b3ta.com user rofl harris
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» I Quit!

Pretend suicide
Now this turned out harsher than I expected, but seemed a cracking idea at the time.

I was young, hacked off, and as young and hacked off people are prone to (especially those who find themselves working in call centres taking gas meter readings over the phone), I'd decided to quit my job in style.

We had a team meeting/daily pep-talk scheduled for that morning, and as our line manager was a chain smoker, these were sometimes held in the car park at the side of the building - as was the case the day I'd decided to quit.

Now the building itself was on a hill, looking out over the city, and right at the end of the car park was a low wall, over which, to a casual observer there would seem to be a sheer drop of about 100ft - although it was actually slightly terraced, with something like a 4-5ft drop immediately the other side.

The pep-talk started as usual with our boss attempting to motivate us for the day ahead. Following this, we'd usually take it in turns to discuss any issues from the day before.

When it was my turn, I merely uttered "Sorry, but I can't take it any more, I really can't, I quit", ran across the car park like a demented, suicidal monkey, and hurled myself across the wall.

There was about 30 seconds stunned silence, followed by screaming, and then more screaming, and then plenty of crying.

When I emerged, rather than being treated as a jolly prankster they overlooked my "resignation", sacked me immediately and escorted me from the premises.

So yeah. Don't pretend to kill yourself at work kids. Not good.
(Fri 23rd May 2008, 14:28, More)

» My sex misconceptions

Whilst a student I used to while away most of my days smoking copious amounts of weed and watching crap afternoon telly. My companion for many of these wasted days was Cat, a stray tortoiseshell who often came into the house ostensibly to keep us company, but most probably because we used to feed her copious amounts of tuna and pickled onion space raider crisps.

Cat was special in that she seemed to be completely bat-shit insane. She'd walk in and fall over randomly. She'd rub herself with a little bit too much enthusiasm on anyone and anything, was always dribbling, and her behaviour often seemed, well, sexual. It was almost like some weird bestial foreplay.

I thought I was wise to the ways of the world, especially concerning sex, but it was only when I woke up from a stoned and highly erotically charged dream on the sofa to find Cat attempting to hump my nose that I realised I knew nothing.

Yes, I was raped in the face by a cat.
(Thu 25th Sep 2008, 16:30, More)

» Stuff I've found

bouncy castle
When a little nipper I used to cycle every day to the river near my house with my best mate. It was gorgeous North Wales countryside - lush green fields, fresh air, and in the Autumn we'd bomb around the river bank skidding through the dead leaves on our BMXs. Happy days.

One evening there was a massive storm that felled many trees in the area and there was widespread flooding, so the next day after school we pedaled down more eagerly than usual to our favourite spot to survey the damage.

It was pretty bad - our favourite tree had been snapped like a twig and was half in the river. We were just mournfully digesting our loss when we realised that a load of flood debris had collected against the tree, making a little platform hanging out into the river. We'd lost a tree, but gained a floating castle!

An initial foray showed the castle to be not only spacious, with a floor of dead leaves, mud and twigs, but also to be incredibly bouncy! Such an incredible find, we thought, as we both bounced higher and higher on our little platform, laughing gleefully.



We were both waist deep inside three-quarters of a rotting dead cow.

Not a castle at all. Not in the slightest. Rubbish find.
(Thu 6th Nov 2008, 14:28, More)

» Cringe!

Back in my hedonistic days I used to frequent the glorious sweat pit that was the Lost Weekend in Nottingham.

One particular night I'd eaten a few too many magic biscuits, and felt an overwhelming urge to sick coming along, and was wondering around trying to find the toilet. I barged past a few people milling around the corridor that led to the toilet, and tried to turn down it but I immediately ran into someone.

You know how it is when you bash into someone - you move left, they move left, you move right, they move right. Embarrasing. This went on for far too long, and I could feel the urge to puke becoming stronger, so I tried to make light of it:

"Listen mate, I'm desperate, let me past"

He smiled back at me but when I advanced, he still went the same way.

"Mate seriously..."

But he just seemed to be grinning inanely back at me. What the fuck was wrong with him? He seemed to be leering at me in a really weird way, so I tried to make smalltalk, but couldn't get any sense out of him at all.

"Oh for fucks sakes!", I muttered and ploughed right through him - except I didn't - I walked straight into my own reflection in a mirror which I'd just had a five minute conversation with, knocked my head, and fell on the floor. At which point I was sick.

Drugs are bad.
(Fri 28th Nov 2008, 13:58, More)

» Nights Out Gone Wrong

At the risk of blowing my cover
My worst night out, and one that I don't think I'll ever live down, was my first night out at Uni.

1998. I was a fresh-faced country boy, enthralled to the pleasures of the big city (well ok, Nottingham), and wasn't yet fully versed in the dark arts of getting completely twatted. I'd already spectacularly vomited through my nose after snorting aftershock (don't do it kids - it sticks to the inside of your nose, refuses to budge and stings like buggery), and had also had a go (in for a penny) at Tequila Suicide.

For the uninitiated Tequila suicide is a slight variation on a slammer - the variation being you snort the salt, neck the tequila, and then squeeze the lemon into your eye. It's big and clever.

Like all regretful evenings the exact moment of shame is clouded in a fuggy haze, but what I do remember is as follows: There was a fox. Being from the country I'd never actually seen one up close. City foxes are different to country ones - they have no absolutely no fear.

"Look, ish a Fox!!" I cried to my fellow miscreants, "A fox!!"

I loped off towards it clutching a pint of Guinness that I still had from the last bar, and got within about 5 metres of it, wavering slightly.

It stared at me. I stared at it. It seemed to beckon me closer with its eyes. Its big, friendly, I-just-want-to-be-stroked fox eyes.

"It wants to be my friend!", I thought, "But how do I demonstrate that my intentions are benign?". The answer was obvious - I needed to feed it Guinness.

Advancing slowly I bent down slightly and extended my pint of Guinness. The fox approached closer, I approached closer still. It sniffed the Guinness, I made encouraging sounds. It tilted its little foxy-face quizzically and then tasted the Guinness! Success! Inter-species understanding had been achieved!

Then it savaged my hand and I got taken to A&E for a bandage, a not rabies tetanus jab, and to be laughed at by the hospital staff.
(Fri 25th Mar 2011, 13:11, More)
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