R1...Didn't Kathleen Turner lose her shit when Patty Hearst did that in "Serial Mom"?
I dated a guy to get even with a friend of his who dogged me.
The guy ended up falling in love with me and it turned out the friend and him weren't that close anyway and he could have cared less that we were together.
I hated breaking the guy's heart. He was nice and an innocent party.
$18 for Datalounge.
I went into the corn at night.
I tried to make "Fetch" happen
I black mailed the married guy that was doing me into paying my rent.
When I was in my late teens in New Jersey, my friend had a job working for a local bus company and he would scam us tickets on junkets to Atlantic City, the kind where you get back almost all the fare in quarter rolls. When we started doing it we weren't even old enough to gamble yet. So we would go down there when we were bored, walk around, use the quarters to buy junk food. We almost always had pot with us and a small bottle of Jack Daniels. Two teenage boys, no supervision, bombed out of their minds were bound to find trouble, so we always wore our best clothes, jackets, tie, dress shoes, because we thought it made us look older and less suspicious. The ruse must have worked because we got away some crazy shit.
One night in the winter we were there, walking up a side street towards the boardwalk. Up ahead of us was a food cart, but because it was so cold and windy, the cart and its attendant was in one of those plexiglass cubes, the kind where there really is no room for the attendant to move around and with only a small opening of a service window. I made a mad run towards the cart and as I passed it, threw into the opening a half filled large soda from McDonald's. The cup struck something a foot or two inside and its contents exploded, soaking everything inside, including the guy sitting in there. I didn't break stride once, made it up to the boardwalk and took a hard right where me and my partner in crime nearly had an aneurism from laughing so hard.
A few day later I realized that was a really horrible thing I did. It was cold as fuck that night, this guy, who probably was making next to nothing working this stinking cart in that stinking town didn't deserve it. I told my friend I felt bad about it and he admitted he was pretty shocked too. We decided to stay closer to home from now on. How much trouble could we get into out our parents house?
Partner in Crime was a nice guy. As far as we knew we were the only gay guys at our school. But he was kind of irresponsible and his family was borderline white trash. They lived in a rented townhouse in a subdivision that was already run down and eventually became Section 8. All the houses were two stories, attached and had a back patio area that was about 25 x 25 feet and enclosed in a tall privacy fence. A sliding glass door from the kitchen led to the patio. On his street, there was nothing but woods behind these patios as they were on the edge of the development.
One night in the late summer, we were there alone (his parents thought nothing of leaving him alone at night while they went out and got bombed at some cocktail lounge) drinking and burning in the kitchen. He mentions his mother wants him to clean out the refrigerator of any old food. There was a surprising amount in there. He then tells me that he has been throwing garbage over the fence into the yard of the woman two doors down, named Doris. Doris was one of the only people there who actually owned her unit, so she was already in a foul mood seeing her home value sink. She (and justifiably so) was always complaining and in everyone business. She really had it out for the guy who lived between her and my friend, Stan, a big fat slob who would take his motorcycle apart on the front lawns. Whenever Doris would find garbage in her patio she blamed Stan.
Standing on his patio, Partner in Crime flung first a congealed pork chop, then two brittle ears of corn, all aiming for the top of the open patio umbrella. They would hit the umbrella, comically bounce off and spin in the air and land silently somewhere unseen behind the fence. We were down to the last item, and he balked. "I don't know, that's pretty big. It could break something." It was a barely consumed head of lettuce, wrapped in two clear plastic produce bags. I couldn't tell you how old it was, but from the feel of it, I could tell there was in the center a core of solid vegetable matter, but that was encased in a green and black gelatinous ooze. It was certainly a lot heavier than anything he had thrown so far. "I dont think there's going to be a problem" I said. Starting with it behind my back, and with all the force I could put into it, I sent it speeding over Stan's patio where it squarely hit Doris's umbrella. It knocked it a kilter before ricocheted towards the house and disappeared from sight. There was a crash and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the putrefied lettuce had gone through her sliding screen door and into her house. Ducking down so we could just peer over the wall, we saw the light go on and then heard a blood curdling scream. Crawling back into the house on hands and knees, we turned off all the lights and sat in the dark in petrified silence. We went into near panic when a few minutes later, the tell tale signal of bright blue and red flashing lights could be seen coming thru the front room windows. The police never came to the door, seeing the house was dark and no car in its designated parking space. We could over hear them questioning Stan, who worked the early morning shift at a Wonderbread bakery was pissed off at being woken up hours before he needed to be. We later learned the lettuce did indeed go through the screen and managed to break some glasses that were on a counter top. Doris, coming into the kitchen in her bare-feet to investigate stepped on the broken glass and had to go to the hospital and get stitches. The police came back the next day and questioned my friends parents. They, not having any clue about our involvement and not eager to let then police know they left their minor child alone while they were out drinking, told the police they and there son were out to dinner at that time.
Those are probably the two worse things we did, although there were tons of incidents that when I look back at it, I say to myself, "My god! We could have been arrested or killed or caused an accident" We were the text book case of teenage boys/young men who feel indestructible and have a ready supply of drugs and alcohol at hand. The spring after I sent his neighbor to the ER, Partner in Crime dropped out of school and we saw less and less of each other. My trouble making days were pretty much over after that.
R22/R23 Thanks. Amazingly descriptive stories that make my worst thing pale in comparison -- I shoplifted "The Joy of Gay Sex" when I was 17.
R24, I shoplifted a copy of 'Jock' magazine (a gay j/o mag, 1st time I ever saw erections) when I was 15. I must have been crazy. Absolutely crazy.
This was a sign of things to come, impulse control relating to sex was an issue continuing into adulthood.
I am moved to homicide any time someone puts double periods in the middle of a sentence, thinking it somehow controls the pace of reading in a sensible way.
And I don't stop until they are dead.
I met a boy named Frank Mills.
I enjoy being both a Mincing Prisspot and a Grammar Nazi.
[quote]I didn't know about some tiny band called "The Smiths". They were apparently an emo band from France, and their music makes the cool kids foam.
You're joking - right? They were a big indie British band - not French and existed long before the term "emo" was invented.
That WAS really awful of you.
R22/23, I really want to hear a few more. Please?
When I was young, in the 1970s, I went to work at the local refinery instead of going to college. I lived in a cabin on the lake, which was one big room with a hottub and pool table in it, and I had a bass boat, 2 motorcycles, all sorts of guns and other man-toys. I made the young men I worked with at the refinery, who were spending all their money on wives and children, jealous of my way of life. I would ask them to come to my camp and fish with me, ride motorcycles with me, go hunting with me, and when we got to be friends, they would like to spend time playing pool, using the hot tub and getting drunk. I would seduce them when they would be very drunk, and I fucked some of them while they were passed out. That is considered sexual assault nowadays, but back then it did not seem so bad. I'm sorry now that I did it, but you can't undo what is done.
R29, that's a joking reference to the "best song of the 90s" thread. Someone mentioned "Hippychick"; someone else mentioned "How Soon Is Now?", and all the kids chimed in with "What's that?" Outrage ensued.
In college, 20 years ago, I persuaded Friend A to check out a book from the library for Friend B who couldn't check anything else out owing to excessive overdue fines.
Friend B never brought the book back, and Friend A couldn't graduate because of the replacement charge on his account. By that time I had dropped out and moved back to my hometown, so I didn't know about the situation until Friend A called my mom at work (no idea how he got that number) desperate to track me down and get me to contact Friend B. I took no action. I have no idea how Friend A was ever able to take care of the situation.
Dear R22 / R23
Get a blog.
R35, you are the one who needs to go to a blog if you don't like this website. You are probably just too stupid to touch-type and jealous of people who can write out a story without tedious hunt & peck.
What R35 was really saying is:
"Those are too many words for me to read. If I cant be entertained in 50 words or less, then I wont bother. Reading anything more than a Garfield comic strip is more than my brain can handle"
That may not even be the worst thing I've ever done. I was a major, MAJOR fuckup in college, addicted to prescription painkillers and other unsavory behavior, and I was a hopeless pathological liar. I had no hope of graduating or getting a job, no hope for the future, but there was no way I was going to admit to any of it. I wanted people to think I had as normal and bright a future as anybody else...
A friend I made my last year (my sixth! But who was counting) who grew up a few blocks from campus and who had never lived away from home suggested that he and I become roommates after graduation. I went along with the plan, looking at apartment after apartment and settling on one, never telling him that I actually intended to return to my hometown after "graduation", live in my mother's guestroom and put the college years behind me.
The day before we were supposed to sign the lease, I broke the news to him that I had been "offered a job" "in my field" in my hometown that I couldn't turn down. I ruined his chance to move out of his parents' house, at least in the short term.
Fast forward 16 years later: I found him on Facebook and sent him a message of effusive contrition. He claimed to have no memory of the incident. I think he was just being nice.
[quote]me and my partner in crime nearly had an aneurism from laughing so hard
Even now I am plotting ways to track down the perpetrator of this grammatical outrage and get revenge. And that will be the third worst thing that I have done. As it happens, I can remember only one of the first two, but I know that there are two of them.
R20, I am curious; if it had been a Coach bag, would pooping into it have been less heinous?
I actually did the same thing as you did, R3: dated the friend of a guy who had dumped me and broken my heart. Me and his friend only saw each other a couple of times (I pretty much fucked him a couple of times and then stopped calling, but enough to be seen out with him a couple of times). I came to find out that they weren't really that great of friends anyway. Then a couple years later, the guy I was trying to get back at died of HIV-complications.
R22/23 is a great writer. I really enjoyed those stories.
R31's story was quite disturbing. Sexual assault? Let's just call it rape.
Good one, R26.
Is there something wrong with me because I actually thought R22 R23 stories are funny? True, I would never want those things to happen to me, but something about them is entertaining.
R41, of course it is disturbing. The question was about the worst thing. At least I can be happy that the worst behavior of my life was during the years that I was 18 to 24.
When you say "rape" you are using the sensibilities of this era, rather than that era. Back then it was not possible to rape a man. Rape was forcible penetration of a woman's vagina by the penis of a male rapist. There was a crime of sexual assault where that sort of penetration did not happen, and back then I could have been charged with aggravated sexual assault, but I knew that the men involved had gotten passed out drunk of their own free will, and that they would never know about it, and even if a man was sexually assaulted back then, they were too embarrassed to ever tell anyone about it. I felt that I was being careful not to hurt anyone, even if I took advantage of their own weakness for alcohol. Most of the men that I dealt with during that time of my life were certainly willing to experiment, and even to take sexual advantage of me when we were drinking together. This was long before AIDS and the backlash of hatred toward "gay" political activism.
OP? What with the weird double periods? Ellipses get three dots.
You type moronic.
In addition to compulsive lying, I became a bit of a kleptomaniac, because I had no money for food or cigarettes or toiletries because I had no job because I felt I wasn't really qualified for anything and wanted to spend all my "free time" (the time I wasn't hanging out on campus pretending to be enrolled in classes) pursuing anonymous sex.
So... I would walk around campus looking for open access to staff refrigerators and steal people's leftovers. Or I would get a burger and fries to go from the campus restaurant, then smuggle the bag past the cashier line pretending to have just gotten a soda refill. That was how I ate.
But the worst thing I did in that respect was steal cigarettes from the drug store next to campus. They made it so easy: you could just walk in, take a pack from the counter display, walk around the store, stick it into your back pocket, and exit.
Until I got caught. The manager of the store ran after me out the door; I ran faster and made it into the gates of the campus apartments where I lived, beyond his reach. That was the last time I shoplifted.
went to the baths when my husband was in the hospital.
I love how R29 played directly into that. Morrissey fans really need to get a grip.
Ellipses have three periods unless the ellipses contains a final punctuation. Then the three periods are followed by a period or a question mark, or whatever.
Formerly there would be spaces before and between the periods and punctuation marks, but I think that has changed with word processing.
R31 would have us believe it was less serious to rape a man in the 70s. Not so.
I would say, though, that I don't think people who are stoned drunk are really unconscious, so it probably wasn't rape as it was thought of back then. We're not talking GHB here. Today, people seem to think that having one drink removes them from all responsibility for what happens to them.
R22 you could have wrote "I'm a sociopath" and saved yourself and us the time.
Does sending hate mail to someone who was actually a nice person count?
Over the years, sucked of the husbands of various female friends.
And the fathers of 2 male friends. (not at the same time)
And my BF's brother.
R51 A sociopath is someone who has a lack of regret or lack of conscience regarding their anti social behavior. R22 clearly states they felt bad afterwards. Perhaps if you looked up the word you could have saved yourself some time. And embarrassment.
I bought a "Best of the Statler Brothers" CD, in a Target, in East Phoenix.
There are worse things I could do...
You sound like a bit of a creep, r46. And yet your writing skills indicate intelligence. How have things turned out for you?
R23's story is better if you imagine R31 as 'Stan.'
I doon remember...
I pooped in a Jaclyn Smith clutch
I shopped in a Walmart after I told everyone how much I despised Wally World and all of the evil corporate world. Then, I voted Republican!!
It does bother me that R22 can think of about a dozen entries for this category.
Eat shit, R54. A decent person wouldn't have done it in the first place. R22 and you are giant pieces of sociopathic shit. Saying "i feel bad" on an anonymous website DON'T MEAN SHIT.
None of that changes that fact that you still don't know the definition of the word "sociopath" though, R66.
R66 Regretting ones actions shortly afterwards, which R22 shows they did, is not what a sociopath does. A troublesome, misguided teenager with too much time, money, drugs and not enough adult supervision? Yes. A sociopath, as the word is legally defined? No.
Lashing out with anger and vitriol when someone points out you are using words you don't understand when an adult, and continuing to insist on misusing the word when you know better, is much more worrisome than someone honestly admitting that as a youth they did things they regret.
Bonnie Mace did worse than these on a weekly basis, as I recall. Has Datalounge become a ghetto of Goody Two Shoes Church Ladies?
I stole the cookie from the cookie jar.
I was getting rimmed and I was clean but part way into it I realised I needed a dump. I felt awful until I realised he was still licking and sucking at me.
[quote]You sound like a bit of a creep, [R46]. And yet your writing skills indicate intelligence. How have things turned out for you?
That was all 20+ years ago. I got my shit together not long after giving up on college, returning home and getting a job.
I'm not a creep anymore; that troubled kid seems like a totally different person now. I'm a respectable middle-aged mediocrity. Nobody would suspect I ever used to be such a mess, except the people who knew me back then.