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.