» Personal Hygiene

Like 2 weeks in the bush
Some of these stories have me gagging.
I can't really compete but here goes. I lived in darkest Africa for a few years and occassionaly had to go bush for a few weeks. Going bush meant sleeping in a hammock covered with mosquito nets, cooking over a camp fire and unable to wash.
After a week you could literally smell yourself rotting away and if you had a cock and ball scratch when you pulled your hands out your shorts you could smell that unmistakeable toe jam smell in the air. Freakin awful.

Anyway returned to civilisation and before I could get a shower at my flat the girlfriend appeared and wanted a bit there and then. She started to give me a blow job and I lost the hard on as I could imagine what it looked like never mind tasted like down there.

She was more than a litle disappointed and said she loved the taste it made her feel really slutty. Hard on back again and off she goes, slurp, slurp, slurp.

So everytime I went bush I'd really look forward to getting back to civilisation but even today I cringe whenever I think about her sucking on my sweaty stinky cheesy dick.

Hey if you recognise this story Anne send me an email, love to see you again,
(Sun 25th Mar 2007, 1:06, More)

» Banks

UK Banks
From what I've read in this qotw the UK banking system is apparently fucked.

Like me, there are hundreds of thousands of Kiwis who never carry cash. I use EFTPOS cards as every business accepts them. For internet purchases or the like I use a bank issued Visa Debit card (Much safer than a credit card). Most banks offer either a one of payment ($5 per month) to cover every transaction or a 10 cent loading per transaction.

ALL the banks are connected to a central system so any deposit to any bank is credited at midnight, cash deposits are available immediately at the same Bank not just the same branch. All ATM machines accept every flavour of EFTPOS card including credit cards and every ATM machine is fitted with an anti-skim device.
You're never more than 5 mins from an ATM machine, some shops/clubs even have their own private ATM machines connected to the network. Ideal for a busy club, they can fill the machine with notes from their cash tills.

Lost or stolen cards are replaced within 5 working days and it is possible to get a vanilla card - no name/expiry date from the bank branch in an emergency that will last 5 working days.(Actually happened to me last year)

I've banked with 3 different Banks here and they make it easy to move between banks. Sign the form and the Bank will arrange everything, moving your account, closing down the old account, setting up existing automatic payments and arranging similar overdrafts. If you've got a good credit record will even move your mortgage at the same time unless you got one of those 'got you by the balls' fixed rate mortgages. (Ask a banker about the pitfalls and penalties re fixed rate)

So having banked for 30 years here without any major dramas the only real cock up in all that time was with the Royal Bank of Scotland which I use for holding external funds when I'm travelling. The account is always in credit and yet I've been hit with overdraft fees (difficult to sort out being far away and in a different time zone) which were eventually credited.
A charge to a new RBS credit card in South Africa which I found more than highly suspicious as I'd never used that particular card so how did the arseholes get the number and the account name?
And once they 'lost' a deposit I'd made in a bank in Hamburg. Took me a few weeks to notice the account hadn't been credited and then untold phone calls that got me nowhere. Finally I complained to the UK Banking Ombudsman (http://www.financial-ombudsman.org.uk/consumer/complaints.htm), filled out the form, attached the deposit slip and some other papers and six weeks later the account was credited. No apology or explanation as to what happened from the RBS
(Sun 19th Jul 2009, 2:20, More)

» Pet Peeves

Off your chest?
With summer approaching in the Northern hemisphere my favourite peeve will soon be upon you. Chicks wearing Tees with indecipherable words across their chests. You stare, trying to figure out what it says and then glance at their faces which are usually giving you a filthy look as if to say "what the fuck are you looking at you pervert?"
If you don't want me to stare at your chest don't wear a Tee with obscure writing on it. Easy.

The same with chicks who wear plunging necklines or tiny shorts, if you don't want me to look don't wear something that my eyes are naturally attracted to. And no it's not something I can train my brain not to do nor would I want to.

I share a house with a couple of women and we got into the old argument about 'seat up, seat down'. What difference does it make? Takes as much effort either way. At least I lift the seat and afterwards wash my hands.

At the pub with the boys. One goes to take a pee before heading home, he comes back and shakes your hand - it's damp and you know he hasn't washed his hands. Mingin Bastard.

Your mate's a bit short of cash and he needs a loan 'till tomorrow. Two weeks later he still hasn't paid it back so you got to ask him for it. "I forgot" says he but how can you forget you borrowed a couple hundred bucks from someone? - regularly?

Orange coloured people who swear it's a natural tan when obviously it's not. The same for people (chicks) with orange legs but white faces and arms.

But my biggest peeve is the number of single women I meet who have very large MALE dogs. It is readily apparent that these dogs are not used for protection but used for some form of sexual gratification. Next time you see some poor woman being pulled along by some huge dog stop and make some idle chit-chat, then ask her how the dog performs. After a few seconds you'll notice a slight reddening of her cheeks and the reply "I don't know what you mean", give her a wink and saunter off.
Have a look round over the next few days and tell me I'm not right.
(Fri 2nd May 2008, 3:10, More)

» Public Sex

Not wanting to skite
but after reading some of these stories I have to... Remembering that I spent 12 years traveling makes more sense.

Rolling over in a bed in a hotel in Cyprus and seeing a group of women giggling after watching my performance with a young lady. They had climbed a private staircase by accident I assume.

In my cabin on a ship passing through the Welland Canal Locks (great Lakes) and giving a right rogering to my then girlfriend when a crowd of tourists, not two metres away, standing on the edge of the lock, slowly rose into view as the ship rose in the water. We paused until they disappeared from view and I didn't count the camera flashes.

Getting a bj on interstate 45, slowing down of course, and having this truckie keep pace with me in the fast lane while his passenger seemingly gave him a running commentary on what was happening. I couldn't shake him for miles.

Having a bonk in full public view in the plaza de mayo. She wearing a long skirt and I with shorts. Took at least half an hour so not to arouse suspicion though the vinegar strokes were a little hard to hide.

Klaipeda. A little love in the dunes watched over (unbeknown to me) by three soldiers in a watchtower. During a post coital cigarette ( nothing beats a ciggie afterwards) saw the flashes and recognised the watchtower with 3 figures with binoculars.

The fourth hole at Greenock Golf Course, having a cuddle on a rare summers day when some ejit over shot and the ball landed half a metre away in our bushes. Cuntsocks called his mates over to look for his ball and there he espied an extra two seemingly buried up to the hilt in some rabbit burrow. Coughs and splutters they ambled off forgetting their original quest.

bj from a total stranger (female luckily) who after a two hours conversation into our nine hour journey to London, in a Nat Express luxury coach(!), demanded, yes demanded to give me a bj under cover of a rug even though it was nightly. A few slurps later I found myself making strange noises from the back of my throat which seemed to attract the attention of a number of fellow travellers. Coughing only made matters worse as I tended to thrust with each spasm - which was nice - try it.

The best or most public (accidentally) was when my ex and I were driving up the North Island in NZ when we came across this turn off which led to a what can only be described as a two storey mausoleum in the middle of nowhere. (Near Palmerston North, you may know it - Memorial to WW1) We climbed up the stairs at the back and had a picnic in the sun behind this type of balustrade on the 'roof'. After our wine and sammiches we deamed a quickie au natural as the perfect dessert. Taking her from behind while she rested her arms on the balustrade we were soon enjoying the moment, the passion, the view and the giant tour bus pulling into the car park.Ten thousand people waved at us from the windows of the bus, while we, pounding away, waved merrily back. They could only see our shoulders and heads so we felt quite right in carrying on.And on we did finishing the moment with rather large cheesy grins.
(Sun 26th Apr 2009, 8:11, More)

» Unemployed

I've been contracting for 15 years
and in that time I've developed websites and intranet sites for some of the biggest companies in New Zealand. I started off pretty rough but over the years I've picked up programming experience, photoshop skills, database administration and put a few pennies away for rainy days. As these skills are picked up on the job (companies generally don't pay for courses for contractors) I ended up with heaps of experience but no paper qualifications.

18 months ago jobs started to dry up as the NZ Government (thank fuck they've been voted out) instigated an "open door" policy to immigration and suddenly there were heaps of Sri Lankans and Indians applying for IT and web jobs and only asking for a quarter of the going rate. They were all single and typically lived together, 6 to a two roomed apartment so could live relatively cheaply.

However I could see then writing on the wall and sure enough the day came when the development team was called into the Manager's office and told that we were either being made redundant or our contracts would be cancelled. On that friday we went to the pub and drowned our sorrows cursing the immigration laws and the farking Government.

I sat at home for the next two months doing seemingly what everybody else here did, wanking, spending countless hours on the tubes or watching day time TV, smoking way too much herb and drinking to excess. Applying for the most menial or mind destroying jobs just to get out of the house and mix with other adults. Getting more and more depressed and more frustrated. How come firms don't acknowledge your application? Not even to say "you're useless, fark off?"

Then I had a brain wave. Why not upskill and get that piece of paper that says you've attended all the courses and you're now officially skilled?

So I spent the next 10 months attending all sorts of courses - Microsoft, Oracle, Adobe Flash and Photoshop,and a few others and got the pieces of paper.

First job I applied for they offered it to me on the spot and the only difference was that I had pretty little certificates, I really didn't know that much more than a year previously, but the certificates got me the job.

I'm now working for the Government and rebuilding my cash reserves again.

So getting those bits of paper has been a godsend, something I should have done years ago and which will be my salvation in the future if the shit hits the fan again

Length - 10 months
(Mon 6th Apr 2009, 3:57, More)