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» Secret Santa
Extended Family
I know this is slightly off topic, but what you are about to read, regards the Christmas presents we (my family and I) have been given by my relatives, on my Mother's side family over the years, which is a little like secret santa, because what we usually receive from them, suggests that the frame of mind, of certain members of my extended family, when purchasing gifts, is very much in the same vein as someone whom is buying anonymously.
1) At the age of 11 my youngest brother received an oversize plastic hammer, which played the sound of glass smashing, when the end of the hammer was struck against another object. It was second hand, and on the box was written "Suitable for 2-4 year olds".
2) Both my brothers, my sister, and I, opened our gifts one Christmas morning, and were pleasanlty suprised to find we had all received remote control cars, which for once seemed a really good gift, on closer inspection however, the remote control cars were all attached to a 5ft wire, on the end of which was the controller, so not so good. The cars in action, were a little like taking a dog for a walk, really slowly.
3) My father received what I can only describe as a dwarf barbeque (too large and heavy to be considered a camping stove, the trade name on the box was "GrillFass"), with about enough room to cook a couple of rashers of bacon. Not a great gift for a family of six, and probably picked up in the bargain bin at a garden centre, as I don't know too many shops that have a push on barbeques at Christmas time. Also, the barbeque was about a foot tall, and didn't have legs. So when in use, because the cast iron lump would get quite hot, you either had to put it on the ground, crouch, and then cook, or somehow find a flame retardent, tungsten table to place it upon.
4) Another great present for my father, "Thus Spoke Zarathustra", by Friedrich Nietzsche. I didn't understand what this book was at the time (so I was unable to appreciate the sublime stupidity of this gift until years later), but neither did my dad, who is more of a cricket fan than a philosopher, I think his reaction once he had removed the wrapping paper, was "That's a funny name for a novel".
5) At the age of 14, from my Grandma, I received what was entitled a "Penis Repair Kit", in which were bundled a small pair of scissors, some moisturiser, and a couple of lace bows. I don't know how self assured other pubescent teenagers are about their private parts, but opening this in front of my family whom were all laughing, was very emabarassing. Further more, when I threw it in the bin, the gift tag fell off, and underneath was written the message "Love, from Sarah Tweedy, p.s. don't tell Dad", so another second hand gift.
6) One of my brothers once stupidly mentioned, in front of our grand parents, that they liked liquor chocolates. So for 5 years straight they received, a value size box of "brandy beans" (about 50 in a box, all exactly the same... after eating about 5, you're sick of them), each Christmas, made by the exact same manufacturer, and with exaclty the same design on the box. I swear they bought them in bulk in the January sales one year.
7) My sister once received an oil burning lamp.....
8) The elder of my two brothers also received a "Ralph Lauren" shirt. Again, seemingly a decent gift, however when he tried it on, it was obvious it was second hand, it smelled of cigarettes, and the collar was massive, like something John Travolta might have worn in Saturday Night Fever.
9) Finally, there was the hamper from my Mother's brother. He is married to a dutch woman, and lives in Holland, so one Christmas he sent all the family, a hamper of Dutch delicacies. On the basis of this hamper, I would hate to see what the Dutch consider, inedible, in which there was a giant tub of apple jelly, stale biscuits, some other strange barely edible crap, and the centre piece of the hamper, some aniseed flavoured tables, apparently for making flavoured water (Hot or Cold!), I think they were called "arsjeblookes", and could well have been mistaken for suppositories.
I wonder what I'll get this year, and I wonder If I'll be able to sell it on Ebay.
Merry Christmas.
EDIT: p.s. Just so my post qualifies (it isn't very interesting, feel free to move on to the next post), I have taken part in a Secret Santa thing before. I gave a fellow female employee a hand made A-Team t-shirt, with pictures of Hannibal, Face, Murdock and BA, each with a silly caption underneath (I was really proud of my work, I wish I had a picture to post). Unfortunately the miserable bag seemed quite apathetic about her gift, I later learned she was a frighteningly devoted Bruce Springstein fan, in retrospect, I should have chosen different pictures to match the caption "Porn in the USA", or something similar....missed opportunity.
EDIT EDIT: p.p.s To Sarah Tweedy (whoever you are), if you're reading, your boyfriend gave your gift to my grandma, which means that either your boyfriend thinks my gran has a penis, or he wanted her to have a look at his old chap, either way, he seems like a bad egg...also I'm confused, is your boyfriend's dad, also your dad? I have wondered sometimes. I hope you didn't marry the fellow.
(Thu 21st Dec 2006, 0:55, More)
Extended Family
I know this is slightly off topic, but what you are about to read, regards the Christmas presents we (my family and I) have been given by my relatives, on my Mother's side family over the years, which is a little like secret santa, because what we usually receive from them, suggests that the frame of mind, of certain members of my extended family, when purchasing gifts, is very much in the same vein as someone whom is buying anonymously.
1) At the age of 11 my youngest brother received an oversize plastic hammer, which played the sound of glass smashing, when the end of the hammer was struck against another object. It was second hand, and on the box was written "Suitable for 2-4 year olds".
2) Both my brothers, my sister, and I, opened our gifts one Christmas morning, and were pleasanlty suprised to find we had all received remote control cars, which for once seemed a really good gift, on closer inspection however, the remote control cars were all attached to a 5ft wire, on the end of which was the controller, so not so good. The cars in action, were a little like taking a dog for a walk, really slowly.
3) My father received what I can only describe as a dwarf barbeque (too large and heavy to be considered a camping stove, the trade name on the box was "GrillFass"), with about enough room to cook a couple of rashers of bacon. Not a great gift for a family of six, and probably picked up in the bargain bin at a garden centre, as I don't know too many shops that have a push on barbeques at Christmas time. Also, the barbeque was about a foot tall, and didn't have legs. So when in use, because the cast iron lump would get quite hot, you either had to put it on the ground, crouch, and then cook, or somehow find a flame retardent, tungsten table to place it upon.
4) Another great present for my father, "Thus Spoke Zarathustra", by Friedrich Nietzsche. I didn't understand what this book was at the time (so I was unable to appreciate the sublime stupidity of this gift until years later), but neither did my dad, who is more of a cricket fan than a philosopher, I think his reaction once he had removed the wrapping paper, was "That's a funny name for a novel".
5) At the age of 14, from my Grandma, I received what was entitled a "Penis Repair Kit", in which were bundled a small pair of scissors, some moisturiser, and a couple of lace bows. I don't know how self assured other pubescent teenagers are about their private parts, but opening this in front of my family whom were all laughing, was very emabarassing. Further more, when I threw it in the bin, the gift tag fell off, and underneath was written the message "Love, from Sarah Tweedy, p.s. don't tell Dad", so another second hand gift.
6) One of my brothers once stupidly mentioned, in front of our grand parents, that they liked liquor chocolates. So for 5 years straight they received, a value size box of "brandy beans" (about 50 in a box, all exactly the same... after eating about 5, you're sick of them), each Christmas, made by the exact same manufacturer, and with exaclty the same design on the box. I swear they bought them in bulk in the January sales one year.
7) My sister once received an oil burning lamp.....
8) The elder of my two brothers also received a "Ralph Lauren" shirt. Again, seemingly a decent gift, however when he tried it on, it was obvious it was second hand, it smelled of cigarettes, and the collar was massive, like something John Travolta might have worn in Saturday Night Fever.
9) Finally, there was the hamper from my Mother's brother. He is married to a dutch woman, and lives in Holland, so one Christmas he sent all the family, a hamper of Dutch delicacies. On the basis of this hamper, I would hate to see what the Dutch consider, inedible, in which there was a giant tub of apple jelly, stale biscuits, some other strange barely edible crap, and the centre piece of the hamper, some aniseed flavoured tables, apparently for making flavoured water (Hot or Cold!), I think they were called "arsjeblookes", and could well have been mistaken for suppositories.
I wonder what I'll get this year, and I wonder If I'll be able to sell it on Ebay.
Merry Christmas.
EDIT: p.s. Just so my post qualifies (it isn't very interesting, feel free to move on to the next post), I have taken part in a Secret Santa thing before. I gave a fellow female employee a hand made A-Team t-shirt, with pictures of Hannibal, Face, Murdock and BA, each with a silly caption underneath (I was really proud of my work, I wish I had a picture to post). Unfortunately the miserable bag seemed quite apathetic about her gift, I later learned she was a frighteningly devoted Bruce Springstein fan, in retrospect, I should have chosen different pictures to match the caption "Porn in the USA", or something similar....missed opportunity.
EDIT EDIT: p.p.s To Sarah Tweedy (whoever you are), if you're reading, your boyfriend gave your gift to my grandma, which means that either your boyfriend thinks my gran has a penis, or he wanted her to have a look at his old chap, either way, he seems like a bad egg...also I'm confused, is your boyfriend's dad, also your dad? I have wondered sometimes. I hope you didn't marry the fellow.
(Thu 21st Dec 2006, 0:55, More)
» Shame
Loss of Temper
Apologies for the long intro, but please bear with it.........I was a young man still just in my teens, and had been in the same slave wage apprentice engineering job for nearly 4 years, it was just starting to dawn on me that I hated my job, my boss was an absolute tyrant, my take home pay was rubbish (a strangely re-occurring thought for over 15 years now), and that my life was crappy, although I could not admit it to myself, as I stupidly thought, being young and innocent, that if I left the shitty apprenticeship my career and my life would be ruined forever.
Due to my melancholic disposition, lack of enthusiam for my job, and tyranical boss, getting into work on time was a struggle and I would regularly get to work well after I was supposed to be at my desk. My bosses began to notice and after a few meetings with them to discuss the problem (when I should have had the balls to resign), they deciced to send me off to one of the company project sites in London, on the strict promise that my punctuality was to improve....after two weeks of turning up late on site, the site manager told me that if I was late one more time he would be letting the bosses back at the office know what was happening....That night when I got home I was adamant that I would be on time for work the next morning, that I would not be getting sacked, I would force myself to enjoy my job, and that everything would work out....nearly at the shameful bit......
I crawled out of bed at 7:30 am the next morning, I had to be in London for 8:30am, it wasn't looking too good, I left my house at 7:35am, jumped on my push bike, and after an exhausting 3 mile ride, through red traffic lights, and unwary pedestrians, made it to the the station for 7:44 just in time for the 7:45 train....the train was due into King's Cross at 8:20am...after which a 10 minute tube ride and a 5 minute walk to the site, which would make me 5 minutes late, although if I ran once leaving the tube station, I might just make it in time. The site manager was adamant, I was not to be late or else, and by now, as I frantically checked my watch on the train every 2 seconds, getting to work on time had become the single most important event, ever.
I sprinted out of the tube station at 8:28am for all my life was worth, already exhausted from anxiety and the bike ride to the station. I charged down Victoria Street, a sweaty, panting, confused mess, I was in metres of the site (8:29am + 55 Ses), when a frail old lady, shuffling along with a zimmer frame, crossed my path on the pavement, causing me to slow down and change direction....thus losing vital seconds.
As I brushed passed the poor old lady, out of sheer frustration and panic I bellowed "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVE!!!!!!", about 2 inches from her ear......I think every head on Victoria Street turned in my direction, but I did not care, I had to get to work, I could have caused the frail old lady a heart attack or stroke, but I did not care, and I did not look back to see if she was OK.
Frightening old ladies nearly to death whilst on the way to work was bordering on madness, and not to mention shameful.
I quit my job a month or two later, and have never regretted it.
Little old lady...I'm sorry.
(Wed 30th Nov 2005, 11:24, More)
Loss of Temper
Apologies for the long intro, but please bear with it.........I was a young man still just in my teens, and had been in the same slave wage apprentice engineering job for nearly 4 years, it was just starting to dawn on me that I hated my job, my boss was an absolute tyrant, my take home pay was rubbish (a strangely re-occurring thought for over 15 years now), and that my life was crappy, although I could not admit it to myself, as I stupidly thought, being young and innocent, that if I left the shitty apprenticeship my career and my life would be ruined forever.
Due to my melancholic disposition, lack of enthusiam for my job, and tyranical boss, getting into work on time was a struggle and I would regularly get to work well after I was supposed to be at my desk. My bosses began to notice and after a few meetings with them to discuss the problem (when I should have had the balls to resign), they deciced to send me off to one of the company project sites in London, on the strict promise that my punctuality was to improve....after two weeks of turning up late on site, the site manager told me that if I was late one more time he would be letting the bosses back at the office know what was happening....That night when I got home I was adamant that I would be on time for work the next morning, that I would not be getting sacked, I would force myself to enjoy my job, and that everything would work out....nearly at the shameful bit......
I crawled out of bed at 7:30 am the next morning, I had to be in London for 8:30am, it wasn't looking too good, I left my house at 7:35am, jumped on my push bike, and after an exhausting 3 mile ride, through red traffic lights, and unwary pedestrians, made it to the the station for 7:44 just in time for the 7:45 train....the train was due into King's Cross at 8:20am...after which a 10 minute tube ride and a 5 minute walk to the site, which would make me 5 minutes late, although if I ran once leaving the tube station, I might just make it in time. The site manager was adamant, I was not to be late or else, and by now, as I frantically checked my watch on the train every 2 seconds, getting to work on time had become the single most important event, ever.
I sprinted out of the tube station at 8:28am for all my life was worth, already exhausted from anxiety and the bike ride to the station. I charged down Victoria Street, a sweaty, panting, confused mess, I was in metres of the site (8:29am + 55 Ses), when a frail old lady, shuffling along with a zimmer frame, crossed my path on the pavement, causing me to slow down and change direction....thus losing vital seconds.
As I brushed passed the poor old lady, out of sheer frustration and panic I bellowed "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVE!!!!!!", about 2 inches from her ear......I think every head on Victoria Street turned in my direction, but I did not care, I had to get to work, I could have caused the frail old lady a heart attack or stroke, but I did not care, and I did not look back to see if she was OK.
Frightening old ladies nearly to death whilst on the way to work was bordering on madness, and not to mention shameful.
I quit my job a month or two later, and have never regretted it.
Little old lady...I'm sorry.
(Wed 30th Nov 2005, 11:24, More)
» Mad Stuff You've Done To Get Someone To Sleep With You
Sad
I've read most of the replies to the QOTW so far, and I can only say that they make me feel genuinely, and truely sad to my very core.
So many of the posts seem to be a rehash of the same tired theme. Any of you read "Brave New World"? It's sobering when the world increasingly starts to mirror that which is described in the pages of a story/social parody.
I remember when I first met my wife. I just wanted to be her friend.
(Mon 16th Apr 2007, 16:52, More)
Sad
I've read most of the replies to the QOTW so far, and I can only say that they make me feel genuinely, and truely sad to my very core.
So many of the posts seem to be a rehash of the same tired theme. Any of you read "Brave New World"? It's sobering when the world increasingly starts to mirror that which is described in the pages of a story/social parody.
I remember when I first met my wife. I just wanted to be her friend.
(Mon 16th Apr 2007, 16:52, More)
» Why I was late
Not me, but a friend
Many years ago a friend and I were both working as industrial temps at the same company.
One Thursday night, both feeling pretty fed up with our lot, we decided to partake in a few beers. Several hours later, after much drowning of sorrows, we decided to stagger home...before going to our separate flea pits my friends final philosophical words were, "Uuuu knowww what'sss great about usss, mate? We jusss don't give a f**kkk!".
Fast forward a few hours, and I awake the next morning at around 10:00 in my beer stained, stinking clothing from the day before, feeling somewhat worse for wear. After several hungover moments, the realisation hits me that it's Friday morning, and obviously, I'm an hour late for work. After spraying my night/day time attire with deoderant, and a quick swill with some mouth wash, I'm out the door, into the car, and on my way to work.
Being the kind soul I am, I realise that my friend is probably in the same predicament as I, so I head round to his house to offer him a lift to work. When I get there I can't get any reply, so I figure he has probably managed to crawl out of bed and make it to work already.
I make it to work at about 10:30 and make my execuses, boss is fine about, and all is forgotten. At around lunch time, by now feeling pretty shattered, I decide to take a wander round to the other side of the grim industrial estate (situated slap bang next to the M25...not particularly soothing for a hungover headache) to find out how my friend was bearing up. I couldn't find him, and so I decided to give him a call.
Me: You alright mate.
Friend: Urrrgghh.....No.....I feel rubbish.
Me: Are you not coming to work?
Friend: Er...No....I've been sacked.
To cut a rambling, hungover conversation short, he had called into work to say that he was not going to make it, and his excuse was "I have an appointment at the American embassy in London, I've applied for a green card, and it has come through...oh...and I'm probably going to emmigrate."
Which, while it is true that he had applied for a green card for the USA some months ago, telling a company for whom you're working that:
a) Rather than coming to work you've decided to nip down to the American Embassy
b) About to emmigrate
Doesn't seem the most conducive for holding onto a position of employment. Also, it would have been easier to just say he had the flu.
EDIT: He spent the next 6 months sitting around in his pants playing Medal of Honour before emmigrating.
EDIT EDIT: I quit working at the same company a month later, I sepnt the next 6 months between other industrial temp. work, sitting around in my pants. One weekday afternoon we took our boredom and what little money we had left and went to the Galaxy Centre in Luton (Grreat!) to watch a movie, after which we spent the remainder of our money on the arcade next to the cinema. At about 14:30, after our funds were exhausted, and some wandering around aimlessy past chavs, single mothers and drunks, my friend said to me "Jesus mate.....let's go home.....I feel so unemployed".
(Tue 3rd Jul 2007, 12:56, More)
Not me, but a friend
Many years ago a friend and I were both working as industrial temps at the same company.
One Thursday night, both feeling pretty fed up with our lot, we decided to partake in a few beers. Several hours later, after much drowning of sorrows, we decided to stagger home...before going to our separate flea pits my friends final philosophical words were, "Uuuu knowww what'sss great about usss, mate? We jusss don't give a f**kkk!".
Fast forward a few hours, and I awake the next morning at around 10:00 in my beer stained, stinking clothing from the day before, feeling somewhat worse for wear. After several hungover moments, the realisation hits me that it's Friday morning, and obviously, I'm an hour late for work. After spraying my night/day time attire with deoderant, and a quick swill with some mouth wash, I'm out the door, into the car, and on my way to work.
Being the kind soul I am, I realise that my friend is probably in the same predicament as I, so I head round to his house to offer him a lift to work. When I get there I can't get any reply, so I figure he has probably managed to crawl out of bed and make it to work already.
I make it to work at about 10:30 and make my execuses, boss is fine about, and all is forgotten. At around lunch time, by now feeling pretty shattered, I decide to take a wander round to the other side of the grim industrial estate (situated slap bang next to the M25...not particularly soothing for a hungover headache) to find out how my friend was bearing up. I couldn't find him, and so I decided to give him a call.
Me: You alright mate.
Friend: Urrrgghh.....No.....I feel rubbish.
Me: Are you not coming to work?
Friend: Er...No....I've been sacked.
To cut a rambling, hungover conversation short, he had called into work to say that he was not going to make it, and his excuse was "I have an appointment at the American embassy in London, I've applied for a green card, and it has come through...oh...and I'm probably going to emmigrate."
Which, while it is true that he had applied for a green card for the USA some months ago, telling a company for whom you're working that:
a) Rather than coming to work you've decided to nip down to the American Embassy
b) About to emmigrate
Doesn't seem the most conducive for holding onto a position of employment. Also, it would have been easier to just say he had the flu.
EDIT: He spent the next 6 months sitting around in his pants playing Medal of Honour before emmigrating.
EDIT EDIT: I quit working at the same company a month later, I sepnt the next 6 months between other industrial temp. work, sitting around in my pants. One weekday afternoon we took our boredom and what little money we had left and went to the Galaxy Centre in Luton (Grreat!) to watch a movie, after which we spent the remainder of our money on the arcade next to the cinema. At about 14:30, after our funds were exhausted, and some wandering around aimlessy past chavs, single mothers and drunks, my friend said to me "Jesus mate.....let's go home.....I feel so unemployed".
(Tue 3rd Jul 2007, 12:56, More)
» Birthdays
Pathetic
Best Birthday template:
Was with partner/friends/family/other mindless cretins, for birthday, for big night out, had temporary loss of bowel/bladder/other control, due to drink/drugs/other, which was very embarassing, and very humourous. Ran away for being a jackass whilst pissing in my pants.
Worst Birthday template:
Spent birthday, alone | dumped by partner/injured whilst drinking/taking drugs/infidelity, due to never having an original thought in my entire pointless life, as well as being a partially functioning semi-moron dependent on substance abuse for social skills. God I'm a cruel, capricious, selfish, cretin, and my friends/family are worse...but we couldn't help but laugh.
Ho de sodding ho.
(Copy for other b3ta questions)
(Tue 13th Dec 2005, 16:04, More)
Pathetic
Best Birthday template:
Was with partner/friends/family/other mindless cretins, for birthday, for big night out, had temporary loss of bowel/bladder/other control, due to drink/drugs/other, which was very embarassing, and very humourous. Ran away for being a jackass whilst pissing in my pants.
Worst Birthday template:
Spent birthday, alone | dumped by partner/injured whilst drinking/taking drugs/infidelity, due to never having an original thought in my entire pointless life, as well as being a partially functioning semi-moron dependent on substance abuse for social skills. God I'm a cruel, capricious, selfish, cretin, and my friends/family are worse...but we couldn't help but laugh.
Ho de sodding ho.
(Copy for other b3ta questions)
(Tue 13th Dec 2005, 16:04, More)