Ovaries are not as funny a topic as testicles.
In my experience, anyway.

I'm a previous master of the badly-timed and -targeted inappropriate joke, so I'm now careful to get know the person before I let fly. I have a list of trusted friends who cannot be offended, who are regularly subject to my most tourettish verbal impulses.

However...

During a particularly smuttily-topicked conversation with a female friend, her contributions as dirty as mine, I made a remark, the specifics now lost to memory, about her obviously manifold ovaries.

"Actually, I had cancer and they got taken out."

Yes.

Second time, similar circumstances, drunken barbecue, raunchy chat, somebody points a funny bulge in my friend's top (I don't remember what it actually was, but it was something innocuous) and before anyone can get any further, my "witty" hair-trigger remark, delivered in drunken Shakespeare ponce voice is: "it is but her glorious left ovary, swollen with eggs. And life."

Cancer. Radical hysterecomy.

I no longer make jokes about ovaries.
(Ladyfingers is in your wardrobe,, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 5:47, 2 replies)

OK, so about ten seconds ago
I read something on the wires (I'm in a newspaper office) about the cricket being cancelled in India due to the recent unrest.
"How gay is that?" I asked the first person walking past. The gay guy who who was walking past, that is.
( difficultchild, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 3:32, 2 replies)

On a night in Swansea a while back...
I bumped into an old friend of mine I hadn't seen for at least a couple of years, and much reminiscing ensued, as it often does when you're pissed.

Conversation turned to other mutual old friends (or indeed acquaintances), and what they were up to these days, and I remembered J. The last time I'd seen J he was out of his tree on coke at the age of 15.

I half-jokingly asked: "How's J then? Killed himself yet?"

The reply, of course, was "Yes, he overdosed on heroin six months ago."

Never mind mouth, could've tickled my fucking alveoli with my own toes.

First post, be gentle...
(spiney_norman, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 3:21, Reply)

Back in the late 80's...
...I was part of the Dinnington *rock* scene (we had two venues! And the Dogs D'amour played at one of them!) with my band The Eternal, and myself and my lead guitar player (Dean) were invited to a party at our good bud Johns house. It started off ok with a few beers, but then Dean and myself 'rediscovered' the bottle of JD we'd had stashed. At some point during the night I liberated a half bottle of vodka, and found some wine....Things I am reliably informed of: The hour or so I spent talking to Jane who I was madly in love with at that time, only I was apparently suggesting very strongly that she and Dean get together, John and his (soon to be wife, whos name I forget) talking me out of drinking the 6 months old bottle of cold tea JD 'display model' that was in Johns bedroom, and then...apparently, biting Johns lady friend on the arm.

Oy. And indeed, Vey.

At some point, some kindly soul dragged my ragged body onto the couch, covered me with a blanket and left me to sleep it off, only for me to wake up 3 hours later, wake up Dean for company, and then clean up the house and figure out New Model Armys 51st state on the guitar that was hanging around :-)

Waking up still drunk is ace!

It could have been worse, I suppose.

Damn, though...Jane...you were lovely...
(TC, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 2:44, 3 replies)

Moving to Japan
So I've been living in Korea for just about five years. First time I started to get serious with a girl (mentioned in a recent QOTW) she fed me this line: "You should move to Japan. Girls there like foreigners. They especially like black men." Gotta love the subtle racism there. "Korean girls are pure. Japanese girls are size queens."

I then received this line on two later occasions, once from a girl and I think once from a guy.

And of course, now that I'm married to a Korean, many other Koreans just naturally assume she's Japanese, because a Korean would never date a white guy.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 2:19, 1 reply)

Vacuum cleaner
Teenage boy, parents walking in.

no more explanation necessary
(stuwads, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 2:05, 5 replies)

This one still makes me cringe and giggle in equal measures...
I shared a flat with my friend. My girlfriend was there most of the time too because she was too scared to go home because there were trees on the way or the zombies were going to eat her or something. She was MENTAL.

Anyway, she was on the blob and she'd done the apparently proper way of disposing of a tampon, which is to wrap it in loo roll and put it in the bin. I'd just flush the things if men had periods, but they can clog up the plumbing or whatever. I googled it there to make sure she wasn't just a weirdo (well she was, but not in this way), and it's right enough, this is the official way to get rid of them. Wrap them in loo roll, put them in the bin in the bathroom.

So yeah, she did that. My mate'd dad, his dad's girlfriend, my mate's sister and her dog were round visiting.

Some ARSE left the bathroom door open and the dog got in, knocked over the bin, and then started running around the flat with this tampon and toilet roll chew toy in its mouth.

This happened just as we were leaving, so we pretended not to see, and just fucked off.

To this day none of them have said anything to me about it. Fair enough really, what would they say? :o
(weegiegeek, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:50, 2 replies)

To the dirty bastard Frenchman down the hall
I know it was you.

When I'm trying to take a shit in the toilet cubicle next you you, kindly stop wanking. Or at least make it less obvious.

That is all.
( MatJ LOOK, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:50, 2 replies)

Another...
I've got tons of these stories. I'm a horrible cunt, it seems.

I was 4 or 5, around that age, and it was some christmas do at my dad's work or something.

I'd been carrying on, play fighting with a guy he worked with, but he had to go up on stage and give a speech.

Halfway through the speech he had an epileptic fit, and collapsed to the ground, convulsing and all that. You know the dance.

I, however, thought he was still carrying on with me, so i climbed up on stage and started jumping up and down on this poor guy having a fit. On stage. In front of hundreds of people.

Sorry mum. (My dad's a dick so he doesn't get an apology.)
(weegiegeek, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:45, Reply)

I'm not racist but...
When I was about 3 or 4, I saw my first black man, at the bus stop.

"Look mum, a golliwog!"

I'm sure he'd been called worse, and I'm sure he saw the funny side of it, but my poor mum was mortified. :(
(weegiegeek, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:42, Reply)

Last one for now
My friend M had an exceptionally attractive girlfriend D. She was lovely - somehow managing with her big doe eyes to look innocent and sexy at the same time. Always friendly, with the face of an angel and a fine figure to match. She was stunning.

At a party I held, they stopped the night and left after the other couples, leaving just four blokes in the room. Once they'd left, the four of us discussed the delightful D, stating that she was far too good looking for M, and exactly what we'd like to do to her, given the chance.

We'd gone quite a way down the list of abominations we'd subject her to, given the chance, when a noise from outside the (open) sitting room door alerted us to the presence of M in the flat.

"Sorry guys" he said, "been looking for my hat out here for ages. Anyone seen my hat ?"

A quick look at his faced showed he'd heard every word.

Last party of mine they attended :-(
( I_Was_Mordred, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:41, Reply)

Bad cooking
Right, I've remembered the thing that makes me cringe the most.

Half of my family are French. Whatever your thoughts are on the French, they do enjoy good food.

So when they came to stay, I decided to pull out the stops for the Christmas meal.

We had a starter. Now normally a starter at Christmas is smoked salmon or prawn cocktail. That's the law.

However I decided like a fool to cook scallops on a bed of mashed celeriac.

Big mistake. The expensive sea-food was over-cooked, the celeriac under-cooked. As a result, the sensation when eating was best described as chewing rubber which had an undercoat of raw potato. Lovely.

Sod it though, at least with the turkey I couldn't go wrong. Hadn't I one year done the Christmas meal on a Baby Belling (very small oven where the hob doesn't work if the oven is on) and triumphed ? I couldn't get this wrong, could I ?

The secret is always in the timing. Everything has to be ready at the right time. So the veg, gravy, stuffing, bread sauce, roast potatoes, parsnips, chipolatas wrapped in bacon were all on the table, steaming hot, when I sliced open the turkey. 12 expectant faces stared at the enormous bird, browned to perfection on the outside...

...and pink as a Barbie doll on the inside.

Never have I wished the ground to swallow me up more.

Fried turkey, anyone ?
( I_Was_Mordred, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:25, 2 replies)

Cringeing on behalf of a friend, and to this day it still makes me laugh
As you all know my mum died in February (it was actually a year ago today I last saw her) and I couldn't go home due to lack of green card.

I had a service for her here in the US, all my friends came 'cos well, they all loved my mum too.

Fast forward a month - exactly a month to the day she passed away. I received an email saying my green card had been approved.

So that night, in the local bar, I'm showing the email off to everyone. One friend pipes up "oooh, so you'll be able to go back to England now to see your mum".

Cue stunned silence from the rest of the bar, and the look on friends face when he realised what he'd said was an absolute picture. Even now, he apologises every time he sees me.

Bless 'im. He didn't mean it, and his crestfallen face had me laughing so hard I did a little wee.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:23, Reply)

The Underground
I was on the tube in London on a day out with my parents. I think we were going to the distinctly boring Ideal Homes Show where the only highlight was eating free sushi.

The tube was packed as it gets and my parents grabbed two available seats as soon as they became available - not being the types to expend energy unnecessarily. I was going to stand in front of them and hold onto the over head loops, but some other bugger stepped in there before me. In fact, I was resigned to retreating to lean against the glass partition near the doors. As we went past more and more stops the train got more and more busy until we came to a point where people were barging their way onto the train and I was forced to move away from my safe spot near the door and into the middle.

The train progresses. I try to divert my mind away from the overcrowding by thinking about other things. I think about my girlfriend. Only she seems to be getting naked and her beautiful breasts are jiggling as they do when she's being playful... The train jerks to a stop, bringing me back to reality and I realise that I've developed a rather large bulge in my trousers. Now, I haven't had an embarrassing public-erection for about ten years when I was twelve and so I started to panic.

I could have dropped my hands in a hasty attempt to conceal my predicament (whilst risking flying through the carriage), but I felt that maybe the opposite would be better. Just keep holding on, pretending nothing is different - after all, everyone's so crammed in, surely nobody is looking at my crotch.

I turn, to try and point it away from the nearest person facing me. Luckily there's a woman with her back turned to me who I line up with; she can't see my raging bulge. The train moves on. The air is stuffy and I start feeling slightly queasy.

I peruse the advertisements in a desperate attempt to divert my mind and deflate my cock but to no avail. I notice from the corner of my eye a haggard middle-aged man with grey hair staring right at me. I look away, expecting him to do the same. But no, I can see his piercing gaze from the corner of my eye. I take another approach and look him straight in the eye as if to say, "what the fuck are you looking at?" He looks down at my crotch, then back at me. Then back down and back up, as if to confirm that he knew I had a hard-on. Shit - I've been discovered. The train seemed to shrink.

I should point out at this stage that I was reasonably well dressed; wearing a nice pair of jeans and a smart shirt. He looked the opposite. Next he looked at the back of the lady whose back was turned to me, back at my crotch and back at me. There was something not right here lets face it because the usual response would be to look away.

There were three possibilities, I thought: (a) He's gay, (b) He thinks I'm a rapist or, (c) He's going to try and mug me and thinks I'll enjoy it.

Whichever it was, my huge embarrassment turned to rage and I wanted to get off that train ASAP. Luckily our stop was next and so I hurried off. I waited on the platform to see him get off and go (to make sure that I wasn't going to get a knife in the back) and as he walked off he gazed at me sharply.

I was glad to see him leave, I can tell you because I was starting to feel adrenaline surging through me and ready to throw a punch or two if he came over to give me a trouble. I don't know why really - it was just the mix of huge embarrassment coupled with a feeling of threat.

My parents got off the train next, completely unaware of the drama that had unfolded. I told my Mum about the bloke later, omitting the bit about the erection, and gave my girlfriend the whole story later that night. All I can say is that even now it's horribly cringe-making and the sort of thing you only expect from nightmares.


In similar news, I once jumped out of a train onto the platform of one of Tokyo's busiest underground stations (during rush-hour) and promptly vomited all over my shoes. I've never seen Japanese business men move so quickly. Going to the platform attendant with sick down my front and a string of snot bouncing bungy-like from my nose to say in bad Japanese I've just puked on his pristine platform hasn't been the highlight of my life so far.


I hate public transport. Fact.
(Master of Fuckwittery and Bollocks last shat in your soul on, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:18, Reply)

Foot in mouth disease
Like almost everyone else, too many to mention but notables include:

My current beau (who uses this site, hi Askew!) is fucking dreadful at saying goodbye. "Love you lots! Goodnight! Sleep well! Bye! Love you!" etc for a good half hour or so. We have a long-distance relationship so while this is fine when we're snuggled up together it's a total fucking pain in the arse when you're on the phone and on gchat at the same time. Most of the time, I'm dying for a piss or a bong hit while he's professing his undying love and longing. Naturally, after 2+ years things become a little predictable and automatic.

Which is why I have ended long boring phone calls to BT call centres, work, my dad and most excruciatingly, my ex-husband with the words "Yeah, got to go. Bye! Love you loads!"

And now every call to my ex ends with him saying "Bye, love you loads hunnybunny! Kiss kiss mwah! MWAH! Snugglies!"

And in the same line as someone else in this QOTW, I once bounded into the living room to tell my mum and her friends the following joke:

What's the best thing about cowboys over the age of 50?
They only fire blanks!

See? See? It's funny because Clint Eastwood is really old and an actor and so his gun only fires blanks and won't kill you!

I was 11. My mum and her friends weren't. Her friends laughed, she did that small smile, that Myra Hindley smile that congeals your blood and gives you The Fear. I made an oopsie, didn't I?

I'm still alive, though. Limbless, but alive. Thankfully, I can type with my nose.
(posthumous mince is tiptoeing through the tulips, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:16, Reply)

I'm sure I've blotted out most of them
but one that comes to mind is sitting watching TV with my grandmother and the family priest - Catholic, in his 70s.

We'd been watching something innocuous on Channel 4. Then Eurotrash comes on (for non-UK people, a typical show comprises the bizarre sexual habits of the Germans [think South Park], a smattering of semi-nude Danish women with large breasts and wife-swapping French pensioners).

My brain stops working. Surely my grandmother will switch this off ?

We watched for at least 10 minutes, during which time I must have counted each brick in the fireplace twice. Anything but look at the screen or the priest, or my grandmother for that matter.

Finally it was switched over to the news.

Longest ten minutes of my life.
( I_Was_Mordred, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:16, 1 reply)

Licky licky
About 10 years ago, I was at the dentists. I was laying there in the chair staring at the ceiling whilst he was using his instruments of torture in my mouth.

A few minutes later, I noticed that there was something in my mouth between my bottom teeth and my lip. Thinking it was a absorbant swab thingy, I prodded it for a minute or two with my tongue.. It seemed too smooth for a swab so I explored it thoroughly with my tongue.

Then it dawned on me.. It was his latex-glove-covered thumb. I'd been laying there apparently trying to pleasure his finger for the last couple of minutes. The rest of my appointment seemed to crawl past and I couldn't wait to get out of there.

I still cringe when I think about it :(
( mugwump In summary then, oh no. Chris., Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:10, 12 replies)

Actually...
Biggest cringe of the year has to be for the bloke busted in Western Australia this week.
Just google: "pasta sauce jar penis pleasuring arrested"
( difficultchild, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 1:02, 5 replies)

Think before you speak
in my previous job there was a communal kitchen shared by a number of different offices. Every so often, there was a girl who used to use it to make coffee & tea for her colleagues who was just stunning, but i was too shy to say anything.... Sad i know.

Anyway, one day, i thought to myself, 'fuck it, i'll say something', and sure enough, i was in the kitchen making tea that morning and she walked in.

It was my big moment, my chance to make a great first impression..

"Hey", she said.
"Bully Day!" I replied.

She looked at my like i was some sort of sex pest and immediatly walked out.
(Colostomy Bag Explosion Lubing the gears of commercialism, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 0:25, 2 replies)

Why's it so quiet?
Many, many years ago... One day, at school, I walked into one of my lessons and noticed that the usual uproar was absent. Everyone was sitting quietly.

"Why's it so quiet? Has someone died?" I asked jovially.

Apparently, yes, the aunt of one of the popular girls had died that morning. I was one of the unpopular boys for a while after that.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 0:23, Reply)

my friend evie
was miles away daydreaming, getting changed after a session at the gym. realising she had been staring at someone without meaning to, she rushed to compliment the only thing the woman was wearing - a bra.

the woman looked nonplussed and said it was only primark. evie, who hasn't an ounce of fat on her, but is about 5'10 and very muscled, said, "i know but it's so hard to find nice bras when you're a bit bigger, isn't it?"

then stumbled all over the place, saying she had just meant chest size, because the woman was really quite fat.

the woman glowered, then sighed, and admitted she'd recently gained about 4 stone. "oh, i know how you feel", evie blundered on, "i recently gained a few pounds myself."

bit more excruciating silence rewarded that comment, before evie said that it was more common in your 30s, especially those who'd had kids. the woman said that she had indeed gained weight initially because she fell pregnant. feeling back on familiar ground, smug because she wasn't going to fall into the 'when is it due' trap, evie said: "oooh, what did you have?"

"a miscarriage," came back the blunt response.

even evie shut up after that.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 0:22, 2 replies)

Your mum.
It's a generally accepted fact that 'your mum' jokes are the highest form of humour. My brother and I take particular joy in worrying people by cracking them to each other.

When I lived at my old flat, they were de rigueur. I habitually cracked them to my close friends, we all had a good laugh about it.

I was at a gig in April (The Breeders, if anyone cares) and a good friend of mine said something sarcastic to me- something along the lines of 'when are you moving back [to the central belt]?'

Naturally, I responded with 'When's your mum moving back?'

At that point, I realised her mum had died of cancer around ten years ago.

*takes large forceps, removes foot from mouth*
(Generator cannot be named for legal reasons, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 0:11, Reply)

Despite my previous post...
I have remembered two things that even I am a bit embarrassed by.
The first, when we were lil, my sis used to get into bed with me most nights. Nowt wrong with that, we were lil and both scared of the dark and the boogie mom- erm man! One night my sis woke me up. She was sobbing. We were both wet and sticky. Mom hears the crying and the light goes on to find two girls and one bed covered in shit. We both insist to this day that it was each other but in my heart I think I know it was me that farted and followed through.
The other time was one new year. I was older, more grown up and sophisticated, so that must put me around 17ish. I'd gone to my mates boyfriends house for a small gathering. I hadn't met any one except my friend, had never been to this house, was actually a ways from home but I'd been dropped there and was being picked up the following day after stopping over. His parents were away so it was an anything goes party. Except one thing, the bog had stopped working and they couldn't get any one in to fix it until normal work days resumed. No probs, it was wee wees only and chuck some water down from a bucket after.
So I wake up the morning after, beautifully hungover. Take myself off to the crapper and relieve myself of the most vile substances that have ever left my body, all liquidy and stenchful, flush the chain and oh my god, the warning of the night before comes flooding back- the loo- wee wees only- I was that embarrassed I had to shit again. I tried the bucket trick- nope, they were right, it only works on wee, not poop. I could do no more than call a taxi from the phone in the street- no mobiles them days- and wait outside to be carried away from my shame. I didn't see that friend for a very long time and we only just got in touch again on face book after about 14 years, with no mentionof that night so far. Hope I got away with it!
( randomwomanwholikespink, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 0:08, 2 replies)

Academic woes.
As a person who never bothered leaving uni, I have discovered that academic gatherings always feature unlimited quantities of cheap white wine. I have never quite managed to get over the studenty mindset that free wine = drink as much as you possibly can. This makes me very bad at networking.

Last year's Christmas gathering included some of the Big Names in the field. I drunkenly decided to instigate a game of health psychology Pictionary, which I punctuated by screaming out "TESTICULAR CANCER!" every time somebody drew something roundish.

Unsurprisingly, I am not doing my PhD in any of their departments.
( Queen of Cheesecake, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 0:07, Reply)

not me,
but my Mum.

She was just about to take a shit on my chest, when she farted. Not only that, but it was in front of her entire class! Of amputees.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 0:04, 5 replies)

Gotta love Australian expressions...
I stayed overnight on with a farming family a few years ago. Had a great time, played games with the kids, talked and drank wine late into the night with the parents and adult kids. Happy memories.

The following morning, I was in my car, ready to go, with sad farewells. As Mr and Mrs Farmer and their eight kids (aged 20 down to 18 months) stood waving me goodbye (as you do in the bush), I waved back and uttered the classic Aussie farewell;

"See ya later, when your legs are straighter!"

The kids waved back, their dad (a gentle and wise man, who died three years later, way too young) smiled while saying nothing.

He had polio.

The kind of polio that results in really misshapen legs and a huge limp.

It hit me about twenty seconds later as I was driving out their front gate.

Ouch! I called him twenty minutes later once I found a public phone in the nearest town (no mobile reception) and apologised. He reassured me it was nothing and invited me back for lunch. I ended up staying two more days and all was good.

Length? Twenty seconds from utterance to mind-numbing, dizzy-headed shame,
(magentacock is spunking like it's nineteen ninety-nine..., Thu 27 Nov 2008, 23:54, Reply)

Anal
I had just started my current job as a PA and one of the first conversations I had went as follows:

Me: "Hi, I don't suppose you have any records of your travel last year do you? I need to submit them for part of your tax records?"

My Boss: "Actually, yeah - I keep print outs and have them all filed here by my desk, I know - it's a little anal, but I guess it's useful now and then hey?"

Me: "Don't worry, I love anal"

Cue me walking away VERY quickly whilst turning crimson and a quote legacy that will stay in that office forever.
(redshoes, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 23:45, 6 replies)

Too scared to ask to go
30 years later this still makes me cringe:

During the depths of the Winter of Discontent - planned power cuts and strikes meant half the teachers were off and classes were combined two into a classroom.

This meant that not only were we 9-year olds stuffed into a room with some older kids, we were being supervised doing the work we'd been set by the Evil Headmaster.

The school had two headmasters - one a fat jolly bumbly chap who kept cows on the school football pitch and made the place sort-of-fun to be. The other was a mean-faced short-arse who did discipline. He was spoken of in hushed tones and till now I'd never encountered him.

And yet, here he was pacing up and down the desks with a ruler in hand.

What had started the lesson as a vague full feeling. soon reached the full leg-jigglingly painful tautness previously only encountered on motorways... I was desperate for a piss, but so scared of evil-head that I didn't know what to do.

I ended up pissing all over the floor.

Evil-head storms over shouting about, "why didn't I say something", banging the desk. I could only look around for solidarity with the other kids, as if to say, "See? He's mad and evil and banging things. You'd have done the same thing."

But no. They were all pissing themselves... laughing that is.
( chthonic, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 23:42, Reply)

Sunday Lunch
There I was, round my then boyfriends house for Sunday lunch a good few years back with much of his family. Aunts, uncles, nan, various tots, his parents, brothers and sister in laws, all sitting at the table/surround area all digging into the food.

Not listening much to the conversation, just eating and suddenly his dad comes out with 'you two and that bloody sofa bed EEEEK EEEEKK EEEEK(he proceeded to make a very good impression of said rickety creaky sofa bed being used in the throes of teenage passion).

Oh the mortification. I was only 17 and extremely shy. I was so mortified in fact I didn't even react. Did not blush. Did not say anything, just carried on eating as my brain could not accept what had just happened. Even today I cringe at the thought.
(misstrix, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 23:42, Reply)