rSlash - r/TIFU By Filling My House with 1,000,000 Wasps

Episode Date: November 14, 2025

0:00 Intro 0:08 Wasps 2:11 Window 6:25 Pills 7:35 Viagra 10:21 Hair 12:36 Trauma bond Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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19 plus Ontario only. Please play responsibly. Concerned by your gambling or that if someone close, you call 1866-3-3-1-2-60 or visit comixonterio.ca. Welcome to R slash Today I FFed Up, where O.P. accidentally fills his house with 3,000 wasps. Today I effed up by sealing wasps in their nest instead of killing them. We've had a wasp nest in the side of my house for a while now. Last week, they stung one of my friends, so it was time to get rid of them. Given the amount of wasps in and out of the hive, it seemed like a big nest. To guesstimate the size, I would say a wasp entered or left the nest once a second.

all day. I didn't want to just squirt poison down the hole. That would just piss them off and not reach most of it. So I decide to seal the nest with expanding foam sealant. I snuck out in the dead of night and stuck enough foam in that hole to seal half a construction site. Little did I know how terrible of an idea that was. Apparently there was another exit to the nest, going inside the house. The nest is enormous. An average size for a nest. this late in the season is 2,000 to 4,000 wasps. Half our house is currently inaccessible. I sneak down to the basement at night to change the traps.

I keep a hand back next to my workstation. Our cats are not happy. They've been locked into a single room. And they're pissing everywhere to show their discontent. Doing my best Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation, I've gone through seven magazines of the bug assault shotgun with maybe 40 shots per magazine. These wasps are armor-plated and do not die easily. I've injured my arm pumping the shotgun so many times.

I think the most disconcerting thing is how normal it's become. I wake up, grab the shop back on the 60-foot extension cord, and just clear the house as a matter of routine. It's part of rising and shining for the day. Coffee, breakfast, wasp vacuuming, kiss the wife goodbye, time to work. The cold is going to kill them at some point, right? Down in the comments, people are saying that wasps can chew through concrete, so sealing them inside of their nest isn't going to do anything. Today I effed up by cleaning my windowsill brawless.

For context, I'm Irish, and we recently had a big historic storm. There wasn't too much damage done to my home, mainly the garden and a few roof tiles fell off, but on the grand scale, not bad. However, I did leave a kitchen window open on a latch. The window didn't break, but but it did leave a mess inside my kitchen around my window inside, the sink, and the blind. My ma and dad's house had the power cut, so obviously I'd invited them to stay. They said they'd be in my house in around two hours. My ma, God bless her, we soul, is a bit of a clean freak. So naturally, my ADHD self shot straight into hyperfocus.

The ADHDers will understand this. Because of the storm, the contents of the wood chip and mud from the garden were inside my kitchen by the window sill. all over my blinds and sink. So I chose to get right into washing inside the kitchen cupboards and the ice cube trays inside the freezer in true ADHD style. I scrubbed the floor Armageddon style where bacteria wouldn't survive. So I get to the windowsill, which was still muddy, and some plants that were sitting on the ledge had been blown over. These plants were all cacti, particularly a bunny ear cactus plant that I'm particularly fond of. I start wiping the ledge, and this might sound like a humble brag, but I'm rather well-endowed on the knockers front.

The chariots were swinging low, and my sweet bunny ear cactus was being smothered, particularly by my right tit as I was leaning over them to clean the windowsill. The pain didn't even kick in right away. I'd clean the window and the windowsill. I cleaned the blinds and I even sprayed air freshener. It wasn't until I went to get changed and took off my t-shirt that I felt the burn of a thousand sons. When I took my top off, I'm not joking when I say that it looked like the cast of Honey I Shrunk the Kids had went to war with my tits using tiny spears. It looked

like tiny blonde hairs covered my right tit. It looked like my right tit was going through menopause. It was hot, red, and had tiny hairs all over it. The pain really started to kick in. I turned my bathroom upside down looking for tweezers. I found them just as I heard some someone walk in the door. My parents had arrived. My face was purple. Tears were in my eyes. My ma knew that something was wrong. My dad was clueless. His first words upon seeing me and the damage from the storm was he had more wind up my arse. Charming. I had to fess up to my ma. I told her, I've hurt my tit. There's cactus pricks all over my tit. She laughed and said, Excuse me? So I showed her. The gasp of horror on her face. I swear,

you'd have thought that I'd spat on my granny's grave. She starts inspecting and pulls out her phone to use the flashlight. Obviously, she's old, so it takes her two business days to turn on the flashlight of her 2014 Samsung Galaxy. I stand at the top of the stairs with one tit out. She looks and tells me she has a solution. A microfiber cloth, something she's seen on TikTok. Suddenly, I get a case of the giggles. I'm in pain, but I'm effing pissing myself at this idea. She gets the cloth, and rubs it over my tit to grab the small pricks out. It worked. It's excruciating, but it works. But my ma doesn't stop there.

She says, we need to cool your tit down because it looks raging red. You'd think some ice or frozen peas or cabbage. But no, not my ma. She uses holy water to bless my tit. The whole time my father sat on the sofa watching the news. He walked into my kitchen and shouts upstairs. What the F have you done? My mom and I go into the kitchen where my dad is.

He's holding on to my very expensive Roman blinds, with white spots all over it. I'd cleaned it with bleach while I was obviously high on the THC. While I stood there, still brawless with my t-shirt up holding my right tit exposed. Anyways, we had a steak pie and potatoes for dinner. It was grand. My father looked at the steak pie in the eye more than he did me. Today I effed up by giving myself acid reflux for 25 years. I'm 34 years old, and I've had excruciating acid reflux since I was about 8 years old. I've been taking prescription strength medication

every day for 25 years now to control it, and I still have terrible symptoms that sometimes keep me up at night. I've even had an endoscopy under general anesthesia to try to discover the cause. Recently, I noticed that my symptoms tend to start after I take my evening allergy and asthma medication. Incidentally, I've been taking these pills since I was about eight years old. I've always been able to easily dry swallow pills without water. I can take a whole handful of pills dry with no problem, so that's how I've always taken my medication. So, I googled it, and sure enough, dry swallowing pills can lead to pills getting stuck in your esophagus and cause acid reflux. I started taking water with my pills, and sure enough, my acid reflux symptoms disappear immediately. It's

been a few months now, and I still haven't had a single episode of reflux when I used to have it several times a week. Well, O.P., better late than never, I guess. Today I effed up by taking Viagra daily for nearly a year. For a while now, I've been feeling flushed in the face with a reddy complexion. My faces felt hot, prickly, and I've had a very stuffy nose, as it I'm allergic to something. Let's flash back to last April. In April last year I was prescribed fluoxetine or Prozac due to an ongoing mental health situation and it seemed to work for me. My mood was elevated, my temper suppressed, everything seemed to be going fine, until I began a new relationship and everything seemed very good. The connection was immaculate, the vibes were good,

the petting was heavy. However, I began to notice that things weren't biologically rising in the way that they should. I initially chalked it up to being in my late 30s and that these things might take some time. However, the problem persisted and in July last year I spoke to my general practitioner who provided me with the prescription for Viagra. I proceeded to take the little blue circular 100 milligram tablet every morning alongside my vitamins and normal pills of the day. Things were never better. My love life was enviable. I began to feel energy like I haven't felt since my teens, and my general motivation and drive seemed at an all-time high, until the third or fourth week, that is. A colleague said to me, hey, looks like you've been

laid out in the sun too long. I said, I don't think so, hurrying off to consult a mirror to see that my visage was bright, blotchy red. I chalked it up to sunburn or an allergic reaction for nearly a whole year. I tried different creams, lotions, and anihistamines to try to quell the redness, all the while experiencing tremendous tumessence, not to brag or anything. I finally booked in with a different GP with hopes of seeing a dermatologist to curb my red-faced woes. My doctor says, you've been collecting a prescription for Viagra every month for a year, he said, looking at my file. Yeah, I question. You must have a big backstock by now, the doctor says. Are you flirting with me, Doc? I reply. Surely you aren't in need of them every day.

the doctor responds. And then it all became clear. These aren't a daily medication at all. They're to be used as and when required. For those who don't know, Viagra causes one's blood vessels to open more readily, causing easier rising, but also flushing, sinus-stuffiness, higher heart rate, and a multitude of other symptoms which could be attributed to other things. This comment from DJ Gucci, Did the constant raging boners in the middle of work not clue you in? Today I effed up by pulling long hair out of my throat at the dinner table. So there I was sitting at the dinner table, nervously trying to impress my girlfriend's mom. She'd made her famous spaghetti, and I was determined to rave about it, even if it tasted like wet cardboard.

It didn't, thankfully, it was actually pretty good. But that's where my luck ended. Halfway through my second bite, I felt something strange. It wasn't pasta, it wasn't sauce. No, it was a texture that screamed, You're not supposed to be here. I froze mid-chew. My girlfriend noticed,

You okay? Her mom was staring too, smiling proudly, oblivious to the horror unfolding in my mouth. I mumbled something like, hmm, yeah, delicious. But inside I was having a full-blown crisis. I suddenly tried to swallow thinking, just get it down, pretend it never happened. Big mistake. That's when it hit me. It's a hair, a long hair.

My brain went into overdrive. Should I just keep going and pretend that I'm eating spaghetti floss? But then I felt the other end still in my throat. I had no choice. I grabbed the strand, set a quick prayer to the dinner gods, and pulled, and pulled, and pulled. This wasn't a normal hair. This was Rapunzel level. This was Disney Princess Whig territory. The worst part, the hair was coated, and I mean coated with little bits of chewed spaghetti, meat sauce, and God knows what else from my digestive journey. It was like a disgusting spaghetti necklace. My girlfriend screamed, oh my God! Her mom gasped in horror. I just sat there, holding the world's grossest magic trick.

Her mom stammered, I don't know how that got in there. It's probably mine. Oh, great, that's what I needed to hear. I basically just French kissed her mom's scalp. I mumbled something about how it happens and immediately took a gulp of water to wash away the trauma. My girlfriend, she laughed so hard she cried.

Her mom looked like she wanted to crawl under the table. Today I effed up by accidentally trauma bonding with my boss's dog, and now he follows me home. So my boss brought his dog to the office, a cute golden retriever named Max. Everyone was petting him, giving him treats, whatever. I stayed chill. I don't trust dogs that trust everyone. Then lunchtime hit. I was having a rough day.

I sat in the break room alone, eating sad pasta, and listening to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac. Max walks in and looks at me. He lays his head on my lap like he knows. I start talking to him. Not baby talk, but like full on, life's hard, bro, huh? type of stuff. He sighs. For 20 minutes, we just sit there in mutual emotional exhaustion. I think I cried a little. Anyway, now he follows me around the office, growls at HR, tries to get in my car when I leave. Today he brought me his leash. my boss is annoyed his wife says that Max sleeps near the door now and seems distant

I think I emotionally hijacked their family dog do I return him or is this joint custody now that was our slash today I effed up and if you like this content be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day