After a traumatic bereavement
which left my family distraught for a long time, my sister suggested that I could try a visit to a spiritualist medium.

She'd heard good things about a particular one and I allowed myself to be talked into it.

Off I went, on Halloween no less.

The 'medium' decided that the person I'd lost was male, (correct) and was often with me at night, (possibly) leering as I undressed. (My own son does this?)

I'm not sure how this fitted together with her belief that I was a lonely Lesbian sports teacher. (I was newly married and straight, wearing trackies that night.)

But love was out there for me - I just had to be patient.

There was lots more crap and I soon began openly laughing at her. She couldn't have got me more wrong if she'd been blindfolded.

I won't be trying that again.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Wed 30 Jul 2008, 7:51, 5 replies)

tiger balm
My friend Nic lived with Rocky, who was a dirty dendrophiliac hippy with erectile disfunction.

Rocky came to Nic for advice with his problem, as his girlfriend was sick of the failed sexy times and was threatening to leave him if it did not get sorted out.

Nic told Rocky of the marvelous healing properties of Tiger Balm. He said the gentle heating would encourage blood to his littlerocky and stimulate the gf in unimaginable ways.

Cue several days later Nic can hear excted moans coming from Rocky's room followed by sulky arguing. It had happened again.

Then he heard Rocky saying loudly
"Don't worry, I've got a solution!"
and bounding to the bathroom to acquire the magic cream.

About 2 minutes later this was followed by screams. they started as screams of pure agony as his man bits burned and his hope of the sexy time dwindled forever and then they changed.

They became screams of rage as the hippy realised he had been duped.

Cue one naked screaming hippy holding his burning cock in one hand, runnign through the house bellowing

"Nic! You Fucker! I'll fucking kill you!!!!!"

It was at this point that Rocky remembered that Nic had guests over and that he'd just run into a room filled with, now very amused, 16 year old girls and a few of his closest friends.
(misskitty reeks of sex and turpentine; laudanum afternoons, Wed 30 Jul 2008, 2:19, 4 replies)

One's own mortality..
Er, probably not the most upbeat of posts, to be honest. But one of the most real...

_{(Wayne's World swiggly line inserted here)}
---------------

Me and my mates have always drunkenly joked about our own mortality (or lack of it). The notion that we are immortal, no-one (or thang) can stop us, we are the un-dead.

How stupid were we! The teenage years provide one with so much bravado that the impossible seems a mere drip in the ocean of reality.

Commence the rolling down steep hills (Windsor Castle anyone?) in shopping trolleys, catapulting into nearby bushes to mask the fall, etc.

Were there injuries? Yes. Not mine tho. I wasn't silly enough to participate in the activities - i merely filmed it!

Youtube to follow.

Length? 2mins 35, if i remember rightly.

--------------

Here's the morose note.......

My Dad's been diagnosed with advanced prostate cancer. That's a shit. He's also got secondary bone cancer. That's even WORSE! Has been having treatment for a year now but been getting progressively worse. Don't believe all the good you hear about the new prostate drug in the news, it can do nothing for advanced patients at the moment.

After medical advice we believe he may have a year with us at the most. I'm thankful i didn't take that time off travelling like i wanted to. USA & OZ is always there for me after all....

Sorry for the rant, it's just a real note at the end of a genial remark to QOTW. I know others have been through this too. It's just hard at 26 and being the youngest - a real Daddy's girl - no puns intended you dirties!

x
(Saire_B, Wed 30 Jul 2008, 1:03, 13 replies)

Hot Hot!
On the way home in the car once, I pressed the cigarette lighter in, left it for a bit, and then pulled it out.

At this point I decided to see how hot it was by putting my finger on the end of it.

Didn't half smell. Got some quality pus out of it a few days later, mind.
( milkybarnick is calming down Boris on, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 23:46, 2 replies)

Ghost Car
Not quite a pointless experiment, but I've been reminded of the game we 'invented' from a previous posters comments about driving round with your car lights off.

We do this down the country lanes near where I live, and its called Ghost car!

What you do is drive round at night and if you hear another car coming turn off your lights, and then as they come towards you put the lights on, wave and then turn your lights off after you've passed them.

Or even better if you're coming up behind someone turn the lights off then, as you appear from round a bend put all the lights on!

Ghost car rules lol!
(Lord Monkey of Yorkshire,OBE killed a gipsy on...., Tue 29 Jul 2008, 23:33, 6 replies)

Trampolines and Bricks
I wanted to see how high I could bounce a brick on a trampoline just out of boredom, er I mean for scientific reasons. It didn't bounce very well by itself, so I figured if I held it whilst I bounced to great heights it would work better.

Turns out it works rather well, a bit too well.

It bounced and bounced and for some reason bounced left.

Bounced left of the trampoline straight into my Uncles car windscreen, his new car, his new Mercedes (I have no idea which model or anything it is as I don't care).

Result of this : Me, a very skint student having just got back of Erasmus, having to pay to get it fixed 3 days after my 21st birthday.

Boredom is a rather expensive affair!

Fluent (",)

Who wants length when everyone wants the depth?
(Fluent In Bentish Living in Scatman's World, tis being fun!, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 23:28, Reply)

Experimentation...
I kissed a girl and I liked it!





(sorry!)
(Lord Monkey of Yorkshire,OBE killed a gipsy on...., Tue 29 Jul 2008, 23:21, 3 replies)

good old yellow pages...
Back in the days when I was a lowly advertising salesman working for a bunch of ignorant monkey fucking knuckle dragging suited and booted cock sucking sheep loving conmen bastards, I decided to liven up the day in the office, and me and my American friend who also didn't give a shit decided to see how weird we could get without anyone commenting, he spent one day wearing one black shoe and one trainer, no one noticed.

On one lunch break i spent half an hour sat in my chair at my desk with a cardboard box on my head with a photocopy of my face on the front, no-one commented.

We used to ring someone in the other office on the internal line and hung up, apparently he got paranoid and left due to stress thinkisng someone was after him, whoopsie.

Then there was the yellow pages competition, the trick was to sit at your desk and run through your calls, your usual sales pitch etc, with a copy of the yellow pages balanced on your head.

The only time anyone ever said anything was when another colleague wanted the Leeds Yellow Pages which was balanced on my mates head at the time, this guy removed it, and then replaced it on my mates head with a sheffield yellow pages!

And if it sounds like the office, then yes it was with its own Brent and its own Gareth. I'd write a book about it one day but I'm not allowed sharp objects.
(Lord Monkey of Yorkshire,OBE killed a gipsy on...., Tue 29 Jul 2008, 23:19, Reply)

Crushed Matchheads
As with quite a few of these stories, mine also starts with the Anarchist cookbook. There was a section in there about crushing matchheads to make some kind of tennis ball bomb which I found quite interesting at the age of 11.

After crushing 3 huge boxes of safety matches with pliers into a mound of match powder, I could only obtain non-safety matches. Of course as I crushed one of them with the pliers it sparked, I panicked and dropped the lit match into my pot of dust.

The flames reached the ceiling and I had a hard time explaining to my mum where my eyebrows went.

DONT USE NON SAFETY MATCHES!
(Jimmy Large Is huffing Jenkem on, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 23:05, 4 replies)

"What if I make a cross between a bacon sandwich and cheese on toast?"
Food of the gods!
( le brian, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 22:41, 14 replies)

Pointless experiments
"What is smoking a cigarette like?"

All I knew is I wanted to try again, and again, and again...
( jim_bob can herd cats., Tue 29 Jul 2008, 22:33, 7 replies)

Pointless tests
I used to work for an environmental analysis lab. One colleague had to write a, "Sick Building Syndrome" report on an office as a result of a legal wrangle. The entire thing was rubbish but one thing stood out; an "ambient light" test. Result: "The level of incident light increased as the external optical interface was approaached". Translation: it was brighter nearer the window.
(DustyD, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 21:51, 1 reply)

Self-expression
I've recently moved across the Atlantic to America, leaving my lovely mr vitamin c behind in London. I'm going to be here for 2 years, and due to the fact that neither of us is hugely wealthy, and neither of us gets decent holidays, we're going to both be celibate for 2 years, minus a few weeks of holiday time (the first one being October).

Now, mr vitamin c is very in touch with his body, and more than happy to have intimate moments with himself when he needs to. I'm not - I'm a total prude, have somehow been brought up believing sex is sinful and masturbation doubly so. Although I've kind of got over the sex hang ups, I'm not totally at ease with myself. This means that for the past 3 weeks, I've been getting hornier and hornier, to the extent that I've actually been in tears twice with frustration.

On saturday I decided that enough was enough, I'd have to take matters into my own hands. I was fairly keen on purchasing a mechanical friend to help myself out, but they're illegal in the state I'm living in (ah, the Deep South, so lovely).

so I experimented a bit.

Results are as follows:

1. a wal-mart neck massager is an acceptable substitute for a vibrator.

2. a cheap vibrating toothbrush isn't, mainly due to the ear-drum popping noise it makes.

3. nor is an electric razor.

and perhaps most importantly from my point of view:
4. olive oil is not a good lubricant. Nor is mint and tea tree shampoo.

can't wait until October now...
( ascorbate, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 20:51, 13 replies)

I shaved, down *there*
17 or so. Rather blunt blade, no idea what I was doing. I was merely legs akimbo lying at the mirror and decided it would be a good idea. I didn't really walk, sit or sleep properly for a while after that.

Snipping random bits off is a bad habit of mine. Bits of fabric off clothing, bits of skin, seeing what will happen with food and scissors, shaving teddy bears...

I *hope* this is common.
(mmmm curry doesn't really understand this sig lark, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 20:48, Reply)

Can networking sites find missing people ??
i62.photobucket.com/albums/h109/jonnysmith15/maddie.jpg

that would be a no then....
( Mr Nerdy-Speccy-FuckNuts Ouchy ouchy wa wa!, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 20:29, 1 reply)

Hmmmm Dandy spriggun!
This really wasn't my experiment i take no credit for this in the slightest! When i was a boy of 6 my older brother wondered what would happen if he inserted his remote control car aerial into my nose and then control the car! To his delight it worked perfectly and could still jump his makeshift book ramp, Whereas i didn't display the same wonder as i writhed about screaming.
(a7sinns i'd do anything for you dear anything....., Tue 29 Jul 2008, 20:24, Reply)

Job of my dreams!
Whilst i was working at a psychiatric hospital i thought it would be hilarious to give the office staff a busy evening! In that days local paper the company had listed some job vacancies. So the experiment was this. How many patients could we get to apply for these magnificent positions before they catch on to what i'm doing...... well of course i didn't let them apply i did it on behalf of them putting on my best welsh scottish american accents funnily enough i was busted after just three calls.
(a7sinns i'd do anything for you dear anything....., Tue 29 Jul 2008, 18:42, Reply)

drain brain
I have always had an overwhelming compulsion to insert parts of my body into things to see if they will fit, usually with rather predictably embarassing results. Here are just a few of the more spectacular examples...

Exhibit 1. I once put my foot down a small square drain up the road from where I lived (I was 12 at the time) It did fit.. but because the small square I had squeezed my foot into opened out into a bigger gully below, once my heel popped back out I was completely and utterly stuck in said drain. My mother, and subsequently the fire brigade, were called to get me out - and the bill to repair the pavement took months of my pocket money to pay off.

Exhibit 2. I once got my finger stuck in a wrought iron picnic table in a pub garden on a first date. The kitchen assistant who was summoned with washing up liquid & butter thought it was hilarious. I never had a second date with that guy.

Exhibit 3. I was on a flight with my family (aged about 10) and the button on the end of the seat arm to make it recline, was missing - leaving a rather invitingly finger-sized hole. 15 mins later I had to admit to my mother that I was stuck again, and that I was beginning to lose the feeling in my finger. After a lot of pulling and grunting the whole arm of the seat came off. My mother looked down the cavity of the seat arm and determined that since my finger was turning black, this had to be fixed right away. She made me put my hand up high to slow the blood flow, and then marched me the entire length of the plane to the stewardesses at the front. Of course they didn't have any butter at the front of the plane, so I was marched, arm up high, with an entourage of rescuers to the rear of the plane, thus ensuring that there was not a single person onboard who was not aware of my predicament.
( oucheh I am have confused, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 18:33, 7 replies)

fly trap
When I was about 6 or 7 I think, I captured a housefly under a thimble on the windowsill of my room (it was sluggish due to chilly weather rather than me being some sort of ninja thimble-wielder). I decided to keep it there and see how long it lived - then promptly forgot all about it. About 4 weeks later I saw the thimble and thought, oh my I guess it died - but when I lifted the thimble-prison it was still alive, and crawled weakly towards the sunshine which it had been deprived of for so much of it's short life. I felt so amazingly guilty that I nursed it back to health with sugary water until it gained enough strength to fly out of the window.
( oucheh I am have confused, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 18:18, 3 replies)

mind power
When i was 9 i cycled very fast towards a brick wall whilst concentrating very hard in order that my mind would pull on the brakes and stop in time.
One broken arm later i discovered that i was in fact a bit of a tosser and had to accept that for the rest of my life i would have to stick to the conventional methods of the world.
(John Elton, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 18:06, 1 reply)

pains
not long ago i got hold of a staple gun.
i stapled myself in the soles of my feet to see if it would hurt... surprisingly no, not much
( Scopey Ethyl ME! ME! ME! ME! ME! ME! ME! ME!, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 18:02, Reply)

Hilti bullets
As a young boy I had the usual fascination with fire and explosions. At one stage I found that scraping and compressing match heads into an empty .22 cartridge resulted in some pretty loud bangs, which obviously pleased me. I began building wire rigs and mounting these cartridges into them, in effect suspending them rocket-like. I’d place some flammable material underneath, light it and stand well back. It was great fun to begin with, but became pretty boring after a while.

Things got a lot more interesting when I discovered a stash of Hilti bullets in an odds and ends drawer in my dads workbench. I became pretty adept at prising the tops open and carefully scraping the explosive content out. I say fairly adept as there was one occasion when I managed to set one off while in the process of removing the contents. Aside from the nasty burns to my fingers, I almost crapped myself waiting for my father to barge into the room investigating the cause the ear splitting bang. Weird that nobody seemed to notice; I was in the basement of our house under the TV room at the time.

My crowning achievement had to be my very successful experimentation with projectiles and cannons. I built a series of tiny cannons that fired ball bearings (acquired from bicycle wheel axles). I cut small bore tubes into two inch lengths, crimped the ends, loaded them with my Hilti bullet mix, put a ball bearing into the ‘cannon’, fixed the tube to a wire rig and added heat to the crimped end. I was lucky not to kill anyone; on one occasion I had one of the things shoot a bearing 15 feed across a room. The ball bearing lodged in the door, almost coming out the other side. If anyone had walked in at the moment of ignition it would have gone right into their head…

Then there was the time I discovered that syringes and petrol make great mini flame throwers…
(Gyck Ryder, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 17:33, 2 replies)

I have found snails to be sporting types, in that they happily participate in my serious scientific experiments.
Here are three examples - incidentally, no harm was caused to any gastropod and all were released into the wild afterwards.

1. What do snails like to eat and drink?
A. A snail placed on a saucer with a choice of beer or milk and chips or lettuce will go for the beer and chips every time.

2. Can we vary the colour of a snail's poo?
A. Yes, by feeding it multicoloured foods. The snail will poo straight afer eating and the colour of the poo is decided by that of the food.
Hundreds and thousands give a striking 'rainbow' effect.

3. Can a snail be induced to hold a white sugar strand in its mouth, so that it looks like a king-sized fag?
A. Yes, after about half an hour's gentle coaxing.
(Doing this had my young nephew in helpless tears of laughter.)

Experimental snails - more fun than chimps or beagles.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 16:54, 10 replies)

Wild Turkey Brain Death
Many years ago for reasons too pathetic to go in to, I found myself really needing a drink. I was too poor at that exact point to go out, or even buy a bottle of wine. All I had at hand was about a third of a bottle of Wild Turkey bourbon I’d been saving, the 101 proof stuff.

I decided to conduct an experiment. There wasn’t enough to get hammered, so I reasoned that if I couldn’t drown my sorrows I could try torpedoing them, for the night at least. Being a youngster, I hadn’t really ever drank a lot of spirits before and I thought it might be interesting to see what happened, which was all the justiciation I needed.

So I downed around 20-25 CCs of 50.5% ABV Austin Nichols charcoal filtered nectar in one go.

After about ten minutes, I stopped coughing, retching, blowing my nose and rubbing my eyes. Lifting my head off the table, I realised what had happened.

I had become very drunk very quickly. Fuzzy head with buzzing noises. Visual-spatial judgement fucked. Sight not working properly. Co-ordination like a fucking newborn foal. And I was still tense as hell.

Drinking it so quickly meant that I hadn’t become physically relaxed in any way, as one would when enjoying a drink responsibly. And it hadn’t had the usual distracting qualities allowing me to listen to music, watch a film etc. Felt really, utterly absolutely fucking awful. And it took me ages to get to sleep cos of the roaring in my ears.

All of the bad things about being drunk and none of the good. Bah.
( The Vomiting Hitchhiker Mephistopheles is such a mouthful in Manhattan, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 16:47, 2 replies)

Carrier Bags.
Specifically the ones from takeaways.

"Why is it that they will happily sit in lanfill for hundreds of years, yet when asked to contain the oily overspill of last nights curry they fail miserably and seep the stuff out of an apparantly otherwise sealed container?"

Not quite an experiment but perhaps someone has an answer.....
(never-right -getting it wrong since '78, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 16:42, 2 replies)

Little Britain?
Little Britain is full of this.

So a bloke in a wheelchair can really walk and when his carer isn't looking, he's get up and jump into a pool, or jump a wall, etc...

Hilarious. I was on the floor in stitches. Probably through having fallen asleep standing up through bordom and hitting my head on a table or something.

Yet, still, people proclaimed this 'the funniest thing ever' etc...

I just don't understand how 2 series of the very same, ahem, jokes, can win awards. Did the judges not actually see the programme?

Same goes for the fast show, vic and bob's big night in and virtually every episode of Friends.

EDIT: oops, thought I was replying to the experiment about watching the fast show and attempting to find something funny. Sorry.
(dchurch bah, Tue 29 Jul 2008, 16:41, 3 replies)