» Housemates from hell

um
not quite from hell... but one of my housemates have left this for me to deal with over the 5 weeks of the easter holidays



That *was* white rice a few weeks ago. It's now bright orange with bits of grey. There was a spoon in there, but it has been absorbed by the scary orange cloud mould. Click "I like this" and I'll open the lid...

Edit: You people are sadists. Pot is now safely in shed.


Look at the poor spoon!

(Thu 5th Apr 2007, 23:44, More)

» I Drank Meths (pointless teenage things you did to shock)

Bugs are scary.
My mother pretty much let me do anything. Which meant I was a bit stuck. She was however, a rather tidy and clean person, and the house was always spotless. So I did the only thing I could do and turned my bedroom into some sort of fungi and mould breeding ground.

I walk along. I tread on something. A bug. Can't quite work out what it is. Looks like a cockroach. I'm terrified of bugs in general, let alone cockroaches. I call my mum into the room.

me "MUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!"

mother: "yes?"

me: "bug. scary. what is it?"

mother: "ahh, that's a cockroach"

me: "AAARRGGHHHHH" lots of mental images of huge swarms of cockroaches climbing up my legs, or over my body at night...

mother: "They get everywhere, they can lay eggs everywhere y'know. I'll have to call the council"

me: (fearing some local paper showing my room) "nooooooooooooo"

Cue cleaning frenzy. I threw out my mattress, all my bedlinen, all my clothing, my bed (one of those stretched fabric over wood things), my carpet. I then spent 3 days pouring bleach in the gap between the skirting board and the floorboards, and on every surface I could find. I then went without a mattress for about 6 months until my brother got a new one and I got his old one, and finally brought a bed a few years later.

One of the odd things was that I kept pouring bleach on my toolbox, then coming back "ARGH eggs" then pour more bleach on. Took me a few weeks to realise it was the dried up bleach I was seeing, not more cockroach eggs.

Last summer, now I am well and truely far away from my parents and have been for over a few years, I bring up the subject. My mother starts laughing.

"It was a water beetle. There's a nest under the house. We only said it so you would tidy up the room."

"so you let me go without a bed for 4 years because you wanted me to tidy my room?"

"well, it worked, didn't it?"

Cow. But fair play.
(Thu 19th Jul 2007, 14:21, More)

» Helicopter Parents

Snacktime
We'll call him Chris as that's fairly easy to follow. This is the man whose stupidity combined with mine on holiday generated 12k hits on a photography site. But he was a well grounded and resourceful fellow, and happened to be a Scout leader.

There was the usual lark that goes with teenage scouting (especially with the girls) and big camping trips with massive marquee-type tents. 20-odd boys, 10-14 years old all on their own for the first time.

12 year old boy comes up to Chris with a packet of crisps. He asks:

Kid: "Can I have a pack of crisps?"
Chris: "Sure, go ahead. You can help yourself to anything in the snacks trunk"
Kid: "er, ok."
Kid hands the crisps to Chris. Chris is a bit confused at this point.

Kid: "Er, can you open the pack?"
"Can't you do it?"
"Er, my mum says I'm not allowed to."
*slightly stunned 19 year old ginger blokey stammers for a bit, then composes self*
"Really?"
*kid looks a bit hurt at not being believed* "Yes!"
"Well, you're allowed to open packets of crisps here."
"Er, ok. Can you do it anyway?"
*smile* "If you want those crisps enough, you'll get them open."

And apparently he managed it.

Scouting 1. Overprotective parenting: 0. Yay!
(Thu 10th Sep 2009, 18:07, More)

» The Weird Kid In Class

My brother
And no, I'm not going to post some hilarious story about him.

He had at the time what was called "behavioural difficulties" - eventually diagnosed many years later as mild autism. By then it was far too late to actually be able to do anything.

My school were complete twunts to him. They:

- Got him to expose himself to a load of people when he was 13.

- Constantly asked him idiotic questions designed to trip him up and say something that wasn't true, then constantly taunt him about what he'd said. Running jokes seemed to be about the suggestion of incest or that he wore a certain type of pyjamas. Sounds silly, but he really didn't understand so he just got the frustration and hurt and nothing else.

- Egged him on to dance at the school disco on the stage, laughing at him as he did it, jeering.

- Put paint in his bag - wtf?

-Threw all manner of hard objects at him, including pens, pencils, bricks, stones, twigs, anything really.

- Surrounded him in a big group, and proceeded to beat the crap out of him. FOR NO REASON. Quite a few times. He hid that, but I managed to catch them one day :S

- Yell at him and call him fat (he wasn't) during the cross country run.

- Blocked his exit to the schoolbus so he couldn't leave to go home, and wouldn't let him off until he was at least a few miles from home

The doctor took one look at him when he was in year 9, and signed him off school sick for 6 months to give him time to recover (almost all of his hair had fallen out by then). My mother then set about fighting the council and getting him in a proper school.

There is fuckloads more that they did to him. Some of it was just completely bizzare. So he wasn't the weird one. He was a kid with mild autism. The sadistic fuckers at his and my school were the weird ones.


Sorry, you can go back to looking at nerds going "yes I was the weird one lolz"
(Fri 19th Jan 2007, 23:01, More)

» God

Cuddly Jesus
6 years old. Nativity play for the school.

Having the ability to SPEAK REALLY LOUDLY but nothing else, (not much has changed), I was the narrator.

One problem: they didn't have a doll for Jesus. I pondered over this for a bit.

"I've got a cuddly toy at home: I only live a minute walk away, I can get it and show you."

The teacher seemed to agree after some cajouling and I ran off out of the school through the bushes and then up the stairs to the flat where I lived. Arrived, clocked my mother who probably heard "sokmumgongejesus" as I ran into my box room, grabbed the doll and slammed the door back shut again.

I triumphantly turn up my cuddly toy in her yellow and black dress. The teacher's face looks a little pained.

"We can't use that"
"What? I know she's a girl. I can take the dress off. Jesus didn't come out with clothes on, so it'll be ok"
"Look, we can't use her. Sorry."
*Lip starts trembling*
I run off and cry, hugging my cuddly doll. I told her not to worry about the horrible lady, and that she could act a wonderful Jesus if allowed to.

I stagger home in tears. My mother notices the hyper gremlin is now upset and requiring hugs. Tears over, she asks me what happened.

She's not happy. She storms into my school demanding to know who this insensitive teacher was for a good talking to.

I sit and sulk for a bit, imagining all the nasty things my mother is saying to the mean teacher and grin.

My mother comes back a lot calmer. She asks to see the toy I brought with me.
"Sheep can't be Jesus"
*OH!* That's what they didn't like. Unfortunately I'd had a class about racism recently and thought I was wonderfully clever coming back with
"But she's a people sheep. People shouldn't be nasty because she's a sheep. That's wrong."
My mum's not impressed.

"Sheeps can't be Jesus."
"Why not?"
"Because Jesus was a man"
"But..."
She looked at me. I ponder this for a minute. I've been told by then that he's a ghost, wine, bread and a man. But he can't be a sheep. Fine. The world wins. Again.

Nebby eventually died 4 years later in the repeated floods of '94 caused by bath companionship duties. I learnt my lesson and bought a cuddly crab with my pocket money savings, as my logic at the time told me that crabs like water.
(Thu 19th Mar 2009, 20:46, More)