b3ta.com user lofichic
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» Insults

A friend of mine went into the late night garage. The obnoxious fat woman who worked there was serving...

"Can I have a Kit-Kat Chunky?"

She brought him over a Kit-Kat Chunky.

"What's this? I asked for a Kit-Kat."
(Fri 5th Oct 2007, 13:29, More)

» Bastard Colleagues

The legend of all...
I was going to post one of my tales, and I might later - the girl who broke down at the water cooler company I worked for when she found out it was filtered tap water, the "gent" I worked with who used to log his alcohol consumption on his timesheet... but the best tale belongs to my missus, and my many friends who have had the misfortune to work for this man.

So, Frank, as I shall call him (for that is not his name) owns a pub in Liverpool. He is a close relative of a very famous sportsman, and lives off of this family member's reputation, and I suspect his money. Frank is quite possibly the most odious man you would ever have the misfortune to work for - he is a hardcore cokehead, disappearing to the toilets for 10 minutes and turning back up chomping at the bit with white powder under his nose. The years of drug abuse have been unkind to him and he is mentally unstable, shouting and screaming one minute and being fairly stable the next. He hires only attractive women, with the occassional chap, asking staff to put a smiley/sad face on their CVs to denote their level of attractiveness before being called back to interview. One girl was reprimanded for putting smiley faces on people he found unattractive.

He screams at the girls at the bar, in front of customers, saying things like - "Sugar, if I was working on this bar, I would have cleaned that tap already" even though the bar is 12 deep with customers. He sexually harrasses them on a regular basis - one time, he asked a good friend of mine how much she cost for the night. She said he couldn't afford it so he got a roll of notes out of his pocket, waved them in her face, shouting, "is that enough sugar, is that enough??" Another, he pushed his semi erect shrivelled member into the back of one of the girls on the bar, whispering in her ear, "just enjoy it, sugar". Just last week, the staff were ordered to dress "like sluts" and flirt with his "millionaire friends" who were coming in for drinks. One of them went up to a girl on the bar and told her Frank had said that he could have his pick of the bar girls and she was coming home with him.

He refuses to pay tax, national insurance or holiday pay to the staff. When one of the lads who worked there was murdered, he wouldn't let the staff go to his funeral. He has been through more staff than bottles of cheap champagne due to his odious manner and sleazy antics.

The tales of Frank are numerous, outlandish, and 99% true. He talks about his fame around the land, although the only mention of him in the papers is the time he appeared in court having been the victim of a magic money scheme, where he gave some Italian men £10,000 to turn paper into £20 notes using green goo and a voodoo spell. What a tit. The defence insisted that there was no spell and that the money was paying of a blackmail attempt as the defendants had photographic evidence of him in a homosexual tryst. Who knows?

My favourite story of Frank is the most recent spate of mass staff walkouts. The security lad sat down at the end of his shift for a pint. Frank went mental because he had 10 minutes of his shift left to work, even though the place was empty, On CCTV you can clearly make out the sight of Frank, feet off the ground, swaying side to side, neck firmly gripped in the security guard's hand. The lad was screaming at him about his lack of respect for his staff, how he treated the girls like shit and how no one liked him and only spoke to him for free champagne. Frank followed this up by telling the guard's fiancee how he'd "never work in this city again, he's finished sugar, how do you feel about that?" - she told him to fuck himself and walked out.

The next day, a member of staff, Tim, who was in the night before had been drinking all day (for free) waiting for Frank to arrive. When he did, Tim launched at him, giving him what for, throwing a trainer at Frank's head. Frank looked at Tim, looked at the trainer, and picked it up and handed it back. Tim threw the trainer at his head again.

Apologies for the length, it's longer than Frank's.
(Fri 25th Jan 2008, 17:08, More)

» Political Correctness Gone Mad

I remembered another
University, fresher's week. I was sat in the canteen with three new friends from my course. Sarah was approached by a "ethnically" garbled, sandalwood smelling type inviting her to come to a gathering. It was obvious from the tone of the invitation that she had been singled out as a recipient for a welcome due to being black. She didn't take too well to this.
"Eer, alright, can I bring my mates?"
"I'm afraid it's a reception to welcome minority students, and there are very limited places..."
"Minority? *Gesturing* She's a Jew, she's a lesbian, and that one's a lesbian Jew! They need the help more than me."

A mind boggled silence fell over the table as we watched the well meaning home counties socialist worker comb her way through the black kids in the canteen inviting them to her gathering.

Sarah insisted she was just trying to score weed.
(Sun 25th Nov 2007, 2:47, More)

» Pathological Liars

Odd lies
I have my own unique brand of compulsive lying. It's all very strange. As a signed up member to the manic depression club, it happens during manic stages. It hasn't happened for many years. All of the interesting things that have happened in my life are true, all the tales I tell are true. I've been accused of lying about some things I've done but they're true. I only consciously lie about one small mundane thing, and while I'm doing it, I think - why on earth am I saying this? Alas...
For example: If asked to fetch milk from the shop, I will walk past the shop and think, I need to get milk, but then get home and say - "Oh, they're out of milk". "What about the shop next door?" "Out of milk also... bloody milk men..."

This is about the extent of it. I lie about going to the shops. The key thing is, I'm not covering my back, or doing it to not get my ear chewed off. I'm consciously not buying an item I'm asked to fetch, and then saying they don't stock it/have sold out.

That, along with the nights of not sleeping and sudden desire to train as a quantative financial analysist/become a careers advisor/insert unbelievably inane job role here, despite my actual interesting job, is the sole extent of the manic phases of my manic depression. I can't even pretend I'm a sea captain or decide I'm going to lead a cultural revolution. No, I lie about the local shop's stock level of lucozade and think about re-training as an actuary. That's mental illness for you.
(Thu 29th Nov 2007, 15:04, More)

» Beautiful but Bonkers

i notice how the young lads here refer to their "exes" as whores if they've slept with more people than they have. Being as this is b3ta, that must be 2 at the most.

I hid an exe's shoes when she cheated on me. She came home in the morning and had to go to work in trainers. It made me feel better. When I told her she said I was evil - but I'd only hidden them because at 4 in the morning what else do you do to placate yourself when your missus is banging her boss and didn't even come home to feed the cats, inconsiderate tart?
(Sat 18th Nov 2006, 23:14, More)
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