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43 44 45 year old underachiever....and I like to make things.

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» The Great Outdoors

Phosphorescent plankton
I go camping every year on my own in Greece. By far my most memorable moment is the time I had diarrhoea for three days during a sweltering 35 degree heat wave. There hadn’t been a breath of wind for days and sleeping in a small nylon tent was becoming unbearably hot so I thought I would go and sleep on the beach where it was cooler.
I was feeling very ill but I took my sheet down to the beach and lay looking at the stars. I saw over 5 shooting stars during the next few hours and then soaked with sweat decided to go for a nuddy dip in the sea at 4am. As I stood in the water feeling sorry for myself I swept my arms through the sea and it was like running my hand through big chunks of glitter suspended in water. The lack of wind, heat and stillness of the water had allowed the phosphorescent plankton to develop. It only flashed light when it was agitated and looked like a beautiful green electric current in water. It was absolutely amazing and I was almost thankful I was ill as I would never have seen it if I hadn’t gone down to the water at night.

And then I had an explosive bowel movement and shot a stream of fetid runny shit into the sea and probably killed it all.

Swim! Swim away!

Mother Nature got her own back however as once back on dry land I drifted off to sleep on the beach and learned why no one sleeps on the beach; I woke in the early morning just as the sun is rising, soaked with dew and eaten to death by mosquito bites....
(Sun 1st Apr 2012, 16:21, More)

» The B3TA Confessional

Does a bear shit in the woods
Oh God the Shame. whyohwhyohwhyohwhy do I become uncontrollable when drunk? I have moderated my drinking a lot over the last few years but not after a number of shamefull experiences. These take place over about 5 years:

I got drunk on Tequila at a work's christmas party. My last memory is getting my cock out in order to convince the work's lesbian that she could go straight. (had to work next day and threw up fluorescent green vomit on the tube)(then had to go to work..I teach!!)

I collapsed, drunk, on Brixton rail station platform at 1am and after a wee snooze thought it would be a good idea to ring 999 to ask them how to get home. Luckely, I then staggered off to the bus stop and got there in time to witness a police car scream round the corner and 2 burly lads race up to the platform. How they never spotted me I dont know..Phew!

Had sexual relations with a relation when drunk...bad..shameful...not going into it..

Collapsed AGAIN on a train station, WITH MY HEAD HANGING OVER THE EDGE OF THE PLATFORM! Again managed to stagger off to a taxi rank before being caught. (it cost me £40 in taxi fare to get home that night!)

Slept all night in the doorway of a bank in the City of London. Woke at dawn. Staggered to Embankment Station (saw a couple fucking in an alley: that was nice) On the way to the station I needed a shit so I had to crap in the bushes on the South Bank. Felt bad man.

The Final Straw: propositioned a Taxi driver. Asked if he'd like a blowjob instead of the fare (I'm Gay). He said 'No', he'd still have to charge. I asked if he'd like the BJ anyway!..He said ok!! (I lost my wallet on the floor of the taxi)(Lost over £100)(...plus any shred of dignity I had left)...God I'm a Slut!

NEVER AGAIN!
(Thu 26th Aug 2010, 18:58, More)

» Protest!

ßooßies
It's the late 80's. I'm at art college and we've all taken the day off to go on a march protesting cuts to university funding (of all things). We are marching through the home village of some Tory politician.

To make things more lively we dress in costumes borrowed from the theatre department store. I am in a giant Hair Bear Bunch suit complete with platform shoes, giant fuzzy wig and sparkly glasses. Louis the IV is there, as is Marie Antionette.

We stop for a little rest; my feet are hurting and Marie needs to adjust her wig. There's a fire engine parked next to us with a bunch of lads up in the cabin munching on sandwiches and drinking tea.

"Hello", says Marie Antionette. "what are your views on the proposed cuts to student funding?"

"Dunno Luv, but we can see right down the front of your dress"
"Yer, Nice tits"!

"Nasty rough men", simpers Louis and we all totter off feeling rather silly.
(Sat 13th Nov 2010, 8:30, More)

» "You're doing it wrong"

sex education
I was 10. One afternoon a week at school the class had to go to a special room to watch those black and white sex education films. Young Spit had a trumpet lesson at the same time so I had to join the class afterwards. I would only get about half the sex lesson but I pretty much managed to keep up. I knew where babies came from and knew that eventually I would get very hairy.
Then one afternoon the lesson came to menstruation. After trumpet lesson I sneaked into the darkened room and learned that once a month the uterus lining broke down and was expelled from the body in the form of blood.
Unfortunately I missed where this blood was actually expelled. Being of an intelligent and scientific bent I thought long and hard about this and finally came up with the most logical explanation.

Once a month, during menstruation, blood would seep from every pore of a womans skin.

I was about 16 before I discovered the horrific truth.

(first post, please be gentle with me)
(Thu 15th Jul 2010, 21:32, More)

» Dad stories

My dad the nutter
You know what makes me sad? All these stories from you lot about how great your dads are.

My dad destroyed 3 peoples childhood and affected us in such a way as to affect myself, my 2 siblings and my mum for the rest of our lives.

He is a hyper-intelligent scientist...and alcoholic. He doesn't really accept that he is an alcoholic but I remember he told us when I was about 7 that he was going to start making his own homebrew and that we were going to help him..and he's been drunk every evening since then for going on 37 years.

He demands things are done in certain ways and he'd go off on one if there was any mess. If we had an event at school or cub scouts that involved a change to our routine he'd point blank say no and we couldn't do it. To travel anywhere took weeks of planning and foul temper or if mum or I tried to decorate or change anything in the house he'd scream about the mess for days. We couldnt have toys or stuff around the home; it all had to be hidden away. My mum tells a story about when I was three I tipped over a pot of ink and my dad picked me up and rubbed my face in it and my face was blue for weeks.

He doesn't like going out to eat..infact he doesn't like food at all.
He's very thin and only eats 'nutritionally balanced food'. Mum has to cut it up because he wont use a knife.

He gets nasty drunk. He screams at the TV and at anyone who disagrees with him. He gets violent when he is drunk so for 13 years until I left home at 18 we'd lie in bed at night listening to him lay into my mum. We'd hide from him in the evenings but he'd force us to sit with him while he screamed at us and told us what little cunts we were. I wont bore you by going into the detail of every controlling, violent episode that we endured (actually I don't think I want to remember them properly)but growing up in that house was awful.

I've been away from home now for 20 odd years and 4 years ago I started to work in a college and mentored a student with aspergers syndrome. I had a bit of training and as I learned more I began to realise certain traits...

I really do think he has some form of aspergers. He himself had a tricky childhood with his mum dying during childbirth and had a number of aunties who reared him...how difficult would that be for someone with aspergers to move from household to household?

I asked mum to fill in a facebook 'how aspergers are you?' app. on his behalf..he got full marks!

So, now what do I do? Do I forgive and forget the hell that was our childhood? Do I bring this all up and see if he can change? (actually I don't think there's any point as now that we have all left home and he lives a quiet life of routine and meditation with mum he keeps himself to himself and is much better...until anyone comes home to visit and then he'll usually have some sort of drunken shouting episode at 1am)

So I'm gay, my sister doesnt want kids and my brother left home and barely has any contact with any of us...he has no kids either.

Coicidence?

I am sooooo jealous of you guys who can hug and chat to your dads and who had a great time growing up. Writing THAT sentence has made my eyes prick with wateryness.

length? 18 years of hell.

edit: OR? Am I just griping? On the scale of things am I lucky to have grown up in a middle class home and our troubles are no worse than those that everyone else has to put up with?
(Fri 26th Nov 2010, 7:25, More)
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