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- a member for 15 years, 10 months and 20 days
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» My most gullible moment
Chas 'n' Dave
One night at a local boozer, myself and a few friends were lucky enough to find ourselves watching Chas and Dave live. It was a great night and much alcohol was consumed. So much so, that I ended up pulling quite a hefty lady. We didn't go any further than a bit of public tongue tomfoolery, but I do recall that her hands were the most sweaty hands I have ever encountered.
Anyway, short story long. I got her number and upon arrived home ended up calling and talking to her at the request of one of my mates. I vaguely recall the conversation, and the feeling that I will regret it in the morning.
Morning comes along, and while nursing a sore head snippets of the previous night came back to me. While in my drunken haze my recollection of the girl was that she was very pretty. In the cold hard light of day, I remember she was, in fact, a bit of a mutant. So after a few minutes of sitting and chatting with my friends, my phone beeps with a text message saying "Who is this?". This led to confusion until a mate told me while I was in the toilet he texted this "girl" from my phone. I can't remember the words of that particular text, but before I could reply I was pinned down and a further text was sent from my phone saying "It's Jboy from last night. We shared a romantic dance and kiss to 'Under the Boardwalk'".
So she replies. It was apparently prefect and she would love to see me again. Yada yada yada, no intention of calling her lest she eat me.
We got to a barbeque at a friends house that day. On the way my phone beeps with a text from a number I don't recognise. It claims to be from a mate of hers that was out with her the previous night asking if I was going to see her again as she has a bad time with men and gets down about it. I don't reply.
I get another text. And another. And on and on it goes. "You're not replying. Does that mean you won't see her? She really needs this, she has been treated like shit by men. She thought you might be different". "I know she is big, but she turned to comfort eating when her parents were killed in a car accident a few years back".
Being spineless, I decided not to reply but the messages kept coming in thick and fast. And got odder and odder. I was quite taken at the time by the porn star Cytherea, and was getting messages about how this girl can squirt like her. I didn't remember telling her about that, but it may have been possible.
After a while at the BBQ the messages got closer to psychopathic. She recalled my address from the previous night from what I could tell, and told me that my car (of which she told me the make, model and colour) looked nice when she got there, but now looks better with white paint all over the sun roof. And she likes the look of my house, and the cat in the window, but she wouldn't have painted the front door blue. By this time I was freaking out. I always wanted a stalker, but one that took the time to stalk and didn't go rushing in to the whole mental part of it.
By now, you have probably all guessed what I didn't at the time. It was my best mate/housemate texting me from his work mobile (of which I didn't have the number) pretending to be this girl. EVERYONE else at the BBQ knew about this. At one point, he was sat opposite texting me. Looking at the phone which he held under the table. And I thought he was falling asleep so told him to wake up and didn't even click that my phone beeped not two seconds later. Another mate at the BBQ (obviously in on it) offered to tell her to fuck off for me. He got "her" number off me and texted her saying to leave me alone. My other mates phone beeped just after he sent the text. I never even twigged.
I would love to call him a cunt for that, but I believe that honour belongs to me for falling for it. The only thing I can take solace in is that it cost him a fortune as he probably sent me at least 30 messages that day. I wanted to hurt him, but I felt it was my own fault for being such a plum.
(Mon 25th Aug 2008, 1:10, More)
Chas 'n' Dave
One night at a local boozer, myself and a few friends were lucky enough to find ourselves watching Chas and Dave live. It was a great night and much alcohol was consumed. So much so, that I ended up pulling quite a hefty lady. We didn't go any further than a bit of public tongue tomfoolery, but I do recall that her hands were the most sweaty hands I have ever encountered.
Anyway, short story long. I got her number and upon arrived home ended up calling and talking to her at the request of one of my mates. I vaguely recall the conversation, and the feeling that I will regret it in the morning.
Morning comes along, and while nursing a sore head snippets of the previous night came back to me. While in my drunken haze my recollection of the girl was that she was very pretty. In the cold hard light of day, I remember she was, in fact, a bit of a mutant. So after a few minutes of sitting and chatting with my friends, my phone beeps with a text message saying "Who is this?". This led to confusion until a mate told me while I was in the toilet he texted this "girl" from my phone. I can't remember the words of that particular text, but before I could reply I was pinned down and a further text was sent from my phone saying "It's Jboy from last night. We shared a romantic dance and kiss to 'Under the Boardwalk'".
So she replies. It was apparently prefect and she would love to see me again. Yada yada yada, no intention of calling her lest she eat me.
We got to a barbeque at a friends house that day. On the way my phone beeps with a text from a number I don't recognise. It claims to be from a mate of hers that was out with her the previous night asking if I was going to see her again as she has a bad time with men and gets down about it. I don't reply.
I get another text. And another. And on and on it goes. "You're not replying. Does that mean you won't see her? She really needs this, she has been treated like shit by men. She thought you might be different". "I know she is big, but she turned to comfort eating when her parents were killed in a car accident a few years back".
Being spineless, I decided not to reply but the messages kept coming in thick and fast. And got odder and odder. I was quite taken at the time by the porn star Cytherea, and was getting messages about how this girl can squirt like her. I didn't remember telling her about that, but it may have been possible.
After a while at the BBQ the messages got closer to psychopathic. She recalled my address from the previous night from what I could tell, and told me that my car (of which she told me the make, model and colour) looked nice when she got there, but now looks better with white paint all over the sun roof. And she likes the look of my house, and the cat in the window, but she wouldn't have painted the front door blue. By this time I was freaking out. I always wanted a stalker, but one that took the time to stalk and didn't go rushing in to the whole mental part of it.
By now, you have probably all guessed what I didn't at the time. It was my best mate/housemate texting me from his work mobile (of which I didn't have the number) pretending to be this girl. EVERYONE else at the BBQ knew about this. At one point, he was sat opposite texting me. Looking at the phone which he held under the table. And I thought he was falling asleep so told him to wake up and didn't even click that my phone beeped not two seconds later. Another mate at the BBQ (obviously in on it) offered to tell her to fuck off for me. He got "her" number off me and texted her saying to leave me alone. My other mates phone beeped just after he sent the text. I never even twigged.
I would love to call him a cunt for that, but I believe that honour belongs to me for falling for it. The only thing I can take solace in is that it cost him a fortune as he probably sent me at least 30 messages that day. I wanted to hurt him, but I felt it was my own fault for being such a plum.
(Mon 25th Aug 2008, 1:10, More)
» Messing with people's heads
I've never met a nice South African
I used to work at a desk next to a South African guy that I hated. With a passion. We both had 'L' shaped desks connected at a point to make a half rectangle. We sat back to back. One of his worst crimes against me, the one that really pissed me off, was reading my paper without asking. Yes, I got annoyed about a simple thing like that, and yes, it was only The Sun, but by God it annoyed the shit out of me.
Every morning, about 10:30 when he went to make his coffee, he would come back to his desk, slide over next to me, pretend to make conversation and then reach over and grab the paper whilst saying 'Well, let's see what's going on in the world today then', or something similar, but never 'Mind if I have a quick squizz of your paper there'?
After a while I tried to test how far he would go. I would put my paper further and further out of his reach to see how far he would go before asking. He never did. At one point I was pretty much placing it behind my CRT monitor, so much so that he would be pretty much leaned over my head, balancing on my shoulder, but at no point would he ask me to pass it to him.
Eventually there were a few snide comments pointed his way, most involving the word cunt. From this point on, he would read the paper when I stepped out of the room for a smoke. So I started taking it with me everywhere I went.
One day I must have left it at my desk after I went home for the night. The following morning it was in the bin - he had waited until the following morning to read it rather than politely ask me on the day. Hence a plan was hatched.
For a period of a few weeks, rather than leave them behind at work, or throw them away, I started stashing them in my drawers (not pants) at work. Built up a reasonable collection - a couple of weeks worth at least. And then just left them there. For about 6 months.
Once I felt enough time had passed, I began once again to leave my paper behind when I left work (he used to leave before me) safe in the knowledge that he would read it in the morning. Only before I left I would replace the inside pages with an issue from about 6 months ago leaving only the front and back cover as current news. I only did this every couple of days, just to fuck with him a little bit.
He never said anything. The cunt.
(Fri 13th Jan 2012, 9:19, More)
I've never met a nice South African
I used to work at a desk next to a South African guy that I hated. With a passion. We both had 'L' shaped desks connected at a point to make a half rectangle. We sat back to back. One of his worst crimes against me, the one that really pissed me off, was reading my paper without asking. Yes, I got annoyed about a simple thing like that, and yes, it was only The Sun, but by God it annoyed the shit out of me.
Every morning, about 10:30 when he went to make his coffee, he would come back to his desk, slide over next to me, pretend to make conversation and then reach over and grab the paper whilst saying 'Well, let's see what's going on in the world today then', or something similar, but never 'Mind if I have a quick squizz of your paper there'?
After a while I tried to test how far he would go. I would put my paper further and further out of his reach to see how far he would go before asking. He never did. At one point I was pretty much placing it behind my CRT monitor, so much so that he would be pretty much leaned over my head, balancing on my shoulder, but at no point would he ask me to pass it to him.
Eventually there were a few snide comments pointed his way, most involving the word cunt. From this point on, he would read the paper when I stepped out of the room for a smoke. So I started taking it with me everywhere I went.
One day I must have left it at my desk after I went home for the night. The following morning it was in the bin - he had waited until the following morning to read it rather than politely ask me on the day. Hence a plan was hatched.
For a period of a few weeks, rather than leave them behind at work, or throw them away, I started stashing them in my drawers (not pants) at work. Built up a reasonable collection - a couple of weeks worth at least. And then just left them there. For about 6 months.
Once I felt enough time had passed, I began once again to leave my paper behind when I left work (he used to leave before me) safe in the knowledge that he would read it in the morning. Only before I left I would replace the inside pages with an issue from about 6 months ago leaving only the front and back cover as current news. I only did this every couple of days, just to fuck with him a little bit.
He never said anything. The cunt.
(Fri 13th Jan 2012, 9:19, More)
» Random Acts of Kindness
Just last night in fact
I was rather inebriated. I am currently going through my most recent attempt to quit the cigarettes, however drunkenness demanded I have one. I couldn't see anyone around to bum one off, so wandered into the nearest liquor store to buy a pack and a lighter. The terrible realisation however dawned on me that I would have an entire pack, which I was bound to smoke over the next few hours and day or two, and then I would be addicted once again. So I did what I thought would be an awesome random act of kindness.
I opened the packet, removed a cigarette, and then just before taking the ciggie and lighter out of the store with me I handed back the pack of (now 19) fags, and said to the cashier 'Please give this packet to the next person who comes in here wanting to buy cigarettes'.
'Your friend had better hurry up' she said, 'I close in 5 minutes'. 'It's not going to be a friend of mine', I replied, 'just give the pack to the next person that asks for Marlboro Lights', and then strolled out of the shop.
In my mind, I was the mysterious stranger who paid it forward.
In reality, I was the drunken fucking fool who just paid $20 for one cigarette.
(Wed 15th Feb 2012, 10:19, More)
Just last night in fact
I was rather inebriated. I am currently going through my most recent attempt to quit the cigarettes, however drunkenness demanded I have one. I couldn't see anyone around to bum one off, so wandered into the nearest liquor store to buy a pack and a lighter. The terrible realisation however dawned on me that I would have an entire pack, which I was bound to smoke over the next few hours and day or two, and then I would be addicted once again. So I did what I thought would be an awesome random act of kindness.
I opened the packet, removed a cigarette, and then just before taking the ciggie and lighter out of the store with me I handed back the pack of (now 19) fags, and said to the cashier 'Please give this packet to the next person who comes in here wanting to buy cigarettes'.
'Your friend had better hurry up' she said, 'I close in 5 minutes'. 'It's not going to be a friend of mine', I replied, 'just give the pack to the next person that asks for Marlboro Lights', and then strolled out of the shop.
In my mind, I was the mysterious stranger who paid it forward.
In reality, I was the drunken fucking fool who just paid $20 for one cigarette.
(Wed 15th Feb 2012, 10:19, More)
» Amazing Projects
Days off when the weather is shit....
I got into a conversation with a flatmate about how it would be nice to not be restricted to one meat and two veg for dinner. Surely the more meat the better right? The only time I can think of when it is socially acceptable to have more than one type of meat on your plate is at Christmas, when you have turkey (bland) and pigs in blankets (2 types of pork, or for the more adventurous beef sausage connoisseur would equate to a total of 3). So I bought lots of meat (okay, technically only 4 different animals but 5 types of meat), and spent the best part of a day making the best sausage ever. Pictures and text and shit here.
(Tue 22nd Nov 2011, 10:15, More)
Days off when the weather is shit....
I got into a conversation with a flatmate about how it would be nice to not be restricted to one meat and two veg for dinner. Surely the more meat the better right? The only time I can think of when it is socially acceptable to have more than one type of meat on your plate is at Christmas, when you have turkey (bland) and pigs in blankets (2 types of pork, or for the more adventurous beef sausage connoisseur would equate to a total of 3). So I bought lots of meat (okay, technically only 4 different animals but 5 types of meat), and spent the best part of a day making the best sausage ever. Pictures and text and shit here.
(Tue 22nd Nov 2011, 10:15, More)