Trannybo
I am more of the email generation and wasn’t really down with the Facebook and Bebo thing until my mates pestered me to join Bebo.

So I join, and I hunt for people that I know etc. A few days later surfing around I thought I would look for some cousins and my sister.

I find a cousin, and I find my sister.

Now my sister is called ‘Jo’, and my cousin is called ‘Joe’. Both are obviously shortened versions of their real names of Joanne and Joseph. They have the same surnames as my cousin was from the paternal side.

So I click on ‘Jo’ and it is someone else, not my sister. Fine.

Then I click on ‘Joe’ and find my sisters face on the page. My brain didn’t process it for a minute, until I looked at the picture again. It was my sister, but she was wearing a suit and tie and some sort of wig or had done her hair up with an uncharacteristic side parting.

How very odd I think, but I reasoned that it must be some sort of fancy dress thing. Student japery. I request that we be friends and leave it at that. I also send a text message to her jokingly referring to her as ‘Joe’.

Five minutes later I get a phone call from my hysterical weeping sister begging me not to tell our parents.

“Eh? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Please don’t tell them I want to be a man!”

“……”

Christmas 2007 was interesting.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Thu 11 Sep 2008, 14:59, 7 replies)

A guy in work
was remotely accessing his computer through a website called Logmein (not that bad a site, most probs better ones out there but hey ho). He was keeping an eye on some downloads when his pre-teen daughter starts using his computer in the house. She's got no idea by the way that her dad is in her office and is watching everything she is clicking on an typing by the way; she just thinks he's left his computer on to download. So she fires up MSN Messenger and starts chatting to one of her friends, all of which is being witnessed by dad in work.
After about 5 minutes of talking about bollocks, dad is a bit bored, so he decides to have a laugh. As his daughter is typing away merrily on MSN he starts typing gibberish on his own office keyboard and it adds a load of jumble onto the message she was about to send. She deletes all of this then types to her friend "I think my computer has a virus" then sends it. Her dad however, slowly types into the Messenger box "NO IT DOESN'T."
Apparently the screen went off in about 10 seconds flat and when he got home from work later that night he found her hiding in her bedroom, cowering under the duvet.
Now that's fucking parenting :D
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Thu 11 Sep 2008, 16:09, 8 replies)

My parents
recently signed up for Friends Reunited and Facebook. No big deal really, they stay out in the country so may do them some good to make new friends.

Anyway last time I was down visiting my folks I needed to check my emails (or possibly B3ta) so I excused myself and went to use their computer.

As I sat down at the computer I realised they had left the thing on with the browser open on their last viewed page. Not wanting to be nosey I immediately moved the mouse to shut down the page...it was only then something caught my eye.

Now you know when you're skimming through a magazine or newspaper and something jumps out and grabs you attention. Well it was like that. Kind of. Except the words that jumped out were "Horny Transvestite" and "a girl just wants to have fun".

Turns out, old father dearest had been masquerading as a transsexual on the internet and even posted photographs of himself in drag.

Now it was bad enough when I accidentally saw my mum in her undies when I was 6 but fucking horrific when I saw my dad in my mums undies 15 years later. According to him it was just a bit of fun but I shouldn't tell anyone "just in case".

It only dawned me a few months later somebody must have taken the photos as he was unable to set the timer on the camera...turns out my mum was in on it too.

And that, dear readers, is how I found out my parents are swingers. God bless Social fucking networking.


*Runs away to hide from the memories*
(Holy Cremola Foam Batman will be back on, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 14:00, 4 replies)

Not sure where to start with this one so I’ll just blurt it out….

I found my natural mother via Friends Reunited.

The story, (in case you’re interested but a much shortened down version)

I was adopted by my Mum and Dad (who I class as my real parents) from birth and have had a great life to tell the truth.

My Mum and Dad have never kept it from me that they weren’t my ‘Natural’ parents and they always supported me every time I showed and interest in tracing my natural mother, this only happened a few times during my life though but they even tried to help me whenever possible, in fact they even gave me all the paperwork that they had from when they adopted me, so I knew real details like my natural mothers name.

Anyway to cut to the chase, I was messing around on friends reunited and typed her name in and well, bugger me it came up! I knew it was her because there were certain details that matched like age, school, hoped profession.

So I sat there (at work) on some shitty Windows Millennium Pc staring at it thinking ‘Well Fuck Me!’ I never expected that to come up.

So I did what any normal person would do and typed her a message (after joining the site so I could send one).

I wanted to respect the fact that her life would have changed a lot so I kept it as vague as possible in case someone else read it. Something along the lines of:

‘Hi, I last saw you about 26 years ago at ****** hospital, how’s things, bit about me etc etc… hope this get to you ok and feel free to message me back when you pick yourself up off the floor’

I figured this would be obvious to her who I was but no-one else.

But I couldn’t send it, I had the mouse over the send button but my hand wasn’t on it, not that it needed to be because one of the lads at work ‘Gareth’ pressed it for me! Cheers mate!

Well I got a reply within 24 hrs saying she was shocked and happy and all mixed up, so was I!

Anyway short version as promised – we met up, and I found out that I have 2 other Sisters and a Brother along with Nieces, Nephews, Aunties, Uncles and Cousins I suppose things have been going well over the past 7/8 years, we sort of keep in touch after the initial whirlwind of meeting everyone.

I’ve never asked about my natural Father, never really bothered me meeting him although the older I get (34 in 3 weeks), the more of an urge I get to trace him, maybe it’s me wanting to know if I’ll go bald or the big ‘C’ or something??!

I know his name and age, so if anyone has any good ways to trace then Gaz me.

Through all this my Mum and Dad have stood by me and supported me going through some very strange emotions guilt being a good one! and I’d like to thank them for that (well, I already have)

Well there you go really, that’s it.

Thanks, Friends Reunited.

(Sorry for length)


(Kip, Tue 16 Sep 2008, 13:09, 9 replies)

Butterface
This was just last weekend.

I'm idly tapping away at the computer when I get a text from my drinking buddy Neil.

"I'm in The Lion with Karen if you fancy a pint"

"Who's Karen?", I replied.

"Girl from work. She's sound but a butterface"

"What on Earth is a butterface?"

"Everything about her's nice but her face. Now - are you coming or not?"

I'm very childish and this new phrase filled me with glee. So much so that before going out I changed my Facebook status to "Jimlad is off for a pint with Neil and a butterface", and off I went.

It turned into a great evening and we ended up doing a pub crawl, club and curryhouse. Karen was lovely and, whilst never likely to grace the pages of Vogue, certainly not deserving of the 'butterface' branding.

Being the geek that I am I was straight on the computer when I got in and sure enough there's Karen amongst Neil's Facebook friends list. Friend request sent, off to bed.

Next afternoon and back online, Karen's accepted my friend request. "Yays!", think I and attend to a few other notifications before getting back to her. But hold on, Karen has also wrote on my wall.

"Hey Jimlad! Great night last night. But what's a butterface?"

Shit. The status update.

She deleted both me and Neil shortly afterward. Oops.
(R. Jimlad twitter.com/sirmarkymark, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 18:36, 14 replies)

Emil Minty
Online social networking gaffes be fucked. I can cock things up in the old fashioned way.

One of my worst was when I had a paper published in a reasonably respected journal and was invited to present at an international conference. I was young, this was the first academic paper I had ever written (beyond assignments), and it was, to be honest, a buzz. I was very nervous leading up to the event. I was due to present in the late afternoon and I had a sleepless night and a very uncomfortable day. I may have vomited, but that could be a false memory. I was shitting myself though. Anyway, my time came to present, I got up, I spoke well, I fielded the questions, I sat down. And once that was over I was on cloud nine. Teh win!1! I felt fucking great.

It was quite a ‘big deal’ this conference and that evening there was a harbour cruise for 150 or so dignitaries. As I was a presenter I got an invite. On the boat I quaffed a few happy juices and chatted and had a few more. I was on a huge natural high and in addition the tins were sliding down well. After a while I needed to empty my bladder so I made my way to the loo. As I was moving through the obstacles the Dean of my school, the highly respected person who had very recently secured a scholarship for me to do my Ph.D., caught my arm and manoeuvred me to his table. Seated at the table were half a dozen males and females I didn’t know, but they were obviously the Gods in this environment. The Dean presents me to this group and mentions my paper and lecture/speech. Nods all round. Then the Dean says what no person should say when introducing a nervous young man to a group of his significant betters... ‘Mime will know a good joke for us’.

Evidently these folk had been telling yarns and enjoying themselves, and now the pressure was on for me to amuse them. I hate that at the best of times, but it is dangerous when someone is half full of beer, half full of natural high, and young, naive and way out of their depth. Personally, I’m just not built to cope. I tried to do the right thing with ‘I can’t think of one’ but that was met with pretend jeers and mild scorn from this small group of folk who dream in algebra and invent new letters for the alphabet. So I feebly admitted that I did know one joke, but it wasn’t appropriate. It was my favourite joke at the time, and honestly it was the only joke I could think of. This small group, all well at the sunset of their esteemed careers, and probably (from the vantage point of many years of reflection) slightly tiddly, insisted I share it. In my defence I did say I didn’t want to tell any jokes, that the only joke I could recall was racist, very offensive and inappropriate, and I really just needed a pee. But they were insistent. I did warn them once more, but... So I started the joke, saying:

Do you remember the Mad Max films? Do you remember the third one; Beyond The Thunderdome? You know how Mel Gibson and Tina Turner star together? Well, apparently once the filming was finished there was a massive after-party and everyone drank too much. Later in the night Mel and Tina ended up in the same hotel room, and they made passionate love. Afterwards they are lying there gasping, sweat running off them, and Tina says ‘Mel, you are a fantastic lover. Please, let’s do that again’. Mel says ‘Tina, you are a wonderful lover too, so sexy and energetic. I’d love to do it again. But please understand I am getting on in years and I need some rest between sex sessions. And while I am asleep I want you to hold onto my penis with both hands’. Tina thinks this is very strange, but she is eager for another steamy session so she complies.

Might I add at this point... I did a visual audience check, and they are all engaged, eyes locked on, leaning forward, focused. I had not been swearing, I’d been keeping things in check, civilised even. So I proceed...

So Mel wakes up after his sleep and jumps back on Tina, and they have wonderful sex for a few hours. Fantastic sex, well timed, and perfectly intimate. And afterwards they are both lying there panting, and Tina says ‘Mel, you are a superb lover. Please, please, let’s do that again’. Mel says ‘Tina, you are a great lover too and I’d love to do it again. But please understand I am not as young as I used to be, and I need some rest between sex sessions. While I am asleep I want you to hold onto my penis with both hands’. Tina again thinks this is odd, but she does it anyway.

Once again I check the small audience of silver headed boffins. I think its going well, and I am on a roll now anyway.

After a while Mel awakens and they get back into it. This time the lovemaking is so intense and fiercely intimate that they are bruised at the end of it, strained and drained. They collapse in each others’ arms. Tina, trembling, mumbles ‘Oh Mel, that was the best sex I have ever had. Please, please... just once more’. Mel says ‘Ok Tina. I really enjoyed that too. I am keen for another session. But you know the drill... I need some rest, and while I am recuperating you have to hold my penis with both hands’.

Tina is really perplexed with this strange request so she says ‘Mel, you are without doubt the world’s best lover, and I understand you are getting a bit older and you need some rest between sex sessions, but I really don’t understand why I need to hold your penis with both hands while you are asleep. What is that all about?’

And Mel says ‘Well Tina, the last black bitch I fucked stole my wallet’



Tumbleweed.


I remember a voice in the grey audience saying, deadpan, ‘That’s not funny’

‘Sorry’ I said.

And went and had the pee I had set out to have.

Fucksocks.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 12:14, 6 replies)

In the early days of MySpace, when I hadn't yet realized how juvenile and useless everyone on it was,
I was invited to an all-around party thing in downtown Chicago by a group of classmates - eight of us total. The plan was to paint the town red in a manner befitting timid first-year art students, which is to say that we would go to the beach and the zoo, and maybe have a good deep dish pizza.

Having only a cursory knowledge of one another, it didn't become apparent until later in the evening that one among us was not our kind. In fact, a young man named Rod - clearly five years our superior - had infiltrated our MySpace group, masquerading as a fellow student. He was alright at first, even paid for dinner, but after having a few drinks down his neck he started to get a bit...wild. For our tastes. For his opening act on the beach, he harvested a healthy crop of wild shellfish found clinging to a rock, and promptly ate them raw.

DEAR GOD. This was lake Michigan, and we were right by the city runoff pipe.

"Yea-heah! I fuckin' LOVE MYSPACE!" he exclaimed, mouth dribbling with black slime, "I fuckin' love you guys!"

Stuffing the remains down his trousers, he followed us to the zoo, unaware that we were trying to escape his madness. It might also have been the fact that with a belly full of rum and sewage-laced mollusks, he was now a walking time bomb. A walking time bomb with fifty shells in his pants that jingled as he walked, as if he'd just shat out a small treasury.

Our efforts to avoid him were in vain, as he followed us around the zoo, belching and making up facts about the animals.

"Eighteen thousand children are killed each year by macaques. It's India's leading cause of infant mortality."

This man was a nut. Plain and simple. He wasn't being funny or ironic, he was just insane. We reached the giraffe enclosure and something horrible happened. As he shouted and slapped the poor animals' noses, the foul chemistry within his gut reached critical mass. No, he didn't vomit. Rather, somehow the chemical constituents of rotting seafood and alcohol had reacted in such a way as to produce a perfect giraffe aphrodisiac. A giraphrodisiac.

The giraffes became aroused, and our new friend, cackling louder than the hyenas, reached through the bars to perform a vile deed on the nearest one.

Yes, it was the sea shell nut wanking giraffes.
( Digeridude Lord Wellington's Beef Trapeze, Tue 16 Sep 2008, 17:15, 10 replies)

Hi Honey!
Just wanted to let you know I've phoned NHS Direct and it turns out that discharge I keep getting isn't catching, but apparently we should avoid oral sex for at least 6 weeks. Oops! That might explain those sores you've been getting, lol!

Also I've bought you the Immodium you asked for, but I can't find anywhere that sells adult nappies.


The new QOTW on B3ta is "Social Networking Gaffes", I've been trying to think of a good story for ages but I can't think of anything suitable, so I thought I'd send you a quick message in the meantime. Anyway, fuck 'em, you keep telling me they're just a bunch of geeks and pretentious loners after all, lol!


Can't wait to see you later, snookiewooks, I fancy a bit of felching tonight, and maybe you could give me a rusty trombone the way you like.

Wuv you

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
(LLPaulJ 's momma said knock you out, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 15:20, 8 replies)

Some years ago..
While still at school I ended up getting into a fight with the school bully and ended up throwing a book at his face. It was only years later that I realised how frighteningly close to a multi-billion dollar concept I was.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 9:58, 6 replies)

Back in the days
Before I had 3 dimensional, real friends, I was something of a Facewhore-whore. In a totally unrelated state of affairs, I was extremely fond of a young lady I knew who lived in Lancaster. We'd met very briefly in the summer and got on famously, and she'd invited me up to stay with her and her mum for a couple of weeks. Truth be told I didn't expect anything to happen between us as she was proper, magazine-y type gorgeous and I was something of a buffalo. But still, it would be nice to do a little travel and socialising.

So in the months between summer and Christmas I'd spend a lot of time on the site, talking with various people, including an older lady who I couldn't help but fancy in a very materialistic way.

We got chatting and much flirting did ensue, followed by her sending me some rather explicit photos of herself. All was well in the world, until one day my mind had to go and wander...

After talking to this older lady on the phone I noticed she had a northern accent.

"Do you live up North?" I ask.

"Yeah, in Lancaster".

"Oh right, cool! I know someone up there, I'm going to see them at Xmas."

"Oh right. Which bit of Lancaster do they live in?"

"They live in xxx (I forget)".

"Me too!"

"What's her name?"

"(Fake forename) Newton".

"No way! My surname is Newton!"

Oh christing fuck, it was her mother.

I still went up there at Xmas. I lasted just over a day before faking a phonecall that my dad had been terribly hurt in a car crash and I had to leave. Not a nice lie but I was desperate.

Yes, hellbound, I know.
(GONEism, Thu 11 Sep 2008, 14:46, 19 replies)

Gumtree
Not sure if this counts.

My missus read in one of her "wimmin's" mags about how some rough old slapper gets regular deep-dick action by advertising where she'll be on business and when she'll be available for a piping. I pointed out this would only work for a woman. The wife disagrees.

And so the experiment started. We placed adverts on Gumtree - one "woman seeks man"; one "man seeks woman" and one "couple seeks other", just for shits and giggles - each one stating "picture garuntees response". We then waited for the replies to roll in.

Though we didn't have to wait long. The "woman seeks man" advert got four responses within 20 minutes, which I thought was slightly strange considering we posted the advert a little before midnight on December 30th. By the morning, the inbox of the fake email address we used was stuffed with cocks, hundreds of the things. Plus some of the pictures of said love-lengths showed them being used in slightly unusual ways.

After a few minutes of checking out the weird replies, I felt more than a little sick. Not least by my wife looking at one picture and uttering the phrase "you wouldn't shag him, he's got crap wallpaper".

I was right, though. The "man seeking woman" only got "are you sure you're after a woman?" type replies. And more pictures of cocks.
(ScousersPet, Tue 16 Sep 2008, 13:42, 6 replies)

Dont let your nan join facebook
My nan is quite an internet savvy lady, she's mastered emails (she lives out in Spain so uses it to keep in touch with us younguns) booking holidays online and she no longer needs to call out the IT engineer when MSN pops up (Nan: can they see me when theyre writing? Me: no nan its like really quick emails)

Alas she was keen to join in facebook after some cousins mentionned to her about all the photos etc on there. The next time said cousins went out there they allowed the most retarded one (honestly its like letting a donkey wear a dress) set up a profile for dear old nan. Her name is Mrs Cox. What did retard set her up as?

Nanny Cocks

Imagine logging into your email and seeing that "Nanny Cocks has requested to be your friend" horrifying. Whats even worse? the profile was wide open to everyone (interesting and congratulatory wall postings abounded) and no one could log in on her behalf to change it as she wouldnt give up the password incase we "changed her letters and emails".

My brother went out there in August and thankfully my nan has been restored to her true name and is no longer a Cock Nan.
(Fizzylegs cant find the time to pluck, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 17:38, 3 replies)

Open mouth, insert... something
One of the women at work was nattering on about her kids and how she vets internet sites before she allows them to join. I'm nodding and "Mm-hm?"ing and not really paying attention.

"They want to join a party site, I forget what it's called now but I need to check it - is it faceparty?"

"No, you're thinking of lemonparty."

I got a bit of a shouting at the following day. I mean, it's not like she doesn't KNOW I'm a complete bastard.
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 7:55, 7 replies)

Search bar or Status bar?
OK the new Facebook. A lot of people are moaning about it. I think its OK except my biggest gripe. Which is probably my own stupidiy. But I keep typing searches into my status bar.

So yes now everyone knows who i'm stalking.

God damnit!
(Miggyman, Fri 12 Sep 2008, 16:47, 4 replies)

Outed by Facebook
Our story begins some time last year. I came out of my house in the morning to go to work, to notice a large dent in the wheel arch of my car parked across the street. Evidently someone who was turning in the road, probably to use the postbox by my house, had pranged my car and decided that they were above leaving their details to arrange recompense.

Anyway, I arrive at work still seething, and decided to vent my spleen by posting a Facebook note complete with photos. As my rant built up to a crescendo I suggested that I was fed up with this country and would be looking to leave for Australia or Canada and invited comments and suggestions on that subject.

Now, my friends instead decided to start suggesting that I'd enjoy the view over the Aussie beaches of all the hot guys in speedos, or all the strapping mounties in Canada etc. As one of the gays I consider myself fair game for such comments, but I'd forgotten an important point. Facebook isn't limited to my geeky friends; and whilst I don't consider myself in the closet, I'd not quite worked out how to start the conversation with either of the sets of parents instead opting for the spineless option of waiting until they mentioned it.

So, I was somewhat mortified when this reply to my friends replies appeared on my note:

Friend #1
Canada is full of strapping Mounties

Friend #2
Canada and Australia both are much better sources of "hot men" than here in the UK but at the same time it would be sad to see you leave :(

Friend #3
... Try netherlands I hear they have blonde boys ;)

Stepmum
Joe! Is there anything you want to tell us?

Me (by private message response)
Want to tell you? No not really. Should really tell you? yeah...

So there we go; I was outed to my parents by social networking sites.

EPILOGUE: It transpired that they'd suspected as much but didn't want to ask me because they didn't think it was really their business. It probably doesn't help that I'm comparitively butch (or at least I don't run around in pink hot pants screaming and flailing my arms around). They're very cool about it all and everything is good. Yay for cool parents!
(Joey[kins], Fri 12 Sep 2008, 9:27, 5 replies)

I must be the only web monkey who hates FaceBook...
I work in T'internet related fields, I use the net for a large proportion of my leisure time and I still loathe Facebook. And Myspace.

I think the problem is that Facebook especially promotes a level of narcissism that is rarely seen outside the realms of a Hollywood Diva. I mean, why should I give a toss what a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-and-acquiantance-of-a-work-colleague is up to? I barely give a toss about what I'm doing, so what in god's name makes you think I care about your sad, trivial existence?!

And the applications. Oh god, the sodding applications. In one week, I've been sent Care Bears, Pirate names, a Pillow fight, fifteen quizzes, four crap games and the option to find out how kinky I am. Why? For the love of god, why? Don't poke me. If you aren't actually my wife and you poked me in the pub, it'd end badly for , so why do people think it's ok to annoy to shit out of me online?

I don't want a constant drip-feed of your activities - "barry is taking a shit", or "sandra is having a PMS day", etc - if I care enough to give a rats' ass about what you're up to, I'll call, or meet you, or email you and ask - that way we can have what we in the human race call a "conversation".

I'm tired of the inanity and I am glad that more and more workplaces are banning access to facebook. If they can only work on stopping ignorant mouth-breathers from playing music on their phones on public transport, I'd be a happy man!

/rant

p.s my Social Networking Gaffe is that whilst hating the pointless vacuity of Facebook, I firmly advocate the use of forums and social networks for groups of people with an actual interest to share (i.e fan sites, etc) - it's the lack of actual interesting content on Facebook that drives me insane...
(Chad, Wed 17 Sep 2008, 15:19, 13 replies)

ARGH!
Just upgraded to new facebook, and I've discovered the evil behind it!



It's teh Quo!
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Tue 16 Sep 2008, 17:06, 4 replies)

The Flaw of Hotmail...
I have a friend called Alex who when he isn't shagging every bird he can get his shropshire mits on, travels the world on a cruise ship for his course placement experience.

A lovely lad he is, keeping in touch with numerous emails and photographs of 'mint beaches' and 'well-up-for-it-fanny'... needless to say, his mails are a refreshing change from Amazon's deal of the week and the latest breakthrough from CheapErecto.com.

This boy's address book is lengthy, and with every week's mattress conquests- extends by a few extra names and emails.

Now hotmail has a handy feature in the address book- allowing Nicknames for each email to be saved to aid with the name/mail matching up- Unfortunately for Alex he was unaware that his handy little 'reminder names' appeared at the top of the email - readily available for each recipient to see...

Highlights included "Kirsty Bus-Face", "Sand", "Up the bum" and "Mintest Fanny in the world".
( the dalai farmer always likes tea, but especially on, Tue 16 Sep 2008, 1:59, Reply)

Oops
On Facebook I accidently pressed the wrong button and left the group "I have never had sex with a goat"

Try explaining that one to the missus
(casuist, Thu 11 Sep 2008, 15:33, 1 reply)

I went onto match.com
Ever been on there? It's really an interesting experience. I signed up, put up pictures, started scanning the women in my area and sending "winks" to them. The result? Absolute silence.

Then about two days later I checked back in, and found winks in my inbox- not from anyone I had sent them to, but from other women. So that's how it works, I thought- instead of me approaching them, I need to wait for them to approach me. Well, now that I know the rules...

I responded to any who looked to be interesting and had a reasonable vocabulary. Sorry, but I'm something of a snob in this regard... Anyway, I chatted up a vast number of women. I got a lot of email addresses and phone numbers, then started phoning. Loads more chatting. Dozens of photos. No, sorry, I hate Whitney Houston and Celine Dion. Yes, I do love to have dinners in. I drive a ten year old car that shows its age, sorry. Yes, I know that restaurant- it's quite nice.

Forward a week and I'm meeting some of them for the first time. Some had used rather old pictures, evidently- either that or Dorian Gray had been using them instead of a painting. Some had the manners of a dock worker. But then there were the ones that were reasonably pretty and fit who seemed genuinely nice, and were interested in this blond haired guy with the slightly odd accent.

Over the next month I don't think I spent more than one or two nights in my own bed. I was fed like royalty, had a warm and willing companion every night, and generally felt like a rock star.

Only one little problem- I started getting a bit tired and started getting confused. Eight women at one time is a lot to juggle. I slipped here and there, but was able to recover pretty quickly. I took to keeping a notebook in my car, with a couple of pages dedicated to each one where I could write down important things like what restaurants we had been to and what we had done together.

Then one night I was in a restaurant with Janine when Karen showed up for an after work drink. The scene that ensued brought us to the attention of Margaret, who happened to be having dinner with a girlfriend across the restaurant.

In the end I paid for Janine's dinner and my own, as well as for the broken glasses and plates. I avoided legal trouble and was not barred from there, but have never gone back.

It didn't take long for me to drift away from the others, really. I eventually narrowed it down to one who I dated for about a year, but then somehow she got word of that night.

I'm still finding shards of that wine bottle and glasses.

Feck.

EDIT: I should add here that it really was not my intention initially to be playing the field quite that much- I just couldn't decide on who I liked best. Not that this really justifies my actions- in retrospect it really was poor behavior on my part- but hopefully it gives a little better perspective on things. I'm really not that much of a git.
(Shimrod, Thu 11 Sep 2008, 14:52, 11 replies)

Don't announce to the world what you're doing
when your dad has a myspace page.
Especially when you're underage and are planning on getting "drunk as fuck" and "having hot horny sex" with your boyfriend.
And then lying to your dad about where you are.
And then being surprised when dad asks you how the "hot horny sex" is going!

I'm still laughing at the look on her face when she came home.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Tue 16 Sep 2008, 16:22, 9 replies)

Pictoral evidence of the common social gaffes that are dating profiles
Following on from my list of rules over the page, I made this!

A ghastly and bewildering parade of How Not To Do It


Worthy of a post in its own right, I feel.

Stay til the end, I saved the best til last :)

(There's about 24 pics... more where that came from but enough's enough).

EDIT: enough isn't enough. Part 2 now here, with added goodness
( warmfuzzies Isn't here, Mon 15 Sep 2008, 20:38, 22 replies)

Kim Adams
A while ago me and a mate hatched a social experiment, find a picture of an average-looking girl online, make up a fake profile on Facebook , leave it dormant and see what happens. There were only 2 rules;
1) We weren't allowed to initiate contact with anyone.
2) Rip the piss out of anyone who messaged.

Fake Kim Adams now has 53 deviant and lonely friends, most of whom don't seem to understand that someone who regularly posts "doesn't exist" as her status updates and tears it out of them whenever they message her might not be all she seems to be. I might put some of the messages into a book one day.

Just a couple to whet your appetite;

"hey saw ur profile and wondered if u fancied a drink some time ! im james from xxxxxx just back from uni for x mas ! x"
"Sorry but I'm on at the moment and bleeding like a stuck pig."

and the african student , who despite me saying "Sorry, but I'm,like, a really big racist, like in the BNP , the KKK and everything, I don't think it would work :( " and , "you aint one of them africans like who is pretending to be the lawyer of the late president mbangwa who has $50,000,000 to give me if i give u my bank details ?" still wanted to meet for a drink.

Teh Interweb isn't safe !! Go outside !!!
(sheps, Thu 11 Sep 2008, 17:57, Reply)

I've posted this story before
and it involves me being quite a tit.

Once, I was so tired of the relationship I was in. Really tired - she was far too immature at times, was boring to talk to and the sex wasn't brilliant.

Despite the fact I lived in Newcastle and she lived 200 miles South didn't seem to put a strain on the relationship at all. She phoned me at 2am to talk about recent films that she'd seen.

I tried having "the talk", but she never seemed to accept that I was trying to break up with her.

You know what I did? The single most cuntish thing I've ever done in my life.

I hacked into her Facebook and set her status to "single".

Next time she phoned me, I acted like I was pissed off that she did this without telling me first, and "if she wanted to end the relationship, she could have warned me first". This led to her being very confused, saying that she didn't do this act, which got me to pretend to be even more pissed off.

So that's how you dump a girl who won't stay dumped. Just confuse the fuck out of her.
( __, Thu 11 Sep 2008, 14:37, 4 replies)

grooming
I use social networks for grooming. That's to say, I look at the photos to see what young people look like. If they've got particularly nice ribbons in their hair, or a nice fringe or whatever, I ask them about such things. "Where do you get your ribbons...have you got any body hair etc." Sometimes we get chatting about other things as well, like puberty or Bratz or Warhammer.

The police took away my computer last week and they've given me a transponder to wear round my ankle. Poltical corrctness gone mad, I tell you! Can't a 36-year-old man share haircare tips with young people these days without having to sign the Sex Offenders Register?

What's next? A term of imprisonment for my history website 'Teen Bestiality' (a focus on animal husbandry 1813-1819)? Or an expose in the tabloids about my Facebook community 'Do you want some sweeties, little girl?' (an insiders view of Swizzles Matlow advertising from 1967-1987)?

It was bad enough when I was beaten up for advertising sessions at the local youth club on 'Pre-School Porking' - a study group on rudimentary butchery techniques.
(frankspencer, Mon 15 Sep 2008, 15:19, 4 replies)

An ex-colleague...
...discovered his mates facebook password, and every day changed his birthday to the current day, resulting in him being inundated with "Happy birthday mike" every day.
(gin'll fix it, Thu 11 Sep 2008, 17:47, 1 reply)

Facebook can't buy you class
I had a housemate last year who was a cunt of such intensity even a gangbanged prostitute's minge looked like a page from the Bible in comparison. This was a man with a head so far up his arse he'd not only be smug about it, but boast about just how spacious it was. For the sake of example, let's call him Gav (firstly, because it's his name, and secondly because I wouldn't mind exposing him further on the internet)

Gav was your standard chavvy facebook/myspace addict who met 'his soulmate' on one fateful night and within two weeks was talking about weddings and proceeding to get matching tattoos on their backs. The lady in question fulfilled the typical criteria of fake blonde hair, fake tan, fake personality and an absolute daddy's girl who has had everything given to her since before conception. God had scraped the barrel of culture and human decency for the pair of them and topped it up with arrogance.

The only thing Gav loved more than his missus was football. He was captain of my university's 3rd reserve football team (just to give you an idea in retrospect of his skill), and tried to flaunt the Y chromosome whenever possible. The team suffered 20 straight embarrassing defeats because "they hadn't passed the ball to him enough", and he was pretty much mutinied out of his role and left to boast about himself.

Alas, I digress. Gav and his missus had been together less than a month and were already talking about their big day. Being the technological sort, most of Gav's family was on facebook, where he went to write on their walls about how lovebitten and romantic he was and just how perfect and lovely the lady in question could be. Memories of how they wooed were brought up and everyone felt just a bit smug about it all. FoxyBadger hates smug more than most things, and was not standing for it.

I placed a little reality checker post on his profile with the full intention of his family to read it, roughly as follows:

"Dude, I can't believe what you two got up to in the middle of Oceana! Pulling is one thing, but she actually let you finger her in the middle of the dance floor in front of fuck knows how many people? That's one weird fetish mate. Rumour has it you didn't know her name until the night after. Did you tell her you pulled Emma that night and she was okay with it? (Her best mate at uni. Name made up due to the fact I can't remember the bimbo's real name). Anyway, talk to you later mate"

That went down like the Hindinberg. Threats were made. Pants were pissed. High fives among other associates were exchanged. I topped it all off by keylogging his computer one day, taking his facebook profile's password and changing his profile picture to one of him wearing solely his girlfriend's thong before spamming his close friends, football colleagues and family with messages asking if the lingerie was too tight for his package. He was laughed out of the foootball team's social circle so fast it would make your eyes bleed and his sister sent the pic to all his mates back home.

Hell, I hated that guy. I have my reasons which I won't go into I have now been forced by the internet to adhere to. Gav was well known for never paying his way for a damn thing. Our gas and electricity was on a pay as you go meter, and in the entirity of the year he'd placed about £50 on it and left the rest for us to top up to. That came to a good £200 or so each. Furthermore, after locking himself out the house one night on a night out he proceeded to smash the front door in, bust my door open and inform me that if I ever locked the door again he'd do nothing short of kill me before fobbing the bill from the landlord onto me. He'd bang on my window at 4am when I'd have an exam in 5 hours just to remind me that I was going to fail. Anyway, his missus has dropped out of uni now to study fashion instead of law (lol) and he's unemployed. Match point Foxy.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Mon 15 Sep 2008, 16:44, 15 replies)

Warmfuzzy's post reminds me...
Profile rules for women

Girls give us guys a hard time for our profiles, but the fact is that with false nails, eyelashes, push-up bras, hold-in pants, high heels and hair extensions, the odds are that whatever the girl looks like in the photo, most of it is either kept in a jar, or in a wardrobe, so there are a few rules we tend to keep in mind when checking out the ladies. If you don't wish to fall into these categories, be honest and show us the *real* you.

1) The old photo trick. Yes, you might have looked amazing when you were on that holiday to Ibiza, but that was before the kids/chardonnay and chocolate binges after your ex left/you got hit by the ugly stick. We might try to hide the receding hairlines, or suck in the tummy a bit, but when you expect Elle McPherson and what appears to be Ermintrude the cow hoves into view, the odds are you aren't getting lucky. If that is the case, don't then tuck into a bucket of KFC whilst your girlfriends point out that it must be the guy's fault - see above.

2) "I'm crazy, me!" No, no you're not - anyone claiming to be wacky, crazy, mad for a laugh, etc, is generally thick as pigshit and works in Gregg the Bakers, or some other deadend, brain-numbing job. You're looking to get laid, not win Britain's Got Talent, ffs.

3) We all know that girls can be...emotional, shall we say? Especially around the time they are scarfing maltesers by the lorryload and keeping Always in business, but please don't put "moody", "unpredictable", "emotional" or similar as one of your attributes. At best we think of you as the girl who ends up crying voer her shoes with mascara running down her face at the end of the evening. At worst, you are Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction.

3) Look, let's be frank, you're on a dating site to look for a guy. Maybe he'll be the one you marry, maybe it'll be a one-night thing, but for God's sake, don't start out thinking that you'll only ever message/MSN/meet a guy who agrees to marriage as soon as you email him. If he does, believe me, you don't want him and if he doesn't, it's because he thinks you're a crazy stalker. Be normal, I don't care if your Ex jilted you at the alter, the next guy along has nothing to do with that and you're going to terrify him.

4) Don't listen to your girly mates about what to write - if you want a man, ask a male friend for advice. If you want a pack of shrieking drunken harpies, continue to follow the advice of the bitter group of lambrini drinkers that are sat in your flat on a friday evening, as opposed to enjoying their stunningly succefful relationship with Brad Pitt.

5) You might look great for your age. You could, in fact, be Princess Leia, but the fact is that if you put 25 on your profile and you can remember the 80s before they were "retro", then you are in danger of veering into "mutton dressed as lamb" territory. Be honest - most guys are tired of trying to appease self-centred, neurotic chavettes in order to find a partner, so you'll probably have the pick of the field if you don't look like a pitbull.

6) Realise the fact you are on a dating site means that you are saying "I am single, I am lonely and I am up for a bit of rumpy-pumpy" - Guys are there to get laid and *maybe* find a long term girlfriend, if you go on their looking for a husband and refuse everything other than a proposal, you're going to be disappointed and get a reputation as either a) frigid, or b) a tease. Neither makes you popular and the responses you'll get will not help your self-esteem. If you approach things correctly, you may well find your true love, but if the worst case scenario is a few enjoyable flings, does it really matter if you don't? Closing your mind to anything apart from your ultimate end goal is not going to get you anywhere and you'll become bitter and shrewish to any man who does then approach you - potentially rejecting the one guy who really would be perfect for you.

7) Don't be pious. You might not drink, smoke, eat meat, drive a car, or have a carbon footprint, but we're not all like you. A lot of us like to enjoy life and, as we're considerate, would not smoke if it offended you. However, if you agree to meet a smoker who drinks at a pub, don't be surprised if he orders a pint and nips out for a fag. Don't believe you can "change" us for the better - we're happy how we are, so if you don't like what you see, ask if there is any flexibility or just get over it and accept the fact that a pint on a friday evening does not equate to wife-beating alcoholism.

I think that's about it. By the way, I met my wife over t'interweb, so I do know of which I speak - we were just honest and open with each other.

Don't take offence - this is all meant light-heartedly, but I do think that sometimes you girls get totally the wrogn idea about what some of these sites are about.... :-)
(Chad, Mon 15 Sep 2008, 13:09, 30 replies)

A long time ago
I was fiddling around with my new computer when up popped one of those 'girls looking to chat in your area' type things (You know, the ones where they just show a repeated five second bit of webcam footage to give you the impression there's some sort of live feed). Anyway, I would have ignored it, only there was one thing that was weird - obviously the pop-up had got my IP address wrong, because it kept referring to me as someone else, and not only that, but the name it was using seemed oddly familiar. Eventually I realised that the guy it was referring to was an old mate of my dad's (I know! What are the odds?), so I tracked him down. Anyway, long story short, not only does he know this girl, turns out she's my sister and she wants me to help her go blow up the death star.

Also turns out that stretching the Star Wars saga to include social networking is really fooking difficult.
(jabboy, Sat 13 Sep 2008, 1:24, 6 replies)