Your best Story
 

Tell us your best story. Your best day, the wildest thing you've seen, an event in your life.

I'm looking for the story that defines your life, the one you'd tell your grandkids around a campfire, the one you and your old friends re-tell half a box of beer into a night.

Tell us about the time you saw your dad kill a bear with his case knife, the day you won the lottery, the turd that was born with your child, the day your grandpa took you fishing.....good, bad, ugly. Your best story.

The only rule, it has to be true to the best of your memory. Go.

The day my son was born.

It's not exciting, but he defined my life and is the best thing to happen to me.

I can't even...

My life is a series of hilarious life altering fun disasters.

It would be easier for you to pick a subject.

Yeah...I've got my most embarrassing story.....my best oh shit story....my best "Dicky....you're an idiot" story.

How about the time you were a dominatrix for Michael Phelps

It didn't define my life, but one of my best days was when I went to see a short play I had written get produced in Pittsburgh. I sat in the back and watched the audience more than the play, because I get very stressed out when I see something I wrote produced - and I saw a couple of people wiping tears from their eyes because they were laughing so hard. And people in the audience were laughing out loud like a laugh track.
Usually at a play when people laugh it's like a, "Ho, ho. That was clever," little theatre laugh.
It was like the best drug to see there and hear it and see. Like the highest high I've ever had.

Its gonna take me some time to figure out which ones to tell.

If anyone hasn't already heard about my overnight drive halfway across India, let me know. I've told it a few times over the years.

That sounds interesting, The Darjeeling Rainman.

One off the top of my head:

I was at Boy Scout camp one year and we were having some problems with the raccoons. My buddies and I were on the edge of camp and at night they would creep into our tents and try to steal food. Finally we decided to strike back.

We loaded a bread bag full of leftover food from the mess hall and smuggled it back to our camp. We set up a snare by bending over a sturdy but pliable tree and placed the food in the middle. We then ran a line back to one of our tents from which we could spring the trap. Once it was all set we waited. It took a while because the only way we could see it was to shine a flashlight on the snare occasionally to see if the raccoons were there, so needless to say we were scaring them off. We finally figured out that if we planted a red light by the snare, it wouldn't frighten them and we could see pretty well.

After a lot of waiting and nearly losing interest. We finally saw a raccoon emerge and, after a little hesitation, go to town on the bag of food scraps. We yanked the line hard.

I don't know what we thought we were going to do once we caught this thing. We certainly were not equipped to hold it and if the leaders found out we would have been in huge trouble. Frightening it off for good, I suppose, would have been the stated goal, but there obviously wasn't much rational thought put into it. Drunk on vengeance and curiosity, I suppose.

Anyway, we didn't end up having to answer any of these questions because our little plan worked a little too well. The snare caught the raccoon by the foot and threw it off into the forest.


(Dramatization)

We were stunned silent. After a moment there were cheers from some who never could have imagined something so cool. There was also some remorse, from those who didn't really want to hurt the thing. I was more in the latter camp, but I couldn't deny how hilarious it all was. We had no problems with raccoons the rest of the session.

Lost my virginity to a 16 yr old cheerleader in the bed of a semi truck full of mattresses for the resort we were staying at while in Orlando Florida.

"Gunga galunga... gunga, gunga-lagunga"

Oh my! There are so many, but most are a "You had to be there" to really appreciate.

Off the top of my head right now:

The day a part of the British Navy came to see me in Boston.
(HMS Intrepid, actually coming up the coast from Bermuda)

The day I was dared to jump off a bridge for increased business from an account I had lunch with that afternoon. I jumped off course.

The day I was a Laundromat Vigilante and was nearly arrested.

This 2x over

Almost lost my hand while driving through a car wash one time. That was weird.

Way to many to pull a 'best'. I've had a wild life. Many are best kept to myself.

Got a blowjob in a car wash once, and that was not weird

I took a shit on the E train around 2am coming home from work one night when I was 17.

I simply just couldn't hold it. It was an empty car, but it was stuck between stations. I had a box cutter on me from work so I cut my boxers in half, unleashed liquid diarrhea in the corner, wiped my ass and moved to the next car.

Billay or Discuss Thrower (sorry, can't tell those losers apart) got one in a porta potty not too long ago.

I'd rather go without in that case.

Semi wild here—a brush with the sex-slave trade in France, dealing with the Egyptian carpet black market, incident with some camels, a horse and a donkey in the Sahara desert.

Oh and that time in Tibet....

Did I ever tell you about the worst one I ever had?

It was great

If it has to be the one that defines me—it would have to be being born in a drain pipe and found by prostitutes who raised me in a brothel.

Yeah, that's the one.

Do tell.

That's a joke son. A real flag waver.

Well it was the summer of 1978 and I was an altar boy at our small catholic church......

:doh!:

Whoosh. You make a solid argument.

Went to a pre-law weekend as a sophomore in HS, at of all places Washburn Univ. Mom dropped me off, and we settled in.

Turns out there was also a cheerleader camp going on that weekend, and we were dormed with them.

Not a wink of sleep the entire weekend, and ironically the nice thing was it wasn't all 'bow chicka bow wow.' Snuggle and watch TV, talk about respective HSs, run for snacks, a few pranks, then the making out and the retiring to discreet locations.

Very nice experience for a mid-teen. I recommend it highly.

Nothing world-shaking, just an unexpected treat in the middle of Kansas. My own little John Hughes movie.

Don't tell me what the story is about.....tell it. Details damn it, was it cold? Did it hurt?

You guys suck at stories. :harumph:

My first date with Mr. Smitty consisted of going out in the boonies on his Yamaha 360. We had a lot of wooded areas around and many a day I and whatever friends were around would go tramping through them, mushroom hunting sometimes but usually just exploring. One beautiful day my best friend Punkin and I were on the Flenthrope property when we heard a motorcycle and here comes Kipp. He had tracked us using my shoe prints. :shake: Anyway he asked if I wanted to go for a ride and I said sure!. We drove all over that property that day but the highlight of the ride was when we were going up a fairly steep hill. Kipp drops a gear and revs up the engine and suddenly we are at a 90 degree angle with the earth. I could feel just how close we were to going over backwards! We made it to the top and kept on going. That had to have been the most exhilarating experience of my life at the time. We spent the rest of the summer on that dirt bike cruising back roads, woods, creeks, wherever we could get in. The oil pump quit and seized the motor on us one day out in the country. We grabbed a big rock from the side of the road and beat on the kick starter until we got it broke loose and the bike started. After that we had to mix the oil directly in with the gas ‘til we rebuilt it. It was quite the courtship.

Fast forward 5 years or so…We are riding the 360 around town when Kipp turns up the alley to go to his folks house. His dad and brother are in the backyard doing something and when I saw them I KNEW a wheelie was forthcoming, I told Kipp “don’t pop a wheelie, I don’t have on the right shoes”. Did he listen??? Noooooo not Kipp, he dropped a gear gassed it and up we went! Of course my feet just slid right off the foot pegs and I’m running behind the bike with my arms still around his waist thinking ok, I can hop back on, THEN he shifted gears and pulled my arms loose. I did a tuck and roll, he threw down the bike, Dad and Leland came running to see if I was alright. I said to Kipp “I told you not to pop a wheelie” and went in the house. I was fine, had a little gravel in my elbow but nothing else. Dad Smith told me later that was when he knew I was the girl for Kipp.

^this is a good one^
c'mon you a-holes, it's Friday afternoon. entertain!
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She rode a dirt bike. Wow!!

Someone's hitting on the girl.

and I tipped my Honda 350 over w/my future wife on the back on july 4th 1980. she says that was the day our twins were conceived so I figure it was caused by falling off the bike, cause I only tagged her once that day.
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ah blow it out your ass bl...you've got some purty words. give us a story.
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I mean besides band camp.
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AND....we lived happily ever after. :p

pre-law camp, . . . with cheerleaders, in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do and no supervision. especially when it's out of the blue.

Plus, I'm watching KU actually play well.

:clap:gotcha
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My first date with Mrs. eDave consisted of going out in the boonies on my Yamaha 360. Fun times were had.

Fast forward 5 years or so…We are riding the 360 around town when I decided to drop by my folks house. My dad and brother were in the backyard doing something and when I saw them I KNEW I had to pop a wheelie. Mrs. eDave is in my ear with some shit like “don’t pop a wheelie; I don’t have on the right shoes”. I’m like whatever, you know what I do.

So I dropped a gear, gassed it and up we went! Should have listened to Mrs. eDave! Her feet just slid right off the foot pegs and she was running behind the bike with her arms still around my waist. I think she was trying to hop back on but just as she did I shift gears and she was gone.

Looking back, I saw that she performed a beautiful tuck and roll. I freaked and just threw down the bike. My dad and my brother were running to see if she was alright. When I got there, she looked at me and said, and I quote, “I told you not to pop a wheelie” and she went in the house.

Thankfully, she was fine. Had a little gravel in her elbow but nothing else. My dad told her later that was when he knew she was the girl for me.

And he was right!

ROFL Sounds familiar.

The tough part is coming up with stories I haven't already told here.

Toyed with retelling the time I was out shopping when fecal urgency hit hard and the ONLY toilet was already full of prior leavings. Had to hover as the mound ended up above the rim. Tried flushing halfway through and it just overflowed the toilet. Walked out with the soles of my shoes squishing and blended into the crowd.

If they're gonna leave me high and not so dry like that, eff 'em. Let them find out for themselves.

Similar to hanging with my cousins down in Louisiana. Real backwoods good ol' boys. Take the ATVs out with the rifles and shoot shit off logs, jump creeks, etc.

Morning started off much like yours. Grandma made her famous biscuits and I had one in my hand with the butter and sorghum dripping. All ready to enjoy. Hop on the back of the ATV and my cousin decided to goose the throttle. Popped a wheelie, my head flew back and I threw my biscuit about 20 feet.

I miss that biscuit.

Perhaps the funniest thing I ever saw was at Scout camp many years ago. My friend Gary Coon was always sneaking off to explore or find some mischief to partake in. He did like getting the leaders in a tizzy. One afternoon, one of the assistant scout masters called all of us to line up. Everyone but Gary came and got lined up. "Has anyone seen Gary?" he asked. A bunch of shrugs and nos were his answers. Then there was a sound in the latrine just down the hill of someone bumping into a wall. "Gary!" the assistant yelled. "Get on up here." No reply. "Gary!" he repeated. Nothing. Then he got mad and yelled, "COON! Get out of that latrine NOW!"

Then this black kid from another troop walks out and yells at the assistant, "FUGGGG YOU!" We all died laughing and the leader couldn't complete a sentence. "No, I uh, no I meant, uh no no." The poor kid stomped off thinking he'd been racially slurred. When Gary did return, he caught hell and was sentenced to KP duty for the rest of camp!

roofies

Oseola?

Too many to count but off the top of my head the most epic would have to be my 7th grade weekend at my Aunt and Uncles. We went to the movies and while walking through the mall their was a few survey chicks asking questions. My uncle took one look at them and said "Oh no not those ****ers." Of course a minute later one of them tries to get his attention, she said "Sir would you....." before she could finish her sentence he walked right past her and said "I'm deaf" (while pointing at his ear) ROFL To this day we all talk about that classic.

No, it was in central Missouri... what was that place called... arrgh.

Ah now it came to me. Camp Bartle.

This one time my friend was going to get married so we decided to go to Vegas for the Bachelor party. Turns out we got drugged, lost the groom, stole Mike Tysons Tiger, married a stripper, hung out with a baby, and almost got killed by an Asian guy. Finally found the groom on the roof of the Hotel.

Whew what a weekend...:D

Osceola was the scene of perhaps the biggest brain fart of my life.

Could've killed me, and probably no one on Earth but me knows.

One of the merit badges was marksmanship. Now I don't come from a gun family, but I was a pretty good shot. The one concession I had to figure out was that I was left handed, but can't close just my right eye, so early on I couldn't use the sites. I fashioned an eye patch and soon had some of the best marks in the camp.

Then one day I pull the trigger and nothing happens. Pull it again, nothing.

In a brainfart of monumental proportions, I open the breech and look at the bullet. There I am, my peepers inches away from an unspent round.

Seeing nothing I re-engage the breech and the bullet immediately fires off into the target of the next shooter over.

Hey, I was 12.

:facepalm:

Ah. Assuming that's H.Roe, didn't know he was part of another summer camp outside of Oseola. He was big into scouting though.

Darwin Consolation prize.

H.Roe Bartle IS in Osceola.

Trivia, I was inducted into Mic-O-Say with Little Least Lone Star. Those who've gone will know the import of that tribal name.

Little Distant Circling Hawk.

He probably thought you were asking about a 'Camp Osceola' unaware that that was actually the name of the nearby town.

Osceola is the only Bartle reservation I know of.

I went one summer to Osceola...Remember the swimming test? You didn't want to be the one in my troop who didn't pass..

I should also clarify, when I say inducted with. I don't mean camp-wide. In my little cadre of buddies from my troop. Little Lone Star was my troop master.

Oh yeah, swimming has always been my boondoggle. My parents tried to give us lessons as little kids and they couldn't even get us to float.

Another story.

Went to a friend from church's house for dinner. He lived on a farm with a pond. Went went swimming in it and it was near freezing. It was about 100 yards across. I fully intended to just wade around and splash my arms, when suddenly there was nothing under me. Flailing around I couldn't tell what was the nearest shore. Ended up improvising a doggy paddle all the way across that sumbitch. Falling onto the shore and puking my guts up Scared the shit out of my friend.

Guess I got my 'throw them into the deep end' moment in my mid-teens. Still not a great swimmer, but can manage to get to whatever shallows I need to.

I still have a big scar on my knee from the bottom of that pool at scout camp. I also have a scar from accidentally wood carving my finger.

Second hand account of a submarine story.

So, on a sub if you want to go to the bathroom (the Head) you would go into a stall and the toilets would basically have a ball valve that you would have to open and shut. Do your business, fill it with water, open the ball valve and it would then move your poo to the San Tanks (sanitary tanks).

Under way you have to flush the sanitary tanks to sea. Since you are under water you have to use air pressure to over come the pressure of the sea to dump the san tanks. If the a-gangers are doing their job they are supposed to tag out the stalls with a big red tag that says they are out of commission due to the sanitary flush.

They forgot to do that.

So Ricky recruit noob seaman ( not me ) decides he needs to go take a dump. He was at least trained on the toilets so he knew to fill it with water. Unfortunately this was right during the san tank flush and the tanks were pressurized with air. He then doing as he remembered cracks the ball valve and ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE. He is screaming his head off as pressurized poo and every foul thing in the sanitation tanks shoots up his ass, up from his legs and into his mouth and from what the corpman said he was even having to get it out from under his eyelids.

So always remember to do your job or you or someone else will be in a world of shit.

First try, I scrapped my big toe on the bottom and lost a hunk. Could not finish.

I always wood carved the nose off the Indian... :(

Wonder if I can still weave a lanyard.

Still have one of my proudest carving items from camp. That's a ball and socket carved into wood. That is, there is a ball carved inside the top of the cross around which the cross can swivel freely. Sorry for the lack of focus. I think my old Z760 is losing it's mojo and I don't feel like pulling out the 40D.

Edit: OK, twist my arm

The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

I was up for King Peewee my first year. That was a good loss.

I got one while driving back to college once. It turns out I don't drive so well while climaxing. That car was bucking up the hill and I finally had to pull over and regroup.

We had King Peewee 3 years running. Kid couldn't have been 55 pounds.

I'm guessing your troop master was your dad?

My name is unique as it is so short. When my big bro selected Distant Circling Hawk, there was some fanfare about it being just 3 words, which was rare at the time. It's a great name.

No.

I don't want to get into specific names, but the name of one of the camps is Lone Star, after King Lone Star H.Roe Bartle. 'Little' is appended for sons of inductees and 'Little Least' for grandsons.

:lightbulb:

That's really cool. My son didn't do Boy Scouts. So the lineage is broken.

We also had three other Chieftains [beside Little Lone Star] who were troop leaders.

Needless to say Mic-O-Say, and camp in general, was important to our troop. Downside was there was plenty of monitoring that we respected Mic-O-Say grounds and rules.

Really a great experience overall. Campouts EVERY month, without fail. Half of the winter campouts would be outside winter camping [fun, but freaking cold]. The other half would be some kind of indoor camp away. Twice we went to the SAC base in Nebraska for a weekend. We probably averaged 100-125 scouts and 20 or so leaders throughout my time there.

re: respecting the rules, during my Brave induction, during the silent work period, I was raking a trail when I came across a 6 foot brown snake. Again, stupid me, I stood there trying to figure out how to indicate alarm without breaking oath [recall, this is the period where you can't even use hand signals, let alone talk]. Luckily it slithered away after a moment.

But I had a good 3-4 seconds [seemed like eternity] staring at a brown snake longer than I was tall with no defense but my rake.

Another year, one of the Chieftains beheaded a 4 foot copperhead that wandered into camp and tanned a headband out of the skin for ceremonies.

On a warm Saturday morning in June the summer I graduated High School, my dad asked me to come down to the barns and help pull a calf from a heifer. Our barn lot consisted of a metal building with a horse shoe shaped opening between 2 other barns. In the middle of the opening a wooden post was in the ground that we used to tie cows to so we could medicate them, or pull calves using either a chain or a calf jack.

That morning, Dad, Mom and I tied the heifer to the pole with a rope dallied(wrapped over itself). We successfully delivered the calf and stepped back. Dad began to undo the rope to allow the cow to lick, bond and nurse it's new calf. As the cow gets a few feet of rope, the look in her eye changes. She takes an aggressive posture and lunges onto the calf, stamping it wildly. At the time, money was tight for us and every calf mattered. Dad began to pull the rope to get the cow from the calf, but the cow pulling against the knot stopped it. Before I could blink, I see my mom rush to the calf, grab it's back leg and begin to pull it away. As she does, the cow lunges at her, her boot slips in the slippery matting of crushed hay and mud. Standing 10' away, I see her try to get up as the cow kicks her with it's front feet. I see another blow hit her in the leg, hear and see it snap and turn leg backwards above the knee and as I'm rushing the cow see it kick her in the head and see blood spatter.

Time stopped. I could hear nothing, and in my mind I can only think that she's been killed. I see dad fighting the rope as there isn't enough to get the cow off of mom and with the pressure he cannot get it cut free. I grab the cow by the head as he cuts the rope. I think I was going to try to throw it off of her, fight it, bite it, whatever I could do to get the beast off of her. The rope lets loose as I grab the cow by the head and I feel myself in the air. She runs towards the steel barn, lowers her head and does her best to drive my body through it. I find myself on the ground with an angry cow in my face furiously stomping at my head and torso. I can tell I'm being kicked but I can't feel it, I can't hear it, I just get occasional glimpses of my mother on the ground.

Dad charges the melee, and the cow jumps back, raises her head and strolls out into the lot.

I'm flat on my back in the mud. The world is cloudy and I can only hear 2 sounds. My heart beat pounding in my ears, and my mom saying my name. I can't draw in any breath as it's been stomped completely out of me. I roll over and get to my feet and go to her. My dad is stooped over her wiping blood from her eyes and I can see her mangled leg as her body is pressed a few inches into the earth. She isn't answering questions about her injuries, she's only concerned with me. I look down and see my shirt is ripped and a 12-14" cut across my torso and welts of hoof prints on my chest and gut.

The ambulance comes, she and dad go. I local sheriff stay to help me put gates back up, and call for someone to come watch my sister and then driving me to the hospital. In the waiting room after a couple of hours(doctor wouldn't come from golf course for an hour)....I hear a ruckus. Momowanian is mad and won't go to the larger hospital until she knows of my exam and status.

She ends up with stitches, some surgeries and 10 days in the hospital. I spend a night and check myself out the next morning, with a dressed torso wound, mush lump on my aching head and some hoof print bruises on my front and somehow on my back.

I learned 2 very valuable lessons that day.
1. Momowanian is tougher than boiled owl shit. She never made a peep as she lay there so broken, other than to show concern for me. Very, very humbling experience.
2. I learned to stop being a teenage asshole. Any disrespect I'd ever had for my parents stopped in that 30 seconds.

My folks changed that day. They relaxed and in truth acted more like happy people after that. I think we all understood how close that came to a less happy ending.

Mine have already been written and posted in detail in other threads somewhere on this MB. Didn't feel like typin' it again.

The day me and my band played our first gig, a shitty rundown bar in Daytona, felt like I had finally had some purpose in my life something that had been lacking since my teenage years.

like the time you made love to Jameis Winston?

Some what similar to Baby Lees' story.

Summer of '84, I was stationed at Fort Sam outside San Anton, TX for Army Medic training. This was between my freshman/jr yr of college. I had taken Army Basic the summer before. Thus I arrived a college student amidst trainees just out of basic. Keep in mind that half the company were females. Females...just out of basic.

So, the first weekend of leave, I found out fast. I knew what I was going to do (not if). It was all a matter of with whom. I didn't do the asking. Goodness gracious.

As I was processing in, I noticed a tall (I am 5'8") dirty blonde helping with the paper work. She was, ummm, interesting. Not drop dead gorgeous, though quite attractive in her own way. An 8. I remember thinking that I would like to bang her. Most the time I think that, it doesn't happen. This wasn't "most of the time". Keep in mind,female<-basic.
Remember this is army medic training. So of course my line to her on the first week of leave, I happen to be visiting with her on the front steps of the mess hall was "How about we go study anatomy tonight at the ABC motel"? Of course, since my mastery of the English language, my wit and my natural good looks, I knew I was a shoe in. She didn't bat an eye.

The next day, I awoke thinking that maybe my nose was broken. It was sore. Then I remember that pelvic bones are very hard.

There were many others that would approach me and I got to choose. In the end I started feeling like a slut. They would start coming to my barracks and ask if I was there. I was scared that I would "catch" something, to which I did.

Mono sucks. I would be in class using my fingers to hold my eye lids open and my eye balls would still roll back. Superduper tried all the time. They put me in the hospital. I was suppose to stay there for a week in quarantine. If that happened, I would miss too many classes and I would have to be "recycled". If that occurred, a 2 week delay, I would miss getting back to college for the next semester. If I didn't complete the training, my timeline into ROTC would be screwed as well.

In the end it worked out. After 2 days, they let me go as long as I promised not to kiss/share utensils/no bodily fluid exchange with anyone.

This all paved the way for my college degree/Army career and ultimately my current job.

Bottom line: that summer was a wet dream come true:)

Much cooler story

And if he went to a full service wash, they clean up the spooge with the power vac not 5 minutes later!!

Up until 18 months ago, Bob Dole pooped every morning between 6:20 and 6:40.

When you stated your name, I was wondering about this. I am Least Crying Crow. My son is Little Least Crying Crow. You have a bunch of heritage. Is it safe to say, from your name that you are the GGson of Bartle? My son didn't want to be Little Least. He didn't realize the importance.

I was on H. Roe camp staff '78 and '79...Saw Mill Pool Staff. I came out as a Keeper. Lots of camp stories, peeing from the water tower, swimming in the water tower, fu fu bow and arrow fights, riding trees at the rifle range (like the coon story but you held on) etc.

My son is going to be on Camp Geigers' Pool Staff this summer. It is the sister Mic-O-Say camp in St Joe.

Ha ha. I remember that. NO WAY I could ever do that now. I talk all the freaking time. Shit, I was 'this' close to screwing it up during the final ceremony. Dude was ALL up in my face trying to break me.

Thanks for the memories Baby Lee. Troop 288 here. Long ass time ago.