Shoplifting
When I was young and impressionable and on holiday in France, I followed some friends into a sweet shop and we each stole something. I was so mortified by this, I returned them.
My lack of French hampered this somewhat - they had no idea why the small English boy wanted to add some chews to the open box, and saw it as an attempt by a nasty foreigner oik to contaminate their stock. Not my best day.
What have you lifted?
( , Thu 10 Jan 2008, 11:13)
When I was young and impressionable and on holiday in France, I followed some friends into a sweet shop and we each stole something. I was so mortified by this, I returned them.
My lack of French hampered this somewhat - they had no idea why the small English boy wanted to add some chews to the open box, and saw it as an attempt by a nasty foreigner oik to contaminate their stock. Not my best day.
What have you lifted?
( , Thu 10 Jan 2008, 11:13)
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Anxiety Porn
This is a rather embarrasing tale for my first post but alas it is the only time I've shoplifted.
I went on my first holiday to Spain with my family when I was around 13/14. Indeed, it was around this time that I noticed a temporary euphoria whilst trying to tear off a particular body part.
I had spent about a week of the holiday surrounded by my family so it was impossible to abuse myself. One day I caught/ate something that made me sick. My family had booked a bus trip somewhere so I insisted that they go whilst I stayed in bed. After a few hours I felt slightly better and saw an opportunity present itself.
However, I wanted to put a bit of effort into this one as it might have been my only chance during the two week period. I had noticed our slightly more liberal European cousins had a variety of softcore porn available in almost every shop. I headed out with a pocket full of cash ready to purchase my first piece of pornography. I was slightly nervous walking into the shop but being in a foreign country gave me a confidence boost.
Despite this I still hid my selected magazine in a basket full of Fanta, Lays crisps and Chubba Chub lollies. Whilst I was waiting in the queue I noticed an English guy the same age as me purchasing a pack of cards. There appeared to be a problem with this particular transaction. On further inspection I realised the old Spanish lady behind the till was pointing at the lovely breasts that decorated the cards. She then shouted at my comrade in hands and threw him out of the shop.
I started to panic and quickly jogged around to another aisle. I was a desperate young man and had just seen my best chance of momentary happiness being shot down in flames. Fuelled by anxiety and anticipation I shoved the magazine down the back of my shorts and headed back towards the till. As I approached I started to feel sick again. My legs started to go weak and my head light. I could feel every set of eyes on me and my anxiety grew so much that my breathing was suffering. I tried to focus in on the beeps of each item being scanned but it was no good. I managed not to faint but had to run outside and be sick before collapsing on the steps outside.
The old Spanish lady took pity on me and didn't charge me for any of my stuff. I remember thinking how nice a person she was as I headed off back to my hotel room. It wasn't until I got back and sat down on a seat that I remembered I had solid gold in my pants (boom boom). The guilt of my theft lasted about five seconds... rougly the same time it took me to do a naked strip run to the bathroom.
The last laugh was on her though as I eventually passed out on the toilet seat and cracked my head on the sink.
Length? 8 stitches above my left eye.
I haven't stolen anything since.
( , Sun 13 Jan 2008, 6:22, 1 reply)
This is a rather embarrasing tale for my first post but alas it is the only time I've shoplifted.
I went on my first holiday to Spain with my family when I was around 13/14. Indeed, it was around this time that I noticed a temporary euphoria whilst trying to tear off a particular body part.
I had spent about a week of the holiday surrounded by my family so it was impossible to abuse myself. One day I caught/ate something that made me sick. My family had booked a bus trip somewhere so I insisted that they go whilst I stayed in bed. After a few hours I felt slightly better and saw an opportunity present itself.
However, I wanted to put a bit of effort into this one as it might have been my only chance during the two week period. I had noticed our slightly more liberal European cousins had a variety of softcore porn available in almost every shop. I headed out with a pocket full of cash ready to purchase my first piece of pornography. I was slightly nervous walking into the shop but being in a foreign country gave me a confidence boost.
Despite this I still hid my selected magazine in a basket full of Fanta, Lays crisps and Chubba Chub lollies. Whilst I was waiting in the queue I noticed an English guy the same age as me purchasing a pack of cards. There appeared to be a problem with this particular transaction. On further inspection I realised the old Spanish lady behind the till was pointing at the lovely breasts that decorated the cards. She then shouted at my comrade in hands and threw him out of the shop.
I started to panic and quickly jogged around to another aisle. I was a desperate young man and had just seen my best chance of momentary happiness being shot down in flames. Fuelled by anxiety and anticipation I shoved the magazine down the back of my shorts and headed back towards the till. As I approached I started to feel sick again. My legs started to go weak and my head light. I could feel every set of eyes on me and my anxiety grew so much that my breathing was suffering. I tried to focus in on the beeps of each item being scanned but it was no good. I managed not to faint but had to run outside and be sick before collapsing on the steps outside.
The old Spanish lady took pity on me and didn't charge me for any of my stuff. I remember thinking how nice a person she was as I headed off back to my hotel room. It wasn't until I got back and sat down on a seat that I remembered I had solid gold in my pants (boom boom). The guilt of my theft lasted about five seconds... rougly the same time it took me to do a naked strip run to the bathroom.
The last laugh was on her though as I eventually passed out on the toilet seat and cracked my head on the sink.
Length? 8 stitches above my left eye.
I haven't stolen anything since.
( , Sun 13 Jan 2008, 6:22, 1 reply)
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