» Too much information

Thrush cream.
Christ, I have got about a fucking million of these. I used to work in a pharmacy. Many old people seem to see this and think "despite you clearly working here solely for beer money until you finally graduate and get a job where you no longer need to deal with the fucking public, i am going to share with you more than i should as you are vaguely connected to health professionals"

It's my usual sunday shift, im 17, and have a hangover of epic proportion. So in walks an older lady. Easily into her 60s. You know the type: the mouth like a cat's arse from years of smoking, the dyed hair, the make up that looks like it's been applied with a fucking tablespoon and the clothes 16 years out of date and 30 years too young. Nobody needs to see a cleavage like that. It was like somebody had managed to melt a leather sofa down her front. So she makes her way up to the pharmacy counter.

And so begins the inevitable flirting. I am so uncomfortable that my sphincter has tightened to the point you could probably press a diamond in it. I'll fast forward you through the grilling on my private life that this woman thought was clearly more important than whatever healthcare issue she came in with. Finally we get to the point:

woman: well it's a little embarrassing talking to a handsome young man like you about this, but i need something to treat a wee yeast infection i picked up
me: certainly madam, there are a number of options for you: we have oral medication, vaginal suppositories and creams

the thought of this woman cramming a suppository up her frothing, crusty axe-wound was awful in itself. Nothing prepared me for her response.

woman: Hmmm. I'll just take the oral stuff. The creams and whatnot are no good for me - when you get to my age, you'd just have to pick a wrinkle and go for it!

Gross. Just fucking gross.
(Thu 6th Sep 2007, 20:08, More)

» Heckles

Dylan Moran: the man, the legend
IN the middle of his Monster tour he played the academy in Glasgow. He comes on stage with a bottle of wine and explains he's just played in italy. All is well for the first half of the show.

Second half starts, and some drunk bint pipes up, slurring "Dylan, you're not in italy now. why are you drinking wine? Why not have a scottish drink?" The retort? "A Scottish drink? What, like a pint of temazepam?"

I almost shat.
(Fri 7th Apr 2006, 2:52, More)

» Pubs

The Counting House, Glasgow
I overheard this exchange:

*time bell rings*
Drunk Wife: Ooh, it that time already?
Bitter Man: No. It means we've won a prize for being here the longest. Drink up and get your coat...

I miss Glasgow sometimes.
(Mon 9th Feb 2009, 22:18, More)

» My Worst Date

A fairly standard date
right up to the point where i went to kiss her, sneezed, and snotted large, arcing chains of greasy mucus down her cheek, ear, hair and into the furry collar of her jacket.

The sight of a woman sodden in someone else's phlegm was too much and i threw up at her feet. Persumably splashing her shoes but i dont know because i was too busy drunkenly running away.

Anyway, she declared herself a lesbian the following month.
(Sun 24th Oct 2004, 16:56, More)

» Shame

For those unfamiliar with Fridays at Strathclyde Uni
TFI: Britain's longest running student night and probably the most debauched. The door bears big slogans advising people to stay away of offended easily as a kind of disclaimer, such is the volume of complaints received.

So on friday i pitched up for a (one) pint and some decent rock and roll tunes before heading home to study. 3 bottles of wine, some champagne and free cider later i have done the following...

1) Been wedgied so hard that my underwear has torn up the seat, so i remove it in the bar and force over the head of nearest lady.

2) rub my bare arse cheeks on a friend's face as she rummaged in her bag to get her phone

3) Ripped posters off the wall and fashioned some sort of paper skirt thing

4) Fallen off a table onto some girl in what amounts to an elbow drop

5) The HeliCockter. For those unfamiliar it involves swinging one's member about while singing the theme to Airwolf

6) Had my jeans nicked by an equally pissed mate

7) Moved pub. Got cock out again.

8) Paid taxi in 10p's. Fare was about £13.


All of the above (except number 8) was done in full view of virtually my entire course. It's monday now, and everyone remembers. I want to die.
(Mon 28th Nov 2005, 11:20, More)