Humorous or Interesting, Yet Bad, Things You've Done

I think the title really explains it, but stories have you got about what have you done in the past that you're not especially proud of but are also humorous or interesting. Obviously I'm not looking for anything too bad like "I stabbed a guy, in the face!" - but otherwise go nuts. I've got two from my childhood that spring to mind:

So for the first as a child I was fascinated by the mute button on my Grandma's old tv set - for some reason it seemed almost magical to me at the age of five that a single button could completely stop and start sound. So one time, absent mindedly I left it depressed when I left after a visit. The next time I went round I heard that they'd got a handyman round and he'd charged over £150 to fix the tv - I felt terrible! I bet that dick was laughing his face off at how he'd managed to con that much just for unpressing a simple button. I never did tell my Grandma what I'd done.

The next story was when I was about ten, and for some reason one of my "friends" at school completely hated me. We were alone one time and he told "You're a gay dickhead, and I'm going to make sure no one ever likes you ever again." Now this might not sound too harsh, but bear in mind we were ten and he was being gravely serious. As to what I'd done to engender this strong hatred in him I still have no idea, maybe he was just an angry angry kid. When he told me that I knew one thing for certain; I was going to get even.

My brother always tried his best to annoy me, and being four years older he had a far more varied vocabulary of colourful words with which he could do so. One day shortly after the occurence with my friend he called me a necrophiliac so I asked my parents what it meant and they, knowing I could just look it up in a dictionary, told me the truth. Giving a ten year old knowledge of words like necrophiliac is like handing him a loaded gun.

Next day at school I told all my friends bar the douche about it and that we should call him it yet deprive him of the information. It worked as expected, and he was thoroughly miserable for about a week. Soon enough during my reign of terror however, me and a friend were called separately to the headmaster's office. They asked me where I had heard the word and if I knew what it meant, and sheepishly I responded with honest answers. They then proceeded to tell me it was a very bad and hurtful word and I should never call someone it again, though they didn't tell my parents presumably because they were concerned - regardless of the fact that I said my bother had called me it - for some reason they'd be pissed at the school.

As to how they got wind of me calling the guy a necrophiliac, apparently the boy understandably unhappy told his mother what he was being called. She didn't know what it meant either, and so had to look it up in a dictionary. Next day she came into school crying, saying something must be done about the two horrible boys who been making her son so upset! For some reason I always thought it was pretty special she'd had to look it up.

I'm not proud of the last one, but it is humorous and the guy was being a dick so it made me feel much better responding in kind and more effectively. There you have it, those are my two shameful yet hopefully interesting or humorous stories. Anyone else got any good or funny tales of shame? Don't be shy!

 

Some friends and I decided that we should, instead of forming a circle and smoke pot, vandalize the neighborhood by taking bags of paintballs and throwing them on houses and cars. The only reason we didn't smoke is because that one guy in the group was totally against pot but was completely cool with vandalism. Makes sense, I guess. It was supposed to rain that night, but it didn't. If it had, all of our mischief would've been washed away. We actually threw the paintballs hard enough to break on our targets. We got caught because we left a trail, and coincidentally the guy who didn't want to smoke had the same color paint in his gun, which happened to be in his SUV when he got stopped by the police after we finished for the night and were smoking pot on a burn ride in a separate car.
Only one person was going to press charges, but only if we didn't pay for the window we allegedly chipped by throwing paintballs, which would've been impossible if we were shooting them at the air pressures we used. Everyone else was just happy we offered to clean up the mess. For that one woman, we had to actually pay to replace the window, which came out to 60 dollars per person split up among 6 people, so $360 to avoid the thousands it would take to fight this woman in court.
Oddly enough, if we had smoked first, we probably wouldn't have thrown paintballs all over that neighborhood.

 

When I was about 13 some bastard stole my umbrella.

I knew who it was, having asked around, and confronted him. He denied everything.

I paced around for days, fuming at the injustice. Fuming, I say.

Some time later I happened to be behind this kid when he was at the top of a large flight of stairs.

I didn't think twice about it, but gave him a solid shove between the shoulder blades. Luckily, he bounced and rolled - and lived - and landed squarely at the feet of a teacher, who looked up to see me laughing solidly. Ah, justice! I laughed all the way to detention.

Epilogue: Years later I apologised sincerely to the guy, who brushed it off and admitted that he had indeed stolen the umbrella.

 

So far I'm apparently the only one whose story might have at most ruined someone's life, or at least potentially made them miss out on a nice job offer.

At any rate, several years ago I was finishing up one of my last rotations for my doctorate, which happened to be at a community hospital pharmacy. Now, I chose to do my last rotations in the town I grew up in since at the time I was a poor student who couldn't hold down much of a job since he was spending 50+ hours a week at a hospital and the rest of his time finishing his final papers. So I lived in my brother's basement where the rent was free.

One of the projects I was given by the head of the department was to give me managerial/administrative experience, and I was given the task of sorting through the initial batch of resumes/CVs for the opening that they had for a senior technician. I'm sure this "learning experience" was given to me because my preceptor didn't want to look through the piles of paperwork. It's worth nothing that this was a sweet job, full time with pretty good pay and awesome benefits. As I looked through the stack and got rid of the ones from people clearly unqualified or functionally retarded (some these resumes had fucking chat/texting abbreviations like "lol" in them, blew my mind) I came across a very interesting item. Namely, an incredibly well put together resume from a very well qualified candidate with lots of experience. This was clearly the best candidate of the group, but something about this particular application seemed familiar.

It was at that point that I remembered! Since I grew up in the town I was in I was able to recognize the name on the resume. This was a person in my same grade about 8 or so years ago, someone I went to high school with! And she was a complete bitch back then. I mean a horrible person, the kind that you wouldn't lose any sleep over if you heard they got ran over by a bus. I could recall several specific instances where she made my life back then miserable.

I sat there thinking for a long time, staring at that sheet of paper, thinking about this woman. Her resume was great, and I was certain that as long as she didn't flub the interview she'd get the job compared to the other applicants. I even called one of her references and everything checked out, she apparently was a great employee and a wonderful, friendly person.

Now, I realize a lot can change in ten years, especially from when you were some punk-ass 16 year old kid. Jobs and children and real life change a person, often for the better. I sat there in that office alone. And thought about all of these things.

I then promptly took her resume and tossed it into the privacy shredder with a smile on my face.

I later found out they hired some other chick that I recommended instead, and as far as I'm aware that "other" person is still working there. Heh heh.....

 

Stay on topic, Philes. This thread is about sharing bad things you've done.

Me, I stabbed a guy. In the face!

Other than that, I pushed a girl down some stairs. Not exactly intentionally, though. It so happened that back in my elementary school, while the dressing room for boys was on ground level, the one for girls was on -1 level, called popularly the Catacombs (wooo!), entered by going down some fairly long and creepy-looking stairs.

I was ten or so at the time, talking with some friends after P.E. next to those stairs when one of the girls from my class was climbing said stairs. Inspired by how epic that passage to the catacombs looked from ground level at the moment, as a joke I pushed her gently when she was at the top of the stairs and dramatically announced "Go back to hell, woman!". And wouldn't you know it, she did, all the way down. Voice of authority or what.

In the end nothing of great consequence happened, though maybe an ankle joint ended up dislocated and/or a leg broken.

 

I think it's safe to say that if I ever meet anyone from here in real life (though I do pray nightly to prevent that from happening) I'll make sure to stay away from the tops of staircases!

 

Once threw my ex-girlfriend into traffic.

 

No you didn't.

Wait, let me rephrase that...

Oh no you di-hint!

 

Back when I was in high school, my friends and I were cruising around town one night and looking for trouble. I spotted a contractor's sign in front of a construction job, and told the driver to stop so I could steal it. Hours later, the back of this SUV was filled with other contractor signs, campaign signs, reflectors, just about any kind of sign that could be snatched up without too much trouble. We even had one for-sale sign, though that turned out to be a real hassle to pull out of the ground. Under cover of darkness, we then planted all the signs in the yard of a girl we didn't like. Her parents were super pissed. It was great.

Another time, my friend and I drove around town a couple weeks after Christmas and filled the back of his truck with about eight discarded Christmas trees. We then used a post-hole digger to plant them in someone's front yard. Then we decorated them with toilet paper.

 

Back in high school some friends and I came up with the idea to start a petition to get water (dihydrogen monoxide, hydroxilic acid) banned in schools. We were just one thousand short of getting enough signatures to bring it before the legislature. It wasnt until years later we realized students in CA in the 90s did it first.


I stole a street sign that said Parking for Christian Worship Center Only. I found several of them in a parking lot for a porn store.


Found an oar in the basement of my house which was the only thing left by the previous owners. I brought it into school and started the cult of the oar to make a point to my theology professor that if you substitute any word for God it just becomes ridiculous and that the belief in God is equally ridiculous. I based my cult around the ten commandments. Thou shalt honor thy moth-oar and fath-oar (I am so punny!); thou shalt never take the oars name in vain; thou shalt not worship false oars; etc.

edit: apparently g.o.d comes out as Muro now. I blame xyle for the change.

 

I heard that Drog went down on an oar once.

 

Does it count when I drunkly went to my girlfriend's room (at school camp) and cannot remember what happend?

 

Yes I'd say the fact you gang-banged a hooker in your girlfriend's bedroom definitely does count. If you're wondering how I know that's what happened in there I don't, but a very wise man once said that's what you did in there so I'll take his word for it.

 

How odd - I don't remember telling you about that incident.