Profile for killing time...:
Born with a twin tongue my parents encouraged me to not speak from an early age. I would sit at home crossing my tounges dreaming that one day I could go to school and not have people play Doctors and nurses with me, their boots and a few original taunts.
When I was young enough, I ran away to the circus and was taught by an old zen master the art of mime. Which I now use to protect the weak and needy in parks and other puplic arenas.
You can catch me working the torquay bahmitzva scene in the summer months, or dialing 0800 lizard.
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- a member for 19 years, 6 months and 6 days
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Born with a twin tongue my parents encouraged me to not speak from an early age. I would sit at home crossing my tounges dreaming that one day I could go to school and not have people play Doctors and nurses with me, their boots and a few original taunts.
When I was young enough, I ran away to the circus and was taught by an old zen master the art of mime. Which I now use to protect the weak and needy in parks and other puplic arenas.
You can catch me working the torquay bahmitzva scene in the summer months, or dialing 0800 lizard.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Out of my depth
postmans knockers - im such a tit
A normal saturday night out started with amusement of the house opposite being 'liberated' by gangs of teenagers attending their first party.
We went out, stumled across someone with some poppers (we were just pissed) did most of the bottle between 6 of us and had to go home for a smoke. Pronto.
Retunring home and seeing no life from across the road we decided to take it in turns playing postmans knock... and I in my popper enduced state of genius thought it cunning to go first, calculating that the time for a teenager to get out of bed and down the stairs was equivilent to a drunken misfit getting across the road and into his house.
I was wrong.
Firstly, these kids were not upstaris but in their lounge, 2 foot from the front door, watching me, giggling, by their door, pushing the door bell and turning to my mates with my thumb up.
Secondly my "friends" locked the front door, and opened my window so I could hear their fits of laughter at their own utter hilarity from across the ST.
I staggered across the road, zig zagging my way back into my door, bounced back - looking like ram man from he-man - and hid behind a random car.
Alas they had seen all of my cunningness and about 10 of them rounded the car on either side shouting abuse at me as my smile was rapidly being replaced by confusion... (How could I be out smarted by teenagers??)
They stood firing questions at me - "Who the **** are U / Wha' you doin you stupid penis" etc, while I could hear my friends laughter rise an octive.
Only partial redemtion was achieved when these pesky kids insisted on leaning against MY doorbell in revenge, not realising I was living with my dad at the time, who emerged fat and ugly from the door and shouting WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING IN HERE THEN, EH!
they scattered
My friends stood, red faced, holding in their laughter as my dad proceeded to bollock me in front of them.
Humiliating.
(Tue 19th Oct 2004, 13:53, More)
postmans knockers - im such a tit
A normal saturday night out started with amusement of the house opposite being 'liberated' by gangs of teenagers attending their first party.
We went out, stumled across someone with some poppers (we were just pissed) did most of the bottle between 6 of us and had to go home for a smoke. Pronto.
Retunring home and seeing no life from across the road we decided to take it in turns playing postmans knock... and I in my popper enduced state of genius thought it cunning to go first, calculating that the time for a teenager to get out of bed and down the stairs was equivilent to a drunken misfit getting across the road and into his house.
I was wrong.
Firstly, these kids were not upstaris but in their lounge, 2 foot from the front door, watching me, giggling, by their door, pushing the door bell and turning to my mates with my thumb up.
Secondly my "friends" locked the front door, and opened my window so I could hear their fits of laughter at their own utter hilarity from across the ST.
I staggered across the road, zig zagging my way back into my door, bounced back - looking like ram man from he-man - and hid behind a random car.
Alas they had seen all of my cunningness and about 10 of them rounded the car on either side shouting abuse at me as my smile was rapidly being replaced by confusion... (How could I be out smarted by teenagers??)
They stood firing questions at me - "Who the **** are U / Wha' you doin you stupid penis" etc, while I could hear my friends laughter rise an octive.
Only partial redemtion was achieved when these pesky kids insisted on leaning against MY doorbell in revenge, not realising I was living with my dad at the time, who emerged fat and ugly from the door and shouting WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING IN HERE THEN, EH!
they scattered
My friends stood, red faced, holding in their laughter as my dad proceeded to bollock me in front of them.
Humiliating.
(Tue 19th Oct 2004, 13:53, More)
» Out of my depth
never work with money
I work for an investment bank in London, I bi-weekly calculate the amount of items unable to be processed by Equities (a large part of the bank but not all of it) and present the data to the heads of departments, who allocate work to their teams and minimise the banks losses... They are high brow, low moral people who you DO NOT screw about under ANY circumstance.
Sometime in my first month I was witness to great back-slapping and taken under the wing by said group of seniority as I sat in a large meeting room (30 people can sit at these tables and the leather chairs beg for you to fall asleep in them) presenting them with their weekly figures and general analasys on the success of the week.
I had an over head projector and large pointy thing for the graphs which all highlighted a reduction of 9 million Euros... Well, this was excellent news both for those who created it and he who told them about it...
it was only half way through their welcoming that I looked up at the figures on the projector and saw a decimal point in the wrong place.
I had reported 1 million instead of 10 million.
(Tue 19th Oct 2004, 18:27, More)
never work with money
I work for an investment bank in London, I bi-weekly calculate the amount of items unable to be processed by Equities (a large part of the bank but not all of it) and present the data to the heads of departments, who allocate work to their teams and minimise the banks losses... They are high brow, low moral people who you DO NOT screw about under ANY circumstance.
Sometime in my first month I was witness to great back-slapping and taken under the wing by said group of seniority as I sat in a large meeting room (30 people can sit at these tables and the leather chairs beg for you to fall asleep in them) presenting them with their weekly figures and general analasys on the success of the week.
I had an over head projector and large pointy thing for the graphs which all highlighted a reduction of 9 million Euros... Well, this was excellent news both for those who created it and he who told them about it...
it was only half way through their welcoming that I looked up at the figures on the projector and saw a decimal point in the wrong place.
I had reported 1 million instead of 10 million.
(Tue 19th Oct 2004, 18:27, More)