Up Front: Same as it Ever Was
230 Responses
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For my story, above, I blame my flatmate. Otherwise I would have stayed at home reading Dostoevsky and dreaming of Aspergic hero Prince Myshkin.
She was (and still is) very attractive to men. She once rang up to check the train timetable and ended up going on a date with the man who answered the phone.
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[Remainder deleted, Mark. I've had a couple of complaints about this post already, and I tend to agree. It's off-topic and distasteful. RB]
Fair enough Russell, I couldn't agree more.
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once had to return to a boy's flat the next day to ask if I had perhaps left my skirt in his room
heh, I once returned a young librarian's clothes to her place of work the next day after a party (she'd jumped my flatmate, passed out in the hall, naked, we couldn't find her clothes, got her dressed in loaner gear, had someone drive us over to her parents' place & two of us carried her inside).
At the library the next day "Is Not-her-real-name here?" I was told she was sick.
Holding up a supermarket bag full of clothes & underwear... "She left these at my place."
She was a good sport about it all though. A very good sport actually.
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Tch, it's not a competition, Sofie... oh, no, wait, it is. It's just so hard to come up with stories that won't embarrass/annoy other people,
We don't need names or photos, just the goods :)
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Okay. Award Announcement. This was a lot of fun, and I'm very impressed by how many of you managed to pick up the Bonus Geek points.
My final three were Tom, Jack and Giovanni. Making the final pick was tricky. With the assistance of alcohol, however, what put the winner over the line was, " I am very, very sorry about your petunias."
Jack, drop me an email and tell me what you want me to do with your book.
Dishonourable mentions go to Hilary for 'organic garden', and Tracy for being conceived in a brothel. Champion.
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"With the assistance of alcohol": the way I tend to win things.
Sadly, doesn't work with cycling. The great tragedy of my really.
Email (about to be) sent, with bonus added salacious details redacted from the original post in case my kids ever google this.
In the interests of fairness, I should point out that I seriously considered withdrawing from the running in favour of Rodger. The occurrence he described, although less funny, was considerably more awesome. Ah, the memories.
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what put the winner over the line was, " I am very, very sorry about your petunias."
Yes, that really was a corker. There's also something ineffably funny about the word 'petunias'. (It's the Douglas Adams reminder, perhaps.)
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(It's the Douglas Adams reminder, perhaps.)
Oh yes.
I wasn't expecting to be in the running for this. Thankfully I'm due to see Jack in a couple of days so I can go all Tonia Harding on his shins.
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I think I would have liked Nancy Kerrigan more if she had Jack's tattoos.
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I think Jack is too modest to share his triumphant Twitter post:
... that's why you should have a disreputable youth, kids! Or more than one if you can fit them in the bed.
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what put the winner over the line was, " I am very, very sorry about your petunias."
So "petunias" just became a metaphor for...everything?
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"Revolutionary Petunia" by Alice Walker
The Nature of This Flower Is to Bloom.
Rebellious. Living.
Against the Elemental Crush.
A Song of Color
Blooming
For Deserving Eyes.
Blooming Gloriously
For its Self.(Bad poem, great sentiment, especially in this context. May a thousand disreputable youths bloom.)
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I think Jack is too modest to share his triumphant Twitter post:
... that's why you should have a disreputable youth, kids! Or more than one if you can fit them in the bed.brilliant! A friend of mine always used to say (before he got married), it's not how wide the bed is, it's how deep you can stack 'em that counts.
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rogerd wrote:
Modesty forbids me from saying anything other than to ask Nat Torkington about the time he walked into my house, demanded to know "How many goats did you have to sacrifice to make this happen?", and then wrote the evening up for Usenet consumption.
I still dine out on that. But I'm ashamed to admit that it's not bathtubs I think of when I see your name, it's the paper bag ...
I'm disappointed that my Usenet post doesn't seem to have survived the 15 years. I guess rushing off to post to Usenet was the early 90s "I'm blogging this". Which in turn was the early 2000s "I"m Tweeting this".
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Amy Gale wrote:
- So, yeah, the cats were fine, everything was good, and I smoked your stash.
- My stash?
- Uh huh, I found your stash, and I invited people round, and we smoked it.
- My...stash?
- In the freezer.
- ... you smoked the catnip?Of all the stories you could tell, thank you for choosing that one. My apologies for being late with the most recent payment, but I have left the money in your office (small unmarked bills, as you requested) and I give you my word that there will be no more delays in the future.
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I think Hilary's "discussing cultural differences" deserves an honorable mention. It has become my official successor to discussing the Ugandan situation.
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So "petunias" just became a metaphor for...everything?
Actually, I must come clean and say that it was a mixed bed of petunias and pansies. But in the retelling, I decided to sacrifice botanical accuracy for brevity.
Because no-one ever said, "botanical accuracy is the soul of wit."
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I very much doubt if I could recognise the difference between petunias and pansies while sober in broad daylight, much less while lying in the dark drunkenly declining an indecent act upon my person. Kudos.
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I think Hilary's "discussing cultural differences" deserves an honorable mention. It has become my official successor to discussing the Ugandan situation.
A friend was telling me about a boy of her acquaintance, who used to use the line "would you like to come to my flat and look at my topiaries." Love.
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Belatedly (it's a busy morning, and I have to spend the afternoon at my daughter's final assembly watching her not receive a richly deserved award for Best Bollocking Handed Out to a Teacher) I should also mention the handful of brave, depraved individuals who sent me tales by email.
Also, no matter the amount or nature of bodily excretions or bizarre exertions, I kept finding myself thinking, "Aw, that's really sweet."
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Oh PS, Nat said it was okay to tell "the slipper story". That's how I remember the conversation going, anyway.
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I very much doubt if I could recognise the difference between petunias and pansies
Shame on you. Of course the fact that once a week I spend half a day each week helping petunias have sex helps my identification skills.
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Of course the fact that once a week I spend half a day each week helping petunias have sex helps my identification skills.
The pansies, however, need no assistance? (My guess: they're always up for a spot of cottage-gardening).
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Because no-one ever said, ""botanical accuracy is the soul of wit."
Oh, ye of so wee imagination. :)
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Jo S,
Of course the fact that once a week I spend half a day each week helping petunias have sex helps my identification skills.
The pansies, however, need no assistance? (My guess: they're always up for a spot of cottage-gardening).
Oh the petunias are always up for it, it's a matter of making them have sex the way you want them to ...
(nudge nudge wink wink)
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