» Unexpected Nudity

Am Dram, Thank you Mam
Ah, amateur dramatics. Truly a delight, no?

Anyway, my Amdram group were doing a production of one of my favourite Shakespeare plays, A Midsummer Night's Dream. The director was fond of the local church (don't ask, he's quite pretentious and didn't understand the concept of acoustics) and we were billed for two nights and a matinee.

I was recovering from Mystery Illness #1 so I had requested a smaller part, and had managed to land myself the part of Francis Flute. Now, I had the interesting task of being a woman who was playing a man who in turn was playing a woman. I also had to, as my charming fellow actors put it, "do something about those massive tits of yours". So I bought a men's white shirt in size XL. It did the trick nicely; although it was obvious I did have breasts, it didn't look too silly.

Until the last night. My scene was to play Thisbe in the play-within-a-play, and find my beloved Pyramus, played by my dear friend Andy, lying dead. In rehearsal, we'd devised that I would sit astride Andy in a comical 'in-flagrante-delicto' pose and move up and down with my sobbing, thus giving the crowd a bit of a laugh. I was then supposed to rip open my WAISTCOAT and stab myself with a rubber sword.

Yep, you guessed it. Right in front of my Mum and Dad, my little brother, my grandparents, several old friends from school who brought their friends, the church warden, the staff, my boyfriend, my boyfriend's parents and (allegedly) a talent scout from another group, I snuck my fingers into the gap between the cloth and ripped not only the waistcoat and the shirt, but my (stupid cheap) bra. Clean in half.

Not realising what I'd done, and just taking the crowd's reaction as vague humour at the sight of a woman with drawn-on stubble sitting astride a 'dead' man, I continued my little speech, wondering why Andy was whispering: "Nectar....Nectar...Nectar!"

The piece de resistance of the act was for me to 'die' and deposit myself breast-first into Andy's face. And it was at that moment that I realised I was a bit colder than usual. Poor Andy - he might have had a fun night if it had been just him and me, but now the whole of Branksome was involved. Thank God someone had the sense to drop the lights so I could scramble off and re-assemble myself with a safety pin.

Believe it or not, I have outdone myself since, but I may save that story.

Apologies for length - it's about 38 round the ribcage.
(Tue 2nd Jun 2009, 10:35, More)

» Public Sex

Tramp Sex
Fellow QOTW-virgin Lampito has undone what 12 months of drinking and cynicism did to me - made me remember my ex-boyfriend, and a blunderful occurence of public secks from a few years back.

He lived in quite a nice area near the harbour, and had the fortune to have a massive back garden. It had enough room for two goalposts, two BBQs, a swing set, a climbing frame, the guinea pig hutch and the crowning glory: a twelve-foot trampoline.

At this point we were foreplaying it up in his room when all of a sudden we both looked out of the window, and obviously got the same idea (fools seldom differ, eh?). The fences around his garden were big enough not to traumatise the neighbours and I was wearing a big flowy summer dress, so holding each others' hand and giggling like schoolkids we headed for the trampoline.

Missionary first, which was fine and dandy and a lot more comfy than your average bedroom floor, then he insisted I get on top. Here you can almost see it going wrong.

It woud have been fine if the little shit hadn't decided that what I needed was a 'helping hand' and walloped the trampoline with his arms "to help me bounce better". I practically shot off of his crotch like a rocket, arced gracefully over the side of the trampoline and landed clear on my back right next to the guinea pigs, legs in the air.

I was obviously in a lot of pain and sat there crying a bit, while the bastard rolled around laughing. I think for me that was the beginning of the end there, I did start to hate him soon afterwards (didn't stop me shagging him though. Stupid, stupid Nectar.)

Appy polly logies for length - it's my first time.
(Wed 29th Apr 2009, 11:18, More)

» Impulse buys

TRUTS
I love my boyfriend Dante very much, however like most males whose company I attract it is believed that he has a couple of parts of his internal head-sponge missing.

Now we're both fairly generous people: if I am your friend, you're in for a treat on your birthday because I tend to spend time and money on getting you a thoughtful, sentimental and appropriate gift. So does Dante. So imagine Christmas, Valentine's Day, anniversaries or anything that could involve simultaneously giving each other gifts.

It was Valentine's Day last year, and I was searching for the perfect gift. I had my eye on a nice camera: a decent make, good amount of mpxs, and a nice shiny red; his favourite colour.

I bought the camera, insured it for a year (I know what he's like with fragile equipment) and toddled off, safe in the knowledge that I was probably a pretty good girlfriend.

And then he goes and buys this (or rather, these):





Say hello to Soupy (top) and George (bottom), the impulse buy of the decade.

He was allegedly full of ideas as to what to get me, but when he drove past the local aquatics centre he couldn't resist going straight in there and ordering two baby African Sideneck turtles, ready for me to pick out myself.

He knew I loved turtles; I can honestly say I don't think I'd have ever got them as pets if he hadn't bought me them. I love them with all my heart, and in turn they love food, shiny objects and a warm, dark slipper to tuck themselves into.

Dante did love his camera very much, although bugger knows where it is now (his house ate it).

Length? George is a fat turtle now.
(Fri 22nd May 2009, 16:31, More)

» Bullies

My Ex was a Bully
I have had two major bullies in my short life so far: one was the slutty girl in middle school (true sluts start at a young age) and the other was my ex-boyfriend.

He was no Mr T: in fact, he was a good two/three inches shorter than me. But he was an ex-boxer; in bantamweight (I think that's between mid- and heavy-, correct me if I'm wrong). It wasn't professional by any means, but he ended up getting banned from the club on account of the street fights he used to get into.

When I met him he was nice enough....had a bit of a rep as a "Ladies Man" (oh how I laugh bitterly at that now) but otherwise all our friends thought he was a good guy.

Then about six months in it went tits-up. Just little things, such as turning up at my house demanding sex and then fucking off afterwards to go beat up some kids, before turning up again, shagging me again as an encore and then promptly going to sleep.

Not so bad? OK yes, I admit it wasn't nice. But then came the cheating. He blurted out one night (during sex I might add) that he'd slept with his best friend. MALE best friend. And this from a self-confessed homophobe. When I demanded the truth, he just kept repeating "I don't kiss and tell." Until I shouted "YOU FUCKING TELL ME". Which he did.

Only to tell me a week later that he'd "got his dates mixed up" and had actually shagged his mate a month before we got together. Of course I was still going through the kind of emotional causeway that you go through when your lover cheats, to which he responded "Yeah well you're just dragging it out for sympathy" and "Stop resenting me for something I haven't done".

At the time I was also having trouble with my periods: namely that they hadn't started. Long and short of it was that the doctors INCORRECTLY told me I couldn't have kids, full stop. (LONG STORY.) His response when I finally plucked up the courage to tell him? "So why are we still using condoms?"

Then came the blatant, obvious cheating, the verbal abuse, the put-downs in front of friends to the point where they would dread going out with us because I would always end up crying. Whenever I finally plucked up the courage and stood up to his put-downs, it'd be "Quit your bitching, bitch." Even in front of my parents.

So I stopped sleeping with him, on the grounds that I couldn't bring myself to sleep with someone I hated. When he realised I was withholding it deliberately, he waited until I fell asleep and then forced me. Several occasions holding a pillow or his hands over my face, and once threatening to break my arm because I was banging my fist on the wall, hoping to alert my parents. My current boyfriend hit the fucking roof when I told him this, and told me it constitutes rape. I don't know if it does or not. I haven't really been able to bear thinking about it.

He dumped me by answerphone after about a year and a half, a week before my 18th. He then came crawling back a few weeks later, after hearing that I was getting better offers and had been on a few dates. Being the complete fucking airhead I was I took him back, believing his promises that it'd be better.

A few months later and I finished with him. Boy, did he not see that coming. A week later he was nearly killed in a car accident, and pulled the "It made me realise how much you mean to me". He even went to my current boyfriend's house, begging them to help get me back; Dante (current boyf) refused but his stupid at-the-time-girlfriend took pity on the bastard and tried to help convince me to give him another chance.

That was well over two years ago. I've been with Dante two years, and I'd like to say I got over it but I never did. I'm much better now of course, but I used to live in sheer terror. I defy anyone who says they could get over that. I like to think it made me stronger person: not a BETTER person, I genuinely don't like my sheer hatred of him, I think I'm more bitter and it does cause the odd problem with Dante, which I hate myself for.

I'm not fishing for sympathy - I just want to say that if this sounds at all familiar to something you're going through now, GET THE FUCK OUT. Don't even stop to deliberate.

Apologies for massive length and dour seriousness. More silly maybe next QOTW.

PS: He's now jobless, kicked out of his house, lost his driver's license for 18 months and had to sell his beloved car AND bike, has contracted chlamydia, has been rejected from the Army and can't join the Navy. And still I don't think this is vengeance enough.
(Mon 18th May 2009, 13:10, More)

» I'm glad nobody saw me

Back Pain
I had a herniated disc in my back a few years ago, and as I'm sure anyone else who had one knows it is incredibly painful and led to somewhat embarrassing situations (such as having to be helped off of the toilet etc).

It doesn't bother me so much any more, but occasionally I feel a twinge in my upper back. Luckily my other half is often there to alleviate the pressure with a swift bearhug, which is probably not very good for my spine in the long term. But I digress.

I used to work in a convenience store with a small outside warehouse which had a little concrete ramp leading back into the store. By the side of the ramp was a railing, about three feet high or so. You can probably see what's coming. During an afternoon I was loading stock onto a trolley when I felt the familiar twinge between the shoulder-blades. I spied the railing and realised that if I braced my hips and bent over it backwards, I could probably snap my back and alleviate the pressure.

So I approached the bar, got into a squat and leaned back. Nothing happened so I leant a bit further. A bit more. Then a bit more, until I was tottering on tiptoe. I was fine until I stupidly flung my head back to get my neck to align with my spine, wherein I arced gracefully over the slippery bar like a pole-vaulter, and with a cry I fell backwards into a heap on top of some wet cardboard boxes.

Miraculously, I had only slipped backwards into the mulch rather than cracking my skull open and the main victim was my backside. I lay there for a few minutes, feeling a bit sorry for my stupid self, before getting up and continuing with my work.

Thankfully nobody saw, but if they had it'd have served me right.
(Thu 3rd Feb 2011, 11:40, More)