Ducati Monster Forum

I'm not afraid of dying. I am however terrified of becoming useless. Occasionally I'll see a very, very old person and just become scared that I will reach that age and be good for absolutely nothing. To combat this I have taken a cue from my heroes growing up: the old drunks at the bars that my father took me to that would tell the most amazing stories. I loved those guys. I figure if nothing else I could end up as one of these friendly and amusing drunks prattling on about the days of yore. So I have made sure to collect some silly stories in my time through egregious acts of irresponsibilty and uncaring. Of course I now realize that these old drunks were lying most of the time ("bullshitters" not "story tellers") but likely there was an element of truth in these Paul Bunyan tales. The tale below needs no embellishment. It is 100% true. And I want to hear YOUR best story too! Without further adieu:

How I Ended up Riding a Flaming Dumpster Down the Street During a Riot

by SacDuc

I was in a fraternity in college. The stereotypes you have about fraternities are all true. Frat boys are generally douche bags. As were we. But we fell into the other stereotype. Our house was the Animal House on campus. We were ugly, poor and horrifically drunk most of the time. It is cliche to tell the "Dude we used to get sooooo wasted in College" stories, but we truly cared more about drinking than anything else. Above going to class, girls, eating, everything. This was in small town WI where the mores surrounding drinking are, lets say, very liberal already. Plus we were sort of professionals at it. We took down some good cash throwing huge keggers nearly every Thursday night.

So the Thursday night of this story was no different. We procured 10 kegs (we knew that we would know if wee needed more before the place stopped selling them at 10pm) cups and various horrible liquors to sell shots of. And the party was like any other. Our bar and basement were pack with underage people getting wasted and trying to get laid. But this night was radically different for me. On a total lark I decided not to drink a drop. I was stone cold sober. I had a 5 page philosophy paper due the next day (the one class I was passing without a problem) and told myself that I would pound it out before I had a drop to drink. My sobriety got me nominated to sell shots in the basement. So there I am, sober, writing about Hume and Kant and selling shots in a fraternity basement. Well selling shots to the guys and giving shots to any girl that would show me her boobs. Sometimes a girl would come up and flash me and I would have to say, "I've already seen your boobs. If you want another free shot get your friend to show me her boobs. Otherwise its a buck" But I digress.

That's when I saw the flashlight. Damn. Busted. Cops everywhere. But hey, even though I'm underage, I haven't been drinking. Yay me! There was a long line to get out of the house. The cops were giving everyone underage (which was basically everyone) a breathalyzer. When I passed mine the cop made me do it over again. He didn't believe me that I was just down stairs writing a paper (I left out the selling shots part). Does that not sound believable? Anyway, he had to let me go. It wasn't until I got outside that I realized the magnitude of what was happening. There were 5 city busses parked on out street and the kids that failed the breathalyzer were being loaded into them. I walked to the small gathering on the neighbors lawn. People were in shock and telling stories like, "I was in the bathroom dude so I just jumped out of the make the beast with two backsing window and hopped the fence." Eventually the gathering on the lawn became fun. We would walk into the house (another frat house) and do shots and come back out and boo the cops visciously whenever they loaded a particularly hot girl on to the bus.

After all of the busses were loaded and the last cop left we didn't know what to do. So we kept drinking. Soon people came back with stories of what happened at the station. I don't think the cops thought their cunning plan all the way through. They took 200 drunk people two miles away to the police station. Wrote them each a ticket and sent them out to walk back to campus. 200 drunk and pissed off people wandering the streets. Not good. the enevitable happened. Someone pulled the fire alarm at the two dorm towers that housed about 6000 students. So now there were 6000 people in the street whose emotions ranged anywhere from incredulous to absolute rage. The chanting started. Things began being thrown. And then the mob started to move.

It marched downtown tipping a couple of cars, smashing a couple of windows, causing about 100k damage total. Not too bad. Most people were just doing what I was doing, walking along in disbelief yet with a certain amount of pride. By the time the mob circled back to campus it had made a "cause" for itself. Something about legislation being considered to lower the drinking age to 19. I didn't really think we were helping that cause. The mob was marching down the main street through campus when the riot cops showed up. They were idiots and there were not enough of them. Half of the group went for the sit-in. Down they went. Bowls were being passed. I went with the break away group that the cops couldn't contain. Some people started lighting various things on fire. One of those things was a dumpster that was rolled out into the middle of the road. So of course I said to the guys I was with, "Give me a push!" as I ran towards the dumpster.


And they did. So there I was riding a flaming dumpster down the street to the great cheers of the crowd. What I noticed from my improved vantage was the second wave of riot cops arriving. I quickly decided that there was nothing left to accomplish this evening. I left. Just walked back to the frat house. From what I heard the rest of crowd dispersed peacefully. The cops only bashed a few people with batons. No shots fired. I don't recall if there was tear gas. I don't think so.

Back at the frat house we took the phone off of the hook. No more reporters tonight. The thing i really learned during this is that media is full of shit. Whenever I saw this reported on the news, be it locally or CNN, they got every single make the beast with two backsing thing wrong. Everything. It was awful. We did not set out to start a riot. We just wanted to throw a party, get drunk and maybe touch a boob.

The next day the fraternity was cited for running an illegal tavern. We were milling about quoting Animal House, "They took the bar! The whole make the beast with two backsing bar!" We were hauled in front of the Dean of the school. Since I was on the Executive Counsel at the time I had to go. It sucked. We got yelled at and threatened a lot. In the end they didn't kick us off of campus. I have no idea why. The national fraternity didn't revoke our charter. I have no idea why. None of us went to jail. I have no idea why.

Prologue:

Two weeks later on a Sunday my friend Tyler and I are hung over as make the beast with two backs, per usual, and having crawled out of bed at noon we decided to head to McDonald's. After procuring Big Macs we headed toward our favorite liquor store on the out skirts of town (that expensive ass place near campus was NOT for the serious drinkers). We were going 50 mph on a two lane road with narrow shoulders when Tyler said, "I'm gonna puke." I chuckled. He said, "Seriously dude, pull over." I replied, "Dude, I can't pull over here. Roll down the window." So he did. And a newly swallowed Big Mac went spewing all over the side of my brother's car.

So I pull into the gas station just before the liquor store. As I'm pulling up to the pump I hit a patch of ice and ever so gently tapped one of the concrete filled steel posts set to protect the pumps. So THAT'S why those are there! Brilliant! Tyler got out and started squeegeeing the puke off of the side of the car. I started filling the tank which, thankfully, was on the driver's side. When I looked up from the nozzle I saw Tyler standing perfectly still with a look of dread on his face. With the most minute motion he beckoned me to look over his shoulder. And there at the other pump was the Dean of the University! HO. LEE. SHIT. He was looking at me like he just caught me raping his cat. What could I do? I waved. I told Tyler to hurry up. Then I sat down next to the car at laughed my make the beast with two backsing ass off. Never daring to look that direction again I finished filling the tank and got the make the beast with two backs out of there. Many high fives were to be had when we returned home with beer. vodka and a another story to tell.


So there it is. Probably the best story I have to tell. Let's hear yours.

[beer]

sac

I have no memory of my best story

there are pictures though

:-\

Quote from: Mother on July 09, 2010, 09:51:57 AM
I have no memory of my best story

there are pictures though

:-\

POST THEM!!!!

:D


sac

UPDATE:

Holy shit! I just googled "Oshkosh riots" for shits and giggles and came up with this:

http://www.advancetitan.com/news/faculty-recall-riots-1.1434204 (http://www.advancetitan.com/news/faculty-recall-riots-1.1434204)

It is about 50% factually inaccurate, but they got the dumpster part right!   [thumbsup]

[laugh]

Awesome.


sac

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 09, 2010, 10:24:10 AM

My buddy and I, piss ass drunk.......look at each other and go "Let's help the Butler Police!"

Awesome piece of poor decision making. I applaud you.   [clap]

sac

Quote from: SacDuc on July 09, 2010, 11:59:15 AM
Awesome piece of poor decision making. I applaud you.   [clap]

sac

Man, at the time it was the greatest decision in the world

then it hit me that I could have been in bed with this hot chick (I did confirm the next day she was in fact attractive) instead of jumping over fences, bushes, and god knows what else my drunk ass did helping that Officer.

I was friends with the LEO and he bought me lunch later that week........but still.


It was a nice display of a very poor thought process and eventual decision.

I blame the alcohol.

Quote from: Mother on July 09, 2010, 09:51:57 AM
I have no memory of my best story

there are pictures though

:-\

ahem....

moandjacobsbigadventure

Good shit.  [thumbsup]

I too was a member of the "instant" friend society.  We were known to most on campus as the restless drunks with an affinity for kidnapping, dope, loose women and trash the yard parties and the most famous of all Toga.  

Well, our pledges had hell to overcome and as usual tons of foolish shit to learn.  We decided it would be fair if they could "kidnap" actives and haul them off to never never land but always with a quarter (no cell phones then) and a six pack of beer.  Of course we the "actives" could do the same and make up the rules as we went along.  Needless to say one of those morons comes to my apartment to get my signature and the moment I opened the door 20 pledges piled on top of me and by default my roommate.  To make matters worse we were dressed in women's clothing and hog-tied in the bed of a pickup.  Off we go but not without torture which included hot sauce and icy hot on the nads.........bastards!  Our trip took us 2 hours away and down a dirt road where no visible lights existed but we did have beer [thumbsup].  Well, we made it out and a collect call was placed, home at last.

So not to be outdone the actives decided it would be a month straight of kidnapping to pay these little bastards back.  I exacted my revenge on the leader of the pack and back to the frat house we go.  Two of the ones I caught were duc taped to the trees in the front yard and we barricaded the house with cars, trucks, washing machines and anything we could find.  A call was placed to the rest of the pledges who were told if you don't rescue these little punks they would be taken away and the whole class of pledges dismissed - mind you that hell week was already over so no way they'd go through that again.  Now the fun started and the placed looked like a 5th world country.  Potato guns, bb guns, flares and lots of other things were used in their failed attempt to rescue their friends.  BUT about an hour into the mayhem we noticed we had more than the 30 or so pledges.  No worries, we have beer and 60 actives.  Some idiot decided to wear his halloween costume to trick us into thinking he was a cop (a friend of one of the pledges).  Of course we were too smart and weren't fooled so after catching him too we duc taped his ass to his friend nose to nose.  The entire time we drank, smoked and partied like the end of the world was near, little did we know how close we really were, and then things grew to a haze.  We soon found ourselves catching real cops (2 to be exact) who received the same treatment.  Somehow I had a moment of clarity but only after the meat wagon showed-up and tear gas was in my throat.  Roughly 5 hours later a sobering thought occurred.....shit we are in the drunk tank!  

We not only got kicked off campus but had our charter revoked but surprisingly no weed was found.  Back then you could be 18 and drink in Louisiana so no ticket for that but the community service we got lasted 5 years.   We simply moved our frat house to the woods and continued our antics thanks to an Alumni who had just the right place for us to party like rockstars.  To this day we don't know who called the cops but I'm betting it was the Sigma Nu chapter behind our house.  They somehow didn't find it funny we painted their side of the fence pink every year the night before rush started.  Oh well.

1.

I used to work at a Wall St firm that had tiny offices for the attorneys with very thin walls.  My neighbor was this semi-fat idiot who had the manners of a feral wildebeast.  Every day after lunch, he would proceed to belch LOUDLY.  You could hear it down the hall.  We kept our doors open because of the airflow and closing it just wasn't an option.

I got fed up.  Like I said, the walls were thin -- they were the "temporary" type that you make cubicles from, but they were full height to the ceiling and attached directly into the floor.  The surface was a panel that popped off.  My desk was attached directly into the wall.

One evening, I took an old set of headphones, cut one speaker + wire off, and ran the plug to my PC on my desk.  Right into the speaker jack.  The headphone, I secreted into the wall.  Which means it was right up against his desk, but hidden inside his wall. 

I searched around on the 'net for a while for hte right sounds...

The next day when he belched loudly, I had a WAV file of pigs oinking that I had on a hotkey.  As soon as I heard it, I could hear "roonk ronkkk WHREEE WHREEE oink.. etc" for about 3 seconds.

TOTAL SILENCE for about a minute and then I hear a quiet "what the make the beast with two backs?"

About 5 minutes later, another belch:  and the pigs replied with a different set of oinks.

another "what the make the beast with two backs??" but louder this time.

I didn't do it again that day.

Next day I was off.

I came back Monday, and started again.  Same dumbass "What the make the beast with two backs?" only louder this time.  He came into my office and asked me if I was "hearing anything weird?"  Of course, I did what I could to be serious, I kept thinking about serious stuff like people being electrocuted just to keep from laughing out loud -- "no, no.  I haven't heard anything, why??"

"nothing..."

basically it went on for about a week and he finally figured out they were replying when he belched.

I ended up moving to another building, but I removed the speaker before moving.

^
god damn, I remember that story when you told it to me years ago. I laughed out loud again til the point where Tiff was like "What the make the beast with two backs are you reading?"

Quote from: Mother on July 09, 2010, 09:51:57 AM
I have no memory of my best story

there are pictures though

:-\

sounds like a good time.

Quote from: muskrat on July 09, 2010, 03:57:02 PM
Good shit.  [thumbsup]

I too was a member of the "instant" friend society.  We were known to most on campus as the restless drunks with an affinity for kidnapping, dope, loose women and trash the yard parties and the most famous of all Toga.  

Well, our pledges had hell to overcome and as usual tons of foolish shit to learn.  We decided it would be fair if they could "kidnap" actives and haul them off to never never land but always with a quarter (no cell phones then) and a six pack of beer.  Of course we the "actives" could do the same and make up the rules as we went along.  Needless to say one of those morons comes to my apartment to get my signature and the moment I opened the door 20 pledges piled on top of me and by default my roommate.  To make matters worse we were dressed in women's clothing and hog-tied in the bed of a pickup.  Off we go but not without torture which included hot sauce and icy hot on the nads.........bastards!  Our trip took us 2 hours away and down a dirt road where no visible lights existed but we did have beer [thumbsup].  Well, we made it out and a collect call was placed, home at last.

So not to be outdone the actives decided it would be a month straight of kidnapping to pay these little bastards back.  I exacted my revenge on the leader of the pack and back to the frat house we go.  Two of the ones I caught were duc taped to the trees in the front yard and we barricaded the house with cars, trucks, washing machines and anything we could find.  A call was placed to the rest of the pledges who were told if you don't rescue these little punks they would be taken away and the whole class of pledges dismissed - mind you that hell week was already over so no way they'd go through that again.  Now the fun started and the placed looked like a 5th world country.  Potato guns, bb guns, flares and lots of other things were used in their failed attempt to rescue their friends.  BUT about an hour into the mayhem we noticed we had more than the 30 or so pledges.  No worries, we have beer and 60 actives.  Some idiot decided to wear his halloween costume to trick us into thinking he was a cop (a friend of one of the pledges).  Of course we were too smart and weren't fooled so after catching him too we duc taped his ass to his friend nose to nose.  The entire time we drank, smoked and partied like the end of the world was near, little did we know how close we really were, and then things grew to a haze.  We soon found ourselves catching real cops (2 to be exact) who received the same treatment.  Somehow I had a moment of clarity but only after the meat wagon showed-up and tear gas was in my throat.  Roughly 5 hours later a sobering thought occurred.....shit we are in the drunk tank!  

We not only got kicked off campus but had our charter revoked but surprisingly no weed was found.  Back then you could be 18 and drink in Louisiana so no ticket for that but the community service we got lasted 5 years.   We simply moved our frat house to the woods and continued our antics thanks to an Alumni who had just the right place for us to party like rockstars.  To this day we don't know who called the cops but I'm betting it was the Sigma Nu chapter behind our house.  They somehow didn't find it funny we painted their side of the fence pink every year the night before rush started.  Oh well.

Great story    [clap]

Dolph     :)

i dont know where to start..

Quote from: herm on July 09, 2010, 06:00:20 PM
i dont know where to start..

It's easiest from the beginning. ;)

Quote from: ducpainter on July 09, 2010, 06:01:33 PM
It's easiest from the beginning. ;)

ok,

once upon a time...

Anyone here been to Grand Lake,Colorado on the 4th of July ???
In the late 80's someone who will remain nameless, may have done the following.
Act 1) late afternoon while on the way to Squeaky Bob's beergarden for some liquid refreshment, may have accidently pulled the pin on a mil-spec purple smoke grenade. Not knowing what to do after mis-placing said pin, disposed of smoke grenade into a nearby BBQ stand in the town square. Then procceded to enjoy  [drink] while watching the every growing cloud of purple smoke.

The town sets up a barge in the lake to shoot of fireworks, halfway thru the is a 10 - 15 minute pause while the tubes are reloaded for the second half. During this pause.

Act 2) during the intermission a mil-spec white parachute flare was set off. (for those not who have not seen one, they put out enough light to read a newspaper by, burn for about 2 minutes, and light up about 4 or 5 football fields) 10 to 15 thousand people all said "What the make the beast with two backs" in unision and the kids that were below us on the hill shooting off pop-bottle rockets all night, turn around looked up and said " We give, yours are much bigger"

Not the best...that is far too long to post here...but here's a fun one anyway about an employee I had a few years back

Nam Phuong

One of the last holdover restaurants from the pre-trendy era of Tribeca was a Vietnamese affair on 6th Ave. by Walker Street

My office was across the avenue and I became a regular there. The place was dark and indeed the owners had captured the atmosphere of a seedy Saigon Bar or at least the version Hollywood gave to those of us who were fortunate enough to have not been in Saigon in its "heyday"

My favorite dish was "House Special-Chicken w/Pan Fried Noodles"  Pan fried noodles were actually a brick of what looked liked angel hair pasta that had been deep-fried to a crisp. It came in a lidded styrofoam box and was accompanied with a white laminated cardboard quart carton of "house special" awash in a liquid sauce that would set your palate and nose on fire. It was noted on the take-out menu that this dish was "spicy"

I got to know the staff and it took about 4 visits before they understood that to me spicy needed to be "native make-you-break-into-a-sweat" spicy not the usual American "just-to-the-right-of-Swedish-meatball" spicy.

After they understood that I wasn't going to complain about the relative thermal dynamics they finally started giving me what I wanted.

They also gave me a name; "Spicy Boy"...50 years of age at the time..and I am "Spicy Boy"...no matter, call me what you want just get the order right

I would call the order in to Nam Phuong from my desk across the Avenue, they got to recognizing my voice and would confirm the order with the question " Is this Spicy Boy?"

"Yes it is"

"OK we make, 15 minute, you come"

I loved the House Special....they could have called it the Kitchen Sink...it had it all,,,, maybe "The Flaming Kitchen Sink" would have been more accurate....

but this stuff STANK, I mean it smelled like low-tide in Flushing Bay by the No. 7 Subway yards. It had celery, shitake's, carrots and a few veggies I can't name nor did I recognize and then it had the chunks of flattened chicken. The death-sauce was what pulled the entire assemblage together and turned the noodles into a submissive softened spaghetti.

I would make my score two or three times a week and scurry back to my desk to combine the ingredients and begin my bumpy road trip to culinary heaven.

There was only one problem..."House Special" would announce its presence to anyone within 500 yards of it. My office was on a floor in a landmarked building that took up an entire city block...any occupants of that floor knew someone was eating something. They would leave their desks and follow their noses until they homed in on the odor.

They would eventually come upon me, glaze-eyed and slurping away,,soggy Pan fried noodles hanging from my mouth like entrails of some road-kill, more often than not red hot sauce decorating my tie and shirt, partially melted plastic fork in hand. Invariably they would ask: What is that?"

"House Special Nam Phuong" gesturing with a jerk of my head toward the west

"Jeez Harrison that stinks!"

"This shit is great"

"Were you over there during the war?"

"No but I wish I was if this shit is what they cooked"

shaking their heads they would eye the gruel suspiciously and back away from my door

As the months wore on, every now and then I would hear a groan from somewhere on the floor as I dug into the latest batch of House Special; the death aroma would reach out its tentacles and perform a Tet Offensive surprise on unsuspecting nostrils..leading to someone shouting; "Harrison are you eating that shit again?"

Then people would commiserate grumbling among themselves about deterioration of quality of life and working conditions in the office.

Little did I know that my thrice-weekly self-indulgence was brewing far a greater disturbance. We'll call him "Willy"

"Willy" was a co-worker who festooned his office space with bright yellow Police Crime scene tape...hung like bunting over a firehouse door when one of the Bravest has fallen...it was meant to be humorous..but it was also a warning of sorts. Willy had pictures of soldiers firing M-16's on his walls, Cruise missiles in-flight, and various printed kill-slogans that usually were tattooed on the skin of soldiers..."kill them all and let God sort them out" sort of stuff

You see, Willy was a former Marine Corp member. He retired from the service as a lieutenant colonel back in the 1980's. He was a few years older than I and was otherwise studious and deliberately pleasant; a polite powder keg sort of a person waiting for someone or something to light his fuse. His behavior was what one would expect from a prison inmate up for parole board review....the smile was never consistant with what was going on behind his eyes...

I knew because I interviewed Willy, saw this and immediately extended an offer to him to come to work for us. I was sold on him because he was bright and judging from his ocular behavior...maybe a little bit nuts...but the selling point was that he had excellent masking skills...Hell everyone is a little bit off, the key is how well they can hide it...

Willy was good, he walked among us but had nothing in common with the rest of humanity. His carcass and mind may have been working with us.... but his soul was still out in some jungle doing awful things to his fellow man and enjoying it.

 I recall asking him about his service record during the interview...the coals in his eyes became small fires as he explained his last assignment as a forward fire-control coordinater in the Bekaa Valley after the Marine barracks were blown up in Beirut. He was in with us, evidently he liked suicide assignments and I needed him to guard my flanks in the corporate minefield of my job. Willy is at the shorter end of the stature spectrum, silver hair cut short but not buzzed; the left side of his upper lip was smashed to pieces at some point in the past and was stitched together fairly well, but Willy chose not to have any cosmetic work done on it. I still haven't asked him about it.

He never told me about his 2 tours in Vietnam, I never asked if he was there...hell, the Bekaa Valley got a spark going in his eyes, I didn't want to get a bonfire going by asking him about any other tours.

Willy was the model employee, indeed just like the model prisoner...people sensed danger but couldn't quite put a finger on it...perfect. Yes his ideas about office decor were somewhat forward, but he was incremental in his interior design approach and slowly over the years added a touch here or a slogan there.

In 2001 I was with Willy having a smoke on the street when the Trade Towers got hit. We were watching the first tower burning and had agreed it was terrorists at work when the second plane came in from the harbor side and slammed into the unscathed tower and confirmed it....the fireball and the black plume were enormous...a half second later the shockwaves from the explosion hit us hard...

Willy smiled....just a little...not a real "ha-ha" smile....there was nothing funny about the moment....I looked at him with a large question mark on my face...he looked right back...bonfires blazing with this weird smile...his eyes and his smile finally matched...they were consistant for the first time...I think it was the smile of the Jolly Roger, but one still covered in flesh

and he said "we're going to war"

Even though we were mere blocks from the Towers and had no idea of what was coming next; we both knew we were in a war-zone and shared that sense of complete uncertainty...were there more planes on the way?....were there more targets downtown?..truck bombs? who knew?...people were in panic or wailing, sobbing and crying all around us while we watched...Willy just mumbled; "pussies" and repeated; "We're going to war".........and he was right

Anyway back to Nam Phuong....my first clue about Willy's prior service experience was his refusal to ever join us when I would occasionally host a team meeting over at Nam Phuong.

But he also was the only one who never complained when I brought the House Special back to the office and gassed out the floor with its steaming contents and he sat less than 30 feet from me.

But not long after the Trade Towers went down he must have turned a corner.

One afternoon while I was feasting away I heard a crash come from Willy's office...we all heard it...like prairie dogs we all poked our heads out of our office doors and over the cubicle walls....Willy's computer screen was in the aisle smouldering and broken...more crashes and a desk top tower came flying out of the cube opening and momentarily embedded itself in the sheetrock wall then fell to the floor....at that moment Willy came out of his cubicle and marched up to my office door...

"Yes Willy, is something the matter?"

"Sir!! please sir, may I make a request?"

"Sure Willy"

"Sir PLEASE no more Vietnamese food. I have been having flashbacks and nightmares every make the beast with two backsing night after I smell that gook shit" (no more model prisoner)

"Willy, were you in Vietnam?"

"Yes sir, two make the beast with two backsing tours, the second one was to even up some scores from the first one sir.

"Gee Willy, I didn't know, you should have spoken up sooner"

"Thank you SIR! I almost came down here last night and torched that place sir!!! I'd rather not have to do that"

"No problem Willy, you really should have said something sooner.."

"I thought I could handle it sir"

"I guess not, call IT Willy, have someone see if they can put your PC back together"

"Yes sir, will there be any repercussions sir?"

"No Willy, the cleaning people are very clumsy here. If your hard disk is trashed then you have to figure out what to do to get your files back"

"Thank you sir my files are backed-up"

I couldn't resist, I said; "carry-on"

Nam Phuong closed not long after that. I don't think it was because I cut back on my orders, must have been the rent squeeze....it is now part of an expanded SoHo Pharmacy.

I miss the House Special probably as much as Willy doesn't miss Saigon

I haven't found anything quite as good since Nam closed, everything culinary down here now is overpriced and the establishments are designed for fabulous people to be noticed in....

Willy is once again the model prisoner, he looks more rested these days.

The hole in the sheet rock has a sales campaign poster covering it, from several years ago.

We leave it there because asking to have the wall repaired would lead to questions that don't need to be asked

besides, Damage Control and trying to keep damage covered is my team's specialty

You guys got any openings?  :)

Probably not the best but it gets told on Christmas every year.

So ther i was 18 or 19 when i first started drinking the fire water and every year we went down to Fresno to spend christmas with the family. Our family always celebrates christmas eve.  My cousins and i who are all 6+ years older than me start to partake in some frstivities. Playing cards and drinking games. This was the first time i really drank with them so we probably got a little carried away. Well it goes on till late in the night and at some point we all pass out.

Being the devoted Catholics we are my mom has to get me up for Christmas day mass. So im up, hungover and forced to go to church. I drink a bottle of water and take some tylenol and get dragged of to church. Were a little late so we sit in the back of this huge church, which happens to be the same church my parents were married in. Half way through, im not feeling too well. I ask my mom, where's the bath room? She points to the far side of the church. I think to myself, Fack, im not going to make it. Whatever it was i had last night is coming and there's not much i can do about it. I stand up take about a half of step and barf. Now i could have caught part of it in my hands, but at the moment of the money shot i said, fack i dont want that shit all over me. So i proceeded to barf on this guy infront of me dressed in his sunday best. Then i made it outside to continue to dry heave on the steps of the church for 10 minutes. Once i was done convulsing i made it to the bathroom to clean myself up and noticed the guy that i barfed on cleaning his jacket. I felt bad but wasnt much i could do.

Finally made it back to my seat and the guy followed shortly after.

My mom has never made us go to church on Christmas day since.

Quote from: DanTheMan on July 10, 2010, 05:25:42 AM


My mom has never made us go to church on Christmas day since.

I love a happy ending!  :D


You could include a link to your current adventure as well. That's a good story!

sac

Quote from: RAT900 on July 09, 2010, 09:09:20 PM
Pan fried noodles were actually a brick of what looked liked angel hair pasta that had been deep-fried to a crisp.

That would have been vermicelli. You can thank the French occupation of Vietnam for that.

And I seriously want to work in your office. I'm good and multi-tasking, have a flexible morality and decent written and verbal communication skills. Any other qualifications needed?   ;D

sac


/my aim is getting better too   ;)

Rat900 you have a way with words

I spent 4 years at sea........where on earth am I expected to begin?
There could be the time that we got T boned by an Indian Frigate whilst it was turning in port and got their bow stuck in the side of our ship, there could be the tomato plant that the chief officer stole from a crew member only to find out it was pot by customs, then there was loopy who wiped his ass whilst drunk one night in France with a handfull of stinging nettles.........Laugh? OMFG the whole ship gave him a ration for a week! Too funny!
Maybe the one about Loopy and Amore painting the ship pink one day in Bremen because they had had toooooooooooo much herb for breakfast( breakfast usually started for them around 5 am and they start work at 8 am........ that was a pretty funny one.
So many tales, all true and thanks for jogging the memory of this gal. [laugh]
BGB.

Sac, wonderful thread idea.

I don't really have much to add in the way of stories because i suck at telling them, but i'm loving reading the rest of them.

Quote from: KnightofNi on July 12, 2010, 05:01:51 AM
Sac, wonderful thread idea.

I don't really have much to add in the way of stories because i suck at telling them, but i'm loving reading the rest of them.

Aw c'mon, tell one anyway.

sac




/no moose allowed

Quote from: SacDuc on July 12, 2010, 06:31:56 AM

Aw c'mon, tell one anyway.

sac




/no moose allowed

ummmm....i spoke for my group of friends as we were all trashed in a state park as the park rangers were going to kick us out for drinking.

My group of friends will randomly decide to throw a get together with different themes just for the heck of it. This time we were all dressed up as boy scouts and girl scouts. I think the median age of the group was around 26 at this point. We had 6 coolers packed with beer and liquor, and 1 that had food in it (god I love camping)

We had been at the park all day, gone swimming, biking, hiking, gotten firewood, ect all in out scout outfits. It was the middle of summer and dark so that means it was after quiet hours began. Our site was chosen specifically because it was away from other ppl and was hidden further back into the woods.

we are sitting there having a grand time drinking, throwing things in the fire, singing, making fun of each other and basically acting like any group of mid to late 20somethings who finally have money and realize that we are getting older and will start having kids of our own act. I'm sure it will come as a surprise, but in my group I am known as the one who should not talk to authority figures. I speak my mind and am "the crazy one." I happened to be sitting right at the bottom of the trail that lead to our site and I looked up to see 2 lights bouncing towards us. At first I didn't realize what was going on and then I heard a sound that you can't describe but you would know what it is if you heard it. The jingling and clunking around of stuff on a heavy leather belt. The kind that hold a lot of things like radios, flashlights, possibly a multitool or knife, handcuffs and a gun.

I tried in vain to warn the rest of my group of the approaching danger (alcohol is illegal in PA state parks) but we were in no state to understand subtleties. So I slipped my beer behind the cooler under some underbrush and stood up to meet our guests. That's when everyone else figured it out. I was asked to sit back down as they came into the campsite and my buddy slinked off to hide the copious amount of liquor bottles on the table that were in plain view. The rangers started asking us questions and knowing my proclivity to say the right thing at exactly the wrong time I kept quiet. Until there was a very uncomfortable pause and the guy with the gun started to look agitated that is. I looked at everyone else, they looked at me slack jawed, I looked at the rangers, the rangers looked at me and their posture stiffened. The opening went something like this:

Ranger: “Are you aware of the laws governing alcohol in Pennsylvania state parks?”

Crickets: “chirp chir...”

Nature: “Dude, it's the police, shut up!”

Me: “Well officer, I'm guessing that since you brought it up there's a problem.”

Ranger#2: “Yeah! It's illegal!”

At this point my buddy had started throwing bottles into the woods.

Me: “Ohh, sorry. Do we need to dump our beers then?”

Ranger: “Yes. And we need to check your coolers.”


We all inhaled sharply and tried to get a few last swigs in. The latter part of that was not looked upon well and we were told to stop drinking immediately. They searched my cooler and only ice water was left in it. *sigh of relief* they searched another that was full the last time I went for a beer and miraculously there were only 3 or 4 bottles left. Meanwhile my bottle hiding friend returned and while the rangers were looking one way we grabbed blankets and towels to cover up the other coolers in hopes that they wouldn't be seen. That only worked for 1 cooler. The other 2 were searched and one was all food.  The other in a matter of divine intervention was opened, but he never looked in, or if he did, he just didn't say anything. It was right at that point that my brain both failed me and saved the mother lode of our beer. I say failed because I had already chided myself for speaking up when nobody else would, and I had gotten the stare down from the ones who can actually deal with situations like this and not say something incredibly inappropriate.

Me: “Out of curiosity, what's the penalty for drinking in the park?”

Friends: *facepalm*

Ranger: “We don't' want to be dicks, but you have to follow the rules. If you guys don't have anymore then we'll go, but we'll check back up on you. If you are still drinking then we have to kick you out of the park and ban you from coming back.”

Me: “So we would have to pack up and go home tonight?

Ranger: “Yes.”

Me: “That doesn't sound smart. Why would you put a bunch of people who are obviously drunk on the road?”

Ranger: kinda chuckling but only because I'm stupid “We could call the state troopers to come pick you up.”

Me: “Yeah, that doesn't sound fun, but the ride home would be nice of them…”

Random friend in the crowd: “So we dumped all the beer…”

Ranger: “So you should all go to bed. We'll be back by in a few hours to check up on you so if you do have more don't drink it.”

Ranger#2: “Can I ask, what's with the scout uniforms?”

After a brief explanation of why we were dressed as scouts they walked off laughing. We never got their names, but they were dubbed Officers Al Coholic and Craven Morehead. We did thank them for being cool and not making us drive home drunk. We then opened the coolers to check our stash. We were saved, plenty of beer for the next night. So we did the logical thing and opened a beer to celebrate. As they were getting in their car I'm sure the last thing they heard was me saying “Dude, at least wait until they are gone before you open that!”


And yes, we found the rest of the liquor.

When I was probably 13-15.............


I made an amazing 500 yard shot with a Daisy Pump action BB Gun into a huge bay window, cracking and breaking it.


That has got to be some sort of record in the likes of BB Gun Antics.

or

<edited so one threadjack doesn't turn into me being anti-animal. God help me. Not sure what I'd do next to my two doberman's and a red eared slider............>

Everyone please send ducpainter multiple PMs until he posts the story of how he convinced the Missus to go out on a date with him. I love that story.

sac

Best DMF related story:

At Spidey's B-day party (a few years back) watching random girls do shots from my wife's cleavage. She had just been changed out of her fairy outfit and squeezed into a corset that was a couple of cup sizes too small.   [thumbsup]

I'm pretty sure I put my balls on tigre's forehead at that party too. There are pictures somewhere.


Runner Up:

motogpfan and SnakeGirl fly in to Santa Barbara from Florida.

This was before the engagement, marriage and divorce. SG's friend was getting married in SB and she was in the wedding. So she was off doing wedding things when we met motogp and went to the bar. It was motogp, me, Polpetta and bobspapa (who had fairly recently become very serious over some chick or whatever  ;) ). We had an outdoor table and a nice view of the harbor. The beer starts to flow. More beers. More beers. We pretty much ran through the entire DML/DMF deciding who was a douchebag and who wasn't. I don't know who got the idea, but someone looked at the menu and said "Look, Oyster Shooters!" So we ordered a round. Upon close inspection after they arrived it was determined that there was no vodka in the oyster shooters. What kind of place serves oyster shooters without vodka? So I asked the waitress, "What kind of place serves oyster shooters without vodka?" She suggests that we could order shots of vodka on the side. BRILLIANT! So doubles of Absolute Citron it was.

Now Joel was being a pretty good boy, just a couple of beers and I think we were only able to talk him into one oyster shooter at this point. But still, he had a couple of drinks and we really wanted him to stay so we convinced him that it would be very very unsafe to ride home. So he called that girl he was digging on to let her know. She was . . . not happy. Had cooked him a special meal, etc. So the alcohol in me decides that it would be a good idea to take the phone from Joel and smooth this whole thing out. I think I actually remember the exact moment when she decided to hate me. Oh well. I figure I took one for the team. Better have her hating me than him, right? And he stayed. So now Joel started drinking in earnest. More beers. More Oyster Shooters.

To be honest I don't remember if SnakeGirl arrived before or after this, but we got kicked out of the bar unexpectedly. A waitress (who clearly just drew the short straw) mumbled that she couldn't serve us anymore and that they had just gone through some alcohol training of some sort or another blah blah blah. Luckily, the build next door was, guessed it. Another bar! Yay!

At the new bar alcohol decided for me that big chocolate desserts and bottles of red dessert wine was a good idea. My motor skills were well impaired at this point and I promptly spilled a full bottle of wine into my lap. Shrug.

After a couple of drinks SnakeGirl told motogp that it was time for them to go get ready for the rehearsal dinner. I'm paraphrasing here but motogp responded, "I don't wanna go to that shit. I'm staying here and drinking." Ha ha. Very funny. Let's go. But Nick was very serious. make the beast with two backs that wedding stuff. And of course the argument began to escalate. But my lovely wife talked him down and he acquiesced. That's when I spilled the second bottle of wine in my lap. It was just the punctuation mark that was needed to let everyone know that this night is either over or there will be police involved. We all got up and left. I was later informed that SnakeGirl wished she would have left his drunk ass there as motogp was unanimously voted biggest asshole at the rehearsal dinner.

So the way I figure it, being an obnoxious ass and a sloppy drunk made two relationships better that night. I'm like Dr. Phil.


sac



/oh yeah, I met my wife on the board after she PM'd me to see if I was okay after my crash
//definitely my favorite DML story

Here's one of mine.

http://trenner.blogspot.com/2009/01/raccoon-city.html (http://trenner.blogspot.com/2009/01/raccoon-city.html)

I was in my sophomore year at Berklee College of Music in Boston, MA.  My friends and I were drinking quite heavily, and decided to see what might be across the Mass Ave bridge on the MIT campus.  I won the footrace across the bridge to the Cambridge side, which blocked a lot of cars causing them to honk and swear.

We made a right onto Memorial Drive, and came across some sort of shindig in a building called The Gray house on Ames St, not sure if it's a dormitory or a frat house or whatever.  We were not on the guest list, obviously, so we went back around to the side and climbed the stone wall to get in.  Upon getting in, my friend Nick said 'spread out!' and I didn't really know what he meant but I saw him disappear into the crowd.  All 7 of us spread out and tried to blend into the crowd, though unfortunately some of got snagged by the security.  Don't know why security was at the party, but they were.  One guy grabbed me by the collar and said, "Gotcha ya little faggot!" which I found hilarious, began laughing at him, he did not appreciate this, and I was tossed out the front door.  Literally tossed, he then yelled, "And stay out", which I laughed at even more.

I then called Nick on his phone, and said, "I got kicked out, let's get go somewhere else."  He said to meet him on the corner by Memorial.

I walked to Memorial where 2 other ejected friends were, and asked, "You guys see the others?"

We then heard a yell, 3 of our other friends were running down the block screaming, "Go!  Start running!"  We then heard the crash of a glass window being broken, a wooden chair fell into the middle of the street, and my friend Nick then jumped from the second story onto the grass with a filled backpack which he didn't have before we arrived.  We hightailed it back to the bridge and lost whoever it was that was chasing us, probably security.

Nick filled us in that it was a dry party, but he did manage to find the only stash of wine and scotch in the entire building, shoved it in a bag, and leapt out the window when someone found him.

You better believe we made all of that booze disappear that evening.  That was an exceptionally entertaining evening.

I'm drawing a blank on a worthwhile story of my own but loving all yours.  [thumbsup]

Sac,

That story is one of the best I have heard of Motogp and SnakeGirl.

That was before my official meeting of them in Indianapolis unexpectedly one weekend. make the beast with two backs, I don't even remember what I was in town for. Might have been time trials for the Indy 500, who make the beast with two backsing knows.

One of the standout stories of that night is of course the famous Artwerk Photo of Nick and I. Or our 4' 11" bartender who weight about 50lbs claiming she was going to be a firewoman (she called it that, not me) and tried to carry Nick or Suzy's brother across the bar. I don't recall the outcome, but probably not in her favor.

make the beast with two backsing jager and a lot of Stella.

(Just met Suzy at said bar the night before the 500 and the god damn wench made me close the bars down with her. Thanks 2 hours of sleep)

Oh I miss the old days of them together. Such a great match. Just didn't work.

Cyrus-thats not a very nice thing to do to cats or any animal. In fact,I think thats pretty sick.
You disappoint and disgust me.
BGB

Quote from: badgalbetty on July 12, 2010, 04:41:46 PM
Cyrus-thats not a very nice thing to do to cats or any animal. In fact,I think thats pretty sick.
You disappoint and disgust me.
BGB

That's fine.

When they cause over $1,000 worth of scratch marks on your vehicle and then hide in the engine block of anothers when they started it..........do you want me to paint you a picture of that mess and damage to a new car?..........then we'll talk.

As I mentioned......we called every group in the city to no avail.

Walk in our shoes......then we'll chat about it.

Quote from: trenner on July 12, 2010, 02:04:54 PM
Here's one of mine.

http://trenner.blogspot.com/2009/01/raccoon-city.html (http://trenner.blogspot.com/2009/01/raccoon-city.html)

[laugh] [laugh] [laugh]  [clap] [clap] [clap]

A tale well spun, my friend.

Cyrus------>"Walk in our shoes......then we'll chat about it."

me----------> Try mine........you don't have the balls! [laugh]

Quote from: badgalbetty on July 12, 2010, 06:35:36 PM
Cyrus------>"Walk in our shoes......then we'll chat about it."

me----------> Try mine........you don't have the balls! [laugh]

Okay, you two can compare ball size through PMs. We'll keep this thread about the stories.

kthanksluvyabye


sac

sorry Carl :-*

Got a few of my own, but this one's short & sweet and the only thing in my head at this late hour:

Ferris State University is in Big Rapids, MI.  Never heard of it?  Yeah, me neither until I got accepted.  Anywho, as luck would have it I got paired up with an alcoholic room mate who was over 21, had a car, and had a credit card his Dad paid the bill on.  My liver has a much shorter shelf-life thanks to Simon Sytsma and that credit card.

Anywho, it's Michigan in the winter so it's cold as f*&k.  Thursday nights were the big drinkin' night and the Alibi bar was *THE* place to go, so we went.  As per usual, Simon is trying hard to get laid from anything which resembles a female and I'm sipping whatever was cheap and bottled as the tap beer was t-h-i-n-n-e-d out a bit.

I'm bopping along to the music (this boy don't dance, sober or otherwise) when I notice the bar door open and it's filled with the barrel chest of a State-Trooper.

make the beast with two backs.  I'm 20.  I must have been the ONLY one in the place to see the Troopers enter.  I turned around after seeing that shiny star pinned on that uniform, finished my beer, set the bottle down and proceeded to walk out the same door they were all filing in through.  Must have passed about 6 of them as 4 or 5 had already filed inside.  As I'm approaching the last outside door, it opens to reveal one more MI State Trooper.....Who held the door open for me as I left!!!

I thanked him and proceeded to walk home (about 2 miles) without my jacket.  When you're as drunk as I was, you don't much feel the cold....  Simon?  Well, they let him go as he was over 21 but they made it a point to put in the papers the next Sunday that 50 or so were found to be underage and drunk.  The bar survived a bit longer, but was gone by the next semester.

Quote from: SacDuc on July 12, 2010, 12:29:26 PM
Everyone please send ducpainter multiple PMs until he posts the story of how he convinced the Missus to go out on a date with him. I love that story.

sac

I'll tell anyway...not sure if it's my best, but it is good.

About ten years ago I had split with my wife of 15 years...no drama...things just kinda fell apart.

I was a wild and wooly NH resident at the time...pony tail down to my ass...I think the beard was gone.

I walked into a bar kinda late...it was my birthday and I was alone.

There was a hot blonde behind the bar...I made all the typical chatter...until close to 11 when she said "get out, you're cutting in to my drinking time." She's a New Yorker, so being rude comes natural. :-*

I was kind of shocked, and disappointed, but I left and came home to my empty house.

I continued to patronize the bar and finally got up the nerve to ask her out.

She replied, "I don't go out with guys with pony tails." I smiled and said OK.

The next day after work I went and got my hair cut. I walked into the bar and sat down with an evil grin on my face. She looked at me and without saying a word poured my drink and disappeared.

Later I would find out she disappeared to tell her boss that I had cut my hair and now she had to go out with me. She didn't really want to, and never thought I'd cut off my pony tail.

We'll be married on the 25th of this month....the one thing I told her I wasn't willing to do. Oh well things change. There's been a lot of water over the dam since we met, but cutting that pony tail off turned out to be a good choice.

Damn ^^^^^ this is good...hell its Biblical....

just don't let it play out like Samson and Delilah  ;D

I'll need at least a full page to myself in this thread.


1) A week before I turned 18, my neighbors left on a trip to europe, and asked me to check on their house while they were gone. The also gave me the keys to their Mercury Montego MX (351 W, posi rear, etc.). I was driving a 1966 VW beetle at the time.
     So, My birth date comes, and the herb and alcohol flow. About 11 o'clock, we run out of beer, and decide to take the neighbors Montego on a beer run. On the way back, I decide to "see what this thing'll do" and floor it. We're doing about 110 when I see the flashing lights behind me, so I brake hard, and make a quick right turn off the highway onto a secondary street where the car promptly dies. [bang] My friend in the passenger seat has been swilling off of a quart of beer, and i tell him to hide it quick.
     Cop pulls up behind us, "license and registration" and this is where the fun really begins;
The license and registration have absolutely nothing in common. I explain the situation, and luckily the cop decides I'm too stupid to have stolen the car, and proceeds to start writing. Just then, my friend opens the passenger door, and the quart of beer (which he had cleverly hidden between the seat and the door) drops out and goes rolling across the pavement. [bang] [bang]
The cop says absolutely nothing.
I just put my head in my hands.

The cop finishes writing, and tells me "head straight home. If I see you out here again tonight, I'll take you straight to jail" and hands me
.
.
.
A WARNING!

Quote from: badgalbetty on July 12, 2010, 06:35:36 PM
Cyrus------>"Walk in our shoes......then we'll chat about it."

me----------> Try mine........you don't have the balls! [laugh]

Want to have a peeing contest next or a roller derby match?

Towson state U is just north of Baltimore. In 198X I was enrolled as a communications major, and had the opportunity to work at the college radio station. After a few semesters, I worked my way up to DJ a show from 2 to 4 am called "The Cosmic Music Experience". The playlist was basically Pink Floyd, Tubular Bells, Jimi, Grateful Dead, Jeff Beck, etc. I was a natural in that I actually liked all that hippy trippy music.
At that time of night, the studio was shall we say, less than crowded. Usually just me and about half the time, a producer handling the phones and pulling albums from the stacks.
So one night, I'm in the studio, and my buddy calls on the station phone to tell me he'd just scored some amazing bud, so I told him to come right over. I had a producer that night, but I knew he was cool, so I figured it was O.K..
So my producer goes downstairs to let my buddy in, and they come back, walk in, and my buddy pulls a bong out of his backpack. It gets passed around a couple of times, and just as I'm about to hit it, the current song ends. I do a station identification, and start another song, then take a huge hit and hack and ralf for about a minute. You know, SLUUUUURP. . HACK!! ARRF!! ARRGLE!! RALF!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!

The phone rings and my producer picks it up, listens a minute, turns white as a sheet, runs over to the console, and CUTS OFF MY MICROPHONE.
T

Always make me laugh, just a short little story.

I was 17, coaching a youth hockey team back in New Jersey.  We had our draft and I was calling all the kids and their parents to tell them what team they were on and when their first practice was.  So I call this one kid, and begin to leave a message on the answering machine.  "Hi Timmy, this is Dante, I'm your hockey coach for the Fall league, and you'll be on the Grizzlies.  Our first practice is this Saturday at 10am, so tell your parents, and . . . "

I then, without warning, let out the biggest belch I've ever performed to this day, right into the receiver.  It lasted a good 2 seconds, and I was so shocked I didn't think to put the phone down.  I then didn't know what to say, so I paused for a moment, said "Oh, Jesus," and quickly hung up the phone.

So imagine the parents firing up their messages and hearing:

"... so tell your parents, and . . . Brraaaaaagghhhhgghhhhhh!!!! ...         oh, Jesus ....." *click

Quote from: RAT900 on July 13, 2010, 02:53:06 AM
Damn ^^^^^ this is good...hell its Biblical....

just don't let it play out like Samson and Delilah  ;D

Shit...

I don't have enough strength left to make it possible. ;)

Quote from: Bun-bun on July 13, 2010, 12:35:43 PM
Towson state U is just north of Baltimore. In 198X I was enrolled as a communications major, and had the opportunity to work at the college radio station. After a few semesters, I worked my way up to DJ a show from 2 to 4 am called "The Cosmic Music Experience". The playlist was basically Pink Floyd, Tubular Bells, Jimi, Grateful Dead, Jeff Beck, etc. I was a natural in that I actually liked all that hippy trippy music.
At that time of night, the studio was shall we say, less than crowded. Usually just me and about half the time, a producer handling the phones and pulling albums from the stacks.
So one night, I'm in the studio, and my buddy calls on the station phone to tell me he'd just scored some amazing bud, so I told him to come right over. I had a producer that night, but I knew he was cool, so I figured it was O.K..
So my producer goes downstairs to let my buddy in, and they come back, walk in, and my buddy pulls a bong out of his backpack. It gets passed around a couple of times, and just as I'm about to hit it, the current song ends. I do a station identification, and start another song, then take a huge hit and hack and ralf for about a minute. You know, SLUUUUURP. . HACK!! ARRF!! ARRGLE!! RALF!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!

The phone rings and my producer picks it up, listens a minute, turns white as a sheet, runs over to the console, and CUTS OFF MY MICROPHONE.
T

[laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

So my son turns 13, and we have "the talk". Y'know; "your body's changing, , blah blah, urges, yadda yadda"
So everything's good for a while, and then one day I enter his room to get the plates and cups that he left in there so I can wash the dishes, and I notice a tube of hemorrhoid cream on his nightstand. Later that evening I ask him, and he says yeah, he's had some itching, so he borrowed it from Mom. I let it slide by, and tell him I hope it clears up soon.
A few days go by, and I'm in his room collecting again, and I notice the tube of cream is almost empty, and I know it was new the last time I saw it, so I ask him what he used that much hemorrhoid cream for. He squirms, and turns bright red, and it all of a sudden hit me; 13, urges, cream. . . before I can stop myself I hear myself say "A___, that's supposed to shrink swelling!"
Next day I went and bought him a jar of vaseline.

 [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

Quote from: Bun-bun on July 13, 2010, 03:18:30 PM
So my son turns 13, and we have "the talk". Y'know; "your body's changing, , blah blah, urges, yadda yadda"
So everything's good for a while, and then one day I enter his room to get the plates and cups that he left in there so I can wash the dishes, and I notice a tube of hemorrhoid cream on his nightstand. Later that evening I ask him, and he says yeah, he's had some itching, so he borrowed it from Mom. I let it slide by, and tell him I hope it clears up soon.
A few days go by, and I'm in his room collecting again, and I notice the tube of cream is almost empty, and I know it was new the last time I saw it, so I ask him what he used that much hemorrhoid cream for. He squirms, and turns bright red, and it all of a sudden hit me; 13, urges, cream. . . before I can stop myself I hear myself say "A___, that's supposed to shrink swelling!"
Next day I went and bought him a jar of vaseline.

wow.....it must be nice to have parents that understand and aren't dicks about that sort of thing.

Quote from: Bun-bun on July 13, 2010, 12:35:43 PM
Towson state U is just north of Baltimore. In 198X I was enrolled as a communications major, and had the opportunity to work at the college radio station.
T

hmmmm - our paths may have crossed at some point...I was at Goucher around that time.   [cheeky]

Quote from: dolci on July 14, 2010, 05:01:53 AM
hmmmm - our paths may have crossed at some point...I was at Goucher around that time.   [cheeky]

Yep, right up the street, just past the mall. Ever go to that pizza joint on the corner of York rd and College dr.?

Quote from: Bun-bun on July 14, 2010, 05:27:37 AM
Yep, right up the street, just past the mall. Ever go to that pizza joint on the corner of York rd and College dr.?

Yes, yes I did.  Pizza Palace?

Yep, Pizza Palace. Long gone now. What years were you there? I was 1982-85. My sister went to Goucher from 87-91.

This is a touching reunion. If only there was some way for you guys to message each other privately so you could discuss your shared history in depth while leaving the thread on topic. Oh well.

I demand more stories.

sac


/did everyone know that they serve beer at Chuck E Cheese?
//and that you don't actually need to have a kid with you to be there?
///and that they don't really seem to have a protocol for dealing with two drunks who won't stop hogging the basketball game?
////and that I love my brother deeply for saying, "Hell yeah!" when I spotted said Chuck E Cheese on the way to the next bar and suggested we stop?

Quote from: KnightofNi on July 14, 2010, 04:42:44 AM
wow.....it must be nice to have parents that understand and aren't dicks about that sort of thing.

Catholic?

sac

i was born in feb 1980 -_-

old bastids, keep the stories coming.. seems you older folks have better stories..  

Quote from: cokey on July 14, 2010, 06:47:31 PM
i was born in feb 1980 -_-

old bastids, keep the stories coming.. seems you older folks have better stories..  

Give it time...  You'll have yours!  ;D

Quote from: Bun-bun on July 13, 2010, 03:18:30 PM
So my son turns 13, and we have "the talk". Y'know; "your body's changing, , blah blah, urges, yadda yadda"
So everything's good for a while, and then one day I enter his room to get the plates and cups that he left in there so I can wash the dishes, and I notice a tube of hemorrhoid cream on his nightstand. Later that evening I ask him, and he says yeah, he's had some itching, so he borrowed it from Mom. I let it slide by, and tell him I hope it clears up soon.
A few days go by, and I'm in his room collecting again, and I notice the tube of cream is almost empty, and I know it was new the last time I saw it, so I ask him what he used that much hemorrhoid cream for. He squirms, and turns bright red, and it all of a sudden hit me; 13, urges, cream. . . before I can stop myself I hear myself say "A___, that's supposed to shrink swelling!"
Next day I went and bought him a jar of vaseline.

In a weird way that reminds me of a story from my childhood. Let me preface it by saying that I was an extremely precocious child and most adults would just stare in confusion after a brief chat with me. I don't remember much of this story, but my father puffs up his chest with pride whenever it comes up and marks it as the moment he undeniably knew I was his child.


I was 6 or 7 at the time and I was being an absolute insufferable shit to my stepmom. She was trying really hard but things had recently taken a turn for the worse, seeing as I had gotten kicked out of the soccer team for convincing a teammate whose parents were in the middle of a nasty divorce that they were splitting up because of him, and that the fighting was over who would get to not have him. This meant that I had an extra 3 hours in which to drive my poor stepmom up the walls. To make matter worse I was bursting with energy after school as I no longer was engaged in strenuous physical activity for 3 hours in the early afternoon.

The situation degenerated until she was forced to call my father at work and have him come deal with me. At the time my dad was heading things or Exxon in Venezuela, so you imagine how bad things had to be for his day to be interrupted. So my father heads on home with murder in his eyes and fully intent on dealing with the situation. I had no idea that he was coming, as it was just another day another fight with my stepmom for me.

You have to understand that at this point they had tried absolutely everything with me; talking, smacking, punishing, taking away things, chores; nothing seemed to work. Ever the manager, my dad had decided to try a new approach. I was in my room, playing with my circuits starter set when I heard my door open and my father walk in. I remember being puzzled  as to why he was home so early and asking him so.

He sat down next to me and said in a very frank voice:

"Son, it is time that you and I had a Man to Man talk. There are things that I need you to understand and they're very important that you pay very close attention. "

And my little 6-7 year old self looks up at him just as frankly and says:

"Dad, don't worry, if this is about sex, I already know"

My father did the only thing he could. Left the room and laughed his ass off. I wasn't punished.

Quote from: cokey on July 14, 2010, 06:47:31 PM
i was born in feb 1980 -_-

old bastids, keep the stories coming.. seems you older folks have better stories..  

It takes practice. Unless you were raised poorly or are in some way pathological, good stories can be hard to make. There's always that little angel on your shoulder that says, "You souldn't do that." But if you ignore it enough that make the beast with two backsing killjoy gives up after a while. Then the good stories happen. Of course being young, stupid, drunk and reckless helps as well.

sac

This one here is pretty good:

http://ducatimonsterforum.org/index.php?topic=26965.msg491937#msg491937 (http://ducatimonsterforum.org/index.php?topic=26965.msg491937#msg491937)

Quote from: KnightofNi on July 14, 2010, 04:42:44 AM
wow.....it must be nice to have parents that understand and aren't dicks about that sort of thing.

Just so you don't go nominating me for sainthood or sumthin'. . .
El Matador's story reminded me.
About the same time as the swelling incident, my son started to lie.
Constantly
and badly
We tried what we knew, grounding, removal of privileges, a good smack in the chops, etc., nothing worked for more than a few days. Finally, one day, he came home and told us some bogus story about one of his teachers, which he then admitted was a lie when we made as if to call the school and talk to that teacher.
I had a sudden rush of brains to the head, and grabbed a piece of cardboard and a sharpie, and wrote "I am a liar, and cannot be trusted", took some string, and made him hang it around his neck. We then went out of the house, and walked around the neighborhood, and he got to explain to all of the kids we met why he was wearing a sign.
When we were done, I hung the sign in the living room and told him we would do this every time he lied.
It worked.

It was in the Summer time. My Brother was still in High School and I think I had just graduated.

My Brother tells me that a bunch of hot chicks from his class are having a slumber party and it's at so and so's house not too far away .

Well we get the idea to check it out.

So about 1 am we sneak out of the house and actually walk to this house .

We scope it out as best we can in the moonlight and we can her the music playing and the girls laughing so my Brother gets the bright idea to go up to the house and he pears into a bedroom window and there are several girls in there.

Well some how he got noticed and identified so we backed off but he said he heard the girls talking about walking up to a Cemetery .

So I thought it would be cool to go hide in the Cemetery and try to scare the pants of the chicks when they got there.

Sure enough , in just a little bit we could hear them coming.

I was hiding behind one of the biggest Tombstones in a not very big Cemetery.
[evil
When the girls got there and started to walk into the Cemetery I heard one say " Wouldn't it be really scary if someone rose up out of one of these Graves " and w, that I climbed up on the Tombstone, then jumped off and and shrieked as loud as I could !

Well they all went running , screaming back towards the house but what my Brother and I didn't know was when he was identified peeking in the bedroom window , one of the girls told her Mother who in turn called and woke up my Parents , who in turn were really pissed off at us and were waiting for us when we tried to sneak back into the house.

We got a good scolding and and lost car privileges for a week.

It was worth it to her those girls squeal and scream.

Dolph       [evil]  

Ducati related:

How I snuck 2 Ducati Monsters onto Ducati Island for free for the entire weekend:

June 2006 found me working late nights and early mornings trying hard to finish up the Coup D'etat for a debut on Ducati Island which was the next month.  Through some bad luck, I ended up breaking my L. thumb about 3 weeks before the event. 

Evidence of broken thumb:
(http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4117/4794922257_d491f76e45_b.jpg)

Let me go on the record here:  If it were not for the never wavering help of my good friend Gil G (m9hundo here on the board) during those weeks, the bike would never had made it to the island.  No F'n way.  He is an amazing guy and I'll never forget him or his help in my hour of need.

Back to the story:  With the help of other SoCal DMF'ers we got damn, damn close to the bike being finished and ready for Ducati Island.  In fact, by the time we got the bikes on the trailer it was 1 pm on Thursday (IIRC).  I called Gary Eagan on his cell and asked him if I could get my bikes onto the island for display.  He said 'sure!', but you have to be here by 2pm.  Uh, yeah...we're like 6 hours away.  So, an official escorted and welcomed entrance was not going to happen.  We kept rollin'.  Where there's a will....  and damn did we have some will!

We pressed on despite the obvious challenge that lay ahead.  By the time we got up to Monterey (about 5 miles from Laguna), it was late and dark-ish.  We met up with Jeff H, Michael Moore and Drunken Monkey (IIRC) and got some dinner.  Since we had no lodging, we decided it was a good idea to spend the night in Gil's p/u truck w/the bikes still on the open trailer.  Eh, by this point...it was late so we did it.  Slept for sh*t but anyone who's ever slept in a p/u truck will already know that.

Morning came and the bikes were still on the trailer:
(http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4100/4794922343_755c435346_b.jpg)

Gil was...um...across the street taking a sunrise photo I think.
(http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4073/4795559912_031db2c998_b.jpg)

Morning came and we got up early and got ready to go to the track w/still NO plan.  We drove up to the track gate to see if we could talk our way in.  That was a no-go (would've been too damned easy anyhow!).  ;D  Here's how stupid I am: I have a broken thumb in an arm cast.  So, I think it's a good idea to cut the sleeve of my textile jacket so I can get my cast through it and then RIDE my Cafe-Racer the 4 or so miles down a 15mph heavily enforced military base road to get onto the track.  Yeah.  Sometimes when my thumb cracks a funny way (even today) I just don't even wonder why.  Let's just say I was a-hurtin' sumptin' fierce by the time I got to the track and then had to ride around through the crowds looking for Ducati Island as I'd never been there before. 

Hind-sight?  Stupid as hell.

In the moment?  Great idea!  [bang]

Ok, so the CR's on the island.  One down, one to go.  Bear in mind that we never really did finish up the Coup D'etat.  She was a roller, but not a runner at that point.  Ended up talking w/Jeff H who mentioned that his wife had a friend who had a gelato / pasta booth nearby who had a Vendor Pass.  We walked over and I ended up making some kind of ridiculous promise of returning it and he loaned it to me.   ;D  [evil]

Jeff had something to do 'real quickly'...  Well, that turned into almost an hour before he returned and we got on his M620 w/me on the back again in my cut-up textile jacket and rolled out the 4 miles on the military road to the main drag where Gil was still waiting patiently for my return.  By this point....it was literally almost 2 hours.  Poor guy just waited w/o food or water.  What a trooper!  Jeff dropped me off, and returned onto the island.  Thanks again Jeff!  I had Gil drive to the nearest food location he wanted and immediately bought him lunch and a LARGE soda...  Gil's demise was averted for another day.  [thumbsup]

Now the fun part.  Convincing the track officials that we indeed did belong on the island w/a bike that didn't run, a borrowed Vendor Pass and some dumb-dumb luck.  We drove back through the same gate we did earlier and quickly flashed the vendor pass making up some BS about how we were late and this bike absolutely HAD to be on Ducati Island like right now!  Well...it worked and they let us through in the p/u truck and the bike on the trailer.  I began to breath a little easier at this point...

We rolled the truck down to a large dirt turn-around and began to unload it when I hear this loud voice shouting something about how she couldn't have me parked there as there was a bus w/120 tourists on it that needed to unload RIGHT HERE in 2 minutes!!!  My cool and collected reply, "GREAT!.......We'll be out of here in 1."  8)  At that she actually helped us unload the bike right there.  [thumbsup]  Gil took the pass and the truck to a grassy hill A LONG WAY from anywhere so he could park it w/o the pass in it (we had to return it) and hopefully the security wouldn't go that far up the hill to see if there was a pass or not...

I paddled the Coup D'etat out of the unloading zone to comply w/my 1 minute promise and began removing the duct-tape from the carb so I could hang the air-cleaner on it.  As I was doing this, I felt eyes watching me.  I looked up to see about 8-10 people in a semi-circle just staring slack-jawed.   [bow_down]  I smiled and made some smart-ass remark that I don't recall...  ;D

Gil ended up cutting up a piece of newspaper to resemble the Vendor Pass and walking like a MILE or so down to Ducati Island to meet up w/me.  I had dog-paddled the Coup D'etat right next to the CR *RIGHT* at the entrance...

(http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4075/4794922415_929cd9048e_b.jpg)
^^That's Gil, BTW...^^

Met Toasty for the first-time!

(http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4079/4794922491_709e2ecdc0_b.jpg)

Well, we had some more adventures that weekend but they paled in comparison to the above...  Damn was that fun!

(http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4077/4795555740_0b53b6eea0_b.jpg)

^^^That, right there....is one tired but happy Mo-Fo.  ;D

[bow_down]

Too tired tonight, but the story of how I snuck onto Ducati Island for 2007 was also an epic tale of lies and deceit.  [popcorn]


...oh yeah, and it involves a neon green gift bag too.  [thumbsup]  [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

I was one of the people that brought Toasty down to Laguna Seca. I remember meeting you and marveling at the Coup. [thumbsup]

Quote from: SacDuc on July 14, 2010, 06:41:30 PM
/did everyone know that they serve beer at Chuck E Cheese?
//and that you don't actually need to have a kid with you to be there?
///and that they don't really seem to have a protocol for dealing with two drunks who won't stop hogging the basketball game?
////and that I love my brother deeply for saying, "Hell yeah!" when I spotted said Chuck E Cheese on the way to the next bar and suggested we stop?

[laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

You can also get beer at Disney Animal Kingdom.  I used to date Tinker Bell there.  That was interesting getting blasted and wandering around the park while young strange children recognize my girlfriend as being Tinker Bell (though out of uniform) and then noticing her soused boyfriend.

Quote from: NoisyDante on July 14, 2010, 09:04:53 PM
[laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

You can also get beer at Disney Animal Kingdom.  I used to date Tinker Bell there.  That was interesting getting blasted and wandering around the park while young strange children recognize my girlfriend as being Tinker Bell (though out of uniform) and then noticing her soused boyfriend.

make the beast with two backs the beer stuff!!..........You make the beast with two backsing scored Tinkerbell??....that icon of magical delicate and fragile beauty and innocence??  

you are my make the beast with two backsing Hero!!  Did you boink her "in-costume"?

This is wonderful.... [clap] [clap] [clap]

I am here on my other (work) PC trying to write something meaningful about architecting the foundation infrastructure for Unified Communications migration strategies...

and here you are sharing about getting wasted and having Tinkerbell in your hands...guess which one is more important??

oh yes there is a make the beast with two backsing god...please please phots with narrative

Quote from: NoisyDante on July 14, 2010, 09:04:53 PM
[laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

You can also get beer at Disney Animal Kingdom.  I used to date Tinker Bell there.  That was interesting getting blasted and wandering around the park while young strange children recognize my girlfriend as being Tinker Bell (though out of uniform) and then noticing her soused boyfriend.

Um, dude? This is the story thread. You don't just say you dated Tinker Bell and leave it at that. How make the beast with two backsing dare you! Now make with the story about the first time she brought the costume home.

sac

Quote from: Duck-Stew on July 14, 2010, 07:55:30 PM
Too tired tonight, but the story of how I snuck onto Ducati Island for 2007 was also an epic tale of lies and deceit.  [popcorn]


...oh yeah, and it involves a neon green gift bag too.  [thumbsup]  [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

Sneaking in for 3 free days at the '09 GP was a whole lotta fun too!   ;D







[bacon]

Quote from: RAT900 on July 14, 2010, 09:24:27 PM
make the beast with two backs the beer stuff!!..........You make the beast with two backsing scored Tinkerbell??....that icon of magical delicate and fragile beauty and innocence??  

you are my make the beast with two backsing Hero!!  Did you boink her "in-costume"?

This is wonderful.... [clap] [clap] [clap]

I am here on my other (work) PC trying to write something meaningful about architecting the foundation infrastructure for Unified Communications migration strategies...

and here you are sharing about getting wasted and having Tinkerbell in your hands...guess which one is more important??

oh yes there is a make the beast with two backsing god...please please phots with narrative

+1

Naughty thoughts abound....

Quote from: RAT900 on July 14, 2010, 09:24:27 PM
make the beast with two backs the beer stuff!!..........You make the beast with two backsing scored Tinkerbell??....that icon of magical delicate and fragile beauty and innocence?? 

you are my make the beast with two backsing Hero!!  Did you boink her "in-costume"?

This is wonderful.... [clap] [clap] [clap]

I am here on my other (work) PC trying to write something meaningful about architecting the foundation infrastructure for Unified Communications migration strategies...

and here you are sharing about getting wasted and having Tinkerbell in your hands...guess which one is more important??

oh yes there is a make the beast with two backsing god...please please phots with narrative

Clap if you believe.

[clap] [clap] [clap] [clap] [clap] [clap] [clap] [clap] [clap] [clap]

Quote from: SacDuc on July 14, 2010, 06:41:30 PM
/did everyone know that they serve beer at Chuck E Cheese?
//and that you don't actually need to have a kid with you to be there?
///and that they don't really seem to have a protocol for dealing with two drunks who won't stop hogging the basketball game?
////and that I love my brother deeply for saying, "Hell yeah!" when I spotted said Chuck E Cheese on the way to the next bar and suggested we stop?

Yeah, I figured that out when I was home from college one summer. I think I was 19 or 20. My nice NJ License (of course my address on it was a strip club in Newark) worked brilliantly.

I think a pitcher of bud light or miller lite was seriously only 4$. It was great.


I do recall talking shit about skeetball to some little kid, but that is to be expected.

Reason I was there:

was with a girl I was trying to hook up with and she had to babysit last minute.

Needless to say.......I was unsuccessful.

Heehee....JudDddd went to Chuck E. Cheese....to score.  [cheeky]

Quote from: Speedbag on July 15, 2010, 07:56:18 AM
Heehee....JudDddd went to Chuck E. Cheese....to score.  [cheeky]

That wasn't the original plan for the night, but that is what it turned in to.........


but yeah, ok..............I ended up at Chuck e Cheese in an attempt to score, got drunk off cheap beer and talked shit to a 9 year old.


Life doesn't get much more pathetic than that.

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 15, 2010, 08:49:14 AM
That wasn't the original plan for the night, but that is what it turned in to.........


but yeah, ok..............I ended up at Chuck e Cheese in an attempt to score, got drunk off cheap beer and talked shit to a 9 year old.


Life doesn't get much more pathetic than that.

All would have been redeemed with sex in the ball crawl, but alas, you fail.

sac


/why are the whack-a-mole and joystick jokes not on the tip of my tongue?
//I'm slipping

Quote from: SacDuc on July 15, 2010, 08:56:09 AM


All would have been redeemed with sex in the ball crawl, but alas, you fail.

sac


/why are the whack-a-mole and joystick jokes not on the tip of my tongue?
//I'm slipping

I think the ball crawl's were removed by that point in time. Also, I am sort of a germ a phobe and that ball pit is a breeding ground of fecal material and urine.



bwaaaaaaaaaaa

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 15, 2010, 09:11:06 AM
I think the ball crawl's were removed by that point in time. Also, I am sort of a germ a phobe and that ball pit is a breeding ground of fecal material and urine.



bwaaaaaaaaaaa

why?

doesn't everyone like poo on their balls?

Quote from: ducatiz on July 15, 2010, 09:11:55 AM
why?

doesn't everyone like poo on their balls?

How did I figure you'd chime in?

I personally don't.

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 15, 2010, 09:18:31 AM
How did I figure you'd chime in?

I personally don't.

Whats worse, poo on the balls or breast feeding?

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 15, 2010, 09:18:31 AM
How did I figure you'd chime in?

I personally don't.

so i guess you get all mad when you get a cleveland steamer

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 15, 2010, 08:49:14 AM
but yeah, ok..............I ended up at Chuck e Cheese in an attempt to score, got drunk off cheap beer and talked shit to a 9 year old.

No more giving Randall shit about Wal Mart!!  [laugh]

Quote from: rgramjet on July 15, 2010, 09:25:53 AM
Whats worse, poo on the balls or breast feeding?

Different arguments for both exist.

I'd get into my detail of the two, but it would be completely worthless and most importantly.......boring as all hell.

Quote from: ducatiz on July 15, 2010, 09:29:52 AM
so i guess you get all mad when you get a cleveland steamer

Yes, you know how I love someone shitting on my stomach.............you should know, you did proposition me once for that.

Quote from: Triple J on July 15, 2010, 09:30:53 AM
No more giving Randall shit about Wal Mart!!  [laugh]

Incorrect good sir.

The girl and I had plans. I knew her. They just got changed.

Randal claims to have picked the chicks up at Walmart.

Henceforth, to make the story the same, I would have gone to Chuck e Cheese alone (creeeepppyyyy) and met some girls.


However, I believe Randall's story was proved to be false based on photo evidence he supplied.

It's a long one but worth it.
    The story of how metallimonster blacked out 3 times in one day otherwise known as the craziest day of my life. 
   For those of you who do not know, Athens Ohio is a small college down nestled in the Hocking Hills area of the South East part of the state near WV (close to Double Eagle).  It's a stunningly beautiful campus surrounded by hill covered trees and a small river.  Like many other small college towns there is not much to do but drink and drinking is what Athens does best.  There are 23 bars on two blocks downtown and just about nothing else other than the school and a movie theatre. 
     Every May there is a block party called Palmer Fest known for huge parties and rowdy crowds.  3 years ago I was abruptly woken up from my previous nights drunken slumber by a large pitcher of ice cold water (I was sleeping on a couch outside) and my friends telling me it was time to start Palmer  fest.  Sometimes we get beautiful weather in May in Ohio and this was one of those days.  Sunny and mid 80s so we knew there was going to be some good “sightseeing”.   At 7:30 am we started playing beer pong with cherry bombs instead of beer by 10:30 myself and 5 friends had blacked out and after destroying a desk we found down the street, passed out for a “nap”.  Round one went to Vodka.
     A bunch more of our friends showed up around 1:30, woke us up and we all grilled out while playing cornhole.  I was actually feeling pretty good at this point so we started hitting the cherry bombs again.  Feeling pretty good we decided to head over to Palmer Fest.  As we left the house we noticed the neighbors (including the craziest dude I've ever met who went by Wilson) in a group at different house across the street. Turns out someone dared Wilson to take a shit in the yard which he promptly walked across the street and dropped a HUGE loaf right by the porch.  We couldn't believe what we were seeing and while we were dying laughing the shit lawns occupant (who was a BIG dude) came storming out yelling at Wilson.  Bad idea.  Wilson (sans shorts) wasted no time in repeatedly punching the guy in the face screaming “I'm Wilson I can do whatever the make the beast with two backs I want”.  Seriously crazy dude.  We booked it out of there before the cops came and headed 2 streets over to Palmer.    This is where shit got crazy. 
       We had a friend who lived in a big 2 story house right in the middle of Palmer that was having multiple kegs.  By the time we got there the sidewalks and houses were all packed (for some reason the city doesn't shut down the street) and there were hot girls wearing basically nothing EVERYWHERE.  Athens has to have the hottest girls in Ohio hands down.  As we started pounding keg beer, my buddy surprised us all by pulling a water balloon launcher out of his bookbag.  We proceeded to nail (or try to nail) every hot girl we saw with water balloons off the balcony.  We must have gone through 500 balloons and I can't begin to describe how much fun we had pissing girls (and their boyfriends) off. This also kicked off a street long water gun/balloon fight.  During the middle of the balloon barrage a dude with his family in the car decided to drive down Palmer and was being a dick to people in the street by honking and getting close to hitting them.  My buddy took aim and nailed the c pillar drenching the dude's kids in the back seat.  The guy slammed on the breaks and got out of the car screaming at us (which we thought was even more hilarious) which left him open to about 100 people with squirt guns and a hose.  Needless to say we ruined his day along with a lot of other peoples.  Yeah we were dicks but we were having the time of our lives.  I really don't have the ability to stop drinking when I start so by 6 or so I was blacked out again.  My friend followed me as I went into a bedroom and proceeded to piss out a window which I didn't realize (or probably care) was overtop a huge group of people waiting for kegs.  Luckily for me squirt guns and hoses masked my piss or I would have gotten a beat down.  I then crawled under a futon to pass out.  Round 2 goes to beer
    If you've never blacked out before, the worst part is waking up and not knowing where the make the beast with two backs you are.  I came to around 9 still drunk and managed to stumble back home where half of my friends were passed out again.  I got a little payback with cold water and we ordered pizza.  I should have just went back to sleep but the pizza sobered us up and we decided to hit the bars, specifically the Junction home of the infamous Junction Punch or as we liked to call it black out juice.  Junction Punch is a wonderfully tasty drink in a red plastic cup consisting of 4 types of liquor a splash of grenadine and a squirt of sprite.  At $2.25 a piece, one will get you buzzed,2 drunk, and 3 blacked out.  I'm sure I had more than 3 but can't remember because I once again blacked out around midnight.   While at the Junction I took my shirt off (I'm not the fittest dude), pissed in a corner (see a pattern?), and got in a fight with the juke box.  My friend loves to tell the story of me throwing elbows and knees at it.  Needless to say I got kicked out.  I was off and going before my friends could get to me.  Next thing I know I'm waking up in a graveyard at 4 in the morning- across town.  Round 3 goes to Junction Punch.  My friends were relieved when I stumbled through the door.

     I've had many crazy stories but not one 24 hour period where so much crazy random shit happened. 

Thank you for getting this thread back on track.


This is awesome:

Quote from: metallimonster on July 15, 2010, 10:51:27 AM
  We proceeded to nail (or try to nail) every hot girl we saw . . .

This is an awesome piece of poor (great?) decision making:

Quote from: metallimonster on July 15, 2010, 10:51:27 AM
  We proceeded to nail (or try to nail) every hot girl we saw with water balloons off the balcony.

Kudos to you sir!   [clap]


sac

It was awesome.  We had at least 5 guys try and come up the stairs to fight us but they were all talk because we had like 20 dudes on the balcony.   [laugh]

 [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]


that's a great story, Jay.



I once had to zip up the back of a dress on a drag queen. I don't think we need to get into the details of how awkward I felt after this. Meanwhile, my wife is just sitting back at the bar laughing her ass off trying to get a picture of it.

I believe the exact words out his mouth were "Hey Honey, can you zip me up, sweetie?"



back on to Jay's story

(http://img69.imageshack.us/img69/8788/kittenlovethisthreadzh8.jpg)

Quote from: metallimonster on July 15, 2010, 10:51:27 AM
It's a long one but worth it.
    The story of how metallimonster blacked out 3 times in one day otherwise known as the craziest day of my life. 
   

This is some premium-grade debauchery... [thumbsup] [thumbsup]

I used to call the blackouts magical mystery tours...

my younger brother wanted a miners cap with a minicam (where the lamp would have been)

to record his lost moments for morning-after replay

Unfortunately I have a lot of blackout stories.  Some good some really really bad.

I really do not have an off switch when it comes to drinking.  2 is my limit if I want to stay sober if I have more than 2 it turns into 20.

A lot of the stuff I've done blacked out I'm glad I don't remember. 

Quote from: RAT900 on July 15, 2010, 11:22:56 AM
my younger brother wanted a miners cap with a minicam (where the lamp would have been)

to record his lost moments for morning-after replay

www.gopro.com (//http://)

Not my best story but it was a pretty good time nonetheless.

Back in the 90's I used to be a Naval Aircrewman and we flew C-130's all over the place providing logistical support to the fleet. Just about anything you could think of to put in the airplane we would take it. Somewhere. It was a pretty cool Job. On occasion I got a call at home from the Ops department asking me if I wanted to go to Puerto Rico. Naturally I said yes. So a couple of days later we are heading to Puerto Rico via Oceania Virgina. I can remember wondering why they didn't send one of the east coast squadrons to do this, but what did I care, I was going to Puerto Rico.

Two days later we are getting ready to leave the island, and we had been briefed that in addition to our 4 pallets of cargo we had two passengers. When The preflights were done and the Cargo loaded it became time of our 13:00 departure and there were no passengers. After we had three engines started the Pilot looked over at a nearby hanger and noticed a couple of sailors standing over there and told me to go find out if those were our guys. So finding out that they were, and they were about to get left, and they were holding up the pre taxi check list, namely 1.Doors secured,
2. Seat belts fastened...All) I got them on board and situated.  

So after we finished the after takeoff checklist, the flight crew had a discussion over our headsets about who the two knuckle heads were and what their malfunction was. We had them sitting by the back ramp door because the rest of the cargo compartment was filled with pallets, they of course had no Idea they were the topic of discussion. So after a while the Loadmaster and I were kicking it on top of one of the pallets about 2 feet from the ceiling when we had this bright Idea. We let the flight deck crew know that were were going to conduct a ditching drill with our two passengers. It's been a long time now so I can't remember all the details of ditching but we went and got the "Gumby suits" and 4 parachutes and came scrambling down off the cargo into the area where these guys were and announced that we were going to have to ditch in the Atlantic at night.

One guys eyes got as big as saucers as we explained how we were going to put this stuff on and when we got to 10,000 we would open the doors and jump out. The other guys face actually had excitement written all over it. It took us just over 5 minutes to get everybody in the orange anti exposure suits and get the parachutes on. One of us gave the brief about the decent to 10,000 feet so that the doors could be opened, and the jumping, and the water landing, the releasing of the parachute once in the water, and all that good stuff. We could only play that out so far before we had to tell them it was a training exercise. The Saucer eyed guy looked relieved and the other one looked disappointed.

A couple hours later we dropped them and the cargo off, and after putting the plane to bed so to speak, we got shuttled off to the Motel.

We were due back In Santa Clara the next day so we set off on the 8 hour flight back to Moffet Field. The Hercs are slow so things take a while. Just about 7 hours in to the flight the Flight Engineer says were losing oil quantity on number 2 pretty fast.  So fast in fact that a few seconds later they did the in flight engine shutdown. They had me and the LM look out to check out the engine to see if there was a fire or anything and I reported that the feathered prop was still rotating, something that it is not supposed to do. This can potentially be a real bad deal because an engine fire could result which in turn could cause the wing falling off light to come on in the flight station.
(there is no such light but you get the idea) The reduction gear box has a propeller brake that is supposed to stop the engine from rotating in flight in the prop feathered condition. It wasn't working.

So we had that, in addition to one out. An emergency was declared and we got vectors to Nellis AFB just 50 miles away. After two go arounds we landed the plane with out further incident and check out the engine. The first thing we looked at was the actual oil quantity there were only 4 gallons in the 12 gallon tank and it was the color of silver paint. Hmmm..So one of the pilots called the squadron to tell them we were broke down in Las Vegas and to send a rescue plane. After discovering that there was no place to stay on base we were forced to get rental cars and hotel rooms down town.....in Las Vegas...at government expense. It was just terrible I tell you, just terrible.
Of course we had a pretty good time. I would have liked to stay longer but the following afternoon they sent another plane with an engine and maintenance crew and took us back to Moffet.
Anyway it was a pretty good time all in all.





(Note: I used a little license here combining two separate missions into one, but aside from that the story is true)

Why do they drop to 10k feet before jumping? I remember when I went sky diving we would jump around 14,500'?



(that's a great story about the two sailors. That is make the beast with two backsing great.)

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 15, 2010, 10:01:47 AM
Yes, you know how I love someone shitting on my stomach.............you should know, you did proposition me once for that.

I just wanted to get at the front of the line -- I'm not the only one who'd like to poop on you..  [laugh]   [drink]

Quote from: ducatiz on July 15, 2010, 12:10:32 PM
I just wanted to get at the front of the line -- I'm not the only one who'd like to poop on you..  [laugh]   [drink]

You are always at the front of the line.

I've already seen more of you then I ever care to in my life. Learn to operate a mobile phone dickhead.

Go reread the board rules. All poop fetish talk must happen over PM. Sorry, thems the rules.

sac

Quote from: SacDuc on July 15, 2010, 12:14:16 PM

Go reread the board rules. All poop fetish talk must happen over PM. Sorry, thems the rules.

sac

I don't understand the rules.

They were written by an attorney, so they aren't supposed to make sense.

The only rule I know is this:

Moderators have final say on all rules and disciplinary action. Therefore, even if it is in the rules or not in the rules, you still get slapped.


How about you go spill another bottle of wine on yourself?

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 15, 2010, 12:18:06 PM
I don't understand the rules.

They were written by an attorney, so they aren't supposed to make sense.

The only rule I know is this:

Moderators have final say on all rules and disciplinary action. Therefore, even if it is in the rules or not in the rules, you still get slapped.


How about you go spill another bottle of wine on yourself?

No. I need to seek another mountain to climb. Any suggestions? You know, one's that don't involve poop.


sac

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 15, 2010, 12:18:06 PM
I don't understand the rules.

They were written by an attorney, so they aren't supposed to make sense.

The only rule I know is this:

Moderators have final say on all rules and disciplinary action. Therefore, even if it is in the rules or not in the rules, you still get slapped.


How about you go spill another bottle of wine on yourself?

How bout you stop jacking and actively trying to get this awesome thread locked?

Quote from: RAT900 on July 14, 2010, 09:24:27 PM
make the beast with two backs the beer stuff!!..........You make the beast with two backsing scored Tinkerbell??....that icon of magical delicate and fragile beauty and innocence??  

and here you are sharing about getting wasted and having Tinkerbell in your hands...guess which one is more important??

Quote from: SacDuc on July 14, 2010, 09:27:01 PM
Um, dude? This is the story thread. You don't just say you dated Tinker Bell and leave it at that. How make the beast with two backsing dare you! Now make with the story about the first time she brought the costume home.

Well to be honest there isn't a whole ton to tell about that, because as much as one would like to think that Tinker Bell is an absolute minx in the sack, she was actually one of the most wholesome girls I've ever met.  She was a looker though, but never did bring out the Tink costume for the bedroom.

But I did teach her how to drink.  She was not a big drinker at the time so I made her a variety of drinks, and she eventually started to like a few.  We got in to the parks for free of course, real special treatment everywhere we wen't cause her position came with privileges.  She would get recognized by children even when she wasn't in costume, so she had to be prepared to get into character real quick sometimes.  

On one occasion, after downing a few martinis, we were spotted at a restaurant by a 5 year old girl in a princess outfit who yelled, "It's Tinkerbell!"  So she knelt down and slurred out, "Herro leittle gurrll, haow argh yoo dis evuning?"  Disney World can be such a magical place sometimes.

My moment of childhood innocence thievery came at Animal Kingdom, hanging with Tinkerbell, and she was talking to a couple little kids.  I was drunk off my ass, and getting impatient, so I said, "Hey Tink, I'm gonna go take a leak, don't go anywhere."  I think one kid started to cry.

Quote from: NoisyDante on July 15, 2010, 12:41:09 PM
Well to be honest there isn't a whole ton to tell about that, because as much as one would like to think that Tinker Bell is an absolute minx in the sack, she was actually one of the most wholesome girls I've ever met.  She was a looker though, but never did bring out the Tink costume for the bedroom.

But I did teach her how to drink.  She was not a big drinker at the time so I made her a variety of drinks, and she eventually started to like a few.  

agggghhhh of COURSE she was wholesome....they all start out that way...the more wholesome the better....your job was to make that a past-tense thing....holy make the beast with two backsing jeebus...ply them with alcohol laced with sweet mixers

and approach it like Michelangelo approached a block of marble....the true statue is trapped inside the stone...your job was to chip away the unnecessary chunks of morality and resistance in order that the full cum-belching demon harlot within,, could emerge into the light...

and then you could properly immortalize the piece by sharing with us the agony and the ecstasy (hers)

Dante...Dante...Dante...

Quote from: RAT900 on July 15, 2010, 01:25:17 PM
Dante...Dante...Dante...

What you say is true, and I know what you're thinking . . .


(http://blogs.houstonpress.com/hairballs/royal-fail.jpg)


Gave it a shot, ultimately moved on to some other lovely ladies, but we're still good friends.  I recently helped her and her younger brother move out here to Los Angeles.  Reminds me, maybe I should give her a call . . .

Quote from: SacDuc on July 15, 2010, 12:21:13 PM

No. I need to seek another mountain to climb. Any suggestions? You know, one's that don't involve poop.
sac

Gregor(mac)(sinister) and I are thinking about climbing Mt Hood or Rainer in Washington. Want to come? We were thinking this winter. I am sure some stories would come from that disastrous adventure

Quote from: El Matador on July 15, 2010, 12:25:40 PM
How bout you stop jacking and actively trying to get this awesome thread locked?

I was joking with the originator poster of this thread.


Post up a story. I've posted several. Not all have been glamorous or remotely normal (seriously, who gets asked to zip up a drag queens dress?), but that is what life is about. Crazy, weird, odd shit that makes it go round and worthwhile.

I'm going to now go ride a wheelie down my condo street. That should create a story of either me looping the bike or getting in trouble with the condo association and receiving a "fine."

yeehaw

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 15, 2010, 01:46:23 PM
Gregor(mac)(sinister) and I are thinking about climbing Mt Hood or Rainer in Washington. Want to come? We were thinking this winter. I am sure some stories would come from that disastrous adventure


I was joking with the originator poster of this thread.


Post up a story. I've posted several. Not all have been glamorous or remotely normal (seriously, who gets asked to zip up a drag queens dress?), but that is what life is about. Crazy, weird, odd shit that makes it go round and worthwhile.

I'm going to now go ride a wheelie down my condo street. That should create a story of either me looping the bike or getting in trouble with the condo association and receiving a "fine."

yeehaw

I've posted two already  :-* :-*

Quote from: RAT900 on July 15, 2010, 01:25:17 PM

agggghhhh of COURSE she was wholesome....they all start out that way...the more wholesome the better....your job was to make that a past-tense thing....holy make the beast with two backsing jeebus...ply them with alcohol laced with sweet mixers

and approach it like Michelangelo approached a block of marble....the true statue is trapped inside the stone...your job was to chip away the unnecessary chunks of morality and resistance in order that the full cum-belching demon harlot within,, could emerge into the light...

and then you could properly immortalize the piece by sharing with us the agony and the ecstasy (hers)

Dante...Dante...Dante...

this boys and girls is why so many relationships end in agony

through the use of alcohol, stimulants, peer pressure, and sexual debauchery

we turn little whoelsome tinkerbell into Sheena-the-cock-hopping-whip-wielding-queen-of-deviant-dicknastics

and

then wonder why after a new set of boobs we see her swinging away on the BBD



for shame RAT, do not encourage the children

Quote from: Mother on July 15, 2010, 01:51:25 PM
for shame RAT, do not encourage the children

I'm sure he was joking.

And she's still as wholesome as when I met her, her parents take me out to dinner when they visit her out here.

Wholesome or holesome?  >ducking<

Quote from: ducatiz on July 15, 2010, 03:09:29 PM
Wholesome or holesome?  >ducking<

http://instantrimshot.com/ (http://instantrimshot.com/)

Quote from: NoisyDante on July 15, 2010, 03:00:21 PM
I'm sure he was joking.

And she's still as wholesome as when I met her, her parents take me out to dinner when they visit her out here.

Two things:

1) Rat was most assuredly NOT joking. At all.

2) I just realized something. You never actually slept with her did you? No. You didn't. And that is sad. Here's why: she was make the beast with two backsing another guy. Probably not a bunch of other guys, but you were only half of a boyfriend. If you weren't getting some a few times a week then I damn well guarantee she was sleeping with someone else. Do you know why her mother still talks to you? Because she's met that other dude her daughter was make the beast with two backsing. She doesn't like him. Because he is bad. And you are good. And that is why Tinker Bell sleeps with him and his ilk, because she is a good girl and sex is something bad people do. Since she's good she has a nice wholesome relationship with a nice guy, you. But she is biologically wired to want to get laid. Since the good girl doesn't do that she must create a bad girl who goes and finds a bad boy. Its called compartmentalization. Horny girls are masters of it.

sac


/I bet she was banging Peter Pan
//plus if you were banging her you would have said so . . . loudly

I'm banging sac

I dress him up like deputy dawg

rawr

Quote from: Mother on July 15, 2010, 05:16:45 PM
I'm banging sac

I dress him up like deputy dawg

rawr

Ahem. Post a friggin' story already. You're an EMT, you must have a story about bringing a dead guy back to life or a popped boob implant or something.

sac



/and you could call me just to talk once and a while instead of just when you're drunk and want to get in my pants!  :'(

Quote from: Mother on July 15, 2010, 05:16:45 PM
I'm banging sac

I dress him up like deputy dawg

rawr

How does the soon to be wifey feel about this?

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 15, 2010, 05:30:38 PM
How does the soon to be wifey feel about this?

He knows who his sugar momma is. He can play with his floozies if he likes but he'll always come home to me.  ;D

It was my 18th birthday and a friend and I went to Columbus , Ohio to Celebrate. Back in the day at age 18 you could drink 3.2% beer in Ohio vs 6% when you were 21 and could drink real Liquor.

I was driving a 1964 Ford Galaxie ,289 cu.in., 3 on the tree , bare stock 2 door that was my Dad's car.

As my friend and I were headed up N. High ST. towards OSU and the Bars across from the Campus I noticed a Corvette pullout from the left,  N. High St. was 4 lanes and the Corvette was right next to me.

We ended up stopped at the next Traffic light next to each other and I couldn't resist a drag race so when the light turned green I floored it and so did the 'Vette.

About 1/2 a block later I notice in my rear view mirror flashing lights.

Oh shit, the Cops, what to do , the 'Vette went straight and I turned at the 1st street to the right.

I hoped the Cop would follow the "vette but as soon as I got on the side street I turned into some body's drive, and told my friend to run for it. I went right right , they went another way.

I soon found a big bush and promptly crawled into it out of site.

Well, it wasn't long before I could hear Cops talking all around me.

I stayed in that bush for what seemed to be an hour.

I didn't hear anything so I crawled out and started to walk back to where my car was parked.

About that same time my friend comes walking around the corner of a garage and then..... womp......about 4 squad cars and a paddy wagon ascend on us and police w, guns drawn.

Of course I'm scared shitless and so is my friend. The Cops want to know if that car belongs to one of us and I say yes and then was I drag racing the Corvette and I say no and of course the Cop doesn't believe me .

Then he wants to know where I have been and why I fled the scene if I had done nothing wrong . I told the Cops that since I was from out of town my friend and I were afraid when we saw the flashing lights and it was stupid but we panicked and hid.

After much consternation and threats by the Cops they finally said if we got in the car and left town immediately they would not ticket me.

So I said sure.

The Cops left and I got in the car w, my friend and as we were driving down N. High St. it was decided that we didn't come all the way to Columbus just to turn around and go home.

So I went left a couple of Streets over until I hit a one way North Street and went all the way above Campus and then went over to N. High St. and came back down to  the Char Bar and we drank beer for a several hours and then sneaked our way out of Columbus.  

Sure got away w, one that night !

Quote from: SacDuc on July 15, 2010, 04:28:17 PM
1) Rat was most assuredly NOT joking. At all.

No. I don't expect he was.

Quote from: SacDuc on July 15, 2010, 04:28:17 PM
2) I just realized something. You never actually slept with her did you? No. You didn't. And that is sad.

One does not date Tinkerbell and fail to seal the deal, so rest assured, I did indeed sleep with Tinkerbell, just not in a manner that is degrading.  It doesn't make a good story cause there wasn't anything abnormal about it.

Quote from: SacDuc on July 15, 2010, 04:28:17 PM
/I bet she was banging Peter Pan

Nope, just me.

Quote from: SacDuc on July 15, 2010, 04:28:17 PM
//plus if you were banging her you would have said so . . . loudly

I BANGED TINK!


Your posts really make me laugh Sac  [laugh]

Quote from: DoubleEagle on July 15, 2010, 06:18:02 PM
Sure got away w, one that night !

Yea, I don't imagine running from the cops would end up the same way today as it did for you guys then.  Lucky.

I was stationed at Ft Lewis in 1986, in 2/77 Armor. When we went to the field for gunnery, we went to (then called) Yakima Firing Center. At that time 2/77 Armor was the last unit on active duty to have M60A1 tanks, they had no thermal sights, just passive IR & white light/IR searchlights. So for night gunnery, there had to be one tank detailed to the range to act as the search light tank. This was very boring duty, because you had to wait for the firing tank to get ready for that run and then illuminate the same set of targets over and over again for each tank. This went on until daylight. Usually the searchlight crew would fall asleep a few times during the night and have to be awoken, by either screaming over the control radio net, or worse case shut down the range and drive out there and wake the poor sob's up.

So there I was on searchlight detail, I was the acting gunner, Sgt. Brooks was the TC, and I can't remember who actually was the driver. So we drive out to the search light point, set up the range card for the targets to be illuminated and waited for night to fall. At some point the driver took off his boots, which he had been wearing constantly for 3 days he told us. [puke] The stench about drove us out of the tank. We made him put his boots & socks outside. About then the range went hot and the first tank was about to start its run. The million candle-watt power searchlight required that the engine be revved up to 1500 RPM (the engine was an AVDS-1780 750 hp turbo diesel), so the driver revved up the engine, locked down the accelerator and promptly fell asleep.

About this time Sgt. Brooks taps me on the shoulder, and ask me if I want a hit of acid. He didn't say this over the intercom, I don't think he wanted to share with PFC Stinkyfeet. I figure "what the Hell?", so I say "Sure". Not much happened that first run, but as later tanks went down range the acid started to kick in. The light show we had that night was out-make the beast with two backsing-standing.
:o [thumbsup] [laugh]

Main gun rounds are always tracers, and mg ammo for training was 1 tracer in 5 rounds. We laughed are asses off at every shot. Main gun rounds were fantastic, and mg engagements were even better as the fan of tracers arced through the night until they burned out. We hurried to train the searchlight with meticulous precision on the next target and waited for the fun to begin again. We took turns acting as the gunner and answering the tower commands on the control net. We about died laughing when the poor bastard running the moving target fell asleep and they woke him up by firing a round into the berm above his bunker. :o We could hear him snoring over the radio 'cause he fell asleep with his mike open.  [roll]

Just as dawn was approaching we came down, and the last tank finished its run. We woke up the driver, he put his aired out boots back on and we drove back to the tower. The Range NCO & Master Gunner met us and thanked us for the outstanding job we did as the searchlight tank, we never missed a target and were always ready on time, never fell asleep. "Best searchlight detail we've had." they said.

Quote from: NoisyDante on July 15, 2010, 09:00:05 PM
No. I don't expect he was.



I BANGED TINK!

[clap] [clap] [clap]  OK you said she's in your zone of operations...you could go see if she has learned anything new , kept her Tink gear, and determine if she needs advanced training

Speaking of wholesome...after my divorce at age 35 I wound up with a waitress/student a little more than half my age...cute as a button with a posterior that was bewildering in its beauty. Very straight up and poised...no overt tip-generating attire

After over a decade with a sexually inert wife, the split was like the best gift I ever got....I was like a kid again on Christmas morning seeing everything I ever wanted under the tree with my name on the tag...

anyway I took her with me on a business/pleasure trip to Cali after a few dates....Wine Country/Calistoga Spa/...B&B in Bodega Bay, Half Moon Bay by Santa Cruz then back to Santa Clara where my business stuff was waiting

I discovered that she was like Dante's Tink..... until she got a few drinks in her....

3 drinks and she was on the express elevator to the sub-basement.....

to my surprise she was in fact transformed into the Shrieking Demon Harlot of Sodom and Gomorrah....she did vile things to me that will not be discussed as I don't want to turn this into a pornography writing exercise.

So there I am after the full unvarnished/unbridled sexual monster is unleashed and (finally) satiated in bed next to me and I am wondering...

who the hell trained her at such a tender young age (she wasn't from West Virginia)

Do I ever want to kiss that mouth again

Should I have gotten a full CDC report on her for communicables

and of course...pondering ...hmmmm who's working who? on this adventure

as I am mulling over these thoughts in the afterglow she gets out of bed

kneels next to the bed, blesses herself and starts saying her bedtime prayers....

holy make the beast with two backs I now have Disney's Pollyanna kneeling and praying next to the bed

now I am really confused...and I ask her...what are you doing?

she says "saying my prayers"

I say "to who?" (just checking to see which direction she was sending them in)

"To God and my Mom" (mom died when she was 12)

I reply "I don't think God has been around here for a few hours now, we probably scared him off"

"No matter, he sees all and knows all"

"I think you may have shown him a few new things he doesn't see in church"

talk about compartmentalization

blesses herself again and hops back into bed...does a little body shiver of delight and goes to sleep

I slept poorly with one eye open that night

wondering if a third identity was going to emerge while I was asleep

to complete some sort of ritual...maybe the "avenging mom" persona or something

^^^ As always, truly awesome.  [bow_down]

Quote from: RAT900 on July 15, 2010, 09:51:15 PM
[clap] [clap] [clap] 
I discovered that she was like Dante's Tink..... until she got a few drinks in her....3 drinks and she was on the express elevator to the sub-basement.....


I slept poorly with one eye open that night

[laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

Just goes to show you......you never can tell !

Dolph      [evil]

Rat,

Why is it that the hot ones that are ridiculous in bed are always bat shit crazy?  If I could just find one that was like that and somewhat normal I'd be a happy man.

Double,

No way you get out of that on campus now days.  They taze people for looking funny now.

Krolik, I'm jealous.  Sounds almost as good as tripping at Bonnaroo while watching the Flamming Lips.

This thread makes a workday bearable.  [bow_down]

then there is the time I snuck into the captain's cabin and put stretch film across his toilet seat........the result? One pissed off captain with shit all over the place. [laugh]

Quote from: The Happy Pip on July 16, 2010, 03:54:34 AM
This thread makes a workday bearable.  [bow_down]

+1 to that.




By the way..............if you ever decide to go cowtipping...........make sure there is no bull in the same field  [roll]


I think I ran the 100m in less than 5 seconds

Ouch... Lsd in food counts as a murder attempt in some jurisdictions... Aggravated assault in others....

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 16, 2010, 04:20:15 AM
By the way..............if you ever decide to go cowtipping...........make sure there is no bull in the same field  [roll]

Growing up in Southern Ohio I've been chased by more than a few bulls. Worse is farmers shooting rock salt shells.  I've never been hit but it's been close a few times. [evil]

So about a year ago, there was a vacant cube across from mine. We have these windows between them on one side, but they are high enough up so that you aren't constantly staring or seeing the other.

Well, the AP Department which I used to sort of manage (I was the supervisor and then the manager got fired, so I assumed manager role for about 7 months before a replacement was hired. I like it to be known as my rein of unsupervised management; I tell you what........you leave people alone, they get a lot of work done). So alas, they hire a Manager, promote someone to supervisor and I created my own department that I am in now, which happens to be located in the same cube bank as AP.

so one day this douchebag looking male temp shows up. He is really quiet, but seemed to get along with everyone. Of course sitting on the otherside of the wall, I never talked to this kid that much.

I was walking by one day (to get from the copier to my cube you walk by that cube and can see the computer screen) and saw this moron streaming audio or trying to. That is the quickest way to get canned at this company is to pull a lot of bandwidth because we are cheapasses and don't buy enough as is.

Well, cruising the DMF that day I see this odd post about streaming audio at work.......................saying he got a temp job doing AP work and the network was locked down and he couldn't stream audio, blah blah blah.


Well...............everyone meet Metallimonster........


[laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]


Things don't get more random then that.

I am a total douche.  But your the King Douche! [evil]


Seriously, it was very random to share a wall with someone on here and not know it.  I even knew who he was from pics of his Doberman on the wall.

And no, I don't work there anymore.  Thank God!

Quote from: metallimonster on July 16, 2010, 05:45:39 AM
And no, I don't work there anymore.  Thank God!

Lucky shit.


I'd have to say that ranks #2 of the most random meeting of someone.

the other one is more than bizzare.

Fall of 2002, I studied abroad in Cork, Ireland.

Spent the first 6 days in Ireland in Dublin of course. Three days by myself and then 3 days with the study abroad program before departing for Cork.

We were in some pub in the Temple Bar District and spot this hot blonde (clearly not Irish).

So I start chatting her up and come to find out............she grew up in South Bend (where I am from) and worked for my Dad for a few years.

I got creeped out at that point and left.


Again, not one of my brighter decisions in life because things were progressing nicely, but wasn't quite sure how to seal the deal in a 8 bed hostile room.

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 16, 2010, 05:52:44 AM
Lucky shit.


I'd have to say that ranks #2 of the most random meeting of someone.

the other one is more than bizzare.

Fall of 2002, I studied abroad in Cork, Ireland.

Spent the first 6 days in Ireland in Dublin of course. Three days by myself and then 3 days with the study abroad program before departing for Cork.

We were in some pub in the Temple Bar District and spot this hot blonde (clearly not Irish).

So I start chatting her up and come to find out............she grew up in South Bend (where I am from) and worked for my Dad for a few years.

I got creeped out at that point and left.


Again, not one of my brighter decisions in life because things were progressing nicely, but wasn't quite sure how to seal the deal in a 8 bed hostile room.

If the Hostel was hostile you could always enjoy the great outdoors or find a broom closet or something.

Priorities, man!

Quote from: alfisti on July 16, 2010, 05:57:18 AM
If the Hostel was hostile you could always enjoy the great outdoors or find a broom closet or something.
Priorities, man!

damn spell check.


[laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]


God damn that was one shitty hostel they put us up in.

Quote from: SacDuc on July 14, 2010, 06:44:48 PM


Catholic?

sac

no, pentacostal and southern baptist. we went baptist because the pentacostals were too restrictive.

when my dad was a deacon at the church we had a bonfire in our yard where people threw all sorts of stuff in there because it was inherently evil and would allow the devil to invade them and make them do bad things.

there were band shirts, albums (make the beast with two backser burnt one of the first run pressings of master of puppets [bang]), throwing stars, gambling devices like dice and cards, and other random objects that people felt had too much influence over them and were leading them down a dark path. strangely i don't recall anyone burning drug paraphenalia or booze. i guess that is ok.

Quote from: metallimonster on July 16, 2010, 03:53:53 AM
Rat,

Why is it that the hot ones that are ridiculous in bed are always bat shit crazy?  If I could just find one that was like that and somewhat normal I'd be a happy man.

yeah I don't have any good answers for that mystery of life...it is one of the core injustices of the human experience ....kind of like "why are the best foods always so damn fattening?"....

guess it boils down to the old saying "genius has baggage"....and in some case genius has luggage

and needs a team of skycaps

but boy they sure can travel in style in the sack

At my last assignment, there were two kinds of tractor-trailer trucks we used to pull our 25 and 40 foot Munitions flatbeds... The American-made Internationals, and the German-made MAN trucks... I preferred the MAN trucks for the neat gizmos and the (wrongly perceived, I'm sure) increased power. I'm licensed to transport munitions by up to 52 foot trailer all the way across Europe (an expensive license.... roughly £5,000), so a jaunt across base with 7 pallets (6 MK82 500lb General Purpose per pallet) on a 25 foot trailer would be a walk in the park, right? Yeah, I thought so.

My buddy Moore was tasked to accompany me as spotter on my little journey, so we went out to function check the truck on this misty, slightly cold weather that you find 10 out of 12 months in England... There was a slight sheen of dew on the road surface, which was soon destroyed by the Tokyo Drift-esque sideways sliding of two morons, 6 cylinders, one big turbo and ten tires. If you've never gotten slideways in an 18 wheeler, I propose you haven't really lived. Air-Ride seats make this experience even more exhilarating as you undulate up and down like a little bobber in a pond, while also enjoying the lateral movement of the loosed behemoth below you. (Moore spent a little time in the sleeper behind the seats as I did this, screaming like a girl the whole time) . After what seemed like an eternity spent giggling, we climbed out of the cab to make sure everything was ship-shape. Needless to say, it was. ;D We headed back through the Bomb Dump, to the shop to pick up the necessary safety gear. We were told we'd be picking up a the aforementioned explosive laden trailer on Able Row, which is an open storage pad built over an old WWII runway, with tight turns, and very little wiggle room for maneuvering. We arrived at the pad, backed the tractor up, and heard the satisfying "kah-thunk" as the kingpin engaged the hitch. OK then... get out, hook up the pneumatics for the brakes and the electrical cable for the lights, lift up trailer landing gear, and pull chocks. Check lights, release Parking Brake, and go. The next two sounds will echo in my head for the rest of my life. As we depart, we hear "BANG!", "WHAM!!!" 

What the ever-loving make the beast with two backs was that?!?!?   ??? ??? ???


Look in the rearview mirror to see the trailer laying firmly on its retracted landing gear, and all of the bombs had slid up, nose to tail, with a majority of the fuzewell covers visibly broken. Fourty-two 500lb bombs nut-to-butt, perched on a precariously angled trailer that was resting on two damaged landing gear stanchions, back wheels and butt in the air like a duck diving in a pond. Turns out the hitch height on a MAN truck is remotely adjustable, and had been remotely adjusted by someone who was being trained on the truck and not returned to the correct height. The truck moved, but the trailer didn't. Sheared all of the lines off of the back of the tractor, damaged a mudflap, and Like idiots, we left the radio in the shop, and the nearest Sarge was roughly 400 yards away. Ahhh... now I understand why we PT so much. I tell Moore (who was not a... uhh... small guy) to watch the truck, and if he sees anything unusual, to get the make the beast with two backs as far away from this trailer as he can. I take off full sprint, running like Forrest Gump out of Bryant-Denny stadium, finally arriving at the Sarge's location what felt like 30 minutes later. Told him what happened, and we returned to the scene. Sarge had the great idea to bring out a forklift and unload the muns off the trailer... good idea boss!

Sarge hops in the forklift, and proceeds to take the REARMOST pallet off of the truck. "Wait... Mitch, that's probably not a good idea, because it's holding the back of the trailer d..." POW!!!! No sooner had the pallet left the surface than the front of the trailer takes all of the weight (18,000lbs of bomb) of the front 6 pallets and goes all the way down onto the kingpin, roughly on a 45/50 degree angle. Well shit... now we're really buggered.

Eventually took 14 people, Two 22k forklifts and a giant road barrier to get this thing on a horizontal plane. Needless to say, I learned to ALWAYS, ALWAYS check kingpin to receiver height. [thumbsup]

That's my lame story. All true, no hyperbole.

Quote from: ducatiz on July 16, 2010, 04:30:25 AM
Ouch... Lsd in food counts as a murder attempt in some jurisdictions... Aggravated assault in others....

You must be fun at parties.   [cheeky]


(http://sidesalad.net/archives/DebbieDownerRachaelDratch.jpg)

Quote from: NoisyDante on July 15, 2010, 09:00:05 PM

Your posts really make me laugh Sac  [laugh]

This is the only reason I write on this board at all.

sac

Ignorant question here...............



If one of those bombs fell on the ground, would it have exploded or is there some sort of "detonator" that needs to be turned on first to make that 500lbs of fun hot?

I'd guess they need detonators installed (screwed into their nose?) before they'll detonate.

Those Debbie Downer skits are make the beast with two backsing hilarious.

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 15, 2010, 12:09:10 PM
Why do they drop to 10k feet before jumping?

Actually I have no Idea.
But for a bailout situation you are already at 10,000 or below and I guess the height give you time to make note of your location and the surrounding terrain on the way down.

My jump training consisted of how to put the thing on and how you are supposed to land after a Jump. It is kind of scary, the first time you would have to bail out would be the first jump I guess. They did train us to egress from a dragging chute in a pool though. How to get untangled in the water. stuff like that. Lots of good water training. The helicopter turning upside down in the water and then finding your way out the door with the blackout goggles is kind of cool.

Thought of another one.  Though the disclaimer is, should anyone be offended by my word choice, please refer to 'The F Word' episode of South Park.


I had just got hired at my job, and I had been at the studio for maybe 4 months.  I'm just starting to get comfortable with most people, but I still hadn't yet met every single person in the building.

One of my operations managers sent out an email to everyone, 'Has anyone seen the vault keys?'.  Another engineer, and a friend of mine at that point, answered, 'I bet Dante stole em!'.  I then replied to ALL, 'You would say something like that ya faaaaaaaaag.'  

Little did I know, Nick had replied to ALL, though I thought it was just a reply to the ops manager and myself, in which case it wouldn't have been a big deal.  I had to scroll down in the recipients menu to see that everyone would be getting it, but it was too late of course.  My mixing partner said a minute later, 'uhhhhhhh, you didn't mean to send that to all 70 employees, did you?'.

At the time, we were employing a woman who happened to be a lesbian, and a very sensitive one at that.

I received a very very nasty email from her, which was cc'd to all of my superiors, our upper chain of command, and human resources.  I of course begin sweating bullets, and thought my job was history.

I then called my one boss, asked him what do I do, apologize or what?  He said 'Act like it never happened.'  I then got a call from another boss of mine who was out that day, and got the emails on her blackberry.  She said 'Don't worry, you're protected, and we like you more than her anyway.'

I still laid low in my room for a bit, when I finally ventured out, I was met with laughter from every single person I encountered, for a solid month.  It was really a thing of legend, and it is still talked about 3 years later.  

And the next day, I went up to wine country with some friends, and was wearing a light pink button up shirt.  When I got back to LA I went to a bar and met up with my friend Nick, another mixer, and the boss who told me to act like it never happened.  When I walked into the bar, my boss says, 'That's a fag shirt.'

The lesbian has since quit and gone back to medical school, and this facility is one of the most un-PC places I've ever been in, it's great.  No one gives a shit what anyone says, no one gets offended, and best of all, after that little event, I realized I could never get fired here.  Ever.

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 16, 2010, 07:49:19 AM
If one of those bombs fell on the ground, would it have exploded or is there some sort of "detonator" that needs to be turned on first to make that 500lbs of fun hot?

Not ignorant at all. most people don't know how this stuff works.

Drop distance on a MK82 is ten feet. Anything more than that and EOD would have to be called in. These were without fuzes. Once a fuze is installed in either nose or tail well, the drop distance goes down to 3 feet. Had they been fuzed, the sliding of the bombs into each other would have been a MUCH MUCH bigger deal, and we all would have been exacuated to past the 4000ft mark.

I was offered to buy a midget tonight.








Still trying to figure out how to smuggle him back to the US...

Quote from: DanTheMan on July 16, 2010, 08:38:24 AM
I was offered to buy a midget tonight.








Still trying to figure out how to smuggle him back to the US...

wait...what?

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 16, 2010, 05:52:44 AM
Again, not one of my brighter decisions in life because things were progressing nicely, but wasn't quite sure how to seal the deal in a 8 bed hostile room.

wow.

you and i are completely different people.  when i was your age (and single) i would have just announced to everyone that there was to be a performance art sketch later and it was adult oriented.  and then proceeded to bang her on a table top with an audience.

Quote from: SacDuc on July 16, 2010, 07:23:19 AM
You must be fun at parties.   [cheeky]


(http://sidesalad.net/archives/DebbieDownerRachaelDratch.jpg)

oh, i am great fun, i just know the law and won't stick LSD in someone else's food!!

Quote from: ducatiz on July 16, 2010, 08:46:59 AM
oh, i am great fun, i just know the law and won't stick LSD in someone else's food!!

cuz it's a waste of good acid man
















(http://www.deviantpictures.com/trippinmovie/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/jim-breuer.jpg)

OK...NoisyDante'e last story (very funny  [thumbsup]) reminded me of a work related one.

My first engineering job out of college (~1996) was at a small civil/geotechnical engineering firm in Reno. It was a very un-PC place for sure...as an example, the office newb would have to make a beer run for the bosses everyday (their money thankfully) around a quarter to 5. On Fridays work essentially ceased at about 3, the office newb had to make a beer run for everyone, and the poker games and rowdiness ensued. Friday lunches at the adjacent sports bar often included buckets of beer to get things started.  [thumbsup]

So anyway, we had an older lady in accounting who was probably late 40s/early 50s. She was nice enough, but seemed a little crazy. Not shoot up the office nuts, but crazy in an awkward sort of way. I'll call her Jane, as I've since forgotten her real name.

About two weeks before our Christmas party a young female friend of mine in the office named Jonie got on the office loud speaker, which could be accessed through anyone's phone, and announced to the entire office that I was taking Jane to the Christmas party that year as my date. Everyone thought this was quite hilarious, including Jane, and for the next 2 weeks I was harassed by every single person in the office, pretty much all day. It was funny...especially if you weren't me! Everyone got in on it, including the company owner and my boss. I informed Jonie that she had done well, but that I would get her back...and it would be good.

Fast forward to the Christmas party, and the normal festivities occured. As usual, the company owner said the bar was only open until dinner was served...but by the time dinner was served he was hammered, and he left the bar open for the remainder of the night. BTW...don't ever give engineers (or accountants) an open bar...it can get ugly. Dancing, drinking, and a few party games kept the party going until 2-3 am.

Monday morning I roll into work, just now fully recovering from my hangover, and fire up the computer. Waiting for me is an an email from the guy who was in charge of taking pictures at the Christmas party. The email had the subject line: "You May Find This Interesting".  [thumbsup] Inside was a picture of our little prankster Jonie.  [evil] She was engaging in a game some employees (not me) had played where they had to place a basketball sized ball between their legs and attempt to walk across the dance floor...while ofcourse being drunk. What made the picture interesting was that she had hiked up her new dress a bit to do this, and unknown to her, had exposed the tops of her thigh-high stockings and the garter belt holding them up. If you zoomed in you may have been able to see the bottom of her undies as well...but we never confirmed this is what we were seeing for sure. It was a nice picture either way.  ;D

Well, this was my chance. I took the picture and made a Mastercard priceless ad with it, reading:

Fancy New Dress - $100
New Garter Belt and Stockings - $50
Flashing the Entire Office at the Christmas Party - Priceless

I then emailed it to a few people I knew I could trust in the office. Well, apparently I couldn't trust them, because in short order the entire office had a copy. It was legendary...everyone thought it was hilarious. To make it even better, Jonie was on vacation that entire week, so she wasn't there to limit the distribution. A few people even made it their computer desktop image.  [laugh]

The following Monday, Jonie returned to work at 8am as usual...confused as to why people were calling her "priceless". She was eventually shown my handywork. I was out drilling all day, so by the time I returned to the office she was eager to speak with me (to say the least)...and I was being warned by everyone I passed in the halls that Jonie was looking for me!  [laugh] Although embaressed, she laughed and took it in stride after I reminded her of my "date" to the party.  [thumbsup]

You hit that?

Quote from: metallimonster on July 16, 2010, 09:23:59 AM
You hit that?

[laugh]

I half-heartedly tried, but no.

Quote from: The Happy Pip on July 16, 2010, 08:31:52 AM
Not ignorant at all. most people don't know how this stuff works.

Drop distance on a MK82 is ten feet. Anything more than that and EOD would have to be called in. These were without fuzes. Once a fuze is installed in either nose or tail well, the drop distance goes down to 3 feet. Had they been fuzed, the sliding of the bombs into each other would have been a MUCH MUCH bigger deal, and we all would have been exacuated to past the 4000ft mark.

Ok, Mr Question again:

1. When you refer to drop distance is that any piece of the ordinance falling 10ft or a specific part (i.e. nose) hitting the ground? Edit: sounds like either the nose or the tail
2. What is EOD mean?


When do they get fused? Right before loading onto an aircraft or is there a steady supply of ready to go ordiance to keep up a certain "inventory level" if you will.

Quote from: ducatiz on July 16, 2010, 08:45:55 AM
wow.

you and i are completely different people.  when i was your age (and single) i would have just announced to everyone that there was to be a performance art sketch later and it was adult oriented.  and then proceeded to bang her on a table top with an audience.

Dude, I was trying to work (and successfully did) one of the girls in the program.

My chances of her would have been slim to none if I railed this Hoosier in a shitty hostel in Dublin.

Quote from: metallimonster on July 16, 2010, 09:23:59 AM
You hit that?

[laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

I gotta say..........I am a bit disappointed JJ didn't close the deal on the garter belt chick. Was she hot?

If she was wearing that attire to the party.........she was looking for some sausage.

Quote from: Mother on July 16, 2010, 08:55:04 AM
cuz it's a waste of good acid man

no. it's because that's not a challenge anymore. he just drops it straight into their mouth now.

A co-worker of mine sent this out to the entire company before I joined the studio.

(http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1OMiSrEJXnY/Rt1qCIfBNqI/AAAAAAAADoY/t7GKyUKjJOE/s400/Golf_Trophy.jpg)


Fortunately for him, he didn't add a caption, and the people who he was worried about offending did not get the joke.  He was able to say, "What?  This is just my favorite ladies golfer, everyone knows that."

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 16, 2010, 09:33:45 AM
[laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

I gotta say..........I am a bit disappointed JJ didn't close the deal on the garter belt chick. Was she hot?

If she was wearing that attire to the party.........she was looking for some sausage.

She was cute.  :)

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 16, 2010, 09:33:45 AM
Ok, Mr Question again:

1. When you refer to drop distance is that any piece of the ordinance falling 10ft or a specific part (i.e. nose) hitting the ground? Edit: sounds like either the nose or the tail
2. What is EOD mean?


When do they get fused? Right before loading onto an aircraft or is there a steady supply of ready to go ordiance to keep up a certain "inventory level" if you will.

Drop distance is any part of that particular munition. If the bomb is vertical, and .5 inch of the tail is at 10ft or greater and the munition falls then it is unserviceable, and EOD (or Explosive Ordnance Disposal... did you see The Hurt Locker? That's them.) comes in to either safe, or blow up said munition.

They get fused when we know they are going to be put on a plane that has the potential to use them. The are brought out of storage, fused, then they are transported to the line (flightline) for the armament guys to load on the aircraft.

Quote from: The Happy Pip on July 16, 2010, 09:45:25 AM
Drop distance is any part of that particular munition. If the bomb is vertical, and .5 inch of the tail is at 10ft or greater and the munition falls then it is unserviceable, and EOD (or Explosive Ordnance Disposal... did you see The Hurt Locker? That's them.) comes in to either safe, or blow up said munition.

They get fused when we know they are going to be put on a plane that has the potential to use them. The are brought out of storage, fused, then they are transported to the line (flightline) for the armament guys to load on the aircraft.

Thanks for the knowledge, I appreciate it.

I imagine being in close proximity to a 500lbs bomb would leave a bit of a mark on you  ;)

I've seen some video from Fallujah where an air strike was called in with a 500lbs bomb, no idea make/model, but good lord, that sucker destroyed some property. I want to say it was a JDAM.

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 16, 2010, 09:48:44 AM
I've seen some video from Fallujah where an air strike was called in with a 500lbs bomb, no idea make/model, but good lord, that sucker destroyed some property. I want to say it was a JDAM.

Probably was. Joint Direct Attack Munition. Inertial navigation GPS guided, built from either a MK82, or a MK84 (2,000lb'er).

My fave was the BLU-113 (4,000lb penetrator... it was make the beast with two backsing AWESOME)

Quote from: The Happy Pip on July 16, 2010, 09:56:11 AM
Probably was. Joint Direct Attack Munition. Inertial navigation GPS guided, built from either a MK82, or a MK84 (2,000lb'er).

My fave was the BLU-113 (4,000lb penetrator... it was make the beast with two backsing AWESOME)

Let me figure out where I have that video saved and I'll send it to you, as I don't want to post it on the net and link here as that wouldn't be appropriate.

Shoot me your email.

How We Got Into the Lowenbrau Tent At Oktoberfest.  Or, Another act of stupidity caused and ultimately resolved by booze.

Before I outline the profound acts of jackassery that would transpire in the hours after our arrival in Munich, I would first like to point out an interesting fact.  The Munich airport may be the nicest building I have ever been in.  It is constructed out of smoked glass and polished nickel, is lit like an art gallery, and generally reminds me of departments stores I've been to where I can't afford anything.  I would not be surprised to discover that they hold fashion shows or sign treaties there.  If I find myself in Germany again, I may stop there again just to hang out.

Anyways.


We arrived on a Friday, lingered at Awesome International Airport for a while, then took a cab to our hotel. We had spent a couple weeks planning this trip, the six of us, and had a game plan laid out.  We would get a good night's sleep, wake up early, and stake our claim at one of the dozen or so tents the brewers set up.  Then we would drink until we were dead, probably.  Tents, by the way, are of Barnum and Bailey proportions - they hold thousands of people each, and this is really where all the action is.  Outside there are rides and vendors and you can buy beer, but inside is Das Fun.

We had been warned by everyone that had heard of our plans that we would be completely SOL if we arrived at the grounds after 10:00AM.  No chance that we would be getting into a tent, since once you are in Beervana you are disinclined to leave and free up space for someone else.  "Get there early" said our hotel and airline booking agents, cab driver, trusted advisors, mothers and religious leaders.  So, it was no surprise to us to get yet another friendly warning as we checked in.  Ah, Oktoberfest.  You will arrive early there, yes?  Ja, of course, dude.

When we woke up at 10:30 the next morning with crippling hangovers, we frantically assembled the group and lurched as fast as we could toward the nearest train station.  Where the make the beast with two backs are we going?  I don't know.  Let's follow the people in the lederhosen.  Oktoberfest, yes?

Another quick aside:  Lederhosen and what the women wear -the Dirndl- are not really costumes, the way you might break out your whatever-themed clothes for Whateverfest. These are actual garments -National Garments- and they take them seriously.  All the German attendees we met were dressed in one or the other.  If I ever go back I am totally going to wear a fruity pair of leder pants.  Also, the women of Germany look collectively hot dressed like peasants.

Our first beer, standing there looking at the lines to the tents was a liter of bitter disappointment.  It was cold and wet, and the six of us -from Texas, Mexico City, and Australia- were dressed like idiots from warm climates.  It was just warm enough for the snow to turn to drizzle before hitting us, so the first order of business was to buy ridiculous souvenir hats with which to forestall hypothermia.

We did some quick recon, and found a line that we thought might be moving.  We discovered over the course of two hours that this was attrition based movement, no seemed to be getting into the tent.  Naturally, our resolve began to waver after some time.  Maybe we would have better luck at another tent. Maybe we should just hang out outside for a while and get drunk.  Wait it out.  About the time our hands were hovering over the abort mission button, we reached the front of the line.

There were several large people manning the door - they let people back in who had return-to-tent stamps, and otherwise served as glassy-eyed reflectors of the impatient stares directed at them by a long line of drunk people.  When we reached the door, I watched as Chris the Aussie, took two 100 Euro bills and slapped it on the window.  We got a smile and an apologetic shrug from one of them.  Eventually, he came out and talked to us.

His name was Mohammed, and he seemed sincere when he said he could not take our money in good conscience and that he was sorry that he couldn't let us in.  We assured him that we were not trying to pull a dick move, but deperate times, you know?  If it were up to me, I would take you all in.  Be patient, he said smiling.  Mohammed, as it turns, out was a very kind man.

Hope had glimmered faintly for the first time since we arrived, so we sent word to the rest of group who had temporarily reatreated to a drizzle-free area.  Chris and I waited, trying not to look so desperate, and trying not to punch the people who began to elbow us from behind.

And then, Chris grabbed my arm and dragged me through the door. 

It was warm, and dry, and I could hear the sound of happy people.  I looked back up, after looking down to identify the arm that yanked me - Mohammed was  telling me to go, my friend, go.  As I fled in stunned slow-motion, I looked back to see Mohammed urging us on, and a lot of pissed off looking people watching us through the windows of the doors.

We were in.  Chris and I stopped and hugged, and possibly made out for minute we were so goddamn happy.  Chris explained that Mohammed had waited until he was alone at the door, then yanked him in.

We had just seconds to savor the moment. There was angry German being spoken, and another, firmer yank at my arm.  This time, it was a large blonde man who began to drag me back towards door.  My hand was investigated.  Before I had time to construct an alibi, I was informed, loudly, in English

NO STAMP.

The door was opened and we were pressed back into the cold and against the spiteful elbows of our linemates.

OK, this is getting to be too long for one post.  I'll submit more shortly..

Chapter II:  The Plan.  The Incredibly Stupid Plan.

Verily, Chris and Adam had been to the mountain, and it was good. 

We located our friends and recounted our brief stay in the promised land.  I was surprised and disappointed by the reaction.  It may have been that we had seen the other side, however briefly, while they had Fall German weather continually pissed on them, but there was also some level of skepticism of repeating the feat, and with all six of us.  Morale was lower than ever.  Goddamn it. 

Lacking good ideas, and thinking they wouldn't bail on us while we were separated, Chris and I got another beer and returned to the front.  We didn't bother jockeying our way back into what was an increasingly drunk an angry mob, but just lingered and drank, hoping inspiration would strike.  Mohammed shrugged at us from behind the door.  We know you tried.

We kept an eye on the other door guys who ejected us, the Door Naz-

The door... strict guys.  Strict adherents of the door enforcement policy.  These individuals, they didn't look like they were inclined to leave again.

Meanwhile, we leered at people walking up to the front presenting their stamped hand, and walking in, while the door crew kept the line at bay.

make the beast with two backs it.  I don't remember who said it, or even if it was said, but we mentally converged on this concept at the same moment - we  didn't even need to communicate the plan to each other.  We saw a big mob of hand-stamp bearers approach the door.  We swiftly entangled ourself in the group as the door crew started to contain the rush of line-dwellers toward the door.  Four or five people with stamps made it in.  Then Chris, ducking, and flashing a hand with a nonexistent stamp disappeared through the door.  More people filtered in, and I was one of the last though and had just a couple bodies with which to shield myself.  Mohammed somehow materialized in front of me and created what I realized was a visibility shield between me and the other door crew with enough space for me to pass on the other side of him. He grabbed me.  May he be greeted in heaven with 72 virgins, he said run, man! and shoved me toward the inside of the tent.

We were in again, and this time, we disappeared.

I found Chris at what seemed to be a safe distance from the front, looking elated and wary.  High-fives were dispensed.  What now?  Beer.  As we drank and dried off in the warm bosom of the tent, we considered the problem.  It was either coming up with a good reason to let the rest of the group to suffer in the cold or a good plan on getting ourselves, with them, back in.  We didn't lack sympathy for them, but they didn't exactly demonstrate a lot of fortitude with their retreat talk.

After the last half liter, what we didn't lack was beer, in us.  We probably had at least three liters apiece.  make the beast with two backsthat we came here and weregonna, come here, like INSIDE here, youknow, were not gonna NOT come inhere.  ALL of us.  I remember saying, inspirationally.  Chris agreed, it would be all or nothing. It was time to construct an asinine plan.

Once we were in the tent we learned a few things.  There were several entrances, and we had been standing at the main one, probably the busiest one.  Also, there was someone, at some point, somewhere giving out hand stamps for re-admittance.   We figured that if we could get our hands stamped we might pull the same stunt that we just pulled, with the two of us bookending the group to add some legitimacy. Well, this person did exist, and was an asshole, because once we finally located them, he refused to give us one, citing some Oktoberfest rule.  We would rely on drunken bravado, and improvise.

We then located a entrance through which to stage our return.  We found at one of the side doors what might be the only local that didn't speak perfect English, and pantomimed to him that we would be coming back, and could you please let us back through?  We made a point to point out our hats, our ridiculous hypothermia-preventing hats.   We were all wearing them, and we figured this would be our collective identification. RE-MEM-BER THE HATS.  HATS.  HEAD?

He seemed to get it.  So we steeled our resolved, finished our beers and made our way to leave.

OK the nature of my work is that I am one of a small handful of "blank check" people the corporation keeps around.  I only work on Fortune 100 accounts and I am sent in when either an account management disaster occurs or a multimillion dollar mega-deal opportunity is out for bid. Otherwise I am killing time waiting for the fire bell to go off sometimes weeks sometimes months which explains my post count here

I pull together teams from any area of the company I need to, develop the plan and we go forth. I am granted absolute authority to engage and prioritize any organization that I need to when I am invoked, in order to get things done or fixed. When I get sent in I shave the beard, cut the hair and drag out the suits....I clean up nice and am the reassuring face and voice of the corporation to clients, the guy who actually gets things done or fixed after it shows up on the CEO's radar screen or sometimes/preferably before it gets that far

I am appreciated and sometimes resented...because I come in out of nowhere and preempt whatever local team is managing or mismanaging an account. I don't blame, I fix...I leave the ugly back-stabbing stuff to the locals to sort out once I wring the facts out of them to establish a starting point. I am often initially challenged with "and who are you?" to which I cheerfully reply with a laugh "the best thing that has happened to you recently or the worst, let's figure out where we are"

I have no magic powers, my effectiveness is only attributable to the fact that I can bypass process and escalation to get what is needed where it is needed, when it is needed....I am little more than the corporation's exception-clause to its own rules so I don't get all ego'd up about it...but I do let people create their own mythology about me...they need to believe in saviors

Anyway I was at a retirement party for a coworker a while back, this coworker and I pulled a wonderful prank on one of his employees..also a great guy, he took it very well ...

but as they say payback's a pregnant dog...

this charming shot was taken on the avenging party's cell phone that night....I was goaded into dancing with the belly dancer at Layla downtown

by the next morning this shot was printed out and posted in every elevator lobby on every floor of our headquarters with the caption "I am from Headquarters and I am here to help"

(http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee91/visigoth9/RichardSimmons.jpg)

^^^ It looks like she is getting ready to pinch your hog with her hand cymbal.

Quote from: kopfjäger on July 16, 2010, 09:30:23 PM
^^^ It looks like she is getting ready to pinch your hog with her hand cymbal.

yup going for the man package...cymbals were a little small for the task at hand though  [laugh]

Quote from: RAT900 on July 16, 2010, 09:38:53 PM
yup going for the man package...cymbals were a little small for the task at hand though  [laugh]

[laugh] [drink]

(http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee91/visigoth9/RichardSimmons.jpg)
revenge....

a dish best served ice cold. ;D

One summer I got a job tending bar on booze cruise boats in Boston Harbor.  One of the oddities of the liquor license was we couldn't serve anything until the lines were cast off, so there was typically 15-20 minutes of standing behind the bar as everyone boarded and lined up at the bar being thirsty.  One evening I was chatting up a girl at the bar while we waited for the bell to start pouring.  The small talk seemed a little more friendly than just shooting the shit, so I gave her her drink on the house, hopefully planting the seed for later events.  Well, that sort of backfired; apparently I was so distracted by her I poured her a glass of sour mix instead of the white wine she ordered.  She thought it was funny...

Later on I took a break and wandered around, finding her on the upper deck where the band was. After a couple  of dances, all seemed to be going well.  The band went on break and more conversation.
She asked what I did in the winter and  I told her I was at a ski area in Maine. She said she knew someone who lived there.  I asked their name, and she responded with my fathers name.  My first thought is that rotten bastard has been here first.   I ask how she knew him, and she replies "He's my cousin".  Really, what are the chances... 

The time I shot police HQ and they took away my potato gun:

Back in the day we built a lot of spud guns in various length barrels and sizes.  My prized gun had a threaded adapter at the chamber that would allow me to unscrew the barrel and screw on another of a different size or length.  I was also able to load multiple barrels and have them at the ready when we were "mobile."

So my friend has this pounded S-10 and one night we decide to take the potato gun on a road trip.  It's like 2 am.

Also know that this friend had a drinking problem, and he was in the early stages of it.  There is beer in the truck.  He is drinking one while we drive around.

What could go wrong?

So we make our way into suburbia and I hop into the bed.

We drive around for a half hour or so while Im shooting at random cars, mailboxes, houses and lawn figures and having a ball.

We decide to change our location (don't want to stay too long in one spot) and pull out onto a more major street (though we're the only car on the road)

I have one shot left and decide to shoot the sign of a local convenience store.

BOOOM!  I rip a spud dead on target.  The sign doesn't break, but the plastic, being long and wide (like 4x8) just wobbles in and out violently.  I am pleased.

I hop into the truck and we head to the east side to see if these 2 girls we always drank with were home.  So we could drink more and try to hit it.

Sadly they were not home.  However, the city cops pulled us over in front of their house.

They had been following us for about 25 minutes, from the west side to where we were at that point.

They light us up, I start shoving beer behind the seats (regular cab truck) and wondering just how make the beast with two backsed we were.

Apparently when I took out the sign, some old lady was on her porch.  According to the cops she thought I had a shot gun [laugh]  She dropped down onto her porch, crawled into her house on her belly and called 911 [laugh] [laugh]  The cops followed us from there.

They did not find any beer for lack of searching.  Once they saw the potato gun (hard to hide that beast at 4' long) they felt no need to search for more ;D

They were actually pretty cool about it, and let us drive ourselves back to the station while they followed.

At the station, they make the beast with two backsing marveled at my cannon.  It's like they never saw one before [laugh]  At one point one of them says, "we want you to go out back with us and show us how this works."

Me:  "you got it"

We're out back.

Them: "we all have guns.  Watch were you point that thing."

Me: "I can handle that."

I load up and shoot the building.  I actually got to shoot the precinct!

They make the beast with two backsing love it.  They turn into little kids.

One says "i have to build one of these!"

They wrap the thing up with caution tape and that's the last I saw of it.

I ended up with a $100 fine and I made my friend pay half of it [laugh]

Good times.

Addendum:

Do not prime potato guns with acetylene

I just have one picture for Mother:

(https://lh5.ggpht.com/_ubsBSdjlJuA/TEHZE6RI95I/AAAAAAAADZE/wsHVrzPFuY4/bigadventure.jpg)

This should bring back some good memories.......

Its not really my story to tell, but I will say this:

slowpoke stopped here in Santa Barbara last night on his way to San Diego. I hadn't seen him since shortly before he left for his tour of Japan and South Africa. We drank a few beers on my deck and enjoyed the views. Then I took him out. Had a decent dinner at the local brew house. Drank many beers. slowpoke ogled the asian bartenders goods, much to the consternation of said bartender's flannel clad girlfriend who was building a house of cards out of coasters across the bar from us. Then went to a horrible Irish bar. It was like somewhere booze hags and boners go to die. After one beer there we went to another Irish bar. Jackpot! We can make something happen for my man in this joint. I remember striking up conversations with likely candidates for slowpoke by asking if I should punch the guy wearing red pants in the face. It needs to be emphasized that this guy was straight and wearing red pants. Red pants. No. Seriously. Red. Pants. Obviously if the answer was, "No, you should not punch the guy in the red pants" then they were right out. Buh-bye. The funniest moment of my evening was talking to a waitress who thought it was a GREAT idea that I go punch the guy in the red pants in the face. Luckily the GITRP left before she could talk me into it.

Eventually slowpoke found someone he could fall madly in love with until sunrise. I did a fantastic job of distracting her friend. But even though she knew I was married from the outset she still may have thought there was a chance for her. Um, no. You see the definition of wing man is he who distracts so as to block the cock block. That is all. Eventually I had to risk ruining slowpokes chances and be horrifically blunt with her. She wasn't getting it. But that worked well because after she texted some back up douche bag her friend must have figured: okay she's taken care of, I can leave now. So off she and slowpoke went. As for me, I made a swift exit about 10 minutes later when the friend (and defeated cock blocker) went to restroom.  [laugh]  The whole string of events made me glad that I am happily married.

The morning after we went to breakfast around noonish. Nice place, good food, right on the beach. I go there fairly often and recognized our waitress. slowpoke noticed she was quite fetching. Ok then, its on. I was charming and made a smooth segue so that slowpoke could mention he recent stays in Japan and Africa. I derided the idiot tourists. By the middle of the meal the waitress said, "Just so you know, I really like you guys. My name is Summer so when you come back be sure to ask to sit my section." Seriously. I'm about 90% sure I can hook that up for slowpoke when he comes back to SB.

Best. Wingman. Ever.

sac

Quote from: Mother on July 17, 2010, 07:21:45 AM
Addendum:

Do not prime potato guns with acetylene

Well, duh. Everyone knows that acetylene is used to fill garbage bags so you can flick lit cigarette butts at them.

Ah the fond memories this thread brings back. *sigh*

sac

Acid wash? Holy make the beast with two backsing hell does word travel fast in these parts!   [laugh]


sac

Quote from: AcidWash on July 17, 2010, 12:55:35 PM

Well, duh. Everyone knows that acetylene is used to fill garbage bags so you can flick lit cigarette butts at them.

Ah the fond memories this thread brings back. *sigh*

sac

Beach balls filled with above mentioned devil gas are equally not welcome in camp anymore

Quote from: AcidWash on July 17, 2010, 12:52:57 PM
<snip>
Best. Wingman. Ever.

sac

Quote from: AcidWash on July 17, 2010, 12:59:38 PM
Acid wash? Holy make the beast with two backsing hell does word travel fast in these parts!   [laugh]


sac

Trust no one. :-* [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

Quote from: Betty Rage on July 17, 2010, 07:28:08 AM
I just have one picture for Mother:

(https://lh5.ggpht.com/_ubsBSdjlJuA/TEHZE6RI95I/AAAAAAAADZE/wsHVrzPFuY4/bigadventure.jpg)

This should bring back some good memories.......

who is about to shoot the beer?  WTF?

Not sure it would count as my best story but since it just happened today and it's fresh in my mind, I might as well tell it. Sorry if it's dull in comparison to everyone elses's but it was pretty hair raising at the time.

My wife and I went out this morning to pick up her new fridge and dishwasher from the place which is something like 20 miles away, need to mention that this fridge ended up being enormous.

So here we are heading back on what is a fairly hilly and windy road back in my little '99 S-10. I'm taking it easy since I've got a buncha money worth of heavy crap in the back, actually doing the speed limit and all. The car in front of me jams on the brakes all of a sudden as a cute but evil baby deer just stepped out in the road. unexpectedly my foot goes right to the floor as I go to step on my brakes, pumping does nothing either so with the opposing lane clear I just blow right around the whole deal on the left with obviously both the car and the deer just thinking I'm an asshole.

So now I have a dilemma, there's quite a few places that people are likely to yank out in front of me between here and home and also a traffic light right at the bottom of the hill where route 590 T's into route 6. Wonderful! Flashers on and speed dropped down a few pegs I continue on, luckily no jackass did anything dumb or unexpected as I went on and the next worry was coming soon. Thank goodness for a torquey 4.3 and the truck being stick as coming down the hill towards before mention traffic light I was able to drop my speed pretty well. Light not being green I went into a turning lane to the right which was the opposite direction I need but at least a way I don't need to stop. Drove up the road a bit and turned into the high school parking lot. Testing the brakes out a bit in a controlled environment I quickly found I had nothing, pumping and foot to the floor there was nothing in the least. I practiced a bit with stopping without stalling while popping the truck out of gear while operating the horrible e-brake foot pedal while holding the release with my left hand.

Left the lot heading back in the direction I need to go, I poked down the road towards the traffic light I still need to pass thru with douchebags honking horns at me all the while with my currently free hand out the window flipping them off in return. Timed it right to come up to that light as it turned green with thankfully the next one which is a few hundred feet afterward being green as well, probably would run that one if I had to. Shortly afterward, came up on my road which of course I need to make a left onto and the road I'm on has a blind corner after my road which many assholes come flying around. Knocked my speed down to about 15 mph as I approached, ready to abort the attempt and just yanked across fast and up the road as thankfully noone was coming.

Now it's just go down the quiet street pull the truck into my yard, back up to my front porch and unload. Backing up consisted of keeping the truck in first, letting it roll backward with the clutch in and slip it enough to slow it down. After a mild bonk as the hitch smacked the stone patio, I was safely home.
Now did I mention the make the beast with two backsing fridge is enormous?

I had to take both the front door and the storm door off. Then also the fridge had to lose all it's packing and I had to take off all it's doors. Then it was a pregnant dog and half to tip back onto my hand truck as I weigh all of about 150 lbs and my wife is hardly an Amazon. Finally got it in and had to put everything back together.
Not an exciting story but a very stress filled one and I can add driving a truck with no brakes whatsoever with a decent load in it to my list of things I'd rather not do again. At least this addition to my list doesn't end with losing my license but then that would be a better story. Maybe I should tell that one some time.

Glad you made it safely lethe. [thumbsup]  Sounds like I've passed on my recent vehicle karma to you, sorry.

Quote from: somegirl on July 17, 2010, 06:48:03 PM
Glad you made it safely lethe. [thumbsup]  Sounds like I've passed on my recent vehicle karma to you, sorry.

Nah, it's not you. This is something right along the lines of my typical luck.
<---------hence chaos
I've driven a a car home with no clutch (throwout bearing failure) in heavy traffic but no brakes is a new and not nice experience. I tell you, a hand operated emergency brake is a lot easier to use than that foot POS.

Along a similar but not so extreme line, last year on the way to The Painters house with the dimby boat, I lost most of the brakes in the truck.  Pedal to the floor gave me a degree slow down power but nothing too confidence inspiring.  Given the trailer full of junk boat I had I felt calling a wrecker was not a good idea so I carried on, refilling the brake fluid every so often.   No real drama but a fun ride.

Your dedication to our need to burn things is very much appreciated.

Can we burn the truck this year?

Quote from: Monsterlover on July 18, 2010, 08:09:39 AM
Your dedication to our need to burn things is very much appreciated.

Can we burn the truck this year?

Asking me, no but if my wife were asked yes. Thankfully driving it there would be enough of a pain in the ass that it ain't gonna happen.

Since most of the stories here are about getting drunk in college, I thought I'd add my contribution. I'll call this one: The day I passed out and woke up in another state surrounded by boobs.

My birthday is February 17. I share the day I was kicked out of the womb with such illustrious characters as Paris Hilton, Larry the Cable Guy, and Michael Jordan. Fortunately for me, my birthday usually lands during a much more intellectual event: Mardi Gras.  [drink]

Through a pretty strange turn of events, I had to leave my country and apply for college 2 weeks before most universities started classes in August. I guess I should consider myself lucky that I had a somewhat respectable institution take me at all within that time frame. The near perfect SAT score I managed to pull out of my ass while completely hungover probably helped, but that's another story. Anyways, I ended up taking my first year of engineering classes at Texas A and M, Galveston.

A and M Galveston is one of the country's leading institution in Marine Engineering and Marine Biology. With a whopping 1800 students, about three quarters of them are females studying Marine Biology. I did not know this at the time, but apparently it is a requirement to BE a whale in order to STUDY whales. The median weight of girls at the campus is probably around 250# and I'm being generous. Coming from a country where there is basically no obesity I was awestruck by the sheer gargantuan size of the land based cetaceans I had to pass on the way to physics class every day. Being an 18 year old male with raging hormones and absolutely no acceptable outlet, I took up two activities to dull the pain and take the edge off, Drinking and Rowing.

The A and M rowing team is notorious for being a drinking team with a rowing problem; showing up to different regattas in varying degrees of drunkenness. Anyone who has been a part of crew knows that you practice at 430 am every morning, so we would just usually head on over from whichever house we had been actively trying to destroy. My 19th birthday started off no differently. It landed on a Saturday, during Mardi Gras in Galveston. Mardi Gras is galveston is like riding a MotoGp track in a push scooter, could be fun, but deep down inside you know it's not the real thing, and you feel all the more disappointed because of it.

So on the eve of my birthday, we had an upperclassman buy us inordinate amounts of Alcoholic beverages in exchange for keeping a couple of bottles. To make matters worse, I had just been named captain of the novice crew, so were in a celebratory mood. The night started off slow, with triple Jagerbomb shots, but quickly descended into bourbon chugging contests. My boat and I were all trying to hit on the two decent-looking girls in the entire school, which happened to be coxswains in team, and needless to say, I was making an ass out of myself. At some point during the night, I had decided that I would no longer communicate in english, so my friend would have to translate my drunken spanish. By the time 12 am rolled around the general consensus was that we were too drunk to be inside a house safely, so we drove to the big party in the Strand, where a sad excuse for a Mardi Gras celebration was taking place. Somehow we made it to our destination without any major accidents and proceeded to mingle with the crowd. By mingle I mean shamelessly hit on anything with a skirt. I remember telling a girl that was flashing for beads that I'd seen better breasts on obese men. In another episode I walked up to a random girl and started making out with her, only to have her considerably larger boyfriend pull me away and start beating on me. Backed as I was with a 7 person entourage, the fight broke up shortly afterwards.

I think it was at that point that we all looked around and realized that the night would not end well. Certain as we were that we would die promptly, we decided to make the best of the time we had left. Somehow we managed to convince a group of UTMB girls to go back to an afterparty at our place, where even more alcohol would be imbibed. The last thing I remember was doing shots with one of them.  It must have been around 4am.

Have you ever woken up in a sidewalk? I have.

The next memory I have is of breasts. Many of them. I woke up late afternoon laying on a sidewalk staring a slew of women with their breasts covered in beads flashing the balcony directly above me. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. But I was alone in this heaven. I also realized that I had no cellphone, no wallet, and no Idea where I was. I was also dressed in my crew uniform, which was composed of a pair of short shorts, underarmour shirt and a crew jacket. The smart thing would have been to stay in place and wait for a familiar face to go by, but I lured into the crowd with the promise of more drinks and boobies. My attire made me quick friends with some LSU crew members that happened to be nearby; these fine folk didn't hesitate to offer me beer and a sandwich. They also confirmed my suspicions as to my surroundings. I was now in New Orleans, in the REAL Mardi Gras. I decided that it was best not to try and figure things out until my body had a more adequate level of alcohol. After a couple of hours partying with them, a new buzz had been happily achieved and I was in full on Chipo-needs-to-get-laid-mode. It is infinitely difficult to score when you are wearing short shorts BTW. I managed to find a girl as drunk as I was, who proceeded to try to eat my face off. She must've been the worst, sloppiest kisser ever. No matter how hard I tried to detach myself from the face-sucker I couldn't shake her off. I finally managed to distract her with the promise of more alcohol and quietly exited stage left.

Now I was faced with another problem. I couldn't get back to my new found LSU friends for fear of the mouth-monster, but I was also alone in a fairly hostile environment. My realization sober me up pretty quickly and forced me to make the first intelligent decision of the night, go back to the place where I woke up. Thankfully, after a few minutes of searching, I was able to identify the piss stained wall I woke up next to, and to my surprise, I also identified seven concerned looking friends, who were busy calling hospitals and police stations to find my whereabouts. I told them of my recent ordeal, and they told me of how we had arrived at this fair city.

Apparently, I passed out at around 4 in the morning the night before. We had practice at 4:30. They woke me up and helped me dress for practice and headed out the boathouse. They arrived to find our coach too hungover to properly operate the launch. He dismissed the morning's practice and told us to take the team's van back home, seeing as only a couple of us were sober. They had better plans and immediately got on the road to new Orleans.

The rest of the weekend proceeded in pretty much the same fashion: Drink, try to pick up girls, pass out, Repeat ad infinitum. We ended up getting back to Galveston sometime tuesday of the next week. Thankfully our coach was understanding, even though he did relieve us of van privileges.

I have never binged like that again. I must have been drunk well into thursday.  All in all, it was a good birthday [drink] [drink] [drink]

Quote from: El Matador on July 18, 2010, 11:40:08 AM
Since most of the stories here are about getting drunk in college, I thought I'd add my contribution. I'll call this one: The day I passed out and woke up in another state surrounded by boobs.

My birthday is February 17. I share the day I was kicked out of the womb with such illustrious characters as Paris Hilton, Larry the Cable Guy, and Michael Jordan. Fortunately for me, my birthday usually lands during a much more intellectual event: Mardi Gras.  [drink]

Through a pretty strange turn of events, I had to leave my country and apply for college 2 weeks before most universities started classes in August. I guess I should consider myself lucky that I had a somewhat respectable institution take me at all within that time frame. The near perfect SAT score I managed to pull out of my ass while completely hungover probably helped, but that's another story. Anyways, I ended up taking my first year of engineering classes at Texas A and M, Galveston.

A and M Galveston is one of the country's leading institution in Marine Engineering and Marine Biology. With a whopping 1800 students, about three quarters of them are females studying Marine Biology. I did not know this at the time, but apparently it is a requirement to BE a whale in order to STUDY whales. The median weight of girls at the campus is probably around 250# and I'm being generous. Coming from a country where there is basically no obesity I was awestruck by the sheer gargantuan size of the land based cetaceans I had to pass on the way to physics class every day. Being an 18 year old male with raging hormones and absolutely no acceptable outlet, I took up two activities to dull the pain and take the edge off, Drinking and Rowing.

The A and M rowing team is notorious for being a drinking team with a rowing problem; showing up to different regattas in varying degrees of drunkenness. Anyone who has been a part of crew knows that you practice at 430 am every morning, so we would just usually head on over from whichever house we had been actively trying to destroy. My 19th birthday started off no differently. It landed on a Saturday, during Mardi Gras in Galveston. Mardi Gras is galveston is like riding a MotoGp track in a push scooter, could be fun, but deep down inside you know it's not the real thing, and you feel all the more disappointed because of it.

So on the eve of my birthday, we had an upperclassman buy us inordinate amounts of Alcoholic beverages in exchange for keeping a couple of bottles. To make matters worse, I had just been named captain of the novice crew, so were in a celebratory mood. The night started off slow, with triple Jagerbomb shots, but quickly descended into bourbon chugging contests. My boat and I were all trying to hit on the two decent-looking girls in the entire school, which happened to be coxswains in team, and needless to say, I was making an ass out of myself. At some point during the night, I had decided that I would no longer communicate in english, so my friend would have to translate my drunken spanish. By the time 12 am rolled around the general consensus was that we were too drunk to be inside a house safely, so we drove to the big party in the Strand, where a sad excuse for a Mardi Gras celebration was taking place. Somehow we made it to our destination without any major accidents and proceeded to mingle with the crowd. By mingle I mean shamelessly hit on anything with a skirt. I remember telling a girl that was flashing for beads that I'd seen better breasts on obese men. In another episode I walked up to a random girl and started making out with her, only to have her considerably larger boyfriend pull me away and start beating on me. Backed as I was with a 7 person entourage, the fight broke up shortly afterwards.

I think it was at that point that we all looked around and realized that the night would not end well. Certain as we were that we would die promptly, we decided to make the best of the time we had left. Somehow we managed to convince a group of UTMB girls to go back to an afterparty at our place, where even more alcohol would be imbibed. The last thing I remember was doing shots with one of them.  It must have been around 4am.

Have you ever woken up in a sidewalk? I have.

The next memory I have is of breasts. Many of them. I woke up late afternoon laying on a sidewalk staring a slew of women with their breasts covered in beads flashing the balcony directly above me. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. But I was alone in this heaven. I also realized that I had no cellphone, no wallet, and no Idea where I was. I was also dressed in my crew uniform, which was composed of a pair of short shorts, underarmour shirt and a crew jacket. The smart thing would have been to stay in place and wait for a familiar face to go by, but I lured into the crowd with the promise of more drinks and boobies. My attire made me quick friends with some LSU crew members that happened to be nearby; these fine folk didn't hesitate to offer me beer and a sandwich. They also confirmed my suspicions as to my surroundings. I was now in New Orleans, in the REAL Mardi Gras. I decided that it was best not to try and figure things out until my body had a more adequate level of alcohol. After a couple of hours partying with them, a new buzz had been happily achieved and I was in full on Chipo-needs-to-get-laid-mode. It is infinitely difficult to score when you are wearing short shorts BTW. I managed to find a girl as drunk as I was, who proceeded to try to eat my face off. She must've been the worst, sloppiest kisser ever. No matter how hard I tried to detach myself from the face-sucker I couldn't shake her off. I finally managed to distract her with the promise of more alcohol and quietly exited stage left.

Now I was faced with another problem. I couldn't get back to my new found LSU friends for fear of the mouth-monster, but I was also alone in a fairly hostile environment. My realization sober me up pretty quickly and forced me to make the first intelligent decision of the night, go back to the place where I woke up. Thankfully, after a few minutes of searching, I was able to identify the piss stained wall I woke up next to, and to my surprise, I also identified seven concerned looking friends, who were busy calling hospitals and police stations to find my whereabouts. I told them of my recent ordeal, and they told me of how we had arrived at this fair city.

Apparently, I passed out at around 4 in the morning the night before. We had practice at 4:30. They woke me up and helped me dress for practice and headed out the boathouse. They arrived to find our coach too hungover to properly operate the launch. He dismissed the morning's practice and told us to take the team's van back home, seeing as only a couple of us were sober. They had better plans and immediately got on the road to new Orleans.

The rest of the weekend proceeded in pretty much the same fashion: Drink, try to pick up girls, pass out, Repeat ad infinitum. We ended up getting back to Galveston sometime tuesday of the next week. Thankfully our coach was understanding, even though he did relieve us of van privileges.

I have never binged like that again. I must have been drunk well into thursday.  All in all, it was a good birthday [drink] [drink] [drink]

J,
You must have 9 lives ...........and a Stomach made of cast Iron !

Dolph      :)

Chapter III:  TU NO PASARA!

As Chris and I made our way to the door, the door guy, to whom we had just spent the half hour explaining in semaphore and slow, loud English that we did not have hand stamps and could you please let us back in anyways, stopped us.  By this point, getting stopped by door guy fatigue had set in.

He motioned to our hands. My god.  OK, see?  No stamp.  Nein stamp on hand.  

He turned around, produced a stamp and ink pad and stamped our hands.  He looked pleased to have solved the mystery of annoying people at his door.

Chris and I just stood there looking at our hands for a minute, then we shimmied out the door as the door guy held an increasingly hostile line at bay for us.

The plan up to this point had been this:  make our presence known to a door guy, return with people that looked like us, get in.  We were relying on the element of confusion to pull this off - we chose the door guy that we couldn't communicate with thinking he would rather let in a few more then spend several minutes fighting the crowd while scrutinizing our credentials and listening to loud, slow English.  Things had gotten slightly more complicated now that we had to explain why two of six of us have stamps.  make the beast with two backs.

We had to forge the hand stamp - we rushed to find the group, found them, licked our hands and pressed them to theirs hoping they would confer some of their magic Oktoberfest-admitting ink. Nothing.  The others stood there wondering where we had been and by the way, what the make the beast with two backs are you doing to my hand.  We explained the old plan.  Once again we were met with what was an entirely realistic level of skepticism, which pissed me off.  Also, our party had grown by one.  A German girl who had immediately announced that she would rather go back to hotel and watch TV.  No.  No, Fraulein Yoko.

I didn't fly hundreds of miles, land in a really interesting airport, risk stupidity-induced hypothermia, promise to name my first child Mohammed, and then leave the goddamn tent for you assholes only to give up now, I remember saying inspirationally.

HERE IS THE NEW PLAN.  Find some pens.  Or a marker.  Ashes. something black.  Make it look like, I don't know, you had a stamp and sweat it off or something.  German letters, make the beast with two backs, I don't know.  GO.

They quickly scrambled to find what they could, got to work and then we huddled around the hands as we compared actual to makeshift stamps.  Their hands, despite my very specific instructions, looked like they smeared a bunch of shit on them.  Some had smeared shit on their left hand, others on their right.  I figured we only had so much time before the door guy's short term memory of us faded, so it was probably now or never.

PERFECT.  THOSE make the beast with two backsING HANDS LOOK SO PERFECT.  LET'S GO.

We lined up.  Chris with the legitimate stamp in front, the German girl in the middle in case she had to translate, or invite the door guy back to the hotel to watch TV, me, then the rest.  We knocked on the window of the door, and it opened half a foot, as much as the door guy who seemed to recognize Chris could push against the line, who were now singing a song in German that was probably about killing the door guy at Oktoberfest.

I watched as Chris disappeared into the door in front of me a third time.  A fake stamp guy got through.  Yes.  I rushed to the front as the door guy made a move to start looking at hands.  HEY ME!  Remember me?  I squeezed through, as the signing began to sound more like chanting.  I ran in a few steps, then turned to watch our progress.  

The German girl, and the guy from our group she would later blue-ball were attempting to squeeze through next.  A hand from someone from the line had implicated itself in the tangle of door guy, friend and German girl.  It was furtively patting her torso.  It was looking for tit.  My friend looked down at the hand groping its way around.  Not now Jay, goddamn it.  In one invisible push from behind, they were both through.

There were now two inches of daylight, and, among others, two sets of hands with shit smeared on them attempting to make their way through the door.  Things were looking and sounding more like a zombie movie with unmatched body parts sticking through the door.  It it looked like a fight that broke out outside.  I started to run back to the door, when I witnessed the most remarkable feat of strength I have ever seen.

I heard a great moaning at the hinges of the door, as Ivan, our friend from Mexico City, had somehow managed to get enough leverage to shove the door open fully open.  He stood, withstanding the weight and the will of the assholes trying to ruin our plan to get in, like Gandalf before the Balrog.  Get the make the beast with two backs back!  Daylight burst into the tent.  I am pretty sure I heard the sound of trumpets. The of the group collapsed into to door way,  the door guy scrambled in, and Ivan let the door slam behind him.  We were in.


Epilogue:
We spend the rest of the afternoon attempting to fulfill our promise of dying of German beer, singing, making friends, and acting the goddamn fool.  It was a tremendous day.  I have been to a number of Marti Gras and other drinking festivals, and this was the best by a large margin.  I would go back in a fraction of a heartbeat, and I would recommend anyone go.  Early.

Also, in the improbable event someone read the entirety, apologies for length, but not girth.

Bavarian Dance-Off (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pv4_cr79Pj4#normal)

i never had that much trouble getting into a tent at oktoberfest. not even on opening day at 11am.

then again we also found a few spots to sit outside so our beers stayed cold a night or 2. spots near the heaters are prime.

glad you got in. it really is the best party i have ever been to. you get a spot at a table and have 8 new friends within 5 min.

Which much displeasure we have been in country (Costa Rica) for almost a week and have yet to report any crazy stories.

However, we do have 2 more nights, so something could come of it.

I did share several cocktails with a former Delta Operator this morning which was pretty cool.

He was actually on super six-eight (SAR Bird) at the Wolcott crash site.


Very interesting encounter as I am reading Durant's book again.

If this guy is bullshitting me, he sure as shit knows a lot about that battle and pilots involved. I am sure Kopjager will chime in.

My first engineering job out of college was with an electronics component manufacturer. I worked closely with several electrical engineers in a lab setting, determining build procedures for production. One EE, whom I am still friends with to this day, shared my penchant for the occasional prank or bout of general silliness.

Part of the engineering lab consisted of a vast stockpile of various and sundry electrical gadgets. One day we selected an electronic project box measuring 8x8x6" from the pile; these are plain black plastic enclosures with circuit board slots in them, and consist of the box itself and a screw-on lid.

In center of said 8x8" lid, we placed a large red nuclear-doomsday-type pushbutton. Beneath it a decal, custom-made for the occasion, that read "DO NOT PRESS".

Inside the box we deviously assembled a large AC solenoid and a 120db siren, along with a very basic control circuit. A simple black AC cord completed the ensemble.  

We placed The Box on a corner of the workbench and plugged it in. Several days went by, and natural curiosity finally got the best of one of the production floor leads, who pressed the button.

Immediately the solenoid fired, which had enough force to cause the box to jump up and fall over onto its side. The siren triggered simultaneously, utterly terrifying the hapless victim and alerting anyone within earshot. She grew monkey-assed red in the face, shrieking, while frantically stabbing at the button with reckless abandon, to no effect.

You see, the only way to defuse the trap was to unplug it. And simply unplugging it never registered in the ensuing panic.

We almost died laughing. She was not amused. The Box of Death was reset for its next victim, which never came once word got out. It eventually was put on a shelf and forgotten.

I wish I had kept it.  :)

So many other stories, but this one didn't involve booze....

Here's another work one...same workplace where the "priceless" story from above happened.

As part of the geotechnical department we had a materials testing lab where we tested soil, concrete, and asphalt. One procedure for testing asphalt is to take a sample of the asphalt before it is placed and compacted, bring it back to the lab, heat it up to laying temperature, and hand compact it into a small mold...forming what are called "biscuits". A variety of tests are then run on these.

One day we got in a mix that didn't have any large aggregate, all of the aggregate (rocks) were pea gravel size or smaller...pretty odd. Whatever though, we made some "biscuits". Upon pulling the first biscuit from the mold one of the techs. commented on how it looked a lot like a black rice krispy treat. Hmmm...interesting observation!  [evil]

We took some of the leftover asphalt, and pressed it into a standard square baking pan (which we had for drying soil samples)...then quickly cut it into squares. After they cooled (and thus quit smelling so bad), we stacked the squares on a plate and put them upstairs in the kitchen with a sign that read "black licorice rice krispy treats".  ;D They really did look authentic, but we didn't expect anyone to really fall for it.

Wrong...within about 30 minutes the company owner's personal secretary had attempted to take a big bite out of one.  :P We were quickly visited by her (and she was pissed), followed by the company owner. He actually thought it was pretty funny, but told us to knock it off.  [laugh]

We about just got run over by a Tico on a moped while walking back to our room on the grounds of our resort.

What a shock.

Driving school down here I presume is optional.

High-School hi-jinx:

I used to skip High School.  A LOT.  In fact, if you counted up the classes...I actually missed an entire YEAR of my H.S. education. 

Anywho, I had been ditchin' class pretty hard at one point and came home @ the right time w/my books as per usual.  Went downstairs to my room and not long after, the phone rings.  For no explainable reason, I answered the phone in a high-pitched voice.  Whatever, right?  It wasn't anything I hadn't done before and heck...I still do it sometimes.

Well, turns out it was my H.S. guidance counselor calling to rat me out to my parents for ditching class.  He thought I was my Mom.  I figured if he bought a little bit...he was likely to buy a LOT more so I kept up the act and assured him that Stuart would be severely disciplined at home!  I faked a thank you (my voice was beginning to break up by this point in the conversation) and quickly hung up.

Mom called downstairs, "Stuart, who was that?"
Me, "Just one of my friends...".
Mom, "Ok.  But you were talking in a weird voice..."
Me, "Yeah...."   ;D


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

College antics:

My good friend Chris P. & I went to the local engineering college and it was time for final exams.  We used to study at his house b/c his Mom & Dad were better about noise at late hours than my folks were.  It was somewhere around 1am or so and we decided it was 'Slurpee Time!' so we piled into my 1985 Ford Tempo 4-dr and motored to the local 7-11 for the frozen beverages.

I walked in and saw it.  I **KNEW** I had to have it.  It stood over 6' tall and it wasn't technically 'For Sale'. 

I muttered to Chris, "Dude, I'm going to buy Ray."  Chris just stood there trying to comprehend what I just said in it's full meaning...

You see, 'It' was a huge cardboard stand-up of a Diet-Pepsi ad featuring Ray Charles.

1am in a 7-11 in suburban Detroit in a world before bullet-proof glass and 24-hr surveillance cameras you could pull off shit like this:

Me: "Hey, how much for Ray?"
Clerk: "Huh?"
Me:  "Ray Charles.  How much for Ray?" (pointing this time)
Clerk: "I can't sell that, we just got it in today."
Me (more determined this time): "I'll give ya $10 for it."
Clerk: "I don't know..."
Me: "C'mon man.  Ten Bucks..."

I don't know why the clerk looked around to see if anyone was looking as we were the only two fools in the place...

Clerk: "Deal, just if anyone asks...you didn't get it here."
Me:  "Yeah, sure."

So, there we were walking out of a 7-11 with a (damn near) brand-new Ray Charles Diet-Pepsi cardboard cut out.  ;D

Chris:  "You think he's going to fit?" (motioning to the Tempo)
Me:  "Sure!"  (I had NO idea if he would or would not, remember the whole 'I **KNEW** I had to have it' bit above...  I wasn't about to let simple physics get in my way!)

We ended up removing the only removable part on the display.  Ray's left arm came off and after it did, the display --barely-- fit across the back seat of my Tempo.  Didn't care...Ray was MINE!

I climbed back into the drivers seat only to realize I never did get my Slurpee.  Told Chris to keep Ray company and strolled back inside for my 32oz Slurpee.  While I was in there, several cars and about a dozen people showed up.  One of those cars and one of those people was a policeman.  I paid the whole thing no mind, got my Slurpee and got in line.  Clerk dude was sweatin' bullets...

Sucker... [evil]

I kept 'ol Ray for about 4 years in the basement room of my parents house until the cardboard had had enough of the dampness and would barely stand up.

Good times...  [thumbsup]

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 23, 2010, 04:27:41 PM
We about just got run over by a Tico on a moped while walking back to our room on the grounds of our resort.

What a shock.

Driving school down here I presume is optional.

That's your best story? That?

Quote from: MrIncredible on July 23, 2010, 08:05:45 PM
That's your best story? That?

Seriously. Did you tell that hooligan to stay off of your lawn too? Punk kids nowadays, why I tell ya' . . .

If your next story does not involve a full bottle of guaro we will be very disappointed in you young man.

sac

Quote from: SacDuc on July 23, 2010, 08:11:32 PM
If your next story does not involve a full bottle of guaro we will be very disappointed in you young man.

sac

And not even one Pura Vida!

Quote from: DanTheMan on July 30, 2010, 12:36:50 AM
And not even one Pura Vida!

[laugh] [laugh] [laugh]

It's funny how they turned their small country way of living into their tourism motto.



Honestly guys, sorry, I don't really have any good stories from CR. We didn't travel too much around to get in any compromising situations. Sure, we saw some 65 year old gringo pick up a prostitute, but that is legal and common there.

I did get it on with my wife in the pool our last night there while a hundred or so people were at the bar, but I am not sure that is much of an accomplishment as that is very busch league and something you do when your 18.

that wasn't your wife that was the pool boy. [laugh]
damn!wrong thread again, I am sorry I thought this was the "Jud-Me Me Me thread". Really sorry everyone.

Quote from: badgalbetty on July 30, 2010, 04:08:17 AM
that wasn't your wife that was the pool boy. [laugh]
damn!wrong thread again, I am sorry I thought this was the "Jud-Me Me Me thread". Really sorry everyone.

(http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WvPahL3UpmE/SAKdLjLQzOI/AAAAAAAAALw/kDicSwkp39A/s320/dog-humping-a-womans-leg-~-92041.jpg)

Quote from: badgalbetty on July 30, 2010, 04:08:17 AM
that wasn't your wife that was the pool boy. [laugh]
damn!wrong thread again, I am sorry I thought this was the "Jud-Me Me Me thread". Really sorry everyone.

Kind of funny that you say this.  I've come to realize that you're now the female Cyrus here.  At least with Jud we know what we're getting into.

Can you guys take this to the pissing match thread?

Quote from: DanTheMan on July 30, 2010, 09:29:01 AM
Can you guys take this to the pissing match thread?

Thank you Dan. You da' man!   [thumbsup]

All thread pissing offenders owe this thread one good story. Let's hear it.


sac

Quote from: cyrus buelton on July 30, 2010, 09:38:29 AM
I already posted my good story.

I gave up getting laid to chase after a friend with the Po-Po.

Doesn't get more idiotic then that.

Well then dont post if you dont have a story. 

Quote from: DanTheMan on July 30, 2010, 09:41:19 AM
Well then dont post if you dont have a story. 

My wife and I got married in Key West on a sailboat in November of 2008.

After the wedding, all of our friends and family left within a few days and we stayed down there for our honeymoon; we rented a condo in the Truman Annex (for those of you familiar with the area).

A family connection got us a free scooter for the week, which was great. I loved that chinese made piece of shit. I think it was a Hyousung or something like that. It was grey in color, along with every other scooter from that rental shop. It was actually pretty fun, but riding two up couldn't get it much over 35, but with one person you could break 42 (according to the speedometer) and also pull a wheelie by just pulling up on the front bars. But I digress.

So we head out on our last night there on the scooter, park it, and start heavily drinking to the point of a total blackout. Not even sure how many bars we went to, but we ended up at one point at the Tiniest Bar or whatever it is called with a bunch of guys from Sweden. They bought us shots, beer, you name it. Well, they wanted to hit one of the finer gentlemens clubs in Key West (I guess they don't have them in Sweden? Or they were from Norway. I don't remember), so my my bride and I decide to go.

We get there, they pay our cover, and we go on in. This is when I started to black out after the first round of shots and beers. I remember my wife showing the guy how to give the stripper a dollar bill. It was fantastic. Well, it was getting late, we had to get up relatively early as we were driving to Miami to spend the night in south beach.

Somehow good judgment prevailed and we decided not to take the scooter home, but I forgot to use the bike lock on it.

Couldn't make the beast with two backsing find the thing. We were both convinced it was parked outside Sloppy Joes, but it certainly wasn't there. We both started freaking out that the scooter had been stolen. make the beast with two backs!

so we take a cab back to our condo and then started getting all worried about the scooter, so we decide to leave again to go find it. Well, we left the Truman Annex and walked by the Green Parrot and across the street was the rental place.

So I get this great idea they re-possessed it from us because it was gifted to us for a week and I think we probably had it longer than that, so I start looking through the fence at the 100+ scooters that looked identical, but one of them sparked my fancy and totally thought it was ours.

So I decide it is a great idea to scale this 12ft fence to go see if the key would fit in the ignition. Well, I about broke my ankle landing on the pavement and from what my wife remembers, I did a few rolls upon landing. I belly crawled to the scooter (evading being seen...?) and the make the beast with two backsing key wouldn't fit. I vaguely remember getting all pissed off. Well, I wasn't going to check all of them, so I decide it probably was hidden inside, so I belly crawled back to the fence, scaled that make the beast with two backsing fence again, but this time I think I landed in some grass, but again rolled and ended up in the street.

We didn't find the scooter that night, stumbled back to our condo, do what newlyweds do, and went to sleep.

We got up in the morning, went to the parking spot and noticed the scooter was missing. We both scratched our heads and then looked at eachother and the night started to come back to us.............

So we went and wrote down what we thought in order so we could somewhat piece together what the make the beast with two backs happened.

We went to the scooter shop and told them the scooter was stolen and where we parked it. They called the police, but nothing had been towed matching that description. He pretty much told us scooter theft was high and we were on the hook to pay for this piece of shit. I am enraged. Told him I'd call him in a little bit as I needed to get to the airport to get our rental car.

Wife goes back and packs us up as I take a cab to the airport to get our car.

We are pissed off at this point driving one last time down duval and Tiff goes, "Jud, let's just make one last past and see if we come across it."

I am like "Babe, it's make the beast with two backsing gone, let's leave."

Just then she starts yelling and screaming "THERE IT IS! THERE IT IS!"

sure as shit..........there it was.........parked out in front of Mr Cheapy's liquor store.

It then came back to us as I went through my wallet and found a credit card receipt from a bar right across the street from there.

So I make the scooter drive of shame back to the rental shop and told the guy "Well, we found the scooter. Whoever stole it must have just moved it......."

the guy smirked, laughed and was like "whatever dude, you got drunk and lost it"

My response: Touche

and we left key west quickly.

We were recently back there in March, but we didn't rent from the same spot as I figured there was a huge picture of "DONT RENT TO THIS ASSHOLE"