shit_that_didnt_happen.txt: TRUE WISDOM FROM WHERE YOU EXPECT IT LEAST. AMEN!

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ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

KiddieGrinder posted:

It came from tumblr:

Even has applauding at the end. I was hoping the [cop] and [protagonist] would get married, but, can't have it all.

This seems like poo poo that very well could have happened up until "Lady" magically transformed into "Lady Cop" and adopted a Not Always Right style of speech.

# ¿ May 7, 2014 00:45

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# ¿ May 10, 2024 08:47

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Here's a repost of a classic from the last thread:

quote:

I'm about 6'7'' so even when I'm just trying to be friendly (i.e. not farting on a stanger kid's head) and meeting a family member's or friend's kid for the first time, I've noticed they get very 'hide between their mother's legs' intimidated on sight if I'm not sitting down. So it's not hard for me to silence/intimidate a child, especially when I'm trying to.

However, a few times I've been called out. One time I was pretty drunk with a friend at a Target buying Risk (and no, we never finished playing the whole game). This little mexican 5-7 year old with a mohawk, was being an insufferable little poo poo in the action figure section. I heard him from like 5 aisles over and it was like nails on a chalkboard. I tell my friend, "I'm gonna fart on this kids head. Watch and learn."

I saunter on over to the aisle in question and see the vile little prick calling his mom an "idiot" for not buying him a huge loving G.I. JOE The Movie vehicle (which pissed me off even more considering how awful that movie was. BUY SOME GOOD TOYS!) "I already bought that one for you and you broke it by throwing it down the stairs" "SHUT UP. I NEED IT. IT'S THE ONLY ONE I DON'T HAVE NOW." The mother was younger than me (I'm mid twenties) and gave a defeated look, "I don't have enough money right now." "YOU ARE AN IDIOT," and continued to just berate and publicly shame this woman.

At the time, I was on a strict Chipotle carnitas burrito diet. And while I was watching all this, my stomach gave me an initial warning gurgle (very courteous stomach) telling me I was about an hour away from punishing the toilet. Serendipity! Destiny!
I inch a bit closer to my prey, inspecting some wrestling toys and pondering the weird homoeroticness of the whole 'sport' in general. The kid shouts "gently caress YOU, I HATE YOU!" The mom rolls her eyes and turns her back to the kid to ignore him. And could you believe it, the kid gets on his hands and knees and starts taking the toy out of the box. It's go time, motherfucker.
I position my back towards him and at this point am like 2 feet away from him. His head is down, getting frustrated with those god drat twisty tie things, and I go for the kill. I bend down to reach for the one of the toys on the lower shelf. At this point, my rear end is INCHES away from this kids head.

Now, generally speaking, the best way to go about this is to act casual, drop your belly bomb, then walk away after a few seconds like nothing is out of the ordinary. I usually go one aisle over and listen to the kid's reaction in delight. However, today I couldn't help myself. I have my head tilted back looking at this kid out of the corner of my eye, to ensure accuracy.
I'm so close that from a distance it looks like I'm about to sit on him,. My friend sees this happening and can no longer contain himself. He's covering his mouth, but his 'hee-haw' hyperventilating donkey chortle is fairly audible over the late 90's pop muzak playing on the loudspeakers.

The kid immediately looks up towards the laughter, but can't help but notice there is an rear end now directly in his face. Now, I'm trying not to laugh but also panicking as I just made eye contact with him. He furls his brow and I look over in the mother's direction, still back towards us. I relish in the moment and the look on this child's confused and naive face.
The initial blast was mighty and boisterous. I swear I saw his hair blowing in the wind (so to speak). If I wasn't wearing jeans, I think it could have probably blown over an empty soda can. I would call it "a very fun fart" (A++ would buy again). However, what immediately followed that out the chamber was truly horrifying. The fart's implication changed without notice and swiftly. It went from a joyous, dry airhorn squeal to a nefarious, hissing mephitis. I think the little moppet noticed the hateful metamorphosis before even I did because he wretched his neck violently trying to get away from the personified evil being fumigated into his soul. Because of his positioning (hovering over the toy, hands and knee), it was all in vain as the only way out was forward...and forward would mean certain death. I had positioned myself well on the higher ground, free to escape or relent at any time and him, poor and immobilized: biding his time until the cruel attack was over. Obviously, this child needed to re-read Sun Tzu.

In total, it lasted about 4 seconds but for that kid, it must have seemed like time was frozen. The long-term severe brain damage which he no doubt suffered, only added to that effect.

When I finished with my bidness (i.e. forcing a little boy to huff my farts), there was a silent, pregnant pause. The kid was clearly shocked and stunned. No one had ever stood up to this dwarf sociopath in his whole life. I had taken the words out of his mouth and filled it with fart.

I make my move first, picking up the toy I was "reaching for" off the low shelf, take a few steps forward and stare at it for a few seconds. On '2 alligator,' the only thing the kid could manage to do was burst into tears. My friend senses danger 'the jig is up' and his head darts for cover. The mom turns around to see her kid with an open toy, crying on the floor and me minding my own business.

She walks up to him and asks what's wrong but the kid can't speak. All he gets out is, "BAWAWAAAWAFARTBAWAWA." It took every fiber in my body not to laugh. I put the toy back on a middle shelf, turn around, give a final nonchalant looksy and then begin to take my exit.

Sensing that his assailant was getting away scot-free, he somehow managed to compose himself for a moment. He shouts, "HE FARTED ON ME!" I could feel him pointing at me but I continued to act like I was just browsing. I was ALMOST around the corner when the mom goes:
"Excuse me....sir....SIR!"
I turn around nonplussed, "Uh...who? Me?" while pointing to myself.
"Yes. Did YOU just FART on my son?"
Weighing my options, I played dumb. "What? I mean, I did fart."
"On my son?"
"Well, I mean, technically speaking...I mean...what is 'on'?"
"Why did you fart on my son?"

At this point the little kid has the look of schadenfreude on his face, happy to see me in trouble. gently caress you, I'M A MAN! I WILL FART ON YOU IF I PLEASE! I turn my attention to the little kid and stare at him, "Because the whole store could hear him being a little, rotten rear end in a top hat to his mother so I thought I'd come over here and treat him like one."
The mom looks at me, her son and the scattered GI JOE/wrappers/box on the floor. The mom is puzzled as to what to do and says, "Just..just go." That's my cue! I turn around, walk away with little extra step. I look up to see the black orb of security cameras and all the stories on reddit about unjustly having to register as a sex offender flash before my eyes. As soon as I turn the corner, I book it outside as fast as I can while dialing my friend. Like a true friend, he is right out front with the engine running and Risk in the trunk.

We laugh on the car ride back about the whole scene. With a slight hint of seriousness in his tone, my friend asks me:
"Do you do that a lot?"

"Ahhh, not that much. Like once every 6 months or so."

We both knew I was lying. We got to our other friends house, played risk until 4 in the morning while drinking scotch. Overall, I would say it was a preeeetay preeeeetay good day.

# ¿ May 10, 2014 07:36

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Just one more favorite from the old thread.

How do I build an underwater city like in Bioshock? posted:

I�ve had a very interesting turn of events happen in my life recently, and I'm still in a state of shock (sort of). I just recently quit my job because I got into a spat with a co-worker and I decided that I wasn't going to be able to work at the company anymore as long as he was there. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, so I gave the ol� 2-second notice, grabbed my poo poo, and walked out. Irrational? Oh yeah. So where does Bioshock, and a chance to plan an underwater city come into picture? Well, here is how it happened:

Where did I work? That will go unnamed (as well as some other things...loving internet detectives), but I will tell you it was a large oil and gas company. I was a systems administrator, and basically spent the entire day in a server room doing server maintenance, making sure the network was functioning correctly, and all the other good stuff sys-admins take care of. Sometimes I would get bored and walk around and bullshit with people. During one of my walks, I encountered a man of Middle Eastern decent. This is not uncommon at all when you work in the oil and gas industry.

For the sake of this, I�m going to call him Ahmed (not his real name). He looked extremely bored out of his mind, and a little anxious. I hadn�t seen him around before, so I introduced myself and we got to talking. He talked about his life in �The Kingdom� and I told him about mine here in the states. It was at this moment I found out he was an extremely wealthy oil baron, and more or less despised the religious overtones of his fellow Middle Eastern brethren. Turns out he was a capitalist at heart, and believed that Islam�s overzealous approach...to uh, everything, was a hindrance to business and was very annoying to him. Not your typical Middle Eastern man indeed.

I suddenly became worried because I had just spent the last hour conversing and going on with an extremely important client. And of course, not a minute later the room began to fill with executives. They were all eyeballing me, probably wondering what the hell the sys-admin was doing in the executive conference room with Ahmed. Turns out the plane with the executives Ahmed was supposed to meet with had been delayed and they had been breaking all kinds of traffic laws to get back to the office ASAP. They were extremely apologetic for keeping him waiting. He laughed and said he had thought about leaving except that I (pointing at me as I was trying to leave the room) had kept him entertained while he had been waiting. I did one of those fake �ha-ha� laughs and waved goodbye as I ran back to my server room to hide.

I expected to get a phone call later about how I almost hosed up some huge deal, yadda yadda yadda, but it never came. I gave a sigh of relief and went back to watching House on one screen while Wire Shark displayed some interesting stuff on the other. Then it happened, my desk phone rang. What could it be? The internet was up, the T1�s going to the VoIP phone system were all online, there were no disk faults on the SAN...why was I being called? It was coming from the Vice President of International Relations. Great. Here it comes. Here was me about to get bitched out. Boy was I going to be surprised with what was going to happen next.

Turns out I had inadvertently saved the day by talking to Ahmed. What had happened was [NAME REMOVED] had been put in charge of waking everyone up at the hotel so they could catch the early flight out back to Houston. [NAME REMOVED] had gotten drunk the night before, slept in, and caused everyone to miss the early A.M. flight. This meant that if everything went on schedule they would barely make it to the meeting with Ahmed taking the next flight...and it had been delayed. Ahmed didn�t like to wait, and would have probably had left it hadn�t been for me talking to him in the interim. So the conversation went something like this:

VP: �HypeTelecon, what are you doing tonight?�

Me: �Well, it�s Friday night, I�m probably going to go out with my frie-�

VP: �No you�re not. You�re going to go out with Ahmed.�

Me: �Uh, what? You want me to go hang out with a 30 somethings middle eastern man?�

VP: �Yeah, funny thing, turns out he has requested that you come out with him tonight instead of the client entertainer we normally use.�

Me: �So...what exactly would I be doing?�

VP: �More than likely you�ll take him out to eat at one of the 5 star restaurants, and then whatever else he wants to do.�

Me: �And what exactly would that be? I'm not sleeping with him.�

VP: �HAHA, no, not that. Well, to be honest, you will probably end up taking a limo to a lot of dance and strip clubs, getting drunk beyond all belief and generally having the time of your life. Probably get a lot of rear end too.�

Me: �I�m sorry...did I just hear that...from a 40 something year old executive...? I must be dreaming or someone put something in my lun-�

VP: �Yeah, you see, some of these guys that come over here to do business with us are not religious at all and love to party. We show them a good time, they sign deals with us. We tend to turn a blind eye to this sort of thing and use a client entertainer to handle all the knitty-gritties. This situation, however, is a little different. He has taking a liking to you for whatever reason, and wants to party with you. We have been trying to get this guy to sign FOR A LONG TIME and [NAME REMOVED] drat near hosed it up again. You�d be helping us out a lot by doing this. I realize I�m making some gross assumptions about you, but I figured you being in your early 20�s and all you�d jump at the chance for something like this.�

Me: �Who is going to be paying for all this fun and excitement?�

VP: �You�ll be given a company amex to take care of everything.�

Me: �SOLD.�

VP: �Excellent. Come by my office to get everything you�ll need. I'm going to call amex right now and add you as an authorized user of the corporate card. Oh yeah, you�ll probably be doing this all again Saturday night as well.�

Me: �Dear diary, jackpot.� *CLICK*

So I went to his office, and he gave me a �corporate amex�. I was instructed to go get fitted for a suit since he knew nothing I owned would be good enough. What a jerkface! But it was true; I wore a polo-shirt and jeans to work every day. I didn�t really need a nice suit. Since the company was footing the bill for this, I decided I�d go with the classic tux. It�s truly amazing how fast you can be tailored for one of these things when you say you�re buying the thing outright, heh. Just say, "Charge it!"

I called Mr. VP of International Relations and let him know I had the appropriate apparel for the evening. He said, �Good,� and then gave me directions to the hotel Ahmed was staying at. He told me he had already emailed the limo company I was to use to my phone, and to keep in mind the Middle Eastern do�s and dont's he had gone over with me in his office. And then of course the big thing, keep mentioning how thankful the company was for working with him and that I hoped that he signed come Monday. He also kept going on about how much of a stellar employee I was for doing this and that I could expect some surprises for myself come Monday if everything went well. Yawn. Whatever.

The drive downtown was a little annoying, but soon enough I made my way to the Inter-Continental Houston Hotel. If you haven�t seen it, it truly is a timeless sight. Before I went and located Ahmed, I booked myself a room for the weekend, and prepaid in full. If we did party again Saturday, I�ll be covered, if not, I�m staying anyways, heh. The cute blonde behind the counter must have thought something was up. Young 20�s something, wearing a tux, booking a room on the fly and paying the ridiculous rate all on a corporate amex...yeah I�d probably think that was fishy too.

I told her I was youngest executive at [COMPANY NAME REMOVED] and that I was here to entertain a client that was going to be signing a multi-million dollar contract on Monday. This just added to skepticism and she called a manager over. I'm sure the manager's bullshit alarm and fraud detector were going ape-poo poo. I placed my driver�s license on the counter and told them to call amex if they didn�t believe me. After verifying that I was an authorized user of the card, they suddenly became a 100 times nicer to me. Who would've thought? I also joked with the blonde about coming up to my room when she got off work. Cue face turning red and girly laughing. Sweet. I like this pretending to be an executive thing.

Anyways, after dropping the little stuff I had brought with me in my room, I found Ahmed�s room and knocked on the door. He opened the door and shouted, �HypeTelecon! So nice to see you again! We are going to have a great time tonight!� I asked where he wanted to eat, and to my shock, he responded with, �Take me to the best steak house here in the city of Houston.� Now, I�m no cultural expert by any means, but even I knew this was outlandish. I waited for the punch line of the joke, but he was 100% serious. Apparently he loves his steak, and can only eat it when he is here by himself in the states for obvious reasons.

So I called Ruth Chris (maybe not the best steak house in Houston, but it has to be drat close), explained that I was going to need a private party room and to pull out all the stops. They were more than eager to accommodate me, especially when I asked if they took the corporate amex, heh. The limo showed up just a little before 7pm, and off we were to eat delicious steak. And I must say, the steak and wine were to die for. Ahmed was thoroughly impressed, and said it was by far the best steak he had ever eaten. At this point, I had to ask him why he wanted to hang out with me over the guy they had lined up. He replied, �You have been the first person here that treated me like an equal, you weren�t scared to talk to me even though my wealth extends beyond anything imaginable, and you aren�t always doubling-back your words if you say something I find displeasing. You treat me like a friend and that is extremely important to me.� Heh, wow, I didn�t know what to say, so I raised my wine glass and toasted to friendship and a fun rest of the night. He didn't have to know that if I had known all of those things I would've have said a word to him in the first place.

Now it was time to party. We went from dance club to dance club, and lived it up like no tomorrow. We danced with amazingly hot (but extremely shallow) girls, had all kinds of alcohol, and just had an awesome time in general. When you have no limits on the funds, the party doesn�t stop. I wanted to see the look on the accountant�s face come Monday when they checked the bill. After lots of dancing and drinking, it was time to hit up the strip clubs. We bounced around from Gold Cup, Centerfolds, Colorado Bar and Grill, The Men�s Club, and finally decided to end the night at Treasures. It was almost 1am at this point, but again, show a �corporate amex� and they literally bend over for you...get it, bend over?

So after watching some stage performances and having a few private lap dances, it was getting close to closing time. By this time, we had quite the number of ladies hanging around our table. Ahmed was essentially what you could call a �Middle Eastern Playboy.� He was one of those �hot foreigners� that all the ladies wanted to gently caress, and not one of the �ugly foreigners� that spend most of their time in strip clubs because those are the only girls they can get to touch them...in exchange for money.

With about 10 minutes to close, Ahmed just comes out with it and says, �Ok, which of you lovely ladies wants to come back to the hotel with me and my friend HypeTelecon here? We have a limo waiting for us outside, and we both have rooms as the Inter-Continental Houston Hotel.� I would imagine everything mentioned in that sentence, plus the roll of 100�s he took out of his pocket made everyone of those strippers dripping wet. I had no problem with this. They whispered amongst themselves, and said that they were all up for it. Ahmed had a thing for blondes, and picked the two hottest ones at the table. He looked at me and then said, �Now HypeTelecon, you pick your two, and I�ll see you back at the limo.� He then stood up, and the two blondes scampered into the back to get their things.

Suddenly all eyes were on me. I had an assortment of cash-starved strippers begging me to pick them. Now, I could�ve sworn the one stripper I dated briefly told me there was a huge difference between strippers and prostitutes, and that not all strippers were prostitutes. Yeah, I wasn�t seeing that at all right now. I picked the young looking Asian women with the perky tits, and the euro-trash red that had somehow managed to bend ways I didn�t think the human body could in her stage performance. The others whined in disgust as the two I picked trotted off to the dressing room to grab their things. Then all six of us headed outside to the limo.

As I made out with the Asian while the red massaged my junk, I could only think this is what is must be like to be Collin Ferrell every night. Money, such a grand thing to have a lot of. It must have been quite a sight to see two extremely drunk men both being escorted by two extremely hot strippers to their rooms. I wonder if the blonde I had flirted with earlier saw this spectacle? Oh well, like it mattered anyways. Ahmed then paid my whores, and we parted ways to go to our rooms. All I can say is that the next few hours were pure ecstasy. I could describe it all to you, but this isn't some fan fiction designed to get you horny. Or is it? Na, not really.

After all the fun and excitement had died down, I found myself resting between two naked strippers. They�re both sleeping soundly, probably dreaming of what they are going to both buy with tonight�s big score. I yawn, and then the phone rings. Who the gently caress would be calling my hotel room at 7 A.M. in the loving morning? Who the hell even knows this number?! Turns out it is Ahmed, he is bored and can�t sleep. I ask him how the hell he can be bored with two blondes lying naked in his bed. He tells me, �My dick is broke. I need something else to do while it recovers.� Then he asks me if there is some way we can play that video game I was going on about all night. Cue question mark over my head. Video game I was going on about? He says, �Yeah, you know, the one about the underwater city, and the crazy genetics. Bio-something or another?�

If there was ever a moment in my life when I felt like the biggest nerd ever, it would definitely be now. Apparently at one of the strip clubs, I had been going on about Bioshock to Ahmed and the strippers at our table. Ahmed had decided he wanted to see what all the fuss was about and wanted me to play it with him. I told him we would have to go somewhere and buy an Xbox360, and the game itself. He said he doesn�t care, and to meet him downstairs ASAP. So, I tell my lovely ladies me and Ahmed are going to run an errand. They say, �Ok, whatever,� stretch, yawn, and snuggle up with each other, boobs to boobs. loving HOT. So resisting the urge to dive between them and repeat what I was doing only hours earlier, I put my tux back on, and take the elevator downstairs.

I meet Ahmed in the lobby. He is still wearing the same thing he wore the night before too. A couple of real class acts right here folks. So we then pile in my car, and I try to think of a place where I can buy an xbox360 and the game Bioshock at 7:45 AM in the loving morning. GameStop is out, as those communists apparently don�t open until 9:00 AM or some poo poo. He gets upset, as again, he doesn�t like waiting, but then I tell him we could get it 100% for sure at Wal-Mart at this hour. He agrees, so I begin driving to the closet Wal-Mart in the area. Thank god for Garmin GPS.

Now, this had to be the sight of all sights. You have an American man wearing a full tux and the other a Middle Eastern man sporting a Brioni suit, both walking in Wal-Mart half-drunk and half-asleep. We head back to the electronics section (everyone eyeballing us as we walk by) and find the game consoles. I tell the sales lackey with the key that I am going to need an elite xbox360, and the game Bioshock. The guy looks at me in disbelief as he gets the items I have requested and brings them to the electronics checkout counter. Ahmed insists on paying, and pays for everything in cash. Yikes! Doesn�t he know it�s a bad idea to carry thousands of dollars around on your person? Apparently not.

So with game and game console in-towe, we return to the hotel. We head up to Ahmed�s room, and I set everything up. Luckily the TVs in the rooms had front inputs, otherwise I bet I would�ve found myself going back to Wal-Mart to buy a plasma or something. I put in the game and start it up. I try and hand him the controller, but he says he wants to watch me play. So I play Bioshock. He watches in awe for sometime, and then begins to ask me questions about why I like this game so much. I tell him I like the concept of a city underwater, away from everything else, were people can thrive without government influence (yes folks, I�m a libertarian). He seems intrigued by the concept as well.

I pause the game, and we get into a huge discussion about what we would do if we could create such a place in real life. I don�t know how long we had been going on about all this, but at some point the two blonde strippers woke up, and started laughing at us. We both look at them with a �What?!� look on our faces, they laugh harder and call us a bunch of nerds. Then Ahmed dives on top of them and says, �I�ll show you nerd.� I take that as cue to exit stage left and return to my room. I like the guy, but no way in hell I�m having a 4some with him. I return to my room with the sleeping wenches. They are still snuggled together, except now they are spooning each other. So I do what any normal man would, strip down to nothing and jump in bed with them.

Now, I could go on about what I did the rest of the day, or the encore party me and Ahmed had Saturday night, but that�s not really important. What is important is that I had planted the idea of creating something where Ahmed could do business as he pleased without having to deal with �religion police� and stupid archaic laws (as he called him) that were stifling his fund-making abilities. Couldn�t be hurting TOO BAD, but whatever.

Monday comes, and I stroll in at 8:00 AM and I�m immediately called into the executive conference room. I see Mr. VP of International Relations, sweating bullets while standing at the podium, and just about every other VP I had ever met was sitting around the conference table. He asked, �So, HypeTelecon, is he going to sign the contract?� I froze, and must have turned white as a ghost. I had totally forgotten to talk up the contact-signing. So I did what any other person in my position would do and said, �Oh yeah, it�s a done deal. He is going to come in here and let the ink fly!� and then I gave a huge thumbs up and a huge wink. This was followed by murmuring amongst themselves and then dead silence when Ahmed walked in.

The CEO stood up, shook his hand, and then asked, �So have you come to a decision?� Ahmed replied, �Yes, I have. I am impressed with your company, the terms are more than fair, and the hospitality HypeTelecon has showed me was excellent. I have decided to sign the contract and do business with all of you.� And the executives rejoiced! My heart started beating again, and my skin pigment returned. Mr. VP of International Relations winked at me, and I winked back at him. It was totally a gay moment. Ahmed went through the contract and signed this, dotted that, all while both sets of lawyers scrutinized every line item to make sure no last-minute tom-foolery had taken place. As for me, I went back to my server room. Today was Venture Brothers marathon day, and of course, more Wire Shark.

Then, about half way through �20 Years to Midnight� I got a call from Mr. VP of International Relations again. Turns out Ahmed would be flying out later that day and he wanted to say goodbye. I met him and Ahmed at the front of the building. He gave me a firm handshake and said, �I had a great time this weekend. I�ve told [NAME REMOVED] here to make sure they inform you of when I come back to visit so we can go out again. Which, apparently is going to be a lot more frequent now.� I told him I�d be honored to keep him company anytime he was in town. I shook his hand again, and he got into the cab to take him off to the airport.

Mr. VP of International Relations looked at me and said, �Wow, you made quite an impression on him. What exactly did you guys do this weekend?� I started to tell him of our adventures in debauchery, but he cut me off saying if I went any further he�d probably end up coming out with us next time and end up cheating on his wife, and that he couldn�t afford to do that since he had a daughter and some other yadda yadda yadda, whatever. Then he told me I had to report to accounting to go over every line item on the corporate amex I had used during the weekend. Oh goody. Let me tell you, confirming all of those charges while Jesus freak of a CPA read them all off to me was very pleasant. I kept waiting for her to bust out the holy water and crucifix and start beating me to death. But, I guess this was nothing out of the ordinary, nor the fact that I had rang up over $10,000 bucks in charges. No, nothing to see here, just move along and don�t stare.

So about once a month, Ahmed would fly in for the week to yammer over figures, find out what in god�s name his money was being spent on, and then of course we would party like crazy on the weekends. Mr. VP of International Relations took great care in keeping a tight lid on who knew it was actually me �entertaining� Ahmed while he was in town. God, that just sounds dirty, doesn�t it? But eventually a rumor broke out...I think it was after that one time we decided to party on Sunday night too and I showed up to work hammered, but it�s anyone�s guess really. The top level executives didn�t seem to give a flying gently caress about what was going on behind their backs as long as Ahmed kept sending those generous EFTs to their corporate bank account.

Now we get to the good part. I wasn�t really being paid what I was worth at this job. Sure, having a server room to yourself is nice and all, and partying with a cool foreigner once a month is badass, but the lack of decent pay does kinda outweigh both of those. And on top of that, a lot of people I had to deal with were either luddites that just didn�t get this new-fangled �technology� thing, or just plain assholes. I decided to just quit and find something better. Some would say a smart man would�ve quit after he had another job lined up...some would say I�m not a very smart man.

However, it turns out Ahmed found out I quit, and was very upset over this. He called me when he found out and wanted to know why. I told him my grievances and he agreed it was a lovely deal. He asked me if he should cancel his contract with the company. I laughed and said no, because then he wouldn�t be coming in town that much anymore and I wouldn�t get to see him when he did. I told him I�d still love to party with him when he was visiting, but unfortunately I wouldn�t have a corporate amex to foot our usually 5 figure bill. He said that wouldn�t be a problem, we�d party just the same and he�d send the bill directly to them. Wow. Party buddies four lyfe yo!

Then we got to talking about the whole Bioshock thing again. He asked me if I had secured another job yet. I told him no. He said, �Great! I want you to plan the underwater city. Every detail. I am looking for something new to invest in, and every time we meet, I can�t stop thinking that this could be the next big thing. Dubai has their underwater hotel, I want an underwater CTIY!� I asked him if he was joking, and he reassured me I wasn�t. I said I would get right on it.

Now goons, how in the hell do you even begin planning something like this? Are their companies that build poo poo underwater? I have no idea. How...I...duno. I could possibly have the chance at being a real Andrew Ryan here, but I have no loving clue how to plan this. Hell, I don�t even know the location I would pick out! Is there a �Dummies guide to building cities underwater� somewhere? Ahmed comes back into town on Feb 25th, which means I really have until the 29th (oh poo poo, just realized it was a leap year) to come up with something. If all else fails, I guess I could go to work for his international company, but building an underwater city seems way cooler.

Anyone have any ideas? I�m totally open to suggestions!

# ¿ May 11, 2014 05:58

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Seventh Arrow posted:

As long as we're rolling out the classics here, I figured I'd post the "mall ninja" story. I don't even think it originated on SA...

A goon was behind it (Aquarium Gravel), but you're right, this unfolded on another forum entirely.

# ¿ May 12, 2014 13:34

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

FrozenVent posted:

Didn't someone engage with him and start telling highly tactical stories of beating back an Asian gang trying to steal an arcade machine?

Yup, that was SpecOps. No idea if he was another goon in on it.

SpecOps Schools Us About Arcade Security posted:

It was about 8:45PM, and the mall was closing and nearly empty. Me and my �shadow� were sweeping quadrant 069E, the mall arcade, a known hotspot for Asian Gangs and assorted thugs. The arcade was located at the far east end of the mall, next to the movie theater and the orange julius.I smelled trouble, and couldn�t spot any movement from the arcade, which was unusual due to the presence of a new Mortal Compact arcade game. Those Asians Gangs love Mortal Combat.

I went to �condition red,� and discretely unholstered my Glock17 loaded with Black Talons. I motioned to my partner to sweep right to flank the arcade, but he was already in motion sensing the trouble in my facial expression. My partner drew his S&W 1006 and went prone behind a potted palm tree.I crept towards the arcade, when the power went out. It was an ambush! I could still see relatively well due to the full moon, shining through the building�s skylights, and years in a dark secret Russian prison center had honed my natural night vision to that of a tomcat. A perp popped up from behind the Orange Julius counter with a full auto Kalashnikov with a 75rd drum, and opened up in the direction of my partner, meanwhile two perps popped up from behind the skeeball machine with sawed off 12 gauges. Another two perps appeared on the upper level and brought down hell-fire on us from above. One had a Winchester Model 70 in .30-06 with a 10x scope and the other was laying down suppressive fire with a Mac10 variant. The perps were all sporting cheap russian NVGs.

I dove under a metal bench, and lined my sights on the AK bandit. A double-tap to the chest, and a quick follow-up to the head brought him down like a sack of potatos. My partner had been hit in the leg by some buckshot but he kept fighting like a champ, he took out one of the shotgunners with a 10mm hollowpoint to the temple, while I started unloading into the glass partition that surrounded the upper level. When the sniper ran for cover I drew a bead on him, adjusted for distance, and dropped two into his abdomen. The Mac-man ran for it, at the sight of the bloody guts pouring out his partner�s stomach.I did a quick tactical reload, grabbed the 870P from the harness on my back, and did some rolls over to the movie theater and back flipped over the concession counter while unloading the 5 rounds of 000 into the skeeball machine. My partner was pinned down, I tossed the empty 870, and realized I couldn�t hit the remaining perp due to my the poor angle of attack. I had to act fast or my partner was done for. I leap over the counter again, and low crawled towards the arcade unseen. I crept behind the Mrs. PacMan game, and when I heard the perp reload, jumped up with my trusty K-Bar, and threw it into the perp�s arm, pinning him against the wall behind him.When the smoke cleared, we had three dead perps, and two very scared prisoners. My partner was slighting wounded but he would live to fight another day.

The company goons came in fast by chopper, to cover up the situation. The remaining perps were flown to a company detention center, and we never found out what happened to them, or why they made such a vicious attack. My belief is that they were planning to hijack the coveted Mortal Combat game unit. The remaining customers and employees were paid off to cover their emotional distress and to keep their mouths shut. Later an unknown shadowy figure in an expensive black suit (obviously a high ranking company guy) came to me as I was reloading my Rem870 (in case of a second wave of attackers) and offered me the job opportunity of a lifetime�

# ¿ May 12, 2014 16:12

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

There's non-tomato ketchup?

# ¿ May 14, 2014 21:23

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Okay, that decides it: I'm heading to 99 Ranch Market and searching for banana catsup (or ketchup, whatever).

# ¿ May 15, 2014 20:18

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Not Always Right/Working isn't the only place to find STDH workplace stories! Jezebel "true" restaurant horror stories can pay off as well:

And then we smoked cigars with Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum posted:

I was working at a beach bar in NYC in the summer of 2006. The job was hell � we would work 12-14 hour shifts because the place would open at 11am or noon and turn into a semi rave at the end of the night. We wouldn't get paid for weeks at a time, and the pay itself was terrible.

The Fourth of July was the day that we were supposed to make mad cash because the beach bar was always packed, the fireworks display was on the East River, and the view from our place really was amazing. HOWEVER, we get to work that morning and the owner had hired more people off of craigslist and told the regular waitstaff that we would be working the overflow parking lot where there were less options to make tips (mostly just beer tents and not a lot of food).

After a few hours of this, I decided to rally the troops, Norma Rae-style. I got up on a picnic table, put my fist in the air, yelled 'This is Our Independence Day!' and we all walked out. The look on my boss's face was priceless, but what was even better was going back at the end of the night and sitting with them until we all got checks written out to us for all our overdue back pay.

This is sadly what the writer imagines as badass posted:

One Friday night during my years waiting tables, I picked up a shift for a co-worker. I usually didn't work Fridays because they were amateur nights � lots and lots of White Zinfandel and people who only go out once or twice a year. I was about 30 minutes into my shift when I was triple sat with two 4-tops and a 6-top. I got the drink orders from one of the 4s and the 6 and told the other 4 that I would be right back to get theirs. As I was coming back from the bar with a tray full of drinks, this lady sitting in another section grabbed me by my sleeve and pulled me back to her table, almost spilling all the drinks in the process. I don't know about the rest of you, but my pet peeve is "YOU DON'T TOUCH ME," so I'm already starting to see red. I ask the lady "Yes ma'am, what can I do for you?" and she says, in a very loud voice, "MY CHICKEN IS BAD!"

I calmly looked at her, looked down at her chicken, looked back at her, set the tray of drinks on a table next to them, reached onto her plate, picked up the chicken, spanked it twice, and yelled "BAD CHICKEN!" Then I put the chicken back on her plate, walked through the wait station, threw my ticket book against the register and walked out the back door, never to wait tables again.

Like a boss (that was made up for this story) posted:

One night when I was working Grand Prix weekend (during which I opened the restaurant at 7 AM, and wouldn't leave until 4 AM the next day, coming back the next morning to do it all again � $2000 in three days made it worthwhile to me), a newer girl I had been chatting with earlier in the night came up, shaken about something that had just happened. Apparently, she had been counting out her cash for the night in the back of the kitchen, and someone she thought was a random guy, as she had never seen him before, came up and swiped several bills from her. Shocked, she chased after him, yelling "Sir! Sir!" until he turned around and screamed "I'm your loving boss." Stunned, she went back to the kitchen to finish closing her cash. Afterwards, she went to talk to one of the managers, to tell him what happened, and also to make sure she wouldn't get in trouble (the place was notoriously fickle with its staff). As she was telling the manager her story, the owner came up to her from behind, put her in an headlock/chokehold with his left arm, and wrapped his right arm around her and stuck his thumb in her mouth. He leaned in and said "That's right, I'm your loving boss." She was understandably incredibly upset. I will forever think of her fondly, because she took the entirety of her cash (as in, the whole amount, from all her sales) that night and left, never to be heard from again. My hero!

# ¿ May 19, 2014 22:50

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

walrusman posted:

Does anyone have that story about the European kid escaping from the sexual advances of his girlfriend's preteen sister thanks to the magic of Bitcoin? That one was a hoot.

Ask for disturbing international Bitcoin fanfic and ye shall receive. Speaking of strangely sexual level of detail, this one is definitely :nws:

Of course Reddit bitcoiners bought it hook, line, and sinker posted:

This story happened to me during the summer of 2012. I was a 23 year old French developer who just got out of engineering school. I had found a job at a large German automotive company, and was expected to start working in September in Munich.

For the last few months, I had been talking on IRC with a Brazilian girl, my age, named Maria-Teresa. She was studying arts at the UFPA university in Bel�m, and planned to go to Europe the year after to visit historical sites in Italy, Greece and France. We were flirting a little during those chat sessions, and she invited me to come and visit her during her two weeks vacation in July. Her family lived in Pracu�ba, a small town in the Northernmost province of Brazil.

I happened to have bought 2000� worth of bitcoins in February after I earned my first salary as an intern, which amounted to a bit more than 600 BTC at this time. I didn't have enough money in my bank account alone to pay for the plane tickets, so I sold back 250 BTC for 1500� to cover the rest.

The flights went well, even though it was a bit long to go from Paris to S�o Paulo, from S�o Paulo to Bel�m, from Bel�m to Macap�, and from Macap� to Porto Grande. From there I took a bus to Pracu�ba, and I arrived there around 9PM, 38 hours after having left Paris. Despite it being the winter there, it was much hoter than under Paris summer.

Pracu�ba could not be more different from what I had expected. In France, many small towns with less than 1000 inhabitants have a very lively and vivid village life. With its 2500 registered inhabitants, Pracu�ba was pretty much a ghost town, with nobody to be seen around. Maybe I should have checked Wikipedia more carefully, I would have noticed that the population density was around one person per square mile. When you realize that the average household size is 6 people, you can imagine that houses can be far away from each other.

Fortunately, a cellular network was available, and I could reach Maria-Teresa. She explained to me that she was not sure I was really coming, and that his brother would come and give me a ride to their place.

Half an hour later, an antic pickup truck arrived with a thirty something man behind the wheel. He stopped the car abruptly just in front of me, and when I went to open the passenger door, he just showed me the rear cargo area. I was quite surprised, but climbed into it and we left on the dirty roads. 10 miles later, I was already covered in dust when we stopped before a medium size wooden house. I jumped off the car and followed the driver inside.

In the main room, dimly lit, four people were seated. Maria-Teresa was one of them and she greeted me with a big hug, and introduced me to her parents, to her 15 year old sister Manuela, and to her brother, my driver, Jo�o Paulo. The introduction lasted only a short instant because none of them spoke French or English, and I did not know a word of Portuguese.

Right after, while I was hoping to get offered something to eat, the father uttered some order and Maria-Teresa explained to me that they were all going to bed. The parents went into their room, while I wondered if the four of us had to fit in the bunk bed that I could see in a corner of the room.

Maria-Teresa told me that when she comes back during her vacation, she uses to sleep with Manuela in the lower bed while Jo�o Paulo sleeps in the upper one. However, since I was here, we would share the lower bed while Manuela would join her brother.

I asked about the bathroom. Maria-Teresa told me that it was located in their parents room and that I would have to go outside or wait until the morning. I went out and peed on a tree 100 feet away. When I came back, the light had been switched off, but with the pale moon light coming through the window I was able to distinguish a nude muscular male body as Jo�o Paulo was washing himself from the kitchen sink while the sisters talked together.

Maria-Teresa told me I could freshen up if I wished. I waited until the brother, apparently still nude, climbed into his bed, and I went to the sink. From there, the rest of the room looked pitch black, and I decided not to care and undressed completely. I used a towel from my luggage to clean myself up, trying to water half of it while keeping the other half dry.

As I put on some boxer shorts, the younger sister came to the sink and started undressing as if I was not there. The partial obscurity did not hide the fact that she was wearing nothing but her dress, and she was done washing before I went to my luggage to store my dirty laundry. She then climbed into the upper bed, and I could hear her talk briefly to her brother.

I put myself under the sheets while Maria-Teresa went to the sink. As everyone, she proceeded to get naked, although she was wearing underwear, and I watched her while getting anxious about what would happen next. I was relieved when I saw her pick up a shirt long enough to cover her intimate parts. Life in the city may have made her more prude than the rest of her family.

She joined me into the bed, and for the first time since I arrived we could talk, while trying not to disturb her siblings. She asked me how the trip went, she told me she was happy I could come, and that she should have warned me that there weren't really any nightlife in her parents place. She promised to show me around the next morning and wished me good night.

Thanks to the jet lag, I slept very well. I woke up by the sound of the bed ladder; the brother was getting up, naked, with a morning erection he did not try to hide. He started making coffee, when Maria-Teresa opened her eyes. She said something to him, to which he responded. I asked her what she just said, and she had ensured that there would be enough coffee for me too.

Manuela then went down her bed. This time, I had a good look at her while she climbed done. She had small breasts, the hair covering her sex was very sparse and dark. She took her dress and went into her parents room. When she came back a minute later, she had put the dress on, and Jo�o Paulo, still half erect, dressed as well and poured the coffee into four cups.

Maria-Teresa got up. Still lying in the bed, I could not help looking under her shirt as she did so. This was the first time I had a glimpse at a real shaved sex. I only had had one sexual encounter at this time, and I can still remember the pubic hair getting in my way. This reinforced my morning wood, and I was wondering how I would get up when she told me to get up and eat my breakfast. I asked when her parents would wake up, and she told me that they already left when the sun rose to go sell their fruits to the market. Relieved, I reached to my luggage, got a pant and a shirt, and went to the bathroom with my clothes in front of me trying to cover my erection.

At this stage, I was very lost. I had come from France to the middle of nowhere to meet a girl I didn't know, and had landed into a family whose customs were unknown to me. Was it appropriate to look at each other while naked? Was it appropriate to be naked? Would it be possible to get involved in a romantic relationship with Maria-Teresa? I decided that I could not do anything about it but talk with Marie-Teresa when we get a chance, and went back to the main room. The bananas and another fruit I could not name were delicious.

Jo�o Paulo brought us to the city. The two sisters and I climbed into the cargo area, and Maria-Teresa told me there would be many people there because of the market. When we arrived, eight merchants, including her two parents, were selling fruits and vegetables to a dozen of customers. Also, the community center was open, and after a 20 minute wait I was able to access the only computer connected to the Internet. It was using an antique version of Internet Explorer, but it was enough to send a short mail to family to assure them that everything was ok, even though I had to use the HTML only version of gmail.

Maria-Teresa took me for a walk around the village. We seemed to be getting along, and she took my hand. We spent most of the day talking about her studies, my job, her being anxious to get to Europe. We had lunch in a tiny house where a woman talking loudly was cooking, and Maria-Teresa payed for both of us. We walked for the rest of the afternoon, resting from time to time under the shadow of a tree, getting a little bit closer from each other, then we walked back to the city.

On the path, Jo�o Paulo was waiting for us. He started to yell at Maria-Teresa, and they fought for more than 10 minutes, with me trying to ask Maria-Teresa what was happening. We went back to the car where Manuela was waiting, and during the ride back she explained that her brother had always acted jealous towards her and that he made a scene because we spent too much time alone together.

The night meal was pleasant, with her mother trying to communicate with me. Maria-Teresa spent the diner translating as much as possible while eating, and her father showed me on a map the countries where he would have wanted to go: Portugal, Angola, Cap-Vert. The mother then did the dishes while the father smoked a hand-made cigar, and it was time to go to sleep again.

However, Maria-Teresa told me that there would be a small change of accommodations. Her brother did not want her to sleep in the same bed as me any longer, so I was to sleep near her sister instead if it was ok with me. I was disappointed because I had hoped we could chat some more, but I convinced myself that this was not a big deal and that tomorrow was another day.

Jo�o Paulo turned off the light, the room went dim as the night before, and he undressed, washed, and got to bed. It was then my turn, and after freshening up, I put clean boxer shorts and went to bed. Maria-Teresa put a shirt, and waited for her sister to finish washing. When Manuela came to the bed, still naked, Maria-Teresa talked to her and they got into an argument. I seemed to understand that Maria-Teresa told her to wear something while Manuela pretexted that she had no shirt around, showing the parents room where the closet was with her hand. Maria-Teresa seemed to have the last word, in that she climbed into the upper bed, giving me once again a clear view of her intimacy, and she threw the shirt she was wearing to her sister.

Manuela took the shirt, put in on, and went into the bed on my side. After less than a minute, I felt her move as she was getting rid of the shirt, which she wasn't used to wear while sleeping apparently.

I spent an horrible night. While I was not interested in Manuela at all, I could not help having a giant erection imagining her nude behind my back. Every time I moved a little, the shorts over my dick were making me even more excited. I could feel the bed shake lightly, and I could not tell whether one of the siblings was masturbating, maybe ten centimeters away from me, or if I was myself slowly making the bed move by rubbing my shorts against the bed.

At this point, my only priority was not to come, as I would have been very embarrassed if that happened. I did the only thing I could think of, I put my shorts off, throw them onto the ground over Manuela, removed the sheet off myself and Manuela, and lied onto my back so that nothing touches my erect dick anymore. Manuela, who was either not sleeping or got woken up, turned around and looked at me, then at my dick. She did not look surprised nor shocked, and she simply closed her eyes, lying naked on her back.

I could finally get to sleep, but woke up in the middle of the night and tried to assess the current situation. While sleeping, Manuela had turned towards me and on her tummy, her head looking away from me. Her right hand lied on my leg, my flaccid sex touching her arm. My own hand was trapped under her body, and I could feel her public hair on the back of my hand. I got an instant erection, which had the immediate and beneficial side effect of separating my sex from her arm, and started to slowly withdraw my hand from under her. As I did so, I felt the back of my middle finger going on top of her labia, and probably her clitoris. Finally, I managed to pull my hand completely, and confirmed what I felt by smelling my finger.

This was too much for me. Since everyone was sleeping, I started to masturbate very slowly to prevent the bed from moving. It looks like I was not discreet enough as Manuela turned her body towards me as I was nearing the end. I had planned to contain my ejaculation with my other hand, but seeing her looking at me was such as surprise that I ended up ejaculating all over my chest and also over hers. It was so powerful a feeling that I could not let it go and gave it a few more strikes while looking at her stupidly.

Without a word, or even a strange look, she got up and turned the sink faucet on to water a towel. She cleaned up herself while walking back to the bed, then handed me the towel. I cleaned myself while she looked at me doing it, then she brought the towel back. Maria-Teresa asked her something and she answered, then went back to bed. Without a smile, without an angry look, she closed her eyes while turned towards me and my still erect member.

I woke up the next morning when Manuela got out of bed. Her parents, fully dressed, were silently seated at the table and looking into our direction. As the day before, she took her dress from the floor and walked to the parents bedroom, while I unsuccessfully looked for the sheet to cover myself. As Maria-Teresa climbed off the ladder, I forced myself not to look too long to their shaved pussy, even though it looked like the parents would not care. As she was picking up the shirt to cover herself, she noticed that I was naked myself and let the shirt go. She came to me and kissed me hello, and said that she feared that I was shocked by their nudity and that she is happy that I'm not, because it is much too hot to sleep with clothes.

I did not know what to answer, especially when I didn't know what her sister would tell or not. Apparently, she did not tell much before we went out for a ride to the river with the parents and both sisters, and we spent an excellent day. Marie-Teresa, Manuela, and I, spent most of the day bathing nude in the river, while the parents seated around. Some physical contacts gave me light erections, but nobody seemed to care.

I was starting to feel that this was a very good trip, until we got home. Jo�o Paulo was waiting for us, visibly angry, with a towel in hand. I recognized it immediately. It was the towel Manuela and I used to clean ourselves during the night. He smelled the towel, shouted something at Manuela who shouted something back and started to sob. He threw the towel to Maria-Teresa, who also smelled it, and then she turned to me. I knew it could not be good.

She asked me how her sister towel could smell like sperm. She told me that her sister was a virgin, and that I had dishonored her family, and that now I have to marry Manuela. I tried to explain that I did not sleep with her sister, that I had never even touched her, but apparently she did not believe me, nor were her parents for whom she translated what I said. I explained that I had an accident and that I used the towel to clear it up, but she started yelling at me saying that she did not believe me.

Then the unexpected happened. The mother shouted an order to Manuela, who got undressed, still sobbing, and climbed onto the kitchen table, legs spread out. The mother then went to check that her daughter was still a virgin. The father, still saying nothing, also checked when the mother called him, then the brother, then Maria-Teresa.

Maria-Teresa seemed to calm down a little, then explained to me that I could not be trusted. I had to go, now. The father, apparently understanding the conversation, came to me and pushed me to the door. I shouted that I needed my suitcase, with my papers, my plane tickets, and my clothes, but Maria-Teresa yelled at me and told me that I must go. Now.

This is how I ended up walking in the direction of the city. I reached it in the middle of the night, and slept in front of the community center, hoping that nothing would happen to me until the sun rose. The operator found me seated at the door when he arrived. He was a rather nice guy who spoke a few English words. I asked him where I could do a Western Union transfer, he had never heard of it. I looked it up on the Internet, and it appears that there is no way to do a money transfer in this deserted area.

I sent a mail to my parents asking them for advice, but it was the middle of the night in France, so I was stuck here, and I wanted to move before the family comes to town and tells everybody what happened, as I didn't want an angry mob against me. So it struck me: French Guiana, a province of France, was only 200 miles away. If I could go there, I could probably get money transferred to me much more easily, and I could probably arrange a flight back to Paris.

I was able to install an IRC client on the community center computer, and talk with some strangers located in Cayenne, the prefecture of French Guiana. They all told me that I was out of luck for two reasons: I had no chance to be able to travel with no money, and I had no chance to be able to cross the border without papers, since they fight very hard against illegal immigration. One guy contacted me privately, and told me that he knew someone who could help me reach French Guiana, but that this necessitated money. I proposed to initiate a international money wire and to have him trust me that it will arrive, but he answered that not only he didn't know me and could not trust me, but also that he didn't want to let a financial trail.

Then it struck me: bitcoins. I told him to wait, while I checked how much the 350 BTC I still had were worth. I could have cried when I looked at the exchange rate and saw that it was 7.28�/BTC, and that I had the equivalent of 2500� (approximately $3300) to get out of this mess. I went back to the guy and asked him if he could accept 2500� worth of bitcoins. He didn't know about it, and I tried to explain, but he was not interested. I asked him to wait again as I checked on another IRC channel if I could find someone interested in the transaction. One person, with a good online reputation, was willing to do it if I sent the bitcoins first, and could deliver 2000� in cash to anyone in Cayenne. After negotiating a bit, I could setup the deal, send the bitcoins, and have the cash brought to the guy.

This was a real risk, as this could be a scam, and a bitcoin transaction cannot be reversed. Fortunately, both guys were honest, at least as far as our deal is concerned. Eight hours later, that I spent in the community center, a SUV came to pick me up. It happened that the guy was a French cop, apparently used to doing dirty jobs, and he was very nice. When we reached the border, he had me hide under a blanket, while he gave some cash to both the Brazilian and the French customs and police officers. We reached Cayenne in the middle of the night, and he dropped me in front of the main Cayenne police station. He explained to me that I had nothing to fear because even though I entered the country illegally, I had every right to be here as I was French.

Indeed, I told the police that I was visiting Brazil when I got mugged at gunpoint near the French Guiana border, and that someone I don't know anything about helped me cross the border. They checked my identity, made some temporary identity and travel documents so that I could board a plane to France, and directed me to a bank where I could get some emergency money transferred from my parents French bank account, at the cost of extravagant fees.

End of story, I was able to sleep in an hotel and take a plane two days later. When I came back to Paris, I told my parents that I had met a crazy family and that I got mugged and had no way to join them or the host family. I haven't told them about the bitcoins, I pretended later to have lost them all in a scam, but really: the bitcoins saved my life.

I love bitcoins.

**tl;dr found myself lost abroad in the middle of nowhere with nothing but an internet connection after a rather strange family story, and bitcoins probably saved my life**

ibntumart has a new favorite as of 01:35 on May 22, 2014

# ¿ May 22, 2014 01:30

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

poo poo that did happen: the writer probably does believe that bashing the poo poo out of someone at a bar is totally legal if you have "mutual consent."

# ¿ May 22, 2014 21:03

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

silencekit posted:

oooh oooh let's turn the thread into a "stand your ground" discussion!

By all that is holy, let's please not! Instead, have some more content.

Worst Sue Reed fanfic ever posted:

Background:
Be Pseudonym, PS for short. 27 years of living with moderate NParents.
Never be Momzilla, 58 years of raising 5 kids while being encouraged into being an NMom by my NDad.
Be MrFantastic, the man who loves me through thick and thin, and helps me build healthy boundaries between myself and NFamily members.

A little background on Momzilla's own wedding. Her parents loved her very much and despite my grandpa working his entire life as a mechanic, and my grandmother surviving polio during the great depression and a brain tumor later in life, my grandparents gave every penny they had for my mom's wedding. My grandmother made the most beautiful lace dress and veil for my mother, exactly to the specs and style that my mother wanted. (I didn't wear it b/c genetics!, jk seriously, my mom weighed 110lbs at 5'6'' before she had 5 kids and started drinking wine every day)

In my mom's eyes, she got her perfect wedding, at least, that's what she always told me!

MrFantastic, after waiting for my younger brother to get married (doesn't want to steal lil bro's thunder/spotlight) proposes!

Momzilla is ecstatic! She loves MrFantastic so much! Oh wait, she's happy for me because he's white and blue eyes run in his family. WAT.JPG _{editor's note: there's no associated picture, the author really does just write this stupidly}

Momzilla: Oh PS, I'm so glad you finally found someone that fits you. Not like ex-boyfriend (half hispanic, with hazel eyes), he just wasn't right for you seeing as how he couldn't contribute to your heritage.

PS: Heritage? What heritage?

Momzilla: You know! White skin and blue eyes are becoming more rare with the "mixing of the races." You have a responsibility to preserve your race. Pretty soon everyone will just look...said with disgust mulatto.

I'd had a couple drinks by this point and tend to blurt whatever I'm thinking.

PS: OK HITLER, guess I'll have to go get you a KKK membership form tomorrow, since it sounds like you'd do great with them. Tell me more of this "responsibility?"

I don't actually want to hear what she says, so I keep interrupting her by doing the Nazi salute each time she tries to tell me her viewpoint. She ends up pissed at me but forgets about it by the next day, because ALCOHOL, and she eventually started laughing because laughter is contagious and I couldn't stop.

Neckbeard Man vs. the C_ntsquad! posted:

Back in my high school days, I was the typical budding introverted male computer geek. I was quiet, kept to myself, pretty much the stereotypical chess nerd who loved to read books and play video games. I had my share of bully stories and random kids that picked on me but one particular uppity bitch had it in for me. Let�s call her Valerie Snootybitch for the sake of this story. I was in her scopes nearly every day for the 4 years I attended high school. Val and her c_ntsquad group of friends would torment me ruthlessly to the point I attempted suicide at a particular low point in my life. The constant name calling, the snide remarks, questioning of my sexuality, the bullying never stopped even with administration intervention. High school wasn�t particularly bad for me, but it was Val who made my life a literal living Hell. I was powerless because she was the queen bitch and I had at least one class with her every semester.

High school ends and I get my college degree. My career takes off and I advance several times. Sadly, my company hits hard times and I'm laid off along with most of my staff. Months turn into nearly a year as I�m waiting for my next job but my emergency nest egg is getting low. In order to support myself, I take up an old part-time tech job working for my former employer. He was glad to have me back and I got to pick up some extra cash doing in-home tech work on the side while I continued the job search.

My boss gets a call from a long time client and sends me out to handle it. It�s pretty cut-n-dry on paper but after checking the name, it dawns on me that this client is the father of Valarie Snootybitch. I instantly have horrible flashbacks of all the torture I went through in HS. Realizing I�m not the same wimpy geek in HS, I swallow my hateful pride to knock on the door. Father Snootybitch greets me warmly and we briefly converse with idle chit-chat. I don't let him on that I knew his c_nt of a daughter nor that she was the bane of my existence in my HS days. I do find out that his daughter is temporarily staying back at Papa�s home as she is out traveling the country for work. He had divorced from Mama Snootybitch who took half his savings account over an unnamed incident that led me to believe she cheated on him. Clue #1: Figured out where Val got her c_ntiness from.

We get down to business and he explains his computer problem(s). The main issue being that the Dinosaur of a PC is practically a relic of state-of-the-art fossil fuel by modern day comparisons. I quickly demise no amount of software repair and malware removal is going to fix the speed problem he's facing. It takes a whopping 20 minutes to boot into the log in screen and I ball my fist into a tight ball when I see "Val Snootybitch"'s name as the secondary accounts on the Windows Login screen. Shrugging it off, I recommend to Papa that getting a new computer rather than spending the hours it will take trying to get it back up to merely poor standards. He agrees and wants ME to go with him the store and pick one up� that day! I�m conflicted as this is the father of Rosemary�s Baby but it�s obviously not entirely his fault his daughter is the bitch from hell... so I say "what the hell" and agree. I call my boss and he's ok with me doing some consulting work over the PC repair he originally sent me on. I'm off the clock on by my bosses standards and it�s off to XYZ Computer store.

We are shooting the breeze at what he does for a living but mostly it�s about how he is proud that his daughter is an entrepreneur for some startup company on the web and how she is constantly traveling the state and country. I'm controlling my gag reflex from the puffy clouds and sparkly rainbows his daughter excretes. How can he talk about the very same person that would knock my lunch into the ground and then �accidently� step on it while looking at me in the eye and mock �I�m sooooo sorry!� We get to the store and I find out through conversing with him and the sales associate that his computer we are replacing is actually Val's old college computer that he recently commandeered while she was away. Food for thought...

Enough technical jargon to sink a battleship and 3 hours later: Father Snootybitch is the proud owner of a new top-of-the-line computer and wireless network system. I install the new PC, get it up and running along with the new printer, Wifi, multiple accounts setup along with windows remote access in case he needs my boss to log in for basic help (standard procedure). I move onto installing the old Harddrive for the data transfer and Father Snootybitch has long since vacated the room to go watch TV elsewhere. My loath and disgust resurfaces as my eyes wandered across the documents of Valerie's personal files. The data transfer starts reading off odd file name that catch my eye. It doesn�t occur to me, given the source, just what I�m seeing skim across the screen so I manually follow the path to said directory of her old pathetically encrypted Harddrive. The discovery of several thousand megabytes of personal porn pictures and hardcore webcam videos halts me in my tracks.

This wasn't the vastly gifted entrepreneur daughter Papa Snootybitch had led on about. This was an ageing webcam pornstar who was out touring the country doing porn or hooking up with her latest fling. My curiosity turned into disgust and contempt as I skimmed through several dozen more photos of freakish and occasional kinky stuff where she is degrading men or causing pain. I have no problem in general with what someone does for a living. My thoughts were at that instant that this bitch is using men and continuing to cause more pain even after HS. I had more reason to despise and hate her over anyone else... and I had her in the palm of my hands.

Wheels started turning, daddy was obviously none the wiser to what his daughter did for a living and my conscience started a personal war with my ego. At one end was my willingness to extract revenge and the other was my morale�s saying to forgive and let it go. I settled on a happy medium that both sides gleefully agreed with. My fear of being sued or that I could get my boss into some serious trouble prevented me from going too far so an evil little revenge scheme would have to suffice.
I uploaded all the files in question to my remote file server and got to work figuring out the best way to humiliate a dominatrix c_nt. Papa Snottybitch was enthusiastically watching a game that would occupy him for a few hours so I took the time to organized all her photos and videos onto her newly created desktop. Each folder got a unique fetish name as I filled each one with her personal pictures of shame and degradation. I started to get more and more creative as I began to have fun with it. "Valerie of XXHS class of XXXX takes on 2 guys at her Daddies home". Or "Watch Valerie Snootybitch get DPed on her parents bed". I was cackling with glee as I rigged the coup de gras. None of the files could be deleted/changed/removed without Administration approval. Guess who had that! MWAHAHAHAHAAH!

Two weeks later I get THE phonecall I was waiting for from my boss. Father Snootybitch request that I take a look at his daughter�s login account as there was something wrong with it. The look on her face when I showed up at her father's doorstep was priceless. Bitchy anger quickly sinks into horror and regret as it dawns on her just who was behind all this.

The next half hour was mostly sobs and her saying "sorry" a thousand times over. I'm a softy at heart but like Captain Malcolm Reynolds of Firefly says, "I'm a good guy... [stabs the guy in the gut] well I'll settle for just all right." my old HS pals mysteriously got access to a hidden directory one day of thousands of porn pictures of Valerie Snootybitch.

# ¿ May 22, 2014 22:28

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Minarchist posted:

Why is it so hard for people to use whole words and natural sounding grammar instead of this weird language structure and acronyms for everything? Is "I'm X, my Mom's a narcissist, my fiance is Y" so hard to write out?

That story originally came from a Reddit forum. There were other stories with the same stupid format, but not all of them, so I don't know if the author is a 4chan greentext refugee, the forum has a (poorly enforced) style guide, or the author just convinced herself that was a good writing style.

# ¿ May 22, 2014 23:22

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Awkward Davies posted:

This guy is loving awful terrible person and deserved the punishment he got in high school. What a massive cock for even thinking any of that is even close to a reasonable revenge story. That's hosed up.

I mean, I know it did't happen, but jesus.

Yeah, STDH stories can be a window into some pretty hosed up heads. I take comfort (1) knowing they're fake stories and (2) the sort of person to write one and think it's a compelling, badass, and realistic tale are way too ineffectual to protest getting a cheeseburger instead of Quarter Pounder at a McDonald's, let alone attempt anything in their story.

# ¿ May 23, 2014 01:17

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Some of the stuff David Thorne is obviously made up, but some of it is real. For instance, I'm pretty sure that the email exchange with the Australian authorities threatening to shut down his website actually took place (for those who don't visit his website, he posted a joke ad for a "business investment opportunity"---giving him $5150 to buy drugs and a cool briefcase to sell them out of). I believe some of the snarky email exchanges take place, but that obviously the intraoffice shenanigans are either fake or extremely exaggerated.

But I could be completely wrong about any of them being real, I suppose.

While we're on that topic, here's an unrelated email exchange that may well be STDH (though I want to believe it did happen):

"dude has a whole website of these posted:

Original ad:
**** Disguisable weapons wanted ****
Wanted: hidden blades, belt buckle knives, cane swords, etc.....
Offering: cash, items for barter
From Me to **********@***********.org:

Hey,

I saw your ad looking for concealable/disguised weapons. I have several fine-crafted items you may be interested in. Respond if you are interested and I will send you pictures and prices.

Thanks,

Mike

From Jeff ****** to Me:

I am. lets see what you got.

From Me to Jeff ******:

Jeff,

Here you go:

Looks like a normal spoon, right?

Wrong. It is actually a deadly 2.5" half-smooth, half-serrated knife with tactical grip. One minute you are enjoying a bowl of cereal, and the next you are fighting off attackers with this deadly and disguised weapon.

I am asking $50 for the blade. Let me know if you want to stop by and take a look at it.

Mike

From Jeff ****** to Me:

that is stupid as hell and looks like crap. unless you have anything better to offer, dont waste my time.

From Me to Jeff ******:

Jeff,

I am sorry you feel that way about the spoon blade. I do have some other weapons that I think you will feel differently about.

Mike

From Jeff ****** to Me:

fine. but if it is another knife duct taped to a spoon then you can gently caress off.

From Me to Jeff ******:

Jeff,

Thank you for re-considering. Here are three quality disguised weapons that I think you will love:

At first glance, this looks like a normal party cup. However, if you look close enough, you will see that it is really a fully automatic Glock 18C. You will be able to pour your enemies a nice warm cup of lead with this fine purchase. Asking $900 for the gun/cup combo.

Still thirsty for justice? Try this badass M16A2 disguised as a 24-pack of soda. The box has two finely crafted holes on each side to allow for any kind of optics (not included) that you wish to attach. This weapon is only for sale if you have a Class III permit.

This cleverly disguised weapon may look like a tissue box, but is actually a Benelli M3 12 gauge shotgun disguised as a tissue box. The ultra-soft quilted tissues serve as a comfortable grip on the pump-action shotgun. Also, if you find yourself sneezing during the heat of combat, you will have a handy tissue box ready for action. Asking $1500 for the weapon. Additional tissue boxes are an extra $5 per box.

Let me know if you want any of these items.

Thanks,

Mike

From Jeff ****** to Me:

youre a loving dumbass, shitbrained, asswipe, retarded dipshit. you prob walk around with that poo poo too you dumb mother fucker. I hope you get hit by a car. gently caress off, eat poo poo, and die.

# ¿ May 31, 2014 03:48

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

That was just on the last page.

Edit for content:

quote:

I am a former Subway Employee and I feel your pain dude.

No, you can't have your sandwich exactly like in the image shown. I want to look like Brad Pitt, but being a guy with a similar build and similar haircut still does not make me Brad Pitt.

My best story was when some bitch came in to order a BLT. Now, we are supposed to ask every single person if they want cheese, and she tried being a bitch saying, "BLT! Bacon, Lettuce, Tomato! What is so hard about that". So I gave her a "the gently caress" look and then put bacon on her sandwich.

When I got to the side with the vegetables, she started saying what she wanted on the sandwich, and I just put some lettuce and tomato on the sandwich, rolled it up in the paper and started ringing her up.

She started bitching at me about something that I wasn't paying attention to, but it was about the fact that she could not pick what I put on her sandwich and she was getting very loud and my only response was, "Bacon, lettuce, tomato. You are right, that is not hard. That will be 5.99"

Hey, she made it very, VERY clear that she just wanted bacon, lettuce and tomato, so that is what she got.

ibntumart has a new favorite as of 00:20 on Jun 1, 2014

# ¿ May 31, 2014 23:48

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Grrl Anachronism posted:

It's from the tumblr of a crazy teenage girl who believes she captures pictures of ghosts beside her on the webcam from the macs in her school computer lab and that her friends can summon demons or ghosts or some bullshit. Pretty much nothing she says is believable.

I can believe high school dudes being dicks, but nothing after that bit rang true to me. Though I will admit the phrasing "This is the epitome of a misogyny!" made me laugh: it reminded me of the awesome Not Always Right story generator.

# ¿ Jun 1, 2014 00:24

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

A gripping tale of one server's totally sick revenge:

quote:

I was serving a party of seven, the staff of a local car dealership who were celebrating the retirement of one of their peers. It was a dreadfully quiet night, so they were my only table aside from a young couple on a first date.

My employer's had an automatic gratuity on tables of 8 or more, so the auto-sales revellers fell just shy. No worries though, or so I thought, because my rapport with them was superb, they were having a blast, and they absolutely loved the food. They had also managed to consume 1 bottle of Dom Perignon and 5 bottles of Chateau Margaux, so their bill was decidedly substantial. Even if they had only left me 10%, it would have still been a very good night for me, and I really needed it because I hadn't worked for the previous month due to a leg injury.

When it came time to pay the bill the General Manager of the dealership asked to speak to both me and my Manager. I was actually thrilled for this because based on how the night was going I was certain that the car guy was about to sing my praises to my boss. Well, he did lavish praise on both me personally and the restaurant, but his words of adoration were just the blow-softening preamble to the horrendous gist of his verbalization: he was philosophically opposed to tipping. He told me that I did an amazing job, but that it was my responsibility to eke out a life on my hourly wage � and as anyone who's ever worked in the restaurant industry knows, that means roughly $2.13/hour. Then he invited me to attend his church. This poo poo-storm of indignity reached its maximum at the end of my shift, when I ended up losing money on the night because I still had to tip-out on the sales for the car party that had left me $0.00.

It was as I was walking out the door with less money than I had upon arrival that the need for vengeance became self-evident. So I waited for a few months, until a time when I was confident that no one at the dealership would automatically recognize me. I sauntered in, then went through all the motions that you'd expect from someone with genuine interest in purchasing an automobile. I laid it on pretty thick, wanting them to believe that an easy sale was imminent.

When it came time to sit down and have the cost and financing chat I asked to speak to both the General Manager and the associate who had helped me. I was effusive in expressing gratitude towards both my super-spectacular sales agent and the awesome car that I was unbearably eager to buy. The General Manager and sales agent alike wore the self-satisfied grins of men being given handjobs by the invisible hand of the free-market itself � right up until I told them the following:

"Sweet! Thanks so much, guys! One last thing though...I couldn't be happier with my experience here today, and this car is just what I need, but I'm philosophically opposed to paying commission. You earn a base salary, and I see no reason why you can't get by on that. You understand, right?"

I then invited them to a non-existent talk by an imaginary evolutionary biologist before walking the gently caress out.

Have you ever wondered what it sounds like when two capitalist-boners deflate in unison? Consider your curiosity satiated, because it sounds like angry Christians yelling while soft rock plays in the background.

# ¿ Jun 3, 2014 22:34

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

meat sweats posted:

The Jezebel columnist is threatening to ban people who notice that these stories are STDH.

While the person who pointed it out is called a oval office, points it out, and the columnist pretended not to see until the offending party piped up that she happily did and wasn't aware that wasn't cool on a feminist website, but whatevs, she has Aussie and Brit friends so of course it's okay when she says it. Of course the columnist ~~immediately banned her~~ cheerfully told her to just not do it again and then went back to lecturing the person who had astutely noted the obviously bullshit stories.

But enough stupid Gawker family website drama. On to another fake server tale from that same entry:

quote:

I used to work at an upscale restaurant with an inn and spa attached. One night I waited on a particularly terrible couple who are notorious in my region for their political power and wealth. They were unnecessarily rude to me (calling me "girl," not saying thank you), and they did not tip on their $200 dinner. After my shift the head waiter looked the other way as I booked myself a massage treatment and charged it to their room. It was a risky move, but we were pretty sure they wouldn't check the bill and would just automatically charge it to their credit card. I got my massage, and no one ever found out.

# ¿ Jun 4, 2014 03:26

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Poor heterosexual dudes sure do seem to have to worry about inadvertent gay attention in STDH Land:

Why go to Walmart when you have scissors and someone else's clothes? posted:

I've been unemployed for several months and it's been almost impossible to find work. Today, I had a job interview that I'd been trying to arrange for the past six weeks.

I woke up to prepare and everything started off great, I was in a good mood and felt ready to take on the world... and that's about when I realized that all of our pipes backed up and my clothes (for the interview) were in the washer... totally covered in disgusting black water, literally ruined.

I didn't have much time before the interview so I had to improvise. This involved finding clothing items belonging to my wife that seemed like something I might normally wear, but also something that was professional enough for my interview.

I'm 6'4" and she's about 5'6" so this was nearly impossible, but I made it work. I cut the legs off a bigger pair of jeans she had, making them into shorts. I found a baggy flannel shirt, cut off the sleeves, making a vest. That, combine with my work boots, I was ready to go (it's construction after all).

Here's the twist... I got the job! But I fear, not for the right reasons.

You see, my boss (the same guy that interviewed me) is apparently gay. He assumed when I showed up in tight jean shorts and a tight flannel homemade vest, that I too was gay. I had to smile and play along because I needed the job, but now I just feel awkward.

He was staring at me asking questions that were totally unrelated to the job. Instead, I was asked things like:
"How long have you been working out?" "How hard will you work for me?" (asked in such a creepy way) "How long can a guy like you go before he's too tired." (didn't even know how to answer that under the circumstances)

TLDR: I got a job after wearing my wife's clothes because my new boss is gay and thinks I'm cute (and gay).

I didn't know there was a Bachelor Party remake posted:

There's a dude in my senior class who is openly gay, and he's a cross-dresser. He has all kinds of posts all over FB of him dressed as a girl with make up and all that. He actually looks pretty good as a girl, which is I guess was the problem.
Fast forward to the party last night... Lots of folks there, lots of drinking, lots of sex. I get shitfaced. Bump and grind with some chicks. One chick comes out of nowhere, grabs my hand, takes me to the bathroom. Drops my pants and gives me literally the best BJ of my life. I finish in her mouth and she slowly licks my shaft clean. It was awesome.

I reach out to stroke her hair. Her hair moves in a strange way. Holy gently caress it's a wig. S/he looks up and asks, "Did you like it?" It was the cross-dressing dude. Holy gently caress. Oh my god.

I just nodded and walked out of there. Now I'm confused. It was a dude. But goddamn he makes a good-looking chick. What the gently caress.

Pro-tip: always check the girl for beans and franks before you let her blow you.

These are both from the same forum on Reddit. I'm surprised there wasn't someone trying to pass this article off as a true story, too.

# ¿ Jun 5, 2014 08:03

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

If you make the mistake of going to the spicy-vagina-tacos Tumblr quoted, you'll see her bio reads "my names tori & i like chicken." You'll also see a shitload of stupid GIFs, selfies, memes, and an annoying animated background.

# ¿ Jun 5, 2014 12:58

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Catpiss Neverclean posted:

STDH is actually making the news these days.

The article leaves out that "ManichestBreastiny" didn't just bellow, she used a demon's voice to summon forth the unholy brown curse upon her harasser. Because, you see, she practices pants-making GBS threads scary voices just for fun. This is the original post in case anyone's curious:

Tell Me More, Person Who Registered The Same Day Of Posting This Story posted:

I was walking out of the AMC Loews theater on Boston Common at about 9pm on a Friday night. I live in Cambridge, and the other movie-goers I was with were going in the other direction, leaving me on my own. The entrance to the Red Line T stop (subway) is across the street and down the block from the theater, so I was only outside for about two minutes before this happened, still well within view of dozens of people.

A man that looked to be at least fifteen years older than myself who was walking near me in the same direction took an extra step to catch up to me and put his arm around my shoulder and grabbed my breast, and said "Hey".
I'm small. I'm blonde. I wear t-shirts, jeans and old sneakers. I practice monstrous voices as a hobby. One of these things came out to my advantage.

I pushed him off me, and in my most threatening bellow yelled, "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME?" Please see the Vocaroo link for a low-quality replicated voice clip that I only wish could be as good as my fear-inspired ourburst: Link to Clip

The guy froze, his mouth open and face in total shock. I knew I caught him by surprise. It took me a few seconds, between him standing funny and the smell to realize that he crapped in his pants.

I looked around, and saw a few other people staring, probably because I had just yelled at someone in a park, and made an awkward walk away from the guy. I was shaken from being grabbed, and got to the Park Street station as fast as I could walk.
This was not the first time I was groped, and it will likely not be the last. I can only hope that this one man will have felt some sort of primal fear, and will never touch a person without their permission again.

Also, if anyone cares, I was coming out of seeing Muppets: Most Wanted. I loving love the Muppets.

tl;dr Guy grabbed my chest, I yelled real spooky-like, he pooped.

I mean, this is all believable up to the part where anyone but her considers her weird hobby of dumb voices scary, much less brown note capable.

# ¿ Jun 6, 2014 20:54

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

I'm used to bakeries having loaves either out on racks or behind glass, so you can either just get the loaf yourself or point to what you want. And yeah, sudden English teacher is weird, especially since he apparently didn't want any bread. Nope, he just likes to come into the bakery, hide behind shelves, deliver a sick burn, and then idly walk around with a mug of coffee.

# ¿ Jun 7, 2014 06:06

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

It's a Tumblr SJW thing. That and MRA forums aren't really STDH so much as childish people saying stupid things.

Content:

Yup, truly every young man's dream posted:

So Saturday night, myself and a few good buds are out at a trendy bar going through our usual routine: 1) drink, 2) goof off, 3) "spit game" at cute girls, and 4) dance like idiots. 9 times out of 10, this routine ends with three or four of us dudes eating torso-sized pizza slices and passing out in someone's living room with a Netflix movie on. I'm fine with that result, and had no intention of ending the night in any other way. On this Saturday night, however, there happened to be an absolutely gorgeous girl at the bar who, miraculously, was quite receptive to my version of steps 3 and 4. We took shots, talked about work, and even got sweaty together on the dance floor. At around 1 AM we exchanged numbers and agreed to get drinks later in the week. I then excused myself momentarily to go to the bathroom...

Queue the bathroom. I've stayed at 4- and 5-star hotels that didn't have bathrooms this nice. Each bathroom has its own locking door, large toilet, sink, and--you guessed it--Dyson AirBlade. Like most guys my age (26), I've wanted to stick my nuts into one of these puppies ever since I first laid eyes on one. So after finishing my business and washing up, I went for it. Pants around my ankles, I lowered my package into the crevice. Glory. I cannot describe to you how good if felt. It was like a thousand angels blowing cool air onto my sweaty sack from all sides at once. I lose myself in the moment. In fact, I am so wholly encompassed in the discovery I've just made that I don't immediately notice the door opening next to me. The music gets louder, the lights raise, and suddenly I'm exposed to the aforementioned gorgeous girls and two of her friends, who have just opened the door (which I forgot to lock). Screams of "WHAT THE gently caress" and "DON'T EVER loving CALL ME, YOU SICKO" followed, and I quickly exited the bar.

# ¿ Jun 10, 2014 10:55

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

While we're on academic STDH:

# ¿ Jun 11, 2014 04:58

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

A recommendation letter is not at all the same as a reference call, though. That letter is pure STDH. Maybe the professor wrote it, then crumpled it up and threw it away, but that's as far as it ever would have gone.

# ¿ Jun 11, 2014 21:41

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

silencekit posted:

edit: found something juicy, with bonus casual racism.

reddit posted:
TL:DR Bunch of grade 6 girl bullies expect to beat up a few little kids and swept away by a sea of em instead.
edit for clarity and grammar.

That's definitely STDH.

# ¿ Jun 13, 2014 18:59

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Content:

# ¿ Jun 14, 2014 20:30

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Nibbles141 posted:

Yeah most of those issues can be solved by presenting the letter. In fact they've probably been given an out to get any bad review deleted on that basis.

Presenting it to the police would result in even more fun. (Not for the attempted extortionist so much.)

# ¿ Jun 17, 2014 17:22

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Even as a little kid when one my dad's jerk friends thought it would be funny to switch my water glass with vodka, I knew that wasn't water as soon as it passed my lips.

# ¿ Jun 18, 2014 14:52

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Goon STDH posted:

I feel right at home in this thread yet never posted. I probably have a few gems for you guys. What happened today....

Quick backstory: I work for a multibillion dollar family owned company as a product manager. I make a good living, but my wife makes twice mine and we don't have debt.

I don't have to work, but like to. I got fed up with poo poo so I walked in one Monday, gave two weeks, and went home. My demands were the owners parking spot and a corner office. I didn't get those, but Next day I got a 30k raise. Now the game is how far can I go...

I honestly don't give a poo poo and it's kind of fun. Boss asked me how I felt with early morning China calls once a week, and I asked him how he'd feel about a punch in the balls and gently caress no.

Last week president of sales made a lovely comment about something, and I just responded with "or I can just go home now and you can figure it out ".

I am a nightmare employee, but at least I'm having fun with it. They are sending me to a free four seasons vacation for my performance. Might be quitting time again when I get back to see if I can hit six figs. FYI- there is zero hyperbole in anything above.

# ¿ Jun 20, 2014 04:03

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

To be fair, the TPS thread is mostly work-related bullshit that did happen.

# ¿ Jun 20, 2014 22:19

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Double Plus Good posted:

Any similar ones you can think of as well? Those are always good reads because the sheer amount of lies that are uncovered eventually is always mind-blowing.

The old STDH thread had a link to Linda Tirado's bullshit.

DrBouvenstein posted:

Weird request, but does anyone remember/have a copy/some link to an internet post (possibly from TVTropes? In one of the "Troper Tales sections?) I read about here a few years ago:

If I remember it right, the guy was trying to be one of those "citizen superhero" types, and described sewing some weights into gloves, like ball bearings or something, to better fight crime. He then said he went patrolling, or something, (possibly in/near a cemetery?) and claimed a wolf ran at him to attack, but he punched it in the face with his new gloves, and that it wouldn't be bothering anyone anymore.

There were a couple of old Weekend Web articles that made fun of amateur superhero forums:
http://www.somethingawful.com/weekend-web/strippers-vampires-superheroes/8/
http://www.somethingawful.com/weekend-web/superheroes-chrstian-teens/1/

# ¿ Jun 29, 2014 06:16

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

I for one am behind your STDH flash mob.

edit: Content:

quote:

I was hired by a religious group to do an illustration for their printed brochure. They loved it, and I sent them an invoice. Two months later I hadn�t been paid.

I called them, and their manager said they had prayed to God about my invoice, and He told them to use the money for their cause instead.

I waited a few minutes and called him back. I told him that I had prayed to God about it, and He said they should pay me.

They sent me a check.

ibntumart has a new favorite as of 06:24 on Jul 4, 2014

# ¿ Jul 4, 2014 05:44

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

"The teacher, she, and I enjoyed discussing the latest episode in Japanese during class just to piss the bullies of the class off who wanted to actually loving learn Japanese, not watch a sad weeaboo trio quote Brony lines at each other for fifty minutes three times a week."

# ¿ Jul 5, 2014 21:00

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

Zodijackylite posted:

Amerika.org posted: posted:
Let me be clear about what �racist� means in this context. I am a racist in the sense that I recognize the difference between racial and ethnic groups and that these differences are biological and convey unique abilities to each group.

"I.e., I am actually racist."

Zodijackylite posted:

Amerika.org posted: posted:
It does not mean that I sit around in my gated community in a big city and make veiled comments about those �difficult people� or speak in code words like �gentrification� to mean replacement of certain groups.

"Instead I display my racism openly!"

Zodijackylite posted:

Amerika.org posted: posted:
I had no use for the kind of political literature they taught, which was either left-leaning (�To Kill a Mockingbird�)....

It's been a while since I read that book, but I'm pretty sure the "left-leaning" propaganda the author is so angry about is the simple proposition that black people shouldn't be killed on white people's say-so and that everyone of every color should have equal treatment under the law.

Those parts of the author's post are all probably poo poo that did happen, though. His weird interpretation of history and how marijuana proves whites should only have children with other whites are also probably poo poo he believes.

# ¿ Jul 7, 2014 04:02

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

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.

# ¿ Jul 15, 2014 14:11

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

The Behind Closed Ovens columns are always full of ridiculous fast food worker/waitstaff revenge fantasies.

Non-Gawker Media content:

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.

# ¿ Jul 16, 2014 11:36

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

My Lovely Horse posted:

Doesn't even work in French. And you know they weren't speaking English.

Dude, what are you talking about. The very first thing I learned in French class was to salute the teacher and my classmates.

razorrozar posted:

Why is there so much poo poo on NAR that boils down to " white people get discriminated against too "?

That is a really dumb trend. I wonder what the raw submission of that looked like.

Really all of the bigotry tagged NAR entries are golden STDH.

Swedish hotels have surprisingly generous but capricious double booking policies posted:

(I work in the front desk at a hotel. I have a small handicap which makes my back look a little wavy, but it�s no obstacle in normal life. We have more reservations than we have rooms. There are several concerts in the city, and all hotels located within 10 miles from the city are fully booked. When this happens, the hotel is responsible to find rooms in the same or better category on other hotels. I have managed to book the last available room at our neighbor hotel. It�s starting to get very late, and I have only one check-in left, a couple from Italy. At 10:30 pm they arrive.)

Me: �Welcome to [Hotel]. Did you have a pleasant flight?�

(The couple looks angry towards me before the wife answers.)

Wife: *in very bad English* �I want my room now, and my luggage should be carried up!�

Me: �I am very sorry to say that we are fully booked today, but I have some very good news for you. I have managed to find a room for you on the hotel right across the street!�

(The couple looks at each other and they both start yelling at me in Italian. I am Scandinavian, so I only know English and Swedish, but I can sense that the words are not well meant and nice words.)

Me: �I�m so sorry. I don�t speak Italian, but I will gladly help you to move the luggage to the neighbor hotel.�

(The couple don�t give a d*** about what I�m trying to tell them. So, I just smile and pretend like everything is normal. My shift ends at 11 pm and the guests have now been standing in the front desk for almost ten minutes with constant yelling and screaming. Suddenly I feel a hand touching my shoulder from behind. It�s the night shift clerk who has arrived, and he wants to tell me something in the back office.)

Night Shift Clerk: �Do you know what they are telling you?�

Me: �No, but I have a strange feeling that it is not kind words.�

Night Shift Clerk: �Let me take care of this.�

(He enters the front desk.)

Night Shift Clerk: �I�m very sorry about my colleague. He has done everything in his power to help you. Let me make one thing clear��

(The Italian couple stops screaming for a second, and looks at my colleague.)

Night Shift Clerk: *in fluent Italian* �I forgot to mention that I speak fluent Italian. I have been in the back office the entire time, and I�ve been listening to every word you said to my colleague. It may be true that the customer is always right, but when you call someone a crooked dwarf, just because they look different, you don�t deserve any kind of good treatment. Earlier my colleague tried to tell you that we had managed to book the biggest suite at the neighbor hotel for a total cost of $5000, and you would have gotten it for free. At our hotel you have booked a standard room for $100. So, I�m very happy to say that you are going to sleep in the streets tonight. I just called the other hotel and cancelled the room. You have two minutes to get out of here before I call the police. You won�t be able to find room anywhere tonight. All the hotels are fully booked. Have a nice life!�

(The couple stand quiet in shock, and looked at my colleague with embarrassment. I later came out and escorted them to the streets. Later I heard that they tried to contact the hotel manager, but he only confirmed what we said and told them to get off our property!)

# ¿ Jul 20, 2014 11:50

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

This thread needs more content.

Yup, sounds like the standard surgeon pre-op discussion posted:

I have to get surgery soon, so today I met with the surgeon for my pre-op assessment. I�m thin, and as soon as he walked into the room, he told me how happy he was that I�m �not a fatty�, and that it�s really not that much harder or dangerous to operate on fat people, he just hates them because his first love was a fat girl and she rejected him. I explained to him that this was not okay and directed him to this blog. Just goes to show how prevalent and dangerous thin privilege is!

someone should tell the author that "and" is not a punctuation mark posted:

I went to see hamlet and the guy playing hamlet was rather cute and had a lot of shirtless scenes going on and so I stared at him and tried to make eye contact until he caught my eye and I wiggled my eyebrow and he broke character and smiled and after that I would catch him glancing my way and after the play was over he came into the lobby and pulled me into his dressing room and that is how I lost my virginity to someone with his own Wikipedia page

Hope Customer #2 is also a minor or else this STDH took a creepy turn posted:

(I am a short, 100 pound fifteen-year-old girl, and a lot of people try to intimidate me. I work in a fairly large bakery, with plenty of seats that are blocked off from the cashier.)

Customer #1: �Hi, can I get a brownie please?�

Me: �Sure thing!�

(I notice there is one, broken brownie left.)

Me: �If you like, ma�am, you can wait just one minute and there will be a fresh, unbroken one for you.�

Customer #1: �DON�T F***ING TELL ME WHAT TO DO! YOU ARE REFUSING ME SERVICE, YOU LAZY B****! GET ME A F***ING BROWNIE!�

Me: *shocked* �I�m sorry, ma�am. I�ll get that right away.�

Customer #1: *suddenly nice and sweet* �Thank you, honey!�

Me: �Here you go!�

(Customer #1 takes one look at it and goes berserk.)

Customer #1: �THIS IS F***ING BROKEN! I AM NOT EATING THIS S***!�

(Suddenly, she launches herself at me and grabs me by the hair. I have very long, very sensitive hair, so she has no trouble dragging me over the counter and onto the ground. She starts kicking me and screaming. Two customers rush to my rescue, restraining her and helping me off the ground.)

Customer #2: �Are you alright?�

Me: *shaking like a leaf* �I think so.�

(Customer #1 suddenly breaks free and rushes at me. I shriek rather loudly, but Customer #2 heroically jumps in front of her, effectively shielding me. The mall security has by now subdued her, but I still burst into tears. However, everything ended well: afterwards, Customer #2 bought me a coffee, and we have been dating for the past few months!)

# ¿ Jul 21, 2014 10:33

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# ¿ May 10, 2024 08:47

ibntumart: Mar 18, 2007; Good, bad. I'm the one with the power of Shu, Heru, Amon, Zehuti, Aton, and Mehen.; College Slice

I also like how Customer #2 bought her coffee, even though she presumably could have just poured herself some free coffee.

# ¿ Jul 21, 2014 12:33

The Something Awful Forums > Main > Post Your Favorite: Carefully Curated > shit_that_didnt_happen.txt: TRUE WISDOM FROM WHERE YOU EXPECT IT LEAST. AMEN!

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