Plastic fantastic
When I was about 12 my parents took me to visit my cousin who was a couple of years younger than me. My uncle hadn't realised I was going to be there so had organised a babysitter for my cousin while all the oldies went out for barn dance/cheese and wine/fonsue party (whatever they did in the 70s).

I was old enough to have been left alone and could have sat for him on my own but the babysitter was already there. I was mortified to think that I would be babysat when I was about to become a teenager however...

She was a local girl of about 14 I suppose. To say that my rapidly developing hormones starting pumping was an understatement. Said cousin was put to bed on time and then the babysitter and I began to enjoy a night to remember: she was beautiful (which in retrospect probably means developed) funny, engaging and assumed I was about her age so didn't have that disdain that teenagers have for younger children.

We talked for ages then things rapidly heated up and we moved to the next level...to the snooker room. My uncle is rich so had a full blown games room with a snooker table and assorted games paraphenalia: We had hours of fun throwing darts, pre-tend boxing using the punch bag, playing snooker, table tennis, cards. I think there was even an Atari games console. We laughed, drank (ice cream sodas), ate fine food (monster munch and leftover chinese) What a night. Doing all the things I would do during the day with my cousin but with a beautiful girl who had become my vision of the perfect woman.

At the end of the evening I just didn't want to go home but my parents arrived and that was it.

On the way home my parents asked me about the babysitter. More specifically they asked whether I thought it was a bit weird. I hadn't got a clue what they were going on about. "What was weird?" I asked. Well, didn't her plastic arm look a bit funny?

I met her again at a family do shortly afterwards and lo and behold she had a completely prosthetic arm with a plastic 'formerly belonged on a dummy from Burton's manequin' hand at the end of it. I'd played snooker with her and not noticed FFS! My innocent mind and raging hormones had blinded me to any imperfection.

(Incidentally, arm or none, I still would have! I've also just realised why I find the one-armed present of CBeebies particularly attractive - and her stump is not the nicest!)
(Gusofnavarone always makes a map of france from sarnies, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 16:34, 6 replies)

Inspired by the Bigfella's story
I am reminded of one occasion when Nitrous junior was about 10 months old.

Some friends of ours, who were expecting, offered to look after Junior whilst we went out for the afternoon. Aparently, they wanted the practice!!!!

I nearlly said, "Oh don't worry, when your little bundle of joy comes along, you'll get loads of practice!" But I stopped myself - One thing you realise, when you become a parent, is that time spent as a couple, doing coupley stuff, like going to the flicks or out for a meal, is something of a rare treat - so, of course, we lept at the chance to escape our little darling for a few hours.

Mrs Nitrous and I had a lovely time, we went to the pub for lunch, then to the cinema, rounded off by skinny-lattes at the local coffee shop. When we returned home, our friends were wearing that haunted look you might associate with someone who has just had a particularly unpleasent glimpse of the future (Think Christopher Walken in the Dead Zone). Apparently, the little scamp had screamed the house down from the moment we left, to about a minute before we returned. Weirdly, they never offered to baby sit for us again. I wonder why?
(Nitrous Nitrous, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 16:29, Reply)

Not babysitting as such
But a lady walked into my office recently with her baby, and when she needed her hands to sign some documents *made* me hold it.

I was closer to shitting myself than the baby.

I don't think I've got what it takes to be a babysitter, too afraid I'll drop them.
(Pat_Gash, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 16:17, 9 replies)

This...
Just pretend the following is about me:

www.break.com/usercontent/2009/6/the-young-hot-chick-babysitter-749011.html
( Regger, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 15:51, 1 reply)

The Builder and his wife
I used to know a charming builder and his wife who loved babysitting..

So Fred and Rose, If your reading this, Frightfullybored says Hi!
(frightfullybored, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 15:45, Reply)

Industrial Scale Babysitting
My mother and older sister used to work at a day care center for mentally retarded children. This was back in the day when they were still called mentally retarded. I think the term nowadays is developmentally disabled. Medically the children were classified as Down's Syndrome, infantile autism, etc., but operationally two important classifications were eaters and runners. The eaters would eat anything, and I mean anything, such as cleaning gloves. The runners would bolt out the door at any opportunity and would be down the street in a flash. Fun times.
(uncle_bud is not the jelly roll king., Fri 29 Oct 2010, 15:32, Reply)

Not because of me...........
But a girl I used to babysit for, lets call her T, robbed thousands of pounds off my dad when she grew up and worked for him in his shop, when he had a shop, he doesnt have a shop now beacuse someone stole thousands of pounds off him. He caught her and she paid some (what she admitted to) of the money back, I say "she" her Nan did.

She had a trick with the Card reader where she would put through items on a credit card then refund the money back to herself, or something, I never understood it myself, but anyway, she was a cow.

She's fat now I believe, and my dad does a job he enjoys, so everything turned out OK in the end.
(superkitty is neither super nor a kitty, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 15:31, 2 replies)

Bored.
Some weekends, when I had little to do, I'd get a baby sitter and go out for the evening.

...even though I didn't have the kids.

Oh, the fun when I got back and asked where my daughters were.
(dchurch bah, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 14:46, 7 replies)

My babysitter
Was a fella named Paul. Sorry, no tales of a young boy lusting over the sitter here, but he was an accomplished and amazing piano player.

I remember sitting hearing him play the piano to us when he babysat, and he was damn good. So good, in fact, he was hired to do the entire score for a feature film starring Helen Mirren. I remember even now the big show everyone around him made of his huge accomplishment, and his rather well-to-do parents were telling everybody they could find about their talented son. Until they watched the movie. It was called "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife And Her Lover". I hear they weren't best pleased after they saw it.

For anyone who's not had the pleasure, I'll give you a little taster of the first five minutes I could stomach when I watched it all those years later, where The Cook force feeds someone dog shit after giving him a pretty savage beating. It's an 'arty' film, with IMDB describing the plot as "The wife of a barbaric crime boss engages in a secretive romance with a gentle bookseller between meals at her husband's restaurant. Food, colour coding, sex, murder, torture and cannibalism are the exotic fare in this beautifully filmed but brutally uncompromising modern fable which has been interpreted as an allegory for Thatcherism." Not for the faint hearted!

www.imdb.com/title/tt0097108/
(Mr_Lew, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 14:35, 4 replies)

Daughter of the Devil
Recently Thebiglassie and I were looking after her brother's kids - a 3 year old boy and a seven year old devil-girl.

She averaged 4 MAJOR tantrums a day and was generally a nasty little piece of work. She calmed down as the weekend progressed, mainly down to two things:

1) We ignored her. Completely and utterly ignored the screams, taunts, yells and tears...until

2) When she screamed that she wanted an ice-cream I screamed back at teh top of my voice that I wanted a beer, but couldn't have one because I was stuck with her. I out tantrumed her.

That shut her up. It may not have been great babysitting skills, but was better than hitting her over the head with a shovel which was also very tempting.

When their parents arrived back the missus and I stood up and left our flat and went straight to the pub.

I'm not going to have kids. Can't risk the results of the missus' similar genes.
(Thebigfella, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 14:30, 3 replies)

Don't look out of the window ...
I used to babysit for my next door neighbour Mads and her husband from when I was about 13 til I went away to uni. Mads was wild and used to say things like 'my vibrator's in the top right drawer if you need it' and when I was older 'you know if you had a boyfriend he could sleep with you here' (I often used to stay overnight as they used to stay out really late).

Anyhow, one night I was watching tv, which was on a chest right in front of a window looking out onto the dark garden - no curtains but they weren't needed because it was so dark outside and the house wasn't overlooked. And what came on the tv? Only fucking 'Halloween', that's what. Did I crap myself or what?

I also had some of the best wanks of my horny teenage life when I found where they hid their porn mags (Didn't use her vibrator, though I did think about it ...)
(Umph, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 14:28, 4 replies)

Lies
My problem is not that I tell kids lies, it is that I refuse to give them dumbed down explanations when there is are better more scientific answers.

Sadly my explanation of the many worlds theory was lost on the 5 year old though he now uses the word Inuit.
(The Liquorice Allstar I need cricket, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 14:16, 17 replies)

Park an Tansys
Anyone from my local area who hears those words will shudder. It is the home for the lowest of the low. You don't get housed there until you have been kicked out of several other council houses. The neighbour hood association insist you have at least three broken kitchen appliances on your lawn. They all live of Iceland junk food and the children are left to fend for themselves at night and you quite regularly see children under 5 years of age wondering about the area at night.

I used to babysit for a woman who I mentioned in an earlier post back on page 1. She was seen in Iceland and asked by a complete stranger "Who babysits for your kids?" she took her number and asked me to call this woman who told me her sitter had let her down and could I babysit. I agreed and that evening walked the mile out of town to the horrors of Park an Tansys. Do you remember in Back to the Future part II when Marty went back to the alternative 1985 and found his home to be a warzone. Well that was nothing to this place, a group of kids were sitting around a burning milk crate and gave me a look that sent shivers down my spine. I got to the house and the door was answered by a woman who looked almost exactly like Tweedledum (or was it Tweedledee?) she told me that the three girls were upstairs and her son was in the living room. For the first time I realised I should perhaps have asked just how many kids she had. She was busy shovelling oven chips on to a large plate and called the kids in they each grabbed a small plate, shovelled off a few handful's of chips then ran off. I noticed the son didn't come for any. I quickly discovered the reason for this, her soon was 3 months old. She fucked off to the bingo leaving me with a baby and three fat, evil girls. I decided the best thing to do would be to concentrate on the baby and let the girls tire themselves out running around. After all, trips the bingo shouldn't take too long.

Bad Idea

Half an hour after she left I heard a scream. I put the baby back in his carry cot and ran to the kitchen to find one of the girls had a massive knife in her hand pointed directly at her sisters throat as she lay on the floor. The sister lying on the floor had a knife pointing at her sisters stomach. I told them to put the knifes down and thankfully they did. I marched them upstairs and found that they had locks on the bedroom doors I locked them both in separate rooms and went back to the baby. As I sat on the sofa I noticed a small flash and instinctively ducked to the right as yet another knife thudded in to the wall right where my neck had been. Sister one had climbed out of her upstairs window, snuck in the house let her other sister out and together the had decided to kill me. They ran out of the front door and sister number three followed them. They ran around the house screaming and screeching. I locked the doors and left them to it.

Their mother arrived home about an hour later and never even questioned why her three daughters were running around outside, I told her what they had done and she brushed it off saying "Oh they always do things like that" I couldn't believe just how nonchalant she was being over the whole thing. I was trying to explain to the woman that her kids had tried to kill me! I told her that I wasn't willing to babysit for her ever again and not to call me. Despite this she phoned me at least three times a week to ask if I would. Every time I gave the standard "No, your kids tried to kill me" response and every time it seemed to go in one ear and out of the other. After a month or so she stopped calling though. If I had been older than 15 I think I would have dealt with it all a lot better but I had never looked after a baby before and really had no idea what to do with three demon kids with knives. I still see the family 14 years later and they always say hello and act all friendly and I even overheard her say to her now 14 year old son "He used to babysit for you when you were a baby" yeah for one night and I never went back! The kids are in their early 20's now and they haven't changed a bit. They are just as fat and evil and I still wouldn't babysit for them.

Apologies for length
( Peej, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 12:20, 6 replies)

What's the matter, honey?
My nephew has a set of magnetic fridge letters. Whenever my sister leaves me in charge of her bouncing bundle of fun, for some reason the letters, R, E, D, R, U, and M appear in some sort of sequence on the fridge door.

My protestations of innocence fall on deaf ears. My sister refuses to believe that her house is really the Overlook Hotel and that her son is channelling its malevolent spirit. She claims I'm the one doing it all.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 12:10, 1 reply)

Unlikely but true
When I was 12ish my babysitter was in 19 yrs old and also worked as a dental technician. 2 fap fantasies in 1. I did get to shag her a few years later when i met her some xmas party thingy which was taking place at the hotel where she was now working.She didnt seeem to mind that i was fullfilling my teen dream by giving her a portion. Nice of her really.No Honda Accord involved but I did have a vauxhaul Viva at the time,
(alithebastard, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 12:04, 1 reply)

More reasons (if any more were needed) not to let me look after your kids.
Me: ...so when you go walking in the woods, you'll see lots of big stones and sometimes when you look under them you'll find a baby which you can keep and take home with you. And that's where babies come from.

Small child: So people who have more babies look under a lot of stones?

Me: Well, some people have more time than others to go up to the woods and look. We call them 'scroungers', because they spend their time scrounging around under stones in the woods rather than going to work.

Small child: So did mummy find me under a stone?

Me: Well, let's just say that your mummy has been into the woods with a lot of boys and leave it at that.
(davywavy, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 11:47, 3 replies)

I once had to babysit Natalie Portman and Angelina Jolie.
I say "had to babysit" I mean "knocked one out over a fantasy about having a threesome with them".
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 11:35, 5 replies)

impressionable cousins
When I was 16ish, I regularly babysat my 3 younger cousins, all boys, probably around 3, 5 and 7 years old at the time. I was quite into metal at the time (dark scandinavian stuff, not american crap), and so begins my cousins' journey into black metal and the devil.

I thought, the lyrics being foreign, they wouldn't understand what was being said, but being so eager to impress me they would grab my cds, google the names, and read up all about them, their lyrics, what they stood for (thank god they didn't look up Gorgoroth), and similiar bands.

From thereon every time I'd show up to babysit I'd have 3 under 8 year olds running up and shouting suggestions of various black metal bands and which songs were best, somewhat to this style.

5 year old: Munch! Have you listened to the new album from Hordes of Maggots?
7 year old: yeah! 'Satan's legion' is awesome!
Cue- 2 year old headbanging violently, bashing into walls and furniture, but too hardcore to care.

I had a lot of explaining to do. Regularly.
(MunchMyBalloons, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 11:24, 4 replies)

A guy I knew
at the docks used to bring his kids to work during the school holidays. He was a security guard, and just stayed in the same place all day. So to stop them from getting bored he let them run around everywhere, while he just sat watching the loading bay.

He was a bay B sitter.
(cypherspace is not a toaster, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 11:16, Reply)

Wee Willy Winky
I once babysat for my cousin who was about 5 at the time and a very excitable young tot. Anyway, after several hours of playing Guess Who, and other games, to tire the little monkey out and several aborted attempts to get him into bed I decided that another tactic was to be employed.

Do you remember the character “Wee Willie Winky” and the rhyme that went with this? Well I decided to become the man himself, donning my granddads dressing gown (he was staying with my Nan at the time) and picking up a candle holder I decided to ambush the little tyke on the stairs as he attempted to thwart my plans to get him successfully into bed and asleep, Surely “Wee Willy Winky” the very personification of sleep for erstwhile children would convince him to get to bed and allow me to go back to watching TV in peace? No.

Imagine the scene, I am in position in the landing near the top of the stairs, suitably dressed in WWW style ready to intercept my cousin as he tried to get back downstairs and continue to misbehave. This enough as you can imagine would be pretty terrifying to a child of 5, however I did not stop at the dressing gown, in some massively ill advised display of creativity I thought the costume needed the final touch of taping plastic spoons to my fingers……..

My cousin left his bedroom with happy childish ideas of joining his older more responsible cousin downstairs and getting to watch some grown up (but not that sort of grown up) TV, only to find a hooded maniac with plastic spoons for fingers wielding a candle at him and chanting a slightly menacing nursery rhyme. He went mental and started shouting for me, I thought he was laughing and kept up the disguise for a full 5 minutes (a long time for a 5 year old) before I realised he was terrified and revealed that the maniac was in fact his me, his cousin Superkitty, needless to say I allowed the now highly suspicious lad to return downstairs and watch Thomas the tank engine videos with me until his mum got home and was never asked to babysit for him again.
(superkitty is neither super nor a kitty, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 10:57, 6 replies)

Does anyone else get this?
I used to babysit my cousin when she was little. This mainly consisted of my charging around with her on my back, pretending to be a Porsche, until she was tired out and fell to sleep.

She's now 25, a qualified doctor, and preparing to have her second child.

I still can't get my head around such.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 10:55, 10 replies)

Stand-In

I know a stand-in isn't a babysitter - but it's in the same ballpark.

So, I take it you've heard that Peter Jackson is shooting The Hobbit in New Zealand? Well, he's looking for a stand-in for Gollum during some of the more dangerous scenes.

Anyone got Amorous Badger's CV?


Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 10:52, 28 replies)

When the Babysitter Comes
A poem by S Crow, age 6
So Mum and Dad are off tonight,
To town to see a play,
But 'town' is just for grown-ups,
And so at home we must stay,
So who will watch the pair of us,
With Mum and Dad away?
Who will be the babysitter,
Sent to watch us play?
Doubtless it will be a daughter of some friend of Mum's,
We'd better be prepared for when the babysitter comes.
I hear that she's a new one,
Well, we'll put her to the test.
I may be only six years old,
But six-year-olds know best!
I'll bet she's at that age,
When girls get lumps upon their chests,
And number "kissing boys" among,
Their boring interests.
Just look at her naive young smile - she thinks this will be fun!
But we will be prepared now that the babysitter's come.
Come, dinosaurs! Come, Action Men!
An army we must field,
Come sleepy little sister,
You can be a human shield,
Rise, kamikaze paper aeroplanes,
We'll take her down!
We'll see who rules this house,
When Mum and Dad have gone to town.
The plastic platoon's ready, let us reload all their guns,
And we shall lie in wait for when the babysitter comes.
See her start to panic,
She can see it's getting late,
And sleepy little sister,
Should have been in bed by eight,
But I know when it's best,
To leave the poor young thing alone,
To be tucked up and fast asleep,
When Mum and Dad get home.
For by the time the front door clicks, we've finished our attack.
I'm pretty sure that babysitter won't be coming back.
(LongJohnBaldry, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 10:51, 2 replies)

Dear God
Having 3 kids means that any time I would like to spend a night away with my other half we have to hire a babysitter (L, a friend of the family whos too young to go out drinking). I’m not complaining, I know that this is one of the things you have to do when you have children.

Last Friday was a friend’s 30th birthday and we had to use an alternate babysitter M (a 20 year old relative of our neighbours) as our usual one was away in Mexico fighting the oppressive land owners (I don’t know where she was the wife usually deals with this sort of thing so I’ll go with the first thing that came to mind- a plot from one of the old episodes of A Team).

Early in the week neighbour had informed me that M was bedridden with a stomach problem and may not make it by the end of the week but she would let me know by Wednesday. By Wednesday I was informed that M was still pretty ill but they had found the source of the problem after a mate of hers visited the house.

M’s Mate: Erm M whats with all these bottles of milk?
M: Oh I got them on offer, good idea aren’t they, just the right size.
M’s Mate: I didn’t think you had a cat?
M: I don’t why?
M’s Mate: This is for pets
M: Oh… I thought it tasted different

That’s right the woman I was going to leave in charge of my kids for a night had been drinking cat milk in her tea/coffee/ cereal/ anything else that needs milk for the past week or so and was suffering from the after effects (Whatever they are). Apparently M said that in her defence the idea of a cat on the front could have been a mascot as there’s no monkey in Coco Pops.

My reply of how about the sodding Whiskas logo on the front or the actual label that says CAT MILK wasn’t that a big giveaway was treated with humour but in the end I decided to cancel the babysitter and stop in while the wife went with one of her friends instead. I just feared coming back to find her dead from injesting bleach because she thought it was an orange drink (Well it has a picture of an orange on the front).

Bit long that wasn't it?
(mon bison powered by magnets, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 10:37, 7 replies)

My best mate told me the other day...
...that his girlfriend (and mother of his child) had had a very confused phone call from her mother about why their 3 year old daughter always talks about "Valhalla" and "Hammer of the Gods".

He works from home and consequently spends a lot of time with his daughter. Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song is one of his favourite songs, and so by proxy it's also one of hers now :)
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 10:35, 3 replies)

When I was a teenager my mum was a childminder
She normally looked after new born babies but some children stayed with her until they were ready to go to nursery school. One child, whom we shall call Pete (not his real name obviously) had been with my mum from a few weeks old. He was a spoiled brat. He would cry unless he was in your arms thanks to his mum believing "a child should always be in his mothers arms". It was the baby's grandmother who dropped him off most mornings and she asked my mum to try and train Pete to not cry when you set him down for a nap.

After about a year she succeeded and Pete became one of the nicest children you could meet. He was very intelligent and quick to pick up what people were saying. This was obviously a problem as me and my brothers are three of the most foul mouthed people in Ireland, but he survived and never a curse word was repeated. Anyway on his last day with my mum before nursery school his parents had sent him in his best suit. Anyone who had met the Pete had come to say cheerio and we all had a big party for him, even my dad came home from work early to say cheerio.

Now my dad has a weird sense of humour but he is great with kids and one of his usual pranks is to get toddlers to say words that they can't pronounce right, for example 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' and the resulting reply is usually very cute and funny.

So as Pete's grandparents are coming to collect him my dad calls him over and says:

"Pete, are you good with words?"

"yus!" says Pete

"Right then, say 'Bulger Plug'" fixing me and my brothers with sly smile and whispering "wait 'till you here this"

Pete looks down at the ground thinking hard on how to say this new word and my dad repeats it again. As his grandmother is getting out of the car, Pete looks up with joy in his face and a huge smile and gleefully shouts:

"BUGGER FUCK!"

It was obvious that he hadn't responded in the way my dad had hoped and his face turned to that of horror as this child was shouting:

"BUGGER FUCK BUGGER FUCK BUGGER FUCK!!" at the top of his lungs. We all erupted in laughter and left him to it. My dad luckily got his attention fixed on another nonsense word that stopped him shouting and all seemed well.

A few weeks later my mum met his gran on the street and she informed him that he was getting on great at nursery school but that some of the children there must have foul mouthed parents as Pete has learned how to say the word 'Bugger'
( Bamboo Steamer, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 9:59, 4 replies)

1000000
WOO YAY! FUCK YEAH!
( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 9:34, 6 replies)

I was 13 and I shagged my 20 year old babysitter.
Also:
1. Massive Drugs.
2. Honda Accord.
3. Model.
4. Needless to say, I had the last laugh.
5. That was her first mistake.

Apologies for length [clumsy innuendo here].
( baldmonkey a frothy foul-smelling vaginal discharge, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 9:33, 8 replies)

Babysitters
After our daughter was born, my wife went right off sex, which was terrible. I tried to be understanding and empathetic, but the rejection was difficult and painful. I just felt rejected all the time, while the wife didn't seem interested. Not a good time. However, we stayed together and kept going to social events, and so had to get a babysitter. I hired two girls from the estate, who I knew through one of them's mother, as they were looking for some money to spend.

However, after their first babysitting session, I drove them home, and the horn was calling big time. It'd been so long, so bloody long without any. And those girls were willing. I ended up boning them one after the other, passenger seat lowered all the way down.

"Oh, Bob," they said.
(McChinaman banned, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 9:21, 7 replies)

First and last time baby sitting for cousins
My mums family lived in Perth and we lived in Sydney, so sometimes we would all pile onto a plane and fly 4 hours across the country to visit.

By the time I was 15, I thought I was too old to go on family holidays but, my parents (quite rightly) thought I was too young to stay home alone but, I was old enough to do a little free baby sitting for the younger kids (12, 10, 8, 6, 3).

So the first night they head out and the younger kids acted up a bit. And I did eventually snap and give the 6 year old a smack on the bum.

Next day the children formed a small union and took their complaints of my babysitting methods to the parents council. Not only did the smack on the arse get mentioned, they fabricated a whole lot of other abuse such as hitting them with bats and refusing them their pudding and yelling and swearing at them.

I was asked to explain this clear violation of their human rights, and because I was a surly teenager, rather than deny the allegations and explain the challenges, I said.

"There not fucking dead are they, if you want me to be nice to them you're gunna have to pay me, you got what you paid for".

I was not requested to provide baby sitting services again. Next time they went out they hired (thats right payed an outsider) a 17 year old hot chick for up the road to baby sit. Which really was a win win situation for me, until she decided I was a 15 year old show off twat and spent the rest of the night ignoring me.
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 8:40, Reply)