Sappy Story about my Savior Sister
When I graduated college I couldn't find any work with my degree in English Literature(shocking). I was unemployeed with my girlfriend paying the rent for about nine months. About a month after my dad died (mom died while I was in high school), our aparment burned down because a neighbor left their fireplace unwatched. We had no insurance, so we lost everything, she moved in with her parents and I had nowhere to go.

My sister living two thousand miles away (one of ten siblings I might add) was the only person who would take me in. It was a huge risk for her, I was totally broke, hadn't worked in months. I had nothing, and still she bought me a plane ticket and gave me a bed.

After she took me in everything turned around. Now I have an awesome job, a nicer apartment, and was able to bring my girlfriend out here to support her for a little while.

I love my sister very much, I owe her everything and she has never asked for anything in return.
(PaulBatman, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 5:55, Reply)

Mutual kindness
My ex, despite everything, is still my friend. And I'm still hers. So I guess that evens out.

And my mate, who I barely knew at the time, introduced me to clubbing and loads of cool people and changed my life. And paid for my first night out. What a guy!

And I owe my parents tons of money, and they haven't said a word. Awesome.

First post ever. Woo!
(idle insomniac enjoys listening to Sigur Rós at stupid hours, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 3:49, Reply)

Clear winner for me
In Australia - when you're in year 11 (17 yrs old) we have this thing called the Debutaunte ball. It's a very archaic tradition - basically - it's introducing women to society so they can find a husband and have lots of sex and babies and be set up for life.

And well I asked several guys (it's girl's choice - if a guy says no to one girl he's not allowed to say yes to another) and all of them said no. And when one of my STRAIGHT friends asked one of the guys - he said yes immediately. He doesn't even like her that much I don't think.
Now - being the ONLY out and proud lesbian at my school - given the evidence above - I was fairly sure that I was being turned down because the guys all know they won't get a chance of getting into my knickers at the end of the night.

And I was feeling quite depressed and upset and like I was an ugly cow (I'm not - I just felt like I was), and my best friend (who is lovely sweet girl) said she'd take me to the deb.

And we discovered that if you oh so discretely drop words like "discrimination" and "Board of Equal Opportunity" to the principal and Debutaunte committee, they become very ... shall we say... easy to manipulate??

And we went through all that and then her mum said she couldn't go cos she didn't want her daughter being called a dyke when she isn't one.
Bollocks.

But yeah. I love my best friend. She is the best.

And yes - she's very very straight. As in bonking her bf every opportunity she gets, straight.
(Poppet some assembly required., Fri 3 Oct 2008, 3:03, 7 replies)

Gary Gygax
made it way easier for me to work polearms into the conversation.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 3:01, 6 replies)

Didn't even know it
when I was in university many moons ago, I spent most of my time drinking/chasing women/generally being a goof. My grades showed it. Got my bachelor's degree in Materials Engineering in 1985 and was utterly unable to land a job. I was working for minimum wage at a hobby shop at the time...we were buying goods from a distributor in Georgia. The owner of the distributor was a retired orthopaedic surgeon who had to retire when he developed arthritis in his hands. Well, over the course of a year he managed to talk me into going back to uni and getting a business degree. But I had no idea I was being talked into it. This time I didn't drink and fuck off too much, got my degree with good grades. And after I did that, he told me that he'd done this several times with young people that seemed to have gotten a bit lost.

I never met the guy and have lost track of him. But he really pushed me into getting my life together and for that I'm eternally grateful. Thanks Gordon, wherever the hell you may be now...
( HairyTwatter certified eel and sodium salesman, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 2:54, Reply)

And another thing...
Years ago I was living with my girlfriend (a situation I thankfully have remedied) when a friend of hers dropped over with her new boyfriend.
We had a couple of beers while the girls caught up, chatted about music, realised we had a lot of similar albums and tastes in bands and he mentioned Nirvana.
"Don't know them," I confessed.
"WTF?" He exclaims. "Right, wait here!"
He walks out, gets in his car, drives to the nearest CD shop, buys Bleach and Nevermind (which had come out that week) and drives back.
"Here, you should have these."
( difficultchild, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 2:47, 2 replies)

I was in Samaria recently.
My God, what a bunch of selfish arseholes.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 2:46, 2 replies)

Slipped Discs
Last year I slipped 2 discs in my back, which in turn lead to some very painful sciatica. If anyone has had it - you know my pain. I also had numbness from my left ankle down.

So surgery was needed. The surgeon even said one of the discs was one of the worst he has ever seen, very reassuring!!

As I was living overseas at the time, I had no family to help me.

So....

Kirsty a very good friend of mine, nursed me for 6 weeks straight, including cooking, cleaning and generally helping out.

Im forever in her debt.

Thanks Kirst.
(Slatts If you cant remember it didnt happen, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 2:46, 2 replies)

Scary, but nice...
Any Australian will understand the magnitude of my good fortune in this, but for those living elsewhere, understand this: Adelaide, in South Australia, is the serial killer and sex crime capitol of the country. About a dozen unexplained deaths of young kids are still open cases and we're talking weird shit here, kids cut up and stuffed in suitcases, parts sewn back with blue wool etc etc. Dozens more kids, usually boys, have been drugged and raped etc etc. It's so endemic that when the series Dexter launched down here, they made a joke promo about him flying to Adelaide for a holiday...
Anyhoo, on to the story.
When the temperature rises over 100C in Adelaide, they let the kids out of school early.
So one day when I'm about 7 years old I'm sitting at my desk as a primary school when suddenly the bell goes off. It's too hot to work, go home!
We all file out, parents arrive to collect their kids and everyone heads off to either the beach, a pool or at the very least an icecream in the shade.
Except me.
Everyone else disappears one by one until I'm alone, standing there burning up, no mum in sight and crying.
And a car pulls up.
"Has your mum forgotten you little boy?" asks the stranger leaning out the window.
"Yes."
"And nobody's coming to get you?"
"No"
"Would you like a lift home then?
"Yes."
And so I, ignoring every bit of advice I'd ever been given, get in the car.
And the stranger drives me home.
Even better, when we get there, Mum's in the pool sipping a glass of wine with her friends as this completely random punter walks down the side path with me, gives her a disgusted shake of the head, then walks off.
I wish I knew who it was so I could thank them for a) not cutting me up into little bits and b) giving me more than three decades of ammunition for torturing my mum. Whenever anything goes wrong I just remind her of that day and she IMMEDIATELY backs down.
( difficultchild, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 2:40, 5 replies)

trains and taxis
after a long day in Newcastle i decided to go home to see my parents who lived in alnwick. long story short i missed the train and my mum was picking me up in Morpeth. cue the solicitor who also missed the train telling me that him and his mate where getting a taxi and i could hop in and get a free ride to Morpeth! when we reached our destination the fare was well over thirty quid!

thank you martin the solicitor who gave me one of the best things anyone has ever done for me!
(das1joker, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 1:46, 1 reply)

Nice in thought, if not in deed.
I met my first true love at the age of 19. I was at college and she, two years younger than I, was edging towards completing her A Levels.

We completed our respective courses and headed off to Uni together; this was the real thing and we weren't willing to compromise our love for something so unimportant as our choice of university or course, such was our youthful naivety.

Throughout our first year, when normal people are exploring their promiscuity and other freshers bodies, we lovingly lived in one another's pockets, forsaking the chance to ruin bedposts with countless notches; we had each other and needed nothing else.

By the time the second year rolled around our interests had begun to diversify; my already well established love affair with cannabis deepened, while she, well, to be honest I have no idea what she was into. For all I know she could have been sleeping with half the campus, and who could blame her, I spent that much time completely, uselessly stoned that I was about as much good as a chocolate teapot.

Suffice to say we ultimately drifted apart, and when the time came to have 'the talk' neither of us really seemed to care.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Let's go back about 6 months, to an evening in the student union bar. I chanced upon an old school friend, who just happened to be visiting a friend of my girlfriend. It was a complete coincidence all round, but a happy and welcome one all the same.

Moving in similar circles I started to see my old school chum fairly often; he lived nearby and would visit anyone who'd speak to him as long as he could find people who'd speak to him. He was a bit of a wide boy and we had very little in common, but he would get hold of good, cheap weed, so, being the poor yet eager stoner I was, I found myself willing to put our differences aside and be one of those who would regularly speak to him.

Anyway, enough background... he had no idea of the inevitable parting of ways between me and the missus, it must have slipped my slightly forgetful mind somehow. So when, at some party or other, he happened to witness some fella doing his best to chew her face off, he was far from pleased, to say the least.

The tale that reached me was that this poor, unsuspecting lad, who had done absolutely nothing wrong, was quite surprised to receive a good old fashioned roughing up from an angry mockney wide boy.

Of course I later pointed out the error of his ways, all the while highlighting my appreciation for his attempts to defend my honour.

"Dahn't facking warry abaaat it" he garbled, "he was a facking cahnt anyway!"

Cheers mate, it was nice of you to give some poor "cahnt" a hard time, just for trying to get his nuts wet with a single and pretty girl. A single, pretty girl I'd spectacularly failed to retain the requisite level of interest in.

Nice in thought, if not in deed.
( Moey, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 1:07, Reply)

Tourist Information Kindness
Things weren't going well at work, and after finally having a leave request approved, I decided to head off to the lake district for a little camping on my own. I needed 'Time and Space' to clear my head, read, wander, pootle about in hire boats, swim in lakes*, sleep; and generally postpone the looming breakdown.

This was a camping trip with a lot of firsts - first time camping solo, first time camping in this area, first time camping without a car to take the strain. So due to inexperience and the general rushed nature of the planning, I had only researched public transport to the vicinity of the campsite I was booked into. It was thus that I found myself in Coniston Tourist Information Centre, enquiring about buses (the one I'd arrived on was happily waiting outside for me in case his onward route would take me there; a lovely gesture in itself but not the memory that stuck. He had few passengers that trip, myself being the only one going all the way**, so we'd been chatting when it was safe to. I guess I've usually had good fortune with public transport staff.).

Now, due to cutbacks in government funding, it had looked a while ago as if Coniston TIC would have to close down (along with a whole raft of others nearby - I mean which eejit thought you wouldn't have many tourists in the lake district FFS!). It was now being run by dedicated local volunteers, which probably accounts for the exceptional service you usually only seem to get from people giving their time for free.

One of the ladies within quickly advised me that the bus waiting was not going the right way (so I could pop out, thank him, and let him proceed with minimal delay). Another bus route would take me about halfway there but wouldn't arrive for a long while. So long that I calculated it would be quicker for me to walk (it wasn't an exceptional distance, but I was hauling a full pack with stove, food, sleeping bag, mat and a tent; so I didn't fancy the idea in the sunny weather).

However, she said she was driving to somewhere near the campsite in five minutes, to make arrangements for the arts festival beginning tommorrow, and would I like a lift? I gratefully accepted, and soon we were zipping off towards our mutual destination. She dropped me off at her destination, fortuitously just five metres from the campsite office.

So I was able to skip a two kilometre hike in the summer heat with a heavy load, unsure of my route and destination, that would have left me hot, sweaty, tired and wanting a shower, and with an unfamiliar tent to set up before any comfort. I realise that if they'd been paid staff there might have been hefty insurance/liability problems with giving lifts, but even volunteers would have had just cause not to offer. Naturally, I made sure to make a generous contribution (for a shop assistant anyway) towards the TIC's upkeep, when I popped in later that week.

* yes, it was that warm.
** no sniggering at the back!
(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 1:03, 2 replies)

Random acts of kindness
if you've read 'join me' by danny wallce then you'll have a good idea of my story...
Every Friday i do one random nice thing for someone, it can be as little as holding a door open or buying someone a drink in a pub(just because they happen to have an empty glass at the time). I do other things too, it usually depend son the moment.
It just goes to show that giving a pack of cookies to a complete stranger because they looked a little bit sad, or moody, is quite awesome...although the looks on their faces can be odd.
(Just Harry What should I put here?, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 0:34, 8 replies)

When I was about
16, I worked in a small corner shop, one of the 'Happy Shopper' chains, one day a 20something year old came in and bought an obscene amount of beer and wine, and asked me if I could help carry it to his car. I did, of course. After dumping it into the back, he turned round and gave me £3! "Imagine it as me buying you a pint to say cheers, which I would do, apart from we're in a car park and you're underage" said the kind sir.

To think of it he could probably have worded the sentence better, but it totally made my day :) Was the most unexpected fluffyness I think I've encountered to date.

Aww it's made me all happy just thinking about it. The world is fluffy again :)
(MunchMyBalloons, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 0:07, Reply)

Daniel Kitson once said...
..."have you ever found yourself performing a genuinely selfless, noble deed, and thought 'if ONLY there was some way other people could find out about this?'"

Well here's my chance.

I was just 18, and at my first proper gig with my first proper friends - The Offspring at Brixton Academy (oh, shut up - I was young and they're a fun band, you jaded purists)

I was having the time of my life; my first proper mosh pit with 1000's of rockers; which was something of a novelty, coming from a small town where almost everyone my age was into whatever crummy loop-fest genre came between rave and drum and bass. Dj Hype and the like.

At about the 4th/5th song, I spotted a young black girl who didn't look quite right... i couldn't see her irises. After a few seconds i realised she was barely conscious, and that the only reason she was upright at all was because there wasn't the room to fall sideways. She was being jostled around like a ragdoll without the room to inhale properly and with no way out. She HAD to get out of there before a gap formed to let her fall and be trampled.

I pushed & shoved my way through the crowd to get to her, locked my arms in a protective hoop around her midriff, and with no small effort pulled her out of the pit towards the sides; kept her upright and repeated the panicked mantra "hey... are you ok? hello?" until she finally got enough air to nod and say thanks. I smiled, nodded and went back into the pit... only to spot a skinny young white guy in pretty much the same predicament, though at least compos-mentis enough to be looking around desperately. I shoved my way through, locked my arms around him again and pulled him back, pissing off no small amount of people as I barged them out of the way.

I got a breathless "thanks, man", nodded, smiled, and turned around to enjoy the rest of the gig... and saw a skinny white girl stuck in the sweaty, barge-y, inescapable (if you're of normal build) hellhole that is most moshpits.

Oh, FFS. I did the same act again, and again a few minutes later... and again, and again. I couldn't enjoy the rest of the gig. I spent the entire time worrying, fretting, and on the lookout for my fellow rockers in peril. I don't know how many people I pulled out of that place, but somewhere between 20 and 30. Nobody else seemed to care about anything but getting as near to the stage as possible.

Eventually I was knackered and bruised and sweaty and my feet were sore top and botton and I just couldn't cope with the worry anymore... I went to the foyer for a ciggy, and just waited for the gig to end. When I eventually met up with them, all my friends were so happy and excited to have seen such an awesome gig that I didn't dare mention I'd spent almost the whole time worried that people were about to die, in case I killed the buzz.

And when i DID tell people about it a day or two later, they gave me an odd look - not sure whether to congratulate me or tell me to shut up for boasting.

I was (probably) the only one of 4000 people to have given more of a shit about random strangers than about seeing one of my favourite bands at the time. I had a shit time; not dancing, not listening, not enjoying myself, but going through a lot of physical exertion, toe-stomps and elbows to the ribs and head just for the sake of not wanting to see people I'd never see again getting hurt.

In the following week's Kerrang I got a thank-you in the letters page (at least, i assume it was for me) which made me happy.

I realised that being nice and helping others wasn't at all fun and has no rewards: even telling people about it makes you look a bit of a turd for boasting. But there is a strange sense of satisfaction that comes with it.


Anyway... 10 years on, and I listen to jazz and hip-hop now. Much calmer gigs.
(nobuttocks last besmirched the internet on, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 23:54, 12 replies)

An attempted nice thing
I wouldn't normally post a story about something I did for someone else because I think it's a bit...showy offy I guess. But I think this one is ok, as I completely fucked it up and people seem to enjoy my various misfortunes.

Once again this story involves a girl. She was a bit older than me, lived in Cornwall, taught surfing at Fat Willy's in the summer and did modelling work in the winter. She was absolutely loaded and lived an utterly ideal lifestyle. We got on very, very well in our various written and textual correspondence and we grew pretty close.

Anyway, one day I'd gotten back home from a date that, for once, had gone swimmingly. I happen to see her online and proceed to tell her about the great day I'd just had. She got rather huffy and then revealed that she had feelings for me. To say my flabber had been gastered was an understatement. I had no idea someone of her stature would ever see a social fungus like me in that way.

Anyway, after learning this I thought I should persue this matter since I'd only held off on pushing things with her because I figured a friendship was the best I could expect. However, emails and calls went unreturned and I started getting a bit panicky, thinking I'd missed my chance. In the end I got hold of her brother, who said she was having a rough time as of late and had gone up to Edinburgh for a photoshoot. She was staying in a rather fancy hotel in the city centre (The George - it's amazing).

I was down in Dover.

...hmmm....I wonder how long it'd take me to get to Edinburgh?

Now I had free train travel at the time as my dad is a train driver. This was handy as I was at uni and utterly broke. But the mists of deluded love did descend upon me and I decided to have an Adam Sandler moment. I worked out that if I got the first train out of Dover, I could get to Edinburgh and have 4 hours to find her before I'd have to head back.

So, early one morning I hop on the train with little more than my wallet and my discman and go up to Edinburgh. My plan was simple - get to Edinburgh, buy flowers, go to hotel, ask for her to be called and summoned to the foyer, present flowers, declare love, married, kids, death do us part. Simple.

So, I get up to Edinburgh, buy the best flowers my £5 or so bank account could afford and found the hotel pretty quickly. At this point I realised what an utter twat I looked, with long hair down to my arse, tatty jeans and a Rage Against the Machine t shirt walking into this posh hotel. But thankfully the staff were very polite. However, there was a small problem.

She wasn't there.

Fuck.

So, I called her brother and he assured me that he would try and find out where she was. She had her laptop with her and so I found a small internet cafe and used the rest of my money to get 15 minutes online. She's not on MSN. Shite. I give her email address to a few friends and tell them to let her know where I am.

3 hours and 50 minutes later, I'm sat on a bench outside the hotel, leaning across to dump some flowers in a nearby bin.

I headed home feeling rather dejected and wondering if I'd done the right thing to begin with. I also wondered if her brother had given me the right address - maybe he thought these actions were the actions of someone a bit nutty (he was a good judge of character). But when I got home I eventually found out what had happened.

She'd gone to Edinburgh with a male friend. He'd changed the hotel at the last minute and whilst they were up there he proposed to her.

Still, I tried. And on the upside, I found out that I love Edinburgh very much.
(GONEism, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 23:20, 11 replies)

The nicest thing
anyone's done here for all of us is suggesting this QOTW.

Thanks badongism for this
And mistafeesh for this this
And e.m.m.y. for this this
( warmfuzzies Isn't here, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 23:14, 3 replies)

Paris
It was my first business trip and I was very nervous. After getting off Euro star I found myself in the foyer of a grand gold gilded hotel. I had a printout of outlook calendar and I knew that I was being picked up outside by the boss of our French office at 8 to be taken for diner. After checking in I had enough time for a quick shower and to change from one ill fitting suit to another.

The restaurant was plush. The food was incredible and the wine flowed. I remained charming and enthusiastic and managed to hide my drunken brain. When the dinner had finished the French team took me to a bar and showered us with drinks. I could start to feel the wine take a strong effect and decided it was best to leave.

Getting I stumbled out of the bar and into the cool clear night. I had been to Paris as a tourist a few times and have to admit that it didn’t impress me, but, that night it looked electric. With the stunning buildings lit up and music seeming to sweep from every window – I decided to walk back to the hotel.

With every step I felt the different drinks drip into my brain. The wine had now fully entered my blood and I could sense the tell tale signs that the Gin was taking effect. By the time I had reached the tunnel the whiskey had kicked me like a mule.

Staggering, I enter the tunnel. The artificial lights blinded my hazy vision. As I stumbled and tripped I could hear a low down screaming noise. By the time I looked up I knew what it was. Directly in front of me were the two head lights of a large car. It was coming at me with speed. My drunken brain was not function quick enough. I had stumbled into the middle of the road in a blinding tunnel in front of a speeding car and my body had frozen in panic. I was about to die.

Half a second seemed like a minute. As the car was within 30 feet I could see the driver’s eyes. He was looking squarely at me and he could tell I was too shocked to move out of the way. He also knew he was about to kill me.

I closed my eyes and waited

Bang

My eyes shot opened and I looked down. I was not dead. In fact I was still standing in the same spot. To my left lay a wreckage of a large black car. The driver had swerved. He had risked his own life for me. For reasons that I will never fully understand – I ran. I ran to the hotel. I ran to my room and I dived under the sheets and I hid there until morning.

The papers the next day said he had died with his two passengers. The man saved my life and in doing so had lost his life, the life of someone’s son and the life of a mother of two children.
( KISS.ME.WHERE.I.POO Signed the sex offenders register on, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 23:13, 10 replies)

When kindness is just too late
My mate and I were heading to America for a weeks holiday earlier this year, flying out on a friday, we got the Natioanl Express to Heathrow and everything was going swimmingly.

However, between getting off the coach and getting to the train to the terminal, the dozy pillock managed to lose his passport. We search high and low, but to no avail, so being the mate that I am, I board the flight and leave him to sort out an emergency passport and rearrange his flights.

Sadly events conspired against him, and he couldn't get another passport, and so nevermade it.

Monday rolls around, I'm having a great time, and he's back at work, and gets a facebook message from a lady, she found his passport in a shopping trolly in ASDA in Portsmouth friday night, but didn't get around to contact him until the monday.

Nicest thing she's ever done, ungreatfully received as he would have been able to rebook flights up until the sunday.

Live and learn eh!
( Moonraker isn't the droid you were looking for, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 23:08, Reply)

hahahahahaha!
hehehehe.



People are cunts. In my experience anyway.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 23:03, 7 replies)

My ex....
just got engaged and didn't tell me....
having said she wouldn't
and that she might want to get back with me.





Friend of mine offered to "off" her, that was nice of him- maybe a nice thing for me to do would be to say no? would it?
(bignutter, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 23:01, 1 reply)

I've spent the last hour
trying to think of something nice that someones done for me, but the most I can think is someones given me some weed or brought me a sublime cd.
The nicest thing someones said to me this week
"you'd make a pretty whore"

I'm starting to think I should raise my expectations slightly.
(bryony*niamh kneecaps exist to be hit with clawhammers., Thu 2 Oct 2008, 22:54, 7 replies)

Not me
In my first semester at uni we had the nicest lecturer in the world. His name was Greg, and he was American. One day he came in and he was totally bald. We were a little confused since for an old fella he had a handsome head of hair and we were a little stumped as to why he would shave it off and risk it never growing back.

It turns out his 21 year old nephew had been diagnosed with cancer and he was distraught at losing his hair from chemo, so Greg shaved his head so he wouldn't be alone.
(GONEism, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 22:52, 3 replies)

And also
My ex. Shortly after we split up a few months ago everything went wrong for me and I sank into a horrible, all-consuming depression. Despite probably wishing he never had to see me again he's supported me and listened to me and cooked meals for me when I wasn't capable of looking after myself. I don't think I would have survived without him. He didn't have to do any of it and a less good-hearted person (including me probably) would have just enjoyed the schadenfreude of watching an ex sinking. Not him. I don't understand why he's done any of it but I'm very thankful that he did.
(Mary Mandolin still had it on, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 22:47, Reply)

My best mate Joe
Several years ago, around the year 2000, I was lucky enough buy my own house and move out of my parents gaff into a lovely little 2 bed terrace where I still live now with my two cats Elwood & New Cat (see jelly.b3ta.com/questions/petstories/post81911)

And as soon as the paint was dry and all my stuff was in, I did what every stoner dreams about and started growing my own dope plants. Over the years I had collected quite a few nice plump seeds from the many different types of weed I bought. These were carefully germinated on paper towel in the airing cupboard and then painstakingly transferred into small yoghurt pots with compost and then eventually into larger pots (possibly also yoghurt). After a few weeks I ended up with about 12 totally different plants, all sitting nicely in my lounge window, swaying in the breeze and catching the sun.

Needless to say this was not a complex growing operation.

Anyway, shortly after I moved in, my best friend Joe (not his real name) joined me to occupy the second bedroom. At the start we got along famously, drinking endless small French beers from sainsburys (man, they were cheap), watching Beavis&Butthead and cooking bbqs in the garden. We had also recently discovered Ecstasy and a man who could easily get them so the evenings were spent talking bollocks, hugging eachother, listening to hard house records (yes, it was 2000ish, it was good then!!) and watching more Beavis&Butthead (on a side note here, if you havnt seen their movie, you really should)

Life. Was. Good.

But as im sure many of you will know, being best friends with someone does not always equate to being able to live with them and we started getting on eachothers nerves. I can’t remember the exact details but it was the usual quarrels…milk, washing up, food, tidiness, shampoo, washing powder, mouldy pint glasses in his room etc and we started drifting apart. Joe started hanging around with a different crowd but still living with me.

And so one evening he decided to go out on the town drinking with his crowd, with half a pill in his pocket.

In the early hours I got a call from one of his mates asking if he was with me, I said he wasn’t and tried to find out what had happened.

What transpired was that he had been arrested hanging out of a car window down the high street, shouting abuse at people with a half-full pint glass in his hand. (luckily with someone else driving) The police had stopped and searched him, found the half and Joe being Joe, had got extremely irate with them. Insisting that a half was nothing and they should f8ck off and find some real criminals.

The police, of course, had other ideas about class A drugs and because he had given them so much abuse dragged him back to the copshop for some questioning.

So sitting in the police interview, it comes to the question of where Joe lives.

Is it…

A) My house (where he lives); full of ecstasy, beer bottles, beavis&butthead videos and weed plants.

B) His parents house, a (now) million pound house in the nicest part of surrey with his uber straight conservative parents, sleeping in bed after a nice cup of horlicks who know nothing of Joes recreational drug fondness.

Ive spoken to Joe about this several times and this is why I love him (in a best mate stylee)…he didn’t think twice…it was the parents.

And so after a little more questioning the police jumped in their riot van and rocked on down to one of the nicest parts of surrey and proceeded to wake his parents up and rip Joes old bedroom apart. Literally went to town, like this was the biggest drug bust surrey had ever seen.

Of course they didn’t find anything, it was all at mine and at the end of the day he was let off with a caution. Which popped up nicely on the search when he was applying for a role for a charity and nearly lost him the job.

I was (and still am) working at a company that does a lot of work for the government, I have a high level of security clearance and being caught growing marijuana and possession of ecstasy could have seriously, seriously f8cked that up.

The sh1t he got from his parents must have been something else.

Joe still has his own key to my house and he is often found passed out on my sofa with beavis&butthead still playing in the background and Elwood sleeping on top of him.

So there you go, the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

You can’t really argue with that can you?

My best friend x

Edit: I should probably add that I no longer do silly things like this and neither does Joe. Remember kids drugs are bad...mmmmkay
(Qualitypapers, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 22:41, 2 replies)

This may smatter of self-pity, but...
...the nicest thing people do for me is just to talk to me like a normal person.

I'm very tall, broad shouldered, and crew-cutted* - and I've been cursed with a face that perpetually looks scowl-ly and angry - Sort of a cross between Charlie Brooker and Marcus from Fallout 2 (google-image search the latter if you're not familiar).

I basically look like I'm about to shout at you/punch you/rape you.

But I'm not. I'm really not.

If I stop a stranger in the street to ask directions, they'll back away slightly, usually look scared, and, if female, clutch at their handbag. Sometimes people will even cross the street to avoid me. But occasionally - VERY occasionally - someone will just approach me and fearlessly talk to me like a normal person. Which I am, kinda. And it makes me go all wobbly and pink and appreciative inside.

Ladies and Gents; I know we're all told not to judge by appearances, but if you see someone twice your size who looks like an 'orrible piece of work, it's all too easy to instinctively assess them as a threat and avoid them.

When you see someone like that, please, PLEASE attempt to conjure up whatever logical/ethical/moral framework you may have, override you instinct, and give them the benefit of the doubt. Just talk to them normally, without fear. And before you know it you might end up having a lovely chat about your favourite kitten videos from youtube.

Thanks to everyone who doesn't judge by appearances.

Nobuttocks

*i know crew-cuts come with their own set of connotations, but I've only got it because my a-symmetrical balding just looks fucking weird if I grow it.
(nobuttocks last besmirched the internet on, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 22:41, 7 replies)

In Goa
I visited a deserted, isolated beach in the north of Goa with my then boyfriend. The only thing on this beach and for about 10 miles in any direction was a very small shack in the middle of the sand which was a tiny cafe, run by an Indian family (Mum, Dad, three small children, two Grandparents). We went there in the evening for a cup of tea, having the intention of sleeping on the beach because we had no way of getting back to our hotel that day. The lady running the place asked us where we were staying and when we told her she insisted on us sleeping in the cafe. We gratefully accepted and assumed that they would go back to their house. Until it came to bedtime and it became apparent that all 7 of them lived in this tiny one-room shack. They very kindly made room for us, gave us blankets and kept us entertained all evening. They were one of the nicest and happiest families I have ever seen. In the morning they insisted on making us a cooked breakfast and hot drinks before seeing us on our way and refused to accept a penny from us. Lord knows what they were living off out there in the middle of nowhere but they seemed very happy to share. We hid some money under the things on the table before we left anyway.

I've never forgotten that.
(Mary Mandolin still had it on, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 22:40, 1 reply)

The nicest thing someone's done for you?
Some bloke died for my sins apparently. Cheers mate.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 22:27, 3 replies)

life back on track
quite some years back, i was a bit of a trainwreck.
i was on ludicrous amounts of drugs (no heroin/crack thank god) and drunk all the time. i lost my job as a bike mechanic, i was on the rocks. my friedns had crumbled to almost nothing, my folks barely knew me and i did my best to avoid them.. i was on the verge of homelessness and utter self-destruction, self harming, depressed etc.
i finally started to clean myself up, stopped the drugs and was working where i could find work.

my old boss from the bike shop called me, we'd spoken recently (we were friends despite his firing me) he'd heard i was sorting myself out, and he'd also fired the guy who was rinsing the shop for money daily, who i then learned had blamed me, hence the firing (i'm many things but a thief i am NOT )
he apologised and offered me a chance to work there again. i took it.
he over the following 2 years, helped me with wage advances, even helped me move my stuff into a new place after my housemates csrewed me over.
then one day we were talking about uni and how i was so angry that i'd fucked up and dropped out.
the next week he presented me with a ucas form, a written reference, and a cheque for the application fee, which he refused to take back. despite knowing he'd lose me as a mechanic, he told me he wanted me to succeed and that this was no business to make money in.
he didn't have to do that, and i fuckin love the old guy for it. i'm now a qualified graphic designer working in networking (i know i know.. ) with a decent wage, and if it wasn't for him, i'd never have believed in myself enough to give it a try.
so, richard howes, step up and take a bow, because you did somethign i will never be able to repay as long as i live. you beluieved in me when no-one else even me did.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Thu 2 Oct 2008, 22:26, 2 replies)