» "You're doing it wrong"

A digitally-enhanced kitten is a surprised kitten...
The other evening, my neighbour's kitten, Doug, strolled in through our kitchen window. He does this a lot and we don't mind - he lives with two rather shouty dogs and likes a bit of peace from time to time.

I was about to go to bed, so thought I'd just give him a bit of a nudge back out of the window. I picked him up, gave him a cuddle and turned him round to face the open window.

He didn't move particularly quickly, so I gave him a little shove. Just at that moment, he lifted his tail inquisitively and turned round to look at me, clearly imploring me to let him stay. As I went to push him out of the window, my thumb accidentally slipped into his little kitteny bumhole. What's worse is that we maintained eye contact throughout.

The combined look of surprise, shame and resignation on his face will haunt me for a while. I suspect the look of alarm, regret and disgust on mine, coupled with the searing pain of something shooting up his arse might have left a lasting impression on him too. He jumped out of the window like, well, like a digitally violated small cat.

I scrubbed my hands for the next 15 minutes and couldn't tell my husband until the next morning about accidentally anally raping an 8-month kitten. Doug hasn't been back since. I suspect I'm on a register somewhere now, when all I wanted to do was politely ask him to leave so that I could get some sleep.

Length? Up to the first knuckle.
(Wed 21st Jul 2010, 17:00, More)

» Mobile phone disasters

The phone was innocent
It's me that's the twat. But if you ever need a couple of phrases to kill a relationship or friendship dead, I'm your woman.

First horror: was seeing a chap, let's call him P. Lovely bloke, Swedish, funny as hell. He'd stayed at my place a couple of times, but no jiggy yet; I just couldn't understand it - I'm not hideous, and frankly I was willing (a bit pissed). The third time he left in the morning, kissed me goodbye and said 'I'll call you', I was at the fist-chewing stage of sexual frustration.

Gnashing my teeth, I texted a mate: "P has just left, and still hasn't put out. Am clearly physically repugnant and should be shot. In fact, I think I'm going to have to go and finish myself off in the bathroom".

Yep, you're way ahead of me, I can see that. I sent it to P. Promptly ran around my apartment screaming, rang him, got voicemail, left a garbled apology and figured that there was nothing else for it but to start drinking to obliterate the horror of being in my own head. I never heard from him again. Yeah, funny that...

Second was a little more harsh, and frankly, you think I'd have learned from the first time. I had moved to a new job back in the UK had a made a few friends. One colleageue, M, was clearly quite keen on me, but was obviously holding back. One day he said 'I've got something to tell you. I'm a Christian' -as if that explained everything I needed to know about him.

Now, I'm not a Christian. I was raised as a Quaker but am not particularly godly. Also, don't let the Quaker tolerant thing fool you, I can be a total beeatch when I want to be. I got back to my office and texted one of my best mates (b3tan Rakky, in fact);
"M just told me he was a Christian. I didn't have the heart to ask whether I was talking to a 33 year-old virgin..."

Fuckjugs. Yes I did. I sent it to him. Oh, how we'll all laugh when the Judgement Day comes...

*pop* how was it for you? In fact, don't tell me - we both know it'll end in tears.
(Fri 31st Jul 2009, 11:34, More)

» Call Centres

"and when she walks, each one she passes goes....uh, excuse me?..."
I used to work for a University doing, amongst other things, handling all of their advertising. It was my first proper job and it was soon clear that as a forthright (rude) northerner in darkest East Anglia, I was perfect to handle the patronising, downright rude and sometimes incredibly stupid cold-callers who used to think that universities would be gullible enough to part with public funds in order to promote their courses in glossy, useless magazines (think 'Basket-Weaving and Topiary Quarterly' and you'd be about right.)

So, it's Friday afternoon - that's the time they always call as they're on a deadline and will think you're in 'weekend stupid' mode. Conversations would regularly ensue thus:

Caller: 'Hello, can I speak to Nunnerfly please?'
Me: 'Speaking'
C: 'Hi Nunnerfly (using my first name without asking me, and when they don't know me. I hate that.) I'm calling from X magazine, and I know how hard it is to recruit students these days. That's why we've come up with this fantastic new mag-
me: 'Sorry, can I stop you there? this sounds really interesting, and I want to give you my full attention. Can I just put you on hold while I close the door?'
C: 'Sure'

Pause while Nunnerfly 'presses hold', puts her feet up on her desk and then begins to sing, down the phone, her chosen hold tune of the day.

My favourite was 'The Girl from Ipanema'; it has such a lightness to it that it's a pleasure to sing in a slightly wistful tone, and it's easy enough to sing without concentrating too much so that you can listen to the response of the caller as they're listening to you.

I'd carry on for a good couple of minutes (with repeats if necessary), then come back on the line with a 'sorry to keep you; now, where were we?'

Now, they can't reasonably ask me whether I've just sung my own hold music, as they're supposed to be impressing me, as well as reading from a script. There would then normally be some garbled reason as to why they couldn't stay on the line, and I would be left in peace.

Aaaaah, times...
(Fri 4th Sep 2009, 14:27, More)

» Breasts

34GG
Me. That is all.
(Fri 7th May 2010, 13:28, More)