For old times sake.

I'll start off: Ingrown toenails. They hurt like a motherfucker, and I happen to have them on both toes. FFFFFFFFFFF

My Heart! QQ

guess which of the following "hypothetical scenarios" hasn't happened to me:

A. accidentally hitting your little toe on doorframes as you innocently move throughout your home

B. microwaving a burrito for too long, resulting in an infernal gluey mortar of beans and cheese stuck tight to the roof of your mouth; removing it also removes a layer of scalded gum-skin and you can't eat anything with salt (like nachos) until it heals

C. standing on one side of the inside rim of a disembodied 700lb. tractor tire while your friends on the other side knock it over, towards themselves, in a now-futile attempt to move it out of a ditch, which sends you flying into the air like zangief just dunked a snorlax on the opposing end of a see-saw; a full two seconds later, you land on your hip in a nearby pile of rusted chain-link fencing material draped over a concrete drainage pipe

D. trying to jump up onto a gymnasium stage, only to miscalculate the amount of initial thrust necessary and therefore crack both your knees on the corner of it

E. falling backwards off a couch, swinging the back of your head directly into a collapsible metal card table which (surprise!) collapses on you, spilling two plates of hamburgers, a glass jar full of dill pickle spears, and an active George Foreman grill onto your corpse

F. throwing a rare earth magnet at a school fire alarm while it's sounding

G. attempting to surprise your younger brothers by rushing at them down the stairs on a beanbag chair, while carrying an aluminum baseball bat and a potato sack full of giant duplo blocks, and coming to an abrupt stop at the top of said stairwell, which houses several glass pictureframes and whose landing is home to a cherrywood vanity dresser, as your trusty steed succumbs to obvious friction problems and dismounts you; after chapping your bum on the carpeted stairs, the potato sack's contents and the loosened pictureframes come tumbling after you as you accidentally drive your bat into your diaphragm during your disastrous descent, which ends with your body slamming into the vanity and a hail of sharp objects pelting you from on high, including your unsympathetic brothers' sacks of duplo blocks and baseball bats after they recognize that you are helpless

putting toothpicks under your toenails and kicking a cement wall as hard as you can

You know it would make a pretty good Saw type movie if someone was kidnapped and then asked for suggestions on what to do to them via forum. People would post some sick stuff.

sup /b/,

i just kidnapped someone. how should i torture them?
pic related - it's the person i kidnapped



>tell them they lost the game

Ingrown hair. On your shaft. Definitely not talking from experience.

just reading that was painful

wow you guys suck

I'm sitting in a room with people playing Super Smash Bros. It is painful.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rt7dK62QdLM

Uhh, F?

Realizing you came to work with an empty pack of smokes.

That is painful.

Or:

Pulling out your stash and realizing you have mold on your weed.

Or:

Being hit by a car.

Experience. Station wagon. Left knee.

Slicing the top of my finger, leaving a scar and reminder every time I play a stringed instrument.

Dancing so hardcore I hit my index finger and damn near broke the nail off. It got infected and I had to take antibiotics. I finished off the nail with hangnail clippers a few weeks later. Grew back, and I have a small scar on my index finger. Also said finger has a few numb spots, yay nerve damage.

Some time later I was fixing a lamp with my dad, and he accidentally jammed a screwdriver right into the scar. Now it looks like a "y".

While walking to my car after watching a movie with a friend, I passed a car full of teenagers blasting screamo or some kind of shitty "core" genre. When I got to my car, I turned around to see one of them get out and start hardcore dancing in the snow. I pulled out my phone and started recording him. He stopped and started glaring at me, so I kept on recording. He then got back in the car, did a doughnut, and drove away.

so there we were, me and three other dudes, like a couple days before July 4th, at this public playground for childrens. it was very very late at night, possibly even early morning the next day.

the playground is surrounded on all sides by residential areas, except for one side, where it's surrounded by a storehouse/maintenance bay for snow plows. it was (and still is) our favorite spot to cause fires and enact shenanigans. this is because nobody ever goes there, and because it is a two-minute walk from stretch's place, which is in one of those aforementioned residential areas.

anyway so there we were. we had several shoeboxes full of all kinds of shit, mostly acquired by stretch since he scored a job at the seasonal fireworks peddler outlet, and one of his perks was free fireworks out the butt. "out the butt" as in we had easily four pounds of roman candles (about 200 individual units, meaning at 14 shots per candle, we had 2800 fireballs at our intermittent disposal), six 300-count boxes of Z-120s, an entire shoebox filled with firecracker pamphlets, another shoebox full of 100-shot-burst screaming banshee howitzer cube things that spat sparks, and enough tanks to occupy france (which we rigged with some of the Z-120s, meaning instead of just slowly burning up after they'd been lit or fried by another tank, they would explode all to hell). oh and that doesn't include all the Marvel Heroes PEZ dispensers full of blacksnakes, three glass quart jars full of napalm, iraq's entire supply of enriched-uranium bottle rockets, and oh - a PALETTE OF HAND-CRAFTED DEATHBASTARD MORTARS.

that's the name we give to our special brand of homemade missiles. stretch makes them out of model rocket solid fuel cores, black powder, and a mixture of potassium nitrate and sugar, all organized into a specially-crafted hollow bulb made of sculpey. mostly they take off with a WHIZZSHEEEOOOOOWWWWFFF, then after about 4 to 6 seconds, they explode into a diabolical plume of black smoke that hangs in the air like it just don't care. they are extremely not desirable indoors. we tested and confirmed that hypothesis by firing one of them off inside the public toilet shed on that playground. also they are very loud.

which brings me back to the story. we were standing around making loud, dangerous patriotism, when suddenly this car pulls up, highbeams on, and parks about fifteen feet from us. little corvette i think, silver or white. we collectively assumed it was someone here to file a complaint. we were right; college-age woman rolls her window down, gives us the business about how she can't sleep, yada yada yada, we have jobs in the morning, maturity or something, whatever. we sort of just stood there and asked if she wanted to play too, because we brought enough for the whole goddamn class.

mild swearing began about how we suck and should make better use of our time. my pals suddenly became less jovial when she threatened police intervention.

evidently they forgot the other reason why we chose this playground: it's zoned for public use, 24/7, meaning we could do whatever we wanted so long as there wasn't any signage posted to the contrary. the only such signs around indicated that you couldn't block the entrance with your car, no trespassing onto the snowplow station, and the ubiquitous notice regarding slow children at play. it also helped that Carmel city had a fantastically lax fire ordinance.

so instead of wimping out like my buds, i reacted to her blubbering by cracking off a roman candle. her objections only caused me to orient the device closer and closer to my pelvis, and make cornholio noises. my foolish bravery inspired my friends to recollect their virility and join me in behaving inappropriately. threats and swearing alike grew in intensity, until after probably only another minute of our mocking, she drove off after casting one final aspersion on our upbringing.

she actually did call the cops apparently, because shortly thereafter, we heard sirens. we gathered our stuff and enacted Escape Plan Alpha, which involves hiking through the nearby woodlands, with which we are all intimately acquainted, and rendezvousing at a strip mall across town. it was brisk and, because we brought lantern flashlights, not at all unpleasant. the party dined on starbucks and an all-you-can-eat chinese buffet called THE DRAGON HOUSE, where everyboooody knows our naaa-aaaames because we eat there all the time. alibi!

the reason this story is on-topic is because of all the scorch marks everyone had once we were done having firework battles. they weren't painful at all, more like mild sunburns that healed overnight, but they did ruin a couple of cool shirts. not mine though, i'm too fly and also a ninja.

that story was beautiful.

Being told "I met someone else. I'm sorry," via Facebook message.

/wrists.
Real pain, you emo fuck.

going down a slide head first, nail sticking about a quarter inch through the center of the slide

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh


i just wanted someone to talk to


wwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh

Reading the posts on flecko.net.

infections of any variety are usually quite painful

oh and spider bites and bee stings
bees are motherfuckers

the front page of YouTube

my bookmark leads to my account just so I don't have to go through the front page

*shudder*

This has never happened to me. I'm so sorry.

WTF?

shut the fuck up

being on a 120km/h beetle car, with 5 people, in the back sit, in the middle of 2 girls, and suddenly the driver overturn the car :)
in the attempting of protect your 2 girl friends, you hug them, and put one hand on the roof, to avoid them from hitting their fucking head.
then the car turns goes 2m high, and turn 4 times.
when it stops you find out the roof has hit the street, ripped itself and ragged your hand so nicely.
17 different cuts, of 17 different sizes and depth.
have i already told you about the glass shards in the face?
shit happens.

Edit: but really tarrasque, your options scared me.

Ouch... my confidence.

your life sounds extremely hardcore. you probably eat faceplants for breakfast.


i'd forgotten i'd even done that - the correct answer is B, the one about the burrito; it happened to my poor mother, not me

Faceplants are for babies,you don't wanna know what I eat.
Btw, how THE FUCK did you manage to be so unlucky?
I couldn't live trough all of those, even if I wanted to.

the George Foreman grill was the closest i came to meeting my maker. it turns out part of the grease-extraction mechanism involves eldritch necromancy that grills the soul. i forever wear a delicious brand upon my essence.

dude but really it hurt like shit

Well after the trip to the hospital; all the boo-hoo's and such, how did the two saved Lasses decide to honor their battered hero?

as one of them now is my girlfriend, the other one just huged me :T

my parents got hit and hospitalized by a drunk driver a few new years ago.

the rug burn on your penis after a stimulant filled night.

and seeing what is now in your history after said night. (i.e. things related to horse fucking, it was one of those nights)

ephedrine/addy/serotonin+tabs/primatine + internet = wtfhistory

related to both ^ and pain thread: deviated septum

I can't believe I'm the first one to notice this.

Did you have an incident with a bear trap or something?

I have a problem with both of my toenails, even if I do cut them correctly they always end up ingrown.

You only have two toenails?

yeah didn't you know? he's canadian

Bullshit: he implied that he only had two toes. That only happens when you're Confederate or diabetic. Or really lucking unfucky.

hey listen you big mathy bastard, you're just, you're not very worldly or something, man, because if you were, you'd know that all canadians only have two toenails. they're all born that way, just like all mexicans have a patchouli gland, and the phrase "disciplinarian asian parents" is redundant, okay? just shut up and quit making a big scene out of this, you're so bad in these, these situations with other people, just keep your mouth shut and let me talk to them from now on. we'll never get chicks like this.

What ended up happening?



This is possibly one of the greatest scenarios I ever read.


Also to contribute to the thread: Having a "safety line" as a kid tied to your ankle while standing on a dilapidated rusty metal-potruding car only for the other person to hastily jump off and run at full speed down the driveway to greet the mailman and have you completely lose footing, bang your head on the trunk, then the bumper, then the concrete, and then 10 feet of dragging until someone points out (mailman) what the fuck just happened.

much loud.

you know those shitty noisemaker toys powered by watch batteries? sometimes they're modeled to look like miniature cellphones or remote controls, and each button makes an annoying sound. if you take one of those, and you take out the watch batteries, and you rig up a way to power it with a 9-volt battery instead (using copper wire or paperclips or whatever), it makes the device emit a deafening shriek as the speakers begin to spark and melt. after a few seconds of electric boogaloo, the wailing starts to drop a few octaves before cutting out entirely - you know, the typical hollywood "the computer is dying so its voice goes from vanna white to barry white" effect.

the same thing happens if you magnetize more powerful noise emitters, like a fire alarm. you need a "permanent magnet" (i.e. a rock, not an electromagnet device) whose strength is either on par with or more powerful than the magnet in the noisemaker; a neodymium (NIB) magnet will almost certainly be strong enough, those bastards are the juggernaut. just stick the magnet to the noisemaker's speaker while it's making noise, and presto! they'll have a janitor replace it later. also he probably will not return your magnet.