Time To Confess The Worst Things You’ve Ever Done

Yesterday, while I was reading a particularly combative thread in the Bloggernacle from a few years ago, which ended with everyone more or less apologizing to one another, it dawned on me that one element of religion the Bloggernacle has never really incorporated is a mechanism for public confession. I believe that the existence of such a mechanism is needed to make this a Zion Bloggernacle, where we are all truly of one heart and one mind and one keyboard. Catholics have their booths, and Mormons have their Bishop’s offices, but an internet Mormon has not a place to confess his or her sins. Therefore, because it is Friday, and because we at By Common Consent are all about exercising power and authority that is not ours to exercise, we say unto you: Come unto us. Confess your errors of yesteryear, yestermonth, or yesterday. Repent of that thing you did that one time, and laughed, even though you totally knew it was mean. Be made whole in the Bloggernacle. We shall absolve you of your misdeeds, and send you away guilt-free. Or make fun of you.

Because I believe in setting a righteous example, I lead off with 3 of the Worst Things I’ve Ever Done.

1. When I was 15 years old, I spread six melted squares of chocolate Ex-Lax on a single cookie and then convinced a neighbor of mine–who looked up to me for reasons I’ll never understand–to eat it. I didn’t really know what “doses” were at that point in my life, and actually didn’t really expect much to happen to him–I figured Ex-Lax cookies were one of those jokes that get passed around at Scout camps, but didn’t actually work. So later that evening, when I was informed that this young man’s father would like to talk to me, I actually didn’t even connect the two events. I was disabused of that notion when, as I walked up the sidewalk to my neighbor’s house, his father was sitting on the porch and said, in a voice I shall never, ever forget, “Scottie, you better sit down fast, ’cause you’re gonna get your butt chewed.” Apparently my friend had not stopped pooping since noon, and had actually been admitted to the hospital for dehydration.

Chris, if you’re out there, I feel really, really bad about what I did.

2. Baptisms as a missionary in Finland are few and far between. Actually, come to think of it, even discussions as a missionary in Finland are few and far between. In mid-2000, I was a newly assigned Zone Leader, and was taking advantage of my assignment for the first time by going on splits with another pair of Elders. As luck would have it, the arrangements of that day required that I would accompany the junior companion, who spoke very little Finnish at that time, to a discussion with an older gentleman–probably 55 years old–who had, out of the blue, a few days earlier, declared that he would like to be baptized. The senior companion gave me some ideas for a lesson, and alerted me to a few potential concerns going forward–tobacco, meeting attendance, etc…and we departed, while he and my junior companion went to a different area.

As we arrived at this man’s house, the smell of old, rotty tobacco was almost overpowering, and the apartment was a veritable mess. In my arrogant youth, and to my everlasting shame, I judged him from the moment we entered, and ceased to take him seriously on any level. We started talking about the reading assignment he had been given in the Book of Mormon, about Joseph Smith, and suddenly this man became very excited and said that he had figured out the origin of the gold plates. Our conversation from that point went as follows:

Man: I know where Joseph Smith got the Gold Plates!
Me: You do?
Man: Yes! He made them out of coins.
Me: Coins?
Man: Yes–he took all of his gold coins, melted them down, and made plates.
Me: Coins?
Man: Yes! Coins!
Me: (blinking…thinking…blinking again) Coins?
Man: YES!
Me: That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.

He blew up. Within about 7 seconds, we had been booted out the door and were standing in the hallway of a large apartment building in shock. My temporary junior companion–who again, spoke and understood very little Finnish–peered at me cautiously and asked, “Elder, what just happened in there?” As we made our way home, the reality of my horrible behavior and un-representation of the Savior destroyed me. I phone the Mission President, who just days earlier had asked me to train an incoming new missionary and serve as Zone Leader, and informed him that I was likely not the best man for the job. He gave me a few pieces of stern counsel, some instructions regarding apologies to the man I had insulted, and told me to keep working hard. Later that evening, when we met up with our right companions, I had to explain what happened once again. I didn’t even bother trying to save face, because there was none to be saved. The pain in the eyes of the other Elder who had trusted me with his newly progressing investigator crushed me–even as he shook it off and said, “No sense in crying over spilled milk–I know you didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Elder Smith, and Old Finnish Guy, if you’re out there, I feel really, really bad about what I did.

3. When I was 11, I had a Blazer scout leader who worked the night shift at a local factory, and because our scout activities were right after school, the bus would often drop us off 15-20 minutes before this man woke up. He lived on a fairly busy street, where cars would drive by at high rates of speed. One Tuesday afternoon in the middle of winter, several of us decided it would be fun to throw snowballs at the cars as they drove by. There was one fellow in our crowd, who apparently had a conscience, for he objected to our activity and refused to join in the fun and took to other activities in the front yard. Despite our buddy’s protests and non-participation, another friend and I simultaneously heaved massive armloads of snow out into the path of an oncoming sedan.

As we watched the entire windshield suddenly become caked with a layer of snow, and as we heard the car’s tires begin to screech, we realized that our course of action was clear: Flee the scene. While we hid beneath the back porch of our scout leader’s house, we realized that our conscience-oriented friend was missing. We could hear the driver of the car–apparently a very, very angry woman–scream STOP RIGHT THERE!! at our poor friend, who had not realized what was going on in time to run, and was in any case entirely innocent of wrong doing. As she ripped him from head to toe for recklessly endangering her life and just generally being a bad human being, we laughed ourselves sick.

Sam, if you’re out there, I feel really, really bad about what I did.

I will now turn the time over to you, the Bloggernacle, for the remainder of the weekend. I hope it is obvious that truly Bishop’s-office-worthy-misdeeds are NOT welcome. Keep it fun, or the Bishop one of the admins will tap you on the shoulder and ask you to return to your seat.

[Author’s note: I will once again, after a few mishaps, remind the congregation that your confessions are not supposed to be, you know, actual sins for which you should truly repent. This is supposed to be fun, okay?]

Time To Confess The Worst Things You've Ever Done


  1. Once, I was eating at Wingers, and ordered an Asphalt Pie to go. (See it here: http://www.wingers.info/desserts.html). I needed to eat it on the road. But they didn’t give me a plastic spoon to go with it. I waited and waited for a server to come back around so I could ask for one, but I was late for an appointment and had to go.

    So I took one of their METAL spoons with me.

    And walked out to my car faster than I’ve ever left any restaurant.

  2. I went swimming on my mission- somewhere in northern New Mexico near Farmington with other Elders in my district. While we were swimming, a freak thunderstorm blew in and scared us half to death.

  3. Stephanie says:

    Are you kidding me?!?! My sins are going to the grave. I am too ashamed to even admit them semi-anonymously.

  4. Last Lemming says:

    Just now I laughed at Elder Smith for thinking that somebody who believes Joseph Smith made the plates out of gold coins would ever be baptized.

  5. John Scherer says:

    As a young altar boy, I ruined a catholic mass. We altar boys had to prepare and present to the priest two green vessels, one of which held sacramental wine and the other held water for the priest to use in washing his hands. When the time came to present these, the priest drank the water at sacrament and washed his hands in wine.
    Obviously the priest knew about this misdeed and later berated me for the mistake, and I cannot for sure say that I remember that this was done by me on purpose. However, I have to confess that I found the priest’s bright-red faced tirade after church to be one of the funniest moments of my young life; one that we altar boys mimicked for years to come.

    Monsignor Donovan, wherever you are I’m very sorry for not taking you seriously.

  6. Natalie K., your sins are forgiven you, because Asphalt Pie rocks.

    SCW, that storm in New Mexico was Adam Greenwood, riding upon the waters in a vest. You’re lucky to have escaped.

    Stephanie, your greatest sin is cowardice.

    Last Lemming, lulz.

    John Scherer, your hands are now clean.

  7. In third grade, I cheated on my history exam. In fourth grade, I stole my uncle Max’s toupee and I glued it on my face when I was Moses in my Hebrew School play. In fifth grade, I knocked my sister Edie down the stairs and I blamed it on the dog. When my mom sent me to the summer camp for fat kids and then they served lunch I got nuts and I pigged out and they kicked me out. But the worst thing I ever done – I mixed a pot of fake puke at home and then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony and then, t-t-then, I made a noise like this: hua-hua-hua-huaaaaaaa – and then I dumped it over the side, all over the people in the audience. And then, this was horrible, all the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other. I never felt so bad in my entire life.

  8. aloysiusmiller says:

    Yes I guess that’s why we keep doing these mean spirited things. — they’re fun.

    bring ion the FUN!

  9. I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.

  10. I pretended I was gst. For five years.

  11. StillConfused says:

    When I went to youth conference, I was insensed (SP) at the dress code at the dance. So I took my extremely long black hair and pulled it up through and then around the outside of a paper towel roll. I tied the bottom (kind of loosely). Whenever the leaders would try to talk to me, my hair would bobble all around but I kept a completely straight face.

    My best friend and I attended a college basketball game at William and Mary. I put a basketball in my belly to look pregnant. I picked on player and whenever he had the ball I would shout “Score one for junior”

    I once got out of a date over the phone by telling the man that I was a prostitute and hooked on cocaine.

    I once got rid of an uninvited gentleman caller by having my younger siblings through baby powder all over him and then having my father chat with him until we left.

    My sister and I used to sit in the front row of sacrament meeting and roll up the sashes on our home made dresses (polygamists be proud) and then toss them, streamer style, at the speaker.

    On occassion, my hand would become possessed in sacrament meeting and attack me. My other hand would try to save me but there usually was some rolling on the floor.

    Ages when the foregoing occurred… ummmm. I plead the fifth as I was above the age of accountability

  12. (I left out a sin)
    4. I once failed to recognize a quote from the Goonies for at least 2 minutes.

    gst, if you’re out there, I feel really, really bad about what I did.

  13. Once, when my family and I were living in Africa, my nephew got caught up in a stampede. I may have caused the stampede; my memory is a little murky in that regard. Anyway, I didn’t do as much as I could to save my nephew from the stampede. In fact, when my brother tried to save my nephew, I thwarted his efforts, such that my brother was also caught up in the stampede. It all ended very poorly for them, especially my nephew–last I heard he was living with two other males in the middle of nowhere doing little else besides singing show toons.

    But at the end of the day, everyone learned some life lessons, which probably makes everything alright. Well, everyone except my brother, because he may have died in the aforementioned stampede. Anyway, live and learn.

  14. Miss Nona says:

    Church history bores me.

  15. I once cried out in fear and pain. But that was when the doctor slapped me immediately after birth. I’ve been pretty much perfect ever since.

  16. StillConfused, you actually might need to seek out the Bishop after all.

    jimbob, your greatest sin is that of copying gst; go thy way, and sin no more.

    Miss Nona, I find no fault in your behavior.

  17. Kuri (9.), this is supposed to be a happy occasion! Let’s not bicker and argue about who killed who.

  18. I was going to type some stuff, because I figured I could shock y’all or at least get a few, “Wow, you were really crazy back in the day” responses. But I’ve reconsidered. My sins were remitted when I was baptized when I was 26. Reflecting on them isn’t amusing; it makes me sad. Unlike many of you, my sins aren’t just the result of practical jokes gone wrong. Lots of people got hurt, not least of all me.

    In the words of Richard Scott, I am not going to collect the dried mud and keep it in an envelope to show people so we can all marvel at my stupidity. I’m 49 years old. I’ve moved on.

  19. While at BYU I had this running joke with my friend about riding the short bus. I don’t even remember exactly how we used it, I think it was like whenever someone did something wrong we would declare that they were “riding the short bus.”

    This is bad enough but at the time I justified it by saying that I wasn’t making fun of disabled kids, it was just a metaphor. A very tasteless metaphor. So one day there appeared a short bus parked outside of my apartment complex. We couldn’t believe how fortuitous is was. We grabbed our cameras and stood by the bus as another friend took the picture. She yelled, “Act retarded!” I think we may have made some retarded faces. We were laughing our heads off.

    Then out of an apartment comes another girl. She walks over to us and says, “I’m deaf and I drive this bus to pick up other deaf kids for a special school. I want you know that deaf kids aren’t retarded.”

    Our shame was profoundly paralyzing. We uttered some apologies, and went back inside and cried at how utterly horrible we had been. The next day we baked the girl some banana bread and apologized again. There weren’t enough apologies in the world though. I’ve grown up a lot since then but thinking of that story still makes me want to die.

  20. I think we cross-posted, Scott. I just don’t type as fast as gst does. That’s what I get for taking secretarial correspondence courses from Ricks.

    And I’m certain that I’m above reproach on any sort of plagiarism, since I recently penned the UT San Antonio plagiarism code.

  21. Ann, no sin in your past could possibly be greater than harshing the mallow like you did just now.

    Katie M., while your sins are grave indeed, there will still be a place for you in the Terrestrial Kingdom. What everyone wants to know is how a deaf person heard your friend yell.

    jimbob, your sin of copying gst is absolved, but now you have the sin of being a braggart and a cad.

  22. I still cringe about this, and it is not even funny. Or fun. But I think I would like to get this off my chest.

    I got asked by a girl to the girls choice dance in high school, but was hoping to get asked by someone else, so I stalled. I never did get asked by anyone else, but I kept stalling and avoiding this girl, who was in reality, very nice, and not deserving of such behavior. In the end, I don’t think either of us went to the dance, and I can’t believe I was so mean.

    Needless to say, I feel really, really, bad about this. I warned you, it wasn’t funny, or even fun. And I didn’t have to make it up, though I wish I had. Now, I am assuming that this will remain strictly confidential, right?

  23. Mmmmmm, think you missed the disclaimer at the end of the post, ML.

  24. Katie M.–nice catch. I turned away from the computer for 2 minutes, and that sort of comment appears. Deleted!

  25. Normally a good kid, I just acted up something fierce for one particular Sunday School teacher. I thought she was a little weird, a little too touchy-feely. She was the type crying at the pulpit every Fast Sunday and trying too hard every SS lesson. Our class (not just me) left her in not-happy tears about once a month.

    One day in particular I was in fine form. I’d confiscated the crutches of one of the girls in the class, disassembled them, and then tossed the parts out the window. Horrified, the teacher pointed to the door and ordered me to retrieve them. “Okay” I said, but instead of the door, I leapt out the window. Unhurt amongst the bushes, I basked in the sounds of pandemonium emanating from the window.

    Sister Hart, you were such a good person! How I could be so mean I’ll never know!

    As for the girl whose crutches I stole, I did the right thing. I married her.

    ‘Course, she coulda done better….

  26. StillConfused says:

    ANother one. Of which I am but one of the sinners.

    About a year before my divorce, I took the whole family to Hawaii as a last ditch effort to save the marriage. My then husband was being a jerk the whole time. We all went on a snorkel cruise where you cruise out, snorkel around and look at turtles and such. My then-spouse swam off alone. My daughter and I were looking at turtles and what not. In the distance, we saw a middle aged balding man in a certain shirt and shorts swimming in our general way. I said to my daughter: Hey there is your dad, go get him. She swam over and dug her fingernails hard into his butt. He jumped up. He stared at her. She stared at him. She is legally blind without her glasses. I am the first one to notice that the person she just attacked was not in fact her dad. So here is a strange man that just got his a$$ grabbed by a 15 year old hottie in a bikini. I did what any responsible mother would do. I swam underwater and hid.

    After a few moments of awkwardness, the man silently swam away. My daughter and I laughed so hard that we almost drowned. To this day I cannot snorkel without laughing. Of course we all had to get back on the same boat to go back.

    So we envision that some middle aged man has to go home to his wife and say… Honestly honey, I was just out snorkeling on the business trip, minding my own business, when this young lady in a brown bikini grabbed my butt. That is where the marks come from. Honestly.

    I hope we didn’t cause a divorce.

  27. At our Moab Stake youth conference three friends and I did not want to go to church. The Bishop’s councilor, a feared man of 400 lbs, told us we would go. We said we would go, but would not wear a tie. He said you will go. You will wear a shirt, tie and nice pants. When he left we realized he didn’t say anything about shoes or socks. A fourth friend had refused to get out of bed. After we left, the councilor came and sat by the bed of our rebellious compatriot and had a kind heart to heart with him. He was talked into going to church and asked where we were. The councilor said we had gone to church, and our fellow said, “They can’t have gone. There are their shoes.” He said the good Brother sprinted out of the room.

    Meanwhile we had walked into the auditorium without shoes, passed the general authorities and church leaders sitting on folding on the basketball court barefoot and took our seats in the bleachers. I still remember the councilor rushing into the room, standing in front of us, pointing to us, and motioning out the door. We followed. We did not have to go to church that day. Nor were we let out of the dorms until we left the next day. Fun times.

  28. Asphodel says:

    In fourth grade, I was in a magnet class composed of “gifted and talented” students from throughout the school district. We were all super nerds and we were keenly aware that we were “gifted” (which in our minds equalled awesome, I guess). It was our teacher’s first time teaching this class and she had big plans (which rarely came to fruition). She decided we would have (weekly or monthly, I can’t remember which) elections for different class leadership positions.

    Partway into the semester, a girl named Claire was elected to be class president. For some reason, I didn’t particularly like Claire (it may have had something to do with an incident at a friend’s birthday party the previous year, when I exclaimed “what the heck?” and she coolly informed me that she was offended by my language…this girl wasn’t even a Mormon!).

    Being both insufferably bratty and inexplicably influential in my class, I formed a coalition of students with the intention of impeaching Claire. That day at recess, she was playing with a few friends on the jungle gym, and my co-conspirators and I spent the whole recess marching around the jungle gym chanting “Impeach Claire! Impeach Claire!” (This was a few years before the President Clinton incident, so I don’t even know how I was aware of the concept of impeachment…) And the worst part was…our crazy teacher was going to let us go through with it, “so we could learn about the political process”! (Luckily, we forgot about our plan within a day or two so we didn’t have to hold any class senate hearings…I think the whole concept of class elections pretty much died after that though.)

    That poor girl…Claire, I’m sorry if I scarred you for life.

  29. I, as many children do, have a few dalliences with stealing as a child. I always got caught and was punished as was appropriate. The first time, when I was probably about 4, was due to my desire to accurately recreate sacrament meeting in my bathroom. I was about 5, and thoroughly fed up with the amount of water that I was able to fit into the toothpaste cap, which is what I used for the water. The cap did not accurately reflect the volume of water ingested in our Sunday meetings, hence, I needed to get some real cups to legitimize my home ordinance. Instead of doing the logical thing, and just saving my cups, I decided to steal some cups from the cupboard at church, where I was able to locate some. I was caught — I mean, how could I not be? — and had to confess to the Bishop and return the unused cups. So there you go. I stole from church to play church.

  30. Oops, I self-edited poorly. I was 4 or 5 at the time, obviously.

  31. The details of my life are quite inconsequential. Very well, where do I begin. My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we’d make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it’s breathtaking, I suggest you try it.

  32. Runner-up:

    mingling with all kinds of society, I frequently fell into many foolish errors, and displayed the weakness of youth, and the foibles of human nature; which, I am sorry to say, led me into divers temptations, offensive in the sight of God. In making this confession, no one need suppose me guilty of any great or malignant sins. A disposition to commit such was never in my nature. But I was guilty of levity, and sometimes associated with jovial company, etc., not consistent with that character which ought to be maintained by one who was called of God as I had been. But this will not seem very strange to any one who recollects my youth, and is acquainted with my native cheery temperament.

  33. I’m 49 years old. I’ve moved on.

    Good for you. Sorry some haven’t enough to be hostile to you.

  34. Does commenting on this post count? ;-)

  35. Oh, no harm no foul, Stephen. I know I am being a wet blanket on a thread that’s supposed to be harmless fun. Apparently for some people their worst is mostly harmless.

  36. Scott B,

    I also insulted a couple of people on my mission, though I had the good sense to insult only those who really had no chance of wanting to be baptized (JWs). Sometimes it was just too easy and I was too immature and foolish to resist.

  37. Not totally harmless, Ann. Kuri (#9) killed a guy with a trident!

  38. Veli B, I’ll forgive you on behalf of the old Finnish guy–I can totally picture it. I know how few and far between baptisms are over there. (When my dad [Luthy] was president, the mission about burst at the seams with joy when we hit a record 18 in one month.)

    There plenty of things I regret doing. I always swore I would fix one of them if I ever had the chance–thinking, of course, that I never would. Thanks to the almighty Facebook, I have that chance now. I’m still trying to get up the guts to apologize.

  39. During my Sr. year of high school I must have thought I was pretty awesome. Once I was with some friends watching a movie and happened to sit between two girls, one that I had been on several dates with and had something of a crush on, and the other was a friend that I thought might be interested in me. During the course of the movie I held hands with girl #1, which was a big deal because the relationship was still new. Then for some reason beyond my comprehension even then, I began holding hands with girl #2. I had no romantic feelings for her, I think I just wanted to see if it could be done. As far as I know, neither girl ever found out about the situation, but I still feel badly about my attitude in this situation.

    Also later that year I had gone out with another girl several times, took her to Prom, and then sorta lost interest and just started avoiding her, but never really broke up. Obviously I was a bit of a relationship idiot, and I hurt peoples feelings.

    Dawn, Jenn, and Tracy, I feel really badly about what I did.

  40. 10.
    Was that before or after the 5 years gst pretended to be you?

  41. gst and Scott B., I’ll confess that it took me a lot longer than 2 minutes to catch the Chunk reference. Ugh.

    Stillconfused: THAT was awesome. What a great story. You really made me laugh.

  42. And there was one other girl whose feelings I hurt pretty badly. I won’t tell the story but, Kristiina, I still feel awful.

  43. “At the age of 12 I received my first scribe.”
    What indulgent parents. I was at least 14. Steve your father did invent the question mark. Never doubt it.

  44. AspieMom says:

    When I was in high school I would slice the scotch tape on my wrapped (and under the tree) Christmas presents. I would carefully remove the tags, wear the clothes to school, re-attach the tags after school, re-wrap the presents and place them back under the tree. I would act surprised when I opened the presents on Christmas.

  45. cantinflas says:

    All these stories only remind me of stories involving other people for some reason. Perhaps this means that I should be confessing to my narcissistic tendencies.

  46. Stephen M & Ann, Lighten up, ya’ll. If you truly think that any of the stories in this thread (maybe with the exception of gst) represent our actual worst, then you’re sadly mistaken. This is not a thread for revealing “sins” but rather an attempt to excise the embarrassing–and humorous, if sad at times (my #2), things we did because we were idiots.

  47. Fletcher says:


    I think Kuri should lay low for a while. Did you happen to see if Kuri also had a grenade?

  48. Fletcher says:

    In 5th grade, I was walking home from school with my neighbor. We had a little contest to see who could hit a bus with some rather large seed pods growing on a nearby vine. He sucked it up and missed by a long shot. I nailed the bus. The bus stopped and started to chase us. I ran away, while my neighbor got caught and sang like a bird. Needless to say, my mother was not happy.

    Bus driver: I am sorry I hit your bus.
    Robert: I am sorry you’re a moron who tattles on people.

  49. NoCoolName_Tom says:

    I allowed a junior companion to purchase an Xbox at one point along with a tiny LCD screen to play on it with. While I never played any of the games, I still think he considers me bizarre for joining him in his rule-breaking by getting a DVD of “Fiddler on the Roof” to watch. (Okay, I’ll be honest, I consider myself a little bizarre for being willing to break the rules and only watching “Fiddler”.)

  50. NoCoolName_Tom says:

    Clint: I am sorry I allowed you to buy an Xbox and forced you to watch a musical.

  51. -9 kuri :

    If it was Janet Reno, then you performed a kindness, not a sin.

    As long as we are confessing:
    I didn’t tell the cops, or anyone else, about Brother Jenkins. He had no business being a Scoutmaster, and I feel more regret about this than just about anything else in my life. I wish there was a way to make restitution to his victims, but there’s not. I can only hope that at that final day, they have a small measure of compassion for me.

  52. One time I watched a movie staring Chris Tucker.

    I have had a few people since tell me that that is not technically a sin. But if that’s so, then why do I still have such a hard time forgiving myself?

  53. Darn it!

    I’m reading the post, and I had just watched the Youtube of the 5yo playing Folsum Prison Blues, and as I’m scrolling down through the comments, I realized Kuri said what I was going to say…

  54. Miss Nona says:

    I permanently “borrowed” my Dad’s copy of Saintspeak. However, I blame OSC for this. He needs to update and reissue this book.

  55. Ah, once again I took the Mormons at face value and it turned out to be a mistake :D

  56. When I was around 15, my sisters and I used permanent markers to color our mostly white cat a multiple of bright colors. We let him outside afterwards to blow off some steam, and we never saw him again. We later found out that a gang of wild dogs had been roaming the neighborhood killing cats.

    Tommy, I’m sorry that we colored you purple, which made you more susceptible to death by wild dogs.

  57. 46.
    things we did because we were idiots
    Please explain “were”

  58. On her last day at school (she moved in and out of our school during the 5th grade year), I told Tracey that she was fat and made her cry. Then we all got on our buses and I never saw her again.
    And I never got to apologize.
    I’m sorry Tracey.

  59. Anon for this says:

    Another rude date story: While at BYU my EQ pres asked me to take out his sister. I had seen her picture, but by the time I arrived at her apartment I had forgotten her name. Fortunately, while she didn’t answer the door, she was in line of sight of the door, so I simply made eye contact and asked if she was ready to go. I never did remember her name during the entire date.

    Fortunately, things took a turn for the better. We met a seemingly great young woman at our activity, and while my date was in the restroom I asked out the new object of my attention, and went out with her the following night.

    I’m not sure if I would apologize now to either of them–and I can’t remember their names even if I wanted to.

  60. Anon for this says:

    Oh, and is it a confession if you’re not penitent? How about if you’re not penitent and you’re anonymous?

  61. I had a huge crush on an RM (summer before my freshman year). I told him I thought it would be the coolest honeymoon to be in the Hill Cumorah Pageant and camp out all week.

    I still cringe and can’t believe I actually said (and believed) that.

  62. Stephanie says:

    I did what any responsible mother would do. I swam underwater and hid.

    Ha ha. Laughed for 10 minutes over that one.

    #46 – Okay, got it. I’ll have to ponder then. The sins I won’t admit to involve prosecutable criminal behaviour.

    #49 – Did you serve in Lousiana? If so, you may have been my BIL’s companion. My BIL also came home with a little device that can access wireless internet. No, he did not get much out of his mission.

  63. #17 Scott,
    Hey, you asked.

    #37 gst,
    Actually, when I shoot people I usually do it with a gun, although sometimes I chew Trident sugarless gum while shooting.

    #47 Fletcher,
    I know I can’t be free.

    #51 Michael,
    Finding a man in Janet Reno, much less shooting him there, seems extremely unlikely.

  64. Also, I deeply regret posting what queuno was going to post before she could post it.

  65. queuno (who more closely resembles Johnny Cash than June Carter Cash) forgives you…

  66. merrybits says:

    Peeing on the floor in my second grade bathroom – a huge pee flood. The teacher wanted to know who did it and asked the whole class. I announced that it was the boy who just happened to use the bathroom after me. She made him clean it up. I’m very sorry Chris, where ever you are.

  67. It’s “harshing the mello” SB- sheesh. What kind of stoner are you anyway?

  68. While at a stake dance I told a girl that I was bald due to treatment for cancer (I was actually bald because I shaved my head for a big swim meet). She told me that her mom was also fighting cancer.

  69. Manaen (57), “were” is the plural past tense of the verb “to be,” indicating that, when the act took place, the actor was an idiot. The actor may still be an idiot, but that is not a certainty.

    Kuri (63), not a Monty Python buff, eh?

    TracyM (67),
    The worst thing you ever did was lecture me on stonerisms without bothering to find out if “mallow” is also an acceptable variation of the phrase. As an act of penitence, you shall now repeat the YW Values 9 times.

  70. I made out with an inactive Mormon guy behind my Presbyterian church when I was 16. I was supposed to be in the building watching a group of 1st graders while their parents were attending our fundraiser youth auction, but they were in a dark Sunday school classroom enthralled by Veggie Tales and I slipped out with the guy without them noticing. A shadow of things to come I suppose.

    Oh, who am I kidding. I’m not the least bit sorry about that.

  71. You guys have such cool and funny misdeeds. Mine are pretty much all shameful. I lack the wit and foresight to screw up in a way that makes for a good story.

    That said, when I was elementary school-aged I used to steal packs of Garbage Pail Kids cards from the corner Maverick store. And Charleston Chews. That’s the biggest sin right there. Why steal Charleston Chews when there’s Snickers or Reese’s right there? Maybe I felt like it would be worse to steal a candy that didn’t suck.

    In Sunday School as a teen I joined the crowd in teasing a girl in class for several years running. One time when we were playing hangman we spelled UGLY in the used letters section. Amazingly enough, this girl never went crazy on drugs, got pregnant, or dropped out. She turned out seemingly well-adjusted and happy. So, lesson not learned.

    In junior high I let my friend copy off my homework.

    My mom used to take me to a couple BYU football games per year. She would get really overly enthusiastic and constantly shout, “Where’s the ball?! Where’s the ball?! Where’s the ball?!” I was embarrassed by her and didn’t hide that fact. Eventually she started suppressing her enthusiasm. I feel really bad now that I made her feel like she had to do that.

  72. I made out with an inactive Mormon guy behind my Presbyterian church when I was 16.

    Jack, in honor of John Hughes, I’m tempted to post the makeout query for details from The Breakfast Club … but that’s probably inappropriate for this blog.

  73. #38 Annette Lyon. your dad was my Bishop in the MTC. What a very cool guy he was.

    I confess that as a Zone Leader in Toronto I organized what may be considered an “Extreme P-Day” by most standards (I think). It started with Tackle Football and ended with a Boxing Match between two Elders (who for some reason had gloves with them in the mission). During this Exhibition one was hit directly under the chin sending his opponent into a sitting position in mid air and landing on his behind in a sitting position. He was not knocked out but needless to say he he was seeing stars.

    The next week we played slaughter ball at the stake center with another zone. This was with any flat ball we could find. I do not think slaughter ball was against the rules but if the Brethren would have known about it I am sure it would have been.

    I apologize to any of those who were injured during these events and who lost respect for me during these episodes.

  74. Oh, Scottie, if ONLY that were the worst thing I’d ever done… if only.

  75. OK, here’s one:

    In 4th grade, I went to a sleepover party. All of the girls decided they were going to make up fake magazines, drawing the pictures, ads and articles. The magazine decided upon was Pl*yboy (why? who the heck knows how girl-brain works) – and I, along with everyone else, was handed a sheaf of paper and told to make our magazine. We were not to show it to anyone while making it, and would only share after they were done, and we would have to guess who made which person. (another reason to never let my kids go to sleepovers)

    I went to a corner of the living room, shrugged, and thought what the heck, ok, I can draw people… I made my magazine, ads, cover and articles. It took a while, but all the giggling girls eventually tossed their “magazines” into a pile on the coffee table, and the Queen Bee girl picked up the first one- it was filled with doodles and hearts and drawing of bunny rabbits. Everyone giggled, then she reached for the next one.

    The QB picked up my magazine, gasped and shrieked in high-pitched girlie horror and threw it down. Well, they said “Pl*yboy”, so I made them a one! While everyone else had drawn cutesie cartoon animals and kitty cats with rabbit ears and breasts, I had, well, actually drawn nekkid women. Anatomically correct. Nekkid. Women. A whole magazine of them…

    No one was much my friend after that, and I wasn’t invited to anymore sleepovers at her house.

    (For anyone who doesn’t know me, I am a professional artist, and by 4th grade had already shown)

  76. I invited Tracy M to a sleepover at my house.

  77. In grade school I was riding my bike home and carrying my new 8 inch die-cast metal F-15 fighter jet in a duffle bag. As approached a younger girl on the sidewalk, I thought I would play a game and dangle my bag down at the level of her face and pull it up at the last minute. Well, I was too slow and the nose of the metal toy forced a hole right into her frontal sinus. I turned around to apologize to the crying girl but when I saw blood streaming down between her eyes I became so scared I raced home and hid that darn jet in my closet.

    To the girl with the hole in the forehead and likely a life-long scar, I am so, so sorry. I was a foolish boy to play my “game” and a coward to run away.

  78. To the Army of Darkness, ie- evil undead in Medieval times, sorry for tearing you to shreds with a windmill attached to a car engine, a chainsaw, a “boomstick”, and other sundry weapons, but I needed that book to get home…

  79. #69 Scott,
    I deeply regret missing the reference.

  80. Christie says:

    Who are you to forgive people’s sins?
    God is the only one who can do that, and through Jesus. What’s the point in telling you the worst things, if noone turns from them and continues to sin?

    I do realise that it’s interesting to read other people’s ‘confessions’ and such, but you have no authority to forgive other people’s sins, because you are not blameless yourself.

  81. (sigh)

    Brothers and Sisters, it would appear–as Christie (80) has pointed out, that I am guilty of another grave sin: that of failing to make clear–despite multiple statements, and 70+ comments to support the idea–that my original post and the entire thread are a joke. I bow my head in shame and vow to do better next time I attempt to be funny.

  82. TracyM & MCQ (75 & 76)–You two may need seek out a member of your local Primary Presidency to help you overcome these stains.

    Brian H (77)–As you made that girl holey, now through confession are you made holy.

    Ash (78), we are honored by your presence, but ought you not seek forgiveness from the Priest for your pride when, despite his urging, you refused to write down the secret incantation so you wouldn’t accidentally unleash an army of Deadites on the village?

  83. Several from BYU:

    – Had to go to standards because I didn’t wear socks to take a test (oh, the horror)

    – Went to a dinner/dance in Helaman Halls (where there was prime rib) that was “Guy or Girl Preference” and “coat and tie” required. Some of us didn’t want to go, but wanted good food. We wore long shorts (past our knees), t-shirts, ties and coats. Another guy and I tried to get in, but the girl working at the door asked us where our dates were. I pointed at the sign that said “Guy or Girl Preference” and told her that I preferred Guys, and he was my date (back in the 1980’s). She didn’t know what to do, so we walked in. Luckily, we were done eating before they found us 15 minutes later and kicked us out.

    – Flour bombs

    – Did you know that if you flushed the toilets on the top 2-3 floors of DT simultaneously, the outflow can’t keep up and the bottom floor toilets flood?

    – David Letterman was big at the time, particularly dropping things off buildings. We snuck up on top of the Joseph Smith Building (as it was the tallest we could find) just before closing once, jamming a few key doors open so we could get back down. Various things we dropped include 2-liter bottles of soda, a watermelon, a bowling ball from DI, etc.

    – Asking the manager of the sundries store at Helaman Halls why they sold Vivarin and No-Doze, but not caffeinated soda. He told me, “When used properly, these are medications.” Hmmmmm.

    – Snorting said Vivarin (oh, the follies of youth) and again going to standards because it didn’t “give a good impression”, even though technically not against standards.

    Needless to say, as I complained about the rules, people said that no one was forcing me to go there. So, I gave up a 4-year tuition & room and board Presidential scholarship (Kimball) after my first year to go somewhere else after my mission.

  84. Mack Samaha says:

    I smoked pot for years … gave up before mission … stayed off the green for a further 12 years and have recently had a few cones with a confusing absence of guilt

  85. I am so sorry that I brought a date to a wedding when I was invited as a single. I knew it was wrong, but I just did it. Then to further things, we both got a massive case of the giggles right in the middle of the ceremony when a lady was singing songs from South Pacific in an operatic voice. It’s hard to stifle giggles in a large catholic church.

    The reception was all screwed up because there was an extra guest. I really don’t know what I was thinking. The couple has never spoken to me since. Sorry Andy and wife!

  86. Once, my mom gave one of my friends a Christmas gift that included cologne and deodorant, because she thought the friend smelled bad.

    Dude, I’m really sorry about that.

    I also still feel really bad that I let my LDS grandparents take me out to breakfast on the day of my baptism (on a Sunday) Oh, and they both drank iced tea at said breakfast. It’s not really a sin, right?

  87. Stephanie says:

    Okay, some of these are really starting to scare me about having so many sons. It’s a miracle my own brothers (and those around them) survived to manhood. I pray the same for my boys.

  88. I will confess to this, although I have never repented of it, nor has anyone else involved.

    Sunday, April 1, 1962. The Mission Home, Paris. President and a few missionaries had gone to a conference. The rest of the Mission Home staff were at home and unwilling to let April Fools Day go by uncelebrated. TEN MINUTES before the return of the President and traveling staff, we hooligans huddled in an office and hurriedly brainstormed how we could pull a good trick on the returning Sister B, a missionary who was smart, funny, diligent, much loved, and otherwise the ideal candidate for shennanigans.

    The result was beautifully simple (if just a tad plagiarized from the French movie “Dialbolique.”)

    Upon arrival, Sister B. was told that a package had arrived in the mail for her, but as it was leaking just a little, we had put it in the bathroom off the sisters’ bedroom.

    “Oh, I guess my mother sent me the contact lense solution,” she said, and marched upstairs. (She was a consummate marcher.) Walking into the bathroom, she flipped on the over head fluorescent lights, which took a fews seconds to come on. As they did, Elder J., all 6’6″ and 350 lbs of him, rose up from the bathtub moaning and otherwise doing his best Frankenstein-monster imitation. Sister B’s scream was highly satisfactory to all perpetrators, audible as a full two blocks away.

    But quick-witted and not in the least paralyzed with fright, she turned on the overhead shower full force. The bellow that followed was also satisfactory. Sigh.

    No apologies, Sister B. No one else would have made that April Fools Day so memorable.

  89. probably shouldn't say for this says:

    We owned a car lot for a few years and sometimes we took cars on consignment for people. One guy had a nearly new Camaro we were selling for him and one night we took it out on the highway and raced it against my husband’s ’69 Chevelle.
    But it was Monday night and our boys were with us, so we called it Family Home evening.

  90. During my senior year of high school, I went on three dates with Nick that was nice but I wasn’t interested in him; I needed to buy some time so that my parents would let me go to prom with Bryce. I went to prom with Nick because he asked me first, and we had fun. Anyway, Nick started driving his mom’s PT Cruiser to seminary because I mentioned that I thought it was cool, and then he’d drive me to school. Eventually, I started giving him lame excuses and avoiding him to catch a ride with my girlfriends instead. I still feel kind of bad that I might have used him, but he was a nice guy and neither of us had any other prospects…

    I had extra veggies in my burrito on Monday at Qdoba that I was supposed to pay extra for, but they didn’t charge me extra and I didn’t point out the error.

  91. Oh, and the day I got my driver’s license I wanted to see if my mom’s van could go 100 mph on the rural roads near our house. I succeeded.

    During my senior year, I accidentally tailgated a cop for cutting me off. He pulled me over right in our church parking lot. All my friends knew, but I never told my mom.

  92. The boys sitting next to me in Jr. High science class used to cheat off me on all the tests. I was fed up one day and went through and answered all the questions wrong. As soon as they turned in their tests, I went through and erased all my answers and ended up with 100% while they both got 0. They both nearly failed the class and had to do lots of extra credit. I’m sorry Ryan and Steve. Okay I’m not. You deserved it. I hate cheaters.

  93. Kew (90), your mistreatment of poor Nick is forgivable, but your preferences regarding the PT Cruiser are an abomination before me.

    Jenna (92), you’re a meanie. But kind of a funny meanie.

  94. In 9th grade biology, my friend sat directly in front of me, in the front row of the class. Our desks and our chairs were a single unit with four metal legs. I habitually rested my feet on the back legs of my friend’s desk, which bugged him a bit because the desks would sometimes slide a little on the smooth concrete lab floor.

    One day, in my boredom, discovered that by placing one foot behind one leg and the other in front of the other, and pushing the one and pulling the other, I could quickly and noiselessly rotate my friend’s desk, even as much as 30 degrees.

    Amused with my discovery, I waited until the teacher’s back was turned and then turned my friend’s desk to one side. Surprised, he quickly tried to rotate it back before the teacher turned back around. This was harder for him to do, and to get the leverage, he had to reach over and grab the far corners of his desk.

    Thrilled, I started turning him to one side each time the teacher turned away, and he would try to turn back before getting into trouble. The teacher caught movement in the corner of his eye, but couldn’t figure out what was going on.

    Unable to contain myself, I started flipping him from side-to-side as fast as I could. My friend, flummoxed and helpless grabbed the corners of his desk and tried to stop me, but I had the superior leverage, and when the teacher spun around, it made him look like he was intentionally flopping his desk around, riding it like a bucking bronco. I, on the other hand, simply looked like I was sitting there laughing so hard at his antics tears were streaming down the side of my face. “Detention!” he yelled at my friend, and then to me, “and you, quit encouraging him!”

    Ah, Greg, I should just forgive myself and move on, but I can’t forget, I can’t forget!

  95. Martin, you shall receive 3 gold stars in heaven for your brilliance.

  96. At BYU, I started dating only girls with cars (because I didn’t have one). Yes, it was shallow … but there are a lot of girls with cars … and that’s as good as an initial classifier as any.

    And then I never again had to worry about a ride to the grocery store or the airport or a movie or squaw peak to watch the airplane races…

  97. Okay, some of these are really starting to scare me about having so many sons. It’s a miracle my own brothers (and those around them) survived to manhood. I pray the same for my boys.

    It’s possible to raise teenage boys who aren’t idiots. You obsessively focus on how school is more important than anything else, you insist that they show deference to leaders and teachers, and you tightly control their friends. This isn’t as hard or as nefarious as it sounds. Also, dump the video games and buy them library cards.

    They may turn out to be misanthropes as adults but they will be ideal children.

  98. “It’s possible to raise teenage boys who aren’t idiots”

    No. No. I’m afraid this is false doctrine. Admin?

  99. So the Chevelle won, right?

  100. merrybits says:

    I apologize to my DT sisters on my floor who had to witness the spectacle, upon returning from church, that was my roommate and myself prancing in front of the mirrors (conveniently located in front of the elevators) in lavender see-through – and I mean REALLY see-through – suggestive lingere. What else were we supposed to do while ditching church?

  101. So I think this one time on my mission I *might* have publicly humiliated my companion by accusing him of not washing his hands before sitting down for dinner with a member family. Perhaps not the worst thing I’ve done, but I wanted to take the opportunity to apologize to Elder OP for that one. Sorry!

  102. probably shouldn't say for this says:

    Tracy, I’m sorry to say that although the Chevelle was quicker off the start, the Camaro took it at the end

  103. I told my little sister everyone only had a certain number of words to speak before they died. She quit talking for several days after.

    L, I’m sorry.

  104. Kristine! You didn’t! My brother told me the VERY SAME whopper when I was twelve. Soon after, I got terrible laryngitis and couldn’t speak for a couple of scary days!
    Have continued to make up for those TWO days ever since.

  105. Under guise of making some needed repairs in our apartment, the elders in Toulouse worked in our apartment while we four sisters sat on the steps outside. When they left, we discovered they had fixed our apartment, all right — vaseline on the doorknobs, potatoes positioned to fall to the counter when we took the frying pan off its hook, our pillowcases reeking of Brut cologne, salt in the sugar bowl, everything imaginable. They also had taken off the showerhead and filled it with something — sugar cubes? aspirin? — impregnated with green food coloring, expecting that the next sister to take a shower would be coated with green as the sugar or whatever it was dissolved and released its dye.

    To get even, one blonde sister allowed us to paint green food coloring onto one lock of her hair. She wore a headscarf everywhere we went for the next few days, so that whenever the elders saw her with that one green lock peeking out, they assumed she had a great green blotch on her head. We refused to speak to them, except for my sarcastic jabs, for almost a week, for what they had done to our poor sister.

    When we finally confessed how we had been one-upping them, they were terribly repentant. Apparently I was as sarcastic then as I can be now, and had really made a couple of them feel very, very bad, and what we had intended to be funny had turned into something rather mean.

    Sorry, guys. But you started it.

  106. The lesson, folks? Don’t mess with Ardis.


    I keep having to delete comments because the last lines of my post were apparently not clear enough. Let me state plainly, then, that this post is not the place to

    -share triumphs over virgin BYU coeds
    -discuss the serious mental health of a spouse
    -reveal that you like the PT Cruiser
    -talk about your unworthiness in taking the sacrament or attending the temple

    If you want to talk about those things, please go to Steve Evans’ post. Thank you!

  107. My trainer on my mission had been given a key to the elders’ apartment by an elder who left shortly before I got there. We used to sneak in during the day and do things like leave lipstick prints on their mirrors, drink all their milk, and leave feminine hygiene products in their beds. I still feel bad for being so juvenile.

    They got us back one day by stealing my companion’s keys from her bag, ditching Sunday school, and moving every single thing inside our apartment out onto our balcony.

  108. When on my mission, a lady asked me “so what’s the difference between your prophet and our pope?” Straight-faced I said, “Well, our prophet talks with God and your pope wears a dress.”

    Sorry, Senora, wherever you are.

  109. During a very hot summer in London, my companion and I arrived home to find a pig’s head in our fridge. As my companion was famously allergic to pork, I felt this was a very poor call on the part of the elders, so late that night I and some of the young single adult girls sharing the house with us took the porker and some other items to the zone leaders’ flat (unfortunately and unintentionally via the local red light district where we were threatened for “trying to steal customers”) and properly decorated their car. Apparently by the time they got up the next day it was really ripe.

    Then I found out it was the other elders who’d left us the pig. I’m sorry, Sister O, for leaving you while we did that.

  110. I confess to playing inappropriate preludes when serving as Ward Organist many years ago. Although it was the easiest calling I ever had it was also the most boring. Challenges were issued by family members to insert snippets from movie themes into prelude music. (No one ever commented so maybe confession is not really necessary.)

    Sorry, 41st Ward, but you never listened anyway. On the other hand, the music from Close Encounters of the Third Kind was really fun to play.

  111. @ 56:

    Rest easy, LT. Dogs are color-blind.

  112. When I was in Grade 8 my friend Adam and I signed up for the track team. For whatever reason we signed up for hurdles. We needed a place to practice. So and I would never do this now and don’t encourage anyone to do it but we went twice to the local cemetary at very early morning (skipped seminary) when no one was around. If we saw someone we would stop and look at whoever’s headstone. We went the second time and I tripped jumping over this one with a crosstype thing and fell and then heard this gruff guy’s voice, “hey, what are you doing in here?” well we legged it out of there so fast!

  113. I was that pharisaic guy in the MTC. After one sister bore her testimony, I chastised her for using the phrase “lone and dreary world” in her testimony because I couldn’t find it in the scriptures, which meant that it probably only showed up in the temple and was therefore Not To Be Said Outside The Temple.

    Sorry, Sister Akes.

    I made pretty much my whole district in the São Paulo MTC miserable with my constant faultfinding, even after repeatedly being told that I was being ridiculous.

    Sorry Elders Pace, Sabey, Sessions, etc.

    I secretly stay up too late reading blogs and otherwise messing around on the internet. Oh, wait.

  114. dumbstunts says:

    – Wore boxers on my head at Ricks. Teachers would tell me to remove the “hat” to which I would respond that it was my underwear and then wait for them to tell me to remove my underwear.

    – Again at Ricks, my first goal was to urinate on every building. I stopped only halfway through when I learned they were dedicated buildings.

    – numerous other stupid things like above.

    Frankly I was a dumb teenager without the capacity to do really cool bad things but still had a very loud annoying mouth and the propensity for serious irreverence and superficial rebellion.

    I’m sorry for the many many authority figures I tormented and I hope my kids will be nicer to me.

  115. Back in the good ol’ days of maybe second grade, I habitually made fun of my tablemate for being adopted. Hey, I knew him from Church and knew it was all of a sudden a big deal that he was adopted, and anything that is a big deal in Church has to be bad, right? Adoption isn’t bad, which is obviously why he stabbed me in the arm with his pencil. I still have the blue mark from the lead. I probably said sorry after that point.

    I am assuming this happened in first grade but my memory is foggy (think Dory only long-term loss and without the whale speak). I had a crush on a boy…I think his name was Brandon or Travis, something generic and boring like that. What did I do to prove my undying devotion to him? The only thing a self-respecting, career-oriented, stubborn, attention-seeking gal like me would do–I stole his train whistle he brought for show-and-tell and blew it during class like there was no tomorrow.

    What can I say, I’m afraid of love. I can’t apologize for that.

  116. I’m sure that most of the men (and some of the women) have [edited by admin: please don’t post actual sins, people. Really!]

  117. The most grievous sin is ignoring Scott’s one rule about what not to post here …

    Leah’s “afraid of love” confession reminds meof another of my own: I’m sorry, Phillip, for taking the note you passed to me in the sixth grade up to Mrs. Momerack so that you’d get in trouble. Especially since your note asked my 11-year-old self to go steady.

  118. When I was 6 I threatened to push the Christmas tree out of the back of the station wagon on the way home from the tree lot because it wasn’t the one I picked out

    At BYU my roommates and I would scour the directory for hours and call all the Hey-sooses and ask if Jesus was there. Such bad taste.

    We would also call random boys in DT and say we were from Food Services and there was a problem with their account. Then we would three way call Food Services and connect them and hang up, then call back to see how long their line stay busy trying to figure it out.

    The lamest was probably watching the pay phone across the parking lot from our window for cute boys walking home from devotionals and call them and invite them over for cookies. But I guess that’s not a sin.

  119. Ardis (117), I totally agree! Honestly, is it that difficult?

  120. I can’t remember if I was just under or just over the age of accountability, but just in case…

    While my 17-year-old cousin was giving me a piggy-back ride in shallow end of the pool, I tucked my toes into her bikini bottom and let myself slide off. Unfortunately for her, she shrieked, so everybody turned to look…

    I discovered that if you catch grasshoppers by their back legs, they’ll smear grasshopper spit (“soysauce”) all over their graspy little front legs and they become ideal instruments for chasing girls. I chased my teenage babysitter out of the house and locked the door. Fortunately for both of us, I let her back in before my mom got home…

    The boy babysitter was my favorite, because he would roughhouse. But we got too rough, and I hit my head on the corner of the wall. Seeing blood on the wall and on my hands, I ran shrieking into my bedroom and locked the door. He was still trying to get me to open the door when my mom got home. I never saw him again. I never dared ask what happened to him.

  121. In first grade my next door neighbor and I put a 5 foot black snake on her front porch, rang the doorbell and hid to enjoy her sister’s screams. Very gratifying. Not sorry.

  122. My best friend in the 4th grade had a crush on a boy named Lonnie. We tormented him every way we knew how in an attempt to secure his affections but I think he was truly oblivious that these were amorous in nature and not malicious. He was a good Mormon boy and we were heathens.
    One day he brought his scouting catalog to school, (he always wore his uniform on Scouting days.) We tried to steal his sash; that was a no go. So Nikki grabbed his catalog, to which he fiercely clung…and it ripped.
    He was truly heartbroken and threatened, naturally, to tell on us.
    Before California instituted their draconian “three strikes” law, Mrs Bergstrom, the Dragon lady of Grass Valley Elementary had placed Nikki and I on it.
    We already had two strikes.
    Background info is we a) read A LOT (thank you Winnemucca Public Library) and b) we talked about our dreams and “analyzed” them on our way to school in the morning. I’m sure you can see what’s coming…
    In searching for dream analysis info we’d stumbled on Freud. Nikki did the only thing she could think of and told Lonnie L, “if you tell on us, I’ll tell everyone you want to sleep with your mom.” Then he really cried. Nikki softened and told him, “it’s ok, it’s not just you, all boys do. Just read Frood.” (That’s how we pronounced it.) Now the other boys look horrified and turned to me, “Is this true?”
    I had a reputation for being honest.

    So I am really, really sorry for telling Lonnie L and all the boys of Mrs Plumber’s 4th grade class our garbled understanding of the Oedipus Complex. I hope we didn’t do serious damage.

  123. Other than the failings of the natural man that I’ll be striving to overcome for the rest of my life, the greatest sin in my life was not getting married before I graduated from BYU.

    (In reality, I did have a girlfriend and we got engaged shortly after I graduated, but sadly that has since broken off for various reasons.)

    For any other sins that I can think of, I can since reconciled with the people involved and exchanged mutual forgiveness wherever possible.

  124. Stephanie says:

    I chased my teenage babysitter out of the house and locked the door.

    I had a kid do this to me once. Unfortunately, he locked all of us out (including himself), so I had to walk to the nearest 7-11 to call his mom. It was the first and last time I baby-sat that family.

  125. Latter-day Guy says:

    On my mission, in a small Spanish branch in Boston, we Elders had the car and worked the suburbs, and the sisters rode the metro and worked the more densely populated areas. The sisters were given an unused turkey after the branch Christmas party ended. They gave us a spare key and asked us to drop the bird off at their apartment for them on our way home (not wanting to carry a turkey on the subway), which we agreed to do.

    While we were putting away the turkey, we thought that it would be wasteful to miss this opportunity to pull a prank. We decided to scare them, so we waited in their apartment, hidden, with the lights out, so they would think we’d been and gone. However, the sisters must have been taking their time, so after a while we decided just to leave. We had hardly locked their door when we heard female voices and footsteps ascending the stairs. (This apartment complex was arranged with a single hallway on every floor with apartment doors down both sides. At each end of the hallway there was a swinging door with a small window, opening onto a stairwell. The sisters’ apartment was the closest to the swinging door on our end––the back stairwell.) It was too late to get the key in and hide in their apartment, so we ducked through the swinging door and hid on the landing, crouching so we couldn’t be seen through the little window. When we heard them putting their key, we decided, we would pull open the swinging door and scare the daylights out of them. The voices and footsteps drew nearer, laughing. Perfect, we thought, Lightheartedness gives way to truly spectacular terror.

    However, the sisters must have either seen the door closing or seen something through the window, because they began to pull open the door to the stairwell. Not wanting to miss our opportunity, we leaped and roared (fully dressed in our proselytizing attire!), and were immediately rewarded with the sound of feminine screams. Sadly, our roar ended rather badly. It sounded something like “ROOOOARRROhmygoshI’msosorry!!! We thought you were someone else!”

    There, standing just outside the sisters’ apartment, were two attractive young twentysomethings whom we had never before laid eyes on, practically wetting themselves with fright.

    After a few moments, we shared a laugh and some explanations. They lived on the same floor and had seen someone trying to hide and wondered what was up. We all parted on good terms, but we didn’t press our luck to try a door approach; I’m sure they’d had enough for one night.

    Sorry ladies, whoever you are. We probably took years off your life expectancy.

  126. Dave P., we’ll have to see how Scott B. rules on this, but I believe you’ll be sentenced to a singles ward.

  127. There was this really cute girl named Karen in my kindergarten class. She had long black hair, which completely mesmerized me. I got terribly flustered when she was around, and had no idea how to interact with her.

    So, every day in class, I would push her over.

    This was particularly effective, because Karen — a perfectly nice and friendly girl — was also handicapped, and had to use a walker.

    The principal eventually called my parents in for a conference about it. They grilled me — why did I keep pushing over Karen? I stubbornly refused to admit a thing. (Well, I couldn’t exactly _tell_ them that I had a crush on her, could I? That would be embarrassing.) The principal eventually moved her to a different class.

    This set the stage for my strikingly successful dating career.

    I’m sorry, Karen.

  128. Whlie I was in the MTC there was an completely honorable tradition where, each Sunday night, the Sister Missionaries called to Japan would come to the building where all of us Japan-bound Elders dormed. They’d stand outside under the window of the common area (we were on the top floor) just before lights-out and sing hymns in Japanese up to us.

    We were a district of pranksters; so one sunday about an hour before we expected them we took a 40-gallon trash can and filled it with water. We perched the can on the window ledge just out of sight from the ground.

    Because the Japanese hymnbook is written in Japanese kana it took intense concentration on one’s hymnbook for newbies to sing even familiar hymns. Thus, none of the Sisters realized the water was heading toward them until it was everlastingly too late.

    Sisters Isaacson, Nielson, Howard, Claridge, Grant, and all the others: I’m truly sorry. Jenkins made me do it!

  129. S.P. Bailey says:

    It was my junior year of high school. I didn’t want to go to the prom. I was between girlfriends, and I resented the extravagance of the whole thing anyway (I had to pay my own way for such things). However, I was given tickets to the dance, a free tux rental, and some other stuff for agreeing to emcee some lame high school assembly.

    So I decided to go with the idea of making a joke out of the whole thing. I believed that I had I identified a girl who hadn’t been asked with an awesome sense of humor who would be in on the joke. I believed that I had successfully communicated to her through friends what I was planning. I believed that she was cool with it.

    I got a cardinal red tuxedo with a gold cumberbund (my school’s colors). I asked the girl during the assembly on Friday morning. The dance was the next day. For dinner, we went to Chuck-A-Rama. Then to the dance. For our after-dance-activity, we watched Fletch at my friend’s house. Fletch!

    Later I found out that she wasn’t in on the joke AT ALL. I’m sure she was a very cool person. And she was cute. It just turns out she was actually excited to go to the prom! Like it would be so dreamy or something! Stupid princess fantasies! Oh, and one more detail: I learned that her mom had stayed up all night long the night before the dance sewing her dress!

    I felt terrible.

  130. S.P. Bailey (#129), I’m not sure forgiveness is possible for a boy who messes with a girl’s prom date. Didn’t you ever see Carrie?

  131. A new employee where I work got in the habit of joking around and we’d give each other a hard time.

    One day this new employee jokingly said something about my mother.

    I responded: “My mother is dead.”

    Needless to say, this person felt pretty bad for a few minutes … until I started laughing about it. I was lying, of course.


    Also, as a teenager I was once at a doctor’s appointment and he reached down to (cough, cough) check something and I involuntarily slapped his hand. Hard. He glared at me – he was pretty mad.

  132. S.P. Bailey, contrary to what Whitney says, you have come to the right place for forgiveness. You see, if I were to include a 4th worst thing I’ve ever done, I would have a tale of high school dance jerk-pileness that would ease your and Kevinf’s (22.) pains.

  133. Where’s my freaking absolution? I confess and you absolve. I am waiting to see if it works.

  134. crazywomancreek, never mess with boys and their mommies. Keep on gnashing your teeth–it won’t help you!

  135. I was 9!

  136. Too late!

  137. I knew it. Yes, there was my age, the fact that I did believe it to be true, at least by “educated” lights, and of course that the threat would keep me out of trouble. But, ultimately, you’re right, there’s no absolution for messing with a kid’s head that way.
    Poor Lonnie.

  138. I once asked my younger brother if he’d ever seen a match burn twice. He said no, so I lit a match and said “once”, then I blew it out and stuck the smoking stick on his arm and said “twice”. He then tried it on our little sister and got a whipping for it and I walked away unpunished.

    At work I used to fake virus warnings with the old NetSend dos commands that sadly haven’t worked since windows XP was invented.

    I also used to take a screenshot of people’s computers and set it as their background, then I’d delete all of their icons, and see how long they would click on the fake icons, before they came to me the “IT guy” to fix their icons.

    Which reminds me of the time as a office missionary I accidentally wrote over the mission finance program when screwing around on the computer, and spent the next 2 days heroically fixing the computer by learning to read computer technical manuals in german. I never fessed up that the reason I so quickly knew what was wrong was that I had moments before watched the program write over top of itself.

  139. Oh I forgot, in order to make this a full confession, the fake virus warnings always included very personal stuff about the targeted user to freak them out, such as the color of their shirt or what they ate for lunch.

  140. #126 Martin, that’s already happened.

  141. aloysiusmiller says:

    Not the worst thing I have ever done but malicious all the same: I solve the advance Sudokus in the airplane magazine’s during flight. It usually takes me most of the flight. But then I write three minutes and the date underneath the solved sudoku.

  142. In high school, we mixed up some nasty looking chicken soup and one of the guys hid it in his coat. We were in the cafeteria, and I was drinking a milk shake. As it neared the bottom, I said (loud enough for many around us to here) “this milk shake tastes strange!”
    I passed the shake around for others to taste. Upon which, the guy with the soup pretended to hurl.

    After my mission, a friend and I were with friends on the college campus (Univ Montana) at the bowling alley. It closed at midnight, and we were all going over to one of the dorms. Most decided to walk, because it would be faster than driving through the one-way streets. I didn’t want them to beat us, so we drove the sidewalk system through campus, and beat the walkers to the dorm by 10 minutes.

    I almost feel ashamed, yet relieved at sharing this information.

  143. Alf O'Mega says:

    At my first computer programming job out of college in the late 80s I had a seriously weird boss who had a number of irrational fears. Not that the things he feared weren’t worth fearing, but the degree of his fear was out of all proportion to the thing itself. Anyway, who remembers when computer viruses were passed from machine to machine by floppies instead of the internet? He had read some PC Magazine article on the subject and made not catching a computer virus our small company’s most important goal.

    I snuck into his office one evening after he had left and did a little editing of his AUTOEXEC.BAT file. (That’s the file that executed startup tasks whenever the machine was rebooted.) I added a line that would display the message: “Possible virus detected near video memory. Press Alt-F to fix.” Upon pressing Alt-F, a memory-resident gimmick program executed that had little ASCII bugs crawl all over his screen and erase what was there (until he hit any other key, and then the screen would be restored).

    We all heard the gratifyingly girlish scream he let out the next morning. He pretended to be cool with the joke, but I could tell that I had loosened the last hinge on the door marked “Marbles: Do Not Open”.

  144. Is the mike still open?

    In middle school, I was a horribly sarcastic, mouthy child, but I tried to have good intentions. After P.E. one day I asked a morbidly obese classmate why he didn’t just try to participate in some of the activities. He replied that his asthma prevented him from doing more than walking the entire period, and added, “It runs in my family.” Speaking before thinking, I said, “That’s silly, Jordan! Nobody runs in your family.”

    My caustic reply haunts me to this day when I picture the rage and pain fixed on his face as he chased me around the locker room with his hands outstretched as if to strangle me.

    I’m sorry, Jordan, that my adolescent brain prevented a full measure of compassion for your family condition.

  145. RE: My caustic reply haunts me to this day when I picture the rage and pain fixed on his face as he chased me around the locker room with his hands outstretched as if to strangle me.

    But at least you got him running Russel. Certainly this can’t be a sin since your actions motivated him to perform a little exercise, which was the intent of your conversation to begin with. End justifies the means and all that…

  146. Steve G., thanks for saying what everyone else thought, but didn’t say.

  147. Once in church at BYU, my roommate and I were in sunday school passing notes back and forth with riddiculous insults, such as ‘Chris smells like urine’, and ‘Newt listens to New Kids on the Block’, etc. I was sitting against the wall to my right, and he was sitting on my to my left. He got this goofy look and started writing something. Then, he turned the paper so only I could see, where he had written in big letters ‘PENIS’. I let out one of those loud snorts that happens when you try to suppress a laugh and totally disrupted class. And how was I supposed to explain what happened!?

    Sorry BYU ward.

  148. Alf: “but I could tell that I had loosened the last hinge on the door marked “Marbles: Do Not Open”.”

    That was brilliant. Still laughing. Thanks for that.

  149. Newt (147), it is highly inappropriate to confess another person’s sins!

  150. aloysiusmiller:

    How many times have I cried myself to sleep after being on a plane where i read someone solved the Sodoku faster than I ever dreamed possible.

  151. Turkulainen says:

    There was this missionary once in our ward, his name was Elder Bosworth (or BARTHWORTH, for all I can remember). Anyway, in my immaturity I always thought he was a bit of an arrogant jerkface. I have since repented and learned that we shouldn’t think that way of the Lord’s anointed.

    Elder Bosworth, if you are reading this, I’m so sorry!


  152. No, you pretty much nailed it on the head. I was, and still am, a bit of an arrogant jerkface.

  153. Back in my first (miserable and thankfully only) year at Ricks College, email was a new thing. The default password for all campus accounts was a four-digit code derived from the month and year of the account holder’s birthday.

    Anyway, one of my roommates had a girlfriend that I and the rest of my roommates didn’t like. (I’m not really sure why we didn’t like her so much — she was probably a nice girl. Perhaps it was because we were good friends with his ex — to whom, I might add, he is now married.)

    They had just started kissing (a first for my roommate), so three of us hacked (I use the term generously since it obviously didn’t require any kind of skills) both of their email accounts and sent them messages to/from each other about how much they loved kissing the other one. We tried to make them really over the top — the only phrase I really remember writing was that he/she had “really enjoyed the ear thing” — but they ended up buying it and it caused a huge fight. (I can’t remember right now if they actually broke up or not.)

    So, one of my other roommates offered to take the fall and fess up because, as he put it, the wronged kisser would probably forgive him, but not the rest of us. That’s how it all went down — I never apologized.

    A few days or weeks later, there was an article in the campus paper about people getting in trouble with the police for doing exactly what we had done.

  154. Orwell, for all you know it could have been for the better. Maybe the couple learned to communicate better? And to change their passwords? :)

    Anyway, I was at a family reunion one time chatting with my brother. He was making some light-hearted smack talk, asking me which parts of my body I would let him to punch. Eventually he asked about my kidneys.

    My dad has a genetic disease which made his kidneys fail at about age 50, and necessitated a kidney transplant from my uncle. My brother has the same disease.

    My brother: “Can I punch you in the kidneys?”
    Me: “No, you might need those!”

    At this point I was so embarrassed that I turned bright red and laughed uncontrollably, then begging forgiveness for what I’d said. Luckily it turned into a running joke about how much I needed to take care of my kidneys.

    John, thanks for having a sense of humor.

  155. Scott, this is hilarious! You just might be able to have a congregation with this thing! (also, funny to read your confessions) Was that Mike?

  156. #2 – If this was sometime between ’91 and ’93 I was also neck deep in Lake Powell, Long Live Page Zone!

    (I also seem to recall crashing the pool at a Holiday Inn in Gallup NM at some point).

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