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What's your biggest FUBAR moment? To define a FUBAR moment in non filterable terms, it's a situation you find yourself in that's far more messed up than you could have every predicted it to be. It can be of your making or not of your making at all.
I had been seeing this girl who was a couple years younger than me (I was 22) for a couple months, but something seemed off. I decided to turn things down a notch because I had the sneaking suspicion she might be seeing someone else. Well a couple weeks later, she calls me and asks me if I could see her for coffee. Long story short, she was married...and THREE AND A HALF MONTHS PREGNANT. I was so shell shocked by the news, it didn't make me angry. I just sort of was glad I broke things off with her when I did. But good Lord was that my Jerry Springer moment. Haven't really dated since then.
Post by ziggyandthemonkeys on Mar 6, 2007 3:12:25 GMT -5
Haha, i think if that happened to me i'd just laugh my ass off. If you didnt, i could definatly see the not so funniness in that. FUBAR - F*cked up beyond all recognition. Thank you Saving Private Ryan.
Sorry I know it's a long story, but it all seems necessary to tell it.
The day before my 16 birthday. I raced motocross since I was 9, and it was another Sunday at the track, but this was a new track I'd never been to. On top of that, my best friend from high school was with me and I never brought friends with me to the races, the two groups didn't always appreciate each other. Also at the track was my good friend and then boy-crush, Terry.
Well, the track was wierd, and I went too fast in to a section and it threw me off my bike. I remember it now somewhat foggily. It even threw me in to some people waiting for their next race. Didn't hurt anyone, i just tumbled that direction. Well, the crash seriously dazed me, and I got up and back on my bike not knowing where I was, where we were parked, hell my name was even a mystery to me, my instincts alone got me back on the bike. I had to putt around the pits for a few minutes to get my bearings and find where we were parked, I was seriously confused. I'd had a concussion before but you have no idea in that moment WTF is going on.
So I find our trailer, dad takes my bike, I sit down on the end of the trailer and the only thing on my mind in that moment is trying to remember where the hell I am, which is hard, cuz I'd never been to this track before.
Then this girl, who I didn't recognize, hands me a washcloth, and I look with her, half with hatred, and who the hell is this person? "WTF. who is this bitch? Did Terry get a girlfriend? Aw dammit. Where the hell am I again? I can't believe Terry brought a girlfriend. That S.O.B. Why didn't he tell me? And dammit where is this track?" Your mind tends to race when it can't remember a damn thing, which is a wierd feeling.
And then I started to come to. And realized the girl I just glared at like I never knew was my own best friend, and she didn't even know Terry. Terry was smirking at my lapse of memory, and dad was doing his best to keep my epiphanies quiet (Dad! I know how the track goes! I know where we are! It's June 22!) so that my mom wouldn't hear me and freak out. I took a nap (bad thing, I know, but it was about the only thing that seemed to help me after those), and actually had to race again later that afternoon. She didn't know for years that I had more than one concussion in my racing career. I still hardly remember that track and we never went back. Happy sweet sixteen, indeed.
Yeah, I was definitely FUBAR'ed that day, more than any other. Mainly because I can recall my train of thought and wasn't completely out cold. It's these concussion experiences that have prevented me from using any drugs or drinking heavily. I know what it's like to have no clue wtf is going on, and not recall what happened 10 minutes ago, and I didn't like that at all. Plus I don't know how those concussions could change how I react to stuff. I'm sensitive to over-the-counter stuff as it is. I'm not proud of my concussions, and I don't think I could ever react to my own kids the way my dad reacted to my injuries, alls well that ends well I guess.
And for those that have never had a concussion, but have had surgery, a concussion is very similar to that daze after you wake up from anesthesia, although your brain my struggle a bit more to clear up from a concussion, but you still would rather just stay asleep.
We treat mishaps like sinking ships and I know that I don't want to be out to drift Well I can see it in your eyes like I taste your lips and They both tell me that we're better than this
Post by oatmealschnappz on Mar 6, 2007 23:57:28 GMT -5
Once, back in '97, I was beginning to end a very trippy night by thoroughly relaxing in the smooth, introspective peacfulness of the tail-end of my friend "Felix". After the most glorious shower that anyone has ever had, I decided to sit on the front walkway of my apartment and sketch....well, whatever came to mind. I really can't draw but, the weather was so wonderful that I was really just waiting for the sunrise (about an hour or so). About 15 minutes into my morning doodles, I thought I heard someone (off in the distance) scream my name. At first I was sure that I was just imagining this since a few hours before a good friend of mine (also a friend of Felix) had commented on how much screaming he'd heard that night. We lived about a block apart on the UT (TN) campus(12th and Highland), so it really wasn't that unusual but, it had seemed more prevelant that night. I just thought that I had gotten so into my (seriously grade-school) attempts at art that my subconcious had started replaying things from earlier in the night, when I heard it again. I got-up (a little freaked-out) and started looking around. A few seconds later, I heard the sound of angry screams and glass breaking from down the street. Then as I saw a crowd of people running up the street, chasing someone, I clearly heard my name (JOSH!!!) being screamed repeatedly....and horrificly. In my altered state of mind and not being used to sh*t like this, I ran into my apartment, locked my door...and grabbed a big-assed kitchen knife. I cowered, scared and confused, behind my door (remember, Felix was a GOOD friend that night) while hearing people scream sh*t like "you're dead, motherf*cker!" outside. After a few minutes, I peaked through the blinds to see a girl with a mo-hawk throwing a bottle at my window before she ran off. I carefully opened my front door and saw this guy (not a friend, just a guy I knew) laying, all bloody and unconcious, directly in front of my apartment. Paranoid, scared and not having a clue what to do, I grabbed his fat, bloody ass and pulled him inside. After giving him water and screaming at him, he (sort of ) came to and explained that some girl at "The Carousel" (local gay bar) had accused him of stealing her little brother's skateboard, quickly assembled a violent posse and chased him for three blocks. Reason aside, If you knew Mylon, you knew that this was complete and utter bullsh*t! He, without a doubt, had sold someone a faulty "tapedeck" or something...and they had decided to kill him. The simple fact that he had decided to run to my house for protection just showed how serious he felt they were about it...as did the half-dollar sized chunk of meat that was hanging out of his chin. Obviously I was FREAKING-OUT at this point and justb wanted to get him out of my apartment. I mean, I really couldn't handle some guy bleeding-out on my floor, or paramedics and police showing-up and asking questions....especially not then. After a great deal of effort, I convinced him to give me his grandmother's name and phone number, so that she could come and get him and take him to the hospital (i didn't have acar, and.....). Then, while as f*cked-up as a person could be (confussion and such, you know), I had to call a 70 yr old woman (6 am)and explain to her that her grandson had been severely beaten and needed a ride to the hospital. I probably spent 20 minutes trying to give her directions to my apartment, wich probably helped her understand why it was that I wasn't willing to call an ambulance. While we were waiting (FOREVER), he commenced to explain (in pain-staking detail) all of the finer points of the tv show "Three's Company". He not only lovingly described his puppy-dog affections for Joyce DeWitt (Janet), he also went into weirdly well-thought-out reasons why Don Knotts didn't belong/fit-in on a show of that nature. He spent a half-hour or more analyzing and explaining why it was the best tv show ever made before I, thankfully, finally heard a "honk" from downstairs. I carried him down, put him in the car, never said a word, went back-up stairs, lit a smoke and just stared at the f*cking wall for like an hour....Speechless and unsure if it had really even happened. That was one of the most f*cked-up nights/experiences that i've ever had!
Last Edit: Mar 7, 2007 0:28:24 GMT -5 by oatmealschnappz - Back to Top
# In the 1944 U.S. Army animated short The Three Brothers (directed by Friz Freleng), a character named Fubar is a brother of Private Snafu and Tarfu.
# The term was used in the movie Tango and Cash (1989).
# In Saving Private Ryan (1998) the term is used by the soldiers in Captain Miller's squad. Corporal Upham, their interpreter, is unfamiliar with it and the others jokingly tell him it's German. He is later shown looking in his German dictionary and remarking: "Hey, I looked up FUBAR in the German dictionary and there's no FUBAR in there."
but they used it in saving private ryan because the miltary was using it before ww2. but i learned it from tango and cash also.
