Profile for jmaxi:
To suggest anything would merely create the seeds of predjudice and destroy the enigmatic beauty of the blank page (just like this has - doh!).
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- a member for 3 years, 2 months and 25 days
- has posted 262 messages on the main board
- has posted 1849 messages on the talk board
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- has posted 38 stories and 117 replies on question of the week
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To suggest anything would merely create the seeds of predjudice and destroy the enigmatic beauty of the blank page (just like this has - doh!).
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Expensive Mistakes
Expensive domain names mistakes....
not me but ...
1. A site called ‘Who Represents‘ where you can find the name of the agent that represents a celebrity. Their domain name… wait for it… is
www.whorepresents.com
2. Experts Exchange, a knowledge base where programmers can exchange advice and views at
www.expertsexchange.com
3. Looking for a pen? Look no further than Pen Island at
www.penisland.net
4. Need a therapist? Try Therapist Finder at
www.therapistfinder.com
5. Then of course, there’s the Italian Power Generator company…
www.powergenitalia.com
6. And now, we have the Mole Station Native Nursery, based in New South Wales:
www.molestationnursery.com
7. If you’re looking for computer software, there’s always
www.ipanywhere.com
8. Welcome to the First Cumming Methodist Church. Their website is
www.cummingfirst.com
9. Then, of course, there’s these brainless art designers, and their whacky website:
www.speedofart.com
10. Want to holiday in Lake Tahoe? Try their brochure website at
www.gotahoe.com
(Tue 30th Oct 2007, 14:52, More)
Expensive domain names mistakes....
not me but ...
1. A site called ‘Who Represents‘ where you can find the name of the agent that represents a celebrity. Their domain name… wait for it… is
www.whorepresents.com
2. Experts Exchange, a knowledge base where programmers can exchange advice and views at
www.expertsexchange.com
3. Looking for a pen? Look no further than Pen Island at
www.penisland.net
4. Need a therapist? Try Therapist Finder at
www.therapistfinder.com
5. Then of course, there’s the Italian Power Generator company…
www.powergenitalia.com
6. And now, we have the Mole Station Native Nursery, based in New South Wales:
www.molestationnursery.com
7. If you’re looking for computer software, there’s always
www.ipanywhere.com
8. Welcome to the First Cumming Methodist Church. Their website is
www.cummingfirst.com
9. Then, of course, there’s these brainless art designers, and their whacky website:
www.speedofart.com
10. Want to holiday in Lake Tahoe? Try their brochure website at
www.gotahoe.com
(Tue 30th Oct 2007, 14:52, More)
» Stupid Dares
schmoking
Back as a permenantly stoned student (when dope used to make one lazy, hungry and giggle as opposed to hearing the voices) me and my pie eyed compatriots ran out of Rizla - a garage trip was therefore in order - a shock to us as we hadn't ventured outside for a looooong time. Rich James (for James was his name and he was rich(er than us)) decides that we should never run out of papers again and he should buy one of the idustrial sized multipacks and fronted a score (£20) if one of us dared to ask for it all in rizlas. I end up making the arduous (3 min) journey as I figured I could negotiate and keep the change and after a bit of mental arithmatic worked out that I should buy 200 packs.
The rest of the journey was mental preparation - this was the first time I was going to have to interact with people from the real world in days - anyway, got to the garage - there was a queue.
Bugger!
Got to the front and regurgitated my carefully prepared lines;
"various munchies...cheese and onion pastie, packet of golden vadge, 20 Embassy Number 1, 20 Silk Cut and choo hundred packetsh of shilver rishla please" -(I had started salivating uncontrolably).
"What" said the assistant
"choo hunshed packetsh of shilver rishla plesh" I gushed, and having noticed the policeman joining the end of the queue can't help myself but start laughing. After an uncontrolable giggling fit and complete lack of communication for an eternity and despite my fear of getting arrested I managed to suppress the urge to run off into the night and completed my purchase to the glare of a long queue incuding an annoyed copper.
Yay.
(I did run as soon as I got round the corner.)
(Mon 5th Nov 2007, 17:34, More)
schmoking
Back as a permenantly stoned student (when dope used to make one lazy, hungry and giggle as opposed to hearing the voices) me and my pie eyed compatriots ran out of Rizla - a garage trip was therefore in order - a shock to us as we hadn't ventured outside for a looooong time. Rich James (for James was his name and he was rich(er than us)) decides that we should never run out of papers again and he should buy one of the idustrial sized multipacks and fronted a score (£20) if one of us dared to ask for it all in rizlas. I end up making the arduous (3 min) journey as I figured I could negotiate and keep the change and after a bit of mental arithmatic worked out that I should buy 200 packs.
The rest of the journey was mental preparation - this was the first time I was going to have to interact with people from the real world in days - anyway, got to the garage - there was a queue.
Bugger!
Got to the front and regurgitated my carefully prepared lines;
"various munchies...cheese and onion pastie, packet of golden vadge, 20 Embassy Number 1, 20 Silk Cut and choo hundred packetsh of shilver rishla please" -(I had started salivating uncontrolably).
"What" said the assistant
"choo hunshed packetsh of shilver rishla plesh" I gushed, and having noticed the policeman joining the end of the queue can't help myself but start laughing. After an uncontrolable giggling fit and complete lack of communication for an eternity and despite my fear of getting arrested I managed to suppress the urge to run off into the night and completed my purchase to the glare of a long queue incuding an annoyed copper.
Yay.
(I did run as soon as I got round the corner.)
(Mon 5th Nov 2007, 17:34, More)
» Hotel Splendido
On the beach
I was awakened one morning by a glorious golden light, I could feel sand on my cheek, and the smell of salt filled my nostrils.
"Where am I?" I thought.
I had fallen asleep pissed in a grit bin!
(Fri 18th Jan 2008, 16:40, More)
On the beach
I was awakened one morning by a glorious golden light, I could feel sand on my cheek, and the smell of salt filled my nostrils.
"Where am I?" I thought.
I had fallen asleep pissed in a grit bin!
(Fri 18th Jan 2008, 16:40, More)
» Voyeurism
Spilling the beans...
A long long time ago I was a sex starved student* sharing a flat (well shoebox built onto the top of a normal house) with five other sex starved students (unfortunately all male). I had just moved into a room at the rear of the house (it was agreed that we periodically rotate rooms to minimise the hell of shared rooms and the single roopms being different sizes) and I was trying to overcome extreme lack of interest, clashing loud rock and techno beats, the TV (also on full), arguments and mild cannabis intoxication and concentrate on reviving my terminally sick degree.
It was one of those hot, sultry summer London evenings, the night air full of strange scents (not all unpleasant) and everyone had their windows open. During one of my frankly quite frequent window gazing sessions I happened to spot the long shapely and unmistakeably female legs of a girl/woman lying on bed in a room about 2 floors below mine as she was watching TV. My essay now well and truly ignored I could not help notice during subsequent glances that the legs were getting further apart and a hand was idly heading towards her crotch. After much prayer, willpower and luck on my part the hand crept into the panties and much rummaging and writhing ensued. Now the dilemma - to share my good fortune with my housemates or a little self indulgence. The dilemma was resolved by her lasting considerably longer than me, me then spilling the beans after spilling the beans (so to speak) and her climaxing to a window full of spotty cheering students.
This episode explains 1. why Adrian (called student A to protect his identity) whilst originally demanding the room rotating rigmarole became strangely attached to his poky back room, and was not necessarily the book loving swot we once took him for, and 2. why you should never share a sexual experience with your mates - they will ruin it for you!
*I studied Physics at Imperialist College ratio 6:1 M to F (or just ask) hence the starvedness, not just me being a minger!
Click "I like this" if you like this.
(Tue 16th Oct 2007, 16:17, More)
Spilling the beans...
A long long time ago I was a sex starved student* sharing a flat (well shoebox built onto the top of a normal house) with five other sex starved students (unfortunately all male). I had just moved into a room at the rear of the house (it was agreed that we periodically rotate rooms to minimise the hell of shared rooms and the single roopms being different sizes) and I was trying to overcome extreme lack of interest, clashing loud rock and techno beats, the TV (also on full), arguments and mild cannabis intoxication and concentrate on reviving my terminally sick degree.
It was one of those hot, sultry summer London evenings, the night air full of strange scents (not all unpleasant) and everyone had their windows open. During one of my frankly quite frequent window gazing sessions I happened to spot the long shapely and unmistakeably female legs of a girl/woman lying on bed in a room about 2 floors below mine as she was watching TV. My essay now well and truly ignored I could not help notice during subsequent glances that the legs were getting further apart and a hand was idly heading towards her crotch. After much prayer, willpower and luck on my part the hand crept into the panties and much rummaging and writhing ensued. Now the dilemma - to share my good fortune with my housemates or a little self indulgence. The dilemma was resolved by her lasting considerably longer than me, me then spilling the beans after spilling the beans (so to speak) and her climaxing to a window full of spotty cheering students.
This episode explains 1. why Adrian (called student A to protect his identity) whilst originally demanding the room rotating rigmarole became strangely attached to his poky back room, and was not necessarily the book loving swot we once took him for, and 2. why you should never share a sexual experience with your mates - they will ruin it for you!
*I studied Physics at Imperialist College ratio 6:1 M to F (or just ask) hence the starvedness, not just me being a minger!
(Tue 16th Oct 2007, 16:17, More)
» Desperate Times
The lowest point.
Another shameful tale from my stoned student days:-
This one relates to the ill fated time we decided to buy sqidgy black in quantity (half a bar) for the house (four single scummy male dope fiends). You know the sort of gear - the type you don't even need to burn, just roll into little worms a-la plasticine, surround with tobacco, wrap with a rizla, slam in a roach and you're ready to go. Anyway, the good times rolled for a week or so, then abruptly and prematurely ceased. We had been smoking quite a lot and quite fast to "make sure we got our share" and were in no state to face reality without a spliff. To avoid this unpleasantness we ended up dissecting the nub ends in the ashtrays around the flat, picking out the little unburned sausages of resin and re-rolling them.
Genius!
A couple of decent joints later and we were again faced with the same dilemma. Becoming more active my cousin Wobert's eyes alight on the undisposed of five black bin bags of rubbish that have accumulated in our top floorflat during the course of this binge. He reasoned that there was a huge bounty of nub ends in them thar sacks and all we needed to do to "cash in" was cut hole in the lowest point of each sack, shake them hard and nub ends would cascade out like the jackpot from some druggy fruit machine. After a bit of discussion and in desparation we decided that the idea was a go-er, so after a little preparation (two sheets of newspaper on the kitchen floor) the venture commenced.
First came the smell. Even to our deadened senses in an already smelly smoke filled flat this was enough to make us retch. It wasn't so much the sickly sweet stench of three week old kebeb, biryani and used tissues but the tang of penicillin oranges and old cider empties that really made our eyes water - still - windows were opened - it was bearable and far too late to back down. The shaking down continued.
We were rewarded with about 30 dog ends, hopes were raised and all was well until something in a bag shifted and a stream of black, noxious, phoetid liquid poured out over our beautiful butts. Gagging I left the flat for some fresh air (for the first time in days). On my return (15 minutes later - I still didn't want to miss out) Wob was dissecting the "rinsed" mushy smelly results with tweezers and placing potential bits of dope on a sheet of A4 to dry. Another 15 mins and we had a pile of stuff that looked and smelled like guinea pig droppings, another 5 and we had what looked like a respectable reefer.
Wob took the first toke, and to do him justice held it. His face went pale but he got his heaving under control. Then he relaxes, turns to me, says "it's a bit of an acquired taste but it definately gets you stoned!" and passes me the joint.
I inhale .......
This was also the time we got the munchies for Remegel as it was the closest thing to sweets in the house but that's another story.
I have also smoked resin that someone has picked out of their poo with a pen but at least it was in clingfilm.
(Thu 15th Nov 2007, 13:22, More)
The lowest point.
Another shameful tale from my stoned student days:-
This one relates to the ill fated time we decided to buy sqidgy black in quantity (half a bar) for the house (four single scummy male dope fiends). You know the sort of gear - the type you don't even need to burn, just roll into little worms a-la plasticine, surround with tobacco, wrap with a rizla, slam in a roach and you're ready to go. Anyway, the good times rolled for a week or so, then abruptly and prematurely ceased. We had been smoking quite a lot and quite fast to "make sure we got our share" and were in no state to face reality without a spliff. To avoid this unpleasantness we ended up dissecting the nub ends in the ashtrays around the flat, picking out the little unburned sausages of resin and re-rolling them.
Genius!
A couple of decent joints later and we were again faced with the same dilemma. Becoming more active my cousin Wobert's eyes alight on the undisposed of five black bin bags of rubbish that have accumulated in our top floorflat during the course of this binge. He reasoned that there was a huge bounty of nub ends in them thar sacks and all we needed to do to "cash in" was cut hole in the lowest point of each sack, shake them hard and nub ends would cascade out like the jackpot from some druggy fruit machine. After a bit of discussion and in desparation we decided that the idea was a go-er, so after a little preparation (two sheets of newspaper on the kitchen floor) the venture commenced.
First came the smell. Even to our deadened senses in an already smelly smoke filled flat this was enough to make us retch. It wasn't so much the sickly sweet stench of three week old kebeb, biryani and used tissues but the tang of penicillin oranges and old cider empties that really made our eyes water - still - windows were opened - it was bearable and far too late to back down. The shaking down continued.
We were rewarded with about 30 dog ends, hopes were raised and all was well until something in a bag shifted and a stream of black, noxious, phoetid liquid poured out over our beautiful butts. Gagging I left the flat for some fresh air (for the first time in days). On my return (15 minutes later - I still didn't want to miss out) Wob was dissecting the "rinsed" mushy smelly results with tweezers and placing potential bits of dope on a sheet of A4 to dry. Another 15 mins and we had a pile of stuff that looked and smelled like guinea pig droppings, another 5 and we had what looked like a respectable reefer.
Wob took the first toke, and to do him justice held it. His face went pale but he got his heaving under control. Then he relaxes, turns to me, says "it's a bit of an acquired taste but it definately gets you stoned!" and passes me the joint.
I inhale .......
This was also the time we got the munchies for Remegel as it was the closest thing to sweets in the house but that's another story.
I have also smoked resin that someone has picked out of their poo with a pen but at least it was in clingfilm.
(Thu 15th Nov 2007, 13:22, More)