8yr old vs wasp
When you're eight, you are probably criminally stupid. Or it may have just been my school and me, because already, and this was 14 years ago, the term "gay", "bender" etc al were already used as playground insults.

Bear with me on this. Outside of school, my sister and I would always fight and bitch at each other -you gotta love sibling love. :/ This summer afternoon, she's come in screaming from the garden, almost in tears. A GIANT wasp is chasing her, but thankfully it misses her. Me being as socially graceful as Bob Mugabe's testicles, sniggered and told her:

"Only gays get stung!"

Badbadbadbadbad move.

Next day I'm going a few minutes walk around the corner to get milk and what should crash into my forehead but a wasp?
"Uh...CHRIST!" thinks I in a jolt, and smack it. It stings me. Hard. On the frigging thumb.
I ran home yelping and spent an hour patching it up and stopping it stinging. It stung like fuck I can tell you.

As an addendum, now I'm 22, quite a few of my mates are gay/bi, but I currently have a gf. :)
(FightingComet got Boost Power on, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 22:29, Reply)

Nothing.
Karma is the sum of all the things you do through eternity. At no point has it ever been suggested by a Hindu or Buddist that your karma has an effect on your luck.

That's a very western idea.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 21:40, 5 replies)

Fat Cunt
Whilst enjoying Sunday lunch at a local restaurant with my wife and daughter, I popped outside for a post-main course cigarette. Now the restaurant was on a corner of a busy, but flowing junction therefore there was often traffic waiting to turn just by the ashtrays.

Nicotine heaven was interrupted by the noise of a clapped out Escort with a big bore exhaust having the shit revved out of it waiting to turn right. Now slightly annoyed, I was even more pissed off when the chants of "FAT CUNT" were hailed through the open windows by the four chavs within (note - I'm sure that I could lose a couple of pounds, it creeps up on you as you get older, but not fat and I wont get into the cunt argument ;-) ).

Just as I was about to flick my cig end into their car, it wheel spun away thereby missing my opportunity for petty revenge.

How I laughed as the Transit van ploughed into the side of the fuckers at speed. Dessert was even sweeter watching the Ambulance service scrape the bastards off the road from my vantage point in the restaurant.

P.S. No one died.
(Fucksticks, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 20:48, 6 replies)

Karmic beatdown.
This is long-winded, so be patient.

Women. You hold the key to Karmic beatdowns. Your finger essentially hovers over the button waiting to press it when some man wrongs you - i know, and i will explain.

Men. Don't fuck with women. Really. 'The Sisterhood' is strong, and they can push that button to issue karmic beatdowns at /ANY MOMENT/.

So, if you're happy in your relationship (long term) and some floozy takes your fancy... just don't. Because if you do, and the other finds out... well, you're not getting sex for years. YEARS.

We were a happy couple, but i was with the roving eye. Or cock. Whatever. At any rate, whilst promising her the world (a flat, an engagement, a future!) i was making sleazy moves on another.

Push comes to shove, and i have to choose. I choose new floozy.

I expect karma to reign supreme.

Sure enough, 2 years down the line my karma arrives in the form of a similar line i used with the ex:

"It's not you, it's me. I want different things."

...

... only to discover different things meant different people, and by different people she meant her old lover. Who's married. With kids.

Geez, thanks.

I can hear my ex cackling... why shouldn't she? But no, that cackle isn't because of my misfortune with new floozy. Oh no, i saw that smug look and it was sheer delight because of something else.

It's because she's unleashed the BATS from the Karma Cave and they're going to rape me to death with their batlike evilness.

To boot, with singledom and the complete inability to make headway with women, i get a bout of serious depression. Yay!

Very, very serious depression. The kind that requires interventionist-treatment-to-save oneself kind of depression.

But heyho, that's karma for you. One expects these kind of things. At least my sheet is clean now.

Thanks lass, I was a cunt, you were a cunt. These things work out for the best ey?
(Schumann makes awesome quiches., Sun 24 Feb 2008, 20:17, 1 reply)

Karma
This is a story I have never fully told anyone anywhere, I guess its something that I try to forget about, but occasionally it rises to the surface.

Many many years ago when I was but a young monkey, I had a really close knit group of friends, one guy Greg had been my best friend ever since we were at primary, and our birthdays were three days apart, we were more like brothers.Then over the years at secondary school we'd aquired a couple of other friends, Stu and Ian, where by the time we hit the sixth form we were as thick as theives, round at each others houses at the weekend generally drinking, going on bike rides, and all the other crazy things you do when your 17.

At this point to cut to the chase I started seeing a girl called Stacy who was a tad younger than me, suddenly my friends Stu & Ian were seeing her friends. Greg had already got himself sorted with the lovely Cate and they were one of those sick makingly cute annoying couples. Anyway me and Stacy got on Ok, she was my first proper proper girlfriend and everything was all roses.

Til after 4 weeks she phoned me up and dumped me, with no reason, one week before Christmas. Fine, I tried to carry on as normal,and was supported by Greg and Cate, and Cate's mate Tee who I'd been close friends with for years.

Then however Stu and Ian instead of supporting me, their mate whi'd they'd known for 6 years, they started bullying me, teasing, spreading rumours around school and generally throwing me to the wolves, as I wasn't one of the cool kids I didn't have a huge group of friends, and going in every day knowing that there were maybe 4 people you could trust in a sixth form full of 200 was quite hard.

So in the final months of my A levels when I should have been revising, instead my Gran died, and my so called friends had made me a pariah, an outcast. As a result I lost wieght, started drinking and instead of revising spent all my spare time at work where the people there at least liked me.

Culmination of this campaign was one night at a party where they spiked my drink to get me drunk and shave my eyebrows off. They never got me because Cate and Greg gave me the heads up, and because stupidly I thought something was going to happen, and was carrying a penknife just in case, a fact that still scares me to this day, and yes I know how stupid I was, but I had been pushed into a corner and wasn;t thinking.What was worse was that it was Tee who spiked my drink.

I failed my A levels, but managed to escape somewhere through clearing.

Meanwhile Stu and Ian had been dumped by their girlfriends, Tee had been forced to give up her job and adopt her younger sisters baby when he was born, and bring him up as her own. Stu like the bastard he was managed to steal Cate off Greg, get her pregnant then as soon as the baby was born he did one, as and as far as I know to this day he's never contributed anything to their well being, oh yeah he was heavily in debt and got in with a bad crowd, so if he survived from oweing the money to the bad people he borrowed from then I don't know what he's doing, cos no-ones heard from him for 10 years.

Tee is now an embittered drunk, who phoned me up many years ago when I was in the death throes of a relationship and admitted she'd always fancied me and that she wanted to go out with me, so we did for a while, and then she got her gay best friend to call me and say she didn't want to see me any more, so she's clearly never grown up from the sixth form.

Greg went to uni and did very well for himself, whilst Ian and I occasionally communicate via facebook.

I however took many many years to learn how to trust people again, but am now happy with a degree, a nice house, reasonable job, and some of the strongest and best friends anyone could have, and I know this time that these guys will be here for me.

Maybe my good friends now are Karmas way of aologising for the shit ones I had who made my last days at school a living hell. I only wish that then I'd been more like I am now, but I guess its those experiences which make us.

Apologies for length...pah who am I kidding, i don't apologise for length, just thats its never happened to me before this quickly.....
(Lord Monkey of Yorkshire,OBE killed a gipsy on...., Sun 24 Feb 2008, 18:39, 6 replies)

My ex flatmate used to make my life hell.
Around the two guys we lived with she was all sweetness and light, but manipulative and snidey to me. (She was also a bit odd...she stole all my cutlery and hid them in her room) Slowly she turned the boys in the house against me too, so that by the end of the year, whenever I was in the flat I had in my room, only coming out to cook or even cross the hall to the toilet when no-one else would see me.

Anyway, I really needed to pee one day, the sort that is accompanied by the pain to warn of imminent explosion. In desperation, I grabbed an ornate glass, and pee'd into it. It was an unfortunate time of the month to be caught short, and the resulting liquid looked less than appetizing.

Running late for uni, I got rid of the liquid, and left the glass in the kitchen without washing it properly. By the time I got back it had disappeared...It was very obviously mine, and nobody would have washed it for me, and its disappearance was a mystery until I saw it in her room a few days later…

My initial annoyance at her blatantly stealing my stuff was overwhelmed by the fact that she was in fact, drinking my pee (and worse) - and she NEVER washed it, it never came out her room until we moved out at the end of the year.

Even now I giggle…



Length? About 2 months until the lease ran out...
(micromassive Saw the Fnord on, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 18:05, 2 replies)

So yesterday,
instead of sitting at home, twiddling my thumbs and crying about mum, I decided to head to the lake with fishing gear in hand and just wet a line with my club buddies.
After dealing with the round of condolences I settle down in my chair with a couple of lines out - beautiful sunny day.
Now the lake allows boat anglers, who know they are supposed to stay behind the buoy line but occasionally a few will come closer to shore.
One such chap did just that, yesterday. He snapped both of my lines as well as my friends and after we yelled at him he finally moved back, and I did the slow, sarcastic clap.
Said chap shouts at me about how " little girls shouldn't be fishing anyway, leave it up to the men you skank whore" just as I notice my pole going bendo.
Reeled in a nice 6lb trout after it put up a good fight, and the entire shoreline burst out laughing as I held it up and yelled "Karma's a bitch, isn't it?"

Made my day, that did and I had a lovely dinner last night.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 18:01, 5 replies)

More tales from the hospital
Something a little more recent - I was working on a gastroenterology team, which meant all those who had pickled their livers most effectively via the medium of Tesco Value Trampagne would magically end up under the care of my team. These people weren't your common or garden drunks; these were the hardcore ones, the ones who would continue to drink despite being brought into hospital half-dead from bleeding torrentially out of both ends.

These guys are determined, and not the world's most pleasant characters. Neither do they associate with the most pleasant people, for those are the sorts who bring the boozes into the hospital. It is one Thursday evening, and it's 7pm. I'm tying up a little paperwork, and really, I should have gone home 2 hours ago, but that's the way things are. In walks the senior sister of the ward and says 'WD, you know the man in bed 17? Well, you'll have to throw him out.'

I look up to find her carrying a can of finest Diamond White. I enquire why - other than the not uncommon finding of booze. It turned out that in the attempt to remove the prohibited item from his clutches, one of the nurses did attain the can. In her face.

So I face the drunken man - who was oh so sorry, and it was all her fault; at this point I walked out of the bay, and decided to examine what I could do more closely. It turned out that though I was senior enough to tell him he might be thrown out, I had no power to ban him from the Trust; that was the consultant's job. Being now 7:30pm, there wouldn't be a consultant in the hospital, so after calling my boss on his mobile, telling him what happened. We decided I should sign what I could, and leave it at that - he'll deal with the rest tomorrow.

In the end, the man took his own self-discharge, and that was that.

Come Friday, and I'm making my way for a ward round with my boss. However, the first person I meet is not the team, but something from the management side of things. He then proceeds to bollock me in the ward for not throwing the twat out. I say nothing. I let him continue, giving him the noddies, as my boss, who is behind him, listens to him, then taps him on the shoulder and roars, 'because she can't - didn't you read your own policy? Get out of my sight!'

As for the drunken twat - he's now banned from accessing hospital services. The closest he can now get to a hospital is A&E, at which point he'll be patched up, and slung back out again.
(witty_ditty has made multiple miaows since, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 17:20, 2 replies)

Treat others as you'd like them to treat you.
I nearly posted this last week since it involves witnessing a crime but it fits karma too, even if I'm a cynical cow who doesn't believe in karma.

In my first year of University I got trapped in a bar fight in Lavery's, a well-known Belfast drinking establishment. My friends and I, on a night out celebrating someone's birthday, were trapped in the corner of the upstairs bar while we watched a full-scale riot erupt - someone was stabbed, another had his head battered with a chair, we were getting threatened to stay put with broken bottles... that kind of pleasant experience. The bouncers abandoned the scene when the blood started flowing. The police arrived and stood and watched from a safe distance (and bearing in mind that RUC men are armed, they still weren't getting involved), then finally a passing army foot patrol raced in and rather forcibly restored order and we managed to flee from the premises unscathed.

After the fight we walked home shocked and shaken. We all had images of people lying broken among the glass shards on the floor. My friend's boyfriend stopped to give me a hug - probably to stop the trembling - and our lips met in one of those "jesus, we're alive!" kisses. I clung on to him like I was drowning and tried to forget that my friend was in hospital with internal bleeding from her kidneys.

The following day was the first killing by the vigilante group Direct Action Against Drugs. It was rumoured that the fight we'd witnessed the night before was related to the shooting. Is that the karma bit? Nope.

Karma. Was karma losing all my friends when they found out what I'd done? No, that was my just punishment for betraying a friend. I made a really stupid mistake at the age of 19 and I paid for it, and I deserved to. I learned a huge lesson from it. Karma, however, was me developing low grade kidney disease ten years later.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 16:06, 6 replies)

Admin-monkey Hunting
My friend had a rather painful hip, so went down the usual route - see the GP, refer to Orthopaedic surgeon - seen by the consultant. Upon reaching the final hurdle, the date for his operation was set a mutually convenient time for both the consultant and my friend. He's a lecturer, so timing this replacement for the reading week in Summer was essential. So all was happy for a time, and life was good, if a bit painful and limpy.

Then comes a phonecall to my friend - one to the effect of, 'since you did not agree to having your operation as according to our new waiting list guidelines, we're cancelling it.' Nothing would move the 19-year old at the end of the phone and that was that. My friend was seething - volcanic would have been closer to the situation he was in.

At this time, I was working for an Orthopaedic surgeon in London. Now, anyone who has met these beasts of nature will know that though they may not have the grace and finesse of say, a lithe cat, they do have the raw effectiveness of a brick being applied repeatedly to the balls. They are also rather fun, and rather amusing to get drunk with. They also don't like their operating schedules fucked with; and many a time, assisting these guys over an open knee, have I seen some admin monkey been summoned into the operating theatre, to be 'made an example of'. My friend called me wondering what to do. Knowing that things in the NHS from an admin point of view tend to run around the doctors who have to provide a service, without letting the doctors know, I gave him this little piece of advice: tell the consultant that his nice tidy operating list has been changed by some 19 year old up in the admin-block. I'm sure he'd deal with it in his own unique way. My friend was not convinced this would work - but hey, it's worth a try.

The order of events then ran like this. The next day my friend called up the consultant's secretary, who was rather surprised to learn this was the case, and yes, she would pass on the message to Mr Ball-Breaker.

10 minutes later, she called back. 'You have your original operation date back. Just please don't ask what happened, OK?'

In the end, he got his operation 2 days earlier than that, which was even more convenient. Proving, perhaps, that karma can be six-foot of knuckle-dragging, Black and Decker wielding, pissed off, bone crunching surgeon.
(witty_ditty has made multiple miaows since, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 15:24, 4 replies)

I'm still kinda working on this one.
This is kind of a long and involved ramble without a punchline, so bear with me.

I live on the south side of Richmond Virginia, just outside of the city limits. I can travel ten miles from my house and either be in the city itself or in the middle of nowhere.

As I have been laid off yet again, I have a fair bit of time on my hands. As one can only do job hunting for so many hours per day, I find myself needing to get out of the house on my own a bit. Being unemployed, I have no money coming in, so I have to do things on the cheap.

One of the things I decided to do was play around with photography. So one day I got in my car and drove out along one of the main roads here in the direction of countryside, as I knew that there were some old farm buildings to be photographed out thataway. Here is one picture I shot, and here is a detail from the same building. Pretty cool, huh?

So after poking around in this building a bit and finding that it wasn't safe to go upstairs or even through some of the downstairs, I decided to look further out and see what else I could find. And sure enough, as I went by a bit of a hill that they had cut into for the road, I saw the peak of an old structure back in the trees. So I backtracked and found the old driveway and parked at the end, and continued on foot.

As I approached the house I became a little more hesitant- I could see curtains in the windows and other signs of habitation, yet the place was clearly not inhabited now. I stepped between rotted pieces of furniture on the front porch to the front door, and saw that it was standing open behind the screen door. Not sure what to expect, I stepped inside.

The house is full of furniture, clothing, dishes and glassware, much of it kind of scattered about- someone had obviously ransacked the place looking for anything of value, then left it where it was to decay. The roof has holes in it, so the ceiling has fallen in throughout much of it and the floors have begun to rot through- and throughout it all are someone's abandoned possessions.

I was morbidly fascinated by this and looked around very carefully, and realized the following:

-the house had been inhabited by an elderly black couple. I found women's clothes as well as men's, and two photos of little black kids- apparently their grandchildren. And amid the wreckage I found his social security card- but instead of being paper like mine, it was a small aluminum plate. I don't think they've issued those since the beginning of Social Security.

-the woman had predeceased the man. Her bedroom (they stayed in separate rooms) was in advanced decay, with much of her stuff gone. At a guess I would say she was gone between one and three years when he died, judging from the state of the house- it had been rather messy before it was ransacked.

-the man was one of those old black handymen that you rarely find anymore, the kind who drive an old pickup with some tools in it and can fix anything that ever worked in the first place. Behind the house sit a number of old vehicles, and his pickup truck- with some tools in the cab, along with his last load of laundry, still in the basket.

-he died there in that house, most likely in his sleep. There was still food in the kitchen and old bedding on his bed, his razor and toothbrush are still in the bathroom, his glasses were on the kitchen table, and I found what appeared to be his cane lying next to the bed.

Apparently they took out his body, his relatives rooted around for anything they might want, and left the rest to decay where it was. In his bedroom are about a hundred ties and at least fifty suits, still hanging. All of his books, his records (there was still an LP in the record player), his papers, everything he had, are still there in the rot.

I don't know what kind of karma the old man had to be treated in this way- Google turned up nothing at all on him, not even an obituary. Were it not for his Social Security card, I wouldn't have any idea of his name- and in another few years there won't be anything to show that he ever existed. His family obviously doesn't care- and that's what really sent a chill through me, so that I had to get out of there, fast.

And yet... well, I did take a few things from there, which I will cherish and use. I took his Social Security card, his glasses, his cane and a few hand tools that I can put to use. I'm going to see if I can find out who currently owns the property so I can contact them and ask if I can take the rest of his stuff out of there for the Salvation Army. If his family doesn't care about him or his stuff, then I will. Someone needs to. No one should die so ignominiously.

And an interesting note to this: when I picked up the cane it rattled a little. I found that the brass tip unscrews, so I tightened it- and still it rattled. So I twisted the top, and it unscrewed in my hand and came off. I turned the cane upside down- and a long piece of wood emerged, with threads on one end and a cap on the other. The cane is actually a full length pool cue, with a very elaborate dragon carved into the handle. I'm going to take it with me one night and shoot a game or two in his honor.

RIP, Emmitt.

EDIT: w00t, it's my b3ta birthday today!

Update: his family are still in the area, and very nearby. It appears that they're still using his identity, which is even more horrid, despite the fact that Social Security records his death in 2000.

If my kids do this to me after I die, I'm going to come back and haunt them by playing Barry Manilow in the night.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Sun 24 Feb 2008, 14:12, 13 replies)

Quick one...
Inspired by the lovely Mrs Legless' post below...

As some of you know, my ex wife became my ex wife by virtue of her having an affair (a fact I found out by hacking her email account - not proud of that, but it had to be done).

Anyhow, she maintained this relationship for about three years, but I was never really convinced it was going to last. Sure enough, I found out that she dumped him eventually...

But not before being wooed by her motorcycle instructor.

So, this bloke stole my wife of seven years (and overall relationship of 13 years), only to find that three years later, some cunt had done the very same thing to him.

How's THAT for fucking karma?

And, incidentally, myself and Tourette's celebrate our 5th anniversary next month, on 14th March. (I should point out that we met on Comic Relief day, which is probably apt).

So thanks, Pauline. You did me a favour.

And a big happy birthday to my beloved, who turns (censored) today. Happy Birthday, love.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Sun 24 Feb 2008, 13:56, 4 replies)

Queens Park Station
Those of you who have experienced the London Commuter will know that there are certain things called politeness and courtesy which seem to be alien to this particular flavour of person. Anyhow - it's rush hour, and my friend along with the contents of the train deposit themselves onto the platform at Queens Park. All, with the exception of one woman - pushing past with all the tenacity of a pitbull mangling a 2 year-old chav, elbowing everyone she cared to acknowledge, bellowing in a loud voice to all who cared to listen 'Excuse ME!'.

Everyone got off. There was a slight pause. Now - the Bakerloo line has an odd quirk with its recorded announcements - they occur after the event it warns you of happens.

The doors shut.

'This train terminates here.'

Cue the platform erupting in karmarific laughter as she screamed a soundless 'Nooooo!' whilst disappearing into the blackness of the depot.
(witty_ditty has made multiple miaows since, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 13:22, 6 replies)

Oh, hang on - wait, yes, it's definitely an idea...
...and it's a blinder - can't wait to try it out. Fits in the scope of this QOTW by a gnat's knacker too :)

I don't use the tram in Manchester much these days, preferring my bike because it's quicker, better for me and a lot more fun. But sometimes circumstances prevent it and my pet hate on the trams is still ignorant twats (mostly chavs, of course) playing some charty pop shite on their phones at top volume without headphones. Check through my previous post in the worst journey QOTW.

I've been thinking about this just now whilst I'm shopping to replace my sadly-dead travel speakers and the one I'm looking at isn't just travel-able, it's handheld - pocket-sized, even.

So one day soon, some unsuspecting pillock is going to have his/her listening pleasure quite cripplingly disrupted by the theme tune to The Magic Roundabout on an endless loop at a volume that totally blows their pissy phone speaker away. Looking around, they'll find no obvious source for the sound but instead some not-really-tiny bloke grinning manically at them, having to shout above the music to say to them, 'ANNOYING, ISN'T IT?'

Look out Manchester - the MP3 vigilante is coming ;)
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 11:41, 10 replies)

Having been a chugger I've seen my fair share of Karma
I've lost count of the number of snobby women on Kensington High Street that have tripped over/been shat on by birds/dropped all their shopping after saying something rude to a fundraiser.
( WormuIus, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 10:49, 3 replies)

Karma? And then some boyo!
I've never been one for the ladies. I like them fine, but 99% of the time, they end up as friends and nothing more. Hence my current marital state of "single"

Back in 2005 I was living in Cardiff and working nearby for a electricity company. I started seeing this girl, I'll call her Jen because that was her name.

I liked her a lot, she was my first girlfriend, and my first in a lot of other things as well. I was falling for her in a big way.

We'd see each other most weekends, and occasionally, I had a phone call that she was on her way to see me. She lived about an hours drive away with her brother.

Amazed by the level of attention I was getting from a reasonably attractive person of the opposite sex, I was starting to fall in love with her.

I called her one evening, as she'd been complaining of an ex-boyfriend stalking her and she was worried. I was too, after all, I didn't want her getting hurt or scared. On this occasion, her brother answered the phone and asked me never to call that number again. I was a little confused.

Over the next few months, my life started to fall to pieces. The company moved location, I started to run low on funds and had to abandon the flat I had and move back in with parents, and generally start to rebuild my life. The only good thing I had going was Jen.

Only it wasn't.

Over a period of two weeks, I went from being happy and in love to finding out Jen didn't live with her brother, but with her boyfriend, and that she wasn't only two-timing him with me, but with three other people. This girl who I worshipped referred to me as "one of her bits on the side"

I felt pretty sick at this point. My life had gone into the crapper within 3 months.

One evening, while my parents were out. I took all of the pills I had (Anti-depressants, painkillers, sleeping pills) and a large glass of water and laid them on the table in front of me. I stared at them for hours, gathering up the courage to take them, when my IM pinged and a friend appeared. She guessed pretty much from my responses that I was down, and I told her about the pills. Despite being in the US, and this being 3am, she got off IM, and called me. We spent about an hour talking, with me crying most of the time. She told me to put the pills away. I credit her with saving my life that night. (Thanks Da)

My life took a long time to put back together. I left the company I was with because it still put me in contact with Jen. I found a job closer to home which paid for a holiday in the USA, then left that job to work in England. From there, the company has moved me from England to the UAE where, instead of a crappy one bedroom flat in the Roath area of Cardiff, I have a 2 bedroom villa near the mountains and Persian Gulf.

And Jen? I couldn't give a flying funk where she is. the last I heard is that her live in boyfriend had kicked her out, she was on antidepressants (which I haven't needed in years), living with one of her other bits on the side and generally living like a chav.
(thatguythere is wondering where he is, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 10:48, 3 replies)

im hungry now
Just now, I was teasing my dog with some cold chicken....Holding it out to her then snatching it away again - childish stuff like that. She didnt look impressed. Bored of this, I turned away and the food all slid off my plate onto the floor.

The dog got the last laugh there I think.
(dave likes cheese, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 10:46, Reply)

Hand of God
I once won my country a less than deserved victory through the "Hand of God". Karma hit back big time a few years later, now I am a fat drug adict, who's only friend is an 80 year old ex-dictator in the Caribbean.
( RedWine President of the S.C.U.M., Sun 24 Feb 2008, 8:15, 1 reply)

Karma At The Drive-In
For my second ever QOTW attempt I thought I'd start with this true story of triumph and despair. Appoligies as it is a biggy but I've been told it's mildly amusing at the very least.

Quite a while back, a group of us decided to head to Nantgarw (not important if you have no idea where it is) to watch a film with their girlfriends. Many others tagged along for the hell of it (I was one of them third wheels). It was an average day, nice burgers, crappy film (John Tucker Must Die, horrendous), but I digress.

Once the film was over everyone was going to walk back to the station. It being around 9 o'clock and with me and my good friend Kyle needing to get home, we took off ahead of time.

Problem, when we got to the path leading to the station we realised how dark it actually was, and being as it was surrounded by trees and various other woodland, it was a rather scary site, but being the courageous gentlemen we were we trudged onward.

The sounds of crickets made for a very uncomfortable setting, and as we continued their journey, Kyle stopped and said "I think there's a guy up there." Filling our pants we tip-toed up praying that the guy wasn't a smack addict (it's quite a rough area). Kyle put up his fists and I, ever so heroically, hooked onto his jacket hood and prayed it would soon be over. We walked up to face our foe...an old wooden gate.

We finally made it to the train station and checked the times and find that there was no trains running to our destination! We ran to the timetables to double check, and shat ourselves when we found out that the tracks were undergoing repairs, luckily for us however, there was going to be a bus in Ponty (only two stops away), ready to take us home. We quickly jumped on the next train and headed to Ponty, they were worried for the others so texted them to check on them to find.......

They ALL had lifts home!

This pissed us off bigtime as no one had offered them a lift before we left, but we shook it off and continued reading some newspaper they found on the train (there's always one isn't there?) until we reached Ponty. We got off and ran as fast as we could to find.......no buses would be arriving for another 2 hours! We frantically scrambled for enough money for a taxi. Luckily the driver said we could pay him when Kyle got to his stop so everything was fine.

That is until the taxi ride, the driver kept asking us questions (do you like metal? do I know your uncle? etc.) and made several really bad jokes repeatedly nudging Kyle (my last name is Green, he made a gag about saying his was Red).

By now we were shitting ourselves once again and thinking that he was a total lunatic (justified). He even stopped off at his house to give Kyle a bunch of VHS tapes featuring "Metal" bands with such hardcore metalists as Tori Amois. Luckily Kyle got to the stop and paid him, then ran inside. I however was stuck with the guy for another 10 minutes! I did the smart thing and just asked the driver to drop me off by Kyle's where I walked home the rest of the way.

On top of all that, while gloating that I had gotten away with sneaking to the cinema and staying there as late as I did, I posted this story on another site. For whatever reason my mother typed my name into the Google search engine and found the story herself.

Ah childhood...

* Appoligies for any sudden point of view changes in the story as I am adapting it from it's original write-up.
(JC_Green Lacks humour, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 4:06, 6 replies)

The Donkey
In my first year of uni I was put into a flat in the student accommodation with 5 other girls.

One of these girls obviously didn't have much going for her and decided it was her job to make my life a misery because I had a social life.

Many lies were told and I was slowly written off by 3 of my other flatmates to the point of almost giving up uni because I was so miserable.

When a person is mentally disturbed there are signs. Her ways of showing that she was upset were perculiar and included:

Taking an overdose and then ringing a girl who lived downstairs to have a chat and then just at the end she said 'i've just taken an overdose, i'll see you later'.

Opening her window and playing christmas music from october until february.

Getting hold of our flatmates boyfriend's phone numbers and txting them when they didn't arrive home on time or had had a fight.

Labelling everything, i mean even the pots and pans, in the kitchen with her and the three other people who she got on with's initials.

Hounding any man that looked at her twice and then buying them drinks until they were in a comatose state.

Karma is a funny thing.

The four of them moved into a flat together and discovered that this girl was a psycho.

They all told her that in their third year they were going to commute when actually they all live together in a different flat and have had to change their phone numbers.

I am not a petty person but over the course of the year I got into the routine of pissing in any toiletries belonging to them that were left in the bathroom. I remember one of them commenting that their shampoo had never lasted so long before.

On many occasions when i'd had a few too many I came back and found the carefully labelled milk and pissed in that too.

I do not feel bitter any more. The feeling of knowing that they all ingested my piss and are now having to live their lives in fear is better than anything I else I could do.
(beckybuttons, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 2:15, Reply)

I need people to help me deliver some Karma
The owner of the phone number I am about to post just put my friend down on chat sites, and she is fairly pissed off.


Fellow b3tards, take up your phones in arms and release a torrent of dirty SMS and phone calls in her direction.

Thankyou for your time


EDIT: Phone number has been removed due to legality issues as pointed out by Dr. Teeth.
(Maccy Divided by 0 on, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 2:12, 3 replies)

Karma in waiting
A friend of mine is neighbour to a family who wanted to overachieve their children. You know the type.

Well, the son, being a diligent and good pupil, got 5 A* marks at GCSE. He was then told by his form tutor that wasn't good enough and he'd never make the grade at any medical school that he wanted to apply for. No backup from the parents, apparently, and obviously none from the school. I won't name the school but it kind of rhymes with Fatima... Anyone familiar with West London will possibly make the connection.

Anyway, all his dreams were shattered by this twat of a tutor and the ignorance of his parents as to how this comment, and the lack of parental support made him feel.

So he jumped off Chiswick Bridge.

Being a talented rower, he knew that if he jumped off the middle he'd land in the water and not sustain any serious damage. So he jumped 50 ft onto the towpath.

Naturally all possibility of him being a rower is now out of the window, having suffered major fractures to both legs. If you think Eduardo's injury was bad this weekend, multiply it by 4.

Pushy parents and idiotic, delinquent form tutors. Why didn't they speak to him? I wish deep shit on them, and they deserve it. He certainly doesn't.

Time will tell. Also, the reports for that school won't look so good once OFSTED get hold of them. Particularly for one form tutor, whose name I have, and I will submit to OFSTED with the whole situation, but I sadly can't watch as he shits himself as he realises he, as a teacher, has fucked up one of his pupils for life out of pure stupidity. As for the parents, they're pariahs already. Nobody will talk to them.
(Dr Teeth Who asked you, you fuckin' hobbit?, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 1:12, 1 reply)

The joys of childhood - sorry about length
So I had this particularly horrible teacher when I was about 8, one of those ones who was around for corporal punishment and was none-too-happy about the change. So she always had the attitude that the little buggers in her class were all conspiring to fake sickness to get off doing adding and subtracting so each time a child would present with a complaint the following would occur:

10am
Pupil: Miss, I don't feel well.
Teacher: Well, we'll just wait til morning break and see how you are.
Morning break
Pupil: Miss, I really don't feel well.
Teacher: We'll just leave it til lunch and see how you are.
Lunch
Pupil: Sorry miss, but I think I'm sick
Teacher: Ah well, it's nearly hometime now anyway, sure you're fine.

And we would spend the afternoon feeling like general crap while she gave out to us for being distracted from the five times tables by our pain.
So one day I'm feeling like absolute crap, stomach is doing ninety on Space Mountain with some kind of extra dimension thrown in. So we did the usual deal until just before lunch, when the following happened:

Me: Miss, I'm really bad, my tummy feels sick.
Teacher: Well, like I said we'll wait til lunch now sit down.
Me: But miss, I think I need to go home.
Teacher (beginning to shout right in my tiny green-tinged face): I told you to sit down! Now do as I say or you'll stand in the corner!

Now I was a timid little child and didn't usually answer back but as I was feeling so awful that I said I'd take one last crack at it.
Me: But miss-
Teacher: That's it, you go to the corner!!!
Me: Projectile vomit noises

Yes, that's right, I spewed up my breakfast (semi-digested cornflakes and toast) and my morning snack (ham sandwich and apple juice) all over her desk, the blackboard, a few of the desks up the front of the class room and most importantly on her hideous, self-righteous, wart ridden face.

My class mates and I got to sit at the back of the classroom and watch her clean it all up.
The beauty of it was that I got sick because I'd eaten too much for breakfast so that meant that not only was there a lot more vomit than there would have been but also I felt grand after I'd thrown up and so was able to fully enjoy my accomplishment.

Length: About eight rolls of toilet paper and a full bottle of Jif.
(WhitieMcPaleface, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 1:07, 3 replies)

my grandfather
went to Japan, and the people in Nagasaki were horribly rude to him...
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 24 Feb 2008, 1:04, 2 replies)

This may get me in trouble . . .
Bugger it - it's still an apt story for this QOTW.

Mr Legless, as you all have previously read, was married once to a fat gold-digger with a penchant for infidelity (and I'm being diplamatic here).

She took everything in the divorce (funnily enough it was her screwing around that caused it), and made merry while my Legless had a miserable number of years post this.

Where's the karma you ask ??

Well, Joe's now here in Australia with me - we're happy (even if we both work more than the average bear), looking at buying a nice house to live in (given we already have an investment property), and planning a wedding later this year (whenever I can be arsed thinking about flowers, receptions and the long list of people my Mum will want there).

And what of the pig? I believe she's still in the village, still fat, still snotty, and still alone. So (here is where the trouble might be), here is my message to you, you waste of DNA:

Thank you.
Despite treating my Joe like the local bank, and making his life a misery, he still has someone who will happily walk to the end of the earth for him, who cherishes him, looks after and is looked after by him. You didn't break him, though by God you had a good shot at it. You won't be here when we start a family of little ones, or as we watch them grow into good people. You won't know what having a good circle of friends and family feels like. You have no idea what a stable home life built on trust and partnership feels like. There's only so much satisfaction to be gained from nights at the pub with your "gal pals" or from work (I believe you actually had to go and find a job now that your ill-gotten gains have run out - welcome to the real world).

Hurts, does it? Good - it might make up just a little for what you did to Joe.

When you're old(er), your daughter has left home, and you ponder what could have been in your life . . . remember you had a good man who you treated like dirt - and pray your little girl *doesn't* follow your appalling example and end up just as alone.
I don't need to curse you for what you did to Joe - you managed very well to induce divine retribution for the sorry human being you are.

So again, I thank you for being too self-centred, too weak and too stupid to know a good man when you see one.



Mrs Legless
(the *real* one who actually deserves the name)
( Mrs Legless . . . belongs to, well, you know . . . :), Sun 24 Feb 2008, 0:36, 11 replies)

Karma
Not as good as what i've seen on some people's posts. But here goes.

Bully A - Beat me up in school (when the teachers were out/backs turned) now works as a binman to support his 14 year old pregnant girlfriend

Bully B - Bully of the village, got sent down for 3 years for drugs possession.

Bully C - Constantly put me and my friends down, always complained about my service in a nightclub i used to work at. Now he's unemployed with twins to a 15 year old.

Tutor A - Suspended without pay due to inquisition of bullying (after telling me that i'm failing the course, failing the college and my parents and myself as a person. Will also end up living in a box by the time i'm 25)

myself? Well, now i'm 21 doing a college course to get my grades up and hoping to start uni in september. I've got a girlfriend who was THE one that got away (with a 4 year gap of no communication) Even though my confidence has been shot, it's slowly increased and i'm more outgoing than i have been. I've got great friends, supportive family and make sure to rub it in (mentally) whenever i see the people

apologies for length etc

*edit* She's the reason i went back to college, she really has helped me these last 10 months :)
( Jinxy13 is hating the S key, right about now., Sat 23 Feb 2008, 23:57, 3 replies)