My Biggest Disappointment
Was that I realised I didn't have low expectations.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:33, Reply)

At the moment
my lunch. My temporary housemate and I are on our way out shortly to see Narnia so I made myself a quick plate of chips and mayonnaise, that I have been craving for some time.

The chips were soft and soggy like Stalker Boy's tie (he used to chew it) and the mayonnaise was rancid; had a strange backtaste to it*. I knew I should have had spaghetti on toast, or ramen. You can never go wrong with ramen.

I'm sure I'll think of something better later.

* and yes, I AM sure it was mayonnaise
( Maladicta, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:30, 9 replies)

"You should watch this film, I think you'd like it"
It was unusual of my brother to recommend a film to me. First of all, he was older than me and off experiencing this that and the other at university so had no time for an A-level student like me anymore. Secondly, his idea of cinema was a chance to switch your brain off, not something to be reviled and shared with others. The fact that he’d taken the time to give me a recommendation was enough to pique my curiosity and send me to the cinema.

Over the course of 136 minutes, I sat captivated, my mind completely engrossed in this rollercoaster ride of a film. I'd never experienced a feeling quite as emotionally overwhelming as I did when watching this modern day epic. Even the lead role being played by a notoriously bad actor couldn't detriment my experience of this film. I walked away realising I'd just watched the best film ever made.

I wasn't alone in my love. Word of mouth caused the popularity of the film to spread like wildfire. Within months, there wasn't a single person I knew who hadn't seen it, and the praise for it seemed to be unanimous. The unity that this film could bring between strangers and the ice breaker in conversation it served as showed that its cultural effect had spread far beyond the big screen.

That film, of course, was The Matrix.

In the ensuing months, rumours flew abound that there would be a sequel! No, a prequel. No, a prequel and a sequel! No, TWO sequels! Discovering that this classic was going to have two sequels was fantastic news! The anticipation was too much. The excitement of the prospect of two more instalments of this was something I wanted NOW, not in three years time!

Fast forward to years later, and the release date lingered just a month away. I was living in Chandlers Ford now and the ensuing release date had stirred the excitement once again that had lain dormant whilst the film was being made. We ensured that we pre-booked tickets for the first available performance. Sure we were paying full-price despite being placement students with an insultingly small pay-packet. How could we not? This was the sequel to The Matrix after all. Not something trivial like Christmas.

The days rolled by slowly until eventually the great day came and the queue at the cinema (yes, people had turned up early and queued despite having pre-booked tickets and seats) was wrapped in an electric atmosphere that saw a line of chattering people all buzzing with nervous energy in anticipation of the spectacle they were about to witness. Those last few minutes felt longer than the months that preceded them.

Then we watched The Matrix Reloaded.

I could easily stop there and label the baffling mess of a film as my biggest disappointment, but that wasn’t it. I'll admit, I came out of the film feeling deflated, not to mention confused, but as is with these things, a lengthy debate then started at the pub next door to try and make sense of what we'd just watched and debate as to whether it was worth it. Opinions ranged from "That was absolute shit" to "You have to have faith that the answers will be in the final part" via "Come on, you had to love the special effects!". Whenever someone starts commenting on the special effects of a film, you know it's the sign of shenanigans. I made a mental note to buy that guy Waterworld on DVD when I had some money. Despite all these warning signs, we'd communally managed to convince ourselves that the best was yet to come and in the meantime we could content ourselves by shouting "NEO DIES!" at the lobby of the cinema as the next lot of fools awaited the late showing.

It wasn't long until the final instalment was due thankfully. With a second part of a trilogy like that, it would have been cruel to expect people to wait another three years for the final chapter, so with a weary optimism there was a positive reason to look forward to winter that year.

The ensuing months involved a lot of 'net browsing to see what others had made of the hundreds of open ended questions from the second part of the trilogy. It was a conspiracy-theorist playground out there with everyone and their dog having an opinion on what was in stall next. Their tales were fanciful and engaging. It actually managed to stir my interest once more as some of these theories managed to sound pretty interesting, reminding me that I shouldn’t lose faith in the same writers who delivered that startling original.

By the time December rolled around, I'd pretty much finished the trilogy in my head already. I had narrowed it down to going one of four ways, all of which were fairly ambiguous, but I was eager to find out whether I was right. I stood in the queue of the cinema once again, feeling more nervous than before. As nervous as though I were about to take an exam.

Then I watched The Matrix Revolutions.

From start to finish.

And I wondered.

Where's the money, Wachowski?

Cunts.
( ma0sm, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:29, 7 replies)

any Final Fantasy game after FF9
I got into Final Fantasy when I got version 7 for the playstation on Christmas day 1997 - instantly hooked!!! I loved the gameplay, enthralled by the storyline, I shed a tear for Aeris when she met her untimely end and was scared shitless by Sephiroth (that music!!) Brilliant!

Final Fantasy 8 was even better! Graphics phenomenal, gameplay great if not better than 7! Wonderful storyline and a massive sense of achievement when I finally beat Ultimecia. The music sends a shiver down my spine. Awesome.

Ditto FF9 - awesome game, thoroughly enjoyable.

But every Final Fantasy game released since seems to be a massive letdown, despite all game magazines raving about them. Lately I tried so hard to get into FF12 but they just seem so soulless and bland. I don't feel like care how the characters develop, I just plough my way through as quickly as possible to somehow reach a point in the game that reminds me why I loved the older ones so much, but as yet haven't found that moment. So it is now on my shelf gathering dust while I try Kingdom Hearts out..

:o(
( h3donist tryin' to play me out as if my name is Sega.., Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:28, 8 replies)

Rhino - the MASK headquarters on wheels
My designated Main Crimble Prezzie.

The days counted down toward the 25th - the prezzies started appearing under the tree from parents, aunts, uncles and friends. But still nothing... quite the right shape.

Finally, Christmas. The yuletide countdown to number one on the radio, grannies sweet assortment arriving to accompany the annual gift distribution presided over by dad.

No Rhino. Turns out 'Father Christmas couldnt get hold of one' (eg slack 'rents didnt get to the shops in burton on time to pick up that years crimble must have)

Rhino eventually came for my birthday at the end of March (Easter, people! Easter!). Just wasn't quite as good as it could have been.

Oh. And The Mummy Returns was utter Man Mank.
(magictorch, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:25, 3 replies)

It was a Friday evening
Life was good.

I had come home from band practise where the new songs were coming along nicely and the old ones had sounded great.

Dinner was in the oven, QI had just finished and I casually flicked the TV over to Channel Four. The adverts were still in full flow, so I chatted to my flat mate a bit, knowing that the half an hour to follow wouldn't involve any talking, just lots of laughing.

My subconscious detected it first and an overwhelming sense of frustration, deep and bitter annoyance, and, ultimately, disappointment washed over me. My concious mind faltered for a moment, then came the realisation that something was very, very wrong.

What was it? That music, that doesn't sound like... it's not what... wait... it can't be... surely, no. Fuck my boots, this isn't Peep Show. This is big brother. Peep Show is finished and in its place is the deepest scrapings to come from the shittiest telly barrel ever coopered.

In all my years I fail to remember many occasions where I felt more was wrong in the world.
( Moey, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:21, 3 replies)

Charles Dickens
"Great Expectations" No where near as good as I thought it was going to be.

Oh! and real life lesbians (in the North at least). {shivers}
My God! Pornography has lied to me.
(smells-like-victory-v's, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:11, 6 replies)

The new Top Gear series
Based on the first episode on Sunday, they've finally run out of ideas. Neither informative nor funny, except the whole police car bit which raised a few chuckles.

Or maybe I'm finally growing up?

Also "Turn Back Time" on Dave. How can you put Dara O'Braieiaaien (or however you spell it) and Terry Jones in a studio together and get so few laughs? It ended up as a crappy cross between Room 101 and This is your Life.
(Axeman Jim, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:10, 7 replies)

Gnarly looking bloke.
I had a vistor round the other day it was my housemate's friend.
He was a huge scary looking chap and I was advised that he would be staying a few days.
It turns out he enjoyed a bit of banter and didn't mind if you took the piss out of him.
He asked to meet up the following week for another bout of piss taking.

I met him last Wednesday at 3pm and that was my big guest diss appointment.
(oneinthepink is at your cervix m'lady, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:10, 2 replies)

*coughs*
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
( Cawl, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:08, 22 replies)

Probably our honeymoon
I can hardly bear to type this. We were skint, she was six months pregnant. My Dad bunged us a £100 or so and we re-visited an earlier scene of my shame and disappointment: Bournemouth, where I'd flunked in year one of a catering degree. It was April and it fucking pissed down. We were in a shite B&B and after a very mediocre pizza and red wine we returned to our room where Mrs G threw up spectacularly for the next couple of days. Didn't have sex once.

We try never to think about those three days. Luckily, shortly after we first met (a couple of years previously) we spent a truly heavenly couple of months hitch-hiking in France and living the life of Riley on the Algarve (if Riley was a pair of horny sun-worshippers with a love of good, cheap sea-food, few inhibitions and boundless energy and stamina).

We also steer clear of St.Valentine's day and most anniversaries - over-rated, the lot of them. If you ever fancy seeing whether it is actually possible to kill someone with a look, try throwing a surprise party for Mrs G. I wouldn't even dare think about it!

p.s. Cheers for all the clicks for my advice last week - truly unexpected! Nearly makes up for the honeymoon.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:08, 3 replies)

Signs
The M Night Shyalamanamanamana film.....

Sixth sense I thought was brill, didn't twig he was dead at all... scared the living piss out of me...

But this!!!!

An alien race invades, with all the obvious connotations of the vastly superior technology and their ability to completely devastate the human race, and how does Joaquin Phoenix defeat this malevolent and unstoppable foe? Ah yes, he twats him with a stick.

Bloody sack of Arse.
(tinypod will never learn. Ever., Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:02, 12 replies)

Careers
Probably the various moments I finally realised I was never going to be/do any of the following.

In no particular order...

Astronaut (depends if Branson gets arse in gear really)
Pirate
Cowboy
Professional footballer
WW2 RAF Pilot
US President
James Bond
WWF wrestler
A tiger
The fifth member of the A-Team
Rock star
Animator
Celebrity chef
Rollercoaster tester (do these even exist?)
Drive the Mystery Machine
Fly an X-wing
Polar explorer
Best-selling author before I turned 21


I'm still holding out hope of climbing Mt Everest though (and the X-wing *crosses fingers*)
(Milo Minderbinder, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:01, 2 replies)

Ditto first time sex...
Not quite as good as masturbation, with the added hassle of requiring delicate negotiation, significant expense and a guarantee which was voided long before the cringesome memories.

Bah.

_{Gets better with practice though}
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 26 Jun 2008, 15:00, Reply)

At the zoo I used to work in
I was in charge of ordering the veterinary supplies. One Wednesday Laura, a rather tasty animal handler, told me that Gordon, one of the male gorillas was falling over and couldn't keep his balance. She thought it might be a bad inner ear infection and asked me to order some antibiotic cream. I rang the suppliers and was told that the medicine I wanted was only available in 10 Gallon drums. I had no choice but to order it.
And that was the biggest dizzy ape ointment I ever had.

sorry.
( Lord & Lady Pants, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:59, 4 replies)

Easily.
Primary school to high school.

Going from a sleepy grammar school with some wonderful childhood friends and pretty much being god there, teachers who thought I was the best thing since sliced bread and a music scholarship offered...

To being bullied for four years, getting shit grades at GCSE, and being ignored by anyone who didn't insult me.

And then I got to college...

Sorry for lack of funny. :(
(TheHBoxster is probably playing Beatles Rock Band on, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:52, 3 replies)

dissapointment
Adult life. I would define it as the moment you leave the comfort of the parental home and set out for the adventure that the rest of your life is sure to become. In reality, you get a mortgage, get stuck in a dreary job, grow old and wonder why you haven't done any of the things you wanted to do with your life. On the plus side I am now able to afford all the toys that I couldn't have as a kid, and wanking is so much easier with internet porn than with the jazz-mags of old:-)
(urgle-splurgle molesting small goats since, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:51, Reply)

Sacrilege
"Love will tear us apart..." sang Ian Curtis in 1980, his own tragic lyrics would be scrawled on many a Goth's canvas schoolbag, accompanied by a suitably mournful melody that evokes memories of many an ill starred teenage tryst and remains a somewhat chilling insight into the self destructive mind of it's author.

Few people can fail to be moved.

Twenty three years on from its release, I stumble upon a live version recorded at Glastonbury and featuring New Order (nee Joy Division, sans Curtis who wasn't contactable by seance).

clicks on mediaplayer

Oh dear lord... Sumner's murdered it. The resigned solemness of the original is replaced by punkish angry wailing. I couldn't imagine a more inappropriate vocalist short of Johnny Rotten.

Don't do it kids.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:50, 9 replies)

That Happylittletulips
post turned out to be a joke. I was looking forward to some really smutty tale.
(Bazongaloid, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:47, Reply)

I used to love macaroni cheese
Our school was in quite a rich area, full of the children of lawyers and doctors, who had moved to the suburbs so they could commute into the city every day. The school grounds used to belong to an old mansion, and the only part of the original building left was an old tower, on two levels, attached to the school by a little bridge on the upper floor. The top level was Mr. Smith's maths classroom, and beneath it was a sandy-floored shelter.

The deer used to come to the round room. They would shelter under it when the weather was bad. I used to go and watch them at lunchtimes when I was going through my manic-depressive stage in third year, and wish I could be a deer, it seemed so much easier than school. Then the fourth years discovered that the walls under the round room served as an excellent hideout for all kinds of forbidden activities.

I remember the time I knelt in some deershit under the round room. It was the day I lost my innocence.

At fifteen, I was the school geek, the sad, lonely one who sat in the corner at lunchtime, nose in a book, whilst the other girls, the cool ones, chattered excitedly about boys. They all had breasts, and wore tight, short skirts, tight like clingfilm around their little hips, and they knew about kissing and what fucking and screwing meant. I was still flat as an ironing board though, known as "Holland" (after a particularly excruciating geography lesson), and had no idea what the other girls were talking about. However, when I hit sweet sixteen, I was flooded with hormones, and I discovered the previously hidden attraction of BOYS. I was besotted with one of the cool kids, one of the unattainable sixth years, with his amazing body, and clear skin, and deep voice. Unfortunately, so was everyone else, so I was left with Andy, the other geek in my year.

He was a tall, lanky, piss-streak of a boy, with greasy ginger curtains for hair, which he continually swept to the side, to get them away from his glasses. His hair was combed into a centre parting, which ha obviously been done using a ruler, so straight it was, and it was as greasy as a chippie floor. He also had the worst acne I have ever seen. A face made of pizza with extra mozzarella, which had been under a grill for too long. Some of his boils had obviously burst when he wasn't squeezing them, and a thick crust had formed over them. His nose, forehead and chin (the infamous T-zone) were like a field of boiling lava, with the constant `put! put!`s of exploding plooks. He also had a large hairy mole, which was continually being threatened with drowning in the pus, on his left cheek. We used to watch it in horrified fascination in classes, waiting for it to make a bid for freedom, but it never did.

My memories of him are full of pus and grease and the metal braces on his rodenty teeth. But it never bothered me, because he was gagging for it, like me, as horny the school orchestras' brass section (which, owing to an enthusiastic brass teacher, was exceptionally well endowed with horns that year). Like a dog with two dicks.

It was at lunchtime that he made his suggestion. It was macaroni cheese for lunch; we were in the school canteen as usual. The macaroni was being dropped onto plates by the clinical-whites clad tyre stacks that were employed solely to put pupils off their food. They all had bristles on their upper lips, evil in their hearts, and stank of sweat and cabbages. The macaroni that day was leaden in weight, and as solid as could be in consistency, like week-old porridge that has been left out in the pan, consolidated crud. It didn't taste much better, either, but we were starving. It was whilst we were eating that Andy put forward his proposal: "So, we gonna do it today, or what?" He wasn't renowned for his romantic tendencies, more for his onanism, but we were both such raging masses of hormones that we would dry hump a fence post, so I took him up on his offer. Of course, I knew this meant a trip beneath the Round Room.

We sat on the hill next to the round room, kissing wetly in the well-pounded grass, indulging in a bit of dry mutual masturbation as we waited for another couple to finish up. As we kissed, his spots were bursting, and when we eventually broke away for air, I could hear the crackling of dried pus breaking its bonds from where it had formed a little bridge between us. Eventually the other couple left, in a blushing post-coital hurry, and we headed into the pit of iniquity together.

Once beneath the high roof of the circular chamber, he unzipped his trousers, and whipped out his little willie. Well, I was shocked. These things should come with warnings - I had never seen anything so ugly before, and remember I had seen his face. It was all red and raw looking down the sides, as if it had been rubbed furiously with sandpaper for weeks (which, in retrospect, I presume it had been), but the top of it was purple and surrounded by a crust of what looked like cottage cheese. And the smell! Did you ever read those reports in the paper of a body being found after six weeks because neighbours complained of the ripe odours emanating from the room? Now combine that smell with ammonia and stale piss. I near boked then and there! However, my teenage hormones overcame the initial repulsion, and I was fascinated - did all boys have one of these? It explained so much! Andy was holding onto his little one-eyed trouser snake with such delicate tenacity, that I wondered if it would fall off and break if anyone else touched it.

He looked up at me then, and said "blow it for me". Well, what's a girl to do? I bent down, and blew gently on his mini-truncheon. "No, not like that, like this!" He told me to kneel down, and I did, putting my knee in a pile of deershit (still warm and squidgy, it seeped through my tights like soft cheese through a sieve), and he put his hands on the back of my head, and forced it towards his middle leg.

Do you remember the smell I told you about? Well it was much worse close up. Accompanied by an equally repellent taste. I couldn't help myself. I vomited. Copiously. Huge great chunks of macaroni cheese and incredibly liquid bile covered his now limp cock and spilt down into his grubby boxers and the trousers, which were crumpled around his knobbly knees. The vomit was almost everywhere on his lower body. There was a small silence before I struggled to my feet and ran away. My last image was of him standing there looking pathetic; white beneath his cheese encrusted face, flicking spew from his fingers and his marshmallowed penis.

Disappointingly, it put me off macaroni for a while.


Apologies for length, or lack of it in his case.
( ascorbate, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:46, 21 replies)

Leaving B3ta alone for half an hour and coming back to page 2 of a new QOTW
Bloody hell, you lot are fast.
( le brian, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:46, Reply)

Tarantino
Im with Dr Kermode on this one, everyone raves on about his films, but no, honestly, they are at the best average and at worst shambling ego driven monstrosities of utter wank.

For example Reservior Dogs. A more boring Heist movie I have yet to see, ooh a man bleeds to death all film, ooh someone bitches about not tipping, ooh an ear gets cut off. thats it folks, film inna can.

Kill Bill 1 & 2. Just watch the Beat Teakeshi film Zatoichi instead please, or any of the pre-hollywood Jet li films, even if they are hilariously plotless, still better than this tosh. Homage? tripe is closer im afraid.

Pulp Fiction. rubbish rubbish rubbish, again I was sooo disappointed by this film its staggering.
(Halfy By light alone, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:44, 12 replies)

Finding out last week that
my company has put a freeze on all pay rises and will not be paying bonuses.

To say I'm disappointed is an understatement.

Might take up a career as an undertaker. There'll never be a shortage of folk popping their clogs.
(Errorist, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:44, 1 reply)

Three Words
Scrappy. Twatting. Doo!

As I said to BGB before, little metaphor-for-impetuous-youth bastard!
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:42, 1 reply)

On holiday
in sunny North Wales one year. We travelled for what felt like hours down twisty, turny roads heading to The BBC Dr Who Experience in Llangollen.

Everybody in the car is very excited, and looking forward to an afternoon of Dr Who goodness, even my older brother who can't stand the show!

We finally find the place only to discover that it had closed down two months earlier!

We howled in frustration, all that time for nothing! I myself was right in the mood to lamp somebody! Then is struck us, we were in the middle of North Wales, in a tiny town, with bugger all else to do, and a long drive back to the hotel! Fucksocks!
(Herr Doktor Lemminge Is bored, so cheer me up!, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:42, Reply)

The Future..
I assumed as a kid born in the 70's that by the year 2000 it would all be spaceships, hoverbikes and laserbeams...

And its not.
Everything is still shit. :(
(Phlash, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:41, 8 replies)

Shallow but true.
Realising at an early age that I was not going to grow into a pretty and petite women.


Now I have more sense I realise I'm better off the way I am.
( girlinthehole, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:40, 4 replies)

Following on from The Resident Loon's post below
I am also an engineer, civil engineering with a major lean towards hydraulic modelling.

Now I can't speak for every type of engineering, but you get lured in with talk of working on big projects with lots of influence and with the chance to look at the finished article with proud and say "I did that"

in reality there aren't enough high profile projects to go around so these go to the favourite companies.

Even within a high profile project the day to day tasks are just as mundane and dull as every other crummy project that is on the go.

Personally I spend most of my time at work making flood or wave models. This sounds reasonably interesting right?

In actual fact I spend 50% my time looking at Excel, 45% looking at error messages, 4% wishing I had a faster computer, 0.9% telling the client why it isn't working and 0.1% enjoying exciting animations of flooding that are the result of my hard work.

and engineers don't get paid enough!
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 26 Jun 2008, 14:40, Reply)