The Disgusting Food You Loved To Eat as a Kid

Kids are strange. They say and do weird shit, and they love to put weird shit in their mouths—anything from Gushers (not a food, forget the marketing) to, like, bowls of Cheetos floating in milk like a deranged cereal and, like, tubes of ketchup. This week, I want to hear all about the disgusting crap you loved to eat as a child. (For instance, I was a sauce-packet eater, and I am not proud. I suppose it is better than eating boogers or sand, but not by much.) As always, bonus points will be awarded to the Pissing Contest commenter with the best story. Did you puke after downing 20 Go-Gurts on a dare? Did you eat entire sticks of butter, much to the chagrin of your mother? I want to hear it all, in every gross detail.

But first, let’s take a look at last week’s winners: these are the most disturbing things you’ve seen on public transportation. Satan help us all.

Suzyn Torvalds, this is the grossest story I have ever read?:

I went to junior high and high school in the city, (NYC) living in Queens at the time. I was coming home from school and was in the last car. There was a woman at the front of the car, and sitting across from me a man in Jewish Orthodox traditional attire. He was jerking off. Looking at me. All of 16 years old me. I was reading the Village Voice, so I held it higher to block the view of this disgusting human being. I looked over behind the paper at the woman, who was engrossed in reading something and didn’t notice. I was frozen.

Then this man got up, looked at me, and came all over the pole nearest the opposite door. The trained pulled into 59th St, and he left. The people getting on were sliding in his cum and those that reached for the cum covered pole were getting a handful.

I finally got home. My mom said “I got you cottage cheese for a snack”. I almost vomited. I told her I wasn’t hungry. Later on, I told her what had happened.

This was in 1971. I will never get in the last car of the train again.

Assistant Undersecretary of Only Okay, thank you:

I was riding the county bus home, and it was filling up as it was about 6 or 7 pm. A man sits down next to me and puts his backpack between his legs on the floor in front of him. “Don’t be surprised if a head pops out of this bag,” he tells me. Now, maybe I just read/listen/watch way too much true crime, but I immediately begin to picture a severed human head rotting inside this man’s backpack. The bus certainly has enough other smells to cover up the potential smell of death. A few stops later a white ferret pokes it’s cute little head out from an unzippered portion near the top of the backpack, and the man fed it a treat. I was relieved and also disturbed that my brain didn’t guess at what was clearly the more likely scenario. I know it’s not gross, but I figured this topic could use a palate cleanser.

tlingit, it does, and sorry:

Does a sensation count? I’ll never forget the time I sat on a warm, wet spot on a crowded bus. It was a very long ride, and a cold day. I figured damage was done, kept the spot, slid a newspaper under me and miserably rode home. Took an endless shower and cried later.

Claire Reyes is in the greys, I’m going to have nightmares:

When I lived in San Francisco, an old lady carrying a pair of live chickens attempted to get on the 30 Stockton bus. That is, she did get on, but the driver tried to get her to get off, saying, “Lady, you can’t get on this bus with those birds!”

She just yelled at him in Chinese, and he kept saying, “The rules say ‘No livestock.’ You cannot ride the bus with live chickens!”

She wrang their necks and proceeded to her seat.

The Holy Hand Grenade, yikes:

High school, on my way to school on a public bus. Got up at 5AM and couldn’t sleep, so I got on the bus at 5.30. It’s still dark and the bus had 3 riders. I sat on the long rear bench.

Half way, a kid got on. Couldn’t have been older than 7 or 8. He sat down next to me.

A minute after he sat down, boy whips out a paper bag and takes a giant long huff from it like he’s going to free dive after.

Then the kid hands me the bag: “Want a hit? $2.”

I declined and got off the next stop to wait for the next bus.

Also, first time I took the NYC subway I somehow walked into a crime scene from the end that wasn’t cordoned off yet. Saw a body under cloth. The brain was scattered about 3 feet away.

Relive the nauseating joy of innocence in the comments below.