After graduating
I moved to another city and started doing a postgraduate degree. My partner was unemployed and my status as "like-a-student-but-not-a-student" seemed to confuse the benefits office and they didn't quite know what to do with us.

So they decided to send a nice lady round to interview us, and find out more about our situation.

In advance of this visitation we cleaned and cleared the flat throughly. When she arrived we made some tea and we all sat down around a little round dining table in the middle of which was a fruit bowl.

Five minutes in to the interview I noticed with mounting horror that during the clearing up process I had missed something. Lying, plain as day, amongst the fruit was a big, jolly, three-quarter ounce block of cannabis resin which I'd bought before moving to ensure I'd have plenty of stash during the delicate process of finding a new dealer.

Several minutes after that I could tell, from the expression on her face and the way she was kicking me violently beneath the table that my partner had noticed it too.

And after an hour of us sat there, sweating buckets, the lady left, having said nothing. And we got our money and the police never got involved either. So I can only assume she must have thought it was some kind of novelty coconut or something.
(MattDP (Squiggle), Wed 3 Dec 2008, 9:09, Reply)

Bloody technology
I want to slide my hard hot cock inside you and kiss your naked chest, and then I'm gonna pull out and cum in your mouth cuz I know you love that. Cant wait til later, angel x x x

I just sent this text.

To my boss.

By accident.

He's due in at 10am.

Its the works Christmas party tonight.

Oh, dear.
( SpankyHanky, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 9:00, 3 replies)

Not exactly my story, but this happened to a friend and was told to me,
This requires some brief background: The chap in question is a young gay lad into the BDSM scene, we shall call him Dave:

Many mobile phone accounts now allow you to do a BT style 'Friends And Family' thing where you can pick 3 frequently called numbers and get them for a bit cheaper than your other calls, so Dave goes into his friendly mobile phone shop with his Mum to ask about this.

'Ah yes,' says the nice man in the shirt and tie, 'we can do that for you Sir and who would you like to put on it?'

So he decides of course his Mum will be one of them, then follows this with his boyfriend, and now gets a little stuck as to which to put for his third and final number, so helpful Mr Mobile Phone Shop Man who already has Dave's phone to take down his chosen numbers looks up the phone's dialing log and says:

'Well, your next most frequently dialed number would seem to be this, er, Master?'

I can only imagine that brief bit of frozen time that followed...
( ..wil, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 8:29, Reply)

Children's party game
I was about 13. It would have been my little sister's eight birthday party. Lots of young girls, being all hyper on jelly and e-numbers. Good times.

We were playing that game where you make up a story with a partner, but you can only say one word at a time, and then your partner says the next word. Geddit? It's pretty fucking simple.

So it's my turn to play. With my mum. It goes like this:

Me: I.
Mum: WENT.
Me: TO.
Mum: THE.
Me: DENTIST.
Mum: TO.
Me: HAVE.
Mum: MY.
Me: TESTICLES... eh?

Oh good Christ. I didn’t mean to say that at all and froze to the spot. Why did I say testicles? I meant TONSILS. Sort of sounds the same. In a way. And why would I go to the dentist to get tonsils taken out anyway? My pubescent brain was so utterly confused.

Very sharply I turned a bright shade of beetroot red as lots of 8 year old girls stopped and looked at me blankly. My mum just looked disappointed for bringing the game into such disrepute.

It was then that Nancy Cole burst out laughing.

And as Nancy was almost thumping the floor with laughter convulsions, my sister – on behalf of most of her young friends I imagine - asked her what "testicles" were.

"I don't know!" Nancy replied.

And suddenly my day brightened. I vowed not to play any more silly games and decided instead to nick off for a big wank and play with my nice hairy tonsils.
(IckleWickleStickleIckle, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 7:28, 1 reply)

Putting it out...
A few friends and I were sitting around discussing the benefits of shaving, as you do, and a close friend kept going on and on about how awesome it is to have shaved balls. Well, Ian listened to his advice. He came back the next day asking quietly how to get the pubes off the bottom of his sack. He was informed, jokingly, that you simply burn them off.

To this day, we won't let him live it down. He still claims the worst part was not burning his balls, but the instinct to put it out by slapping...
(CaffeineFiend, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 6:07, 3 replies)

I think I'm going to die........
Winter is coming in Southern California, which means it's getting chilly enough to wear a sweater at night, and put the heating on low.

I went to turn the heating on last night, and my pilot light had blown in the heater. Where I live, you HAVE to call maintenance out to re-light it, due to some funky thing it has on there that prevents joe public from lighting it.

So, maintenance came out today, and left their standard "we've been and fixed your problem note". They left the note on my monitor, which, naturally is on my desk.

And so is BOB*, who I had a great session with last night while watching interweb free porn.

* for you men out there, BOB is battery operated boyfriend
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 5:44, 4 replies)

Labia
Whilst away on a hostel trip at the tender age of 17 I made the foolish error of eating only fruit cups and jelly for a full week (there weren't many vegetarian cheap foods).
As a result, a nasty bout of constipation gripped me, and after a few days of intense discomfort, I just had to go to the doctor.

I live in a small town, so seeing the doctor, who lives on my street, about this was embarrassing enough, I thought. How wrong I was: apparently a full body examination was required for my symptoms.
Again, intense red-faced shame. Just as I had rezipped and vowed never to tell anyone of this, the offending nurse turned from her desk, looked me straight in the eyes and uttered:
"By the way, dear, you've got lovely labia".

I think I ran, and to this day I ponder what on earth the right reply to that would have been
(JennaTaylor is gleaming like a well oiled Danny DeVito, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 5:10, 7 replies)

M.McCann's post on the previous page just reminded me.
I couldn't have been more than 16 years old at the time. And I had a loverly boyfriend with whom I enjoyed a good make-out (snogging) session when we weren't rutting like rabbits in his bed.

One afternoon we decided to go to a local park. It was a lovely Sunday. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, his hands were firmly entrenched in my pants.....

Now, we were at least somewhat modest youths and kept our delights to ourselves....in a small sports car.....in a 2-row parking lot.....facing the park with a lake behind....only a few feet from a sidewalk....with the other half of the park behind us.......

Every now and then the thought would briefly cross my mind that there were an awful lot of people at the park wandering around on this day. Eventually I asked the nearly completly unclothed boy I was about to mount why it seemed there were so many people around.



It was Easter Sunday.


At the park where the town holds it's annual easter-egg hunt and huge picnic.


We were parked in the middle of the easter-egg huting grounds....


oops

For my fellow Merikans and those of you who like cars...it was a Mazda RX-7. And for years I couldn't see one of those cars without cringing.
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Wed 3 Dec 2008, 3:11, Reply)

Cystitus
Not a very funny complaint at the best of times, caught me a dose and crumpled up in a heap. However, what made me cringe the most was being examined down below by a very nice lady Doctor. I lay there and she slid up my skirt, pressed my abdomen and told me to replace my underwear. She then proscribed something to stop the infection.

So you ask, why the cringe? Lets just say that every Transsexual woman has a Pre-op phase of pants containing a little more than she would like. I was heavily Gender Disphoric and wanted the floor to swallow me.

Move on three months and I meet my SRS Surgeon and he says I must have laser treatment to remove pubic hair prior to surgery, which leaves me in the beauticians having the hormone damaged meat and veg burned into order with a Q switched welding laser. I do not know what was redder, my welded and burned genitals or my extremely embarrassed face.

Lengh: chopped off with a rusty bread knife.
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 3:11, 3 replies)

I am a fair bit older than some of my friends,
and as such a tad more experienced at being drunk, horny and in posession of a phone. I'm also rather good at advice, and get asked how to deal with certain situations quite often.

I usually help. Usually.

When one of my friends got really drunk at a party last year, he got talking to his ex. Presently, she left, leaving him drooling on my shoulder about how much he wanted to shag her. I was pretty sick of this after a few minutes, he gets FAARRR more ladies than I ever do, and I pretty much hate the old regrettable drunk monkey-sex that everyone else seems to love, so evil me emerged and decided to 'help'.

I suggested he send her a beautifully worded romantic text. Seeing as he was so drunk, I composed it myself, dictating it to him as he drooled over his phone. Short. Warm. Endearing.

"U, me, sex?'

Astoundingly, she rejected this heartfelt offer with a cold 'not a chance' Chuckling, I consoled him with a cheery "haha well try this... 'OK then, U, Alan, sex'" (Alan, of course, being my good self). He scowled at me. I was impressed at my cleverness.

Impressed, that is, until I realised he HAD sent the second message.

She didn't reply. I can't imagine why.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 3:02, 2 replies)

Bike !
I work for a rather large global company and in my early years of the company worked with a big bunch of boys - boys being boys there was lots of banter and I succumbed to being being 'one of the gang' - much banter was had, emails exchanged back and forth etc etc

There was a girl who joined the team, lets call her Claire, and she was fairly attractive and there were numberous attempts made to woo her by various parties with no joy. Claire had recently transferred from one of our overseas offices.

Fast forward 3 months and I was transferred to the Melbourne office, coincidentally where Claire had worked previously prior to her move to London.

It quickly transpired that Claire had a bit of a reputation in the office for being, on the words of one observer 'a bit of a bike'.

I decided to send the boys a swift email to encourage them to persist in their pursuit of Claire as it would clearly be rewarded - I penned a quick email along the lines of "Had anyone got anywhere with Claire yet, it seems she's a bit of a bike down here, persist and you will be rewarded" - Not very PC I know, but I was young and foolish - I sent the email, logged off and went home knowing that when I came in the next morning I would arrive to an inbox filled with banter.

On getting into work there was strangely only one email - from one guy, lets call him 'Simon' - these were the days when if somebody was away, the team would have access to their email.

The email went something along the lines of '"Dear Zit, thanks for your email - unfortunately Simon is on holiday and I am looking after his emails, Best regards, Claire"

Still makes me shudder to this day.
(zit, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 2:33, Reply)

work experience
When I wasn't able to get my first or second choice of work experience placements the school decided to send me to a back-up place they keep for just such occasions. I knew nothing about this place except that is was a distribution warehouse for various products and I was to be gaining valuable experience as the office junior doing the usual photocopying, faxing, filing, etc.

It took a couple of days of working there to realise that almost everyone in the place had some kind of disability and this was actually a place to enable disabled people to gain enough skills and experience to go out and become part of the workforce.

I was doing some photocopying when the paper ran out and, having never used a photocopier before, I had to ask for help re-filling it. One of the office girls came over and bent down to pick up some fresh paper from a box on the floor and only after she'd been struggling for a while to pick it up I noticed she had and artificial arm so could only use her good hand to grab the paper. So I said to her "do you need a hand?"

I ran and hid in the toilets until the redness subsided
(antigen is running away from something, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 2:27, 3 replies)

Fore
1.

After a heavy night on the turps 'n' biccies, I went straight to the golf course (posh one, me not a member there) for a little game with some non booze/drug addled mates. On the second hole I tee'd off (it was probably the best shot of my day) and felt the need for a fart. Sadly, it was a very moist fart; I had in fact shat myself quite completely.

My playing partners had the delight of watching me drop the strides, lose the dung hampers and proceed to clean myself up with the aide of the ball washer and my little ball washer towel.

2.

I had a home stay with a sweet little old lady whilst traveling through Siberia in 2003 (I was 35). I had a dream in bed the last night, which evidently involved me satisfying all of the local girls/ladies plus some domesticated animals (probably). I awoke to find that I had spoofed up an extraordinary amount all over me and more importantly the bed clothes; both barrels at the very least. Crusty, dried up spoof smells wrong. Fortunatly my Russian does not extend to "You Dirty Old Man". Cheers Babooshka.

Happy days lad.

Long time reader first time poster. Never mind the length feel the spoofage
(Teamspunk Is putting the spunk in steampunk, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 2:02, 2 replies)

Sperm :o(
I was about 15 years old, it was a Saturday morning in 95.
As usual I awoke with a bit of morning glory.
Having no porn in the house (my mother can sniff a jazz mag from a thousand paces) I settled for the best possible option available to me.
I flicked around the TV channels and the only female on view was the wonderful Zoe Ball on Live & Kicking.
A few glorious minutes later I was looking for something to mop up with. Nothing at hand other than a sock, so I mopped up and threw the sock under my bed.

I went downstairs for a shower, brushed my teeth, got a bowl of coco pops and was walking back to my bedroom when I see my mother coming down the stairs having just cleaned my room.
As I walk past her she has a load of laundry in her arms and she says the words which will haunt me until death.

"Rabbi, don't you ever blow your nose on your sock again! I have it all over my hands!"


:\
(The Rabbi, Wed 3 Dec 2008, 0:39, 4 replies)

Misreading a one night stand...
Me: I am really keen on you, are you keen on me? (And yes, that is verbatim)

Boy: *terrified look followed by awkward silence*

This, apparently, was not enough of a clue for me and so fast forward one week and you will be greeted with the image of an extremely drunk Mr. F pinning (yes, physically pinning) the previously mentioned boy against a wall while slurring into his face: 'Come back to my place tonight, go on... please?' only to be given an exact repeat of the previous response.

My face actually burns in actual shame remembering this.
(Mr._F is not actually a man- this username is a lie!, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 23:53, 6 replies)

Customer service cringe
For my sins a few years ago I worked as a customer service rep for the TV shopping channel QVC. This consisted of 2 weeks training in a classroom followed by a further week in a special area in the call centre where the new people sit and there are more experienced staff walking around to lend a hand if/when you get stuck. It works well and to be honest it's quite a fun job if you like talking to people on the phone.

Anyway, around this time my sister in law was very heavily pregnant and it had previously been agreed tbhat my wife was to drive her to hospital when the time came as her husband didn't drive. I was in charge of watching my own 2 kids who at the time were too young to be left on their own.

Perhaps many of you don't realise, but generally in these call centre type environments most calls follow a similar pattern and whilst QVC wasn't heavy on the scripted conversations, one thing they did like was for the calls to be ended with "Thank you for calling QVC"

So anyway, unbeknown to me, sis-in-law goes into labour, my wife drives her to the hospital, dropping my kids off at my mother in laws.

Once my sis in law was 'settled' in the delivery suite my wife thinks it would be a good idea to ring QVC and ask them to pass on a message to me, just so I know what's going on and where my kids are. Having left the house in rather a rush, she has forgotten to bring the reception phone number with her, so doing what any good girl scout would do she improvises and rings the telephone ordering line. Bear in mind there are around 200 people at any given time answering phones at QVC and you begin to see why it was so amazing that it was I who answered her call.

Me:"Good afternoon can I take a item number please"

Wife: "I don't actually want to place an order, I just need to get a message to MadBouncyDog to tell him his sis...etc."

Me: "Mrs. MBD!!! It's me !!! Wow!!! what are the chances??? How was it etc.

Mrs. MBD then proceeded to tell me the graphic details of the onset of labour and the trip to the hospital ending with instructions for picking up my kids.

Me: Ok Thanks for that. Thank you for calling QVC!!!

Unfortunately all calls are recorded and I could hear the monitoring team laughing from the other end of the (very large) room for what seemed like hours.

Loses it a bit in translation I'm afraid but I'm a musician, not a writer.
(MadBouncyDog Barking at the moon since, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 22:12, Reply)

Anonymous cringe
In the colonoscopy suite, we had someone who started moaning the second the scope touched her bumhole. She was heavily sedated, but of course you can still talk and move. The doctor was a tiny (4' 11")little Indian guy who was visibly embarrassed by his patient moaning and thrusting her rear at him, saying "Yes, yes, YES Jeffrey, give it to me! Fuck my sweet ass! Oh baby, you've got the biggest cock" etc. The nurses were cringing on her behalf and I was making a personal note to self to NOT be sedated for my colonoscopy when it comes around.

This went on for the entire 40 minutes. She must have thought ole Jeffrey had taken Viagra.

It doesn't end there. The next year, the same patient came in again. None of us remembered her until the scope was slathered with warm lube and positioned. Then as soon as it slid in an inch, she started up with "You fucking pillow-biting cocksucker Jeffrey! I hate your motherfucking guts, get the hell away from me before I rip off your dick and feed it to you!" And so on.

We are in pain with holding back the tears of laughter and biting our knuckles. Dr. Patel is quite surprised and says in his vaudeville hall Indian accent, "Oh my goodness, she is having a falling out with this Jeff-er-ry person."
Then he said, "Well, at least she is having the annual checkups, eh?"


I almost did a poo in my scrubs, trying to be professional.
We called Dr. Patel "Jeffrey" for two years after that.




The best part is she'll never know.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 21:43, 11 replies)

Once I was giving a blow job to a straight guy
and midway through my wig fell off. Imagine my humiliation when he found out I wasn't exactly the lovely lady he thought I was.
(Ay, Why, Kay, Jee, Oh, Tee, Ell bcdefhijmnpqrsuvwxz, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 21:16, Reply)

Happened today!
My course-friends and I were hastily exiting our morning lecture, and were trying to sort out when we would tackle our assignment together, speaking loudly over the throng of students.

"I reckon we should just do it now" says one "it's the only time we're all free!"

"Great!" responds another, "I'll nip to the loo and join you in the lounge in 10 minutes! Deal a final blow to this bloody logic."

"Alright, I'll be timing you!" I joke, and followed "Since it's 9.01 now, at 9.11 WE'LL STRIKE!"

The dramatic flair at the last part didn't help. You could've cut the air with a boeing.
(Adamish Time of death, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 21:12, Reply)

someone else's cringe
I have just started a lovely new job working in HR for the rozzers, setting up a new department.

Just a few days ago I rang a very experienced and senior detective who had applied to transfer into our department, to set up an interview. Once a date and time was agreed, I asked him for his email address so I could send confirmeation.

'No problem' says he 'its (insertnamehere)@hotmail

*pauses*

'cos thats what I am'

delivered in a slightly lower tone, what I suspect is his 'come-to-bed' voice

I think the noise I made could be best described as half-retch half-snort, and to top it off I went on to choke on my own saliva a bit. Both parties terminated the phonecall as quickly as possible after that; I went off to roll around laughing in the staffroom, I suspect he went off to bang his head against a wall.

Silly policeman, I cringe on your behalf! But not as much as you'll be cringing when you have to face me in your interview next week.

FYI I checked his file, and a hot male he ain't
(G-Lo, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 20:57, 3 replies)

Caught!
In 1997, I was caught having a poo in a bush outside a large car manufacturing plant by a police officer. I remember the poo was halfway out of my behind when I was discovered. I imagine that image is probably very vivid in that police officer's mind to this very day.
(Nibi, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 20:05, 4 replies)

Argh, they're all coming flooding back now!
A friend of mine was secretly seeing another friend- well, maybe 'shagging' is a more apt term than 'seeing'- and a large group of us were on a big night out.

At some point, my friend composes a text message to the effect of 'come back to my place, bouncy bouncy!' only a little more explicit.

He then sent it.

To his dad.

To be fair to the two of them, they saw the funny side and confessed all in the name of giving the rest of us a good laugh :)
(Generator cannot be named for legal reasons, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 19:46, Reply)

Father in law tongue sandwich
Mr t0ria's mum and dad like to think they are quite posh. When I first met them, I didn't know about their insistence on kissing everyone on both cheeks to greet them, despite the fact they are in fact Welsh, not continental.

Picture the scene- Mr t0ria's dad greets me. I expect a nice friendly hand shake, He moves in to kiss me on the cheek. Surprised, I turn my face. We meet in the middle and end up lip to lip. I kissed my future father in law full on the mouth.

Unfortunately, he now seems to think that I did this deliberately, as if it is some hip "young persons" way of greeting complete strangers. Every time we meet now he goes in for a full on smacker on the mouth. I have to awkwardly try to deflect it without drawing too much attention to what is happening.

At least that is what i think is going on..... *shudders*
( t0ria has forgotten how this all works, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 19:33, 2 replies)

My guilty pleasure...
is posting 37 weeks late.
(Jeremy Paxmans Itchy Gusset, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 19:16, 2 replies)

Texting mishaps!
Thus far I've only had one, but that was enough.

In the early days of our relationship, the Lunatic Artist and I lived a fair distance apart. We often sent rather pornographic texts to each others' phones, saying what we wanted to do the next time we met.

One night I was in one such exchange when I happened to get a message from someone else at the same time. Somehow a very explicit text got sent out to the wrong number.

The number in question was to the wife of one of my best friends.

She still gives me shit about that one.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 2 Dec 2008, 19:15, 6 replies)

Shock and awe skidmark
I will try to make this quick and painless.

My (then) girlfriend and I were staying at my parent's place, and we had the spare room to ourselves. The bed was only a single, so we spent the night very closely spooned. Although it wasn't yet morning, I slowly woke with the realisation that I had an erection so hard that a cat couldn't scratch it, accompanied by a strong sensation that I had to poo.

My morning glory couldn't help but make its presence felt, and my girlfriend rarely rejected any nocturnal nudging of her nether regions. Before I had a chance to step out to the loo, she pounced on me like Oprah on a baked ham.

After using me as a vaulting box for a while (we were yung 'uns then), I disentangled myself and snuck out to the lav to ease the pressure in my bowel.

On return, in the dim light I could see my girlfriend was trying to examine a darkish patch on the sheets. "Are you OK?" she asked "It looks like you've been bleeding".

I flicked on the bedside lamp. The dark patch on the sheets popped out of the darkness as a long, thick pasty skidmark of poo. Obviously, I had been touching cloth during our gymnastics and made my mark, so to speak.

She said nothing, I said nothing, and we curled up on the smear-free side of the bed.

To make things worse, the next morning my mum dashed in while I was at breakfast and stripped the bedsheets for washing, thwarting well-laid plans to wash them myself. She -must- have found the offending smear - as it would have taken a paint scraper and a stiff elbow to chip the stuff off by then.

To this day the slightest tinge of brown in my underwear brings all of this back and leaves me shuddering with horror.


Long time lurker, first time post, please be gentle.
(bulbus1 *whoop whoop* pull up, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 18:50, 7 replies)

So Mr Bin
has just had an e-mail from his brother *waves* saying "BTW tell Mrs Bin her Banana and KY jelly story on QOTW made me laugh."

www.b3ta.com/questions/cringe/post315116


Right, I'm off to trawl through everything else I've written to see if I have written anything incriminating.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Tue 2 Dec 2008, 18:44, 1 reply)

At Christmas, my family used to
Bollocks, missed it again.
( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Tue 2 Dec 2008, 18:20, Reply)

Two for one
When my brother was deployed to Iraq, I sent him care packages all the time. One of the things he needed for his unit was condoms--put over the barrel, the condom keeps sand out of the firing mechanism.

I'm at the checkout with a box of 144 Trojans and the cashier raises her eyebrows. Now this woman is Deaf; I know her and try to explain in sign language why I need a gross of condoms. She just keeps smiling and nodding, the Deaf equivalent of "Pull the other one, it's got bells on". By now, everyone around is staring at us, wondering what going on with the flaily woman and the weiner wraps.

Finally in exasperation, I say aloud so she can read my lips, "They are for my brother!

Then I died.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 18:14, 5 replies)

Robin Williams
His life and work make me cringe more than I could possibly put into words.

The mere thought of any one of his execrable efforts makes my teeth itch.


The end.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Tue 2 Dec 2008, 18:11, 6 replies)