13 posts tagged “qotd”
Do you think real love can last throughout any distance, or will long distance end most relationships?
Submitted by Miss Joy.
The difficulty there, of course, is that people assume that real love is present in 'most relationships'. I think the two are unrelated in the manner the question is posed. Most long distance relationships fail. Most relationships based on real love don't. I don't think the two statements are connected.
If you can't put up with a little bit of distance, then it isn't real love, is it?
What are 10 things you've done that other people probably haven't?
Submitted by Janette.
I'm not sure I can come up with ten, but I'll try:
1: Moved on less than 3 days notice to a foreign country for a new job on the strength of a phone call with just two suitcases of possessions to survive with. Twice.
2: Moved on less than 10 days (the last time) notice to a foreign country for a new job on the strength of a phone call.
3: All car related, and so not deserving separate points, but still fairly unusual:
3.1: Travelled at 177mph in an Aston Martin on a disused runway and not looked where I was going (I was checking data from the telemetry system that was ascertaining how likely the engine was to blow up if we went faster) as we rapidly approached a 40 foot high earth bank.
3.2: Driven on the public highway at over 150mph in my own car.
3.3: Purchased a car from 2,500 miles away, in a different country, having never seen it in the flesh (er...metal).
3.4: Travelled across England with a broken speedometer (whilst being blissfully unaware of this) for almost exactly two hours in a 25 year old Ferrari (not mine) and getting out of the car to look at my watch and realise that I must have averaged over a hundred miles an hour to have made the journey in that time. I did think it was noisy for 85mph...
3.5: Driven a racing car that I have built/Built more racing cars than you've probably seen on the TV in the last 5 years.
3.6: Driven 1000 miles through 4 European countries in 10 hours (including a ferry crossing) in a ₤600 rust bucket of a car.
3.7: [Insert a long list of incredibly irresponsible (ie much more so than the above) acts involving cars and speed (and, on occasion sitting on the bonnet at the time) moments over an extended period. Most, if not all, of which were illegal.]
4: Walked 35 miles non-stop over mixed terrain for charity. At night. At the age of 13 (although it did take me 12 hours and cost me several blisters and hypothermia for falling in a ditch full of water in the dark).
5: Driven a 100 mile round trip just to put flowers on my Mum's table for her birthday (by way of making up for all the other years I'd totally forgotten).
6: Willingly parted with over ₤2K just to get my then (psycho) girlfriend 'the fuck out of my house and my life'. No. I didn't have anything like that sort of money to hand at the time. But it was totally fucking worth it.
7: Piloted a two seater aeroplane at 1500 foot over my own house, being powered by an experimental/development engine that I had finished building entirely myself that week and finished installing in the plane (also entirely myself) that morning. And I don't have a pilot's license (although the other bloke in the plane did).
8: Made my (male, 45 year old) boss cry in a meeting involving everyone in the company just by answering his (possibly ill advised) question of "Well, honestly, what do you think I should have done, then?". I kept the job for a further 18 months and outlasted him, for reference, before I handed in my notice.
9: Been within 6 foot of a car when another car crashed into it at about 75mph and its fuel tank exploded. No--one was in it by this stage. I ran away.
10: Been on a beach at almost the very tip of northern Scotland, drunk, at 3 am on New Years day, running across a beach 12 inches deep in snow chasing seagulls just because it was the most fucking bizarre thing that had occurred to me in weeks.
Yeah, I think that'll do. There are a million more car related ones (especially racing car related) that most people won't have done, and a fair few more not car-related that people won't have done, but that I'm not sure I want to crow about in the open like this. Some filthy, some not so filthy...
List five reasons (at least) why you are awesome.
Submitted by goobers18.
I think you'll find that it is spelled AWESOME. And, to be honest, I simply don't have the time to whittle it down to a mere five reasons. Rest assured, however, that you can still go about your day and know full well that you are deep, deep in my shadow.
That is all.
Tell us a true story that proves it really is a small world after all.
Submitted by havybeaks.
One day, I woke up. This, to me, was not entirely unusual. Almost a habit, in fact. It was early in the morning, and I was sleepy. As is often the case, I was having a bit of a sleepy day dream thing about some hot girl (or my reflection, I don't remember which). As you do. As I was drifting, my face bathed in a slightly smug smile and somewhere between sleep and consciousness, I felt the familiar stir of The Beast Below. I say familiar, by which I don't mean that I am some sort of serial wanker or anything, but. You know. I live alone. And I don't have a TV.
You work it out.
So. I am laying there, innocently attempting to placate The Beast with gentle caresses, when I suddenly realised that He was stirring. Stirring in such a way that the only metaphor I can think of involves a soup cauldron of epic proportions - perhaps millions of gallons - being kept at a nice even temperature despite being warmed on a mighty dying star by the rythmic turning of a simply gigantic wooden spoon. That sort of stirring. Are we on the same page?
Good.
Anyway, It (The Mighty Beast) was getting, as far as I was concerned, entirely the wrong impression. It suddenly leapt, unbidden (er, kind of) to attention before I could quell its mighty urge, and burst forth from the window to assume its natural and magnificent tumescent form. Scattering clouds asunder in its youthful exuberance and joy at the wonders of procreation. Such a sight would surely have brought tears to the eyes of all the female population of Toronto, and possibly the rest of Ontario, I am quite sure. And probably some of those dirty shirt-lifter types, too, no doubt. Although I try not to think about that too much.
Annnnnnnnyway. To try and get back on the point of all this, it was while The Mighty Beast was passing the higher levels of the cloud cover that disaster struck. The cold wind of the jetstream did most unpleasant deeds to Him, and He started to falter and, perhaps, started to feel the distinctly unfamiliar edge of 'uncertainty'. In short, He lost momentum. He hesitated. He doubted Himself.
The result was inevitable. Buckling and fading in a way as to make women cry with anguish, as He had so often heard in the past, he continued to bend and fall. Through the cloud He tumbled, still smart in his pink roll neck sweater and with His one eye weeping (presumably due to the high winds at that altitude). Down, inevitably down, he fell. Birds (and a couple of rather flash executive jets and a Helicopter) scattered as he fell, with nearly all of His dignity stripped, neatly across the Amazon river. Surprisingly cold, it was, too. Gave me a bit of a start, it did.
It was at that point that I thought to myself:
"Blimey. You'd think it'd be some sort of stupid and fucking tediously predictable 'I met my next door neighbour on a kayaking holiday in Darkest Borneo while he was being cooked alive by cannibals' story to make you think that the world is small, but there's nothing like having your morning glory, your wee fella, your pink snake of the trouser persuasion, burst from your bed in Canada and fall on, and neatly span, the largest river in the world a continent away whilst merely semi-flaccid to make you think how tiny the world actually is, is there?"
Wow. Geographical awareness through cock-fall. Ain't life fucking marvellous?*
*All the more marvelous for now managing to get 'tumescent' and 'flaccid' into the same post. Awesome. I almost feel dirty.
What's the longest boat ride you've ever been on?
Back in 1997, I was working for a racing car manufacturer in England. A french racing team based at Le Mans (in France for the geographically challenged) had ordered a new car from us and wanted to build it themselves rather than have it turn up already built - a not uncommon request. So I was tasked with building up some of the sub assemblies and then taking them over to them (As they became available) so that they could build their car and get it ready for the racing season. I went backwards and forwards over the channel a few times (four I think) with a pickup belonging to the company owner full of the various components parts of a two hundred thousand pound (sterling, not weight) racing car and it got a little tiresome. There are a couple of different crossings to France from Blighty, one is the very popular, hour long, crossing at Dover to Calais, but that leaves you with a long drive through Paris (nice) and halfway across the country to Le Mans. One of the others is the mostly commercial Portsmouth-Caen that goes overnight and takes seven hours. This can, however, cut off about 7-10 hours driving, if not more. Obviously, more driving (over a longer period) means more chance of falling asleep and crashing the truck full of expensive (and sometimes unique) parts, so the decision was to take the longer night crossing after the first (hideously dull and long) drive the long way around.
Now, I am not so good with motion sickness. I have shitty sinuses (for which I blame this annoying aspect of my life) and so can't read in cars (for example) or get on rollercoasters without feeling sick for 40 minutes afterwards and I get seasick easily. Night crossings over the English Channel are usually rough - this is why they are scheduled to take 90 minutes longer than day crossings. So, to save myself nearly 8 hours driving, I was prepared to spend 7 hours on a boat that would make me ill. I made them pay the extra for the cabin (as it was sensible that I slept), but so that I could actually get to sleep in the tiny, sweaty and windowless cabin and so not feel sick for 7 hours, I had to employ the incredibly effective method detailed below to ensure oblivion to all motion:
1: Turn up EARLY. Early enough that you are one of the first on the boat (all will become clear).
2: Park and grab your pre-prepared bag.
3: Establish where Cabin is. Establish where the bar is in relation to this. Do this as fast as possible.
4: Drop bag in Cabin, do everything you can to reduce the temperature in the cabin (air con? Are you having a laugh? This is a commercial vehicle ferry. For truck drivers...) and hot-foot it to the bar.
5: Grab food and wolf it down, washing it down with two pints of beer.
6: Neck another pint or two fairly rapidly.
7: Swiftly make your way to the cabin (as near to running as maintains your composure).
8: You should complete part 7 before the effects of pints three and four hit you. This is important.
9: Throw yourself into the bed and sleep as quickly as possible.
10: Sleep through entire crossing until alarms go off to unload.
Good timing ensures that part 8 is completed about 5 minutes after part 9. Even better timing (and involving the adding of point 1) means that you can usually get to point 7 before the ferry has even got out into open (ie rough) water. This was utopia, and learned very rapidly. Then I was in lullaby land even before the boat started getting thrown around. Like it was the first time when I (foolishly) decided I didn't need a cabin and would sleep on a sofa (to save money). BY the end, it was like a well oiled programme, and I almost didn't get to feel any motion. I probably looked a tit rushing around the ferry as it was still starting to fill up, but no sleep all night plus massive nausea (I've never actually thrown up, just felt shite) makes the ensuing 6 hour drive or so pretty much intolerable. The first time, which was the worst, I drove through france at 5 in the morning on the wrong side of the road for about 20 minutes before I twigged that none of the signs were facing me. God, I felt awful.
Never again. Night crossings are rough. My tolerance to rough is hideously bad. I've had more fun, I can tell you.
What do you absolutely refuse to eat?
Cock. Next question?
When was the last time you interacted with any sort of wildlife?
Submitted by warpedreality.
It was cold, ok? And I was lonely.
It doesn't mean anything...
When was the last time you did something dangerous?
Submitted by Ross.
Blimey. Define 'dangerous'. I've done many things that others think of as dangerous, But they aren't necessarily the 'sticking your head in a Crocodile's mouth' kind of heroic/stupidity/bravery style of dangerous. More of the 'either not knowing or not caring about the consequences' style of dangerous. Usually the latter.
The job that I do (or more accurately, the jobs that I have performed in my industry) can be pretty fucking dangerous:
- Setting up 40x20foot awnings in gale force winds (I have seen a guy thrown 30 foot in the air and come down onto tarmac and break arms, ribs and fracture his skull before doing exactly that). I've nearly been blown off the top of the truck more times than I can remember. Any 20 foot fall is dangerous onto concrete...
- Doing pitstops in impossibly small pit lanes whilst not exactly basking in safety - changing tyres during a race on a car while trying to balance on one knee, sideways, with open wheel cars driving past about 12 inches behind me at over 60 mph on more than one occasion. If my legs had been straight behind me, they'd have been crushed. On one occasion in Italy, a car ran over the end of the air bottle that the guy on the rear wheel had (I was doing the front wheel), just missing him, and it knocked and partially crushed the regulator (valve thingy) at the top of the 20 Bar (280psi) 4 foot long pressurised bottle. Knowing that if it came the rest of the way off, it would do a fairly good impression of a land torpedo, I dropped my wheel gun and ran over and jumped bodily onto it (in front of one of the afore-mentioned cars, and in the fast lane of the pits) and turned the bottle off as fast as I could. Then running back, throwing the bottle into the garage and carrying on with the pit stop. I didn't bat an eye. It's just what you do; you get on with it and don't think about it.
At a pit stop in the US, during a very, very cramped pitlane qualifying session at a Champ Car race meeting where about 20 Formula Atlantic cars decided to pit all at once, I had just completed a stop on my car and was standing up from doing the outside two tyres and looked across to see the observing official from the series standing there watching me with her hand over her mouth, totally white, as she was convinced that I was going to get hit by at least one of the 4 cars that passed right behind me at speed during the 20 seconds or so I was doing the stop. 12 inches would have ben a luxury in terms of clearance that day, I can assure you. Even I thought that one was scary, and the Italian pit lane one just seemed funny at the time. I had overbalanced at one stage, and nearly stepped back into the path of one of the cars... Fortunately, I was way too busy and all maxxed out on adrenaline to shit myself.
-Self induced and riving related: Driving horrifically unsafe cars at stupid speeds that would have been unsafe in something that was worth more than about 20 quid.
I used to drive my Granada at over 110mph regularly with the second layer of wire sticking out one of the front tyres. Crazy, now I look back.
I was late from work one night in my Sierra XR4i and was rushing home (I was due to get laid) at 120mph (Well. That's what it said on the speedo, but it was a Ford, so it could have been anything...) down a country lane (just about two lanes wide) for 5 miles, only to slow for a junction and have the left rear tyre literally explode and blow itself to bits at 20 mph as I reached it. That cured me of considering remoulds as acceptable, I can tell you. Anyone tells you they're safe, you smack 'em in the mouth. Trust me.
Driving through South Carolina at night at 85mph, with the other team rental car driving into my back bumper repeatedly whenever I got to a corner. This was about 2 months ago. Good job I'm old, or I'd have brake-tested him. We'd probably have had to walk/limp back to the airport...
Whilst the car itself was not unsafe on its own, or by any means lacking, the speeds that I was driving my BMW down Cotswold country lanes before I left England were sometimes at twice the speed limit. And over. I was getting WAY too comfortable with that beast. And I don't just mean on the straights. I remember being disappointed that one of the corners on my favourite roads was too high for third gear (needed a mid-corner/exit change), but fourth made it understeer on entry. Third topped out at about 85mph or so. Through a corner.
God, there must be a hundred other examples that don't even stick in my mind because they were so common as to be almost normal. Especially driving examples. Hundreds, literally.It's a serious wonder that I haven't died in a fiery ball, to be honest. Several times over.
- Some may say that flying in a light aircraft over my own house when the plane was powered by an engine that I had built a few days before and installed myself was dangerous. I laugh in their faces. Although considering the amount of failures I saw with that engine at that stage of its development, I guess it was not exactly 100% risk free.
So there's loads of dangerous things. Loads. I've nearly rolled a van (whilst towing a $1,000,000 race car) in the past, but that was ages ago, so it probably doesn't count. I've had cars nearly fall off ramps onto my head. I've watched cars crash into steel barriers 30 feet from me, then burst into flames as another one hit it (I ran away). So it is either though a blase lack of awareness of danger, or because I just haven't done anything of note when compared to these examples that I can't think of anything recent.
So when did I last do something dangerous? I honestly don't know. It pretty much depends on your definition...
Who was your first celebrity crush?
Submitted by Glory.
Now that's possible.
I can't find a decent contemporary picture of her, so this one will do. She still, even at 52 pretty much has it. I even found a picture of her with Maria Sharapova. Now don't get me started on her. Gor blimey. Maria...
Lordy.
/fans self
