greenmangostudio

This disaster involes more emotional turmoil and less missing facial hair than you're probably expecting. Sorry. The love of my life tried hair removal cream on her legs for the first time. It worked really well. She was showing off her smooth legs afterwards, and she was naked so naturally I got a little excited. I love going down her, it literally makes my mouth water, so I got into position and inhaled deeply the way I always do. Bad idea. Apparently the fumes from the cream clung to her skin, and some of it got splashed a little higher up than it should've been when she was trying to rinse it off. So I'm expecting my favorite thing in the world and instead I get a lungful of acrid chemicals. My tongue tastes awful. It's burning my throat. I recoil in horror and croak, without thinking, "Oh it smells!" Yeah, I fucked up. I realize what I've said immediately and add "The cream! The cream, not you!" But it's too late. She's already cry...

This happened on a family vacation, and I can confidently say that I am no longer the family member anyone trusts around alcohol, hot sauce, or basic hygiene. For context, there were 23 people on this vacation. Twenty-three. An entire audience. And unfortunately for me, I gave them a story they'll probably be telling at my funeral. It started when I got my cousin absolutely hammered in front of the entire family. I'm not going to pretend I was innocent here. I thought it was hilarious at the time, and he was definitely not thrilled about being the entertainment for the evening. Naturally, he decided revenge was in order. And because we're apparently a family of people who make terrible decisions, his revenge involved finding the hottest hot sauce he could get his hands on. He convinced me to try some. Now, I'm not completely stupid. I didn't take a giant spoonful like some kind of competitive idiot. I put a tiny dab on my finger. A tiny dab. Then I touched it to...

​So, this happened a few days ago while we were testing a brand-new track we’ve been working on called “End Me”. Fitting name, as it turns out. ​I am an independent musician, and we spent weeks dialling in the mix. Naturally, you want to test how the low-end translates across different setups before a release. Big mistake. Huge mistake...🥲 We fired up the track on a set of studio monitors first. Sounded huge, chests rattling, total banger. Then we wanted to test it on a larger PA/club-style setup.. Within literally ten seconds of dropping the beat, we noticed a weird burning smell. Before we could even dive for the master volume, pop. Speaker one was dead. Voice coil completely fried, membrane shredded🥲🫡 We were baffled. "Must have been an old system," we told ourselves👌 ​So we moved to setup number two—a completely different, high-end system belonging to a buddy. We wanted to double-check if it was just a fluke. Guess what? Pop. Speaker two bites the dust. At t...

Our class group chat is 24 parents and it never stops. Lost water bottles, “does anyone know if there’s school Monday,” a 40-message thread about lice. I muted it in September and felt amazing. Last Saturday I had 91 unread. Somewhere in there, in a reply to a reply to a photo of a cake, the birthday mom said the party was moving from the park to their house because of rain. We showed up at the park, got out in the rain trying to find where everyone was, waiting in the covered pavilion for 15 minutes assuming we were just early. Finally my daughter, holding the gift, asking where everyone was. I finally scrolled back far enough in the WhatApp messages and realized on Friday at 9:47pm, right between “has anyone seen a blue Hydro Flask” and some other inane message that the party had been moved to their house because of "the rain forecast." We made it to the house an hour late, soaked. The birthday mom was lovely about it. My daughter has told her grandma, her teacher, ...

So a friend of mine invited me over to spend the night at his place, and like any two respectable gentlemen sharing a roof, we decided to engage in the ancient ritual of figuring out what the fuck to eat. We were a bit lazy so we settled on pasta, simple, tasty, and quick to make...unfortunately he was all out, so I told him to remind me later to get them once I go out for a smoke. So there I was, washing the dishes left over from lunch like the great houseguest I am, when I heard the front door open and close. Naturally, I assumed my friend had gone out to buy the pasta we needed. After finishing the dishes, and seeing all that running water must've made me want to go for a number 1. I made my way to the bathroom, opened the door, and lo and behold. My dear friend, phone in one hand, mid stroke with the other. I don't know what a normal person should do in this case as this was not included in the friendship training manual. However, I like to believe that I handled ...

For context: My good friend (22m) and I met around three years ago, and around 1.5 years ago, he met his girlfriend (23f) through me. Kind of a mutual friend thing. I met my girlfriend (22f) around the same time, so we've done a lot of couple activities together and are generally really close as a quartet. Around two weeks ago, we went out to eat at this pretty nice restaurant in our city to celebrate my friend's recent promotion at his new job. It was a really nice time, and afterward we headed to their apartment for wine and dessert. Everything was super nice, just chilling, listening to music, drinking wine, etc... At one point, my friend headed to the kitchen to start cleaning up the plates and glasses and stuff, as my girlfriend and I had planned on leaving soon. While he was cleaning, his phone started blowing up. He was just getting notification after notification, ding after ding. He could hear it from the kitchen, and quickly asked me who it was that was texting hi...

Ich habe mich noch nie in meinem Leben mehr für einen einzigen Satz geschämt Also, ich fahre durch die Stadt und suche einen Parkplatz. Das Auto vor mir entdeckt gleichzeitig mit mir eine Lücke auf der rechten Seite, und wir lenken beide gleichzeitig ein. Nur, dass er gebremst hat. Und ich... sagen wir mal, ich habe mich hauptsächlich gebremst. Sanfter Stoß. Kaum eine Berührung. Aber definitiv eine Berührung. Der Typ steigt aus, geht herum, inspiziert beide Autos sehr sorgfältig, dreht sich dann um und geht direkt auf mein Fenster zu. Mein Gehirn schreit. Ich kurbel das Fenster runter, und bevor er den Mund aufmachen kann, höre ich mich selbst sagen, mit voller Überzeugung: "Ich war's nicht!" Er schaut mich an. Er schaut auf die beiden Autos, die sich immer noch berühren. Er schaut wieder auf mich. Dann, völlig emotionslos: "Ach. Wer war's denn dann?" Und ich hatte nichts. Keine Fortsetzung, keine Erklärung, keine Würde. Also tat ich das Ei...