Mangled Hand & The Sensitive Gamer

Side note: Not going to blog about last night because, honestly, he was such a nice guy. He was cute, and sweet. So, there’s that. However, in keeping with the tradition of updating my blog weekly… ENJOY.

When: Halloween.
Who: Me, Shine, Marktard, Kramer, and Unk.
Where: Some random warehouse party in Birmingham.

I am dressed as kind of like, a dark angel sort of thing. My costume is your gold standard of girl costumes. A slutty black dress, fishnets, hooker boots, and of course, the accessory (otherwise I would have just been a slut): The black halo and wings.

I am pretty lit. Off alcohol and other unnamed substances.

The party is seriously pretty uneventful, except for mangled hand guy.

I’m walking past this guy, and he grabs my arm. Strong-arms me, if you will. And he’s actually really hot! But then I feel his fingers, or lack thereof, on my hand. I am so drunk/high that I say, “What the fuck dude!” And jerk away.

My utter disgust does not deter him.
“Accident when I was a kid.”
Me: “Man, it’s like a little midget hand! You could fist me with that tiny hand!

Mangled hand is clearly taken aback, as most are when I say off the wall shit like this, and proceeds to call me shady.
Me: Shady? I’m not shady.
Mangled Hand: If you aren’t shady, then give me your number.
Me: I’m going to be honest here. Your hand is kind of freaking me out. Is it a costume?MH: NO! No, it’s real, see…” He touches me with it again.I jump back about ten feet. But I give this guy my number.
MH: I’m going to save you as “Sketch.”
Me: Awesome. I’m saving you as Roy Munson.MH: Like the Kingpin dude?
Me: EXACTLY LIKE THAT.
I start laughing out loud because he gets my joke.

If you look in my phone to this day, Roy Munson is listed right there, under the M’s. Nestled between Matos and No! (Still don’t know whose number that is, but for safety reasons keep it programmed in my phone. I was obviously sending a message to my future self at the time I programmed it. Saying, Future self, when this number comes up on the caller ID, should you answer it? No!)

Anyway, after I straight up Ernie McCracken’d all over Munson’s parade, we dipped out. We left with Kramer and Unk and went to Unks apartment. Ole’ Sketch here started feeling like maybe she wanted a little action.

So I started doing the cursory cell phone scan. I found one that I had hung out with a few times at the bar I used to go to after work. I text him, “Heyyyyyyy.” (3 a.m.)

I realize I’ve just given away my drunken texting habits. So, that being said…if you know me, and receive this text from me any time after 12 a.m. CST, IGNORE IT, unless you want to end up on my blog. Because I will definitely make fun of you.

Anyway. Moving along. I’m calling this guy Gay Pac-Man. I walk into his apartment. And it’s worse than the apartment in the 40-Year-Old Virgin. Toys, some kind of futuristic chair that looks like Dr. Evil’s chair mixed with a dentists chair…only gayer (I come to find out this is a gamer chair). It’s bad.

But this doesn’t stop me. I came here for one thing buddy. And that was to drink your beer, and get some.
But no. Gay Pac-Man does not want to get it on (right away). He turns on (what I thought was) his TV. Not a TV, boys and girls. It was a fucking 50 inch COMPUTER SCREEN. He starts playing Warlock or Warcraft, whatever the hell that game is. Meanwhile I’m sitting there in my slutty costume, high as a mutha, wondering if I am hallucinating this or if it is really happening. IT WAS.

After an hour of watching this douche-nozzle play video games, he gets up from his royal throne of douchery and comes and sits next to me. He starts making out with me, hardcore. And I kind of liked it, because I don’t know where this Alpha Male came from, because he sure as hell wasn’t playing games a minute ago. I tell myself maybe I did hallucinate the gamer, and that yes, this will do.

He asks me if I want to take it to the bedroom. Guess what my answer was?

(FF to 3 minutes later)

He is curled up in a ball next to me.

GPM: I haven’t done that in a while.
(This seems to be the standard excuse for “early ecstasy.” Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that you just wasted my time. You knew I was coming over. You should have prepared yourself.)
Me: mm-hmm.
GPM: That was nice though. Do you like to cuddle?
Me: NO. I roll over.

He literally rolls me back over. We are now face to face.

GPM: Will you hold me?

I am shocked. Because not only do I NOT like cuddling, I most definitely do not want to cuddle YOU. But, I did. Because it was a weird situation, I did not know how to handle it. He flipped over so his ass was towards me, and I was SPOONING HIM. I’m a CHICK, and I was SPOONING HIM.

I wait till he falls asleep. I’m having trouble getting my arm out from under his head. Every time I move it he makes a weird moaning sound. I finally go with the band-aid approach and just yank it out of there. His neck rolls, he does not wake up. (Gaming and premature ejaculation really take it out of you.) I drive back to Unk’s apartment and pick up Shine.

We are both still drunk. We order $40 worth of Krystal’s and pass out in a sea of cardboard boxes.

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.

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!