I grew up in a very cold climate. Every summer, there was a pile of rocks for sale in the produce section at the grocery store. They were like $8 each. I always wondered what idiot was buying those stupid rocks.
Years later, after moving to a much warmer climate, I found out those rocks were actually avocados. After learning about all the delicious things I could make with them, I decided to try my hand at making spinach avocado dip. I had finally become one of those rock purchasing idiots.
There was only one problem. I had no idea how to infiltrate the rock. So I thought to myself, how does one break a rock? With a hammer, of course. A claw hammer? No way. Look at this thing. It’s impenetrable. It’s time to break out the giant ball peen hammer from my diesel mechanic days.
So I happily marched out to my garage, placed the rock on a baking sheet, and with the power of a thousand suns, brought the hammer of Thor down upon it.
The resulting mess was indescribable. I was not prepared for the shower of toothpaste-like goop that rained down upon every crevice my garage had to offer. My lawnmower, my tool boxes, my hair, even my car foolishly parked a mere six feet away… nothing was spared. I stood frozen, shocked at the scene I’d created out of nothing but sheer stupidity, absolutely marinating in avocado and regret.
It’s been months and I still find the odd bit of rotting avocado, just waiting to remind me that I should have just googled how to peel it. I never got to make that dip and at this point I’d rather just leave it to the experts at my local restaurants.
TLDR; Smashed an avocado with a hammer because I am an absolute moron.
EDIT- Just to clarify some things from the comments: 1. As funny as it is to picture a big dude doing this, I am in fact a small woman. 2. The avocado felt hard to the touch, so I didn’t bother thoroughly squeezing it because I didn’t know I was supposed to. 3. Today I learned there is a far less slippery way to infiltrate an avocado, and that is to cut it, rather than peel it. 4. The pit did not survive. It died along with my dignity. 5. Here’s the hammer, which I have now labeled appropriately (I hope this is allowed but if it’s not please let me know and I can remove it!): https://imgur.com/gallery/2ZxwPPd
Not that much of a fuck up, but I find it very funny and happened some time ago.
So, I (24m) was about to go on a date with a girl that was coming back to town for christmas. She studies abroad but we had been talking since last spring. I was chatting with a friend about it and told him I would get her some flowers, as she told me back in the day that she loved them and had never received them as a gift. My friend said he would be too embarrased to do likewise, and I told him 'it's not anything to be ashamed of, WHAT'S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN? That she does not like them and it gets a bit awkward?'. Just like that, I summoned the forces of the universe. I came back from a trip with some friends, as the date for the appointment was the next day. The flowers I was looking for were nowhere to be found in my town. I called 8 different shops and the last one told me that would get a delivery the next day, with the flowers of my liking. So, the next day, as I was going to get them, he called me saying that the delivery arrived in a very bad state and he would not sell me those flowers. So I had to go and look for the typical street shops that aren't announced on the internet. Finally found them, got a lovely bouquet and went on with my day, as the date was for the afternoon. One hour before the meeting hour, she texts me and announces that her dad has had some kind of problem with constructions at their place, and does not want to leave him alone (and that's the las thing I knew from her as she ghosted me). It felt bad, as we had beem chatting for some months, but not too bad, since I've dealt with similar situations in the past. So, here comes the TIFU: as the bouquet was somewhat expensive and a very beautiful one, I did not want to just dispose it, so I gave it to my mother instead, although it brought back some bitter memories. She was so happy that would not stop taking photos of it for 2 days. I felt super bad that she didnt know it was not for her in the first place, but thought that it would be over as soon as the flowers died. Well, she told me that there's no way she's getting rid of them, that she's drying the petals so she can have them forever displayed in a vase. So, those flowers will haunt me forever.
TLDR: Asked my friend 'whats the worst that could happen?' and it ended up being quite worse than I anticipated, which I found to be quite funny. Nevertheless, proved my point, and now some flowers will haunt me for all the forseeable future.
My brother (25m) is currently living with me (23f) because he’s going through a bad breakup and things just aren’t great for him at the moment, so I told him he can crash with me. Things have been going great! Until today at lunch time. I usually go home for lunch because my work is like 30 secs away from my house. I got home and opened the door (the front door opens right into the living room) to my brother doing the ahem on the couch with a toy. On the brand new couch! I made eye contact with things I shouldn’t have and immediately screamed sorry and shut the door. I waited outside until he opened the door letting me know it was safe to come in. I don’t know why he was home at that time but we had a very awkward lunch, no eye contact was made whatsoever. I think I need therapy after that.
Tl;dr walked in on my brother doing some self love and now I need to burn my eyes
So, I grew up in a place where it was always warm and we never needed the heat on in cars, we’d only use AC and sparingly because it uses a lot of fuel. And for months now, I've been driving around cold because I thought keeping the heater on would burn through my gas in the same way. I mean, I was trying to save money, you know?
But guess what? I just found out that using the heater in your car doesn't actually use up fuel. It's essentially free because it gets warmth from the engine! The fan uses the tiniest amount of energy, so you can stay warm without having to worry about burning through gas.
I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about this whole thing. I'm like, on one hand, I'm so happy that I can finally be warm in my car. But on the other hand, I can't help but feel a little dumb for not knowing this all along. I mean, when else in life does heating not cost money? I just assumed… 😭
TL;DR been driving around cold because I assumed heating uses fuel like AC, turns out it’s basically free
So this did actually happen today. For context I'm a highschool arts teacher.
Trying to inspire my students to explore more, I decided to run a 'lemon lesson' which essentially is an object study combined with an exploration of various media. "This is a lemon, you have 90 minutes to do as many different artistic things with this lemon as you can think of".
The students got off to a great start, some sketching, some taking rubbings, some cut up their lemon and looked at staining the paper with it. Then they started to try other things. Dipping the lemon in ink and using it as a stamp, using the juice to dilute water colour etc. Most popular was dipping the lemon in acrylic paint to create a printed pattern on their paper. However, after a little bit of time, the lemons started to smell. An eggy, sulphurous sort of smell that was most intense with lemons dipped in blue acrylic paint. I ended the session early, had already made sure that the room was properly ventilated (the zesty lemon smell was overwhelming to begin with), and bagged up the lemons to dispose of immediately after the class. I had the students clean their stations and wash their hands thoroughly.
I originally thought it might be the acid in the lemons breaking down something the students were using, but headed over to the chemistry rooms to ask what they think it might have been.
And this is where ifu. The current theory is that the acid in the lemons was breaking down a cobalt thiosulfate salt used as a dye in the blue paint into either sulfur dioxide or hydrogen sulfide - both highly toxic chemicals...
Luckily the students didn't show any signs of poisoning but the chemistry dpt are now testing the paint to double check.
Tldr: I just wanted a fun, quirky lesson for my students and instead nearly had them gas themselves with poisonous and toxic gas.
Due to a huge renovation and remodeling of my workplace I’m off work for a few weeks. I live together with my boyfriend of six years and we’ve planned a vacation in the upcoming week so I figured I might as well do an apartment deep clean while he’s at work before we leave for our two week long vacation. I’m doing a different room each day and today's task was the bedroom.
My boyfriend has a pillow he likes to either lay on or hug while he’s asleep. It’s like a decor pillow for sofas but softer with a dark red pillowcase. He has had it since he was 3 years old. It was the decor of his grandpa's living room and he stole it because he liked the feel of it. His grandpa said he can keep it. He has since passed away and it reminds my boyfriend of him.
I put the bedding in the washing machine and figured his cuddle pillow could use a wash. It smelled…. not like a pillow should smell and I don’t know when he washed it for the last time. I kept it in the pillowcase and put it in between our bedding so it doesn’t get pushed around too hard. I wanted to get rid of the smell and have it fresh.
So I open our washing machine back up and pull out his pillow. The case is still perfectly intact but the actual pillow feels weird so I open the case….
Just balls of cotton and some pieces of fabric. The entire pillow fell apart inside the pillowcase. It was too fragile even for the soft wash setting. It was over 23 years old and didn't survive a soft wash.
My boyfriend is coming back from work at noon today. I will have to admit it. I called my mom in panic and she said to buy a similar sized pillow, take out a bit of stuffing and put it back in the pillowcase, and just say you washed it.
But I don’t feel comfortable lying to his face.
TL;DR: I destroyed my boyfriends favourite pillow by washing it
Backstory—I’m unsure if this is common in other states, but in Maryland neighborhoods without an HOA, teams of door to door salesmen are occasionally dropped off in a van to sell various gimmicky items to residents. The salesmen are usually rehabilitated prisoners taking part in a work release program.
A few summers ago, I was out on my back deck having beers and doing some pressure washing. Between sprays, I started hearing this faint “hello?” coming from what sounded like the side of my house. From the deck, you can’t see any part of the street or the driveway. It occurred to me that it might be the FedEx guy or a neighbor, so I shut down the sprayer and peered my head around the corner and immediately locked eyes with a guy speed walking up my driveway. “Oh shit”, I thought to myself as I quickly identified who he was and what he wanted based strictly off his attire. They all typically wear the same thing—black pants, black work boots, and an untucked white dress shirt with a messy tie. Usually, when these salesmen are making their rounds, I have the opportunity to avoid the long-winded, persistent sales pitches just by not answering the door after I’ve looked out the window to see who it is. But this time I was stuck.
I appreciate that these guys are out trying to remedy their lives and reintegrate themselves into the workforce, so I make it a point to always be kind to them. But these products they sell are always garbage---overpriced vacuums, water purification systems, etc. It’s never anything that people actually want or need. Well, on this particular day, the guy who made his way back to my deck was selling an all-purpose spray cleaner in a plain white bottle and he was also carrying a bag that had a few samples of stained materials to demonstrate the efficacy of the products.
He noticed immediately that I was in the process of cleaning my deck and he quickly jumped at the opportunity to show me how effective his spray was on the deck stains and also the patio furniture. I patiently let him run through his entire sales pitch and, anxious to get back to work, I asked him the cost of his smallest bottle. It was $25 and probably the same chemical makeup of any regular household cleaner, but I knew he was just trying to make some money so I agreed to buy it. He let me know that they only accept checks, so I told him I needed to go inside to find a checkbook.
Earlier that summer, I had just completed a large 25’x25’ flagstone patio in the forest behind my deck. I outfitted it with string lighting, an arbor, patio furniture, a beer fridge, a smoker, and a grill. I was very proud of it and excited to show it to anyone who came by, so I suggested he go up the walkway and have a seat on the patio while I ran inside to get his money.
When I came back out, he was just hanging out and looking around. He complimented the set up several times after I handed him the check and I was excited to explain the process behind it. I reached in the beer fridge to pop open another beer and his eyes widened a bit. He said “Maaaan, I’d kill for one of those right about now in this heat.” I told him that, unless he had to get over to his next sale, he could have one before heading out. He had this huge smile on his face and accepted the offer. So I hand him a beer and this dude chugs the whole bottle. In one go. “Damn man, that hit the spot. You care if I get another?” I was kind of shocked that he asked for another one right away but I agreed. Same thing. Crushed the whole bottle at once. So at this point, I said to him “Hey man, don’t you need to head out and link back up with your group?” He just sort of chuckled, looked around, and said “You have anything for the grill?”
Now I’m almost instantly irritated because I feel like he has gone from getting my money, to drinking my beer, to expecting lunch. I launched into this tirade about how everyone knows these products are terrible but that we still buy them out of pity. How patient and generous it was of me to buy his product, knowing fully well that I’d never use it. How kind of me it was to offer him drinks while he lounged on the patio instead of sweating his ass off while walking door to door. And I finished up my rant with something along the lines of “…and now you seriously expect me to go inside and whip up something to cook for you. That is a ridiculous request and I need to get back to cleaning my deck.”
He just kind of sat there for a few seconds with this blank look on his face, stood up, and said “No man, do you have anything for the grill” while pointing at his mouth. “Like a mint or gum or something…so that my boss in the van doesn’t smell the beer.”
Horrified with myself, I went inside to get him an Altoid, which he quickly popped into his mouth. He thanked me for the purchase and jogged down the driveway to hop into the van waiting nearby.
TL;DR I tore into a poor salesman after confusing “grill” the mouth for “grill” the appliance.
First of all, a bit of context (sorry for the mistakes, my english is not perfect).
I (23F) work in an insurance company, not the best job in the world but I get along very well with most of my colleagues, some of whom have become friends like "Lisa" (27F).
We've been working together for a year and she knows just about everything about me...except for one thing that I've been hiding from absolutely everyone and which is a real burden for me : due to a neurological bladder problem, I have incontinence. No treatment has worked so far, so (sorry for the details) I have to wear diapers. I have been suffering from it for 2 years and still today it is a great source of anxiety for me, I am always afraid that someone might notice it.
Yesterday, after having a drink with Lisa and other colleagues, I receive a text from her:
"Hello! I think we switched bags by mistake on the way out of the bar, I noticed that this is your PC and not mine. So don't worry, I didn't search anything and we'll get them back tomorrow". (we all have the same bag with the company colors)
I immediately understand why she insists that she "didn't search" inside it : in my bag, apart from my work laptop, there are 2-3 spare diapers.
She who often makes fun (gently) of the fact that I go to the bathroom very often, she surely understands now that my situation is quite severe. I am so embarrassed that I don't even dare answer her.
TL;DR : I am incontinent, and on my way out of an afterwork, my colleague mistakenly took the bag in which my laptop is, but also my "protections"
Lol this is so stupid and happened today.
Any experienced thrifter could tell you which items were mass-produced in the 60’s (or whatever) because the same items turn up in about every thrift store, eventually. I’m a preschool teacher, and thrift most of the items for our classroom… shelves, trays, books, etc. I frequent the same major chain store almost weekly, as it’s around the corner from school and with a great home selection.
Several weeks ago I bought some glass cups for school, four cups each from two different sets. A few have broken, so we have five left. At some point in loading/unloading the school dishwasher, I realized the cups from each set I had just bought matched the cups of another class. I thought it was funny, but nothing more of it.
Yesterday my assistant pulled me aside to let me know the other teacher pulled her into the room, and told her to stop taking their dishes from the dishwasher, and took our cups away. My assistant felt so confused, but did not want to argue with a lead teacher. I told her not to worry, I would chat with the teacher tomorrow.
Today I go to explain the situation, and this other teacher immediately yells at me, telling me that there is no way I found the exact same cups, because she found them at Amvet’s over the summer. I told her she is welcome to keep the cups, and she continued to insist they are hers to begin with. They were so cheap I told her it was fine, I would get more. She told me there was no way I could have gotten the cups without taking them from her. She pulled them out and showed me every cup, with her name plastered in sharpie all over them. She said we’ll never be confused again now. I was shocked. I told her again I wasn’t lying, and don’t mind sharing the cups, I would buy more. She stormed out, went home, and got other glass cups she wasn’t using, then came back to school and shoved them at me. She told me not to take hers, which she purchased, for her children. Instead I could use these extras from her basement.
I was shocked. They were just plain small glass cups. It was four for like a dollar.
TL;DR I got the same thrifted cups as the teacher next door and she thinks I stole them from her. She’s super pissed.
Preface: Last night, I was woken up around 2 AM because I had to go pee and wasn't able to get back to sleep. My wife was also having trouble sleeping in bed, and so went to go sleep on the couch in the living room, hoping the change of scenery would help. I have the day off work due to the winter storm preventing everyone from safely driving in.
Fast forward to 7 AM. I still haven't been able to get to sleep, and now I'm dead tired (and starving!), so I decide to heat up some breakfast to eat. Maybe the warm food will help me pass out, who knows. My wife is successfully passed out on the couch (I'm jealous), so I quietly assemble some quick and easy breakfast sausages with cheese and heat them up in the microwave. I have to stop the microwave occasionally to rotate the sausages and make sure they heat evenly (Master chef skills! Ramsey is jealous of my technique). Every time I open or close the microwave door, I'm taking great care to do it quietly and checking to make sure my wife is still sleeping soundly. She is; she's usually a heavy sleeper, but it never hurts to tread carefully.
While the food is warming up, I go grab my phone and put my noise canceling earbuds in so I can enjoy a show while I eat without disturbing the wife. I stop the microwave perfectly at 1 second left (I knew those rhythm game skills would come in handy!), remove the food, close the door (softly!), check the wife (still asleep! Ninja skills success!), and settle down at the table to enjoy a nice meal.
Just as I'm about to take the first bite and press play, I am very rudely interrupted by none other than my very awake and very irate wife ripping one of my earbuds out and filling my ears with an ear-destroying high-pitched whine (no, not her voice). Apparently, some electronic device in our household has chosen this exact moment to start squealing out its dying throes, and now it's my job to find it and fix it. I take my other earbud out (Hey, great noise canceling though, huh? I didn't hear the whine at all! I love these shiny new buds!) and set it down to deal with this sudden threat to my family's aural safety.
"Unplug the microwave!" My wife yells. What? I didn't even know this thing had a plug we could reach without unscrewing it from the cabinetry. Where is it? "Behind the... stuff! Unplug it!!" Very helpful, dear. Use your words, please. "In the cabinet above it, behind the water filters!" Ah, there it is. I unplug it. The electronic banshee continues unabated. I plug the microwave back in. "What's making that noise‽ Find it, stop it!!"
A few moments' confused stumbling reveals that the battery backup for her computer setup is the offending complainer. I crawl under her desk, find the power button, and hold it down. Shh, no tears, only dreams now. The banshee moves on to the next plane of existence. Peace and quiet at last.
My wife, placated, stumbles off to bed to go back to sleep. I'm still dead tired too, but I'm also still dead hungry. I assume my sausages must have gotten cold whilst I vanquished the violater and I plop them back in the microwave (Add 30 seconds button, you're my best friend).
I go to find my earbuds again so I can watch my show. One is by the kitchen sink, where my wife put it. Where is the other? I can't find it. The microwave beeps. I can't find the other earbud. The microwave beeps again; breakfast is ready. Fine, I'll find the earbud later. I just want to eat.
I take the plate out of the microwave. On the plate, cuddled up right next to my juicy, cheesy sausages, is the other earbud.
I just microwaved my earbud.
Aftermath: It was hot to the touch, but otherwise visibly unblemished. After waiting for it to cool down and wiping it down, I tried them back on. They actually still work just fine for noise canceling, and the audio quality is still good, but the Bluetooth connection occasionally crackles and audio cuts out on the microwaved bud. No other issues so far. Do you think the warranty covers accidental microwaving?
TL;DR: Made breakfast with earbuds in, took buds out to go find and turn off a whining dying power supply, reheated breakfast, accidentally microwaved one of my new $300 earbuds.
I’ve had the worst day guys.
First I locked my keys in my car, so I called a tow company and they told me they’d arrive after my class was over. So after my class, I arrive back at my college apartment complex, but my car is missing. So my apartment complex towed my car because I forgot to put my parking pass in my window, which caused my original tow company to leave.
Then I had to travel 8 miles to the car lot on my e-scooter and I ended up going down a steep mountain at 20mph and fell off hitting my head and scraping my arms. Eventually, I made it to the car lot, paid $200 to get my car back, and then had to pay them an additional $60 for them to open my car so I could get my wallet. Finally, I get my car but the cellular service is down, so I had to drive around town searching for memorable landmarks and eventually found my way home.
But to top it off I missed my in-class quiz because I was scooting around town looking for my car. The day cannot get any worse. Now I’m bloodied, my head hurts, I’m low on money, and feeling completely helpless.
TL;DR: locked keys in car, car got towed, I fell of my scooter, got robbed by a car lot, and now I’m sitting in my dorm feeling miserable.
So, I live with my girlfriend and a roommate. We agreed to rotating chores and quickly discovered she would just not do any of them and we were doing all the household tasks. Talked to her multiple times about this, tried just cleaning up after ourselves.. all kinds of things to try to get her to clean, but she was fine with letting the place get gross. The only thing we've found that she will do is dishes. She doesn't do them well, but at least she'll do it without asking. So we gave up on the rest.
Moving on to today, she hasn't done dishes in almost a week, and she's finally gotten around it. Cool, whatever. While she's drying them, I go to grab something, to see she's using one of my hand towels, not that big of a deal, just a bit frustrating because they were expensive and I don't want them stained. Until I realize the one I had been using for a week wasn't where it was supposed to be. I asked her where she got the towel and she said there weren't any clean dish rags left. And apparently she does this whenever there aren't any immediately available dish towels. She's been doing dishes for months. She does this multiple times a month apparently.. worst part? We weren't even out of dish rags, she just didn't look. Maybe I shouldn't have asked, maybe I'm melodramatic but I can't stop thinking about it.
Tldr: roomie has been using used week old hand towels to wash dishes for months
S TIFU by buying a pack of toilet paper, leaving it on the roof of my car and drive around town for unknown length of time before it disappeared.
Today has been a shit show. I had to fast for 12 hours to do some blood work and was a bit late getting out of the house so I felt starved, I had no coffee and had hardly any sleep. After I finished my blood work around 1pm i headed to the grocery store to pick some stuff up for my wife. My wife sent me a text “grab some toilet paper, we are out.” I go inside, find enough toilet paper to last a month and some snacks cause I’m starving. I open the trunk of my car and it’s full of tools from work so I fit everything except the big bag of toilet paper, the cart was in the way of the back passenger door so I leave the toilet paper on the roof of the car and push the cart back to its stall. Being out of my mind I ended up leaving the toilet paper on the roof and got in and drove away. Here I was driving around town for God knows how long with a bag of toilet paper on my car. When I got home my wife asked me where the toilet paper was and I quickly realized I didn’t put it in the car. I retraced my steps and went looking for it but it was never found. I’m a fucking dumbass
TL;DR wife asked me to get toilet paper. I went to the grocery store to grab some only to leave it on the roof of my car and drive away. It disappeared.
Obligatory admission: this actually happened about 6 years ago.
I went on a family cruise to the Bahamas/Turks and Caicos a number of years back. It was my first and likely last cruise-- not for what I'm about to tell you, it's just not my scene. The whole thing felt like hanging out in a floating convention center.
Anyways, our third of fourth day in, my aunt and I decide to sign up for a snorkeling excursion to an area with some beautiful coral reef. We sign up for the beginners level course because we both had never snorkeled before. Further, I've never so much as swam in the open ocean.
The morning of the excursion rolls around and my aunt informs me she isn't feeling well. So I head down to the excursions desk to tell the tender I'll be flying solo.
No dice. The tender lets me know that the beginners excursion has a 2-person minimum and is waitlisted, so I'll have to give up my spot. This is a pretty huge bummer to me as it's the only thing I was really looking forward to on the cruise.
The tender then lets me know that advanced level course has openings for singles and isn't waitlisted. So I could switch to that if I wanted.
Now here's where I'm going to be a bit vulnerable with you and expose a couple of personal faults of mine. The first is that I often drastically overestimate my own abilities. The seconds is that I often drastically underestimate just how hard a particular thing is to do.
So, naturally, like the idiot I am, I tell the nice lady to sign me up.
"And you ARE an advanced level snorkeler, right sir?"
"...yes. I uhh... don't have any sort of documentation proving that, like, with me or anything..."
"Oh, no no-- we just ask. This excursion is for people who know what they're doing, are strong swimmers and don't require any sort of guidance."
Again... up until this point, I'd never been in any part of the ocean where my feet weren't touching the bottom.
So a couple more hours pass and it's time to head out. We now proceed into a series of signs which are practically screaming at me to go the fuck back.
First sign: both the beginners and intermediate excursions were cancelled due to conditions. It was incredibly breezy that day and the water had a pretty good chop going. But the advance class was still cleared for departure. We are, after all, old hats at this.
Second sign: as we're taking off, I look around and notice that there's like six people on this thing and... oh fuck... some of them had brought their own snorkel shit with them. There was a big bin of snorkel shit for us to use sitting on the deck-- but like 2/3rds of these maniacs had brought their own!
Third sign: the boat comes to a stop and the divemaster (?) rounds us up for a brief chat. I figure, alright, here's my opportunity to listen and get... ya know... the basics of how this shit works.
He just goes "Alright. Here we are. Please remember that in accordance with the laws in the Commonwealth of The Bahamas, it is an offense to touch or take any part of the coral reef or surrounding flora. I'm going in to see if I can find some spiny lobsters to make us a lunch on the way back. Have a great swim!"
I go over and pluck out a mask, snorkel and fins from the bin on the deck. As I'm fitting my mask, I notice it's a little snug. "Well of course it's tight, idiot-- that's how it keeps the water out!" I tell myself. As I'm fiddling with it, the dude that drove the boat spots me struggling.
"Hey man! That's a woman's mask, get a bigger one!"
Ah yes, I must be used to European sizes. I apologize.
So I watch as a couple people shimmy over the rail and into the water. Looks easy enough.
When it's my turn, I waddle up and throw a leg over-- and I can see for the first time just how choppy the water really is. I shake it off and gracelessly side-flop into the water, immediately beer-bonging a quart of crystal blue sea water straight down my gullet.
I get my shit together and dip my head under the surface... and I see one of the most magical things I've ever seen in my entire life. The dazzling spectacle of colors and life. Thousands of fish of every size and color going about their day, largely unconcerned with us. The way the sun ripped shimmering streaks of light across the ocean floor. It was like being on an entirely different world.
I was having a blast-- but I wasn't comfortable enough to go under the surface like everyone else was doing... so I just sorta bobbed around on the surface while looking down on the reef from above like a human glass-bottom boat.
This, as it turns out, was a fucking mistake.
You see, it's cool do to that when the surface is relatively calm-- but when there water is a little rough, you're sorta letting the water take the wheel.
I start noticing a very distinct lack of other swimmers near me... and then I hear a long horn blast from our boat. I pull my head up and notice, to my horror, that I've drifted off about 100 yards from the boat... and all the other swimmers, who stayed relatively close to the boat, are starting to climb back aboard.
Okay, don't panic, dude. You know how to swim. Just put one arm over the other and kick like hell. Besides... someone must've been keeping track of how many got off and how many are getting back on. They won't leave you.
So I set off. And it's like trying to swim in a fucking tumble dryer. It's nothing like swimming across the surface of a pool (duh) and I start to become acutely aware of just how exhausting this is. So I pull up after what seems like five straight minutes of hard swimming to catch my breath and get my bearings... and that's when I notice, to my horror, I have not gotten any appreciable distance closer to the boat.
Now I start to freak out. I harness that panic into a singular action: just keep swimming. But my mind's racing. I mean, I didn't see anyone with clipboard when we were all getting in-- what if they don't realize I'm still out here and they leave me? I mean, it could happen. They aren't exactly running a tight operation if they'd let some moron like me come out here and do this.
I glance up again... and again, I'm not anywhere near close to the boat. And this dread washes over me, like, I'm going to die because I'm an idiot. Again, I channel that fear into action and take off towards the boat. In my thrashing, one of my fins comes loose and falls off. I watch as it slowly sinks down towards to ocean floor and, the only thing I can think in that moment is-- of all the things that don't float, you wouldn't think snorkeling fins would be on that list.
I give one last look up-- and I see a beautiful sight, the boat has turned and is headed my way.
As they pull up, they throw a rope ladder over the side for me to board. I'm so exhausting from the 15-20 minutes I just spent treading water, that it takes every last bit of my strength to pull myself over with it-- but I manage. I just want to get aboard, eat some lobster on the way back to the ship and try to put that brief period of pants-shitting horror behind me.
But the day wasn't done punching.
As soon as the divemaster sees me, he goes "You're missing a fin."
And I look down at my feet stupidly and concur.
"You gotta get that fin, man."
"It came off and sank."
"Where'd you lose it?"
"Like... right around here."
"Oh, okay-- that's fine. Just jump back in and get it. I'm going to start cooking up these lobsters."
Now, he might as well be asking me to climb K2 at this point.
"Look man, I'll just pay for it."
"It's not that easy. It's illegal to pollute or leave rubbish in these waters. This is a protected area. Those fins have my company ID on them. If someone finds that fin and turns it in, my business can get fined up to $5,000. So we gotta get it."
At this point, I no longer care about keeping up appearances. I'm a fraud. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't be here. I legitimately just felt my life flash before my eyes. There's no way I'd be able to swim down there if I was fresh, let alone entirely spent as I was.
He looks at me with this mixture of shock and disgust-- which is fine, I deserve it. Without speaking, he turns to the guy driving the boat and motions for him to cut the engines-- then he grabs a mask and jumps over the side.
After 20 minutes, a couple of my fellow expert snorkelers join him in the hunt. Finally, after 45 excruciating minutes, they find it and come back aboard.
But how could this get worse, you might be asking? Well, the whole time they were down there looking for my wayward fin, the sky was darkening. Just as they were coming aboard, the storm let loose... drenching the little barbecue grill he'd setup to grill the lobsters.
"Guess it's your lucky day, fellas" he said, as he tossed the five massive lobsters back into the water.
It was a very wet, very bumpy, very hungry ride back to the ship. When we got there, I decided I would man-up and apologize to each person for ruining lunch as they got off-- and for their part, most of them were gracious and forgiving. Except the last guy, who told me to go fuck myself.
Fair enough. I earned that.
TL:DR-- I idiotically deluded myself into thinking I could snorkel in the open ocean with literally zero prior experience or instruction. Then I ruined everyone's lobster lunch when I couldn't retrieve my fin from the ocean floor.
So for reference, this didn't happen today or even recently. I was just reminded of it and thought it'd be fun to tell
(happened when I was14 m)
After doing well in hockey tournaments or to conclude the season, the coaches and parents all went to a certain bar near our home arena. This wasn't an ordinary bar - it was massive, had about 20 TVs, and 1 that took up the entire hall of the main room. In the main room, there were long tables spanning the hall so entire hockey teams could be seated together. It was kind of built just to house hockey teams in the area.
The parents generally stayed in the main hall, talking to each other and having a good time, but as many of you know it's hard for 14-year-old boys to sit still. There were a couple of great options. The part on the other side of the bar, there was a basketball court nearby and obviously, our beloved dart boards. This team had been together since we were 10 so by this point, nothing was new.
Our parents didn't care too much as long as we didn't bother other people and didn't get hurt.
Well, one day we decide on the great idea of darts and... trick shots. Surprisingly we're all still alive to this date. We sucked so badly at darts that we could barely hit the board. By adding the trick shots we hit the wall so many times that there were about 20 new holes in the wall. Fortunately, the bar didn't care because apparently, other hockey teams are also trash at darks - given there must've been a few hundred holes total.
We started with tame trick shots like using your left hand. I have very vague memories of someone standing in front of the board and another person throwing. Thankfully they didn't get hit and thankfully that idea got shut down after the first try.
But as it progressed we looked for increasingly unique ways to throw. Underhand, hail marries, etc. Until finally we get to under the legs. Originally it was football style allowing for more control but then we switched to raising one leg and throwing under. We felt so cool. Until that inevitable throw. It was my turn. And throw it under my leg I did. Or so I thought. We stared at the board waiting to hear the thunk as the dart hit the board. But it never came. Until one of my teammates looked down at my leg - pale as a ghost. And then I looked down. Sticking out was a dart sticking straight into my calf.
Apparently, I didn't lift my leg enough and I didn't feel it because it was so concentrated to a small area and I was so in shock (or maybe I was just really dumb and couldn't feel pain, who knows?).
As soon as I saw it a burning pain erupted in my leg. I sat down and it started to dribble blood before it got faster.
Alcohol wipes to sterilize it! What a great idea! My teammate stole some from the waitress booth while the waitress was gone.
Boy did I think I was going to die as the alcohol wipes touched my skin.
I don't know how long I stayed there but eventually, my parents came over and to not let them know I hurt myself doing something so stupid, I had to hide it and pretend I was ok. Distracted by some other parents, I managed to hobble over to the car - trying not to leave a trail of blood (I managed to hide it pretty well by tying napkins to my leg and with my parents distracted and me seemingly acting ok, I don't think they ever noticed. That or they pretended not to notice.
What a massive mistake - and I've not played darts since. There's still a mark on my leg the size of a pencil tip where the dart hit but it looks like a freckle (and given I have so many) without inspection I've been able to hide it ever since.
TL;DR bored at a bar my hockey friend's and I played dart trick shots and I ended up hitting my own leg with a dart
In my 8 years of going to the gym, tonight I fucked up.
Tonight instead of using the squat rack with the mounted pegs that hold the bar, I decided to use one of the ones with the pegs that you can detach and move up and down and mount them.
I was squatting 290 pounds including the bar.. there were guys behind me waiting for me to be done. I shouldn’t have rushed myself. When I was done and began racking only one side… when I turned around finally to unrack the other side.. bam. Loud noise in the gym, the bar is sideways on the ground.
I tried not to let the embarrassment get to me, maybe just play it off like it wasn’t my fault hahaha.. but I could’ve seriously fucking hurt someone really really bad. There were people near, there definitely was a possibility it could’ve happened.
Lesson learned. I can’t make an excuse; I genuinely just fucked up.
I was unracking the wrong side of the squat rack and it fell over sideways causing a huge bang in the gym.