At least I have never

The home of schadenfreude, where you can take comfort in the fact that no matter what your most hideously embarrassing moment was, there is always something worse that has happened to someone else and you can rest safe in the knowledge that at least you have never done that.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

you naughty necrophiliac you (in three sordid acts)

Act 1
At least I've never gone to Inquisition, and met a hot guy (or so I thought at the time) on the dance floor whom I thought my age (26 at the time). We pash for, I don't know, 30 seconds, five minutes, half an hour - when you're that off your chops it's easy to slip into a worm hole, or a K hole, or a myriad of other holes, and time means shit. (Earlier in the night I enjoyed a group of men walk past, all without heads. The heads levitated about ten metres behind following the men. I also saw the devil on the dance floor, and at one point every one was covered in head-to-toe tattoos.) Anyway, because of this, that and the other, Hot Man and I have to separate but we make arrangements to meet at his house at 8am, quite far away but who cares, he's worth the cab ride. Until 8am, when somewhat more with it, I stand at his door, and he's quite possibly twice my age, or at least in his late forties. Despite whatever he might think, the bong in the living room doesn't make him appear any more youthful. He offers, I decline, and somehow we end up in the bedroom. The passion of only a few hours before is all but gone - in me but not him, unfortunately. He's very much up for it; ten inches up at least, in fact. He's not a foreplay kind of guy, either. It's just that if I only wanted a thick, long vessel up my arse, I'd go with a cucumber and be done without the small talk, quite frankly. Citing headache, I suggest a nap before getting down to business. And the wait begins. Half an hour later he's finally asleep and I manage to crawl from behind him in bed, gather my clothes and get into the stairway, completely starkers. I accidentally bang his door and bolt. Of course I gave him my number, I'm not that smart. After a month the unanswered phone calls finally cease. At least I've never done that.

Act 2
At least I've never almost fallen off an elliptical runner when my personal trainer, whom I accidentally had sex with six or so times, tells me his age and it starts with a five. At least I've never done that.

Act 3
At least I've never googled the oldest person I ever slept with, when I was 19, and the man was, I don't know, mid-fifties, early sixties? I was horny, and omnivorous, at the time. Now, some 14 years later, at work, I cannot believe what appears before my eyes. I'm generally a quiet type of person, but I snort-laugh when I see this:

[photo deleted to protect the near-dead. or the recently passed, as it seemed... if you missed it, tough shit.]

And unfortunately I have no doubt I have hit the jackpot here, despite the passage of time. Or because of it, whichever the case may be.

At least I've never done that. Ok, yeah I did, acts 1 & 3, with 2 coming courtesy of my partner-in-drinking-crimes, N. Who actually has featured here once before, too. August 7, 2007, to be exact.

Community shervices... We'll have that down pat when the time comes.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

shark bait

At least I've never worn a white swimming costume to the beach at that time of the month. On the bright side, now we know that water-logged tampons work much less well than one would hope.

Saturday, February 09, 2008

man in the mirror

(This is old but belongs here.)
At least I've never tried to flog some furniture on eBay, and inadvertently revealed my penchant for nudism at home. Or was I multi-tasking, getting photos for eBay and dudesnude at the same time? Whatever, I am now everywhere on the net.

At least I've never done that. Naked photos of me in the mirror on the other hand, sans furniture...

Friday, January 25, 2008

christmas minge

At least I have never gone to the staff Christmas party, and spent the first part of the day like a true closet alcoholic, loudly commenting on how little I drink in general and especially today. By the time I'm reasonably plastered, this has changed to quiet questions to my colleagues as to whether they think I'm too drunk or not. Fully aware of my reputation as a sponge and a bit of a party girl from way back, they keep telling me, "No, not at all; have another drink." I do not disappoint.

Later, I proceed to show my undergarments to any conscious male at the bar we are now at, hoping to arouse interest, and raise more. I seem to have forgotten that I have a boyfriend of four years patiently waiting for me at his place - never mind that three short weeks later I will trade him for the one I've been having an affair with for a while now. When all my attempts to attract ANY male attention fail - the only things raised are eyebrows - I turn to my own sex, and much closer to home, in the form of a female colleague. "X, please come and sleep with me. Please, you have to sleep with me tonight. Please... I NEED to sleep with you." [ed. note: I couldn't be bothered with trying to type in manner of severe slurring. Imagine Judy Garland, pickled in vodka for a week after multiple tooth removal, and you get close.] This attempt, in full view of all remaining staff, also fails and my colleagues, feeling awkward and uncomfortable, have great trouble packing me into a taxi.

Come January, it's fairly clear I have no recollection of the events at all. Luckily for you, dear reader, every other staff member does.

At least I've never done that. And I wish I'd gone to the staff Christmas party after all.

Friday, January 11, 2008

sloppy birthday to you

At least I have never attended the 30th birthday of an old high school mate. [In order for you to understand the full story, it must be stated that my friend and I went to an all-boys school.] The celebrations must have got somewhat raucous as at one point I end in an impromptu birthday present performance for the birthday boy, also known as fellatio. Because what's to stop a nice boy giving another a fantastic blow job?

Well, there is the birthday boy's girlfriend, for one. Her partner's openness to same-sex sex acts comes as a shock as she walks in on us, but rather than ditch him, she merely bans him from ever seeing me again. Which we presume to mean that he now gets his cock sucked by other boys. Then there is my boyfriend, fast asleep in another room. We split up not long after.

At least I've never done that, but I do feel somewhat left out, as the friend who did, attended many of my birthdays in my single days and he merely bought me a drink instead.

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

criminal idiots, part 5478

I just love plans that haven't been thought through beyond the first step.

Sunday, January 06, 2008


Although slim(y) at the moment, this actually is one of my great fears in life. To be known for nothing else but the fact I could not heave myself off the floor.