Profile for lbucket:
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Best answers to questions:
- a member for 17 years, 1 month and 17 days
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Recent front page messages:
Hitleroverload.com
Easiest way to scare friends and win(lose) arguments: send them this for a greeting card.
Bigger version here.
Edit: Never imagined this would make front page... Thanks!
(Mon 13th Jul 2009, 5:54, More)
Easiest way to scare friends and win(lose) arguments: send them this for a greeting card.
Bigger version here.
Edit: Never imagined this would make front page... Thanks!
(Mon 13th Jul 2009, 5:54, More)
Best answers to questions:
» Pathological Liars
The Tale of Mr. Brown
In high school, I had an orchestra teacher named Mr. Brown, a short, mousy fellow with no distinguishing features. Except for his outrageous lies.
Such as the time he left class early in order to dine on steak and lobster at the Peppermill Casino (I'm from Nevada) because the head chef personally invited him.
Or how he would often spend time in France teaching extremely wealthy French children how to play the viola, despite the fact that his French and viola skills were substandard.
Or when he was gone for a week because he was invited to play the viola for the Utah Olympics, and then hurt his back very badly from sliding down the luge. After this, he would often lie down on the floor and shriek.
He was fired after a year for being incompetent and psychotic.
The next year, we had a teacher named Mrs. Toti. One day, she arrived in the classroom with a serious look on her face.
"Hey, class, I have to tell you why Mr. Brown left."
The whole class stopped to listen to what we hoped would be an exciting story about our former teacher.
"Well, you all know that he had horrible back pain, but this summer something even worse happened to him. Apparently he was in France teaching a viola class, and one of his student's family invited him on a fox hunt."
Most of the class was stifling giggles by now.
"He was in the lead when he saw the fox, so he pulled out his rifle and tried to shoot it. He missed, fell off his horse, and injured his back. Isn't that horrible?"
The entire class burst into laughter. Mrs. Toti, outraged at our behavior, shouted "You guys, stop laughing! What happened to Mr. Brown isn't funny, he is in major pain, and you should all sign a get well card for him."
Of course, no card was signed.
(Fri 30th Nov 2007, 0:11, More)
The Tale of Mr. Brown
In high school, I had an orchestra teacher named Mr. Brown, a short, mousy fellow with no distinguishing features. Except for his outrageous lies.
Such as the time he left class early in order to dine on steak and lobster at the Peppermill Casino (I'm from Nevada) because the head chef personally invited him.
Or how he would often spend time in France teaching extremely wealthy French children how to play the viola, despite the fact that his French and viola skills were substandard.
Or when he was gone for a week because he was invited to play the viola for the Utah Olympics, and then hurt his back very badly from sliding down the luge. After this, he would often lie down on the floor and shriek.
He was fired after a year for being incompetent and psychotic.
The next year, we had a teacher named Mrs. Toti. One day, she arrived in the classroom with a serious look on her face.
"Hey, class, I have to tell you why Mr. Brown left."
The whole class stopped to listen to what we hoped would be an exciting story about our former teacher.
"Well, you all know that he had horrible back pain, but this summer something even worse happened to him. Apparently he was in France teaching a viola class, and one of his student's family invited him on a fox hunt."
Most of the class was stifling giggles by now.
"He was in the lead when he saw the fox, so he pulled out his rifle and tried to shoot it. He missed, fell off his horse, and injured his back. Isn't that horrible?"
The entire class burst into laughter. Mrs. Toti, outraged at our behavior, shouted "You guys, stop laughing! What happened to Mr. Brown isn't funny, he is in major pain, and you should all sign a get well card for him."
Of course, no card was signed.
(Fri 30th Nov 2007, 0:11, More)
» Buses
Bus Attacks
One day while getting on an extremely crowded bus to go to work, I noticed an empty standing space in the back. So, being sensible of course, I stood there. Sitting next to me was a tiny, thin old lady without any particular distinguishing features, so I pulled out a magazine and read for twenty or so minutes.
Suddenly, I felt a sharp death grip on my arm, like a metal sphygmomanometer with spikes had fastened itself on my arm. Naturally, I looked down, and who do I see but the old lady grabbing my arm and swearing like her spine had lodged itself up her bony ass. "FUCK YOU get the fuck out of my FUCKING way you FUCKbitchshit etc. etc." I was too shocked to think so I tried to pry her fingers off of my arm, but she had the unnatural Superman strength all old ladies somehow acquire after age 70, so I could neither move out of her way nor fight her off.
Luckily, she was getting off at the same stop I was so we somehow made it to the bus door, her screaming at everyone the entire way and calling them all sorts of name (including a scared-looking bodybuilder) where she finally let go of my arm. I sprinted to my workplace.
Sadly, that was only the second most disturbing/frightening thing that has ever happened to me on a bus. The first was a glorious vision of the pendulous orangutangy old-lady boooooobs (they were quite long, thus the extra 'o's) of an elderly woman wearing a see-through shirt.
(Thu 25th Jun 2009, 20:14, More)
Bus Attacks
One day while getting on an extremely crowded bus to go to work, I noticed an empty standing space in the back. So, being sensible of course, I stood there. Sitting next to me was a tiny, thin old lady without any particular distinguishing features, so I pulled out a magazine and read for twenty or so minutes.
Suddenly, I felt a sharp death grip on my arm, like a metal sphygmomanometer with spikes had fastened itself on my arm. Naturally, I looked down, and who do I see but the old lady grabbing my arm and swearing like her spine had lodged itself up her bony ass. "FUCK YOU get the fuck out of my FUCKING way you FUCKbitchshit etc. etc." I was too shocked to think so I tried to pry her fingers off of my arm, but she had the unnatural Superman strength all old ladies somehow acquire after age 70, so I could neither move out of her way nor fight her off.
Luckily, she was getting off at the same stop I was so we somehow made it to the bus door, her screaming at everyone the entire way and calling them all sorts of name (including a scared-looking bodybuilder) where she finally let go of my arm. I sprinted to my workplace.
Sadly, that was only the second most disturbing/frightening thing that has ever happened to me on a bus. The first was a glorious vision of the pendulous orangutangy old-lady boooooobs (they were quite long, thus the extra 'o's) of an elderly woman wearing a see-through shirt.
(Thu 25th Jun 2009, 20:14, More)