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» Stuff I've found
Absolute freeloaders
Students find many ways to cope with the pitiful student loan. Some live off the Tesco Value range. Some get a part-time job. Some sell their virginity on ebay (well, a couple). My freshers flat... we looted from M&S. They'd throw away perfectly decent food into their mercifully unguarded bins each day, and every so often we'd pay a visit and pick up a loaf of bread to freeze, some almost-expired custard to feast on, or a ready meal to blast in our tempermental microwave. We took some roses on one occassion, using empty beer bottles with water as makeshift vases until the roses died (the next day).
One evening, under cover of darkness, we lifted the lid of the bin. Four eager faces gazed into the depths, noses screwed against the faintly stale smell. A glimmer from one corner - the silver lid of a glass jar, filled with a beige semi-solid substance.
"Honey!" we exclaimed, like eager children. Oh, we could afford cheap honey from Tesco - but this wasn't just honey, it was M&S honey (sorry, I couldn't resist). How glorious this would be spread on a lightly toasted piece of white Tesco value bread in the mornings, with a cup of Tesco value tea. We could almost smell it, almost taste it. We had to have it.
However, not much had been thrown out that day and the bin was nearly empty. Our arms just couldn't reach down to the jar. After a considerable amount of effort, we were on the brink of giving up when J said, "F*ck it, I'll just hop in". Bent over the edge, he lowered his entire upper body into the bin and proudly produced the sacred jar. Honey!
...No. Seafood dressing.
Probably not the best, but definitely the funniest thing I've ever found.
(Mon 10th Nov 2008, 0:42, More)
Absolute freeloaders
Students find many ways to cope with the pitiful student loan. Some live off the Tesco Value range. Some get a part-time job. Some sell their virginity on ebay (well, a couple). My freshers flat... we looted from M&S. They'd throw away perfectly decent food into their mercifully unguarded bins each day, and every so often we'd pay a visit and pick up a loaf of bread to freeze, some almost-expired custard to feast on, or a ready meal to blast in our tempermental microwave. We took some roses on one occassion, using empty beer bottles with water as makeshift vases until the roses died (the next day).
One evening, under cover of darkness, we lifted the lid of the bin. Four eager faces gazed into the depths, noses screwed against the faintly stale smell. A glimmer from one corner - the silver lid of a glass jar, filled with a beige semi-solid substance.
"Honey!" we exclaimed, like eager children. Oh, we could afford cheap honey from Tesco - but this wasn't just honey, it was M&S honey (sorry, I couldn't resist). How glorious this would be spread on a lightly toasted piece of white Tesco value bread in the mornings, with a cup of Tesco value tea. We could almost smell it, almost taste it. We had to have it.
However, not much had been thrown out that day and the bin was nearly empty. Our arms just couldn't reach down to the jar. After a considerable amount of effort, we were on the brink of giving up when J said, "F*ck it, I'll just hop in". Bent over the edge, he lowered his entire upper body into the bin and proudly produced the sacred jar. Honey!
...No. Seafood dressing.
Probably not the best, but definitely the funniest thing I've ever found.
(Mon 10th Nov 2008, 0:42, More)
» Family codes and rituals
Dun dun duuuuun
My dad has many strange quirks (we call him Captain Mannerism) including saying 'shirtly' instead of 'shortly', singing stupid songs to me even though I'm 20 ('Hippity hoppity hippity hop... flippity floppity flippity flop' doing bizarre bunny-like dancing), calling me 'poppet', 'sprocket' and 'chick-pea' despite aforementioned age. And so on. But the one that goes furtherest back is when any sort of soap or drama ends and the credits roll, he'll announce to the room
"AND ON THAT BOMBSHELL."
He will also do it after The X Factor.
In a similar vein, my grandmother warbles her way through the soap theme tunes (Emmerdale is particularly excrutiating), made funnier by her incredibly strong RP accent.
On the other side of the family, my great aunt - 95 this year - has soft toys called The Creatures. These are two vile teddy and bunny things (with another teddy addition a few years ago around her 90th) who are about 40 years old and haven't been washed. They're pretty grim. When we go to see her she feeds us year-old cake - "I can't rememeber whether this was made last November or the November before..." IN MARCH - and makes us kiss The Creatures. We, seasoned veterans, know not to actually kiss them as they're probably poison. My aunt's* fiance didn't... I'm surprised he's still alive.
*That's a different aunt. My great aunt is not a gereatric bride.
(Fri 21st Nov 2008, 22:09, More)
Dun dun duuuuun
My dad has many strange quirks (we call him Captain Mannerism) including saying 'shirtly' instead of 'shortly', singing stupid songs to me even though I'm 20 ('Hippity hoppity hippity hop... flippity floppity flippity flop' doing bizarre bunny-like dancing), calling me 'poppet', 'sprocket' and 'chick-pea' despite aforementioned age. And so on. But the one that goes furtherest back is when any sort of soap or drama ends and the credits roll, he'll announce to the room
"AND ON THAT BOMBSHELL."
He will also do it after The X Factor.
In a similar vein, my grandmother warbles her way through the soap theme tunes (Emmerdale is particularly excrutiating), made funnier by her incredibly strong RP accent.
On the other side of the family, my great aunt - 95 this year - has soft toys called The Creatures. These are two vile teddy and bunny things (with another teddy addition a few years ago around her 90th) who are about 40 years old and haven't been washed. They're pretty grim. When we go to see her she feeds us year-old cake - "I can't rememeber whether this was made last November or the November before..." IN MARCH - and makes us kiss The Creatures. We, seasoned veterans, know not to actually kiss them as they're probably poison. My aunt's* fiance didn't... I'm surprised he's still alive.
*That's a different aunt. My great aunt is not a gereatric bride.
(Fri 21st Nov 2008, 22:09, More)
» Siblings
My brother
He's 18 months older than me and we used to get on like a house on fire as kids. As we've got older, we've grown further apart, mainly due to his being out all the time and going to university, and me moving away from our native England to Scotland for university.
I have a few gripes with him, but the biggest is his sense of humour. As in, it's crap. Reams and reams of dialogue from stand-ups, online cartoons and sit-coms can spew forth from his mouth, getting louder and louder and more high-picthed and desperately funny. His Dr Cox impression annoys me most - probably because it's not an impression, more lifting the entire style and passing it off as himself. But rarely does he make a joke he's not seen 1000 times before. It gets wearing when he laughs heartily and all you can say is, "That's Peep Show, isn't it?".
Oh, and everything's funnier if you shout it, apparently. And repeat it at least 100 times. He doesn't quite get the concept of 'familiaity breeds contempt'.
He also has no concept of Considering Other People so loud music and drinking/eating everything in the firdge isn't unusual (we had six pints of milk in the fridge on Christmas Eve to see the five of us through the next few days. He drank 4 of those pints by Christmas morning). I do hate to stoop to this level but his personal hygiene is... not the best. "I've been wearing these underpants for three days solid!" he proudly announced to me at a party when I was 18 and he was 20. How his girlfriend bears it I'll never know.
My boyfriend and his brother speak on the phone every few days, mostly about the football, but at least they still speak. More than one Facebook message a term is unusual for my brother and me. I wish we were closer but it is difficult when you just can't bear his sense of humour.
(Fri 26th Dec 2008, 19:20, More)
My brother
He's 18 months older than me and we used to get on like a house on fire as kids. As we've got older, we've grown further apart, mainly due to his being out all the time and going to university, and me moving away from our native England to Scotland for university.
I have a few gripes with him, but the biggest is his sense of humour. As in, it's crap. Reams and reams of dialogue from stand-ups, online cartoons and sit-coms can spew forth from his mouth, getting louder and louder and more high-picthed and desperately funny. His Dr Cox impression annoys me most - probably because it's not an impression, more lifting the entire style and passing it off as himself. But rarely does he make a joke he's not seen 1000 times before. It gets wearing when he laughs heartily and all you can say is, "That's Peep Show, isn't it?".
Oh, and everything's funnier if you shout it, apparently. And repeat it at least 100 times. He doesn't quite get the concept of 'familiaity breeds contempt'.
He also has no concept of Considering Other People so loud music and drinking/eating everything in the firdge isn't unusual (we had six pints of milk in the fridge on Christmas Eve to see the five of us through the next few days. He drank 4 of those pints by Christmas morning). I do hate to stoop to this level but his personal hygiene is... not the best. "I've been wearing these underpants for three days solid!" he proudly announced to me at a party when I was 18 and he was 20. How his girlfriend bears it I'll never know.
My boyfriend and his brother speak on the phone every few days, mostly about the football, but at least they still speak. More than one Facebook message a term is unusual for my brother and me. I wish we were closer but it is difficult when you just can't bear his sense of humour.
(Fri 26th Dec 2008, 19:20, More)