Say what?
Well, I backed the car out of the garage and sheered off the side view mirror.
Twice. :smack: :smack:
itAmatuers?
just asking…
tsfr
I once made and ate some amazingly spicy salsa before a night of intimacy with my girlfriend.
Well, not really intimacy per se. More like apologizing profusely through the bathroom door while she soaked her now-flaming hoo-hoo* in milk. I tell ya, I’m a real mood setter when it comes to the ladies.
She called me Hot-lips for quite awhile after that, and I’m not allowed to make salsa anymore.
*Yes, hoo-hoo is the official medical term. Look it up.
In my infantant wisdom I decided one Saturday afternoon to remove the broken CD drive from our computer and replace it with one from an old outdated tower I won at work three weeks earlier.
The computer never turned on again.
Was it because I decided to open the tower on the carpeted living room floor? or because I decided it was seriously dust filled and cleaned it with the dust buster?
The world may never know.
I currectly post from an old computer my mother lent me that has 3GB of space and Windows ME. 
sigh
When I was about twelve I saw a thing in National Geographic about a Russian dude who carves tiny little scenes in the end of matchsticks. At that age, not limited by reality or lack of sculpting ability, I set out to make my own, armed with a magnifying glass, and my dad’s scalpel. It was a real, surgical scalpel, with a fresh blade. I took my first matchstick, with the aim of carving a teeny tiny little desert island into it, and made my first cut, by pushing down hard on the blade. Which was upside down. I sliced my fingertip in two, down to the bone.
Undeterred by this, my dad and I were in Crete on vacation a couple of years later and we found an odd round green object. “That’s a walnut,” said my dad. “How could it be?” I replied. “Walnuts are brown and gnarly.” “Cut it open and see what’s inside,” said my dad, always happy to educate his son, and handed me his penknife. I put the blade against the green, leathery skin, and slashed down. The blade made no impression on the walnut skin, but did cut the next fingertip to the bone. He certainly educated me there.
All of this happened a long time ago. This September, however, using my new super-sharp Japanese chef’s knife I got for my birthday, I got carried away chopping an onion, pretending to be Gordon Ramsay and doing the lever-chopping method all the TV chefs do, I was making short work of the onion and the last thought I had was “proper chefs hold their left hand so as to protect their fingers”, before cutting my thumbtip off, down to the bone.
I have a little scar and a patch of numbness now, on each of the first three digits of my left hand.
Me + sharp knives = fail.
As a young married chappie I once vacuumed up a bottle of spilled milk and blithly put the vac back in the closet.
2 days later we bought a new vacuum cleaner
I’m embarrassed to even admit this.
One day I got a call from a very nice telemarketer selling magazine subscriptions, and I thought, ‘‘Magazines? Hmm. I like magazines. Sign me up!’’
I signed their contract without really paying attention to what I was agreeing to.
By the time I finish making my installment payments, I will have paid $798 dollars.
For magazines.
and
These two posts had me chuckling for a good five minutes staight. Thank You!
May I ask exactly how many you received? Six issues of Time would be sad, but a year subscription to 80 different magazines would be much more humorous.
Man, I had a hard time with this one.
Not because I do so few stupid little things but because I do so many.
Not including the countless reckless and doofy crap I pulled as a kid, here’s the most stupid thing I think I’ve done as an adult that I’m willing to post on a public message board:
I once gave a pint of blood for some upcoming surgery and went immediately after to the gym and worked out for two hours. I’m amazed that all I got was lightheaded.
In my teens, on a particularly mentally-fogged weekend, I made myself some spaghetti for lunch, having slept the morning away.
I boiled about 2 quarts of water, tossed in a little oil and salt at full rolling boil…
…and then for reasons unknown, went to the refrigerator, got an egg, cracked it against the side of a pot I had never in my life cracked an egg against before, and dumped in the contents.
I only realized my error upon the egg’s submergence in the water, when I finally realized I had never seen anything quite like the motions of that egg before.
I tried to work stealthily with the pasta server to remove the alien matter, before my nearby older sister could notice what happened and pepper me with ridicule. No such luck.
Wait, What?
You cracked a raw egg in the boiling pasta water? For no reason at all and never seen it done before?
The weird dreams man, the weird dreams.
It’s kind of in between egg chow mein, carbonara and udon soup. Bet it was quite nice!
I can only claim less than full wakefulness in my defense.
The leftover bits of boiled egg white were not entirely disagreeable, but I have not seen fit to improve on the recipe.
I don’t know if it is a “little thing” but I once tried to remove a window air conditioner by myself.
19 stitches in my right arm and 50 in my left. It was…interesting. I could see the muscles and tendons and everything.
I once tried to open a bag of seaweed with a ginzu knife by piercing it instead of slicing it. The bag slipped and I sliced my left ring finger above the second knuckle. Only needed three stitches, and I was back to the party in a little over an hour, but yeah… stupid.
When I was about 8 I was a pyro, and I was trying to light a stick on fire by first spraying it with mosquito repellent. Unfortunately, I was holding the stick right in front of my face and spraying the repellent towards the stick so I got two eyes full of mosquito spray.
I also used to take my brother’s BB gun when I was 12 and shoot at various targets. Inside the garage, with the door closed. Despite hundreds of BBs imbedded in the walls, I never once got hit.
I once put some big plastic bowls in the oven to hide my dirty dishes for company, and forgot about them. Now I check the inside of the oven before I preheat.
I once used a knife to chip away ice inside a freezer. Don’t do that. Trust me on this.
I once let a 17-year-old mentally unstable runaway stay with me because I felt sorry for her. In the state I was currently living in, they won’t prosecute a minor for assault on an adult- I learned that the hard way.