Tonight I have done one of the stupidest things I have ever done. I lost something behind the desk the day before, so I used a flashlight to find where it is. The flashlight was still in this room, so while I was waiting for my computer to reboot, I thought, “I wonder how bright that light really is?” So I looked straight at the bulb, and turned on the large flashlight. “Ohhh…that was dumb.” But wait! There’s more! I looked at the bulb AGAIN. :smack: Someone should put me in a straight jacket before I cause more harm. But I guess that’s ok, because then I can hug myself.
I’ve shone laser light in my eye, many times.
Had a race with a friend, him on foot taking a shortcut, me on a mountain bike not checking to see if the road had any moving cars on it before zooming into it.
Being macho bad-ass hardman I’ve grabbed, nay, picked up oven trays not long out of the oven (they actually do cool very quickly, but not that quick!)
In hospital, (at an early age) with a well and trully broken foot (caused by the dumb behaviour of playing with a heavy paving stone) I dropped a toy car. So I got out of bed to get it, on my BORKEN FOOOT!
I almost walked out of my house without pants. See, most nights I’ll go running. That particular night, I took off my jeans, changed my shirt, and put on my shoes. As I’m about to walk out the door, I realize my legs are a little cool, for there is a breeze. I look down, I’m only in my underwear.
And then there’s the “doing something you know will hurt but you do it anyway.” When I see a fan going, I want to put my finger in the blades. I know it will hurt. I know it’s not smart. But I do it anyway. In fact, while I’m doing it, I’m thinking, “Why are you doing this Rand? It’s going to hurt.” And it always does. But one day, I’ll catch it off gaurd.
Then there’s that time I cut myself with a knife. I had just discovered I could shave my legs with a knife, so I was doing that, amazed, when it slipped and I cut myself. I hurt like a bastard. Then I went back to shaving.
Then there’s that time(s) I went down the stairs in a laundry basket. And that time(s) when I jumped off the roof. And then there’s that time when I decided I would run down a steep hill (Hey, it was a dare). And of course, there’s many more.
Back in high school, my friends and I decided that the way to prove our courage/manhhood/stupidity was to have a contest to see who could dive off the roof into the shallowest part of the pool; the shallower the water, the more of a stud you were.
I can’t believe that none of us are parapelegics today.
Just reminded me. I’ve also done fairly standard dumb thing of cutting an apple while holding it, so that the blade carries on into my fingers.
There’s now a neat scar on two fingers, which I can line up (the scar) if I hold the fingers in an apple-holding shape.
I’ve been lucky with roofs. I’ve jumped of many without hurting myself, but I had one bad experience with a metal fence. Retrieving a football I skewered myself on the fence.
This list is sure to grow now that my brain is rummaging in the archives for dumb behaviour
I feel it’s important to list my age so you can fully comprehend the magnitude of my stupidity.
I stuck a knife in a lightsocket trying to remove a plug. I was 22.
I rode a shopping card down a hill and broke my wrist. i was 23.
I jumped off of an antennae tower (30-40 feet) onto a trampoline. It was like the trampoline wasn’t even there. I was 19 or so.
Stupid things I’ve thought (these injure nothing but my pride):
I had to run accross an open parking lot (no roof) in the pouring rain from the bank to the movie theatre when I saw a car leave it’s spot. The ground was dry so I thought to myself, “why don’t I stand there for a minute so I don’t get wet.” I stood in the spot for a second with rain still pouring on my head when I realised my miscalculation. When I told my brother in the movie theatre, he laughed so hard he cried. I was 26
I asked my mother if the pope’s son become’s the new pope when the old one dies. She didn’t tell me the answer, only asked me to think about it for a minute. I believe I was 16 or 17.
I don’t hurt myself very often, but when I do it’s very stupidly.
Once when I was a kid, I was amusing myself by stabbing the top of a pop can with a sort of fingernail cleaner/cuticle pusher, until I missed and stabbed my hand. It folded in a nice triangular piece of skin that I couldn’t get out, so I still have a little scar.
Then when I was an adult I got a bit smarter. I took a pan out of the oven, took off the oven mitts, and the decided to move it for more counter space. I reached out, thought “Uh-oh! Don’t burn the fingers!” and gave the pan a nice slow push with the back of my hand. I’d rather have been standing in the rain.
Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I know a guy who shot himself with a BB gun to see if it would hurt. He was around 23 or 24 at the time.
And yes, pretty much everything in this thread sounds like the result of a severe case of testosterone poisoning.
As for stupid things I’ve done, the only one I’ll admit to is attempting to straighten the cut while slicing an extremely stale bagel. The scar goes most of the width of my thumb.
I was once trying to hem a pair of jeans without a thimble. I was surprised to discover how easily a needle will penetrate a fingernail to the bone. :eek:
I’m sure my explanation didn’t help. Everytime my brother and I think about it we crack up. Things like that are the reason why I’m not very hard on Jessica Simpson for the things that come out of her mouth (buffalo wings, chicken of the sea).
Don’t feel to bad. A few months ago, I was at a friends house and he had one of those air soft guns. So, for like thirty minutes, I was shooting various things in his room. I got bored, looked around to see if anyone was watching. When they were, raised the gun about six inches from my arm, closed my eyes because I knew it was going to hurt, I just wanted to know by how much, and fired. I screamed, everyone just looked at me. I explained, and they all did that slow head shake thing parents do when they’ve given up trying to understand why you do the things you do.
This is why I shouldn’t read SDMB in Biology. Right now we’re discussing dominant/recessive traits. I got some great thought trains shooting around in my head.
I haven’t actually done many stupid things (apart from sword-fighting my brother with chisels. Nice little scar on the middle knuckle of my right ring finger.
My dad is the one that did stupid things with me. Dropped me on my head onto concrete, threw me up into a fan etc. etc.
I could go on for hours. I was the first child, my mother never let my dad anywhere near my brother as an infant.
When I was a very young kid my Mom was telling our family at the dinner table a story about how she accidently stapled her finger at work and about how freaking bad it hurt and how she cried in front of everybody and got real embarrased over it all.
Me being the little kid I was started to think. “Mom cried over a staple in her finger? Hmm, I bet I could staple my finger and not cry about it. Mom’s a wuss.”
So I go right over to my Dad’s desk, find the staple gun and proceeded to staple my finger.
My brother and I used to have a contest where we would put our hands on the electric burners on the stove, turn it on, and see who could keep their hand there the longest.
This one I’m probably not alone (because I knew other kids who did it) but one time I sprayed hairspray all over my hand and then set it on fire. Some other kid told me “it doesn’t hurt. The hairspray just burns, not your hand.” That was the old aerosol stuff you could make a “fireball” with. Well, it hurts.
Not me, but Lady Z and I were watching TV and a commercial came on for one of those auto-set alarm clocks (the ones that reset the time whenever you lose power) and she looks at me and say “How does it know when you want to get up?” I lost it. The really funny thing is that I have an alarm clock that does the same thing as the one in the commercial.
