Profile for wasted industry:
http://www.darkmogwai.34sp.com
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Not much else in here as yet... After over two years.... Hey ho, I'll get there at some point :)
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http://www.darkmogwai.34sp.com
http://www.livejournal.com/users/wasted_industry
Not much else in here as yet... After over two years.... Hey ho, I'll get there at some point :)
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Irrational Fears
Hmm.
Just recently got diagnosed with severe emetophobia (fear of vomiting)... one night when I was visiting my girlfriend we were lying in bed and her townie arsehole flatmate came home, slumped into his room, and spent the next SIX HOURS throwing up into the toilet, which happened to be on the other side of a paper-thin wall. I was physically shaking within 10 minutes, with my girlfriend trying to calm me down, after 30 minutes I was crying, and after an hour I had to go outside and walk the streets for a full hour. Of course when I got back I flipped out again because it was still going on. So I went out again. 20 Marlboros later I get back at 6 in the morning, kick his door in, and kick him repeatedly shouting "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!". He hasn't got drunk since, but I apparently now need counselling. Joy.
Edit: Forgot, this stems from having an alcoholic girlfriend in the past. I also as a result have a phobia of drunkenness, either in myself or others. Interestingly though when my close friends get drunk it's not a problem, until they start chucking up - then I run away.
(Tue 27th Jan 2004, 16:22, More)
Hmm.
Just recently got diagnosed with severe emetophobia (fear of vomiting)... one night when I was visiting my girlfriend we were lying in bed and her townie arsehole flatmate came home, slumped into his room, and spent the next SIX HOURS throwing up into the toilet, which happened to be on the other side of a paper-thin wall. I was physically shaking within 10 minutes, with my girlfriend trying to calm me down, after 30 minutes I was crying, and after an hour I had to go outside and walk the streets for a full hour. Of course when I got back I flipped out again because it was still going on. So I went out again. 20 Marlboros later I get back at 6 in the morning, kick his door in, and kick him repeatedly shouting "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!". He hasn't got drunk since, but I apparently now need counselling. Joy.
Edit: Forgot, this stems from having an alcoholic girlfriend in the past. I also as a result have a phobia of drunkenness, either in myself or others. Interestingly though when my close friends get drunk it's not a problem, until they start chucking up - then I run away.
(Tue 27th Jan 2004, 16:22, More)
» Clients Are Stupid
Scary old ladies
Old ladies have to be the scariest beings on earth.
I used to work in Victoria Wine in Bristol (fun fun fun, but that's not the point of this post). We had a regular customer who was called the "scary old lady with something wrong with her". I'm not being nasty here - she actually didn't have anything wrong with her, but average conversations with her went along the lines of:
Scary Old Lady (SOL): Can you tell me the prices of the brandy?
Me: Certainly, they're on the shelf over here. The prices are just below the bottles.
SOL (from three feet away): Can you read the prices to me? I've got something wrong with my eyes
Her list of ailments varied - in an average week she would have "something wrong with her legs" so we'd have to lift her over the (4-inch high) step into the shop, "something wrong with her fingers" so we'd have to count her money out (which was always, always in 5p pieces, even when paying for a 10-pound bottle of brandy), and "something wrong with her brain" (yes, that one is true).
In addition to all this, the majority of the time she'd wander all over the shop, asking for prices of everything known to man, and then ask for 20 marlboro lights. And then she'd demand two packs of ten, because "the packs of twenty go stale". Then she'd pay for the fags in 5p pieces. Then she'd demand a receipt - and one time she brought one of the ten packs back, saying that the "other pack was stale" and demanding her money back for both packs, brandishing a receipt. She was loony.
(Fri 2nd Jan 2004, 11:29, More)
Scary old ladies
Old ladies have to be the scariest beings on earth.
I used to work in Victoria Wine in Bristol (fun fun fun, but that's not the point of this post). We had a regular customer who was called the "scary old lady with something wrong with her". I'm not being nasty here - she actually didn't have anything wrong with her, but average conversations with her went along the lines of:
Scary Old Lady (SOL): Can you tell me the prices of the brandy?
Me: Certainly, they're on the shelf over here. The prices are just below the bottles.
SOL (from three feet away): Can you read the prices to me? I've got something wrong with my eyes
Her list of ailments varied - in an average week she would have "something wrong with her legs" so we'd have to lift her over the (4-inch high) step into the shop, "something wrong with her fingers" so we'd have to count her money out (which was always, always in 5p pieces, even when paying for a 10-pound bottle of brandy), and "something wrong with her brain" (yes, that one is true).
In addition to all this, the majority of the time she'd wander all over the shop, asking for prices of everything known to man, and then ask for 20 marlboro lights. And then she'd demand two packs of ten, because "the packs of twenty go stale". Then she'd pay for the fags in 5p pieces. Then she'd demand a receipt - and one time she brought one of the ten packs back, saying that the "other pack was stale" and demanding her money back for both packs, brandishing a receipt. She was loony.
(Fri 2nd Jan 2004, 11:29, More)