Well, that taught 'emSammi Evil Nice writes "I shared with two students, and it was always the same; whenever it was near to paytime, my milk *and only this* would disappear.
One of them, John, was a lovely bloke but allergic to nuts. John makes tea. Soon after, John starts swelling up.
ME: Runs, administers epi-pen. "You're going into anaphalactic shock."
HIM: "How do you know?"
ME: "I put almond oil in my milk."
What have you done to teach somebody a lesson?
(, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 14:54)
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They were staying with us, so it's fair really...Many moons ago, when I was but 18 or so, my parents had some friends who had fallen on hard times. This was mainly due to the parents of the family being as dumb as brushes. Anyway, they were temporarily houseless, so the the two younger daughters came to stay with us.
"W00t!" I thought (well, not quite). They had a video - this was back in the days when videos had big piano keys on them and came in VHS and Betamax. So a big novelty.
These two. There was the youngest daughter, who was slightly stuck up, but mostly OK. And then there was her older sister, who was a total bitch. She was so up herself, it was amazing she didn't revolve.
Somehow, I ended up driving this pair back from somewhere to our house. In my car. On my petrol. Anyway, the middle daughter (called Angela, even though she was as far from an angel as you could get - I'm guessing Bitchula was taken or something) was loudly criticising my clothes, my car, my lifestyle, the lot. Get this - she was going on about me living with my parents, when she was, er, living with my parents.
Eventually she said something about she was a better driver than me, even though I had a license and she didn't. I stopped the car, and politely asked if my driving was that bad. She claimed it was. I asked her if she'd feel safer outside the car. She said she probably would. I invited her to check. She got out of the car, and slammed the door pointedly.
I drove off. We were only a couple of miles from home. Her sister said that she couldn't believe I'd done that, and that she'd tell my Dad. I told her to go for it, as my Dad would probably have done the same thing.
We got home. My Dad asked where Angela was. Before I could say a word, her sister piped up and told my Dad the story. When she finished, he asked if this was, in fact, true. I said that it was.
His answer: "Good lad!"
Angela never spoke to me again. No loss, she was an arrogant, ugly, stuck up, miserable swamp donkey.
Oh, er, I never did anything to any milk when I was at Uni. Sorry, I didn't realise questions would be asked later.
(, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 21:33, Reply)
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