» Look! It's me in the Local Paper

Horrifically good
Just the other day (Monday) I found myself at the local theatre, all dressed up to go see sing-a-longa Rocky Horror. Now when I say dressed up, I'm talking about stockings, suspenders, corset and thong! One of my female friends gave me a feather boa to complete the look. At the beginning of the show they had a fancy dress competition. There were quite a few entrants, but I somehow managed to win. On my way back to my seat I was dragged to the side by a couple of journalists, who scrawled down a few brief notes and took a few photos. I later found out that the story would be in either the Journal or the Evening Chronicle. I went up to my seat, dreading what people would make of it when they saw it (I work in a school!). The next day I went down to London, leaving at stupid o'clock in the morning, for work, so didn't have the chance to grab a local paper to see if I was in it. I got a text saying I wasn't in the journal, so all was ok... until around 9ish, when I received several texts from people saying they'd seen me in the paper. Apparently the next day at work I was the talk of the staff room (which I stayed away from), but so far the pupils haven't found out... ...yet!

Anyhoo, link to the article be here. I'm the one in the photo at the bottom.
(Thu 10th Feb 2005, 18:01, More)

» Embarrassing Injuries

Just the odd one or two
I've had a number of injuries in the past, so here be a couple, I apologise for length in advance.

1) Relatively near where I used to live there was a castle with a lovely big hill attached, we'd slid/rolled/etc. down it a number of times and I'd seen a few people ride down it on their bikes. Anyhoo, this one time I decided to cycle down there mesel' so I got lined up and set off over the edge, shifting my weight over the back wheel as you do for stability or whatever. Now normally this act wouldn't cause much of a problem, but my saddle decided that it would flip back, stopping me from moving back forward when I got to the bottom. Cue the lack of control over the bike and the front end bouncing all over the place. I ended up after getting to the bottom of the ditch, going across the bit of grass, over a road which had foot wide by foot deep trenches either side of it, onto another bit of grass, down a small, but steep hill and back up a small incline. All the while the front of the bike is bouncing up and smacking me in the chest, chin and forehead. I saw a bench approaching fast and launched myself to the side, missing it by a foot or so. There's me lying on the ground, covered in blood, I can see my mates over another little hill chatting amongst themselves, but I can't shout to them due to being completely winded. They noticed a few minutes later and I left to go to hospital. I went on holiday the next day, wrapped in bandages. I still have the scar on my forehead.

b) Another happened when I was younger and holidaying in france. I'd decided to go stroke a horse in a field attached to the campsite. The horse however decided that my top looked quite tasty and grabbed hold of it, pulling me forward... into the barbed wire and down into a ditch. I still have the scar on my side, but the ones on my shoulder and elbow have gone.

iii) One time I was out at a nightclub and for the last song of the night they played nellie the elephant or something similar and people generally did a conga line around the place, up and down the stairs, etc. As I was coming down the stairs I notice some people on the dancefloor sitting in a line waving their arms and decide to join them. As I sit down I put my hand down on a broken bottle, I look over after a while, see the blood, casually wander over to my mates and say something along the lines of "I appear to be bleeding". They grab my hand in a fist like fashion to stop the blood flow and drag me along to the people in the foyer to patch it up enough for me to make it along to the hospital. In casualty they gave me some anaesthetic then left it to wear off before stitching it up. The blood was still on the dancefloor the next time I went in there.

q) "Oh look a broken glass bottle, watch me smash it by jumping on it!" Most of the bottle smashed away from the circular bottom bit which went right through my shoe. My mate cut his finger while pulling it out. Luckily though his lass had a box of plasters (or individually wrapped sterile adhesive dressings as some places call them) with her at the time.

é) I popped my knee out wrestling. It went right back in again, but the people across the room cringed from the loud popping noise. I went to the bar to ease the pain. This was a couple of years back, my knee still pops out for no reason occasionally, but now it doesn't always go back in straight away. Maybe I should've seen the doctor about it.

746) At a gig, I decide I need a better vantage point and jump up onto a higher bit, only my jeans won't let my leg go that far up and I end up tearing a chunk out of my leg from the sharp corner of the higher bit.

42) Another gig, crowdsurfing and stage diving. Me and a mate ended up on stage at the same time, we turned to each other, nodded then dove into the crown. It was like the parting of the red sea as I landed on the ground several feet out and a few feet down with him landing on top of me. We lay there dazed a bit, then got up and enjoyed the rest of the gig.

7175) I sliced the very end of my thumb off once while testing the sharpness of a new swiss army knife I'd purchased. I didn't want my parents to know I had it, so I got the chopped off bit of skin and placed it in the bathroom by a broken tile and blamed that for it.

I have others, but this'll do for now. Not bad for a first post eh? Well maybe a tad long.
(Wed 8th Sep 2004, 0:02, More)

» How I Skive Off Work

That reminds me
I should've been at work 30 mins ago, but instead I opened up my browser and started to read this. Ah well, they prolly won't notice too much, I'll just say I was at another site or something. Then when I get there I'll do a few things that need doing, then do a bit of skiving on teh interweb. Normally I'd get ordered to go home early, but since my boss is down in london today I'll just have to work out when to leave myself.

Best get some clothes on and get a move on really.
(Fri 29th Apr 2005, 9:28, More)

» Losing Your Virginity

Have you ever seen me dancing? Like, really dancing!
Nearly managed to lose mine with a lass (F) I was going out with for a while when I was 15 (she was 13), we both wanted to, but it never happened (I was too shy to stick it in - it was a month before I even kissed her FFS!). Her mum broke it off when F came back home one day with "love bites" on her neck - the mum wouldn't let me see her again and I was too scared to go behind her back. Fuck, I quite liked her too.

Eventually though, about a week before my 17th birthday I was out at the bestest rock club in England - The Mayfair in Newcastle, which has since been ripped down and turned into some piece of crap poncy bar, restaurant and cinema bollocks, bastards. There I was dancing away with a big bunch of my mates, there she was in said big bunch of mates (well when I say mates, some of my lot knew people, who knew people, etc. and we were all dancing in one group). Anyhoo, there's me headbanging away and she comes over to me and says "I like yer dancin'". So I turn and start dancing with her for a bit. At the end of the night we leave that place and as I do, I wander whichever way people are going, end up getting in a taxi with her and a mate, head back towards her's, dropping her mate off on the way. After a bit of chatting etc. (can't remember what the etc. was - it was ages ago) we end up getting nekkid in bed and started getting down to business. I can't remember the whole details, but it lasted for fucking ages (my fault really as I decided that cumming the once wasn't enough - just kept it in and kept pumping away). After a while I was wondering how much longer it was going to take. Anyhoo, I eventually unloaded my man juice for a second time and we fiddled up and went to sleep.

I saw her a few times after that in the nightclub, but not gone back with her for "health reasons". About nine months later - eight months after dropping a sprog (apparently she was already up the duff when I had a go) I ended up going back to her's again for another go. She had aquired a colour TV by then (previously she'd had a black and white one).

Did I mention she was a bit of a nutter? On the way back to her's the first time she told me how she had been arrested for throwing crockery at the police and how she'd recently got out of an asylum or something. Then the morning after the second time the Jehovas Witnesses came round for her regular visit, but they didn't stay as she had company.

What is it with me attracting nutcases? ...along with older women, lasses already in a relationship, gay blokes, lesbians, etc. (please note, just because I attract them, it doesn't mean I do the dirty deed with them - although I did de-virginise a lesbian once).

Are there any sane, single, gorgeous, young lasses out there looking for a bit of good loving and maybe a bit of the kinky stuff? or maybe I'm too picky?

I've never had any complaints and I've had several complements recently.

Length, girth, apologise? Bollocks to that.
(Thu 10th Mar 2005, 21:39, More)

» Little things that turn you on

Mmm, redness
I've got a thing for red heads. Not ginger though - there is a difference. Even dyed redheadness is good, though natural is better - they have the pale skin and the cute red pubes to go with it (normally I like them smooth, but one of my exes had a small patch of redness down there).

Another thing has to be a good smile. A nice bum and a nice set of top bollocks are also good, but it's the smile that does it.

Also, being stroked - especially my back. One time I was in a night club and a couple of my mates were dragging their nails lightly down my back - it incapacitated me temporarily with the niceness.
(Mon 21st Feb 2005, 13:14, More)