Tag: embarrassing

1997… I was 14 at the time. Fourteen, impressionable and, as it would turn out, easily aroused. I still remember it as if it was only yesterday: we went to see Austin Powers in the cinema. Now, that would’ve been awesome enough — I was 14, watching a ’15′ rated film! — but to top it off, I had a girl with me. Yeah! Somehow… somehow I had managed to get a girl to go with me to the cinema…

[Thursday. Too much information. But really, this one's very easy going. The more active your imagination, the better this one will be. Hit up Lilu's blog for more embarrassing tales!] You probably don’t know this but… I wear glasses. But due to a firm belief that I look a lot more photogenic without glasses, I always remove them for photos. In fact, the only photo that features me in glasses (other than the obviously-posed Ask Me Anything knitting photo!) is…

[Continuing in the vein of games-related posts, today I'm going to tell you a dark, embarrassing story from my teenage years. For more stories of a similar ilk, check out Lilu's blog.] I haven’t always wielded eight and a half inches of steam-piston, woman-slaying man meat. I was actually a very late bloomer. Which is a little odd, considering how early my fuzzy moustache came through and how rapidly my voice broke at the age of thirteen. But I didn’t…

First there was the pirate special. And then… the animal cosplay special. But now, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Alien Special. All 25 seconds of it. [youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JLKvXUHMVEw[/youtube] (If you can’t see the video, you’ll need to view it on my blog!) Yup. My whole life was a build-up to those 25 seconds of fame. A six-month training regime. Three months of method acting. Private tuition with Andy Serkis. You saw the still photo, but as it turned out……

As I write this I’m tired. I’m just back from a family meet-up in London. I didn’t have enough sleep or coffee for the barrage of intimate and deeply-probing questions that septuagenarian Jewish females pitched at me over a four-hour period. Not only is it the number of questions but the ferocity and varied intensity at which they are delivered. Think of them like baseball pitches: high, low; fast, slow; straight and curved — you need to be able to…

For those of you that read this blog on a regular basis you’ll know that my mother likes to comment. In fact, reading my blog is part of her ‘breakfast routine’ — she can often be found with a cup of tea and pastry in-hand as she reads my blog in the morning, her face displaying a terrible, nervous grin as she discovers yet another disgusting fact about her ‘beautiful, first-born son Sebastian’ (that’s how she introduces me to friends)…