» Best Graffiti Ever

MC Hammer, I blame you.
I've seen this around in a few places, yet it still makes me giggle like a schoolgirl on crack.


(Fri 4th May 2007, 6:14, More)

» Why I was late

Oops I did it again.
Back when I was a little is0lati0n, sitting quietly in a classroom filled with other 6 year old monsters, the door opened.
Standing timidly in the doorway was a classmate, late and obviously scared of incurring the wrath of our (alcoholic, as it turned out) teacher.

He wandered quietly to his chair and sat down, when Mr Teacher Sir yelled at the kid as to why he was late.
In tears, he cried back that he had diarrhoea.

...And then there was complete silence as the boy let out a particularly wet fart.
Wet enough that he drenched his pants, chair and the floor.

At least the teacher had proof that it was a genuine excuse. Pity he scared the poor kid into shitting himself.
(Thu 28th Jun 2007, 17:08, More)

» We have to talk

My top 3.
I've got a few of these, now that I think about it.

WNTT (We Need To Talk) #1.
My grandmother's a lovely old thing, nuttier than squirrel shit, but nice. So during my visit to see her, this conversation ensued with her delightfully fractured English.
Gran: I you, talk now, yes?
Me: Sure gran, what do you want to talk about?
Gran: *holding my hands firmly and a serious look on her face* My birthday, you give me great-grand children, yes?

Somehow I managed not to laugh in her face.


WNTT #2
My mother (daughter of the aforementioned grandmother) has always been the shy type, especially on subjects relating to how the uh... finer points of the female body work once puberty hits.
Mum: is0lati0n, could we have a few words? Do you know what this is? *brandishing a (clean - why did I feel the need to point that out? Because you're filthy bastards) tampon as if it was a dead mouse*
Me: Mum, I'm 20. I've had my period for years.
Mum: Oh.

Thanks mum! Better late then never, right? Oh, I guess not.


WNTT #3
Ahh, finally one about an ex. It should be noted that this event was what started him stalking me. Let's call him Twat, since that's what he acts like.
Twat: Look, we need to talk.
Me: Fine, talk.
Twat: *insert some rant about how I'm so awful, blah blah blah, I've probably cheated on him... hang on, is that a scarf around his neck? In summer?*
Me: Sorry to interrupt, Twat, but well... *pulls off his scarf to reveal some rather nasty looking hickeys that I had nothing to do with* We need to talk.
Twat: Hold on, that has NOTHING to do wi...
Me: I'll see you later then? *goes home*

On second thought, perhaps saying I'd see him later really wasn't a good idea.



Length? Call me Vlad the Impaler.
(Sat 21st Apr 2007, 0:57, More)

» Best Graffiti Ever

Amazing
You can hardly tell the words were altered...

(Wed 9th May 2007, 4:55, More)

» Family Holidays

Of Canberra, mushrooms, spiders and completely nutty aunts.
At the tender age of 11, it was announced that my aunt decided to offer my sisters (aged 13 and 9 at the time) and I a holiday, a week with her at her house in Canberra.
Before I go on, I must say this: Canberra may be the capitol of Australia, but it's also the arse-end of the country. Sure, you can buy fireworks and find an adult store on every block, but these features are overshadowed by the abundance of round-abouts, the fact that everything seemed to close at 5pm, the lack of ANY children... Oh, and a hoarde of politicians.
Anyway, my sisters and I endured a 8 hour coach-trip with no airconditioning to be greeted by the aunt, who happened to come bearing gifts of cold drinks and little presents.
"Cool!", we thought. Oh how wrong we were.
My aunt, although having had two children, has never looked after kids in her life. We were in for a good one, weren't we?
The most memorable part of the holiday was when my aunt decided to take us mushroom picking (the suggestion crowded with comments like "I used to do this when I was your age, in Poland!" and "I'd be so happy if I could share this with you").
Off we went.

For the record, it was after she suggested it that I mentioned I hate mushrooms. Hatehatehatehate them. She said it was fine, I could still have the experience. Keep this in mind.

We drove out to some picturesque forest to begin gathering the little lumps of fungus which I despise so much. All was going well until I walked into a huge spider web.

I hate spiders. Almost as much as I hate mushrooms. Being 11, I screamed like a little girl (what a surprise) and told my aunt I wasn't going to pick any because I was scared. After being told off for this, I was allowed to wait in the car.
I can handle that.

We got back to my aunt's house where she began to cook aforementioned mushrooms. Frying them in butter, in fact. The smell makes me gag at the best of times, and when my aunt heard this, I was told off for being rude. Not too bad.
Then she dished up ALL the mushrooms onto one plate and told me to eat them all, because I'd been rude.
"I don't like mushrooms!" I wailed.
"I don't care!", she replied.
Mushrooms were shovelled down my throat, and I was then sent to bed for being naughty.
I started feeling nauseous while in bed and clutched my stomach, looking up to the ceiling. Hm, how interesting. Neon coloured spiders were dancing across the walls and ceiling. I wasn't sure whether to be amused or scared, but I really didn't have time to think.

Why?
I was then violently ill.

Yes, folks. My aunt had force-fed me poisonous and hallucinagenic mushrooms. It gets better though. The mushrooms had recently been sprayed with various poisons to get rid of them.
Gives you an idea of just how violently ill I was.
But to top it all off, I was then told off for being so rude as to be ill on my aunt's nice clean floor.

The bitch.


Length? Projectile!
(Fri 3rd Aug 2007, 4:42, More)