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Profile for Jimbuktu:
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75% water, 22% woo, 2% yay, 1% houpla.

I know all about coffee for a living and design t-shirts and (sometimes) draw pinups and things like this. I'm learning the dark craft of brewing and amassing a small, lowbrow art collection.


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You can also say hello just to be nice too. Being nice is ace.





Recent front page messages:

Marketing gone mad!
/ducks for cover


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Woo! My first FP! :D
(Sun 9th May 2010, 23:49, More)

Best answers to questions:

» Food sabotage

Banana worm
You can poke dry spaghetti in to the bottom of an unpeeled banana so that it slides all the way up the inside. Leave it in the banana overnight, and the moisture turns the spaghetti soft-ish. Wait for your unsuspecting housemate/family member/local greedy glutton to start eating, and, wow! They think they've eaten part of some crazy ass tropical worm! Get it right and you can tell them it was a tape worm! Do it quick and you too can have a funny story to enter, but you may need to run fast when they find out....
(Fri 19th Sep 2008, 23:15, More)

» The Dark

Ooh, me! Me! Me!
Night is great for sleeping, with the smothering darkness cradling my admittedly generally strange dreams, though on the whole I enjoy them.

I was dreaming of something strange - I had my long hair back and it kept falling in my mouth, not disappearing like it normally would do or staying in one place so I could pick the stray end out, but almost tickling; every time I stopped it it would start again in another spot like an irritating itch.

Despite my attempts to stop this happening, it persisted until the point I started to drowsily awake to the growing realisation that this sensation was not only very annoying, but very probably real - holy shit - Real(?), no.....yes....no....yes. YES.

There is something in the real world that is IN MY MOUTH.

I'm in the generally accepted safest place in the world (in bed, under the covers, you know I'm right) I'm sleepily confused, can't see a thing, and there is definitely MOTHERFUCKING SOMETHING IN MY MOUTH! I can't spit it out, as I've tried that, I think, in my sleep(?), so I need the light on which is not that close and I do not know what is in my mouth, my room, or right now -my reality!

So I freak out. Spitting, spluttering, and scrambling for the lamp switch as I fall out of bed all the while bracing for the pain from a blow or the touch from something of which I am not sure. I find the switch and flick it -the light instantly blinds me but I am not yet in pain and I think the feeling has stopped but I'm not taking any chances. I roll off the floor and back into bed, sitting with my back to the wall trying to calm down while I work out what the hell is going on.

I have the hair on my fingertip where I plucked it out, but as my eyes begin to adjust I can make out a shape spasming lying next to me that doesn't make things better - what the hell is th... oh no, please no!

Lying next to me in bed is the partially dismembered (presumed eaten) body of a fucking daddy-long-legs spider, trying to crawl off down the side of the bed which, given that it only has three legs left it is doing rather unsuccessfully. Now I don't particularly like spiders at the best of times, so it's pretty obvious that fucker's dead. The 'hair' on my finger is a leg, I can find no more, though they aren't the biggest things in the world I'm pretty sure their absence means I've lived up to the rumour and been abruptly woken by trying to eat a spider too big to eat, in my sleep. Fuck.

Needless to say it took me a while to get back to sleep that night. :)

Edit: Thanks for the comments guys, looks like you all are feeling like I did -horrible isn't it?!
(Thu 23rd Jul 2009, 21:19, More)

» Now, there was no need for that...

Bees
When I was a nipper, a wasp flew into my shorts. Not coming out, a 'friend' of mine thought he'd kill it by kicking me in the nuts. That didn't work, but through the throbbing, I felt the half dead wasp (It's tail was half attached, with some funky innards hanging out) sting me on the gentleman....
Never going to Longleat again..
(Thu 16th Jun 2005, 11:03, More)

» Anonymous

Years ago
When the world was younger and more innocent I started what became a regular occurrence in my nights of fun.

There is a road near where I grew up that is one long terrace with those little front gardens that so often have nothing done with them. You know the sort, all sold the same front door by the double glazing man, or stuck with the old one that has been there for years and shares the same fading paint as your neighbour. Walking home one night a little the worse for wear I was struck by the similarity of the garden gates. More importantly, the similarity of the gate hinges (the sit on a peg sort)...

Being somewhat mischievous of mind and understanding the confusion a drunken mind can cast on the tired I did what seemed only natural. I switched gates. Houses would be 'moved' two doors up along with their neighbour, or two doors down, and occasionally the god awful decorations in a garden would be perfectly transplanted to complete the look.

Did I ever stay to watch the shenanigans as drunken people tried to figure out why their key didn't work in their door or how their journey seemed a few steps longer than usual? No. But if I ever saw an opportunity on any road, I would take it, and go to sleep chuckling. Damage was never done as the gates were the easy lift on, lift off type, and it even made the local rag for a while, people seemingly finding it as funny as me, if not a little bemusing.

Length? About 6 months all in all...
(Thu 14th Jan 2010, 23:36, More)

» Unexpected Nudity

World Heritage cock...
Back in the 80's there was a bit of a storm, blew a few trees down and stuff like that, one tree in particular dropping a branch on a little old ladies wall in her back garden that just so happens to be next to that lovely tourist attraction the Royal Crescent in Bath. Fast forward a couple of years and a 16 year old me and my boss at the time are fixing said wall and making some alterations so she could get her mobility scooter in and out (she told me she used to be a rally driver, and judging by the way she tore up Vicky Park that day I'm inclined believe her).

Being a lovely day in summer, and being a scruffy teen labourer I wasn't too fussed about wearing my trousers where there was a bit of a hole in the crotch. It let a bit of air in and helped keep things cool, and really wasn't that big...

Come lunchtime, and I went out back to lean against the wall and soak up the sun which was ace, watch all the tourists stroll by and dream of how many records I could by with the cash. Strangely though, the tourists were all acting a bit weird, some looking slightly offended by my scruffy self and some even taking pictures; not as if I was lowering the tone that much, and they could still get a good picture of the crescent without me in it if they just went round the corner, moody gits.

Half an hour later, I'm thinking it's time to go back to work, bend down to pick up my rubbish and ! I'm presented with my cock quite contentedly enjoying the sunshine just as much as me! My favourite boxers at the time, yes, the ones with holes in that you should throw away but don't because you like them, had colluded with the larger-than-I-remembered-it hole in my jeans and were teaching me a lesson in why blokes favourite clothing shouldn't be held on to for too long.

Surprised the tourists, hell, it surprised me! Had to endure a very self conscious afternoon of work too, especially as mini me seemed to have developed a taste for the fresh air.

I now throw my clothes away when they have holes in...
(Sun 31st May 2009, 15:30, More)
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