b3ta.com user weebear1974
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Closet ginger. Tediously grown-up job in HR. Not really a bear.

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» Messing with the Dark Side

Don't piss my mum off. Ever.
My mum's always been a bit on the demonic side. This is her story:

Forty years ago, when she was first married, she had a vile boss (gropey, sleazy, verbally abusive old shitter). One night, after a horrible day at work, she stood crying over the sink peeling spuds for my dad's dinner. In a fit of impotent rage, she stabbed one of the potatoes right through with the knife, shrieking "Die, you BASTARD!".

Feeling slightly better (and a bit embarrassed), she straightened her apron, checked the kitchen clock to see how long she had before my dad got in (it was 5.34pm), and resumed making the dinner.

The following day she got into work to find that her boss had been killed outright in a head-on car crash with a tractor on a country road that previous evening. It later transpired that his watch was broken in the impact and thus pinpointed the exact time of death: 5.34pm.

OK, it would be more sensational/ relevant if, instead of a tractor, a vast potato had rolled out Raiders of the Lost Ark-stylee and dispensed with him... but it's still a BIT spooky.
(Tue 25th Apr 2006, 13:35, More)

» Ignoring Instructions

"Don't go near swans, they'll break your arm."
Will they bollocks. In years of proximity with swans, neither I nor anyone else I know has ever sustained a fracture off one. Not even a black swan, and everyone knows they're the highest level.

Mind you, I did get savagely mugged once in the Norfolk Broads by a mallard duck. Cunt flew off with my Marmite sandwich.
(Thu 4th May 2006, 16:28, More)

» Ignoring Instructions

When having my eyebrows shaped 5 days before my wedding:

"Now, I've just applied the wax. Whatever you do, DON'T open your eyes"

God love her, the beautician managed to individually pick each of my eyelashes out of the cooling wax, resisting the urge to stab me in the eyeballs with her tweezers. For two weeks after, if I opened my eyes too wide they glued open. Which looked lovely in the photos.

Luckily I got married in Las Vegas so at least everyone else there was fatter than me.
(Thu 4th May 2006, 16:16, More)

» Road Rage

Red (mist) Driving School
This year, at the grand old age of thirty-two, I decided it was high time I learned to drive. So there I was this summer, pootling around in a gaily emblazoned Red driving school Vauxhall Corsa with one of those big spacky "L" triangles on the top. I used to get a bit confused at crossroads as to who had right of way and had started trundling right when I should have been waiting for a gap in the traffic approaching from the left. Driving instructor calmly applies the dual-control brake, leaving me sitting harmlessly yet stupidly in the middle of the crossroads.

Large estate car passes and blasts its horn unnecessarily. Its windows are down, and there is a twentysomething woman in the back, shaking her head pityingly at me. "Bloody learners," she sneers.

Before I knew what I was doing, my right arm shot out of the driver's window with middle finger proudly extended and I bellowed, "Fuck you - you CUNT". Her face was satisfyingly aghast.

"Please don't do that on your test," my instructor said quietly.

I might as well have done. I still haven't frigging passed it.
(Fri 13th Oct 2006, 17:02, More)

» Beautiful but Bonkers

Keep it in the family
One about a bloke for a change. Although it does involve a bonkers (well, borderline incestuous) woman too.

I embarked upon a tumultous and passionate relationship with D back when I was in college. Despite the best efforts of his extremely possessive family to split us up - including moving 200 miles away - we stuck together after we both left college. Said family were really the only fly in the ointment at that stage - but a fairly big one.

He had a twin sister. We'll call her Julie. Julie would continuously bemoan the fact she couldn't find anyone as attractive and wonderful as her brother. She'd smack his arse and call him sexy, and kiss him rather too lingeringly on the mouth. Sometimes, I'd spot her hand creeping up his inner thigh in the pub. Julie maintained a veneer of sweetness with me, but I was aware she really couldn't stand me.

Whilst such behaviour generated many an ucky shudder, I was blinded by love/ lust and reconciled myself to the fact they were a very tactile family. So, it was despite this, and the fact D could be slightly possessive (we had a few rows about the fact I worked with all men), we married 18 months later.

Julie wore black to the wedding.

Things quickly went tits up, as I realised D was as dysfunctional as the rest of his family. Some examples:

1. He was horrendously vain and I would catch himself staring in the mirror and saying "you're so gorgeous". However, if I tried to put make up on, he would deride me for looking slutty and trying to attract other men.

2. He ran up enormous phone bills fwapping to 0898 numbers whilst I was at work. These appeared on our itemised bill, interspersed with calls to his sister. Our phone was next to the front door, and many a time I would trip on his joyously discarded skiddy undercrackers when I came home from work.

3. Despite his insistence on working at his pissy job in Blockbuster Video till 4am in the morning (doing his "new release wall", allegedly) and various nights out with the boys, he was angry if I had any social life of my own.

4. He wanked off his cat the night before it got spayed ("It's the sort of thing a friend would do!").

5. Regardless of the fact I had a perfectly good job of my own, he told me he expected me to give it up and follow him wherever his career took him, like his mother had with his father. Missing the tiny detail that his father was a senior ranking officer in the Navy, whereas D had a pissy job in Blockbuster Video.

The final straw came when we went to stay with his family 8 months after we married. I had just undressed for bed when his father walked in without knocking, gave me a FAR too lingering kiss and groped me up ("You're my daughter now"). D didn't turn a hair.

I made it my business after that to commit adultery at the earliest possible opportunity and left him only weeks later.

He's onto his third divorce now, at the age of 33. I can't imagine why.

Length? Well, he had to have SOMETHING going for him.
(Wed 22nd Nov 2006, 10:35, More)
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