Profile for Fire & Forget:
Has photoshop but is crap at it.
CDCs on MS paint about my limit right now.
After leaving Mrs F&F, due to "artistic differences" in 2005, I am now staying with my 80's schooldays sweet-heart. Result.
I hate my work and I want a new job where I too can be on the 5 internets all day, drawing cocks and memes.
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- a member for 19 years, 4 months and 23 days
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- has posted 31 messages on the talk board
- has posted 304 messages on the links board
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- has posted 190 stories and 120 replies on question of the week
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Has photoshop but is crap at it.
CDCs on MS paint about my limit right now.
After leaving Mrs F&F, due to "artistic differences" in 2005, I am now staying with my 80's schooldays sweet-heart. Result.
I hate my work and I want a new job where I too can be on the 5 internets all day, drawing cocks and memes.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Stupid Tourists
Dumb Ass tourists
When I worked for Waterstones I was once asked for any local history books on "Ire-Land" by this female,middle aged american tourist.
"We dont have any" I replied
"Why not?"
"This is Edinburgh, not Ireland"
"I didn't say Island. I said Ire-land"
"I know, however you may find something in the european history section on the first floor" I said pointing to the escalator.
"You mean the 2nd floor?"
"Upstairs" I say with the falsest smile I could muster.
Ignorant bastards like that shouldn't be allowed to leave their country. These are the people who "video-ed" the castle from Princes St. Why? It doesnt fucking move, why video tape it. They also thought the Highlands were the more elevated bits of town. How did these people reach adulthood without being killed through their own stupidity?
(Thu 7th Jul 2005, 23:11, More)
Dumb Ass tourists
When I worked for Waterstones I was once asked for any local history books on "Ire-Land" by this female,middle aged american tourist.
"We dont have any" I replied
"Why not?"
"This is Edinburgh, not Ireland"
"I didn't say Island. I said Ire-land"
"I know, however you may find something in the european history section on the first floor" I said pointing to the escalator.
"You mean the 2nd floor?"
"Upstairs" I say with the falsest smile I could muster.
Ignorant bastards like that shouldn't be allowed to leave their country. These are the people who "video-ed" the castle from Princes St. Why? It doesnt fucking move, why video tape it. They also thought the Highlands were the more elevated bits of town. How did these people reach adulthood without being killed through their own stupidity?
(Thu 7th Jul 2005, 23:11, More)
» Conversation Killers
In Tesco on Saturday and overheard
Customer: "Do you have that Madeleine MacCann book? Its just come out"
Manager: "Its not on the shopfloor (looking at the shelves), it must be hiding"
Customer: o.O
(Mon 16th May 2011, 22:41, More)
In Tesco on Saturday and overheard
Customer: "Do you have that Madeleine MacCann book? Its just come out"
Manager: "Its not on the shopfloor (looking at the shelves), it must be hiding"
Customer: o.O
(Mon 16th May 2011, 22:41, More)
» Letters they'll never read
Dear Girls
I had to leave your mum.
The constant unrelenting mental torture she was putting me through was making me ill. Nothing was good enough, not enough money, not enough time. I wasn't allowed a social life but mocked for that too.
Her expectations of life and the way we should have lived it were, if I am being kind, a complete fantasy.
Your mums over emotional "sack cloth and ashes" approach to dealing with the trials and tribulations of life combined with the bizzare idolisation of her immediate (and hideously disfunctional) family have left her bitter and self absorbed.
This, of course, will make uncomfortable reading and I understand you may feel I am attacking your mum. But thats how I felt at the time.
The truth is that we all benefitted when I left. In the long run.
Except, there is not a day that goes by that I dont have this aching void where you two should be. Even now, now that you are both teenagers, I miss you like hell. Seeing you for a Sunday isnt really enough but you wil soon be old enough to make up your own mind about stuff like that.
Love
Dad
(that was a bit unexpected..soz...but never about the length)
(Sat 6th Mar 2010, 18:31, More)
Dear Girls
I had to leave your mum.
The constant unrelenting mental torture she was putting me through was making me ill. Nothing was good enough, not enough money, not enough time. I wasn't allowed a social life but mocked for that too.
Her expectations of life and the way we should have lived it were, if I am being kind, a complete fantasy.
Your mums over emotional "sack cloth and ashes" approach to dealing with the trials and tribulations of life combined with the bizzare idolisation of her immediate (and hideously disfunctional) family have left her bitter and self absorbed.
This, of course, will make uncomfortable reading and I understand you may feel I am attacking your mum. But thats how I felt at the time.
The truth is that we all benefitted when I left. In the long run.
Except, there is not a day that goes by that I dont have this aching void where you two should be. Even now, now that you are both teenagers, I miss you like hell. Seeing you for a Sunday isnt really enough but you wil soon be old enough to make up your own mind about stuff like that.
Love
Dad
(that was a bit unexpected..soz...but never about the length)
(Sat 6th Mar 2010, 18:31, More)
» The most cash I've ever carried
More Cash
if we are talking my own money...
I inherited a good amonut of hard cash when I was 21 but it took ages to get a hold of; red tape.
On a night out about 12 weeks after my birthday, I had been getting the rounds in, like everyone else, and by 11.45 was a bit skint so as we were all heading off to another pub I stopped off at the cash machine.
As it turned midnight, I pressed "mini statement" and was pleasantly surprised to read I had £42,015.15 in my account. [The £15.15 was what was in there before midnight.]
We got trollied that night.
Still got the wee slip of paper.
(Thu 22nd Jun 2006, 14:43, More)
More Cash
if we are talking my own money...
I inherited a good amonut of hard cash when I was 21 but it took ages to get a hold of; red tape.
On a night out about 12 weeks after my birthday, I had been getting the rounds in, like everyone else, and by 11.45 was a bit skint so as we were all heading off to another pub I stopped off at the cash machine.
As it turned midnight, I pressed "mini statement" and was pleasantly surprised to read I had £42,015.15 in my account. [The £15.15 was what was in there before midnight.]
We got trollied that night.
Still got the wee slip of paper.
(Thu 22nd Jun 2006, 14:43, More)
» Fire!
burning
I worked with a guy who had previously worked in an aluminium smelter.
He used to regale us with tales of the daft things people do when working with really hot molten metals.
One day I had jokingly enquired if he had ever seen any injuries, "'cause that thatf stuff would burn right through you..."
He went all quiet and said that the week he started there had been a fatal accident where someone had fallen into, or came into contact with some "vat" [or similar] of motlen aluminium and his lower torso had become instantly consumed by the metal [Terminator Style].
Except unlike in the film, he screamed, and screamed and screamed. What really freaked out my work mate was the sinister gossip which came out of all of that.
It was whispered round the factory that on seeing their mortally wounded team mate in the vat, screaming, the relative merits of shutting him up by poking him right under the surface were seemingly discussed! Eeek!
Sanity kicked in and they pulled him away but it was too late.
Well that killed the conversation on our lunch break, I can tell you!
(Sun 6th Nov 2005, 10:21, More)
burning
I worked with a guy who had previously worked in an aluminium smelter.
He used to regale us with tales of the daft things people do when working with really hot molten metals.
One day I had jokingly enquired if he had ever seen any injuries, "'cause that thatf stuff would burn right through you..."
He went all quiet and said that the week he started there had been a fatal accident where someone had fallen into, or came into contact with some "vat" [or similar] of motlen aluminium and his lower torso had become instantly consumed by the metal [Terminator Style].
Except unlike in the film, he screamed, and screamed and screamed. What really freaked out my work mate was the sinister gossip which came out of all of that.
It was whispered round the factory that on seeing their mortally wounded team mate in the vat, screaming, the relative merits of shutting him up by poking him right under the surface were seemingly discussed! Eeek!
Sanity kicked in and they pulled him away but it was too late.
Well that killed the conversation on our lunch break, I can tell you!
(Sun 6th Nov 2005, 10:21, More)