Youthful Indescretions

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Zephryus
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Youthful Indescretions

Post by Zephryus » Mon Mar 22, 2004 3:37 pm

The current subject matter in the Nudity And Nervousness thread inspired me to start this one. Got an embarrassing childhood story that we all can learn from (or at least chuckle at)? Confess!

I'll start the proceedings with this little story:
When I was ten years old, I learned from a science book that graphite is a good electrical conductor. Around the same time, I learned how lightbulbs work and how light sockets are wired. I also knew from past experience that electricity looks really cool. (I once plugged a vacuum cleaner in while it was set to "on" and saw the spark.) Put one and two and three together and you have me standing on a chair in my bedroom with a freshly sharpened #2 pencil in hand, aiming for the terminals in the light socket. Now, lest you consider me to be completely daft, know that the thought of making myself into an electrical conduit had occured to me; I just figured the wood in the pencil would act as an insulator. It didn't. There was a horrible noise like the air around me being ripped in two, and I swear I saw sparks shoot out my elbow. My arm was twitching for about a minute afterward. To this day I'm careful to turn the light switch off before changing a bulb. Although I've never made the sme mistake, I'm positive that event laid the groundwork for my becoming an electrician. Y'know why? As I sat on my bedroom floor, feeling my arm twitch, I wasn't thinking "Ow, that hurt!" No, I was thinking "So that's what the ground wire's for!"

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Post by calsur » Tue Mar 23, 2004 12:08 am

Will you accept posts about D. L. B.s?

I am the oldest of 4 boys. So if I do not want to confirm my moron status is it OK to talk about my Dumd Little Brothers?

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Post by Zephryus » Tue Mar 23, 2004 12:59 am

Anything, so long as it happened long enough ago that you can introduce the story by saying "When I was a kid..."

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Post by calsur » Tue Mar 23, 2004 2:58 am

“When I was a kid..."

Me and my DLB's were back on my gramp's farm in Illinois. And while exploring the barn we came across an old English (I now know) saddle. So DLB 1 (Kevin) said we should saddle up a pig and try it out. As I was constantly trying to thin the competition out I agreed as long as he would ride first.

So we took the saddle over to the pig pen and ran one of the smaller pig, about 200 pounds, into the vet pen. This is a small area when the pig is trapped so you can clip the ears and do stuff like giving shots.

There were a few problems. Pigs do not like being saddled. They object. And saddles meant for horses do not fit pigs without some real adaptation. I think we wrapped the cinch strap around the pig 3 times before we got it buckled.

But we did it and Kevin climbed on and I flipped the gate open. A difference between pigs and horses. Horses buck coming out of the gate, pigs roll. Kevin = about 90 pounds, pig = about 200 pounds. Pig wins.


And about 3 seconds into my belly laugh, Gramps shows up to see what is upsetting the pigs. The rest is personally painful to remember. Lets just say my Grandfather BELIEVED in "Spare the rod and spoil the child". I guess this is because he had already raised 4 boys.

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Post by robotland » Tue Mar 23, 2004 7:11 am

"When I was a kid"....

Knowing that I did magic shows for birthday parties and such, the pastor of our church approached me to do some "effects" for our Christmas observances- My job would be to make Santa, played by said pastor, appear in a puff of smoke. I had a small "flash pot", basically a wood block with two nails wired to an electric cord with a thin copper wire running between the nails and through a small pile of black powder. On cue I would plug in the pot, there'd be a little "pop" and some smoke, and Santa jumps through the smoke and does his schpiel. Worked like a charm, and I repeated my success the following year. On the third year Santa informed me that he would be retiring after this Christmas, so my services would no longer be necessary, so I loaded the flashpot with the equivalent of a 21-gun salute. Waiting until Santa was poised directly above the flashpot I set off the charge, scorching his red velour britches and filling the commons with sulphorous brimstome smog. I forget or have hysterically blocked what punishment I received for this, but in exchange for Roast Kringle it was a small price to pay.....
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Post by Apollonaris Zeus » Tue Mar 23, 2004 1:29 pm

Zephyrus- you really blow!

(just had to say that!)

A II Z

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Post by RingO'Fire » Tue Mar 23, 2004 8:21 pm

Alright, I've got one...

This is one of my many "it seemed like a good idea at the time" stories. You know you've all got one too, so just go ahead and bust it on out for all of us. In the meantime, here's mine.

When I was a kid of about eleven or so, I had a brilliant idea (or so it seemed at the time). My buddies and I on Signal Mountain, Tennessee (a sleepy little well-manicured suburb of Chattanooga) had to entertain ourselves somehow, and one of the forms of entertainment we specialized in was vandalism. One day in my basement, I found a can of bright red spraypaint, which gave me an idea. So I hatched a plan and pitched to my group of 3-4 friends.

"Hey fellas, how about if we take this can of red spraypaint and go spraypaint cusswords on cars and stuff?!" The guys thought this was a brilliant idea too and instantly agreed. So, we proceeded to implement "the plan." The major problem with our plan was that we decided to spray paint cars in our own neighborhood!

We went through the neighborhhod at night spraypainting such inspired prose as "SHIT", "FUCK", and "FUCK YOU" on the doors of about eight cars, some mailboxes, and, in four-foot high letters, on one of those classic stainless steel Airstream trailers. Spraypainting cusswords just seemed doubly naughty. At one point, we were painting one of our neighbor's cars when they came out the front door! (we were on the opposite side of the car). We scurried off down the dark street, with the little metal mixing ball bouncing around inside the paint can "tink tink....tink tink...tink tink." We did this on two separate nights in the same week.

However, I got caught by my own big mouth. I was bragging about our feats to my older cousin on the telephone when my mom overheard me.
"YOU did that?!" Boy, was she pissed! I got an ass-whuppin' AND I was grounded for three months. My parents also made me swear not to tell anyone else what I had done (I think it's probably ok now though), for fear that they would have to buy all of our victims new paint jobs.

The funniest thing about it to me now is imagining people's reactions when they walked out of their houses in the morning, seeing "FUCK YOU" in two-foot high, bright red letters on the side of their car. I imagine some bleary-eyed businessman/woman, soccer mom, etc. walking out of their house in the morning, running late for wherever they're going, clutching their coffee cup, then...they notice...something's not quite right...the puzzled look..."Hey, wait a minute..."...then...."AW DAMMIT! You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me! Now what?! I can't BELIEVE this shit!" (I'm grinning from ear to ear as I write this). Then, the best part...they have no other car...and they have to drive it to work/school etc. with a giant red "FUCK YOU" or "SHIT" written on the side of their car. I'm imagining all the stares, the chuckles, the finger pointing, and especially the gape-mouthed looks of horror from the southern ultra conservative, church-going baptist motorists as our victim drove down the road with steam coming out of their ears!

On second thought, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all... Even though I'm sure it took a while to repay my karmic debt after this escapade, I have to admit, it still makes me laugh.
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by Zephryus » Tue Mar 23, 2004 8:35 pm

You're a bad, bad man, Ring. And you had more balls than I did as a kid.

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Post by Zephryus » Tue Mar 23, 2004 9:07 pm

This is not to say that I didn't do anything crude and/or illegal. For instance, the fourth of July was always a special time for me and my friends. While our parents celebrated the birth of our netion by getting shitfaced, we celebrated by blowing shit up. For us, independence day was like an episode of Bill Nye the Science Guy on ritalin. We would ask ourselves a series of questions that could only be answered with the copious use of illegal fireworks: What happens if you light an M-80 and throw it down a manhole? (Answer: you hear the shockwave down the street.) What happens if you put a bottle rocket inside a bottle and light it? (Answer: The bottle explodes into a shower of tiny glass shards. Pretty neat, actually.) Can bottle rockets be succesfully aimed at hapless urban creatures, such as pidgeons and squirrels? (Answer: Unfortunately, no. Bottle rockets don't aim worth shit.) And so on.
One year, however, was special. That was the year my friend Nick got his wrist rocket. If you've never seen one of these things, picture an industrial strength slingshot that braces against your arm. For us, it was thirty one flavors of Badass. And it enabled us to widen our scope as amateur pyrotechnicians. New questions begged to be answered: If you light a cherry bomb and sling it, how far will it go before blowing up? (Answer: Surprisingly far.) Can said cherry bombs be successfully aimed at hapless urban creatures? (Answer: Yes! With apologies to the vegitarians in the house.) Could certain fireworks -which were never intended to leave the ground- be enhanced through flight? Yes again! Could you totally freak out the kid who wasn't paying attantion by slinging a string of poppers at the back of his head? Oh lord, yes. (We wound up taking turns being the brunt of that joke.)
Then one of my friends upped the ante by daring Nick to successfully launch a smokebomb through the open window of some neighbors across the street. The house was a good 150 feet away; we didn't think he could do it. He surprised us. Shit. The neighbors came boiling out of their house and we bolted as fast as we possibly could, returning only after the fire truck was good and gone. We got lucky; we didn't start a fire and the neighbors didn't see us. We swore not to tell anyone and our parents never found out. Whew.

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Post by precipitate » Tue Mar 23, 2004 9:14 pm

> Can said cherry bombs be successfully aimed at hapless urban
> creatures? (Answer: Yes! With apologies to the vegitarians in the house.)

It's OK if you eat them afterwards.

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Post by RingO'Fire » Wed Mar 24, 2004 4:25 pm

Please...Please...PLEASE! Come on folks! [Almost whining] Step right into the electronic public confessional. Confess and be absolved (maybe) of your "Youthful Indiscretions."

Zephryus, you're a genius in my book. As far as I'm concerned, this has the potential to be one of the most interesting threads on the eplaya. I've personally got dozens of "then there was the OTHER time I had a brilliant idea" stories, but I want to hear everyone else's too.

So...how about it folks? Regale us with your story. Hell, make it third person if you want, like calsur's excellent DLB porcine rodeo story.

Waiting to laugh...
Mr. Wild
(really, that's my name)

(homage to mr. smith)
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by robotland » Thu Mar 25, 2004 9:59 am

The Wrist Rocket is a destructive hoodlum juvenile's best friend. I've always been surprised that you can just buy them over the counter. Add to the repertoire the heavy artillery, The Funnellator....Heavy rubber hose or innertube, slam one end in the car door, hold the other end, launching cup made from a funnel at the midpoint- We used to sail waterballoons across lakes and into peoples' screen doors, or bombard neighbors from blocks away....
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Post by RingO'Fire » Thu Mar 25, 2004 12:14 pm

Wrist rockets ARE pretty excellent for creative vandalism and destruction (little critters beware too!). I also like potato (potatoE, if you're Dan Quayle) cannons. A few years ago (maybe 5 - not really a YOUTHFUL indiscretion), we used a potato cannon to launch spuds at boaters cruising down the river (the Tennessee)directly behind our house. We could launch a potato about 500-600 feet (halfway across the River). We angled the cannon barrel at a 45-degree angle to get the maximum distance. The potatoes would usually just splash down around the boaters (We - my brother and nephew and I - never actually hit anybody). After we would launch a spud at them, a couple of boats gave us the finger and then sped off downstream before we could reload (not a fast process). A few people actually waved to us while we were reloading!
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by Zephryus » Thu Mar 25, 2004 1:14 pm

I've heard you can kill people with those things.

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Post by precipitate » Thu Mar 25, 2004 1:28 pm

You can kill people with a spoon.

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Post by Zephryus » Thu Mar 25, 2004 1:37 pm

-Insert obligatory Robin Hood quote-

Perhaps what I should have said was "Dude! When I was fourteen I totally heard that a potato gun at medium range would, like, EAT a car door, much less a person. Badass!" Of course, we never had the guts to procure one of the things, which once again proves that Ring was a better hoodlum than I was.

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Post by dman » Thu Mar 25, 2004 3:47 pm

OK, since this IS the Burning Man eplaya.

A few years ago we remodelled the pool in the backyard. Stood empty for a couple of months. Not a large pool, but about 9 feet deep on one end.

Back then you could still own 20 lb propane tanks where if you opened the valve gas would just come pouring out, especially if you tipped it on its side when full.

So, lean tank over side of pool, open valve for a couple of seconds, toss in a match.

WHOMP!

Whee!

Again. More gas. WHOMMPP!

Wheeee!

What fun!

About the 5th time, under the theorem that "You never know how much is enough until you know how much is too much!", I left the valve open a tad too long, or maybe the air/gas mix was just right....

Anyway, the fireball came up and over the edges of the pool. Way too much WHOMP, and lots of HEAT. Ouch! Seared my face, took my eyebrows clean off and my hairline back a good inch or so (might've been more if I hadn't dropped to the ground and ran my hands all over checking to see where I was on fire). My ears hurt for days after.

I kind of hated to refill the pool; wife, kids, cats all couldn't wait....
"Yes, but is it art?" "No, Art is over there, on the couch."

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Post by RingO'Fire » Thu Mar 25, 2004 4:13 pm

Zephryus wrote:...Ring was a better hoodlum than I was.
Flattery will get you...somewhere, at least with me anyway.

OK, here's another one. This story involves several great elements of youthful indiscretion, namely, theft, spying, cross-dressing, and public humiliation. BTW, This is my mom's favorite story to embarass me to girlfriends or dates.

When I was a kid of around seven or so in placid little Signal Mountain, Tennessee, my bestest buddy in the world was another kid my age, named Scott, who lived about three houses down the block from me. We were actually curious and mischevious, not really mean, little fuckers.

My next-door neighbor at the time was a widow, Mrs. Jones, whose husband had died about a year before this event happened. Mrs. Jones used to hang her laundry out to dry on the clothesline behind her house. Scott and I were at that tender age when boys start becoming curious about girls, the opposite sex, "you show me yours & I'll show you mine" and all that. So, one day, I had a brilliant idea that seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Hey Scott, how 'bout if we go steal Mrs. Jones underwear and then go down in the woods and try them on?" Scott thought this was a brilliant idea as well and instantly agreed. So, in broad daylight, we went over to Mrs. Jones backyard and started plucking her underwear off of the clothesline. We scurried off down into the woods (our neighborhood bordered on a State Forest) with the pilfered undergarments. Easy enough! Whew! However, we had a serious problem that we were not yet aware of...two of the older guys in the neighborhood (they were probably 10-12), David Prince and Bill Freels, had seen us steal the underwear! Then, they shadowed us down into the woods!

Once we thought we were a safe distance down into the forest, about 400-500 feet from my house, we immediately stripped off our clothes and donned Mrs. Jones underwear. We pranced about for a few minutes in the forest sporting her bras and panties, giggling like schoolgirls, unaware that we had an audience the whole time! Well, the thrill quickly wore off and we buried the stolen merchandise under the base of an overturned tree. We put our clothes back on and walked out of the woods with a sense of accomplishment, ready for a new adventure. Little did we realize...

When we got back out to the street by my house, the older kids who had followed us, David and Bill, confronted us! Oh shit! They saw us! "Scott S______! Steve W___! We SAW you guys steal Mrs. Jones underwear off the clothesline and THEN we saw you go down into the woods to TRY IT ON!" We were ruined.

We now were in the custody of the older, bigger, meaner kids and couldn't escape! About this time, David and Bill got a brilliant idea (sadistic fuckers!). I think David had been watching too much "Perry Mason" or something. David said, "Hey Bill, WE SHOULD PUT THEM ON TRIAL!" Bill thought this was a brilliant idea too and instantly proceeded to go throughout our neighborhood, rounding up all the other kids who were out playing. He managed to round up another six or seven kids. This could not be going any worse for Scott and I.

David then had all the kids sit down in one of the neighbors' yards, to play the part of the jury. David played both judge and prosecutor. David and Bill then recanted to the other kids in our neighborhood how Scott and I had stolen the Mrs. Jones' underwear, gone into the woods to try it on, etc., etc. As you can imagine, the other kids thought this was hilarious. There was a lot of giggling, whispering and finger-pointing going on during the "trial." Scott and I, faced with our shame, could only hang our heads. Suddenly, the trial was cut short as David suddenly remembered, "Hey, my Fruit Loops are getting soggy! I gotta go!" (I swear!) However, our social status as theiving, cross-dressing little fairies was now thoroughly ensconced in everyone's minds.

The final humiliation was yet to come though. Mrs. Jones had also seen us steal her underwear! She called my mom to "report" me! My mom then had to go buy new bras and panties to replace the ones we had stolen. The worst part was...she made ME take them next door and give them to Mrs. Jones. I had to apologize to my matronly neighbor, who had only ever been really nice to me, for stealing her underwear! Oh, the humiliation of it all!

Needless to say, this episode forever cured me of any desire to cross-dress! We did eventually regain our social status too, and went on to other escapades, but that's another post...
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by Silver » Thu Mar 25, 2004 5:34 pm

Just a couple to start,

bottle rocket wars are not a good idea. Did you know that if a bottle rocket explodes close enough that it can blast a hole in a pair new jeans. Scars almost gone now.

PETA is full of crap, rodeo bulls like their work. You'll never see a happier bull than one who has just thrown you on the ground, stompped on you and rolled you like a puppy with a new ball for about 30 feet.
My grandfather tried to raise me as a Southern gentleman, that means that I can be a real SOB some of the time.

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Post by precipitate » Thu Mar 25, 2004 5:36 pm

> bottle rocket wars are not a good idea.

Roman candle wars, on the other hand, are fucking awesome.

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Post by Markov Chaney » Thu Mar 25, 2004 6:27 pm

Bottle rocket wars may not be a good idea, but they sure are fun!
<fond childhood memories>

I can't believe that my parents actually let us get away with that.

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Post by Zulegoona » Thu Mar 25, 2004 7:06 pm

So as a kid with a small chunk of brass tubing and the powder out of a few shotgun shells the idea of making a cannon seemed like a fun thing to do... only if your intended projectile is a bit to tight in the tube, the same combination can make a swell pipe bomb. Luckily the brass peeled open in the small explosion so the shrapnel was limited to just a few pieces that amazingly missed me and my friend and the damage to the aluminum screen door was easily repaired.

I learned my lesson; ( 1 ) don't blow things up on you front porch
(2 ) when experimenting with things that blow up.
it's a good idea not to stand over it .
( 3 ) My mom had nerves of steel and if I ever
did get hurt it might be a while before she
checked on me.

Thinking about it now maybe I didn't learn the my lessons all that well, I think the balloon filled with propane and butane exploding in a great rolling rising fire ball I set off in the basement came after that.
It burned the cobwebs off the floor joists in a 10 foot diameter.
Mom just opened the basement door and hollered down " you ok " she was amazing.

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Post by robotland » Fri Mar 26, 2004 7:21 am

Another good childhood lesson: Know the difference between "fast-burning" and "slow-burning" fuse, especially when you're standing over a styrofoam cup filled with black powder. You could see the outline of my fingers on my face where I shielded it with my hand....
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Post by dougaldutch » Fri Mar 26, 2004 8:10 am

When I was a kid....
.....we used to get hold of fireworks, rockets, bangers whatever we could get our grubby little paws on. We would roam the streets loooking for targets, each person further emboldended by the success of the last.

Started with lobbing bangers at each other, learnt that lesson though about fast and slow burning fuses. Getting cocky winding mates up about where I was going to throw the banger, all the time the fuse burning closer and closer. Yup it went off in my hand and I just stood there in shock as my entire hand was numb, some small cuts and covered in soot. All sympathy was lost when a couple of rockets had been thrown into a dog shit bin. One bang and the dripping of molten poo and plastic from the bottom of the bin later, any chance of reforming my ways was lost.


So from shit bins to post boxes was an easy step. Much running away was needed after one particularly vintage box suffered 2 rockets, a ThunderKing and a banger and promptly burst into flames. Afterwards we were standing around pondering on the moral ramifications of setting fire to mail when all I see is this rocket being lobbed over mates shoulder, with the cry of "heads up". We were just scattering when the rocket screeches through the middle of us, bounces off the wall and comes back to explode just over our heads, burning debris covering us. From that day on Paranoia was the key to survival, watch everyone all of the time as you never knew where the next hit would come from. To this day a cry of "heads up" will have me on the deck in under a second.

Oh the good old days when loss of a finger or permanent blinding through youthful indiscretion was something that happened to other people.
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Post by III » Fri Mar 26, 2004 8:15 am

>>From that day on Paranoia was the key to survival

ahh - the good old burning man days...
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Post by Zane5100 » Fri Mar 26, 2004 8:18 am

III wrote:>>From that day on Paranoia was the key to survival

ahh - the good old burning man days...
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Post by RingO'Fire » Sat Mar 27, 2004 1:00 pm

robotland wrote:Another good childhood lesson: Know the difference between "fast-burning" and "slow-burning" fuse...
Some other good childhood lessons learned:

When throwing eggs at stationary objects (like parked cars) from the back of a speeding motorcycle, lob the egg out to the side of you. DO NOT hurl the egg ahead of the motorcycle. If you hurl the egg forward...hurl...splat...spray...drive through egg shower!

Along the same line, when throwing a lit string of firecrackers out the top of a speeding MG roadster, throw the firecrackers to the side of you or even behind you. DO NOT throw the firecrackers forward and up, or else they will land inside the vehicle and blow up in your lap! (I had little pinhead blisters on both legs and lots of little burn holes in my clothes).

It's not usually a good idea to use your next door neighbor's (or your cousin's next-door neighbor's) sun room plate glass windows for BB gun target practice. (My uncle had to buy his neighbors new windows for their sun room. He was not a very happy camper.)

Along this same line, it's also not a good idea to use your little brother for BB gun target practice either. (Boy, was my mom pissed!).

When lighting gasoline fires in your driveway, be sure to move the gas can away from the puddle of gasoline before you light the gas on fire. (Fortunely there was just a little "flare" of the end of the flexible nozzle and the thing didn't blow up and kill or maim anyone).

When making a giant pile of dry leaves that you are planning to set on fire, first look UP to make sure there aren't any low-hanging overhead tree branches over the leaf pile. Otherwise, you can set the tree on fire and burn down an acre or two of forest behind your neighborhood. (I was about six. I swiped the matches from my house. My buddy Mike Miller actually lit the fire. We saw what was happening, freaked out, and ran away and hid. It didn't help us any. After the fire department came and put the fire out, my parents took me down to the local Fire & Police station. The police chief scared the b'jesus outta me by threatening to put me in jail for the rest of my life if I "ever did anything like that again").

DO NOT throw M&M's at redneck's cars. This makes them really mad.

If you throw a packed snowball hard enough, you can break the windsheild of a VW bug creeping along on a snow-packed road. If the guy gets out of the car and chases you, circle back around and "flank him" in the direction he was traveling. That way, when he gets back in his car and drives off, you can pelt him with snowballs again! Whee!

More "lessons learned" later...
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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III
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Post by III » Sat Mar 27, 2004 1:09 pm

>>there was just a little "flare" of the end of the flexible nozzle

just fyi - this is what usually happens when gas cans catch on fire. they rarely blow up. unfortunately, most people this happens to try to blow the flame out. this is a bad idea. do *not* try to blow out the lit end of a burning gas can...
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Post by rodent » Sat Mar 27, 2004 1:26 pm

dman wrote:OK, since this IS the Burning Man eplaya.

A few years ago we remodelled the pool in the backyard. Stood empty for a couple of months. Not a large pool, but about 9 feet deep on one end.

<<SNIP>

So, lean tank over side of pool, open valve for a couple of seconds, toss in a match.

WHOMP!
you are now my new personal hero.

---
rodent (putting the eek in geek)

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Post by calsur » Sat Mar 27, 2004 9:30 pm

RingO'Fire,

Your a real sick little puppy! Keep up the good work

When lighting an M-80 with a match then covering your ears, make sure the match is OUT! It cost me half the hair on the side of my head at first and then all when my Mom shaved it all off.

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