» The nicest thing someone's ever done for me

My stepfather and me...
We don't really see eye to eye most of the time. Usually a control freak of the worst sort, he at one point scolded me and my fellow siblings for putting a block of cheese in the wrong location in the fridge.

Now, I'm very much incapable of dealing with authority. The boss I work under has never once tried to boss me around. The day he does is the day I walk out, and I never made it a secret to anyone.

So, as you can imagine, my stepdad's tendency to 'ask' things in a way not utilizing question marks, often leads to, as I'll call them, tensions. Meaning that I have, over the years, insulted him, cursed him, and threatened him in every way I could think of. In his eyes, I must've been a complete and utter cunt, and in my eyes, I deserved to rot away in a tiny secluded spot in hell.

Yet, despite my completely unjustified outbursts, he has never put me aside, never turned me down when I asked for a favour, and never treated me the same way I treated him. But above all else, there is one thing that has earned him my deepest respect:

A few years ago, when I was still a teenager (a title I outgrew only one year ago) me and my girlfriend for two years (first proper relationship for me, and also the last one to date) broke up. Two years might not be much to some, to me, it was everything. And to someone whose mental department wasn't operating at 100% stability (us young'uns, as you know, can be overly emotional at the best - and worst of times), this was a huge blow. My life was over, and I wasn't to fully recover in a few months.

So it came to be that my stepdad found me sitting in front of the tv at 4 am on a particularly bad night. I was watching a programme I found remotely interesting, which was as good as it got for me, until he walked over to the set and turned it off.
The arse turned off the tv, before walking into the kitchen. Without any reason. Wile I was watching!

I snapped.

For the better part of half an hour, I screamed my lungs out at him, threw a few bits of furniture around, and somewhere down the middle, started crying like the angsty emo kid everyone becomes at one point in time. I yelled at him to fuck off, to die, to fuck off and die quickly, before I'd crush his breathing system with my own hands, all the while trembling like a horny teenage rabbit on Red Bull. After I lost my voice and nearly choked on my own tears, my stepdad, the cold and emotionless cunt, having said not a single word during the entire scene, calmly as ever walked back into the kitchen...

And came out with two bottles of beer. I was incapacitated. What the hell was going on, why was he offering me a beer instead of punching me over the moon and into China?

I never found out how he knew about my state of mind at the time, nor did I discover how he knew that single insignificant action would push me over the edge, but what I do know is that I have never felt the sense of relief I did afterwards. My stepfather set himself up as a sacrificial goat, a bulls-eye target for me to aim every last bit of my cropped-up anger and pain towards.

I called into school ill for a full week afterwards, lacking the physical strength to participate. That night drained me, both emotionally, and physically, but my depression, which had been building up over the course of 5 long years, vanished.

We still fight, I still curse at him every so often, but looking back on things, it appears he might have been the single person to prevent a teenage Obsidian from doing a twisted impression of a christmas ball dangling from a tree.

The nicest thing someone has ever done for me? Saved my life, and very much improved it by doing so.

Warning: Huge wall of text incom... Oh. Never mind.

Sorry for length, girth, color and texture. I didn't know it's not supposed to look like that.
(Fri 3rd Oct 2008, 14:33, More)

» Cringe!

Paper knob
Alcohol appears to be one of the prime instigators of truly cringeworthy moments. The following tale is no exception to this rule, and it's a personal reminder to never again consume alcoholic beverages in larger-than-average quantities:

--------------------------------
(Wavy lines deserve to die.)

A few years ago, a somewhat smaller and definately more teenage me accompanied a couple of friends on a night at the pub. After all, very few teenage boys can withstand the promise of alcohol and female company.

And indeed, a couple of hours later, most of us found ourselves with a beer in one hand, girly parts in the other, and a large number of glasses, contents ranging from empty to nearly full, sitting idly on the table. As the night came to an end, me and my lucky catch* decided on a meeting the following day at my house, as we both agreed our intoxicated selves would not be able to engage in any sexytime activities.

So we parted ways briefly, but my hormones were obviously not as patient as the rest of me. Back home, I decided on a good wank in the preperation of all the sex that was sure to be had the day after.

Being downright drunk, I managed to make a total mess of myself. Not wanting my future girlfriend** to find me in such a state, I got hold of a toilet paper roll and made my best effort to clean up myself, especially my soldier's helmet, which was now getting stickier by the second.

Happy with the effort I made in cleaning myself from my own immoral juices, I fell sound asleep, to wake up the next morning to the sound of my mother's voice, telling me I had a female visitor.

Carrying an extreme hangover, I slowly made my way downstairs, where I was greeted by a kiss from equally hungover Girlperson. After a drink and a snack, I returned to my bedroom, company following me up the stairs.

Back in my bed, kissing ensued. Followed by touching, more kissing, up until the moment of truth.

As she stripped herself from her panties, I unzipped my pants, and left it to her to remove my undies.

As she slowly pulled them down, an erect Obsidian Soldier anxiously jumped out, ready to invade the Ladybit Country lying before him...

Only to be met with a look of proper disgust, as the girl involved noticed crusting pieces of low quality toilet paper, attached to Obsidian's manhood due to the stickyness of dried-up lovejuice.


* At this age, we still lacked any form of respect towards the better half of humanity.

** From this moment, as you could very well guess, any chances at a relationship were reduced to absolute zero. In fact, we haven't seen or spoken to one another since.

(Fri 28th Nov 2008, 15:09, More)

» My most gullible moment

Why is it...
... that after reading through nearly 15 pages of QotW comments, I haven't seen ole' Santa mentioned once?

6 years. How's that for a gullible moment?

And here I was, hoping that the QotW to pop my b3ta cherry would be special... Not quite what I had in mind, but I couldn't go on lurking forever, now could I?
(Mon 25th Aug 2008, 15:12, More)

» I'm going to Hell...

bah!
Third is the best I could manage. :(

Edit: Does anyone else fear that this QotW will be nothing but one giant repost from the Cringe QotW?
(Thu 11th Dec 2008, 13:15, More)

» Will you go out with me?

Sorry hun, can't be bothered.
Unfortunately, I do not have any wild stories of love and romance to share with you. No kisses, hugs, no brilliant pick-up lines, and no happy endings.
Please bear with me, and practice your patience, for this tale will be long, and possibly slightly off-topic.


Somewhere between 5 years ago and 5 years into the past, on a very ordinary afternoon, a slightly younger and less mature Obsidian found himself browsing the wonderous works the world wide web has blessed us with.
Suddenly, and without prior warning, a well known green-skinned amputee jumped into view from the corner of my screen. He, so he stated, has been sent across the globe to convey a single simple message.
Someone wanted to chat with me.

After careful consideration, I accepted the bold request. As soon became clear, she invited me in a particular random mood, brought on by the dark and insidious spectre of boredom.
hypnotized by the blonde beauty that graced her display avatar, I felt my mind go weak, in starc contrast to my body, and had no choice but to commence in innocent flirtation.

Two years later, the anonymous messenger had become a real girl. The girl had become my girlfriend.
And ultimately,
the girlfriend became an ex.

While one might argue that 'such is the nature of countless other relationships', the ending chapter of our lovestory could hardly be considered natural.

The change happened gradually, and as such, went unnoticed right up until the very end. She was a great lady, lovely beyond belief, with the ability to brighten up a day - nay, a lifetime - in seconds. And she still is, for she hasn't changed a bit.

I have.

You see, as we spent more and more time together, my feelings for her waned, and ultimately disappeared altogether. One faithful friday, we found ourselves discussing plans for the weekend. We would meet up with eachother, go out, see things, and spend the night doing that sexy thingy at her place.

"I can't," I stated suddenly, "It's been a rough week and I'd prefer to sleep in." Mind you, I was still in college by then, and a 'rough week' to me was attending more than 14 hours of lectures. It was a filthy, obvious lie, but the truth was even dirtier. I just couldn't. Be. Bothered.

Indeed, you dedicated readers (dedicated for sticking up with my rant'o'junk un until here), I just couldn't be bothered getting on the train to meet her. And no, I didn't want her to come over here. After all,the girl wanted 'attention'. Which I simply didn't want to give.

We broke up right then and there. Tears, curses, the whole "it's not you, it's me", we didn't broke up, we smashed, shattered, mutilated, and demolished our 2-year relationship.

And the funny thing? Since then, for nearly three years now, I have never showed the slightest interest in anything even remotely female. At the young age of 20, I do not share my age group's obsession with sex, girls, or anything related.* Friends and parents might well live under the false - but nonetheless understandable - assumption I must be gay, others think I'm suffering from some psychological disfunction, and a few went as far as call me downright crazy.

So my answer to this week's QotW? I got asked out once. Haven't been quite the guy I used to be since. **

(*) And to those interested in urban myth; No, none of my physical traits have swollen to supernatural, basketball-like sizes. Myth busted!
(**) Overly dramatized paragraph. The story itself is very much true, I do *not* see myself as a victim, or sufferer of anything. In fact, I'm quite satisfied with my current life, thank you!
(Fri 29th Aug 2008, 12:38, More)