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  • Wherein I Try To Defend My Groin

    .....<mutter>.....



    Again? But That Trick Never Works.

    SC: “I just got home and I want to complain that someone has been in my suite without my permission.”

    Alright, I suppose I could at least take a message. Management is suppose to give notice before entertaining a suite unless it’s on fire or something.

    Me: “Alright, was anything wrong with the suite?”
    SC: “There are papers.”

    ….papers….

    Me: “Papers?”
    SC: “Yeah, you know. Papers. Like a receipt. There’s paper on the floor. It wasn’t there when I left!”

    ….there’s a receipt….on the floor…so someone must have snuck into your apartment?

    SC: “These people have their own agenda! This isn’t like the people 3 doors down. I’m calling as my own person tonight! These people are taking advantage of me-“

    Whoa whoa whoa, wait. I know you. You’re that raging psychotic from a week or two back that was convinced people were tampering with your suite because you came home and the carpet was “wrong”. Bloody Hell, is this a nightly occurrence for you? Do you meticulously map the position of every single object in your home before you leave? Then painstakingly measure it all when you get home because even the slightest millimeter of movement indicates an invader?

    SC: “They’ve taken advantage of me in every single way! Physically, emotionally, financially-“

    You’re drifting off into some really weird territory again….who exactly are these people and/or things that haunt you, sneak into your suite, do unspeakable things to your carpet and then leave a receipt for their services?

    SC: “The building next door is called Dolphin something. Dawson or Dolphin. Dolphin street, Dolphin bay…”

    Dolphins? How did we get to dolphins? I thought we were still talking about leprechauns breaking into your suite and molesting the upholstery?

    Me: “Ok, this is the emergency line for property management. What exactly is it that you want me to do for you? The majority of your concerns should be addressed to the office-“

    Or a psyche ward.

    Me: “-during the day.”
    SC: “Is this an emergency? How would you feel if you came home tonight and some ONE had been inside your suite and you could see that they’d been there!”

    If a receipt was on the floor when I came home I would put it back on top of the fridge and go to bed. But this is because I’m relatively sane and do not attribute the slight displacement of small, unimportant objects in my home to leprechauns, home invaders, alien intervention or shadowy government organizations. Nor do I get down on my knees and examine individual carpet fibers for signs of tampering.

    Luckily for me she eventually became so upset that I wasn’t upset that she hung up. Works for me.



    For My Powers Are Vast

    Me: “and your phone number please?”
    SC: “uh…xxxx”
    Me: “…….”
    SC: “….um, wait, xxx-xxxx?”
    Me: “……”
    SC: “Oh, uh, xxx-xxx-xxxx?”
    Me: “Thank you.

    See that? I’ve actually perfected giving people The Look™ over a phone line.




    Technically...

    Me: “and what city are you in?”
    C: “Las Vegas…..Nevada.”
    Me: “Ok, w-“
    C: “Well, I guess there’s really only one Las Vegas. Isn’t there?”

    That would be a safe assumption to make, yes. But technically there is one other Las Vegas in New Mexico. However, due to certain…..factors, they are pretty easy to tell apart. So next time, if you want to be specific, just say “Las Vegas….you know, the one where you snort coke off the tit of a hooker dressed like Elvis and wake up married to her the next day."

    That should clear up any confusion.




    Public Transit <twitch>

    On the big list of things you don’t want to hear your bus driver say:

    Passenger: “Hey, you’ve got that blue LED on your speedometers now.”
    Driver: “Yeah, pretty cool, ain’t it?”
    Passenger: “Yeah..”
    Driver: “It’s even cooler when you’re sober!”
    Passenger: “Hah, yeah. Well jus get us there fast, ok?”
    Driver: “I’ll drive it like I stole it, hang on.”

    And indeed he did. >.>


    867

    Me: “and what would you like to order?”
    SC: “SHIRT!$%!#%!”
    Me: “….ok, what’s the id number?”
    SC: “xxxx-xx”
    Me: “Alright, and what size would you like?”
    SC: “Uh….are they same size as pants?!”
    Me: “…..no, they come in shirt sizes.”
    SC: “Um…..28!?”
    Me: “…..the highest I have is 11”
    SC: “Oh…uh…..”

    I believe I just pointed out you can’t apply the size of your jeans to a shirt. In fact if my sizing guide here is correct a size 28 shirt would be almost twice the size of a 28’’ pair of pants. So unless the rest of the village is planning to use you as a novelty kite for some sort of walrus shaving festival I think you better take a look at the catalog again and pick a number that actually appears under the item.

    Me: “ok, anything else?”
    SC: “Um, shirt, xxxx-xx”
    Me: “Alright, in what size?”
    SC: “Uh…..30!!!”

    …didn’t we just cover this? Was my previous explanation insufficient or are you just trying to upgrade from kite flying to dog sled paragliding?



    867

    Me: “and your postal code?”
    SC: “Uh….X….um….”
    Me: “……”
    SC: “uh…..wait, lemme get my mom. You can ask her.”

    Yes, of course. I mean you only sound like you’re what? 35? 36? Clearly you don’t yet possess the maturity to handle the kind of responsibility I’m placing in your hands during this grueling interrogation. Perhaps someday, when you’re all grown up ( Say 40? 50? ) you’ll be ready to handle this awesome responsibility. Until then, isn’t it past your bed time? It is a school night, young man and the 6th grade waits for no one.


    Right..

    SC: “Oh, I didn’t even think! I’m English, sorry.”

    That’s a strange explanation for your lack of mental capacity. England doesn’t leap to mind when I think of people that are tragically deficient in functioning brain cells. There is a place that does come to mind, but its more….north.



    ....

    SC: “I NEVER TALK FOR YOU!”

    Right back at ya, crack weasel.



    STOP TOUCHING ME
    ( Friday the 13th.. >< )

    I swear some nights the best part about working downtown is simply the fact that there’s an elevator and 2 locked doors separately me from everyone else downtown. So on that note, I would like to drop a few notes to a select few individuals this evening. A “shout out” to my “homies” if you will.

    1) To the guy that got on the Skytrain at Joyce station: A zipped up winter coat, Hawaiian shorts, flipflops and a 6 pack? Really? If I ever reach the point where my train of thought seriously goes “Well, I want something from the store. But I can’t be bothered actually putting pants or shoes on. But it is kinda chilly out so I should grab my jacket.” please just shove me off the platform onto the track just as the train is pulling in.

    2) To the gold chain laden iPod rat boy that got on at Patterson: Hold. On. To. Something. The last two stops have propelled you off balance and almost ended with your face in my groin. This is not an arrangement I find appealing in any way shape or form and I would like to avoid it at any and all costs even if it puts you at great personal risk.

    3) To the tarted up bar hopping she-creature and cohort that got on at Broadway. Thank you for cramming me right into the corner against the door. The 3 inches of personal space you allowed me was magnificent for basking in whatever glorious Wal-Mart $8.99 special fragrance you had painted on yourself before leaving the barn. Also: Hold. On. To. Something. Daintily pressing one hand against the ceiling in such a fashion as to not damage your rainbow pastel eagle talon like nails does not constitute a stable foundation. Which of course meant every turn sent you backwards to cram your misshapen behind into my groin. I do not want you in my groin anymore then I wanted rat boy in that area. In fact if I had to make a choice I’d probably take rat boy over you. For all his flaws at least he had tunes and he didn’t reek like a basket of dollar store potpourri.


    4) To the co-hort of tarted up bar hopping she-creature that stayed on the train after she-creature got off at main street: Can you please take one set forward so that your purse isn’t wedged into my groin? I know your aromatic friend established the precedent of standing a mere 3 inchs from me but she’s gone now and there’s plenty of space. I don’t know what the hell it is about you people and trying to molest me on public transit this evening but I’d really appreciate it if everyone would just stay away from my groin.

    Have I mentioned how much I love Friday nights in this city?



    867

    Me: “Ok, and what would you like to order?”
    SC: “Uh, you know, this JUICE. On page 39.”
    Me: “…juice?”
    SC: “The temp juice. Xxxx-xx”
    Me: “…you mean the cooler?”
    SC: “Yeah!”

    Temp juice? What the hell? How did you even come up with that term? Like I really believe you’re going to keep juice in it.

    SC: “and one more thing, a hat.”

    A beer cooler and a hat? Isn’t that the Coat of Arms for Nunavut?

    Me: “Ok, what size?”
    SC: “11.”
    Me: “….it would have to be a size like 7-1/2, 7-1/4, etc.”
    SC: “28”
    Me: “….”

    I’m dead, aren’t I? I’m dead and this is some sort of purgatory where I’m paying for everything bad I ever did in my life. My Skytrain derailed coming into downtown and slammed right through Science World then teetered into the harbour. I’m a wide eyed, bloated corpse 40 feet underwater right now with both hands desperately trying to protect my groin, aren’t I?

    Well, damn.


    You People Need To Be Shot Too

    Me: “Good morning, <co-“
    SC: “GOOD MORNING!”
    Me: “Hello, ho-“
    SC: “HOW ARE YOU TODAY?!”

    Ok, look here, Skippy. There’s nothing wrong with being cheerful. But there’s cheerful cheerful and then there’s “Makes other people want to beat you about the head and neck with a tire iron then roll the corpse off a pier in the dead of night” cheerful. Guess which one you are?



    To Each Their Own

    Caller called to complain that our news story this evening implied homeless people should try to stay in shelters if at all possible. Caller indicated a nice, cool, urine soaked doorway was more comfortable and less “stuffy”. He resented the implication he should find some place to sleep that was warm, indoors and/or not soaked in urine.


    And Again....

    It seems I must continue my public transit “shout outs” again this evening.

    1) To the skinny white skater boy in the “You can take the kid out of the ghetto but you can’t take the ghetto out of the kid” t-shirt: HAhahahahahahaha <gasp> Wait…wait…<snerk> ahahahahahahaha. Dude, you’re listening to an iPod and sipping a Starbucks iced mocha. You’re about as “ghetto” as The Gap. Which is where I’m sure you work part time after school to keep your iPod stocked with Eminem and Good Charlotte.

    If you spend 24 hours in a real ghetto you'd end up in a back alley somewhere on your knees in a blue sequin dress answering to the name of "Pixiesticks" and wondering if you will ever, ever, EVER be able to get this taste out of your mouth.


    2) To the 60 something German man that sat down beside me: Yes, that seat is free and you are welcome to take it. It is freely offered to the public. However, can you please not cuddle up to me? You smell like pickles and sadness.


    3) To the Circus de Soleil performers heading downtown: You guys are awesome. I wish I had a valid excuse to wear an outfit like that in public. -.-

    A boy can dream.



    867

    Me: “and your name please?”
    SC: “Michael.”
    Me: “Ok, last name?”
    SC: “Jackson.”
    Me: “…….”
    SC: “…….”
    Me: “….Michael Jackson?”
    SC: “Yeah.”
    Me: “….your name is really Michael Jackson?”
    SC: “Uh…..oh. Wait, no. <lastname>, Michael <lastname>.”

    Wow. Just, wow. Here's a math problem for you: How much beer / whiskey / gas huffing / blows to the head do you have to endure to reach a mental state where you seriously have to sit down for a minute and think to figure out whether or not you’re Michael Jackson?

    Me: “Postal code, please?”
    SC: “Uh, XXX XXX”
    Me: “Ok, and do you have a box number or-“
    SC: "<Repeats postal code>"
    Me: “Yes. But do you have a box number or is it general delivery?”
    SC: “Didn’t I already tell you?”
    Me: “No, you told me your postal code.”
    SC: “Oh, uh…”

    Ok, you are way, way too drunk to be attempting this. I don’t know exactly how much alcohol you’ve consumed this evening but I’m willing to bet your blood is probably flammable at this point. You may want to just set the phone down and seek immediate medical assistance.

    Me: “and what would you like to order?”
    SC: “Uh…..um….hold on….”

    ( At this point someone else picks up another phone in the house )

    SC2: “411?”

    ( I have no idea why they picked up the phone to say that. )

    SC: “LISA! I’M ON THE PHONE!$@”
    SC2: “Ok, geez.”
    SC: “Bye!”

    At this point they both hung up their respective phones. Thus hanging up on me. He never called back. I assume because he succumbed to alcohol poisoning.



    Patience

    SC: “Yes, hi, I called a little while ago? No one’s shown up yet.”
    Me: “Well, I did page the resident manager for you.”
    SC: “It’s been over 10 minutes.”

    ( Actually, it’s been exactly 4 minutes according to my call logs )

    Me: “Well it’s only been a few minutes since I paged him.”
    SC: “I just thought someone would be here FASTER. But I understand and I’ll wait patiently.”

    Oh, really? Will you? Whew, well, that’s a load off my shoulders! Why I’ve spent literally the last 4 whole minutes just wracked with worry about how long you’d end up waiting.


    867

    Me: “Alright and your name please?”
    SC: “Uh…ragabblleffulslalsaaal………blaraaf……<click> ”

    Ok, now he’s succumbed to alcohol poisoning.



    867
    ( A very, very obviously male caller... )

    Me: “Ok, and your name please?”
    SC: “Anne.”
    Me: “….Anne?”
    SC: “Yeah.”
    Me: “…are you placing an order for Anne?”
    SC: “Uh…no.”
    Me: “So, your name is ireally Anne?”
    SC: “Uhhhh....er....um...….yeah?”

    The only way your name is Anne is if you just underwent a rather elaborate surgical procedure and the hormone treatments haven’t kicked in yet.



    Really? No way!

    SC: “Pacific time? That’s like…uh…what…9am here….”
    Me: “In an hour and a half.”
    SC: “Ah, ok. I’m in Jamaica and Jamaica’s like a WHOLE other time, dude..”

    Umm….yes, yes it is. It’s also rather notable for some of its…er..….crops……which you seem to have been partaking in. Heavily.



    and I rest....
    Last edited by Gravekeeper; 06-15-2008, 09:59 PM.

  • #2
    I've been to Las Vegas, NM. Not much there...

    I'm afraid to ask, but what do you do on your time off from work anyways? Do you shoot random pedestrians with a water pistol with red dye in the water?





    Edit: Wooooooot! First post! *victory disco*
    Ridiculous 2009 Predictions: Evil Queen will beat Martha Stewart to death with a muffin pan. All hail Evil Queen! (Some things don't need elaboration.....) -- Jester

    Ridiculous 2010 Predictions: Evil Queen, after escaping prison for last years prediction, goes out and waffle irons Rachel Ray to death. -- SG15Z

    Ridiculous 2011 Prediction: Evil Queen will beat Gordon Ramsay over the head with a cast-iron skillet. -- FireHeart

    Comment


    • #3
      Quoth Gravekeeper View Post
      See that? I’ve actually perfected giving people The Look™ over a phone line.

      Me: “Ok, what size?”
      SC: “11.”
      Me: “….it would have to be a size like 7-1/2, 7-1/4, etc.”
      SC: “28”

      Me: “Alright and your name please?”
      SC: “Uh…ragabblleffulslalsaaal………blaraaf……<click> ”


      Me: “Ok, and your name please?”
      SC: “Anne.”
      Me: “….Anne?”
      SC: “Yeah.”
      Me: “…are you placing an order for Anne?”
      SC: “Uh…no.”
      Me: “So, your name is ireally Anne?”
      SC: “Uhhhh....er....um...….yeah?”
      So... congrats on developing your new super power...
      Didn't we just go over the sizing issue? Who the hell needs a hat in a size 28? Can you even keep your head atop your shoulders at that size?
      The Hamburglar contacted you?
      I've had my name mistaken for Anne so freaking often now, it's uncanny. I've started to respond to that, as well as my nickname, plus my other nicknames, but not my legal name...
      Man, so close to being first on a GK post...
      "I call murder on that!"

      Comment


      • #4
        Quoth Gravekeeper View Post
        See that? I’ve actually perfected giving people The Look™ over a phone line.
        That's awesome!

        Quoth Gravekeeper View Post
        867

        Me: “Ok, and what would you like to order?”
        SC: “Uh, you know, this JUICE. On page 39.”
        Me: “…juice?”
        SC: “The temp juice. Xxxx-xx”
        Me: “…you mean the cooler?”
        SC: “Yeah!”

        Temp juice? What the hell? How did you even come up with that term? Like I really believe you’re going to keep juice in it.
        Temp juice? I just gotta wonder how their brain works to see a cooler and think "temp juice."

        Quoth Gravekeeper View Post
        867

        Me: “and your name please?”
        SC: “Michael.”
        Me: “Ok, last name?”
        SC: “Jackson.”
        Me: “…….”
        SC: “…….”
        Me: “….Michael Jackson?”
        SC: “Yeah.”
        Me: “….your name is really Michael Jackson?”
        SC: “Uh…..oh. Wait, no. <lastname>, Michael <lastname>.”

        Wow. Just, wow. Here's a math problem for you: How much beer / whiskey / gas huffing / blows to the head do you have to endure to reach a mental state where you seriously have to sit down for a minute and think to figure out whether or not you’re Michael Jackson?
        The thing I find funny about this is I actually have an uncle named Michael Jackson. I wonder how he deals with it sometimes.
        "...WHY DO YOU TEMPT WHAT LITTLE FAITH IN HUMANITY I HAVE!?!" ~ Kalga

        "DO NOT ENRAGE THE MIGHTY SKY DRAGON." ~ Gravekeeper

        Comment


        • #5
          Quoth Gravekeeper View Post
          1) To the guy that got on the Skytrain at Joyce station: A zipped up winter coat, Hawaiian shorts, flipflops and a 6 pack? Really? If I ever reach the point where my train of thought seriously goes “Well, I want something from the store. But I can’t be bothered actually putting pants or shoes on. But it is kinda chilly out so I should grab my jacket.” please just shove me off the platform onto the track just as the train is pulling in.

          It will happen to you too. One day when you least expect it you will find yourself out in some odd combination of clothing that here to fore would have been completely unacceptable. Once it happens the first time it's just a downhill slide.... At this point I would shop in my boxers and bath robe if it wasn't so much trouble to get the bunny slippers on.

          Steve B.
          Last edited by NightAngel; 06-16-2008, 08:26 AM.

          Comment


          • #6
            Quoth Gravekeeper View Post

            3) To the Circus de Soleil performers heading downtown: You guys are awesome. I wish I had a valid excuse to wear an outfit like that in public. -.-

            A boy can dream.

            867

            Me: “and your name please?”
            SC: “Michael.”
            Me: “Ok, last name?”
            SC: “Jackson.”
            Me: “…….”
            SC: “…….”
            Me: “….Michael Jackson?”
            SC: “Yeah.”
            Me: “….your name is really Michael Jackson?”
            SC: “Uh…..oh. Wait, no. <lastname>, Michael <lastname>.”

            Wow. Just, wow. Here's a math problem for you: How much beer / whiskey / gas huffing / blows to the head do you have to endure to reach a mental state where you seriously have to sit down for a minute and think to figure out whether or not you’re Michael Jackson?

            I saw the same Cirque people when they were in Portland with Corteo. At first I just chalked them up to another day in the city, then when I saw the same costumes a few MAX (light rail) stops down, I figured something was up. Then I saw the Corteo ads they were handing out - had to get one, since we had tickets for the show.

            And...

            I used to work with a Michael Jackson. He was older than the Gloved One, and he went by Mike, but it's the same name. He was not as nutty as the Gloved One.
            That is so full of suck Dyson doesn't know how they did it - shankyknitter

            Comment


            • #7
              ...Michael...Jackson...>_<; Insta-headache.
              "Because that's how magical meteoric size-altering space goo works." IMDB Message boards.

              Comment


              • #8
                Quoth Imprl59 View Post
                It will happen to you too. One day when you least expect it you will find yourself out in some odd combination of clothing that here to fore would have been completely unacceptable. Once it happens the first time it's just a downhill slide.... At this point I would shop in my boxers and bath robe if it wasn't so much trouble to get the bunny slippers on. Steve B.
                I signed on (for non-brits, the fortnightly visit to the unemployment office to prove I was looking for work and therefore elegible for benefits, a whole £28.60 at the time.) in my pyjamas twice.
                Pyjamas with penguins on (Mum was a big bird watcher), black boots and black jacket. The Dole office back then gave you specific times to sign on. Mine was 10:00 Monday morning. So I signed on, then walked home and went back to bed.
                Worked fine the first time.
                Second time, there was a job vacancy which fitted my skills, in the army, initial interview _now_. So I ended up in the army recruting office in my pyjamas.

                Comment


                • #9
                  Quoth Gravekeeper View Post
                  Management is suppose to give notice before entertaining a suite unless it’s on fire or something.
                  Um, I think you mean "entered." If Management is entertaining suites when no one is there, they really need to work on their social skills.

                  Considering your status as the Customers Suck Official Entertainment Center, I normally overlook the typos I see in your posts, few though they are. This one, I just couldn't let go. I'm sure you'll see the humor in it though!

                  Quoth Gravekeeper View Post
                  SC: “They’ve taken advantage of me in every single way! Physically, emotionally, financially-“
                  Every single way, huh? And here I thought that only happened in prison. So, should we call this caller of yours Management's bitch now?

                  Quoth Gravekeeper View Post
                  See that? I’ve actually perfected giving people The Look™ over a phone line.
                  Now THAT is talent. I am still working on it. But I guarantee you that I HAVE perfected the "Do Something Wrong With My Niece and You'll Think What Happened in The Hostel Was a Picnic" Look towards certain young men!

                  Quoth Gravekeeper View Post
                  1) To the guy that got on the Skytrain at Joyce station: A zipped up winter coat, Hawaiian shorts, flipflops and a 6 pack?
                  Amusingly, I can picture myself in just that outfit. Hell, on some of our colder days here, I probably HAVE worn that. Or close to it. I hate having cold feet, so sandals when it's cold, not gonna happen. But yeah, for the most part, shorts, heavy coat, six-pack.....I can see that being a cold night Jester beer run!

                  Quoth Gravekeeper View Post
                  3) To the Circus de Soleil performers heading downtown: You guys are awesome. I wish I had a valid excuse to wear an outfit like that in public.
                  Why do you need an excuse? Seriously, I once voted on Election Day in a court jester's outfit!

                  Quoth Gravekeeper View Post
                  SC: “Yes, hi, I called a little while ago? No one’s shown up yet.”
                  Me: “Well, I did page the resident manager for you.”
                  SC: “It’s been over 10 minutes.”

                  ( Actually, it’s been exactly 4 minutes according to my call logs )
                  Now you know what it's like to work in a restaurant. People will order a well-done burger, and ten minutes after they've ordered it, before it could POSSIBLY be even close done, they will bitch and moan and ask where their food is, as it's been WELL OVER HALF AN HOUR! Any time someone complains about a time factor in a restaurant, you can guarantee that their stated time complaint is a minimum of twice the amount of real time that has passed.

                  So, now that you're officially a server, stop slacking in that chair of yours and get cracking rolling that silverware, boy!

                  "The Customer Is Always Right...But The Bartender Decides Who Is
                  Still A Customer."

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    1) To the guy that got on the Skytrain at Joyce station: A zipped up winter coat, Hawaiian shorts, flipflops and a 6 pack? Really?
                    Sounds like the same way we know it's summer. Some guy in a bomber jacket, hiking boots and a speedo (or some such version of the outfit)

                    "You'd feel a Hell of a lot better if you'd just rip into the occasional customer."
                    ~Clerks

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      SC: “Oh, I didn’t even think! I’m English, sorry.”

                      That’s a strange explanation for your lack of mental capacity. England doesn’t leap to mind when I think of people that are tragically deficient in functioning brain cells. There is a place that does come to mind, but its more….north.



                      what do you mean, Scotland?(your'e probably right)
                      "Light a fire for someone and he will be warm all day,
                      set light to someone and he will be warm for the rest of his life" Sir Samuel Vimes

                      Real stupidity beats artificial intelligence every time.

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        Quoth Juwl View Post
                        I've started to respond to that, as well as my nickname, plus my other nicknames, but not my legal name...
                        We had a guy like that in the dorms back in college. A bunch of people had nicknames (not me, I was one of the people who gave out nicknames), but his was one of the oddest. His was Rob. Why was that odd? Because his name was Jonathan. But so many people called him Rob that he started to respond to that, so much so that one day he was walking on campus, and someone yelled out to him "Jonathan!" and it took him a moment to realize someone was addressing him! His parents were also rather confused over Christmas Break when he started getting mail addressed to "Rob [HisLastName]."

                        Quoth Imprl59 View Post
                        At this point I would shop in my boxers and bath robe if it wasn't so much trouble to get the bunny slippers on.
                        Hell, I HAVE gone to the store in my pajamas. The bar once or twice too.

                        What can I say? I'm a casual guy!

                        "The Customer Is Always Right...But The Bartender Decides Who Is
                        Still A Customer."

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          Reading this just made me feel so much better.

                          I'm beginning to wonder if there are any places around here where people call and order clothes/stuff from catalogues. If so, I wonder if we have any local GKs...
                          You really need to see a neurologist. - Wagegoth

                          Comment


                          • #14
                            Quoth scruff View Post
                            So I ended up in the army recruting office in my pyjamas.
                            I could get you done for attempted murder I laughed so hard

                            What was the position?

                            I almost ended up in the British Army too, until my back crapped out on me partwya through training. People seem to find it at odds with my personality that I was going to be/wanting to be A frontline Combat Infantryman
                            I am the nocturnal echo-locating flying mammal man.

                            Comment


                            • #15
                              ok to GK.... i feel sorry for your crotch, though it was funny for me, though seriously you have to begin to wonder if the poeple going for your crotch are anyone of us, oh and i blame you for my dog freaking out

                              Quoth scruff View Post
                              I signed on (for non-brits, the fortnightly visit to the unemployment office to prove I was looking for work and therefore elegible for benefits, a whole £28.60 at the time.) in my pyjamas twice.
                              Pyjamas with penguins on (Mum was a big bird watcher), black boots and black jacket. The Dole office back then gave you specific times to sign on. Mine was 10:00 Monday morning. So I signed on, then walked home and went back to bed.
                              Worked fine the first time.
                              Second time, there was a job vacancy which fitted my skills, in the army, initial interview _now_. So I ended up in the army recruting office in my pyjamas.
                              second....
                              OMG.. what makes it funny is i can so see that being made into a comic

                              Comment

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