» On the stage

being hit by a house and an impromptu ice skating performance
Just a couple I can think of at the moment - Firstly when I was about 12 or 13 I was playing Mr Beaver (no jokes, please) in The Lion the Witch and The Wardrobe. Everything going swimmingly until one set change. I was standing on stage with the rest of my beaver family when the lights went down for a scene change - from forest glade to beaver house. Unfortunately I was stood about 1 foot too far forward and the entire house came crashing down from onto my head. A big thunk can be heard in the video of this, followed by the dim view of a shadowy pair of legs sticking out towards the audience. Luckily my chicken-wire constructed beaver hat saved me from concussion, but for the rest of the play Mr Beaver had a serious dent in his head.

Secondly, not acting this time but backstage for a play (name forgotten) I was suspended on a very wobbly and dodgy gantry swinging from the eves of the theatre in charge of the dry ice machine - I had to operate this at certain points during the play to provide a misty atmosphere. Nothing as strong as fog, you realise, just mist. For those of you who don't know, these machines are operated by lowering a basket full of frozen carbon dioxide into a container of water. The water melts the dry ice and the wonderful misty effects are produced. Dry ice is VERY VERY cold (about -80 centigrade) so wearing gloves is a must. After the second ambient misting, things were going fine. Until one of my gloves fell off into the dry ice machine. This blocked the vents completely and wedged the basket of dry ice into the machine. "Oh well," I thought, becoming increasingly enshrouded with smoke, "I've missed the cue for this one, but hopefully I'll be able to work the blockage loose for the next one."
Wrong. Very wrong.
Missed two more cues whilst trying to extract my glove. Eventually however, I worked the wedged glove loose, but at a completely inopportune moment. The machine belched forth its entire stored quantity of smoke all over the stage. Which at that time was set as a living room, and not a misty forest.
Bugger.
The amount of dryice and liquid that poured from above all over the stage hit the stage floor and turned into a layer of ice. Real ice, not dry ice. The play was immediately turned something that closely resembled 'muppets on ice' which although hugely more entertaining than the actual play, still earned me a bollocking.
(Fri 2nd Dec 2005, 12:45, More)

» Housemates

Wrong, wrong, wrong
OK. I'm psyching myself up to tell this story cos it brings back so many bad memories....

I was struggling a bit with the mortgage after my boyf moved out, so I thought I'd get a lodger. I'd advertised in a few places online, and made sure that potential housemates knew I was a gay guy - thought I'd get that bridge crossed and eliminate potential homophobes first off.

After speaking to a few people, I started chatting to an interesting guy called James (name changed cos I can't even bring myself to say his name) He was a professional guy, worked in a university as a lecturer and research scientist, polite etc etc.

He came round for a look at the room I was renting out, and he seemed really nice. A bit stand-offish, but ok. He wasn't an axe murderer or anything (I actually asked him if he was) and was gay too. Not my type at all, btw, and I was sort of seeing someone at the time anyway.

So - he moved in, and things were fine for a couple of months. He kept himself to himself, did his share of the housework etc etc - all perfect.

During this time, my new boyfriend was spending a fair bit of time round the house, and prob stayed there three nights a week or so.

For some reason, this started to piss James off, and weird things started happening. First off, one morning I went to the bathroom and found a 'soiled' full body rubber catsuit with rubber knee high boots hanging over the shower rail (http://www.libidex.com/images/garmentimages/large/extreme%20cat1a%20move.JPG - similar to this)
Oh-kay. Well, we're all into different stuff, so I let it go. Wasn't particularly keen about it hanging over the bath with god knows what dripping off it, but hey - I'm quite an easy going guy.

A couple of nights later, James was out for the evening. Me and the boyf were watching TV downstairs, and decided to get a DVD out. Going through our collection, we found one of James' DVDs. Porn... Well - we did what any other red-blooded male would've done and stuck it in the player.

Oh my god.

Scat porn.

Home made scat porn.

Home made scat porn made in my house.



We gave him a very wide berth after that - what could we do? Then it got weirder. We found all of his scat-porn accoutrements that started appearing in the bathroom (including a professionally made toilet seat that was on legs so that someone could lie underneath it whilst someone else sat on it), more rubber suits and waders, dildos and so on.

The final straw came when me and the boyf had been away for the weekend. We came back, and the coffee table was permanently marked. With the outline of a base of a dildo so large it'd make an elephant cry. This dirty bastard had been rogering himself silly on top of my coffee table with a monster dildo stuck to the surface.

We got rid soon after that, so he's gone (but the dildo mark remains - nothing will shift that bugger)

Now that was cathartic - needed to get that out of my system!
(Thu 26th Feb 2009, 14:31, More)

» Evidence that you're getting old

I'm only 29....
1) My first job was installing DOS on the latest state-of-the art machines (8086s)
2) Windows came on floppy disks. Twelve of them. 5.25" disks that really were floppy. And it was black and white.
3) When I was young my dad refused to buy a video recorder because 'they'll never catch on'
4) I refuse to buy an iPod because 'they'll never catch on'
5) As a pre-cursor to a mid-life crisis, I bought a playstation. It terrifies me and I've played it twice.
6) pre-cursor - wtf?
7) I worry about mortgages, life insurance and pensions. And promptly forget everything anyone tells me about these.
8) I don't want a party for my next birthday.
9) I want socks and hankies for my next birthday.

Oh well... I've been assured that once you hit 40, you cease to worry about anything. [cries]
(Thu 28th Oct 2004, 17:45, More)

» Birthdays

oh dear...
This'll probably identify me far too easily, but here goes anyway apologies in advance for length....

My 21st was held in the pub I worked at at the time. Fantastic atmosphere, loads of mates, loads of booze none of which I paid for. I had a constantly full half pint glass of single malt in front of me all the time.
Was getting more and more pissed sat at a table with my parents and a few friends, when suddenly my parents disappeared. Bit odd I think, but carry on drinking none the less. Seconds later, the door to the function room opens to the sound of some dodgy 70s porn music (you know the sort) and a builder-type guy with a yellow hard hat and ripped jeans walked in. My parents and friends had only got me a bloody stripper (and yes - I am a gayboy, and no, the pub wasn't a gay pub) My parents had obviously left the room cos they didn't want to witness their firstborn covered in baby oil feeling up a blokes cock under a very small towel whilst wearing a hard hat and a look of pissed satisfaction.
Anyway, fun was had by all and I even managed to have a nice chat with the stripper's fiancee afterwards (he wasn't even a real gayboy - bloody typical!)
At some point towards the end of the evening, my brain had obviously shut down, and the next thing I remember is waking up the following morning - god knows how I'd managed the mile and a half walk home. I opened my eyes and reached for my glasses to try to see what sort of state I was in. Could I find them? Could I fuck. At some point during the walk home I'd lost my specs. Had to phone the police to report the loss to get a number so I could claim off the insurance to get a new pair:

WPC: So, when did you lose your glasses?
Me: Erm... sometime between midnight and 3am last night
WPC: OK, where did you lose them?
Me: Erm... somewhere between 'The Pub' and home
WPC: OK, [stifling a giggle], what sort of case were they in?
Me: Erm... they weren't in a case.
WPC: Oh, so you just had them loose in your pocket?
Me: Erm... no. I was wearing them.
WPC: [laughs out loud]
Me: Sigh.

What followed was a trip to Specsavers with my mum to get a new pair within the hour. Seriously, I must have melted the bloody eye-testing machine with my whiskey breath. And I was still as pissed as a fart.
Oh well - embarassment over, I think.
Wrong.
Later that day I get a call from the pub saying they're very sorry but I need to come in to work - there's been some sort of problem and they need my help, and won't take no for an answer.
I walk into the pub and immediately get herded into the function room where I was the night before. Facing me is a 6ft x 3ft photo on photoboard of me in a black shirt, covered in baby oil (which looks remarkably like cum in the photo) with my hands locked on the contents of what was inside the strippers towel. Looking like a right state.
Whole pub applauds, and I have to phone my mum to give me a lift home with the photo almost strapped to the back of the car, visible to everyone driving behind us.
I kept that photo for about a year until I was brave enough to take it to the tip. Again, in the back of mum's car.

Good grief - it's a wonder I don't need therapy after that one!
(Fri 9th Dec 2005, 14:41, More)

» School Days

ice ice baby
11 years old and first day back after the Christmas break.
The caretakers had just broken the ice on the outdoor pool.
Twenty of us had to jump in and then say 'Thank you, Sir'

Sigh. It's a wonder I'm not more fucked up than I am.
(Thu 29th Jan 2009, 12:41, More)