We've all had those moments where we think it couldn't possibly get any worse... and then it does. Well, these people share those moments from their lives and they're oh-so-deliciously horrible. Enjoy!
My wife of 10 years left me in May because she "never actually loved me".
In August I found out that before she actually filed for divorce in July she had started dating a new guy who she fell in love with after just meeting him. While struggling to get through this, I was told by our 5 year old that the new boyfriend had bought her underwear that my ex had my daughter "model her new underwear" and took pictures of it to send pictures of to the boyfriend.
My mum lit a bonfire and left it unattended, which set fire to the grass which set fire to the garden shed which set the hedge on fire which blew up some gas canisters which set fire to a rat nest which spewed burning rats all over the yard which the fire fighters chopped in half with axes which my dad had to clean up.
This is absolutely 100% true and although it left my brother with a nasty rat phobia we survived intact. The smell of burning rat was the worst part.
Two of my friends had a falling out. I was dying to know what was going on between them, because they lived together and I felt like I was watching mommy and daddy get divorced. One friend was never around and the other told me he honestly didn't know what going on.
After a couple months, I finally got some one-on-one time with the other friend, who explained everything to me in detail. Basically he asked if he could date the other friend's cousin, who emphatically said NO. But, since the other friend had dated his cousin without asking, he violated bro-code and started seeing her anyway.
In dating this girl, he came to find out that she and the other friend were more than just cousins... They had carried on a physical relationship for years. Basically they fooled around whenever the family wasn't looking.
But hold on! It gets worse... He was told this went on for 10 years. The girl was 22. Her cousin was 24. They had been having sex since middle school.
But hold the heck on! It gets worse... The girl's father, and her cousin's father, are identical twins. Let that sink in for a second. Genetically, they are half-siblings.
At that point in the story, I downed my beer and apologized for even asking about what was going on. I wished I'd never known. As a follow up, they no longer live together or speak to each other. I'm still really close with the incest-free friend. I see the other friend in passing and we're still friends, but its hard to look him in the eye.
A month ago our ceiling fell down and caused a total mess, the room was destroyed. Nightmare.
Then wasps started coming in - lots of wasps.
Turns out we had a few nests in our roof, and they were coming in the newly formed hole. So the exterminator came, sprayed his spray and we watched as over the following few days literally thousands of wasps fell from the vortex to hell until they all died.
Then our roofer came round to remove what was left of the rotten timber and plaster. I heard a blood curdling scream and saw the poor man swarmed with wasps. Turns out the nest was bigger than the exterminator thought (it was over three feet long) and very much still active. He came and removed the nest, still crawling with wasps.
Then our insurance company said they wouldn't cover any repairs as it was wear and tear (from a leak we had no way of knowing about!)
Then that weekend my cat died and she was really cute and I'll never know joy again.
Last effing April.
My dog died. He was only about 7 years old, and an undiagnosed tumor ruptured and he died within a few hours.
And then my dad's cancer started growing again.
And then my mom was diagnosed with cancer.
And then my father-in-law was diagnosed with cancer.
All within a few weeks.
My brother moved to Vermont to work at a ski resort to escape his stressful job in Philly. Before he even started his first day of work, he skied into a tree and broke his collar bone, leaving him unable to work there. He next found a job on a passenger train in Alaska working as a bartender. On one of his days off he was playing basketball with coworkers and tore his ACL (that he had torn years before in high school). After coming home for surgery/recover, he landed a job in Denver. He was mountain biking down a slope and managed to hit his head on a tree which gave him a major concussion. Days later, his girlfriend and he were having lunch at a restaurant and he lost consciousness, fell out of his seat, and coded. His girlfriend performed CPR until paramedics arrived to take him to the hospital. Fortunately, he was resuscitated!
Coming home from work on a Friday night at around midnight with a 6 pack of beer (it was from a bartending job) and my neighbours were partying.
I was new to the apt complex but I used to work with the neighbour so I knew her and her bf. So instead of complaining about the raucous noise I grabbed 2 beers and headed over to say, "turn down the music or let me in!"
I banged on their door (keep in mind there is a peep hole in the apt door) and someone who was not her bf opened the door. His name is Jamie and I recognized him as the bf's co-worker. Jamie is obviously naked (his crotch is hidden by the door, but that was it), sweaty. I'm thinking I've intruded on some nefarious cheating and want no part of it.
I gasp out an apology and start making a bee-line back to my apt. Somehow he donned pants and managed to chase me back and got to my apt door just as I got there. With his hand on my door he says, "Its ok, you can join us, just please have an open mind...".
I want no part of this, but I was the one that knocked and spewed out my stupid line about wanting to join before I realized who I was speaking to. Now I felt obligated to "act" nice because he was.
As I was verbally protesting, he led me back down the hallway to her apt holding me gently by my wrists (the beers were still in each hand), while saying softly over and over, "...just have and open mind...". I was so unhappy.
As we entered the apt I saw it was filthy, I mean full on disgusting. So I thought maybe that's why I had to have an open mind, because the place looked like feral animals lived in it and I was actually starting to feel a sense of relief.
As he lead me around a corner to the kitchen I am absolutely in shock by the amount of filth everywhere. I see the kitchen floor, in fact I could barely see it because it literally looked like no one had washed or swept it in YEARS.
As I was held mesmerized by the filthy floor I hear in Gollum's voice (not joking)... "not her, not her!!". I raised my eyes above the kitchen floor to see where this voice is coming from. It's coming from my former co-worker who is sitting in the corner of the kitchen naked, except she is wearing a dog collar and some sort of leather dog-like body strap/leather with her boobies hanging limply through the leather straps. Seeing her sitting naked on that horrendously dirty floor and pointing at me with a long, super skinny knobby arm and saying (seriously, just like Gollum)... "Not her, not her!..".
Omfg, I then take in the entire scene. It was just not her sitting on that floor, she was sitting beside her bf who had obviously had thrown on some underwear while Jamie was collecting me.
I realize that Jamie had brought me in to add to their disgusting threesome (these are NOT attractive people not that that would've made a difference, but still)! I scream, "OMFG NO!!! NO WAY! NOT ME! YOU'RE RIGHT ABOUT THAT!!!" And I run back to my apt.
I'm literally walking in confused circles in my kitchen when I hear a loud knock on my door and I yell, "GET AWAY FROM ME!!!" But the knocking continued, so with my door chain in place I yank the door open and there's Jamie, leaning against my door frame and saying, "Shelley is really concerned with what you just saw..." I don't remember what I screamed at him but I screamed at him then slammed the door.
A friend of mine found out her husband was cheating, huge blowout, and he moved out that night.
The next morning she woke up still shell shocked, and discovered her 10-year-old black lab had died in the kitchen.
Came home from work to find my fianc in bed with someone else, three months before the wedding. It gets worse. I'm a female, my ex-fiance a male... The other person... ALSO a dude. Turns out he was using me to hide his sexuality from his family, too afraid to come out of the closet. It gets worse. I came back the next day for my stuff. He pushed me THROUGH a wall and down a flight of stairs. I'm okay now. It was a while ago. Now have a very stable, safe, honest relationship with a great guy. Who thankfully isn't cheating, and isn't in the closet.
I took an hour long train ride to San Francisco to meet some friends that were visiting. I ended up skating 6 miles in the wrong direction, then fell and skinned the back of my hand, finally met my friends but could only hang out for a short time because it took me so long to get to them, then my phone was stolen at the train station, the train was FULL of rowdy drunk people, then the train hit someone and we were stopped for 3 hours, a drunk driver almost hit me on my walk home.
Then I tried to fart and crapped myself a couple blocks from home.
When I got home I just sat in the shower with a beer.
Back in April on my birthday, my family came over for dinner and cake. It was my sister, her husband, my niece, my parents, my brother, his then fianc, and my gf.
So we're having a nice time, eating hoagies (subs for those not from philly) and my newly 2 year old niece decided to jump on the couch. While my sister headed over to stop her, my niece slipped and with a loud bang hit her head on the coffee table.
My sister yelped and quickly scooped up her daughter. My niece was crying and my sister was trying to calm her. Everything was quiet for a moment; then my sister screamed. She rushed into the kitchen and I looked at my niece's head.
There was blood. A lot of blood.
We spin into a panic as my sister is hyperventilating. I quickly soak up the blood with a paper towel and notice only a very tiny cut, she didn't even need stitches. My father grabbed some ice and a rag and put pressure on the cut. My Brother-in-law took my sister and niece to the hospital as the rest of us cleaned up a bit before heading over.
As we're cleaning, my 14-year-old deaf cocker spaniel decided he wanted a hoagie. I glance over to the table, only to see his face slowly reaching for one. We all notice and run over to stop him. But that hoagie was no more; only scraps remained.
So as we were cleaning said scraps, my dog walks back into the kitchen, looks at us... and craps on the floor.
25 or so years ago I was working in a restaurant. I was working a double one day and on my break, I called my answering machine to check my messages at home.
First message is from my Mom. The doctor has just told her she has stage 4 lung cancer.
Next message is from my Dad, (they're divorced and live in different states.) The doctor has just told him he has stage 4 lung cancer.
So, not only are both my parents dying, but they're doing so at the same time 800 miles apart.
That was the day life stopped being fun.
Yes, they both were smokers. They were from a time when everyone did.
And yes, it was an awful time. My siblings and I just sort of got through it. It completely turned all our lives upside down but it drew us all closer together.
They both passed away within a year.
My birthday earlier this year, I was written up by my boss. And they delivered it to me on my birthday. Kept me after work for an hour, still going over my write-up. I was written up for "not following up," when in reality, her door was always closed and she never responded to emails.
The next day I left for a trip, but woke up with a migraine. Flying with a migraine really sucks.
A few days later, when I flew home, the flight was delayed a few hours, but I had tickets to an event at the arena back home that evening. I landed an hour before the event started and my friend picked me up in his truck so we could go straight to the arena. He has a big pick-up and it doesn't fit well in the arena garage, so he had to park it in one of the neighboring business lots. During the event, his truck windows were smashed in and all of my bags were stolen, including everything I got from my family for my birthday, things I purchased in CA, and my tablet and wireless headphones that the arena wouldn't let me bring in because the bag was too big. And my house keys and medication.
The police took three hours to meet us so we could give our report. In the meantime, my roommate is out partying somewhere and refuses to meet me to bring me a set of keys so I could go home. By the time I finally got home (12:45 AM with only a sweatshirt and 22 degrees outside in early February), I had to call a locksmith to let me in my own home. He had to drill my deadbolt out. $225 because my roommate was too busy partying.
I have renter's insurance so my personal property was covered. I made my claim, and the agent told me they also cover replacement value, meaning if they valued something at $50 and I had to spend $80, they'd pay me back that $30. So I go about my time getting back some of my clothes, leather jacket, lesser quality headphones, etc. Then they underpay me. I asked him why he didn't pay the replacement cost. He said he could show that he could get it for this price, so that's what they paid. He completely renegged on what he told me. (It's not like I don't understand what he's saying, but that's not the deal he sold me in the beginning. And I went to the same stores as where the original items came from; I wasn't trying to upgrade my life from this.)
So birthday to theft was 4 days. Insurance was another 3 weeks.
Eff this last birthday.
I once got my period at school and forgot to bring tampons with me. I had to text my dad (which was very awkward for me) to bring me a bunch of tampons at school. He brought them to the office and I picked them up. No sooner had I got back to class, when I realized I had leaked, I could feel it. I asked to go to the bathroom and inspected the damage when I got there. It was like World War III in my pants.
Apparently I had gushed a good amount all at once, which meant there was blood clearly visible on my butt and down the leg of my jeans. I couldn't even go back to class like that. They were dark blue jeans, so I figured I could rinse them in the sink and you wouldn't be able to tell they were wet. I was very wrong. While rinsing the jeans got the blood out, they were now completely soaked in the crotch, it looked like I sat on the toilet with my pants on and my whole rear fell in. The bell that ends first hour rang while I was still in the bathroom. I had to act fast, so I just soaked my pants entirely and put them back on. You couldn't tell they were wet, but my god it felt awful.
I then left the bathroom as fast as I could, hoping to run into my friend who had gym that day so I could borrow his gym shorts. I found him, and he was really confused as to why I was asking for his pants. I told him to touch my leg, and when he felt my soaked jeans he just gave me a look. I told him not to ask, and he gave me his gym shorts.
I had to go back to my first period class, wearing shorts that were obviously too big, carrying my jeans, and explain to my teacher that I "got sick."
That would all be bad enough, but it gets worse. My friends and I would sit on the ground outside for lunch, and apparently I had sat in fresh gum. I didn't realize this until I stood to get up and felt a breeze on my bum. The shorts stuck to the ground and stretched when I got up, effectively making me moon everyone at lunch. After all was said and done, I had to explain to my friend that his shorts were covered in gum and I'd have to clean them before returning them.
FUN FACT: peanut butter really does get gum out of stuff, and it even works on gym shorts.
First job, 3rd shift, at a fast food taco place which shall remain unnamed. It was very mismanaged. It was not uncommon to run out of things.
one night:
ding.
car-I would like a beef supreme burrito.
me-Sorry sir, but we are currently out of beef...
car-okay, I will take stake then.
me-...and stake. We currently have chicken and beans.
car- really?
me- yes
car- okay... I will take chicken then. I would also like a large baja blast.
Me-sigh... We are currently out of baja blast. Also we are out of large cups. Normally I would just give you the xl cups and say nothing but we are out of those too.
car- really? wow. Um... What about 2 medium lemonades.
me-this guy is really desperate man... okay no intention of charging for drinks for putting up with everything
car- and can I have some Fire sauce too?
Me-...
car- ..., What do you have?
me- mild
car- why are you open?
me - I have no idea ...
Car- okay I will take the mild then. That will be all.
me- thank you, your total is (...) pull around
give food drinks, drives off.
Ding
car 2 or many more that night- Can I have beef (whatever the hell)
me- sigh
You know how everyone has that one "party" story? The one that, no matter how hard you try, will never be topped? Well, I'm a second year college student who attends a university that likes to go by the mantra of "work hard, play hard", and this is that story.
A couple of weeks ago, I was invited to a pretty big annual event at my school that had a reputation of having a pretty wild afterparty. My buddy (let's call him Dewey) had just finished his semester and I hadn't, so he was pretty bored back in our hometown. I figured that, since he had nothing to do back at home, I would bring him to the afterparty and he could crash back at my dorm for the night, have a good time and all that. And we did. We had a fantastic time. Even made it back to my dorm in one piece somehow. I thought we just went back and crashed, but apparently some serious stuff went down after the party that I didn't hear about until later, and by then there was nothing I could do except laugh and think "there's no way that happened."
So fast forward to the morning after. It's windy outside and Dewey and I are sitting at a dining hall having some delicious hangover food. Suddenly, this conversation comes up:
"Dude...I did something last night."
"What did you do?"
"Something...something bad."
"Dewey, what the heck did you do?"
Then he hits me with what ACTUALLY happened that night after we left the party. Apparently, I was too blacked out to remember, but he definitely wasn't. And once he started recalling the story, I began to remember the crapshow that transpired afterwards. To this day, whenever I tell this story, people don't believe me...until I show them. But I'll get to that later.
So we leave the party, stumble our way back to the dorm, and get into the elevator, since I live on the 7th floor. We get out of the elevator without incident and kind of just plop down in my floor's lounge, which was thankfully empty. Seems alright. But then Dewey throws up. Everywhere. On the couch, on the study tables, on the floor, on the walls...no surface was safe from his wrath.
At this point, I'm already disgusted and thinking "oh crap, he's my guest so I'm responsible for this... housing probation here I come". But then it got worse. It got so much worse.
After the pukepocalypse, he then says he has to "go". So I hand him my ID card so he can swipe into the bathroom, which I should mention is a mere 20 feet away from us. But he turns me down and says, "Nah man, I gotta go now...like right now...and it's gonna be a big one".
Dewey then opens my lounge window, sticks his buttcheeks out, and proceeds to release the Kraken all over the side of my precious dormitory building. And when I say release the Kraken, I mean it. The immediate assault to my senses told me that it was easily the most disgusting toilet slammer I've ever been witness to in my entire life, including my own. Imagine every terrible poop you've ever taken multiplied by the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns. It was like watching the Slime fall and splatter everywhere on the Nickelodeon Kid's Choice Awards. The sound it made was awful too, like something just died and these were its final gurgles. Just the smell alone probably could have killed most small animals.
He finishes unleashing his unholy intestinal sewage all over the side of my building while I sit there just agape, but too drunk to do anything about it. Then we nonchalantly stroll back to my room and promptly pass out.
Back to the present: I'm horrified. Disgusted. Never in my life would I have imagined I would be privy to anything like this. But eh, what's done is done, no harm done right?
Wrong.
I make my way back to my building and ride the elevator up so that I can relax and nurse my hangover. In the elevator, I hear this conversation between two girls:
"I can't believe someone did that to our lounge."
"Yeah, that's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen...it smelled pretty bad in there too. The cleaning lady says it's either really bad throw up or something way worse."
"Do they know who did it?"
"I don't know, but they must have been living higher up to hit floor 4. At least it didn't get inside or anything."
Now I'm curious. And I think I know exactly what happened. So I get off on the fourth floor, enter their lounge, and lo and behold, I see this masterpiece.
Yep. That's Dewey's poop. Smeared all over the window of the lounge three floors below me.
Apparently, some people were peacefully studying at 3 in the morning the night that this slime went down when all of a sudden...WHAM, Dewey's butt babies slammed into their window hard enough to make the glass shake. The wind must have hurled it sideways mid-descent, causing his work of art to splatter onto their window with a resounding thud.
I take one good look (and smell), snap the picture, and flee to my room practically dying from laughter. Then I tell pretty much all of our friends back at home because, come on, how do you not tell everyone about that? I didn't tell any of my college friends though, I don't need that kind of blood (poop?) on my hands, and for good reason. Admin heard about it and basically put out a warrant for the capture of whoever did the deed or for anyone who helped them do it. I basically had to be on my toes for the rest of the semester in fear of being charged as an assistant to this assailant of justice. People from other dorms eventually heard about it and began sullying the good name of my building, calling it "Crap Central" and other hilarious names.
They didn't just forget about him either. For the rest of the year, the "Phantom Sh-tter" became something of a legend. No one knew who it was, but they know what he did, and what he's capable of. His legacy lives on--in me, in you, but mostly in the poop smears he left trailing down the side of my dormitory. Those are a little bit harder to wash off.
My sister was driving one day and we decided to stop for bubble tea and fried chicken (it's a thing). Having just gotten my driver's license and feeling lazy, I suggested a game of rock paper scissors. Loser goes out and buys the bubble tea and fried chicken. I won, so I moved over to the driver's seat and waited.
However, I was double parked at an active garage, and as fate would have it, the door started opening. At that moment, I made the fateful decision to drive off and double back. This was before GPS and I was unfamiliar with the roads, so I drove up around 7 blocks and not seeing any easy way to double back, decided that my best course of action was to make a u-turn...at night...on a busy main road. You can see where this is going now.
Anyways, I pulled over and waited for an opportunity to make a u-turn. Finally I had an opening and gassed it. Nope. Cue loud screeching noise and sound of metal ripping. Turns out there was a car in my blind spot and I shredded the entire passenger side of the car with my stupid idea.
I jumped out of the car and so did the lady in the other car. In a full on panic, I told the lady that the car was my sister's and I had to go get her from the coffee shop a few blocks away. Without waiting for a response, I left the car and ran back to the store. Out of breath, I told my sister that I had gotten into an accident and she hurried with me back to the site.
It turns out the unfortunate lady I had hit had JUST gotten her car from the dealership. The plates weren't even on yet and worst of all, she was only two blocks away from home! Talk about unlucky right? But wait, there's more!
In my hurry and panic, I had forgotten to turn off the headlights to my sister's car. The car battery was drained and we had to call my aunt to come jump the car since neither of the cars had jumper cables.
As if that weren't enough, I then proceeded to accidentally spill the bubble tea all over the driver's seat. Needless to say, my sister was not happy that day. The cops never came, we waited two hours and ended up going to the precinct to just file a report. Icing on the cake: we left the fried chicken back at the bubble tea place.
This is the true story of my ex and I, and why I decided to ditch America and live abroad.
So, my ex-fiancee-- let's call her Emily-- was always jealous of my best friend, "Jenny." Emily was jealous of every woman who came in contact with me, at work, in my neighborhood, you get the picture. But I had a looong, platonic relationship with Jenny, and I wasn't willing to stop being friends with her. I sometimes snuck off for beers with Jenny, but never cheated-- it wasn't even on my mind.
Anyway, I came home from one of these beer nights, to discover Emily hacked my email password, and saw my emails making plans to meet Jenny. We had a huge fight, but things calmed down and we tried to return to normalcy.
Nope, one night while playing card games with some friends at our place, I dropped a card under the table, and realized that Emily and another friend were playing footsies under the table. It wasn't until he put his hand on her thigh that I put my cards down, and punched him square in the face. POW! Broken nose.
This friend-- let's call him Chad-- was a big source of comfort for Emily while she and I were patching things up. Sometimes they came home at dawn, but I was asking Emily to trust me with Jenny; I could certainly extend that trust to Chad. Anyway, days later, Chad threatened to file charges, but mutual friends talked him out of it.
But, oh, it gets worse! At the time, I was living in a two-story home with my best friend from college, and his own fianc. They took the top floor, and Emily and I, and my dog, took the bottom. My best friend kept his cats on the second floor, because I'm terribly allergic to cats, but he saw his chance. He asked me to move out, so I could take my dog. His reasoning: Oh, Emily's from Ohio, and your mom's relatively close-by; you could go back to your mom's but Emily can't just pick up and leave. I severed contact with him immediately, and never looked back.
But, oh, it gets worse! A week goes by, and I'm completely miserable, but then comes Emily's phone call. She had a miscarriage! She had no idea she was even pregnant! I was a mess of emotions. "Whose was it," I ask Emily. She tells me she doesn't know.
But, oh, it gets worse! Emily's mom drives up to my mom's place-- from Ohio to New York-- banging and screaming at our front door, threatening that she's gonna sue for mental anguish leading to the miscarriage. I decide I had enough of America, and that I needed to go explore the world and just learn how to enjoy things again. So now I'm in Japan.
I got pregnant from IVF, but the baby passed away at 6 months. My husband and I decided to pursue Chinese adoption, but both parents had to be 30. I was 30, but hubby was 28.5...sigh. Great...more waiting.
I start working on the mountain of necessary paperwork involved, though I'm still grieving the loss of my daughter. I had all the paperwork organized in a huge plastic portable file. The file was in my car, as I was going to get stuff notarized after work. While I'm at work, my car is stolen. Yep, the car with all my paperwork. Paperwork that included our social security numbers and all our tax returns.
Two days later the car is found, total loss...shot up with bullet holes. Luckily the paperwork was there. I had a bag full of birthday gifts for my nieces and nephews in the trunk (not visible from the outside), as I was going to drop them off at my sister's. You guessed it...the thieves took the gifts. The only thing they left was the adoption paperwork and a Bible.
So, I get a new car the following week, and one night a cop pulls me over. He claims I didn't come to a complete stop at a stop sign, but I seriously did. He asks for my insurance info, but I left it on the kitchen counter, as I had just gotten this new car the day before. I explained the situation but he still gave me a sizeable ticket.
Several months pass, and I'm almost done completing all the adoption paperwork. Yay! I wake up in the morning to get ready to ship it all to the consulate, and I see that my cat had jumped onto the kitchen island and literally shredded our marriage certificate! There was no way to even tape it together. The even bigger problem is that we got married in Jamaica so we had to contact the Jamaican government to get a certified copy. This delayed the adoption process by several more months.
Throughout all of this, I'm still grieving the daughter I lost, and it felt like everything was going wrong...I just couldn't catch a break.
This was in 2003. Flash forward to now, and we are the proud parents of our two incredible daughters from China. All the pain and aggravation had a happy ending.
Comments have been edited for clarity.
