maybe 24 is real!
www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/us_and_americas/us_elections/article4609445.ece
(twiceydrinker hmmm is it pint time?, Tue 26 Aug 2008, 9:00, 2 replies)

Stirred, not shaken...
Even people who don't drink coffee or tea know them, those white plastic disposable stirring rods with one wide end with a hole in it and one narrow end.

I drink my coffee black, no sugar thank you, but when I spot someone else reaching for the stirrers, I convince him/her that the wide end is for holding the stirrer while the narrow end has to be submerged in the beverage to be stirred. Of course you, fellow B3tans and savvy people of the world and teh interwebz, know that it is the other way round.. or do you?

Over the years I have a believer/non-believer ratio of about 1:1, so I must be doing something right... Never seen anyone actually stirring his/her drink upside down, though.

Length? Not sure, I never use them.
(DrDoxy, Tue 26 Aug 2008, 8:08, Reply)

Pearoast ... with extra Saddam!
This tops almost averything I've done...

I am so fucking guillible
You must understand all my family have um, quirks. I'm loud, one of my brothers is a Cliffie*, another one does a very credible Charles Manson imitation, and so on. My brother in the Army, Greg, doesn't suffer fools gladly and would cut assholes off with "I know you're lying" even when he was 14 years old.

The day Saddam Hussein was captured, my brother Sam called up all excited and said, "Oh my god, Tam, did you hear? I think Greg captured Saddam!"

"What? How do you know?"

"It was Greg's unit that was looking for him, the 597th, and they said on TV that it was the MPs that found the spider hole."

A chill went down my back. I holler at my children, "Kids, kids! Uncle Greg caught Saddam!" Everybody runs in and jumps on the bed (it's early in the morning) yelling and asking questions, my husband wants to know just what the hell is going on, who did what with Saddam Who, etc.

I finally shush everyone and ask Sam what else he knows.

"Well, I heard on TV that when the MPs found him, he tried to pretend he was just some old man they didn't know, and get this-the Staff Sgt MP said,'I KNOW YOU'RE LYING'"

I scream at the top of my lungs, "Greg caught Saddam! Greg caught Saddam!" The kids start yelling and dancing around, I'm crying, even my husband's saying, "Damn, I can't believe it." I breathlessly tell Sam I have to hang up and tell everyone in the neighborhood that MY very own brother captured Saddam Hussein, the Evil Dictator, blah, blah, blah when Sam shouts through my babbling, "Tam, Tam , TAM! Shut up. Calm down. I'm pulling your leg."

I could have fucking killed him. I was so excited and he just ruined it. Plus I felt like a moron. So now the whole family** will throw in "and I captured Saddam, too" just to yank my chain, the fuckers.

Although Greg did get a huge kick out of it when he heard. He actually called me all the way from Iraq to "set me straight".







*Do you have those in Britain? Somebody who always is spouting off authoritatively about subjects he doesn't know shit about? Named after Cliff Clavin on the TV show Cheers.



**even my mother
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Tue 26 Aug 2008, 3:48, 2 replies)

Fun on boats
While on a gunboat as part of the Southampton Uni Royal Naval Unit we were regularly deployed to ports on the coast of France (or Holland or somewhere foreign).

As was usual we hosted cocktail parties for local dignitaries, mayors, local naval associations and so on. Lots of fun for a group of spotty students to mingle and drink for free.

During one of these parties with about 50 or so people packed on board, I noticed that across the harbor we were in, there was an old guy looking out of a window at us. He'd been doing this since the beginning of the party. (a good hour or so). I suggested to the Chief of the Boat that maybe we could invite him over - he was obviously very interested in our ship and it's goings on. The Chief agreed. Unusual, as he was a stickler for protocol, and a bit of a grumpy bastard.

So chuffed that I was helping to extend friendship across Europe - off I set - a walk of about 500 yards down to a bridge crossing the dock, then 500 yards back up the other side to the building with the window...

and the statue inside it....

staring across the water....

....to to the boat, where every single one of the bastards on board is crying with laughter as I then start my 1000 yard walk of shame back...



bastards..
( gp_guineapig, Tue 26 Aug 2008, 0:05, Reply)

My boyfriend
convinced me once that Trisha Goddard had been killed.

So I told a lot of people.

People don't believe me very often any more.

:(
(TheHBoxster is probably playing Beatles Rock Band on, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 23:53, 2 replies)

Last weekend
I was in the pub on Friday night and our group bumped into someone I haven’t seen since secondary school - Sarah was in my brother’s class and we’d had something of a soft spot for each but never taken it anywhere during school. She was a few inches shorter than me, quite pretty, with short dark hair and a bubbly aura.

We got chatting and really clicked, buying each other drinks all evening and talking about music, life, old school friends, places we’d travelled etc. I was really enjoying myself and getting quite merry as well. Her eyes were sparkling as I spoke and I started to get the feeling things were going Rather Well.

As the sun had set on the pub garden, my friends started to migrate inside but Sarah and I stayed out to smoke cigarettes, and we continued talking.

She was talking about going to music festivals when she suddenly stopped, grinned at me and said “I’ve got an idea!” She took my hand and led me to the bottom of the garden, between the bushes and the wall, putting her drink down and rummaging in her handbag. She pulled out some rolling papers and proceeded to roll us a gentle mind alteration. She sparked up and passed it to me, blowing the smoke in my face. I should have choked, but I found it strangely alluring.

With a couple of puffs, everything started to melt a little, including my inhibitions. I’m not the most relaxed person in the company of girls, but Sarah had the ability to help me relax, and the joint simply massaged my shyness away.

Sarah moved closer to me as I passed the smoke back, putting her arm on my shoulder and looking skywards. She took a puff, and pointed to the moon. I followed her gaze upward and stared at the sky.

With her hand on my shoulder, she moved it slowly down my back until it reached the top of my jeans, just resting atop my backside. I looked down at her and smiled and, again, her eyes seemed to glitter as she looked into mine. Her smile faded and she moved in towards me, gently touching my lips with hers.

I responded, holding back my desire to kiss a little more roughly, and continued the gentle caress of our lips together. Her lips parted and her tongue started to explore my mouth, so I answered with my own.

Her hands were roaming over my back, mine in her hair. I took a deep breath and she smelled of tobacco and perfume – a combination that would normally repulse me but, now, spurred me on. Our touches were becoming more urgent, our kisses more feverish and our breath almost rhythmic.

She reached around the front of my jeans and started undoing my belt, as my hand crept towards her breast and squeezed gently through her bra, my other hand heading for the clasp on her back. As she undid my belt, the buttons followed as I unclipped her bra and she disengaged, for only a moment, to slip it off through her sleeves. She pushed my jeans and underwear down, exposing my manhood as my hands reached under her skirt for her underwear, sliding it down her bare legs until it reached her trainers.

I slid my hand up between her legs, moving gently to check she was ready. She turned away from me, put her hands on the wall and pushed her backside out towards me. Again I lifted her skirt and rubbed myself against her, getting us both ready, and I gently pushed home.

Her breath was ragged, and she was quietly urging me on as I moved back and forth. The feeling was sensational, so I took my time, not wanting to rush it for fear it would be over all too soon. She reached down to where we met each other, running her fingers all over us, taking us higher.

With encouragement from Sarah, I gently started to accelerate my actions, increasing the pressure and contact until there was nothing between us but the stars.

She held her breath and pushed her backside up and down as I moved, and I could feel the impending upsurge charging through me. I mumbled incoherently as I reached my peak, losing myself in her.

Sarah moved away from me and wiped her hair from her forehead, flushed and grinning. She stretched up and kissed me and, still smiling, grabbed her drink and walked back up the garden to the pub.

Not really. I didn’t even go into the pub last week, and I haven’t had sex in more than a year.
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 22:30, 5 replies)

saturday's QOTW bash
www.flickr.com/groups/b3tabashes/pool/
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Mon 25 Aug 2008, 22:10, 3 replies)

The Doorstop Challenge
12:30pm, 1985. Like many of my fellow schoolmates, I used to go home for lunch as I didn't live that far away.
Upon finishing my grub I discovered one of those little plastic bags which when squeezed along the top became airtight (resealable bags?) had been my mum's choice of sandwich bag that day.
In my eyeline was a box of Daz. In my hand was a baggie.
After filling the bag with a liberal amount of washing powder I raced out the back door and stood at the fence at the back of my garden. Behind the fence was a pathway which one of my mates - quite a 'mountain-out-of-a-molehill' type of bloke used to get to his house in the next street.
So, over the fence my bag went accompanied by guffaws of stifled laughter from me.

Later on at school my eyes were met with the sight of P*t*r proudly showing off his find. Bearing in mind this was around the time of Zammo chasing the dragon and getting a smack on the nose, interest was high in to what the contents of this mysterious and sexy packet actually was.
P*t*r was lording it up saying what he was going to do with it (in fact he, much like the rest of us naive souls didn't really have a clue). If only he'd seen the emergence of Mr Winters barrelling down into the playground to find out what "all this commotion was about" instead of acting like Super Fly then he would have been spared a two-week detention, a threat of police involvement, lines (no pun intended) and a stern letter to his parents.

At the end of all that no one actually owned up to tasting the contents so in fact this 'gullible' prize goes not only to P*t*r but to the teachers, too.
( Ultimate Cakes & Sweets Why,what are you planning to do - photosynthesize?, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 22:06, Reply)

Over time ..
.. any software module deteriorates as a results of accumulated defects, poor design decisions, unreadable code and general software enthrophy. At some point it becomes quicker and cleaner to rewrite it from scratch than to try to maintain the existing code.

So I was thrilled to hear that the core of Windows Vista had been rewritten from scratch. This was bound to be a major improvement over XP.

And so I bought it. And next time I'll buy a Mac.
(spinoza, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 20:41, Reply)

Australia
Managed to convince an Ex that Christmas was in June in the land down under due to the differentiation of the seasons.

Gotta love shaggin a hairdresser.
(batmowes Internet Dating Superstud, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 18:39, Reply)

Seasons
My mate absollutely refuses to believe that when it' Summer in the Northern Hempisphere it' winter in the south; despite scientific proof etc, because HE can't work it out, it must be wrong. Arrogant arse.
(kitescreech still here, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 17:47, 1 reply)

bus stops in Glasgow now have an LED lie board
telling you when the bus is coming.

I know its a lie but still look

every time
(happyjoy last changed sig on, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 17:24, Reply)

Mock auctions
I used to take a train into London for something to do at the weekends and my route would often be Paddington, through the park, up Oxford Street, Picadilly and back out. As such I would often pass by that bane of tourists on Oxford Street - the mock auction.

My first time I noticed it I was lured by signs advertising cheap electronics and some guy was out front talking of the amazing bargains within. The store was empty except for a raised stage filled with amazing items for "sale". Soon the guy at the front would move back a bit as the crowd grew and then he would prattle some more and move back the crowd grew until the store filled. Then the guy disappeared and an "auctioneer" would take over.

The auctioneer stands behind the sagging table of items with a gavel. He engages in extremely fast cockney wanker banter, engaging the crowd by asking where they're from, telling them of the bargains to be had, how they fell off a back of a lorry etc. The auctioneer starts selling by offering items for a quid or two. Helper goons would bag up seemingly impressive selections of items - alarm clocks, toasters, walkmen for a quid and hand them out in binbags. As you can imagine the crowd starts to get a bit frenzied at this point what with the bargains flying past.

So after 5 or 6 lots, the man asks if anyone is prepared to take a gamble for the unheard of price of £5 for "what's on his mind". Some people raise their hands and somebody, possibly a shill is rewarded with portable TVs, discman, gameboys and god knows what all for the £5.

The man asks again who would like to pay £5 for a mystery item. At this point the crowd goes understandably mental. He'll string the crowd along by saying whoever raises their hand when he bangs the gavel will get it. After a few bangs of the gavel with everyone raising their hands, the man says he can't figure out who was first so he sends the goons out to collect fivers and distribute random numbers. So everyone draws a number and its time to reveal what we got for our £5. The first couple (again probably shills) get similar rewards as the first time and the rest get a cheap calculator that would look overpriced if you saw a pack of 3 for sale for a quid.

Now everyone is pissed off but to placate them, the man says okay you just got a calculator but you can use that to bid and people who don't raise their calculators are not eligible for the next round.

And so it repeats. A shill gets a few amazing bargains for £30 and then the guy starts selling the most unimaginable load of old shit you've ever seen. He whips out a camera shaped like an SLR but looks like it's just a cheap 35mm snapper, a faux leather briefcase, a boogie box and some other junk, all for £30 a piece. He continues the spiele that these are all bargains and amazingly probably 1/3 of the original crowd are still bidding to buy this stuff!

It doesn't stop there though because anyone who bought crap in the last round is entitled to bid in the round after for even more amazing junk at even higher prices. Unfortunately I haven't stuck around much more than that but I can imagine some poor bastard right at the end being escorted to a cash machine to buy something not worth 1/10th the price.

Yes I was scammed but fortunately the scam stopped with me when I was robbed of £5. I was still very angry to be duped though. I still used to go back to the mock auctions afterwards because it was just so fascinating. I discovered they genuinely did hand out bags for the £1 / £2 starter items. Mostly it was junk (one time I got a toaster which had burnt cheese on it so god knows where it came from). But occasionally you got some stuff of interest. I still have a fairly retro looking Soviet era radio made of bakelite which I fancy might be worth £5 some day. I once tried to warn a few people was a scam and got chucked out.

My days of trips to London are over but I've seen them on occasion in other places, even in Ireland. All I can say is if you see an empty store advertising ungodly bargains, do not, I repeat do not hand over money once the goons go around collecting it from everyone else.

That's the time to leave or observe the most brazen disgusting scam you can be a witness to.
(MagicMoose, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 17:23, 1 reply)

Gullible colleague
I work with a particularly gullible lady, who I'll refer to as R. Over the years she's realised that most of the things I tell her are in fact completely untrue, but occasionally one slips under the radar - particularly if there is an element of truth, or a plausible explanation.

Last summer she went on a cruise (the Med, I think), the first time she's been on a boat. For some reason she asked me and another colleague for advice on what to take, and things she ought to know. We racked our brains, and over the next few weeks came up a few:
1) If you meet a member of the crew walking towards you, you should always pass them on the seaward side.
2) If the ship's horn sounds, it generally means the ship has just entered the waters of another country. It's considered polite to stand and say 'God save the Queen!'.
3) You should always salute a uniformed officer.
4) Most ships expect ladies to wear hats at dinner. Wearing the same hat twice should be avoided.
5) There will usually be a lifeboat test during the first couple of nights - you should sleep fully clothed, as the last person out will be the 'victim' for the 'man overboard' drill.

She distrusts everything I say these days, although I did convince her that limes were just unripe lemons the other day.
(Photon wasting your time since, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 17:22, Reply)

Hairy face
My mom bless her (RIP mom)when I was little she caught me messing with the vaseline. As I was smearing myself liberally (on my face I hasten to add) with the greasy stuff, she said, "watch out with that stuff, if you get it on you face it will make you hairy"....I believed her.

Years later, mom is dead and this wisdom remains. I see my friend at work rubbing vasline on her chapped lips. Wisdom surfaces: "be carefeul, it will make you hairy." Before I got the the end of the sentence, and felt the gazes of colleagues on me, I knew....she mad it up didnt she?
Gullible? O yes.

SO this and believing someone who told me they loved me and then abandoned me while I was seriously ill in hospital. Yeah, gullible beyond.
(Siouxfan I'm not staring at you, I am just short sighted, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 17:20, Reply)

not me a mate
me and my mate were about 16 at the time, i was skint to relied on smoking roll ups (nicked my da's baccy so only needed to buy skins)
she walks into my room, sees me leaning out the window smoking this roll up
"is that what i think it is" says she, "yeah" was my reply "give us a shot" so i did, bout 15 mins later shes like oh that was strong i tink im stoned already

little did she knew, to this day about 15 years later she doesnt know it was just a roll up and not a joint
(poppy_pop, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 15:39, Reply)

anyone...
like to start a petition to get Quidditch as a demonstration sport for 2012?
(MadBouncyDog Barking at the moon since, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 15:37, 2 replies)

Why is it...
... that after reading through nearly 15 pages of QotW comments, I haven't seen ole' Santa mentioned once?

6 years. How's that for a gullible moment?

And here I was, hoping that the QotW to pop my b3ta cherry would be special... Not quite what I had in mind, but I couldn't go on lurking forever, now could I?
(Obsidian, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 15:12, 3 replies)

One Word...
RELIGION
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 14:03, 5 replies)

I'm Bored..
.
So I'll tell you about how gullible I was. I believed, pretty much like every teenage boy, that were were magic chat-up lines. All you had to do was to trot-out one of the mgic lines and your were in like Flynn.

So I tried it.

I went up to a nubile young thing at a party and growled..

"You've lips like petals....."

She blushed and giggled.. Fuck me, it was working.

"Bicycle petals...."


Never did get the hang of those chat-up lines...

Cheers

Thenk you very much - I'll be under the pier all week....

( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 14:00, 16 replies)

Well
In the great pantheon of gullibility, paying the best part of £500 for a Sheffield Wednesday season ticket must be up there with the best...
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 13:58, Reply)

when i was but a grotty little spimf...
...around 14 or so. I went to a disco with my mate Derek or Dee Dee as he liked to be known (he became a hair stylist in later life). It was an under 18’s affair in the middle of the afternoon – sad i know. Never-the-less the adolescent Spimf moves must have worked as I pulled. The object of my desire was Shirley – a Goth no less (original Goth mind you for all you emo’s out there, this was the 80’s) so despite the Robert Smith al la Cure big hair and wonky lipstick she was also quite cheery and had a crackin set of gonks on her into the bargain – no protruding ribs and self harm chic here thank you. So it turns out Shirley was from Milton Keynes, tres exotique – well it was to me at the time being a spotty teenager from sunny Glasgow. I quite liked her English accent – sounded quite classy to the young Spimf.

Anyway the romance blossomed and Shirley and I saw each other once a week for around six months or so – I even phoned her from a dull holiday in the Isle of Man with my parents to lie about how i wasn’t snogging of fumbling with other girls, such was the depth of my feelings.

As is the way at that age the romance eventually fizzled out – i don’t think there were any ‘yer chucked’ moments – if there was it hasn’t burned a significant hole in my heart as i cannae remember.

What i do remember very clearly though is years later going to a party. There I met Shirley’s friend (the one my mate Derek pulled at the disco) there she was ridiculing me and regaling all who would listen with tales of my immense gullibility.

Apparently ‘the joke’ was on me – Shirley wasn’t from Milton Keynes – her accent was put on. Seems her name wasn’t Shirley either.

Well bugger me! Maybe I was gullible or simply trusting or erm... normal.

Why someone would keep up such pointless pretence for so long and for what purpose was well beyond me - still is.

Daft bint.
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 13:42, 4 replies)

smarties
growing up, my younger sister and i were friends with twin girls named celia and claire. they were a year older than me, thus seen as more worldly-wise.
one day, whilst playing hide-and-seek, claire called us over to her, saying "look, i found some red smarties! why don't you try them?"
to say i was suspicious would be an understatement, but i popped one into my mouth anyway. it immediately became apparent that these weren't smarties, so i spat it back out. my sister, on the other hand, had eaten five of them. angrily,(for i had now realised that the "smarties" were somebody's discarded tablets) i grabbed my sister's hand and marched her home.

if my sister hadn't spat bits of tablet onto the front door mat just as my dad opened the door, we wouldn't have been rushed to hospital and had to endure stomach pumps.
my sister might also have died.

i know kids can be stupid and cruel, but i hope this one pricks their consciences every now and then.

length? about 8 feet of tubing, up the nose, down the throat and into the stomach.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 13:23, Reply)

A nice yummy repost.
I love my little brother, K (abbreviation for anonymity). He was born when I was 15 and I've always felt rather responsble for him. I've changed his nappies, bathed him, taken him out in the pram on my paper-round, took him to see Sheffield Wednesday, everything.

However, the poor fella has taken on a family trait in the form of complete gullibility. This is compounded by the fact that since I've been a figure of authority ever since he was knee high to a grasshopper, he's always trusted anything I've said.

So, picture the scene.

It's K's 11th birthday, and he's very excited.

He's getting into music, and loves bands like The White Stripes and the Arctic Monkeys, and spends a lot of the time jumping round the house to their latest chart-toppers.

So, during a pre-visit phonecall I tell him for his birthday that I've got him a special present (as well as the FC Koln shirt that I fetched from a trip abroad). Something that he'll cherish for ever, and will last him a lifetime.

I tell him, that I've got him a guitar. Not just any guitar...

You can tell where this is going.

I spin round to my mum's house, and upon arrival I can see my dear sibling bouncing up and down with excitment in the front room.

K is practically having an epileptic fit when I get in doors... "where is it, where is it?"...

So, I give him the car keys, say "it's in the boot", and watch him sprint off with glee to my car, pop open the boot and...

There's nothing there.

Well by this point I'm in stitches. My ma's cottoned on what's happening and trying not to laugh. K's look was a combination of puzzlement and disappointment. Something was not right.

Of course, I'd bought him... a brand new Air Guitar!

I walked up to the car, asked what was wrong, K said he couldn't see anything despite me explaining that it was right in front of him.

The poor sod hadn't got a clue what was going on. In fact, when I explained what an air guitar was, that he didn't have to learn to play it, and he could take it anywhere he wanted and not break it, he was in tears.

Yes, I'd ruined my little brother's birthday.

Cue 11 years of carefully fostered trust, understanding and brotherly love thrown out of the window for a silly prank.

The fact that me, my other brother and my mum were laughing so hard we were in danger of ruining our underwear didn't help matters, neither did the fact that thunder and lightning started, ruining his hopes of going out on his new bike from his estranged dad.

The poor kid. Barely into double figures, and now the realisation that life is actually quite shit was hitting him quite hard on the very day he should be celebrating his existence. I'm surprised he didn't break into his mum's make-up box, get out the eyeliner and turn into a Goth right there and then.

So since then, instead of the automatic hug, cup of tea and biscuit presentation I get when I go round my mum's now, I get a scowl, a frown and a 'what do you want'? I like to think that this is his hormones kicking in, but we both really know it was down to that pristine air guitar still waiting to be used.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 13:22, 1 reply)

so easy : the first time I did vote, of course !
well, maybe the second time. Or the third... No, the fourth !
In fact, everytime I vote.
(optocouic, Mon 25 Aug 2008, 13:00, Reply)