rSlash - r/TIFU Oops, I Stole a Cat

Episode Date: October 24, 2026

0:00 Intro 0:05 Kidnapping 3:20 Sybau 7:12 Extra dose 8:49 Big tip 10:44 Needle 13:50 Bird and the bees 15:25 Eye sight Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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If you're ready to finally launch your business before Black Friday, go to Shopify.com to start your free trial. That's Shopify.com. Go to Shopify.com today to hear your first. Welcome to R slash Today I FFed Up, where O.P. accidentally steals a cat. Today I effed up by kidnapping my neighbor's cat for three days. For context, I have an orange tabby cat named Nugget. He's six, fat, lazy, and has never once shown interest in the outside world. On Monday, I opened the front door to grab a package, and apparently that was the day he decided to see what's out there, because I came back inside and I couldn't find him anywhere. Checked under the bids, in the closets, behind the washer, the usual hiding spots. Nothing. I spent

the next few hours walking around the neighborhood at night, shaking a treat bag like a lunatic. Around 11 p.m., I went to check the back porch one last time, and there he was, sitting by the steps. I nearly cried. I scooped him up, brought him inside, and immediately locked every door like he was going to try to escape again. Here's where it starts going wrong. He was acting off. He hissed at me when I picked him up again. He wouldn't sleep on my bed like he normally does, and he kept sitting by the front door just staring at it. My reasoning, he'd had a scary night outside. He was traumatized, give him some space, totally normal. Then I noticed the food situation. I was filling his bowl, and it was disappearing basically twice as fast as usual.

I even said out loud to my roommate, I think he's stress eating. She agreed. We've both just accepted that my cat had come back from six hours outside with anxiety and a new metabolism. Fast forward to today. I'm scrolling our neighborhood Facebook group on my lunch break and see a post from a lady two houses down. Missing, mango, orange tabby, super-futable. friendly last seen Monday evening. I remember laughing and thinking,

Poor lady, half the cats around here are orange tabbies. Good luck with that. That evening, I'm sitting on the couch, and the cat that I've been calling Nugget for three days is in the kitchen eating. Then I hear a loud thump from the guest room. Out walks Nugget, my actual Nugget, covered in dust with a look on his face like I was the one who had inconvenienced him. Turns out, he had ripped a hole in the fabric under the guest room box spring and had been living inside the bed the entire time, sneaking out to eat when nobody was looking. That's why the food was disappearing so fast. There were two cats eating it. I just stood there looking back and forth between the two of them while my brain tried to process that I'd been harboring a stranger's pet for three days. So I put Mango in a carrier and walked him down to the neighbor's house.

She opened the door, saw him, and screamed, Oh my God, where'd you find him? In my kitchen. I explained the whole thing, and luckily she thought that it was hilarious. Mango immediately started purring and hid bunting her, which he never did once for me. And honestly, that hurt a little. She's been updating the Facebook group post,

and now half the neighborhood knows me as the cat thief. The funny joke to do here, also cruel but funny, would be to... would be to give the neighbor your cat and see how long it takes her to notice. Today I effed up by not knowing what S-Y-B-A-U meant. I've never felt older in my life. I'm a woman in my late 20s, and my two friends Jay and A, who are both women in their 30s, were talking in our group chat about Halloween plans.

We go to this event every year, and the tickets just released. Jay pointed out prices increased quite a bit this year. I responded and said, I haven't even figured out what I'm going to be, and I ended that message with S-Y-B-A-U. Now, I consider myself to be chronically online. I pride myself on being on top of the latest references, pop culture trends, etc. And as the youngest in our trio, it usually falls on me to explain some of the younger references to my friends, not in this case. Guys, the entire time I've seen this word, the hundreds of comments I've seen using it, I've always I always thought that it was a made-up word, like skibbitty.

Just gibberish that meant boo-hoo, or something along those lines. And I said it in my message directing it at myself. Like, I haven't even figured out what I'm gonna be. Boo-hoo, woe, wo is me. For context, Jay and I had just had a long conversation days ago about prioritizing kindness and building each other up in our friend group. We had just cleared the air on a few things and agreed to cool it on certain jokes and language that were derogatory in nature, even if they were,

jokes. It was a great, vulnerable conversation, and I left it feeling confident that we were on the same page. Well, shortly after I sent the message, I'm cruising away at work, happy as a clam, oblivious, unencumbered, until Jay messaged me off the group chat. She said she didn't find it funny or conducive to the conversation that we just had, that she was upset prices were so expensive, and I responded with, S-Y-B-B-A-U. I immediately tried to clear it up and tell her that I was, in fact, talking to myself. Cue this message. You were telling yourself to shut your bitch ass up? You know that scene and saving Private Ryan where young Matt Damon is looking down at the camera and turned into a decrepit old man right before our eyes? Comparable. For months,

for months, I'd been using this not knowing what it meant. I confidently explained it to my older coworker who said she was going to start using it with her kids. I said it to my partner, My friends, my dog. I managed to explain this to Jay, who immediately understood and thought that it was hilarious. Yay for immediate communication? Lesson learned, I'm old and overconfident. Luckily, my friends love me anyways. I recently had one of these moments myself with the slang A-H-H as a replacement for A-S-S. I couldn't really figure out what it meant. It took me a while of kind of just reading a couple of comments. my conclusion is that it must stand for as hell. So someone would say, ah, this person is goofy, ah, so I thought it'd be goofy as hell.

I didn't really understand why it was double H instead of single H. So in my brain, I rationalize it as people emphasizing the H. Goofy as hell, like that. Then I realized people are just trying to evade their profanity filters on TikTok, and I felt like an idiot. I mean, it happens, O.P. Sling evolves so insanely quickly. with the internet and no one like sends out memos. You know what I mean? It's not like, oh, here's the latest slang. Make sure you update your your mental dictionary. No, you just go on TikTok and suddenly

you see a new word you've never seen before and everyone is using it and you have no clue what it means. And you kind of have to just guess. Sometimes you guess correctly. Sometimes you don't. It happens to everyone. I will say in my defense, if someone says that person is goofy, ah, then calling them goofy ASS has roughly the same meaning as goofy as hell. So it's not like my interpretation was wildly off. I was pretty close. Today I effed up by taking an extra dose of NyQuil and a THC gummy. About an hour ago, I took two shots of that red NyQuil since I'm not feeling good. A few minutes later, I take a 25 milligram gummy because I want to feel a buzz,

but my throat hurts, so no smoking. I start feeling funkier than normal and decided to Google the possible side effects, thinking, hey, maybe it'll say the usual point. poison control or that nothing is serious. That's just what happens when you smoke. Well, Google basically said, strap in, partner. Immediately, the Google switches to AI mode saying, just breathe first. Your main goal is to get to a safe, comfortable space. Delegate or stop all processes and decision making and do not drive. It tells me to get chips or something to snack on and a blanket and stay hydrated. Try to sleep it off. I have to go now. My hands are melting. So I accidentally took two doses of red nightquil and a gummy, and now my hands are shrimps.

Then I'll be posted and edit. I don't recall posting this at all, but reading it sounds familiar. If this is a violation of any rules, I'm sorry. I feel groggy still and hung over. 10 out of 10, I do not recommend. My favorite part of this, AI basically worried about OP is like, yo, buddy, all right, I'll walk you through this. Breathe, let's calm down. Grab your favorite Blanky and your teddy bear. This is going to be a rough ride. Today I effed up by tipping my pizza delivery woman a hundred bucks.

More than a week ago, they were going to sell boxes of Pokemon cards at a local store. One of my friends wanted to buy some for her son, but she was working that day. Since I was off, I volunteered to get to the store early and wait in line. I bought two boxes for a little over 90 bucks. When I saw my friend later that day, she gave me a nice, crisp, $100 bill for them. It had been a while since I had a $100 bill, so I decided to hold on to it for a while. Fast forward to three days ago. Me and my girlfriend and two of her friends were at my house.

We were drinking and watching movies. I was going pretty hard since I was off the next day. We decided to order pizzas. My girlfriend volunteered to pay, and I offered to pay the tip. When the doorbell rang, I got up. At this point, I was pretty hammered. I answered the door, and a young woman handed me the pizzas. The bill was about 55 bucks.

I handed her the money that my girlfriend gave me. I opened my wallet, and I was going to pull out a $20 bill for the tip. Since I was drunk, I forgot that I had the $100 bill in my wallet. I pulled a bill out without looking and handed it to her. She got so excited and asked if I was serious. I said, yeah, of course. She said, thank you so much, and she left. After eating the pizza and drinking a bit more, we started talking about the Pokemon craze.

Then I remember that I had a $100 bill in my wallet. I grabbed my wallet, looked inside, and saw that it wasn't there. Even though I was really drunk, I realized that I tipped that woman $100. When I told my girlfriend and her friends, they just started laughing, and they kept laughing. I felt a little embarrassed. But the woman was glad to receive the tip, so that made me feel better. The top reply from Crow, drunks usually are great tippers, signed a Domino's Delivery Driver. Today I effed up when I called the nurse line about hemorrhoids.

So two days ago, I was having a truly miserable time dealing with severe hemorrhoids. I was on the phone with the medical helpline seeking advice when the pain response got the better of me, and I passed out cold. When I woke up on the floor, disoriented, sweating with my ears ringing, I realized two things. One, my eyebrow was split open and bleeding. Two, I was sitting in a pool of clear, slightly viscous liquid. I thought I peed myself, but I'm pretty sure one of the external hemorrhoids actually burst from the fall. Thankfully, the nurse was still on the phone line listening to me regain consciousness and called an ambulance. My husband rushed home in a frenzy, and the EMTs took me to the urgent care clinic.

This is where the fever dream really began. The doctor started stitching up my eyebrow. Halfway through, the suture needle snapped off the thread and vanished inside my eyebrow wound. The medical staff went dead silent. The doctors were baffled. What followed was a chaotic 24-hour medical wild goose chase. Urgent care sent me for a CT scan, waited two hours. Scan confirmed a metallic object hiding in my facial tissue.

Urgent care threw their hands up and transferred me to the main hospital emergency room. They reopened the wound, poked around, did an ultrasound, and brought in multiple doctors to dig around inside my face. Still couldn't find it. Meanwhile, I was in agony because I couldn't sit down properly, was starving, and hadn't been given proper pain relief yet. Finally, they threw their hands up, gave me pain meds and hemorrhoid cream, and told me to go to the specialized eye hospital the next morning. The next day, after a photo session and waiting through the lunch break in pain, I was transferred

to the plastic surgery ward. When I always pictured myself seeing a plastic surgeon, I assumed I would at least leave the operating room with bigger boobs. Instead, I just left needleless and with a freshly restitched eyebrow. The plastic surgeon, team was actually incredible and managed to excavate the rogue needle, but the whole operating room process was an entire ordeal of its own. I'm finally back home, medicated, lying on my side, and deeply contemplating how a simple hemorrhoid issue turned into a multi-hospital saga. Zero out of ten experience, but at least the plastic surgeons were great. Also in an edit, O.P. said, the needle was not malpractice. The suture needle snapped due to a rare manufacturing defect.

The doctors at the hospital were so baffled by the broken needle that they actually checked and discarded the entire box of needles from that manufacturer to ensure that it wouldn't happen to anyone else. Also, O.P. clarifies that surgical needles are non-magnetic stainless steel, so a magnet won't pull them out. An MRI would risk heating the metal and tearing facial tissue. Today I effed up by telling my middle school pupils that their parents shouldn't forbid the love talk, because if they're here, it means their parents had effed, obviously. I'm a teacher in middle school, and today I had year nine pupils. I don't know how to say it otherwise.

I'm French, we don't have the same school system, but my students are like 14 to 15 years old. It was the last hour of the day. I was very, very tired. It was a long day. The class that I had for the last hour is infamous because of their behavior. Normally I'm pretty good at taking care of them, but today, well, they discovered the sex education books of the school library and were very excited. So we talked about it and everything was great. I advised them about things. I answer their questions. In short, I'm doing a great job, in my opinion.

But in the last 10 minutes, I was telling them that if they had more questions, they shouldn't hesitate to ask adults like teachers, nurses, or their parents. I wanted them to feel safe, and to not take examples from adult content. That's when some of my students laughed very hard and said, My parents would kill me if I asked those questions. I was a bit shocked, and again, I was very tired, so I answered without thinking. How could they react like that? If you're all here, it means obviously they screwed, so they shouldn't shame you for asking about sex. Oh my God, I was horrified when I realized what I just said. There was a second of complete silence, and then all my students were laughing their butts off.

I pray that none of them tell their parents what I said. Today I effed up by realizing that my eyesight is not 2020. This summer, I switched to contact after wearing glasses for nearly all my life. I went on a weekend trip for July 4th and forgot my contact solution in case, and I didn't bring my glasses because I was really really all my life. relying on the contacts. I decided I would just leave them in over the weekend, so I wouldn't be blind for the drive home. At some point, I guess my brain just accepted that I have good vision, and I stopped thinking about the fact that I had contacts in, so I didn't think to take them out

when I got home. Anyway, tonight, I was switching my toothbrush head, and I saw my contact case in solution when I opened the bathroom drawer. Suddenly, I remembered that I am not visually gifted, and instead have just been a moron since July. I googled the negative effects of wearing contacts for two months straight, and the words permanent and damage seem to come up a lot. I'm going to take them out and wear glasses for a couple of weeks to give my eyes a break and reset my brain. Here's a little known fact about the human body and contact lenses.

I find this super gross and disturbing. I'm very relieved that I don't wear contact lenses, but apparently contact lenses can slip behind your eye. eyeball and then just live there for the rest of your life and you'll never know. So if you've ever lost a contact lens, it may not be as lost as you think it is. That was our slash today I f-dub. And if you like this content, be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day.