rSlash - r/TIFU By Accidentally Giving My Mom a V*brator
Episode Date: January 5, 2022r/TIFU In today's story, OP is shopping for Christmas presents for her mom. She decides to buy her mom a nice "back massager." An Amazon package arrives, and OP wraps it up without thinking twice abou...t it. Later, when OP's mom opens the present, OP learns that the manufacturer sent the wrong item! It's definitely a SOMETHING massager, but not a back massager! Get $90 off and a free gift at Sunbasket! Go to sunbasket.com/rslash - Enter the promocode "rslash" at checkout. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
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Welcome to our slash today, I F'd up where OP accidentally buys her mom a vibrator.
Today, I F'd up by unknowingly registering for a fast-track doctorate program
and destroying my life in the process. This might be a happy screw up, but it's definitely a screw up.
I've cried tears of anger and relief today. I started my doctorate in January,
and I've been plugging away at it ever
since. At first, I felt like the workload was manageable, but very soon into the program,
everything accelerated and the homework began piling on. I was assigned hundreds of pages
of reading each week, along with 25 to 50 page papers. I figured that this was just grad
school and it was normal to have to do this. The instructor said that we should expect 15 to 20 hours of work per week for each class,
which sounded a bit much, but I didn't think too much into it. Things really started to
take a toll on my life by the second quarter. I was falling behind in my work and unable
to contribute to any of my household responsibilities. I became depressed shortly afterward and was having
suicidal thoughts. I was barely able to make it through each day. Some days I could barely
bring myself to brush my teeth or shower. My fiance was amazing during all of this and
took over managing the home front while I worked and focused on my schooling. I had to start
waking up at one o'clock in the morning to get my schoolwork done before teaching, and he would stay up every night to make sure that I woke
up on time. Then get a few hours of sleep himself before going to work at 5. We got to see
each other for about an hour each day, if I didn't fall asleep before dinner time. Today
I received a notification that I'll be completing my coursework next quarter and I'll begin my research
phase in the spring.
I didn't think that I was graduating for at least three more years, but I have less than
a year and a half left.
On the one hand, I'm glad that I'm almost done, but on the other, I put myself through
absolute hell by clicking on the wrong registration button.
My fiance is thrilled that this is almost over, and he thinks that he should get an honorary
doctorate for his help.
I definitely agree.
OP, for Christmas, my brother got me one of those subscription boxes that comes to your
door every month, and when he was filling out the order, he accidentally checked a full
year instead of six months, which is what he intended to do.
So I'm sure he knows exactly what you're going through OP.
Today I have to buy accidentally giving my mom a vibrator that I thought was a back massager.
Okay, so I'm a 15 year...
Okay, so I'm a 15 year old girl and I do secret Santa with my family every year.
This year I got my mom.
We wrote down things that we wanted on our list and my mom had put down a back massage.
It's basically like this deep tissue thing that's in the shape of a gun. I found one on
Amazon and I was so happy because it was cheap. So I placed an order and this is where
I think that I screwed up. I didn't open the box that it came with.
I just wrapped it up. So today my family opened our gifts. My mom opens hers and sees the Amazon box.
She opens the box and sitting inside of it is a vibrator. She looks at me and we all bust out laughing.
vibrator. She looks at me and we all bust out laughing. My brother and dad kept making jokes while I sat there and shocked. I explained myself and they understood, and I got a refund
because that is definitely not what I ordered. No one's mad, but I am so embarrassed. Well,
OP, if it makes you feel any better, you're gonna have to listen to this story every single Christmas for the rest of your life. Today I f'd up by accidentally dosing my entire adult family
with LSD. This happened a couple of weeks ago at Thanksgiving. My boyfriend and I recently moved
into a bigger place together with a few spare bedrooms in a large kitchen. And to celebrate,
we decided to host Thanksgiving at our house this year. Usually, all family meals are held at my aunts house, but she recently got divorced
and unfortunately had to sell the house.
This year, we wanted to invite everyone we could since 2020 was limited to just my parents
and my boyfriend's mom.
We invited my parents, my boyfriend's mom, three aunts of mine, two uncles, and six cousins
all between the ages of 10 to 19.
We prepared for two days leading up to Thanksgiving. We made pretty much everything ourselves,
except for a few appetizers. I've recently been getting into baking, so as a treat for
the adults, I made some edible hard candies with a small, 10 milligram, dose of THC in each
candy. We had dinner early around 4 p.m. and all the kids were in the media room playing a racing
game on the PlayStation.
Once everyone finished their food, we asked the adults that they'd like to partake in
my edible experiment, and being a California family fairly used to cannabis, everyone agreed.
We had our candies and waited roughly one hour, and when nobody was feeling anything,
we decided to have another. I figured the amount of
food that we had just consumed plus my novice edible producing skills led to a dead batch.
So, I reached way back in the fridge to get the jar of store-bought gummies that I purchased
months ago from a dispensary. I found the gummies, but they were in a plastic baggy instead of a jar.
I assumed that my boyfriend had repurposed the jar or transferred them to a bag when
we moved.
Every adult in the family had one gummy, and we decided to take a little walk, but my
boyfriend stayed behind to keep an eye on the kids.
We left around 5.20 pm, and we started to feel our gummies around 15 minutes into the
walk.
The sky seemed to be a brighter shade of orange after the sunset, and a few of us got the walk. The sky seemed to be a brighter shade of orange after the sun said, and a few
of us got the giggles. Around 30 minutes after we left the house, I got a call from my boyfriend
sounding very nervous as he asked, did you get these gummies from the jar or from the baggy?
I said, the baggy, and I received a large sigh in response. Then it hit me. We had eaten the gummies
from the dispensary with friends on the night of our move.
We'd had lots of drink that night and it totally slipped my mind.
These gummies were like 2-3 year old LSD gummies that we purchased at a music festival in 2018.
My boyfriend didn't have to say anything for me to realize the enormity of the screw-up
that I'd made.
I told him to stay calm and not to let the kids leave the media room until we got home. He hid the remaining
gummies in our room and I told my family we should probably head back. The next 20-30
minutes of our walk back were filled with laughter and lots of pit stops to examine Christmas
lights, mailboxes, and trees that my family members were enormously impressed by. I, on the other hand,
was trying my best to figure out how to tell my parents, aunts, uncles, and soon-to-be mother-in-law
that, instead of a small dose of weed, which they're all familiar with and used to,
they were in for an 8-10-hour experience with good old Lucy. I decided to wait until we were
home in case any of them freaked out. We arrived home, and all of my family members were in stitches laughing at each other's jokes and
impersonations. I asked my boyfriend for advice, but he seemed overwhelmed and just wanted
to lie down for a bit. My 19-year-old cousin said that he'd watched the kids, so I went
back upstairs to join my family. I realized that that as far as accidental drugings go, this
was a pretty ideal situation, except for the five miners in the house. I took my now fully
tripping family out onto the porch to sit around the fireplace, and calmly informed them
that they had taken 125 micrograms of LSD, and said to the 15 micrograms of THC that
I told them they'd taken. My mom and one of my aunts started to hyperventilate a bit, and my boyfriend's mom went to find her son.
I call my family down, and they all quickly became enthralled with the fire pit and the stars,
briefly interrupted by the occasional question about trip length, and asking if the kids were
being taken care of. They called me an idiot, and I agreed with their judgment.
I left them outside to enjoy the stars, and I went to check on the kids my boyfriend
and his mom.
The kids were all eating popcorn, watching Star Wars, and hardly noticed me coming in.
But my oldest cousin could tell that I was out of sorts, and I had to clue him in.
He laughed, and once again asserted my idiocy, and I once again agreed.
He told me not to worry and that he'd put all the kids to bed and just to relax and
have fun with the family.
I checked in with my boyfriend and his mom, and they both started howling with laughter
when they saw my defeated face enter the room.
I finally started to join in on the laughter, making fun of the ridiculous situation I'd
gotten us all into.
They gave me a hug, and we went out to join the rest of my family.
They were all in completely different zones.
The uncles were focused on collecting more firewood and trying my collection of whiskies.
The aunts and my mom were intently listening to each other tell stories and staring at their
wine glasses.
One of them was playing candy crush and had a huge grin on her face. My boyfriend
sat down with me on a couch, his mom joined the aunts, and the next several hours were
as wonderful a family gathering as I'd ever experienced. We all spent hours talking, laughing,
drinking, and sometimes getting lost in the bathroom or kitchen, but mostly spending our time
outside. Everyone handled themselves incredibly well, and I think it
probably led to my boyfriend's mom feeling much more included in my family than she had
before. A few people had trouble sleeping, but they just put on old, I love Lucy episodes
until their trips ended, and they passed out. Overall, it could have gone much worse.
And I am so grateful that nobody got hurt or was too overwhelmed. I think the acid had
lost some of its potency, which certainly worked for our benefit this
time.
The next morning, the kids made breakfast for everyone, and absolutely trashed the kitchen,
but I didn't mind.
We had breakfast, and I received a few more years from my family, and they informed me
that they wouldn't be imbibing any more gummies at Christmas, but it was all in good fun.
Honestly, OP, this doesn't seem like a today I f'd up at all.
It seems like an accidental success.
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Today I have duped by flushing my kidneys.
A few weeks ago I saw an interview on ESPN about Kevin Love's diet and he mentioned that
he tried to drink his weight and fluid ounces every day.
I play basketball often and I'm trying to clean up my diet so I immediately thought,
wow what a fantastic idea I should try that.
I invested in a 52 ounce water bottle and tried to drink it four times daily.
What followed was the worst month of my life as far as GI issues.
I felt awful all the time.
I lost a ton of weight because my appetite was totally gone.
I had awful cramps almost nightly.
I had spent several hours on the toilet every day, either peeing or trying to poop out my cramps.
I couldn't drink any alcohol without throwing up,
so going out with friends was totally out of the question.
Basketball became unbearable.
I would sweat bullets anytime that I was slightly warm,
which was really grossing everyone out.
I couldn't sleep well because I always woke up
in pools of sweats.
I always felt full and my eyes felt like they were about to pop out of my head constantly.
It was awful. I felt very, very sick all the time. I had heard of water intoxication,
but I assumed that took several gallons in a short period of time. So I kept up my routine for the entire month.
I should also mention that I hate water.
I would typically chug the water bottle as fast as I could so I could get it over with.
I was ingesting a lot of water very quickly over an extended period of time.
Genius!
Finally I go to the doctor.
I explain what's going on and my doc immediately starts ordering all kinds of tests.
Very worried about some kind of stomach cancer, crones, celiac, ulcers, etc.
My doctor knows me well, and he's in all around great guys, so he knows something is definitely
wrong.
I'm a little freaked out at this point.
I'm calling my mom, and I'm thinking about taking a semester off college.
I'm just so mentally exhausted of feeling terrible all the time. It was rough. My doctor sees
that I'm a little panicked and he notices my giant water bottle hanging onto my backpack.
He says something about how well hydrated I must be. I laugh and proudly tell him that
I drink that thing four times a day. He laughs at first, then looks at me.
Wait, are you serious?
Yep, for how long?
Oh, a few weeks.
When was the last time you drank Gatorade or ate something salty?
Oh, I don't know, a while I guess.
The doctor looks at me with sheer disbelief and my stupidity.
You flushed out all of your sodium you moron?
Go drink some Gatorade and eat some salty popcorn.
A six pack of gatorade and a few days of only a few glasses of water a day, and I'm back
to being perfectly healthy for Fsake.
Today I f'd up by thinking that I'd kicked food poisoning's butts.
I am the dumbest person alive.
Last week I apparently ate something that was contaminated. I spent eight hours
on Thursday, starting at 3 a.m. puking out my digestive system three to four times every
hour. I slept on the bathroom floor when I could. It really sucked.
Well, today's Tuesday, and I figured, surely by now, especially since I haven't thrown
up since Thursday morning, I'm fine. Everything's fine. Sure, my stomach's been a little upset, but that's just anxiety about getting sick again.
What better way to celebrate my victory? I decided than a big bowl of chocolate cereal in the car
on the way to class while my dad drives. Ha ha, laughs my digestive system. You fool! And yes,
I am the fool. Forty minutes before my first exam of the day starts, and my stomach is trying to escape
from its mortal flesh prison.
I've learned my lesson.
I'm never eating food again.
I wish that I was never born.
And down in the comments, the last crow says,
If there's anything, if there's anything I've learned, if there's
anything I've learned from food poisoning, it's that humans are capable of pooping, peeing,
and vomiting at the same time.
Who knew?
As someone who's had food poisoning before, I can confirm.
Today I have to, by cooking several hundred, maybe thousands of maggots alive.
This story begins with me living in a student house, as you may
suspect. We had this food bin that was maybe one cubic feet for disposing of any food ways that
was covered in thumbnail-sized holes for ventilation. It came with degradable bags, which were a bit too
good at their job though. And after them bursting several times while we were emptying the bin,
we decided to stop using the bin altogether to save the hassle of cleaning three days of rotten food off the floor again.
We put the bin outside the kitchen in our 2x1 meter yard on the kitchen window sill and
forgot about it.
All except for one of us.
One of my roommates, Alfie, decided it was a waste to stop using the food bin, so he continued
to put food in it every day, unbeknownst to
the rest of us. Eventually he fills the bin, but then, conveniently, he also forgets about
it.
Four months later, I arrived home one day after university with a different housemaid,
Miles, to find that that suspicious background smell that's been creeping through our kitchen
for the last few weeks has now become a full frontal assault on the nose.
Miles and I searched the kitchen up and down to no avail, and decided to get rid of all
the rubbish and suspicious looking food around the kitchen to see if that would help.
After filling two garbage bags, Miles went to throw them in a skip in the alley out the
back, and after opening the door, we quickly discovered where the smell
was coming from.
The unused food bin.
I followed him out, and I opened the bin to confirm our suspicions.
It was several times worse than my worst nightmares could have predicted.
The bin was full to the brim of a hellish concoction, consisting mostly of maggots with
the rest being a green
brown slime, the remnants of now half decomposed food.
Until this point in my life, I had a strong stomach.
Smells had never bothered me, and as tough as this smell was, I was able to bear with it,
and I tried to remove the bag from the bin.
This was mistake number one.
The bag, unsurprisingly, had disintegrated at the bottom.
And as I lifted it slightly, all hell literally broke loose from the bottom of the bag.
The bin, covered in holes, is now full of maggots and ratchews and is rapidly leaking
all over the window sill.
After maybe a minute of panicking, I decided to hell with Alfie's food bin,
it's going in the dumpster. I pick it up with maggots and slimes pewing everywhere and run to the
dumpster where I tossed it into oblivion. When I got back to our yard, it looked like a scene from
a horror film, but particularly the window sill. It was covered in thousands of maggots, all squirming
around in an abundance of this
abhorrent slime. The smell was almost unbearable now, so I did what any sane person would do.
I found every cleaning product in the kitchen and lathered the hell spawn with it.
There was antibacterial spray, bleach, washing up liquid, furniture varnish, you name it.
I had no time to think, I just threw it on these smelly,
obnoxious, wriggling little bastards. The smell dies down for a minute, replaced with a false
aroma of chemical safety. I needed a way to remove the maggots and slime without touching them,
or dirtying anything else, and to clean and sterilize the area. That's when it hit me.
That's when it hit me. Boiling water.
This, and I cannot stress this enough, was my second and most fatal mistake.
I boiled- I boiled a full kettle and took it to the alley.
I could have tasted my contempt for the thousands of disgusting creatures festering in front
of me had it not been for all the chemicals taking over my senses.
Without haste, I unceremoniously start dumping the freshly boiled water over the scene in front of me.
Incidentally, I can tell that it's working as the slime starts peeling from the windowsill and the maggots,
now turning a paler, yellowy white, starts sliding off the windowsill onto the ground.
That's when it hits me.
The smell.
The English language does not possess the word to describe the smell. It is, to this day,
beyond my comprehension. I imagine what Dante smelled on the edge of the seven circle of hell
smelled like potporee compared to the whores that infested my nostrils that day, my strong stomach left me the
second the stench registered in my body, and I instantly threw up everywhere.
And then I threw up again and again.
I ran into the house, but no matter where I went, the stench went with me.
I soon realized the smell was ingrained in my nose, my head, and my throat.
I threw up again.
I stole a basin from under our sink and sat in the hallway still throwing up for maybe
20 minutes straight.
Soon after, I stripped and showered, desperate to get away from it, but it still followed
me.
Miles, after composing himself, was able to flush the rest of this unholy mess into the
alley, and we
let candles everywhere to try to coax our brains to consider some other aroma, other than
that of the cooked maggots.
To this day, the sight of just a speck of mold, or even just a piece of fruit that's gone
bad, sends me into waves of nausea, writing this has been physically difficult, because
when I think of the details,
my body wants to throw up. It feels like some love crafty and horror that I bear the
knowledge of this smell. I know that it exists, and yet I can't even truly believe that it
does, because the nausea and pain that it produced in me and the long-term effects are
like nothing else that I've ever experienced. I can't even think about it without it coming back.
Today I have to, but please, for the love of all things good in this world, do not make
the mistake that I did.
Opie, I don't think you have to worry.
I think most people out there have the common sense to know that they shouldn't make a cup
of maggot tea.
Because that's basically what you did. You boiled a kettle and then
steeped maggots in steaming hot water. That was our slash today I f'd up and if you like
this content be sure to follow my podcast because I put on your Reddit podcast episodes
every single day.