We went to the fair last weekend. the boys went on lots of rides, eah costing a bloody fortune, but I'm not going to complain, we had a good time, and that's the main thing. I had a go on the Flipping Frogs onto the lilly pads thing. So did my wife, (She won a soft toy!) and my wife's freind also had a go, but like me, didn't win anything.
Anyway. The two ladies fired off first, and both were pathetic, the frogs barely left the catapult, plopping harmlessly just the other side of the counter - Not going anywhere near the spinny, carousel type device with the spalshing water fountain. I figured, that these catapults therefore needed a bit of a hefty whack with the rubber mallet, because surely the girls wouldn't have started with such a pathetic feeble hit, not BOTH of them!!
I was of course wrong!.......
I lined up, and brought the mallet down with a mighty smack. It is probably at this point I should issue the following warning:
Before bringing the mallet down onto the catapult, ensure that your non-hammer holding hand is not in line with either the trajectory of the mallet, or under the catapult.
I'm surprised that warning sign was not clearly displayed on the stall - Perhaps I ought to sue?
However, apart from hurting my fingers, I did manage to hit the catapult right on the button, with a fair amount of force. Had my suspicion that the catapults were fairly stiff been correct, then I'm sure it would have been a very good shot, landing right in the middle of the lilly pads. that was not to be the case though. the frog sailed through the air, to the far side of the stall, and hit a woman who was just setting up her own frogs.
My remaining shots were better!
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Scary Duck..... You have a LOT to answer to!!!!
Well. Almost half a year has passed, and I have not updated my Blog. I was inspired to do so by reading Scary Duck's account of masturbation to order, and it reminded me of a rather unpleasant story of much muckiness that I feel compelled to share.I did however forget my user name and password since my last visit, and have had a bit of a job tracking it all down again.... But here I am.I guess I had better start at the beginning, always a good place to start, although whether it helps explain the story any I don’t know. I lived in a rented house with some fellow biker mates, conditions were almost bordering on squat, but not quite! Anyway, we had a bit of a dispute with somebody, and were seeking a form of unpleasant revenge. (I won't mention any names!)
Our form of revenge was to fill up a container, as best we could with a very specific male bodily fluid. that, then to be preserved for a period of months and deposited in aforementioned victims drink......
PLEASE NOTE. If you are weak of stomach, you have probably read too far already, and should STOP reading immediatley!
The plan was set in motion, and we took the container to our respective rooms in turn. Said container being a glass from our drinks cabinet. I was third in line, so by the time the glass got back downstairs to me, from my giggling house mates, it had a reasonable content. I took it upstairs, shut myself in my room, and started my important duty. Unfortunately, independent hand control went out of the window at the crucial moment, and the hand that was holding the glass in position had a sudden, unexpected spasm. the result of this spasm, was that the glass became momentarily unsupported. In an upright position, this may not have been so much of a problem.....BUT, at the acute angle I was holding it, combined with my weight on the bed, the glass tipped my way. And instead of me depositing my contents in the glass....Well I don't need to explain that bit.
My sheet and mattress were severely dampened as was my leg and left buttock. NOT Pleasant, especially armed with the knowledge that what I had just spilt on myself was not the product of my own loins!
We decided thereafter that each keeping our own deposits would be preferable, combining them only in the final stages. As it turned out, when the several months was over. The smell of our little collection was so ghastly, that we decided that whatever crime had been committed against us in the first place would never be serious enough to warrant this, so the idea was shelved and our weapon destroyed.
Our form of revenge was to fill up a container, as best we could with a very specific male bodily fluid. that, then to be preserved for a period of months and deposited in aforementioned victims drink......
PLEASE NOTE. If you are weak of stomach, you have probably read too far already, and should STOP reading immediatley!
The plan was set in motion, and we took the container to our respective rooms in turn. Said container being a glass from our drinks cabinet. I was third in line, so by the time the glass got back downstairs to me, from my giggling house mates, it had a reasonable content. I took it upstairs, shut myself in my room, and started my important duty. Unfortunately, independent hand control went out of the window at the crucial moment, and the hand that was holding the glass in position had a sudden, unexpected spasm. the result of this spasm, was that the glass became momentarily unsupported. In an upright position, this may not have been so much of a problem.....BUT, at the acute angle I was holding it, combined with my weight on the bed, the glass tipped my way. And instead of me depositing my contents in the glass....Well I don't need to explain that bit.
My sheet and mattress were severely dampened as was my leg and left buttock. NOT Pleasant, especially armed with the knowledge that what I had just spilt on myself was not the product of my own loins!
We decided thereafter that each keeping our own deposits would be preferable, combining them only in the final stages. As it turned out, when the several months was over. The smell of our little collection was so ghastly, that we decided that whatever crime had been committed against us in the first place would never be serious enough to warrant this, so the idea was shelved and our weapon destroyed.
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