Due to, ah, recent events I figured it would be good to make a thread about the most wild experiences you lot have had. Be they life threatening, drug induced, etc. I myself haven’t had very many, but there are a few people on his site who I think will have a few good ones to share.
Why the fuck would you tag everyone, you spamming faggot?
Didn't tag everyone, he forgot me. :’)
Tried that before, didn't work. Had to save up for the stuff with my basketball team, big waste.
Are you saying that I'm am a nut case?
That seems to be the general consensus so far.
My life's been pretty tame, and likewise the wildest experiences I've ever had will be pretty lax when compared to others' experiences, but what the hell? Here's probably the wildest experience I've ever had.
Back in my freshman year of high school my friend James and I would ditch every other week, steal a bottle of Jack Daniels from some supermarket, and get drunk in this abandoned building all day. One of these particular days he looked at me after we finished off the bottle and said "hit me as hard as you can". I was confused and asked why, and he just repeated his request, and I just thought 'fuck it' and socked him right in the face.
He laughed, then punched me in the face. And so, there we were, drunk as fuck in this abandoned building going to town on each other. Eventually we were done, and both of us had bloody noses and I had a black eye. I passed out not long after, and woke up a few hours later with the worst hangover of my life to find James gone. And so I walked two miles back to my house, with a raging headache due to the fight and the hangover, and when I got home I had to dodge a shitload of questions from my dad.
So yeah. That's all, folks.
EDIT: Fucking hell, he just tagged everyone, lmao.
Oh and the first time we did it we hadn't found the abandoned building yet, so we got drunk behind Walmart (where we stole it from) and got caught being drunk as fuck by the cops. They let us off with a warning and called our parents to pick us up.
A different time we also walked out of the store with a fucking gallon of Jim Beam in my backpack, and, I shit you not, there was not one, not two, not three, not even four, but five fucking cop cars in the parking lot. We thought we were fucked, but we managed to act natural and get the fuck outta dodge.
Testing out MDMA while online, seeing if my guy is good. So far, so good. Typing was impaired, but it's going ok. Danced a bit to blues brothers, sung along to this, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T2kOj-GFN8k, tried to watch porn to see if that myth is true but burst out laughing and had to stop. Super content right nwo.
Edit 1: Still going to will, succeeded in masturbation, dancing to the Cramps while making obscene crotch gestures now.
Edit 2: Night was a roaring success, left the house, wandered into the streets and found my mate, span off with him.
Okay, I'm starting off tame.
Let me set the scene: Ten years old. Taking a coding class (over the summer. Yes, I was a nerd). Small group, like ten kids. We had a four square court for recess, a main building with computers for game building, and a cafeteria. The cafeteria was separate from the leaning building, and contained the only bathroom.
On the very first day, I was having an okay time (There was this bitch who kept trying to roast me, I forgot his name but is was something stupid like Ferlolikins) and we were headed to the cafeteria for lunch. I had a packed lunch of grapes, a sandwich, and some other stuff I can't remember (this was awhile ago). Anyway, we sat down and ate. I started a convo about coding with some other kids, it was nice. But then...I had to take a piss.
One of the standard features of these bathrooms was a special light switch. It had on and off, but also an auto setting. The auto turned on the light for one minute so you could do your thing, and then turned off automatically. Ten year old Ultra was not aware of this.
I went into the bathroom, and hit the switch. I thought it was on, but it was auto. I started peeing...and went past one minute. When the light went out, it made a click sound, so I thought someone had come in and turned off the lights. Ten year old Ultra strongly believes he's going to get murdered, so he starts to freak out while peeing. Peed all over the walls, floor, etc. I ran out of the stall expecting to see the hamburglar or something, but no one was there. I washed my hands quickly and left the bathroom. Sat down with my friends, kept talking like nothing happened. I was terrified and on edge the rest of that day.
This is actually pretty funny.
My dad caught me smoking once, and almost made me eat the entire pack of cigarettes...
Also, once I was at school and found Molly in the bathroom... the drug, not my friend...
Whoa, I just found it in my system. Crazy times, right dude?
Your profile pic. had an update for the best.
Nah, I'm fifteen.
Well @Steve24833 miserably failed. I thought he’d have an experience or two to share, but he turned out to be boring.
This seems like libel. I am in no way intoxicated, clearly, that was a joke. I take offense at this.
I once deep trolled a place so much that I managed to get one of the admins to demote another one and promote me in his place where I eventually molded the site into an atmosphere that I prefer better.
Best of all, I don't even directly participate most of the time, I just manipulate all these other losers to do it for me. LOL
Figured I’d go ahead and say that everyone should feel free to participate. Not just those I tagged. Also, feel free to rage those I haven’t mentioned who you think have had some pretty crazy experiences.
Not surprised I wasn't tagged; my life is probably perceived as dull as paint. So I don't blame you. ;)
I only tagged everyone that was online at the time lol. I figured some new blood would be nice.
Meh, I'm not much for wild things. I'm pretty conservative when it comes to how I act. To prove how not wild I am, here's some of the most "wild" things I did.
I killed a chipmunk with a two-by-four. He was in our drain pipe and wouldn't come out, so after much shaking he fell into a garbage bag I was holding. My father swung the bag into a brick wall, but the stinker was still alive. We placed the bag on the ground, and I beat the crap out of him with the four feet of wood. He died.
I dropped out of high school because the school distinct I would've gone to was corrupt. The FBI were investigating them the next year. I believe half a million was stolen or something like that. I went to college instead.
I rode a public bus to that college. It also was a bus for people getting over addictions, so there were fun conversations there. One guy was saying he wasn't racist against Asians, but he hated Gary Johnson (a white guy and Libertarian nominee in 2016) though he didn't know if he was Asian because he's (according to him) Filipino.
At thirteen, I had a pet sitting business that was making 2k a year because rich people in Florida love their cats and dogs.
EDIT: I was tagged and that made me smile. :)
That asshole was stealing our peaches.
When I was like 7 I saw a squirrel trapped in a snake hole and I just filled the hole with dirt so it died. I was a little cocksucker back then.
I hate those Chipmunks they kept on ruining my kind home areas, So I say Let's killed them all!
What is wrong with you people.
But I guess maybe if you're around them a lot the novelty may wear off. We don't have chipmunks here tbf. We do have raccoons though, and fuck those things. They just randomly murder chickens for fun, they'll take out kittens if they get a chance, and you can't keep them out of anything. People who give them a pass for being cute are playing right into their evil little paws.
Yo raccoons are the best shut up
Stop watching south park they brainwash you too much
I honestly don't revel in killing chipmunks, but they were eating our stuff.
Coons on the other hand are abhorrent creatures from the pit of Hell. We've killed several of those suckers as well. :)
Also, my brothers have killed several. They and a bunch of squirrels were scarfing our chicken's food, so we had to protect our investments. I also know a guy from church who enjoys eating squirrels and doesn't understand why we don't eat the ones we kill.
Oh, my grandparents ate squirrel brains. My great grandparents had a pond with turtles in the back. Then, they'd make turtle soup. Heck, my mom ate them as well but it was mostly out of being dirt poor back then.
Y'all are weird.
Pot and kettle Ultra.
Poor + Rural = Very Interesting
Well if we’re talking about killing animals I’ve done my share there. Including...
Stepping on a toad. Essentially turning it into paste. (On accident of course)
Catching a toad and putting a firecracker in its mouth. We then proceeded to light it and toss the toad in the air which sprayed toad guts everywhere. (Not on accident)
I had to butcher some chickens via knife to the neck. They kept on pecking me, but the worst part was when their bodies kept spasming after I cut their heads off. (This was CLEARLY accidental as well)
Those were the major ones.
Ebon, I suggest putting their heads each into a large cone and have them be upside down. It calms them and being in an upside-down cone makes them not flop around as much. Slitting their throats is better. Hold their head back so their blood doesn't drip onto their face.
This way, the chicken doesn't act as frightened and doesn't flop around (which keeps the meat from being bruised).
That’s what we were doing actually. I just made it seem a little less tame on purpose. They kept pecking me when I was taking them out of the cage, but when I got them upside down it got easy.
I'm now thankful that I'm a vegetarian... I got pictures in my mind that I didn't want to see.
I've tasted meat before, it takes pretty darn good, but I just dislike the way how they harvest the food and where it comes from.
I eat earth worms, That's my kind of meat
Now I see the similarities between you and your username.
What do you mean? I didn't pick the name, My human slaves picked it for me
Alright... I'm beginning to get a little bit worried.
I know right? That's how I feel when the group will pick my user name on this website because of this weird experiment of theirs
Do you have any mental problems? I see why a mod took away three hundred points now...
He's been consistently claiming to be a bird throughout his posts.
Still not sure what to think of that, but your words sum it up for the most part.
I'm going to slowly back away now...
It's probably for the best.
Before you go weird badly draw a human person with black sunglasses that look like the agent from Mr.White and Mr.Black, Mine Explaining me to what is a Cuckoo's and also are you the one kept on taking away my points! Please and thank you.
It took me two or three reads to figure out what he was saying.
Translation for all that require it:
Before you go [insert description of dini's profile pic], mind explaining to me what a Cuckoo is? And are you the one that kept taking all of my points?
Thanks mate, I was trying to decipher what he was saying. It's like I'm speaking to a little child again...
I speak to little children quite often, and THEY make more sense. And those children age from 2 - 12.
Thank you. I was quite lost on that one myself.
A cuckoo is a term used to describe someone crazy and it is a type of bird... And no, I wasn't taking away your points. It was probably @EndMaster or some other person who has admin powers.
What the bloody hell? A Cuckoo?! Fine I just gonna tell you people what kind of species, I am. before you, nut cases say that he is a DodoBird that I'm not, by the way, My mother that I haven't even met and father that I also didn't meet because again I was given away very much when I was still in the egg, (What my human slaves tell me, When they added some kind of a blue liquid in my dish while I was eating)
They went on trying to give me a name to fix with my Species name with the Dove or Homing Pigeon. I am a Barbary Dove in my family tree, not a Rock Dove, Just a Barbary Dove Than afterward, They use the second part of the Scientific name "risoria" for my first name and right now my human slaves are on about what my middle name should be.
Oh, you're a dove. How delicious!
It turns my gut around making me wanna throw up, Somehow I just know it that part was coming sooner or later...
I still prefer to think of you as a patoo bird.
Not going to lie, but that looks delicious.
I think that you're a human being who needs to go to a mental asylum right away.
A cage in a much bigger cage, of walls made of pillows or stone that keep the mad in check?
That sounds great! At least no one will mess with me no more so there's a plus there
Uh... Sure, CrazyDoc. It sounds just nice. I know you do know your actually human, or else you couldn't type.
Anyway, my stories now. Not very wild, though, because I'm homeschooled.
I finally remembered what I wanted to write here, so I can post this. One night I was taking a shower after mom's friend said she thought ghosts were real. That scared me a bit, as I was 11 or something. But then I heard feet moving on the tiles outside of the shower curtain, and I froze. I looked towards the quiet noise without moving the curtain, and saw the silhouette of what I thought was a goblin. I stood there, frozen in fear for a while, no longer looking at the shadow, before I finally finished my shower. That was probably a hallucination from tiredness and nerves.
One time we were hiking on a steep mountain hiking trail with our late dachshunds. We made it to the end, then had to go back. It was late by then, and by the time we got close to the bottom, it was almost completely dark. I wanted to hurry and get home, so I jogged down. But after a few yards I tripped and knocked my knees on the hard rock. Mom came and asked if I was okay, but the pain shocked me to where I couldn't talk at the time. Mom spoke my name, worried, and by then I could talk again. I was okay, and we continued down, me a lot slower since my knees hurt. When we got home, I washed my knees off, and there was a ton of dirt stuck there with blood! Had bad scrapes and bruises... Clumsiness I got from my mom, so I get hurt all the time, but this is a memory I won't forget anytime soon. That was a few years ago.
There was one time I almost drowned, when we where at gramma and grandpa's old house. I was in the pool, and I think I was so where around 7. Dad was swimming next to me, making sure I stayed afloat. But then something happened, don't remember what, but I think maybe I wanted to swim faster, so maybe I pushed off of the side of the pool. Anyways, no matter how it happened, I ended up a few feet from dad, so he could no longer support me. Since I couldn't yet swim, I ended up under the water for a bit, and I remember being scared. Dad got me out of the water, though. Thing is, this little incident didn't cause me to not want to swim. I love water.
Well, there's my stories, and if I remember more I'll tell you, but I need to go to sleep now.
The funny part about past event's, that each time you remember them. The more lack of smell details be lost because of the brain delete/killed its cells in order for new information to stay in
Like if you write with your right hand and change to write with your left.
Beside's my good sir if you are saying that I can't type with my feet or metatarsus varus and my peak (Somethings)
god damn i wish you'd shut the fuck up
I never talked, Its call typing on a keyboard with my feet. you could call it dancing
bro shut the fuck up
... What? You make no sense.
Did you just call me 'sir'? If so, that's funny.
This was a lot wilder for my coworker, but I was involved and it happened rather recently so it's fresh in my mind.
I'm in charge of costume operations at a live theater. For this particular play we only had three showings, and about a week ago was our last one. We had record attendance for the first two showings and were slated to do equally well on the third.
We were set to start the show at 7:00 pm, but due to an unavoidable complication, we found out a few days before that the leading role and title character of the play would be unable to arrive at the theater until just before it started. It was too late to change the showtime, and at best, we thought we'd have five minutes between her arrival and the time she set foot onstage. She had her hair and makeup done in the car while she was driven to the theater and had worn tights and a camisole underneath her outfit the whole day. By breaking the speed limit they managed to get her to the theater by 6:50.
Since the house (audience section) was open, they had to pull up to the back of the theater, right by the dumpsters and the loading bay, to avoid being seen. It was freezing out there. The director himself, my assistant, and I were outside waiting to get her costume on and prep her to go onstage.
When they pulled up she practically jumped out of the car. I notified the stage manager inside that she had arrived via my earpiece and we quickly changed her out of her outfit, right outside by the dumpsters, having to be very careful as to not mess up her makeup or hair since there would be no time to fix it. We then had to change her into this really old dress that had proven difficult to put on even when we weren't on a time crunch. While we were helping her into the dress the producer gave me the time through my earpiece and asked if she needed to slow down ticket sales for late arrivals to provide an excuse as to why the show would start late. We finally got the dress on and I said that we'd be ready.
The director helped the actor mentally prepare herself as my assistant put a coat over the dress and I put on her pearls. I noticed she had an admission wristband on from where she had been and she tried to take it off, but it was too tight and wouldn't rip. My assistant ran back into the theater to find scissors, but I was worried we wouldn't have time. I looked around and found a sharp looking piece of wood on the concrete by the dumpster and together the actor and I managed to cut the band loose.
With her full costume on, the actor, the director, and I ran inside the building. By the time she got to her position on stage right it was 6:58: we had two minutes to spare. She caught her breath and went onstage right on time.
I can only imagine how stressful the experience must have been for her, especially with putting her makeup on while speeding down the highway, but I'm glad everything turned out amazing in the end!
Ha ha, that remind me of my (not as interesting) times before going on stage (as a musician). That poor actress though. She must've been so flustered during performance.
She was a bit, but you know what they say: the show must go on!
This halloween I was dressed as Hunter S. Thompson and absolutely fucked up. Ended up puking on the sidewalk. While I was retching this one dude walks by and compliments my costume so I give him this thumbs up lol
I should clarify it wasn't halloween proper it was like the saturday before
(WARNING: Drug use, fighting, kinda dark)
Oh man, where do I even start? I ain't starting tame, that's for sure. Can Australians even do tame? (Hint: No)
Well, I grew up in Townsville and Mackay- living there is wild enough, considering you have to deal with drug users, the occasional "Drug Lord" (the ones who call themselves that only do because they can have people come after you), street fighting, and near-corrupted schools. That's a shortened version of before I moved 4 years ago to somewhere much nicer. I love where I live now; I don't have to deal with any more wild adventures, which I'm thankful for cause I've had quite enough.
I'm gonna keep the more in-depth version as simple as I can:
The street fights were a quick way to get money- either by winning a fight, or betting. Whatever floats your boat. I stuck with betting since I'd rather not have to explain why I'm injured. What can I say? Some Australians *pointed look at the ones who do very, very illegal stuff* are tough as nails. Though my aunt says Tasmanians were worse, with the whole convicts and all that. (I'm blabbering on about history a bit, sorry).
I'm saying this once, and only once- Never do drugs. I never did them, but the people who did can turn into really nasty people. Funnily enough, I knew a druggie who was actually a nice chick; she was just in a bad place. Honestly, never judge a book by its cover. Some of them didn't choose to end up like that, and from personal experience not all of them are mean. Always be careful, though; they're good at manipulating and will stuff you up. Lovely, I know (the sarcasm is really strong, oops).
I don't particularly want to talk about corrupted schools, so I'll stick with: Most teachers don't care, and the students will not hesitate to throw around some really nasty words. Had a Prep kid call a teacher the C word.
There's probably more wild stories, but I can't be bothered making this any longer.
I mean, cunt is widely considered to be one of if not the most offensive words in the English language. Of course once you get used to saying it it's just another word. Or, if you live in Australia, it's just another word for mate.
Naw my life is pretty boring. The most wildest thing I've ever had happen was passing out while eating a twinkie and almost about choking on it. Wild.
Know what second thought I don't want to know...
Hmm I've had a few near death experiences: I've fallen off a cliff, been chased with a knife, locked up with no food or water, and had a gun to my head. I guess this one is the most 'wild,' though:
When I was five or six, my father left me at a friend's house so he could go sell drugs. The man he left me with was a father with twin boys around my age.I don't know where their mother was, but she wasn't there. The twin boys and I played in their room, and after a while one of the boys started stripping (idfk why, kids are weird.) I remember scream-laughing something like, "eww a weenie." Moments later, their father burst into the room and saw his son was naked with a girl. He left silently and came back super quickly with a gun. He held the barrel to my head and started yelling, calling me a seductress. The rest is kinda hazy, but I remember I got off with a belt beating and standing in the corner until my father got back.
Fucking Christ. That... That's all I can think of to describe that. Just 'fucking Christ'.
Uhhh shit happens
I mean. I have a lot of depressing stories, and some crazy stories from other people, but not really all that many wild ones. This is just sorta a mash of various stories that I think might meet the qualifications of wild.
There was that thing when I was about 9-ish I believe. Sorta half depressing and half wild. My sisters woke me up in the middle of the night and told me that we were leaving the next day. Apparently they'd been packing for several weeks now, without my dad knowing. They gave me the choice to either help them pack, or go wake up dad and stop it all now. Me, not knowing exactly what the faq was going on, helped them pack. We put everything in the garage. The next day, mom sent dad out to the store with a really long shopping list, and his car was parked on the street so he didn't see all the packed boxes and stuff.
My mom took us and drove for several hours straight, from colorado to oregon, to my grandparent's house. After my dad came back to the now half-empty house, he called us several times and started driving after us, leaving everything else behind. My mom was so scared.
My mom said that she finally made the decision to leave him after a particular event happened that she overheard. My little brother was bugging my dad again for something, sweets probably. He was often bribed to stay quiet and still with cookies. Dad was in the middle of a World Of Warcraft raid, and it's one of those major unspoken rules not to bug him during that. But my little brother did it anyway. Dad got pissed, stood up (twice as tall as us, being the 6'7" giant that he is), and threw the headphones down on his keyboard hard enough to break one of the two. "You're such horrible kids. Why can’t you just shut up and be quiet for once? Why don't you stick the gun to my head in shoot me now?" Despite how long it's been, I still remember that scene (especially the quote) rather clearly.
*My little brother has ADHD. He's recently started taking medication for it. So he pissed off dad a lot by being too loud or too active. Most of the time, our dad would lock us in the backyard for a few hours. Several times it was in triple digit head.
Hmm. What else...
Oh yeah, when I was about 6-ish, there were a number of things that happened that was kinda wild.
I was dancing around and messing about an old lightpole with a rusty electric box. Slipped and fell and cut open my right leg from an inch or two above the ankle to an inch or two below the knee, and you could see the bone and everything. My dad wrapped it up in ace bandages and said it was fine and that we didn't need to go to the doctor or anything.
And another time, mom asked me to bring her her purse, and being the little 6year old tyke I held it by the body of the purse and tripped over the strap, my head hitting onto the corner of a very sharp coffee table. Ended up having to go to the hospital for that one, got a few stitches.
More recently, I've started a cardio combatives class. Last week I believe, I got on the treadmill and within the first minute of running, my heart rate spiked up to 217 bpm and stayed there until I got off two seconds later and almost passed out. That's the worst my heart rate has ever been. Normally it only spikes up to about 190 within that first minute and stays there. (I'm getting checked out by a doc by that tomorrow, because my cardio teacher said that even if you're completely out of shape and in the worst possible condition, the heart rate shouldn't be going that high especially in the first minute)
For the combative part, I ended up punching stuff too hard and made my knuckles like seriously bleed. From the fourth finger on the right hand, there was a trail of blood that went down my wrist on both sides, off my other wrist which I was holding there to keep it from dripping onto the floor, and then it dripped onto the floor anyway. It opened up in writing class on two separate occasions and did the same thing. Wups.
Edit: I'm sorta offended that I wasn't tagged for this. I have some pretty damn good stories. If I think hard enough, I can prolly remember a few more wild ones. I've got all sorts of scars, just gotta remember where they came from and it'll probably be at least a minor wild story.
nah, you're a narc cunt. nobody's tagging you for shit
Yeah, and you're a bitch who can't seem to move on. Nobody asked for your opinion.
Jesus fuck, guess it's Roast the Fuck Outta CrashAndDive Day, lmao.
nobody's asking for yours either, that's why ebon didn't tag you
I'm not touching into that, No thank you Ms.
So you're a bitch in person as much as you are the internet? Noted.
Sorry for the late reply.
I am a very nervous, anxious person. I get scared easily. So people at haunted houses take it up a notch when scaring me, which is great with me, because I love being scared.
Every year, me and my Dad go to a haunted house called Hangman's House of Horrors. Well, it's not really a haunted house, more like three. I think how it works is you have a group that goes in the "main house", and while you wait for your group's turn, you go through two other "appetizer houses". And, as a bonus, there are people walking around outside the houses.
There's this one guy who walks around outside the houses, and in my opinion, he's the scariest person there. I call him Clay because he looks sort of like the gym leader Clay from Pokemon Black and White, but scarier, and he has a sledgehammer. He takes full advantages of how much of how much of a scaredy-baby I am and chases me around, and lately, I think he has been actively seeking me out.
So one year, he was chasing me, like usual, when I ran into a dead end. He marched up to me and said he wanted to take a picture with me, and that was why he was chasing me. So my Dad took a picture of us together, and I ran off. It seemed like we were friends now, and we wasn't going to chase me anymore.
We went through all the appetizer houses like usual, but then came the main house. In the very last room, there he was. Dad said "I think he wants us to follow him." So we followed him out of the house.
At the end of the main house, once you get outside, there are always people with chainsaws that you have to get past. He sent them after me and he stood back and watched, his face devoid of any emotion. I just stared at him in disbelief. He had betrayed me.
I finally gathered my courage and narrowly escaped them and jumped over the black tape that dictated my path like a weird ballerina. When I finally looked back, Clay shouted after me, "No, come back! You didn't go through right!" Hesitant, I slowly walked back, and then ran through again, this time not jumping over the black tape. I turned around and shouted, "I thought we were friends!" And he shouted "Are you back-sassing me?" He marched after me and I quickly ran away. After I lost him, my Dad stopped to buy me a t-shirt and I was paranoid as heck the whole time that he was still looking for me. We didn't see him after that, though.
And that was the best night of my life.
Probably my first manic episode. I was the avatar of an extra-universal entity who’d was essentially a deity of sorts. She’d guided the evolution of humanity so that we’d reach the point where we could get ourselves — and her — out of this shitty entropic universe, which she’d basically crash-landed into. But whatever medium we were using, we didn’t have enough space for everyone and her. She ended up having to cut herself down to “fit” — or to enable humanity to fit, because she wasn’t willing to abandon any of us.
And I was going to be the first to be uploaded... except it wasn’t going to work, and I was going to die. This was hard to accept, but I ultimately did, because it would enable them to get the tech right and save everyone else. Kind of a sci-fi spin on a Messianic delusion, I suppose... but at the time it felt entirely real.
I’ve had an assortment of delusional beliefs since, but I think that was the most “out there.”
That sounds like the plot of a bad sci-fi movie with spiritual elements.
Hang on, I'm pretty sure this is the first time I noticed this, and it's fucking horrifying. I assumed you were the panic attack, anxiety-filled mental breakdown type of crazy. This is a whole new type of bat shit crazy. I mean, this is Jim Jones level fucking insane.
I think it's my time to shine in some little light of yours truly past events,
I'm a year old, and by the way that's like 17 or 18 in bird years anyway moving along about before my slaves. Set me up on this website to write a story to see what the outcome gonna be and when I was done. They say you have some free time and so I hop up and down to show my pleasure towards their kindness and so two mocking about on random websites to learn or just have a good giggle at the dumb crazy stuff you humans pull off
About searching and looking at weird websites like spider porn, and I came across something that is a horror deep inside to my core, More than Snakes, Eagles, Cats, Etc Even that bloody hell spider porn that some guy show me on a group chat I was at. After shortly I block him
That Website was called LiveLeak.com and I click on the top video and I show a Human male I think? His or she's faced skin or I cloud say no skin at all as It's was red and burn mart's all over as the only skin I do see was the neck area and no ear's or I like to call them flippers as the eyes are brown as they were cover in blood as whatever this skinless face human is going through looks very painful as whiling still watching I see a human figure on the train tracks as I show the train came and the human figure trys to jump outta the way to go to safety but it was too late as it ran him or her as the only part you see them is their upper top body as the lower half looks like a piece of rag a towels got catch by a door half way as I bet his or her's bottom half of hers or his body is 100% flat and bloodly up as it didn't show the rest as its cut to a long hair with a large chest Is that a female or a male I say to myself not knowing what are human male's or females are as I was thinking about that thought some hits him or her on the face as I show the person's face turns into a yellow and purple as it was a hammer this person was useing as two hard hits in the person who was being hurt has force head trauma as like with the skinless human. this another human face was red all over the face and but the lips are bigger for some reason? But after the last hit, the video ends and I went back to sleep and call it for today.
To anyone who even remotely understood this, I request a translation.
he shit his pants browsing the main livleak videos like a normie and didn't dig deeper into the worse ones that take a bit of research.
Basically this, saw a snuff film I think and it scarred him for life.
Is English your first language?
I am a bird, not an English speaker or any other human tough user
Good job at getting all the lurkers to post, maybe they'll take this as the stepping stone into major contribution.
I had my wee wee touced when I was 11.
I skinned my foreman and knee going down a mountain when I was 8.
I damaged my head by running into a sharp corner of a fridge when I was younger.
I used to steal a lot from department stores when I was 7, until a group of kids confronted me during one theft that changed my attitude a bit.
fired a gun when I was 9, kinda got me hooked since.
and i dabble in vaping like a angsty teen.
No deppression stories, because deppression stories are for whores
Can confirm, a good chunk of my early memories were extremely painful blows to the head.
It seems to build character.
Actually, I often wonder how many really good writers are relatively free of traumas, whether directly or indirectly experienced. Then again, I have trouble imagining people in general who don't have traumas.
Also stop being a pussy and smoke cigarettes like a real angsty teen.
Are these experiences necessarily things we've DONE or did something to deserve, or can it be anything that is life-threatening, drug induced, etc?
I guess it can be anything. Bonus points if you have stories from your life though.
I would have to say the most wild time in my life was when I had meningitis. This time was crazy because for a while I couldn't tell dreams from reality. Technically I barely moved during this time, except to randomly thrash about when my dreams got really intense, or when I woke up not knowing where I was.
But let me back up a bit and start at the 'beginning'.
Back in 2007, when I was still married and still had friends, a bunch of us were sitting in my living room. Slowly my head started to hurt and the lights were getting bright and I had to shield my eyes. I found it harder and harder to focus.
Next thing I know, I'm waking up in the ICU at the hospital with no clue how I got there, scared out of my wits because I can't recognize anyone, and my only real memory was of having terrible dreams of being experimented on in a hospital (which didn't really happen, of course.)
My family tells me later that after I lost focus, I was acting pretty wild. For starters, I started yelling at the wall, even though nothing was there. I lost my faculty for language and sounded like a movie version of a cave-woman. What's worse, when they called the ambulence, they brought in the police, and I actually kicked a police officer. He wanted to taser me, but my mother wouldn't let him. Eventually they got me to the hospital, where they had to induce me into a coma.
I have no memory of those events. No matter how many times people tell the story, it's a big blank to me.
Anyhow, the hospital people call my family, and I calm down when they arrive. By this time I had been in the hospital for about a week. I end up spending another week in the hospital, during which my dreams are so vivid, that I have trouble defining what is real and what isn't. At one point I swear that I can hear angles singing, while my husband told me they were just crying babies. Also, something happens to my language center. I could think of words like 'existentially' but couldn't summon simple words like 'cat' or 'bed.'
At any rate, I eventually recover enough to go home, but my memory was never the same again.
Back in my senior year of high school I used to smoke pot like, a lot. My cousin picked up edibles because we were gonna be alone for the weekend as my family was in Vegas. So we get back to my place and he's like, yeah, you just gotta eat this quick. Gives me half of this fucking brownie without realizing it was my first edible. A few hours later it hits me while I'm in the middle of playing Dying Light and I just can't focus. I try to go to my room and I'm just laughing and for whatever reason I took my shirt off. It was a good time. Until five minutes later where it felt like I was having a heart attack. I got in my room, sat in a chair and my cousin put on Wilfred (this show with like, a guy in a dog suit. Shit's weird) and I just constantly rubbed my head because it felt like there were things swimming in my brain. It hurt so bad, haven't touched edibles since. I passed out at like, 12 and woke back up at 6.
Reminds me of my first time getting stoned off my ass. I was like, 13 or 14, and my friend John had a wildly irresponsible mom who would buy a shitload of pot and even let him smoke it. I thought it was pretty cool, but thinking back now I kinda feel bad that he had a mom who basically didn't give a shit about him and let him do whatever. Better stop this train of thought before it gets too depressing though.
Anyway, one day he called me up and told me to come to his house. I did, and what do I find? Him sitting on his couch, with a bag full of nugs and a pipe in hand, already smoking away. He tells me to sit down. Now, before that I had only ever smoked pot once, and that was just a hit from a joint a friend of mine had at a bus stop (we were the only two there, and that itself is another little story I should tell; you know, now that I think about it, I have more wild stories to tell than I thought I did, lmao), so seeing that much weed was like discovering Eden.
So I sit down, and when he passes me the pipe I take a hit. I cough like I have lung cancer, pass it back to him, and this continues until it's out. Then he reloads it, and we keep doing this for hours until eventually he runs out. He and his mom had ordered pizza before I got there and it got there a few minutes after we started smoking, could tell the pizza guy knew what we were doing but he didn't look like he gave a shit, haha.
So anyway once we're done it's like 8 at night and I am in another fucking universe. After hours of smoking, it finally hits me, and I fucking lose it. It feels like every time I breathe my ribs puncture my lungs and I start thinking I'm dying. John tells me to calm down, puts on some music, and not long after I'm out like a fucking light. Wake up in the morning and head back home, and I just tell my dad I ended up spending the night at a friend's house and it was all cool.
So yeah, there's Chris' first time getting high.
You smoked the entire bag? Lmao.
Yeah, we got fucked up.
Do you know what my kind do in the big or large Citys when we see you humans throw away your smokes we may very much fly over there to pick it up to help to build our nests, also for a good perk to come with it by using cigarettes as substitutes for fresh vegetation that drives away parasites. They measured the amount of cellulose acetate in them and us bird's like them because how easy they are to fix in our nests
are you off your meds again
I don't take meds, Black lugs I am a very healthy bird to let you know as for you in other hand have to fun killing yourself slowly
One time I met a guy on Discord who was an actual Ugandan warlord/cultist kinda guy. He went on a lot about his philosophies and made violent threats. Very fanatical about his cult, some sort of psuedo-theology. He claimed to contact and command his people by being in contact with a bunch of weird psuedo-egyptian animal-headed gods, like a toad, some sort of warrior figure that appeared to be a bloody red rodent, and a formless mother-goddess type that demanded sacrifice all the time, known only as "The Queen". Whenever we questioned him about us, he would say something along the lines of "I spit on you!" or "You do not know the way!" He seemed to get pretty angry with me on voice chat, to the point where all he would do was speak in Ugandan tongues and click at me until I stopped trying to argue with him. Eventually he stopped posting and I'm pretty sure it's because he bought into his own messianic hype and went kamikaze.
I did lean once. It was a good time. Never doing that again.
Lean is fun but I did it too much and got bored of it.
I worked as a Doorman (bouncer) in Newcastle city centre for 3 months. Then Sunderland on Derby day.
I have been:
Stabbed 3 times (Hooray for Stab-vests)
Hit in the head with a stilleto heel (the shoes, not the knife)
Thrown a coke'd up batman and robin duo out the back fire exit
And stabbed in the arm with a broken bottle (no stabvest for that, got a nice triangle of scars for it)
Need more deets?
Because the back of the head is the hardest part and also you should tell your friend that only works when you hit them between the eyes of the nose and plus depend on the speed and if you full it up with sand or not to give it more mass to knock out the target you trying to not knock out in the first place
Uhh... What is it now other humans, that you don't understand?
"Because the back of the head is the hardest part and also you should tell your friend that only works when you hit them between the eyes of the nose and plus depend on the speed and if you full it up with sand or not to give it more mass to knock out the target you trying to not knock out in the first place "
All of this please
What's that saying goes you make my blood boils because how easy you can set me in my rage state anyways back to your question shall we?
First things off when you get hit in the back of the head its call a "Concussion." meaning - temporary unconsciousness caused by a blow to the head. The term is also used -loosely- of the aftereffects such as confusion or temporary incapacity.
Take note when it says loosely because everyone that your planning on knocking depends on what your using and how big is the mass and speed of how fast the rate it is going to your target
So we are just gonna talk about an empty beer bottle for our tool of choice can it knock someone out?
Let's say we are going to knock out a boxer with a beer bottle and but first let's do some math to see what beer bottle we are using because they are many types of different beer bottle to use from
The empty can weighs 15g and the bottle weighs 170g, both hold 12 oz. of beer (355g, the material intensity of which can be neglected since it is the same for all three).
And!.... Wait a damn minute why I'm am explaining this to you humans anyways? A bird teaching you folks knocking people out just don't do it...
That was more than sufficient. Thank you. Also, what species of bird are you?
I don't want it to be sufficient for you, and I'm not telling you what kind of bird I'm am
I'll bet he's a potoo bird.
I'm am not those little shits is like calling a white guy your niggar and a white guy calling a black guy your my cracker
I'm just going to keep imagining that you're a potoo bird until you get your grammar and punctuation under control. It's horrifying enough that I can barely understand you.
Once you got that down to a point where most people can understand most of your posts, maybe I'll think about upgrading you to a booby.
Whatever you want, sad fool
Besides, the name I don't like. but that bird does get some rare colors for a bird of that time to have
Blue-footed Boobies are AWESOME!
Only the looks, The name, on the other hand, is like telling me that I am a stupid or childish person even tho I hatch outta my egg a year ago.
Plus those birds are kinda like Scotties birds in the highlands, Very nice and smell of a sense too much of the open sea salt waters on them but overall very nice lads to chat to
We need to start a thread to find out TheCrazyDoc's backstory. This guy seems like the important side character of a TV show.
I think you meant the side character everyone wants killed off, bout okay.
Think about it. The guy who's mentally disturbed, but knows some important piece to the plot? Maybe the antagonist brainwashed him in an attempt to keep the heroes at bay.
Who is mentally disturbed?
Scratch my earlier hypothesis, this man is the annoying little brother.
Thank you for introducing me to this wonderful piece of nature. I made my sister look it up, and her reaction was priceless! Thank you little potoo bird!
Yeah, pretty much. That was a pretty good little essay on concussions before he stopped and denied me the knowledge though.
Do you have a gun? (This is a trick question)
So how long how you been a Bouncer?
No (I live in the UK, and I'm not a farmer/near enough to a rifle range to be worth the effort obtaining a firearms license)
I'm not anymore, I've worked in Corporate Security for the last 2 years.
Actually, that makes me curious. I know that Canada has stricter gun laws than the US, and from what you're saying, the UK has stricter laws than the US also. So, between Canada and the UK, I wonder which of us has the strictest gun laws. :D
Simple to answer:
Handguns = No
Semi-automatics: Shotgun license, or smallbore (.22 rimfire) also on a firearms license
Fully automatics = No
Single action Rifles = Firearms License.
Firearms license requires you to have: Secure gun safe (Which the police will come round to inspect), reasonable need (IE Pest control for smallbore, Hunting (which has requirements I can't remember off the top of my head), Sporting (which requires you to be a member of a local shooting club/range) and I think there's a couple others). As well as being subject to an enhanced Criminal Record Background check/Disclosure and Barring Service check (I forget which).
Shotgun license is a little more relaxed, but still requires the police-inspected safe and a CRB check.
Do you live in King cross? Or even Manchester, Portland street. in the UK or maybe you live in the upper parts of the UK in the HighLands?
I've already said where I worked. One would assume I live reasonably nearby.
At first I thought of telling you guys about me tripping on acid and playing Skyrim, but it wouldn't be spectacular to anyone but myself.
Instead I'll tell you about this time I had a family of like four living with me at my house. Some backstory; the wife and hubby moved in from next door because they got evicted, and they were saving up for a new place. The hubby was a nice guy to me and my mother (albeit a convicted felon), but was trying to do best by his wife and kids, going to work everyday, paying for food, bills, etc. His wife was an adulterous person. While Mr. Felon was in jail, she had been messing around with a guy named... lets say Marv. Mr. Felon knew about Marv, but had animosity towards him for y'know fucking his wife and all.
Well one day, everything was going Gucci like the gang at my house, and suddenly Marv pulls up to the yard with a vase of flowers and trying to talk to Wifey (who was currently in the shower or something) and Mr. Felon got wind of it (he was supposed to be gone, but he got the day off of work.) Mr. Felon rushed outside (IN MY FRONT YARD) and started screaming at the guy and they start arguing, and Wifey ran outside to cool the situation down. Marv handed Wifey the vase of flowers and Mr. Felon promptly grabbed the vase and busted it over Marv's head, glass and water and pretty flowers bursting in my driveway. I'm standing on the porch watching this shit in shock (my girlfriend was supposed to be on the way at that). But then Marv IS STILL standing outside my house screaming and yelling and talking about how he was gonna call the police or something, so Mr. Felon ran inside my house and grabbed the shotgun me and mom had.
I shit you not, Mr. Felon loaded this gun and ran out midway into our yard and pointed the gun right at Marv, who I swore life flashed before his eyes. I thought I was about to witness a homocide. Mr. Felon pulled the trigger, and the gun exploded... and nothing happened. Marv, the car behind him, nothing was touched. I shit you not I saw flames come out of the gun.
Anyways, Marv called the police and Mr. Felon dipped through my backyard into the woods and was gone in minutes. Marv was standing right outside my driveway, and my girlfriend was on the way and I was getting aggravated because it was my girlfriend and I wanted to spend quality time with her since we had just got together. So I ran out there and started screaming at the top of my lungs at Marv telling him to get the fuck off of my property and he was a dumbass and was lucky he didn't get blasted away, and he just ignored me and I kept screaming and screaming and he finally pulled up the road to a different driveway.
Once he was gone I wanted to be so fresh and so clean for my girlfriend to show up so I was taking a shower and when I got out a few minutes later there were policemen outside and I was escorted out of my house buttnaked while they searched my house all SWATted up looking for Mr. Felon who had been long gone, meanwhile, my girlfriend had just showed up and saw this bizarre scene. Her sister freaked out and circled around like times.
Anyways, once it was all said and done nothing happened to Mr. Felon and my mom actually lied to the police and said she shot the gun off the back porch to deter the two from fighting, and no charges were pressed. Afterwards, Mr. Felon went back to prison on unrelated charges and Wifey got with Marv, which actually disappointed us all.
That's one bizarre experience I've been through, and there's quite a lot more since I do drugs and drugs change my perception on things and make them seem much more bizarre than they actually are.
Nobody gave two fucks about Marv, even the cops didn't seem to care he was almost murdered.
Wow. That sounds like something straight out of a TV show...
No this was one that I was with for seven months but she ended up making me really depressed so I broke up with her and then she started spreading massive rumors about me after I moved.
I'm calling bullshit, you've never had a girlfriend.
This thread is just sad now kinda
High school was never high unless you went there.
What is a school like anyway?
A place to learn about everything you didn't need to know.
But it helps with Jeopardy from the couch.
In my experience, chocolate cake is very rarely to hand in situations like that.
In fact, I think it's fair to say that chocolate cake is rarely to hand in most, if not all, situations.
Or a town with an overabundance of charity shops and bookies.
But I get your point.
Why was she clinging to a post in the first place.
I just wanted more context on the issue is all.
I think I must have missed that part, which is my bad.
I was once run over by a cyclist in Amsterdam while someone smoked pot nearby. (Revolting smell, got distracted.)
That's about as wild as it gets for me.
I don't know if this counts as 'wild' but it kinds scared me.
Back in the earlier years of my marriage, before things really started falling apart, my husband (currently my ex husband, but it will sound weird to call him that during the story's narrative) did a bit of security for a family friend (his side of the family). Now, this security was up in a zone where cell phones didn't work. He had a little trailer as an office, no weapons, no way to contact help, and he was supposed to be 'guarding' lumber equipment. Pretty much, he was only really empowered to wave his arms and 'shoo' away any potential problems.
But, we were low on money and he needed the work, so he did it.
One weekend, I went up to the trailer to stay with him. For the most part we just entertained ourselves and things were fine. A little before dusk, however, things got a little more tense. A group of drunk fellows show up, packed tightly into a truck, and making a whole bunch of noise. I think they were anywhere from 20-27 (I didn't really get a good look at them...) I was probably about 22-24 myself at this time. They get out and try to go up the trail to the hill where the lumber equipment is, so my husband leave the 'office' to do his job and dissuade the group from going there. For some reason they listen to him, and take off in their truck. But not before making some comment about his 'girl/woman' inside the trailer, proving that they know I'm inside. We think that's the end of it.
About half an hour, to an hour, later, they come back. They've hastily covered the front license plate (somehow forgetting to cover the rear one as well) with a piece of paper, and they sound even louder than before. Instead of stopping the truck on the road and getting out this time, they drive the truck UP the hill towards the equipment. Again my husband left the office to talk to them, but this time, it took him way out of my sight.
Minutes ticked onward. I didn't have a watch and we had no electronics, so I'm not sure how long he was actually gone. But my mind started to really go in the many directions of what might have happened. Eventually I hear the truck starting to come back down the hill, and as I look out the windows, I see no sign of my husband. Maybe I'd been watching too much television or something, but suddenly these guys seem completely sinister, and I become afraid. I bolt from the trailer and end up hiding in the shrubbery. I see the truck drive past me and away. As soon as I'm sure they're gone, I rush up the rest of the hill until I find my husband.
It turns out he's okay, but he couldn't stop them from vandalizing the equipment. Despite the fact that the men have driven off again, I'm still scared. I'm shaken up enough that after an hour of me wringing my hands, we pack up our things and go. Back then I wasn't as overweight as I am now, but I still had a really bad foot, so I kinda hobbled along. Anytime we heard a vehicle, I would start shaking again. By that time it's probably around 11:30 pm. My back was starting to hurt now, not to mention my feet, but I would not go back. It's really dark, since we're in a forest, and it's still a long way until we reach the gate.
Then a truck went by. I was alarmed at first, it was a different truck; this one only had two guys in it. They saw the two of us on foot and offered us a ride. We knew the old saying about accepting rides from strangers but 1) we were desperate and 2) we weren't children anymore. Besides, there was two of us, even though I would have been crap in a fight. Anyhow, we accepted the ride and climbed into the back of their truck. Oddly enough there were musical instrument cases back there, which I always suspected had rifles or fishing equipment in them and that they had been illegally fishing/hunting. But at that point, I sure as hell didn't care; these guys were giving us a ride.
Anyhow, we made it to the gate and got into the little office there, where there was a phone. I called my mother (who had just recently been re-married, by the way) and asked her to come get us. Despite the fact that we probably interrupted time between her and her new husband, she graciously drove all the way to come get us. Yay! So, everything ended up alright, and perhaps I had no reason to be afraid. But that doesn't mean I wasn't afraid.
Okay, so not EVERYTHING ended up alright. The vandals did enough damage for the costs to be up in the thousands somewhere. The guy who hired my husband was kinda steamed that his stuff was vandalized, and put the blame on my husband. Never mind the fact that he was one against many, with no phone and no weapon and no secret martial arts or super powers. Consequently, my husband quit his job after the next weekend.
This one time, I got crazy drunk and hooked up with a minor ^_^
Edit: ... Sorry, did I say minor? I meant miner. A guy who works in a mine. He was all dirty and covered in coal. It was weird.
You sure that it was miner, not minor? O-O
I suppose it could've been both. Kids are starting work so young these days.
Chris Hansen would like a word with you.
Not 100% sure that second part is true.
But whatever either way, I guess.
Two years ago I went for a good long run through the Polish forests. It was a beautiful, quiet and peaceful late afternoon. There was nothing but my rhythmic breath, sure footsteps and the uneven trail that punctured trough the countless pine trees. The air was mystical, so fresh and rich in flavor that you could practically taste it with each deep breath. On the way I encountered several shy deer, tracks of boars and most importantly not a single human soul. It felt like an eerie movie scene.
I enjoyed it so much in fact, that after a solid hour I got lost. Not that I minded it, but it was getting dark. Next up I heard a multiple of howls pierce the quiet in the distance, almost immediately followed by a bolting doe mere two meters from my surprised self. That really shook me up. Now I know that, unless desperate, wolves tend to avoid fully grown humans. But at that moment pure raw adrenaline kicked in.
It was like a switch. I felt truly alive. All the thoughts stopped and I truly lived in the moment like never before. All the colours were more vibrant, little details popped into vision. My hearing suddenly got sharper. Apart from the fresh pinewood smell, I started to sense other, more subtle things. The lactic buildup in my calves disappeared in the blink of an eye. I felt like a superman, ready to outsprint Usain Bolt and outlast Mo Farah. I was vigilant, ready for anything.
In the end I sadly did not catch any glimpse of the wolf pack, but the feeling stayed for another half an hour. By running to the nearest lake I managed to reorient myself. It was pitch dark when I arrived at my apartment, but the experience was worth the detour. Adrenaline is one hell of a drug.