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Stupid crap you did when you were a kid


deadshank

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The funniest of these to me are the ones where dudes try to smoke random shit.  I don't know why that's so funny to me.

To wit, I once made a pipe out of a 90 degree galvanized pipe fitting and the end of a water hose.

Rode my bike a couple of miles on a busy two lane highway in the country at night to go buy Garbage Pail Kids cards at the nearest store.  Easily should have been killed.  Probably the actual dumbest thing I've ever done.

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I was handy with a BB gun.  Not sure why it never translated to actual guns as an adult, I have next to no interest in them.  Anyways, two buddies and I were riding our bikes to one of their houses when we were 15.  Around the corner from his house we see this guy that was a grade younger than us and his girlfriend, and his younger brother.  The girl, was an early bloomer and was known as  "Betsy Boobies."  So we stopped to get a look.  I don't remember what was said, but his little shithead brother pulls out a pocket knife and starts threatening my friend (Wiler, if you are reading this, it was Strauss).  So we ride to the house and grab the BB Gun...I don't remember the brand, but it was a decent one.  We jump the back fence and go through the woods to end up directly across the street from the punks and Betsy Boobies.  I pump the BB gun to the maximum, take aim and nail that little shit.  He wailed.  It was satisfying. 

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3 minutes ago, Okie State said:

It's funny to me how everyone's Dad had a stash of nudie magazines. Mine had a collection of Playboys from the 80's including the famous Vanna White edition. Legend has it he tried to throw them away...read my Mom told him to...and the trashmen refused to take them. Thank goodness for those trashmen or we may have never found them.

Haha.  My dad didn't have any mags, none that I ever found, anyway, but he did have a VHS tape of some real nasty 70's porn.  It was a trilogy about incest called "Taboo."

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We used to build bike ramps out of whatever scrap wood we could find. Made a pretty sketchy one once and volunteered the neighbor kid to test it out. He was the only one who had to wear a helmet and it's a good thing because he flipped off the end and landed directly on his head splitting the helmet in half. He ran inside crying and everyone scattered before the parents came out.

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I had two male cousins that were 3 and 2 years older than me and I tried hard to keep up with their little boy shenanigans. The rule was I could hang out with them but I couldn't cry or tell on them to our parents. So we would do stuff like fuck with yellow jacket hives, take all the spent black cat fireworks that weren't  completely blown so we could empty the gun powder into a big pile and stick that into an empty round stink ball shell and throw them at each other. Climb trees to where we were at the top on the skinny branches and they would break and we would fall to the lower branches that would catch us.

I was doing all this shit as the littlest kid so the stink bomb would blow up in my hand, the yellow jackets would sting the shit out of me, or I would fall all the way out of the fucking tree. But yet, I still wanted to hang out with these assholes who were always laughing at my misfortunes and coming up with some other way to torture me just enough so that they could laugh at my pain but not enough to leave a major mark that would cause parental interference. My parents knew about the fireworks because it blew off a finger nail but they were lucky the yellow jackets stung me on my back and that I didn't die from an allergic reaction. Being a little kid was a fucking beating, man.

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Rode my bike a couple of miles on a busy two lane highway in the country at night to go buy Garbage Pail Kids cards at the nearest store.  Easily should have been killed.  Probably the actual dumbest thing I've ever done.


A bunch of us kids would routinely (like, minimum 2× daily) cross this non traffic-lighted intersection going to / from middle school or to / from baseball or football practice (Little Yankee / Federal Little League was on the other side of the school).

My kids are now 14 &16... I don't know if I would allow them to cross this daily.

The N side of that spot (pic is rotated L by 90⁰) is a cemetery & we would monkey around in there a lot. Occasionally some rando Mom would get some nice flowers from a kid who was walking home.d578e46dd509a2e6f3cbdefd44f3bcc8.jpg

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12 hours ago, conVINCEd said:

The married principal’s side piece was the divorced PTA president, who happened to be one of my friend’s mom.  His wife also happened to be my history teacher.  We saw him leaving her house one day and he looked guilty.  He saw us and we saw him.  The next time I got caught leaving campus for lunch he told me I was going to get 2 days of detention and I just looked at him for a few seconds.  He let me off with a warning.  There was sort of an unwritten understanding between us from that point forward.  He divorced his wife a year after I graduated and married my friend’s mom.

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2 minutes ago, mininghorn88 said:

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I definitely played my cards right.  I pretty much had unlimited authority to commit the equivalent of misdemeanors within the rules of a high school. The bookmaking deal, which was a small time thing by any reasonable standard,  kind of pushed the envelope and I had to take a bit of a hickey on it for him to get the on-campus cop to ignore it.   What I saw and presumably knew about him and the PTA president was never discussed.  I’m quite certain the fact that I spent an hour a day in his wife’s classroom tilted the playing board in my favor.  It’s not like I would’ve had to track her down outside of school if I wanted to spill the beans.  It was quite the ethical dilemma for me, as his wife was the nicest person on the face of the earth and he was a raging asshole, but as a 17 year-old kid I chose to stay out of their marital issues with what amounted to circumstantial evidence.  That I received a little preferential treatment in return was a happy consequence.

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On 7/13/2021 at 6:48 PM, Armybrat said:

No shit. At Fort Brooke in San Juan, Puerto Rico an older kid painted some uncomplimentary graffiti  about the post commander’s wife on his backyard “wishing well”. Big scandal, and every kid on post above the age of 12 was interrogated by the provost until the guilty miscreant was nailed.

The family was gone within two weeks when the dad was reassigned to Fort Richardson, Alaska.

My dad got reassigned in the AF from Bergstrom to Minot ND (aka American Siberia) when my mom was pregnant with me. Still not sure what he did to piss off his superiors so much. 

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On 7/13/2021 at 4:18 PM, Patricio Swayze said:



In junior high, a buddy and I would shoplift nudie mags from the convenience store and sell them at school.

 

 

Me and a buddy would go into this one convenience store and steal beer. This is how it would go down:

The night clerk was this weird guy with really thick glasses who might have been a little "special". One of us would ask buy the latest Playboy, open it right there in the store, and then let the guy at the counter look at it. I remember he would make comments like "Look at the tits on this bitch" and such. The poor guy would be so focused on the magazine that he wouldn't notice when the other would walk out with a case of beer under each arm.

 

 

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I'm not sure if this falls into the "stupid" or "forced genius of isolation" camp, but my brother, my older second cousin (lived 1.5 miles away and was basically my older brother), and I devised 3 man versions of most team sports because we lived so far from town (5 miles to the town of 140 people, 15 miles from the town we went to school in that had 800 people) and we were the only kids within bike range of each other.

We would play 3 man football where one guy was all-time QB and he couldn't run the ball.  So the other two would play one on one as WR and DB.  We'd set up a 50 yard field using shoes or something to delineate 1st downs.  QB would call the penalties, which we figured was fair because they had to play with both guys.  Full tackle, naturally, which usually devolved into some form of a fight.  My brother (1.5 years younger) was big for his age and my cousin (2 years older) was small, so it was evenish.

3 man hockey was probably the best from a competitiveness standpoint.  We'd have one goalie and the other two would just scrap for the puck and the goalie would try his damndest to stop everyone.

3 man basketball kinda sucked because you had one guy who was full-time offense and playing 2 on 1 defense was a chore.  I think it turned me into the slow, white, chubby version of Dennis Rodman that haunted ISU intramurals in the early Aughts though.

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Me and a buddy would go into this one convenience store and steal beer. This is how it would go down:
The night clerk was this weird guy with really thick glasses who might have been a little "special". One of us would ask buy the latest Playboy, open it right there in the store, and then let the guy at the counter look at it. I remember he would make comments like "Look at the tits on this bitch" and such. The poor guy would be so focused on the magazine that he wouldn't notice when the other would walk out with a case of beer under each arm.
 
 

Nice technique.

We would reach over the back of the shelf and pull one magazine. For some reason he had the stroke book shelf to the side of the counter, instead of behind him. On that side was where stuff like the pile of Greensheets were, so it wasn’t suspicious to be standing there. He would look the other way, we would grab one and quietly drop it on the floor. Then crouch down to tie shoes, slide mag into sock around the leg and under the jeans leg. Eventually he noticed he was missing some Hustler and High Society magazines and moved the shelf. We had to find a new supply.

Up the road was another store called the Jet Stop. We befriended the Iraqi clerk named Tariq and he would actually sell us the magazines. Screwed up our profit margin.

One day Tariq is telling us (my buddy and I were 13) that he had fucked some chick behind the counter at the store. He told us he liked fat girls because “no matter where you stick your dick, it turns into a pussy.” I don’t think we bought mags from him after that.
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50 minutes ago, Al_4_ISU said:

I'm not sure if this falls into the "stupid" or "forced genius of isolation" camp, but my brother, my older second cousin (lived 1.5 miles away and was basically my older brother), and I devised 3 man versions of most team sports because we lived so far from town (5 miles to the town of 140 people, 15 miles from the town we went to school in that had 800 people) and we were the only kids within bike range of each other.

We would play 3 man football where one guy was all-time QB and he couldn't run the ball.  So the other two would play one on one as WR and DB.  We'd set up a 50 yard field using shoes or something to delineate 1st downs.  QB would call the penalties, which we figured was fair because they had to play with both guys.  Full tackle, naturally, which usually devolved into some form of a fight.  My brother (1.5 years younger) was big for his age and my cousin (2 years older) was small, so it was evenish.

3 man hockey was probably the best from a competitiveness standpoint.  We'd have one goalie and the other two would just scrap for the puck and the goalie would try his damndest to stop everyone.

3 man basketball kinda sucked because you had one guy who was full-time offense and playing 2 on 1 defense was a chore.  I think it turned me into the slow, white, chubby version of Dennis Rodman that haunted ISU intramurals in the early Aughts though.

No talk of bloodshed, poked out eyes, protruding intestines .........

Boooooring........

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On 7/14/2021 at 12:02 AM, mchookem said:

15 year old me and my bff would sneak out my bedroom window on the reg and our 18/19 year old boyfriends would take us to Tejano nightclubs and house parties in sketchy neighborhoods all over Houston.

if anything had ever happened to us our parents would never have found us 😳 my mother didn't learn the extent of our activities until i was well into my 30s and she still got pissed off.

Well after all, you'll be her baby forever...

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My dad got reassigned in the AF from Bergstrom to Minot ND (aka American Siberia) when my mom was pregnant with me. Still not sure what he did to piss off his superiors so much. 
I have heard that at one time, Minot was considered so remote that you could receive hazardous duty pay if assigned there.

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12 minutes ago, ROFL BOX said:

I have heard that at one time, Minot was considered so remote that you could receive hazardous duty pay if assigned there.

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from what I've heard it's pretty fucked up.

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Not smoking, but one summer the “knockout game” got popular. Not punching strangers. One person would hold his breath while a group would push you up against a wall till you briefly passed out.  Coming back too, you’d have a brief high or even really vivid, strange “dreams.”

Crazy stupid and lucky none of us had serious brain damage. 

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On 7/14/2021 at 4:54 PM, Wally Fairway said:

shooting tennis balls out of soup can launchers held together with duct tape, using lighter fluid for a power source

We did that with soda cans. Back before they were made out of aluminum. We called it a pop can cannon. Sometimes we’d douse the tennis ball in lighter fluid so it would catch fire when it launched.

Sometimes we also sort of played hot potato with a lit tennis ball. When it’s burning with lighter fluid you can actually touch it briefly without getting hurt. You want to keep your hand on the underside of the fireball. 

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On 7/15/2021 at 12:02 PM, 956 Worldwide said:

Not smoking, but one summer the “knockout game” got popular. Not punching strangers. One person would hold his breath while a group would push you up against a wall till you briefly passed out.  Coming back too, you’d have a brief high or even really vivid, strange “dreams.”

Crazy stupid and lucky none of us had serious brain damage. 

We used to hyperventilate. We’d bend over and breathe in and out real deeply ten times and then stand up with arms crossed, holding our breath. Someone standing behind you would pick you up and hold you until you passed out. Same effect. I don’t think there’s any danger in it. 

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6 minutes ago, WhatTheBuck said:

We did that with soda cans. Back before they were made out of aluminum. We called it a pop can cannon. Sometimes we’d douse the tennis ball in lighter fluid so it would catch fire when it launched.

Sometimes we also sort of played hot potato with a lit tennis ball. When it’s burning with lighter fluid you can actually touch it briefly without getting hurt. You want to keep your hand on the underside of the fireball. 

Our parents were okay with it; until somebody figured out they could use those big cans of baked beans and fire croquet balls. And then with the damage those caused, all the fun came to an end. 

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May have been 12 or 13 at the time. Dumped several gallons of used motor oil on the road and proceeded to ride our bikes up to the massive oil puddle and slam on the brakes. A few guys had mini-bikes or go-karts and were burning out and cutting donuts in the stuff. Pretty deserted road in a Texas farm town with a population of maybe 50 people. Was the main drag thru town but still...

It was all good until a grownup saw what we'd done. 

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“A friend” Stole an Apple computer system from local dept store by buying baby stroller, coming back in store with box hollowed out & receipt taped to top, putting it over the computer & walking out of store. Then having a cousin send a letter from CA saying he won a fictitious computer programming contest so parents wouldn’t get suspicious.  Pretty sure the letter is still on their fridge today.  

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When I was 15, we were on a hunting weekend at the ranch with a few of my Dad’s close friends and their sons.  On Saturday afternoon, the Dads are all drinking beer and the boys (6 of us between the ages of 13-15) all decide that we are going out for an afternoon duck hunt.  Ranch was a couple hundred acres and had three stock tanks. We weren’t really hunting -  just walking from one stock tank to the next to see if there were any birds of opportunity as we got close.  
 

I don’t remember which one of us did it first, but a game developed where one member of the group would stealthily drop behind the rest of the group while we were crossing the pasture.  The goal was to find a nice fresh cow pie and shoot it at an angle that would spray shit on the rest of the group.  Ricochets? Never heard of ‘em.  
 

It only worked a few times before we were all paranoid as hell of each other and just went back to the house. 

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I grew up in a rural neighborhood outside of a small town.  The neighborhood was pretty much the most upscale one in town, with lots or doctors, lawyers, business owners, etc. living there.  When I was probably about 10 or so, we had a small group of about 8 to 12 of us who would pretend we were a gang and we would roam the streets nearly every night during the Summer, and just do dumb shit.  Almost everybody had a treehouse, so we'd camp out in our treehouses all of the time, so our parents didn't know that we were out wandering around.  One night we got this brilliant idea that we would spread out across the hood, find any unlocked car doors, and at a certain time, all honk the horns until lights came on in the house, then run away.  Anyway, we synchronized our watches, paired off, split up and went around looking for unlocked cars.  Me and my buddy chose the house across the street from his, occupied by one of the most prominent families in town, a 3rd generation doctor.  They lived in a huge Colonial style house set on a hill right in the middle of the neighborhood, and he had an old Ford Model A that he would drive in parades and such.  Anyway, when the time came, we start hearing horns all over the place, but we couldn't find the button for the horn on the Model A, so we just start flipping switches and pushing buttons until we hear the loudest fucking "AHHHH OOOOO GAAAAAAAAA" ever.  The button got stuck and it kept going off.  We tried to make it stop, but said fuck it and bailed out when the house lights came on.  We ran all of the way across the neighborhood and could still hear the AHHH OOOOOO GAAAAA loud as hell for several minutes.

Another night we found out that one of the guys stole something from another, so we decided to put him on trial.  His brother tried to defend him, but he was holding the evidence when he got caught, so it didn't take much to convict.  I was the judge, so I decided to sentence him to 3 jolts in the electric chair, which was just a metal folding chair connected to the sparkplug wire on my go kart.  He agreed so long as we would let him go after and everyone would be cool about it.  So we used a belt to crudely strap him to the chair and I gave it a good pull.  He freaked the fuck out and jumped up and ran off still strapped to the chair screaming.  I guess it hurt.

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9 hours ago, WhatTheBuck said:

 

Sometimes we also sort of played hot potato with a lit tennis ball. When it’s burning with lighter fluid you can actually touch it briefly without getting hurt. You want to keep your hand on the underside of the fireball. 

We would take a tennis ball, cut a small, circular, dime-sized flap in it, pour gasoline in, stuff in a piece of cloth, light it, and then use hockey sticks, brooms, and whatever else to swat the burning tennis ball at each other inside my friend's closed two-car garage. It would leave little flaming trails like the DeLorean in Back to the Future. Sometimes we’d play with the lights turned off. 

Can't believe that didn't end in disaster. Or that nobody's parents ever noticed how much we must have smelled like gasoline. 

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Several of us had dirt bikes growing up. My friend had a good little network of trails on a very hilly and wooded part of their land. We’d play motorcycle tag. Kids on foot would have to tackle someone off a motorcycle and then they got a turn. You’d hide out on a hill behind some brush and jump down on top of someone as they rode by. Pretty amazing no one got hurt.

We also used to regularly play on the roof. Climb up the TV antenna and run around until my grandma got tired of the noise. Then we’d jump off. We were like 7.

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tried to jump a big ass drainage ditch on a go-kart.  
 
didn’t make it…

Kid in third grade, nicknamed Fat Boy by his family, attempted this and lost control. Drove right under a barbed wire fence and it cut his throat ear to ear. He lived and had 300 stitches. I remember that the doctor said that being a fat boy was the only thing that saved his life.

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I forgot about the go-kart hijinks. I had a pretty great go-kart out in what were then the boonies at Lake Travis. Dirt roads everywhere. We figured out we could put a stick into the connector between the accelerator and the carburetor so that the go-kart would go even faster then if the accelerator were floored. Basically just using the connector as our gas pedal. Pretty safe to be reaching behind you to control speed with one hand while trying to steer that contraption faster than it was engineered to go with the other hand. Not surprisingly we rammed that go-kart into more cedar trees and ditches than I could count, usually with us flying ass over teakettle like crash test dummies. When that got boring we decided it would be extra awesome to chunk rocks at the drivers as they passed by. I don't think I need to describe what happened as a result, but the go-kart quickly acquired the taste for blood.

Damn, life was awesome at that age. 

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On 7/13/2021 at 11:20 PM, conVINCEd said:

1. Water balloons launched over a fence at cars on a major thoroughfare.

2.  Went cliff jumping without testing the depth of the water first.  Shattered the bones in my foot.  If I would’ve dove head first, and I considered it, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

3. Ran a bookie operation out of my locker in high school.  Got caught.  Had sufficient blackmail material to get off with a slap on the wrist.

1 - Stupid

2 - Extremely stupid

3 - Awesome

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In third grade, I cheated on my history exam. In fourth grade, I stole my uncle Max's toupee and I glued it on my face when I was Moses in my Hebrew School play. In fifth grade, I knocked my sister Edie down the stairs and I blamed it on the dog... when my mom sent me to the summer camp for fat kids and then they served lunch I got nuts and I pigged out and they kicked me out!

But the worst thing I ever done: I mixed up all this fake puke at home and then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony and then, t-t-then, I made a noise like this: hua-hua-hua-huaaaaaaa - and then I dumped it over the side, all over the people in the audience. And then, this was horrible, all the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other. And I never felt so bad in my entire life!

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On 7/14/2021 at 10:59 PM, High Plains Drifter said:

 

Me and a buddy would go into this one convenience store and steal beer. This is how it would go down:

The night clerk was this weird guy with really thick glasses who might have been a little "special". One of us would ask buy the latest Playboy, open it right there in the store, and then let the guy at the counter look at it. I remember he would make comments like "Look at the tits on this bitch" and such. The poor guy would be so focused on the magazine that he wouldn't notice when the other would walk out with a case of beer under each arm.

 

 

Ha, that reminded me of a thing we did at least a dozen times if not more.  There was a Budweiser distributor in our neighborhood.  At night a semi would make a delivery and the only person there was the truck driver.  He'd open the warehouse door, get the forklift and empty his trailer.  As soon as he entered the warehouse with a load, we'd hustle into the trailer and grab 2-3 cases of beer.  The drivers never even noticed them gone as there was so many cases there.  I'll tell you though running down the length of the dark trailer, hoping that dude didn't come out of the warehouse while you were in the back was scary.

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From about 14 to 16, we'd have bottle rocket wars around January 1st and July 4th.  I still have a small burn scar on my ribcage.

We'd also make dry ice bombs and drop them into dumpsters.

Plenty more I'm not sure about the statue of limitations on, so shhhhhhhh.

We were idiots.

 

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When I was 15 or so the church youth group had a garage sale to raise money for whatever. Bunch of donated junk that included a lot of books. I was doing my turn "working" at the garage sale and looking thru the books when I found one by somebody named Abbie Hoffman called "Steal This Book". So I did. It wasn't as good as the cookbook by that anarchist guy but damned if it didn't have enough to get a kid in trouble. 

Almost left out the stupid shit that resulted.... Smoke bombs. Salt peter and sugar on low heat. Don't remember the exact ratio but it'd make a gooey mess that we'd pour into pot pie tins with a fire cracker fuse stuck in there. Let them cool and then take 'em out to the driveway to light. Super high temp pink flame, billowing clouds of smoke and scorched asphalt that did not please the old man. 

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Stupid shit
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1 hour ago, Bevo&Pevo said:

Another thing we did was catch a train on the move and ride to the next town where it stopped to load.  Train would be slowing for the upcoming stop coupled with the fact there was a slow curve behind my buddies pasture. This was usually a Saturday thing if possible so we could spend the day in town.  Sometimes the ride home was on schedule other times we have to walk home or ?

I was fresh out of boot stationed in Seattle at Pier 36. The train tracks run along Alaskan Way all the way. We were walking back to the ship and had about 2 miles to go when a slow train comes by. I jump on and am like "Ha ha, see you suckers!" without noticing it's not following Alaskan Way. It's heading into a tunnel and picking up speed real quick. I get between the cars and hang on for dear life. I'm way behind the engines but they are all I can hear (and breathe). I begin to reevaluate my life choices. Train is really cooking now and the fumes are thick. How long is this fucking tunnel? Then BOOM daylight and fresh air. The downside is we're moving at least 30-40 mph and I figure it's just going to get faster before we stop somewhere in California. Upside is I see the Kingdome a few blocks away and know where I'm at. I see a road crossing coming up and figure it's now or never. I hang off the side of the car and swing my leg as fast as I can and GERONIMO! Time slowed as I dropped to the gravel. My foot hit and I bounced about 20 feet like the Six Million Dollar Man. I kept at it and my next bounce was about 10 feet then time started to catch back up and my legs did not. I lost my balance came ever so close to faceplanting in the rocks, but I managed to pull it out and slow down right at the pavement. The look of the guy sitting in his car waiting on the train to pass was gold. All in all it was a push because the walk to the ship was just as far.

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