So I was sitting at the station last night, with my brother and a buddy of ours when Doug, another friend of ours, came by to hang out with us while we finished our shift. He was talking about going to a bar and drinking. Now, I rarely get out but for some reason I still can't comprehend, I decided to talk Doug into taking me to Diamonds & Laces in Chattanooga, Tennessee. So we go.
We arrive, and I'm nervous as shit. I begin to believe this is a bad idea before we even go in. I soldier on, however, on the sole reason that I might have a funny story to tell, even though it would surely be at my expense. And, it was.
We go in, sit down at the bar. A thick black chick is furiously shaking her ass two feet from the face of a dude that looked like he came straight out of a rap video. He was bobbing his head, almost in rhythm with her ass. We order a pitcher of beer. It is now important to remember in this story that Im not normally a beer drinker- I'm a mixed drink and liquor fanatic. I hate beer. I down half my glass, when another black stripper comes over, and starts talking to my friend. Thirty seconds later, she turns to me, and squeezes in between me and Doug. He scoots down. I begin assuming I've been set up.
*Stripper rubs my leg, my arm, runs hand up my shirt sleeve*
Stripper: Hey baby, how you doin'?
Me: I'm ok. I'm trying to get drunk. You might wanna talk to my buddy though. Im cool for now.
Stripper: Why? Whats the matter honey? You don't like me?
Me: You're ok. Id just rather drink.
*At this point, Im fucking tripping balls. I'm nervous, out of my element, and her face is staring right into mine. Her arm is still snaking up and down my arm. I decide that my low self esteem may come in handy for once, so I start trying to insult my self into her leaving me alone.*
Stripper: So what do you do for fun?
Me: Nothing. I sit at home, and stare at the walls. I don't get out alot.
Stripper: Aw, why not?
Me: Im a loser.
*Im thinking I may just get out of this with that exchange. I am wrong.*
Stripper: I dont think you're a loser. I think you're cute. I like me a nice big man.
*I begin to sense this is going to be harder than I thought*
Me: Trust me, Im boring. But my buddies not getting any attention. Why dont you give him some?
Stripper: I like you..and Id like to get to know you.
*Sidenote, I have been steadily drinking the pitcher by myself the entire time because of my nervousness. I am also chainsmoking. I reach for my cigarettes. Grab my lighter. She takes it from me. I briefly am under the impression she is going to steal it. Instead, she gives me a semi sultry look, and lights it for me.*
Me: Look, to be honest, Im overwhelmed here, and uncomfortable.
Stripper: Well, let me make you comfortable. You wanna go with me? 10 minutes for 2-0. (I assume its 20 dollars for a ten minute dance, but I never intended to find out so truthfully I dont know)
Me: No, Im cool.....hey, what did my friend say to you?
Stripper: He said you were new, and needed attention.
*I now realize my suspicions were correct. He has thrown me to the fucking wolves. Prick.*
Me: Well, look, im really not up for this.
Stripper: Well...ok...but I am being sincere. You really are a nice looking man and dont let anyone tell you different.
*I think, yeah right bitch. You just want my money. She gives me one last smile, then walks off*
I turn to doug.
Me: You're a fucking asshole. I want to go.
Doug: HAHAHAHAHAH! THATS GREAT!
Me: Fuck you.
So, moral of the story: I hate women more than ever now, because it struck me that I have to pay if I want to get a chick naked or to talk to me, and I'm suprisingly resilient enough to not give in to that. I literally felt exploited, oddly enough, as you'd think the ladies were the ones getting the shaft. Not so. They are there to make a living off desperate loners like me. Fuck them.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
WWE Tag Champ Solicits Loser For Drugs
Yes, you read right. But lets tell this shit in order.
First off, we had front row seats to the Raw house show. That was awesome as it was.
Featured:
14 man battle royal.
Chris Jericho Vs. Randy Orton World Title Match
Jeff Hardy Vs. Mr. Kennedy Intercontinental Title Match
Paul London & Brian Kendrick vs. Bob Holly and some dude (champs) vs. Terry Murdoch and Lance Cade title match.
Main event, Triple H vs. Umaga Steel Cage Match.
Here are a few photos. All phone pics, but thats all I had to work with.
After the show, Me and my buddy Anthony were walking back to the car outside the area. We see this really nice caddy pulling out of the bottom ramp, we assume correctly that a wrestler is probably in it.
Thirty Seconds later we look over, and the car has its windows rolled down. A dude is sitting in the passenger seat.
Dude: Hey guys, can we talk to you a minute?
Us: Yeah.
Dude: Ok, we're pulling over.
They stop on the side of the street in a parking spot.
We walk up to the window. We then recognize who it is. Fucking Paul London, two time WWE tag champ, with the longest reigning length of 145 days.
Here is a quick youtube of his highlights in case you still don't know who I'm referring to.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZHUP9zZvf4
(He's the dude with black hair, nice teeth and decent tan)
Us: Hey, great match! You did good. *assorted compliments*
Paul: Thanks, hey thanks.
*At this point we ask him about his chest, because Bob Holly, who is documented as one of the roughest guys in the business, had received a chop from him....then grabbed him and hit him back with six chops, at least that echoed through the entire building. Paul actually lifts his tee shirt. There are red hand prints all over his chest, nearly bleeding.*
Paul: Man it still hurts. But Hey, I don't mean nothing by this, but do you guys know where to get some smoke?
Us: Awww...man, no we only got a half joint.
Paul: Oh if thats all you got, keep it man. We got a pinch, we were looking for about two ounces. We're heading to Atlanta tonight. (Side note: I looked it up, they have another house show there).
This whole time, I was standing there mentally kicking my ass for not having a pen and paper for an autograph. Also I know this is a story to tell, and I definitely wanted proof. Then I remember my aformentioned camera phone.
Me: Hey dude, I know its probably a hassle, but would you take a picture with me?
Paul: Yeah man! Absolutely!
He hops out of the car. Shakes both our hands. Then pounds them. We pose...and heres the shot.
Look at his fingers closely. What does it look like hes holding? A joint. Then look at my thumbs up...almost looks like a bowl I'm holding, but I didnt preplan that, heh.
Us: Thanks, sorry we cant help you man.
Paul: Oh its cool, we were just looking for some for the ride. But i'm sure we'll meet up later sometime...I know that sounds kinda weird haha...
Anthony: Nah, its that weed karma.
All of us laugh.
We go to shake hands one last time. He grabs my arm in what I thought was maybe going to end in a disagreeable fashion like me having a broken bone, but instead was just an indian handshake.
Paul: This is how we do it!
And thats it. What I liked about him was how "real" he seemed- almost more genuine then alot of regular people you run into. I definitely can respect that. But, the other thing I noticed was that this guy had some balls: seriously, he randomly chooses two dudes from the show to ask for weed? I mean, shit, what if one of them wrote a story about it and published it online? That would be fucked up. But then again maybe that fan would give him an out, and cover his tracks by just saying this could all be a made up story by some online blogger looking for attention. Afterall, it's not like Every Loser Had His Day, is it?
First off, we had front row seats to the Raw house show. That was awesome as it was.
Featured:
14 man battle royal.
Chris Jericho Vs. Randy Orton World Title Match
Jeff Hardy Vs. Mr. Kennedy Intercontinental Title Match
Paul London & Brian Kendrick vs. Bob Holly and some dude (champs) vs. Terry Murdoch and Lance Cade title match.
Main event, Triple H vs. Umaga Steel Cage Match.
Here are a few photos. All phone pics, but thats all I had to work with.
After the show, Me and my buddy Anthony were walking back to the car outside the area. We see this really nice caddy pulling out of the bottom ramp, we assume correctly that a wrestler is probably in it.
Thirty Seconds later we look over, and the car has its windows rolled down. A dude is sitting in the passenger seat.
Dude: Hey guys, can we talk to you a minute?
Us: Yeah.
Dude: Ok, we're pulling over.
They stop on the side of the street in a parking spot.
We walk up to the window. We then recognize who it is. Fucking Paul London, two time WWE tag champ, with the longest reigning length of 145 days.
Here is a quick youtube of his highlights in case you still don't know who I'm referring to.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZHUP9zZvf4
(He's the dude with black hair, nice teeth and decent tan)
Us: Hey, great match! You did good. *assorted compliments*
Paul: Thanks, hey thanks.
*At this point we ask him about his chest, because Bob Holly, who is documented as one of the roughest guys in the business, had received a chop from him....then grabbed him and hit him back with six chops, at least that echoed through the entire building. Paul actually lifts his tee shirt. There are red hand prints all over his chest, nearly bleeding.*
Paul: Man it still hurts. But Hey, I don't mean nothing by this, but do you guys know where to get some smoke?
Us: Awww...man, no we only got a half joint.
Paul: Oh if thats all you got, keep it man. We got a pinch, we were looking for about two ounces. We're heading to Atlanta tonight. (Side note: I looked it up, they have another house show there).
This whole time, I was standing there mentally kicking my ass for not having a pen and paper for an autograph. Also I know this is a story to tell, and I definitely wanted proof. Then I remember my aformentioned camera phone.
Me: Hey dude, I know its probably a hassle, but would you take a picture with me?
Paul: Yeah man! Absolutely!
He hops out of the car. Shakes both our hands. Then pounds them. We pose...and heres the shot.
Look at his fingers closely. What does it look like hes holding? A joint. Then look at my thumbs up...almost looks like a bowl I'm holding, but I didnt preplan that, heh.
Us: Thanks, sorry we cant help you man.
Paul: Oh its cool, we were just looking for some for the ride. But i'm sure we'll meet up later sometime...I know that sounds kinda weird haha...
Anthony: Nah, its that weed karma.
All of us laugh.
We go to shake hands one last time. He grabs my arm in what I thought was maybe going to end in a disagreeable fashion like me having a broken bone, but instead was just an indian handshake.
Paul: This is how we do it!
And thats it. What I liked about him was how "real" he seemed- almost more genuine then alot of regular people you run into. I definitely can respect that. But, the other thing I noticed was that this guy had some balls: seriously, he randomly chooses two dudes from the show to ask for weed? I mean, shit, what if one of them wrote a story about it and published it online? That would be fucked up. But then again maybe that fan would give him an out, and cover his tracks by just saying this could all be a made up story by some online blogger looking for attention. Afterall, it's not like Every Loser Had His Day, is it?
Saturday, September 6, 2008
The Drugs, Crackheads and Cops Story: Conclusion
Being somewhat smarter than a few minutes ago when we decided to pull some real life Grand Theft Auto, we put up our hands so as to not risk getting shot, pepper sprayed, or tasered; maybe all of the above.
Out of the review I can see an officer on my left approaching the window. It is a fairly young guy, probably mid twenties. By the time he is at my door my stomach is so tight It feels like its about to re-enact the Big Bang Theory and soak the cop in a coating of nervous primordial soup. I don't however because A) thankfully thats not physically possible and B) when it comes go time in these situations I've actually been money in the bank at keeping cool even when an Hiroshima aftermath is blasting inside my head.
Officer 1: I need to see your license and insurance, please.
Me: No problem. Here you go.
Officer 1: Mind stepping out of the car for me?
Me: Sure.
As I get out, I notice that behind the Ford Explorer, there are three (THREE) other cruisers behind them. Apparently, they were thinking they found some escaped cons who might be armed to the teeth and tweaked out on meth. I see a few cops standing around them, but they do not come over. That is when I notice a female officer is at Sean's window. I assume he has been asked to get out as well; either that, or he's gonna try and make a break for it. Admittedly it would have been a cool sight, if not for the down side that I'd probably get slammed face first into the street and possibly killed. And over a fucking pot pipe at that.
So, I'm stand in front of the guy, and he asks me if I have any drugs or weapons on me. I say no. On the other side I vaguely hear the chick Cop following suit, but changing it up a bit with Sean- "Do you have any needles or drugs on you?" (I don't know if the dude just forgot to ask me about needles, or Sean just looks like a heroin junkie, but its fun to think its the latter.)
Officer 1: Do you mind if I search your person?
Me: Not at all.
He asks me to turn around and place my hands on the back of my trunk. At this point, I'm sure I'm going to jail. Not because I have anything on me, but because the other cop is gonna find the pipe on Sean and that would somehow make me guilty as well. The cop searching me finds nothing illegal. But he does find a single page from a porn magazine I had in my back pocket.
(Okay, let me explain the porn before I'm thought of as a fucking pervert: Its a picture of a naked chick, and naked chicks are hot. So yeah, I was probably a pervert. But thats not the point. The point is I had it for a very good reason- Jerry's drunk ass kept insisting for me to take it and I put it in my back pocket. Honest truth, swear to God.)
Officer 1 to nobody in particular: Porn.
Female Officer looking across car with Sean: What?
Officer 1 now holding it up where she can see: Porno.
He then lays it on my trunk like a piece of evidence.
At this point, I'm more embarrassed in this revelation to the female cop than I can recall ever being at any other point in my life. I'm not sure why. Its just porn. And I was just a guy. And its not the crazy fist up some midget girls anus kind either, it was just a classy Playboy spread photo. Absolutely nothing wrong with that. Although, I would have preferred the fist up some midget girls anus photo. I kid. I kid.
I wasn't embarrassed for long however, because it was then I realized Sean had been searched as well and that pipe had not been found. Which meant only one thing: It was in the car.
Officer 1: Mind if we search your car?
Fuck. We're screwed. And all because Sean didn't keep that damn thing and put it in my car.
Me: Yeah.
The Cop begins going through my floorboard, looking and feeling up under my seats. As each second that feels like an eternity passes by, I sickeningly wait for him to pull it out and then slap on the cuffs. All of a sudden he stands back up, and walks over to me, hands empty. The search is over, and somehow that pipe had fucking disappeared. I didn't know why, but I sure as shit didn't care.
Officer 1: Alright, mind telling me what you guys are doing out this evening?
I explain to him where we were, and who we were visiting. I also explain my erratic driving as not being familiar with that road (which is true, I rarely go through that way). I finish and he immediately hones in at the previous location.
Officer 1: The Down Towner huh? What room?
Me: 210.
Officer 1: Yeah, theres a known prostitution ring that hangs around room 213. Were you down there getting prostitutes?
The question itself is absurd, and I actually chuckle before answering no. Then I remembered I was the guy that had porn in his back pocket.
(Note: I later, and still wonder why, if it is a KNOWN prostitution ring, it was still going on without police intervention. I now kinda believe he was just fucking with me because of the porn.)
Officer 1: Alright, well stand here and I'll be right back.
He and the female officer (who only interacted with Sean on the other side) walk back to the explorer. I stare at Sean, he stares back. What the hell was going to happen now? Are we gonna get out of this? Or are they just discussing who gets first shot at splitting our melons with mag lites?
Officer 1 walks back up. He has my license and insurance card.
Officer 1: Heres the deal. You basically broke three traffic laws. We saw you making the turn at the Post Office, when you were speeding, and saw your improper lane change. Thats why we came after you. You also ran that stop sign.
Me: Yes sir. I'm really sorry about that, sir.
Officer 1: Mmkay. Well, since you cooperated we're gonna let you go with a warning this time. But you guys need to go straight home, I don't wanna see you out here again. And you should probably stay away from the Down Towner especially this late, okay?
Me: Yes sir.
Officer 1: Alright, drive safely and have a good night.
Sean and I get back in the car.
I sit there for a minute, get my breath, and let out a sigh of relief. Sean and I begin repeating the mantra "oh shit, that scared the shit out of me" ecetera. I crank the car up, and start driving. Once we're out of driving distance, I finally ask:
Me: Dude, where in the fuck did you put that pipe? Did you get rid of it somehow?
Sean: No dude. I put it on my nuts. (In other words, in his underwear.)
Me: ..
ME: I'm not going to hit that pipe until you soak that shit in bleach.
...........................................................
On a side note, I learned a lot of lessons that night. Don't make drug deals with strangers, especially the kind who look like vampires and who's eyes are as large as small cantaloupes. Never speed down town, and break all kinds of traffic laws if you do make a deal that happens to go bad. A dime sack isn't worth a possible case. And lastly, never carry porn.
Seriously though, I was a dumbass. And even though I'm trying to present this in a humorous way, there was a point to this and that is to not try and do stupid shit like I occasionally have. It wasn't cool at all. But it is funny as hell in hindsight.
Out of the review I can see an officer on my left approaching the window. It is a fairly young guy, probably mid twenties. By the time he is at my door my stomach is so tight It feels like its about to re-enact the Big Bang Theory and soak the cop in a coating of nervous primordial soup. I don't however because A) thankfully thats not physically possible and B) when it comes go time in these situations I've actually been money in the bank at keeping cool even when an Hiroshima aftermath is blasting inside my head.
Officer 1: I need to see your license and insurance, please.
Me: No problem. Here you go.
Officer 1: Mind stepping out of the car for me?
Me: Sure.
As I get out, I notice that behind the Ford Explorer, there are three (THREE) other cruisers behind them. Apparently, they were thinking they found some escaped cons who might be armed to the teeth and tweaked out on meth. I see a few cops standing around them, but they do not come over. That is when I notice a female officer is at Sean's window. I assume he has been asked to get out as well; either that, or he's gonna try and make a break for it. Admittedly it would have been a cool sight, if not for the down side that I'd probably get slammed face first into the street and possibly killed. And over a fucking pot pipe at that.
So, I'm stand in front of the guy, and he asks me if I have any drugs or weapons on me. I say no. On the other side I vaguely hear the chick Cop following suit, but changing it up a bit with Sean- "Do you have any needles or drugs on you?" (I don't know if the dude just forgot to ask me about needles, or Sean just looks like a heroin junkie, but its fun to think its the latter.)
Officer 1: Do you mind if I search your person?
Me: Not at all.
He asks me to turn around and place my hands on the back of my trunk. At this point, I'm sure I'm going to jail. Not because I have anything on me, but because the other cop is gonna find the pipe on Sean and that would somehow make me guilty as well. The cop searching me finds nothing illegal. But he does find a single page from a porn magazine I had in my back pocket.
(Okay, let me explain the porn before I'm thought of as a fucking pervert: Its a picture of a naked chick, and naked chicks are hot. So yeah, I was probably a pervert. But thats not the point. The point is I had it for a very good reason- Jerry's drunk ass kept insisting for me to take it and I put it in my back pocket. Honest truth, swear to God.)
Officer 1 to nobody in particular: Porn.
Female Officer looking across car with Sean: What?
Officer 1 now holding it up where she can see: Porno.
He then lays it on my trunk like a piece of evidence.
At this point, I'm more embarrassed in this revelation to the female cop than I can recall ever being at any other point in my life. I'm not sure why. Its just porn. And I was just a guy. And its not the crazy fist up some midget girls anus kind either, it was just a classy Playboy spread photo. Absolutely nothing wrong with that. Although, I would have preferred the fist up some midget girls anus photo. I kid. I kid.
I wasn't embarrassed for long however, because it was then I realized Sean had been searched as well and that pipe had not been found. Which meant only one thing: It was in the car.
Officer 1: Mind if we search your car?
Fuck. We're screwed. And all because Sean didn't keep that damn thing and put it in my car.
Me: Yeah.
The Cop begins going through my floorboard, looking and feeling up under my seats. As each second that feels like an eternity passes by, I sickeningly wait for him to pull it out and then slap on the cuffs. All of a sudden he stands back up, and walks over to me, hands empty. The search is over, and somehow that pipe had fucking disappeared. I didn't know why, but I sure as shit didn't care.
Officer 1: Alright, mind telling me what you guys are doing out this evening?
I explain to him where we were, and who we were visiting. I also explain my erratic driving as not being familiar with that road (which is true, I rarely go through that way). I finish and he immediately hones in at the previous location.
Officer 1: The Down Towner huh? What room?
Me: 210.
Officer 1: Yeah, theres a known prostitution ring that hangs around room 213. Were you down there getting prostitutes?
The question itself is absurd, and I actually chuckle before answering no. Then I remembered I was the guy that had porn in his back pocket.
(Note: I later, and still wonder why, if it is a KNOWN prostitution ring, it was still going on without police intervention. I now kinda believe he was just fucking with me because of the porn.)
Officer 1: Alright, well stand here and I'll be right back.
He and the female officer (who only interacted with Sean on the other side) walk back to the explorer. I stare at Sean, he stares back. What the hell was going to happen now? Are we gonna get out of this? Or are they just discussing who gets first shot at splitting our melons with mag lites?
Officer 1 walks back up. He has my license and insurance card.
Officer 1: Heres the deal. You basically broke three traffic laws. We saw you making the turn at the Post Office, when you were speeding, and saw your improper lane change. Thats why we came after you. You also ran that stop sign.
Me: Yes sir. I'm really sorry about that, sir.
Officer 1: Mmkay. Well, since you cooperated we're gonna let you go with a warning this time. But you guys need to go straight home, I don't wanna see you out here again. And you should probably stay away from the Down Towner especially this late, okay?
Me: Yes sir.
Officer 1: Alright, drive safely and have a good night.
Sean and I get back in the car.
I sit there for a minute, get my breath, and let out a sigh of relief. Sean and I begin repeating the mantra "oh shit, that scared the shit out of me" ecetera. I crank the car up, and start driving. Once we're out of driving distance, I finally ask:
Me: Dude, where in the fuck did you put that pipe? Did you get rid of it somehow?
Sean: No dude. I put it on my nuts. (In other words, in his underwear.)
Me: ..
ME: I'm not going to hit that pipe until you soak that shit in bleach.
...........................................................
On a side note, I learned a lot of lessons that night. Don't make drug deals with strangers, especially the kind who look like vampires and who's eyes are as large as small cantaloupes. Never speed down town, and break all kinds of traffic laws if you do make a deal that happens to go bad. A dime sack isn't worth a possible case. And lastly, never carry porn.
Seriously though, I was a dumbass. And even though I'm trying to present this in a humorous way, there was a point to this and that is to not try and do stupid shit like I occasionally have. It wasn't cool at all. But it is funny as hell in hindsight.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
The Drugs, Crackheads, And Cops Story...
About two years back, I was an unwilling participant in a demonstration on just how neck deep in shit having drugs around can get you.
……………………………………..
My step brother Sean and I were visiting his Uncle Jerry late one night at the Down Towner motel where he had been living for a couple of weeks. The place itself was nice enough- especially if you were somehow able to forget about the fact it was (and still is) the most ghetto, seedy run down crack shack in the entire County. To put this in perspective, if the City Council passed a resolution to immediately fence up the complex without letting anyone out, the crime, drug and prostitution rate in our area would immediately drop by at least seventy percent drop overnight. But it was cheap, and apparently the only thing Jerry could afford at the time.
We’d been hanging out for a couple of hours, just talking, and listening to the radio. Jerry per usual had more alcohol in his system than most convenience stores have stocked on shelves. Needless to say, he was (again, still is) an alcoholic, and therefore would drink any liquid (rubbing alcohol, shoe polish if he couldn’t get beer or liquor) that might have the slightest odds at throwing his motor skills into a total nose diving tailspin. Anyway, he was wrecked, and while he continued to break world drinking records Sean and I smoked a blunt of some 420 I had on me. A few minutes after we’d put it out, there was a knock on the door. Jerry, being a habitual idiot with no love lost between his arch nemesis common sense, instantaneously and haphazardly began his stumble toward the door, while I rushed to stuff my stash into my pockets and sweep the seeds into the ashtray.
Not surprisingly, the guy outside turned out to be one of Jerry’s friendly, neighborhood bass head residents. Small talk ensued, as Jerry at this point would’ve attempted to strike up a conversation with a starving Siberian Tiger. Within a minute came the question.
Crackhead: So hey…any of you guys got something to party with? I’m looking for anything.
Jerry: YEEAHH man….oh Yeah….Brent here’s got some really good weed. It’ll fuck you up, HAHA…….
Crackhead: Really? You got some you could sale me?
Me: Uh, well, I don’t have that much. I could probably sell you a dime though? (Note: for future reference, don’t be a dumbass like myself and not only admit to having something but also offer to sale it to someone you’ve just met, I don’t care who it is.)
Crackhead: Hell yeah. Well look, my girlfriends down at our car. We’re fixing to go to the store and she’s got the money. Will you come down and let her see it?
Me: ….I guess….lets go down there Sean.
We both get up, but Crackhead stops us.
Crackhead: Um, she doesn’t like to meet lots of people.
*looks at me*
Crackhead: Can you just go man?
After thinking for a second, I uncharacteristically lower my intelligence level about one hundred points and agree.
We walk down to the car, where a dirty blonde headed chick who looks like she hadn’t had anything in her stomach in over a month but maybe some spunk from a couple of equally desperate guys who might have helped her get a ten spot closer to that next fix. The guy hops in the passenger seat.
Crackhead: This is my girl. She’s got the money, can we see it real quick?
I lean in the car, and drop the cigarette cellophane I’ve got it in on the guys lap.
Crackhead: Yeah, that’s cool man….hey back up…
*To this day I still don’t know why I did, but I did. Weed makes you stupid.*
As soon as I took a couple of steps back, the girl fired up the engine and before I could even process what was happening, threw it in reverse.
Me: Hey, what the fu….
They peel out. Not knowing what to do, I look up and see Sean looking down from the balcony.
Me: DUDE, THEY TOOK OFF WITH MY SHIT!
By the time I get half the sentence out of my mouth, Sean’s running to the car, yelling “lets go, lets go!”
We jump in my car, and even though they are already out of the parking lot and we have no idea which direction they went, we floor it out as well and get onto the main road to do a chase for ten dollars of pot, a little past midnight in the downtown area. As we get on the road, we think we see them turning past the post office up on the left. I gas it even harder, fly into the left lane and then into the turning lane, before cutting it onto the next road. To our left is a little road that goes down through a huge line of houses. To the right is more of downtown. I make a rapid fire decision that they probably didn’t go further into downtown and go left again, and continue my maniac like driving. I barely notice the stop sign ahead at the four way stop we’re cruising through. I ignore it so much that as I’m about there, I also fail to see the Dalton Police Ford Explorer to my left at the adjacent stop sign, also coming through. I stomp the brakes, they stomp there’s and as my heart attempts to thump its way out of my chest I go about twenty feet further. They get behind me, and hit the lights.
As I put it into park and cut off the car, I am momentarily comforted by the fact that I no longer have anything on me since it just got stolen. I say momentarily because Sean says the last thing I want to hear.
Sean: Oh shit…Brent man, I got my pipe in my pocket man!
Brent: You what?! FUCK, are you kidding? Dude. Get rid of it, get rid of it!
Sean: I ca…
I don’t hear the rest of his sentence, because the police get on their speaker.
Officer: Driver, passenger. Raise your hands so I can see them.
To Be Continued….
……………………………………..
My step brother Sean and I were visiting his Uncle Jerry late one night at the Down Towner motel where he had been living for a couple of weeks. The place itself was nice enough- especially if you were somehow able to forget about the fact it was (and still is) the most ghetto, seedy run down crack shack in the entire County. To put this in perspective, if the City Council passed a resolution to immediately fence up the complex without letting anyone out, the crime, drug and prostitution rate in our area would immediately drop by at least seventy percent drop overnight. But it was cheap, and apparently the only thing Jerry could afford at the time.
We’d been hanging out for a couple of hours, just talking, and listening to the radio. Jerry per usual had more alcohol in his system than most convenience stores have stocked on shelves. Needless to say, he was (again, still is) an alcoholic, and therefore would drink any liquid (rubbing alcohol, shoe polish if he couldn’t get beer or liquor) that might have the slightest odds at throwing his motor skills into a total nose diving tailspin. Anyway, he was wrecked, and while he continued to break world drinking records Sean and I smoked a blunt of some 420 I had on me. A few minutes after we’d put it out, there was a knock on the door. Jerry, being a habitual idiot with no love lost between his arch nemesis common sense, instantaneously and haphazardly began his stumble toward the door, while I rushed to stuff my stash into my pockets and sweep the seeds into the ashtray.
Not surprisingly, the guy outside turned out to be one of Jerry’s friendly, neighborhood bass head residents. Small talk ensued, as Jerry at this point would’ve attempted to strike up a conversation with a starving Siberian Tiger. Within a minute came the question.
Crackhead: So hey…any of you guys got something to party with? I’m looking for anything.
Jerry: YEEAHH man….oh Yeah….Brent here’s got some really good weed. It’ll fuck you up, HAHA…….
Crackhead: Really? You got some you could sale me?
Me: Uh, well, I don’t have that much. I could probably sell you a dime though? (Note: for future reference, don’t be a dumbass like myself and not only admit to having something but also offer to sale it to someone you’ve just met, I don’t care who it is.)
Crackhead: Hell yeah. Well look, my girlfriends down at our car. We’re fixing to go to the store and she’s got the money. Will you come down and let her see it?
Me: ….I guess….lets go down there Sean.
We both get up, but Crackhead stops us.
Crackhead: Um, she doesn’t like to meet lots of people.
*looks at me*
Crackhead: Can you just go man?
After thinking for a second, I uncharacteristically lower my intelligence level about one hundred points and agree.
We walk down to the car, where a dirty blonde headed chick who looks like she hadn’t had anything in her stomach in over a month but maybe some spunk from a couple of equally desperate guys who might have helped her get a ten spot closer to that next fix. The guy hops in the passenger seat.
Crackhead: This is my girl. She’s got the money, can we see it real quick?
I lean in the car, and drop the cigarette cellophane I’ve got it in on the guys lap.
Crackhead: Yeah, that’s cool man….hey back up…
*To this day I still don’t know why I did, but I did. Weed makes you stupid.*
As soon as I took a couple of steps back, the girl fired up the engine and before I could even process what was happening, threw it in reverse.
Me: Hey, what the fu….
They peel out. Not knowing what to do, I look up and see Sean looking down from the balcony.
Me: DUDE, THEY TOOK OFF WITH MY SHIT!
By the time I get half the sentence out of my mouth, Sean’s running to the car, yelling “lets go, lets go!”
We jump in my car, and even though they are already out of the parking lot and we have no idea which direction they went, we floor it out as well and get onto the main road to do a chase for ten dollars of pot, a little past midnight in the downtown area. As we get on the road, we think we see them turning past the post office up on the left. I gas it even harder, fly into the left lane and then into the turning lane, before cutting it onto the next road. To our left is a little road that goes down through a huge line of houses. To the right is more of downtown. I make a rapid fire decision that they probably didn’t go further into downtown and go left again, and continue my maniac like driving. I barely notice the stop sign ahead at the four way stop we’re cruising through. I ignore it so much that as I’m about there, I also fail to see the Dalton Police Ford Explorer to my left at the adjacent stop sign, also coming through. I stomp the brakes, they stomp there’s and as my heart attempts to thump its way out of my chest I go about twenty feet further. They get behind me, and hit the lights.
As I put it into park and cut off the car, I am momentarily comforted by the fact that I no longer have anything on me since it just got stolen. I say momentarily because Sean says the last thing I want to hear.
Sean: Oh shit…Brent man, I got my pipe in my pocket man!
Brent: You what?! FUCK, are you kidding? Dude. Get rid of it, get rid of it!
Sean: I ca…
I don’t hear the rest of his sentence, because the police get on their speaker.
Officer: Driver, passenger. Raise your hands so I can see them.
To Be Continued….
Monday, September 1, 2008
Visit This Site....Forum...Fuck it, Both Of Them...
www.dogeatdogsite.com/forum
www.dogeatdogsite.com
The only message board I pretty much visit and actively post on at this time. Go register or check it out.
www.dogeatdogsite.com
The only message board I pretty much visit and actively post on at this time. Go register or check it out.
The Day I Lost My Virginity Pt 2: Conclusion
I arrived at Kayla's house about two in the afternoon. She lived in a medium, suprisingly decent house directly beside some kind of business. The inside was slightly more messy, with the usual stuff you'd expect to see in a place heavy metal freaks live: Xbox, sloppily sitting in the floor surrounded by stacks of games. Scented candles. Cd's scattered liberally across every surface (of which the only artist I recognized was Marilyn Manson and Cradle of Filth). A little small skull, presumably from Hot Topic. Stoner couch. Stoner smoking device sitting on little table beside stoner couch.
She was nice enough when we first started talking and sat down, but it was definitely awkward. Obviously, I have no idea what was going through her head, but I knew what was going on in mine: a nonstop train of panicked, nervous thoughts, musings and observations.
For details sake, it went pretty much like this:
1- "Well, I'm here and her husband still hasn't jumped out of the closet with a hockey mask and a meat cleaver yet. This is a good sign. Or maybe it isn't. Maybe he's going to wait until we start fucking, and then attack out of nowhere."
2- "Shes hot (Ive now uploaded a pic of her at the end of this blog post). I can't believe she actually wants to fuck me. Actually, does she? Maybe shes really toying with me, and just wanted to see if I'd ride three hours plus for the sole purpose of sticking my dick inside her. I mean shit, we both know thats why I'm here. I mean, this could all be an act. Any minute, shes going to tell me I'm a pervert loser freak or some crazy shit, or worse, tell me that on second thought I'm too fucking ugly, or that she has a headache, or both. If I get that headache line, I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. Anything but that."
3- "What if this act turns out the other way around, and there is no husband, its just her but shes some satanist psycho bitch who's gonna get me naked, tie me to the bed on premise of being super freaky, start fucking me, and then right before I get off, will jam her fingers into my eye sockets, and then do all sorts of weird torture shit. Probably sever my dick with a breadknife and eat it. I'm never going to say the phrase "eat my dick again" if I live."
4- "On the bright side, shes still hot. Blah, I'm just paranoid. I need to smoke some weed, I'll be fine".
I break out what I brought, and toss it at her.
"Check it out, some pretty good stuff."
Her- "Cool. Lets smoke some."
We grab the aformentioned smoking device, and five minutes later I am in full realization that smoking weed was the dumbest thing I could do as I'm now completely fried, now with 100 percent more terror and anxiousness. I try to make idle conversation. I do okay, but probably came off retarded because she kept laughing at everything. Or maybe I was funny. Regardless, If anything, I certainly had my doors blown off.
Finally, after more small talk and eventually deciding that listening to music would be a good idea (Marilyn Manson, since some of his stuff was tolerable...'Antichrist Superstar' in case anyone cares which album), its getting later on and I know that her husband gets off work in just roughly two hours. And, even though I've tried to put the topic on the back burner throughout the first bit of my arrival, its pretty much boiling down to now or never. I can tell shes wondering if/when I'll even try anything or bring the subject up. I refuse at first, but then predictably, we hit that silence, where she looks at me with coy eyes and a tiny smile on her face. I return her smile with an unintentional resemblance to a deer in the headlights.
*Note: Before telling the next event, I need to explain something so it makes sense. One of her and her hub's rules was "no sex in the bed". Apparently, a bed is more sacred than their vows, but okay. So going there, the premise was fucking in the backseat of my car. An idea I didn't really like after getting there.*
K: So...lets see your car. I didn't get a good look at it earlier.
Me: Oh sure. Yeah lets do that.
We walk outside to my car, and get in the front seats. Silence again ensues.
K: Well, You wanna fuck me?
Me: Uhh...maybe.
K: Maybe huh? You drove all the way up here didn't you?
Me: Yeah...but...I dunno. Can I just get a blowjob or something? I'm not sure I want to actually have sex.
K: No..I don't want someone elses cum in my mouth besides my husband... (laying hand on my thigh)...but I already told you we can fuck.
*Note: I get a boner from the touch and her cum in mouth phrase. My heart goes in my throat. I can't decide which organ is throbbing harder.*
I now go into excuse mode.
Me: Well, that sucks...I wanna have sex actually, but this car is kinda cramped. And its outside, and to be honest I'm kinda uncomfortable"
*Note: I forgot some of the things said after this, so theres a slight gap, but basically it came down to my trying to get out of it until she comes up with the idea of doing it in the bedroom where theres no bed, and in the floor. Which she should've told me we could do in the first fucking place*
We go into the room. It is mostly empty, except for, I swear to God, a desk/chair combo like the ones used in elementary classes or something. Apparently, I was about to get schooled. I sit in the floor indian style. She shuts the door halfway because I'm of course insecure and nervous, and want the lights off but of course we still have to see somewhat.
She sits down in front of me, and scoots into my face.
I briefly contemplate what to do next, then think "fuck it" and lean forward. We start kissing, sloppily on my part, pretty expert and nimble on her part.
A minute or two later and she takes my hands, and places them on her ribs, and says to "have a little fun". I do, groping her all around like the clueless virgin I am while she splits time kissing me, and continuing to smile this all knowing smile.
K: Want me to get naked?
Me: Yes I do.
She pulls her black dress over her head. She has no panties or bra. BAM, there it is. And I'm in shock.
K: So, take your pants off.
*I strip down to my boxers and T.*
K: Got a condom?
Me: Uhhhhhhhhhhh...no.
*At that moment, I was so scared I was almost relieved when I remembered that I hadnt even thought of that...even though I was clearly told from the start I had to have one*
K: *pause*...I think my husbands got some somewhere.
Sure enough, she finds a pack of condoms (Unopened and untampered with, just so you know).
.........................
Okay look, Im pretty sure everyone knows what happens: I get naked, she puts on my condom for me since I'm again clueless, and we fuck. No need for intricate details, although just for laughs and my own twisted pleasure of mentioning it for God knows what reason, the moment in time it actually set it on me that I was finally getting some ass was when I heard the steady slap of my balls against her. That was fucking awesome.
Picture..
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v492/flamechampion/Pict0327.jpg
She was nice enough when we first started talking and sat down, but it was definitely awkward. Obviously, I have no idea what was going through her head, but I knew what was going on in mine: a nonstop train of panicked, nervous thoughts, musings and observations.
For details sake, it went pretty much like this:
1- "Well, I'm here and her husband still hasn't jumped out of the closet with a hockey mask and a meat cleaver yet. This is a good sign. Or maybe it isn't. Maybe he's going to wait until we start fucking, and then attack out of nowhere."
2- "Shes hot (Ive now uploaded a pic of her at the end of this blog post). I can't believe she actually wants to fuck me. Actually, does she? Maybe shes really toying with me, and just wanted to see if I'd ride three hours plus for the sole purpose of sticking my dick inside her. I mean shit, we both know thats why I'm here. I mean, this could all be an act. Any minute, shes going to tell me I'm a pervert loser freak or some crazy shit, or worse, tell me that on second thought I'm too fucking ugly, or that she has a headache, or both. If I get that headache line, I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. Anything but that."
3- "What if this act turns out the other way around, and there is no husband, its just her but shes some satanist psycho bitch who's gonna get me naked, tie me to the bed on premise of being super freaky, start fucking me, and then right before I get off, will jam her fingers into my eye sockets, and then do all sorts of weird torture shit. Probably sever my dick with a breadknife and eat it. I'm never going to say the phrase "eat my dick again" if I live."
4- "On the bright side, shes still hot. Blah, I'm just paranoid. I need to smoke some weed, I'll be fine".
I break out what I brought, and toss it at her.
"Check it out, some pretty good stuff."
Her- "Cool. Lets smoke some."
We grab the aformentioned smoking device, and five minutes later I am in full realization that smoking weed was the dumbest thing I could do as I'm now completely fried, now with 100 percent more terror and anxiousness. I try to make idle conversation. I do okay, but probably came off retarded because she kept laughing at everything. Or maybe I was funny. Regardless, If anything, I certainly had my doors blown off.
Finally, after more small talk and eventually deciding that listening to music would be a good idea (Marilyn Manson, since some of his stuff was tolerable...'Antichrist Superstar' in case anyone cares which album), its getting later on and I know that her husband gets off work in just roughly two hours. And, even though I've tried to put the topic on the back burner throughout the first bit of my arrival, its pretty much boiling down to now or never. I can tell shes wondering if/when I'll even try anything or bring the subject up. I refuse at first, but then predictably, we hit that silence, where she looks at me with coy eyes and a tiny smile on her face. I return her smile with an unintentional resemblance to a deer in the headlights.
*Note: Before telling the next event, I need to explain something so it makes sense. One of her and her hub's rules was "no sex in the bed". Apparently, a bed is more sacred than their vows, but okay. So going there, the premise was fucking in the backseat of my car. An idea I didn't really like after getting there.*
K: So...lets see your car. I didn't get a good look at it earlier.
Me: Oh sure. Yeah lets do that.
We walk outside to my car, and get in the front seats. Silence again ensues.
K: Well, You wanna fuck me?
Me: Uhh...maybe.
K: Maybe huh? You drove all the way up here didn't you?
Me: Yeah...but...I dunno. Can I just get a blowjob or something? I'm not sure I want to actually have sex.
K: No..I don't want someone elses cum in my mouth besides my husband... (laying hand on my thigh)...but I already told you we can fuck.
*Note: I get a boner from the touch and her cum in mouth phrase. My heart goes in my throat. I can't decide which organ is throbbing harder.*
I now go into excuse mode.
Me: Well, that sucks...I wanna have sex actually, but this car is kinda cramped. And its outside, and to be honest I'm kinda uncomfortable"
*Note: I forgot some of the things said after this, so theres a slight gap, but basically it came down to my trying to get out of it until she comes up with the idea of doing it in the bedroom where theres no bed, and in the floor. Which she should've told me we could do in the first fucking place*
We go into the room. It is mostly empty, except for, I swear to God, a desk/chair combo like the ones used in elementary classes or something. Apparently, I was about to get schooled. I sit in the floor indian style. She shuts the door halfway because I'm of course insecure and nervous, and want the lights off but of course we still have to see somewhat.
She sits down in front of me, and scoots into my face.
I briefly contemplate what to do next, then think "fuck it" and lean forward. We start kissing, sloppily on my part, pretty expert and nimble on her part.
A minute or two later and she takes my hands, and places them on her ribs, and says to "have a little fun". I do, groping her all around like the clueless virgin I am while she splits time kissing me, and continuing to smile this all knowing smile.
K: Want me to get naked?
Me: Yes I do.
She pulls her black dress over her head. She has no panties or bra. BAM, there it is. And I'm in shock.
K: So, take your pants off.
*I strip down to my boxers and T.*
K: Got a condom?
Me: Uhhhhhhhhhhh...no.
*At that moment, I was so scared I was almost relieved when I remembered that I hadnt even thought of that...even though I was clearly told from the start I had to have one*
K: *pause*...I think my husbands got some somewhere.
Sure enough, she finds a pack of condoms (Unopened and untampered with, just so you know).
.........................
Okay look, Im pretty sure everyone knows what happens: I get naked, she puts on my condom for me since I'm again clueless, and we fuck. No need for intricate details, although just for laughs and my own twisted pleasure of mentioning it for God knows what reason, the moment in time it actually set it on me that I was finally getting some ass was when I heard the steady slap of my balls against her. That was fucking awesome.
Picture..
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v492/flamechampion/Pict0327.jpg
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The Day I Lost My Virginity Pt 1
I'd met Kayla on a free dating website (She was 19, in case anyone including the FBI is curious). We had been talking for a few months on IM; after a while, mostly due in part to frequent conversations consisting mostly of her shameless flirting and sending me revealing Jpeg images, with my role panning out eerily similar to the hapless down on his sex life luck teen Jonah Hill plays in virtually every one of Judd Apatow's bimonthly comedy flicks, we decided to hang out. Fuck, the plot of my situation practically unraveled like an bastard afterbirth from one of his failed scripts (or a future classic work, depending on how optimistic I am at any given time that this story's worth the megabytes its sucking up).
The plot? Simple and predictable: I had plans on getting laid, feeling like a man, and most importantly, finally canceling my ever pesky V club subscription. Not only that, but it was going to go down with the type of girl that can most often be found in one of my weird ass fantasies: some pale corpse tissue goth that cuts herself, loves Heavy Metal and smokes weed. Hey, judge if you like, but thats probably as close to Christina Ricci that I'm getting, and theres absolutely nothing to deviant, sick, or just fucking despicable I wouldn't do to just to take her out for the evening. Shit, I'd smother my hand in jelly and fist my grandmother for a chance just to take her out to dinner.
All masochistic jam incest aside, this was it. This was my moment to experience something that every one of my friends had bragged about and I was set.
Set for everything in fact, until that crucial plot twist: She was married.
That was the bad news. The good news was that she claimed this to be an open relationship, and that if her or her husband talked to someone they liked, then protected sex with them was okay. However, being the overly paranoid person I am, I was unsure of how truthful she was and that I'd feel better if I could somehow be told by him that this was alright- without it having to happen face to face.
She has an answer to this with an link to his profile on that same website. I ask her to see if he will email me to make sure this is legit and I don't run the risk of this coming to an disagreeable end- one possible outcome in my mind being that he could blow my face off with a handgun.
She agrees. While waiting for an email after he got home from work that evening or the next day, I considered what I was basically doing: Waiting for a husband to email me, specifically giving permission for me to fuck his wife.
The next day came, and I had a message in my inbox. Quoted verbatim (Yes, I kept it):
"Hey man, I do not care if Kayla hangs out with you and has sex or whatever and I promise I wont go apeshit. Im trying to see someone soon myself."
I stared at my screen for a while, splitting my time trying to process the fact of this unlikely green light to assist this girl in totally violating her sacred oaths, and all just because I wanted to get off with the help of a willing female- as well as still being consumed with horror movie scenario worries like how they could be some modern day Bonnie and Clyde sex freak cannibals and wanted to try out a fatty.
But, in the end, woes and worries still hammering against the interior of my mentality, I went anyway.
The plot? Simple and predictable: I had plans on getting laid, feeling like a man, and most importantly, finally canceling my ever pesky V club subscription. Not only that, but it was going to go down with the type of girl that can most often be found in one of my weird ass fantasies: some pale corpse tissue goth that cuts herself, loves Heavy Metal and smokes weed. Hey, judge if you like, but thats probably as close to Christina Ricci that I'm getting, and theres absolutely nothing to deviant, sick, or just fucking despicable I wouldn't do to just to take her out for the evening. Shit, I'd smother my hand in jelly and fist my grandmother for a chance just to take her out to dinner.
All masochistic jam incest aside, this was it. This was my moment to experience something that every one of my friends had bragged about and I was set.
Set for everything in fact, until that crucial plot twist: She was married.
That was the bad news. The good news was that she claimed this to be an open relationship, and that if her or her husband talked to someone they liked, then protected sex with them was okay. However, being the overly paranoid person I am, I was unsure of how truthful she was and that I'd feel better if I could somehow be told by him that this was alright- without it having to happen face to face.
She has an answer to this with an link to his profile on that same website. I ask her to see if he will email me to make sure this is legit and I don't run the risk of this coming to an disagreeable end- one possible outcome in my mind being that he could blow my face off with a handgun.
She agrees. While waiting for an email after he got home from work that evening or the next day, I considered what I was basically doing: Waiting for a husband to email me, specifically giving permission for me to fuck his wife.
The next day came, and I had a message in my inbox. Quoted verbatim (Yes, I kept it):
"Hey man, I do not care if Kayla hangs out with you and has sex or whatever and I promise I wont go apeshit. Im trying to see someone soon myself."
I stared at my screen for a while, splitting my time trying to process the fact of this unlikely green light to assist this girl in totally violating her sacred oaths, and all just because I wanted to get off with the help of a willing female- as well as still being consumed with horror movie scenario worries like how they could be some modern day Bonnie and Clyde sex freak cannibals and wanted to try out a fatty.
But, in the end, woes and worries still hammering against the interior of my mentality, I went anyway.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
This site was created for two reasons.
1- Recently various friends, associates and law enforcement agents have brought it to my attention that I'm in severe need of developing and finding myself more constructive hobbies to occupy myself with during the often copious amounts of free time that somehow manages the feat of habitually tumbling into the grasp of my Devil's Playground hellfire limited edition winter mitts- particulary the officers of our local police department. Apparently, taking a shit in an five gallon bucket and dumping its contents over the edge of an interstate overpass during rush hour is frowned on and possibly "an endangerment to the public".
Whatever, that sixty three car pileup was better than the movies. Like The Fast and The Furious, but instead of Paul Walker it stars old people, young "Im better than you" jock fuckasses in their 5 foot high jeeps and an extremely paranoid meth addict with ten pounds of stolen ephendrine in his trunk.
2- I figure other people might as well learn, gawk, and just generally get a fucking laugh now and then when they've also got some free time on their hands but somehow end up surfing the net. So here you go. If nothing else, I guarantee you an interesting and fun read.
1- Recently various friends, associates and law enforcement agents have brought it to my attention that I'm in severe need of developing and finding myself more constructive hobbies to occupy myself with during the often copious amounts of free time that somehow manages the feat of habitually tumbling into the grasp of my Devil's Playground hellfire limited edition winter mitts- particulary the officers of our local police department. Apparently, taking a shit in an five gallon bucket and dumping its contents over the edge of an interstate overpass during rush hour is frowned on and possibly "an endangerment to the public".
Whatever, that sixty three car pileup was better than the movies. Like The Fast and The Furious, but instead of Paul Walker it stars old people, young "Im better than you" jock fuckasses in their 5 foot high jeeps and an extremely paranoid meth addict with ten pounds of stolen ephendrine in his trunk.
2- I figure other people might as well learn, gawk, and just generally get a fucking laugh now and then when they've also got some free time on their hands but somehow end up surfing the net. So here you go. If nothing else, I guarantee you an interesting and fun read.
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