More specifically a nose. I was 7 or 8 at the time and I didnt quite understand death. My grandfather had passed away and we walked up to the casket to pay our respects. I stood there looking at him and thought he was sleeping. He was Italian and had a pretty big schnoz. I decided to boop him on the nose to see if I could wake him. My dad quickly moved my hand out of the way and scolded me.

MacCostello 

Ilovemyanimals024

Since I started drinking alcohol I have never puked. I don't drink often. In fact, I probably drink once a month or once every few months at times, but when I do, I just let the party carry me through.

Everyone generally has a good time but eventually when I wake up, I always wake up "coming to" and have a hard time remembering everything from the night before.

"Browning out" is what it's called.

It's been this way since I started and just feel anxious about all the conversations I had with people, worried I said something offensive or too personal without realizing it.

I never "hit on" people cause I'm in a great relationship but I can't help but feel annoyed at my self that I always forget conversations I had from the night before.

Anyways just wanted to confess that I hate how I feel after "Browning out" because I don't really remember the fun I had the night before. My friends all say I was having a good time but it's frustrating because I don't always know if I'm saying things I shouldn't be.
MOTIVATEDTOBEFIT

I passed by a house with a gate and the dog was wagging its tail at me and poked its head out between the bars so I put my hand out in front of him and he sniffed it, sneezed, and walked away.
Richpotatothethird

I woke up to the bathroom in use, and shit touching cloth. Didn't have time to knock and wait so ran into the yard and popped a squat, cleaned up with leaves, then went inside to shower, etc.

While in the shower my partner got up and let the dogs out, and I hear a "what the f**k is that!?". My heart started pounding. She had found it. I hadn't cleaned it up yet.

We have two dogs, both under 5 kg. The shit was the size of the smaller one. I've convinced her it was one of the dogs, so now I'm taking them to the vet tomorrow because "a dog taking a shit the size of its body can't be a good thing".

I'm not admitting it was mine, not now. Hopefully, the vet bill isn't too high.

As a kid, my parents always used to go to antique shops. To find things for the house, a unique housewarming gift or just to browse. I was always fascinated by the boxes and boxes of unsent postcards.

I always wondered why there were so many. My parents bought just enough cards for the folks they wanted to send them to. They never had extras. I don't know if this was frugality or what.

As an adult, I travel a ton for work now and I have probably over a hundred postcards. Some filled out. Most blank. I don't think anyone wants to hear from me so I just go my thing. Slowly collecting postcards that will probably get tossed when I die.

Whenever I see a dog or cat being pet I always think "Oh my god that looks nice!". I want someone to brush my hair, or rub my back. Pets get this EVERY DAY. So jealous.