Editors note: This poor bugger gets hit in the head with a ball of ice, lip split, face swollen and his good pal makes out with his date...some friend!
My friend and I planned to take our dates to this make- out place on a mountain top, but my friend's date got sick, which meant that it was my friend, my date, and me (my friend and I had met our dates the night before). Part of our mountain top journey was that we had to drive on a mountain fire road, and snow had fallen the night before.
Of course all the party animals and 4X4-ers were out that same afternoon enjoying the snow and drinking beer; somehow, though, as we drove along the mountain road, some ace managed to throw a ice-ball through my open window, and the ice-ball hit my cheek and mouth.
The ice-ball gave me a fat, bloody lip, and a swollen cheek, which meant no making out; my date decided to go at it with my friend (that was 30 years ago, and for the record I am still close with my friend). Fortunately, I was able to make use of the abundant snow and make a compression pack to at least minimize my cheek swelling.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Jabba The Putz
Editors Note: Yet another classic from the archives. I may make this a Classis weekend extravaganza...you've been warned.
This story is entirely true! I had been talking to this guy via an AOL chatroom (I know I was pathetic) and he seemed nice although he stated he didnt have a picture of himself but described himself as tall, blonde with a couple of tattoo's. Normally, I am not caught up in appearances as I think personality is more important, so I didnt really press the issue of not knowing exactly what he looked like.
This story is entirely true! I had been talking to this guy via an AOL chatroom (I know I was pathetic) and he seemed nice although he stated he didnt have a picture of himself but described himself as tall, blonde with a couple of tattoo's. Normally, I am not caught up in appearances as I think personality is more important, so I didnt really press the issue of not knowing exactly what he looked like.
After talking for a few months, we agreed to meet up and go catch a movie together. I live in the North bay area and he lived in the East bay, so I told him I would drive over there and pick him up at his job and we would go to the movie theater from there. So I drive an hour and a half over to where he worked, keep in mind I STILL dont know what he looks like, and walked into the store (he worked as a manager for a retail store) and I went up to the counter and asked if ...... was there. The guy behind the counter looked suprised and went to go get....... who was in the back room.
When ...... finally came out from the back room and I saw him for the first time, I wanted to RUN out of there. This guy weighed about 500 lbs. He was HUGE! But stupid me was too polite to haul ass out of there in front of his co-workers and embarrass him so I waited politely as he grabbed his stuff and got ready to leave the store, meanwhile his coworkers were joking around with him that I was his hot new girlfriend. I stood there totally self conscious and embarrassed.
THEN, after placing his immensely huge body in the passenger side of my car, which took awhile since he had to move the seat all the way back and push the back of the seat all the way down to squeeze into my car, we went to the movie theater, and I have to say I was extremely grateful I was in a town where I didnt know anybody.
We got our tickets and went to sit down and personally I hate sitting in the front of the theater because the screen is so big, I have to look up and it hurts my neck after awhile, but this guy was so big, he couldnt make it up any stairs and the front row had seats that allowed the arm rests to come up so he could fit in them so we had to sit up there in the front row.
When the movie trailers started he started getting fresh with me and putting his hand on my leg, which I was suprised since I wasnt even acting interested in him in the first place, so I immediately picked his hand up off my leg and pushed it away. He just laughed a bit at this and put his big sweaty arm around me and this is when I got up, and grabbed my purse, saying I have to go to the bathroom, and walked down the isle and was on my way out the door when I hear this THUD sound and everyone in the movie theatre gasping.
I turn around to see ...... on the floor. It looked like he attempted to follow me down the isle of seats, but got caught in between the row and fell down, and was now stuck down there trying desperately to get up. I could hear all these other people in the theatre laughing and whispering at him, and so I just kept going like I didnt see a thing and walked out of the theater, and to my car, and just hauled ass out of there, leaving him there.
I think that was a pretty mean thing to leave him there, and I felt bad afterwards, but at the time I was so panicked, I couldnt help it.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
If the Spew Fits...
Editors Note:Another repost from the archives:
I very rarely drink hard booze but on my first visit to my new boyfriends parents house, whiskey was all the Dad served...long story short, couldn't find the bathroom, did find my boots
(by the door), threw up into them, put them on, and asked to be taken home. Never saw the guy again and no kiss goodnight either...hmmm must not have liked my cologne.
Now my friends story is worse. The combination was beer, a very , very small bladder, very, very big house and bad directions to the bathroom. She ended up in the laundry room and as she explained "There was just no time left, I HAD to go!" So she lowered her panties, hiked up her skirt and tried to daintly "perch" on the side of the laundry room sink...after the loud crash, the whole family (grandparents too) rushed in to find my friend drunk, on her butt, skirt up by her head, panties by her ankles and lying amidst the remains of a broken sink! It must be love, because, amazingly, they invited her back!
I very rarely drink hard booze but on my first visit to my new boyfriends parents house, whiskey was all the Dad served...long story short, couldn't find the bathroom, did find my boots
(by the door), threw up into them, put them on, and asked to be taken home. Never saw the guy again and no kiss goodnight either...hmmm must not have liked my cologne.
Now my friends story is worse. The combination was beer, a very , very small bladder, very, very big house and bad directions to the bathroom. She ended up in the laundry room and as she explained "There was just no time left, I HAD to go!" So she lowered her panties, hiked up her skirt and tried to daintly "perch" on the side of the laundry room sink...after the loud crash, the whole family (grandparents too) rushed in to find my friend drunk, on her butt, skirt up by her head, panties by her ankles and lying amidst the remains of a broken sink! It must be love, because, amazingly, they invited her back!
A Stain In Spain
Editors Note: I've been going through the archives recently and decided that some of the stories were good enough to deserve a second posting, this is one of those:
Some years ago. a Welsh friend of mine was visiting the Spanish resort of Majorca where one morning he met a young French girl, also on vacation. They hit it off immediately and spent the day together laughing, drinking and seeing the sites. Later, after a very filling, spicy Spanish meal...and lots of Sangria, the time seemed right and he invited her back to his hotel. Arm in arm, they strolled along the beachfront to the rear of the hotel where, as a shortcut, he decided to climb over a small fence at the rear of the property. Always a gentleman, he helped the young lady over first and then attempted a manly, one handed vault to join her on the other side...it was at this point, in midair, that his bowels betrayed him. As if the loud sound (we've all heard the stepped on duck analogy) wasn't bad enough. The unmistakable feel of a growing stain in the rear of his white, linen pants, plus the look of horror on his ladyfriends face, told him the date (like the stain) was at an end.
Some years ago. a Welsh friend of mine was visiting the Spanish resort of Majorca where one morning he met a young French girl, also on vacation. They hit it off immediately and spent the day together laughing, drinking and seeing the sites. Later, after a very filling, spicy Spanish meal...and lots of Sangria, the time seemed right and he invited her back to his hotel. Arm in arm, they strolled along the beachfront to the rear of the hotel where, as a shortcut, he decided to climb over a small fence at the rear of the property. Always a gentleman, he helped the young lady over first and then attempted a manly, one handed vault to join her on the other side...it was at this point, in midair, that his bowels betrayed him. As if the loud sound (we've all heard the stepped on duck analogy) wasn't bad enough. The unmistakable feel of a growing stain in the rear of his white, linen pants, plus the look of horror on his ladyfriends face, told him the date (like the stain) was at an end.
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