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This is a question Starting something you couldn't finish

Finnbar says: I used to know a guy who tattooed LOVE across his left knuckles, but didn't tattoo HATE on the other knuckles because he was right-handed and realised he couldn't finish. Ever run out of skills or inspiration halfway through a job?

(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 13:32)
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This question is now closed.

You're kidding right?
My whole life is one long unfinished project.
I took a temporary job as a newspaper copyboy 25 years ago while I figured out what I wanted to do. I'm still in fucking newspapers and I still have no idea what I want to do.
Apparently a career in journalism might be the go...
(, Fri 25 Jun 2010, 5:12, Reply)
I'm currently trying to finish my Masters thesis
I officially started last year, but I spent most of 2009 twidling thumbs so now the pressure's on with a vengeance. And guess what? I'm about as inspired to finish it as I am to go to the dentist. Almost every day I wish to buggery that I'd just quit after my Honours year and trained to be a teacher or something as I really can't be arsed much these days (guess why I'm on b3ta?).

Still, the fact that I've wasted so much time already spurns me on, but fuck me if it isn't a daily chore. And the worst part? I'm an English student. Analysing "portrayals of academia in the masculine literary tradition of New Zealand" demands a lot of one's sanity, apparently.
(, Fri 25 Jun 2010, 3:20, Reply)
I have a good story about this
It all started when I was on my way to the supermarket. I needed to buy new bedsheets, when it started raining.
(, Fri 25 Jun 2010, 1:48, Reply)
My memoirs
I haven't finished writing them yet. But then I am still alive! Then again, I haven't started them either.
(, Fri 25 Jun 2010, 1:28, Reply)
Many moons ago...
...when I was a mere 17 years old and attending Art College on a Graphic Design course I met up with some rather nice chappies in the Photography Department who invited me and a friend out for a few drinks. After liberal application of alcohol we ended up back at their flat where, after several more beers, my friend decided to call it a night and left in a cab, leaving me alone with the two guys.

The lads suggested a game of strip poker which my drink-addled brain thought might be a rather fun idea. My luck appeared to be in, since I ended up still retaining most of my clothes but sitting between two rather cute, rather naked men.

The guys started getting more than a little amorous with me, but unfortunately the large amount of alcohol had started to press on my bladder. I excused myself, promising to be as quick as I could.

After the longest piss I've ever had I realised I'd lost my nerve so I just snuck out and walked home.

Despite seeing them many times afterwards in college, the matter was never mentioned again.
(, Fri 25 Jun 2010, 0:41, Reply)
I'm currently dodging the Confederate fire.
Waste of time, really, though. They couldn't hit an elephant at this dist
(, Fri 25 Jun 2010, 0:38, 4 replies)
Packing in logarithmic time


That was taken hours ago and there's only 1 more box there now. Have to be out by 1430 tomorrow. And I'm reading the titting QOTW.
(, Fri 25 Jun 2010, 0:25, 2 replies)
My car
My car is currently in pieces in the garage. I'm on the couch reading b3ta.
(, Fri 25 Jun 2010, 0:22, Reply)
Decorating-never finished
Not me that doesnt finish but as sit and look round my living room I a half papered ceiling been that way 18 months. Cupboard built into recesses with doors propped against them-approx five years. A wooden floor (proper wood not laminate) that was never varnished 10 year+ i.e. prior to me meeting him.
Cellophane on sliding doors to dining room hmmm eight years-what do you reckon the chances of them actually being put on the rollers they are meant to be on. I hate it all. The look of abject horror on my husbands face when I bought myself a set of screw drivers-cant be any worse than leaving it unfinshed can it.
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 23:37, Reply)
Super Mario Brothers
The original game, on Nintendo. I've made it to level 8-7 and that's it. Usually I bite it on 1-2. I rush things too much. And yes I'm still trying twenty-something years later. I have beaten plenty of difficult games, even on hard. So why the fuck can't I kill Bowser? I beat the second Mario goddammit, why not the first? I once won a Mortal Kombat tournament, but I can't rescue the princess.
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 23:24, 5 replies)
Tomb Raider
I have bought and played every single Tomb Raider game that has been released for PS1 and PS2. I think that's about seven or eight.

I have never, ever finished a single fucking one of them. I can do the puzzles, I can do the acrobatics. It's just the shoot-em-up parts I can't do. I don't have the dexterity for it. and I panic if I see scary things heading towards me at speed.

I swear a lot when I play Tomb raider.
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 23:09, 4 replies)
It should have never have gone so far...
Oh the amount of things I have started without finishing. If only I was more persistent in persuit of my goals. In my life lie many unfinished things:

Relationships, a job re-grade application form, a bathroom, to-do lists, diets...

It's summer 2005, I'm 21 and not as fat as I am now. I'm living in a houseshare with my best friend and partner in crime (now sadly deceased) and each weekend we regularly lead each other astray by encouraging the imbibition of copious amounts of vodka and massive drugs. It's a Saturday night and we're out in Liverpool with another friend, Amanda. Former housemate pulls a dodgy geezer who she knows from work, he has trainers on and can't get into the bars we want to go to. Housemate makes the executive decision to take him home to bounce on him leaving Amanda and I to continue our evening. We carry on to our favourite bar characterised by its notorious loose drunken women of all ages and its meat market ethos. It would be a bad night out if you didn't get your arse pinched as a mimimum.

There were many nights my former housemate and I had spent dancing the night away imitating the moves of the more aesthetically challenged with blatant disregard for the likelihood of us getting chinned. The disregard probably aided by the false sense of invincibility awarded to use by the ingestion of massive drugs. One night we were so cheekily mocking a nearby dancer that we giggled to ourselves that we were going to get battered. Forgetting the football chant of "you're going home in a st john's ambulance" and needing something with an equal amount of syllables I shouted to my former housemate over the din "YOU'RE GOING HOME IN A COMBINE HARVESTER" which had us in hysterics. Anyway I digress - I'm getting nostaligic.

On the night in question Amanda and I are dancing / drinking / smoking in the usual combination and decide to get a last drink in at the bar before we got turfed out. In an effective bid to rid the bar of punters they switch the fluroescant lighting on. This reveals everyone as the sweaty mess they really are and kills the atmosphere. We're supping our last drinks when two bouncy scousers rock up at the bar offering the promise of a "party". Not wanting the night to end we shrug to each other and agree to go to the "party". As the more savvy of you will have guessed by now this "party" turns out to be the four of us. The high of the evening is rapidly disspating for me as I realise the more attractive (more accurately described as less ugly) of the two scousers has really hit it off with Amanda leaving me with the unappealing charms of his friend whose name was Tony.

Tony was a merchant seaman with the kind of Liverpool accent and painful humour that in combination make your ears bleed. He was also a permatanned, lime green Ben Sherman wearing short arsed little fucker. I'm fake smiling through his bad jokes though the realisation of how dire the evening is to become hasn't yet filtered through the alcohol. We stop at a 24 hour boozery and pick up some brandy and vodka. We arrive at Tony's house and the "party" commences - Tony puts some banging choons on and we drink some more. Amanda and slightly-less-repulsive scouser are getting like a house on fire. Tony's overtures are becoming slightly more obvious. I excuse myself to the bathroom. Upon exiting the bathroom Tony is waiting for me outside, casually leaning, propped on one arm across the width of the landing and cunningly blocking my exit path. Not wanting to be rude I effectively limbo under his arm to get past. Tony invites me to see his home gym that he's immensely proud of. He shows me into a laminate floored bedroom with a weight bench and a few free weights inside. The walls are green woodchip. I pretend to be impressed.

I quickly escape back downstairs to find Amanda necking Tony's friend on the sofa. I cough loudly. They separate themselves and we carry making small talk, Tony arrives back in the living room looking a bit sulky a few seconds behind me. "Excellent," I think "I've made it really obvious I'm not intersted and he'll politely leave me alone".

Ha.

Tony invites me to sit on his knee. I decline. Amanda is sleepily leaning onto the shoulder of her new soulmate and he's stroking her hair. He's giving Tony the secret signal to leave the room. You know the almost imperceptible nod of the head. I'm getting annoyed and anxious, not wanting the conflict of telling Tony outright "Look mate you're a fucking minger of the highest order, your skin is orange. You're not funny and I have no interest in sliding down your pole". Tony invites me to view his newly decorated bedroom. I sigh and look at Amanda with what I hope comes across as a "you owe me" look and allow myself to be led upstairs to "view Tony's newly decorated bedroom". Once inside the room Tony is bragging about his dado rails and in the three seconds it takes me scan the room and turn back to face him he has completely removed all of his clothes. They must have been fucking velcro sealed. He taps the the bed next to him and signals for me to sit down. I try and quell the rising vomit and burp indiscretly behind my hand. I excuse myself to the bathroom again.

I sit on the toilet and curse my stupidity. How the hell have I got myself into this mess. Fuck fuck fuck fuck I repeat silently to myself. I have two choices either a) sleep with Tony or b) cause a scene. I make the only sensible decision: to sleep with Tony. I was far too tired and worn down by constantly swerving his advances to deal with any more conflict. With resignation I remove myself from the toilet and make my way back to his bedroom. Tony's now lying in bed provocatively leaning on one arm, huge gold chain around his orange neck. I sit on the edge of the bed and hang my head and feeling like I'm about to spew all over his recently fitted carpet.

"What's the matter babe? I thought you were feeling dead horny"

The natural response would have been "NO FOOL! I am not horny I've merely been too pleasant to assertively reject you". Instead I say "Not really, no". Tony looks crestfallen that all of this evenings endeavours might not pay off for him. "Come and have a little lie down, darlin" he croons at me. I trudge around to the other side of the bed and get under the covers fully clothed and shut my eyes tight. Tony slides across the bed towards me. I can feel the warmth of his breath on the side of my face. I grimace and turn over onto my side. Tony spoons in behind me and begins to grope my boobs. I squrim and recoil. Tony stops, sighs and rolls over onto his back.

I dive out of the bed, barge into the living room where fortunately both Amanda and her new guy are asleep on the sofa. I shake Amanda roughly awake and tell her that we're leaving. Amanda looks at me guiltily. "Sorry Fireyfox," she says. We collect our belongings and hurry out onto the street where we flag down a passing taxi.

Let this story be a warning about how much worse this scenario could have been. I don't think anyone should be ashamed of having consensual one night stands but always beware of what you're getting yourself into. Never be too much of a dickhead like I was to say "NO". Luckily Tony might have been an idiot but he wasn't a rapist.

Sorry for lack of eventual funnehs.
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 23:07, 6 replies)
In 9 years
I have started Tomb Raider 4 many times. I get at least half way through then either something else takes priority, or I get bored that day and never get around to going back on and continuing.
The most recent reason for not completing it was that the PS3 died and went back to Sony along with the saved game data.

I've got the disk out a couple of times, but never got around to inserting it as I then realise that I have to plough through all those early levels that I'm sick of doing.
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 23:04, 2 replies)
More than a few games
Metroid Prime II springs to mind (FUCK YOU SPIDER BALL BOSS, FUCK YOU IN YOUR STUPID FUCKING FACE-HOLE)

Metroid Fusion (see above, re: "Nightmare")

Resident Evil 5 (I am thoroughly ashamed to admit) - how on _earth_ would a bunch of villagers in loin-cloths be able to withstand being shot by heavy ordnance so many times, yet still be spry enough to jump up to where you are and run you through with a spear like some re-enactment of Zulu? And your partner? The idiot who runs in circles, steals ammo and gets themselves attacked all the time - why? FUCK YOU, THAT'S WHY.

I can honestly say the above games have induced nuclear fits of rage in the past, to the extent where I've just decided I could be doing more constructive things with my time (like, for instance, drinking)
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 22:59, Reply)
Pleasing football fans
I was walking home last night in Edinburgh when I bumped into an England fan, drunkenly revelling in the joys of their recent victory.

'Come on England!' - he shouted alcoholically into my face.

I've been trying ever since, but so far I've only managed to cover a small paving slab, and its costing me a fortune in petrol to get down there...
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 22:49, Reply)
Cisco Exams (and networking exams in general)
of varying degrees of complexity, right up to CCIE level - and invariably by Chapter 5 I develop an attitude of "bollocks to this". That usually coincides with feeling like I'm reading some sort of indoctrination piece and realising the effort spent is only valid for three years. So, essentially, you're paying for materials and time just to try and secure work on one vendor solution. That finishes me off every time. The only analogy I can come up with is having to sit a driving test for every different type of car you'd ever drive. Driving a van today sir? You'll have to sit the TCDA (Transit Certified Driving Associate) exam. New car sir? Ohh, a Honda. Now you need to sit a HCDA.

I know there's major differences between vendor implementation before anyone starts, ta.

Fair play to you if you've secured work as a result of your time and effort - I commend your patience and diligence, and wish you only the best. Also, if it's a condition of your continued employment? Fine. I just cannot be fucking arsed.
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 22:49, 1 reply)
I've started writing my first novel.
First bit in the replies...
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 22:44, 8 replies)
Well... I'm not sure yet...
God... hello again B3ta... long time no see and all that.

So, way back in September I decided that with a daughter to feed and ambitions of scraping a living I'd do a teacher training course. A PGCE to those in the know.

Now, many months later I am within three weeks of finishing it and my will to live is evaporating daily. I hate the kids, I hate the planning, I hate the school, I hate the person it makes me when I'm at home, I hate feeling sick every day and night, I hate the headaches. I am not enjoying it.

It is my final observation from the college tomorrow to decide if I pass or fail, and here I am, reading the QOTW on B3ta.

I don't know if I'll finish it yet, but dear God I'm starting to think I might not. I don't even know what the alternative might be, and frankly, right now I'm not sure I care.

Ahem. Rant over, normal service will be resumed shortly. :)
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 22:42, 7 replies)
Meant to be doing my thesis right now
We'll see in a few weeks
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 22:16, Reply)
I never got around to killing a single clown.
Let alone my grand plans for the LOLocaust.
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 22:05, 4 replies)
Every Sodding Games Workshop Army.
Ever.

(Well, okay, I've only ever really collected Skaven and Chaos Space Marines, but still. Almost fifteen years of painting and playing and I don't think I have a single playable army.)
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 21:45, 8 replies)
A model railway
When I was little, fuelled by family trips to steam railways and repeats of Thomas the Tank Engine, I decided I wanted a model railway. Me and my dad started out on the project, building a board to lay it all out on and trying to find a home for it, while I thought of how I was going to build and run my own countryside landscape and railway station from my bedroom.

We got as far as nailing an oval of track to the board, and buying one or two model trains and a couple of buildings. Last year, the board was finally removed from its home (leaning up against the wall in the garage) and thrown away after approximately 17 years in the same position. The trains and buildings are, as far as I know, still in the shed somewhere.

Apologies for shitness.
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 21:38, Reply)
Websites
Or to be more precise, my own one.

I work as a graphic designer, and in my strange desire to eventually work for myself and own a big shiny graphic design firm (ideally where large chested women handle photocopying and I get to wear a suit) I have produced a fair few personal designs.

It'd be fair to say that I don't have a lot of free time, so when I do get to work on my own stuff it's usually a bit here and there. Unfortunately this means that by the time I'm half way through a design, I've got bored of it and started a new one. The result being that I have at least 20 personal websites in various states of completion. Goodness knows if I could put the same effort into one it'd probably rival whatever the mecca of webdesign is right now, but my gerbil-like attention span means I never quite end up happy with them.

Of course it does mean that when I do the paying work, I've already realised what works and what doesn't and can save time faffing about on loose ends.

Now...time to see if prototype #31 can be fixed...
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 21:35, 3 replies)
ok, enough people have done the unfinished post joke
and i dont think its funny anym-
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 21:11, 3 replies)
Once started converting an old fairground into a front for supplying counterfeit money
and I used to scare away nosey people by being dressed up as a luminous ghost and chasing them around the grounds until they fucked off. Would've gotten away with it too if it wasn't for those pesky kids with a dog who looks like he's suffered from a stroke.
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 21:11, 2 replies)
my house mate
does first year

fails first year

fails re-sits

re-takes first year

fails first year

passes re-sits

does second year

fails second year

university notices that in the amount of time it should take someone to complete a degree, he has only managed to pass one year.

lea will no longer cover his tuition fees. so university asks house mate to quit because it will look much better for him than if they kick him out

house mate quits uni

house mate has spent the same amount of debt as a normal graduate... with the exception that he does not have a degree.

oh dear
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 21:09, 4 replies)
Guitar
Specifically, Bass. Not for me the Fretboard Wankery of Mamlmsteen and Van Halen; it was the rhytmic gymnastics of Steve Harris, Geddy Lee etc that attracted me. I also figured EVERYONE plays lead, but all bands need a bass player so Id never be "unemployed".

So I bought a guitar (nice black Strat copy) and a little practice amp, and a basic guide to playing bass.

That was about 20 years ago...I still have it, with 3 strings. I occasiionally pick it up, play a few notes, sigh, and put it down again.

But one day, when I get time...
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 21:05, 5 replies)
The washing up....
It never bloody ends! Might just get paper plates as the council wants us to recycle more...
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 20:58, 3 replies)
Many moons ago
when I was young free and single, I was invited to a friend's house party where, during the day, we prepared for the nights debauched vulgarity by filling the fridges (one in the kitchen and one in the garage connected to the house) with booze and making a foul punch out out vodka, fruit cocktail & 5 Alive in a pan.

The night went swimmingly, we laughed, we imbibed, we got rather munted and vey silly. Ffw to later in the evening where I was sat in the kitchen with a bottle of tequilla and my friends coquettish female housemate - There was a bit of mutual attraction and conversation got skirted around racy and wound up with the realisation that neither of us had had sex in a car. "My car's in the garage" quoth she, so a duvet was procured and I drunkenly put seats down in her wee hatchback.

After what 1980's pool signs described as heavy petting an inebriated me went down on the young lady, in all probability I inexpertly slobbered all over her vagina but I remember her laid in the back of this car, eyes closed with my face buried deep in her mimsy and then horror ...... A fellow party goer shuffled along to the fridge, removed a beer and turned to leave. Right before he clocked us, leaned over the rear windscreen, made eye contact with me over her bush and gave a cheesy grin and thumbs up before leaving.

Now time is great at papering over the cracks in our memories but after that it was all a blank. The fact that the next morning I woke up inside a small, garaged hatchback, stark bollock naked with a wizened and empty condom still on my flaccid cock meant only one thing; I fell asleep on the job and my paramour fled in disgust at my inept, drunken & rather sleepy attempt at shagging.

No Honda Accords were defiled in the making of this post.
(, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 20:58, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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