» When animals attack...

Wet willy
On a day out at the Apenheul (Ape sanctuary) in Holland; all went swimmingly until we got to the section where the capuchin (I think that’s what they were…small and very intelligent anyway) monkeys are allowed to run free. I thought I was well prepared as they provide you with special bags and advise you to empty your pockets etc beforehand as these cheeky chappies are well know for picking pockets/removing earrings/nicking sarnies etc. What I was not expecting was for one to jump onto my shoulder without my knowledge and give me a wet willy! Having a small primate probe your ear canal for yummy earwax with its pre-wetted tiny humanesque finger is a very wierd feeling!
(Tue 7th Jun 2005, 11:46, More)

» Why should you be fired from your job?

Rewarding myself
I had nearly forgotten about the dramatic exit I made from my glittering former career as a Sainsburys petrol station checkout slave.

I was only doing the job to save up to go travelling, and it sucked balls. I was completely bored and had plenty of time to dream up scams and time wasting schemes. This was when Reward points (now nectar) had just come out and you could use them for all sorts of useful things...like paying your food bill, phone bill, restaurant bills and days out - if you had enough of them that is. Which I did, since every single person who didn't present a reward card automatically donated them to the Groovchik fund.

It lasted about 9 months until some top security boffin came down from London to investigate a ‘serious case of fraud’, oops. The management got extremely over excited and got the police to sit in on my exit interview, I was then frogmarched offsite and asked never to return (or apply for a Reward card, snarf). The thing that really, really pissed them off was that they couldn’t prosecute me – I’d done them out of several thousand pounds but at that stage there was no law covering the theft of ‘electronic impulses’. Oh how I laughed, and went to Asia for 6 months.

But I did feel bad about my lovely boss John, who tried to cover for me…what a sweetheart. Sorry John, it was the evillous me.
(Mon 13th Aug 2007, 15:56, More)

» Stupid Tourists

Vietnamnesia
Sitting a bar on Khao San Rd, Bangkok...Overheard an American chick telling her American friends how annoyed she was by little kids when she travelled through Vietnam. They threw stones at her. She was whining on about couldn't understand why they would want to do that. Whine whine whine...

So I helpfully pointed out that perhaps the fact that America bombed the crap out of Vietnam had something to do with it? She replies 'whaddya talking about?' I explained a bit about when it happened etc etc. Cue her getting very shitty with me about us 'mangy Brits always trying to bring America down' and telling me that it can't have happened because they didn't teach her about it in school!

I will never forget her. Imbecile.
(Fri 8th Jul 2005, 12:27, More)

» Terrible Parenting

Religious nutbag
On the rare occasion that I stayed at my (ex)boyfriends parents house, his religious nutbag mum insisted that we slept in separate rooms.

This anti-hanky panky plan might have made some sense if a shortage of beds had not meant that I had to share with his sister. I can only guess that she didn't know then that his sister liked a little lady-love and later woke me up by rummaging in my pants :-0

It wasn't many months later when I was woken up by religious nutbag mum, dragging me out of the house by my hair calling me a 'whore of babylon'...because me and said boyfriend had fallen alseep in front of the tv...with all our clothes on.

She even used to speak in tongues sometimes. Eek.
(Thu 16th Aug 2007, 15:03, More)

» Hidden Treasure

Ships in the night
Moved into a bizarre shared house with a spotty weirdo animator and being the curious person I am decided to investigate the rooms of the house that the landlord had poorly but intentionally locked.

In the cellar, there were copious amounts of jazz mags of the male gay wrestling and fetishy women covered in ketchup and feathers variety, along with a stack of huge dresses with peculiar stripes (spurts?!) of mould on them and a load of size 10 stilettoes.

Upstairs, in what had been the landlords mothers’ room was a very poignant collection of old lady hats, fur coats, some gramaphone records, a polar bear rug and lots of hand knitted floral bouquets.

I never met the landlord, or paid him any rent and I shudder to imagine what kind of household that must have been when they both lived there. Freaky shit. I moved out swiftly.

(Kept the polar bear rug tho’)
(Thu 30th Jun 2005, 16:00, More)