b3ta.com user grr_boy
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Oh, I work in IT and its boring.

Live in the South West which is far more exciting.

As well as working and playing with computers I have a proper life with people who hate all things computer-related.

I live with my girlfriend who doesn't understand how I can spend so long playing on-line games, while I cant understand how she spends so long watching soap operas.

I only really drink Jack Daniels and dont really like lager. Contrary to popular opinion, this doesn't make me a gay.

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Best answers to questions:

» Crappy Prizes

Kinda won-ish
Its not something I won, really, but you'll understand..

Most people dont know that airports are allowed to auction off any unclaimed luggage left on their carousel after a certain amount of time, something like 18 months. However, they are not allowed to open the luggage, unless they believe it poses a security risk. So once in a while, a group of specially invited rich people (and scruffy me, who knew someone whose mum worked there) attend a dinner and a raffle where they auction off all the left luggage and give the proceeds to some charity or other.

As you can imagine, its quite good fun - its the nosiest thing you can do, looking through someone elses luggage y'see, so generally the women love it (not trying to be sexist, its just true). Generally though, there is nothing amazingly interesting - clothes, sun cream; things most people take on holiday, but it really is quite fascinating looking through other peoples things.. Most of these go for a decent sum (hundred quid or so), cause its charity and even if worse comes to worse you still get a (slightly dusty) suitcase.

Anyway, I was there, and cause I was a bit pissed decided to bid.. I waited for a battered looking one to come up and bid thirty quid, fully expecting someone to outbid me. However, they must have all been busy rutting their sister or something at the time, 'cause I only went and won it!

"Wooo!" Thought I. "I've gone and got myself a suitcase full of treasure. Its probably got gold and diamonds and crowns and treasure maps in." Looking back, I might have been slightly optimistic.. But you know how it is - something that you do is bound to be luckier than others...

Anyway, the time of collection came along - I went and paid my money and picked up the blue, slightly knackered suitcase/bag-thing.

It was lighter than I expected, but then again, I've never picked up a bag full of gold, so it was fine.

Got it home - broke the lock on it.. Pretty excited by now, as you might expect.. Opened it up.. Peered inside, wondering about the fortune it contained, and it was....

Absolutely fuck all.

Some !CUNT! had bothered to bring back an empty suitcase, and then clearly just thought "What the fuck am I doing? I'll just leave it here, for some happy-go-lucky, jovial chap to spend thirty of his hard-earned pounds on, while I am non the wiser somewhere else in the world."

I was fucking gutted.

No riches. No treasure trove.
F-U-C-K A-L-L.

I've never forgiven this random stranger. If you ever meet someone who said, "I once left an empty suitcase at Bristol airport. Ha-ha-ha." Can you go whoops-upside-his-head for me please, and ask for, nay demand, thirty pounds.

Thanks B3ta. Its been cathartic. I might let it go now. Maybe even give a quid or two to charity again.

Edit: Oh, just previewed that and its far too long. Never mind - its work time, and im getting paid, and you almost certainly are too.
(Thu 4th Aug 2005, 12:22, More)

» Have you ever paid for sex?

Lets say a friend...
Right then, I work in an office, sitting at a desk all day doing, what dull stuff with computers.. As I see it, the more fag breaks I have during the day, the better off I am as Im being paid to smoke, right?
Well, the other day I went smoking, outside as normal, and, as normal, there was a few people all smoking at the same time. Well, as with most fairly large offices, there were people who i knew very well, people i knew less well and people who i dont really know at all... They were all blokes, chatting about blokey things.
The normal bollocks we chat about turned to Amsterdam and then the talk moved on to dodgy hookers and people who go to them..
One of the people who I didn't know that well piped up. "Yeah, I've been to loads. Been to most of the knocking shops in Bristol and loads in Amsterdam too!".
Mild shock occured at this point, as you've gotta remember, this isn't actually a mate or anything, this is just someone we work with. But fair enough - he's clearly not embarrased about it, lets not judge.

Hmmm... If only he'd stopped there.. Ahh.. My mind would have been pure. As it is he, unfortunatly, continued.

"In fact, I was in Prague once, and thats how I got this scar [Points to small scar on forehead]! I had been smoking all day and was pilled right up so decided to go and get my end away."

Hmm.. Where is this going...

"So I went to this whorehouse I found, I was fucking out my tree, and paid my money, and it was one of those brothels with a Jacuzzi in it. There was this bird in there all waiting, like, so I started getting my clothes off, and I was so horny and fucked I fell face first into the side of the bath!"

Good Lord. What kind of people do I work with?

"So this girl started screaming and before I knew what was happening, two bouncers had kicked the door in and had me pinned up against the wall."

Right, thought I, so he got a kicking and was taught the error of his ways, possibly breaking the 'lady-of-the-night' out of her vicious drug-abuse cycle, such is the power of romance. But no.

"Luckily the prozzie explained what had happened, and they were so nice about it - made sure I was OK, and got me a plaster [band-aid to you Yankees who read this] and wished me well."

Ahh.. Thats nice. Story of people the world over being nice to an injured fellow human. Anyway, finished smoki.. What the.. He's carrying on.. hmmm..

"So then they left, and I thought, fuck this, i've paid my money, i wanna get a fuck. So I checked it was alright and got back in. So I was in the jacuzzi, getting wanked off by this prozzie, then I decided to fuck her - so we went to the bed and i climbed on and started to fuck the shit out of her."

Nice. He was mimeing fucking this prozzie. Outside of FUCKING WORK!

"Anyway I was just about to come, and the plaster comes off again, blood starts pissing over her face, and I fucking loved it! I shot my bolt just seeing that! Course she was screaming again and the bouncers burst back in, but she explained that it wasn't anything serious and they patched my up again and I walked out happily!"

I was stood there - mouth open, agog at the story I'd just heard. I couldn't quite belive it.. I mean this is a guy who i dont know that well, who i WORK with who has just told me one of the worst stories I've ever heard.

We all went back inside and emails were flying about between all the people who were outside.. Basically, he'd told us that seeing this prozzie covered in blood and screaming was the best thing he'd ever seen, and it made him shoot his load.
I'm still decideing whether to call the pigs out.

This is, unfortunatly, a true story. Sorry everyone.
He's actually a fairly alright bloke though. Apart from wanting to kill whores.

Oh, and for people from work who know who I am, his initials are DB. Scary scary DB.
(Mon 23rd Jan 2006, 17:39, More)

» The Police

The fucking police
My story started when I was walking through Weston-Super-Mare high street in June of 1990 , and I saw someone running out of HMV (or something) being chased by two fat, sweaty security guards shouting in their walkie-talkies, clearly wanting to be coppers. Their equally excitement-lacking colleagues ran out of nearby shops (Top Shop etc) and managed to deck this thieving little scrote. I walked off, and I guess the police turned up and gave him a coffee or something equally lame, however, as I said I had gone.

Anyway, later on that night I was out on the piss in town (I’ve done it so you don’t have to, trust me. Just don’t bother.) and I saw what I thought was the same bloke again. I kinda recognized him, although was wearing different clothes etc. Naturally, I avoided him, he would have probably mugged me or something, despite the fact that he was out with two mates and clearly having a good time, singing and drinking. Anyway, the night wore on and I kept seeing these three lads, one time, two of them were in the toilet together chatting bollocks.
“Fuckin’ hell Stewart” Said one “You ‘eard that Andy got done over earlier”
Naturally, as we were all in the toilet together I was listening anyway, but my ears pricked up a bit I guess, as I assumed they were chatting about what had happened earlier..
“Yeah” said the other “Like he’d be nicking tapes from that shit-hole!”

I was wondering about it and being the pissed up twat I am decided to be the bravest I had ever been and ask about it.
“Squse me.” I slurred. “But I think I saw that, on the high street earlier right?”

They both looked round at me.
“Yeah. That’s right.” The one (I assume was) called Steward said, clearly wanting me to fuck off.

“Well I saw it – although I didn’t see him nicking anything, but I saw him get piled on by loads of security guards.” I told them, wishing I’d not said anything.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING?” The slightly thin, but fairly hard one replied.

It wasn’t until just before he punched my in the face, my nose exploding in a cascade of blood and mucus that I recognized him.
It was fucking Sting.
And that’s how I got in trouble with the Police.

Sorry. That’s a minute of you’re life you’re not getting back.
I win, right? Right?
p.s. People who miss points – this is an entirely fictional story. I made it up, based purely on the 'punchline'. Apart from Weston being shite. It really, really is.

(Tue 27th Sep 2005, 16:39, More)

» Weddings

"I'll just make up the speech on the spot"
One of my mates decided to have a couple of best men, as is becoming more common.. Nothing unusual there o'course, but neither of them wanted to write a speech, saying that "It would feel more natural to say whatever came into his head."
Wedding was approaching, but dispite much suggesting from friends that this was a BAD idea, neither of them wrote anything..

Wedding came and went without problems, then the speeches started, with us slightly chuckleing to ourselves about how bad it was going to be.
The tone was set when the first one started the speech, in front of all the relatives, grandmothers etc.. "I FUCKING love this guy!" then goes on to just basically say that over and over, but phrasing it slightly differently each time. Manages to say cunt about three times, before getting the bride up and telling her that he "would".

The second best man, mumbles something about "fucking loving this guy" and then sitting down.

Everybody was in shock for a while. Its not often people say cunt in wedding speeches.

Wooo - first post. Go me. Now, commence the lurking!

I used to live with a guy called Lengh. I used to apologise about him. Does that count?
(Fri 15th Jul 2005, 10:46, More)

» Scary Neighbours

I used to have a really nice neighbour who always had offered to bath my daughers and had a collection of slighly burned Manchester United shirts.

Nice man.. Mr Huntly or something..

Wonder what happened to him?

*giggles at the 'too far-ness' of this answer*
(Thu 25th Aug 2005, 14:57, More)
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