» Have you ever been dumped in a spectacular way?

Haha... it's still the gold standard in our house...
I had a horiffic boyfriend about 5 years ago who was always fucking about behind my back. One day I saw the light and walked off, just leaving him there.

A week later (after several phone calls, most of which he hung up on me during) it's my birthday and the grannies are coming to tea. I'm there in the kitchen with my hands covered in cake mix when the phone rings, so my sister answers it and holds it to my ear.


ex: We need to talk.
me: I have nothing to talk to you about.
ex: What about us?
me: There is no us.
ex: but... but
Little sister (wreching the phone away from my ear): BYE MR FUCKHEAD!!!!

And she hangs up.

Never heard from him again... well, until the 12 red roses arrived half an hour later. I didn't keep them.

Sometimes my sister rules.
(Thu 17th Jun 2004, 23:30, More)

» I'm an expert

Oh dear.
After spending fucking hours in a dark room staring down a microscope counting thousands of bastard sodding fluorescent green blobs, I am apparently now the world's only researcher (and hence expert) into the effect of the gastrointestinal hormone VIP on the integrity of the intestinal epithelial cell tight junctions and the subsequent changes in sodding fluorescent green blob movement.

Talk about a waste of time...

...the really, really tragic thing? I'm going back to do more.
(Fri 24th Jun 2005, 23:34, More)

» Guilty Pleasures

Exhibitionist? Moi?
Wandering around my room naked whilst knowing full well that the people in the house opposite and walking along the street are watching.
(Thu 7th Apr 2005, 14:09, More)

» Local Nutters

And finally...
Not completely on topic, but worth telling all the same:

My Great-Grandparents live in a nursing home and have got some interesting tales to tell... for example, the time that a woman whipped out her tit for Grandad to examine at breakfast over the orange juice, accompanied by a triumphant "what do you think about that?", the woman who was forced to cut short a conversation by the staff as she'd 'lost her skirt', the woman who wet herself, then mopped it up with her cardigan, the numerous inmates that try to climb into each other's beds at night and last, but not least, the one that constantly tries to pick the lock in the conservatory, believing that the 'Japs' have him trapped in a POW camp.

Let me never get old.
(Thu 16th Sep 2004, 13:47, More)

» Local Nutters

Oxford
The city of the dreaming spires is blessed with an unusually tallented bunch, who have formed a band.

The duo can generally be found sat in Cornmarket, complete with guitar and harmonica, singing and playing something by Bob Dylan (and quite often they're all playing the same tune...) I have seen them venture as far north as Broad Street, where they played as a Trio with a man and his triangle.

My boyfriend swears blind that he's heard them yelling to the skies one sunny afternoon that they 'Hate Those English Bastards!"


There's also the woman who I see quite often in the Magdalen Bridge area wearing a headscarf, an anorak, a expression of abject terror and a pair of fluffy blue slippers.
(Thu 16th Sep 2004, 13:43, More)