» Beautiful but Bonkers

Psycho-boy
This question seems a bit geared towards psycho-girls so i'm turning the tables on you boys. There are a lot of freakish weirdo men out there too, and all of them have been out with me. Here is the best of the bunch:

Gorgeous, blue eyes, amazing body. Total fucking nutter.
Here are just a few of the best bits of our 5 month relationship:
1) He threw a lampshade at me becuse I told him I wasn't hungry to eat the pizza he ordered without asking me.
2)He was jealous of my cat and kicked it once when it jumped up to sit on my knee.
3)He stopped me from seeing any of my male friends. Then he decided I couldn't see my females friends.
4)He banned me from looking at magazines ?!
5)He inspected my bed and claimed to have found "man-hairs" in it. He then thumped me.
6)He was Spanish. His parents told him that, because I was of the English persuasion, then I must be (to quote) "A fucking dirty whore".

These are just the biggies, but after I eventually stopped being such a knob and dumped him he stalked me for a further four bleeding months.

I got my own back though... I decided that the old motto "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" was the best course of action and set about being the worst kind of psychotic bitch possible with the help of one of my mad exes. We sent him rabbit's feet (the keyring type) covered in fake blood, we waited for him all over town, I called constantly wailing and asking to be forgiven... Result? He moved away. 400km away! Apparently he needed some counselling so I feel really quite bad about that. Hang on, no I don't. That guy kicked my kitty.
Now that's a result!
(Fri 17th Nov 2006, 14:33, More)

» Putting the Fun in Funeral

Uncle Ted
There seem to be a lot of these stories so far but I also seem to get the giggles at funerals - doesn't matter who we are burying. It must be something about not being allowed to laugh.
At my poor Uncle Ted's funeral (he was my favourite Uncle - you know, the one who stole your nose when you were little) I laughed so uncontrollably they wanted to send for a doctor. But honestly, it was because of my sister. She turned to look at me, crying hysterically to tell me "I can't believe Uncle Teddy has gone". She had a massive bogey hanging out of one nostril and looked like a panda because of her mascara. Not only that, but it sounded like she had said "I can't believe Uncle Teddy is a mong" because of how she was sobbing. Good times, eh?
Mum still hasn't forgiven me for ruining a "beautiful service". But I know that Uncle Teddy was pissing himself too.
(Thu 11th May 2006, 12:28, More)

» The Dark

The joys of night-blindness
I have a strange genetic condition which means my retina is slowly deteriorating. This will lead to eventual blindness. In the meantime, it provides some fun stuff like tunnel vision, night-blindness and, as a result, lots and lots of dodgy looking bruises from walking into things.

Night-blindness can make life hard, especially for seemingly normal activities of someone my age. Pubs and clubs are obstacle courses instead of fun places. I, however, have managed to put together a survival strategy for the most tedious of all problems - getting to the bog for a wazz. The strategy consists of the following:
a) Holding on until I'm literally this close to pissing myself. Keep that bladder trained;
b) Attempting to find a fellow friend who needs to go to lead me there;
c) Failing that, secret option number 3 comes into play. I find a random stranger (male or female, doesn't matter) and ask them to take me to the bog.

You'd be surprised how many pissed people find this request completely normal and actually wait for you outside to take you back to where they find you. I've even made some of my best friends this way. There have been hairy moments though which make me nervous going out at night. For example:
a) The six-foot bombshell who got creeped out by the five-foot blonde who constantly talked at her tits instead of looking at her face. It wasn't on purpose, I honestly thought I was talking to her face-to-face and I couldn't even see her fucking tits!
b) The scary man who insisted on not only accompanying me to the bog, but also on coming inside
c) Numerous tumbles down flights of stairs. Who the fuck puts flights of stairs in a club where it's dark. Loud. Full of drunk people.
d) Getting lost in a club and being escorted back to my friends by a guy who followed me around the rest of the night "just in case". Sweet.

Lastly, an anecdote. One of my friends' husbands is black as the ace of spades, as they say. She still hasn't forgiven me for being "racist" when, in a club, I looked straight through him and asked where he was. I told her that if he smiled more, I might have had a chance of seeing him. Miserable cunt.
(Wed 29th Jul 2009, 13:41, More)

» Will you go out with me?

Well.....
I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar..
(Sat 30th Aug 2008, 9:41, More)

» Missing body parts

I lost...
my hymen. Some bloke stole it off me.

John walker I'm watching you you filthy hymen-stealing ponce.

Yeep.
(Fri 2nd Jun 2006, 8:36, More)