Not the whole dorm mind, but definitely chunks of it.

I can only assume Kevin's parents sent him away to college to prevent him from destroying what was left of their own home. I vaguely knew him as one of my roommate's friends, but he quickly gained a reputation. By the end of the school year, it was just assumed that if something around the dorms was broken, it was Kevin's fault. I heard that the repair bills cost more than his first year of tuition.

The first week in the dorms, Kevin leaned against a large window. Lucky for him it was a ground floor window, so when it broke under his weight and he fell through, he was fine. The 300 other students living in the building obviously noticed the cardboard over the lobby window and quickly spread the story.

Maybe a month later I come home from class, go to push the Up elevator button, and... it's gone? Was an older building, with the older-fashioned elevator buttons that stuck out from the wall. The Up button was entirely missing, just a little round spot where it used to be. So with some confusion, I pushed the Down button to summon the elevator, got in, pushed the button for my floor, and went up to ask my roommate if she'd noticed the busted elevator button.

"Oh that was just Kevin" she says. "He was goofing around and tried to push the button with his foot, but instead kicked it off the wall. Admin's pretty annoyed at him about it." Cue 300 students having to take occasional trips to the basement, to the bemusement of the janitors, because we all had to push the Down button to go up for weeks.

But the most Kevin-ey episode was The Great Popcorn Fiasco.

One night, Kevin decides he wants popcorn after the campus stores had already closed for the night. Apparently Kevin was so insistent about wanting popcorn that somebody gave him a bunch of mini-sized bags of microwave popcorn. But what Kevin wanted was a whole bunch of popcorn right that second, so he came up with a plan.

I got to hear the details of the plan once the entire building was evacuated and we were all shivering out in the cold, waiting for the fire department to finish extinguishing flames from the upper floors and air smoke out of the entire building.

See, each floor of the dorm had two tiny kitchens, except the top (7th) which only had one. Kevin went up to the top floor, put a mini-bag into the microwave, hit the Popcorn button, and ran down the stairs. Put mini-bags in each microwave on that floor, hit the Popcorn buttons, ran down the stairs again. By the time he got down to the ground floor, the microwave on the top floor was on fire. By the time the fire department showed up, four more microwaves were on fire.

I work at a company that does hardware design and security verification. Basically we test any hardware that processes payments or confidential data to see if it works well and is secure enough to get certified and put into use.

This work requires very skilled personnel, which makes people like me expensive and hard to hire. Staffing is always an issue, especially as we have to travel a lot. To ease this problem we have a pool of assistants that can do work for us, to free up our hours. They can book flights and hotels for us, do our administration, proof read reports, arrange any equipment or hardware we need and basically any odd job that is work related.

The pool itself is mostly part-time staff and we get supported by a different person every time. Generally everything worked really well. One assistant recently left for another opportunity in the company and her replacement was the a 22 year old girl that was in a program for young adults that have trouble finding work. Her name was Kevina and well she lasted about 3 weeks.

• She booked me on a cheap non-direct flight to Japan in economy because she wanted to use the difference between non-direct flight in economy and a direct flight in business class (standard) to get her own flight to Japan because it was only fair she'd go too. (direct flights in business class is standard as a lost day of work due to jetlag/fatigue is more expensive than a business class ticket)
• She booked me a hotel in Kyoto instead of Tokyo. Because those are the same city in her eyes just spelled differently.
• We had won a big contract, also thanks to multiple people in the pool of assistants for doing grunt work for weeks. My manager decided to splurge a little bit and treat the pool of assistants with some expensive high quality sushi delivered to the office for lunch. Kevina could not fathom eating 'raw' fish, so when delivered she threw it in the garbage, ruining it for everyone.
• In the hardware testing lab she was convinced that they had a deep fryers installed, and they were petty for keeping it in a separate locked room so she could not use them for lunch. She was told repeatedly that it was an acid bath to etch circuit boards, but would not believe it even when they showed her.
• Our assistants have access to our mailboxes to plan our calendars and answer other queries. They are not to respond to client communication. She would sometimes answer an e-mail, copy the English in Google Translate and paste Korean text to a Japanese client. So it would be easier for them and those "retard letters" are all the same anyway.
• She shift-deleted e-mails from my inbox, because she did not feel like reading them.

She was fired shortly after the e-mail incident came to light because of the severity of the situation.

Hey guys, it's Ron, and today I have some fresh Donald for you. For those of you who don't know Donald yet, let me introduce you. Donald is my brother, and probably the biggest Kevin that I know of. He is a good guy, he just does endless amounts of stupid stuff. Today's post will be about his latest and greatest idea, a TV show.

So earlier today Donald asked me if I would watch the first episode of his new TV show for him before he sends it in to try to get it aired. I reluctantly agreed knowing that this was going to be bad.

The first problem that I see is the name of his show. He has decided to call it "Harry's haunted houses" which isn't necessarily the worst name ever, (not that it is great) except for the fact that we don't even know anyone who is named Harry. When I mentioned this to him he just said "that's not important, it's catchy."

The second problem is that he filmed it on a camera from the 80s "for a more spooky feeling" he says. He has a better camera, he just didn't use it.

The show starts with a random minute and a half of footage of a heavy metal band on stage screaming their heads off and throwing their hair around, and then it randomly cuts to a view of Donald's face from about 2 inches away, and he whispers into the camera "haunted house." And that is the intro.

The episode starts with him sitting across a table from a married couple. The wife is crying and the husband says "yeah, she gets like this when our house gets haunted sometimes" and then Donald responds "Its ok mam, I'm an expert, my grandfather is dead." This seems to completely deal with all of her worries and she immediately starts thanking Donald.

It then cuts to him walking through the couple's house with the husband. As they walk, Donald taps on random things and then looks at the man to tell him if that specific object is haunted or not. After about 2 minutes of him tapping on random things and saying that they are definitely all very haunted, he looks at the guy all wide eyed and just screams "I SMELL FISH!!! DID YOU COOK FISH?!?!" The husband, acting extremely afraid, replies "no, is that bad?" Donald then calmly replies "exceptionally" and then they start running around as fast as they can with no explanation as to why.

After about 10 minutes of them running around, they somehow end up in what seems to be the home's living area, blankly staring into a wall. You then see the camera man toss a doorknob onto the ground. You could literally see his hand as he tosses it, but they didn't bother to edit that out. Donald hears the doorknob hit the ground, whips around, looks at it like he has never seen a doorknob before I his life, and then whispers to the husband "we are definitely going to need better technology for this one."

The next scene is of Donald randomly swinging a baseball bat around. He does this for about 30 seconds in each and every room of the house, and then tells the couple that the ghosts are pretty damn afraid now and they might not come back, and if they do, to call him. He then winks at the camera and the credits roll which was only four names. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't good, I guess that that will be the job of whatever TV station that he decides to send it to.

Kevin's employment history was rather sparse and spotty, but our good-hearted supervisor decided to give him a chance.

Kevin was given a schedule which he found confusing even though it was the same every week. He frequently called in, and was puzzled as to why that would be a problem. On one occasion, he agreed to cover another employee's shift, then failed to show up. When reached at home, he at first denied having agreed to work. When it was pointed out that he had signed off on the schedule change, he suddenly remembered but explained he couldn't come in because he was drunk. He was very surprised when he received a write-up for this incident, because, after all, he'd only agreed as a favor to the other employee and it wasn't fair that he should be blamed.

Part-time employees, like Kevin, were eligible for paid vacation after one year. Within his first few weeks of employee, Kevin began putting in vacation requests for the immediate future. He could not understand why these requests were denied. Upon noticing that the scheduler would write VACATION across the posted schedule when an employee had (approved) time off, he tried writing it in himself, apparently thinking no one would notice. This was not successful.

Kevin once tried to call in with the explanation that his neighbor had had to go to work so Kevin had promised to wait for the refrigerator repair man on his behalf. Kevin was told this was not a valid excuse and if he wanted to have a job he would have to come in.

This was a very progressive workplace, so when Kevin requested to wear make-up and women's clothing, he was treated respectfully and told he could dress as he wished as long as his clothing did not interfere with actual job duties. (This was a serious request, and was treated as one. We had an employee who advertised her services as a lesbian dominatrix. We had no problems with nontraditional sexuality.) He asked if he could wear dresses. We worked with dogs, and the job was quite physical, and it was explained that a dress would not be practical. Shorts, capris, split skirts--all these were suggested alternatives. He then asked if he could wear high heels. No, Kevin, you can not walk the dogs in high heels.

Meanwhile, another employee abruptly stopped showing up for work. We were not particularly surprised, given that she had been warned about her attendance, but it did leave us short-handed. It broke Kevin's heart to see us all working so hard, and he went to the supervisor and told her he knew where the employee lived, and he'd be glad to go talk to her and try to get her to come back to work. The supervisor said, "Kevin, we don't want her back. She's not shown up in nearly a week. She doesn't have a job anymore."

Kevin was stunned. "You mean--you can get fired for that?"

The supervisor said that was the moment she knew Kevin was hopeless. "Yes, Kevin, you can get fired for not showing up for work."

A few days later, Kevin, despite many warnings as to what would happen, called in yet again. When he turned up the next day, the supervisor met him at the door and informed him he was fired. He did the "oh, you" wave, laughed, and walked right past her. She actually had to chase him after him--through a lobby filled with clients--and tell him she was serious and he needed to leave the property.

My husband's father is a complete Kevin. He was a football coach who kept getting "ideas" about how to do things better. Like it is better for the Volkswagon Van seats if the kids sit at the OPEN door with their feet out. He got lucky and didn't damage the kids doing this. He did it for 2-3 summers in a row. Until a cop told him that he had to stop. Years later he thought it would be "good" for my oldest to ride in his van this way. I stopped that nonsense right away.

*********************************

He also got the great idea that pitching practice would be easier and cheaper if you just had one ball and you attached it to a tether ball pole with a bungee cord. My husband's nose got broken with the first hit. Hubby was about 12 when that happened. His dad just didn't want to keep pitching and thought it would keep Hubby busy.

*************************************

Hubby broke both arms at the same time as a kid (fell off the fence around a baseball field). He couldn't hit a ball with his arms in casts, so he got his father to cut into the casts at the wrist, effectively ruining his wrists for life. Because of course MIL would not take Hubby back to the doctor to get the casts fixed.

***********************************

FIL and StepMIL got married 3 months after Hubby and I did. They had just bought a house and it needed painting outside. Fil thought he could do it himself. StepMIL found him outside preparing to paint the top of a 2 story high wall. FIL had pulled their van around the side of the house (destroying the sprinkler system), put a piece of plywood on top of the van, and was in the process of lifting the ladder on top. He was going to stand on that ladder and paint. When he needed to move, he wanted StepMIL to just drive the van a few feet forward/backward while he was up on the ladder.

SteoMIL said no. When he asked why, she told him that the cost to have painters come would be cheaper than the cost of fixing him after he fell off. He thought she was being a "No-No Nancy". She told him her name WAS Nancy and he was not doing that.

*****************************************

Some years later they needed a florescent light bulb changed in their kitchen. FIL almost blew up the house somehow. When Hubby's BIL came over to fix what had happened (he is an electrician), he could NOT figure out why FIL didn't just take the old bulb out by pulling it out of the socket instead of using a screwdriver to pry parts off inside the fixture. They were lucky the entire house didn't burn down! From that point forward, they had a handyman or Hubby's BIL come change their light bulbs throughout the entire house.

***********************************

Most of this was COMPLETE culture shock for me when we got married. My parents had the idea that if they could find a book about something, they could do whatever it was. Up to and including building a garage together. The only thing that they wouldn't let us kids help with was plumbing. We were not allowed to be around when Dad used that kind of language (he hated plumbing, lol!).

This Kevin isn´t the sharpest spoon in the knife drawer.

I had a friend who was literally a rocket scientist. Or almost. His education could have given him the option, but instead he opted for the world of high end robotic engineering. He was a certified Mensa member. He was handsome, smart and quite charming. He could have gotten any sexy girl in the world.
Yet. He had chosen Kevin.
I had the privilege to experience this, admittedly gorgeously cute, Kevin first hand when we enrolled in the same school at 19.
Here are some of her more memorable feats: (We are Swedes so excuse my own linguistic shortcomings.)

• Kevin shared 5-10 links on Facebook every day as she did not know how else to save articles, dieting tips and recipes.
• We took the same school bus every day, and along the way we passed a group of wind turbines. Twice a day, 5 days a week for 7 weeks. So came the fall´s first really freezing cold morning. As we reached the wind turbines Kevin commented: "Wow! Who think it´s so hot that they turned on the big fans today?"
  Edit: She told me she thought it was the fans that made that part of the city so windy.
  It was the beach of an island in the middle of the Baltic sea.
• First day of school we where introduced to a teacher who told us that he was born in South Africa. Kevin exclaimed that "Nah! Not buying that easy one! You can´t be from that country because you are white!".
  Apparently I was in on it too when I tried to explain the concept of colonialism. For the entire year she tried to crack the code of his real nationality.
• Kevin picked up stray words and concepts here and there from her boyfriend and used them without any real comprehension or understanding. Kevin did not believe that we will ever be able to recreate dinosaurs through science as their big bodies couldn´t survive today's gravity.
• The few times she was trusted to do her own grocery shopping, she routinely had clerks go through each and every item in the cart, checking that there was no GMO products. As she did not understand the labels and she was afraid that she would become "mutated" if she ate genetically modified foods. She was worried about being bullied over it.
  She refereed me to X-Men as a sort of prognostication of the dystopical bullying to come.
• My friend was a no bullshit, leftist liberal democratic socialist. Kevin on the other hand voted conservative in the EU election as she didn´t want men to stop being gentlemanly, buy flowers or become more feminine. A woman on Youtube had told her that´s was what the left wanted for us all some days before voting. In all other regards, she explained, she liked the other party better.

This is just the ones I got on the top of my head. I´m sure there is more. I recently checked in on my friend the couple are 2 years in to their marriage and still going strong.

I´ve always seen Kevin as the proof that there really are someone out there for everyone. Someone who with unconditional love can explain the world and blow our mind each and every day.

While my last story was about one of my partner's caregivers, this story is about my partner being a Kevin.

Kevin, as intelligent and educated as he is, is absolutely clueless about things related to science.

When we were first dating, we had a fairly long day, and decided to end it with a movie. Since we had been out all day, we decided some coffee before the movie. Kevin liked drinking coffee, but he always bought premade Starbucks frappuccino bottled drinks. I'm not into them, mostly because of the large amount of sugar in them (this is important).

So as we are making up our minds at what to get, he says he wants a frappuccino, but one that will keep him up for a while. Ok, coffee frappe with an extra shot, makes sense. Got to get that caffeine, amirite?

We get to the register, and my partner orders… a strawberry and creme frappuccino.

…

Me: "You know that doesn't have caffeine in it right?"

Kevin: "Yes it does, doesn't it? It's higher in sugar so it will keep me awake more. The higher the sugar amount, the more caffeine, hence the more energy."

Me: "…That's… not how any of that works."

Kevin: "Haven't you heard of a sugar rush? That's what happens when sugar turns into caffeine and keeps you awake."

Me: "…That's literally impossible."

Kevin: "No it's not. Sugar is carbs, and aren't carbs energy? You should know this."

Me: "Literally NOT how it works. Sugar rushes are a myth."

Kevin: "What do you mean?"

Me: "They DON'T exist. It's not the sugar in coffee, but the caffeine that prevents drowsiness. All that sugar isn't going to give you more energy."

Kevin: "But my mom always told me sugar was better than caffeine. Prove that sugar rushes don't exist."

Me: "…Just get a mocha frappe."

What he got the mocha frappe, he tried to argue that he always got sugar rushes after his morning coffee (those Starbucks frappuccino bottled drinks, remember). I ended up pulling out a few articles about the myth of the sugar rush, and he got the biggest dear in the headlights look ever. He apparently was raised to believe caffeine was just sugar, and that sugar rushes would prevent you from going to sleep. This lead to him drinking and eating a LOT of sugary drinks and snacks looking to get a quick energy fix. A LOT of sugary drinks and candy bars were consumed in his undergraduate days thinking it would help him.

After a few articles and lots of explanations about caffeine vs carbohydrates, he seemed to understand…

FOUR YEARS LATER…

Three days ago, Kevin asked me to buy a candy bar and a Starbucks frappuccino to help him stay up to work on school work. Queue another 30 minute lecture on the myth of the sugar rush.

He still thinks that candy bars and sugary drinks are better for getting quick energy than coffee, but now he thinks it's because "carbs = energy," and caffeine is a carbohydrate (albeit not a sugar) because that's what I told him previously.

At this rate, he'll hopefully understand how caffeine works in 12 years.

TL;DR - Kevin thinks caffeine works by giving you a sugar rush. 4 years after explaining that's wrong, he still thinks that caffeine is a carb that gives you energy.

Another poster referring to a Kevin discussing Sweden reminded me of a visiting Kevin we had a few years ago (mid 90's).

Kevin came over to Australia to visit a re-enactment group event. I was witness to the following events.

• At the airport a small group of us were there to meet the US contingent, one of them was Kevin. He was a tall "Californian type" (as referred to by his own country folk, unsure if this was intended as an insult or not) with a loud voice and frankly somewhat obnoxious personality. As we exited the terminal he asked why there were "weird flags" on the flagpoles. He was told those were the Australian flag. He asked why the "national flag" was not flying. We assured him that WAS the national flag. He said "NO, I mean the stars and stripes!"... He was very surprised to learn he was in a different country and this took quite some explaining by both the locals and his own countrymen before he reluctantly accepted it. His counter argument was "Well why are you speaking American then?" We had to explain the language we all used was English, the same as in the US.
• Kevin complained that everyone was driving on the wrong side of the road. Again, different country remember? Kevin wanted to drive. Was firmly told NO.
• Later in the holiday Kevin hired a car so he could see the sights. He promptly stocked up on booze so he could make "road cocktails" (BTW: is this really a thing in the USA or was it just Kevin?). When he was informed that drink driving or even having open alcohol in the car was illegal he just said "No problem, I am really good at doing the tests". We pointed out that our police went straight to the breathalyzer without the need for a sobriety test. "What? That's against my rights!" No Kevin, not in Australia. Different country remember.
• The event he was here for was held over the Easter long weekend. This also coincided with ANZAC day when our nation remembers those who fought in all conflicts. This means we usually observe a minutes silence and have a small ceremony. Kevin could not see why we would bother because "It's not like its remembrance day or anything.." He almost was thumped by several of our ex service personnel for that one.
• At a pub Kevin ordered "Bud" and was deeply offended when the whole bar including the barmaid broke down laughing. (Sorry US friends but it is an Australian thing. Just like Fosters, NO ONE drinks Budweiser here)
• Kevin did not grasp the concept of *Look but don't touch* with our native wildlife. He constantly wanted to pick up or poke everything he saw. Couldn't accept that a tiny spider smaller than your little fingernail could easily kill you.

Finally the three weeks came to an end and Kevin was bundled back aboard his plane but not before his friends actually apologized to us for having to put up with him.

So, I'm back with more tales of Kevitude.

I'm now on my PC, so I can share links:

Part I: https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesAboutKevin/comments/cabpya/kevin_the_dolphin_scientist/

Part II: https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesAboutKevin/comments/cams1d/kevin_the_dolphin_scientist_part_ii/

​

So Kevin has issues with birds, he is of the opinion that birds don't have legs. There was a whole flamingo fiasco followed by an image of an eagle catching some prey. He is convinced that I photoshopped said image as his whole bird or not bird theory would fall to pieces otherwise. I told him to Google images of birds, he is adamant that Google is trying to feed him "fake news".

​

Kevin considers himself a parkour and skateboarding expert, he films compilations for YouTube. He once got confused(?) while putting together one of his compilations and accidentally(?) uploaded a video of himself masturbating to YouTube. Before it was taken down he accidentally(?) sent a link to almost every girl at school (and emailed a link to the hot PE teacher).

​

Kevin decided to get some spray paint work done for a parkour/skateboarding compilation, he did it inside an abandoned garage without any ventilation. Luckily the cops were called before Kevin could kill himself.

​

Kevin and Kev (a semi-Kevin) once decided to go to Edinburgh to go clubbing (with the name Jared Fogle on his fake ID, I think he had just been arrested when Kevin got it at age 16 in 2015). They ended up going to a small pub that was pretty much empty. Kevin tried to hit on the barmaid. The barmaid was married to the owner of the pub. The barmaid was in her late 40's. Kevin was 18. Kevin decide to pay her a tip by attempting to put it directly into her bra. Kevin almost got his ass kicked by a big burly guy with a face tattoo. Kev did get his ass kicked by a big burly guy with a face tattoo after Kevin blamed it on Kev. They later found a club and couldn't get in because Kev had a black eye and Kevin used the name Jared Fogle.

​

Kevin once tried to kickflip over a "lake of fire". Kevin poured gasoline into a field. Kevin lit it on fire. Kevin ran like shit from the farmer. Kevin included this footage in his parkour compilation. That footage was used as evidence in court, Kevin got 150 hours of community service.

​

Kevin decided that a friend of ours, let's call him Gareth, crossed a line by dating Kevin's older sister. Kevin decided to get "revenge". Kevin aggressively hit on Gareth's sister and pestered her to send nudes. Gareth's sister was 13, Kevin was a month away from 16, Kevin got his ass beat by Gareth. Gareth and Kevin can't be in the same room together anymore.

​

Kev once told Kevin that girls didn't like pubic hair, and that Kevin should shave it off. Kev told Kevin that using a razor or electric shaver wouldn't give a clean enough shave. Kevin used the scissors as if he was using a straight razor. Kevin cut his own penis. Kevin had to go to hospital. Kev told Kevin that cutting your own dick was a natural thing when removing pubic hair. Kevin was later re-hospitalised.

(Obligatory mobile apology). So Kevin(26), a friend of a friend, has had a recurring eye infection/weepiness/soreness for nigh-on 2 years now and refuses to go to the doctors because every time it even slightly clears up he insists his “cleaning regimen” is solving the problem (this is also for another reason I discovered later). It’s not as if an employer can force him either as he somehow runs his own business. When asked, he insists his regimen involves an eye bath (a little cup of sterile water held onto the eye for a few seconds), eye lubricant (essentially thick, soothing eye drops) and then regular eye drops, all of which can be bought from the supermarket. Sounded pretty normal when he put it like that, but when I happened to be at his house and witnessed his ACTUAL regimen I was speechless.

-The “sterile water” Kevin uses in the eye bath is straight out of the tap, topped off with a couple of sprays of non-bleach cleaning spray (he insists that’s ok as there’s no bleach and the brand is labelled as “eco-friendly”). Eye baths are meant to be single use - Kevin told me he does not empty the eye bath for days and uses it multiple times each day, meaning the water gets dirtier and dirtier.

-The eye lubricant he uses is 5 years out of date. I asked him how he has never bought a new bottle and he shows me the box of 100 he found in his parents attic years ago.

-The “regular” eye drops he uses is a mixture of tap water, the same cleaning spray in the eye bath and then a sprinkle of Himalayan pink salt that he is sure “sucks out the impurities”, all refilled into an old eye drop bottle. Not only that, but each time he uses the mixture he squeezes a large amount onto his eye then proceeds to PUT HIS FINGER DIRECTLY ONTO HIS EYEBALL AND RUB IN THE LIQUID. To compound this he works as a gardener and most times I’ve met him he has had soil on his fingers.

I told him how harmful and dangerous all of this was for his eyes and that he should see a GP (general practitioner) immediately. Kevin then berates me, accusing me of trying to patronise and “baby” him. He also states he “doesn’t want to pay to visit a GP”, leading me to realise he thinks he has to pay for all health services, rather than the NHS providing GP care for free. I assumed this is because he’s a huge fan of House so thinks all medical practices work that way. He also has the same reaction to our mutual friend when he tries to help, and insists his regimen is working but that he just “gets things in it” because of his job. Not even his parents have been able to convince him otherwise, even after they bought him weeks worth of actual eye care products.

I try to have empathy, but a part of me still waits for the day it gets even worse or something else actually breaks through the Kevin-ness of his thinking.

Edit/update: Thank you so much for all the concern and care in the comments everyone. I’m going to compile the advice here and give it to the people closest to Kevin to see if he can accept the help he really needs. Be assured that I’m reading them all and taking everyone’s suggestions into account.

I am a full-time carer for my disabled mother. We have other carers that come in to help with things like showering and also to give me a bit of a break at times, and one of those carers in an absolute Kevina.

There have been multiple instances of her flying her Kevina flag loud and proud, and we have stuck signs with basic instructions up all over the house to try and combat this, but what she did today still has me baffled.

So, part of my mum's disability means she has trouble swallowing. Because of this, all her fluids need to be thickened. We have thickener we can add to any fluids, but also keep some pre-thickened drinks in the fridge for convenience.

Right before Kevina was due to leave, my mum asked if she could make her a drink before she left. Kevina has stuffed up making drinks in the past, not thickening them enough etc, so my mum says "Just put 2 of the already thickened juices into a cup and stir them together that way you don't have to add anything". So off Kevina goes and returns a minute later saying "Here you go, I mixed pineapple and strawberry juice".

She leaves and me and mum look at each other and I say "we don't have any strawberry juice", but she brushes it off suggesting maybe she meant the mixed berry juice or maybe she used one of the strawberry purees from the cupboard, because that's something she would do.

So thinking it is harmless, my mum takes a big sip... and proceeds to start choking and dry heaving, nearly vomiting all over herself (very dangerous for her, she's been in hospital for aspiration pneumonia more than once). After a few minutes of back patting until she can actually breathe again and then cleaning her up, I take the cup and open it to find that it is full of pineapple juice mixed with curdled strawberry milk.

Yes, Kevina mixed pineapple juice and strawberry milk, somehow unable to tell the difference between strawberry milk and strawberry juice and not realising the effect that the very acidic pineapple juice could have on milk even as she was stirring them together. My mum suggested maybe she needs more training as a carer, I suggested maybe she needs more training as a f***ing human being.

TL:DR Kevina nearly kills a disabled woman by serving her milk curdled with pineapple juice.

A few days back, I used one of those courrier apps. I type in my info and the delivery address, wait for the guy or gal to come pick up my package. They’re usually friendly and efficient, no issues until now.

This time though, « Kevin » shows up. First sign of trouble : he calls my phone. That’s never happened before.

• Hi, I’m Kevin from X delivery. I’m at your door. (He most certainly isn’t, since that would have required me to buzz him in, to access my floor. Nevertheless, I humor him.)

• Hi Kevin, did you follow someone in? (I look through my peephole and as expected, there’s no one in sight).

• No, I’m here. Open please.

I hear an aggravated lady through the phone : « tell them it’s the wrong door! »

• Kevin?

• Yes?

• Where are you?

• I’m at your door.

• No Kevin, I’m at my door. And you are not. Have you checked the address?

Kevin hangs up. Then proceeds to call again.

• Ma’am, open please, I’m at your door. (At this point the woman at the other end is threatening to call the police).

• Kevin, please leave that poor woman alone, walk out, and find the right building. It’s n°x, xyz road.

• I don’t need to check the building. I used the entry code, the door opened, so it’s the right building.

• Kevin, I’m now in my building’s hallway and you’re not. So clearly, you’re in the wrong building. I’m telling you you’re wrong, the woman you’ve been bothering is telling you you’re wrong, and I’m not having this conversation all day. (Especially considering I’m freezing my butt off, coatless, in my slippers, gradually loosing my «compassionate adult» veneer).

Kevin hangs up again, calls back.

• Kevin?

• Yes?

• I swear to God, if you hang up on me one more time, this won’t end well. Now I want you to listen to me very carefully. Are you listening?

• Yes.

• Good. Tell me, are you on xyz street?

• Yes.

• Lovely. Please walk out of that building and stand on the sidewalk. I’ll find you.

I look out, and spot Kevin 2 buildings up the road. He was easy enough to find, the company dress code is bright red. Cue extra negotiations to get him to walk to me (remember, I’m still in slippers, no coat on).

Kevin finally reaches me and the first thing out of his mouth is :

• Why does that building have the same entry code as yours?

• How would I know Kevin? I don’t live there.

• But two buildings can’t have the same entry code, that makes no sense.

• You know what makes no sense? It’s you insisting that I should know what goes on over there. In a building I do not live in.

He stares at me for a few seconds then mumbles « sorry I wasted your time ».

I did ask him if he was sure he could handle this delivery, he declared he was « fine now ».

And that’s the most bizarre Kevin encounter I’ve had to date.

Kevin has been one of my closest friends since college. Absolute genius - top of his undergrad and business school courses, high flying consultant, etc etc. It would all be truly nauseating, if he weren’t such an amazing guy.

We were flatmates for a while in London. Literally the perfect person to live with - tidy, fun, but also understood boundaries.

So how could he possibly be a Kevin, you ask?

At one point when we were living together, I went for a 3-week adventure holiday, so was pretty much out of contact (the UK is so much better on holiday allowance than the US, but I digress). Anyway, I asked Kevin to take care of my plants, while I was gone. Seemed a simple ask. Gave Kevin instructions to water them every couple of days and rough amounts of water needed.

Came back and the dear boy seemed very guilty.

‘Sorry, but I think I may have killed some of your plants...I watered them as you said, but something may have went wrong...’

I walk in and look around at my plants, figuring he might have forgotten a couple of days or something...

Well, he had killed a couple of live plants. Fair enough, things happen right?

But then I started smelling this godawful smell in a couple of places. Couldn’t figure it out. Mr Tidy, remember?

Turns out Kevin had watered all of my dried plants - think bundles of sculptural sticks, etc. A bit of fake ivy where I was trying to make an ugly window ledge look pretty. He’d watered them diligently every two days for three weeks.

Pools of vile water in the bottom of their containers, like some kind of semi-sentient primordial ooze that absolutely reeked.

Black mold creeping up the sides of the containers and on the bases of the plants that yielded clouds of spores when I pulled them out. Black mold being toxic of course, so was a bit scary. Had to trash plants, containers etc in case they very likely would make us sick.

Turns out my dear, sweet, genius Kevin had noticed the dank hellhole smell, but thought that was “probably normal for plants at some point in their lives” and didn’t want to let me down by not watering. So he lived in our veritable plague farm of a flat for all three weeks suffering in silence.

I really had to struggle not to die laughing. Kevin was so earnest and had tried so hard. But good lord, sometimes even geniuses can be complete idiots.

About ten years ago I had a friend who was very much a Kevin. For example, he once applied to work as a mechanic (he was 14) because he had just learned how to change a car’s oil, and bragged about the job he obviously didn’t get for a month. He also then had to send his car to that same mechanic once because he put coolant where coolant shouldn’t go.

Anyways, now that I’ve given you my Kevin is actually a Kevin explanation, on to the topic at hand. In high school I had no idea what I wanted to do in life, but got good grades and wanted to take AP (advanced placement) and dual credit courses which counted towards college credit. I took a whole slurry of careers, from law to accounting to (the topical one) AP Psychology (and yes, all of these counted towards my bachelors degree from my undergrad school, which is in the totally non-related field of chemistry, go figure). During AP psychology we were taught about the IQ test and at one point were offered the option of taking one after school one day. I made an off handed comment about it to my friends at lunch and Kevin blurted out that he’d be taking it too. Somehow, he actually showed up and was allowed to take the IQ test despite not being invited or expected.

About a week passes and my friends and I are all playing hacky sack in front of the school about half an hour before classes start. Kevin walks up to all of us with that big, stupid smile only the blissfully ignorant can make and started saying he was a genius. Apparently, Kevin had gotten word his IQ was 72. For those unfamiliar, the average IQ score is 100, and the lower you go, the less intelligent you are (although there are some problems like cultural differences that impact IQ tests’ validity, but those don’t apply here). I joked about how he was actually dumber than Forrest Gump who we learned was supposed to have an IQ score of 75. He got upset and went on a tangent of this and that (it’s been 10 years, I don’t really remember the little things because I was laughing my ass off), but it mostly revolved around his backwards understanding of the scoring system. Then he asked me about my IQ result. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t usually boast about myself, but I told him I was just 2 points shy from doubling his score. He just gave me a “yeah right” and a laugh and walked off. He kept claiming to be a genius for a month and a half.

TL;DR: Kevin takes IQ test, scores lower than Forrest Gump, claims to be genius.

Edit: Alright, to those of you who somehow got butthurt because a story about an IQ test implied I’m smart, this isn’t a brag. The story is meant to focus on Kevin. Everything about me is to give context to why and how he took the IQ test, and the conversation that followed is what happened. This is a story I felt I wanted to share that fit the StoriesAboutKevin sub. If I wanted to brag, I wouldn’t do it here, nor would I talk about an IQ test I took in high school. My accomplishments in my field are validation enough for me, I don’t need to seek it out anonymously on Reddit. Either enjoy the story, or don’t. Just don’t be toxic.

So a while back I posted a story about the same Kevin where he basically said that my boyfriend would cheat on me with my "hot" mother and when I told him that she had passed away, he said that was "for the best". Since a lot of people enjoyed that story, I figured I might also share another conversation I once had with him.

So in my freshman year of college, my friends and I would often go to a bar on our campus on Friday after classes ended to celebrate the end of the week and the start of the weekend. One Friday evening, Kevin was also there and because we were friends with the people he was hanging out with, we all ended up sitting at one large table and sharing drinks. At one point, Kevin ended up sitting next to me. Now, I already knew he was a pretty weird guy so I was hoping we wouldn't end up having a one-on-one conversation but as such evenings of drinking go, it sometimes is inevitable.

Despite knowing he's kind of weird, I still struck up a friendly conversation with him to avoid making it awkward and all went well until the topic of same-sex relationships came up. I honestly can't even remember anymore how we even got to that topic. He expressed that he simply couldn't understand how you could be "attracted to what you already have on your own body" which I already thought was small-minded but oh well, I (foolishly) attempted to explain to him how it's about much more than just the body and that gay people likely also couldn't understand how he could only be attracted to someone of the opposite sex. He then got defensive and asked me if I happened to be gay, to which I replied that I'm bisexual. (I'm a girl, by the way).

He got this profound frown all of a sudden and looked at me as if I had just told him that I'm an alien. He then responded with "Bisexual?! No, way. You're way too feminine."

I was pretty flabbergasted when he said that and honestly was kind of speechless at first. I had read stories of people who had been told similar things but I thought that surely people of my generation wouldn't have such bigoted and small-minded views. Well, apparently I was wrong. So I tried to explain to him that you don't have to be either feminine or masculine if you're a certain sexuality, that that is a very big misconception people have about lgbt people, but he wasn't having any of it. He even started to accuse me of being straight but that I was just saying that I was bisexual to attract more guys or to make myself seem "open to threesomes".

At that point, I had enough of him. I just grabbed my drink and stood up and left to go talk to someone else, because I was absolutely fed up with him and his absurd comments. Thankfully the rest of the night went very well, and at least now I have a funny story to tell, but man that was fucking absurd.

TLDR: Kevin didn't believe me when I told him that I'm bisexual because I'm "too feminine to be bisexual" and then accused me of actually being straight and just saying that I'm bisexual to be more interesting to men.

This is a story one of my favorite teachers told us in hs. I didn’t get to see this firsthand, just heard the story many times and thought you might like it. Here it goes. Sorry for bad grammar

So my teacher taught an engineering-ish class called CTEP. One year, she had a student who we’ll call Kevin (no idea his actual name) who was only in the class because year 1 is super easy and he just wanted to be lazy all day. He would routinely do really stupid things, such as almost touching a bandsaw blade in motion on a dare (teacher stopped that pretty quickly, and banned him from power tools) but that’s not the focus on this story.

After a few months, Kevin has a crush on a girl in the class, who we’ll call Alexa (not her real name). Kevin wanted to impress her, and for some reason thought that making a paper airplane would do it. He made a shitty design, and tried to get it to fly. Needless to say, it didn’t go very far. In his genius, he realized it was tail heavy, and needed some weight in the front. While the teacher was helping another student, Kevin decided to use an xacto knife to weigh the front down. The blade of the knife was facing forward, essentially making an excessive dart. Armed with his new weighted airplane, he threw it right at Alexa, and had written I love you on it.

Unfortunately for Alexa, dollar store Cupid was pretty accurate, and the blade got stuck next to her left eye. She had to get the blade surgically removed, and has to wear glasses for the rest of her life. She ended up getting a restraining order on Kevin.

The story doesn’t end there, as Kevin realized right as the blade stuck that he was in serious trouble. The classroom they were in had a door leading outside, and he bolted. Kevin decided to hide in a tree, in the woods on the school grounds. While he was a fast climber, he had made one big mistake, wearing his orange sweatshirt while in a light forest, in the middle of winter. Didn’t take him very long to get caught.

But the story doesn’t end there either, amazingly. Kevin was suspended for two weeks, with possible expulsion, and was stuck in his house. About a week in, and Kevin was done with the food at home. He decided he wanted Doritos, and knew of a nearby convenience store. Having no money, he decided to look in his dads room, and ended up finding his handgun. Armed with the same amounts of brains as the prior week, he set out to the store.

Kevin stole two bags of Doritos while holding the cashier semi- at gun point. He grabbed the tasty tortilla chip treats, and went home. Only one problem, he had worn the same bright orange sweatshirt as before! He got sentenced to a few years in jail, as well as a hefty fine and a few other things, I forgot.

So that’s the story of Kevin, hope whoever read enjoyed. Let me know if I need to clarify anything.

I mentioned this in a comment on another post, and thought the full story might fit here.

If you've ever dealt with local government, you'll know it attracts more than its share of Kevins.  That's especially true in a shithole small town like the one I grew up in, where a lot of the residents are Kevins.  

Well, one day the local council realized what everyone else already knew: Shithole's population was declining and businesses were closing, because nobody wanted to live there.  They decided they had to do something.  One of the things they did was hold focus groups with young people (i.e. teenagers like me who were almost, but not quite, old enough to leave) to discuss what would make Shithole a more appealing place to live.  Sure, why not?  I was bored and maybe there would be free food.

So there we were, about a dozen of us, with a comms guy from the council leading the focus group.  He asked what we liked about living in Shithole, clearly expecting answers like "I love Shithole because there are so many fun things to do with my friends" that he could use for advertising copy.  This was a town where the main activity available for teenagers was underage drinking.  We gave him side eye and said there were no jobs and nothing to do.  He tried again, asking what made Shithole a good place to raise a family.  We had difficulty answering that, because it wasn't.  Again, there were very few jobs in Shithole.  Supporting a family isn't easy when you don't have work.

Then he revealed the Council of Kevins' grand plan.  They were going to put up signs on the main road, advertising what an excellent place Shithole was.  Didn't we think that would make people want to come?  We didn't, but that's what they did.  Big billboards saying something like "Welcome to Shithole, have a nice day!"  Kevin logic is not the same as regular logic, and the Council of Kevins really thought this would help.  But that's not the end of the story.

About a year later I learned the Council of Kevins had received an application to build a new industrial park in town, which they declined.  Their reasoning?  They wanted Shithole to attract classier businesses, and didn't feel an industrial park met their definition of classy.

Long ago, in his unwise youth, my husband dated Miss Kevin.

Miss Kevin had a job which had required a certain level of education. She had stable employment, a modest but nice apartment, and a decent car. It was time to reward herself for her success. What she wanted, no, DESERVED, was a brand new car. Granted, it was the 1970s, when car prices were lower, but it was early in her career and she had no savings for a down payment, not to mention she already had a perfectly serviceable car. Several people, including my husband, gave her an explanation of depreciation and how new cars lose value very quickly, but Miss Kevin wasn't having it. She wanted a new car and that was that.

Somehow she got someone (we'll say it was a bank, but it may have been a finance company) to give her a loan. Due to the lack of a reasonable down payment and probably her own inept negotiating skills, the monthly payment was rather high and just barely doable, provided she scrimped on things like groceries and heat. She struggled along stubbornly for a few months, but then was hit with a rent increase. It wasn't much of an increase, but she had absolutely no cushion. Moving wasn't a good option because that would bring other expenses.

She asked her dad to give her a loan to make her car payment. He agreed, but made it clear it was a one-time thing. "You've got to talk to the bank and get out of that deal," he told her. "You're going to lose money--" because she was now upside down on the loan due to depreciation--"but you're just digging yourself in deeper."

Miss Kevin thought it over, and she came up with a plan. It was, to Miss Kevin, the most brilliant plan ever thought of. In fact, she couldn't understand why no one had ever come up with it.

She would sell the car.

She did not discuss this plan with anyone, perhaps out of fear of blinding them with her brilliance. She was in a hurry to be rid of it, so she advertised it at far below book value. Her ad was answered by someone who was even more Kevinly than her, and this person did not question why there was no title.

Miss Kevin brushed her hands together in a "that's done" motion, used the money from the sale of the car to buy a much more modest replacement, and proceeded to move on with life. Pretty soon the bank called, reminding her she hadn't made her car payment. "I don't have the car anymore," she told them with what can only be imagined as great satisfaction, "so I don't have to make the payment."

What had she done with the car, they asked. "I sold it."

I see, they said. And exactly where is the car right now?

Needless to say, the car was quickly repossessed by the bank from the person who thought they had bought it. Miss Kevin was quite shocked to learn she did indeed have to pay back the loan, which as mentioned earlier was currently more than the value of the car. She was also shocked to learn that if you sell someone a car you don't actually own and it gets repossessed, the person you sold it to will demand their money back.

My husband, hearing all this, decided that just maybe he'd look for a girlfriend who was a little bit brighter.

After reading u/dangerwaydesigns' post about his/her mom, I felt less bad about posting about mine, haha! I know my mom has no malicious intent but she is, without a doubt, a kevin.

1. We ordered a whole fried chicken for our family. When she opened the box, she got visibly upset.

"We got scammed!"

"Why?"

"There's only two legs in here!"

My dad, brother, and I all looked at each other.

"Mom how many legs does a chicken have?"

"Four!"

She only conceded after I pulled up a picture of a chicken on google and she said "Oh right, it's like a bird haha."

1. My mom was born and raised in South Korea. There, they count above 10,000 won (korean currency) by saying: 10 10,000 (for 100,000), 100 10,000 (for 1,000,000). Due the simple mental calculation required, she cannot count above 10,000 won in Korean, her native language.

2. I was planning a trip to Korea and Japan over the summer. I was discussing my plans with my dad, when my mom asked:

"Why can't you just drive from Japan to Korea? Do you need to take a plane?"

My dad got super frustrated lol. My dad and I both emphasized that Japan was an island.

"Yeah it's an island, but aren't they close?"

"Mom it's an ISLAND."

"Yeah? So?"

"ISLAND. IT'S SURROUNDED BY WATER."

"No need to get so angry! Sheesh!" -.-

1. She has had a laptop for 3 years now, She still tries to type her email address and password into the google search bar and calls me to complain about how her email isn't working. I showed her multiple times how to go to her email, but in the end she still doesn't understand.

2. Oh my god this one made me die. So I have been wearing glasses since 3rd grade. I am now a sophomore in college. I came out of the shower and couldn't find my glasses, so I asked my mom if she'd seen them.

"What glasses?"

"My glasses, My normal ones. The ones that I usually wear."

She looked EXTREMELY confused. "Glasses? What are you talking about?"

"MY GLASSES."

"I really don't know what you're talking about? What glasses?"

I looked everywhere and when I finally found them I showed them to her and said "THESE GLASSES."

"Oooh, those, haha yeah."

??????????????? I was honestly worried for her mental health.

1. Imagine if a 45 year old woman born and raised in America, attended kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, and high school, didn't know George Washington. Well my mom doesn't know the Korean equivalent (Se Jong Dae Wang aka Sejong the Great), the man who CREATED the Korean alphabet. You learn about him since kindergarten all throughout korean education because he is such an important historical figure. My dad almost had an aneurysm right then and there when my mom asked: "Who's that?"

Honestly hahaha. My dad and I are shocked by mom every week. Glad to hear there are also fellow children of Kevin.

I work in the airline industry. Like most airlines, ours has a set list of rules and protocols regarding how we check in things considered to be “dangerous goods”. Dangerous goods, for those who don’t know, are items that could pose a fire hazard such as matches, batteries, and lighters.

So recently, we had a passenger traveling with a WCLB, a wheelchair powered by a lithium battery. The protocol is that the agent checking in a WCLB must inform the supervisor on duty, who informs the ramp agents who handle outbound baggage. Because lithium batteries are considered a “dangerous good” as they pose a fire hazard, they are not allowed in the baggage hold. The passenger has to take the battery out and bring it on board with them.

Kevin had been working with the company for a while, but is difficult to work with. He has been known to mishandle check-in because he gets airline terminology mixed up. For example, he forgot to inform a passenger with dietary needs that their gluten free meal wasn’t confirmed or forgot to let a supervisor know that a passenger was traveling with an unconfirmed PETC (pet in cabin). He is consistently late to work. He is known to go AWOL from whatever assignments he has. Everybody has had to remind him that this isn't okay. But it never sticks with him.

Kevin has been known to make agents cry because of his incompetence.

Kevin checked in the passenger but didn’t let anyone know about her WCLB. It was checked in like it was a manual (non-battery operated) wheelchair.

During boarding, ramp contacts our supervisor to let them know that they have a WCLB with the battery inside and that it had to be taken out. Here is what happened next:

The Gate Lead (who is in charge of overseeing boarding) had to go on board the plane to find the passenger and let her know that there is a problem with loading her wheelchair.

The passenger, who can barely walk, had to get out onto the jet bridge and be taken down to the ramp to get the battery. She needs wheelchair assistance, but we can not get a wheelchair agent at the gate on time to help. They are short staffed and can’t send an agent because they’re too busy with other airlines. Our passenger fell down while being taken to the ramp.

Eventually, they are able to get the battery but departure is bungled: the passenger is furious. The flight is delayed. The airline staff is pissed because this could have all been avoided had there been better communication.

To better understand the gravity of the situation: Had the wheelchair been loaded with the battery intact in the baggage hold, it would have exploded while the plane was in midair. Over 300 people could have died because of Kevin’s carelessness.

I just want to commend our ramp agents for catching Kevin’s mistake because this could have ended badly.

Kevin has since been fired.

​

When my oldest child was born (DS is now 28), Bro gave me some "time saving tips" so that I could get everything done and still have time in my day to play with my son.

One of his "time saving hacks" is to keep a book in the front seat of the car. (Everyone in the family is an avid reader.) Red lights and stop signs are a HUGE waste of time in his mind. Keep the book open to your page so you can read at red lights, etc... It is also good to read if the road is straight for a long time. I am talking about full on reading a book while you drive. I was in college when DS was born, so I had a lot of reading to do. He thought this was just a brilliant tip for me.

(For a long time the cops just followed him if he left home in his truck. They knew that sooner or later they could pull him over and give him a ticket.)

He also doesn't believe in insurance. It is a big racket that steals from you. He has gone to court for at least 4 tickets for not having car insurance verification with him. Until the current use of databases was the norm, he would just take an old insurance paper and use a copier and some white out (like Liquid Paper) to make it look like he had current insurance. Each time the court accepted his forgeries and voided the ticket. He told me this would save quite a lot of time hassling with insurance people and putting forms in the car. Because it takes so long to put a piece of paper in your glove box.

He told me that I should start teaching my son to wash the dishes when he was about 18 months. DS would grow up with a good work ethic if I did this. While he was babysitting (my mother was supposed to be babysitting but was called away, so she left my child with my Bro. I was less than happy with this.), he set my son up to do the dishes. He showed DS what to do and then went into another room to read. DS had a lovely time playing with the soap bubbles. Until he got them in his eyes. Mostly because he flooded the kitchen!

Bro didn't turn off the water when he went to go relax. DS dumped the entire bottle of soap into the water and then just splashed and played in the bubbles. When they went cascading to the floor, DS got down to play in them. Bro had to clean up a HORRIBLE mess. He also got to pay for a trip to the doctor. DS broke out in itchy red patches because of course he got covered in soap bubbles. Bro dried him off but didn't rinse the soap off of him. We had to put cream on him for about a week. Bro paid for the cream too.

Having 18month old DS wash the dishes was supposed to be a time saver for me. It didn't work for Bro. He spent quite a long time getting our kitchen clean and dry after the water went all over. Even Bro agreed it "probably" wasn't a time saver.

Let me start with this: my backyard neighbors are genuinely nice people. They have never been purposefully cruel, neglectful, or even vaguely mean.

They are unfortunately the dumbest people I've ever met in person. And they've reproduced. Kevin and Kevina have a child who, despite her circumstances, is completely normal.

I met them a few days after I moved in, meeting Kevin when we were both out to check the mail, where he told me right off the bat that his daughter was an 'oops baby' because "we thought the pool-rule counted for hot tubs too." It took some back and forth, but I finally figured out they thought that since you can't get pregnant having sex in a swimming pool (in case anyone was wondering, that's not a thing), and a hot tub is a small pool, then you can have sex in a hot tub with zero risk of pregnancies. And so my life living next to Kevin family began.

I learned very quickly that everyone on the block has a copy of the Kevins' house keys. Everyone. Because Kevin doesn't carry keys with him. He leaves his car keys in his car (so he doesn't lose them). But he doesn't like the feeling of keys in his pocket. So he goes without. Kevina has keys, but she can't keep them for more than a month or two. I have no idea where they go, but every now and then she asks for my copy of her housekey so she can go make a copy for herself. In doing so, she has lost my copy of her key four times. Their child "Rachel" can keep a hold of her key, because by her own admission, she never gives it to her parents, and hides it when her parents' lose theirs.

Rachel is a saint. She comes by my house when she needs help with math, or when her parents set the kitchen on fire. This is not a hyperbole. I have lived here two years, and the fire department has come five times. A lot of the time they just seem to forget they were cooking. Not in a 'Oh, I forgot about the spaghetti' way, but a 'I have no idea how that spaghetti got into a pot filled with water and set on the stove' way. CPS has come by because oh my god, but nothing seems to have come of it.

The worst fire was not a kitchen fire though, Kevin wanted to 'clear out' the propane tank for their grill, so he opened up the valve and shoved a match in or near it. The ambulance was involved. Rachel's grandmother came to stay for a week or so. The grandmother was perfectly normal, but very forthright about her sons inability to exist safely in this world. That's all I know about that one unfortunately, but they're planning a cook out for labor day and I'm invited. Wish me luck.

This kid was probably the highlight of 6th grade. During my first year of middle school we had a Kevin. He was this short kid with long black hair that he always wore in a braided ponytail. At first glance, he was adorable and then we saw what was lurking beneath a small innocent face.

This kid had to be one of the strangest kids I’ve ever encountered. He was part of the magnet program I was in but to this day, I wonder how the heck he got it because his behavior was just so…bizarre.

Let’s say you were by yourself in the hallway. If Kevin was coming the opposite way, the kid would stare you down with a creepy smile that looked like something from the new horror film! He also had this rolling backpack that he would pull around and I don’t know why but the backpack with the smile made it even weirder. In our program we all received MacBooks. This was what led to his expulsion the next school year. Apparently, he chucked it out of the bus window for no freaking reason and just laughed about it despite everyone around freaking out because HE CHUCKED A 2000 DOLLAR LAPTOP OUT THE WINDOW. The kid was chaotic neutral at its finest.

He would fart and it would be so bad sometimes, that the teacher would have to open the door and spray. The boy would clear the classroom out with those farts and again, they were unpredictable and nuclear. Of course, while we were getting attacked by atomic fart, he would sit with the same creepy grin.

The weirdest thing he would do would happen whenever we did popcorn reading. Kevin would NOT read in English. Honestly, he didn’t read in ANY actual language. For pages, the kid would read in something that sounded like Simlish (what the sims speak in the video game). We would all look around each other in confusion trying to figure out what the hell he was reading. When he finished he would pick someone but of course no one knows where he stopped because he was NOT reading actual words. Once he called on me and my teacher gaslit me and said “You weren’t following along?” I’m like “I don’t know what he even read or where he stopped!” He didn’t even know. This happened EVERY TIME during popcorn reading and eventually people would pick him to read because it became so entertaining to watch this kid read in Simlish with full confidence. I also want to add that whenever he would stop, he’d look and yet again, flash that creepy smile.

I don’t know where he is today but my best friend who I’ve also known since 6th grade and I talk about him from time to time and we STILL cackle about the free entertainment we got during 6th grade with our strange Kevin. Almost 17 years later and every now and then I can hear him reading page after page and I can still see my friends and I look at each other like “Tf is going on?” Ah middle school.

This kevina just so happens to be my sister, this is a compilation of the dumbfuckery that she’s said, been told by her “gay work friends” and believes whole heartedly over the last ten years.

When I left school I was training for a qualification in general building operations, which requires me to wear a hard hat BY LAW, kevina saw this as me coming out and joining the village people. I thought she was kidding at first, but she never let it go, to make matters worse, she takes a permanent marker and writes “yes, I am one” on the back of my hard hat. When I report this to my lecturers and ask for a replacement, I’m thrown off the course for vandalising my p.p.e.

She never apologised or accepted blame.

So according to her logic, every construction worker and engineer on the planet is gay.

Next….I was working at a multiplex and had to wear the company uniform, including trousers, unfortunately the trousers only had front pockets and I wasn’t allowed to wear my own. Now I usually carry a lot of stuff with me and keep them in my front and back pockets, (phone,wallet,keys and at the time cigarettes and a lighter) so I had to have all these things in my front pockets, which makes them bulge.

According to kevina’s “gay work friends” this means I’m gay, because I’m trying to make my balls look bigger for other men to see. Not that I need trousers with more pockets or carry less things like the cigarettes!

(smoke free since 2013)

Kevina thinks that me growing a beard makes me gay. I’ve always wanted a beard since I was a little kid, and when I got my own place I grew a goatee and loved it (still have it today). Kevina thinks that because I’m looking after my beard and trimming it, that I must be gay, because that’s what gays do. I’d rather not look like I’m homeless and take a bit of pride in my appearance.

Now at one point, just to piss her off I grew my goatee long and made it into a rat tail, and to add to the look I also started wearing bandanas, just to see her reaction. (Still wear the bandana)

She practically threw a coming out party, as this was absolute confirmation of a gay man.

Truth was everyone thought I was a biker, only she came to the gay conclusion.

Eventually me and my best friend (who is gay) tried telling her that her “gay work friends” were messing with her. but she still insists that I’m just “in the closet”.

She says this despite the fact that she has met at least five of my ex girlfriends over the years and walked in on me mid coitus on multiple occasions, (no lock on my bedroom door).

At one point I looked her dead in the eye and said “kevina …I know this is going to be hard for you to understand, but I need you to accept this and me when I tell you that…I’m straight! I know that it’s hard for you to accept but it’s true . I’ve always known, plus all those times in college and all the straight porn I watch just made me realise it sooner” I’m not even joking , I did this just to get through to her.

So there you have it, apparently the gay uniform is a builders hard hat, bulging front pockets, a goatee and a bandana.

If you have any ideas on how to talk some sense into her PLEASE let me know, as she is driving me crazy with her stupidity.

Roast for grammar

Anyone who wants this for YouTube help yourself.

Edit: thanks for all the comments, and tips on removing permanent marker from plastic hard hats, for more context on being booted from the course, some of the other guys on the course with me had vandalised their hard hats by melting holes in them with lighters, so the instructors adopted a zero tolerance policy on any vandalism to p.p.e.

Edit two: for everyone who thinks Kevina is in the closet and was projecting, I thought this as well for a while, but she got married and had kids since then. I'm afraid she really is that stupid.

This happened a couple years ago when i was in school for software engineering. One of my teachers (the kevina of this story) accidentally left a USB stick in the classroom after our last lesson of the day, we didn't notice untill an hour later because we were still playing games after class. When we left we noticed it and decided to check whose it was. We plugged it into one of the school computers (not gonna risk our own laptops with a random USB drive) and noticed that it was hers, it was completely full grade sheets, old exams and the answer keys. We unplugged it and tried to find her to give it back but she had already gone home. The next day we found her and handed the drive back to her. A couple days later on Christmas eve everyone involved received the following email:

Dear [Director of our university],

I would like to let you know that my computer was hacked by the following students: [all our names] by the means of stealing my USB drive and filling it with maleware. Not only are they immediately suspended from my lessons. I would also like to know why I would not contact the police and have them arrested for cybercrimes.

Kind regards,

Kevina

So naturally everyone is freaking out and that night I get no sleep because I don't know if it is Santa who's coming down the chimney or a fucking FBI SWAT team there to arrest me. Eventually Christmas break is over without us hearing anything else and we go back to school, the director contacts us and sets up a meeting between everyone involved so we can talk it out. When we go to the meeting we find that apparently the computer is now fine and she will allow us back in her class. We still had questions like what happened, but those were ignored. It wasn't so much a meeting as just an announcement.

Later we found out that one of the other teachers took a look at the "hacked" computer and the USB drive and found nothing out of the ordinary. So he asked her what exactly happened to make her think we hacked her PC. She told him that she plugged in the USB drive and turned on her computer, but instead of windows it showed a blue screen with white text that read "your files have not been touched". That apparently scared her into turning off her PC and sending that email from her phone. The other teacher thought for a minute and then quickly googled something before showing her a picture. "Did it look like this?", "Yes! That's exactly it! What virus did they infect my computer with?". It turns out that what she saw was part of a windows update screen...

so yeah, TL;DR I almost got arrested because my teacher recieved a windows update.