b3ta.com user chesty
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» Now, there was no need for that...

at the local hospital for ladies' bits...
...had to go in for a routine check, but my nice friendly swiss gynaecologist was off on holiday for 3 months so he made an appointment for me at the hospital instead. OK, not as nice as his office with the lovely cushions in the changing room, but ok, i thought. wrong.

1) i had to walk down a long corridor with wearing only a too-short paper gown, desperately trying to cover my front bottom
2) i walked in and there were 3 scary hairy women in the room
3) when they moved over the blinding light to peer up my love canal, i realised that the larger-than-life projection of a vagina on the tv was not a video but ME!!!
(on the plus side i now know i have a mole on the left inner labia).
3) a colleague walked in and after asking 'do you mind' (scary hairy II said no of course not - thanks) 5 MEDICAL STUDENTS walked in and took it in turns to peer at my cervix. Apparently my lovely gyno had forgotten to mention it was a training hospital...

Anyway, to add insult to injury, all 9 of them conferred and decided this tiny but apparently dubious-looking bump that I had never noticed had to be lasered off the next week (22nd December) and i can tell you, having a) an injection into your tender bits and then b) having a huge laser burn off skin there can really really spoil your christmas holidays.

no apologies for depth.
(Fri 17th Jun 2005, 9:44, More)

» Scary Neighbours

The inbred Swiss
We had a "family" living accross the street, in a HUGE old house worth about 4 million buckaroonies, the (recluse) mother who we only ever saw peering out of the top window and the (mad-as-a-hatter) daughter, who used to
1) wear the most eye-popping arrangement of clashing patterned khaftan thingies with one of those desert stormer mullet hats
2) hum really loudly as she swayed up and down the street at all hours
3) mow the lawn in the middle of the night (for which you practically get the death penalty in switzerland) but mow around the clumps of wild flowers/ weeds,
then, 4), she met a rather strange young fellow who was half-paralysed and walked swaying in the opposite direction to her (we called them heidi and the tin man) and they had a lovely wedding ceremony in the middle of their clumpily-mown lawn which started at 8 in the morning with the local junior church brass band playing for them. They were astoundingly shite, and very very loud, but once we'd gotten over the burst eardrums and shock of being woken up by 'brass band pays selected hits like the rasmus and nickelback' we appreciated the novelty value of it and went over for some free champus.
(Mon 29th Aug 2005, 10:50, More)

» Stupid Tourists

yes dear
Sitting in the restaurant of a lovely little family-run hotel in Calais on the annual trip back to England (we were living in Switzerland at the time), my Dad started trying to teach my little sister a bit of French. She did ok, then the conversation died down as bit as we tucked into our delicious meals.

a few minutes of silence later, lil sis pipes up 'oh and daddy, what's a menage a trois? is it like a meal for three or something?'

cue the little old lady owner in the corner (who didnt speak a word of english) cracking up laughing and running into the kitchen where we were to hear loud french cackling for the rest of the evening.

...my mum ended up explaining to her that it was something that some people did but that it wasnt very nice...
(Wed 13th Jul 2005, 10:14, More)

» Mugged

Like, sooo EB
After the borders were opened in the Czech Republic my poor escaped refugee daddy was finally allowed to go home and visit his family in Prague, and took us, his little western family with him. Two blonde daughters with matching outfits (one was me, pissed off as usual that my little sister was wearing the same) and the parents in full tourist mode with backpacks etc.

So anyway, we were coming out of the metro, when suddenly my dad spins around and grabs this guy's hand (which happened to be in his backpack) and yells at him loudly in czech - we were all terrified, nothing like this ever happens in switzerland, my mum grabbing us and pulling us to safety behind a pillar - but then the guy laughs and says (in czech) 'aaw, sorry mate, i though you were a tourist! welcome back! no hard feelings eh?'

And then walks away, swinging his arms and humming.

Has to go down in history as one of the most unspectacular muggings ever...
(Fri 16th Jun 2006, 10:43, More)

» It's not me, it's the drugs talking

my lovely man...
...after a looong looong night with many many pints downed, he decided to roll a spliff on the balcony, then came to bed. After keeping me awake for half an hour breathing 'i looove you, you're so speeecial' right into my face with stinky beer puke and weed breath, he fell asleep. I was rudely awakened at 6 in the morning by him shuffling paper bags around in the corner of the room, where the dry cleaning and results of my shopping trip to edinburgh were temporarily stored, asked him what he was doing - 'looking for my tie' he replied so i went back to sleep.

Only to be re-awakened by the sound of trousers slipping down hairy legs and the splashy sound of weewee - sure enough, he was pissing in the corner of the bedroom.

I leapt out of bed in kung-fu stylee, and started hitting and kicking him - 'hey chill out, i'm just taking a piss' was the not-bothered reply - so i pushed him, still peeing, into the shower and turned the water on. It may have been a bit hot as he started screaming and threated to push my nose to the other side of my face, so i shoved him into the computer room and locked the door.

After an hour of sobbing as I poured a gallon of piss out of my brand new leather boots and wrung out the dry cleaning into the bath i left the house for the day.

He finally called me from the computer room (door still locked) at about 5 in the evening and sheepishly asked why i had locked him in the room - he didnt believe me then but he certainly did when i stuck his nose into my boot and they didnt smell of leather no more.

To be fair, though he did buy me new shoes and cleaned the flat for 2 months, but we have an agreement now that if we smokes weed when drunk he sleeps on the balcony. I don't care if it's december.
(Fri 16th Dec 2005, 15:10, More)
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