b3ta.com user Cydonija
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CadaverForSale.com - How much is your cadaver worth?

Your Last Words:

"Nice doggy."

What Will Your Famous Last Words Be?

Blogthings: Cheaper Than a Therapist

You Are Going to Hell

Going to hell is fine with you. You're not sure if you even believe in hell.

And if there is a hell, it's probably a pretty fun place! You rather be stuck with the troublemakers.

Life is short, so why wouldn't you live it up? Being good is incredibly boring.

You're not going to miss out on anything in life... even if you have to lie, steal, or cheat to get it.

Are You Going to Heaven or Hell?

The First Rule of Blogthings Is: You Don't Talk About Blogthings

You Are the Alarm Clock

You don't have much of an opinion on mornings. No matter whether you like them or hate them, you have to get up.

Your mornings tend to be a bit of a rushed affair. You have to be out the door by a certain time, and you have to hustle.

You are not a big fan of wasting time, and the morning is no exception. You have a lot to get done, and it's time to get cracking.

It's fair to say that you're on autopilot during the wee hours of the day. You have mornings down to a science.

What Part of the Morning Are You?

Blogthings: A Fine Line Between Insight and Stupidity

Recent front page messages:


Best answers to questions:

» Devastating Put-Downs

Drunks are funny... and confusing
The girl who lives in the flat next to mine is a bit of a drinker, and has on many occasions come back to hers totally steaming and has all the stealth of an elephant.
Last night was one such occasion, only she stopped short of her flat and tried to get into mine. Cue much rattling of the door and cursing and hammering - at about 2am, so I go to point out her error as politely as possible.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I demand.
Slight pause in the door assault, "What ya doin in my fuckin flat??"
"This is my flat, you live next door you dosy bitch!"
Longer pause whilst this sinks in, "Yeah... Well don't you fuckin forget it neither!"

Not quite a put down, but it shut me up.
(Wed 30th Nov 2011, 10:48, More)

» Overheard secrets

What not to store in your office desk
Not something that I overheard, but it is certainly a case of I know their secret but they don't know I do. Or it may be a case of "they know I know their dirty grim secret".

I work for an IT training company as a trainer, and am based out of an office that I share with our head of resourcing, technical trainer and a sales manager. We used to work in an office by the NEC, but have since moved somewhere a lot nicer, even if it is still in Birmingham - but great for me as I can now walk to the office in 30 mins!!

This new office is a lot smaller since it is only me and San (head of resourcing) who are in the office frequently enough to warrent desks, but there are 3 desks, mine and San's are near the windows and the sales manager, Kim, has been allocated a desk in a corner by the door as she hardly ever comes in any more.
This is because her husband has left her after finding out she was having an affair. Sadly, me and San caught onto this MONTHS before he did, poor bloke. Aside from her talking to him on the phone with the same attitude I give dog shit on my shoe, she also seemed to spend a shocking ammount of time sat in our old office with the blinds drawn (she sat by the window facing down the office so we couldn't see her laptop screen) with a webcam set up facing her, wearing revealing tops and sucking on lolly pops like she was wishing it was something else.

It got right on our nerves as it meant spending all day in an office under crappy lights. But like I said, hubby found out and left her - good for him! Now she stays at home claiming to have no childcare in place, despite earning more than I could in a year, so when San and I decided we wanted better digs to work from, she couldn't complain - not that she didn't try.

After a couple of months "Operation Breakout" as we named it was a success and we got our new, clean, pun-surrounded office. San and I then had to move all our stuff into the new office. We told Kim to get her arse in and help move her shit, but surprisingly she didn't turn up. I wanted to leave her stuff behind and use the excuse that after she lost her keys to her desk in our old office (and decided one of us MUST have taken it)and having locked her spares IN HER FUCKING DESK, neither me or San wanted to touch her stuff lest it go missing.

San told me that it was not worth the earache and potential bolocking we'd get (Kim had a way of convincing High-Ups she was perfect and everyone else was shit - she likes to get people sacked, but that is for another QOTW). So we opened her desk draws to package her crap up to move.

We were not prepared for what was in there.

Underwear. Fucking panties and bras - expensive ones judging by the boxes, that they weren't in!! I mean FFS who brings and stores lacy underwear in their office desk!!?? I claimed on grounds of health and safety we shouldn't touch them, so we pulled out the draw and up-ended the lot into a bin bag, double bagged it and put it in a box. Which is now sat by her new desk.

She still hasn't come in, and part of me thinks it's because she knows we know her frilly secrets. I hope it is, the woman is a harpie and plays the same 3 Leona Lewis songs over, and over again from her iPhone...

(Tue 30th Aug 2011, 11:56, More)

» Overheard secrets

Tent's Aren't Soundproof
About 3/4 years ago I went on a camping holiday with my parents and younger sister. I have been on many camping holidays with them, but this was the first one where we had our own tent (technically was a 16 man tent but me and my sister wanted our own pod and dad wanted somewhere to store the mini-fridge and all the cooking stuff). We had gone up to the south of France, we like it there as you get the beautiful scenerey, the heat and can freak out the locals by talking to them in French (they don't get many Brits where we used to go - at least not many who knew what they were saying!)

Anyway, this tent was awsome. We had all been out on a wine-tasting trip, bought many new wines and were getting through them quite happily. We are quite a relaxed bunch anyway, so decided to play a game - this game was called, guess which Disney film this song came from. None of us is musically talented. My mum is tone deaf. We were pretty loud, mostly from pissing ourselves when my sister got confused and was insisting that Can You Feel The Love Tonight was from Beauty and the Best.

This continued for an hour or so, then we started with Inspector Clueseau impressions, which sparked many comedy impressions.

Then we decided to call it a night. Or we tried to. My dad decided before going to sleep to let rip with an impressive fart, sending us women into fits of giggles and a surge of fake farting (where you blow into the crook of your arm or back of the hand).

We thought this was fantastic.

Next morning, I was first up to treck out to the toilet block to get brush teeth, brush hair etc, when I hear someone humming near-by. From the tent next to us in fact. They were humming Disney songs, trying hard not to laugh. They never said anything, but we all knew they had heard Every. Damn. Thing.

We left the campsite as soon as possible for the day and didn't come back until it was dark. God (if it exists) only knows what they thought the farting was all about!!
(Tue 30th Aug 2011, 10:39, More)

» Losing it

I know I'm too young for alzheimer's
But sometimes I do wonder. For example, I have once been so convinced that I left my car unlocked (I have to park on a road) and that it WOULD get car-jacked if I didn't check it that I have run down 4 flights of snow and out to my car only to realise that

(a) there were more people out at 3am then I thought there would be,
(b) the car was actually locked,
and (c) I had done this in only my bra and pants... people were staring, and I had to pretend there was something very important in my car that was worth appearing half naked in the snow, in public for....
(Mon 25th Jul 2011, 13:45, More)

» Trolls

Chicken Milking Kit
This is my first post, so be gentle! ;-)

My Uncle Troy is truely a legendary man. There are many stories that I have of him, but this one I think is the closest to trolling I can think of.

A year ago, my uncle was in his local pub helping the landlord to pipe in some (I suspect illegal) sport channels. Whilst they were moving things around the landlord found something my uncle had made in order to wind up one of the (rather dim) barmaids... a Chicken Milking Kit. Overjoyed with this, my uncle decided the only thing that should be done with this was to sell it on e-bay...

For Sale: 1 "used" Chicken Milking Kit
Price £0.99
Description: Due to the recent down turn in the economy, my family owned business that supplies Chicken Milk is being closed down. As a company we have sold many products made from the purest chicken milk, from cheese to yogurt and everything in beween.

(there is a bit more history on the business and how to milk a chicken but cannot remember it all!)

It ends with:- So I hope that you will endevour to keep this dying trade alive, and purchase this kit. However, a particularly feisty chicken did cause the breakage of the milking stool that was previously a part of this kit - apologies.

I managed to get a picture of this wonderful kit before it was taken down from e-bay, and it gives me great pleasure to talk to people about the kit... and how many actually think you can milk a chicken!

This is the link to the picture of the kit :-)
(Thu 26th May 2011, 10:59, More)
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