Share your outragious stories

cymprenicympreni Posts: 9,609Registered Users Curl Neophyte
Whether they happened to you, or someone you know, or just something you heard. Who cares if they're completely true, imagined or grossly exaggerated. They're always fun to hear.

Here's one of mine:

When I was like 10ish. There were these neighbors who no one liked. They were very snobby, high-brow wanna-bes with obviously no class to back it up. They ended up not lasting long, moving out after about a year or so.

Well anyways I was walking down the street as the new neighbors were moving in. The new owner stopped me red faced and asked if I knew the old neighbors and how to get a hold of them. I said "sorta and no, why?" He said "because I'm going to kill them," as he ushered me into the house. I swear the walls, floors and ceiling were covered in crisco and peanut butter. And this was no small house either, and it had high ceilings!

No one could ever even imagine what possessed them to do something like that. Honestly I'm not sure if I want to know.

What are some of yours?


  • MichelleBFTMichelleBFT Posts: 4,812Registered Users
    My best friends just bought a house. The previous owner did an excellent job of clearing their possessions out... except for a cat food bowl (complete with food) in the laundry room, and a vibrator on the top shelf of the closet int he master bedroom.
    "And politically correct is the worst term, not just because it’s dismissive, but because it narrows down the whole social justice spectrum to this idea that it’s about being polite instead of about dismantling the oppressive social structure of power.
    Fun Fact: When you actively avoid being “PC,” you’re not being forward-thinking or unique. You’re buying into systems of oppression that have existed since before you were even born, and you’re keeping those systems in place."
  • FeedYourHeadFeedYourHead Posts: 248Registered Users Curl Connoisseur
    Here's one for the TMI department!

    It was about 15 years ago, and I'd applied for financial aid to go to graduate school at the University of Washington. Of course this meant lots and lots of paperwork. (I still wonder how many trees had to die just for the application!)

    Anyway, it appears that the UW lost a very important piece of paperwork...because I started getting nastygrams saying I needed to register for the draft! WTF?!

    After several weeks of this, I explained to a couple of financial aid officers over the phone that I wasn't required to register because I was female...but, apparently, they'd lost any proof they might have had of my gender! So I had to submit a statement in writing.

    But, having recently been to the doctor, I had a surprise of my own I wanted to give the Richard Cranium who'd misplaced my paperwork :evil1:

    Here's the statement I sent them:

    Dear Mr. Cranium,

    Under penalty of perjury, I declare that I am not required to register with Selective Service because I am female. I signed a declaration to this effect two months ago.

    However, I understand that sometimes paperwork gets lost and computer errors are made. Therefore, I am enclosing medical records that should leave no doubt as to my gender. (When was the last time YOU had a Pap smear, sir?)

    Please make the necessary corrections to my records as soon as possible. Thank you.


    A little over a week later, I got my financial aid offer letter. And let's just say I was paid VERY generously for my trouble. :wink:
    Name: FeedYourHead's Hair

    Description: 3A/3B/2C in the back, Botticelli, medium, thick, low porosity, modified CG since 2008

    Likes: Shea Moisture Manuka Honey & Mafura Oil sulfate-free shampoo; Curls Coconut Curlada conditioner; KCKT; LA Looks Extreme Sport Gel; coconut oil; honey; banana hair masks
    Dislikes: Silicones (:thumbdown:), Hairbrushes (:eek:) and harsh detergents (:protest:)
  • fpmonkee11fpmonkee11 Posts: 190Registered Users
    Okay, mine's true, and a little bit creepy.

    I was about 1 1/2 years old when my grandpa, whom us grandchildren called Popo, died. A few months after his death (which my entire family took really hard because they loved him so much) my family (aunts, uncles, parents and grandma) was visiting, and my grandma was sad. She was crying and my mom and her siblings were comforting her. My aunt was holding me and standing near the wall. In spanish (which I don't and didn't speak), my grandma said, "I just want to know that he's okay and that he's happy."
    Across the room, I pointed to a picture of my grandpa on the wall and said (in english) "Popo, happy happy!" Everyone freaked out. My mom still remembers it and told me that story a few months ago.
    She said I also told her about times when Popo visited my brother (who was born after he died, I was 2 years old).
  • tycho19tycho19 Posts: 805Registered Users
    This one is similar to fpmonkee's. My dad died when I was 25. I was 34 when my son was born. When my son was about 2.5, he had a real interest in maps of all kinds. So, one day when my DH was away for work, I was entertaining my son with the Atlas over dinner. We were looking at a world map and I was pointing out things, like "we live here", "this is Mexico", etc. Then I said, "and this is where my daddy came from"... my son started laughing and pointed right to Poland. Yes, that is where my dad was born.
    2B/2C wavy
    Don't Breed and Buy While Shelter Dogs Die - Adopt your next best friend!

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