I HAVE A WINNER !!!!!!!!!
Prince set for 'secret hip replacement'

The Age Melbourne - February 26, 2008 - 10:17AM

Fingers crossed... pop star Prince reportedly requires hip replacement surgery.
Pop singer Prince - who released his first album in 1978 - is being forced to undergo the surgery at just 49-years-old after suffering excruciating pain as a result of years of blistering performances.

A source told Britain's News of the World newspaper: "For months Prince, who always puts on the most energetic shows, has been complaining of pain every time he moves.

"He is totally crushed because he knows he will never be the same again."

The surgery will involve removing the ball and socket of Prince's damaged hip and replacing it with a titanium joint.

What with all the fuss about the Purple Pain a few weeks ago, I thought B3ta should be the first to know . . .

I shouldn't giggle, but man - *that's* karma . . .
( Mrs Legless . . . belongs to, well, you know . . . :), Tue 26 Feb 2008, 8:01, 5 replies)

Bloody pub fights
Hows this.

About 2 years ago was having a beer with a few friends when a pub fight kicked off in one corner.

Nothing major we thought and just carried on drinking. After a couple of hours we were pretty smashed and I left to jump on my bike and cycle home (was only about 5 mins). Anyway, as I walked out the pub a group of blokes thought I was the one who started the fight and chased me, unfortunately they got me and beat the living shit out of me which was nice of them.

Anyway, cut to about 6 months later and I see one of these fucks in a pub, he was with a couple of mates and so was I, I was prepared to leave it as I hate getting in fights, but after 30 mins or so he piped up about kicking the shit out of me a while back, so I gave him a slap and he fell to the floor crying like a girl, his mates came rushing over and it all kicked off, I ended up breaking a chair over someone who was about to glass a mate. It all calmed down but the guy was pretty fucked so called an ambulance who turned up with police, the guy was taken off to hospital but was fine in the end, and I was explaining to the police what happened. Then…

Well this is where karma kicks in. As im standing by the road side a truck full of old furniture is going too fast round a corner and a stall flies off and cracks me round the back of the head and knocked me out cold. Ended up in the same hospital and in a bed next to the guy I hit with a stall, ended up being an ok bloke and both apologized for acting like twats.
(Lanceuppercut, Tue 26 Feb 2008, 4:40, 4 replies)

I choose pistols at dawn!
Well once upon a rosy summer's day as the birds chirped out their territorial war-cries, and sparse clouds slunk with silent guilt across the sky my compadres and I came over all peckish like. So it was mutually agreed, though from whom the suggestion originated is lost to the annals of history, that we should pop down t' shops. Being a teenager I decided to leave my mark on society by undertaking to achieve this ambitious venture barefoot. Twat. So I removed my socks in preparation for the voyage and we duly set off - "The Fellowship of Idiots Who Pay For Sweets In Small Change."
En Route we began to debate the potential existence of a "God," or "Gods," holding up the queue as the wealthiest of our number lost track of his pennies.

We pay and leave. Outside now, the sun beating down on this beautiful day and I prepare to deliver the final blow to religions worldwide. Richard Dawkins got nothin' on me. I declare my genius.
"Alright then 'God,' I challenge you to a duel!"

...and promptly step in dog shit.
(FurtiveBiscuit, Tue 26 Feb 2008, 4:22, 1 reply)

Quick Story
I had a work assessment which was basically 25 minutes of character assassination by someone that was 15 years younger than me and straight out of college. Considering that he spent most of his time looking at tranny porn instead of working I was a little upset and I hatched a devious plan to destroy him.

Sadly I was thwarted by him being caught stealing loads of money from the tills 2 days later and filmed by the CCTV cameras I had installed when I wasn't sloaping off and generally doing some of the things he accused me of.

Not sure if its Karma but I laughed myself silly.
(bluetuba has a special friend in Blue Label Smirnoff, Tue 26 Feb 2008, 3:27, Reply)

The pain.
Let me set the scene.

It's Friday night, I've had a hard week at work and I'm out at my local with my girlfriend of the time with the intention of enjoying myself and arriving home some time late Saturday morning.

Things were looking up, especially as there was a new waitress who was fine fine fine eye candy.

Anyway the night progressed, games of pool were lost and won and my karaoke rocked as usual. As I got drunker and drunker I of course got more and more flirty with the new waitress. As Dee- my girlfiend- got drunker and drunker she gave me more and more grief for flirting with the waitress.

Things came to a head with me turning to Dee and almost shouting 'Look , I've done nothing wrong, I haven't fucked her, and I'm not going to. We're just talking and you're pissing me off. Now shut the fuck up or fuck off, I don't care which.' This seemed to do the trick, Dee chilled and apologised, while all the males at the table looked at me with a new found respect, and the girls all pissed off to the toilet to no doubt discuss what a cunt I am.

The night continued and all was well, yet as the 2nd bottle of whiskey was emptied, and the 3rd ordered, I saw that wankered glaze in Dee's eyes and knew things were going to kick off. And kick off they did. A blazing row about my imagined infidelities ensued with the result of Dee being helped to one of the rooms upstairs to sleep it off, while I sat in the bar seething, my night ruined.

Of course a plan to redeem the night soon formed in my drink addled mind, which was to fuck the waitress of course, I was in the old if you're going to get the shit for it you may as well do it frame of mind.

It hit 3 'o clock, my local was closing and I made my move, asking said waitress if she wanted to move on for drinks and fun.

We did, and about four hours later I found myself making a sandwich filling of the waitress, with my twin piece of bread being a toilet wall.

And jolly fun it was as well, right up to the point the karma kicked in. Being drunk I couldn't come, and being very unfit indeed my heart was telling me things were getting a bit much for it, so I suggested a change of game plan, namely I'll sit on the toilet and you can sit astride me and ride me like a rodeo bull.

All was well once more, until, slap slap slap slap scwelch pop AAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH, oh dear God, AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH.

The problem being I'd slipped out and the young lady of the moment had come down hard on me and broken my cock.

I can't really explain how bad this was. Just trust me it was bad.

And things got worse. The final karmic score for being a bit of a cunt, then cheating.

One broken cock.

One bill of £600 for the operation to fix it. 100% successful thank fuck.

One week of hell from the missus.

Two months with no sex.

One month of my missus going out on the pull- she did last a month I'll give her that- because she wasn't getting any from me.

And the final insult to injury: 100 boiled eggs I was forced by the girlfriend to take to the temple as a thank you for my cock mending. Fucking Karma.

Insert change of length joke here.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Tue 26 Feb 2008, 2:27, 7 replies)

my flat mates
girl directly above me has feet of iron, girl directly to left has loud arguments with boyfriend at 3am and girl directly to right has a foghorn voice and is unable to get in quietly when she's been for a night out.

fools. fools. next year, two more boys are living with us. of course, when they were invited into our merry household, no one knew they were both drummers. i also play the bass. i look forward to petty revenge. or karma. whatever.
(ladyintheradiator, Tue 26 Feb 2008, 1:27, 1 reply)

InstaKarma - Just add Moped
My brothers moped was just stolen this morning. Nobody heard anything, despite it being parked around the back of our house, and both me and my father were home at the time. (Ok, was sound asleep, so sue me)
On this particular moped, the handlebars are connected to the front forks by an aluminum tube about 2 cm across. Not hefty, but not usually something you'd just bend or break with your hands. And there's some sort of lock on the handlebars that prevent them from turning.

Now...our culprit had forced the handlebar in some way, probably through brute force and ignorance, and had made the front wheel turn straight ahead. Then he'd started it up and ridden a few metres before the steering column snapped in half from him forcing the lock. I'm sad to say I didn't witness it, but reportedly he flew off in spectacular fashion landing flat on his face.

In addition, said brother rides motocross once or twice a month, so fixing the bike will cost no more than the parts...not a lot.

Sure made me smile a bit.
(Jindrak, Tue 26 Feb 2008, 0:57, 2 replies)

Karmic Retribution?
I was 16, severely messed up from events I don't need to go into here, and pretty emotionally vulnerable, (not to mention very immature!) - some of the reasons I got ensnared into a bizarre underworld which, by comparison, make the shenanigans of Shameless look pretty tame...

I got pregnant at 16, and, while in such a happy condition, my partner (to give you a flavour of his lovely nature) was basically shagging anything that walked, buggering off out of our flat at 6 am to go to his mum's with the only set of keys, so I was either forced to stay at home or wander the streets til he decided to come home...he spiked my tea with lsd 'for a laugh', seduced his 15 year old cousin in our flat, sided with some of his mates who'd raped a girl by holding her down in turns (which, incidentally, was so similar to the reasons I left home as could not tell my alcoholic mother/workaholic father)...I obviously didn't know the last fact til I was pregnant and had burnt all my bridges and teenage pride...stupidly, one of the reasons I was attracted to him was because I thought he'd stop anything else evil happening to me...

It culminated in him beating me up and locking me in the car one sunny August afternoon after I'd asked for a few hours with friends instead of incessant baby care and housework - basically, even though they were all female, we were playing pool, I was 3 stone overweight, he accused me of playing around.

As we sped around the hole of the town where I grew up he told me he was going to knock me out and torch the car with me in it...

There aren't many times I've been so terrified - I did the only thing I thought I could and leapt out of the car - hey, better to kill yourself that sit by and let someone else do it. I just vaguely remember seeing out of the corner of my eye the spreading pool of blood on the road and hearing people screaming...

Fast forward a bit (I have to, I've lost months/years of detailed memories because of losing so many brain cells on the road - though, funnily enough, my dad says that's what finally knocked some sense into me - every cloud huh?)

He got it together with a younger girl (I was 18 by the time of the accident) and they had another baby. The only time I saw him cry was when that baby was born...

Before anyone starts yelling at me - this is NOT NOT NOT the karmic point (although he, the stupid bastard that he is, thought it was god's way of punishing him for being a C*nt)

She was born with Down's syndrome - and is really badly affected by it (I've got a couple of mates with Down's and you can only tell they have it by the physical characteristics - it affects different people to different degrees) and as one of the side effects had hole in her heart. Surgery to correct this caused alopecia, so little Beth is bald, she also has massive difficulties in speaking, so communicates part by speaking, part by sign language - my son (there's a 3 year age gap) learnt it, so they always got on really well - she really loves her big brother.

Anyway, the Karmic Retribution for Charlie was Beth, not because of her genetic makeup - but because she's the only woman who's ever stood up to him.

Now, Beth's perfectly able to have a conversation and know exactly what she wants, and is a loving and beautiful young lady - if you can be bothered to listen to her and learn to speak with her - but this guy's way of bringing (hauling) up the next generation is to belittle, intimidate, bully and insult them. He told me about 5 years ago he thought our son would grow up gay (as if it mattered) because he was always in clean clothes and had nice manners....

So a strong minded, 'no-shit' attitude little girl who has so far grown up to far out-weigh his 9 stone 5'6" frame seems to be just what he needed. Seeing her thwack him one in his shins when he's putting her, or someone she loves down,is quite heart warming...and it makes me love her all the more for it...

She takes no shit from him, she tells him like it is, seeing her one time tip a whole bucket of MuckDonalds fizz on his head as he was driving (his un-mot'd, un-insured car, the toss) when he was being his characteristic, knob-like self was hilarious.

She has no fear, she does not give a duck for social niceties, she's never been worried by thoughts of 'scared of being rude to my dad even though he's a bucket full of w@nk'.

She tells it like it is, and that is a gift, not a disability.

She's the daughter I always wanted, feisty, strong minded, perfectly intelligent, (just unable to communicate in the way than the majority of people can) The icing on the cake is that she is the only person who can let him know what a fuckwit he is - and know that he doesn't know what to make of it.

Heh, Beth rocks!

As a little p.s. my own son, Kieran finally got shot of his father about 6 weeks ago - he (nearly 15, skateboarding, guitar playing, Kurt Cobain lookalikee, friends with girls because they're people too, and doing bloody well despite having such shits for parents thus far) had a call from him, and nearly vomited when his father (sperm donor) informed him he was trying to impregnate a girl the same age as most of Kieran's friends - 18.

Kie put the phone down...thought about it...asked me and slimtallgoth's opinion...and promptly rang him back, and left the following message - you're a f*cking paedophile and if you ever come near me I'm going to rip a door off it's hinges, ram that down your throat and shove the knob up your ar$e!

I don't think Beth could have put it better herself.
( curvylittlegoth heard the voices in your head on, Tue 26 Feb 2008, 0:18, 18 replies)

I just remembered this lovely bit of Karmic retribution:
About 3 years ago, I decided - on the advice of my father, who can been a typerwriter-courier in London for many years - to get a moped. At the time, the thought of the freedom was immense. Being able to go out on my own, get out of the house and travel wherever I wanted, at the drop of a hat.

His neighbour, happily enough, was selling his son's moped, so he could afford a car. It was a Peugeot Speedfight, 100cc, in Prost blue. My dad took it out for a ride, and said it was fine, and promptly paid the £500 asking price. I didn't get a say in it, but then I wasn't the one coughing up the dosh.

We got it back to my house, a mere 140 miles away, by hiring a van. I passed my CBT test easily. That was about the time the problems started.

Since owning the bike, I have found out that the previous owner had come off it whilst taking a corner too fast. This meant that o nthe first MOT, the following problems were found:

Bent handlbars
Bent kickstand
Damaged front an rear wheel
Broken front headlight
Badly fixed immobiliser (meaning I had to have a new one)
Damaged carb float
Missing air filter
Damaged HT lead and spark plug.
Completely duff battery.


The totat cost for these to be fixed? Around £1200. since then, I have had to spend another £400 on other minor issues.

Oh, yes, the karma. It turns out that the scrote who sold me the bike did indeed use his money to buy a car. Which he totalled whilst going too fast around he exact same bend. This time, however, he wasn't so lucky, breaking both his legs and causing his insurance to drop him.


Me: £1600 out of pocket
Him: Lost his car, his insurance, his job (he worked for a delivery company which required their own insurance), and the use of his legs for several months.
( OneSullenBrit *air sandwiches*, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 21:27, 3 replies)

Daily Mail!
A mate of mine writes for the Daily Mail, and took perverse pleasure introducing her muslim, eastern european property magnate of a Boyfriend to members of their Christmas party.

Surprisingly, half of them didn't give a damn.

Worringly, half of them did.
(rhyswynne - on every social network mullarkey known to man, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 21:24, 6 replies)

Arrogant youths.
Lets go back...

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back about 1986. 2 fresh faced youths have travelled from the sticks (Kidderminster) to Birmingham to shop.

Walking back down New Street towards the station, after a busy days shopping, we were approached by this short black guy - cool looking dude.

"Hey guys, Ive got something here that will blow your minds"

Now neither of us had (or have in my case) touched Drugs - but thats what we thought he was selling. We didnt want to appear square, so we said "go on"

He reached into his bag and bought out a book called "On the Way to Krishna". I bought one for £1.

Karma 1, Cocky youths 0
(kitescreech still here, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 21:22, 2 replies)

Maybe i'm just unlucky
So much for Karma... Being the poor student type i tend to walk places a lot - Just before Christmas i bought my girlfriend some nice prezzies and decided to drive to see her to save my legs and to avoid the strange looks of having a large stuffed donkey under my arm (Yeah, don't ask...). Only problem was it was a very icey day and some nonce decided to park right on the corner of an ungritted road (which he still does to this day) - In my rush to get there slid into the car with the featheriest of touches, ended costing me £250 through an extortionate main dealer garage. - I'll think twice about being nice to people next time :S
(benbread, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 20:02, 4 replies)

sdlkfjsfsfsjfisdf asdk apd
Translation.

"I wanked to much as a yoof and now i'm blind"

karmas a bitch.
(PassTheKhat, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 20:02, Reply)

Vehicular mishaps
Came out of a site one day to find a note under my windshield "cack - must be a ticket". Resignedly open it to discover it's (literally) dutch and I can't understand a sodding word of it. Drive back to the digs, ask the receptionist to translate - apparently someone had spilt paint all over the front bumper. Quite miffed now, as it's a hire car, I go to check it out - and find one _tiny_ speck of white gloss next to the number plate. Can only assume they thought the car was pricey (it's not - at all - it does look quite nice tho)
Bin the note, no point in being a prick about what is really not a big deal. Ho hum.

Same site, week later, reversing out of a space, check the road behind me and turn around just in time to see my wing mirror being nicely smashed by the parked car beside me. 1000 EUR liability for repairs and the annoyance of not being alert enough to double-check my parking see me leaving a note for the driver of the other car, details etc etc. Not a bloody scratch on his car though - nothing.

Wait and wait - other bloke never calls to arrange swapping details etc, result - also manage to get my mirror repaired on the cheap before taking it off-hire (97 EUR all in as opposed to the absolute ramming I'd likely get had Avis done it).

hooray for courteous driving
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 18:56, Reply)

budgie
i had to take my brother's budgie to the vet for a pedicure at the weekend as he and his girlfriend were on holiday.

the budgie doesn't like me because it doesn't see me very often. it also decided that it didn't like the vet and it reeeeeally didn't like the nail clippers. so it escaped, flew around the surgery a few times, hid on the curtain rail, had to be chased down by a highly irritated vet on a ladder, got caught, had one foot done, bit me so hard i dropped it, flew straight back up to the curtain..... "catch it!" said the vet, and i am there leaping around thinking, "oh yeah love, let's see you sprout a pair of wings and get up there after it"...

anyway. eventually all was done and the budgie sulked all weekend. you'd think they couldn't have facial expressions. you'd be wrong.

idiot from the deeds store at work this morning dropped a box of deeds and i tried to catch it. broke 3 of the beautiful, elegantly french manicured nails that i have been cherishing since new year (resolution: have a manicure every week, thought i might as well do something i could actually stick to).

now i have bitten ugly short fingernails that don't match the other hand and i know exactly how the budgie felt...
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 18:42, 12 replies)

Karma curry
Yesterday I evily and horridly munched and crunched up a lot of sweet, tender little chillis. This morning, in what was possibly the fireiest bit of karmic retribution ever, my poop chute exploded with the most ringstinging squitshits I have ever suffered from. I'm not saying the chocolate star was on fire but the toilet paper spontaneously combusted before it was close enough to catch a drip.
Karmic or colonic retribution? You decide..
(godisdove I like cheese, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 18:04, 1 reply)

Life's a lottery
The National Lottery is proof to me that there is no such thing as Karma.

We've seen the scummiest detriments of UK society scoop jackpots of £20million and stick it up their noses and generally show us just how sad society is while the people who could really change themselves and better the lives of many people with even a modest win get nothing.

Personally I've never even won £10 on the lottery but would like to think with some capital behind me to ease the burdon of living costs I could do some really beneficial business ventures and operate on a no profit basis, thus providing both jobs and a productive output. Instead I sit here each day ensuring I can pay the interest the bank demands on the massive mortgage I had to take out to buy a modest house for my family to live in. Some months I think if I put in extra effort I could save up and do something great, then the gas company brings me back down to earth with this weeks letter telling me their upping my monthly direct debit to £73. That almost makes the £1200 council tax seem good value to live in this small rural town.

Wow, the bin men even turned up this week which means I reckon next week the council must be putting the council tax up to pay for the fortnightly visit to avoid emptying my bins if I've put 1 wrong item in among the 100 correct ones.

Yeah I'm sick of it. Bollocks, I'm going home. As soon as I've worked enough overtime to ensure I can put some diesel in the car to be able to come back to work tomorrow. Yeah that's great, work hard to be able to afford to go to work. Why the fuck do I bother.

Don't worry, I'll write something tomorrow to let you all know I'm not swinging from a rope or anything.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 17:58, 9 replies)

commuting
I commute to work on the M5. 99% of the time it takes me 35 minutes. I could set my watch by it.

Even in the height of summer, trapped by caravans and tourists, it takes 1 hour on the Friday night.

So a couple of weeks back I finish work an hour early on the sly. Sort of a didn't take a lunch break thing but more accurately I was knackered and it was Friday.

Joyful at the idea of being home 25 mins before I normally even leave work I was dismayed to spot the "30mph ahead" warning on the motorway signs. So I quickly dashed off at the exit 1/2 mile ahead and was joyus in my quick thinking that presented me with a clear road to bypass the traffic.

Despite only needing to follow signs from Taunton southbound on the A38 I managed to get totally lost and was driving round on unlit country roads without a clue where I was.

By the time I made it home I had taken 2 hours to do my usual 35 min drive and somehow clocked up over 60 miles compares to my usual 33 miles. Despite chipping off early I'd managed to arrive home later than normal and was thoroughly pissed off.

Doubt I'll learn from my mistake though.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 17:36, Reply)

Local Journalism prt II
As I mentioned before, I used to work in local journalism with some of the most fucked up people you could expect to come across - not fucked up on drugs, but on life.

The most common complaint was the belief that they were all cutting-edge journos of the type John Pilger or kate Adie would look up to, with the associated swagger and smary 'brainyness' to boot, when if fact they worked for a title one step up from a village newsletter.

One particular tosser, who managed to get himself into a position of power over the rest of us when no-one lese wanted the job, was the classic example.

He would lecture us all about his great contacts were, and how he knew everything about the world of journalism and was on first name terms with all the heads of news at the national papers, although he never seemed to get any job offers...

But worse was to come. To explain a bit about how the world of journalism works: the local papers have a strange relationship with their larger brethern. It's quite common for the local guys to sell their stories on once they've been published in their own rag, or to give tip offs to the big boys when they hear something juicy. It's just the way the world works, and we all did it. But it's down to the individual journo to sell the story, and take the proceeds, and if they choose not to (it can be a hassle) then that's their decision.

However, after this twunt got his new job in charge of the newsroom, we started noticing our stories appearing in the nationals without us doing anything. One reporter, who was heading for retirement and couldn't give a shit about selling anything, was particularly affected. Of course, we soon worked out that the new boss was selling our stuff - and not only getting paid for it, but claiming the credit too.

Unbelievably, the bastard even denied it when we confronted him, although there was no doubt what was happening.

But as he was the boss, and we weren't violent people, there was nothing we could do .....

Fast forward a few years, and I had moved on to another job, but still in the same company. Journo world being the small pool that it is, I kept tabs on my double-dealing former colleague and even shared a few mutual friends.

So when a truly excellent job came up somewhere else, and I got it, I was delighted to learn he had gone for it as well, only to be unsuccessful.

But best of all, when I was talking to our mutual friend about my good fortune and impending move, she looked kind of quizzical, and said 'so are there two jobs going there?'

Yep, the story-selling shithole - full of his own importance - had got to the second interview stage as I had and assumed the job was his. Puffed-up beyond all measure, he went around telling everyone how he was destined for better things and even handed in his notice.

But alas, the sole position was mine, and he had to go crawling back and withdraw his resignation, accepting a demoted position in the process. Oh, to have seen his face when he got the call telling him he hadn't got the job! Or the moment he confessed he wasn't leaving after all to his 'loving' workmates...

So the motto of the story is, don't go behind your colleague's back, for indeed, Karma is a bitch.
(El Fandango carved a big EF onto his nemesis' doublet on .., Mon 25 Feb 2008, 17:21, Reply)

Gutbucket Karma
Payback is a bitch, but you know that.

Me? Well, I love food. Home Cooked or Fast Food, I'm happy with either. Just as long as it has flavour...which obviously rules out anything salad-ish. The result is that I'm a bit big.

OK, Morbidly obese.

Karma - Currently on the starvation diet prior to
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adjustable_gastric_band
( Tepid_Halibut felt like a cold, empty shell of a human...until, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 17:21, 1 reply)

Girl! Loss! Karmic retribution!
Once upon a time, back in that fair city Paris, lived an even younger Exiled Youth, and verily, he was smitten.




Well, you know what the young are like. I spent the last of my studenty funny money pennies buying a ticket for my beloved to come see me. A plane ticket, even in this Easyjet age, was an expensive thing for me.


Being an original kind of chap, I thought February 14th would be the best time for her to visit. I waited long winter months without seeing her, because I was in France, and she was in the arse end of nowhere, saving plague victims or something equally worthy.


And then, the first karmic act. I did something shitty, and was dumped, quite rightly so. Instant karmic balance -- one girlfriend hurt, one boyfriend heartbroken (yes, despite said shitty-ness).


Well, once the heart-wounds had healed enough to allow cogent conversation, I called her. I let her know to keep the ticket and come out anyway. She declined. I said it could be as friends. She declined. I said she could just use it to have a girly weekend with a mate of hers, and not see me at all. Still declining.


"Well," reasoned I, "I can just get one of *my* mates out then, you can transfer the ticket, right?". Apparently, I wasn't heartbroken enough last time.



Lost the girl, lost the ticket, lost the money, lost the chance of a weekend's heavy drinking with a mate, and so I had to spend Valentine's Day in Paris on my own, a miserable experience I wouldn't wish on anyone.


But then two weeks later, she got run over by a disabled driver while she was trying to cross the road, so you know, "every cloud..."



Don't cheat kids, the karma fairies will make you pay.



EDIT: I forgot to put in the *point* of the story -- I met a local, and we got married 18 months later. The End.



Although, given that this is such a wonderful thing, karmic theory dictates something horrible is around the corner. Which means it's a Good Thing I don't believe in Karma. Good QOTW, though.
(Exiled Youth [witty comment], Mon 25 Feb 2008, 17:02, 2 replies)

Car crash
Happened to my mate. (but it is true I saw the evidence)

He was driving back from work one day in his newish company car when he saw some idiot speed freak who decides to igmore incoming traffic on a roundabout and power his way across.
Guess who the idiot hit?
Guess what the idiot did afterwards?
Guess what the idiot left behind?

Answers:
My mate.
Drove off at top speed like a little coward.
A large portion of his front bumper behind including his car number plate. What a shame a Policeman saw the whole thing and found the number plate. /cough

Karma got revenge.

Afterwards my mate said he felt quite disapointed that his new airbag in his new car didn;t employ after being in a crash.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 16:52, 4 replies)

Karma you say?
yesterday my brother and I were cleaning out the car and I decided it would be funny to use the vacuum to annoy him this caused him to get pissed off. I ran away from him in our icy driveway. long story short I ended up with a smashed nose, a free ride to the hospital and the loss of taste and smell for a while.
(McShaggswell, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 16:51, Reply)

Gay Karma
I had to share a top floor with a drug fucked chav who'd moved in after I did for a few years, we shared a kitchen and he made my life hell, particularly because he would regularly have loud parties and get drugged up senseless, eat all the food in the kitchen including mine, and then bang my door down the next day asking where it had all gone! Also because it didn't take him long to figure out I have a penchant for mutual manlove, so much merriment was made of that amongst him and all his druggy friends.

One of these 'friends' was his dealer, bit of a flash sort, lots of gold jewellery, very young girlfriend who never spoke and seemed to be purely eye candy, and he had a Liverpudlian perm and a permanent tan and talked often about working out. He regularly took this chap out in his flash car for a night of fun in the pubs and clubs, all expenses paid, free beer and drugs and a ride home, what a great mate, eh?

Well, one night I was home when they got back but was reading quietly to one small lamp and so wasn't obviously around, the music started and obviously the night was continuing next door, but I just turned on some of mine and carried on reading, until some of the sounds next door triggered something in my mind and I found myself walking over and putting my ear the wall to be sure of what I was hearing.

His mate was fucking him!

I'll spare you the gory details, but this it seems was a regular thing, and was apparently enabled by the deft use of alcohol and GHB, yes basically date rape by his acutely closet mate, and my extremely objectional and homophobic flatmate was being regularly butt fucked by his equally homophobic dealer, and all he knew about it the next day was drugs somehow make your arse sore.

From then on whenever I was called names and threatened by him and his cronies all I could do was smile and wonder how many of them had been taken for a nice night out and a trip home with their best mate and dealer.

BTW, I don't have to worry about him reading this and figuring it out, now, he took himself out of the gene pool a few years later long after I moved away by building a fire in the middle of his room to keep warm, presumably due to his habit of never wasting any of his dole/drug money on the joint 50p driven leccy meter, and died from the resultant carbon monoxide poisoning.

Karma, or just the inevitable rewards of stupidity when coupled with arrogant ignorance, you decide.
( ..wil, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 16:35, 6 replies)

On how I hate Opticians, and why Karma is crap...
It’s highly likely that, should reincarnation be a reality (and thus Karma also), I have been a very, very bad person/tree/ant in a previous life.

How does this manifest itself? Is my life horrible? Am I in my own personal hell? No. It’s quite a simple, insouciant attack on my everyday life in that every time I try to do something relatively simple, it turns out to be hugely difficult, and is often populated by a cast of completely incompetent characters.

For example:

I sometimes wear contact lenses. It’s a vanity thing: I’d always wanted to wear posh sunglasses, so the moment the sun comes out, in go the lenses and on go the Oakleys. And so it came to pass that I ran out of my prescription of daily throwaway lenses. I went to Specsavers (no, you should not go there), and had another lens test done, and paid them £60 for that and a new batch of lenses. This was 2 weeks ago.

Today, I realise that I have heard nothing about the lenses. So I call up Specsavers, who put me on hold for 20 minutes. I get bored of waiting, and walk down to the store. After queuing for half a millennia, I get to the counter, and say:

“Hi. I called earlier to find out if you had the contact lenses I ordered. I was then put on hold for 20 minutes, so I thought it would be quicker to walk here to find out if you have them.”

I was met with a blank stare. “Oh, right.” Said the person at the counter. “Can I akse when you ordered them?” (What the hell does 'akse' mean anyway? And what do people mean when they're being 'pacific'? it's ASK and SPECIFIC!)

And so I regaled the story again. I gave her my name, and she rifled through her drawers (careful now). At this point, she told me that I was not on their records.

“That’s funny,” I said “as here is my receipt that says I am.” They had managed to spell my name incorrectly – clearly, spelling your name phonetically when it is difficult to spell is a concept too abstract for some people to comprehend. Eventually, we found my file.

They only had the left lenses in.

“I can give you the left ones, if that helps?” she said.

“How is that helpful? Leaving me half-blind is helpful, is it? I’m trying desperately not to be angry, but so far I’ve paid you £60 for precisely nothing. I’d like to know what you’re going to do about it!”

The short answer is: nothing. I’m left waiting, with no way of finding out what is where and how long it’s going to be there for. Grrrrr.

OK, it’s not on topic, but then neither are the posts that go along the lines of “LOL someone pissed me off when I was a teenager so I hit them with a brick when I was older and harder LOL”; which hardly illustrates the delicate balance of Cosmic Harmony, does it? Besides, I don’t believe in Karma… After years of study and hard work, the best job I can get is as a recruitment consultant. I hate myself.

/End rant. Move along, nothing to see here...

EDIT: I hate my job. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. If anyone is a hiring manager and wants someone who is keen to learn, enthusiastic and dedicated, I'm there! Just don't make me do sales! :)
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 15:20, 2 replies)

Why does it feel like a Wednesday?
It does though, doesn't it.
( girlinthehole, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 14:51, 10 replies)

I work with a man who is utterly abhorrent.
He's an arrogant American chap who, at Christmas, rammed his version of festivity down the entire office's neck. This included lots of tinsel, a singing nativity set and an advent calendar that he guarded WITH HIS LIFE. So, one of the guys ate the largest chocolate (designated for Christmas Eve) and left this in its place.

I'm not sure it's strictly karma, but it was fucking awesome.
( Fictional Emma, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 14:11, 7 replies)

Ex Girlfriends
Between the ages of 18-19 I was dumped by no fewer than 3 girls. The first one I'd been with since we were 15 and she was the most possesive psycho I've ever known. I tried to break up with her about a year and a half into the relationship, only to have her knock on my front door with her uncle and force me to stay with her. I was only 16. She made me spend every second with her and I'm ashamed to say that I did everything she asked, including cutting a few mates out of my life (I stayed in touch with them, just at school/college). Anyways, towards the end she started being a knob and then dumped me (best day of my life!). 2 months later, pregnant and the numbers make it 100% certain not to be mine! She put me through at least 2 years of hell (I quite enjoyed the 1st year) and was repayed with a fat/ugly baby boy. The 2nd girlfriend basically spent all of my over draft in the space of a month because I was still in mug mode from the last gf. She dumped me and I was gutted. A few weeks later, she dropped out of uni and last I heard she was on the dole. The 3rd girlfriend was proper wierd. I only went on a date with her cos I was pissed and my best mate set it up for a laugh. She wasn't bad looking, just freakishly skinny and had the personality of a retarded vimto stain. We went on the date and somehow just became boyfriend and girlfriend. She was a bit posh and wouldn't tell me that her dad was a copper because she thought I was some sort of closet criminal due to the fact I lived in the Walton/Anfield area of Liverpool. Anyways, I'd already signed up for the whole Camp America thing before we stared going out. I was leaving in 2 months time. In those 2 months she'd booked flights and a weeks accomidation in a hotel near the camp. We were in the middle of hicksville and I told her I worked basically all the time and she'd be bored. She came over and dumped me halfway through the week because I didn't spend any time with her. I get back to blighty and uni and see her. Bear in mind, this was a timid, middle class girl. The sort you'd expect to see in church every sunday and all that jazz. Another ex preggers! I couldn't believe it. Defo not mine either cos I was too repulsed by her body.

Karma's been good to me. I've been wronged thrice by women and 2 of them are now mothers and the other one's probably giving out at the back of some pub.

I now live with my girlfriend of 3.5 years by the beach in Australia, who I met in America on camp.

Apologies for the length, but not really
(Visionaryofthe1980s www.myspace.com/visionariesofthe1980s, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 14:03, 2 replies)

Bullied by the world
I went to primary school in a village in Kent. (Couple of miles in from the north Thames Estuary coast, in Swale). In my class (of 1980/81) there a gang of four who were Quite Smart; me, Martin, John and David. We used to hang out together, as kids of this ilk will do; bike rides, building forts down on the Rec, you know the sort of thing.

There was also a little gang of other kids; led by Lee who was also Quite Smart, who was followed by Paul, Mark, and possibly a couple of others who I have forgotten. Lee was very jealous of the other smart kids, and hugely competitive - we were just doing our best & trying to get along with everyone else. Lee would get Paul & Mark to wind us up, and one day - and I forget why - I agreed to a fight with Mark, after school. Mark was an archetypal heavyweight thicknecked knuckle-dragging shitwit, I was a scrawny kid. Hmmm.

So, we get out of school at 3:15 or whenever it was and I try to do a runner, but I get caught by Mark who gets me on the floor and keeps at it; I don't remember if he kicked me when I was down but suffice to say, I Lost. He may have had his cronies with, I don't know.

I lived in fear of these shitwits throughout my latter junior school years, and to a lesser degree (I went to a different school to them at eleven years of age) thereafter too. I never was a fighter of any sort.

Fast forward ten years, and I've driven back home for Christmas or somesuch from university in my shitbox motor - it may have been a Sierra or a Renault 21 but it was cheap. I'm just about to pull out of the estate my dad used to live on (we've since abandoned the village entirely), when I see two figures trudging across the T-junction right in front of me. They are moving from left to right; leading the way is a girl, teens/early 20s, dirty blonde hair that needs a wash pulled back into a council facelift, wearing a dark blue kagoul, badly fitting jeans (saggy arse syndrome) and grubby white trainers, pushing a knackered looking Maclaren buggy with a little'un in it. Her head is bowed, there is an air of resignation about her. Behind her trails the boyfriend/husband, dressed identically; blue kagoule, saggy arse jeans, grubby white trainers, again lank greasy hair, only his is flapping about. It's quite obvious that these two are going nowhere ever, they'll never escape the village and will live and die on benefits.

The man described above was Mark.

From a childhood of bullying the smaller kids to an adult life of being shat on by the rest of the world.

Curiously, I didn't feel *all* ha-ha-ha about it; while no doubt he got what he gave in a roundabout way, I feel sorry for his kid; poor little sod's doomed from day one, and with his/her dad's genes knocking about, it doesn't bode well for his future either.

Despite a childhood of fear of bullying, that makes me sad.
( Fathter Puddytat Kill Kill dat widdle boid is mine on, Mon 25 Feb 2008, 13:50, 2 replies)