» * PFFT *

Farting under a blast heater
I used to work as a nightclub bouncer, and was renowned for stinking, silent farts. My trademark was to wait until a large queue had built up outside the club, and the box office had a captive audience. I would then fart right under the blast heater about the front door, which would pick it up, bake my sneaky air biscuit and spread it around for the joy and edification of all the punters waiting to get inside, who could not rush off for fear of losing their space in the queue, whilst I stood there laughing my arse off as my colleagues scattered.
(Fri 13th Jul 2007, 18:39, More)

» When were you last really scared?

In a country far, far away...
About ten years ago, I was on a family holiday on Lake Kariba in Zimbabwe. We had chartered a houseboat, and were moored within a national park. I had woken early, and taken a tender boat to the shore to try and get some good pictures on my camera of wildlife or whatever else I could find. It was a warm, sunny day, the birds were singing, the air was fresh and all was right with the world.

Whilst all seemed peaceful and calm, I wandered blissfully along, absorbing the ambience. The path took me past several large grey rocks. I then noticed that the birds had stopped singing. The silence was overwhelming. I slowed my steps, and looked around, snapped out of my reverie.

This was when I realised that the large grey rocks of which I had not taken much notice, were not rocks at all, but in fact were a herd of elephants! They had all gone quiet, and had stopped their browsing, as I had bumbled into the middle of them. Several thoughts crossed my mind at this point; did I spin round and run, or carry on forward, or very slowly walk backwards and away.

The last plan of action seemed to be the best, with the least chance of spooking the herd and getting myself trampled. I slowly backed up, keeping the large grey shapes in my peripheral vision as I kept my eyes forward in a non-threatening manner, and moved back until I was able to turn and walk away with a bit more speed, my heart jack-hammering in my chest.

My camera still hung around my neck, completely forgotten, and I realised afterwards that taking pictures, with the loud mechanism of my motordrive, whilst in the middle of the herd, could have got me stampeded.

Shat myself? Nearly!

First post! Yay for nooby Tuesday!
(Tue 27th Feb 2007, 11:21, More)

» Picky Eaters

Food freak
Girlfriend of a guy I used to work with grassed his weird eating habits out to us, of having to eat his meals from the same big square white plate, with a light directly above the plate, all the food neatly arranged on the plate, but not touching, and a big dollop of mustard and mayonaisse on the side of the plate, even though he would seldom touch the condiments. If any of these rituals were out of place, he would be unable to eat. Freak...
(Mon 5th Mar 2007, 12:24, More)

» Picky Eaters

Boarding school food makes picky eaters
After 11 years of enduring vile boiled vegetables, and the sort of shite institutional meals that accompany them, I am surprised at the amount of food I will still happily eat. I will even eat vegetables, provided they are cooked properly, and not any of the following: boiled cabbage, boiled spinach, boiled broccoli or the Devils own tag-nuts, Brussels Sprouts...

After eating such delights as game stew, complete with shotgun and rifle rounds and an actual deer ear, or chicken-fried liver (liver fried in bread-crumbs to con us into thinking it was schnitzel or similar) or boiled egg curry, or chicken curry that could not have been chicken because there were no wings in it, but instead two different types of leg bones, I now feel rather nauseous just thinking what I have put into my mouth before.

Or other Southern African delicacies like dried spiced raw meat, dried fish, caterpillars and flying ants. Which were all yum!
(Mon 5th Mar 2007, 15:11, More)