b3ta.com user Telly
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» Stupid Colleagues

I once interviewed a chap for a design job who didn't have a lot of, well, variety in his CV. When I questioned him about this he said "yes, I know it might look like that but actually I'm not a one horse town."
(Sun 6th Mar 2011, 17:14, More)

» Irrational Hatred

When they keep stopping to explain to each other what they're doing and why they're doing it.
(Thu 31st Mar 2011, 22:23, More)

» Awesome teachers

Biology teacher
In year 9, my biology teacher was quickly trying to remind the class of what the female reproductive system looks like and what all the parts do.

She turned to draw it on the board, but the board was too full of other important notes.

So she did a full-body mime.
(Sun 20th Mar 2011, 12:25, More)

» Iffy crushes

Screw loose
As a teenager (and still a bit now), it was all about Richard O'Brien from The Crystal Maze, and Lieutenant Commander Data from Star Trek TNG.
(Sat 8th Oct 2011, 12:17, More)

» Self-Inflicted injuries

Middle class cheese related injury
I had a parmesan knife. It's like a little stubby dagger, with a rounded wooden handle. Like this: goo.gl/jzTqNA

I'd started the week by buying a bunch of delicious salad ingredients with my meagre wage packet: nice leaves, asparagus, parma ham, lovely posh herbs and so on. Can't remember the reason for the extravagance, think I'd done something good at work and I seem to recall I was celebrating.

I'd had a couple of beers after work and then opened the wine as soon as I got home as I started to cook. The salad looked amazing. Absolutely incredible. Sitting there, glistening, all prepared, just in need of the finishing touch: some flakes of parmesan, and then I could tuck in.

You're meant to use these a parmesan knife a bit like one of those rounded potato peelers: you hold the cheese in one hand and gently cradle the knife handle in the fingers of your your other hand, scraping off some lovely wibbly flakes of cheese, guiding the blade by pushing it sideways with your thumb. I knew this, but I was feeling buouyed about life, and so, so hungry. So instead, I held the cheese loosely in one hand, grabbed the knife, daggerishly, in the other, and began to enthusiastically strike the blade against the cheese like one would a flint against a firesteel.

Naturally I removed much of the skin on my topmost knuckles, together with a small amount of parmesan, all into my plate.

Given the expense I still ate the salad, wearing the "got no plasters" emergency mitten, made out of kitchen roll, on my left hand. Occasionally pausing to pick out bits of cuticle and fingernail from my dinner.
(Sat 30th Nov 2013, 23:32, More)
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