When were you last really scared?
We'd been watching the Shining. We were staying in an old church building. In hindsight, taking the shortcut home after midnight, in the mist, through the old graveyard was a bad idea.
I'm not sure what started it, but suddenly all the hairs on my neck had gone up and I was crapping myself. It was almost as bad as when, after a few cups of coffee too many and buzzing on caffeine, I got freaked out by my own reflection in the toilets.
When were you last really scared?
( , Thu 22 Feb 2007, 15:43)
We'd been watching the Shining. We were staying in an old church building. In hindsight, taking the shortcut home after midnight, in the mist, through the old graveyard was a bad idea.
I'm not sure what started it, but suddenly all the hairs on my neck had gone up and I was crapping myself. It was almost as bad as when, after a few cups of coffee too many and buzzing on caffeine, I got freaked out by my own reflection in the toilets.
When were you last really scared?
( , Thu 22 Feb 2007, 15:43)
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Open door
I was going to post this last night when it happened but it was late and I was tired and a little drunk.
I got home from snogging a girl to find my front door wide open. I have to pretty much slam my door to make sure it's closed properly and check it every time I leave, and yet I come home to my flat open to the public. This was pretty scary. Was I about to be bum-raped by a mentalist? Had all my stuff been nicked? What was I going to find? ...
Nothing. No-one was there and my stuff was still where it was. Given that I live in Croydon this is a little comforting.
Before that the last time I was really scared was riding down this on my snowboard. But that's just showing off.
Length? Girth? She wanted it in the street, mate.
( , Thu 1 Mar 2007, 7:29, Reply)
I was going to post this last night when it happened but it was late and I was tired and a little drunk.
I got home from snogging a girl to find my front door wide open. I have to pretty much slam my door to make sure it's closed properly and check it every time I leave, and yet I come home to my flat open to the public. This was pretty scary. Was I about to be bum-raped by a mentalist? Had all my stuff been nicked? What was I going to find? ...
Nothing. No-one was there and my stuff was still where it was. Given that I live in Croydon this is a little comforting.
Before that the last time I was really scared was riding down this on my snowboard. But that's just showing off.
Length? Girth? She wanted it in the street, mate.
( , Thu 1 Mar 2007, 7:29, Reply)
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