» Stalked

I've got no Crazy Ex Stalkers, but...
1. The Internet Stalker

When I was at university I had too much time on my hands and I would often spend my time in the computer labs gaming rather than doing any actual work. On one such game was a sad sap of a guy who was about 15 years older than myself, religious in a warped sense and was still living with mummy and daddy in America. I was stupid enough to make friends with him cos I felt sorry for him and no one would help him... that should have been my cue to block/ignore him. To cut a long story short this guy was nice as pie one minute - we were pen pals via email and post but then he went pyscho. I should have guessed from the red rose e-card he sent me on my birthday that he had more than friendship in mind (I suppose one could say I was naive but I had no interest in this guy in -that- way whatsoever so I never considered it to be an option). One day I logged on to the computer game we both played and he was threatening to commit suicide if I didn't talk to him for hours on end or if I talked to anyone else but him but at the same time he lied to a couple of mutal friends of ours by pretending to be a new player... a girl and saying that I was stalking "her". I ditched that game for six months and ignored all emails from this guy. When I returned Mr/Ms Stalker had vanished and one of the people who he had lied to finally plucked up the courage to ask whether I was gay or not. I think I disappointed her when I revealed I was not the crazy lesbian stalker she was led to believe I was.

2. A Close Call

I used to walk home alone from university every day and thought not much of it even though the route took me along a quaint little high street, down a long hill and then through an industrial estate to get to ones of the roughest districts of our fair city where I lived. So it came as a complete surprise to me when I was stopped at the top of the high street by a man old enough to be my father/grandfather asking me if I was a student. Not thinking much of it I told him yes and carried on walking. At the end of the high street I was stopped again by the man who had seeming came from nowhere. The man then asked where I was from to which I mumbled a general response before hurrying down the hill. The man then reappeared (again seemingly from nowhere) at the bottom of the hill and then asked me out. By this time I was totally creeped out and emphasized that I was already going out with someone who was expecting me home any minute now before legging it.

A couple of days later it was reported in the local newspaper of some stalker guy who was targeting foreign female students in that same area (if it was just looks then I'd pass for such a student), trying to entice them into his car before sexually assaulting them. I reported this incident to the police and made sure that I always got a lift to and from university after that.

3. Mr Sheep (My insignificant other)

My other half, Mr Sheep revealed to me that before he "officially" asked me out that he stalked me around the local nightclub and bar for 2 weeks... about 5 years into our relationship. I didn't notice him - opps!

4. Mr Sheep's (My insignificant other's) Stalker

Mr Sheep was stalked many years ago by a neighbour. I shall refer to her as M, a not-very-bright (2 watt bulb) but kindly natured girl with a personality bypass, looks of a blonde suicidal springer spaniel, a habit of flashing her unperky chesticles at guys for attention and a particulaly devious best friend (actually it seemed that she had only one friend). Other than that M tended to blend in the background, she never wore dresses or skirts, never wore make up and never said boo to a goose... or so I thought.

We used to live in a large house that was split up into six bedsits. Me and Mr Sheep lived on the first floor whilst M lived in the bedsit directly beneath ours which meant that we had to walk past her flat to get to ours. At the time I used to spend most of my day toiling/slacking at university, Mr Sheep worked for a car rental firm whilst M worked for a temping agency as a cleaner. Mr Sheep is a friendly fellow and like to help a person in need - but he is also a wind-up merchant and when in the company of his mates can be a bit of a handful. Him and his mates used to tease M rotten but he'd later try and make amends for the goofing off that he had done by helping her out with stuff. His mates were truely evil to M but those are stories for another time perhaps. It was probably during this teasing that M's thoughts went from "Mr Sheep could never be mine" to "I'm gonna marry that man and birth his babies"!

Mr Sheep is a creature of habit - He used to come home from work, put on some music and relax... I'm not sure when it started but M started playing loud music and leave her front door open just before Mr Sheep was due to come home. It was uncanny that M would only put her stereo on five minutes before he was due home, no earlier or later. On queue Mr Sheep would return home from work, go in to check on M, has some friendly banter with her before reporting back to me and laughing about M's cheesey taste in music among other things.

This happened for several months and we thought nothing of it. I had (and still have) no trust issues with Mr Sheep as he's a predictable fella whose eyes only start wandering when certain types of women are near by.

The summer holidays come and I have time off of university. Mr Sheep and I were also due to move into a new (and much bigger flat) near the end of the holidays and M knew it. At the beginning of the holidays we invited M to go out clubbing with us a couple of times - the first time she wore what seemed like a cardigan knitted by her grandmother. The second time M actually pulled a guy (I was shocked!) the same age as herself and I (about 22 at the time) but she fobbed him off by saying that she found him immature and prefered guys of the age of 29. Not 30, 30ish, 30-something or older guys. No, she said -29- the exact same age Mr Sheep was at the time. Mr Sheep was too blotto to realize what was being said and was still trying to fix her up with this poor young guy to actually put 2 and 2 together at this point.

After that night out I made the subtle suggestion of Mr Sheep fixing M up with one of his mates from work, a guy I shall name D who was in his thirties and hadn't been laid since his wife left him several years previously. Mr Sheep thought that would be a wonderful idea to bring two lonely kindred spirits together... ok he thought it would be hilarious. Surprisingly D and M start dating although D seemed very reluctant to be seen out in public with M as he tried to fend off her embraces in public which seemed to grow in frequency in Mr Sheep's presence.

One day during the holidays approximately half-an-hour before Mr Sheep was due back from work M asked if she could hang around our flat and play our SNES. M's best/only friend had been hanging around earlier that day but had disappeared - a girl several years younger than M or myself but unlike M her brain was running on all cylinders. I invited her in and chatted with her as she was playing the SNES, making sure that my Playstation and PC (they were my babies at the time) were out of her eyes' view. About 15 minutes before Mr Sheep was due back she said she had to go and have a shower so she disappeared off to her bedsit. She returned 10 minutes all "glammed" up wearing a new dress and heavy make-up... on the outside I pretended to not notice but on the inside I was dying from laughter. Whomever gave M her coaching on "How to steal someone's boyfriend" never thought to tell her her grandmother's floral dress coupled together with 1970's ABBAesque-style makeup was unlikely to work (She could have tried hiking the dress up past her ankles but I doubt even that would have registered on Mr Sheep's Schwing-O-Meter) and sure enough Mr Sheep wanders in from work completely oblivious to M's blatent image change or her attempts to flutter her eyelashes at him. At that point I should have warned Mr Sheep to avoid M but I thought that M would have given up after that. No - she didn't.

A couple of days later Mr Sheep scurries up the stairs seemingly worried about the conversation he had with M - actually it had him reaching for the mind bleach. She told him in great detail her nights of mad passion with Mr Sheep's mate D, that she took it in the wrong 'un and she has slept with 23 other blokes in the past (As a joke I later asked M if that was true and were any of these men sober... she said no). Rather than entice Mr Sheep into her clutches with tales of her wild exploits she managed to revolt him. This was not helped by D who later joked about it by saying that he did it so he did not have to look at M's face.

It was during one of Mr Sheep's friendly visits to M's flat that he had a run in with M's devious/only friend (it was the second time he had met her - the first was two weeks previously) who I believe to have been behind the plot simply because I feel that M wasn't capable of hatching any scheme of her own. M's friend suddenly declared that she was pregnant and it was Mr Sheep's baby. To cut this part of the story short Mr Sheep fled, vowing never to go near either of these women again without someone else escorting him. And me? I was amused by the incident because at the dates suggested for the so-called "conception" me and Mr Sheep were never out of each other's sight... because he had been sneaking me around in the rental cars he was driving behind his bosses' backs - most of the staff were doing that at the firm. I can vaguely remember them both watching me after the event to see my reaction - I guess that I disappointed them by acting as if nothing had happened. We never heard from M's friend or about her mysterious "pregnancy" again.

When Mr Sheep and I moved home I then told him of my suspicions of M's dubious intentions and he said that he did not notice and at that point even I was questioning whether or not I was right in my assumption (he was more freaked out about her friend). But to my horror (and his too) he said that he told M our new address so she could forward our post. Sure enough every saturday for the next twelve weeks or so M mysteriously appeared at our doorstep having walked halfway across the city "just to see us" as she proudly declared... without our post. And sure enough Mr Sheep had to drive to her place to collect our mail although we made sure that I always accompanied him in the car although I would wait in the car and he made sure that he did not enter the building - he refused to be left alone with M or M's friend just incase.

She would always recount to Mr Sheep her tales of sordid naughtiness with the bus drivers who worked for her temping agency, how they were cheating on their girlfriends/wives just to be with her. Tales of her being wronged by nasty men who take her money and spend it on drugs whilst she had to pawn everything to pay her bills. The nice girl in me feels sorry for M but my inner bitch screams at me that these were ploys to "seduce" Mr Sheep and "lure" him in as he likes to be a knight in shining armor and help people. In the end we would make sure that we went out every saturday or pretended we were not at home. M's visit grew infrequent and finally gave up after 6 months.

Mr Sheep and I moved house again a couple of years later - right by M's job as a temp cleaner at a local hospital. We lied and said we were visiting a friend and we lived in another town now. I did meet her last year again, it was the longest 5 minutes of my life.

All the time M lived in that bedsit and she did not notice that she had her own little stalker, one of the other residents of the building who was the appointed "caretaker" who was old enough to be her father. M would always leave her knickers/grundies to dry on the radiator in the hallway outside of her room... as Mr Sheep would -have- to pass them. Mr Sheep never noticed them until he was chatting with the "caretaker" who picked a pair of M's knickers and gave them a sniff before putting them back on the radiator - apparently he had been "sniff testing" M's grundies for some time. Mr Sheep has never recovered from this.

I haven't got time to apologize about the length - I'm too busy looking for more mind bleach!
[Edited - Ok, I'm sorry for the length but it's technique that really counts]
(Sat 2nd Feb 2008, 18:43, More)

» Best Graffiti Ever

I have three examples...
Cricklade College, Andover:
Many moons ago there was a tour of the college set up for the local secondary school children. Among the many exhibits put out on display in the biology department was a dissected rabbit stored in a tank of formaldehyde, its innards all neatly spread out and labeled. Placed with equal neatness and precision upon the tank was a small notice left by one of the college students. It read: "Bugs Bunny".

Southampton University:
Again many moons ago whilst I was wandering the darker, lower recesses of the student union building I happened to venture on a plaque marking one of the debating chambers... someone amended it to "Maths Debating Chamber".

The last one was in a hospital waiting room. Among the reading material present was a girly-type annual circa 1972 (it was probably a cheap knock off of Bunty) – inside the annual was a photo story. In one picture was a (suspiciously) cheery male lift attendant stood in a lift with a young girl. The original text read "Going down?" to which somebody added a cute little speech bubble from the girl saying "Yes please!" For some strange reason this has mentally scarred me and I still cannot go into any lift without quoting this.
(Fri 4th May 2007, 18:38, More)

» Too much information

Mr Sheep... The truth!
Thank you for repeating what I already wrote… silly boy! I did try to keep you anonymous. Here is a list of Mr Sheep’s misdemeanours in the TMI department:

He engages in deep and meaningful conversations about his stools and farts with me… every day!

He also enjoys telling me in exquisite detail the contents of our sons’ nappies every time they go for a poo – I cannot eat curries without being reminded of dirty nappies (Mr Sheep, just because one of our son’s as a baby farted as you were changing his nappy, sending a fine mist of poo in your face doesn’t mean to say that you had to tell me what it tasted like – I really didn’t want to know.)

He loves explaining to me in great detail every time he farts and follow through, especially the time when he was on the lash dressed up as a German Paratrooper (it was some WW2 re-enactment event) complete with itchy woollen trousers and lack of any decent toilet facilities in the immediate area or the time he was cycling to work. I nearly forgot about the time he told me he farted and followed through in the local cinema, ran to the toilet and found no toilet paper in any of the cubicles so proceeded to use his own underpants instead to wipe his bum, stuff them down the toilet and block the drains up.

He also enjoyed telling me that he "secretly" wiped his penis on his sister-in-law’s (Bucket o' Giblets) favourite lipstick after she annoyed him and was gullible enough to allow him to use her bathroom facilities without removing *every* item from her bathroom. I nearly died when she and her hubby showed us pictures of her kids playing dress up, wearing mummy’s lipstick.

It was most definitely TMI when he told me that the reason one of his friends (now ex friend) travelled miles to visit us every week only did so to cruise around the city’s red light district afterwards to pick up skanky hookers before he went home to his wife and kids.

I really, really, *really* did not need to know that his eldest brother is “hung like a horse” and that his older sister had to go to hospital for “taking one up the poopster” many years ago (although he says it was TMI when she told him about it in the first place – talk about sharing the love!). I also did not really want to know that the only woman that his eldest brother got close to sleeping with was one that fancied Mr Sheep instead but he managed to bribe into “sorting out” his bro. Mr Sheep also had to add the fact that his brother prematurely ejaculated thus blowing all chances of any action with this woman and this is permanently etched into my mind (What information Mr Sheep and his siblings shares with each other really scares me!).

Oh yes… What Mr Sheep did with a certain kitchen implement and his ex-girlfriend really should have stayed between him and his ex – not relayed to me! He let his own brother use that kitchen implement afterwards… eww!

There is more but I think for decencies’ sake I should quit now. Thank you, Mr Sheep. Here’s to ten more years… if my sanity can take it.
(Mon 10th Sep 2007, 1:40, More)

» Too much information

Pity me!
My boyfriend's Mother... as my boyfriend reads b3ta so to respect his anonymity I shall refer the old hag as S.O.W. – Senile Old Woman. Oh where do I begin?

1 – When my boyfriend first introduced me to S.O.W. he told her how we met in a local nightclub. She then proceeds to tell us in great detail how she had a night out in the same nightclub, had pulled some bloke (a truck driver) although she didn't remember his name, took him back to her place and gave him a blow job. She then rubs salt into my boyfriend's wounds by also informing him that this truck driver was several years younger then him. Thankfully that poor truck driver had the sense to sober up and run away.

2 – S.O.W. proudly broadcasts to me and my boyfriend how his youngest sister had "really big tits" because she was pregnant. This left my boyfriend traumatized for several months afterwards. My skin is crawling as I am 38 ½ weeks pregnant – I really do not want to know what S.O.W. has been saying behind my back.

3 – S.O.W. was out shopping with her eldest son who is 40+ and single. She then proceeds to ask random members of public where the nearest porn shop is so that her darling son could add to his growing porn collection. Nice one S.O.W.!

4 – S.O.W. likes to inform the family (those who are still on speaking terms with her) when her pet rat-like Yorkshire terrier is on heat.

5 – S.O.W. likes to give in depth lectures about her ailments and bodily functions. As she is a hypochondriac these discussions are quite longwinded and growing ever more inventive (I’m still puzzled how a woman can have troubles with her prostate gland although the amount of steroid injections this woman has claimed to have had might be the answer).

6 – S.O.W.’s tales of her childhood woes are enough to make me reach for a bucked to puke in. The story of “the day daddy killed my pet rabbit, cooked it and fed it to the family” is such an endearing one – one that I have had to listen to for too many times. There are other stories much worse than this one… but that would be too much information (excuse the apparent pun, it wasn’t intended).

S.O.W.’s legacy lives on through her deranged children. My boyfriend and his brothers have lengthy telephone conversations with each other about their stools. Bliss!

Despite his coyness around members of the general public, my boyfriend’s eldest brother brags to his other brothers about what is in his porn collection and how much he spends on it. He has even let me on his dirty little secret that 90% of the “regular” DVDs that he buys are solely bought because one or more of the female stars are either naked or in some sort of lesbian clinch. Thank you!

My boyfriend was kindly informed by his other brother that his wife’s mimsy is like a bucket of giblets. Such information was deemed important enough to pass on to me, like his hemorrhoids, details of his anal probing with an endoscope (I feel sorry for his doctor) and even his pet name for his wife - “My Little Suction Pump”.

And now for my own family...

My cousin “L” text me whilst she was having sex in the back of her boyfriend’s (now ex’s) van just to tell me she was getting laid which was not only TMI but also very sad for someone who was 20+ at the time.

My own mother ratted out my cousin “K” for buying a Rampant Rabbit whilst they were on a family shopping trip with my aunt… although my mother (prim, proper and pure) did not venture into the shop… she claims. “K” was actually quite cool about such relevations about her sex life, much to the disappointment of my mother.

My mother (yet again) ratted out my cousin “M” was not sure who the father of her child was – it could have been some van driver or a milkman (I kid you not!). It seems that my cousin has hedged her bets with the milkman.

Being told by my mother that my little brother has been spending a suspiciously long time in the toilet, groaning and mumbling some crazy weird stuff has completely warped my fragile little mind. She did not have to say it for it to be too much information and I’m still sure that she is either naïve or in denial… that’s my little brother! Eww!

EDIT: One last thing to share with you all... Sometimes words are not needed to convey TMI. I heard every grunt and groan of my mother and step-father through my bedroom wall as they were working on conceiving my little brother. I was only 15 at the time and the pillow over my head could not drown out the sounds.
(Sun 9th Sep 2007, 21:05, More)

» Best Graffiti Ever

Shock! Horror!
I almost forgot about this one. A very naughty person has added a pair of perky nipples to an uneven road surface sign out in the New Forest, I think it is on the road between Totton and Lyndhurst. How disgraceful!

(I didn't do it but I wish that I had...)
(Fri 4th May 2007, 18:59, More)