Lucky Silver Dollar
I was given an American Silver dollar by my dad when i was young. I carry it with me everywhere. When i was in Baghdad a couple of years ago a baddie took a potshot at me and the bloke i was with. My lucky Silver Dollar was in my breast pocket at the time...I didn't usually keep it in this particular pocket, but for some reason slipped it in there that particular morning.
You'll never guess what happened? Yep that's right...the lad with me took the bullet in his leg.
Now that's what i call a lucky Silver dollar...
(Thursday Sugar Bowl, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 14:21, Reply)

Well, wouldn't you?
My mate Peter, throughout his whole school career, would wear a safety pin attached to the front of his blazer.

Any enquiries as to what the heck / bloody hell / fuck it was doing there (and there were plenty) resulted in little but a knowing look in reply. Or a cavalcade of obscenities, depending on what mood he was in.

One day in the 5th form a bunch of us were pissing around in the woods out back of the playing fields, and somebody got a splinter in their hand. I looked at it, little bit nasty and trapped right inside the skin. I said "what you need now is a sa...."

Everything stopped and as one, we all turned to Peter who was proudly proffering his safety pin with a big shit eating grin on his face.

He'd waited six years for this moment.

I slapped the pin out of his hand, we kicked him into a ditch and pissed on him. The fucking cunt.
(Ali Bongo 9000 Ali Bongo 9000, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 15:31, Reply)

Buttttt Pluggggg.
If you skip back to "lost" as a QOTW, I told you about a tiny vibrator I made and subsequently lost.

To continue the line of Humpty-Made metal sex-toys, I discovered the joy of manufacturing butt-plugs in my spare time at work. I have limitless supplies of surgical-grade stainless steel, so it's free and fun.

Now... If your missus enjoys a digit in the tradesman's entrance, She'll enjoy a discreet butt plug. It fills that gap and tranfers movement... But if it's a steel one, it is FAR cooler as it has some serious inertia. As she moves, (or as you move her) it'll wobble around :o) Rather enjoyable. I have friends who have asked for one... thier missuses report similar satisfaction.

Anyhow, Science of anal toys aside, I will bring you on to my latest creation :o)

Although not of normal or traditional design, this more batton-like toy has a secret. The reason for the paradigm-breaking shape is this ... Half of the mass of this thing is internal steel balls that rattle back and forwards when you move it. Before you ask, it's 3 pieces welded together, (with balls in tube-bit) and then machined and polished. Mercury would have been better than balls .. but it's hard to come by.

The idea is that while giving the lucky recipient a good shafting, the balls will rattle back and forwards, and give added sensation: theory as-yet un-tested. It tinkles rather loudly, and Finished with one of my old 2.4mm Titanium BCRs, it looks kinda cute.

To cut a long story short, I habitually walk around work with a rattling butt-plug in my pocket. The "dink-dink-dink" as I walk makes me smile :o)
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Mon 31 Oct 2005, 18:24, Reply)

A car door.
When I get too hot I like to be able to wind the window down.
( grey kid is breakdancing to save a community centre, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 16:42, Reply)

Doorknob
At school I used to carry a doorknob. In the sixth form common room we used to have a store room where the doorknob was missing on the inside. It used to be a great game to shut some poor soul inside and hear them bang on the door to be let out.

When it was my turn I just let myself out and enjoyed the looks on my captors faces.
(BearWithLittleBrain, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 15:02, Reply)

A Genuine "Guess Who" card
...that looks scarily like me....and my name is Daniel.

i4.photobucket.com/albums/y123/smuj83/lookalike.jpg
(smuj83, Wed 2 Nov 2005, 10:31, Reply)

Not me but...
My friend has an incurable bowel disease. She used to have to carry a notebook and pen everywhere she went to record her movements. Each entry had to specify time of poo, amount, colour and consistency, in some detail. We used to call it her log book.

It must have made interesting reading for whoever found it on the bus.
(Pachey, Mon 31 Oct 2005, 14:06, Reply)

A wee nipper
When I was about 5 years old I had a dream that I wanted to be a bus...

No, not a bus driver. Or a bus conducter. But, my friends, an actual bus. I planned on been a double decker red bus with an open top. I think I once went on one when I went to London.

I would pretend to be a bus, collect bus timetables and plan my routes to all over my town of upbringing (Bradford).

This was before the days of electronic bus numbers on the front of buses.

My essential item was, therefore, the cardboard tubing found in toilet rolls and kitchen towels. I would write numbers and destinations and place the said toilet roll on my head. I would then "drive" around the house and when I reached my destination, I would spin the cardboard toilet roll tube and my destination would be changed.

The great thing was that, to the utter embarrasment of my mum, I would insist on doing this in public making bus sounds: "Nrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, nrrrrrrrrrr, nrr, pssshhhhhhh. Nrrrrrrrrr"

Now, at 18, I consider myself to be normal.
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 17:16, Reply)

A railway ticket to Paddington from Gloucester dated 05/10/1999 in my wallet
Woke up to get my usual 6:30 ish train, when the missus wakes up with the raging horn and postpones me for half an hour, meaning i have to get the later train.
We reach Reading and have to stop as there has been an "incident" ahead. The train i was meant to be on had crashed badly, and the carriage i usually sat in was towards the front where some of the 31 dead had been.
So the moral of this item is:If she wants nookie in the morning, don't turn her down to avoid being late.

It also doubles up as a season ticket free pass for a quickie in the morning
( Ulic hissing slightly, Tue 1 Nov 2005, 14:03, Reply)

I always carry
the smell of gin and a slight feeling of regret
(Bunnygirl, Mon 31 Oct 2005, 11:51, Reply)

Essential items.
I always carry 30ft of 2 condoms with me. Everyone took the piss until they heard I got stuck in a lift, and managed to get everyone off in 5 mins.
( Malchick, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 17:39, Reply)

Just my keys
But I've made it my mission to whittle down all the essentials on to my keyring, which now has the smallest bottle opener, a compass and a usb drive on it. (which shows what a man I am)

Also, why is it girls seem to carry so much change around with them? They never seem to remember it until they get to the front of the mile-long queue.

What goes through their minds?

Laallaalalalalalala what a horrible day it is, I must get some lip balm to cheer me up, cor, that's a long queue, ah well, tralalalalalalala, it's barely moving at all, it'll take me ages to get back to the office, lucky I emailed everyone this morning, drumtetumtetum, I better scowl at this harmless guy to show how annoying queuing in this long queue is, what can be taking everyone so long? they're all so useless, not like me, my cosmo reader's quiz said I was a great multitasker, oh look, my turn now, here you go, here's my lip balm, now why are you looking at me like that? what? Oh yeah, I have to pay, don't I, why is she looking so frustrated? why isn't she helping me get this sack of 1ps and 2ps out of my handbag? when else could I have counted out the money for this lip balm? jees, nobody cares anymore, oh hang on this lipbalm isn't made from yulang-yulang, I'm sure no-one will mind if I just go and swap it quickly...* (Which just shows my chauvinism, mmmm, not making too good an impression here)

*May not apply to all women**
^{**I'm sure Monica Bellucci always has the correct change ready}
(Garnett, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 16:02, Reply)

I always carry
a bar of chocolate... not because i am diabetic, it's just so i can eat it infront of fat people.
(Squizza, Fri 28 Oct 2005, 22:11, Reply)

A set of Supercar Top Trumps Cards
My younger brother and I occasionally get the train home together. He forgets we are in public and spends most journeys pinching me/punching me/slapping anything I'm trying to read out of my hands/making faces at me/making strange noises to get my attention/generally irritating me to the point of fratracide. So I take the top trumps cards to play with him, in order that he behaves.

He is 23 years old, and I am 26.
(Vernie, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 16:15, Reply)

I carry...
some small rubber contraceptive devices around with me in my wallet... until they expire… then I buy some more.
(Minty Hit, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 14:28, Reply)

Everywhere i go
i always take the weather with me.

Also for some unknown reason im having trouble cookin' in my kitchen.
Its awful.
( MrSparky, Tue 1 Nov 2005, 22:46, Reply)

I despise carrying bags, so never really take anything with me
although this does remind me of a funny story;
A friend and I had taken the bus into the city and were sat next to each other chatting. We were sat in one of those seats where people can sit opposite you and travel backwards. Eventually one woman comes and sits opposite us and after a little while begins to look at my friends foot in a confused manner. Thinking nothing of it we continue talking and my friend crosses her left leg over her right, only then do we notice what the woman opposite had looking at. Dangling round my friends ankle is a pair of her pants. She proceeds to quickly pull them of her ankle and shove them in her pocket.

How did they get there? Well it turns out that the night before, as she was getting ready to sleep, she'd pulled off her trousers and underwear in one, so her knickers were sittting there in her trousers when she came to put them on next day. As she put her trousers on she had put her foot back through her pants and had worn them round her ankle for the majority of the morning, and neither of us had noticed.

Not something that she always carries, but a funny story none the less.
( Fluffy elephants, Sat 29 Oct 2005, 1:11, Reply)

Guess the prank's on me
I read once about a guy who carried a jar of mud in his car with him. He figured the cops would pull him over sometime. "What's in the jar, son?" "Just mud." "Riiiight. Hand it over." Several thousand dollars worth of lab tests later: it's mud.

Ha ha! What a cool idea! Off I go to the river and get my very own jar of mud. Jar goes in the back seat. Winter comes.

*Physics lesson*: water, including that included in mud, expands when it freezes, causing a sealed glass jar to shatter (coefficient of linear expansion).

*Another physics lesson*: water, including that included in mud, thaws when the temperature climbs above 0 C.

*Life lesson*: melted mud is very tough to get out of cloth car upholstery.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Fri 28 Oct 2005, 14:59, Reply)

a large, throbbing
erection
(Carling, pint of, Fri 28 Oct 2005, 11:00, Reply)

A long time ago
…I used to carry a small gold ring... until they stole it from us, our precious. Curse them! WE hates them! It's ours it is, and we wants it!

Sneaky little hobbitses!!!!
(Minty Hit, Fri 28 Oct 2005, 10:04, Reply)

It's like Mary Poppins' carpet bag
When I was hanging out with some friends when someone started complaining about a cold. I reached into my bag and pulled out some cold and flu pills.

When I was running a t-shirt giveaway, we couldn't open one of the boxes of shirts. I reached into my bag and pulled out a small dagger. Not a knife, a dagger.

I was working on a play when someone found splinters on a prop. "Too bad we don't have any sandpaper," says she. I reached into my bag and pulled out several sheets of sandpaper, all with different grits.

Working on the same play, someone needed a beer mug as a costume piece (we were all supposed to have them attatched to belts) I reached into my bag and pulled out three metal tankards and one wooden one.

A friend was saying that she wanted some fish net stockings for her Halloween costume, but couldn't find any. I reached into my bag and pulled out a pair of said stockings, with vinyl corset tops.

What do I carry around with me? Apparently, everything in the known universe.
(dragonrose, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 18:49, Reply)

When I was younger...
say...10 or 11...I went through a phase of carrying a 'survival kit' around with me. It was an old hot water bottle cover that I'd sewn a strap to to use as a bag (I was a very, very strange child) and in it I kept:

Whatever little money I had
Some fudge
clean undies

I walked around very smugly telling everyone how if I was stranded on a desert island I wouldn't starve and I'd have clean pants.

My brother asked what I'd do when the fudge ran out.
(Pixel, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 17:27, Reply)

apart from the occasional smell of booze and cigs
i always carry my lucky mini 8 ball pool ball keyring. i like pool, 8 is my lucky number and if I ever run into a bunch of gnomes playing pool in a forest who have accidentally potted the black into a weasels burrow then i'll be Mr. Popular.
( canyousmellonions? spirit is willing but flesh is spongy, and bruised, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 14:32, Reply)

Floaters
My friend (I’ll call her Susan - that is not her name but she needs to be protected in case for some fluky reason she can be identified from this story), was going out with this guy that she was quite keen on, and it soon came time to be introduced to his parents.

They went to his folks’ place and the evening was progressing fairly well, until Susan decided she needed to go to the loo. As she was a bit nervous, she needed a number 2, but try as she might, the bastard wouldn’t flush away. Cue much desperate flushing and the minutes ticking past as she got more and more sweaty and frantic. Eventually her bf knocked on the door to ask if she was OK. She made up a feeble story about touching up her make up and he went back to the living room.

In a panic she then grabbed a load of loo roll and scooped the log out of the loo, wrapped it up tightly and placed it carefully in the bottom of her handbag, where it stayed, safely swaddled, for the rest of the evening. Now THAT’S odd.
(Mad McMad, Wed 2 Nov 2005, 15:50, Reply)

Life Aims...
A long time ago, I began carrying around a piece of A5 paper in my wallet with some essential numbers on it. (This was many moons before the introduction of PDAs - or PDAs that I could afford at any rate). I can't really date the piece of paper, except that the phone numbers all have pre "01" area codes and, in amongst the numbers, is the phone no of one of my very first girlfriends. I guess this means this "essential" piece of paper has been in my wallet for over 15 years.

The reason I've not thrown this piece of paper away is because I scrawled on it, one daft and distrubed evening (and I suspect this isn't terribly original in any event), 25 life aims - things I planned to do with the rest of my life. They are (in their full glorious entirety, sitting under the phrase "Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try."):

1. Make love to a beautiful woman.
2. Parachute/hanglide.
3. Write a book.
4. Sing in a band.
5. Play the drums.
6. Become extremely proficient in something.
7. Be happy.
8. Never lose touch with old friends.
9. Visit the world.
10. Try almost everything once.
11. Own a fast car.
12. Have few regrets.
13. Live in a foreign country.
14. Go to Glasto.
15. Drive someone wild in bed.
16. Complete my music collection.
17. Become famous.
18. Get fit.
19. Play sport for my county.
20. Watch England play.
21. Marry someone I love.
22. Stand up for my ideals.
23. Have a well paid enjoyable job.
24. Have perfect children.
25. Die happy.

Why do I keep this? Why is this essential? To keep me on the straight and narrow? To cross off the things I achieve? To persuade me to aim higher?

No - to remind me not to be such a twat.
(lolly, Fri 28 Oct 2005, 16:31, Reply)

Not me, but my mum
Insisted on taking glass beads to Africa.

"Why mum?"
"To trade with the locals, of course"
"Oh, right"

She also insists on taking wellies and sandwiches everywhere. Apparently "You never know".

I don't get it
(ralphseviltwin, Fri 28 Oct 2005, 16:08, Reply)

I always carry
this huge chip on my shoulder
(loquis, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 15:29, Reply)

salt
Small packets of salt. Useful for causing severe pain with open wounds, making magickal circles or general magick cleansing, throwing over your shoulder for luck, making water dense enough to float in, making water habitable to marine fish, melting ice and as an effective facial scrub.

But I don't like chips!
(Cryptoprocta has abandoned the username of Voodoo Mary, Wed 2 Nov 2005, 13:00, Reply)

Not now but soon.
Stupid bloody photo ID; because I'm not an adult.

I'm lovely and 15, nice and tender... and soft... and succulant... ahem. And of course the envy of all those a few months older than me. 'Why?' I hear you ask. Well to be 15 on London Underground means that I get tickets at less than half price. How pissing delectable. Now I have come across a little problem.

Coming out of school, (a school well known for having children in it) I attempt to buy a ticket. The ticket machines no longer sells child tickets because of those pesky little Japanese tourists bulk buying child tickets. So as always I move over to the miserable old git that sells the tickets, quite a nice bloke really. Have a chat with him, he gives me my £1.40 ticket and says "Oh, by the way, from Jan 2 you'll have to have photo ID." Now already this is getting on my nerves, I have to have photo ID because it's us childrens that are obviously going to bomb London Underground. Now I can see the thing, they need photo ID for me to prove I'm not a 40 year old japanese tourist... yes that's right, looking at ME won't do the job, they need a little piece of paper to look at instead.

So let's get to the point, today (well yesterday really) I'm attempting to get home from some godforsaken end of the universe (the universe if from zone 6 north to the river). Now there's this lovely little jobsworth behind the desk thing, obviously masturbating to the power she's been given. I go up:
"I'd like a child single to **** please."
'Who's it for?'
"Uhm..." Now there are three Italian men standing behind me, getting their money ready so they can pay for their own tickets, they are essentially the only other people in the station. "me."
'Do you have photo ID?'
"Uhm, I don't need it until Jan 2, no?"
'Do you have photo ID?'
"No, can I have the ticket now please?"
'Can't give it to you.'
"Uhm... and?"
'£3.80'
"GAH? I'm a child, look at me, short and pasty, I came out here to your world, the world where the magic day star shines and now you tax me for it?"
'Don't care, 3 pounds eighty pennies.'
"I was told that I wouldn't need photo ID until Jan 2."
'No, you need it now.'
So I pay the money. And I take my overpriced piece of sodding paper and I swear alot to myself and partially to the hag who again, masturbates to the power that she's been given.

So let's look at this situation.
1. I was in NO WAY informed that I'd need that ID today, I was told on January the fucking 2nd, by more than one person.
2. The idea of public transport is that it's transport for the public. I need photo ID to be part of the public? Surely that's restricted transport, it's not public at all. What would someone from sunny Glasgow do? They'd have to smile and pay that bloody £3.80.
In conclusion today I was robbed by London underground. They suddenly change what they said to me previously with the sole intent of getting money out of me. Also this now 'public transport' is no longer public unless you're willing to pay more than you are obliged to. It says 'If you are under 16 you are obliged to cheaper tickets.' Well where the fuck are they then?

All in all I was robbed today for £2.40. I might take action, I might... WRITE A LETTER!

So the silly thing I have to carry is photo ID for no apparent reason, and only because I'm a child... fuck off.
(Frozen_Banana Shaved against the grain; thoroughly unrewarding., Fri 28 Oct 2005, 0:12, Reply)

A small pot of Vaseline
I've always had dry lips, but the turning point here was the time my mates stacked an entire pack of salt + vinegar pringles on my face (vertically) as I slept.

When I woke up the next morning, my lips had absorbed all the flavour coating and were bleeding with dryness. It was agony. Thus the portation of petroleum jelly.
(ProudClod, Thu 27 Oct 2005, 14:23, Reply)