well, we ARE a little bit on the overcrowded side...

(Thu 11th Feb 2010, 13:42, More)

» Crappy relationships

the hose beast
i won't bore you with too many details
i dated a girl briefly once. she introduced herself to me by telling me her mate fancied me. after spending all night chatting to her, about said 'mate' she reveals it's actually her. kinda fucked up, but sweet enough i think.

we date for a while. loads sex, loads fun. then it begins.
first she tells me she's pregnant, i freak internally but tell her i'll do what i need to to support her, though from choice, i'd say we're both too young, poor, and not ready to be parents. she then tells me she was lying, she made it up because she really liked me and needed to know how i'd react if something did happen.

a while later, she got mad over nothing, then dumped me. then undumped me the next day. this became a recurring theme, i was too infatuated to say no.

then, one evening, i had some bad news. a friend had been found by this girl i was also good mates with, hanging in his flat. a good guy with a lot of problems. i was gutted. i arid to meet this girl for a drink because i knew they were so close and she was in a bad state.
the girlfriend, let's call her bitch, because invoking her name, even now, nine years later, tends to have, shall we say, repercussions, tells me in no uncertain terms i WILL be back home by nine.
i tell her i'll be back when i'm back and not to push it, today's been hard.
she dumps me again, screams obscenities at me. now i've NEVER been unfaithful, not ever. no reason for jealousy. i just walked out. went to talk about my dead friend. got back, lights out, room trashed to fuck, Bitch gone.

next morning she calls, all apologetic, says i'm not REALLY dumped. i tell her too little too late, if you don't mean things don't say em, we're done.

this prompted the worst six months of my life so far.
started with her telling me she was pregnant. standard.
i asked in light of the earlier situation if she could provide some kind of proof.. doctor's letter, hell, piss on a stick.. nothing. i told her till she did then i was treating it as another lie, but i was prepared to do the right thing if it wasn't.
then began the threatening texts, phone calls. i had to get her number, her mum, sister, brother, friends, workplace's numbers and emails, mobile and landline added to the blacklist so i could actually get work done.
i had to get her barred from the building by security. i had to get them to let me leave via the back entrance, because she'd be waiting for me outside on lunch, after work, attacking me in the street, screaming, crying, screaming for help then telling people i was trying to rape her.
then she started turning up at my house. one time, i came in, found the back door open, and she came at me with a fuckin breadknife screaming like a banshee.
she started telling anyone who would listen i was forcing her to have an abortion against her will. and believe me, it's amazing the amount who will listen if you're a new face on the scene and some girl is sucking their dick while saying how scared she is of you.
threats of violence from her friends, my new and now ex-friends, her family started. her dad and big brother turning up at my house in their car and sitting on the driveway calling me out. she assaulted my landlord, who is NOT someone you fuck with.. i got the flak for it.
one time i remember she was screaming in the back garden, tearing out clumps of her hair, went inside to try and minimise the neighbours getting pissed, and she started smacking her head on the floor, then BING, she went from banshee, to calm, blank eyed space cadet, developed a cockney accent out of nowhere and started going 'we''l be awwight, oi know ya loves me really'
gives me fucking chills.
she started leaving children's toys on the doorstep with notes saying shit like 'this is for our baby, you have to come with me to the clinic'
i did, she didn't turn up.
then when the abortion story ran dry, she changed tack. started telling everyone i'd got her HIV positive. finally, i reached a point where i had nowhere to run. i knew she had enough on me cos of my drug related activities i couldn't go to the police, so i moved house, job and social circle to get away.
it took three years before i could go out in reading again without fear, and even then she'd corner anyone i was with and harangue them with tales of how i was a rapist, had aids, beat her, anything and everything would fall out of that cunt's mouth like poison.
years later, and i mean years, maybe 8, i ran into another guy who'd been my predecessor. he had to get a restraining order against her. found out she went to a luxury holiday camp for a bit, the kind that pads the walls and everything is on room service.

about a year and a half back, i went for a job interview, aced it, got told i would be hearing back very son, saw her in the lobby on the way out.. an hour later i get a call, i'm not technically able enough. really? i told the fuckin interviewer something she didn't know. i KNOW it was her.

i'm withholding her name not to protect her, but to protect me. she's a bit lawyer-happy for someone who's a walking harassment suit, as i found to my cost when i retold a story like this to someone i thought i could trust not that many years back.

overall it taught me valuable lessons about trusting people, and self preservation.
reading. it breeds crazy bitches, and to them, i'm like a fluorescent light to a moth.

apologies for length. it's not funny either. bad times.
(Fri 22nd Oct 2010, 15:12, More)

» Customers from Hell

more bike shop tales of woe
we had this steretypical asian rudeboy come in (lines shaved in hair & eyebrow- check. comically large avirex leather jacket with more logos than a designer's portfolio- check. large diamante stud earring- check. 'innit' in place of punctuation- check)
so this guy's got an issue with his bike (not bought from us- some catalogue thing) he bring it in for a quote. we tell him, £30 if we can salvage the part £50 if we have to replace it. he leaves a contact number, goes, we do the work.

when he comes back in, he starts arguing the price. we tell him it's not negotiable, he agreed it, and if he doesn't want to pay we can simply remove the new bits, replace the broken ones, and he can have it back. so he starts calling us all every name under the sun, then , in an almost unbelievably disingenuous manner, he flips to 'polite' mode and syas ok, let me take it for a test ride.
so OBVIOUSLY we ask for a deposit before he leaves the shop (no WAY was he going to come back and pay)
he starts screaming, 'are you calling me a fuckin THIEF blud? i'l fuckin BANG YOU blud, you don't know me, etc etc.. eventually settles on leaving the massive diamond stud earring (i was out back, i'd NEVER have taken that £10 argos piece of shit as security, despite his claims it's £500 gucci bling)
so obviously, he fucks off and doesn't come back.
so we ring the contact number one more time before we give up, it's a landline, and hey presto, who do we get?
a local imam (his dad!!)
we explain the situation, and the guy's attitude.. within one hour, the dad is in asking to see bills and so on, another half hour passes, and the dad, complete with VERY embarassed looking rudeboy, come back in, dad makes him apologise, pay up, and then starts tearing this guy a new asshole in the shop, saying how he's ashamed, and the kid's a disappointment, and how he's not allowed to drive the car and so on.. man that was nice. karma's a bitch.
(Sat 6th Sep 2008, 12:18, More)

» Random Acts of Evil

supermarket takedown / parenting by proxy
picture the scene. you're in a morrisons. you're hung to the over. you're halfheartedly scouring the shelves for some ingredient for the night's meal. in the aisle is a woman on her mobile, talking very loudly about absolutely nothing at all, clearly something she's a great authority on, in a snooty middle england nasal voice. to pad the scene, let's imagine she's got a bottle of overpriced balsamic vinegar in one hand.
her delightful offspring is running amok, yelling like a banshee, pushing past shoppers, swinging some kind of toy lightsaber round, knocking stuff off shelves. round and round the aisle he goes. knocks past me once, twice, pushing past imperiously as if i am at fault for DARING to impede his speedy process past the canned legumes section with my bulky presence.
as he clears the end of the aisle, the doppler effect reliably informs me he is once again approaching.
as the patter of feet gets louder, and the yelling increases, it suddenly occurs to me that the very thing i seek could be on the opposite shelf, so, without further ado me, and my heavy, child face height wire basket of tins and root veg turn to face the other shelf.

*spang*
*intake of breath*
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*gulp*AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! MUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! *gulp* aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA


oops.
(Fri 17th Feb 2012, 11:09, More)

» Public Sex

not quite public but close
i was up early one morning banging the sass out of my then gf on the couch in the lounge. the doorbell went, and thinking it was the postman with my long awaited bike parts, i leapt up, coverd myself with the one thing to hand- HER dressing gown (i'm a big lad, she was a small girl) and answered the door.
there, on the doorstep, eager smiles fading to horror, were two very young looking jehovah's witnesses.
i was obviously red-faced and sweating, panting like a dog on a hot day, wearing a VERY revealing small pink dressing gown with some kind of floral motif. one of them started to mumble somethign about redemption and so on, and then fell silent, his horrified gaze heading downwards... i followed his eyes to find out the due to a wardrobe malfunction, little peteloaf was also staring belligerently at them, red-faced and twitching.
i uttered the immortal line 'you're not the postman!' and slammed the door on them.

poor bastards
no-one needs to see a 6'3" sweaty behemoth in a tiny dressing gown with a raging hardon, demanding to know why you're not the postman at that time of day, not even jovies.
(Wed 29th Apr 2009, 21:37, More)

» Cringe!

kill the reverb!
sitting on a bus shelter 'bench' you know the 5" wide plastic bit designed to resist the sleepy embrace of your hobo types.
earphones in, waiting for the bus. pretty girl sat at opposite end of the bench. we exchanged glances, a smile.. saw her most days on the route. AND she was my type. she's got her earphones in, so i decided to relieve the building pressure in my beleaguered colon before we got into a more intimate (enclosed) bus environment.
lifting a cheek surreptitiously, i snuck out a quick toot. glancing her way, not a flicker. emboldened by my success, i decided to tryr and shift the mother lode.

alas, due to the shiny nature of the seat, and the thin material of my kecks, the two elements conspired against me. unbeknownst to me, i appeared to have the kind of rectal pressure required to summon cthulhu.. a quick crack, a pop, then the beats was free.. growling like an infuriated rottweiler with a megaphone, my arse drummed a staccato warning of impending disaster on the bench... reverberations rattled the glass of the flimsy shelter, her head snapped round, a look of shock and disbelief on her face, clearly doubting the rumbling to be of human origin and maybe hoping for my look of confirmation that the world was indeed about to end.
alas, my bright red face did little to reassure her.
then the Smell made itself known. this Smell deserves capitalisation. shit this Smell should probably be allowed to vote and drive a motor vehicle. it was indescribable, picture underpants from the bottom of satan's laundry basket, boiled with week-old sprouts and rotting egg, sieved through the putrid corpse of a fox and regurgitated by john prescott after six pints of bitter and a kebab and you're close. this smell was nearly visible. i initially hoped it would sink to ground level and slink away to join a telemarketing company somewhere, but a capricious breeze bore the beast aloft and to the nose of said fair maiden. she blanched visibly, and stood up, moved upwind, and shot horrified glances at the source of this vile outburst, the now nearly purple peteloaf, vehemently wishing the ground would swallow him, and smelling like old nick himself was hiding in his grundies.

when we got on the bus, she made a beeline for the front window seat and opened it fully.

dammit
cockblocked my my own colon.
(Wed 3rd Dec 2008, 18:06, More)