I'm not chompy

( SteveFrench Cardio is for homo's. do you even lift bro?, Fri 13 Aug 2010, 0:04, 3 replies)

All The Lies Are Still In Control, Thank You
In the late 90's, the girl friend moved in. In 2003, I broke up, and tried to kick her out, but seeing how she had no real prospects, countrymen, relatives, income, or friends, I took mercy and let her stay in the house.

It is convenient for her to tell her co-workers and friends we are fiancees. So, on those rare occasions when I see them, they ask when the big day is going to be. I feign deafness.

She tells her current boyfriend that I am her 'brother'. It's a convenient fiction (we don't look at all alike) and he doesn't ask questions. Probably has his own skeletons.

I don't know what she tells her creditors and the government. Probably something less than the full truth.

The whole house of cards could crumble anytime, but I don't care. Fiction is ever so more pleasant than truth. And no one would believe the truth anyway.
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Fri 13 Aug 2010, 0:01, 1 reply)

A friend of mine's an accomplished blagger
One night in a hot and loud night club, I see him approach two red hot girls, initiate the full smarm with a view to a double date type situation no doubt. I hung back for a moment as I couldn't really be arsed and I knew all his lines.... so I thought.

But this time he gave me a real hospital ball.

One of the girls then breaks away from the trio, sashays over to me, cranes in above the din and shouts into my ear: "So how long have you been a film cameraman then?" I'm not, never have been, no desire to be, and had not, nor never have, arranged this cover story with my mate before. Dunno why he thought 'delivery driver' wouldn't produce the knicker drop?

Cheers Jason!
(Mind Forged Manacles Me nice to society, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 23:53, 2 replies)

Pirate
I'd been dying my hair black since I was 13 so by the time I got to year 11 I was used to people asking me if I was a "Goff" to which I'd just reply
"No I'm FootOfTim"
However out of the new intake of year 7's there were a group who were a bit annoying. They'd constantly hover around me and a few others asking if we were "Goffs" and stuff like that.

One day I was wearing a black hair band with a skull on it when the little ones approached.
"If you're not a Goff why do you wear that thing with the skull on it?"
Not being able to resist I replied,
"It's cause I'm a pirate yaaaarg!"

They seemed to like this answer because for the rest of the year whenever I walked past one of them, they'd nudge their mate and say
"See her, she's a pirate"
This resulted in me having to answer the register with "YARG!" when my form tutor found out, as he was one of their teachers.
(FootOfTim, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 23:46, 7 replies)

I kinda let one slip...
So I owed some people some money several years back. I couldn't pay up and was told, not very kindly, that I had but one chance to tell them where there money went.
"The Jews."
"What? The Jews? The ones down the corner?"
"Well, no." I didn't wanna get them involved. "THE JEWS." I said. "They run everying, they control all the money, it's secretly been them all along."
I went on to say that they had a secret hierarchy and they had a hidden agenda for everything. I mean I went way the fuck out there. I said they chopped the tips of their kids dicks off, some pretty fucked up shit. Everything I said they bought.

These guys I told, well they published this shit! Called it protocols of somesuch bullshit. I heard Henry Ford refused to hire Jews or sell them his cars bewcause of it. And some german guy tried to kill the lot of them! Can you believe that? Seriously, this guy Adolf, what a name btw, got all pissed at the Jews and it's my fault! I wanna punch that guy in the dick, but he offed himself(I heard it was over some gas bill).
I'm tired of it all, it's not about the money anymore, I'm sorry that I made everyone hate the Jews, it's all my fault. You guys can stop now, I didn't mean any of it. This lie has got to stop. It's gotten way out of hand and is just silly.
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 23:35, Reply)

Language problems
Since moving to Prague in 2006 I've become pretty fluent in Czech - more by sheer perseverance and hard work than being any sort of a cunning linguist. After putting in all this effort I'm reluctant to speak English with Czechs unless there's a particular reason for doing so - for example if someone is a competent English speaker and genuinely wants to practise to improve.

I don't want to appear boastful or arrogant here so will point out that many Czechs do speak very good English and deserve admiration for this. Sometimes though the bizarre situation arises when someone insists on speaking English to me even though they only know ten words and have no grammar. For example, the receptionist at the dentist's who, after I'd explained in (I hope!) correct Czech that the crown had come off my rear left molar and needed replacing, replied "You want speak the English? I speak him very good."

This doesn't happen much now but was not uncommon in the past. Rather than get annoyed, I'd deal with it by saying I was from Finland and that I spoke very little English (I realise that's not a very believable story, given the Scandinavians' linguistic abilities). I was counting on the fact that nobody was likely to know Finnish (of course I don't either). I tried this on one bloke I got talking to in the pub, even going so far as saying how much I loved Sibelius's beautiful country (where I've never been). Cue him rabbiting on incomprehensibly; at first I thought that perhaps my Czech wasn't as good as I took credit for, then it came out that he'd lived several years in Helsinki and spoke Finnish fluently. Exit Eesnahk looking like a complete dickhead.
(eesnahk, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 23:20, 2 replies)

I'm Spartacus.

(Code of Post lives at the moment in time that is..., Thu 12 Aug 2010, 23:03, Reply)

Oh, how we laughed on Off Topic
tinyurl.com/yj6nwf8

Regards,

NOTJohnTheDane/Eds Meds/Edmund or any other incarnation of the same weirdo.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 22:35, 3 replies)

How not to blag entry to a nightclub
One of my best mates regaled us with a pearler from his early twenties. He was trying to get in to a night club with his brother. It was full: one in, one out.

They attempted a sob story: Given that they didn't look that similar, they tried the angle that one was a cousin of the other, over from Germany, and wanted to experience a proper night club in a big city in the UK.

The bouncer took one look at the "cousin", and said: "Speak German does he?". Straight as a flash came the answer.

"Ja, Sheperd's Pie!".
( Claws of Doom I am no longer infected, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 22:33, Reply)

Not the Colonel, but a chum of his when he was a cadet....
....had a lie backfire on him.

I shall not mention the chap's name but it began (and probably still does) with Dave and ends with Hancock.

At the age of about 19, DH went on a boozy weekend trip to Amsterdam. He got separated from his other compatriots and ended up in a dingy bar with a number of Dutch lads. In a slightly inebriated state, they all gelled instantly and more alcohol was drunk. At this point, one cloggy suddenly pointed at Dave and said (with a comedy Dutch accent) "Hey my frent, are you Nick Heyward, famuss singer of de cool pop bant 'Haircut 100????'

Please bear in mind that it was 1980.

Dave, being young, foolish & pissed modestly admitted that he was. Cue the whole bar buying him drinks, arranging young women to do indescribable things to his appendages etc etc. After a couple of hours someone lobbed a couple of guilder in the new fangled video jukebox and put 'Love plus one' on. As Nick Heyward was projected onto the wall at a frightening 600% full size, eyes swung from the young popular music combo singer to the drunken ex Grammar school teenager, and the number was up.

Luckily Dave wasn't so pissed that he couldn't outrun the cloggies, though he did have to make use of a canal to avoid having twenty of Holland's finest taking their frustrations out on his face.

Length? About 100kms according to Wikipedia.
(Colonel Blink is now officially a pretentious prick, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 22:10, 6 replies)

Score: +5, Pathetic
I walted as a former (minor) public schoolboy once. Which turns out to be a mistake when you run into someone who counts head of said school as a family friend. Also, running out of bullshit at just the wrong moment - in front of a lot of people I had to spend the next year with - didn't help.

Then again, I did lie a lot generally. Mainly out of shame, I suspect.

I don't lie anymore.

Much.
(Mr. W. K. Kellogg's Anusol Flakes (TM) is the other Special K, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 22:09, 3 replies)

SmashMonkey just reminded me...I am a terrible person.
A boy I had a fling with last summer told a similar lie. I was suspicious, me being a rather worldy, experienced girl (read: slag) and him being a nice, rather shy catholic boy. So I casually eased it into conversation. He assured me that he was most definitely not a virgin, and when the time came, he would happily take me in a manly fashion, no problem.

Erm, yeah. I was staying over at his one night and things began to get rather steamy. Thinking he had it covered, I let him go for it. It quickly became apparent that he didn't have a bloody clue what he was doing (later confirmed by his previous ex, a friend of mine). I did my best, but as one of my sexual partners has (accurately) described, I'm like a labyrinth down there, so despite firm guiding and planting on my part, the poor lad failed over and over again, and eventually failed himself as well.

Now, I already have a terrible habit of saying or doing the most inappropriate things during sex. I once yelled "VICTORY!" at the point of orgasm, and am a big fan of the post-coital hi-five. His inexperience wasn't helping my impulsiveness. I was riled up and getting nothing, it was getting to the point where I was going to either laugh or cry in desperation. If only he'd told me the truth from the beginning, I would have been much more patient and understanding and the subsequent crushing of his ego would probably never have happened.

I'm not proud of this, but hysertia took over, and I laughed. I laughed so hard, I couldn't breathe. I laughed so hard I fell off the bed, and continued to laugh as I was tangled in a naked sweaty heap on his bedroom floor.

We both apologised profusely in the morning and kissed as my bus pulled up... but I never heard from him again. I can't blame him really, I probably humiliated him to the point of never being able to speak to a girl again. All because of a seemingly harmless little white lie. So, yeah. Don't lie kids. It's not good for your pride, or your cock.
(Applebite Uh! A cow!, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 21:51, 10 replies)

In the musical 'Oklahoma!' there's a scene where a young man says to a girl 'Here's an Oklahoma hello!', grabs her and kisses her passionately.
When I was 14 my mate, my boyfriend and I had seen it and I jokingly told Mate that Boyf had given me just such an Oklahoma Hello.

I expected her to laugh me out of the place, being as I was still quite an innocent virgin, as indeed was the Boyf, and thought we'd have a good giggle together.

Unfortunately, she believed me. She mentioned it, scandalised, at every opportunity and couldn't wait to bump into the Boyf and pull his leg.

It soon went too far for me to admit I'd lied and I had to go along with the story. (I was only 14!)

I was sweating by weekend when I knew Mate'd see Boyf before I did. My family weren't on the phone and I had no way of contacting him to warn him, and anyway what could I say? 'Oh, by the way, I've told Mate that you Oklahoma Hello'd me last Sunday, just play along, there's a good chap!'

Weekend came, Boyf was challenged on his snogging technique and was mystified, Mate came back and derided me.

I tried to pretend Boyf was chivalrously defending my honour, but it didn't wash. My humiliation was complete.

The Boyf and I soon split up, probably because he thought I was a fantasising nutcase and I thought he was a wimp. More sadly, my friendship with the Mate didn't survive the incident, or rather the constant piss-taking I had to put up with afterwards.

30-odd years on, I still feel a strange mixture of embarrassment, regret and amusement, and I miss that friendship to this day.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 21:32, Reply)

i told him i was a virgin
because he told me he was and i didn't want to look like a slapper.
unfortunately, he soon found out i was lying because, even more unfortunately, he was telling the truth :(
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 21:19, 8 replies)

Stars in their eyes
Told some girls in the pub I was going to be on stars in their eyes, George Michael (back before he had come out) no less, almost got me a pull. However they bought it big time and they stayed in together every Sat night to watch me perform on the show, weren't to happy when after the 5th or 6th week Wobbler never appeared thru the smoke filled curtains.
(wobbler, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 21:06, Reply)

Well i started out just by keeping my weights in the cellar
And it kinda spiralled out of control from there!

Regards,

J. Fritzl
(Frample Tromwibbler climbs an obstacle like old people fuck, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 21:00, Reply)

15 odd years ago....
spectularly top end executive jobs were advertised in the back of the Evening Standard rather than in specific sections of poncier papers. One which caught my eye was for something like European Development Manager for South African Airways. Yaawwwwnnnn, I thought, until I saw the salary.

£250,000 p.a.

Plus bonus.

Plus benefits.

A quarter of a million quid a year.

At the time more than 30 times my wage.

"Lovely", thought I, before cracking open a tinny and making a special cigarette. As the night and the tinnies and the bammies rolled on I started to get a brlliant (as they regularly are when you're skittled) idea. I'll apply, making up the most brilliant CV, get the job, do it for as long as I could before they realised I was a complete fraud, then when they frogmarched me out of the office accept pay for however long I'd worked there. I thought that I'd maybe last a month which would have been about 20 grand, although I suspect that my wibbly state probably would have affected my judgement as to how convincing I would have been. Nonetheless, in my addled state a month seemed realistic, so where's me pen, where's me paper, let's go. Maybe more beer and smokes first, why not.

Next morning the evenings events came back in dribs and drabs. Mmmmmm, I'll make a cuppa, the paper.... what was I reading..... errrmmmm..... right, kettle on, cup..... errmm... a job.... what job..... errmmmm..... not sure. Ok, milk..... errmmmm...... planes.... planes? Errmmm....... right, milk..... planes!! Definitely planes.... I think.... right....errmmmmm.....

Eventually I saw it, 3 sheets of hand written nonsense. Lines and lines of rambling bollocks, lists of planes and promises I could fly them, fictional information about airports and stuff about languages I could speak, all of it written like a six year old, no pronunciation but every point separated by an "and". A big chemically enhanced pile of fibs.

I didn't send it off, would you believe, but even now I wonder with a bit of savvy and the right type of approach whether I could have pulled it off and got away with a huge (relative to what I earned) payoff before they slung me out.
(tinypod will never learn. Ever., Thu 12 Aug 2010, 19:59, 9 replies)

I am a bastard
My flatmate at uni in Edinburgh is Lithuanian. He's a great guy who speaks excellent English, albeit with a strong accent and some odd turns of phrase. He's also not afraid to ask about anything he doesn't know about.

Anyway. To the story. We were in the student shop one day, wandering around after a lecture had finished early. Ming (for that is his name) spotted a pair of compasses (circle drawing things) for sale, and asked what they were called. Being who I am, I instantly thought quick, lie. What can I call them? He isn't stupid, it has to be believable. "Oh, that's a spoon" SHIT, why did I say that? He's never going to buy this. "A spoon?" says he, a puzzled look in his eyes. "Yeah" I replied casually quick! Think of a good explanation! Don't fail me now, brain "You see, the original ones were shaped like spoons". He's NEVER going to buy this... He bought it. Hook, line and sinker. I was ill the next day and couldn't go into the practical lab we had scheduled, but apparently he got rather angry when everyone laughed when he asked for a spoon to draw circles with. He was rather more angry when he put two and two together...

Wish I could have seen his face when he realised.


Edit: This is the same flatmate I once convinced that porridge must be kept in a freezer to prevent infestation by "Porridge worms".
( MatJ LOOK, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 19:23, 3 replies)

The Tour Guide
Just before I set off for Africa my little sis got married to a septic. His extended family came over to the UK for the wedding, and the first I knew about this was when I stepped off my plane and she slapped the key to a 16 seater bus in my hand and told to me to entertain them. I’d never played at tour guide before but it turned out to be pretty easy. It started when I got lost in Central London and one of them asked me what some old house was. I didn’t have a clue, but rather than disappoint them I told them it was where the Governor of the Bank of England lived. And that is when it dawned on me – they didn’t have a clue what they were seeing and I could pretty much tell them what I wanted. For the next few days I invented a fantasy city which we shall call strongp’s London. It was a magical place rich in history and adventure, in which every square had a story, every alleyway a murderer. Then I took my coach party of gullible Americans halfway across England in search of fabulous castles once populated by King Arthur, and the occasional Orc. I even told them the story of how when it was being built in London Eye had come off its spindle and rolled a clear mile along the Thames before coming to a stop on the silt of the Thames.

And I’d gave got way with it too if the groom hadn’t shopped me in his speech
(strongp, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 19:19, Reply)

Hell Hath No Fury....
Once upon a time I used to live in a lovely marina apartment overlooking the Mediterranean in Gibraltar. The sun shone every day, the skies were blue and all was good.

Just below my balcony a huge white 30 meter gin palace was moored up. The skipper, who was something of a friend, told me off the record that the boat belonged to a blind trust, but that his real boss was a Mexican who had fled to Spain following the collapse of the Mexican banking system, at which time large amounts of money has disappeared from said Mexican’s family bank just before the creditors moved in. The Spanish authorities had extradited him back to Mexico where he was serving out his time. They probably got a serious bung for that one, but that didn’t stop them trying to confiscate the boat, which just managed to escape into Gibraltar waters ahead of the Spanish coastguard. So there was this huge boat with all the trimmings sitting in a very small country and unable to leave without being seized by the Spanish.

Once a week the skipper used to start her up, and drive half a mile to the other marina for lunch, then head back again. And that was about the extent of it.

About this time an attractive blonde woman decided to pop over for a week to stay with me – just a friend you understand. She’s a woman who enjoys the finer things in life, so I thought she’d enjoy a trip on the boat, and asked the skipper who not only agreed, but suggested that as a practical joke he’d make out it was my boat. This is where things started to go wrong. In the run up to her arrival a few hints were dropped by friends about strongp being a fool wasting his money, and no, they couldn’t elaborate as they had been sworn to secrecy etc etc. Just as things were building up nicely some work shit blew up in London, so on the day my lady friend arrived I met her at the airport, made my apologies, gave her my apartment keys and left her with my driver while I got onto the plane she had just arrived on.

Fast forward through two days of intense work bullshit, and I get back home to find out the whole thing has blown up into some sort of nightmare; after her jolly little cruise nobody told her the truth as planned, so my lady friend has had 48 hours of intense winding up about the boat, and it’s up to me to lay the beast to rest.

I don’t pretend to understand women at all, but as any b3tans of the feminine persuasion will probably understand this had morphed into a BAD THING. It took about three months before she’d even speak to me again, and to this day if I even try to apologise about the whole the affair she turns a strange red colour and starts throwing sharp things at me. Which is a shame as I could have been an excellent practical joke.

Did I mention I could see Africa from my balcony?
(strongp, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 19:00, 2 replies)

Some bloke called tony fell for it
I told my mate that Saddam had WMDs for a laugh...oops
(bluehamster, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 18:13, Reply)

I'm good at writing QOT answ

(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 17:30, Reply)

I was at a party, chatting to a not-unattractive girl...
...and I told her that I was a researcher in advertising, whereas actually I am a fighter pilot and part-time commando/firefighter/award-winning musician/quantity surveyor.

When she found out, she dumped me for being too awesome.
( prince-igor si tacuisses, philosophus mansisses, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 17:28, Reply)

Seeing as I am the ideal weight for my height,
it is unlikely that you porkies will catch up with me.

*may contain one or more lies*
( Bartleby A dead man on vacation, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 17:22, Reply)

I do websites, me
I'd done a couple of static sites and then thought I'd learn how to do dynamic sites with ASP with a MS Access database backend. I created a site that had a search box that brought up results from the database, had a section to add, change and delete records and even a login section.
But, it was all done using the wizards and automated stuff in Dreamweaver, I still didn't know how to code anything except the most basic of stuff.

I then managed to blag a job as a developer by demonstrating the site I had done.

The first few sites I worked on were static, or were updates to basic stuff rather than any serious behind the scenes programming. But sometimes, I had to code something. I mainly fudged my way through using a combination of the Dreamweaver wizards, asking for help from the senior developer and asking questions on forums such as Webthang
I lasted almost three months before I came unstuck and couldn't fix a certain bit of quite simple functionality to do with databases or something. The boss called me in and told me that I wasn't a the developer that either of us thought I was and congratulated me on blagging it for so long. I was given an extra 2 weeks pay and shown the door.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 17:11, 1 reply)

It's quite possible that
God did indeed create the heavens and the earth. Scientists generally agree that matter/time burst forth in the big-bang 14 odd billion years ago. Either that occurred through chance or by design. Both seem to me equally astounding and bizarre. It is alas impossible to ascribe a definitive scientific solution to what is a metaphysical problem.

I think most on b3ta would agree that the God, as sold by the major Abrahamic religions, is the porkie that has and continues to bite us in the arse.
(Happybara The jungle came alive and took him, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 17:08, 57 replies)

surprised it's not been done...
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
(Kip, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 16:57, 10 replies)

securely and helplessly mediocre
My whole life, as seen back in the wild years. All is full of love and culture and kinky little opinions that i was free to peruse or abandon, for minor quirks and sudden tempers. Every day and week and month still good enough to get off my arse and change the world. Or at least show off my enlightened views and amazing potential so that various models come to hoover up drugs from the gleaming bonnet of my Accord.

My whole life after roughly a quarter century. Back in the shit provincial dung pocket i escaped from, after four countries i was happier being. Doing the shitty down market education that was adequate seven years ago, failing it when i once did elite uni stuff. My massive circle of mates reduced to nearly triangular shape, and every day grief for the love i had and lost.

All because i always managed to convince myself "there are no limits"

and now i am behind average, and helpless of even doing their life preserving stuff. that would be so below me.


"Tolerance is supposed to be a temporary attitude, it has to induce recognition. To condone something means insulting it." -Goethe
(funktrash soul = combustion engine, Thu 12 Aug 2010, 16:50, 12 replies)