My Brother
Myself and my brother never got on. Hate each other with a passion, and still do.

So that's why I came up with this little bit of cruelty when I was around 12 and him 9.

Never kept a diary, but I started to for reasons that will become apparent.

I made mention of the fact I was keeping a diary at dinner. You could see my brothers eyes light up. My mum saw them as well, and made it very clear that anyone other than me who read my diary, would be punished severely.

So for the next month, I wrote about crap, with the occasional tit-bit of gossip. I made mention of where I hid $5 in my room, and amazingly the money disappeared.

That was it, I had him. Now for the culmination of my evil plans.

My parents were going away for the weekend. I was staying with friends, and my brother was staying with the next door neighbours. I knew that he would be allowed back into the house for a bit, and that he would use the opportunity to read the diary.

So I put the following in : "My parents told me some interesting news today. Scott the shit has been diagnosed with cancer. He has about 3 months left to live. They told me, as they want me to be nice to him in his last months. They also said they don't want to tell him, as nothing can be done to help him. Be good when he's dead, I'll get the nice room."

When my parents got back, the neighbours said he'd been crying all weekend. Asking him what's wrong, he finally said he's dying. WTF? asked my parents. He said he had read it in my diary.

I was brought in for a yelling, but all I said was "I knew he was reading my diary. I was trying to catch him out." I also made mention about my missing money.

My Mum thought it was a clever plan, and decided to punish accordingly. Thought he suffered enough for the diary reading, but for the theft, got a caning, and I got his pocket money for the next two months.

Result.
(Kaer, Tue 6 Feb 2007, 11:12, Reply)

Shame on you, mum!
Snooping around my younger sister's room one day, I happened across her diary... To be fair, I decided if she hadn't wanted anyone to read it, she wouldn't have left it on her bed with the legend MY DIARY emblazoned across it.

To my relief (and slight disappointment), my sister was a very young and innocent 14 year old, somewhat naive and a TERRIBLE writer. The pages were littered with wistful longings and tired cliches regarding the various objects of her affection - standard teenaged unrequited love stuff.

I jumped guiltily as I heard the front door bang, and thinking my sister was home I hurriedly tried to put the diary back exactly as I had found it, whilst thinking up an excuse for being in her room. As I sauntered down the stairs, my face struggling to maintain its expression of nonchalance, a wave of relief washed over me as I met my mum at the foot of the stairs. A sudden urge to confess and repent quickly followed (lapsed catholic, you see) -

"I've just been reading Holly's diary" I blurted out conspiritorially.

"Yeah, it's crap, isn't it?" my mum replied, without batting an eyelid.

Thank GOD I never kept a diary.
(Badgerette, Fri 2 Feb 2007, 11:32, Reply)

My Talking Book
During a Pride festival last year I completely lost my voice due to too much shouting from a float and having sung in two shows just beforehand. I couldn't make a sound at all.

So a friend bought me a nicely bound blank book to "speak" in. It was fantastic, it was actually really good fun having to get poeple to read everything and people wanted to join in and write things in it. I didn't get my voice back for three days so it recorded the course of my conversations over that time. Now, Pride being basically a huge patry and excuse to get mashed from morning to night for a weekend, you could tell the progress of my diminishing sobriety (and occassionally patience). I quite often look back into it if I fancy a laugh. Much of it I don't remember writing. Here is a fairly representative synopsis of some of it:

"20 Marlborio Lights Please"
"Pint of carling please"
"Thought you were going to the Queens Arms"
"Where the fuck is Andrew?"
"Brighton"
"No I'm not deaf, I've lost my voice"
"I can't fucking lipread just cos I can't speak!!"
"Gambia"
"No you can't, it's MY book"
"I don't try to borrow your larynx do i?"
"20 Marlborio Lights Please"
"thanks"
"about 30?"
"wanker"
"singing too much"
"can't do sign language"
"type of dog"
"8"

(writing gets scribblier and scribblier)
"f U cKKK OOfff"
"is your pill working yet?"
"it's open til 6am"
"i'm going home i'm pissed"
"pint of carling mate" (with a few 'repeat' circles around it)
"he's a cunt and I don't like him"
"i'm pissed see you tommorrow"
"arsehole"
"blue"
"look at that arse"
"hello (actually) i'm writing in your book"
"mine get off"
"!"
"carling"
"can you walk me home i feel ill"
( Actually i was skiving on, Tue 6 Feb 2007, 17:20, Reply)

Not a diary but an interesting history.
My mother went out one day to the shops, like a normal mother would do. She didn't sign off the PC as she is practically computer illiterate, like a normal mother is. I looked through her history and saw she has visited some very mundane games sites, featuring things like solitaire, games a normal mother would play.

I also saw and then proceeded to click on a site which had 'swingers' in the URL, surely she had clicked on it by mistake, this is not a normal mother like thing to do?!. I was the only one that was mistaken. Handily her username and password filled themselves in automatically so I proceeded to look around, her inbox greeted me with such delights that the memories have been erased for my mind forever. I did find out that she likes anal, oral sex, voyeurism, s+m but is not into waterplay.

Then I saw it..that tiny link, the link that would scar me forever, it read 'Pictures'. Cue me staring at my size 20 mother in latex and a small forest....*shudders*. I viewed a variety of pictures including one of her with household objects placed where they should not be placed.



Kill me.
( Wiggle nom, Thu 1 Feb 2007, 22:24, Reply)

Bored at uni
I was living with a few blokes in my final year of uni, and I never really saw eye-to-eye with them.

One night they'd all gone out on one of their regular jaunts to some puke-filled dingy club whilst I stayed in to write my dissertation. Being a bit bored of whatever feminist psychoanalytical claptrap I was reading at the time, I decided to venture into one of my housemate's rooms and take a peek at his rather conspicuous diary.

It was filled with the kind of sub-existential bullshit my housemates were so fond of - along the lines of "I'm scared of the future", "I'm going to be a great novelist" and "I need more confidence".

There were also mentions of all his friends and what he'd done with them, like going to parties and the beach and doing loads of drugs and sex. Each flatmate got mentioned at least a dozen times, but there was only one solitary reference to myself. It was:

April 17 2003
HENRY DID A MASSIVE POO TODAY.

I recall the incident in question, and it was rather large and wouldn't flush. I went out and came home to find ALL my flatmates and one of their friends gathered round the bowl giggling and variously describing it as being "like a trout" and "dark matter".

If that's what I'm remembered for creating I'll die a proud man.
( krang, Thu 1 Feb 2007, 17:04, Reply)

When my brother died suddenly,
We were sorting through all his stuff, keeping any stuff he'd have wanted us to, and giving the rest to charity shops.
I found a digital camera, and suggested to my mum that we check if there were any photos of him on it, that we might appreciate having for the memories.
I copied all the .jpgs across on my mum's computer and we opened the first one up.
It was a fully naked picture of him holding his engorged cock. I think this was for some cyber sex site he had been telling me about a few months previously.
We didn't keep a copy of the picture, but let's just say that both me and my mum will be keeping the image in our mind's eye for a long time to come, like it or not.
( 100% Cock Raw like carrots., Thu 1 Feb 2007, 15:39, Reply)

Diary of an Emo
Monday: No milk for my cereal ... there's no God! I went immediately on MySpace and wrote a poem about it so my 23,000 friends could share. The first line was, "No milk, no God, no hope - I am special." Then I cried a bit and had some toast instead.

Monday PM: Some guys at school laughed at me because I had some traces of eye-liner from the weekend. I quoted My Chemical Romance as they kicked me to the floor and thus secured the moral high ground. They wil not crush my spirit.

Tuesday: I have adopted a new look. My asymmetrical haircut is now beautifully set off with a red scarf and a black and white striped jumper. I bought a Corpse Bride bag from the hippy shop in town and ripped off the toes of my All Stars to appear more bohemian. Wait til they see me!

Tuesday PM: EVERYBODY is wearing the same outfit! I went to the toilets and stabbed myself a few times with my compass. Nobody noticed, so I moaned and cried a bit louder until someone banged on the door and asked if was OK. Then I felt better.

Wednesday: My parents don't understand me. I told them that death is my friend. I'm not afraid of the End - no, I welcome it with open arms; I embrace it with cold and bloodless arms. "But I only asked you if you wanted a pocket-money increase!" yelled my mom. She doesn't understand.

Wednesday: I got the increase and spent £50 on a signed photo of Richey Manic. I have framed it and put candles either side. He is my muse. He knew how to live life to the full ... by dying, obviously. I have decided to become a vegetarian and only buy Fair Trade products.

Wednesday PM: Got some great bargains at Tesco. Black t-shirts for just £3! When I got home, Dad made me suicidal by laughing at my Richey Manic shrine. He said, "Who's that poof in make-up, then?" I told him that I'm a 'poof' and that, like Richey, I am going to die young and tragically. "Well, clean your room first," he said. He doesn't understand.

EDIT: corrected on the advice of Prof. Apeloverage.
(frankspencer, Mon 5 Feb 2007, 9:40, Reply)

Wife, best friend; a common enough tale, but there is a joke at the end!!!
Oh dear, in the spirit of a lot of these posts where we can share the pain of being shat upon by now ex-partners...

3 years ago in the browser history of the home PC I spotted an entry for "hotmail folder: John". Mmmm.. I thought, strange, I only know one John and he's my best mate, now why would my missus have a hotmail account that I didn't know about with a folder titled "John"?

Well, obviously the installation of a key logger that night revealed all the following day when I managed to get into her secret email account and read all the lovely messages and dirty stories they'd been sending each other for 3 months along with the descriptions of what they'd done and would like to do to each other!!!!

When I confronted her that evening, she had no real choice bu the admit it but somehow it was all my fault for "not communicating". She then said that she fancied a 3sum. With hindsight I should have told her then to sling her hook, but my little head overuled my thinking head and I agreed, you see, I still loved her and couldn't imagine life without her and thought that maybe this would help somehow! (I know , I know, hindsight's easy).

So we had a few 3sums, she was a slut during them I'll give her that...but after a while you realise that it's just not right. It took me 2 years to finally realise that she was never going to love me again and that I didn't love her anymore and I eventually ended a 20+ year relationship with the mad slapper bitch!

And now I have a girlfriend who loves me, actually wants to shag me and is incredibly sexy and fun to be with.

And she ,the mad slapper bitch, is having to learn to deal with getting a job , living to a budget and pleasuring herself for a change! I pity whoever ends up with her and her issues!

Guys and girls, a piece of advice, if you catch your partner cheating, it's over, right! No doubts, no way back, it's over, walk away and find someone else! Believe me, I wish someone had told me that 3 years ago, would have saved me 3 years of hell on earth!

And breathe....

right, so to lighten this post up and in a pathetic attempt to get people to click the "I like this" link here's a joke:

Q: Why do mice have small balls?
A: Becuase not many of them can dance!

Click it you b3stards, you know that's a brilliant joke and worthy of making up for the lack of humour in the rest of the post!!!!

Length, girth? The girlfriend says it's too much sometimes but I think she's just being nice!
(anon_is_best, Fri 2 Feb 2007, 16:13, Reply)

My boss's e-mails
(If I get caught, I'm likely to get sacked, so there will be very few details in this story.)

My psychotic breadstick of a line manager went off on loopy leave 6 months ago. As I was the only one who knew what work she'd been doing, I got temporarily promoted to her job. IT was instructed to set up an out-of-office for the breadstick, forwarding all e-mails on to me instead.

Well, she came back a month ago. And no-one seems to remember to tell IT to cancel the forwarding.

(Well, I'm the only IT-literate person here, the rest couldn't find porn on the internet)

So for the last 4 weeks every e-mail she's been sent has been duplicated to me. It's been very interesting hearing what's going on, who's slagging off who etc.

The only tricky bit is trying to remember in meetings what I know and what I shouldn't know.

F x
(please don't click "I like this", I don't want to get caught)
(Flurble - The Innocent One, Tue 6 Feb 2007, 16:36, Reply)

My brother's diary
My brother died quite suddenly and tragically (the story gets better, I promise) and in the run up to the funeral we (family) had a gander at some of his stuff to see what needed chucking/what anyone wanted to save. My sister found a diary he wrote when he was the grand age of about thirteen. She read through a few entries and shed a tear and told me how touching it was and how funny he was, even back then. What page do I open it on? I quote:

I'm going to have a wank, I'll try to get some spunk on the page

*crusty bit of page with a biro outline*

Cue me pissing myself laughing (and dropping the DNA laden diary). You should never find a sibling's secretions and certainly none that are more than a decade old.

Length? Girth? He never mentioned it.
(carpediem, Tue 6 Feb 2007, 15:34, Reply)

Apeloverage's Diary
Monday: Logged on to B3ta and scoured the new posts for inaccuracies and inconsistency. Notified people as to their errors and added half a dozen humourous one-liners. Received a number of messages but deigned not to read them or respond as this is a waste of my time.

Monday lunch: read a book on grammar and drafted a letter to its author notifying him that he had missed a full stop on page 149. My girlfriend came round and said she was feeling horny. "Oh," I quipped, "are you growing horns?" She left and I took some pictures of myself.

Monday evening: Thought about answering a QOTW but decided, on reflection, to mock it and the other posters in a high-minded and sardonic fashion. Added a few posts, including the obligatory pun on misreading the question and the inevitable inversion of the question (finding a bush under porn etc.)

Monday night: My girlfriend came back and said that she was feeling sexually aroused and would like some sexual intercourse. I could not find any fault with that sentence and became exceptionally angry. She left and I made a plaster of paris cast of my head. Needed two packets.
(frankspencer, Mon 5 Feb 2007, 11:32, Reply)

Rated R for drug use and depictions of sexuality
Been the victim on this one.

Back in the high school days, as a fit young lass of 15, I had a private journal containing private hormone-induced rants about my lack of a sex life and private drawings of hot naked chicks (not gay).

I spent the weekend at a friend's house, and on the first night aforementioned journal disappeared. Just *poof* gone. I spent half an hour in a panicky drug-fueled haze tearing through the piles of clothes and whatnot in her room. Couldn't find the fucker.

Two days later, my friend walks in holding my journal. Guess where she found it. Guess.

Under her father's pillow.

Shudder.
(Exempt OH WOW, VICODIN, Fri 2 Feb 2007, 3:16, Reply)

Book by its cover and all that...
A few years ago I flipped open my then-gf's notebook and found:

Wednesday: 10am. Big blow. Lots of white stuff
Wednesday: 3pm. Another big blow. more white stuff
Wednesday: 9pm. Blow. Tough job. Feel absolutely spent.
Thursday 10am: Smaller blow, some white stuff, also some big mucky green and yellow flecks in it.

Just as I was getting ready to dump the wanton hussy and get myself down t'clinic to ward off the knobrot she'd probably got from the greened-off manmilk, I looked at the cover page. It said:

D****'s asthma peak flow expiration diary.
(mochyn, Fri 2 Feb 2007, 20:38, Reply)

Jesus' Diary
Not many people know about Jesus' diary, which was found in the caves of Qum'Ran in modern Palestine. Fortunately, I managed to get hold of some copies on Ebay. They make pretty interesting reading.

25th April: I know, I know - the Judeo-Chjristian calendar doesn't yet exist, but it's going to and you'd all better get used to it. Went down the church today for a quick pray and found loads of merchants in there. Well, I went ballistic and kicked 'em all out. That's going to stir it up at the Sanhedrin methinks.

27th April: Bloody Lazarus playing dead again. Every other day his relatives are coming to me and saying he's croaked. This time I whispered in his ear: "If you pull this again, I'll turn your gonads into loaves." Well, he was up like a flash and everyone started yelling "Miracle!" Yeah, blah blah blah ...

29th April - That bloody Judas! We were strolling around in Gethsemane and he wanders up for a quick kiss. "Not in public" I says ... but at that moment all these soldiers appear. The disciples start acting tough but I tell 'em to calm down. Now I'm down the nick.

30th April - Had a word with old Pontius Pilate. He's got OCD, that man. Always washing his bloody hands! Anyway, he wanted me to stop the preaching and I had to tell him no way. That's my bag, mate, I said. So they're gonna nail me up. Had a wafty crank while the guard wasn't looking.

1st May: Made me carry the cross myself, the lazy buggers. Got a bit lippy with 'em and they flogged me good, the swines. Anyhoo, they nailed to the cross and I 'died' and they thrust a bloody spear in me side just to make sure. That stung like a bastard, I'll tell ya.

2nd May - Rolled the stone away and was 'resurrected'. I was bloody starving, so I took a quick detour across the water and this bunch of fisherman started yelling "miracle!" Give me a break, I thought. I just want a cheese sarni. It's tough being the Lord, you know.
(frankspencer, Fri 2 Feb 2007, 16:16, Reply)

Oh god, no
Not really paper diary stuff but more contents of hard drive stuff.

After twatting round the world as a jumped up consultant I slipped into semi retirement in the Peoples Republic of Cornwall and got me a little computer shop. Pint, pasty and an easy life.

Anyhow, part of my "services" to the local retardery (pedants are particularly welcome to "fuck off" at any lexical or syntactical errors) was to copy the contents of their old hard drive over to their new, inferior quality yet overpriced PC.

My favourite inbreds, in no particular order, include:

- Mr. "X". A 78 year old gentlemen who, after asking me to help download the contents of a digital camera he had bought from me, glossed over the images of his ancient yet hairy and slightly rancid balls sticking out the side of an electric pink thong.

- Mrs. "Y" who took it on herself to sue me for placing copious amounts of pornography on her partners computer whilst it was in for repair. The judge saw the funny side however when I pointed out that the person wearing the lingerie in many of the pictures was indeed Mr. "Y", a noteable transvestite of this parish, and several emails in his Outlook Express were from his "partner" whom he was arranging to meet at the local glory hole.

- Mr. "Z". A particularly ingenious Chav who had kindly photographed all his stolen booty to put on ebay and placed it in "c:\nicked", including three pictures of the camcorder I had stolen from my shop two weeks earlier.

- Mr. "mongthemerciless". An irate computer shop owner that uploaded copious amounts of donkey cock to a chav's PC before calling the police and pointing out its illegal nature.

The amount of husband/wife pron and saucy emails in Outlook was ridiculous.

Loads of length and girth there.
(Mong The Merciless Older not wiser, Mon 5 Feb 2007, 18:27, Reply)

Does it count if they read it to you?
Mrs. God used to keep a diary. These days I keep her too busy to write in it... but this story comes from when we'd only just started seeing each other.

Anyway, we had a couple of hiccups before embarking on life's journey together. She'd decided to break things off, I'd written an email that clearly tugged at her heartstrings, and we'd got back together. So, we're on the phone (yaay for Telewest's free calls tariff!).

I asked her what happened, and she agreed to quote from the relevant section of her diary. And she began reading nice things about how lovely I am, how I was a real gentleman, always opening doors and stuff, but somehow she thought it wasn't going to work. There she stopped.

"Shame," quoth I, unable to resist, "as he's got a massive cock!"

There was an embarrassed silence at the other end of the phone. I apologised. Profusely.

Then she murmured the words I'd been longing to hear: "Actually, that *is* what it says. I wondered how you knew."

We're together to this day.

Length? Girth? Let's face it, it's integral to the story, and clearly quite satisfying.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Sat 3 Feb 2007, 14:52, Reply)

I had a friend who used to keep a dream diary...
so he could remember his dreams and stuff. Apparently a lot of the time he would wake up in the night, write in his dream diary, then go back to sleep. When he woke up the next time, he would quite frequently have no recollection of waking up and writing in his diary.

So one night when I stayed at his gaff, I waited 'til he was asleep, then induced a nosebleed (something I've been able to do for as long as I can remember) and scrawled "SATAN PLEASE LIBERATE ME FROM MY MEANINGLESS EXISTENCE" in his dream diary using my blood.

Unfortunately he woke up before I did, which is a shame. I woulda liked to have seen his face when he discovered it.

Edit: I've been informed that my story is actually quite a popular one online. I've been telling it for the last 10 years. Seems it "caught on." Fuckers.
bash.org/?451603
( MarkyH feels like the H in Bob Hoskins' name, Thu 1 Feb 2007, 23:44, Reply)

I snuck into my own room and read my diary

I'm glad I did though, it turned out I'd been sneaking into my room and reading my diary!
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Tue 6 Feb 2007, 14:18, Reply)

Blogs, Computers etc....
.
A lot of my job entails fixing computers, servers and e-mail systems. Another part is acting as a Mimesweeper Admin where any e-mail that is blocked because of inappropriate content is blocked and a notification is sent to the user.

Now if I want to, I can browse these inappropriate e-mails but, to be honest, I've far better things to do with my time and most of the stuff is blocked because of casual swearing. However, occasionally a user will panic when he gets a blocked e-mail notification and contact me and beg for the quarantined e-mail t0o be deleted immediately. Now those ones I *do* read.

There's was a corker a while back. Some guy had struck up an e-mail relationship with a women from one of our suppliers. What made this one juicy was that the blocked e-mail had the entire history of replies from, when they first started flirting, to now where they were describing sexual fantasies. It had started off mild (I like blow-jobs - I like my nipples bitten) to sheer filth - which was where Mimesweeper had kicked in and blocked the mail. The one that had been blocked detailed what the guy was going to do with her on their first date - that very night.

I couldn't resist.

I inserted a couple of lines so that the e-mail now read:

"And then I'm going to drag my Alsatian dog in while you're still tied up helpless and video him shagging you..."

Then I released the e-mail.

Wonder what happened next.....?


Cheers

Note: I may or may not have actually released that e-mail. Depends who's reading this.
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 2 Feb 2007, 20:24, Reply)

I was working as a cleaner....
....In a local infant school. One of those nasty jobs you have to take when you've got no other work experience and you need cash to get drunk like any normal teenager.

One particular day, just after lunch I was sent off to go and clean the lavvies as was the norm. Now, I don't know what they'd been feeding the little buggers for lunch, but there was shit everywhere as soon as I entered the door.... up the walls, all over the floor, virtually filling the pan. It was explosive. Pretty much like every single child had developed stomach cramps and pebbledashed the toilets. There were all the colours of the brown rainbow.

It took me a whole two hours to clean up and stank of shit and bleach. I'll never forget my personal experience of other people's dia.... hang on... I've misread that haven't I....
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Fri 2 Feb 2007, 14:53, Reply)

Anne Frank uncensored
Everyone knows that Anne Frank's father censored those pages which dealt with her young awakenings, but did you know that he also cut out the more frivolous sections? I bought them at auction a few years ago and they make unusual reading:

Monday 14th June: I was looking out of the window and saw a pair of German soldiers walking beneath. Quick as a flash, I dredged up a glutinous hoogie and spat it down. It splashed against one of their helmets. "Was ist Dat?" they yelled. I laughed so much that I pissed my pants and mama slapped me.

Thursday 18th August: I'm so bored! All I do is sit in this wardrobe and try to be quiet. So this morning I ate a whole jar of capers and three boiled eggs. At lunchtime I had such a terrible fart brewing. Just as Papa was going to eat his first mouthful of soup, I yelled "Watch this!", hoiked up my dress and held a candle to my bottom. A jet of blue flame emerged and the wardrobe was uninhabitable for days! Mama spanked me until I couldn't sit down.

Friday 1st September: Bad news. Mrs Meerschaum was beaten to death last night and her corpse is still in the street. Everyone is terribly sad. Everyone except me, that is. I hated the old trout. She spat when she talked and her breath smelled of herring. As soon as I heard, I asked Mama, "Can I have her lace hat? She won't be needing it now she's croaked." Mama thrashed me half senseless. I hate her!

Wednesday 2nd November: I did such a huge turd this morning! It was so big that I couldn't flush it away and I had to cut it up with Papa's razor. He was livid when I told him and he slapped my bottom until it glowed purple. So I spat on his pillow when he wasn't looking.

Thursday 24th December: It is almost Christmas ... only we're goddamed Jewish so we can't have the tree and Santa Claus. I begged Mama but she said we can't change religion just to have a tree. Why not! I told her I want to become a Baptist and she hit me so hard that I spun round three times before I fell over. I did a little wee in her tea and she didn't notice. That'll teach her!
(frankspencer, Fri 2 Feb 2007, 11:53, Reply)

Dutch bird
I once read this Dutch birds diary, hoping it would be all rampant hardcore sex and drug taking, but all she seemed to do was hide in the attic and be very quiet.
(turtles head is touching cloth poked a dwarf on the forehead at, Fri 2 Feb 2007, 11:55, Reply)

Thanks, B3TA... I Think.
Things haven't been peachy between myself and my BF the past few months so yesterday after reading this QOTW I succumbed to temptation - I googled him and his preferred usernames.

I found him.

Oh yes, I found him in a looking-for-a-fuck profile on a cottaging* site I'd never previously heard of, dick pic and all, last accessed at the weekend when he was away in Blackpool supposedly spending time with his kids. I also found an entry for him on rate-a-rod (I gave it a barely-deserved 1 out of 10). I showed the link to one of my friends, a single gay guy who spends a fair bit of time on gay personals sites - he told me it isn't the first time he's seen a profile for him whist we've been together. He didn't want to tell me because he knew I was determined to try my hardest to rescue our relationship. Bit of a moot point if the BF is cheating, but still.

When challenged about it on his return from work, he said he'd created it that very weekend, 'just fucking about'. It struck me as rather specific, very thorough and considering the state of our relationship lately, fucking dangerous and thoughtless fucking about. Suffice to say, I didn't believe him. The discussion went downhill from there.

So that just about wraps it up for us, I guess. Two years, almost to the day I met him. And now it amounts to fuck-all. Shite :(

* COTTAGING: The practice of men having anonymous gay sex in public toilets. Classy :/
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Tue 6 Feb 2007, 9:08, Reply)

How not to fire someone...
I work for a smallish web-design/software house. Back in the day, we were even smaller and very new - helmed by an ex-bank worker who had never run a company before, and thus, was rather inexperienced at boss-like things such as; firing people being one of them.
Anyhoo, at more or less the same time that I joined, so did one German designer. She turned out to be shit, quite a nutcase and frankly no-one really got on with her; the boss least of all. For instance, I remember her trying to justify to him why it had taken her 3 days to knock up what amounted to 3 circles plonked next to each other as a starting point for a site-design – what most B3tan would do in 3 seconds (possibly in magenta rather than green). When challenged by the boss she'd immediately protest that he "didn't understand the intricacies of design", and such like outbursts.

So fast-forward a week, and he tells me over a cigarette break that Amanda “has to go”. I had no bones with the girl, but still, we weren’t mate either so “fair” thinks I – who am I to disagree.

A week comes & goes, and still Amanda is blissfully unaware at her pending doom. Another week goes, and still nothing. Our new self-appointed boss has yet to garner the balls to do his first sacking and everyone knows it – except poor Amanda.

Of course she finds out in the end of course; about 3 weeks later. It was when everyone was gathered round the boss’s desk for a quick talk on a new website a site that the “ding-dong!” sound of a new email is heard from the boss’s computer.

The email is entitled “Good luck with sacking that German!!” with more text underneath; presumably a follow-on email from a conversation about “so how do you sack some-one?”

It is seen by everyone gathered as it beautifully fades in as a small box into the bottom right of the screen for just a few seconds, and then fades out again - like all new emails in Outlook 2003 do. The boss’s speech trails; the room goes eerily silent. Amanda collects her things and walks out in stony silence.

Poor Amanda*


*Name changed to avoid legal possible implications. No seriously. Oh, and she loved the length.
( slippery doctore, Thu 1 Feb 2007, 19:39, Reply)

virgin shirt
I found out from my sister's diary that she had lost her virginity to Robert Barber in a cemetery, while wearing my prized denim shirt (this was the 80s). Her hymen-breaking hi-jinx caused the shirt to become bloodied, but she hand-washed it that night and replaced it in my wardrobe the next day.

I wasn't offended, however, because I'd slept in her yellow panties.
(frankspencer, Tue 6 Feb 2007, 15:40, Reply)

My father and I.....
After several suspicious items arrived at the house in his name, which he claimed were errors, I decided to follow up my long running suspicions that he was having an affair and hacked into his computer.
There I found that he was less than 48 hours away from cleaning out the house and bank accounts and fleeing the country. He'd applied for a transfer to New Zealand with the company he worked for and had struck up a relationship with a 'madgenz' over there. There were disgusting msn messages back and forth including talk of him showing "his bits" on web cam and him laughing about how stupid we all were and he'd never recieve his come uppance.
I never liked him, never trusted him and I damn sure made sure his uppance came with a vengeance. I told my mum.
An hour later his mate came around to get his stuff. He was still working. I broke his glasses and destroyed his passport.

He's tried to contact me to 'build a relationship. I told him to fuck off and die'
(The Cosmic Fool Became aware that the bird is indeed the word on, Tue 6 Feb 2007, 12:28, Reply)

too wise to write one...
as having an evil little brother meant it was only a matter of time before he'd have a go at it.

but at uni, i started keeping a dream diary, as a friend had told me that when you do it, your dreams slowly get more and more vivid and random. he wasn't wrong.

my roomie sadly suffered from clinical depression, and with her being a great friend, i would regularly allow her to read it, as it always made her piss herself laughing, which was a welcome respite for her.

her favourite ones were 1) everything was normal, except the floor was made out of meat, and 2) there was a small tadpole-like creature called a mender, that when you tickled it would raise a fin and hum the first few bars of 'smells like teen spirit'.

was glad for my subconcious to be of assistance.
(niceandwarmandhot vive la résistance, Fri 2 Feb 2007, 9:26, Reply)

Nope this isn't what I accidently read...... but
Somone at work one day was so bored they decided to type names of collegues into myspace.

They found me! I don't have the nicest profile in the world infact I am quite offensive to alot of people I know....

So for a laugh I typed my name into google. That was a scary prospect if said person at work decides to do that.... I am quite an offensive work hating bastard.


Just for good measure incase this is found... Fuck you and your stupid work in your fucking arse bastards....

You should click "I like this" so it has a higher chance of being found
(Matthew-field.co.uk, Mon 5 Feb 2007, 14:50, Reply)

Mobile Phone Repair
I work in a mobile phone shop, and we had this guy bring in his camera phone for repair. It wasn't powering on due to "water damage". We managed to clear it up and, naturally, checked out the videos.

We then saw what we thought was a cheap porn video. Turns out it was him filming his missus playing with herself. When she finally came, she shot her load right on the phone. She even said the words, "it's gone on your phone," to which the deviant customer replied, "don't matter... carry on..."

So, yes. It smelt like lady juice. And that's what fucked your phone up, pal. Not "water".
(Roll Fizzlebeef enjoys a good Cleveland Steamer, Mon 5 Feb 2007, 13:53, Reply)

number 3
Last winter my pc crashed and as it was still under warranty I sent it away to be completely overhauled. This left me in a bit of a pickle regarding university work but I managed to bribe my flatmate (with weed and JD, much more effective than money!) into letting me use his.

Possibly not my smartest move, as i managed to lose a powerpoint presentation i had downloaded and had to go searching through all his files for it.

I eventually found it in a folder marked with a spanish phrase (which i now know to be "Private, fuck off") among several pictures and movies of his then gf, monthly compiled sex diaries and movies of various rude things he liked to watch on the internet.

I read a good few months of his comments on his almost daily masturbation and the infrequent visits from the gf and other girls at university. Ther was only one phrase that stuck in my mind, as I've mentally blocked every other memory of the experience out....

"shame [name of gf] was on the rag but least we tried somethin new, chucked all the tampons and shitty condoms into skip outside after [monsieur_flange] nearly found them in bin, told her about it she suggested askin him to join next time, bought more lube"


Apologies for, well, just clicking "post this message" really.
( Mister B is eating an icanhazcheezburger with lmaonaise, Sun 4 Feb 2007, 8:56, Reply)