» That's me on TV!

Hands up who remembers Disney Adventures.
For everyone else who was too old or too young in the early nineties to be getting up at six every Saturday morning to watch cartoons, Disney Adventures was one of those kiddies shows with a live presenter in between cartoons. Every week, it was broadcast from a different place, as suggested by members of the audience.

My dad, being the Big Hairy Biker that he is, wrote in on behalf of me and suggested that they go to Santa Pod Raceway in Northamptonshire and broadcast from there. And they did and acknowledged us for suggesting it.

As the presenter said thanks to [Applebite] and her Dad for suggesting the raceway, she also showed a rather attractive picture of me (aged 3 and 1/2) that my dad had sent in with the letter, looking very pleased with myself and clutching a half melted Magnum ice cream in one hand with the rest of it smeared all over my face. On national television. Thanks Dad.

Click 'I like this' if you want me to find the picture and post it.
(Thu 11th Jun 2009, 17:32, More)

» Lies that got out of control

SmashMonkey just reminded me...I am a terrible person.
A boy I had a fling with last summer told a similar lie. I was suspicious, me being a rather worldy, experienced girl (read: slag) and him being a nice, rather shy catholic boy. So I casually eased it into conversation. He assured me that he was most definitely not a virgin, and when the time came, he would happily take me in a manly fashion, no problem.

Erm, yeah. I was staying over at his one night and things began to get rather steamy. Thinking he had it covered, I let him go for it. It quickly became apparent that he didn't have a bloody clue what he was doing (later confirmed by his previous ex, a friend of mine). I did my best, but as one of my sexual partners has (accurately) described, I'm like a labyrinth down there, so despite firm guiding and planting on my part, the poor lad failed over and over again, and eventually failed himself as well.

Now, I already have a terrible habit of saying or doing the most inappropriate things during sex. I once yelled "VICTORY!" at the point of orgasm, and am a big fan of the post-coital hi-five. His inexperience wasn't helping my impulsiveness. I was riled up and getting nothing, it was getting to the point where I was going to either laugh or cry in desperation. If only he'd told me the truth from the beginning, I would have been much more patient and understanding and the subsequent crushing of his ego would probably never have happened.

I'm not proud of this, but hysertia took over, and I laughed. I laughed so hard, I couldn't breathe. I laughed so hard I fell off the bed, and continued to laugh as I was tangled in a naked sweaty heap on his bedroom floor.

We both apologised profusely in the morning and kissed as my bus pulled up... but I never heard from him again. I can't blame him really, I probably humiliated him to the point of never being able to speak to a girl again. All because of a seemingly harmless little white lie. So, yeah. Don't lie kids. It's not good for your pride, or your cock.
(Thu 12th Aug 2010, 21:51, More)

» The Soundtrack of your Life

Hysterical
One of the happiest, most amazing moments of my life occurred at Leeds Festival last year. The sun was out, it had stopped raining and I was stood watching the Yeah yeah yeahs and Karen O go a bit mental on the main stage. I was stood with my head leaning on the shoulder of a good friend of mine. Things had taken an interesting turn at the festival and weeks of joke-flirting had turned into the realisation that we both actually really liked each other. As we stood in the crowd, arms wrapped around each other, both of us absolutely filthy and probably starting to smell a bit, he gently kissed the top of my head. I looked up into his face and realised that for once in my life my terrible, terrible fear of commitment and reliance on someone else had completely disappeared, and for the first time I actually wanted to get into a relationship with someone. Just as Karen O launched into the chorus of ‘Hysteric’:

“Flow sweetly, hang heavy. You suddenly complete me, you suddenly complete me”

I later fell in love with him, but sadly things didn’t work out as hoped due to poor timing and circumstances beyond our control (me going off to uni and him having to work full time to fund his gap year travels). And although us calling it a day was a mutual decision, and the fact that we’re still just as close now as we were before Leeds, that song still makes me tear up every time I hear it, because I would do anything to be back in that field, ankle deep in that mud and thinking that this could be the beginning of something pretty fucking awesome. In fact, the screen is pretty blurry right now.

He gets back from his five month trip to New Zealand in May. And I have no idea if I should let this one go or tell him I still feel the same way about him when he does.

Apologies for emo soppiness and lack of funny etc.
(Thu 28th Jan 2010, 15:19, More)

» School Days

Lemsip max - works every time.
There was a boy in most of my GCSE classes at high school, who safe to say, was a complete moron. He dicked about endlessly in lessons, and was always coming up with new ways tricks to royally piss off every teacher we had.

I have plenty of stories about him, but this is probably the one that sticks out most for me.

Anyway, we had a substitute one geography lesson, so of course, no one did anything. This boy had a cold at the time, so had brought in a couple of sachets of Lemsip max or soemthing to put in a drink for some relief. During the subbed lesson, he got bored, and so naturally decided that the best way to relieve this was to snort the lemsip.

He sprinkled the powder on to the table, arranged it into a neat line with his bus pass and used a rolled up piece of scrap paper to snort the lot.

The effect was immediate, and for everyone else, hilarious.

He leaped backwards out of his chair, ending up on the floor, yelling in pain, the left side of his face bright red, and his left eye and nostril streaming.

Once he had recovered enough to sit back down, he discovered that it had actually worked quite well, and the left sinuses were now clear. Only the right side was still blocked.



So he went and snorted the other sachet too.
(Wed 4th Feb 2009, 20:02, More)

» Will you go out with me?

All thanks to copious amounts of vodka and quantro and a tricky lock
We first hooked up at one of his parties. My friend got wasted, locked herself in the bathroom and couldn't get out again. After about half an hour of this on either side of the door:

Me: Unlock the door.
Her:I want to come out, let me out!
Me: You have to unlock the door first. No, let go of the handle.
Her: I don't like it, Apple, let me ouuuuuut.
Me: Listen to me, unlock the door and you can come out. No, turn off the shower!

She stopped answering, everyone was dying for a piss, so the lock had to be broken off.

Five minutes later, I'm sat on the kitchen floor, upset that I let my mate lock herself in the bathroom as I'd been looking after her, and he comes and sits by me, angry at the fate of his bathroom door.

One thing lead to another, and about an hour later I woke up on the kitchen floor as after our intensive make-out session, we'd both fallen asleep (well it was four in the morning)and wandered off to find a bed that was more forgiving on my spine. The next morning, he avoided the issue, and though we kept meeting up for more make out sessions, it was about three weeks before the actual asking occurred.

I was at his one night, and someone rang him up. He put the phone down pretty quickly. "Who was that?" I asked.
"Oh just some girl. She wants me" He joked.
"O Rly? Well she can't have you." I joked back
"Am I yours then?"
"Yep"
"Does that mean your interested in a serious relationship now?" Suddenly all serious. I looked at him, unsure. "Yeah, that was my super-cool way of asking you out."

Much making out ensued.

Length? About four months, which is an immense achievement for me.
(Thu 28th Aug 2008, 21:03, More)