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- a member for 20 years, 9 months and 16 days
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» Old stuff I still know
5020 1600
Cadbury's Creme Egg.
It is almost ten years since I last needed to type that into a till. I still remember it.
(Sat 2nd Jul 2011, 0:26, More)
5020 1600
Cadbury's Creme Egg.
It is almost ten years since I last needed to type that into a till. I still remember it.
(Sat 2nd Jul 2011, 0:26, More)
» Real-life slapstick
Fleeced
Was in my first year of uni and on the run down from Chemistry supervisions to my Cell Biology lectures. This route wasn't far, but had to be taken at a fair, albeit still walking, pace as my chemistry supervisor didn't seem to care for the fact that finishing on the hour meant we'd have to teleport the otherwise five minute walk.
One one such rapid journey I found myself suddenly yanked backwards my the bottom of my fleece, as though someone had pulled on the toggle. I turned round to find out who had done this, only to see a guy in his mid-thirties giving me a similarly annoyed look.
We both glanced down, only to see two chords of elastic stretched between us, with the toggles on the end of them seemingly interlinked. Not entirely sure how we managed that.
(Fri 22nd Jan 2010, 15:36, More)
Fleeced
Was in my first year of uni and on the run down from Chemistry supervisions to my Cell Biology lectures. This route wasn't far, but had to be taken at a fair, albeit still walking, pace as my chemistry supervisor didn't seem to care for the fact that finishing on the hour meant we'd have to teleport the otherwise five minute walk.
One one such rapid journey I found myself suddenly yanked backwards my the bottom of my fleece, as though someone had pulled on the toggle. I turned round to find out who had done this, only to see a guy in his mid-thirties giving me a similarly annoyed look.
We both glanced down, only to see two chords of elastic stretched between us, with the toggles on the end of them seemingly interlinked. Not entirely sure how we managed that.
(Fri 22nd Jan 2010, 15:36, More)
» School fights
I was always a bit pathetic...
Much smaller than my classmates, lacking in co-ordination and able to loose an armwrestle to anyone I wasn't exactly going to win any fights. Most people didn't bother, it hardly had any kudos attatched to it.
Still one guy clearly decided that I was fair game. I'd have called him a chicken if the reality wasn't that he could still win easily, and thus I didn't want to provoke anything.
Now I wasn't stupid. I realised I had no hope of 'winning,' nor did I even care for the kudos. (I was a bit of a pacifist, still am in many ways) I just didn't want to get hurt. So when he aproached I led down on the floor, leading to his beausment and his wandering off when he realised that other than kicking me while I led on the floor (From where I could at least protect nose, face, testicles etc.) there was very little he could actually do.
Pathetic, and not a technique that would work in all circumstances (And one that could have gone wrong) but still, I was fairly relieved at the time.
(Sun 12th Mar 2006, 21:16, More)
I was always a bit pathetic...
Much smaller than my classmates, lacking in co-ordination and able to loose an armwrestle to anyone I wasn't exactly going to win any fights. Most people didn't bother, it hardly had any kudos attatched to it.
Still one guy clearly decided that I was fair game. I'd have called him a chicken if the reality wasn't that he could still win easily, and thus I didn't want to provoke anything.
Now I wasn't stupid. I realised I had no hope of 'winning,' nor did I even care for the kudos. (I was a bit of a pacifist, still am in many ways) I just didn't want to get hurt. So when he aproached I led down on the floor, leading to his beausment and his wandering off when he realised that other than kicking me while I led on the floor (From where I could at least protect nose, face, testicles etc.) there was very little he could actually do.
Pathetic, and not a technique that would work in all circumstances (And one that could have gone wrong) but still, I was fairly relieved at the time.
(Sun 12th Mar 2006, 21:16, More)
» When animals attack...
Cows, Squirels, Chickens and imaginary monkeys
When I was about eight I was taking the dog for a walk in a nearby field with my Dad. We had got halfway across the field when from out of nowhere (Well okay, it was from out of the adjacent field, but the concept of cows materialising out of nothingness is quite amusing) came a cow, which began to charge towards us. (Yes, I know Bulls are more traditional) My Dad grabbed a branch, peresumably to beat off the cow, while I ran for the gate, which seemed bloody far away to my little legs. I'm still not sure what to feel about the image of my Dad 'heroicly' wielding a stick at charging cattle. Still, I'm even more disturbed by the memory that I somehow managed to write about this in an English SATs exam when I was thirteen.
I have also attracted the unfavourable attentions of a squirrel, which decided that my head was good target practice. I was quite bemused to be hit in the head with an old apple core (I know they traditionaly through nuts, but as my bovine attacket was also 'nut' free I'm noticing a trend.) even more so when I noticed the prepatrator looking own on me from a tree above.
Going back a bit more now I have just also remembered being attacked by a chicken. (Again 'nut' free) I was tiny at the time and they had come into our garden from nextdoor. My mum suggested I go out and play with them. I can't remember the attack itself, but I do remember sitting on my Dad's knee and being fed Smarties. I later peretended I was a pirate thanks to my black eye (I was slightly confused there I think.) Infact, looking back I was close to actually loosing an eye there.
The monkey was going to appear here, but then I remembered the chicken. As the monkey was imaginary and thus didn't do any damage outside physchological and a fear of walldrobes I will leave it out in favour of the chicken, leaving tasty morsels here to make the story sound more interesting than it actually was.
(Sat 4th Jun 2005, 23:56, More)
Cows, Squirels, Chickens and imaginary monkeys
When I was about eight I was taking the dog for a walk in a nearby field with my Dad. We had got halfway across the field when from out of nowhere (Well okay, it was from out of the adjacent field, but the concept of cows materialising out of nothingness is quite amusing) came a cow, which began to charge towards us. (Yes, I know Bulls are more traditional) My Dad grabbed a branch, peresumably to beat off the cow, while I ran for the gate, which seemed bloody far away to my little legs. I'm still not sure what to feel about the image of my Dad 'heroicly' wielding a stick at charging cattle. Still, I'm even more disturbed by the memory that I somehow managed to write about this in an English SATs exam when I was thirteen.
I have also attracted the unfavourable attentions of a squirrel, which decided that my head was good target practice. I was quite bemused to be hit in the head with an old apple core (I know they traditionaly through nuts, but as my bovine attacket was also 'nut' free I'm noticing a trend.) even more so when I noticed the prepatrator looking own on me from a tree above.
Going back a bit more now I have just also remembered being attacked by a chicken. (Again 'nut' free) I was tiny at the time and they had come into our garden from nextdoor. My mum suggested I go out and play with them. I can't remember the attack itself, but I do remember sitting on my Dad's knee and being fed Smarties. I later peretended I was a pirate thanks to my black eye (I was slightly confused there I think.) Infact, looking back I was close to actually loosing an eye there.
The monkey was going to appear here, but then I remembered the chicken. As the monkey was imaginary and thus didn't do any damage outside physchological and a fear of walldrobes I will leave it out in favour of the chicken, leaving tasty morsels here to make the story sound more interesting than it actually was.
(Sat 4th Jun 2005, 23:56, More)
» Scars with history
Owch
When I was 12 I was helping my Dad remove a big chunk of concrete so as to build a utility room. I was going at it with hammer and chisle (Be quite you dirty minded person) and not making great progress. My Dad, probably wanting to avoid me getting hurt, asked to borrow the hammer. No matter, I'd just smash the chisel up and down.
SMASH
SMASH
SMASHAGGGHER!
I was hitting things a lot harder than I though I was, as I discovered when the thing I happened to hit was the little finger on my right hand. Being a 'late bloomer' I screamed like a girl and franticaly grabbed my finger (Which was still attatched) and jumped up and down alot. My parents, becoming concerned asked what had happened. I showed them my finger, or rather the mass ammounts og blood which had been spewing out of it when I covered it with my hand.
Isn't it odd how things always seem to hurt more when there is blood involved. I began to cry, not an unusual thing I must add, for as well as being a late bloomer I also got upset easily. (I know, I see why people thought I was such a twunt now.) Granted though It was bloody painful and I imagine I'd still cry now, or at least whimper and dance about a lot.
My finger nail turned black and was pushed off as another grew underneath it. I now have a scar strectching from the fingernail to about halfway to the first knuckle. The adjacent finger carries a scar as well, where I was bitten by a rabbit. That time I just swore and felt rather peeved.
(Fri 4th Feb 2005, 21:23, More)
Owch
When I was 12 I was helping my Dad remove a big chunk of concrete so as to build a utility room. I was going at it with hammer and chisle (Be quite you dirty minded person) and not making great progress. My Dad, probably wanting to avoid me getting hurt, asked to borrow the hammer. No matter, I'd just smash the chisel up and down.
SMASH
SMASH
SMASHAGGGHER!
I was hitting things a lot harder than I though I was, as I discovered when the thing I happened to hit was the little finger on my right hand. Being a 'late bloomer' I screamed like a girl and franticaly grabbed my finger (Which was still attatched) and jumped up and down alot. My parents, becoming concerned asked what had happened. I showed them my finger, or rather the mass ammounts og blood which had been spewing out of it when I covered it with my hand.
Isn't it odd how things always seem to hurt more when there is blood involved. I began to cry, not an unusual thing I must add, for as well as being a late bloomer I also got upset easily. (I know, I see why people thought I was such a twunt now.) Granted though It was bloody painful and I imagine I'd still cry now, or at least whimper and dance about a lot.
My finger nail turned black and was pushed off as another grew underneath it. I now have a scar strectching from the fingernail to about halfway to the first knuckle. The adjacent finger carries a scar as well, where I was bitten by a rabbit. That time I just swore and felt rather peeved.
(Fri 4th Feb 2005, 21:23, More)