b3ta.com user Ott3r
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» The B3TA Confessional

Baby monitors..
Ah. Well, it was like this you see... I lived in a little terraced house, in an area popular with young families. When the baby Ott3r arrived, amidst a storm of primary coloured plastic and weird things that I still haven't worked out the use of, we bought a baby monitor. It turns out that there are only so many frequencies, and after rushing upstairs to calm the cries of mysteriously sleeping baby on a couple of occasions, we figured out that someone was using OUR frequency. Well, something had to be done. So, in the wee small hours of the morning... I picked up the "transmit" bit of the baby monitor, and started speaking into it....

And so it was that a house a few doors up the street suddenly lit up as the lights were switched on, and (I can only imagine) the concerned parents rushed to baby's room to find the source of a creepy babylike voice that was repeating the words "Satan is my Maaaaaster, Satan is my Maaaaaster.."

I'm not proud.
(Thu 26th Aug 2010, 17:22, More)

» Too much information

I still cringe...
Twas summer. I spent most of my days hanging out at the open air pool in Scarborough, (I know..)drinking beer chilled in the fountains, and rubbing in Hawaian Tropic.. When it came to pass that out of the changing rooms came a girl I had done the dirty with the night before... The walk from the changing rooms to the sunny side of the pool was a long one, and the time she took to walk around the edge of the pool was time I used to good effect - boosting my sex god credentials by telling my friends every detail of the dirty, filthy evening thet had gone before... As she approached, I basked in the approval of my peers. Closer ... and I voiced the opinion that she was obviously up for some more Ott3r lovin.... As she laid out her towel immediaely behind me I heard her utter the words that I'll never forget.

"Hi Mum, Hi Dad..."

The silence that followed haunts me still.
(Sun 9th Sep 2007, 0:33, More)

» Insults

Whilst on a biz trip to Geneva (very posh, thank you) my colleagues and I noticed that the taxis hovering around the very very posh hotels were large swanky Mercs (I think that they were S Class, but not really being a car buff I could be wrong.) Back home, and some days later after a very refreshing evening in the smoke we needed a taxi, and in our very refreshed state we noticed a large posh Merc coming into view - cue three drunks trying to hail the poshest cab in London town. All would have been forgotten if it wasn't for the red faced fury of the driver, who presumably having spent umpty thousand ponds on his motor wasn't best pleased. We however were very pleased with the reaction, and now try to use this technique at every opportunity, and have extended our repertoire to Bentleys and the like. The word "taxi" is hardly an insult, but the reactions we get would seem to suggest otherwise. I can reccommend it to anyone. It's hardly agitprop, but every time I hear the phrases like "..the haves, and the have yachts" I feel a little bit happier thinking that I've done my bit in raising the average blood pressure of the rich bastards. Go on - you know you want to....
(Mon 8th Oct 2007, 9:56, More)

» Rock and Roll Stories

On Stage With Girlschool..
"Storming the Castle" is a big biker bash held up in Durham - in September. Now at this time of year the field where the bash takes place is riddled with shrooms... fast forward to saturday night where myself and a mate were wandering around enjoying the effects of the said shrooms. Time came to find the bar, and we tried in vain to find the entrance to the huge marquee which held the bar, bands and about 3000 bikers. Eventually we found an opening in the canvas, strolled in whereupon things got a bit confusing.....
Me: "Why have these girls got guitars?"
Mate:"Errr.. dunno...
*turns round slowly*
Me: "Why are all those people looking at us?"
Mate: "Ulp."

It's amazing how paranoid you can get when you're being stared at by a coule of thousand bikers. The bouncers were surprisingly gentle...
(Tue 4th Jul 2006, 14:24, More)

» Picky Eaters

Zombie Dinner Ladies
I have a food quirk, and what's more I know where it came from. It's all down to the arrangement. I have to have all the different foods in their own clearly defined areas of the plate. They can touch, but not overlap. Simple eh? And where does this quirk come from? Evil feckin sloppy dinner ladies at school - I still seethe silently when I remember queueing up with my little tin tray to have all of the food slopped into it in one big mixed up pile of shite. The vacant stare, the near automatic scoop and slop movement, and the unspoken challenge - as if to say "Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?" As I type this people are looking round to see why my keystrokes have the weight of hammer blows. Rot in hell zombie dinner ladies, rot in hell.

I'm going for a lie down now.
(Fri 2nd Mar 2007, 11:27, More)
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