I was about 10 at the time, but my uncle couldn’t get his VCR working, so I said I’ll have a look. He didn’t tell me that he left it plugged in, but I had a metal butter knife and I was trying to take the screws out because I think he left the tape inside and it was jammed. Anyways, the knife slipped and went through the vents and it obviously hit something that was electrically hot because the next thing I knew, I was standing on the other side of the room and felt totally buzzed !! haha
Other than that, I’ve driven drunk when I was younger, REALLY fucking stupid thing to do. God, when you’re young, you just don’t care. How stupid.
One time I tried to put some old spaghetti noodles in the garbage disposal. The noodle pieces jammed together further down the drain pipe, completely blocking it. I had to call in one of those drain rooter guys to clear it.
Ah, this reminds me. As soon as I got to Mexico, my host parents were like, ‘‘Don’t eat out of these hole-in-the-wall restaurants, they’re very dangerous because they wash their produce in the water here.’’
About my second week there, my host father invited me and a friend out to… a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. I figured, ‘‘well, it can’t be dangerous if they actually invited me here.’’
I ate. It was disgusting.
By about 3am I was in so much pain I could only communicate in English. My host mother, who is a doctor, ended up having to run over to the drug store in the middle of the night and get a bunch of medical crap. When she came back I was laying on my back on the bathroom floor moaning. She pulled me over to the couch, whereon I received the most painful IV and ass injection I have ever had. I am not remotely afraid of needles, but let me tell you, you get one bleary-eyed doctor at 3 in the morning strapping an IV bag to a kitchen chair while trying to find your vein in the dim light of a basement living room… oh lordy. I was crying like a little girl.
It’s just as well. If I hadn’t been living with doctors, my ass would have been in the hospital.
Word to the wise: Do NOT eat at those hole-in-the-wall restaurants in Mexico. I foolishly thought, ‘‘Well, I have IBS all the time… the consequences can’t be much worse than that.’’ Wrong. So wrong.
I didn’t want to mention this one but as I started this thread to verify my theory that there should be more stupid things done than ‘little things that you do that you think are genious (sic)’ I will say that I once owned an envrionmental destructor big ole F150. I wanted a big American truck for ease of repair and needed to haul soil and bark and plants and whatnot. I have always felt that I can fix anything with no instruction. I’m often right but this is not that case with the truck.
It was drunning poorly (as usual) and I started poking around. I had never played with a distributor so I popped off the wires and looked at it and spun the rotor about and saw nothing to fiddle with so I popped it back on and replaced the wires adn went to see if I had made a difference.
Yup. The truck no longer started. It truned and turned and turned and turned until the battery got weak but it never started. AAA couldn’t figure it out so they took it to a garage. The mechanics had the darndest time as well and I didn’t volunteer any info to help them out.
Oh but I was embarrassed when my mom took the phone call and heard the chuckle and relayed to me that the garage knew that someone had been ‘playing home mechanic.’
It seems that the 8 cylinders have 8 plugs that have 8 wires that durn to 8 places on the D cap thathas a rotor that spins and fires all 8 in a specific order to run the engine and merely plugging them in in a random manner will not make the beast go.
dumb diddly dumdumdum.
Dear olivesmarch4th, it’s kinda funny after the fact, isn’t it? Montezuma has lots of revenge to catch up on.
I remember chucking my soiled knickers in the trach right before hopping in the car for the 4 hour return trip sitting next to my future mother in law. Screaming nightmare imagination scenarios in my head the entire ride as I clenched for all I was woth.
A few years ago, just before I quit smoking, I went outside for a puff. I pulled out my favorite Zippo and click. Click. Damn, out of fuel. Went in, filled 'er up, went back out and lit up. Happened to glance at my hand and, just like Richard Pryor’s bit, thought to myself ‘Wow, that looks like…FIRE!’ My entire left hand was engulfed in flame. A pretty blue colour at that.
Fortunately, nothing but singed hair and inflamed dignity. And a whole lotta stupid.
I roasted a weiner on a bigmetal fork at a campout party in HIGH school. When I bit into the hot weiner it turns out that the fork was hot as well. One stupid tine went right into my tender lip. I didn’t want to go home because I didn’t want to explain my stupidity. Luckily, age has rendered the little scar unremarkable.