husband won't buy a gun, but obviously wants one, and Candice obviously wants to gently caress him.

loquacius posted:

Candice posted:

don't point a gun at anything you don't intend to destroy.

The Royal Nonesuch posted:

and he gets to buy a shotgun... much easier to hit targets with, and legit for home defense.

The Royal Nonesuch posted:

Also for the love of god research your state's self-defense/castle doctrine laws before either one of you goes and blasts some kid trying to steal tools out of the garage ffs.

loquacius posted:

There is a major furry convention (AnthroCon) which comes to my city every year. 2 years ago the news channel I work for sent some people to do a story on it. It was a pretty popular news story and, to top it, last year they chose to send a reporter undercover to get the real story.

I was chosen to go undercover. The station consulted with a local furry, who loaned us a full body costume, told us some basic furry community guidelines, and stuck close to me throughout the convention. My confession is that this was the greatest day of my life, and I realized I was a furry deep down for my entire life.

I enjoyed walking around and meeting the other furries. I got hugs, high fives, and cuddles from dozens and dozens of furries. It made me feel loved for the first time in a long time. The art made by other furries was beautiful, I bought a painting which now proudly hangs over my couch. I had delicious food, attended several discussion panels with leaders in the furry community, and made lifelong friends who I still talk to.

Our story aired on TV and my girlfriend watched it. She laughed and said "Good thing you aren't really a furry". That was the end of that, we broke up the next day. Since then I've become a bit more active in the furry community, and have started dating another furry. She's a much better fit for me than any non-fur woman ever was, and I'm truly happy.