At least once a month
Cereal in the cat's bowl.

Cat food in mine.

She's now a big fan of cornflakes and rice krispies. Cat food on the other hand is horrific and I can see why she gets more pleasure out of cleaning her own arse.
(Milo Minderbinder, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 10:47, Reply)

A pea:
In 1994, I was sent to Romania to teach Conversational English. I was sent over with my friend Mike, and, on discovering that being English was essentially your credit card to everything, proceeded to spend a lot of time getting completely fucking trashed.

However, we soon met a fellow Conversational English teacher. He was an American chap called Roger, and older than us - he was mid-40s to our early 20s. He took us under his wing, and thus we two became three.

One night we spent discussing the joy of weed, and soon became very hungry. We'd all been instructed independently to really, really not bother, as the penalties for being caught were very, very harsh.

Cue Roger telling us how his girlfriend was a nurse.

"So what?" we said, "That doesn't help matters at all."

"No no" rebutted he, "See, she's my age - that makes her a senior nurse. She's in charge of getting rid of all the class A pharmecuticals."

"That's nice" we said, "But still doesn't really help matters."

"Shall we go back to mine?" he said, as we all finished our drinks.

With nothing better to do, we did.

________


All I remember is Mike finding it terrifically funny. I was laughing, but I felt like I was locked inside myself, and was actually very, very frightened.

"WHAT ABOUT THIS?!" screamed Roger, his eyes bulging, his grin maniacal, and he slapped me, hard. Very hard. The only reason I knew it was very hard is because A) He'd pulled his hand right back, and B) when it had connected I'd seen the other side of the room.

"VAGABOND" they both shouted, "WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THAT?!"

I could not stop laughing. I could not, for the life of me, stop laughing. I was absolutely terrified locked inside my skull, and I could not stop laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing.

Now they were taking it in turns to slap me, occassionally screaming frantically at me to WAKE UP!

It took my friend and I an hour and a half to walk the five-minute journey back home that night, and thankfully we didn't encounter any police. Mike stayed awake all night watching me, but was nonplussed when I finally awoke, and needless to say went straight to bed.

It would be a long time before I mixed drinking and random pharmecuticals again.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 10:46, 2 replies)

Pregnancy brain
My sister in law recently had a baby and is currently a little scatty. The other day she turned the gas hob on and put the electric kettle on it, turning it into a massive burning plastic mess. It's funny now, but in reality, bloody dangerous!
(TheBat, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 10:30, 4 replies)

How did I get here
I stood in the bus queue in a lovely little village called Walsall (West Mids), when I suddenly remembered I had rode my motorbike there and it was parked with my helmet attached in the multi story car park by the college. I decided not to catch the 341 after all.
(MrGoatsmilk, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 10:29, Reply)

of
I once forgot how to spell the word 'of' spent about 5 minutes writing 'ov' thinking, that's definitely not right.
(TheBat, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 10:24, 2 replies)

Car Keys.

In the fridge.

With alarming regularity.
(themarginwalker, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 10:11, 8 replies)

I've lost my QOTW Bingo card
Can anyone help me recreate it?

I remember the following squares:

Maddy
Dreadful Pun
Unrelated story
Fritzl
America Bashing
Casual Racism
Star Wars
Film Plot In Disguise
Sudden Cowardly Deletion

UPDATED:

Honda Accords
Massive Drugs
Sweaty Internet Virgins
Apololgies for length
'...for that was his name'
Anagrams of Pearoast
*pop*
Long Time Lurker
"Needless to say"
Cue...
"I digress"
tl;dr
"Anyhoo"
Wavy Lines
'Not mine, but...'
My guilty pleasure is posting XX weeks late.
Obvious reference to news story Du Jour.
Please be gentle
'Blah, Blah, Blah "joke"'
Cheers
I like breasts
AICMFP
First...
POIDH
Your Mum
My X died of Y, you insensitive bastard
Unspecified pedantry
So your story is...(an irrelevant list with no bearing on the question, as it happens)
Should of...
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 10:03, 21 replies)

Freshly roasted pea
Not me, but it lets me shoehorn this pea.

It was the day after Hogmanay, Jan 1st, and of course in Scotland the drinking doesn't stop until the 4th, when it start to thin out until it's the weekend. There was a group of us quaffing some fine ales Tennants lager (men) and rum and coke (women) in my mum's house, including a friend of my sister.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Eight," we all reply.

"Is that a.m. or p.m.?"

Stunned silence.
(McChinaman banned, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 9:50, Reply)

Not too long ago
I had to go into town (about a 2 mile walk).
When I got there I suddenly realised I had no idea why I was there.
So I decided to phone home and ask the wife as she was sensible, except I'd forgotten my mobile.
So I tried a phone box and promptly dialled my home number but put half the digits in the wrong order.
So I had to walk home becuase I had no more change to try again.
(Captain Spacker I lick windows, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 9:37, 2 replies)

Turns out they were the droids I'd been looking for.

(FondaAccord, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 9:24, 4 replies)

Acid
My friend and I were tripping our nuts off, wandering around Bath at about 4am one morning.

We walked past a hi-fi shop, stopped, and were staring in through the window, at all the reeeally amaaazing lights and equipment.

"This is really weird ... " said my friend, bumping his head gently against the window, "This is really, really weird ... ", bump, bump, bump, "Really weird ... really weird ... this is really weird ... " bump, bump, bump ...

I joined in, the pair of us bumping our heads gently against the window, bump, bump, bump ... bump, bump, bump ... bump, bump, bump ... really weird ...

Don't do drugs, kids - they turn you into an absolute moron.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 9:23, Reply)

The Voices
I'd decided after 18 years of smoking that it probably wasn't a great idea for my long term survival so quitting was the way forward. I was too lazy to bother with seeing my GP and had heard wonder stories about a new drug, Zyban, which was developed as an anti-depressant but was found to help people quit the tabs so thought sod it I'll just buy some. Off I went and scoured some american drug sites and the magic pills were procured (about £120's worth for a month if I remember correctly).
The idea is you take one a day for a few days then up the dosage to two for the remainder of the course - you don't attempt to quit until a week into the course once the happy chemicals have filled your brain with rainbows.
All was going well for the first few days, fags had started to taste foul and I was confident of quitting when the time was right - then I upped the dose.
Sat at my desk at work outside the MDs office I started to rush as if I was coming up on an acid trip - this was totally unexpected but not wholly unpleasant - in fact if I wasn't at work it would have been ace but I had to keep a lid on things so I let my colleagues know what was occurring and simply sat there gurning happily to myself for the next half an hour. Things settled and I returned home and despite my reservations took my second pill of the day. I felt a little strange and had a quickened pulse but not too bad so went to sleep hoping it was just my body adjusting to the mood enhancing drugs.
Roll forward a few hours then BANG! - I'm awake sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding, can't catch my breath, full on panic attack. Mrs Catkiller shot up soon after and helped calm me down, breathe etc but despite being calmer I still felt distinctly weird and spaced out. I laid back down again and that's when they came - THE VOICES!!!
It was like someone was bent over me whispering in my ear and in a clear voice that wasn't mine it ordered me, very firmly to "Push her out of the bed" Now that may seem pretty amusing and we do laugh about it now but at the time it completely shit me up - once again I'm sat upright on the edge of the bed panicking but unlike previously this time I had the Army of Darkness to contend with.
For anyone who hasn't seen Evil Dead 2 Ash, the hero, has his hand possessed but that's childsplay - I wasn't in control of either of my arms - it felt like they had a mind of their own and it wasn't in a good mood. It was all I could do to hold my arms in check and not allow them to carry out the orders that The Voices were barking in my ear to do the Mrs harm.
I had to get out and, ironically, have a cigarette to calm my nerves. I managed to calm down and eventually get back to sleep but I'm not sure how well Mrs Catkiller slept that night.
In the morning the pills were binned and the voices never returned but for a short while I think this fully qualifies as losing it.
(lopezthecatkiller has not killed a cat since....., Fri 22 Jul 2011, 9:12, 6 replies)

My Mum went pretty mad ...
A few years after she divorced Dad. It would seem that Divorce was not the panacea to her woes. I suppose she found herself raising three teenagers on a single income and the strain began to show.

I was the eldest and a girl. It was my job to push the boundaries of suffocating over-protectiveness that most parents have, but don't actually realise. Can't say I was ever a bad kid; never came home drunk or stoned, did well at school, and never had a boyfriend at that point. But teenagers are more stupid than their parents give them credit for. It all started with odd lectures along the lines of 'you live under my house, you live by my rules', but never were the rules set out or any penalty mentioned.

So it came as rather a surprise when, after a blazing row, the subject of which I honestly don't remember, she kicked me out ... into the street ... hurling an empty suitcase at my head (what use was an empty suitcase?) ... shouting 'Never darken my doorstep again' for added theatrical effect.

I was 17 and 5 months old. Not legally an adult, but big enough to make my own way, I suppose. A school friend's mum took me in, bless her sweet heart, until I managed to finish school, find a burger flipping job and find a sharehouse to live in.

A few years later, Mum was diagnosed with an overactive thyroid. Symptoms include violent mood swings.

This is not a 'pity me' story. Things turned out well.

So please, if anyone around you suddenly changes, don't just write them off as 'mad' or 'lost it'. Entertain the possibility of an underlying medical cause. It can save a lot of heartache.
(Que?, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 8:09, 3 replies)

I was organising some kids games and needed a blindfold for one of them.
I found a particularly wide tie, which would do the job.
But what do I look like wearing a blindfold? Hm, not sure.
So to find out I put the blindfold on and looked in the mirror.
Surprisingly enough the results weren't really satisfactory.
( Zuowan, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 7:18, 6 replies)

Thesis madness
Writing a thesis does strange things to your brain. Cast your minds back in time to 2005, when I was writing my Honours thesis...

It was the final week of semester, with all theses due on Friday afternoon. I had a meeting scheduled with my supervisor at 2:30 one afternoon to go over my final revisions to a chapter. So when I woke up and glanced at the clock next to my bed to see that it read 16:30, I panicked. Leaping out of bed, yelling fuck-word after fuck-word, I ran to the phone. How on earth could I have overslept so badly?? I had to ring my supervisor and apologise for missing the meeting!

As I was standing there, holding the phone and realising that I didn't actually have my supervisor's number, my mother came into the room in her dressing gown and asked what the hell was going on. I explained that it was 4:30 in the afternoon and for some reason I had slept the entire day.

"...it's half past six in the morning. Go back to bed."

I looked east out the window, to where the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon.

"Oh."

I somewhat sheepishly went back to bed, where upon more careful examination of my clock, it did indeed read 6:30 instead of 16:30. It was also at this point that I remembered that this particular clock didn't even display 24-hour time.

Oops.
(oball needs Satan more than he needs me, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 6:16, 1 reply)

The heebie-geebies
I have a fear of getting the heebie-geebies, or the DTs - delirium tremens, alcoholics withdrawal. My grandparents were alcoholics and my mum told me stories of them coming off the drink, with the attendant horror stories of my granny seeing insects, having a string over the fireplace so she could sweep them off as they come over to here. I was only about 10 when I heard this story (thanks, Mum!) and it proper shit me up. I've always hated insects and the idea of them marching up on you, IN YOUR MIND, proper gives me willies.

In 2008 I spent the summer in the UK, as a friend was getting married etc etc, before returning to China. Before I left, I had a spate of leaving-nights, as various friends saw me off. Inevitably these were drunken riotous bashes, with ample quantities of falling down juice poured down my throat. If I'd refused any drinks, not only would I have my masculinity questioned (damn Scottish alcoholic machismo) but also deeply offend the drink-offerer, as in the pub in "American Werewolf In London".

Come the morning after the third night, my last whole day before leaving for London, I wake up and feel like a rhinoceros has been skullfucking me. To be expected, perhaps. I couldn't get back to sleep, so I lay in bed reading. But I couldn't read, the words swimming before my eyes, so I watched some films or TV on my laptop. I wasn't really watching whatever it was, just passively letting the visuals wash before my eyes in the traditional hangover fashion, but I had this dreadful, paranoid feeling that it was all going to start moving of its own accord, proper DTs style, and I'd be carted off to the loony bin. Out of the corner of my eye, I kept thinking I saw things moving, and would glance to find it was just a sock, not a crocodile or army of marching ants.

I don't drink so much these days.
(McChinaman banned, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 4:24, 1 reply)

While I'm up...
Just the other day I was shouting at my computer because I couldn't figure out why I'd written such nonsense. No, it wasn't a piece of text, it was just one word: type.

My brain just couldn't accept the fact that it was an actual word, it either didn't exist or was spelled completely wrongly. I'd just been doing a find and replace in my code to change a variable to be called type, so I knew it was right 2 seconds ago, but now I was having an argument with myself and my computer about why it was lying to me.

I seem to recall that this isn't a new thing either, I remember asking my dad when I was a wee nipper, what this strange word "ancient" was, despite being old enough to know better.
(anonymousreality tickled your fancy on, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 4:18, 2 replies)

I'm a self-certified insomniac.
So I quite regularly have periods where I wonder what the hell is going on and have to concentrate to try and decide if I'm dreaming, or not. Quite often it's just frustrating, like right now I'm more tired than a tired thing that studied at tired university and majored in staring at the ceiling. Most of the things are fairly mundane.

Like when I was working for a small company, as the sole programmer, doing about 3 people's jobs. I went to the cash machine and withdrew £20, but walked away with just my bank card and no money. It was only a few feet from the machine that I realised, but the knob tickler that was behind me had obviously taken the money and buggered off!

Most of the weird things that happen, happen in that period of sleep where you're not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. For example, jerking awake and wondering why there's a bright light shining through my window and coming to the conclusion that there couldn't possibly be a bright light shining through my window, so I must be somewhere else other than my flat. Then spending the next 10 minutes stumbling around, turning all the lights on to convince myself that I was in fact in my flat. I still have no idea what the light was, or if the light was even real.

I also quite regularly experience a phenomenon that I can't remember the name of. You basically imagine that a shadowy creature is hovering over your bed, looking like something from the Dark Crystal. They descend upon you, clearly looking to do you harm, when suddenly you wake up and have to check that you haven't shat yourself.

Finally, the most realistic event was actually a nice one. It's the one that's stayed with me for quite some time. It was a good few years ago, I was living on my own in a flat in Glasgow and I wasn't doing particularly well. My insomnia was bothering me, amongst other things. I was drifting off to sleep in my tiny bedroom, just barely big enough to fit a double bed and a hip-height bookcase at the end of it. I turned over in my sleep and realised there was someone sitting on the bookcase, no idea who it was, but it jerked me awake (no, not like that!). Of course there was no one there, so I just went back to sleep. A few minutes later he's back, but this time he gets up and walks out the room and smiles and nods to me as he leaves, as though to suggest that everything is going to be ok.

I'm not normally one to believe in the supernatural, but something about that moment made me feel ok, for the first time in a long while. My Swedish friend tells me it was my guardian angel, or some spirit who was watching over me. I'm not so sure, I just think that was me finally losing it!

Hopefully this has now been boring enough to send me to sleep...
(anonymousreality tickled your fancy on, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 4:10, 4 replies)

I once forgot how to open a bag of crisps
Was looking at it going "What do I do here again..?"
(McChinaman banned, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 3:48, Reply)

Does circumcision count?
Cause Michael J. Fox did mine...
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 2:16, 5 replies)

First post is about posting *in joke*
It was school holiday time, My Dad was working late shifts and Mom had left me her housekeys before she went off to her part-time job.

A friend came around asking if I wanted to go to town. I wanted to but I had Mom's keys and she'd be back from work before Dad and wouldn't be able to get in the house if I wasn't there...

...I had a brainwave:

I'd post the keys through the letterbox in our front door. That way when Mom came home and let herself in, the keys would be sitting there and she'd be able to...let herself in...oh dear...how could she let herself in? How was I suppossed to get back in now I'd posted the keys?

Sitting on a doorstep til 10pm with an angry Mother is not something I'd recommend. Luckily Dad saw the funny side and only drowned one of our dogs as punishment.
(durtydriscoll, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 2:15, Reply)

Tonight
I drove back from a gig in London. About an hour's drive more or less.

As I "de-carred" I could hear the shrill cacophony of what seemed like hundreds of crickets, all rubbing their legs against their wings, or whatever it is that they do to make that persistent night-time noise. But hang on a minute, thought I, we don't usually get crickets banging out their insectual tunes at night? This isn't the Mediterranean? I paused by the door, briefly purveying the front lawn to try and determine where on earth upon the bowling green-like vista they could be.

Nonplussed, I turned the key into the lock, and made my way into the house. Then I realised the sound was still there. But more of a ringing sound. In my ears. My ears were still ringing from the feedback from the gig...

Teach me to stand right at the fecking front...
(SonoraAeroClub "OH SWEET HELEN OF BALLS!", Fri 22 Jul 2011, 1:42, Reply)

Nightclub vs world of warcraft
Okay, for a short point of my life, i was addicted to world of warcraft. I played a Priest character, which as everyone probably knows is a healer. Casting spells to heal the other characters, shields, protection etc.

Combine this addiction with the fact that i was (and still am) heavily addicted to psychedelic trance music, It should come as no surprise that at one point, one the dance floor - After ingesting a disco biscuit and losing myself in the music. For a brief moment of time, I thought I was playing world of warcraft - and found myself 'casting spells of healing' - namely waving my arms at people - trying to give them hitpoints back and wondering why the graphics weren't working.

Thank fuck I wasn't a warrior or a rogue eh?
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 1:33, 1 reply)

First!
Suck it!

_shit
(Vigilante Man weeps because you're stupid., Fri 22 Jul 2011, 1:04, Reply)

I like to sing numbers from the UK singles chat in the bog.
Loo sing hit, if you will.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 0:28, 4 replies)

I was once doing some double entry accounting on the torso of a topless lady.
On one side there was a Profit Tit.
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 0:23, Reply)

My ex's Dad
was helping with the cooking one afternoon and decided to make some gravy, so out came the Bisto granules, into a mug with some boiling water. He then finished it off with milk and 2 sugars.
( His Popiness the Hole Invaded Poland on, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 0:10, 5 replies)

I went for a dump....
I squeezed, pushed and tensed my muscles until I could feel the turtle poking it's head out.Beads of sweat started to form on my brow as the energy was sapped from my body for this gargantuan effort.Then all the elements combined.The sun aligned with Venus.The moon cross orbited with Jupiter.The milky way was eclipsed by a once in a life time comet shower.The toilet seat reached the optimum temperature and finally I finished the next level of angry birds.I focused my faecal chakra and combined the forces of the universe into a single unifying force and expelled the chocolate refugee with such force that it felt as though for the briefest of moments I actually levitated off the floor.

A smug smile crept across the face of a man who knew he had done a job well.I paused to consider the meaning of life, the futility of feminism and the entirely absorbing conundrum of why all bottled beers were not twist off's.I glanced down and moved my extravagantly large member out of the way so I could survey the damage.To my horror there was nothing.Not even a skid mark or a poo stain down the side of the pan.Had I imagined the whole episode? Surely not...I distinctly remember hearing a plop as the projectile was launched.To this day I'm not sure if that was my first out of body poo'sperience, but if there was ever a moment I thought I was losing it that was it....
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 0:05, 9 replies)