The first day I got to Washington state for the Navy, I was put in a barracks because the ship was out to sea and wouldn't be back for another two weeks.
During the day we had to wake up, report to muster, and basically go back to sleep until 7 am the next day, where we would do it all again.
It was me and about 12 other kids --and if you've ever been in the military or know someone who has, basically that means a fucking bingefestival. You don't know anyone, you have this mildly retarded haircut thats still growing out from bootcamp, and you actually have a little money in your pocket.
The agonizing question of what to buy with said money is really not agonizing at all. Alcohol! We had two weeks of freek-dom and we were going to party hardy.
The first night at the "gazebo" (where all the cool kids smoked) I met B the garbageman. That wasn't really his title. All I know is that months later when we were out to sea, he was the ships fucking garbageman. His job everyday was sorting 5000 peoples trash to make sure nothing that didnt belong in the ocean got dumped. If that is not a FML, I dont know what is. But, back to the story.
B and I hit it off and *surprise, wait for it* ......
we slept together. A lot.
It actually turned into about a 2 month long gettingiton-ship. It could not be called a relationship. No dates, and the only time we talked about "us" and "feelings" was when we were schwasted.
One night, a bunch of us decided to go out to Seattle, just a 20 minute ferry ride away. B, two of his friends (one named BUCK) and one of my friends make the trek. Before leaving, B and I had gone in Albertsons and bought a 2 pack of those disposable Kodaks. (Yes, it was 2004, but digi cams were (and still are) a liability for me)
(side note: The word FUN should be removed from this packaging. And replaced with "Life Ruining")
One night, a bunch of us decided to go out to Seattle, just a 20 minute ferry ride away. B, two of his friends (one named BUCK) and one of my friends make the trek. Before leaving, B and I had gone in Albertsons and bought a 2 pack of those disposable Kodaks. (Yes, it was 2004, but digi cams were (and still are) a liability for me)
(side note: The word FUN should be removed from this packaging. And replaced with "Life Ruining")
We were going to see who could take the funniest, weirdest, most fucked up pictures. In hindsight, maybe an identifying mark on the camera would have saved each of us a lot of humiliation. Maybe if I had scratched a small S on the corner of mine, or a B on his, for when they were both tossed into my purse later. Maybe some precautionary measures. The beauty of hindsight.
What was supposed to be a promising night of $2 dollar you-call-its and meaningless sex with my fuck buddy turned super lame, super fast. Have you ever had one of those nights where you just can't get there, and when you're not drunk, all the people around you look incredibly retarded and you know if you dont get out of there and into your bed you're going to start punching babies and killing unicorns? Thats how I was feeling. My girlfriend, B's friend Dusty and I got into a cab.
B asked me if I would be waiting for him when he got back.
I looked up at him, with his gelled hair, damp shirt, (dancing machines sweat a lot) and one silver loop earring in his ear that he had to take off back on base because it was against the rules (rebel), and the finishing touch, his B tat slightly visible from his partially unbuttoned shirt. Let me elaborate on the tat. His name started with a B (duh). Everyone called him B. Thats it. Like Madonna kind of, but not one name, just one letter. This tattoo was the very same BEE from the Mickeys 40 oz brand. The fucking bumblebee or whatever the shit it is. How clever dude. A fucking bee on your tit.
(ps. I CANT BELIEVE I FOUND THIS PICTURE! Its not actually him, but to know that some other dumb toolbag in the world has this shit on their body... It amazes me. But yes. Aforementioned tattoo on the tit.)
me: "No. Not tonight. Sorry."
(ps. I CANT BELIEVE I FOUND THIS PICTURE! Its not actually him, but to know that some other dumb toolbag in the world has this shit on their body... It amazes me. But yes. Aforementioned tattoo on the tit.)me: "No. Not tonight. Sorry."
B and I fizzle out a couple of weeks after that.
******Fast forward to 3 months later
I am at a keg party in Silverdale, WA with the guy I actually ended up in a "relationship" with for almost 3 years. It is one of our first dates. My cell rings and it is Albertsons letting me know I have a roll of film waiting to be picked up. It had been there for months and i'd forgotten about it.
I ask Mr. O to accompany me to the store and pick them up. (It seemed like a good idea at the time)
When we get there its about 9 pm and there arent many people in the store. There are 5 employees behind the photo counter looking at pictures when we walk in. When they spot me and O striding over, the scatter like cockroaches.
"I'm here to pick up some photos? You guys called me?" I give them my last name. The employees who scattered are still watching us like hawks.
Photo lady: Oh YES! WE HAVE YOUR PICTURES!
I dont know what to think about her enthusiasm. I mean, the camera was filled up with shots of me and the people from the Seattle night. At the bar. Yes, the goal from the night we got the cameras was "crazy pictures", but I dipped early. Nothing crazy happened. I decide that this bitch was pissing me off.
I ask Mr. O to accompany me to the store and pick them up. (It seemed like a good idea at the time)
When we get there its about 9 pm and there arent many people in the store. There are 5 employees behind the photo counter looking at pictures when we walk in. When they spot me and O striding over, the scatter like cockroaches.
"I'm here to pick up some photos? You guys called me?" I give them my last name. The employees who scattered are still watching us like hawks.
Photo lady: Oh YES! WE HAVE YOUR PICTURES!
I dont know what to think about her enthusiasm. I mean, the camera was filled up with shots of me and the people from the Seattle night. At the bar. Yes, the goal from the night we got the cameras was "crazy pictures", but I dipped early. Nothing crazy happened. I decide that this bitch was pissing me off.
me: Well, that is fantastic. Can I look at them first please?
She shoves them over to me. O is standing behind me trying to get a look because everyone's reactions have him more than a little curious.
The first 15 or 20 are "normal." Shots of us before the bar, shots of us taking shots at the bar, etc. It is when I get to shot 21 things start looking fucking weird. Its B and Buck posing with a black man who is trying very hard to look like a woman. They are in a parking deck. Weird, I think. Must have happened after we left them that night.
But I keep browsing. The next one is just B and the black dude.
The next one is... HOLY SANTA CLAUS SHIT! B's D is in that guys M! WTF!
He is seriously being fellated by this black dude... and Buck, fucking BUCK IS TAKING PICTURES OF IT! Pictures 23-27 were B getting head. From this black dude. With Buck taking pictures of it. My face is burning hot. I start stammering. O is behind me still, but slowly backing away.
Me: These are not mine!
Lady: Oh honey, we get that all the time! Its okay what you do in private!
Me: No shit, they are not mine. I realize it looks bad that i'm in most of these pictures, but this guy had the same camera as me, and they must have gotten switc---
I realize my story looks very bull-shitty. The lady is giving me this smile that is pissing me off because for some reason she thinks I look like the type of girl who photographs gay interracial dick sucking in my spare time.
Me: These are not mine!
Lady: Oh honey, we get that all the time! Its okay what you do in private!
Me: No shit, they are not mine. I realize it looks bad that i'm in most of these pictures, but this guy had the same camera as me, and they must have gotten switc---
I realize my story looks very bull-shitty. The lady is giving me this smile that is pissing me off because for some reason she thinks I look like the type of girl who photographs gay interracial dick sucking in my spare time.
I pay for the pictures and leave.
I explain the whole situation to O, who actually knows B, and we head back to the party. I could not just sit on this information. It was like someone had told me where Hoffa's body was found. I HAD TO SCREAM IT FROM THE HILLTOPS!
When we got back, O and I were like little highschool girls showing everyone who would look the pictures. People were even taking pictures OF THE PICTURES with their cell phones. It got out of control.
That Monday, back on the ship, O and I are in the smoke pit when fucking B walks in. B and I were not really friendly but we didnt hate each other. He walks over to me and bums a lighter. I'm looking incredibly smug. I'm trying to read his face to see if he's heard yet. Nothing.
That Monday, back on the ship, O and I are in the smoke pit when fucking B walks in. B and I were not really friendly but we didnt hate each other. He walks over to me and bums a lighter. I'm looking incredibly smug. I'm trying to read his face to see if he's heard yet. Nothing.
I want to bust out in song about his gaycapades but instead I remain calm.
"I think we got our cameras mixed up."
It takes him a minute to remember, but I see the flash of recognition in his eyes.
B: I still have yours. We can trade back.
Me: Yeah, about that. I developed yours.
O chimes in at this point: EVERYONE SAW DUDE!
B glares at me for what seemed like an eternity. O is laughing. B never spoke another word to me after that. But, seriously, what could he say?
B: I still have yours. We can trade back.
Me: Yeah, about that. I developed yours.
O chimes in at this point: EVERYONE SAW DUDE!
B glares at me for what seemed like an eternity. O is laughing. B never spoke another word to me after that. But, seriously, what could he say?
"Sorry, S, I was going to sleep with you that night, but since you shot me down, I went to the next best thing, a black man dressed like a woman in a parking deck."
I ruined B's chances of ever getting any pussy on or near that ship for years to come.
Sorry dude. Maybe next time give it a little thought before you decide to photo-document your gay black prostitute experience.
I ruined B's chances of ever getting any pussy on or near that ship for years to come.
Sorry dude. Maybe next time give it a little thought before you decide to photo-document your gay black prostitute experience.
A couple of questions remain unanswered to this day:
1. What the fuck.
1. What the fuck.
2. Was money exchanged?
3. WHY WAS BUCK TAKING PICTURES OF IT! (Kiddies, if you're going to do something illegal, offensive, foul or nasty, dont take fucking pictures of it. Seriously. Someone like me will find them. Thats just how the universe works.)
4. and lastly, What the fuck?
