I've spent the bulk of my school day reading every one of these posts and they're all fantastic. I only have one little story to share which I know won't come anywhere close to the hilarity of everyone else's.

I was in my World Literature class and we were reading aloud from a short folklore story, "The Lay of the Werewolf." My teacher called on me to read aloud, which was slightly embarrassing in itself because when I read out loud in front of people, I get a bit nervous and my voice shakes. I don't even comprehend anything I read when I read it, I just concentrate on pronouncing things right and getting it the hell over with. So I begin to read the passage:

He abases himself before his foe, and cries for mercy, although he cannot speak. Beat off the hounds, and let no man do him harm. We will hunt no more to-day, but return to our own place, with the wonderful quarry we have taken."

After reading the bold part of the text above, I paused for a second or two. I couldn't hold it in. I BURST out laughing at an excessively intense volume, catching the attention of all my peers who were sleeping and not paying attention. I attempted to regain some semblance of calmness and tried to read the sentence over again. Once again, I start laughing my balls off. By this point, everyone was laughing as well. Perhaps not even so much at the notion of masturbating a wolf, but at my own uncontrollable laughter. Even my teacher couldn't suppress a smile. I believe she said, "just finish the passage, Tim." Which I couldn't do. I kept interrupting myself with laughter. Finally she picked someone else to finish.

She never called on me to read aloud after that.

So in high school there was this kid who had a band. His band was this totally generic poppy punk high school band. At a high school gathering they played and I saw them and thought they sucked.

Next day, I run into the kid. To make small talk, we start talking about the performance. He goes, "Did you like it?" I meant to say yes and be nice, but what came out of my mouth was, "Yeah, I liked it, but all the songs sounded the same. Were they covers?" Silence for a beat. He goes, "No, I wrote them all," and gives me a strange look. I walk away. I feel assholish.

Another really embarrassing high school story...

So I walked into the men's bathroom and all of these high school girls were outside in the hallway, see me walk in. I went in there to jack off cause I had one of those teen erections where you can't concentrate on anything except getting off and getting on with your life. So I start jacking. It takes me literally 20 minutes to cum. I clean myself up, walk out - and all the same high school girls who were outside before are still there. One bitchy girl goes, "What were you doing in there...?" and then everyone starts to laugh. I walked as fast as I could away from there. I think I almost cried.

I hated fucking high school.

SecondEdition wrote:Another really embarrassing high school story...

So I walked into the men's bathroom and all of these high school girls were outside in the hallway, see me walk in. I went in there to jack off cause I had one of those teen erections where you can't concentrate on anything except getting off and getting on with your life. So I start jacking. It takes me literally 20 minutes to cum. I clean myself up, walk out - and all the same high school girls who were outside before are still there. One bitchy girl goes, "What were you doing in there...?" and then everyone starts to laugh. I walked as fast as I could away from there. I think I almost cried.

I hated fucking high school.

You should have looked her dead in the eyes and said "I was rubbing one out. Is that alright with you?".

timpickens wrote:...She never called on me to read aloud after that.

Excellent story. Has me spitting my tea all over the fucking desk.

JC23by5 wrote:

SecondEdition wrote:Another really embarrassing high school story...

So I walked into the men's bathroom and all of these high school girls were outside in the hallway, see me walk in. I went in there to jack off cause I had one of those teen erections where you can't concentrate on anything except getting off and getting on with your life. So I start jacking. It takes me literally 20 minutes to cum. I clean myself up, walk out - and all the same high school girls who were outside before are still there. One bitchy girl goes, "What were you doing in there...?" and then everyone starts to laugh. I walked as fast as I could away from there. I think I almost cried.

I hated fucking high school.

You should have looked her dead in the eyes and said "I was rubbing one out. Is that alright with you?".

once my brother's then-girlfriend called up his friend in the middle of the night and woke him up -- really it was my brother's call, but she wanted to say something first. so he picks up the phone and she says "i know you were dreaming about me" and he says "yeah, i was just about to drop a load on your face."


here's a misadventure from a show in Memphis:

This girl in Rome, Georgia gives me these pills and says "they're for the drummer." i said "what are they?" she said "mints." I show them to the drummer, thinking maybe he discussed a certain pill with her, but no, he doesn't seem to know what they'd be either. We get to Memphis. The show space was great. Giant warehouse with bedrooms, art space, band space and plenty of couches and mattresses. Friendly people, party vibe. Food squabbles pre-show led to mexican -- this would be regretted. First group (started very late) was out-of-tune 60s rock type stuff. We had an ugly setup -- mixer difficulties, tangled cords, and not having my own mic isn't making life easy. I met a girl who is moving to Philly. Her band is called Wet Labia. Reggae band had good bass player but played too long. We talked about Megadeth. Keith decided tonight was the night for the mystery pill and he didn't want to take it alone, and so foolishly I went along with it. Hour later, Keith says "this pill isn't doing anything. I'm going to go nap in the van. Wake me up before the night is over." Then suddenly I NEED to lay down and I realize this is a SLEEPING pill, probably Ambien, which the Romans were trying to convince Colin and Keith is fun for recreational use/abuse, even though it just makes you need to go to sleep. Well it was NOT fun for me, though at least Keith enjoyed catching up on his sleep. I tried to stay up for the last band, The Uninvited, out of both interest (cause I'd heard recorded bits earlier and liked it) and courtesy, but I could hardly stand up. There were mattresses in the music room so I laid down, with earplugs in, drifting in and out of sleep, catching bits of the music... I worried that this seemed rude but it was the best I could do. This wouldn't have been so bad until some people decided to JUMP UP AND DOWN on the mattress beside me, causing the mattress I was on to shake violently. So then I needed to get up. I tried to watch the las song standing but it went on FOREVER, Colin said 25 minutes, and I was suffering. Someone said "You look lost" and I, mishearing, replied "Thanks!" A guy took me cruising through Memphis to smoke some weed and I fought to stay awake yet longer. Then finally I fell asleep after 4.

I wake up early with my head SWIMMING and THROBBING and my stomach CHURNING horribly. I need to go to the bathroom but I can tell by the way my head feels I'll faint on the way. I have to try anyway. I get up. I start walking, barely. Total dysphoria. My body is weak and I have no sense of balance, no circulation, no anything. The walk to the bathroom is long and in the main room I lay down because I know if I go any further I will faint and I'd just heard about how Mike Lerner fainted and cracked his head and now has staples in his skull. I'm worried about cranial damage here. So I'm laying on the floor slumped against a desk/table/thing. OK -- problem solving: you can't get up and walk to the bathroom or you may crack your head on the floor and need to go to the hospital -- but you can't just lay here or you'll shit your pants. So what do you do? Being a veritable MacGuyver, a 1000 watt lightbulb goes off in my head. Solution? MOAN. I let out a wailing lament: "Somebody... help me... Please! Please help!!" Someone walks in. "What's the problem?" "I need... to get to the bathroom..." He doesn't seem to understand. "Help me up..." He helps me up. "Bathroom's that way." "No... you need to help me get there or I'll faint..." He's skeptical and starts to walk away. I start to walk to the bathroom, terrified, and my vision starts blacking in and out. When he sees me stumbling he finally helps me walk there. I get to the bathroom and leave it with a healed stomach but my head is still a wreck but at a point where I can walk, carefully, back to the couch. I sleep a few more hours and finally my head recovers. A word of advice: fighting off a sleeping pill for hours and mixing that with a booze/weed hangover and mexican food WILL DESTROY YOUR MIND AND BODY.

Early dating experience in high school. I met this girl and a gaggle of her friends at an Applebees. She was a cheerleader and had cheerleader friends, so she introduced me to a friend who was a tad rotund. So in a bad attempt to be funny, and not really thinking before I spoke, I said to the large one
"I bet you're not at the top of the pyramid are ya?"

Needless to say I never went out with those chicks again.

Ty Webb wrote:The hangover the next day was reality-warping. I was sure I'd permanently ruined one or more of my organs. I never did get that bed competely clean and I couldn't look anyone who lived on my floor in the eye for weeks. And believe me, every last one of them knew just how drunk I was that night.

The last paragraph was great because in my head I assumed this was a collective list of many nights.

I was driving down 94 yesterday and listening to the radio, it's up loud because of the wind and noise.
I wasn't really paying attention to it, just kind of daydreaming.
I get off on the exit and I look over and there's two really hot punk looking girls in a car next to me and they are laughing and pretending to dance.
I didn't know what was so funny till I realize that my radio is blasting 'my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard' at full volume

the Sunday before this past Father's Day, My parents, brother, sister-in-law, baby nephew and I went to Fuddrucker's for a burger dinner. After the delicious burger dinner, we were all parting our ways. Sam, Julie and the baby were going home, my parents were headed home, and I, in a few minutes was going to be going home. I watched everyone head off, and I got situated in my car. So I got out my one hitter and the tiny bag of pot I had folded neatly into my cigarette pack.

I was holding the hitter in one hand and the baggie in the other, when suddenly, there was a knock on my driver's side window. startled, I looked up and saw my Mom. and she looked at me. and then she looked at the pot and the hitter. and then she looked at me again. and back to the drugs.

at this point, I performed the maneuver I like to call the "Two-Card Monty". That is, I quickly swiveled my wrists so my hands cupped the contraband, palm side down.

Now while I've got my sleight of hand going, I'd like to explain why my mom, whom I watched drive away, was standing next to my window.


see, the Saturday before the Sunday before this past Father's Day, My mom and dad took My Brother, baby Kamran, and several of my male cousins out to Comiskular Park to see White Sox band and Houston Astros Band play a show. For the record, I haven't been to a sox game in twenty years, but I've been to a few Cubs games, and am well versed in the rivalry and the arguments the fans have about each others' shortcomings.


From what I can tell, THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE. It's basically the same white people either place.


I digress.


While we were at the game, we had plenty of snackables, and I was hossing on the bag of salted peanuts. chompo chomp chompo chomp. Eat em with the shell, crack 'em open, whatever. So many peanuts, even four of us couldn't finish the bag.

At the end of this game, my mom grabbed the peanuts and took 'em with her.


here's the rub. I have been smoking pot for over twelve years. Casually, habitually, whatever. I've taken years off, and gone back, but I'm always slick. I've never been caught. And here I am, thirty years-old, getting busted with pot by my mom. oh, the shame. and the reason for the bust?




motherfucking peanuts.




I'm sitting in the car, seatbelt on, with drugs under my cupped mitts, dead to rights, and my mom breaks the silence.




"what's that?", she asked, with a very nervously concerned tone.


"uh...nothing."


"no really, what do you have there?"


"nothing?"


then mom upped the stakes:


"Is that Pot?"






































"yes."



"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!?!?"

without skipping a beat, i worked the angles.

"Well, you know how my neck and back hurt all the time (seriously, I had been in a lot of pain for months, upon turning 30, and was crunching advil and aleve, Icy hot rubs, gallons of water, tons of stretching, even heating pads at night, and yet, I had been racked with massive waves of pain for months, with little to no end in sight), and this really makes the pain go away better than ibuprofen."


(this may be true, but you and I and my mom all know why I smoke pot)



sadly, she responded: "I had just thought that you might like the peanuts. I saw them in the backseat of my car and I turned around to bring them to you in case you got hungry when you went home."




she walked away, heartbroken and disappointed. she returned shortly to toss a half-finished bag of peanuts in my lap and walk once again, back to the car and sit in the passenger seat next to my father, who was parked directly in my blind spot.










but the 'talk' didn't happen right away. It wasn't until a week later, on Father's Day, when I attended the ma and pa kerble lecture series on the dangers of marijuana use. however, I did have to see them three times that week, but in completely public situations, and not at times when 'the talk' could easily happen.

On the wednesday, we had to go with mixed company for dinner and shakespeare, and on the thursday, we were setting up the math and reading center mom and I run, and there were parents around in bunches.


we did fiercely whisper to each other, in front of all the parents.


Mom (to dad): "Have YOU talked to HIM YET?"

Dad (to mom): "I haven't had any TIME!"

Me (standing roughly six feet away from them in an otherwise completely silent room, to mom and dad): "I'm standing RIGHT HERE. I can HEAR YOU."





Regardless, the talk on Father's Day was not fun. Fortunately, I'm not a fuck-up, otherwise, so it wasn't a harsh time. besides, I'm so old.


at least I feel old.




oh, the shame.