quote:

Karen, a Midwestern housewife, took her first trip to Las Vegas last year. She had done very well playing the slot machines, winning a bucket full of quarters. Karen needed a break, and she left the casino heading toward the elevators, taking her bucket with her.

She steps into the elevator and before the doors shut, four beefy, leather-clad African-American men step in. Karen (never having spent much time with African Americans) clutches her bucket close to her body.

One of the men says, "Hit the floor, lady," and she does: quarters fly everywhere. The men bust up laughing and they help Karen collect her winnings. One of the men explains that he meant for her to select her floor. They help her collect her quarters and the elevator arrives at her floor. She leaves embarrassed, and the men are still laughing.

Later that evening, a dozen roses are delivered to Karen's room. There is a one hundred dollar bill attached to each rose. The note attached read:
Thank you for the best laugh I've had in years!

Eddie Murphy

Nckdictator posted:

I stopped taking showers every day. I have stopped the religious scrubbing of my masculine body scent with the artificial chemical you call soap. Since then, my success with women has increased 400%. My intoxicating pheremones now fill the air around me, attracting women who long for a rugged, natural man.

duralict posted:

Thank goodness there was a man there to intervene.

WickedHate posted:

Found on tumblr:



1. Outrageous rear end in a top hat

2. Set up for a punchline

WickedHate posted:

Found on tumblr:



1. Outrageous rear end in a top hat

2. Set up for a punchline

WickedHate posted:

I have learned my lesson.

quote:

At a bar one night, there was a group of terribly drunk douchebags across from me, clearly talking poo poo about me. I’m a decently sized man, but ignored them and kept talking with my group. Apparently I made a notion in their direction or did something they didn’t like so one of them stood up, got in range of me, and threw an empty bottle of vodka in my direction. I didn’t even think, and caught the bottle by the neck, and dropped it. Then I walked up to him, punched him in the jaw, and went back to my group. It was all a split-decision reaction. I didn’t even realized what fully happened until my friend’s explained it. It was pretty surreal.

quote:

I was trying to find a place in an unfamiliar part of town. I saw a guy walking, who turned out to be homeless, and asked if he happened to know. The conversation went something like this:

Me: “Excuse me, do you know where (whatever the bars name was) is?”

Homeless guy: “Depends on how much you’re payin.”

Me: “I dont have any cash on me.”

Homeless guy: “Then go gently caress yourself”

Me: “I’ll have the trash men pickup your lifeless body in the morning after you starve to death.”

quote:

My girlfriend is a Christian and occasionally volunteers as a youth leader at the methodist church she grew up in. She knows that I am atheist and is somewhat okay with it. I usually go along with her to spend time with the kids and help clean up the place after open gyms and other events. The kids, who are all around 13, look up to me as another one of their youth leaders.

During some of the meetups, she holds a devotion, which ends up being moral lesson sprinkled with bible verses and the usual Jesus/God/devil talks. I’m slightly uncomfortable during the devotions, so I usually just let my girlfriend do her lesson and stay out of the way.

Last night, we held a “lock-in” for them, where they can freely do whatever they want inside the church from 8PM-8AM with a few scheduled events and a devotion. Around 6AM, when my girlfriend went to bed, the kids were becoming bored and started asking me questions about my life. It quickly became about my religious beliefs. I decided that I was going to be completely honest with them.

Girl: “So, you must be a devout Christian, being a youth leader and a good person to us!”

Me: “Well, actually, no. I don’t believe in a God, I’m an atheist.”

I really surprised myself. If I ever have to tell someone, I usually start out by saying “well, I don’t know what I believe..” and ease my way into telling them that I don’t believe in a god, probably because the fear of rejection.

All of the kids were looking at each other now, surprised. I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect next, but within a minute, they were all asking me questions. Two or three of the kids hesitated to say that they really didn’t believe in a god either, and the remaining eight or so had a lot of questions to ask.

I went on to tell them why I believe the way I do, trying to think of a good comparison for their age group. I exclaimed how younger kids believed in Santa for the same reason adults believe in God, except rather than determining the quality of presents, it’s where you’re going after you die. We find out that Santa is fake, but even though we have the same amount of physical proof for God as we do Santa, adults still believe in God.

We continued to talk for another hour or so, until it was time to go. The kids were amazed and even one of them told me they felt like they’ve been brainwashed by religion. One of the younger girls told me that her father beat her if she ever questioned Christianity, so she walked out after a while, but still thanked me for all of the answers.

My girlfriend doesn’t know yet. Not sure how she’ll react if she finds out, but she most likely won’t be happy with me.

quote:

I have a few stories but I don’t feel like writing them all out in one big sextravaganza post so here’s a few bulletpoints

On the night I lost my virginity, I was told (in a surprised voice) that it was the best sex they’ve ever had, period.
Have turned a self-described dominatrix into a sub through no real effort of my own (“I can’t be your dom, you need to be my dom”)
Dated a girl whose hobbies were playing guitar, giving me head, and playing more guitar (in that order, and she played a lot of guitar)
Given a massage that ended in a happy ending that was a triple orgasm (“oh gently caress I’m gonna—>it’s happening!—>OH MY gently caress IT’S HAPPENING AGA—>AAAAAAAAAAA”)


My absolute favorite and proudest moment was when I found out through a friend that a girl I graduated with (who I had a huge crush on when I was a shy high-schooler) talked about how she used to be interested in me. I bumped into her, we talked for a while, clicked pretty well, made out in a car, drove to my place, had sex, agreed to be each other’s booty-calls every once in a while, and then she made a full breakfast. She’d apparently been going to cooking school, and fed me as congratulations for “A Job Very Well Done”

quote:

It gets weirder - June 6th, 2012 - the one night I drew the shortstraw and worked The Other nine-to-five. Midnight. We get a cult coming in. Not Scientology. Not Snuggie-Wearers-Club. A full blown satanic deathcult - blood-red hooded robes, non-visible faces, black candles, latin-sounding chanting, the works. In the middle of the group was a hobo, looking seriously out of it, and sticking out like a sore thumb. One person comes to the front of the group, takes out a notepad and golf pencil, flips it open, and starts asking everyone what they want. Big Mac meals, Quarter Cheeses, Nuggets, et cetera. The rest of them start chanting, draw a pentagram on the table in salt, place black candles at the points and corners, and move to light them.

I step in.

I, the lowly McDonald’s Janitor, with the biggest poo poo-eating-grin on my face, step in and say “Sorry, no lit flames inside”, and point to the no smoking sign. They all turn to me, all at once, creepily-syncronized (They must’ve practiced this), and I swear I could feel their death-stares. Meanwhile, the hobo is starting to freak the gently caress out, and starts asking about “the goods”, and tugging on robes. The cultists ignore him, as if he’s not even there, talking only to give Orderguy their order, then resuming their deathstare.

I chuckle quietly to myself. I am not intimidated by this. Not at all.

I continue on with my job, and resume pushing a mop around, all the way being followed by deathstares. The hobo is increasingly freaking the gently caress out, being ignored, and they keep staring at me. When I went back to my closet to re-wet the mop, they stared at me until I went out of line of sight, then I heard them resume chanting. When I emerge from my closet, they immediately stop chanting, and syncronized-turn to face me and resume deathstaring.

So, Orderguy comes back with a bunch of food, they all get their burgers n nuggets, and leave, all the while staring at me. One of them flashes a metal something at me on the way out, and given that they’re cultists, I’d bet that shift’s pay that it was a ceremonial dagger.

I never saw them again, and I never saw that hobo again either.

quote:

I had a duplex a few years back, when I moved in all I thought was SCORE!! My neighbors where so fuckin hot, perfect large tits, nice rear end, they were just gorgeous (it was summer and they were going to the beach to layout, so they were in their bikinis). But then that night, well it was 4am, I woke up to the loudest hardest sex noises I have ever heard! Just screaming and moaning, and it went on for over an hour! I had no idea where it was coming from because I was hearing it from out my bedroom window, I thought it was coming from the large apartment right across from me, and there were too many windows to know which one, so I tried falling back asleep and finally I did. Anyways, the next day I was downstairs watching TV and it started again… except this time my kitchen cupboard doors were shaking and rattling! I was like holy poo poo… this time it only lasted a few minutes, all I could think of was I have fuckin super hot girls for neighbors and I will gently caress these woman one of these days. This went on for about a month, except it was never as loud or as rough as that first night time I heard the sex(I always felt really awkward bringing it up…). Over time I kept getting more and more suspicious, because there was never any noise from the guy(s)… I never heard guys over, nothing… until one day I put my ear up to wall(yes creepy as gently caress and I even felt weird doing it)… My two fuckin hot rear end neighbors were lesbians and loving their brains out just constantly! I thought it was kinda cool, but I thought about it and got annoyed about the whole situation… why in the world are there two sexy woman loving each other? They should be loving men(well, me), so I got a plan(to at least quiet them)… Being from Minnesota, we are all passive aggressive as gently caress, so I waited until they started having loud rough sex again… and I cranked my nice surround system up to near max… I was not playing music though, I was playing a recording of monkeys or gorillas( i don’t know what kind of fuckin primates they were), it was one of those recording of a monkey turf war, so it was just loud monkey noises… I did this until they stopped… then when they started again I played it again… this happened 2-3 times… never again did I hear them have sex.

Then a month later those pretentious fucks told my landlord on me because I had loud sex one night I brought a chick home from the bar and hosed her brains out…

quote:

Another time, I was serving a psychotic feminazi. I’m talking about the bra-less, arm-full-of-hair, moustache- toting superiority complexing nitwit who makes everybody wish for her swift and painful death. Anyways as soon as I started serving her she gave me crap because I’m a bloke. I just ignored her and zoned out a bit while she proceeded to remind me that a woman would do a better job than me.

Suddenly, the phone next to me rings. I pick it up and it’s the service manager.

Feminazi: Pfft, probably your manager telling you that you’re fired
Me: Hello?
SM: You do realise you have the right to refuse service to anybody?
Me: Do we now?
SM: Yeah. Oh I do mean anybody by the way. Such as a giant hermaphrodite that insults male employees for being male.
Me: *nods in a business-like manner, trying not to grin*. Okay thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.

Now I was good. I didn’t immediately tell her to go gently caress a dick instantly. I waited untill the next insult. Whether or not I sped up the process by “accidentally” pressing the wrong button is irrelevant!

Feminazi: AGAIN! You FOOL. Cant men do ANYTHING right?
Me: That’s it.
*voids transaction
Me: I’ve voided your transaction and I’ve been given permission to give you the royal boot. Get the hell outta my store.
Feminazi: You cant do that!
Me: Well…I cant physically throw you out. But that’s why I’ve got security to do such things for me.
Feminazi: You wouldn’t dare.
Me:
*calls for security to remove an unruly customer
Feminazi (whilst hurrying out the door): I’ll never shop here again!
Me (calling out to it): I’m counting on it.

I love it so much when we can get our own back.

WickedHate posted:

I didn't notice that it was posted by someone to another's page, and I'd never heard the joke before. My apologies.

FrozenVent posted:

The McD here have a security guard on premises at night, like 23:00 to 06:00 or whatever. It's a pretty safe suburb too so

Captain Bravo posted:

As long as you promise to never go that fast again, it's all cool.

()

quote:

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles roll
ed into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full.. The students responded with a unanimous ‘yes.’

The professor then produced two Beers from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand.The students laughed..

‘Now,’ said the professor as the laughter subsided, ‘I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things—-your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions—-and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.. The sand is everything else—-the small stuff.

‘If you put the sand into the jar first,’ he continued, ‘there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life.

If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.

Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and mow the lawn.

Take care of the golf balls first—-the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the Beer represented. The professor smiled and said, ‘I’m glad you asked.’ The Beer just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of Beers with a friend.

quote:

Stupid loving broads. All of this time I’ve been looking for a job and guess what—it’s because I’m not attractive enough for these vapid cunts. Also, female dominated HR departments? Are there any other kind? In my old job the skirts in HR were on coffee break AT LEAST 3 times a day meanwhile I was working my rear end off. I guess I have to tolerate them since I can’t imagine any broad working in finance with scary fractions and graphs!

The funny thing is that I’m the nicest guy in Berlin, yet I can’t get a job OR a date.

quote:

There I was at the park, playing Magic with some friends, when suddenly a wild gaggle of sporting jocks stumbled out of the local sports bar with their sorority skanks and started walking over. They said we were a bunch of silly nerds, and started to try and beat us up. Camly, I stood up and informed them I was a 9th level black belt, and whilst they wasted their high school years throwing a ball around and chasing skanks, I had hone my mind and body into a weapon capable of great destruction. I then challenged them to a battle of wits, a debate over Newtonian physics and relativity. Theory. Needless to say, their brows furrowed in anger, but they walked away. Everyone started clapping, and their women left them to tell me how brave I was. All my headmates cheered.

quote:

(There is a large anime convention at our hotel. During these conventions, many guests dress up as their favorite characters. Some even go all-out and will wear body paint or mascot suits, carry fake weapons, etc. Even during these conventions, non-convention goers stay in the hotel. I am working the front desk and am approached by a very angry guest.)

Me: “How may I help you today?”

Guest: “Kick these d***ed freaks out of this hotel! They’re disturbing my children!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am. The event is already going on, and all of these people have paid to attend.”

Guest: “They’re disturbing my children! They have weapons! They’re dangerous freaks!”

Me: “We wouldn’t allow real weapons on the convention floor. All weapons have been checked, and all of them are props. I can assure you that no one here will harm your children with their weapons.”

Guest: “You’re lying! You’re just covering up for this… cult! It’s a cult of dangerous freaks with weapons!”

Me: “Ma’am, there is no cult activity.”

Guest: “If it’s not a cult, then why are they painted grey? And why are they wearing devil horns? They’re the headmasters of the cult!” *motions to a nearby group in costume*

Me: “They’re in costumes. This is an anime convention. Many people dress up in costumes. That group is dressed up as characters from [popular webcomic]. They’re not a cult.”

Guest: “You’re lying! They’re a devil-worshipping cult! They’re going to wait until midnight, then sacrifice all the virgins to Satan!”

Me: “Actually, the only thing happening at midnight tonight is the convention’s dance.”

Guest: “A dance with the devil! You even admitted it! They’re a cult of devil-worshippers!”

Me: “I never said that.”

Guest: “And them, over there! In the animal costumes!” *motions to a group of people in mascot suits* “They’re going to perform strange sex acts on innocent people at the cult meeting tonight! How dare you let this happen?!”

Me: “Ma’am, if you would listen to me—”

(There is now a long line of people waiting to be helped behind her, most of whom look upset with the way this guest is talking.)

Guest: *turns around to the people in line* “Don’t check into this hotel! They let crazy cults of devil-worshippers bring weapons in to sacrifice virgins and then have sex!” *runs off*

Next Guest in line: “…Heh. Normal people are funny. Can I please have some extra towels?”

quote:

Walking up to the polling location, I passed several people who were passing out literature just outside of the 100 foot restricted area. Most of them were republican supporters. I kindly denied the lit. saying I already knew who I was voting for. One older guy in his mid 40’s was holding a handful of pamphlets for McCain/Palin and started to offer one to me. He must have noticed the shirt I was wearing because he quickly withdrew his offer and gave me a rude look.

On the way out I passed him again with a big smile on my face. He said “Didn’t your parents teach you about being an American?” as I walked past him. I turned around and smiled at him and wished him the best of luck. As I did this a group of about 10 people standing off to the side cheered and applauded as I unzipped my hoodie and showed off my Obama shirt.

quote:

I saw Ghostrider with a bunch of my friends on opening night just to heckle it. We even held a contest to see who could throw out the best heckle.

Apparently my friend had the same exact idea as me because as soon as Ghostrider first appeared we yelled out “HOW’D IT GET BURNED?” in our best Wicker Man impressions. The audience loving lost it and the rest of the movie turned into a MSTK riff fest.

quote:

My school had its annual blood drive, So I donated blood today and I got a free t-shirt. My school is always so fricken cold do I put my new t shirt over my shirt I was wearing at the time. Most of the people that know me don’t know I’m an atheist, because they don’t go around telling me they’re Christians or whatever so I don’t piss them off unnecessarily. So anyway I went back to class and I sit next to the biggest fundie I know, her name is lady ( not really but you know she probably didn’t want me to put this on the internet. ) however she is one of the rare people that I’ve told I’m an atheist, so when she saw me wearing my “I donated blood” shirt this conversation happened. Lady: I thought you were an atheists. Me: I am, what of it? Lady: you donated blood. Me: and? Lady: my parents said that atheists are evil and give nothing and don’t donate blood or money to charity. Me: that’s untrue. I give money all the time even to religious charities. ( I do rarely though mostly non religious ones) Lady: but… Me: but what. Lady: but… ( at this point she turns away from me kinda teary eyed, then five minuets later she turns back and says) Lady: I hope they lose your blood. I didn’t know what to say, I thought Christians were supposed to be friendly and all to people who donate.

quote:

Where i work we’re right on the shore of the bay, and theres a pile of rocks outside of a fence to where our cooling water pumps take suction. A woman from a cost-cutting consultant firm wanted to climb down the rocks to get a better view of the pump suction (how this would cut costs is beyond me, so i can only assume for curiosity). My father (who also works where i do) was touring her around the plant.

When she started to go, dad stopped her and said “i wouldnt go down there if i were you” and she started to go off on him about “What is it because im ma woman? that’s sexist! derpderpderp…etc” now dad’s not the type to take any bullshit. he said: “Listen. im stopping you because if you slip and fall in the water, or a rock slips from under you, I, nor will anyone here jump in there to come get you. Everyone who works here knows that it’s dangerous, and respects that. If you accuse me of having a sexist attitude again, you will be reported, and escorted off site immediately. do i make myself loving Clear?”

She came back over, head down, and went back into her office. Other consultants replaced her the next shift

I think it’s just as sexist to assume that someone’s doing or acting a certain way “because im a girl” or “because im black”.. thats the same loving thing IMO

quote:

This is my first post, and it will be difficult to write.

I’ve been reading the otherkin tag for a while and hearing a lot of things about how the worst things that otherkin have been through are being harassed on the internet. I wish that were true, but it isn’t.

I’m fae. I’ve known this for a long time, long before I even started using the internet. But that’s not what this post is about.

I have always been very shy and did not tell anyone about my identity for a very long time, until I was 13. I had just started high school (I skipped third grade) and met a boy in my English class. I’ll call him Ryan. He was very kind to me and we became friends. He truly was my first close friend. After a few months of friendship, I opened up to him and told him that I was fae. Ryan, in turn, told me that he was a therian and completely accepted my identity. I was absolutely thrilled. Here was the first true friend I had ever had, and not only did he accept me, but he understood me.

A bit later he invited me over to his house, which I had been to before. When I got there, however, there were three other men there, quite a bit older than I was. One was a junior at our school and two of them looked older and I think they might have been in their 20’s. I didn’t really know who they were, but I figured since I was with Ryan it would be okay, since he said I was his best friend and the only person he could talk to about being otherkin.

So we sat down and after a while one of the men said “So you’re the fairy, huh?” I was confused and hurt that Ryan had told these strangers about me. I didn’t know what to say, and they laughed and I became a bit scared. The way they looked at me frightened me, so I stood up and told Ryan that I should probably go. I tried to leave, but one of them grabbed me before I could leave the room and said “Let’s see how good the fairy fucks.”

I struggled and tried to escape, but they were too strong. They gang-raped me. All of them, including Ryan. They laughed and jeered at me and called me retarded and delusional for being so stupid to think that I was fae. One of them, while he was raping me, hissed “Am I crushing your wings right now, you fairy whore?”

They stopped abusing me for a while, and I curled up in a corner. They started mocking me. It turned out that once Ryan heard that I was fae, he found it hilarious and told these “friends” of his. They thought maybe they could “teach me a lesson” about not being stupid and “delusional” by abusing me. So Ryan lured me into trusting him by pretending to be otherkin. After a while they started abusing me again and did things that I don’t want to describe because I can’t.

When they finally let me go I could barely walk. They refused to drive me back to my house because “Aren’t you a fairy? Can’t you just fly home?”

I’m not writing this as a sob story. I’m writing this to show people that we’re not just “harassed on the internet”. I was raped because I’m otherkin.

I was raped because I’m otherkin.

I don’t know if anyone will read this, but I wanted to write it anyway, even if no one reads this. If you do, thank you for listening.

Nckdictator posted:

On one hand rape happens, on the other hand.. I can't imagine anyone talking like this.

Nckdictator posted:

On one hand rape happens, on the other hand.. I can't imagine anyone talking like this.

RagnarokAngel posted:

Ah the first "Learn the difference between a joke and a lie being passed off as real" of this thread.

Ratspeaker posted:

Can we add something about this to the OP? Something like "Was the person who wrote this trying to convince people that this is a thing that really, actually happened for real, or is it just a lovely joke? If it's obviously a joke, don't post it here." That along with greentext stories being fake seemed to pop up every other page on the old thread.

Nckdictator posted:

Guest: “You’re lying! You’re just covering up for this… cult! It’s a cult of dangerous freaks with weapons!”

Guest: *turns around to the people in line* “Don’t check into this hotel! They let crazy cults of devil-worshippers bring weapons in to sacrifice virgins and then have sex!” *runs off*

Nckdictator posted:

“Am I crushing your wings right now, you fairy whore?”

Nckdictator posted:

She came back over, head down, and went back into her office. Other consultants replaced her the next shift

Buggiezor posted:

My grandma who just started using facebook a month ago just shared this from some other random page. It's one I've read before several places including a "Forward this email to 20 friends"

quote:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kitchenette posted:

"I worked for a year in a very busy pub restaurant by the beach in the UK. Although we did a wide variety of meals, the restaurant was mostly famous for its fish meals; the most popular was our battered fish and chips (fries), using fresh-caught fish from the beach right outside the restaurant. One day a man and his wife came in. They ordered two jumbo cods with chips and a salad platter.

Now for some context; our jumbo fish meals were the biggest on the menu. You're talking a great hunk of battered and deep-fried fish that's over a foot long and weighs well over a pound, with a portion of chips that would make a McDonald's Supersize fries look like a Happy Meal portion. Seriously, I'd seen some man-mountains beaten by it in the past. This couple was...not exactly sylph-like, shall we say; the woman was smaller, so we thought she might not be able to handle all of it, but we figured the guy had a fighting chance as long as he didn't eat too much of the salad platter. So we cooked up two jumbo cod meals and a salad platter and took them out to the waiting couple.

When we put a jumbo cod meal in front of each of them, the guy looked indignant. "Why have you put the two jumbo cods on separate plates?" he snapped. "They're both for ME." He then tipped the jumbo cod meal we'd put in front of his wife onto his own plate, and pushed the salad platter towards her instead. "She's having the salad," he informed us, "because she needs to lose some weight."

And yes, he DID eat both of them. ALL OF THEM. Except for the salad garnish, because gently caress vegetables, apparently. Then he banned his wife from having dessert because he wasn't going to, and "if I can manage to restrain myself from being a pig after a perfectly good meal, so can you, dear."

bringmyfishback posted:

quote:

(There is a large anime convention at our hotel. During these conventions, many guests dress up as their favorite characters. Some even go all-out and will wear body paint or mascot suits, carry fake weapons, etc. Even during these conventions, non-convention goers stay in the hotel. I am working the front desk and am approached by a very angry guest.)

Me: “How may I help you today?”

Guest: “Kick these d***ed freaks out of this hotel! They’re disturbing my children!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am. The event is already going on, and all of these people have paid to attend.”

Guest: “They’re disturbing my children! They have weapons! They’re dangerous freaks!”

Me: “We wouldn’t allow real weapons on the convention floor. All weapons have been checked, and all of them are props. I can assure you that no one here will harm your children with their weapons.”

Guest: “You’re lying! You’re just covering up for this… cult! It’s a cult of dangerous freaks with weapons!”

Me: “Ma’am, there is no cult activity.”

Guest: “If it’s not a cult, then why are they painted grey? And why are they wearing devil horns? They’re the headmasters of the cult!” *motions to a nearby group in costume*

Me: “They’re in costumes. This is an anime convention. Many people dress up in costumes. That group is dressed up as characters from [popular webcomic]. They’re not a cult.”

Guest: “You’re lying! They’re a devil-worshipping cult! They’re going to wait until midnight, then sacrifice all the virgins to Satan!”

Me: “Actually, the only thing happening at midnight tonight is the convention’s dance.”

Guest: “A dance with the devil! You even admitted it! They’re a cult of devil-worshippers!”

Me: “I never said that.”

Guest: “And them, over there! In the animal costumes!” *motions to a group of people in mascot suits* “They’re going to perform strange sex acts on innocent people at the cult meeting tonight! How dare you let this happen?!”

Me: “Ma’am, if you would listen to me—”

(There is now a long line of people waiting to be helped behind her, most of whom look upset with the way this guest is talking.)

Guest: *turns around to the people in line* “Don’t check into this hotel! They let crazy cults of devil-worshippers bring weapons in to sacrifice virgins and then have sex!” *runs off*

Next Guest in line: “…Heh. Normal people are funny. Can I please have some extra towels?”

silencekit posted:

This loving guy! Is this from that guy that used to post all those bullshit stories about working at the hotel? I think maybe it was in an Ask/Tell thread four or five years ago. Every single loving mundane detail of working in his hotel, he spun it like he was Bruce Willis. I don't remember what happened to him. If this is the same guy, you got any other of his stories that clearly didn't happen?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turns out I had inadvertently saved the day by talking to Ahmed. What had happened was [NAME REMOVED] had been put in charge of waking everyone up at the hotel so they could catch the early flight out back to Houston. [NAME REMOVED] had gotten drunk the night before, slept in, and caused everyone to miss the early A.M. flight. This meant that if everything went on schedule they would barely make it to the meeting with Ahmed taking the next flight...and it had been delayed. Ahmed didn’t like to wait, and would have probably had left it hadn’t been for me talking to him in the interim. So the conversation went something like this:

VP: “HypeTelecon, what are you doing tonight?”

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

VP: “No you’re not. You’re going to go out with Ahmed.”

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

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

Me: “So...what exactly would I be doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

VP: “You’ll be given a company amex to take care of everything.”

Me: “SOLD.”

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

Me: “Dear diary, jackpot.” *CLICK*

So I went to his office, and he gave me a “corporate amex”. I was instructed to go get fitted for a suit since he knew nothing I owned would be good enough. What a jerkface! But it was true; I wore a polo-shirt and jeans to work every day. I didn’t really need a nice suit. Since the company was footing the bill for this, I decided I’d go with the classic tux. It’s truly amazing how fast you can be tailored for one of these things when you say you’re buying the thing outright, heh. Just say, "Charge it!"

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

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

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

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

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

Now it was time to party. We went from dance club to dance club, and lived it up like no tomorrow. We danced with amazingly hot (but extremely shallow) girls, had all kinds of alcohol, and just had an awesome time in general. When you have no limits on the funds, the party doesn’t stop. I wanted to see the look on the accountant’s face come Monday when they checked the bill. After lots of dancing and drinking, it was time to hit up the strip clubs. We bounced around from Gold Cup, Centerfolds, Colorado Bar and Grill, The Men’s Club, and finally decided to end the night at Treasures. It was almost 1am at this point, but again, show a “corporate amex” and they literally bend over for you...get it, bend over?

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

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

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

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

After all the fun and excitement had died down, I found myself resting between two naked strippers. They’re both sleeping soundly, probably dreaming of what they are going to both buy with tonight’s big score. I yawn, and then the phone rings. Who the gently caress would be calling my hotel room at 7 A.M. in the loving morning? Who the hell even knows this number?! Turns out it is Ahmed, he is bored and can’t sleep. I ask him how the hell he can be bored with two blondes lying naked in his bed. He tells me, “My dick is broke. I need something else to do while it recovers.” Then he asks me if there is some way we can play that video game I was going on about all night. Cue question mark over my head. Video game I was going on about? He says, “Yeah, you know, the one about the underwater city, and the crazy genetics. Bio-something or another?”

If there was ever a moment in my life when I felt like the biggest nerd ever, it would definitely be now. Apparently at one of the strip clubs, I had been going on about Bioshock to Ahmed and the strippers at our table. Ahmed had decided he wanted to see what all the fuss was about and wanted me to play it with him. I told him we would have to go somewhere and buy an Xbox360, and the game itself. He said he doesn’t care, and to meet him downstairs ASAP. So, I tell my lovely ladies me and Ahmed are going to run an errand. They say, “Ok, whatever,” stretch, yawn, and snuggle up with each other, boobs to boobs. loving HOT. So resisting the urge to dive between them and repeat what I was doing only hours earlier, I put my tux back on, and take the elevator downstairs.

I meet Ahmed in the lobby. He is still wearing the same thing he wore the night before too. A couple of real class acts right here folks. So we then pile in my car, and I try to think of a place where I can buy an xbox360 and the game Bioshock at 7:45 AM in the loving morning. GameStop is out, as those communists apparently don’t open until 9:00 AM or some poo poo. He gets upset, as again, he doesn’t like waiting, but then I tell him we could get it 100% for sure at Wal-Mart at this hour. He agrees, so I begin driving to the closet Wal-Mart in the area. Thank god for Garmin GPS.

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

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

I pause the game, and we get into a huge discussion about what we would do if we could create such a place in real life. I don’t know how long we had been going on about all this, but at some point the two blonde strippers woke up, and started laughing at us. We both look at them with a “What?!” look on our faces, they laugh harder and call us a bunch of nerds. Then Ahmed dives on top of them and says, “I’ll show you nerd.” I take that as cue to exit stage left and return to my room. I like the guy, but no way in hell I’m having a 4some with him. I return to my room with the sleeping wenches. They are still snuggled together, except now they are spooning each other. So I do what any normal man would, strip down to nothing and jump in bed with them.

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

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

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

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

Mr. VP of International Relations looked at me and said, “Wow, you made quite an impression on him. What exactly did you guys do this weekend?” I started to tell him of our adventures in debauchery, but he cut me off saying if I went any further he’d probably end up coming out with us next time and end up cheating on his wife, and that he couldn’t afford to do that since he had a daughter and some other yadda yadda yadda, whatever. Then he told me I had to report to accounting to go over every line item on the corporate amex I had used during the weekend. Oh goody. Let me tell you, confirming all of those charges while Jesus freak of a CPA read them all off to me was very pleasant. I kept waiting for her to bust out the holy water and crucifix and start beating me to death. But, I guess this was nothing out of the ordinary, nor the fact that I had rang up over $10,000 bucks in charges. No, nothing to see here, just move along and don’t stare.

So about once a month, Ahmed would fly in for the week to yammer over figures, find out what in god’s name his money was being spent on, and then of course we would party like crazy on the weekends. Mr. VP of International Relations took great care in keeping a tight lid on who knew it was actually me “entertaining” Ahmed while he was in town. God, that just sounds dirty, doesn’t it? But eventually a rumor broke out...I think it was after that one time we decided to party on Sunday night too and I showed up to work hammered, but it’s anyone’s guess really. The top level executives didn’t seem to give a flying gently caress about what was going on behind their backs as long as Ahmed kept sending those generous EFTs to their corporate bank account.

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

However, it turns out Ahmed found out I quit, and was very upset over this. He called me when he found out and wanted to know why. I told him my grievances and he agreed it was a lovely deal. He asked me if he should cancel his contract with the company. I laughed and said no, because then he wouldn’t be coming in town that much anymore and I wouldn’t get to see him when he did. I told him I’d still love to party with him when he was visiting, but unfortunately I wouldn’t have a corporate amex to foot our usually 5 figure bill. He said that wouldn’t be a problem, we’d party just the same and he’d send the bill directly to them. Wow. Party buddies four lyfe yo!

Then we got to talking about the whole Bioshock thing again. He asked me if I had secured another job yet. I told him no. He said, “Great! I want you to plan the underwater city. Every detail. I am looking for something new to invest in, and every time we meet, I can’t stop thinking that this could be the next big thing. Dubai has their underwater hotel, I want an underwater CTIY!” I asked him if he was joking, and he reassured me I wasn’t. I said I would get right on it.

Now goons, how in the hell do you even begin planning something like this? Are their companies that build poo poo underwater? I have no idea. How...I...duno. I could possibly have the chance at being a real Andrew Ryan here, but I have no loving clue how to plan this. Hell, I don’t even know the location I would pick out! Is there a “Dummies guide to building cities underwater” somewhere? Ahmed comes back into town on Feb 25th, which means I really have until the 29th (oh poo poo, just realized it was a leap year) to come up with something. If all else fails, I guess I could go to work for his international company, but building an underwater city seems way cooler.

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

Bloopsy posted:

I'm confused, and not because I leered at the dude in the story. Was he wearing women's clothing? Is he trans? Was he wearing men's clothing in a provocative fashion (whatever that is)? Also


LUSTROUS

Psycho Mantits posted:

This is an ancient example, but in case anyone hasn't read it, the Eddie Murphy "hit the floor" story:


I mention this story because my grandma's caregiver recently told us about how this happened to her in-laws back in the 80's. I didn't have the heart to tell her I knew she was bullshitting, because she's generally a pretty nice person. Anyone else have any STDH encounters in real life?

made of bees posted:

I don't get why people do this. I can understand being gullible and blindly passing on a made-up story, but assuming they believe the story to be true and want others to think it's true (which I guess isn't always the case) why would you consciously make up parts of it?