Profile for Dexien:
Me? I'm a 22 year old Brightoner.
What else. Uh. It's difficult to fill these in without sounding and feeling like a complete moron. Minimal effort. A few pictures.

My lurvely little sugar glider, Saffron, who has been Beattied by Mr. Duke Of Prunes.

Me, by the very talented Rev Jesse Custer.

GOB (George the Occasional Bastard) by Sticky Label.

By GoldenFanjita

Yarr. Ye won't be taking no liberties with the female buccaneer. Truly a bastion of feminism, ye woman pirate will seize ye gold, cut off ye genitals and wear them as a necklace, all before her morning grog. Empowering. Yarrr.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
[read all their answers]
- a member for 5 years, 5 months and 21 days
- has posted 726 messages on the main board
- has posted 33 messages on the talk board
- has posted 0 messages on the links board
- has posted 13 stories and 0 replies on question of the week
- They liked 8 pictures, 0 links, 0 talk posts, and 6 qotw answers.
- Ignore this user
- Add this user as a friend
- send me a message
Me? I'm a 22 year old Brightoner.
What else. Uh. It's difficult to fill these in without sounding and feeling like a complete moron. Minimal effort. A few pictures.

My lurvely little sugar glider, Saffron, who has been Beattied by Mr. Duke Of Prunes.

Me, by the very talented Rev Jesse Custer.
| adopt your own virtual pet! |

GOB (George the Occasional Bastard) by Sticky Label.

By GoldenFanjita

Yarr. Ye won't be taking no liberties with the female buccaneer. Truly a bastion of feminism, ye woman pirate will seize ye gold, cut off ye genitals and wear them as a necklace, all before her morning grog. Empowering. Yarrr.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Messing with the Dark Side
I've never really had anything 'spooky' happen to me, but my gran has.
It was just after they were married, and she was abroad on her honeymoon with my grandfather and they were staying at some old hotel. Being young, they were more than pleased when an old porter offered to show them around and look after them. She said he was the nicest guy you could ever talk to, really friendly, happy to carry or fetch anything. At the end of the holiday, she begged him for a photograph, as she considered him a friend (and she takes pictures of bloody everything). He insisted he didn't want one taken. My gran took some anyway, much to his protests.
The day they left, my gran decided to help their friend and found the hotel manager. She then proceeded to tell him what a thoughtful, helpful, and important member of their staff she thought the porter was. The manager looked at her for a while, and pointed out there was no one of his description working for them. All their porters were young, and, with all due respect ma'am, they certainly wouldn't be allowed to go fussing around helping two individual guests when there was a busy hotel to run.
Determined to prove her point that they did have a guy like that working for them, as soon as they were back in England, my gran got her photos developed. Only, the ones she took of the old porter guy were simply pictures of the walls, the bed, every jaunty background angle you could imagine. But no porter.
So either it was a ghost, or some tramp who was secretly working for the hotel and was good at dodging pictures.
(Mon 24th Apr 2006, 12:36, More)
I've never really had anything 'spooky' happen to me, but my gran has.
It was just after they were married, and she was abroad on her honeymoon with my grandfather and they were staying at some old hotel. Being young, they were more than pleased when an old porter offered to show them around and look after them. She said he was the nicest guy you could ever talk to, really friendly, happy to carry or fetch anything. At the end of the holiday, she begged him for a photograph, as she considered him a friend (and she takes pictures of bloody everything). He insisted he didn't want one taken. My gran took some anyway, much to his protests.
The day they left, my gran decided to help their friend and found the hotel manager. She then proceeded to tell him what a thoughtful, helpful, and important member of their staff she thought the porter was. The manager looked at her for a while, and pointed out there was no one of his description working for them. All their porters were young, and, with all due respect ma'am, they certainly wouldn't be allowed to go fussing around helping two individual guests when there was a busy hotel to run.
Determined to prove her point that they did have a guy like that working for them, as soon as they were back in England, my gran got her photos developed. Only, the ones she took of the old porter guy were simply pictures of the walls, the bed, every jaunty background angle you could imagine. But no porter.
So either it was a ghost, or some tramp who was secretly working for the hotel and was good at dodging pictures.
(Mon 24th Apr 2006, 12:36, More)
» Public Transport Trauma
The vomit on the bus goes round and round..
A friend of mine called Hippie Ben had had a fairly rough night, and him and his mates were catching an early morning bus back home. He sadly suffers from Chrohns disease, but that doesn't stop him induldging in every type of narcotic and intoxicant he can lay his hands on. Hippie has earned his nickname .. long ginger hair, lanky, 'alternative', drug addict.
Anyway, they parked themselves right at the back of the bus, and as the early morning rush began, a couple of girls sat down near them. The girls began giggling to one another, nudging and making disparging remarks. They openly mocked his hair, his piercings, his clothes, his shoes, his face, and the same for each of his friends, one by one. Not ones to make a scene, Ben and his pals just sat back and tried to ignore them.
Nature had another idea. Abruptly, due to a mix of Crohns and intoxicants, Ben felt his guts churn over. A graceful, arcing jet of thick, lumpy spew erupted from his mouth and spattered into the seat next to the two chavettes.
Smirking a bit, Ben wiped his mouth and winked. "Morning, ladies."
They got off at the next stop.
(Thu 29th May 2008, 17:20, More)
The vomit on the bus goes round and round..
A friend of mine called Hippie Ben had had a fairly rough night, and him and his mates were catching an early morning bus back home. He sadly suffers from Chrohns disease, but that doesn't stop him induldging in every type of narcotic and intoxicant he can lay his hands on. Hippie has earned his nickname .. long ginger hair, lanky, 'alternative', drug addict.
Anyway, they parked themselves right at the back of the bus, and as the early morning rush began, a couple of girls sat down near them. The girls began giggling to one another, nudging and making disparging remarks. They openly mocked his hair, his piercings, his clothes, his shoes, his face, and the same for each of his friends, one by one. Not ones to make a scene, Ben and his pals just sat back and tried to ignore them.
Nature had another idea. Abruptly, due to a mix of Crohns and intoxicants, Ben felt his guts churn over. A graceful, arcing jet of thick, lumpy spew erupted from his mouth and spattered into the seat next to the two chavettes.
Smirking a bit, Ben wiped his mouth and winked. "Morning, ladies."
They got off at the next stop.
(Thu 29th May 2008, 17:20, More)
» Now, there was no need for that...
Working for a vet at work experience..
I was invited to watch all the open surgery and so on, which I did with great interest. Cue a dog coming in. Cue the vet putting the dog on the table and knocking it out with some happy gas. Cue the vet sticking his gloved finger knuckledeep in the dogs arse in some attempt to find a gland of some description that needed removing.
If this didn't make me feel sick, the blood and shit that abruptly began spurting at short, regular intervals, down the vet's front, most certainly did.
(Thu 16th Jun 2005, 14:23, More)
Working for a vet at work experience..
I was invited to watch all the open surgery and so on, which I did with great interest. Cue a dog coming in. Cue the vet putting the dog on the table and knocking it out with some happy gas. Cue the vet sticking his gloved finger knuckledeep in the dogs arse in some attempt to find a gland of some description that needed removing.
If this didn't make me feel sick, the blood and shit that abruptly began spurting at short, regular intervals, down the vet's front, most certainly did.
(Thu 16th Jun 2005, 14:23, More)
» When I met the parents
My mother..
.. decided it would be a marvellous time for me and my boyfriend to sit down with my family, and have a proper family meal. Said family meals don't happen often.
.. and due to the fact my brother leaned forward and swung his leg high in the air to release one of the most gut wrenching, nose wrinkling, heart trembling farts I have ever heard in my life, it'll happen even less.
(Mon 23rd May 2005, 23:52, More)
My mother..
.. decided it would be a marvellous time for me and my boyfriend to sit down with my family, and have a proper family meal. Said family meals don't happen often.
.. and due to the fact my brother leaned forward and swung his leg high in the air to release one of the most gut wrenching, nose wrinkling, heart trembling farts I have ever heard in my life, it'll happen even less.
(Mon 23rd May 2005, 23:52, More)
