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Last updated on August 9th, 2017 at 07:48 am
Tell us something about you.
UPDATE. Highlights:
* “As a child I cut my right thumb off in a dishwashing/telephone-talking accident and had to have it re-attached.”
* “I’m a vegetarian environmentalist.”
* “I’m the only guy I know who burned down a swamp.”
* “For years my toys were spools of thread.”
* “I tasted raccoon meat on Sunday.”
* “My hair turned white when I was in my mid-30s, but I still have all of it.”
* “I attended fourteen grade schools.”
* “One night I got stabbed in the neck during a robbery.”
* “I’m starting my first golf lessons this Sunday in Sydney.”
* “Once, by imitating a bird call, I got a flock of barn swallows to attack a blackbird.”
* “I was baptized in the jungles of Sumatra by missionaries.”
* “I am the most fortunate man alive.”
* “I’m 40 and have never been out of the Eastern time zone.”
* “When I was 16, I had a 12-month secret affair with a 23-year-old friend of the family.”
* “I got stabbed in a fight when I was ten years old.”
UPDATE II. Further revelations:
* “I have a golliwog.”
* “I’ve had half a dozen marriage proposals.”
* “I walked in on a drug deal in a ranger station in Belize involving something like $50,000 in cash.”
* “I admit that hitting my brother at that range with a BB gun involved not a little divine intervention.”
* “Been set on fire by my dad.”
* “I was bitten on the arm by a monkey.”
* “I once watched ‘Monty Python’s Flying Circus’ on TV with Marshall McLuhan.”
* “When I was hitchhiking in Europe I got a lift in a van with a son of the Bader-Meinhoff gang.”
- As a child I cut my right thumb off in a dishwashing/telephone-talking accident and had to have it re-attached.Posted by Donnah on 2006 09 27 at 01:42 PM • permalink
- I’m from Wisconsin and I like cheese. I think all the Australians I’ve met are cool. My wife and I own a home in Chiang Mai, Thailand.Posted by Uncle Lefty on 2006 09 27 at 01:51 PM • permalink
- I’m about to get a promotion at work. They’re finally giving me a scrub brush.Posted by andycanuck on 2006 09 27 at 01:59 PM • permalink
- Even though everyone else thought it was terrible, I went and saw ‘Vanilla Sky’ at the cinema five times in two weeks. Loved it.Posted by Villeurbanne on 2006 09 27 at 01:59 PM • permalink
- There was this one time, at band camp…Posted by Sharon_Ferguson on 2006 09 27 at 02:06 PM • permalink
- “2. I was born a poor black child.”
But can you sing the blues?
Posted by Bruce Rheinstein on 2006 09 27 at 02:14 PM • permalink
- Hmmm… bit tame so far. Let’s throw in something controversial (well, on this blog at least – just about everywhere else I’d probably be brown nosing).
I’m a vegetarian environmentalist.
That said, I feel the need to leap to a pre-emptive defense.
By ‘environmentalist’, I mean: I think it’s a good idea to try and keep your backyard clean, metaphorically speaking. I’m not into non-religious religion, I just think it’s sensible to clean up after yourself.
I also believe that the current environmental movement has more to do with self-righteous demagogy based on questionable science than the environment – if you haven’t spent 30 minutes digging a hole in the last decade, you shouldn’t be ranting on about environmental care. If you genuinely gave a damn, you’d have planted at least one or two trees which would’ve involved some digging.
Hmmm… that’s not entirely accurate because my understanding is that most trees are actually carbon emitters during their early years, but probably good enough to outline my general opinion.
As far as the vegetarianism goes, if you have a restriction – even if it is artificial – on your diet, you appreciate your food more. Plus it’s downright hypocritical to eat meat unless you’d be prepared to kill and slaughter it yourself and, while I would be prepared to do that, I’d only do it if absolutely necessary cos I think killing a conscious being is rude.
- I am, apparently, a fascist.Posted by Jim Treacher on 2006 09 27 at 02:26 PM • permalink
- Well, okay.
I am not related to Anne Summers. Or Larry Summers.
As far as I know.
Posted by Ken Summers on 2006 09 27 at 02:36 PM • permalink
- My ex-wife once had an affair with my girlfriend.
So I went fishing for six months.Posted by Crusader rabbit on 2006 09 27 at 02:44 PM • permalink
- Grew up raising our own food. Raised chicken, turkey, pheasant and game hens and beef (2 steer a year, one for slaughter, the other for growing until ready for slaughter, in cycle) as food stock. Kept our own veggie garden, blackberry vine and pumpkin patches. The fence in the backyard was nearly buried under grape vines. The only trees planted where those that gave fruit so peaches, pears and oranges were fresh in season and canned for the off seasons.
This was all on a 3/4 acre lot so nothing of commercial quantity nor overwhelming work requirements, just enough to keep the grocery bills down to manageable levels for a family of 7.
- I once had a dog so smart she knew four different ways to open doors.Posted by Rob Crawford on 2006 09 27 at 02:49 PM • permalink
- I tend to think TRUE environmentalism follows the advice I got from my grandparents : Waste Not, Want Not.
And in looking into the matter myself, those who are the most environmentally conscious are those who understand what investing in a stewardship of the place around them means….not the radical Leftist Marxist scree that so many Watermelons spout now.
Posted by Sharon_Ferguson on 2006 09 27 at 02:52 PM • permalink
- I’m off to the wedding of one of my nieces this weekend. She’s marrying a good guy. They already have two children, so it’s good to see the committment, and I want to support them to the max.
Anything else? Well, I’m still remodeling my house…..the contractor backed out, so I’m on the prowl again. Nothing in writing, no money involved, not a big deal, just a delay.
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 09 27 at 02:55 PM • permalink
- Well, okay.
I am not related to Anne Summers. Or Larry Summers.
As far as I know
What about Suzanne?
Posted by Mr. Bingley on 2006 09 27 at 03:07 PM • permalink
- I’m withholding the details for a book/movie/syndication deal.
I have a lust for Alfa-Romeos and Maseratis.
Yikes, I’ve said too much !Posted by Harry Bergeron on 2006 09 27 at 03:09 PM • permalink
- I have thoughts of killing……………….Bin Laden.Posted by Joe Gringo on 2006 09 27 at 03:11 PM • permalink
- I’m the only guy I know who burned down a swamp.Posted by Gary from Jersey on 2006 09 27 at 03:13 PM • permalink
- I live in the Blue Zone Heart of Darkness (that’s Chicago, Illinois) I like to dance (both swing and belly, though not at the same time) and I’m looking for someone who can teach me how to use a shotgun.Posted by Sonetka’s Mom on 2006 09 27 at 03:16 PM • permalink
- I forgot to add that I make really good chocolate-filled croissants.
Gary, how do you burn down a swamp?
Posted by Sonetka’s Mom on 2006 09 27 at 03:20 PM • permalink
- In Jersey the water is flamable, Mom of Sonetka.Posted by Mr. Bingley on 2006 09 27 at 03:21 PM • permalink
- I used to play with bones…labeled them, glued them together. Did this in college in the after hours at the phys anth lab. Its those volunteer hours that got me my first Archaeology job – as a supervisor no less.Posted by Sharon_Ferguson on 2006 09 27 at 03:22 PM • permalink
- 35. Easy, like Mr. Bingley said. First you get a couple of pals, steal your old man’s smokes. then you find the most flammable mattress in the swamp and smoke. Then you get bored and burn the mattress and try to put it out with your shirt. Toss burning shirt into the weeds and wait for the sirens before running like hell.Posted by Gary from Jersey on 2006 09 27 at 03:27 PM • permalink
- I just finished brewing my first batch of limoncello liqueur.
Take 2 bottles vodka, zest 12 lemons, add zest to vodka and let sit for a month. Squeeze the lemons and freeze the juice in an ice cube tray. When the month is up, strain out the lemon zest, make a syrup of half sugar and half water, and start adding lemon juice and syrup (alternating till you get it the way you like it). Bottle and let sit for another month, then drink.
It came out rather well. It makes a lot; my friends and neighbors are VERY happy with me right now.
- I grew up in the states with a reel-to-reel tape of Slim Dusty singing The Pub with No BeerPosted by tabitharuth on 2006 09 27 at 03:33 PM • permalink
- 40.
Boy, I thought MY neighbors were cheap. They waited a month for a free buzz?
Posted by Gary from Jersey on 2006 09 27 at 03:38 PM • permalink
- 91B30 – No unfortunately…wish fervently that I did. I homeschool now, centering the lessons around a Western Civ curriculum…but thats as close as I can get at this moment…which is okay…am hoping that after the daughter leaves the nest, I can pick up where I left off. Its my hope to work at Pompeii or Herculaneum…
WOW O WOW!!! I love that discovery – especially finding some buildings that had been relatively untouched!! I love hearing of things like this – thank you for sharing! And very fascinating that the Spanish made inroads that far into the NA continent!
Posted by Sharon_Ferguson on 2006 09 27 at 03:39 PM • permalink
- Bingley, Suzanne spells it “Somers”. Didn’t your sister beat anything into you?Posted by Ken Summers on 2006 09 27 at 03:39 PM • permalink
- I’m tired.
Elizabeth
Imperial KeeperPosted by Elizabeth Imperial Keeper on 2006 09 27 at 03:48 PM • permalink
- #12 My favourite slogan is Eat Vegetarians!
I do not know AndyCanuck or anyone’s uncle in Vancouver.
I drink beer and speak with a funny accent, especially after said beer.
Posted by Wimpy Canadian on 2006 09 27 at 04:05 PM • permalink
- I absolutely do not miss polishing boots…Posted by Major John on 2006 09 27 at 04:08 PM • permalink
- By the time I was thirteen, my family had moved that many times so each childhood milestone is associated with a place. I learned to ride a two-wheel bike (fabulous ride—featured a Donald Duck head—his eyes were headlights) in St. Clair Shores, MI. I learned to ice skate on Belle Isle in Detroit. My first beau was a Cincinnati boy, but I got my first kiss in Framingham, NY. In Chicago I learned about poverty, in Kendlewood, MI, about the force and power of nature and in Crown Point, IN, about death. I learned the game of baseball and built my first snowman in Stamford, CT. I had my one and only nightmare ever in Grosse Pointe, MI (took place in the alley behind our house). Some of my favorite times were spent living in hotels as we often did directly after re-locating (in Chicago my front yard was Lincoln Park Zoo and in Detroit my favorite activity was crashing wedding receptions and scarfing at the buffet table). I think this nomadic existence and all it engendered did more to shape my life than almost anything.Posted by Kyda Sylvester on 2006 09 27 at 04:08 PM • permalink
- Something about me….. Ahhh…. I hate Gough Whitlam and his bloke of a wife. Death to all Whitlams.Posted by Phatso Phil on 2006 09 27 at 05:08 PM • permalink
- my wife is crazy but I love her anyway.Posted by daddy dave on 2006 09 27 at 05:10 PM • permalink
- Bingley, Suzanne spells it “Somers”. Didn’t your sister beat anything into you?
I figured schmaybe she changed the spelling to obscure the trail.
But I sniffed her out!
Posted by Mr. Bingley on 2006 09 27 at 05:11 PM • permalink
- In my lifetime, I have been on the giving side and the receiving side once each of the “put your arm around / feel up the arse of the wrong person” embarrassing moment, caused by not looking sideways to check who is there.Posted by neoZionoid on 2006 09 27 at 05:24 PM • permalink
- My hair turned white when I was in my mid-30s, but I still have all of it. I’ve been married to Sonetka’s Mom for 28 years; and take from me, her chocolate-filled croissants are outstanding.Posted by Urbs in Horto on 2006 09 27 at 05:32 PM • permalink
- I have a diary that covers my exploits as a young Aussie woman in England. It is a diary that will form the basis of a novel I will write. But it’s best that it isn’t written until I’m a grandma. Hmmmmmm
Cleaning up my daughter’s room a couple of months ago, I found my diary. She hasn’t raised it, so I won’t. But, damn, there goes my perfect mother image.
No matter, now I can say, and she’ll know why, I know why that is a stupid and wrong thing to do – I did it! I won’t admit to her how much fun I had doing it though.
- Tell us something about you.
Not unless you pay me.
Posted by Stop Continental Drift! on 2006 09 27 at 05:53 PM • permalink
- I will pass on any comments here, since I am really Tim.Posted by Margos Maid on 2006 09 27 at 06:02 PM • permalink
- Once I had a railroad, made it run.
Made it race against time.
Once I had a railroad, now it’s done.
Buddy can you spare a dime?
Posted by Tex Lovera on 2006 09 27 at 06:04 PM • permalink
- When I was in the Navy I was stationed in New London, Connecticut. One night I got stabbed in the neck during a robbery. Missed the big artery by an inch.Posted by David Crawford on 2006 09 27 at 06:08 PM • permalink
- I was blacklisted from every public high school in the Campbell Union High School District (Santa Clara County, CA).
Father Allen DeLong, a professional educator from the Marianist religious order and Principal of Archibishop Mitty High School in Cupertino called my mother out of the blue and said he’d heard of me from the only teacher to ever pass me on results and not attendance (a Latin teacher).
He interviewed me and I became the only Jew in one of the finest Catholic schools in California.
When I had to leave town quick or get my legs broken —just two weeks before graduation—Father DeLong tracked me down and contacted me 5 years later, asking if I still wanted a diploma.
Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 09 27 at 06:25 PM • permalink
- I was born a little baby and grew up to be 6’2”.
I made the first two outs (caught line-drive and stepped on second base) of a triple play in baseball when in the third grade.
First rock concert I attended was to hear Iron Butterfly, who played “Inna Godda Da Vida” in 1969. No drugs were involved on my behalf.
And there are second acts in life, as I have been the best man at my younger brother’s wedding, twice.
But I don’t have a dime.
- I didn’t think I had much to say about myself but Ross at #14 got me thinking, I too was bitten on the ass by a dog when I attended uni at some crappy country university town I’m too embarassed to name.
It was a scroungy mongrel, I walked past it, thinking not much, and it bit me on the backside, so lightly I didn’t quite read it. I turned around like, ‘Dude, did you just bite me?’ An it seemed embarrassed and unable to quite meet my eye. I gave it a long look and walked off, as I ‘retreated’ it regained it’s nerve and started barking wildly at me. A few days later I was surprised to realize it’s owner was a local pseudo-dropout, or feral or something, called ‘Rabbit’ (I never did get the name of his dog), who was lounging in his dope-addled way at a friends share house. I discovered this by finding the animal out the front as I arrived to talk to someone else, about some other ‘dog’. It didn’t seem to recognize me and I didn’t mention it’s past indiscretions. But here’s the weird thing, I later got into a fight with it’s owner too, or nearly did.
I don’t remember what happened since I was drunk and probably trying hard to ignore my enviroment, but my freinds the next day told me Rabbit had wanted to fight me for some drug-bemused reason. He had been pursuaded not to because, as my friends explained to me, his friends had explained to him that ‘I wasn’t hurting anybody’.
Strange. Anyway, I’m glad he decided not to drunkenly attack me that night, I would have beaten what brains he had out on the sidewalk, then murdered his dog too.
- I’d like off this rock.
Anyone wanna lend me 237 billion dollars to build a lunar colony?
Posted by Wind Rider on 2006 09 27 at 07:18 PM • permalink
- Once, by imitating a bird call, I got a flock of barn swallows to attack a blackbird that didn’t want me eating “his” blackberries.Posted by Rob Crawford on 2006 09 27 at 07:19 PM • permalink
- I’m a bloke and I have a twin sister. Dumbest question I have had about that is, “are you identical?”
I was a dairy farmer for twelve years before I went back to school and then entered university. Dumbest comment I have had from another student, “You know your quite intelligent; for a farmer.” He lived but only just.
- I was born with teeth. This upset My mom considerably and she promptly left me with my dad and pissed off to australia with her lover, where her tits soon recovered.
sixty years later i came to Australia to look for her since i had lost my teeth and they were no longer a danger to her.
Unfortunately, before we could finish the unfinished business of breast feeding she passed over.
Australia was the only country that would grant me a psychological disability pension for this, so i stayed on and later made a fortune selling specially adapted falsies for women like my old mum. Even the drinking straws are now biodegradable.
- I have met Tony Curtis, Janet Leigh, George Peppard, Kirk Douglas, Michael Keaton, Jackie Collins, Jamie Leigh-Curtis, Walter Matthau and Berry Gordy founder of Motown.
We had a three day knees up in Hollywood and I was invited and my first class airfare from Australia was even paid for by Tony Curtis. But that’s a long story…..
As Sinatra would say, I did it my way… but I have no regrets.
- I’m a nobody. Just waiting for my 15 mins of fame or 1st prize in lotto.
I might have my chance this Saturday. A movie starring Kate Hudson is about to be shot here in Port Douglas and they are calling for extras. My nose and crooked teeth are identical to Tom Cruise’s and since he’s on the outer with the big studios my chances of being discovered are impoving. The starring role in MI4 would suit me just fine.
- i’ve always hated this here day & age: believe i was born 200 or so years too late. this awareness tended to make me a mite irritable and cranky.
on the other hand, being born so late allowed me to make the acquainance of 4 truly unique wimmen, who combined to more or less save me. so whattaya gonna do.
Posted by jimmy quest on 2006 09 27 at 07:55 PM • permalink
- During my misspent southern youth in the ‘70’s (see: Dazed and Confused, Carolinas version), we would watch Aussie Rules late nights on cable and get hammered while we tried to figure out the rules. We worshipped this hulking brute with the Carleton Blackbirds who had a full beard and shaved head. “Through for six” became our high school slang for “got lucky.” Globalization, gotta love it.
- I am descended from English and Australian pub owners who knew which horses to bet on and blew through several small fortunes. I was baptized in the jungles of Sumatra by missionaries. I once used duct tape to reattach a man’s leg after a chainsaw accident in the north woods. I wanted very much to produce a coffee table book, “The Shitters of Kosovo,” as each was more astonishing than the last, but the photog refused to enter any of them and in fact held it for nine days. I have seen two moose fucking.Posted by crittenden on 2006 09 27 at 07:57 PM • permalink
- #97
Well, okay, I’m not Tim, but I have built a papier mache tribute of him in my basement out of his Bulletin columns and my own bodily fluids.
I also once travelled 87 kph in an 80 zone…
#102 Nice one Davo
Posted by Margos Maid on 2006 09 27 at 08:01 PM • permalink
I have met Tony Curtis, Janet Leigh, George Peppard, Kirk Douglas, Michael Keaton, Jackie Collins, Jamie Leigh-Curtis, Walter Matthau and Berry Gordy founder of Motown.
I ran into Marty Brenneman in a book store.
Posted by Rob Crawford on 2006 09 27 at 08:04 PM • permalink
- I grew up on a sheep station in back country NSW. I did all my schooling by correspondence until grade 6. I was the only kid in my classroom but, hey, I was the smartest kid in my classroom. At nine I was sent to boarding school and found my natural level – dumbest kid in the classroom. Heh, I was so dumb I remember answering a history exam question ‘explain the feudal system’ with a 3 page treatise on how the Hatfields and the McCoys went at it for a decade over a stray pig.
- I’m surprisingly light for my weight and got sent to OCS for organizing a mutiny.Posted by richard mcenroe on 2006 09 27 at 08:05 PM • permalink
- I learned to type on an IBM Selectric in high school in 1980. It was either that or “shop” as a practical elective. Who knew how that little choice would shape the future for me. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m handy and can change my truck’s oil and such, but who saw the computer revolution coming the way it did? Read Buck Pennington’s brief lament about not being able to type (quickly).
- I am the most fortunate man alive. I have been a helicopter pilot, baseball player, school transportation manager, college professor, father of 4, husband, son and brother. I had my grandparents until my 40’s. I still have my parents. I’ve been married for 30 years to a remarkable woman. I live in one of the best, freest countries in the world. My secret wish is to go to a party with all Tim’s commenters (yeah, even old Nigel) and put a face and a name with a poster.Posted by Vanguard of the Commentariat on 2006 09 27 at 08:16 PM • permalink
- My shrink is determining whether I am a compulsive or pathological liarPosted by Corrugated Irony on 2006 09 27 at 08:27 PM • permalink
- While taking the on-road section of my drivers license test, at about 60kph, one of the wheels fell off the car.Posted by HisHineness on 2006 09 27 at 08:29 PM • permalink
- I once saw Gorgeous George walking through King’s Cross. Prince Philip spoke to my brother because he was wearing his Boy Scout uniform. I saw the Dead Kennedys perform at the Temple Beautiful in San Francisco several times, and once levitated to avoid stepping on a banded krait.Posted by crittenden on 2006 09 27 at 08:29 PM • permalink
- I can perform “voluntary nystagmus”, the result of a concrete floor hitting my head when a small child. There seems to be very little demand for this ability.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/NystagmusPosted by Harry Bergeron on 2006 09 27 at 08:34 PM • permalink
- Normally, I’m about twelve feet from nose to tail, but when Dinsdale is very depressed, I can be anything up to eight hundred yards long. When I’m about, Dinsdale will go very quiet and his nose’ll swell up and his teeth start moving about. Then he can become very violent and claim he’d laid Stanley Baldwin.Posted by Spiny Norman on 2006 09 27 at 08:40 PM • permalink
- I was once so hungry, i ate my own earwax.
I used to think I was a reincarnation of Alexander the Great, until I found out he was a fruit.
I used to ponder quantum physics and the mysteries of the universe (what if our universe is actually just a nuclear particle in some other gigantic universe? What if we all have microuniverses in every atom of our being*, and vice versa adinfinitum?) Now I’d just like to drink beer and win lotto, and maybe once finish Mister Wisdom’s Whopper.
*Bummer if you lived in the hydatid-infested dogshit universe; sounds like an apt place for theocrats of any kind.
I invented a system for detecting landmines and other unexploded ordnance.
I believe that’s called “refugees…”
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2006 09 27 at 08:51 PM • permalink
- I lost my virginity to a girl that gave me oral herpes, gonhorrhea and crabs.
I heard later she’d “joined the other team”.
Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 09 27 at 09:00 PM • permalink
- Please don’t throw stuff at me
It could be wise to learn this phrase in French.
Posted by Margos Maid on 2006 09 27 at 09:02 PM • permalink
- “…a girl who…”, pimf.
See? 40 years on and it still affects me
Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 09 27 at 09:03 PM • permalink
- #131 (don’t throw things, just trying to help)
“S’il vous plaît font pas projeter truc à moi”
Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 09 27 at 09:06 PM • permalink
- I won an Academic Scholarship to a Uniting Church School that was awarded to the highest ranked son of a member of the Uniting Church. My family had changed to the Anglican Church after I enrolled but before the scholarship was awarded and must have ‘forgot’ to tell the school. I have never asked my parents about why they did that.
- I have a deep and abiding hatred of Alan Colmes that manifests itself in long, incomprehensible strings of expletives couched in languages I don’t even recall studying.Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 09 27 at 09:18 PM • permalink
- I once owned an album for the Bay City Rollers but never Led Zeppellin. I think the Beatles was the greatest rock group ever and Jimmi Hendrix is overrated. I’ve shaken hands with John Glenn, Hubert Humphrey, and one of the hostages of the Iranian Embassy takeover. The Music Man is my favorite movie. I have a fairly high IQ, hold two college degrees, and I can’t make heads or tails out of Mentalfloss’s postings. Or 1.618’s for that matter.Posted by wronwright on 2006 09 27 at 09:21 PM • permalink
- #137 You’ve cut me to the quick, wronwright, to the very quick. I may never post again (at least not under this nom-d’clavier à ordinateur)Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 09 27 at 09:28 PM • permalink
- I played a minor part in the Adelaide COCK campaign in the late 60’s. That’s Covert Operation Campanologist Knockdown. We boarded next door to St Peter’s Anglican cathedral and we didn’t mind the noise on Sunday but why did they have to practice early Saturday morning when we all had hangovers? Keys were “obtained”, and on Friday night a human chain of bucket carriers was formed all the way up the ladder to the belfry. The largest bells are stored upright and hold a considerable amount of water. At first pull Saturday morning the cassocked campanologists were deluged from above and squirted off the dais.
Profiling was undertaken and the usual student suspects were paraded and questioned by a very pissed-off Bishop of Adelaide and a bedraggled campanologist leader.
Unfortunately, nobody knew nuffin’.
Posted by Whale Spinor on 2006 09 27 at 09:33 PM • permalink
- I was bitten on the arse and the arm by a great dane. It bloody hurt!
#45 S Ferguson
I love watching this program on ABC here in Australia – Time Team. They dig up people’s gardens all over the UK looking for archaeological relics, etc. It’s fascinating.When I took my driving test I kept grabbing the examiner’s knee instead of the gear stick. I passed first time.
- I love my kids more than my own life.Posted by Apparatchik on 2006 09 27 at 09:39 PM • permalink
- I was the dreadedPhantom Gnome Napper who plagued Rockhampton, Queensland in the mid ‘70s, before such activity became widespread and popular, much like international terrorism.
I had an offsider with an old Dodge ‘ute (neither of us were licensed, as we were 15), and we would prowl the darkened streets looking for victims; when a concrete garden inhabitant was spotted, we’d sneak in and free him from the shackles of domestic agrarian servitude, releasing him at a pleasant spot such as in the municipal fountain or atop Mt Archer, which overlooked the inbred, ugly provincial city below.
Concrete lawn Aboriginals were a particular favourite, as they had not been emancipated or even told of their rights- we would release them from the shackles of white colonial oppression, and drop them off at the OPAL centre where they could be taught in the ways of their people and returned to idyllic Rousseauian noble savagery.
We were front page news in the Rockhampton Morning Bulletin for a few weeks- besides ugly unsolved homicides, speedway and the rodeo, not much happens in Rocky.
- I once resuscitated a man in Reno while a bunch of fellas stood around watching him die.
It’s the AFL & NRL Grand Finals this weekend and in accordance with a little known local by-law I will get drunker than 40 Irishmen on St Pat’s Day.
Posted by Infidel Tiger on 2006 09 27 at 09:52 PM • permalink
- I’m in my thirties and have been an Infantryman for 5 years.
I think people should eat more kangaroos.
I can program seven different types of PLC.
I will inevitably end up as Prime Minister of this country, if I can break enough arms to get there.Posted by Rachel Corrie’s Flatmate on 2006 09 27 at 09:58 PM • permalink
- Where’s paco?Posted by TheRealBigAl on 2006 09 27 at 09:58 PM • permalink
- What the?
Is this burnt out hippie central or what?
Me I’m just a Fremantle supporter biding my time till the great baby-boomer die off kicks in.
Posted by Latte Libertarian on 2006 09 27 at 10:05 PM • permalink
- Every time I visit the lavvie for a number 2, the pan winds up looking like the starting grid at Sandown; perhaps I consume too much curry and alcoholic beverages.
Personally, I think modern “water wise” porcelain bus design ignores the needs of the more ample, spicy food and fizzy beer hoovering gentleman, with an inadequate drop and shallow pool below; whatever happened to a dunny that had a decent sized pond in the bowl?
- I haven’t been able to get Europe’s The Final Countdown out of my head for three weeks now.
You should click here. Really.
Posted by Art Vandelay on 2006 09 27 at 10:16 PM • permalink
- You sure are a nosy guy, asking about me. What, am I hear to amuse you? Dance! little blogger, Dance! (bang, bang)Posted by mencken_cynic on 2006 09 27 at 10:16 PM • permalink
- #32: Gary, I know another bloke who has burned down a swamp.
He bought a used DH Vampire jet fighter and restored it. The first time he started the Vampire, he parked it with its tail over the swamp in the middle of Coolangatta Airport. He had no previous jet experience and used full throttle for the start. The resulting torch of flame set fire to the swamp.
It took every fire appliance in the city to put out the fire.
- My first time through the desert was in a medical company and I was the boss of a treatment team at a Camp outside Nasiriyah for a couple of months. This camp was right beside MSR Tampa (very close to where the Australian forces are stationed now) and most of our patients were transportation types complaining of back pain and there really wasn’t much we could do for it.
So the Physician’s Assistant who was doing most of the treatment decided that he was going to get one of the mangy Iraqi dogs found nearby and beat the crap out of it for a week while shouting “BACK PAIN” the whole time. Then we were going to sit the dog beside the desk where you came in and told whoever was doing triage what was wrong with you. If you came in complaining of back pain and you could get away from the dog you didn’t really need treatment. If not we would treat you for dog bites.
And back pain.
- I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.Posted by russell2pi on 2006 09 27 at 10:45 PM • permalink
- Habib,
I was the dreaded Phantom Gnome Napper who plagued Rockhampton, Queensland in the mid ‘70s, before such activity became widespread and popular, much like international terrorism.
Why am I not the in least bit surprised?
LOL!
Posted by Spiny Norman on 2006 09 27 at 10:49 PM • permalink
- I used to make hydrogen with caustic soda and aluminium foil in a milk bottle, with a balloon over the mouth of it; once filled, I’d tie a kerosene-soaked strink around the end of the balloon, light the end of the string and release the balloon- it’d rise to about 3-500 feet then erupt like a mini-Hindenburg.
We also used to make IEDs from two large bolts, a nut and a box of match-heads; if you could get the “bolt bomb” to land right on one end when you threw it up in the ear on a paved area (usually a public road) it would go off with a sizeable bang, shearing the thread off the top bolt and shooting it into the air, usually landing on the roof of some poor sod’s car. fortunately there weren’t many convertibles around.
During the wet season we used to slide down the gutters on the layer of green algae which gre overnight in the heat and humidity; any loss of balance would normally result in concussion, as you’d land right on your head on the kerb.
Another favourite was to liberate a lawnmower from some old geezer, then weld the engine into the frame of a cut-down bicycle with a direct drive change to the back wheel; known as “go-bikes”, these death-traps could get up to 40mph and out-run the cops by weaving through parkland or unfenced properties.
The full scale concrete Brahman bull that decorated the main road into town used to be so regularly turned into a bullock (or steer) the civic authorities had to erect a six foor mesh fence around it, to prevent further loss of bovine bollocks.
As I said before, not much to do in that neck of the woods.
- I’m trying to live in Delaware, after 28 years in New Jersey.Posted by miriams ideas on 2006 09 27 at 10:52 PM • permalink
biding my time till the great baby-boomer die off kicks in.
you’re a public servant then, I take it. So you’ll be very familiar with burned-out hippies.
Posted by daddy dave on 2006 09 27 at 10:56 PM • permalink
- this thread is awesome.Posted by daddy dave on 2006 09 27 at 10:58 PM • permalink
- After a successful launch of an online media empire I retired to consider life.
I now work as a catwalk model, specialising in swimsuit, lingerie and novelty fashion wear.
I have a bit of a softspot for Tim and hope he could develop a hardspot for me. Timmy baby if you’re ever in need of some adult lovin’ from a real woman, sing out!
<insert naughty cats purr here>Posted by Margo Kingston on 2006 09 27 at 11:01 PM • permalink
- Habib,
As I said before, not much to do in that neck of the woods.
I guess not. The worst prank I can recall being involved in was kidnapping the inflatable Noid from in front of the local Domino’s Pizza. We sent them a ransom note and a Polaroid photo of a pistol pointed at its head, but the local gendarmerie didn’t see the humor…
Posted by Spiny Norman on 2006 09 27 at 11:03 PM • permalink
- #140 Please continue MF – I rate your contribution highly and don’t understand those who do not understand.Posted by Margos Maid on 2006 09 27 at 11:04 PM • permalink
- I believe the 12th Imam is wronwright’s pool boy.Posted by Infidel Tiger on 2006 09 27 at 11:14 PM • permalink
- The Blogstrops are a hardy Scandinavian line of rubber boot makers and ferret breeders from along the banks of the Nokia River. Resisting modernisation, they fell out with the relatives who went into the new-fangled phone business, and persisted with earthier matters, such as garden supplies. But the market in bio-degradable garden Trolls has not yet made them rich.
I hear it’s like riding a bicycle.
Not unless you usually require a helmet, trainer wheels and end up with scabby knees after sex.
Posted by Infidel Tiger on 2006 09 27 at 11:32 PM • permalink
- Or were you referring to Renae, the village bike?Posted by Infidel Tiger on 2006 09 27 at 11:33 PM • permalink
- Until this post here, I was ashamed of my infatuation with Nikki Osborne.Posted by Art Vandelay on 2006 09 27 at 11:36 PM • permalink
- I am big like can of Pepsi.Posted by Captain Wacky on 2006 09 27 at 11:44 PM • permalink
- #147 Steaming—how are you with Allen-Bradley’s? How about Bristol Babcock? Kingfisher?
You hip to DNP3 or still doing the MODBUS thing?
Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 09 27 at 11:51 PM • permalink
- The Australian today. Letter from Robin Page, Sandringham.
- #192 kae – The letter underneath from Adriana Maxwell is better!Posted by Infidel Tiger on 2006 09 27 at 11:57 PM • permalink
- I moonlight as CEO of the Upper West Side Locos [tm], the kinder, gentler street gang for ordinary middle-class people. When cruising the ‘hood in our SAABs and Mini Coopers, we play Pucini, Sting, and Harry Partch at 260 decibels.
We practice aromatherapy and crystal meditation, and share investment advice instead of needles. Our gang colors change with the seasons, according to our individual complexions….
In case of disagreement with another gang, we eschew violent gunplay in favor of mediation and arbitration. If that fails, we conduct our drive-bys with strict attention to the principles of feng shui. We always pick up our shell casings for recycling.
Posted by Harry Bergeron on 2006 09 28 at 12:00 AM • permalink
- Ah, the memories. I got stabbed in a fight when I was ten years old. The other guy was 12, but I was a lot bigger. I didn’t know how to fight so I just kept throwing him to the ground. He hit a vein in my arm, and when I took my jacket off the blood spurted about ten feet. Don’t remember much after that.
I come from the same hometown as Liberace.
I had an uncle who was an actor. He introduced me to the guys who played Beaver and Wally Cleaver.Posted by Uncle Lefty on 2006 09 28 at 12:06 AM • permalink
- #193
There are some good smackdowns there today.I wish someone would smackdown Jenny Moxham, who says:
- One hot summer’s day in 1962, me and the kid from down the road couldn’t get a firecracker to light. We took it to the orchard next to my house, which happened to be the property of the Archdiocese of San Jose, St. Frances Cabrini Parish.
Never did get it to explode, but we did initiate a Five-Alarm callout, and the “Red Barn” Chapel near Camden Avenue was barely saved from certain destruction.
That very year, construction funds were approved for this Cathedral.
I spent a harrowing half an hour in the Fire Chief’s car, and couldn’t sit down for a month afterward. The other kid took off before the SJFD got there, yelling “Don’t tell ‘em I did it!” (I didn’t).
He later shot himself in a Russian Roulette game. His older brother once saved me from a serious ass-whipping by some Angels at a Doobie Bro’s concert in the Santa Cruz Mountains ‘cuz I’d kept my mouth shut that day.
Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 09 28 at 12:19 AM • permalink
- I would doubt Tim knew what he was doing when he started this.
Most of Tim’s bloggers are an interesting lot. Throw the same question to a bunch of leftys at a lefty blog and the result would be a bunch of cloned and highly predictable responses (eg, I marched in the anti Vietnam rallies because I admire Jane Fonda so much) etc etc.
- When I was a kid (way too long ago), fireworks of all sorts were easily purchased. Although the infamous M80 fire cracker had just been banned in Washington, we could still get salutes and red-white-and-blues. If you could do do the fuzing right, 6 or so salutes approximated an M80. More or less.
One of our neighbors used to haunt ship salvage yards; his tennis court had two engine air intakes for what looked liked a battleship, and they were AWESOME amplifiers, although they were there as playhouses. Popping off a firecracker inside could be heard around the neighborhood. Once he had a party there, and turned them into huge amplifiers by laying them on their side. I think the music was heard several miles off shore.
He also had a small line gun, with a bore exactly the diameter of a tennis ball. Using two salutes, we could shoot a ball several hundred feet. Unforunately, the gun was too heavy for us to shift around, so we shot at the house of an old lady. Carefully, and when no one was home.
And there was the apple tree. Come July 4th, we made “hand grenades” by coring the apples, and stuffing a firecracker in. If you liked someone, you threw a ripe apple, or even a rotten one. It splattered more.
If you were looking for revenge, you threw a green apple. Man, that hurt!
And then were the bottle rockets…..we used to have bottle rocket wars on the beach. We shot them at cars, too. The faster the car moved, the more challenging the target.
Puget Sound is always cold, but wading in July and August was fun. We’d collect jelly fish (harmless blobs of protoplasm about the size of a cookie) on a board/inner tube for use as impromptu hand grenades. Those were certain to get people upset, which made ‘em more fun. Or we’d fish, usually catching dog fish, who would eat anything, including each other.
Another time, we took a model of an oil supertanker, filled it with gasoline, put in the water, and lit it. Pretty cool! Almost as good as the time I blew up the model of a B17 that I had spent hours putting together.
Our family had a dog named “Bimbo” (really!), a lovely german shepard-collie mix. Problem was, he loved to swim in a near by cess pool, requiring emergency decontamination. If the cess pool was dried up, any old garbage can would do.
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 09 28 at 12:31 AM • permalink
- #202 That’s because #147 Steaming Plateful really can program a PLC. Believe me, getting ladder logic to populate the correct sequence-based-event registers ain’t easy.Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 09 28 at 12:32 AM • permalink
- I’m too stingy to pay for a silent phone line, so it’s in my garden gnome’s name. Has been for years and years, and he gets offers from Spanish lotteries for lots of money, and AMEX gold cards.
He also gets more calls from telemarketers than I do.
Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2006 09 28 at 12:39 AM • permalink
- I would thank you, Margo’s Maid, but I am convinced, after reading the newest thread (above) on the dreams and fantasies of conservative vs. liberal thinkers, that you are a figment of my imagination.Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 09 28 at 12:47 AM • permalink
- I have a problem with this whole burning down a swamp. Burning a swamp, sure, it’s unusual, but I can handle that. But burning down? What does it burn down into? The.. um… swamp?Posted by daddy dave on 2006 09 28 at 12:48 AM • permalink
- #203 TR JeffS, when I was a kid we had a black labrador called Sambo.
You won’t get away with that anymore.
Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2006 09 28 at 12:50 AM • permalink
- I’ve had half a dozen marriage proposals. 2 very serious, two half serious, and 2 for shits and giggles.
I believe I’ve had some very lucky escapes.
Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2006 09 28 at 12:53 AM • permalink
- #205 Mental Floss. Thanks for straightening it out. I hate to have to lay a ‘dude’ on anyone.Posted by Uncle Lefty on 2006 09 28 at 12:53 AM • permalink
- One time me and my buddy filled the windshield-washer fluid reservoir in his Gremlin with oil, then re-routed the hose to the carburetor intake. We drove around the block six or seven times, jabbing the squirter button and laying down an impenetrable smoke cloud on the neighborhood.
We called ourselves “Willie” and “Pete” after that.
- #212. Kae, my daughter was given a golliwog for her birthday one year, and I named him Michael Jackson because he’s black and has no nose.Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2006 09 28 at 12:58 AM • permalink
- We also found that if you unravelled a string of tom thumb firecrackers, they were exactly .177 calibre, and would thus fit neatly into the barrel of an air rifle; if you lit one quickly, slid it into the barrel, closed and fired, you could shoot one right at some neighbourhood kid on his bicycle, with the thing going off in their hair if you were really accurate.
Good times. I also got the only flogging of my life from my father when I lobbed a penny bunger at a local village idiot called “Hydro” (Could lift anything), causing him to stack his much decorated Malvern Star; odd thing was, Hydro was employed part-time as a blaster at the council quarry- much more dangerous than my harmless prank.
We also used to stash civvie clothes along the course of school cross-country runs, and lag behind the mass of spotty herberts, then dive into the scrub and get changed. We’d then nip off to the Lionleigh Hotel for a few swift ones then rejoin the sweating, puffing stragglers for the last leg. We also used to skive off from sports days to go water-skiing or play golf.
- Sambo……Bimbo…….dog names that will be no more, alas, Nilk.
🙁
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 09 28 at 01:24 AM • permalink
- In 1986, aged 11, I stayed at The Waldorf Astoria at the same time as Ronald Reagan. Even then, I realised I was almost in the presence of greatness.Posted by Infidel Tiger on 2006 09 28 at 01:27 AM • permalink
- i once slept on a sandbar in the Northern Territory, the night before a ghost crab pissed off with my lit cigarette, im glad he didnt take my bottle of rum.
in the morning i found fresh croc tracks in the sand 10 metres away.
i now have no fear of stingrays.i have an anal fissure i call him Bob, he is my closest friend.
- Of course, Nilk, we had another dog, a Yorkshire terrier. In part, anyway—she wandered off the street, we figured abandoned, and Dad adopted her. Not the kids. Dad. Go figure.
Anyway, she was in heat (probably the reason why she was dumped, otherwise a very loving, loyal animal). Another family pet, Mite (short for “Dynamite”), underwent an amazing transformation upon this terrier’s entrance.
Mite was 12-13 years old, scarred from numerous dog fights, and walked with a bent head and very distinct limp from a stroke. He went from ancient geezer to a young pup in about 20 minutes—head straight, eyes bright, and no limp. A few weeks later, we had a box full of little Mites.
In the course of this, the terrier was unnamed. Her most notable physical feature were her very short legs. During her pregnancy, the little black terrier closely resembled a large, furry cockroach.
We had a naming contest for the terrier, the choices of which came down to either “Midget” (guess why), or “Prostitute” (because she had no visible means of support). That last was Dad’s suggestion as well.
Sadly, the unimaginative name of “Midget” was selected. I think that my stepmother had enough of us boys running down the street calling “Bimbo! Where are you? Come here, Bimbo!”
Calling for a Prostitute in the neighborhood? No way, baby!
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 09 28 at 01:35 AM • permalink
- #221 Are you aware of what the locals do to the Blarney Stone at night?Posted by Infidel Tiger on 2006 09 28 at 01:37 AM • permalink
- Habib,
You just have to be of my generation. No doubt you will remember the bodgie guns….bike pump stuffed with a penny bunger and a dib; pull the wick through the hole, light up, close your eyes and hope you still have fingers after.
Remember remember the 5th of November. Guy Fawkes night for some, re-arming for us. Ammunition funded by collections of empty soft drink or milk bottles. Letter box bombing with threepenny bungers taped together with a mosquito coil fuse.
I hereby fess up. It was me who planted the firework device near the door to the gents toilet in the Caloundra cinema circa ‘64 The timing was perfect….20mins into the second feature when there was a dark scary scene….boooom!! (insert diabolical laugh here) I don’t know who shit their pants more; me or the usher who ran at 100mph down the aisle and slipped on the Jaffa booby traps
- #221- I’ve drunkenly performed the same bizarre igneo-fetish act, accompanied by much mirth from the assembled ball-scratching, potato-munching, bar bombing bog trotters.
#226- I can only guess, but for some reason the rock in question had a whiff like a winos trousers. It must be very lonely to be a sober person in Ireland. (Let’s face it, if you sobered up, you’d move. We can thank the vast quantitites of quat available in the Horn of Africa for the fact that every inbound flight isn’t teeming with surly Somalis).
- When my dad was a kid, he and his mates would collect all their money and buy one ticket for the pictures.
The one with the ticket would let all the others in through the fire escape/exit at the bottom of the picture theatre.In the war he nicked a machine gun off a plane at Bankstown Airport and buried it in his back yard.
He was a larrikin.
I miss me dad.
- One more for me: my favorite song is “Quiet Village.” I have about a dozen versions of it on Napster.
And, I read cookbooks to relax. (I know, Whoopee! But it works for me.)
- #227 spag-oz
hydrogen balloons, bolt bombs , cracker bombs, shitcan tilting and dunny bombing.ahh ..brings tears to my eyes.
never went to the caloundra movies but if u ever went to the old moolooaba fleahouse and saw blue and orange flames ring from the front rows, along with hysterical laughter…..well ill take any applause , even if its 40 years late.
cowabunga!
- JeffS, naming pets is almost as difficult as naming offspring. We went through a stage of calling our animals Fred.
Fred the mini-dachshund got under the gate then under a truck.
Fred the kitten got out of the house and under a car.
Fred the tortoise drowned.
Go figure.
We did have a couple of budgies last summer named Karl and Rove, but I found the cage outthe back open and the birds gone. I suspect one of the neighbourhood ferals decided to liberate them or else the rugrat opened the door.
Either way, it is a mystery that will remain forever unsolved.
We also had a scruffy terrier called Rags, which is another name that has fallen into popular disuse.
Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2006 09 28 at 01:49 AM • permalink
- #47 – Actually ate some cat early hours of this morning. It was in a dish with dou fu and spinach and I wasn’t informed until after the meal. It was tender and tasty!
Apparently my local chinese friends like to have it twice year here in Guangzhou and the cats that supply their delicacy are described as being huge [big as a small tiger]. They have made sure that I get my bi-annual dose over the past few years but this was the first time I was told what I had eaten.
- We used to make an effective anti-dunny IED from an old can, stuffed with thippeny bungers and gravel, their wicks entwined then the top sealed with the lid sandwiched between two layers of candle wax- would absolutely shatter a toilet bowl in a public convenience. I reckon we could teach those amateurs from the Iraq insurgency a thing or two.
We also had a handly reference manual titled “Mines and Booby Traps in Use in Vietnam” which my old man brought home; it inspired a whole new generation of firework-powered devices, including a small bore mortar which would launch a beercan full of sand. The particularly silly double bunger was wonderful for 1” waterpipe muskets, which would also use a penny bunger load to fire marbles. We also made our own crossbows, and had a brief fling with shurikens (inspired by the ninjas in Shintaro) fabricated from tin lids with a pair of metal cutters, fortunately highly inaccurate; we also used to dong each other with bamboo samurai swords. Thierry le Fronde also caused a brief flirtation with gings, but these were soon abandoned when we realised that a Frenchman in pantyhose was a bit gay.
It’s amazing men live past twenty
No doubt Dave S. The lower life expectancy for men is because of risky male behaviour between the ages of 14-24. Stats show that if a bloke lives to the age of 25 he will likely live a long life.
My mates and I did some shit which should have got us killed or at least severely injured. Just lucky I guess.
- BTW- the river we used to waterski on, and the lagoons adjoining the golf course were infested with saltwater crocodiles. Provided ample incentive to remain upright on a ski. A loopy friend of mine used to snorkel in the lagoons to collect golfballs. He survived that, but was cleaned up on a level crossing by a coal train after graduating as a teacher. (He also used to munch on raw onion sandwiches).
- The things and the damage you can do with chlorine, brake fluid and a bottle are amazing. How I have all my digits let alone my eyesight just may be proof of God.
There are few funnier experiences in life than surreptiously placing an unopened canned good onto an open fire and waiting for the explosion. The ensuing delight was quickly crushed by the cold hand of adult authority.
Posted by Infidel Tiger on 2006 09 28 at 02:08 AM • permalink
- #238- whilst in the school cadets, we found that the Kraft cheese cans provided in ration packs were highly useful for nocturnal commando raids on the tent lines occupied by the Micks from St Brendans- one quietly pitched into their campfire would go off like a mortar round after five or ten minutes, showering the camp with burning embers and shapnel consisting of molten cheese (sort of an organic napalm).
The force was such that the normally concave base of the can would be turned convex.
Allowing 14 year olds onto a rifle range with brens or M60s also had some amusing results.
- We were visiting relatives down in Oregon, and spent a few days with an uncle. Uncle Jim lived on a plot of land of maybe 5 acres, kept a few horses, and let the rest of the place go natural. But there was this cool pond at the far end.
My brother, my cousin, and I spent the night there once. Had a campfire, cooked bad food, told dirty jokes—yadda yadda yadda.
The next morning, we woke up, and started to break camp, but decided to lark around a bit. We had a BB gun with us, and my cousin and I tramped around the pond, shooting dragonflies.
My brother stayed at the camp fire, puttering around. When I was on the far side of the pond from the fire (maybe 75 feet), I noticed the bro facing away from me, bent over at the waist, and busy with some task.
His buttocks presented an irresistable target. I smiled at my cousin, cocked the BB gun, aimed carefully, and shot my sibling square in the ass. We heard the WHACK!!!! clear across the pond, followed by some sincere and quite original profanity. He was saved from skin penetration by the range and the jeans he wore.
I admit that hitting my brother at that range with a BB gun involved not a little divine intervention. But I’m still proud of that shot.
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 09 28 at 02:29 AM • permalink
- #239 Habib
geeze, u mustve went to the same Oliver Twist school of vandalism and life threateningly stupid activities for young men.
we used to drop in tins of asparagus in the fire, but the most prized was Vegemite, it would leave the kids from the other school looking like the black and white minstrels.
Remember all the cadets would have to parade in the open wearing nothing but an army greatcoat and unlaced boots for a medical.
at 15 , the thought of dropping your greatcoat in front of ya mates while the Medical Officer check out your agates , then bend you over while he parted your arse cheeks and had a good look was terrifying .
but what really freaked us out was every now and then, he would stop the queue whilst he took another bite out of the sandwiches he had stashed in a bag beside him !!
GAG—-SPEW—CHUCK… VOMIT…OH THE HUMANITY!!
Greenbank Army Base by any chance?
- Im a boring person who has been around some interesting times.
Was 2 doors down from a murder with a freshly fired rifle in my ute and blood under my fingernails one night. Coppers come rushing up the street and cordoned off the area and began searching all the cars going around nearby. I walked over full of piss and asked the cop if I could go home and he let me.
Been set on fire by my dad. ( he swore it was an accident)
Knocked out my mums front teeth when i was a year old.
Been bitten by a sheep.
Been bitten by a dog
Been bitten by a mad Arab
Been kicked in the nuts by an emu
Been kicked by a horse
Been shot by my best mate in the head (Thanks dad for only letting us use the air gun and not the .22 that day)
Been in at least 40 riots on the recieving end.
Stabilised a mans broken neck in the middle of one riot.
Attended 2 hangings in a week, radio failed both times.
Watched the head of the human rights and equal opportunities commision demand a female be searched in front of a room full of men.
Had a passport with only 1/2 of the entry/ exit stamps youd normaly have. Customs allways pulled me up till I explained why.Doesnt matter where I go trouble tends to find me.
Posted by thefrollickingmole on 2006 09 28 at 02:39 AM • permalink
- #242- Shoalwater Bay, old chum-much like Greenbank, but with taipans, scorpions, unmarked patches of foul ground and crazy Vietnam vet regs on site, performing drunken nocturnal raids on your bivouac.
My eldest brother went to Greenbank, and one of his mate who was the quartermaster had a box of .303 ball in the train with him, and spent the trip down taking potshots out the window at cows, wildlife, advertising hordings and any other target that presented itself.
Re the MO, my mum used to enjoy regaling us with a tale about the dunnyman who serviced her street when younger, and his run past her place used to coincide with lunch-time; he’d often drag the full tin out of the thunderbox, then plonk it down in their front yard and drag out a pack of bedraggled sangers from his filthy pocket, perch on the malodorous stool and munch his lunch.
- I know of guy who has had an interesting time. He has visited every single country in the world. 194 of them.
I was a snorkelling virgin (or is that a virgin snorkeller?) until the week after – and nor far from where – Steve Irwin died.
Posted by manbag’s bagman on 2006 09 28 at 03:02 AM • permalink
- I was bitten on the arm by a monkey when I was 10 years old, I still have the scar, and I have fired two M-60 machine guns at the same time, one under each arm. Good times.
Otherwise I am dull colourless and boring.Posted by Pedro the Ignorant on 2006 09 28 at 03:13 AM • permalink
- As a child I had a phobia about bones and skeletons. I tried to cure this by hiding in the museum at closing time, planning to spend the night there – kill or cure – but they found me and threw me out. I am a trade union lawyer. I have written some stuff under another name.Posted by Susan Norton on 2006 09 28 at 03:28 AM • permalink
- Habib from your cadet days you will remember the Aldershot grenades used for practice. Best described as a pissy little fire cracker. Enter the thunderflash; no fizzy wick there, just a dull glow to let you know where the instructors had tossed one in the dark. The bang & the flash were terrific, the latter would blind you for quite a while. So the cheeky bastards would toss 2 into camp. You would see the first one coming, duck your head & count off the seconds…..boom….look up and the second one would catch you out. Blind as a bat & falling over everything.
But hell for a 16 year old it was such fun.
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