» House Guests

Golden Showers - should have gone right instead of left...
I've known my friend Sean for a good few years; he was one of the first people I met since moving to this country and although being a bit crazed (I'm sure he won't mind me saying this), he is a great bloke. His bird's also lovely and they get along really well and I have absolutely no problem with her.

So I drive up to come and chill with him for the evening. He lives about 40 miles from me so it's more common than not for me to kip on his couch - whenever I turn up, it's one of the first things he offers me which is always nice.

So the evening in particular, I call to say I'm on my way and he tells me he's round another person's house and to come over. I've met these other people once or twice before and all's cool. I asked him if he could get his hands on any greenery and he says it's almost certainly likely.

I turn up and there's a 12 pack in the fridge as well as the 12 pack in my hands, both of which get demolished by four of us in about half an hour, with me having probably more than my fair share (hey I'm English, I've got a whole nation's reputation to upkeep here). Then the bucket bongs (gravity bongs for your Americans) come out and it's been a few years since I've had one, so I agree, it's looking like it'll the only chance to smoke any of the small amount of greenery on offer and damn it it's been a hard week. Being the big man and trying not to cough - although anyone who's hit one of these will tell you, it's like trying to inhale a solid rock of smoke down a small pipe - I hit it, hard, and hold it in once before choking - just the once (without any smoke coming out, you know the one), but I can feel all the beer, and my dinner, coming up fast.

Unfortunately this isn't my tale of being a bad house guest as I excuse myself to the bathroom, 'lose me lunch', wash my face and walk back out unnoticed only to crack another beer and jump back on the horse, as it were.

So yeah everything's going swimmingly, more beer gets drunk, albeit at a more steady rate, then it's back to Sean's to watch some TV and generally pass out for the evening. Which is what I did...

"Mr_Lew, wake up!"
"...huh?"
"Wake up, you've just pissed everywhere!"
"...huh? Nah man, what?"
"You've just pissed all over my bed!" Bollocks, I think, I'm just sleeping here on the sofa, he's winding me up, "you've just pissed all over my bed, now you've gone to sleep in my dog's bed!"

OK, this is where things start to click in my mind. I am feeling the relief of a person who's recently been to the bathroom after having a full bladder, but... But I was asleep... So this kind of wakes me up and I start to deny it in my foggyness, half opening my eyes, "look, there's piss all over the front of your shorts!" Hmmm, my leg is a bit wet...

So I open my eyes fully and realise that yes, I am indeed asleep next to his dog who looks a bit pissed off at me being there. There's also a big semi-circular (only because I was wearing shorts) wet patch on my knee, and then I hear the shower running and hear the immortal words: "YOU'VE PISSED ALL OVER MY GIRLFRIEND!"

Mortified was not the word.

Luckily for him he'd not been in bed and had been watching TV with me (although I'd long since passed out) and I'd got up, obvious to all I was going to the toilet. He said he looked at me and my eyes were closed though. I then left the room and apparently took a left turn into his bedroom instead of a right into the bathroom and mistaken his white cotton sheets for a big white porcelain bowl.

In my defense I didn't actually piss directly onto his girlfriend but did unleash a whole bladder onto his memory foam mattress which seeped (sept?) over to her side of the bed, before walking to the other side of the bed and going to sleep with his dog on the floor. The wetness apparently awoke his lovely sleeping Mrs who realised what had happened and told him about it. I'm surprised he didn't knock me out (in fact when I was blotting my piss out of his expensive memory foam mattress topper with kitchen roll I did contemplate offering my face to his fist).

Luckily they both kind of saw the funny side and yes I have been back and stayed the night since (even under invitation), the first thing his girlfriend said to the people already there who I'd never met? "meet the only guy who's ever given me a golden shower."
(Fri 7th Jan 2011, 3:58, More)

» Babysitters

My babysitter
Was a fella named Paul. Sorry, no tales of a young boy lusting over the sitter here, but he was an accomplished and amazing piano player.

I remember sitting hearing him play the piano to us when he babysat, and he was damn good. So good, in fact, he was hired to do the entire score for a feature film starring Helen Mirren. I remember even now the big show everyone around him made of his huge accomplishment, and his rather well-to-do parents were telling everybody they could find about their talented son. Until they watched the movie. It was called "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife And Her Lover". I hear they weren't best pleased after they saw it.

For anyone who's not had the pleasure, I'll give you a little taster of the first five minutes I could stomach when I watched it all those years later, where The Cook force feeds someone dog shit after giving him a pretty savage beating. It's an 'arty' film, with IMDB describing the plot as "The wife of a barbaric crime boss engages in a secretive romance with a gentle bookseller between meals at her husband's restaurant. Food, colour coding, sex, murder, torture and cannibalism are the exotic fare in this beautifully filmed but brutally uncompromising modern fable which has been interpreted as an allegory for Thatcherism." Not for the faint hearted!

www.imdb.com/title/tt0097108/
(Fri 29th Oct 2010, 14:35, More)

» Complaining

Now I'm pissed off...
So I wrote this post: b3ta.com/questions/complaintsdesk/post851020 about me being so proud I bought a KitKat Chunky which was all chocolate for about 35p and got a cheque back for 2 quid. Three times!

Then, I see this post: b3ta.com/questions/complaintsdesk/post854467 where the poster's missus got 35 quid!

I have decided to write this letter to Nestle - click 'I like this' if you think I should post it...



Dear Sir/Madam,

I would like to take this opportunity to complain to you about your customer service procedures. Three times during my life I have had to complain to your company for what is, essentially, sub-standard confectionery, namely a kit kat chunky that lacked the biscuit - or 'wafer' - element. I did so in a very polite manner which was more of a 'quiet word' and not so much of a complaint. For my efforts I was rewarded with a cheque to the value of 2 pounds sterling. Each of the three times this happened I was rewarded with 2 pounds for which I was very grateful.

I would like to add that one of the cheques was never even cashed, as I'll admit this was before I had a bank account and by the time I opened one the 6 month's guarantee of the cheque had expired. I didn't even contact you to reclaim my funds, I just let it slide.

Imagine my horror when I hear a tale of another of your customers who complained about having a solid regular kit kat and wrote a letter, complete with artistic rendition of a sad pony, who received a cheque for 35 pounds!

I would like to know whether it was my politeness that was my folly, or the lack of illustration. Or whether you favour consumers of regular kit kats over the chunky preferrer? Whatever the answer may be, I find this highly unacceptable and I therefore request you forward me the funds I demand you owe. I have checked the inflation rate for the period of 2001 - 2010 (as this is when my unfortunate incident occurred), and realise you are indebted to me in the amount of
3148.17 GBP. I have achieved this figure using the following equation:

35 x (the amount you gave to the 'pony artist')
3 (the amount of times I complained, as mentioned above)
----
105 -
4 (the 4 pounds deducted being those already deposited)
---
101 x
31.17 (the current inflation rate between June 1999 (I remember it was June because it was sunny when I was eating it) and August 2010. Inflation rate calculated at inflationdata.com/Inflation/Inflation_Calculators/Inflation_Rate_Calculator.asp )
----
3148.17

Since I moved to the USA in 2006, I would like you to convert this figure into US Dollars, as per the exchange rate of my migration (mainly because the pound was a little bit higher then).

Thus;
3148.17 x
1.8239805984 (the exchange rate as of June 27th, 2006 - I remember this because it was my brother's birthday the day we left)
------------
5742.20 USD.


I ask that you please forward the amount to me within a respectable 30 days, and all matters will be concluded. If you should turn over this page you will see a hand drawn picture of a VERY sad pony, should this actually be the deciding factor in obtaining refunds of which I am unaware. I don't want to take that chance.

I look forward to receiving your check ('check' spelled in the US way due to my current location) from either Nestle UK or US, it makes no difference to me.


Yours Faithfully,


Mr Lew.



Do you think it will work??
(Thu 9th Sep 2010, 1:14, More)

» "You're doing it wrong"

I must have thought it was a toilet...
So here's my story which very fittingly for this QOTW happened Saturday night just gone:

I went over to my friend's house to partake in a delightful evening of good company and getting completely mashed off my (proverbial man) tits. I'd already lost me lunch about an hour after getting there due to hitting one of those gravity bong things a bit too hard and not being able to take it (I would have been able to a few years ago but haven't done one for ages, who would've thought).

Not one to be discouraged, I jumped straight back on the horse and carried on drinking the night away. There were only 6 of us (3m 3f) and my 12 pack went soon enough, as did the other 10 or so beers already in the fridge. Off to another mate's house we went and carried on drinking the beer in his fridge, playing a bit of darts etc. etc.

After a while the 6 dwindles to 3 - my mate the home owner and his missus, and I. We started watching some shit on the TV (I introduced him to the excellent The Inbetweeners) and his missus apparently went off to bed while I passed out on his sofa in a most dignified way.

And this is what I did wrong: At some point in the night (about 6.30/7am) my friend woke me up rather abruptly saying I'd just pissed everywhere.
"What? Nah I don't think so mate what the fuck are you talking about?"
"You've just pissed on my bed"
"Shut up mate no I didn't"
"Look, there's piss all over your shorts and my bed, plus you're sleeping in my dog's bed."
"What the fuck?!" So this is the point it starts to dawn on me that he might not have been joking around as my leg did indeed feel a little wet. I jumped up to hear the shower running and see his girlfriend poke her head round the door to ask him for a towel. What made all this the better was that apparently she'd been asleep in the bed at the time.

So, I get up and fully realise what's happened. I'm told I'd been asleep on the sofa and suddenly got up and left the room, all doing so with my eyes closed. I walked towards the bathroom and unfortunately took a left turn instead of a right, into his bedroom and 'pointed percy at the poor bird asleep'. Well, not quite at her luckily (I think I may have gotten myself shot for this as I do remember seeing him pocket his gun when he went outside earlier in the evening) but I just stood over his bed and pissed all over it, all over his $200 memory foam mattress and his sheets, which had all seeped (sept?) over to his sleeping girlfriend who at first thought it was sweat but then horrifyingly discovered it wasn't.

Luckily they were very good about it, I think it was the way I was completely mortified and most incredibly apologetic, not allowing anyone to help me clean up and offering a professional clean on me.

I've not spoken to him since and am wondering if I should buy her some flowers or something (but not yellow ones)? Any ideas?!?!

Edit: I'm relatively new so forgot to add a "Length? About a foot from my waist to the bed."
(Mon 19th Jul 2010, 21:43, More)

» Drugs

full addiction
Back when I was a young lad I'd heard much talk about this. Being the youngest of 2 boys meant a lot of information was passed down for me to relay to my friends with complete abandonment of what the original story was, just me retelling such tales to sound cool in front of my friends. Yeah, I admit it! And to anyone with older siblings I'm sure you'd understand and agree - you don't get the full facts but become the expert in certain fields in front of your friends.

But, curiousity outgrew me, and I finally had the chance to experiment myself. When I had it in my hands I felt harder than ever, a real coming of age 'aren't I the big man' sort of thing. The feelings were amazing and I relished every minute of it. Back and forth, round and round, my head was swimming and I was in absolute paradise. Even the afterglow of the initial peak of the high was warm and fuzzy, something I had never experienced before and don't think even in times since has been as good.

From then on, I was hooked. It couldn't get enough, and spent far too much time 'chasing the dragon' as I suppose one would call it - trying to find that amazing first time buzz. Sometimes it would feel almost as good, sometimes better, but never enough. It was all I thought about - I could still function and wasn't a complete wreck, but as soon as I got home from school I'd be on it again. Sometimes even at school, sometimes even in public in broad daylight (maybe with a little bit of shelter, I wasn't stupid enough to get caught). I became the typical wanker who almost let it consume his everything. I think I covered it up well in public, but there were certain times when questions were raised - never directly to me, but I knew damn well people were talking about it and what harm I could be doing to myself.

Some adults would mention it to me, taking the 'buddy buddy' routine and saying they'd tried it when they were young too and just don't let it ruin me, some said it was 'evil' and should be washed from my thoughts, but I enjoyed the buzz too much and by now was in far too deep.

Don't get me wrong you hear tales of complete addicts but I was never one of them. I was more into it than a lot of people, I know this now, but as I say I didn't let it ruin my life like some of the stories I've read on this qotw about people having one puff on a joint and the next day dying with a needle in their arm (not that I exaggerate).

As I grew older I was still addicted, but it subsided more and more and I went from 'hitting the pipe' a good couple of times a day to no more than once a day, and even now it's still fairly regularly. I was also single throughout most of my teens, whether it was because of my addiction, or my addiction increased because of it I don't know, but it didn't help. I dated a girl when I was 19 who didn't mind, she said she did it too sometimes (she was older) but I fell head over heels in love with her, and I didn't feel the need as much. I'm trying to figure out how to express why but I don't know the right words, I just didn't need it anymore. I'm sure those who have been that deeply in love will understand where I'm coming from. Still, things were never going to last with her, we both knew that which only served to make it more beautiful, and after we broke up I was back fallen off the wagon again. Girlfriends since have either thought it was a disgusting habit and I'd have to indulge myself far away from them, or sometimes I'd find that special girl who'd understand, even maybe try it themselves and we'd do it together, feeling a connection and intimacy like no other.

I'm 24 now and single again. These days I only crack one off every 2 days or so.
(Mon 20th Sep 2010, 22:49, More)