Sad Tales of Tail


This video was emailed around my UK office yesterday and you could tell when someone watched it because of the audible gasp, even though we had all read the accompanying headline and knew what we were about to see.   That headline?  “Cat owners hunt for woman who put pet in wheelie bin.”  Here’s the video:

The mystery middle-aged white woman in Coventry (quickly identified as Mary Bale after the video appeared all over the web) was captured on a family’s security camera dropping their cat, Lola, into a garbage bin.  Walking by, Bale stops to pet the friendly kitty before looking around for witnesses, gripping the cat by its scruff, and dropping it into the garbage before walking away.  Darryl and Stephanie Andrews-Mann searched for the family pet for 15 hours before finding Lola, and were flummoxed as to how the accident occurred – until they reviewed the tapes from their home security camera, which they had installed two years ago after their car was repeatedly damaged by drivers-by.

Darryl, 26, said: “I’d like to know how she would feel if she was stuck in a bin for 15 hours without food or drink.

“It was really hot day outside. I searched nearby alleyways [for Lola] but suddenly heard a tiny meowing coming from the bin. I looked inside and I found her in the bin. She was terrified and covered in her own mess.”

Unsurprisingly, a large crowd was reported to gather outside Bale’s home and death threats were received as the video spread.  The Metro reports that Bale is under investigation by the RSPCA, and her mother was in the unenviable position of defending her daughter’s actions: (more…)

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I woke up this morning pretty well-rested, despite having stayed up late reading a book on internet relationships.  I was feeling a bit glum even just shifting into consciousness, though, as the knowledge I would have to go into work for a few hours on a Sunday was at the forefront of my mind.  Everything sucks, was probably my first articulated thought, which is really no way to start any day, much less a weekend day.  Negativity!  But there was something else, some vague feeling of discomfort and the sense that something was slightly off, something making me feel just a little bit nauseated as I summoned up the hazy recollection…  what…  Oh.  I had a disgusting celebrity sex dream.  Again

These don’t happen to me all the time.  In fact, if I had my druthers, I would have far more sex dreams, provided I could pick the subjects.  Sadly, that’s not the way my mind (and probably yours) works.  Most of my sex dreams tend to involve people from work (unavoidable, kind of awkward, sometimes quite hot).  Then there are the really traumatizing ones where family members or friends are somehow involved (after which one wishes to open one’s skull and apply bleach directly to the brain – these are in no way amusing and should never be discussed).

The best sex dreams, in my experience, involve either an object of affection, lust, or the occasional pleasant surprise, like when the UPS guy you hadn’t really paid much attention to makes an unexpected cameo and the next time you see him you blush and realize he actually does have great calves.  Often times sex itself isn’t even involved; one of the most intense dreams I ever had consisted of little more than me sitting on a deserted beach with the boy I was in love with, gazing straight into his green eyes and watching the waves crash behind them, in a little bit of a dream cinemascope in which we were simultaneously on the beach and yet I was the sand and he was the water.  It may not have been original, but I woke up with that same delicious, toe-curling warmth and tranquility that follows a particularly enjoyable sex dream, that feeling you try as hard as you can to prolong while your alarm blares beside you and you think, just a few more minutes here, please!  It’s just getting really good!  I also once had a three-dream arc with an actual dream lover, a blond Scandinavian guy in a black turtleneck happily conjured up by my subconscious.  I know the turleneck sounds lame, but he was kind of a beatnik character and trust, it was working. (more…)

Welcome back to our Friday feature on BCP, “The Best Sex I Never Had: Sad Tales of Tail,” in which we invite our readers to submit their most humiliating, pathetic, and just-plain-awful sexual experiences for public consumption. Seriously, email us! It’s like a group therapy session with 1,000 of your closest friends. You’ll feel so much better after you share. If you would like to contribute, see the rules for submission at the end of this post.

Losing your virginity is generally awkward and uncomfortable in the best of circumstances.  Today, The Mayor of Bethville bravely shares her own stab at deflowering, and finds herself in a situation in which “I’m sorry” just isn’t enough.  Another promising start quickly unravels, after the jump. (more…)

Welcome back to our Friday feature on BCP, “The Best Sex I Never Had: Sad Tales of Tail,” in which we invite our readers to submit their most humiliating, pathetic, and just-plain-awful sexual experiences for public consumption. Seriously, email us! It’s like a group therapy session with 1,000 of your closest friends. You’ll feel so much better after you share. If you would like to contribute, see the rules for submission at the end of this post.

Reader Genene has chosen to share two very special (see: terrible) sexual occasions with us, including a description of the running bedroom monologue proffered by her motivational speaker sex partner, as well as the disappointing details of an uninspired romp with a drowsy Italian.  The PTSD starts after the jump…

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Welcome back to our Friday feature on BCP, “The Best Sex I Never Had: Sad Tales of Tail,” in which we invite our readers to submit their most humiliating, pathetic, and just-plain-awful sexual experiences for public consumption. Seriously, email us! It’s like a group therapy session with 1,000 of your closest friends. You’ll feel so much better after you share. If you would like to contribute, see the rules for submission at the end of this post.

Scoregasm is smart and gorgeous, like so many women we know, love, and envy, and you wouldn’t look at her and imagine she has much familiarity with the variety of humiliating sex scenarios most of us have to suffer.  You wouldn’t for example, picture her as the unwitting victim of the panty-sniffing type of bloke, so you would be just as surprised as she was to find herself in such an unwelcome situation…

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Welcome back to our Friday feature on BCP, “The Best Sex I Never Had: Sad Tales of Tail,” in which we invite our readers to submit their most humiliating, pathetic, and just-plain-awful sexual experiences for public consumption. Seriously, email us! It’s like a group therapy session with 1,000 of your closest friends. You’ll feel so much better after you share. If you would like to contribute, see the rules for submission at the end of this post.

Second-time contributor DottyZ has a story that I think many of us can relate to.  Innocently engaged in some old-fashioned sofa sex, she was shocked when her trusted partner pulled the bait-‘n-switch, a move guaranteed to produce disastrous results.  Details of the crime, after the jump.

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Welcome back to our Friday feature on BCP, “The Best Sex I Never Had: Sad Tales of Tail,” in which we invite our readers to submit their most humiliating, pathetic, and just-plain-awful sexual experiences for public consumption. Seriously, email us! It’s like a group therapy session with 1,000 of your closest friends. You’ll feel so much better after you share. If you would like to contribute, see the rules for submission at the end of this post.

Our story today is a sad one indeed. London­_Calling is a charming girl with an intellect that has taken her far in life, but at one point she was a 19-year-old virgin with the determination to change her circumstance and a tragic dearth of resources. Her willfulness led her to Trotter, an ignorant fellow with no idea how to treat a lady of any caliber and the sorry belief that sex on a waterbed is in any way acceptable.

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