Cool Stories?

[4X4]

I wanna rent a gorilla costume for may long. That is a wicked story, Dion.

And chid, was it one of the JPs?

[Flash Walken]

Originally Posted by chid

Speaking of poop, a few of my friends went to the African Lion Safari last summer, got high, flipped off a few monkeys. Anyways, one of my guy friends was in the back seat and sharted himself. Sick thing was that no one needed to be told, we all heart it and.. smelled it.
We had to sit through the entire 'safari' with him, although I'd imagine it was probably the most uncomfortable feeling for him..
We had to go buy him a pair of pants as soon as we finished.

Shiatzu Pants in the hot african sun.

Nice.

[troutman]

Originally Posted by Dion

You have to understand that Randy was a great prankster who liked to play jokes on people. He also stood about 6"8' tall. Anyway he explains that he came up with this crazy idea that he was going to imitate a sasquach and maybe scare a few folks.

Saturday night comes along and were hunkered down in the ditch beside a gravel road. We see headlights coming and Randy begins slowly walking across the road and on intp the woods. With the headlights shinning on him most drivers stopped for a few sconds then sped off.

I've heard of other people doing this. Would have tried it myself, except for the fear of being shot by some sasquatch hunter.

[JBR]

I've got a good story...

One summer at band camp...

[troutman]

Originally Posted by JBR

I've got a good story...

One summer at band camp...

Dear Penthouse Forum:

I never thought this could happen to me . . .

[Sainters7]

Originally Posted by troutman

I've heard of other people doing this. Would have tried it myself, except for the fear of being shot by some sasquatch hunter.

My thoughts exactly, I could totally see someone getting shot pulling a prank like that. Absolutely legendary story though, that's beauty!

[Ozy_Flame]

Well I'll tell a brief one that happened to my grandfather, although I never heard it from his mouth, and he only confided about war stories to my mother and my grandmother.

He was stationed in Italy during WWII, operating as a tank driver for the Polish Army, qualified to drive (what I think was an A27 Cromwell) tank because he could actually fit into the driver's seat. Anyways, he was on patrol through an Italian Forest and was approaching an intersection of two gravel roads, lined with thick forest so you couldn't see if anything was coming perpendicular. He emerged into the intersection. only to accidentally hit a huge pile of horse manure that wasn't visible. The tank ollied to the left, and low-and-behold, landed on-top of a passing by German Panzer that wasn't visible behind the thick forest shrubbery. The Germans inside the Panzer immediately got out and surrendered, all the while my grandfather and his tank crew trying to understand what the hell just happened within the past five seconds.

Needless to say, a regular patrol run turned into an unexpected Allied victory taking German prisoners thanks to a pile of horse manure.

[skippy]

Hi, Skippy here. Been a member a long time but usually just like to read the posts. However, seeing these stories about Grandfathers has triggered a memory of my own. My Grandfather passed away about 12 years ago but one moment has always stuck with me.

My Grandfather (as I remember him) was always a strict, tough, seldom smiling guy. He grew up in China and when the Japanese invaded in WWII, he was separated from his family and ended up in the Phillipines. After the war he returned to China where he met my Grandma and had some kids (my Dad included). Soon afterwards they emigrated to Canada.
My Grandfather left behind a younger brother who he didn't see after he left. They didn't have much contact aside from letters as his brother lived in a small village in Eastern China. Anyways, my dad went to visit this village in the late eighties (pre-internet) and met his uncle and family and videotaped a message for my Grandpa (who was too old at the time to want to travel so far). So, my dad comes home and plays the video for my Grandpa and this hard-nosed guy that I was scared of starts crying as he watches his brother relay a message to him telling him he missed him and that the village was good... Anyways, it was cool and uncanny cause when I was watching the video all I saw was my Grandpa but just a little bit younger.

Anyways, as I read back over this post, I kinda miss him and how he used to kick my butt (literally) as he made sure I went to school...

[CrispyGriz]

So this is one of the many adventures of those known infamously as the goof troop. Making up this exemplary group of young men conists of 5 amazing people. For this story, only 4 of us were present. There was the one known as Newfy, Another named Matt, My buddy Noah and myself.

So it all started the Thursday of stampede week standing at work talking with one of my coworkers during some downtime. It was absolutely gorgeous outside and the idea of floating down the river and the awesomeness it would include. As good an idea it was, it wasn't going to be able to happen as stampede party 06(creative i know) was going down at a friends place on the weekend and the logistics of floating down the river and making the party just wasn't going to work. After feeling disappointed for a bit, I realized the party was going to be held literally one block from the elbow river just past the fourth street bridge. Thinking about how awsome floating down the river to a party would bring the level of epicness to unknown levels and had to be done, there were no other options.

So after work, i give the goof troop a shout and tell them about my idea. They all say it was going to be too much work as we didn't have a raft and were looking at one inner tube between us. Not to be discouraged, i tell them i can "acquire" a canoe on short notice, we can leave the vehicles at the top of the river and pick them up the next day and it was going to work. The plan was set, a couple fine ladies wanted to join us to celebrate her birthday as we had this hyped pretty well and it seemed like a fool proof plan. ON the river mid afternoon, float and enjoy the weather, get off just in time for dinner and a kick ass party.

Saturday rolls around, I go and get the canoe I was "borrowing", drop off some dry clothes and beer at the location of the party and get all the guys to the top of the river around 3:30 to meet the girls. Once the girls showed up around 4:00 we parked the cars and started carrying everything to the river(Air mattress, Inner tube and Canoe plus beverages). At around 4:30 we hit the water and get going.

Already we are behind schedule, but at this point it was a minor detail. So we start on our way, enjoying the company, everything was great. After rounding a couple bends we see a family walking down from the Golf course waving for us to stop. Being nice people we go over and see what they have to say. Turns out they are trying to get to a gathering at sandy beach further down the river and have lost their way, not surprisingly.

Lets take a moment to introduce the family of three. First you have Bear, He is a 300 pound average height guy who is completely smashed and just had back surgery. There is Bears Sister, also smashed. And finally, Bears adopted 13(ish) year old daughter.

We inform them that sandy beach is a couple bends away down the river and it shouldn't be too far of a walk. Bear, as drunk as he was, wasn't in shape to be walking that far apparently and instead suggested that they could just float with us down the river until they got there. We didn't want to create any bad feelings and the first couple drinks made this seem like a good idea. So they all hop onto the air mattress with the girls, essentially sinking the raft, and progress down the river continued. After about five minutes we look back to the raft and notice Bear is no longer on it. Instead, he is laying on his side, 100 yards back, in the middle of the river. So here we are thinking, my god what do we do? We stop the canoe, Noah who is a big guy, 6 foot 5, and Newfy hop out and start back up the river to help him back to the raft. They get there and Bear is of no help at all, but after 5 minutes of struggles, the get him back to the raft.

We continue going until we can see sandy beach at the end of the straight. Feeling relieved that this is almost done with we try and get there as fast as we can. Half way down the straight we look back and for a second time, Bear is laying on his side in the river. To make matters worse, His sister is running away towards sandy beach because of the situation with niece in tow trying to stop her. By this point we have wasted at least an hour getting pretty much nowhere and need to get going. Noah and Newfy get out and half carry/half drag Bear to shore so at the very least he didn't drown. We could see his sister coming back so we decided we did our part and headed on our way happy to be rid of hitch hiker family.

At this point it is about 5:30 and starting to cool down. the sun had dropped behind the walls of the canyon and we needed to make some ground up. Being the only one with any experience on the water, it became my responsibility to get us going. The plan was to put Matt, Noah and the girls in the canoe with the air mattress rolled up and me on the back gunnel's navigating. Newfy was in the inner tube as he was too drunk to get out thinking he could keep up. I knew this was a pipe dream, but couldn't convince him otherwise, so I let it go.

We started on our way, making horrible time as every hundred meters i had to back and get Newfy as he was pretty useless at the time. After another hour, making it around 7:30. The girls, who are cold wet and having what can only be described as one of the worst birthdays ever, decide that they had enough and it would be faster to get out walk to the bridge at sifton and then to the party.

Considering i had a canoe that wasn't mine, i had to let them go. So at this point we are down to four guys in a canoe, all a little drunk if not more, with an inner tube and air mattress shoved in all of us cold and hungry without an end in site. The river was way to low for a canoe and pushing was necessary for a lot of it. At this point we enter what is known as "survival mode". We had a party to get to and good time to have. Newf hopped in the front of the canoe saying he would be the best paddler being from Newfoundland and all(not true at all). Matt and Noah were in the middle and i was sitting on the back gunnel's so i could hop off and push during the shallow parts.

We get going and start making back some time. If I'm not literally running the canoe down the river, I'm pounding a beer getting my breath back. We finally round the last corner, can see the suspension bridge in the distance and the fourth street bridge past it. Feelings of hope fill us and we paddle with vigor. The water is deep for the entire stretch and going is slow with the overloaded canoe, no help from the front and my feet trailing in the water.

As we float down the river, as drunk as we were, every so often one side of the canoe would tip under for a couple seconds brining on water. At first this wasn't a big deal because the gunnel's would pop right back up and no harm would be done. After three or four times though, we had brought on enough water to nearly fill the boat. With half of the straight to go, we needed to bail water and fast as one more tip and we were going to sink the thing.

So we head to the first solid looking bank we saw, hopped out and started trying to tip a canoe full of water. The solid bank we chose turned out to be quicksand like mud. We all sunk up to our knees and were covered in it before we were satisfied with the situation. At one point Noah had managed to fall under the boat. All in all, a disaster and a half.

We got going again and got to the get out point, emptied the boat got rid of the water and reloaded at the top of the hill. I grab the back, Matt grabs the front, newf and Noah walk along side pretending to help. We cruise down the street, soaked to the bone, no shirts, canoe in hand. Walk in to the back yard, drop the canoe to a huge round of applause. The girls who abandoned us beat us by an hour and a half. At this point it was 10:30 at night and the party was in full swing. A game of buffalo run later and i woke up in my bed with no phone, wallet, money, or any idea how i got there.

Solid day of shenanigans for the goof troop.

[Dion]

Then there's a certain story that has both become a legend among my friends and a total embarrassment for me personaly.

Just after our HS grad, a bunch of us decided to head on down to Spokane for a little holiday and bar hoping. We find this cheap roadside motel across from the local drive in theatre. Anyway we get home late from the bar that night and i decide to take a hot shower. I'm done and drying off when one of my friends yells there's a streaker in the parking lot. With only a towel rapped around my waist i rush up to the window to see what all the ruckus was about.

Before i had a chance to look, my buddies grab me and my towel and shove me out the door to the motel room. I'm standing there in the parking lot naked as a jay bird banging on the door those asshats had conveniantly locked behind me. Of course they're looking out the window, pointing and laughing at me. Big joke they thought.

It now goes from bad to worse. Just my luck the drive in movie was done and patrons were leaving with their headlights shinning on me and our motel door. Drivers were honking with the usuall cat calls thrown in. Anyway they figure they'd had enough fun and decided to let m in. Lucky for us motel management didn't find out.

[Ford Prefect]

Since 4x4 told a grandparent story, I'll relate one in return. It's nowhere near as cool as 4x4's, but I've always thought it interesting in that it reflects a different era in Alberta's history.

My maternal grandfather came to Alberta in 1903, and homesteaded in the east central area of the province. He was a bit of a crusty character ... he used to pull his own teeth (no dentists around back then) and for breakfast he'd pour black coffee into a bowl and break up a slice or two of bread and drop it into his bowl of coffee. He as a guilded blacksmith from the Savoie region of France. The generations of blacksmiths in our family tree is still evident ... we tend to have rather powerful upper bodies. When he moved to Canada he first lived in Montreal, and later a french community in Manitoba before eventually moving to Alberta. Anyway, that's just a bit of background on gramps.

When he first homesteaded, the nearest post office was in Lacombe, which was a distance of about 120 km. For the first few years he lived in Alberta he'd make this trip on foot twice a year, spring and fall. He must have had a horse, but for some reason he didn't use it on these trips, probably because his brother was using it to break sod or something. As it was a multi-day trip on foot, it was always a bonus when somebody came along with a wagon headed in the same direction. It meant a bit of a break, a chance to catch up on some news and if the fellow was going far enough it would shave a fair amount of time off the trip.

On one of his semi-annual trips to the post office, grampa noticed such a wagon approaching from behind. He was elated ... he'd be able to hitch a ride. Not so. The wagon drove around him at a distance of half a mile away. Grampa was royally PO'ed. There was probably only a few hundred people living in about a three county area at that time, so such rude behaviour just wasn't neighbourly. Grampa griped about this guy for the rest of his life.

I figure grampa probably experienced one of the earliest occurrences of road rage in the province, except there weren't any roads yet. Since 4x4 asked for our stories, and given 4x4's driving reputation around here (totally undeserved I might add), it seemed like the appropriate story to relate.

There's lots of other great stories I heard from grampa as well, about moonshining, cattle rustling, murders and all that wild west stuff. It's not true that none of that ever happened in Alberta. We just don't have a Canadian version of Hollywood to publicize and romanticize our wild west history.

[Dan02]

Originally Posted by Dion

Then there's a certain story that has both become a legend among my friends and a total embarrassment for me personaly.

Just after our HS grad, a bunch of us decided to head on down to Spokane for a little holiday and bar hoping. We find this cheap roadside motel across from the local drive in theatre. Anyway we get home late from the bar that night and i decide to take a hot shower. I'm done and drying off when one of my friends yells there's a streaker in the parking lot. With only a towel rapped around my waist i rush up to the window to see what all the ruckus was about.

Before i had a chance to look, my buddies grab me and my towel and shove me out the door to the motel room. I'm standing there in the parking lot naked as a jay bird banging on the door those asshats had conveniantly locked behind me. Of course they're looking out the window, pointing and laughing at me. Big joke they thought.

It now goes from bad to worse. Just my luck the drive in movie was done and patrons were leaving with their headlights shinning on me and our motel door. Drivers were honking with the usuall cat calls thrown in. Anyway they figure they'd had enough fun and decided to let m in. Lucky for us motel management didn't find out.

FATA!!!

atleast i'm pretty sure you told this story in the rate your shame thread from awhile back

[chris lindberg]

Here are a couple of short stories I've heard about my grandfather...

Every winter, he and my great-grandfather would travel south 400 km by dogsled on their trapline from Webequie, Ontario to Fort William, Ontario, two month journey.

He once killed a bear with a knife, probably to eat.

He also drowned Moose by grabbing their antlers and holding them underwater when he didn't have any bullets.

His family survived on black moss when their was nothing else to eat.

[ResAlien]

Favourite story I know about my father:

Grew up in what is not known as the best neighbourhood in BC (Surrey on the docks), anyways

Long story short, he had 3 brothers. Earl is the youngest out of the group. They really wanted to beat the hell out of this one kid, so they tell Earl "go kick that kid in the shins and we'll take him out once he starts hitting ya" So, Earl heads over, kicks the kid in the shins, get a couple good blows landed on him, and my dad and his two other brothers hop in and beat the living snot out of the guy throwing fists on Earl.

On the way home, my dad smacks Earl on the back of the head.

"You idiot, that was the wrong kid!"

[4X4]

I'm loving the stories. Keep 'em coming.

[calf]

Short and sweet:

Last year, right after the trade deadline, a buddy and I decided to get tickets off Ebay for the HNIC Flames-Oilers game in Edmonton. Got a good deal, about $100 for seats right behind the net, about row 7. Club seats, got access to the bar under the stands/by the Oilers' entrance and everything.

A couple sits down in front of us, and one is wearing a Pronger Jersey, the other, a Smyth one. I got a picture of me kneeling next to them giving the thumbs up (later saw that she was flipping the bird, so it was nice having that touch of Edmonton class in there).

Anyways, during the 2nd intermission, we make our way to where the Oilers come out of the dressing room...right at the front. Stortini makes his way to the ice with Torres behind him, and my buddy yells "Hey Stortini! Why don't you drop your purse, and fight Goddard you ****ing fairy". Torres laughed at that, as well as Rexall security, which was quite surprising. I'm trying to get the video file and/or get it on youtube.

[Jayems]

My family and I immigrated to Canada from England in the late 1980's, but my family back home has started a family tree and they've got it back to the 1500's.

My mom is going back home in May, and she's bringing it back, or a copy at least. There are a few stories that I've been told, but don't have all the info on it yet, but as soon as I do, I'll post it, cause I think they're pretty neat.

In the 1700s, my mother's side were nobles and lived in mansions etc until a relative drank and gambled it all away.

In the 1800s, I had a relative who was a bare-knuckle street fighter in London. (How cool is that?)

Lots of great war stories from WWI and WWII, including some battles at El Alamein when my Granddad's (fathers side) brother was killed. We've got his medals along with a pic of his grave in Egypt.


Another classic family story was from the Korean war. A relative of my grandfather on my mothers side, was separated from his unit. He began trudging up this path on a hill. When he got to the top, there was a lone korean soldier seperated from his unit. They both looked at each other, stared for a second or two, then they both promptly turned around and ran back down the hill. hahah.

I have a bunch of Irish in me, and a lot moved to England when the Protestants arrived, and a lot didn't take their birth certificate, so it's been hard to track.

I'll post the full stories, or at least the good ones, when I finally get my hands on it and get the full info.

[flylock shox]

My Dad went out drinking with friends one night in Scotland.

He ended up getting his thumb run over trying to hail a cab.

This is perhaps the most succinct drinking story I have ever heard.

[Calgaryborn]

My Grandmother grew up on a farm near Foam Lake Saskatchewan. She was one of the older of twelve siblings. Their farm was the closest to the country church and adjacent cemetery that serviced the area. This meant that when the circuit riding Lutheran minister came to town once a month he stayed at Grandma's parents farm. I still recall her talking about the different preachers that came and grading them on their table manners. She didn't think much of gluttons or wasteful eaters.

Anyways because of where the farm was located it was also the logical depository for corpses waiting to be buried in the cemetery. It would be impossible to bury someone in the winter in Saskatchewan with the frozen ground and snow. Also it certainly wasn't a good time for travelling any distance to a funeral. So if someone died they were hauled to my Grandmother's farm and left in an uninsulated barn until spring. To Grandma and her brothers and sisters this was just what happened every winter when they were growing up. In fact they were so accustomed to these winter guests that on occasion my Grandmother and her sisters would play dress-up with them and have pretend tea parties.

Later in life my Grandmother worked as a hair dresser and Grandpa worked for a funeral parlor. One time she was asked to fix the hair of a deceased lady for a open casket funeral. The person who usually did this wasn't available. She did help out and was quite proud to tell you that the family said Grandma made the corpse look better than this women ever did when she was alive.

[return to the red]

Only thing I have to say is see hall of fame thread about the bus trip to Edmonton in 2002. Haven't been to rectal since

edit: oh yah some great stories in here