r/PointlessStories

I was at a grocery store last month, completely zoned out, probably looked like i was solving a complex equation but i was actually just trying to remember if i needed eggs. This guy reaches past me to grab something and then just stops and goes "sorry, i just have to say - you look like someone who reads actual books. like physical ones. i don't know why i notice that about people but i always do"
and then he grabbed his thing and walked away. No number, no "so what are you reading", nothing. Just disappeared in the store
The funny part is i had literally just returned a library book that morning
Somehow one of the nicest things anyone said to me this year, which probably says something about my year but let's not go there...

Did you have something like that?

I sat down, opened Netflix, and started scrolling. I watched trailers, read descriptions, added things to my list (and removed them). Before I knew it, two hours had passed and I finally decided to go to bed.

I got home from work last night and immediately had to run to drop off my younger son at practice. When I returned to the house, my older son was there, having just returned from his own practice and grabbing a quick snack before he had to dash to his next activity of the night. He's 16, an athlete, and can EAT. I told him I was going to make a tater tot casserole for dinner and it'd be hot and ready for him when he got back to the house later and he fist pumped. I know he was really fist pumping the casserole and not my effort to make it, but I'm still living off the high of earning an enthusiastic fist pump from my kid for something I did. Nothing better.

I saw that baby and his head was bald, the dog was at a picnic with the baby and the dawg went up and licked the babies head. I saw it and it didn’t think much of it. The parents just wiped the babies head and gave the dog a treat.

I have a job, I pay a mortgage, I sort my rubbish, I tell my daughters to eat their vegetables. Somewhere along the way I guess I stopped pretending to be an adult and I actually became one?

But tonight, I am home alone. It was dinner time an hour ago. I was very hungry, so I devoured a piece of bread with some butter, without even getting out a plate. Then, I made hot chocolate, because I love hot chocolate and I fancied it. Then I was still hungry... I had crackers straight from the bag. A banana. Some greek yoghurt. Pistachios.

Now I am on the sofa eating chocolate, feeling fairly pleased with how this evening turned out. Tomorrow I will eat vegetables again.

When I was dating my now husband, I lived down a long narrow road with oddly spaced speed bumps that were hard to see in the morning and afternoon when tall skinny trees along both sides would cast parallel shadows across the road

I'd slow down for bumps that weren't there just to slam into the ones that were, and bc I kept getting it wrong, I was having trouble learning where they were

One day I was in my bf's garage where a can of neon orange spray paint gave me the idea to mark the bumps, but he said there wasn't a lot left so I figured I'd go buy some when I could get around to it

Few days later, I'm leaving for work and all the speed bumps are bright orange up until the last one, which read "JACK LOVES JILL" (but with our names)

The paint eventually faded away, but I had learned where the bumps were by then

(Our love has yet to fade away, despite the occasional bump here and there)

If I ever decide to travel by sailboat, and in case the motor goes out, and we get stuck and there is no wind I know exactly what to do.

I will bring my vacuum cleaner. I will go below deck and get it. I will take out the filter. I will walk up on deck with it. I will test to make sure there is no wind, or that it is blowing the opposite direction I need it to. I will then proceed to empty the filter in the opposite direction I want the wind to blow.

And voila. The wind will decide to blow, and blow the dust all over me and move the sailboat. If I want to be really sure I will wear a white coat for good measure, and really chuck the dust out into the air.

At lunch time today, I decided I wanted to have a specific energy drink with my meal.

I have only ever drunk one can of an energy drink, as I grew up before they were a thing.

A month ago, my high school daughter and I were at a store where the name of the store used to tell you the price of everything in the store, but now it is just a reminder about a faceless Vice President of Marketing who made a suggestion about holding the line on pricing in the face of rising costs shortly before they were told to hand in their keys to the executive washroom and be off the premises in ten minutes Or Else.

As we stood in front of a small refrigerator containing energy drinks, my daughter told me that she was very angry (she was exaggerating for humorous effect; the vibe she was giving off barely rose to the level of "miffed") at a certain energy drink company because each individual can was so expensive. I noted that the price of each can in the refrigerator fairly demanded that the store be merged with another store named "The $1.75 Store, Plus Tax" so that the combined total of the resulting store name would begin to resemble the price of the individual cans of energy drinks.

She then proceeded to explain that there was only one good flavor offered by this specific energy drink company, all the other flavors tasted like battery acid. But this one flavor was "the bomb" (which I took to be a good thing), especially when it was cold.

We left the store without purchasing any energy drinks. I was willing to buy one for her (refer to the first clause in the first sentence of the next paragraph), but she declined on principle.

As I am desperate to secure my child's love (especially since she will be going off to college later this year which means that I am running out of time to do so), once we returned home I did a little research on the web, and found that I could buy a case of that flavor at a per can price that was much less than the price she had complained about. (I could probably buy "Lemon Double Citrus War of Attrition Battery Acid Flavor" or any of the other battery acid flavors at that price as well, but my focus was solely on the flavor desired by my daughter. I am nothing if not focused.)

So I ordered a case of 24 cans, and a few days later it came, and when I presented it to her, she was duly pleased. She is a smart young woman, so I did not need to say, "Don't drink it all at once," even though every fiber of my being was straining at the leash to say it because as Dad it is my sworn duty to give out lots of helpful, obvious advice.

Since I had never had an energy drink before, I asked her if she minded if I had one, too, and of course she said that was fine. So we put a couple cans in the refrigerator, and then later we each had a can of cold energy drink.

I liked it.

So that was the one can of energy drink that I have ever had in my life, as I mentioned about 27 paragraphs earlier.

Today I decided to have another. But I had bought the case for my daughter, so in my legalistic mind they were now hers, and I therefore felt that I should ask for her permission before drinking one. (I am pleased to say that even without being told not to, she had not drunk them all at once.)

So I grabbed a can from the basement refrigerator, and then went to her room to make my request. (Since she is a senior in high school, she is in that weird last three months of school where the seniors hardly ever have to actually be in school because everyone has kind of figured out that nothing much is gonna change one way or the other anyways, so she had come home early today.)

As I neared her room, I put my hand over my mouth and started making a respirator sound (shi-puhh, shi-puhh, or is it puh-shaa, puh-shaa?) and then stood in her bedroom doorway and said in a deep, muffled voice: "I am taking another can of energy drink. Pray I do not drink another." She said fine and laughed politely, much in the way that you might laugh for a small child who proudly told you that they made up a joke: "Do you know what Old MacDonald has on his farm? Hamburgers, french fries, and milkshakes!!!"

That was this afternoon.

This evening, for reasons that you would no doubt find so incredibly humorous, and then touching, and then enlightening in the metaphysical sense that they would possibly make you want to go to a monastery in Tibet to become a monk and live out your days in meditation on the meaning of suffering and impermanence, I read a longish note that I had written in 2012 or so to her older brother when he was about 16 years old, battling a stubborn case of "messy room." The note, a masterpiece that received many awards in its day, implored my son to pick up the clutter in his room and to put away his clean laundry when his stepmother was kind enough to fold it and put it in a basket in his room.

I had previously told my son he was free to use the work area in the basement, but on reconsideration I decided that giving him permission to increase the number of areas in the house in which he went about his cluttering was not wise, so at the end of my note I told him that unless he had a specific large project that simply could not be accommodated within the confines of his work space in his own room, I was rescinding my permission to use the basement work area. I closed the note by writing:

" I realize I am altering the deal.  Pray I don't alter it any further.  (puhh-shhh....puhh-shhh)"

(OK, now we know that it is "puh-shhh...puh-shhhh"...man, I used to be so much smarter.)

So here it is, almost 15 years ago I wrote an allegedly humorous note to my son in which I make a Darth Vader joke, and then tonight I happened to reread (unintentionally, and for unrelated reasons) that note on the very same day that I had earlier made basically the same joke to his younger sister.

I assume that one of the universe quality control techs decided that a 50-year-old Star Wars reference can probably be safely dropped from my parenting repertoire. But I have such a small amount of material, I don't feel that I can give it up.

By the way, the second can of energy drink that I ever drank in my life (earlier today) was just as good as the first, which is not surprising since they were the same flavor. But if you would like to know why I had never drunk (drank? drinked? gedrunken?) any energy drinks before, I will point out that it is currently 1:46 am, I am wide awake, and I drank that bad boy twelve hours ago.

I went to grab food earlier and the cashier handed me my order and said "enjoy your meal." Without thinking I immediately said "you too". Then I realized she wasn't eating anything, she was just there doing her job behind the counter, and I just stood there for a second like my brain fully short circuited. T_T She didn't even react.. just smiled at me, but I was internally dying the whole time walking out. I don't know why my brain does this in public but it keeps happening over the smallest interactions.

This was back in the 90s. I was a very shy kid and I started my period at age 10. I had to go to the restroom at school to change my pad and I was mortified that the pad wrapping made so much noise. My friend asked me what I was doing. I ended up just telling her the truth, which embarrassed me and put me on the spot as she bombarded me with questions about what it was like.

I decided to write to Always and asked them if they could make quieter wrappers.

Nothing came of it. They just sent me a thank you for my letter.

Yup, you've read that right.

On one occasion, a bee crawled onto my face and then onto my lips, stubbornly trying to get inside my mouth. This happened when I was meeting someone for the first time and I played it cool.

The second time, it flew into my mouth as fast as it could, and I immediately spat it out.

One landed in my beer without noticing when I took a sip. I grabbed a chunk with wiggly legs that I had almost swallowed from inside my mouth. I felt mortified by the taste of all its legs while surprised by how light it felt in my mouth.

The most terrifying time, a bee flew onto my eyeball. It wouldn't fly away and crawled around as I tried my best not to blink to prevent it from stinging my eye. I panicked and eventually it flew out. I ran away. I learned that some bees like to drink our salty tears.

Today, I covered my entire face when one flew near. It decided to buzz near my ear, then proceeded to crawl inside my eardrum. Loud buzzing was heard inside what felt like my brain. My flailing hands and movement helped it fly out, only for it to then try to go inside my nose once I moved my hands. With closed eyes, I blindly started smacking the person I was with to get their attention to help guide the bee away from my insides.

I feel like I may need therapy now. This all happened in a the past few years. I am going to cover my entire face with my shirt now when a bee flies near, but it'll probably find its way up my other holes. I may need to wear a protective net when I go out.

I was ubering back to my hotel at the witching hour, and, much to my surprise, the driver was a very attractive, refined looking woman. Admittedly, I was pretty high on edibles, but she had this distinct ‘aura’ about her that was hard to describe.

I had the feeling I was in the presence of a powerful witch of some sort. She didnt say much, but when she spoke it sounded like she had a russian(?) accent maybe. I couldnt believe it…why was this woman driving for uber in the city at 3 AM😭Im not trying to sound like im stereotyping or anything, I was just surprised tbh.

During the ride, she put some black leather driving gloves on. As I watched her do that, she looked at me in the mirror, watching her do that… My high thoughts were definitely racing 😭

When I got out of the car, she turned her body to look at me and looked me directly in the eyes and told me to have a good night. Again, I was shocked.

Low key wish I tried to ger her #. I still think of her from time to time.

I’ve collected and used fountain pens since high school. I got my first Waterman pen in ‘00 at high school graduation. I currently have 30+ pens which I use in regular rotation. (My favorites are Pilot Metropolitan 🙂 and Kakuno). Me and DH aren’t rolling in money, so we frequent 2nd hand stores. I was rummaging through a bin of pens at a thrift store and spotted the Montblac cap design and thought, “Knock off?” Nope. Completely legit Meister rollerball ($300+) pen sitting in a tub of ballpoints. ✒️

When I was a kid, I was at a school with a predominantly non-English speaking student population. I, being the lazy kid I was, didn’t bother to learn how to speak any other language than English. With the little fluency I had, I managed to somehow have a whole ass conversation with a kid a year below me about whether toothpaste was necessary for brushing your teeth. At least, that’s what I understood at that time.

She had asked and I said no in arabic. And that was it, that’s all I literally said. She clarified that my answer was no, it was not necessary. Then, she proceeded to call me disgusting, said my breath likely stinks and that I have poor hygiene, and all sorts of insults. And how did I know? I may not understand the exact words but the first thing you always understand in a new language are cuss words right?

For the next TWO years, I kid you not, she would hurl insults every time she saw me. She would do it even in front of her friends. I never tried to talk to her or tell her in English that I don’t understand for some reason. I just thought this was an absurd thing to be so passionate about. The fact that I had not said even a word to her every time she insulted me should make her realize that I did not even care, so you would think this energy is so not worth spending.

I did tell a friend that I managed to “offend” her when she decided to “scold” me in front of said friend and walked away. My friend proceeded to chase after her and explain to her I literally did not understand a word she said. She apologized and rightfully looked embarrassed. We did not backtrack to what the conversation even was.

So now it’s been like what, a decade later? I came across her profile on Facebook and well, what do you know, she’s a dentist.

P.S I’ve always used toothpaste and I don’t know why I said I didn’t.

My husband in bed, looking dreamy and trying to get my attention

Me with a mosquito racket: there are mosquitoes!

Him, giving me sexy eyes: there are no mosquitoes

Me, swatting: there are 3 mosquitoes!!

Him, beckoning: there are no mosquitoes

Me: there are, too!

Him, with a smile: so are there 3 or are there 2?

Me: fuck it there are no mosquitoes

(there were mosquitoes. Bites all over my backside but worth it)

During a business trip to New York, I was staying at a friend’s apartment on the Upper East Side. Every morning around 6 a.m., I’d leave the building for work and, strangely, I kept seeing the same beautiful cat sitting near the entrance.

At first, I thought it was just hungry. So I started giving it whatever I had with me — a snack, part of a sandwich, sometimes even part of my lunch. But as the days went by, I began to feel like the cat was actually trying to tell me something. It would meow, walk a little ahead, then turn around to make sure I was following.

On the fifth day, curiosity got the best of me. I decided to follow it.

The cat led me to the door of an apartment in the neighboring building. And the moment I got there, I noticed a very strong smell of decomposition. I immediately called the police.

They discovered that the owner of the apartment, an elderly woman in her eighties with no children, had been dead for several days.

I still think about that cat sometimes. Honestly, without it, nobody would have realized anything was wrong for a long time.

My wife found some old Pokémon games in the closet and decided to list them on eBay. Within half an hour, eBay had decided that she was some sort of menace to society (which is fair) and permanently suspended her account. She’s now going around in circles with the customer service AI chatbot and presumably being placed on some kind of FBI watchlist of people who have old Pokémon games. I think I hear helicopters approaching our house.

Back in the 1970s my grandparents decided they needed a couch that fit the two of them and their three sons all at the same time. My grandpa has always been the farm kind of handy and my grandma has always been an environmentalist. They drew up a design for the perfect couch that could fit five that would be made with reclaimed wood and organic nontoxic latex foam cushions.

Since it was the 1970s the reclaimed wood came from a fallen tree from their yard and the latex foam had to be mail ordered from South America along with the glue it needed. The fallen tree was hard rock maple, a ridiculously strong and dense wood. It's what bowling lanes are made with. Literally wood you can hurl a bowling ball at and it won't make a dent. It's also incredibly heavy.

My grandpa is great at building things but he's not a furniture designer so the couch was really a church pew. An incredibly overbuilt, heavily reinforced church pew so their perfect couch could last forever. He had sort of just eyeballed the angle for the back rest so it was nearly 90 degrees and absolutely unbearable to sit on. It was so heavy that it took all five of them to get it in the house even with my dad and his brothers all being teenagers at this point. The organic latex foam was so thin it just felt like sitting on bare wood because it was too expensive to buy more than a small amount. It also smelled like latex for months and they never used the other 95% of the special glue.

So they gave up on the perfect couch. Not before trying to use the bulletproof church pew for weeks but they did eventually go back to the combination of old chairs and couches they had before. Actually getting rid of it or buying something new was out of the question based on who they both are as people. They also got divorced and never designed anything together again, which was for the best.

When my dad went to college a year or two later, the couch was the only piece of furniture he was allowed to take with him because no one ever used it. He managed to get it to the house he would be living in, but no one was willing to help him move it again so it just stayed there. It's probably around somewhere still, that thing was built to withstand a fucking atomic bomb.

No sé si hice bien o mal pero fue cine total.
Publiqué una PS2 vieja que tenía juntando polvo, cae un flaco re desesperado tipo “amigo te la compro YA”. Viene en una moto sin patente, me paga TODO en monedas y billetes doblados como si hubiera robado un kiosco.

Hasta ahí raro nomás.

A las dos horas cae un patrullero preguntando por “un tipo con camiseta de Boca y mochila de Spiderman”. Yo pensé “listo, fui cómplice de algo”.

Resulta que el loco había discutido con la novia, vendió el microondas de la casa, compró la Play y se fue a lo de un amigo a jugar al Winning Eleven “para despejarse”.

La novia lo rastreó por MercadoLibre.
Nunca vi una historia tan grasa y tan triste al mismo tiempo.

This is a story from back in 4th grade and I just remember it every time i see a spider.

I used to get bullied back then. My bully locked me from outside the washroom, right around the time school had ended and we had to catch the school bus. So I was just there banging on the door and crying like a kid, because I guess I was a kid.

Finally the janitor came in and found me. I had missed my school bus. They helped me tell a teacher and call up my parents but they couldn't pick me up because they were both working and far away.

Then I was just waiting for the bus to come back because they said they'd help me get home. I was under a tree and i think I yawned? and a spider fell in my mouth which i spat in my hand. I wasn't cool back then so I was very scared and grossed out. Now I really like spiders although i wouldn't want them in my mouth.

The bus came and the driver asked me about what had happened and i explained to him about the bully. He said that I shouldn't worry. It was really cool that I got to ride back home on an empty bus. It was very kind of them.