Not funny either
I spent the early years of my life growing up firstly in Inverness, then Glasgow. My parents closest friends there were a lovely couple, Jill and Michael. Wonderful, intelligent people, one a doctor and the other a children's author. They seemed to have everything, a fantastic house, loving friends and family, and were just genuinely amazing people.

I'm one of three sons, and Jill and Michael also had three sons, with each being born at around a similar time to the others. We all spent a considerable amount of time together growing up.

We moved to Manchester when I was around 5 or 6, and the families only saw each other once or twice a year. We usually went back up to Scotland for our summer holidays.

When I was around 15 Jill and Michael's eldest son, Harold, had developed a bit of a drug problem. Starting with cannabis, he was now dependant on it to get through the day. My elder brother had a similar problem, and was showing signs of it.

Harold's problems quickly worsened, and he was arrested for possesion of much more serious drugs, was becoming increasingly violent towards his parents and spent a short time in prison.

My brother was also experimenting with harder drugs and battling depression, whilst keeping up a serious cannabis habit.

The last time my mum saw Jill and Michael, they expressed their worries over their son's use of cannabis, he was experiencing psychotic episodes and in a generally unstable state. He'd been kicked out of the family home for attacking each of them and was unable to function without cannabis.

Harold killed himself a few years ago, shortly after leaving prison. His parents both believe his mental state was largely brought on by his dependance on this 'harmless' drug. My brother continues to be a heavy user, and has struggled with depression since his teens, and his life has never been 'normal'.

My mother's biggest worry is that he'll try something similar, although he's never expressed a desire to.
(gin'll fix it, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 12:46, 9 replies)

Mouse Gestures
Possibly the most useful of the myriad add-ons and extensions for Firefox. For the unfamiliar, this handy little program allows the user to open and close tabs or whole windows, cycle between existing tabs, adjust the zoom and various other little tasks, using a combination of right-clicks, middle-clicks and mouse movements.

The trouble is that I now find I can't browse without it. Every time I've installed Firefox on a computer, I've had to install Mouse Gestures, lest I find myself falling back into the primitive world of gesture-free browsing.

So it's not a dangerous dependence; just an embarrassing one. Because I often find myself at somebody else's computer, who has not the Gestures Of Mouse, and I instinctively go, say, to open a fresh tab. And thus I sit there for a few seconds, frantically right-clicking and twirling the mouse around, looking like a retarded child abandoned by his despondent parents in PC World.
(LongJohnBaldry, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 12:24, 9 replies)

If 'not funny' isn't for you then skip this one
Addiction - you name the vice, I'm probably related to someone who experienced addiction to it. I have a couple of fairly unremarkable ones myself, even one illegal one, but nothing especially threatening in a financial, social or physical sense. Not to the extent that I indulge in any case.

Most notable in my life on this score though is my brother. He was a tearaway knocking around with other tearaways from when we were kids, a lifestyle which saddled him with an on-and-off-but-mostly-on hard drug habit for almost 15 years until related skullduggery landed him in jail for 12 months where he went cold turkey and kicked it. He stayed off the hard stuff for almost another 5 years and never went back to it.

Don't get me wrong here - my brother could be a fucking idiot, but he wasn't a bad person. Not to the level of concentrated malevolence that can be perceived in most chavs in any case. He pulled some shit to get by whilst he was under the habit but never anything violent or harmful to others - he just wasn't the type for hurting people. That his heart remained in the right place whilst his head was walkabout is the reason we stuck by him, despite the fact that our words for him weren't always kind.

Sadly, so long in the habit had not left his system un-fucked and his health was very poor. He was warned by family, friends and doctors alike that he was much more fragile than once he was, but there was hope for some recovery provided he was careful. His personal demons made him short-sighted in his approach to this though, and his health didn't improve. He took to frankly dangerous amounts of alcohol after our Dad died a couple of years ago and this, combined with unforseen problems with prescription medication, relationship issues and harassment from some of the worthless scum he had to call neighbours resulted in him suffering a cardiac arrest that ultimately took his life a few weeks ago. He was 38.

I learned a lot of hard lessons the easy way from my brother's experiences, and wished every day that he could have shared in the insight that he gave me. I still do.

So the long-term legacy of addiction has taken the shine completely off of xmas for me and mine this year, and I for one can't wait just to get it over with. Once it is, I then have to figure out how to handle the next 30-50 years without my big brother - that's a tough one.
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 12:20, 5 replies)

Coats and jackets
Aside from the obligatory liking of alcohol and ciggies, I didn’t think I had anything closely resembling an addiction. And then I realised…

I’m a rare northerner in that I never feel properly dressed without a coat or jacket of some kind. And I have many – Tourette’s reckons that I am to practical (and not so practical) outerwear what Imelda Marcos is to shoes. I was thinking about this last night and realised that I have:

Two full length overcoats; one a lovely leather job, the other a handmade grey job with burgundy lining and lapels. Perfect on windy days for that superhero silhouette as you stride purposefully through the streets, coat billowing around you and upsetting new mums as your coat tails flap in the face of their buggy-seated offspring.

A black velvet jacket that was part of a suit until the trousers and waistcoat *ahem* mysteriously shrank .

Another black velvet jacket (double breasted).

The obligatory denim jacket.

A brown pseudo leather job that looks good but is incredibly hot to wear as it’s actually made of plastic, so I tend to sweat in it. I don’t wear it often.

Another brown jacket that is quite baggy and shapeless, and characterised by a cigarette burn on one sleeve – classy.

A black thin but padded jacket that tends to get a lot of wear when out.

Two fleeces (for practical reasons as I try to do a fair bit of walking), although one is a colour that can only be described as NCB orange.

A waterproof outdoor coat (see above).

A big, fluffy warm winter coat that at the moment is plastered in mud from when I attempted to kick a rugby ball for the dog, and instead ended up flat on my back. Oh how we laughed that day…

A red Nehru style jacket that I haven’t worn since 1997.

A black leather mandarin style jacket that I got in Hong Kong, and appear to have misplaced somewhere – fuck knows where. It’s got a huge rip in it anyway from a drunken argument with a fence post one night.

A cream sheepskin style coat that again hasn’t been worn for ages, mainly because the pockets are a bit rubbish and stuff tends to fall out of them.

And, a very thin three quarter length black jacket that is characterised by many pockets and no lapels that I’ve had since about 1994. Think The Matrix, but a bit shorter.

However, since I’m getting married next year, I want something a bit special. Something different to the standard morning coats traditionally associated with weddings (although I do like morning coats). Something I can keep hold of for years to come. So I thought that this would be nicely inconspicuous down the pub: www.fantasywaistcoats.co.uk/coats_velvet7.shtml

There's probably no hope for me.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 19 Dec 2008, 12:16, 11 replies)

see, this is why I like lurking here...
...or one of the reasons anyway. I've just read the latest page of posts and so far NOBODY has spoken of their Facebook/Myspack etc addiction. Even if they have one.

I am mightily sick of work colleagues coming up to me with the bright light of messianic fervour wibbling away behind their bloodshot sleep-deprived eyes and saying "do you have a Facebook (etc) site? It's just that I can't seem to find you there". They usually don't talk to me for a little while when I mention that I've never actually even visited Facebook, and furthermore can find no reason to think of doing so. I mean, competitive "friendship" gets you going?

Rant done, ta.

And thank y'all for helping to keep b3ta just a touch above the rest of the online world.
(dadadali has hybrid vigour, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 12:14, 2 replies)

Games, games, games...
Think I'm a gamer, FPS or RPG are my demons: Just got to complete them once they're installed. Tried to control myself by restricting time spent but I'd make excuses to myself e.g. If I play one more hour I'll get up early tomorrow and do the stuff that needs doing now.

Once bought WoW and was ready to go until a good friend told me not to be a silly sod. I'd bought it on the premise I only spent an hour a night max and only if I had nothing else that needed doing...

No more games now, not until I'm retired and have time - if I get arthritis I'll be gutted...
(Mmm Zebalicious is wondering..., Fri 19 Dec 2008, 12:14, Reply)

*coughs, prays girlfriends father doesn't read this thread*
Procreation. addiction or excuse. please discuss.

(If it is an addiction they need to get a better cure than Prozac (yes that is the only Type of drug that helps in that area.))
(scummothy 01110000011010000110100101101100, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 12:12, 3 replies)

Women

(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 19 Dec 2008, 12:08, 8 replies)

Tattoos
Specifically those created by the top artists in the world. No, really, that sounds rather wanky but I have had my share of shit and as such I have got all snobby about it. I am currently approaching 50% coverage and should have my full body suit within the next 7 years...
(rampants, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 12:03, 12 replies)

infomercials
every morning, i love it, just can't help myself. my favourites are the ones for proactiv and sheer cover. jessica simpson was just an ordinary girl then suddenly the whole world was watching. a fan came up to her and said "hang on a minute there, love, you've got a bit of toffee crisp stuck to your... HOLY CRAP WHAT IS UP WITH YOUR DAMN FACE?" then she discovered proactive. by removing the top layer of her skin with a combination of acid and sandpaper she discovered that, beneath a complexion like brighton beach after fatboy slim has puked all over it, there lurked a hollywood babe!

even if you don't have a face like a quiche, don't suffer the embarrassment of walking out of the house without a uniform skin tone by using sheer cover. that chick from charmed uses it and without it she looks like gollom. what, you don't believe it? then what about jennifer, a perfectly ordinary, slightly dumpy and boring looking woman who you'll find much easier to relate to. she looks completely normal, doesn't she? but wait, take a wet wipe and lets remove the sheer cover she already has on and we reveal... JESUS, DID SHE GO PAINTBALLING AND GET SHOT IN THE FACE? what, still not convinced? time to bring out the twins. one of them is going to get the sheer cover treatment. let's bring her out and compare her to her sister.... WOW! SHE'S A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT COLOUR! THAT'S AMAZING! QUICK, PAINT THE OTHER ONE YELLOW TOO BEFORE SHE SELF-HARMS. but, before you get your credit card out, no one has made us cry yet. time to bring out the housewife from arkansas who used to kiss her husband goodbye in the morning from behind a sheet, lest he noticed that he'd married fester addams. but now, thanks to sheer cover, she insists on sleeping with the light on.

and all for the price of £29.95, a lifetime subscription and more products than you can dispose of responsibly. i can hardly wait for tomorrow morning.
(threadkiller, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:59, Reply)

Forest.
Back in 1995, the internet was in its infancy and my computer skillz got me poached to develop a Web site for an international business school.

Anyone who's dabbled in coding basic HTML by hand will agree that it's piss easy. Back at the start, even before the TABLE tag existed, coding massive amounts of course materials was laborious, yes, but I could do it with my eyes closed.

Such was the monotonous nature of the work that I started looking for something a interesting to help while away the hours. And that's when I found Forest.

Forest was a 'talker' - a text-based chat system accessed via telnet - a precursor to IRC, ICQ, MSN Messenger etc. It was based in at a university in Sydney, and was very popular worldwide, with hundreds of members on at a time. Multiple channels, your own customisable content... a poor-man's Second Life.

When I found it, I recognised its addictive nature immediately. This should have set the alarm bells ringing, but no. It was the antithesis to my boring workload, and in no time at all I was hooked.

First of all, like any addiction, it was under control. My work was getting done and things were perfectly balanced.

Then I met Miss Relationship Fuckup (name changed, obviously), and things in my personal life took a massive downward turn. My dependence on Forest became entrenched, and I found myself missing deadlines, staying late to catch up but spending hours chatting online. Forest was my escape, my drug, and although I knew it was destroying my career, my work and personal friendships, I couldn't stop.

This carried on for months. I knew my bosses and co-workers suspected something was up. I was moved out of the main office into reception, on my own, which only compounded my isolation and gave me free reign to visit Forest whenever I liked.

When one of my superiors oiled the squeaky hinges on the door to reception, I knew my days on Forest were numbered. Whenever I heard the door open, I'd alt-tab out of telnet back to my work document, concealing the chat in the window behind. This worked well for a long time, until the fateful day someone called me into a meeting room as a distraction, while someone else 'found' the evidence on my computer.

By this time, I was desperate to get caught. I knew I had a massive problem and fortunately, my bosses were incredibly sympathetic. I remember crying heavily with relief when they took me aside to talk to me, and they made me visit a doctor and talk to him about the problem and get me some therapy to exorcise my demons.

The doctor laughed at me. He fucking laughed at me. I don't think I've ever wanted to murder someone to death as much as I did at that moment.

But with help, some therapy and unending support from my employers, I came through.

Didn't stop me relapsing though, oh no. ICQ, then IRC, then email, then back to Forest, AlexMUD... weed, booze, tobacco... all completely hooked.

Fortunately, now I've beaten my headmess most of those temptations have become old. Now, b3ta, Zelda games and wanking are my only compulsions.

*waves to Jason the lurker* :)
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:49, Reply)

addikt by name.. addikt by nature.
Throughout my life I've been addicted to one thing or another, but thinking about it from a different perspective I've actually always been addicted to insobriety in some form. Whether it be smoking dope, drinking myself stupid or taking allsorts of mind bending chemicals to get completely out of my face. The worst point was when I'd just got a £2000 credit card, drew the lot out and bought about 3 ounces of cocaine, which lasted me just under a week, and I'm _still_ paying the fucking thing off now after 3 years. I'm clean now though, with the aid of cognitive behavioural therapy. I just drink and smoke like there's no tomorrow. Fuck it.
(addikt, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:48, 2 replies)

I can stop anytime... right?
Right, well I don't smoke or drink or do recreational or prescription drugs, but I do have a story of consumption that amazed my college mates at the time (quite a few years ago, this was).

I love Coca Cola. I like the flavour, but not the fact I can't sleep at night now if I have one after about 6pm. But back in my College days, it was "Anytime is time for Coke".

I didn't really think about it consciously, but I always had a couple of bottles on hand in the fridge. When recycling came to town in the mid '80's in Brisbane, I started putting the empty PET bottles behind the huge old stove in our share house kitchen. One day, one of my housemates said "Holy shit, Shazz, there are a lot of bottles back there" so we decided to pull them out and tally up the Coke I'd drunk in the last six months.

It turned out to be about 360litres or so. Consumed in less than 6 months. And most of these empty bottles were the big-arse 3 litre "Thirst Tanker" ones.

That didn't even take into account the cans I consumed at College (at least two a day), the Cokes I had every time I went to McDonalds (at least three times a week) or the ones I drank at friends' places and parties.

My mate told me I was obviously addicted to Coke. I said "Nah, I can quit anytime!", so she challenged me to go without for a week. I called her bluff, and volunteered to go without consuming Coca Cola for a month. I stuck to it too, with no apparent ill effects, which honestly surprised me.

When the month was up, I felt vindicated. Couple of days later, I went to maccas, and had a Coke with my meal. Within ten minutes, my lips had swelled up like the lovechild of Mick Jagger and Angelina Jolie.

From that point on, I never had that reaction again, though I continued to drink the black gold, but in lesser quantities. My body must have been screaming "ARE YOU STUPID?" but I just re-started drinking it again. Matter of fact, I have one right next to me now.
( Shazzoir Old enough to know better young enough not to care, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:46, 5 replies)

inter-office team meeting
with work one year, there were about 40 of us sitting along a giant table. we were from 3 different offices and some of us hadn't met before. so the boss thought it would be a great icebreaker if we all stood up and introduced ourselves.

which was fine, until it got to one guy, who stood up, held his waterglass in the air, and announced, "Hi, my name's Phil and I'm an alcoholic."

most of us thought it was hilarious, but the boss didn't. poor disciplined phil. i've never yet had the guts to try this in a work scenario!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:27, 8 replies)

My wife threatend to cut my balls off
if I didn't quit smoking.

Being a 30 a day addict I didn't quit. I smoked secretly or at work and invested in a chewing gum supply.

One day she came home early and found me in the garden smoking.

She went back in to the house and returned holding a large knife and a look of pure sadistic evil.

I have never so much as touched a cigarette since.

Length? 10 months smoke free and counting.
( Peej, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:25, 2 replies)

After a couple of throwaway comments...
...I am going to be serious for a minute.

I have problems with alcohol.

I pretty much shouldn't drink anymore.

I'm not like Andy Fordham (The darts player who has been told he will die if he drinks again) or Jimmy Greaves (who used to have a bottle of vodka next to his bed to so he had something to help him wake up in the morning)or Tony Adams (who drunk so much guiness that he shat himself in a pub).

But, yeah, I have been pretty bad. After Miami Actress (two QOTW's ago) I kind of straigthened up.

But I still have my moments. (getting drunk BEFORE I turned up to that first B3ta bash that I came to was one of them. I am very sorry about that.)

I can go weeks and weeks without drinking these days, but when I do start...ouch.

Getting told that you are too drunk to be on the London Underground at Oxford Circus, then trying to sneak back in and being shouted at across the station and sent back out by the same guard...

...well, it makes a funny story to tell in the pub.

But, really?

Not that funny.

Edit: I wrote this before I read this: www.b3ta.com/questions/addicted/post333332

Go there, read that and click it. I have even forgiven the way he spelt exacerbated*. (it doesn't have a double S!)

*I bet I have spelt that wrong now...
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:23, Reply)

Fun and Games!
I am addicted to games. I am certainly not a gamer, don't know how to play that many, and absolutely HATE shoot-em-up games* (I nearly broke the PS3 when playing Drake's Fortune, out of sheer frustration).

However: put me in front of an easy platformer (Lego Starwars/Indy/Batman, any of the Ratchet and Clank) and you simply won't see me for a few days. I'm obsessed with collecting every single coin possible, buying every extra, and collecting every character. I get tetchy if I'm stuck speaking to a boring person, as I'm thinking "why am I at this party? I could be playing Lego Batman!"

At work, it's worse. I'm addicted to online point-and-click/room escape games. Love the buggers. I try to confine myself to my lunch hour, but I'm starting to play earlier and finishing later every day.

I'm going to buy Prince of Persia after Christmas. I'm sure that's a bad idea.


*I like watching people play them though. Watching Mr the Emperor playing Drake/Biosphere etc is really entertaining. I love the look of the games, when they're richly detailed and well-designed.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:19, 5 replies)

My name is Turtles Head and I am addicted to food
There, that's said it, I feel better now.

In my defense, I have been on prescribed steroids for the last few months, and a side effect of them is that I am constantly hungry. No matter what or how much I eat, I never feel full. Anything is fair game, we have had to buy 3 selection boxes for my niece as I ate the first two.

Virtually every waking moment is spent wondering what I can eat. A typical example of thoughts in my head upon waking up 'Oh God I'm starving...oooh I can see my wifes boobs....they remind me of eggs....mmmmm eggs and bacon, I'm starving...I wonder if she will let me touch them.....ooooh melons....I wonder if we have got any fruit.....I could murder an apple..... mmmm apple pie, I'm starving' etc etc all day long.

Today I reached a new low.

I was downstairs and noticed that one of the advent calendars had not been opened for the last two days. So I opened the windows and thought 'Saffy will never know, she's only 4, who will she tell'.

So I ate the chocolates.

Except they weren't ordinary chocolates, they were special dietary ones specifically made for Saffy.

Saffy is our Weimeraner. It was an advent calendar for dogs.

This morning I was so hungry I ate dog chocolate.
(turtles head is touching cloth poked a dwarf on the forehead at, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:18, 6 replies)

Oxygen
Can't get enough of it.

If I don't get my fix, after 45 seconds I start to gasp and turn blue.

Heroin withdrawal symptoms? Pah!

I'm also quite partial to water and heat.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:12, 2 replies)

Warning!
Long, very unfunny post ahead.

Several years ago, I began to have troubles with depression. Whilst I was at University I was (mostly) able to stay on top of it, but after I graduated I plunged head-first into full on despair.

I was not really equiped or ready to deal with it, so I did what many a depressed person before me has done, and heavily self-medicated (or, to put it in real terms, drank myself into oblivion at every given oppertunity). This was exasserbated by the fact that I worked in an off-licence (or liquor store, depending on your nationality).

I became very adept at hiding what I was doing. I would travel from pub to pub, only having one or two drinks in each one. I would always have a book, so that I wouldn't just be sitting there (I also had a notebook, and some of what I wrote in there simply terrifies me). I was spending hundreds of pounds - pounds I couldn't afford - a month on booze, and managed to max out my credit card (they actually reduced my limit because I wasn't able to pay it off). I would miss rent payments, bills, everything, because I had spent all my money on liquid death.

I also became very good at stealing from work. I probably averaged one or two stolen bottles a week, and it was never pinned on me.

What I did during this period, I simply do not know. Whole months of my memory are missing, as I would wake up hungover - usually in my clothes - at one or two in the afternoon and head off to work, have a couple of drinks there (yup, couldn't even last a couple of hours), then when I closed head off to the nearest boozer. There are people who know me from this period - I have no idea who they are. There are people who hate me for crimes against them I have no memory of committing. I alienated friends by repeatedly phoning at 3am, and then making no sense as I slurred gibberish over and over. If I was working a morning shift, it was about a 50/50 chance that I would sleep in and not open the shop. It's a miracle I wasn't fired.

Oh, and it made me physically disgusting - not washing, not washing my rather long and very greasy hair, not brushing my teeth, pissing myself, shitting myself once or twice.

This lasted about a year.

Then, one evening that I recall surprisingly clearly, I found myself on a rooftop, and the only reason I didn't jump off was that it was not high enough to finish me off.

That memory terrified me in the morning, so I called my doctor (three years later than I should have) and began the long process of straightening myself out.

Which I have, more or less. I am no longer in therapy, no longer on medication. I am still, however, in a serious pile of financial poo.

I don't drink nearly so much as I did, now. However, I still drink a lot, lot more than I should. Every now and then it just digs away in the back of my mind - smokers will recognise the urge, the desperate need, and nothing will put it off, nothing at all. I still give in sometimes, and buy myself a bottle or two of wine when I am in the house alone. I have to watch myself when I am out socially, as I am pathalogically unable to just have one or two. Once I've started, if I am not incredibly careful, I will be bounding for the finish line like Sebastian Coe.

It says something about me that I no longer notice hangovers, unless they are killer, in which case I may just moan once or twice.

I am trying. I am really trying to stop this. I am getting better at it, gradually. I think, in particular, health concerns are the biggest factor. But it's always there, the unceasing voice in the back of my head: "Go on, you know you'll like it. You'll feel better. Just one, to relax you. Go on..."

I don't know if it's ever going to leave, and that scares me to death.
(HarryTheMole whatever's on my finger is going in your mouth, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:07, 10 replies)

Almost forgot
Forget the usual. There is an addiction I have that consumes me.

It starts to interfere with my life, I am totally in its grip, it could end up costing me friends, it causes those friends to look at me with disdain (and in some cases, contempt) I am powerless to resist its force.

Pedantry.

Something in my brain compels me to correct others.
(Worthless wishes he had the brains of a pigeon, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:03, 10 replies)

Totally unoriginal...
...but this has always been one of my favourite jokes/quotes:

"Alcoholism is a disease, but it's the only disease you can get yelled at for having. 'Dammit Otto, you're an alcoholic", "Dammit Otto, you have Lupus'...

...One of those two just doesn't sound right"


From the late and very, very much missed Mitch Hedberg.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:00, 4 replies)

According to my spreadsheet
Since August, I've placed bets to the value of £34k.

Returns are £37.5k, though. Damn that post about matched betting on here.
( shadyron, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 10:52, 3 replies)

I haven't read any other stories yet
so apologies if any one has already been this geeky.

The other month, I spent £150+ on comics (as I think I mentioned Off Topic at the time).

I realised that there are probably better ways to spend around 10% of my income.

So I vowed to stop buying most of the comics that I buy.

But I still wanted to buy a handfull of them.

Last month I went to Mega City Comics in Camden to get the four that I still planned on getting.

I spent £217 and could barely carry my swag home.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 10:52, 1 reply)

Addicted to b3ta
That's what you wanted to hear wasn't it?
Had two random b3tans come up to me in the apple shop at lakeside as I was guffawing at the frontpage. There's alot of us about.
(catbrain likes the hairy scratchings bestest, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 10:48, 5 replies)

Flossing
I love flossing my teeth. The ritual of settling down on the end of my bed and flossing while I reflect on the days events is something I do every day. I usually have about 3 reels of floss in my house at any one time because I hate to run out. I think the most I've had is 5 where I I went on a bit of a panic buy.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 10:42, 1 reply)

Salty handshakes
A co-worker's old boyfriend used to be so fond of getting wanky that he'd sneak off to the toilets at work a couple of times a day to do an unusually-coloured wee.

That seems excessive. Work isn't sexy.
(teebie jeebie, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 10:41, 2 replies)

Coca-Cola
Seriously. I don't drink coffee or tea so I think it's the combined caffeine and sugar rush.

I usually get through three or four cans a day, at uni it was far worse - two or three 3 litre bottles a week.

When we go out drinking I go for JD and coke and I sometimes wonder which ingredient I'm buying it for.

When I don't drink it I get unfocused and fidgety - I've been known to make excuses to walk to the shops just so I can grab a bottle 'since I'm there'.

I recently decided not to allow it in the house, unfortunately my new job has a fridge stacked full of free cans of the stuff.
( chenobble rocking his explorer beard on, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 10:37, 3 replies)

I thought I was addicted to sex
But I haven't had it for a month and the withdrawal symptoms aren't nearly as bad as I thought they'd be. A shaky hand every now and again, but that's about it.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 10:32, 1 reply)

Comics and a horrible girl.
In the last year I have spent at LEAST £300. Love it though.

Was addicted to the love of my life once. Thankfuckily I'm only 20, eh?
(DeactivateThisDisaster No., Fri 19 Dec 2008, 10:27, Reply)