shame!
last year i had this HUGE crush on a guy.. at the time he was my manager but he was my age and i never took any sort of direction from him anyway - so to me he was just an ordinary guy - and he was leading me on.. making suggestive comments about wanting to be with me and all this sort of crap

anyway he ended up getting fired for stealing money but told me he'd be out partying that weekend and told me to come out and meet up with him as well and we'd have a fun time - stupid me thinking "ooh, here's my chance FINALLY" being so head over heels, went out and drank an entire bottle of ouzo.

Went into the club and looked around for him, only to find him not there. Started trying to pash my sister (!) and then went to get some water, fell down and couldn't get up so was escorted outside with my sister on one side and some random other guy on the other - my sister reckons she just grabbed some random guy just to stop me from cracking onto her.. so said random guy was apparently kissing me for a good half an hour.. i can't even remember if it happened or not.. i have absolutely no memory of it at all

sister tells me that i crash tackled one of the bouncers and kept calling him "shannon" and tried to dry hump him and told him i loved him (i didn't even know this guy.. some indian dude) and then i screamed at my sister to go over to this guy that i was in love withs house to see why he wasn't at the club.

get there, he comes outside and sees me in the car passed out.. my sister and him and his brother were talking for nearly an hour until i finally come to.. spot the guy, start yelling all sorts of abuse at him (this is at 2am in a quiet suburban town btw) and then proceeded to tell him how much i loved him and cried to him asking him why he doesn't love me and then telling him again how much i love him and wish he loved me too..

he was just about to give me a hug (probably out of pity) when i threw up all over myself, and started blowing my nose into my hand and wiping it on myself. Seeing this made him vomit, and his brother, seeing him vomit, also started to vomit. He then went inside and told me to go home and sleep it off and my sister started driving me home. I didn't want to go home so i jump out of this moving car and start searching for his house. I ended up in some different street banging on some random womans door yelling out for this guy, and then went and sat on a traffic island and waited for my sister to come back and pick me up.

i vowed never to drink again, but then did a few months after and got absolutely shitfaced at a coworkers 40th (with 200+ guests there) and decided i loved my new manager and sent him some text message declaring undying love for him.

I then stole his bottle of wine, drank it from the bottle, sat for a little bit, and then vomitted all over the dancefloor, where people started slipping over in my vomit. I was escorted outside again where after a lot of crying, I passed out. My sister came again and picked me up, dropped me off at my brand new car that i had left at my coworkers house, and followed her home, drunk as a motherfucker.

work the following monday was hell.. no one would look at me or talk to me.. but then my manager comes up to me and goes "can i have a word please?" and we go outside

he mentions this text message i sent him and told me that he was going to pretend it never happened and told me that everything between me and him was fine.. but then stopped talking to me for a good 2 months after, then goes off on stress leave after nearly having a heart attack (at 33) and found another job.

i can't help but feel partly responsible for him leaving.. but i don't care that he's not there anymore.. i'm just so ashamed about the whole thing
(brotagaia, Sun 27 Nov 2005, 10:14, Reply)

Shame
Many years ago I pretended to be a socialist in order to join the Labour party. However, when I became Prime Minister I raised taxes for the poor, removed the right to trial by jury, deported everyone who looked a bit foreign and had hundreds of soldiers and thousands of civilians killed just to increase my poll ratings, making people look back on the good old days of Margaret Thatcher.

Sometimes when I'm sitting on a sun soaked beach in front of some multi-millionaire tobacco baron's palace in the Maldives I feel terribly ashamed.

I mean, the name Tony sounds sooo gay.

TB
( Vulthoom, Sun 27 Nov 2005, 8:11, Reply)

Dear me
Being the studenty type that I am, i tend to get shit-faced at every possible oppurtunity.

Once I partook in the act of buyin some drugs off a dodgy looking geezer in a club. I went to the toilet happy in the knowledge I had scored. Now being drunk as I were i decide to expect aforementioned drugs whilst having a piss. Ooops! dropped them in the trough thing, i fished them out quickly and stuffeed into my mouth like a sugar depraved 7 year old scoffs down smarties. They must have had upteen different peoples piss on them :( they tasted bitter :D

Also last night I got wankered again, I 'farted' in bed, chuckled to myself because it was a pretty loud and pugent guff. Only to wake up and find a little bit of poo had popped out. I must have been really drunk.
(PieEater, Sun 27 Nov 2005, 4:46, Reply)

I have a couple which put me to shame, although the people
on the receiving end think it's hilarious. I do feel some guilt when I think about these, as they are totally wrong things to say, but hey, if the people involved don't mind........

My best friend lost her mum 6 years ago, and her dad and stepmum 3 years ago. Last year, her uncle died and all that's left in the family is her and her brother (and her husband and kid). In February this year, after a visit to the doctor, she was diagnosed with cancer (at the time, they gave her 2 months to live). I get the first phone call, and what do I say?
"Thank fuck I'm not a member of your family!"
Although it still makes me feel guilty saying that, she insists that she still giggles about it to this day.

Shameful thing #2. I have a friend who is black, gay and in a wheelchair (seriously!). First time I met him, I asked what he did for a living (he's a partner in a law firm). What comes out of my mouth? "Fuck, if you had AIDS on top of that you'd be president!". Fortunately he found it hilarious, and that was what cemented our friendship. Now when we're out in public, he'll have me call him my little black crippled slave when he thinks we can shock someone!
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sun 27 Nov 2005, 4:08, Reply)

Death!
I have a horrible habit of saying the worst possible thing at the worst possible time.

One of my friends was telling me how his uncle, who was epileptic, was hit by a bus whilst driving, and was killed. What did I say? "Was the bus flashing?". It wasn't until after I'd said it that I realised how horrific I was being.

I didn't learn my lesson.

Another friend discovered that his trumpet teacher had died. "Did you play the 'wah wah waaaah' tune?". You know what I mean, the sort of thing that happens in pantomimes when something silly yet bad for the character happens. A sort of disappointment. I'm told the technical term for this is a "decending chromatic wah".

Still hadn't learnt my lesson.

Same friend told me a few days later his orchestra had performed a concert in memory of the aforementioned trumpet teacher. I asked him if the teacher had come on stage at the end to collect some flowers or something. Whoops.

I should probably think before I speak, or at least have a dictaphone handy so I can post MP3s of myself on the internet.

/blog
(Psythor, Sun 27 Nov 2005, 0:49, Reply)

I'm insane
I've had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) for as long as I can remember. An unfortunate part of this basically means that I spend every spare minute of the day obsessivly thinking up ways to torture, main and kill people.

Apparently the fact that I worry so much that I will one day snap means I never will, but what do psychologists know? Bloody hippies.

What really gets to me though is that I know deep down I would do it all if I could just think of how to get away with it.

I'm a bad person.
(Knighty, Sun 27 Nov 2005, 0:28, Reply)

Oh God, another one that springs to mind....
When I was at a party I was speaking to a friend from college called Kate. She had obviously had a bit to drink as she was slurring and giggling at everything.

"If you drink any more you won't be able to walk!" I said.

Kate is in a wheelchair.
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Sun 27 Nov 2005, 0:16, Reply)

Nightclub Launderette
My most shameful moment is as follows...

It was my mate's 18th birthday so I agreed to go out to town for a 'few' drinks. Obviously, a few turned into many and upon being told that a certain nightclub was selling all bottles for £1...I agreed to make it a night.

I soon learned that 'all' bottles actually meant 'vk iron brew' and after a few of these beastly drinks I was feeling a bit worse for wear on the dancefloor. However I fought on, until my stomach finally rejected the vile liquid and I promptly vomited all over my shirt.

Amazingly, I did manage to make it to a toilet cubicle without anyone noticing, not even the toilet attendant due to my effective secret agent skills. There I sat on the bog for 10 minutes in my puke-soaked shirt while holding the toilet door closed (the lock was broken).

I reasoned that as soon as I returned to the club, I would be ejected from the venue for looking a state so I did the only thing available to me at the time. I washed my shirt in the toilet.

Try to imagine it, there I am stood on one leg while holding the door closed with the other, naked above the waist while washing my shirt in the toilet water. Toilet water is shit (no pun intended) by the way and it took me at least an hour to clean it, even when I made use of the flush. But clean it I did. The fact that people had been pissing and shitting in it all night didn't worry me at all.

When it was clean, I figured the attendant would be suspicious if I used the hand dryer, so I just put the soaking wet shirt back on and cooly wandered back out to the dancefloor. My mates hadn't even noticed I had left, bastards, and everyone just assumed I was really sweaty from dancing.

Ahhh, but my tale does not end here. While walking home at the end of the night I smiled to myself, satisfied that I had got away with my earlier shirt-washing. Suddenly, some coppers pulled over, claiming that I appeared to be trying to evade them (wtf?). So, I was quickly questioned (which involved me reading my details off my driving license since I couldn't remember my date of birth or where I lived).

The lady copper decided to frisk me and upon wiping her hands over my shirt she enquired as to why I was soaking wet?

"Foam Party" I quickly replied, which was a brilliant answer come to think of it. She figured I was no threat and sent me on my way never knowing that she had just wiped her hands in Cardiff's finest toilet water, haha (the fact I wore the shirt all night means nothing to me).

Hahahahahha

Sorry, I mean...I'm so ashamed :(





:D
( Regger, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 23:23, Reply)

oh.. dear
First time I tried to finger a chick -- I 'missed' and got her arsehole by mistake.

Didn't go down too well.

Earned me the nickname 'Goldfinger'.
( hismastersvice cunting flange-jammer, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 23:23, Reply)

I still ...cringe
Fucking a chick on a bed at a party while my GF lay in a pile of puke on the floor. Poor said GF had drunk too much because she was unhappy and suspicious that i was cheating on her.

Totally got away with it and fucked her later that evening on the same bed.

Fucked them both for a while. By the time they found out and compared notes -- I was off with someone else. Cunt.
( hismastersvice cunting flange-jammer, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 23:19, Reply)

Cinemas
I was once kicked out of a cinema. Actually, I left willingly. Supposedly, you're not allowed to finger your girlfriend in the back row of a G rated movie. I left because police were involved.

No apologies for shortness, its the way you use it that counts.
(I like you much more than this telephone pole. But not as much as this frying pan., Sat 26 Nov 2005, 23:13, Reply)

In Primary School
The teacher asked us if anyone knew what the pink things underneath cows were (Have no idea what she was teaching us about but hey)

For some reason I instantly shout

"BOOBS!"
(therocker, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 21:34, Reply)

Once, when i was in Netherland
With my family, we walked througe a street. enyway, there was a candy shop with wierd candies that looked like small rocks - and i just had to try them in order to die happy, so i simply took one and ate it. This was the most owfull candie i have ever had (and most likely will ever have). it was simply a mix of sement, black pepper and salt. Yuck.

Now, you are prodebly asking - "What dose your stupidity has anything to do with Shame"?
Well, when you are 11 years old you feel really ashamed and bad for stupid (yet criminal) things like that, and spechialy since i never told enyone about it.

[Sorry for my English mistakes. where is the Giliotin when you need it?]
(Scotchman, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 20:27, Reply)

i've done many...
I was in a taxi once with a girl i was taking out shopping, trying to impress her etc... i spotted what looked like a chinese man dancing by some rails. I started laughing and goes "look at that crazy guy dancing!", she didn't laugh at all, then the taxi guy says "He's not dancing, he's handicapped". *cringe*

in the drydock in leeds, wasted as hell my mates told me how i confidently strolled over to a table of ladies, walked up to the fattest, ginger minger ever and proclaimed my love for her and how she was the most beauiful thing i have ever seen. *sigh* the things i used to do for a shag.

Also there's a guy at work who has a birth defect - his fingers are all fucked up basically. I was at work doing this kind of spackerish impression of him and imitating his voice, when i noticed him sat virtually opposite myself staring at me. i nearly died.

Also had a bird come over from manchester to see me in leeds to go out on a romantic date and to break her in as she was a virgin. But instead I got completely wasted, i mean seriously utterly fucked... i woke up in my own sick on the bathroom floor in the morning, naked and clutching a bottle of vodka. I was also covered in christmas lights for some reason, and the memories of stealing a christmas tree in headingley and dragging it all the way home slowly surfaced.... it's ok though i broke her in the following week, on a park bench :¬S i was such a bastard :(
( northernwifeb3ta is going to Dubai in December :D for "work", Sat 26 Nov 2005, 19:00, Reply)

Fuck. I'ver missed the b3ta bash.
I just arrived back home after missing one of the few trains into london tonight.

I was looking forward for this for months, finally meeting the brave people of b3ta.

I was willing to make the 2+ hour journey into the big smoke and the nearly 3 hour journey back. for about 2 hours of meeting you guys. not even time to get half drunk. (can't afford a hotel)

I told good friends they could not come this w/e as i was going bashing.

I traded tonight with my missus for looking after our kid all day tomorrow.

she even drove me 15 miles to the station that was _not_ closed to some engineering work.

And then the fucking train drives off right in front of my nose.

Taking the next one would mean i'd have about 30 minutes in the drunken monkey.

If only I would have been there 20 seconds earlier. If only I had not returned indoors to find my iPod.

The shame...
( bierbelly, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 18:33, Reply)

Shame
I went out for a drink with a gril. We talked about music, drink, art etc. Eventually the topic turns to self-harm, cue me saying in my best Alan Partridge impression:

Self-harm is Saa-aaad"
( WormuIus, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 15:27, Reply)

The beer didn't taste quite right
I used to meet a mate in the pub most weekends. We'd chew the fat, talk about the normal things blokes in pubs talk about. Sport, work etc..

Every time he bought a round my drink tasted somewhat bitter. Possibly the guilt that I was fucking his wife :-/

Sorry Pete.
(Cane: I love Sushi, Sobriety & Shotokan, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 10:15, Reply)

Paying The Bill
My most shameful moment, without a shadow of a doubt, occurred roughly ten years ago. To cut a massive story slightly shorter, growing up I was never really interested in being fashionable and cool. Whenever I hung around with my mates as soon as they started listening to trendy underground music I'd get bored and wander off. This is how I first started hanging around with John, one of my friend's younger brothers. We had an odd relationship, he looked up to me because I was older and I was fiercely protective over him because he was younger. Between us something just clicked, we became inseparable. He was the closest friend I'll ever have. When I say fiercely protective I mean way past patronising and bordering on absurd. I'd tell him off if he picked up something sharp and several times, when he left my house, I'd follow him secretly to make sure nothing happened to him on his way home. At the time I had no idea why I acted so paranoid. Teenagers do weird things; blame it on hormones.

Looking back, it was almost as if I was prophetically setting myself up for a fall.

Just after I turned 16 and he 14 I was hanging around with him just outside his house one morning when two girls turned up he knew. I couldn't stand them but luckily another of my mates just happened to walk past. I quickly made my excuses and ditched John and the girls, walking home with my friend pretty relieved to have escaped. The shame that surrounds this one act will haunt me for the rest of my days. I couldn't have been more than a hundred yards down the road when John started swinging on the trees outside his house. Unluckily I'd already rounded a corner, otherwise I would have seen what he was doing and stopped him. Yes I was that protective and that patronising. But like I said I was around the corner. I was probably nearly home when John jumped out of the tree, landed on his feet and overbalanced. I was probably in my house when his mother was taking him to hospital after he'd fallen over backwards, smashed his head on the concrete and fractured his skull. I got a phone call shortly afterwards to tell me what happened. I cursed myself for ditching him, knowing my being selfish had put him in hospital. At least in a couple of days he'd by fine though, no major damage done and the opportunity to joke that he was now 'brain damaged mong boy'.

Ha.

It was later on that I was out doing some errands that I walked past John's house. One of the girls from earlier ran past me, away from the house, crying. I knew something serious had happened but such was the guilt and shame of it being my fault I couldn't bring myself to knock on the door. Instead I went home and sat alone, crying my eyes out and waiting for the phone call. I remember the weather had been getting worse all day and now there was a storm building. I watched the rain streaking down the window and waited. It only took an hour. His brother rang me to tell me that John was in a bad way. A blood clot had formed on his brain and he'd been rushed to theatre. He didn't know if his brother would live or die. If he lived he might be brain damaged.

It wasn't so funny now.

One of our mutual friends knew how close I was to him and turned up almost immediately to try and take my mind of it. Just to show my age; we spent an hour playing Street Fighter II (in between taking breaks to watch the pretty storm). For every fight, no matter which characters we picked, he would be brain damage and blood clots and I would be hospitals and doctors. I beat him fifty times in a row; he never came close to winning. I'd like to think he didn't let me win but I suppose I'll never know. Eventually he had to go and I was again left with my fear and worry. Waiting for the call I wandered downstairs to sit with my parents, hoping they would ease my terror. Stupid me. Time for someone else's shame. My mother asked me why I looked upset, despite knowing full well that John was fighting for his life that very moment. I reminded her in no uncertain terms. My father responded to this by yelling at me that I couldn't be that worried as I'd been 'upstairs carrying on with your mate for an hour'. 'I heard you laughing!' he finished accusingly. I can't remember the string of expletives that flowed from my mouth then but I do remember it being quite impressive for a sixteen year old. My mother stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Seconds later I followed, tears welling, and stumbled blindly outside into the storm.

People who are lucky enough have one moment of their lives that they can look back on and say that was when I grew up, that was when I became a man, that was my rite of passage. That was mine. With that simple exchange my entire childhood fell apart before my eyes and I saw my family for the stupid, self-centered, emotion cripples they were and still are. I finally understood. The reason I'd been so close to John, so ridiculously protective was because he was my family. He was like my little brother, my son even. I was trying to be, to him, what my parents never were to me. John was the one that was there to put an arm round me when I needed it, to cheer me up when I was down, not them. He was the person I wanted to be around me. Not them.

I stood outside under that raging storm for nearly an hour, heartbroken that my revelation had come too late. It seemed to be reaching a crescendo directly over my house. The lightning was blinding and the thunder deafening. The rain lashed down hard enough to sting my eyes; the water mixing with my constant tears. I never noticed any of it. It was the eerie silence that followed a particularly loud thunderclap that made me realise I'd been shouting as I looked up at that dark sky. I'm not sure I really believed in God but I knew that other people did and that seemed to be enough. I'd gotten angry with him; screamed that I would kill myself just so I could turn up at the pearly gates with a sledgehammer and exact revenge. Then I'd begged his forgiveness. I'd pleaded with him, told him I'd do anything he wanted, told him he could have me if he let John live. There was no price I wouldn't pay. After an hour or so I'd cried all my tears and exhausted myself so I just sat down there, in the rain, and waited.

John died three times during the operation. Every time they just managed to bring him back. He kept fighting and miraculously held on throughout. It took him over a year to fully recover and I spent nearly the whole time with tears of elation in my eyes as I watched him fighting back. Slowly regaining the ability to think, then speak and finally walk again. He's 24 now and still the closest friend I'll ever have. He's sitting near me as I write this occasionally calling me a soppy get and throwing things at me. There's rarely a day goes by when he doesn't make me laugh and there's rarely a day goes by when I can resist remembering that I nearly lost him and being a really soppy get and telling him how much he means to me. Sometimes, when the fear returns suddenly and overcomes me I'll be a really, REALLY soppy get and I'll tell him I love him and grab him in a giant bear hug (you should see his face when I do it in public!)

I still don't really believe in God but I know that I owe someone, somewhere, big time. The payback makes life kinda fun. I got really ill shortly afterwards and still haven't fully recovered but every time I think about it I just smile. It's just payback to whoever I owe for this massive favour. Every time something bad happens; when I lose something, when I get passed over for promotion in my shitty dead end job, when expensive things get broken, when I stub my damn toe the shrieks of pain and anguish are always quickly replaced by grinning and laughing.

I'm just paying the bill. And it's worth every single fucking penny.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Sat 26 Nov 2005, 10:13, Reply)

How could I forget the time...
when my ex bird (megan) invited me to a party she was having so we could have a catch up and a drink together.

I ended up getting really drunk and shagging Megan's 18 year old cousin, Lucy.

Then getting in a fight with Jenny's (megan's 16 year old sister) Boyfriend, knocking his tooth out, breaking his rib and I think he may have broken a finger.

Then proceeding to perform and receive oral sex on Jenny.

Then waking up with a massive hangover to find Megan being up for it for one last time, shagging the hell out of her before legging it to get the train home.

What a great night. But Oh, the shame.

I was 15.

But it went down as legend at school when Megan told the story to all my schoolmates on MSN! Still, I don't talk to her much now. Slag.
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 10:07, Reply)

This was shameful beyond belief
I think I may have told this one on b3ta before...

But some friends and I embarked on a trip to Dublin. Our first trip abroad without our families. The date was July 14th 2005.

The flight had been quite good. Only took 30 mins from Leeds/Bradford airport and we had all been getting excited about the prospects of drinking in Dublin.

We get off to the aeroplane at 11:59am walk the 60 second walk to the terminal where we check in.

We are greeted by what my friends and I think are a bunch of boring, miserable people stood completely still looking very unhappy. My good friend Tim exclaims, rather loudly "Bloody Hell! It's like a funeral parlour in here!"

It was only when the woman next to me pointed out that they were having a minute's silence for those who had died in the London bombings exactly one week previously, that we realised why we were on the receiving end of some angered and tearful glares.

Once again, one ticket to hell please. One way!

/edit: What actually may have made this worse was at the end of the silence (considering we were in Dublin) one of my friends said something along the lines of: "You didn't have a minute's silence when YOU bombed us." ARGHH!
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 9:12, Reply)

Oh my, too many to recall but I shall try...
Well, only a few days ago, a female workfriend of mine announced that she would be leaving after Christmas because she had got a job in the police force. I held up the front page of the Yorkshire Evening Post* and said, probably louder than I should have done "I hear they have a vacancy now!"

*Yorkshire Evening Post front page: WPC Shot Dead.

Ticket to Hell please. One way!
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 9:05, Reply)

Betraying a loved one.
Way back when I was a lad of 18, I was going out with a delightful and pretty girl. She'd had a strict catholic upbringing and it is to this factor that I attribute her being up for practically anything sexual.

One night she was rimmimg me when I felt gaseous stirrings within. I quickly made a calculation: Which would give greater pleasure - a tossing-off while being anally tongued...or...?

I farted, hugely, in her mouth. She was not best pleased.

One of her friends was passing our room at the exact moment of the outrage and commented in the morning that she'd heard "a strange noise and then someone being sick or something".

In my defence I can only say that I was young and stupid. And that she was so "experimental" that it was better than odds-on that she might actually have liked it.
(apologies_for_length, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 7:43, Reply)

Oww.
Not forty seconds ago I limped in after having 17 stitches put in the back of my head. In doing so they also pulled out an inch long piece of glass from said head. This was of course because I tried to stick my head through a window without opening it first. I am a fool. The shame comes in from the hopeless emotional garbage I spouted like a freak at my mate while he was helping me home after the window incident, I am quite sure I will never be able to poke my nose out in my neck of the woods again, expressing your deepest fears and longings and spilling a large quantity of blood over a mate will do that to you. Bugger. Having said that the NHS were very nice to me and gave me a cup of tea so go them, they rock.
(mrbastard, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 5:02, Reply)

Best....(simple the)
I've made about £30 out of him dying from the works death pool.

Feel a bit guilty.....but am sure the one minute silences at all football matches will erode this. After all, all those millions who died in the war get that (unless you are a beheaded scouser then you get 3), so why not Georgie?
(The first inch is the hardest, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 4:59, Reply)

Sacrilicious!
Back in my day, school lunchtimes involved sitting quietly in a classroom with your classmates, in your usual places, and eating sandwiches.

Not being a religious chap, my shameful hobby was convenienced by two facts: my father was a chef, and my place to sit was in front of the bookshelf near the back, in the religious studies room. I'm afraid I used to slip items of food between the pages of bibles while no one was looking. Cucumber, tomato, lettuce, cheese slices, ham, banana, gherkins, jam, crabsticks etc... even smoked vennison one time. I used to encourage my father to make sandwiches that might contain ingredients I had specifically intended to go on god's menu. This went on for several years and stopped when I reached the age of 13 and my ultimate goal of fitting an entire club sandwich (bread and all) within Corinthians (I also left for another school).

I was never caught and I'd never even heard any of the teachers mention it let alone complain about the awful smell, so I could only assume that the years of food I'd packed into the dusty old tomes were still there. Jesus could have fed a fair few on that lot, I expect.

Actually... I'm not ashamed at all... I'm proud. go me.
(dazsnow the "ever amazing" - cowjam said so once, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 1:37, Reply)

Never judge a book by it's cover...
The only really shameful thing I did that I can remember at the minute happened in work a few weeks ago.

This guy came in, and his forehead looked a bit weird. I just thought he was ugly. When I said to a colleague "Looks like he fell out of the ugly tree and hit all the branches on the way down", she responded by telling me he used to live near her. It was a deformity from birth and he was bullied really, really badly for it.

Cue complete shame and me feeling like an utter cunt for it. I still feel bad. Luckily I did get completely hammered after work that night so it's not quite so bad.
(wraithUK, Sat 26 Nov 2005, 0:29, Reply)

Playground!
Well me and the GF got the urge going past a playground. Well we saw those things based on a huge spring and just had to try it out. was ace. thew the condom in a bush. Felt guilty the next day but not that guilty as GF as GF was fit as hell.
(maximcondor, Fri 25 Nov 2005, 23:45, Reply)

Shame, You Say?
I wish my name was a bit more anonymyous or that god had granted me a conciounce -

1) 14 years old and promised a man who had learning disabilities and was genrelly just a window licker that i would marry him if he bought me nad my frineds our carry out for the weekend. He spent his entire weeks disability allowance on us. His carer phoned the police on us eventually.

2) Screing over a girl that i know bby slepeing with her bf for the last threee years. then they split up and he has a new bird and im still seeing him

3) Sex in a graveyard/Church/Primary school/Secondary school/Nightclub Toilets etc.

4) Putting wagers on when the pope would die.

5)This is defintly the worst - There was this girl who i hated with a passion who started going out with my ex. She was a virgin and wouldnt sleep with him untilhe had an std test. Few months later i found out some dirty bastard had given me the clap and she foiund out and told everybody. So i shagged my ex, then he shagged her and she got it.

5) Tripping up they do gooders who try and get you to donate cash to charitys.

6) When losing said virginty, bleeding all over the boy. I mean ALLLL over. I still cringe.

7) Oh and playing chap door run on the local "Assisted living centre" - Eg, Mental Asylum that had individual houses for the patients. One of them was called "Cool-it" cus she always used to shout that at us. She ended up dying of a heat attack casued by stress. I knew it was my fault all along and i STILL have nightmares.
(StrangeKristine, Fri 25 Nov 2005, 22:30, Reply)

Ahem.
Not sure I should say really. I've bullied people for no reason, then befriended them when away from my mates. I've used people online as stress relief and I've lied through my teeth to get attention online (funnily enough, I'm a much nicer guy offline and I don't try to get attention). I've built people's hopes up on countless occasions then left them for dead. I've done things that I'm too ashamed of to post here. I think I'm slightly schizophrenic... I suck.

That said, I think I'm a much better and nicer person for it. I tend to bury my guilt and redeem myself in future actions rather than apologising.

Oh and: www.b3ta.com/questions/shame/post44085/ Yes, you are a cunt.
(Catfish Ma, why can't I draw? "Because you have fins dear", Fri 25 Nov 2005, 22:10, Reply)