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The anti-flounce!

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» Messing with the Dark Side

Oh dear, dead arm
I've had a few creepy experiences, like the time the Ouija board told me I would start World War 20 with the American Food and Drug Administration (WW XX USFDA). But here's the worst of them:

I woke up in the middle of the night feeling very odd indeed. I rolled over to go back to sleep, but all the sudden something cold, clammy, and unusually heavy fell over my mouth, as if it was trying to suffocate me. I freaked out and began to struggle against it. Oh my god, I thought, someone has broken into my room in the middle of the night and wants to do me in. But oddly enough, this evil person wasn't trying too hard to keep me down, so I grabbed at the cold, dead-feeling hand and pushed it away from me...

And realized it was my other hand.

Which I had apparently fallen asleep upon, cutting off the circulation and leaving it numb and immobile. Rolling over had caused it to fall on my face.

Scared the hell out of me though...

Luckily the dead arm warmed up a few minutes later and is now fully functional.
(Sun 23rd Apr 2006, 4:07, More)

» Teenage Parties

I went to high school in the States
I know, I know, get over it.

Anyroad, the legal drinking age there is 21, and I believe that as a result it makes teenagers even more stupid when they get an underage drink. The school I went to was the equivalent of a large comprehensive (2000 students), but a very good one...and some of the kids were ridiculously rich with morons for parents.

One May, two mothers decided to hold a party for a bunch of girls - some in year 12 (the last year for everyone) and some in 11. The mothers bought kegs upon kegs of cheap beer and hosted the parties in one of their houses. After getting plastered, the girls went to the local forest preserve to have a wee game of American football.

Except, instead of playing football, they beat the living shit out of each other.

The year 12 girls made the year 11s kneel in the mud and tossed fish guts, swine innards, and even human feces all over them. One girl had a bin put over her while a huge meathead of a boy hit her/the bin with a baseball bat. Her skull got cracked open. Another had her earrings torn out through the cartilage. There were at least 100 students watching, yet none of them ran for the police or rang for an ambulance. But they did videotape the fighting and sell it to TV news.

Now you see, it was a very slow week in the news. This was EVERYWHERE in America. The hidden violent side of girls! The not-so-hidden stupid side of rich housewives who buy beer for 16-year-olds so that their kids can be popular! Students were all over the airwaves whining, "What's the big deal? She just got her head split open, it's not like anybody died!" But it didn't stop there...it also appeared on Moscow Radio and on Al-Jazeera (see, this is what happens when you give Western women equality).

...If they had been black boys in the inner-city who beat a girl until she was permanently half-deaf, they would have been chucked in jail. But because they were rich white girls with sleazy lawyers, they got a year of probation and a few hours "community service."

Stupid mothers. Don't throw parties for your rich teenage girls. Two good things came of it - one, graduation ceremonies went really quick as 35 people were expelled. Two, we figured out who had collected the bucket of human shit, because her community service was emptying out the bedpans of old folks.
(Fri 14th Apr 2006, 21:17, More)

» Crap meals out

Happy birthday to meeeee
For my 18th birthday, my parents took me to a rather posh Italian restaurant that we'd heard about for quite some time but had never visited. We sat down, ordered, and I have to admit the food was lovely...the restaurant was another story.

First, the drunk woman. Now, I know it's customary to drink wine with Italian food. But she was shit-faced on the house red and it wasn't even nine at night. Unfortunately, this was the kind of woman who became very talkative when drunk, and she felt that she needed to gesture wildly to prove her point. Anyway, after finishing one sentence, she made a final gesture with her refilled wine glass and smacked it back down on the table for emphasis. Only, she missed the table, and threw it to the floor right next to me, where it shattered to bits and a large chunk of it ricocheted against my arm (no blood, phew).

So the waiters cleaned Drunky up, she paid, and she left. Soon we decide we ought to leave, too, as we were getting a decidedly bad vibe. We gave the waiter our credit card. Business as usual, right? Well, we waited for our card to be returned...and we waited...and we waited...

Where the cock was our credit card?

We asked the waiter, and his response was, "I just gave it back to you."

Funny. I reckon we would have remembered getting a credit card back, as we would have had to sign the cheque.

Now, my da isn't exactly the largest, most imposing man, but NEVER try to argue something like this with him. He will mop the floor with your lame little argument, wring you out, and drop you back in the bucket where you belong. The waiter dashed off to get the owner of the restaurant, who turned on the charm and said, "Oh, sir, sorry, this happens all the time. We must have had this happen 25 times already tonight!"

Needless to say, we didn't buy that for one second. It's essentially impossible to lose 25 credit cards in a wee room like that. Unless, of course, someone "lost" it down their trouser pocket.

So my da told him in no uncertain terms to go find this credit card, along with the other 24 the restaurant had supposedly lost in the past three hours. I sensed some theatrics were needed, so I put on my best why-did-you-have-to-wreck-my-birthday-by-stealing-our-credit-card face. Eventually the manager told us, so, so sorry sir, when we find it we'll post it back to you...just give us your address!

By now we sensed that something was seriously amiss and we got the hell out of there, went home, and reported the credit card stolen by those twunts.

So that's how my family got an 70 quid meal at a posh restaurant, free!

Apologies for length...but I have to say, it was the best Italian meal I'd ever had.
(Sun 30th Apr 2006, 4:57, More)

» Missing body parts

I had a pilonidal cyst.
A pilonidal cyst is a recurrent, painful, pus-filled abcess AT THE TOP OF YOUR ARSE CRACK.

They most commonly occur in hairy-arsed, overweight men.

I am a not-hairy-arsed, skinny girl.

I had surgery (after which I came around from the anesthesia singing "You'll Never Walk Alone") and was left with a gaping hole at the top of my crack, which healed itself - no scars or anything. But for the few weeks after the ball of packing fell out and before it filled itself in, it was the strangest feeling ever.

But the bottom line is, I had arse surgery. HA HA HA HA HA.
(Fri 2nd Jun 2006, 0:19, More)

» Best Graffiti Ever

Simple and to-the-point
In the Tube a couple years ago there were all these posters for a George Michael album. They showed him sitting on a couch looking rather contemplative.

So of course, someone made a speech bubble that read, "I AM A BIG NONCE."

As you do.
(Sun 6th May 2007, 15:54, More)
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