Chick-Nag

I Fart in Your General Direction!

Magdalicious — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 03:24:38 +0000

Revenge doesn’t always smell sweet.

My friends will attest to the fact that I’m no Barbie doll. I’m not that into fashion, don’t wear loads of make-up most days and I really don’t care for high-heeled shoes. My distaste for most things “girly” has earned me more than a few sneers and distasteful comments from the opposite sex, but I’ve always comforted myself with the knowledge that I would never want anything to do with a man who wants a Barbie doll on his arm. I want a man who can handle a WOMAN. Not a plastic toy built in a fantasy world.

One guy I dated – very briefly – learned exactly how strongly I felt about my convictions the hard way. Let’s call him Dufus.

I met Dufus in a time of weakness. I was lonely, had been single a long time and MAN, was he gorgeous! He was a friend of my closest friend, so I told myself he had to be a good guy, despite a few early clues pointing to the contrary. So, Dufus and I had a fling that lasted maybe 3 weeks before we became disenchanted with each other. On the day I had decided I had really had it with this guy, he had pissed me off already 2 or 3 times with dumbass comments when he pulled out the mother of them all on me.

I don’t remember the conversation that led to this, but he was telling me that he firmly believed that women shouldn’t EVER fart. In fact in his mind, girls never pooped, farted, burped or had any bodily functions other than sex. We were just like blow-up dolls. He probably thought we shouldn’t talk too, but was at least smart enough not to say that one out loud.

I was quick to tell Dufus that, despite his childish delusions, ALL women fart and poop and can do all sorts of gross things just like boys but then he put his finger right in my face and told me with a straight face: “Don’t you dare ever fart in front of me!” WOW did this guy not know me! It was only his good luck that I didn’t have a massive juicy one available right there and then in his car in the dead of winter because I really wanted to let him have it. Having no immediate ammo available however, I started to think of how I could really show him.

I mentioned before that Dufus and I worked together. In fact, we were bartenders in a pub. And we all know that the area behind a bar is usually not that huge. Well, on that day, I vowed to myself that each and every fart I ever felt coming on while he was at work with me would be unleashed as close to him as possible and better yet, aimed in his general direction.

For months, I would walk from one end of the bar to another, pretending to reach for something that was close to him I would let them rip full force as close to his nose as I could get them. Even the ones that weren’t so silent went unnoticed because of the loud music. Once I even let one drop right on his head while he was crouched right below me reaching for something he’d dropped under the sink. He never guessed that the random smells he was getting now and again were coming from me. Besides, there are often random nasty smells in bars, and he didn’t have much reason to think much of it.

On our last day of work, as we worked in a place that operated seasonally, I told him what I’d been doing. Only those who know the extent of this guy’s shallowness can appreciate how disgusted he looked. He only shook his head and walked away, but I never felt such victory in seeing a slickly greenish hue to the color of a person’s cheeks. So there!

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

Stranger Danger! A Near Miss?

Magdalicious — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 03:16:35 +0000

Today’s little lesson, don’t talk to strangers, or at least don’t let them take you back to their hunting cabin in the middle of nowhere!

Alright, so let’s call us James and Jane. So we were driving on a road trip, coming close to Edmonton, Alberta. Neither of us had been there before, but we were going to be staying with James’ cousin. Unfortunately, we were getting close, and we couldn’t get a hold of her by phone, nor did we have an address. This was late in the day, and we decided to pull off the road for a break. We slapped some sandwiches together, and chilled.

Meanwhile, some guy in an old pick up truck drives up and asks us if we need help. That was nice of him, but really, we’re just eating sandwiches (no distress here). So he drives off. But, less than 10 minutes later, he comes back, and offers us a place to stay. He has a hunting cabin up in the woods, up this road. So, before I can open my mouth, my boyfriend says, “actually, that’d be great!”. And we proceed to follow his truck up this road.

Well, I was pissed. I couldn’t believe James had agreed to this, and I had to explain to him that because I’m a girl, I was raised to stay away from potential ax murderers (or something to this extent). So, he tells me that he didn’t think about it like that, but that now he was freaked out too. When, we get there, it’s just 9the guy and his son who visits him on weekends (he’s late teens-mid twenties). He offers us drinks and of coarse I decline, but James takes one. And, the guy shows us his wolf pelts of all the wolves that he shoots on his property! He also offers us his son’s bed to sleep in. But, so help me, I was going to lock myself in the van all night.

However, to wrap this story up, we finally managed to get a hold of the cousin on our cell phone, and sped off back to the high way. Now, this guy could have been completely genuine. And he said that he’d received a lot of generousness in his traveling days, and just wanted to give back. But I wasn’t taking that risk. I wish I had words to describe this cabin that he took us too, but trust me, it was creepy.

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

We Need Your Stories!

Magdalicious — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 05:38:57 +0000

The thing that will make this a great place to hang out is a steady flow of awesome stories to read. No one person could possibly come up with all this awesome content… so come on don’t be shy!!! Email us at ChickNag@gmail.com, be heard (in secret where no one knows it’s you!!). We want to hear YOUR nags!

Updated weekly!!

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

Don’t wanna… but it’s bootifl!

Magdalicious — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 03:49:02 +0000

“I don’t want to play”

So today was one of those day’s you know we all have them, feeling gross, bloated, ugly, and definitely cranky. For me I refer to those days as the ones where ‘I don’t play well with others” or ” I don’t want to play in your sand box, because I will throw sand in your eyes to make you cry and then throw my bucket at you.” So today was one of those, all day people are talking to me, and I am like GRR leave me alone I don’t like anyone today, please feck off…. the end of day comes and I have been working out quite a bit so Monday’s are normally a good workout day.

I fought this knowledge all day, I had been determined to not go ( because I didn’t want to damn it) right from 7:30 in the morning. Needless to say not the best way to motivate yourself, anyhow I go to the gym, with my “I don’t want to play” attitude, which clearly didn’t work. I stayed on the treadmill for about 5 min before deciding I hated today and it was the fault my sore legs. So instead I head to the weight room (which is full of friggen motivated people who all want me to play in the sand box and smiles smiles everywhere) that lasted a whole 7 min of abs and fiddling with my mp3 and water bottle. Finally I can’t take the happy people any longer and go home.

Things are getting better, for 1 – I have left the happy motivated people in their sand box and handed in my bucket. Off to a better night, the Cab driver seems nice, doesn’t say anything but for me that’s good. I then call up my fav Thai place and order some not nutritious food that should be ready in 5 or 10 or 7 minutes. So on my way to the food, I have frumpy clothes on, grrr all the way there, don’t look at me, don’t get in my way attitude, I hear my name and I stop in my tracks and I see it is my new friend. It was actually nice to run into someone, changed my mood a bit, as we discuss (ok I bitched) about our days, this random woman walked directly up to me and said, “I know I don’t know you lady’s but I hope I can interrupt for a moment” Emmy and I are somewhat set back at the this. She turns to me and Say’s ” I just saw you from across the street and have to tell you, you have the most beautiful Bangs, your hair is so cute”.

Of course this is a shockingly nice moment in my ass of a day, so this wonderful lady continues to compliment me out of nowhere only making me feel happier and happier to the point of tears. It was the best thing that could have ever happened to me today. As she went on she proceeded to tell us that she feels that the world is just not nice enough anymore and she is has started to tell 5 people a day how beautiful they are, which in turn (as Opera has said) will make you feel more beautiful. From there I picked up my food, bottle of wine and my day couldn’t be any better.

So thank you random lady, you have made my day. And I pass this story on to all of you to spread the word, lets make others feel better because you never know when your kind words may make someones day make a complete turn around. Everyday, select 5 people and tell them they are beautiful.

Satan was my Roomate

Magdalicious — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 03:15:27 +0000

I learned a very profound lesson in the end from this experience, but at the time it did not seem like anything worthwhile was going to come of it. In fact, I lived in a constant state of “I can’t fucking believe this is actually happening… these kinda things are supposed to happen to other people!”.

It was my third year of university, and at 20 years old, I thought I had some experience in the world and with people. At least, I thought I had enough experience to make a judgement call as to an appropriate roommate, but clearly this was not the case. A guy I had gone to high school with (not a friend, just a guy) had moved to the city where I was going to Uni, and had become somewhat friends with some of my friends. They all went on and on about what a good guy he was, and he did seem quite nice,friendly and funny. He ended up staying with some of my closer friends for the summer, mostly sponging off them. Which they obviously complained about, but this never really affected me. So, when he asked if I would want to move in with him and a few other people when school started, I thought it wasn’t a bad idea. My other friends were mostly still living in residence and I wanted a change from that, as well as cheaper rent. So we found a relatively cheap house and moved in. Our other two roommates were a girl I also went to high school with, and another girl who I knew through horse riding. It was a strange situation, as they were all people I knew from different walks of life, but none of them were in university.

The roommate who I originally moved in with, started showing his true colors relatively soon after we moved our stuff into the house. He would eat other people’s food, then not accept responsiblity for it. He would take hours in our 1 bathroom. He would monopolize my computer, which was in the living room, and watch porn on it while I was at school. All of these things created tension in the house, combined with the fact that I went to bed at midnight in order to get up early for classes, but everyone else was up partying in the living room, which was adjacent to my bedroom, til all hours, I never wanted to come home to my own house anymore. My grade were slipping, because I wasn’t sleeping and because I always said I would study at the school, but that was much harder than anticipated.

Things got really bad when I went away to Mexico over Christmas break. I had told my roommate that “even if he was bleeding from the head, under no circumstances was he to use my car”. Obviously he did not listen. When I got back from Mexico, my room was ransacked. I questioned him about it and he told me that his friends had stayed over and crashed in my bed. This pissed me off as it was, ESPECIALLY because, as it turned out they had had sex in my bed and no one even changed the sheets.

BUT then it got even better when a friend of mine mentioned the subsequent day that she’d seen him driving my car. He had ransacked my room, taken my car keys and driven my car the entire time I was away in Mexico! GOD, I wished my friend had been able to call the cops and report “GRAND THEFT AUTO!” Then to top it off he drank the entire 1L bottle of Kahlua I brought back and I when I asked him to replace it, he couldn’t because he had no money. FURTHER, the asshole destroyed my fabulous slippers wearing them outside in the snow to go smoke his nasty cancer sticks :S

The money issues were well hidden from the other three of us, and never really came to light until later on. But as it turned out, in January, he lost his job. Which he neglected to mention to anyone until almost a month later, when he told us he couldn’t pay his portion of the rent. As it was his issue, we told him to talk to the landlord, and to give the landlord our money, so at least 3/4 was paid. We assumed when he “started working” again, as he told everyone, that he was therefore paying the landlord. Unfortuantely this was not so. We were in for a nasty shock, when our landlord called in April, one week before exams started, to inform us he had sold the house, because we were horrible tenants and hadn’t paid rent in 3 months, and we had 1 week to vacate the premises.

This obviously came as a HUGE shock to all of us, who had been paying our rent. HOW COULD WE BE 3 MONTHS BEHIND???? We assumed our landlord meant that he (the asshole) was 3 months behind, but as it turned out, through the grapevine we heard that it wasn’t only he who “hadn’t been paying rent”. In fact, what he had been doing was taking our cash to “pay the landlord”, keeping the cash for himself and writing the landlord a bad cheque. So we were really 3 months in arears. We got evicted the next week, but luckily for me I was able to stay at a good friend’s place for a week, and actually study there for my finals, which I managed to do well on and pull up my grades, but I will never forget what a sleezy, disgusting, manipulative human that little jackass was. I don’t even understand how he could or can live with himself. He clearly thinks (to this day) that he’s done nothing wrong.

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

The perfect plan: busses and mushes

Magdalicious — Thu, 26 Mar 2009 03:13:46 +0000

So, I’d never done mushrooms before. Mental note… don’t do a drug you’ve never done when on public transit.

So, here’s the deal… I was a runaway. I had been put on the bus to go home to my town by my boyfriend’s parents. I didn’t WANT to go home. So I ended up hooking up with a guy in the back of the bus. He had some shrooms and was willing to share.

Now, I’ve never been to Surrey on a bus. In fact, to this day, I couldn’t even begin to tell you how to get to Surrey on a bus. Yet somehow, that night, I giggled my way there. I ended up in a Pizza Hut, and fell in immediate lust with a guy at another table. I don’t know if it was the shrooms or the slutty genes I have, but I ended up picking him up, going home with him, and fucking his brains out.

Next morning I woke up with NO idea of where I was. Hopped on a bus and headed back to my boyfriend’s town (a very confusing trip, as I was probably still high and literally had no idea where I was or how to get where I was going… luckily transit drivers are very helpful). I decided that there was no use in going home. I wasn’t welcome there anyways and besides, how the hell was I going to explain where I was the night before???

Note: Shrooms = giggles & bad ideas

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

Giggles in the Bathroom

Magdalicious — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 03:29:36 +0000

Back when I was living in South America, I was traveling this beach town. We were staying at some hostel on this great little surfing beach, and there were some really fun people from all over there for the holidays.

There was one guy there, he was a local and friends with some of the people who ran the hostel, and he was a total hottie had a smile that didn’t quit. Seriously this guy could have been the spokesman for Crest for all of South America.

One evening we were sitting around drinking beers on the patio and one of the guys starts to pass a joint around. Now normally I could take the stuff or leave it, but I thought “screw it I’m on vacation”. Do I joined in on the next couple of passes. Let the giggles begin. Next thing I know pretty boy is beckoning me to join him in the bathroom. Oh simple me, I’m wondering what in god’s name this guy wants me to do in the bathroom? What hold it for him..? Weird… I mean dude you’re hot.. but no one is that hot.

Suddenly it dawns on me that he wants to fool around! Now I’m thinking…. What no.. I can’t that’s so wrong. Meanwhile the stories I’ve heard of people having random hookups in in hostels and especially hostel bathrooms, are dancing through my mind. So drunk and stoned I think.. what the hell why not! If it’s not as fun as everyone makes it sound then I’ll just leave, right?

So there we are getting naked, stoned and drunk in a hostel bathroom, in someone else’s room, with no lock on the door… . Next thing I know, someone is knocking on the door.. Oh crap.. it’s the guy who works at the hostel my pretty friend’s friend. So now he’s chatting to the guy who I’m having sex with through the window… ” Dude, what are you doing in there with the lights off?” ” The bathroom is occupied and I’m BUSY!” “OOOHHHHH ahahhahaha Who’s in there with you??” (This is all in the local language, which I understand). At this point I start to giggle like a retard… He recognized my voice and laughed his ass off and left.

Well now it’s all over, I can’t stop laughing… we continued with our ‘adventure’ but I spent the rest of the time ‘against a wall’ sipping my drink and giggling like a stoned teenager.

We tossed out clothes back on, and went back downstairs to the hostel bar. I spent the rest of the night giggling to my self, because I just did the nasty in the bathroom with this random dude who’s real name I don’t even remember (his nickname was Ninja if that counts for anything). Everyone just thought the giggles were due to the weed… little did they know.

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

I Just Don’t Love you Anymore…

Magdalicious — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 02:01:52 +0000

I was really messed up by the breakup. Two days before we were to leave for our epic journey together, what I saw as the beginning of our life together, he finally let slip the source of his increasingly showing discontent. We were at my parent’s house for a 10 day visit before our South American tour. It all seemed too perfect. And we all know what they say about things that seem too good to be true.

He didn’t love me anymore. He didn’t want to move to South America. Or at least not with me. Whatever it was that drove him to drop his life and come live with me and make these plans, wasn’t there anymore. He gave no reasons. The love in his eyes had been replaced by coldness and contempt. So much contempt, which until that moment in my parent’s living room after everyone else had gone to sleep, had been kept out of my reach. Until that moment, when I asked what was troubling him, I was given dismissive answers in condescending tones. There, on my mother’s sofa, I cried and sat bewildered. I knew I should have seen this coming, but my longing for the life I’d made up in my head to be our future pushed me to ignore the signs I can see so clearly now.

Now what? Plane tickets were booked and non-refundable. My parents would surely worry if I were to go anyway on my own, and they would make a fuss I wasn’t ready to face. I wasn’t ready for the understanding nods and sympathetic speeches telling me I could do better and would find someone who was right for me. No way could I face my friends’ inevitable reactions of shock and concern when they learned of the demise of the couple they all agreed seemed so perfect for each other. I didn’t want to stay home and find another mundane job and complain about money like all my friends were doing. He agreed that his timing couldn’t possibly have been worse, but he said he couldn’t go on lying to me – or himself.

That night he was trying to be as gentle with me as he could. Joking and giving me the “you’re a great person” speech. I went to bed and he followed. He put his arms around me and asked what I wanted to do. I wanted to go traveling, but how could I still go now? I don’t remember who suggested traveling together for a little while anyway. I think it was his idea, but if it was, it may have been an empty offer – like when someone offers a piece of their chocolate bar just to be polite. But I clung to the possibility that maybe, in a new environment, the feeling of abandon that comes with being on the road, might help us find the real source of the problem and reconcile. A small part of me insisted on believing there was a chance he’d fall in love with me all over again once we were in new and exotic settings.

So I put on my best happy mask and pretended nothing happened for the remaining days with my parents and friends at home. I know my parents picked up on something not being quite right, but I never let them see my sorrow, my panic, my feelings of failure. My parents drove us to the airport and saw us off.

Even on the plane, my hopes of getting back what was lost began to crumble. He didn’t seem to like it if I put my head on his shoulder or gave him my bravest smile and told him we were going to have a great time. Trying to convince myself as much as him.

We arrived in Lima, Peru and checked into just any hotel so we could catch up on lost sleep from 3 flights, countless hours of waiting for connections and endless security line-ups. The room had a television and a private bathroom, and he seemed to be in good spirits when we finally put our bags down. Our room had two beds, but he crawled in with me in the one I had chosen to watch a cheesy 80′s movie starring Keanu Reeves in his early teens. He slept in the other bed, but I had hope that we could somehow figure out how to at least be close friends on this trip. I thought I could come to terms with the recent changes in my life’s plan and stay strong while he was right there, looking so comfortable with himself.

Day two was mostly uneventful and the atmosphere between us was quiet and mostly comfortable. We ignored the elephant in the space between us quite well. And later that night, we met some fun people in the hostel bar, and talked about the sights and attractions we might visit and the places they had been to. We drank a bit too much and ended up in bed together.

Not for a moment did I think this was a sign of his changing his mind, I could now really feel that it was truly over for him. But still, I was stubborn in my belief that we could make this traveling together thing work. I didn’t want to travel alone again, dreading having to relive the feelings of insecurity and loneliness I felt so often when I had done so a few years back.

We arrived in Huaraz after sunset and found a very quaint hostel for the night. Tired out by the journey and still a little hung over from the night before, we holed up with our friends – a guy and a girl from England who were also not a couple – to watch a movie in the TV room before heading to bed early. I was still having a hard time adjusting to sleeping by myself, as we chose to stay in dorm rooms to save money.

The days that followed were nothing like I’d expected. The boys planned all these elaborate climbing trips that didn’t include me or the other girl, who didn’t mind of course, because she was on her way to other destinations on her own in another day or so. More and more, I felt like my presence was a burden to him. Especially when I was the only girl in the group and our English friend was almost as experienced at climbing and mountaineering as he was. When they talked about the 3-day hike we were all going to go on, I got nervous about all the technical climbing that seemed to be involved and suggested that maybe I should stay behind. What I really thought would happen, what I wanted to happen, was that he would comfort me and tell me he’d help me through it. Instead, he seemed to jump at the idea of leaving me behind and hot having to look after me.

I started to feel depressed. This wasn’t anything like I’d hoped it would be. We fought about his attitude, and he told me I wasn’t being understanding enough of his position in all this, and how he was feeling. He needed some space and I was always around. I thought this was unfair since it wasn’t like I had other people to hang out with in this small town and I was afraid to go out alone. We went to sleep without making much progress.

In the next town, an even smaller town in the desert, and this time without the English friend, we had our ups and downs. I cried and poured my heart out about how I was feeling left out and hurt by his cold-shouldered attitude. He nodded and looked at his feet, not really commenting. But we at least agreed to try harder with each other. Again, we drank too much and ended up in bed together. He even put his arm around me the next morning, and I had to remind myself it wasn’t like before.

We moved on again to a place called Arequipa. This is where it all fell apart for good. We met a few people and hung out with them for a few days. We celebrated the birthday of one of the girls, and drank the night away. One of the girls was grilling me about what my relationship to him was. I tried to stay vague but told her we weren’t a couple. He left the bar with a chubby blond. I tried to pretend like it didn’t bother me. I kept on drinking and made small talk with some of the others in the bar. That’s when one of the blond’s friends approached me and told me that her friend was feeling embarrassed because she’d tried to fuck him but he couldn’t get it up. I resisted telling her that always happens to him when he’s drunk. Chubby girl thought it was because of me and the friend was now asking me to console her and tell her I didn’t care if she slept with him. “Come on, please? It’s my birthday and she’s being a downer!” She had no idea what she was asking of me.

This was more than I signed up for. Although the situation with the friend getting me mixed up in the situation wasn’t his fault, I cursed him for being so insensitive and picking up some girl not 3 weeks after we broke up, right under my nose to top it all off. I told the friend I didn’t want to be involved and went to my room (which was miraculously empty) to cry into my pillow. When he came back into the room I drunkenly ranted and raved at him for being such an asshole. He reacted indignantly and insisted that he had done nothing wrong – we weren’t a couple anymore, after all.

The next day, I left without him and went South, knowing he would be going East. I told him that I couldn’t handle traveling with him in these kinds of circumstances and I wasn’t going to put myself through it anymore. He acted concerned, but I saw the relief in his eyes.

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

You’re Such a Jerk, I’m glad We’re Over

Magdalicious — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 03:06:52 +0000

I went out with my ex for 3 and half years. I knew that it was unhealthily claustrophobic and it got to the stage where I really needed to get out as I’d lost so much of my sense of fun and confidence and I had not even realized how bad it had got. Still even after breaking up with him and reconnecting with all my best friends and getting myself back in the social loop and back to dressing up and dancing all night with fights I still kind of felt vaguely guilty about the whole thing. Somehow that it was my fault for changing and letting him down and just that we were not compatible.

As we broke up a few years ago I don’t think about this much so I was surprised when mucking about on myspace a few people down a chain of acquaintances I saw his new girlfriend as a friend’s good friend. So I clicked on her page and read this-

‘…and thank fuck for that! This has just been the shoddiest time as I finally realised that the person I was ‘going out with’ ( a euphemism for slowly stripping shreds of my self confidence away until I couldn’t even focus) was the biggest regret I have. Above and over crackhead boyfriends and being fed through a tube and ‘issues’ and rubbish friends. I met him in the super hot summer of 2006 and I was so happy, happy like Zap does happy, uni was going well, I could go out and dance and talk to people and listen to music late at night and play cards in bed if I felt like it….by the end of it I was a nervous wreck on beta blockers who can no longer drink (and that is tough when you have three Christmas do’s a week for weeks with people you barely know who want you to do karaoke) and no faith in my own opinions or who I am. It is strange to lose your entire sense of self. And of course, I take responsibility for my actions, for being so unable to say no, for trying to break it off so many times and always caving in because of overwhelming guilt and the idea that I am the only person tethered to any kind of reality that he even knows. I know that I could have been a lot more mentally strong and that I am weak and easily manipulated, that problems are always present and I don’t need any pushing to hate myself.

The last few weeks, now that he is no longer there, have been amazing, the lightness and the ability to be free, not to be shouted at with such venom over the fact I like Pavement and LCD Sound system, to sleep without being moaned at, to be in a room and not have to beg someone to leave me alone, to just give me some space.’

I don’t why but this has made me think about things a lot and whilst she clearly has had a crap time its almost comforting as it kind of confirms that he was unreasonable and manipulative and maybe its not totally my fault I was so miserable and couldn’t seem to work out why. I kind of knew I wasn’t all the things he insidiously accused me of such as being dull and conformist (which I am to an extent, but having a job, being independent and not sponging off my Mum is something worth conforming to I think), and stupid and picky and I don’t know nothing good, but to hear that he has turned someone else (I met the girl a few times through friends she looks like Cate Blanchet meets Kate Moss and was really fun to hang out with) really confirms that.

I suppose I thought I’d post this as it showed me that maybe I had a lot of insecurity from an old relationship that I wasn’t really dealing with and it takes a random source (his ex-girl in this case) to appreciate I don’t need to carry that. I am tempted to write her an email to say its ok I know how she feels, but think that would be too odd (I mean I read your blog on myspace makes me sound a bit stalker-ish even though I haven’t seen her page for well over a year) and maybe not be as helpful for her.

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.

I’ll take the Soup with a Side of Herpies Please

Magdalicious — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 03:18:05 +0000

Alright. This one’s short, and gross.

One day I was waitressing and someone ordered the soup. It was a slow day, so it was relatively quiet in the kitchen. I went in, and there was a cup of the soup on the warming counter. I took it to the lady and went back to the kitchen. Then, one of my co-workers said, “Where’s my soup?”

Next thing I know the kitchen said “soup’s up”. I’m thinking… crap, I said, “Oh no, I think I took your soup!” Which wouldn’t have mattered, had my co0worker not already eaten out of the soup that I just served. And really that wouldn’t have been sooo bad, except she then told me that she currently had an open cold sore on her lip. Ohhh myy god! We both laughed, but really we felt bad at the same time. Unfortunately it was too late to do anything about it, so best not to do or say anything at all.

Man does this need to stay anonymous, I never told my boss!

Anonymous

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All stories are submitted anonymously and I post them, these are not my stories I merely pass them on.