» Mistaken Identity

Yeah . . . right
Most days, in the course of gainful employment, I get mistaken for someone who gives a shit
(Tue 5th Jun 2007, 20:15, More)

» Pet Stories

Sloppy's mess
We used to have a pet dog Sloppy who was really gross. His favourite thing was to eat his shit, then sick it up then pour the sick into his arse-end via a funnel, then shit it out again, then eat it all, then sick it back up, then funnel it back into his arse, then shit it out, then eat it, then sick it all back up again. This could go on for hours.

How we laughed. And retched.

Then my parents bought a TV and life was never the same again
(Thu 14th Jun 2007, 11:18, More)

» The most childish thing you've done as an adult

Probably not THE most childish
but probably the most recent.

I'm rather partial to sneaking up on my partner and jumping out on him, ie if I get home and he's in the shower, or not heard me come in, the shoes come off and the creaky floorboards are avoided.

A few weeks ago, he was on a work-type do out, had a few drinkies, came home late. I'd been home alone all night and had just thought about getting ready to go to bed when I saw the taxi pull up outside (the road's down a load of steps from our flat).
I snuck out to the hallway (we have a non-traditional layout here: you come in through the lounge, bedroom to one side, hallway to rest of flat to the other) and hid behind the hallway curtain in the dark. In he came, light on in the lounge, heard him glance into the bedroom and then charge through to the hall.
Of course my timing was executed perfectly. He did not expect this in the slightest and granted me the split-second utter panicshockfear face I had hoped for, then backed away looking pissed off - for longer than usual.

Apparently he'd come in, concerned the door was still unlocked at this late hour, no lights on, seen that I was sat not at the computer, nor in bed (the usual haunts).
Noticed a note next to the computer.
Realised that for most of the last week I'd been at rock bottom, crying constantly and querying the point of life (had a miscarriage and my world fell apart).

He'd thought the worst and imagined I'd gone and done myself in, half-expecting to find me on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood or something. Not to find a cackling idiot half-wrapped in curtain pointing and howling with laughter.

Poor boy.

NB, in no way am I making light of suicide, I actually think the fact he thought I'd have done this was really sad. I'm more amazed that for a couple so close, we were so worlds apart that night.
(Fri 18th Sep 2009, 10:34, More)

» Accidental innuendo

title?
Oh, goody, a topic I can post on, thanks to my mother, who has been blessed with the female equivalent of Finbarr Saunders for a daughter as well as her tendency to engage the mouth before the brain. Thanks to this, my mother is now a touch more clued up on expressions and practices than she really ever wanted to be.
My mums lovely, a really sweet lady, a little sheltered perhaps, tends to see the good in people and tries really hard just to make sure everyone is OK and looked after. You know the type. My dads a bit more on to it, and my brother and sister, well, we’re all pretty filthy-minded. Just to set give you an idea of the dynamic.

So the first time my bloke meets the fambly. Him and me are reasonably serious as a couple, and he wants to make a good impression, so he’s on best behaviour. Poor bloke, dealing with my family in one meeting.
All’s going well so far, we’re sitting in the living room, we’ve had a nice cuppa and some bikkies, my mum has asked my bloke all about his job, his parents, a bit about his childhood, and all is going swimmingly, until, my mum, obviously scraping the barrel slightly to sustain the conversational flow comes out with the immortal line . . . “So . . . . Tom . . . have you ever had a dog?”
Poor bloke didn’t know what to say, especially with the rest of us blatantly crying with laughter. It would have been quite rude, he thought, to join in to complete a room of people laughing at my mum. At least the first time he met her. Bless.

But it gets better. Not content with that little faux pas, fast forward an hour or so (wibbly lines) and we’re all sitting round the dinner table; Mum’s serving up, but can’t quite reach what she needs to . . . “excuse me, Tom . . . while I just come in front of you”. Again he had the commendable ability to keep a straight face as, again, we collectively herniate around him.
_____________________________________________________
Another time . . . with reference to quickly walking the dog down the alley way behind our garden (good old northern streets with the alleyways separating the houses from one road to the next) as opposed to a decent 20 minute walkie . . .

“ I’m just going to take the dog up the back” (I actually have dubious photographic evidence of this act, scarily enough)



Oh, there are loads more but I can’t remember them, as is my fashion. I’m loving this thread though, definite tea-spitting at the screen here being a regular occurrence.



To comment on length would just be wrong in this topic.
(Sun 15th Jun 2008, 10:36, More)

» Phobias

Toilets
I used to be scared of getting my arse stuck in the toilet as a kid.

And of when the bog got blocked and the water would rise (not usually from my toddler-poos if I'm honest). The thought of the water overflowing, with bits of poo in it, on to the floor, was the ultimate heebiejeebies.
The thought of the water suddenly rising, while I'm sat crapping, and touching my bum, urrrrggggh. And getting stuck in the seat, while the water continues to rise.

I used to dread going to peoples houses who had those toilets with the high water level. Its hard to relax the ringpiece and let nature take its course when you're dealing with your irrational childish sphincter-constraining fears. I had bad dreams about toilets and everything (talking to me with their lid lifting up and down).

Could have been worse, I could have been born French and have to use a bidet.
(Fri 11th Apr 2008, 0:25, More)