b3ta.com user lonelybadger
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Profile for lonelybadger:
Profile Info:


Recent front page messages:


Best answers to questions:

» Lies that went on too long

I generally don't lie
... not because I am lovely, but because I am lazy. The upkeep of a lie requires more energy than I am prepared to spend.

Nonetheless, I couldn't face telling my ferocious German auntie, of whose judgement I live in constant fear for some reason, that I'd met my Canadian now-husband while playing World of Warcraft. It was all too much. First, I'd have to explain the internet to her. Then, I'd have to explain MMORPGs to her, and convince her that it wasn't a shameful waste of time, and that neither of us were total losers, that he was just a blue collar guy, and that I wasn't going to emigrate etc. etc. She'd absolutely have a meltdown about the whole thing. I resolved to tell a great honking fib to keep her sweet:
"I met Mr. Badger at a cocktail evening in Vancouver while visiting a high school friend who now teaches art at the university there".

She was not satisfied with this. Indeed, she was surprisingly pissy about it and harangued me with questions about the affair until well after we'd married and I had, in fact, emigrated. I had to come up with more and more elaborate biographical facts about the non-existent high school friend, my husband's provenance and occupation, and Vancouver itself (I have never left the airport there). She was very down on the whole thing and straight out told me that I was stupid and that this man was "a drifter" and not to be trusted. The waves of emanating scorn could be felt across the Pacific.

Eventually the festering guilt and inability to embroider further on my bullshit got to me, and I 'fessed up on a visit home. I met this man playing Warcraft. That's it and that's all.

She was thrilled. And relieved. And absolutely enchanted by the concept of online romance. "Ach- so it was meant to be, then". I could have wept. Or punched her. Or myself. I'm not sure which.
(Sat 10th Mar 2012, 2:10, More)

» DIY Surgery

Dad, His Eyeball, and The Amazing Outback Nurse
My dad emigrated to Australia from Germany in the 60s. Being largely unskilled, he was sent to work on the railroad in the outback.

They used kerosene lanterns for lighting. One night, such a thing blew up in close proximity to one of dad's eyeballs, which was sliced open by an errant shard of glass.

They were many, many miles from any hospital, and the only medical person available was the camp nurse. They got dad extremely drunk, for want of anaesthesia (he was good at that, so this was the easy bit).

There was a barbed wire fence nearby that horses would come and get bits of their tails caught in. The nurse retrieved one such tail hair, boiled it and sewed up dad's eyeball with it.

The eye was saved, though dad, forever after, looked like he had two pupils in the one eye as a result of this mishap and subsequent impromptu embroidery. I thought it was very cool.

Not my story, I guess, but I thought the nurse deserved a mensh for her DIY resourcefulness.
(Fri 21st Jan 2011, 10:11, More)

» Cringe!

This Will Win Me No Friends
It isn't even funny. But I do die, violently and bloodily inside, every time I think of it.

I had been helping my ex DJ at a party that consisted entirely of wankers (I do not exclude myself) many years ago. I was bored to death, very tired, wanted to leave, and was not nearly drunk enough to be cheerful, but just enough to be nasty.

The male half of a particularly tedious couple of my acquaintance approached me towards the end of the night. I didn't want to talk to anyone, let alone this person, mainly because I had nothing in common with him. He and his GF were obsessed with spawning, and were recently, joyfully and noisily pregnant, so all I could think of to ask about was the condition of his missus.

Keep in mind that I'm the sort of minging heartless witch who couldn't care less about children, and who has a hatred of weedy euphemism.

"Um... so how's Mrs. Thingy's pregnancy going?"

"Oh... she lost the baby".

"That was a bit clumsy of her. Leave it on a bus seat or something, did she?"

Even I was stunned. I wish I could plead temporary insanity, serious drunkenness, or demonic possession. The only real explanation is that I am a total cow.

It was so bad, in fact, that Mr. Thingy was sure he hadn't heard me properly, above the awful music. I covered myself, I think, but to this day the memory of this Tourette-esque outburst of glib evil has had me reaching for the Nembutal.
(Thu 4th Dec 2008, 11:40, More)

» Common

Maybe only other Aussies will understand this one (and we're all common to start with. But there are degrees).

Some people here either have no real concept of grammar, or do this to seem chummy, or larrikin-like... who knows, really. "You" [personal pronoun, plural] becomes "yous".

"When are yous open till?"

I reply as emphatically as possible:

"Wees are open until seven".

I love doing this. They know I'm taking the piss, but are unable to retaliate: if they insist upon addressing me with deliberately incorrect grammar, I've got every right have a go.

Also, people who put milk into their teacup first and then add the tea are pure scum.
(Fri 17th Oct 2008, 13:29, More)

» Irrational Hatred

People who eat noisy things at the movies
I still don't understand how the mindless eating of crap enhances the theatregoing experience. The stuff on sale is revolting, it costs 796% of the average retail price, and it's all either incredibly crunchy and noisy, or wrapped in something incredibly crunchy and noisy. I didn't pay the price of a ticket to listen to you perpetually grazing fucktards mumbling your way through a cellophane bag of shrapnel.

First to die in the righteous purge will be those who deliberately WAIT through the adverts and previews, and then giddily unwrap their choc-top or whatever just as the main feature begins. They've been teasing themselves, you see... teasing and torturing themselves, and now comes the reward for their infinite patience and abstemious longsuffering. You'll get to hear this particular type of quasi-bulimic twat consuming the cacophonous sweetmeat with excruciating, almost pornographic, slowness and care for a full half of your film.
(Sat 2nd Apr 2011, 9:12, More)
[read all their answers]