Saturday, May 26, 2007
After my Mom caught me growing pot in her greenhouse, my father told me it was time for me to move out or join the army. After going from couch to couch for two months, I ended up wearing out my welcome everywhere and took up residence in my Chevy Nova in the parking lot of a church. After a couple days Mr. Carl comes knocking on my window and offers me a place to stay, to help me get back on my feet. Honestly, this is one of the few people I really regret screwing over. This guy just kept forgiving and forgiving. Whether it was me selling half of his LP collection, or inviting my friends over and hotboxing his bathroom, or making tons of prank calls to foreign countries, the man did exactly what Jesus would do. That is until he came home to find my hand in his daughter's trousers. At that point he freaked and chased me around the house with a tire iron smashing three lamps, a statue of the Virgin Mary and putting a couple good sized holes in the wall. As I grabbed for my car keys, he smashed that iron into the back of my hand. I still can't cross any of my fingers due to nerve damage. At first I thought that was pretty fucked up, but now that I think about it, Jesus probably would have done the same.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Logan was such a dirtbag. We lived together in this house his dad was renovating. We were supposed to be helping fix it up in trade for rent, but never did. One night we had a party for Bastille Day and everyone got real tore up. At the end of the night I was walking around with a video camera filming people passed while I did narration. I walked into the living room and saw Logan with his hand inside this passed out girl's shirt. After about two minutes he finally noticed I was there, looked up, and freaked out. While he was begging me to give him the tape, the girl woke up and wanted to know how her shirt and bra got undone. I started to play back the tape and Logan started screaming. He ran out of the room and came back seconds later with a nail gun. Before he could pull the trigger, he got caught up in the pneumatic hose and tripped, breaking his nose on the burl coffee table. The girl was really appreciative until it dawned on her that I just sat there filming the whole thing. She hates me too, but since she took the camera I don't have a picture of her.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
I stole $500 bucks from my grandfather when I was 14. He could never prove it, and I never admitted it, but he knew. This picture was taken at his 70th wedding anniversary. It was about five minutes later when my sister's kid popped a balloon behind him that he pissed himself. I happened to be standing right in front of him when he did and immediately started laughing and screaming that Grandpa Irv wet his pants. He slapped me across the face and told me, "You are for shit! You stole my Liberty Dollars and everyone knows what a shit you are, you shit!" In an attempt to haunt me from beyond the grave, he stipulated in his will that I should inherit his colon. I was actually kind of jazzed about the idea, but apparently there are laws against that kind of thing.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Bastiaan was from the Netherlands. I was trying to be friendly and accommodating and European and whatever, so when he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek I kissed him back. The next thing I know, his tongue is in my mouth and he's got one of his paws on my junk. I punched him in the neck, and his brother accused me of trying to start an international incident. Not to put to fine a point on it, but don't trust the Dutch.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
That's Rudy. He and I were drinking and screwing around at his parents 35th wedding annaversary and I accidentally gave his mom a karate chop in the eye. I was doing that old Furley-Fu bit from Three's Company and I got a little out of control. His dad saw the whole thing and came barreling across the gym to give me a shove, but he plants his feet right where his wife had just spilled her drink and ends up ass-over-tea kettle on the drum riser. Three months later they take me to court trying to blame his mother's newly diagnosed macular pucker on me, but it didn't take. She'd been complaining about her left eye being blurry for years.
PS. the picture next to him is of he and his wife at their wedding. I totally nailed her first. Snap!
Monday, March 12, 2007
Roger wrote this book about colon health. It's full of photos of people's poo, and he made a bunch of money off it. (He once told me that the freaky dude who played the Green Goblin in the first Spiderman wanted to option it for a movie. Whatever.) He took his first big check and had a sauna built in his bathroom. The Christmas after the book came out, he and his wife had a little dinner party where I got hugely drunk. Somebody put on the Cars first album and I was screaming along to "Just What I Needed" when I started to puke. I ran into the bathroom, took a wrong turn, and ended up in the sauna. Fortunately it wasn't on, unfortunately I couldn't hold on any longer and ending up puking all over the walls. I promptly passed out. When I came to and realized what I had done, I tried to clean up the mess with a wadded up handful of toilet paper. This went on for hours as I kept passing out and waking up again. At around four in the morning his wife Judy walks in and sees me and the puke and the toilet paper everywhere and starts kicking me and screaming. The only words I could make out between the shrieks were, "Cedar is an aromatic wood, FUCKING ASSHOLE!" The photo of Roger is one I took four years later. He wouldn't even look me in the eye. Can't you just feel his colon seething?
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
I tried internet dating back when it first started appearing in Penthouse Letters. Almost instantly this girl Annette contacted me. We chatted online for about a week before she told me she was in the mood for a "serious ass punching." I told her we should meet that night and gave her my phone number. She called and asked me to meet her at this coffee shop down the street from my apartment. I got there and didn't see anyone that looked like the picture she sent me, so I figured she must be late. Two seconds after I sat down, this dude sits down across from me and tells me he's Andy. He then tells me about how he's the one I've been talking to on line, and that the photo he sent was of his sister. I asked who I had been talking to on the phone and he said that that was his sister also, but that he had been telling her what to say. I stood up to leave and he started yelling that I shouldn't turn my back on love, and that it was his words I had fallen in love with so our love was still real, and a bunch of other crazy shit. He also told me I was shallow for not wanting to give him a chance. I stood up and walked away. He caught up with me about a half a block later and asked if he could just give me a blow job and told me that he didn't expect me to reciprocate. I'll admit I was tempted, but I figured that was probably a lie too.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
So I met Rebekah at this bar called "Bob and Betty's 160 club." It's dark and kind of country-style, but it has shuffleboard so I can't complain. I used this line on her that had something to do with cooking her breakfast, something too well thought out to actually be witty, but this girl flips for it when I start talking omelettes. Dawn breaks and she starts bugging me about this omelette. I tell her that I can't really cook and that it was just a line. She freaks, throws her clothes on, and then starts throwing books at me. She screams something about how her not having an orgasm is bad enough, but lying about an omelette is totally unacceptable. I have to admit, it kind of turned me on that she was so crazy about breakfast.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Kristin was one of my sister’s friends. She spent the weekend at our house on fourth of July because she didn’t want to go with her family to Lake Tahoe. I made some serious attempts to get with her but she was uninterested. She told me that she just wasn’t into ugly guys. I thought that was a real bitchy thing to say so I told her that she was going to regret it, because I’m hard like that when dealing with girls a couple years younger than me. After she drove away I called the cops and told them that she had tried to sell me dope. They pulled her over before she got home and as luck would have it she had an ounce of pot, several dozen pair of stolen “panties,” and a dead squirrel, in her trunk. Whoops.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Kathy and I dated for a while. Long enough for me to talk her into making some videos. Long enough for my ex-friend Stewart to find them on my computer and upload them to youtube. Long enough for her to find out that over 45,000 people had watched her do those things on video, and that hundreds of them had left comments about her technique, her body, her lisp, even the horribly outdated Stevie Ray Vaughn poster on her wall. Also long enough for me to end up in the emergency room getting sixteen stitches right above my hairline from this tacky blown glass and driftwood lamp that was also seen in the video. I blame myself, that lamp should have clued me into the fact that this girl was the crazy-throwin’-shit-type.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
I have no idea who this woman is, but I have no doubt that she hates me. There was this wedding at this place I worked at called the Finnish Temperance Hall. I was stopping by to pick up my cel phone I had left there the night before. When I walked into the kitchen there were these caterers in the back taking nitrus hits off of these whip cream canisters. After helping empty the cans, I snuck some whiskey from the bar and proceeded to get hammered. I wandered into the hall when this woman was giving an incredibly long toast. For some reason I started yelling "Fake!" at the end of every line she said. I probably got out four or five before my boss recognized it was me. I never did get that phone back.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Connor and I went on this road trip to Tijuana in search of the donkey show. The idea was that we would hitch hike and train hop the whole way there and back so it would sound like some grand experience instead of two buddies just going to see a girl have sex with a donkey. After three days we made it to San Diego and stayed a night with Connor's sister Torey. The next day I made this cardboard hitching sign that said Donkey Show. Connor grabbed my camera to take some photos of me with the sign. When he turned the camera on though, he found the photos I had taken of his sister in the shower the night before. Apparently, that's considered bad form. I'd say it not as bad as breaking a brother's camera. Either way, I didn't get to see a girl have sex with a donkey.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
I had been dating Simone for about three weeks and it was kinda on the down low since she was getting divorced. Then I had sex with Kiki because she was over and it was raining and the power went out. Then, even on days when it wasn't raining we still kept having sex. About a week later Simone and I went to dinner at this place called the Weimar Institute and Kiki was working there as the hostess. It was really awkward as certain things became immediately apparent. I tried to save the day by suggesting we solve the whole mess with a three-way. It took me about two hours to walk home. A while later I heard the two of them started dating. They stole my idea and left me out of it, how lame is that?
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I grew up next to Lena and her husband Palo. When I was in high school me and a friend watched Animal House and thought the part where they light the little bag of dog shit on fire on someone's porch was really funny. We got my brother to shit in a grocery bag and ran that over and lit it on fire. Seconds later, as the flames began to lick the eaves of their house, we realized why they used a sandwich bag in the movie. Lena opened the door and screamed. Palo ran out and grabbed a hose and put it out, but not before it charred a big circle on their porch. Even after I mowed their lawn for an entire year, Lena would spit whenever she saw me and mutter "Vai tomar no teu cu."
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Cassidy and I went to high school together. We never dated, but I totally wanted to. I ran into her years later and attempted to "ignite the flame" by agreeing to watch her house while she went out of town with her boyfriend. My friend Carl came over and we smoked some crack and made a collage out of her panties. They arrived home to find me throwing up in their kitchen sink and Carl drawing hearts on their bathroom wall in his own shit.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Dante and I used to play doubles in a competitive badminton league. We called ourselves the wondertwins and what we lacked in actual skill we made up for in trash talking. We went out drinking after the finals at some really dark and seedy bar to celebrate our ninth place victory. We were in line to play Street Fighter and I see a bunch of ice on the floor where someone had spilled their drink. For a laugh, I picked some up and dropped it down the back of his pants and ran. I turned around to watch him and he was gone. I'm looking all over for him, but he's nowhere. Fifteen minutes later he appears with his hand all bandaged and tells me some motherfucker put some broken glass down the back of his pants which cut up his hand as he was pulling it out, and that he intended to "kill that motherfucker." I laughed uncontrollably and was finally able to spit out that it was me. Punch Punch Punch. "You're dead to me Motherfucker!" End of story.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
I told Theresa that it was totally cool that she had a baby. I even said that I loved kids just because I wanted to get into her pants so bad, I mean check out the back of her neck in this photo, don't you just wanna bite that like a mother cat? Before she threw me out I did learn a very important parenting lesson: it doesn't matter how sound asleep the baby is, or how bad you need to run to the store for cigarettes, you don't leave the baby home alone. In my defense, I was gone for five minutes, maybe ten, and when I got back the baby was still asleep; until she started in with the yelling. Again, check out the neck meat. It tasted just like you'd think it would.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Allegedly, one Friday night I stumbled into Scootch's place, walked into his bedroom where he and his wife were "sleeping together," stood on the end of their bed and pissed all over them. The only thing I remember is waking up the next morning, without pants, with a dried bloody face, on his front lawn. If the story is true then I understand the hate, cause that's pretty fucked up. If he's lying, that's even more fucked up. Either way I lost my only friend who owns a truck, which makes moving stuff very difficult.