b3ta.com user petuniadb
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Profile for petuniadb:
Profile Info:

Clearly the nom de plume of forty-something sad professional whose mid numbingly dull existence can only be alleviated by occasional sexually questionable forays into fantasy role play using a female avatar.

Recent front page messages:


Best answers to questions:

» Have you ever paid for sex?

Now you come to mention it...
...several years ago when I was making a living smoothing the edges of matchsticks that are used in world record breaking model making attempts, I suffered a minor industrial accident when a splinter of endangered hardwood flew from the high speed lathe and punctured my left earlobe. It wasn't a bad wound, but when I complained to the boss (a large, obscenely sweaty Welshman) he claimed that I shouldn't really be complaining as firstly I wasn't hurt, and secondly that I'd just had my ear pierced for free. I pointed out to him that I did not want my ear pierced, as I find the sight of men wearing earrings, particularly one earring and especially one (almost invariably) diamonte earring, vilely inappropriate. He was unrepentant; there was for me on that day, no Welcome In The Valleys.

Rather than sink to the level of Claims Direct and any others from that monstrous cabal of those with the moral rectitude of an incontinent dog, I instead hired a small private security company, who rather like the A-Team, will help you (sometimes) if you can find them. Having swiftly dispatched the perfumed Taff who had so wronged me, I found myself writing them a cheque for services rendered. It could therefore be said that I have indeed, paid Force X, and most satisfactory was the whole affair, too.
(Fri 20th Jan 2006, 16:40, More)

» The Dirty Secrets of Your Trade

A while back
When I was a chef, we'd often spill the beans.

(Thu 27th Sep 2007, 15:53, More)

» Missing body parts

Digital dilapidation
All my fingers are falling off, one by one. This makes using a computer increasingly diffi
(Fri 2nd Jun 2006, 8:53, More)

» Road Rage

Road rage is for chavs
Can I be the first to advocate road sarcasm? It's easier and more gentle than road rage, and will lead to a more fulfilling life. Here are the basic tenets:
1. On giving way to someone who does not wave/flash their thanks, wave back vociferously, smiling and nodding. Yell "don't mention it! Oh, you didn't.".
2. Always applaud terrible driving, by clapping enthusiastically, or better, rolling down your window and punching the air while whooping.
3. While in the vicinity of those children's cars (you know, the pikey Max Power types with the dreadful body kits and pointless 'mods') always laugh uproariously and visibly. They love to be appreciated.
4. On seeing a low range, small engine-d BMW or Merc, always thumbs up to the driver and mouth "nice car!". Do this especially if it's an older model.
5. Pucker up and wink suggestively at Porsches. Their drivers are invariably sex gods and you may get some red-hot action.
6. When someone blows their horn at you because of some driving fault on your part (and you know it happens - even Ayrton Senna crashed), smile and wave your thanks at the driver in question. He/she is the perfect driver, and you should be grateful to them pointing out the error of your ways.

Now, back to the lists of what everyone hates....
(Fri 13th Oct 2006, 9:19, More)

» Sacked

Pub-grub rub creates bitter aftertaste
I was once sacked from the kitchens of a Wetherspoons (for kitchens, read "place where things that were once food and are now 40% saturated fat are microwaved to order") for refusing to work new year's eve. I went out on the afternoon of new year's eve with some of m'colleagues and got them and me terribly terribly terribly drunk. I of course was not working; they were incapable. I was not popular - and the axe fell.

A month or two later I was foolish enough to ask my ex-manager for a reference for a new job, and he perhaps unsurprisingly refused. And as a result I didn't get the new job.

A week or two later I saw ex-manager walking down the pavement coming towards me. I'd clocked him, he hadn't clocked me. When he was about a foot away I stuck my face in his and screamed a slang word for ladies' genitalia as loud as I could. Which is very loud, indeed. I am a big lad, and have strapping, er, lungs.

If you've never seen anyone jump out of their skin before it goes something like this: person's essence (or soul, if you will) leaves the body at high speed, leaping back about two feet and up around a foot. The remaining body, deprived of its very core, its being, turns white as if a sudden physical shutdown were beginning to take place. Then the corporeal moves backwards very quickly to rejoin the ethereal as if pulled savagely by invisible strings. The bladder then loosens, and a comedy dark patch appears at the crotch.

"That'll learn 'im", I thought. But I'm willing to bet money that it didn't. Life experiences never seem to penetrate into what passes for the minds of short-arsed, dim-witted service industry middle managers. But then, I'm biased.
(Tue 28th Feb 2006, 17:00, More)
[read all their answers]