It's now the day after Valentine's day. How did it go for you? Were you lifted ever higher on the wings of love, blinded by the beauty of your sweetheart, oozing with good-hearted good-heartedness at every little good-hearted thing that good-hearted on this happiest of days? Or did your day go something like mine? Lesse... My alarm goes off at 5:30am. Huhn? Wha-? Oh yeah, I have to wake up extremely early today because I have a pre-employment test to take. No problem. My deep cover sources within the company (read: my Dad) tell me the test is easy. It's there to screen out the retarded. No offense, retard. As an added bonus, I'm going to spend part of the day meeting my (hopefully) future co-workers. Y'know, getting to know them and familiarizing myself with the job. This includes meeting my possible boss and the guy who'll ultimately interview me, should I pass the pre-employment test. So, everything's cool. I arrive in the city early, grab a bite to eat, and make my way over to the office where the testing is held. Along the way, I'm assaulted with flower stands and cute couples holding hands. Smiling that knowing smile at each other. I made a mental note to stop by the store and pick up a vinyl repair kit, and smiled that knowing smile at my hand. Happy Valentine's day, Me! I got you a bottle of lotion from Walgreens! These are things that I was thinking of as I made my way over to the office, when all of a sudden - Whoa! Watch out there, buddy! A staggering bum almost spilled his orange juice all over me! Like a ninja bullfighter, I sidestepped him. "Ole!" I felt like shouting, feeling especially proud of my display of dexterity. Little did I know that I had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire, in this, my little encounter with the homeless. It happened almost in slow motion. A homeless person, slightly bent forward was walking towards me holding a plastic cup of orange juice in one hand, and clutching his stomach with the other. Then, like some cheze filled '70s action sequence, he stumbled sending a slowmo arc of orange juice towards me. With a sound like the 6-million dollar man, I flung my right arm up and twisted my torso and pelvis, narrowly avoiding the catastrophe. To get an idea of what I looked like, think John Travolta on the Saturday Night Fever movie poster. That's when I realized that the reason he was bent over and clutching his stomach is because he was just about to vomit. On the inside of my left pant leg. "Damn, I'm good!" I was thinking as I heard it. "Urgh... Hunnnnh... blalalrlrlrlaralrghl". Splash. Then it was over. Pushing me out of the way, he staggered on down the street, presumably to spead his Valentine puke to the rest of the professional working class. Ok, that's great. Bracing myself, I looked down at my leg. It wasn't too bad. It wasn't chunky. It kinda looked like anti-freeze. I guess that's what a diet of alcohol and orange juice will do to you. But, you know my motto: When life hands you lemons, make lemonade which bums can use to distract people in order to vomit on their legs. Thankfully, I had some napkins and a plastic bag left over from my breakfast. I used these to clean off as best as I could. Which is to say, not well at all. "This isn't turning out as well as I'd hoped..." I thought as I walked into the office, smelling of alcohol and vomit with a suspicious wet trail leading down my left leg. Trying to be as inconspicuous and non-vomit smelling as possible, I greeted my (hopefully) future boss. "I'm already for the test, sir!" I said cheerfully, mentally preparing an excuse should he bring up my pants. "Test? You're not scheduled for a test today... Lemme check the books..." he said reaching around the secrataries desk for the list of appointments. "Hmmm... nope. Are you sure that's today?" he asked, glancing down at my leg as he crinkled his nose. "Yeah, I'm sure," I replied removing from my pocket the notes I had scribbled down earlier when I first set-up the testing. "It says right here, 'Test, conference room A, Thursday February... the... 21st... shit." "Ha... Hahaha. Don't you know day it is? It's the 14th! You know, Valentine's Day? You're a week early! Hahahha. How could you miss Valentine's Day?" The rest of the conversation was a humiliating blur. It lasted, oh... a couple more minutes. I hastily beat an exit, the boss's derisive laughter echoing in my ears, the strange looks and "what's that smell?" comments hounding me, following me wherever I went. But, astonishingly enough, the day wasn't a complete loss. True, I got puked on. True, I have a strange rash on my leg now. True, the guy who holds my future in his hands now thinks I'm a guy who got so drunk that he showed up to his employment test a week early with vomit on his shoes and piss running down his leg. But... BUT! I had one surprise waiting for me. Disgusted with myself, I drove down to my parent's place so I could do my laundry. I took my pants off and tossed them into the washing machine and scrubbed my leg with some disinfectant. Now, clad in my boxer shorts and a t-shirt, I made my way to the kitchen to grab some free food. That's when I noticed it... there on the kitchen table, a note from my Mom alongside it. "Hope your test went well. Knew you'd come here afterwards to steal our food. Anyway, I grabbed this old keyboard from work. They were about to throw it out, and I remembered you saying how you liked 'em, so I took it home for you. -Happy Valentine's, Mom" HALLELUJAH! There before me was an old IBM type-M "clicky" keyboard. I love these. In fact, that's why I typed out this whole long post. To hear the satisfying click of each keystroke. Feel that satisfying springiness... Oooooooh yeah..... So, all-in-all, I figure I came out on top. Now. Post up your Valentine's experiences. The more loserly and humiliating the better.
That is not the correct answer. Besides, who gives a fuck? It couldn't be more embarassing than mine. Share, share.
It was way too embarassing. End of me posting on this post. I will still read it though.(Some funny stuff might get posted) <font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: gamenut on 2002-02-16 08:30 ]</font>
Sorry, Milho, mine was great. Maybe I can make you vomit on your own leg by feeding you saccherin ... (actually it's not all that bad) Lysa and I have money troubles, so when we talked about Valentines, we decided not to get each other gifts, despite the fact I really wanted to get her a new joystick (yes, yes, go ahead and snicker, but you KNOW I mean game controller). Then, on Tuesday 12th, a package arrived at our offices for Lysa. I naturally cottoned on that it was a V-Day gift for me, so a railed at her a bit for "stabbing me in the back." Romantic, huh? So, I was left thinking "dammit, now I'm just gonna feel like a heel when she hands me this gift on Thursday." Since we spend almost all day everyday together and don't live near a high street or mall, I couldn't see how I'd be able to get her a gift. Then, Tuesday night, Lysa went to the gym, giving me a tiny little window of opportunity to find somewhere to buy a gift. Somehow, I did a trip to our nearest high street stores in record time. I got the tube there, bought the gift and got back, all in under 40 minutes. She never suspected a thing. Then all I had to do was keep the secret. I'm shit at this and nearly blurted out about 20 times the fact that I had the last two Sims expansions hidden under our bed. I held it in though, and it was worth it to be able to surprise her with a gift I knew she wanted when she didn't think she was getting anything. It cost me 40 quid I don't have, but she's been sitting next to me playing it ever since, which is worth a hell of a lot.
That's not nearly saccharine enough to make me puke. It was cutesy enough to make my stomach hurt, though. It had a couple "Awwww, that's so sweeeet!!!!1 moments. Next time, throw in a few more "I wubby wuv my lil snookums!" to achieve the desired effect. :wink: So you got Lysa a couple games and a *cough* joystick (the kind with bells on? hur hur hur. Did it have a knob on the end? hur hur hur). You left out what she got you, though. You just mentioned that it was "a package". PS - I'm going to be pissed if I'm the only one on these whole boards that posts a "I had a shitty Valentine's Day" story in this thread...
She got me a clock made like a weeble. It wobbles, but it doesn't fall down. It's cool, and it's sitting right here in front of me. I dunno about other people with shitty V-Days. When I was still single, I mainly considered them shitty if I didn't get propositioned by a decent looking girl. Needless to say, I pretty much considered them all shitty. You story made me chuckle and point, btw. I couldn't stop laughing long enough to finish the encounter with the homeless. It was so good, that it (and a few other things) are making me wonder whether you're a security-chef as you claimed to be aranoid: <font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sheriff Fatman on 2002-02-16 11:17 ]</font>
My Valentine's Day was like every other Valentine's Day that I've been through. Absolutely jack shit all happened :smile:. I returned books to the public library, returned videos to the video store, I saw the movie "From Hell", and that was about it.
Ballantine's Day Sorry, Milo, but my VD wasn't very eventful. No puke, no derision by my future employers...nothin'. But to make you feel better, please accept another installment of... *INSIDE MILO'S HEAD* (You did memorize the last two, right?) Man (in a very proper British accent): Oh, hello. Excuse me, but have you seen a young lady, about this tall, black hair, black dress, around here? Milo (hesitantly): No, sir. The girl in Milo's car pokes her head up for a second. The man spies her. Man: Ah, Phoebe! There you are. Woman: Phoebe, come and eat your liver. Phoebe: No, no, no, no, no! Woman: Phoebe, you need your vitamin A! Man (to Milo): Is that your car? Milo: Yes, sir. Man: Yes. Well, would you mind unlocking the door? Milo (just realizing): My keys are inside it. Woman: Oh, cricket! Darling, she'll come back sooner or later. My liver is getting cold. Man: Quite right, darling. The man and woman go back into Morrison's Cafeteria. As Milo begins walking to his car, a handsome young man in a tuxedo comes out of the service door. He pushes past Milo and raps on the car window. Phoebe pokes her head up. Young Man: Father says if you don't come in right now you can't have any Jell-O. He returns to the restaurant. Phoebe quietly unlocks the door and slips from the car, her face downcast. Suddenly she throws her arms around Milo's neck and kisses him passionately. Phoebe: Want some Jell-O? *MILO WAKES UP IN A PADDED ROOM* Next Episode: Inside Morrison's Cafeteria Feel better? Congrats on the "clicky"!
That is one fucked up series of events Feldon :smile:. I can't even understand it. VD doesn't mean much over here (not Venereal Disease you sick bastards! :smile - everyone is either working or at school.
well my val-day started off great as i finally got to nail a girl i've been after for a few weeks now when i recieved a phone call from my hotel manager telling me that i had to work as the F & B manager was taking the night off to "spend time with the family" when i know for a fact that mother fucker is single. which meant that i had to come into work and open and close the restaraunt that night. okay fine i can deal with this, not a prob...... right.... wrong. the fucking stupid breakfast staff neglected to reset the restaraunt so that when i walked in and saw the buffet tables still runing right up the middle of room i had to spend the next 45 mins moving them before i could open the bar doors so that we could have guests in there with out watching me move tables and chairs while their waiting for their beers. okay, done... finished.... wrong. it was at this point i noticed while doing table allocations that one of the reception bitches had taken more bookings for v-day dinner, which had been capped at 25 couples but was now 28. so after more table moving and a 5 minute conversation with the fore- mentioned receptionist which involved a lot of swearing and yelling on my part and crying her's. now this covers about the first hour and a half of what turned into a 12.5 hr shift which did not get any better then this. may i just sum up by saying..... PEOPLE ARE FUCKING IDIOTS!!!!!!!
That's hilarious Milo. I'd say you're the greatest but your mother beat you to this title with her So you're the greatest Milo's mom :grin:
Ok, I know this is late, but I'm gonna post it anyway. My valentines day went great, got my wife a dozen carnations, took them to the bank where she works IN PERSON, so all was well and good, UNTIL......... The wife wanted grilled pork chops for supper. I then headed outside to the BEAST. (That's my grill's name. It has it in for me, one day, I will lose my life to that grill.) Gas grill, 2-burner, one rack, and shit-full of hate.... I turn on the gas, turn on the first burner, leave the lid open (like you're supposed to do) and promptly start pressing the ignite button. Nothing happens after pressing it for 25-30 times. It was kinda windy, so I figured the wind was blowing the gas away too fast, so I put the lid down, and then turned on the 2nd burner. I let the gas hiss inside the grill, building up, thinking that will solve my problems. Little did I know that hissing was not just the gas in the grill, but the grill's evil spirit laughing, full of hatred for me. I pressed the ignite button one more time..... The grill lid rocketed up, and like a mouth, the grill belched blue fire in a cloud, and then the lid SLAMMED!! back down. I then looked at my arm. You guys know what burnt hair smells like? Well, I don't know if the smell I was smelling was my burnt hair and flesh, or if it was the shit that was now oozing in my underpants. I now have no hair on my left arm, my watch turned a funny tan-brown color, and those boxers...well, I just threw them away. Buy a new pair cheaper than I could clean those off. I immediately ran inside and seeked out my wife for comfort, and after she oohed and aahed at my bald left arm, and patted me on my head and said, "poor baby", she informed me that I still had to cook, and no, the grill doesn't have it in for you, you're just being silly. I can still hear the BEAST's evil hissing late at night, calling my name.........
And that is why I use charcole. But seriously 'tard you got to fight fire with fire. I say take the damn grill out to the woodshed and beat it like a red headed step-child. Belive me ojects do know fear. I once had a 5 1/4" disk with Ultime III on it and my best saved game got erased. So what does what is a wannabe despot to do? In order to forestall any future disk revolutions I burned the disk, hacked it with a knife and nailed it above the computer as an object lesson to the other disks. And you know what it worked.
