Tag Archives: Story

Bare in Mind


Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, Nobody

This is a little story about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody.

There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it.

Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.

Somebody got angry about that because it was Everybody’s job.

Everybody thought that Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn’t do it.

It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done

The title is not incorrect, its a play on words.

I have no idea who wrote this, but it wasn’t me. I just think its something we need reminding of from time to time.

Who is Jack Schitt?

“Who is Jack Schitt?”, you ask. Many people are at a loss for a response when someone says “You don’t know Jack Schitt!” Well now it is possible for you to intellectually handle this situation……………………….

Jack Schitt is the only son of Awe Schitt and Oh Schitt. Awe Schitt, the fertilizer magnate married Oh Schitt, the owner of Knee Deep In Schitt Inc.

Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt and the deeply religious couple produced 6 children : Holie Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Giva Schitt, Bull Schitt, Deep Schitt and Dipp Schitt.

Against her parents wishes, Deep Schitt married Dumb Schitt, the High School dropout.

After 15 years of marriage, Jack and Noe Schitt divorced. Noe Schitt later re-married a Mr. Sherlock and because some of her kids were living with them, she wanted to keep her previous name. She was then known as Noe Schitt – Sherlock.

Dipp Schitt married Loda Schitt and they produced a nervous son – Chicken Schitt.

Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt were inseparable throughout their childhood and subsequently married the Happens sisters in a dual ceremony. The local newspaper ran the story ‘The Schitt Happens Wedding’. The Schitt Happens chidren are Dawg Schitt, Byrd Schitt and Horse Schitt.

Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world and recently returned with his new Italian wife Pisa Schitt.

So now, when someone says “You don’t know Jack Schitt!”……………………………..you can correct them. 

I dont know who wrote this one either, just find it hilariously amusing.

A Dog named Sex

When I went to City Hall to renew my dog’s license I told the clerk I wanted a license for Sex. He said, “I’d like one too!” Then I said, “But this is a dog.” He said he didn’t care what she looked like. Then I said, “You don’t understand. I’ve had Sex since I was nine years old.” He winked at me and said, “You must have been quite a kid.”

When I got married and went on my honeymoon I took my dog with me. I told the hotel clerk I wanted a room for my wife and myself, and a special room for Sex. He said, “You don’t need a special room for Sex. As long as you pay your bill, we don’t care what you do.” I said, “Look, you don’t seem to understand. Sex keeps me awake at night.” The clerk said, “Funny, I have the same problem.”

Well, one day I entered Sex in a contest but before the competition began the dog got loose and ran away. Another contestant asked me why I was just standing there looking disappointed. I told him I had planned to have Sex in the contest. He said, “Wonderful! If you sell tickets you’ll clean up!” “But you don’t understand”, I said. “I want to have Sex on TV.” He said, “They already have that on Cable. It’s no big deal any more.”

Well my wife and I decided to separate, so we went to court to fight for custody of the dog. I said to the judge, “Your Honor, I had Sex before I was married.” The Judge said, “The courtroom is not a confessional. Please stick to the facts.” Then I told him that after I was married Sex left me. He said, “Me too.”

Well last night Sex ran away again, and I spent hours looking all over for him. A cop came over to me and asked, What are you doing in this alley at four o’clock in the morning?” I said, “I’m looking for Sex.”

My case comes up soon.

Just a little something to help pass the day with a guffaw and a smile.

Advertisements

The Road To?


Is it possible to have deja vu before the event? It’s an interesting hypothesis methinks. Or is a dream a precursor of an event yet to occur? Or both?

Imagine, if you will, a scenario where you, the onlooker, are a part of a dream, yet you see it with your own eyes, played out before you in a theatre of you dream. Its your dream, that’s never in doubt, but if it were OUR dream, why can we not influence the outcomes? What if your dream became a reality, years after the dream occurred? Would that blow your mind?

Its 4am, sitting behind the wheel of my truck with the music hitched up to a level that fills the cab with sound. Cigarette in one hand, the other lightly holding the steering wheel. This journey is a new route. Liverpool is west, then south, Manchester, Stockport to be precise is south, then west.  A1/M1 south, M62 west, M60 inner ring road southwest, A6 south, turn off into business park at the George and Dragon. Simple enough.

The new M1/M62 Interchange is interesting, all merging lanes and no roundabouts. Except, hang on, I know this road, boy do I know this road. How? It’s the first time I have traveled it. But hang in the left lane up the hill, stay left, then merge right through the underpass to join/filter the M62. This doesn’t make sense. I know where I am going, signposts are ignored. Like a homing pigeon I can navigate this complicated interchange with my eyes closed. Why? Because I have been here in a dream, that’s why.

My partner and I are on our own journey, unrelated. The car breaks down and we use the cell phone to call assistance. Meanwhile, I see in the rearview mirror, a large gang of people heading our way. They look menacing to me. I have seen the movies, lock the doors and stay safe. To hell with that, we are out and running before we even know it.

We are chased right through the subway that I just drove. We are below ground level. Maintenance ladder, climb girl, climb. Up we go to the next level. Run, just bloody run lass, for your damned life. Another ladder, up we go. Theres an old fuel stop, deserted. Hide, we hide, we can’t run much more. I vault the fence and start trying to drag a section down so she can follow. I can’t move it, fuck! They are approaching, fast. It’s too late, too late. They take her from my grasp. I am powerless to prevent what happens. I still feel the guilt. I am yellow!

Part of it is dramatised, but still true. How could I know this road? It’s impossible, logic screams that. But I know the road, even though I have never driven on it, ever. How can that be? The dream was months before the event. It spooked me. I had to pull over and stop shaking.


My entry to the Monday Morning Writing Prompt

http://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2011/04/24/monday-morning-writing-prompt-dream-symbolism/


Wordle [up]


” The whisper in the morning of lovers sleeping tight”

“Not that one, the other one”

” Oh, you mean, “Time can never mend, the careless whisper of a good friend” that one”?

“Yeah, that’s the one, reminds me of youth club disco’s on a friday night”

“So that’s what you used to get up to on a Friday night”

“Yep, the scent of girls on heat and beer is one I will never forget”

“Girls on heat, what the fuck is that supposed to mean”?

“It’s what I used to call it when I walked past a girl and you could smell the pheromones there gave off. It was almost an invite”

“You’re sick you are”

I laughed at that, me, sick? That is how it was. Boys, high on beer and testosterone and girls wearing too much perfume to mask the smell of alcohol from Daddy when they got home. The perfume could not disguise that smell of pheromones though, nothing could.

It was at one of those disco’s I met Jen. I knew her from a distance, but being the new boy in town, I had not plucked up the courage to speak to her yet. But that indigo dress she wore just blew me away and I knew I had to have this girl. I was brave, or should that be, I was going to speak to her because I was oveflowing with “Dutch” courage?

I watched from the wall and waited, just biding my time. I lit another cigarette and did my best macho man walk over to where she sat down with her friends. Have you any idea how daunting that is? Its bad enough approaching one girl by herself, but a whole table of them? What if she said no? Oh, the embarrassment of it. I was busy trying to think of my best chat up lines, what should I say? I was almost to the point of calling it off and just getting the hell out of there, but just as that thought entered my head, she smiled at me, or at least I thought it was at me, hard to tell with all those flashing lights. But that was the boost I needed and I just carried on walking over anyway, fuck the rejection, if it came, it came. But this time, I just bit the bullet and went for it.

“Hi Jen, fancy some fresh air as I need a chance for my eardrums to heal”?

“What took you so long”?

I had no idea what she meant.

“Sorry”

“I have been wanting you to ask me out since I first saw you”

I think my smile must have lit up the whole dance floor it was so wide. How could I have not noticed that? How stupid of me. But, the ice was broken and she stood up and took my hand.

Outside, the night was cool. I could see her nipples through that dress and that excited me. I don’t know to this day if she was aware of that or not, but I certainly was. Her own aroma was like ambrosia to my nostrils, I had never imagined a smell like that could exist. I was convinced I had found my dream girl. Whether she was my soul mate or not was something that only the passing of time would reveal.

I walked her home that night. We never did get back inside. The walk was slow, languid and probably the most enjoyable walk of my life. We said very little. Words were cheap and I think we just wanted to enjoy each others company in relative silence.

The stars appeared to shimmer in the night sky and the moon hung like a partially illuminated globe in the sky. It was very romantic in a Mills and Boon kind of way, except I am no tall, dark, handsome stranger. More like short, pale, somewhat known. But still, it was a setting deserving of our first night together.

The weeks and months drifted by and we spent our time getting to know one an other.Thats always a great time, even more satisfying when you realise that a person you adore is not some psycho, axe wielding, sociopath. We talked long into the night most nights before I went to my home. I was hoping that we could both lose our virginity together. We talked about it often enough. We both wanted it to be right, in every single way and a quick fumble somewhere just wouldn’t cut it.

Sadly, this never came to pass. We got into arguing a lot, for silly reasons and slowly drove a wedge between us. We parted, badly, with recriminations on both sides.

Later, I found out the person she did lose her virginity to. Not someone I had much time for and slightly surprising she could love someone like him. So I decided, what the hell and went out in a blaze of glory. I waited my time, just itching to get even. When I did, it was sweet, I loved the thrill of it, it was better than sex ever could be.

I am writing to tell this story from behind bars, on the same day they bury the one person who I ever really loved, and the asshole who took what was to be mine. Seems it was her who met the axe wielding psychopath!


Used and Abused?


Does everyone ask this question at some point, or is it just my own paranoia?

I have always been a helpful person, I like helping out where I can, I gat satisfaction from helping others. I have always been the kind of person who would give you the shirt off my back if you were cold or you had a greater need than my own. I am not, never have been nor ever will be, a good donator to charity. If I sent £2 a month to every charity that asked me to, I would be bankrupt by now. I always feel that, if I give to one, I need to give to all. I mean, all charities are worthwhile causes. The RSPCC [The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children] is always asking for money to help abused kids and I always have tears in my eyes when I see ads like that. The PDSA [Peoples Dispensary for Sick Animals] and RSPCA [The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals] always need money to help sick animals and is a great cause if you are an animal lover, which I am. I hate to see cruelty to animals of children. But cancer charities need money, The Heart Foundation need money, every single charity needs money and I just can’t give to them all, so I give to none. I do things differently. If I see someone standing with a collection tin, then I put whatever change I have in there, get my sticker and carry on with what I was doing. If I see a collection box in a shop, any change I get after paying for something, goes right in that box. I do give, just in different ways. Theres a huge event every year in the north-east of England, The Great North Run takes place every year and is the worlds biggest half marathon. In my healthy days, I have run it 5-6 times, always getting sponsors to raise a little money if I can. But always in that run are the collectors with their buckets who collect from spectators as they go. A bucketful of change is very heavy and by the end of the run, those who collect that way must have very sore arms. But I usually go to see the start of the race as its only a short walk from where I live and always take some change with my so that I can put in to those buckets. So I give my fair share whenever I can, that’s just how I am. I never expect or want anything in return. My pleasure is in giving, not taking.

But getting away from that and back on topic, sometimes I feel that people just use me and would not be seen in my hour of need. Indeed, when I became ill, apart from one lad, my so-called mates have disappeared off the face of the earth. I used to play a lot of football [soccer] and if any of my mates needed a player, they would contact me and I would go and play. Sometimes I played football for 3 hrs one 5 a side game after another. That’s all well and good, and I always enjoyed playing, but that always came at a price. It was £4-£5 a game, so in a week I could easily spend £30-£50 playing football. You pay for the facilities and a referee. But seldom did I ever say no to anyone who asked, but where are they now?

I am starting to find the same again. This time its different though. I am still always happy to help where I can, even though my health aint great, I do what I can when I can. I play poker and have numerous accounts across a lot of poker sites. I would start new accounts to take up deposit bonus offers, or to make some points that could be exchanged for cash. I started a group within a poker forum that’s there so that members can ask for cash trades or loans and not fear being ripped off. It’s a popular group, very active as our North American friends have a hard time trying to deposit or withdraw from poker sites now due to new regulations over there. The thing is though, it always seems to be me helping out.

All, or most of the sites operate with $ not £ and I am sure I am getting a bum deal with the conversion rates. But I don’t like to say no. I will deposit on a site, just so I can transfer money to someone on a different site and they pay me back via another site. Theres always cash going back and forth but due to the exchange rates constantly changing, I might be getting a bum deal and need to find that out. I think some people are starting to think that I am a soft touch and will help out with trades etc etc and for the most part, I will. I am just not sure what I am doing is right. Am I allowing people to use me because they know I wont say no. Last night, I made a $167 deposit on Stars to help someone out. From helping one, possibly two, it spiraled to 5 I think at last count and from a balance of $220 give or take, theres under a ton left now. So I exchanged £100 to dollars and got $167 I think, now I have to get at least that as all pay backs have been to AP. If I take $167 out of AP, if its less than $167, then it has cost me to help people out. I don’t mind that too much, but where do you draw the line and say no I can’t help you out? That’s going to cause me a lot of conflict as I want to help, but my own financial situation aint great and I can’t afford to be losing money each time I help someone out. Losing a $1 here and there soon starts to add up and before you know it, you are $10 down and then $15, then $20. So maybe I need to have a rethink about just how often I help. Just by looking at the exchange rate, I am going to be $5 down on this I think. £100 converts to $162.70 as of now. Hopefully that will change in my favour but if the dollar gains against the pound, then loses will increase.

Oh well, I guess that’s the way the cookie crumbles sometimes. But if this trend continues where I am helping multiple people out, then maybe a fee might have to be introduced to help cover the costs. I am not poor, but am far from rich either. We don’t owe anyone money, we aint in debt, but if I turned round and told my partner I just lost $5 helping someone out, she would tell me I am a fool, and she would have a point.

So enduth another blog. They are coming thick and fast right now. I am feeling quite creative right now and am riding it. I never know when things might change, so just go with the flow and enjoy the feeling and use it to good effect if possible. Maybe I need to get moe creative on the poker tables as well?  Talking of which, not had a lot of action recently. Just not looking to play much right now, I don’t know why, just enjoying time away from the tables and playing the odd game here and there. My game is ok right now, but so is the variance. I am hitting pretty good, which helps a lot, but that could change at anytime. I really should be making the most of the upswing, but I am not. I have to try to profit from the upswings when they arrive instead of letting them pass by. But that’s for another day, for now, that’s this one done and dusted.

Toodle Pip