Rabbit
I was ten, we bought a rabbit. We called it "Buffy the Carrot Slayer" because I thought that was extremely witty... Big fluffy black rabbit it was, floppy ears, the works.
Several weeks after buying it, I returned home (alone, as was the style at the time) to find Buffy solid as a rock and cold as a... Erm, a dead rabbit... As I was a sensitive (pathetic) chld, this made me despair, and I was sniffling for days.

Now, our rabbit shrugged off the mortal coil at a time when one of the final season of a particular popular undead-killing female's series was soon to begin... The character in question having died near the end of the previous season. As long-running series often need to retain the main character to continue appealing to their fans, she was, of course, being brought back to life, so on the night of poor Buffy the Carrot Slayer's demise, I turned on the TV to zone out for a while, to be instantly treated to a Sky One advert, declaring:

BUFFY LIVES!
(You're kidding me., Fri 17 Jun 2005, 8:45, Reply)

Road Trip
Last year I was enjoying a spell on the "rock and roll', and whilst in my favourite boozer in my home town of Amsterdam, an old chum who moved to Spain comes in. Much back slapping, beer slurping etc. Anyway dear pal tells me he is just up to pick up his caravan to return it to spain - three day road trip all alone back. "Bollocks!" says I and a plan is quickly formulated for me to accompany him.

Sunday morning and off we go North to pick up the Caravan. After just 20 minutes the conversation dries a bit, and I feel a little apprehensive of the trip - ahh no it's just early and the grey ones aren't awake yet. Well we get to the holding place for the Caravan to find that the owners have buggared off, and there is chums Caravan in a secured field with a fuck-off great big security gate in the way. After an hour he's had enough so we end up breaking in by dismantling the gate post, grabbing his property and heading off at great pace, me in dread of the Politie in tow. But fortunatley no cops and no immediate comeback.

Now my Chum can be a tad hot-headed (he is a staunch Welshman) and when he gets pissed off, he gets pissed off. And sadly this trip was the one to really piss him off. I'll keep it short but in summary, 2000 miles of no conversation, a very slow van, running out of petrol, losing my passport at the Spanish Border (this is two days after the Madrid bombing - we were let through fortunatley) and just general being called a useless cunt a lot. But eventually we get to our destination, not so far from the border with Gibraltar.

Now the fun really starts. I also find out my mate does not like being helped with anything, whilst I cannot sit around and do nothing while others toil, so when trying to help load up his new house for the summer, I am barked to just go sit in the sun, so I relunctantly pick up one of his garden chairs and as I try and move it to be more sunward facing, break the reclininig arm off. More abuse. And it got worse.

My mate has a rather powerful motorbike, and rides it like he stole it. 150MPH + most days. I am an experienced pillion, but oh no, not to his way of riding (I had never seen a pillion with one hand on the tank, one on the seat tail - works mind) - but of course I don't do that, so first 150-20 in 3 second brake and im struggling to hold on - more abuse (of course if he had of pointed out the correct method he prefers - ah well). And on it went - fag butts on the floor one morning - a death threat. One beer to many - I'm an alcoholic. In fact everything, no matter how trivial, was just wrong and I was constantly reminded of it. Demoralisation it seems was my pals speciality - and boy was he good at it.

On the Wednesday he left in the van to pick up the bike to drop me off in Gibraltar for the day (wanting to be shot of me for a bit), and just 2 minutes after he left (in a naturally foul mood) I realised I had left my jacket in the van, ergo it would be left where he was picking up the bike from and thus no jacket - no bike ride, and I just realised how mental he was going to get upon his return. It all just came to a point there and then and that I was at the lowest point I had been for a long long time. I had hit rock bottom - so low, and truly unhappy at the whole trip - completely demoralised and all self confidence and worth had gone. I sat down on the garden chair and realised that life was truly shit, I should never have travelled, my relationship with my once good friend was now impossible, and that things could not get any worse if they tried.

Oh the Irony.

At that precise moment, I hadn't moved or anything, but the chair I was sitting on which was now relying on just one reclining arm since my earlier fuckup, decided it had had enough and decided to throw me backwards onto the floor as the other arm gave out. A beautiful back somersault, base over apex that would have made Nelly Kim proud.

I was 35 and I just wanted to cry.

A hasty decision was made to leave for Holland that very day - phone calls were made to my girlfriend to help me get a flight, a mate in Cordoba said I could go and see him, and then my mate returns with the bike. I nigh on broke down explaining what a bad time I was having and that it was definatley time for me to go home. Anyway I guess he hadn't realised how unhappy I had been, as he lightened a tad and told me I was going on Friday as planned and to cheer up. Well the last couple of days were certainly better, and we are still good pals, but hell it will be an awfully long time before we do another road trip.
(Waynster James Joyce is fucking my sister!, Fri 17 Jun 2005, 7:18, Reply)

My dad is a knob.
My Peruvian-born, German-adopted and brought up friend, who happens to be on an exchange trip here in New Zealand, was around for a jam one night a couple of weeks ago. We both play electric guitar so it was only logic that we should get together and put together some sort of band. Anyway, we stopped for dinner, I checked my emails, he checked his, and for some reason dad decided he'd prove his shit guitar playing skills by picking up the classical guitar and strumming. Dad picking up a guitar is a reasonably rare event, thankfully so.

Anyway, as if playing the guitar in front of my friend wasn't bad enough (and it was bad), he started singing.

"I'm nobody's child, I'm nobody's child, I'm like a flower, I'm growing wild - No daddy's kisses and no mummy's smiles, nobody wants me, I'm nobody's child.

I shrunk a bit and hid in the corner. No dad, my friend isn't adopted. He isn't a red-fucking-indian with a German accent.

Ah well, I don't think he was listening.
(brazzin, Fri 17 Jun 2005, 7:10, Reply)

Santo Shoot
I was working as a photographer last Christmas. I had been asked to help with a fund raiser, namely a child benevolent fund - woman who had lost babies type thing (very sad and all). So I agreed to help out taking photos of kids sat on Father Christmas' knee, charging a fee & giving a % to the charity. At the stall I had a few brochures advertising the family portrait side of the business.

During a lull I noticed a large woman & her bloke looking through one of the brochures, I took the opportunity to go & sell the idea of a family portrait to them. After a bit of chit chat I asked when she was expecting...."I'm not pregnant" was the reply - "oh god I have just blown this one" I thought, maybe I can recover the situation. "well when you do decide to have children maybe you would consider it?"

"Actually the reason we are here is because we have just lost a child" I wanted to be swallowed by the ground & spend eternity in hell with Santa sorry Satan.
(Baron Greenback Still in Sunny Singapore, Fri 17 Jun 2005, 5:54, Reply)

Goddamn temp directories
I've been using BitTorrent, and for some reason it occasionally downloads data to an obscure temp directory. I only recently discovered it and found all sorts of stuff I'd thought I'd downloaded but couldn't find.

There was one strange directory called "CAMEXP," so I opened it in front of my girlfriend. I immediately hit alt+back, but she'd seen.

We spent the next half-hour not talking, while she sulked and pretended nothing was wrong. Finally I couldn't take it anymore so I confronted her. "You saw what was in that directory, didn't you?"

She told me it upset her, but she understood that I have a right to pornographic material for whacking-off purposes.

Then I decided to stick my foot in my mouth. "No, I wouldn't use those. They were pictures of my ex-girlfriend."

It was a long, cold, lonely night.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Fri 17 Jun 2005, 4:50, Reply)

No need
I used to live in a flat in a dodgy area. I came back from work one evening to find that some bastard had kicked my front door in and robbed the place. Loads of my stuff was gone.
I rang the police and they told me not to touch anything as they'd send down C.I.D. to dust for finger prints.

So I was left not being able to touch anything in the front room.
I'd come to the conclusion after four days that nobody was turning up. Well not until about 8:00 a.m. on the Sunday morning another day later. After tearing around to get rid of the bong and the roach ends from the previous nights late session, I let them in to hear them utter the words;

"Nah, it's too dusty to get any fingerprints from here", when the jobsworths turned around and walked off.

After taking the piss by not showing up for five days, waking me up at that unearthly hour, nearly giving me a heart attack, there was no need for that.


I saw the same pair examining the crime scene when I arrived at work a week later. Someone had tried robbing the place and they'd turned up and got the finger print kit out within half an hour.

The Konts.
(ComeSeeMyPuppies, Fri 17 Jun 2005, 1:18, Reply)

Finishing work one rainy day...
for the Post Office, I was stunned to find the twats had locked up their gates and left ... with my car parked inside. Of course, I am in the middle of a certain West London borough with no way of getting 20 miles back to my house ... with no cash and a dead mobile. A bad situation ... so, I decide to climb the gate and open my car to take out my toolbox, and go to work on the bolt mechanism from the inside. I opened the gates, drove my car out and was just putting the bolt back together (from the outside) when I hear two cars pull up behind me. I hear, "Drop the hammer!" WTF think I, and I turn to find a deranged man-mountain of a police officer holding a GUN shouting at me, with three officer mates with their batons out.

Cue brown trousers.

The next twenty minutes and two phone calls were spent trying to convince them that I worked there and was ALLOWED to do what I was doing. Involved my agency boss pretending he was the Postmaster at the Royal Mail. I did get away with it and was grinning like a loon when I left...

Turned out some biddy down the road had phoned 999 and told them an armed man was breaking into the Post Office...

No apologies for length.
(deepfriedpeas, Fri 17 Jun 2005, 1:01, Reply)

To add to the cyst related japery
I had one on my balls and was too scared to see a doctor as I assumed it was cancer and that I was going to die so was too scared to get it checked up. Eventually, of course, I got it checked out (by this point it was about the size of 2 golf balls), and was on a waiting list for a while. It turned into quite a major operation.
When I was checking in they told me it was a teaching hospital, and "would I mind if medical students were going around with the doctors?" I said no, of course.
So on waking the next day in a urology ward full of old men I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was that the doctor was accompanied by about ten young trainee nurses, all waling towards my bed. I soon found myself lying exposed with the docter gingerly lifting my flacid cock as these girls I was bound to see around town at some point stood around and giggled at my red raw scrotum.
Don't think I ever fully regained my dignity.
( Zuowan, Fri 17 Jun 2005, 0:55, Reply)

Ninjas
Taking my dog out for a walk one night, I saw six menacing men, dressed in black from head-to-foot, like ninjas, passing through the streets. What could be worse than witnessing danger swirling through the neighborhood? Deciding that it was my job to shame the evil-doers by following them on their rounds.

After being waylaid at gunpoint and deprived of my keys and my shoes (apparently some people keep money there), they let me and my dog go. Taking the long way back, we ran home (me in socks). Just as I was calling the police, one of the ninjas reappeared to take my car, using my keys, but he retreated when he saw me on the phone (I had yanked fuses so he would have failed anyway).

I spent the next week calling the police regarding imagined noises from my nightmares, and putting locks on every window and door.

The dog, of course, noticed nothing.
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Fri 17 Jun 2005, 0:47, Reply)

broken limbs aplenty:
Having fallen arse over tit down some stairs and suffering a badly broken ankle, I have an operation to fit many screws into my newly deformed limb.

Everything is going swimmingly until the physiotherapist says I have to prove my mobility with the use of crutches before I will be allowed home.

"okay" says I and off I go - determined to prove my agility, until that is, I have to prove my competency ON THE STAIRS!

"shit" says I and try to weasle my way out of said task, but the physio guy isnt going to give up on me that easily and will not let me away with this part of my task,
"just give it a try" says he...

momentarally followed by my falling spectacularly down said stairs, and breaking both my wrists, my collar bone, my left elbow, and my other leg, and just for good measure 2 ribs! (oh and lest we forget 'two' black eyes)

Some time later I am lying in my hospital bed contemplating my future (ie: How does one wipe ones arse with just such injuries)?
When who should visit but mr physio,
(and here comes the 'no need for that' bit)

he brings with him a big bunch of flowers not realising the fact that I have acute hayfever and will now go on to bruise my remaining (healthy) ribs further by violently sneezing for the next hour or so...
( catweasle neither a cat nor a weasle, Fri 17 Jun 2005, 0:26, Reply)

Hot lamp
Had a cyst in my inner right thigh, sufficiently high enough to make me wonder if it was going to give my balls some of its cyst germs every time I moved.

Went in for minor op to have it whipped out under a local anaesthetic. Cue humorous Dr person with the "I'll try not to slip" line of gaggery. Already very, very nervous of his shaky grip on the scalpel after he'd made his initial incision, the attending nurse then proceeded to walk away from the angle-poise lamp she was holding upright, allowing it to sag downwards and scorch my balls.
(dandelionburdock, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 23:42, Reply)

Fully microwaveable pants
My then-girlf stayed over at my then-digs. And then stayed over again. By the second night, she'd already been wearing the same set of clothes for 2 days, and frankly her pants were in a shocking state. As I was a launderette fiend at this stage without washing facilities of my own, I let her get to work with a scrubbing brush and some soap flakes.

"I'm having a bath", she says. "Can you wring them out and put them on a hot radiator so they'll be dry for the morning?" I wring them out, I put them on a radiator, I go to bed.

Morning comes, radiators are stone cold, pants are still piss wet through. I'd forgotten to turn the heating on. Then girlf had vicious temper, so I figured anything I could do to improve matters would be a wise cause of action. With her just getting up, and only 10 mins before we had to leave for uni, I flung the pants in the microwave, figuring a half minute blast on the lowest setting would do the trick.

Got a bit distracted by a Pop Tart, and a minute later the microwave pings to reveal a pair of smoking, crispy, black (formerly purple) La Senza knickers.
(dandelionburdock, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 23:33, Reply)

Lately I slipped over in sweat during a taekwon-do sparring session.
Not only did I turn out to incur a much worse bruise than I'd expected from the fall, but the side-effects from my yellow fever vaccination have just kicked in, so, in total, I feel like i've been sat on by a horse with a javelin sticking out of its arse.
(Slurpy The Frog, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 23:27, Reply)

Playboy poker
One of the gang had brought some playing cards into school. But these were no ordinary cards, oh no, these had playboy centre folds on. Wahey, you might say. Well, just hold your tounge, you.
Anyhoo, I was sat at the table, revising for the impending maths exam, and all the non-maths guys were playing poker with these delectable cards. (oh yeah, this was all in the rather sub-par common room). So, I'm absorbed in my book, when they see my highly, unbelievably, psychotically feminist french teacher approach through the window. Credit where credit's due, they did work fast, and as a pack seemingly without a word exchanged. But they're still a bunch of flangeflaps.
So, I'm dealt a hand, face up with some very naked ladies in gratuituous positions. She walks up, is about to talk to me, when one of them pipes up, "Gat, hurry up, it's your turn".
Cue teacher looking at cards, smiling freezing but with a stony, killer's sheen about the eyes. Funnily enough, she changed the next lesson's topic to women's rights. And gave me evils all the way through.

As I said back then, there was no need for that.
(Gat Bandish I've got wood in my soul, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 23:23, Reply)

aw
It's so touching to hear your stories of misery. I myself have just won 2 million squid on the lottery and have bought myself a ferrari, a big fuck off house and a russian bride off t'internet. My sister has just married into a family who make fine malt whisky and I've just found out that my father is actually Bono, who my mum had a bit of a fling with 25 years ago in Dublin. But there was probably no need for me to tell you that.
( blindmelon, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 23:05, Reply)

Adding injury to insult.
We just had a 5.3 earthquake about an hour ago. First of all, it scared the shit out of me when I watched my plateful of omelette move across the table.
Some fucker in the restaurant carpark obviously felt the quake as well, as he rear-ended my car from the shaking.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 22:57, Reply)

Pregnant
Being pregnant suffering terrible morning afternoon and every fcuking time I eat sickness. Running to the toilet banging my toe on a chair leg on the way throwing up coming out of the toilet banging same toe on same chair leg breaking toe and throwing up again.

Also had sickness for the whole nine months and everytime I brushed my teeth it made me sick..... wake up, brush teeth, sick, brush teeth sick, brush teeth, sick........
(Smumps, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 22:41, Reply)

Stapler
Not very bright I know but, in the process of filling the stapler with staples, I managed to staple my thumbs together whilst closing the top back down.
For those of you who have never done this, I should explain that the worst part is not being able to pull the staple out, due to not having any free hands with which to do it.
(druidus, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 22:10, Reply)

Whilst on the bus with a flatmate...
He remarked that he could smell chicken. I pointed out that this was probably due to the woman eating KFC less than a metre away from us.

Embarassing enough for him before I said "Well... she might smell like chicken, I don't know."

Cue him laughing his ass off, mostly with embarassment. Luckily ours was the next stop.
( Iki I think my camel is dead., Thu 16 Jun 2005, 21:58, Reply)

"my son the artist..."
years ago, when i were a wee lad, my parents were told by an art teacher that i had a talent for drawing, and there was even a possibility of an art scholarship. They were only too happy to try and encourage my artistic aptitude, buying me all sorts of artistic paraphernalia. of course they never actually took a serious look at my drawings. until, that is, i reached the peak of puberty, at which point my mother happened to look through one of my *ahem* private sketch books... god help me, i think there was even a rather graphic depiction of daphne from scooby-doo in there somewhere. as if this wasn't excruciating enough, my mother decided to actually try to get me to talk about my "art" and how it made me feel... and then my sister came into my room and decided to have add her analysis.

i haven't so much as doodled a stickman since then.
(quipu, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 21:57, Reply)

Seasick Hangover
Christmas Eve, 2003, I go out and drink vodka, beer and more vodka until 4am, at which point I throw up and am taken back to my appartment hotel thing. Throw up til 5. Woken up at 7 on Christmas morning by mother who finds I've thrown up on the sheets in my sleep, with the biggest hangover ever. I'm then forced to go on a 5 hour boat ride. I was sick all the way to the boat and the majority of the time I was on it until I passed out.
(I R Advertiser How can you live like this you're out of control?, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 21:54, Reply)

I had terrible food poisoning a few years ago
while I was seasick. That was tons of fucking fun.
( routine has perfected burgers, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 21:36, Reply)

Adding insult to injury
Not only did I suffer a work related injury when I broke ribs in a lift accident (!) but after my return to work (light duties) some psycho cow rammed a plastic stock crate right on the ribs which were healing nicely, thank you very much!

"Aaaaaaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaaaaah, I think I am going to die! Oh sweet Mother of God that hurts!"

"Sorry, luv, I didn't see you"

Since then she has been sectioned under the Mental Health Act so my suspicions of her evil psycosis were well founded.
( Fire & Forget it's the only way to be sure, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 20:49, Reply)

what's worse than the squirts?
having no feckin' bog roll, that's what - which is exactly what happened to me last night!

Cheapo asda kitchen roll doesn't half chafe
(Foxy McClumpha, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 19:37, Reply)

2005 has been rubbish.
It started with be being done for drink driving after a major car accident. Thankfully I didn't hurt anyone apart from myself - but it was spectacularly large crash, and spectacularly stupid. I screwed up, I'm sorry, and I'm repaying my debt to society - but my karma seems to have other ideas, and has been biting me on the arse. Hard.

Firstly I lost my license and had to go to court, etc. The solicitor even thought I might well go to jail. I was understandably shitting it all the while, and just to make matters worse my girlfriend found out she had skin cancer.

I managed to avoid going to jail, and thought that I'd be able to be a good supportive boyfriend, and that everything would be OK if I just kept quiet about the court case. Unfortunately, a week later I find my name splashed across the front page of the local rag. As a result I had no option but to confess all to my place of work, which I thought would definitely result in me getting the sack... However through much grovelling and remorse I managed not to (praise Jebus).

Now as far as I'm concerned I deserved everything up to this point - apart from the girlfriend with cancer thing. There was really no need for the rest...

Shortly after this crisis I find out my girlfriend is a loon. Whilst I have shitting a brick about the court case, and have been pushed almost the point of breakdown worrying about her medical condition she has been lying to me. About the cancer. That's right, the whole cancer thing was a lie to stop me from leaving her - even though I had no intention of doing any such thing. I figure I should stick by her - and manage to for a while, but then I discover some of her other fabrications which I have been taken in by, like her (ficticious)younger brother who died in a tragic car accident. She then decides that she's going to start accusing me of cheating on her too (I wasn't) which resulted in a lovely acrimonious, bitter break-up.

Given the crap year I was having thus far (it was about mid-March by then) I go for a night out with some mates. My karma still hasn't had it's fill, and manages to orchestrate events so that that during the course of the night I manage to fall over and both dislocate my knee-cap and fracture my radial head (elbow) at the same time. That wasn't fun.

Then, just to top it all I got sacked from the job that I had previously managed to keep for a really minor breach of the email policy that I had unwittingly committed 9 months previously. It was my birthday two days later.

Woo.
(Arnolfini wasn't feeling very funny on, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 19:36, Reply)

I was down
and someone kicked me.

Wouldn't have minded if they'd used some imagination.
(lost_monkey, Thu 16 Jun 2005, 19:29, Reply)