» Mugged

Truest Story Ever
I was walking around in Los Angeles one night having drunk eighty-seven bottles of beer and eaten a whole bowlful of acid, so I was very slightly tipsy. I had a million dollars stored in my crotch but as I am nine foot eight and weight over seven hundred pounds I wasn't that concerned. Lo and behold these twenty guys appear out of an alleyway and demand that I hand over my money "or else!" I was all like "ssshyeah, right!" and I just kept walking and one of them shot me in the head with a gun. I guess it was the adrenaline or something because I didn't feel it, and just kept walking with my brains hanging out the front of my face like the stuffing from your daughter's favourite teddy bear because you ripped a hole in it because your wife left you. Then I flew backwards through time and killed all those guys before they were even born.
(Mon 19th Jun 2006, 5:21, More)

» Awesome Sickies

Attempt, Failure, Success
Quite a few years ago I was feeling mildly dodgy one morning (I had taken to drinking heavily in order to forget my shitty job, and also for the joy of drinking heavily) and thought I would take the opportunity to blag myself out of Friday’s work in order to better ease myself into the weekend. Tragically, I was told that I’d "better come in else you’ll regret it" and that made me pretty angry, though not angry enough to get sacked, so I got dressed and then ate an entire 500g block of vintage cheddar cheese. I had got a mild case of food poisoning from some dodgy cheese the week before, and figured that my "sicky memory" would eventually register my subconscious dislike for cheese and hopefully make me throw up. All I had to do was hold it down until I got to work.

The train ride went okay and the first forty-five minutes of work went along as well as you might expect, and I was getting a little nervous, afraid that I would never vomit. As luck would have it, at about the fiftieth minute of my increasingly-horrific day, a colleague was standing by my desk talking about something, and as I was nodding my head unenthusiastically and saying "Yeah, yeah, okay, sounds good, I'll get ri-"...FLOOSH! A tremendous fountain of hardly-digested Cracker Barrel in milky-white bile, replete with the amber tang and acid burn of last night’s bottle of Old Crow, erupted spectacularly from my mouth, covering my keyboard and the front of my desk. I hadn’t even felt it coming up. It got all down my front and my colleague made a hasty retreat – legend has it that she went and had a little vom herself in the kitchen. The boss, from his office two rooms down the hall, had actually heard the spew hitting the desk and he came storming out, demanding to know what was going on.

Long story slightly less long, I got the rest of the day off, and was also told that I didn’t have to come in on Monday either if I didn’t feel up to it. Naturally, come Monday, I didn’t feel up to it. Got sacked a month and bit later for "not being a team player" but fuck it, my puke-corroded keyboard and mouse got replaced by some fancy wireless kit which I nicked.
(Wed 14th Jun 2006, 6:19, More)

» Awesome Sickies

Another...
Oh, and another, not me, but a kitchenhand at my wife's work (posh chocolate cafe in Melbourne). Not quite a sickie, but anyway, he turns up for work something like four hours late, manager goes up and asks him what the story is. His answer?

"My housemate put food in my shoes."
(Wed 14th Jun 2006, 7:49, More)

» The Weird Kid In Class

Not in my class exactly...
...but we had a weird kid at boarding school, I think in the year below me. I don't remember his name but for the purposes of this story it was Rodney. Rodney was a generally disliked fellow, fat and with braces and an annoying voice. He was also a big crybaby and flawlessly stupid. In school, I was one of the kids who used to get teased and pushed around pretty constantly, raped in the showers etc., and Rodney was the kid that *I* picked on. I don't like to be nasty but he was pretty pathetic. But Rodney had a great solace that he turned to again and again: masturbation.

Now, all kids around our ages at that time masturbated with alarming regularity (and to the most innocuous and unlikely material, like diagrams of the ovarian system in the school encyclopledias), but Rodney was a real trooper. Prolific, in fact. Twice he was caught full-handed. The first time was in study class one evening. Rodney sat up the back and pretended to study for a while, but after half an hour or so the rest of the class became aware of a loud, rhythmic thumping. Then they became aware of the grunts and whimpers of self-pleasure. The class supervisor became aware also, went directly to Rodney's desk, and yanked his chair back, just in time for a roomful of craned necks to have their retinas seared with the image of young Rodney ejaculating tepidly over the edges of his pale shaking fist. He was excused from the rest of the class, and the strange thing was, despite the fact that the story got around almost instantly, it wasn't really mentioned and he wasn't picked on any more than usual (though he certainly wasn't picked on any *less*). I guess we all saw a little bit of ourselves in young Rodney.

The second time was after lights out, with all the childs tucked away in their blankets and assorted bedclothes. Rodney's covering was a polyester sleeping bag. You know, one of the ones that make a shitload of noise when you so much as exhale when ensconced within. With tedious inevitability the whole sorry scene unfolded, with the brother (this was a Catholic boarding school, incidentally) ripping back Rodney's sleeping bag, flicking on his torch, and shining it directly on the poor lad's tumescence. Not knowing quite what to do, the brother started yelling at Rodney to stop defiling himself. By now the whole dorm is awake and lights are starting to go on. But Rodney keeps at it, staring the brother directly in the eye. The brother actually pushes Rodney's hand away, but young Rodney quickly takes up the slack with his southpaw, and despite everything going on around him, simply will not stop until, with a mighty sigh, he unleashes his man-gravy across his stomach and pubes.

And then, he fell asleep instantly.
(Sun 21st Jan 2007, 3:31, More)

» Useless advice

Wee wee etiquette
My aunt once told me that I should always aim directly for the water instead of the inside of the bowl when urinating, otherwise "You'll wreck it". What my aunt was doing in the toilet with me whilst I was micturating is something I can't properly recall.
(Fri 20th Oct 2006, 1:34, More)