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Hullos!
I can be contacted at [email protected]
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Hullos!
I can be contacted at [email protected]
Recent front page messages:
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Best answers to questions:
» Council Cunts
This is my own fault, admittedly...
So the main university street in Glasgow has parking meters. Fair play, I thought - free parking if you have a uni permit, and free parking at weekends and after 6pm. I have no permit, but I was parking from 9pm Friday to 1am Sunday (Uni orchestra trip away).
Unfortunately I couldn't find a space on the road, so I drove literally 15 feet from the main road and parked there. I assumed it was the same parking rules - foolish me.
Come back, ooh, a nice big parking ticket. £30 if I paid now, £60 if I waited a month. I looked at the small print on the machine - the side road is a 24/7 every day parking ticket hell. Probably something to do with a large tourist attraction being half a mile down that road at the other end.
So, yes, I do know I was at fault here for not checking the small print. However I was annoyed, both at myself and at the council. So I decided some form of petty revenge was in order.
As it happened, I could pay over the phone, by cheque or at a Council office. So the next day I went to my bank and withdrew £30 worth in 1p pieces. Put them all into a plastic bag and to the council 'pay up shop' I went.
Petty, yes, but they had to count every one in case I was trying to scam them. This made me happy for some reason.
(Fri 27th Jul 2007, 21:17, More)
This is my own fault, admittedly...
So the main university street in Glasgow has parking meters. Fair play, I thought - free parking if you have a uni permit, and free parking at weekends and after 6pm. I have no permit, but I was parking from 9pm Friday to 1am Sunday (Uni orchestra trip away).
Unfortunately I couldn't find a space on the road, so I drove literally 15 feet from the main road and parked there. I assumed it was the same parking rules - foolish me.
Come back, ooh, a nice big parking ticket. £30 if I paid now, £60 if I waited a month. I looked at the small print on the machine - the side road is a 24/7 every day parking ticket hell. Probably something to do with a large tourist attraction being half a mile down that road at the other end.
So, yes, I do know I was at fault here for not checking the small print. However I was annoyed, both at myself and at the council. So I decided some form of petty revenge was in order.
As it happened, I could pay over the phone, by cheque or at a Council office. So the next day I went to my bank and withdrew £30 worth in 1p pieces. Put them all into a plastic bag and to the council 'pay up shop' I went.
Petty, yes, but they had to count every one in case I was trying to scam them. This made me happy for some reason.
(Fri 27th Jul 2007, 21:17, More)
» Things you've done when you've had no money.
My friend is as poor as me. At my school instead of cash they have swipe cards - essentially, credit cards that have money on them that you use in vending machines and in the lunchroom. You can put coins onto your balance at a "revaluator" - a small metal box in the wall with a coin slot, a wee screen and a swipe thingy.
What my friend realised was the whole thing was computer-controlled. So he found a PC that a helpful IT Support staff member had forgotten to log off of, opened the "SkoolMoney(TM)" program [not it's real name] and added about £150 to his bank account. Needless to say, he was caught.
He tried again two months later - he discovered if you swiped your card, proceeded to cut a red wire in the side of the revaluator and then reconnect it, your credit balance would fly upwards, roughly £15 a second. [course, if you cut the blue wire the bomb would blow]. He got about £225 before a teacher found him at a revaluator, screwdriver and swiss army knife in hand, and asked him what the hell he was playing at.
(Fri 8th Oct 2004, 23:15, More)
My friend is as poor as me. At my school instead of cash they have swipe cards - essentially, credit cards that have money on them that you use in vending machines and in the lunchroom. You can put coins onto your balance at a "revaluator" - a small metal box in the wall with a coin slot, a wee screen and a swipe thingy.
What my friend realised was the whole thing was computer-controlled. So he found a PC that a helpful IT Support staff member had forgotten to log off of, opened the "SkoolMoney(TM)" program [not it's real name] and added about £150 to his bank account. Needless to say, he was caught.
He tried again two months later - he discovered if you swiped your card, proceeded to cut a red wire in the side of the revaluator and then reconnect it, your credit balance would fly upwards, roughly £15 a second. [course, if you cut the blue wire the bomb would blow]. He got about £225 before a teacher found him at a revaluator, screwdriver and swiss army knife in hand, and asked him what the hell he was playing at.
(Fri 8th Oct 2004, 23:15, More)
» The Worst Journey in the World
The train to Milton Keynes
Imagine that it is 9am. Also imagine you have been heavily drinking the night before, and only reached your bed at 4am. Add to that you had 3 hours' sleep and have just gotten on the train from Glasgow Central to Milton Keynes.
You have never slept in a train before successfully, but desperately want to either sleep, or curl up and die. You find that, once you have sat down, a heavily overweight hippy chooses to sit next to you, despite the rest of the carriage being empty. Needless to say, you excuse yourself by saying you needed the toilet, then scarpering.
Half an hour into the journey, you realise that because the train is empty, you could lie down in the middle corridor. Brainwave, surely. You do so, finally get yourself comfortable [you'd forgotten your bulky wallet was in your pocket, and therefore you couldn't lie on that side]. Your head finally touches the not-that-shabby carpet, and suddenly,
"TICKETS PLEASE".
Yep, you have a comedy conductor. Clearly she [for it is a female, overweight, slathered in makeup and sounding more like Vicky Pollard than anyone you've heard before. You also suspect she has lesbian romps with the onboard shop assistant, which explains it has been shut, denying you of your needed caffienated lifejuice] can see you are hungover and decides to take it out on you, presumably because you made the mistake of being born with a penis.
Once she disappears, having found no good reason to prolong your torture, you lie down again, and are on the verge of sleep, when you bash your head. What? What's going on here? What cruel person is inflicting pain upon you?
Oh, you've just realised. It's one of those bloody new Virgin tilty trains. You're lying down in the corridor, and as soon as you lose motor control and surrender to sleep you roll into a chair at high speed. Fucking train.
And to top it all off, you're going through all of this only to end up in Milton Keynes.
(Thu 7th Sep 2006, 19:49, More)
The train to Milton Keynes
Imagine that it is 9am. Also imagine you have been heavily drinking the night before, and only reached your bed at 4am. Add to that you had 3 hours' sleep and have just gotten on the train from Glasgow Central to Milton Keynes.
You have never slept in a train before successfully, but desperately want to either sleep, or curl up and die. You find that, once you have sat down, a heavily overweight hippy chooses to sit next to you, despite the rest of the carriage being empty. Needless to say, you excuse yourself by saying you needed the toilet, then scarpering.
Half an hour into the journey, you realise that because the train is empty, you could lie down in the middle corridor. Brainwave, surely. You do so, finally get yourself comfortable [you'd forgotten your bulky wallet was in your pocket, and therefore you couldn't lie on that side]. Your head finally touches the not-that-shabby carpet, and suddenly,
"TICKETS PLEASE".
Yep, you have a comedy conductor. Clearly she [for it is a female, overweight, slathered in makeup and sounding more like Vicky Pollard than anyone you've heard before. You also suspect she has lesbian romps with the onboard shop assistant, which explains it has been shut, denying you of your needed caffienated lifejuice] can see you are hungover and decides to take it out on you, presumably because you made the mistake of being born with a penis.
Once she disappears, having found no good reason to prolong your torture, you lie down again, and are on the verge of sleep, when you bash your head. What? What's going on here? What cruel person is inflicting pain upon you?
Oh, you've just realised. It's one of those bloody new Virgin tilty trains. You're lying down in the corridor, and as soon as you lose motor control and surrender to sleep you roll into a chair at high speed. Fucking train.
And to top it all off, you're going through all of this only to end up in Milton Keynes.
(Thu 7th Sep 2006, 19:49, More)
» The most cash I've ever carried
I am a student (read : I am a cheap bastard)
Therefore any money I have is converted almost immediately into the much more useful currency of alcohol.
However, after a night of epic proportions [in terms of amounts of alcohol drunk], I discovered I had missed my local YF (Youth Fellowship, teenage sunday school, basically) 's annual meeting. They'd also texted me, saying "Want to be treasurer next year? If you don't reply we'll assume it's a yes".
Bearing in mind I had little control over my legs in the morning and tiny precise movements like text messages were out of the question, I realised I'd been shackled with it.
So a couple weeks later I recieve the gubbins that comes with the post [which is to say a tin of change, and semi-control over the YF's bank account]. The tin contained £60 in assorted coins, which always proved useful when I needed cash for the bus in the morning / for a breakfast pint.
Anywho, eventually we get round to the big fundraiser [a pantomime], and I realise not only do I have to sell tickets on the night, and be the dame, but combine the two and sell tickets whilst in a dame outfit.
End result - £997 in cash [and £6 in cheques], all in a shortbread tin in my car that doesn't lock due to my cheapskatedness in fixing it. For a week. As I kept 'forgetting' to go to the bank [read : needed the change for pints].
Eventually fate caught up with me though, I had to produce end-of-year accounts, and had exact amounts from the panto written down. Turns out I'd "liberated" £130 out that tin over a couple months.
So I had to get an overdraft so the charities would get their money and everyone would be happy and I wouldn't go directly to the lowest circle of hell. And I ended up carrying £990 in cash, mostly in £1 and £2 coins, in a beaten up shortbread tin, through my town.
*witty end comment here*
(Fri 23rd Jun 2006, 20:34, More)
I am a student (read : I am a cheap bastard)
Therefore any money I have is converted almost immediately into the much more useful currency of alcohol.
However, after a night of epic proportions [in terms of amounts of alcohol drunk], I discovered I had missed my local YF (Youth Fellowship, teenage sunday school, basically) 's annual meeting. They'd also texted me, saying "Want to be treasurer next year? If you don't reply we'll assume it's a yes".
Bearing in mind I had little control over my legs in the morning and tiny precise movements like text messages were out of the question, I realised I'd been shackled with it.
So a couple weeks later I recieve the gubbins that comes with the post [which is to say a tin of change, and semi-control over the YF's bank account]. The tin contained £60 in assorted coins, which always proved useful when I needed cash for the bus in the morning / for a breakfast pint.
Anywho, eventually we get round to the big fundraiser [a pantomime], and I realise not only do I have to sell tickets on the night, and be the dame, but combine the two and sell tickets whilst in a dame outfit.
End result - £997 in cash [and £6 in cheques], all in a shortbread tin in my car that doesn't lock due to my cheapskatedness in fixing it. For a week. As I kept 'forgetting' to go to the bank [read : needed the change for pints].
Eventually fate caught up with me though, I had to produce end-of-year accounts, and had exact amounts from the panto written down. Turns out I'd "liberated" £130 out that tin over a couple months.
So I had to get an overdraft so the charities would get their money and everyone would be happy and I wouldn't go directly to the lowest circle of hell. And I ended up carrying £990 in cash, mostly in £1 and £2 coins, in a beaten up shortbread tin, through my town.
*witty end comment here*
(Fri 23rd Jun 2006, 20:34, More)
» Get Rich Quick
Young Enterprise
Loads of schools offer a 'young enterprise' scheme. Basically, you pretend to be a business for a year - sell shares at school (up to the value of £5), sell something, and if you're lucky organise a prom and make millions.
Well, that's the plan. Usual result is that the people running it run out of effort and stop bothering, and sell something crap like bubble-blowing liquid.
We thought we'd do something different. We picked the four least-unmusical in our group, raided the drama department and decided, for Valentines' Day, we were doing "Singing Valentines", using a barbershop quartet.
£3 per valentine. This was a bargain - we disturbed classes in order to sing, and it took a minute of our time. Certain teachers used it to disturb rival teachers' classes.
The best bits? Well, we got a day off school to do it. We didn't ask, we just took it.
We also made a huge profit (something ludicrous, like £500). It worked out at £40 to each YE member, even after we had paid back all the shareholders their share plus half.
Free £40 isn't bad at all. Especially when the only downsides are running around, singing at people, and having a sore throat the next morning.
(Tue 5th Aug 2008, 22:02, More)
Young Enterprise
Loads of schools offer a 'young enterprise' scheme. Basically, you pretend to be a business for a year - sell shares at school (up to the value of £5), sell something, and if you're lucky organise a prom and make millions.
Well, that's the plan. Usual result is that the people running it run out of effort and stop bothering, and sell something crap like bubble-blowing liquid.
We thought we'd do something different. We picked the four least-unmusical in our group, raided the drama department and decided, for Valentines' Day, we were doing "Singing Valentines", using a barbershop quartet.
£3 per valentine. This was a bargain - we disturbed classes in order to sing, and it took a minute of our time. Certain teachers used it to disturb rival teachers' classes.
The best bits? Well, we got a day off school to do it. We didn't ask, we just took it.
We also made a huge profit (something ludicrous, like £500). It worked out at £40 to each YE member, even after we had paid back all the shareholders their share plus half.
Free £40 isn't bad at all. Especially when the only downsides are running around, singing at people, and having a sore throat the next morning.
(Tue 5th Aug 2008, 22:02, More)