» Spoooky Coincidence

Divine Intervention
A couple of summers ago, I had just got together with my current boyfriend. We'd been seeing each other for a couple of weeks and things were going swimmingly ie. loads of deep & meaningful convos, hand holding & kissing.

I was due to go on holiday, and in spite of my excitement, I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself, as I'd have to be apart from my newly beloved for 10 WHOLE DAYS!!

Anyway the Tuesday afternoon of the flight I trundled off to the station, suitcase in hand to meet the mate I was flying with. And who should I see walking out of the station but my precious other half?

I should point out here that he works in Central London as an IT engineer, whereas I live well into the suburbs, and at this point he had never been to my home town.

I did a bit of a double take then legged it over to him to ask what he was doing walking out of the station the exact moment I was walking in. Turns out one of the buildings his company owns - get this - had been struck by lightening (!) and all the systems totally f***ed, so he was on his way to do some on site engineering.

We got to have a last kiss and cuddle and off I went with a smile on my face. The fact that he had been there at that moment, due to a lightening strike, pretty much convinced me (a total cynic i might add) that some things are meant to be, and 18 months later we're as happy as ever.

Soppy i know, but click 'I like this' if you believe in true love ;)
(Fri 9th Feb 2007, 9:53, More)

» School Trips

Duke of Edinburgh
For some reason it was drummed into us that D of E was a really good idea and would be a really useful thing to have on your UCAS form/CV - kids it ain't - do you think it's a coincidence that it's patron is the most sadistic old bastard the royal family has ever known (except perhaps Henry VIII)?

My own Duke of Edinburgh experience was great. On our first hike I was off on the day we chose tent partners, and my bastard friends hadn't thought to include me in their tent, so i was saddled with the resident outcast - you know the type every school has one and this one had serious hygiene problems, coughed up phlegm all the time, spoke and farted in her sleep and copied everyone in a desperate attempt to be liked.

So after 10 miles we reached camp. Tents were pitched, hot dogs were boiled and vodka was drunk from the flask I had brought along. My two mates had been allocated a two man tent so there was no way we'd all have fitted, but such was my desperation not to sleep with 'it' I curled up in their porch in 2 degree temperatures.

Needless I got no sleep and was bitten to fuck by ants. Still better than listening to 'mummy, mummy, father christmas' and farts all night. 'it' also had an asthma attack that night apparently so I felt quite blessed to have had only ants for company.

The fun and games continued on the next hike, where I actually managed to share with normal people:

We were flashed and leered at by an old pervert which we caught on our video diary and showed in assembly.

We found the diary of a staff member which recounted in mind bendingly graphic detail how she would masturbate with a red hairbrush. Said hairbrush was also discovered, but naturally left well alone, but the diary was comandeered, photocopied and spread. She left soon after.

Rumours were spread that bugs were living in the toilets of the campsite which would stick in your hair and never come out. Obviously I felt the appropriate course of action was not to urinate for the duration of the two day trip. At the end of day 1 I tripped over a tree root and cracked my kneecap on a rock, fracturing it in many places (though I only discovered this later). I completed the last 5 miles with a bastardised kneecap, a 4 stone pack on my back and only a stick to keep myself upright. I emerged a hero - only to wet myself in the pub at the end, in front of my and everybody elses parents.

No one ever apologised for length, but 15 miles is a f*cking long way
(Fri 8th Dec 2006, 13:05, More)

» Body Mods

Thank f*** it wasn't permanant
As the proud owner of 5 tattoos, I can only thank the powers that be that I was nowhere near anywhere that could provide the real thing... otherwise I may have had to embark on a lifetime of celibacy...

A couple of years ago, having consumed a not incosiderable amount of alcohol, charlie and ket, I wound up in a club I regularly frequent. Pretty average for a Saturday night, the only difference being the venue in question, for whatever reason had set up a booth providing spray tattoos. Huzzah! thinks I and merrily handed over my £6 (cheap at twice the price!) before setting about the task of choosing my design. There was all the usual, twattish, but not heinously bad stuff - chinese/japanese/indiscrinate language symbols purporting to mean 'friends' and 'love' (more likely 'gullible' and 'fool' but i digress) and your typical celtic chavtastic tramp stamps. Any of these, while regrettable, I could have lived with, but no, not for me... what did I choose? that's right reader, what else but a roughly 7' by 5' stencilled design of Robbie Williams. On my stomach. At the time this of course seemed like the best idea i had had and possibly would ever have and off i went showing it to anyone who didn't run away from the gurner pulling its top up (not many). If i had died that night I would have died happy.

However when I was jolted out of my k hole the next morning by my alarm signalling the advent of my glamourous supermarket job, nothing could have alarmed me more than having stokes finest winking up at me. It took 6 days to come off. and I hate Robbie Williams.

The lesson? hallucinogens and body art don't mix, however temporary...

Apologise for length? i bet Robbie doesn't need to.
(Fri 1st Dec 2006, 10:04, More)

» When were you last really scared?

Who needs enemies, eh?
I was at my mates house a couple of years ago watching the classic 'Nightmare on Elm Street'. I had previously seen the film aged 6 ( what was my mother thinking when she rented that one?!) and it had done some serious damage to my mental health ie. many Freddy related dreams, convincing myself he lived in our cellar etc. etc.

However at the age of 20, it didn't seem so scary, I mean he's not real is he. Anyway after a few hours of drinking and recreational drug use, it was time for bed. So off I popped into said friend's bedroom and was soon sleeping the sleep of the ketamine addled drunk. Lovely.

A while later, I'm awoken by scratching and open my eyes to see a hand sillhoueted on the wall. I think you can all guess that the hand appeared to be sporting blades for fingers. F*CK, thinks I, and then more rationally, calm down, you're in a k hole, you're hallucinating, just go back to sleep.

So I close my eyes and it works, just as i'm settling again, theres something touching my face. Eyes snap open. And I'm not hallucinating. Real live Freddy glove on my face about to gore me.

I close my eyes, start screaming and prepare to die bloodily.

And of course then the lights come on, and my so-called mate is there waving his joke Freddy glove, likely popping veins with laughing so hard. Cock.
(Fri 23rd Feb 2007, 12:16, More)

» Failed

I really do think I failed but...
... the examiner disagreed.

A level english, the night before my last paper.

Instead of doing the sensible thing and revising I got swept up in the glory of all those around me who had got through their exams and proceeded down to the local public house, got friendly with the barman, coerced him into a lock in for me and my mates and as thanks got jiggy with him on the roof terrace - like you do.

The morning of said exam dawns and i do the walk of shame to my home (luckily further down my street) change, and wend my way merrily to school, feeling a little the worse for wear.

The cold hard reality of the situation dawns on me when outside the exam hall everyone is running around bleating quotes at eachother and intently studying their copious notes. And here am I having done precisely Fuck All.

I scrawled 5 pages of bullshit, inserting my own quotes (definitely nothing jane austen ever dreamt up) and left.

So... results day dawns and I'm feeling a bit fucked off with myself as I was predicted a pretty good grade for English and this might seriously interfere with my university plans.

I open the envelope with some trepidation and scanned down the page. It was one of those moments you can only dream about. Manna dropped by the gods into my lap. The examiner (who must have seen through my bluster about 2 seconds in and sussed the cause) had obviously been impressed by my brass neck to turn in a paper so shite and given me full marks. FULL MARKS! Proof that every now and then miracles do happen. I got a B overall.
(Thu 11th Jan 2007, 15:52, More)