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devnulljp wrote:

futuresailors wrote:You'd think Sean Connery would have had some candy...

:fs:

I threw a burnt flag into a police car window. Ran, got my ass beat by 3 cops in a alley as they yelled that they would kill me if they ever saw me alone at night. Then I was taken to jail,made bond 4 hours later. Had court the next day. Charged with shit loads of charges, told the judge my story and showd him my cuts etc from getting beat up, walked out after paying $200 fine and felony littering on my record for 3 years.

doomfuzz wrote:I threw a burnt flag into a police car window. Ran, got my ass beat by 3 cops in a alley as they yelled that they would kill me if they ever saw me alone at night. Then I was taken to jail,made bond 4 hours later. Had court the next day. Charged with shit loads of charges, told the judge my story and showd him my cuts etc from getting beat up, walked out after paying $200 fine and felony littering on my record for 3 years.

Littering and....littering and.......

maz91379 wrote:do you treat bee stings with a base or an acid?

You don't -- that's really just something to keep your mind busy.
The pain in a bee sting is due to phospholipase A (A2 I think, it's been a while) which smashes up thrombokinase, and blocks oxidative phosphorylation and hydrogenase activities, not really the pH -- although the old adage is base for bee sting (because it has an acid optimum), vinegar for wasp sting (because it has a basic optimum). The big worry is allergic reactions because there are so many large molecular weight proteins in there -- mellitin which smashes up red blood cells, and hyaluronidase which lets the venom spread by permeabilising your tissue. Ice is good. If you're lucky, a slice of pineapple might help -- the papain will chop up the phospholipase. Toothpaste works great too.

(Sorry, long winded -- molecular biology wonk and been looking into getting some beehives ... )

One of my favourite stories:

I was at a buddys place, this was more than ten years ago. We were listening to Gorefest and having a hell of a time because this dude's parents were not there and we were having fun with the bong we improvised out of a soap bottle and part of an olive oil flask. So we were at his place getting stoned and it all was hella fun. at some point we decided it would be a good idea to hide underneath the porchstairs and read a book of indian poetry he was reading at the time. So there we were, sitting and reading some of that when the last tree is cut down stuff. Anyway it started raining really strong while we were crouched under those stairs. Really strong, it suddenly started pouring down and at first we wanted to just wait it over but it didn't stop and somehow we were suddenly sitting in a creek. So we decide to run inside but because we were so stoned and clumsy we did not make it up those damn stairs without getting soaking wet. So we said fuck it, undressed and started walking through town in our underpants. Completely stoned. Shit, there was water everywhere, like the street turned into rivers and we were lying in them, trying to swim uphill in the gutter. It was awesome. Then this dog showed up. There was nobody around, we did not see a single car, or person, it was a ghost town, save for the two stoners in their briefs and this skinny ass dog that suddenly stands right next to us like he was rained down from the sky too. But he didn't seem to mind us and so we didn't much care about him either. We decided to go downhill to the seashore and that dog follows us. Down the hill. Dog's with us. Cross the highway. Dog's with us. On the seaside walk (with fucking towering waves that shower us every five seconds) - dog's there with us. We even climbed onto a rock in the sea to have the surf spray against us. That crazy dog was there. He didn't stop following us around. Stayed at my buddys place, he even ran after the motorbike when my buddy drove me to the train station the next day. That's how we found Rain Man.

(The dog was then named Rain Man.)

Story 1:
I don't know how old I was, but I was very young. I went up on the roof to get a baseball. I fell backwards and went halfway through a skylight. Told no one. About two weeks later, really bad rain storm...

Story 2:
Around the same age. I didn't really get how keys work. Tried to steal my moms car - well not steal, borrow without telling anyone. Tried using a pen clip that was shaped similarly to the key. Fell through the key hole into the ignition or something. It was very expensive getting it out...

Achtane wrote:

DarkAxel wrote:vomit story: once i didn't have any other option than to puke into a handbasin. It clogged... so i unclogged it with a violin bow and then threw it out of the window

...a violin bow?

yeah a violin bow

what, wanna fight about it?

KILLING ME WONT BRING BCK YOUR GOD DAMN HONEY

jfrey wrote:Story 1:
I don't know how old I was, but I was very young. I went up on the roof to get a baseball. I fell backwards and went halfway through a skylight. Told no one. About two weeks later, really bad rain storm...

When I was at art school me and a bunch of other guys used to play hackysack at lunchtimes. Only we didn't have an actual hackysack, we'd just make a ghetto ball out of rolled up paper with stickytape around it. So we'd whip one of these up, go out into the courtyard, stand in a circle and kick this thing to each other for shits and giggles. Occasionally (like every day), someone would boot the thing so high that it would go onto the roof of the automotive repair shop next door. No big deal, just leave it up there and go make another paper-and-tape ball and continue the game. We must have lost thirty or forty kickballs onto that roof over the course of a few months.

Anyway, one Monday me and a couple of the other guys get called into our tutor's office. He asks if we've been kicking paper balls onto the roof of the workshop next door. We say we have, but not on purpose of course. Tutor goes on to tell us that the balls had been rolling into the rain guttering and downpipes. Not really a problem over the course of the dry summer, but that previous weekend there had been a massive rainstorm. With no drainage due to paper ball-filled guttering, the rain built up and built up until the roof collapsed under the weight of the water. Flooded out the workshop, all the cars, parts and tools got rained the fuck out for two days... big dollars worth of damage.

We were not popular for quite a while.

The lack of police being called stories on here disappoints me.

I was like 14 and my friend had a bunch of cap guns, and we had some fireworks left over from the 4th of july, so we take em, and find this giant pipe that got taken out from a drainage thing behind his house. so we load think "cool, this will make things louder right?" so we shoot the cap gun in the pipe and it gets considerably louder. then we fill it up with the fireworks (it was all mainly just loud noise shit) and light em off in there. super loud, we are laughing our asses off, but the neighbors, luckily behind a fence, heard the noise and all we heard was some woman screaming "GET INSIDE THE HOUSE SOMEONE'S SHOOTING AT US" so kids start screaming, adults start screaming, we take off like motherfuckers and run into his house. within 10 minutes, we have cop cars from our town and 3 surrounding towns driving around the neighborhood, and going door to door to ask if anyone had heard or seen anything. luckily we never got caught, but our neighborhood started a neighborhood watch committee so i guess we did good for the community, right?

Ugh... I've many stories,
When I was 17, I started getting into acid pretty heavily. So, I had returned to my(mom's) house after dosing up at a party. It was late and I was tripping balls, still. My mom had a very Pee Wee-esque bike, a Malibu Beach Cruiser in red and white. I decided a bike ride on acid would be fun. So off I went, through a lilly-white ass neighborhood, tripping on a bike. I tear down the street and get to one of the neighborhood's steepest hills. It was summer, and the early morning air wasm quite nice, with the loveliest breeze. Why not up the ante-WHY7 NOT RIDE DOWN THIS BIG ASS HILL AT FULL SPEED, TOTALLY BARE-ASSED?! So, off came the clothes,and I bookedit down said hill. As soon as I got to the bottom, some guy's grabbing his paper off the front lawn and sees me. " HEY, WHY DON'CHA PUT SOME CLOTHES ON, YA FREAK, BEFORE i CALL THE COPS!" To have seen my naked,pale ass scrambling up that hill to recover my khakis-lol, that shit had to look funny. But what was surprising( to me, at least) was how nonchalant dude's reaction was...I suppose I'm very lucky he never called the cops!

blooghost wrote:Ugh... I've many stories,
When I was 17, I started getting into acid pretty heavily. So, I had returned to my(mom's) house after dosing up at a party. It was late and I was tripping balls, still. My mom had a very Pee Wee-esque bike, a Malibu Beach Cruiser in red and white. I decided a bike ride on acid would be fun. So off I went, through a lilly-white ass neighborhood, tripping on a bike. I tear down the street and get to one of the neighborhood's steepest hills. It was summer, and the early morning air wasm quite nice, with the loveliest breeze. Why not up the ante-WHY7 NOT RIDE DOWN THIS BIG ASS HILL AT FULL SPEED, TOTALLY BARE-ASSED?! So, off came the clothes,and I bookedit down said hill. As soon as I got to the bottom, some guy's grabbing his paper off the front lawn and sees me. " HEY, WHY DON'CHA PUT SOME CLOTHES ON, YA FREAK, BEFORE i CALL THE COPS!" To have seen my naked,pale ass scrambling up that hill to recover my khakis-lol, that shit had to look funny. But what was surprising( to me, at least) was how nonchalant dude's reaction was...I suppose I'm very lucky he never called the cops!

It's stories like this that make me wonder if the people around me when I'm walking around in public are possibly tripping balls?

Fuzzy Fred wrote:The lack of police being called stories on here disappoints me.

I was like 14 and my friend had a bunch of cap guns, and we had some fireworks left over from the 4th of july, so we take em, and find this giant pipe that got taken out from a drainage thing behind his house. so we load think "cool, this will make things louder right?" so we shoot the cap gun in the pipe and it gets considerably louder. then we fill it up with the fireworks (it was all mainly just loud noise shit) and light em off in there. super loud, we are laughing our asses off, but the neighbors, luckily behind a fence, heard the noise and all we heard was some woman screaming "GET INSIDE THE HOUSE SOMEONE'S SHOOTING AT US" so kids start screaming, adults start screaming, we take off like motherfuckers and run into his house. within 10 minutes, we have cop cars from our town and 3 surrounding towns driving around the neighborhood, and going door to door to ask if anyone had heard or seen anything. luckily we never got caught, but our neighborhood started a neighborhood watch committee so i guess we did good for the community, right?

Suburban as hell.

When a friend was visiting me:

[gunshots]
Friend: "Ahhhh Shit Oh My God!!!"
Me: "What is it? What happened? Are you ok? Why are you screaming?"
Friend: "There were gunshots right outside!"
Me: "What?"
Friend: "Gunshots. Right outside!"
Me: "Oh... Ok... Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. Nearly gave me a heart attack. Don't do that."
Friend: "But there was a shooting or something."
Me: "I think I need to lay down. Christ, my heart is pounding. Please don't scare me like that again."

I once got food poisoning and Crapped my pants and threw up on myself in a gas station bathroom while on a class trip.
I ended up hiding out in the bathroom naked and sick for 20 minutes until someone came back with some clothes.

To this day I don't think most of the people on the trip actually know what happened (which is good)

It was a trip to see BB King at a local college (he was awesome)

Before we left I ate a ham Sandwich that was left in my car all day, I was sick for days which would have been acceptable if not for the giant amount of BM that exploded out of me and destroyed everything including my socks.

I made it into the gas station on time, wipped open the bathroom door and this kid was in their picking his fro, he got mad and slammed the door, and there in the back of the gas station I lost all control of my bodily functions.

Obvious questions like why didn't you go into the girls room, have already been asked and I have no good answers.

One time I broke my finger during a football game. It got caught funny in some guy's jersey while I was making a last-ditch-effort diving tackle. I didn't realize anything was wrong at first, but then I tried to make a fist and I couldn't because the end of my finger was in the wrong place and blocking the ones next to it. When they did the x-rays at the hospital, they were like, "Oh, how did you break your finger last time?" I was all like, the hell are you talking about? Turns out I'd broken the same finger in a different place previously, never realized it, and have no idea how it happened. So apparently my fingers are really bad at feeling pain.