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Stickied postModerator of r/tifu

Welcome to the common fuck-ups megathread. You suggested it, and we listened.


You may be wondering what a "common fuck-up" is. Normally they are topics that are non-noteworthy or unoriginal, the minor things we fuck up. You can view them in our [wiki]. While we are being lax on this rule within this thread, we want to remind everyone that every other rule still applies, which can be found on our sidebar or [wiki/rules] page.

We will be having 2 megathreads a week:

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Comments are lockedStickied postModerator of r/tifu

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Posted by22 hours agoGilded1

Part I: The Beginning

About three years ago, I got a message from a girl who has the same last name as me. We aren't related, and I wasn't really interested in small talk, but she insisted. Let's call her Sandy. So I responded as any un-interested guy would...with short and broad answers. She would message me daily, and conversations would always go like this:

Sandy: Heyy! What's up? How's your day? You at work?

Me: Yes

Sandy: Hahaha so you have plans this weekend?

Me: Probably busy

Sandy: We have the same last name, we should hang out!

Me: Haha

And it would go like this daily. Every. Single. Day. So eventually, I decided to do something about it.

Part II: The Grandmother

One day she messaged me and told me that her grandmother passed away. Now, I may be rude, but I'm not heartless. I expressed my condolences, we talked a bit and Sandy informs me that her grandma had actually had passed a couple years prior. I'll never understand why, on God's green Earth, she decided to tell me this. But then she broke even more jaw-dropping news: their family is going to see a medium to communicate with her! BINGO. I had my opening.

Part III: The Mistake

I'll just cut to the chase: While on Facebook messenger, I told Sandy that I was a medium, and could find out about her grandmother. Am I really a medium? Of course not. Is this a horrible thing for me to do? Yeah. Why did I do this? I have no idea. But it was an adventure.

First, I did my research and found the obituary online, so I knew the exact date of her grandmothers passing. But I couldn't just tell her the date, I had to beat around the bush. I said it sorta like, "she must have passed to the other side while the leaves turn lighter shades of orange..." Idk. I just spiced it all up.

Then, I managed to successfully guess her grandmothers favorite flower (yellow rose), the fact that her grandmother often knit her mittens for Christmas (pretty common among grandmothers), the fact that her grandmother had an assortment of flower-painted china-ware. You know, typical grandma stuff. But Sandy was actually 100% convinced that I knew her grandmother and could communicate with her spirit. Sandy started asking me stuff, and by golly, I somehow managed to get most of the questions right. And when I didn't, I was pretty sly and clever. Like this:

Sandy: What did she get for me for Christmas in 2009?

Me: Hmm. Mittens. Hand-crafted mittens.

Sandy: Omg! She gave me a hand-crafted scarf! You're actually communicating with her!

Me: Yep

I had her thoroughly convinced. But then, out of nowhere, she told me that her mother was watching us talk online. And her mother was the one asking many of the questions, not Sandy. Ohhh boy. OHHH BOY. I decided now was a great time to somehow back out of this conversation and never look back.

I made the mistake of being honest, and I was like "haha yeah anyways I'm just joking about being a medium" but Sandy responded "my mom is very upset with you" and I was like "ok haha sorry."

Part IV: The Chase at Walmart

The good news, if anything, is that Sandy stopped messaging me. A few days past, and then a week, and still nothing. Keep in mind, I've never actually seen this chick in person, I just know shes from my town. Until I saw her in Walmart.

I have never experienced primal fear. You know, the kind of fear where you actually pee a little and go to the bathroom to just throw a little water on it to make it look like you spilled your drink. Yeah, that happened on this day. I saw her in Walmart, and she saw me. She was actually with her mom. I knew they recognized me from my profile pic, and they started coming toward me. I'm not making this up--I dropped what I was carrying and ran out of Walmart.

They followed.

I got in my car, put it into drive, and floored out of the parking lot. I saw them get into a red car and begin following. I honestly don't know this family at all. They could be complete psychos. They turned onto the road behind me, and since there's two lanes, they tried to speed up next to me. BUT THEN. BOOM. RED LIGHT.

As I slowed, they had no other place to go than right next to me. It was a beautiful day, so I had my windows down. I was blasting some sort of rap probably and I swear I could hear them yelling into my car, trying to get my attention. I just ignored them and put on some sunglasses.

I haven't seen or heard from them since.

TL;DR: I convinced a mom and her daughter that I could talk to their dead grandma, made them angry once I disclosed the truth, and then saw them in Walmart....initiating an action-packed sequence that could easily be confused for a Michael Bay film

EDIT: Nice, I didn't even finish the title

EDIT: Hasn't been up 3 minutes and I've already had to edit it twice

EDIT: formatting

EDIT: wow the formatting sucks, so sorry y'all had to read this atrocity

EDIT: Title was supposed to be: "TIFU by pretending to be a medium, ruining a family, and having a high speed chase out of a Walmart parking lot" shoutout to u/Slayten for motivating me to post this Edit!

EDIT: ok so I realize my title mentions ruining a family, and technically I didn't ruin a family and I am a liar. sue me

EDIT: don't actually sue me please

EDIT: it's good to know that my rap career can't take off but a daggum story about me being a jack-donkey to a stranger is getting upvotes to h*ck

EDIT: i would like to take this moment to thank my parents, God, and Uncle Snoop Dogg for making me who I am today.


EDIT: well guys, I'm gonna slap the 'ol sheep if you know what I mean. Probably not haha I made it up. But anywho it means I'm gonna sleep cuz it's super late here in Gmb1t-ville. I had a blast and I'll try to reply to more of you beautiful people tomorrow.

EDIT: My last one, I promise. Some of y'all have been asking what kinda hippity-hop I make. So here. My debut album coming soon, but Uncle Snoop won't be in it :(. Stay fresh, y'all. Goodnight ya filthy animals.

EDIT: grammar


I can barely see as I type this, and I know it’s my own fault. I don’t wear regular contact lenses, instead I have hard gas-permeable plastic lenses called Ortho-K which molds your eye to the shape of 20-20 while you sleep. That way you can wake up in the morning, take your contacts out, and have perfect vision for the rest of the day. Only downside to this treatment is that you must put in the contacts every night or else your eye will revert back to its original shape. I’ve been doing Ortho K since I was 12 years old and I’ve never screwed up as badly as I did last night.

I didn’t want to clean my lenses because I thought, “The last time I put them on I didn’t wash all of the cleaning solution properly and the hydrogen peroxide irritated my if I don’t wash them tonight I won’t get cleaning solution in my eye again.” I thought it was a genius plan. I put the unwashed contacts in my eyes and went to bed.

As soon as I woke up the next morning I knew something was terribly wrong. I could not open my eyes more than half an inch and my eyes felt swollen and inflamed. I blindly staggered to the bathroom to remove my contacts. Because my eyes were swollen shut I cut my left eye with the edge of the hard plastic lens when I tried to remove it. There wasn’t any blood but the whites of my eye immediately turned red. I could still see out of the eye but it hurt to look at bright light. It felt like someone stabbed a hot poker into my left eye every time I looked at a light source.

Obviously I couldn’t drive in this condition so I called an Uber to take me to work this morning. Even wearing sunglasses indoors didn’t help. I work in front of a computer screen all day and wearing sunglasses made it hard to see the screen. My productivity today is slashed in half because I can’t see and I keep on accidentally clicking on the wrong things. I haven’t told my boss yet because I’m worried she might send me home and I don’t want to waste PTO on something that isn’t a vacation or a full-blown illness.

Thankfully my coworkers are awesome and one of them volunteered to drive me back home today after work. Might have to take tomorrow off if my eyes don’t get better soon.

TLDR: Didn’t clean my contacts, cut my left eye and now I’m visually impaired (hopefully this is temporary).


I dropped by my parent's house for a quick visit after work today but they weren't home. Having recently moved out, I still have a key to the house so I let myself in. Sitting on the dining room table was his brand new drone that he got for Christmas from my mom. She bought it for him so he could take aerial photos of the deteriorating shingles on the roof. She doesn't want him climbing up there with a ladder due to his clumsiness and old age so a drone was a good solution (if you can fly one).

I took it outside and fired it up. Rotors spinning, I moved the left control stick up. After about 15-20 ft, it wouldn't stop climbing. Within seconds, it made it's way above the house with help from the gentle breeze and out of sight. In a panic, I ran in the house and through the front door to try and spot luck. God knows where it ended up.

RIP Drone.

TL;DR: Took my dad's drone for a flight when nobody was home, lost it within seconds.

EDIT: Wow this post blew up. For those wondering, it wasn't a very expensive drone (sub $200) and yes, I have ordered a replacement drone. Fly safe kids!


Ah yes, the first day of summer. I slip on a cute sundress and dust of my favorite sandals. The sun is out, I'm ready for the day.

I start to walk to work and notice the sole of my shoe is starting to separate. No biggie - I'll just stop at the store and grab some super glue.

Aaaaand here we go.

These are some nice sandals, so there's one of those padded insoles under the flappy branded sole. I glue the padded one, glue the flappy bit, and then my dumbass goes into autopilot and glues the TOP of the flappy bit. Yep, the part my foot sits on top of. I slip my sandal back on, admire my $3 quick fix, and then sit back as the dread inundates my body.

So now here I am. Panicking at my desk googling "how to un-superglue your fucking foot with common office supplies".

tl;dr my dumbass super glued my foot to my shoe.


Obligatory this didn't happen today, but two days ago, I was sitting by my desk talking to a friend over discord. We were just chatting after a game of League and I decided to check to see if the new knife I recently bought was still sharp (I had been using it pretty often after I bought it). I flipped it open and started looking at it and I spun in my office chair out of boredom. But when I decided to spin, my foot caught the desk and my glass of water near the edge fell, so instinctively, I dashed my hand out to grab it. The only thing is that the hand I used to grab it was the knife hand. So instead of grabbing the glass, I instead stabbed myself in the leg. I tried my best not to scream, excused myself from the call, and went downstairs to look at the damage. It's a few centimetres deep but most likely won't require stitches. Atleast I found out my knife is still sharp.

TL;DR: I was looking at my knife to see if it was sharp, knocked something over, tried to grab it with the knife hand and instead stabbed myself.


Just moved into a new apartment with my girlfriend, we’re college students so we’re not very good with keeping track of stuff. With both of us working crazy hours and sometimes me working 7 days a week. We don’t cook big meals that often but when we moved in we decided to buy so potatoes and chicken and such. Well, that was like a month ago. We put the potatoes in this cabinet that we don’t use a lot so I guess we just kinda forgot they were in there. I was about to leave for the gym when I decided to look for something quick to eat. I open the cabinet and smell something odd. I look around and see the potatoes in the top left. I think, “okay can’t be that bad probably just moldy”. Nope. Nope. Nope. I lifted up the bag to move them to the trash and the potatoes have turned to a half liquid, half solid mush and start dripping everywhere. I almost vomit because the smell just overcame the entire kitchen and dining room. I quickly get a new trash back and throw them in and start cleaning the cabinet while breathing through my mouth. At this point I cleaned up all the juice from the potatoes but the smell is still unbearable. I open the window and blow a fan to try to circulate some air to get the smell out. About two hours later I come home and the smell is still lingering and I don’t know how to get rid of it

TL:DR Left potatoes out, turned to liquid and can’t get the smell to go away.


I'm 23 and last December we got our first family car. We never had a car as a family and these months have been fantastic in terms of ease of transportation, I drive my mom every day to work and get her back home, plus I got a new hobby and saved a shitload of taxi money because our public transportation is non existent at nights. My driver's license was printed last September after a looong and awful experience with driving exams due to immense performance anxiety.

For the past few months on numerous occassions I have forgotten to lock the car after parking in front of our house. My family has noticed most of the times and told me repeatedly to be careful because someone might break into it-technically get into it effortlessly- and steal something or even the car itself. Being very sure of the relative safety of our dear suburb I'm always telling them that there is no reason to be concerned and that no one knows that it's open even if it is. I'm the kind of guy who dismisses other people's safety concerns.

Today they proved me wrong and I fucked up. I park my car and go home, take a short nap and get outside, realising that I haven't locked the car. Fast forward a couple of hours ahead and I pack my things to go the gym, wallet isn't found anywhere. I panic and rush to the car, try to check every possible place, even go to check at a local convenience store where I did a stop and paid money, the last time I had my wallet in my hands. No results at all. Tried to check with 2 different shops' CCTV systems, both were out of recording mode today. Tried to search all bins around the areas of movement because usually thats where they dump stolen wallets, nothing. Tried to find out if anyone reported it to local police, they didnt have any wallet being taken in today in a city of 700k residents.

Now my theory is that the wallet- containg a driver's license, 30 euros in cash and a debit card with no credit- was either lost on the way or stolen by someone either on the street or from the car with the second scenario being the most prominent in my mind and the reason why I am posting here.

So yeah, always listen to your family and pay attention to your personal belongings.

tl;dr didn't listen to my family and arrogantly dismissed their safety concerns, had my wallet most likely and effortlessly stolen from the inside of my car, resulting in at least a 100 euros in damage and the title of idiot for the rest of my life

edit: found it, so I almost TIFU


LTL, FTP, yada yada. Let’s get down to bidness.

I work from home, and it’s awesome - especially when I get hungry, because I can just make some food in my own kitchen! Today, I was hungry - but I had already eaten lunch, so it seemed time for just a small snack to tide me over until dinner. I knew my fiancee would be home soon, so I wanted to make something we’d both enjoy. I do the cooking, she does the cleaning - it’s a great system.

As you probably surmised from the title, I decided it was appropriate to boil some eggs. I set the stove, filled a pot with water, and dropped the eggs in the pot. That’s the great thing about hard-boiled eggs - you can basically just leave them alone and go about your business until they’re done.

Well, my fiancée got home a little bit later than expected. That was fine - I went back to put finishing touches on the project I’d been working on that day. Just as I finished, the dogs perked up and met her as she opened the door. She kicked off her heels, walked into my studio, kissed me, and we talked about plans for the evening for a little while. It was an idyllic day!

Until we heard the sound of firecrackers going off.

She left my studio to investigate, and found what could only be described as the aftermath of an unnecessarily violent avian serial abortionist. I had forgotten to set a timer of any kind and lost track of time working on my project. All the water in the pot boiled off to the point where we were just cooking the surface of the egg shell.

The results were as explosive as you can imagine - the shell fragments and cooked innards of the poor embryos were not just scattered across the floor, but all over the walls, cabinets, and even stuck to the ceiling. My fiancée scanned over the crime scene, looked over at me (I had followed her out to see what had happened), shook her head while stifling her laughter, and said:

“Nope. Not this time. Your turn!”

TL;DR Eggs exploded, spent two hours cleaning the kitchen, and I'm legitimately considering veganism.

Edit: TIL egg yolks aren't actually embryos. That's cool - and also a minor fuck-up, so perfectly fitting!


I just moved into a new apartment by myself, no more room mates.

One of the first things I bought was a pack of 282 wet wipes for bathroom times. Cause my butthole deserves to be treated like a king.

I noticed that in one spot of my apartment, under my computer desk, it was wet. Literally just one oval area and it wouldn't dry with towel or anything. So, I put in a maintenance request for them to come and check it out. They had to put some holes in my walls and look for leaks and stuff. I left during this time and when I returned home it was dry, so I assumed the fixed it. They said there had been some leaking from the top floor or something.

2 days later, the wet spot comes back, oh no.

When I got home tonight I checked my email, and got an email from the complex saying, "Dear residents, we've received complaints about water problems. We checked and notice that a resident has been using wet wipes and flushing them, even though they say flush able they have been messing with the plumbing in the building. We ask that all residents who use these wipes do not flush them anymore, thank you."

TL;DR: I moved in to an apartment, started using wet wipes and destroyed the plumbing of our building. Wet spots for everyone.


This happened about 4 hours ago: Let me start this off by stating that me and my brother have been perpetually pissed at each other for the last week or so and this is just it all comimg to a head.

So this starts off at about 12:00 when me and my brother go to pick up firewood from our grandparent's house. We get there and I end up doing all the work while he sits in his truck and plays on his phone, which understandably pissed me off.

After that we took the wood to our house that we are moving into, and again he sat and watched YouTube while I unloaded it all and then had the audacity to call me lazy.

I went inside to grab a soda and I sat on the tailgate to drink it, when I was done I just set the empty can on the tailgate. After we did some more work we started heading to the truck to leave. This is where it started.

He sees my can and instead of taking it to the trashcan he just picks it up and throws it on the ground and tells me to go get it. We argue for a bit so he's kinda pissed at me already, but anyways I get out and go to the back of the truck to grab the can and he starts driving away to be a dick.

So I jump on the back and to be even more of a cuck he abruptly stops which sends me dick-first into the tailgate crushing my penis and flipping me into the truck bed(I now have a cut and severe bruising on my cock).

At this point I'm so angry that I'm seeing red and just pretty much full rage mode which I'm sure is kind of a funny sight seeing as im 6' tall and weigh 130 pounds (extremely lanky). So I just blindly make the decision to climb over the top of the truck and just start stomping on the windshield. After 2 kicks it cracks and my stomach just fucking drops so I jump off the hood and just kinda stand there and my brother rolls down the window and just screams "you fucking idiot" and speeds away leaving me alone at this house with no mode of transportation.

TL;DR My brother pisses me off and i stomped his windshield until it broke and he left me stranded at our new house.


This one comes from my childhood.

Anyone, who was around in the not-so-golden times of the early graphical operating systems, will remember the gaudy screensavers. 3D texts bouncing around the screen, colored pipes filling the screen in various geometries et cetera.

So, at the time I was living with my grandmother and being the unfunny kid I was, I had the bright idea of setting the text of my screensaver to "Call the cops if I don't come back in ten minutes". It was on for quite some time but she never actually saw the screensaver.

One weekend my mother and I told my grandmother that we're going to go shopping and left the house. Normally we used to go to the market right around the corner and it usually didn't take more than 10 minutes. While at the market, we realize we need a more varied selection of items and drove off to the nearest shopping mall. Mind you having a mobile phone wasn't a given at the time and we didn't have one with us.

When we came back a couple of hours later, my grandmother opened the door, horrified, eyes bloodshot from panic-tears and instantly slapped me.

Turns out she decides to do some cleaning in the house while we're away, goes into my room, sees the "call the cops in ten minutes" text jumping around the screen over a bright red background and immediately thinks that I somehow sent a message to her (pre-internet) to save us.

She assumed she was about to lose her daughter and grandchild and her caretaker hardly stopped her from actually calling the cops. They fought over it nonstop until we came back. Thanks to the caretaker I didn't have to explain how stupid I am to the police when we came back with the groceries.

TL;DR Tried to be funny with a screensaver, almost scared my then-70 years old grandmother to death.


This fuckup started last Thursday and really on came to a head today.

You know how it is, I was just going through life, trying to find meaning, classic coming-of-age stuff.

Last Thursday I had a session with my psychologist, just trying to figure out my problems. Just the usual stuff, like why am I here, why do some people not seem to understand me, what is my true drive in life?

My psychologist actually really helped me, and I know it’s not for everyone, but I was able to make therapy work.

By make therapy work, I mean my psychologist helped me understand, at a fundamental level, that he understood what I was going through, because it was mostly well-known in psychological research.

This was a bit weird for me at first, but then I started to realise more things. I had managed to solve my last cognitive dissonance. In doing that, there were no logical fallacies in my head, so I started to wonder what that meant.

In wondering about it, I was unknowingly testing this theory about psychology, and by talking to my friends and family about it, I was unknowingly verifying that nobody had come up with this exact conclusion before.

So the next thing I did was write a medium article. If you find any logical holes in it, let me know.

TL;DR Here’s a link to the article I wrote

Link to what I wrote


I think I'm supposed to start by saying that this didn't happen today. I've read tifu for a while but this is the first time that I've posted. Anyway, I'm also not sure if this qualifies as a "today I fucked up" since the "fuckup" happened over the course of 2 years.

So, when I started high school I was a typical student. Not really outstanding in anything. Average grades, small circle of friends, etc. I had this one friend though, let's leave her unnamed for now, she started to distance herself from our old group of friends due to her radically different ideals but that wasn't the issue. Now, let me just explain that I don't have a single problem with feminism, I'm all for equality. But when people start shoving things in my face and scream at how me, an average Asian guy, am privileged and oppressing others, I'm going to get a bit defensive. Especially if you don't have proper facts to back them up. (I love to debate)

So this "friend" started to do just that and one day I just snapped. I couldn't take it anymore and decided to argue against her. I don't want to brag by saying I "completely destroyed her" or anything, but I like to think that I won the debate since she stormed of angrilly and blocked me everywhere. So that was the end of it, or so I thought.

Fast forward about and I've basically forgotten all about my former friend. I had a new group of friends and we're all pretty close I guess. Anyway, there was this one girl, let's call her Tiffany, that I thought to be my best friend. We were into a lot of the same stuff and hung out a lot. You could say I developed more than a crush. Turns out that she was friends with a certain someone. The former friend that I had.

I don't remember ever confessing but Tiffany found out somehow and naturally I was turned down. That wasn't the end of it though. We were going to remain on good terms but the former friend found out that I was friends with Tiffany and started to hatch a revenge plot. I didn't know anything at the time but it turns out that she had been spreading a ton of unseemly rumours behind my back about how bad of an asshole I am. And I'll freely admit, I am an asshole sometimes, but what she said honestly made me sound like a raving lunatic. Tiffany ended up believing her right away and didn't even ask for my input. I was blocked on everything that I could possibly have any slight chance at contacting her with and me, being the complete idiot that I am, thought that Tiffany was just busy and I respected that. Come Monday and I'm back to school, my friends tell me about all the rumours that were spreading around and I was honestly shocked. Another good friend of mine also told me about Tiffany and why she hadn't responded to anything.

In the end, a ton of people at my highschool now think I'm a complete asshat without ever having met me and I lost a really good friend.

TL;DR: "Won" an argument with a former friend, she proceeded to ruin my high school social life.


You know what's gunna happen next. A few days ago my mother and my siblings left the house to go to canobie lake for the evening. That meant me, my father, and my grandfather were holding the fort until their return. I did my usual routine, feeding my bluegill and gaming to relieve stress for finals. At around 9:45 I decided I should beat the closing store and fetch me a red bull and some popcorn for the morning. I took out the chicken i dressed and ate 6 drumsticks an hour before. I ran down the corner store before it closed and bought what i wanted. Tired, i walked up the street to return home and have a conversation with my dad. As I talked about this heroin addict in broadway I asked him what in the hell is that fire alarm noise coming from. I opened the door to the living room just to be greeted with a thick fucking ash smoke storming in. My dad freaked out, grabbed his wallet, laptop, and budlight and went somewhere. I ducked and ran across the ash stormy living room to run up to the upstairs neighbors to escort them out. Next was a decision that possibly saved so much and personally was the best decision I have made. I ran to the next store dominican neighbor and yelled about the fire and knocked at the door like there was no tomorrow. He raced to the hose and punched the window to the pantry, leaving a glass cut on his pinky base. My heart dropped because I have no fucking clue where my grandfather is doing. I sprinted to the backyard to try to pry his window open, failed, and opened the backdoor. I found out what my father went. He fucking crawled to the middle of the house while it wss burning, trying to grab the fucking sink hose while the whole pantry was in an inferno of grease or electrical flames (electrical faults may also be a possible cause as there were fires protruding from wall interior) . I heard his voice cursing because it was searing and so smoky he couldn't inhale at all. Next was a total blackout of the whole house instead of the pantry. I have no idea how the whole house lost power. Me in full adrenaline rush, circled around the house until a found my grandfather with his forehead showing a fire "sunburn". The neighbor was yelling in Spanish to his family for the extinguisher in case, and he with the hose, slowed or took out most of the fire in the pantry. There was still fire creeping along the ceiling nearing my room. That was the firefighters' task. The family returned, shook while my father and I were talking with the cops and fire chief who happened to be there. An hour later, the fire was extinguished and we were allowed to enter the condemned house. We entered the pantry, and everything was charred and in ruins. The only thing that has survived was the stored silverware and surprisingly a picture of my deceased grandmother, which was surrounded by burnt wood near the stove. The bluegill survived along with my room, which was untouched except for the strong smell of ash. I released the fish and now I am sitting in a hotel room with my dad and grandfather, my dad coughing up black flem from the fire.

What confuses me is I did not touch the stove knobs, and I shut the oven off. The grease pot was left by my mother from the morning. My father is fearing Jewish Lightning because we were told to move in a month by our new landlord, but I doubt that. Now I am technically homeless and working to buy this apartment near my high school.

TL;DR Accidentally turned on the stove with a pot of oil on top, making house fire that left us homeless


Background info: I have big wide feet and bigger wider shoes.

So my little sister forgot her book at home and asked me to drop it off by the school. Being the friendly grump that I am I obliged and went downstairs to head out with my grandma. It's a nice day, La vie en rose is playing off of the Louie Armstrong CD in the deck, and a guy in a ProfessorX motor wheelchair is rolling along the sidewalk I back up and all is well but I see a car coming so I hit the brakes. Now, an important fact about my driveway: it curves down and then the road curves up leaving a little dip which means that you usually need a little momentum to get out. All this momentum was lost when I stopped so I prepare to give a little gas but to my surprise the car continues backing up on its own, Great. I ease onto the brake so I can shift the PRNDL to drive except my stupid giant foot had just been hovering over the gas and when I slid it over to the left for the brake the edge of my shoe hit the gas first and back I went.
There's now a dent in the back of the family car and my neighbor has a broken signal light and scratched bumper. I know it's not awful for a first accident and I'm thankful it wasn't worse but I can honestly say I'm shaken. It was my first time interacting with the police in a situation where I messed up, the lady decided to file a report which is going to bring both of our insurances up, and I'm stressed af because my brain keeps running scenarios in which the shock hurt my grandma or a little kid was behind me.

TL;DR : Tried to back my car up but the edge of my foot hit the gas instead of the brake and I had my first accident instead.


This was actually about ten years ago, but it pertains to my current life.

When I was ten, I was an outdoorsy kid. Bike riding, running through parks, all that. My sister and best friend joined me. We were quite the trio: the best friend is still my best friend to this day, but our interests evolved similarly while my sister's are totally different.

Anyway, we'd just biked to my friend's house to collect her for a fun day in grass and sun. On the way to the elementary school to use the playground, I was feeling a little daring. We were lined up in a straight line on the sidewalk because the road had no bike lane and ya know, People.

So, I was going fast behind my sister. Not paying attention, of course; and she stopped at the end of the sidewalk.

I was going too fast to use the brakes, so I swerve to the side to avoid hitting her.

Unfortunately life isn't GTA, and my bike toppled over and I fell onto the ground, hitting my head and chin. I was wearing a sturdy $50 helmet, and I am damn glad I was. After the crash it was damaged beyond use.

And I get a concussion anyways.

The next thing I remember is waking up in my mother's room. I think they went home and told her about the accident, and she drove over to take me home.

Fast forward to about a year ago. For a couple years prior, I had awful neck pain. So, I have a bunch of tests done, and it turned out that injury fucked up the growth of my neck. Tendons stretched irregularly and gave me a forward head tilt and a neck with no curve.

That's not even the worst part - the pain spread to my entire body and I was eventually diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. I have not been able to go to school for 5 years. I have to take narcotics and muscle relaxers just to survive a day. I had no teenage life because of the pain, and the disease is literally incurable.

All because of a stupid choice I made when I was a kid.

TL:DR: Got a concussion during a bike ride, develop chronic incurable widespread pain. All because I wanted to go fast.

EDIT: Thanks for all the kind words. I didn't expect this big of a response. EDIT 2: I have tried massage therapy, three different chiropractors, acupuncture, trigger point, physical therapy, electro-stim, simple stretches, yoga. I use CBD oil through a vape pen. Thank you all for the suggestions.


Obligatory: This happened in January of 2011.

I've pulled this story out at parties for the past 8 years, but have never written it down. Strap in, and let me tell you the tale of how I met an exiled Haitian Dictator in the midst of the worst hangover of my life.

About a year after the devastating earthquake in Haiti on January 2010, I was 22, and working as a freelance editor/cinematographer for an Emmy Winning commercial production house in Washington State. In an effort to raise awareness, and in the general interest of storytelling, the company decided to make a documentary in the midst of the aftermath of the quake — during one of the countries “first official" democratic elections. This was the time of tent cities in the capitol city of Port-au-Prince, Haiti -- where displaced communities sprung up wherever they could commandeer space.

I was 22 and ignorant of most of the world, but found myself falling in love with Haiti and the countless people working to improve the harsh conditions of that country.

The house we stayed in during filming was nothing short of a mansion by Pétion-Ville standards — and was owned by an older Canadian gentleman and his Haitian wife. Morgan (I would never use his real name) often boasted about his love of the country, and the major role he played in the Government there in the 80’s — as an operative. He bragged often about his friendship with since exiled Haitian “President" Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier… All of this I naturally assumed was embellished or pure bullshit, but I quickly learned it was not. Not at all.

It was the 6th evening of our stay that kicked off one of the craziest things I have experienced in my life. After nearly a week or scorching sun, countless interviews, and the psychological effects of realizing how fucked up the world can really get first hand — we were invited to a local “Dance Club” for a few drinks by an artist deeply involved in Haiti’s rebuilding. He was somewhat of an unofficial mayor of the area, and we couldn’t refuse an invitation like that.

Here’s where I started my fuck up.

Like any ignorant traveller, after 6 days in Haiti, I felt pretty confident in my understanding of the place, and while waiting for our artist to show up, myself, my producer, and my director started drinking double rum and cokes in what was by far the nicest bar we had encountered in Haiti.

Now… if you have never had "5 Star" Barbancourt Haitian rhum before, you are missing out — it is delicious, and goes down smooth… I certainly hadn’t had it before. So my 1st world trained brain naturally assumed the drinks themselves were light on the alcohol. But, they weren’t. I would later learn that most places in Haiti simply bring you a fifth of rum and some coke and have you mix the drink yourself... So I ordered another… then my producer and director ordered me another…. and one more… until we learned the artist had to cancel, and I had to have another because I --


It was never my intention to get blackout drunk in Haiti. In fact, drinking at all was still relatively new to me at that age. I do however, remember only these moments from the entirety of the rest of that night:

— Laughing with the Security Guards in the parking garage while they held combat shotguns

— Teaching some local Haitians how to dance to “Beat It" in a totally different bar

— Vomiting out an open window while an older Haitian man who had been filling me in on the state of Haiti’s democratic elections begin crying with laughter

— Making out with some French lady from the UN in an empty bathroom stall in what I later learned was a totally different restaurant

— Our production crew driver, Papoute, asking how much I had drank while he drove my basically dead corpse back to our house at 3am in the morning.

I woke up at 8am the next morning, to the sound of scrambling feet, and the screams of my producer telling me we were about to get an opportunity for this documentary that could change everything. I barely heard any of it — all I felt was pain… I promised to get our gear ready while ignoring any and all information that was given to me. I also chose to ignore the bank receipt in my pocket from the night before that said some stranger had pulled $3,500 from his bank account.

I did not get the gear ready. To this day I still feel awful about that. I was the tech side of our crew, the guy in charge of actually filming. My director did the interviews, and our producer set them up, but as great as both of those guys were — they had no fucking idea how to run a camera. However, as an example of how great my producer and director are as people, when they came back to drag me to the car, they understood what state I was in (much of which was their fault for shoving most of those drinks into me with glee), and instead of being angry, simply grabbed much of the gear themselves, and helped me to the car.

I finally listened to what was actually occurring on the gut wrenching car ride to our destination. Morgan hadn’t been full of shit. He had in fact gotten to know “Baby Doc” rather well in the 80’s, and had apparently saved his life at some point… because of this, he had gotten a call from the exiled dictator the night before. Now that Duvalier was back in the country, Morgan had been been invited to meet back up with the man at his safe house to catch up, which was not much more than 15 minutes away. And Morgan decided to invite us.

Imagine the worst hangover of your life. Imagine riding in an old SUV in a country with no infrastructure. Now imagine you are told you will be meeting an exiled dictator charged with human rights abuses in about 5 minutes.

I was then asked if I would be ready to film Duvalier if he agreed to an interview.

I said “…sure.”

I crawled out of the car, dragging a couple backpacks of gear, and walked past the row or armed guards — I was only able to do all this by using the back of my director as a beacon.

We were greeted in the foyer by Duvalier's girlfriend Véronique, who walked us through the dining room at a brisk pace and into the backyard. We saw Duvalier briefly as we walked through — surrounded by 10 or so minions sitting at a long, James Bond like wooden table… He acknowledged us, but mainly kept his attention to Morgan, who smiled and said a few things to him in French as we marched past.

We were rushed outside, where for the next 30 minutes I sipped on tea I refused to not accept and gently rocked back and forth. I was still curious if I was in a nightmare or not, and genuinely wondered if my life would end the moment I vomitted on the floor of the safe house of the one and only “Baby Doc” Duvalier...

My Producer and Director, who had avoided a hangover, almost seemed worse off than me, having full mental capacity and probably coming to stronger terms with what exactly we were actually doing at the moment.

We were finally called in to the dining room, and sat down before Duvalier. He was now alone, but the shadows of his guards were always present in doorways. Morgan chatted him up for a good length of time, and Duvalier seemed far more shy than I ever would have expected.

At one point, Morgan finally turned things over to my director, and asked him to talk a bit about our project. My director turned to me, assessing if we should start up this interview or not, but all he needed was one glance to realize that it would have been a massive mistake.

And so I sat, and watched in a painful haze, as my director showed “Baby Doc” Duvalier how to turn on and watch or documentary pitch trailer on an iPad, while he slipped a pair of “Beats by Dre” over the dictator's ears.

We left very shortly after, with Duvalier promising that when we came back, he would do an interview with us.

But we never got that interview, because a few days after that Duvalier was taken into police custody and charged with a list of terrible crimes during his “Presidency". And like that, our one chance for an interview was over -- but the memory of my hangover will haunt me forever.

TL;DR: I drank so much alcohol in Haiti I blacked out, woke up the next morning horribly hungover, and wasn’t able to film a surprise interview with exiled Haitian Dictator Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier.


This story happened 5 years ago ( 16 yr old ) when I was a foreign exchange student in the US. For the first two months it was kinda hard to make new friends because obviously I couldn’t talk a lot and have interesting conversations with other people. I usually finished school around 2 p.m and I would ride the bus home. My host family lived far away from everything in a nice house, swimming pool, dirt bike track. It was fun for a while but having fun by yourself it gets boring. So I started watching TV shows, and making food experiments. One day I wanted to make an hard boiled egg but I couldn’t find any pan, and that’s how I had probably the best idea ever ! Why not filling a bowl with water, put it in the microwave and let the egg cook with the water being heated. I put everything in the microwave, set the time for around 9 Minutes ( time to boiled an egg in a pan ) and went in the living room to watch some tv shows. Out of almost no where I hear a really loud « bang », as I walk to the kitchen I see tiny pieces of cooked eggs everywhere, I just stand still for a second just to realize that I was really stupid. There was a lot of steam coming out of the microwave and the kitchen was a mess. I guess the steam from the water was at high pressure inside and when the egg exploded it opened the door by itself. It took me an hour and a half to clean everything. When my host dad asked why the microwave wasn’t working anymore I was just like : «  No idea, did not use microwave » with French accent . The next day we were on our way to buy a new microwave and I got the choose the one I wanted. First time I’m telling this story to anyone !

TL;DR : Me exchange student. Bored, put egg with water in microwave cause no pan. Microwaves dead, kitchen mess. Me go buy new microwave with host dad.


Obligatory this happened four years ago or so. I was 13 at the time—17 now. My best friend at the time had a hamster named Indiana Jones. Yes. Indiana Jones. The first day she had purchased Indie when we were around 10 or so, she picked him up out of his cage to pet and hold the little guy in his hand. Indie jumped out of her palm and fell about three or four feet onto the ground, giving himself a limp from there on out. While the original Indiana Jones didn’t have a limp—or was a hamster—we took Indie on many, many adventures.

We would build obstacle courses outside and have Indie navigate them in his hamster ball. Construct massive tube mazes with treats hidden throughout them. Watch little Indie run on his hamster wheel. And on and on. The fun with Indie seemed like it would never end.

One fateful day, my friend announced that Indie was probably going to die soon. I was bummed. I guess when he fell and hurt his leg, he suffered some internal damage that would soon end his life. When the day of Indie’s death came and passed, my friend had put his body in a little cardboard box that we we’re going to take with us on a camping trip with a group of friends and a friend’s mom.

We planned to go on a 3-day trip where we could hangout, do some exploring, and have some fun. We didn’t want the trip to only be full of sadness and sorrow. At least that’s how I would have viewed it.

We were out in the middle of nowhere in the midwest. So it was dark. Dark is an understatement. It was pitch black actually. Our first night out when we set-up camp my friend's mom had freeze dried pre-marinated meat in a ziplock bag to make a stew with.

She asked me to grab it from the back of her jeep. She said it should be in a little cardboard box. I grab the box, pull the ziplock bag out, and dump the contents into our pot sitting on top of the burning camping stove in the middle of our campsite.

After everything had been cooking for awhile, her mom grabs some bowls and begins to use a ladle and pour the stew into bowls for us.

It tastes weird. Really weird.

My friend’s mom comments that there are no bits of meat in her bowl, and we all look down and realize there isn’t any in any of ours. That’s odd. I was the one who put it in there.

Confused, I grab a flashlight and approach the pot. As I look down, right in the middle of the stew, I see the disgustingly dead and grossly cooked body of Indiana Jones. I scream and instinctively kick the pot and stove over, and then watch to my dismay as the contents of the pot spill all over the ground and the lit camping stove begins to ignite my friend’s sleeping bag on fire.

TL;DR: Had fun times with friend’s hamster, hamster dies and plan to bury hamster on camping trip, accidentally put dead hamster into pot instead of meat, eat stew with hamster juices inside it, see dead hamster floating in pot, freak out and kick over stove and light friend’s sleeping bag on fire.


This is pretty short compared to all the other TIFU posts but I've had this crush on this girl (I'm lesbian) since 3rd grade(I'll call her Alexa) and we used to be best friends but lost contact after I went to a different middle school than her. I was texting a friend( I'll call her Kayla) a screenshot of Alexa bringing up my favorite tv show after years of no contact even though we followed each other on social media. I had coincidentally just mentioned that same show to Kayla saying how I wish I had a friend who watched that show too. I even went into great detail about my crush on Alexa. after the explanation of my feelings for Alexa I said something along the lines of "my crush must be a fucking God" and sent the screenshot of her Alexa's message. Turns out I replied to Alexa. I quickly explained the situation. Well in the text I sent I said I've had a huge crush on her since 3rd grade and I'm a sophmore in high school... That's 7 years... I was immediately rejected and then blocked on Snapchat. She later posted screenshots of the ordeal to her Facebook page and TAGGED ME. I'm closeted to most of my friends and only out to very close ones because I have VERY VERY RELIGIOUS family(who I also have on Facebook). needless to say, I have been disowned and/or shunned by several family members. Including my godmother.

Tldr? I was outed by my crush when I didn't even mean to text my crush and was disowned by my godmother.


Yes it happened today, I’m currently waiting for the paperwork to go home. For background, I’ve had known allergies since I was 7, I avoid all nuts and any nut containing products (moisturisers, body washes etc). My minor reaction is swelling to my lips and incredible itch to my throat if I eat it. Luckily I’ve successfully avoiding actually eating anything I’m allergic to for nearly 10 years..

I also am an ER and ICU nurse, have been for quite a few years, seen some pretty nasty stuff. I know the drs and nurses well, we’re a big dysfunctional family.

Today I went to eat my yoghurt and granola- same brand as always that recently has been ‘revamped’.. Idiot me doesn’t even think to double check they haven’t changed ingredients.. crunch into the first spoonful and wonder why it’s a bit different to usual. Might just double check those ingredients huh.

Sup walnuts. I then scored a trip to my own ER, a sweet dose of antihistamines and steroids and am the proud owner of a shiny new epipen.

My consultant gave me a good dad talking to about not having an epi pen and knowing my reaction is quick.

TL;DR: didn’t check ingredients in food, scored a visit my own ED and dad talk from my boss. I also scored a $100+ pharmacy bill for my shiny new epipen.


I work at a retail pharmacy in a less than great area, where drunks and people hopped up on anything in the book come in regularly. Sunday it was about 30 minutes to closing time, and a man stumbles in, and all i can think is "oh fuck no, not tonight". Tell my cashier to follow him around to see whats up with him, and she comes back to say hes totally plastered.


So i look outside to see if he drove, and seeing he was the only one in the store at the time, there was one car parked across 2 spaces. So i go to the office, call the cops, tell them theres a man in our store drunk and he may have been driving. They tell me they're sending dispatch out and they'll be there in a few, just keep talking to him to keep him distracted, and so i did. He was telling me his name, life story, wife sent him to my state to get away from LA, he's been in a few movies and he was talking about writing and standup. Finally keep him distracted long enough for the cops to come amd question him outside. They talk for like 10 minutes, meanwhile i work on closing up the store.

Cop comes in, and shouts to me "the guy has parkinsons, had his medical id necklace under his shirt and he lives across the street, he walked here. Just moved in so you might be seeing him more often, dont call for him again."

Holy shit I wanted to die. I went in the office and looked him up, this guy has a decently filled IMDB page with his face all over it. Can't wait to be featured in one of his standup acts as some jackass that called the cops on him for being disabled

TL;DR I called the cops on a dude who I thought was drunk in my store, he had parkinsons and is a regular to the area now


This TIFU is brought to you by: "Water, make sure you use it in the appropriate settings, otherwise you may end up in a situation like mine."

Whats going on folks. This first TIFU takes place roughly 4 years ago. I was hungry and we didn't have anything to eat as grocery shopping day was tomorrow, so I decided I wanted ramen noodles. I head downstairs and I pass my mom, my brother, and my sister, all sitting on the couch taking care of my 1 year old niece. I head to the kitchen, pull out a bowl and 2 packages of ramen noodles, and went straight to adding everything together.

My mind is apparently too fast for my body because I put the ramen noodles and the seasoning packets into a bowl and threw it into a microwave. Without any water. I though everything was golden so I went into the living room and sat in my chair talking with my family about various miscellaneous things.

About 4 or 5 minutes later, the smoke alarm starts going off in my dining room (it is next to the kitchen) which in turn, causes every single smoke alarm to start going off in the house (screw you networked smoke detectors). I start getting super dizzy from all the squealing coming at me from every which way. On top of the smoke alarm, we were gettinga horrible, horrible, burnt smell slowly but surely wafting its way through the house.

I managed to overcome my dizziness temporarily and made my way to the kitchen and I saw smoke coming my microwave. I opened it up to be greeted with a tear gas smoke of the picante chicken variety and instantly started coughing up a lung.

I pulled the bowl out and started blowing away all the smoke that made my bowl look like a witches cauldron brewing up some eye of newt type deal. I look down in the bowl to see the center of the top brick of my ramen completely black, It wad gone to ramen heaven. The brick underneath of it though had a flame coming up from the center. The bottom brick of ramen committed a homicide on the top brick, but it died anyway because it couldn't control the fire coming from within it so it spread throughout his insides.

We ended up having to keep the windows open for a few days to get rid of the spicy tear gas, and they have not let me live it down at all.

The second TIFU took place about 6 months later, only this time, it was at a friends house doing the exact same thing. After it occurred, I ended up getting kicked out of his house for 2 months as he couldn't trust me to not burn his place down.

As a result of both circumstances, I am no longer allowed to cook ramen noodles. I had to find an alternative to eating ramen just so my family wouldn't have to worry about me accidentally burning everyone alive.

TL;DR Cooked ramen without water twice, smoked out my house and a friends house, and I am no longer allowed to cook ramen.


This just happened this evening and I'm still in complete shambles when writing this. I have done pet sitting jobs before and I've been very successful with them. I've gotten plenty of money from them so I think I'm doing good with that summer job. Where I fucked up is with this current job I have. The owner of the cat is very friendly but is going through a lot of shit in his life. His wife divorced him and he loved her, he left to Massachusetts to go to his step-father's funeral, and he's suffering with depression. I took care of his ex-wife's cat a few times before so he knows I am trustworthy or at least used to be trustworthy.

His cat is a different one but definitely more friendly than his wife's cat. His conditions are very easy. Visit her once a day, give her food and water, clean out the litter box, and provide company. Now he made these conditions easier for me to keep off the stress. When I was with the cat, I loved it. He lets me watch Netflix so I lay down on the couch with the cat cuddling on top of me while I was watching Breaking Bad (it's great so far). The litter box is also very intuitive and keeps it odorless. He of course gave me the keys to the apartment and his mailbox. So what went wrong? I lost the keys.....

How did I lose them? I'm debating with that as I go. I thought I simply tossed them out of my pocket when I wanted to rest at home, expecting to find them easily. (The mailbox key is separate from the keychain) After literally emptying out my room and testing apart everything in my house, they're not there. My new theory is I left them on the deadlock of the owner's door. Now, people can't get in the building without their own keys but if someone robs the owner's house, I'm super fucked. Let's hope that never happens. I did visit and took care of rhe cat earlier today and gave it everything it needs until tomorrow.

Losing keys is the most stupid thing you could do. Especially for a job like pet sitting. But I fucking did it. I likely ruined the vacation of the owner and my relationship with him and my reputation as a responsible human being. My parents are obviously fucking pissed and I have no clue how I could move on with this unbearable guilt. This is 100% my fault. I'm 19 years old but this situation makes me look like an idiotic 12 year old. And a 12 year old is likely better at this than I am. I texted the owner about what happened and an apology and am awaiting a response. I had a great future and if this went well I wouldve gotten respect and money. But nope I have to be an idiot and I lost all respect for myself.

TL;DR: I was hired to take care of a cat, lost the keys to the apartment a day in to the owner who's dealing with a lot of shit in his life.


So, strangly enough, this actually happened today. A few hours ago actually. It's not every day I see a TIFU post that actually happened today.

Recently, I've been on a binge for chicken wings, honey barbecue to be precise. Well, I've always been a wing lover but ever since I realized how completely over priced they are at restaurants and how easy and cheap they are to cook. I've taken advantage, and broken in my deep fryer I got for Christmas.

So, I cut the wings, put them in a bowl of warm water to bring the temp up, and proceeded to wash them. Usually, I let them sit in a colander for awhile to drain, and get in there with some paper towels. I did this mainly because I wanted crispier skin.

Well, tonight, I decided to skip the last two steps and throw them straight into the basket from the bowl I drained. Usually I put them in one at a time into the fryer, but this time I loaded the baskets and ploped em in.

So after plunging the soggy wings into the 375 Fahrenheit degree oil, it started bubbling and poping more rapidly than usually. The sound scared my dog out of the kitchen. I rush to grab the lid so the oil won't splatter all over the wall, and before I even put it on burning hot oil starts rushing out like a volcano.

As quickly as I can I grab the two baskets and yank them out. My very first thought was. "This cannot be happening." My second. "Where's the fire extinguisher?"

After there was no initial fire, I took a deep breath and OhGodWhatHaveIDone.jpg-ed. I, nor my dog received a single burn, but there was about 2 litres of scorching hot oil all over my counter and floor.

If you thought a hot and greasey floor was about as dangerous as it gets, you obviously underestimate my stupidity... So, to clean the mess. I grab the mop bucket, fill it with soap and water, and get to mopping.

It wasn't even 60 seconds after I started I realized how dumb this idea was. Soap+water+grease. Yeah...

So, taking another deep breath and a very rapid smoke break. I Google how to clean up a grease spill. It said put flour down so it won't spread when cleaning. 10/10 idea. Luckily I make pizza dough a lot and had more than a bit of flour on hand. So I used no less than a shit ton of flour, and douse my whole kitchen and any spot I walked to or from. Paper towles with water only made floor dough. So I grabbed a dry wall mud scraper which worked wonders to scrape the soggy flour up.

All in all, I'm very lucky for being unlucky. My dog was 100% unharmed, I was unharmed, and my house still stands unburnt. And I was the only one home so I nobody else has to know how much of a flipping idiot I am. So from now on, I'll be patting my meat EXTRA THOROUGHLY and deep frying outside with an extension cord.

TL;DR Didn't dry water off wings before sticking them in scalding hot oil. Oil shot out like a geyser all over my counter and floor. Tried cleaning with a mop and soapy water, only made it worse. Ended up coating floor with flour and scrapping off. Worked really well.

PS. Typed this short essay on my phone. Please disregard any typos. Ty

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