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» The thing I've been most ashamed of doing with a penis
A story passed on...
About one of those typical teenage type housepartys when your parents go away - full of booze, more booze and of course, sexy things.
Giving it a good few hours of drinking later, a couple had got a bit raunchy and decided to have a bit right there and then. And so they go, stumbling through this nice house and manage to actually find a living room vacant. The door shuts and off go the lights. Legs akimbo at this point, and maybe with a cheeky finger here and there.
Perhaps it was just dark, or perhaps it was the alcohol fuelled inhibitions, that made him do her up the bum.
Now he was probably going at it living this fantasy, while she was suddenly beginning to think, something isn't right... oh yes, she poos.
Right there on the sofa.
Now that's enough to end anything. And so they stop (or finish) and just when they do, someone is heard coming through the front door -
"What the hell is going on?!"
The parent!
Cue brushing yourself off, tidying the sofa and switching the lights on faster than you can say anal. The mother walks in to the living room and instantly spots the faeces on her beloved furniture.
Oh shit.
"Is that... oh ffs, the dog took a shit inside the house again?!"
She storms off, oblivious to their dirty deed. The pair breathe a long sigh of relief.
A couple of months later the penis involved returns to this house to visit his friend, back from university. Walking in, now sober, he sees the sofa as it was before, and reminisces to himself with an undeserving smirk upon his face.
But something's missing.
"Where's the dog to?" He asks his friend.
"He's gone." He replies.
"Mum had him put down because he couldn't stop shitting inside."
Cue guilt, shame and a one way ticket to hell.
So it's official: anal kills dogs.
(Sun 15th Mar 2009, 16:23, More)
A story passed on...
About one of those typical teenage type housepartys when your parents go away - full of booze, more booze and of course, sexy things.
Giving it a good few hours of drinking later, a couple had got a bit raunchy and decided to have a bit right there and then. And so they go, stumbling through this nice house and manage to actually find a living room vacant. The door shuts and off go the lights. Legs akimbo at this point, and maybe with a cheeky finger here and there.
Perhaps it was just dark, or perhaps it was the alcohol fuelled inhibitions, that made him do her up the bum.
Now he was probably going at it living this fantasy, while she was suddenly beginning to think, something isn't right... oh yes, she poos.
Right there on the sofa.
Now that's enough to end anything. And so they stop (or finish) and just when they do, someone is heard coming through the front door -
"What the hell is going on?!"
The parent!
Cue brushing yourself off, tidying the sofa and switching the lights on faster than you can say anal. The mother walks in to the living room and instantly spots the faeces on her beloved furniture.
Oh shit.
"Is that... oh ffs, the dog took a shit inside the house again?!"
She storms off, oblivious to their dirty deed. The pair breathe a long sigh of relief.
A couple of months later the penis involved returns to this house to visit his friend, back from university. Walking in, now sober, he sees the sofa as it was before, and reminisces to himself with an undeserving smirk upon his face.
But something's missing.
"Where's the dog to?" He asks his friend.
"He's gone." He replies.
"Mum had him put down because he couldn't stop shitting inside."
Cue guilt, shame and a one way ticket to hell.
So it's official: anal kills dogs.
(Sun 15th Mar 2009, 16:23, More)
» Complaining
When I'm a lot older...
...I'm going to be one of those old bitter ladies who complain about anything and everything, just because I can.
If I remember correctly, it all started when I was about 17, and came across a great book called 'The Time Waster Letters' by Robin Cooper. This paperback compilation of absolutely pointless and genuinely time wasting letters entertained me to no end. Maybe it was because I was young, or maybe because I had nothing better to do, that had led me to write that complaint letter to Nestle. A letter which I will tell my children about, and my children's children, to teach them to embrace the phrase "the customer is always right". A rule which probably shouldn't have been invented because of people like me.
Unfortunately, I'll have to hunt down the letter to be able to repeat it word to word, but it went something like this...
Dear Sir/Madam,
My name is The-Banana, and I am a frequent buyer of your delicious 'Nestle Honey Nut Cheerios'. Upon my last trip to the local supermarket, I had strolled down my favourite isle and located another box of your superb produce with ease. Admiring the box all the way home, I couldn't wait to tuck in to my dinner.
When I arrived home, I quickly opened the packaging by pushing my finger under the tab and sliding. However, it was only when I had finished my meal, when I was gravely distraught.
Looking around at the eye catching box, there are several pictures of 'O's, slogans for "those little 'O's", and also the name, Cheeri-'O's. However, this is clearly not the case.
Here are some examples I have found -
*Non-circular pieces of Cheerios cellataped here*
As you can see, this is a serious case of false advertising. Please correct this immediately or else I will be forced to contact The Office of Fair Trading.
Yours Sincerely,
The-Banana
I wish the response I got was worthy of a mention, but at least I got £6 in Nestle cereal vouchers.
I've gotten pretty good at complaining nowadays, last time was at o2. They won't be charging me a bill of £398.74 again any time soon.
Sorry about the length, and also please be kind =] I'm a sensitive soul.
(Sat 4th Sep 2010, 18:53, More)
When I'm a lot older...
...I'm going to be one of those old bitter ladies who complain about anything and everything, just because I can.
If I remember correctly, it all started when I was about 17, and came across a great book called 'The Time Waster Letters' by Robin Cooper. This paperback compilation of absolutely pointless and genuinely time wasting letters entertained me to no end. Maybe it was because I was young, or maybe because I had nothing better to do, that had led me to write that complaint letter to Nestle. A letter which I will tell my children about, and my children's children, to teach them to embrace the phrase "the customer is always right". A rule which probably shouldn't have been invented because of people like me.
Unfortunately, I'll have to hunt down the letter to be able to repeat it word to word, but it went something like this...
Dear Sir/Madam,
My name is The-Banana, and I am a frequent buyer of your delicious 'Nestle Honey Nut Cheerios'. Upon my last trip to the local supermarket, I had strolled down my favourite isle and located another box of your superb produce with ease. Admiring the box all the way home, I couldn't wait to tuck in to my dinner.
When I arrived home, I quickly opened the packaging by pushing my finger under the tab and sliding. However, it was only when I had finished my meal, when I was gravely distraught.
Looking around at the eye catching box, there are several pictures of 'O's, slogans for "those little 'O's", and also the name, Cheeri-'O's. However, this is clearly not the case.
Here are some examples I have found -
*Non-circular pieces of Cheerios cellataped here*
As you can see, this is a serious case of false advertising. Please correct this immediately or else I will be forced to contact The Office of Fair Trading.
Yours Sincerely,
The-Banana
I wish the response I got was worthy of a mention, but at least I got £6 in Nestle cereal vouchers.
I've gotten pretty good at complaining nowadays, last time was at o2. They won't be charging me a bill of £398.74 again any time soon.
Sorry about the length, and also please be kind =] I'm a sensitive soul.
(Sat 4th Sep 2010, 18:53, More)
» Prejudice
Pardon?
I've been living in the UK for the majority of my life, and everyone I properly meet and know assume I was born here - though I hold a Chinese passport.
However, mostly experienced from working in a Wetherspoon's pub here in Cardiff, it is shocking how many people have not only been genuinely surprised, but also feel compelled, to "compliment" me after I serve them a drink by saying, "oh, you speak good English".
I must've looked like a tourist stood behind that bar, or something.
(Wed 7th Apr 2010, 14:16, More)
Pardon?
I've been living in the UK for the majority of my life, and everyone I properly meet and know assume I was born here - though I hold a Chinese passport.
However, mostly experienced from working in a Wetherspoon's pub here in Cardiff, it is shocking how many people have not only been genuinely surprised, but also feel compelled, to "compliment" me after I serve them a drink by saying, "oh, you speak good English".
I must've looked like a tourist stood behind that bar, or something.
(Wed 7th Apr 2010, 14:16, More)