b3ta.com user squirrelysquirrel
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Squirrel in Australia. May contain nuts...


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» Irrational Hatred

I've overlooked the massive one...
I'm pretty sure i'm not the only one who has noticed that people no longer have the ability to think for themselves. And i'm convinced that this is caused by a combination of ridiculously stupid OH&S rules, bloody obvious warning signs and ambulance-chasing no-win no-fee lawyers.

For example, on a packet of peanuts "May contain nuts". Or a "Do not stick body parts in sharp whirly things" sign on a sharp whirly thing. It's common sense. Or those fucking annoying "Been injured at work? Sue your boss!" adverts that have created the sort of people who the moment something happens to them that they don't like, they wonder who they can sue about it. Like that woman in the US who sued a store for tripping over a child. Her child. And won!

As cavemen we learnt that fire burnt and hurt us, and it got hard coded in our DNA. So we don't set fire to ourselves (unless we're mentalists or really pissed off about something).

Now they're talking about banning people from listening to iPods while crossing the road. For fucks sake, if you can't pay attention to what is happening around you as you listen to Kanye Fucking West then you deserve to be collected by that large mass of moving metal that you haven't given way to.

I could go on. I could go on for a long time, especially without my wife here to gently squeeze my arm to nudge me out of my rantiness...
(Thu 31st Mar 2011, 23:10, More)

» Out of my depth

Another acid story...
At the age of about 19 or 20, walked into my local and had just ordered my pint when the bloke who organised the pool team said they were one person short for the match that night. now my prior pool-playing experience consisted of a couple of games whilst at college, where i quickly established that hitting balls into pockets is not one of my skills. at all.

so we hurtle off to the opposing team's pub. on arrival, and before the match starts, there's me and my two mates in the toilets dropping acid (which i've never done before). cue much hilarity involving an ever-shrinking pool table, balls of all one colour, and an LSD-induced god-like ability.

so with 3 of the 5 of us tripping our nuts off, we won the match 7-2, i won all three games i played, and ended up on the team for a year, during which time i never played anywhere near as well as that first night and had to get moderately drunk before i could even sink anything.
(Fri 15th Oct 2004, 2:32, More)

» Irrational Hatred

People who can't get the usage of the word 'lose' right and stick an extra O in it.
(Fri 1st Apr 2011, 1:02, More)

» Scary Neighbours

Not so much scary...
but i swear my quiet librarian-type female neighbour was a high-class miss whiplash.

she seemed timid and nervous on the outside, but drove a little red sports car and had a regular stream of late-night male visitors all driving very nice expensive sportscars.
(Fri 26th Aug 2005, 4:03, More)

» Grandparents

On my Mum's side...
At the tender ages of 94/95 my grandparents have finally been coaxed out of their 15th-century deathtrap house and into a nursing home. My grandfather is almost blind, almost deaf, walks at shuffling pace while bent double, is unbelievably cranky, and has outstayed his welcome on this planet by about two or three years.

So, my nan is loving the nursing home as there's lots of other old biddies to talk about the war with, grandpa is threatening to call the police because they won't let him smoke in his room.

In the run up to the big move, my mum was down at the house going through 40-odd years worth of crap that my grandpa had accumulated, separating it into small things to take with him, stuff to go to auction, stuff to go into a skip.

Sitting there with the old man, he just randomly declares "I've got a skeleton". Sure enough, it's upstairs in a closet - a human half-skeleton with skull, spine, ribcage but no arms and legs. It should be pointed out my grandfather was a surgeon in his prime, not a serial killer (that we know of).

So Mum goes home and tells my Dad, who instantly suggests it be buried in the garden for the new owners of the house to find in a few years time when they're planting some veggies.

This idea is quickly shot down, as is the suggestion it be left in the basement under a tarp. It ended up going to the wife of one of Dad's colleagues, who was an osteopath, for the princely sum of 250 quids...
(Fri 3rd Jun 2011, 4:18, More)
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