» Helicopter Parents

I Was Going To Post A Funny Story About My Parents...
But my mother won't let me. She thinks this site is corrupting my innocence.
(Thu 10th Sep 2009, 19:39, More)

» God

Priests.
Catholic priests in particular.

This is not funny in the slightest, and quite long. You've been warned.

My whole family on my mums side is pretty strongly catholic. My step-dad is very strongly not. Obviously this is cause for quite a few conflicts in the house, the most common of which is catholic priests. According to my step-dad, they're all weirdy, dress-wearing paedos. Obviously my mum vainly attempts to convince him otherwise.

One point they can agree on though - in fact, the entire family bar my nan agree on this - is my mums current parish priest. The man is an utter gobshite. Since he became parish priest for my mum & nans parish, (some 10 or more years ago now), he's managed to worm his way into my nans house and pretty much treats her like a housekeeper. My nan is 74 this year, has had two knees and a hip replaced, and has quite bad arthritis. He's hardly ever in his own house, my nan cooks for him almost all the time, and because his heating system is fucked, he's actually moved himself into my nans house in the last month or so. Plus we're pretty sure he's gay and neither of my parents trust him alone with my little brother.

On top of all this, during the masses of snow we had recently (my mum etc live in Wales and quite high up a mountain, so they had a fair six inches of snow), he actually complained at my mum because he had to walk all of the ten minutes from my nans house to Tesco to fetch some bread, milk etc. And then he had the nerve to accuse my mum of not caring enough about her own mother to come down and get her some bread. Bear in mind that at this point my mum had been snowed in for about a week and unable to get to work, my nan lives about 5 miles away, and my mum had been phoning her every day to make sure she was alright. Had there been something wrong, she'd have been down there like a shot, snow or no.

The cherry on the top of all of this, however, is the fact that before he said any of this to my mum (this was after church on the Sunday, by the way, which my mum and my little brother had walked to, being unable to get the car out and whatnot), he had a go at my brother for the same thing, with the added quip of "and why didn't you come and help your nan, hmmm?". Now, my brother is 12. It was snowing pretty damn hard over this week, and there wasn't a single bus to be seen. The only way he'd have gotten there would be to walk, and you can bet that neither my mum nor nan, not to mention my step-dad, would have let him walk there in a near-blizzard.

Bottom line, if all Catholic priests are such cnuts, the world would be a much better place without them.

Apologies for rant, I might post some of my step-dads "wisdom" next. It'll probably involve drugs.
(Sat 21st Mar 2009, 11:10, More)

» Food sex

Russell Howard on using food in the bedroom...
Because it turns out what I posted before was quite, quite wrong.

Vid here (relevance at around 6:15)

"I was 19, and I read in a magazine '59 ways to please your lady using food', so I went and bought, now this is a mistake, a four-pack of Rolo Yoghurt and rather than tell my then-girlfriend what I had planned, I pretty much waited for her like some hideous yoghurt goblin. I doubt there's anything more terrifying and yet pathetic than to come home and find your boyfriend naked, holding yoghurt. I panicked, I didn't just put a little bit on, I pretty much covered her. Every bit of skin I could find. By the time I'd finished, she looked a bit like Morph."

Moral of this story: food+sex=good. Smothering your girlfriend in Rolo yoghurt=very very bad.

(Thanks to iNsAn1tY for the link.)
(Sat 8th Aug 2009, 11:38, More)

» Political Correctness Gone Mad

Slightly Off-Topic, But...
There's a guy I go to college with, name of Andy, who has some form of spinal disorder, which means his spine is crooked, so he needs a frame to be able to walk. Now Andy is great - he's a grumpy, grouchy old bastard with a great sense of humour. But some of the looks I get walking around college and calling him a pain in the arse are unbelievable. Today, for example. Walking through college, and every corridor has at least two sets of double fire-doors, you know, the heavy bastards that hurt like hell if they hit you.

Anyway, walking through one particular corridor, there were a few older students, all women, coming the other way. As usual, it was just me and Andy, so there was me trying to open two doors at once and still leave him room to get through. And, as usual, he ends up going under my armpit and running over my toes. So I call him a bastard pain in the arse who just does it to be difficult, and he laughs and says he does. Cue filthy looks at me from the other people in the corridor, and me and Andy pissing ourselves.

On another note, the college fire-drill procedure means that in the even of a fire, we have to help Andy to the nearest fire exit. Fairy enough, yes? But no, we're not allowed to carry him, throw him or assisst him down steps or out of doors in any way shape or form. I can't decide whether its too PC or not PC enough!

Length? Several inches above average, or so he says.
(Wed 28th Nov 2007, 16:30, More)

» Easiest Job Ever

Being an exam invigilator....
... for mock GCSEs at the start of this year. I only got the job because they were short a few people and my mum is a teacher at the school. And it was £190ish for about three hours a day over a week.

Basically I got to look vaguely smart, wander around a hall/gym full of students in exam conditions and watch them not cheat. There was the occasional fetching of extra sheets of paper, rulers, calculators etc. and the odd tissue or glass of water for kids with a cold. Other than that, I got to hang out in the science department drinking tea and playing Professor Layton until the end of the day when I got a lift home.

Easiest money I've ever made right there.
(Thu 9th Sep 2010, 12:53, More)