Profile for EastAnglianswine:
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22. Norwich/Edinburgh. Student.
I'm also giving my MSN address to people who gaz me for it.
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- a member for 15 years, 11 months and 8 days
- has posted 252 messages on the main board
- has posted 466 messages on the talk board
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- has posted 2 stories and 2 replies on question of the week
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Stats:
22. Norwich/Edinburgh. Student.
I'm also giving my MSN address to people who gaz me for it.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Get Rich Quick
A penny spent...
People who meet me now find it very hard to believe that as a child I was both very fat and extremely stupid (whereas now I am dashingly svelt and a genius).
A 5-year-old me once wandered through the various stalls at my primary school's annual charity bazaar, looking for some new piece of cheap tat from someone else's garage to purchase. Not really understanding money at all I picked up a suitably bright coloured lump of plastic and paid for it with my 50p piece - how amazed was when the nice lady gave me a whole 10p back - to keep!!
Rejoicing at having worked out how the money thing worked I went from stall to stall buying every cupcake, half-scrawled colouring book and and dubiously stained teddy bear I could find. I figured that if I kept giving my money to the assembled teachers and parents, they would continue to hand me money back.
I was baffled when, half an hour later, I had a plastic bag full of landfill and no money.
The evil biddies running the show had decided not to point out my error, thereby making a tramp of me at 5. Capitalist whores.
(Sun 3rd Aug 2008, 17:22, More)
A penny spent...
People who meet me now find it very hard to believe that as a child I was both very fat and extremely stupid (whereas now I am dashingly svelt and a genius).
A 5-year-old me once wandered through the various stalls at my primary school's annual charity bazaar, looking for some new piece of cheap tat from someone else's garage to purchase. Not really understanding money at all I picked up a suitably bright coloured lump of plastic and paid for it with my 50p piece - how amazed was when the nice lady gave me a whole 10p back - to keep!!
Rejoicing at having worked out how the money thing worked I went from stall to stall buying every cupcake, half-scrawled colouring book and and dubiously stained teddy bear I could find. I figured that if I kept giving my money to the assembled teachers and parents, they would continue to hand me money back.
I was baffled when, half an hour later, I had a plastic bag full of landfill and no money.
The evil biddies running the show had decided not to point out my error, thereby making a tramp of me at 5. Capitalist whores.
(Sun 3rd Aug 2008, 17:22, More)
» Vomit Pt2
Back of a bus, aged 10.
No, I'm not talking about the loss of my anal virginity, but the worst vomit ever. The vomit itself wasn't so bad - it was mostly liquid and the American mustard I'd had on the offending hot dog lent it a delightful neon yellow shade - but the timing, direction and control made it quite spectacular. I vividly remember the initial spurt nearly missing the respective left and right shoulders of the people in front; the second heave landing in the aisle but not cutting off in time to spare my jeans; the third, which I decided for some reason to put into my hand, thought better of, and dropped (long strings of saliva now connecting mouth to hand and thence to floor); and last wretch slapping off the edge of my seat.
The bus was on its way downhill at this point, so the stream quickly splashed its way over the step and pretty much all the way up to the driver's seat, running between the chairs of my fellow passangers.
A dog gave it a taste. People tutted and sighed at my mother. Vomit-flavoured steam rose in the cold winter air. The bus had to be decommissioned and replaced at the next stop, which was all well and good, but nobody up the back was able to get off without walking straight through my puke.
BONUS TIP: If you think you're about to be sick, guzzle down some cold cola. Not only will this trigger it and get the ball rolling, but it tastes ace on the way back up.
(Tue 12th Jan 2010, 18:52, More)
Back of a bus, aged 10.
No, I'm not talking about the loss of my anal virginity, but the worst vomit ever. The vomit itself wasn't so bad - it was mostly liquid and the American mustard I'd had on the offending hot dog lent it a delightful neon yellow shade - but the timing, direction and control made it quite spectacular. I vividly remember the initial spurt nearly missing the respective left and right shoulders of the people in front; the second heave landing in the aisle but not cutting off in time to spare my jeans; the third, which I decided for some reason to put into my hand, thought better of, and dropped (long strings of saliva now connecting mouth to hand and thence to floor); and last wretch slapping off the edge of my seat.
The bus was on its way downhill at this point, so the stream quickly splashed its way over the step and pretty much all the way up to the driver's seat, running between the chairs of my fellow passangers.
A dog gave it a taste. People tutted and sighed at my mother. Vomit-flavoured steam rose in the cold winter air. The bus had to be decommissioned and replaced at the next stop, which was all well and good, but nobody up the back was able to get off without walking straight through my puke.
BONUS TIP: If you think you're about to be sick, guzzle down some cold cola. Not only will this trigger it and get the ball rolling, but it tastes ace on the way back up.
(Tue 12th Jan 2010, 18:52, More)