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This is a question My Biggest Disappointment

Often the things we look forward to the most turn out to be a huge let down. As Freddy Woo puts it, "High heels in bed? No fun at all. Porn has a lot to answer for."

Well, Freddy, you are supposed to get someone else to wear them.

What's disappointed you lot?
null points for 'This QOTW'

(, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:15)
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This question is now closed.

Flavoured condoms
ooh two in a row, I'm on a roll.

They don't taste good and even if they did, why would anyone be licking them?

I don't understand the point behind them at all.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 16:27, 6 replies)
Boyfriend: "Here, watch this boxset, it's great."
*intense watching in one sitting*
Me: "oooh, shiny!"
Boyfriend: "Enjoy it, they didn't make any more."

Oh cruel fate why do you mock me?!
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 16:00, 10 replies)
Holiday... (beware, not funny!)
We have been making holiday plans for long and we really needed the break from our busy jobs. At the end of May mrs. Doxy, Little Doxy and brother in law (from now BiL), SiL (you get it?) and their little daughter went to a rented house in France.

Once arrived, the atmosphere was not really hollidayish. It turned out that Sil told Bil on the (long) way to the cottage that after 6 years of marriage and a little daughter of 3 she felt not right about the direction her life was going.

It went downhill very fast and deep after a few days when he disovered that she was seeing someone on the side. He read a few saucy texts in her mobile. Cue much swearing, a window got broken and he drove back home at insane speed, leaving Sil and their daughter with us.

The next few days consisted of comforting Sil, Bil (over the mobile phone), playing referee in their lenghty discussions over the phone, making plans for the trip home (a week early) and babysitting the little Doxy (for him no single care in the world) and the little daughter of the inlaws. (knew instinctively that something was wrong, so her mood was fragile.)

Anyway, that was our holiday this year.

Now there is a messy divorce going on , including bona fide suicide attempt. But that will be one for another QOTW

Oh, and the weather? Shitty. In one and a half week two days without constant rain.

Length? Had been lurking for four years now.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 15:53, 4 replies)
Possibly not my biggest ever disappointment, but I still feel the sadness
When I was a lad, the Saturday trip down to the post office to spend pocket money on sweets was quite an event. It was all proper, with glass jars full of sweets, and you'd ask for a quarter of what you wanted, and they'd be weighed out and put in a little white paper bag for you.

Somehow this added a certain something that the pre-packaged sweets like Spangles or Sherbet Fountains - nice though they were - just didn't have. It made it a bit special.

The Post Office stocked all the usual 1970s candidates - Cola Bottles, Flying Saucers, Aniseed Balls, Black Bullets, all that stuff, but my very favourite was the Kola Kube. If you don't recall them, they were about the size of a sugar cube, tasting vaguely like Coca Cola, and with a sort of soft centre that you got to if you managed to crack your way through the hard shell without cracking too many of your teeth in the process.

I loved them.

Now, this day of disappointment had started quite promisingly, because I was lucky enough to have a bit more than my usual 40p pocket money. I'm not sure how I managed this, but I think I may have had as much as a whole pound, which was quite something when you were seven years old.

And I resolved that I would celebrate this by having a double ration of my favourite Kola Kubes.

One slight problem: when asking for sweets, you always asked for "A Quarter" of them. Trouble was, I didn't know what it was a quarter *of*. Hmm. Well, I knew enough to know that two quarters make a half, so I went boldly up to the counter and brightly asked for "A half of Kola Kubes, please".

The Postmistress peered at me doubtfully over the counter.

"Do you mean 'Two Ounces'?"

Did I? Damned if I knew. But grown-ups know things like this, don't they?

"Yes, please".

Thirty years later, I can still feel the disappointment of standing outside that post office, peering sadly at my celebratory bag containing just three Kola Kubes. It wasn't quite the bumper bonanza I'd been hoping for, and I was much too shy to go back in and demand what I'd wanted.

There have been other, bigger disappointments since to be sure, but it looks like this one is going to stay with me. And to this day I have a distrust of Postmistresses.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 15:41, 8 replies)
Still not heard about how my job interview went
I'm building up for some disappointment, but I really hope I get it :(
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 15:29, 1 reply)
The first time I saw one, I thought 'Why would I possibly want to put my willy in THAT?'

It's not stopped me from doing so, but the fact is that human genitalia is not really that attractive, is it?
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 15:20, 51 replies)
the Olympic games...
is (will be) a celebration of international athletic achievement. Which is why the BBC (or ITV, whatever) will fill their coverage with inteviews with British athletes, tedious background pieces featuring British presenters, replays of British athletes doing moderately well, and commentators talking to camera.

I just want to see running/ jumping/ swimming etc.

I am deeply disappointed -- I would much prefer to have seen a Brazilian archer make 5th place than 90% of the worthless "British audience" filler they show.

Note: I apologise for the causality leak.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 15:20, 3 replies)
Anglia TV
When I was a kid, I used regularly to be caught out by the Daily Express TV page.

1pm, Sunday - Thunderbirds! Brilliant! Fireflash! Crab Logger! Some Other Huge Vehicle With Too Many Tyres To Steer Properly! Explosions! Daring Rescues! Collapsible Trees!

Tune in, watch the last bits of the News, sit through the adverts, and... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

Farming Diary.

Farming Bloody Diary.

The Express used to just print a single edition with the London programs displayed prominently, and at the bottom of the page, in 4 point type, was a section called "Regional Variations". And yea, as always, no Thunderbirds but instead Farming Bloody Diary.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 15:06, 6 replies)
My Biggest Disappointment
Fancied this guy something rotten.
We danced around each other for a very long time.
I was playing the " I'm going to be demure and you must court me role'
When actually I wanted to grab him and drag him off to be debauched.
Finally, at last at a party he flirted, I responded.
After a few drinks I (ahem) allowed him to lead me to a quiet room.
I caressed his head for that first kiss and waited for the soft touch of his lips
He slobbered all over my face, drool was actually dribbling down my chin.
Ok, so he isnt a good kisser, turns my head away and hopes things can only get better.
Less than 2 minutes of him flopping around on me like a dying fish.
Rolling off, breaking wind and saying 'Ta mate that was great'
8 months of my life wasted waiting for that moment.
Another 4 months of ignoring his calls and requests for another date.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 15:01, 2 replies)
Sorry: long and self-indulgent.
"Gosh" exclaimed Gunter, "I couldn't possibly".

"But you must" they chimed harmoniously "you simply must, it just wouldn't be the same without you".

"But, you just don't understand..." Gunter tried to protest before cutting himself off. If he couldn't believe his own argument how could he possibly hope they would. He offered it anyway, but he knew it was weak and they knew he was going with them.

And so it was amidst a heady mix of excitement and anticipation that the gang clambered aboard their trusty chariot and waved merrily to the Hertfordshire boundary as they sped past it on route to the South West.

The sun stretched and yawned and raised itself from the previous nights' rest, and the first evidence of their destination presented itself to the weary, happy campers. They'd driven through the night, pausing only briefly to fill up their surprisingly swift, but unmistakeably tatty Fiesta, and to top up the caffeine levels of their surprisingly tatty, but unmistakeably swift driver. After what seemed like an eternity, the car finally bounced unhappily through the empty field and each occupant questioned yet again whether the sign at the entrance really had said 'parking: £5'. Surely their collective sleep deprivation hadn't lead to a shared hallucination, and there was the vague memory of presenting a crumpled 'lady' to the crumpled gent on the gate. The sight of the solitary Golf sat in the distant corner soon reassured them and they abandoned the car alongside it and trudged back up to the main road.

"My word" Peter puffed as the tall fence loomed into view.

"Gee whiz" William agreed, "I shouldn't think I'd have the strength to scale that, not in a million years".

"I'm sure we'll find some assistance" hoped James. "There must be some kindly souls here about that could help us".

There were. For £5 a rope was proffered by a kindly Liverpudlian gentleman. They thanked him profusely, but continued their pursuit of an alternate option. One that would cost them less; at least £5 less. As they continued their circumference of the site they encountered numerous groups of terribly helpful and friendly chaps. Largely from Liverpool, each gentleman gestured toward a rope going over, or a hole snaking beneath the perimeter fence, and each one was willing to exchange its use for a small donation. Their persistence paid off, however, as free passage beyond the fence eventually became achievable, and as the last of them blew out a puff of air upon their impact with the soft ground, they felt themselves relax and finally able to take in the rare and unusual beauty that is the Glastonbury Festival.

It was 8 in the morning. The site was at its calmest as almost all the previous nights' revellers had finally taken themselves to bed leaving only a few dazed and confused stragglers; lost, frightened souls who wanted nothing less than to have their hangover exposed to the bright morning sun. For our four, however, the absence of sleep was immediately forgotten and they bounced merrily through the haphazard tents, eager to begin properly the adventure they'd spent hours jabbering excitedly about.

[There now follows a montage from the point of view of Gunter: the day flashes past in the familiar time-lapse style and the images become progressively blurred as the sun seeks solace behind the pyramid stage. Snippets of music interspersed with garbled speech, spat from increasingly gnarled and distorted grimaces offer a disorientating soundtrack. Eventually the underside of a van is briefly, if a little confusingly recognisable, before blackness descends over the screen and the gentle sound of light rain becomes the only sensory stimulant to remain].

"Where the fuck am I? What's crawled into my head and started punching my brain? And, ugh, what's that big face doing there? It's shouting at me. Now there are hands on me; what the fuck is going on here?" The snarling ape dragged me from my refuge beneath the van and continued making sounds. I didn't understand a word of it. I didn't really know where I was, and I definitely couldn't summon any words, so I just walked off and left him swinging his knuckles about the ground while squawking and bleating at the top of his voice.

The sun had risen, but its effect was dampened by the drizzle that just hung in the air and refused to finish its descent. It was 8 in the morning again and now I was one of those freaks, caught out by the early morning. Nowhere to hide from the brutality of my excesses and forced to stumble through the throngs of zombies, gripped by fear and loathing, my body in turmoil and my head wrecked and broken. I found conditions conducive to rolling a spliff by propping myself up against a wall and cowering beneath a small, plastic baby bath, but the cold air mixed with my soggy clothes and I had to keep moving in order to avoid freezing. I accidentally wandered into the path of my partners in crime and couldn't find the energy to berate them for not waking me (I soon discovered that they had no idea of my whereabouts after I'd staggered away before collapsing under the van) and we immediately decided not to prolong our agony, but to head straight out of the site and toward the shitty old Fiesta we'd arrived in just 24 hours earlier.

And here we reach the disappointment: that's the only time I've been to Glastonbury. Everyone I know who's ever been speaks so highly of it that it sounds like a beautiful and perfect dream. They have such fond memories and a constant desire to return that I can only imagine how it really must be there. My only memory is of waking up; tired, confused and in pain. Opening my eyes first to the sight of the van's undercarriage (stop sniggering at the back), then to the contorted, angry face of the man monkey who dragged me from my 'bed' and shouted incomprehensibly at me. And to know that it would now cost me 100 and something quid to experience that again... very disappointing.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:47, 1 reply)
ready to go
I was in a bit of a rush this morning sorting out minipickle etc so missed my morning poo.

Feeling the urge I tootled off for a little work-poo. This very rarely happens. I have a poo in the morning before leaving home and one before bedtime, regular as clockwork. However, like I said earlier I missed my usual morning session so had a poop during my lunchbreak.

3 little slugs!!! That was all. It felt like there was at least a gartersnake ready to be released and instead I get 3 crappy little slugs (by slugs I mean comparative size, not slimey)

I felt cheated by my rumbling bowels and had a little cry.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:46, 4 replies)
"The Baby Jesus Butt Plug"
It's the book I saw on display at Paddington Library. A thin volume just propped up on a stand for everyone to see. Naturally, I grabbed it.

...And it's really, really crap. Not even amusing, as I reasonably expected a book called "The Baby Jesus Butt Plug" would be. One of those OMG LOOK I'M SO RANDOM I'M WRITING ABOUT GETTING A BABY JESUS AND STICKING IT IN MY ARSE! In the world where the story takes place, baby Jesuses are bred and sold like kittens. Plus, there's a non-ironic spelling error on the first page - sloppy editing like that tells you there's nothing more to this book than the title.

The author looks a bit like Baldmonkey.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:43, Reply)
I caught had a poo once.. I went to see my GP.

Imagine my shock when I told me there was nothing wrong with me.
I promptly went home and did some googling and the internet told me that pooing is a symptom of clostridium difficile infection.

Go private whilst you can people.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:43, Reply)
My first car...

Was an Austin Allegro.

Now, that's bad enough, but the previous owner must've had a sense of humour on a quite biblical scale, because he had sported a massive transfer across the bonnet...

Of a 'firebird'...Oh yes, like a Trans-am...just on an Allegro...

I was 18...

There are no words...
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:39, 9 replies)
Here We Go
Quite a while back when I was starting up a new business venture I decided to help out a kid who looked a bit lost and needed some guidance . In exchange for a couple of odd jobs around the place I got him back on his feet, he was a totally different person.

Anyway it turned out that I had done a decent thing, the kid grew into a sound bloke and went up the company ranks in next to no time, he actually got to the level that I could even send him out to check out new business aquisitions and get the slacking workforce to speed up. He never mentioned his family or past life again and I decided to let it stay that way, after all I was doing pretty well thanks to his all business attitude.

Sadly his past caught up with him one day, when one of his old mates turned up to my office . Unfortunatley I wasn't in at the time but according to my PA Julie this "old mate" caused a shitloads of problems for my staff and god knows how much property damage.

By now the guy I took under my wing was becoming a bit of a liability, his son also showed up and caused him more grief so I made one last attempt to patch things up between them, by offering his son a job too.

The ungrateful little shit told me where to go, which kind of pissed me off as I always thought you had to be polite to your elders. I wil admit that hearing this little bugger backchat me made me lose my temper and I ended up giving him a bit of a kicking. Seeing me do this must have pissed off my mate because he ended up throwing me down a well.

Bloody Darth Vader- The biggest disappointment of my life!
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:36, 6 replies)
so, so sorry...
here is sit
broken hearted,
spent a penny
and only farted.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:35, 4 replies)
I don't believe I just did this
I just knocked myself over the head with a laundry rack.
So now I'm bleeding.
And very VERY disappointed in myself.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:31, Reply)
This QOTW is well timed I'll give it that...

Hearing these stories of disappointment, heartbreak and despair have inspired me to inform the reader of one of my own personal tragedies that, up to this moment, I have suffered in silence...

Only last week Belvedere, (my head butler) informed me that his wife had suddenly died and he has to attend the funeral tomorrow.

Which more importantly means I am going to have to put up with some knobbing underling dusting my Rembrandts that day; and they’ll no doubt do a shoddy, half-arsed, working-class job of it too.

But do I complain about my disappointment?

Do I Floella Benjamin’s flangeflaps.

Honestly, you whinging fuckers don’t know you’re born.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:27, 4 replies)
sorry for the unfunny
my friend, the anti-hero, tricked one of the girls he was walking back from a club with to go ahead and when her back was turned, promptly took the other girl back to his. it took me an hour longer to get home than it should have done, walking this girl across town to her house then going back to mine.

cheers mate.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:22, Reply)
Today's turning into a bit of a disappointment

Not the least of which was that the proxy server I was on allowed me to post the above subject line and a space instead of the wry, pithy explanation I was going to post, but then wouldn't allow me to log in and edit it O_o
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:15, 2 replies)
Marvelous Men and their Gaming Machines
Christmas 1997.

All I had wished for from my parents was a Sony PlayStation. All my friends were going to get one, and it was the 'in' thing. My nature of collecting videogames and consoles borders on manic nowadays, but back then resources were limited, and I amused myself by busily flicking through gaming magazines looking for all the games I would love to play on such a fine piece of kit. You can probably guess the anticipation I had leading up to the 25th.

Christmas morning comes, and rushing down the stairs to lunge at the presents, I feel great excitement welling up in the pit of my stomach. As was customary in my house, smaller presents are opened first, and then we work up to the big one.. oh yes, I've been waiting for this..

I tear at the corner of the wrapping paper, basking in the joy that lay underneath...

I see.. a word.

An unexpected word..


Had they betrayed all of the advice and requests I had laid at their feet? Had my parents made the mistake of buying a Saturn instead of a PlayStation?

Yes, and No.

They had not bought me a Saturn (with hindsight, thank fuck).

They had bought me a fucking Mega Drive.

A 9-year-old piece of gaming equipment.

I was not an angry youth, however, and I calmly explained the age of the gift, and the ridicule that would be levelled at me by my 'friends'. My dear father exclaimed his surprise, and thought he had bought the correct item, and apologised. My mother however disagreed with this view and noted that they bought the MegaDrive 'because it was cheap' and that I should have better things to do with my time than play videogames (from the person that spends 2.5 hours an evening watching mind-numbing soap operas).

Luckily however, my dad packed up the device and returned it, buying me an N64 to make up for things.

No, I never got a PlayStation, but the N64 was f'kin awesome!! GoldenEye FTW!

On a further note, I have bought many games over eBay, none have disappointed me except one.


The game was good, very good even, but at the time it only had a limited release in the US, and was relatively rare. I paid $80 for the sucker (about £65 at the time), and was pleased with my purchase.

Move forward 6 months.

SquareSoft decide to rerelease Xenogears. It's now worth about $10.


Also, after visiting the US last year, I find Oreos to be a big disappointment, as well as anything Hershey related. Yuck.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:10, 1 reply)
Reading down a post...
only to experience the feeling of bored disappointment as I realise it's just another shitty porn post.

Surely I can't be the only one who's sick of them now? Perhaps I am, who knows. I may be some sort of anomaly. It was funny with Frankspencer but everyone seems to have jumped on the bandwagon now and it's getting pretty dull.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 14:06, 5 replies)
My friends
My friends have all decided to randomly start going out with one another. Like two of them will randomly go off for a walk in the woods for several hours, come back flustered, then get all angry and embarrassed when someone makes a suggestive comment. Then another few will sit on top of each other kissing all night at a party, but honest there is nothing going on. And my very very best friend has decided that smoking is good because a guy she likes does it.

So yeah, I'm pretty dissapointed because they've kind of dissapeared.

And I need them, I've just had an operation :(

Sorry about the complaining, I just don't see this summer being as all time as we all planned.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 13:49, 3 replies)
I'm a little disappointed...
...that Andy Murray didn't go out before the quarter finals, upholding the fine tradition of British tennis players.

But then, I'm a bad man.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 13:44, 4 replies)
I think I disappointed my daughter.
This past weekend I drove my daughter up to my parents' place in the Adirondacks and got a chance to hang out with my parents for a couple of days. As Mom has just had her hip replaced and is still hobbling around with a cane I was glad to be there to cook and otherwise help out, at least for a short time.

My sisters have been taking turns staying with Mom for two weeks at a time during her recuperation. I was hanging out with my oldest sister and her husband with my girlfriend and my daughter when my sister began describing what it's been like caring for the OAPs (Old Age Parents, in this case). She described how Mom insists on using four scoops of coffee per pot because coffee is so expensive (resulting in water that has a faint coffee-like tinge to it), and how they insist on making exactly four cups so that there is no waste- and none left for her. By the end of her two weeks she was ready to chew holes in the walls, so she took up making things with beads to deal with stress.

"Hmm," I commented. "So the beading will continue until morale improves?"

My daughter was disappointed by the crapness of my pun and told me to leave.

(In case that's obscure, de-ris can be found here.)
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 13:43, 1 reply)
My biggest disappointment
Was that I was right, it was a space station.


Obi-Wan Kenobi
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 13:39, Reply)
Disappointment? It's the first day of the month
And my bank account balance has dropped dramatically close to empty.

Fucking electric. And gas. And council tax. And mortgage. And broadband. And phone. And mobile phone. And Union fees. And water bills. And that trip to the dentist.

When did being a grown up get so expensive?
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 13:32, 19 replies)
And He's Back....
Actually, I've never been away. I'm just posting less these days because my muse seems to have left me. I can't seem to string a decent post together no matter how I try. But The Loon reminded me of a story I'd told here before so I thought I'd repeat it. Can't be arsed to look up the original.

Anyways. Many moons ago I used to dabble in various alternative relgions, philosphies and cookiness. Just to see if there was anything actually in it. I devoured Von Daniken, lapped up Lyall Watson and even dabbled with Lobsang Rampa (aside: Go look him up. It's bizzare. He was a lorry driver from Devon who was suddenly taken over by a Tibetan Monk. So he wrote lots and lots of books and made lots and lots of money. Thousands of people really, truly believed he was a Tibetan Monk who'd swapped bodies with a lorry driver. They still believed even when said lorry driver couldn't speak Tibetan. It's staggering what people choose to believe..) And one of these alternate philosophies was the books of Carlos Castanda who claimed to have been taught South American magic by a witch-doctor called Don Juan. As most of these teaching seemed to involve taking lots of drugs (yay!) and meditating I thought I'd give it a shot.

So I did.

One of these exercises involved trusting your inner self. To do this you had to get outside of your body by meditating (I took the shortcut and got stoned as a bastard) and then running as fast as you could, with your eyes closed, through the countryside at night. Your inner self would automatically guide you away from harm.

Any idea how much it hurts when you run full-pelt into an oak tree?

I fucking do.

(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 13:11, 23 replies)
Mr Philip Anselmo
Yes you mr "all drug users are weak, pathetic people" Then you got busted jacking up backstage and now what have you done for the last 10 years?

Destroyed Pantera, formed superjoint ritual and what do we get? a load of old arse, the latest Down album? phut phut phut phut.

Disappointment doesn't even cover it, Far Beyond Driven and Vulgar Display of power were awesome, as was nola but everything else makes me grrrr.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 12:50, 1 reply)
Ever read Dante's "Inferno"?
In the sixth level of Hell is the City of Dis. You approach Satan's wretched city where you behold a wide plain surrounded by iron walls. Before you are fields full of distress and torment terrible. Burning tombs are littered about the landscape. Inside these flaming sepulchers suffer the heretics, failing to believe in God and the afterlife, who make themselves audible by doleful sighs. You will join the wicked that lie here, and will be offered no respite. The three infernal Furies stained with blood, with limbs of women and hair of serpents, dwell in this circle of Hell.

The walls of Dis are guarded by fallen angels. The buildings of Dis which are mentioned are Mosques and furnaces. Dis is extremely hot. Punished within Dis are those whose lives were marked by active (rather than passive) sins: heretics, murderers, suicides, blasphemers, usurers, sodomites, panderers, seducers, flatterers, Simoniacs, sorcerors, barrators, hypocrites, thieves, false counsellors, schismatics, falsifiers and traitors.

Many times I've been told that I'm going to hell, so I imagine someone is planning on seeing me down there.

That is one Dis appointment I would rather miss.
(, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 12:49, 10 replies)

This question is now closed.

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