That’s why I gave Wong the hearts. Everyone loves Goonies. Goonies never say die!
You, on the other hand, confuse the Goonies movie theatre vomit story with the Stand By Me pie eating contest vomit story, which was actually shown in the movie. NO <3’s for you!
Then the confessions thread would have scandalous posts from each of the underlings as they quit/fired from their positions.
Great story!
I shot a man in Reno once, just to watch him die.
Remember when I said I was officially medically diagnosed as Bipolar?
I was lying my ass off.
I went to Catholic school from 7th-12th grade. In 8th grade, my algebra teacher was a nun named Sister Maria. She was from Malta and she was very imposing - she would armwrestle all comers and occasionally lifted misbehavers from their desks by their ears. She wasn’t particularly fond of me because I was a fidgeter: messing with my pencil or flipping ahead in the book or anything else I could do to distract myself. She knew if I was goofing off without turning from the board, and every time it happened she would say “Gregory, stop playing” in her Maltese accent. I heard it almost daily for two years. It’s burned into my mind. She was also extremely devoted to the Virgin Mary.
One day before class, a couple of us were playing around waiting for her to arrive. A friend of mine and I were playing trash can basketball and neither of us could make a shot. I decided I’d try to arc one really high so he couldn’t block it. He jumped for it, and on his way up he hit the statue of Mary that was mounted above the can. It fell to the ground and shattered just as Sister Maria walked in the door. The class fell silent as my friend and I turned to face her. My stomach clenched. She just looked at us for a few seconds, pointed out the door and said flatly, “Go to the office”.
All we could talk about on the way was how dead we were. We got to the office and the secretary asked us why we were there. We said that we broke Sister Maria’s statue of Mary. She scowled at us and told us to sit and wait for the principal.
The principal came out after a few minutes, motioned for us to get up and said “follow me”. She took us down the hall and stopped at a door. My friend and I looked at each other nervously. We had expected a lecture and detentions at least, but couldn’t figure out why she was taking us to a secret room instead of dealing with us in her office. Then she opened the door and behind it was a closet, stacked floor to ceiling with boxes of statues of Mary. She pulled one from the stack, said “Here you go” and sent us on our way.
My friend and I barely made it out of the office before we fell apart laughing. It took us a good five minutes to compose ourselves before we went back to class, and I swear Sister Maria was smiling at us when we walked in the room with the box. I’ve never been so relieved in my life.
Man, I have about a million stories for this thread…
As I said before, I’d be dropped off at my grandparent’s house while my mom and dad were at work, and I’d spend the day playing with my cousin Rory. One “game” we’d like to play was Stunt Men. We’d pretend we were stuntmen, obviously, and run around doing things we thought stuntmen would do. We’d jump our bikes over things, or swordfight with sticks, or whatever. The best part, in my opinion, was when we’d go into my grandparent’s bedroom (the one from the piss story) and take my grandmothers wigs and bathrobes and put them on, then go out to perform. Yeah, we’d be riding our bikes around in old lady wigs and pink and baby blue bathrobes, with frilly collars. Awesome.
One particular day we’re home with just my grandfather. He had lost one leg below the knee in WW2. He was also diabetic, and I remember he’d keep his needles and insulin in the hollow of the fake leg he had. Anyway, he’s there in the house somewhere, and Rory and I are playing stuntmen. We were trying to come up with something we hadn’t yet done.
It was a two-story house and we were sitting upstairs, thinking. We’d already slid down the stairs in laundry baskets, so that was out. We decided to jump out the second story window. Now, we knew real stuntmen jumped from high places onto those puffy landing pad things, so we needed one of those. We went through every room of the house, grabbing pillows and chair cushions, and made a big pile of them underneath the backyard window. We go back upstairs, peer out the window and check the pile. Satisfied, we decide who’s gonna jump first.
Rory says he’ll go first, so I help him climb out and hang by the sill and then I tell him to wait while I run outside to watch. As fast as I can, I run to the backyard and get into good viewing position: about fifty feet back, so I can see the window and the pillows completely without having to move my head.
“Okay, jump!”
He just hangs there.
“Jump dude! Go!”
He’s having second thoughts. He looks down and sees the pillows, looks up at the window, and tries to crawl back in, but he can’t pull himself up.
“Come on! Just jump! It’ll be fine!”
At this point the neighbor Glen, another old dude, walks into his backyard for some reason. Glenn looks at me standing there and slowly follows my gaze up to Rory, dangling there from the window in all his wigged and bathrobed glory, kicking his little legs. There’s a moment of pause and then Glen runs off, presumably to find my grandfather.
“Hurry dude! There’s not much time! You have to jump before they get you!”
Seconds later, my one-legged grandfather comes rushing around the corner, sees me, sees Rory, then hobbles like a man possessed back to the front of the house.
“Would you jump! You pussy! He’s coming now! Hurry!”
Rory dangles there another second or two, and my grandfather appears in the window and pulls him in.
Our carefully laid plans were ruined! I couldn’t believe he didn’t jump. We’re stuntmen, for Christ’s sake! I was so frustrated I could have peed on him.
I don’t think my parents ever found out about that.
But I thought Clarence Thomas was still at the Supreme Court!?
I threw up on a girl’s face on new year’s eve 2000 as she leaned in to kiss me.
In 5th grade I set off a rocket engine in a classroom and blew off part of my thumb and caused the school to be evacuated.
We’re Catholics. We buy these things by the gross. Ha, ha. Wait till you see the room for storing the magnatized Saint Francis’s statues.
When I was in first grade, they had those Scholastic book order things. The popular book one month was an Empire Strikes Back pop-up book. Everyone wanted it. I didn’t order one (for whatever reason…can’t remember), but when they arrived I was very jealous of the kids that had one. So I told my teacher I had ordered one and that it must not have come. She said there was was one more book left over and she gave it to me. I took it home and my Mom asked me where I got it. I felt really bad and cracked. The next day I had to tell my teacher. That’s when she informed me that she had ordered that book for her son for Xmas, but she gave it to me when she thought they had messed up my order. I felt miserable, of course.
On the bright side, I didn’t steal after that.
Hey, I’ve got another one, from all of 10 minutes ago.
So I’m coming home from work today, and an older woman who would have been moderately hot 10 years ago holds the elevator for me. As I walk in, I say “thank you” and surreptitiously check out her tits, which are small and pancake-like. I get in the elevator, and she hits 14, the highest floor. Thinking nothing of it, I hit 5, for my floor, and she winces for some reason. Anyway, the elevator makes its way up to five, and she’s kinda nervous, fidgety, and I have no idea why. I figure she’s claustrophic. We reach five, and she gets out and heads right. I kinda wonder why she got off on 5 instead of 14. I also head right, because my apartment is that way. Walking right behind her, she’s really getting freaked, looking behind her to see if I’m still there, and it dawns on me that she thinks I’m a rapist or something. So as we get to my door, I purposely drop my keys and loudly go “DAMMIT!”… and she jumps, I shit you not, 10 feet in the air.
I’m still laughing.
I don’t understand, why would pressing 5 signal intent to rape? Wouldn’t you have more time to do the deed, or at least tie and gag her, if you’d left it at 14?
5 is totally like the international code-floor for elevator rapists.
That last story doesn’t make any sense.
No you see, she thought I was about to brutally sodomize, skin, tan, and make a delightful pair of patent leather loafers out of her so she hit the highest floor first, so I wouldn’t get off the elevator with her. But her apartment was on 5 too, thus the scowl and ensuing rapelarity.
I shaved today, too. I’m much less scary when clean shaven. Really, I’ve never been told I give off a rapist vibe at all. I’ve never even been to a fratparty.
Okay then.
She sounds like a paranoiac. You were right to mess with her.
You cad, stusser!
No, I don’t really think you’re a cad. I think you’re lucky. This happened to me once when I was working at night in mid-town, taking care of the plants in atriums like Trump Towers and various hotel lobbies. I was racing up a side street trying to get to my job site on time, when I notice this lady in front of me nervously glancing over her shoulder. She starts clutching her purse, but I didn’t put it all together that she thought I was a mugger until I was right up on her. As I got within 2 yards of her, she started digging inside her purse. Suddenly she stopped and spun around on me. I was so startled I gasped. She thrust her fist toward my face and I was this close to getting a mouthful of whatever she had in her hand (pepper spray, mace, something). At the last minute, she pulled up and apologized. I almost fucking wet myself.
Must be a big building then. Hard to imagine not knowing someone who lived on my floor. Kinda funny though.