» Phobias

Magpies
I'm a cyclist, and these swoopy fuckers are the bane of my life come springtime. I'm trying to get some training in for the coming season after a winter of being cooped up and mincing about in the gym.
However, spring is nesting season for these black and white pricks, and they are fiercely territorial. When you ride past a tree in which one has built its nest, it'll sneak up behind you and either smack its wings together just behind your head, scaring you shitless, or pecks your helmet (hur hur), also making you shit yourself and possibly swerve under a truck.
They also have gangs - I was on a ride a couple of years ago and one swooped me, then all down the road, I saw the squawky cunts materialising from other trees, in the fields or out of thin bloody air to sit on the power lines and wait for me to come past. It's about the fastest 3km I've ever ridden, because magpies are pretty big and scary looking when you turn around and one's about two feet from the back of your head.

Thing is, if one's swooping down on you and you turn and catch it, it'll abort its attack because you've seen it, and it can't surprise you.

Fucking sneaky little cunts, I hate them.
(Mon 14th Apr 2008, 22:46, More)

» God

Corrupting, and avoiding being corrupted
It all began when I was a little roadie and my primary school had religious instruction lessons once a week, taken by the mother of one of the kids in class. The woman was a pious, earnest type, long, unkempt hair, no makeup, very modest clothes, that sort of thing. As was the case with many of these sorts of lessons, it was exclusively Christian teachings we were handed - no mention of other religions.
My atheist mother quickly cottoned onto this - I was happy enough either way, since as a kid you just want to do what all the other kids are doing - but dear old Mum took me aside and gave me one of the best pieces of advice you could probably give to kids who don't care one way or the other.
"The thing with Mrs Spencer is, if you don't understand something or it doesn't sound right to you, keep asking questions until you get an answer you're happy with."
I tried this approach and was gently told I was too young to understand, but "things will become clearer when God wants them to."

It all came to a head when I awoke screaming in the night, having had a nightmare about the crucifixion - Mum tells me I was hysterical saying "They nailed Jesus to the cross and it hurt and He was bleeding and everyone hated Him and His Dad was watching and didn't even help Him!"

I was dragged out of religious instruction quick smart, which was brilliant because I got to sit in the library and read Willard Price books. However, that didn't save me from Mrs Spencer, who cornered me at every opportunity to tell me that God loved me anyway and "as you get older, you'll realise that your parents aren't always right" to which smart little prick me replied "You're a parent, are you wrong too?" which garnered me a patronising pat on the head and "Remember, I'm just doing God's work." Little roadie didn't know when to keep his mouth shut, so blurts "Why can't he do it, or is he just lazy?"

Ah, kids.

Scroll forward several years, during which time religion never played a significant part in my life, aside from the time when a teenaged roadie invited the JoHos inside because I was (and still am) shit at saying no to things.

Eventually roadie is in his early 20s, living in Scotland with his gorgeous, petite, loving and generally fantastic wee Scots girlfriend. Only trouble was, wee Jo was a fairly committed Christian, doing Lent and off to church most Sundays. Her sister was one of the *really* hardcore types, setting aside "quiet time" several times a day so she could read her Bible. A memorable argument with her went thus:

"We went across to Skye the other weekend, it's brilliant they've put that bridge in, means more people can get across and appreciate it."
"I think the bridge is a bad idea, if God had meant Skye to be joined up with the mainland He'd have designed it that way."
"God isn't responsible for plate tectonics!"
"Yes He is!"
"So He caused the Boxing Day tsunami, then?"

I digress.

I was dragged to church (of Scotland) on Christmas Eve, where instead of the traditional Christmas message about love and family and all that, I was treated to 45 minutes of guilt about not sinning in the coming year and other such shite. Christmas Day was the most staid, boring fucking affair I've ever endured - one present each, one bottle of wine on the table (between five of us), grace before the meal (and as the special guest, that was MY job!). I remember mumbling something about "how special it was to be among friends at this time of year" and that was about it.

As the relationship deteriorated, my sneaky goal for the weekend was always to have wee Jo impaled on me (important she was on top, you see, as it's way more wanton) at or around 10am on Sundays, just when the rest of her family was heading into church. Bonus points were available if I could have her in a 69 - her conservative mother would have absolutely had kittens if she knew her angel daughter had her mouth stuffed full while being pleasured orally by some Godless atheist who was all set to steal her little treasure away to New Zealand where she'd never be seen again.

It was the little things like that which kept me sane through the death throes of the relationship...and no doubt ensured her ticket to Hull, hopefully in the seat next to mine!

Length...well, she fucking loved it, the little slut...:O
(Thu 19th Mar 2009, 21:31, More)

» Flirting

Partying! Drinking! Failing miserably!
It was a while ago now, and I regret to say I've not got much better in the flirting department. Someone else here mentioned they were all easy conversation, jokes, urbane musings and general pleasantness with a pretty girl, until receiving word the girl though he was a bit of all right. Then he turned into a gabbling, blushing, awkward pile of nervous sweating and inappropriateness. That describes me rather well.

Anyway, I was at a survey party for a radio network I used to work for. Twice a year, surveys would go out to listeners all over the country and the results pretty much dictated the viability of your product. Good results and the sales reptiles would sell a shitload of ads, meaning loads of revenue for the station and fat bonuses and golf club memberships for them. Bad results and revenue would be down, fewer ads would be sold and the reps would have to take up ping pong or something. It meant very little for a newsmonkey like me, apart from a twice-yearly free pissup at a local bar. Do well and celebrate - do badly and we'd drown our sorrows. Win win.

I'd collected one of my female colleagues along the way and we'd arrived as the party was in full swing. We sauntered to the bar and she pointed out one of the fridges behind the bar was full of our favourite brew.

"Whaddaya reckon, can we get through that before the end of the night?"
"Fuck it, let's give it a nudge," I replied.

Now, this isn't going the way you might think.

Time passed. Much beer was drunk. I remember standing at the bar. Actually, standing is being generous. If the bar hadn't been there I doubt I'd have been vertical. A Girl brushed past me on her way to the bathroom. The bar was crowded so I thought nothing of it. She brushed past me again on her way back and this time I paid her some attention. I can't remember exactly what she looked like - dark hair, big brown eyes and slim, I remember that much. My type. Lovely.

As is often the case when you're properly, teeth-floatingly wankered, my brain quickly switched onto another, completely unrelated topic. Lego, or Metallica, or Famous Grouse - something like that. The Girl brushed past me again - only this time, she took her sweet time. I clearly remember feeling her breasts pushing into the back of my arm as she trailed her hand suggestively across my lower back.

"Hmm," said Rational Brain. "I think she's into you."
"Fugginshuddupcunt, whatever, more whissssshky, she's just an ordinary girl trying to make her way to the bathrooms in a crowded pub you pissed fucker," said Drunk Brain.
"You know, you really should listen to me," said Rational Brain.
"...I've got nothing, but you haven't finished your drink..."

The Girl slid her way past me a fourth time, this time squeezing my hand as she did so. I followed her across the room with my eyes and she turned and stared at me as she reached the door. She gave a sort of half-smile before turning and walking out.

"Fucking get after her, you dozy wanksock!" cried both my brains in unison.

I left the safety and support of the nice solid wooden bar and pinballed my way across to the door and half-stumbled, half-fell down the stairs to the street, where the Girl was sitting on a bench with a couple of her friends. She watched with horror as I proudly regained my feet and stood there, swaying like a pendulum, looking for all the world like standing upright and unassisted would be my Greatest Achievement Ever.

Her and her friends scuttled off down the road towards the taxi stands while I stood there feeling like, well, that drunk bloke who's just seen what he thought was a sure thing leg it.

Shitwitches.

*Edit - I've removed the previous stuff because I've had enough of being made to feel a cunt for something stupid I did eleven years ago. Shouldn't have posted it in the first place and I will think rather more carefully about the content of any future posts.
(Thu 18th Feb 2010, 22:22, More)

» Pet Peeves

My alarm clock
I was having a brilliant dream this morning about three beautiful women. Stuff happened in the dream, time passed and Dream Me had just summoned up the courage to tell the most gorgeous one how I felt...

"You know, the thing is, all three of you are stunningly gorgeous girls, you especially."

She looks at me with an amused expression in her massive dark eyes, her glossy brown hair falling over her lovely face.

"Yeah, the three of us were talking about you, and BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Fucking alarm went off RIGHT THEN. Horrible cunting fucker of a whore thing. Ruined everything.

Then I woke up properly and realised my girlfriend was in bed next to me, and I was disappointed.

I am a bad man.
(Tue 6th May 2008, 4:21, More)

» When Animals Attack

Attacking cows
OK, just to start off, cows didn't attack me. A friend and I attacked some cows, without really meaning to.

About 10 years ago, he and I were enjoying a mountain bike ride near the city, an out-and-back type one where you basically climbed for a good 30 minutes then turned round and enjoyed the downhill back to the bottom. As we descended, we encountered a load of cows, being herded down the track by a farmer on his quad bike.

We rode up to the farmer who said we could go through, slowly so as not to scare the cows. We managed to make our way through all but two of the cows - a mother and her calf, who wasn't tiny but still a fairly young cow. They wouldn't let us through - whenever we tried to pass them they'd start sprinting, swerving all over the place so there was no way past. There was a vertical bank to our left, then the road, then another vertical bank to our right - the road was cut into the side of the hill. We were fast running out of downhill, and with the impatience and selfishness of youth we decided "Bugger this - we've not climbed for half an hour only to follow bloody cows down the hill" we gunned it past the cow and her calf...who put the speed on again...and swerved again...right off the bank to the right. Baby cow followed Mum right off the bank as well. We stopped.

Moo..crash...tree breaking sound...moo...crash...thud...silence.

"Fuckin' hell."
"Let's get the hell out of here before that farmer finds us."
"Good call"

And away we went. Sorry cows - best not to run off cliffs next time eh?

Length - cliff was probably 40 metres.
(Tue 29th Apr 2008, 0:02, More)