Karma



Sue Denham writes, "I once slipped out of work two hours early without the boss noticing. In my hurry to make the most of this petty victory, I knocked myself out on the car door and spent the rest of the day semi-conscious, bowking rich brown vomit over my one and only suit."



Have you been visited by the forces of Karma, or watched it happen to other people?



Thanks to Pooflake for the suggestion



( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 14:24) Sue Denham writes, "I once slipped out of work two hours early without the boss noticing. In my hurry to make the most of this petty victory, I knocked myself out on the car door and spent the rest of the day semi-conscious, bowking rich brown vomit over my one and only suit."Have you been visited by the forces of Karma, or watched it happen to other people?( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 14:24)

greed

One Christmas I was investigating the fridge when I discovered a huge bowl of brandy butter.



I was about to reap the rewards of my find, when my sister walked into the kitchen.



"You shouldn't eat that", she said flatly.



"Oh really!?" I asked, "and why not exactly, will you tell?"



I then performed a dance around the kitchen table clutching the bowl, while I sang "will you tell, will you tell, WILL YOU TELL????"



At the climax of this performance I scooped an enormous handful of the stuff into my mouth, which turned out to be translucent wobbly chicken fat.

( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:26, One Christmas I was investigating the fridge when I discovered a huge bowl of brandy butter.I was about to reap the rewards of my find, when my sister walked into the kitchen."You shouldn't eat that", she said flatly."Oh really!?" I asked, "and why not exactly, will you tell?"I then performed a dance around the kitchen table clutching the bowl, while I sang "will you tell, will you tell, WILL YOU TELL????"At the climax of this performance I scooped an enormous handful of the stuff into my mouth, which turned out to be translucent wobbly chicken fat.( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:26, 8 replies

I'm still kinda working on this one.

This is kind of a long and involved ramble without a punchline, so bear with me.



I live on the south side of Richmond Virginia, just outside of the city limits. I can travel ten miles from my house and either be in the city itself or in the middle of nowhere.



As I have been laid off yet again, I have a fair bit of time on my hands. As one can only do job hunting for so many hours per day, I find myself needing to get out of the house on my own a bit. Being unemployed, I have no money coming in, so I have to do things on the cheap.



One of the things I decided to do was play around with photography. So one day I got in my car and drove out along one of the main roads here in the direction of countryside, as I knew that there were some old farm buildings to be photographed out thataway.



So after poking around in this building a bit and finding that it wasn't safe to go upstairs or even through some of the downstairs, I decided to look further out and see what else I could find. And sure enough, as I went by a bit of a hill that they had cut into for the road, I saw the peak of an old structure back in the trees. So I backtracked and found the old driveway and parked at the end, and continued on foot.



As I approached the house I became a little more hesitant- I could see curtains in the windows and other signs of habitation, yet the place was clearly not inhabited now. I stepped between rotted pieces of furniture on the front porch to the front door, and saw that it was standing open behind the screen door. Not sure what to expect, I stepped inside.



The house is full of furniture, clothing, dishes and glassware, much of it kind of scattered about- someone had obviously ransacked the place looking for anything of value, then left it where it was to decay. The roof has holes in it, so the ceiling has fallen in throughout much of it and the floors have begun to rot through- and throughout it all are someone's abandoned possessions.



I was morbidly fascinated by this and looked around very carefully, and realized the following:



-the house had been inhabited by an elderly black couple. I found women's clothes as well as men's, and two photos of little black kids- apparently their grandchildren. And amid the wreckage I found his social security card- but instead of being paper like mine, it was a small aluminum plate. I don't think they've issued those since the beginning of Social Security.



-the woman had predeceased the man. Her bedroom (they stayed in separate rooms) was in advanced decay, with much of her stuff gone. At a guess I would say she was gone between one and three years when he died, judging from the state of the house- it had been rather messy before it was ransacked.



-the man was one of those old black handymen that you rarely find anymore, the kind who drive an old pickup with some tools in it and can fix anything that ever worked in the first place. Behind the house sit a number of old vehicles, and his pickup truck- with some tools in the cab, along with his last load of laundry, still in the basket.



-he died there in that house, most likely in his sleep. There was still food in the kitchen and old bedding on his bed, his razor and toothbrush are still in the bathroom, his glasses were on the kitchen table, and I found what appeared to be his cane lying next to the bed.



Apparently they took out his body, his relatives rooted around for anything they might want, and left the rest to decay where it was. In his bedroom are about a hundred ties and at least fifty suits, still hanging. All of his books, his records (there was still an LP in the record player), his papers, everything he had, are still there in the rot.



I don't know what kind of karma the old man had to be treated in this way- Google turned up nothing at all on him, not even an obituary. Were it not for his Social Security card, I wouldn't have any idea of his name- and in another few years there won't be anything to show that he ever existed. His family obviously doesn't care- and that's what really sent a chill through me, so that I had to get out of there, fast.



And yet... well, I did take a few things from there, which I will cherish and use. I took his Social Security card, his glasses, his cane and a few hand tools that I can put to use. I'm going to see if I can find out who currently owns the property so I can contact them and ask if I can take the rest of his stuff out of there for the Salvation Army. If his family doesn't care about him or his stuff, then I will. Someone needs to. No one should die so ignominiously.



And an interesting note to this: when I picked up the cane it rattled a little. I found that the brass tip unscrews, so I tightened it- and still it rattled. So I twisted the top, and it unscrewed in my hand and came off. I turned the cane upside down- and a long piece of wood emerged, with threads on one end and a cap on the other. The cane is actually a full length pool cue, with a very elaborate dragon carved into the handle. I'm going to take it with me one night and shoot a game or two in his honor.



RIP, Emmitt.



EDIT: w00t, it's my b3ta birthday today!



Update: his family are still in the area, and very nearby. It appears that they're still using his identity, which is even more horrid, despite the fact that Social Security records his death in 2000.



If my kids do this to me after I die, I'm going to come back and haunt them by playing Barry Manilow in the night.

( , Sun 24 Feb 2008, 14:12, This is kind of a long and involved ramble without a punchline, so bear with me.I live on the south side of Richmond Virginia, just outside of the city limits. I can travel ten miles from my house and either be in the city itself or in the middle of nowhere.As I have been laid off yet again, I have a fair bit of time on my hands. As one can only do job hunting for so many hours per day, I find myself needing to get out of the house on my own a bit. Being unemployed, I have no money coming in, so I have to do things on the cheap.One of the things I decided to do was play around with photography. So one day I got in my car and drove out along one of the main roads here in the direction of countryside, as I knew that there were some old farm buildings to be photographed out thataway. Here is one picture I shot, and here is a detail from the same building. Pretty cool, huh?So after poking around in this building a bit and finding that it wasn't safe to go upstairs or even through some of the downstairs, I decided to look further out and see what else I could find. And sure enough, as I went by a bit of a hill that they had cut into for the road, I saw the peak of an old structure back in the trees. So I backtracked and found the old driveway and parked at the end, and continued on foot.As I approached the house I became a little more hesitant- I could see curtains in the windows and other signs of habitation, yet the place was clearly not inhabited now. I stepped between rotted pieces of furniture on the front porch to the front door, and saw that it was standing open behind the screen door. Not sure what to expect, I stepped inside.The house is full of furniture, clothing, dishes and glassware, much of it kind of scattered about- someone had obviously ransacked the place looking for anything of value, then left it where it was to decay. The roof has holes in it, so the ceiling has fallen in throughout much of it and the floors have begun to rot through- and throughout it all are someone's abandoned possessions.I was morbidly fascinated by this and looked around very carefully, and realized the following:-the house had been inhabited by an elderly black couple. I found women's clothes as well as men's, and two photos of little black kids- apparently their grandchildren. And amid the wreckage I found his social security card- but instead of being paper like mine, it was a small aluminum plate. I don't think they've issued those since the beginning of Social Security.-the woman had predeceased the man. Her bedroom (they stayed in separate rooms) was in advanced decay, with much of her stuff gone. At a guess I would say she was gone between one and three years when he died, judging from the state of the house- it had been rather messy before it was ransacked.-the man was one of those old black handymen that you rarely find anymore, the kind who drive an old pickup with some tools in it and can fix anything that ever worked in the first place. Behind the house sit a number of old vehicles, and his pickup truck- with some tools in the cab, along with his last load of laundry, still in the basket.-he died there in that house, most likely in his sleep. There was still food in the kitchen and old bedding on his bed, his razor and toothbrush are still in the bathroom, his glasses were on the kitchen table, and I found what appeared to be his cane lying next to the bed.Apparently they took out his body, his relatives rooted around for anything they might want, and left the rest to decay where it was. In his bedroom are about a hundred ties and at least fifty suits, still hanging. All of his books, his records (there was still an LP in the record player), his papers, everything he had, are still there in the rot.I don't know what kind of karma the old man had to be treated in this way- Google turned up nothing at all on him, not even an obituary. Were it not for his Social Security card, I wouldn't have any idea of his name- and in another few years there won't be anything to show that he ever existed. His family obviously doesn't care- and that's what really sent a chill through me, so that I had to get out of there, fast.And yet... well, I did take a few things from there, which I will cherish and use. I took his Social Security card, his glasses, his cane and a few hand tools that I can put to use. I'm going to see if I can find out who currently owns the property so I can contact them and ask if I can take the rest of his stuff out of there for the Salvation Army. If his family doesn't care about him or his stuff, then I will. Someone needs to. No one should die so ignominiously.And an interesting note to this: when I picked up the cane it rattled a little. I found that the brass tip unscrews, so I tightened it- and still it rattled. So I twisted the top, and it unscrewed in my hand and came off. I turned the cane upside down- and a long piece of wood emerged, with threads on one end and a cap on the other. The cane is actually a full length pool cue, with a very elaborate dragon carved into the handle. I'm going to take it with me one night and shoot a game or two in his honor.RIP, Emmitt.EDIT: w00t, it's my b3ta birthday today!his family are still in the area, and very nearby. It appears that they're still using his identity, which is even more horrid, despite the fact that Social Security records his death in 2000.If my kids do this to me after I die, I'm going to come back and haunt them by playing Barry Manilow in the night.( , Sun 24 Feb 2008, 14:12, 13 replies

Karma?

This isn’t a particularly easy post for me to make, but because of this week’s question I thought I’d share…



Usually this story is one I only tell people who have known me a fair length of time because, believe it or not, I’m actually a very

private person. However, I was once asked to do some work for



Good grief - that sounds terribly worthy – I'm not, but the story is.





*****************



Many years ago during the summer of my 21st birthday I had it all – I was at uni studying history with plans to become a primary school teacher, I had my own car, good friends, and a handsome boyfriend who was two years later to become my first husband and as I was also to discover, gay….but that’s another story…





One day I was laying in the bath feeling smug about my perfect life when I noticed a small lump sitting on the top of my right breast, in fact more on the flat part of my upper chest. I thought it strange as I’d never noticed it before and put it down to hormonal fluctuations – surely it would disappear when I’d had my period. So I left it for a couple of weeks waiting for it to go.



It didn’t.



Full of shame and embarrassment I booked an appointment with the nurse at my doctors’ surgery – why the shame and embarrassment?



Need I remind you I was a good catholic girl?

Despite having long since lost my virginity I had not had many boyfriends, I was not accustomed to whipping out my boobs at any drunken opportunity – to my mind (despite obvious evidence to the contrary) I was fat and therefore unattractive – in other words I was pretty much an ordinary young woman.



So with head hung down to hide my burning cheeks I took off my t-shirt and bra to show the nurse the lump I’d found on my breast. She took one look, called me silly for coming to see her and not the doctor and called in my GP. This man had known me all my life – seen me go through measles, chickenpox, german measles, mumps – in fact, you name it, I’d had it. My shame deepened – he was going to see my breasts!



He examined me and told me, "Oh, that’s nothing, just a fibroid adenoma."

A what?

"Very common. Nothing to worry about."



Weeks passed and finally in the late autumn I saw the surgeon. "This lump – yes, probably a fibroid adenoma, but let’s take it out just to be on the safe side"



Fast forward to March – two months before my 22nd birthday.



I go in for day surgery to have this lump taken out – I’m in the hospital at around 8am and have left by 3pm feeling fine but a little sore. Told to come back in a week to have the stitches taken out.





All the other appointments I had attended alone – I’m a very independent person, always have been. This time however my mum came along – I made her sit in the waiting room, as I wouldn’t have her see my breasts!



In the examining room I sat with a nurse, she was probably in her early thirties and was there to help the surgeon remove the stitches and act as female chaperone. The surgeon came in and before he began to attend to the wound he very gently told me that unfortunately the lump hadn’t been a benign fibroid adenoma but instead it was a malignant tumour.



Breast cancer.





When I got up from the emotional number 8 bus which had just run me over my first question, the obvious question, “Am I going to die?” And to his credit he didn’t lie to me or fob me off – he was completely honest, “I don’t know. Come back this afternoon, speak to a colleague of mine, an oncologist, and he will be able to tell you more.”



He then took out the stitches, squeezed my hand and wished me good luck. Then he went to get my mother. I was left with the nurse who simply kept repeating, “Oh please don’t cry! Don’t cry, please don’t cry!”



I drove myself and my mum home – she’d already phoned my dad who happened to be having a day off. I don’t honestly remember much about those few hours between being told and then going back to the hospital in the afternoon. Except that I truly believed I would die within the year. I went for a shower and stood under the water sobbing with regret that I would never be married, never have children, never have a life. Then I began to pull myself together – the strangest things get you through times like these – I kept on thinking of all the young servicemen who had been killed in wars – they would have been a similar age to me and they were dead now. If they could get through it, so could I.



The next six months passed in a daze – I had been reassured that I was not terminal, everything had been caught at an early stage. However because of my age they needed to be sure that that I didn’t have a reoccurrence. I had chest x-rays, a bone scan, ultrasounds of my liver and then the treatment.



First off was six weeks of radiotherapy – just like having an extended x-ray – three times a week for about 20 minutes at a time. During those six weeks I wasn’t allowed to wear deodorant or even talc because they would interfere with the treatment. The skin on my breast and under my arm became reddened then sores opened – I had to wear a t-shirt under a bra like some sort of bizarre female superman.



Around the same time I also began a regime of chemotherapy – I was lucky my hair didn’t fall out, but I had it all cut off to a short crop just in case. After the radiotherapy finished I spend a week in hospital alone in a lead-lined room with five radioactive wires skewering my breast and no one was allowed to visit me for more than fifteen minutes a day to protect them from the radioactivity.



Throughout the entire six months no one would have known I was ill – I looked just the same, yes I’d cut my hair and I was a little tired, but I didn’t lose any weight or look ill. I saw other patients – thankfully mostly old – come and go, many of them dying, including a young woman only a few years older than myself who had two young children.







Karma? I did wonder for a long time what I’d done in a previous life to deserve this.



But…..







Fast forward six years – I’m divorced from the handsome gay man and have remarried. One month after the wedding we decide to start to try for a family – no hanging about as I had been warned that I may find it difficult or even impossible to conceive because of all the treatment.





And that’s where the Karma comes in….



First attempt.



Twins.



Non identical twins – that’s two eggs – in other words, don’t sit to close to men on buses as you are über-fertile.



Healthy pregnancy, boys delivered full term and large – both around seven pounds.





That was ten years ago. I continue to go for regular mammograms but my chances now of developing cancer are the same as anyone else.







If that’s Karma, I can deal with it.

( , Fri 22 Feb 2008, 11:34, This isn’t a particularly easy post for me to make, but because of this week’s question I thought I’d share…Usually this story is one I only tell people who have known me a fair length of time because, believe it or not, I’m actually a veryprivate person. However, I was once asked to do some work for the Lavender Trust – at the time I was too busy bringing up my sons so instead here’s my bit in the interests of offering hope…Good grief - that sounds terribly worthy – I'm not, but the story is.*****************Many years ago during the summer of my 21st birthday I had it all – I was at uni studying history with plans to become a primary school teacher, I had my own car, good friends, and a handsome boyfriend who was two years later to become my first husband and as I was also to discover, gay….but that’s another story…One day I was laying in the bath feeling smug about my perfect life when I noticed a small lump sitting on the top of my right breast, in fact more on the flat part of my upper chest. I thought it strange as I’d never noticed it before and put it down to hormonal fluctuations – surely it would disappear when I’d had my period. So I left it for a couple of weeks waiting for it to go.It didn’t.Full of shame and embarrassment I booked an appointment with the nurse at my doctors’ surgery – why the shame and embarrassment?Need I remind you I was a good catholic girl?Despite having long since lost my virginity I had not had many boyfriends, I was not accustomed to whipping out my boobs at any drunken opportunity – to my mind (despite obvious evidence to the contrary) I was fat and therefore unattractive – in other words I was pretty much an ordinary young woman.So with head hung down to hide my burning cheeks I took off my t-shirt and bra to show the nurse the lump I’d found on my breast. She took one look, called me silly for coming to see her and not the doctor and called in my GP. This man had known me all my life – seen me go through measles, chickenpox, german measles, mumps – in fact, you name it, I’d had it. My shame deepened – he was going to see my breasts!He examined me and told me, "Oh, that’s nothing, just a fibroid adenoma."A what?"Very common. Nothing to worry about."Weeks passed and finally in the late autumn I saw the surgeon. "This lump – yes, probably a fibroid adenoma, but let’s take it out just to be on the safe side"Fast forward to March – two months before my 22nd birthday.I go in for day surgery to have this lump taken out – I’m in the hospital at around 8am and have left by 3pm feeling fine but a little sore. Told to come back in a week to have the stitches taken out.All the other appointments I had attended alone – I’m a very independent person, always have been. This time however my mum came along – I made her sit in the waiting room, as I wouldn’t have her see my breasts!In the examining room I sat with a nurse, she was probably in her early thirties and was there to help the surgeon remove the stitches and act as female chaperone. The surgeon came in and before he began to attend to the wound he very gently told me that unfortunately the lump hadn’t been a benign fibroid adenoma but instead it was a malignant tumour.Breast cancer.When I got up from the emotional number 8 bus which had just run me over my first question, the obvious question, “Am I going to die?” And to his credit he didn’t lie to me or fob me off – he was completely honest, “I don’t know. Come back this afternoon, speak to a colleague of mine, an oncologist, and he will be able to tell you more.”He then took out the stitches, squeezed my hand and wished me good luck. Then he went to get my mother. I was left with the nurse who simply kept repeating, “Oh please don’t cry! Don’t cry, please don’t cry!”I drove myself and my mum home – she’d already phoned my dad who happened to be having a day off. I don’t honestly remember much about those few hours between being told and then going back to the hospital in the afternoon. Except that I truly believed I would die within the year. I went for a shower and stood under the water sobbing with regret that I would never be married, never have children, never have a life. Then I began to pull myself together – the strangest things get you through times like these – I kept on thinking of all the young servicemen who had been killed in wars – they would have been a similar age to me and they were dead now. If they could get through it, so could I.The next six months passed in a daze – I had been reassured that I was not terminal, everything had been caught at an early stage. However because of my age they needed to be sure that that I didn’t have a reoccurrence. I had chest x-rays, a bone scan, ultrasounds of my liver and then the treatment.First off was six weeks of radiotherapy – just like having an extended x-ray – three times a week for about 20 minutes at a time. During those six weeks I wasn’t allowed to wear deodorant or even talc because they would interfere with the treatment. The skin on my breast and under my arm became reddened then sores opened – I had to wear a t-shirt under a bra like some sort of bizarre female superman.Around the same time I also began a regime of chemotherapy – I was lucky my hair didn’t fall out, but I had it all cut off to a short crop just in case. After the radiotherapy finished I spend a week in hospital alone in a lead-lined room with five radioactive wires skewering my breast and no one was allowed to visit me for more than fifteen minutes a day to protect them from the radioactivity.Throughout the entire six months no one would have known I was ill – I looked just the same, yes I’d cut my hair and I was a little tired, but I didn’t lose any weight or look ill. I saw other patients – thankfully mostly old – come and go, many of them dying, including a young woman only a few years older than myself who had two young children.Karma? I did wonder for a long time what I’d done in a previous life to deserve this.But…..Fast forward six years – I’m divorced from the handsome gay man and have remarried. One month after the wedding we decide to start to try for a family – no hanging about as I had been warned that I may find it difficult or even impossible to conceive because of all the treatment.And that’s where the Karma comes in….First attempt.Twins.Non identical twins – that’s two eggs – in other words, don’t sit to close to men on buses as you are über-fertile.Healthy pregnancy, boys delivered full term and large – both around seven pounds.That was ten years ago. I continue to go for regular mammograms but my chances now of developing cancer are the same as anyone else.If that’s Karma, I can deal with it.( , Fri 22 Feb 2008, 11:34, 33 replies

Flatmate from hell

OK, so I'll get straight into it...



In 2002 I went to uni in Edinburgh. Initially I was quite anxious as it was quite a way from where I'm from (NW England) and I was the only one I knew going there, but it is a beautiful city and student life is great. Turns out anyway, that Edinburgh uni doesn't really present much of a cross section of Scotish society, being largely made up as it is of rich English people from Surrey eager to try out the snowy wastelands on Daddy's tab.



Cue the end of 2nd year. My group of friends and I are choosing who lives with who as we move from halls to flats. My course is pretty intensive so 9 times out of 10 I would have to turn down any invitation for a night out/spliff/party. Hence, my name was not too high up on people's wishlist when it came to populating their soon-to-be uberparty-pad. So I got lumbered with 3 other guys. Now, two of these guys are fine, one (Joe - a rather wealthy Surrey boy) was unknown to me and, as you'll see, turned out to be a bit of a shit.



We got lucky with our flat. Super-close to the new Parliament and with 3 floors for 4 people, the rent was undervalued hugely because it was brand new and we were the first tenants. Everything was gleaming - it was worth £500k apparently. Not bad for £270pm each in Edinburgh. So we got everything signed and went to our prospective homes for summer to work etc. Except for J, who decided to hang around for summer and enjoy the festival. The last I see of him is when I leave for home having just put all my coursework, architecture models, computer stuff etc in my room and locking the bedroom door behind me.



About a month later, I'm heading up to Edinburgh with 2 friends. We decided to celebrate my birthday by having a week in the festival. Why not? I've already paid for the rent. On the train up I get a phone call from one of the other flatmates telling me he's moving out.



'What?!' says I, a tad surprised and concerned.

'It's the flat, man. It's fucked up. Joe's fucked it all up'. Says he.



It doesn't sound good. So I tell him I'll check it out for myself and not to tell Joe that I'm coming.



We arrive in Waverly, walk the short distance to the flat and get ready for what awaits us. The plan was set: go quietly straight up to my room on the top floor, leave our stuff then have a look around. Up we go. As I reach the top of the stairs I notice something different about my bedroom door. There seems to be only half of it left on the hinges, the rest splintered across the floor. Shit.



We go in to my room. There's three tussled but empty sleeping bags. I step on a used condom. I survey the room. My flatmate's description was accurate: it's fucked. The blinds have been torn and snapped off the wall. The en-suite (nice flat as I say) - brand new until now - was a tip. Piss everywhere. Smears of what I can only assume to be shit along the shower walls. The shower head is smashed and hanging like a New York payphone. I open my wardrobe. Coursework: crumpled into a ball. Architecture models: completely decimated. Computer: side has come off and one of my jumpers has be shoved inside it. On inspection the insides have been smashed. Time to see Joe.



We go down to the kitchen via the living room. The living room is off the kitchen with double doors, so it's pretty much one huge space. Walking in, we see about 10 sleeping bags and a mattress (we had no furniture at this stage). In the corner is a comatosed Joe half on the matress, half on the floor. His head being on the floor. We step over him and enter the kitchen.



What followed was the most breathtaking site I've ever seen (including goatse). Scattered amongst spilled beans and cans of beer were: 1 large pile of coke - the scale of which can only be described as 'Scarface', the remenants of about 50 lines, a bag of ketamine, 5 large bags of pills, 2 (!!) ounce-bags of weed. Many discarded pieces of foil with burn marks (I presume crack, heroin). The fridge is ajar. It's full - to the point it won't close - of mushrooms. And there, in the middle of all this, is one used syringe.



I walk over to Joe to wake him up. His eyes are deep pink. His expression on seeing me standing over him was a lot like the 2 girls 1 cup mammal thing on the front page. Imagine your expression if your dad walked in on you wanking over a picture of your mum. That's the kind of shock/shame/fear in his eyes right now. He stares at me. I stare at him. Finally he pipes up with, 'What the fuck are you doing in my flat?'.



Come again?



'Get out, man. This is my flat now. You can fuck off. Go find yourself another place to stay.'



This went on for a while. Me pointing out the obvious, him still tripping off his tits telling me to get out of his newly-conquered territory. I'll cut this bit down as this is getting long... Basically, I looked for another flat. Eventually, I realise I've got a good one as it is and shouldn't have to be spending my birthday flat hunting because he decided to fuck up our current flat. I decided I'd better get the landlords involved.



We met the next day outside the flat (we were staying at my mate's in the meantime). On the way we walked down Princes St. We saw something rather bizarre: some guy leaning forward off a traffic light post in the middle of the road (think Titanic, king of the world scene) staring at oncoming traffic as if wanting a fight. He then lets go and runs straight at the oncoming cars. Cue much beeping, running over bonnets, and narrowly avoiding a bus. All while half naked and screaming 'Wahoooooo!'. Wierd. But it is festival time.

Anyway, I explain everything to them. They were shocked but, to their credit understanding. They appreciated the honesty and the chance to save their expensive new property. We say thanks and stand back as they enter the flat...



Now, you know that scene from Ratatouille where the woman's ceiling falls down and about 10,000 rats come flooding out of the house. Yeah, like that but with Spanish and French people. Some half naked, some fully. All fucked up and running as if Robocop himself had just walked in. I've never seen so many bouncing dredlocks in all my life. After about 5 mins it's pretty quiet except for a shouting/whimpering exchange. Then, just as things look like they're coming to a close someone sprints past us heading for the flat, bumping us on the way:



'Wooohooooooooo!' The half naked guy pelts straight in ready to join the party. About 3 seconds later he comes running out again, minus the woohoo.



So yeah, the karma is, he got kicked out, he lost many friends and fucked up his degree. The one stand out moment, though was when my friends and I were sitting in my bedroom window a few minutes later. I was enjoying the fact that I no longer had to face flat hunting at the worst time of the year or be homeless, while my mates were happy to be watching the spectacle. As Joe slinked away, pashmina-clad girlfriend in toe, he looked back and we all gave him a wave. The cunt.

( , Wed 27 Feb 2008, 7:14, OK, so I'll get straight into it...In 2002 I went to uni in Edinburgh. Initially I was quite anxious as it was quite a way from where I'm from (NW England) and I was the only one I knew going there, but it is a beautiful city and student life is great. Turns out anyway, that Edinburgh uni doesn't really present much of a cross section of Scotish society, being largely made up as it is of rich English people from Surrey eager to try out the snowy wastelands on Daddy's tab.Cue the end of 2nd year. My group of friends and I are choosing who lives with who as we move from halls to flats. My course is pretty intensive so 9 times out of 10 I would have to turn down any invitation for a night out/spliff/party. Hence, my name was not too high up on people's wishlist when it came to populating their soon-to-be uberparty-pad. So I got lumbered with 3 other guys. Now, two of these guys are fine, one (Joe - a rather wealthy Surrey boy) was unknown to me and, as you'll see, turned out to be a bit of a shit.We got lucky with our flat. Super-close to the new Parliament and with 3 floors for 4 people, the rent was undervalued hugely because it was brand new and we were the first tenants. Everything was gleaming - it was worth £500k apparently. Not bad for £270pm each in Edinburgh. So we got everything signed and went to our prospective homes for summer to work etc. Except for J, who decided to hang around for summer and enjoy the festival. The last I see of him is when I leave for home having just put all my coursework, architecture models, computer stuff etc in my room and locking the bedroom door behind me.About a month later, I'm heading up to Edinburgh with 2 friends. We decided to celebrate my birthday by having a week in the festival. Why not? I've already paid for the rent. On the train up I get a phone call from one of the other flatmates telling me he's moving out.'What?!' says I, a tad surprised and concerned.'It's the flat, man. It's fucked up. Joe's fucked it all up'. Says he.It doesn't sound good. So I tell him I'll check it out for myself and not to tell Joe that I'm coming.We arrive in Waverly, walk the short distance to the flat and get ready for what awaits us. The plan was set: go quietly straight up to my room on the top floor, leave our stuff then have a look around. Up we go. As I reach the top of the stairs I notice something different about my bedroom door. There seems to be only half of it left on the hinges, the rest splintered across the floor. Shit.We go in to my room. There's three tussled but empty sleeping bags. I step on a used condom. I survey the room. My flatmate's description was accurate: it's fucked. The blinds have been torn and snapped off the wall. The en-suite (nice flat as I say) - brand new until now - was a tip. Piss everywhere. Smears of what I can only assume to be shit along the shower walls. The shower head is smashed and hanging like a New York payphone. I open my wardrobe. Coursework: crumpled into a ball. Architecture models: completely decimated. Computer: side has come off and one of my jumpers has be shoved inside it. On inspection the insides have been smashed. Time to see Joe.We go down to the kitchen via the living room. The living room is off the kitchen with double doors, so it's pretty much one huge space. Walking in, we see about 10 sleeping bags and a mattress (we had no furniture at this stage). In the corner is a comatosed Joe half on the matress, half on the floor. His head being on the floor. We step over him and enter the kitchen.What followed was the most breathtaking site I've ever seen (including goatse). Scattered amongst spilled beans and cans of beer were: 1 large pile of coke - the scale of which can only be described as 'Scarface', the remenants of about 50 lines, a bag of ketamine, 5 large bags of pills, 2 (!!) ounce-bags of weed. Many discarded pieces of foil with burn marks (I presume crack, heroin). The fridge is ajar. It's full - to the point it won't close - of mushrooms. And there, in the middle of all this, is one used syringe.I walk over to Joe to wake him up. His eyes are deep pink. His expression on seeing me standing over him was a lot like the 2 girls 1 cup mammal thing on the front page. Imagine your expression if your dad walked in on you wanking over a picture of your mum. That's the kind of shock/shame/fear in his eyes right now. He stares at me. I stare at him. Finally he pipes up with, 'What the fuck are you doing in my flat?'.Come again?'Get out, man. This is my flat now. You can fuck off. Go find yourself another place to stay.'This went on for a while. Me pointing out the obvious, him still tripping off his tits telling me to get out of his newly-conquered territory. I'll cut this bit down as this is getting long... Basically, I looked for another flat. Eventually, I realise I've got a good one as it is and shouldn't have to be spending my birthday flat hunting because he decided to fuck up our current flat. I decided I'd better get the landlords involved.We met the next day outside the flat (we were staying at my mate's in the meantime). On the way we walked down Princes St. We saw something rather bizarre: some guy leaning forward off a traffic light post in the middle of the road (think Titanic, king of the world scene) staring at oncoming traffic as if wanting a fight. He then lets go and runs straight at the oncoming cars. Cue much beeping, running over bonnets, and narrowly avoiding a bus. All while half naked and screaming 'Wahoooooo!'. Wierd. But it is festival time.Anyway, I explain everything to them. They were shocked but, to their credit understanding. They appreciated the honesty and the chance to save their expensive new property. We say thanks and stand back as they enter the flat...Now, you know that scene from Ratatouille where the woman's ceiling falls down and about 10,000 rats come flooding out of the house. Yeah, like that but with Spanish and French people. Some half naked, some fully. All fucked up and running as if Robocop himself had just walked in. I've never seen so many bouncing dredlocks in all my life. After about 5 mins it's pretty quiet except for a shouting/whimpering exchange. Then, just as things look like they're coming to a close someone sprints past us heading for the flat, bumping us on the way:'Wooohooooooooo!' The half naked guy pelts straight in ready to join the party. About 3 seconds later he comes running out again, minus the woohoo.So yeah, the karma is, he got kicked out, he lost many friends and fucked up his degree. The one stand out moment, though was when my friends and I were sitting in my bedroom window a few minutes later. I was enjoying the fact that I no longer had to face flat hunting at the worst time of the year or be homeless, while my mates were happy to be watching the spectacle. As Joe slinked away, pashmina-clad girlfriend in toe, he looked back and we all gave him a wave. The cunt.( , Wed 27 Feb 2008, 7:14, 15 replies

Karma, dish out your own.

A couple of years a go I found out my loving fiancée of 2 and partner of 6 years was fooling about with a lard ass fool at the local bar behind my back.



I hacked her email to discover she had changed a holiday we had booked and I paid for, got the travel agent to change my name for his on the tickets.



When I confronted her she denied everything, even when I showed her the ticket change as proof. I couldn’t believe that the bitch could look me straight in the eye and lie through her teeth without even blinking.



As it was my house I dumped her gear in the driveway while she was at work, changed the locks and as a parting gift I put Immac hair removal cream in her shampoo and pissed in her conditioner.



Come holiday time that I paid for, her and the new fat lad went away on my trip. Now as I hacked her email I was able to reset her EasyJet account password and then was able to change flight details, you can see where this is going. I never changed the outgoing flight but when they arrived at Malaga airport for the return flight they found themselves 24 hours too late.



Turns out the couldn’t get another flight home for 2 days and as it was last minute had to pay £100’s extra for a seat.



On her return she bleated to the cops who came to my house and nicked me. I ended up at the loal cop shop where all the coppers patted me on the back pissing themselves laughing saying that was the best revenge they had ever seen and telling me the bitch deserved it.



All I got from the cops was a caution from a grinning sergeant much to my ex’s dismay. She wanted full prosecution to which the cops told her to look at her own 2-faced actions.



2 months down the line the fat lad grew bored and kicked her out of his place too.



She now lives in a room above the crappy bar she picked him up in where as i now own the 3 bed semi and have a 23yo girlfriend who i know would do anything for me.



Karma....gotta love it.

( , Fri 22 Feb 2008, 10:31, A couple of years a go I found out my loving fiancée of 2 and partner of 6 years was fooling about with a lard ass fool at the local bar behind my back.I hacked her email to discover she had changed a holiday we had booked and I paid for, got the travel agent to change my name for his on the tickets.When I confronted her she denied everything, even when I showed her the ticket change as proof. I couldn’t believe that the bitch could look me straight in the eye and lie through her teeth without even blinking.As it was my house I dumped her gear in the driveway while she was at work, changed the locks and as a parting gift I put Immac hair removal cream in her shampoo and pissed in her conditioner.Come holiday time that I paid for, her and the new fat lad went away on my trip. Now as I hacked her email I was able to reset her EasyJet account password and then was able to change flight details, you can see where this is going. I never changed the outgoing flight but when they arrived at Malaga airport for the return flight they found themselves 24 hours too late.Turns out the couldn’t get another flight home for 2 days and as it was last minute had to pay £100’s extra for a seat.On her return she bleated to the cops who came to my house and nicked me. I ended up at the loal cop shop where all the coppers patted me on the back pissing themselves laughing saying that was the best revenge they had ever seen and telling me the bitch deserved it.All I got from the cops was a caution from a grinning sergeant much to my ex’s dismay. She wanted full prosecution to which the cops told her to look at her own 2-faced actions.2 months down the line the fat lad grew bored and kicked her out of his place too.She now lives in a room above the crappy bar she picked him up in where as i now own the 3 bed semi and have a 23yo girlfriend who i know would do anything for me.Karma....gotta love it.( , Fri 22 Feb 2008, 10:31, 3 replies

What goes around, comes around.

Not really sure if this is Karma, but since when has that stopped anyone from posting a good tale?



When I was about 10, one of the houses that back onto my folk’s place was owned by a local “hard nut” gangster-wannabe type, along with his wife and two kids. Really nasty piece of shit he was.



Every Sunday, he had the same routine, he would drive his prized BMW 5-Series to a pub a few miles away, have nine or ten pints with his “well’ard” cronies, probably glass some poor fucker who looked at his pint funny, then drive home. Once he got home, it would start “MY DINNER’S COLD YOU STUPID BITCH!” *SMACK* “HOW MANY” *SMACK* “TIMES” *SMACK* “HAVE I” *SMACK* “TOLD YOU” *SMACK* and so on. It would then move on to “AND YOU TWO CAN SHUT UP AS WELL!” *SMACK SMACK*.



You could hear this shit through two closed windows and a distance of about two hundred feet. And it would last for hours. His two kids went to my school, but kept having time off with things like “measles”, which they must have got a couple of times a year and “the flu” which caused mysterious swellings around their eyes.



So anyway, lovely guy.



One Sunday, he was down the pub as usual when he spotted a black kid walk past the afore mentioned Beemer. Did I mention he wasn’t exactly fond of the darker-skinned members of society? Well, he wasn’t. He comes flying out of the pub and accuses this kid (who was about 8) of first trying to steal his car, then of keying it. After hurling a bit of racist abuse about, he gives this kid a normally reserved for immediate family members slap and goes back to his drinking and general hardcuntness.



Ten minutes later little black kid arrives back in the pub, still crying, being dragged by his dad, points at knobhead neighbour and says “that’s him”. Guy goes up to big bully boy and says “what the fuck do you think you’re doing hitting my kid”. Bloke, safe in the knowledge that 1) He’s well’ard (in his mind at least) and 2) he’s with 10 of his “crew”, turns to the guy and says “Oh fuck off, you stupid n*****” (radio edit for racism).



Father of crying child sticks the head on the racist, bullying prick, slamming him straight down to the deck. One of the “crew” looks like he might intervene, but is stopped by a look from the now very angry father. This angry bloke then proceeds to paint the pub with the guy who hit his kid. He proper battered him. He actually beat him so badly that he lost an eye and walked with a limp for the rest of his life, since he was pretty much paralysed down one side. All while the guys “crew” stood and watched, shitting themselves in case they caught some of what he was getting.



Funnily enough, we never heard him hit his wife and kids after that, possibly because he couldn’t anymore. He moved out about 9 months later, since he could no longer afford the mortgage and, rumour has it, his wife took the kids and fucked off not long after, since she was no longer scared of him.



You lie down with dogs…

( , Fri 22 Feb 2008, 9:10, Not really sure if this is Karma, but since when has that stopped anyone from posting a good tale?When I was about 10, one of the houses that back onto my folk’s place was owned by a local “hard nut” gangster-wannabe type, along with his wife and two kids. Really nasty piece of shit he was.Every Sunday, he had the same routine, he would drive his prized BMW 5-Series to a pub a few miles away, have nine or ten pints with his “well’ard” cronies, probably glass some poor fucker who looked at his pint funny, then drive home. Once he got home, it would start “MY DINNER’S COLD YOU STUPID BITCH!” *SMACK* “HOW MANY” *SMACK* “TIMES” *SMACK* “HAVE I” *SMACK* “TOLD YOU” *SMACK* and so on. It would then move on to “AND YOU TWO CAN SHUT UP AS WELL!” *SMACK SMACK*.You could hear this shit through two closed windows and a distance of about two hundred feet. And it would last for hours. His two kids went to my school, but kept having time off with things like “measles”, which they must have got a couple of times a year and “the flu” which caused mysterious swellings around their eyes.So anyway, lovely guy.One Sunday, he was down the pub as usual when he spotted a black kid walk past the afore mentioned Beemer. Did I mention he wasn’t exactly fond of the darker-skinned members of society? Well, he wasn’t. He comes flying out of the pub and accuses this kid (who was about 8) of first trying to steal his car, then of keying it. After hurling a bit of racist abuse about, he gives this kid a normally reserved for immediate family members slap and goes back to his drinking and general hardcuntness.Ten minutes later little black kid arrives back in the pub, still crying, being dragged by his dad, points at knobhead neighbour and says “that’s him”. Guy goes up to big bully boy and says “what the fuck do you think you’re doing hitting my kid”. Bloke, safe in the knowledge that 1) He’s well’ard (in his mind at least) and 2) he’s with 10 of his “crew”, turns to the guy and says “Oh fuck off, you stupid n*****” (radio edit for racism).Father of crying child sticks the head on the racist, bullying prick, slamming him straight down to the deck. One of the “crew” looks like he might intervene, but is stopped by a look from the now very angry father. This angry bloke then proceeds to paint the pub with the guy who hit his kid. He proper battered him. He actually beat him so badly that he lost an eye and walked with a limp for the rest of his life, since he was pretty much paralysed down one side. All while the guys “crew” stood and watched, shitting themselves in case they caught some of what he was getting.Funnily enough, we never heard him hit his wife and kids after that, possibly because he couldn’t anymore. He moved out about 9 months later, since he could no longer afford the mortgage and, rumour has it, his wife took the kids and fucked off not long after, since she was no longer scared of him.You lie down with dogs…( , Fri 22 Feb 2008, 9:10, 8 replies

I work with a man who is utterly abhorrent.

He's an arrogant American chap who, at Christmas, rammed his version of festivity down the entire office's neck. This included lots of tinsel, a singing nativity set and an advent calendar that he guarded WITH HIS LIFE. So, one of the guys ate the largest chocolate (designated for Christmas Eve) and left



I'm not sure it's strictly karma, but it was fucking awesome.

( , Mon 25 Feb 2008, 14:11, He's an arrogant American chap who, at Christmas, rammed his version of festivity down the entire office's neck. This included lots of tinsel, a singing nativity set and an advent calendar that he guarded WITH HIS LIFE. So, one of the guys ate the largest chocolate (designated for Christmas Eve) and left this in its place.I'm not sure it's strictly karma, but it was fucking awesome.( , Mon 25 Feb 2008, 14:11, 7 replies

Karmic Retribution?

I was 16, severely messed up from events I don't need to go into here, and pretty emotionally vulnerable, (not to mention very immature!) - some of the reasons I got ensnared into a bizarre underworld which, by comparison, make the shenanigans of Shameless look pretty tame...



I got pregnant at 16, and, while in such a happy condition, my partner (to give you a flavour of his lovely nature) was basically shagging anything that walked, buggering off out of our flat at 6 am to go to his mum's with the only set of keys, so I was either forced to stay at home or wander the streets til he decided to come home...he spiked my tea with lsd 'for a laugh', seduced his 15 year old cousin in our flat, sided with some of his mates who'd raped a girl by holding her down in turns (which, incidentally, was so similar to the reasons I left home as could not tell my alcoholic mother/workaholic father)...I obviously didn't know the last fact til I was pregnant and had burnt all my bridges and teenage pride...stupidly, one of the reasons I was attracted to him was because I thought he'd stop anything else evil happening to me...



It culminated in him beating me up and locking me in the car one sunny August afternoon after I'd asked for a few hours with friends instead of incessant baby care and housework - basically, even though they were all female, we were playing pool, I was 3 stone overweight, he accused me of playing around.



As we sped around the hole of the town where I grew up he told me he was going to knock me out and torch the car with me in it...



There aren't many times I've been so terrified - I did the only thing I thought I could and leapt out of the car - hey, better to kill yourself that sit by and let someone else do it. I just vaguely remember seeing out of the corner of my eye the spreading pool of blood on the road and hearing people screaming...



Fast forward a bit (I have to, I've lost months/years of detailed memories because of losing so many brain cells on the road - though, funnily enough, my dad says that's what finally knocked some sense into me - every cloud huh?)



He got it together with a younger girl (I was 18 by the time of the accident) and they had another baby. The only time I saw him cry was when that baby was born...



Before anyone starts yelling at me - this is NOT NOT NOT the karmic point (although he, the stupid bastard that he is, thought it was god's way of punishing him for being a C*nt)



She was born with Down's syndrome - and is really badly affected by it (I've got a couple of mates with Down's and you can only tell they have it by the physical characteristics - it affects different people to different degrees) and as one of the side effects had hole in her heart. Surgery to correct this caused alopecia, so little Beth is bald, she also has massive difficulties in speaking, so communicates part by speaking, part by sign language - my son (there's a 3 year age gap) learnt it, so they always got on really well - she really loves her big brother.



Anyway, the Karmic Retribution for Charlie was Beth, not because of her genetic makeup - but because she's the only woman who's ever stood up to him.



Now, Beth's perfectly able to have a conversation and know exactly what she wants, and is a loving and beautiful young lady - if you can be bothered to listen to her and learn to speak with her - but this guy's way of bringing (hauling) up the next generation is to belittle, intimidate, bully and insult them. He told me about 5 years ago he thought our son would grow up gay (as if it mattered) because he was always in clean clothes and had nice manners....



So a strong minded, 'no-shit' attitude little girl who has so far grown up to far out-weigh his 9 stone 5'6" frame seems to be just what he needed. Seeing her thwack him one in his shins when he's putting her, or someone she loves down,is quite heart warming...and it makes me love her all the more for it...



She takes no shit from him, she tells him like it is, seeing her one time tip a whole bucket of MuckDonalds fizz on his head as he was driving (his un-mot'd, un-insured car, the toss) when he was being his characteristic, knob-like self was hilarious.



She has no fear, she does not give a duck for social niceties, she's never been worried by thoughts of 'scared of being rude to my dad even though he's a bucket full of



She tells it like it is, and that is a gift, not a disability.



She's the daughter I always wanted, feisty, strong minded, perfectly intelligent, (just unable to communicate in the way than the majority of people can) The icing on the cake is that she is the only person who can let him know what a fuckwit he is - and know that he doesn't know what to make of it.



Heh, Beth rocks!



As a little p.s. my own son, Kieran finally got shot of his father about 6 weeks ago - he (nearly 15, skateboarding, guitar playing, Kurt Cobain lookalikee, friends with girls because they're people too, and doing bloody well despite having such shits for parents thus far) had a call from him, and nearly vomited when his father (sperm donor) informed him he was trying to impregnate a girl the same age as most of Kieran's friends - 18.



Kie put the phone down...thought about it...asked me and slimtallgoth's opinion...and promptly rang him back, and left the following message - you're a f*cking paedophile and if you ever come near me I'm going to rip a door off it's hinges, ram that down your throat and shove the knob up your ar$e!



I don't think Beth could have put it better herself.

( , Tue 26 Feb 2008, 0:18, I was 16, severely messed up from events I don't need to go into here, and pretty emotionally vulnerable, (not to mention very immature!) - some of the reasons I got ensnared into a bizarre underworld which, by comparison, make the shenanigans of Shameless look pretty tame...I got pregnant at 16, and, while in such a happy condition, my partner (to give you a flavour of his lovely nature) was basically shagging anything that walked, buggering off out of our flat at 6 am to go to his mum's with the only set of keys, so I was either forced to stay at home or wander the streets til he decided to come home...he spiked my tea with lsd 'for a laugh', seduced his 15 year old cousin in our flat, sided with some of his mates who'd raped a girl by holding her down in turns (which, incidentally, was so similar to the reasons I left home as could not tell my alcoholic mother/workaholic father)...I obviously didn't know the last fact til I was pregnant and had burnt all my bridges and teenage pride...stupidly, one of the reasons I was attracted to him was because I thought he'd stop anything else evil happening to me...It culminated in him beating me up and locking me in the car one sunny August afternoon after I'd asked for a few hours with friends instead of incessant baby care and housework - basically, even though they were all female, we were playing pool, I was 3 stone overweight, he accused me of playing around.As we sped around the hole of the town where I grew up he told me he was going to knock me out and torch the car with me in it...There aren't many times I've been so terrified - I did the only thing I thought I could and leapt out of the car - hey, better to kill yourself that sit by and let someone else do it. I just vaguely remember seeing out of the corner of my eye the spreading pool of blood on the road and hearing people screaming...Fast forward a bit (I have to, I've lost months/years of detailed memories because of losing so many brain cells on the road - though, funnily enough, my dad says that's what finally knocked some sense into me - every cloud huh?)He got it together with a younger girl (I was 18 by the time of the accident) and they had another baby. The only time I saw him cry was when that baby was born...Before anyone starts yelling at me - this is NOT NOT NOT the karmic point (although he, the stupid bastard that he is, thought it was god's way of punishing him for being a C*nt)She was born with Down's syndrome - and is really badly affected by it (I've got a couple of mates with Down's and you can only tell they have it by the physical characteristics - it affects different people to different degrees) and as one of the side effects had hole in her heart. Surgery to correct this caused alopecia, so little Beth is bald, she also has massive difficulties in speaking, so communicates part by speaking, part by sign language - my son (there's a 3 year age gap) learnt it, so they always got on really well - she really loves her big brother.Anyway, the Karmic Retribution for Charlie was Beth, not because of her genetic makeup - but because she's the only woman who's ever stood up to him.Now, Beth's perfectly able to have a conversation and know exactly what she wants, and is a loving and beautiful young lady - if you can be bothered to listen to her and learn to speak with her - but this guy's way of bringing (hauling) up the next generation is to belittle, intimidate, bully and insult them. He told me about 5 years ago he thought our son would grow up gay (as if it mattered) because he was always in clean clothes and had nice manners....So a strong minded, 'no-shit' attitude little girl who has so far grown up to far out-weigh his 9 stone 5'6" frame seems to be just what he needed. Seeing her thwack him one in his shins when he's putting her, or someone she loves down,is quite heart warming...and it makes me love her all the more for it...She takes no shit from him, she tells him like it is, seeing her one time tip a whole bucket of MuckDonalds fizz on his head as he was driving (his un-mot'd, un-insured car, the toss) when he was being his characteristic, knob-like self was hilarious.She has no fear, she does not give a duck for social niceties, she's never been worried by thoughts of 'scared of being rude to my dad even though he's a bucket full of [email protected] '.She tells it like it is, and that is a gift, not a disability.She's the daughter I always wanted, feisty, strong minded, perfectly intelligent, (just unable to communicate in the way than the majority of people can) The icing on the cake is that she is the only person who can let him know what a fuckwit he is - and know that he doesn't know what to make of it.Heh, Beth rocks!As a little p.s. my own son, Kieran finally got shot of his father about 6 weeks ago - he (nearly 15, skateboarding, guitar playing, Kurt Cobain lookalikee, friends with girls because they're people too, and doing bloody well despite having such shits for parents thus far) had a call from him, and nearly vomited when his father (sperm donor) informed him he was trying to impregnate a girl the same age as most of Kieran's friends - 18.Kie put the phone down...thought about it...asked me and slimtallgoth's opinion...and promptly rang him back, and left the following message - you're a f*cking paedophile and if you ever come near me I'm going to rip a door off it's hinges, ram that down your throat and shove the knob up your ar$e!I don't think Beth could have put it better herself.( , Tue 26 Feb 2008, 0:18, 18 replies

Not entirely Karma but very close

My best mate at school was a young man who has gone on to be a successful Premier League Footballer. Currently at Manchester City but previously of the mighty Aston Villa.



Anyway shortly after he established himself as a regular first team player at Villa we went out for a few drinks in Birmingham. While stood at the bar we were approached by a local gent who proceeded to berate him for his latest performance which even my mate accepted was crap. The tone of the conversation changed somewhat when this chap started complaining that the only reason he was picked was



"'cos he was a n*****".



The chap then went on to say how brilliant his son was and how he could do everything that my mate could do but he didn't get into the Villa setup cos he wasn't a n*****.



This continued for a few minutes and my normally placid buddy was getting mighty irate, with all of this my son can do that you can't crap, and all the racist bullshit that was now being aimed at him he cracked and responded with a retort that still makes me smile.



He took his wallet out of his pocket took about a £100 quid out of it and promptly set it alight with another mates lighter.



"Bet he cant do that though can he, you redneck cunt".



Hearing my god fearing mother loving chap come out with such a response left the whole of our group somewhat shocked. Not as shocked as the redneck was though.



Racist twat.



Length ? about 6 years ago.

( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 19:18, My best mate at school was a young man who has gone on to be a successful Premier League Footballer. Currently at Manchester City but previously of the mighty Aston Villa.Anyway shortly after he established himself as a regular first team player at Villa we went out for a few drinks in Birmingham. While stood at the bar we were approached by a local gent who proceeded to berate him for his latest performance which even my mate accepted was crap. The tone of the conversation changed somewhat when this chap started complaining that the only reason he was picked was"'cos he was a n*****".The chap then went on to say how brilliant his son was and how he could do everything that my mate could do but he didn't get into the Villa setup cos he wasn't a n*****.This continued for a few minutes and my normally placid buddy was getting mighty irate, with all of this my son can do that you can't crap, and all the racist bullshit that was now being aimed at him he cracked and responded with a retort that still makes me smile.He took his wallet out of his pocket took about a £100 quid out of it and promptly set it alight with another mates lighter."Bet he cant do that though can he, you redneck cunt".Hearing my god fearing mother loving chap come out with such a response left the whole of our group somewhat shocked. Not as shocked as the redneck was though.Racist twat.Length ? about 6 years ago.( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 19:18, 9 replies

Looking after a friends pet is too much of a risk

This isn't my story but I feel it needs to be shared. A mate told me of his friend's dog-sitting experience...



A family friend had asked her to look after the family pet Labrador whilst they were on holiday for a few weeks. Seeing no particular problem with this she agreed and it was arranged that she would go to their house every day to feed and walk the dog.



Everything was going smoothly until a week or so in to the dog-sitting when she was alarmed to find it had died overnight. Unwilling to bring the bad news to the family over the phone and ruin their holiday, she decided the best course of action would be to take the doggy-corpse back to her flat and hold it there until the family came home, so she loaded it up in to a suitcase and headed for the tube.



When she arrived at her stop, she found the escalator to be out of action meaning she would have to drag the Labrador suitcase up the stairs. Already feeling quite uncomfortable with the whole situation, she tried her best to carry it, declining several offers of assistance. After a while she admitted defeat and asked for help from the nearest passer by.



As they were walking up the stairs the man began to ask what she was carrying that could be so heavy. Thinking on her feet she blurted out that the suitcase contained her boyfriends DJ equipment and she was carrying it across town for a gig he had that night. At this point the not so friendly passer-by seizes the opportunity and makes off with what he thinks to be several thousand pounds worth of musical equipment. Really it was just 80lbs worth of dog.

( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 18:19, This isn't my story but I feel it needs to be shared. A mate told me of his friend's dog-sitting experience...A family friend had asked her to look after the family pet Labrador whilst they were on holiday for a few weeks. Seeing no particular problem with this she agreed and it was arranged that she would go to their house every day to feed and walk the dog.Everything was going smoothly until a week or so in to the dog-sitting when she was alarmed to find it had died overnight. Unwilling to bring the bad news to the family over the phone and ruin their holiday, she decided the best course of action would be to take the doggy-corpse back to her flat and hold it there until the family came home, so she loaded it up in to a suitcase and headed for the tube.When she arrived at her stop, she found the escalator to be out of action meaning she would have to drag the Labrador suitcase up the stairs. Already feeling quite uncomfortable with the whole situation, she tried her best to carry it, declining several offers of assistance. After a while she admitted defeat and asked for help from the nearest passer by.As they were walking up the stairs the man began to ask what she was carrying that could be so heavy. Thinking on her feet she blurted out that the suitcase contained her boyfriends DJ equipment and she was carrying it across town for a gig he had that night. At this point the not so friendly passer-by seizes the opportunity and makes off with what he thinks to be several thousand pounds worth of musical equipment. Really it was just 80lbs worth of dog.( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 18:19, 6 replies

It was a beautiful beautiful moment

Some years ago I was out of work for a while. Most of the people at the DSS were OK, punctuated by the odd cunt.



On one occasion and only one occasion I missed my signing on time, and popped in the net day, apologising for not being able to make it the previous day



Cunt: What's you excuse?



Me: Excuse!? I can tell you the reason if you like?



Cunt: Go on then.



Me: My 18 month old daughter was throwing up, I could have come in, but there would be sick everywhere.



Cunt: But you have to be available for work or interview.



Me: I am. If I had an interview I'd have arranged child care, but this was jut signing on.



Cunt: But you have to be available for work....



The cunt was in robot mode, and told me the next time my child was ill they'd stop my payments. Nice.



Anyway a few month later I'm an IT Support Manager and all is right with the world. 2 years later I'm interviewing for 4-5 new help desk people..you know what's coming.



In walks the cunt. I couldn't believe it. I actually had to make my excuses and leave the room for 5 minutes to calm down, and THANK THE LORD.



No doubt some others on here would have wreaked long winded and complicated revenge. I just explained to cunt that I was someone who'd been on the receiving end of her 'customer service skills' at the DSS and there wouldn't be a place for here. She demanded to know the details, but I told her 'I'm not going to waste my time on this' and ended the interview. All with a fucking huge grin on my face mind.



So there you have it. For those couple of minutes my universe was wonderful ordered place run by a benevolent divine power.

( , Sat 23 Feb 2008, 10:18, Some years ago I was out of work for a while. Most of the people at the DSS were OK, punctuated by the odd cunt.On one occasion and only one occasion I missed my signing on time, and popped in the net day, apologising for not being able to make it the previous dayCunt: What's you excuse?Me: Excuse!? I can tell you the reason if you like?Cunt: Go on then.Me: My 18 month old daughter was throwing up, I could have come in, but there would be sick everywhere.Cunt: But you have to be available for work or interview.Me: I am. If I had an interview I'd have arranged child care, but this was jut signing on.Cunt: But you have to be available for work....The cunt was in robot mode, and told me the next time my child was ill they'd stop my payments. Nice.Anyway a few month later I'm an IT Support Manager and all is right with the world. 2 years later I'm interviewing for 4-5 new help desk people..you know what's coming.In walks the cunt. I couldn't believe it. I actually had to make my excuses and leave the room for 5 minutes to calm down, and THANK THE LORD.No doubt some others on here would have wreaked long winded and complicated revenge. I just explained to cunt that I was someone who'd been on the receiving end of her 'customer service skills' at the DSS and there wouldn't be a place for here. She demanded to know the details, but I told her 'I'm not going to waste my time on this' and ended the interview. All with a fucking huge grin on my face mind.So there you have it. For those couple of minutes my universe was wonderful ordered place run by a benevolent divine power.( , Sat 23 Feb 2008, 10:18, 6 replies

bullying chicken

My family used to keep chickens, and there was one rooster who was a terrible bully, always pecking the others and harassing them. But karma got him in the end. The other chickens staged a coop.

( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 23:19, My family used to keep chickens, and there was one rooster who was a terrible bully, always pecking the others and harassing them. But karma got him in the end. The other chickens staged a coop.( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 23:19, 5 replies

I think I have finally come around

I got married early and had a reasonable job (working with Doctor When) with reasonable money, our own place (rented) and a rock club at the end of the road (XLs in Edgbaston). Every few months we'd get a performance related bonus of a few hundred quid (back mid-90s it was good money) every four months and life was sweet.



Then my ex fell out with her boss and the income dropped. She couldn't find another job and as we were just above the benefit line, we got no help. I changed jobs for a percieved improvement in pay but lost the job as it was a contract and they didn't need to give me any notice.



The only job I could find was at my dad's engineering firm so ended up working 12-hour shifts from 6pm till 6am, back breaking work although it did improve my upper body strength...



Then her mum became ill with Motor Neurone disease (like what Stephen Hawking has) and we moved down to Cornwall to look after her. She died very quickly and as it was where she grew up, my wife of the time didn't want to move back up to Birmingham.



I couldn't get a job anywhere- all the electronics industry was miles away and I had no car to get there. To get a job in the deep SW at the time you needed to be in the tourism industry or self-employed tradesman. We were stuck both living with her parents. Eventually the only place I could get a job was at Flambards' theme park for the summer season, and for a pittance.



The people were mainly pleasant but I was cooking in the SW sun all day and my eyes felt like they were hot gritty marbles because we weren't allowed to wear sunglasses. Eventually a company relocated to the town and I got a job in electronics again, assembling equipment. Not great, but I learned stuff and the people there were generally nice, including my best mate down in Cornwall who I still keep in contact with 11 years later.



However we were under threat of eviction from my wife's dad who, at the time, turned nasty after his wife had died and was making a grab for all the money she saved while he spent all of his. My daughter was born at this time and he was persuaded by the wife's older brother to let us stay while paying rent but he got us out eventually, sold her childhood home and pocketed the cash after burning his wife's will which left the house to my wife.



We rented a place in town but the wife was sufferring from all the stress and developed two auto-immune diseases triggered by the hassle. She was in hospital and almost died.



Eventually we managed to get a place of our own on an affordable mortgage for part-own through a housing association and wrote her dad out of our lives. But all the stress and pain caused my ex to lash out on the only person she felt would put up with it- me. I for my part had become sullen and withdrawn and unresponsive which made her madder. I played my part in the downward spiral of destruction. Hands up.



By the time my daughter was four I'd been through years of hostility, anger and frustration and our relationship was torpedoed. I moved out and lived in a pitiful bedsit earning toss-all money and having to live on beans and sausages on toast- 1 meal cost about 30p - to pay for rent and the mortgage on my daughters' place.



I had to get a better job to be able to afford my divorce and the only option was contracting up in Cheshire- but it was 350 miles away from my daughter. For three weeks out of four I'd try to come down to Cornwall with a car given to me by my dad (a huge Volvo estate) and do the 700-mile round trip to see her. I was exhausted permanently but gaining experience and had some peace during the week. Me and my wife got divorced amid the usual acrimony but because I was coming to see my daughter every fortnight she let me (and still does) crash on the sofabed so we learned to mainly get on, if very uncomfortably, with the occasional fall-out.



Then that contract came to an end and I was out of work for three months, during which timke the lease terms on my new car meant I owed £1000 and they reposessed it, screwing over my credit record for years to come.



I had to move back in with my folks, and anyone who has moved abck in with their parents will know it's hardly ideal and causes friction. I was driving 90 miles a day, 5 days a week to get to work and celebrated my 30th birthday with no money at all. Miserable.



The new job was closer than Cheshire so my trips to see my daughter became bi-weekly plus holiday time in the summer, easter and christmas. I was on a lower wage but respectable- I cruised for a few years doing this while the company that employed me contracted me out to a car maker in the West Midlands for more and more each year based on my growing exp[erience and skills but passed on very little of their increase. I started getting depressed and took days off for being ill- this came and went on-and-off for years.



The turning point came when I moved in with friends from work- we had a shared house and the social suport of having friends to come home to after work instead of a silent house and the cheap cider. I cheered right up, even with the occasional relapse.



I then tried to leave my company and go to work for the bigger client direct but I was backstabbed and prevented and found myself in a hellhole role which plunged me back into despair.



After a year I started looking in earnest for another job and found one working out in Peterborough- a 140 mile round trip but in a calm, clean, decent position, but boring- I had been so hyped up for difficult work I found this well-paid sedentary work difficult to adapt to- then I got a call from a manager I used to work for briefly a few years before- he had a role to fill and would I like to come and talk to him about it?



I went to see that fellow and came away determined to go there. After giving a months' notice I went. I had to drop a couple of pounds an hour pay but the job was the best....



Now my ex is calmer, happier and my daughter is 11 and relatively well adjusted, all things considered. I still come down every fortnight but now I often get to borrow a car from the work development fleet of prototypes (for which they pay for the fuel) and I'm getting paid enough to be able to treat my daughter and even my ex occasionally. I'm happy in my job and am privelidged to be able to drive the cars. Karma has paid me back in spades.



(Oh, I now work at Aston Martin BTW... nothing cheers up a bod than a weekend with a DB9 or a Vantage, unlimited petrol and 700 miles of driving a posh car)



/apologies for length

( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 19:31, I got married early and had a reasonable job (working with Doctor When) with reasonable money, our own place (rented) and a rock club at the end of the road (XLs in Edgbaston). Every few months we'd get a performance related bonus of a few hundred quid (back mid-90s it was good money) every four months and life was sweet.Then my ex fell out with her boss and the income dropped. She couldn't find another job and as we were just above the benefit line, we got no help. I changed jobs for a percieved improvement in pay but lost the job as it was a contract and they didn't need to give me any notice.The only job I could find was at my dad's engineering firm so ended up working 12-hour shifts from 6pm till 6am, back breaking work although it did improve my upper body strength...Then her mum became ill with Motor Neurone disease (like what Stephen Hawking has) and we moved down to Cornwall to look after her. She died very quickly and as it was where she grew up, my wife of the time didn't want to move back up to Birmingham.I couldn't get a job anywhere- all the electronics industry was miles away and I had no car to get there. To get a job in the deep SW at the time you needed to be in the tourism industry or self-employed tradesman. We were stuck both living with her parents. Eventually the only place I could get a job was at Flambards' theme park for the summer season, and for a pittance.The people were mainly pleasant but I was cooking in the SW sun all day and my eyes felt like they were hot gritty marbles because we weren't allowed to wear sunglasses. Eventually a company relocated to the town and I got a job in electronics again, assembling equipment. Not great, but I learned stuff and the people there were generally nice, including my best mate down in Cornwall who I still keep in contact with 11 years later.However we were under threat of eviction from my wife's dad who, at the time, turned nasty after his wife had died and was making a grab for all the money she saved while he spent all of his. My daughter was born at this time and he was persuaded by the wife's older brother to let us stay while paying rent but he got us out eventually, sold her childhood home and pocketed the cash after burning his wife's will which left the house to my wife.We rented a place in town but the wife was sufferring from all the stress and developed two auto-immune diseases triggered by the hassle. She was in hospital and almost died.Eventually we managed to get a place of our own on an affordable mortgage for part-own through a housing association and wrote her dad out of our lives. But all the stress and pain caused my ex to lash out on the only person she felt would put up with it- me. I for my part had become sullen and withdrawn and unresponsive which made her madder. I played my part in the downward spiral of destruction. Hands up.By the time my daughter was four I'd been through years of hostility, anger and frustration and our relationship was torpedoed. I moved out and lived in a pitiful bedsit earning toss-all money and having to live on beans and sausages on toast- 1 meal cost about 30p - to pay for rent and the mortgage on my daughters' place.I had to get a better job to be able to afford my divorce and the only option was contracting up in Cheshire- but it was 350 miles away from my daughter. For three weeks out of four I'd try to come down to Cornwall with a car given to me by my dad (a huge Volvo estate) and do the 700-mile round trip to see her. I was exhausted permanently but gaining experience and had some peace during the week. Me and my wife got divorced amid the usual acrimony but because I was coming to see my daughter every fortnight she let me (and still does) crash on the sofabed so we learned to mainly get on, if very uncomfortably, with the occasional fall-out.Then that contract came to an end and I was out of work for three months, during which timke the lease terms on my new car meant I owed £1000 and they reposessed it, screwing over my credit record for years to come.I had to move back in with my folks, and anyone who has moved abck in with their parents will know it's hardly ideal and causes friction. I was driving 90 miles a day, 5 days a week to get to work and celebrated my 30th birthday with no money at all. Miserable.The new job was closer than Cheshire so my trips to see my daughter became bi-weekly plus holiday time in the summer, easter and christmas. I was on a lower wage but respectable- I cruised for a few years doing this while the company that employed me contracted me out to a car maker in the West Midlands for more and more each year based on my growing exp[erience and skills but passed on very little of their increase. I started getting depressed and took days off for being ill- this came and went on-and-off for years.The turning point came when I moved in with friends from work- we had a shared house and the social suport of having friends to come home to after work instead of a silent house and the cheap cider. I cheered right up, even with the occasional relapse.I then tried to leave my company and go to work for the bigger client direct but I was backstabbed and prevented and found myself in a hellhole role which plunged me back into despair.After a year I started looking in earnest for another job and found one working out in Peterborough- a 140 mile round trip but in a calm, clean, decent position, but boring- I had been so hyped up for difficult work I found this well-paid sedentary work difficult to adapt to- then I got a call from a manager I used to work for briefly a few years before- he had a role to fill and would I like to come and talk to him about it?I went to see that fellow and came away determined to go there. After giving a months' notice I went. I had to drop a couple of pounds an hour pay but the job was the best....Now my ex is calmer, happier and my daughter is 11 and relatively well adjusted, all things considered. I still come down every fortnight but now I often get to borrow a car from the work development fleet of prototypes (for which they pay for the fuel) and I'm getting paid enough to be able to treat my daughter and even my ex occasionally. I'm happy in my job and am privelidged to be able to drive the cars. Karma has paid me back in spades.(Oh, I now work at Aston Martin BTW... nothing cheers up a bod than a weekend with a DB9 or a Vantage, unlimited petrol and 700 miles of driving a posh car)/apologies for length( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 19:31, 8 replies

Have a look on Friends Reunited

And that'll disabuse you of any delusions that karma could exist. For example:



1) Nobby Smith - the school bully who kicked you in the knackers and stole your sandwiches almost every day. He failed all of his GCSEs and got arrested for GBH. Now he's happily married with kids and has his own carpentry business earning more than you.



2) Vincent Bodkin - brainy kid whose parents were both university professors. He was bullied mercilessly for years on account of his large head and thick specs and went on to get five As at a level. Now he's dead - cancer of the colon aged 31.



3) 'Chip-pan' Katy - daughter of unemployed scumbags, she was a slag who'd toss off anyone for a Curly Wurly and who got pregnant aged 14 by a man she met outside a pub. Expelled for sniffing glue. Now she's a lottery winner living in Mauritius.



4) Bruce Legover - handsome but utterly ignorant football player with the charm and presence of a fart. Treated girls like shite and bullied boys who didn't line up to be on the team. Now playing for Man United on £100, 000 a week.



Fuck karma.

( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 15:03, And that'll disabuse you of any delusions that karma could exist. For example:1) Nobby Smith - the school bully who kicked you in the knackers and stole your sandwiches almost every day. He failed all of his GCSEs and got arrested for GBH. Now he's happily married with kids and has his own carpentry business earning more than you.2) Vincent Bodkin - brainy kid whose parents were both university professors. He was bullied mercilessly for years on account of his large head and thick specs and went on to get five As at a level. Now he's dead - cancer of the colon aged 31.3) 'Chip-pan' Katy - daughter of unemployed scumbags, she was a slag who'd toss off anyone for a Curly Wurly and who got pregnant aged 14 by a man she met outside a pub. Expelled for sniffing glue. Now she's a lottery winner living in Mauritius.4) Bruce Legover - handsome but utterly ignorant football player with the charm and presence of a fart. Treated girls like shite and bullied boys who didn't line up to be on the team. Now playing for Man United on £100, 000 a week.Fuck karma.( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 15:03, 9 replies

I HAVE A WINNER !!!!!!!!!

Prince set for 'secret hip replacement'



The Age Melbourne - February 26, 2008 - 10:17AM



Fingers crossed... pop star Prince reportedly requires hip replacement surgery.

Pop singer Prince - who released his first album in 1978 - is being forced to undergo the surgery at just 49-years-old after suffering excruciating pain as a result of years of blistering performances.



A source told Britain's News of the World newspaper: "For months Prince, who always puts on the most energetic shows, has been complaining of pain every time he moves.



"He is totally crushed because he knows he will never be the same again."



The surgery will involve removing the ball and socket of Prince's damaged hip and replacing it with a titanium joint.



What with all the fuss about the Purple Pain a few weeks ago, I thought B3ta should be the first to know . . .



I shouldn't giggle, but man - *that's* karma . . .

( , Tue 26 Feb 2008, 8:01, Prince set for 'secret hip replacement'The Age Melbourne - February 26, 2008 - 10:17AMFingers crossed... pop star Prince reportedly requires hip replacement surgery.Pop singer Prince - who released his first album in 1978 - is being forced to undergo the surgery at just 49-years-old after suffering excruciating pain as a result of years of blistering performances.A source told Britain's News of the World newspaper: "For months Prince, who always puts on the most energetic shows, has been complaining of pain every time he moves."He is totally crushed because he knows he will never be the same again."The surgery will involve removing the ball and socket of Prince's damaged hip and replacing it with a titanium joint.What with all the fuss about the Purple Pain a few weeks ago, I thought B3ta should be the first to know . . .I shouldn't giggle, but man - *that's* karma . . .( , Tue 26 Feb 2008, 8:01, 5 replies

Instant Karma, just add idiot

This only happened last weekend, I went down to MotorWorld with my brother as he was looking to buy a car stereo with all the bells and whistles.



He found one, that had bluetooth on it and in his infinite wisdom decided to scrap CD's and continue playing his awful R 'n' B from his phone, through his huge boom box via bluetooth.



Now, the thing with my brother is he is a bit* of a slag, i mean he usually has 3-4 girls in his company, and he'll sleep with one until she gets boring and then move on to the next and then repeat the whole process and the poor naive young girls have no idea what hes up to!



well one of the cooler features of his stereo is the option to put a call through your speakers via bluetooth and my brother was giving one of his girls a 125 point inspection when his phone rings and is automatically put through to the stereo! (your supposed to accept the call but somehow it happened automatically, i suspect this was karma playing its part)



and who is on the other end? one of the other girlfriends, and when his current girlfriend heres the call coming through the sub she starts yelling and demanding who it is etc..etc, but of course the girl who had phoned him can now hear this girl who is in the car and she starts yelling and demanding and then she hangs up and the girl in the car gets out...without her knickers she had left them in the passenger footwell and stormed out,



unfazed my brother puts said knickers in the glove compartment of the car and drives around to another of his girlfriends houses to sate his sexual frustration. She gets in the car and asks if she can put a CD on he agrees and she opens the glove compartment to get a CD.....



you couldn't make this kind of crap up.



*Bit, is a little bit of an understatement on a par with saying Hitler was a bit disturbed

( , Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:45, This only happened last weekend, I went down to MotorWorld with my brother as he was looking to buy a car stereo with all the bells and whistles.He found one, that had bluetooth on it and in his infinite wisdom decided to scrap CD's and continue playing his awful R 'n' B from his phone, through his huge boom box via bluetooth.Now, the thing with my brother is he is a bit* of a slag, i mean he usually has 3-4 girls in his company, and he'll sleep with one until she gets boring and then move on to the next and then repeat the whole process and the poor naive young girls have no idea what hes up to!well one of the cooler features of his stereo is the option to put a call through your speakers via bluetooth and my brother was giving one of his girls a 125 point inspection when his phone rings and isput through to the stereo! (your supposed to accept the call but somehow it happened automatically, i suspect this was karma playing its part)and who is on the other end? one of the other girlfriends, and when his current girlfriend heres the call coming through the sub she starts yelling and demanding who it is etc..etc, but of course the girl who had phoned him can now hear this girl who is in the car and she starts yelling and demanding and then she hangs up and the girl in the car gets out...without her knickers she had left them in the passenger footwell and stormed out,unfazed my brother puts said knickers in the glove compartment of the car and drives around to another of his girlfriends houses to sate his sexual frustration. She gets in the car and asks if she can put a CD on he agrees and she opens the glove compartment to get a CD.....you couldn't make this kind of crap up.( , Fri 22 Feb 2008, 12:45, Reply

Icy Goodness

One cold and snowy day, I was amongst a bunch of commuters walking out of Marylebone Station in London - the forecourt was covered with a sheet of ice and it was extremely tricky to find a way across. Subsequently, we were all picking our way very slowly and probably looking like a selection of mongs.



Some twunt in a pin-striped suit (there's a lot of 'em here) was obviously pissed off with our tremulous progress and pushed past, shouting, "Excuse me!" and tutting loudly.



Rather predictably (although not to him, obviously) his doom was close at hand. The ice and his speed combined to make him slip in the best way I have ever seen anyone do it - both legs raised high up in the air, where he seemed to hang for a delicious amount of time, before smacking down very heavily onto his arse.



I am proud of my fellow commuters - they joined me in pointing at him and laughing in a loud and prolonged manner (no mean feat when also trying to maintain one's balance).



Watching him slip over again when trying to stand up served only to increase our joy.

( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:16, One cold and snowy day, I was amongst a bunch of commuters walking out of Marylebone Station in London - the forecourt was covered with a sheet of ice and it was extremely tricky to find a way across. Subsequently, we were all picking our way very slowly and probably looking like a selection of mongs.Some twunt in a pin-striped suit (there's a lot of 'em here) was obviously pissed off with our tremulous progress and pushed past, shouting, "Excuse me!" and tutting loudly.Rather predictably (although not to him, obviously) his doom was close at hand. The ice and his speed combined to make him slip in the best way I have ever seen anyone do it - both legs raised high up in the air, where he seemed to hang for a delicious amount of time, before smacking down very heavily onto his arse.I am proud of my fellow commuters - they joined me in pointing at him and laughing in a loud and prolonged manner (no mean feat when also trying to maintain one's balance).Watching him slip over again when trying to stand up served only to increase our joy.( , Thu 21 Feb 2008, 17:16, 1 reply

Karma's a bitch

I've been lurking for years now, and only recently realised that I've had story for nearly every QOTW so far. So I'm finally IN.



So I left the girlfriend's place early one morning after getting in late and it'd been raining. As I stepped over the gutter I noticed a worm wriggling about in the stream.

Feeling sorry, I lifted it out with a key and carefully put it down on the grass footpath.

As I look up I see a glowing AUD$50 note on the road. I run over and claim my Karmic prize. As I cross the road to my car, I see another worm in the opposite gutter. "What the hell" I think, and lift him to his muddy salvation with his mate. As I turned to go back to the car, something caught my eye. Another $50 note on the road. "Score" thought I, doing a short dance. "This could turn into a very profitable enterprise." I spend the next 10 minutes scouring the gutters for more stray annelids, notes in hand but alas none are found. "Oh well, maybe I've done my Karmic duty for the day and received due reward, fair 'nuff" I think as I open my wallet to store said currency until it can be spent on boiled sweets and soda pop. As I stood there, in the rain, trying to figure out where the two $50 notes I had withdrawn the night before had gone, I'd swear I could hear some kind of ghostly laughing...

( , Tue 26 Feb 2008, 13:48, I've been lurking for years now, and only recently realised that I've had story for nearly every QOTW so far. So I'm finally IN.So I left the girlfriend's place early one morning after getting in late and it'd been raining. As I stepped over the gutter I noticed a worm wriggling about in the stream.Feeling sorry, I lifted it out with a key and carefully put it down on the grass footpath.As I look up I see a glowing AUD$50 note on the road. I run over and claim my Karmic prize. As I cross the road to my car, I see another worm in the opposite gutter. "What the hell" I think, and lift him to his muddy salvation with his mate. As I turned to go back to the car, something caught my eye. Another $50 note on the road. "Score" thought I, doing a short dance. "This could turn into a very profitable enterprise." I spend the next 10 minutes scouring the gutters for more stray annelids, notes in hand but alas none are found. "Oh well, maybe I've done my Karmic duty for the day and received due reward, fair 'nuff" I think as I open my wallet to store said currency until it can be spent on boiled sweets and soda pop. As I stood there, in the rain, trying to figure out where the two $50 notes I had withdrawn the night before had gone, I'd swear I could hear some kind of ghostly laughing...( , Tue 26 Feb 2008, 13:48, 4 replies

Karma is the best teacher

The house that I grew up in backed onto an old stately home which was owned by the council. During the time we lived at that house the stately home went through many various uses. At one time it was a hospice, then an old people’s home and then, for about three years, was a day centre for the handicapped. I was about 10 at this time – my brother was about 18.



Everyday the kids and adults would arrive in their yellow bus and spend the day playing games and learning life skills with their friends. During the summer I would often jump over my fence and play football with the more able bodied. Once in the winter we had a massive snow fight. I became friendly with a lot of them (and still am) and was allowed to join in the games and help the care workers. They may have had a tough break in life but they were lovely people with the biggest hearts I have ever known.



My brother on the other hand was a complete cunt to them.



At every possible occasion he would gleefully shout out spastics, window lickers etc. He would spend his days finding new and inventive ways to upset them for his own enjoyment. It started off with verbal abuse but it finished quite seriously. Once – around Guy Fawkes – he through a load of bangers