b3ta.com user Demonic Omelette
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Profile for Demonic Omelette:
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Hey hey.
I'm Canadian.
I live in England.
Please save me.
You can e-mail me at eli_jacks@DONTSPAMME!hotmail.com
My Birthday Pics, made by B3TA Boarders. Rockin!

That's me.

You can find some of my pics, as well as the stuff about ME GETTING SHOT IN THE ASS at www.demonicomelette.com. Check it. Boyyyyyyyyy....

Recent front page messages:

Try this at home, you fucking Circus freaks! (pt.2)

CLICK for Circus Kitten
(FP! Thanks!)
(Tue 8th Jul 2003, 0:50, More)

You know Kermit,

It's not that easy being Blue, either..
(edit: FP! Thanks folks!)
(Tue 1st Jul 2003, 1:03, More)

The people of Pisa came up with a rather creative solution..

Woop! FP! This is the happiest day of my life! (apart from last fp, a long, long time ago..)
(Sun 22nd Jun 2003, 23:37, More)

Tired of being a prophet...
Jesus returned to his old job.

(Thu 14th Nov 2002, 4:03, More)

Best answers to questions:

» School fights

Been in exactly one fight...
First off, I've never, ever hit anyone in my entire life. These fists have never been used outside the bedroom.

So I was in The Firestation (Student bar here in Bournemouth), minding my own buisness, getting rat-arsed.

Standing at the bar, beside a rather attractive young first-year. Guy standing other side of her giving her grief, pawing at her, trying to kiss her. She's obviously very pissed off with him. I decide to be a hero, and tell him to piss off. He takes offence to this, and takes a swing at me, which brushes my jaw, failing to properly connect.

Without thinking, I swing a mighty left, and knock out the girl.


And then I ran away.

(Sun 12th Mar 2006, 12:49, More)

» Teenage Parties

French Student...
I was born and raised in Winnipeg, Canada, and went to a French Immersion school.

So in grade 11 (about 16 years old...) we got this new kid in our class, who's parents just moved from Quebec. The second weekend of term, his parents were out of town on buisness. We managed to convince him he should have a house-party, as it would be really good for him, and make him loads of new mates. Finally he agreed, as long as we kept it small...

So we put posters up all over the high-school, advertising a massive rave, with free booze and women. We told our mates at other schools to do the same.

Eight o'clock comes on the fateful evening, and already his house has about 200 people in it.

Eight-thirty, and there's about 600.

Nine o'clock and the television has been thrown out the bathroom window.

Nine-fifteen, and his dining-room table has been stuck, feet first, through his mother's bedroom wall.

Nine-thirty and most of the wallpaper in the lounge has been pulled down, and shoved down the toilet. Then the toilet has been pulled off the wall.

Various silverware has been put in the toaster, which has then been put in the microwave which has been turned on.

The CD collection vanished, although some of his parents CD's were thrown on the George Foreman grill.

Finally, the garage was lit on fire, someone took a rather unpleasant shit in the ceiling of the lounge, and a car was driven through the front door.

It was at this point, just as the police/fire/ambulance were showing up, that I thanked him for a lovely evening, nicked a bottle of scotch, and pissed off.

He never came back to that school. His parents took him back to Quebec, and the house was demolished and rebuilt.

Fucking awsome party.
(Fri 14th Apr 2006, 11:49, More)

» Sacked

15 times in 10 days...
My friend and I got sacked a total of 15 times in 10 days.

Daz and I needed to escape London due to the realisation that our party lifestyle was having a detrimental effect on our health and the fact that we owed about a thousand pounds to an ex-SAS amphetamine dealer (Mistake #1).

We found an ad in Southern Cross Magazine (an antipodean magazine advertising shit jobs and shitter flats to backpackers). This ad said we could travel up to Norfolk (Mistake #2) and work in the agricultural sector and get free accomodation and food. Sounded great.

So we wind up living in this run-down hostel with a bunch of illegal South-Africans (aren't they all?), working in carrot factories, cat-food canneries, and premade-sandwich packers. Luckily we had brought with us quite a little pharmacy, and were able to self-medicate the boredom out of the jobs.

Unfortunatly, when one takes certain drugs, one becomes quite silly, and the jobworths supervising us didn't take too kindly to the fact that we were throwing catfood, buggering old ladies with carrots (Mistake #3), and other such agriculture-related shennanigans. So they sacked us.

And then found new places for us to work.

And then sacked us again.

Ad nauseum.

So the last place they sent us to work, thinking in their small, Norfolk minds that we'd calm down and take our jobs seriously, was the warehouse of Hamelys, the largest toy store in Britain. Silly fuckers.

I got sacked for shooting the boss in the face with a doll launched from a catapult.

Daz got sacked for performing felatio on a cardboard cut-out of Princess Leah.

Yeah, so we left Norfolk, returned to London, and got back on the bandwagon that is Brixton on a Saturday Night.

Lovely stuff.
(Fri 24th Feb 2006, 13:49, More)

» Messing with the Dark Side

Ruining Christmas...
Not really on topic, but there ya go...

A few years back, I had some very twisted friends in Vancouver.

So one christmas a few years back, they kidnap the baby Jesus from the nativity scene outside the local church. Nicking some fence posts, they crucify the doll on the front lawn of the church. On the way home, they get hungry, and get a bucket of chickenwings. Someone has the inspired idea to make a wreath out of the bones, which they hung on the door of the church. Not content with that, they proceed to spraypaint across the front of the church:


in letter three feet tall.

All this was done, by the way, early in the morning on christmas day.

I've seen the photographic proof, and I'm so, so sorry I missed it.

(Thu 20th Apr 2006, 19:21, More)

» Heckles

Fucking Student Bands
So here I am, managing this student bar. We have a couple god-awful student bands play on a thursday night. At the end of the "gig", I go up to the headliner with their cash (30 quid, well wasted). They ask me what I thought, and I said that they were really good, much better than the really shit band that played first. To which the lead singer turns around and tells me they WERE the first band. To which I tell them I was only assuming they were shit, as I generally lock myself in the office whenever we have crap student bands playing.

Oh, I've also kicked Hugh Grant out of a bar I worked in, and called Craig Charles a wanker. But that's another QOTW.

Appologies for length, girth, and smelliness.
(Sun 9th Apr 2006, 11:46, More)
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