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Storytime

Copypasta of a person’s past experience or events that is so absurd it became a meme of its own. Usually untrue stories that tries to circle jerk opinions.


Okay so I actually dated Thomas a couple of years ago

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    byu/bip-artis-anic from discussion
    inFauxmoi
    Okay so I actually dated Thomas a couple of years ago and I can chime in on this!
    
    He was kinda quiet - the type of person who doesn't really lead any conversations, you have to put most of the effort in.
    
    He's one of those "born in the wrong generation" guys who loves old vinyls and vintage things. He's big into motorbikes and likes fixing them up for a hobby. And back then, he lived in a house in a nice part of London, but it wasn't like a huge house. Just a kinda standard London terraced house that would have once been for a working class family - 2 rooms up and down, a small "yard" but no garden or anything, and he shared it with a flatmate who was a childhood friend.
    
    So while he is obviously more wealthy and famous than the average person, he seemed kinda down to earth and modest.
    
    However he also never brushes his teeth, to the point he told me one of his back teeth fell out during makeup a few years ago. And his personal hygiene is kinda lacking.
    
    Also he loves milk. Like he drinks milk all the time and he'd always have a glass of milk on the bedside table when he was in bed. (After sex one time, I made him laugh while he was drinking milk and he spat milk all over my naked body and that is all I can think about when I see him in photos / posters now 🥲)
    
    So yeah, when I heard about him being with musks ex wife it felt like an odd pairing to me, but my assumption was that she's probably someone who is happy taking the lead and being the "trousers" in the relationship. Or it's possible she's very quiet too and they just have a lot of comfortable silences together.
    
    Either way, I hope he's started brushing his teeth and showering these days. And I hope she likes milk.

    You enter a Subway store, and it’s empty, slightly too cool to be comfortable

      Subway Experience copypasta written by Asterion

      Written by u/Aetrion under a TIL post of Subway closing their restaurants, it has become a copypasta most commonly known as “The Subway Experience”.

      You enter a Subway store, and it's empty, slightly too cool to be comfortable, slightly too damp to feel clean, and slightly too bright to be inviting. There is one lonely employee, who does their best not to look at you for those awkward 10 seconds while you walk to the counter before you're close enough to order. You know you interrupted them while they were doing something else. They give their greeting, ask you what you want, you begin scanning their workspace. The bins of raw ingredients are sitting askew, separated by steel walls, yet careless hands have dropped some of each on all the others. The preparation area is littered with crumbs and bits of lettuce, maybe the odd olive or onion piece here or there that has wedged itself into the crack between the food trays and the cutting board. This could have been cleaned up while nobody was there, but the employee doesn't care. For one second you wonder how it got messy in the first place given the lack of customers. Maybe it's staged, like those first few pennies in a homeless person's hat. Do you want it toasted? You do, but that would mean standing here for a minute with the stranger you disturbed waiting for the bread to be sanitized. You observe the employee assemble your sandwich, making sure to painstakingly put each ingredient on only one half of the sub. You ask for sauce and they squeeze it out of a disgusting rubber nipple, then toss the bottle back into its bin like they don't want to touch it either. Are they wearing those gloves to keep the food clean, or their hands? You pay, the sandwich heavily sags into a flimsy garbage bag it doesn't really seem to fit in and is handed to you. You walk out, into the light of the sun. The colors suddenly seem real again and you become aware of your breathing because the air feels rich and life giving somehow. The distant memory of tasty subs that brought you here lingers just beyond the edge of clear recollection, like an old acquaintance who's face you can't picture anymore. You carry your catch to the car. When did it get this bad?
      You enter a Subway store, and it's deserted, slightly too cool to be comfortable, slightly too damp to feel clean, and slightly too bright to be inviting. There is one lonely employee, who sheepishly pockets their tiny electronic escape window as the sound of the door drags them back to reality. They do their best not to look at you for those awkward 10 seconds while you walk to the counter before you're close enough to order. They give their greeting, ask you what you want, you begin scanning their workspace.
      
      The bins of raw ingredients are sitting askew, separated by steel walls, yet careless hands have dropped some of each on all the others. The preparation area is littered with crumbs and bits of lettuce, maybe the odd olive or onion piece here or there that has wedged itself into the crack between the food trays and the cutting board. This could have been cleaned up while nobody was here, but minimum wage buys minimum effort. For one second you wonder how it got messy in the first place given the lack of customers. Maybe it's staged, like those first few pennies in a homeless person's hat.
      
      Do you want it toasted? You do, so you spend a minute in silence with the stranger you disturbed, waiting for the bread to be sanitized. You feign interest in the cookies while the infrasound hum of some overworked piece of machinery builds to an unscratchable itch just behind your forehead. The toaster mercifully releases its hostage, and it is splayed open before you while you call out soggy vegetables to abuse it with.
      
      You observe as the employee assembles your sandwich, making sure to painstakingly put each ingredient on only one half of the sub. You ask for sauce and they squeeze it out of a disgusting rubber nipple, then toss the bottle back into its bin like they don't want to touch it either. It weezingly inhales the kitchen scraps and windex aroma that permeates the store. Are they wearing those gloves to keep the food clean, or their hands? You pay, the sandwich heavily sags into a flimsy garbage bag it doesn't really seem to fit in and is handed to you.
      
      You walk into the light of the sun. The colors suddenly seem real again and you become aware of your breathing because the air outside feels rich and life giving somehow. The distant memory of tasty subs that brought you here lingers just beyond the edge of clear recollection, like an old acquaintance whose face you can't picture anymore. You carry your catch to the car. When did it get this bad? 

      I owed a friend £22.91 for an Uber.

        Ken Change story of "I owed a friend £22.91 for an Uber.
I transferred them £22.19 by accident."

        Created by Ken Cheng, a comedian on LinkedIn, its a circlejerk story meant to poke fun at the hustler mentality of most LinkedIn users.

        I owed a friend £22.91 for an Uber.
        
        I transferred them £22.19 by accident.
        
        They never brought it up.
        
        Nobody would bring up 72p.
        
        I did it on purpose. 
        
        I've been doing it for years.
        
        Every time I have to transfer someone money, I "accidentally" leave off a bit.
        
        I call it the Plausible Deniability Typo.
        
        £24.37 instead of £24.73.
        £9.38 instead of £9.83.
        £3.46 instead of £3.64.
        
        Sometimes if I'm feeling really risky, I'll do £18.54 instead of £19.54.
        
        They'd look like a complete tool to quibble over this.
        
        Instead, they are a tool in a different way.
        
        A tool for me to get to the top.
        
        I've probably made £100 over 5 years.

        I think I fucked up… (Balatro at casino)

          Guys, the other day I was playing at a casino, you know, using all my +18 Balatro gambling skills, as Pegi advertises, but it was weird.
          
          First there were no bosses, second I was playing with other players (since when Balatro has multiplayer?), and finally, everyone was using the same deck, and neither a fancy one, I kept asking for a Yellow Deck, but everyone was like “Why do you keep asking for 10 dollars? Do we look like a bank?”
          
          Anyway, things go well, and I keep winning chips, some folks were confused that my chips keep growing when I was not even “betting” (I don’t even know what that means. They keep saying you needed to take chips and put in some kind of hot pot? Sounded they either eat chips or smoke it, which sound horrible and stupid.).
          
          The problem was, I was becoming bored of playing the same basic hands, so at some point I had enough, and put in the table a Banana, Ramen, a dice, a heartstone and some half-eaten popcorn. I pulled a booster pack, picked a polychrome ace heart card and used four death cards to make a Five Flush. I know, I know, not very optimal, I should have kidnapped four burger kings and a mime.
          
          So suddenly, everyone is screaming at me for being a cheater, even though I keep telling my hand was a legit hand as I learned in Balatro, the gambling teacher game for adults, the casino refuses to me to pay me my money I won fair and just (Heck, is only 2 dollars for my two hands. I don’t why they keep counting nervously my trillion chips and sobbing half-way everytime I ask for my money), and now guys in black suits and dark glasses keep chasing me and keep repeating something something about “Level 3 reality threat”. What do I do? I just want to play Balatro, but they keep hijacking my internet and backseating me into playing flushes, is a fucking nightmare.

          Rabies

            Rabies. It's exceptionally common, but people just don't run into the animals that carry it often. Skunks especially, and bats.
            
            Let me paint you a picture.
            
            You go camping, and at midday you decide to take a nap in a nice little hammock. While sleeping, a tiny brown bat, in the "rage" stages of infection is fidgeting in broad daylight, uncomfortable, and thirsty (due to the hydrophobia) and you snort, startling him. He goes into attack mode.
            
            Except you're asleep, and he's a little brown bat, so weighs around 6 grams. You don't even feel him land on your bare knee, and he starts to bite. His teeth are tiny. Hardly enough to even break the skin, but he does manage to give you the equivalent of a tiny scrape that goes completely unnoticed.
            
            Rabies does not travel in your blood. In fact, a blood test won't even tell you if you've got it. (Antibody tests may be done, but are useless if you've ever been vaccinated.)
            
            You wake up, none the wiser. If you notice anything at the bite site at all, you assume you just lightly scraped it on something.
            
            The bomb has been lit, and your nervous system is the wick. The rabies will multiply along your nervous system, doing virtually no damage, and completely undetectable. You literally have NO symptoms.
            
            It may be four days, it may be a year, but the camping trip is most likely long forgotten. Then one day your back starts to ache... Or maybe you get a slight headache?
            
            At this point, you're already dead. There is no cure.
            
            (The sole caveat to this is the Milwaukee Protocol, which leaves most patients dead anyway, and the survivors mentally disabled, and is seldom done).
            
            There's no treatment. It has a 100% kill rate.
            
            Absorb that. Not a single other virus on the planet has a 100% kill rate. Only rabies. And once you're symptomatic, it's over. You're dead.
            
            So what does that look like?
            
            Your headache turns into a fever, and a general feeling of being unwell. You're fidgety. Uncomfortable. And scared. As the virus that has taken its time getting into your brain finds a vast network of nerve endings, it begins to rapidly reproduce, starting at the base of your brain... Where your "pons" is located. This is the part of the brain that controls communication between the rest of the brain and body, as well as sleep cycles.
            
            Next you become anxious. You still think you have only a mild fever, but suddenly you find yourself becoming scared, even horrified, and it doesn't occur to you that you don't know why. This is because the rabies is chewing up your amygdala.
            
            As your cerebellum becomes hot with the virus, you begin to lose muscle coordination, and balance. You think maybe it's a good idea to go to the doctor now, but assuming a doctor is smart enough to even run the tests necessary in the few days you have left on the planet, odds are they'll only be able to tell your loved ones what you died of later.
            
            You're twitchy, shaking, and scared. You have the normal fear of not knowing what's going on, but with the virus really fucking the amygdala this is amplified a hundred fold. It's around this time the hydrophobia starts.
            
            You're horribly thirsty, you just want water. But you can't drink. Every time you do, your throat clamps shut and you vomit. This has become a legitimate, active fear of water. You're thirsty, but looking at a glass of water begins to make you gag, and shy back in fear. The contradiction is hard for your hot brain to see at this point. By now, the doctors will have to put you on IVs to keep you hydrated, but even that's futile. You were dead the second you had a headache.
            
            You begin hearing things, or not hearing at all as your thalamus goes. You taste sounds, you see smells, everything starts feeling like the most horrifying acid trip anyone has ever been on. With your hippocampus long under attack, you're having trouble remembering things, especially family.
            
            You're alone, hallucinating, thirsty, confused, and absolutely, undeniably terrified. Everything scares the literal shit out of you at this point. These strange people in lab coats. These strange people standing around your bed crying, who keep trying to get you "drink something" and crying. And it's only been about a week since that little headache that you've completely forgotten. Time means nothing to you anymore. Funny enough, you now know how the bat felt when he bit you.
            
            Eventually, you slip into the "dumb rabies" phase. Your brain has started the process of shutting down. Too much of it has been turned to liquid virus. Your face droops. You drool. You're all but unaware of what's around you. A sudden noise or light might startle you, but for the most part, it's all you can do to just stare at the ground. You haven't really slept for about 72 hours.
            
            Then you die. Always, you die.
            
            And there's not one... fucking... thing... anyone can do for you.
            
            Then there's the question of what to do with your corpse. I mean, sure, burying it is the right thing to do. But the fucking virus can survive in a corpse for years. You could kill every rabid animal on the planet today, and if two years from now, some moist, preserved, rotten hunk of used-to-be brain gets eaten by an animal, it starts all over.
            
            So yeah, rabies scares the shit out of me. And it's fucking EVERYWHERE. (Source: Spent a lot of time working with rabies. Would still get my vaccinations if I could afford them.)

            My computer is more like a skinned man strapped into life support

              My desktop has the access panel and face panel removed. It somehow fixed a problem, so it stays that way. I've long since forgotten which cords do what, and I have a little plastic pig glued on top of the tower. Removing the pig is grounds for violence because it also somehow makes it work. I can't turn the computer off normally anymore, I have to power cycle it. It has long since stopped throwing error messages, which concerns me. It runs like a broken legged arthritic tortoise going uphill and I can't play anything newer that Attila Total War. I feel like a tech priest when it has a fit because it's like "beg it to work while tapping the case, if that fails, unplug it for 7 minutes, no more, no less, then plug it back in and wait."
              
              My computer is more like a skinned man strapped into life support, desperately wishing for death, but always denied because his pain serves a greater purpose: porn