L'esprit de dix ans
When I was ten the Lotus Elan was brand new. "It's front wheel drive," the car bores of the day said. "It's a disgrace." "It leaks and the lights are noisy," Top Gear whined. "It's a fucking rip-off" said everyone else, gripped by the Major recession and unwilling to give Lotus' GM overlords the twenty grand they were charging for this two-seater 1.6 litre plastic toy.

But I knew differently. I had a pirate copy of Lotus Challenge (incidentally still runs on DOSbox) and I was completely in love with the best car ever made by anyone. "One day," I said to myself, typing in the 9-letter race track generator codes (I recall TESTICLES was quite a good one), "one day I will be driving a real one of these, and it will be made of actual plastic and not just pixels."

Twenty years later, an amount of money came my way. Not so small that I spunked it in the pub immediately, but equally not large enough to consider my investment opportunities. It was a kind of "second hand car" amount of money and, on a whim I stuck "convertible" into Autotrader. The top result? A racing green Lotus Elan.

A week later, I bought the best car ever made by anyone for cash from a guy in Somerset and drove off into the pouring March rain with the biggest grin my face could accommodate. "It will do," the seller had assured me, "140 on the bypass." No such luck to be had that day however as it had barely warmed up before the Check Engine light came on. Undeterred, I ploughed through hail, sleet and torrential rain which appeared to be achieving ingress through every possible joint, seal and orifice in the car body. By the time I got back to London I was sitting in a puddle and the door trim glue had dissolved so much that a piece of crap 1990s carpet was lying on my knee.

The car had been neglected, honestly. The past three MOTs showed an average of just six miles per year - i.e. driving to the MOT garage and back - and bringing it back to half decent condition sucked up a lot of work and money. It needed tyres, an oil change, new roof seals and a new flip-up light control box. And interior lights. And a timing sensor. Then it burst a coolant hose, so I thought I'd up my game and replace the whole set. Then the petrol tank began leaking and I had to get a garage to remove half the rear suspension so we could lower the thing out and weld the crack in it shut.

In the end, I spent almost half again on top of the purchase price. I quickly realised what an awful mistake I'd made but I have an addictive and stubborn personality and found myself unable to avoid chasing my poor investment to its sorry conclusion. Every weekend when I woke to find it wasn't raining I would cancel whatever plans I had and work on the fucking car.

Some months after I bought it, in the Summer, I was changing the brake pads. I had jacked up the front of the car to get at the hubs and was obscured from the pavement by nature of having my head stuck in the wheel well. A bolt wouldn't let go and, in a moment of frustrated existential crisis, I found myself covered in toxic brake dust, hot, sweaty, broke and pissed off. This wasn't I'd had in mind all those years ago when I was typing TESTICLES into my Dad's PC. This was bullshit.

I glanced up for a moment and saw a young kid of about ten riding a scooter down the pavement, followed by his Mum and a push chair. When he drew level with the Lotus he stopped and stared at it. I could just see him through the window but he wasn't looking at me. Instead, he looked at the flip up lights and the low-slung chassis. He took in the shiny wheels and the classic yellow badge on the steering wheel. He didn't see the flawed electrics or the rusty wishbones, or the bearings that were probably on the way out, or the crippling fuel consumption. He saw the car for what it was meant to be. As his mother caught up with him he turned and pointed.

"That is a bangin' car, Mum!"

Made my fucking year.
( pineapplecharm D d M Y, H:i, Mon 27 Jan 2014, 13:46, 36 replies)

Overhearing conversations
I was staying in a swanky hotel last night with work and took the opportunity to do a little people watching. It looked like they were setting up for some kind of a chess championship at the weekend and I couldn't help listening in on what turned out to be bunch of chess grand masters bragging about their games in the hotel lobby.

I had a moment of pure joy when I realised how long it had been since I had seen chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.
( buffet_the_appetite_slayer ٩(●̮̃•)۶ jacked in to the ICE on, Fri 24 Jan 2014, 9:12, 7 replies)

Warning! May contain children! Warning!
Roasted peas.

Background:
The wife and I decided some years ago that we didn't want to do the baby thing but still wanted a family, so we decided to adopt. The whole process is a bit of a nightmare is actively designed to put you off (men are considered kiddie-fiddlers until they can prove otherwise) and it can take some time.
So after 18 months of Interesting Times we get to meet the two boys (Bert & Ernie, ages 5 and 3) and they move in, it sounds simple but trust me it is not. That was a year ago and it's been interesting... We always knew it would be as adoptive kids usually come bundled with a whole heap of software problems.

One of weird things about adopting is that you don't really know much about the kids before they come to you, no idea about what they've done, no clue about their favourite films etc. So it can be a bit of a muddle as you work out what works and what doesn't. You sometimes assume things about their experiences and now and again you get caught out, for instance when my wife and I took them to a fireworks night. Bert the eldest thought it was the best thing in the world, he'd never seen fireworks before. At the time he was 5 years old.
5 years old and had never seen fireworks, FFS.

Okay, onto the daft bit.
The Main Story:
So we went to Bristol recently, parked the car in a multi-story, down the stairs, look around, food, look at boats, had a nice day etc.
Time to go back to the car.
Get in lift, off we go, then get out. And Ernie (the youngest) stops.
Me: What's up, kiddo?
Ernie: ..... (looking around)
It's different.
Me: Eh?
Ernie: It's different Dad! It's magic!!! (lot's of smiling)
Me to the wife: Eh?
Wife: He's never been in a lift before...
Me: Ohhhhh....

The little fella now thinks lifts are the best, bless him.
Note. This story is from a few years ago and he now doesn't think lifts are magical but he does take every opportunity to go in one.
(SpangoTheWonderBadger is brewing beer, Tue 28 Jan 2014, 16:32, 13 replies)

I saw a cyclist come up to a junction and he couldn't get his feet out of the pedal clips and fell over.

( Peej, Thu 23 Jan 2014, 23:07, 12 replies)

Simple Pleasures
Being a father of two - the oldest who just had his 3rd birthday - I'm pretty much either juggling kids, or at work these days with no real time to do anything "for me".

It's gotten so bad that I've gone a good while since I've even gotten a hair cut. Months have passed. Between the wild top and the barely managed beard - I've resembled a mountain man for a while now. Not my best look.

Yesterday I wrapped up my work duties by lunch (a minor miracle), headed home to help with the kids and realized... I actually had a moment where I wasn't *needed* and could take care of myself.

I stopped at my favorite deli, picked up a strip steak on a sub bun with fresh lettuce, and while trying not to bliss out while driving and eating at the same time - headed by a barber from my youth - one I hadn't visited since 3 house moves and over 10 years ago.

Not only did the owner remember me - including my name, my brother's and my father's name, what we all did for a living, and our relationships and habits as of the last time we talked - the beautiful young lady who cut my hair performed a head massage mid way through the process that made me want to propose on the spot. I just couldn't quite figure out how to word properly "would you and your son like to move in with my wife and kids? I'm sure it'd work out..."

Maybe next time =) It was a really nice afternoon though, one that was deeply needed and it was only made sweeter by coming home to my family afterward - still early and being greeted by smiling and running little ones all wanting hugs.

A small break is nice, but there's really no where else I want to be =)
( Allisade would love to hear from you, Thu 23 Jan 2014, 19:49, 6 replies)

Ok, due to popular demand heres little dit for you.
Apologies in advance for length.

Right, so last Friday I had to go for a scope to check and see if my Crohn's had become active again as I was noticing some symptoms that usually would indicate active disease.

So to make it all lovely, you can opt for sedation, I wasn't going to bother as he wasn't putting it all the way in (ahh thank you). My doctor came to visit me in the prep room and asked why I didn't want the sedation and I said well I fancy a beer and I know your not meant to drink after sedation. "Well what do you mean by a beer?" He's seen me drink before when he bumped into me in the gay pub my dad used to own (wholeeee other story). Well only a coupley beers and a curry, so he said just to take it as I had already had a few pints and bare that in mind. So lovely I get to get off my tits on Midazolan and have a few beers.

So sedation in, warm fuzzy feeling, loverly jubbly. So scope goes in, the first or inch or two is a little inflamed. I am now my own discovery channel special watching last nights dinner on a TV. I had no bowel prep so there was a fair bit of 2 way traffic for what of a better word, it was like watching Liam Neeson in Taken when he drives against traffic the wrong way. My doctor was like Louis Hamilton with this scope with smooth maneuvers round behemoth bum logs.

Now fantastically there is no active disease, only local irritation where basically I've put on a bit of weight and its irritating where the intestine passes through my abdomen.

I can't express the relief I felt when he told me and I saw that there was no active disease I nearly cried. I'm rocking on for 2 and a half years in remission now. Losing my bumole was a small price to pay for getting my life back.
(bumless The man with the hole in the middle, Mon 27 Jan 2014, 13:14, 20 replies)

Meow
This morning when I woke up, I was, as usual, underneath the blanket, my head on the pillow. My boyfriend had gone to work hours ago, so I rolled over expecting to see nobody in bed next to me. Instead, I encountered my fluffy kitten, underneath the covers, with her head on my pillow.
(BrainSurgerysFun, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 2:10, 5 replies)

Why are parents incapable of understanding that...
...no-one gives a shit?

Not even other parents; they're just pretending to give a shit, so when it's their turn to bollock on about their own kids, the other parents will also pretend to give a shit.

All the parents involved secretly think that their kids are the best at everything, and that everyone elses kids are ugly little shits that should fuck off... and they're all half correct.

Fact is, squeezing out another useless human is really easy to do... the only thing you need is 9 months, and a blasé attitude to contraception. Anyone who thinks they're special for having a kid, needs to understand that they are genetically programmed to do exactly that regardless of the wisdom of doing so; so, congratulations for following a deterministic behaviour pattern, programmed into you before birth, but please remember that you've removed yourself from the pool of interesting humans, and you are now, by choice, in the mundane category of "parent of your own tedious little moment of joy".
(eViLegion Chief Commissioner of the Scottish Lunacy Board, Tue 28 Jan 2014, 12:35, 55 replies)

The 'Red Arrow' manoeuvre.
Defined as, that moment, when being third in line at the traffic lights at a crossroad; the first car goes left, the second car goes right, and your destination lies straight on.
Sometimes I've been known to change my journey just to enjoy this phenomenon, but, not ten minutes ago, it happened for real. I had to imagine smoke pouring out the back of the car (just been to the mechanic, so I wouldn't have been entirely surprised!) and dramatic music playing as I drove, without deviation, straight across the junction as the other cars peeled off to either side.

Works even better when I'm on the bike, the sound effect in that instance is peeyow as I fly like a bullet from the impromptu display.
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Mon 27 Jan 2014, 13:32, 2 replies)

Little moments of Joy
I'm one of the spaktards that works unbelievable hours for shit pay, only to be told by Cameron that my pay has gone up (it hasn't, the cnut has frozen it, so I won't even get my 1% I was promised).
Anyway, caring for those in the direst need has other rewards:
1. A patient taking a breath after "being down" for 20 minutes.
2. A patient taking it's first breath.
3. A patient taking their last breath, now their suffering is over.
So stuff your 1% Cameron, up your tight wrinkly sphincter, because all of the above are worth more than your sickening corrupt 11% pay increase you've awarded yourselves!
CNUT!
(stygof, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 22:34, 88 replies)

My cat came back from the dead!!
Well, he disappeared and despite knocking on doors, putting out flyers etc we couldn't find him.

Then he was found splattered on a nearby road, so I scraped him up and had him cremated…

Two days later he strolled in, a little thin but healthy. We think he'd been accidentally shut in a shed or garage.

I was about to get into the shower but instead tore downstairs naked and opened a can of cat food double-quick, as per his peremptory instructions.

Dunno whose cat we cremated. Nobody's come forward to claim it. It was a big strapping well-fed neutered tom like Tim. Somebody must be missing it.

But hey, Tim came back!
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 21:12, 5 replies)

All these moments will be lost, like tears in rain

There is a night in the mid 1990s which probably qualifies as the mythical Best Night Of My Life. It involved a summer night, a newly-met young lady, music, countryside, heroic quantities of drugs, nudity, watching the sunrise, llamas, good friends, motorcycles... in fact, pretty much all of the good things in life. Even though it is now long ago, and the relationship that started that night eventually imploded spectacularly, it remains a cherished memory.

One day, many years after, I was walking down the street, when a total stranger stopped and said "Hey - I know you. I've got photos of you at a free party, ages ago." It turned out that he'd been taking pictures that night, and had recognised me from some of them. He was even kind enough to give them to me, which was a joyful moment as I had no idea that any pictures of the night even existed.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 24 Jan 2014, 13:14, 7 replies)

You know that girl in Eastenders with the dark hair that kept getting beaten up by her husband about 10 years ago?
Well she was the one that originally came up with one of the classic British TV detectives.

Only she wrote the character to be a Russian detective, but because her handwriting's terrible, it's easy to confuse her Ls and her Ss.

That's right!

Little Mo meant "Sovejoy".



Now - kiss me with your mouth.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 24 Jan 2014, 12:06, 8 replies)

Beliebe
Watching Justin Bieber taking his first steps on the road to 'a life cut tragically short' has made my day.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Thu 23 Jan 2014, 21:07, 4 replies)

Speed bump
The road near my house is straight and flat with a 50km/30mph speed limit. It's tempting to speed, but I know that there are kids on bikes, walkers, dogs, rabbits, pheasants and even sometimes deer. Last night there was a BMW right up my exhaust pipe, obviously frustrated. Eventually he'd had enough and overtook me, just as we got to a speed bump. He'd accelerated to go past me, so hit the bump with a bang and bounced over it. As he sped off into the distance a big chunk of something fell of his car, and I could see sparks flying as something metallic dragged along the road behind me. Poetic justic, I thought.
(Smale is stuffed, Thu 30 Jan 2014, 8:18, 9 replies)

PROTIP: nobody else gives a fuck about your kids you bunch of meaningless pricks.

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Sat 25 Jan 2014, 16:35, 8 replies)

Recently
I had been eggbound for a few days. Finally things were beginning to move. And after 20 minutes grunting and sweating, thinking I might have to tie a rope around it and pull it out, my sphincter dilated and out it slid gracefully like a ship being launched.
To add to the joy, I had Princess Anne standing by to smash a bottle of champagne against it.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 24 Jan 2014, 11:12, 1 reply)

I had a shit in the work toilet the other day
and after 3 squeezes I was done. I stood up ready to wipe and glanced back at the bowl. I'd plopped 2 small circular poos and a turd that stretched across the bottom of the pan and somehow they had naturally arranged themselves into the shape of a smiley ACEEEEEED face.

It's moments like these that make me feel glad to be alive.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 24 Jan 2014, 9:06, 5 replies)

infant words
I work away from home a lot. I've been away for the last 6 days. I came home today to my little baby daughter (17 months) say "Dada" as a walked in the door.

The little moment of joy is not from her saying "Dada", she's been saying it for ages. It's the pain on my wife's face at the fact she still can't say Mama
(Fridgy, Fri 24 Jan 2014, 0:12, 1 reply)

When I'm scratching my arse,
And I finally get the pointiest bit of my fingernail to intersect with the itchiest bit of my piles.
(eViLegion Chief Commissioner of the Scottish Lunacy Board, Thu 23 Jan 2014, 21:26, Reply)

There's an acerbic old dear who lives on my road.
An absolute bigoted gobshite of the highest order who moans at anyone about anything. Putting the wheelie bins out at night for collection in the morning? You better do it fucking quietly, or she'll hurl abuse from the window she's perched at gawping out of all night.

Today she tripped over her yappy little shit of a dog's lead in the middle of the street and it sounded like she hurt herself.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't let out an involuntary chuckle and smiled.
(FartThroughAWalkieTalkie wished you were dead in ditch on, Thu 23 Jan 2014, 20:32, 2 replies)

SOCKS
I maintain that there is no better non-sexual feeling than coming in from the cold and wet, discarding your besodden articles and slipping on a pair of clean, dry socks - it's just fucking marvellous.

Thank fuck I discovered masturbation, otherwise I'd just be doing that all day long instead I mean no I don't masturbate all day...
(Rollerbone The sauciest opossum, Tue 28 Jan 2014, 15:34, 7 replies)

Charming Chav
I was walking back from work in the rain on a Saturday, in a foul mood due to the combination of a crap day, soaked shoes and having to work during the weekend.

Suddenly a track-suited and hoodied chav walking towards me poked his emaciated and pale face under the edge of my broken umbrella and I stiffened, expecting to be called a cunt, grabbed by the chest, offered drugs, told to go back to my own country or threatened with rape (all of which has happened before with this type).

Instead, he looked deep into my eyes, murmured 'you're beautiful' and was gone.

He must have been on some very good drugs or his vision was blurred by the rain as my thunderous face and bird's nest of rain-frizzed hair would not have made me any more of an oil-painting than I am at the best of times but still, my day suddenly became a lot brighter.
(snakelady, Sun 26 Jan 2014, 9:08, 4 replies)

birth of my baby son a week ago
Life is good
( zulu eh?, Thu 23 Jan 2014, 22:18, 13 replies)

Sorry, I'm so emotionally crippled and/or autistic that I can only find joy in other people's misfortune and suffering.
Star Wars.
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Thu 23 Jan 2014, 21:02, 3 replies)

Two nights ago...
As I switched off the light and we snuggled down under the covers, my husband reached over to gently and lovingly stroke my face.

However, as it was pitch black, he instead gently and lovingly... poked me in the eye.

It didn't hurt, but something in the surreal nature of it all has had me giggling ever since. Somehow he made a poke in the eye a gesture of love.
( e.m.m.y. foxtrot uniform charlie kilo india tango, Thu 23 Jan 2014, 15:03, 11 replies)

Random Cat Rota
I live in a fairly new-built estate near a rail station and as such as lot of my neighbours commute

When not at work on a weekday I leave my patio doors open and eventually a cat always arrives (they get bored, I think, and any warm room is inviting...) Thing is, it seems to be a different cat every time. I have photos of 5 or 6 different ones asleep on my desk or lap. Maybe they have a rota.
(Carpe Cyprinidae, Thu 23 Jan 2014, 14:32, 3 replies)

Popping bubblewrap.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 28 Jan 2014, 16:36, 4 replies)

Nestlé's supermarket ice cream may be shit, but it was the best fucking scoop I ever had.
Finally able to visit me after weeks in hospital, my 4½-year-old daughter insisted on emptying her penny purse to buy an ice cream to share with Papa. I wasn't even supposed to be eating yet. I had chocolate chocolate chip, she had strawberry. We shared (she insisted on that, too).
(ReallyEvilCanine looks like an upside-down question mark with hair, Mon 27 Jan 2014, 13:51, Reply)

It was in the middle of Oman.
I was driving home from Salalah, which took me right across the middle of the desert where it's as flat and bleak as Keira Knightly's chest. Straight road for miles and nothing to see other than the occasional dust devil.

Out in the middle of nothing a bunch of cars were pulled off onto the sand. About a dozen young guys were off a couple hundred feet into the desert playing soccer. As I passed half of them raised their arms in victory.

I'm not sure who enjoyed it more, them scoring a goal or me witnessing a random moment of exuberance.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Sun 26 Jan 2014, 11:46, 2 replies)