ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

Rogue Cab Driver

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 04:33:00 +0000

I never wrote about how one time Marina and I went to a show, and then I drove her back to Junctionview in Grandview to get her car, and as I was driving us South down Northwest Blvd. a cab was coming directly at us on the wrong side of the road. This was South of 5th avenue and perhaps North of 3rd... so there was a grassy meridian with trees in the middle of Northwest Blvd. This cab was entirely on the wrong side of the road, not just the wrong lane. I think I honked and pulled over until he passed.

You kidding me?

Tonsillitis W/O Tonsils

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 04:20:00 +0000

I have Tonsillitis and Strep Throat right now even though I got my tonsils removed in 2009.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!

Strangers in the Night

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 21:17:00 +0000

no ones posted in a long time, and i figured we should try to keep it alive. Even though I'm positive S. Hamilton has a lot of "Are You Fucking Kidding Me!?" incidents.

BRB, OUT SHOOTING DINNER

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 20:31:00 +0000

"I'm duck hunting right now lol"

That's a real text I just got from my sister. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!

She's been hanging out with this guy who lives in the woods and hunts...real outdoorsy type. Here are some photos illustrating the goings on she's been part of:

While typing this AYFKM moment, she sent a response to my request for photographic proof and had this to say, "I'm laying inside a camouflage hut/sleeping bag thing in the middle of a corn field." .....what. .... .. . ?!?!?!. ... ... YEAH.

WTF!

"I swear I only PEED!"

noreply@blogger.com (A. K. ) — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 19:46:00 +0000

It all happened one magical Sunday evening. It was my sophomore year of college and I had returned from a weekend in Columbus to the two bedroom apartment that Jen and I shared. Her best friend from home, Andy, had spent the weekend with her and his friend, Allison, had come along- she stayed with other friends in Pittsburgh. As soon as I got back they were all leaving to go to the Indian buffet at a local restaurant but seeing as I just ate with my family, I declined to go with them. An hour or so later, I was sitting on the couch mindless doing homework when Allison comes busting into the front door, she gives me a nervous and yet-somehow indescribable look as she runs past me in the living room and makes a mad dash to the bathroom. Not being a stranger to weird happenings, I went back to my homework. A few minutes later, Jen and Andy walked in the front door. I gave Jen the, "WTF" face and she shrugged. So for the next HOUR we all chitchatted and watched trashy T.V. --all the while Allison remained in the bathroom. Andy made several attempts to see if she needed anything and after several declines, she asked for her book bag filled with all of her over night stuff. Another 15-20 minutes went by when all of us started to worry. ( I wasn't worried. I have no heart, I just wanted these strangers out of my apartment).
FINALLY this girl comes out of the bathroom in a completely different outfit. She says to Jen, "Girl, I need to tell you something" Jen- not noticing the obvious hint that this was a PRIVATE matter said,
"What is it?"
(After some thought, Jen knew better-she just didn't care for this girl at all)

The air was filled with tension and a certain odor...after a few seconds (WHICH SEEMED LIKE YEARS) she uttered,

"I shit my pants. And when I took my pants off it got all over the rug. I tried to wash it in the bathtub with some shampoo but I don't think I got it all out. I'm sorry. "

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

We all stared at her in disbelief. I mean- did this girl really just poop her pants and then get it all over my bathroom like a fucking two year old? Jen somehow managed to say that it was alright and that we'd take care of it. (Later- Jen couldn't believe that I just sat there and stared at the girl. But FUCK- I didn't know her and I sure as hell don't like people that get fecal matter on my personal things).

Awkward goodbyes were given and they were gone.

After making sure they had left the apartment building, we both SCREAMED in disbelief and ran to the bathroom. Sure enough our rug was still sopping wet in our tub and half the bottle of my shampoo was gone. We also came to find that she had used TWO WHOLE ROLLS OF TOILET PAPER. Not only did she try and "clean things up" with this toilet paper but she thought just throwing them in the trashcan would somehow suffice and was sanitary?!!?!? So, not only do we have a poopy rug in the shower but there are huge wads of T.P. covered in feces in our trashcan. I grab a trash bag and some plastic gloves. I roll up the rug and throw it in the bag. We both march down to the dumpster outside all while laughing at this absurd incident and I chuck the rug in the trash.
We decide that we MUST call Mary to tell her all that has happened and she rushes over. We fill her in on the details throughout laughing fits and we all declare that this can now be put on our, THISWOULDONLYHAPPENTOUS list. After still discussing the matter for a while, Mary informs us that she must brave bathroom. Mary does her business and then we hear screaming. We run to her aid as she flings the door open and is screaming, "I SWEAR I ONLY PEED, I ONLY PEED!" We find the the toilet is now frantically overflowing with SHIT FILLED WATER. It was GUSHING onto the floor and it seemed like it would never stop. I grabbed the plunger and went to town. FINALLY it ceased puking up Allison's digested Indian food and Jen, Mary and I were left with an even dirtier bathroom than before. The perfect ending to a shit disaster.

So- thanks, Allison, a girl that I will never meet again in my hopefully long life. A girl that shit her pants, got it on my bathroom rug and then left us another surprise after leaving the city boundaries of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I hope you somehow come across this blog and once again feel the mortification you probably felt that one magical yet very poopy Sunday evening. :)

my alzheimer neighbor broke into my house and took a nap in my sister's bed

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 02:24:00 +0000

soooooooooooooooooo....I was blow drying my hair upstairs and no one was home except for my dad, and I don't know what he was doing, maybe just getting ready for the day? It was probably like 10am on a weekday before I had classes. My dog, Kona started barking a lot, so I just figured someone was at the door and my dad would get it. I kept blow drying my hair. I heard my dad make some kind of bizarre exclamation and some commotion. He was saying, "Dad!?"... So I thought my grandpa was here and I stopped blow drying my hair to see what was happening. There was some strange man in the house, and he didn't feel well. My dad started to put him to bed, in his bed??? but he kept getting up. Then he went and laid in my sister, Zhanna's bed for awhile.

My dad recognized him as the neighbor a few houses down who had alzheimer's. He told me that he was really lucky he didn't shoot him, cuz [my dad] was really close to grabbing his gun, when he saw a strangers legs downstairs. He thought it might be his dad (my grandpa) before he saw his face, just because of the way he was dressed.

Old alzheimer man wouldn't sit still, and kept calling me, "Mickey". He decided he was hungry and wanted lunch. He got out some bread and the knives and started pouring milk on his bread. The knives kinda freaked my dad out. My dad kept trying to tell him that he lived a few houses down and that he was in the wrong house, but he wouldn't listen.

Finally, my dad called the police because he wouldn't leave and was really upset and lost and we didn't know what to do with him and kept sleeping in peoples' beds and making milk sandwiches with all the knives.

So then the cops came, and brought his wife "Mickey" (ooh), but he couldn't find his jacket. So we started looking all over the house for his jacket, and then we found it in my sister's closet. He had taken it off before he took a nap in her bad. lol, and wtf, I know it's sad, but it was totally ridiculous and scary too. My dad almost shot him. I guess he got in through the side gate, and then in through the garage door, and then into the door that leads from the garage to the kitchen!!??? He also tracked mad mud into the house, which the pops was also not happy about hahah.

TO PHILLIP!

noreply@blogger.com (Marina Goldshteyn) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 12:44:00 +0000

Upon my return to the states from the European nation, my method of travel was primarily by train to get to the airport in Frankfurt, Germany. This was a very nice, fast train, that for 3 hours (3 hours and 20 minutes for this ride), seemed to really have no rules.

As we were getting on the train a group of guys, probably all around the age of 28, that just got back from a soccer game, were right behind us getting on the same cart. Not only did they have mugs filled with beer, but they were carrying a very cute mini-keg with them that they continued pouring into their huge mugs even as we were stepping off the track. Of course they sit right behind my mom and I, and not knowing a single spat of German, I just translated everything they were saying into drunken gibberish, which in the end, it probably was. There was a nice array of people on the train, and sitting next to us/ in front of the drunk men, was 3 nice little German business men typing away on their laptops minding their own business and probably thinking about how much money they have. NOW this is where it all gets sandwiched together.......one of the drunken baboons (the most drunk out of all of them) starts walking up and down the aisles saying hello to everyone and offering beer from the mini-keg. My mom says no, and as do i because really, i just didnt want him to pour mini keg all over me on a train that wasnt going to stop for 3 hours. He accepts my rejection and moves on to the businessmen. They also deny the beer, but instead of accepting their choice the drunk guy starts snoopin' on their laptops and looking and what this one business man is typing and working on and asking questions and saying german things and CLASP! the laptop gets slammed shut and loud German words are being thrown back and forth. A fellow business man helps his colleuge in telling the drunk guy to go away, and im guessing to mind his own beeeeeezwax. The drunk guy isnt having it so he puts the mini keg down and starts yelling even louder. His friends are saying somehting to him as the argument is really starting to escalate. Finally a man in a navy blue suit comes through the sliding doors, he looks official. Again, in German, he is trying to control the situation. The drunk guy is making hand gestures and facial expressions that only a drunk person would make after getting in trouble for his drunken actions. The situation dies down after the official leaves. The drunk guys drunk friends leave him as they go somewhere else on the train. I turn around and the drunk guy is passed out; oh, but not for long!

you know when you pass out from a drunken experience and open your eyes to see you are all alone, your friends left you, and you need to find them. thats exactly what this guy did. he got up quickly, went through the sliding doors and didnt come back. aaaah peace and quiet.

2 hours later, the train is stopped at the Frankfurt station for the city, we needed the airport so we had one more stop to go. we see and official train person come back to where the drunk guys were sitting and retrieving their artifacts that they have left aka their beer mugs and mini keg. the guys come to the back and again with the german words being thrown about loudly they get their stuff back. but where is the drunken baboon? the train hasn't left yet for some odd reason and people are checking their watches and cell phones and calling people....and then my moms cell phone rings: its my dad. He calls with worry asking why the train was stopped by the police? ( i guess this information was on the internet) and my mom and i look confused, maybe something happened on the other carts and just as we were saying these words we see a police officer come onto our cart and the drunk baboon come through the sliding doors. the official gives him his duffle bag and is basically throwing him off the train. wtf??? are you kidding me??? what did this guy do to get kicked off a train!?!? i was more that curious. He put up a fight and was arguing with the police officer, the baboons friends tried to help but really couldnt do anything. the police man escorted him off the train and about 5 minutes later we were on our way to the airport. as the train was making its way to Frankfurt international airport, i was easdropping (would it be easdropping if i dont even know german?) on the drunk guys talking and laughing about the whole situation. ok, i DO know one word in German and thats Shizta (or something) which translates into SHIT. there was a lot of that word being said, but finally....as i heard beer being filled into their mugs, they all clink their glasses and say "u Phillip"!!!! The train stopped and we got off, and i just couldnt stop laughing.

overpriced beer

noreply@blogger.com (ERin) — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 14:06:00 +0000

went to carabar last night to watch nick tolford and company. we weren't staying for long, and yet i insisted on getting a beer. $6 credit card minimum, so i asked for their most expensive beer (i was drunk). i got a $4 beer. it was gross. i didn't finish it, and i had to tip $2 to make the minimum. A SIX DOLLAR BEER!!! it wasn't good and i didn't finish it. uuuggghh, WTF?!?

also, aaron shaver took a swim in the olentangy river a couple nights ago. this isn't my story. but i wish it was, because there is so much more to it and it so deserves to be up here.

I have a huge walking stick

noreply@blogger.com (Abbey) — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 01:59:00 +0000

Today as I was waiting for the bus after class to take me back to the west campus lot a strange bedraggled, creepy looking man walked out of Schoenbaum with a HUGE walking stick/possible table leg. I say table leg in the fact that it looked exactly like a table leg that he ripped off and now used for some sort of walking device.

I noticed that he had a cigarette in his hand and that he was searching for a light of some sort.

When the first person he asked didn't have matches or a lighter he immediately turned around to face the brick facade of the building and began furiously rubbing his walking stick/table leg against the building in hopes of creating friction and sparking a light.

This is not possible for very obvious reasons.

He continues to do this for a while until he gives up.

He then asks another person for a lighter....to which they happily oblige.

Man goes on his way.

WHY.

i was attacked on summit by an egg

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 19:56:00 +0000

it was like midnight...maybe? and marina and i were driving down summit and we were deep in conversation and then out of no where an egg hit us!!!!!! then i screamed bloody murder and marina used her windshield wipers...something that looked like a doobie flew into the car, but luckily the egg missed me entirely. it put a little nick in Marina's windshield, but it was all ok once we got to Parson's avenue and we wiped her car down with some baby wipes.

Do I look like an alarm clock?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 20:45:00 +0000

I was sleeping at Greg's and had slept through his annoying alarm going off multiple times before he had to get up for work around 6:30AM. He recently re-arranged his room and now the bed-side table was on my side, not his, so he had to reach across the bed to get his phone when the alarm goes off. Because I was there, he put the phone on the floor next to his side of the bed so that he wouldn't have to reach over me to do so. Unfortunately, when his alarm went off after the billionth snooze-sesh, he reached for his phone with a vengeance.. and straight up SLAPPED MY FACE. He was used to reaching over to the other side of the bed for his phone, but he got me perfectly on the face. I woke up in sheer terror and let out one of the loudest screams I believe has ever come from my throat. I was in complete shock, because I was dead asleep prior to the slap, so it woke me up with a jolt. My immediate thought was that someone was attacking me, which is the reason for the scream. He hit me SO hard. SO FUCKING HARD, DUDE!!!! I was just in a whirlwind of WTF, you know? But just seconds later, after I'd processed the situation and was wide awake, I started cracking up. I was laughing so hard and could not stop laughing for like, 20 minutes. He kicked me out of the bed and I had to go laugh to myself in the living room.

I still can't believe he slapped me.

An ironic twist to this situation is that it was karmic; a long time coming for me. When I was little, my older sister from my dad's previous marriage would come stay with us every other weekend. I had a queen-size bed, so she stayed with me when she visited. One night I was having a dream about this annoying girl that went to the same babysitter. I still vividly remember the dream; the girl was being annoying and I just slapped her. In real life, however, I .. uh .. accidentally slapped my sister as hard or possibly harder than I recall Greg slapping me. Oops. I guess I deserved it, albeit 10+ years later.

I got asked out in a pack of Strawberry Orbit

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 18 May 2009 00:45:00 +0000

Ok so for whatever reason I've been lookin real good lates. Yesterday morning someone wanted to buy me at the flea market on the south side. Then I got asked for my number at the gas station AND THEN I got this wonderful pack of Strawberry Orbit last night at Agora. Oh ya, and I got asked out at the Toy Store today too. A guy came back in to ask me to go out sometime. It was actually nice and not like when I'm studying and reading at the library with my ipod in and a guy comes up to me and asks if I, "Got a man?" and then actually says "congratulations" when I say I do. WTF. Sometime I just say "fuck it" and give out my number, but I haven't at all. So anyways, Agora is MAD busy. Overwhelming. It was awesome, at the end of the night most people were just drunk and wanted to finish the long day with some dancing. We all thought Garrett was going on at 12, but instead a bunch of horrible rappers came in and pushed his slot back. We tried to keep the positive attitude AND the dancing goin, but first of all, someone kept fucking farting on the dance floor. It was so rank. SO RANK. repeatedly farting. So you couldn't breath. People were straight up leaving and going home. Well and 2nd of all, they were so bad, that people were leaving. Kate Sweeney is dancing and frankly secretly mocking the rappers to their face in my opinion. It was hysterical. Funniest part of the night, plus the rappers loved her. So the duo gives her and Marina copies of their CD, and then dude below gives me a pack of Strawberry Orbit gum. WTF. I was like omg, does my breath smell, and def made Kate and Marina smell my breath. They both said it didn't and Marina also told me, "Dude, I would tell you." haha ok. so Kate and Marina are dancing with their CDS in the air, and I'm like WTF gum, so I pocket it. When the farting got so bad, I had to leave, I went back to the studio to eat a piece of new said GUM. and low and behold............... shameless self promotion: nickvido.com ANNNNNDDDD a lovely message and Mr. Glove and Stunna shade's phone number! Holy shit hahahahahah. Whyyyyyyyyyyy. Why would you do this. It looks like a girl made them. Are you trying to get over an ex, and your friend that is a girl made these for you to pass out to girls when you rap?I don't know. I just dont get it. It's bad. Don't do it. WTF, no one else got one but me. HAHAHAHAHAH. Here's a little taste of nickvido.com I recommend everyone goes to it, and reads his Bio and stuff. You will weep. I'm a biaaaaaaaatch.

Don't do this either. Look at technoland. Don't wear sunglasses and gloves and industrial clothes, unless it's a funny joke. Maybe.

The problem with this post is it will probably come up in search when he googles his own name. Should we change this? He has to be Serbian or Croatian cos of the spelling of his name, I'm guessing Croatian cos he is more fair then dark complected. Which is funny since I am and he picked me. Maybe he's just Russian or Eastern European.

Bio:

Eyes closed, the engineer relaxes into thought, carefully constructing part by part from bare essentials. The world of the inventor declares no task impossible; the only limitations are those imposed by the mind of the creator. Motivated by an insatiable entrepreneurial spirit, the musician seeks and finds those of like mind and challenges them to reach their full potential. The visionary sees the future of entertainment media as a symphony of music, technology and art. A talented performer and vocalist seeks connection with his audience through engaging lyrics and extraordinary composition. NICK VIDO awakens to a life colored by his dream and soars with the promise of creation.

Born in a small Midwestern town, Nicholas Vidovich is the first-generation native-born son of an immigrant steelworker. His family of blue collar workers is, and always has been, innately driven by the entrepreneurial promise of the "American Dream." By witnessing his father's successful business pursuits, Nicholas established a solid foundation for the development of his own endeavors. As the President and CEO of Vidovich Enterprises Limited, Nicholas, a professional Software Engineer, combined his talents with the incomparable musical compositions created by noteworthy producer SUPANATRA. Together with Spaceship Seven Records, the duo, known as Braindouble, set out to re-invent the world of interactive entertainment using 3D animation, state-of-the-art video production, and artificially intelligent software.

Nicholas Vidovich currently resides in Columbus, Ohio.

Love/Hate relationship with vending machines.....

noreply@blogger.com (Marina Goldshteyn) — Sat, 16 May 2009 11:36:00 +0000

The vending machine, the 20th century goldmine of quick and easy snacking......or is it? To me is has caused me a lot of unnecessary stress when all i want is a little bag of pleasure for my tum. Then again, I blame myself because i seem to trust and invest in every vending machine that comes my way. When really, they are all the same. They all have that statistical error that arises when i come around (or thats what it seems like).

So here it goes:
At OSU there are muliple buildings with FOOD vending machines in them. Of course non of them are in any art buildings because art students don't spend all night working on projects (cough cough), only science and engineering/chemistry/math students do that so they need nutrition.
Autumn quarter of this year i was starving, have 3 classes back to back and no time to make a lunch i stopped by a vending machine that had always been good to me. I had only ONE DOLLAR left and needed those M&Ms. So i slide Mr. Washington into the "Money Eater" pressed what i thought was the code and i watched the coils turn on the empy shelf NEXT to the M&Ms......i was baffeled......how did i do that? How the hell did i enter the number to the only empty shelf in the whole machine. I was so pissed and hungry, but I laughed....

Winter quarter of this year i was starving AGAIN and went to one of the new vending machines that are specidically filled with recesse pieces and snickers in the big math building on campus. The machine was missleading because it looked like a vending machine for pop but was actually for candy so i took my chances when i only had one dollar AGAIN. I put in that dollar, pressed for recesses pieces and did i hear a wonderful sound a bag of wonderfulness drop? NO! nothing came out, nothing! THERE WAS NO OUT OF ORDER SIGN OR NOTHING! I was pissed and hungry, but laughed....

Spring quarter (or "hell) made me stay in Hopkins hall computer labs for 8 hours a day and being the idiot i continously am, I forget to pack lunch, but thankfully i have a lot of change i now carry around. It was one of my long work days and my new favorite vending machine was in the basement of a building called denny hall. THEY HAVE PEANUT BUTTER M&Ms! (if you cant tell, i love those little morsels). Except this day they didn't have the peanut butter kind, just the peanut kind and i degraded for hunger sake. Once again, same ole routine: in goes george washington, i press the code (E2) and slowly the coils turn and my bag of glory starts to fa- IT GOT STUCK!!!!!!!!! the bag didnt come out! it was hanging half way in the coil and i wanted to just die! i shook the machine like the stereotypical anti-vending machine person would do in a vending mahcine rage but it wouldnt budge! i resulted in putting in another dollar, i guess i really wanted those candies. of corse that bag i wanted dropped right down and so did another bag.......i definately looked like a fatass.

Like i havent learned from my mistakes the following week i went to get some candy again, but replacing the peanut m&ms were my lovely PEANUT BUTTER! i was so happy that i did the same routine and pressed the code that was the same as before and what do you know..........they also got stuck! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!!!!!!!!! i started to laugh, but then got angry.......i shoook/banged the machine again only harder and with more force! the bag fell out and i was filled with joy. i walked down the hall with a mouth full of peanut butter and chocolate dreaminess and completely forgot about how stupid i am for continously trust these machines that have entered our food rituals.

moral of this story: we are all fooled by the trust we put on machines and im an idiot.

America's Finest

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 15 May 2009 14:54:00 +0000

I added a picture to the CABS post, it's kinda funny. I have a lot of old stories to add, but I'm slow, SO I wanted to add a story told to me by my dad this week when he got off of work. My dad works for Omni-flight, which is hired by MEDflight. He basically flies those helicopters that pick up people at crash scenes etc and fly them to the hospital, or like emergency surgery stuff from one hospital to another in Ohio or a near by state. So he's been working nights a lot, and that's when all the bad accidents really seem to happen; on the weekend nights when people get drunk and really stupid. So anyways apparently this drunk redneck, wait SHITFACED redneck was driving and whippin' around on his ATV on the roads and stuff. He got pulled over by the cops earlier in the night who just gave him a warning and told him to take himself and his ATV home and get off the road. (Here I want to know why he didn't get arrested for a DUI when that Columbus guy on the motorized Bar Stool did!) So dumbass redneck kept runnin' around on said ATV, and finally he got what he deserved when he was at the intersection of where 229 and 61 meet up in Delaware county and some guy driving an SUV hit him for whatever reason (he probably couln't see him zippin around in the dark through the intersection) and the redneck flew up on the hood of the SUV and went through the fucking windsheild!!!!!!! This guy's head was in the windsheild! OMG I would be so scarred for life! Luckily the driver was the only one in the car, there was no children or wife or anything. So yeah, my dad picked this guy up. He always comes home and tells me stories about some of whom he refers to as America's Finest.

POST SCRIPT

This is just one of the many stories I hear on a regular basis. Last night my dad picked up a 25 year old guy in Marion who had ODed on Heroin but his body or brain chemicals were so fucked up that he went balistic. People found him buried in the corner of a basement punching the wall, and his hand was all mangled. I guess his muscles in his body couldnt hand the drug and were contracting and doing weird things. He also went to pick up an old lady, who died on the spot, so they brought her back to life, then she died again, and they brought her back to life.....etc so I guess my dad asked for a pot of coffee?!?!?!!? ('cos all he does is sit in the helicopter and wait and fly, he does no medical stuff) So I guess a nurse was like "ok, I'll put a pot on (Where!? I don't get this part!?) BUT you have to sit here and watch her. She's on suicide watch." WTF my dad is like...ok...alright...(I'm guessing at this stop he was at a remote hospital, and was going to be transporting this old lady to a larger hospital like OSU, so this young girl he was watching apparently had also just ODed on stuff and had tried to kill herself.) My dad called this "Drug Night"

the string cheese incident

noreply@blogger.com (ERin) — Thu, 14 May 2009 22:14:00 +0000

heyyy-

i'd like to thank kate for inviting me to post my stories, adventures, and rants on this lovely blog. i think i will be a frequent contributor considering the fact that ridiculous things happen to me constantly. whether this is because a) i tend to do everything way too fast, b) i am just an idiot, or c) that's just the way it goes, i'm not sure. all i know is that the bad things that happen are usually extremely annoying and tend to make life just a little bit more difficult.

this one is kind of dumb now that i think about it, but its the reason kate asked me to write on this so here goes:

the other day i got home from class, tired and hungry for a snack. so i grabbed a stick of string cheese from the fridge and set it down on the table. as soon as i set down my cheese, my ADD tendencies caused me to notice that the plug-in air freshener was in the wrong socket, so i reached down to move it. no big deal, right? wrong. i opened my string cheese and put the first string into my mouth, only to find out my hand was covered in clean linen air freshener juice. now, i don't know if any one you have ever had the chance to experience this taste, but it is probably the worst one ever (btw, this is not the first time i have accidentally ingested air freshener juice). so now i'm starving and my mouth tastes like clean linen x1 million. so i go in the kitchen to clean up, wash my hands and mouth and get ready to settle into my string cheese eating again when i discover that the air freshener juice had somehow penetrated the entire stick of cheese and again, my mouth is infused with the fresh scent of linens courtesy of bath and body works. AND, i'm completely out of string cheese.

moral of the story: beware of air freshener oils. they are not for eating. wash hands thoroughly after handling anything from bath and body works. i cannot even eat string cheese without something going horribly wrong.

"I peed in ur car"

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 14 May 2009 03:21:00 +0000

Today I got in my car, turned it on and used the A/C for the first time in a while. Upon the first blast of air, there was a weird odor that smelled sort of like urine. Stale urine, you know, like cat piss that never gets cleaned out of the carpet and just perpetually eminates the scent of set-in, stale piss. It reminded me of something that happened at Bonnaroo in 2007.

My mom allowed Jen and Drew to drive her white Ford Escape to Tennessee for Bonnaroo. Erin and I met them there and parked next to eachother. We got a prime parking and camping spot because we were at the very edge of an area that was on the footpath to Shakedown Street aka where you get yo' drugs & get into Centeroo. The farm upon which Bonnaroo takes place was experiencing an especially dry, drought-y summer, so the footpaths - composed of dust, dirt and gravel - created an insane amount of dust in the air that we'd breath in/choke on/find in our nostrils when we blew our noses/had to wear scarves and bandanas over our faces because of/got our feet and shoes insanely dirty/was remedied (attempts were made, anyway) by water trucks that trolled the grounds hosing water on the ground to turn the dust into mud to keep it from rising. The dust was inescapable, really.

Being that we were parked directly next to these dusty paths, the Escape became more grey than white by the end of the weekend - it was completely covered in dust. On day four we awoke to find a nice message written with someone's finger onto the dust covered driver's side window. "I PEED IN UR CAR" (it may have actually been "I peed in ur car hehe" or "I peed in ur car :)" .. I'm sad I didn't take a photograph of it.) First thought was, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! But naaaahhh, there was no way that could have happened! Jen and Drew had the keys and kept the car locked at all times that none of us were at the campsite. Or at least they tried.... We decided that it was a small possibility that overnight as we were sleeping in the tent (just inches from the car) and the druggiest of druggies and craziest of crazies were still out and about, that they'd forgotten to lock up.

It remained a question in our minds and still does to this day, and I am convinced it was true and that some crazy person peed in the vent of my mom's (then) new car. The car was detailed and cleaned upon our return to Ohio and have been cleaned handfuls of times since. Jen, KTZ & I even took it to Bonnaroo again last summer. And yet, when I ride in the car with my mom and she turns on the A/C, I smell that distinct, stale piss smell... and I don't think I'll ever forget it.

I ALWAYS lock my car doors, but I SMELLED THAT SMELL, and I really hope no one peed in my vents. :/

"sex acts"

noreply@blogger.com (Marina Goldshteyn) — Sat, 02 May 2009 16:35:00 +0000

This is an oldie, but REALLY goodie:

So about a year and a half ago, around October 2007, Ktz and I (Marina) wanted to go on a photographic adventure and take pictures of ourselves wearing 60's outfits frolicking through fields of corn and emptiness (I mean who wouldn't?). Fortunately, being all too familiar with Hilliard I knew exactly where to go. After dressing ourselves as psuedo hippies, with face paint, headbands, and all; we grabbed our cameras and drove out to the boonies of Hilliard. It was a beautiful late afternoon and I drove us out to this abandoned barn that I use to always drive by, back in my "Its Friday night lets drive fast in country" days, and knew it would be perfect for what we wanted to achieve. I parked my car, and we began having a great time. Taking pictures, snapping Polaroids, jumping around, and being happy people from the 1960s, duh. As we were reviewing the pictures on Katies, not so 1960s digital camera, we turned around and saw 3 (Im pretty sure it was 3, it definately wasn't 1) police officers coming our way. My heart fell out of my butt, what could we be doing illegal? Tresspassing? This barn looks like it got torn down during the great depression, and I didn't remember the last time the field we were standing in had corn ACTUALLY growing. Although I don't exactly remember the way the conversation started but the officer asked us what were doing, and we replied exactly what we were doing and that was taking photographs for a "school" project. We showed the officer the pictures to prove ourselves. The officer proceeded to inform us that someone called them. He pointed to this little house a couple yards away from where we were and told us that this old lady called and complained about "Two young women going into an abandoned barn to perform SEX ACTS". At that point, my jaw dropped and I started laughing. WTF? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? The officer also let us know that the old lady that called always calls, and sends them out for random stupid things. He figured nothing serious was going on so he and the other one walked back to their cop vehicals and informed the third cop that there were no "sex acts" being commited. They eventually left and Katie and I kept taking pictures and having fun, but we will never forget that crazy "s" that insude that autumn afternoon and is definately a story worth telling.

Total what the fuck-ery

noreply@blogger.com (Abbey) — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 21:23:00 +0000

This post is actually being copied from a facebook note I wrote earlier in the month. Please enjoy.

It was titled: You're going to want to read this:

April 3, 2009 (the day before my birthday) 9:04 am
I received a text from a number I did not know saying "wats gud."

Now, this happens to me all the time
(like the time I was sitting in class and someone texted me and said U GONNA PICK ME UP IN 10 MINS AT DA WAFFLE HOUSE.)
...so I didn't think anything of it and went about my business (aka not answering the number thinking the sender would get the point.)

2 days later I get another text from the same number (this time at 10 am) stating "gud morning" followed by a sassy lil' picture of the sender (see below or somewhere in the post for said photo. Note how sassy it is.
Note:::: he sent me this photo even though I hadn't answered. Was it to entice me to answer? Did it entice me to answer this time? No.

Again, I don't answer thinking that the second time the sender will get the point (aka you have the wrong number dude.)

I was apparently wrong in my thinking because everyday thus far this person has texted me saying, "wats gud" and other really amazing things
(this also reminds me of the time Jaime and I were in a drivethru and the man at the window answered with "SUP GURLS WHAT'S REALLY GOOD?")

Anyways, today I finally answered and this is the conversation as follows (and spelled exactly as typed...you're welcome)

him: wats gud?
me: who is this?
him:D U gave me yo number wen u was at ma job a day or two ago
me: I'm pretty sure you have the wrong number dude. Sorry.
him: isnt yo name danise?
me: No my name is Abbey. She either gave you the wrong number (oops) or you typed it wrong.
him: U gota nigga?
me: Uhhh bye.

and thus ended our brief but fairly satisfying text fling.

anyways, I've never written a facebook note before but I figured this warranted one. And Denise (Danise, DUHNEECE, anyone else that wants to be Danise) should shoot homeboy a text message at 6148063495

say hello.

I got in a car accident while I was riding public transportation

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 17:22:00 +0000

I guess I should start with when I got in a bus accident. CABS stands for Campus Area Bus Service. Last Monday, April 13 I got out of class early, and was riding a CABS bus back to my car. We were pulled over at a stop on Woody Hayes Dr and as we pulled out to get onto the main road the driver tried to break but we hit a pick up truck that had been in the bus' blind spot. Yea, we just hit a moving car. The bus hit a car. When does a bus hit cars? Especially when you're riding it!? So our bus driver pulls over and calls his dispatch, and is telling him how we hit a car, and then the driver of the pick-up truck pulls over and gets ON THE BUS. So now the bus driver and the pick-up truck driver are talking on the bus. They go out to inspect the damage. Meanwhile everyone on the bus is just kinda weird and silent. It's so funny and awkward to make eye contact with anyone because everyone is just saying "wtf or what the hell" in their head. I, of course, text my normal crew of wtf-ers and bus riders: Abbey, Kate, and Marina, among a few others. To me, this is funny. So the dispatch is more concerned with the bus' own damage than it is with the pick-up truck, but luckily the two drivers get back on the bus and determine that there is no damage and we will both go our separate ways. So the pick-up truck man drives away and then we as well get back on the road down to west campus... just like any other day. Maybe whats more weird is that I was in an accident where I neither knew the driver or any other passengers, or that it occurred while I was on public transportation, but anyways, wtf... only me...

Welcome to Are You Kidding Me?!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 19 Apr 2009 21:37:00 +0000

You've reached the 'Are You Kidding Me?!' blog (http://OMGnofnway.blogspot.com) - a source of 100% real, actual, true-life accounts of awkward and unbelievable situations and occurrences.

The authors behind this blog have an uncanny ability to attract bizarre behavior in others, and as frequent witnesses to such strange sightings, several questions oft' arise, like "Are you fucking kidding me?!" "Did that really just happen?" [sharing David's concerned sentiments] "is this real life?" and "Am I the only one who saw that?"

The purpose of the Are You Kidding Me?! blog is to illustrate that those involved in the accounts were in fact not kidding us, and to answer all of the above using investigative problem-solving through documentary-style writing, and most of all for entertainment.

Please enjoy.