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Someone from Australia...
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Someone from Australia...
Recent front page messages:
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Best answers to questions:
» The Worst Journey in the World
Crosscountry
A few years ago I had just finished at a function. Without going into the details, I was left without any form of transportation besides my two pins...
Anyhow, home was approx. 8 km away as the crow flies with some really tough patches right in the middle (which I was totally unaware of at the time). Throughout this story, just bear in mind that I'm in a dress suit and shoes.
I set out, and left town to strike straight across the paddocks for home. All is good going for the first half of the trip, as I put my head down and jog leisurely across people's properties. The ground wasn't too bad either and I could see my house at the top of the foothills to which I was heading.
After coming to the crest of a hill I noticed that the ground seemed to disappear about 400 metres ahead of me. Nonplussed, I proceeded further and came to the top of what at the time seemed to be a monstrous cliff.
Though it was quite overgrown with trees, blackberries, and quite muddy, I managed to get to the bottom without any major mishaps. It was just hella scary. ;)
Next up was a nice flat paddock, though somewhat marshy and wet. Crossing that I noticed a tree line and heard the familiar trickle of running water. Groaning inwardly, I hopped over a fence and came to the creek.
By this time I was getting sick of the whole thing and I couldn't be bothered looking for a better place to cross. The creek was deceptively small in width (probably 8 feet wide, I thought it was 6). Going back to the fence line I prepped for a jump...
It wasn't until I was in the air that I realised I was going to land a foot away from the bank. Instantly my lower half was completely drenched and muddied. Jumping up the steep bank I decided to get home as quick as possible. It was getting very cold!
Little was I to know I was in for one more shock. Literally. Jogging across the next couple of paddocks I came to what seemed to be a very complicated electric fence (I had come across others already but this one seemed to have two extra live wires on either side and jutting out from the fence itself).
Not bearing in mind that I was dripping wet, I hoisted myself up and STOOD on the live wires. The moment my wet dress shoes touched the wire I flung myself up and over with the shock and fell on the ground with my leg trembling from the jolt that had just passed through it.
Getting straight up I headed for the next few barbed wire fences, got through them with no problem, and got on the uphill home stretch (another three Ks of one more tiny creek crossing, two extremely steep hills, and a valley crossing). I got home feeling exhausted, chilled, shocked, and VERY dirty. Nothing a shower didn't fix, though my mother was less than happy with the state of my clothes...
If you don't like the length, don't read it!
(Mon 11th Sep 2006, 2:42, More)
Crosscountry
A few years ago I had just finished at a function. Without going into the details, I was left without any form of transportation besides my two pins...
Anyhow, home was approx. 8 km away as the crow flies with some really tough patches right in the middle (which I was totally unaware of at the time). Throughout this story, just bear in mind that I'm in a dress suit and shoes.
I set out, and left town to strike straight across the paddocks for home. All is good going for the first half of the trip, as I put my head down and jog leisurely across people's properties. The ground wasn't too bad either and I could see my house at the top of the foothills to which I was heading.
After coming to the crest of a hill I noticed that the ground seemed to disappear about 400 metres ahead of me. Nonplussed, I proceeded further and came to the top of what at the time seemed to be a monstrous cliff.
Though it was quite overgrown with trees, blackberries, and quite muddy, I managed to get to the bottom without any major mishaps. It was just hella scary. ;)
Next up was a nice flat paddock, though somewhat marshy and wet. Crossing that I noticed a tree line and heard the familiar trickle of running water. Groaning inwardly, I hopped over a fence and came to the creek.
By this time I was getting sick of the whole thing and I couldn't be bothered looking for a better place to cross. The creek was deceptively small in width (probably 8 feet wide, I thought it was 6). Going back to the fence line I prepped for a jump...
It wasn't until I was in the air that I realised I was going to land a foot away from the bank. Instantly my lower half was completely drenched and muddied. Jumping up the steep bank I decided to get home as quick as possible. It was getting very cold!
Little was I to know I was in for one more shock. Literally. Jogging across the next couple of paddocks I came to what seemed to be a very complicated electric fence (I had come across others already but this one seemed to have two extra live wires on either side and jutting out from the fence itself).
Not bearing in mind that I was dripping wet, I hoisted myself up and STOOD on the live wires. The moment my wet dress shoes touched the wire I flung myself up and over with the shock and fell on the ground with my leg trembling from the jolt that had just passed through it.
Getting straight up I headed for the next few barbed wire fences, got through them with no problem, and got on the uphill home stretch (another three Ks of one more tiny creek crossing, two extremely steep hills, and a valley crossing). I got home feeling exhausted, chilled, shocked, and VERY dirty. Nothing a shower didn't fix, though my mother was less than happy with the state of my clothes...
If you don't like the length, don't read it!
(Mon 11th Sep 2006, 2:42, More)
» When were you last really scared?
Never again...
I started a fire half-way down a hill in the middle of a grassy paddock full of old pine tree stumps. This fire was not started as a result of my being a sort of fire-bug, but merely as a novel way of keeping warm and possibly toasting some marshmallows on. Yeah, open-air camp fires are a thing of legend to me... or mostly, anyway. It was situated under several blackwood trees in a kind of pit with no way of escape, or so I thought.
So anyway, I suddenly realised I had to go back home for some reason, and rather than come back and have to start it all over again, I left it burning merrily. Since it was small I had no thought of it getting into the kindling I had nearby, though this 'kindling' was a full-scale dead pine-tree left over from Christmas and was about as incendiary as a firecracker.
I'm not exactly sure how the fire reached the kindling, and thus the outside world, but when I was back home I began to hear some voices outside calling about a fire downhill! I raced outside, and this is where I really got scared.
Roaring uphill was a huge fire, sending off an even bigger plume of white smoke. It was starting to eat up the paddock towards us, and was starting in on some dead blackberry patches and bracken, which seemed to be even better fire hazards than the pine tree (as I discovered must have been the cause of this later).
I raced around to the shed (my heart was racing even faster) and grabbed the first implement I could find, which was a shovel, and rushed downhill to meet the fire. At first I tried digging a shallow trench by lifting the sod away from the dirt, but this was extremely tough going and to my fevered mind much too slow - as the fire was inexorably getting up to me.
I also noticed it was starting to eat into the neighbor's and likely to attack their house and sheds, so I jumped over there and left the fire to swarm up and around our place, fearing the wrath of our neighbors more than the well-being of our tanks.
If I wasn't scared before, I became even more scared now when I ran up and down the long fence beating out flames that reappeared two seconds later. My hands were becoming blistered yet I kept smashing out the flames. I kept jumping back and forth, trying to stop its onward progress on the south and east flanks, and then noticed (by this time my legs were wobbly, my arms numb, and my entire body physically exhausted) that it was licking down the hill into the neighbor's pines! I worked my way down there on the outskirts of the fire and around that time the blood blisters which had developed on practically the entire surface of both my hands popped, leaving large raw areas of flesh on my hands and blood on the handle of the spade which you can still see, 6 years later.
Around that time I noticed that the fire crews had arrived, dimly through the smoke. I gave up and walked slowly back up the hill, uncertain how to face my family and neighbors...
---------------------
Actually, nothing really drastic happened as a result of the fire, and it actually cleared a paddock which had been needing a bit of a cleanup for years. The innumerable pine stumps smoked for months afterwards, leaving many areas of the ground hot and cavernous (had to watch where you walked). The neighbors seemed to forgive me pretty quickly for giving them a scare too, and my family let it rest after about a year. I can still remember the cold, naked fear I felt when I was facing that fire though. A similar feeling is like falling in a nightmare, though many times worse because it's real...
No question it was a respectable length - you could see the burnt strip from miles away!
(Sun 25th Feb 2007, 10:19, More)
Never again...
I started a fire half-way down a hill in the middle of a grassy paddock full of old pine tree stumps. This fire was not started as a result of my being a sort of fire-bug, but merely as a novel way of keeping warm and possibly toasting some marshmallows on. Yeah, open-air camp fires are a thing of legend to me... or mostly, anyway. It was situated under several blackwood trees in a kind of pit with no way of escape, or so I thought.
So anyway, I suddenly realised I had to go back home for some reason, and rather than come back and have to start it all over again, I left it burning merrily. Since it was small I had no thought of it getting into the kindling I had nearby, though this 'kindling' was a full-scale dead pine-tree left over from Christmas and was about as incendiary as a firecracker.
I'm not exactly sure how the fire reached the kindling, and thus the outside world, but when I was back home I began to hear some voices outside calling about a fire downhill! I raced outside, and this is where I really got scared.
Roaring uphill was a huge fire, sending off an even bigger plume of white smoke. It was starting to eat up the paddock towards us, and was starting in on some dead blackberry patches and bracken, which seemed to be even better fire hazards than the pine tree (as I discovered must have been the cause of this later).
I raced around to the shed (my heart was racing even faster) and grabbed the first implement I could find, which was a shovel, and rushed downhill to meet the fire. At first I tried digging a shallow trench by lifting the sod away from the dirt, but this was extremely tough going and to my fevered mind much too slow - as the fire was inexorably getting up to me.
I also noticed it was starting to eat into the neighbor's and likely to attack their house and sheds, so I jumped over there and left the fire to swarm up and around our place, fearing the wrath of our neighbors more than the well-being of our tanks.
If I wasn't scared before, I became even more scared now when I ran up and down the long fence beating out flames that reappeared two seconds later. My hands were becoming blistered yet I kept smashing out the flames. I kept jumping back and forth, trying to stop its onward progress on the south and east flanks, and then noticed (by this time my legs were wobbly, my arms numb, and my entire body physically exhausted) that it was licking down the hill into the neighbor's pines! I worked my way down there on the outskirts of the fire and around that time the blood blisters which had developed on practically the entire surface of both my hands popped, leaving large raw areas of flesh on my hands and blood on the handle of the spade which you can still see, 6 years later.
Around that time I noticed that the fire crews had arrived, dimly through the smoke. I gave up and walked slowly back up the hill, uncertain how to face my family and neighbors...
---------------------
Actually, nothing really drastic happened as a result of the fire, and it actually cleared a paddock which had been needing a bit of a cleanup for years. The innumerable pine stumps smoked for months afterwards, leaving many areas of the ground hot and cavernous (had to watch where you walked). The neighbors seemed to forgive me pretty quickly for giving them a scare too, and my family let it rest after about a year. I can still remember the cold, naked fear I felt when I was facing that fire though. A similar feeling is like falling in a nightmare, though many times worse because it's real...
No question it was a respectable length - you could see the burnt strip from miles away!
(Sun 25th Feb 2007, 10:19, More)
» Sacked
Tha boss...
works me day in, day out for pittance at a website and computer retailing company. Not only am I expected to code, provide customer service, and deal with smartasses and skinflints, but he expects me to work early in the morning until late at night with nary a break, leaving very little time to do anything on my university correspondence course, socialise, or play music. I've been turning up for work late and browsing the internet on company time (like right now), and even though he knows he doesn't have the balls to fire me. Ha ha!
...then again it's hard to fire yourself. *sigh*
(Mon 27th Feb 2006, 22:11, More)
Tha boss...
works me day in, day out for pittance at a website and computer retailing company. Not only am I expected to code, provide customer service, and deal with smartasses and skinflints, but he expects me to work early in the morning until late at night with nary a break, leaving very little time to do anything on my university correspondence course, socialise, or play music. I've been turning up for work late and browsing the internet on company time (like right now), and even though he knows he doesn't have the balls to fire me. Ha ha!
...then again it's hard to fire yourself. *sigh*
(Mon 27th Feb 2006, 22:11, More)
» Your first cigarette
Gang rights
Growin' up in the big city was tough. Me and my buddies, Dave, Jeff, King, and a few others, we was all sittin' pretty an' runnin' our rackets. Gettin' an honest livin' was alright if you didn' mind bein' poor fo' the rest o' your life.
Rival gangs were always tryin' to muscle in on our territory and often did stuff, stuff they hoped would cave us in. Usual things were shootin' up our mules or scaring away business but it weren't 'till Big Johnny moved in things got ugly.
Big Johnny were a mountain of puss in a molehill of crap. We couldn't touch 'im, an' his boys hurt us pretty bad. I sent King to collect from the laundry owners, protection money y'see, an' didn't hear back from 'im 'til a bag arrived wit' 'im in it. Or some of 'im anyway.
We gave him to the hungry river and watched our frien' swim his last swim. Not bein' overly emotional us boys just watched him go in silence, wonderin' what was in store for us.
A few days later his head arrived in the mail, with a note from Big Johnny sayin' he wanted us gone and to clear out before the rest of us got the same treatment... We knew we were beat, and bein' outside the law as we were, with our modest enterprise an' all, we had no chance. My sister's cousin was runnin' somethin' down in anotha city so we reckoned we'd try there. So that's why, after we packed up and headed out past the river, I gave up some mo' King.
No apologies for length! This one took a lot of delicate craftmanship.
(Tue 25th Mar 2008, 0:29, More)
Gang rights
Growin' up in the big city was tough. Me and my buddies, Dave, Jeff, King, and a few others, we was all sittin' pretty an' runnin' our rackets. Gettin' an honest livin' was alright if you didn' mind bein' poor fo' the rest o' your life.
Rival gangs were always tryin' to muscle in on our territory and often did stuff, stuff they hoped would cave us in. Usual things were shootin' up our mules or scaring away business but it weren't 'till Big Johnny moved in things got ugly.
Big Johnny were a mountain of puss in a molehill of crap. We couldn't touch 'im, an' his boys hurt us pretty bad. I sent King to collect from the laundry owners, protection money y'see, an' didn't hear back from 'im 'til a bag arrived wit' 'im in it. Or some of 'im anyway.
We gave him to the hungry river and watched our frien' swim his last swim. Not bein' overly emotional us boys just watched him go in silence, wonderin' what was in store for us.
A few days later his head arrived in the mail, with a note from Big Johnny sayin' he wanted us gone and to clear out before the rest of us got the same treatment... We knew we were beat, and bein' outside the law as we were, with our modest enterprise an' all, we had no chance. My sister's cousin was runnin' somethin' down in anotha city so we reckoned we'd try there. So that's why, after we packed up and headed out past the river, I gave up some mo' King.
No apologies for length! This one took a lot of delicate craftmanship.
(Tue 25th Mar 2008, 0:29, More)
» Shit Stories: Part Number Two
piles of it
Picture this: a teenager who had body issues. Body issues so bad that he overdid the weight-building majorly. So bad that he completely misunderstood the low weights, high reps mantra of muscle building. It was me...
Being young and naive I overdid it, and after a year or two of getting no results (ectomorphic body structure), I began to feel slightly... stretched in the 'anular' regions.
It didn't help that at that particular point in time I got food poisoning. Liquid acid pouring out your severely hampered rectum from bad pea soup is one of the most soul and ass destroying things to ever happen to a guy.
It went on for what seemed like aeons, possibly due to the fact that I ended up having what seemed like gastroenteritis (it probably was).
The only thing was, this anal hell was only just beginning. For three to four years it continued. Being stoic and uncomfortable with discussing my bowels... OK let's say I was extremely embarrassed, I didn't tell *anybody* what I was going through.
I have no idea how bad the piles were, but they were wretched and caused normal crap to become pencil thin
crap. Painfully. Drawn out. Took 20 excruciating minutes every time.
This wasn't the end, oh no. I became completely withdrawn, refusing to get close to girls because I felt dirty from the piles, and because it was so bad it bled and I had leakage... and because it hurt to stand up or sit down. I was constantly moving around and trying to pretend I was fine...
A few years down the track I had gastro again and this time it was just as bad, though it didn't last very long. I went out to the paddock next door, and just bawled my eyes out. I normally held my tears back but my tabasco drainpipe was too much for me. I didn't want to be inside on the toilet when this happened otherwise people I knew would start asking questions...
This happened so long ago now it feels like a dream. A terrible, waking nightmare that went on and on. I felt as if God was punishing me for all my teenage/human vices (y'know, touching yourself, etc. etc.). It was so bad I desperately tried to control my bowel movements so they wouldn't happen. Terrible, and completely wrong (it just makes it worse), but I didn't know, again out of embarrassment - I thought it might get better, kept hoping that the longer I went without a bowel movement the more my piles had a chance to clear out. But I was oh so very wrong.
I know now that it was probably due to a combination of not drinking enough water, reverse situps, and crunches. Something I have since rectified, and ever since then I've been completely fine.
I can remember the exact moment it didn't feel like the fires of hell were reaching into me from the toilet... when the hounds of satan weren't grabbing hold with all their might (I can go on but you get the point). I remember letting out the most satisfied groan and was instantly transported into the blissful no-pain life of the spoilt haemorrhoid-free human.
No sugar coating this one. I have *NEVER* told anyone about this particular stage of my life (or rather, what was going on behind the scenes, so to speak). It is incredibly personal to me, so yeah, feel privileged. Or disgusted. I don't care :P
Oh, and I no longer have body issues, despite having thinning/receding hair. I just no longer give a crap (pardon the pun).
No apologies for length, though I do apologize for the quality of my story-telling. It's obviously still an emotional subject for me, I guess :(
(Fri 28th Mar 2008, 5:51, More)
piles of it
Picture this: a teenager who had body issues. Body issues so bad that he overdid the weight-building majorly. So bad that he completely misunderstood the low weights, high reps mantra of muscle building. It was me...
Being young and naive I overdid it, and after a year or two of getting no results (ectomorphic body structure), I began to feel slightly... stretched in the 'anular' regions.
It didn't help that at that particular point in time I got food poisoning. Liquid acid pouring out your severely hampered rectum from bad pea soup is one of the most soul and ass destroying things to ever happen to a guy.
It went on for what seemed like aeons, possibly due to the fact that I ended up having what seemed like gastroenteritis (it probably was).
The only thing was, this anal hell was only just beginning. For three to four years it continued. Being stoic and uncomfortable with discussing my bowels... OK let's say I was extremely embarrassed, I didn't tell *anybody* what I was going through.
I have no idea how bad the piles were, but they were wretched and caused normal crap to become pencil thin
crap. Painfully. Drawn out. Took 20 excruciating minutes every time.
This wasn't the end, oh no. I became completely withdrawn, refusing to get close to girls because I felt dirty from the piles, and because it was so bad it bled and I had leakage... and because it hurt to stand up or sit down. I was constantly moving around and trying to pretend I was fine...
A few years down the track I had gastro again and this time it was just as bad, though it didn't last very long. I went out to the paddock next door, and just bawled my eyes out. I normally held my tears back but my tabasco drainpipe was too much for me. I didn't want to be inside on the toilet when this happened otherwise people I knew would start asking questions...
This happened so long ago now it feels like a dream. A terrible, waking nightmare that went on and on. I felt as if God was punishing me for all my teenage/human vices (y'know, touching yourself, etc. etc.). It was so bad I desperately tried to control my bowel movements so they wouldn't happen. Terrible, and completely wrong (it just makes it worse), but I didn't know, again out of embarrassment - I thought it might get better, kept hoping that the longer I went without a bowel movement the more my piles had a chance to clear out. But I was oh so very wrong.
I know now that it was probably due to a combination of not drinking enough water, reverse situps, and crunches. Something I have since rectified, and ever since then I've been completely fine.
I can remember the exact moment it didn't feel like the fires of hell were reaching into me from the toilet... when the hounds of satan weren't grabbing hold with all their might (I can go on but you get the point). I remember letting out the most satisfied groan and was instantly transported into the blissful no-pain life of the spoilt haemorrhoid-free human.
No sugar coating this one. I have *NEVER* told anyone about this particular stage of my life (or rather, what was going on behind the scenes, so to speak). It is incredibly personal to me, so yeah, feel privileged. Or disgusted. I don't care :P
Oh, and I no longer have body issues, despite having thinning/receding hair. I just no longer give a crap (pardon the pun).
No apologies for length, though I do apologize for the quality of my story-telling. It's obviously still an emotional subject for me, I guess :(
(Fri 28th Mar 2008, 5:51, More)