» Hidden Treasure

clag-nuts-delight
I was around the age of 14 that I grew my first pubic hair. I lead a sheltered childhood, and as the concept of HAIR in wierd places was asociated with dirtyness, I thought it was nasty: so I used to shave it all off. Yes, you can laugh, but noone had told me I was supposed to get hairy there.

Anyhow... I had never even THOUGHT that my arse was going to get hairy. It never got shaved, and I never adapted my wiping style.

Enter "The Attack Of The Clagnuts". Being a Lad of regular diet, and being a lad of habit, My wiping style had sufficed for many years, but my arse was NEVER prepared for the combination of good fiberous stoolage, coupled with the velcrocity of anal hair. Richard O'Brian has been heard to utter confessions of jealousy regarding the lucious density of the afore-mentioned pubic garden...
Moving on Swiftly... My displeasure grew with time. Remeber at school when you grew Copper Sulphate Crystals around a tampon string? Well, it was something along those lines.

It took a year before I investigated the source of my iritation. no less than four serious clag-nuts.... each only the size of a pea, but hard and calcified, and causing blisters with the level of irritation that they had yeilded.

I duly removed them, and from sheer morbid curiosity, kept them with my cufflinks.

Now my un-witting Ex-Fiance wears them as a necklace under the dillusion that they are rare evidence of the existance of a specific type of australian bat.

Nicloa, You're wearing a Teenager's calcified clagnuts around your neck.

OWNED.
(Fri 1st Jul 2005, 3:41, More)

» Conversation Killers

I have very broken insides (the poo making bit)...
Which mean that I have to take steroids, lots, but to minimise the side effects and make sure they get to the area they need to treats they go up rather than down, if you catch my drift.

So anyway for a reason that I don't still fathom I left some of my bum pills (http://www.netdoctor.co.uk/medicines/100003522.html) on my desk. My colleague, who we shall call Mark for that is his name, found them:

Mark: What the fuck are these?
Me: What does it say on them?
Mark: [reads packaging]
Me: Ah, those would be my little waxy torpedoes of anal steroid fun!
Entire office: [Silence][tumbleweed][church bell]
(Thu 12th May 2011, 19:08, More)

» We have to talk

Damned right we needed to talk!
We were due to get married on the 2nd of august 2003. The below happened on 30th of June 2003. Yes, that is less than 5 weeks before the wedding. Yes everything was paid for.
I’d been concerned that something wasn’t right, but despite the insistence from me that we talk, she was all ‘ no no it’s all cool, still love you etc, still want to be mrsOg, still want your babies’. So why was she on the phone in the middle of the night?
Turns out she needed to talk, but not to me, to a school friend of mine who it appears was coming up on the weekends that I was working, and spending time at my house, in my shower, in my bed, with my fiancée. Bastard
When I woke up in the morning, something made me check her phone, and the messages that were on there coupled with the call history told me all I needed to know. I woke her up with a ‘we need to talk’ and she still insisted there was nothing wrong.
Long story short, I kicked her out, wedding off, bought her out the house. Cost me thick end of £30k for the lot but worth every penny.
Epilogue.
For a while I kept in contact with this so called mate, and warned him what he was getting himself into. For in the few months after this while I was single, I realised what a selfish manipulative cheating slapper she was.
One day I called him and told him that we needed to talk. I told him that, some years previously, she had got pregnant after telling me that she was on the pill but wasn’t taking it, then having an abortion against my wishes. He thought this was me shit stirring.
Anyway, their kid is 2 and a half now (do the maths, she didn’t hang about) now, and they are getting married this summer, and he doesn’t really want to so I understand.
Mmmm Karma
Click ‘I like this’ if you want to come to my wedding this summer. This one isn’t cheating, is better in bed, and is generally all round cool...
(Sun 22nd Apr 2007, 13:30, More)

» Desperate Times

A few months without my leg over at uni
And Fat Sarah was coming on to me.

I'll not describe the rest, i'm sure you can imagine.

Anyway doing the deed - she says 'can i go on top. My response wasn't the most delicate...

"Better not love, you know, best be on the safe side".
(Fri 16th Nov 2007, 17:41, More)

» When animals attack...

Everyone who has a cat...
...will have experienced that moment when your cat turns in to a foot-killing machine.

You know the one, grab foot with front paws, kick wildly with back paws, and chomp at toes with excruciatingly sharp teeth.

One night, went for a piddle after an evening on the lash. It being my house and only the missus in I neither switched on the light nor donned any clothes.

Got to loo
Piddled
walking back from loo when the cat pounced. The bitch had been hiding under the bed waiting for me to come back. As I walked past the bed I was totally unaware of the twitching, wide eyed killer, poised ready to eat foot.

*Pounce*
*screamed like a girl*
*shat (almost)* (well I didn't know what it was did I?)
*missus screams as she wakes up without a clue as to what is going on*

then I fell. (beer induced, lost a foot to the cat, dark, nekked)

Result:
1 x black eye (Wardrobe handle)
1 x sprained elbow
1 x sprained ankle
1 x missing fingernail (god knows how that happened)

The evil cat stayed hanging on to the foot until I kicked so violently she flew across the room.

Cat now sleeps outside.

No apologies for length, girth, bend or flavour - the ladies love it...
(Thu 2nd Jun 2005, 15:51, More)