» Guilty Secrets

Logging calls
I hate my boss at work, and this leads me to some inappropriate behaviour...like my propensity to 'work from home' on Fridays. This makes me feel a bit guilty, but what really gives me a guilty pleasure is that when he calls me from the office I go into the toilet to take a dump and/or piss whilst talking to him about 'strategy'. I don't know why, it's just something about disrespecting him...
(Fri 31st Aug 2007, 16:08, More)

» Pathological Liars

Why do they think they'll get away with it?
I have known two compulsive liars in my time, the first guy was at secondary school, and he would tell all kinds of lies, which I mostly believed (gullible I know). He said:

* He'd pulled David Couthard's girlfriend when he went to the British grand prix
* He'd inherited tons of money from a long lost Uncle, but a month later, through some family argument he'd been disinherited, so was no richer.
* He was named in a high profile divorce with some couple who none of us knew - I actually believed this...
* He'd boxed an an amateur level
* He knew Steven Spielberg, and had sent him some script ideas for a new Indiana Jones film.
* He'd had testicular cancer but was fine now.

There were loads of these stories, but I believed most of them, and it was only when some friends started laughing about the stories last year that I realised they were mostly bollocks.

This experience did, however, prepare me for the most prolific liar I've ever met. It was at uni, and this guy called Dave would lie about everything. I can't remember all the lies but here are a selection:

* He'd been selected to play cricket for the county (he was quite a good cricketer, so this was possible) and they'd given him an MG as payment...the only problem with this is that we knew people who played at this level and knew this was crap. When some of the guys visited him at home later that year he 'briefed' them before coming into his parents house. Apparently he told them "you can't mention the MG as it has caused a real rift with my Mum, and it upsets her to even talk about it. I had to get rid of it, but it's best if it goes unmentioned".

* He broke his nose in an "accident" (he wouldn't say what kind). To repair the damage they had screwed in a metal plate. He claimed he could feel the screw heads, and that fridge magnets could stick to his nose - we tried to stick one to him and he went nuts, claiming it would rip his nose open. He almost shat ourselves laughing at that one.

* He made up stories that the girl he was seeing was suicidal. I knew her mates, and they were all far more concerned about Dave, as they all knew he was a complete fantasist.

There were a couple of people that really hated his lying, and it reached a peak when he came in one day saying he'd just been to Sainsbury's...one of the lads leaped up saying "No you didn't Dave! I bet you fucking went to Tesco!". It really was so bad that no one believed a single thing he told them.
(Fri 30th Nov 2007, 12:23, More)

» The worst sex I ever had

Torn banjo string
I was seeing a girl at uni who was a wonderful shag - she could go at it for hours, and was up for trying just about anything. She really was wonderful, which is why I feel so guilty about my behaviour.

One night after much booze in the pub, we got back to mine and fell into bed in the usual drunken frenzy that alcohol brings on. We were doing doggy, and on one particularly aggressive stroke I felt a searing pain. I stopped momentarily, and then thought fuck it, and kept going.

Post climax I pulled out and to my horror saw that I'd torn my banjo string (or the Frenulum of prepuce of penis if you've studied anatomy)! not wanting to admit what had happened (why?!), I lay face down and went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning to an apology from my partner, who couldn't believe she'd been on her period. She took the sheets home to clean them, and as really nice to me for weeks...and continued to be nice to me when I confessed what had actually happened.

She was lovely, but the pain made it my worst sex ever.
(Mon 18th Jun 2007, 14:49, More)

» Sleepwalking

One November a few years ago...
Myself and my flatmate (Neil) were out drinking. We'd consumed a vast amount of booze, but managed to get ourselves home (via a kebab shop, naturally). We got home and headed to bed. I went to sleep easily, due in no small part to the levels of alcohol in my system.

My next memory was of a cold feeling in my feet. I was standing outside my flat. I thought for a moment I was dreaming, but that faded quickly as I turned to see my front door was firmly shut. So there I stood outside the flat in my boxers, feeling cold and confused.

Easy enough to sort this out I thought, I'll just knock and get Neil to open the door. Unfortunately Neil was catatonic and wouldn't wake up. So after quite some time knocking and shouting through the letter box, I wandered outside to see if I could climb up to the flat (it was only first floor). I quickly realised that climbing would be stupid as I was still pissed, never that good at climbing, and concrete would be my crash mat. So, I started scrabbling around for stones to throw at the windows to wake Neil up.

Nothing worked, so I resorted to bellowing through the letter box...I'm sure my neighbours must have thought I was going nuts.

Eventually Neil woke from his slumber and opened the door to be greeted by me in my shorts with muddy feet, looking cold and deeply unhappy. He said he'd heard the stones hitting the windows but thought the noise was in his head!

I haven't been sleepwalking since (as far as I know), but now I always wear a bit more to bed when it's cold outside.
(Mon 27th Aug 2007, 14:01, More)