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This is a question Greed

Buzzkillington says: "I once worked for Pizza Hut... Whats the the worst thing you've ever done for money?" And while we're here, tell us about greedy people you know. Money or pie, it doesn't matter.

(, Thu 14 Apr 2011, 16:30)
Pages: Popular, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

As a small boy I was in joplings (a department store in sunderland), if my memory serves, with my grandmother. We went to the cafe for a drink and I noticed a huge dish, taller then it was wide, filled with ice-cream. "Nana!" I cried, "What is that?"
"It's a knickerbockerglory." she replied with a small smile, clearly knowing where this was heading.
"Can I have one, can I? Pleeeeeeeeaaase!!!!" I pleaded as only a 4 year old can.
With a flash of her false pearly whites, my Nana agreed to spend more of her pension then I like to think on a truly decodant amount of ice-cream.

A waitress came and took our order. "Nigger bogger glowy please!" I half shouted in my excitement. Before I knew it, IT arrived. The dish towered way over my head. Clearly, this was a Herculian task, to ask it of a child was sheer madness. Undaunted, I stood on my seat and attacked with the enthusiasm of a kitten jumping at a shoe lace. How my grandmother laughed as I dug in, I tractates the first jelly layer, then the second, I was making good use of the super long spoon. Outer customers watched in what was either awe or disgust as I fished out the final chunk of peach and dropped my spoon into the empty dish.

"Gosh, is that all gone?" asked my nana, her smile from ear to ear. "Would you like another?".
I still remember her laugh when I said I would.
(, Wed 20 Apr 2011, 0:24, 9 replies)
cat story.
Rescue cat, found by a (heroic) Bensons 4 Beds delivery man. One eye hanging out of her face. Taken to vets and she sat there in her cage unwanted until we discovered her and claimed her (for she is a PIRATE CAT!)

this is her: b3ta.com/board/9702685

She was very still and timid when we got her. Wouldn't move so much as a whisker and was not very big. Now, however, she is best described as shaped like an egg on legs. She doesn't have much use for money but dear god she will hunt and kill a box of cat treats like the predator she isn't, and if she can't find them? Nothing will remain on any surface likely to be hiding the box. NOTHING! So; she is a wrecking ball for cat treats.

Length? about a foot and a half including tail but she's not far of that as a diameter.
(, Wed 20 Apr 2011, 0:00, 5 replies)
I had a job in a posh restaurant once.
One day this rather portly gentleman walked in, and the manager called us to one side and warned us not to show any amusement at his size - he was known throughout the area to be a well-paying customer, although a lttle curt, and one would not tolerate any cheek.

To cut a long story short, the gentleman in question ended up sampling virtually everything on the menu, and we the staff were becoming seriously converned about his health. He was pretty disgusting, too - food all dribbling down his front. We wondered whether he was even going to be able to remove his vast bulk from the chair, he seemed to have swelled in size so much due to his large meal.

However, we didn't have to worry about his leaving: a small after-dinner mint proved to be his undoing. Ultimately the customer met a rather unfortunate end due to his greed - I think that there's a lesson there for all of us.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 23:47, 14 replies)
An Epic Battle
When people mention great battles that have been fought through the history of time, there are a few that immediately spring to mind; David and Goliath, Gettysburg, Waterloo and Stalingrad to name but a few. However, there is one battle that leaps straight to the forefront of my mind; a battle that lasted almost an hour and a half and that left one child a worn, tearful but eventual hero. A battle that defines courage and guts; that shows what one can do if he is determined enough. The battle I want to talk about is mate Ashley versus his own bowels, when he fought with them for 90 minutes to avoid shitting his own pants.

The greed part of this story comes from the sheer amount of food that Ashley had consumed one morning. We used to have an eating challenge which we named Toast Rally. Basically, it involved putting 4 slices of bread in the toaster. As soon as they popped up, they had to be buttered and then replaced in the toaster whilst we consumed them. Rinse and repeat. We would see how many slices of warm, buttery toast we could eat. Ashley was particularly good at this game, and my brother and I had watched in amazement on numerous occasions as we watched Ashley break both our records and his own every time he took up the Toast Rally Challenge. On this particular Saturday morning however, he surpassed himself. He managed one full loaf of white bread, plus a loaf and a half of wholemeal bread. Now this itself was new, as we normally only used white bread - but we ran out and Ashley felt he could carry on, so we had to switch to wholemeal. Still, it was a fantastic feat and we agreed that the new record would stand.
That afternoon my brother, cousin, Ashley and I were playing football on the green outside the front of my house. I think I must have been about 14 at the time. We had two goals set up and were playing 2 on 2, using a very small football. Every now and again, I’d run across to the front window and peer through at the TV so I could check the latest football scores, which would disrupt the flow of the game. We also had to stop whenever a car went past as we had a tendency to be a bit wayward with our shots. However, these small pauses in the afternoon’s fun were nothing compared to the waiting around we had to do when Ashley’s battle began.
As I ran towards goal with the ball, I saw Ashley approaching me, defending his goal. I neared him and thought about an early shot, but decided that I’d try and take it past him before slotting the ball into the goal. I was a couple of yards from him, when without warning, and quite hastily, Ashley dropped to the floor and lay face down on the grass. He was stretched out, but he crossed his ankles and I could see that he was clenching hard. Despite witnessing him fall down, I scored my goal and celebrated before we all gathered round him and peered down.

“What are you doing?” asked my brother. “You could have saved that”.


Ashley responded with one of the wettest farts I have ever heard. His hands quickly went from being flat out on the grass above his head, to cupping his bum cheeks. We all burst into laughter, apart from Ashley.
“Oh God, I really need a shit”
“Go to the toilet then”, I said.
“I won’t make it”, Ashley whimpered, his face still sunk into the grass.


Once again, Ashley let out a wet, meaty fart.
“That must have been more than just air that came out”, I joked, but Ashley didn’t laugh, he stayed where he was and let out a silent groan.

For the next ten minutes we just stood over Ashley, trying to make him go to the toilet, but he remained on the grass. Eventually, he made an effort to move, and slowly but surely, he got into a crouched position. As we egged him on, it looked like he’d finally got the beating of his bowels, but then he let rip with an almighty air biscuit that threatened the safety of all of our nostrils. He collapsed to the grass again and rolled back onto his stomach at a rather impressive rate.

“What the fuck are you doing?” we asked.
“It won’t come out if I’m like this. If I move I’m going to shit myself”. By now Ashley was beginning to panic. My cousin probably didn’t help his composure at all;
“Well it looks like you’ve got two options. Shit yourself now, or stay here all night and shit yourself in your sleep”.
Again, we all chuckled. How nice it was watching someone struggle to hold in an ever-nearing poo. I was so glad it wasn’t me.

As the battle went on, Ashley got braver. He nearly made it to a standing position quite a few times, but on each occasion, he’d fart loudly before collapsing to the floor again as if he’d been shot by a sniper. The game of football had been ended, and we were all sat down, chatting idly, occasionally stopping to go silent and watch Ashley’s efforts to make it the very short distance to my house, and then laughing as he farted and fell down again. After about an hour, his face was purple, and he had made an imprint in the ground from where he’d been laying for so long. Still he fought the urge to soil himself. Bored, we started chanting, trying to help spur him on,
‘ASHLEY, ASHLEY, ASHLEY’ we sang in unison, but it was no use, he was still unable to make many movements.

Just when we were thinking of going in to get something to eat and leaving Ashley where he was, he spoke. His face turned to look at us,
“Get me a large stick”

“A stick?”

“Yes, and hurry”

For some reason, none of us asked questions despite being intrigued, and we went to a nearby tree to find a stick. Peering back at Ashley, I saw that he was still in the same position. I wonder what people looking from their houses must have thought he was up to. My thoughts were interrupted, “Found one!” said my cousin.

We went back to Ashley and handed him the stick. It was about half a metre long and five centimeters in diameter. Ashley rolled over onto his back and looked up at us.
“This is it; I’m going to make it now” he said, as if giving himself motivation. Still, none of us knew what he was up to but we watched excitedly, secretly hoping that he’d follow through eventually.
Ashley began to stand up again, and as before, farts flew out of him like he was a deflating whoopee cushion. Rather than collapse to the floor as before though, Ashley poked the stick through his shorts, into his sphincter and waited until he could move again. He was soon in a standing position, with the stick still held firmly in place and we were all in hysterics at what we were witnessing.

We watched as a determined Ashley waddled ever so slowly across the road and through my front door, punctuating his walk with farts that reverberated off of the stick. He was calm though, and taking his time, using the stick as a safety barrier. He had to stop every couple of paces and regain composure, but after an almighty struggle, he had made it into the house and to the toilet.
We cheered as the front door closed behind him, our eyes filled with tears of laughter. What we saw that day will never leave me; it was a true display of courage and determination. It was the talk of our group of friends for the next couple of weeks.

Ashley vowed never to take up the Toast Rally Challenge ever again.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 23:46, 10 replies)
Greed is the first of five GIFTS...
GREED - The most important of the five GIFTS, to win someone over is to save them money or offer them a scenario in which they can reasonably expect to gain financially with little or no effort.

INDIFFERENCE - Even the lamest of slack jawed retards can smell desperation a mile off. It is important that the customer feels you have nothing to gain personally from the transaction and certainly nothing to lose by NOT closing the deal. By conveying indifference, but nonchalance, this can easily be achieved.

FEAR OF LOSS - A sense of urgency is required to quickly close a sale. By emphasising the limited availability or time frame for which a particular product or service is available you can manipulate the customers expectations, so they conclude that to postpone a decision will result in a financial loss (see greed above).

TONE OF VOICE - Ronseal. Use the tone of your voice and sentence structuring to make interesting that which otherwise would be, er not.

SHEEP - We naturally follow our peers like sheep. We feel comforted to know we are not on our own, blazing a trail out front. So to shepherd your folly in to saying YES to the deal, reassure him/her. "Your neighbours are doing it, the chap in the newsagent does and he saves a fortune etc...".

These are the basic rules of direct marketing. I learned them when I was 17 while employed on a commission only basis to door-step shops and businesses with with the aim of getting the proprietors to sign up for discounted utilities. For gas I got £10 and electric I got £15. Tax free. So potentially £25 per business that signed up. I made a fortune. At best it was about £150 per day 6 days a week. At 18 years old.

So the worst thing I have done for money is exploit the five gifts to bend people's will so that the outcome suits my own needs and desires. I even signed up my parents. The Shame.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 23:07, 9 replies)
I put up with
a jealous, whiny, batshit insane knob-end for two years.

And have been with another passive-aggressive selfish bastard for another two years so far...

... in return for two great kids.

There are no sperm banks in this country.

And yes, I am aware of the irony in complaining online about some being passive-aggressive.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 22:17, 24 replies)
Lego Star Wars
My six-year-old son stays with me either Friday or Saturday night. I have an Xbox which I bought ostensibly for those occasions. I usually allow him an hour on it before he goes to bed

Now, I've never really been into computer games, however, of late I've found myself 'helping' him play as the progress through the levels is a lot quicker with two players.

Well, it would be a lot quicker. He'll fly through killing all the baddies, while I run around the screen collecting all the coins...
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 22:10, Reply)
I've told this story before, but it seems apt.
My nan...
Years ago, I guess I was about 12, I went to visit my Nan for dinner, but for some reason I was running late, so by the time I let myself in, she was already eating, and, honestly, this plate of meat she was eating was huge, absolutely huge, and my Nan was only a skinny old thing. I actually commented on the size of her meal.

‘I know, but by the time I got in, I was so hungry I felt like I could eat a horse’ she said.

And to be fair, judging by the size of the plate she had, I almost believe that she actually was.

It seemed kind of odd though, because she’d been shopping with my Mum that afternoon and my mum had taken her to lunch at some chain tacky steakhouse thing, Bernies Grill or whatever and had come home moaning that my Nan had had the largest, most expensive steak on the menu. She said something like ‘I don’t know how she did it, but I may as well have just bought her the whole cow’.

Although thinking back, she always did have a voracious appetite, I remember when I was younger we’d been to a Jamaican market somewhere around Brent Cross or somewhere and she’d gone to a food stall and ordered a massive goat curry. At the time I found the idea of goat curry repulsive, but she scoffed it all down in seconds, literally just opened her throat and it was gone.

Still, I shouldn’t have been surprised that she ate the curry given that she lived near a Korean restaurant that was widely rumoured to sell dog meat if you had the right connections, and apparently my Nan did, or at least claimed she did, cos she was always bragging about eating it.

What with that and her willingness to eat take away from the cheapest Chinese on the street, I guess there was nothing that phased her. You know the type of take away I mean, where everyone believes that the serve cat instead of chicken.

What’s absurd is that she also had a taste for the finer things. If someone else was paying she loved nothing better than a stuffed pheasant or some other game bird. She could easily eat a whole one.

My favourite story though, was when she was on holiday somewhere exotic and came back saying she’d eaten tarantula. Christ, my stomach churned at the thought of eating a spider.

Shit, sorry, I am waffling, the point is, despite her food extravagances, she was as tight as a gnats proverbial, she refused to spend even the slightest amount of money on basic hygiene products for example, so her house was this filthy fly ridden dump of a place. Really disgusting, always things buzzing around your head, had to keep swatting them away from your mouth and stuff, it was grim.

When she died after, basically, eating herself to death, it was discovered that she had a tapeworm, hence her appetite.

And how had she contracted that tapeworm?

She’d swallowed a fly.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 21:43, 12 replies)
One of my favourite comedy moments...
"What? It's eat as much as you can."
"No, it's eat as much as you *want*. There's no competitive element involved."
"At £3.99, I think I know who's winning."
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 20:53, 1 reply)
Mr Supermonkey is a greedy bastard
I left him alone for one and a half days with cereal, milk, bread, tubs of sandwich filling, salad, fresh fruit and a freezer full of pasta bakes and pizza.

Instead he ate all the cake and 12 bags of crisps.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 20:34, 1 reply)
Chocolate Greed
In 1993, there was a SF convention on Jersey, at the Hotel de France. They have a chocolate shop. They got extra Belgian chocolate in for us all. In 5kg bars. I bought 2, overall they sold about 200. That's a ton of chocolate sold from one shop in one weekend.

Do you have any idea how long it takes to eat 10kg of fine dark Belgian chocolate when the only way to get at it is with a hammer and chisel?

I do :-)
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 20:25, 2 replies)
Greedy felines
My family has a habit of feeding what we believe to be stray cats, only to find that they have a home to go to and are actually well looked after. The latest is a massive fat black and white beast who we have named Donald P Bellisario. We have fed him every night for 3 months. Last week we discovered that at least 6 other families have too.

We still do it though. :)
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 20:22, 5 replies)
Bet you can't eat three Shredded Wheat
The bloke on the advert warbled.
He was right. I ate 7 instead out of a casserole dish.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 19:38, 16 replies)
My mother is possibly the greediest person I know, or at least the greediest 80 year-old.
We regularly take her to Pizza Hut, various curry buffets and Taybarns, where she piles up her plates and eats course after course.

I like to photograph her eating, preferably with either a stack of dirty plates or a pizza pan with one fewer slice in each picture. The photos go onto Facebook for the amusement of our many relations.

Last week she, my mother in law (also over 80) and I went out for lunch together. Ma and I wolfed ours down and gazed longingly at the desserts menu while Ma In Law pushed her food around her plate, sighing.

Mother and I took her home and then went on to the supermarket to load up with fresh food for tea and munchies. You can't feed growing girls on that puny pub food!

Surpisingly, Mother's not fat and is very healthy. She walks everywhere, goes to the special pensioners' gym and eats a cooked meal every day. She is one of 7 siblings, 4 of whom have already died.

Many old people lose their appetites but not our Ma. I often say that when she stops eating so much it'll be time to nail down the lid!
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 18:20, 1 reply)
Anal Probe
When a student... actually the year AFTER I was a student I took part in some lovely fellow's PhD experiment which was researching IBS. I was healthy volunteer. My role in all this involved three visits to a grubby hospital near Wembley where I would change into one of those stylish and practical backless robes, lie on my side with my knees tucked up and have a wire inserted into my arse. Electrical shocks of varying strength would then be beamed into my rectum and the electrodes strapped to my head measured my response.

For this I received £220.

The one thing I certainly learned is my price. I am yours for £220.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 17:59, 4 replies)
We have a cat which does a passable ICMB impression
when we rattle the food box. She can hear the food from any distance and will rush in and fling herself at it, often landing on top of the other cats or colliding with them and knocking them over.

As a young kitten she had constant D&V and her owners were desperate, as they'd homed the rest of the litter. They thought she'd soon die.

I assumed that the food they were giving her didn't suit her and that she'd thrive on our Iams. I was right, but hadn't taken into account that the novelty of stuffing her face with impunity might never wear off!

I've taken in plenty of rescue and stray cats over the years but Simba is the greediest. She's cute though.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 17:45, 3 replies)
There was this one time when I
nyam nyam nyam nyam
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 17:28, Reply)
I have greedy kitties.
My cat, the Big Black Fluffy Thing, has had to be something of a good sport over the years. I got her as a kitten when I had a girlfriend living with me, and at about the same time we got a small orange kitten. When the girlfriend moved out she took the orange kitten with her so the BBFT became an only cat. During that time she got very happily used to my undivided attention.

Some time later a different girlfriend moved in, this time with a Jack Russell terrorist and an elderly Siamese. BBFT could no longer sleep with me at night and let the old Siamese know what she thought of him, but eventually things reached a reasonable level of snarkiness.

The girlfriend moved out, taking the terrorist with her but leaving behind the old Siamese. Some time later a new girlfriend moved in with an elderly but very active and grumpy short furred Smaller Black Hissy Thing who had spent most of her life as an only cat and was not at all amused with having to share space with either the BBFT of the elderly Siamese. After tormenting the Siamese terribly her next act of aggression was to start parking herself next to the food bowl- not eating, just making sure that no one else could eat without her permission.

I broke her of that habit, as well as establishing that she was not allowed to beat up the Siamese, but by then the battle lines were drawn. I would take the SBHT out of the way to let the Siamese eat, and when he was done the BBFT would dash in and scarf down as much as she could before going outside to avoid the SBHT. I would then release the beast, who would go over and chow down whatever was left. Over time the two black cats got rather rotund.

The Siamese finally died, so it was now down to two black cats. I figured that they would ease up a little toward one another, but no- there's still a war on over the food dish. What's worse, I suspect that BBFT is now going to another house and eating someone else's cat food. I limit how much I let them have in one go and the SBHT has gotten back down to a reasonable size, but the BBFT continues to grow.

I think I may have to rename her Tribble With Attitude Tendencies.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 16:50, 2 replies)
There's a pub-restaurant
on the A19 just outside of York. Last year, we stopped there. We shared the 'Ultimate Combo For Two', "Breaded torpedo prawns, onion rings, garlic ciabatta, jacket potato wedges, chicken wings and garlic breaded mushrooms. Plus nachos topped with cheese and salsa served with BBQ, blue cheese and sour cream dips.. That was never for just two people though, surely not.

Only I had a main course, "Roasted chicken breast topped with grilled bacon, BBQ sauce and melted cheese. With chips and peas."

By then I was pretty much stuffed. But I promised my wife and daughter that I would get the star pudding, Millionaire's Candymania. This is listed as "The ultimate chocolate fest! Chocolate caramel shortbread pieces, four scoops of vanilla ice cream, four scoops of chocolate ice cream, toffee sauce, Mars Planets,® Chocolate M&M's,® 2 Twix® fingers and sugar curls all topped with cream.".

A few minutes later, the waitress brought it over. It was served in a dish that I could probably have fit my head into. I did manage about two-thirds, and my wife and daughter finished the rest.

I could barely walk and I reckon I was a wafer-thin mint away from exploding. Never again.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 16:40, 4 replies)
Cookie & Ice Cream Cake
Back in the days of studenthood, I once made a cookie and ice cream cake for my ex's birthday.

It was hardly a culinary masterpiece - two of those giant 14" cookies from Millies, with a whole tub of Ben and Jerry's cookie dough sandwiched in the middle (plus a few candles).

It was a better idea in theory than in practice. Within minutes of being out of the fridge it had melted into a soggy mess, and it was so ridiculously sweet that your gums receded on contact. Everyone politely ate a slice (or rather, a sloppy pile) and then it went back in the freezer.

The next day I was alone in the flat and rather stoned, and not wanting to waste the 25 quid I'd forked out, I ate the remaining 2/3rds with a big pot of coffee.

I spent the next day in bed, rolling around in agony and regret.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 15:46, 2 replies)
I shag Mrs Waxdart. Then when she goes to bed, i'll flip on the internet a rub out another.
if I find nice bit of grot I'll rub out a few. Not bad when you are 30+
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 15:25, 13 replies)
A Lifetime's Ambition, Ruined
I am, and have always been, fascinated by animals. I watched more natural history programs on TV as a pre-schooler than is at all natural. I can remember at the age of five being wildly excited because I was allowed to stay up late and watch the original broadcast of Life On Earth in 1979. Biology was a natural choice at University, as was postgraduate study. Animals are great, and I can't ever know enough about them.

Unsurprisingly, many of my life's ambitions revolve around seeing animals. Some - such as finding my own fossils and seeing a live whale - I have fulfilled. Others, such as going on safari, I have not. One of the most treasured ambitions that I nurtured was to go diving off the Great Barrier Reef in Australia, a site of such dazzling biodiversity that send any red-blooded natural history enthusiast into near-instant paroxysms of orgasm.

It was an ambition I thought I'd never fulfil - too far away, too expensive. Until my girlfriend at University picked up nothing less than a years' paid work placement in Sydney as part of her degree. Suddenly all I had to find was money for a flight and a spending money: everything else would be catered for. I was very sad to see her go but as the weeks ticked past I became so excited. Not only would I get to see her again soon, but I'd be going to Australia! And, of couse, we'd planned to drive up to Queensland and fulfil my ambition of going diving! Oh, the ecstasy!

There were a few teething problems. I had to learn to dive first, but that proved no great obstacle as I didn't need to be properly qualified, just vaguely competent. It was a long way too, but we hired a camper van and drove on up there. The night before I was so excited I could barely sleep.

We'd booked ourselves on an organised dive tour, and had time to kill on the boat from the mainland over to the reef. It was a pretty nice boat with plenty to do to keep us occupied but one of the fun bonuses of being on a nice boat was that they'd laid on a nice buffet. We both liked - and still like - to think of ourselves as gourmets in the making so we sat down to appreciate what was on offer. It was pretty good, so we had some more. And then again it was all free as part of the ticked we'd paid so we had a bit more again. And then of course there was dessert. Delicious! And before we knew it we were there, and getting changed into our wetsuits, with me almost shaking with anticipation as I climbed into the water.

At which point I discovered I'd eaten far too much to swim, got terrible stomach cramps and could do nothing other than cling grimly onto the boat ladder while the rest of the group swam off to enjoy the underwater safari of a lifetime.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 14:55, 7 replies)
Pimped Snack
My wife is frickin awesome in very many ways. The latest of the ways she is awesome is the giant Reese's Cup she made me for my birthday cake.

13 bars of chocolate (the big ones, not your little snack bars)for the top and bottom, a tub of peanut butter, icing sugar and digestives all whizzed up for the filling made a cup with a 12" diameter. All the guests at the party had some, all of our relatives have had a slice and there's still a quarter of it left. I could have brought it into work to save spending tons of cash on cakes from the poopermarket but...

...I want to finish it.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 13:47, 5 replies)
Not my fault
Last Christmas, our daughter came to stay as usual. Now she's all growed up, she's turning into a domestic goddess and will bake at the drop of a hat. Lovely and fine except Mrs G and I are at that stage of life where my trousers shrink by a good inch if I have a good meal and half a bottle of wine. Cakes and puds by-pass the stomache and attach themselves directly to those fat depostits that sit over the kidneys.

Anyway, she suggested we make a tira misu, as she knows that's one of my faves. It was qwality father daughter time - we sourced a recipe on t'internet, went out and bought the ingredients, including a bottle of Tia Maria and a box of sponge fingers.

All went well, Mrs G put her feet up and Sprog and I got on with it. I noticed a bit too late that the recipe said 'serves 8', there were just the three of us. Oh well, it'll keep for a couple of days.

So - an hour or so later there it was, our biggest ceramic pasta dish loaded to the brim with a double-decker Tira Misu lightly dusted with cocoa powder. It didn't fit in the fridge so I put it in the bath - our bathroom luckily has no heating, and it was just above zero degrees in there.

That evening, after we'd eaten I went and got the desert:
"Right, who's ready for the best tira misu ever?"
Mrs G: "Not for me thanks, I'm stuffed."
Sprog: "I don't really like it, I only suggested it because I know you love it."
Me: "OK, well I'll have a bowl."

It was fucking lovely...that first bowl. I hate waste so I forced myself to have a second bowl too - almost as nice as the first; almost.

Next day I had another couple of bowls, OK, I had three. It's not great for breakfast but quite nice after lunch. In the evening I had a big bowl and poured an extra bit of Tia Maria over it too.

I didn't quite finish the whole lot, but came damn close.

I had a week off work last week; went for three runs, a couple of bike rides and a couple of long county walks. I can now fit into the trousers that fitted before Christmas. Just.

Let that be a lesson to me.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 13:36, 3 replies)
I promised the gf I would stop smoking
So I'm wearing nicotine patches. And still smoking.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 13:17, 14 replies)
I just remembered.
Around the age of 17, I watched an old bloke have a wank for a tenner while I was hitching to Reading festival.

I spent the money on a lump of hash that turned out to be mud.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 12:58, 12 replies)
I ate so much
granola this morning that my jaws make a sickening knocking sound whenever I open and close my mouth.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 11:53, 3 replies)
Evil hamster
Apparently this is quite common, but who knew?

My friend had a hamster for a year or so before another acquaintance, who was going on holiday for a while, asked him to look after his too. The second hamster was duly placed in the existing hamster's cage.

The next morning, not only had the first hamster partially eaten the new arrival, but the remains of its hind quarters had an unmistakably bloodied anus.

He'd been bummed to death, then eaten, or eaten then bummed. Either way, I'd say this ranks as more than averagely greedy.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 11:42, 6 replies)
Greedy cow
Now me and the other half are planning our wedding together and we've hit a brick wall because of her greedy nature. Now I am prepared to except all the vows, except one line - I'll love you now and for eternity.

She want's me for eternity, I kind of had other plans for the afterlife.

*apologies for lack of nom nom*
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 10:43, 67 replies)
My mum is an Indian yoghurt-based dish, but with a writing surface made from pulp.
She's a paperback raita.
(, Tue 19 Apr 2011, 9:37, 18 replies)

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