Personal Lolcows - Lolcows in your personal life.
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Right. I've been lurking here and reading some pretty hilarious stories (Little Biscuits, we need more from you!), and I think it's time to share my personal lolcow.
To protect her identity (but hellfire I would LOVE to name and shame), I will refer to her as Batty, as she is genuinely batshit insane. I live in a shared house with my partner, a really nice quiet guy who mostly keeps to himself, and Batty. I've lived here for almost two years now, and I've been trying my utmost to get the hell out of here with the mister for the last one, but finance always prevents us as we are only really just scraping by right now.
It's a long-ass story, so I'll bosh it in a spoiler -
So that's the ongoing story of Batty the faghag-boozegargling-pinksausageslotmachine-womanchild, or as much as I can stomach to write right now. All I can say from this cautionary tale is that, seriously, fuck Batty.
To protect her identity (but hellfire I would LOVE to name and shame), I will refer to her as Batty, as she is genuinely batshit insane. I live in a shared house with my partner, a really nice quiet guy who mostly keeps to himself, and Batty. I've lived here for almost two years now, and I've been trying my utmost to get the hell out of here with the mister for the last one, but finance always prevents us as we are only really just scraping by right now.
It's a long-ass story, so I'll bosh it in a spoiler -
Batty is a 31 year old woman with an alcohol problem and the mind of a child. The house we live in was once hers; she lived here with her fiance and his baby son (not hers), but he left her rather abruptly six years ago for reasons you will probably figure out on your own, hence the rented out rooms. Now Batty at the moment seems like a figure to pity, and at first I did...until things got out of hand.
Batty literally is a womanchild; how she's actually managed to reach 31 I have no clue. She's very petty and asinine, throwing literal tantrums complete with screaming, throwing stuff, slamming doors and tears when things don't go her way, and by things 'not going her way', I mean things as stupid as the dishwasher not being unloaded or her clothes not being dry in the morning after washing them. The times of day she has these tantrums seems to not matter to her as they range from midday to midnight, even the early hours of the morning.
This childishness is fortified by her genuine overriding stupidity; on more than one occasion we have caught Batty doing shit that you just can't make up. Three out of the four of us in the house smoke, so sometimes we get stray dogends on the doorstep and path. Usually we sweep them up or use a plastic bag to get them, but not our dear, stupid Batty ding-dongs. Nope. After hearing a strange noise in the garden, me and the mister take a peek out the open front door, following the confused snake of an electrical cable out into the open. Batty was hoovering the pavement. In the rain. Her granny skirts billowing about her pasty legs, Batty screeches out at us over the asthmatic hum of the vacuum cleaner, through a mess of drizzle, glasses and damp hair,
"Heeeeeey guuuuuuys, I'm just CLEANING THE FLOOOOOOOOOR!"
No shit.
About five minutes in the hoover let out a sickly chugging cough and died, killed to death by gravel, dirt and soggy fagends. We left her squawking confusedly over why the hoover had broken, her face the picture of confoundment.
Other famous moments from Batty include:
- Not realising that fabric softener alone does not wash clothes;
- She cleans EVERYTHING with neat bleach, and I mean everything, and wonders why the paint on the doors peels;
- Genuinely believing that keeping the doors and windows closed will make clothes dry faster;
- Botching various house repairs, including making various pipes around the house leak profusely;
- Spray painting a perfectly good Singer sewing machine white in a room with bright red leatherette sofas and not covering the furniture;
- Attempting to hack weeds out of the cracks in concrete with a garden hoe (CLONK, scrape, CLONK, scrape, CLONK);
Seriously, I could list those all day. But I won't, as the tale of Batty doesn't end there...
Batty, as we have mentioned before, has a serious alcohol problem. She is literally always on the sauce, to the point where we could build an extension with all the booze bottles we collect on a weekly basis. This was funny at first, but combined with her other behaviors, it's quickly gotten out of hand; we've even caught her red-handed stealing booze out of our supply when her's runs out and the shops are shut, and even telling us to go buy booze for her when she's too drunk to get more.
To make the above worse, she frequently crash-diets, living off those shitty one-milkshake-a-day diet plans in a pathetic attempt to lose weight. As she never gives up the booze during these diets, she literally becomes a walking clusterfuck for about a month, until she caves and starts eating takeaways every single night. She will literally order curry, Chinese or pizza every night, stinking out the bins as she never bags up her rubbish. As a result her body is a weird shape; flabby, blotchy, with big bulky legs and arms, but a narrower waist and mossie-bite tits. Strange looking creature.
Going on from this, we go on to the nastier of Batty's issues...she's a MASSIVE FUCKING WHORE. I type no word of a lie when I say that she will have a guy over at least five days a week for a booze-fuelled screechy sex session. Sometimes we recognise regulars, but often they're one-hit-wonders. The funniest bit is that she usually makes a big meal out of cleaning before her latest swinging dick comes over, cleaning the entire house in anticipation of the hideous bumping of the ugliest of uglies. She's genuinely convinced that if the house isn't spotless, she'll get no sex. This is brilliant as we love deliberately leaving out the odd stray piece of litter or cutlery item just before her gigolo gets here, just to see her flap around and whine and scream. The worst bit is the actual event itself. See, Batty has one of those screechy high-pitched voices that goes right through you, and hearing her coital rutting calls is bone-chilling to say the least. She'll do them anywhere; her room, the bathroom, the lounge, she doesn't care. We have, however found a counterattack for the bathroom squeaky hide-the-pink-loofah antics - our room is next to the bathroom, and we tend to counter the racket with a hearty, loud dose of either some decent metal (Finntroll works well, as does Septic Flesh) or The Wurzels.
I mentioned her voice, didn't I? Oh, she fancies herself a singer. She sings unbearably loudly to herself whenever she's in the house as if to say 'MY HOUSE, I'M HOME, FUCK YOU I'M THE FUCKING QUEEN HERE!'. The worst part is that it's always the same line of just one song at a time. Drives you fucking bonkers.
I also mentioned the bathroom. Well, Batty-boom-batty also loves baths. Long. FUCKING. BATHS. We only have the one bathroom between us, and we usually try to be as considerate as we can...all but her, of course. She has at least two baths a day, each hours long. This may seem minor, but when you're busting for a piss and all you can hear is shithead mcgee sloshing scented water around, watching Eastenders on her phone and singing 'Aaaaaand IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE-III-EEEEE-IIIII will ALways LEEEEEEEEEEEV YOOOOOOOOOO-UUU-OOOOOOOOOOO' over and over again, it gets real old real quick. Oh, and if you're in the bathroom when she needs to be in there, she'll scream outside the door and mash at the handle like a horror movie monster until you get out. Classy bitch we got here.
Jumping back to the sexytimes, as I have established she will attempt to mount anything with a pulse; guests, housemates, even my own brother. It's gotten so bad that we never have friends over anymore as she will barge in unannounced every single time and make a general nuisance of herself, pining for attention and wearing the lowest cut top she has that isn't soiled with her last conquest's panic sweat. If she knows we're having guests over, on occasion she'll 'plant' her bras around the house, only to saunter in and pick them up, dangling them in front of her target with an 'Oooooooops! Ohh mai god I'm sooooo silly! Tee hee!'. If they stay the night (if they're brave enough that is), she'll often 'stumble' into the room 'accidentally' in a pathetic attempt to get enough attention to gobble some new cock.
Amongst all of this, there are stranger moments of just outright weird behavior. She almost always walks around the house in a filthy white dressing gown, which is creepy enough, but couple that with the fact that she just sometimes sits on the stairs and moans like a retard, screams to herself in her room, and paces the house in the middle of the night crying, and you know that you really, really want to move the fuck out already.
Batty literally is a womanchild; how she's actually managed to reach 31 I have no clue. She's very petty and asinine, throwing literal tantrums complete with screaming, throwing stuff, slamming doors and tears when things don't go her way, and by things 'not going her way', I mean things as stupid as the dishwasher not being unloaded or her clothes not being dry in the morning after washing them. The times of day she has these tantrums seems to not matter to her as they range from midday to midnight, even the early hours of the morning.
This childishness is fortified by her genuine overriding stupidity; on more than one occasion we have caught Batty doing shit that you just can't make up. Three out of the four of us in the house smoke, so sometimes we get stray dogends on the doorstep and path. Usually we sweep them up or use a plastic bag to get them, but not our dear, stupid Batty ding-dongs. Nope. After hearing a strange noise in the garden, me and the mister take a peek out the open front door, following the confused snake of an electrical cable out into the open. Batty was hoovering the pavement. In the rain. Her granny skirts billowing about her pasty legs, Batty screeches out at us over the asthmatic hum of the vacuum cleaner, through a mess of drizzle, glasses and damp hair,
"Heeeeeey guuuuuuys, I'm just CLEANING THE FLOOOOOOOOOR!"
No shit.
About five minutes in the hoover let out a sickly chugging cough and died, killed to death by gravel, dirt and soggy fagends. We left her squawking confusedly over why the hoover had broken, her face the picture of confoundment.
Other famous moments from Batty include:
- Not realising that fabric softener alone does not wash clothes;
- She cleans EVERYTHING with neat bleach, and I mean everything, and wonders why the paint on the doors peels;
- Genuinely believing that keeping the doors and windows closed will make clothes dry faster;
- Botching various house repairs, including making various pipes around the house leak profusely;
- Spray painting a perfectly good Singer sewing machine white in a room with bright red leatherette sofas and not covering the furniture;
- Attempting to hack weeds out of the cracks in concrete with a garden hoe (CLONK, scrape, CLONK, scrape, CLONK);
Seriously, I could list those all day. But I won't, as the tale of Batty doesn't end there...
Batty, as we have mentioned before, has a serious alcohol problem. She is literally always on the sauce, to the point where we could build an extension with all the booze bottles we collect on a weekly basis. This was funny at first, but combined with her other behaviors, it's quickly gotten out of hand; we've even caught her red-handed stealing booze out of our supply when her's runs out and the shops are shut, and even telling us to go buy booze for her when she's too drunk to get more.
To make the above worse, she frequently crash-diets, living off those shitty one-milkshake-a-day diet plans in a pathetic attempt to lose weight. As she never gives up the booze during these diets, she literally becomes a walking clusterfuck for about a month, until she caves and starts eating takeaways every single night. She will literally order curry, Chinese or pizza every night, stinking out the bins as she never bags up her rubbish. As a result her body is a weird shape; flabby, blotchy, with big bulky legs and arms, but a narrower waist and mossie-bite tits. Strange looking creature.
Going on from this, we go on to the nastier of Batty's issues...she's a MASSIVE FUCKING WHORE. I type no word of a lie when I say that she will have a guy over at least five days a week for a booze-fuelled screechy sex session. Sometimes we recognise regulars, but often they're one-hit-wonders. The funniest bit is that she usually makes a big meal out of cleaning before her latest swinging dick comes over, cleaning the entire house in anticipation of the hideous bumping of the ugliest of uglies. She's genuinely convinced that if the house isn't spotless, she'll get no sex. This is brilliant as we love deliberately leaving out the odd stray piece of litter or cutlery item just before her gigolo gets here, just to see her flap around and whine and scream. The worst bit is the actual event itself. See, Batty has one of those screechy high-pitched voices that goes right through you, and hearing her coital rutting calls is bone-chilling to say the least. She'll do them anywhere; her room, the bathroom, the lounge, she doesn't care. We have, however found a counterattack for the bathroom squeaky hide-the-pink-loofah antics - our room is next to the bathroom, and we tend to counter the racket with a hearty, loud dose of either some decent metal (Finntroll works well, as does Septic Flesh) or The Wurzels.
I mentioned her voice, didn't I? Oh, she fancies herself a singer. She sings unbearably loudly to herself whenever she's in the house as if to say 'MY HOUSE, I'M HOME, FUCK YOU I'M THE FUCKING QUEEN HERE!'. The worst part is that it's always the same line of just one song at a time. Drives you fucking bonkers.
I also mentioned the bathroom. Well, Batty-boom-batty also loves baths. Long. FUCKING. BATHS. We only have the one bathroom between us, and we usually try to be as considerate as we can...all but her, of course. She has at least two baths a day, each hours long. This may seem minor, but when you're busting for a piss and all you can hear is shithead mcgee sloshing scented water around, watching Eastenders on her phone and singing 'Aaaaaand IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE-III-EEEEE-IIIII will ALways LEEEEEEEEEEEV YOOOOOOOOOO-UUU-OOOOOOOOOOO' over and over again, it gets real old real quick. Oh, and if you're in the bathroom when she needs to be in there, she'll scream outside the door and mash at the handle like a horror movie monster until you get out. Classy bitch we got here.
Jumping back to the sexytimes, as I have established she will attempt to mount anything with a pulse; guests, housemates, even my own brother. It's gotten so bad that we never have friends over anymore as she will barge in unannounced every single time and make a general nuisance of herself, pining for attention and wearing the lowest cut top she has that isn't soiled with her last conquest's panic sweat. If she knows we're having guests over, on occasion she'll 'plant' her bras around the house, only to saunter in and pick them up, dangling them in front of her target with an 'Oooooooops! Ohh mai god I'm sooooo silly! Tee hee!'. If they stay the night (if they're brave enough that is), she'll often 'stumble' into the room 'accidentally' in a pathetic attempt to get enough attention to gobble some new cock.
Amongst all of this, there are stranger moments of just outright weird behavior. She almost always walks around the house in a filthy white dressing gown, which is creepy enough, but couple that with the fact that she just sometimes sits on the stairs and moans like a retard, screams to herself in her room, and paces the house in the middle of the night crying, and you know that you really, really want to move the fuck out already.
So that's the ongoing story of Batty the faghag-boozegargling-pinksausageslotmachine-womanchild, or as much as I can stomach to write right now. All I can say from this cautionary tale is that, seriously, fuck Batty.
- Joined
- Oct 24, 2013
Null said:
Yeah that's the one thing I've never understood about people going after the kids to have these music videos of them, THEY'RE FUCKING KIDS! They don't know better yet, they thin, what they're doing is cool, why the FUCK do grown ass adults want to hurt these kids.
Buuuut there is another video made by a adult, and I swear I think she is just trolling here.
[youtube]XMgcHv-HGCY[/youtube]
José Mourinho
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kiwifarms.net
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- Feb 3, 2013
Did ARC Music Factory also make a song similar to "Friday"?
- Joined
- Oct 24, 2013
Alan Pardew said:
He made a fuckton, before closing out and vanishing from the public. Until...
[youtube]ZSBq8geuJk0[/youtube]
random_pickle
kiwifarms.net
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- Feb 21, 2013
Well, I give him props for not making any songs about love/sex.
José Mourinho
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tobacky_vapor said:
Yes, that's the song. Does ARC Music Factory really expect this song to be one of the best hits by just changing the lyrics of Friday a bit and call it a new song?
- Joined
- Oct 24, 2013
random_pickle said:
You mean like 95% of mainstreammusic?
Alan Pardew said:tobacky_vapor said:Alan Pardew said:
He made a fuckton, before closing out and vanishing from the public. Until...
Nicole Westbrook - It's Thanksgiving (Official Video)
Written and Produced by Patrice Wilson Now Out On Itunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/its-thanksgiving/id578277115?i=578277117&ign-mpt=uo%3D4 Directed ...www.youtube.com
Yes, that's the song. Does ARC Music Factory really expect this song to be one of the best hits by just changing the lyrics of Friday a bit and call it a new song?
probably not, but I will say he even if he wants the video to go viral, he's not smart enough to realize how bad it will backfire
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José Mourinho
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Null said:
I'm not sure if ARC music factory produced My Jeans...
- Joined
- Mar 17, 2013
Alan Pardew said:
Godammit. I could literally record the sounds of a Teddy Ruxpin being fed ino a blender and market it as a better song than that.
R
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I've got a personal pseudo-lolcow that is quite tricky, because it's somebody I care a lot about. I know somebody's going to try to say "why do you keep a person like that in your life?" or "that's not somebody I would want to be friends with."
Anyways, I have a friend who is convinced he's a failure, doesn't look for the positive in either himself or his life (even though he does have good traits and his life has good things in it) and is showing signs of being clinically depressed and suicidal. He does get involved in a little bit of drama, or he will freak out and think the world is out to get him over little things, hence why I'm posting about it here of all places, but I don't think he's beyond help.
I dunno. I'm white-knighting for my own personal lolcow, but I legitimately want to help him. I don't want to be his Anna. The problem is, as much as I don't want to enable him, I fear throwing his flaws in his face will just make it worse. He's already aware of them, he just doesn't know how to fix them. I don't want to give up on him either, because many times people can't make it out of these phases alone. He reaches out to me every time he contemplates killing himself.
I don't know what to do about it anymore. He's got potential to survive and live a happier life, but he just isn't getting it. He's already seen a professional and it didn't help. Does anybody else have experience with people like this?
Anyways, I have a friend who is convinced he's a failure, doesn't look for the positive in either himself or his life (even though he does have good traits and his life has good things in it) and is showing signs of being clinically depressed and suicidal. He does get involved in a little bit of drama, or he will freak out and think the world is out to get him over little things, hence why I'm posting about it here of all places, but I don't think he's beyond help.
I dunno. I'm white-knighting for my own personal lolcow, but I legitimately want to help him. I don't want to be his Anna. The problem is, as much as I don't want to enable him, I fear throwing his flaws in his face will just make it worse. He's already aware of them, he just doesn't know how to fix them. I don't want to give up on him either, because many times people can't make it out of these phases alone. He reaches out to me every time he contemplates killing himself.
I don't know what to do about it anymore. He's got potential to survive and live a happier life, but he just isn't getting it. He's already seen a professional and it didn't help. Does anybody else have experience with people like this?
- Joined
- Oct 9, 2013
Cyan said:
I've had to deal with this before. I had a buddy who's depression was turning him into a sad, strange wizardchan type. My friends and I went to his house and literally pulled him out of bed and made him go to the hospital. Like, physically put him in my car and drove him to the ER and told them he was going to kill himself. Depression is a dark place, man. Not everyone can make it out alone.
I know you said your friend saw a professional, but you know, not every Shrink is a good one. And a lot of times a person has to want to fight for themselves to get better. If they know they have friends looking out for them, it will help. Give them something to live for, you know.
Actions speak a lot louder than words in cases like this. Just telling your friend you don't want him to kill himself isn't nearly the same as actually showing that you're willing to help him. If he reaches out to you that might mean he does want to get better, and he's decided you are a person that can help him change. It's kind of a big burden to put on another person, I know, but then again, this is a life or death situation.
edited for typo!
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littlebiscuits said:
The problem is that he's on the other side of the country. I can't pull him into my car and force him to the hospital. I can only ask him to see professional help, and I can't force him to listen to me. Words are all I have.
- Joined
- Sep 6, 2013
Does the Ultimate Warrior count as a lolcow? I can't get enough of that guy.
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- Feb 3, 2013
Those guys who are obsessed with vacuum cleaners.
random_pickle
kiwifarms.net
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- Feb 21, 2013
sparklemilhouse said:
Please tell me that's in a non-sexual way.
into a running vacuum cleaner hose, only to have a moving part inside cut his duck off? (I think the story is on the Darwin Awards or Smoking Gun site)