Obligitory "this happened on monday". I’m 25M and I took an extended vacation in Berlin for 3 weeks. I’m overweight and it has caused some self-esteem issues with the ladies over the course of my life. I’m self-conscious about it and, as such, I’ve always been terrified to have any kind of physical relationship.

Whilst visiting Italy for a 2 day detour, I saw a prostitute on the street and it piqued my curiosity. The streets aren’t exactly littered with them where I’m from and it’s illegal there anyway, so it’s never been something I thought twice about. I went back to my hotel and a quick google revealed that prostitution is perfectly legal in most parts of Europe, so I decided to leave my V-card in Berlin. Experience every part of the culture here. As I’d never had a girlfriend and zero sexual experience of any kind up to this point in my life, I’d pretty much given up hope that it was ever going to happen for me, so I made up my mind. End the trip ‘with a bang’. Calibrate my confidence and get that first (if only) time out of the way. So I started doing some research. I looked into brothels all over the city, checked the menus, the prices, etc. I really did my homework and carefully considered my options. I wasn’t just going to throw it away in some nasty place I’d want to forget about. After finding the option that fit with my budget and preferences, I ventured out into the city for one last big adventure before heading back to the states. The subway ride there was gut wrenching; my hands were shaking, my heart was pounding, and when I got off the train I felt like I was going to vomit. I was more nervous than I had ever been in my entire life.

I got there, and it was a classy place. Really nicely decorated. Not ritzy, but elegant and nice. But my anxiety only got worse. I picked a room and they sent in the girls that were available for me to choose from. They came in, spun around, and walked out. One by one. My anxiety worsens yet again, and my glasses literally fogged up. I thought that was something that only happened in movies and cartoons. I picked the girl I liked. They housekeeper came in with a Red Bull on a fancy silver platter for me, and five minutes later the girl I picked came in. She was a Brazilian goddess. Insanely hot, curves in all the right places, and an absolute knockout. I held out a trembling hand full of cash and attempted to discuss terms and compensation with her. Here’s the first part of the fuck up. I quickly realized this girl I picked didn’t speak a single fucking word of English. And now I was too nervous to ask for someone else. From there on out, the two of us were communicating with hand gestures.

She gestured for me to disrobe, and I was so terrified I actually asked her if I could keep my pants on. She shook her head. So I disrobed and said “it gets bigger”. What can I say? I’m a grower, not a show-er. She had me lay face down on the bed and started to massage me. Eventually she flipped me back over and I was totally, completely, 100% flaccid. So she started to use her hand. I don’t know what she thought she was going to accomplish by going so fast, but she was really just mashing it into oblivion. I made a ridiculous “slow jerk” motion with my hand to get her to slow down. Thank God she understood that, or we would have had serious problems.

The second part of the fuck up, as it turns out, was a decade in the making. I’d been watching porn practically every day since puberty, and my member just wasn’t as excited as I was. So guess who didn’t want to wake up? Yup. A combination of my nerve-wracking fear and a likely over indulgence in adult entertainment had effectively turned my gizzard into a taffy puller. Eventually she got it hard enough to put it in, but she just kind of sat there and wiggled around on it for some reason. Probably because at this point it’s not long or hard enough to do much else with. To clarify, she was on top the entire time. I didn’t move once. I just sort of laid there, petrified, and let her do the necessaries. Anyway, not long after it went soft and slipped right back out again.

The condom wasn’t doing me any favors. I tried saying the word “bounce”. Huzzah! She understood that one. But all for naught; the next 30 minutes (I paid for 40, mind you) were comprised of switching back and forth between her riding me and her using her hands to get me hard again. Mostly the latter. Her body language and facial expression both indicated, after a while, that this was not something she was used to. Not disappointed or frustrated. More like surprised and confused. Ok, maybe a little frustrated, too. Who could blame her? She had a body that would give a dead man wood. And here she is, struggling to give an erection to someone who is far too young to suffer from erectile dysfunction. At one point I suggested she use her mouth. Turned out she spoke 3 words of English. “That costs extra.” I didn’t have extra, so I had to make do.

No kissing on the mouth and no oral probably didn’t help the situation either. Miraculously, this story eventually had a happy ending, though I have no idea how. She said “come”, so I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and focused. Unfortunately, with my eyes closed, I was so preoccupied with finishing that I didn’t pay any attention to what she was doing down there. Cue fuck up number three. When she was finishing me off with her hand, she took the condom off and aimed my dick…at me. Like, straight back at me. I get it. She has a job to do. It (probably) wasn’t malicious. She just didn’t want to get messy. However, collateral damage on my end clearly wasn’t a concern of hers. Don’t get me wrong, it felt great, but when I’m by my lonesome I usually take measures to ensure I’m not my own blank canvas. So ensues another misfire, quite literally, in an awkward sexual encounter as I proceeded to spray myself machine-gun-style all over my own torso. There were a dozen places in the room I’d rather have done it, but closing my eyes like it was a fucking surprise party made it a good day for some friendly fire.

She smiles, hands me a towel, and says what I can only assume is Portuguese for “You just rocked my world.” Then she points to the clock. She was giving me the five-minute warning. We were already done because we had wasted so much time trying to get me hard. I suppose it’s better than lasting 30 seconds for my first time. In the end I really don’t know if it was nerves or the porn. I’m guessing it was a little of both, but I psyched myself out way too much and the end result was a hot Brazilian woman trying to figure out what to do with an incredibly flaccid penis. So now I’ll always remember my first horribly awkward sexual encounter as one with someone who couldn’t get me hard and had no idea why because she didn’t speak English.

TLDR; Accidentally picked an escort that spoke no English, couldn’t stay hard, and came all over myself when I finally could. EDIT: Spelling, Grammar

This happened this past Friday night/ Saturday morning.

I always been shy and depressed so talking with people is hard for me. Even harder to talk with women. Plus I don't think of myself as very attractive and thing women wouldn't be interested in my anyways.

I am 25 and a virgin. I never kissed a girl or even held a girls hand before. So I figured I do what everyone seems to do in the movies and go to a bar and see what happens. I don't drink but I have read it can make you less shy and more out going. What could possible go wrong?

Its Friday evening and I decided to go downtown and find a nice bar with lots of people. Got there around 6 pm and sat down at those stools at the counter. The lady behind the counter asked me what I wanted and since I don't drink I had no idea and just told her this is my first time.

She starts listing off bunch of stuff like beers, cocktails, shots and bunch of other stuff I really can't remember. I figured I would try a little of everything and see what I like.

I started off with a Molsen Canadian. One of the few beers I actually do know. Tasted horrible, they all tasted horrible. But I kept drinking one after the other and just having random beers and shots and cocktails. After the 3rd one I felt a little sick and threw up in the bathroom. Felt much better after puking.

Its about 1 am, not sure how many drinks I have had. I probably puked about 4 times and still have not chatted with anyone except the lady behind the counter who was the one asking me what I wanted to drink. I trip and my glasses get knocked off as I was making my way to the door. A woman picks them hands puts them on my face and asks me if I was all right. Told her I was fine and just had to much to drink.

We both head outside and start walking and she asks me where I was headed. Told her I was going the skytrain to go home. She grabs my arm and pulls me towards her and wraps her arm in mine and said the skytrain is closed this late and why don't I just stay the night at her place.

We get to her place and as soon as we walk into her apartment she starts kissing me and I am standing there like an idiot. I never kissed before so didn't really know how to. She happened to guess what I never done this before so she said she would teach me. At this point I am getting excited and nervous at the same time that somehow I will fuck it all up. After some kissing she takes my pants off and I am already hard. She teases me with her tongue then proceeds to give me a blowjob. I take off her shirt and she goes back to blowing me as I tried to take off her bra. Words can't describe the feeling or my emotions as it was finally happening. But it didn't last long as I had just managed to take her bra off that I felt something run down my penis. I didn't realize what it was until the smell hit me. She had puked on me while giving me a blowjob. The smell and the sight of her puking soon took over me and I also vomited all over her head.

I pulled up my vomit covered pants and ran to the bathroom and quickly got into the shower. Started to wash myself and my clothes the best I could. She having taken off all her clothes came into the shower with me and apologized repeatedly as I did the same.

I got out quickly, grabbed my stuff and left as she was still in the shower. Its about 3 am maybe and since no trains were running I walked around in the cold, rainy night.

Once I finally got home I quickly took another shower for god knows how long. Luckily it was a Saturday and my family was still asleep. Went to my room and passed out.

I wake up to my phone ringing but I couldn't move my body. I just laid there on the bed with my eyes closed and a massive headache. My whole body was in pain. I eventually fell back asleep and just woke up few hours ago. I took another shower and when I got to back to my room I noticed I had about 4 calls from her and dozen or so text messages. I don't remember giving her my phone number so not sure how she got it. The texts all were basically her apologizing and wanting to make it up to me. I have yet to respond and don't really know what to say.

TL;DR: Lonely virgin. Got drunk. Met a girl. Things got wet, really wet.

Edit: I was pasted out for maybe 30 hours. By the time I saw her missed calls and texts it was around 10:30 pm and didn't want to call her in case she is sleeping. Pretty sure she has work in the morning. I do plan on calling her tomorrow.

Also I left without saying anything because I never been in such a situation and was just overwhelmed with fear. For what, I don't really know. I never drank before and had no idea what was happening. I tend to over think everything. All I remember when I left was fear that this wasn't my house and I would get charged for breaking in or something. I really didn't remember much until I read those texts. I am surprised I even remember anything since I read drinking to much can make you forget things.

-- As for being confident, that was taken away from me long time ago. Few years back I tried random apps to meeting people since it was easier for me to chat to people through text. I didn't get any replies for a period of few months. So I decided to simple remove my pictures and descriptions of me and somehow I met tons of girls on apps and online. How ever when they asked to see me and I showed them a pic of myself they stopped responding. Not even gradually less talking over time, nope, just a dead stop in replies after they saw my pic. I don't know if its because of me being unattractive or because of the color of my skin or whatever. I simply decided to not show pics of myself and didn't say the color of my skin and just told them I wasn't ready. I figured if they got to know the real me things would be different. Some pressured me and I just told them I didn't want to say. Some where okay with it and others weren't. Those that were, we chatted for months, a few even chatting online and text for years. After chatting with them for this long I thought they obliviously like me for me, why else would they chat with me for thing long? So I decided to tell them and what happened? The exact same thing that always happened. They stopped responding. For someone to throw away months and even years of being friends simply because of they way you look takes a huge fucking hit to your confidence.

Out of all those years of chatting, only two didn't judge me and still talked to me. And those two people I considered my best friends. Those two gave me a reason to keep trying. They mean everything to me.

Also I wasn't trying to hook up with any of them. Just needed someone to talk to and from there see how things go. They all know I was talking to multiple people as I told them. I believe in being honest is one of the most important things. --

Two things you need to know going into this. (A) this happened yesterday and (B) This is a sex story. A bad sex story.

Background: I've been using Tinder for a while now and I've been getting my kicks picking up cougars in the VA/NC beach area. I found that most of the older women are looking for NSA so it just makes it easier and it suits my needs. Everything was going great for the couple months I was pulling this off... and then Wednesday happened. I get a message on Tinder from a chick I had messaged a month back. She was a nice housewife type, pretty face, Mid 40's, inviting smile, built like a barrel (Nothing wrong with that). We started talking and by that night she let me know she was very interested in meeting me. She asked to see me for breakfast at a diner... Thursday morning.

I have a rule. I have always followed this rule and for the most part it has saved my ass from time to time. Trust your gut. Wanting to meet me next day was a major red flag. Girls who pick up strangers for sex are a little crazy. Girls who immediately fetch dudes to have sex the following day are the wear-your-skin-mask-and-dance-the-tango crazy. I look over her updated pictures and figure she must be harmless.

We meet up in person and she ends up being a very sweet but nervous woman. She was blushing and sweating the entire time. We end up chilling and she explains that shes not looking for solo but a third wheel to spice up her marriage... An entire new set of red flags. Sadly by this time my penis had taken control of the ship. He chose to ignore the fact that she wasn't wearing a wedding ring and that her husband had not accompanied her to this little brunch to meet the male gigalo (Not to be confused with Jugalo).

I start asking questions but she seems like she wants to leave the details to Friday night. "Fuck yeah" my penis says. "What if her husband is not okay with this Mr. penis?" I say. "Fuck Him" My penis says. I'm all down for new experiences but I have my limits. Before I can change my mind, my penis agrees to meet up in a hotel for drinks on Friday.

Friday roles around and I'm trimmed, showered and ready to go. I get to the hotel and knock on the door. Much to my horror a fat balding man answers the door. Dudes a dough boy and I can already feel this was a mistake. He welcomes me in very nonchalantly. Wife's there too and we sit on the balcony and start drinking. I was disarmed by how cool they were and everything seemed to be going good (She was wearing the ring at this time).

After two hours and two bottles. he gets up to go take a piss. She takes advantage of this and leads me back to the bed room. I'm not sure if I wanna start with him gone but she was very reassuring (Well at least Mr. penis was reassured). She starts stripping and then the husband appears like a phantom outa no where. Stay cool dude, I tell myself, hes just a fat dude who wants you to boink his wife. This is how the modern world works dude. So I start on his wife and he takes of his shirt and has himself a wank in the chair next to us. Weird as things go but I decided to avert my eyes and pretend there wasn't a fucking goblin beating his meat to me ploughin his old lady. We go through a solid half hour when I feel a presence.

The husband is standing behind me and he has his hand on my shoulder. He has this strange stoic look on his face like the thousand yard stare you see on convicts when their getting strapped into an electric chair. Mind you I am still balls deep in his wife who ignores our staring contest. I have no idea how long it lasted. I could feel a sweat coming on and it wasn't from the sex. I needed this to end. His grip on my should wasn't a pull or a squeeze it was just this strange placement. Like he was non-verbally saying you did good now you're done. I didn't know what to do. I stopped humping but his wife continued to drill me. I was caught between a rock and hard place so I did what any grown man-child with a sick sense of humor and a reason to feel ashamed would do. I winked at him.

I am not proud of my life. I have done a lot of fucked up things. All of the perversion and debauchery in my life has led to that singular moment. The moment when a calm, hairy, portly man in his mid forties.... turned into a growling, hairy, portly man in his mid forties who let a younger dude have sex with the love of his life. He punched me square in the back. We went from pleasantly have sex to angrily necked wrestling. He pulls me off his wife and shoves me into the corner next to the AC unit. I yell "what the fuck" and he just collapses onto the bed and starts crying. I have never seen anything so heart wrenching. It was a little too sobering.

His wife had this bewildered look on her face. The next ten minutes are some of the most awkward of my life. He is uncontrollably sobbing explaining that he asked us to stop but she was moaning too loud to hear him so he tried to put a stop to it and I continued despite his protest! I'm a bastard but not that much of a bastard. I spoke up to defend myself (I honestly didn't hear him say a word, I wan't looking at him). I got shut down immediately. The wife was having a panic attack and was sounding a lot like she was blaming me for this. Again I was now extremely sober and extremely stressed at the situation. I just felt bad for the guy. I felt sick. I threw up. Not the nice in the back of your mouth kind. It was the I had several glasses of wine and immediately followed it with vigorous sex kind of vomit.

They both stopped and looked at me like i murdered a puppy in front of them. I grabbed my pants and walked out of the room naked. No one stopped me. I was sober enough to call a cab (On speed dial in my phone). I walked through the lobby and waited to go home. The END.

In all fairness, I learned a valuable lesson and won't be ignoring my gut feeling any time soon.

TL;DR Winked at a husband while ploughin his wife, got what I deserved.

I used to work trade-shows. I would travel the country going to home shows, garden shows etc. and selling products to people. I was at a show in Michigan and we had an awesome weekend and sold better than we ever had. The show didn't end until 7PM but we ended up selling out at 2pm and so we started to pack up early.

My co-worker tells me he has an idea which I immediately think is brilliant. We decide to remove our product from the table and try to sell someone something that didn't actually exist. To just make something up and sell it. We took an empty box and taped it up like it hadn't been opened and got ready. I saw a man walking in our direction and I went into my pitch mode.

Me: Sir, have you ever tried out this before, it's an amazing new product!

Man: What is it?

Me: Come over here and let me tell you a little about it! It's amazing!

The man walks over to our booth space and I grab a empty box and handed it to him. At this point I can tell my co-worker is trying not to laugh and I'm doing my best to appear dead serious.

Me: So there's a lot of different uses for this, it's really good to take to the beach, it's highly convenient when flying, and it's great for families.

Man: What is it?

Me: As I said it's an absolutely awesome thing, every household needs one and I personally believe you could definitely use one of these.

Man: It sounds great but what does it do?

At this point I'm trying my hardest not to laugh and about to tell the man that I'm joking before it's too late when my co-worker decides to step in.

CW: Sir, I'm the manager here, I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you that I think this product would be perfect for you.

Man: What are all the uses of the product?

CW: Well it's absolutely excellent for road trips, and it will keep the wife happy. I just know that it's something you need.

Me: Sir, I'll tell you what, normally we sell this online for $30.00 but today since it's the last day of the show and we only have a couple of hours left, I want you to take one home for just $5.00

Man: Listen, I don't know if your understanding what I am saying, what does this actually do?

The man rather than getting angry seemed like maybe he just wasn't catching on.

Me: Sir, I've told you multiple times, you can take it to the beach and it's great at the beach. You just set it with your phone and keys and use it on the beach and if it gets a little wet you don't even have to worry about it because it's waterproof. It can go on the plane.

This is where I decide to actually try to close the guy hard, just to see what happens.

Me: Listen, your not going to get a better deal than this, we've got to keep working and it's only $5.00 so even if it doesn't work it's not super expensive, plus we offer a money-back guarantee so that if you aren't satisfied with your purchase you can always get your money back. How would you like to pay today, we take cash check or card.

The man proceeded to take out his wallet and hand me a $5.00 bill. I then realize that I hadn't totally thought this through. I had never expected to actually sell this to someone. I'm freaking out now trying to figure out a way to explain this when my co-worker comes up with the perfect solution.

CW: Sir you've actually just participated in an effort to raise consumer purchasing awareness. There's been a lot of people going around buying things without being fully informed on the product and then getting injured from product misuse. We were sent here to raise consumer awareness and show people to ask questions before you buy.

I realize my co-worker is a genius. I also notice how this explanation didn't exactly make the man happy as he stormed off, I wish the story ended there but this is called TIFU for a reason.

The cops came over to our booth 15 minutes later, and arrested us. There was no record of us actually being there, the man had reported our booth saying that he "didn't like the consumer awareness booth that tricks people" and the show director ended up calling the cops after the man told him what had happened. They had thought we were con artists trying to steal people's money based on his description of what we did and also the fact that there was no company there doing a "consumer awareness" demonstration.

It took us 8 hours to sort everything out being as we had out of state driver licenses, a rental car, and no way to prove we weren't scam artists other than our word. They ended up getting our boss on the phone and checking to see if we actually worked for him, and questioning us both a lot before we finally got to go home. Needless to say my co-worker and I didn't have a job to come back home to.

UPDATE: Since this post got way bigger than I expected I'm going to start selling empty box's here. You can get one for only $3.00, that's $2.00 off the original price!!!

EDIT: TLDR: I sold some guy an empty box for $5.00 and almost got arrested.

This story starts near Dallas, Texas, in 2012. Then, the story moves near Joplin, Missouri.

So in 2012, I very simply made a joke about starting a cult to my friend Matt. We wound up making fake rules and drew a picture of our god. By the next week, we had forgotten all about it.

Fast forward to July, 2015, where things start to get interesting. I was in my junior year of high school, and had moved to Missouri with my parents in August of 2014. While driving around with my friend Thomas (at like 4 in the morning lol) a conversation about religion brought up the memory of my joke in middle school. I told him about it, and we had a good laugh. I forgot once again, until mid August.

I remembered my cult, once again, but this time decided to do something with it. I still remembered my original name for him, Yloh Retsam (it's just holy master backwards). It started with a simple weebly website. I made a silly site detailing my discovery of Yloh, his rules, and the customs of the "church." It went into pretty extravagant detail, and thus I decided it deserved attention via social media. But what to do with a church? Ah, how about I set a date and have an official meeting? September 17 seemed like a good day, and the local bicentennial park seemed like a good place. I made Facebook and Twitter posts, invited all of my Facebook friends to come to my meeting, and linked them to the site. Then I decided that social media wasn't enough, I didn't have enough attention coming to it.

For this reason, I made flyers and posted them all over the school, handed them out at school, posted them in town, etc. and talked to everyone I could about it. I basically had 50% of my 1,600 student high school believing that I was a fucking nutjob cult leader. The other 50% believed that my sole purpose in this was to make fun of Jesus. Thus, the retaliation began.

Before that, however, I made a friend. A fellow student whom I had only met once, Jacob. He saw what I was doing and took great interest in it, and we talked about it every time we saw each other for about a week until I decided that I would appoint him as my assistant.

Anyway, with a new friend along for the ride, the retaliation began. It started with members of the religiously zealous baseball and football teams. The first incident of anything negative occurring as a result of Yloh happened during CAT time (basically a homework/break period at my school), when Jacob and I were talking to the sport guys about it in the cafeteria. To paraphrase the conversation: "So this is serious?" "Of course! Why would we joke about something like this?" "You're so full of shit." "That's your opinion, man" "YER MAKIN FUN O JESUS M8 I WONT STAND FER THIS" "Okay, but the fact of the matter is that I'm not making fun of Jesus. I'll let you in on a secret. Yeah, it's bullshit. But this is more a statement then making fun of any religion." I suppose that the pea-brain didn't really understand what I was trying to tell him, so his response was: "I'm gonna beat the shit out of you. I love Jesus." "Fucking do it man, we're in the middle of the cafeteria. There are teachers everywhere. You hit me, and I'll have a bruise. But you'll be kicked out of baseball, so maybe that's not such a good idea." He bowed up at me and then backed off.

I thought that would be the end of it, but God (hahaha) was I wrong.

By the next day, I was back to passing out flyers. This time, however, a grey haired teacher came up to me and told me and Jacob and informed us that we needed to stop. I told him I certainly had the right to pass the posters out, because there were Christian organizations and churches that had things posted around the school! If they could, so could I. He asked me to at least get permission from our principal, and I obliged.

Jake and I walked into the principal's office, and began a conversation with him about it. To this day, he still remains one of my favorite people in that school as a result of that conversation. He was very respectful, and listened intently to what I had to say. Jacob got kicked out halfway through for laughing at what was going on. Anyway, to make this part short, we came to the conclusion that I was allowed to hand them out or set stacks on the tables in the cafeteria for people to pick up, but I could not tape them along the hallways. I agreed.

Over the course of the next few weeks, we received more backlash than we could ever have imagined. Apparently, word got out to the local churches and they started to comment and try to argue with my concept of God. Next, we were threatened by rednecks from all over the area, literally telling people that they planned on going to the meeting and (no fucking joke) killing us. More and more members of the sport teams started telling people that they were going to kick our asses. This eventually escalated so far that the police were called and asked to attend the meeting in order to ensure that we were safe.

Fast forward once again, to September 17th, day of the meeting. At 6:00, the meeting began. People showed up alright, but not anyone (at all) that said they were coming to the meeting came. The people that came were the members of the local churches that were taunting us on the website. Oh, and of course, the police. They wound up having to chase out a few rednecks that came by for us, and even more of them drove by multiple times. Slowing down, and then picking up speed once they saw the police. We had snacks with the church members, and were as polite as we could be with them. Then, Jacob's mother pulled into the park, and got out of her car screaming at Jacob about the whole thing, and demanding that he come home with her that instant. Jacob refused to leave, and she left in tears. My mother didn't find out until a few months ago, thankfully, because she probably would have killed me over it had I been living with her when she found out.

Anyway, before the week was over, I decided that I was pretty bored with it. I gave Jacob all of the passwords to the social media, website, and email. I officially resigned as pastor that evening. Jacob took my place. Then, his family started getting threats, so he decided that he was also done. But of course he couldn't let it go out without one final joke, so everything on the website was cleared and replaced with one single link. I'll let you find out what it links to.

Edit: links removed

TL;DR: I fucked up by starting a religion and almost getting me, my friend, and his family killed by rednecks.

TL;DR: <- hover over that to see.

mandatory "actually happened years ago". We're gonna tell this story from a variety of different perspectives, because I honestly believe that's the best way to hear it and usually when I tell it my buddy Ricky is there to tell his part.

8:30 - Myself and two friends we'll call Kevin and Sylar have just finished eating at a chinese buffet. We're high school age teens, we're bored, there's a walmart in the same shopping center across the parking lot.

8:35 - Ricky gets a call, it's Sylar, "Hey man, you want to come meet Kevin, Pyronius, and I at walmart. We're just hanging out." He's in.

8:40 - The manager of walmart who we'll call Manny is having a rough day, there have been a lot of thefts lately and he's having to reprimand one of his employees. To make matters worse three retarded looking high school boys are headed his way and they clearly want to ask him something.

"Hey man, do you have any megaphones?"

No, he sighs, they don't carry megaphones. No, no ping-pong balls either. They wander off into the store and he goes back to yelling at Horatio for being such a fuckup.

8:45 - I've just spotted a suitcase and my head is brimming with ideas.

8:48 - Manny passes by the shoe aisle. One of those jackass kids is towards the back giving furtive glances around the store, but he can't see the others. Somethings up with them. Fucking assholes.

8:53 - LaRonda is doing her weekly shopping. She doesn't mind it. It gives her a chance to get away from the house and the kids, and most of all Gregory. He's not a bad guy, but it was a mistake marrying him after Pierre died. She likes to take this time to think, reflect on the art career she was forced to abandon so suddenly. She's considering getting back into it. As she reaches into the freezer to grab a gallon of ice cream she thinks about what she would paint if she were to start painting again. A duck maybe? She'd always liked ducks. Her thoughts are interrupted by an unexpected hissing sound, followed by a cackling laugh. She glances around, but the only other people near her are two teenage boys lugging a suitcase around for some reason.

"Fools!" shouts the suitcase as she stares at it, "You know not with whom you interfere! Release me now or suffer my curse."

Walmart... Fucking Walmart. LaRonda decides that next time she'll go to target.

9:00 - Back in the shoe aisle I fall out the suitcase giggling. "How many did we get? Five? Alright. Gimme a minute to breathe, then I'll get back in and we can head to the front of the store where there'll be more people."

9:03 - Manny watches from behind a clothing rack as the boys from earlier drag a suitcase towards the front of the store. They're still looking around suspiciously. He begins to approach them.

9:03 - "Shit shit shit!" the suitcase whisper screams. "Back to the shoe aisle! It's the manager, we have to go!" but Sylar knows there's no time. They'll have to duck into whatever hidden space is closest.

9:04 - Manny is on his radio: "Yeah, three teenage boys, high school age, wearing shorts."

9:05 - Ricky is pulling into the parking lot when a sudden commotion begins at the front of the store. Pyronius, Sylar, and Kevin come sprinting out with the manager hot in pursuit yelling for them to stop. The cop parked outside the store turns on his lights and peels out after them. Ricky parks his car and lights a cigarette to watch the show.

9:05.5 - Halfway back to the car we realize the lights behind us aren't just some jackass speeding through the lot. "Oh fuck guys, stop. It's the cops."

9:05.75 - Why do they run? Why do they always run? Thinks officer Gargantious as jumps out of his car. "Hands up motherfuckers!" he yells. He likes that word. It's his favorite word. He's always been a big fan of Samuel L. Jackson. "Get your motherfucking hands on the motherfucking car!" Big fan. One of the boys hesitates, he seems confused.

9:06 - Ricky smiles as the cop reaches to his hip and pulls out a crackling taser. The blue sparks light up the terror on Pyronius' face.

9:06 - "Now what the fuck do you motherfuckers think you were doing? I got a call 'bout three motherfuckers in shorts, and here you come sprintin' out like the devil himself was after you. Well boys, as far as you're concerned, I AM THE DEVIL." He pulls out his radio.

9:06.5 - I can't hear the other side of the conversation, just officer Gargantious. "Yeah, I got em. Three boys in shorts right? Yep. No. Not that I see. No. Oh? Ok, that's it? Yeah, what's in it? Alright, hang on." He turns back to us and raises the sparking taser towards each of our faces in turn. "Alright boys. Now, I've been told you stole a whole damn suitcase full of liquor. Only, the thing is, they found the suitcase, but no liquor. So I'm gonna ask you once and only once. What was in the suitcase?"

I raise my hand

This happened yesterday morning but 24 hours have not yet passed since what happened and technically it's still a today i fucked up. I was thinking of using a throwaway account but hey fuck it. English no very best, be kind ;D

So I am in the last semester at my university, and I am required to present a Senior Project that has something to do with coding and programming. Now you are encouraged to choose something that no one has picked before to be more or less unique. Most of the projects done by other students is either a website with a database, or a mobile app for iOS or android. Me being a gamer for most of my life now and specially since I used to play a lot of Counter Strike 1.6, I presented the idea to make an achievement system for that game. My adviser was reluctant at first but then accepted the idea. I was so happy. Just so you know, I was making an AmxModX plugin for Counter Strike 1.6 servers that will have a full achievement system working with in game registrations, logins, logouts, the actual achievement tracking along with a bootstrap website (that I created from scratch - no templates used at all) and of course a database to store all this data. Passwords are all hashed with a randomly generated salt, and all that other nonsense to make it secure.

Then yesterday happened, I arrived to present the project in front of a committee (3 people). The presentation would go as follows: give committee the report, present your project via ppt presentation (what is it? Why? issues? ...) then show a live demo of the finished project. All goes well and as planned, demo is finished. Now just to explain a small thing before saying what happened next. If you have ever played Counter Strike 1.6 before, you know that your objective is to kill the enemy team with weapons and what not or planting/defusing the bomb. Now in my demo, I wanted to show earning an achievement in action. I showed 3 achievements in action. The first "kill 25 enemies", the second "knife an enemy", and the last "deal total of 1000 damage to enemy". Why did I choose these three to show? Well they are the ones that take the fastest time to achieve and show them how an achievement is earned. I did just that.

I finished and stood up (after finishing the demo) thinking I nailed the fuck out of this shit. Was so happy. Then nightmare happens. One of the committee says something along the line of: "OMG all this killing, I can't accept this, there is too much violence, I can't show your project to anyone, this is unacceptable". I stand there thinking in my mind: "is this for real? it's just a game". An argument comes to life and we start talking back and forth. I start saying stuff like "This is just a game, no actual violence is taking place" "90% of all popular games that our generation plays involves killing or some sort of violence" "I have played this game for over 10 years, am I any violent?", and she says stuff along the line of "you are killing people, blood is everywhere, you even used a knife", I swear and I kid you not she mentioned ISIS in a way but can't remember how she got around to mentioning ISIS. Fellow students in the back (the ones that must present their projects after me, are sitting in the back of the room, watching) start defending me and assuring them that it's just a game. She says, in her high and firm voice, "Stop it! I don't want to hear it anymore, this is unacceptable" then she leaves the room. Remember, she is the one in charge in the committee, the other members are just there to help her rate the project or something and give their opinion.

My adviser takes me to the side and talks to me. After we are done, I was still in shock. Now I must either get an I (Incomplete) on my project and make an entire new project for next semester and fail to graduate, or get an F for whatever reason. Still waiting to hear from her.

TL:DR Created an achievement system with a website and a database for Counter Strike 1.6 as part of my senior project presentation at university, committee is horrified of all the blood and violence from the demo and I might end up not graduating this semester because of it

EDIT: some more information that came to light today: Before going over what happened today, yesterday when the women who started saying all that nonsense about violence, she also said something about the university's creditation, something along that the university will present to someone or some group what it's students have accomplished and what not, so she can't show my project to them (at least thats what i think it is) Now this morning I have talked to my adviser and she asked whether I can change all the shooting and violence to something else. I sent her an email telling her I can change the gameplay to paintball for example or a snowball fight and that would the violence away. Still waiting for her reply. If it doesn't work out im surely going to talk to someone higher up in the university.

Thank you so much for encouraging comments below, you all have good points.

EDIT2: alright so I talked to my adviser and she said it could work and I might end up graduating this semester after all. I might change the Counter Strike gameplay to snowball war or paintball, so in her mind I am changing a violent game to a more peaceful one by eliminating the guns and knives. Thank god all worked out well, at least I hope it will.

TL;DR : My cat had an accident in his carrier and I didn't check to make sure all the poop was off his butt before trying to give him a bath. Got poop in my bathtub TWO TIMES.

Today I got back from a week long vacation in another part of the world. My two cats stayed with a relative while I was gone, and after being picked up from the airport I stopped and picked up my babies.

Yesterday I texted said relative and asked him not to feed the cats after a certain time because there's a 40 minute drive between our places. One of my cats gets carsick. I didn't want to risk any accidents either.

Welp, relative didn't follow instructions. So while I had no puke to deal with, I did have a shitty cat and cat carrier to clean up. Joy. Whatever. I get home as soon as possible and take the cats upstairs. My grumpy old lady is clean, so she gets freed. My long haired little boy is the shit monster, so I set his carrier on the kitchen title and go start filling the bathtub. I make sure there is nothing in the bathroom that I want to risk getting poop on, while having cat shampoo, a clean towel, and a cup to help the rinsing process available.

His carrier isn't the best. It's a soft mesh one with a fuzzy liner in it, and a bit on the small side. I've been planning on replacing it.

...I go to the kitchen to get him to find out he managed to TIP HIMSELF OVER. Shit is now encrusted on the top of the carrier and all over his back. I also have shit prints on my kitchen floor.

Fuck up number one.

I clean that mess up and get the cat and the carrier in the bathroom. The idea is to shake any poop off of him and keep it in the carrier. There's a log on my poor boy's back and as I carefully set him free I shake it off him and stick him in the water.

Fuck up number two.

You know when sea animals shit in the water and this murky brown cloud of filth just explodes everywhere?

Yep, you guessed it.

So I have a howling cat half in the water as the Poopening occurs. He's got it all around his butt. Poop is floating everywhere. I'm completely at a loss of what to do. I don't even speak. Cat is unhappy. I'm in shock. THERE IS POOP FLOATING IN MY TUB AND IT'S MY FAULT.

I let cat go. Cat promptly gets out of the tub and gets poopwater everywhere. I stare at my tub full of cat shit and wonder wtf am I going to do.

...so I drained the tub. While making a mental checklist to buy a giant jug of Draino I use the rinse cup to encourage as much of the mess to go down the drain as possible. All that's left is a giant plop. I use toilet paper to get it out and flush it. While the cat is sitting on the toilet seat getting poopwater on it I grab bathroom cleaner and the only available washcloth to sanitize the tub.

(I figure that I can just bleach the hell out of everything once he's clean. I do not want him ingesting his own shit and getting sick.)

Okay. Clean tub! Let's try this again.

Proud of myself for not freaking out as badly as I could have, I get the tub full of clean water and proceed to put my cat in the water again.

Fuck up number three.

I failed to check his butt to make sure that he was as poop free as he could possibly be. SO ONCE AGAIN I HAVE SHIT FLOATING EVERYWHERE. There's no giant plop to deal with. No, oh no. It's just little bits and pieces, like I've got the world's biggest shit globe.

Cat is freaking out. I've got him half in the water AGAIN and I'm just on my knees staring at this shitstorm wondering how the hell I even managed to live for 30 years without killing myself from my sheer stupidity.

But I've got to get the shit off him and I've got to get him cleaned up. Period. I scramble to think while juggling a mostly wet yowling animal who does NOT want to be standing in his own shit water, thank you.

I will have to drain the tub again. Duh. But I did NOT want to repeat my earlier mistake. I don't want to put my hands in shitty water. I don't want to put my cat in shitty water. But if the shit is still clinging to him I'm not going to get him clean.

I have no more washcloths, or even a pair of rubber gloves available. (Another fuck up.)

...so in he goes. I get the crap off of him. I drain the tub. I rinse the tub out and rinse the cat until the poor thing looks like a drenched rat. But when I fill the tub up for the THIRD time (while still holding a cat who is most certainly plotting to kill me in my sleep) the water is clean.

THANK BOB.

I then proceed to give my poor cat the shampooing of a lifetime. He protests the butt wash. I make him deal. Once he's clean and rinsed off I don't even let him free in the bathroom. I wrap him up in a towel and take him out, drying him off the best I can before letting him sulk off to repair his dignity.

And now? I'm off to bleach my bathroom before drinking copious amounts of alcohol. As for the carrier...it didn't survive the Poopening. I'm trashing it. There's no way in HELL I'm trying to clean shit off mesh.

NB: This is a throwaway because I don't want to drag names into this as my regular handle on reddit will lead to my name.

TLDR: Was in line for a University job but my GF insisted that I do something to make money. I did and broke my back, ruptured a disc and dislocated my hip in the process. 8 years later I'm all but destitute with no way out.

So, this was 8 years ago. I was unemployed but looking for work. 1 month prior to my fuck up I had taken several job tests for a local university. My GF was getting impatient with me not working and demanded that I do something to make some money. I called my dad and he said he could pay me to help him remove an old furnace from a basement. We get there and the furnace is at least 65 years old and has a cast iron heat exchange in it. Heavy as hell. We disconnect it and put it on the dolly for the trip up the stairs and out into his truck. I get on the top to pull the dolly up the stairs while he pushes from underneath. 3rd step from the top and it gets stuck. I hunker down and put my weight into it to get it over the step. It's at this point that my back says, Ha ha, fuck you!" and decides to break and rupture a disc. I hit the floor with half the furnace and dolly on top of me. That crash causes my hip to dislocate at the Left SI joint. Here we are stuck with me underneath a 3-400lb furnace and my dad holding it up to keep it from falling on him. I manage to wriggle out from underneath the mess and with no one else around to help, I pick the dolly up and we manage to get it up the last 3 stairs with me continuing to pull on it. At this point I tell my dad that something is really wrong with my back because I felt the crack and was now starting to feel some pain. From the crash to getting to the top of the stairs was less than two minutes. He says ok and asks me to help him get it into his truck and he'll take me home. So, we man handle this thing into the back of his truck and he takes me home.

Now, I didn't know the extents of my injuries at this point and thought that I had just strained a muscle. A week goes by of me in bed and a hell of a lot of pain and I end up going to the emergency room because I can't take it anymore. CAT scan shows broken vertebrae at the pars and a completely ruptured disc at L4/L5. It would be 6 more years before someone diagnosed the dislocated hip. 2 weeks after this accident the university calls to let me know I have a job as a janitor. Nope, sorry, I can barely walk.

It takes another 2 and a half years of treatment and diagnosing before I get my fusion surgery. During this time my GF is getting upset and pissed off because I can't work, was denied disability and it was taking too long for me to get the surgery. So 2 months prior to the surgery she kicks me out.

Here I am in a lot of pain, can barely walk and use a cane and wheelchair to get around and now I'm living in a homeless shelter. The first one I go to has a 2 week policy, so after 2 weeks I'm shuffled to a different town and homeless shelter that has a 1 month policy. I explain my situation to them and they let me stay the additional 2 weeks until my surgery date. But, because they're not equipped to handle what special needs I'd have after surgery, they wouldn't take me back. Knowing this, I befriend some people who have jobs and are about to start renting their own place and ask them if they'd put me up after the surgery and they agree.

Surgery and recovery goes well until about 2 weeks into physical therapy when the pain starts coming back. The Dr suspends PT and has me start additional testing. The people I live with start getting hostile towards me about not working and me being denied disability again. It's at this point that my brother, who lived in a different state, steps in and says he'll take me in. After visiting him over a weekend, I come back to get my stuff from where I was living and they tell me I can't have it. When I tried to get my computer the guy's brother puts me in a headlock and starts beating the shit out of me. He was punching me so hard that he drove one of my I-teeth through my face about half an inch above my upper lip.

Needless to say, I got out of there and without anything. My clothes, computer and furniture that I went through the trouble of getting back from my ex-GF,gone. I did manage to get my picture albums and a couple other items of sentimental value eventually.

My life did get better. I did finally manage to get on disability 5 years ago. With my back pay I bought a new computer. It was a bargain bin build-it-yourself, but it was great for the time. I also moved out on my own. I can now get around without the wheelchair except for long stints of being on my feet. The pain is coming on much stronger now and I'm in PT again to try to fix that, but it's a real rough go. My most recent X-rays show degenerative disc disease in my lumbar and thoracic spine. It's been 2 years since my hip was diagnosed as being dislocated and it's finally staying in place after several adjustments and me wearing an elastic band around my hips to keep it there.

As to my claim of being all but destitute.... I've been trying for almost 2 years to save up money to buy new parts to upgrade my computer. So far, I've managed to upgrade the power supply and that allowed me to upgrade to a video card that was only 3 years old(Radeon HD7970) at the time. I had to upgrade that when I did because my old one was having overheating problems. Since that upgrade, I've not been able to save up enough to buy anything because my bills have increased and my pay has not. I did make a campaign on a popular personal crowdfunding site a year and a half ago and so far that has got me a total of $10 of the $3000 I'm wanting. The reason I want that much is because I'd really love to have VR. I can't get out and do the things I used to love doing. I used to be an avid outdoorsman and flew ultralights. Now I can't even go shopping for more than 20 minutes without needing to sit in a wheelchair because of the pain.

I worked it out a few days ago that after all my bills are taken care of (rent, utilities, internet, phone, car insurance and medical copays and that's it) I have $5,656 a year for groceries and sundries. So, yeah, I'm very broke.

How do I get through all this? Meds. Morphine twice a day plus nerve pills and anti-depressants.

I thank you for reading all this! It feels good to get all this off my chest. I hope it helps brighten your day knowing at least someone is having a worse one. :-)

Cheers!

Edit: Thanks for all the well wishes! It really helps!

Edit 2: For those wanting some proof, my back after the surgery and an MRI report 4 months after the surgery. http://imgur.com/a/qX5uf

For those wondering why my parent(s) didn't take me in. My father is a raging alcoholic and can barely keep his own shit straight. I do live near my mother now, but she lives in a small trailer on a large farm with her husband and my autistic youngest brother.

Happened about a year ago, I still cringe and hide when I think about it. Fuck it. It's a fuck up.

Last year I had recently got into construction and being young, I wasn't that good at it (obviously due to experience). I started off working in demolition and was doing alright, breaking down walls, taking out insulation, smashing doors down etc etc. At the same time I was also singing and looking for ways to improve. I wanted to pay for some lessons and since demolition was paying me pretty good, I thought I'd find a really good teacher. I found a lady who was teaching lessons at her house. Granted, she was expensive, but I thought she was a good fit.

A month into the lessons she tells me she can't do the lessons at her house because there is a leak in the roof, which got into the insulation inside the ceilings upstairs. Because it was an old house, this was causing mold and needed immediate attention. She kept rescheduling and telling me how much of a headache it was. I really didn't mind too much about the rescheduling, I wasn't in a rush anyways.

She called me a week after and had an interesting offer. She knew I did demolition work so she asked if we could do a trade: I help her demo the upstairs, she gives me lessons in return (my demo rate equivalent to her teaching rate). I stopped her right away and let her know that I don't have much experience with demo and that if things were to go wrong, I didn't want to be held responsible. She assured me this was an easy task and she would be right there directing me. After much convincing, I took the offer. Stupid mistake.

When I got there I could smell how bad the mold problem was. I brought a face mask so I wouldn't inhale anything and got straight to work. I busted the top ceilings of the rooms and took out all the wet insulation. Luckily, the walls didn't need to be taken out because the water didn't seep in, so the only focus was the ceilings.

Few days passes by and she hires some kids to help me to do some labour work. I was now in charge of about 4-5 people, making me feel like a true worker of my field. Everyday I was killing it, getting so much work done, directing others; she was happy and kept telling me how great I was doing. The last day came, and what do you know, a HUGE fuck up would come along with it.

The ceilings were empty since the insulation was taken out in all rooms in the upstairs. From downstairs she yelled my name and when I came down, she threw me a water hose.

"What's this for?"

"Clean the ceilings, use some soap as well. I'll be back in a couple hours, I'm going to dump all the garbage to a yard."

At the time I didn't think much of it because I was doing something else. When it came down to do what she asked for, it didn't make sense. Why hose down a house? Wouldn't water get in? We're fighting a water problem right now, that doesn't make sense. I asked one of my workers and he said we should call her, I agreed.

"Hey just a question, are you sure you want me to spray the ceiling upstairs? Wouldn't water get in?"

"You need to clean the ceiling, there might still be mold."

"But what if water gets in the walls?"

"What?...No don't worry. That wouldn't happen haha."

Guess I'm hosing down the house. I sprayed the hose once and it blasted, the jet spray setting was on, way too strong. I changed the setting to sprinkle and started watering down the house. When I looked down there was puddles on the floor messing up the wood, when I looked at the walls there was bubbles popping out of the drywalls on some parts. I stopped and got concerned. At the same time I was getting the workers to mop the floors from the water quickly to prevent damage.

She came about an hour after, mind you this was the last hour of this 7 day job that I did so well in and her eyes were wide open. She realized I just watered down her whole upstairs. She screamed in panic

"WHY DID YOU DO THIS?"

"I thought this is what you told me to do?"

"I MEANT PUT WATER IN THE BUCKET, PUT SOAP IN THE BUCKET, AND USE THE CLOTHS TO CLEAN THE CEILING, NOT HOSE THE HOUSE DOWN."

She then had a huge mental breakdown, started balling her eyes out profusely and ran downstairs. The stress was so high she started getting a nose bleed. The workers there all looked at me like "wow, you fucked up". When she went downstairs she screamed again. Water leaked all the way down to her basement. I sat there silent, heart beating fast knowing now that I may have cost this woman thousands in damages. I helped her finish the night and quickly got the fuck out of there. Even though I worked a total of 7 days straight, i couldn't go back to face her, so I basically worked those days for free. Haven't talked to her since. Talk about a fuck up.

TL;DR: Singing teacher asked me to help her fix her house. Ended up destroying it.

EDIT: These are some of the pics. First pic, the ceiling was a light light brown before it got hosed down. You can see how dark it is. On the second pic if you look close, you can see a bubble in the wall where the water got in.

Room one: http://imgur.com/n2L9b6S Room two: http://imgur.com/0jCR3qX

Obligatory "This happened 13-14 years ago intro."

I was about 9-10 years old and had just gone away for the weekend for my first youth group retreat. Two points that are important... I have always been a big kid/guy, and I have a shy bowel making it hard to use a bathroom anywhere that there are a lot of people.

We get on the road for a 4-5 hour trip to our destination, a group of large cabin-style buildings on a lake. It was quickly discovered by my bunk-mates and leaders that the door to the bathroom on our cabin of about a dozen boys/leaders didn't lock. When I heard this I wasn't too concerned seeing as most bathrooms are somewhat small and have the toilet near the door so I figured I could just push the door closed if anyone tried to enter (and lets face it, a bunch of elementary school boys are going to think it's hilarious to barge in on someone using the bathroom, and I saw it happen to someone else with my own eyes within the first hour of settling in). The bathroom was set up in a way that the door was aligned with the walkway between the rows of bunks.

I was quickly horrified to find out, when I finally looked inside, to see that this was not a normal bathroom. It was unusually large and the toilet was several steps in, straight in from the door with no inside coverage should someone decide to barge in. I told myself I could make it the 4 days/3 nights until we went home without using the bathroom to shit, planning on pissing every day in the lake during swim time.

Now here is another factor that adds to my idiotic fuckup. As I mentioned I am a big guy, and when I found out you could go back in the food line to get as many seconds, thirds, and so on as you wanted so long as there was food left I proceeded to abuse this privilege for every meal, always taking at least seconds, sometimes even thirds and once (for an amazing biscuits and gravy breakfast) fourths.

I am somewhat oddly proud of the fact that I had made it a few days without shitting, but I could feel the pressure building and eventually even letting go enough to piss was making me feel like I was about to shit at the same time. On the third day, after lunch, it was free swim time so I headed to the lake for my daily piss. It was at this moment my body decided to retaliate in full force. I was just about to start pissing in the water when I felt this excruciating pain in my gut and I just knew I had to shit. I knew that this time I was not going to be able to piss without losing full bowel control so I considered just attempting to shit in the water as well but as a young boy just starting to become interested in girls, there were way too many girls swimming around me to even really consider it.

Then (and for some reason only then and not earlier) it dawned on my young mind that during free time the cabin would undoubtedly be clear of anyone since people would be at the lake or playing other games and I decided to run back to finally shit in that shitty bathroom.

I made it to the bathroom and nervously pulled down my swim trunks and sat down, expecting it to basically come out like a cannonball from a cannon, fast and loud. But nothing happened... My gut was still having painful spasms to the point I was nearly crying, my life basically flashing before my eyes, me vowing to never go to another youth retreat after this. I realized that with all my overeating and not having had a single shit in close to 70 hours I must be incredibly backed up.

The pain was so bad in my gut that I basically forgot I had had to piss, so I hadn't tucked the little guy in (you know everyone pees when they poop) and just pushed my bowels as hard as I could. It was so large and solid that it hurt my asshole as it got stretched out, feeling like I was going to split in half. Then... immense satisfaction (as well as an intense spike of pain) as I finally successfully broke through and started letting it out... at that exact moment my free willy pissed so hard that it shot across that stupidly large floor space and hit the opposite wall, in basically a straight line with no arc, with such force that piss started spraying everywhere. I didn't care. My body was so happy to be free of that pain that I just sat on the toilet for several minutes after just recovering.

After recovering I realized what I mess I had made with the piss and I knew I had to clean it up. Queue another fuckup. I just started taking toilet paper and wiping down every surface that I even thought my piss had contaminated and then proceeded to throw the TP in the toilet on top of what was already the largest load of shit I have ever produced in my quarter of a century long life. This being a stupid, cheap, lakeside cabin toilet it obviously couldn't handle the load that was in there. When I flushed it clogged and started to overflow. Again, I panicked and fortunately I knew how to shut the water off on a toilet. But now I was having to clean up this new mess on the floor and unclog the toilet. I basically spent the entire free time dealing with this whole debacle and just at the end, as I was finishing cleaning the floor, everyone was coming back to the cabin to change out of their swim trunks/sweaty clothes into something else and someone walked in to use the bathroom, ignoring the fact that the door was closed which should indicate it was in use.

The way the toilet, door, and cabin space was all lined up a lot of people saw me on the floor scrubbing a still slightly dirty floor and everyone knew I had clogged the toilet, and they knew why it had clogged as I had been bragging (stupid ass kid brain) that I was going to hold it in for the whole trip.

tl;dr - Overate, didn't shit for almost 3 whole days, finally shit and pissed everywhere and clogged the toilet and everyone in my cabin saw me cleaning it up.

Obligatory this didn’t happen today, but about seven years ago when I was 17.

I was your typical horny as fuck teenager when I was 17. Around that time I got my first computer in my room that actually had good internet capabilities, so you know what that means. PORN. Lots of porn videos. Now I had a pretty open mind when I was horny in terms of what I wanted to watch, and I watched many things in my life I’m not proud of looking back on it. Over the course of these sessions, I was reading a porn forum looking for videos to watch and I came across a thread talking about “the male g-spot”. I was thinking “How the fuck does that work, I thought guys squirted cum anyway why would we have a g-spot?”. I then proceeded to learn how massaging the prostate could lead to stronger orgasms, and my stupid horny brain was all up for trying it out.

When reading about how to successfully massage the prostate, a lot of advice mentioned using an enema on yourself so you don’t get shit all over your fingers or whatever object you’ve shoved in your asshole. I was still of the mindset that my parents had no clue that I was masturbating, so there was no way I was going to tell them to buy me an enema, although in hindsight I could’ve just said I was constipated and needed one. Before the enema however, I tested out if I could even fit anything in my virgin butthole. I found a big jar of vaseline, laid on my bed and slathered it on my asshole and fingers, and tried to slide it in. I don’t know how many of you men and women reading this have put fingers in your ass, but that first time feeling of something going UP my butt was a weird, yet pleasurable feeling (I should mention right now I didn’t get shit on my fingers in this inaugural probing, that probably would’ve stopped me from the impending fuck up). I got my index finger up to my knuckle inside of me, and even got adventurous pretty quickly and was able to get a second finger in after a little trial and error. My horny teen mind was hooked.

I looked around my room for things I could then shove up my ass to experiment. I eventually found a toothbrush (had never been used), a plastic tube from a bubble wand that I had kept for some reason, a glass Coke bottle, and a set of nunchucks that I had bought at a garage sale when I was about 10 years old. Now the time had come to perform the enema to get my ass clean, as I had read on the forum. At this point my brain had gotten a bit more confident in what I thought I could shove in my ass, and that’s when my eyes spotted it: a 2 liter soda bottle. I’m not smart, Reddit. I sanitized the bottle, took off the plastic ring on the lid, filled it with warm water, and lubed up the top of the bottle. I luckily had some sort of sane moment during this ordeal and put down a large beach towel on my floor, in case of any water spillage. I then got naked, aimed my ass over this bottle, and started to try and fit it in.

At first, nothing. My ass had tightened up a little bit since my earlier experimentation, so I used my fingers again to get things kickstarted. I then squatted over the bottle again, and felt it slide slightly into my butthole, a weird fucking feeling. I don’t know how much of the lid of the bottle I got in my ass, but it definitely wasn’t enough to make a good seal. I reached both of my hands down, proceeded to squeeze the bottle, and felt a rush of warm water shoot up into my ass. This was a new sensation for me, and the water actually felt nice going in. I got around a 1/3 of the water in my anus, a little dripping here and there as I slid off of the bottle. I stood up, thinking about how smart I was that I had actually created a DIY enema and nothing bad had happened. This is where the fuck ups begin, my friends.

I turned around and grabbed the other towel I had brought with me into my room, to clean the little bit of wetness on my ass from the dripping earlier. I wasn’t careful about where I was walking, and knocked over the plastic bottle. I must’ve kicked it with a little more force than just tapping it, and it sent the bottle most of the way off of the towel and onto my rug and floor. Water was flowing onto the floor, dangerously close to my subwoofer that was connected to my computer speakers. I knew I was fucked if I didn’t clean this up in a hurry, so I rushed over with my towel in hand and started to clean it. Unfortunately, the way I was bent over and the rush of worry in my head to save my subwoofer from impending doom made me forget one thing: To keep clenching my bowels with the water from my enema still inside me. That’s when it happened. I bent down a little more to make sure I had gotten the last of the water soaked into the towel, and the floodgates of my ass muscles let go. First a couple solid turds came out, then an eruption of shit water blasted my rug and some of my floor. I was in shock for the first minute or so, as I was still worried about my sound system. I turned around to see the sewage blast behind me, water still dripping out of my butt a little. I gagged when I saw the turds that had fallen out but sucked it up and started picking things up in the already massacred towel. I was about halfway done cleaning the floor when the smell hit me, which made me gag even more but I pressed on, eventually cleaning it up. I knew the rug was dead, it didn’t deserve the hell I had put it through so I threw it in the trashcan behind my house. Luckily my floor was concrete, so some sanitizing was able to fix that. I threw the bottle away after, ashamed to even look at it as I threw it away. I didn’t really experiment with my asshole after this for quite some time, other than occasionally sliding a finger up there and seeing how that went. I was able to get a new rug shortly after, I needed a new one anyway luckily. Don’t use soda bottles as enemas.

tl;dr: Horny teenager, found out about prostate massaging, used a soda bottle as an enema. Blasted shit water all over my room, instant regret.

Long-time reddit lurker, first time poster. But I know y'all's affinity for horrifying spider stories, so I figured it was time to make an account and share this yarn with the world. Obligatory "this wasn't today, it was actually a few weeks ago."

My friends and I went hiking at Enchanted Rock state park in the Texas Hill Country. Seriously beautiful. If you live in Austin/San Antonio, take the time to go. The main part of the park is a 400-something foot high pink granite rock that you climb for sweeping views of the Hill Country. 10/10 would recommend, if you don't mind the heat. We climbed the main rock, scrambled our way down, and then went to climb Turkey Peak -- a much steeper, craggier granite rock right next to the main rock (technically, it's all one "monolith" that goes for like 70 miles underground).

We work our way up Turkey Peak, have a few Lonestars (the National Beer of Texas) at the top, and my friend decides we should walk on the back side of Turkey Peak. There's a creek, he says, and we can walk along the creekbed all the way back to the parking lot.

It looks like we can scramble our way down the back of Turkey Peak, so we go ahead. About halfway down, though, the scrambling stops and it's thick brush/cacti/trees, and lots of spiders/bugs. Rather than turn around, we see a clear(ish) route and go for it. Eventually, we get to the creek. Where we approach the creek, it's easy enough to access. So we go in.

On either side of the creek are huge, thick grasses. There's also this dense, composting wood/soil mixture -- apparently, prime climate for snakes. It looks like if we go through the creek, we won't have a clear route out on either side. We aren't aware of any trails anywhere near us, and the only clear line which definitely runs to the parking lot is this creek. Rather than attempt our way back up Turkey Peak, we commit to the creek.

That is where everything goes to shit.

We're sloshing through a dry/inch-deep creekbed when the water starts getting much deeper -- about a foot, with no dry section. On the water, there are tons of mosquitoes. There's no hope to turn around, because we have no idea where we entered. If we leave the creek on the right bank (the side we came in from), we're pretty sure there's no trail. And we have no clue what's on the left. So to avoid the mosquitoes - which we hoped would pass soon enough - we decide we'll run through the creek.

I'm in front. Jogging. Water's splashing to my waist with every step. And at some point, I look down. On my white shirt, I see all these little black dots. On my chest. I think it's dirt -- that I must have run into something. Then I notice the dots on my arm. I start to brush them off.

I have a healthy fear of spiders. I am not unreasonably afraid of them. But I am aware of their potential to cause harm to myself and others. As I was brushing these dots off of me, it clicked: I am covered in literally a thousand spiders. They were in my hair. On my face. On my chest. My arms. Crawling under my shirt.

My best guess is that I ran into a spider web that had an egg sac, and that the egg sac burst. Maybe there's some other explanation. But apparently egg sacs can hold 1500+ spiders, and I would not be surprised if there were that many on me.

I wonder how long they were there before I noticed. Long enough to get in my hair and under my shirt.

I dive into the mosquito-water and roll around. I'm frantically brushing every part of my body to get the web off of me. My friends are looking at me like I'm nuts. When I get up, I yell that we have to go out on the left bank. We push through the tall grass and walk through the composting dirt/wood mixture -- with every step, our feet sink 1 foot to 18 inches. My friends are worried about snakes -- I'm running on adrenaline, still swatting at my body because I have this tickling sensation everywhere. Eventually, we get to solid dirt -- and then to a trail. We walk on that trail for about 30 minutes, and it leaves us by the parking lot.

We drive to a winery and then a brewery. We look like shit, covered in dirt, soaking wet.

As if fate had it out for me, the car breaks down. Was two hours late for my dinner plans, but it was OK because I spent some quality time in the parking lot of a Valero drinking the rest of the Lone Star.

I got 4 bites. Not sure if they were from spiders or mosquitoes, but probably spiders because they took a long time to heal.

Tl;dr -- went hiking with friends. One friend really wanted to see this creekbed. Didn't object. Ran through bc mosquitoes. Burst a spider egg sac, got covered in spiders, and had a tingly feeling for a week.

Like a lot of FUs this didn't happen today, but happened about ten years ago.

Back in 2006 I had purchased another house with the goal of selling my current house and downsizing and moving into something a little more "country". This was smack-dab during the real estate collapse.

So I qualified for 2 mortgages, got rid of stuff, and moved into the new house. Everything was going great but I was having a hard time selling my current house. Also, in hindsight, I ended up paying WAY too much for the new house that I bought.

After several months I was really struggling being able to afford to pay both mortgages, and was looking for any way to increase my take home pay.

At my job we use PeopleSoft to manage our HR systems and one of the things you can do is edit your W4 online.

There was this interesting little checkbox that basically said if I didn't have to pay any income tax I could check this box and not have any income tax taken out.

This is where I really fucked up.

I mistakenly thought that since I had been getting a refund pretty much every year that I didn't have to pay any income tax. I equated me writing a check to Uncle Sam as me having to pay income tax.

By checking this box I basically told my Company not to deduct any FICA from my paycheck.

This worked for a while, and my net monthly income skyrocketed.

Oh, and did I mention that I failed to file my taxes in 2006, 2007, and 2008? Yeah. I was not a smart man.

Then in 2008 I got a notice from HR that the IRS basically told them that they needed to take out FICA and they put me down for single, and zero exemptions. This cut my monthly income in half and I was right back not being able to afford both mortgages.

So I tried to work with the bank to refinance my mortgage (I was bottom-up at this point in home value) but they refused to work with me, so I basically told them to fuck off and I stopped paying my mortgage.

On January 1, 2009, I moved back into my old house (I had never missed a payment on that one - it was also a much cheaper monthly mortgage payment than my new house), and mailed the keys to the bank.

Everything was going fine then on February 14, 2009 I noticed I had no money in my checking account.

Oh yeah, did I mention my payroll direct deposit and my checking account and my credit card, my car loan, and both mortgages were all at the same financial institution?

The bank had cancelled my credit card, and wiped out my checking account to pay for the mortgage that I was now in default on. My home equity line of credit on my first house (that I never missed a payment) was also frozen. Fortunately they didn't start foreclosure proceedings on my first house or try to repo my car (again never missed payments on either of those either).

So I cashed out my CDs and opened an account with a credit union up the road and switched everything over for my payroll to be deposited there.

Then fast forward to 2012. I get an Email from HR on a Monday saying that as of my next paycheck I would only be taking home about $400.00 for the month going forward (that didn't even cover my mortgage payment). The IRS was garnishing my wages, and they were garnishing my wages due to back taxes, interest, and penalties.

Sure I had been getting lots of letters from the IRS over the years, but I was too scared to open any of them up. I just figured that I knew I owed them money, that they'd just grab whatever refund I was owed and eventually things would work itself out.

So that day I went to the local IRS office, in person, which was about 2 miles from my office, and I was nervous as fuck.

When I finally got to speak with somebody she was very nice and very understanding. But she also told me I owed them almost $30,000 in back taxes, interest, and penalties, and that the only way my wages wouldn't be garnished is if I paid them their money, or set up a payment plan right there on the spot.

And since the IRS normally wouldn't do a payment plan for more than $25,000 she had to get special approvals and shit.

So we set up a payment plan where I'd pay the IRS $650.00 a month for several years, and each month I went to the IRS office in person and wrote them a check. Towards the end though I did use their electronic funds transfer program.

But everything is square right now. I actually got a refund last year from the IRS.

What have I learned?

TL;DR: Never buy another house until you've got a buyer lined up for your current one.

And don't ever — ever — fuck with the IRS.

So this happened about a week ago, but it is a great story nonetheless.

Some background info. I am in highschool and my junior year just finished up, so over my summer vacations from school I work at a Chip N' Putt Golf Course not too far from my house. It is a pretty relaxing job; I take peoples money for the use of the greens or rent out golf carts, clubs, etc. Now in the little shack where I work, there is only a register, no credit card machine. Of course in 2016 and a lot of people do not carry cash any more, so I have to run their credit/debit cards up in the main office which is about a minute drive on a golf cart, This is usually never a problem, but sometimes all the carts are rented out so I have to run back and forth (I am a teenager. I am lazy).

It was a pretty normal Pennsylvania summer day, clear skies, and 80 degrees. I got stuck working both shifts (8am to 8pm), but I did not mind, I'm in high school and I want the money. Sometimes when the flow of customers is really slow at the end of my shift I'll leave around 7-7:30pm. Since it was a weekday this place was not too busy and no customers had come for about an hour. I was tired and it was 7 so I thought I'd start closing up shop. I had just finished locking up all the golf carts when a family of 6 came strolling down from the parking lot. You could hear them from a mile away as they broke the complete silence since I was the only person on the golf course except for the birds and squirrels. I went back to the register and they strolled up saying they'd like to play golf. I asked how many of them were playing and it took 5 minutes for them to decide whether or not they were all going to play and finally they said all of them so I punched that into my calculator. They then said they needed to rent clubs, buy balls, get tees, and be shown how to hit the ball. So I grabbed all of their necessities, while they kept making vulgar jokes, I was getting kinda uncomfortable because they thought it was weird I was not laughing at their jokes. I enjoy dry witty humor not too much vulgarity unless its like Bo Burnham, who is clever with his use of it.

I got them all their belongings and the lady handed me her credit card. I grabbed it and ran to the office, ran up their bill, and ran back. I got them started and showed them how to swing, while they criticized everything I did/said. It was weird.

Since it was already 7:15 and we close at 8 and they never played golf before I knew I was going to be stuck their until late waiting for them to return their rentals because I'm not going to be an asshole/I am kinda scared of them and make them return their stuff only 45 mins into their game. But then, what i thought was a gift from God came. A thunder and hail storm started and forced the family to stop playing and take refuge under the roof of my shack. The lady lividly demanded a refund and after I collected all of their equipment I took the lady's credit card and prepared myself to run through the hail to run a return on her card in the office.

I sprinted getting pelted and soaked, but made it to the office in one piece. I ran the return gleefully as I was going to be able to go home earlier than expected. As I was walking out of the office I went to close the door and as it closed it accidently closed on the hand the lady's credit card was in. The card flew out of my hand and I watched it slide into the slot of the steel radiator by the door. I died inside, knowing there was no fucking way I was going to get this card out, and how the fuck I was going to explain this to crazy rude family.

While I was suffering from my quarterlife crisis, I looked around franitically for something I could use to get this card out. I have a keychain flashlight on my car keys and I spotted a ruler and some duct tape. After spotting the card in the radiator with the help of my flashlight. I put a piece of tape on the edge of the ruler and slide into the radiator to retrieve the card. After about 20 attempts the card finally stuck and I got it out. I sprinted back to the shack and returned the card and reciept to the lady, while they belittled me for taking so long. As soon as they left I got in my car, drove home, and curled into my bed and laid in fetal position staring at my wall.

(Edit)TL;DR: Lost scary lady's credit card in a steel radiator, Had panic attack, spent 10 minutes fishing it out with a ruler with tape on the end of it.

(Edit): Made story into paragraphs, too hard for some people to read on a screen all together without their reading guides :)

Alright, so this technically happened during the end of my freshmen year of college, around spring of 2013. Moving on...

I was a film student, and one of our classes was a video editing/making class. Our computer lab was being used by every film student that night to edit their final projects since it was sunday night and the next morning would be the start of finals week (our project critique/turn in day). No one would sleep that night.

It was around 3 or 4 am, my boyfriend of many years kindly brought us snacks to keep us from attempting death by iMac impalement or keyboard through the skull. He's a huge dude, 6'4" and works out 5 days a week, solid as a goddamn moose that plays football on the side.

This football playing moose has an exam in a few hours and needs some shut eye, so he can't stay in the building with me any longer. I'm with friends, as he didn't want me to be in a campus building alone at night, so I tell him to go back to the dorms for some rest.

But...

...before he does, he asks me if I can defend myself should anyone come in the building (we have stray people wander in sometimes and one dude who swears he's Jim Morrison from The Doors with a comeback album after being in jail for years and that he is in fact not dead as 'the media made people believe').

I tell my moose boyfriend yeah let me show you how crazy good I am at self defense. (I'm 5'5" and 110 pounds of pure skeleton). He says alright, punch my shoulder then.

So I punch it.

He laughs. I say just watch, I'll punch you even harder the second time. He says sure, go for it and so I do.

I punch him a second time on the shoulder.

Now, let me pause and take the figurative red sharpie marker to draw out a few details like Kuzco from Emperor's New Groove. See, his shirt was made of that soft-kinda-silky material and was kinda baggy on him since his clothes always shrink given his giantness. I also did not aim properly and made my arm not go as straight as it should have. Back to the story...

As my toothpick wrist collides with the Berlin Wall of shoulders, it not only makes a weird thud, but it slips on his shirt material - downward - causing all my force to be put on my wrist and not my knuckles/hand. This pushes my wrist backward to what I thought made it sprained, but as doctors later revealed, it snapped my scaphoid bone. (The scaphoid is between your thumb area and the wrist bones, it's like a connector in laymen's terms).

In pain and not realizing I broke my hand, I shake it a bit and complain "f#$* dude, that really hurt my right hand." He asks if I'm okay and I lie, say I'm fine, go home and sleep.

I continue to edit with my right hand, broken, all night. I work through the pain. Around 6am, day breaks and I go home to grab ounces of sleep before having to head back over around 9am for them to critique my crappy video made entirely in Final Cut 7 with nothing else but modified color squares to build shapes.

I obviously wake up to terrible pain, a swollen wrist/hand, discolored to taco-shit yellow. I need something to stabilize it but I don't have time to make a splint, and on the way to the video lab building there is the campus clinic/pharmacy. Hoping they'll have gauze or something to purchase, I walk there as I cry, holding my wrist. They have nothing for me. Welp, continue to class. I'm late, my professor still docks me points for being late. I sit through the class with a t-shirt of ice cubes seated under my wrist.

I walk around for 3 days before deciding this isn't a sprain, and go to the doc. In the meantime, I had made a splint out of soymilk and juice box straws, duct tape, and an arm warmer. The doctors had a great laugh over my creation. At least that's one of us.

In fear of being asked a bunch of "those" questions, I tell the docs I tripped over a step and slammed my hand against a brick wall instead of, you know, I punched a guy and now I suffer.

They bring in a doc to talk one on one with me, asking if my home life is okay, do I ever feel threatened or scared, etc etc.

I cry at the bus stop waiting to go back to campus while a homeless dude sleeps on the bench.

FASTFORWARD ABOUT A MONTH

My grandmother's sister in law passes away, we are at a funeral. Up until this point, I didn't know how to tell my mom how I broke my hand. I've got pretty bad anxiety so doing everything takes me days of preparation mentally. This? Oh, this shit took weeks to muster up to say to her.

We're at this funeral and she's crying and all that, but she's mostly sad that her mom is sad. So I figure well, she's already upset, how could I make it any worse?

As the funeral proceeds and the family members take turns speaking about her, I lean over to my mom and whisper "so, uh, I have something to tell you." Tearfully, she asks me what, and I explain how I actually broke my wrist, how I punched my boyfriend per request and challenge (please keep in mind my mom is a tough tomboy of a lady, she punched a kid when she was 8 or 9 for making fun of her friend and he grew up to be a priest because that punch changed his whole perspective on life, moving on...)

She stops crying. She twists her head over to me like a freaking owl on the prowl. I have never felt more fear from one stare than at that moment.

The entire summer, may through late august, in a cast. I worked at a retail store, folding clothes. The velcro from my cast would catch on them and I'd have to do it over.

All because my boyfriend brought us poptarts and juice and I wanted to prove I was hardcore.

TL;DR Punched my boyfriend to prove I could defend myself, lied to family and docs about it. Told them the truth during a funeral. Suffered.

EDIT 1: Yep, we are still together. It'll be 6 years next January (currently: July). And no, my mother didn't beat the crap outta me, sorry if I wasn't clear enough. I meant for it to read off as she's a tough as nails lady and can give you the fear of death and as if you dishonored your cow with one look. Should have made that clearer, sorry! It's what I get for writing it at 3am. And yes, I have a high pain limit, or maybe just willpower. Last spring I had food poisoning and held the need to throw up for hours until my project presentation was completed. TMYK.

Technically, last night IFU, but you get the point.

I was a bit hungover yesterday evening...a little too much fun in the sun with some friends on the beach earlier in the day. Usually in that state, all I want is to eat something deliciously greasy, whilst binge watching a show on Netflix, and lamenting the fact that, at age 30, hangovers are starting to last two days. So I grabbed my mobile and used an online ordering app to order a pizza for carryout from a local place.

I checked the confirmation notification for the address, as I'd never been to this particular restaurant before, and that's when I noticed my first fuck up. I must have sausage-fingered the buttons when selecting the location, because I had accidentally chosen a restaurant across town instead of the location closer to my apartment. Not a big deal under normal circumstances, but this particular restaurant was located on a street that's notorious for crime in my city...mostly drugs and prostitution, but occasionally theft and shootings as well. I haven't lived here long, but I've spent some time in the area during daylight hours and never had a problem. Besides, I'd just be running in and out to grab a pizza.

The drive took less than 10 minutes without traffic, which was better than I expected. Aside from a homeless guy standing in the middle of the road, attempting to direct traffic for no apparent reason, nothing was setting off alarm bells. However, as soon as Siri announced we'd "Arrived!" at our destination, my hackles went up. There was a single car in the lot--a brand new silver sports car with blacked out tinted windows. It certainly looked out of place in the area, and I've never met anyone who financed their $40K automobile by delivering pizzas. Whatever. I pulled around the back of the restaurant to the other side of the parking lot to see if maybe there were more employees/customers parked on that side of the building. And honestly, to get some distance from that car--something about it unsettled me. Not a soul on the other side of the lot. I also noticed that, while the sign was illuminated, the inside of the restaurant appeared dark. Was it closed?? As I pulled into a parking space right in front of the door, my suspicions were confirmed--there was no one inside. Even stranger, I could see the order screen (basically a big flat screen TV mounted on the wall) and my name and order were on it, but everyone was gone.

At this point, I was genuinely confused. The ordering app said the place was open until 11pm, the hours posted on the door also said 11pm, but it was barely 9:30 and the lights were out. Something about this situation seemed all wrong. I shifted the car into park and cut the ignition so I could pull up some directions to get back home. This is where I fucked up again--when you turn off the ignition in my car, the doors automatically unlock. They lock again automatically when you turn the ignition and the car starts moving. Still confused about my predicament, and pissed off that I was going home without pizza, I pulled up the directions, and looked up in the rearview before reversing, out of habit.

As I looked up, I saw that the sketchy sports car had pulled up and stopped directly behind me. Fuck, is he trying to block me in? His passenger door swung open. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit! I started to wonder if I had stumbled into something I wasn't supposed to see. His passenger door closed, and he started to pull away. As I was watching him pull away, I heard footsteps in the gravel next to my car. This is where I die--right here in this parking lot. My heart was beating in my throat. I looked over to see a very scantily dressed woman peering into my passenger side window. It was at this point I realized my doors were still unlocked. She began to reach for the door handle, when I let out a yelp and floored it into reverse. She looked mildly horrified when we made eye contact as I hauled ass out of the parking lot. It wasn't until I was a few blocks away and my brain had calmed down a bit that I realized she probably wasn't some crazed murderer trying to off me in a pizza place parking lot--she was a prostitute.

I went home with no pizza, but at least I had a story to tell my boyfriend when he got home from work.

TL;DR--Went to pick up a pizza, almost inadvertently picked up a hooker.

So first, lemme start off by saying this was not today, but rather a few months ago. Next, this is my first day back in America. I'm typing this mostly as a way to help me cope with my loss and renew my focus.

So here's some backstory. I've always loved Japan. Studied the language for a while, but was never able to get my foot in the door. Sometime last year, after being tossed around from job to job, I decided to take the typical Gaijin approach - I'd just move there on a tourist visa and acquire a job when I'm there. Its done many times. So sometime in September last year, I made the move. I was officially in Japan.

And scared stiff. For weeks, I would barely do anything. I was so used to my parents overseeing everything that I just fell into shock. There were days I would sleep through and nights I would remain awake. To make matters worse, the cold weather got to me greatly - I didn't want to leave the house even if I was feeling active. Eventually I gathered my wits, started applying to jobs and managed to score a job at a daycare center. It was going great, until one day they claim to have noticed me slacking and fired me through email, only an hour after discussing when my next day would be. I was lost again. My medication started wearing down (HRT, lets not get into that) and I became so lost that my 3 month visa limit was creeping up on me. Though that was a fuck up, it wasn't where this TIFU comes from. I managed to obtain a new tourist visa without too much trouble, but the depression started settling in again. I managed to make friends and go to events, all which helped me greatly. One of these friends got me an in at the English Teaching company he worked for. Good thing too, since my second tourist visa was nearing an end, and its not possible to get a third one unless you're out of the country for at least 6 months.

Here's where the TIFU comes in play. During the interview, they took note of my visa status. I was legit, everything was fine. They had me fill out work visa forms and said everything would be fine. It wouldn't be fine. Why would it be fine?

So the way work visa forms work in Japan is that if your current visa expires while the forms are being processed, you are allowed to stay for as long as it takes to receive an answer. If it's accepted, that's great. If its not, I hear they give you a few weeks to find a ticket out of the country. Neither affected me, because I was told a few weeks later that I needed to submit my work visa forms before they could hire me. The same forms they said they would handle. Basically, I was an illegal immigrant for about two months without even knowing it. Bad? In a country that follows laws to the teeth? Yup.

They suggested I take a trip to Korea to get a new tourist visa. I knew already a third time wouldn't work, but they insisted. The immigration office at Narita airport didn't like that very much. I was honest with my intent, and they told me to go to Shinagawa immigration the following day. I figured "all right, it was all just one big misunderstanding so it will all work out well." A for Effort I suppose. I get there, and after waiting hours upon hours, they explain my options to me. Leave the country and wait a year before I can return, or file for a "special exemption" that could take more than a year. I wouldn't be able to work, and if it got declined I would be banned from the country for 5 years. I was pushing for the special exemption (since my job also suggested I do that) but eventually gave in and accepted the 1 year bit. Its formal name is "Order of Departure". A fancy, non-threatening way of saying "You broke the law, so we're banning you for a year."

I had to go back two more times after that. Second time was for an interview, to make sure I wasn't doing anything illegally here and to confirm that I'm just really fucked up. Third time was to show them my ticket out of Japan.

So now I'm back. No longer is Shibuya a 20 minute walk away, Akihabara isn't a stop on the train, and I'm not even sure where the nearest Shinto shrine is from this Connecticut suburb.

So yeah, I fucked up.

tl;dr: Went to Japan, overstayed visa due to fuckery, got kicked out

I'm trying to find the silver lining in all this. Maybe I need to hone my actual skills more. English Teaching was never what I wanted. It was just a compromise. And my medicine? Now's the time to pursue that more. It would have been difficult in Tokyo regardless. But for now, I'm just gonna drink Overwatch and play beer.

So it all started with me being on some website to hook up with some people. Nothing major, nothing too fancy. Just your regular old website to meet some folks for some late night fun. At some point I got into a conversation with this really kind but old dude. Usually not my kind of bread, but he was a nice chat so I just kept talking with him. We got as far, that he started sending me some nudes of some female friends. Just regular stuff again. Women around the 20s, good looking. They had send him those pictures voluntary and I didn't thought to much about it.

At some point though, he said "Let me test you. I'd like to know how you react". So I said, "sure, hit me" and he proceeded to send me three more pictures. First two where questionable, in a way that you couldn't really figure out too much of what was going down but the third one was as clear as a freashly cut diamond. Child pornography; and for god sake not the kind of "well, she might actually, barely be 18". No it was the, "Holy fucking Jesus Christ, this is a grade schooler" kind of shit.

And in order to proceed, I'll have to tell you a little bit about me. You know. I'm a very, very calm personality. I'm one of those freespirits, a "yeah well, let's just get a full night of sleep in between and rethink our actions; at the end of the day, we're all humans and shit happens....yeah, let's calm down everyone" - kind of guy. But not this time. I almost scat my pants, because of how fast my pulse went from chill to "jesus fuck WHAAAAA...". So I told him "Yeah, well, not reeeaaally my hunting region, I'd rather not get my ass imprisonated, how about you just don't send me THOSE pictures anymore....and I dunno man, I feel sleepy, so I'll call it a day. Good night."

Even though I could've just walked to the phone, not even a fraction of a second passed after I logged off skype (where I got to know him a little further) and I ran to the freaking phone as if my life depended on it. I called the police and elaborated what has happend. The guy (obviously) kept his cool and said, "yeah, could we send some officers your way so you can show them the pictures and stuff". Even though it was already 3 am I said, "sure thing" and half an hour later I explained all that shit a second time to the cops and showed them those pictures. They confirmed that the child was indeed "childish looking" and in no way even remotely close to adulthood. So I've put those pictures on a disk and gave it to them. They said that I should wait until they reply and keep contact with this guy. I agreed.

Couple of days later I was chatting with said guy. Let's call him Bill, for the sake of it. Bill was really eager to improve his relationship with me and I hoped to lure him somewhere so that the police could arrest his ass, I engaged in a conversation with him. As it turns out, I had the oppertunity to invite him to my place. For "stuff". And so I did. But I waited a while until I'd called the police up until I was 100% certain that he'd drive to my place. And the second I got his text. "Alright, I'm in my car, cya in 30 min", I dashed to the phone a second time, this time, feeling the call of duty, my pride and hope that the police might get his ass real soon, but mixed with a little bit of fear. "Anyways", I thought to myself, "what could go wrong now, am I right?". So I called the police, gave that guy on the other side the shortest TL;DR version of what was about to go down and he'd rather send some folks to my place ASAP so they can catch that guy without the need of me being raped. But obviously not with sirens and shit so he wouldn't know the police was coming. I told him 30 mins and Bill would arrive at my place.

Now for your disclosure. I don't live far off the nearest police station. In fact it's about 15 minutes MAX, in broad daylight. And it was middle of the night, so there was no way in hell they couldn't arrive in time and put up a trap in my flat.

"Now we wait. Any minute now and they should be here. Sure they won't arrive AFTER he arrives...there is no way" I was so nervous I couldn't pay attention on how fast or slow time was moving so i walked around in my flat for a bit. Finally the doorbell. But unfortunately, due to the arrangement of this house I live in and the architecture, I had no way of seeing what kind of car pulled in the driveway and who the fuck it might be on my doorstep, up until I open the door. So naively I opened and what did my innocent eyes lay sight upon? You guessed it. Bill. My heart stopped for what felt like an eternity. Please please, if anything or anyone is up there somehwere, don't make this happen. Fuck! I have to hold him up for another couple of minutes.

Now another piece of information, which we had discussed in advance was, that I take a shower, because of what Bill was planning to do with me. And I was supposed to do that in the meantime while he was driving from his place to mine. But I didn't because I thought, it's never gonna go this far anyways. I just got myself a towel and had only my underpants on, so that I could appear as if I did, so he'd walked in my flat and the police (which wasn't there yet) could arrest him.

"Oh hey Bill! You here?! Pretty fast. Well unfortunately I'm not quite ready yet. You know, preperations and such. Just give me like five more minutes and we can get started."

"WHAT THE FUCK?! I had driven for half an hour in the middle of the night, even though I have to work tomorrow and my son is alone at home and you want me to wait for another five minutes in the middle of the fucking rain? No, fuck off dude."

"Well you're not actually standing in the rain, you're inside the building and you can wait in my living room, shouldn't take too long, I promise"

"No fuck you, man!"

He left, cursing. And for all of you sick fucks who'd expected him to actually rape me, right there, right then. What the fuck.

Anyways. He left and I was standing there. "Oh fuck man, why the fuck is the police not here yet and now he knows my name, my face, my address. FUCK". I called back the police and told them, that he's about to drive off. And for god knows why I got into a small argument with the officer because "I should've told them earlier, I couldn't expect the police to be at my place in thirty minutes and he wasn't able to contact anyone for some time who was close to my place to get to me right away." But how the fuck should I've known that he wasn't able to contact anyone right away. I'm just a pleb and even though an experianced officer might had done a few things different here and there, how was I supposed to know. I'll admit in retroperspect that I might could've handled the situation better at some point, but again. I'm not a pro.

The police arrived and now for another time I tell the officers what has had happend so far and so on. I was chatting with the upset Bill and trying to persuade him into coming back, now that the officers had arrived. Too late though. I couldn't bring him to turn around. He was gone and Bill now has every data necessary to fuck me over, rape, or whatnot.

TL;DR Hellish old and pedophile on free foot with everything he'd need to rape my ass to his liking

EDIT: Typo

EDIT 2: Thank you all for your suggestions, kind words and whatnot. One thing though. I don't understand a few comments here and there. As if they didn't read the story. One was talking about an app, which I never mentioned to use, a few are going down the story as if he'd rape me that night, but instead i'm scared that he's going to rape me in the FUTURE, since he has enough information to do that now. Anyways, thank you all.

EDIT 3: I don't really get why some people say I was trying to play police. Maybe I didn't made it clear enough that I just did what I was told. I really didn't wanted to get involved and even offered them to hand over my skype account so they can do whatever they think would be best. But some people still talk about me wanting to pull a Chris Handson or be a hobby detective. I never ever wanted that, nor tried.

Alright, here 'goes:

Today I started writing an overdue paper for English to bolster my grade for the end of the year. I decided to write the paper on assisted suicide, being the touchy-yet-important subject that it is. So naturally I hopped on Google to start finding articles on the ethics and whatnot and; on a whim, looked at the related images. I guess Google figured assisted suicide and suicide were the same thing, so I got a few "edgy" results. One of the pictures was a chubby kid with a bag over his head, which with my fucked up sense of humor I found funny. Being the dumbass I am, I thought it'd be a good reaction photo to send to friends when I receive cringe-related stuff... So I downloaded it. But what I didn't realize was that I was on a Chromebook, which conveniently decides to use your Google Drive over actually downloading the photo. So now I had this picture of a fat kid killing himself in my official school drive account. I finally fucking realized this was a really shitty move so I got on my phone to download the image from my school drive and succinctly deleted the photo. So that was it, right? Surely that slight mishap had gone unnoticed to the lazy-ass monitors, yeah?

Wrong. So fucking wrong.

You see, we recently had a suicide at the school, so I suppose the monitors were on extra high alert for anything disconcerting passing through student systems. Anyhow, the picture managed to be flagged and was soon shown to the superintendent, who decided to -instead of just calling my parents or something- notify the GODDAMN SHERIFF and have someone come over and check on me. So there I was, in my room, finished with the day and starting to have a end of school wank when my dad bursts in and yells: "IAN THE FUCKING SHERIFF'S OFFICE JUST CALLED AND SAID THEY HAVE A DEPUTY COMING OVER WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO". Naturally, I fucking panicked and started thinking of what I could have done to get in trouble with the law. Did they catch me torrenting Space Jam? Did they see my search history and question my lurking of 4chan? What did I do?? Too late to think of that now, I guess I should start thinking of an apology. So I threw on my cat pajamas and walked to the living room where I tried to explain what I thought I had done (which was correct) before the cop arrived. Too late though, he was already at the door radioing dispatch to tell them I hadn't fucking killed myself or anything. So there I was, sitting in my living room with my parents and a policeman in my cat pajamas with a half-cocked boner trying to explain my sickeningly incriminating situation. Turns out the main reason they had sent police was that they thought the image I downloaded was one I had taken myself (Which I was a bit offended by). Don't get me wrong, I totally understand why they were concerned and all, but sending the police over at almost one in the morning to make sure I hadn't blown my fucking brains out seemed a bit much. Eventually I managed to explain myself and tensions lowered enough to start laughing it off.

Let me tell you a little something about myself though:

When I'm in a really stressful situation and start freaking out, I tend to find humor in whatever I can to keep myself from popping a blood vessel.

The deputy was talking about how he was interested in these kinds of cases, and how he had once talked some guy off a bridge, and my dumb goddamn ass decides to butt in and say: "Hey, at least you didn't have to worry about talking me out of a school shooting or something.". Yeah. I fucking made a SCHOOL SHOOTING joke to a COP in the middle of a high-stress potential suicide police response. So I guess they either understood my desperate attempt at calming the situation or simply didn't process the fucked up joke, and they chuckled a bit. At this point the cop could tell everything was fine and so he started to leave. Once he did, I quickly ran into my room and proceeded to scream into a pillow and kick myself before any conversation between my parents and I could start. So here I am, after my little tantrum, sitting in bed and deciding you guys might find this cringe shit funny. Even better, next year I'll be on suicide watch (just in case, they say) and will probably be considered a fucked up nutcase by the teachers and staff for the rest of high school.

Suffice it to say, I'm never using a school computer again, and I'm sure as hell not talking to anymore goddamn school counselors.

tl;dr Me and my fucked up sense of humor mixed with a genuine concen for a touchy issue got me a ticket to a visit from the police and suicide watch.

This didn't happen today. So basically my school has an awesome hospitality class you can take where you get real workplace training within the school. This particular day was a mothers day service which had 300+ people at the school hall for morning tea. Me and my friend weren't the best students so we were given the simple job by our teacher of transporting the dirty plates on a flat platform trolly to the other kitchen which was a five minute walk away. The first few rotations went well, however the third was when it all came crashing down, literally.

Me and my mate were pushing the trolley joking around and not paying attention when the trolley wheel hit a crack in the ground. The crack was big enough to jam the wheel causing half the plates to slide off the trolley and on to the road. Me and my friend watched in horror and disbelief as 100+ plates fall to the ground in a moment that seemed like forever. The plates loudly shattered everywhere and we were cringing so hard at what had happened. To make matters worse the plates did not belong to the school as the teacher had to hire them from a private catering company because of the number of people attending the service. Me and my friend knew we were f-ed to we started to discuss the possibilities. My friend is massive Sopranos fan and his first instinct was to start burying some of the plates in a nearby garden to in his words "get rid of the evidence". I was standing nearby panicking trying to promptly explain that burying the plates will not solve the problem and that it was the teachers fault for giving the two most incompetent people in the class such a big responsibility saying "What did she expect would happen".

After around a minute of panicking and 15 buried plates later, a girl in our class who is the "teachers pet" walked from around the corner seeing the crime scene and placing me and my friend at it. My mate let out a quiet "well we're f***ed now" before saying "Please ___, please don't tell __ just yet, we have this under control". She rolled her eyes while walking off and we both knew that she was going to tell straight away, so we had to quickly come up with a story to tell the teacher that would get us out of this mess.

After burying some more plates to try to make it look not as bad, we nervously approached the teacher and instantly knew ___ had ratted on us by the unimpressed look on her face. She looked furious with us and has been known to go off at students on occasion I still to this day do not know why we chose this story or where the explanation even came from but heres the story we went with: We basically said that we were happily and responsibly pushing the trolly along when we came across someone dressed in a pirate costume that was flamboyant, had an eyepatch and didnt seem to belong at the school. We explained that he had approached us and seemed really suss asking personal questions that were sexually explicit in nature. We said that the "pirate rapist" kicked over the plates then said "Oh no, not the plates, now you two will have to bend over and pick them up" and we stated that we didn't follow his suggestions saying we were scared and thought that he was suss and may have been pedophile.

Upon explaining this the teachers expressions went from furious to concern, confusion and then blank. She looked at us both for a second in disbelief before erupting into surprised laughter. For some reason our crazy explanation saved us from being yelled at. We still got punished and had to wash dishes for the day and stay back after school but the teacher was cool with it explaining that mistakes happen but she was not happy with us and although we made her laugh it was still completely inappropriate and needed a punishment but I think in a way our outrageous story lessoned the blow lightening up the situation. Looking back we fucked up so bad but were so lucky it worked as the inappropriate story could have made the situation a whole lot worse for us. Staying back after school and cleaning up after 300 people was not a fun punishment.

TL;DR Me and a friend knocked over 100 plates at a school hospitality service, buried some of them then made up an absurd cover up story about how a "Pirate Rapist" kicked over the plates in an attempt to get us to bend over and pick them up and told this to our teacher. The Teacher laughed but punished us anyway making us wash dishes for the rest of the day and stay back from school.

After getting out of work at around 2 am, I decided to venture out into the real world to play some Pokemon Go.

I had just reached level five, and I was so excited, I went to the first gym I could find. My Pidgeotto was mercilessly slaughtered by a Fearrow. So I popped an egg in an incubator, and decided to go long boarding until it hatched.

After a few km, I spotted another gym in the distance. As I surfed across the parking lots, I crossed a street into un-skated territory.

Now, I'm not a very good skater. I'm chubby, I smoke, I'm clumsy, I suck at balancing, and I'm not very attentive. When I encounter a large crack or other obstacle, I jump off ahead of time, catch up to the board, and jump back on, but I took a brief second to check my screen. And that's when I hit it: A big, yellow speed bump.

Not expecting it at all, I was immediately thrown off balance. My arms started flailing backwards, and in a blur I came off my board and my foot came down hard and flat on the pavement. While my foot stopped, my body kept going.

I found myself on the ground and in pain. I rolled onto my back, and felt pain jolt through my leg as my foot touched the asphalt again. I looked at it, and saw the horrifying sight I've seen in so many skate fail videos.

My foot was hanging limp at an awkward angle. I look around in a panic, and see a cop car parked 30 yards ahead. I start screaming for help, desperately hoping he can hear my pleas and help me. I turn the flashlight on my phone on, and flail it while still screaming, hoping to catch his attention.

My mind and body are numb from the shock. All I can feel is fear. I sit and try doing an amputee crab crawl to his car. My change all falls out of my pockets, but I'd pay anything for help right now.

I'm stuck in the parking lot where I'm certain I'll be waiting until morning. "Oh, duh!", I say to myself, when I remember that my phone works like a phone and y'know...calls people. People like 911, who specifically help with this kind of thing.

As I'm talking with the dispatcher, some guy rides his bike up to me, and tells me he heard me shouting and came to help. I tell him I'm on the phone with 911, and he bikes to get the cop.

The officer comes to me, and offers to call a dispatch out. As he reads it off into the radio, they inform him they already have someone on the way. He talks to me as the ambulance comes up, and tries poking holes in my story. "You were boarding? Where's the skateboard?". "Somewhere up there.", I respond, while feeling like there are more pressing issues.

The ambulance arrives, and the officer offers to put my board back in my car, and lock it up. I pull myself from the ground to the stretcher, and the EMTs place towels under my limp as a boiled ramen noodle ankle, strap me in, and send me on the most painful car ride of my life. http://imgur.com/Z5wzxtd

When we get to the hospital, I'm greeted by a friendly staff that spends a little too much time analyzing the wisdom of boarding at night.

After setting me up with painkillers, and a localized numbing agent, they take a look at what we're working with.

Initial X-Ray http://imgur.com/Pfy0Zy8

The ER Doc tells me that we're about to do something that will bring us closer together. I know what's coming, and ask her for a washcloth to squeeze as hard as I can for the moment of truth. My ankle pops back into place

Joint Re-seated http://imgur.com/J1ll6hC

They take a few more x rays, and ask for one with my foot on its right side. As I rotate my leg, it pops back out of position. This thing is fucked.

They take the above image from the side, and splint me up for the hours to come. At this point, the shock is gone and the pain is real.

I'm told that I'm waiting for a doctor, and that I'll be admitted. One of the people who stopped by for the hospital asked me to sign an HIV consent form or something. "What?!", I ask incredulously. I thought he was telling me they tested the blood they took, and I had HIV. (I was doped up)

No, no, no he explains. It means if someone gets my blood on them, they can test for HIV. I breathe a sigh of relief.

After being taken to my room in the hospital, I'm informed that the doctor will be in shortly. Younger guy, curly hair. He tells me we'll be doing surgery, putting 4 to 6 screws and a plate in my leg to hold everything together. I ended up with 10 screws and a plate.

http://imgur.com/u7LYxBV

No walking or independence for 6 to 8 weeks.

TL;DR Went skateboarding at night to catch em all, hit a speed-bump and shattered my ankle.

The fuck up actually started in August 2014, but my roommates and I were not aware of the consequences until yesterday. Our lease agreement ends August 4th, 2016. The lease agreement states

"14.2. NOTICE TO VACATE. At least sixty (60) days prior to the end of the Lease Term, Resident shall provide written notice to Landlord of Resident's intention to either (a) vacate the Premises at the end of the Lease Term, or (b) enter into a new Rental Agreement for an additional one (1) year term. If such notice is not timely given at least sixty (60) days prior to the end of the Lease Term, Resident shall vacate the Premises promptly at the end of the Lease Term, in accordance with the terms and provisions hereof."

Unfortunately, we were not aware of submitting a notice with our intent to vacate. Yesterday, we received notice to either renew our lease or vacate the house. We weren't all too worried because we all have plans of moving out and going our separate ways. The leasing agent or representative informed us that if we leave August 4th we will pay a prorated violation fee on the amount of days that we leave early of the sixty (60) day notice.

Let's do some math, we moved in and agreed to $1,150 rent + $40 pet rent monthly. The following lease came with an increase to $1,250 + $40 monthly. Their new lease offer is $1,285 + $40 monthly. The rent keeps going up and each of us have different reasons for why we cannot stay here. Year 1 we payed a total of $14,280 in rent. Year 2 saw an increase to $15,580. In addition to that, we also payed a $1,150 security deposit and a $700 non-refundable pet deposit. Add that all up and we've got a total of $31,160 all paid on time without fail.

Despite that, the consequences of the violation result in the prorated fee of $1,542 by the amount of days of the violation, in our case, 39 days. 1,542/30 = $51.40 per day * 39 days = $2,004.60

The alternative to paying the violation fee would obviously be to sign out a month to month lease of $1,542 that ends September 4th and instead pay an 8 day fee of $411.20. Basically, same price, different outcome. Here's the kicker, my two roommates are moving across the country for Grad School. In fact, one of them was already 1,381 miles into his 2,393 mile drive when we found out. We now have to pay for a month of rent we did not account for and the two them are also paying rent for their new places in Washington. That also means more bad news for me. Since they're both not going to be here and can't afford it they're not going to be able to split the additional month's worth of bills that come with this. I now go from paying a 1/4 of the bills to paying 100% of them. FUN. The electric bill is in my name and about $240+ in the hot months of August and September.

Are you ready for this? There's more. Per the lease agreement,

"4.2. MOVE-OUT. Upon vacating the Premises, Resident shall remove all personal possessions and rubbish, steam clean all floors in dwelling unit and leave the Premises in "broom clean" condition, in as good or better condition than when the Premises were originally rented by Resident."

What the fuck? Steam clean all floors? I've seen a lot of rentals where it's standard to steam the carpets even if they're visibly clean. So I have to steam clean them, provide a receipt for proof, and they're still going to "have someone" steam clean them and take it out of my deposit anyway? I also learned today, through one of the many rude people at the local leasing office, that our "Pet Rent" is simply for paying the privilege of having a pet and doesn't cover anything. That $700 non-refundable pet deposit you ask? Oh that wasn't a deposit at all. No, it was a Premium. Let's get this straight, you're telling me that the $700 were just for the two dogs to get in the door and the $40 monthly or $1000 over 25 months doesn't cover anything either? Including the floors? Well, damn.

It feels like an infomercial, but there's more. I have yet to find it in the lease agreement but the agent/representative/asshole told me that the exterior of the house must also be pressure washed. When I mentioned that since the siding is made of vinyl the pressure could crack it ,she responded "Well, use the pressure washer at a distance."

All in all, I don't know how I'm going to afford this. My plans to move across the country were also stopped dead in their tracks. I'm stuck here alone and to pay for all of this I'm selling everything. In the end, I'll have my dog, my clothes, my car, and hopefully my PS4. I've worked hard these past few years and it seems like it was for nothing. Some rental company decided to ruin my life yesterday.

If anything, Reddit I'd like you to use this as a cautionary tale. Moving out is expensive and the financial world can get complicated. I have a 720+ credit score, have never missed a payment in my life, majoring in economics and, due to being an idiot that didn't read his lease agreement, I'm stuck in an uncertain financial situation.

READ YOUR LEASE AGREEMENT.

Edit: spelling and punctuation.

TL;DR

I signed a lease agreement two years ago, didn't read it, didn't know about having to turn in a vacate to notice, steam clean the floors, pressure wash the exterior, along with all the normal expectations of turning in a rental. This simple mistake is going to cost us $2,004.60 just in rent with a conservative estimate of another $500 in bills.

Today is the 6th Anniversary of this FU, so I thought of celebrating it with this post.

Back when I was in middle school, I'd just stumbled across the wonderful game that is Capture the Flag(CTF). Me and all of my mates, we decided to tweak our schedules a bit: instead of the standard Post Tennis Gaming Session, we thought of playing this newly found activity.

As we lived in the campus of a Research Institution, we had our boundaries as to how far we could stray from our houses( wasn't a big problem though, as the campus was ~5 sq km).

Now, that meant interacting with this Group of High Schoolers( read as: Girls). Being the 11 year olds we were, we couldn't help but admire how awesome these people were (they had motorcycles of their own, sweet!). And boy, weren't they cute. There was this one girl on whom I had a super-massive crush on(still do, honestly).

Before CTF, once it was past 6:00 pm, we were usually playing indoors, so we(the HS and us) rarely crossed paths, and they had their own timings. So, even if I'd see her, I'd consider myself blessed(11 y/o syndrome, oh well). But now, times had changed. We stayed out for an hour longer, playing CTF. For a few weeks, we continued capturing flags(old tennis racquets we had), and making lots of noise. While we did that, I saw more of her around the place(it was absolutely brilliant, the sight of her walking about with the smell of Freesia in the air).

One fine day, as I walked over to our standard Neutral Zone Meeting Point, I saw her, taking a walk. My adrenaline took over, and made me run I towards her. "Hey, mycrush, would you like to play CTF with us today?", my adrenaline forced me to blurt out. She looked at me with those black eyes(damn, that was a fine moment) for a second. The second after that, she was following me to the Neutral Point(how the heck did I do that?!). I was going through some really strong adrenaline highs.

The match began. She was sorted into the opposite team, and was the Scout(the person who looks for the flag). I was a master defender, so I took my position - sitting on a small apple tree. A few minutes in, I noticed her( how could I miss her? I had developed an animal-ish instinct for that). I silently slithered down, and started to follow her.

Here's the big moment-

As I followed her, I stumbled on something(someone's rottweiler stalking it's own prey), and obviously, gave myself away. She turned around before I could register what was happening and charged towards me(under normal circumstances, this would have been the best thing ever). I instinctively grabbed with my outstretched hand to freeze her before she would me(CTF rules: if you are touched by a player of the other team, you'll stay where you are until un-frozen by someone of your own team, or, until the game ends). Now, I have a longish arm, so, I reached her first.

I was out of balance, and was tipping forward. My outstretched arm reached her left boob, and I closed my fist(not intentionally, I swear!). As I fell, I yanked her left boob down first, followed by her t-shirt. Off it came, as I crashed onto the ground. She let out the wildest What-The-Fuck I had ever heard(still is the wildest), as she stood, sans t-shirt, in-front of me. It took me a second to get off of the ground, and while I did that, I got what was the craziest boner I ever got.(she was beautiful. Not hot. Bloody hell, it was the best/worst moment of my life(more best, I guess)). My brain was getting loads and loads of data to process, and chose to ignore all of it for the one variable in plain sight.

Suddenly, I felt a smack across my left cheek. It hurt a lot. Now that my brain got some sense back, I looked around and realized that her brother(younger, but elder to me) just happened to be crossing that part of the Campus(sigh). I got slapped across my cheek again. He thought I was off my rocker, trying to do something to his sister.

I was daft, and bolted. I hadn't realized he(her brother, the guy who gave boxed my ears) was a sprinter. Well, you can imagine the rest.

Once apprehended, he led me to his house. I was still holding onto the shreds of the white t-shirt(for those wondering, her brother gave his jacket to her before leading me over to their house), and was in a daze. Ten minutes later, both the(mine and their) families were gathered in her garden(which had loads of Freesia by the way). As I was being given a dressing down from everyone, I could not stop the corners of my mouth from curving into a slight smile(or what was possible with a swollen left cheek). I was still holding her shredded t-shirt.

After I was taken home, I got a 6 month grounding for what I did. I tried my best to explain, but it was of no avail. But, at the back of my mind, I thought it wasn't too bad, considering what, erm, I witnessed.

I haven't talked to her since.

tl;dr - I touched my crush's boob, ripped her shirt off. Got grounded for half a year, and haven't talked to her since.

This was a massive fuck up two days in the making.

Preface: I am an extremely trusting person, which is probably what made all this go down. Sorry for the wall of text, but I feel its important that I put down all the details so you know how hard I am kicking myself in the ass. I thought about changing some of the details, but I want to show how stupid I was in this ordeal. I have have been single for several years, and decided to try online dating sites. I used Plenty Of Fish, but checked it every once and a while.

Story: I get a message from this girl (Thursday), and we begin chatting about stuff. We decide to meet the next day (Friday), to hang out and get to know each other. It's a 45 minute drive from where I'm at, but I decide to go ahead and do it.

We were going to meet at 10 am by this fast food joint since we wanted to play it safe and meet in public. I get there a bit earlier, just to get a feel of the area and see if she didn't show up as someone else. She gets there a little late, since she doesn't have a car, but we do our introductions and chat for a while.

We get in my car, and she tells me she needs to pick up some medication at a pharmacy. Since its down the road, I decided to go ahead and take her there. Flag 1She goes in, comes back out and tells me that the doctor changed the Rx and its a larger dosage, meaning it costs more. Being the trusting person I am, I decided to spot her the $80 needed to get the medicine. It was for her asthma, so she uses it and it my suspicions to rest. So we set off to drive around again.

She tells me that she needed to get something from her friend's (A) house that was near, we go over there. She goes in and out quick, so I thought nothing of it. We get back on the road once again.

After a while, I told her I needed to get gas and we pull up to this gas station that was near where we met. While the car gets gas, we go in to get some drinks to cool off. Being old fashioned and chivalrous, I pay for drinks and she also got a pack of smokes. FLAG 2We go outside, and she tells me she has a friend(B) that works at the hotel right next door, who had her kids (friend B's) with her. She wants to give her some cigarettes, so I figure it'll only take 5 minutes. Here is where things started going south. 5 minutes turn to 20 minutes, and I begin texting her to see where she was at. She says she'll be out soon, and it'll only take a few minutes. I end up waiting another 40 minutes, with me texting her every 5 minutes. After 20 minutes of no response, she tells me the friend's (B) boyfriend showed up and started arguing with them. I figure it'll be a while so I find somewhere to park and chill. With all the heat and lack of sleep from the anxiousness from last night, I nod off for an hour. I wake up, and realize how long I was out and start texting her again. 20 more minutes of no response, she tells me that the arguing got physical, so she called friend B's mom to take the kids and was on her way. 30 minutes later of no replies to my constant texts, she tells me the mom couldn't get the kids because she was waiting on her dealer to bring her pills. So now she was trying to get friend B's sister to get the kids, and would be there in 10. At this point, anyone with common sense would eventually pack it in and call it a day. 8 hours into meeting her, she's apologizing about this situation, and it was just getting worse by the minute. She eventually tells me to meet her by this local diner and that she would be there soon. Cue more waiting and texting with no response. Eventually it hits 8 pm, and I decide to call it a loss and head home. I go to bed frustrated and worried, because I don't know if she got sucked up into the drama and got hurt.

The next morning, I get a text from her, apologizing for last night, and that her phone had died. She wanted to make it up to me, promising it would only be me and her today, and nothing else. Being the trusting (At this point stupid) person, I go ahead and meet her in the afternoon. We meet up at the same fast food place from yesterday, and we get ready to go out. Before we leave, she gets a call. Its her landlord, and she's late with the rent, and was gonna get the sheriff to lock the door if she didn't pay today. As shes telling me this, she has this sad desperate look, and tells me her back story (grew up in the foster system, doesn't have family, has a shitty job). I guess I fell for it, so I decided to help her out, which ended up being $300. Flag 3We go to her landlord's, and surprisingly, it is in the same area as friend A's house. Fuck it, it's just a coincidence. She goes to the landlord's place, comes back 5 minutes later.

We ride around for a while and decide we should go back to her place to chill. But before that, she needs to get some money that a friend (C) owes her. Flag 4 We end up waiting at this motel with some other friend's (D) boyfriend. Apparently all three go way back, and we chill and talk about stuff. This turned into another 2 hours of waiting for friend (C) to get off of work, catch the bus, get lost, end up at a different hotel. I got tired of waiting, so we walk to a convenience store to kill time. Flag 5When we get there, she tells me friend (C) owes her money, but needs change. It ends up being $200 worth of change, and being the brainless idiot, I give her the money. We walk back to the hotel, wait some more. She gets a call, and says she has to meet friend (C) by herself, because friend (C) has an extremely jealous boyfriend.

This turns into virtually a repeat of yesterday. I'm there waiting, and and hour into sitting there talking with friend D's bf, she says to meet her at the diner from yesterday. Another 2 hours of waiting and no response, she then tells me to meet her at a different convenience store. I get there, more waiting, more non response, and it turns to 2 in the morning. At this point it dawns on me that I've just been scammed.

I flag a nearby cop that was leaving, and tell him I just been robbed. Cop tells me he can't help, since he's not a local cop, and to call 911. I call, give the operator the basic details, and he tells me to stay on the line while local pd gets there. The cop from earlier returns and decides to wait with me. 5 minutes later, local pd arrives, and I tell him what's been going on, shame increasing as I retell it. 3 more units arrive, and I have to repeat myself again, each time making it look more and more like a hooker trip gone bad. As I'm giving them all the details, I can see from the look on their faces that I am stupid as shit for what I've done. Ultimately, there's nothing that can be done, since I gave her the money willingly. In the end, they start heading out, and one of the officers tells me not to be a jackass and lend money to people I just met.

3 am hits, full of frustration, anger, shame, embarrassment , and I decide to make the 45 minute trip home in the dark, alone. I get home by 4, decided to post this on my phone. But by the power of the infinite universe, my phone dies just as soon as was almost finished my post. An hour of typing gone. So now I'm retyping it on my pc and it is almost 6 am. THE END

Tl;Dr: Met girl from online dating site, scammed me out of $500. Get cops involved, story sounds like a john jacked (in a bad way) by an escort, get called an idiot, and make a trip back home in the dark. Tried to post via mobile, but phone dies 1 hour in.