b3ta.com user Drunken Sod
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I've known about b3ta since for ever (which is an awfully long time), and have wasted many hours laughing at it's boards and compo entries, so I thought I'd better join up and give 'em some cash. Put back a little for the smiles I've taken.

I've done many funny things, but usually they don't fit well into QOTW subjects, so I don't have much excuse to write them in (I realise this doesn't stop many people).

I can shop, but I don't have the patience. So mainly I lurk.

I have a myspazz, but I think it's a load of gay, so you can't see it (I'm allowed to use the words "spazz" and "gay" as derogatives because ALL my friends are homosexuals with learning difficulties, which makes it all okay).

Recent front page messages:


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Best answers to questions:

» When were you last really scared?

Chalk
Last year I was out dry-tooling the chalk at Telscombe cliffs in Sussex. You can't climb chalk like regular rock 'cos it's too soft, so you have to use ice tools (axes and crampons), and none of the routes are bolted for sport climbing 'cos it collapses so regularly there's no point.

Anyway, I'm about 40m up having passed the overhung crux, feeling pretty chuffed when the axe I'm rather relying on with my right hand levers off a chunk of chalk which immediately plummets towards the ground with me desperately trying to catch it, falling falling falling...

Not the first time I've taken a big fall so I'm not too worried on the way down, until I feel my gear placements being stripped out overhead. Cack, I was relying on them to stop death (which is bad for you), I fall back past the overhang and thank holy cock, come to a stop with about 2m clearance to the ground, eye level with my belay who's gone whiter than the rock.

Alive I thinks, only to look up and see about a kilo of ironwork (the stripped gear) screaming back down the rope towards my face (nooooo!) so I lean back quickly to avoid face to metal interface only for a large cam to whizz past my face, and smack me square in the testes. Which hurts (if you want to see how much this hurts, kick a post-pubescent gentleman between the legs and he'll tell you). I wept like a yeast infected minge. That was quite a scary experience.
(Sun 25th Feb 2007, 17:40, More)

» Childhood Ambitions

Whatever
When I was a nipper I wanted to be a vampire, I used to avoid sunlight and style my hair into a point at the front, my parents wouldn't let me file my teeth into fangs though.

Then I learned that vampires don't exist, so I decided I wanted to be a gorilla.

I'm still nowhere nearer becoming a gorilla although I did grow a beard once, and I farted :(
(Sat 31st Mar 2007, 10:19, More)

» Cross Dressing

Not technically cross dressing...
I went to a "tarts & vicars" party (highly unimaginative theme, but not mine) recently. Of course, most of the lads went as tarts and most of the women went as, err... tarts! I thought there was going to be poor representation of genuine male tarts, so I went as a rentboy (think hotpants and eyeliner). It was a thoroughly lovely evening for all concerned, but due to the hosts occupation, a number of the guests were academically challenged labourers. I was chatting in the kitchen to a bunch of them when it turned out they thought I was actually a bummer! What sort of person goes to a fancy dress party as themselves for flock's sake I asked them?!

(The story hereafter is entirely fictional and NSFW)

Anyway, it turned out they were all massive YMCA loving bum funners themselves and they took turns to push their swollen members into my rusty sheriff's badge. I fought very hard but apparently they were well into "strugglers" and I got man juice all over me, it was horrible, eventually I gained the upper hand when they were relaxing with post-coital cigarillos and I killed them all. Secure in my sexuality I went home and relaxed, reflecting on what a surreal evening it had been; being penetrated by six strapping transvestites.

The end.
(Sun 18th Mar 2007, 14:18, More)

» Failed

Hills.
February, a couple of years ago me n' a mate were attempting Tower Ridge on the north side of Ben Nevis, about 5 or so hours in the weather closed in and we couldn't see more than about two metres away so we were forced to turn back. I blipped a point on my GPS before we left though, turns out we were only 30 metres from the summit (and clear skies) which we did the next day up the tourist route. Bugger.
(Tue 9th Jan 2007, 21:12, More)