» Things you've done when you've had no money.

Oh, the joys of being a student ...
In Baltimore: McFoodpoisoning had a promotion going one time and were selling cheesburgers for 20 cents. My ex's flat mate bought something like 100 of them. When she got home, she carefully disassembled them into their component elements, bun, burger, etc. and individually froze them all. For months she'd whip them out, toast the bun and microwave the middle ... eww.

In New York City: All I had left was peanut butter and carrots and about 2 bucks with weeks to go before the next injection of parental life blood. Thank God for NYC bagels. I hardly ever eat peanut butter anymore, though. I also never had my hair cut in the NYC years 'cause I couldn't afford it.

In Wellington: Our cupboards looked full, but when assessing actual nutritional content of said cupboards we discovered: The last food we had was instant pudding, which kept us going for a couple of days. After that, we had every spice and condiment known to man, but nothing to put them on. ... Also recall flatmate's brilliant chilli con carne with 3 kinds of chilli sauce, and chillis and black pepper and the last can of ... I think it was nut loaf. He and I were the only one's who could swallow it.
(Tue 12th Oct 2004, 11:38, More)

» Toilets

Marvels of Soviet engineering
I worked in a beautifully restored East German town about 10 years after reunification. Among the many interesting stories I heard from my local colleagues were some of the thousands of reasons they hated the Russians.

The Russian army had appropriated a largish chunk of the middle of town. Anyone who has been the to old Eastern Bloc countries knows the old communist mentality regarding architecture: build it, forget about it. Maintenance? Cleanliness? Paint? Who needs 'em?

In any case ... toilets. When the army moved into their nice, old HQ building, the Russian masters plumbers immediately proceeded to brick up the entire ground floor, windows, doors and all. Stairs were added outside for access to the new entry level, i.e. the next floor up (1st floor for us, 2nd floor for the Yanks) and a hole was cut in the floor of said 1st and/or 2nd floor. This was the toilet. The hole. With fantastic drainage into ... the floor below.

Well, fast forward through 20-30 years of borscht and cabbage being shat down in there and the Russians pull up stakes and leave the now reunified Germany.

The poor bastards given the job of restoring downtown were left with 30 years of petrified Soviet souvenirs to deal with. It was soon discovered that you can't clean or remove or dissolve or wipe up human waste on this scale.

They dynamited the historical building, coprolite and all, and carted it off in tiny little pieces.

... No wonder the Soviets treated the locals so badly: imagine working in the HQ on a hot summers day ...
(Wed 7th Sep 2005, 9:24, More)

» Lost...

Not me, but a legend in my hometown ...
whose name must remain clouded in mystery due to the fact that he's a big time lawyer now and would sue my arse off ... lost his car.

Mr. X showed up at a party one evening and was right pissed by the time we left. The story goes he kept on imbibing the amber liquid many hours before attempting to drive home.

The police dropped X off at his home ca. 6-8 hours after his departure, giving his family their condolences: They had found him stark naked in the middle of the motorway crying his eyes out and telling them he was out of his head because the IRA had killed his brother.

It took the family about another week to find the car, which was parked in a suburb maybe 10-15 km from the motorway.

NB - X lives in New Zealand, has NO BROTHER, and, as far as I know, no family at all living in Ireland or England ... no bloody wonder he's such a cunting good lawyer!
(Tue 7th Dec 2004, 12:25, More)

» Strange things you've been paid to do

The first one that comes to mind ... oh wait ... two ...
I'm a classical musician in Germany.

I once got a call to play in the backing band for one song with some one-minute-wonder pop starlet whose career peaked when she sang the theme song to professional ski-jumping on TV (the big time!) and whose name I have completely forgotten. I got given the dates for our TV taping and got the music as a fax (these people are too important to use the mail). STRICT INSTRUCTIONS: "You must have this memorized for the job, you will be on camera etc." I got to the studios and we got dressed by the producers in identical *beige* kit - including beige shoes and socks - and were then called for rehearsal. We tuned up, played the number a few times, made some adjustments ... waited three hours. Pigged out at the giant *FU* TV studio buffet put on for us. Rehearsed again. Waited. Went into studio - no microphones in sight ... ? ... turns out we were hired for Top of the Pops and we had to fake the whole thing for the cameras, but the producers wanted us to "look authentic." The money was bloody good though and I'm sure I ate and drank my fee a second time by the end. Funny note: the German word for lip-synching and air-guitar playing is "Playback" - they don't even have their own for it ...

Another time a mildly-famous-German-person gave me and some mates a gig playing chamber music at the house of a very-famous-former-German-prime-minister (the house even has a mini police station built into it!) ... our employer for the evening wanted to show up with a little something to contribute to the festivities ... or something. We showed up and played maybe 10-15 minutes tops and then got shuffled off into the next room while the big-wigs went on chatting. The next room turned out to be the bar and came equipped with a bartender and multiple enormous gift-for-state-visit boxes of cigars ... barman gave us a nod and a wink and we left an hour later drunk as the proverbial and with our instrument cases bulging with finest tobacco products ... this is what we call "work."
(Sat 2nd Oct 2004, 9:48, More)

» The worst sex I ever had

Just a quickie ... badum-tis!
The bad ones have been few and far between, thank goodness, but I do recall:

- The 18-y-o with the body of a young goddess, the brains to match and the sexual prowess of ... an inexperienced 18-year-old, i.e. none at all. Pity.

- The 28-y-o with the body of a full-on goddess and a dirty mind to go with it, who, however, could only come if she was in exactly "that" position, frigging herself with her hand while I pumped away at exactly the right rhythm ... sigh. The foreplay and early humping were always fantastic. Then she'd decide it was time to come and it turned into hard work.

- The chick who was always up for it but who was so ticklish I wasn't allowed to touch her while we were doing it for fear of her convulsive and compulsive defensive moves which included punching and rolling over in a manner prone to removing the dicks of unsuspecting new players.

Thank God Mrs. Ebay is none of the above!
(Wed 20th Jun 2007, 12:47, More)