Because Ruben and I were dangerous destructive forces when we drank together, there was a time when we started taking road trips to neighboring cities to go out.
Yes, it was getting to the point where some girls would see one of us coming, and be like, "That's the guy who I punched last weekend, we need to GET THE FUCK OUT!"
I'd just laugh at them and say, "You pussy, I don't even remember you. I was going to talk to your hot friend, anyway. I'd probably be nice to her."
I'd get a smack on the arm, and smile. "Besides, I was drinking Absinthe last time. Absinthe brings out my inner asshole. Tonight I'm sticking to rum. Rum makes me happy. What's your name?"
I can be charming. I choose not to be most of the time.
We both felt like we needed some fresh faces to make angry. So, the road trips began.
My brother was going to university just a few hours away, so we usually ended up heading that direction. University girls are always good targets, and there's this attitude of "I'm in university, so I'm clearly better than you" that I just LOVE tearing to shreds.
One time we went up, Ruben and I cracked open some road beers just as our driver, Doc, got pulled over for speeding.
Before we'd left city limits.
We both nonchalantly put our beer beside our feet, and sat quietly while Doc accepted the speeding ticket. I could tell he was nervous. As we started to drive away, Doc started to freak out as us a little. "Holy shit, you guys, if he'd seen either one of your drinks I would be FUCKED!"
We were maybe 100 yards away from the cop car and Ruben picked his can back up and took another long sip. "Chill, man."
He's always been a man of few words.
On this particular trip, Ruben started talking about work. I tried to change the subject a few times, because I know the end-game on nights when work becomes the primary topic.
Angry Ruben.
We got kicked out of three night clubs, a strip club, and a Denny's.
Angry Ruben is more dangerous than Drunk Ruben. And has issues with authority figures. Bouncers included. And, since he's a rugby player, and is built like a brick shit house, also isn't concerned or even a little bothered by the possibility of a physical altercation.
We ended up at the Denny's without a single pull. It's hard to focus on getting girls to bounce with you when you're trying to stop a bag of muscles from making cottage cheese out of a bouncer's face.
And Doc was pretty much useless. He'd tell a girl he was a doctor, and she'd be genuinely interested. But he had no game beyond that, so no conversation of his lasted more than a couple minutes
I had somehow managed to get obliterated, though. And when I saw two girls sitting by themselves at the restaurant, I simply sat down with them. Ruben and Doc shrugged their shoulders and sat down, too.
Doc said nothing. Ruben just flashed a grin every time they looked at him. But not a normal grin. The kind of grin that shows all your back teeth, and kind of forms your lips into a rectangle. Attractive.
I did ALL the work.
Which is how they ended up in the hotel room with us.
You're welcome, you fucking bastards.
I was too drunk to get it up, so I made out with both girls, and handed them off to Doc. Then grabbed another six pack of beer and said, "I'll be in the hot tub. Have fun fucking."
A few road trips later, and the bouncers at the strip club knew us by name.
Of course, we were usually the only guys there who could get every stripper not on stage sitting on our laps. So. We kind of stood out a little.
My brother's friends started to hear about us, and we decided to do a full fledged party with all his buddies from school, including a group of gay guys from the theatre classes. They invited their hot friends to impress us. I saw easy targets.
I didn't pay for a drink all night. The girls took turns buying me shots they thought would do me in, not realizing that I was probably the most seasoned party drinker they'd ever met.
I dragged one of the girls to the dance floor. Tight bodied blonde girl with a blurry face.
It took me a second to realize I was too drunk to focus.
Whatever.
I turned her around and shoved her ass against my crotch, and felt my way to the truth. As I went, I checked off the list in my head, "Tight ass, flat stomach. Decent tits, but the bra is in the way to tell for sure. I'll just go under."
I didn't realize that I was flashing her tits to the whole crowd in order to get a good feel. Nor would I have cared. "Nice. I bet she's shaved, too."
I went down her pants and started fingering her on the dance floor. "Shaved, and not wearing panties. Very nice."
She got her gay friend to dance with us, to provide a visual shield so I could continue my shenanigans uninterrupted. I made out with her neck and collar bone, and fingered her to orgasm right there on the dance floor.
I pulled away from her and turned her around to face me, licked my fingers and said, "That was fun, let's do shots."
I turned around to see my brother with his jaw hanging open like he'd just seen a naked woman for the first time.
The blonde wrapped her arms around me from behind and started feeling up my chest. I said something like, "Hey now, shots first," and broke away. Put my arm across the shoulder of my still-in-shock brother and walked to the bar with him. More shots were had.
We all ended up at the Denny's, where I found Ruben sitting amongst the theatre gays. He saw me and said, "THERE YOU ARE! Dude, I lost my phone, and I thought these guys were going to rape me."
We ordered food.
Ruben's meal never showed up. Could have possibly been since he relentlessly mocked our waitress, and she was ignoring him on purpose.
We were all done eating, and his still hadn't arrived. He banged his fists on the table, and spilt my Sprite.
Almost on queue, a guy sitting alone two tables over got up to use the restroom.
Ruben seized the moment and walked over. Ate the REST of the food on the guy's plate, and returned to our table.
Our server came by, and he grabbed her arm. "I still want my food, but I'm not paying for it. It's been over an hour."
The lonely man returned to find his empty plate, which had previously been mostly full. The look on his face was priceless. We all laughed, and the server thought we were laughing at her. All embarrassed, she said, "I have to ask my manager," and fled.
The next day, I got a phone call from Ruben's phone while taking a shit. I answered anyway, and the bouncer on the other end arranged to come drop off the phone.
I returned to the diner table where Ruben was sitting and told him the good news.
He leapt from his chair and clipped the girl sitting next to him in the shoulder. Unphased/giving not a fuck, he yelled, "That's UNBELIEVABLE!!"
We all went home happy.
Thursday, 20 December 2012
Tuesday, 27 November 2012
Blessed infidelity
The story is the same every time.
Not that I'm complaining.
Married women. Who are more sexually inclined or have a stronger libido or whatever than their stupid fucking retards of husbands that don't put out.
How does that even happen?
There's medication for these things.
Like take a fucking percocet, some red bull, and a viagra and cheer the fuck up. And then bang your wife.
Whatever.
I'd met one such neglected wife through a friend, and even though I had no original intentions to do anything with her, it became obvious that she was severely interested in me.
I didn't act on it. I had never taken a married woman home before. And, I don't want to get the reputation of the sleazy guy who bangs everyone's wife.
But, I saw her again a couple times.
And the more I thought about it, the more I rationalized it. Her cheating on her husband had nothing to do with me. That was between her and her husband. Makes sense.
Still makes sense to me, now. I don't seek out married women, but if I take one home, I don't beat myself up about it.
I was having another one of those nights, like in the last entry about the rooftop club. I was on a roll. And I had been texting a few girls throughout night. NeglectedWife was one of them.
I had specifically asked one of my hotter wing woman friends to hit the clubs with me that night because I was in a bit of a rut and I knew she would kick my ass into gear if I wasn't making out with girls all over the damn bar.
She's the kind of woman that improves your social status just because she's talking to you. Sexy, and hot as fuck.
I had a girl come up to me and say, "Oh my god, I think your friend is so hot."
I said, "You should make out with her. She'd love that."
Makeout commence.
I laughed.
The guy who was following her around like her puppy dog, trying to get her attention, looked at me with that look of disbelief I've seen so many times.
I smiled at him and said, "Get used to it buddy. I can do this shit all night."
Then grabbed some hot face that I had seen from the corner of my eye and brought it within a few inches of mine. I asked her name. Who cares. Then made out with her.
She grabbed me around the shoulders and started creaming her panties.
By the time I stopped kissing her, my wing woman was back. She asked me what my new friend's name was. I said I had no idea, but that I kind of wanted to see her naked.
She orgasmed standing up.
I grabbed her hand and took her to the dance floor.
Wash. Repeat.
WingWoman high fived me every time I found her in the crowd again. "Holy shit, dude! You are on FIRE tonight!"
I checked my text messages.
NeglectedWife had texted asking where I was because she wanted to come meet me out.
When she showed up, I made a comment about how tight her dress was. "I'm surprised I can't see your panty line."
She put her hands in my back pockets and said, "That's because I'm not wearing any."
Uh. Win.
We had a few drinks and were having an awesome time when she got all serious for a second.
"I don't know where this is going. But I want you to know that if something happens, my husband will never know about it."
"Well then, I'm going outside to grab a cab. Then I'm taking you to my place to bang the shit out of you."
"I'll go grab my stuff," she said. "Meet me outside."
Yup.
Not that I'm complaining.
Married women. Who are more sexually inclined or have a stronger libido or whatever than their stupid fucking retards of husbands that don't put out.
How does that even happen?
There's medication for these things.
Like take a fucking percocet, some red bull, and a viagra and cheer the fuck up. And then bang your wife.
Whatever.
I'd met one such neglected wife through a friend, and even though I had no original intentions to do anything with her, it became obvious that she was severely interested in me.
I didn't act on it. I had never taken a married woman home before. And, I don't want to get the reputation of the sleazy guy who bangs everyone's wife.
But, I saw her again a couple times.
And the more I thought about it, the more I rationalized it. Her cheating on her husband had nothing to do with me. That was between her and her husband. Makes sense.
Still makes sense to me, now. I don't seek out married women, but if I take one home, I don't beat myself up about it.
I was having another one of those nights, like in the last entry about the rooftop club. I was on a roll. And I had been texting a few girls throughout night. NeglectedWife was one of them.
I had specifically asked one of my hotter wing woman friends to hit the clubs with me that night because I was in a bit of a rut and I knew she would kick my ass into gear if I wasn't making out with girls all over the damn bar.
She's the kind of woman that improves your social status just because she's talking to you. Sexy, and hot as fuck.
I had a girl come up to me and say, "Oh my god, I think your friend is so hot."
I said, "You should make out with her. She'd love that."
Makeout commence.
I laughed.
The guy who was following her around like her puppy dog, trying to get her attention, looked at me with that look of disbelief I've seen so many times.
I smiled at him and said, "Get used to it buddy. I can do this shit all night."
Then grabbed some hot face that I had seen from the corner of my eye and brought it within a few inches of mine. I asked her name. Who cares. Then made out with her.
She grabbed me around the shoulders and started creaming her panties.
By the time I stopped kissing her, my wing woman was back. She asked me what my new friend's name was. I said I had no idea, but that I kind of wanted to see her naked.
She orgasmed standing up.
I grabbed her hand and took her to the dance floor.
Wash. Repeat.
WingWoman high fived me every time I found her in the crowd again. "Holy shit, dude! You are on FIRE tonight!"
I checked my text messages.
NeglectedWife had texted asking where I was because she wanted to come meet me out.
When she showed up, I made a comment about how tight her dress was. "I'm surprised I can't see your panty line."
She put her hands in my back pockets and said, "That's because I'm not wearing any."
Uh. Win.
We had a few drinks and were having an awesome time when she got all serious for a second.
"I don't know where this is going. But I want you to know that if something happens, my husband will never know about it."
"Well then, I'm going outside to grab a cab. Then I'm taking you to my place to bang the shit out of you."
"I'll go grab my stuff," she said. "Meet me outside."
Yup.
Tuesday, 20 November 2012
Things are going my way
Have you ever had one of those nights where everything just works? Where you're in an awesome mood, and everyone you talk to just does what you say? Even if you say, "Make out with me, put your hand down my pants"?
I have. Doesn't happen all the time, but when the stars align, and I haven't had so much alcohol all I can think about is standing up straight, it happens.
And it's magical.
Like watching unicorns in slow motion (thank you mushrooms), winning a 'das boot' chugging contest, or finding the singular picture of Taylor Swift topless.
Two nights in particular stand out in my mind.
1) I can remember them.
2) They were awesome.
3) One of them ended well.
The first was last summer. I had heard about a new bar in town and wanted to check it out, so I invited a few friends to meet me there.
It was an outdoor bar on the roof of a downtown building. The crowd was incredibly sexy, and we got there just at that perfect time - you know, right before the huge line, but not so early the place is empty.
When I started gaming (every girl there), everything just went right. I was literally collecting groups of women, and making them compete with each other.
I'd go back and sit with my friends, and there would be two groups right behind me. It was hilarious to watch them try to out-qualify each other as to why they should be the ones to join me at the booth.
But, as soon as it looked like one group was getting close to a win, I'd wander off and leave them there.
And go get some more.
At one point, my buddy Agent said, "Dude, you need to stop adding, and start subtracting. Figure out which ones you're taking home tonight."
I switched up my game and started narrowing down the prospects.
When I picked one, I told Agent and his girlfriend to come dance with us.
There we are, grinding on the dance floor, and Agent looks down at the girl I'm with, then at his girlfriend, then at me and yells, "Manual SCISSOR!"
So we each grabbed a leg of the girl we were with and pushed the girls together crotch first.
Yep.
Manual scissor on the dance floor.
I'm pretty sure their labia actually touched. Neither of them were wearing much.
Nothing like mashing some clits together under the summer moonlight.
When we went back to the booth, we had to shoo away other girls that were waiting for my return.
Agent farted in one of their faces because she had sat down, and was not willing to get up until I talked to her.
She went away.
I looked at Agent and said, "Meet me downstairs in a few minutes. I have to take a giant bar duece. Don't leave..." I said, pointing at the girl I'd picked, "without her."
I saw understanding on his face.
No, this isn't another shit story. My bar shit went surprisingly well. And then I went down to the entrance to wait for everyone. So I waited.
And waited.
I sat with a couple of girls that were near the stairs so I could see my friends coming. Made out with both of them, and judged them on their kissing talent. They compared notes, and then I made out with them again.
And I still waited.
Until the bar was closing down, I waited at the stairs making out with more hot women.
It was awful. I hate waiting.
Finally, they all showed up as the lights were coming on.
Except, the girl who I was taking home was no longer able to walk. Agent, in all his wisdom, decided to do shots with her until I returned. Apparently unaware that I was not returning. She was tripping on her shoes, falling over every few steps, and basically being carried by Agent.
And I don't mean 'oops, I'm tipsy' falling over. Like, falling on her face falling over. Her elbows were a mess.
I looked at Agent. "Well, I can't fuck her NOW. What the hell did you do to her?"
She apologized for being so drunk and fell over.
Agent grabbed her top and pulled it down to her navel. "BOOBIES!" She laughed and pulled the fabric back over her nipples.
And fell over.
I didn't even crack a smile. Or help her up.
All I was thinking was, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK."
Yah. No pussy for me, even after an awesome night like that.
It was like watching 'The Sixth Sense' or all six seasons of 'LOST'. It all seemed to be going so well, and then... WHAT THE FUCK?
The second night I remember was the first time I slept with a married woman.
But that's another story...
I have. Doesn't happen all the time, but when the stars align, and I haven't had so much alcohol all I can think about is standing up straight, it happens.
And it's magical.
Like watching unicorns in slow motion (thank you mushrooms), winning a 'das boot' chugging contest, or finding the singular picture of Taylor Swift topless.
 |
| Yah, it's her |
1) I can remember them.
2) They were awesome.
3) One of them ended well.
The first was last summer. I had heard about a new bar in town and wanted to check it out, so I invited a few friends to meet me there.
It was an outdoor bar on the roof of a downtown building. The crowd was incredibly sexy, and we got there just at that perfect time - you know, right before the huge line, but not so early the place is empty.
When I started gaming (every girl there), everything just went right. I was literally collecting groups of women, and making them compete with each other.
I'd go back and sit with my friends, and there would be two groups right behind me. It was hilarious to watch them try to out-qualify each other as to why they should be the ones to join me at the booth.
But, as soon as it looked like one group was getting close to a win, I'd wander off and leave them there.
And go get some more.
At one point, my buddy Agent said, "Dude, you need to stop adding, and start subtracting. Figure out which ones you're taking home tonight."
I switched up my game and started narrowing down the prospects.
When I picked one, I told Agent and his girlfriend to come dance with us.
There we are, grinding on the dance floor, and Agent looks down at the girl I'm with, then at his girlfriend, then at me and yells, "Manual SCISSOR!"
So we each grabbed a leg of the girl we were with and pushed the girls together crotch first.
Yep.
Manual scissor on the dance floor.
I'm pretty sure their labia actually touched. Neither of them were wearing much.
Nothing like mashing some clits together under the summer moonlight.
When we went back to the booth, we had to shoo away other girls that were waiting for my return.
Agent farted in one of their faces because she had sat down, and was not willing to get up until I talked to her.
She went away.
I looked at Agent and said, "Meet me downstairs in a few minutes. I have to take a giant bar duece. Don't leave..." I said, pointing at the girl I'd picked, "without her."
I saw understanding on his face.
No, this isn't another shit story. My bar shit went surprisingly well. And then I went down to the entrance to wait for everyone. So I waited.
And waited.
I sat with a couple of girls that were near the stairs so I could see my friends coming. Made out with both of them, and judged them on their kissing talent. They compared notes, and then I made out with them again.
And I still waited.
Until the bar was closing down, I waited at the stairs making out with more hot women.
It was awful. I hate waiting.
Finally, they all showed up as the lights were coming on.
Except, the girl who I was taking home was no longer able to walk. Agent, in all his wisdom, decided to do shots with her until I returned. Apparently unaware that I was not returning. She was tripping on her shoes, falling over every few steps, and basically being carried by Agent.
And I don't mean 'oops, I'm tipsy' falling over. Like, falling on her face falling over. Her elbows were a mess.
I looked at Agent. "Well, I can't fuck her NOW. What the hell did you do to her?"
She apologized for being so drunk and fell over.
Agent grabbed her top and pulled it down to her navel. "BOOBIES!" She laughed and pulled the fabric back over her nipples.
And fell over.
I didn't even crack a smile. Or help her up.
All I was thinking was, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK."
Yah. No pussy for me, even after an awesome night like that.
It was like watching 'The Sixth Sense' or all six seasons of 'LOST'. It all seemed to be going so well, and then... WHAT THE FUCK?
The second night I remember was the first time I slept with a married woman.
But that's another story...
Thursday, 15 November 2012
Accidentally more awesome
My brother is a pretty solid guy.
Well, he is now... most of the time.
Every once in a while when he's my wingman he still brings up the shitty things I used to do to him when he was a kid. Like the time I broke his collarbone delivering newspapers and made him walk home. Or the time he was following me up stairs and I kicked him in the face. Or the time I threw a ball of ice at his head and knocked him unconscious.
Things I probably would have been more/remotely apologetic about if it had not taken him until the age of fourteen to grow a functioning brain.
By the time he was done high school, we actually got along really well. We didn't go on windy walks and hold hands, but we did go to college parties together and destroy campus apartments.
He got himself signed on to leave the country for a couple of years, and I decided to throw him a going away party. And since it was close to his birthday, we made it a combined party.
One of the best house parties I've ever thrown.
There was a disco ball and a dance floor. Enough food to feed an army. Black lights. Video projection. Club music, which I had pre-DJ'd. A fully stocked bar. And, of course, me.
I invited everyone.
People I'd never met before showed up.
Including one particularly cute Japanese girl. Who had apparently never had beef on a bun before - she nearly ate the whole pot. Anyway, we'll call her Mimi.
There's a small back story about her, though.
A few weeks earlier, I had started hanging out with a girl who had just recently returned from Japan. She was there as an English teacher, and had invited one of the friends she met there to come visit her.
It wasn't until the going away party that I found out what she had actually been doing in Japan, and how she met Mimi in the first place. And, it wasn't because she was teaching English.
Mimi spoke maybe a dozen words of English. But the first four I heard her say warmed my cockles.
In the worst Japanese broken English I've ever heard, she asked, "I strip for you?"
Holy fuck. What?
It took me exactly one point six seconds to get over the shock and reply, "Yes, he would love that."
My friend had to explain to me that she was, in fact, a stripper from Japan. And, when she had been told that it was my brother's birthday, Mimi decided she wanted to give him a gift he would remember.
I was handed a CD.
She apparently had a soundtrack, and had brought it with her to the party. It literally said, "Strip sound track."
I was also immediately no longer interested in Mimi's friend.
Mimi changed into her outfit, my brother was blind folded, and I turned on the music.
She came out in what I can only describe as a neon orange chain link fence - like the kind you see at a construction site, only made of nylon and incredibly sexier - and a g-string.
Her nipples were sticking through two of the holes, and you could clearly see down almost to her clit.
She pulled the blindfold off of my brother's smiling face, and the smile grew.
"Best. Birthday. Ever," he said.
I took pictures.
You know, for posterity. Or blackmail.
And then I asked Mimi on a date. To which, she nodded enthusiastically. At least, she nodded enthusiastically to whatever had been translated to her by... whatever-her-name-was.
I kind of wish she had stayed a little longer. Seeing a girl who doesn't talk is just about as perfect as it can get. Especially one that enjoys 'wolking' for me for free.
Well, he is now... most of the time.
Every once in a while when he's my wingman he still brings up the shitty things I used to do to him when he was a kid. Like the time I broke his collarbone delivering newspapers and made him walk home. Or the time he was following me up stairs and I kicked him in the face. Or the time I threw a ball of ice at his head and knocked him unconscious.
Things I probably would have been more/remotely apologetic about if it had not taken him until the age of fourteen to grow a functioning brain.
By the time he was done high school, we actually got along really well. We didn't go on windy walks and hold hands, but we did go to college parties together and destroy campus apartments.
He got himself signed on to leave the country for a couple of years, and I decided to throw him a going away party. And since it was close to his birthday, we made it a combined party.
One of the best house parties I've ever thrown.
There was a disco ball and a dance floor. Enough food to feed an army. Black lights. Video projection. Club music, which I had pre-DJ'd. A fully stocked bar. And, of course, me.
I invited everyone.
People I'd never met before showed up.
Including one particularly cute Japanese girl. Who had apparently never had beef on a bun before - she nearly ate the whole pot. Anyway, we'll call her Mimi.
There's a small back story about her, though.
A few weeks earlier, I had started hanging out with a girl who had just recently returned from Japan. She was there as an English teacher, and had invited one of the friends she met there to come visit her.
It wasn't until the going away party that I found out what she had actually been doing in Japan, and how she met Mimi in the first place. And, it wasn't because she was teaching English.
Mimi spoke maybe a dozen words of English. But the first four I heard her say warmed my cockles.
In the worst Japanese broken English I've ever heard, she asked, "I strip for you?"
Holy fuck. What?
It took me exactly one point six seconds to get over the shock and reply, "Yes, he would love that."
My friend had to explain to me that she was, in fact, a stripper from Japan. And, when she had been told that it was my brother's birthday, Mimi decided she wanted to give him a gift he would remember.
I was handed a CD.
She apparently had a soundtrack, and had brought it with her to the party. It literally said, "Strip sound track."
I was also immediately no longer interested in Mimi's friend.
Mimi changed into her outfit, my brother was blind folded, and I turned on the music.
She came out in what I can only describe as a neon orange chain link fence - like the kind you see at a construction site, only made of nylon and incredibly sexier - and a g-string.
Her nipples were sticking through two of the holes, and you could clearly see down almost to her clit.
She pulled the blindfold off of my brother's smiling face, and the smile grew.
"Best. Birthday. Ever," he said.
I took pictures.
You know, for posterity. Or blackmail.
And then I asked Mimi on a date. To which, she nodded enthusiastically. At least, she nodded enthusiastically to whatever had been translated to her by... whatever-her-name-was.
I kind of wish she had stayed a little longer. Seeing a girl who doesn't talk is just about as perfect as it can get. Especially one that enjoys 'wolking' for me for free.
Monday, 5 November 2012
Party rockin the all ages crowd
Is it just me, or do girls start looking hot a lot younger than they used to?
My buddy Ruben and I were on a road trip one time, and we stopped for gas. There was this absolutely stunning girl walking to her car as we pulled up.
Ruben was like, "Holy crap, that chic is super hot... Jesus, she's like 15. Wow, I'm such a creeper."
Thing is, if she didn't have such a baby face, she could have totally been 20. I honestly wanted to introduce myself and say, "Seriously, the day you turn 18, call me. I will wreck you."
We must be adding more hormones or [insert other conspiracy shit] to our water supply.
Whatever it is, I've learned that if I'm not at a bar, I absolutely must ask for proof of age.
For me, going to a concert is an adult activity. I drink, I finger girls I grind with, and I always make out with at least one girl.
It's like going to the bar. Only, easier, because you don't have to talk.
At all.
I didn't realize that the shows I might go to might also be all ages shows until I went to an LMFAO concert dressed up as Red Foo.
I was the only guy there in costume, and it was seriously convincing. I had a couple people come up and ask for an autograph before they realized I wasn't actually him. I was barely ten feet in the door before I had people running up taking pictures with me.
It was epic.
So many times, I'd be getting a picture with a group of insanely hot girls, and I'd ask them how old they were.
Can you guess the average?
Thirteen.
Fucking THIRTEEN!
If Cousin wasn't there to reign me in a bit, I could have been in serious trouble with the law. I had one fifteen year old rubbing me through my animal print tights while her friend took pictures. I had to slap her hand away more than once.
And then I started drinking.
The night wasn't a complete bust. I did find a few girls over the age of consent to make out with.
Actually, one of them I only found because her boyfriend asked me to get pictures with her.
I picked her up and slammed her against a wall. She wrapped her legs around me and made out with me while her boyfriend took the pictures.
Ha.
Chump.
My buddy Ruben and I were on a road trip one time, and we stopped for gas. There was this absolutely stunning girl walking to her car as we pulled up.
Ruben was like, "Holy crap, that chic is super hot... Jesus, she's like 15. Wow, I'm such a creeper."
Thing is, if she didn't have such a baby face, she could have totally been 20. I honestly wanted to introduce myself and say, "Seriously, the day you turn 18, call me. I will wreck you."
We must be adding more hormones or [insert other conspiracy shit] to our water supply.
Whatever it is, I've learned that if I'm not at a bar, I absolutely must ask for proof of age.
For me, going to a concert is an adult activity. I drink, I finger girls I grind with, and I always make out with at least one girl.
It's like going to the bar. Only, easier, because you don't have to talk.
At all.
I didn't realize that the shows I might go to might also be all ages shows until I went to an LMFAO concert dressed up as Red Foo.
I was the only guy there in costume, and it was seriously convincing. I had a couple people come up and ask for an autograph before they realized I wasn't actually him. I was barely ten feet in the door before I had people running up taking pictures with me.
It was epic.
So many times, I'd be getting a picture with a group of insanely hot girls, and I'd ask them how old they were.
Can you guess the average?
Thirteen.
Fucking THIRTEEN!
If Cousin wasn't there to reign me in a bit, I could have been in serious trouble with the law. I had one fifteen year old rubbing me through my animal print tights while her friend took pictures. I had to slap her hand away more than once.
And then I started drinking.
The night wasn't a complete bust. I did find a few girls over the age of consent to make out with.
Actually, one of them I only found because her boyfriend asked me to get pictures with her.
I picked her up and slammed her against a wall. She wrapped her legs around me and made out with me while her boyfriend took the pictures.
Ha.
Chump.
Wednesday, 24 October 2012
The grinch who stole Halloween
Halloween has always been a bit of a spark of joy in my life.
Even when I was a lot younger, dressing up was something I really looked forward to and I put in a lot of effort to find unique and awesome costumes.
Looking back just at recent couple years, I've dressed up for more than just Halloween. There was the Elvis costume for my last birthday, Oktoberfest lederhosen, Red Foo/LMFAO, denim cowboy, bumble bee, the pirate, the blonde woman... The list goes on.
The year I was the blonde woman, I had lost some weight and was fake tanning to prepare for my 'role'. Cousin styled a blonde wig for me to go with my belly shirt, short skirt, and fishnet stockings.
The only thing I couldn't find to complete the outfit was shoes. It's difficult to find women's flats in size thirteen.
So I wore a pair of brown skateboard shoes I had from a previous costume.
I was very into the role, out on the dance floor shaking my ass like Beyonce. Flicking my blonde locks out of my face with the back of my hand.
At one point I tried using the woman's washroom, but my beard must have given me away, because they wouldn't let me in.
Apparently it was quite a convincing costume, though.
Especially to the guy who had a few drinks and got up the courage to come dance with me.
From behind.
He grabbed me, and I turned around to face him. I pointed at my beard and said, "Hi. I'm a dude."
The expression on his face was priceless. As he shit his pants, he took off running back to his group of friends, who were all laughing hysterically as he tried to explain. He mimed a penis and a beard and pointed furiously at me.
Girls kept coming up to me and grabbing my dick. I guess just to see if I really was a guy. Or, maybe because it was hanging out past the bottom of the skirt.
Neither would surprise me.
More recently, I decided to go as the king from '300', all dressed up in a cape and a Spartan helmet. I ordered the costume from online, which said the costume was 'one size fits all'. I guess not many guys who are 6'2" order from the site.
The cloth barely covered my junk, and if I lifted my arms it nearly came up to my belly button.
I was actually satisfied with this, and was just going to wear a pair of boxer briefs underneath.
But my voice of reason (aka Cousin) convinced me that an overlooked ball adjustment could leave one of the boys hanging out for everyone to see.
I told her that would make everyone's night more special.
I eventually conceded, and put on a pair of basketball shorts.
We met everyone in the garage of one of the girls who was coming out.
She was brand new to our group. Cousin had met her at work a couple weeks earlier, and she seemed pretty cool, so she invited her out with us.
I vaguely remember her mentioning something about recently being single again, and deciding that I was going to put my cock in and around her mouth.
After the first club, I was sufficiently buzzing and having another awesome night out.
We decided to bounce to another night club so Cousin could meet up with a guy, who wanted to take her home that night.
See? I'm a good wingman too.
She got a text from him as soon as we got inside and went looking for him.
Our new friend said she recognized some people, so we walked over and said hello. I'm still trying to piece together what happened next.
I remember meeting two guys and shaking their hands. I remember the music was so loud, I had to lean in a bit to hear what they were saying.
Somehow, one of them got behind me without me noticing and launched a solid right cross at my jaw just in front of my ear.
I felt the crack of my teeth, and the resulting bits of bone swimming around my mouth.
Because of the helmet I was wearing, he had attacked from a complete blind spot.
The impact spun me about ninety degrees.
My training kicked in immediately. Two things happened: I became instantly sober, and I became acutely aware of my heart beat and my limbs.
I took a deep breath to clear the stars from my sight, and realized that my helmet had also spun on my head, and was now completely blocking my sight.
Just as someone jumped on my back.
I dropped into a horse stance and grabbed that fucker by the back of the head, ready to flip him off my back and kneel on his throat.
But, it wasn't the guy who punched me who had jumped on my back. It was his friend.
I found this out in the next split second.
As another solid smash landed directly on my nose and mouth.
More teeth.
My helmet had flown off, and as I took a couple steps back, I saw the bouncers emerge upon the two assholes who had jumped me.
I spit my broken teeth out and shook my head at them.
I walked into the washroom with a ripped cape, no helmet, a missing sandal, and blood pouring from my mouth and nose.
When I got to the mirror, I assessed the damage.
My nose looked like it was already swelling, and my smile was destroyed. One tooth almost completely missing, cracked nearly at the root, and several of my front teeth had been shifted from their rightful position.
X-rays later showed that he had fractured my jaw in four places, broken my nose, and cracked 5 teeth. It took more than a year to get the resulting $18,000 of dental work done.
And even after a civil suit, the bastard got away without paying a dime in damages.
Turns out, the girl had introduced me to her ex boyfriend. And his buddy, who just happened to be a golden gloves boxer.
Whether or not it was on purpose was never totally clear. She seemed legitimately shocked that they'd jumped me, and did run to grab Cousin to help me out. But, she'd have to be pretty retarded to think that she could introduce me to the ex without any kind of repercussion.
I spent the majority of that night at the police station and in the hospital. Both which I drove to.
While going into shock.
Not the way I was planning to spend Halloween.
Even when I was a lot younger, dressing up was something I really looked forward to and I put in a lot of effort to find unique and awesome costumes.
Looking back just at recent couple years, I've dressed up for more than just Halloween. There was the Elvis costume for my last birthday, Oktoberfest lederhosen, Red Foo/LMFAO, denim cowboy, bumble bee, the pirate, the blonde woman... The list goes on.
The year I was the blonde woman, I had lost some weight and was fake tanning to prepare for my 'role'. Cousin styled a blonde wig for me to go with my belly shirt, short skirt, and fishnet stockings.
The only thing I couldn't find to complete the outfit was shoes. It's difficult to find women's flats in size thirteen.
So I wore a pair of brown skateboard shoes I had from a previous costume.
I was very into the role, out on the dance floor shaking my ass like Beyonce. Flicking my blonde locks out of my face with the back of my hand.
At one point I tried using the woman's washroom, but my beard must have given me away, because they wouldn't let me in.
Apparently it was quite a convincing costume, though.
Especially to the guy who had a few drinks and got up the courage to come dance with me.
From behind.
He grabbed me, and I turned around to face him. I pointed at my beard and said, "Hi. I'm a dude."
The expression on his face was priceless. As he shit his pants, he took off running back to his group of friends, who were all laughing hysterically as he tried to explain. He mimed a penis and a beard and pointed furiously at me.
Girls kept coming up to me and grabbing my dick. I guess just to see if I really was a guy. Or, maybe because it was hanging out past the bottom of the skirt.
Neither would surprise me.
More recently, I decided to go as the king from '300', all dressed up in a cape and a Spartan helmet. I ordered the costume from online, which said the costume was 'one size fits all'. I guess not many guys who are 6'2" order from the site.
The cloth barely covered my junk, and if I lifted my arms it nearly came up to my belly button.
I was actually satisfied with this, and was just going to wear a pair of boxer briefs underneath.
But my voice of reason (aka Cousin) convinced me that an overlooked ball adjustment could leave one of the boys hanging out for everyone to see.
I told her that would make everyone's night more special.
I eventually conceded, and put on a pair of basketball shorts.
We met everyone in the garage of one of the girls who was coming out.
She was brand new to our group. Cousin had met her at work a couple weeks earlier, and she seemed pretty cool, so she invited her out with us.
I vaguely remember her mentioning something about recently being single again, and deciding that I was going to put my cock in and around her mouth.
After the first club, I was sufficiently buzzing and having another awesome night out.
We decided to bounce to another night club so Cousin could meet up with a guy, who wanted to take her home that night.
See? I'm a good wingman too.
She got a text from him as soon as we got inside and went looking for him.
Our new friend said she recognized some people, so we walked over and said hello. I'm still trying to piece together what happened next.
I remember meeting two guys and shaking their hands. I remember the music was so loud, I had to lean in a bit to hear what they were saying.
Somehow, one of them got behind me without me noticing and launched a solid right cross at my jaw just in front of my ear.
I felt the crack of my teeth, and the resulting bits of bone swimming around my mouth.
Because of the helmet I was wearing, he had attacked from a complete blind spot.
The impact spun me about ninety degrees.
My training kicked in immediately. Two things happened: I became instantly sober, and I became acutely aware of my heart beat and my limbs.
I took a deep breath to clear the stars from my sight, and realized that my helmet had also spun on my head, and was now completely blocking my sight.
Just as someone jumped on my back.
I dropped into a horse stance and grabbed that fucker by the back of the head, ready to flip him off my back and kneel on his throat.
But, it wasn't the guy who punched me who had jumped on my back. It was his friend.
I found this out in the next split second.
As another solid smash landed directly on my nose and mouth.
More teeth.
My helmet had flown off, and as I took a couple steps back, I saw the bouncers emerge upon the two assholes who had jumped me.
I spit my broken teeth out and shook my head at them.
I walked into the washroom with a ripped cape, no helmet, a missing sandal, and blood pouring from my mouth and nose.
When I got to the mirror, I assessed the damage.
My nose looked like it was already swelling, and my smile was destroyed. One tooth almost completely missing, cracked nearly at the root, and several of my front teeth had been shifted from their rightful position.
X-rays later showed that he had fractured my jaw in four places, broken my nose, and cracked 5 teeth. It took more than a year to get the resulting $18,000 of dental work done.
And even after a civil suit, the bastard got away without paying a dime in damages.
Turns out, the girl had introduced me to her ex boyfriend. And his buddy, who just happened to be a golden gloves boxer.
Whether or not it was on purpose was never totally clear. She seemed legitimately shocked that they'd jumped me, and did run to grab Cousin to help me out. But, she'd have to be pretty retarded to think that she could introduce me to the ex without any kind of repercussion.
I spent the majority of that night at the police station and in the hospital. Both which I drove to.
While going into shock.
Not the way I was planning to spend Halloween.
Wednesday, 17 October 2012
The girl in the jean mini skirt
Having a stalker is like getting the flu.
The mere thought of leaving the house induces unhappiness and irritable bowels.
I still remember my first stalker. I was fifteen. She had down syndrome.
More recently, a fat psychopath who's mother was in jail for murdering her grandparents. Yes, this shit really happens to me.
But good things always seem to come to me as an end result.
Back when I was fifteen, an incredible hottie would come cling to me and call me her boyfriend every time she saw Miss Forty Seven Chromosomes trying to grab at me.
And I actually ended up hooking up with that hottie.
And her sister.
The recent stalker was a little more aggressive.
After telling her to her face that I wasn't interested in her, and that she should leave me alone, she told all her friends that I had asked her out.
But, it was like her ears heard a conversation coming from some other dimension where I was attracted to desperation and the pungent smell of day old Vagisil, instead of the words coming out of my fucking mouth.
One night Cousin was out, fat girl was out with her friends and they bumped into each other. Cousin put up with her long enough to meet a few of her friends, and immediately texted me.
"There's someone here you should meet. She will fuck you. Tonight."
I was hesitant. I knew that psycho girl was there, too. Since she had told me. Fifty seven times.
I took a shit and put on a nice shirt. And went to meet them.
Cousin was right. The friend was cute.
I escalated the physical tension and we bounced back to my place.
It was so fast that my stalker (and a guy trying desperately to hit on the friend I took home) both hadn't noticed our absence right away.
Cousin mediated both situations.
She told stalker that I had left with her friend. Which made her burst into tears and slink away.
She told lame guy, "She's probably got his dick in her mouth as we speak."
Correct.
Yah. See? Best wingman ever.
The mere thought of leaving the house induces unhappiness and irritable bowels.
I still remember my first stalker. I was fifteen. She had down syndrome.
More recently, a fat psychopath who's mother was in jail for murdering her grandparents. Yes, this shit really happens to me.
But good things always seem to come to me as an end result.
Back when I was fifteen, an incredible hottie would come cling to me and call me her boyfriend every time she saw Miss Forty Seven Chromosomes trying to grab at me.
And I actually ended up hooking up with that hottie.
And her sister.
The recent stalker was a little more aggressive.
After telling her to her face that I wasn't interested in her, and that she should leave me alone, she told all her friends that I had asked her out.
But, it was like her ears heard a conversation coming from some other dimension where I was attracted to desperation and the pungent smell of day old Vagisil, instead of the words coming out of my fucking mouth.
One night Cousin was out, fat girl was out with her friends and they bumped into each other. Cousin put up with her long enough to meet a few of her friends, and immediately texted me.
"There's someone here you should meet. She will fuck you. Tonight."
I was hesitant. I knew that psycho girl was there, too. Since she had told me. Fifty seven times.
I took a shit and put on a nice shirt. And went to meet them.
Cousin was right. The friend was cute.
I escalated the physical tension and we bounced back to my place.
It was so fast that my stalker (and a guy trying desperately to hit on the friend I took home) both hadn't noticed our absence right away.
Cousin mediated both situations.
She told stalker that I had left with her friend. Which made her burst into tears and slink away.
She told lame guy, "She's probably got his dick in her mouth as we speak."
Correct.
Yah. See? Best wingman ever.
Tuesday, 9 October 2012
Counting is my forte
So, either I can't count, or I was trying to repress the memory.
I've actually drank to the point of vomiting five times. Not four.
I'm planning a trip to the tropics again, and I was reminiscing about the times I've been sun burnt beyond comfort in the past.
Scuba diving in the West Indies, bus touring Mexico, snorkeling coral reefs off the coast of the Yucatan, and touring the temples at Chichen Itza... And then I remembered spring break in Cancun.
I went with a friend who was excellent with women. He had recently started an exclusive fucking arrangement with an exotic woman, so he was there for moral support and to be my awesome wingman.
We went on peak week, so the resorts were absolutely packed with bikini clad hotties. The hotel staff would organize strip volleyball, drinking games, wet t-shirt contests, and all sorts of activities with the ultimate goal to get everyone stark ass naked and fall-on-your-ass drunk.
My kind of vacation.
We planned on being mostly sober the whole week, so the first night we got there we decided to get the drinking thing out of the way.
I certainly did.
We got to the hotel late, but just in time for the party crawl going to Daddy O's.
Fifty bucks put us on the bus, got us in the VIP door, put us in the VIP section of the club, and provide us unlimited bottle service for the night.
Fuck. Yes.
And, with no open liquor laws in Cancun, and an all-inclusive hotel, we loaded up with as many cups as we could carry full of shots for the bus ride there.
We handed out the shots and made a few solid 'cheers' with everyone around us.
My idea. You know me, I get the party started.
I was getting fully drunk before we even got into line at the club.
The crowds were intense. Even the VIP line was out the door and down the block.
Our guide told us before we got in the door to hold on to each other and not get lost. I laughed. Until we got in the door.
I looked at my buddy. The look on his face was priceless. 'Shit just got real,' he said.
We fought our way through the crowd up the stairs to the VIP area that had reserved tables for us. A shot girl wearing stickers on her nipples and a micro bikini offered a tray of unknown liquor that was kind of a blue-green. Instinctively, I asked her how much they were. "Free." Right. Cancun.
We polished off her tray.
We sat down at a table with a group of girls and a passed out man wearing a kilt.
Bottle service showed up with a 26 of vodka, and a couple jugs of mixer. The mixer was something red and delicious. It tasted like awesome, and even with a half-and-half mix, completely covered the flavor of the vodka.
I polished off two bottles of vodka by myself.
At which point, my brain shut off.
Total blackout.
The next thing I remember was waking up in my hotel room mid puke.
I started to freak out.
Not because I was puking.
Because I was puking red. Bright, blood red.
It took me a minute, while still puking, to figure out what the fuck was happening.
Red mixer. Right. I calmed down a bit, and continued puking.
Then I had a flashback of the hotel bill from my birthday party bus night. At least the floors here were tile, not carpet. And, there were two beds in my room.
I wrapped the vomit up into the blankets and piled it all in the middle of the bed. Cracked open a Coca Cola and poured it on the tiles and let it do its thing for a few minutes. Then used a towel to scrub the soda off the tiles along with all the congealing puke.
Then I crawled into the other bed and went back to sleep.
I told the maid the next day that I had made a mess and mimed vomiting. She didn't speak a word of English. But when she saw the bed, she understood.
Her shoulders fell, and there was a look of despair on her face.
I handed her a hundred pesos note and apologized.
And promptly left.
I needed free beer.
I've actually drank to the point of vomiting five times. Not four.
I'm planning a trip to the tropics again, and I was reminiscing about the times I've been sun burnt beyond comfort in the past.
Scuba diving in the West Indies, bus touring Mexico, snorkeling coral reefs off the coast of the Yucatan, and touring the temples at Chichen Itza... And then I remembered spring break in Cancun.
I went with a friend who was excellent with women. He had recently started an exclusive fucking arrangement with an exotic woman, so he was there for moral support and to be my awesome wingman.
We went on peak week, so the resorts were absolutely packed with bikini clad hotties. The hotel staff would organize strip volleyball, drinking games, wet t-shirt contests, and all sorts of activities with the ultimate goal to get everyone stark ass naked and fall-on-your-ass drunk.
My kind of vacation.
We planned on being mostly sober the whole week, so the first night we got there we decided to get the drinking thing out of the way.
I certainly did.
We got to the hotel late, but just in time for the party crawl going to Daddy O's.
Fifty bucks put us on the bus, got us in the VIP door, put us in the VIP section of the club, and provide us unlimited bottle service for the night.
Fuck. Yes.
And, with no open liquor laws in Cancun, and an all-inclusive hotel, we loaded up with as many cups as we could carry full of shots for the bus ride there.
We handed out the shots and made a few solid 'cheers' with everyone around us.
My idea. You know me, I get the party started.
I was getting fully drunk before we even got into line at the club.
The crowds were intense. Even the VIP line was out the door and down the block.
Our guide told us before we got in the door to hold on to each other and not get lost. I laughed. Until we got in the door.
I looked at my buddy. The look on his face was priceless. 'Shit just got real,' he said.
We fought our way through the crowd up the stairs to the VIP area that had reserved tables for us. A shot girl wearing stickers on her nipples and a micro bikini offered a tray of unknown liquor that was kind of a blue-green. Instinctively, I asked her how much they were. "Free." Right. Cancun.
We polished off her tray.
We sat down at a table with a group of girls and a passed out man wearing a kilt.
Bottle service showed up with a 26 of vodka, and a couple jugs of mixer. The mixer was something red and delicious. It tasted like awesome, and even with a half-and-half mix, completely covered the flavor of the vodka.
I polished off two bottles of vodka by myself.
At which point, my brain shut off.
Total blackout.
The next thing I remember was waking up in my hotel room mid puke.
I started to freak out.
Not because I was puking.
Because I was puking red. Bright, blood red.
It took me a minute, while still puking, to figure out what the fuck was happening.
Red mixer. Right. I calmed down a bit, and continued puking.
Then I had a flashback of the hotel bill from my birthday party bus night. At least the floors here were tile, not carpet. And, there were two beds in my room.
I wrapped the vomit up into the blankets and piled it all in the middle of the bed. Cracked open a Coca Cola and poured it on the tiles and let it do its thing for a few minutes. Then used a towel to scrub the soda off the tiles along with all the congealing puke.
Then I crawled into the other bed and went back to sleep.
I told the maid the next day that I had made a mess and mimed vomiting. She didn't speak a word of English. But when she saw the bed, she understood.
Her shoulders fell, and there was a look of despair on her face.
I handed her a hundred pesos note and apologized.
And promptly left.
I needed free beer.
Monday, 1 October 2012
A midsummer night's orgy
Every summer, I invite everyone to the lake house for a week of drinking and debauchery.
You gain a special bond with friends that you've shared a liter of tequila with.
And, it's absinthe that makes the heart grow fonder.
As I have discovered, mixing them has one of the two following unavoidable outcomes: hours of uncontrollable vomiting, or all involved getting buck ass naked.
There's nothing quite like taking your pants off, and humping a painting off the wall. Thank you, absinthe. Thank you.
As an experiment for a new drinking game, Cousin brought a 'How Naughty Are You' book. Essentially containing a list from the most innocent to the most devious sexual acts imaginable. We turned it into a 'never have I ever' type game. Cousin would read an entry from the book, and everyone who had done it before, drank.
Of course, if it was particularly funny or weird, we'd stop the game, and make the people who drank explain themselves as explicitly as possible.
I found out about frozen bluberries as ben wa balls, the easiest method for fisting, a story about sobering up mid-sex that ended in faking a heart condition and stolen chocolate bars, and of course I told my story about toe fucking a girl across the dinner table with the whole family present and unaware.
I'm not exactly clear on the details, but at some point clothes started coming off. At first, for one 'round' of the game. Then, progressively longer and longer. Until the game became the distraction, and being naked became the focus of the night.
A few of the girls started making out with each other. Being the referee, and therefore much more sober than the rest of us, Cousin excused herself. She said the last thing she heard was one of the girls saying, "I don't usually like to share, but I think I can make an exception tonight."
And she did.
I remember stopping mid-fuck and looking at the girl on the bed. She asked me why I had stopped. I pointed to the beer can in my hand. "It's empty. Stay there. I'm getting another one."
Yep. I went to the fridge and grabbed another beer, and continued to drink while fucking until I was thoroughly satisfied and/or too hammered to continue.
Favorite line of the night: "Holy fuck. This is happening."
Welcome to my life.
You gain a special bond with friends that you've shared a liter of tequila with.
And, it's absinthe that makes the heart grow fonder.
As I have discovered, mixing them has one of the two following unavoidable outcomes: hours of uncontrollable vomiting, or all involved getting buck ass naked.
There's nothing quite like taking your pants off, and humping a painting off the wall. Thank you, absinthe. Thank you.
As an experiment for a new drinking game, Cousin brought a 'How Naughty Are You' book. Essentially containing a list from the most innocent to the most devious sexual acts imaginable. We turned it into a 'never have I ever' type game. Cousin would read an entry from the book, and everyone who had done it before, drank.
Of course, if it was particularly funny or weird, we'd stop the game, and make the people who drank explain themselves as explicitly as possible.
I found out about frozen bluberries as ben wa balls, the easiest method for fisting, a story about sobering up mid-sex that ended in faking a heart condition and stolen chocolate bars, and of course I told my story about toe fucking a girl across the dinner table with the whole family present and unaware.
I'm not exactly clear on the details, but at some point clothes started coming off. At first, for one 'round' of the game. Then, progressively longer and longer. Until the game became the distraction, and being naked became the focus of the night.
A few of the girls started making out with each other. Being the referee, and therefore much more sober than the rest of us, Cousin excused herself. She said the last thing she heard was one of the girls saying, "I don't usually like to share, but I think I can make an exception tonight."
And she did.
I remember stopping mid-fuck and looking at the girl on the bed. She asked me why I had stopped. I pointed to the beer can in my hand. "It's empty. Stay there. I'm getting another one."
Yep. I went to the fridge and grabbed another beer, and continued to drink while fucking until I was thoroughly satisfied and/or too hammered to continue.
Favorite line of the night: "Holy fuck. This is happening."
Welcome to my life.
Monday, 24 September 2012
Vegas Part Duex
I've been trying to find ways to kill myself since I was little.
I once got a subscription to Sports Illustrated that ended in collections agency calls to my parents.
Because I was twelve, and gave them my dad's name and a fake credit card number. That whole online credit check thing was a little looser those days.
My dad was almost charged for fraud, and ended up having to pay for a year of my subscription.
I only got it for the swimsuit issue, which he confiscated before I could see.
Online porn was kind of new in those days, too. I literally was more willing to wait for a magazine in the mail than wait for the pictures to load on playboy.com.
Although... I did that too.
I almost didn't make it to my thirteenth birthday.
For me, Vegas also fits into the category of 'possible suicidal tendencies'.
Probably the most responsible thing I did on my last trip was sky diving. And even then, I had to sign a form saying 'I have not consumed alcohol or drugs in the past 8 hours'.
It was more like forty minutes.
I can check off sky diving from my bucket list, though.
It was awesome. And I'd say anyone who hasn't gone should go at least once.
Cousin lost a bet to me, and had to go with me. She's so terrified of heights, I was really proud of her for getting all suited up and into the plane. But, she couldn't get herself out the plane door at 15,000 feet.
The adrenaline rush is crazy. The instructor told us to take it easy on the alcohol that night, because the heightened levels of adrenaline would make it effect us significantly more.
Challenge accepted. So, instead, I bought VIP tickets for a pub crawl, and drank my face off.
The alcohol hit me like a wave of awesome.
By the time we were done at the first night club, I already had a hard buzz going, and probably only downed like three drinks.
Second stop was Tao night club. Which, in retrospect, I think we should have stayed at. Can you say 'free pour'? But we paid the extra money for our tickets, so we were supposed to end up at PURE night club - which is amazing, and which was going to be even more incredible that particular night because of a celebrity appearance.
So we moved on.
Next stop was LAX.
At which point, I was thoroughly hammered.
I don't understand why the fuck-head who designed that night club was like: 'I know, let's put seventy three staircases for no goddamn reason all over the fucking place.'
On the way in, I felt like I'd gotten lost in a maze of hallways. Flashes of Hostel went through my mind, and I was definitely thinking I was headed to my demise. As I started to panic, Cousin had to herd me through the madness until it opened up again in to the actual club.
I've never been there sober, so in all likelihood, that hallway may only be ten feet long.
As soon as we got in, I had to pee, so Cousin helped me find the way to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, I came out surrounded by what appeared to be a gang of Asians, and Cousin was worried I was going to get my ass kicked. For about three seconds, until she realized I had somehow made friends with ALL of them WHILE PISSING, and they were all fist bumping and high-fiving me for reasons I don't recall.
Knowing me, it could've been anything. I may have shown them my penis.
PURE was supposed to be next. We didn't make it there, though. Because the organizers fucked up and put us with the wrong group.
I'm fairly certain it's because they were getting Alzheimer's. Seriously, they looked like something out of a penthouse-for-seniors magazine. Fake tits that pointed off in the wrong directions, blonde out of a bottle, bad plastic surgery and face lifts, lips with too many injections, tans out of a can, and porn star length fake nails.
I decided to point out their flaws.
So, the pub crawl, for me, ended at the twenty four hour MacDonald's in the Luxor hotel.
Still one of the best nights of my life.
And, considering I made out with the hottest Russian blonde I've ever met the night before... in a strip club... where she was working... I'd say that's saying a lot.
I told you: Vegas and me are buddies.
I once got a subscription to Sports Illustrated that ended in collections agency calls to my parents.
Because I was twelve, and gave them my dad's name and a fake credit card number. That whole online credit check thing was a little looser those days.
My dad was almost charged for fraud, and ended up having to pay for a year of my subscription.
I only got it for the swimsuit issue, which he confiscated before I could see.
Online porn was kind of new in those days, too. I literally was more willing to wait for a magazine in the mail than wait for the pictures to load on playboy.com.
Although... I did that too.
I almost didn't make it to my thirteenth birthday.
For me, Vegas also fits into the category of 'possible suicidal tendencies'.
Probably the most responsible thing I did on my last trip was sky diving. And even then, I had to sign a form saying 'I have not consumed alcohol or drugs in the past 8 hours'.
It was more like forty minutes.
I can check off sky diving from my bucket list, though.
It was awesome. And I'd say anyone who hasn't gone should go at least once.
Cousin lost a bet to me, and had to go with me. She's so terrified of heights, I was really proud of her for getting all suited up and into the plane. But, she couldn't get herself out the plane door at 15,000 feet.
The adrenaline rush is crazy. The instructor told us to take it easy on the alcohol that night, because the heightened levels of adrenaline would make it effect us significantly more.
Challenge accepted. So, instead, I bought VIP tickets for a pub crawl, and drank my face off.
The alcohol hit me like a wave of awesome.
By the time we were done at the first night club, I already had a hard buzz going, and probably only downed like three drinks.
Second stop was Tao night club. Which, in retrospect, I think we should have stayed at. Can you say 'free pour'? But we paid the extra money for our tickets, so we were supposed to end up at PURE night club - which is amazing, and which was going to be even more incredible that particular night because of a celebrity appearance.
So we moved on.
Next stop was LAX.
At which point, I was thoroughly hammered.
I don't understand why the fuck-head who designed that night club was like: 'I know, let's put seventy three staircases for no goddamn reason all over the fucking place.'
On the way in, I felt like I'd gotten lost in a maze of hallways. Flashes of Hostel went through my mind, and I was definitely thinking I was headed to my demise. As I started to panic, Cousin had to herd me through the madness until it opened up again in to the actual club.
I've never been there sober, so in all likelihood, that hallway may only be ten feet long.
As soon as we got in, I had to pee, so Cousin helped me find the way to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, I came out surrounded by what appeared to be a gang of Asians, and Cousin was worried I was going to get my ass kicked. For about three seconds, until she realized I had somehow made friends with ALL of them WHILE PISSING, and they were all fist bumping and high-fiving me for reasons I don't recall.
Knowing me, it could've been anything. I may have shown them my penis.
PURE was supposed to be next. We didn't make it there, though. Because the organizers fucked up and put us with the wrong group.
I'm fairly certain it's because they were getting Alzheimer's. Seriously, they looked like something out of a penthouse-for-seniors magazine. Fake tits that pointed off in the wrong directions, blonde out of a bottle, bad plastic surgery and face lifts, lips with too many injections, tans out of a can, and porn star length fake nails.
I decided to point out their flaws.
So, the pub crawl, for me, ended at the twenty four hour MacDonald's in the Luxor hotel.
Still one of the best nights of my life.
And, considering I made out with the hottest Russian blonde I've ever met the night before... in a strip club... where she was working... I'd say that's saying a lot.
I told you: Vegas and me are buddies.
Thursday, 13 September 2012
One night for a forty
A friend of mine recently took a road trip to come visit me.
We've kind of started a tradition of going to horror movies. And taking a bottle of rum.
It makes them so much more fun to watch, and the drunk sex afterwards is always crazy.
Yah, I'm that guy laughing at the screen when the creepy fetus-looking motherfucker slowly crawls back into the definitely-not-kosher box.
She got to my place wearing a trench coat.
My first thought was, "WTF?"
It was scorching heat.
My second thought was, "Oh, fuck. Yes."
She undid the jacket and tossed it.
Lingerie. Fucking hot lingerie.
So, supper can wait a couple hours.
We started drinking immediately after.
By the end of the movie, we were both smashed. And thanks to her remote control vibrator, she was ready to pounce.
We waited until everyone was out of the theater and she jumped on top of me. And again as soon as we got in the car.
But, the rum continued to flow into my veins, and by the time we got into my bed, I experienced something for the first time.
Whiskey dick.
I went down on her until my tongue was sore.
Nothing. Nadda.
And my head was spinning from the alcohol.
I gave into my flaccid fate, and laid down.
I couldn't close my eyes. I got that thing where you have to stare at one spot or everything goes yuck. I decided to hop in the shower to sober up a bit, and ended up doing the same thing. I was staring at the tub spout for a good half hour before I finally felt well enough to close my eyes. I crawled back into bed and passed out.
In retrospect, I should have seen what was coming for me the next day. I experienced, let's say, a moderate amount of gastric distress.
The plan was to spend all day fucking the next day before she went home.
Stomach issues, and fucking, don't go so well together.
It's hard to remain erect when you're focused on trying not to shit yourself.
I was useless the whole day.
The rum had destroyed my insides and performed essentially the same function on my intestines as Draino does to the kitchen pipes.
What's worse is that it was the first time I'd shit around this particular friend. So, I was very conscious about making any noise. I tried all kinds of positions to try to have a silent shit. I flushed a couple times before standing up, every time. And, it's one of those toilets where the water level is maybe four inches deep, so I had to scrub the shit streaks off the back of the bowl.
I'd already shit my way into one man's nightmares, I didn't need to permanently damage another person's mental health with my anus shenanigans.
Sure, she'd heard stories about my I.B.S, but with her I'd always managed to get home - or at least a gas station.
On this day, not only was it the first time I shit near her, it was also the sixth.
I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure that's close to a record for me.
We've kind of started a tradition of going to horror movies. And taking a bottle of rum.
It makes them so much more fun to watch, and the drunk sex afterwards is always crazy.
Yah, I'm that guy laughing at the screen when the creepy fetus-looking motherfucker slowly crawls back into the definitely-not-kosher box.
She got to my place wearing a trench coat.
My first thought was, "WTF?"
It was scorching heat.
My second thought was, "Oh, fuck. Yes."
She undid the jacket and tossed it.
Lingerie. Fucking hot lingerie.
So, supper can wait a couple hours.
We started drinking immediately after.
By the end of the movie, we were both smashed. And thanks to her remote control vibrator, she was ready to pounce.
We waited until everyone was out of the theater and she jumped on top of me. And again as soon as we got in the car.
But, the rum continued to flow into my veins, and by the time we got into my bed, I experienced something for the first time.
Whiskey dick.
I went down on her until my tongue was sore.
Nothing. Nadda.
And my head was spinning from the alcohol.
I gave into my flaccid fate, and laid down.
I couldn't close my eyes. I got that thing where you have to stare at one spot or everything goes yuck. I decided to hop in the shower to sober up a bit, and ended up doing the same thing. I was staring at the tub spout for a good half hour before I finally felt well enough to close my eyes. I crawled back into bed and passed out.
In retrospect, I should have seen what was coming for me the next day. I experienced, let's say, a moderate amount of gastric distress.
The plan was to spend all day fucking the next day before she went home.
Stomach issues, and fucking, don't go so well together.
It's hard to remain erect when you're focused on trying not to shit yourself.
I was useless the whole day.
The rum had destroyed my insides and performed essentially the same function on my intestines as Draino does to the kitchen pipes.
What's worse is that it was the first time I'd shit around this particular friend. So, I was very conscious about making any noise. I tried all kinds of positions to try to have a silent shit. I flushed a couple times before standing up, every time. And, it's one of those toilets where the water level is maybe four inches deep, so I had to scrub the shit streaks off the back of the bowl.
I'd already shit my way into one man's nightmares, I didn't need to permanently damage another person's mental health with my anus shenanigans.
Sure, she'd heard stories about my I.B.S, but with her I'd always managed to get home - or at least a gas station.
On this day, not only was it the first time I shit near her, it was also the sixth.
I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure that's close to a record for me.
Tuesday, 4 September 2012
Just the tip
I remember my first time like it was this afternoon. It was clearly before I started drinking.
I'd met the girl on Sunday. At church.
By Tuesday we were parked in her dad's Jeep naked. But, we were both virgins, so I was still fairly new at everything, and didn't get up the nerve to stick it in her.
It so happened that my parents were going to be away, and I'd have the house to myself for a few days the following weekend. So, I invited her over and let her know it'd just be us two.
The next few days leading up to the weekend were a blur. I couldn't think about anything else.
She came over in the evenings, and we would try to sneak away to make out. My dad would always find us and tell us that we weren't allowed in a room by ourselves.
He's such a cock block.
As soon as the weekend came, and they pulled out of the driveway, I called her and told her to come over. I was super nervous, but I had a plan. I'd found some decent skin cream, and told her I wanted to give her a massage.
I know. Super cheesy. But it worked, dammit.
I ended up on my knees, upright, with her legs around me, both of us naked on the floor. I put the tip in a tiny bit and looked at her.
She gave me a nod.
We fucked.
It was awesome. It went on forever. We moved from the floor to the couch, from the couch to the bed, from the bed back to the floor. We did it doggy style, standing, cowgirl, couch cowgirl, missionary, any positionI could think of I could remember seeing in any form of porn.
After, we just collapsed in exhaustion. She asked me if I was sure I'd never done that before.
It would be nice if the story ended there.
But, you know me. I always have terrible, terrible luck.
A couple weeks later, she told me she needed to come see me at work.
I thought she wanted to bring me lunch at my shitty summer job.
Nope.
She had taken a pregnancy test, and it was positive.
You know that feeling you get just before you jump off the high dive platform for the first time?
Panic.
I don't remember anything else that happened the rest of the day. I just remember sitting at a desk listening to the ringing in my ears.
My parents were right. I had destroyed my life. By having sex ONE TIME.
I was totally fucked.
But, I had apparently done something right in the universe, and karma decided that this would be a good time to utilize the 2% error rate on the pregnancy tests.
She called me a few nights later from work, "I got it! I'm not pregnant! Oh my god, please tell me you didn't tell your parents, yet!"
I hadn't even figured out how to start that conversation yet. So, luckily, I hadn't told anyone about it.
What an incredible feeling of relief. And freedom.
I swore to myself I'd never make that mistake again.
We celebrated by parking in my dad's car, and fucking each other senseless in the back seat.
Seemed appropriate.
I'd met the girl on Sunday. At church.
By Tuesday we were parked in her dad's Jeep naked. But, we were both virgins, so I was still fairly new at everything, and didn't get up the nerve to stick it in her.
It so happened that my parents were going to be away, and I'd have the house to myself for a few days the following weekend. So, I invited her over and let her know it'd just be us two.
The next few days leading up to the weekend were a blur. I couldn't think about anything else.
She came over in the evenings, and we would try to sneak away to make out. My dad would always find us and tell us that we weren't allowed in a room by ourselves.
He's such a cock block.
As soon as the weekend came, and they pulled out of the driveway, I called her and told her to come over. I was super nervous, but I had a plan. I'd found some decent skin cream, and told her I wanted to give her a massage.
I know. Super cheesy. But it worked, dammit.
I ended up on my knees, upright, with her legs around me, both of us naked on the floor. I put the tip in a tiny bit and looked at her.
She gave me a nod.
We fucked.
It was awesome. It went on forever. We moved from the floor to the couch, from the couch to the bed, from the bed back to the floor. We did it doggy style, standing, cowgirl, couch cowgirl, missionary, any position
After, we just collapsed in exhaustion. She asked me if I was sure I'd never done that before.
It would be nice if the story ended there.
But, you know me. I always have terrible, terrible luck.
A couple weeks later, she told me she needed to come see me at work.
I thought she wanted to bring me lunch at my shitty summer job.
Nope.
She had taken a pregnancy test, and it was positive.
You know that feeling you get just before you jump off the high dive platform for the first time?
Panic.
I don't remember anything else that happened the rest of the day. I just remember sitting at a desk listening to the ringing in my ears.
My parents were right. I had destroyed my life. By having sex ONE TIME.
I was totally fucked.
But, I had apparently done something right in the universe, and karma decided that this would be a good time to utilize the 2% error rate on the pregnancy tests.
She called me a few nights later from work, "I got it! I'm not pregnant! Oh my god, please tell me you didn't tell your parents, yet!"
I hadn't even figured out how to start that conversation yet. So, luckily, I hadn't told anyone about it.
What an incredible feeling of relief. And freedom.
I swore to myself I'd never make that mistake again.
We celebrated by parking in my dad's car, and fucking each other senseless in the back seat.
Seemed appropriate.
Sunday, 26 August 2012
Fourth and foremost
I've mentioned it before.
And, I've decided that it's time for another horror story.
I've only been drunk to the point of sickness four times. I've already mentioned three.
The fourth was the most recent, and as far as horror stories go, isn't that bad. I always tell people I'm a fast learner. And I think that's the only reason this one turned out relatively okay.
A few months ago, my bartender buddy and I made plans to hit the (small) town he lives in hard. I was in town for work, so it wasn't even a weekend.
It was a Wednesday. There was only one club even open to go to.
I invited a few people I'd met recently to join us for some schooners to start off the night.
I just tried to look up 'schooner' to show how big that fucking glass is.
Maybe it's a local thing.
The Houston Pizza here sells $5 schooners every night. Draught beer in a giant beer mug.
The things are so big, they're hard to lift.
My right bicep is about twice the size of my left from lifting them.
No, that's not from masturbating, those muscles are lower down. I checked.
Each schooner holds close to two liters of beer - about three beer bottles worth.
I downed three.
My buddy said that he had a few other friends he wanted to meet up with at another pub, and I decided I wanted to eat something that didn't suck (food at Houston Pizza is pretty awful), so we all bounced to the pub.
I got another schooner.
And now, we had a full table of people drinking with us. My buddy's inner bartender came out and he ordered shots.
And more shots.
There was a new tray of shots every time the old shot glasses were removed.
We were only there for an hour.
I split the bill for shots with my buddy 50%. I paid $195.00
I didn't even know what the shots were. There was the taste of Jack Daniels in some. Vodka in others.
Each tray was a different color. It was a rainbow of drunk. A veritable cornucopia of bad decisions.
I don't remember how we got to the club, but we double-fisted jagerbombs as soon as we walked in.
Bank account evidence suggests I pulled out another $200 for drinks when we got there. I don't remember pulling it out, or spending it. I only had a twenty in my pocket the next morning.
The place was packed, and I remember thinking to myself, "Who parties on a Wednesday?" Then, I threw my hand in the air and yelled, "I DO!"
People stared at me.
I gave a loud whoop and high-fived everyone in a twenty foot radius.
I knew one of the hot bartenders, and she kept giving me jugs of rum and coke. I think I only paid for half of them.
It's always good to make friends with the hot girls behind the counter. When you can be ten feet behind the line, make eye contact and nod, and have your drink ready by the time you shove your way up there, other people get jealous. And curious.
Curious women are interested women.
Interested women are easy to talk to.
And once I start talking, it always turns to sexual conversation and making out in a hurry.
But, when I'm that drunk, I get A.D.D, and have a hard time paying attention long enough to escalate beyond that. And every time I go through my contacts list on my phone, I always have a bunch of numbers to delete because I have NO FUCKING IDEA who the numbers are for.
'Triansdsi' isn't a name. Fairly certian.
And, why did I add a guy named 'Travis'?
After that, the next thing I remember is being in the hotel lobby about two blocks away from the club.
I was having a conversation with the concierge, and she called me a cab.
I was by myself.
At one point, I realized I felt like I was spitting a lot - which, I've learned, is one of my warning signs I'm about to puke. I asked where the washrooms were, and she told me I'd have to use the ones downstairs.
There were four flights of stairs.
FOUR FUCKING FLIGHTS OF STAIRS.
I got about half way and started to imagine those scenes in horror movies where people split up and the one guy heads for the basement.
He's usually the first to go.
By the time I got to the washroom, I'd forgotten why I'd made the trip.
So, I pulled my pants down and sat. Seemed reasonable.
But, I realized after a minute that was not the reason I was there.
I had backed up on the seat as much as possible so I could spit in the bowl while I was sitting there, when the first wave came.
My aim was nearly perfect.
I threw up everything.
Five hours of beer, rum, shots, Jagermeister, and something I'd eaten.
All of it sent propelling through the gap between me and the front of the toilet bowl, and between my spread legs. Straight down.
It was comfortable. And almost enjoyable.
I felt like laughing in between spurts of vomit.
The first time I drunk puked, it cost me $150 on a hotel bill.
This time, I not only didn't have to worry about a bill, I didn't get a drop on myself.
I wiped my face off in the sink and laughed at my accidental genius. Fucking brilliant! "This is how I do it from now on," I said to myself.
I got back to the front desk just as my cab was pulling up, and went home.
Fast learner? Maybe. Too stupid to know the difference between "I need to shit" and "I need to puke"? Yes, indeed.
Willing to still count it as a win? Absolutely.
And, I've decided that it's time for another horror story.
I've only been drunk to the point of sickness four times. I've already mentioned three.
The fourth was the most recent, and as far as horror stories go, isn't that bad. I always tell people I'm a fast learner. And I think that's the only reason this one turned out relatively okay.
A few months ago, my bartender buddy and I made plans to hit the (small) town he lives in hard. I was in town for work, so it wasn't even a weekend.
It was a Wednesday. There was only one club even open to go to.
I invited a few people I'd met recently to join us for some schooners to start off the night.
I just tried to look up 'schooner' to show how big that fucking glass is.
Maybe it's a local thing.
The Houston Pizza here sells $5 schooners every night. Draught beer in a giant beer mug.
The things are so big, they're hard to lift.
My right bicep is about twice the size of my left from lifting them.
No, that's not from masturbating, those muscles are lower down. I checked.
Each schooner holds close to two liters of beer - about three beer bottles worth.
I downed three.
My buddy said that he had a few other friends he wanted to meet up with at another pub, and I decided I wanted to eat something that didn't suck (food at Houston Pizza is pretty awful), so we all bounced to the pub.
I got another schooner.
And now, we had a full table of people drinking with us. My buddy's inner bartender came out and he ordered shots.
And more shots.
There was a new tray of shots every time the old shot glasses were removed.
We were only there for an hour.
I split the bill for shots with my buddy 50%. I paid $195.00
I didn't even know what the shots were. There was the taste of Jack Daniels in some. Vodka in others.
Each tray was a different color. It was a rainbow of drunk. A veritable cornucopia of bad decisions.
I don't remember how we got to the club, but we double-fisted jagerbombs as soon as we walked in.
Bank account evidence suggests I pulled out another $200 for drinks when we got there. I don't remember pulling it out, or spending it. I only had a twenty in my pocket the next morning.
The place was packed, and I remember thinking to myself, "Who parties on a Wednesday?" Then, I threw my hand in the air and yelled, "I DO!"
People stared at me.
I gave a loud whoop and high-fived everyone in a twenty foot radius.
I knew one of the hot bartenders, and she kept giving me jugs of rum and coke. I think I only paid for half of them.
It's always good to make friends with the hot girls behind the counter. When you can be ten feet behind the line, make eye contact and nod, and have your drink ready by the time you shove your way up there, other people get jealous. And curious.
Curious women are interested women.
Interested women are easy to talk to.
And once I start talking, it always turns to sexual conversation and making out in a hurry.
But, when I'm that drunk, I get A.D.D, and have a hard time paying attention long enough to escalate beyond that. And every time I go through my contacts list on my phone, I always have a bunch of numbers to delete because I have NO FUCKING IDEA who the numbers are for.
'Triansdsi' isn't a name. Fairly certian.
And, why did I add a guy named 'Travis'?
After that, the next thing I remember is being in the hotel lobby about two blocks away from the club.
I was having a conversation with the concierge, and she called me a cab.
I was by myself.
At one point, I realized I felt like I was spitting a lot - which, I've learned, is one of my warning signs I'm about to puke. I asked where the washrooms were, and she told me I'd have to use the ones downstairs.
There were four flights of stairs.
FOUR FUCKING FLIGHTS OF STAIRS.
I got about half way and started to imagine those scenes in horror movies where people split up and the one guy heads for the basement.
He's usually the first to go.
By the time I got to the washroom, I'd forgotten why I'd made the trip.
So, I pulled my pants down and sat. Seemed reasonable.
But, I realized after a minute that was not the reason I was there.
I had backed up on the seat as much as possible so I could spit in the bowl while I was sitting there, when the first wave came.
My aim was nearly perfect.
I threw up everything.
Five hours of beer, rum, shots, Jagermeister, and something I'd eaten.
All of it sent propelling through the gap between me and the front of the toilet bowl, and between my spread legs. Straight down.
It was comfortable. And almost enjoyable.
I felt like laughing in between spurts of vomit.
The first time I drunk puked, it cost me $150 on a hotel bill.
This time, I not only didn't have to worry about a bill, I didn't get a drop on myself.
I wiped my face off in the sink and laughed at my accidental genius. Fucking brilliant! "This is how I do it from now on," I said to myself.
I got back to the front desk just as my cab was pulling up, and went home.
Fast learner? Maybe. Too stupid to know the difference between "I need to shit" and "I need to puke"? Yes, indeed.
Willing to still count it as a win? Absolutely.
Thursday, 16 August 2012
Field report
*This is a 'field report' I wrote after a night out in Calgary*
So a couple weeks ago, I went out with a couple of the guys from here in Calgary. Met up at Max's place (sorry, don't know your nickname on here), with Max and Conan.
It was the first time I'd met either of them, but they both seemed like decent guys.
We drove to Ten, and got in line. I started opening everyone around us: guys, and girls. There were a set of 3 that ended up right behind us in line that I started gaming, and was doing very well with. I noticed that neither Max nor Conan were really getting involved, though, so even though I picked a target, I kind of had to continue gaming all three and making up for their comments of: "why are your friends so shy?"
I tried to isolate all 3 of them at one point (with the intention of bouncing with them - a triple-pull before we even get into the club? epic win), but got major cock-block action from Max and Conan... I have to say, I thought it was REALLY weird that a wingman would EVER cock-block an isolation so hard. Still had my target begging for attention (like, physically tapping me/grabbing me to turn and talk to her) before we even got inside. In hind-sight, I should have pursued her more. She was super cute!
While at Ten, Conan was opening some hotties (good job, bro!) - he told me that he's working on approaching: so I thought things were going well for him.
Max kind of just texted people the whole time, and I was trying to feel out his style. He's a decent looking guy, and could probably just eye fuck a girl across the bar and gesture for her to come over - which I thought he was doing. Just using a really relaxed gaming style and being dominant using the 'strong silent type', which seemed to fit.
I opened a bunch of girls by the bar, and outside, on the dance floor, on my way back from the washroom... just everywhere. So I was in a good mood, feeling very social, and had an almost ridiculous level of social proof.
Max told me he was tired of Ten (which I had no idea why, and with his accent, it was hard to tell what he was saying most of the night), and wanted to bounce to the Roadhouse, since there were some other guys there that he knew. I thought it'd be a good opportunity to meet a couple more of the guys from here, and after looking for Conan for a few minutes (sorry, man, we looked for you, honest), we bounced.
As usual, the Roadhouse was mostly dudes, one hot beer tub server, one hot shot server, and two hot patrons. The rest was a shit show.
But, I figured I'd follow Max to these guys he'd mentioned, and we'd laugh at the ugly chics until our sides were sore.
Max switched up his game at this point - from the laid back strong silent type to: I'm on a fuckin mission! Told me we should open with 'Let's get out of here' or 'Let's go fuck'. Which I didn't actually want to do with anyone there, but I said sure, and we started opening. After walking around the bar about 50 times, I felt like all the social proof and good mood I had earlier were compeltely gone. I knew the servers had to talk to me, so I started opening the hot ones.
Talked to the shooter girl (and made some good progress with kino - and got her digits) for about 25-35 minutes. Any time you can get the shooter girl to stick around without buying anything is a pretty good win in itself. Max came up at one point and wanted a fist bump... I was like: wtf, I guess he wants you to fist bump him - so she did. He kept his fist out and pointed at me! *bump* *thanks-for-making-this-awkward*
10 seconds later, shooter girl 'has a boyfriend'. Go figure... thanks Max...
I opened one of the servers behing the bar using my soft hands bit, got her to lean forward and held her jaw with both hands with my face about 10 cm away from hers. She gave me 'fuck me' eyes and smacked my chest. Told me she had to work, stop distracting her. Win.
Feeling a little better, I started opening some chics that looked like they were having a good time. Hung out with them until the end of the night. Neither were particularly attractive, but they had some interesting stories, and one is pretty high up at Desperados (some kind of management position in the office), and gave me her number so I could get VIP if I *ever* wanted to go to Desperados (no thanks, but thanks anyway...)
Max had disappeared by this point - told me later that he bounced with some chic (I have NO IDEA who he'd want to, but okay), but ended up too drunk and passed out as soon as he got home with her.
I was kind of disappointed with the ending of the night, but had a lot of fun at Ten, so I called it a win (got two servers' numbers, so that's kind of cool, too), and went to my buddy's to crash for the night.
I'd like to wing Conan again at some point (PM me your number, bro), but I think Max's style kind of clashes with mine. I couldn't figure out what he was doing half the time, but I felt obligated to wing him for the first while since that's why I was there... It works for him, so I'm not hatin'.
Later, people. I'll let you know when I'm in town again.
So a couple weeks ago, I went out with a couple of the guys from here in Calgary. Met up at Max's place (sorry, don't know your nickname on here), with Max and Conan.
It was the first time I'd met either of them, but they both seemed like decent guys.
We drove to Ten, and got in line. I started opening everyone around us: guys, and girls. There were a set of 3 that ended up right behind us in line that I started gaming, and was doing very well with. I noticed that neither Max nor Conan were really getting involved, though, so even though I picked a target, I kind of had to continue gaming all three and making up for their comments of: "why are your friends so shy?"
I tried to isolate all 3 of them at one point (with the intention of bouncing with them - a triple-pull before we even get into the club? epic win), but got major cock-block action from Max and Conan... I have to say, I thought it was REALLY weird that a wingman would EVER cock-block an isolation so hard. Still had my target begging for attention (like, physically tapping me/grabbing me to turn and talk to her) before we even got inside. In hind-sight, I should have pursued her more. She was super cute!
While at Ten, Conan was opening some hotties (good job, bro!) - he told me that he's working on approaching: so I thought things were going well for him.
Max kind of just texted people the whole time, and I was trying to feel out his style. He's a decent looking guy, and could probably just eye fuck a girl across the bar and gesture for her to come over - which I thought he was doing. Just using a really relaxed gaming style and being dominant using the 'strong silent type', which seemed to fit.
I opened a bunch of girls by the bar, and outside, on the dance floor, on my way back from the washroom... just everywhere. So I was in a good mood, feeling very social, and had an almost ridiculous level of social proof.
Max told me he was tired of Ten (which I had no idea why, and with his accent, it was hard to tell what he was saying most of the night), and wanted to bounce to the Roadhouse, since there were some other guys there that he knew. I thought it'd be a good opportunity to meet a couple more of the guys from here, and after looking for Conan for a few minutes (sorry, man, we looked for you, honest), we bounced.
As usual, the Roadhouse was mostly dudes, one hot beer tub server, one hot shot server, and two hot patrons. The rest was a shit show.
But, I figured I'd follow Max to these guys he'd mentioned, and we'd laugh at the ugly chics until our sides were sore.
Max switched up his game at this point - from the laid back strong silent type to: I'm on a fuckin mission! Told me we should open with 'Let's get out of here' or 'Let's go fuck'. Which I didn't actually want to do with anyone there, but I said sure, and we started opening. After walking around the bar about 50 times, I felt like all the social proof and good mood I had earlier were compeltely gone. I knew the servers had to talk to me, so I started opening the hot ones.
Talked to the shooter girl (and made some good progress with kino - and got her digits) for about 25-35 minutes. Any time you can get the shooter girl to stick around without buying anything is a pretty good win in itself. Max came up at one point and wanted a fist bump... I was like: wtf, I guess he wants you to fist bump him - so she did. He kept his fist out and pointed at me! *bump* *thanks-for-making-this-awkward*
10 seconds later, shooter girl 'has a boyfriend'. Go figure... thanks Max...
I opened one of the servers behing the bar using my soft hands bit, got her to lean forward and held her jaw with both hands with my face about 10 cm away from hers. She gave me 'fuck me' eyes and smacked my chest. Told me she had to work, stop distracting her. Win.
Feeling a little better, I started opening some chics that looked like they were having a good time. Hung out with them until the end of the night. Neither were particularly attractive, but they had some interesting stories, and one is pretty high up at Desperados (some kind of management position in the office), and gave me her number so I could get VIP if I *ever* wanted to go to Desperados (no thanks, but thanks anyway...)
Max had disappeared by this point - told me later that he bounced with some chic (I have NO IDEA who he'd want to, but okay), but ended up too drunk and passed out as soon as he got home with her.
I was kind of disappointed with the ending of the night, but had a lot of fun at Ten, so I called it a win (got two servers' numbers, so that's kind of cool, too), and went to my buddy's to crash for the night.
I'd like to wing Conan again at some point (PM me your number, bro), but I think Max's style kind of clashes with mine. I couldn't figure out what he was doing half the time, but I felt obligated to wing him for the first while since that's why I was there... It works for him, so I'm not hatin'.
Later, people. I'll let you know when I'm in town again.
Wednesday, 8 August 2012
The fuzz
After my first year of university, I found myself without money.
And, even though my relationship with my parents was pretty tense, I decided to move home so I could pay down some debts and get ahead a bit.
Living at home wasn't great. I'd stopped following the rules when I was twelve. I had been pretty good at hiding that fact from my parents for a very long time. But, I was started to get to the point where I didn't give a fuck anymore, and stopped fearing the consequences.
I was getting caught more often, and for worse and worse things.
Finally, a call from the cops sent my parents over the edge.
No money = no car. So, I was constantly borrowing one of theirs.
No money = no hotel room for sexy time. So, I was constantly having sex in one of their cars.
I'm fairly certain that at one point, I'd banged someone in the back seat of every one of their vehicles:
The minivan.
The 'kids' car (an old sports car).
Dad's car.
Mom's car.
And, my brother's car (yah, he got his own... fucker).
I was in the minivan with this girl, out in a field. Apparently, the old factory within line of sight was 'worried that we were terrorists', and called the cops.
Stupid people.
To be fair, it was a fertilizer chemical plant. Like, the kind of chemicals that blew up a building in Oklahoma. And, I'd been parked there every night for three weeks.
My extra sensory hearing picked up the sirens from a distance, and I told her that we should get dressed and start moving.
We half-ass threw our clothes on, and started driving away, just as the cops pulled around the corner with their lights on. They pulled a u-turn so fast I was surprised they didn't flip the van.
I pulled over, and said, "I'll do the talking, relax."
But, as soon as I rolled down the window, this girl blurts, "We were just talking, I had a really bad day!"
The cop looked at my unzipped pants, and saw the panties clinging to the head rest of one of the back seats.
He gave me an unimpressed look.
"You guys shouldn't be out here. You're scaring the businesses."
When you are not the owner of a vehicle, and you get caught having sex in it... the cops call the owner of the vehicle.
So, when I got home my mom was sitting in the kitchen staring at the door. With her arms folded. With that look on her face.
The one she gets when she's caught me for something, and wants to rub it in my face. Why do parents even have that look?
So, the ultimatum. 'Obey the rules, or find your own place to live'.
My dad put a contract in front of me. It was titled 'The Rules I Promise to Live By'.
It included:
- Wake up at 7:00 am every morning
- Make my bed every day
- Be home by 11:00 every night
- Go to church on Sunday
- No alcohol
- No drugs
- No intercourse (yes, it said 'intercourse')
- No girls in my room with the door closed
- Maintain a driving log: times, dates, and locations
I moved out five days later.
And, I still don't make my bed every day.
And, even though my relationship with my parents was pretty tense, I decided to move home so I could pay down some debts and get ahead a bit.
Living at home wasn't great. I'd stopped following the rules when I was twelve. I had been pretty good at hiding that fact from my parents for a very long time. But, I was started to get to the point where I didn't give a fuck anymore, and stopped fearing the consequences.
I was getting caught more often, and for worse and worse things.
Finally, a call from the cops sent my parents over the edge.
No money = no car. So, I was constantly borrowing one of theirs.
No money = no hotel room for sexy time. So, I was constantly having sex in one of their cars.
I'm fairly certain that at one point, I'd banged someone in the back seat of every one of their vehicles:
The minivan.
The 'kids' car (an old sports car).
Dad's car.
Mom's car.
And, my brother's car (yah, he got his own... fucker).
I was in the minivan with this girl, out in a field. Apparently, the old factory within line of sight was 'worried that we were terrorists', and called the cops.
Stupid people.
To be fair, it was a fertilizer chemical plant. Like, the kind of chemicals that blew up a building in Oklahoma. And, I'd been parked there every night for three weeks.
My extra sensory hearing picked up the sirens from a distance, and I told her that we should get dressed and start moving.
We half-ass threw our clothes on, and started driving away, just as the cops pulled around the corner with their lights on. They pulled a u-turn so fast I was surprised they didn't flip the van.
I pulled over, and said, "I'll do the talking, relax."
But, as soon as I rolled down the window, this girl blurts, "We were just talking, I had a really bad day!"
The cop looked at my unzipped pants, and saw the panties clinging to the head rest of one of the back seats.
He gave me an unimpressed look.
"You guys shouldn't be out here. You're scaring the businesses."
When you are not the owner of a vehicle, and you get caught having sex in it... the cops call the owner of the vehicle.
So, when I got home my mom was sitting in the kitchen staring at the door. With her arms folded. With that look on her face.
The one she gets when she's caught me for something, and wants to rub it in my face. Why do parents even have that look?
So, the ultimatum. 'Obey the rules, or find your own place to live'.
My dad put a contract in front of me. It was titled 'The Rules I Promise to Live By'.
It included:
- Wake up at 7:00 am every morning
- Make my bed every day
- Be home by 11:00 every night
- Go to church on Sunday
- No alcohol
- No drugs
- No intercourse (yes, it said 'intercourse')
- No girls in my room with the door closed
- Maintain a driving log: times, dates, and locations
I moved out five days later.
And, I still don't make my bed every day.
Friday, 27 July 2012
Encounters of a sexual kind
There was a time in my life when I had yet to experience really anything sexual. Hard to believe... but we were all there at one point.
It wasn't until I was about thirteen that I had my first real hook up. I mean, I'd played 'doctor' and played with a few vaginas, but nothing really beyond that.
My brother met a California girl at a youth conference, and invited her to come visit the family for a week a few months later.
She was a surfer girl. With a great body.
And she was nineteen.
The tension between us was pretty serious, and after fooling around a bit we both ended up naked in my room and she gave me my first blow job. Even back then, I had pretty good control, and never 'came to fruition'.
In fact, I had never EVER cum before.
I hadn't really thought about it before then. But, when she asked me how often I jacked off to have that kind of control, I didn't know what to say. I just shrugged my shoulders.
Was it weird that at thirteen I hadn't ever jacked off yet?
I decided that I wanted to have a serious answer the next time a hot girl asked me that. Especially a hot girl who was naked on top of me who asked me that.
So the next night, I was laying in bed, and decided that it was the night.
I was going to lose my masturbation virginity.
Since I hadn't done it before, when I started stroking, and as it started to feel awesome, I started also gripping my cock in my hand like a fucking vice.
It took me a few minutes, but when I came my ears were ringing, and I could barely breathe.
It was epic.
I let go of my penis and noticed for the first time that I had been gripping it pretty hard. I didn't really think anything of it, though.
Men do this all the time, right? Any side effects must be worth it.
I cleaned myself up and passed out.
The next day I was startled awake when I rolled over because it felt like someone had punched me in the urethra. I grabbed my package and nearly screamed in agony.
I could barely walk to the washroom to see what was going on.
When I pulled off my boxers, I nearly lost my shit.
My cock was about three times the size in diameter as normal. Subcutaneous fluid filled what I can only describe as 'cock rolls'. My cock had been transformed into the Michelin man overnight, and was dripping clear fluid from between the cracks of swollen skin.
Touching any part of it caused a severe burning sensation.
I started to tear up. This couldn't really be happening. How could people deal with this on a regular basis? Why would anybody wish this upon themselves?
HOW EXACTLY WAS I SUPPOSED TO ASK SOMEONE FOR HELP?
I walked funny for three days. And I had to learn how to pee free form, no hands... for over a week.
I didn't jack off again for nearly a year after that.
But, remembering how good it felt, of course decided to try it again. I used a super light touch, and even though it took longer to achieve, still felt awesome. And my penis looked normal the next day.
My penis and I have had a pretty solid relationship ever since.
It wasn't until I was about thirteen that I had my first real hook up. I mean, I'd played 'doctor' and played with a few vaginas, but nothing really beyond that.
My brother met a California girl at a youth conference, and invited her to come visit the family for a week a few months later.
She was a surfer girl. With a great body.
And she was nineteen.
The tension between us was pretty serious, and after fooling around a bit we both ended up naked in my room and she gave me my first blow job. Even back then, I had pretty good control, and never 'came to fruition'.
In fact, I had never EVER cum before.
I hadn't really thought about it before then. But, when she asked me how often I jacked off to have that kind of control, I didn't know what to say. I just shrugged my shoulders.
Was it weird that at thirteen I hadn't ever jacked off yet?
I decided that I wanted to have a serious answer the next time a hot girl asked me that. Especially a hot girl who was naked on top of me who asked me that.
So the next night, I was laying in bed, and decided that it was the night.
I was going to lose my masturbation virginity.
Since I hadn't done it before, when I started stroking, and as it started to feel awesome, I started also gripping my cock in my hand like a fucking vice.
It took me a few minutes, but when I came my ears were ringing, and I could barely breathe.
It was epic.
I let go of my penis and noticed for the first time that I had been gripping it pretty hard. I didn't really think anything of it, though.
Men do this all the time, right? Any side effects must be worth it.
I cleaned myself up and passed out.
The next day I was startled awake when I rolled over because it felt like someone had punched me in the urethra. I grabbed my package and nearly screamed in agony.
I could barely walk to the washroom to see what was going on.
When I pulled off my boxers, I nearly lost my shit.
My cock was about three times the size in diameter as normal. Subcutaneous fluid filled what I can only describe as 'cock rolls'. My cock had been transformed into the Michelin man overnight, and was dripping clear fluid from between the cracks of swollen skin.
Touching any part of it caused a severe burning sensation.
I started to tear up. This couldn't really be happening. How could people deal with this on a regular basis? Why would anybody wish this upon themselves?
HOW EXACTLY WAS I SUPPOSED TO ASK SOMEONE FOR HELP?
I walked funny for three days. And I had to learn how to pee free form, no hands... for over a week.
I didn't jack off again for nearly a year after that.
But, remembering how good it felt, of course decided to try it again. I used a super light touch, and even though it took longer to achieve, still felt awesome. And my penis looked normal the next day.
My penis and I have had a pretty solid relationship ever since.
Thursday, 19 July 2012
Repercussions
I've been to Vegas a couple of times. The first time I was there, I set the bar pretty high.
I really had no idea what to expect.
My buddy Jess and I made an itinerary to make sure we hit all the night clubs and strip clubs we could in our short stay.
We didn't really care about gambling, we came to Vegas to see some nipples.
Originally, we had planned on walking or taking the monorail to get places on the strip. But, since we were retarded and planned our trip at the end of August, we ended up taking cabs.
Walking during a summer month in Vegas was out of the question. At one point early on, we decided to walk from Belagio to Treasure Island. We got about 400 yards before my ball sweat was dripping down my legs. I could feel my ass cheeks gliding across each other every time I took another step. I had a small river-o'-sweat emerging at my neck which flowed all the way down my spine.
The monorail sounds great, and looks like it's close to the strip on a map.
Incorrect.
Every block on the strip is huge. Walking from the monorail station to Las Vegas Blvd once again induced dripping ball sack.
We arrived close to midnight the first night, and decided not to waste the night and headed to a fully nude strip club. It was an adult store with dildos and DVDs with a small curtain that lead to the back room. The bouncers looked like something out of a 80s porno. Slicked back hair, thick gold sunglasses, and gold chains with thick chest hair coming out of floral patterned shirts.
They let us through to the back room. After a narrow hallway with two small private rooms, it opened up again and had an area with a stage and some space with a bunch of seating.
I asked for a beer, and the girl behind the counter snarled at me.
"We're a fully nude club. No alcohol."
It took a second to register. I was unaware of this rule. Legal drinking age in Nevada is 21, legal stripping age is 18. So all the 18-20 year olds were stripping at the fully nude clubs, but no alcohol was allowed.
'Merica, right?
I ordered a cola and went and sat on sniffer's row with Jess. We were the only customers.
We put our stack of ones down beside us, and mostly chatted with each other, because the stage show wasn't great. One of the girls slid down the pole too quickly and landed on her tailbone. She was overweight and performed like it was her first time out of the house.
Jess and I looked at each other with disbelief, just as she swiped all of Jess's stack and plopped the bills on the stage.
She looked at me and gestured towards the bouncers. "Taking money off the stage will get you kicked out."
What. The. Flying. Fuck.
I moved my stack farther away from her and Jess went to the 'bar' to grab more bills.
"Well, you're not getting any of mine. You might as well just get off the stage."
She called me an asshole and grabbed her stuff.
The next girl was much cuter, but was still clearly an amateur. We convinced her to give us a free private show and took pictures of her getting naked and making out with me.
All in all we'd spent about $25. I guess you get what you pay for, I was pretty disappointed. I'd heard so much about the Vegas strip clubs, and this first one was just not good.
The second night we went to Badda Bing. I made a call to get the free limo service to the club.
Lap dances here were $10. I nearly shit myself. I thought I was in heaven.
Until I had a stage five clinger offering me a dance.
She was probably in her forties, wearing a sheer black outfit that showed off her baby belly and c-section scar. Bottle blonde hair with inch long roots showing, and floppy arm and leg skin like she had recently lost significant weight.
She sat on my lap and whispered in my ear. I tried to ignore her, but it just encouraged her to try harder.
I nearly offered her $10 just to leave me alone, but figured I'd get the lap dance out of it, anyway. So I caved.
I nearly fell asleep. She was boring as hell.
The song finally finished and she kissed me on the head as she was putting her too-snug outfit back on.
By this point, Jess had found the only two other girls working that night and was sitting on a couch with them talking about how generous I must be to give that woman money.
These two weren't bad, so I sat down with them.
Since we were the only people there... again (don't go to Vegas on a Wednesday)... they had no reason to leave, so they just sat with us and chatted for a long time.
The one next to me slowly made her way onto my lap and started making out with me. She told me she wanted to give me a free dance.
I accepted.
She started taking her clothes off, and I noticed for the first time how incredible her body was.
Technically, you're not allowed to touch the strippers in Vegas. I knew that, but I wanted to see how far I could push the rules. So as she was rubbing her tits over my mouth, I started licking and biting her nipples. She didn't tell me to stop. She put her hand on the back of my head and encouraged me to continue.
I let my hands wander over her and found her thong. I started playing with her through the panties, and she started grinding my hand. So I pulled them aside and started fingering her.
Right there on the couch.
In the middle of the strip club.
The song ended, but she didn't stop. We made out for probably another five minutes.
When she started putting her outfit back on, she told me she wanted to give me her number, but wasn't allowed to, and if I pulled out my phone for her, she'd get in trouble. I told her I had a good memory, so she told me her number, and I went to the washroom to punch it in. I sent a quick text to make sure I'd gotten it right, and waited a couple minutes before returning.
As I was walking back, she gave me a subtle thumbs up to let me know she'd gotten the text.
By the time we left there, it was around 6:00 am.
As soon as we walked out the door, I called Cousin and told her what happened. Her very first question was, "Did you wash your hands? I mean, that's pretty awesome, but you don't know where that vagina has been."
Jess and I talked to the bouncer and he called a cab for us. As we were waiting, the stripper I'd fingered came out of the side door clearly pissed about something. The bouncer asked her what was wrong and she threw her hands up in the air, "I just got fired! Those assholes just fired me!"
She got into her car, drove up to us and rolled down her window. I was expecting her to scream at me for breaking the rules.
Instead she said, "Call me. You're fun. I want to see you again before you leave town."
Fuck. Yah.
She texted me later and told me the whole story. The manager was pissed not only because she had broken the no touching rule, but also because the house is supposed to get a cut of whatever she makes. Since she hadn't charged me anything for the lap dances, they didn't make anything either. Their portion would have been like four bucks.
But, the next night we went to Spearmint Rhino, and I hadn't been black-balled, so I guess they were only mad at her. Which I was kind of relieved to discover.
You don't really want club owners mad at you in Vegas.
By the end of the trip, I was pretty good at turning down lap dances I didn't want. And getting strippers to come sit with me and make out with me without spending any money on them. I got one more stripper's number (she also had to sneak it to me), and had one introduce me to the bouncers as, "This guy is really cool, you guys make sure he gets home okay." Which turned out to be a free limo ride back to the hotel.
Spearmint and Sapphire were definitely awesome. My disappointment completely evaporated as soon as I walked into Spearmint. And Sapphire was even better.
Every time I go to Vegas now, I have to try to top the last time. So far, each time has been better. No more fired strippers, though.
But Vegas and me? We get along just fine.
I really had no idea what to expect.
My buddy Jess and I made an itinerary to make sure we hit all the night clubs and strip clubs we could in our short stay.
We didn't really care about gambling, we came to Vegas to see some nipples.
Originally, we had planned on walking or taking the monorail to get places on the strip. But, since we were retarded and planned our trip at the end of August, we ended up taking cabs.
Walking during a summer month in Vegas was out of the question. At one point early on, we decided to walk from Belagio to Treasure Island. We got about 400 yards before my ball sweat was dripping down my legs. I could feel my ass cheeks gliding across each other every time I took another step. I had a small river-o'-sweat emerging at my neck which flowed all the way down my spine.
The monorail sounds great, and looks like it's close to the strip on a map.
Incorrect.
Every block on the strip is huge. Walking from the monorail station to Las Vegas Blvd once again induced dripping ball sack.
We arrived close to midnight the first night, and decided not to waste the night and headed to a fully nude strip club. It was an adult store with dildos and DVDs with a small curtain that lead to the back room. The bouncers looked like something out of a 80s porno. Slicked back hair, thick gold sunglasses, and gold chains with thick chest hair coming out of floral patterned shirts.
They let us through to the back room. After a narrow hallway with two small private rooms, it opened up again and had an area with a stage and some space with a bunch of seating.
I asked for a beer, and the girl behind the counter snarled at me.
"We're a fully nude club. No alcohol."
It took a second to register. I was unaware of this rule. Legal drinking age in Nevada is 21, legal stripping age is 18. So all the 18-20 year olds were stripping at the fully nude clubs, but no alcohol was allowed.
'Merica, right?
I ordered a cola and went and sat on sniffer's row with Jess. We were the only customers.
We put our stack of ones down beside us, and mostly chatted with each other, because the stage show wasn't great. One of the girls slid down the pole too quickly and landed on her tailbone. She was overweight and performed like it was her first time out of the house.
Jess and I looked at each other with disbelief, just as she swiped all of Jess's stack and plopped the bills on the stage.
She looked at me and gestured towards the bouncers. "Taking money off the stage will get you kicked out."
What. The. Flying. Fuck.
I moved my stack farther away from her and Jess went to the 'bar' to grab more bills.
"Well, you're not getting any of mine. You might as well just get off the stage."
She called me an asshole and grabbed her stuff.
The next girl was much cuter, but was still clearly an amateur. We convinced her to give us a free private show and took pictures of her getting naked and making out with me.
All in all we'd spent about $25. I guess you get what you pay for, I was pretty disappointed. I'd heard so much about the Vegas strip clubs, and this first one was just not good.
The second night we went to Badda Bing. I made a call to get the free limo service to the club.
Lap dances here were $10. I nearly shit myself. I thought I was in heaven.
Until I had a stage five clinger offering me a dance.
She was probably in her forties, wearing a sheer black outfit that showed off her baby belly and c-section scar. Bottle blonde hair with inch long roots showing, and floppy arm and leg skin like she had recently lost significant weight.
She sat on my lap and whispered in my ear. I tried to ignore her, but it just encouraged her to try harder.
I nearly offered her $10 just to leave me alone, but figured I'd get the lap dance out of it, anyway. So I caved.
I nearly fell asleep. She was boring as hell.
The song finally finished and she kissed me on the head as she was putting her too-snug outfit back on.
By this point, Jess had found the only two other girls working that night and was sitting on a couch with them talking about how generous I must be to give that woman money.
These two weren't bad, so I sat down with them.
Since we were the only people there... again (don't go to Vegas on a Wednesday)... they had no reason to leave, so they just sat with us and chatted for a long time.
The one next to me slowly made her way onto my lap and started making out with me. She told me she wanted to give me a free dance.
I accepted.
She started taking her clothes off, and I noticed for the first time how incredible her body was.
Technically, you're not allowed to touch the strippers in Vegas. I knew that, but I wanted to see how far I could push the rules. So as she was rubbing her tits over my mouth, I started licking and biting her nipples. She didn't tell me to stop. She put her hand on the back of my head and encouraged me to continue.
I let my hands wander over her and found her thong. I started playing with her through the panties, and she started grinding my hand. So I pulled them aside and started fingering her.
Right there on the couch.
In the middle of the strip club.
The song ended, but she didn't stop. We made out for probably another five minutes.
When she started putting her outfit back on, she told me she wanted to give me her number, but wasn't allowed to, and if I pulled out my phone for her, she'd get in trouble. I told her I had a good memory, so she told me her number, and I went to the washroom to punch it in. I sent a quick text to make sure I'd gotten it right, and waited a couple minutes before returning.
As I was walking back, she gave me a subtle thumbs up to let me know she'd gotten the text.
By the time we left there, it was around 6:00 am.
As soon as we walked out the door, I called Cousin and told her what happened. Her very first question was, "Did you wash your hands? I mean, that's pretty awesome, but you don't know where that vagina has been."
Jess and I talked to the bouncer and he called a cab for us. As we were waiting, the stripper I'd fingered came out of the side door clearly pissed about something. The bouncer asked her what was wrong and she threw her hands up in the air, "I just got fired! Those assholes just fired me!"
She got into her car, drove up to us and rolled down her window. I was expecting her to scream at me for breaking the rules.
Instead she said, "Call me. You're fun. I want to see you again before you leave town."
Fuck. Yah.
She texted me later and told me the whole story. The manager was pissed not only because she had broken the no touching rule, but also because the house is supposed to get a cut of whatever she makes. Since she hadn't charged me anything for the lap dances, they didn't make anything either. Their portion would have been like four bucks.
But, the next night we went to Spearmint Rhino, and I hadn't been black-balled, so I guess they were only mad at her. Which I was kind of relieved to discover.
You don't really want club owners mad at you in Vegas.
By the end of the trip, I was pretty good at turning down lap dances I didn't want. And getting strippers to come sit with me and make out with me without spending any money on them. I got one more stripper's number (she also had to sneak it to me), and had one introduce me to the bouncers as, "This guy is really cool, you guys make sure he gets home okay." Which turned out to be a free limo ride back to the hotel.
Spearmint and Sapphire were definitely awesome. My disappointment completely evaporated as soon as I walked into Spearmint. And Sapphire was even better.
Every time I go to Vegas now, I have to try to top the last time. So far, each time has been better. No more fired strippers, though.
But Vegas and me? We get along just fine.
Thursday, 5 July 2012
Music festival
There was a wicked lineup this year.
I swear the thing gets better every time.
Here's a small selection of my text messages from the weekend:
Me: I'm at BOOOOOOOONSTOOOOOOOCK!!!!!!!
Cousin: :D how much beer?
I bought 2 26s of rum
Hahahahaah oh yeah
Yah buddy
I'm having sex tonight
:) I will probably not be. Considering the amount of rum I'll be consuming
Hahahaha, who'd Ruben bring?
His brother.
My shirts dirty.
I might have to share my tent with Ruben's brother
Not looking forward to that.
What??? Why?
He doesn't have his own tent. Fucker.
BYOTP
Bring your own toilet paper
Lol did you?
No. But Ruben's bro is bringing some
Lol
Been feeling it for about an hour. 'hey, did you know if you can't feel your nose, you're drunk?'
We has smokies. I had two
Ruben's brother is trying to get punched and Ruben already called it a night.
Sleep time
Ruben's brother slept in his car with the door open for most of the night. Puked in our campsite. Fucker.
Are you having a good time?
Yah, just have to get used to how fast Ruben's bro gets tanked.
Lol. Is he a cheap drunk?
No, just chugs vodka. I don't think he's a cheap drunk, he just doesn't pace himself.
Lol!! Omg hahahahaha
I wish your phone wasn't broken lol
I know. Pics would be sweet.
I took a pic with Ruben's phone last night. Of him next to a chic I got to flash for the photo
Flash? Lol you showed your weiner?
She flashed her boobies
Hahahahahaha!!!! Really!!!!
Omg I love you
I am pretty awesome
Nothing to do. Started drinking 30 minutes ago (10:00 am)
Omg lol
At least my shakes are gone now
Ew lol
Glad we have TP. Could have been an interesting morning.
Oh god lol
It's noon. Does that mean I can start drinking for realz, instead of this one drink per half hour bullshit??
There are at least 3 socks in this toilet that I'm currently peeing in/on
Eew lol they didn't have TP
If you sat on this toilet, your cooch would touch TP
And socks
I JUST GAGGED
That's gross
There's dirt in the bottom of my cup. I'm surprisingly okay with it.
I just passed out in my car for like 40 min. I'm going to piss and do it again (so tired)
Ooooh, boo.
I stole SPF 100 from the neighbors
It's 4:30, bitch. Time for this guy to get drunk
No more 'too sober for this shit' nights for me
Hahahahaha
I've been drinking for 7 hours (5:00 pm)
I just got a hand job from three girls at the same time.
Crazy works for me
Wish I could send you a pic. Ruben and his bro are passed out on lawn chairs.
Hahahahahah!!! Me too
Did I ever tell you?
What?
How awesome I am?
Ruben and I are bringing ppl back to our campsite
You should have brough beersbee
Ruben's out of control
I smell weed
No one will go to the party tent with me. They all want to wait for Ruben. Stupid fucks
I'm standing here telling them he's not coming back. Because I know him
It's not sinking in. Even with his brother
I want to get knifey
All I know is that Ruben is out there somewhere (or more likely in his bed) and I've fingered vagina
Shaved vagina. Vagina I intend to puns to shut
Fuckin ADD
Smoked a bong, fingered a chic
Got a BJ behind pizza 73
Sleep time
Lol!!!!! Gooooood morning hahahaha
I have a bruise on my left leg the size of a plate
Wtf why?
No idea
Everything is dirty. I would not be surprised if that chic gets a UTI
Oh god lol
Ruben woke up under someone's truck last night. And he'd pissed himself
He was so out of control last night
So how's pissy pants?
He apparently wiped himself down before crawling into his tent. So he was probably naked in our camp site at 4 am. Whatever.
Are you drunk?
Right now? I started drinking 45 minutes ago (1:45 pm)
How's your shits?
Fine. Surprisingly
I've been avoiding food
Kind of in general
Why?
Because I don't want to have to shit in the middle of the night
It sucks enough during the day
Still raining. I want to be finished my second 26 by 9:00. I have about 2/3 left.
Omg lol!
Scratch that. Half left.
I've gone through 6 litres of diet coke.
How much do you have left?
No diet coke met. In dreaming cri. The neighbors. Ke
What?
...
No diet coke left
I'm stealing from the neighbors
Oh lol
Yah buddy
Buck cherry is terrible live. I don't think they hit a single note
Finished your booze?
Not yet. I got another 2 oz
I just passed out for two hours
Oh god lol
So I'm right on track
In case you were wondering
I'm very drunk
I still have $ in my pocket. So I'm switching to beer
After 9:00. Mission accomplished.
I'm drunk I keep vomit burping
Not vomiting. But my burps taste like it
Eww
Birthday girl just showed me her tits
:)
And I told her to come hither and she did
Twas awesome
Just threw up in my mouth. That was fun
Try not to throw up on a girl...
It's still light out. We had fireworks. They were awesome
Hammered
Smoked laced cigarette. In a good mood
Still close to vomiting.
Last show of the weekend
:)
I was high ax a kite earlier. Watched the lights for like 20 min.
'call it whatchya wanna call it, I'm a fuckin alcoholic' - avicii
The ground is wet with puke and spilled beer. It's hard to walk around without slipping
Fuck. I have to shit
I saw a guy with bare feet. I'm glad I didn't wear my sandals
The avicii show is so ridiculously good. And I'm not even high anymore
I still need to shit
Guy who served me taco in a bag was Willie Nelson. Swear to god
I swear the thing gets better every time.
Here's a small selection of my text messages from the weekend:
Me: I'm at BOOOOOOOONSTOOOOOOOCK!!!!!!!
Cousin: :D how much beer?
I bought 2 26s of rum
Hahahahaah oh yeah
Yah buddy
I'm having sex tonight
:) I will probably not be. Considering the amount of rum I'll be consuming
Hahahaha, who'd Ruben bring?
His brother.
My shirts dirty.
I might have to share my tent with Ruben's brother
Not looking forward to that.
What??? Why?
He doesn't have his own tent. Fucker.
BYOTP
Bring your own toilet paper
Lol did you?
No. But Ruben's bro is bringing some
Lol
Been feeling it for about an hour. 'hey, did you know if you can't feel your nose, you're drunk?'
We has smokies. I had two
Ruben's brother is trying to get punched and Ruben already called it a night.
Sleep time
Ruben's brother slept in his car with the door open for most of the night. Puked in our campsite. Fucker.
Are you having a good time?
Yah, just have to get used to how fast Ruben's bro gets tanked.
Lol. Is he a cheap drunk?
No, just chugs vodka. I don't think he's a cheap drunk, he just doesn't pace himself.
Lol!! Omg hahahahaha
I wish your phone wasn't broken lol
I know. Pics would be sweet.
I took a pic with Ruben's phone last night. Of him next to a chic I got to flash for the photo
Flash? Lol you showed your weiner?
She flashed her boobies
Hahahahahaha!!!! Really!!!!
Omg I love you
I am pretty awesome
Nothing to do. Started drinking 30 minutes ago (10:00 am)
Omg lol
At least my shakes are gone now
Ew lol
Glad we have TP. Could have been an interesting morning.
Oh god lol
It's noon. Does that mean I can start drinking for realz, instead of this one drink per half hour bullshit??
There are at least 3 socks in this toilet that I'm currently peeing in/on
Eew lol they didn't have TP
If you sat on this toilet, your cooch would touch TP
And socks
I JUST GAGGED
That's gross
There's dirt in the bottom of my cup. I'm surprisingly okay with it.
I just passed out in my car for like 40 min. I'm going to piss and do it again (so tired)
Ooooh, boo.
I stole SPF 100 from the neighbors
It's 4:30, bitch. Time for this guy to get drunk
No more 'too sober for this shit' nights for me
Hahahahaha
I've been drinking for 7 hours (5:00 pm)
I just got a hand job from three girls at the same time.
Crazy works for me
Wish I could send you a pic. Ruben and his bro are passed out on lawn chairs.
Hahahahahah!!! Me too
Did I ever tell you?
What?
How awesome I am?
Ruben and I are bringing ppl back to our campsite
You should have brough beersbee
Ruben's out of control
I smell weed
No one will go to the party tent with me. They all want to wait for Ruben. Stupid fucks
I'm standing here telling them he's not coming back. Because I know him
It's not sinking in. Even with his brother
I want to get knifey
All I know is that Ruben is out there somewhere (or more likely in his bed) and I've fingered vagina
Shaved vagina. Vagina I intend to puns to shut
Fuckin ADD
Smoked a bong, fingered a chic
Got a BJ behind pizza 73
Sleep time
Lol!!!!! Gooooood morning hahahaha
I have a bruise on my left leg the size of a plate
Wtf why?
No idea
Everything is dirty. I would not be surprised if that chic gets a UTI
Oh god lol
Ruben woke up under someone's truck last night. And he'd pissed himself
He was so out of control last night
So how's pissy pants?
He apparently wiped himself down before crawling into his tent. So he was probably naked in our camp site at 4 am. Whatever.
Are you drunk?
Right now? I started drinking 45 minutes ago (1:45 pm)
How's your shits?
Fine. Surprisingly
I've been avoiding food
Kind of in general
Why?
Because I don't want to have to shit in the middle of the night
It sucks enough during the day
Still raining. I want to be finished my second 26 by 9:00. I have about 2/3 left.
Omg lol!
Scratch that. Half left.
I've gone through 6 litres of diet coke.
How much do you have left?
No diet coke met. In dreaming cri. The neighbors. Ke
What?
...
No diet coke left
I'm stealing from the neighbors
Oh lol
Yah buddy
Buck cherry is terrible live. I don't think they hit a single note
Finished your booze?
Not yet. I got another 2 oz
I just passed out for two hours
Oh god lol
So I'm right on track
In case you were wondering
I'm very drunk
I still have $ in my pocket. So I'm switching to beer
After 9:00. Mission accomplished.
I'm drunk I keep vomit burping
Not vomiting. But my burps taste like it
Eww
Birthday girl just showed me her tits
:)
And I told her to come hither and she did
Twas awesome
Just threw up in my mouth. That was fun
Try not to throw up on a girl...
It's still light out. We had fireworks. They were awesome
Hammered
Smoked laced cigarette. In a good mood
Still close to vomiting.
Last show of the weekend
:)
I was high ax a kite earlier. Watched the lights for like 20 min.
'call it whatchya wanna call it, I'm a fuckin alcoholic' - avicii
The ground is wet with puke and spilled beer. It's hard to walk around without slipping
Fuck. I have to shit
I saw a guy with bare feet. I'm glad I didn't wear my sandals
The avicii show is so ridiculously good. And I'm not even high anymore
I still need to shit
Guy who served me taco in a bag was Willie Nelson. Swear to god
Thursday, 28 June 2012
Guinea pig
I'm a good friend.
When Cousin was going through esthetician school, she needed a model for one of her practical exams. She asked around, but because it was on a Friday afternoon, everyone else was in school or work.
I volunteered. You know, because I'm a good friend.
I should probably have asked what the practical exam was first.
But I didn't.
So I got my legs waxed. And my bikini line.
As in: left tuck, right tuck, and straight across the top.
The sides weren't so bad, but when she did the strip across the top I nearly punched a hole in the wall, and held back a high pitched scream.
My pores started bleeding.
But, a tiny piece of wax was stubborn, and decided to stay. Which was apparently unacceptable, so the strip got stuck on and pulled off again.
And again.
My survival instincts finally kicked in and my hands shot towards my boutique of leathers in a protective fashion.
My fingers did a miniature version of the macarena in an attempt to ward off the next attack from the wax strip, and I let out a whimper.
At this point, Cousin was laughing so hard she was unable to continue anyway.
She got 98% on the exam. 2% reduction for 'unprofessionalism' because she was laughing at me. To which she said, and I quote: "TOTALLY worth it!"
I was in a lot of pain, so I decided to grab a drink that night.
My jeans felt weird against my completely smooth legs, and I found out later that comfortable bed sheets are transformed into heavenly satin when you're smooth as a baby's ass. The boxer elastic rubbing against my freshly raw pubic skin felt like the worst case of crabs I ever imagined having. Every time I used the urinal, I had to pry the elastic off, which re-opened the bleeding follicles. It took about three hours of drinking before they had healed over.
So, there I was squirming on my bar stool trying to drink enough rum and coke to make it all go away, when a girl tapped me on the shoulder and asked if her and her friends could use the seats next to me.
Only one thought went through my head, "This cutie is in trouble tonight."
I noticed the ring on her hand and didn't give a shit.
I was already drunk. But not to the point I was out of it. Not 'shit-show' drunk. And now that she was here, I intended to keep it that way.
After hooking up in a cab and getting to her friend's place, as I was taking off my pants, I remembered that my legs had just been waxed.
I decided not to say anything, and just kept the momentum going.
It wasn't until we were done a couple rounds and taking a quick break before she said anything about it. I told her the whole story. And how I was such a good friend.
She told me she was bisexual, and found it sexy. Then she said, "I kind of hate body hair. You may have noticed."
I had.
She asked for my number. And told me she wanted to introduce me to her girlfriend.
Bisexuals are better in bed. I've decided.
When Cousin was going through esthetician school, she needed a model for one of her practical exams. She asked around, but because it was on a Friday afternoon, everyone else was in school or work.
I volunteered. You know, because I'm a good friend.
I should probably have asked what the practical exam was first.
But I didn't.
So I got my legs waxed. And my bikini line.
As in: left tuck, right tuck, and straight across the top.
The sides weren't so bad, but when she did the strip across the top I nearly punched a hole in the wall, and held back a high pitched scream.
My pores started bleeding.
But, a tiny piece of wax was stubborn, and decided to stay. Which was apparently unacceptable, so the strip got stuck on and pulled off again.
And again.
My survival instincts finally kicked in and my hands shot towards my boutique of leathers in a protective fashion.
My fingers did a miniature version of the macarena in an attempt to ward off the next attack from the wax strip, and I let out a whimper.
At this point, Cousin was laughing so hard she was unable to continue anyway.
She got 98% on the exam. 2% reduction for 'unprofessionalism' because she was laughing at me. To which she said, and I quote: "TOTALLY worth it!"
I was in a lot of pain, so I decided to grab a drink that night.
My jeans felt weird against my completely smooth legs, and I found out later that comfortable bed sheets are transformed into heavenly satin when you're smooth as a baby's ass. The boxer elastic rubbing against my freshly raw pubic skin felt like the worst case of crabs I ever imagined having. Every time I used the urinal, I had to pry the elastic off, which re-opened the bleeding follicles. It took about three hours of drinking before they had healed over.
So, there I was squirming on my bar stool trying to drink enough rum and coke to make it all go away, when a girl tapped me on the shoulder and asked if her and her friends could use the seats next to me.
Only one thought went through my head, "This cutie is in trouble tonight."
I noticed the ring on her hand and didn't give a shit.
I was already drunk. But not to the point I was out of it. Not 'shit-show' drunk. And now that she was here, I intended to keep it that way.
After hooking up in a cab and getting to her friend's place, as I was taking off my pants, I remembered that my legs had just been waxed.
I decided not to say anything, and just kept the momentum going.
It wasn't until we were done a couple rounds and taking a quick break before she said anything about it. I told her the whole story. And how I was such a good friend.
She told me she was bisexual, and found it sexy. Then she said, "I kind of hate body hair. You may have noticed."
I had.
She asked for my number. And told me she wanted to introduce me to her girlfriend.
Bisexuals are better in bed. I've decided.
Monday, 25 June 2012
Wednesday, 20 June 2012
Good news
I was reading through my previous posts, and realized that even though that shit's funny, almost all the stories don't have very happy endings.
Especially beer fest.
Not all my nights end in horror. The stories of the shit storm that is me ends with a smile more times than not.
So fuck the horror stories for a few days. You get to hear about my happy endings until reading this doesn't make me so depressed.
Deal with it.
Especially beer fest.
Not all my nights end in horror. The stories of the shit storm that is me ends with a smile more times than not.
So fuck the horror stories for a few days. You get to hear about my happy endings until reading this doesn't make me so depressed.
Deal with it.
Tuesday, 19 June 2012
Beer fest
Ruben tends to keep his ear to the ground in the world of getting drunk.
He heard that there was a beer fest coming to town, and he asked me to go with him.
I think between the two of us, we bought close to two hundred drink tickets. Each one gave us half a plastic cup of beer of our choosing. Essentially enough to buy us fifty cans of beer each. There were some weird ones, but after tasting ALL of them, I found a couple that I liked, and a couple with girls behind the counter that I liked.
It's important to have that balance in your life... between alcohol and women. Especially for me, since if I have too much of one, I don't get enough of the other. Actually, it's kind of a one-way scale, but I have priorities.
I'm not sure if it was the beer goggles, but I remember there being a lot of girls there that raised my eyebrows. Ruben and I ripped the place up like two tornadoes of destruction. I remember pretty clearly making out with a blonde girl, and ended up getting a picture in the local newspaper of me chugging a full bottle with a hot brunette that had tattoos like Bif Naked.
I used all of my tickets. All of them. Fifty cans of beer consumed in about four hours. That's a whole can every five minutes.
It was one of the first times Ruben and I drank together. I think I had grossly underestimated the level of alcohol consumption he could influence me to drink.
By the end of the night, I was a mess, and it ended up being the second time I'd ever gotten sick.
When I got home, I got naked and got in the shower. Kind of my way of sobering up. It helps, sometimes.
Not this time.
I regained consciousness from a blackout covered in carrots and potatoes. I'd had stew for supper. I didn't remember actually puking, but most of it had already been washed off by the running water. I thanked the shower out loud for being a comfortable place to sit, and passed out again.
I woke up in my bed, fully naked and still drunk.
The shower still had vomit in it.
A lot of vomit in it.
With large chunks of food.
I made a mental note to chew my food better and started cleaning it up. I had to pick it up in handfulls. It was too big to wash down the drain. Every handful would soak through the paper towel and leak, so it was all over my hands and dripping down my arms.
Still drunk, my coordination wasn't great, and at one point I lost my balance. I put my hand down to catch myself and slipped in it. My hand splashed chunks into my face and I landed on my elbow. It was foul and slimy. It still kind of tasted like stew, but was mostly just essence if bial.
Yes. It went in my mouth. Mmmmm, six hour old vomit. Delicious.
When I was done cleaning up, I called Ruben and we went and got hangover food... and a few pints of beer. Nothing like more alcohol to cure a hangover.
And, to get another night started, of course.
He heard that there was a beer fest coming to town, and he asked me to go with him.
I think between the two of us, we bought close to two hundred drink tickets. Each one gave us half a plastic cup of beer of our choosing. Essentially enough to buy us fifty cans of beer each. There were some weird ones, but after tasting ALL of them, I found a couple that I liked, and a couple with girls behind the counter that I liked.
It's important to have that balance in your life... between alcohol and women. Especially for me, since if I have too much of one, I don't get enough of the other. Actually, it's kind of a one-way scale, but I have priorities.
I'm not sure if it was the beer goggles, but I remember there being a lot of girls there that raised my eyebrows. Ruben and I ripped the place up like two tornadoes of destruction. I remember pretty clearly making out with a blonde girl, and ended up getting a picture in the local newspaper of me chugging a full bottle with a hot brunette that had tattoos like Bif Naked.
I used all of my tickets. All of them. Fifty cans of beer consumed in about four hours. That's a whole can every five minutes.
It was one of the first times Ruben and I drank together. I think I had grossly underestimated the level of alcohol consumption he could influence me to drink.
By the end of the night, I was a mess, and it ended up being the second time I'd ever gotten sick.
When I got home, I got naked and got in the shower. Kind of my way of sobering up. It helps, sometimes.
Not this time.
I regained consciousness from a blackout covered in carrots and potatoes. I'd had stew for supper. I didn't remember actually puking, but most of it had already been washed off by the running water. I thanked the shower out loud for being a comfortable place to sit, and passed out again.
I woke up in my bed, fully naked and still drunk.
The shower still had vomit in it.
A lot of vomit in it.
With large chunks of food.
I made a mental note to chew my food better and started cleaning it up. I had to pick it up in handfulls. It was too big to wash down the drain. Every handful would soak through the paper towel and leak, so it was all over my hands and dripping down my arms.
Still drunk, my coordination wasn't great, and at one point I lost my balance. I put my hand down to catch myself and slipped in it. My hand splashed chunks into my face and I landed on my elbow. It was foul and slimy. It still kind of tasted like stew, but was mostly just essence if bial.
Yes. It went in my mouth. Mmmmm, six hour old vomit. Delicious.
When I was done cleaning up, I called Ruben and we went and got hangover food... and a few pints of beer. Nothing like more alcohol to cure a hangover.
And, to get another night started, of course.
Saturday, 16 June 2012
Blind date
I've moved around a lot.
Building a new social circle over and over is a tiresome task, but I've gotten pretty good at it.
Back in the day, I relied on some unconventional methods. Like ICQ and MSN's random chat feature. You could ask it to find you someone in your city to chat with. More often miss than hit, but it was a good way back then to meet new people in your area.
Freshly moved into another new city, I had met a few people that way, and had actually gotten into a relationship. But, I was still looking to expand my social circle, so I continued to chat with random people.
There was one random girl I met online that seemed to be pretty cool. We made plans to meet up with each other at a bar with a few of our friends. A few of my college basketball buddies said they were down for a night out, and she said that a few of her girlfriends would meet us out. Sounds like a good way to do some networking, right?
Well, if it went down like that, it would have been.
And, before I get any further, I want to point out that she knew that I had a girlfriend. I told her that several times.
She manipulated the situation so that she could be alone with me. She told me that we would meet her friends out, but that they didn't have room for her in their car.
I drove up her block and saw a large pink fuzzy growth on the lawn of one of the houses. As I got closer I realized that it was, in fact, a person.
This must be 'playboybunny22'. It crossed my mind that she was likely unable to wear anything that could be purchased from the playboy store. Probably since the age of nine.
She looked like one of those women you see at Walmart shopping for jujubes in bulk.
Her body didn't have a defined shape. It was just lumpy. Folds and rolls everywhere. She had a solid black eyebrow. From one side of her head to the other, without a break. A unibrow like no other I'd ever seen. She had one of those backs that kind of just turns into legs. No indication of where her back ended and her ass began. And that thing where her neck was the same thickness as her head, so it looked like her face entered her chest and her cheeks ran all the way down to her shoulders. Her skin had deep holes in it from what must have been an epic battle with acne.
She was wearing large hoop earrings, and one of those pink fluffy sweaters that leaves little pieces everywhere.
I saw her approaching the car. She was waddling. She flashed a snaggle toothed grin at me.
I was in so much shock, I froze.
She got into my car.
I felt violated.
She told me that none of her friends were able to make it anymore. So it was just her and me.
I immediately changed plans. Instead of meeting up with the guys, I decided it would be better if we did something that involved her not being introduced to anyone I knew. Like chess club, or driving to the coast and throwing her off a cliff.
We went to a pool hall on the other end of town.
One of my buddies texted me. "What's the plan, dude?" I told him that I needed to be rescued, and he told me that he would be there as soon as he could.
It can be hard to find friends like that.
When he arrived, he saw playboybunny22 and froze. His eyes got wide and he looked at me. I saw fear.
I didn't want to spend another minute with her. As she took her turn at the pool table, my buddy and I discussed the plan. He was going to leave, saying that he wasn't feeling that well - which at this point was probably true, I think I heard him gag two or three times. Then, a few minutes after he was gone, he would call me pretending to be my brother and make up some kind of emergency.
He called and said that he had a flat tire and needed me to come help him fix it.
I tried to make the conversation sound genuine. I feigned disappointment, and said I was out. I even asked if he had already called anyone else. My buddy told me to stop being a shit head, "Keep it simple, idiot. If she figures it out, no one will ever find your body."
So, I told her that I had to drop her off so I could help my brother out.
She bought it.
The whole drive back I couldn't talk or make eye contact with her. I was scared she'd smell my fear and attack. My ears were ringing. My cheeks were burning.
We got to her place and I mumbled some sort of good bye. Before I knew what hit me, she was across the car, with her lips on my face.
I panicked. What was happening? I could feel her moustache on my skin, and there was a moment where I swear she tried to push her tongue into my very tightly closed mouth. I clearly remember not being able to breathe. It was like her face had wrapped itself around mine and entered my nostrils and mouth. Like something out of a horror movie, her face was trying to eat me.
I found the strength to push her off me, and told her to get out of the car.
It maybe lasted 2 seconds. Just long enough to know what the fuck was going on, and react.
She got out of my car.
I felt horrible, and disgusted. I had to tell my girlfriend about this. This was not okay. I tried to imagine a positive response to the news some lagoon creature had taken advantage of my face. Maybe she wouldn't be mad. Maybe she'd see it wasn't my fault. Somehow.
The next day, I told her the whole story. There was disbelief in her eyes. And I could see her holding back unkind words.
But, she said she believed me, and that it was okay. I could tell she was still upset about it, but she was mature enough to recognize that a story about being mouth raped was probably too crazy to be made up.
A couple months later, we were at the local pool together.
I saw playboybunny22, and slid down into the water all the way to my eyes, so only the top of my head was visible. My girlfriend looked at me like I was retarded and said, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
I pointed.
She looked over and said, "Oh my god, is that her?"
I nodded my head slightly.
I thought the monster had looked bad fully clothed. She was at a pool now, wearing a bathing suit. The lumps and folds were hanging out. Not concealed. Just out there for everyone to see. The crease through her crotch completely hid her bathing suit. The fat completely swallowed the fabric and looked like a giant vagina.
My girlfriend slipped down into the water next to me and looked at me with wide eyes. "Woah."
It was a bonding moment.
Building a new social circle over and over is a tiresome task, but I've gotten pretty good at it.
Back in the day, I relied on some unconventional methods. Like ICQ and MSN's random chat feature. You could ask it to find you someone in your city to chat with. More often miss than hit, but it was a good way back then to meet new people in your area.
Freshly moved into another new city, I had met a few people that way, and had actually gotten into a relationship. But, I was still looking to expand my social circle, so I continued to chat with random people.
There was one random girl I met online that seemed to be pretty cool. We made plans to meet up with each other at a bar with a few of our friends. A few of my college basketball buddies said they were down for a night out, and she said that a few of her girlfriends would meet us out. Sounds like a good way to do some networking, right?
Well, if it went down like that, it would have been.
And, before I get any further, I want to point out that she knew that I had a girlfriend. I told her that several times.
She manipulated the situation so that she could be alone with me. She told me that we would meet her friends out, but that they didn't have room for her in their car.
I drove up her block and saw a large pink fuzzy growth on the lawn of one of the houses. As I got closer I realized that it was, in fact, a person.
This must be 'playboybunny22'. It crossed my mind that she was likely unable to wear anything that could be purchased from the playboy store. Probably since the age of nine.
She looked like one of those women you see at Walmart shopping for jujubes in bulk.
Her body didn't have a defined shape. It was just lumpy. Folds and rolls everywhere. She had a solid black eyebrow. From one side of her head to the other, without a break. A unibrow like no other I'd ever seen. She had one of those backs that kind of just turns into legs. No indication of where her back ended and her ass began. And that thing where her neck was the same thickness as her head, so it looked like her face entered her chest and her cheeks ran all the way down to her shoulders. Her skin had deep holes in it from what must have been an epic battle with acne.
She was wearing large hoop earrings, and one of those pink fluffy sweaters that leaves little pieces everywhere.
I saw her approaching the car. She was waddling. She flashed a snaggle toothed grin at me.
I was in so much shock, I froze.
She got into my car.
I felt violated.
She told me that none of her friends were able to make it anymore. So it was just her and me.
I immediately changed plans. Instead of meeting up with the guys, I decided it would be better if we did something that involved her not being introduced to anyone I knew. Like chess club, or driving to the coast and throwing her off a cliff.
We went to a pool hall on the other end of town.
One of my buddies texted me. "What's the plan, dude?" I told him that I needed to be rescued, and he told me that he would be there as soon as he could.
It can be hard to find friends like that.
When he arrived, he saw playboybunny22 and froze. His eyes got wide and he looked at me. I saw fear.
I didn't want to spend another minute with her. As she took her turn at the pool table, my buddy and I discussed the plan. He was going to leave, saying that he wasn't feeling that well - which at this point was probably true, I think I heard him gag two or three times. Then, a few minutes after he was gone, he would call me pretending to be my brother and make up some kind of emergency.
He called and said that he had a flat tire and needed me to come help him fix it.
I tried to make the conversation sound genuine. I feigned disappointment, and said I was out. I even asked if he had already called anyone else. My buddy told me to stop being a shit head, "Keep it simple, idiot. If she figures it out, no one will ever find your body."
So, I told her that I had to drop her off so I could help my brother out.
She bought it.
The whole drive back I couldn't talk or make eye contact with her. I was scared she'd smell my fear and attack. My ears were ringing. My cheeks were burning.
We got to her place and I mumbled some sort of good bye. Before I knew what hit me, she was across the car, with her lips on my face.
I panicked. What was happening? I could feel her moustache on my skin, and there was a moment where I swear she tried to push her tongue into my very tightly closed mouth. I clearly remember not being able to breathe. It was like her face had wrapped itself around mine and entered my nostrils and mouth. Like something out of a horror movie, her face was trying to eat me.
I found the strength to push her off me, and told her to get out of the car.
It maybe lasted 2 seconds. Just long enough to know what the fuck was going on, and react.
She got out of my car.
I felt horrible, and disgusted. I had to tell my girlfriend about this. This was not okay. I tried to imagine a positive response to the news some lagoon creature had taken advantage of my face. Maybe she wouldn't be mad. Maybe she'd see it wasn't my fault. Somehow.
The next day, I told her the whole story. There was disbelief in her eyes. And I could see her holding back unkind words.
But, she said she believed me, and that it was okay. I could tell she was still upset about it, but she was mature enough to recognize that a story about being mouth raped was probably too crazy to be made up.
A couple months later, we were at the local pool together.
I saw playboybunny22, and slid down into the water all the way to my eyes, so only the top of my head was visible. My girlfriend looked at me like I was retarded and said, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
I pointed.
She looked over and said, "Oh my god, is that her?"
I nodded my head slightly.
I thought the monster had looked bad fully clothed. She was at a pool now, wearing a bathing suit. The lumps and folds were hanging out. Not concealed. Just out there for everyone to see. The crease through her crotch completely hid her bathing suit. The fat completely swallowed the fabric and looked like a giant vagina.
My girlfriend slipped down into the water next to me and looked at me with wide eyes. "Woah."
It was a bonding moment.
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