You Were So Scared You Peed Your Pants? I Puckered Up!

[Agincourt Concierge]

Oh, Siggy - You can come up with the topics.

Always have.

well for those that don't wish to get up to use the toilet .... there's always this alternative

 

[not_nadine]

pee , lemonade ,,, around the corner, chocolate is made.

So there then. Pffft.

 

[Dana Jean]

pee , lemonade ,,, around the corner, chocolate is made.

So there then. Pffft.

You can't keep posting a link to adult site.

 

[not_nadine]

Oh no... Say sorry.. Did I? I did not mean to. I am very sorry Dana.
It comes up on the puter,, I did not look at it.

I never go to adult sites. I must change settings, you have to real careful any word you type in.

Please tell me that was the first time I did that? Holy Hells. I tap my throat three times for you and the entire family of the SKMB. I have nothing but respect for you all.

TAK!

 

[Dana Jean]

Oh no... Say sorry.. Did I? I did not mean to. I am very sorry Dana.
It comes up on the puter,, I did not look at it.

I never go to adult sites. I must change settings, you have to real careful any word you type in.

Please tell me that was the first time I did that? Holy Hells. I tap my throat three times for you and the entire family of the SKMB. I have nothing but respect for you all.

TAK!

No worries. It happens to all of us although you did post it twice, . There will be updated guidelines along with the reason why we're doing it next week. It's just board policy.

 

[HollyGolightly]

well for those that don't wish to get up to use the toilet .... there's always this alternative

Oh God no! The dreaded catheter!

 

[no bounce no play]

I made the mistake of going canoeing with three friends who fancied themselves "expert" in that field. This would have been around 1994-ish. The river we went to was the Mulberry which is over in north central Arkansas, about 2 or 2.5 hours east of where I live. Anyway, at this point I had went canoeing approximately five times in my life, all of those times on a very peaceful river, the Elk river, up in Missouri. Had a great time on all of them. This time, and I still don't know how the classification of canoeing on rivers go, but it was in spring, we had a lot of rain, and the Mulberry was running at a class 4? Not sure if that means anything to veteran canoe-ist but one look at where we were putting into the river told me I had no business trying to canoe that particular river. It looked like a river you would see in in Colorado or Oregon, something like that. All I could see were white caps and debris floating by at a high rate of speed. The other three guys were hooping and hollering around like this was the best thing since sliced bread. The guys had given me some fast water canoeing pointers on the drive over but you know how sometimes you just get a bad feeling? Standing on the bank of that river and listening to my friends hoop and holler, I just shook my head and told myself to suck it up. You don't exactly "back out" of this type of thing when you're a guy..lol. Anyway, we had picked a canoe route that was supposed to take four hours, something like 12 miles. Did I mention that none of us wore life preservers??? Hell, we were all big strapping fellas, in our early 20's and all of us could swim like fish. We had life vests with us, but they were thrown in the canoe with our supplies, mostly beer and sandwiches. About an hour in to the trip, I had only dumped the canoe once, which I was happy about considering the conditions. I was in the front of the canoe while my buddy was in the rear steering and telling me what to do. We had a pretty good rhythm going on and all in all, were having a pretty good time. As we approached a very steep, narrow right bend in the river, my friend gave me instructions on how best to handle this turn, but my luck ran out. It seemed like our speed increased dramatically as the width of the river narrowed down into the turn and I realized we were not going to be able to turn hard enough to make the sweeping turn. At the last second before we slammed into the bank, I attempted to slam my oar into the bank, I don't really know why, just panic or I guess I thought maybe I could push us on around the turn. It didn't work. The speed we were travelling at combined with me slamming the oar as hard as I could into the bank caused the handle part of the oar to come right back at me. The handle of the oar hit me directly under the bridge of my nose. i heard, more that felt, my nose break. The pain came later..lol It happened so fast, I don't remember falling out of the canoe, but I sure as hell remember the canoe behind us hitting my left leg squarely as it rocketed past us. I also became very aware that my vision was blurred with water and blood. I think, at this point, I may have been in shock. I couldn't seem to think straight, the rushing water seemed as loud as an orchestra playing in my head. I then came to the realization that my legs were stuck in some type of vegetation underneath the water. The rushing water and debris had created a kind of a berm right in the apex of the turn and that is where I ended up. It reminded me of what being in a washing machine must feel like. At this point, rationality seemed to reassert itself and I distinctly remember thinking "At least I'm in the water so no one knows I just pissed all over myself." I untangled my feet from the debris and pulled myself up on top of the debris pile and onto the bank. I didn't remember to breathe until that moment. I can't remember ever being so cold even though it was very warm out that day. My nose was a mess and my left leg had a helluva gash in it from being hit by the front of the trailing canoe. I looked down river and my friends had literally thrown the canoes onto the bank, no easy feat in that kind of water, and were running back up thru the woods toward me. I remember my friend Tony was completely beside himself and the first thing he said to me? "Hey man, I grabbed your oar out of the water. It's in the canoe."..... I just stared at him, not comprehending anything he said. Tony then seemed to realize what he had said, looked at me and said "Man, your nose is all jacked up. I mean, you're ok, right?" I just kept shivering, then I started to laugh which is how I've always seemed to handle traumatic events, which is just weird, I know. Anyway, we walked to nearest camp site on the river, about a mile away, and used a payphone to call the canoe rental company to come pick us up. Their first response was that we weren't getting any money back just because we didn't complete the whole trip......didn't much care about that, but they did come pick us up. Their is an actual picture out there somewhere, my friend Matt had brought along one of those water proof disposable cameras and he snapped a picture of me at the camp site while we were waiting on the canoe trucks to show up. I was wearing a blue tee shirt, which was now completely red in the front. My nose is swollen very badly in the pic and obviously broken. For some reason, it never occurred to any of us, including me, to stop by a closer hospital, we drove all the way back to Fayetteville and then stopped by our local hospital. I relayed the events to the attending physician who, like all "been there, heard that" medical personnel, told me with a complete deadpan tone of voice, that perhaps I should find a new hobby.......that funny ba$&ard...

Ohmygosh... Ohmygosh... Ohmygosh... I just about pee'd myself reading that Did you ever go canoeing again?

 

[no bounce no play]

No worries. It happens to all of us although you did post it twice, . There will be updated guidelines along with the reason why we're doing it next week. It's just board policy.

lol... It happened to me last week too. An image I thought was harmless got deleted I keep forgetting some SK readers are very young.

 

[Tamou]

Too bad about the concussions... Which SK book were you reading at the time?

I can't even remember... the concussion probably didn't help

 

[Sigmund]

A vasectomy's not so bad. I have a pretty good vasectomy story, yes, in the first person, but it's off-topic.

Great stories, guys. I tend to forget (in the couple days I've been on board) that this is a literary-oriented forum, and stories might be welcomed rather than thinly tolerated. I'll try not to be so perfunctory next time around. Although "Perfunctory" is my midd

Hello and WELCOME!

Yes, we are literary-oriented and we (I) love to read stories. Ha!

We also tend to go off topic and share. It's all good. (You'll get used to it. We may start off discussing pesky mice and wander off discussing lice!) Yay!

I would very much like to hear about your "pretty good vasectomy" experience.

Peace.

 

[Sigmund]

I made the mistake of going canoeing with three friends who fancied themselves "expert" in that field. This would have been around 1994-ish. The river we went to was the Mulberry which is over in north central Arkansas, about 2 or 2.5 hours east of where I live. Anyway, at this point I had went canoeing approximately five times in my life, all of those times on a very peaceful river, the Elk river, up in Missouri. Had a great time on all of them. This time, and I still don't know how the classification of canoeing on rivers go, but it was in spring, we had a lot of rain, and the Mulberry was running at a class 4? Not sure if that means anything to veteran canoe-ist but one look at where we were putting into the river told me I had no business trying to canoe that particular river. It looked like a river you would see in in Colorado or Oregon, something like that. All I could see were white caps and debris floating by at a high rate of speed. The other three guys were hooping and hollering around like this was the best thing since sliced bread. The guys had given me some fast water canoeing pointers on the drive over but you know how sometimes you just get a bad feeling? Standing on the bank of that river and listening to my friends hoop and holler, I just shook my head and told myself to suck it up. You don't exactly "back out" of this type of thing when you're a guy..lol. Anyway, we had picked a canoe route that was supposed to take four hours, something like 12 miles. Did I mention that none of us wore life preservers??? Hell, we were all big strapping fellas, in our early 20's and all of us could swim like fish. We had life vests with us, but they were thrown in the canoe with our supplies, mostly beer and sandwiches. About an hour in to the trip, I had only dumped the canoe once, which I was happy about considering the conditions. I was in the front of the canoe while my buddy was in the rear steering and telling me what to do. We had a pretty good rhythm going on and all in all, were having a pretty good time. As we approached a very steep, narrow right bend in the river, my friend gave me instructions on how best to handle this turn, but my luck ran out. It seemed like our speed increased dramatically as the width of the river narrowed down into the turn and I realized we were not going to be able to turn hard enough to make the sweeping turn. At the last second before we slammed into the bank, I attempted to slam my oar into the bank, I don't really know why, just panic or I guess I thought maybe I could push us on around the turn. It didn't work. The speed we were travelling at combined with me slamming the oar as hard as I could into the bank caused the handle part of the oar to come right back at me. The handle of the oar hit me directly under the bridge of my nose. i heard, more that felt, my nose break. The pain came later..lol It happened so fast, I don't remember falling out of the canoe, but I sure as hell remember the canoe behind us hitting my left leg squarely as it rocketed past us. I also became very aware that my vision was blurred with water and blood. I think, at this point, I may have been in shock. I couldn't seem to think straight, the rushing water seemed as loud as an orchestra playing in my head. I then came to the realization that my legs were stuck in some type of vegetation underneath the water. The rushing water and debris had created a kind of a berm right in the apex of the turn and that is where I ended up. It reminded me of what being in a washing machine must feel like. At this point, rationality seemed to reassert itself and I distinctly remember thinking "At least I'm in the water so no one knows I just pissed all over myself." I untangled my feet from the debris and pulled myself up on top of the debris pile and onto the bank. I didn't remember to breathe until that moment. I can't remember ever being so cold even though it was very warm out that day. My nose was a mess and my left leg had a helluva gash in it from being hit by the front of the trailing canoe. I looked down river and my friends had literally thrown the canoes onto the bank, no easy feat in that kind of water, and were running back up thru the woods toward me. I remember my friend Tony was completely beside himself and the first thing he said to me? "Hey man, I grabbed your oar out of the water. It's in the canoe."..... I just stared at him, not comprehending anything he said. Tony then seemed to realize what he had said, looked at me and said "Man, your nose is all jacked up. I mean, you're ok, right?" I just kept shivering, then I started to laugh which is how I've always seemed to handle traumatic events, which is just weird, I know. Anyway, we walked to nearest camp site on the river, about a mile away, and used a payphone to call the canoe rental company to come pick us up. Their first response was that we weren't getting any money back just because we didn't complete the whole trip......didn't much care about that, but they did come pick us up. Their is an actual picture out there somewhere, my friend Matt had brought along one of those water proof disposable cameras and he snapped a picture of me at the camp site while we were waiting on the canoe trucks to show up. I was wearing a blue tee shirt, which was now completely red in the front. My nose is swollen very badly in the pic and obviously broken. For some reason, it never occurred to any of us, including me, to stop by a closer hospital, we drove all the way back to Fayetteville and then stopped by our local hospital. I relayed the events to the attending physician who, like all "been there, heard that" medical personnel, told me with a complete deadpan tone of voice, that perhaps I should find a new hobby.......that funny ba$&ard...

Excellent story! Thank you for sharing . ( Of course, you understand why I will never consider canoeing. Or even riding the *boat* ride at Six Flags water park. Ha! )

(Have mercy! I'm picking up more phobias as I read the thread.)

Peace.

 

[Grandpa]

Hello and WELCOME!I would very much like to hear about your "pretty good vasectomy" experience.

Peace.

Okay, I was invited, and now like Satan popping up in the pentagram, I can say, "Well, you asked for it."

This is a true story. I am so not kidding.

Back in the early '80s, we'd decided we'd had enough kids, and being a fair-minded, egalitarian type, or maybe I wanted to be and had to prove it, I volunteered to get a clip job, and I don't mean at the local Cost Cutters.

We made an appointment at the local urologist, whose name I won't mention, because it's funny enough that you'll not pay attention to the rest of the story. He gave us the low-down, so to speak, and we were amenable.

He took me into an examination room and had me drop the drawers, lie back on the table thingy, and stare at a picture of a waterfall taped to the ceiling. I guess it was supposed to be soothing. I just thought it was kinda too small to see anything.

He brought a tray of the sharp and pointy things around. I had some trepidation going, like who wouldn't, but I was committed. He took out a syringe, which I correctly assumed was the local anesthetic.

"Hold still," he said, and I felt the sting of a needle in my scrotum. (It's tempting to say I felt a prick, but I'm not trying to go for cheap laughs here, all right?) It wasn't so bad. Not nearly so much, say, as getting a major zipper snarl in the same area.

Here's where it gets interesting.

"You must've been a Marine," he said.

I remained still, but I was stunned. How did he know? Did being in the Marines make them bigger? Or somehow unique, like steel or brass or something? Did they give me a secret tattoo? Did I get a tattoo there when I was drunk? Who would give me a tattoo there anyway? And if so, did I shake his hand? How the hell could this guy look at my genitals and tell that I was in the Marines????

"As a matter of fact, Doc, yes, I was. But may I ask why you said that?" I'm sure my voice was strained with wonderment.

He replied, "I was in the Army, and I worked on guys from different branches. You always tell them to hold still when you give them a shot. The Marines were the only ones who ever did."


True story. I swear.

 

[Sigmund]

This week has been scary for me but I do not reach that point, really. Use to breaking up fights between street people gives one an edge.

Dear Staro,

I am just catching up with the MB.

Prayers, thoughts and well wishes to you and Ms. Becky.

Please stay vigilant and safe.

Peace.

 

[Sigmund]

If the plane I'm flying is hits turbulence, I freak out! The last time it happened, I was on my way back from Toronto (visiting Anni and seeing Rush together). I had the bulkhead row all to myself, so I curled up in the seats, cranked up Clockwork Angels and held on for dear life.

Hi Ms. Tery!

I have only been on a plane twice. Scared outta my pants and we didn't have any turbulence!

I cannot even imagine!

(BTW-I'll look up Clockwork Angels and have a listen. Thanks!)

Peace.

 

[Sigmund]

Cool and scary stories guys. I have one that I keep trying to share, but it scares me too badly, seriously. When I'm scared though, I get that loose feeling in my stomach.

Hi Sweetness!

I was talking to John about this thread and he said, and I quote:

"Momma, you are always anxious and puckered. It's a miracle you can actually drop a load."

ROTFLMAO!

Peace.

 

[HollyGolightly]

Hi Sweetness!

I was talking to John about this thread and he said, and I quote:

"Momma, you are always anxious and puckered. It's a miracle you can actually drop a load."

ROTFLMAO!

Peace.

LOL - That's stinkin' funny Sig!.

 

[Tery]

Hi Ms. Tery!

I have only been on a plane twice. Scared outta my pants and we didn't have any turbulence!

I cannot even imagine!

(BTW-I'll look up Clockwork Angels and have a listen. Thanks!)

Peace.

I think you'll like it.

When I was younger I actually liked to fly. My Grandfather was an airplane mechanic and I knew all about planes. But I was flying back from Tulsa, OK through Denver and it was AWFUL! Put me off flying for years. I've only just been able to do so without knocking my azz out... though I do need a couple of Xanax, still. Stupid Denver!

 

[Agincourt Concierge]

Okay, I was invited, and now like Satan popping up in the pentagram, I can say, "Well, you asked for it."

This is a true story. I am so not kidding.

Back in the early '80s, we'd decided we'd had enough kids, and being a fair-minded, egalitarian type, or maybe I wanted to be and had to prove it, I volunteered to get a clip job, and I don't mean at the local Cost Cutters.

We made an appointment at the local urologist, whose name I won't mention, because it's funny enough that you'll not pay attention to the rest of the story. He gave us the low-down, so to speak, and we were amenable.

He took me into an examination room and had me drop the drawers, lie back on the table thingy, and stare at a picture of a waterfall taped to the ceiling. I guess it was supposed to be soothing. I just thought it was kinda too small to see anything.

He brought a tray of the sharp and pointy things around. I had some trepidation going, like who wouldn't, but I was committed. He took out a syringe, which I correctly assumed was the local anesthetic.

"Hold still," he said, and I felt the sting of a needle in my scrotum. (It's tempting to say I felt a prick, but I'm not trying to go for cheap laughs here, all right?) It wasn't so bad. Not nearly so much, say, as getting a major zipper snarl in the same area.

Here's where it gets interesting.

"You must've been a Marine," he said.

I remained still, but I was stunned. How did he know? Did being in the Marines make them bigger? Or somehow unique, like steel or brass or something? Did they give me a secret tattoo? Did I get a tattoo there when I was drunk? Who would give me a tattoo there anyway? And if so, did I shake his hand? How the hell could this guy look at my genitals and tell that I was in the Marines????

"As a matter of fact, Doc, yes, I was. But may I ask why you said that?" I'm sure my voice was strained with wonderment.

He replied, "I was in the Army, and I worked on guys from different branches. You always tell them to hold still when you give them a shot. The Marines were the only ones who ever did."


True story. I swear.

Dude ... you ought to write books ... that story as hilarious ....

 

[Neesy]

Okay, I was invited, and now like Satan popping up in the pentagram, I can say, "Well, you asked for it."

This is a true story. I am so not kidding.

Back in the early '80s, we'd decided we'd had enough kids, and being a fair-minded, egalitarian type, or maybe I wanted to be and had to prove it, I volunteered to get a clip job, and I don't mean at the local Cost Cutters.

We made an appointment at the local urologist, whose name I won't mention, because it's funny enough that you'll not pay attention to the rest of the story. He gave us the low-down, so to speak, and we were amenable.

He took me into an examination room and had me drop the drawers, lie back on the table thingy, and stare at a picture of a waterfall taped to the ceiling. I guess it was supposed to be soothing. I just thought it was kinda too small to see anything.

He brought a tray of the sharp and pointy things around. I had some trepidation going, like who wouldn't, but I was committed. He took out a syringe, which I correctly assumed was the local anesthetic.

"Hold still," he said, and I felt the sting of a needle in my scrotum. (It's tempting to say I felt a prick, but I'm not trying to go for cheap laughs here, all right?) It wasn't so bad. Not nearly so much, say, as getting a major zipper snarl in the same area.

Here's where it gets interesting.

"You must've been a Marine," he said.

I remained still, but I was stunned. How did he know? Did being in the Marines make them bigger? Or somehow unique, like steel or brass or something? Did they give me a secret tattoo? Did I get a tattoo there when I was drunk? Who would give me a tattoo there anyway? And if so, did I shake his hand? How the hell could this guy look at my genitals and tell that I was in the Marines????

"As a matter of fact, Doc, yes, I was. But may I ask why you said that?" I'm sure my voice was strained with wonderment.

He replied, "I was in the Army, and I worked on guys from different branches. You always tell them to hold still when you give them a shot. The Marines were the only ones who ever did."


True story. I swear.

Much better story than I expected. I thought it would something about how you woke up the next day, forgot about the stitches and proceeded to scratch um 'the family jewels' thereby busting a stitch!

 

[Grandpa]

I think you'll like it.

When I was younger I actually liked to fly. My Grandfather was an airplane mechanic and I knew all about planes. But I was flying back from Tulsa, OK through Denver and it was AWFUL! Put me off flying for years. I've only just been able to do so without knocking my azz out... though I do need a couple of Xanax, still. Stupid Denver!

Wyoming would be worse. Very windy state. However, there's not enough people to support any kind of major airport there. (Wyoming people say it's so windy there because Colorado blows and Nebraska sucks.)

If I had an experience that would put me off flying, it would've been coming into Kansas City one night in a thunderstorm. The cabins lights were off, but now and then a lightning bolt would light up everything. The plane bounced and jolted through the turbulence and air pockets. No one in the cabin was talking, and you didn't need to be a mind reader to know that a lot of praying was going on.

I now fly two or three times a year. It once was eight or ten. I've had my share of soothing terrified fellow passengers. I don't talk to them about safety records. I talk about the air being the ocean, sometimes smooth and somethings bouncy, but the airplane is a boat, and it's going to stay afloat. And about ground effect, how the air tends to smooth out close to the ground. Sometimes I get them to feel better.