Saturday, December 29, 2007

Umm...I Don't Know Why Those Are There

During college I had a small apartment with a buddy and my ex-girlfriend pretty much lived there too.  Sexually speaking, things got a little crazy at times with the ex and I, and I’m the type of person that the average person would think I was the perfect child.  Went to Catholic high school, always played by the rules, never did anything wrong, and was pretty conservative.  Those people were dead wrong.

I was moving out of my apartment one summer and my dad was helping me move.  We got all the little shit out of there, so all that was left were a few bigger items like my desk, dresser, and bed.  My ex was there helping with the move too, and we started to take the bed out to the truck.  The ex and I took the mattress and headed out the door, passing my dad who was on his way back in.  When we got back inside, my dad had picked up the box spring and was standing in my room scratching his head.  I asked what he was doing and he said he was trying to figure out what the hell “those things” were on the bed.  Apparently the ex and I had left some leather straps tied to the bed that we forgot about, and like a bad dream, my father was standing there looking at them.  Nothing I could do at that point other than play dumb.  “I don’t know what those are, maybe something from the original packaging?”  My father just shook his head and walked out of the room, leaving my ex and I looking at each other, red with embarrassment.

Slipping One Past the Goalie

Ask any guy if they’ve ever “slipped one past the goalie” (got a girl pregnant) and the majority say yes. It happens, and when it does, your world comes to an abrupt stop. I’ve had my share of scares over the years, and luckily for me they’ve turned out for the best.

I used to work at a restaurant in New England years ago, and the manager always joked with me because I nailed half the waitresses. I was the man-whore of the staff, and even though the waitresses all knew about each other, they could have cared less. Most of them were pretty hot, but there was one line that I never should have crossed - her name was Liz.

Liz was a fat-ass redhead who constantly threw out sexual innuendos. I found her disgusting but one night at the company Christmas party she took advantage of me. We went back to my place and I gave her the goods.  The next morning we emerged from my bedroom and my roommate couldn’t believe his eyes.  After all, this was in the early days of my fat chick escapades.  Liz and I got together a few more times when I would get drunk and make the last-ditch booty call after exhausting the rest of the list.

A few weeks after our last time together she pulled me aside and told me she was pregnant.  The girl was a compulsive liar (she used to tell customers that she had kids already) but this wasn’t something to take lightly so I was a little freaked out.  We discussed options (abortion, adoption, etc.) and for a while she played it up like she was having “the baby”.  She was getting a little too much enjoyment out of the whole thing, so I began to think something wasn’t right.  We pretty much stopped talking for a while until she called me one day and said she changed her mind…she wanted to get an abortion.  I offered to bring her to the doctor and she refused.  After she supposedly had this abortion she called me and gave me a graphic description of what took place, and I knew for sure at that point she was lying.  She said she wanted me to pay her for the abortion and I said I’d pay for half of it.  She showed up at my apartment to collect a couple hundred bucks and I said I wasn’t giving her shit without any paperwork, receipt, or discharge papers.  She called me an asshole, left for an hour, and came back with a piece of paper that was clearly done by her on a typewriter.  I ripped it up and kicked her out of my place.  As if it’s not bad enough to fuck with someone and make them think they’ve got a kid on the way with a woman they hate, but then to try and swindle them out of a couple hundred bucks?  I vowed revenge.

A few years later I ran into this whore when she came into a bar/restaurant I worked at.  I pulled the bartender into the kitchen where I worked and told her the story.  The bartender said Liz was drinking rum and Cokes while running her mouth that she’s pregnant.  I couldn’t believe it.  I told the bartender that I had a special rum and Coke for her on her next trip into the kitchen.  I pissed a little into a pint glass and threw a little Coke in it to give it a more appropriate color.  The bartender brought it out to the bar and placed it under the counter until Liz ordered another drink, and once she did…well let’s just say the bartender poured her a stiff one.

About 45 minutes later the bartender came back in the kitchen and said she had a treat for me.  She handed me a dinner order slip and said “the steak on the top here is for your friend”.  I cooked up the best steak I’ve ever grilled.  Put it on the plate, snorted as much snot as I could, cleared my throat, and then dropped the nastiest wad of spit on top of her steak.  A little sauteed mushroom on top and BAM…here’s your dinner bitch.  She ate the whole thing like a fat chick knows how to do.

Friday, December 14, 2007

What's Up with Chicks in NYC? DatePaula.com? No Thanks.

I’ve recently stumbled across a couple of blogs I enjoy reading. It seems the authors of No Sex and the City and NYC Won’t Let Me Sleep have had it with the women in NYC. I dated one chick during college who grew up in Manhattan, but that’s the extent of my NYC girl experience. I’ve always heard stories of how girls in New York City are so stuck up, but I always chalked it up as “typical” of any city. I must say, I saw some anecdotal evidence to the contrary today.

I work from home, and I’ll usually turn the TV on during lunch to catch up on the local news. I got a few calls today after lunch and got distracted so I never turned the TV off. During the afternoon the Montel show came on and it was an episode about dating. They had a segment on speed dating where couples meet for 4 minutes and determine if they want to pursue the other individual. The question to this chick Paula from NYC was if she could really determine within 4 minutes if she wanted to pursue the guy or not. I’ll tell you what, she could have done it in 30 seconds by asking 3 questions:

1. How much money do you make

2. How much of that will go to me

3. How long can you put up with my fucking diva attitude

She sat there, arms and legs crossed, and as one guy put it, “not a very good conversationalist”. No shit buddy, because she could tell you wouldn’t spoil her like daddy does.

This chick plugged her own website because she was trying to find a date to her friends wedding in Greece. Apparently she tried every medium to find a “good” guy but wasn’t able to, so she had her own website put up, datepaula.com. Of course I had to check it out, and it was disabled, so I did a little more searching on the web. What I did find was a 15-minute video that this uppity bitch made to chronicle her trip to Greece and her stag wedding attendance. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so check out the video here. I would love to see a follow up video in 20 years when this chick is living alone, chain smoking Pall Malls in a trailer with 17 cats and bitching about how Mr. Right must be out there somewhere.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

A Good Reason to NEVER Forget the Sniff Test

Quick story about this chick I hooked up with a couple years ago.  After my buddy Captain Chaos introduced the two of us, I unfortunately hooked up with her on a few occasions, usually after drinking about a case of beer, because I really needed it with this chick.  Not only was she ugly as hell, but her voice was so annoying it was like Fran Drescher with a sinus infection.  She was the type of girl you have to get in there, get some, and get the hell out as quickly as possible.

One night I was hanging with the Captain, and decided to wander across the street to this girls place.  I banged on her door at about 2am until she answered in her nightie with no panties, she let me in, and then I followed her into her bedroom.  She stopped by the foot of her bed and started to say something, but I just gave her a gentle push onto the bed.  Her legs were hanging off the bed and in the heat of the moment I dove my face right in.  After about half a second and half a lick I thought I was going to vomit.  This was the worst smell I have ever smelled.  I stood up, said “that’s all folks” and walked out the door, back to Captain Chaos’ place.

He asked me what the hell happened and I told him I forgot to do the sniff test.  When he asked me how bad the smell was, I just replied “have you ever smelled lindberger cheese?” and then puked on his lawn.

On that day I made a vow: No matter how drunk I am, no matter what a girl looks like, I WILL NEVER, EVER, GO DOWN ON ANOTHER GIRL WITHOUT PERFORMING THE SNIFF TEST FIRST.

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Dodging Bullets with STD's

I’ve been fairly lucky over the years when it comes to not contracting any sexually transmitted diseases.  I’ve been with a few girls that have contracted STD’s after I’ve been with them.

Girl #1: This chick used to work for me and we ended up sleeping together one night.  One time deal, nothing ongoing, although not for lack of effort.  My buddy hooked up with her on a couple of occasions after I did, and ended up getting gonorrhea from her.

Girl #2: I actually liked this chick and thought about dating her until I realized how much she slept around.  She ended up sleeping with one of my friends and he said she bit his nipple so hard that he thought she tore it off.  I found out shortly after that she had chlamydia.

Girl #3: I dated this chick for a couple of years.  Until a few months ago we still hooked up on occasion.  She finally got over me and decided to “move on with her life”.  After the last time we slept togethe, she slept with some other guy and he gave her the gift that keeps on giving - herpes. Now she’s using a dating website for people with herpes.

Like most guys my age, I haven’t always been smart when it comes to safe sex.  I’ve definitely been in the “at-risk” category at times, especially with the number of hookers I’ve had sex with.  The Red Cross won’t even let me be a blood donor unless I abstain from prostitutes for a while.  Good luck on that!

Breaking in the Parent's Bed

I celebrated Christmas last year with my family in New York. I wanted to get together with my ex-girlfriend since I don’t see her that much these days, so I took a trip to my hometown for one night.

I ended up going out to the bars with a couple of friends and had a few drinks. I called the ex around 1am when I left the bars and she gave me directions to her mother’s house which was in the middle of nowhere. Her directions were something like “just go down this road and about 5 miles down you’ll see a driveway with a telephone pole next to it”. That really narrowed it down for me. Her cell phone wasn’t working right so I was on my own to find this place. After driving back and forth for about a half hour I had to take a leak, so I pulled into a bank parking lot down the road. This bank was in the middle of nowhere as well, so I just pissed in the middle of the lot without worrying about anyone seeing me.

Just as I zipped up a truck pulled into the lot behind my car and I saw a badge. “Oh shit, was this really happening?” I wondered as I was trying to figure out how I was going to avoid a DUI. The cop was about 75 years old so I thought about just running, but since I had my brother’s car I knew that wasn’t an option. The cop started asking me what I was doing, where I was going, why I was there with out of state tags, etc. I told him I was trying to get to a friend’s house and he asked who, so I told him. He took my license and went back to his truck.

After about 10 minutes he came back out of his truck and handed me my license back. Turns out he knew the girls mother so he gave me directions on where the driveway was located. I drove there and my ex was waiting outside for me. She jumped in my car and said we couldn’t stay at her house because the cops called her mom’s phone and she was pissed. My parents were still in NY so I brought her to their house which we would have to ourselves.

She was drinking some sort of bottled cosmopolitan, and when we got to the house she threw it in the trash. We headed upstairs and got down and dirty in my parents bed. I brought her back the next morning and headed back to NY for Christmas.

After the holiday when I was back home in VA my mom called me. She had just got home herself and asked me “who drinks cosmopolitans?” I wasn’t thinking and just blurted out my ex’s name. OK, so now she knew we were in the house. Big deal, right? Normally no, but my mom’s next statement was pretty embarrassing. “Oh, that explains why my bed was a mess when I got home”. Holy shit, what the hell can you say to something like that?

Take a Picture, It'll Last Longer

When I was in college I dated this one chick for a couple of years. We went out drinking one night with a buddy, and he crashed at my house. My ex and I got a little freaky at times, and one night my buddy came into my room while the ex and I were going at it. Neither one of us cared, so I kept on pounding away at her while my buddy watched. We carried on a normal conversation just as if the three of us were sitting at the dinner table or something. My buddy eventually grabbed a camera that was on my desk and started snapping a few photos of us.

A few weeks later after the photos had been developed I had to hide them from my ex because she wanted them destroyed. She would have found them anywhere in my house so I decided to hide them in my room at my parent’s house. Word to the wise: don’t ever hide anything at your parent’s house if you don’t want it to be found. My mom was cleaning about a month later and found the pictures. Turns out I didn’t have to worry about the ex destroying them, because my mom took care of that for her.

Shit Out of Luck

A friend and I went up to Montreal one weekend.  We were out at the strip clubs and were on our way from one club to another when my friend realized he needed to take a shit really bad.  We were right in front of a peep show so we went in to see if they had a bathroom.  The owner pointed my friend toward a back hallway where the bathroom was located, so I hung out and watched pornos for about 10 minutes.  Finally I realized my buddy hadn’t come back out yet, so I went to investigate.

The bathroom was toward the end of this long, winding hallway that clearly wasn’t meant for public use.  I entered the bathroom and my buddy said “thank God you’re here…are there any paper towels out there?”  I looked under the sink, and there weren’t any that I could find.  I told him there weren’t any and they used one of those warm air hand dryers.  He told me to check the ladies room for toilet paper so I did.  They were out in the ladies room as well, so when I entered the men’s room again he asked “any luck?”  I hit the button for the hand dryer and said “does that answer your question?”  At this point he didn’t know what to do but it didn’t take him too long to figure out a plan.   I heard him rustling around in the stall and asked what he was doing.  He was taking off his underwear, tighty whities, and then wiped his ass with them.  I couldn’t stop laughing at the idea, and then I heard the toilet flush.  Brown water started pouring onto the floor, my buddy came running out of the stall, and we got the hell out of there before the owner saw the mess.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

An Expensive New Couch

Before I bought my own bar I used to hang out there about 4 days a week.  It was conveniently right up the street from where I worked at the time, so a few coworkers and I would frequently go for happy hour before heading home.

One night Captain Chaos and I hung out a little longer than we should have, and I was driving a Ford Explorer that day.  I’m not sure what it is, but when I get a few drinks in me, I turn into an idiot.  This night was no exception.  I went outside to take a phone call on my cell, and on my way out I noticed a nice new couch in the alcove by the front door.  I was sizing it up in my mind, and when I got outside I took a look at the Explorer.  “I’ll bet it would fit in there” I said to myself.  When I was done with my call I hung up the phone, got into the Explorer, and backed it up to the front door of the bar.

I went back inside and told Captain Chaos about the genius plan I just hatched.  He was game.  We cashed out our tabs, said goodbye to the bartender, and headed out the door.  We took one last peek around the corner to make sure nobody was coming out, and then within 10 seconds flat we had picked up the couch, rammed it into the back of the Explorer, and took off with it.  We were laughing the whole way home.  I put it in my living room and got years of enjoyment out of it.

About 3 months after taking the couch I left my job and decided to buy into the bar with one of the former owners.   Captain Chaos heard the news and called me up to congratulate me.  All of a sudden he burst out laughing and said “I just thought of something funny.  The couch has finally come into possession of its rightful owner”.  True indeed, it had.  I sank about $100,000 into buying that bar, and at the end of it all I walked away with nothing.  Nothing but a couch that is, making it more expensive than any couch you’ll ever see on MTV Cribs.  Too bad I could have got it for $100 at a garage sale instead.

Keep It In Your Pants, or Keep It In the Family

I dated a chick a while back that lived in a small town which I’ll refer to as “Smalltown”. It was never anything serious in my eyes, but she thought otherwise. She used to show up at my house occasionally with her 2 year old son and that was just a little too much baggage for me.

Fast forward a couple of years. I started dating this other chick in my own town, and the relationship went on for a couple of years. One day we were talking about people we’ve dated, and somehow the subject came up about people in Smalltown. She asked if I’ve ever dated anyone in Smalltown and I said yes. She knew a few people in Smalltown so of course she wanted to know the girls name. I gave her the first name only and she said “Oh my God”. I thought to myself “yeah right” like she really knew who I was talking about. She said “was her last name XXX?” and at that point my jaw dropped. “Oh shit, she knows one of my ex’s” I thought. She started to get into a lot of detail about this other chick and was starting to freak me out until she dropped the bomb on me. “That’s my fucking cousin”. Talk about a small world.

Monday, December 3, 2007

Here You Go, Big Shot

When I used to own my bar, Sundays were the day I pretty much always took off, but I’d hang out at the bar anyway and watch football.  My ex-girlfriend and I had been there the night before and she spent the night at my house.  I convinced her to hang out with me this one particular Sunday, and since she didn’t have any of her own clean clothes she asked to borrow my favorite T-shirt.  It was an A-Team shirt that she hated, but literally the only clean shirt I had that day.

One of my friends met us up there, and we were pretty drunk by later in the afternoon. When you get the two of us together with a little alcohol, we can be pretty annoying.  We were annoying my ex to no end, but she hung in there with us.  A little later in the day we were hanging out with one of my regular customers, an off-duty police officer.  A girl I knew came up to me and asked if I wanted to smoke a little weed.  I rarely partake, but occasionally when I’m drunk I’ll smoke, and that’s what happened on this Sunday.  I told the cop I’d be back in a few.

Me, my friend I was there with, and the girl I knew headed out the door and around the corner of the building.  We smoked a little, and I couldn’t stop coughing.  I kept coughing and coughing, and finally I coughed so hard I started throwing up.  My buddy was laughing hysterically which pissed me off so I started trying to puke on him.  He started running around the corner and back toward the entrance to the bar, and I kept pace with him the whole way, probably 100 yards.  About every 5 strides I’d heave a little more, and by the time we got to the front entrance some people were walking in and saw us, questioning if this was the type of bar they wanted to hang out in.

We regained our composure and headed back to our seats, trying not to alert the cop to what we had been doing.  He must have known, but at least he didn’t say anything.  I purposely didn’t talk much to him after that, and my buddy and I were annoying my ex even more.  She finally got so pissed off that she yelled at me in front of the whole bar and left.  We were just laughing because she was so pissed over some small bullshit, and then she walked back through the door.  This time she had my A-Team shirt in her hand, and she threw it as hard as she could at my head.  While she threw it she said “here you go, big shot”.  I immediately started singing the Billy Joel song “Big Shot” which made her even angrier.  She left for good, and we stayed for a few more hours drinking.

The ex and I had a little heart to heart the next day, and I told her to never disrespect the A-Team shirt again.  She still calls me “big shot” from time to time, and hates the A-Team shirt more than ever.

One of My Least Proud Moments

I went to Baltimore a few years ago with my brother and a few friends.  One of my friends lived in the area so we thought we’d visit him one weekend.  We went to an Orioles game (translation: we went somewhere to pay $6 a beer and there happened to be a game going on), and then we hit the bars in the Inner Harbor after that.  It was a long day of drinking, and we were all wasted except for our friend who was driving.  When we left the bars at the end of the night and were walking back to our car, some guy named James approached us and asked us if we needed anything.  He was sketchy as hell, trying to push some crack on us or something.  At this point in my life I had a little problem with hookers/escorts, so I asked him where I could find one.  James said he had a couple of girls but we had to bring him somewhere to get them.  Probably one of the dumber things I’ve done in my life, but we let him in the car.

This dude brought us to a real shady part of town.  I’m talking kids on the street at 3am, gunshots in the distance, the whole nine.  He had us stop by this apartment and got out of the car.  He said “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere”.  A couple minutes later he returned with this fat chick who looked like James had just dragged her out of bed.  She looked at me and said “you got me out the crib for a white boy?”  I said “I got money, what are you worried about” and she took me around the corner.

We walked about a block down the street and onto a side street.  My brother was driving his SUV with the other guys in it.  My brother had his pistol, my one friend had a machete, and another friend had a can of mace.  They all made sure James didn’t go anywhere or try anything funny.  The nasty hooker brought me right up to this run-down house that couldn’t have been any more than 400 square feet.  All the windows were boarded up, there was no door, and there was shit all over the floor.  It was obviously some sort of crack house because there were a few mattresses on the floor and broken glass everywhere.  I told her I wasn’t going any further because it was starting to get a little scary.  I leaned up against the wall outside the entrance to this place and handed the girl a $20 for a blow job.  Since a few of my friends were keeping tabs on James, one other friend was standing about 10 feet in front of me to make sure nothing happened to me.  He had his back to me and was laughing at the slurping sounds coming from the hooker.

After a few minutes of this, the girl said “you like pussy, boy?” to which I responded “that’s why I’m here”.  “I’ll let ya hit it for another $20″ she said.  What the hell, I’m a big spender, so I threw her another $20.   She dropped her pants and bent over, then leaned up against the same wall I was a second before.  As soon as she leaned over I heard a sound come from below like she farted, and then I smelled the nastiest funk I have ever smelled.  It smelled like someone had stored a few pounds of meat in a locked car in the middle of the desert for a month.  Absolutely disgusting.  There was no way I was nailing this nasty bitch now, so I said “keep the change”, grabbed my buddy who was standing guard, and we ran back to the car.  We jumped in the car and got the hell out of there before anyone decided to shoot at us.  If you’re ever in Baltimore and run into a guy named James who promises a hot hooker, run the other way!

A Bad Game of Strip Poker

Many years ago I used to work at a restaurant/bar in a small town. The owner of the place, my boss, was a hard-ass and had a short temper. He was the kind of guy you didn’t want to mess with. Of course I had to try my luck. He hired his niece for one summer, and gave me specific instructions not to hit on her. She was only 18 at the time, and she was smokin’ hot. Tall, brunette, great body, and a little bit of an air-head. I liked my odds on this one.

I was house-sitting one week for my friends parents who lived right around the corner from the place I worked at. I figured this would be a great opportunity to get this girl alone and put the moves on. The night she was going to come over, my friend showed up after work and I enlisted his help. The plan was to have him come over to the house as well, and we’d get a game of strip poker going. This girl said she had no idea how to play poker, so we would just cheat and make sure she got naked.

The first few games my friend and I had pretty good hands, but nothing crazy because we didn’t want to make it obvious we were cheating. She ended up in her bra and panties pretty quick. From that point forward it went downhill fast.

My friend and I continued to cheat, but this girl was pulling amazing cards with each hand. We’d end up with 3 of a kind by cheating, she’d get a flush. We’d get a flush, she’d get a full house. We’d get a full house, she’d get a straight flush. After losing several hands in a row, I finally said “If I lose again this is my last hand”. Sure enough, I lost again. So here I was, losing a bunch of hands at strip poker, my buddy sitting next to me completely naked, and now I’m forced to remove my last stitch of clothing as well. As soon as she got her satisfaction of beating us, she promptly stood up and said “see ya later”. She walked out of the house. I looked over at my buddy, realizing now there were just two guys sitting on a couch, butt naked, and no women in the house, and I said “put your fucking clothes on”.

To this day I still think she was cheating us and we didn’t know it.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

The Ugliest Girl in the World

One of my friends came to visit a few years back.  He needed to be entertained for a couple of days, so we hit up a bar one night.  After a few drinks we started talking about who I could call that would sleep with him.  Didn't take long to figure it out.

We made the 20-minute drive to this chick's house where her mom, sister, and 10-year-old son were all sleeping.  Talk about a little awkward.  I mean, does her mom know she does this kind of thing - has a couple guys over in the wee hours of the night?  She answered the door and led us into the back of the house where her room was.  At this point my buddy leans over and tells me that this girl is the ugliest girl he's ever seen.  That means a lot coming from him, because until that night I thought he had standards as low as mine.

So we get into her room and I decide I'm no longer hooking him up with the girl.  She kicks him out of her room and strips down.  I've been with bigger girls, but this one just doesn't wear her weight well at all.  Her face looks like a clown, and when I saw she had a big zit on her ass, I had to get back up, grab my friend from the next room, and get outta there.  Haven't been back since.

Big Boys Do It Too

A few years ago my buddy and I took a trip to Charlotte, NC for a weekend. I went out the night before for happy hour which lasted until 2am. That made getting up at 6am tough, but I did it. It was about a 5-hour drive from where I was living at the time. I was starting to crave the hangover foods we all love (anything with grease) so I made my buddy stop at Bojangles. Biscuits and sausage gravy never tasted so good. About an hour later we were in the boondocks of North Carolina and my stomach was rumbling a little. I figured I'd let a little squeaker out and that would ease the pressure on my intestinal walls. I lifted my left cheek to aim it at my travel partner and then all of a sudden, about 3 ounces of liquid shot out of my ass before I could use my body's "emergency shutoff". I yelled "SHIT" and lifted my ass about 3 inches off the seat so I wouldn't soil his cloth interior. My buddy asked what was wrong and I just told him to get off the next exit coming up. He got off and there were actually houses all over the place, so he drove around for a few more minutes until we saw a convenience store.

At this point I was laughing hysterically and waddled into the front of the store. Some Indian guy was behind the counter and I asked if he had a bathroom. "No, no bathroom for public". I said "I really need one bad", trying not to tell him what happened while my friend was practically rolling on the floor in one of the aisles. The guy just kept saying no, so I said "look, I had an accident". "What you mean accident" he asked. I was still clinching my cheeks like there was no tomorrow because I was about to drop another biscuit out of my ass, so finally I said "look buddy, I shit my pants and there's more where that came from, so let me in your bathroom". He pointed to a little door in the corner and I shuffled over there.

I must have been in that bathroom for 20 minutes, because the Indian guy knocked and asked if I was still in there. My stomach was angry at me that day. I went through an entire roll of toilet paper and clogged the guy's toilet. No plunger? Not my problem. I kicked off my shorts and boxers and put some new ones on that I grabbed out of the trunk on my way in. When I finally made it out of that bathroom I wanted to run for the car and hop in like Bo Duke. The store owner stopped me and asked "is anything in there?" I was still laughing but managed to get out a "nope" and hit the door. We took off down the road and to this day still talk about what that guy's face must have looked like when he went into the bathroom and saw a dirty pair of boxers and an overflowing toilet.

About a mile down the road my buddy had the best line that I'll always remember: "It's OK Jake, big boys do it too".

Karma is a Bitch

Try to follow this one.  It's a real-life soap opera, and the end result is great as far as I'm concerned.

I was with my ex girlfriend for a few years during college.  We broke it off because she decided she wanted to cheat on me with her ex boyfriend.  Her ex was with another girl at the time, so she actually stole him away from her.  Needless to say, on my side of things I was pretty hurt and we didn't speak for several years.

I moved to Virginia and after a few years we got back in touch somehow.  I invited her down for a week to hang out and see if we could remain friends after all we had been through.  At the time I was living with my (female) cousin who had never met the ex.  I was a little worried about how they would get along because they're very different personalities, or so I thought.  They actually hit it off very well, talking about angels, holistic healing, Oprah, and a bunch of other bullshit I could care less about.  When the ex left at the end of the week they exchanged numbers and email addresses.

A few months later my cousin went to visit my ex, who lived with a boyfriend of several years.  I thought that was a little strange since they had only met once before.  As time went on, the trips to visit her became more frequent, and I thought "great, I guess they turned out to be good friends".

One day my ex called me and was terribly upset.  (Here's where the story gets a little crazy, and if you ask me, funny).  My cousin's trips to visit my ex (and my ex's boyfriend) had often resulted in threesomes.  My ex, her boyfriend, and my cousin.  It really disgusted me.  Well it turned out that my ex's boyfriend had grown interested in my cousin instead of my ex.  He broke it off with my ex and now my ex and my cousin hated each other.  And you're calling to cry to me about this because why?

I couldn't help but laugh my ass off and tell my ex that karma is a bitch.  She stole someone else's boyfriend years earlier and ruined our relationship, and now she wants me to feel sorry that it's happened to her?  I don't think so.  Now that's what I call justice.

What's Wrong with Your Arm?

One of my friends threw an outdoor 4th of July party this past summer. He had kegs, a band, a bunch of guys and very few women. Quite the "sausage fest". I brought a girl I was living with at the time, so I knew I was getting laid no matter what. The guy that threw the party lived in an apartment with one neighbor who lived below him. The party-goers started drinking around noon, and around 8:00 his neighbor came home. The neighbor seemed a little weird when I first met her, and she seemed to be a little annoyed at all the people in her back yard. She was 52 years old and about 250 pounds. As it got later and the volume got louder, I bumped into the neighbor on my way into the house and figured I should be extra nice to her. I didn't want her calling the cops to shut the party down, so a little pre-emptive small talk ought to do the trick.

She ended up bringing me into her apartment to show me around. After a while we ended up in her bed and she was giving me a blow job. Something didn't quite seem right. She kept trying to re-position herself and it sounded like she was doing sit-ups or something. Whatever she was trying to do it was taking all her effort. While I was laying back enjoying myself the girl I had brought to the party with me was banging on the door. She sounded like she was about to break the door down, but I didn't care. I only had one thing to accomplish, and it had nothing to do with her. I had been in this chick's apartment for a couple of hours at this point, and when I left my friends just looked at me and said I'm sick.  I looked around, ready to face the girl I arrived with and she was nowhere to be found.  At that time I also noticed my car was gone too.  She had my car keys and had left me stranded at this party now.  She only had the key to the car and not my house, because this wasn't the first time she left me somewhere.

I thought about reporting the car stolen because I was pissed, but figured it wasn't worth it. I had to convince the girl I just hooked up with to bring me to my house now, 20 miles away.  It took some talking, but she agreed to bring me if I gave her a few bucks for gas.  I didn't have any cash with me, so I had to ask my friend 'Captain Chaos' (more on him in another post someday) and he gave me $5.  We get into the girls car and I notice a handicap permit hanging from the mirror.  I look to my left and there's a knob on the steering wheel...the kind that handicapped people use to turn the wheel if they only have one arm.  I don't know how I missed it up until this point, but the girl had something wrong with one arm and couldn't use her hand.  No wonder she was grunting and groaning when we were in bed earlier.  Did I really just hook up with a girl that had a clubbed hand?  You betcha, and I couldn't wait to tell the story to my friends.

When I got home the first girl had busted one of my windows out and was in the house.  I was so pissed that I didn't even talk to her even though she wouldn't stop trying.  The next morning I had to call Captain Chaos because he had hooked up with the girl from the party a few weeks earlier.  He didn't answer his phone all day.  Later that night I got a call from the guy that had the party, and he was laughing his ass off.  He said when the girl got back from dropping me off, Captain Chaos had gone into her apartment and hooked up with her.  This is less than 2 hours after I did.  Talk about sloppy seconds!

Where's My Mommy?

A few years ago I lived in a townhouse with two guys and a girl.  The girl had her sister visit for a few days, and the sister brought a friend who was married and had 3 kids.  It was a lot of people in a little three bedroom townhouse, but I made the best of it and tried to conserve space if you know what I mean.  The friend was a heavy set black girl, and I was determined to hook up with her because I hadn't been with a lot of black girls.  We all went out to a bar one night and I was really pouring on the charm.  By the time we got back home we were pretty liquored up and the inevitable happened.

She came into my bedroom and hopped into bed with me around 3am.   We made small talk for a bit and then started going at it.  I was so drunk I couldn't get a nut, so it just went on for hours, doing pretty much everything under the sun to each other.  Finally around 7am we heard a little noise outside my bedroom door, so somebody was awake.  Next came a knock on the door and it cracked open right after that.  Who the hell was coming into my room when I was with this chick?  Turns out it was one of her kids, and he politely asked "is my mommy in there?"  What the hell was I supposed to tell him, that I nailed her for a few hours and she was passed out?  "Nope, haven't seen her but I'm sure she'll turn up".  He shut the door and went to watch cartoons or something.  A little while later she got up, and the second she walked out my door her son was there waiting and said "I knew you were in there, I heard you".

Best Line Ever During Sex

One summer I lived in a room of my fraternity house with three other guys.  It was a pretty small room (for 4 people) divided into two sections.  When you first walked in the door, to the left was the sleeping area, and straight ahead was a living area with TV, couches, and a bar.  Since I was the one that hooked up the room for the summer I had the better of the three beds.  It was a huge loft, probably 6 feet wide by 8 feet long.  Two of my roommates slept directly underneath my loft.  This summer has been referred to as the "summer of love" for me because I hooked up with quite a few chicks.  We literally went out to the bars every night except 6 nights the entire summer.  One night I decided it would be a good idea to call my ex-girlfriend for a booty call.

We had been broken up for a while and hadn't even spoken for a couple of months.  That didn't seem to matter, because she was over in about 20 minutes.  We all hung out for a bit and then finally the ex and I climbed into  the loft.  The roommates were directly below us, but I could have cared less - my ex and I started going at it like the good ol' days.

Now during this time (mid 90's) there was a popular commercial out for Little Caesar's Pizza featuring Evel Knievel where the punchline was "Are you feelin' it Evel?"  I thought that would be a funny thing to say during sex, so you know what happened next.  We were going at it and I started smacking her ass really loud and blurted out "Are you feelin' it Evel?"  My friends about died from laughter, and still joke about it to this day.

My Birthday But My Brother Got the Present Too

When I turned 30 I wasn't like most others who had an early mid-life crisis.  I embraced it.  I wanted to have a good time, so I threw a big party in my own honor.  I rented out a clubhouse in the neighborhood I lived in, got a couple kegs, had a band, and enough Jell-O shots for the whole neighborhood.

One of the girls who showed up was a girl I dated for about 3 weeks and worked with a few months earlier.  My brother had the hots for her, but it was my birthday so I wasn't about to give her up that easily.  Pretty much everyone at the party was ripped, and the girl asked to talk to me in private at one point.  The clubhouse was just one big room, so there really weren't any private areas.  We ended up sneaking off into one of the closets where they kept the brooms and mops.  We talked for a bit and then some old feelings came out in us (thanks to the alcohol of course) and she started going down on me.   After a few minutes we could hear people looking for us and walking right past the door several times.  At one point they even tried to open it but I had locked it from the inside.

We eventually made a graceful exit from the closet and nobody even noticed we had been in there.  I didn't tell anyone what had happened until the next day, so clearly my brother had no clue.  A while later my brother was hitting on this girl and ended up kissing her.  Poor guy...if he had only known where her mouth had been before that.

My First Trailer Park Girl

I used to occasionally hit up this biker bar on my way home from work. I didn't really fit in at all, but I liked to "people watch" from time to time. I stopped in one night and although I could very well have gotten my ass kicked, I didn't, and I walked away with this story to tell.

It was your typical biker bar. Lots of guys wearing leather vests, getting into fights occasionally, drinking Bud and doing shots of Jack. I don't even remember how this came about, but I ended up picking up a chick one night who lived across the street in the trailer park. She convinced me to bring her home and I parked in front of her trailer. We sat on her picnic table for a little while and were all over each other. She finally invited me inside and I thought I was good to go. As soon as we stepped through the door we were greeted by some guy who was completely naked. He just stood there looking at me and I just about shit my pants, wondering how quickly he could grab a gun which I'm sure he had. Turned out the chick was married and her husband was in the trailer waiting for her to get home. I don't think he realized he was naked, because after about 20 seconds he finally said "oh shit, I'm as naked as a jaybird" and covered up. The girl told him I was a friend of hers and offered to bring her home. I made a quick exit and didn't go back to that bar for a while after that.

This Is Not My Office...

I love that one line from Beverly Hills Cop where Paul Reiser gets busted in the chief’s office and plays dumb by saying “this is not my office”. I’ve had the opportunity to use it myself.

My ex-girlfriend and I took a trip to Dallas a couple of years ago. She had family that lived there and her cousin took us out to a bar one night. The bar was pretty cool…an older looking Irish Pub with a cobblestone floor. At some point I went to the back of the bar to use the bathroom and when I came out I noticed another door. Curiosity got the best of me, so I opened the door and took a peek. It was another section of the bar that was closed off. My ex came out of the ladies room about that time and asked what I was doing. I grabbed her hand and dragged her into the other section with me and shut the door behind us. We hopped behind the bar, I lifted up her skirt, and she just leaned on the bar like she was waiting for a customer. A few minutes into this we heard footsteps, but it was too late. Two guys and a girl came in through another door, apparently a rear entrance to the pub, and totally busted us. There was nothing we could do to hide what we were doing, so I just kept on going. They made some comment like “yeah, way to go” and I said “this is not my office”.

We eventually made our way back to the table with her cousin and got all sorts of looks, like they couldn’t believe we just did that.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Don't Use That Tootbrush!

One of my “regular hookups” was living in Philly a few years ago. I was living in Virginia and our mutual friend was going to be in North Carolina on business. The friend is an old drinking buddy, and we’ve got into a little trouble in the past with our stupidity. The girl and I decided to take a little road trip to see him in NC. The Philly girl met me in VA and we took one car down to NC.

I didn’t have much to do while my friend was working, so of course I found the first bar. He finally wrapped up his business for the day and had an early flight out the next morning. To the bars we went. We pounded beers like there was no tomorrow. I had already been drinking most of the day, so into the evening I decided I was so wrecked that I needed to go back to the hotel. Not sure how I made it there by myself, but I did, while the girl and my friend were still in the bar. About an hour after I passed out, I remember the girl coming into the room to check on me. My friend ended up hooking up with a girl he met that night, so the Philly girl and I had the hotel to ourselves. We started going at it, and eventually made our way into the shower where we finished. Now bodies can move around a lot during sex, especially in a shower. I heard something fall in the tub and when I looked down I thought “uh-oh”. Apparently my friend brushed his teeth in the shower, because the noise I heard was his toothbrush hitting the tub. The girl picked it up and put it back, and I said “that’s sick”. I busted a nut on the floor of the shower, my buddy’s toothbrush was in the same spot a few seconds later, and she said “don’t tell him”.  Disgusting.

The next morning my friend came rushing in to the room. He had an 8:00 flight and had overslept at the girls house where he shacked up the previous night. He was going nuts, throwing clothes into a suitcase, running around, and yup, you guessed it, brushing his teeth. I started laughing so hard, and he asked me what was so funny. I couldn’t even speak because of how hard I was laughing, and that just made him even more mad. He cursed at me, finished brushing his teeth, and left for the airport.

I was finally able to tell him what was so funny a day or two later. He swore at me, threw his toothbrush in the trash, and hung up the phone.

Rudely Interrupted

Trips to Montreal were fairly common when I lived up North. It was only an hour and a half drive and it’s a fun city for a young guy in his 20’s. Sometimes if we didn’t feel like driving all the way up there we’d stop at a little hole in the wall called Club Erotica. This place was a little strip club in the middle of nowhere on the road to Montreal. We could make it there in 45 minutes or so, and they offered the same “benefits” as many of the other clubs in the city.

A couple friends and I headed up there one afternoon for beers and titties. One was a college buddy and the other was a girl who I’ve mentioned before that has wanted to be with me for 15 years. Although we’ve never dated, she tends to get pretty jealous at times, so having her drive us to the club was a bad idea from the start.

We were just hanging out for a while, drinking some Canadian beer, talking with the strippers, and having a good time. There were only about 8 people in the place. After several beers and shots, my buddy and I started thinking about spending some cash on strippers instead of just beer. My buddy was the first to succumb to the pressure of “don’t you want a private dance?”. He went into the private area and was gone for a good 20 minutes. He came out looking a little embarassed, because the girl that drove us there thought he was the squeaky-clean type.

While he was getting his “dance”, a guy walked in the door and I thought “holy shit”. It was a good friend of my brother. Talk about random. Here we were in another country, some hole in the wall place, and in walks my brother’s friend who I hadn’t seen in about 3 years. When I was talking with him, one of the dancers approached me and asked if I wanted a private dance. She was pretty hot, I was going to pick one of the girls anyway, so why not. We headed into a little “stall” where the action takes place, probably 4 feet by 4 feet with a curtain across the entrance, and she started dancing. After a couple minutes of fondling her tits she offered to give me a little something extra. We started going at it, and then I heard someone saying “Jake”. I knew it was my brother’s friend, and I just ignored him. He kept calling my name louder, and even started knocking on the wood outside my booth. I told him to go away and then he opened the curtain while I was going at it. He said “give me $50″. Come on, this really couldn’t wait? I told him to get the hell out and I’d give him money later. Then a stripper popped her head around the corner and said “your friend owes me money”. This was like a bad dream…trying to get a nut and people keep opening the curtain and having conversations with me. I threw the girl a $50 and finished up.

I was a little angry at this point that someone would interrupt me like that. When I came out of the booth, the friend I went there with told me our ride had left. Apparently she was jealous that I was with a stripper doing “who knows what” and she left us stranded in Canada. My friend was able to convince her to come back and pick us up, but she was about 20 minutes down the road already headed home. I might still be there if my friend wasn’t able to sweet talk her a little. She picked us up, told me never to talk to her again, and it was a long, quiet ride home.

Who Says Virginia Girls Aren't Easy?

Several years ago my friends and I used to frequent a local bar in Virginia.  Every night seemed the same…get home from work, drink, go out to this one bar, drink some more, and then head home to nurse a hangover.  Any of my friends will agree, I do some pretty stupid things when I’ve been drinking.  After all, that’s the basis for this entire blog.

We were all leaving the bar one night after last call, and we had stepped out the front door.  I caught a glimpse of this woman across the street and told my friends to hold on a minute.  They knew I was just crossing the street to make an ass out of myself, but they waited for a minute.  I started talking to this “lady” and within 3 minutes I was hopping into her car and off to her house.  She was big, she was in her mid 50’s (I was probably 26 at the time), and she had a mole on her cheek the size of a quarter, complete with two black hairs growing out of it.   In that state I didn’t care.  I only had one thing on my mind.

We made it back to her place and sat on the couch for about 15 minutes getting to know each other.  Like that really mattered, or like I wanted to know anything about her.  Eventually we made our way to the bedroom and got down and dirty.  I was so drunk I actually went down on this nasty woman, and it makes me nauseous to this day.  Right now you’re thinking I have no shame and yes, you are correct.  Once we were done I called my friend and asked him to pick me up.  The last thing I wanted to do is wake up next to this lady.  He laughed at me, said have a good night, and hung up the phone.  What a dick.

I had to have the chick drive me home the next morning, bright and early.  I almost threw up in her car but managed to make it home.  Any normal person would accept the fact that they did something as nasty as I did and then move on with their life.  Not this kid.  I was out a couple weeks later at a little dive bar.  A friend was visiting and we were just hanging out all day getting ripped as usual.  I was trying to think of chicks I could call for an easy hookup, and she was my last resort.  I actually called from the pay phone because I didn’t want her to know my number.

“Hey there, it’s Jake from a few weeks ago, remember me?”

“Yeah, what’s up”

“I was thinking I should come over again tonight”

“That’s funny, I was thinking you should never call me again”

Did I really just hear that from a woman with nothing going for her?  I don’t remember, but I probably cried myself to sleep over that one, and laid my head on a pillow instead of a nice soft mole.

Oops, Was That Your Head?

I got a call a couple months ago from an old coworker of mine who was in town on business.  We worked together about 5 years ago and kept in touch since.  She has had the same boyfriend for 15 years, but one night when we used to work together we had some drinks and ended up sleeping together.  She wasn’t the best looking girl…an 80’s hairdo and the chest of a 12 year old boy.

She called me up when she came to town and we were supposed to grab a few drinks to catch up. She got a boob job 6 months earlier, so she wanted to show those to me as well.  I could never get her to send me pictures, because she knew I was going to share them with another one of our old coworkers who had been asking for the same thing.  When I met her at the bar, she had already been drinking with her coworkers for a few hours, and she was pretty well drunk.  I had some catching up to do, so I was doing shots, but every time I ordered one she did the same.  I knew it wasn’t a good idea for her, but there was no stopping her.

After we were out for a while and she had shown her new tits to the entire bar we headed back to her hotel room.  Within 3 minutes we were both naked, and she finally let me get that picture I had been asking for.  Took it on my cell phone since I don’t carry a camera with me.  I hopped into bed and we were joking around a bit, then she rolled over toward the edge of the bed to get up.  As she did, I gave her a joking shove on her back, and she was so drunk that she just kept on rolling right out of the bed.  I heard a bang and she came up from the floor holding her head.  She had hit it on the nightstand.  I didn’t push her hard, and certainly didn’t mean to hurt her, so I asked if she was OK.  She sat on the other bed for a second, then pointed to the door and said “I think you need to leave”.

I was in the hotel room for a total of about 5 minutes, and here I was putting my clothes back on already.  The truth is I wasn’t really drunk enough to get it on with her, so in a way I was relieved.  I went to grab my cigarettes from the table and they were gone.  I said “you’re stealing my smokes too?” to which she replied “yup”.  As soon as I walked out the door I had a feeling she was going to follow me and ask me to come back, so before that happened I started running down the hallway and dipped around the corner.

I emailed the pictures to my friend from the parking garage before I left, and copied her on the email.  Her titties looked good, but if you polish a turd it’s still a turd.

Was There a Monkey in Here?

One of my old coworkers got married a few years back, and his wife really has him by the balls.  Before they actually got married he wanted to have a bachelor party, but she didn’t want him to have one.  They compromised and he was allowed to have one, as long as it was at my house.  In retrospect, she may have known something that I didn’t.

It was a small group of guys, maybe 6-7, most of whom I didn’t know.  The bachelor was all excited to have a night without the future wife, so we stocked up on plenty of booze.  A few hours in, we started talking about liquor.  He said how much he liked Wild Turkey, and I said “what a coincidence, I have some in the kitchen”.  All I had was Johnny Walker Red, so I thought I’d try to trick him.  He ended up drinking a good part of the bottle himself, and after every shot he’d say “gobble gobble”, which just added to the humor for the rest of us.

We had strippers come over, one of which was an old roommate of mine.  I didn’t like her, but I knew how she was and that she would show the boys a good time.  They showed up late, took my cash, started arguing with me, and then left 2 minutes later.  Yup, ripped off by a couple of whores.  Sadly, that’s not the worst part of this story.

Once people had either left or passed out, my roommate went to the bathroom before going to bed.  He had to work the next morning, so he was pretty much sober.  He got within 10 feet of the bathroom door (which was shut) and told me to come over there.  It smelled horrible, like…well, like exactly what it looked like.  He opened the door, and the bachelor who had been in there for about 10 minutes prior had smeared shit all over everything.  It was on the toilet seat, on the sink, on the door, in the tub, on the walls….literally everywhere but in the toilet.  It was one of the most disgusting things I have ever seen.

My roommate told me to clean it up and I said I’d do it the next morning.  He was pissed because he knew why I said that…he had to work the next morning and I didn’t.  How was he going to take a shower when it looked like the inside of a mud hut?  He did end up cleaning it while I tried to make sure the bachelor didn’t get any more throughout the house.  He was passed out on a blanket in our living room, with flies landing on his head, shit stains on his forehead, the whole nine.

I told this story to another friend a few days later and he was about as disgusted and shocked as I was.  His comment really cracked me up: “He smeared it all over the place? That’s what monkeys do at the zoo”.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Pimps Don't Pay

A few years ago my friends and I had just started hanging out with this group of girls, and hitting the same bar every Fri/Sat night was the norm.  We’d all meet up, get housed, hit on chicks, and then go home.  One of the girls had a little thing for me, and although she wasn’t good looking by any means, my buddy talked me into going home with her in a moment of weakness.

It was late in the night and my friend and I had been talking about me hooking up with this chick.  I said it wasn’t going to happen because not only was she ugly, but nobody even liked her because she was such a bitch.  She had been hitting on me all night and my friend said he’d give me $25 to go home with her.  Let’s just say she wasn’t a $25 kind of girl, and I let him know it.  It was going to take more than that.  He eventually upped it to $50 and I jumped on it (c’mon, I probably would have done the deed with her at some point anyway).  Five minutes later I was on my way to her place.

When we got to her place and jumped in the sack it was every bit as nasty as I imagined, and I had to act quick before I sobered up. This girl had huge tits, and they seemed to flow right into her big belly.  I made her turn the light off because frankly I didn’t want to see what I was about to do.

Moving along without the nasty details…the next morning I was all excited to talk to my friend and let him know he owed me $50.  We made plans to head back out to the bars that night and I figured I’d get my money then.  I already had the money spent…I was going to have Corona’s all night, a few shots of Rumpleminze, and maybe even buy my buddy a drink for his “cut”.

We met up that night, and of course the first words out of my mouth were “where’s my money?”  He really pissed me off at this point, because he said he wasn’t paying me for anything.  I felt disgusted with myself all day, and now I wasn’t even going to get paid for it?  He pimped me out, and what he said next was both hilarious and infuriating:

Pimps Don’t Pay!

Cheap bastard.  That’ll teach me to deal with him anymore.  His nickname ever since has been “the dirty pimp”.

Two Girls, One Husband, and a Head Injury

When I had a corporate gig I used to hang out in the same bar every day after work, and sometimes the “happy hour” went late into the night.  I eventually bought the bar when I left my corporate job, figuring it would save me money in the long run.  When I was still at my “normal” job I used to work in the same building as this one girl.  We didn’t know each other (worked in different departments on different floors), but saw each other on a daily basis.

We were both at my bar one night and we started talking.  Not long thereafter, the conversation turned to the fact that her husband was out of town for the night and she was interested in hooking up.  One problem: my “friend” was coming into town that night to stay at my house on her way to Georgia.  She had just taken a new job and wanted to split up the trip, so I told her to meet me at my bar.  We had been sleeping together on and off for about 10 years whenever we saw each other (a few times a year).  I had no interest in being with this chick romantically, but she had other ideas despite my open communication with her.

When my friend arrived at the bar she only stayed for about 20 minutes and then got bitchy with me since I was all over the other chick.  She ordered me to give her directions to my house which I did, and then she took off.  About an hour later the other girl and I decided there was no reason to delay the inevitable, so we headed to my house.  Now you’re probably wondering why I would bring another girl to my house when there was already one there, and I don’t have a good answer.

I was driving a Porsche at the time which only had 2 seats, and small seats at that.  It was about a 20-minute drive to my house, and as soon as we left the parking lot the girl was all over me.  She was rubbing me, trying to make out with me, grabbing certain parts, you get the picture.  We got on the highway and by that time she had stripped down naked.  Whew, this girl was ready!  Boy was she.  She got out of her seat and straddled me.  Imagine doing 80 mph down the highway with the top down and a girl trying to ride you.  I couldn’t see shit, and I’m amazed we didn’t get into an accident.

We did eventually make it to my house, and at that point I was thinking about how I was going to deal with the friend.  We just went inside quietly and hopped on the couch.  My bedroom door was closed so I knew the friend was in there, but so were my condoms.  I went in quietly and of course the chick was wide awake waiting for me.  I grabbed a condom from the dresser and started to leave and she said “oh no, fuck that”.  She followed me out of my room making a scene, and the other chick apparently forgot I had a friend staying the night.  They started yelling at each other, and then ganged up on me.  The friend smacked me across the face and the other girl left through the front door.  Following the one I had more interest in hooking up with I went out the front door as well.  We sat in the middle of the driveway talking for a little while, and for some reason she thought my friend was really my wife.  Seemed like a strange thing to get pissed about when she herself was married and her husband out of town.  She had a brand new pack of cigarettes and chucked them at me.  The corner of the pack hit me square in the forehead, and all I could think of was in Tommy Boy: “Son of a….that’s gonna leave a mark”.  My friend came out about that time, yelled that I had “successfully ruined 10 years of friendship in one night” and left for Georgia.

I was able to patch things up briefly with the other girl and we went inside (my hand on my forehead) to finish what we had started.  It was a little annoying that she was on the phone with her husband for part of the time we were going at it, but I guess you take what you can get.  It took me about a month to patch things up with the friend, and we’ve been back to normal ever since.  I still see the other chick once in a while, and she’s usually with her husband, so it’s always awkward.

The Fastest Hookup Ever

Owning a bar sucked most of the time, but it did have its perks.  One Friday night I had a full staff and was just hanging out getting drunk.  This one chick came in occasionally, and when she did, she was always there by herself.  This night in particular I noticed her sitting in the corner by herself, so I figured I’d try to hook up with her.  Here’s how the conversation went:

“How you doing tonight?”

“Fine, what are you up to?”

“Not much, just seeing if I can get you to come home with me”

“Let’s go”

It really was that quick, I couldn’t believe it.  I was drunk as hell already, so she brought me to my house and I stumbled in the front door.  I had some boxing gloves by the door and for whatever reason decided to put them on.  I was joking around like I was going to box with her and I accidentally hit her head with a little more than the tap I intended on.  She started swearing at me and left immediately.

The entire interaction between me approaching her in the bar and her leaving my house couldn’t have been any more than 15 minutes, making it not only one of the dumber things I’ve done, but also the fastest (near) hookup ever.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

The Girl Who Thought About Exercising

As many of my stories will begin, I polished up the beer goggles and went out to the bars one night. At this point in my life, probably the mid 90's, I liked to drink...A LOT. Being in a small town, every night I'd hit the bars I'd see the same people. I had seen this one girl a million times because she was actually an old classmate of one of my friends. She wasn't just a big girl, but she was flat out ugly. I think she fell on the floor when she was born because her face looked like my ass cheeks pressed up against a window. Out of options at 2am I decided I had nothing better to do, so what the hell. 5 minutes of conversation and we were on our way to her house with a friend of mine.

We got to the house and my friend and I were just being assholes, no way to sugar coat it. She had a Mr. Frosty snow cone maker and we were experimenting with various ingredients to see what we came up with. After getting bored with that I finally whisked her into the bedroom and we hopped into bed.

Here's where the memory is a little fuzzy (or maybe selective amnesia). I blacked out after we got in bed. To this day I don't know if we did the deed or not, but there was a condom wrapper on her nightstand and when I woke up to that a couple hours later I decided to try to get my friend to bring me home. I stepped out of bed, still piss drunk, and tripped on something (most likely my own feet). My body twisted as I went down for the count, and I hit the back of my head on something hard. The girl turned the light on to see what the hell happened, and when she did, I saw a bar above my forehead. I sat up and looked a little closer, and it was an Ab Roller, one of those things you're supposed to use for sit-ups. I remember bursting into laughter and asking rhetorically if she ever used it, and got the obvious answer "no".

Once I stopped laughing I was able to get up and leave her room, and my buddy was asleep on the couch. I woke him up and we took off, but not without getting a trophy first. The Mr. Frosty was on the counter by the door so I snatched it on the way out. Snow cones never tasted so good after all I had to go through to get my Mr. Frosty.


A Warm Bowl of Soup

I’ve been to Montreal more times than I can count. A lot of those trips ended up in me staggering down Ste. Catherine Street looking for hookers on the way back to the hotel. I was up there with about 7 friends one night and at the end of a very long night filled with titty bars, I found myself alone on the street. Not sure what made me decide to venture out on my own at 3am away from my buddies, but it turned into a hooker hunt when I rounded one corner.

Sometimes prostitutes aren’t so obvious, other times you can pick ‘em out from a mile away. This was a case of the latter. Two girls, each with mini skirts, standing against a building smoking cigarettes and smiling at everyone that walked by. I stopped to make some smalltalk and the conversation quickly turned to price. I don’t remember how much each one said they cost, but being the bargain hunter I am, I negotiated a two-for-one deal. I think they were happy to have any business, because one was a little chubby and the other looked like she was about 50.

We took off, me in the middle and a girl on each arm, and waltzed right into the lobby of my hotel. It was late at night so there weren’t a lot of guests in the lobby, but boy did the staff look at me funny. It was a decent hotel and here is some 20-something drunk guy walking in with a couple of hookers. We made it to my room and “oh shit, my friends are already back”. We all crammed into one room with two beds, so you can imagine the lack of space.

A couple of them were already in bed sleeping, so when they awoke to find me needing their bed they were not exactly happy. My one friend refused to get off the bed, so there wasn’t enough room for all of us. Being in the Christmas spirit that night, I “gave” one of the girls (the chubby one) to another friend. I didn’t really need two for myself, I was just being greedy. The only option I had was to bring her into the bathroom and lock the door, because I knew someone was going to try and snap a picture or something. My friend who was with the other girl shut the lights off and laid down with her outside the bathroom door which was also around the corner from everyone else.

The entire time I was in the bathroom with my girl I could hear my friend talking to the other one. Was he trying to get laid or just making conversation? After a few minutes it got quiet…real quiet…so I knew he finally shut up and got to work. We all heard a “slap, slap, slap” as he pounded away for about 30 seconds, then it got quiet again. The whole room must have been biting their lips so they didn’t laugh, because all of a sudden my friend says “Holy shit, that’s like nailing a warm bowl of soup”. The whole room burst into laughter, including the girl I was with.

My Brother the Cock Block

One weekend trip to Montreal with a few friends, two adjoining hotel rooms, a lot of Canadian beer, and a great escort service…a few hundred bucks down the tube.

I don’t remember the occasion, but a few of my friends, my brother, and myself all went to Montreal for a weekend trip. Probably went to catch a hockey game or something. These sort of trips used to take their toll on my liver, because it was always get up, eat breakfast, drink, and don’t stop until you can’t stand up anymore. Certainly the case this weekend.

After another night of looking at titties in the strip clubs, we all went back to our rooms in the hotel around 2am. My brother and I had one room with two beds, and everyone else was in the next room. Both rooms were joined by a door, which I knew as soon as I saw it was a bad idea for a group like us. As soon as I got back to the hotel I grabbed the yellow pages and looked up escorts. Called the first one and boom, a girl would be over within 45 minutes. Everyone was talking in the other room until a knock on the door. I opened it, and WOW, was this girl hot! Turns out one friend had been down in the lobby and followed her up the elevator, not knowing I had called her. They got off the same floor, walked down the same hall, and stopped at the same door, wondering what was going on.

I quickly got everyone out of my room and my brother was passed out on the other bed in my room. I could not wake him up no matter what I tried, so finally I decided hey, if I can’t wake him up, he’s not going to disturb me. That’s where I was wrong. After the “deal” was over and the girl and I started getting it on, I knew I had about a half hour left. At that time my brother started snoring, and the snoring got louder by the minute. It was so loud that it broke my concentration and when time was running out, I couldn’t finish my job. To make matters worse, my friends were trying to break through the door into my room to take incriminating pictures. The girl finally had to stop so she could leave for her next appointment, and I was out $300. Whether my brother and friends will admit it or not, they owe me for this failed experience. I may as well have started to rub one out, quit at the last second, and then burned a stack of money.