In March, 2003, I held a contest to give away a bunch of promotional Kevin Smith stuff that I had gotten, including these wonderful hats:

The contest was of the story-telling type: that is, tell me a true story that happened to you or a loved one, regardless of its content or intent. Here are the results.

To be quite honest, I expected the stories to be all goofy and hastily prepared, so I almost panicked when people started turning in heart-felt stories that clearly took some time to write out. I worried -- and still do, really -- about having to judge these things, and thus putting myself in the position of placing particular value on a stranger's personal experience. And so, i want to preface my decisions with this little note, so you know that this wasn't an easy thing to do. (that's one of the reasons it took so long... well, that and it's been a really hectic past two weeks, with my parents coming to visit and a reporter leaving work, which dumped all sorts of meetings in my lap.)

Of course, there were also the plain ol' gross and funny stories, which surely have their merit as well.

I can't really explain my logic behind these decisions, except that i went with what struck me the most, for good or for bad. I had some extra hats and posters which i didn't include in the original prize packages, but i was really compelled to give out everything i've got... so, there is now one first place, three second place, and three third place winners. That's it. I'm cleared out. But, it's been worthwhile.

Thank you to everyone who entered. I appreciate you sharing these moments with me, and I expect that the readers of this page will enjoy them as well.

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First place, from Danny White:

I was working last week when I heard a familiar clinking sound, it was probably just a couple of jars of baby food hitting each other in a shopping cart, but for me it sent shockwaves of memory crashing in on me.

I've always found it interesting how an unexpected noise, scent or whatever can take you momentarily back in time, but usually it stirs up old unwanted memories rather than ones you want to remember. Like a faint whiff of perfume can take you back to that love that was lost to you, an unexpected hearing of the song that you two first made love to can take you right back to that moment of ecstasy, and in this case here, how a small clinking noise can make me think of my dad.

I just recently lost my father, and I really try not to think about it too much because it is depressing for me. But this sudden clinking noise, this is different. It took me back to when I was a little kid.

My dad had a bad leg and walked with a cane, but no ordinary cane was it, this thing was something to look at. Handcrafted in Tennessee by a guy who's no longer around, it's a long hardwood cane, with a silver dollar embedded in one end of the handle, and a half-dollar in the other end. That wasn't the best part though. Running down the middle were a row of old glass marbles, probably sixteen or more, all-different colors. When he walked, the marbles clicked together, making a very distinct sound that you couldn't mistake for any other. I could never get lost in the store with him, I just had to listen for the sound and I could find him from 5 aisles away easily. That was the noise I heard that day at work.

Wherever we would go, people would be fascinated with his walking stick. Nobody had ever seen anything like it, there are probably only a dozen or so in the world, so people would always ask him about it. He would let them inspect it; they'd rub the gleaming marbles with awe and finger the coins, wondering how they were held in place. In stores, at the fair, walking down the street, they always stopped us to ask about the origin of the cane, and he always obliged, telling the story of its making in such great detail that I sadly cannot remember. It never bugged him that he was constantly getting asked about it, and until I heard that noise at work, I didn't know why.

It hit me then, that walking stick gave him identity, people knew him from the rest of the crowd, and they'd remember him and call him by name next time they saw him. That little thing gave him his individuality, his own little mark of fame. I started to think that's a lot like people that listen to punk. We're really no different than anyone else, but we find little subtle and often not so subtle things that make us stand out and recognized.

Unconsciously, that's sort of why we dye our hair, wear pins and patches, even get tattoos. It's out way of being identified as individuals, sticking out from the rest of the crowd while noticing and relating to our own peers. Of course we'd never admit any of this, hell I'm sure most don't even realize the reasons, its just what we do because that's what we relate to, just like dad related to people by a trademark of sorts, like rap guys roll up the one pant leg, L L style, its recognizable and distinct.

Everyone wants to be an individual, but they also want to belong. Dad stuck out walking with this beautiful cane, but made friends along the way because of it catching their attention, is that so different that us starting discussions with people we don't know, but being able to relate simply because of love for common bands and music?

This is one of the few times since my dad died that I've thought of him and not mourned, but instead been grateful for experiencing all that with him, it showed me that I was more like him than I ever realized.

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Second place, from Ben:

I was moved, in accordance to my family, to the great state of Wyoming some several years back in the midst of an era of my life defined by my ability to wipe my own butt. Out of my middle-class-all-American family of five, I'd say I took to life in the equality state best; of course, I wasn't leaving behind a beautiful girlfriend like my brother and I wasn't being stranded in a veritable hell like my sister, where the nearest shopping mall was a state away. I was just living my life from wipe to wipe and Lander Wyoming was just as good a place as any, if not better, to develop the bathroom hygiene and the day-to-day skills often correlated with someone of that age. It must be said that my life has only improved in the region of bodily care since then, and as such, I'm proud to call myself a Wyomingite. However, If you happen to be some young, soon-to-be expecting parents and your on the lookout for an environment best suited for raising your children in, then it is vital that you understand Wyoming and all it's shortcomings.

My childhood in Wyoming practically shaped who I am today. In the humblest way possible, I submit that fact alone as a defense for the single most cow-town state in America. However, I, as well as my environmentally influenced nature, am not perfect. For a large portion of my life I had an intensive fear of large crowds or densely populated areas. And for a large portion of that portion, I was completely ignorant of my phobia.

FACT: In Wyoming, there are more cows than people. A lot more.

So it seemed like a rather adventurous and exciting idea to attend my first year of high school living with my aunt and uncle in Monterey California. They invited me int their home with love in their hearts for the dearest nephew/godchild. But they were also wary that it might be a bit of a culture shock for me. So my ever-considerate uncle came up with the idea of a trip around the San Francisco bay area after my flight in. "What better a way to accustom him to life in a town of 30,000," he must have told my aunt, "than spending a few days in a city of 730,000."

That first day in, we went to Berkeley to visit my cousin who was attending college there. I wouldn't get out of the car. My new family was more than accommodating in regards to my sudden paralysis in the back seat. They locked the doors and let me be for the first few hours, but their accommodations did not extend so far as to keep them from having a good laugh at this country-boy so visibly frightened in front of them. After successfully teasing me into submission, I scrounged up the intestinal fortitude required of me in the situation, and got out of the car. The day was a torrent of images and sounds that did nothing more at the time than confuse my brain on multiple levels. It was fun, sometimes beautiful, always interesting, and yet incessantly alien to me. Looking back now I recognize the experience as a wonderful one, but at the time, I was still too much in the process of learning to cope with such types of population density to transcend to a level beyond much more than fear. What I really needed in order to beat that irrational fear of mine was just around the bay. A true city. The city of San Francisco.

It was a day I'll never forget. I can't say that I was surprised to see two men holding hands, nor did it bother me; but it did seem very important to me. In fact, I'd say it was more important to me than it seemed. Being exposed to such an accepting environment at that age did a lot for my character that there certainly would have been a lack of in Wyoming. But the most exaggerated difference in lifestyles that I found in San Francisco was not the stereotypical gay population, but the homeless one. Bums were literally everywhere and they gave me the faint feeling that I was in a zoo, and they were the captives, caged for my speculation. I remember feeling so guilty that I could ever feel that way about another human being. A lot of them were begging for money, but I felt as though interacting with them in any way would only perpetuate my unfortunate impression. So I just walked coolly by them, trying to seem completely interested in the ground beneath my feet.

By the second day in The City, I had grown drastically more confident in my nature and I began to truly appreciate the wonders around me. However, I was still flooded with uncomfortableness whenever I had to walk past a homeless person seeking shelter along the sidewalk. Then, half way into the day, a wonderful thing happened, and I was in the right place at the right time to witness it. A man of incalculable age was sitting perfectly still slumped up against a building with his meager possessions. The people on the streets were passing him by and paying him less attention than the pigeons patrolling his stained bags and jackets. He was so motionless he might have been dead. But then, all of a sudden, it became apparent to everyone within sight that he was far from dead as he jumped up, faster than anyone I have ever seen, and punched the nearest pigeon out of the air as it was in mid-take off. The pigeon slammed to the ground, lurched viciously, and then managed to fly away; or really, stumble drunkenly through the air.

I was speechless. I can only thank God that my uncle was there to witness the event too, or else I'm not sure I would have believed me. Most of the other people around during the incident, one could visibly tell, shared in my astonishment. This anonymous man had just successfully taken down one of the most elusive creatures known to man: the common city pigeon. I mean, he didn't have a gun or a rock or a brick. No way! He took that bird down OLD SCHOOL!

I don't think I stopped laughing that entire day. And the next homeless person I passed, I fished out a dollar from my pocket and put it into their surprisingly full Styrofoam cup. "God bless you," he said.

'Sure,' I thought. 'And God bless San Francisco too.'

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Second place II, from Paul Brown:

For the past two months a girl, who I have had a one-night stand with, had been trying to sleep with me again. However, I had been dodging her advancing for some time because I did not want to perpetuate this relationship in that way. I no longer wanted to because the night that we had slept together, I was very intoxicated and she fully took advantage of this situation. I know this because she was completely sober, and to be frank, she just wasn't very much fun to sleep with. The next morning when I woke up, very hung over, I made myself a promise never to do anything of a sexual nature under the influence of a controlled substance again. So far, I have kept this promise to myself

Flash forward to finals week

I was messing around on the computer when I got a phone call.

ME: Hello

GIRL: HI!!!

ME: (SHIT!!) Oh hi.

GIRL: What are you doing?

ME: Um.... Nothing. (FUCK wrong answer you dip shit)

GIRL: Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go catch a movie or rent a movie, or just hang out.

ME: Oh...Well...I would love to but I...I have no money. (Yeah that's it)

GIRL: Don't worry about it. My treat.

ME: Well...then I really have no excuse not to then, do I? (Yes, I actually said that)

GIRL: Nope. So, I'll see you in a half-hour then?

ME: Yeah I guess....

GIRL: Great. Bye.

CLICK

The whole conversation took less then a minute. I had been avoiding her advances for the last month and a half, and I thought I was in the clear. I thought she had gotten the picture, but this girl was horny, or obsessed or just plain lonely, and apparently, she thought I was the man to fix all of this.

She arrives about forty-five minutes later. I didn't even bother to brush my teeth. I was not going to put any effort into this. We go to Blockbuster to rent a movie because I just didn't care. As we're walking down the shelves, my eye catches something I thought that would never be there.

An Evening with Kevin Smith, two discs DVD set.

For those of you who may are may not know. I have a certain place in my heart for the one they call Silent Bob. This is the ultimate fans dream come true. Three hours of my idol talking about anything and everything. My whole attitude has changed. I have now become the typical FAN-BOY.

FAN-BOY: Can we get this? It's the coolest thing ever made, and he talks, and its real cool…and…and...

You get the point.

GIRL: Sure we can get that. (Subtext: Whatever gets you in my bed.)

We venture back to her place. The entire car ride over I have a grin from ear to ear. Once inside her place, she offers me an alcoholic beverage. I respectively decline. She then informs me that the DVD player may not work. My response.

Trust me, I'll make the bloody thing work.

And that I did. So we watch, and let me tell you it has been a month since I saw it, and I still get excited just thinking about it. It was the coolest thing I had ever seen.

Pathetic. Yes. Do I care? No.

By the time, it is over with the clock read 2:30 am. I look over and she's half-asleep. I thought it had worked. I thought that I had wasted enough time that she was too tired to have sex. I had won. YES!!!!!!

Think again, sucker.

She took my hand and led me into her bedroom. I then proceed to have an argument with my penis. Yes, I talk to my penis.

PENIS: we're going to get laid.

BRAIN: No, we're not.

PENIS: Oh come on, it's been at least a month since we've seen a pussy. You owe it to me.

BRAIN: Fuck you. It's not happening.

PENIS: We'll see. Remember I'm more powerful then you.

BRAIN: DAMN YOU!!!!!!

By this point, she has already removed my shirt, and starting to kiss my chest. My penis won.

Apparently, the penis is mightier.

So then, we proceed to kiss. Remember when you first learned how to kiss and you were kinda unsure on how to go about it. You lips were real stiff and your tongue was unsure of what to do. Well that's what this felt like. At this point even my penis is going give me a fucking break.

Now I'm not going to go into details because I'm just not that type of guy. Let's just say that she was enjoying herself, when I happened to look down at my hand. It was covered in blood. Not just a speck or two. My entire hand was drenched in blood.

ME: Um...I think something is wrong.

GIRL: Holy shit. I was afraid something like this would happen.

She then runs to the bathroom. I'm sitting there with a hand covered in blood.

Now a couple things are running through my head at this point. The main one is. YOU THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN? Then I start to laugh at the whole situation. Honestly, this was a perfect way to end the evening. I went and washed my hand off, crawled into bed and fell asleep watching "Friends"

To this day, I know that I will never be able to watch An Evening with Kevin Smith and not recall this event.

Needless to say, the girl is still horny, obsessed, or lonely. To the point were she called me from London just to say that I was missed. I appreciate the thought I just wish it wasn't coming from her.

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Second place III, from Jared:

My eyes are closed, but I can still see the room around me. White walls, blue doors; a green chair in the corner playing bed to my sleeping mom. And me in the middle of the room, lying atop one incredibly uncomfortable bed, surrounded by machines that beep, machines that blink and flash, all telling me that Yes, I am still alive. Too bad that the blinking, beeping machines, the uncomfortable bed, the fact that I can still see the room in my eyelids and therefore feel my eyes are still open and therefore cannot be asleep has been going on for hours. Oh God am I tired. Maybe if I roll over-no, the IV is in my left arm, if I roll over I may pull it out. Are my eyes open? It doesn't matter; I am in my room, room 7013, 7th floor, East Wing of the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. I need sleep. Maybe if I sing to myself…"…There walks a lady we all know/ who shines white light and wants to show/ how everything still turns to gold/ And if you listen very hard/ the tune will come to you at last/ When all is one and one is all/ to be a rock and not to roll…"

Sunlight pulls me from my dreams and delivers me to under-cooked eggs and bad juice. Oh, and the round of eight men and women in white coats holding pencils and clipboards, all staring at me as if I'm some sort of lab-rat; like some test had gone terribly wrong and all the doctors were watching maliciously to see what the horrid results would be. So I do the obvious thing; I ignore them and eat my eggs while they stand at the foot of my bed feeling very uncomfortable, and just for good measure I turn on the TV. God, I'm enjoying this. I get halfway through my breakfast when Head Doctor asks me how I am doing this morning. I turn to him, my eager-to-please look on my face, and tell him I feel like I've been feeling for the past however-and-infinity long it's been I've felt this way. Some of the men and women in white look confused, so I smile. I politely explain how I just woke up, and I won't really know how I am doing until later on in the day, so if they could please come by later I'll be able to give them a more accurate answer.

My mother, quiet up until now, tells the doctors and doctors-to-be that they cannot expect me to wake up and instantly judge if any progress has been made. The doctors nod and mutter, signaling that they understand (I don't think they do), and begin to exit the room with the promise that they will send On-Call Doctor by later to see how I am. I tell them it's a date, and I'll be sure to wear my Sunday best. They leave my room unsure what to think of the sick boy in 7013, who wears Sunday clothes on Tuesday.

It's right about now that I realize my mom has been very quiet these past few weeks (four to be precise). She's been taking this a lot harder than I have. I'm fourteen years old, in my ninth grade of school, and I have ulcerative colitis. It got bad, I went to the hospital to get better, it's that simple as far as I'm concerned. No reason to cry, to scream, to feel pity for the boy in the mirror. My mom cries, my mom feels bad that I have to go through this; it gets us nowhere and solves nothing, so I don't bother. I read to pass the time, listen to music, talk to the nurses who all love me for the fact that I'm good-natured and fun, something they haven't come to expect from their patients. I sit in my white room all day, as I will continue to do for two more weeks. But I don't know that now. I don't know how much longer I'll be here, and I don't care to think about it. I just pass the day along until night comes, and with it the promise of sleep and dreams that take me somewhere else. Within two weeks one of the nice white walls will be marked with an ugly black streak; the result of my mom's shoe, which she wore as she kicked the wall in anger. Within two weeks my pickline will get stuck within my arm and postpone my release by three more hours while I eat Pizza Hut pizza from downstairs. Within two weeks I'll be home. But none of that's important to me now. I'm lying in my bed, amidst machines and wires, beeps and flashes, and the only thing on my mind is the solitary thought that I really really really wish I were asleep. "How everything still turns to gold…"

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Third place, from Julia:

So, last year, me and my 2 best friends decided to go to the King of Prussia mall for the night. King of Prussia is about 45 mins away from where we live in Lehigh Valley, PA. Our parents were weird about it and we knew they'd never let us go, so we didn't tell them. The plan was to leave after 5 and come home by 10:30, 11. 11 is the junior license driving curfew in PA. We told our parents that we were going to our guy friend's house that live about 20 mins away on Rt 873.

The drive there was pretty uneventful. We had printed directions, and taken all the appropriate routes, turnpike and W-76, arriving at KOP in under and hour. We were pretty pleased with ourselves. We left the mall at around 9:30 to give us time in case we got lost or something. We didn't have directions to return home, so we figured we'd just take the opposite roads of coming here, and follow road signs. We had taken W-76 to get to KOP, so we thought that taking E-76 would get us back to the turnpike. So, we're driving on E-76 for about 10 mins, when we realize, that it didnt take us that long on W-76. We exchange nervous smiles. Suddnely, were passing over water. That's funny, we didnt pass over water on our way here, we remark. Then, we see the Philly skyline. I think the most appropriate comment that summarizes our feelings was "NBC STUDIOS?!?!?!"

Obviously, we're lost beyond belief in Philly. It's around 10 PM now, with the curfew being enforced in about an hour. The driver runs into a gas station to get directions back to the turnpike, as me and my other friend (Jackie)sit in the car in silence. Linda, the driver, gets directions, and luckily it adds only 10-15 mins to our drive. Therefore, we can still make it home by curfew, or just breaking it by a few mins. As long as we hurry (read:speed), we're gonna be ok.

We get on the turnpike without any further incidents, with Linda doing around 85 MPH. We pass the "Lehigh Valley-27 mi" sign at around 10:30, which meant, that we were gonna make it and be alright. Ariund 30 seconds later we hear a loud BOOM!!! And the car starts limping horribly. Yup, we got a flat. Now, the hysterics can officially start.

We call our parents and ask to sleep over (to buy us time). The answer? A flat out "NO" followed by a "you better be home in 20 mins, by the way is anything wrong?" We are still lying, with "everything's fine, see ya soon." Linda is frantically calling everyone from AAA (shes not a member) to the police. Finally FINALLY, she gets a hold of a tow truck service who luckily have a truck on the turnpike right now, but hes about 30-45 mins away from us. Since we have no other choice, we sit back and wait.

Fortunately, to keep us from getting too bored, we have our parents to deal with. It's around 10:55 right now, when we realize that we have to call and say soemthing. So, we call and say that we got a flat, and were on 873, exit 12 truck will be here in 10 mins, so theres no need to worry. Our parents respond with "we'll be there in a few mins, sit tight." "no, NO!! dont come! well be home soon, bye!" we cry, but to no avail. The parents are dead set on coming to get us.

I suppose now would be a good time to mention that 873 is all of 4 miles long, and there are no exits. It just has streets. Basically, were sending our parents on a wild goose chase. They call us roughly every 2.34 minutes, with us employing new delay tactics with each call, but growing more hysterical by the minute.

The tow truck guy comes around 11:30, and check the back to see if we have a spare. Oh, we do! GOOD! Change it, and we can be home by midnight. Ha! As if anything in this story was that easy. The spare is also low on air, but its fixable. All we have to do is drive to the nearest gas station (15 miles away), to pump it up, and we can be on our way. As the tow guys is loading the car onto the truck (which was quite a vision to see at 11:40 PM), another truck comes speeding by and breaks the side view mirror. Sure, why the hell not? We didnt make curfew as it is, lets add more time! This adds another 30-40 mins to our little escapade as we have to wait for the truck to turn around at the nearest exit, and come back.

All the while, our parents are FLIPPING! They drove the entire length of 873 in under 20 minutes, and of course, didnt see us or exit 12. "oh yea mom, we pulled off into a street, but dont worry (HA! yeah right!) the tow truck guy is here, and well be home soon" OF course our parents dont believe us and continue calling. We are SO scared of answering the phone, which inturn scares our parents even more because 3 16 year olds are stuck god knows where at midnight, and stopped answering the phone.

Around 12:15-ish, the tow guy got all the info of the other trucker, and had the car completely loaded, and us settled into the truck, and we're FINALLY close to going home. We start talkingn with the tow guy, and find out that he went to our school. He sees that our parents are continously calling and asks if theres anything he can do to make it easier. After a mini debate, we ask if theres ANY chance that he can call our parents and confirm that we indeed were on 873, becasue, our parents dont believe us at all, and are 10 seconds away from calling the police. To our surprise, the tow guy AGREES, and cheerfull informs our parents that we are on 873, but hes taking us to a station now, and we should be home soon. That is the ONLY thing that went right the entire damn night. HE pumps our tire, and we set off the 30 min drive home, telling our parents that yes, well be home soon. We finally get there at aroune 1:15.

Now, lets just review. Had we not gotten lost in Philly, we would not have been speeding on the turnpike, and most likely would have been able to see/miss whatever we hit that gave us the flat. Perhaps, we would have been home earlier if the other truck hadn't come. Or maybe it would have been easier had the spare not been also flat. It was one of those nights where everything that could have gone wrong, did. Yes, we had a GREAT time explaning to our parents what happened, but we never told the truth. We stuck to the 873 story, though some questions were brought up like "why didnt we see you? why did it take SO long to get home? why didnt your guy friends help out? they know how to change tires" To this day, however, our parents dont know the ttruth. So, thats my story, which is great to look back on, but made us cry as it was happening. By the way, we can no longer use the cell tune from that night on any cell phone, cuz it brings back such traumatic memories.

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Third place II, from Chris Owens:

OK, now just a quick preface to this story….it truly and sincerely happened. I'm not (nor would I WANT to be) lying about this "problem" I had. The details may be a bit fuzzy, but the event (and all its horror) is recalled to the best of my ability.

IT all started on one bright summer day, about four or five years ago. Me and my girlfriend at the time were enjoying an evening at home. We went to the local video store and rented one of the new releases that everyone was talking about and decided to relax in front of the tube, just the two of us. Well, the movie ended up being rather uninteresting, soooo we got a little distracted. We started doing a little making out. One thing led to another, and well we began making sweet, sweet love.

The lovemaking was going really well. She was having a good time, and I was having a GREAT time, when all of a sudden…I felt a sharp pain down below. Now, to this day I have NO idea how or WHY it happened, but I broke my penis. I think it had to do with her moving rapidly one way and me moving in the opposite direction, but I have no fucking CLUE. I went from moans of pleasure to groans of pain. After a couple of minutes (I was reaaallly into the moment) I decided I should probably quit. With tears in my eyes, I informed my girlfriend that I needed to stop; that I thought something was seriously wrong. She complied, although I could see the look of disappointment in her face (she didn't get to "finish"). After removing the damaged member from its natural habitat, I examined my limp friend. It was not a pretty sight. It looked badly bruised halfway down. Huston, we have a problem.

Now, normally, under these circumstances people are usually freaked out and want to make there way to the hospital as quickly as possible. At first, that's what I wanted to do to. Remember how my girlfriend didn't finish (or me either I might add)? Well, at the time I didn't think it was broken. Aside from the initial sharp pain, and the bruising, I was A-O.K. After she started kissing it to make it feel better….well…one thing led to another and….the Titanic started to rise. This time though, the pain was worse than before and we had to quit a second time. I just couldn't handle it any longer.

About 45 minutes and a car ride later, I was sitting in the emergency room. When I got called in to see the doctor, I swore I could hear the nurses giggling as they left me in the room to undress. The doctor finally came in and asked me what my problem was. So, I told him:

"I think I broke my penis, Doc."

"You think you broke your penis?"

"Yup"

"You know that's almost impossible, right?"

"I had always assumed…"

"Well, let's take a look…..Holy mother of...!?"

The doctor then went on to tell me that it was indeed "broken" but that it would heal up fine once they found a good enough donor. I laughed nervously, hoping that he was kidding. He was. I asked him if there was anything I needed to do to speed the process up. He said that I would probably be out of commission for at least 5 weeks, and that I shouldn't get the cast wet.

Cast?

He was kidding again. Apparently, I have the funniest doctor in the world.

P.S. Everythingworks fine now.....don't make me prove it.

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Third place III, from Andrew:

(a note of caution: this had no phsycological impact that was harmful on me seeing as though i was quite young)

the year was 1985 and the decade that was known best for its exess is swinging, and a little bundle of joy was born. one Andrew McGill (soon to be Esquire), it was a short 3 and a half hours of labor for our entrepid hero's mother and none could be happier. exept one person, a broodish fellow in the corner, a one Ralph McGill, my father. this had been his third marriage and he had left the other two women acouple of years after there childeren were born. and now me, helpless and absolutly adorable. now all was fine as i and my mother were released and sent home in our 720 turbo blue volvo station wagon.

and for a week or so every thing seemed ok, on top. but bubbling under the serface Ralph wanted out. he couldn't take it. he needed an exuse to get out that door. well two weeks into my life my mother, Ralph, and i were quite peckish for some thing out on the grill. and my mom suggested salmon. Goo Goo Gaa Gaa, knowing good and well i was going to get that gerber shit, i stayed out of the conversation. Ralph piped up, " i'll go get the salmon dear!"

"okay honey!" my mother said.

well, he walked out the door and we didn't hear from him for 3 months......

he musta been getting some pretty freakin fresh salmon. he left my mother, his exuse to leave ............ salmon. now im nearly 18 its been alittle under 18 years since i really seen my father. because of salmon. i've found the comedy in this over the years. i can honestly say this has played an interesting part in my life. i think of salmon in a way no one can. in fact eating salmon for dinner has allways been alittle joke here at the homestead. now that im older and im knowlagable on all the bull shit exuses people use to get out of the house to go for ever (i.e. goin out to get some smokes) i will allways wonder, why salmon? why didn't he just leave, why did he wait untill dinner. i guess if he hadn't i wouldn't be the character i am today. or be in the running for a hat! we'll thats one of the things that makes me me! there are various other things (i.e. an incedent in which a home made blow dart met my eye) but thats for another day. thank you and good night.

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And here are the rest of the stories, which i think are worth your while:

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Something that i think is very important to read, but couldn't accept because it wasn't written by her, and i thought that would be kind of unfair to the folks who spent time writing something:

(From Mariella)

This is a document that a friend of mine wrote up for the authorites after she became a victim of a crime. This is a little depressing and disturbing. This is a true story.

Skyler and I went upstairs to find Kevin, who was talking to Mr.Vesperman. Skyler stayed upstairs to talk to Mr. Vesperman and Kevin and I went downstairs on the elevator. We (Kevin and I) sat in the lobby at a table working on homework. Kevin said he could not find his history book so he assumed it was in his locker. He went to the elevator and then asked me to go with him. We took the elevator upstairs and then walked to his locker. The book wasn't in his locker, so he figured it was at home. Walked back to the elevator and he asked me if I had ever dated anyone before. We kept walking and he asked me if I wanted to kiss him. I said I didn't know, I didn't want to but I also did not want to hurt his feelings. I talked so that he wouldn't have a chance to try to kiss me. When we got on the elevator I stopped to take a breath and he stepped towards me, put his arms around my shoulders and started kissing me. My arms were down at my sides and I was standing in the middle of the elevator. He started rubbing my butt and my chest.

When the light came on for the first floor he stopped and when the door open Mr. Nudo, the gym teacher, was walking past. Kevin stopped to talk to him and I walked back to the table while they remained in front of the elevator. I went back to my school work at the table and he said that he would be right back and went into the cafeteria. I took out my CD player and was about to put my headphones on when I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He gestured for me to come by him. He was standing inside the doorway of the cafeteria. He called out for me to come by him. I walked towards him and he walked towards the soda machines on the west side of the cafeteria. (Pepsi & Snapple) I felt sort of strange going into the cafeteria because there weren't other people around and I was slightly worried because of what he had done on the elevator. We sat on the heat register and talked a little bit more. He mentioned that there was soda in the Snapple machine. He walked into the back of the cafeteria and said he would be right back.

After about a minute I got impatient and got up to leave the cafeteria and go back to the lobby. I started to walk out but he came back, so I waited. He told me to come by him, I asked him why and he just said 'Come here.' At that point I thought everything was going to be fine because he was acting normal again, so I followed him. He was standing in the hallway near the ketchup and mustard. I followed him back towards the bathrooms and he opened the door to the staircase. That door is normally locked, so I was suspicious of both him knowing that the door was unlocked and that it was unlocked at all. He went inside the door and I followed him in, I had started to get scared and apprehensive because there was no one else around. He 'It looks okay.' And I asked him 'Okay for what?' He began to do the same thing he did in the elevator, kissing me and rubbing my body. My arms were at my side but then I put them around him because I was afraid he would hurt me if he thought I was resisting him at that point. His arms were wrapped around the back of my neck. We were standing up near the wall on the landing. He said 'Grab it.' And I said 'What?!!" I was shocked at what he had said. He repeated himself again and I told him no. I spoke in a louder than normal tone and tried to push him away, but not to hard. I walked back out and looked up at the clock. It was near 4:45. I walked back towards the lobby and he called out for me to come back. I turned around and looked at him, he said just come

on. So I thought well maybe he's going to apologize and things are going to be okay. I was still afraid of him doing something too me but I went back anyway, hoping for the best. We walked back into the staircase and he began to do the same things he had done before and I was more resistant so he put his arm around my neck so that I couldn't get away. That's when he put his hand down my pants and actually put his finger in my vagina. He was very rough. I froze for a few seconds but then I began trying to pull away from him. His arm was too tightly around my for me to get away. I tried to act normal after I realized I wasn't going to be able to get away in hopes that he would loosen up his grip and I could get out. That's when he took his hand out of my pants and forced my hand down his pants inside his boxers. I quickly removed my hand because he let go right away. He seemed surprised that I removed my hand and he loosened his grip around my neck, letting it go limp. He was no longer holding me tightly; he was more resting his arm on my shoulders at that point. I pushed him away and left the staircase and went back to the lobby immediately.

At that point I was very afraid and I felt like it was my fault because I trusted him so many times when I shouldn't have. I felt taken advantage of, like I had been used. I was near tears but I tried to behave normally so that no one would suspect anything. There weren't many people around at that point and even if I told someone what had happened they wouldn't be able to do something right away. I was also afraid that they might leave me with Kevin and he would become angry and do something worse to me. I went back to the table and packed up my belongings, put on my coat and sat back down. I didn't think my mother would be there. She was supposed to pick me up at 5 o'clock. It was about 4:50 at the time. Kevin came back out of the cafeteria and walked into the phone booth. He made a collect call home to see when his brother would be there to pick him up. No one answered so he came back to the table and sat down. I had taken out my cd's and cd player and he asked if he could see my cd case. He was looking through it and asked if he could borrow my Alien Ant Farm cd. I loaned it to him because I wanted him to leave me alone and I was afraid of what his reaction would be. I just wanted to keep him happy. After that I went to go check if my mom was there to pick me up. I took my belongings and went to the door so I left. In the car, I put my headphones on right away, and my mother asked me if something was bothering me. I told her no. I was confused and needed more time to think before I told my parents.

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And then this tasty bit, from Rachel:

I have two fun stories for you, and they both involve me ovulating. Two things you need to know beforehand: first, during my ovulation, my face sporadically turns red, and second, my best friend Nicole knows me well enough by now to know this. So here's the first story:

This is my first year of college and I have missed my high school friends a lot. So over winter break, we all got together for our "regular" weekend hangout - playing an hour or two of pool at the local white-trash pool hall, which blares incessant Nelly and Ludacris (we love fighting over the jukebox with the kids from the ghetto), and then heading off to get some high-quality food at Steak N Shake. I don't know if you have Steak N Shakes where you live, but they are open 24 hours a day, and they serve exactly what the name suggests: steaks and shakes. And some other food too. But I digress. So I'm at Steak N Shake with 8 people, just sitting around talking and laughing and generally having a raucous good time. (Like how I threw the word "raucous" in there?) Suddenly my friend Emma turns to me and says, "hey Rachel, why is your face so red?" I say, "I don't know, I didn't realize it was." Nicole says right away, in a semi-loud voice, "It's because she's ovulating." Emma looks at me and says, a bit louder, "You're ovulating?" Then my friend Todd (who is a bit flamboyant) looks over from across the table and yells, "Who's ovulating?" Nicole points dramatically at me and shouts, "She's ovulating!!!" By this time, everyone in the Steak N Shake is looking over at us because we are so loud, and if my face wasn't red before, it certainly was at that point. They applaud; I do the only thing left to do, which is look around, smile as calmly as possible, and go about finishing my orange freeze.

(A little side note to that story: after the whole ovulating extravaganza, Nicole, Todd and I go outside the Steak N Shake door so Todd can have a cigarette. While we are out there, we somehow get on the topic of STDs, crabs in particular. Just as I say, "man, I hope I never get crabs, no one wants a girl with bugs," an elderly gentleman who had been sitting in the Steak N Shake walks out. He stops in front of us, turns to me, and says, "Aren't you the girl who was ovulating?" I nod. "Good luck with your crabs," he says and walks away.)

OK, on to my second story. So it's about a month after winter break and I'm back at school. I'm sitting in my German class before class starts, talking to my friend Anna. She looks at me and says, "Rachel, why is your face all red?" (Are we sensing a theme here?) So I whisper, "I'm ovulating right now." Anna says, "What?" real loud, and I match her loudness by almost yelling, "I'm ovulating right now!" just as the rest of the class goes silent. All these college students who hardly know me are now staring at me, so I begin laughing until I'm almost crying and put my head down on my arm. It was too funny and embarrassing all at the same time. I am still in the German class, and either no one remembers my ovulating outburst, or They're just too polite to bring it up. Except for Anna of course.

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Here's the kind of situation we all never want to be in, from Kitty:

I work at an adult store. No, not a "sex shop" or a "porn shop". But a place where adults can buy...marital aids, lingeire, videos, things that vibrate...ok, yeah, it's a sex shop. But a nice, clean, well-lit sex shop with antibacterial soap and everything. Yes, my family knows. My mother was mortified when I told her I got the job there. "I don't know I feel about my 21 year old daughter working in one of thoses places." Neither did I, at the time. But like I said, it's higher on the totem pole than say, the gift shop at the strip club.

But I digress. My story takes place last August. I was working with one of my male managers, a nice guy but a little eager on the sale. It was late afternoon and we were putting out some stock when an older women, approxamately 45, comes wandering in. She looked somewhat uncomfortable, which was normal for women in her age range, so I smiled and said hello. My manager asks if she needed help with anything. She paused, then painfully admitted, yes, she did. Then, looks at me and nods her head, gesturing for me to approach her. Now, I was still fairly new to the business and wasn't sure I could answer whatever question was gnawing at her. However, I literally took a deep breath and began walking towards her.

As I drew closer and out of earshot of my manager, she whispers to me, "I want to talk to you about some

hot, throbbin' cock." *Insert image of cartoonish double-take here*

I was floored. "Wh-what?" I replied, hoping I had misheard her. But no, she repeated herself and continued to her real question: Where were the strap-ons?

I calmly lead her to that section and tried desperately to regain my professional attitude. I showed her our various models, sizes, and accessories. She asked questions I had heard before and was able to answer. Our initial exchange began fading from the foreground of my mind. She picks up a harness accessory and asks me how big the waist will expand.

She herself being a smaller woman, I figured her partner was a full figured gal and assured her it should adjust to fit just about anyone. The she asks "Well, I mean, do you think it will go around a saddle?"

"Oh," I reply slowly, praying that I could maintain at least the facade of tact, "like a... saddle-saddle?"

And she assured me yes, like a horse saddle. Or did we by chance have some more appropriate means of attachment?

Well, I paused, thinking "-This- is what I do for a living...help women attach dildos to saddles."

I asked her how long she needed things to stay attched and she laughed and explained that it was for a practical joke. Her sister was recently divorced and an avid horseback rider. The whole family hated the ex husband and wanted to celebrate her choice.   I managed to begin breathing normal again and helped her pick out what she could use, now knowing the full story. Well, at least hoping it was the true story and not some cover-up story resulting from my reaction. To this day, I wonder how the joke went over and if, indeed, that strap went around the saddle.

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A story that kind of shocked me, from Brandon:

This happened to me when I was 14, i'm 16 now. My Mom had been seeing this guy named Steve and he had been secretly drinking. He kept it a secret for about 4 months, untill this one night he came home in a drunken rage. It all played out like this...

It was around 8 or 9 at night and Steve hadn't come yet. Around 9:30, my Mom told me to get something out of the car. A newspaper, I think. So, it's completly dark and I stumble around the backseat of the car looking for the paper. And that's when I hear "HEY!" come out of no where. I was so scared, I flew back and slammed my head on the frame of the car door. After I few seconds, the only thing I could say was, "...Hello...?"

Steve was in the front seat. Drunker then hell. While he stumbles out of the car he says, "Brandon...Brandon...I wanna tell you something..." And I say, "Alright..." as i'm running to the front door. I slam the door, lock it and tell my Mom Steve's out there. Then he starts slamming on the door, yelling "SHELLY!!!!" He stumbles around the house slamming on windows, yelling, "SHELLY!!!" After a little while, we decide to call the police. When they get here. Steve's gone. They go to the backyard and find him sleeping under a lawn chair. The cuff'em, pull him to the front of the house. The cop's are asking us questions and the usual stuff, he's in the background looking all mean and stuff. Then he starts to walk away and get violent and they finally throw him in there car. He bellows, "SHELLY!!!" at the tops of his lungs untill the cops finally pull off. Steves now in a Correctional Facility awaiting release.

That's the story of one of the most tramatic nights of my life.

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An awesome day in D.C., from (i think) Tony:

I once interned for a prominent Senator in D.C. where I was the assistant to his Public Relations honco (aka The Spin Doctor). Being the new guy I was looking to make an impression, or break the ice if you will. I saw a black and white newspaper photo on his door of a haggard old man shaking hands with another person.

I, being the young prodigy and regular Conan O'Brien viewer commented, "This is guy looks like the result of Jerry Springer and Storm Thurmond having a kid." He looked at me and using his natural Spin Doctor tatics he nodded and said, "Yeah, I guess your right."

I break a smile ear-to-ear... one point for the good guys!

He continues, "That's my father."

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Winner of the this-is-thankfully-not-my-job award, from Justin:

Here's the funniest true story I've heard in awhile. Happened to a friend, he told me about it.

Well my aforementioned friend works for Medevac doin unimportant shit for them when they go on emergency calls, the kind of shit the EMTs don't want to be bothered with. So they get this one call and they show up at the house and he walks in to see a redfaced kid sittin in a chair and his naked friend laying on a bed covered with a blanket. So the paramedic asks this kid what happened cause the call just said the kid got knocked unconcious and it's pretty obvious that they weren't sparring. So I guess when the paramedic asks him this kid just gets this look on his face like a kid that has a small penis and when his girlfriend goes down on him for the first time she just looks at it and laughs.

So the kid says "Well..." and it starts to make a little sense to my buddy as to why the kid in the bed is naked cause judging by his voice this kid is flaming. So the kid goes on "umm... well, I'm gay and he's my boyfriend." and just stops like that explains it. So the paramedics look at each other the one that's doin' the talking looks back and says "And...". So the kids gettin' really embarrased and he just doesn't wanna talk, so the Paramedic says "Well, it's obvious you were having sex so you just wanna tell us what happened so we can help your uh... partner." So the kid says "Do you know what shrimping is?"

The paramedics look at each other and they're all clueless so they look back at him and he starts off again. "umm... well, it's when you umm... suck the cum out of another guys ass with a straw." So the paramedics are all havin this weird feeling like they don't know if they're ganna laugh or be grossed out but they know they can't do either without makin' the kid even more embarrassed than he already is. So the paramedic says "Ok so you guys were doing this umm... shrimping? right?"

The kid says "Uh, well he was doing it to me." And the paramedics are like "Ok well umm... what went wrong did you like jerk and knock his head off the headboard or somethin."

And the kid gets EVEN MORE embarrassed and by know he looks like a fuckin' tomato and he says "Uhh.... no.... umm.... I.... uh.... farted."

Now the paramedics all look at each other and are tryin' their hardest not to laugh and my friend loses it. So all it took was some smelling salts and the kid was back on his feet. I guess that's about all there is to it. No big finish or anything. But it's a true story and that's that.

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A human experiment, from Jennifer:

I am a freshman in college, and decided to take a psychology class to fill my social science requirement. In order to pass this course, each student must earn 4 "R-Points" While reading the new list of experiments available, I saw one that read "$30 and 2 R-Points." Obviously, this seemed great, since it offers the 30 bucks which none of the other ones do. So I signed up.

Little did i know what i was getting myself into...

So I go into this room and fill out a few forms and the experiment conductor starts telling me about the experiment:

Ricardo: "i'm going to put a cap with electrodes on your head in order to register your brain's reaction to some musical stimuli"

me: "ok"

him: i have to fill each electrode with a water solluble gel that helps conduct electricity...don't worry, you won't feel the electricity- we're just measuring the electricity in your brain"

me: "hmm...ok...did you say gel?"

him: "yeah"

me: "will it get on me?"

him: "yeah...i have to injefct it, through the electrode- onto your scalp."

me: "the payment is cash right....?"

him: "yeah."

So there I am with a cap with 64 electrodes and wires on my head...waiting patiently for the guy to set it up...he starts by placing a green cream in a few places on my face, and tapes 6 electrodes to my face and behind my ears. Then I see this huge tub of "gel" ...and a suringe...so he starts filling the electrodes with this thick, white, salty smelling gel. It's so cold and all over me, and I can feel it all over my hair. I laugh at the thought of what I look like, but figure it can't be that bad.

So I begin the experiment. I am plugged into a computer and told I cannot move or blink while the music is playing. The experiment ask if I play an instrument and how well I would rate my musical skill on the instrument.

For what seemed to be the most disgusting 45 minutes on my life, I sat motionless in a chair listening to some music. The test was boring as hell. "Listen to some chords being played...listen to about 5 seconds of music...press p to continue...blah blah blah blah blah."

Ricardo later asks me how many different sequences I noticed. I say 6 or 7...he says "yeah there were 6. you did a great job."...good to know i'm good at something...

Now, I am soo excited that this whole process is finally over, because I just can't wait to get back to my dorm and shower. So Ricardo goes to take the cap off- and it's stuck. He yanks and yanks until finally the cap comes off, leaving me with a few lost hairs, and a sore head.

Then Ricardo tells me that there is a bathroom down the hall if I want to try to rinse the gel out of my hair. My hair is covered in disgusting, smelly white stuff. The gel is everywhere, and it does not come out easily. My face is a green tint and I have huge red marks from the elastic band around my head.

A girl then comes out of one of the stalls. She looks terrified at the sight of me. I then realize just how bad it is. So I threw my hat on my head and nearly ran back to my dorm so that now one would see me or recognize me.

I really am making a name for myself here. I used to be the girl who slipped and fell on the ice. Now i'm the monster from the Smith Hall bathroom.

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A life-changing experience, from Jill:

I can assure you that this story happened to my husband and me way back when we were a new couple. <raises right hand> Scouts Honor!

***BEGIN STORYTELLING***

Remember back to November 1993 with me for a moment.

My boyfriend Mike and I had been dating for about 6 months, and his parents invited me to their Family Thanksgiving Get-together. Now, this isn't just your usual Thanksgiving dinner. His Aunt has this big, beautiful rustic cabin in the foothills of the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee, and the entire family goes up there for Thanksgiving--the ENTIRE family. Well, I decided to forgo the travesty that is a Thanksgiving with *my* family, and spend this particular holiday with them. It was a free 3 day vacation in the mountains, wasn't it?

OK, now as of this time, he and I had not become intimate, but on the drive up to the cabin from our college in Alabama (about a 6 hour drive) we decided that this might just be the perfect time and the perfect setting for our first time together.

We arrived at the cabin, and I mean literally every member of his family was there (about 30 people). Since I was a guest and not *yet* an official member of their family, they gave me one of the guest rooms by myself. This would work out perfectly, or so we thought.

About midnight, Mike slipped into my room, and locked the door behind him. Well, very quietly, we proceeded with our "business". About an hour and a half later, he got up to sneak out of the door and back to his place on one of the couches in the great room, where he and some others were sleeping. Um, well, little did we know that the door lock was dysfunctional, and therefore, he was locked in the room with me...as was the evidence of what had gone on in that room.

Now, being the smart and resourceful people that we are---who am I kidding? We both panicked!! He finally decided to open the window and climb out. Then he would just go to the front door, knock, hope that it would be his brother or cousins that answered the door, and all would be OK.

NO WAY!!-- As he was walking around the house, he bumped into the trash cans right outside the room where his Aunt and Uncle were sleeping, and they thought it might be a theif. So, his Uncle turns on the light in the room, goes to the closet, and gets his shotgun. He then proceeds to go to the great room (where approximately 7-8 assorted cousins are sleeping) and in his attempt to try and not wake anyone in there, he steps on 2 or 3 of them!

So, now, we have about 5 people awake in the very "echo-prone" great room, which starts to awaken others in the house. Michael's Uncle flips on the flood lights, opens up the door, and sees Michael standing there. Of course, now everyone is wondering why he is out in the 28* weather in the middle of November with no shoes, and this towel in his hand. Then, he has to tell them that I am locked in that room, and people start to put 2 and 2 together. About 30 minutes later, the door comes off of that room, and we are both as red-faced as we can be.

Needless to say, that was a very interesting Thanksgiving day...no one ever said anything about it to us, but the looks we got that day were priceless!!

Mike and I have been married now for almost 9 years, and every other Thanksgiving, we still go to the cabin to spend Thanksgiving with his family. We still sleep in that room, too. Although now, there is *NO DOOR* on that bedroom!

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Star-gazing victory, from Moni:

(background: Moni is a huge Steve Buscemi fan, and found a guy that works at a local store that apparently looks just like him. So, she swings in every once in a while, just to check him out. This appears to the be conclusion of her saga...)

I went back to the electronics store where he works and played some solitaire on one of the computers they have for sale. One of the clerks came over to me, looked over my shoulder for a few minutes while I played, and announced, "You suck at this game."

I looked over my shoulder at him (he was leaning so far that when I turned my head our noses were pretty much touching) and told him, "I know."

"So why have you been playing for the last half hour?"

"I actually stopped for a while to play Mindsweep."

"Any better luck there?"

"No, I suck at that too."

This made him laugh, so he ended up giving me a few 'helpful' pointers on solitaire that weren't all that helpful at all. Then he asked if I came to use the computers, or if I was planning on buying one. Or anything, for that matter. I figured this guy was pretty nice, so I filled him in on my 'little' obsession on Steve Buscemi and how I have seen a guy who looks exactly like him working here on a few occasions. After he stopped laughing, (that little bitch) he told me the guy's name was actually 'David'. And he CALLED HIM OVER. I think I died. I am soo dead right now. Like, totally.

So 'David' comes over and that ASS explains everything to him. What could I do? I started laughing. Hard. Very, very hard. I had my back against the keyboard, all slouched over. I was laughing that hard. Tears down my face, the whole bit. Luckily, 'David' laughed too. He said that he takes it as a compliment, and that he is a fan himself. He also said he would be happy to sign my bra. Politely, I declined.

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Flashbacks, from Eric:

Around a year ago, I was in a long distance relationship with a girl attending a college in Texas (You may even remember this.. I'm not sure why, or what the subject was exactly, but I remember talking to you about leaving to visit her in a few days, two Septembers ago). Her name was Savannah, and our relationship lasted about nine months before I learned that she had been cheating on me for quite a while - I only found out when her latest boyfriend dumped her, and she turned to me for a shoulder to cry on. Being that I was just learning about what she had been doing behind my back, I would have none of it. I hung up on her, and it would be months until we talked again.

Now, a couple of weeks ago, I was in my history class. I was nodding off, and meanwhile, our instructor was going off about savannahs in Africa, to which I quietly responded to with, "dirty bitch", which got everyone to look at me like I was talking about my teacher. I got an embarassed smirk and said "oh, nono, not her.", which probably just meant that they thought I was talking about about the environment of savannahs.

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Headaches, from Skatebrak:

about six months ago, I decided to take a trip to the 7-11, which is a couple blocks from where I live. I grabbed my skateboard, and my cd player and off I went. I was coasting down the road next to the median where there were a bunch of big trees. It was a windy day, and the tree branches in southern california tend not to be very strong. Anyway, there I was, just rolling along, listening to my music, and minding my own affair.....and then all of a sudden......."CRACK!" (that's the sound of a very large tree branch starting to crack) and then " ...... " (that's the sound of me not noticing the sound of the cracking tree branch, because im wearing headphones.) and then "WHAM!" (That's the sound of a very large tree branch smacking me directly on the back of the head and me hitting the pavement.)

A few seconds later, I come to and realize what happened and I start screaming. When I realize this isn't helping me any, I get up and stumble over into someone's yard and eventually to their front door where I begin to knock. A lady answers the door and once she realizes that I'm not trying to sell anything, I tell her what happened and ask her if i can use her phone. I call my mom, and she picks me up and then I'm whisked away to the magical land of the emergency room, where I spend the afternoon telling everyone what happened and watching them trying not to laugh. They took a bunch of X-rays, and after determining that I do have a brain, and some swollen muscles and whatnot, they decided to give me the special priveledge of wearing a neckbrace that looks like a giant maxi-pad for the next week...and some vicotin. so the moral of this story, kids, is : never skate under trees on windy days while wearing headphones unless you want to get laughed at by all of your friends because your neck looks like it's having its period.

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Ways to waste time, from Loki:

About four years ago, my family went and visited my aunt and uncle. This was a three-pronged visit, not only as a form of vacation and to see my cousin's wedding, but also because my sister was searching for the right college to go to. Now, to properly set the stage, my parents and my sister were off at one of the colleges and my aunt and uncle were working. My uncle is a guidance counselor for a school in the area and the school year was still going on up there. They also have a pool behind the house. I decided to take a dip and afterwards, went into the small enclosed patio that stood between the back yard and the house. The door into the house was locked. I spent a few hours keeping boredom at bay in various ways, such as reading cards from a board game or occasionally considering half-assed plans to get back into the house. Eventually my uncle came home, saw I was locked out, and laughed for a few minutes before opening the door.

As it turns out, the door will lock if you don't turn the lock on the door all the way around. To add insult to injury, there was even a spare key hidden in the adjacent workroom because this had happened so many times to them.

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Ruining childhoods, from Lenn:

I used to work at a YMCA. As I was working, I would chat with the babysitters and go back and forth with them about stuff. I'm a huge Kevin Smith fan, so a lot of Kevin Smith stuff pops up in a lot of my conversations.

One day I was arguing back and forth with a babysitter and forgetting where I was I belted out the famous Willam line from Mallrats, "You know what! There is no Easter Bunny..." Not a second later, a young voice shouts back at me, "There is too!!"

That isn't the end though...

Later on that day as I was making my rounds, yes I did actually 'work' there...the little girl had been picked up by her dad and they were on their way out the front doors. As I crossed their path the little girl shouted out, "Daddy, that boy said there was no Easter Bunny!"

Needless to say, I was quite embarrassed.

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Young love in epic detail, from Jordan:

This is a completely true story that happened in 2000 after high school had finished. I'm from Australia so mind some Aussie slang. Enjoy!

Warrnambool...one word...many opinions...heaps of great moments...it had been over-praised by Craig and had been over-bashed by Snapes...finally I wanted to see what Warrnambool had to offer...but mostly I wanted to see the glories of...

WARRNAMBOOL

Craig and some friends (which included Snapes) went down to Warrnambool during the summer holidays and they had a ball...(well everyone except for Snapes did)...and Craig loved the place more than ever. Some thought he was delusional (not looking at anyone Snapes) but they would be put in their place if they experienced Warrnambool. So now it was my turn.

Craig picked me up and we left in the Barge. Not long after did we experience the first moment of the trip. We just made it to a petrol station in time to fill Barge up. If I had of experienced this 24 months ago I would have been a little concerned but it seem like formality to run your petrol tank down to the last drop. Anyway, we proceeded to pick up Chris, who was also coming to Warrnambool. We took it upon ourselves to waste some vital petrol by driving around Gisborne before we left. But we did get on our way, and everything was fine. The weather was above 30 degrees, and we were make good progress. Then we took a wrong turn. I think Craig knew he where he was supposed to go but he was bored and decided to follow another car. That was our excitement up until that point.

At a small town called Elephant Hill (the hill resembled a pig rather than an Elephant), and every person waved at us. Whether they were being friendly or there was a conspiracy remains to be seen. Nevertheless, we pressed on and finally we arrived in Warrnambool in just under four hours. I was shown around the spots, and with the spots came stories, stories that I had heard before but they still sounded fresh. Then we headed up to pick up Kylie (whose house we were staying at...thanks again!). So, we waited and waited for her and finally she came and Craig's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

(NOTE: Craig liked Kylie who was going out with Ben, who was Craig's soon-to-be flat buddy. Kylie wanted to be with Craig...as you do...I tried to tell them that they'll get rid of Ben if they did the Seinfeld plan...menage a trois...they didn't listen to me...and so the weekend was already looking interesting.)

So we all went back to Kylie's place and we laid on her bed. We were exhausted. She had to go to work at 5 so we didn't get too cosy. We got a call from Ben and went to pick him up after dropping Kylie off at work. This was my first meeting with Ben, and I must say that he seemed cool, like most people I know but there was a sinister look about him like he had an agenda. From there we went to K-Mart, deciding we wanted a Soccer ball, after trying out every soccer ball there we found the cheapest. We also met a pesky little kid who threatened to tell on us. Then it was off to Lake Pertobe, where we played Soccer, it was hot so we went to the beach so that Ben could surf. That took up an hour. At this point of the trip I thought it was going to be just like another trip but was I wrong.

We got Kylie after dropping Ben off at home and went back to her place. 10 o'clock came and Craig and Kylie conveniently went to pick up Ben. Chris and I stayed and played the playstation. At 10:45pm or so, Kylie's mobile rang (she left it at home), so I answered it. It was Ben. "Where's Kylie?" he said. "I dunno, she left a couple of minutes ago to pick you up" I said sensing something was going on. So, he said he'd wait and I said "good". 20 minutes later, they all came back. They said that the car had over-heated but Chris and I knew the real story.

So now Ben was with us, I don't think that he trusted 3 guys alone with his girlfriend. So we continued playing the Playstation, and 7 hours later we were still playing it. At 3 am, Craig had an idea to get breakfast at Macca's the second it opened. This was the best idea he had ever had. At 4:45am we watched Clerks. Well, Chris watched Clerks. I fell asleep for 5 minutes, Craig fell asleep for 20 minutes. Then Rage came on, and we were stuck in front of the TV for 5 hours watching crap songs and listening to our stomachs rumble. It got to 9:30am, 3 hours after Macca's had opened and we decided to go and get breakfast. Calling us lazy would be an insult to lazy people.

We all stayed in bed till 11:00am but we migrated to Kylie's bed once she went to work, where we played the Playstation for 5 hours or at least till she got home. Ben left and it was just the 4 of us. We listened to music and talked about everything. We discussed dinner even. And we got it to, at 9pm. We also got videos and alcohol. The 3 perfect ingredients. We had no lunch that day. We sat down to watch "Two Hands", and half way through Ben arrived as drunk as ever. He sat on Chris.

Then the film ended and the parents went to bed and we stayed up to rock on. More drinking occurred. I sat next to Ben, then realising that he smelt like a skunk I sat next to Chris. Then the infamous Macca came around with his buddies. I had heard about Macca, he was quickly becoming a legend in Gisborne and now I know why. This guy is pure character nothing else. They only stayed for a little while and left. Craig and I took keen interest in watching Chris fall asleep and then suddenly wake up, take a sip of his beer and then fall asleep again. He continued this cycle for at least 10 mins.

As soon as Full Metal Jacket finished, Chris and I rushed to Kylie's bedroom. We wanted that bed. So we claimed it. I fell asleep and then awoke not long after to find Kylie hitting Chris across the head with a pillow. I ignored it and went back to sleep. Then when I awoke later, I found Ben sleeping next to me. I was rather disturbed by Ben and his rather bad odour so I asked Ben what he was doing. He said he was trying to sleep. I knew that Craig and Kylie would be alone on the couch and at the risk of Ben walking in on them I stalled him. So we talked for 2 hours about everything. I got a little worried when he stuck on the conversation of gays but I kept well away from him that night. Anyway, he informed me of some information about he feelings for Kylie (they were good) and his feelings for Chris (they were bad). He said that he didn't trust Chris with Kylie but he said he was fine with Craig sleeping on the same couch as Kylie. (Deep down I was in hysterics...if he only knew)

I felt that it was my duty to tell Craig and Kylie about this. So, Ben fell asleep. I don't know how with the terrible smell in the room. So, after politely asking if I could come in with them, I told them what Ben had said. They too had their laugh. Well, I stayed in there for about 2 hours, I commented on the cool French Doors, which weren't French Doors. But they looked like French Doors, there should have been French Doors there. Then the time had come for me to venture back into the Room of Reek. Back to the Sultan of Smell. I took one sniff and I was nearly knocked out. The smell was unbearable. Not only that, Ben had taken up the whole bed, and to top it all off, he was snoring. But the smell, it was as if the B.O had B.O. The B.O was multiplying. All I knew was if I could close my eyes, I might have a chance of falling asleep.

I didn't really sleep, I just laid there with my eyes shut and my mind off. Ben kicked me numerous of times, and he took over the bed. It got to the point where the floor was looking good. But it didn't eventuate to that. Salvation came in the form of Kylie. It was like in the movies, when something joyful happens and they play "Halleluiah". That's how I was feeling. Kylie said "it smells in here". And she said come and talk to her in the lounge room. Craig was asleep. We talked for about 3 or so hours and Craig occasionally chimed in with a comment or two. Kylie and I knew that I couldn't go back to the terrible stench of that room, with the overbearing smell it contained. It may have gotten stronger, who knows?

Anyway, dawn broke. It was Sunday. Craig had informed me of Chris's weird behaviour...for a while he was in the lounge room with Kylie and Craig. I think they were being a little too friendly for the likes of Chris, who fell off his chair onto the ground. After a minute of laying down, he got up and stormed out of the room. Craig thought that this was bizarre. We brought in our bags from the car outside and we all had showers. Then Ben left. We were all happy.

Sunday Afternoon - "Quiet Time"

We drove around Warrnambool and finally played some Mini-Golf. Craig came in 1st, Chris was 2nd and I finished up 3rd. Then we all went to Hopkins Falls. I think Craig went there because he likes Anthony Hopkins. (If there had of been a place called "Maguire Falls" or "Cruise Falls" we would have went there). Craig and Kylie laid in the shade and for a short while they were free from Ben. They soaked up the freedom. I don't think I saw them as happy as they were in that hour. Maybe it was because they had no Ben or maybe it was the fact that no one could see them. Or maybe it was the fact that they knew that they were together. It could have been raining, and minus 20 degrees at the moment but still they wouldn't have noticed, they were free. They had each other. Chris and I left them to themselves and went off into a different direction. I spent some quality time with Norman the cow. He was the only cow who didn't run from me and he had the best 'moo'. Yes, you could say me and Norman hit it off from the beginning.

Well Ben was at work and he had school the next day so there was no chance of him dropping in...right? Wrong. He dropped in unannounced. So we all were once again in that room playing the playstation, and me and Chris were drinking. Ben and Craig were playing the playstation. Kylie waited behind them, looking at Craig with admiration. After each race, Ben would turn around and kiss Kylie. It wasn't a graceful kiss, it was a rough kiss. This was where I saw a chance to intervene. I knew she wasn't enjoying. So I took it upon myself to initiate a plan. It was gutsy but it would save Kylie from the torment of Ben's wrath and smell. So, I spoke up.

"Kylie, what's your favourite movie, Kylie?" I loudly asked.

As soon as she heard her name, no wait, as soon as she heard the first syllable of her name, she jumped up away from Ben's control. She had the biggest grateful smile on her face. She mouth the words "thank you". And I knew my plan had worked. All I got from Ben was a foul look, which I got used to. He went to his game and we continued an interesting conversation of movies. : )

It got too late and Ben wanted to go home. He didn't try to kiss Kylie again after I had interrupted. He did look like he was going to but then he looked at me looking at him and thought otherwise. So, Craig and Kylie drove him home. Chris and I stayed and drank heaps and listened to Midnight Oil, I was informed of each song's meaning. An hour later and they still weren't back. All of a sudden Kylie's mobile phone rang and I answered it. It was her dad. He was angry. He wanted to know where they were. I told him they'd be back soon. He bought it. 20 minutes later and they were home. Anyway, we continued to drink. And 11pm came and we were kicked out from Kylie's bedroom. So, we stumbled to the lounge room, where we (Craig, Chris and me) piled onto the futon bed. I don't remember much of that night after that. Except I knew that for awhile I had half the bed to myself. Monday morning came and Kylie, dressed for school, came in to see if we were awake. I was. So, I informed her of the night that couldn't remember and she filled me in on the missing parts. How she came in to talk to us but we were asleep and how Craig spent half the night on the floor. It was news to me.

This was the last morning we were supposed to spend there. So we made the most of it. Kylie's dad asked if we'd be still there when he came back for lunch. We said 'nah'. Well, we left the place at 11am. An hour shy of lunchtime. And we went to inspect a flat for Craig. It was ideal. Everything you'd ever want in a flat this had it. So, we went to get Ben out of school to show him it. He fell in love with the place. Anyway, we didn't want to leave Warrnambool, it was too good to leave. So, we decided to stay another night. We went back to Ben's place so that he could change. (I was hoping he'd shower so he wouldn't smell) And then the next save came about. Ben said "Hey, do you know why Kylie has been acting so weird? She's been doing it ever since you guys came." There was a silence. Craig looked a bit worried. And then I notice a group school photo of Ben, and I spoke up one more time. "Where are you in this photo?" I said. And then like vultures, Chris and Craig flew over to the photo and looked at the photo. Ben had been distracted, Craig was once again relieved.

From Ben's place we went to play Mini-Golf. I came last again with Ben coming 1st, Craig 2nd and Chris 3rd. Ben may have won the game but Craig had won the thing that mattered. So, we went back to Kylie's place in an attempt to stay there another night. We were allowed. So, this was when the moment came that everything came to an end. We (Craig, Chris, Kylie, Ben and me) were all in her bedroom. Chris said that he lost his wallet, Craig said "let's go to the car to see if we can find it." Then there were 3 (me, Kylie and Ben). Ben looked at me as if to say "get out of here", he had one thing on his mind but he knew my strategy. I just sat there. There was silence. He couldn't make his move because of me. And Kylie looked at me with a "thank you" look. And then I shut down Ben completely. I started a conversation with Kylie. Cutting Ben out of the equation completely. And then Craig and Chris came back.

Kylie and Ben went off, and she gave him the bad news. He stormed off without a word. Slamming doors. Acting more immature than he did when he was with Kylie. We were told of what happened and we knew that it was for the best. Craig could now be with Kylie without any worries. No more Ben. There was one more problem. Craig was supposed to move in a flat with Ben. It could be difficult. Well, after that, nothing else happened. We did finally leave on the Tuesday. And we knew that we had to. We had no more money left. But we didn't care, while Warrnambool took our money we took memories. All the way home, I just kept reminiscing about the trip. I met some interesting people, Macca (the character), Kate (or Kay, ask Snapes!), The Inn-Keeper (nice guy), Ben (it was nothing personal) and then there was Kylie (the coolest and most generous person...Craig and her made a better couple than Ben). I knew that I would now be apart of the over-praising of Warrnambool club. But I wouldn't be over-praising it. Snapes had no idea what he was talking about. Warrnambool was a cool place, with cool people...it also has the coolest couple Craig and Kylie...good luck...so now you'd think whenever I would think of that smelly bedroom with that equally smelly Ben...but no I think of it as the time where Craig found true happiness and I found a true friend in Norman...I mean Criag...I had a great time, even though I ate 4 meals of the 12 standard meals...I had 14 hours sleep out of the 40 standard hours...but somehow I came home as energised as ever...but that's what Warrnambool does to you... : )

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