rSlash - r/Tifu By Getting Arrested in My Underwear!

Episode Date: March 10, 2020

r/Tifu Honestly, this is one of the most ridiculous scenarios I've ever seen on TIFU. OP is attending her best friend's wedding, when the bride suddenly realizes that she forgot her insulin. So, OP heads off to the bride's home to pick up the insulin, only to realize that she doesn't have the keys! She realizes she'll need to break into the house by climbing into the second story window... but it'll be hard to climb wearing a super-tight wedding dress, so the only solution is to take it off! Watch on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olVO_q-Xgbs Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Welcome to our slash today I F-Dup. We're O.P. strips down into her brawn panties, breaks into a house, and gets caught by the police. Today I F-Dup by calling out of work and wasting a sick day all because I literally cannot stop farting. Recently, I came across this vegan food at Trader Joe's called Timpay. I'm not vegan, but I'm trying to eat cleaner. I meal prepped quite a few meals for the week and last night I had two containers of pre-cooked Timpay. I woke up early this morning with the most god awful farts one could imagine.

My stomach churned and ate. Every minute a new fart was coming out. And the smell was rancid. You could smell it and literally think I messed my pants. Never before in the history of being alive did I think I'd have to call out of work for farting too much. But it's 5.20pm on the west coast and I'm still letting them rip. I'm pretty sure I cannot handle soy. Seeing as how this Timp A product is pretty much a soy based vegan food. Never again will I eat this stuff. I've never had such terrible stomach aches before. Today, Tepic stands for Today, I farted uncontrollably. Today I effed up by teaching my toddler to metal-saying, ba-ba-black sheep.

So as with all toddlers, they're like a sponge and like distraction. Growing up, when I was changing her, she would kick and mess about, which made it all the more difficult. To stop this, I would teach your things like where her body parts were and sing songs. It usually happened in this order and she would repeat the songs and sing along with me. Over time, the songs weren't having the same effect, so I started to sing them in a deeper voice to try and distract her better. The one usually after pointing out her body parts was Bob-Bob-Black sheep.

She's going to be starting preschool soon and while it orientation, the teacher was asking her normal things like how she is and does she know this and that, etc. She got to naming Body Parts, which my toddler did excellent in. This is where the F-UP happened. As the teacher finished asking her questions, my toddler, as if by Pavlovian conditioning with the last Body Part question, dropped her head in eyebrows and started to belt in the most gnarliest metal core voice ever. Baa baa black sheep. Baa baa black sheep. If you've never seen a child sing in a low-baritone voice, it's quite a shocking and terrifying sight to see. Like Damien from the Omen only with pig tails. Her mother, who I could tell was not aware she could do this, looked me in the eye, and

then the teacher, who, quite frankly, didn't know what to say as she was shocked. The teacher tried to collect herself and said, I'll see you guys a little bit later on, which has never before sounded more like, you guys must be teaching your kid to worship the devil. Today I effed up by making my one night stand breakfast. I got out of a bad relationship a few months ago and only recently felt good enough to get out of the house again. This was my first ever boyfriend and he turned out to be a piece of garbage, so I was obviously a bit hesitant.

But some old friends from high school were visiting my town and asked if I wanted to go in a bar crawl with them and I figured, effid, it's not like anything will happen. Other than getting drunk with some pals, so why not? At the first bar, we went into a group of guys from my university. I'd seen some of them around, but never spoke to them before. One of my friends decides me she's gonna force me to get out of my shell and drags our group over to talk with them. I'm extremely quiet, like weirdly quiet to most people, so I end up sitting

in the corner of our booth and not saying anything, just drinking and feeling awkward. Well one of the guys in the other group, let's call them Adam, is also being weirdly quiet. So my friend and his friends, who are already tipsy, decided to make things as awkward as possible by making us play truth or dare. Except, we have to drink when we don't want to answer something. There are a lot of personal and adult questions, neither of us want to answer, so we end up drinking quite a bit. And by the time we're done with the first bar, Adam and I are on a whole different plane of existence from everyone else. And it turned out we had a lot in common and he was pretty cute and we were goofing around and laughing the whole time.

I started to get butterflies in my stomach and not just from the alcohol. Adam has my exact sense of humor and is really sweet and kind. We wander off and start having deep drunk conversations about feeling left out of things and how annoying it is when people say things like, can they speak? I tell him I'm walking home and he offers to walk with me. I know where this is going, but I'm drunk enough that I don't feel nervous. Plus, I feel like I have a genuine connection with this guy. Our friends are wolf whistling as we leave, and instead of being embarrassed, I feel weirdly

proud. So we get to my place, talk and smoke for a bit, and do the deed. I wake up earlier than him and decide I'm gonna make a nice breakfast. I wanna impress him and show him I like him, and everyone likes a good breakfast when they have a hangover, right? So I sneak out of bed and make scrambled eggs, French toast, and sausage. I prefer almond milk, so I use that for the eggs and French toast. He wakes up and tells me I look just as cute sober. At this point I'm convinced he's the love of my life. He sees the breakfast

and gets excited and I'm like yes, my plan worked. I'm gonna get to his heart through his stomach. We eat and everything is going great for a few bites. Then he makes a weird face and clears his throat. His eyes start to widen and he asks me if there were nuts in the bread or something. I say no, but I use almond milk. He jumps out of his chair and says, call an ambulance right now. I'm freaking the F out. He's wheezing in stuff and looks absolutely panicked.

I ask if he has an Epipin and he shakes his head no. So I call an ambulance and tell them he's having anipin and he shakes his head no. So I call an ambulance and tell them he's having an allergic reaction and paramedics come in to haul him off. This happened last weekend. I haven't heard back from him since. I found his buddy and confirmed he isn't dead. I guess accidentally triggering a severe allergic reaction doesn't lead to romance. O.P. don't be too hard on yourself. To be honest, he's probably just as embarrassed as you are. Maybe even more so.

You said to yourself that both of you are weirdly quiet, so it might just be that introversion speaking. I say take the first step reach out to him, offer to give him an apology dinner with no nuts, and I think you guys might be able to work it out. These side marios all you can eat is all you can munch a soup, sell it, and golly-homemove. be able to work it out. For your holiday season, Real Canadian Superstore has more legendary ways to save than any other major grocery.

Until December 6th, get a free Jumbo Point Seta when you spend $300 or more. Plus, PC Optimum members can get select PC or no name cheese at $3.99. Conditions applies to fly for details. Today I effed up by telling my dad about the Karen meme. My family loves to overshare. This lack of filters sometimes has a tendency to get people in the trouble because not all the information is provided even when it's meant harmlessly. My parents are a bit older. Prime. Okay, boomer age. I was talking to my dad the other day on the phone because his birthday dinner was a few days later.

I asked how my mom was doing and he goes on to tell me a story about how my mom and aunt, whose real name is Karen, were at the store and the cashier made a mistake. My aunt went off in the cashier and asked to see the manager. My mom was mortified and tried to calm her down, but she wasn't having it. I then mentioned to my dad, that's such a caring thing. He goes on to say, yeah, your aunt does that a lot. I tell him, that's the funny part, the care and meme is a real thing. It's when an entitled, typically white woman gets angry at the smallest mistake and asks for a manager. My dad found this hilarious and I explained in more detail.

I send him a few links to sites explaining it online. He finds all of this hilarious and she even has the Karen hairstyle. This sends him down the Google Images rabbit hole and the next few days he sends me random memes of Karen's doing Karen stuff. Adding, you're on did this last week, or I think this one is about your aunt. This leads up to his birthday dinner with extended family. My dad's birthday dinner is going well. Everyone's having a good time, good food, and drinks, etc. Suddenly, my aunt, sitting a few seats down from me, leans forward and loudly shouts down the table.

Hey, OP, what's this whole thing about making a meme about me? I respond, huh? She then tells me my dad sent her all these memes about things she's done. He didn't give her the context that it's a generic meme from the internet and what's it about. Now my aunt thinks I made all these memes about her real life offense. At this point, the entire family thinks I created this meme on the internet about my aunts, antics, and public.

There's a back and forth discussion about it being really rude of me. She's pulling a caron and starts chewing me out. Meanwhile, I'm looking at my dad, like WTF, back me up here. My dad finally steps in to say that this is just a random viral internet thing and that I didn't make these up behind my aunts back. Even after explaining, she's a bit irritated. It's apparent she's embarrassed that she's so much like a Karen and couldn't tell the D- and couldn't tell the difference between the stories online and her own encounters.

OP, for your dad's birthday, I think you need to give him the gift of R-slash. I have a sneaking suspicion that he's gonna enjoy this channel. As a matter of fact, everyone should give their parents the gift of R-slash. Also, OP, you should have been like, let me guess. You want to speak to my manager? Mom, do you have anything to add? Today I have to, by getting busted by the cops while in my brawn panties, after breaking an entering to get my friend insulin.

This weekend, I wasn't one of my best friend's weddings. The bride, my friend, is diabetic and forgot her insulin when we went to the church, so technically, diabetes is the villain of the story. No problem. I volunteered to go back to her house to pick it up. I like a mission. Me against diabetes. After a morning of bridal stuff,

my adrenal glands were more than happy to kick some dust off. The bride says the back door's unlocked, so I dash to our house, drifting the corners in my mind, finding the apex in the road. The back door is not unlocked. No doors are opened, but I am not taking the L on this. All of us bridesmaids had gotten ready at her house earlier, and one of the other bridesmaids

had been leaning out her window on the second floor smoking. I gaze up at her window, praying that it's still unlocked. I know this house. I went to high school with the bride, snuck out of that window onto the roof, and clambered down the tree beside the house many times. Only this time, I'm in a strapless, tight, mermaid-style dress. Driving a stick in this constricting skirt was challenging enough. There's no way on God's green earth that I can climb a tree. It's barely above freezing, but this is a DEF CON2 situation. I'm in the backyard, and there's only one house that can see me.

I accept the crazy low odds that the grandparents at the live next door will notice me. Decidedly incorrect assumption because apparently, Gramps has assigned himself the position of Overwatch. I kick off my heel, sling off my jacket, it's barely above freezing, and tossed the Morticia Adam-style bridesmaid's dress over the fence. I pat my old friend the tree and begin to climb. I'm sure I sloth climbed it, but the adrenaline pushing through my veins has me convinced that I ninja warrior that thing.

The windows unlocked, urah. Once I open it, I ungracefully fall into the room from the roof. I don't care because the distinctly male movie announcer voice in my head is sexually broadcasting the trailer for the movie I'm acting out. The crowd cheers when my icicle toes hit the hardwood floors. I'm killing it. The room looks like a girl bomb exploded.

Curler's hair dryers make up bags and clothes cover every square inch of the carpet. I super-conged Fuhap over the piles of the dresser where she said her insulin bag would be. It's not there. I rifled through the piles, shaking like a scared dog from the cold. Nope. To the bathroom. Nope. A massive rock drops into my stomach when I can't find her insulin. The clock is ticking. I launched down the stairs two at a time and run through the houses my eyes scan every surface. I find it on the kitchen counter, a time, and run through the houses my eyes scan every surface. I find it on the kitchen counter, a full floor away from where she thought she left it. Boo yeah, I'm back in the game.

I shotgun pump my arm and grab the bag. I make sure I can lock the kitchen door from the inside. I'm mentally checked. Yep, I left all my stuff outside. I step into the garage, shutting the door behind me. As I'm jiggling the locked door knob, I hear the whoop whoop of a police car. I slowly turn and do some weird half-raise of my hands. There are two...two cops in the driveway.

All official and stern looking. In a split second, I see a flash of images in my head. I'm in the back of the police car, handcuffed, search warrants are getting issued. I see the courtroom, a stern judge, and an unforgiving jury. In a moment of catastrophic cognitive dissonance, I swear I heard my brain misfire. The only thing that's absent back to reality is that I kid you not. My boobs are two frozen ice cones. I'm going to have the pleasure of explaining this train wreck to the officers while wearing nothing but my fancy thong and lacy strapless braw, because genius me didn't want panny lines, and my hot guy will be wearing a tux to the wedding. Enough said, I could have vaporized on the spot

from the humiliation as the officers approached me. I don't even know what I said, I virtually shove the bag of insulin at the older cop and vaubed it out the preposterous details of this Texas-sized oove that landed me in my skibbies, coming out of a house that I technically broke into. They try to keep a straight face, but then I start to laugh. It begins as a small embarrassed chuckle, but then it takes on a life of its own, commandeering all of my self-control, and flinging it into the icy wind with the ashes of my dignity. I HELL! Tears run down my face, and I shoot strangled inhuman sounds at them. I could make no sound other than drawn-out vowels. God, it's embarrassing. The cops are trying to ask me questions, and they get mully the dog.

All I can do is wheeze or tear and shake from the cold. Finally, I beg them to let me put my clothes on. One gallantly swings his arms and tells me to proceed to the backyard to recover my assortment of clothing cringely clean to the fence. Their gentleman about it as I jump and shimmy into this hell contraption of a bridesmaid stress. They ask me if there's anyone that I can call from the family to confirm the story. I call the bride, she doesn't pick up.

I call the bride's mom, she doesn't pick up. I call the love of my life. He picks up on the first ring. God, I love that man. He doesn't know why I left the church, but immediately goes into solve this problem fast mode. He gets the brides dad, it gets sorted. My guy is waiting in the parking lot when I pull up. Panic rolls across

his face when he sees me, thinking, I've been crying. I laugh the rest of my makeup off with him when I tell him the story. We're getting married soon, and I think the brides should have to perform a commensurate task to climbing a tree in freezing weather in her underwear. I'm definitely taking suggestions. This all happened in a decently small town. This story has ripped through the gossip mill like Taco Bell through the colon. My oldest brother is apparently friends with the young cop that I could never make myself look in the eye. Yep, never living this down. And I'm never more grateful to have moved away. Also, life pro tip. I'm an idiot, so maybe you all know this,

but don't hang your phone to the police. Put the call on speaker or show the text from your hand. Do not physically place your property in the care of the police. Advice from a law student who was more than happy to lecture me for 20 minutes at the reception. I'm pretty sure I've seen this exact plot on Pornhub.

That was our Slash Today I F'd up, and if you don't hit the like and subscribe buttons, then today, you F'd up.