Most Exciting Life Stories

[Nailed to the Perch]

My exciting life stories are....different than most people's.

In my more...exuberant youth I've been described as the lovechild of Forest Gump and Hunter S. Thompson.

This is, perhaps, not entirely an unfair analogy.

We've got a badass over here.

He's actually pretty normal. He's just had a certifiably bizarre life thus far.

It's not a competition, dude. And while my example included a couple of his more "whoa, that's kinda awesome" stories, he's also told me some that aren't things most people would envy. There are times when I'm jealous of the experiences he's had, but then I remember, say, why he never wants to go to China again and think, "...okay, growing up in the Midwest and mostly having stories about funny goats and such isn't so bad."

[Neo Art]

We've got a badass over here.

He's actually pretty normal. He's just had a certifiably bizarre life thus far.

It's not a competition, dude. And while my example included a couple of his more "whoa, that's kinda awesome" stories, he's also told me some that aren't things most people would envy. There are times when I'm jealous of the experiences he's had, but then I remember, say, why he never wants to go to China again and think, "...okay, growing up in the Midwest and mostly having stories about funny goats and such isn't so bad."

Tibet.

It was Tibet.

[Disserbia]

I'm female

Really? Then why are you trying to convince everyone you have such an enormous penis?

That's what you were doing, don't get sore because I called you out.

[Nailed to the Perch]

No. Many of us have had odd lives, but most of our lives have involved slightly fewer stories that begin in ways like, "well, there was that one time when as an 8-year-old Jewish kid I helped transport artifacts out of the country for the Dalai Lama...was that before or after I met Mick Jagger?"

NA's life is...special.

Everyone's life is special.

Of course it is. I'm not sure why it wouldn't be. All I've said is that for most of us, "special" doesn't tend to involve quite so many crazy-ass stories involving international espionage, rock stars, and heads of state. NA isn't "better" or "more special" than you. He just has some crazy-ass stories.

[Neo Art]

Really? Then why are you trying to convince everyone you have such an enormous penis?

That's what you were doing, don't get sore because I called you out.

Oh, I'm honest, "only moderately above average" is really a fair descriptor.

[Neo Art]

Everyone's life is special.

Of course it is. I'm not sure why it wouldn't be. All I've said is that for most of us, "special" doesn't tend to involve quite so many crazy-ass stories involving international espionage, rock stars, and heads of state. NA isn't "better" or "more special" than you. He just has some crazy-ass stories.

admittedly, the answer to the question of "how many spies have you had sex with" is rarely "2".

[Disserbia]

We've got a badass over here.

He's actually pretty normal. He's just had a certifiably bizarre life thus far.

It's not a competition, dude. And while my example included a couple of his more "whoa, that's kinda awesome" stories, he's also told me some that aren't things most people would envy. There are times when I'm jealous of the experiences he's had, but then I remember, say, why he never wants to go to China again and think, "...okay, growing up in the Midwest and mostly having stories about funny goats and such isn't so bad."

I'm not the one who said so and so has us all beat. Anyway as I already said, this thread could get people in legitimate legal trouble and is not a good idea. You might put that in your op, out of consideration.

[Cannot think of a name]

My grandfather was kind of full of awesome, though when I knew him he was the scary guy who had a stroke and sat on the couch.

But before my dad was born my grandfather was a professional race car driver in a time where that didn't mean what it means today (sponsorship and big teams etc) but rather more vagabond and weird grease monkey style. He set a landspeed record (of some sort, not the land speed record as far as I know, but there's a picture of him on what looks like a Marmon stripped down to an engine, wheels and a hood and "111 mph" on the back), he did Pike's Peak and board track racing on motorcycles and midgets. Basically anything he could go fast in.

I eventually raced using his number, but never even came close to his lofty heights.

[Disserbia]

That's what you were doing, don't get sore because I called you out.

Oh, I'm honest, "only moderately above average" is really a fair descriptor.

Oh I'm sure, and spies don't tell, good try though.

[Ostroeuropa]

Exciting? Maybe not.

My friends house burned down, so they got a new house seperate from their family. (because insurance companies apparently would rather fork over money for two medium houses than one large sized house if it's cheaper and be all "So what? We totally provided shelter for you guys!!!" at the time, we were about 14/15.)
But anyway, the result is a 15 year old with a house of their own to run for about a year.
It went precisely as well as you'd expect.
Five of us moved in, the girl whos house burned down, me because I live down the road so it isn't so much "Moving in" as "Going to the living room for an hour or two", one because "My girlfriend owns a house i'm totally moving in." one because her parents were abusive shitstains, and the last because, well fuck, we were all doing it so why not.

Day one comprised largely of unpacking and smoking weed. There was not much unpacking done.
Day two consisted of realizing we didn't have any utilities at all, then quietly wondering for a while how none of us had noticed the previous day. We stared at unpacked boxes and smoked weed.
This sort of shit largely continued for a week while we survived on take aways and stared at boxes, then decided to get down to business.
What then happened is something I can only describe as indoor nomadism. We would settle on a new room every now and then and say "This room is great. Lets use this room." and that would be the room we sat in, played world of warcraft, and smoked weed. Eventually, about a week later, the room would become a complete mess with wrappers and pot noodles everywhere and we would decide it was time to find a new room.
This process didn't serve us well in the long term, so we decided after running out of rooms (We dismissed the idea of the kitchen and the toilet as viable candidates) we had to clean the rooms. Deciding it was too big a job, we decided on cleaning one room, using it until it became terrible, then moving to a new room for a change of scenery and cleaning that one while using it.
None of us thought this was weird at the time.
Around 6 months in disaster struck when our drug dealer was arrested.
For gun possession. (20 years being a dealer, no problems. Buys a gun, arrested 2 months later.)
We found a new dealer within an hour of the news but this guys prices were out of whack so we had to find cash.
It was decided that we didn't really need heating since it was summer and we'd be gone by winter.
The Great Cleaning occured when we vastly underestimated the amount of time we needed to clean the whole house to get our deposit back and had to work all through the night and into the next day, and then still didn't get it all done. We couldn't even begin to face The Garden, which had become the rubbish tip.
After it was over most of us got jobs and moved out for real and became normal people. I still see people around my town and they know.
And I know.
Because they had been visitors.
Respectable people like young police officers, or the bank teller. It's weird.
We both... know.
I suspect I know every single drug user in the town as a result of that year. Nothing was accomplished except mass socialization and a few epic drops.

[Temujinn]

There seems to be a measure of good spiritedness that is being decidedly drained from this thread.
I think NA being older likely has many stories that impress people who havnt lived as long(younger people), especially those who grew up living behind a monitor.
I think DIsserbia is merely pointing out that Nailed to the Perch was selling the "greatness" of NA pretty hard.

To be fair, NA wasnt the one blowing his horn.

Can we play nice in the nice thread, or does this have to get NSGified too?

[Spreewerke]

I remember back right after I'd graduated high school a pretty interesting thing happened to me.

To get the context of it, I'm going to have to give a little background, though.

So, around my Junior or Senior year in high school, one of my friends had mentioned a "sex hotel" in a nearby town. The story of it went that, while it did in fact used to be a functioning hotel (my father lived in it in the '70s, actually), it had been abandoned for a few decades. However, just a few years prior to me being told this, it had been re-inhabited by a Native American down from the Southwest part of the country. Now, what this guy did was anyone's guess, but it was later found out he'd steal a lot of things and resell them, piece out computers, things like that. It was later found out this guy ran a sex cult out of this building, though. Basically, what went down was some hardcore BDSM: like, "get tied to a table and get [tickled] right in the [armpit]." A lot. Guy would also take his ladies out on the town leashed up: whatever, his deal, I guess, nothing bothering me.

Anyway, this friend of mine came up to me and said, "Man, dude, yo, you's gotts'ta check out this cra'y-ass hotel an' shi', man." I asked him to continue. He went on to tell me how he went in there and the first thing he saw was "the backdo' was all kicked in an' had some spray paintin's on it wit' them words of 'blow me' paintin' across all o'er d'ere." It kind of interested me, because that's kind of weird. Anyway, he went on to tell about all these weird racks and people-cages he saw in this place: very weird stuff. I asked him if it was still abandoned, and he said he hadn't seen anyone go in there in quite a while.

Well, nothing really ever came of it, so it was all but forgotten until just after high school. That's when we met again and started talking about that conversation. He said he'd be more than glad to take me and some friends out there so we could check it out, so I said, "Alright." We planned on making the trip the upcoming weekend.

That weekend, we made sure everyone parked in different places across town. It was pretty snowy out: no one was doing anything outdoors, and it was a pitch-black night. The place was off the main street just a bit, so there weren't any pole lights to help us out: just my little fifteen-lumen MagLite feeding off of some AA batteries.

Anyway, we "persuade" the door to open, and we're greeted by a bunch of weird stuff right-off. In my tunnel of lighted vision, I could see a rack, a lay-down cage, a sewing machine, and a bunch of sexeh-times brochures. The place was a dump. Anyway, we continued on our little journey. We had gotten to the second or third room, when someone said, "stop." They said they had heard some footsteps right behind them. I shined my moonbeam over their shoulder, but all I saw was the wall a couple meters behind them. They wanted to check out the room we were just in, though, thinking whoever it was might have went in there. We scooted in there, me taking point since I was the only one armed (knife, flashlight, shoebomb, etc.,). Fortunately (for me, especially), there wasn't anyone there. One of the guys said, "Dude, the sewing machine has been moved. Look." I took a glance, and the legs had in fact been scooted across the floor slightly: the dust was streaked there. Apparently someone had bumped it, and it looked like they had gone into the basement. We decided to circle back around and go upstairs rather than wait and see who wanted to "greet" us.

After we got upstairs, I aimed my magical handcannon of lightbeams down the hallway. All I saw was doors on the left and right, and a pile of something immediately in front of us. I checked the room to the left first, and all that was in it was a mattress, a broken wall connecting to the next room, and what looked like some finger marks dragged through some of the dust on the wall. That kind of unsettled me, but I figured maybe my friend had gone through here before we all arrived, trying his best to get us spooked. We went on through to the next room by going through the wall, and all that was in there was a broken toilet, some torn up clothes, and knives. We quickly went on out to the hallway once more, and started in on the room to the right. The walls were covered with plastic, and it was pitch-black in the room. My flashlight bumped against something and turned off. In the silence, my friend said, "I've always wanted to do this," and struck his lighter. The only problem with this was that it was bright enough to see an extra face in the crowd just before his flame flickered out. I'm pretty sure all of us immediately had our pants weighed down by feces. I quickly went to fix my light while he tried to relight his lighter, and by the time we were illuminating the room again, it was only us friends standing there. Rather than go back, we decided to press onward.

Doing so we entered another room. It had some more racks, and in the connected room, a stirruped examination chair, a Christmas tree, a ton of mattresses, a cat (living), and all sorts of other weird stuff. We were a bit unsettled by the drill bits in the examination chair's shelves, so we went ahead and retraced our steps back downstairs. Some of us were wanting to leave, two of us did. The rest of us finally decided to venture on into the basement. As we approached the steps, we heard something bang around at the bottom of them. I shined my light down quickly, but all I saw was a fleeting shadow. I took my knife in my dominant hand, light in my non-dom., and we continued down.

We got to the bottom of the stairs, and all I could see was a bed frame and a ton of five-gallon buckets filled with chemicals. I broke left with my light, and froze immediately. What I saw were cages built to house human beings. They had small cut-outs for food and water to be given to them, but that was it. No chair, no toilet, nothing. After being struck in awe by these, we heard footsteps going up the stairs. The guy closest to me began giving the guy behind him some crap for splitting on us, but that's when said guy replied, "I'm still here." None of us made those footsteps. We quickly moved further into the basement and came upon a chair. This chair was directly beside a car battery and jumper cables. Also in the room? A burn ring with hundreds of forks and bottles of cough medicine. I sat my flashlight down, beaming the ceiling, as I looked over these items. I had returned my knife to my belt loop so I could better get a handle on these items. I said, "Hey guys, check this out." I received no response. I shined my flashlight to my left: my friend that had been there was gone. I panicked a bit, but figured maybe he had walked around me to my right. I checked my right: nothing. I suddenly had that hair-raising-on-your-neck feeling. In my scared state, I again managed to bump my flashlight, turning it off momentarily. I immediately went silent out of surprise, and heard slow, steady breathing right behind me. I rushed to get my flashlight back on, and managed to do so within a second or two. I slowly turned around, following the light's beam with my eyes the entire time. When I had turned all the way around, I found myself looking square in their ugly, wretched face. He leaned in close to me, close enough I could smell his breath. Finally, I broke the silence and just yelled at him, "What do you want from me?! He spoke and said, "Well, I'mma need about tree-fiddy."

Well, it was about that time I noticed that this Indian Sex Guy was about eight stories tall and was a crustacean from the Paleozoic Era. It was that gawddamn Loch Ness monster! I said, "Damn it, Monster, stop followin' me around! I ain't givin' you no tree-fiddy!"

[Nailed to the Perch]

Really? Then why are you trying to convince everyone you have such an enormous penis?

That's what you were doing, don't get sore because I called you out.

Dude, all he said was "Oh geez, how much time you got?" Because he has a lot of crazy stories! And this is a thread about crazy stories! I replied, as someone who's heard a lot of his crazy stories, that he likely has us all beat in the "having of crazy stories" department. That's when you jumped in to start complaining about how people were saying your life wasn't special or something. I think you are taking this bizarrely personally when the only point either NA or I has made is "NA's life has involved a remarkably large number of crazy stories."

[Farnhamia]

My grandfather was kind of full of awesome, though when I knew him he was the scary guy who had a stroke and sat on the couch.

But before my dad was born he was a professional race car driver in a time where that didn't mean what it means today (sponsorship and big teams etc) but rather more vagabond and weird grease monkey style. He set a landspeed record (of some sort, not the land speed record as far as I know, but there's a picture of him on what looks like a Marmon stripped down to an engine, wheels and a hood and "111 mph" on the back), he did Pike's Peak and board track racing on motorcycles and midgets. Basically anything he could go fast in.

I eventually raced using his number, but never even came close to his lofty heights.

You should edit that to make it clear that your grand-dad was a racer before your dad was born, not your dad before he himself was born. That would be a hell of a story, though.

[Neo Art]

Oh, I'm honest, "only moderately above average" is really a fair descriptor.

Oh I'm sure, and spies don't tell, good try though.

You watch too much James Bond.

Hell, what would YOU call the "special assistant to the cultural attaché"?

[Temujinn]

Of course it is. I'm not sure why it wouldn't be. All I've said is that for most of us, "special" doesn't tend to involve quite so many crazy-ass stories involving international espionage, rock stars, and heads of state. NA isn't "better" or "more special" than you. He just has some crazy-ass stories.

admittedly, the answer to the question of "how many spies have you had sex with" is rarely "2".

Do Military Intelligence and NSA agents count?

[Neo Art]

There seems to be a measure of good spiritedness that is being decidedly drained from this thread.
I think NA being older likely has many stories that impress people who havnt lived as long(younger people), especially those who grew up living behind a monitor.
I think DIsserbia is merely pointing out that Nailed to the Perch was selling the "greatness" of NA pretty hard.

To be fair, NA wasnt the one blowing his horn.

Can we play nice in the nice thread, or does this have to get NSGified too?

Well, she is pretty good at blowing my horn.

Which is, again, only MODERATELY above average. I'm nothing if not humble.

[Disserbia]

Everyone's life is special.

Of course it is. I'm not sure why it wouldn't be. All I've said is that for most of us, "special" doesn't tend to involve quite so many crazy-ass stories involving international espionage, rock stars, and heads of state. NA isn't "better" or "more special" than you. He just has some crazy-ass stories.

Don't we all.

[Neo Art]

admittedly, the answer to the question of "how many spies have you had sex with" is rarely "2".

Do Military Intelligence and NSA agents count?

Oh absolutely, it's where the 2nd one comes in.

[Neo Art]

Of course it is. I'm not sure why it wouldn't be. All I've said is that for most of us, "special" doesn't tend to involve quite so many crazy-ass stories involving international espionage, rock stars, and heads of state. NA isn't "better" or "more special" than you. He just has some crazy-ass stories.

Don't we all.

No. Not really.

[Nailed to the Perch]

There seems to be a measure of good spiritedness that is being decidedly drained from this thread.
I think NA being older likely has many stories that impress people who havnt lived as long(younger people), especially those who grew up living behind a monitor.
I think DIsserbia is merely pointing out that Nailed to the Perch was selling the "greatness" of NA pretty hard.

To be fair, NA wasnt the one blowing his horn.

Can we play nice in the nice thread, or does this have to get NSGified too?

Again, while I'm rather fond of NA, the point was not "NA is great." It was simply "NA has had a weird life." That's not a moral judgment or a critique of anyone else. It's just a factual statement, and I cannot fathom why people are taking more offense to it than if this thread were "How tall are you" and I pointed out that someone who was 7 feet tall probably had us all beat, because that is unusually tall.

[Farnhamia]

Oh I'm sure, and spies don't tell, good try though.

You watch too much James Bond.

Hell, what would YOU call the "special assistant to the cultural attaché"?

I called her "Chérie" and "mon petit chou."

[Disserbia]

Oh I'm sure, and spies don't tell, good try though.

You watch too much James Bond.

Hell, what would YOU call the "special assistant to the cultural attaché"?

Is that what they told you? Lol

[Disserbia]

There seems to be a measure of good spiritedness that is being decidedly drained from this thread.
I think NA being older likely has many stories that impress people who havnt lived as long(younger people), especially those who grew up living behind a monitor.
I think DIsserbia is merely pointing out that Nailed to the Perch was selling the "greatness" of NA pretty hard.

To be fair, NA wasnt the one blowing his horn.

Can we play nice in the nice thread, or does this have to get NSGified too?

Again, while I'm rather fond of NA, the point was not "NA is great." It was simply "NA has had a weird life." That's not a moral judgment or a critique of anyone else. It's just a factual statement, and I cannot fathom why people are taking more offense to it than if this thread were "How tall are you" and I pointed out that someone who was 7 feet tall probably had us all beat, because that is unusually tall.

It was a dumb move.

[Nailed to the Perch]

Of course it is. I'm not sure why it wouldn't be. All I've said is that for most of us, "special" doesn't tend to involve quite so many crazy-ass stories involving international espionage, rock stars, and heads of state. NA isn't "better" or "more special" than you. He just has some crazy-ass stories.

Don't we all.

No? I have zero stories involving any of those things. Which is not some sort of failing on my part!