Utterly Childish and Pointless
I take great joy in bumping into people who wear camouflage gear - t-shirts, caps, trousers etc, and then apologising to them "Oh sorry! Didn't see you"

I've been doing this for over 10 years and nobody has got it yet. It pleases me no end.
( Strangey is present at, Wed 13 Apr 2005, 1:06, Reply)

Another...
Whilst making a cup of tea I like to moon-walk across the shiny tiled kitchen floor to put the tea bag in the bin. Every time.
(cherry B, Thu 7 Apr 2005, 10:33, Reply)

I fart
in my colleagues office drawer and then close it.
(nappy rash, Thu 7 Apr 2005, 10:27, Reply)

I like watching GCSE bitesize revision on BBC2
And feeling smug I know the answers.

I'm 22.
(b3tasux, Sat 9 Apr 2005, 11:39, Reply)

ADDING TO THE MOST POPULAR
Taking a shit, naked, with the door open, IN THE DARK

(apart from when a maid from the Tunisian Hotel your stopping in bursts in, fires the neons up, screams when she see's your shocked, semi-gurning face, followed by silence, a comically timed *ker-plunk*, then her running out screaming "sorry,sorry,sorry,sorry,sorry"! leaving the fresh towels she was bringing in strewn all over the floor)

other than that, very nice
(frankyfourfingers, Fri 8 Apr 2005, 12:47, Reply)

All the other telesales ones reminded me of this-
True story. I remember it word for word.

Telesales (male indian accent): Hello, is there a [dad's name (my dad's been divorced for about 12 years now)] there?
Me: No sorry, he's dead.
Telesales: I am ever so sorry. (in the most insincere tone) What about a [mum's name]?
Me: She's dead too. Funny story really; they both were crushed by the same steamroller. Well, maybe not funny. Tragic. Yeah, that's the word.
Telesales: I am ever so sorry. Is there anyone over 18?
Me: Nope. Just me. Alone. No-one to love. Every night I eat a cold can of 12p beans and cry myself to sleep.
Telesales: Err.. err.. sorry... err... [pause] can I interest you in changing your telephone company?
Me: To ring where? HEAVEN? *sob sob sob*
Telesales: Err... errr.. umm... err... goodbye
*beeep*

I am a sick fuck. :)
( Naive Amoeba Bored Cig, Wed 13 Apr 2005, 9:54, Reply)

I always agree to take photos of tourists and strangers in pubs
but almost invariably aim to cut off their heads.

Gives me the proper horn.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Thu 7 Apr 2005, 14:54, Reply)

Weighing Poo
I love to weigh myself before and after taking a dump to establish the weight of my poo.
(Flan base, Mon 11 Apr 2005, 16:58, Reply)

Putting PVA glue on my hands
and letting it dry, just so I can peel it all off again!
( Christian Bale of Hay in a field, Thu 7 Apr 2005, 17:31, Reply)

If I'm watching telly and my feet get cold, but I can't be arsed to go and get a pair of socks, I just stick my feet under my cat. It pisses him off, but it's really his fault for being so warm and furry.
(Anchoivies, anchoivies, you're so delicious, I love you more than all the other fishes., Sun 10 Apr 2005, 22:36, Reply)

Possibly mentally ill
Sometimes, when I'm alone and walking home - particularly late at night - I pretend I'm a spy being followed by enemy spies. I imagine that my movements are being tracked from a top secret control room, and I communicate with them by talking to a non-existent microphone hidden inside the collar of my jacket. I pretend that I have to complete the imaginary orders that they give me, like taking a photograph of something with the camera that I pretend is hidden inside my watch. And they also warn me of snipers in windows en route. I run past these windows.
When I get home I feel like a fucking weirdo. But I enjoy it. I've been doing it since I was about 12. I'm 23 now. Think I'll probably carry on. Possibly forever.

EDIT: I meant to add that this is a non-sexual male fantasy. We all have them.
(pb4ugo2bed, Fri 8 Apr 2005, 17:38, Reply)

knickers etc
I teach a class to biomed students on how to use micoroscopes. The class, 150 in all, is about 90% female. From the back of the lab, just as they are all leaning forward to use the microscopes, I am witness to a gasp inducing view. An ocean of knickers, thongs, tattoos and cracks. In fact I spend most of the 2 hour class there. Just can't help myself.
(ghetto soldier, Fri 8 Apr 2005, 17:07, Reply)

Sellotape and cats
I do have a guilty pleasure of tormenting effete and pompous cats - you know the ones. They sit there and look at you like scum and then turn their backs on you, acting superior like the very pleasure of breathing in the air they have just recently finished with, is something to die for.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely fucking love cats, but occasionally you have to put them in their place.

Long haired cats are the best for the following:

Stick an inch long piece of sticky tape over their arseholes and watch them spazz out. They can't get purchase of it with their tongues and 9 times out 10 do the "dog dragging it's arse over the grass because it's got worms" dance. This normally has little effect, but they carry on with it regardless.

You can render a household of people helpless with laughter as the hairy feckers drag their kitty arses across the carpet.

Apologies to the RSPCA - no keyboard players were harmed in the making of this message.
(Catchag "You know!....For Kids!", Thu 7 Apr 2005, 14:21, Reply)

Kicking the height adjustment lever of peoples chairs in meetings...
...so that they suddenly disappear under the table.

God, I'm so childish.
(Peelmytangerines, Wed 13 Apr 2005, 15:39, Reply)

.

(Corn Dog, Thu 7 Apr 2005, 22:35, Reply)

Junk (snail) mail
I derive an enormous amount of satisfaction from extracting all the advertising crap (the stuff without name/address on), mixing them up and using the freepost envelopes.

Mint get Egg, Egg get Capital 1, you get the drift.

Wifey thinks I'm insane, and won't post them for me....
(The real vlad the impala, Thu 7 Apr 2005, 11:13, Reply)

adventure in your own bathroom
Taking a bath or shower with the light off.
( wangmaster2000, Fri 8 Apr 2005, 17:02, Reply)

Squeezing spots

My boyfriend thinks he's allergic to something. Haven't got round to telling him that the red blotchiness on his back is caused by me poking at him for hours when he's sleeping...

I derive great pleasure from squeezing the really tiny ones that have lots of pus without waking him up. Bliss.

Apart from this I am completely normal, I swear.
(deadly, Thu 7 Apr 2005, 16:37, Reply)

No fire without smoke
Back in the early 90's when I first got Sky TV - I used to sit stoned in front of German televison station RTL after they had finished their programmes and watch the televised fire which they used to show.
For those of you who haven't seen it, it was a full screen of roaring fire in a grate.

I used to sit there for hours trying to see the loop edit.
(Catchag "You know!....For Kids!", Thu 7 Apr 2005, 15:23, Reply)

I can...
urinate on demand by licking my palm and rotating my "glans" on the wet spot.

Not sure how I found this out, but comes in handy if you need to give a sample and cant.

It also feels, er nice?

Sorry, but this sounded better in my head.


( Capt. Tastic, Wed 13 Apr 2005, 17:24, Reply)

might have posted this before actually...
I used to drive a Scamp.... www.dudley100.freeserve.co.uk/scamp.4.jpg with a side-exhaust and a 1430cc Mini engine... many many horsies. IT smoked like a sod, and poured oil fumes out when it was cold... but it was loud, fun and fast. It had a side-exit exhaust just behind the driver's seat...

A white volvo 850 T5 came howling past me on a huddersfield dual carriage way... we stopped at lights... he revved his engine, I revved mine... and Ogwen (sat nex to me) said... You're not gonna race him are you?

Nope... Lights turn orange and I hit the accellerator as hard as possible... 7500rpm and my lil car screams like a beast. The volvo took off... rubber smoke etc.

I then put my car in gear, and pottered up to teh next set of lights. The guy sat there looking smug...

Ogwen and I sat there laughing at the resultant sooty oil-slick plastered down the side of his pristeen new white volvo.

Pleasure. God yes.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Wed 13 Apr 2005, 14:48, Reply)

What a pleasure it is...
...to take Mrs Rabbits dirty pants out of the laundry basket and put them back in her knicker draw. She's downstairs now and I've just done another three pairs.
(tell me about the rabbits, Sat 9 Apr 2005, 14:08, Reply)

Seatbelts
I adore sucking on seatbelts. You get this absolutely awesome salty taste. The older the car, the better - just think about how many people have touched the seatbelt and leeched some of their sweat into it. Delicious!
(belen, Sat 9 Apr 2005, 5:27, Reply)

i'm not right
I used to see how many of my managers cigarettes I could put under my foreskin (7) and would always have a smile on my face when I saw him smoking one of my bellend flavoured fags in the car park !!!
(jasonx, Fri 8 Apr 2005, 21:51, Reply)

Realising that I've just worked out that I know someone on here
And i've just learnt a lot about them which will be very, very interesting to other people.

*evil grin*
( Mike Fishcake teamfishcake.co.uk - better than your mum's face, Fri 8 Apr 2005, 17:00, Reply)

i dont get out much...
You know you get those people that sit beside smaller roundabouts and sell bags of potatoes??
They are so easy top wind up. We once pulled up next to his big handwritten sign saying '1 BaG £3' and asked how much a bag was,shouted 'BARGAIN!!', waved a wallet in the air and drove off. haha!
EVEN funnier if you go around the roundabout twice then do exactly the same wearing a pirate eyepatch.

*Repeat until the joke wears thin or you run out of petrol.
(Legs 11 last got some loving on, Fri 8 Apr 2005, 11:57, Reply)

Pooing
If we caught our cat about to have a poo in the garden, we'd call each other in and we'd all stand and watch him through the window, sometimes laughing loudly and pointing, or we'd knock on the window and put him off!

The indignant look on his face as he ran off with his ears back, pooily frustrated!
(finbarr, Fri 8 Apr 2005, 9:41, Reply)

Picking my brother's nose.
Really. He has small sinuses (something to do with his Down's Syndrome) and consequently not much room to store snot. So he often has giant bogeys lurking just inside his nostrils. I love picking the slimy little fuckers out.

I like picking my own nose too. And eating it (in full view of others - I'm not ashamed). I don't eat my bro's snot though; that'd be vile.

Eating icecubes.

Wearing no pants so I can wank on the sly. I used to have a pair of jeans with holes cut in the pockets for easy access. I threw them away when the crotch wore out, though.

Poking my eyes so I can see trippy patterns and colours.

Reading pornographic literature. As an asexual, it doesn't turn me on, but I have a childish sense of humour so I find it very funny. Things like "hot liquid passion ran down whatsername's thighs" make me giggle like a loon on loon tablets.
(I usually get a barrage of questions when I say I'm asexual, so check the link in my profile instead of turning the qotw into a messageboard, ta.)

Reciting Weebl episodes from memory. I do this in the street sometimes and don't notice I've been doing it until I start getting funny looks. Same with singing David Bowie songs.

Stomping around my bedroom listening to hard house or drum & bass. For some reason I enjoy music most when I'm moving. Even if it's just walking, I like to be kinetic.

Taking all my pants out of the drawer and rearranging them on the floor to spell 'PANTS'. I'd do this with my bras but I only have five.

Walking round the house naked when no-one else is in.

The smell of my own fanjita. It's my favourite smell in the world, even more so than choccy.

Kung Fu Fighting by Bus Stop, Agadoo by Black Lace, The Logical Song by Scooter, and Hey Baby by DJ Ozti. I am so very, very sorry. They're so bad they're good.

Imagining I can do all the stuff James Bond does when I watch the films, and imagining how I'd do it differently (I wouldn't save the annoying chicks, for a start).

Leaving my college work 'til the night before. My parents think I do it the day it gets set and don't realise I'm actually b3taing et al when they think I'm diligently googling. Gullible twunts.

Chewing off and eating my toenails. I used to do my fingernails when I was ickle, but got fed up with how scraggy and nasty they looked, so gave it up and moved to other appendages that aren't on display. But I do like trimming my fingernails with clippers once they're all past a certain length and eating the clippings.

Farting with gusto in public. I get away with it by bursting into hysterical laughter and taking everyone else with me.

Playing Adventure Quest. It's a very cheesy little Flash (or something, I don't know the difference) RPG, but I can't get enough. Same with Neopets (the shame) until recently.

Chasing my senile old cats. Their feet scrabble so charmingly when they try to take a corner.

Lying naked in bed and rubbing my tummy against the sheets. It's just so nice. Having my tummy tickled is also very nice.

Belching 'Archbishop Macarios' (no idea if that's how his name is spelled, can't be bothered to google). Or indeed just belching. Quickly drink two tall glasses of lemonade or something, then jump up and down for two minutes. Then let rip. And be prepared to be weeing like mad for the next forty minutes.

Lancing blisters with needles (ordinary sewing ones) and watching all the lymph ooze out. Makes them sting like fuck for a while, but once it's stopped they're much more comfy than if I'd left them undrained.

Mentally adding 'in my pants' to song titles and/or substituting the last word of a book title for 'bumhole'. I took these up after reading about them on b3ta. People often wonder why I'm standing in front of bookshelves or my CD collection just laughing my socks off.

Keeping all my CDs in alphabetical order by title (used to be by artist, but I couldn't resolve the dilemma of whether Paul McCartney and Wings should be under M or W, or whether to classify Amorphous Androgynous with Future Sound of London or separately (they're the same band with two names)). I just love it when they're all lined up in their proper places.
( Bob Todd whee, Fri 8 Apr 2005, 9:25, Reply)

Talking to myself
Wait, do I really gain pleasure from that?
Of course you do, cause you can say things you can't really get away with in front of other people. Like bad jokes.
I suppose you're right, let's put that.
Love you.
Love you too.
( Lightguy hail satan, Thu 7 Apr 2005, 17:45, Reply)

Maybe more like revenge...
..But it gave me the most guilty pleasure I'd actually confess to.

To fund a return to HE in the mid 90s I took a security related job in a government secure facility. I'm keeping the details deliberately vague to protect the innocent, or to be more accurate, me. The victims were big blokes and this is a comparatively small island.

My job was to make sure the builders who were working on upgrading aforesaid facility got up to no mischief, didn't leave powertools lying round for grateful inmates to find etc etc.

After a while, partly because of some of my female colleagues who had strong motherly instincts, the builders came to expect we security type bods to have their kettle all filled up and boiling for them when they came back to the main compound for their tea breaks.

This didn't really bother me, if I was on duty in that area I'd normally have the water on for them anyway just because I was bored and had nothing better to do. There were about 20 of them and so it was this huge battered thing they used, which took about 10 minutes to boil. So if it wasn't bunged on in advance, they spent their whole tea break watching it boil then had to dash down a scalding cup of tea before dashing off back to work.

So the one time no-one was there to do it they got very upset, and as I was in that area I ended up sitting through 10 minutes of unwarranted grief. Builders take tea more seriously than the rest of us.

I wasn't in the best of moods anyway as it was a shitty job and these idiots continually made it worse with their keystone kops organisational skills. So when they had gone and the compound was empty I filled the kettle with as much piss as I could muster and then topped it up with water. When they came back for lunch I had it boiling away nicely, and made a big show of regretting not having had it ready for their morning break.
Sitting in the portacabin with them as they all drank my hot tannin-laced piss, it was only the thought that one of them might detect the unusual taste, leading to my bloody violent death, that stopped me choking with laughter. I had a big smile for the rest of the day though.

Thankfully the water was minging anyway, so I got away with it. One of my colleagues drank it too, which I would have felt bad about if he hadn't been an ex-policeman.
(spiky_budgie, Thu 7 Apr 2005, 16:37, Reply)