Yeah, there’s nothing like boiling urine to make it, er, smell bad. :dubious:
Buns3000, trust me on this, as bad as a poorly cleaned men’s bathroom can smell burning urine is ten, no, a hundred times worse. The time that I found out about this, someone had boiled off 2 ml of urine beneath a heat lamp. I want you to think of that figure for a moment.
Then consider that the laboratory that it had been done in was so well ventilated that the total mass of air in the laboratory was exchanged three times a minute. And that the smell of burning urine got into the insulation in the laboratory so that we smelled the burnt urine for the next week, every time someone used that laboratory.
Two milliliters.
One week later it was still gag worthy.
Truuuuust me.
back in my first year at university i was on the subway at about 1am one night, and there was nobody else in the car. so to relieve some boredom i grabbed the middle bar, swung myself up, brought my legs over the bar and started hanging upside down by my knees.
at the next stop, a ttc employee boarded at the other end of that car. only after the train started moving again did he notice me, and he just stared for a moment before asking, “what the hell are you doing?!?”
without hesitation, and completely deadpan, i told him “i’m just hanging out for a while.”
he started laughing so hard, we were almost two stops up before he asked me to please get down.
Does phone sex count as ordinairy? If not, I’ve got nothing.
In NYC, the number 6 subway line crosses over the Bronx river on a high trestle between Elder Ave and Whitlock Ave on the other side.
Having finished up with a client visit, I went to the Elder Ave train station, paid my fair, and did the climb up to the track level, where I then proceeded to wait and watch 6 consecutive number 6 trains go by without stopping at Elder Ave. I watched them bend around the curve and stop up ahead at Whitlock. “Hey, dammit”, I yelled at them, “I paid my fare and there’s no situation under which any 6 train is supposed to be skipping Elder! Why the fuck didn’t the tollboth operator tell me if trains are bypassing the station?”
I stood there, contemplating the hassle of climbing back down, trudging down Westchester to Whitlock, paying another damn fare, and going up the Whitlock station. And as I stood there, yet another train flew past me and braked to a normal stock at Whitlock, and some aberrant circuit in my head tripped over and I stalked off after it, plopped down onto the catwalk, strode along in midair over the river and around the bend and eventually up the little stairs at the other end and onto the Whitlock Ave station platform.
And as I did so, it seemed like half the Bronx turned out to stare up at this nutcase, catcalling up to me and pointing and nudging others to take in the sight.
Yes, the next 6 train did indeed stop at Whitlock, and no, it did not also stop at Elder from whence I had departed, and so with still-annoyed satisfaction I hopped on board and grabbed a seat and enjoyed my ride for 6-7 stops or thereabouts, where the doors opened to a set of three policemen and about six EMTs who pointed to me and said “You! Out here! Now!” and tied me to a stretcher and hauled my ass off to psychiatric emergency, where I had to fast-talk my way out of a commitment procedure and then slip off (by then around 3 in the goddam morning) and go home, considerably chastened.
fare :smack: paid my fare. It would have been fair if the train had stopped for me.
[Dave Barry]
About this time, a neighbor happened to walk by, and if you think it’s easy to explain why you’re squatting in your driveway next to a pair of burning underpants, surrounded by bottles of hairspray and holding a Barbie doll, you are mistaken.
[/Dave Barry]
I think the day I was caught standing in front of the barn where I board my horse, ripping off my clothes, and pouring water on myself from garden hose counts. I had a good reason darn it!
I was getting ready to start riding and put my helmet on when I felt a stray piece of hair on my cheek. I brushed it off and realized it was a baby spider. No biggie, I wasn’t particularly wierded out by spiders or anything. Then I noticed another slight tickle on my ear. It was another baby spider. At this point, I got suspicious. I took of my helmet to see hundreds–I mean HUNDREDS–of tiny spiders running around inside it. All I could think was that a spider had laid an egg sack in my helmet (I hadn’t used that particular one in months) and it had just hatched.
At that point I started feeling tickles everywhere. I looked and there were spiders on my jacket, hands and arms, and I could feel them in my hair. They were all over me and there were so many of them! As I said, spiders didn’t really wierd me out–but this was beyond my tolerance. I was freaked!
I ran over to the garden hose and started pouring water over my hair. However, I could still feel all sorts of tickles all over. I was reallly getting the creeps to the point I was panicky and not thinking at all. I ripped off my jacket and continued pouring water on myself. That wasn’t good enough. I could still feel them under my shirt. I must say, I was really freaking at this point and could only think one thing: must get spiders OFF! I ripped off my shirt and stood under the hose.
Then I heard someone call out “MaddyStrut, are you alright?” That was when I saw the barn owner standing a few feet away staring at me like I’d lost my mind (which, truthfully, I had). All I could say was “spiders… spiders… spiiiiiiiiders!” Luckily, my barn owner is female and I had only stripped down to my bra and left my pants on. But I must have looked funny running out of the barn, brushing off invisible (from a distance things), pouring water over myself and ripping off my clothes!
I must admit, the distinction is lost on me. What I was trying to get across is that there are sexual acts that would seem out of the ordinary even if they involved only 2, or less I suppose, persons.
If I’ve been whoosed, just ignore me.
**MaddyStrut, ** :eek:
I’ve never been caught doing anything weird, exactly, just doing some things probably advisable to do in a private location.
Remember when Wally told us about the spider web incident?
Where he walked through one, yelled gahhh!, and threw up his arms, waving wildly to get it off. And as he walked on he noticed people staring at him and realized that they were too far away to have seen the spider web.
I still miss him.
Desperately tired, leaving work after a 16-hour shift, and I walked down to my car in the underground garage.
As I attempted to back out of the spot I was in, tucked in nice and tight to a cement post, I of course cranked the wheel and ran the passenger side door into the post, bending it all out of whack and putting a serious divot in the post along with lots of red paint.
As I got out to survey the damage, I said to myself out loud, ‘That was pretty stupid…’ and someone I didn’t even see (his car was two slots down from mine, leaving at the same time) said “Yeah, it was” smirked, got into his car and drove off.
I of course was totally speechless. Cause he was right, I said it first, I couldn’t evven get mad at him. I just sputtered. 
Heh, MaddyStrut’s spider story reminds me of a similar thing that happened to me in Thailand.
I was there many years ago, visiting the archaeological ruins of Ayuthaia (sp?), when I decided to have a seat on a mound in the shade after a hot day’s walking.
Too bad I sat on what turned out to be an anthill.
Well, those little bastards must have learned strategy or something, because rather than just biting me, they crawled up under my shorts before commencing to bite. All at once.
I had felt some movement “down there”, but thought it was just sweat. Then, suddenly, excruciating pain - bites on butt, bites in places the sun rarely shines, bites on goodies. OWWWW!
I jumped off that mound, and did a whirling dervish imitation for a bit - them commenced beating myself vigourously in the ass and crotch, while letting out war-whoops of pain.
Still dancing in place, I then tore off shorts and undies, and began feeling and picking the little bastards off ass & crotch.
At that point, naked from the waist down, I noticed the bus-load of Japanese tourists, staring bemusedly at my performance.
Once I was watching an old Tex Avery cartoon on TV in my room. I forget exactly how it came about in the cartoon, but there was a cat and a dog, and one of them was being chased (the cat, I think), and they had gotten scalped, so the tops of their heads, including their ears, were disconnected. So they were standing side by side, grabbing the other’s scalp, and switching with their own so the other guy got the cat ears, and pointing at the other one, trying to convince whoever was chasing them that the other guy was the cat. This went on for awhile, and every time they switched scalps, this “doodle-oodle-oo” music played. Anyway, it was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and I was so tickled with it that as I walked out of my room, I was still chuckling to myself and singing the little “doodle-oodle-oo” music. Of course, as I walked into the hallway, my housemate just happened to be walking by, only to hear me chuckling and going “doodle-oodle-oo” to nobody in particular.
When I was in high school, I was put in charge of designing a poster for our production of The Crucible.
My plan was to use a picture of some screaming puritan girls that I had, and surround the whole thing with a noose. Government class was next and it got a bit dull for me at time and I was always drawing or taking notes or doing something. I really didn’t think anything of drawing my nice, bold, startling black and white full-page-sized noose.
Until my teacher says in the front of the class “Sven? Is that the sort of thing you always what you do?”
I do this on a regular basis, and no, I don’t have a urine fetish. The result is a yellowish/amber powder, which would be salts and protein.
Vlad/Igor
Hopefully not too much protein. That would be a bad thing.
Obilgatory Simpsons reference:
“I didn’t know you, Jay Leno, and a monkey were washing a clown.”
One time I was hiking a section of the Appalachian Trail in Shenandoah National Park. I had been hiking for about two hours when the trail skirts around Big Meadows campground. I had only had a granola bar and some water and I was hungry as a bear. I rounded a corner and was fairly close to a campsite, where the occupants were frying up a bunch of bacon on the griddle. The sight and smell hit me at the same time, and stopped, stared and let out an audible whimper. The people cooking the bacon heard me and whipped around and stared at me incredulously.
I know, kinda tame, but you had to have been there…
Weird or embaressing I do not know.
I was caught zipping up my zipper on my pants as I was leaving the embalming room at a local funeral home.
My zipper was broken and had a habit of unzipping due to my walking around. It just happened I stoped to fix it at the wrong time.
Second most embaressing thing ever to happen to me in my life. Lucky for all, I am still young enough to have a few more.
Osip