Let's hear some funny real-life stories

[Vince]

Well, my obligatory baseball story...which is one of my greatest achievements ever. I don't know if it matches the diving catch with the beer in the other hand, though...

One year, winter league baseball, I was playing Center Field (I was 14 or 15 at the time). Pop up hit to left center, and I go over to catch the ball, but I lose it in the clouds (overcast day), and it drops about three feet to my right. I'm totally pissed, because it allowed the tying run to get to third, and there was still only one out.

Next batter comes up, and I am determined to make a play. Short blooper over the second baseman's head...I'm running all out, definitely not going to let this ball drop...I dive, fully extended in the air...the ball hits my glove, and I hold on for dear life. This part will be difficult to explain...I was completely in the air, and my chest hit the ground first. I didn't plan this, but my chest stuck, and my legs kept going forward, over my head. Kind of like a Scorpion...they just kept going. I ended up flipping over my head, and landing, amazingly enough, on my feet. The ball is still in my glove, and I gun it to the plate...where we nail the runner trying to score from third for the double play. By far, the best baseball feat ever performed in any league.

Until my mom ran out onto the field to hug me and to make sure I was still alive after flipping over in that grotesque manner.

[Fritz]

In third grade, I cheated on my history exam. In fourth grade, I stole my uncle Max's toupee and I glued it on my face when I was Moses in my Hebrew School play. In fifth grade, I knocked my sister Edie down the stairs and I blamed it on the dog...

When my mom sent me to the summer camp for fat kids and then they served lunch I got nuts and I pigged out and they kicked me out...

But the worst thing I ever done - I mixed a pot of fake puke at home and then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony and then, then, I made a noise like this: hua-hua-hua-huaaaaaaa - and then I dumped it over the side, all over the people in the audience. And then, this was horrible, all the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other. I never felt so bad in my entire life.

[CamEdwards]

Chunk, is that you?

[Fritz]

You don't think I was going to tell one of my stories do you?

[WSUCougar]

Alright, time to pull out some heavy guns.

When I was a senior in high school, my parents went back east to visit some relatives for several days. In classic fashion, my friends and I decided to have a party while they were gone. As a little background, I had been a beer-drinker for a couple years already, had been quite drunk several times, but had never gotten sick from it. I was rather proud of this latter point, although not for long.

My friends came over with a huge stockpile of Rainier beer (gack), snacks, dirty mags, cards, music (cassettes in those days), and the fun began. We liked to play a drinking game called “Brother Buzz,” which is a typical rules-oriented game where you get dinged for sips and chugs for various rules violations. Well, as I found out the next day, my friends had conspired to get me drunk as fast as possible, and their evil plan worked. Any optional drinks were assigned to me, and I was soon flying along.

One of the standard rules was no pointing, another was no swearing, and another was that everyone had to be called Brother _____ rather than just their name. Well, eventually my condition began to worsen, such that I was flagrantly breaking the rules. My friends could tell this better since some of it is vague for me (I wonder why), but I do remember flashes of things like jamming my forefinger into my friend’s face and saying, “Yeah? Well, F*CK YOU, DAVE!!!” Three chugs. “Yeah? F*CK all of you! (pointing)” Two chugs. Etc. etc., etc.

One guy eventually convinced me to drop out for awhile, which was a good idea, until I found a bottle of scotch someone had brought. BAD idea.

Fast forward to some time later (I have no clue how long it was). As a side note, our group was pretty tight, and we’d all bought these cool personalized football jerseys for a club team we played on during the summer. >FLASH< I’m sitting on the floor in the bathroom with my back against the bathtub. >FLASH< I’m ralphing all over my football jersey, looking down and thinking to myself, “Oh, man, that’s gross” and then doing it again for good measure. >FLASH< My friends have me in the shower, clothed, spraying me with cold water and me cussing them all to hell. >FLASH< I am looking at one my friend’s faces, and he’s turning away like he can’t bear to look. >FLASH< I wake up in my bed with what feels like a concrete block attached to my head, and when I move (slowly) I hear the crackling of dried puke in my hair. >FLASH< I go into the bathroom, and find a layer of oatmeal-like vomit covering the floor all around the toilet and bathtub area, in some places an inch thick. I can’t describe how disgusting it was, but I sure got a good dose of it, since I had to clean it up.

I had to clean everything up, as my friends refused to aid me further after what they’d had to do the previous night. Not to mention that my folks were coming home the next day, so I needed to get the whole house in order. Bottle caps were everywhere, the house smelled rancid, and I felt dead to the world.

For this epic production, I was awarded a Chipper Award – a certificate (which I still have somewhere) with such things as “Merit for Quantity” noted on it and signed by all my friends who were present. I can never recall experiencing a puke-fest of that variety, before or since.

[sabotai]

Any recent, and hopefully embarrising, stories? It's graduation time for some, you have to have some juicy stuff for us.

[EagleFan]

Not recent, but I'll chime in since I haven't yet.

A few years back, maybe more than just a few. Coming back from a Wings game, after stopping off at the Ground Round for wings and drinks, 4 of us (all friends from high school) decided to pay a late night visit to a couple that we also went to school with (they are now married and hated by most from our class as they are elitist yuppies).

We would always torture this guy, all the way back to school when we would put his truck up on the sidewalk, or on blocks, during school outings. We placed barrells full of water in the back of his truck and stuff like that following other Wings games, it was a bit of a tradition for a while.

This particular day it had snowed and the roads were slippery. We were in my friends Formula Firebird (key to a later portion of the story). We knew that John was going to be at his girlfriend's house that night since her parents were away.

Her house was at the end of a dead end so we drove just past her house and parked the car in the turn-around area. We walked back to her yard and found his truck to be unlocked so we took it out of gear and pushed it out to the road and a little past the turn-around.

We then decided to go back and get her car. It was locked so we were seaching for something to jimmy the lock with and suddenly there was a bright light shining on us. Her neighbors saw us and had called the police. We were suddenly face to face with the police while trying to jimmy open a car in the middle of the night.

I still have no idea how we talked our way out of it but conviced the cop that we knew the people that lived there and were just playing a joke. He never even went to the house to check our story but told us to leave.

We got back in our friend's car and proceeded to the end of the road with the cop following us and then got stuck. Three of us had to jump out of the car and push him out of the snow. We saw the cop behind us just laughing his ass off while we then got covered with a wave of slush as his our friend's car took hold and tore up some snow (nothing like a 300+ horsepower rear wheel drive sports car in the snow).

We still can't believe the cop never even checked out our story. We knew we were up the river if he did because we could easily see John saying he didn't even know us.

[Chief Rum]

Well, I don't have any recent ones, but I missed this thread the first time, so I thought I might contribute.

Here's one. I'm in Vegas with a bunch of friends, including my brother. I'm the kind of guy that A) sits at a blackjack table until the wee hours of the morning, and B) am duly impressed by how many free drinks I can guzzle in a certain amount of time. This particualr tale involves me and a table at O'Hares, across from Caesar.

At first I am playing with my brother and friends, but they eventually take off somewhere else, and I am left to my game. I am on a good run, it seems, and I am also draning the drinks like nothing. The night passed in a haze, as I counted up the drinks...5 White Russians (my drink at the time)...10 White Russians...15...20...now, mind you, these are the free-super-watered-down-using-cheap-ass-vodka-in-Vegas White Russians, but nevertheless, drunk in quantity, they certainly have their effect. I was able to stay even or up by $25 or so most of the night, but it was getting really hard to keep my vision still and steady or my focus on my cards by the time I noticed the sun was coming up. The last thing I remember was noting it was past seven (I remember thinking that because that's when the breakfast buffet at Imperial Palace next door opens), and, of course, that I was really, REALLY tired.

The next moment I remember, I awoke on a hotel bed in a dark room. I had no idea where I was. I stumbled around in the dark and found my watch. It was two in the afternoon. I pulled back the blinds (which were closed), and realized I was in the IP hotel room we all had rented (about 7-8 guys in a room). I couldn't remember a thing between sitting at the blackjack table and me being in this room.

So I had to find out later from my friends what happened. Apparently, about nine o'clock in the morning, I slammed the door open and stumbled into the room. My entrance was quite loud, waking a few of my friends. I propped against the wall opposite the beds, head (and whole body) leaning into my arm, which I was using for support. One of my freinds would later call it the "holding up the wall" act. Apparently, I stayed like this for a good five minutes, holding up the wall, and trying to steady myself. Since it was mostly done in silence, my friends drifted off to sleep again.

I finally decided to make my move. My brother and a friend were on one of the beds. I proceeded to stumble to the edge of the bed, crawled up on top of it, up between my brother and my friend, and then proceeded to brusquely push my brother completely over the edge of the bed, giving him a rude awakening (he hadn't budged when I first came in apparently). I then proceeded to completely pass out and become the Immovable Object.

Having been awakened my brother and friends decided to just go golfing and let me sleep it off.

Two things-- I never found out how in the hell I made it from O'Hares back to IP, or whom I no doubt accosted along the way, and I discovered a $125 in chips that I had apparently won at the blackjack table, despite my blithering drunk state.

Chief Rum

[cuervo72]

Sophmore year in college, and we were all getting ready to watch the NBA in our lounge, Bulls/Knicks I think. Well, there's this gruff Chinese guy there (I think he was Chinese...anyway, my friends who wanted to watch the game were two Chinese, one Korean and an Indian, so it's not really an integral part of the story) , the boyfriend of a girl on our floor who didn't talk to us the whole year. He decided when we were away that he was going to watch Kung Fu movies!

Well, my friends and I usually aren't directly confrontative (we tended to be more plotting and devious), and this guy didn't seem like he really would have been interested anyway. So we figured hmm, how can we piss him off/drive him out of the lounge? My room and two of the other guys' rooms were at opposite ends of the floor, with the lounge roughly in the middle. We popped each had the Achtung Baby cd (this is in 92/93), so we decided to put a copy in a stereo in each room, crank it up, and synchronize playing them over the phone (ok, on three...). Zoo Station was BLASTING through our floor, and in the lounge created a nice stereo effect.

Well, Kung-Fu boy wasn't all that pleased, and became somewhat confrontative, spouting out stuff about him being a bad-ass from the streets of Philly, and that he (and possibly a couple buddies) was going to do some Kung Fu on our asses. I think his GF talked him down. We didn't see much of him - or her - after that.

[Eaglesfan27]

I missed this thread the first time so I decided I would share two embarassing unrelated stories that some people may find funny:

The first one occured when I was either 13 or 14. First, you should know I was raised exclusively by a single mom who didn't know jack about sports. I decided to play football for the first time my freshman year as I had wanted to shed my nerd image and also I had just undergone a big growth spurt and had been lifting for two years. Anyway, on our first day of our team meeting which was just Coach talking to us (and telling us what to expect) he told me and the rest of the guys to just wear their shorts and shoulder pads for the first practice the next day (because the temp was supposed to be over 95 degrees.) Well, I think this is great and I come to practice the next day, completely excited about my first real practice. I immediately notice guys snickering at me and wonder what the heck I am doing wrong. I'm dressed in my Jersey with pads and my uniform shorts. I notice the snickering gets really bad when I bend over for offensive linemen drills. In my excitement, I hadn't realized everyone was wearing different shorts. Only when a teammate comes up to me at the end of practice and tells me, do I realize I'm wearing an boxer-brief type of athletic supporter that came with the uniform to go under our pants as my shorts. Furthermore, it was kind of small and tight so people can see my underwear that I'm wearing underneath my uniform's "underwear." I was so embarassed I wanted to quit the team but I didn't and guys teased me about it for the whole season. Even worse, the girl's soccer team (which had a really cute girl I really liked) was practicing on the field next to us and they all noticed my mistake as well.

The second story is not as funny in my opinion: I had never been drunk before in my life and I was a 17 year old freshman at Univ. of Southern California and my friends decided it would be fun to get me drunk to celebrate the end of our first. All, I had drank during my freshman year was beer and I was rather ignorant about hard liquor. Well, they bought me a fifth of Black Rum and convinced me that a 32 oz cup should be filled equally with half rum and half coke and that I should drink that all throughout the night. Furthermore, my friends decided they should add some more Rum as I got lower in the cup, without adding a compensating amount of coke. Well, after drinking this mixture for a while the world started becoming hazy. We were watching Happy Gilmore. The rest of the story I can only retell because my roommates decided it would be really funny to videotape the rest of it. First, they videotaped me puking in the toilet (I'm told it smelled like pure rum.) Then, they videotaped me walking into the cute girl's room across the room from us and pissing in their living room corner (my friends apparently told me this was the proper place to go to the bathroom.) Then, I was on the verge of passing out, so they directed me back to my bedroom and stopped videotaping me. The rest of the story I know from my poor roommate who didn't have any part in getting me drunk. He was already asleep underneath me in the bunkbeds. I somehow got to the top bunk without breaking my neck (which to this day amazes me.) Anyway, at some point I woke up and puked over the side of the bed with a large portion of it splattering on him. At which point, he woke up and nicely escorted me out of the room, onto the couch and placed my huge laundry basket (after he emptied it gratefully) besides me which I puked into several other times that night (I eventually just had dry heaves.) I was hung over for about 36 hours and had to help the girls clean their carpet the next day. My roommate who was a great guy had already cleaned our room.

Anyway, these are my two most embarassing moments. I really thought Cam's story was the most funny with several others that also made me laugh out loud.

[tucker342]

Chief Rum, that's a great story

[cuervo72]

Originally posted by sabotai
Gobstopper Hotplate

Not much to this story. We just wanted to see what would happen if you put gobstoppers on a hotplate.

And here's what happens.

The gobstoppers melt, the gobstoppers stick, the gobstoppers stay (IOW, they melt and you can't get them off). And the result is that everytime you plug the hotplate in for now on, it will smell like gobstoppers. [/b]

Reminds me a the time in cooking class in Jr. High (I've mentioned this before, so pardon if it's familiar). After we cooking french toast or pancakes or something, we would clean up the dishes, stove, etc. and then return to our desks for whatever "lesson" the teacher had for us (how to use an egg-beater, how to measure things, idiot stuff like that. Well, one time right before we headed back to our desks, I placed some paper towels on one of the electric stove's burners, and set the burner to low. A few minutes later, in the middle of the lesson, the burner got hot enough to light the towels Somehow I didn't get in trouble for it.

In elementary school, I remember one time in lunch my Mom packed an orange for me (which she was known to do), and at that age, I had no idea how to eat an orange correctly. I would chew it, and be left with a big sticky mess. Well, one day I decided it would be a good idea to take that big juicy mess in my hand, and hurl it towards the wall of the cafeteria. The walls were painted cinderblock, and were maybe 20 feet tall, painted one color on the bottom half and white on the top. Well anyway, I threw the mass pretty high (I didn't even bother to get up from my table, so it passed over a couple of them), hit on the top half of the wall - and stuck. Nobody (lunch aides, teachers) noticed this until well after lunch, so it stuck there for a few hours. Eventually I was nabbed, and returned to the cafeteria to get up on a ladder and clean the orange off. I believe it ended up leaving a mark....

Oh, and then there was the time in college when we went into one of the engineering buildings at night and roamed through the halls emptying a fire extinguisher...after which I believe we went outside to urinate on the school library.

[Draft Dodger]

this morning my wife and I were leaving the house and she said..."it looks good clean-shaven".

I stopped, gave her a funny look, and then realized she meant to say "the lawn looks good mowed".

signed,
Sigmund

[SirFozzie]

I only have two embarassing stories, both neighborhood sports:

We played two hand touch football in my drive way (one endzone was the open garage doors) and the other endzone was across the street. Well, I throw a perfect long bomb to yhe reciever, who's watching ball all the way, and looks like it'll just drop into his hands right before he makes the endzone. Unfortunately, I throw it a litle to his right. and you see, we had two garage doors, and there was a mini wall between the two of em. He jumps up, catches the ball and SLAMS into the garage wall, and is OUT like a light for a few minutes.

The funny thing is, while he counted the birdies on the driveway.. we were arguing over if he had held the ball long enough and if the garage wall counted as the end zone

The other one iwas at a friend's house where we had a neighborhood ball league. Single to the outfield, my brother Jody hits third and heading home, where he stumbles. Since they're already throwing home, he starts back to third.the Catcher comes up the line and takes the throw and fires to third. My brother dives in head first.. the throws a bit off line, so the third baseman has to reach for it, and jumps back in an attempt to tag Jody, and wham.. the third baseman's knee cllouts my brother in the head. now, my brother had minor cuts, he even finished the game after a few minutes of wooziness. But he has a pretty good shiner for a bit, and I guess a little bit of the blood got intohis eyes, and he could freak anyone out, he'd just look away, and the combination of the blood in his eye (all different colors) and the shiner would make brave men lose their lunch

[cthomer5000]

This takes place about 4 years ago, when I lived off-campus while going to Rutgers.



After a fairly uneventuful Friday night, me and one of my housemates (Rich) part ways and head to our rooms at about midnight, a pretty early bedtime for a college student on a Friday. I wake up Saturday morning, come out of my room, and someone who looked vaguely familiar sleeping on our couch. I'm thinking, "Some of Rich's friends must have come down to New Brunswick last night to crash here." This sort of thing was a totally normal occurence for any of us liviing in the house (4 total), we had plenty of friends who'd come down to hang out for a night, or just sleep over if in the area for a concert or something. I headed to the shower to get my morning going.

After a quick rinse, I'm heading back to my bedroom, and pass by Rich in the kitchen. We give each other the standard "hey" greeting and keep on moving - me to my bedroom, him to his frying eggs.

After getting dressed I step out of my room for a bite to eat, and head back into the kitchen. I'm pouring a bowl of Kix when Rich leans over and asks "Uhh, do you know this guy?" (referring to the still sleeping couch resident).


Me: "No! He's not one of your friends?"

Rich: "No way. I thought it was Mendem (last name of one of our friends) at first, but it's definitely not."

Both our other roomates are home for the weekend, so we're the only two there. We head into the living-room to find out who the hell Guy On The Couch is. He's a smallish guy, so we're not very concerned about our safety.

As we step into the room, Guy On the Couch wakes up.


Rich: "Uhh, hey."

GOTC: "Hey, Where am I?"

We explain exactly where he is, and we all realize we have definitely never met before.

Rich: Do you have any clothes on under there? (GOTC is under a blanket which always sat on the couch to cover stained cushions)

GOTC: No. Do you know where my stuff is?

there is no sight of pants, shirt, shoes, or wallet and keys.

GOTC: I was at a party on Blank St. last night and got pretty drunk, I think some friends must have played a trick on me. Are you sure you guys aren't fucking with me?

GOTC is positive we're screweing with him, and part of some elaborate joke that has left him naked in a strange apartment.

Me: Do you know anyone who lives nearby? Have them come bring you some clothes or something.

GOTC: where am I again?

Rich gives our address.

GOTC: Yeah, I know this girl that lives just a few blocks away - I think. I'll call her.

In the meantime I'm digging up my worst pieces of clothing to give to this guy to get him the hell out of our house. We overhear what is (predictably) a strange conversation between GOTC and the girl he's calling. I can't imagine making a call like that myself. During this phone call he repeats our address about 5 times, confirms it with us twice, and continues on. The phone call ends, and I continue digging for throwaway clothes. Less than a minute later there is a knock at our back door. (We were the first floor of a 2 apt house. So this was our "inner' back door. Only friends or upstairs neighbors would be knocking.

We answer the door, and it's Anne, one of our upstairs neighbor - holding some sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Anne: Hey, I am SO sorry about this.

Us: What?

Anne: Sorry about this, I barely even know this guy. I'm so embarrased, And really sorry.

We're now dumbfounded by the odds that this guy would call this girl he barely knew, and by chance that it would be DIRECTLY above our apartment. The coincidence was mind-blowing.

Anne gives him some clothes, continues to apologize profusely, and we get the guy the hell out of our apartment. It was an incredibly strange episode. It got even stranger and funnier when Anne came back a few hours later to fill us in on some details.

Anne: I barely know that guy. He's a friend of a friend and we've met maybe twice. I'm really sorry about this whole thing.

Me and Rich found it more funny than anything and assure here it's not her fault and there is no harm done.

Anne: I've never really liked that guy because he's kind of weird.

She then goes on to explain how someone was knocking at their door at like 4 am last night, and they didn't answer it. They never checked outside that door (their front door) until mid-afternnon, because they all ALWAYS came in and out of the back door (near the driveway)...

When somone finally went out the front door they found a pile of clothes. A pile of wet clothes. Upon further inspection, a pile of urin-soaked clothes. Anne knew that GOTC was known to have to piss often when drinking, and apparently relieved himself on the landing in front of their apartment. Then for whatever reason, used his own clothes to dry it up, and left them a few feet from her door. He then stumbled back downstairs naked, and into our apartment (literally the ONLY night I hadn't checked that the front door was locked before going to bed).

All in all, one of the strangest and funniest experiences of my life. It's always a fun story to tell. And yes it's true. Names where changed to protect the participants.

[lcjjdnh]

Funny Story from a trip to NYC/Shea Stadium:

It started off with my dad buying Mets tickets for my family. Later he found out my brother/sister had a baseball/softball game so they wouldn't be able to go. So he decides to give the tickets to my friends and I believing that we're old enough to take a trip to the city by ourselves(we were 16 at the time). Since none of drive, we had to take the bus into the city(From New Jersey) and then take the subway around.

We get to the Port Authority bus station and decide to buy tickets for the trip home. I didn't have any pockets so I give mine to one of my friends to hold on to. Anyway, we leave the bus terminal and my friend says he wants to go to Times Square. I suggest we go under the subway tunnel and it will take us right to the Times Square station so we can walk out right to it. My friend insist that he knows the city and demands that we follow him. So we're walking along and two of my friends decide to buy sunglasses. As we're standing there, I get up and I see that we're on like 33rd St. Knowing that we started on at least 39th or 40th St. I think to myself that we've been walking in the wrong direction for a good 10 to 15 minutes b/c Times Square is on 42nd St. After I finally convince my bonehead friend we were going we turn a around and start back on our way.

All of of sudden we're walking along and my my same friend starts to scream. He goes,

"Oh my God, look, look it's Samuel L. Jackson"

We all look and together exclaim:

"You idiot, it's the freaking wax musuem"

Everyone in the area just started laughing at the kid including the guy working at the museum.

Then we go to the Virgin Megastore and of course this same friend manages to actually get lost inside the store. We're already to leave before we realize that we didn't know where he was. It actually took us a good 20 minutes to find him in the store. When we find him, we get on the subway.

Now, we have arrived at Shea Stadium. I call my dad to tell him and he tells us to make sure we get out of there in time, as it was fireworks night and the game could run long and he didn't want us to miss the last bus to NJ. I tell my friends who all agree until this same friend exclaims in all seriousness:

"It's not that far, we can always walk home"

We all stand there stunned at this comment and don't even give him an immediate response. He apparently doesn't realize that it requires us to cross back over the river and then another 30 minute drive back to our town much less walk.

For some reason, this game goes particular long and we have to rush out of there quickly. I look at the time and realize that if we don't hurry we won't get back in time for the bus. Now we arrive at the subway station and realize we have no idea how to get back to the bus terminal because my friend refused to go under to get to Times Square. We have to ask the conductor for directions and sprint. After running through the tunnel to the bus station, my friend is convinced that he know where to go. So we run there and don't see our bus. We ask a police officer for help and he tells us that our bus is in fact on the other side of the terminal. Another sprint to get there, and we get there just in time. Now if you recall, I gave my ticket to my friend. As I get on the bus, I ask him for my ticket and as luck would have it, he has lost it. Now I'm really worried b/c this is the last bus back. Finally, he finds it in one of his pockets and we get on.

We walk to the back of the bus only to see my same friend's brother and some of his friends. After attempting to start a conversation we realize that he is just piss drunk, and of course not of legal drinking age. It was a fine conclusion to a funny trip.

Sorry if this was a bit long but the whole trip was a pretty interesting experience for our first solo trip to the city.

[illinifan999]

When i was 11 we were playing football in the frontyard. The frontyard is loaded with trees. I am on of the receivers and I go out for a pass, and the QB lofts it over to me right away. I catch it and right away get bulldozed by a tree. I had a pretty scratched up face from that. To top it all off, class pictures were the next day.

This next one isn't really that funny at all, just a few nice slides in baseball.

We were playing and I got on second. The coach kept telling me to get off further and further. Finally the pitcher throws it back to second and I look like I'm about to be totally out, shouldn't have even been close. I start running back to the bag and the 2nd baseman puts his glove down so he gets my cleat when I slide. Except that I didn't slide I jumped over his glove and got back safely.

This year was freshmen baseball. We were playing Johnsburg (our rivals) and we needed to win to stay in the conf champ hunt. (They usually always beat us, in every sport, every year.) Well I get walked right away, and then comes our 6th batter who was in a major slump. He gets a hold of hit and puts it over the left fielders head. I'm chugging around third as he is saying go, go ,go then suddenly STOP! I was already half-way home so I kept running. The catcher catches it when I'm about 3/4 of the way there. He gets down to block the plate and just expects me to slide into him. Too bad we really needed taht run so I remembered what Jason Kendall did once when he jumped over the catcher, so I figured what the hell and I jumped and landed on my back but I was squarely on home plate so I was safe. Then in the bottom of the 7th (last inning) I came up with the bases loaded down by 1. I had gone 0-2 with a walk so far in the game. First pitch line drive into the gap beating the much hated rivals.

[tucker342]

cthomer's story kind of reminds me of the guy on the couch in Halfbaked

Great story

[Balldog]

My sophomore in High School we were getting loose before our baseball game on the first base side in foul territory while the other team was taking infield. They were about done and their coach hits a pop-up to the catcher well he hit it a little up the line and start yelling heads up. He yells heads up about 4 times, I'm thinking what are the odds of it hitting me so I don't move and throw the ball to my buddy. Then wham I got hit right scare in the middle of the top of my head on the little button on top of your hat. It hurt like hell. I went 2-3 though.

[WSUCougar]

bumped, because there is some FUNNY stuff in here

[Draft Dodger]

I just walked by someone's desk. she was gone for the night, but sitting together on top of her desk was

1 Cucumber
1 Tube of Vaseline Intensive Care Hand Lotion

[korme]

No frickin' way DD.

[Dutch]

Originally Posted by CamEdwards

Here's my funniest "on-air" story:

About four years ago, I was the afternoon news anchor at the radio station where I now work as the morning host. I had four newscasts an hour, and between writing my own stories and anchoring, I didn't always have time to read my scripts before I went on the air.

I was halfway through a newscast one afternoon when I got to a story about the pecan harvest in southern Oklahoma. It sounded something like this.

"Pecan farmers in southern Oklahoma say the drought has hurt them."

cut to soundbite of farmer:

"Take a look at my nuts. You can see they're smaller than normal. Just roll my nuts around in your hand and you can tell their softer than they should be."

cut to me:

stunned silence. Then I start reading the rest of the story.

"*chuckle*.. Farmer Raymond Brown says his nuts...*chuckle*"

and then I lost it. Full blown laughter. I was laughing so hard I was crying.. ON THE AIR. After about twenty seconds the producer (who was also laughing so hard he couldn't see) kills my mic and tries to toss it back to the afternoon host. Of course he's laughing so hard you can't make out a word he's saying.

Then the producer cuts back to me without warning, right as I'm saying through tears and giggles... "my nuts are smaller than normal."

After about fifteen more seconds of uncontrollable giggling all around, the producer finally had the presence of mind to just go to a commercial.

I'm still not sure if the reporter who wrote that story did it on purpose, or if he was just so ignorant he didn't realize what that soundbite would do to me.

Woooo! That is one hilarious story, Cam! Oh man...

[Draft Dodger]

Originally Posted by Shorty3281

No frickin' way DD.

truth

[Fritz]

When I was in college I had this Italian Girlfriend. I was failing Spanish and she decided to help, figuring Spanish and Italian were pretty close. Her plan was to come over with some flashcards mornings before class and drill me. Her system involved mounting me. She would should show me the english word and if I got the spanish word right she would move. Well, I got pretty damn proficient with this in no time.

Fast forward: I was in class and the prof. called on me. Protocol was to stand up and give the answer to a question. So he asks me something, and I reply in spanish (with perfect itallian inflection), and sprouted a handsome and obvious erection. I quickly grabbed my books, covered manly region, and walked out.

I dropped that class.

[corbes]

Originally Posted by Fritz

Fritz's story here.

Pavlov was on to something there.

[AZSpeechCoach]

My nuts are smaller than normal...

I won't stop laughing for weeks...

During my college radio DJ days, I had the Thursday afternoon shift one semester. There was an annoying sports-guy named Wayne who would do 2 sports reports an hour. Wayne also had a VERY high opinion of his own worth. He was making a "demo tape" of his reports so that when ESPN came calling, he could show them how talented he was. He always wanted us to announce his report as if Jesus himself were coming back. This despite the fact that he couldn't announce worth a damn or pronounce names correctly. One day, my assistant and I decide to screw with Wayne. We started playing "Macarena" (my show was devoted to music that sucks), and noticed that Wayne was dancing in the news studio. I pulled out a sound-bite, and just as I announced "And now, it's time with sports with your dancing sports dude, Wayne," I played "Bring out the gimp" from Pulp Fiction. Five seconds of shocked silence from Wayne, and then he limply started the sports news. The next week, I opened his sports report with a Star Wars "I recognized your foul stench when I came on board." Wayne came storming into the studio after that. "What the hell?!? You're ruining my demo tape!" Wayne managed to have himself transferred to another show shortly after that.

[sabotai]

I just thought about this thread the other day while reading through the SI suspension thread. The kid brings in an SI swimsuit edition and gets suspended for three days, and me and my friends did all kinds of shit (the 3 in here are just the tip of the iceberg) in school, and never got punished for any of it.

[bbor]

Originally Posted by Draft Dodger

I just walked by someone's desk. she was gone for the night, but sitting together on top of her desk was

1 Cucumber
1 Tube of Vaseline Intensive Care Hand Lotion

Pic?

[corbes]

Originally Posted by Cam

My nuts are smaller than normal...

Stories like that always crack me up

Originally Posted by AZSpeechCoach

"What the hell?!? You're ruining my demo tape!"

That's a good one. I'll have to use that line sometime.

[Logan]

Great thread. Here's a story from a couple weeks ago that I will NEVER live down.

And for cthomer and any other Rutgers alum, I'll be specific about certain things so you can have a point of reference...

So it was a normal Friday night around RU. My roommates and I were pre-gaming at our place before we hit up a couple parties. Let me preface by saying that I can drink. I have a real high tolerance and can go with the best of em. While I certainly get drunk a lot, I don't get ridiculously incoherent too often. And fine, I won't be 21 for a few months, but hey--what you gonna do? Anyway, we recently discovered that Smirnoff Citrus Twist is the greatest vodka ever (well, besides the Goose). You can mix equal parts of that and any juice and you won't taste anything. So in not too much time, I kill 3 cups that had about 3 shots each, and then we go over to a friend's house on Morrell St.

Once I got there, I started feeling the vodka, but that's not a problem. Ended up playing a game of spades with a few friends. We quit the game about halfway thru, and at that point I filled my pint glass 4 or 5 times. Time to head to the next party...

We go all the way down Hamilton St. to a Delta Gamma sorority party. I get in, start dancing with some of the girls...and since I was real drunk at this point, my hatred of dancing is out the window. They had a few kegs there, which I visited frequently. I do remember it being a real fun time, but unfortunately, this is also the last thing I remember.

----
(Everything from here until further notice has been recounted to me by the parties involved. Enjoy my stupidity...)

I left with one of my roommates and we headed to RU Grill for some food. After gettin some pizza, we realize for our own sake, we better get back to our apartment. As we walk into our building, I separate from him, as he's going to hang out with someone in another apartment. I get in the elevator, and walk down the hall to my room. I realize at this point that I don't have my key, and am in danger of passing out in the hallway, so I call my roommate. Now my roommate's speed dial on my cell phone is #31 (this is one of maybe 5 speed dial numbers I know, for whatever reason). So I dial "3" "1" "send."

At least I thought I dialed that. Apparently I missed the "3." So instead of calling my roommate, I called #1 on my speed dial. Home. When someone picked up, I started rambling, "I'm real drunk, I can't get into the apartment, and I'm about to pass out." And then I hung up.

[A quick aside to describe where I live. It's called the Easton Ave. Apartments, and its a large complex--about 10 stories high. While normally its fine, its not exactly great to be wandering around the street alone and drunk at 3 am in the area, which is right by the New Brunswick train station.]

Somehow I got into the apartment, and passed right out. My mom, however, was terrified. She hears her son incoherent on the phone, saying he can't get into his apartment, and is about to pass out (and she thinks I'm on Easton Ave. at this point). So she frantically tries to call me back. I don't pick up. Calls a few more times, no answer. She now decides to call the Rutgers police. They call my cell. No answer.

----
I become conscious again in the living room to my apartment, as I'm butchering my ABCs. Joining me is my equally messed-up roommate, a Rutgers cop, an EMT, and the head RA of the apartments. They decide that they needed to take both of us to the hospital. So they make us go in an ambulance to Robert Wood Johnson Hospital...which is honestly a 10 second WALK from my apartment.

I'm not in the emergency room for more than 5 minutes before my parents walk in (school is only about 20 mins from home). I thought they were going to kill me, but they were just happy I was alive. The doctor made me sit around for a while, and then I walked a straight line, and was released to my parents who took me back. FWIW, they wouldn't let my roommate go until his BAC level came down, as his parents weren't there. He read out at .167, and this was after sleeping for 2 hours. I can't even imagine what mine was at one point.

I guess the moral of the story is, if you're gonna drink, don't be stupid. And if you're gonna be stupid, don't call your parents and let them in on it.

And damn this was long...

[TLK]

Wow.....

[Eaglesfan27]

I did a few of my med school rotations at RWJ Hospital and am very familiar with those apartments as I used to date a girl who lived there.. funny story.

[WSUCougar]

Was just recently reminded of Cam's infamous nut story, so I thought I'd bump this.

[Poli]

Nice. I missed this entire thread.

[Ksyrup]

Glad to see this was revived instead of a new thread started so I don't have to re-tell my penis near-transplant story again. Although, Christmas is around the corner...

[sterlingice]

Man, I don't remember this thread at all but some good stuff here

SI

[Pumpy Tudors]

Thanks for bumping this thread. I'd forgotten about it, but re-reading some of these stories has me cracking up here in the office. Anyway, here's a Pumpy story for you (no pics):

A couple of years ago, my wife called me right before I was leaving work to ask me to pick up dinner on the way home. She wanted Thai food, which I don't really eat. My plan was to walk into the Thai restaurant, order her food, go across the street to a gas station, and just get myself a sandwich or something. I got to the restaurant and walked in. I'd been in there a few times before, but I didn't recognize any of the people I saw working there that night. There were four Thai men near the counter. Three were sitting and one was working behind the counter. Nobody else was in the room.

Please pardon the broken English I use to quote the guy in this story. This is exactly how he spoke, and I'm not trying to make fun of his nationality.

One of the three seated men smiled and yelled to me, "Come in! How you doing?" I told him that I was fine and that I wanted to place a to-go order. The guy behind the counter took my order, and I said that I would be back in about 15 minutes to pick it up. The guy who greeted me then exclaims, "Why you leave? Stay! Sit down! Have drink with us!" The other guys at the counter look like they're about to burst into laughter at any second. I explain that I'm just going to go across the street for something, and I'll be right back to get my food. The gentleman says again, "Sit down! Have drink!" Figuring that I might be able to get a good story out of this, I sit down.

He asks, "What you like to drink? We have lots of different beer!" I don't drink, and I'm not really thirsty anyway, so I politely decline. He continues, "No! Come on, man! We trying to be friendly with you! What kind of beer you like?" Not wanting to make a big deal about me not drinking, I just tell him that I'm not really much of a beer drinker, and that I'm really fine. That's not good enough for him. "It OK, man! It on me! You like Heineken? You know what? We have great beer from Thailand, called Sing Ha! Taste just like Heineken! Get this man Sing Ha!"

The kid behind the counter grabs the Sing Ha out of the cooler, opens it, and places it in front of me. Again, every one of the guys looks like they're trying to stifle laughter. I peer at the bottle like I expect Ray Lewis to jump out of it and tackle me at any second. The guy says again, "It taste just like Heineken! Sing Ha! Drink! Drink!" It's at this point that I notice that all three men are drinking actual Heinekens. If Sing Ha is so good, why aren't they drinking it?

Anyway, to get the guy off my back, I take a sip of the Sing Ha, which I now affectionately refer to as Liquid Death. My throat muscles briefly collapsed upon themselves, and I felt my esophagus nearly shift into reverse for a moment. Tears flooded my eyes, but to keep the experience going, I managed to whimper, "That's good!" At this point, everyone else at the counter loses it. Sensing my inability to speak, my host decides to tell me a story.

"You see this restaurant? I just buy this restaurant two months ago! I do lot of hard work to make money for my family in Thailand! I could make thousand dollars, go home to Thailand, and they treat me like king! I am VERY RICH MAN in Thailand, But I stay in America to help family. You know what I do to get out of Thailand and come to America? I tell you."

At this point, I'm wondering if they're really cooking my wife's food or if this place has just become the Thai version of Def Poetry Jam, and they're glad to have a pair of American ears. Anyway, the story continues.

"I have to fight in jungles. People come, start war, try to kill us. I have to fight FOR MY LIFE. While I live in Thailand, I kill two hundred men. I have to kill just to get out. I am like Thailand version of Rambo! Americans, you have your TV show where you live in jungle for a month? What that show? Survivor? It like a game to Americans! I do not live in jungle for million dollars. I live for my life! You play Survivor? I LIVE SURVIVOR."

By now, I can only stare at him with my mouth wide open. I'm totally speechless. This man is drunk. Rambo must have noticed that I wasn't drinking my delicious Sing Ha.

"Hmm. You really not drinker, are you? You not like Sing Ha?" I take another sip and I try so hard to control the resultant internal spasms that I nearly fall off my stool. I manage to croak, "No, no, it's fine." My rescue arrives when a cook brings my wife's food out from the kitchen. I jump up from the stool, pay for the dinner, and prepare to bolt for the door. Rambo stops me. "Wait! You forget your Sing Ha!" I thank him but explain that I shouldn't drink and drive. "OK! Hahaha! You come back anytime, man!"

I never went to that place again.

[JeeberD]

Originally Posted by WSUCougar

Was just recently reminded of Cam's infamous nut story, so I thought I'd bump this.

I often think of Cam's nuts...

[Neon_Chaos]

I have a short one about my very first summer league basketball game...

I was about 13, IIRC.

I was subbed in during the 2nd quarter, and was playing PF. The opposing team was shooting free-throws, he makes the first one and misses the 2nd. So there I was, in my first game, and I manage to grab the defensive rebound.

In a complete state of shock and complete joy about getting a rebound in my first game, I forget that we were in the opposing side of the floor. So I post up against one of our opponents, and shot the ball into our own hoop.

The entire floor just suddenly became silent. The ref didn't know what to do... and I was dragged back into the bench by my coach.

The best thing about it was that when I went up to shoot the ball, three opposing players jumped up and tried to block my shot.

[Pumpy Tudors]

Originally Posted by Neon_Chaos

The best thing about it was that when I went up to shoot the ball, three opposing players jumped up and tried to block my shot.

This part makes the experience twice as good.

[Wolfpack]

Couple of "old neighborhood" sports shorts....

There was a circle of friends I hung out with in my neighborhood roughly ranging from a year or two older to a few years younger in age. We played a truckload of sports and played nearly every day if possible, going with the seasons.

Usually, we played basketball at one of two places, my really good friend's house, or the house across the street that had three brothers who we were generally good friends with, but had a rather vicious sibling rivalry going on. Anyway, it's one of those days where we can't scrounge up enough to play a good game of basketball, so we're resorting to silly shooting contests at the first house to pass the time (I recall it was me, my friend Jon--his house, and the oldest brother Ken, maybe another person). We're doing this long-distance shooting contest where we're firing up the ball from the middle of the street, something on the order of a half-court shot. I forget the exact circumstances, but after a while, the heckling starts to pick up as we try to distract the shooter from making his shot. I forget who was shooting at the time, but for some reason I came up with the brilliant insight to blurt out something that totally had nothing to do with basketball or us or anything, right as the shooter let go of the ball. So, the shooter takes his shoot and I bellow at that moment, "MILK BONE!!" This was such an unexpected development that we're all just dying over the next several minutes. Each time someone takes a shot, no one can keep a straight face because no one knows what's going to be yelled next. "ALPO!" "JERKY TREATS!"

The other story is that we also played baseball as a group. Sort of. For a long time we actually played Whiffle Ball, but not in the sense anyone here might recognize. We would actually get the bats and balls and then use up rolls of duck tape on them. The balls got taped up to cover the holes and the bats got heavy tape on the barrel to give them some weight. We'd then play baseball with this equipment with some minor rules variations (two outs an inning, overhand slow pitch for more offense, could throw the ball at someone to get them out if you hit them). Anyway, it's "opening day" for playing whiffleball one spring and a few of us head over to the field we play games at. I'd made a brand new bat, trying to be precise about the duck tape application to make sure the bat didn't have much in the way of sponginess to soften any hits. So, we're out at the field and among us is the youngest of the three brothers, Kyle, and Ken, along with a couple of other kids and we're just playing around a bit waiting for others to show up so we can play. I'm at the plate, Kyle's at third, and Ken's out in the outfield somewhere. Kyle, for whatever reason, decides he's going to give me junk and tells me I can't hit it past him and things of that nature. First pitch comes from the kid on the mound and I just absolutely crush it. It was quite possibly the most majestic home run I ever hit. That sumbitch went FAR, especially by whiffleball standards. Next thing I know, Kyle's lifting up his shirt and pulling down his shorts in some sort display of humilation for eating his words. You kinda had to be there. Not long before, I think Albert Belle had gotten busted for a corked bat, so naturally I was being referred to as Albert Belle over the next several games.

[WSUCougar]

Originally Posted by Wolfpack

Next thing I know, Kyle's lifting up his shirt and pulling down his shorts in some sort display of humilation for eating his words.

Uh, yeah. Growing up in suburban Seattle, we didn't display humiliation in quite that way.

But good story.

[gkb]

So my wife gives me a call one day at work and tells me I need to buy some children's books for our newborn. I'm fine with that, but I've found that I'm unable to walk into a bookstore and just pick something up any longer. These days I have to go Amazon.com first and look at which books are the bestselling, which books have the most star ratings, and read a bunch of the user reviews.

So while checking out the books at Amazon to try and figure out which ones to buy for our little guy I run across this snippet of a review for "Guess How Much I Love You."

A minor concern: The characters are Little Nutbrown Hare and Big Nutbrown Hare. For those of us with mild dyslexia, it is too easy to refer to them as Little Brown Nut-Hair and Big Brown Nut-Hair, which is very different and considerably changes the tone of the story. I accept that this may be my personal problem, and I don't even believe it is appropriate to share it in in this format.

Needless to say this book was purchased and our son gets to enjoy the story of how much Little Brown Nut-Hair and Big Brown Nut-Hair love each other. My wife and I crack up every time we read it…maybe we're just easily amused.

[Logan]

Always fun to see a thread with a title like this, and the "you've posted in this thread" icon, and not have a clue what you posted...as you carefully scroll through the thread to find what the damage was.

[Schmidty]

Haha.

[WSUCougar]

Originally Posted by Logan

Always fun to see a thread with a title like this, and the "you've posted in this thread" icon, and not have a clue what you posted...as you carefully scroll through the thread to find what the damage was.

At least the "penis near-transplant" story wasn't yours...

[Chief Rum]

As a part time job, I work as a server at a TGIFriday's. We have to break anyone who is working more than six hours for a half hour. Well, one server last week was over her break time some 15 mins and some of us were complaining about it. One server suggested, "I think she went to Bed, Bath & Beyond", to which another server said, "She must be in Beyond."