Krankenstein & The Saw Bathroom

In this post, i'm going to introduce you to my friend, Shine. You've heard of her before. It was in her apartment that I fornicated with the lagoon creature. It was her who shamelessly made fun of me about it. (she still does, do you blame her?) But, I digress.

We were, once again, at the infamous Baileys (the scene of most of my crimes). Me, Shine, and Krank are drinking it up. This guy comes up behind me and whispers this in my ear:



"So you're the girl i'm going home with tonight?"

I whirl around and am faced with a problem. See, I have a rule. Well, not so much a rule.. its more like a fact. I don't hook up with asian dudes. Why? I'm not racist (depending on who you ask of course). I have NEVER, not one time met an asian i've been attracted to. I'm not saying I wouldn't ever, but so far I havent seen one i'm attracted to.

But this guy, was the exception to every asian rule. He was tan, tall, and good looking.

me: are you asian?
him: my mom is, but my dad is from cullman.
me: so, you're a yellowneck!


He laughs at my off color joke and I begin to appreciate his beauty more and more. Not only his beauty but this guy was fucking confident. And most girls I know will tell you that is a huge turn on. We start calling him "gaysian" because he dresses so well, was in a feminine profession (can't tell you here, in fear of "outing" him), and I kind of think he was wearing eyeliner (this would be confirmed later). Nonetheless, I was feeling him.

We proceed to make out in the bathroom at Baileys (where my friend snapped a pic of us) before getting kicked out for "inappropriate behavior".




Both my friends (the very same ones who told me the Lagoon Creature was hot) assured me, he was, indeed, hot, and that they would go to his house with me to "party" as he called it. We make the trek to his house that he apparently shares with like, 6 other dudes. Who are all art fags.

Aren't art fags supposed to be like, artsy and clean?
My friends are NOT impressed. They come up to the room with me and gaysian. Gaysian is at this point trying to talk me out of my pants. I did not want to give them up for the following reasons:

1. I still wasn't sure if he was gay, or bi or what.
2. Because I didnt know the answer to number 1, I didn't want to risk getting a case of the aids.
3. his room was straight up STANKA-DOCIOUS.


However, none of the above reasons detered me from making out with him, which is what I was doing when my friends walk in. We somehow get involved in an anatomical discussion about womens velvety love folds, and how they are set up. Krank draws a picture to illustrate but it looks like a fucking shark.

(she had it designed where the uh.. "love button" would actually be in th sharks mouth. Look at it sideways. It still won't make sense, but hey.. when in rome?)

The gaysian at this point, thinks its okay for him to just disrobe completely. So he gets naked. With my friends in the room. He already had his shirt off from our lackluster makeout session. He was showing me his tats. Guess what they were. Asian words. Yep.

He has now dropped trou, to reveal a tiny little gaysian pecker. I try to see if I can see aids on it. (apparently aids is invisible to the naked eye.. crazy) Krank and Shine exit the room, but not before Krank goes in to have a closer inspection of said tinydick, and tells him what she thinks of it. "thats a really little weenie, man."
Krank dates black guys. This hog was not up to standards, for her at least.

Me & gaysian resume making out when I hear Krank & Shine hysterically laughing in the next room, followed by something breaking, and then I hear Shine say, "EEEEEEEEEeeeEeeeEW!"


I decide i'm not into this. After seeing the tiny pehn-is, not knowing if he likes it in the bum, and being straight up disgusted by his house, I tell Gaysian we should hang out another time (lie). I tromp downstairs, feeling somewhat defeated because I wasted like, 6 hours of my life on this guy.

As soon as we get outside, they tell me about his bathroom. The way they describe it was too unbelievable.


me: No way it was that gross.
SK: Yes, it was, you had to see it to believe it. Here, we took a picture.

They pull out a cell phone picture of something comparable to this:


Shine sat down while Krank actually pissed in the toilet full of black plague and shit. They said it smelled like hammered shit logs, cooked rice, and old mayonaise in there.
Shine decided she couldn't even piss on top of it, or hover, so she uses a chair to climb up and piss on the sink (keeping it classy). She breaks the chair. This was the loud noise I heard in mid-make out session. Krank also reveals to me that she stole some of the gaysians make up. Yep. HIS makeup.

Shine and I are caught up in the humor of the whole situation and laughing as we walk past that cop station back behind the Baileys, kind of across from that ATT building. We turn around and realize Krank is a lot more fucked up than we thought she was. She is carrying her shoes and walking with her arms out in front of her. (in front of the cop station)

me: Holy shit! Why the fuck are you walking like Frankenstein!
Shine: Krankenstein! It's Krankenstein! (name starts with a K)

We take off running.

To this day, when I think of a va-jean, I think of a shark.

"Take a look in the mirror, ma'am."

*all names have been changed to protect the parties involved.



It's 2002. Im 19 years old. In my "partying prime", if you will.


My friend df and I meet some guys at a bar in Birmingham and actually become friends with them. There are 8 of them.

Many nights, we find ourselves meeting up with them, drinking, partying, but never humping, which at this point in my life, was kind of unheard of.


One night in June, they invite us to Destin, Fl. We kindly oblige. Whats not to like about the offer? 8 guys who we trust. A suite that is paid for. One of the arguments that really pushed me over the edge was, "you won't have to spend a penny."

I was sold.


We leave Friday morning. DF drives, and i'm in the front, along with 2 of our guy friends (jay and clint) in the back. The rest are behind us. About halfway into the drive, I notice one of the guys, "jay" in the back, acting a little.. "off."


me: whats wrong with you. and why are you wearing those sunglasses? (it was raining).
jay: i'm rolling. im rolling balls.
clint: we ate, like, 6 rolls each.


at this point, he pulls out a flintstones vitamin bottle (like THAT wont be suspicious to the cops) and opens it. It literally has, over 100 rolls in it. I realize this trip could either be really GOOD, or REALLY bad.


We finally arrive in Destin after a one hour delay at the rest stop. (everyone was puking.) I had never rolled before. Everyone else was. I felt I had NO choice. I pop two. We go to a bar, i use my awesome (and by awesome I mean, it only worked if there was a male bouncer and I popped a nip out or something) i.d. and get in as 21.


After about ten minutes i'm getting pretty antsy because I dont feel anything. I go to the bathroom to pee. The lights are fucking BRIGHT. I turn to the girl next to me.


"ARE THESE LIGHTS REALLY BRIGHT TO YOU OR IS IT JUST ME? IT MIGHT JUST BE ME BUT MAN THESE LIGHTS. ARE BRIGHT. WOOOOO!"


She looks at me like i'm an insane person. Maybe because I yelled it. After I realized I was yelling I clapped my hand over my mouth like i'd just blasphemied God. I turn back around. I realize I need to hurl. BAD. and IMMEDIATELY. I am slinging people out of the way like i'm pushing for the end zone. I dont make it to the stall. I puke on some girls shoes. I yell "date rape" because I think its safer than yelling i'm on drugs. I dont even wash my face. I wipe it on my shirt. I'm definitely feeling those 2 pills now.

I am on the dancefloor after this, and in my head i'm groovin better than anyone out there.



In hindsight, that was not the case at all. I did the Carlton and tried to make it look sexy. I was dancing to some crazy techno that was only going in my head, because the bar was playing Buffet.

A few minutes later, the manager comes up behind me and starts escorting me out. He is whispering to me that date rape is a huge problem and that if I know who did it, to please let him know and not get the cops involved. I have no idea what he is talking about until the next day.


My friends are out ten minutes later. I tell them I feel like there are fire ants crawling on my face. I am swatting at it.
Back in the hotel room, Clint tries to hook up with me. I puke on him.


The next day, we all sleep until at least 5p.m. We wake up, ready to go. We all eat Flintstones and start drinking. Jay pulls out a huge box of whippets (sp) and I am fascinated at the way my voice is all the sudden deep.




I walk around saying, "I am the ding a ling king."


Jay is pelting the guys who are sleeping with empty whippets. HARD. Its one of the clearest memories I have of the trip. I couldnt even try to convey to you how hard he was throwing them. But he was winding up before each toss. So... it was traumatic.


DF and I decide our friends are lame and we go walking on the beach. We find a guy with a briefcase. It doesnt strike us as strange at the time. Usually, when someone opens a briefcase like that it is filled with green.. CASH. This was one was filled with green WEED. He is our new best friend.

I tell him that I want his shirt because I am cold.

Hours later, DF and I are passed out on those wooden chairs they come and put the cushions on during the day and rent out to you for an insane price.

The hotel staff is trying to wake DF & I up. They tell us to get up, but instead we are gripping the wood for dear life. He picks up the unit we're sleeping on, to literally, EJECT us off of them but we hold on. It is standing up completely. Our toes are hanging 3 inches from the ground. We finally take the hint and head towards the hotel we are in front of.

DF crashes on a chair by the pool. I want to lay on something, cushioney. I pick a car in the parking lot, and crawl in the back seat.



I am awoken about 20 minutes later to a cop pulling me out. A family with small children is standing behind him.



cop: what are you doing??
me: just wanted to sleep.
cop: is this your car?
me: i thought it was.


The cop mutters something to the family and is strongarming me back to the hotel (that i'm not staying in.)


cop: how old are you?
me: 25 *lie*
cop stares at me for a long time. He is disgusted. His eyes come to rest on my shirt.
cop: 25? You need to take a loooooong look in the mirror ma'am.



at this point I look down. I am wearing a spider man t shirt. The guy with the briefcase gave me a fucking spiderman shirt. I am fugged out of my mind, its 9 a.m. and I am being led to my "room" by a cop.

I start sobering up a little.

Cop: Where is your room?
me: 12th floor. (please let there be a 12th floor)

at this point, I see DF by the pool. She looks ROUGH. She spots me. Then the cop.

me: HEY LOOK THERES MY FRIEND!
cop: THAT girl?
I run to her with open arms. The cop is looking at us like we are two homeless people trespassing. At this point, we were.

cop: You girls need to just get out of here. I'm going to turn around. In ten seconds you need to be gone. I don't even want to START to deal with this.

DF & I catch a cab back to our ORIGINAL hotel. I still have the shirt.

Lagoon Creature

2007.

The place? The dearly departed Baileys.
The culprits? 2 of my "friends." and one other, who will be called "Lagoon Creature"

Factors involved that led to this heinous oversight: alcohol and a sticky icky green substance

Friends, this night I had on what you might call a pair of goggles. Really, really thick, smoke-beer filled goggles. Everyone at Baileys was lookin alllllllriiiight to me. And come on. Half the dudes in Baileys, more times than not, are a bit questionable. Do they shower? How long has he had those pants on? Is that DOODOO on the back of his shirt? Did he sit in something? And are those dreads on purpose, or did they just happen? Baileys is DARK anyway. The odds were stacked up against me.

I'm rocking out to Earthbound. Probably dancing like a fool. This guy comes up behind me. I turn around, and might as well be staring at Fabio! I'm thinking, WOW! The hottest guy in Baileys is definitely talking to me right now! We take a seat at a side table and start talking about everything. We're really spilling guts to each other.

Creature: I like your chacos.
me: I like your shirt.
me: and your hair. how its all messy.
Creature: yeah, your eyes are, this amazing green color.
me: (swooning) Your eyes are, are...

He stops me at this point with a kiss. Kids, I dont make out in public. I dont condone public displays of affection. They make me sick. Sometimes, even hand holding bothers me. So the fact that i'm making out with this guy should tell you, I was INTO him. People were disgusted. Later, I would find out why. But not soon enough.

I go to the bathroom with my friends.

Me: Did you guys see Creature? Is he not awesome!
friends: staring blankly at me.

I see the corners of their mouths twitching. At the time, I could not see this was restrained laughter.

me: Be happy for me! Say something! I'm taking this guy home. For sure.
friends: oh, yeah.. (pause). You TOTALLY should.

Jealous bitches! I thought. Just mad that i'm hooking up with the hottest guy here. Whatever. I totally ditch my friends and continue my drunk making out. Pretty soon, everyone is ready to leave and we all pile in friend#1's car and head back to her apartment. I bring the Lagoon Creature with me. We make out in the back seat the whole way home. There is also major gropeage going on. My friends are laughing. I dont put it together that they are laughing at me. At the time, I thought they were telling funny jokes. Really, really, hilariously fucking funny jokes.

We reach friend#1's apartment and he & I immediately go into the extra bedroom with the twin bed. Just the right size for GETTING.IT.ON. And thats what happens. We get it on. I would like to give you more detail, but my mind has blocked it out. Kind of like trauma victims, you know? Sometimes things are so painful to remember your body just says, fuck it, get out of here, bad memory.

The next morning, my sneaky bitch friend comes in the room.

"GOOD MORNING LOVEBIRDS~!"
me: ufhhhmmmmmmmmm (unintelligible, still drunk grunt)
friend: I have to go to work! You coming? (we worked together at the time.)
me: tell them ill be there later. I gotta take creature back to his car.

As soon as she leaves, I hop up and get in her bed. Its big and comfy and I was feeling a little shameful. I sleep for 30 more minutes. I go to wake him up.

"Hey, creature! Its time to go. Come on. Get up."
He rolls over. Opens his eyes. But something strange is happening here. I turn away. I couldn't process it while looking at him. I'm also hoping maybe since he had JUST opened his eyes, maybe they had to adjust or something.

creature: Come get back in bed for a minute.

I slowly look over at him. His eyes are open. And those motherfuckers are CROSSED.

I start panicking. I start thinking about all the people I saw last night. All the people that saw ME. and this crosseyed motherfucker. MAKING OUT. A memory of me telling friends how i'd met this great guy. A memory of me trying to compliment his eyes but getting cut off by his tongue down my throat. That sneaky bastard. He probably thought he was the luckiest fucker alive!

me: no. no. come on. we gotta go. NOW.

I'm talking in a really high pitched voice. It was involuntary. And I was talking really fast. I couldnt look at him. I seriously did not look at him ONE time, from Alabaster to Homewood. Except when we pulled into his complex. I looked over just one more time, to make sure he had googly eyes. YEP, still crossed.
At this point he had probably gotten that I had sobered up and the ruse was up! He didnt make it weird. He got the hell out of my car and slammed the door, and I peeled out of there.

At work, said friends were sitting there WAITING for me to walk in. As soon as I walked in, they lost all composure.

friends: did you drop loverboy off? Whens the wedding! Your kids will be so fucking cute!
me: eat a dick. no, eat lots of dicks.
friends: did you eat some dick last night? Cross eyed dick?

I walk away. We laugh about it later. They got me. I got GOT. I thought this was the last I would see of the creature. I was wrong.

FF to Oct 2008. It's the night of the Phil Lesh & Friends/Allman Bros concert. THere are a few of us going and we have a hotel room to party in. After the show, we decide we want to get our minds a little more twisted. One friend suggests a substance that shall remain nameless. None of us have any. Another guy says, "I know this guy. Hes cool. Hell bring it here."

30 minutes later there is a knock on the door. I beebop over, excited.
Guess who is on the other side.

THE FUCKING LAGOON CREATURE.

creature: hey, I know you from somewhere!
me: MM.. nope. Dont think weve ever met.
creature: No, I KNOW i know you from somewhere. Ill figure it out.

shit, shit, shit, i'm thinking. I'm actually with a guy I like this night. And of all fucking nights. The lagoon creature moonlights as a drug dealer. Guess his modeling day job doesnt pay him enough. A couple of hours later he comes up to me, as i'm sitting next to the guy I actually DO like on the bed.

creature: I figured out how i know you.
me: Oh (i get highpitched and fast here) really? hmm. Wow I have a terrible memory. Thats cool though good to see you again okay bye.
creature: I havent even told you.
FUCK.
me: oh, wow, geez (nervous laughter.) Where.
creature: WINKS and walks away.

guy that I like: What was that about?

There was a long silence as I was trying to concoct some elaborate, shitfilled story to throw him off, but for some reason while I was still debating, I just word vomited the truth.
me: oh i fucked him last year.
guy that I like: Hahahah. Thats why I like you! You have a wild sense of humor.


Yes.. yes I do. :)

Why I don't use Bic Pens

Scene: Tiki Bobs. circa 2002.

cast: me, df, and 3 members of the esteemed "Birmingham Vulcans Rugby team"

(other variables include, but are not limited to: A small amount of dankity dank, a few anxiety pills, and lots and lots of crisp, refreshing beer.)

DF & I are sitting at the bar when approached by these three strapping young gentlemen. We all somehow start dancing? And the guy that is pressing his denim boner in my ass to the beat of the music (I'm calling him Bic) whispers (romantically) in my ear:

"Do you want a hit of X?"
me: No, dude. No.
Him: Your friend took one.
Me: Irregardless, no. I'm flyin' high as it is.

Satisfied that I am messed up enough to leave with them, he quits asking me about the x. I don't know what clued him in to my willingness to leave with him. My sitting in his lap, maybe actually publicly groping his denim boner a few times, or me saying, "So, are you driving?"

My friend is into his friend. DOn't really know about the other guy, but who cares, right?
We all leave at about 4 a.m.
We're headed to Gardendale.

We arrive at our destination, a house that smelled like an open grave on the inside, by the way. Me and Bic head up to his room. Somewhere in the course of trying to get each others clothes off as fast as possible and waking up the next morning, I definitely blacked out. I remember him saying something like, everyone is rolling downstairs, come down. I was confused. DId this literally mean, people are rolling their bodies down flights of stairs, or did it mean people were experiencing X, together, downstairs?
You, reader, know the logical answer to that. I, unfortunately, did not. Thats how fugged up I was.
Anyway, I declined.
He said, I'll be back. I have a vague memory of saying something terminator related here, but thats it. Next thing I know, theres sun shining through the curtains.
I still hear techno music playing downstairs. I look at my phone. 8 am. Damn.

At this time, I realize I am naked.
(years later, "waking up naked and lost" will be the numbero uno reason I DO NOT take other peoples prescription medicine)

Okay. I can only surmise one thing at this point. I hooked up with the guy. Not my best moment, I know, but I just want to get out of there. The walk of shame is on deck. Only.. something is wrong when I move. SOMETHING IS BAD WRONG.

Yeah. Theres something in my butt.
It moved with me when I rolled. I feel around. Something familar. I pick up the phone. Call my friend, hoping to GOD shes still there. She answers.

DF: you must be ready to go.
me: Get up here.
DF: we're still partying!
me: GET.UP.HERE.

I hear footsteps and my breathless friend bursts through the door, Kramer style. She looks rough. But she doesnt have anything wedged in her ass, so shes doing a lot better than me.

DF: WHAT!
me: Theres something in my butt!
DF: (loses all self control and starts laughing hysterically) WHAT!
I show her the culprit. It's a motherfuckin' bic pen.

DF: YOu had an INK PEN, in your ASS?
me: Yep.
DF: Like, cap deep?
me: no, but definitely to this point (halfway in, people) I want to get out of here. Call a cab, walk downstairs, and dont say SHIT to anyone.

DF is fascinated. How did it get in there? Did he put it there? Did I roll onto it? We quickly eliminate the last option because physics wouldnt allow it.
Someone came up, after I was blacked out and put this in my butt, yo.

We sit for about 10 minutes and wait for the cab. Once we see that golden yellow savior pull up to the house, i'm literally, "rolling down the stairs" trying to get out of there, but also praying DF doesnt say shit. The Lord was not with me that day.

As we're walking out, here are DF's parting words.
DF: AND DONT THINK WE DONT KNOW YOU STUCK A PEN IN MY FRIENDS ASS!

Open Letter to the baby powder lady.

This is the second time you've had a baby powder explosion in the bathroom. The location of the baby powder bomb (directly in front of the toilet) leads me (and the others who've seen it) to believe you put this on your lady parts. I have a couple of questions for you...
1. Why?
2. Why don't you FUCKING clean it up.

We know who you are, because the first time it happened, we did some covert ops in the office and examined EVERY woman we saw who works here.. and guess what… you had it all over your skirt.

It's got to be your kitty. Does it stink? Are you chaffing? Is it not something you could do AT HOME? Quite frankly, it grosses me out that the residue that's left on the floor came floating down from your cooter. What else is laying in that dust, pubes? God knows what else if you're putting baby powder on it.
I don't want to step in that shit. Do you do it while you're sitting down? I mean, it's kind of a weird angle to do if you're standing up, I guess, you'd kind of have to throw it on there, but that's producing a really unpleasant (and at the same time, hilarious) mental picture. I even tried to do it.
I mean, I was sitting, hovering over the toilet and throwing imaginary powder at my va-jeen. And does it not creep out of your panties? Do crackheads follow you around thinking they've hit the goldmine? Do you sprinkle that fucking fairy dust everywhere? So many unanswered questions, and I can't ask to your face. That's a bit intrusive, "Hey, why do you throw baby powder on your nu-nu?
Anyway. Just stop doing it in the bathroom. And, really... I hope your puss is okay.

Fupas-A Growing (literally) phenomenon

FUPA: (lifted from Urbandictionary.com)
Acronym for "Fat Upper Pubic Area"; common misinterpretations include "Fat Upper Pussy Area," "Fat Upper Penile Area" ..gut roll on a woman, aka the double bubble, mini ass in front...a FUPA is characterized as fatness stored in the area between the genetalia and the belly button. Also characterized by incessant sweat marks left on clothing and the dank smell that only a true FUPA can have.

I have also heard it called "booty do" meaning.. "the front sticks out farther than the booty do." Or, a "gunt".. a mixture of the gut and the cu.. well.. you know.

Anyway.What inspired me to write this blog is that it seemed today at the Riverchase Galleria in Birmingham, Alabama, that Fupa Festival 2009 was going on. Everywhere I turn, fupa. I'm sorry if you have one, or know and maybe love someone who has one. I'm sorry. I think it's disgusting and if I offend you, you don't have to read my blog. But man, WHAT THE HELL IS EVEN inside a fupa?

It could store some serious product. You could smuggle drugs across the border. They don't do fupa checks.

Another thing i've noticed is that people who have fupas choose to wear clothes that accentuate the fupa. IE, sweatpants, mom jeans... I even saw a fupa today that went above and beyond any i'd ever seen. It hung down, completely covering this woman's pubic area, down to about 5 inches above the knee. I know at my highschool, that was the legal length for a skirt. She could have come to school naked, lets put it that way. Her fupa covered all things woman. It led me to coin a new term. "Hopa." Hangs over the Pubic Area.

I mean, I can't even imagiane the hygiene that goes along with maintaining a healthy fupa, or hopa for that matter. If you were a man and wanted to make love to this woman, you would have to literally LIFT it up. Anyway. I just wanted to put out a little fupa awareness. We all know they are there. They really shouldn't be tolerated, but hey, what can you do?

Dear Miss Lady

Dear Miss Lady at the Gas Station:

Is there some occupational prerequisite that says you have to be a miserable bitch in order to work there? It's not my fault you're a morbidly obese retard with no fashion sense, so please don't take it out on me. Yeah, my id is expired. In order to get a new id, I would have to go stand in line at the DMV for 3 hours. I don't have time this week, didn't have time last week, and won't have time next week. However, that's none of your business and, if you want to make a big deal out of it, you should apply for a job at the fucking DMV. that way you can sit on your enormous ass all day long and stuff your face with whatever it is you stuff your face with (i'm guessing bologna and mayonaise by the way you smell). if you ever want to get laid by someone other than a sweaty budweiser soaked redneck, i would suggest you starve yourself for at LEAST two weeks and do something with your hair that doesn't scream " i went to see White Snake on my sweet 16." seriously, that cut never looked good, not in 1987 and certainly not now. i understand that approaching forty with all of your hopes and dreams in the toilet must be embittering. waking up in the morning only to see your idiot husband and a sagging, blotchy manatee in the mirror would do that to almost anyone.i'll take this last moment to thank you for supporting nascar and the KFC all these years, and for exerting all the authority and control your position grants you. stop eating and start drinking heavily because you really deserve it.
love-
the girl you wouldn't sell a pack of camels to.

Let's call it an experiment.

My friend and I are about to engage in a groundbreaking experiment..

Operation: Just Say Yes

The concept is simple. We're going to say yes to every date we're asked on. Now, in an ideal world, there would be an abundance of "real-life" guys askng me out. Not the case. I probably get asked out a few times a month, and if you've read the Tiger Shirt blog, you know how that turns out. Fortunately, those are the results we want. If a date is going to bad (chances are, it will be!) then why can't it be entertaining!

So, as I was saying, in an ideal world i'd have dates lined up like it was my job. But we don't live in an ideal world and we joined a dating site.
Minutes after joining, my inbox is full of grade A meat.
If I were joining this website with the intent of ACTUALLY finding love, i'd have some ground rules. Such as:

1. Grammar/spelling mistakes automatically disqualify you.

2. Owning a cat: Disqualified. *I would make exceptions only if you were incredibly, supernaturally good-looking, and, even then.. it would be iffy.

3. No picture (you're out, buddy.)

Those are the three major ones, but in this case, those rules obviously go out the window. If anything, the lack of rules in this situation makes the experiment more interesting.

I posted a pretty basic profile, with pictures, likes, dislikes, etc. Stay tuned.

TIger Shirt Mcgee

Ah. My date last night. It was horrible enough to warrant a blog.

Yes, it was one of those.
I met this guy a couple of weeks ago at a bar you might know as Marty's. He seemed cool enough. Dressed normally. Jeans, t-shirt, flops. Nothing screamed "CRAZY" at me... so.. he got my number, called me after the standard three day waiting period, and we began a pretty regular talking/texting relationship.

Our first date was last night.
We went for sushi. As soon as he walks up, I'm NOT feeling it. Let me paint you a picture. Button down shirt.. with a graphic of a tiger on the back. And the tiger was lounging on some kind of rock.

He also had on those croc shoes which, i'm sorry, are only okay for little kids.

Believe it or not, i'm a polite person and couldn't just say, alright, i'm bailing.. besides, he's actually good looking.. I decided to give it a go. I tried to order as many glasses of wine as I could. Some things said/done over dinner include, but are not limited to as my brain is still a little hazy from the alkeehol:
him:*I have a suspended sentence now, because my ex girlfriend has a restraining order out on me. I was trying to call her and apologize, but shes just a dumb-bitch. Can't wait til that thing expires. (note to the girlfriend, RE UP THAT R.O, stat!)
Him:*No, i'm not drinking tonight. Wanna be sober when we bone. Well, that and my medication. It makes me black out and do (He pauses for at least 6 seconds, then maniacally giggles) horrible things.

I have had about 5 glasses of wine at this point and am significantly buzzed. Buzzed enough to think, at least we are going to hear a good show after this. Show-uneventful. He suggests some pool. I agree, only because the beer is flowing like honey through the promised land.
me: Racking pool balls.
him: Nice rack!

I let that one slide. Somehow we get on the subject of body hair. I tell him i'm opposed to completely shaved men, that I actually LIKE hair on a man. He tells me that he's covered there because he's hairier than carrot top (I SHIT YOU NOT) down there.The guys behind us are making fun of his shirt. I'm so buzzed that I start laughing, too. I mean, it's never gotten so bad that I'm actually making fun of my date, ON the date!

After pool, we sit at a table to finish our beers. We have a semi-normal/decent conversation about David Gilmour. I feel like I can close this parade down without causing a scene. Heres how that went.
Me: I probably need for you to take me back to my car.
Him: You know, a lot of people call me the human valium (winks)
Me: (blank stare, as I am processing this for a while) Yeah i'm still probably going to need you to go ahead and take me back to my car.
Him: My nipples are pierced.
Me: I hope you're not trying to entice me.
Him: We can go back to my place and watch PF Pulse. Lets do that.
Me: Yeah, I can't. Just if you could just take me back to my car now that would be so awesome.
Him: Hard to get! I like it.
Me: So, about that car ride...
Him: You are kind of making me angry. I dont think you would like me if i'm angry.
Me: (laughs this off, but is very scared and has that scared nervous smile plastered on face)

He does take me to my car.
So we're now doing the awkward sitting in the car in front of my car thing. If the date goes good or bad, this is where I always kill it saying awkward phrases, really, they just spew out of me. I have put them in bold, just for you. Fortunately I did not care what this guy thought at this point because I just wanted to get.in.my.fucking.car.
Him: This has been a great date.
me: One for the history books!
him: Can I tell you something that might freak you out?
me: (oh jesus) Keep on truckin!
him: I'm already thinking about how to make you my girlfriend.
me: It's raining cats and dogs!
him: Turns my face (YES HE TOUCHED ME) TURNS MY FACE toward his)
Me: (high pitched voice) Hoooo! I'm not kissing you. Sorry.
him: I should kill you! Haha just kidding!
Me: Right. Well, zip it up and zip it out! (dave chappelle for those of you who dont know)

I exit the car. Get in mine.
He calls me on the way home.
I do not return the call.the end

Pit Stains McGee

scene: 3 girls sitting at a table at a place which shall remain nameless. Well, we'll call it smuffalo smild wings. karaoke is about to start. We know its going to be good because the guy that is going to sing first is singing a Metallica song and hes already started headbanging his long, disgusting hair. So, we're feelin' it. We're READY. We've got some making-fun of material, we are pumped.. Let's do this thing.

We are already about 5 pitchers in.
2 guys come over to our table. One kind of resembles Matt Dillon from Wild Things, my friend is into him. His friend was fun.. we are conversating.. I could see every muscle underneath his size schmedium shirt. It was not at all unpleasant. *side note: the third friend had at this point began talking to strangers at other tables.

I'm wearing a pink cardigan. Not thick like a sweater, thin, very thin. This doesn't sound relevant, but trust me.. It is. Said guy is making all kinds of intelligent conversation with me.

Him: I'm from Miami, but I live in Calera.
me: Why the hell did you leave there to come here.
Him: Why is the sky blue?
me: *confused, but goes for it anyway.* uhhh, Does a bear shit in the woods?

(I never found out why he moved because our conversation went in the aforementioned direction for a WHILE)*

anytime a really ugly guy walked by he would say, "hey you're boyfriend is here." which was funny.. What was even funnier is that he would point at them and he was talking VERY loudly. The person would hear him. Haha.

Him: (looks deep into my eyes) If you were a booger, i'd pick you first!
me: huge, shit eating grin. (Why, you ask? Because here is what I heard when he said that: "You are stunning, darling. You are intelligent, beautiful, witty and I we should date." *warning: alcohol makes you hallucinate)

At one point I tell him that I think his boobs are bigger than mine. I have a vague memory of some jaeger shots. I start squeezing publicly fondling his muscly man boobs. Haha. I tell him I think he should do a song, topless.

Him: Dare me.
me: Okay, I dare you.
him: I'm going to wear your cardigan, with nothing underneath.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is where I reach what I like to call a FUCKING DILEMMA. I've been sweating this guy. And when I say sweating, I mean literally, I have pit stains. They werent stinky, but wooo boy were they wet. He's trying to convince me out of my shirt. Not the way I wanted this to happen, but man, I want to see him with his shirt off. I was at the threshold! Fuck it, I think. (actually, I think the beer was pretty much doing my thinking at this point) I take off the cardigan.. he goes to the bathroom with it.

me: (to my friends) That guy is about to experience my pit stain wrath.
friends: maniacal laughter... Maybe... laughter.. maybe... maybe he won't... laughter... notice!me: It's not funny! I'm so embarrassed! Listen, the pit stains are.. pretty substantial guys. He's going to notice. Dear God, hes going to NOTICE.

Well, at this point we are all sitting back, waiting for the show. Said friends are laughing, still. I have my head in the pitcher at this point. He's been in there for a long time. One could only deduce it was because he was just, really, in awe of what my pits had produced. When they are they bad theres no way you cant just, respect them.

after an eternity, He comes out of the bathroom in my way-to-small-for him cardigan. Buttoned up. FLEXING HIS ARMS, SHOWING MY PIT STAINS TO THE WHOLE BAR, who, at this point, ARE ALL STANDING UP AND CLAPPING FOR HIM. I hear people asking whos cardigan it is. YEAH. People are noticing the wet spots. He gets up to sing. He's still flexing and doing schwartzneger (sp) poses.

Operation: Take shots and forget about this commences.

The pictures are for your enjoyment and to help illustrate my pain...I hope that my mild humiliation has bettered your day, in some shape, form or fashion. Until next time.