People Are Talking About the Biggest S**tshow They Have Ever Been Witness to

Dude in our office who was shall call "Mr Piss Bottle" (MPB). So this all came to a head a few months back. So MPB is a kinda slobbish fat dude that sits in a cube on my floor. I don't really interact with much other than saying hi as we are on different teams. He lives on a diet of McD's and other low end fast food.

Anyway a few months back we had some dept. wide seminar where we had to dial into a web meeting. We were stuck on this thing for about an hour and a half.

After it had finished I got up to go to another meeting and there was this smell over by the meetings rooms where MPB's (new) desk is. Best way of describing it was like somebody had stood in dog shit and then scrapped it on the carpet. Or maybe like the sewer was backing up.

It was kinda gross but I didn't give it much though at the time until several weeks later. One of my buddies who I go metal detecting with in summer works in HR in the same building so we went to grab lunch. Anyway he starts asking if I know MPB. I'm like yeah I know the guy, don't work with him but say hi etc.
So he then explains the following.

MPB was a lazy dude and at some point had decided that pissing in the empty two liter coke bottle he always chugged at all day was just fine. He'd piss in this thing then toss it in the trash can under his desk.

The cleaning crew didn't notice at first, until they changed the trash bags over from black ones to rolls of clear ones. I guess one of the crew must have noticed his trash was always kinda heavy. Anyway they could see the bottle with his murky yellow liquid now.

Some of the crew must have found it funny as they didn't say shit to their supervisor. Until one fateful day - the day of the stench I described above.

A week before this meeting, there had been a re-org and some of the cubes had been moved around. MPB had been moved over by the meeting rooms. His desk was in the corner, so you couldn't really walk behind him etc. as the meeting room wall was there.

Anyway MPB I guess didn't like being even further away from the men's room (which guess he barely used anyway) and disaster struck.

The cleaning crew went into his cube that night and found a take out bag full of liquid shit oozing out stuffed in the trash can. Worst some of it was on the carpet.

This dude had obviously had to go during the meeting and decided to somehow crouch and dump in the takeout bag. Anyway this dudes diet of fast food and fucking soda must have caught up with him, as he sprayed liquid poop into the bag. He then wiped his ass with paper towel and threw the lot in the trash can.

So the crew told their supervisor about the shit bag and also about the piss bottles. He spoke to HR. They gave MPB a warning that if this "shit" ever happens again he is gone. I guess since nobody complained about the piss bottles for a while he kinda got off on that. He doesn't know, I know but I think he def cut that out after getting caught.

Username: tharrbetreasure

I lived in a dorm at a Christian college. My freshman year, one of the sophmores, we will call him Blake, was getting married. So, he invited two of his friends (fred and ted) and my roommate (Colten) to hang with them. Instead of drinking, smoking weed or anything we would all deem normal; they go to Red Robin. Except they went with diapers and a contest to see who could eat the most fries and drink the most strawberry lemonades. Whoever peed or crapped first lost.

So, these are bottomless items and they got probably 9 trays of fries, and 6 lemonades each deep before they got kicked out. They decided to head back to the dorms and make it more challenging. Blake shut all the vents in the bathroom, turned all the sinks and showers on full blast on high till the bathroom was a sonna.

Fred and Ted turn off the lights and put a couple colorful disco balls in there for the mood lighting. They stand in the showers with nothing but the diapers. Forgot to mention that somewhere alomg the process they decided to eat laxatives to speed up the process of elmination... bad idea, i bet they ate too much cause It hits blake first and he starts crapping his guts out.

Everybody else starts crapping soon after as well. They are screaming from the ferocity of the poops.

Once they all stop pooping, Blake makes the first move to make it to the bathroom stall. He moves one leg and PLOP! Shit hit the floor. Remember the sonna effect? Yeah it started smelling extremely awful because of the heat. Colten immediately projectile vomits since he gets quesy easy. They are all screaming again.

In comes me to see if someone got murdered. I see all four if them projectile vomiting, running around with massively filled diapers, its hot and sweaty, and smells like a cow pasture with infinite miles of manure. The disco balls are happily blasting colors on the walls making the vomit look like fun but it only adds to the terrible smell.

The story goes on cause Blake looks at me and hands me his diaper and says "please for the love of God take care of this!" Recently we had someone take a shit in our microwave and turn it on for 20 minutes. Definitely one of our rival male floors above us.

So, i take the diaper, run to the 5th floor of dudes, open the bathroom door and fling the diaper in there. It was like a shot gun effect of diarhea. It hit the walls and made a few satisfying plops.

I head back downstairs and hear our RA yell "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SMELL!?!" They scrubbed that bathroom clean till at least 6 am the next morning.

Username: Darsich

As a man that has reached the ripe old age of 48 I can promise you I have seen some shit go down. This one totally takes the cake for me though. I was waiting out front of a truck stop back in the mid 80's.

Sitting on a park bench with a guy that had a big Rottweiler kinda dog on a leash with him. I tried to make small talk but he was quite a sourpuss. So we sat in silence for a few minutes until the most unexpected thing I have ever seen, happened right before my very eyes.

While we were sitting there a big 18 wheeler pulls in without a trailer (bobtail) so he parks right up front like a normal car would. Inside the cab of the truck with the driver is a little monkey. The dance for the organ grinder kind.

I think they are called Rhesus monkeys perhaps. Well the dog spots this lil monkey and proceeds to go apeshit over it. Lunging at the end of his leash and barking at the top of his lungs. Generally making a real spectacle of himself to say the least.

The driver is obviously upset, but not nearly as much as the monkey is. Actually upset may be the wrong adjective to use for the monkey though. In retrospect I think eagerly aggressive may be a more appropriate description for his disposition. He was pacing the dashboard back and forth. Never taking his eyes off of this very aggravating dog.

The driver opens his little triangle window that they don't make on cars anymore. The ones made for smokers back in the day. He yells out to this douche bag to call his dog off because it is upsetting his monkey.

The guy laughs and says no way (I told you he was a jerk didn't I?). Says that his dog ain't bothering nobody. The dog hasn't shut up since he laid eyes on the monkey. I promise you he is bothering everybody for several blocks around.

Now here's where things start to get interesting. The driver says that if he doesn't call his dog off he's gonna let his monkey loose on that dog.

Douche bag laughs and says that his dog would eat that monkey alive. Upon hearing this the driver leans over and reaches into his glove box I guess. Pulls out one of those tiny baseball bats like you used to get at Astroworld or carnivals, and places it in the monkeys hand.

The monkey obviously knows what's about to go down because he is now trying to squeeze out of that little triangular window I mentioned earlier. This monkey has murder in his eyes if I have ever seen it. Driver hollers "Last chance to save your dog's ass man."

In response douche bag lets his dog off of the leash. Now we have a situation that has escalated to the point where we have a dog jumping up at the window and a monkey screaming profanities right back at him. Well, the driver finally rolls down the regular window and out leaps all kinds of miniature primate hell. The dog never knew what hit him.

Quick as a flash this monkey is riding on the back of this dog's neck. His two back feet all wrapped up in his neck fur with one hand hanging onto an ear. The other hand as you may have guessed by now is steadily and mercilessly raining down blows about this dog's head and face. I mean hard blows. You can hear them whap whap whap.

Well it only took a moment for the dog to realize he was in way over his head. He bolts yelping bloody murder as he runs away at full speed. I mean this dog is running so fuckin hard he's throwing up tufts of grass and dirt as soon as he leaves pavement. The monkey still riding him and beating on him the whole time.

Douche bag acts like he wants to fight now but several people including myself stepped in to stop that nonsense. In a couple of minutes or so the little monkey comes loping back with his little bat still in hand, and leaps up into the still open window of the truck to await his master who has gone on into the store.

That wanker ran off to try to go find his dog, but I don't know if he ever did. My ride showed up and I had to go. Never again in this lifetime will I see something so totally crazy and unexpected like that. I am both fortunate and humble to have been so privileged to be present for such an event.

Username: [deleted]

We were at a marina launching our work barge after it came back from a repair on the hull. It was a 20' craft in well-used condition (it's a working craft, not a party boat) and towed by our little stake truck on our crappy trailer. I don't know how it happened that the worst trailer driver was behind the wheel of the truck that day, but he couldn't back the trailer down the launch ramp in a straight line to save his life.

20 minutes goes by and he's still behind the wheel and 3 of us are guiding him on the ramp. There's plenty of room on this big ass launch and a truck and trailer back in alongside. This was a shiny, new F-350 with a lift kit and brush guards.

Not only that but it had all the requisite "bro" accoutrements like a "Calvin peeing on something", "No Fear", and "tribal" pattern adorning the lift gate. It was driven by exactly the kind of guy you might imagine would drive this monstrosity...Kottonmouth Kings tank top 3 sizes too small, 311 absolutely blaring out of his massive speakers, Metal Mulisha tattoos.

His boat was a deep-vee hulled ski boat in a shiny orange and black, kind of like a floating tribute to the glory of Halloween. Everything chromed out, the whole nine. It was on a brand-new trailer, clearly purchased some days before and never seen a lick of water.

We're all there guiding Captain Dumbass in our beater truck with the beater trailer and the beater barge when this walking X-Games Ad pulls up with his toy and his vapid girlfriend in tow. He backs to the water's edge and gives the four of us the biggest shit-eating grin I've ever seen.

He then floors it in reverse, apparently to show us how easy it is to launch his new overcompensation. One thing he forgot to do before this is to attach the webbing strap of the trailer to the ring on the hull. Lo and behold, the boat is seaworthy!

Now House Of Pain's bro yacht is floating, drifting towards the open ocean, or quite possibly the marina's dock. The currents are pretty heavy this time of day and the tide is high. Everlast cops what's just happened in the rear view mirror and is now furiously piecing together the cause. Trophy Girlfriend is checking herself out in the wing mirror, totally oblivious to what's going on.

Meanwhile, the four of us have stopped what we're doing and are doubled over, unable to breathe for all the laughing we're doing. Crazytown has now jumped out of his bro truck and is trying to wade in after the boat, but his trophy truck is rolling down the ramp because the numpty didn't set his parking brake.

Beth from Dog the Bounty Hunter is now screaming out the window that the Pussy Wagon is slowly but steadily heading towards the abyss. Alien Ant Farm goes back to the truck and is able to gun the engine just in time to avoid flooding the cab, but the Juggalo One has plunged headlong into a concrete marina pylon with almighty *CRASH*.

Still laughing, I hop onto our shitty barge and unhook it from the trailer whilst looking directly at the distraught Nickelback clone and sail off into the sunset. My coworkers said they had just enough time to pull the truck and trailer away before Sad Bro turned into Angry Bro...poetic justice if there ever was any.

Username: poutinegalvaude

I went to the College of Charleston. We were hosting the University of North Carolina in a very highly anticipated basketball game in 2010. We ended up winning in a semi-buzzer beater fashion and everyone got hammered afterwards in typical college fashion. However, this story is about my then-roommate whom we will call... Carl.

The College decided it was time to become hip and have a pregame tailgate and allow students of age to drink some beer. We went, of course. Somehow, we missed the memo of the *time allowed for beer or wine consumption*. We showed up a few hours before the game, cracked a few beers and within minutes asked to leave and come back at the drinking time. Okay no big deal.

We end up at a friend's house a few blocks from the gym (this was also a really big deal kind of game because the game was in the new arena). Carl finishes his 6 pack there in about an hour.

He goes to the corner store, purchases 2 Four Lokos and another 6 pack. He then finishes the 2 four lokos. He is bye-bye at this point. We get back to the first ever tailgate at the appropriate time to consume alcohol. Carl finishes the other 6 pack in this time period. Bye, man.

UNC is running onto the court and Carl is throwing things at the players and yelling obscenities. We start to distance ourselves from him at this point. We look back and realize he is gone and later found out he was removed from the student section. (The rest of the story is from communication from campus and city police).

He decides at some point that he has to pee. He finds his way into the women's team locker room and just starts pissing on the floor. A female in there was spooked and called security. He was resisting a little when trying to be removed, so officers remove him forcefully through some back doors.

As soon as they asked able to get him on the ground and keep him still, people have started to gather around the scuffle out back. He proceeds to scream "they're raping me! They're raping me! HELP! THEY'RE RAPING ME!" The officers proceeded to arrest him and keep him overnight.

We thought Carl had just found some unlucky gal to hang out with (as he was notorious for). The next morning the gentleman that owned the corner store near our house comes knocking on our door. His English was certainly not the best.

He stumbles through explaining that Carl was in jail and needs a ride, he made bail. This was the only landline he knew in the area. We go get Carl and he has a very vague and foggy memory of what happened, so we tell him what the officers told us.

He is put on academic and campus probation in front of the honor board. They tell him he has 3 weeks to gather witnesses andwrite a personal statement to defend his case to avoid expulsion a month from graduating.

I was selected as a witness and painted him like the rich, well to do, golden boy he was when I first met him. He graduated with the rest of us.

Username: [deleted]

Biggest shit show I've ever witness was this year, my last trip with the school to Italy. Now sorry for the crappy formating on mob, and this will be kinda long probably. Anyway, my pal and I had bought some absenth(?), basically 70% alcohol.

Shit tasted like paint thinner and burned as much. Now I'm 18, he's 17. We had a shot before dinner each night, the teachers undoubtedly knew because we were giggling and stuff at the tables but weren't an issue so they were okay with it.

My pal, being dumb, tells the 3/4th years about the booze. And I'm like this'll end spectacularly bad but I love drama so. They are all like "will you buy us some?" Pals says sure. He gets the three guys a litre bottle of vodka and the three girls the same. This is our 2nd last night. Back to the hotel, everything is good. Girls were up late drinking a little but weren't caught.

Now this is where it gets amazing. The next night, my friend and I are ready for dinner. Had a shot, walked out the door grabbed by the three girls. They tell us, I'm going to call the guy C because I can't remember his name. Is smacking his head off the wall.

After we stopped laugh, which the girls clearly weren't amused at, we went to his room. Kid stumbles out. We're like "okay sobriety test, say the alphabet backwards." "I don't know it forwards" "okay walk in a straight line" C slides down the wall. So we think screw this noise not our problem, jest stay as far away from our tables as you can. And went for dinner.

Now a while into dinner I point out to my pal C, I can barely speak for laugh. Kids head is rolling around on his shoulders like there's no bones in his neck. He stumbles off to the toil. My friend follows, I stayed at the table. This is what he told me happened.

My pals says "you aren't leaving till you puke, stick your fingers down your throat." kids stick four fingers, not pretty, then vomits all over the walls of the cubicle. Pal has to tell a teacher, and it's Mr B, who simply says "Aw fuck." we told him it was probably sunstroke.

Anyway back to me, pal comes back in tells us this, i nearly collapse laughing. Then Miss H walks over and asks me to grab my camera for tartan night pictures. ( We're Scottish, last night we always dress up in tartan gear) when my pal and I get back, one of the girls we were having dinner with tells us C puked all over the table in front of the whole trip and like 10 Italian families. Brilliant. I can't hold my laughing in at this point.

After pictures we were in bed ready to go home the next day, Mr B and Mr P come into our room. They say C says he drank a lot of this mildly alcoholic lemon stuff, (as we told him to say, and to fire the empty vodka bottle out the window) but they say they know it was a lot stronger.

And say how they need to spend the night looking after him and then ask us if we have anything we shouldn't, say no. They find nothing and leave as we expected. I walk into the toilet and see our empty bottle in the toilet bin show it to my pal as how close we were to getting caught but just laughed.

Kid didn't drop my pal in the shit for buying the booze, though it seemed like he might for a whole. So that's my biggest shit show. Hope y'all enjoyed.

Username: RealLifeExodus

So, when my boyfriend was in college his friends would come over to our apartment about once a week. We would play games and drink; sometimes a little, sometimes a lot.

This particular night everyone but me was drinking and we were sitting around the table playing Munchkin. I want to say there were probably seven people there, including myself.

After Munchkin everyone is nice and drunk, so, we decide to go outside and smoke cigars. One guy leaves and one guy locks himself in our bathroom. So, now five of us are sitting outside talking about cars and shit and wondering if the guy upstairs is puking.

Sure enough, we look up in time to see the door to our apartment open and the guy, Luke, stumble out. He barely gets the door closed and we're all pretty sure he isn't going to make it down the stairs. Somehow he does.

After he started smoking a bit my boyfriend decides to ask him if he puked. Luke kind of giggles and says yes. This is what followed.

Boyfriend: "Luke...where did you puke?"
Luke: "I buried it,"
Boyfriend: "What do you mean you buried it?"
Luke: "I buried it,"
Boyfriend: "WHERE?"
Luke: "In the toilet,"

We're all pretty amused at this point and laugh at the guy who's been sharing a cigar with Luke. All the sudden Luke pukes all over his jeans. I've never seen grown men run so fast. So, here I am, the only woman at this party and the only person willing to take care of the puking guy. At this point I've only met him a few times previously.

I patted his back and he gave me his hat to keep it safe, for some reason. I was just standing there waiting for one of the guys to come back because I know I can't get Luke up three flights of stairs by myself. That's when I hear it.

"Dear God," I'm thinking, "No way, he is not about to start praying right now," There's a long pause and I figure it's not going to happen. Then it does.

"Dear God, please let me get home safe tonight," My first thought was that certainly wasn't going to fucking happen. "And thank you for the great friends you've given me," You mean the ones that just ran from you screaming like little girls?

I'm laughing, because if you're so drunk you've got to pray to God you're too far gone. I see my boyfriend and one of the other guys creeping back around the corner, so, I run over to them and tell them what's happening. They think it's hilarious.

We get him upstairs and sit him down on the love seat. One guy is leaning over him, asking him if he's okay. I get him a clean pair of pants and by the time I get back he's puking again. The guy who was talking to him shrieks and runs. Luke stands up and follows the guy, nearly puking on him for a second time.

Luke makes it to the bathroom. There's puke all over my house. For a minute, the three of us able to remain in the house sit on the kitchen floor just kind of laughing at how fucking awful this is getting. I brave the storm by getting Luke some water and taking it to him. He managed to puke from the door of the bathroom all the way to the toilet, so about 90% of the floor is covered in vomit.

After a while everyone who left came back inside and one of the guys started cleaning up the puke as best he could. Next thing I know, Luke is stumbling out of the bathroom wearing nothing but his underwear.

Everyone is telling him to go back into the bathroom, but he's smiling and insisting he's fine. He lays down on our expensive couch and passes out immediately. Two of the guys move him to the floor and we spend the rest of the night sitting around him playing video games.

As for the ruined bathroom, we just closed the door and tried to forget about it. The next day when we made him clean it up he had the audacity to ask me "how deep" he was to clean the bathroom. Until the puke it gone, you fucking asshole. He was so ashamed he literally never came to our house again.

Username: Disera

This was my own shitshow. Happened many moons ago on a flight from Australia to Stockholm with a full day in Bangkok en route. With an evening flight to Stockholm I had the day to explore Bangkok so decided to get on a river boat and explore some temples.

Interestingly the taxi driver I hired from the hotel had this sorted and ended up on the boat with me and the driver. As we left the dock I saw an identical boat with about 20 tourists on it so had visions of waking up in a bathtub full of ice and some pain killers.

Anyhow, off we go to the temples and ended up at a zoo where we had lunch. Being the adventurous kiwi I am, crocodile was on the menu so I ate some with the hunger only a tourist knows. This will later be my downfall. Returning to the hotel, I started to get stomach cramps and the sweats but I had a plane to catch so had a shower and got ready to head to the airport.

For added fun the television in my room wasn’t working so I got an electric shock for my troubles when trying to fix it. Great. Arrived at the airport and got on the plane. Sweet - next stop Stockholm to see my blonde goddess I had not seen in 4 months.

Now keep in mind I’ve just travelled a long way from Australia and been up all day so I’m wrecked and there’s a crocodile swimming around in my guts making me feel like death but being the tough kiwi bloke I am, I soldiered on. Dinner came and while the smell of it made me feel worse I chowed down anyway, took a sleeping pill and passed out.

This is where shit gets crazy. I’m not sure what woke me up, the unusual feeling of involuntarily emptying my bowels or the smell of something so disgusting I was expecting the oxygen masks to deploy. Thankfully it was lights out so all that stood between me and the bathroom was a sleeping german tourist. In this situation the language barrier wasn’t a problem and she quickly realised what was going on.

I made way at pace to the shitter being careful to not relax my stranglehold on the dirty croc. I feel I don’t need to get into specifics but I was hanging on for dear life as my body tried to turn itself inside out. At some stage I must have passed out because I was told I had been in there for about 30 minutes.

A lovely flight attendant was knocking on the door so I advised her what was going on and that she might want to check my seat. As I was apologising I noticed that something had hardened on my leg. Oh great, kill me now. The cleanup was a nightmare and everything from my waste down was beyond repair.

I waited for a while before the next attempt at communication and they sorted me out with some pyjamas from first class. After I stuffed my old clothes in the tiny rubbish bin I ventured back to my seat which was wet and had towels on it.

The german lady next to me was nowhere to be seen and it felt like everybody was looking at me which was probably true. I arrived in Stockholm still on death row, picked up my luggage which took an eternity and was in queue at customs with my pyjama bottoms when that croc decided to do a stomach roll.

I turned and ran with my luggage to the nearest toilet but gained the attention of airport security probably because I looked like shit, was sweating and was running away from customs in funny pants. They caught up to me and long story short followed me to the toilet and waited outside while set the last of that reptile free.

They then escorted me to what I thought was the fast lane out of hell but turned out to be a closed room where they went through everything. I actually felt sick writing this as it brought back terrible memories. Words cannot actually explain who bad this was.

Username: Poor_kiwi_kid

The aftermath of what can only have been the most epic drunken blackout new years eve party I have ever attended. This was in Denver, Colorado, new years eve party, 2014.

A lot of people underestimate the effect of altitude on drinking. Denver is a mile high. So you get way more drunk per ounce of alcohol consumed. Unfortunately this party was my best friend Mike, me and 2 other guys who were visiting, and Mike's gf and 3 of her friends who were visiting.

So 6/8 of the people at the party were not acclimated to drinking in this climate. An important point to consider before I describe all that would happen.

Mike was moving into his apartment that day. So all the guys started drinking around 3:00 pm. The girls came over at around 9:00pm. We were already pretty drunk. In their effort to catch up we all started taking tequila shots.

This is when someone whipped out a bunch of Adderol, so we split it up and all took about a half pill, or 15mg each. I attribute the groups decision to all take Adderol together as a major factor in the level of drunken debauchery that was to follow. The Adderol, the climate, and the early start to the drinking. It was a perfect storm for the biggest shitshow ever.

The morning of January 1st, 2014 I was the first of our party to wake up. I woke up on the floor of Mike's apartment. In his roomate's room. His roommate had a king size mattress and there were 4 people in there. One girl had absolutely pissed herself.

So essentially all 4 of them were laying in a puddle of piss. Same girl, and another girl next to her had puked themselves as well. So the whole bed was just a mangle of puke and piss, with people sleeping in it.

I noted the horrific scene in front of me, and then stumbled into the bathroom, trying to gain some composure. I looked at myself in the mirror and I had a massive black eye. Fuck, I thought. What in the world?

I stumbled further from the bathroom and into the living room. This is where I saw another girl in the corner, where she had obviously blasted the wall with a puke volcano. Another two guys were on the couches, one guy slept on a single seater somehow. Both of them with big black eyes, just like myself.

Good Lord, I thought. Wtf happened last night. So I walked over to my friend Mike's room and noticed that his sliding door had been barricaded shut with chairs wedged in between. It was clear that somebody was trying to keep whatever was inside there, inside, and not let it out.

Like we had put Mike in quarantine. Mike is a big, dumb, 6 ft 6 goober who loves to drink to excess and yell at people. So this was not out of the realm of possibility.

As the morning went on, every person would wake up and go through the same disturbing carnage that I did. And every person would not have a single clue as to what happened, when it happened or why. 8/8 of the people partying that night had a complete and total blackout.

As the months went on the night attained a sort of legendary status. With some hints as to what transpired that night come occasionally as people would have moments of insight and memory from in between blacked out moments.

It was pretty much guys fighting each other, fighting the girls, girls hitting guys and guys hitting other guys, guys trying to have sex with the girls, people crying, then people fighting more. More yelling and more carnage.

Single greatest shitshow of a new years I have ever, or hopefully will ever experience. Somehow everybody is still on good terms. And my buddy Mike's gf didnt' even break up with him.

Username: Buttskirt

Oh man. People are going to hate this comment but being in the military is a giant shit show. From the lowliest Private to the highest General. On paper, everything looks nice and tidy. In fact, it's probably the only thing that's nice and tidy. Let's see, here's my best example I can think of.

I was on an exercise in Yuma, AZ for one of those war game scenarios where they basically "deploy" a mini fighting force(infantry, tankers, air wing, etc...So here I am a young PFC motivated killer for democracy in my corps, your corps,Marine Corps! Working 12 on, 12 off, 7 days a week.

I was in the air wing(6672[oorah!/s]), and had a HUD (heads up display) for, i believe, an F-18 come across my desk. My job was to get the old one from the squadron, take it to my shop where it was to be processed and sent to a third party contractor who service these outrageously expensive parts(350K) if i remember correctly.

So if you don't know anything about the Marine Corps, logbook are your way of keeping yourself out of getting fucked and blamed for whatever shenanigans happen this giant cement mixer full of cats that is the Marine Corps.

So I show up, I have my logbook and the expediter at the squadron has his. We exchange information, i confirm serial number on this thing, he signs my logbook confirming he gave it to me, i sign his saying I took it off his hands.

Then i sign out of the logbook saying I was even in that office to begin with. Alright cool. I take this thing back to my shop, hand it to out shipping guys, he signs my log book, I sign his, and again I sign in and out of his warehouse yadda yadda.

They give me one, dance the logbook dance and I walk that thing back to the squadron, put on the logbook dog and pony show and bam everybody's happy. A total of about 10 logbooks signed. Completely traceable right?

Except these logbooks were all filled out by a bunch of 19 year olds and a civilian contractor who could give two shits whether or not a $350k piece of equipment ever made it to where it needed to go because he clocks out at 330 and it's never the contractor's fault... Blame the Marines.

So a week later a Gunny Sergeant from the warehouse calls and asks for PFC hungry_lobster. Yes gunny, no gunny. We do the monkey dance. I exchange pleasantries with this gunny who clearly is overweight and puts no effort into looking like a motivated killer for democracy.

He asks questions and i direct him to his the shipping guy who signed my logbook. Another week goes by and shit, now their OIC is aware and again I do the monkey dance with him and he goes about his way.

Another week and now there's a LtCol involved. All the logbooks are signed and still this thing hasn't turned up. 350k missing...into thin air. Eventually the end of the exercise is closing to an end and I was the last Marine to have hands on it and lord know the contractor isn't catching the blame for this
.
Eventually they call it a loss and fill out the required paperwork to basically make this thing disappear.
Guess what? Somehow the used part made it back onto the aircraft and the new one was put back on the shelf. If you work in avionics or any sort of aircraft maintenance you can imagine how bad that is.

Not only that but that equipment technically doesn't exist now. I had the privilege of being able to say "PFC don't know." There were high ranking officers looking for this thing meanwhile it was flying around the Arizona desert. Anyway it got swept under the rug I'm sure.

Username: hungry_lobster

At a state college in an 'apartment' style dorm that has 5 single bedrooms, 1 double, a small living room, and two bathrooms. All my roommates leave to go to a concert on campus. I have to study for a chem test the next day so responsibly decline the pre-game and show. This is a cautionary tale to not open your door for drunk people...

At around 8pm I hear people loudly stumbling in the hallway through the cheap paper mache walls followed by someone lazily slap-knocking on my 'apartment' door. Looking for any excuse not to study organic chemistry, I open it without thinking and see two sweaty ugly chicks.

Let's call them Brittany and Alexis because I have never met one of those that I've liked. They live right across from me and we've never hung out. The least drunk of the two, Brittany, is awkwardly puppeteering her catatonic friend, Alexis, inside my place and heads straight (read: zig-zag) for my bathroom.

I ask her if her friend is ok, and if she got locked out of her apartment. Brittany confidently says, "she's fine! Don't be silly I have my key right here", and holds up the lanyard that cattlebrands you as a freshman. I ask if she needs help getting Alexis ten steps to her own door, and Brit again tells me everything is fine while leading Alexis to the sink.

I'm begging her to please let me help her get back to their place because I am Nostra-fucking-damus and can see the future. Knowing I'm running out of time I plead with her to at least guide the corpse to the toilet but then the dry heaves start and the lifeless puppet Alexis death-grips the sink. The battle of reason was drowned out with Keystone and what must have been Panda Express orange chicken splattering my sink.

Brittany tries to make small talk with me as Alexis' soul comes out through her mouth and nose. I think the worst is over but Brittany cuts off whatever incoherent string of words she thought would sound like English, because she starts to dry heave. Brittany takes her fingers and shoves them down her throat nonchalantly and starts to help fill the clogged sink.

Then in a bizarre and enduring show of affection they start to help each other throw up on each others hands by shoving their fingers down their own throat and then the same fingers down their friend's throat. It took at least a week before my body could physically muster an erection. I felt like I was watching above myself watching this fucking mess unfold in front of some other bastard.

The sink is full and both of them are alive thankfully. As I lead them to the door Brittany refuses to leave until I give her a hug. Brittany is a 3 maximum without being drenched in vomit. I say ok after an awkwardly long argument, as long as they leave.

She then grabs me like Lennie would a rabbit and says she'll leave if I give her a kiss. Long story short, I tell her to, "fuck off cuz if you don't remember being a cunt tomorrow morning then you won't remember me being an asshole tonight". Boys come back two hours later after having cleaned everything and don't believe me until I show them the picture I took of them finger fucking each others mouths.

Brittany later became a lesbian and was living with some older woman in the same apartment complex as me a few years later. Alexis continued to be devoid of any personality for as long as I kept having to run into her.

Username: CapnCrunchInjury

Sigh. Her name was Baby. I'm ashamed of this even though I think I emerged out of it as well as I could have. I was underage drinking at a college bar there was kind of a crazy girl. She flashed on the dance floor. I don't really remember how but she ended up at my table of 4-5 or so guys.

She told us all sorts of crazy stuff like sleeping with her boss for a 50 cent raise. Her story was that she didn't have a ride or a phone and was from the next state over. It was closing time.

I felt bad that she'd be left on the streets. Rapey guy who happened to be staying at my house wanted her to come back and "train fuck her." We left the bar and she followed us and immediately took off her shorts in the parking lot.

We told her to put them on. We basically figured at this point that she was coming to our house. One other guy and I were concerned that she was bombed at 2 am with nowhere to go. One guy was rapey. the other two just wanted to see where the night was heading.

We walked the four blocks to our house and she jumped on my back and told me she was a virgin... after the whole sex for raises story. I put her back down. We got to my house (the guys in with are housemates or weekend guests of housemates).

I don't recall timelines here. Keep in mind I was 20 and drunk. She went upstairs. I have no idea what I was doing downstairs. When I came up she was on a bed performing digital acts upon herself in front of several guys. I tried turning the lights off and throwing her her clothes.

They turned the lights back on and as I was standing there pushed me onto her. I broke away and told her to go downstairs. I found out later that rapey houseguest started all this by putting her in the bathroom and doing digital things of his own.

At this point one guy leaves because he wants no part of any of this. I took her to the bathroom to pee and she started screaming that her uterus hurts over a recent abortion. I should also add she had recent scars on her wrists from attempted suicide.

This is a shit show. I've got a drunk/high out of her mind girl who just had an abortion and attempted suicide in my house with a rapey guy and at least a few who wouldn't object to something happening.

I put her in my room. I also was in said room. She attempted to initiate somethingand, I refused and she fell asleep. I laid in my bed composing shitty music trying to stay awake all night until about 5 when I fell asleep. I woke up maybe a few hours later. I woke her up (naked, but not raped) and told her it was time to go.

She stood up and peed into a large empty can of protein powder I had in my room. My jaw dropped. I told her to get in the bathroom and grabbed her clothes and left them on a chair outside of the bathroom. I asked her if I could call anyone she needed to. All the numbers she gave me failed.

She stormed out of the bathroom and said, "Well you all had a good time last night." She left the house. I called the police and said we let a drink girl sleep it off and she has recently attempted suicide and had no means of getting home.

It was awful. She said her name was Baby. I hope she's doing better. There were serious issues with her life from what I gathered. That was a shit show. I wasn't innocent, but I tried my best to keep things from going really bad. I hope that that shitty night was the best possible timeline of all the dreadful nights she could have had.

Username: Flex_Armstrong

Mine is a norovirus (winter vomiting bug or stomach flu) story. The trick with noro is to catch it twice a year, because then the symptoms stay subclinical (you feel a bit sick and have mild diarrhoea). If you actively avoid it when you DO catch it, and YOU WILL it's gonna be another 36 hour trip to Hell.

Our worst ever Noro was a couple of years ago. It was getting towards bedtime when my 7yo began throwing up. I sat with her through the initial 3 or 4 vomits, at which point she said she was exhausted, so i put her to bed.

By then it was pretty late so i stuck the 3yo (who was fine at that point) in bed too. Then the 1yo did an amazing yellow-foam nappy that smelled like something had died, laid on a beach for three months, then crawled up his arse. I changed him, disinfected my bathroom for the 4th time and then i started to feel it hitting me too.

My husband came home and was promptly sent out again for toilet roll, bleach and electrolytes. As soon as he'd left i started throwing up. While he was out my eldest began to moan. I crawled out of the bathroom, where i had been hugging the porcelain and vomiting profusely, into their room and found that she had thrown up. In her sleep. In the top bunk.

The vomit was all across her bed, down the wall, on her sister's bed, in her sister's hair, and on every toy and bit of carpet within a 6 foot radius. Because of the ill i hadn't picked the room up so there were a LOT of toys lying in range! I got her out of bed, put her in the shower, went to change her sheets and found the vomit was in the bed frame, in between all the wooden slats and EVERYWHERE.

My husband came back at the point when i was on all fours in the middle of their floor next to a vomit soaked mattress and pile of disgusting sheets, throwing up into the bowl i'd optimistically given the 7yo when i put her to bed.

Somehow i got the sheets changed, everyone washed and put back in bed, the toys rinsed in the shower and into a hot wash and everything settled (i wouldn't let my husband help because it hits fast and i needed him to stay well until i got better or we'd be all five of us down at once!). Finally i fell exhausted into bed about 1am.

The next morning at 5am the 3yo is crying in her bed. I run and take her to the toilet, pull her night-nappy down, sit her on the loo and crouch in front of her. The poo is running out of her like water and she's sobbing "bad poos! bad poos!" at me.

Then she pauses, gets this look on her face, then projectile vomits straight down. Unfortunately the nappy is still around her ankles and the vile stream hits the crotch of it and BOUNCES up and all over my face and chest.

At that moment my husband puts his head around the door to see if we're okay...no, no we're not okay. I got us both into the shower, disinfected AGAIN, put her in clean PJ's and back to bed, went back into my room just in time top see a double stream of yellow foam jetting out the sides of the 1yo's nappy and all over my side of the bed (where my husband had put him to wait for me when he woke looking to breastfeed).

I can laugh about all this now, but whenever they're coming down with something i remember picking the foul chunks out of that bunk bed frame...

Username: flamin_nora

I played rugby in college, and - surprise! - we liked to drink after games, oftentimes with the other team if they weren't shitty people. The first game of the fall was always an out of conference game against a nearby school with whom we'd always had an informal, friendly rivalry, and after every game the home team would host a drink up at a team members house.

This year, in addition to the entirety of both teams, other parties present included the female ref (an alum of my school), the coaches of the other team, as well as their club's faculty liason, a rugby alum easily in his 60s.

The pub (as we called these events) was going extremely well. We sang rugby/drinking songs, exchanging new, hilarious lines with each other, including a few particularly raunchy lines from the old boy of the group. Pong was played, boat races were conducted (with my school coming away the victor each time), and an all around great time was had.

About an hour and a half into the party we decide to pit our best-drinking freshman vs. their best-drinking freshman in a thunderdome, a 1v1 contest of drinking fortitude in which each contestant drinks full-beer cups as fast as they can. A winner is crowned if they are three full beers ahead of their opponent; a contestant is disqualified if they vomit.

We take the party outside for this event (for obvious precautionary reasons), and our side wins. We are the proud victors on the pitch and in the pub this day. We are the alphas; the uber-ruggers. We have fully demonstrated our superiority in all facets of collegiate life to our hapless, pathetic opponents. The party remains outside, with lawn games being played, outdoor pong, more thunderdomes ("for fun", because we're savages), etc.

Now, the location for these festivities was a three-story house with an outdoor staircase in the back with decks built on each successive roof. The house was just outside the center of town, with one side of the yard adjacent to a parking lot, and houses on the other side.

With that in mind, here we all are, shithoused, in the middle of watching another thunderdome, when the entire party is doused with a warm liquid. Splashing us with warm water as a prank? Hmm, wouldn't be a very good one. Is it piss?

Doesn't smell like it, and that's a level we wouldn't stoop to. Then I look at my shoulder and see a fucking. ramen. noodle. Stunned, my eyes return to the rest of the party, similarly covered in curly, stringy noodles and a slightly-red liquid, and we all come to the same conclusion at the same time.

It was fucking vomit. Pandemonium erupts. I have never and likely will never see a scene like the one I saw then. Everyone was howling in rage, shock, horror. Everyone starts sprinting around the property like a bunch of chickens who saw a world-ending fireball fill the sky at the same moment their heads were removed from their bodies. Some players start vomiting in response.

Some are rolling on the ground, at turns trying to rub the vomit in the grass and laughing hysterically. Most of us start stripping off our clothes. The coaches/faculty have already booked it to their cars. I stood in line with about 20 other players waiting to rinse my arms and face off in the kitchen sink.

The ref is the only non student who is still around, and our captains are apologizing profusely to her, even as we all try to process what just happened. By the time I got back outside, everyone from the other team has dispersed, and one of our senior players + residents of the house had descended from the third floor to give us the details.

Thunderdome loser feels ill. He goes to 3rd floor to escape the party and settle down. He eats some food. He vomits into bag. Residents decide easiest mode of disposal is to fling the bag sidearm, from the 3rd floor deck, into the adjacent parking lot, where a dumpster was conveniently located, lid open.

Said bag rips apart and flings contents all over unsuspecting drunk college kids. If telling the story of the vom-bomb is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Username: raiders13rugger

My second cousins wedding. Everyone has a white trash branch of their family tree, this is part of mine. Let's start with the invitations: hand delivered to the people in the same towns or surrounding to save on stamps. The other family members didn't get invitations mailed though.

A few days before the wedding, they created a Facebook invitation and it was clear that this was because they only got a minimal amount of responses back and needed a more accurate count. Many people commented that they had no idea.

The wedding was in a park under a big tent next to a shelter with picnic tables. It was October, outside in the Chicago area. It was snowing of course. My family got there early and immediately realized this was going to be a weird white trash/Korean mixed wedding.

We had only met the bride once or twice (not a close part of the family), and all we knew was that she was Korean, we didn't know she was first generation American. The bride was standing in the parking lot directing people.

Everyone huddled in plastic folding chairs for the wedding. The colors of the wedding were camouflage and hunter's orange. Groomsmen wore camo vests with their tuxes and bridesmaids wore bright orange dresses. The music for the ceremony was a cousin manning an iPod poorly with no practice.

Skip to the reception under the pavilion. The cake was piles of grocery store cupcakes on the side. The meal was a buffet of cut raw vegetables with Costco bottles of ranch, ice cold pasta casserole, and fruit trays. Then there was a home made odd Korean BBQ. It was like mystery meat and the family members that were serving it didn't say what it was. It was also cold, there was no way to keep anything warm.

Open bar was open coolers of canned beer and handles of booze. They hired someone to try and serve, but it just ended up being someone to pour the shots.

Post ceremony dancing: again on the iPod, until it fell from the top of the speaker and broke. I stepped in with my phone and a paid Spotify account. As wedding coordinator at a country club, I know what songs would get people up, and it wasn't an hour of rat pack songs. It was about this time that I realized that there is no photographer. I set up a couple cute photo-ops but they were lost on these people.

I would guess that more than 50% of the wedding guests left right after the lunch. 25% were trying to make the most of it by dancing and drinking, while the last 25% were forging the woods looking for stuff to burn in the outdoor fireplace. Did I mention it was freezing cold? No heaters provided, 3 walls to the tent, blustery winds.

The only saving grace of this wedding was the drunk groomsmen who snuck full bottles of booze into the trunk of my car towards the end of the night. The next day the bride said on Facebook that it was the wedding of her dreams, so at least she was happy!

Username: allibun

Its 11:45pm and I'm about to finish my shift at the RSL club I worked at. It had been a busy night and I couldn't wait to go home and put my feet up. Upstairs in the auditorium the music was still pumping but the foyer area where the reception desk was had become really quiet so I started getting my stuff together, ready to head home at 12am.

11:55pm rolls around and I'm almost out the door when I hear an almighty scream coming from the auditorium then two guys come running down the stairs into the foyer screaming "CALL AN AMBULANCE HE'S BEEN GLASSED". I've seen some bad injuries in my time but I shit you not, the front of this man's scalp was dangling at weird angles. Oh the blood. It was everywhere. There were pools of it down the stairs and all throughout the foyer. It was a sight.

The security guards quickly ran in to the auditorium (ensuring they steered clear of the mess this poor guy had made) leaving one guard behind. This particular guard, we'll call him Sam, was really not cut out for the job so he was kind of just standing there waiting for the other guards to sort it out when three dodgy guys walk straight out the front door.

Meanwhile, I'm on the phone calling 000 whilst simultaneously yelling at the victim's friend to not give him any water and to make sure he's still conscious. Another friend of the victim then comes running at me and yells "THAT'S THEM! STOP THEM!". Sam basically freezes up whilst the blood rushes from his face. So Sam kind of starts pacing a bit, waiting for the other guards to come and help him. They're obviously still searching for the guys who have now left so I scream at him to go after them.

My manager comes bolting down the stairs without thinking yelling "What's happening? What do we do?" and as I'm trying to tell him to watch where he's going he basically slip n slides his way through the pools of blood in the foyer over to the reception desk where I am still on the phone to emergency.

A crowd has now formed on the balcony overlooking the foyer, other patrons are yelling at me because they want to get items from the cloak room and leave but they're not allowed in to the foyer meaning they're stuck inside, the victim is freaking the fuck out, there's blood all over the place and now the police have stormed in with the three dodgy guys and Sam in tow.

The phones are ringing off the hook, the victims friends are trying to beat the shit out of the culprits and my dreams of heading home are now a distant memory. A bundle of incident reports and police statements later I finally got home at 4:15am. Got paid overtime though so at least there was some kind of silver lining. Shit show indeed.

Username: VioletBermuda

The toilet incident aka why I don't drink Captain Morgan's anymore. I was doing fine drinking beer, ran out of beer, my friend had a bottle of C-Mos 100 proof. Just a bit stronger, but that shit'll sneak up on you. So at the end of the night, I'm about to walk home, and I have to piss.

There was a toilet upstairs where everyone was sleeping (it was 530 am) and one in the basement. And it was about 4 feet away from the wall, because the basement was unfinished and there was plumbing there, so the previous owner's installed a toilet. I went downstairs to not disturb anyone. On my right was about 6 loads of laundry.

So I start pissing. I'm a little wobbly (k, I'm almost falling over) so I place my hand on the tank and lean on it a bit. The toilet wasn't bolted down properly, so the whole thing rocked backwards, and the lid of the tank falls on the laundry.

Nbd. Finish my piss, place the lid back on. And crush my finger in the process. So my hands fly up, the tank flies up, lands back on the toilet, splits in half. FUUUUUCK. Okay, so I squat over the toilet and, using my forearms, bring the sides of the lid back together, squaring off the back with my hands.

And then I fell over. Basically hugging the toilet. The toilet popped right off the mounts, ripped right off the water main, and broke into ~25 pieces. Water is spraying EVERYWHERE, and of course I can't find the valve. So I ran upstairs where 2 of my friends were just getting ready to leave.

"Dude! Come downstairs, I fucked up!"
"Fuck off mockingbird13, I don't want to see the shit you just took."
"No, seriously man, **I fucked up!**"

He saw the look of shear terror on my face and came downstairs. I'll never forget how he poked his head around the corner, and his eyes widened and he said "you *did* fuck up." So I screamed that I knew, and to come help me. Obviously he doesn't want to get wet so he stands back, finally sees the valve ("it's under that pink towel!") and I got the water shut off.

Surveyed the carnage (ended up ruining about 4 towels). Went home, fired off a 6 page apology letter of a text to my buddy who owns the house. Replaced the toilet the next day. Haven't mixed a spiced and coke since. That was about 4 years ago.

Username: mockingbird13

Many years ago('98), a friend of mine and myself decided to drive up to Orlando for a few days, and for various reasons did not get to leave town until well after midnight. After an hour or so on the road, we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere and getting hungry, when up ahead we spotted a 24-hour Shoney's. We decided to stop.

The parking lot was filled with motorcycles, and on entering the resturant saw immediately that half the place was packed with several loud, rough looking middle-aged redneck bikers. Most of them were fully accessorized with body piercings and tattos, confederate flags being a common theme. They all appeared to be in various states of intoxication.

We had just made our first trip to the breakfast bar, and had been eating silently for a few minutes when the sounds of heavy bass began to rattle the windows. As we turned to look, and the bikers scowled with disapproval, a dozen or so tricked out lowriders came rumbling into the parking lot and we soon found ourselves joined by several dozen punk teenage wiggers. (It was like one big Justin Bieber look-a-like convention had come to town.)

As the teenage wiggers dropped f-bombs and flashed "gang" signs to one another, while frequently shooting hard looks at the bikers, and the redneck bikers shouted amongst themselves across the room and opined loudly about the kids' choice of "n*****" music, while sending equally challenging looks back to the teens, my friend and I sat quietly chewing our food in the middle of all this, wondering how we had found ourselves in this potentially volatile situation.

It turned out we did not have to wait long for things to get out of hand, fast. To be fair, we aren't sure which side instigated what, first, but all we know is that at some point not long afterwards, an altercation broke out near the breakfast bar, and within a matter of seconds Shit Got Real.

Picture a wild west saloon brawl, or the Tortuga bar scene in Pirates of the Caribbean, and that is exactly what was going on in there. Beat downs were being handed out left and right, and plates and chairs were flying everywhere.

We ducked down in our booth as a cup exploded on the window next to us, and decided it would prudent to nope the fuck out of there as quickly as possible. The cops would surely be on their way any minute, and in that crowd our possibilty of getting shot or stabbed was increasing by the second.

We waited for an opening, then at the first opportunity made a dash for the door. Along the way, we nearly got nailed with another flying cup, and had to step over some guy that had just gotten knocked on his ass, blood flowing freely from his nose.

We had just got back on the road, driving in shocked silence, when my friend took a glance in his rearview and said "Holy shit!". I turned and looked to see what had to be every cop in the county converging from both sides at that one resturant. Looked like a string of Christmas lights. So we definitely dodged a bullet there, and we did get a free meal out of it.

Username: [deleted]

Amsterdam, the Netherlands, I was out with a mate clubbing. We had booked a hotel room for the night to stay in after we were done pouring alcohol. We had bikes of our own and placed them on Leidseplein (for everyone who knows).

We went to several bars and nightclubs stuffing ourselves with way to much drinks than needed. Around 3 in the morning we decided it was enough, we were wasted. We get back to our bikes only to find out they were stolen, fucking hell.

We had to walk back to our hotel, and it wasn't easy in our drunken state. Fortunately, we ran into 3 girls from Manchester. They asked us if we would split a cab. Wasted as we were, we definitely need that cab. We introduced ourselves, but to this day we can't remember what the hell their names were.

They said they were headed for the same hotel as we did (coincidence?). The girls asked us if they could come to our hotel room. My friend and I hesitated for a moment, if they had the intention of doing something, well, you know, we didn't want to since we don't take advantage of drunk girls (it's just an excuse since we were definitely not sober enough for sex).

We agreed only if it was just for chilling. It was not just for chilling..... Things happened, I can't remember if it was good or not though. Next morning we wake up, finding that all of our stuff was gone. Cellphones, wallets, AND OUR FUCKING CLOTHES. These bitches took all of them, they were gone. We only had our underwear and shoes.

We were pissed, and we argued for a solid 10 minutes about who was going downstairs to the lobby to call the police. I had to go goddammit, but then I remembered that the girls were staying in the same hotel! I thought, nah, too easy. But hey I gave it a a shot.

I took the elevator, with only a boxer, to the lobby. I explained everything to the receptionist, who was actually really nice and didn't laugh at me at all. She asked if I had names or if I could describe the ladies of Manchester. I did that, she called the police, checked if there was a room booked for 3.

There was, but only 1. I got back to my hotel room with 2 officers to get my friend, and we walked to the room where the girls would've stayed. Officer knocked on the door, no answer, knocked again, no answer. He asked a cleaning lady for her keycard, so he wouldn't have to kick in the door.

He opened the door, and holy shit, the girls were there! Only, not in a very good state. One was on the bed, covered in vomit, while the other one was naked on the floor, with MY wallet in her hand. The last fine lady was in the bathroom, covered in shit and vomit.

We really had no clue what was going on, but according to officer number 1, they had taken drugs. A lot. We didn't know when they did that, definitely not at our room! We had to answer some questions before we could go, but for us everything was in order.

The girls, we don't know what became of them. I kid you not, this really happened 2 years ago.

Username: WreckingRaven

Before my mother and father got their divorce, I remember this one time we were in Walmart and my mother threw a temper-tantrum in the middle of the Chip/Snack Food Isle. Both of my parents have multiple serious addictions, and I believe at the time she was trying to quit cold-turkey on both smoking & drinking.

She just had my little brother and she wanted to finally be a "mom" and not a 16 year old party girl (which she still think she is.). And my very controlling manchild of a father was starting to get into more hardcore drugs.

So, we were shopping in Walmart, which was an exciting thing since we live in a small town far from any city or mall (and my mom hated to travel and places where she was required to "adult"). Anyway, I think everything is going good, I had my brother looking at baby things and clothing for kids (I was 7 at the time.) parents gave me a walkie talkie, after which they go off to a different isle.

After shopping a bit (putting things my brother needed and I wanted in the cart) I decide to find my mother and father, I believe it was because I wanted to use the washroom or I wanted to leave.

So, I find my mother and she is arguing with my father about something. It could have been money, the other women he was seeing, the drugs, or a combination of those things. I was 7, I didn't care, it was normal for them to be at each other's throats every 2 - 3 hours.

Anyway, I think that everything will just go back to simmering until we got back home, because we were in a public place. But, no. My mother starts grabbing chips off the shelf and throwing them at my father and on the ground and screaming/crying/swearing bloody murder. People are looking at us, my mother then storms off (thank goodness my father had the keys to the car) and she waited in the parking lot.

My father is just as angry with her and tried to follow her, but remembered that he has children. (One thing my father never forgot was that my brother and me existed). He takes us to the till, all pissed off, but by the time we got to pay he had calmed down.

That was the biggest public shitshow I witnessed. Apparently now, you can still go to the local bar (they still live in the same town) and witness a shitshow between them whenever they happen to be there at the same time. I've been told it's like an episode of Jerry Springer...

Username: KisaTheMistress

A few years ago I went to visit my sister while she was living in Boston. We decided to celebrate the Fourth of July at Martha's Vineyard where her fiancé's friends had rented a house for the weekend. We spend the day at the beach and then go to the house for a lobster bake (or something to that effect).

I watched all these native Bostonians eat lobsters like savages and eat sandy clams. But none of that is the actual shitshow. I am the youngest person in this group and have been drinking all day. By the time we get to dinner I'm just a few sips from a blackout.

We walk around somewhere looking for a bar. The bar we find is ridiculously crowded and I have some social anxiety that is heightened by mind altering substances. Some girl passes out at the bar and they have to call an ambulance but are stabilizing her on the patio and won't let anyone outside.

Some girl who was with us is ugly crying about how this random girl is dead. She was very much alive. After being trapped in this crowded ass bar for what felt like a lifetime my anxiety was through the roof so once I'm allowed outside again I decide it's time to go back to the house. I find a taxi and give them the address.

The taxi driver wants to pick up more people so I'm waiting in the cab and my sister starts calling me. She tells me they have a taxi and to go to with them back to the house. I ditch my cab find the group no taxi in sight and it won't be there for 45 minutes. I get belligerently angry and decided that I'm just going to walk back to this house because it's not that far and well lit all the way there.

The first part of the walk some guys are walking with me which was weird but they were friendly enough. Then I get to the end of some houses and it's just darkness on this road. There's a street light maybe every 100-150 yards. I'm alone on an island blackout drunk in the middle of the night in complete darkness.

Anyways, I sprint the distance between street lights and rest under the light. Thank god for google maps and sturdy sandals. I made it to the house an hour and a half later took 3 shots and passed out outside at a table on top of lobster guts from dinner. I really let my 23 year old show and the ferry ride the next morning was my personal hell.

Username: janaynaytaytay

This isn't as good as the last two I read, probably doesn't even count, but here goes...
I wasn't even in my double digits yet, but it was this one summer where my brother and I were just roaming around outside.

He insisted on seeing if his friend could come hang out with us. His friend is a trouble maker to the bone, getting in fights, hitting on older women, and even sometimes smoking. So at the mention of him I'm out and start heading back home.

Now, I've always been-according to others-one of the "good guys", a boy scout so to speak. So when I saw someone struggling to carry a boat-load of groceries up some stairs, I asked if she needed any help. She said yes, and after I helped she offered me money.

I refused then of course, so instead she gave me a bag of these giant apples. Being the "good kid" I was, I figured "Hey! I'll share with my brother and his friend!". I thought it'd help us bond a bit and keep his friend occupied and out of trouble. Little did I know...

So I take one apple and kindly offer them the other dozen or so. The kid doesn't even take a bite before he sees his first victim: an elderly man struggling to ride a bicycle. My brother's friend chases the man down, cocks his arm back like Derek Jeter, and beams the old guy right in the back, knocking him off the bike. I demanded the bag of apples back, only to be cursed at and threatened in response before they run off.

So I'm sitting on the sidewalk by my house hours later when the ice cream truck pulls up. None other than my brother's friend is the customer, apple bag still in hand. Before I can even imagine what's going to happen, this little demon pitches an apple right into the ice cream truck driver's face. Right in the face, and runs off, laughing. Minutes later the ice cream truck is down the street serving more kids when an apple flies right through the open window on the side.

Finally unable to control himself, the driver sees me and my brother by his friend and immediately we're guilty by association as far as he's concerned. Before we know it the truck's headed straight for us. My brother and I are running for our lives, but his sociopathic friend is just giggling.

The ice cream truck driver chased us a few blocks away into this woodland looking area. By now I've lost my brother and his friend, so the driver's just after me since I'm the last one he saw. So I'm hiding in a ditch under some plants as he slowly inches by in his truck. I'm thinking I'm about to be kidnapped and strapped up in some cabin having ice cream shoved where the sun doesn't shine, but the driver doesn't see me. He finally gives up and drives away.

I returned exactly where I knew my brother and his friend would be: right outside his friend 's house. I've practically got fire in my eyes because the little douchebag is laughing everything over like he didn't just almost get us killed.

I started arguing with him, telling my brother we should ditch him, and the prick has the nerve to get mad at me and start shoving me. I warn him over three times before he continues shoving me and I just lose it, pick up a nearby small tree branch, and start walloping the daylights out of him as my brother watches.

The sound of the stick hitting him is so loud his mother comes outside. Seeing the carnage, she pulls him back into the house, and I finally snap out of my blind rage when the stick nearly hits her. She slams the door and my brother and I return home.

To this day I still remember it and laugh when the memory wells up. It's traumatizing because I've never been angered to the point of a freakout of that magnitude, even to this day. But it was a strong lesson for me in learning not to make the wrong friends, and not to let their chaotic behavior influence you. Still, you've gotta admit...that little brat had it coming.

Username: SCR33N_LAG

Alright get this. So I'm in China as a student at Shanghai U. I make friends with a Moroccan DJ who works at a bar right outside of the university, and he asks me to come to the bar a couple of nights to hear him perform.

I take some friends there, have some (reeeally cheap) drinks, and enjoy myself, dance a bit, all of that. It was a hole in the wall type place, and all the Chinese patrons would listen to is dated American pop (GaGa, Lil' Wayne, etc.), but we had fun after a couple drinks.

So one night I go alone to hang with the DJ, and the place was PACKED. We're having fun, relaxing, when suddenly I turn around and two Chinese guys are bowed up, chest to chest in the makeshift dancefloor. One pushes the other, says something in Mandarin about the other guy's girlfriend...

Then they have a dance off. I shit you not, they start pop-locking-dropping it right then and there, with some uncoordinated, drunken Chinese robot moves. They go back and forth, one clearly wins, the other walks off dejectedly to get another beer. But I'm not kidding when I say for about ten minutes there, they were going full-on hardcore dance off.

So the loser, let's call him, gets steadily drunk, starts trying to make moves on other girls as, still not kidding, his girlfriend left him for the winner (who, to be fair, was a pretty chill guy).

He starts dancing reeeally erratically. Hits a couple of girls on drunken accident. I was sitting next to the DJ and he points the guy out and was like "Yo he's gotta go."

So I get up, grab the guy (who was much shorter than I) by the shoulder and calmly say.
"Hey man, you gotta go."
"What?"
"You gotta go. You're hitting these women, and you're too drunk. The DJ wants you to leave."

I repeat a couple times in English and Mandarin, and he refuses. I give him a warning, go sit next to the DJ. The very next moment, dude is slinging elbows like he's in a moshpit or something, instead of getting way too hyped about "Poker Face".

I walk over to him, spin him around, and shove him, pointing at the door. He refuses again, so I pick him up and put him on my shoulders and carry him out of the bar. He grabs onto the doorway, so the DJ puts on a new song and helps me out.

We're outside on the street now, right next to a small sewage river outside of the bar, with a concrete railing so drunken students don't fall into a river of cheap beer and half digested noodles. The kid, now very agitated but not wanting to swing on an American with six inches of height and fifty pounds on him, starts yelling at me and the DJ. He tries to get past me into the bar a few times so I throw him out into the street, just telling him to leave. He bows up on me, and the DJ, who is short and very wiry, yanks him over by his arm.

And then it all goes to a soupy river of Chinese low-mein shit. The DJ pulls a long knife out of his boot and puts it to the guy's neck. He has him against the concrete railing and is nose to fucking nose with this poor Chinese guy, holding a knife to his throat. He starts screaming at him in Mandarin, and then says, completely calmly:

"Do you think they'll look for you in that river? I don't think so." I don't know who shit their pants worse, me or the Chinese guy. He starts crying and the DJ put the knife back in his pocket. He pushes the guy back in the street and the dude sprints back onto campus. I have never been more scared in my entire life.

Username: ProbablyGray

Late to the party, but I just wanted to share the beautiful maelstrom of shit that was my aunts second wedding. To start off, the ceremony was to be held in a small chapel in yosemite. I was about 11 at the time and thus my parents made the drive to this remote resort thing in the park where the reception/rehearsels were to occur.

We ended up getting lost and showing up about 6 hours late on the rehearsal day. This wouldnt be a super big deal, except that I was to be one of the ringbeares. Thusly, my mum was in hysterics as we tried to find the place. So I ended up being totally ignorant of the choreography of the the ceremony happening the next day.

The next morning we mosy on over to the chapel. Everthing seemed fine except for the fact that the bride hadnt shown up yet. Hours pass and she was still missing. Turns out that the sick vintage car that the bride rented to make her grand entrance broke down on a steep, narrow mountain pass.

Distraught, my aunt got out, devoid of fucks, and proceded to march down said road in full wedding garb. Tourists driving past began yelling out the window at her, mocking her and taking pictures of this tall chick in a bride gown booking it down the winding mountain roads.

The car with the groom also passed by this tragic spectacle, meaning that the soon to be husband witnessed her plight. I guess the couple seeing each other before the ceremony is some social taboo. Eventually word of the situation spread and whe was picked up.

Not off to a good start, but it gets better. They make it into the chapel, delaying the next scheduled wedding by hours. I, the ringbearer, somehow bullshit the planned routine with some prodding. The vows are spoken, kiss the bride ect. Then, the wedding officiant announces "I now pronounce you mr & mrs Smith."

Everyone gasps, as the offiant accidentally announced the last name from my aunts previous marriage. The second hand embarresment was crippling. Then the dj immediatly began playing the classic wedding exit song before the mistake could be rectified. Chaos. It was great. Everyone got quite shitfaced during the reception.

Username: pumpkinweasel

There was this one time I brought a friendly acquaintance of mine to a friend's party in college. Her name was Liz, and she was normally very quiet while sober, but she was the least-functioning drunk I've ever seen, and the sentiment was shared by many there at the party. She got loud, crude, obnoxious, angry, and occasionally violent. Also she had zero motor skills for some reason. She hit her head like 3 times because she couldn't stay standing.

Eventually she's put to bed at the friend's house, nearly dies because she wasn't put in recovery position and started doing her best Bon Scott impersonation. She screams at us when we try to give her a bucket to puke into, falls asleep again eventually.

Then she starts screaming in the middle of the night about how her phone was missing. One roommate in the house comes downstairs, tell her to STFU (in a much nicer tone though). She keeps screaming, roommate gives up and and goes back to her room. Liz then goes upstairs, tries to walk into roommate #2's room. It's locked though, so she tries roommate #3. Ding Ding, we have a winner.

She storms into this guy's room, shakes him awake at 3:30am while screaming about where he put her phone. The guy, Peter, is fucking clueless, still drunk and basically asleep.

So he chases this random drunk girl whom he's never met out of his room with a baseball bat, holds the door closed as she's banging away at it, and is more than prepared to use the bat if necessary. (By the way, roommate #2 and his girlfriend were in the next room, and overheard everything. They couldn't stop laughing.)

Next morning, I get a text from her. I should mention I had gone home the night before at the friend's behest, as he said they'll take care of her (they had frequent parties and were well-versed in randoms staying over).

I had sent her a text explaining where she was, how to get home, and to tell me if she was okay in the morning. Her response:

**"Hey, just got home. Found my phone, but I lost my knife."**
Pretty sure Peter shat a brick when I told their house about the text. To this day I don't know what she was referring to.

Username: JumpedAShark

For high school graduation, a group of my friends decided to go camping to celebrate. They were basically the epitome of stupid 16-19 year olds: drinking, being loud and obnoxious, etc.

Around midnight, someone gets the brilliant idea that a small group will go "scare" another tent by - SLASHING THE SIDE OF IT OPEN WITH A KNIFE - while yelling things like, "We're going to kill you!" to try and trick a stranger into thinking that they have woken up in a horror movie.

In the drunken stupor of the night, it was truly only meant to scare the other campers momentarily so that they could then turn around and say, "Gotcha!" and all would be fine.... but, obviously, yeahhhhh... not cool.

So they pick their target of a nice, new tent, walk up to it and slice it open - all while screaming they are going to murder whoever is inside. All of a sudden they hear, "Freeze! You're under arrest." Turns out the county had had a police retreat that weekend and they had cut open a police officer's tent.

An officer's tent that was surrounded by all the other officers' tents (maybe 100+ or so) of the entire county. After the initial body slamming to the ground, the officers quickly figured out that it was just a group of drunk kids who didn't have any real intentions of doing anything.

They had them handcuffed and laying on the ground, and just sat there laughing about how stupid they were before taking them in to get booked. A few months later this goes to court. Turns out the officers had the emblem of the county PD on the side of their tent, so they argued that the kids knew they were attacking an officer before they did so.

Given that half the group was over 18 at the time, it ended up that a few of them never got to walk for graduation (and are still in jail to this day) for felony assault on a cop. Granted, this was in the south, so they are lucky that they didn't cut open a tent to have someone just shoot them dead, but regardless, not the way they envisioned the night going.

Username: Pianopianoplanotexas

Back in the spring of my senior year of high school, it was time for the next go round of the ACT test. In our state, the ACT was the primary test for college entrance, the SAT isn't required at most state schools.

Of course the bastard starts at 8 am on a Saturday, and as per tradition several of the kids coming in to take the test are still drunk. One of my friends, we'll call him Jake, is legitimately still hammered.

Having a hard time walking straight, had to beg someone to sharpen his #2 pencil for him, brought a big bottle of water and had a hell of a time getting his driver's license out to prove he should be taking the test.

For the first hour, the only inconvenience other than Jake mumbling to himself is the overpowering smell of cinnamon. Not like someone just put in a fresh piece of chewing gum, but strong, sickly cinnamon. Then you can hear his stomach beginning to complain.

His cheeks puff up, I'm looking at his face between questions because I know that we've begun his well-known "Oh god oh god oh god I'm gonna puke" routine. The test proctor calls 2 minutes for the particular section of test we're on and I hear a burp that he couldn't strangle, followed by the beginnings of a geyser of vomit.

I grab my test booklet (the tests are standardized and if yours is fucked up you forfeit the money you paid to take this fucking test to prove you're worthy of being admitted to college), and push away from the table as fast as I can while saying "look out guys."

In the test conditions I may as well had been screaming, the proctor's head snaps up and she pops out of her chair prepared to find out who dares to interrupt the sanctity of her testing environment...as Jake begins to projectile vomit bright fucking red goop.

He managed to turn his hand and rather than destroying his test booklet is simply filling a lovely friend's purse with chunky red spew that smells horribly of cinnamon and oddly pizza. Much swearing pops up, the proctor is stunned, and all I can think is "I told this mother fucker Aftershock would be the end of him."

The timer begins to beep as the proctor is at a loss for what to do, the part of the room not sitting at our table is snickering and congratulating Jake as the girl who's purse is now holding a newly created toxic waste supply is in tears over her hand bag and its contents.

The proctor tells Jake to go to the men's room and then find a janitor and picks up all the test booklets. This was supposed to be a ten minute break section of the testing that took 45 minutes as the floor had to be cleaned, the table santitized, the owner of the purse calmed down and Jake fetched from the men's room where he'd begun a nap on a toilet after washing his face.

We then had a to sign a waiver stating we were willing to continue taking our tests, as there was no way to get us a refund for the testing fee (I think it was $36 + a proctor fee), and then try to get our brains back into gear as we still had over 2 hours of testing to complete....all the while breathing in that sickly sweet tang of cinnamon.

And wouldn't you know it, Jake couldn't remember the test or the vomit, but scored his highest test score moderately unconscious and completely drunk.

Username: Bigbrianj

Buckle in. I don't have a long one I just suck at keeping these short... So I come home from college one weekend while my parents are out, and my younger sister (still in highschool) decides to throw a party...

And what you have to understand about my sister is that she's the party mascot for everyone who isn't in the popular crowd. Her ability to bring people, drugs, and alcohol together is nothing short of Disney movie magic. So a bunch of people eventually start showing up and I party with them for a bit.

But as more people show up, the age average starts to drop to jr high levels and I decided to slip out of the pervy teenage pool before someone tries to get my back wet. So I sneak out and go crash in our tiny back house.

I wake up in the morning and grab my stuff to go in to shower and get ready, thinking I'll probably have a fair amount of cups and snacks to clean up, but nothing major cause the party seemed like a good level when I left and all the cars are gone.

At this point I open the back door and immediately drop my shit with my jaw following soon after. Couches are upside down or missing, there are cups and bottles (some broken) everywhere, disco and strobe lights still on, whip cream and chocolate all over the walls and ceilings, fruit and vodka gummies stuck around the kitchen... I mean it looked like a God Damn Hollywood party movie set.

Astounded (and slightly impressed) I decide to go ahead and at least go take a shower before kicking my sisters' ass out of bed... Problem is when I get to the bathroom I find a giant sign on the door with the drunken scrawl of "JADES ROOM. FUCK OFF!!!" So I knock.

No answer... I push the door open and ask if anyone's in there. No answer... I walk in and there's a spotlight on in the very back over the toilet highlighting the thrown, a partially eaten loaf of bread, a mason jar of water, and a pair of pants. Logically I decide this must mean that jade has taken up residence in the tub, sans pants, as is customary.

But I pull back the curtain and its empty. I reallocate her rations to the hall and take a shower. By the time I'm out my sister is up and I ask if jade was in her room, she says no and we search the house to no avail. We then text jade about her belongings which she replies with I'll get them in a minute...

Confusing both my sister and I since we've already searched the house and her car is gone. Turns out she had manage to crawl up to the top bunk in my sisters room and wedge herself between the wall and mattress. it then took us the entire rest of the day to clean up that mess, kinda makes me wish I'd stayed for the whole shitstorm...

Username: LadyClairence

Guy I did some work for decided to let his best friend stay at his house so he could get back on his feet after a divorce. Problem is both of them are total alcoholics.(reason for the divorce) However the homeowner is the definition of a "functioning" alcoholic, you can never tell he's drunk. But the guest is "that guy" Gets shittered and pisses and vomits all over himself and anything in a twenty foot radius. I remember thinking "well this oughta be good."

Anyways after a couple months and many fights, things finally got really out of hand one night. The guest is mouthing off and the homeowner has had enough, and he drops him with a hard hook. Its significant, but its happened a couple times before, so no one really makes a big deal.

But this time the guest gets up and runs downstairs, and a minute later returns armed with a wrench, and wearing his full-face motocross helmet. The owner disarms him and punches him so hard he shatters the fucking helmet.

Now the guest is enraged that hes been beaten twice and his expensive helmet is broken. So he takes things further by running away and returning with a jerry can of gas and a lighter screaming how hes gonna burn the house down.

Now I know what your thinking, call the dam cops right? Not this guy. Once again he drops him and takes the gas away, and once again the guest gets up and runs away, but this time he jumps in his dam truck and roars off completely shit-faced.

Now the owner is so mad, he goes into the garage and proceeds to destroy the guests Honda motocross bike with a sledgehammer, which happens to be his most prized possession and the only thing he got out of his divorce. Not the smartest move.

Needless to say when the guest returned(which astounded me that he didnt crash or hurt someone) and discovered his bike, he cranked up the shit-o-meter to fucking 11. He drove his truck THROUGH the owners fucking LIVING ROOM. Almost hit the owners teenage son who was watching tv. The owner, myself and two other friends were in the kitchen at the time this happened.

NOW the cops get called by a friend while myself and the other friend do everything we can keep the owner from killing the guy. We managed to hold him off till the cops showed up, and the guest ended up spending a year in a mental institution. The really crazy part is, 3 years later, they're still best friends. Fucking alcoholic rednecks man.

Username: Seasquirl

This really was my friends witnessing but my husband and I ended up being a part of it towards the end. So, one of my husband and I's closest friends ended up moving from our hometown out to the state we live in now with us and working at the same place my husband does. When he first got here he was the bachelor on the town and was going out on some dates and hanging out with ladies.

Well, apparently one night when he was getting down and dirty with this girl, he's going to town and when he looks down he notices there is something all over him. Well, turns out while they were having the fun times she kind of shit all over the bed. The worst part was, it was at his house, on his sheets and aaaaaaall over him.

So they end the night, our friend is totally disgusted and proceeds to call us up and tell us about the incident. He's completely disturbed and does not want to see this girl again (they'd gone out maybe once or twice before this happened).

Fast forward to the next night. So, I guess this girl is pestering our friend to know if he wants to go out with her again. Our friend has no clue whether or not she realizes what had happened with the poop incident or not. We're all on Steam in Voice Chat playing some video game (it's irrelevant but pretty sure it was Guild Wars 2) and our friend is asking for our advice on how to dump this girl.

He keeps asking us, "should I tell her about the poop?" and we all go back and forth about what he should do. Finally we hear him typing a message to her and when he comes back he tells us he told her "You pooped on me!!!" as the reason why he was dumping her (no pun intended, or maybe intended, I am not sure at this point..)

We go back to playing the game for a bit, pretty amused that our friend had actually told this poor girl she had shit all over him and then our friend has to pause again because this girl has written him a text message back. He is in hysterics when he comes back to the game. Apparently she wrote back "#shithappens". That's pretty much the only legit 'shit' story I have. It was pretty damn funny.

Username: [deleted]