» Dumb things you've done

Has anyone else ever absent-mindedly thanked a cash machine?
...or is that particular idiocy reserved solely for me. And yes, I was stone cold sober I'm sad to say.
(Tue 25th Dec 2007, 16:06, More)

» Desperate Times

Tequila.
Christmas before last, as my companions and I drank our way into the realms of boxing day, and as the third bottle of José was opened, we noticed an quite alarming lack of salt. Somehow my drink fuelled logic engine touched on parmesan as an adequate substitute. Indeed, at the time, it seemed to be doing the trick, and was commended as an excellent stand-in.

...until I woke up with a mouth tasting like an unwashed foot. There was still bits of parmesan stuck to my gums, which, combined with the usual dog breath associated with a cracking hangover, had distilled a miasma normally attendant on a 3 week old corpse.

Basically; really not a good idea, unless you hate your dentist with a fiery passion.
(Thu 15th Nov 2007, 16:35, More)

» Dumb things you've done

Not me...
But my friend, once managed to get her head stuck in a fridge. No extenuating circumstances either; she just closed the door faster than she removed her head. She was stuck for a good few seconds too, and was actually starting to get quite panicked. It's possible I've never laughed so hard in my life.
(Mon 31st Dec 2007, 14:46, More)

» Customers from Hell

Working at Edinburgh castle
And despite the usual stupid bloody questions (when does the one o'clock gun go off? How many rides are inside? etc) that Americans ask, I managed to get quite offended the other day. I was talking to a pair of middle aged American ladies, and one went off to get the tickets. Coming back a couple of minutes later, she joking remarked to her friend "Oh my god, stop flirting with the help." I could've hit her.
(Sat 6th Sep 2008, 20:59, More)

» My Biggest Disappointment

Reality in general.
I remember the moment implicitly: as a much younger cmdr, I'd just finished reading Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials Trilogy, and was walking down the hill to return the book to the local library (a quaint journey, with the Hovis music blaring quietly in the background) when I was struck with just how bland the real world was in comparison to the rich fiction I'd been indulging in. It must have just been that point in growing up when you realise none of the magic is real, a turning point in the cynicism to naivety ratio that comes at a certain age. It thoroughly depressed me, that stage of growing up where you realise 'this is it'. I'd also have to admit to still feeling an echo of that sensation of realisation every time I come to end of a particularly good book.

That and when Opal Fruits changed to Starburst.
(Sun 29th Jun 2008, 21:54, More)