every time I get horny

(when I'm single and at home), I download porn. And each time I tell myself I'll make a porn folder and keep the best ones on my computer. So I start downloading a few different ones. Then when the first one's downloaded I have a wank and immediately go 'oh, porn's a bit gross', and delete everything (including going into the recycle bin and deleting it from there). Then I regret that.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 5 Oct 2006, 15:32, Reply)

Quantas
Flying from LA to New Zealand. Fucking awful journey, takes 14 years. Sat in the middle between 2 big fat yanks who are talking over me all night. 8 hrs in and I'm ready to do anything to get off the plane. I don't care if we're over the sea. All I want to do is lie down with my legs outstretched for a few minutes. I get up and try and lie down in the bulkhead. Hostess tells me I cant do that. The. Last. Fucking. Straw. I wanted off.

The bit I regret:

Me: "If i told you I had a bomb, would you land the fucking plane."

People who overheard actually screamed. The next 6 hours were a blur. I was physically restrained by big fat yanks from earlier, the pilot came to talk to me. All the hostess were telling me off. People actually threw stuff at me. On arrival, i was escorted off the plane by - 9, yes NINE armed police. I left Auckland airport 44 hours later. How I got no charges I dont know. All I could think of was Thai prisons for some reason.

I am not allowed on Quantas ever again. Which actually suits me, cos they're the worst fucking airline on the planet (after Ryanair).
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Wed 11 Oct 2006, 18:37, Reply)

I spent Mother's Day weekend 2004...
...with a nubile girl that I'd met at a friend's party a week or two earlier. We'd had a great time at the party, and our flirting meant a follow-up night was on the cards. We went out on the Friday night and spent the whole evening talking, joking, flirting outrageously and drinking loads, before staggering back to her place.

Only problem was that I was meant to be going home that weekend as I hadn't seen my parents in a while, and Mother's Day is pretty much obligatory visitation time. Being young, horny and selfish, I chose instead to stay with this particularly gorgeous girl, and I had a fantastic (if slightly guilt-ridden) time. The rest of the night, morning, afternoon and evening was spent in her bed doing what came naturally, over and over again.

I finally left her bedroom on Mother's Day (Sunday) a whole day later, quite literally shagged out. While waiting for the Tube on that cold March morning, I decided to cut my losses by phoning home to say "Happy Mother's Day" but my mum wasn't in. My dad answered the phone and naturally he was annoyed about my no-show, but I reminded him --quite arrogantly-- that Mother's Day was a money-making scheme first and foremost, and it wouldn't matter if I came home the following weekend instead. He grumbled a bit, I felt like I'd vindicated my self-centred sexual triumph and I went back to my flat, planning to make it up with flowers etc...

I never got the chance. My mum died suddenly and unexpectedly of heart failure the following Friday evening, aged 58. I lost my only opportunity to make amends for missing that Mother's Day visit. I later realised that I had not spoken to her during the week either, which I probably justified at the time with "I'm too busy". My mum's death shocked my entire family and our neighbourhood, as she was the nucleus of everything we did. It also tore my dad apart, and even today he is a shadow of his former, confident self without my mum's support to structure his own life.

I'll take that guilt to my own grave, but at least it's taught me a lesson. These days, if I ever feel "too busy" to make time for someone else, I drop what I'm doing anyway. Life really is too short to live any other way.

You can thank both my mum and dad for the length and girth, because it's all in the genes. Just make sure you thank/blame your own parents while you still have time :-)
( chart cat has an itch, Tue 10 Oct 2006, 14:08, Reply)

not following the instructions of an MC

I failed to wave my hands in the air, like I just didn't care.

I blame this for my subsequent failure to party on till the break of dawn.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 6 Oct 2006, 16:20, Reply)

it was ...
over two feet long and nearly five feet wide at its largest extent ... elegant, long-legged and with a long neck ... the bill was long, thick and a beautiful yellow, while the black legs and feet contrasted ideally with the snow-white plumage ... when i saw it fly away with that graceful neck curved in an S shape, i thought to myself, 'that was surely my greatest egret.'
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Sat 7 Oct 2006, 23:36, Reply)

Also
I regret leaving "What I'm listening to" on on MSN Messenger, installing the Winamp plugin and then watching lesbian porn movies.
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Fri 6 Oct 2006, 18:06, Reply)

On consideration ...
The solutions are clear:

1) Shag whoever you can, whenever you can (unless you are married or in a relationship).
2) Don't stay in relationships you know are wrong - they don't get beter.
3) The safe route is always the boring one.
4) Love (if it is real) beats money and experience in the long run.
5) Until you are about 25, you can do almost anything and survive it.
6) Alcohol causes more regrets than girls or money.
7) The past is a memory, the future is a guess - only the present exists.
8) Don't wait for things to get better - they never do. They just stay the same unless you change them.
9) Worrying what other people think is a tyranny that oppresses your spirit. Fuck 'em!
10) Read B3TA instead of working. Works for me.

I REGRET SOMEONE DIDN'T GIVE ME THIS LIST 20 YEARS AGO!!!!
(frankspencer, Fri 6 Oct 2006, 11:35, Reply)

Be warned, this is long, but has a happy ending of sorts.
When i was 18 and at college, I met a girl who was pretty, easy going and a good laugh - ace i thought! The only dodgy point i could find is that she had a jekyll/hyde syndrome when it came to drink - she'd be this lovely, warm person and as soon as she was drunk she'd turn into a complete fucking nightmare. To me though her good points more than out-weighed it.

We went out for a long while having some really good times, when one night she came to the pub i was working at. She went out with a friend earlier on in the day and she was completely pissed. This wouldn't be so bad but she couldn't walk properly and she was being abusive.

She wanted a beer, i obviously couldn't serve her so i got her some water instead and got her to sit down, she kept getting back up and screaming what a cnut i was for not serving her. Thankfully and eventually some of my mates turned up and said they'd look after her and took her out of the pub. I said if she needs to get a taxi if someone could foot the bill and i'd square up when i finish.

When i finished i didn't get a phone call so i went straight home, i tried ringing her but it was just going straight to her answering machine. About 1am i got a phone call from her full of abuse and drunken gibberish, i tried calming her down as best as i could but eventually i had to end the call because it wasn't fair and i wasn't getting through - i'd done nothing wrong. It turns out she hadn't gone straight home, she'd gone to another pub, got pissed even more and wiped out her wages. All the while screaming at her mates that someone had robbed her. The poor sods still stuck her in a taxi and paid for it anyway.

About 3am i got another phone call from her mobile so i ignored it, it rang again so i answered ready for another torrent of abuse. It was her mum, she'd come in, argued with her mum and climbed (!) out of the window and run off. She asked me if she turned up at mine would i ring her and i said certainly, i doubt she would though given as she has no cash to get here.

The next morning i was organising a gig in the centre of town, so i had to go up to the next town to get some equipment. All the while i was texting her mates to let me know if she turns up at their doorstep or whatever. I get a phone call about 12 from her mate, they're in the city where they were due to meet (to shop) and she's there, in the same clothes, a bit cold and worse for wear but fine.

I felt better but i was worried about her, where she lived was in the sticks and the city was at least a good half an hours drive at least and she had fucked off at 3am with no money. I felt a bit weird, something didn't feel right but i was glad she was safe.

Later on that night i was at the gig sorting out the bands playing and she turned up looking rough. I found a quiet spot, I sat down with her and explained that i wasn't really chuffed at her abuse i got the previous night and the subsequent warning from my boss. She said she didn't remember properly but that she was sorry. I asked her how she got to the city and she said she hitchhiked and walked around for the rest of the time sobering up until meeting with her friends. I said that she could've been killed, I couldn't believe how things had got like that, I really cared for her and I was just so glad to see she was ok i just told her to forget it.

Time passed and everything was great, every so often there'd be the occasional drunk night but not as bad as that night at all. Then one night she came into the pub again with some friends and she was weirdly quiet. When she left she came up to the bar and told me she loved me before leaving, all a bit too weird - its hard to explain. Something wasn't right at all.

About 12:30am i get a phone call from her asking can we meet up the next day for a 'chat'. My mind was racing a bit, it felt like a break-up chat - "erm well, can't you tell me now what you want." - she wouldn't, she said she'd prefer to say in person. I said i wasn't in the mood to be messed around and did she want to break up. She went quiet, said no but there was something she wanted to tell me.
Eventually i got her to talk, my heart was in my stomach, i really didn't want her to break up with me.

She told me the while ago when she ran off and went to the 'city' (i want to say the name of the place but i want to maintain a degree of anonimity) - she did hitchhike her way there but prostituted herself as payment to the driver. She then had a bright idea of running away to another country and starting life anew with this unique career choice.

You know, its weird to explain but i'm sure there are a lot of people on here that must have felt this at one point - its like a fuse goes inside, not explodes, but like half the lights go out inside your body and you're not quite all there anymore.

I felt dead inside, not angry or upset just dead inside. I don't remember much after that i just remember asking her calmly to leave me alone for the night and i would talk to her the next day. I asked her why, and she said she didn't know, she said "it just seemed like a good idea." - i said "were you still drunk" - she said "no, i was sober then."

I didn't sleep, i went to work about 8am and just sat there (i wasn't working that day) and i text a friend of mine for help. She was the chef there and took me upstairs, i tried telling her about it and i lost it completely. I was hysterical, i was kicking cupboards and i just didn't know what to fucking do. Eventually i just went home and went to sleep. I came back out, told a few of my closer friends to explain why i was out of character and not with her and proceeded to get pissed.

I did meet up with her in the early evening, the dead feeling had come back and it was as if i didn't know her. She asked me if we could still stay together, because in her words "now i've told you you can forgive me because i've told you." - i said the only advantage to this situation is that no-one could fuck me mentally in such a way ever again, and that she needed mental help, she went off her head at that, i suppose securing she fact that she was a mentalist, and i just didn't see it.

I went out and had a 'time', i can't say good or bad because it was just needed. After that it contributed to my depression, i drank heavily, over the next couple of years i took anti-depressents all the while regretting that i couldn't have seen it before to help her. In my mind i couldn't get away from the idea that it couldn't be completely her fault and i must be to blame in some way. Anytime i saw her out though i'd just feel nauseuous and i'd go home.

The last time i saw her properly she was stood on the stairs in a venue and i was walking up, i only saw her at the last second and she looked at me, spat at me and called me a cnut for 'ruining her life'. I sat down with my mates, told them about it and that i wasn't bothered. I was, i was completely crushed.

Over time with help from friends and family i got out of my depression and away from the thoughts that i was to blame. I remember at the time not even talking to her friends about it to protect her afterwards subconciously. The funny thing is the mates she went to the pub with that night she told me decided it was too juicy to keep it a secret, so it was a combination of her doing it and them telling people that ruined her life, not me.

Now i'm 4 years older, i'm with an amazing girlfriend who treats me like i'm worth something. The friends and family i have are wonderful and fantastic supports, and when my depression does start to show it's head, with their help i keep it under control and lead a happy life.

My regret? It used to be that i felt i didn't see it sooner to help her, now, it might seem selfish but i wish i would've never met her in the first place. In my mind she doesn't exist. (edit : to explain 'doesn't exist' - i mean in the way that i don't think about it day to day or that i expect to see her around, this is the first time i've approached this subject in a long time, but it feels like a fitting closure to it, just because it happened so long ago and it doesn't hurt as much, i don't think it doesn't mean any less)

I apologise too about the lack of town names and city names, it felt good to get this off my chest but i'd still prefer a certain level of decorum about it.
(stomm, Thu 12 Oct 2006, 11:56, Reply)

Good Charlotte
When I was a student, another much younger college student tricked her way into my room, clearly distressed claiming there was a peeping-tom outside her window watching her through the gap at the bottom of her short curtains. Of course I comforted her like a perfect gent which seemed to work. She returned to her room later and I went to bed. Within five minutes Charlotte was knocking on my door again asking if she could sleep on my floor as she was too frightened to sleep in her room. I agreed and she brought in her duvet in to my room and laid it on the floor next to my bed. Again, like a perfect gent, I suggested she have the bed and I sleep on the floor but she refused.

Charlotte went to the bathroom to clean her teeth, and I got in to bed. She returned a short while later smiled at me and switched out the light. I heard her get undress and wondered what she looked like naked. Charlotte was a tall athletic young girl with a great figure and all the males in the shared student house were beguilled by her large breasts and curvy bottom. I lay there most of the night thinking up ways to get Charlotte in to my bed without seeming like a complete sex maniac before eventually falling asleep.

I was awoken at dawn by Charlotte returning from the bathroom. She closed the door quietly, dressed in only her in her underwear. She looked over to my bed as if to see if I was awake. I didn't have my glasses on so couldn't see her clearly through my sleepy eyes, but what I saw I liked. I also made sure Charlotte knew I was awake and that I had seen her return - she seemed a little embarrassed, but not too much for us to start chatting. She sat on the end of my bed and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. I was about to joke she shoul;d get under the covers with me, when there was a loud knock on the front door. It was a friend of Charlotte's. Another student in the house opened the front door to Caroline, who was now knocking on Charlotte's door along the hall.

"I'll go and get rid of her" Charlotte said, which I thought was a bit strange, but thought no more of it. She put on one of my shirts and left the room.

A few minutes later Charlotte returned apologising saying she'd have to leave as Caroline had brought her some bad news which she need to attend to. She removed my shirt and smiled at me as she pulled on her small t-shirt and jeans. Charlotte apologised again and leaned over to kiss me.

"Maybe next time", she said. I was left speachless. Did she mean what I thought she meant? There would have been some sex? I closed my eyes and silently screamed.

Charlotte moved out a few days later and I didn't see her again for over 10 years by which time she was married and the landlady of a pub. I met her and her husband when I was out with a mutual friend who confided in me that Charlotte had planned the whole 'peeping-tom' episode to get into my room that night.

The moral of the story is - don't be a gentleman of there's a an opportunity of sex involved with a beautiful young girl who has the hots for you. Chances like this are far and few between and you'll most likely regret it. I know I do.

My only consolation is a photograph of Charlotte in her underwear. I know I shouldn't post it, but I might if enough people request it.
(dsp128, Wed 11 Oct 2006, 5:31, Reply)

Actually....
Home brew whisky.
I was 17 and the invite was to a small gathering at a friends friends house. Bring a bottle sort of thing, so the obligatory bottles of wine, cider, etc were taken along.
Someone brought a bottle of home brew, undistilled whisky. No one dared touch it. Not being an accomplished drinker at that time, I wanted to show that I could indeed drink with the best of them.
Fast forward 20 minutes, and the bottle was empty. Not too many recollections of what happened during the rest of the evening, but I'm reliably informed that I was thrown out into the driveway (in the middle of a cold december), brought back in when they thought I was sufffering with hypothermia and had literally spray painted the side of the house in vomit. Vaguely recall being cuddled by 2 lovely females in front of the fire.

The regret was not the 4 and a half day hangover, nor the fact that 13 years on I still feel ill and the smell of whisky or that I made a complete tool of myself in front of total strangers.
My one regret was whilst being carried into the house through the kitchen, I screamed "Van Basten" (Dutch football of the time) and volleyed the canary cage complete with contents of canary across the kitchen. I don't know if it survived.
(SqueakyRat, Mon 9 Oct 2006, 15:46, Reply)

Up the stick
A few years ago when Mrs Frankspencer was just fiancee Frankspencer we had a pregnancy scare and she missed her period. She's a Catholic and wouldn't consider an abortion. I hate kids (I was a teacher). What did I say to her in her moment of worry?

"Don't worry. We'll have it" - NO
"I'll support you, whatever you decide" - NO
"Nevermind - can't be helped" - NO

What I said was a shameful and highly unenlightened comment which caused her not to speak to me until she finally got her phantom period:

"It's not murder! A bogey has a more complex cell structure after two weeks!"
(frankspencer, Mon 9 Oct 2006, 14:18, Reply)

Blood
I regret going to donate blood today.

They told me they didn't want my gay blood. Then I was put on a database to ban me from ever donating in the UK. Then I had to sign a form to confirm I was gay, which will be forever held in an archive somehwere. It feels like I have a fucking criminal record.

You'd think being a virgin would make it OK, but apparently homosexuality it carried in the blood these days. Oh really, Mr. NHS? This is news to me.

Beggars can't be choosers, you ungrateful vampire cunts!
(StrongBad =! strong% AND StrongBad =! bad%: StrongBad = 1/0, Sat 7 Oct 2006, 4:29, Reply)

Locking the door, trusting my brother, having green bollocks
Many years ago when I was a randy teenager avec cherry I was given the perfect opportunity to ditch my V plates - my parents had decided to go on holiday for the first ever time without me and my older brother and so I invited the then girlfriend round.

I was going out with a lovely young lady at the time who was very open, forward, fit and most importantly, filth. After many years of waiting and er, performing solo I was going to get some. Just as long as my brother pissed off and left for the night.

I convinced my big brother to politely fuck off for the evening and leave me and the missus alone. I reckon 5 minutes would have probably done but he agreed to leave for the night - too willingly looking back now.

As soon as he left the house I began getting ready, tidying the house and relieving the pressure with a quick ménage a une when my brother and 3 of his friends burst into my room, pinned me to my bed and proceed to cover my crotch with 3 bottles of green food dye (one would have done, really) and then ran off out the house into my brothers car leaving me with Grotbags' thumb hanging out my pants.

My girlfriend was due round any minute and as this was pre-mobile era, there was nothing I could do to stop her coming round. Being a man, British and proud I did the brave thing and cried like a little girl til the missus came round, hid Orville’s wing tip, dried my eyes and let her in.

She only wanted one thing and pestered me all night but I was too embarrassed to let her know what had happened and instead told her things were moving too fast (smooth) and that we should take our time.

Two days later I was dumped for being a frigid twat. It was a good few months before mini hulk looked more like Dr. Banner again and three years before I finally got some. From green cock to blue balls.

My final regrets are firtly not noticing the flash that went off in the background when my brother and his friends jumped me and secondly taking my camera to the local snappy snaps a few months later to proces what I thought was innocent holiday photos rather than posting the film....
(Let's all have an asbo, Fri 6 Oct 2006, 8:25, Reply)

Chemotherapy
1997 - The Bruswick Pub, Crewe.
I had recently gone from long pony-tailed big hair to a grade 0 - just for shits and giggles...

I'm stood at the bar having a few scoops when Dave Miller, my old English lecturer from SCC comes over to me, the first time I had seen him since leaving college.

Dave and I always had a very stifled and reserved relationship - we mutually thought each other was a joke and also I was apparantly a contributing factor to Mike Gallagher's (the former head of the English department) 'retirement'.

Dave came bowling over to me with a big piss-taking grin, slaps me on the back and comes out with a happy put-down -

"So Rob, going for a POW look to gain sympathy from the DSS?"

It was one of those moments where I wish my acting skills weren't quite as capable....

"No Dave" - I dropped my head and broke eye contact, "I've just come out of Chemotherapy....."

There wasn't another word - there was a chill, Dave went ashen, put his pint on the table and walked out with his head down....

It was like using a nuke to kill a cockroach

Sorry Dave..... Really I am....
(Catchag "You know!....For Kids!", Mon 9 Oct 2006, 15:45, Reply)

Me greatest regret
is taking out a store card with ACME. I've spent a fortune in there, buying fake holes, hundreds of tins of paint, rockets, cannons, cannonballs, anvils (oh the anvils!) and they all seem to backfire on my ass every time.

I'm now a registered anemic and my fir is coming out in clumps. On top of that, ACME charge 29.8% interest on their store card, which is a fucking nightmare to clear. At this rate, it'll take me until the year 2436 to clear this debt.

In retrospect, it would have been alot easier to just stick to McDonalds rather than catching that nippy cunt. Hope he dies of foot-n-mouth.

Your's sincerely,

Wile E.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Tue 10 Oct 2006, 19:34, Reply)

broken me leg
My regret: I’ve broken me leg
I was painting a ceiling, standing on a ladder and using a roller above me head, bored witless, and I got to thinking of white paint…
i was 14, staying with my parents in a French hotel, my first ever stay in a hotel and first ever time in a big room of my own, it had white walls, with tasteful pctures and big mirrors and eye dazzling white sheets on the bed…
I woke up in the morning with just one sheet over me, tent central.
I’d been woken by the maid bringing in juice and croissants, she looked about 18 and smiled at me and the er, tent in a low voice she asked ‘if I wanted anything else’ I was blush red and said ‘no thanks, that’s fine’ and she put the tray beside the bed.
‘are you sure ‘m’sieur that I cannot get you anything else?’ I said no again
still smiling,she started for the door, at the door she said ‘are you sure I cannot do anything for you?’

And that’s why I fell off the ladder…its taken me 20 years to realise what she meant
(mickturate if i could be arsed i'd be bored, Wed 11 Oct 2006, 13:14, Reply)

Heavy Object
I regret looking after my friend's two gerbils. They escaped one day, and while it was easy to find one, the other evaded capture for hours. After the nth time of lifting the sofa, there it was. I was so surprised I dropped the furniture. On it's little head. The burning swell of shock, horror and guilt was astounding.

What do you do? You're absolutely right, you do the decent thing and buy another one that looks the same. I slipped it in the cage. The 2 rodents squared up like they were in the thunderdome and fought to the death. My friend was now the proud owner of a mental death machine that could bite through leather gloves.
(bendyness shows you on the brick where he licked her, Sat 7 Oct 2006, 14:03, Reply)

I Regret
going out clubbing when I had the shits, finding the bog had no paper, and using an empty, inside-out salt and vinegar crisps bag instead.

It still makes me wince.
( MisterPunch did it that way on, Fri 6 Oct 2006, 15:03, Reply)

Curse the Lord
I went through a Christian stage when I was younger. I believed in Sin and Hell and the Lord. It was during this period that I TURNED DOWN the following opportunities because Jesus wouldn't have liked it:

1) Taking part in a study during which I'd be able to take medical grade opium under lab conditions to gauge its effects.
2) Becoming an in-house photographer for Penthouse Magazine.
3) Having sexual intercourse with a Swedish lingerie model who was hot for me.
4) Investing in a fledgling internet project called 'You Tube'.
5) Sharing a bedroom with Cara Mendez, the Venezuelan blow job champion.

Now I have rejected the Lord and I cannot go back to those days.
(frankspencer, Wed 11 Oct 2006, 9:49, Reply)

My Greatest Regret
was blindly stumbling around the interweb in my ignorant bliss, until by chance happened on a stange photo of a great white attacking a south african navy chopper crew under the golden gate bridge. Curious, and slighty scared i followed the breadcrumb trail to a site called "bee-three-tee-aa" where rape, and child molestation are laughed at, Pictures of kittens are cooed over, where the quo randomly appear before impending disaster, and where a mysterious beast called the Magic Donkey resides. Yes, my biggest, greatest and most fearsome regret was not listening to enough johhny cash.

oh yes, and im sorry for shagging that five year old up the shitter with a weasel and toilet roll tube....



And for killing JFK...


and the whole Iraq war thing...

And putting that fucking iceberg out to melt in front of the Titanic...

And disobeying the "no Smoking" sign on the Hindenburg....

And leaving the landing lights on In the World Trade Center on the 10th...

i may shut up now


*crawls back under rock*
( Wingnutt razzle dazzle my fantasmagazzle, Tue 10 Oct 2006, 21:11, Reply)

My dear mother in law
I very much regret dashing downstairs, bollock naked, in the early hours for a quick puke in the toilet only to burst in and vomit all over my mother-in-law who was sat on the toilet having a shit. It still makes me cringe.
(tonyhrx, Tue 10 Oct 2006, 10:43, Reply)

I slept with my (now-ex) girlfriend's sister.
...but I don't regret it for a moment.

What I do regret is that 4 years earlier I was in a bar and I saw two attractive girls. I walked over and started speaking to the one on the LEFT. With hiendsight, I should have gone RIGHT.

I spent the next 4 years slowly building a relationship with the LEFT girl, whilst realising - at a much quicker pace - that I was actually in love with her sister (on the RIGHT).

And what's more - it was mutual: we got on great, there was no doubt that the attraction was there but there was always the small matter of her sister being my girlfriend.

And so after 3 and a half years, we did what any sensible people would do. We got drunk, slept together, enjoyed it immenseley, pretended to regret it as she cried because she really regretted it, wash, rinse, repeat for about 3 months.

After 3 months neither of us could take it any more - it was an impossible situation.

The actual girlfriend hadn't a clue, which made it all the more cruel when I split up with her seemingly out of the blue, I but had to break away from the both of them.

That was all three years ago now, and I haven't seen or spoken a single word to either of them since. Not an email, not a text.

There's not a single day that goes by that I don't wish I'd turned to the right.
(Flickr_Freak is a figment of your imagination., Fri 6 Oct 2006, 14:50, Reply)

I regret
winning the big vagina race over all the other sperm.
(fantomex, Fri 6 Oct 2006, 12:24, Reply)

Watching
Episode I


A little piece of me died that day, Jar Jar you shit.
( Laird Dave Draws Now charges to take off his clothes., Fri 6 Oct 2006, 1:02, Reply)

shut your mouth
Life is about collecting ‘tick in the boxes’.
Each box is a unique experience (good or bad), and can be classed bronze, silver, gold or, the absolute pinnacle, platinum.
Examples:
Bronze – doubling the speed limit
Silver – being arrested
Gold – swimming with sharks
Platinum – twins.

Anyway, this is the story of my biggest regret, the one chance that I had to complete a particular platinum tick… and I missed it.


I was sitting outside a pub in London Bridge one summer lunchtime with a couple of senior colleagues, one is the classic ex-public school boy, youngest ever fellow of the institute of engineers etc, the other is a working class boy done good, and me, the office youngster.

Across the road I noticed a 6ft+ black man walking down the road wearing a knee length red leather coat, big sunglasses, overly patterned shirt and a mini afro.

He looks just like Shaft says I.

The public school-boy type looks over and said, completely innocently as only the posh and overly wealthy can be: “who’s Shaft?”

I panicked and spluttered into my pint.

Working class lad calm as you like answers “He’s a baaaaad mother”



I almost cried.
(Digstar fu#king loves biscuits, Tue 10 Oct 2006, 22:28, Reply)

T'other day
I overheard someone actually saying 'Lol'.

I regret not removing them from the genepool.
(thePontificator, Tue 10 Oct 2006, 12:20, Reply)

He always thought I was "special"
My cousin & I had spent the previous weekend trying to out-do each other with "Derek & Clive" gross-out comments.

So I decided to try to up the ante when I rang her the next weekend after spending the afternoon in the beer garden. But I rang from a landline & thought I remembered her number.

Which is why my Granddad woke up the next morning to an answerphone message informing him I was going to kick him in the c*** until his tits explode.
( four styx, Mon 9 Oct 2006, 18:16, Reply)

I've been thinking long and hard about this one...
I regret that for years I used to crumple up the bog-roll. Folded is much more efficient.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Sat 7 Oct 2006, 6:50, Reply)

The thing that kills me every day...
About 2 and a half years ago i found out that a girl in my Secondary school who i had barely noticed before had taken a real liking to me. So anyway we were introduced by a friend one night whilst out getting pissed, and i must say she was, and still is, absolutely gorgeous. and smart, and funny, and good-natured. Generally perfect in every way. Unfortunately at the confused age of 16, i found it very hard to accept just how much this girl liked me. Usually the girls who showed this sort of affection towards me were either complete Pug-ugly mongs, or a bit mental, or had STDs, or all of the above.

To be honest i was kinda shocked and scared by it all, and found it very hard to get close with this girl and really open up to her.

Anyway the long and the short of it is, i basically told her (i hate myself so much for this) that she was very nice, but i just didn't really want a relationship with her or anyone. She was quite upset and we didn't speak for about a year (not because she refused to talk to me, more just that we didn't really see each other much as i had left school by this point and lived in a different town).

Anyway, flash forward a year, and i see this girl at a mates house party one night, and OH MY GOD it suddenly hit me. What the fuck had i done??? This girl is absolutely amazing, the perfect girl for me...Even though i was 17, i could actually imagine spending the ret of my life with her (corny as it sounds). To be honest, from that night on, i started to gradually fall in love with her. Problem is she's been going out with this other guy for the last year now and i think it's gonna remain a long term thing.

I still think about her every day and kick myself for being such a fucking twat and letting her slip away.

..And if you're reading this Katy Macintyre, I'm sorry i fucked things up and i love you. Really.

I Think the lesson for everyone here is that if something good comes your way out of the blue, FOR FUCK SAKE hold onto it..cos it'll be gone sooner than you realise if you don't.

*Apologies for general boringness of this post...but when a QOTW pops up that you can really relate to, sometimes it's just gotta be done*
(BatCountry organised, attended, and was thrown out on, Fri 6 Oct 2006, 13:36, Reply)

Almost have it all
I am a volcanologist. I have made love to thousands of beautiful women and enjoyed a career of fulfilment and great wealth. All my relationships have been problem-free, my childhood was delightful and my family perfect.

But I have ginger hair.

I regret my Scottish ancestry.
(frankspencer, Tue 10 Oct 2006, 16:22, Reply)