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I had a pet hampster when I was younger, around 6 lets say. One was mine one was my brothers. I named mine mat and I loved it, it was cool, used to roll around the kitchen in it's hampster ball aww it was so cute. We even had a hampster tunnel system thing for them to go through, made me happy. One day I decided to put both mine and my brothers hampsters on the kitchen table, and you'll never guess what happened.
They both rolled off the kitchen table, hit the floor, and died. I don't remember if my brother was angry, but I was sad. I can't remember if we buried them or what, but dahm... not a happy way to die... R.I.P Mat and my brothers one.

Once upon a time, i with my brother went to a bar to celebrate his birthday, it was the january 3rd and it was -30C* outside, so it was pretty cold, after we finished eating various crap and went outside to get some fresh air, my brother was attacked by a raging diarrhea, and the smartes thing he could do was to go behind the some random guys garrage and shit there while sitting on the box-spring left outside, but it was pretty bouncy, so when he was done and tryed to get up, he flipped over and fell on his back directly into fresh crap poodle which almost instantly froze inside his coat because -35 outside, so he was unable to remove and shitsticle on his back and we just kept wandering around the city like that.

i am so addicted to video games that every time i see / heard "story of my life" i immediately think of tidus in final fantasy X

Ever had a dream where you are in public in your pyjamas (not on purpose)? It happened to me in real life.

We were flying around the world from New Zealand, and stopped in Los Angeles, very jet-lagged. Around 10:30am a frantic knock on the hotel door woke us up. We opened the door, and amidst a lot of smoke the security guard told us to evacuate. We raced into the lift, went straight to the bottom, hearts racing, expecting to see something like the Towering Inferno. Instead, we exited the lift on the ground floor, in our pyjamas, with everyone walking around normally, not panicked, and obviously with no fire alarm. The bottom three floors of our hotel was also a shopping center.

After some confusion (we're tired, we have strong accents, we look weird in our pyjamas), we went to the check-in desk, and they had no idea about any fire alarm. They were about to have us arrested, when the security guard showed up. Apparently there was a fault in the fire alarm system, so the only people who knew about the "fire" were the people on our floor. The "fire" was smoke from a TV in the room next to us that had short-circuited.

So I've lived the pyjamas in a shopping mall dream! Actually it was kind of liberating, as after being extremely embarrassed at first, I eventually worked out that (a) nobody knew me - this was Los Angeles; and (b) I couldn't do anything about it.

And anyway, who needs pyjamas?!

View attached image.

tl;dr version: Dated an international model. Fashion industry makes people sick mentally and physically.

I dated a model for 2 years. To be exact an international model. She would go to other countries for weeks and do legit model stuff appearing in magazines and shows, hanging around some famous people (sit at a table that was next to Dicaprio's .- yeah the guy who finally got an Oscar) etc. Good for me eh? No, not this kind of story.

I met her just before she was picked up by a modelling agency and dated her for the person she was and didn't really care about the modelling thing, just thought "wow yeah if you like it go for it". So anyway first time going abroad for some castings were coming up and she was like getting really thin, like way crazy thin. At some point she told me that she has an eating disorder - bulimia to be exact (she had it before she met me). Being stupid at that time I didn't quite get how serious it was and I told her that yeah will fix this and she will get over it.

She went to the model thing and came back and went again etc. But it made things worse. She became even more obsessed with the unnatural standards that the modelling has and most of the time it was all fake (her photos were retouched so much I didn't even recognize her in some of them). The worst part is that the models she would share an apartment most of them if not all had some eating disorders and were unnaturally dieting and eating.

It might not sound that horrible, but it's not only the physical health that got affected by this, but mentally as well she would have breakdowns where she would be all normal and the next moment she couldn't stand herself and wouldn't listen to reason. Like talking to a total different person. She started to twist my words to fit the image that she had for herself. So at some point between the modelling trips I told her to start seeking some help (she agreed).

After getting some serious medical advice from doctors and warnings she stopped modelling after awhile and started to eat again (forcefully and by schedule, because it's hard to change your mind if you obsessed about something) and focused on dealing with her disease. She would try to occasionally describe how it feels. It's not just some stupid thing that you think about and just let go. Your brain and body are suddenly wired wrong and all you can hear in your head are forceful thoughts that you just can't block out and they muffle everything and everyone around and you can't concentrate.

She would get better with some setbacks, but she wasn't ok and at some point she started to blame me for some of this (which is partially my fault because I was so stupid in the beginning and didn't get she was sick). I felt like the villain in this story and I felt horrible about it, especially that I couldn't fix her like I said in the beginning. Eventually, it fell apart and we just remained good friends. She is doing better now, but not cured and it could get better (or worse), you really never get cured and could relapse anytime.

Now if I look at models and fashion pictures I see only vacant eyes and sadness in the pictures. The industry really destroys people both mentally and physically.

i have 29 years old, live with my mom and 1 brother and 1 sister and my house have 3 dogs, i have fear of dogs because when i children , i have a popsicle so a dog start chasing me so i drop the popsicle thinking the dog wanted but him dont stoped so i fall and the dog bit my belly and i never forget it, i have problems in relationships not besause that but another problems and the rest of my life is like a snow ball of desasters crushing me. i have happy moments in my life too but i dont give the worth and then passing by, i have cool things too but i throw away because im too stupy for realize that really important. sorry the english im so tired feel free for fix the gramma.

My dog ate feces. I was mad. he ate he's. I was mad. My dog dont give a damn...
I love my dog.

The story of my life: stress out about the smallest things and decisions while analyzing every tiny problem strenuously. However, when it comes to really important life decisions, panic and make a haste decision. So far, I am still alive (on the outside).

I'm a guy. I regularly get long hair by the later half of the year (shoulder length) cause I get too lazy to cut it.

Always around then, I get called Miss, or even 'Lady'. I don't even look like a girl, which makes me wonder what kind of ugly girls these people have seen before in their life.

I'm only now just starting to be okay again after a couple decades of not being okay. It feels amazing.

Once, when I was a kid, my mom went grocery shopping, and when she came home, she asked me to bring the groceries upstairs to the kitchen. Little did I know that my dog had been digging in the trash up there and knocked some stuff onto the ground that was hard to see with the linoleum we had at the time. I took the first load of groceries up, and little old me stepped on something. I was in such a state of shock that I didn't notice I'd cut myself. I saw some blood dripping onto the floor but I was like "no big deal, sis go get mom please". Turns out, there was the metal rim of a tealight candle embedded in my foot. I was given 10 stitches and a lot of ice cream. I also didn't have to go on the run we had to do every day at school for two weeks because I was healing. It was January, so it was still snowy as dicks outside.
And now, every so often when it's cold, my scar hurts like hell.

Hump for gas

I was sleeping with my girlfriend. Around morning I needed to change my position because I didn't feel comfortable anymore (I don't know, I tend to change positions like 10-15 times durimg a night or I won't sleep a minite - wonder how many people have the same problem)... So I had to change position and I've felt my girlfriend cuddle me and a few seconds later she started to snoggle me (don't know if this is the right word for it when somebody scratches you so softly that they almost touch you and it gives you tickles. But let's say it is or it may sound unappropriate :P) and it was the best snoggling ever. Really. The. Best. I was just in heaven feeling on my back her hairy hand... and wet O.o It turned out that I had the best snoggling ever from her cat.

A fun short and old story about a teacher of mine :)
He was/is a music-teacher and he was very shorttempered. He always screamed because noone took musical education serious and from my point of few now i guess he was really lost in that job and couldnt do anything else but it ruined his life ;)
Well anyways. We had sports and directly afterwards music ed. I was pretty tired and everyone else was talkin in class. Really everyone was chitchatting and not listening to the teacher. As i was really tired and just wanted to be left alone, i put my hands on my forehead and kinda 'napped'. Also i really fell "asleep" (not really just like totally spaced out), because the next thing i felt was my neighbour hitting me with his ellbow awake.
What i didnt noticed was that our teacher began to play the piano and as he played still noone was listening and they kept talking... until he exploded. He screamed and insulted everyone. It was like:
"you illaterate kids, you dont even know what art is, you cant keep your mouths shut for 3 minutes, its unbeliveable.. everyone of you will just be pleased with cheap popmusic and never understand classical music... except for me .. look at me .. thinking about the music and really takin it in deep (dont know how to translate it.. in german the word he used was "sinnieren" which means the above ;) ).. thats absolutely improving your mark! everyone could take a leaf out my book."

well.. i was pretty perplexed.. after the class i burst out into laughter like never before ;) basically i got a nice mark for sleeping in class ;D

btw thanks for the ga in that thread, but not my kinda game :) gl everyone
and thanks to everyone for the storys :D it was really fun to read!

I fell in love with a girl. Pursued her for 5 years while also pursuing a degree in engineering. I'm now about to graduate and have a job lined up, seems like the time to finally pop the question. I have a really nice ring, a 2 carat flawless diamond on a platinum band from Tiffany's. About 2 weeks before I plan to move things forward, she breaks things up. She still considers me her best friend and wants to continue to be friends, it's rather odd. Tomorrow would have been the day.

I got to go to New York City last year with a couple of my friends for the US Open. It was such a great experience. I couldn't believe how hot it was. You would think NYC is in the north so it'll be a bit colder? Nope, it definitely was hot at that time. I normally don't travel without my family so I wasn't sure how much fun I would have had. But it turned out to be an amazing experience and I would go back in a heart beat. Got to try the subway system down there and I'm glad my friend knew how to navigate with it because I don't. The US Open it self was amazing. Got to see so many tennis matches. And boy was it crowded. We got to see all of the big stars, including the big 4 (Novak, Roger, Andy, and Rafael). Those center court matches at night is an amazing experience. First night match we got to see was Nadal losing in 5 sets and going into like 1 am, quite amazing. Definitely should go if you ever get a chance.

It's a sorta disgusting story, but anyway.

In the third of fourth grade in the Elementary school, we went onto a ... (I don't know the English term - it's when the whole class goes on a ~2 week trip, usually in some facility near nature, there may be school for an hour or two a day and the rest is walking around the place and playing games and stuff. There are some teachers and few parents to help out). I was in a room with 3 other guys including Thomas whose mother was also accompanying us on the trip.
One morning I wake up and as I'm getting to my senses the first thing I see is the guy on the bed next to me looking horrified, so I look towards Thomas' bed and see it covered in shit. Like, the mattress and the blanket and the pillows full of shit-smears. On the ground next to the bed there's also a lot of shit and shit-footprints and a naked crying Thomas, also covered in shit from his neck to his toes. I remember thinking that's like the ultimate humiliation a kid could endure when the doors opened and his mom entered and before even seeing him exclaimed "Tommy, come take your suppository". Then we were exorcised from the room for a day while they cleaned stuff up.
To our credit we didn't make Thomas' life a living hell after it, which surprises me because kids are cruel as fuck.

That's my shit story, thank you for reading.

Just a short bittersweet story of my life.

When I was 5, my country was struck by war. Me and my family were forced out of our home and became refugees. In elementary school, I was always among the poorest kids in class, not a great thing for one's confidence and self-esteem...

Despite all the hardships, we managed to build a new home. I started practicing basketball, eventually becoming two-time state champion in youth categories. Later on, I graduated from college and now I am a high school English and History teacher with a knack for 4X Civilization-style video games. Oh, and I'm about to get married in July. :)

Sometimes I share my life story with my students who feel like the whole world is against them. It's really all about the willpower. Don't despair, dedicate yourself to something positive and good things will inevitably happen. :)

Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.

Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. I set the "winner" aside in a victor's pile until the entire population of the package has gone through one round, then square off the winners against each other.

I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theatre of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to:

M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc.
Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A.,

...along with a 3x5 card reading: "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free half-pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.

There can be only one.

nah :D łap muzyczkę:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=85RNTSDcWPo

I just discovered a really cool life hack recently. Give it a try.

Simply take a deep breath and stretch.

Did you think of anything whole you're doing that? It's really good if you keep doing it from time to time. Your memory will improve. Your laziness will go away. Simple trick that most people don't realize it exist.

i had a life before i played dota,
it ruined my college life after i played dota,
i lost my girlfriend bcoz of dota,
i gained weight bcoz of dota,
i lost my job bcoz of dota,
now i am selling my stuff on market bcoz i know i play dota,
i want to leave dota but i cant escape playing dota,
6000 hours on my account and i still want to play dota,
my beard is big as hell bcoz i play dota,
i want to quit,but i cant quit dota,
its all true,
bcoz it ruined my life bcoz i play dota,
SO IF U WANT A LIFE,JUST STOP PLAYING DOTA!!

10000 hours finally i HAVE STOPPED PLAYING DOTA!!!

What a fun topic. I love stories as well.. which is probably how I ended with such a passion for genealogy.. so here's a little story from that:

I'm an amateur genealogist and that all started because of a story I heard about my great-grand uncle. Basic version is:
My Mother: "I remember my father telling me, as a little fellow of about 5, walking to the train station every day with his grandmother. She would wait for the train to come in, and when her son didn't get off it. She would walk home again. Finally one day the parish priest got word that on the trip home Alfred caught the Spanish Flu, and died. He was about 2500km from and now he would never make it.

That story stuck in my head and heart. When I would walk through the graveyard where my mom grew up, I would always pause at my g,ma+'s headstone. Though her son was buried somewhere far away, she had his details engraved on her headstone. I always felt so sad.. he was only 29.. seemed so young. Always made me sad. Also, I think my love of trains happened because of that story.

Years later when I was much more into genealogy, I had tracked down Alfred's attestation papers (draft, basically).. and ordered a copy of them. At that same time I met a cousin who was from quite far away. Her father was Alfred's brother and with her she'd brought an old family photo-album. She said, we'd probably seen these photos, but just in case, she wanted to show us. We hadn't seen any of the photos, and as I flipped through looking at the faces of people I'd been hearing about my whole life.. I came across a photo of Alfred. I was shocked... and then on the next page... another photo! For so many years my heart had ached for the boy who never made it home.. and died so young.. and here he was looking at me. I never believe I'd ever see a photo of him. I cried.

Shortly afterwards, his attestation papers came in the mail and to my surprise they did no say what I was expecting. The papers, from Aug. '18 told me that Alfred was discharged from the army, 'medically unfit'. Medically unfit in Aug '18 and dead in Dec '18. WTH?! Also, he was 39 years old. Age/date errors on old headstones are not that uncommon.
That mystery was with me for a long time until I was able to order his army records. That left me with more of a mystery however. The file was simple. It said he'd be picked up for his draft duty and was found to be 'cerebrally challenged'. Discharged shortly thereafter.
This story was not lining up with what I'd been told my whole life. So, I tracked down where he died specially, and ordered his death records.

Ninety years almost to the day he died, I got that package in the mail. I was standing in my kitchen as I read the coroners report. It told me that he'd disappeared into brush for three weeks and he had been found wandering around delusional. He was taken into care but died shortly afterwards. Death cause listed as: Death due to exposure. I bawled.

I had no idea what drove this man to be wandering in Northern Manitoba, in winter... but what a way to die. I cried. Then thought, 90 years later, someone cares about you. Some day I'd like to visit his grave. But the only time I see Manitoba... I'm flying over :| Some day. In the end, the truth somehow turned out every bit as tragic as the original story. I'm not sure why the family history was 'rewritten', but I'm happy I know the truth.
Lesson: Don't believe all family lore! Stories are wonderful, but just because something is always said, does not make it so.
That got really long o.o sorry, the story itself didn't seem long in my head when I started telling it. Here's an otter:

View attached image.

One day, I decided to learn a language that "most" people in the United States have even heard of, Esperanto. Nun, mi uzas gxin preskaux cxiutage. :)

Very short story: About a year ago I took a cat from the street, cured him from ear mites and we lived happily ever after (he's fucking annoying, but very funny and I wake up with him against my side every day;). Profile pic kinda related.

View attached image.

I'm a simple hungarian. If I see a polish person, I feel delighted. And I cannot resist the temptation to write this sentence: Polak, Węgier, dwa bratanki, i do szabli, i do szklanki. :)

Nowadays, I'm preparing to preliminary examination to PhD, where I'd like to continue my studies as a linguist. And as a linguist I plan to learn polish one day. :) Well, I know this is not a real story, but right now these things are on my mind.