I was wondering that, too. But then I thought that there might be bargain brands of synthetic doe pee out there. And then the dollar stores would have even cheaper processed doe-pee-flavoured substitute…
I don’t know, a Class A Idiot would’ve added soap and created Mustard gas. Using plain water, followed by milk if some of it remains, seems to be the most sensible reaction to mistakenly ingesting bleach or products that contain it.
Still, having a glass of bleach on the counter! :smack:
This vaguely reminds me of the :smack:-worthy call I heard on Click and Clack. This woman decided to be self-sufficient and change her own oil. So she emptied the transmission fluid and replaced it with oil. I still shudder thinking about that call.
There’s a new guy at my work named Bert.
The other day I’m sitting at my computer. Comfortable in the knowledge that I’m all alone, I decide to practice my best Ernie (as in Bert and Ernie) impersonation. I’m mainly doing this by saying: “Hey Bert!” over and over again in my best Ernie voice.
Then all the sudden I hear: “Uh… Hey.” So I turned around to see who it was, and sure enough, it was fucking Bert! We exchanged awkward glances (seriously, this guy had the biggest “WTF?” look on his face.), I then turned back around and continued with my work. (Sans the Ernie voice)
Dammit! New guy thinks I’m a retard.
Must be thing - I was riding and just daydreaming (no book, no hill). Next thing I knew, I was on the top of a parked car. Luckily, no one saw me, and I got back on my bike and rode home.
Then my mom asked me why my nose was green. Old car with no wax or clear-coat, I guess, and I had paint on my nose from it - so busted. Funny thing was, I would have said the car was black . . .
Typed a web address into the google search bar.
My father does this as his usual practice. Even if he knows the address, he puts it into Google, finds it, and accesses it. Drives me nuts, but I guess it’s his way to make sure it’s accurate?
My mother would have been appalled at the wastefulness of this – pouring out a whole glass of bleach to get enough to wet a Q-tip! Couldn’t you have filled the cap of the bleach bottle and then dipped the Q-tip in that?
She grew up during the Hoover Depression, and kept frugal habits all her life.
Mine too! She’s a boomer but her mother died when she was really young, So she spent her formative years in a Catholic boarding school, paid for by a friend of the family. I get most of my OCD from her, I guess.
Just recently, I was browning and seasoning ground-round for sloppy Joes in the fry pan, using a fork to stir the meat—and keeping the fork in the pan between stirs (yeah, I know). I used the same fork to taste the meat and badly burned my bottom lip with the metal tines. Minutes later, as I was still smarting from that burn, and not thinking, I did the exact same thing again! This time I actually heard my lips sizzle (trust me; this is not a pleasant sound when it emanates from your skin). I thought I’d permanently branded the tines onto my inner lips—but, luckily the scars healed, eventually.
Last year, I did a little grocery shopping and picked up an extra-large pizza, with multiple toppings on the way home. In the driveway, trying to carry all the bags and box in one trip, I put the pizza box under my left arm to free up my right. So, I carried the piping hot pizza vertically from the car to the table. My kids were not happy when I opened the box.
As a teenager my Dad sent me out to the back porch to take the T-bone steaks off the grill. As I was about to put the last steak on the patter, I lost grip on the greasy plate and all the plattered steaks slid onto the dirty concrete. I figured no real harm would come from me keeping the lone, pristine T-bone for myself and serving the dirt and ant encrusted steaks to my parents and siblings (I shook as much detritus as I could from the steaks I planned serving to my parents…and considered shaking them onto my older brother’s). Unfortunately, Dad was watching me through the window, so that plan didn’t work out the way I was hoping.
Not, me, but my Nana, when she lived with us when I was a kid: She was a lovable Edith Bunker-type dingbat, always having things go wrong, but usually in a humorous manner. We had something big and heavy delivered to the house and the delivery men were hot and sweaty when they were done. Nana offered them big, cold glasses of ice tea to cool them down. They enthusiastically accepted her offer. They both took a big swig from the glasses nana handed them; then almost immediately did classic comic spit-takes as they swallowed, with looks of utter revulsion on their faces. Nana inadvertently poured vegetable oil into their glasses over ice, instead of tea. They didn’t even hang around long enough for a tip after that.
I only poured about 1/4 cup in the glass, which was a small juice glass. Yes, normally I would’ve poured liquid in the cap but since it was bleach, I was worried about spilling it or having some slosh on me. I was rushing to work and wearing the blouse I needed to fix. But yes, I deserve a second :smack: for not filling a capful.
Do I get double-dumb points? 
My wife bought herself a Ninja food processor for Christmas. This model comes with attachments and blades to make it a blender and smoothie maker as well. All the blades (except the dough hook) are extremely sharp.
I have, as of today, drawn blood five times while cleaning the damn thing.
I forgot to turn the bathroom sink off after washing my hands the other day. Just dried my hands, walked away, and left the water running. I didn’t notice for about 15 minutes, and then only because I heard the noise and thought it was a problem with the toilet. I thought I had lost my mind.
When I was in grad school I left the lab to go home about 1 or 2 am. As god is my witness, I did not back into that 200 year old tree. That tree leaped out of no where and threw itself behind my truck in an attempt to commit treeicide.
Thank you all for your replies, it makes me feel somewhat better and less stupid. 
Here is another one from recent history (2007):
I ran into a parked car.
No. I wasn’t driving a vehicle. I was walking.
One must know that a few hours before this incident I was at a pub, drinking too many pints of ale, enjoying the live music and companionship. I wisely called a friend to come pick me up and take me home a few blocks away.
I get out of her car and start to walk towards my unit, drunkenly stumble, and SMACK!
Right into the rear end of a parked car. (With people still in it).
Broke my collar-bone and ended up in the Emergency Room of the local hospital trying to explain to the nurses and doctors what happened.
:smack:
This isn’t as amusing as many of the posts that came before but I mention it because I do it at least three or four times a year. I am not a morning person. During the time between slapping the alarm and merging into traffic I can barely articulate a grunt. The last thing I usually do before heading out the door is grab my sun glasses off the mantle but every now and again something happens to alter the routine. When that happens, just before grabbing the doorknob I look on the mantle for the sunglasses and feel a mild panic that they aren’t there and start tearing around the place looking for them.
Then it dawns on me that it might be easier to see where they are if I took them off. :smack:
One memorable example for me is when I was walking to work and, for absolutely no reason whatsoever, I walked straight into a street sign. At a rather brisk walking pace. Bam! Right in the face, with most of the impact in the area just above my nose, which contacted the sharp-ish edge of the sign. No idea how it happened.
Why is it memorable? Because while my face was messed up, I somehow didn’t damage my glasses! Not a scratch on them. Which was a huge relief, because they were fairly new, and expensive.
The conversations I had when I arrived at work were interesting. “What happened to your FACE?!” “Long story. But check out my glasses! Totally undamaged! THAT is how you smack your face into stuff successfully, motherf***er!”
Yes, the telephone pole was right there when I parked next to it. It was also still there when I backed out along it, leaving a gouge in my nice new car. 
Why does my brother have so many better stories than I? He was in college in a frat-house-type basement and slipped and fell in the inches of beer filling the floor. Had to go to the infirmary for his ankle. Between the beer and his … “relaxed” laundry and hygiene skills, I feel very bad for the nurse who had to deal with him. That sock – I can’t imagine.