Share a random funny story

[Bunion 2020]

Before I moved west to begin my career as a ski bum I was a Computer Operator in Indianapolis.

I worked on IBM Mainframe systems that had the incredible memory of 1 MB. I was working for a company doing DDA (Demand Deposit Accounting) and we helped process checks. We had just gotten to the advanced stage that we no longer used punch cards.



I worked with a crew of 4-5 other folks and our shift was Midnight to 8:00 am. It was pretty fun, there were no big wigs around, you didn't wear ties or suits, Blue Jeans and a button shirt was fine, we had a big stereo stashed away that we would drag out and set up and rock the whole computer room. The 2 systems with that incredible power took up about 7000 sq ft. The money wasn't bad but to augment my income I also handled some black market transactions of different types of consumables.

One Friday night about 9 O'clock I picked up 2 sheets of blotter paper with this little Mr Natural cartoon on them x 100. Being an good sort and not wanting to have to warranty the product, on the way in to work I tore one off and ate it. I arrived in the parking lot at work at 11:30 and thought, Hmmm, nothing much, better up the dosage and ate another.

Anyway, my part of the production work was to operate the console (lots of switches and blinking lights that never meant anything but looked really cool) and schedule and release and track the jobs. Other members hung tapes and ran printers and stuff.

I was killing it that night, the music was great and we were getting a lot done. Around 3:30 a big thunderstorm rolled through and unbeknownst to us a Tornado touched down a couple miles away. All of a sudden we lost all power and the system died and the emergency lights kicked on. With nothing much to do we wander outside to a great light show of sheet lightning and ground strikes. Never heard or saw the twister but did see the damage the next day.

Around 4:45 the power came back on and the A/C kicked back in and we were able to restart the system and go back to work. We were pretty far behind but me and Mr. Natural got back on a roll and by 7:45 we had everything done.

My boss came around and told everyone what a great job we had all done and how happy he was. Then he pulled me aside and reiterated the praise and asked me, " But why isn't there anything written down in the job logs for last night".

Guess you has to be there, but I thought it was funny.

[snoqpass]

I thought you were better than that. I knew the Brit was being his usual piece of shit as a person.

It was probably the public tantrums I've witnessed directed at friends and coworkers that makes me jaded. But you're probably right so I'll leave it at that

[wooley12]

[QUOTE=snoqpass;5131933...............[/QUOTE]

I was thinking that there is a time and a place, like Chair 2 or lor 4 or the magic carpet to tell folks your opinion about their kids behavior. Whatever.

[wooley12]

I was working the second shift in a factory and this young guy Roger was my fork lift driver. moving crates around to different work stations. Roger could be the 4th Hanson brother. Big kid with a mop of messy hair and Buddy Holly glasses. Always smiling and joking. Rides a Harley chopper and is going through the process of becoming a full member of the Iron Horsemen. Not the Hell's Angels but almost. So he comes into work one day and tells me that he just made it into the gang. Got his patches. And he just dropped acid in the parking lot. And maybe he shouldn't drive the lift. So I tell him I'll work around that and to find someplace in the factory to hide out and to please, please punch out at the right time. The next day Roger is gushing all over me like how I saved his job and was a good egg and I should let him buy me a beer after we quit work at 11 pm. Gives me the directions to some biker bar country road house out in the boonies. I mumble something about not seeing my wife all week and it was Friday and he say's to bring her along. So I go home to get my sweet young wife and tell her we're going out for beers with a guy from work. Well the place is packed with only Horsemen and their women. Roger calls us to a long table in back and wife sits between to giant bikers looking way uneasy but game as usual. I recall that Roger bought us beers and told me that he really appreciated my saving his job and that if I ever wanted to have anyone messed up to give him a call. "I wouldn't do it" he said "But I have brothers wake up every morning wondering who they are going to beat the shit out of before the day is over." I never called in the IOU. We lost touch. He's probably in jail or a half way house.

[WTF is dat]

Ok this story is from yesterday and it’s true and I think it is pretty good.

One of my best friends who now lives in Florida was in town this weekend, and he wanted to go to red rocks. He had tickets and I don’t really like deadmau5 but the show was sold out and I figured it would be dope. Anyhow I’m pregaming and had some beers, and I was running to catch the train when I fell and broke my foot in a sprinkler hole. I didn’t have my car, so some random person took pity on me and drove me 2 blocks to the hospital.

I got to hospital and doctor told me my cuboid was broken and gave me some Percocet. I knew I probably shouldn’t take the Percocet while drinking but my foot was killing me and I thought 1 or 2 would be ok. Doctor tells me I should be good to go to deadmau5 and puts it in a boot.

The painkillers start to hit me really heavy and I started feeling super fucked up. I take an Uber to red rocks and have to stop at willcall to get the tickets replaced for ADA accessible ones. This is actually kinda dope because now I get to sit in the very front row, where the press and media sit. The line is fucking massive at willcall so I end the Uber. It takes 20 minutes to get the tickets replaced and my phone dies. Can’t call an Uber, don’t know where the group I’m supposed to be meeting is.

Just by chance a friend of mine is driving by and picks me up and we find the group. Get in line for the show and the line takes an hour and my foot is fucking killing me. I am allowed into the very front row because I’m injured. Anyhow most of the night is fuzzy, but I know I got kicked out because I kept putting my crutches up on the air. Since I was in the front row I was in the live stream and it looked hilarious.

Phone is dead and I lose my friends. Can’t find them at the end of the night, don’t know wtf to do. Some random girls and their mother who are heading to my area give me a ride. I then invite one of the girls into my house and we hook up.

[wooley12]

A wild ride indeed. Guess we will just have to wait for the arbiter of what is and is not funny to chime in. Paging NW_skier to the front desk.

[Bunion 2020]

Another Indy story:

This was right after Frampton Comes Alive was released. He was big shit for a little while.

Anyway Indy was a regular stop on the Midwest concert circuit in the 70s/80s. Probably still is. Even though tickets were like $ 12.00 that seemed like a lot of coin. A friend and I stumbled on a novel idea. Go to the Liquor Store and tell em you are moving and ask for some boxes. Get a new looking empty case of whisky, empty box, and tell the security you are delivering backstage. Why it would work or that 2 of us were required never was questioned by us.

Rick (Friend) goes in, I wait in the car. Clerk is busy, says yeah, go ahead kid, they are in the back. Rick walks out the service door with a brand new, full case of Early Times. Puts it in the back seat and off we go to Market Square Arena to see Peter Frampton and Rick Derringer.

We park my 69 Gran Torino in a garage and amble over and brazen right past security and go backstage, they totally thought it made complete sense. The road crew was pretty busy but tolerant, we gave em 4 bottles and chilled. After a while Rick Derringer showed up and did his sound check. By then I was hitting the Early Times pretty good and got a tad festive. In a bit the doors opened and the crowd flowed in and we had good seat close to the stage. We passed our booty around to the folks near us and pretty soon were down to just 1 1/2 bottles. Rick and I kept swilling out of the open bottle although I was doing the most swilling.

Rick Derringer came out and played his set, the combination of youth, lack of food and ample supplies of sweet cheap Bourbon had me spinning about 3/4 of the way through the set. I needed air, stood up and took a walk to get some. When I came back into focus I was about 10 blocks north and 2-4 blocks east of the arena. Indy downtown was poor, black and a bit rough. Not much gang shit yet but there some angry brothers.

As I regained focus I was just walking along breathing and trying not to get sick. That is when I noticed my crew. There were probably 5-10 kids my age (17-20) and we are all walking and they were giving me some semi-good natured shit about being so tore up. Most of them, there were a couple that saw an opportunity and began asking the usual question about a wallet, cash etc. Me being a stupid white kid I was like, "oh no, here ya go, have this" and handed one of them a 3 gram chunk of really nice hash. Kid looked at it said something derogatory and tossed it. I about lost my shit laughing at him. That didn't go over very well.

About that time this black girl sidles over and quietly says, "White boy, you really need to get your ass out of here before it gets bad". That got through to me. To this day I hope she is alive and well.

I am by a street signal and it turns red, an Indy city Police Cruiser pulls up to the red light and stops. There is my chance and I take it. I darted away, ran up to the passenger door grabbed it, opened it and said to the cop as I climbed in. "Hey I need to get out of there, these ni$$ers are going to kick my ass".

The cop was black. His prisoner in the back seat was big, black, drunker than me and he said something like "Yeahhh"! He was a fan.

We argued back and forth for a minute, I told him I was placing myself under arrest or some such shit and off we drove. He was going to city lockup with the prisoner and that was next to Market Square. We stopped at a light next to the area, he looked at me and in a voice that spookily resembled Schwarzenegger in Terminator said, "Get Out".

I did. With no case of whisky to get past security I was outside for the duration. I tracked down my car and passed out until Rick found me. He to this day raves about how good the show was. Even Peter Frampton.

[pfluffenmeister]

Yesterday I had an interview for a promotion, right at the end of my shift.
It went really well; felt very casual, lasted about twenty minutes.
Maintained good eye contact, fair amount of gesticulation with the ol' hands.
I left feeling pretty positive about the whole thing as I typically don't interview very well, normally end up saying something stupid.
Go outside to leave and think ... "Whoa, it's a little breezy!".

I hope all the that gesticulation and prolonged eye contact distracted them from my open fly.

[babybear]

ha! at least perhaps you will stand out more for one reason or another. but also half the times my fly has been open and I noticed nobody else had so bet it went unnoticed. super classique tho [emoji23]


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[FLS]

Maybe no one noticed? Funny nonetheless.

Could be worse....Seinfeld... "He took, "it", out...

[Bruce Springskiin]

Went out on a rescue quite a few years back. Snowmobiles, at dusk on Togwottee Pass, I did not know the route into the scene well so had to keep up with my teammates. Moments from the parking lot, standing on the runners at full speed, I realize my fly is open. And at that speed and temp, it is more than just a breeze, feels like there is a block of ice in my pants. I try slowing enough to get it zipped, with one hand, but on rough trails it does not work, meanwhile my teammates are disappearing out of sight. So I had to find the right balance of sitting down, and half standing as far forward as possible to block the wind with the sled. By the time we had our first rendezvous 10-15 minuets later. I was genuinely concerned about my now numb parts. Luckily no long term damage. But I now check my fly before heading out on sleds.

A related but different story. Same area my first snowmobile training. Our group has game going. If you fall off your sled, you have to make back to touching the sled, before being tagged. Last person tagged buys the first round. Plenty of crashes and humorous tags and attempted dives for the sled in thigh deep powder. At The very end of the day, we are back on the trails, almost back to the parking lot. A couple of my teammates are riding this washboard like rhythm area just off the trail. Doing a decent job of getting the speed right to stay on top of the bumps. One of the guys gets bucked by a bump, full flip off the sled, to his feet right into a sprint to get back to his sled as the other guy is trying to reach out and tag him. He makes it just barely. Quite a sight to see.

[Beaver]

bout 1984 I owned a 73 Beetle. the floor was rusted out so i went to the dump and got a refrigerator door, cut a patch out of the door and pop riveted it to the bottom of the car. Fast forward a few months... a friend & I were on our way to the ski hill wearing all our ski clothes because the car had no heat, gloves, toques, goggles on the head with the windows open so the windshield would stay defrosted. it had snowed overnight and the road between Castlegar and Trail had a nice layer of slush on it. I'm 17yo so caution was not a thing. So I'm driving along and come up behind traffic driving what was probably a reasonable speed given the shit conditions and decide that I had to go, there was pow to be skied so I pull out to pass. I pulled out of the nice tracked slush free lane into the passing lane that had a few inches of slush and my front tires leave the ground and hydroplane on the slush. Not a problem, I'm 17 and fearless so I keep my foot in it. A couple seconds later the pop rivets at the front of the patch pop out creating a slush scoop to gather all the slush spraying up off my front tire. Well fuck me, suddenly the slush is pouring into my car between my feet, slamming up against the seat pedestal and creating a fountain of slush coming from the floor between my legs hitting the roof and exiting out the windows. I managed to keep my shit together and get back into the slush free lane after completing the pass and continued to the ski hill.

As I'm putting my boots on in the lodge a friend and his dad come up laughing their asses off, they were in one of the cars I passed as slush was pouring out the windows.

[Dee Hubbs]

A few summers ago at work in a bike shop, a well know old local who is visually impaired walks in with his dog. I recognize him right away and approach him by name and offer to help him. He tells me he’s looking for a new bike helmet.
I walk him to the bike helmet area and start explaining what we had and offering him some helmets to try on. He jokes that he doesn’t care what color they are, and makes light that he has slowly been loosing his eye site for over 5 years now.
One of the bimbo girls who know little about bikes and only really runs the cash and folds the shirts comes over and says how cute his dog is. The customer politely responds that “he’s a working dog” and she still bends over and pets him and rubs his head.
After deciding on a helmet I ask her to ring up the customer at the cash register.
At this point I walk away, or deal with another customer, and completely forget about the sale.
About a half hour later I’m near the cash area and the bimbo cashier asks me “did you know that guy was blind?”. I was like “ya”. She said “I didn’t realize it until the dog lead him out of the store” And she said something stupid like “that’s amazing”. Then she stared at me for 10 seconds and asked “how does he ride a bike if he’s blind?” I explained that he use to be a really good mountain biker and now he has a degenerative eye disease and has lost almost 100% of his site. And I explained that he now only rides a tandem bike on the back. She says “Ok” and then stairs at me for 10-15 seconds and I swear to god she says to me “how does the dog steer the bike?”
I thought I was going to burst a gut laughing so hard, she was dead serious and tried to change her story after she realized that what she had said was so stupid.
To this day when I tell this story to people and they think it’s a joke and that its too good to be real.
Every time I see a tandem bike or a seeing eye dog I chuckle.

[Meadow Skipper]

The last two were good.

[Ernest_Hemingway]

The other day I was sitting in front of Monet's water lillies, studying their power. Monet wanted his art to slow the viewer down. He painted in both space AND time and if you allowed them a few moments, his water lillies could pull you inside of them, as if you were floating on the water. On this afternoon it wasn't doing any of that, as tourists paced in front of the long canvasses, taking quick photographs before moving on to something else. I watched a Japanese man almost running across the room with his camera, taking pictures and looking at the panels through his viewfinder only.

"That is my son," said an elderly Japanese man at my elbow, gesturing at the cameraman, who was now busily pacing the opposite floor of the gallery. "He is a complete imbecile. We arent sure why, exactly. I didnt have him until I was in my 50s. And I lived after the war just a short train ride from Nagasaki."

I said nothing, trying to lose myself in the blues and greens of the nymphs. I tried to pretend I was Monet himself, at the edge of my pond with my easel. The elderly Japanese man continued.

"Perhaps my sperm is flawed," he said. "And my wife drank and smoked throughout her pregnancy, although by then there was plenty of published research to discourage both. We love him, of course. Maybe it's both our faults that he only has two passions in life - Monet and pornography."

I thought of Monet, laboring over these panels at Giverny, his eyesight failing, beset by demands and bills and government stooges. Monet knew many things. But I am sure he had no idea that one day I would be reflecting upon his genius while listening to an elderly Japanese man explain to me about his peculiar ejaculate.

[stuckathuntermtn]

I laughed. I cried.

[Rip'nStick]

So glad this wasn't a deepthroatmafia like thread, but more like the old "unsmart things done"



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[PB]

truly; please restrain DSM chemically or physically if necessary. Already related elsewhere, so just cliff notes: intimidated by indian prostitutes, I spent the night sleeping in a water buffalo pen.

[Conundrum]

Someone told me I should put this here too so I'm going to.

So, I was driving down an old gravel road the other day with deepsouthmafia riding shotgun and digitaldeath in the middle of my old ‘72 Ford three quarter ton. Riding bitch as we call it around here. Deepsouthmafia sees a sheep with its head caught in the fence and yells to me to stop the truck so he can help it.

I’m watching in the side review mirror as he runs down the fence line undoing his belt on the way. Before DD and I can hop out of the truck, his britches are around his ankles and he is fucking the shit out of this sheep.

DD and I are not sure what to do so we reluctantly stroll that way. We could tell he was just climaxing by the twinge in his right leg when he glanced over at DD and yelled “hey, digitaldeath, you want a turn?”

To this day, I still can’t believe digitaldeath went over and stuck his head in the fence.

[that dude who did that thing]

Youre saying DSM is Basque?

[babybear]

I didn't know where to put this random story but it made me laugh so hard
I was hiking with my friend and near the top we noticed her skis were hanging on her pack by a thread- literally
we had no idea how long they had been hanging on like that

[bagtagley]

An old friend and I have done accents since we were kids. In college, Braveheart kinda sparked it back up.

Random Saturday night in college. I roll into a buddy’s house to a slew of overdressed Jersey girls, there visiting his roommate, one of the girl’s brother. I barely get out a “sup” before he yells “Hey, it’s bags, the guy I’ve been talking about”. He leans in and informs me that I’m from Scotland and need to not make a liar out of him. He leans back with a huge smile on his face, and whispers with a shrug “ham it up”.

I spent the rest of the night entertaining these girls who were fascinated by my “accent” and my stories of life in Scotland. Since I’ve never actually been, I had to make a bunch of stuff up. I recall a rant about the historical inaccuracy of Braveheart, but the rest is a blur. Everywhere we go, buddy and I have to quickly apprise people of the situation. It was fun for a while but became kind of exhausting.

I was ready to roll, when one of the girls pulls me aside and says she’s always wanted to something something with a guy with an accent. We go back to dude’s house and start messing around. We’re at the do or don’t decision stage, when she stops me and tells me she has a long time boyfriend and she couldn’t do it. Still in character, I said, “you picked a hell of a time to get a guilty conscience”, then got dressed and left.

The next night, I heard from the brother that one of the other girls thought her friend had done me wrong, and that she was going to make it right. I couldn’t handle another night of that, so I avoided them. We used the guilty conscience line for months on everything. Stupid inside joke stuff, but funny as hell to us.