I can’t handle the weeks without Pissing Contest. Especially when they’re holiday related ones. (Not that this one is. But if there isn’t a Halloween one this year, I will riot.)

So, no actual contest tonight? I was hoping for something Harry Potter related. As I always am. Sigh.

Also, note that for this subject in particular, the employee really has to have screwed up in a unique and interesting way for anyone to have a reason to care about the story. If you specifically requested a sandwich with no mayo, and a server then brought you a sandwich with mayo on it, well, I’m very sad for you,…

I am an idiot. He had actually spelled it “Worcester,” and somehow—I have no idea why—I corrected it to a wrong spelling. I’ve seen that name a hundred times, I know how it’s pronounced, I’ve BEEN there before, ffs. I have no idea what the hell happened when I was editing that story.

lye. the answer at that point is always lye. and maybe a blender

It absolutely is. “I don’t want your meatballs” is my new favorite way to tell someone to fuck off.

“He’d mixed a half-gallon of bleach with a half-gallon of ammonia in the mop bucket.”

Let’s just agree that it is.

This isn’t my story but my roommate’s....It turns out that she I was a bit dry...

This isn’t my story but my roommate’s. It’s too good not to share though. This would have been junior year of high school I believe in one of our other friend’s basements.

oh god oh god oh god

Um, pregnancy.

Got a concussion by hitting the wall. The guy asked: “Are you ok?” I moan, mid orgasm/ head pain: “Keep going”. We finish and then he, being a neurosurgeon, proceeds to bring me to the hospital and give me a free CT scan. He’s one of my best friends now!

As the injured part noted, at least I was keeping on with the perceived agenda of the collective...

That sounds like a good reason to miss a feminist meeting.

This is an important story that should always be used as a warning. They should teach it in SexEd in non-crazy religious states because it’s a DIRE warning. Or heck, teach it in Alabama because it ruins every pretense of sexiness.

The third or so time I had sex with a new guy I was really into, I was on top and was riding pretty hard, and smashed my face into his forehead by accident. And got a bloody nose. And bled all over him and his bedsheets.

Torn foreskin... that wasn’t pretty but we kept our calm there was blood everywhere. and I had texted my feminist collective earlier stating that I would be arriving late to our meeting because I was hum... entering the bone zone. Fair to say that I didn’t make it to the meeting and my message to warn them was like…