Where?
I had just finished my training course, and met with my Resource Manager who was going to tell me what my first assignment would be. I was a little anxious, and I was ready to be told that I would be posted somewhere glamourous like Basingstoke or maybe Reading.

"So, after reviewing what's available, we going to be giving you a role internally"

"Err, OK" replies me, "and where's Turnley?"

How they all laughed.
At me.
(Furious D, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 11:24, Reply)

wierdcokechick
Ah! I see! Another misunderstanding! This is great! It's like life imitating art or something.

Sorry to hear about your rough time. I hope things pick up.
(stusut79, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 11:09, Reply)

My Gran...
When Jurassic park was released my Gran asked me if the Dinosaurs were real.. "no nan" I said "they're done on a computer, to which she replied "I thought not..... what about those Teenage Mutant Turtles?"

Bless her, i could just imagine her sitting in her flat all troubled by the abundance of monsters on TV.
(The Duke of Pontefract, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 10:46, Reply)

inspoken - you should stay that way!
f.y.i;
my baby is now 10wks old. my first child died at 3 months. he was an accident. after he died i got pregnant with troy. dealing with ethyn's death put me in a downward spiral and so the coke. which was not 2nd grade and was definitely more often that the weekends unfortunately. but i've been clean now for three months.

so i will forgive your insinuations of my being a whore, a bad mother and/or a cokehead because i am neither. although i can see how you might have thought that. i guess it was all just a misunderstanding.

oh and stusut - i love your weekly ramblings too, i was just trying to be clever. i still think you're a monkey, but i will respect your right to be one!
(formerly wierdcokechick is now a mom and hasnt touched any '2nd rate charlie' in months., Mon 10 Oct 2005, 10:43, Reply)

Something goes wrong betwixt ears and brain
I'm constantly mishearing things people say, often quite ridiculously. In fact, my other senses confuse stuff as well. However...

Whilst at uni a few years agao a friend of mine was pretty much passed out on our sofa when she said "ugh, honestly pierre!"

This baffled me for a little while until I realised she said "I want to sleep here"
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 10:03, Reply)

employee12754
Sorry. Of course you're not a racist. I clearly MISUNDERSTOOD you.

Oh, the irony.

You made me laugh, though. Cheers, mate. Spades indeed. Oh, mercy.
(stusut79, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 10:00, Reply)

I am Furious!
and this is definitely my last post.

that's it, the end.

pure and simple.


He paraded in front of her like a shaved malamute dancing on it's hind legs in front of a fumbling slowboy.
'That's it Dad, carry on dancing!' cried the Sidney James, the hounds lovable yet surprisingly humanoid offspring. 'Yah, ha ha ha' he guffawed, a laugh that could bring a smile to the face, of the coldest of creatures, i.e Hitler........... and even, to an extent, his lesser known but equally cold brother, Hotler.
With hats on! dancing Hotlers, with Hatlers!
The Sidney James seemed to have lost interest in the dancing and was just pawing an unimpressed looking guinea pig that had wandered in from the nearby farm with a dirty hypodermic needle.
'Sidney want um bongo!' he bellowed.
The dancing hound looked worried and quickened it's ragtime step a little, the hound uttered no words at all, he was a dog.
'SIDNEY WANT UM BONGO!' he repeated, 'DEY DRINK IT IN DEE CONGO!' he added.
The hounds eyes darted from left to right, 'maybe a little music would help' he thought and slipped an LP onto the weathered looking record player and pressed the button to play the music.
As 'The maple leaf rag' oozed from the rickety gramophone the Sidney James's expression seemed to rise.
The room was a vision of peace, quiet and serenity, from the warbling piano music, the constantly spinning strobe lighting, an imbecile Sid James creature barking orders and a shaved spastic dog dancing in the middle of the room with a look of sheer terror in his swollen eyes.
and then it hit me.
I was in the wrong house!
I bid them farewell and returned home to a life of sanity.

Went back for the dog though, ending up using him as an ashtray.
He doesn't dance so much these days.
Just seems to writhe about yelping.
(JinDod, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 9:59, Reply)

Princess Di...
had just died and my gran phoned up my mom. Said she was pretty upset by the whole thing but couldnt understand why Pavarotti was chasing Di on a motorbike.
(El Wapo, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 9:47, Reply)

Yes Monsieur, I can see you are very strong!

My dad once walked into a French restaurant loudly demanding meubles and pointing to his flexing biceps.

He was actually trying to order moules (mussels)… meubles is furniture.
(Minty Hit, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 9:45, Reply)

Another one
Moving to Germany with no previous German experience proved fun,

On my first night in the country we down to a bar to try and scope it out, 3 beers later I was feeling the need to empty my bladder, so off I toddle to the bogs.

I get to the door marked "Toiletten" and go in only to be confronted by two more doors, one marked "Herren", and one "Damen".

Me being useless at languages I just saw "Herren" and associated it with hers, so I stepped forward into "Da Mens" to find a women doing her make up.

Cue me stumbling out apologising in the loudest English I could muster
( Neon Blue Ah ha ha haa! I feel positively capital!, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 8:26, Reply)

I must've been about eight...
and I was waiting in the front of a store while my mother picked something up a few feet away. Bored, I begin looking around and reading things I saw out loud. My mother came tearing across the store bringing hellfire and brimstone with her when she heard me standing in public, practically shouting "Nigger! Nigger!"

There was a map on the wall and I was calling out country names in my boredom; how was an eight-year-old supposed to know how Niger is pronounced?
( madrabbit is fully prepared, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 7:59, Reply)

In the southern USA
On a road-trip through Arkansas, we stopped in a greasy spoon diner for a bite. I ordered a sandwich, and the waitress, in her southern drawl, said "Y'all want super salad with that?"

Not having been in Arkansas before, I wasn't sure what kind of local delicacy she was offering me. But she was cute, so I asked her flirtatiously, "What's so super about it?"

She gave me a withering look, and asked again: "Do y'all want super salad with that?"

I was slightly miffed, but still wasn't going to give up the game. I said "I'll try it, but only if you tell me what makes it super."

She gave me that special over-patient look that's reserved for retarded children, and asked me, with long pauses between words, "Do. you. want. soup. or. salad. with. that."

I didn't think it was THAT funny, but I've never heard the end of it from my mates.
(arvana, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 6:06, Reply)

It's all in the accent
The South African Nissan main dealer has been getting a mixture of fanmail, threats and clothes with wierd patterns all over them for years now.


Turns out they were meant to go to Nelson Mandela.


_/lies
(thisismyclone, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 2:06, Reply)

Inane but short
In the 6th or 7th grade I was inviting someone to my birthday party (I think; maybe she had invited me to her party) and called them at their house. Now, I hate calling people, especially people I've never called before...

Me: Hello?
Woman: Yes?
Me: Is Crystal there?
Woman: Who is this?
Me: Who is this?
Woman: Who are you?!
Me: Who are you?!
One of us: (Hangs up)
.....
My mom: What happened?
Me: Some woman answered Crystal's phone!
Mom: Could it have been her mother?
Me: ...oh.

So my mom had to call Crystal's mother and apologize for me; fortunately things were smoothed out and the party was fun, but God I still hate making phone calls.
(Kitsune-chan I'm not a bunny I'm a grownup girl, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 1:52, Reply)

I'm sorry, I don't quite get this question.

( Malchick, Mon 10 Oct 2005, 0:31, Reply)

misunderstood...
My other half said to me on saturday she'd "kill me if he ever found out i'd cheated on her"

But by a combination of my bad hearing and her poor diction, what i *actually* heard was
"go shag around, do copious amounts of illegal narcotics, have fun this weekend and i'll see you monday"

Oh the hilarity that will ensue when i tell her of my cock up.
(well its not going to suck itself yadda yadda yadda, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 23:54, Reply)

Prontaprint, mate ...
Another phone story from a while back:

A few months after the previous story, a fairly bemused looking chap waltzes in, gives me a cheery smile and whips out his new Nokia camera phone, as sold to him the very same morning by my colleague, who chose that very moment to "have a tidy up in the stockroom".

"Nice phone innit?", he asks.
"Yes, very," I say, "so what can I do for you?"
"Well," he replies, "I've got the hang of most of the stuff ..." He then proceeds to demonstrate various features to me, such as the phonebook, radio, etc "... but there's just one thing I can't work out."
"What's that?" I ask him.
"This is a camera phone, right?"
"Yes ...", I say.
"... so where does the film go?"

It's all I can do at this point not to burst out laughing.

"There IS no film, it's a digital camera", i tell him.
"Oh," he says. "What does that mean?"
So I explain to him the difference between a digital camera and one that uses film.
"Riiiight ..." he says, seeming to grasp the concept now. "... so where do I get it developed?"
(painreliever Lurker extraordinaire, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 23:37, Reply)

You've got my number ... why don't you use it?
I work for a well-known high street mobile phone retailer. No, not those ones.

Anyway, a couple of years ago I sold this guy a new mobile and, after I'd explained all the ins and outs of his chosen handset, he left the shop a happy man. Until about a week later, when he storms back in, slams his shiny new phone down on the counter and starts laying into me with a venomous verbal assault.

"This f***ing phone isn't working!", "You f***ing twat, you delberately sold me a broken phone!", etc. I finally manage to calm him down and assure him that I don't get my kicks by deliberately flogging faulty merchandise to unsuspecting punters, and glean from him that the problem with said phone is that it won't receive any phonecalls.

So I pull his information from the computer, look up the phone number I'd assigned to him and give it a call. The phone springs into life, bleating out the theme from The Great Escape and steadily vibrating it's way across the desk toward my coffee cup. The bloke's astounded.

"How the f*** did you do that?", he asks. Turns out he'd forgotten to tell people his new phone number.
(painreliever Lurker extraordinaire, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 23:22, Reply)

Hungry and stupid
The Polish words for "hungry" and "stupid" are similar if you're crap at the language like I was after just moving here. That is why, upon sitting down to eat with my fiancee's family, I said to her father (scary Polish ex-copper, who at the time was gripping his cutlery in anticipation of the impending feast):

"Are you stupid? I am, but I had a big breakfast so i'm probably not as stupid as you. You look very stupid."

:¬o
(Zapol Unlurked at, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 23:09, Reply)

Ooh, another.. this is me misunderstanding the english langauge, but still
Up until recently (when dragging a camera around at past midnight in sub-zero temperatures for a shoot, chatting to my mate who was helping me) I thought that you were a teenager until you were 21.

It honestly, in 19 years, never once occured to me that the teen in teenager might be related to the teen in ninteen.

I still have my doubts.
( stevierar, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 22:52, Reply)

as...
...an old git i am heartened by the happiness of machinist's story ... it might be the several pints and two large whiskies, it might be my middle aged, er age, but how sweet it is to hear of young luuurve running true

and i don't care if you all think i'm wet

nyyargh



ps: it's the alcohol,but hey
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 22:44, Reply)

Because fourteen is much nicer than twelve
Was out and about the other day and needed something for my camera, so off I popped to Jessops to get what I needed. Whilst there I noticed that they make calendars with your pictures in for each month, I condidered buying a bunch for my friends and myself. In hindsight I should have asked, 'Can I buy these in bulk?' but I asked, 'Is there a limit to how many of these I can have?' to which the sales assistant put on a pained face and began to say slowly,
"Well madam . . .usually there are about . . erm . . . twelve months per year . . .erm . . so . . . erm . . well basically . . . the usual amount is about twelve. Although if you wanted we could arrange for more, for a minimal extra cost."
( Fluffy elephants, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 22:21, Reply)

Just Remembered....
Lots of people have been mentioning how they've mixed up their GFs with their GF's mum and reminded me of this one...

My girlfriend Ami is quite open about our sex life to her friends (and more annoyingly, to my friends)

About a year and a half ago (bearing in mind we were both only 16) my mate rings my mobile

Unfortunately I'm at work and have left my phone at home. So who answers...?


[Mate] Hi Karl are you coming to my house for some beers?
[Girl] This isn't Karl
[Mate] Ami! Stop shagging karl and put him on the phone!

Unfortunately Ami wasn't the one who answered... it was my mum!

[Mum] It's not Ami! I'm karl's Mum!
[Sean] Yeah right! Just because you're fucking Karl's brain out..


....oh dear
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 21:30, Reply)

With hilarious consequences
About two and a half years ago I got married to a wonderful woman and we were having an ace time. Imagine my surprise then when some eighteen months later she turned out to be a psycho paranoid mentalist accusing me of having affairs with men, ugly ones at that. Oh how me and my mates laugh now at the misunderstanding, what with me being up to my nuts in debt and practically an alcoholic. Still, you've got to laugh, eh? Twunt.
No girth or length. She got that.
(bogus official shove it up your cunt, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 20:46, Reply)

hello
there have been many Burger (bugger) king storys, as i worked there once i thought id like to post my own
quite often people come in asking me if there is any BIg Mac's or stuff, these are customers i refer to as blond customers
others come in saying "can i have a burger" seeing as we do 10 or so different burgers, with over 5000 ways of having them (no mayo etc.) im left thinking of these as american customers (or stupid idiots)

maybe not funny but people who used to work in god forsaken customer based "resturants" it would be funny, rule no.1 in places such as these are "customers are idiots" not "customers are alway right"
(weefreemen102, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 20:22, Reply)

Curious Love
Being a classic schoolground nerd, I have no courage. I was also infatuated with a pretty young creature called X. She was totally different to me, athletic, good conversationist (I am, but only around other nerds), good-looking... You get the picture. My friends knew - she did not. So they very kindly went and asked her out for me... without me asking.
However, the only time they had ever heard me mention her, I had only said her name.
So they asked the wrong girl. They did ask someone called X, but a different one. One who I was good friends with at the time, we were a perfect match. We both read the same things, liked the same music, played the same games (sadly not video games - my only qualm!). It had just never occurred to me to get past "just friends".
The next time I saw her, she wrapped her arms around me. We're still happy.(both 15)
(The Machinist, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 20:20, Reply)

Yet more phone confusion
These phone stories remind of me of when I used to live in Spain. I got a wrong phone number call that went like this:

(translated from original Spanish)
Her: Is Antonio there?
Me: There's no Antonio here, you've dialed the wrong number.
Her: No I haven't. Let me speak to Antonio.
Me: I can't. You've got the wrong number.
Her: Stop messing around and put Antonio on.
Me: How am I supposed to put on someone who doesn't live here? There's me and my partner and NO ANTONIO!
(Long pause)
Her: Well, when you see Antonio, tell him we're finished from now on. (hangs up)

This is what happens when you try to tell a Spanish woman that she's wrong.
(lolwhites, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 19:53, Reply)

Toffee
I was at a party, the music was loud, and out of the blue a rather nice young lady starts up a conversation with me. I don't catch what she said at first, so I leaned in a little closer and asked her to repeat. No, I couldn't understand a word she was saying and thought I knew why.

"Are you chewing on a toffee?" I ask her innocently, at which point I'm hastily dragged to the side by a mate.

"She's deaf, you tight bastard"

My first true foot-in-mouth experience, of which many more have followed over the passing years.
( caldini Have you seen my polar bear?, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 19:46, Reply)

Childhood innocence
Scene setting (I will do my best to be brief):
I live in Jersey...we hate Guernsey (our sister isle) and all of its inhabitants (think England-Scotland; England-Germany; Everyone-France and you get the picture).

Every year we have an Channel Island interinsular football tournament with Jersey and Guernsey habitually meeting in the final. This year the final was held in Guernsey. Along with a small but passionate group of supporters and my six year old we make the short trip o'er the water to the game. Our seats in the stadium were right alongside the most rabid home supporters. As passions rose so did terrace chants and, well, abuse.

As I pray that my lad doesn't pick up and repeat any of the amusingly colourful ditties, especially to Mrs RSRD_JSY, he starts to join in with some of my fellow supporters' witty slur "you fat bastard" aimed at the largest and most mentallly unstable skinhead in the Guernsey end. His crystal clear scream of "you fat pasta" manages to stun an entire end of some three to four hundred fans into silence. I didn't have the heart to either correct him or rebuke him for his hooligan tendencies.

I blame the parents!
( number5 has been fighting tramps and losing., Sun 9 Oct 2005, 19:27, Reply)

More phone confusion...
All the talk of phonecalls has reminded me of something.

I had got into a big argument with a friend at school, it was a fairly common occurance and ocasionaly escalated to the level at which backing down becomes far more significant than it should be. (It is also helpful to point out that I was about 14 at the time.)

Anyway, it was fairly near the end of the day and thus I went home still grumbling and not talking to him. However as I cooled down a bit I realised that my reaction was probably OTT and I should at least make steps to apologise. So I phoned up and made a fairly convoluted appology. Once I had finished the voice on the end of the line replied, "So I'll just go and get Ben for you shall I?" as I had spent the last five minutes apologising to his Dad.
(JamesG, Sun 9 Oct 2005, 19:15, Reply)