A few bad thoughts about sex from the Anonymous bin:

I used to think “oral sex” meant talking dirty…

In 1st grade my friend told me that sex is when a boy and girl take all of their clothes off and kiss each other. I believed that false truth until 3rd grade too.

From an anonymous submitter:

I used to think girls peed out of their butts until I found out about vaginas which was probably around third grade.

I’m pretty sure girls pee from their urethra, but at least you’re getting closer!

Another quick hit from the anonymous bin:

When I was younger, In Church we would always pray to stop Euthanasia. I always wondered what the youth in Asia were up to that was so bad.

A quick hit from the anonymous bin:

My mom always watches football, and I used to watch it with her all time when I was little. I didn’t think my dad could play football because he wasn’t born with “big shoulders”

I’m sure most of us can relate to this experience by a Mysterious Stranger:

When I was a kid I thought that Hall & Oats was Haulin’ Oats. I assumed they were a country band that sang about farming.

I know I pretty much thought the same thing at one point.

A Mysterious Stranger from Arizona shares the following:

When I was a kid, I of course watched TV and inevitably saw commercials. You know how it would say “Call the number on your screen”? I, until age twelve, thought that meant you had to transform your television screen into a mysterious telephone, and actually call the number, ON your screen.

Al from New Jersey discovers the effects of fire plus gas.

Growing up as a child in the suburbs on NJ I could not stand to be dressed up in a suit for Easter Sunday.

The suburb we lived in had recently undergone a sanitary sewer system project because of the home’s failing septic systems. The construction project had disturbed the natural gas lines that ran alongside the sewer system in the street. There were now gas leaks occurring weekly up and down the streets in the neighborhood. They would report the smell of gas and NJ natural gas would come and excavate and patch the pipes.

It was Easter Sunday 1963, if I recall. I was seven and I was all dressed up in my blue suit for Easter Sunday services. I was miserable. While my parents were finishing getting dressed I wandered outside to talk to my friend across the street Kippy Mensch. As I crossed the street I noticed an odor of gas coming from the manhole cover directly in front of our house. I stopped in my tracks and came up with a brilliant idea. As a child of seven I recalled the cartoons of the day where explosions resulted in little harm to the victim other than a blackened face and their clothes in tatters. I silently crept back in the house and opened the kitchen drawer where my mom kept the matches. I went back outside looking behind me to make sure they didn’t bust me.

My friend Kippy met me and the manhole cover. I crouched down, lit the match and just as I dropped it into the pick hole of the cover, the inside of the manhole lit up like a furnace. I reacted by blocking the flame with my right hand and closing my eyes as a torch like flame blasted out the hole. My right hand took the brunt of it and in terror I leaped up and ran up the driveway. No sooner had I reached the curb when a blast lifted the lid to just about the top of the telephone pole like a ringing Tiddlywink, landing and wedging itself sideways in the manhole.

To this day I don’t recall any pain as I took my left hand and tightly gripped it around my right wrist. My parents met me at the door with this look of horror! I don’t remember if I told them what I had done.

An ambulance came and rushed me to the hospital in Red Bank which was about 25 minutes away, by then they knew what I had done. My parents always claimed I had third degree burns but that’s not possible as I have no scarring at all. Even though skin was blistered, burnt, and hanging from my hand. My hair was burnt along with my eyebrows and I still remember that horrible smell. Kippy was not harmed though his socks were as singed as my hand that had deflected the flame.

Suffice to say I not only got out of that ridiculous blue suit that day, but I also got me and my siblings out of Easter Sunday services as well.

To this day I cannot find any newspaper clippings of the event archived. My parents never sued the gas company because that wasn’t done that often in those days. I have searched for news items on Easter Sundays 1962, 63 and 64 with no success. My parents have passed so I can’t ask them. I can just say I am lucky to be alive as that manhole cover could have taken my head off on launch had the explosion not been delayed those two or three seconds. I don’t know why it did, I cannot explain it.

And to think, this was a good thirty years before the infamous Beavis & Butthead episode where they exploded a house with gas and a match.

A mysterious stranger shares their version of what it was like to think that humans get pregnant via kissing.

Up until 6th grade, I had a very wrong idea of how babies were born. See, when I was only five, a boy kissed me right in front of my mom. The next morning, my parents told me that I have to marry him now that he kissed me. From this, I derived the conclusion that this boy got me pregnant by kissing me, and that it’s not proper to be pregnant and unmarried.

Later on in my short childhood, I saw a video of how an egg is fertilized. The sperm touches the egg, etc. etc. And from this bloomed my incredibly off idea that when I kiss a boy, his sperm goes down my esophagus and gets to my egg, which is in my stomach. Ten the baby grows up in my stomach eating my food until he is ready and is excreted through my anus.

When a boy at school finally told me how babies are really born, I told him he’s wrong, and proceeded to explain to him how babies are really really born (in my opinion, at the time.)

Even more amazing than the last time the ‘Kissing makes me pregnant’ scenario came up.

Katlyn mangles some dwarves and freaks out her mother:

When I was a very little girl my parents were going through a divorce and I was experiencing what it was like to have a split family, living with my mother and visiting my father on weekends..

Many times my dad would take me to the movie theaters just to spend quality time and I’d go home and tell my mom about it..

On this particular occasion I arrived home very excited to fill my mom in, I looked at her with a cheesy grin she tells me, and said “Mommy! Today I went to see Snow white and the seven divorces!” .. She was completely mortified!

K. Praslowicz shares another tale of being a stupid little child:

Back when I was a young boy I used to see the commercials on television for upcoming football games and wonder in amazement how they could be showing actual clips from the game if it hadn’t been played yet. Of course, the footage they showed was from previous games.

It puzzled me to the point that one day I went and asked my father how this was possible. I’m sure he thought that I was stupid.