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» Letters they'll never read

Sorry in advance for the complete lack of humour and general pointless bitching
Dear Cancer,

You know, for something that starts out as a simple break in DNA affecting no more than 7 genes in a single cell, you really are a complete bastard.

Your Krukenberg buddy took away my Grandma last year and I watched her die slowly. The only thing that got her through it was her faith in God, which is not my way of thinking but hey, it helped her mentally beat you.

You took away my best friend's dad before he was 50, leaving my mate to deal with everything because his mum and sister couldn't cope with the loss: congrats. You've turned one of the nicest people ever into a borderline alcoholic with acute depression and insomnia.

You are slowly killing my friend and mother of four, and for this, I truly, truly hate you.

You have affected virtually everyone I know in one way or another and are a complete cunt for this.

I know that this letter is completely pointless and really doesn't change the fact that you are a petty, ugly disease. Bitching isn't going to change anything and there are thousands of people out there who are positivly kicking your metastasizing, uncontrollably proliferating arse every day.

One day, we will have your number and you will not be able to hurt people again.

Yours (defiant 'til then end)

(Sun 7th Mar 2010, 12:50, More)

» Letters they'll never read

Dear Messrs. SpankyHanky and Legless,
Yes, I appreciate that this is quite sycophantic and many b3tans will quite aptly rip the piss for this letter.

But I don't care.

Your posts genuinely brighten my day, and make me suppress my laughter in a very quiet lab on a frequent basis. So they may be overly elaborate: to be honest, who cares? They aren't hurting anyone (other than yourselves). They are epic stories and deserve the credit they get.

Please keep them coming.


PS. I don't want either of you to touch my eruption button if that is what you think after reading this.
PPS. To all the other b3tans out there - I like your stories too. You just know I'm right about this!
(Sun 7th Mar 2010, 13:02, More)

» Drunk Parents

The family BBQ
Every year in or around June, my dad's side of the family get together to celebrate my Grandfather's birthday. Even though both him and my Grandma have now sadly died, we still celebrate it as a chance to get the family together.

These days it's the usual assortment of chargrilled animals followed by a liberal supply of alcohol, endieng in me and my dad seeing who can provoke the most amount of disappointment from, in his case, my mother (who is teetotal - if you knew my mum's side of the family, you would understand why), and in my case my mother and mrs ssmtb (I invariably win). Anyway, back in the day, it used to be my dad and my uncle.

Wavy lines (I'm using an Estonia computer which doesn't seem to have the symbol)...

One year my dad, uncle and aunt tried to drink their own body weight in Southern Comfort (my dad still can't drink it to this day). None of them remember the night. I have heard it reported from my mum and my now late grandfather.

My mum found my aunt in the garden passed out in a deckchair still clutching a bottle of SoCo. She found my dad in the neighboring field. Apparently, he had gone for a walk and had become trapped between a barbed wire fence and an electric one, and in his drunken haze, decided that the best course of action after being shredded and shocked, was to cut his losses and sleep where he was.

My uncle's story was reported by my grandfather. He had got up in the night to pee, and when approaching the toilet, saw, and i quote, "The moonlight glinting off the very pale and naked behind of my eldest as he attempted to cover the shame of a night of excessive consumption". Turns out he was scooping puke from the sink into the toilet.

Oh, and did I mention my Grandfather was a priest? (the C. of E. kind, not the the dubious catholic kind).
(Sun 27th Feb 2011, 12:34, More)

» Mums

My mum is great!
With one exception:

That sex ed talk at age 14. You know the one - you're sat playing on your N64 and she siddles in and the tiny alarm bell goes off in your head but you think, "No, my mum is too laid back for this...". And it happens. The, "You have started bringing girls back now so I think we should have a chat..." chat.

Fuckity wanking hell this is awkward. And the truly low point of the conversation: my mum uttering this which will haunt me forever. "You know, girls can still get pregnant even without penetrative sex [OMG my mum just said 'penetrative' - floor swallow me know] so please just be careful".

My dad's advice however shows the gender differnce nicely:
*lowers paper* "As long as you use protection and I don't hear you, go nuts!".
(Fri 12th Feb 2010, 12:07, More)

» Caught!

Long story...bear with it. She did last night...
Fuck me sideways, sometimes I never make my life easy. The fairly epic story starts Wednesday a few years back.

The day had been sweet: met my friend, lets call her E after her final exam, went to lunch, had some drinks, an afternoon of pretty great sex and onto the pub. Now an important note her is that 7.30pm next morning I was catching a flight to Mexico from Heathrow. I was currently in Oxford...it's ok, don't drink too much and catch the first train there: simple.

Things are never straightforward. To cut a long story slightly shorter, went out for a fag, came back in and caught E trying to eat the face off my mate. Not so fun, as far as I was concerned we kinda had a thing. Took the mature response and got absolutely shitfaced.

Fate threw me another curve ball as all my stuff was back at E's college room. Joy. So, hammered and pissed off, I half walked, half carried E back to hers to grab my stuff. Thing about Oxford colleges is that a lot of them have scan card security. This was no exception and I couldn't get out as E had hers with her. Ended up having to throw my bags over a wall, climb a tree and coordinate getting over the wall reasonably successfully, whilst not being caught by security. Finally got to the station, train to heathrow. Have you any idea what it is like to vomit in a Firt Great Western toilet at 4 in the morning? I personally feel that it is a rich, cultural experience that not enough people partake in.

Check in at the airport still drunk. Flight to Madrid was fine I guess, except for the spewing. I tell you what though, when you are calling God on the great steel telephone at 35,000 ft, you certainly get the impression you are a lot closer to him answering. Flight to Miami was delayed, and since American airports don't count as international territory, had to Immigrate to transfer. Missed my flight. Queued for another ticket, and was issued one with 20 mins to get across the airport and through all the security checks.

Shit. Was running round and to this day still unsure how this happened. Next thing I heard was a yelled shout, and I thought, hey, at least if I miss my flight I can see someone being arrested. And yup, you've guessed it: it was me. There were several large men with guns trained on me: apparently an exhausted, sweaty, dirty British national running for a flight is some fucking goddam threat to their precious ideals of national security. So i was arrested by the land of the free and the brave. Bag gone, marched to a side room where i was questioned by 2 very nice officials as to why I felt there was a hurry. When a quiet explaination of my situation prompted a search, I got a little pissed off. This only lead to more questions of whether I was on drugs and should I be?

Hey its fine - I never wanted a holiday.

Homeland security have no sense of humour. Oh and never ask for an apology: It doesn't go down well.

No apologies for length. Not big enough to have to apologies...
(Fri 4th Jun 2010, 9:13, More)
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