So my trainer’s bf cheated on her. She broke up with him. He’s holding her stuff hostage until she agrees to talk with him. Which she refuses.
She trains; for free mind you; three college linebackers, a college wrestler, two martial artists, a body builder, and… wait for it…. a Navy seal. We’re gonna go get her shit for her.
This should make for an interesting story.
So everyone who commented on this being like the avengers, you are absolutely right. That’s what all of us had in our heads as we were rolling over to dude’s house. But I’m very proud to say, this ended without violence.
Arrival:
So the super friends all jumped into one of the linebacker’s explorer and headed over to dude’s house. Ok the squad: you all know me, but the other martial artist is a little wirey hapkido guy, the linebackers are all giants (an estimated combined weight of I’d say 750-800lbs), the wrestler looks like an escaped gorilla, then the navy seal looks like your average guy but something about him is unsettling. Really unsettling. Unfortunately, the body builder had to work. Anyway, we send the Hapkido guy and the wrestler to the door first and dude answers, screams at them, and then slams the door in their face. Then the giant linebackers head over and they ring the door bell again. Lo and behold, he was much more polite, but still denied access. Finally, me and the seal join the fray. I casually make my way towards the front of the group, but the seal decides to CLIMB THE BANISTER. We all just turned and started at him completely shocked when dude answers the door. He looks at this weird mismatched group of relatively threatening individuals and one guy perched on his banister like batman. He was like “FINE. Go take what you’re looking for.”
Retrieval:
So we’re all walking through the house gathering what we think are her things and putting them into two boxes. Mind you. We are completely guessing. We didn’t even tell her we were coming, therefore we had no list of items.The only one really being productive was Hapkido, who was legitimately looking for stuff. The linebackers were just randomly picking up furniture, turning it over, and putting it back down. Just showing off how strong they were. In case the numbers game wasn’t enough, I guess they were letting him know they could break him if they wanted to. The seal was just shadowing dude in his own house. Walking behind him, not saying much, just being creepy. Then there’s me. Who was causing general mischief…. He said to take what I was looking for, that’s what I was looking for. Ahaha and the wrestler made a fricken sandwich. Because “you guys look like you have it under control, and I’m a sucker for egg salad.” We were in and out in 15 minutes.
Delivery:
So the autobots rolled out and headed towards homegirl’s spot. She was conveniently outside when we rolled up. We got out and she was like, how do you all even know each other. The truth is, we don’t. She sent us all an email once and didn’t blind copy us all. She vented to all of us about dude holding onto her stuff and we started emailing and that was that. We told her that we went to see her ex. “OMG what did you say to him?” Nothing. We’re not messenger boys. We’re delivery boys. And we gave her her boxes of stuff. She went through the first box and said that was most of her stuff. Then she got to my box and asked “Wtf is all that shit.” So I explained that I took all the batteries out of his remote controls, his deodorant, the light bulb out of his master closet, every pair of dress socks that I could find, the laces out of his running shoes, and all the toilet paper in the house. The guys just looked at me and kind of nodded like they were impressed. She then unexpectedly started CRYING and thanked us. So you have this group of meat heads all standing awkwardly with this weeping trainer. It was quiet for a second when the seal was like “So…. chipoltle?” And we all got burrito bowls.
What a great day.
This is literally the most beautiful and thrilling tale. Start to finish.
My favorite thing is that Europe is spooky because it’s old and America is spooky because it’s big
“The difference between America and England is that Americans think 100 years is a long time, while the English think 100 miles is a long way.” –Earle Hitchner
A fave of mine was always the american tales where people freaked out because ‘someone died in this house’ and all the europeans would go ‘…Yes? That would be pretty much every house over 40 years old.’
‘…My school is older than your entire town.’
‘Sorry, you think *how far* is okay to travel for a shopping trip?’
*American looks up at the beams in a country pub* ‘Uh, this place has woodworm, isn’t that a bit unsafe?’ ‘Eh, the woodworm’s 400 years old, it’s holding those beams together.’
A few years ago when I was in college I did a summer program at Cambridge aimed specifically at Americans and Canadians, and my year it was all Americans and one Australian. We ended the program with a week in Wessex, and on the last day as we all piled onto the bus in Salisbury (or Bath? I can’t remember), the professors went to the front to warn us that we wouldn’t be making any stops unless absolutely necessary. We’re headed to Heathrow to drop off anyone flying off the same day, then back to Cambridge.
“All right, it’s going to be a long bus ride, so make sure you’re prepared for that.”
We all brace ourselves. A long bus ride? How long? We’re Americans; a long bus ride for us is a minimum of six hours with the double digits perfectly plausible. We can handle a twelve hour bus ride as long as we get a bathroom break.
The answer. “Two hours.”
Oh.
English people trying to travel around Australia and wildly underestimating distance are my favourite thing
a tour guide in France told my school group that a particular cathedral wouldn’t interest us much because “it’s not very old; only from the early 1600s”
to which we had to respond that it was still older than the oldest surviving European-style buildings in our country
China is both old and big. I had some Chinese colleagues over; we were discussing whether they wanted to see the Vasa ship (hugely expensive war ship which sank on it’s maiden voyage after 12 min). They asked if it was old, I said “not THAT old” (bearing in mind they were Chinese) “it’s from the 1500s.” To my surprise they still looked impressed, nodding enthusiatically. Then I realised I’d forgotten something: “…I mean it’s from the 1500s AFTER the birth of Christ” and they went “oh, AFTER…”.
My dad’s favorite quote from various tours in Italy was “Pay no attention to the tower – it was a [scornful tone] tenth century addition.”
My last boss was Chinese, and she said when her parents came to visit her from Beijing they pronounced Chicago “A very nice village.”
So I came home from work today and there was a kindle addressed to me that I did not remember ordering. I spent the afternoon trying to figure out how I accidentally purchased a kindle from Amazon, and when I came back from hanging out with Catherine, I told my parents, guys, you will not believe what I accidentally ordered for myself.
“Huh,” said Dad very casually. “Did you get charged for it?”
I spent the next five minutes checking my bank account and came back into the living room to announce, “No, I didn’t. Do you think it’s a mistake? But it has my name on it! what does this mean”
It was around the time that I started to sound panicked that Dad confessed to buying it for me (“I didn’t realize the mystery of it would be so terrifying”). Which was very, very sweet and slightly unfortunate because yesterday I purchased a replacement kindle for myself.
So anyway, we now have a family kindle
Me and Mom were talking about the kindle this morning, and she told me about how a few weeks ago, she got into her car only to discover that it had been mysteriously cleaned.
“But who would do this?” she said to my father who said he was sure he had no idea. “A student? A stranger? Someone who broke into my car to steal it but felt bad about how dirty it was? WHO??”
Eventually Dad was like, “Honey. It was clearly me.”
Poor Dad just wants to be a man who expresses his love through silent actions, but his family consists of panicked, suspicious women who apparently are very sure that strangers will ominously do nice things for us
The auxiliary water pump on my car broke (the plastic rotted and cracked so it was spewing coolant everywhere) and the mechanic wanted me to pay $300 for a $150 part.
I went to an auto store and bought the part for just under $150 and was gonna have the mechanic install it until I called them back and they said they don’t install customer parts.
So I figured if they won’t install customer parts, they’ll at least fix existing problems with the vehicle.
So, naturally I poorly installed the new part myself, then took it to the mechanic saying I had coolant issues and wasn’t sure what the problem was. They fixed the problem in under 20 minutes and only charged me $30 for the labor.
Ho l y
Imma try that last one
I went to my doctor’s office and asked if they had any slots open for that day. They told me they don’t take walk-ins, you have to call ahead for an appointment.
So I pulled out my phone and called the office. The other receptionist answered the phone and the first one literally WATCHED ME say “I’d like to make an appointment today if you have any slots available.”
He said to me (on the phone) all they had available was for 9:00, could I make it in time?
I said “Yep, I’m standing right here.”
He didn’t understand what I meant and happily put my appointment down.
I hung up and said to the original receptionist, “Hi, I have an appointment in five minutes.”
She (very angrily) entered me as arrived and gave me my forms.
my professor spent our entire seminar whining about how there’s too many girls in our group and not enough boys. he was like “i’m not saying women can’t be good surgeons but we need more men” no, we don’t. men suck. deal with it.
CRY ALL YOU FUCKING WANT YOUR TEARS DON’T MEAN SHIT TO ME. YOUR TEARS MEAN DICK TO ME JUST SO YOU KNOW
Okay so not to be that person who adds on to a post with their own story but my mom is a doctor and when I was eleven she took me to these all-female seminar led by a woman who was the head of a hospital because my mom is an empowered and independent woman who wanted her daughter to be the same way and so there’s like thirty females surgeons in the room, all sitting around his huge circlular confrenece table and talking about their experiences in becoming surgeons
most of them were like “everyone told me I should become a nurse or a pediatrician” and “people assume that I don’t know what I’m doing” you know, your average sexist bs
one of the women’s last name was starboard (yeah I know great name) and she was talking about how even though now she was one of the most accomplished surgeons at the hospital, the male scrub techs (read: guys who didn’t go to fucking medical school) and some of the male doctors call her starbitch in the OR because they (scrub techs mostly, strangely enough) try to suggest different ways to care for the patient and she always tells them no you didn’t go to med school and I did and so they would go out of their way to get the male doctors to treat the patient differently and then she would have to argue with him to prove what she was doing es right but sometimes the male doctor would come and take over the case anyway and this went on for a while
but then the hospital statistics changed bc this woman was literally being prevented from treating her patients bc the men were interfering and so the administrative head heard about this (she was female) and she was like y’all better stop or y’all better start looking for new jobs and then starboard was allowed to work on her patients and got the scrub techs replaced and all of the sudden, the patients were suddenly doing much better during and after surgery.
when she told this story she was like “people still call me a bitch, and maybe I am because I won’t let them walk all over me, but when you’ve got something to do, when you’ve got a life to save, you have to ignore their bullshit so that you can save someone’s fuckin life. Sexism should never stop you from accomplishing that”
and little eleven-year-old me still remembers that bc I was insecure and awkward and here was this woman who just did what she had to do and ignored all the people trying to stop here and she really was better than all the male doctors (like her patient stats were better) and I thought I should share with you this inspiring woman with the cool last name
In such trying times I wanted to share a happy story…
So about a month ago I’m getting back from a break and hear a strange cheeping coming from my boss’s office. I poke my head in and see him staring at a small bird in a cage with a look of consternation.
“A guest brought this to the front office. They found it in the garden and thought it was injured.”
I take a closer look at the bird in question and my heart sinks. It’s a fledgling robin. Someone saw it hopping around learning to fly, assumed it was injured, and essentially kidnapped it.
“Did they say where they found it?” I asked.
“Not really, just somewhere on the green. I think I’m gonna take it to the Nature Center after work.”
But then we talked for a bit and decided to take the little bird out to the green just to see if the parents happened to show up. We set the robin out on the grass near some undergrowth, stepped away, and watched.
At first nothing happened, except a lot of unhappy cries from the fledgling. I played some robin calls on my phone.
Then finally we see an adult robin watching from a nearby tree. It lands and the baby immediately starts hop-sprinting towards the adult. At first the adult stays put, but then it flies away.
Our hearts sink.
And then the adult bird returns with a worm and plops it into the baby’s mouth. I almost applauded.
We watched for a few more minutes as the two parents showered their kidnapped offspring with food. We also posted a sign in the general vicinity warning guests not to kidnap the fledgling birds.
Sometimes things work out. I try to take heart in that, even when it’s little things.
Sometimes I say to myself “I had a pretty normal and boring childhood” but then I remember that 11-year-old me may have accidentally convinced some other kids that I was kidnapped by a shady government agency.
Care to elaborate?
WELL, SINCE YOU ASKED
2006 was the year that I
discovered the internet. I spent most of this time doing nothing but watch
Harry Potter fanvids and tracking down so much Harry/Ginny fanfiction that it’s
probably the reason I hated that ship for so long, kind of like when you were
in fourth grade and you realized that bologna was actually Really Bad and you
started aggressively avoiding it? Yeah, it was like that. Harry/Ginny was the
bologna of my formative fandom years.
So I’m eleven years old and
for the last two months or so I’ve been just shoving my brain full of all kinda
of mature narratives that I really, probably, should not have been putting my mind
to at the time. My parents knew that this was how I was occupying my time but I
think that they thought, since Harry Potter was a kids’ book series, the people
who were writing the fics were…kids. And they eventually did wise up to
the fact that I was reading Really Very Adult Things and put kid blocks on the
computer for all of five minutes. But, y’know, that’s another story.
It wasn’t really porn that I was reading, per say, as
much as writing that just…wasn’t meant to be consumed by an eleven-year-old.
For instance, stories about government espionage and criminal crime. Things that
the HP books touched on, sure, but in a way that was consumable by the very
young and very naïve. These fics weren’t for the uninitiated. And I take full
responsibility for exposing myself to those things. I very purposefully did a
few things that I should not have in order to access this content. One of those
things was making myself an email, without my parents’ permission, at an age
two years younger than the Yahoo terms of service allowed at the time. I listed
my age as eighteen on the email account because that was the age you needed to be to get into some of the archives
I wanted access to and I had no idea that the administrators had literally no
way of checking if my email was registered to an eighteen year old person or
not.
So, I don’t know if it was because
of being registered as an adult or because of the forums I was visiting, but I
got a lot of very weird spam. And since I was eleven and I had no idea how any
of that stuff worked, I thought it was real people…sending me emails.
Thankfully my parents had only raised a little
fool, not a big fool, so I never clicked any of the links or anything. I was
just quietly upset that people thought I cared about car insurance and online gambling
when all I wanted was to read the Marked Mature Chapter Of That Harry/Ginny
Wedding Fic. A fic in which ‘glass of water’ was used as a euphemism for orgasm,
which was something that I did not pick
up on until I suddenly remembered that line when I was sitting in a lecture
hall ten literal years later.
Yes, I know.
So one day I’m looking through
my email to see if I have any new reviews on my Harry Potter/Hannah Montana crossover
fic (Yes, I know) when I come across an email the subject line of which is just
“Confidential.”
“Cool,” says little Maggie,
who maybe at that point didn’t really know what confidential meant, and clicked
on it.
This was a very long time ago
so I really don’t remember the content of the email, let alone the exact warning,
but the gist of it was something like:
WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID SEND 10,000
DOLLARS TO THIS BANK ACCOUNT OR THE GOVERNMENT WILL BE NOTIFIED.
This is very obviously
recognizable as a scam to somebody who isn’t eleven years old. It’s not even a
very good scam. It’s the kind of
thing that only children and elderly people with dementia would react to.
Unfortunately, I was a child.
A child with a guilty conscience because I had been reading Things I was not
supposed to for several months now, and had also lied about my age by some
SEVEN YEARS to access the very email account by which I had been sent this ominous
message.
Predictably, because I was both
an overreactive child and apparently an idiot
child, I freaked out. I deleted the email and panicked, very quietly, in
the corner of my dad’s home office for a good ten minutes. Then, for reasons
that are completely unknown EVEN TO ME, I retrieved the email from the trash
bin and printed it out. I then slipped
it into my backpack and brought it to
school the next day.
Even worse, the first thing I
did was drag my two friends into the situation.
“Meet me in the bathroom,” I said
to them, because some part of me seemed to think that my life had now become a
Cool Spy Movie. We huddled into a stall in the bathroom and stared at the
paper.
“I don’t have ten thousand
dollars,” I told them.
“What did you do?” asked one
of my friends.
“That’s none of your concern,”
I said.
“Do you think it’s the FBI?
Or the CSI?” (Not a typo—she said CSI)
“Yes,” I said, and did not
elaborate.
“What happens if you don’t pay
it.”
“I’ll be kidnapped,” I said,
with utmost conviction. “That’s what happens when the government doesn’t like you.
They make you disappear.”
We eventually returned to
class. I was pretty jazzed at being the center of our friend group’s attention
for the day. It was a Friday, and the height of my concern for the actual situation
had waned and, by the time I got home later that day, I had mostly forgotten
about my fear of being violently kidnapped by the CSI.
Something that I’ve not mentioned
to any of you—and something that I had not mentioned to my friends at the time,
either—was that this was my last day at
that school. I was due to start at a new school that coming Monday. I hadn’t
told anybody because I was switching to a public school from a private school
and I thought that telling people would make them think I was dumb? I don’t
know, but I hadn’t told literally anybody
that I was switching schools. Not even my teachers. I assume that my parents
informed them at some point but I still have the middle school-level math book
hanging out in my closet that I never returned because I never told anybody I was leaving.
I had no way of contacting
any of my friends from the other school. I wouldn’t get my first cell phone for
probably another six or seven months. I also
stopped going to the Youth Group that I was in with one of them because my dad
got spooked when I dropped some Knowledge About Christ on him at one point and
decided that the group was way too fundamentalist. (It was, but I was very
upset about being pulled out at the time.)
So please imagine. Friend
comes to school with ominous email from ~the government~. Friend stops coming
to school. Friend stops coming to unrelated
activity. Friend doesn’t ever contact you again. You’re eleven years old.
I’m not saying that there are
two girls out there who still remember me as “That girl who might have been kidnapped
by the government.” I like to think that they probably came up with a more
reasonable explanation as they got older. But it’s a possibility that, for a little
while sometime in 2006/2007, I accidentally convinced my friends that I had
been kidnapped by a shady government agency.
CaptainBubblebath 