Athena (The Deadliest Catch) # 97-99

06/19/2014 13:22

Athena #97-99


     I have always lived by a phrase that was coined decades ago by some amazing genius, it’s simple, straight to the point and oh so true: “The easiest way to get over somebody is to get under somebody else”. I personally believe that the best rebound dates that you can go on, start with a handshake or a hug, and end with “Plan B”. Unfortunately, for the most part the girl I would “get under” was a complete train wreck and I would regret giving them the D that leads to plan B. I have endured a bevy of stalkers, slappers, biters, BDSM enthusiasts, secretly engaged, openly married, and worse. 

    I end up regretting the ending of a failed long term relationship. Most of the reason was that after being involved with a girl for a while I got used to certain things about that girl and what she likes in and out of bed. I got used to the fact that they know my body and how I like to do things, and i didnt have to try so hard to supress my sexual tendencies. A lot of the time it took a bit of guidance when getting introduced to a new girl sexually, and typically the 9's and 10's don't necessarily catch on to the things that I guide them to do....resulting in what I like to call: “Getthefuckoutofmyhouse-Imdonewithyou syndrome”. Unfortunately that syndrome is also an indicator that I had absolutely no interest in their personality at all and I end up mentally kicking myself square in the kiwis for showing her where I live….Dummy!!!

    This disease can easily be avoided by taking your standards down a notch or two. Instead of bringing home that smoking hot Mexican't or Mexiwon't chick. Take her friend the Mexi-can, or the Mexi-Lemmedothatforyou aka “The quiet, down to earth sober chick”. Sure, it might sound boring....I mean what the hell are you going to do with a sober chick right? Well, my friend; these are the best kinds of girls to take home with you. Everyone has heard the phrase “Watch out for the quiet ones”, or “It's usually the quiet ones that are freaks in bed”. I agree with that statement to a point. The one thing that is usually left out is that you need to pick a “quiet one” that is hanging out with one or more of the obnoxiously hot, loud chicks that demand attention. Once the quiet girl feels as though she is the center of your attention, she will want to brag to her hot obnoxious friend about the guy she went home with that had no interest in the obnoxious hot one(s). She will also try to make a point to be seen with you again. Furthermore; when the obnoxiously hot girl is slated to be present again, the girl that is slightly less attractive will pretty much do anything to keep you coming back.

    This tactic does take a little bit of psychological mastery. Not to say that you need to psychologically turn an acne laden heifer with a goiter farm growing on their neck into something cuter than a box full of puppies, you obviously can't fix ugly with your mind, not with alcohol, not with nothin. So, don't just pick the girl sitting next to the super hot girl just because she is the girl sitting next to the super hot girl. There needs to be at least a small spark of attraction. Now assuming that you have followed the 4 rules of a first meeting, get her to your place and make sure that you have pleased her however she likes it.....for as long as she likes it.


 4 Rules of a first meeting:


1) Let her do the talking. (There is nothing more in life that a girl loves more than talking about herself. Flattery is up there too but if you believe that a diamond is a girls best friend, prepare to spend a lot of time broke, and flaccid.)

2) Hang on to every word as if they were coming from God.                                 

3) Ask appropriate questions only when she is done talking.

4) Slowly make the questions more personal and sexual. If she starts asking questions back, and they are equally if not more personal/ sexual... Game mother fuckin on!! 



Q:  So, what If she brushes you off? 

A: You suck at this, go back to your pocket pussy and internet porn. You obviously can't aim lower than cattle.             Please don't actually fuck cattle!! They have standards too!!


    Inevitably after you have given her the business; she will want to return the favor(she better wan't to return the favor), and since you were such a good sport when you were playing with her, she will pretty much do whatever you want. Get into detail with what you like to do and let her know that it is “the best you have ever had”. After all is set and done, make sure you have treated her to breakfast and proceed to be a perfect gentleman. Then, make up some clever reason why you can't be involved in a relationship. Let her know that everything that she did was perfect, and felt amazing. This will later be relayed to the superhot Mexican't or Mexiwon't friend, and since girls are masters of detail and description; it will dwell on the superhot chick’s fragile little mind until she is given the opportunity to try it out for herself. By the time you have finally gotten the superhot girl alone for a one on one conversation, she has already convinced herself that she is going to make you squeel even harder than the quiet girl, because she already knows what you fine detail.


Game!....uh!!,  Mother, unnnnhhhh!!!! fuckin'!.... ON!    (*humps air madly and slaps invisable ass at hip level)


         Seeds like this are easily planted in the workplace, especially if there is a good ratio of girls to guys. Not to brag, but most of the tail I have gotten in the workplace, I didn't even have to work for. I just got really good at planting seeds...I'm like the Johnny Appleseed of Sequim, Washington.



Athena: Bad date # 97 (The Deadliest Catch)

    Athena is Eastern European. She is from Monte Negro or some such shit. She has dark olive skin, beautiful ocean blue eyes and a perfect body and smile. To be perfectly honest, I actually had no interest in her when I met her, because she was quiet and shy. She had this perfect little gymnast body and a shy almost awkward smile(which I love). She looked at me in a way that said, “I know something you don’t know”. She was a cocktail waitress and I was the bartender so our conversations were short if not non-existent. That was of course, until mechanical bull night at the casino we were working at. This is the one night out of year that all of the Bar and cocktail staff are allowed to dress up like a cowboy or a cowgirl during the event. This was also the night that it became abundantly clear that I had a thing for cowgirls....well, Athena at least.

    I had been successfully avoiding the dating world for several months now, and managed to save a considerable amount of cash in the process. I was still working on the 4 buildings that I had bought 6 or 7 months prior and had been living as a minimalist/ survivalist for the past 3 or 4 months after I rented out the main house to a group of 20 somethings.

Even though I had sworn off dating for financial reasons, there was also the fact that all of my free time was going into the construction of my 3 vacant buildings, and the burden of having to deal with landlord stuff like changing power outlets, fixing toilets, lawn maintenance and dealing with pesky tweakers that were stealing our community firewood. (I'm still patiently waiting for the day that our president declares a national bounty on tweakers....I will be a rich man someday)

    The fact remains that 2 of the buildings didn't have electricity or plumbing, so I was forced to live in the small mother-in-law apartment attached to the garage until the construction was finished on the 2 smaller buildings. Sadly my accommodations for this period in my life were just slightly more flattering than the likes of a solitary confinement Venezuelan prison cell. My kitchen was a mini-fridge on a sawhorse, my bathroom was a 5 gallon bucket in the garage, and my stove was a barbecue in the back yard that my sister got me as a housewarming present. My bed was no longer the plush California king sized bed that overlooked my beautifully landscaped front yard, that seemed to harbor every species of local bird all at one time. There were times when my mom would visit and we would step outside to the overwhelming cacophony of wild birds and lose count of how many species of birds were flying, bathing, and basking in my front yard. Robins, Doves, Hummingbirds, Starlings, Seagulls, Ravens, chickadees, Wrens, Woodpeckers, Flickers, Blue jays, Towhee, sparrows...the list just kept going. It was breathtaking. Although mom had her qualms about the situation...



    I hadn't even fathomed the idea of having company in my cell, let alone actually bring a date over. I was sleeping on a twin mattress on a bed frame that was made somewhere during the Triassic period, and I am a sprawler. The idea of dating made me chuckle a little bit because the accommodations were shabby even for me (who lived in a hut in Alaska with no electricity for 3 months). I couldn't imagine any girl would ever be impressed. If they were to ask where the restroom was located and I promptly pointed out the shitty 5 gallon bucket in the garage, or the Cedar tree in the back yard I would not imagine a standing ovation for deluxe accomodations.

Frankly I was just about as happy as a pig in slop living as a minimalist, but I still wanted some action. I figured that I would eventually meet a girl that had her own place so I could save myself the embarrassment of showing them where I live and my unfortunate living situation.

I played the scenario in my head...

Girl: Where is your bathroom?

Me: *points to small bush in the front yard. “Right there darlin', and don't forget to flush”


Well, I met my match on mechanical bull night. It may have been the first verbal encounter that I ever had with Athena.


Me: Daaaayyyyyyuuuummmm! Ride em cowgirl! I mean, ride ME cowgirl!

A: Haha, your weird!

Me: You are just about the foxiest little country bumpkin I have ever seen!

A: you aren't lookin’ so bad yourself cowboy.

Me: Why thank you Ma'am. *tips cowboy hat*


I stared her down, and she stared me down as I walked from the bar she was working at to the one I was supposed to be working at. We were both walking in opposite directions, but looking right in each others eyes. The club was bumping with a great live country band, so it gave me the opportunity to get really close to her. I turned around and got my arm around her lower torso so I could talk right into her ear.


Me: (In my best John Wayne voice) Ya know darlin’, there is a country bar not too far from these parts, where we could go for a line dance and whiskey.

A: By line dance do you mean cocaine?

Me: I reckon, I might. *winks*

A: I reckon, I might be interested.


    It was then that I made eye contact with my friend Max, who was smitten with this country bumpkin. I realized then that I was breaking the “Bro code”. Max and Athena had dated temporarily and Athena dumped him rather suddenly. She claimed that he was too permiscuous and she didn't trust him to be in a monogamous relationship with her, which made me believe that I would have repelled her instantaniously after she had heard about my stint with the 9 or so cocktail waitresses that I had pushed down before she even started there. Her relationship with Max was incredibly short, but Max was heartbroken over it. The fact remains that Max is a good guy and would have treated her well. I knew that if I moved in on this brazen little tart; Max would inevitably be pissed off at both of us. I gave her my phone number anyways, I had no expectations, and if something were to spark, I figured that Max would get over it...he is after all a bro.

    A few days had gone by and I randomly ran into Athena at the gym of all places...not because I was working out, but because I had bought a year-long membership there before the casino I was working at fucked up and screwed all of it's employees financially. I figured since I was forced to pay the fee,  I would least have a place to shower and take a shit without stinking up my garage. Since I was already there and had my workout clothes on, i decided to actually work out a little bit....Well, more like I pretend to work out as I was creating a spankbank portfolio with Athena's name on it. We only passed a smile and a wink, since we both had our headphones on.

The next day at work, we happened to be the only bartender and cocktail waitress on shift for the first couple of hours. The random gym meeting seemed like a pretty good ice breaker.


Me: So, what kind of workout regimen do you have?

A: I pretty much just do legs and cardio.

Me: Well I could show you a pretty good workout that forces you to use all of your muscles.


Athena looked me right in the eyes as I repeated slowly…


Me: All of your muscles.

A: oh? I might just have to get ahold of you then. *winks*


    A week had gone by and our conversation at work continued to be short if not non-existent. I kind of wrote her off, and it didn’t really bother me until one day when I was in the middle of a bar tending shift.

Athena sent me a text asking what my work schedule was like for the next week. I told her that I had Sunday off and asked if she wanted a workout partner. She replied: “something like that”. I was pretty sure at that point that she meant business.

We met up at the gym around 7pm. It was November so we went into the gym wearing 3 layers and had to change immediately. I had already promised tequila shots to Athena if she could get through the vigorous workout that I had planned for both of us.

    Athena had absolutely no issues with changing into her workout clothes right in front of me. It then became more and more apparent that Athena was becoming more and more my “type”. The gym was completely empty so it wasn’t like we were going to get kicked out for nudity. I actually started to fabricate a pretty solid pickup line to get her to join me in the shower for a private workout before our real workout….however I forgot it and instead; I stood their drooling over her body as she was changing and something childish and cheesy emitted my mouth instead:


“I would go straight up Human centipede on your ass”!


    For those of you who are not familiar with the Human centipede movies..... they are revolting. The first movie is about a German surgeon that is obsessed with the idea of literally sewing 4 humans together and making them his pet. These poor unfortunate souls were drugged and kidnapped to be imprisoned in the surgeons laboratory. He explained to them as a group as they were all bound to their hospital beds about his plans to sew them all together…. (ass to mouth). He would then establish the human centipede as his pet. The movie got relatively in depth about what measures would need to be taken in order to accomplish such a feat, including but not limited to the removal of their kneecaps to deny them the ability to stand, as well as picking 4 hosts that all had the same blood type so when their jaws were broken, their cheeks were cut down to their jaw line and their tongues were removed in order to get a fuller mouthful sewn onto the host link in front of them; their matching blood types would allow them to actually heal together as one being. A Human Centipede. The second human centipede movie was similar however; the second movie involved 13 people, no surgical instruments or sedatives, and it also involved one very graphic scene involving the result after a very inhumane amount of laxative had been injected into the victims. Inevitably, the laxatives worked in a timely manner, and within minutes all 13 victims had to shit something fierce. The poorly sewn ass to mouth stitching stretched the poor victims mouths over the victim in front of theirs’ asshole to the point where diarrhea was seeping through the cracks of the stitch work as the liquid shit packed into their mouths to the point where the unfortunate tail victim could no longer swallow the head victim’s shit any more.


    She chuckled at my remark, and if you the reader are wondering?..... yes, I would have been happy at that moment, having my lips surgically sewn to Athena’s asshole. I felt like Jim looking at Nadia the foreign exchange student in American Pie as she undressed. Perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect smile……perfect. I tried not to stare. I even looked away like a bitch when she dropped her undies down. On normal occasions I would have just been a stumbling stuttering mess, but for whatever reason I wasn’t nervous around her. I continued on with my valiant attempt at showing Athena a very rugged and difficult workout, whilst showing slight general interest in her on a personal level.

    During our text message conversation earlier, she eluded to the idea that she wanted a strictly physical relationship, however I like to think that I am a classy enough guy to at least show some interest in their personality even if it was our mutual understanding that we were just each other’s play toys for the night.

She explained that she had just gotten a degree in toxicology from Western Washington University. Which is second in line for hippiest degrees from the treehuggingest of hippie colleges, following closely behind a micro-horticulture degree aka the “grow better pot degree”. I poked a little bit of fun at her for her life choices, but she was not offended by my humor…which is kind of funny because even I am offended by my humor.


H: So you are into saving the environment then?

A: Ya, I feel like if everyone does their part, the world will be a better place to live for the future.

H: I agree, and I feel like I do my part as much as possible.

A: “Oh, what do you do to help the environment”? (She asked; smiling coyly as she looked right into my eyes with childlike wonderment.)

    I stopped lifting. I looked right back into her eyes.  (I spoke in a monotone voice that would have Ben Stein feeling like an over-caffinated crackhead)

H: I club baby seals with other baby seals to save the trees.



    I winked at Athena and expected a little chuckle. Athena was not impressed, in fact she looked scared.


    I took her around the gym and hit my usual machines and some free weights and showed her the workouts that I like to do. It became more and more apparent that she was losing interest in the workout regimen. I would show her the workout that I do, and she would do like a rep or two and say; “ok, I’m over it”. So, we went to the elliptical machines to wind down and talk about future plans for the evening as well as future plans for life.


    I told her about my experiences with playing in bands all over the U.S. My experiences with traveling, teaching music, and writing. I went off on my future plans to eventually become a great slumlord and own a night club called “Club Baby Seals” without trying to sound too braggy. She explained her plans to become a sugar daughter to a famous millionaire and figure out a way to genetically design puppies and kittens to stay small and cute.


    As it turns out Athena was already a sugar daughter to a semi-famous star of a certain discovery channel reality show. She was explaining the circumstances as we were getting dressed back up into our 5 layers of street clothes to bare the cold air. As it turns out, her sugar daddy is a little bit protective.


H: What would your sugar daddy do if he found out that I was on a date with you?

A: Kill you and use you for bait

H: Really?

A: Yup


As we sat down at the bar next door to the gym and ordered a couple tequila shots. My initial reaction to her claim was fear, but tequila was quickly ridding me of any guilt or remorse for our plans for the evening. I had met her sugar daddy at a celebrity meet and greet at the casino I was bar tending at. He was a rugged and rather intimidating guy. I would imagine that he could throw a punch like a freight train if you pissed him off good enough. This thought dangled in my head like a swollen uvula.

“If anything were to go awry with this little tart, my face may end up in the way of said freight train”.

I figured that I should be on my best behavior to avoid any conflict…however tequila got in the way. There was a guy at the end of the bar sitting quietly by himself; Well, that was until I started talking about the construction projects I was doing on my house. I would start talking about framing and drywall and crap. Then the guy started spouting about his drywall company and how well it was doing. As we were into our own conversation about home décor, John interjected about his “Professional career as a carpenter”. I started to conjure up a rather awesome “fuck off” plan.

“That’s great man, good for you” I said while still looking at Athena. We got onto the subject of music and the bands that I had played with in the past and most recently; the Pink Floyd tribute band that I had been playing the casino circuit with. Once again the guy at the end of the bar injected himself. “have you guys ever been surfing?” he asked with authority. “No” we both chimed back at him. He went off on some story about how he had just been surfing all day in the Puget sound…which is the equivalent of surfing on a lake…in Alaska.

Neither one of us were particularly impressed with his professional achievements, or his hobbies, nor were we impressed with the abundance of interjections on our private conversation. We were both rather annoyed. He continued to spout off about his vast experience in building some of the local “hot spots”. (One of them being the exact bar that we were seated at)


Hef: “Oh, built this place?”

John: Well, I helped work on the interior.

Hef: Well, it looks really good bro....I bet you made a pretty penny off of the deal.

John: Well, actually they haven't paid me yet.

Hef: ouch! How long has it been since you did the renovations?

John: 8 months

Hef: They aren't going to pay you bro.


He had that look in his eyes that was 50/50 fear and regret. He continued to explain that “you don't always win in these situations”. Apparently he had put over $100,000.00 into this building after materials and other hired hands that had helped him throughout the process. John went on to talk about all of the projects that he was involved in and the $100,000.00 hit was no big deal. I coughed the word “bullshit”, and Athena laughed. John started to get a little pissy and tried to get on me about my life’s accomplishments. I simply stated: “ bro, this isn’t a competition…plus you’re like 45”. “I’m 41 BRO!!”.he shot back. He had officially hit my breaking point. I was no longer interested in fucking Athena. All of my energy was going into fucking with this do shit filled douchebag. I have to humiliate this bastard immediately.

I sort of stole half of this idea from the late great Randy Rhoads, and embellished the rest. It's a game I like to call:


"The Drunk D.D"

I know what you're thinking, however; D.D. Doesn't always mean “designated driver”. Fabulous advances in drunk driving technology have become redily available for the general public. For example D.D.2 or the "Designated decoy".

A Designated decoy is the sober friend that has your back if your bar or club becomes infested with badge toting bacon. Some people think that when police officers crowd outside of a bar parking lot and start mass arresting people for DUI that it is entrapment and you can't get in trouble.  Some pigs will wait and pull you over the second you turn your key while actually in said parking lot.  The fact remains that if you get pulled over for a DUI and you are intoxicated....all fantasy aside, youre fucked. So, god bestowed upon us these wonderful friends that will go out to the parking lot and pretend to be drunker than 100 indians on Thanksgiving.  Once they have the attention of the 5-0 They get into their car and peel out of the parking lot, while honking. The trick is that peeling out and honking is not illegal, it just draws attention. The designated decoy will never actually go above the speed limit, he just doesn't waste any time getting up to the speed limit. When the red and blue pig lights peel out after him, the lightly buzzed sippers to the blissfully tipsy drinkers that have been left behind pile into their cars and drive in the opposite direction to avoid "bad bacon confontation" otherwise known as an arrest.

This was a whole new level of avoiding "Bad Bacon confrontations" In this particular case our new friend John had bragged himself into what I like to call...”The Drunk D.D.” (Better known as the “Drunken designated decoy".)

One thing I have noticed in the world of bar tending is that almost any man that drinks alcohol in front of attractive women cannot refuse free booze, especially if there is a challenge involved. So my plan was to get this schmitthead so schmittfaced that he: A) Would no longer have the ability to form full sentences (so he would hopefully stop trying to talk to us) and B) If he did have the inclination to drive, all I had to do was call the cops and tell them that some belligerent drunk was trying to drive from the bar and insinuate that we insisted that he shouldn’t drive before he left. This diabolical scheme kills two birds with one stone; It gets the obnoxious drunkard off of our backs, and gets the cops off of our backs at the same time. They will assume that everyone else at the bar is drinking and driving responsibly (if there really were such a thing).  To be fair…this is a move that you make on someone you actually hate/ dislike. Furthermore; if you pull this diabolical maneuver on someone that you can see anything positive in their psyche, or have the possibility of being friends with in the future…don’t do it!! You will feel like a dick for the rest of your life for getting someone a D.U.I.

In this particular case; I felt no shame. This hombre was a one-upper from the start. There wasn’t a single second within our conversation that I didn’t want to give him the ultimate wedgie drag him outside and leave him hanging by his underpants on the flagpole outside the bar for the world to laugh at. If you could polish a turd, this guy was the polish you would use. At no point in our conversation did we exclaim or even hint at the idea that we wanted anybody else in our conversation; especially some dude that is blatantly trying to steal another dudes chick right in front of him. I played the diabolical; I’m-about-to-fuck-you-over card as best as I could. I stayed calm and quiet as i It seems much easier with “fucking douchebags” for some reason.


Hef: hey bro, how bout I buy you a shot

John: oh hell yeah, I could take shots all night.

Hef: oh right on….a tough guy! I like it.

(Hef's brain: I'm going to humiliate this assbag so bad that he will have to change gender to save face)

Hef: Do you like hornitos tequila?

John: I love hornitos!

Hef: a double hornitos for the fine gentleman at the end of the bar! (I announced to the bartender)

John: oh thanks bro, are you gonna take one too?

Hef: NAH, im good.

Athena: I kinda want one now

Hef: okay….( aimed at metalhead Bartender named Jessie) Jessie! Would it be possible to hook this fine young lady up with a double shot of hornitos as well?

Jessie: Sure thing Hef!

Hef: right on, well lets hook john up with another double to wash down that last “little” shot of tequila.


Naturally the bar tender was offended by having me call him out on “short pouring” the last double that he guzzled. He proceeded to pour an unusually large amount of tequila into a pint glass and said “there ya go Hef, is that enough for ya?” “haha, it’s enough for me, but I’m not doing the drinking tonight. My new friend John is going to show us how it is done. I pointed to the end of the bar at john as he was gagging down the last shot that I Had forced upon him. He actually took the half full pint glass of tequila down like a champ. I don’t want to assume anything, but it felt as though he was just trying to impress Athena. He kept ranting about all his pro-surfing bullshit, and Athena was starting to converse with this assbag. I was pissed and it was time for war!!!!!

I took my beer into the bathroom with me, I drank half of it or so on my way, and then proceeded to piss in it while I held it over the urinal. When I returned, I left the ¾ full beer/piss cocktail in front of me until I convinced Athena to come over to my house and rent a movie that we wouldn’t even watch. The grocery store was directly across the street from the bar, and I had to make sure that the douchetron left before we did, so I planned to keep us in the store until I could see his truck leave. I was probably right on the border of the legal alcohol limit myself, but I didn’t want to take any chances…especially when I have the mother of all drunken designated decoys sitting at the bar trying to steal my date from me.

As Athena and I started gathering up our shit; I offered one more shot of tequila to the babbling bragster and offered him the rest of my “Beer”. “It’s, not the best beer I’ve ever had, do you want it bro?” I announced. "I fear no beer" the asshat mumbled. His eyes were starting to glaze over a little bit and his face was getting red….the last 5-7 shots of tequila were hitting him all at one time. The beer in front of him was down to the last few sips, so I dropped my pint of lukewarm piss beer right behind it as Athena and I headed to the door. I never did get a good look at his reaction through the windows of the grocery store, but according to Jessie; That douchebag swallowed every drop of the piss beer that I left in front of him right after he choked down that last double shot of hornitos. Jessie said that he had never seen someone go from bright red to bright white like that in all of his years of bar tending. Apparently this babbling terminal case of hemorrhoids spent the following 15 minutes puking up piles and piles of hornitos tequila, beer and piss everywhere but the toilet in the men's room. He made quite a mess before he stumbled out of the door of the bar and got into his truck.

I had cleverly brought Athena to the magazine/ book section of the store to keep her occupied as I waited for the cheese-dick bastard to start his truck up. I ducked around a corner and called 911.


911: 911, what is your emergency?

Hef: We are at Krush, the new bar in Sequim, Washington. My girlfriend and I just left the bar and some drunk guy was bragging about how much cocaine he had on him. Everyone there insisted that he should take a cab home but he wouldn’t listen and now he is getting into his truck. I’m worried about his safety and the safety of the other drivers on the road ( B.T.W. there were no other drivers on the road at 1:30am in B.F.E. on a Sunday night, but it created a sense of urgency.) I gave the 911 dispatcher a detailed description of the truck, and gave her the license plate number.


911: We will send someone immediately.

Hef: Thanks a bunch.


I could almost feel the devil horns trying to poke out of my forehead.


Athena and I were at the checkout booth of the grocery store as I saw the red and blue lights screaming down the old Olympic highway from the large store window facing the street. “Ok, Lets get going” I smirked. She had no idea what I had just done to John.

We had inadvertanly picked up a bottle of hornitos tequila (just in case we felt the need to drink more at my house). When we got to my joint I found out that Athena had a thing for Pink Floyd so I showed her a few Youtube videos that displayed my showboating techniques. One of which included a small segment where I mooned the crowd. She must have either liked the guitar playing or my butt, because within seconds we were making out in my dirty little cell. We started digging into the bottle of hornitos and making out at the same time. We were getting crazy with it. We even tried to take shots while in the handstand position…we failed.

 I don't know why, but  wasn’t expecting Athena to want to go all the way at first contact. I thought we would pussyfoot around it on the first date, but much to my surprise she just started ripping my pants off. I wasn’t even remotely aroused. In fact I was suffering from shrinkage from the cold air outside and overall drunkeness. There was nothing impressive about this situation. We were sweaty, drunk and I was a wet noodle. I was to the point of intoxication where there was no way to charm this snake until the morning. Unfortunately the alcohol made me feel superhuman so I tried to go through with it anyways. She worked on me like a porno fluffer with O.C.D for a while, but it didn’t even feel good. I was numb from the waist down. I tried to make up some lame excuse: “oh, wait! We can’t do this, I don’t have any condoms”. She got off of me and said “Ok, let’s go to the store”.

We drunkenly stumbled to the store a few blocks down my hill and went straight to the condom aisle. It dawned on me that we were almost out of tequila so I grabbed another bottle and we slapped the condoms and tequila on the counter while Athena was grabbing at my junk. The checkout clerk known as “Special Ed”. Gave us a good hearty chuckle and commented on our grocery list. “So, which one is dessert?” Athena and I just looked at each other and laughed.

We walked back in the 30 degree air all the way back to my little cabin. A certain someone or something was not that excited to be in the cold for that long. My wet noodle was now a cold, unimpressive macaroni noodle. Athena was not happy about this situation. She made another long winded attempt at waking the sleeping dragon…with her mouth. She crawled on top of me once it seemed hard enough to do anything with then as I reached for a condom the nights tequila bender mustered up a very solid gurp in my mouth. She started viciously biting my neck, shoulders and chest. She moved down to my arms and bit hard enough to draw blood. I was revolted, and writhing in agony. Not only was I too drunk and too cold to find sex interesting but now I have bite marks all over my body and vomit in my mouth so I couldn’t scream or tell her to stop without getting vomit all over my face, and the really fucked up part was that since I couldn't open my mouth all of the sounds that I was making sounded like I was just moaning really loud and actually enjoyed what she was doing, so she just kept going.....this was not going well. I had no choice but to swallow the acrid tequila vomit down and demand that she stop biting me and get the fuck off!

Naturally all of the work that Athena had done to get me ready for a little loving was all for not. I laughed out loud at the situation as she was straddling me, but Athena was not laughing with me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!?!?!” she screamed. She was starting to throw a hissie fit like a spoiled 9 year old that child that was denied a trip to Chuck e Cheese on their birthday.  I didn’t flinch because I didn’t think in a million years that a girl this cute and reserved would ever actually punch someone, but Athena cocked her fist back and swung at my face with the force of a Brahma Bull. I heard the pop as her fist made contact with the corner of my eye and the top of my nose. It sounded like someone dropping a big rock onto cement, and I just saw bright lights and smelled adrenalin. I could tell that the first swing had cracked the cartilage in my nose. When I was hit in the nose this squarely (back in my back yard boxing days) it would bleed like a motherfucker and inevitably end the fight. However this time it did not, therefor there was no evidence of my pain so Athena kept swinging until I showed a sign of fight. I held her down by her wrists then climbed on top of her and pinned her legs down with mine. She was laughing at this point, which is a hell of a lot better than when she was swinging her fists at my face. I let her up and said: “It’s time to sleep”. She wasn’t having it and demanded that I give her a ride to her car. I didn’t have a problem with that seeing as how I was convinced that she was going to continue to keep swinging at my face. I didn’t want the night to end this way. The thought of her telling people at work what “Didn’t happen” would have been excruciatingly embarrassing…so as a consolation…


Hef: Wait Athena.

A: (As she was putting her underwear back on.) “What?!”

Hef: Before you go; “Can I test drive your Vulva?”

A: Huh? (she looked puzzled)

H: With my tongue?

A: (In the same smooth motion that she was pulling her undies up, she pulled them right back off as if I had just hit the rewind button on a VCR.)

Hef: (Oh thank god! Something I knew I was good at even when I was shitfaced. Hopefully she will take this as a consolation prize and we can just put the whole thing behind us)


I started making out with her and slowly moved down her perfect body. Now, I have been spoiled by attractive healthy looking vagina’s for most of my life, but this was something spectacular. This chick was Va-jazzled. It was the masterpiece of perfect vagina. I picked her up and landed her perfect vahoo directly onto my face. Athena proceeded to ride my face like a mechanical bull until she reached a very loud and very forceful orgasm. She was a squirter and she shot her fem-spunk right down my nose and immediately gagged me. I may or may not have gurped it right into her vagina as she was dismounting my face. At this point I don’t think either one of us really cared whether or not I upchucked into her lady hole . We were both strangely relieved.

We had a very silent drive back to her car and an akward hug goodbye. I went home and took a 4 hour tequila nap before I was faced with going to work and seeing her again.



Bad Date # 98


Since Athena and I worked together, I couldn’t avoid her. Despite the bite marks and the shiner she had bestowed upon me the night before, I had to be nice to her on a professional level, both because our behavior was being monitored by other co-workers (including but not limited to my friend Max) and also because she was still in constant contact with the Captain….who scares the shart out of me. I already had to conceal one black eye with some makeup that another really bad date left in my bathroom a few months prior. The last thing I need is for the Captain to come around a corner and blindside me in my one good eye for fooling around with his sugar daughter.

I never said a word to anybody about the tequila laden bloody vomitfest that Athena and I had. We joked around a lot and we were comfortable pretty much sexually harassing eachother in any way we could.

We started getting along on a more friendly level. I had a lot of fun with the cooks at the casino, and I had the ability to modify any food orders that I punched into the computer to them. Athena caught on to the fun and since she was a cocktail waitress she could send me funny messages through the computer with her drink orders.




I got a text message from Athena a few days later; asking for her sweatshirt and underwear back. I actually hadn’t noticed it in my room the whole time that this charade had been going on. I agreed to return it to her and with that message I had figured that our soiree was over.

3 nights later Max and I went to a comedy show with a few of our guy friends. Max had mentioned that Athena was going to be there with a friend, which meant to me that he was still in constant contact with Athena and because he was still in constant contact with her, he was most likely still smitten with her. He made no mention of Athena and I hooking up so I was pretty sure that she had stayed true to her word and kept it a secret. I continued to keep my arms and shiner concealed so I wouldn’t spill the beans.

Athena did in fact show up to the comedy show with a friend. Her and her cute blonde chick friend sat at the opposite side of the club from us and we didn’t make so much as eye contact through the whole show.

After the show was over I invited all of my friends that were at my table to my house for a bonfire/ BBQ. Everything would have been fine if Max hadn’t invited Athena without asking me first. When she showed up I basically ignored her the whole time. My guy friends and I passed an acoustic guitar around and played some songs that we wrote and a few covers. I was trying to divert any possible thought from anybody at the bonfire that anything physical could have ever happened between Athena and I by playing the “I don’t even fucking know you” game.

Athena was talking to her cute blonde friend in the dark alley between the garage and one of my cabins. She was still visible to everyone at the bonfire but she signaled me very indiscreetly to go talk to her without anyone at the bonfire noticing her. I got out of my cozy campfire chair and passed the guitar that I was playing over to Max. I guess I didn’t realize how blatant my move from the chair to the alley where Athena was at the time…probably because I was wasted.


Athena: Hey, are you ok with this?

Hef: Of course, why do you ask?

Athena: You’ve been ignoring me all night.

Hef: ya, cuz max is here and I don’t want him to find out about us.

Athena: You mean you don’t want to try again?


I stopped peering around the corner every other word to see if max was looking. I actually stopped moving and looked Athena right in the eyes. Her bright blue eyes were the only thing that I could see in that dark alley with the help of the moon’s reflection. She had lust in her eyes. The same lust that I had in my eyes when I accidentally took a Viagra thinking it was Aleve. I kissed her and fondled her body right in front of her friend. I couldn’t help it, I was dialed into her tractor beam. That body, those eyes; I was helpless against her greek goddess power. I pushed her off of me like a bitch, it took every ounce of bro-code respect that I could muster up.

Hef: Dude, Max is going to find out.

Athena: Exactly so why hide it?

It finally occurred to me in my fragile, drunken little mind what she was attempting here. She likes to cause drama. It had just become apparent to me.

Hef: You brazen little tart! You want Max to find out don’t you?

Athena: I just think that keeping secrets is fun….if you’re a spy.


She had a point.


Hef: Well, max is my friend and I respect him. The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt his feelings.

Athena: Ok, I didn’t realize how good of friends you were with him, but im still not into him. Im into you!

Hef: Trust me, you don’t want to be into me. I whispered ( I started peering around the corner again to see if Max was looking)

Athena: Why not? (at this point I was cornered by Athena and her cute blonde friend and a strange silence came over the air)

Hef: Because, Athena; I will treat you like shit for as long as our short soiree will allow me to have sex with you “with as little effort as possible”. (Yes I actually raised my hands in the air and made the quotation marks with my fingers.)


Athena looked at me in disbelief and raised an eyebrow.


Athena: “And….?”


I took a deep breath and allowed the truth serum to speak for me.


Hef: After I have come to the conclusion that you are “too easy” I will choose masturbating to internet porn over you anyways, and then I will inevitably write a story about you that I will post on the internet in hopes that someone will pick up my bevy of ridiculous stories and make me enough money to just travel around the world and whack off to internet porn all over the world.


Athena: So, I’ll call you tomorrow?

Hef: yaaaaa, (Mummble mumble *hangs head down) ya, I’ll talk to you tomorrow (mumble mumble. Hangs head down)


Athena proceeds to walk towards my living quarters and grabbed her underwear and sweatshirt. She pulled me aside one more time into the darkness and planted one last smooch on me before she took off with her cute blonde friend.

I took a mental analysis on what had just happened behind Max’s back. I felt guilty as I headed back to the bonfire where he was playing guitar in front of our other buddies and some girls. He is a relatively decent guitar player, so it was easy to just kick back and listen to him play. His motions and body language suggested that he had no idea what was going on with Athena and I. He was completely oblivious…..or so I thought.


I got to work the next day, and within the first few minutes I had been clocked in; Max quietly walked up beside me, made eye contact with me, and slowly said: “I know what you and “you know who” did last night and I’m not happy about it”. My heart stopped. He continued: “Don’t expect anything from me”.

Before I could even get a word in edgewise; he was gone. He had stormed off in an almost military style stride to the opposite end of the building. I could tell he was nervous about bringing up the subject. Dan, who was one of Max and my mutual friends was at the bar.


Hef: Dan, do you thing you might be able to go to the other end of the casino and find out what kind of Saber-toothed Crotch cricket crawled up Max’s ass for me?

Dan: Haha, no prob bro!


Dan came back a few minutes later laughing outloud. When he sat down at my bar again, he had a shit eating grin on his face that could have charmed satan.


Dan: Ummmm, apparently Athena left the same underwear on your floor that she left on Max’s floor like a month ago.

Hef: Haha, well shit I guess there isn’t really any recovering from that. I guess I have been caught red handed right?

Dan: Yeah, Max is pretty pissed.

Hef: Well, it looks like I need to give Max a tutorial on identifying perpetual skankdom.


Max didn’t want to hear what I had to say. It was very clear that he thought I was trying to move in on the girl he just got dumped by and it was a total slap in the face to him to hear me say how much Athena didn’t mean to me. I did what any good friend would do in this type of situation: I lied!


Hef: Look dude, I was trying my best to avoid the violation of the bro-code, unfortunately Athena’s vagina got in the way. We didn’t really have sex anyways, and I’m not interested in her.

Max: Oh? Then why were her panties on your floor?


I paused for a second….Why were her panties on the floor? She must have known something was missing when she put her pants back on. That little harlot must have planted the panties when I wasn’t looking during the bonfire….What an ass-basket!!!!!


Athena and I were still communicating via text during the whole ordeal, and we came to the conclusion that we should meet up at the bar after work and discuss what we would do about the situation.

Well, something very ironic happened that night. We met at the bar as planned. A bunch of my good friends were there pretty much talking me up to Athena before I had a chance to get there. No,No, No!!!!! This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen! I wanted her to realize that dating me was a bad idea so Max would be my bro again. Furthermore; I could live a free life without the Captain hunting me down or worse yet…..I actually get into a committed relationship with Athena. I wanted Athena to realize how much of a dirtbag I really am so she would lose interest in dating me. We locked into normal longwinded conversation about pretty much nothing. I figured we would get to the point and I would be on my way in a few moments…Then it happened.


“How bout a shot of tequila Hef?!?!” It was as if time slowed down and the words came out of the bar tenders mouth at half speed.


Oh shit! Its Mike, he knows my weakness. Don’t say it mike, don’t say it!!!!


Mike: On Me!




He poured us both a double shot of liquid bad decisions. We both cheerfully guzzled our shots and washed them down with the beers that Athena had bought us before I got there. My mind was swimming as Athena was starting to get touchy feely with me. We didn’t even touch the subject of “not seeing eachother for bro code’s sake”. Instead, we shared stories about food fights, and strippers.

We were laughing and touching and hugging and kissing…then Mike came by again. I tried to avoid eye contact and stay focused on the task at hand. It wasn’t working. Athena started taunting me with Viagra eyes and Mike caught me blind sided.


Mike: Can I buy you two another round Hef?!?


In my mind I was like “NOOOOOOOOOOO! MIKE!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! But what came out was something more like this…


Hef: Fuck yeeah!



He landed two more doubles in front of us and we pounded them faster than two shakes of a jackrabbit’s ass. That’s about when things started to get stupid again.


Hef: Well, I guess we better call it a night then!

Athena: What? I can’t drive anywhere, I’ve been drinking all day.

Hef: What? Really? How bout you take a drive with your Chevro-legs then?

Athena: Just take me to your place and I will sleep it off.

Hef: (*looks at bruises on arms) Bull-shiiiiit.


Against my better judgement I took Athena to my house. I played a little bit of guitar as she sat on my bed and beemed at me with her Viagra eyes. I tried to avoid eye contact and proceed to rawk out in hopes that she gets bored of it and starts to get tired. Instead of wearing her out, I wore myself out and fell into the same trap that I had fallen into before. Only this time I had a much different dysfunction.

I have always prided myself on my stamina and ability to last for ever when it comes to relations. For the most part my stamina was so good that I had prayed for a good dose of premature ejaculation just for some gaddd damned relief!! Well, all of a sudden after 14 years of flawless victories I experienced the one most common and most embarrassing of all sexual dysfunctions……3 times!!!!!


  1. During foreplay, she started to get rough again and….Splat, splat splat!!!!!!

  2. After 20 minutes of smooching and fondling she started to maneuver the condom onto my Johnson and….Splat, splat splat!!!! Again.

  3. We watched a movie and relaxed for a little bit. We smooched for a little bit during the ending credits. She gingerly put the last condom in the pack onto my crotchknob. Things were looking good this time. I didn’t have the urge to splooge at all. She got on top of me and straddled me with her beautiful greek goddess body. She was incredibly warm. Her perfect, supple tah tahs grazed my forehead and I felt her body heat as I entered her. She put her whole weight down and took the whole thing in. I could feel the moisture of her vahoo on my ballsack and then……Splat splat Splat Again!!!!! Fuck!!!!!!


I was Jim in American Pie….plus 1 splat splat splat.


Athena was on top of me and she immediately dismounted after the 3rd embarrassing early surprise. To be honest I was kind of proud of my ability to regenerate 3 times in an hour, but it served no amusement to Athena. She had her clothes back on faster than I could apologize. I was drunk, tired, embarrassed and after all of that Athena wanted me to take her back to her car.

For the next few days things were incredibly ackward. She told me that she had told the Captain about our brief soiree and told me that she was willing to keep my identity a secret from him as long as I could get it right the next time. I got one more chance to please Athena… if that wasn’t pressure enough, I was beginning to doubt myself, but I had a foolproof plan.


Sobriety, and Viagra!!


I invited Athena to watch waynes world with me at my friend Sid and his wife Andrea’s house. I had a little bit of back stock of Viagra from years ago when I dated that porn star chick. I knocked one down about half way through the movie. This garunteed that I would be in full force when it got to game time.

Everything was going as per the plan. Athena invited me to go to her house and go swimming in her parents indoor swimming pool. I was delighted for multiple reasons. 1) I hadn’t showered in like a week because of all of the construction and extra hours I was putting in at the casino… I didn’t have a shower yet.

2) I had never actually had sex in a swimming pool before….but I had always wanted to.

3) When we were done…there would be no need for any messy clean up.


Knowing everything that was at stake, and knowing that I only got one chance to get this right, I took a second Viagra pill on the drive to her house. My vision was starting to get blurry from the first one that I had taken an hour or so prior so I knew that when we started getting down to business, there was no chance of disappointment. I had experimented with Viagra before and only once had I taken a full pill…and that was an accident. I had accidentally mistaken the little blue pill for an Aleve pill during a visit from my hot friend Nikki from Arizona. It was probably the best mistake I had ever made. Unfortunately this time there was a lot more at stake.

  1. First and foremost; My dignity! I had failed to perform adequately twice now (technically 4 times) If I didn’t get it right this time I may end up facing psychological sexual issues in the future….that terrified me, my manhood has several good years left in him. He is too young to die, or be sick!

  2. Captain K was a big concern now. Apparently he had just bought Athena tickets for some celebrity golf tournament in Florida and Athena would certainly spill the beans then if she doesn’t before.

  3. I actually really wanted to have sex with Athena….duh, she is wicked hot!


We got to her parents house, and she kept assuring me that her parents wouldn’t even know that we were there. Apparently her dad was out of state and her mom was a heavy sleeper, and it was 3am. Athena gave me a quick tour of the house. She showed me her quaint and relatively plain, undecorated bedroom. Then she directed me to the pool room.

When she opened the door to the pool room it was like opening up the doors to willy wonka’s magical candy room where everything was edible. It was beautiful and warm. There was a hot tub on the left that poured hot water over the sides onto the surface of the beautifully crafted swimming pool. The room was only lit by the lights within the swimming pool. It actually felt very romantic. I felt very comfortable about what we were about to do.

I started to feel the effects from the Viagra kicking into my loins. My face was starting to turn red and my nose was starting to get stuffy (a couple of the standard side effects from Viagra) I was ready….i mean really really ready!

It was show time, and we wasted no time stripping down to our undies and jumping into the pool. We started making out and groping each other. With out even thinking about the possibility of things not working this time around, before I had even made up my mind about whether or not we were going to go through with this successfully. It was then that my unit made the decision for me. This was going to be the most effortless, and awesome sexual experience that I had encountered since being in a real relationship with a girl that I was actually attracted to. I had her pinned on the underwater stair case, I could have broken bricks with my manhood at this point. It was one time in my life that I was convinced that my penis was actually the strongest muscle on my body…..hell it was probably the strongest bone in my body at that point.

Athena pulled her head away from mine and looked me straight in the eyes. She was giving me the ultimate Viagra eyes, and for the first time since we met I was giving them right back to her….literally! Athena started to scramble through her pants pockets for a few seconds as I was ravaging her body. She then proceeded to exclaim the worst 5 words that she could have said at that point. “I….don’t….have….a…..condom!”


MOTHER>>>>>FUCKER!!!!!!! REALLY!?!?!?



Athena:Well, what should we do?

Hef: ummmmm….it?

Athena and I came to the conclusion that it had been long enough since our last successful sexual encounter. We were going to do it anyways. We had both had recent std checks and both of us were clean. It really wasn’t much of a conversation really. We had come to the conclusion that we were both clean as we were doing it. We did it all over the pool room. The stairs, the hot tub, the sauna, the bare cement…etc We had successfully recreated the first 9 chapters of the kama sutra in less than a half hour. It was amazing!! After I blew a 10 round solute all over Athena, my member stayed hard….like really hard. My face and eyes were bright red, and even though I was fully erect I opted out of going in for round 2. We just swam around the pool for a good 30 minutes smooching and caressing…I guess it was no wonder the little bastard wouldn’t go down….i mean fuck! Look at this girl!! I wasn’t worried at that point, I was actually pretty proud and Athena was probably pretty flattered.

I made a slightly awkward exit from Athena’s house. It was more like bolting out of the house and blazing the trails to my house so I could find a means to get this fucker back to normal. I tried everything that I could to return to my regular unflattering flaccid state. I squeezed off a round to some internet porn that wasn’t even exciting…I tried ice, standing outside in the cold….nothing seemed to work.

I remembered a Viagra commercial that said “if you experience an erection lasting more than 4 hours, call your doctor”. Well, as the 4th hour was approaching I realized that it was 6am and my doctor wouldn’t be in for another 2 hours. I looked online for possible remedies but there were none. The only directions that any website gave me were to call my doctor.

Gad damn it!


I ended up finding the number for the hospital 30 miles away. I explained my embarrassing situation and they dispatched an ambulance to my house. Everything would have been fine if the ambulance lights didn’t wake up the whole damned neighborhood. I had a hell of a time coming up with some bullshit story as to why the ambulance showed up at my house that morning and I got in.

When I got in the ambulance, my heart was racing and I was no longer in control. I was scared stupid. The E.M.T. had me sit down on the chair on the side of the gurney. I was starting to develop chest pains to match the pain that was developing in my junk. Was I seriously about to die by boner? What a horrifically awesome way to die!!!

The E.M.T. injected me with a sedative…which was about 30 seconds before I realized that I had a bad reaction to needles. I had something called Vasovagal response. I sort of blacked out but according to the E.M.T., I turned ghost white, barely had a pulse and started sweating profusely. It was like having a gun put to my head and coping with the fact that my head was going to be blown off in one second. You don’t really get time to be scared. You just die.


Elaborate on needle reaction****



By the time I woke up, all of the weird, scary and gross medical procedures had already taken place. Apparently when I was unconscious they performed a procedure called shunting, where they pushed a surgical needle into my erect member and sucked out the trapped blood. I was heavily sedated and I was in a hospital bed. The elongated eggplant that was my penis was now a sore, bruised, angry, flaccid chunk of well beaten tube steak. I wasn’t even embarrassed at this point. I was happy to be alive. Granted; death by boner was always in my “top 3 most awesome ways to die” following directly behind 1) A 4 on 1 celebrity Jello-wrestling death match with Scarlett Johansson, Natalie Portman, Jennifer Connelly, and crossfit sensation: Julie Foucher (to deal the final blow) or 2) Massive cocaine overdose while releasing multiple orgasms on Scarlett Johansson’s face while getting a scalp massage from 1998 Pamela Anderson with her perfect fake 1998 titties pressed up against my back, while simultaneously getting a sloppy lubed up foot massage from multi-gazillionaire-supersnatch Paris Hilton after I played barefoot soccer at a busy inner city dog park.


I left the hospital late morning with a pocket full of Vicodin samplers and a stretchy band aid on my fireman. My buddy Jake picked me up and I made up some story about throwing my back out (to explain the limping without giving the actual reason that I had been hospitalized). I spent the next three or four days religiously applying Neosporin to the hole that the shunt had created. Getting a boner actually scared me for like a week.


Bad Date # 99



I went right back to work and muscled through the limping until it didn’t hurt any more. I have noticed in the past that once you have really good sex with a girl (more often than not) they somehow automatically assume that it means that you are in a relationship with them. Athena was no different. However, no matter how much fun our little pool room rendezvous was; I was still recovering from both a shunt wound on my pecker and a broken nose that was finally starting to look and feel better. This girl was dangerous and I knew it was in my best interest to stay away from her. However, the more I tried to avoid her the more she would chase me. She latched onto me like a fly on a turd in the snow.

Every time I went to work she was instantly flirting with me. Like she completely forgot that she was on the clock. She would actually stop what she was doing and sit at the bar I was bar tending at and just flirt with me until our shift was over. It didn’t help that we had the exact same schedule. The part that pissed me off about this whole ordeal was the fact that every conversation we had involved the captain one way or another. That being said, I was sort of forced into some kind of pseudo-relationship with Athena. I knew that I couldn’t wedge my way out of this one by simply saying “I don’t want to date you”. This was not an option.


  1. She had the Captain at her fingertips…literally (he could be at the Casino within 2 hours)

  2. She is indeed Bat-shit crazy and might try to break my nose again….or something else.


One thing remained constant; I had to get out of this situation. I felt like a prisoner locked in a prison cell of lust. At first I tried to make her lose interest by telling her embarrassing stories and things that I thought might gross her out of having romantic interest in me. I started out with some of my embarrassing date stories that were kind of gross and eluded to the fact that I am a douchebag when it comes to relationships. Athena found it endearing that I was open about being a total piece of shit as a boyfriend. I told her about my dysfunctional family and all of the problems that I had inherited that would inevitably be passed down to my kin. (thinking this would push her away from wanting to procreate with me in the future) Nope, she found early baldness, vertical impairment, underdeveloped tear ducts, and gapped teeth cute. I even tried to make up gross things like Crohns Disease where you shit uncontrollably.

Athena got on this tangent about inviting me over to her house for a rendezvous almost every night. I was so close to a full recovery on everything that happened on our last rendezvous that I politely declined with reason every time. My excuses were always quite valid even though they were always a lie. “Sorry, sweetheart my family is in town for the next few days and I never get to see them” (my family lives less than an hour away and I see them all the time). “Oh, I totally would but I have a Dr. appointment early in the morning”. (In three weeks)

One night she caught me offgaurd. She wasn’t on the schedule to work with me that night but switched shifts with one of the other cocktail waitresses so she could get the same schedule as mine. Yes, I was flattered and yes Athena is smoking hot and I should be thankful that such a gorgeous girl is going this far out of her way to get with me, but the fact remains the same. When we get together I get hurt….bad.

Athena blindsided me as I was pouring a beer for a customer.


Athena: Hey stud, Wanna come over and do sex to my body

Hef: uh, ya! Duh!


This abrupt conversation was within earshot of one of my guy friends that knew my reputation and I didn’t want to let him down. He is shy and inexperienced and claims to live vicariously through me, and I know if I were living vicariously through somebody else; I would never live it down if the dude threw away a perfectly good vagina.

Did I want to “do sex to her body”? ummmm….fuck yeah! Did I want to make sure it was the last time so I could get on with my life in a Captain free world? Double fuck ya!!! How do you suppose I would kill two birds with one stone in this situation? The answer was so simple yet so complicated to execute.

The first time we actually got busy, I spoiled the fuck out of her. I must have spent half of the night with my tongue inserted half way into her love muffin and didn’t give a shit about getting my rocks off. As a dude, if you have a girl spend a whole night slobbin your nobbin you would be stupid to ever consider letting her out of your sight for even a minute. I sort of understood her demeanor now. At this point, it was clear that I not only needed to retract my sexual prowess and reverse it, but I needed to make our next sexual experience so bad that she would no longer have interest in pursuing me.

One positive side to Athena’s sexual habits was that she actually liked the art of felatio. She took great pride in her knob slobbing abillities. She was even more fun to watch than she was to feel. She treated a blowjob like it was a high school sport, and she was destined to be the varsity captain. I know what any guy would think while reading this: “Dude, this chick sounds perfect…what are you doin?” Well, my theory goes as follows; yes, it is rare to find a girl that actually likes to give a blowjob. But it is impossible to find a girl that actually likes to give a blowjob that isn’t crazier than a rabid squirrel in heat, or sluttier than a 10 cent donkey show whore. Plus, this girl is threatening me with a celebrity beat down. It doesn’t exactly scream “girlfriend material” to me.


Athena: If you come over tonight, I got you something yummy and delicious.

Hef: Oh yeah? What’s her name?

Athena: Haha! That would mean I got US something yummy and delicious.

Hef: Ho hum. Actually, it would mean you got something yummy and delicious for ME when you THOUGHT that you got something yummy and delicious for US.

Athena: So, you are coming over?

Hef: As long as you don’t expect me to cuddle or call.

Athena: Deal!


This was going to be epic. I had gone into a solid combo platter of DGAF and Hef mode. This night was going to go down in the history books. Most of the time when something diabolical goes down, it happens without warning or planning. Tonight however; I had some time to stew over the possibilities. I had already come to the conclusion that I wanted nothing to do with Athena in a relationship status kind of way. Now, the only thing that lingered on my mind was the captain and to be totally frank I didn’t have anything to worry about. The dude is pushing 60. He isn’t one of the grunts on the boat deck lifting and busting ass. He is the lazy fuck in the Captain’s chair hitting the auto pilot button and trying to figure out where he left his beer. All of the anxiety of being confronted by the captain had just flown out the window, but I wasn’t going to let Athena know.

For those of you who have read any of my life experiences probably knows that in a pinch I can come up with some pretty diabolical and pretty disgusting ways to creatively entertain myself and revolt others. Tonight however; I surpassed anything that even I could have dreamed of. Even I look back at this situation and say to myself…”Dude, you are one sick fuck!”

Athena and I got to her house and went straight to her room as we undressed each other. She went straight for my junk. She wasted no time trying to swallow my one eyed monster. I had a 3 day buildup with a target in mind. She was working me like a pro and brought me right up to the edge.


Athena: I want you to ravage me.

Hef: Grunt* ok. Keep going for a minute.

Athena: mrrrphhh, you better nrrrrffftt cum too soon. Grrrgle grrgle.


I played it off for a few more seconds as if I was just getting ready to fuck her brains out. Emitting things like “gawd, I am going to just destroy you”. I took a half a step back as if I was preparing to fuck her. Instead: “Hold still” I spouted.


She had a confused look on her face as I started to quickly jerk off. “What are you doing?” she muttered. By the time she figured out what I had been planning to do, I had shot off the first round, right between her eyes.


Athena: Uch!!! What the fuck!!!! You motherfucker!!!!


She had covered her eyes with one hand and put the other out in front of her like a quarterback trying to run in a touchdown. The last couple of blasts of knuckle children covered her hair, her face, her hands/ arms, but nothing was as gratifying as the first blast that hit her right between the eyes blinding her instantly with my non-dairy creamer.

By the time I was done she was already trying to blindly find the bedrail so she could balance herself up to get the fuck out of the line of fire, but it was too late. There were enough knuckle children on her face hair and clothes to repopulate Africa…twice.

I saw her struggling to get to her feet so like a gentleman, I tried to help her up but she just swatted my hand away.


Athena: I cant even fucking believe you just did that!

Hef: I can!!! That was awesome!!! Did you see that???!!! (intentionally being a dick)

Athena: I can’t see anything you fucking dick!!!


I led her to the kitchen as I was trying to explain that it was just an accident (it wasn’t just an accident) On the way there, my stomach started to gurgle. I was releasing a series of single beat farts with every step. You know the ones that feel like someone is giving you a gentle little pat on the butthole. Its usually a pre-emptive to a serious shit. It seems to me when big farts happen it clears up way too much space in your guts to allow a monster shit to fit in there. This was without a doubt a monster shit.

Athena was bitching me out the whole time I was escorting her to the kitchen. I was starting to get mad and the fact that I had a shit on deck that would have sank the titanic if it hadn’t already sank, didn’t help.

Athena assumed the position over the kitchen sink and started splashing water into her eyes and rubbing them with a dish towel. I needed to buy some time so I could evacuate my bowels in her latrine and have enough time to bask in my glory. I knew this was going to be the toilet bowl apocalypse of mother turds. She put her dish towel down and splashed more water in her eyes. I poured a couple caps full of soap onto the dish towel as she was faced away and rubbing her eyes.….because I am fucking evil when im mad. I took a couple of steps back as she picked up the dish towel and unknowingly rubbed a shitload of soap right into her cummy eyes.




Athena went back to the sink and furiously started rubbing water onto her eyes. I actually kinda felt bad for a second…then that second passed.


Hef: Whats wrong sweetheart?

Athena: Someone spilled a fuckton of soap on the dishrag. I rubbed it right into my eyes god damn it!!!!


I was at phase 2 of destroying Athena’s image of me. It was time to finish this off with a bang!


I had this quick memory of a dude that dated my sister a few years prior. I thought he was a pretty cool dude, and frankly I had a lot in common with him. Shit I would have dated him too. My sister seemed to really like this guy, and seemed really happy. One day, he just stopped hanging out. My sister wouldn’t give me a straight answer as to why they broke up until about 4 years later.


Hef: Hey Katie; what ever happened to that guy Chris that you used to date. He seemed like a cool guy.

Katie: oh yeah! He was a cool guy.

Hef: So, what happened? Why did you guys break up?

Katie: This is gonna sound really bad, don’t judge me.

Hef: ok, shoot.

Katie: Ok, well one time I went into chris’s bathroom and apparently Chris forgot to flush (Katie cringed and shuttered as she finished her sentence)

Hef: So what? Are you a Turd-A-Phobe?

Katie: No, it wasn’t that.

Hef: So what was the big deal?

Katie: There wasn’t any toilet paper in the toilet with it.

Hef: Ewwwwwwwww!!! I would have broken up with him too!!! Nothing kills the mood more than knowing your significant other has permanent mud-butt.


That whole conversation exited my mind as quickly as it entered, like a 1980’s sitcom flashback. It was then that the most diabolical of nasty horrible ideas entered my mind. I knew what I had to do, but it wasn’t going to be easy. I was going to have to get drunk first. Athena used to always brag about having a bottle of Patron Tequila chilling in her fridge at all times. I gingerly tiptoed to the fridge as Athena continued to cry angrily at the situation. I opened the door like a ninja in the dark and pulled out her half full bottle of patron Reposado (the light gold one). I found a half full bottle of Hawaiian punch from the condiment rack in the fridge and took both of the tops off. I took a solid pull off of the patron while looking straight at Athena with her back turned towards me. I was peering over my shoulder but not missing a beat or spilling a drop as I poured the contents of the Patron bottle into the half full bottle of Hawaiian punch. I chased down my shot of Patron with an extremely potent swig of “Mexican Punch”. Then, I chugged down one more doube gulp of the demon brew as I set down the empty patron bottle. The shit I had built up was aching for me to lose some pressure from down below, and frankly at this time I had to pee something fierce, but I wanted to wait for the booze to kick in before I do the horrible things that I was about to do to Athena’s bathroom. It hadn’t even dawned on me that the tequila that I was drinking was the exact same color as piss. Without a second thought, my zipper was down and I was unloading into the empty bottle of Patron like a Los Angeles county fire truck. ( Yes, I like to pee in people’s drinks when they make me mad. “If you piss on me, I will piss in you”)

Athena was far too involved in her eye rinse and bitching me out to pay any attention to what I was doing on the other side of the kitchen. I didn’t really even have to sneak around, it was just fun. I snuck the Patron bottle full of piss back into the fridge and strolled over to Athena to play off the sympathetic card. I jumped up onto the counter and sat down.


Hef: Are you ok? Should I call an ambulance?

Athena: no its just soap but it stings like a mother fucker.

Hef: ok, I will be right back

Athena: whatever.


I felt a fantastic yet slightly painful fart brewing in my lower abdomen, but did not want Athena to be within ear shot of my butthole. I dismounted the counter I was sitting on, while clenching my butt cheeks together as I hit the ground to avoid any fart from slipping out. I stood right behind her while she was hunched over, and stood butt to butt with her as I pulled my right butt cheek to the side with my hand to avoid noise and then proceeded to unleash the final fart that my body would allow before it turned to poo. It then occurred to me what kind of fart I had just let loose. Athena had been officially crop dusted, and although I felt some sort of twisted accomplishment, I reminisced on the food intake I had that day to better grasp what kind of fury I had just rectally unleashed. Bean and cheese burrito for lunch, giant pancake, egg and sausage breakfast for dinner. This was not going to be good for anybody.


I started to day dream. I envisioned a silent invisible apocalypse slowly plaguing everything across the kitchen and into the living room. My imagination was running wild. I was watching the paint on the walls curl up in small folds like scales, then falling onto the floor revealing the drywall that was behind it. As the plague’s quickly spreading death radius continued around the room, plants were dying and drying up as if they had just been set fire by some invisible flame. The blinds that were down over the window started to curl up and fell into the sink. The lights flickered on and off as some unknown buzzing sound grew louder and louder, then the lights went off. Boom!!!

I opened my eyes and everything was right back to normal. Unfortunately now everything within a 15 foot radius smelled like someone was cooking a big fat sack of assholes over a brimstone barbecue.

The poop I had on deck was mean. It was giving me sharp pains like I was in labor with a cactus baby and the contractions had started to become increasingly more intense and the intervals were getting longer with fewer breaks between them . It was heavy too, like I had a half bag of cement mixing in my large intestines and it was getting ready to fill some potholes.

Two things occurred to me at this point.

  1. This was going to be astronomically stinky

  2. I had spent too much time dilly dallying and it was now serious. This was going to be a photo finish.


I hauled ass to the bathroom. I could smell the rancid fart that I had let loose on Athena follow me the whole time. As I was speed skating with my socks on the hardwood floor to the bathroom, Athena hollered something at me but I was too focused on the task at hand to focus on the words she was bellowing at me. I opened the door to the bathroom in the hallway, locked the door behind me. I ran to the sink and turned the faucet up as far as it would go to drown out the cement work I was about to do on her toilet.

I had my pants down around my ankles and proceeded to mount the porcelain horse. Then a loud knock on the door knocked the first turd right out of me and into the toilet. I clenched for dear life to avoid a second one so I could hear what Athena’s big emergency was.


Athena: I hope you are just washing your hands, the toilet doesn’t work.


Oh fuck really?


Hef: yeah just washing my hands!


I sort of had a jolt of panic hit me. How was I going to get out of this one? I stood up and clenched my sphincter for dear life. I turned around and stared the toilet down like I was dirty Harry. The little mini turd that I had left in the toilet bowl would be an easy one to dispose of, but how was I going to get rid of the rest of my truckload of freshly cut timber.


Athena: By the way, the captain just texted me from town and he is on his way over to pick me up in 15 minutes. You should probably get going.

Hef: Grunt* yup! Be right oooout!



Just what I needed; The mother fucking Captain coming over.


I continued to scour the room for any sort of receptacle to hide the evidence in. My first thought was the trash can. (Ya, the trash can…then I will just hide the trash can under the sink.) Then I realized how horrifyingly stinky it would be. My second thought was the shower (yeah, I will just shit over the top of the drain hole and turn the water on so I can turn it into a soupy substance and mash it down the drain) Really dude? That’s the best I can think of? Come on, man. You pride yourself on your ability to get out of sticky situations with a bang…think, think!!


The 6 plus shots of Patron started to kick in. My face was turning bright red as I was feeling the bevy of bad decision juice ideas flow to my intoxicated mind. Then it happened. It always happens when I don’t think so hard. The alcohol numbed my brain enough to just run off of the subconscious bad decisions part of my brain.


I took the top off of the toilet and exposed the inner workings of the toilet. There was water in there, and enough room to fit a whole truck load of turds in it. I was saved.

I took a couple of swigs off of the Mexican punch and waddled to the toilet with my pants around my ankles. I put the seat down and sat right down on the top of the toilet as I proceeded to give birth to my food baby. I named it Lebron. Because Lebron James is the shit!

As it turns out the maneuver that I pulled off is not an original. It’s called “Upper Decker” and apparently when you flush, all of the shit from the upper deck just fills up your toilet bowl.


I turned the sink off, after I put the seat back up. Chugged some more of my Mexican Punch as I was pulling my pants back up. I was wasted at this point, it hadn’t even really occurred to me how much time I had spent in the bathroom until there was another knock on the door.


Athena: Dude, the captain is here. Just stay in the bathroom and lock it until he leaves.


Really? That could be hours. What the fuck?


The bathroom smelled like someone had tried to reenact the Nazi gas chambers from the holocaust with fart bombs. The bathroom was attached to her little brother’s room and I knew they definitely wouldn’t go in there so I vacated the bathroom and went to her brother’s room. His room was a lot more fun than hers. He actually had a tv and a dvd player. I figured if the captain came into the room for some reason, I could just pretend to be Athena’s brother. Problem solved.


I heard the front door open from the bathroom, I could hear the Captain’s voice and I recognized it from tv. My heart stopped for a second, but I didn’t think I had anything to fear. Athena never told him about me. I drunkenly rummaged through Athena’s brothers room and found some dvds to watch until the captain was gone.


I heard athena’s door open, right next to the room I was in. I was sandwiched between the shit box and the captain. I was trapped. I could only hear the muffled rumble of voices….mostly the captain. His deep beastly voice reminded me of John Wayne, if John Wayne was a heavy smoker and weighed 300lbs.

I flipped on the tv and popped in some Jean Claude Van Damme movie from the 80’s and chillaxed on the bed. I didn’t have a care in the world as long as I didn’t have to go into the bathroom for the next 20 minutes. Jean Claude was always a childhood fave, so I really didn’t mind the time out. Well, until I started to hear athena’s bed frame knocking on my wall. Seriously? Athena? While I am still in the house?


I was piping mad now. Trapped in a room while I was forced to hear Athena fuck this old fart? This was war!!!! I was wasted and lost all sense of rational thought. I guzzled the rest of the Mexican punch and turned the volume of the movie up to earbleed level. I then started rummaging through all of Athena’s brother’s drawers, hoping to find something to tinker with. I pulled open his nightstand drawer….condoms? Expired. Time to make some balloon animals. I blew up 4 or 5 of them and twisted them together like I knew what I was doing…it ended up just looking like a big white pile of turds. What else is in here…oooh! Pill bottle! 4 Percocet, my favorite! And a half bottle of jack daniels. Wow, I am starting to like this guy for leaving me all of these presents.


I washed down the 4 percocet with a solid double gulp of the jack daniels. I almost barfed them right back up. I kept digging through the drawers and came across a family photo. Ewwwwwww, jeeeezussss! Athena was definitely an ugly duckling. She was almost unrecognizeably hideous. I hit the jack daniels one more time as I was studying the photo. Oh fuck, I am going to puke. Noooooooo, I just ate those percocets…they are going to go to waste. Unless, my drunken mind was getting irrational and my subconscious was taking over.

I had a plan. I was going to barf on the shower floor which was dark brown tile, so I can easily find them. Then I will just wash em off and take em again. I trotted to the door of the bathroom, opened it and the most horrifying smell that could have possibly emitted from hell hit my nose like a blow torch. I felt like I had singed my nose hairs with the stench. I didn’t even really get a chance to figure out which direction it was going to fly. I vomited uncontrollably towards the bathroom floor, in the general direction of the shower. It was dark, so all I could hear was the sound of my vomiting bouncing off of the bathroom walls. I flipped the lights on to find all 4 of the pills congealed together in a small pile that seemed to have bounced out of the chunky puddle of vomit in front of my feet and left them stranded on the shower floor like the school pansy at football picks in elementary school. My original thought was that I was going to chuke them up on the shower floor and wash them off. Unfortunately they were more liquid than solid and they happened to have landed directly on the shower drain. With every second that passed, I was losing more and more of my precious Percocet yogurt. I was sure that I didn’t feel the urge to puke again so I raced up and into the shower, got on my hands and knees, and sucked the Percocet right off of the top of the shower drain like some god damned barbarian. Funny how a little bit of tequila and some jack daniels will knock the germaphobe right out of your brain.

I stood up and staggered forward. Percocet and muscle relaxers tend to make me black out really easily when I am drunk. This was no different. The last thing I remember was going back to athena’s brother’s room and dancing by myself to some Micheal Jackson cd that I found on his shelf. I was simultaneously taking small pulls off of the jack daniels bottle. Then…..I woke up.


I woke up at home. I was safe, but I was in my driveway, in my car and the car was still running. I could hear the faint sound of birds chirping all around me. I knew it was really early morning because the sun was that dark orange color with a red tint to it, and it was colder than Lorena Bobbit outside. My head was pounding, my entire body was sore. I slept in a stupidly awkward position and had no recollection of how I got home. I stumbled to the front door of my little cell. I dropped the keys on the stairs and just stared at them for a minute. I didn’t even have the energy to pick them up. I just stood there staring. I decided to say fuckit and walked around to the back of the house. Grabbed a lawn chair and fell asleep. I woke up 4 hours later to the sound of my crappy cell phone ringing. I didn’t even look at it. I didn’t want to be bothered. I stumbled around for a few minutes and eventually mustered up the energy to bend down and get my keys. I walked in my door and eyed down my weed pipe. Yes it was necessary to get high to tolerate the hangover. I got rip roaring high and flipped on the tv. Turned on some stupid movie and all of sudden little chunks of the night started coming back to me. I started flipping through my phone and that’s when I saw these:





The funny thing was that I had expected Athena to call or text me all pissed off but instead there was nothing. Not just lack of phone calls or text but literally nothing. I never heard from her again. She quit the casino over the phone apparently while she was in Florida, and that was the last I ever heard of Athena. So apparently these are the kind of measures that you need to take to get rid of some crazy girl. Seems a little extreme, but……fuck it whatever.



Burrito crayon and the black out photo album.




Fear and L'Oath-ing

02/22/2014 13:50


Fear and L'Oath-ing in Las Vegas...

    Where do I begin with this story? So, many bizarre and unusual things happened in the short time that I dated Kensie that it's difficult to find a beginning and an end to the endless debauchery, sex tales, and chaos. I suppose it all started at a bowling alley in Silverdale washington in the winter of 2008. My band had just finished it's most successful year of “touring”. I use the term “touring” loosely because we really only played on the weekends and we really only stayed within 3 states in the northwestern united states. However, we did play every weekend and every weekend was a party....some of which were hosted by Hooter's girls (My kryptonite)



2008 seems like a million years ago. I feel as though some day when I sit down with my grandkids and tell them about the good ol' times...Instead of a “candy bar costing a dollar”, I will inform them about a wonderment that was once called It would go something like this:



The year is 2054: My two "grandkids" (Toddler-bots) are sitting on my lap in the living room.


Grandkids: “Grandpa? what was Myspace? and what was the internet?”

Me: : “Kids, The internet was a picture book that you could use to communicate with anybody in the world through something called websites. Myspace was a website in which you could create your own personal website for free and post pictures and your opinion about shit that no one cares about. When you made your myspace page you could put pictures on there that made you look cooler and more attractive than you really were, and you could make friends with people you will never actually talk to.

Grandkids: Wow grandpa, you sure know a lot about old stuff.

Me: Ya, speaking of old comes grandma....


Clunk clunk clunk....chirp...changg! Fizzzzlllllllleeee!!! BANG!!!


Future Me: Hmmmm. Well it seems grandma has run out of batteries again, I had better go change those before she gets all pissed off and starts bantering about the toilet seat being up again.

Grandkids: Awwwwww

Me: On second thought, why don't I tell you a story before both of your batteries run out?

Grandkids: Yay! We love you grandpa! And we want to hear all about the good ol' days of Myface or whatever.

Future me: ummm, yeah...I guess I could have programmed you little fuckers to give a little bit more of a shit, but I only had a few duckets in my pocket when I picked you out at Best Buy.   

Future Me: Kids, did you know that you were on a clearance rack? and if I didn't have the heart to pick you up, you could have ended up with some psychopath and I would have ended up with a slutbot?

Grandkids: oh grandpa, you are so silly.

Future me: Uhhhh yeah, silly is a good word. But the word I was looking for is more like “Outaviagra”.

Grandkids: Heeeheheheee

Future Me: Alright kids, this is the story of what it was like before annoying girls and the government were replaced with robots.

Grandkids: Even before they were replaced by foghorns and smoke detectors?

Future Me: Yes children, many many years ago....politicians had souls and girls were fun and outgoing. Granted; girls have always complained about the toilet seat being up even though they were fully capable of putting it down, even when they were programmed as robots. No one has ever been able to crack that code.

Grandkids: what would happen if someone made a toilet that the seat went up by itself?

Future Me: They tried that.

Grandkids: what happened?

Future Me: They found something else to nag about, so we gave up. Do you want to hear the story or what?

Grandkids: Chirp* yeah!

Future Me: ok


    It was the winter of 2008 and I had friended a girl named Kensie on myspace. Well, to be fair I had friended the fresh and rather expensive looking knockers that she had displayed in her profile picture. She had a couple of my bowling buddies named “Pat” and “Alice” on her page that I was friends with in real life, and we shared them in common on her page, so I just added her so she could see all of the pictures that I had on my page that eluded to the idea that I was a rock star or some such shit.

My bowling friends had invited me to go bowling with them on a Tuesday night. I had invited my friend “Beez” who is a pretty solid Asian wingman. Unfortunately I ended up accidentally bringing a girl named Angela, who I later found out was a compulsive liar and all around obnoxious fucktard.

The three of us got to the bowling alley a little bit late so beez and I jumped right up to the front desk to get our bowling shoes and pre-pay for a few games. Angela went to the bathroom and did’t come out for 20 minutes. In that time I was introduced to Kensie. In person, she radiated hotness. She was the kind of girl that could be standing behind you at a grocery store and her presence of hotness radiated so hot that you could actually feel her behind you. She was very flirty with me right off the bat. She said she didn’t know if I was a real person or a celebrity. I suppose there is something to be said for being able to Photoshop yourself to look like a celebrity rock star.


Grandkids: grandpa, what’s Photoshop?

Me: It’s a computer program that you could take a picture and make it more awesome…can I tell the story now, or do I need to hit the                 sleep switch on both of you?

Grandkids: No, grandpa…we are listening.


Where was i? oh yeah. It was pretty apparent that Kensie had a thing for musicians. She was a singer, and loved to sing Karaoke at dive bars. We shared that common love and it was enough common interest to keep us talking for 20 minutes until Angela finally got out of the restroom.

Angela pulled me aside to the bar, some 50 feet away and gave me an earful about Kensie. As it turned out Kensie was Angela's boss for a short time and was forced to fire Angela for insubordination. Apparently Angela still held some hostility towards Kensie for the whole situation and the only words that coincided with any conversation involving Kensie also involved words like “Herpes” and “chlamydia”. Naturally my response was something classy like: “Well, I can't get herpes from playing with her fake tits right?”

This is when it became apparent that Angela had a little bit of a lying problem. She tried to tell me that I had offered to pay for her bowling games. She was within earshot of kensie so I would imagine that she was trying to show kensie that I was her date…when in fact I was not. We argued back and forth for a couple of seconds before I finally just gave in and paid for her stupid bowling. She then tried to tell me that a “hot couple” kept buying her drinks in the bar when I was talking to kensie and that I should come in there and drink with them. I politely declined and got back into conversation with Kensie’s boobs…I mean Kensie.

During our bowling games I overheard a conversation between Kensie and angela that caught my attention.


Angela: I like a guy that is well hung.

Kensie: I think its all about the motion in the ocean.

Hef: It has been my experience that girls are only slightly more turned on with those factors, but neither one of them is a real game                     changer.

Angela: oh really? So what is a real game changer?

Hef: Smell

Kensie and Angela simultaneously: What?!?

Hef: Hear me out, If I told you that my junk smelled like I have been fucking a cake all morning I would probably have to fight both of you            off of me with a stick. Think about it, I bet both of you are craving cake right now. It’s one of those delights in life that no one can deny;              the only people that won’t admit to loving cake are the ones that are lying to themselves; like obese people that are embarrassed to eat            high calorie foods in front of skinny people. These are the same people that deny the fact that they love the band “Journey”.

Angela: what are you talking about?

Hef: Glad you asked! See Angela, there are two kinds of people in this world. There are people who love... and openly admit to loving               the band Journey….and there are people who fucking lie.

Kensie: That’s true, I love journey!!

Hef: That’s exactly what I wanted to hear Kensie, now I can trust you.

Kensie: Chuckles wildly*

Angela: But I hate journey.

Hef: Rolls eyes and looks back at Kensie* “Alright Kensie, what are your plans after bowling?”

Kensie: I don’t know, I guess I don’t really have any.

Hef: Oh yeah? How do you feel about chocolate cake?

Kensie: It’s my favorite.

Hef: Great! It’s a date.



We finished bowling at 1am, and even though we were exhausted from drinking and bowling; Pat and Alice invited Kensie and I back to their house for cocktails. “Oh, hell yeah ill be there!” I exclaimed. I just need to drop off Beez and drama…I mean Angela first.

On the trip back to drop off Angela and Beez Angela went off on a tangent about Kensie’s collection of venereal diseases and of course Beez and I just reiterated the fact that you can’t contract V.Ds through boobs. This infuriated the increasingly drunken Angela to the point where she just started making up her own background even though she knew that I have known her for all of her adult and most of her adolescent life.


Me: Angela, you have no idea what you are talking about.

Angela: Yes I do, I have a B.A. from San Diego State.

Me: No you don’t

Angela: how would you know?

Me: I have known you for most of my life Angela, I know you were held back a grade in high school for failing the basic courses during               your freshman year. I also know that you were held back again and forced to go to an alternative school so you wouldn’t have to                         actually go back to the 8th grade.

Angela: I had a tough time in high school because I was doing a lot of drugs.

Me: No you weren’t

Beez: You guys are fuckin retarded.


Beez was right…we were being retarded. We were arguing like a brother and sister over a girl that I had just met and lightly flirted with. I assume the reason that Angela was so pissed off about everything was because she thought that I had some sort of romantic interest in her, and when she realized how far off she was about that assumption; Angela immediately panicked for attention, and when the attention she was getting turned into negative attention, she just started to fucking lie.

I dropped off Angela and vowed to never deliberately speak to her again…and succeeded. Beez on the other hand proceeded to be an awesome wingman. We met up with Kensie and some other people at Pat and Alice’s house, played a couple of drinking games with margaritas and I mustered up the courage to invite Kensie back to my place. She seemed very down to earth and almost borderline redneck, considering the fact that her chest must have cost more than most peoples car.

I lived close enough to the beach to invite kensie down for a late night oyster hunt driven by Jack daniels and stories of our past. Kensie claimed to have been a model in Los Angeles for the last 2 years and judging by the photo spread on her Myspace page, she wasn’t making that up. I was curious as to how she could afford to live in Los Angeles just off of fully clothed photographer portfolio modeling. Kensie blushed a little bit and said, well: “my boyfriend at the time decided to start a website to make us some extra money. Do you want to see it?

I didn’t know what to expect. I guess I sort of expected some sort of amway scam or a website that sells shoes or some such shit. Noper….she sent me straight to a website where the first page was without a doubt Kensie’s face….right in between some naked girl’s legs.

Hef: Holy shitballs, youre a pornstar?!?!

Kensie: Well, sort of. “I usually only do scenes with girls, I have really only done a couple scenes with boys”.


Kensie clicked on a short clip of her and her ex-boyfriend. This dude was hung like a small field mouse and was about half limp the whole time.


Hef: That is soo gross. Could you even feel anything?

Kensie: Ya, im pretty sensitive.

Hef: did you ever get busy with real porn stars?

Kensie: yeah, I did a scene with this dude….clicks another clip*


All of a sudden Kensie’s face reappeared on the screen but this time it was being molested by a gigantic wall of dick.


Hef: ok, you can turn it off now.


She turned it off.


Kensie: most guys are intimidated by my past. You aren’t intimidated are you?

Hef: Not really, im pretty comfortable with my body and I can easily say that I dwarf your ex-boyfriend. That other guy is a freak, and he               could comfortably satisfy a Black Rhinoceros. That must have been scary, rather than pleasurable.

Kensie: actually ya, I have never seen one that big and it just hurt and it was annoying. Guys tend to be really rough in porn and I am                 really sensitive. That was why it was nice to have a sensitive guy waiting for me at home after I got done with a scene where I was just                 being attacked.

Hef: why did you guys break up?

Kensie: He didn’t have any ambition to do anything else, so we relied on my porn paychecks to survive.

Hef: are you still doing it?

Kensie: well I have a contract with Hustler that is up in March, but I don’t really have to agree to many more scenes.

Hef: Do you get to pick the guy?

Kensie: yeah, for the most part. They have guys that they call “stunt cocks” that can pretty much get hard if the wind blows too hard,                 but a lot of the girls just bring their boyfriends in.

Hef: so you are saying that if someone such as myself hit it off with you and we started dating, you could avoid doing a scene with a                   stunt cock and you could fulfill your contract?

Kensie: are you saying you want to date me?

Hef: Maybe?


We started making out right in front of the computer screen that was just displaying this girl’s face with someone else’s dick in her mouth. Did I care?.....Not really...I have never really had any shame, why start now?!

We fooled around all night and I never forced anything because I had remembered how sensitive she had told me she was. It was very slow and relaxed. We ended up not leaving the house for like 3 days. 

^They say that the Pike Place Market Pig has seen more ass than Ron Jeremy, I'd say its probably a tie^


Kensie and I were hip to hip for about 2 weeks without any breaks, and I loved the attention I was getting from my guy friends. They always had some comment like: “dude, you are dating a pornstar?” or “Wow, how did you land that one”? My answer was always the same…..”I have a 9 inch tongue”. 

Kensie informed me that she had to go back to Los angeles to fulfill her contract with hustler and help one of her roommates move out so Kensie could have the bigger room downstairs. She called me every day as things were happening in Los angeles. She told me that she had just done a scene where a group of guys shot fake jizz out of a synthetic dick that was the size of a whiffle ball bat. I laughed in amusement and just pictured a bunch of guys with a big assed super soaker full of milk chasing her around some high school commons. It was kind of disturbing. Kensie said she missed me and asked when I was going to stay with her in L.A. I thought about it for a second and realized that I had just been layed off, I had also gotten a pretty ridiculous severance check from the job I had been layed off from and I was collecting unemployment as I was applying for bogus jobs a gazillion miles away that I knew I would never get. Kensie mentioned that she had some friends in Hollywood that bartend on the weekends and make more than her or her roommate.


Kensie: I’m coming up in 2 weeks to pick up some stuff from my moms house in Kingston. I want to see you.

Hef: I have a better idea. Why don’t we pack up my SUV and go down there together?

Kensie: You mean you want to come to L.A?

Hef: Hell yeah, it sounds like a blast. I will go to bartending school and land a job in Hollywood and it will be great!!

Kensie: Seriously?!?!?!

Hef: Yeah, you are awesome! I have a great time with you, lets party!!

Kensie: oh my god, I love you!

Hef: I kinda love you too.


I actually applied to a bar tending college that night and spent the next two weeks mastering the art of mixology at a bartending academy. When Kensie got into town, I picked her up at the airport right down the street from my bartending academy just after I graduated.



Within hours we had my Ford Explorer fully stocked with Kensie’s crap and her

Purse dog. “Gizmo”. For those of you who don't know what a purse dog is I will inform you.


Purse Dog: a cross between a real dog and a rat; no one wants to actually pet one but it fits nicely into a purse and it barks kind of like a real dog. Ex: Chihuahua, rat terrier. Sentence: *< “Wow, Paris Hilton got another fucking purse dog, I wonder if she puts them in the garbage rather than the recycle bin when she loses interest in them”.


We prepared for the first night in north Seattle at my dad's house and then drove for 24 hours straight from there to Canoga Park, California. We were dirty, sweaty, dehydrated and worst of all....super friggin horny. We are talking about a dude in his mid twenties with a high protien, high vitamin and Nitric oxide diet, and a friggin porn star. 3 days with out some sort of release was like filling up a water balloon with hot water...its gonna pop if you're not careful. We unloaded most of the car into her amazingly spacious 3rd level apartment that she apparently shared with some other porn star...We will call her “Ashley”.


Hef: We aren't going to wake her up are we?

Kensie: No she is doing a feature dance in phoenix.

Hef: what is a feature dance?

Kensie: its when a porn star dances at a strip club. They pay her $6000 in advance to perform for the night.

Hef: are you fucking kidding me?

Kensie: No, she does it all the time.

Hef: This chick must be kind of a big deal.


Kensie walks over to the kitchen and opens up the top silverware drawer and pulls out a pair of chopsticks.


Kensie: See these?

Hef: Yeah

Kensie: These are $2000.00 chopsticks.

Hef: That seems a little extreme.

Kensie: No shit, she doesn't even like sushi. Do you want something to drink?

Hef: oh fuck ya!

Kensie: There is a bottle of Jack daniels in the freezer that Ashley's boyfriend left here.


Jack Daniels happened to be one of the many wonderments that we had in common. Sushi was another....and Kensie was on the phone ordering sushi to be delivered. What a great friggin town this is!! We each poured about 5 shots into a pint glass with ice and topped it off with coke. I guess we both forgot how dehydrated we were as we chugged our full glasses almost to the bottom. Then we hastily refilled them with the same alcoholic potency and chugged about half more. We started making out and talking about all of our plans for the next day. I was actually excited to get out and find a job in Los Angeles. I was oblivious to the fact that I had been laid off at my previous job because of the shitty economy in seattle, and was even more oblivious to the fact that it was even worse in Los Angeles at that time.

Kensie's roommate Ashley had two yapping, ankle biting purse dogs in a small doggie pen in the living room. We let them out to run rampant around the apartment with Kensie's dog just before we let them loose on the patio where they were allowed to go to the bathroom.

By the time sushi had arrived, we were both shitfaced and slobbering all over each other. We had a lot of sexual tension built up from our trip and despite our long trip and the fact that we hadn't eaten all day, we each had one piece of sushi and started ripping each other's clothes off like friggin animals.





We left a giant mess of Ashley's boyfriend's booze on the counter,  along with Ashleys $2000 chopsticks and a pile of sushi sitting in the middle of the kitchen counter right in front of the front door as we scampered into Kensie's bedroom to do the nasty.

It didn't take long for either of us to get our “Oh Faces” on. This had been the buildup of the century. Kensie was never a squirter until this night. She released while screaming just before I pulled out to unleash a 10 gun solute all over her body, her bed and god knows what else was in that room. We were both sweating, drunk and more relieved than a U-Haul full of Mexican immigrants getting stopped by a very understanding border patrol man and sent directly into a plush all inclusive Four Seasons hotel suite in one of Mexico's bordering states where they are immediately equipped with green cards.

I just hovered over her beautiful naked body until i was no longer erect. Our naked bodies glistened in the dull light of the moon showing through the window above Kensie's bed....well until the lights flipped on and blinded us both.

What The FUCKKKK!!!?!?!? we both yelled. We looked towards the door...which was now wide open to expose a whole room full of incredibly hot girls. I mean...the ugliest one was still a 10.

My flaccid Junk was exposed to a room full of porn stars.....not to say that I was really embarrassed, but I'm what they call a “grower” not a “show-er' and frankly, from a distance; no man's junk is all that impressive. The door slammed shut as the intruder exclaimed “Sorry Kensie, I heard screaming and thought you hurt yourself!”


Kensie: oh fuck

Hef: what?

Kensie: Remember when I said that I mostly did girl on girl stuff for Hustler?

Hef: ya?

Kensie: Well, I forgot to mention a few things. For one: she is sort of in love with me.

Hef: yeah?

Kensie: and two....she is also my roommate and she is home early.

Hef: you gotta be fucking kidding?!

Kensie: I wish I was.


Kensie took a deep breath and hollered at the door: : “Ashley!!!! What are you doing home so early?!?!”


Ashley: “I didn't want to go do another feature dance, so I just invited some friends over!”


As I found out later; That handful of friends happened to be some of the top 20 highest rated adult film actresses of 2009. (Look up: AVN Awards)


We finally got dressed and went outside to the living room. I was more worried about the mess that we left on the counter than anything else. Some people are clean freaks....Ashley was not. Her only complaint was about a small puddle on the kitchen floor.



Ashley: Is that piss>?

Kensie: Its probably just a melted ice cube.

Ashley: no that looks like piss...did your dog piss in here?

Kensie: No, Gizmo was in my room with us.

            Ashley: Well my dogs don't piss inside.


         Ashley sounded a little bit cross, but more concerned than upset. Kensie and I just stood there like sheep as the room directed their attention to Ashley. Ashley was wearing white platform boots that made her about 4 inches taller, and a sparkly white bikini with hooters girl leggings underneath....she was incredible to look at. Her boob job was even bigger than Kensie's and Ashley was probably 3 inches shorter and a little bit skinnier than Kensie so it made them even more impressive. She was breathtaking.

        She got down on her knees in front of the puddle (which I can assume is no easy task for a skinny girl with 10 lb boobs and 4 inch platforms) and proceeded to put her right hand directly into the small puddle and lift it up to her nose.


Kensie: So is it piss?

Ashley: I don't know yet.


      The room was silent as Ashley did one of the strangest things I had ever seen a human do. She licked the palm of her freshly soaked hand completely clean. She then looked at both of us as though she was deep in thought. She even tilted her head like a confused dog.


Kensie: Well? Is it piss or what?

Ashley: Yep



The room was dead silent until I chimed in:


Hef: Dude, that was the most brazenly awesome thing I have ever seen!

Ashley: ya? Heheee


    She got up off of the ground non-chalantly and brushed off her knees. I high five'd her as she stood up. The room cheered in delight including Kensie. YAAAAAAHHHHHHEEEEHAHA!!!!  I remembered the case of beer that I had stashed away in my Explorer and offered it up for some drinking games. The funny thing about these porn girls is that they are very innocent for the most part. None of them had ever played drinking games, most of them weren't even 21 yet. As a pioneer of drinking games; I introduced them to a game of kings. For those of you that have never played kings, it is a very social and interactive game that has you and your fellow beer drinking posse doing rather rediculous things as you are drinking beer just about as fast as your stomach will allow.



    By the end of the game, not only was Ashley forgiving of the mess that Kensie and I had made on the kitchen countertop but we were all best of friends. Ashley invited us to a club in Hollywood with her boyfriend Max. We were in party mode so of course we said “Hells yeah” and got dressed to go out.



    The girls didn't drink much, which was kind of refreshing. Ashley's closest friend and other co-star “Laney” picked us up in her new pink Mercedes convertible. We went to a few places in Hollywood that were aparently “kind of a big deal” and when we got there we just went straight to the front of the line. These girls knew every bouncer on the strip.

    Hollywood has some pretty strange rules when it comes to clubs, although they make a lot of sense. One rule was that you had to have a minimum of two drinks in the time that you spend in the club. The other was “no sex in public” they have rooms for that by the hour that they clean religiously. I wanted to take full advantage of my time in Hollywood so Kensie and I explored every opportunity that we were allowed....yes we tried out one of their little rooms....and yes the mirrors on the ceiling idea is genius. One other genius idea was the fact that most of the bars only had a few options for drinks and they were all top shelf. If you want a shot of tequila and a get a shot of patron and an Amstel Light.....for $34 dollars. The reason that this idea is genius is the fact that you are in Hollywood and not even the douchiest of douchebags is going to ask for change when they pay for their drinks, therefor the bartender just got a $6 dollar tip for 10 seconds worth of work....all night long. This idea made me want a job in Hollywood even more.

    After we club hopped in Hollywood, we went to PSK (Porn Star Karaoke) in Burbank. This brilliant display of restaurant advertising was not only hosted by porn stars, but the whole place is packed with celebrities. Seth McFarlane from “Family Guy” would frequent the joint and sing karaoke songs in the voices of most of the cast from his show. We were once again pushed to the front of the line and seated in the VIP section along with a pretty substantial cast of girls with daddy issues. I was sandwiched between Kensie and some girl that looked like she could have been a Victoria's secret underwear model. I asked her name and she asked: “My real name or my porn name?” it occurred to me then that not only did most of these girls have daddy issues, but they also had identity issues. One other thing that was brought to my attention was the fact that literally none of them planned on being in porn for more than 2 years. Every last one of them had some sort of future plans. Which I thought was kind of cute....I thought to myself: "So after exploiting every crevasse of your body to the general masturbating public, you actually believe that you can return to modern society unscarred?" I wondered what kind of career that these girls had planned on retiring with....Real estate agents? Massage Therapists? Goat milkers? I asked around and this may sound like an exaggeration but it seemed like about 90% of them wanted to be Flight attendants. Apparently I need to start saving my airline miles.

    We were seated at a table with a guy named “Tony” who runs an internet based show that usually involves interviews with Porn Stars and introductions to new lines of sex toys (anywhere from mechanical to blown glass dildo's) He invited us to his studio in Van Nuys the next was absolutely mind blowing. I was outside the front door of Tony's studio having a cigarette when a black Bmw pulled up and a gorgeous supermodel looking girl got out and greeted me. “Hey, cutie have you seen Tony around?” I don't recall what my exact response was, but I may have peed myself a little. I led this perfect example of a female into the waiting room as I watched Kensie on the satelite TV on the wall. Two guys were sitting on a couch next to us holding a couple of hand blown glass dildo's in their hands. They looked over at me and introduced themselves. We talked about dildos for a minute and then they asked if the girl on the tv was my girlfriend. I said “Ya, sort of?” I looked back up at the screen and Kenzie was now topless. The guy closest to me said “Man, I remember when I first got into the biz.” He looked at the screen as my topless mate was fake flirting with Tony. “I was nervous as hell”.

Tony asked Kensie if she liked girls. Of course I knew the answer and wasn't surprised when she answered “Maybe?” and giggled like a cheerleader. Tony responded: “I have a friend that I have invited into the studio that wants to meet you”. All of a sudden the Victoria's secret model girl that was sitting next to me stood up and headed towards the door with the bright red “On air” light above it and went through. Then, before my eyes I saw her on the screen on the wall to the left of that door. “Kensie, this is Sylvia, have you two met before>?” Tony announced as if he already knew the answer. “No, but I want to” Kensie answered back in her adorably innocent voice. “Great! Well we are going to take a quick poll from the viewers to find out exactly what they want to see happen with you two beautiful ladies”.


Ok, now I was in shock.


    On the screen that was facing me on the wall, there was a meter that had 3 bar graphs. One was “Go home” one was “Kiss” and the last one was “Go for it”. I only assumed what “Go for it” was but was actually kind of sad to see the first bar start with “Go home”. Within 10 seconds the “kiss” and “go for it” graphs jolted upwards with percentage markers underneath. 1% “Go home” 19% “kiss” and 80% “Go for it” appeared on the screen and I realized then that I was going to have a long hard day.

    “Well folks, the polls are in and we appreciate the fan's comments on our web page”. He looked at both of these gorgeous women and asked what they thought of the polls. Naturally Kensie said: “Well, Tony first I want to tell the one knob-less little boy that hit the “go home” button to get off his parents computer and eat a dick”. Tony chuckled: “haha, and then?”

    Kensie looked over at Sylvia and slowly took her top off to expose almost the exact same perfect pair of mammaries that were on Kensie. They started making out and feeling each other up.The two dildo peddlers to my left stood up and went through the “on air” door and Tony announced their names, their companies names and asked the girls which one of their products interested them the most. Being the classy sophisticated girls that they are, they chose the white one with sparkles on it and went to town for like 15 minutes. After it was all done, I got to be in a photo shoot with them, take a few pictures for myself and wonder to myself how I got so lucky to witness such an amazing act of passion and beauty. I must have done something pretty awesome in a past life because I sure as hell didn't do anything to deserve it in this life.

Kensie and I went back to the apartment and did it almost instantaniously. I asked her if she was able to get off with that girl and she said that she has never been able to get off on camera because it is to intense and she gets nervous...which explains why she ravaged me the second we walked into the door of her apartment.....for like a week. Then we started to include Ashley into our debauchery. It was like Three's Company but you know.....Uncensored.

    Every day, we would start the morning by doing it. Then we would have breakfast together....and do it. Then we would go downstairs to the gym and work out for an hour or so before we went out to the pool...where we mentally and verbally prepared ourselves to....(you guessed it) Do it!!!!

    I was starting to be ok with this porn life. I was totally into Kensie and even though the things that she did exploited her and made her seem like kind of a prostitute, I saw past it and realized that after her “work” was done, I was still the guy she went home with.

    The next morning we ventured out to Venice beach to drop off some applications for some bar tending jobs that I found available on line. We had a great time just walking around the area and seeing the sights. I got to see muscle beach which I had seen in a gazillion movies from the 80's. There were even a few familiar faces from the big screen that we saw out walking their dogs. It was bizarre.


^This guy got up on a chair and jumped onto a pile of broken^


    One place in particular that we both fancied was a bar that was just a stone's throw from the ocean. I had prepared a very professional resume and asked to speak to a manager. The manager came out and we chatted for a minute.

^This was the place^


Hef: “This has to be the most incredible bar in the area, it is amazing and I would love to be a part of it”

Manager chick: “Well, we do have an opening but we posted it yesterday and we have already had 350 people apply for the position.”

Hef: “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Manager chick: “haha, I wish. Where do you live?”

Hef: “Canoga park at the moment, but I am willing to relocate.”

Manager chick: “Canoga Park is like an hour and a half away isn't it?”

Hef: “Totally worth the drive!”

Manager chick: “Well, you're resume is impressive, I will keep it on file”.

Hef: “Thank you, and thanks for considering me!”


Never heard from her again.

    Kensie and I goofed off in Venice Beach for a couple of days, then down to Hermosa Beach where we continued to party our asses off further while dropping off the occasional hopeless resume.

    We saw some great performances and some amazing art work.


    We even went fishing!!!!!


    After the party was over, we decided to go back to Canoga Park to have a meeting with her boss at Hustler. I can't give real names but I can hint to this person's identity...She was not a shy person but she was very loving.

Kensie and I pitched the idea of fullfilling her last scenes as a couple and her boss was ok with the idea. I will never say where to find the evidence of the outcome, but I will say that it was not like anything I would have ever an awesome way!


Kensie's contract had been fulfilled and she decided that she wanted to go back to Kingston, Washington and have a normal life again. I was cool with the idea, as long as I was involved and we had a good time on the way back. We packed up her dog and all of her crap. Ashley was kind of heart broken about Kensie leaving, but she understood. We actually had the conversation at dinner in some amazing Mexican restaurant in Van Nuys after a movie premier in Woodland Hills. I think we were all a little heart broken....Here I was at a dinner table in porn valley...with porn stars....talking about getting out of porn and going back to reality. WTF?!?!

Before we got the last of Kensie's crap into my Explorer we watched a couple great movies and got baked. First we watched an amazing movie called “Across the universe” which you will have to see for yourself to understand exactly how awesome it really is....Must love “The Beattles”. Then we watched “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas”. Now, if you have never seen that movie, the rest of this whole story is crap.



Bad date:


We started our journey poolside in Malibu; sipping singapore slings and ventured eastbound on 101. We had enough drugs in the vehicle to comfortably sedate Colombia. Though I vaguely recall most of the drive, we had taken a few pictures in a few random places along the way. I had bought plastic bat wings to put on Kensie's ankle biting purse dog to ensure that we were in “Bat Country” for most of the trip to Vegas.






    When we finally arrived in Vegas we ended up staying at Motel 6 because it was the only place that would allow pets. I was ok with the idea because it was right on the strip and it was cheaper than a hand full of rice in China.

Once we were situated in the hotel room we did it. The dog was starting to get rather protective of Kensie now and was becoming a bit of a nuisance when we were getting it on. It felt like I spent more time trying to kick the dog off of the bed than I was actually focusing in on the hot ex-porn star that I was supposed to be enjoying immensely. I don't know what came over me as the seconds counted down to shooting off a multiple round report at the end of our session but that gad damned dog was getting in my way so I blasted the little fucker in the face as it was licking Kensie's ear during the last few seconds of our pre-vegas-party-spree. It never got on the bed after that.



For people who don't frequent Las Vegas very often I have comprised a list of crucial rules:


  1. Never bring your debit card with you....especially strip clubs. If you fail rule #1: NEVER EVER leave your debit card over night at a strip club.

  2. Never Buy drugs from strangers that approach you.

  3. Buy your drinks at the bar (everybody knows that you get free drinks while you are gambling, but they are short pours and they purposely take forever to get them to you...if they get to you at all)

  4. Prostitution may “seem” legal in Las Vegas....but it is not.   



    Kensie and I were both relieved and excited, not just because we had just gotten done doing it, but because we had left the stressful world of porn and exhibitionism behind us....for the most part. I still had a bucket load of cash left over from my severance pay, and I was still collecting unemployment checks for submitting bogus job applications to the unemployment department ever day. We really didn't have anything to worry about. Neither one of us had rent to pay, bills to speak of or any real direction to point at. So, what ever shall we do in sin city with no leash?


Hmmmm? How bout we do a little sight seeing?.....



    We stopped by the mini-mart next door to our hotel and loaded up Kensie's purse with as much booze and Mike's Hard lemonade as it would hold. Our next order of business was to find a drug called ecstasy. Neither one of us had tried it but we figured that we were in the best position to try something new that we could ever be in. We were a gazillion miles from home, and we had as much time to recover as we wanted. We figured that since we were in a town that is infamous for debauchery and drug abuse;we had a pretty good shot at finding some. Well, it wasn't much of a search. Not only did we find some....but dude, we didn't even have to ask. We were actually approached by some shady bastard at the Excalibur while we were playing penny slots (so we could get free drinks). I paid $25 for each pill and we took them both just as fast as I handed the $50 bucks to the clown that sold them to us. We sat and played penny slots for another half hour before our almost non-alcoholic drinks were finally served to us. By that time we had almost polished off all of the booze and mike's hard lemonade that we had packed into Kensie's purse. We pretty much just washed down the booze that we already had on us with the booze that was being served to us. It was time to ride the New York, New York roller coaster. So off we went.




    It felt like night time as we were in the casino but as soon as the doors of the Excalibur opened, it was still bright and hot outside. We were sufficiently wasted and made an attempt to make friends with everyone that we came in contact with.


    This town is incredibly friendly we thought. Everyone that we ran into was trying to give us free porn and their phone numbers. As it turns out, these guys were actually getting paid to hand out someone else's phone number so we decided to help them out as best we could.


^I have always been a fan of doing some charity work when given the opportunity^


    Neither Kensie or I were feeling any of the effects from the ecstacy pills that we had taken almost an hour prior. We were drunker than a Cinco DeMayo party with an open bar, but we didn't have that awesome "Euphoric" feeling that everyone kept talking about. We continued to bounce around Las Vegas for another hour or two before I hit a wall....well, the floor rather. 

    The last thing I remembered from that night was I was on the escalator in the Mgm grand trying to find Kensie. We had somehow seperated throughout the course of the night. I heard Kensie yell my name from 20-30feet behind me as i was getting on the escalator. I turned around to face her and she was in full sprint, running right at me. I think she expected me to catch her....she was wrong. I turned around to face forward on the escalator, and didn't expect her to jump on me; knowing that i could no longer see her....I was wrong. She jumped on my back with the force of a sherman tank...forcing me to lurch forward. Naturally I tripped on the first escalator stair and broke our fall...with my face.

    I woke up next to Kensie, with the hangover of a lifetime. I did not recall anything that happened throughout the course of the night. All I knew is that my head felt like there were little spiky snakes slithering around my brain and the whole right side of my face hurt like a bitch. Kensie was still asleep so i snuck over to the hotel mini-fridge and pounded the first thing that I could find that was cold and wet. To my surprise, the whole fridge was packed with mikes hard lemonade and a bottle of jack daniels. It was imparative that i rid myself of the pain in my head so I knocked down a huge mouthful of Jack and washed it down with a full Mike's hard lemonade. It wouldn't be long before i was drunk again, but it was the only painkiller I could find and I sure as fuck was not about to try and buy drugs off of the street again.

    Kensie took a deep breath and exhaled aS I was putting the bottle of jack daniels in the fridge. "Good morning lover" she cooed."Good morning to you pretty girl" I gurgled. "That was quite the night last night, sexy man". she said while smiling her sexy little smile "Yeah, good times" I muttered back...wink*
    I honestly couldn't remember how we got back to the hotel. I didn't want Kensie to know I was blacked out if she had a good time with blackout Hef. I did however, want to know what happened the night before, and I couldn't figure out a way to get her to tell me what happened after the escalator incident without admitting that I couldn't recall anything. Oh wait, yeah I could.
Hef: Did you get any decent pictures from last night?t.
Kensie: of course I did silly pants.
    She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her phone. She handed it to me and said; "Its almost dead, i will have to recharge it when you give it back". "Ok, no problem". I shot back. 
    I started scrolling through pictures...there were a bunch from all over. The Luxor, Excalibur, New York, Paris...etc. Pretty standard Vegas trip kind of stuff. It took a couple pages worth of scrolling before I finally hit the picture that make me sweat with fear. 
    Not to say that there is anything wrong with marriage, and I certainly thought the world of Kensie, but lets face it folks; marrying a porn star is probably the worst financial mistake that you can make in a lifetime next to a Heroin addiction. Not only is a porn star high maintenance, but Kensie had particularly shitty credit, and mine was perfect and sparkling. If we signed papers; my credit would be fucked for life. I tried to play it off like I knew everything that happened, but I needed answers so I came up with a plan to find out if this was real. 
Hef: Sugar puff, im going to take a shower.
Kensie: ok honeykins, i'm going to start packing. We have to check out in a half hour.
Fuck! This is going to be tough. 
I went in the bathroom, and locked the door behind me. turned on the shower and opened up the one window in the room. I jumped up on the toiled to boost me up as I proceeded to climb through the window. I only saw 4 hotels in the photo and they were all close by so I started with the closest one: The Luxor. I went to the front desk and asked where the chappel was. The receptionist said that the chappel wasn't open on week days. Perfect!! Yesterday was Tuesday, so they were closed. I bolted out the door and headed accross to the MgM Grand. I got to the receptionist desk and they had a list of all of the shops and branches of the casino listed right on the kiosk next to the front desk. Ok, perfect! The chappel is on the second floor, just take the elevator...take a left...third and fourth doors on your right. Ok, I got it! 
I bolted down the hallway to the chappel and there was a lady at the front desk. She sort of looked familar but I couldn't put my finger on it. She looked up and saw me, she smiled and said "Well, hello Mr. D'Archangel". Ah Hah!!!! I found it. I looked at the screen behind her which displayed all of the wedding photos from the previous day. There was an african american couple, an asian couple...then there was us....with mother-fucking Elvis?.



Liquid Marijuana

02/11/2014 13:57

Liquid Marijuana:

2 shots Captain Morgan's spiced rum

1 shot Malibu Rum

1 shot Midori melon liqueur

1 shot Blue curacao

 Fill glass with pineapple juice and sour mix....whats left of the glass anyways.


(side note: there is very little room for mixer....skip the ice)




            Luisa and I had been dating for about 2 months before things started to get serious…ly stupid. She was sort of a rebound from G-money (the girl I was engaged to, and ended the relationship by pissing on her multiple times while she was sleeping and blamed the dog) I use the term rebound loosely, because I didn’t really consider my encounter with G-money to be a relationship even though we were engaged. Luisa was different…I actually liked her, and wanted to be around her. I was her boss at a bar/ restaurant in Ellensburg, Wa for a short while, so we had to keep things professional during the early part of our relationship, which basically just means that we did it everywhere in the building that didn’t have surveillance cameras . We ended up quitting that place and picked up and moved to Sequim, Washington following an episode where a guy named Billy Lorig (yes, that is his real name and I fucking dare him to confront me about exploiting him) had taken over the ownership of our bar/ restaurant. He hired me as the bar manager and forced me to hire an unusually stupid amount of hot college girls to turn this "ma and pa steakhouse" into a booze driven parade of underdressed skanks....much like Hooters, but bikinis rather than shorty shorts and hoola hoops. I became friends with the girls even though I was their superior and didn't think of them as skanks, but Billy wanted to maintain a slutty representation. We had reconsructed the pool room into an indoor skank oasis, and scheduled a photo shoot for the Ellensburg newspaper that was eventually denied by the local press due its insinuating advertisement as a brothel. When we finally revamped the place and all 14 girls were ready for opening day, we packed that joint soo tight that people were willing to have their dinner standing up. Billy was nowhere to be found and after the hell wekend was over, we all went to cash our paychecks and every last one of us was issued a check that bounced. Not only had Billy issued 25+ bad checks to the staff that he forced me to hire, but Billy had also cleverly re-routed the credit card machine to be routed directly into his personal bank account just before he skipped town and moved to Arizona. After this unfortunate series of events took place, we had all taken a pact, that we would keep; in the case that Billy Lorig should actually be burried when he dies. Myself, along with all 14 girls that Billy gawked over as he drank every last drop of the booze that was left behind in the restaurant when he bought it...are going to leave 15 piles of steaming shit on his grave. I hope you read this are actually the worst human being I have ever known. I have never wished death on anybody, so i will just say that I hope you come down with a life threatening case of hemmerhoids.

I had been offered a full time job at the casino in Sequim, and got suckered into inviting Luisa to come with me…by her vagina. We rented a place together (against my better judgment) as we both bar tended in rival bars.

            I bar tended at the casino in Sequim, Wa. And Luisa was bar tending at R-Bar in Port Angeles, which was about 30 miles away. Both bars had live music, a decent dance floor and among other things: a weekly beer pong tournament.

            Although both bars had a different way of going about business, we both worked at the best “bang for your buck” bars in the area.  The casino is cheap because it already has a main source of income: “gamblers”. R-Bar, has a reputation for over pouring drinks, so even though their drinks were relatively pricey, they sort of defied Washington state liquor control board protocol and they proceeded to make drinks that were damn near flammable in pint glasses. Either bar you went to, you were getting your money's worth.

            I had been working at the casino for about 5-6 months and I was convinced that I would never see the day that I would get a Saturday night off without:  A: Obstructing the ebb and flow of the weekly schedule with the other bartenders or B: Giving one of my bosses a proper reach around with a happy ending. 

            Well, much to my dismay, that day came in November of 2011. I was so flabbergasted that I had gotten a Saturday night off that I didn't even bother to make plans to go out and celebrate a real weekend.

            Luisa asked if I wanted to go to her work with her and just hang out there for 4 hours while she tended bar. Naturally the last thing that I wanted to do with my Saturday night was be “the drunken bar fly at the end of the bar that happened to be dating the hot flirty bar tender”, so I plotted my night around that unfortunate title as smoothly as I could to avoid any shit talking from her co-workers and regulars.

            One of Luisa and my on-going inside jokes revolved around some truth. For some reason or another, I was/ am magnetically pulled towards lesbians. To be more specific: “Bull-dykes”. Call me crazy, call me weird, but for whatever reason I just always hit it off with Butchy manly lesbians. I assume that the deep psychological reasoning behind this has to do with the fact that we know right off the bat, that A)There is absolutely no sexual chemistry, and B) We know that we have entirely different taste in, we can't actually “cockblock”  or "Twat Block" one another.

            They are safe female company, we will never fight over girls like guys do and Luisa wouldn’t castrate me in my sleep for running around town with a bull dyke. She knows that there is no sexual chemistry going on.

            I jokingly vowed to grab the first bulldyke that I could find and have her be my date for the night.

            Well, as it turns out, it was a slow start to the evening for business at R-bar and the only other person in the bar besides Luisa happened to be a thick, heavily tattoo'd, bonified bulldyke. Her name was “Vanna”. It also just so happened to be....that she preferred to hang out with straight guys...we both win!!!!!

            Vanna claimed that she worked for some sort of peace core....or some such shit. I didn't really care. I just assumed it was a place for lesbians to unite, dyke out, and get paid for it.

            Vanna and I were high-fiving within the first minute of meeting and it felt like a match made in heaven. We had been going back and forth deciding on what to drink.

D:what do you like to drink? Apparently we can rule out the taste of dick...”we may need to go to another bar”

V: haha!

D: Seriously, though...lets create something mind blowing.

V: Deal

D: what are your favorite boozes?

V: I like tropical stuff like Malibu and midori with pineapple juice

D: wow, youre a whimp.

V: What do you drink? Mr. badass?


V: I kind of  like the Captain too.....

H: Well, why don’t we just mix them all together and see what we get?


Then it happened...


We brought our amazing booze concoction to life with Luisa; who added a little bit of sour mix to cut the burn from the rum, she added a little bit of Blue Curacao on top for color, and then my friend......The  “Liquid marijuana” was born. I was a little reluctant to try it at first, because I thought that Midori melon liquor tasted like Sasquatch shart, but I was pleasantly surprised.

            Vanna and I cheered in celebration to our new addition to the world of Mixology. Even Luisa was thrilled.

            Vanna and I got loopy off of the very first one as we played a quick game of beer pong. Luisa's bar was dead and we wanted some action. We dropped the game and quickly decided to explore the splendors of the Port Angeles nightlife together.

            We went to 3 other bars and ordered our new Mixology masterpiece at each one. After we had described our drink to every worthy bar tender on the Peninsula, as well as described its distinct alcoholic capabilities, we had actually managed to raise a brow or two. We were on to something magically delicious and potent. Vanna and I had been high five-ing, and hugging the whole time. We were arm in arm, cheering at everything that was even remotely positive. We weren't even wasted but we had created a party aura between the two of us with this new drink that somehow made us the alcoholic Pied Pipers of Port Angeles, Washington for the night.

            We had no intention of bringing the party with us where we went. However, just as soon as we had the whole front row of seated shameless alcoholics hooked on this drink, it was over for them and just the beginning for Vanna and I. The mixed company that we had unintentionally baited to come with us, was grateful to be a part of the origin. They wanted to make a great story about the night they experimented with “Liquid Marijuana” just as bad as I wanted to make great story about the night we created it. Well, as the a cavalcade of “Liquid Marijuana” users followed us to the parking lot, I realized how fucking boring this town really is. Even on weekends. (These poor bastards are following some douche and a bull dyke to a random bar just because they are a random douche and a bull dyke that came up with some drink that makes you feel like you were sitting on the beach in Tahiti while simultaneously licking the sweat off of a Las Vegas stripper's ass crack, Without having to shell out a gazillion dollars for airfare, or having to remove the unsightly “stripper dust” that the stripper will inevitably leave all over your clothes and face.


Stripper Dust: aka “Raver Scabies”, or “Glitter”


            We couldn't fight the drunkards off with a stick if we wanted to. I was beginning to feel like the alcoholic equivalent of Braveheart as we proceeded onward with our posse of alcohol enthusiasts to the CooCoo's nest. They were ecstatic about this new drink and felt that they had just as much bragging rights as we did for being part of the birth of a monster. I certainly wasn't going to correct the followers as to the actual origin of this incredible concoction because I wanted everyone who was partying with us that night to feel I just said that we all came up with it together. “This is our Baby” I said with a smile as we raised our glasses for the 6th or 7th time in celebration of “Liquid Marijuana” that night.

            Vanna was a self-proclaimed master of those bar top video puzzle games that reward your puzzle solving abilities with girls that remove a piece of clothing every time you solve a puzzle. I was intrigued, not just because there was a girl playing the game, but Vanna was indeed quite exceptional at the game. Not only was she playing the “stripper game” and kicking it's ass, but she was on the hardest skill level that you could set on it. It was amazing to watch, but it was also a game that could involve two players....and guess who else likes to see Tittays??!?!?!

            Ya, we had the high score on that game within a half hour.  (not to brag or anything, double teaming a video game for drunk people and winning isn’t really something to call home about. I just wanted to see some more Tittays!)

            After we beat the machine, we looked at the clock and realized that we had to haul ass to R-Bar where Luisa was bar tending to get a drink for last call. It was 1:58 as we Barged through the bar door. I threw Luisa's car keys on the counter and shouted “We Lived, We lived to fight another day!”. We quickly ordered two Liquid Marijuana’s from Luisa. She was quick on the pour, but she asked if we wanted doubles. I was sort of shy about ordering doubles; not only because their drinks were expensive  but also, I was about 9 drinks deep and the last two that I had guzzled (10 minutes prior to this interaction) were basically 6 shots of booze with a little bit of Pineapple juice on top. “How can you even turn that into a double”? I asked.

            Luisa gave me that was a look that I had started to become familiar with; It was a 50/50 mixed look, consisting of half: “You're a little bitch” and half “you're a gigantic, embarrassing vagina”.  I was comfortably retarded from the last 6 or 7 drinks, but she had a point (without actually having to say anything). Her right Eyebrow was raised as she looked at me and proceeded to dump a considerable amount of Captain Morgan's rum into the pint glass. She then took small splashes of the last few ingredients and dumped them over the top of the drink. The drink at it's birth was bright green and this drink was fairly brown....and transparent. For those of you who don't know about mixology: that means that there s a lot of booze in this A....LOT!!!

            If this drink were actually legal, it would probably cost somewhere around $20-30 due to the amount of hard liquor involved in making it. I jingled the change in my jacket pocket as I started to reflect on the damage this night had done to my wallet. I was just about to offer the drinks to the couple to my right since they didn't quite make it to last call on time, but Luisa emitted the words that once again created the line between “blissfully tipsy” and “Fucking retarded”…..Luisa, looked me right in my bloodshot drunken eyes and said: “On, me”.



            There was no turning this around now. I was once again dooped by free booze, and was inevitably going to be in for a long night of bad decisions. I picked up the drinks and turned around to give one to Vanna but, Vanna was gone. In her place was “Ricky” the bouncer. (The 6'9” 350lb bouncer). He was looking straight down at me because I had taken a step towards him without looking. I was about eye level with his nipples.

            I slowly looked up to his face as he muttered the words: “You have 30 seconds to drink those, or I am going to have to dump them” I made a quick 360 degree turn around the whole bar, in hopes that I would catch Vanna before I was forced to nail my alcoholic coffin shut. The clock was ticking, Vanna was MIA and Ricky was breathing over my head like a charging bull cornering an amateur bullfighter.


            I had no choice…I was wasted. I took both of the straws out of the drinks and slammed both of the drinks in the 20 second grace period that Ricky had allowed me. I got down to the last slurp of the second drink when I noticed the other 2 security gaurds pushing everyone in the bar to the front door.


            “The Bar is Closed, Everyone out!!!!”



            I had to force myself to keep the last two drinks down as the Port Angeles version of the running of the bulls was headed right at me. I handed the two pint glasses which now just held a few ice cubes in them to Ricky and tried to make eye contact with Luisa as I was being pushed out the door. Luisa had the car keys, and I knew she had a grand list of duties to get done before she would make it out to the car. “Well, that was fucking stupid” I said out loud as Vanna magically appeared to my left. “What”? Vanna asked.

H: I just gave Luisa her keys back and she won't be off for another half hour at least. Did you bring a car?

V: No, I took a taxi. No one at my work has a car.

H: Balls. Hiccup*

V: But I will keep you company if you guys can give me a ride back when she is off.

H: ok, that shouldn't be a prob...lum.



            I had failed to recall that it was colder than my ex-fiancee outside and I was not dressed for this weather. The wind chill factor was the part that really got to me. Not only was it cold but it was windy too. My face was starting to go numb, both from the wind chills and the fact that I had just made a valiant attempt at drinking my own weight in hard alcohol in the course of 3-4 hours. It hadn't even dawned on me as to how much liquid I had consumed until it all hit me at the same time. Each drink is served in a pint glass, and I had somewhere between 7 and 10 of them which accounts for approximately 5-9 pounds of liquid surging through my guts (depending on how much ice was in the drink). This was going to be a monumental pissing.


            The police were lined up along the street in front of us with the lights on. It was 2 cars with a couple of the native gangsters that had gotten in a fight earlier in the back of each of them. My knees were buckling from the enormous pressure that was building up in my bladder. It was a god aweful combo platter of fullness and stinging pain from my groin all the way to my kidneys. I couldn't believe how quickly it escalated.

            It was so cold outside that I couldn't tell the difference from the smokers and the non-smokers exhaling outside. Another cop car pulled into the one vacant spot across the street. I figured at this point that every cop in Port Angeles was right in front of me, so it would be safe to sneak around the back and take a piss in the alley to avoid a nasty “urinating in public” or “indecent exposure” ticket. I limped up to the sidewalk, leaving Vanna behind. I didn't say a word...i just started to run.

            I was almost to the salvation was in sight when I started to feel uncontrollable bursts of urine sneak out in between strides. I was using every ion of energy in my body to try and keep from unleashing countless pounders of booze from entering my trousers. My jaw was clenched, my jog had turned into a power walk. I was now walking quickly with my knees together and my inner thighs hugging my junk to avoid another uncontrollable burst of pee. My strength would soon give out and I would be doomed if I didnt start unzipping on my way down the dark alley. I was wearing a brand new pair of boxer briefs and I couldnt find the front exit hole. I panicked and unlatched my belt, my whole body was shaking now, both from the cold and the force of might that I was putting into keeping myself clenched. Kidneys burning, bladder on was going to let loose whether I wanted to let it or not. I had my belt unlatched and my pants were starting to slide over my new boxer briefs and down to my knees. I found a small clearing right next to a dumpster and immediately pulled my boxer briefs down and took aim.

            I looked down at my unsuspecting target. A Wal-Mart shopping bag. The first burst had the power of a NYC fire truck hose. The crystal clear liquid had created a shower of pee particles all over the ground surrounding area of the Wal-mart bag. It was then that I noticed the blue and red lights getting brighter and brighter in my pee puddles on the wal-mart bag.  THE MUTHER FUCKIN COPS?!? I pouted as I cut off the worlds most monumental pee stream. I have had a kidney stone before, and it hurt.....but clenching a pissing session of this magnitude made passing a kidney stone feel like shooting a snot rocket.

            I instinctively pulled my boxer briefs back up when I saw the lights, but my pants were still around my knees. The biting pain was getting more and more intense. I wanted to cry, I was in such intense pain. The police cruiser was directly behind me, and I knew they were looking right at me...standing there with my pants at my knees and my fresh yet lightly soiled underwear, my pasty white legs sticking out in to the dark cold alley like a glow in the dark sticker. The police cruiser flipped on its siren for one quick burst right at ear level, 10 feet behind me., and that quick burst opened the floodgates of my urethera.


            Within seconds I had completely soiled my new shorts, soaked my pants...and frankly I was so drunk and so relieved that I didn't even care. The warmth of my urine against my cold legs was actually quite pleasant in the 20 degree weather. I was on the other hand; pretty belligerent and blamed the cops for opening up the floodgates in my pants. I turned around and exposed the front side of my freshly soiled clothing. I smiled at the driver madly, baring my teeth in a half smile/ half war invitation. I then stuck my middle fingers up and winked towards the blinding lights of the police cruiser as I finished the last few seconds of the world’s most epic pants pissing extravaganza. Guess what? I didn't get arrested.

            The ironic thing was that they had only put the siren on to get me to move so they could go past me. I was slightly blocking the entrance to the alley way. They were on a mission to fight real crime, not arrest the drunken dumbshit for pissing on a dumpster behind a bar. I could feel piss seeping into my socks as they drove past me. They weren’t even looking in my direction as I stood there with soaked pants hanging on my kneecaps, and boxer briefs that now felt as though they were starting to freeze to my legs.

            I quickly waddled backwards as they passed, and I tripped over my own pant leg. I fell butt first onto (you guessed it) the freshly soiled Wal-mart target bag and the mote of piss that surrounded it, ensuring that every drop of the nights bender made it somewhere onto my clothing I sat in my own filth for a couple of seconds, I chuckled madly at the situation as I came to terms with the fact that there was no way to cover this up No stores were open for several hours. At least none that I could get a change of clothes at.

            The comfort of the warm urine on my legs was now taking a 180 turn and was becoming a frozen piss nightmare. I waddled back to the front of the bar after I had pulled my trousers up. I was unconsciously walking stiff legged to avoid the wetness and the cold of my pant legs, even though it was impossible to avoid.  I was shivering madly as I made my way to the front door of Luisa’s establishment.

“What happened to your pants?” Vanna asked.


H: Oh this? I pissed myself.

V: Very funny, what really happened?

H: I repeated very calmly, and straight faced: “I pissed myself”

V: Seriously? Why didn’t you just go to the port-o-potty right there?


            Vanna pointed to the end of the block, not even 50 feet from where we were standing. There was in fact a port-o-potty directly in front of a construction site right next to the building we were standing in front of. I held my head down in shame, and just giggled. I was starting to get the spins, and had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before the long night’s bender would try to start escaping from the other end.

            Luisa finally got off of work, and didn’t even notice the piss stains on my jeans, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to bring attention to it. Her car was always a mess so I just picked up a small pile of dirty laundry from the back and sat on it after I offered Vanna the shotgun seat.

            After we dropped Vanna off at some weird dark cabin in the woods, I pretended to be asleep in the back to avoid any interrogation about the evening. When we got to the house I told Luisa that  wanted to take a hot shower before bed so I could thaw out. On my way there, I disposed of the evidence into the washing machine and made it safely to bed, after I chuked up dull green mass of liquid marijuana that had been stewing in my guts since last call.

            I never told Luisa about what happened that night. It just so happened that Luisa had adopted a wayward kitty a few days prior, so when the soiled laundry in her car started to smell like ammonia and piss, I blamed the cat.

            Granted, it was the first and only time Luisa did her laundry in the year and a half that we dated…but that was pretty extreme measures to go through in order to get a girl to do her gad-damned laundry.



Jessica, My Very First Really Bad Date

01/21/2014 01:49

Jessica: My Very first really bad Date #1




I have dodged a lot of bullets in my life. But, never have I been had I been in a relationship as complicated as the one that I had with my first girlfriend Jessica. Our entire relationship was based on dodging bullets.

        Jessica and I met at a mutual friend's birthday party in the fall of 1997. It was a fresh start for me, with new friends that I had acquired during the summer of my sophomore to junior year. I was still a Virgin and despite my valiant efforts to rid myself of this debacle, I was having very little luck with girls my own age. I was kind of a psuedo-wigger-jock/ budding video game nerd that had little to no tact in the dating world.

        I had joined the wrestling team just as the school year started and I was getting ripped quickly. I was in the best shape of my life, and liked to show off my body and my wrestling moves when given the opportunity. 

        The ratio of the birthday party was good, it was almost 2 girls for every boy (like that old Beach Boys song). The party consisted of about 8 freshman girls, 2 guys my age, 2 freshman boys and myself. My sex appeal may have doubled or tripled due to the fact that I had a car....and I was the only boy at the party who had a car.

        Only one of the girls was a walrus, and only two of the others were what I would have rendered Vaginaless Manatees....or if you wanna get all P.C. About it; I considered them "un-fuckable" at the time. That left me with 5 options and I knew exactly which one I wanted the most. It was Jessica.

        Jessica was the cutest girl I have ever seen in my this day. I was instantly drawn to her every move and word. We were all watching some t.v. in the downstairs “kids room” which was collectively the size of my mom's entire house. However when Jessica got up to go to the bathroom I jacked her seat...which was the only open chair left in the room. As she had been in the bathroom our friend Michelle "the birthday girl" told me that Jessica liked I knew I was already in. When she got back from the restroom, she smiled as she coyly whined about the fact that I had taken her seat. She was soooooo cute. She had gigantic brown eyes that seemed to make my heart skip a beat every time I looked at them. She had the face of an angel....well a short jewish angel anyways. She had a great big smile and thick perky lips. Her cheeks seemed to stay rosy all the time as if she had just gotten done taking a jog in the cold winter air. I informed her that I had saved her a seat, and she asked in a very sweet innocent voice; “oh, where is it?” I looked her right in her big brown eyes and said “Hold on, let me dust it off for you”. I then made the motion as if I was dusting off my lap. Everyone in the room saw and heard the conversation and the room exploded with laughter. I thought this would have scared her off but she jumped right on my lap like I was santa claus and proceeded to wrap her arms around me. 

        She couldn't have weighed more than 90 lbs but, she was surprisingly curvy for her age. I was 4 years older than her, which was the high school equivalent of being Hugh Hefner with one of the Olsen twins on his lap. This wide of an age gap was looked down on tremendously at the time. If I did anything with this girl beyond a hand shake or a hug, my tiny and incredibly unforgiving Bainbridge Island high school would know about it the next day and I would be labeled a cradle robber or a pedophile immediaely. This is a label that can stick with you throughout the rest of your high school career and render you un-datable to girls your own age until you graduate and move away. So, that being said, I pursued her with the notion that I would have to keep it a secret from everyone....which is good and bad. 

Bad; because a girl this cute should be shown off to the world. She was arm candy for sure.

Good; Because, I knew that anything I did with her, I was doing for myself because I actually liked her and I was attracted to her. She wasn't just a girl I was pursuing to show off to my friends.


        Michelle had a hot tub sitting right out the back door of the “kid's room”. I suggested that we all go for a dip. Michelle naturally had enough bathing suits to go around to all of the girls....Well except for the biggun “Britt” who unfortunately resembled a hairless bear.



        Secretly my suggestion to take a dip in the hot tub was not only to "douchingly" show off my own body, but I was also dying to see what kind of curves this adorable little tart was hiding under her sweatshirt and jeans. When she came outside with us, she kind of covered herself up with her arms over the bikini that she had picked out. When she got in the tub, she had no choice but to unleash the perfectly shaped mammaries that she had been holding so tightly with her arms. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She was beautiful. She had the body of a fully developed 21 year old but she was just entering high school. I doubt she really knew what she had going for her, judging by the way she was trying to cover herself up. You could almost feel the jealousy beaming out of the eyes of the other girls who were definitely lacking one way or the other. She was without a doubt the best looking girl there and to top it off, she had the best body out of all of them. 5 of the girls just left their clothes on and opted out of the hot tub idea all together.

So, it was me, Jessica, Michelle and Kylie. Kylie was kind of chubby but not hard to look at. She had a cute face, but “Anthony” (one of the guys I came with) kind of had dibs on her (not that I was interested, but dibs are dibs man)  Michelle, who I had known for a while, surprised me a bit. She had a skinny frame but, she was an early developer too. She still hadn't developed hips like Jessica but her top half was looking very grown up.(She had big boobies)

I caught Jessica looking at my body and I moved over to her. I grabbed onto her in a hugging motion with my hands to her side so she could rest her hands on my shoulders as I whispered in her ear. “You have an amazing body”. She started to back up (blushing a little bit) and ran her hand down my chest and said out loud: “I was going to say the same thing to you”.

        It was on!!!! We started making out hard! I knew she was inexperienced because she was kissing me as if she was a starving Wolverine and I was the fresh carcass of a fat bunny rabbit.

        We were in our own little world long enough to scare off whoever had been surrounding or sharing the hot tub with us. Our disgusting display of instant animal attraction had probably gotten to the point where everyone who had seen our interaction was probably convinced that we were going to just start making babies right there in front of god and everyone.

        I asked her if she wanted to get dressed and wrestle in the bed room, and despite how cheesy that sounds, she actually agreed. We grabbed our towels and headed back inside. We sort of dodged everyone inside and ducked over to the one open bed room to start our wrestling match.

        Honestly for the first couple of minutes I really did just show her wrestling moves, but the whole time I would just pin her so I could kiss her again. She was seriously the cutest girl I had ever seen and I couldn't help myself.

        We tired ourselves out from wrestling and just sat on the bed and talked. I rarely ask, but I asked her full name. She said Jessica Tolliver.....”get the fuck out” I exclaimed. “You aren't related to Erika Tolliver are you”? She looked at me whimsically and said “Ya, that's my sister”. “Oh, fuck” “we probably shouldn't be talking”. As I stood up and started getting my stuff together in order to go. “Your sister hates my guts”. I said, as I was zipping up my jeans. “Why would she hate you”, Jessica asked. “Well, your sister had a pretty bad entrance into our school and I may or may not have started a rumor or two about her”...”She may or may not want to exact some revenge”. “Oh, really? What kind of rumor?” Jessica shot back.

        Ok, be fair, when you live in a small town or worse yet; an island. People get excited about new people very easily. This cute new girl showed up with blueish green hair "Erika", and “Christian” (one of my friends) had sex with her within a week of her appearance. Christian never elaborated on whether or not if was good or fun or whatever, but I made up the stories for him...because I was a liar and a douchebag....and frankly a little bit jealous. We had a small, tight knit set of friends that were incredibly unsuccessful with girls and my friend “Christian” seemed to just have the best luck out of all of us. I guess I just lived vicariously through him and decided to make his story more interesting. After watching a bunch of 1980's VHS porn that clearly stated that pubic hair was not only ok, but standard. I started a rumor that Erika Tolliver's “Carpet” matched her “Drapes”. I never meant to have her reputation so battered and destroyed but by the next day she went from a girl named “Erika Tolliver” to a girl named “2000 flushes”. Which actually became a best seller on my drink recipe list this year....

        I left the party with my buddies without even exchanging numbers with Jessica. It was supposed to be a one night stand. I told my guy friends the story and left out the details of actually fooling around with her. Even though I trusted them, it would have only been a matter of days before one of them cracked and I would end up getting a black eye from 2000 flushes.

        Jessica remained on my mind for weeks. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I looked up Toliver in the phone book, and since there was only one listing, I called the number and pretended to be one of Jessica’s guy friends. I had a full blown conversation with Jessica’s dad as someone else before he finally passed the phone to Jessica.


Jessica: Hello?

Hef: Hi

Jessica: who is this?

Hef: It’s Hef

Jessica: who?

Hef: Hef, the guy who wrestled you after hot tubbing a few weeks ago.

Jessica: Oh my god! How did you get my number?

Hef: It was in the phone book.

Jessica: Oh…duh. So, whats up?

Hef: I want to see you again.



There was a pause in both of our conversation as we both knew how difficult that would actually be.


Jessica: well, how are we going to do that?

Hef: Can you go to the football game on Friday?

Jessica: Ya, I was already planning on going.

Hef: can you disappear for an hour or so to hang out with me?

Jessica: I can try



            I met up with Jessica at the game that Friday night and Bogarted her from her friends. We found a safe place a few miles down the street to make out at. It was down a long dirt road that forks off into an abandoned logging road. It was as safe a place as any.

This went on for weeks, every time there was a home game, we would make plans to meet up at the game and drive off to our little make out spot in the woods. It was awesome…well until football season ended and we had to get a little bit more creative.

For Christmas I bought Jessica a fire escape ladder for her bedroom.(Even though she was a practicing Jew)

I did the whole "romantic pebble throwing at the window at midnight thing". She would climb down her fire escape ladder and we would go to our little make out spot or just sneak into the woods behind her house. We started getting to the point where we were feeling each other up and getting a little freakier, but still didn’t remove any clothing. Not that we weren’t interested but we were both not quite ready for that next step. I was still in Catholic confirmation and my Grandmother, (along with one of my Aunts) grilled me about pre-marital sex and I promised them that I would remain abstinent until I was married.

I actually stayed true to that for well over a year with Jessica. Even though we were extremely sexually attracted to each other, we kept the pants on, until one day……

We agreed to stay home “Sick” on the same day, so we would have the whole day together. We had gotten past all of the heavy petting and although I had no issues with going down on her, she still had trouble getting past the heavy petting and moving to oral. To Jessica: The idea of having my penis in her mouth had the same sexual appeal as driving a freight train covered in tabasco sauce right into her asshole.

        She remained “hands only” for the better part of a year…which I was fine with until we became sexually active and started running out of ideas for lubrication. It wouldn’t have been such a bad thing if the relationship wasn’t a secret, and the few chances we actually got to get intimate were only for a small period of time.



        It was mid April and he weaher was warming up, Jessica and I went to different schools, but her school was on the way to my house so made plans to pick her up during our lunch break and try to pull off a quickie in time to get her back to school on time.

        I raced to her school where she was waiting patiently for me out front, alone. She hopped in my maroon 1982 Ford Crown Victoria (old cop car). We sped all the way to my mom’s house and started undressing eachother the second we got through the door. I didn’t even have my pants or shirt off before she was layed out on my bed and I was on top of her. 

        My mom and sister had just adopted a wayward kitty and it had some bowel control problems. The whole house smelled like shit....human shit, but I had warned Jessica in advance to plug her nose until we get into my room. I kept my door shut most of the time to avoid the stench of liquid kitty stool, which unfortunately traps all of the hot air from the sun into my room like a greenhouse.

        We were both short of breath as I kicked my bedroom door open with Jessica wrapped around my torso like a friggin spider monkey. she ripped off her pants but left her shirt on, as I finished dropping my pants to the ground. I looked at the clock. It was 11:46am, in order to get her back to school in time we, had exactly 4 minutes to get this done. My mouth was too dry to service her orally and even if Jessica had the ambition to blow me for a bit, she couldn’t produce enough saliva to do any good. I looked around my room with my pants around my ankles, desperate for anything that could pass for lube.

        I would have sold my soul for a tube of neosporin or a tub of moisturizing lotion...hell I would have been fine with a stick of butter. Our hands and mouths were all over each other. We were busier than a Hornets nest on meth, but we were dehydrated and lacking the necessary fluids for our sexual rendezvous. I had to think fast or this wasn't going to happen, and if it didn't happen, it would surely fuck up my Chi for the rest of the week. Not to mention the blue balls that would be agitating me for rest of the day.

        I adjusted my eyes into every nook and cranny of my little bedroom, as I was laying on top of her. It was dark, yet hot. The only thing that even resembled liquid within reaching distance was a squeeze bottle of Hershey’s chocolate syrup that I had jacked from the kitchen a few nights prior; to make chocolate milk. I didn’t even ask Jessica if she thought it would work. I just squeezed a big handful of the chocolate syrup right onto her belly and hand forced it down to her girly parts as I removed her underwear. She seemed to like it, even though she didn't actually see what it was. I suppose I could have just given her a heads up, but I wasn't about to ruin the passion for a second to inform her what exactly I was putting into her vahoo. I sadly didn’t give a whole lot of thought into foreplay and just forced myself into her after I felt as though the chocolate sauce had gotten her sufficiently lubricated. She didn't seem to fact, by the time I had gotten my swollen member all the way in, she was incredibly moist. She seemed totally into it for the short time we were allotted and despite our time crunch, it felt amazing.

        We didn’t do anything interesting or unusual during our quickie. We had a mission, and that was to get off in less than four minutes. It was a very passionate quickie but we didn't have time to really enjoy it, so I thrust hard into her and without holding back any force: “Here comes the cookies!” I pulled out and shot a solid 10 round report all over the tight knit black t-shirt that covered her chest and belly. I was worked up like a Tiger in a cage being prodded by a dozen noisy Asian school children. I roared in immense pleasure as the multiple blasts of liquid sea monkeys splattered her sweaty yet fully clothed, perfect upper body. A couple of the shots cleared her entire body and hit the bedframe behind her head, but the majority actually landed right on her face and to make matters worse...mostly in her eyes.

        I was shaking in pure delight as I looked at the clock, it was 11:52. I looked at Jessica who was blindly trying to put her underwear back on while I still had myself mounted on top of her. “Ooopsie”, I spouted like a Mousekateer accidentally missing a song que on the Disney channel. I had sweat dripping from my nose and eyebrows onto her shirt. I got off of her slowly and wiped the sweat from my nose and brow with my forearm and suddenly noticed something remarkable:


Wow! I had unconsciously created a diagram of the entire solar system with my sweat and duck butter.....and Jessica's face was the sun. Rad!


    We did it with our shirts on in late spring. It was hotter than Hell's kitchen in that house and we were right in the oven. I got off of Jessica and quickly got my pants back on. I started walking down the dark hallway towards the front door as I was fitting my belt back into my belt buckle. I needed to get some fresh air immediately, and water...lots of water. I got to the front door right as I finished maneuvering my belt back on, when I noticed my grandmothers car in the driveway. “What the fuck?” I said out loud. What? Jessica's voice pouted shyly behind me.

There was no one in the car, what is going on? I thought i was being "punked" waaaay before "punked" existed as I  panicking in my own psychological conundrum.


        Then the door handle turned quickly to expose the bright spring light, as well as my Grandmother and my mom. (As if I wasn't already sweating hard enough) I had no excuse for being at the house during lunch time. Mom made me a sack lunch that day, and saw to it that I didn't leave home without it. I was in shock, which was mild to the horror that must have been going through Jessica's mind. She was blinded by semen. She looked like she had been crying, and she had the entire solar system sprayed all over her in the form of body fluid. The whole house smelled like shit and I had brown stuff all over my hand.

My grandmother was the first to enter the house. She looked at both of us in silence as she grabbed a couple of the grocery bags from the front porch and quickly glided past us to the kitchen. My mom followed right behind her, she looked at both of us as we were squinting at the light. What are you doing here? Mom asked.

I cleverly hid my chocolate sauce hand behind my back to dispose of the evidence.


H: Oh, uhhh.. I just wanted to show off our new kitty.

Mom: You know that grandma and I took her to the vet this morning right?


I did know, but I thought it would be an all day event...seeing as how the Veterinary clinic was almost an hour away.


H: Oh, really? Bummer...i was so excited to see our little baby. Well, we better get going. Gotta get back to school on time.

Mom: (now looking at Jessica....actually, more like looking through Jessica) Who is your friend?

H: Oh this is my friend Jennifer, I have to get her back to class.

Mom: Okaaaay, Nice to meet you Jennifer. (with a subtle hint of disappointment in her voice)


        I got Jessica back to school on time and got myself back on time as well. Whew! That was a close one I thought. I don't even think mom and grandma suspected anything, I was off the hook....or so I thought.


        When I got home after school, grandma's car was still in the driveway. I was half way expecting to hear a lecture from my mom and possibly my grandma about leaving the school for lunch when I have a perfectly good sack lunch that mom made for me. Instead, mom pulled me aside into the living room very nonchalantly so I was out of grandma's view.


Mom:“I just wanted to ask you a quick question”.

H: Yes, mom I did eat the sack lunch you made me...and thank you, it was delicious.

Mom: No, its about your friend Jennifer.

H: oh, yeah...we just met and she said she liked kittens so I invited her to come over and see our new little kitty.


Mom, turned around and finished what she was organizing in the fridge for a few seconds and came back to me, as I was lazily leaning against the kitchen table waiting for her to get to the point so I could call Jessica and let her know we were off the hook....instead....Mom dropped the bomb.


Mom: Is Jennifer on her period?

H: What?

Mom: Look at your shirt, (pause). Oh, and I think it's about time you start washing your own sheets, blankets and pillow cases. 



        Mom was calmer than a Grey Whale on Heroin. She turned around and faced her organizing project as I looked at my freshly cleaned white t-shirt. This was the white t-shirt that I had to convince/ beg my mom to buy me a few days prior, and even though the principle behind buying this shirt was to have it fit waaaay to big on me, she sent it through the wash so it would shrink enough to fit my 5'9” 139 lb frame and still be 2 sizes too big (since that was what wigger-jock-nerds wore) . I lifted up the bottom of my shirt which hung well over my waist line and out of my line of site. I suddenly turned white and started to sweat. I knew what she and grandma had seen...The brown, the red, the smell of shit all over the house. Jessica's eyes plastered shut with the same substance that had created a rather fashionable outer space diagram on her upper torso. It looked bad, i was bad, but it looked even worse. My sweet innocent Catholic grandmother must have thought I was some sort of deviant. She was probably expecting a sexually aroused donkey and a little midget man to follow us out of my bedroom while cracking a whip at us.




        It wasn't so much the sight of my shirt at that moment but, suddenly I could smell my shirt very clearly and i could now clarify why I had been craving Reese's peanut butter cups all day. I stood there like a deaf, mute, jackass staring at the kitchen table, I wondered how I hadn't noticed in the last 3 hours that I had a giant brown and red V at the base of my white shirt...right in my crotch. Her period blood was the same rusty smell as the peanut butter filling of Reese's peanut butter cups, and of course we had just used Hershey's chocolate syrup for lubrication which coated the coppery peanut butter smell with sweet cocoa. The faint smell of one of americas most delicious confections...emitting from my junk actually made me crave a Reese's Peanut butter cup. I was in shock. I wonder how many kids noticed the brown and red V, on my crotch as i was walking down the halls? (as if my wigger/ jock outfit wasn't  ridiculous looking enough before) Could they smell it too?

        I was horrified about the situation as it was, but the real horror didn't really hit Jessica and I until the next morning. 

    I Firmly believe that Hershey's Chocolate Syrup should come with a warning label: "Do not use for lubrication". When you think about chocolate syrup you tend to have an idea that it is a thick liquidy substance much like KY Jelly. What you may fail to realize is that Hershey's Chocolate syrup is almost purely made up of sugar. Sugar is abrasive, and when mixed with have the equivalent of wet sticky sandpaper. The morning after our Hershey's experiment, I went to take a morning piss like I do every morning. Only this time, when I pulled out my one eyed monkey, it felt like i had just pulled it out of a sock full of sulfuric acid. My trouser snake, had the worst case of road rash I had ever seen. It looked like i had been fucking an economy sized pencil sharpener. I can't even imagine what Jessica was going through. 

    I had been dying to talk to her all day. I must have gone through a tube and a half of extra strength neosporin throughout the school day. I took so many bathroom breaks that my teachers and classmates must have thought I had a wicked case of the shits. I waited till 5 to call her, when i knew she would be home. I once again pretended to be her friend Brian for 5 minutes with her dad, and then I finally got on the phone with her. 


H: Hey Jessica, how are you?

J: I just got back from the doctor.....not good

H: I had a feeling, what did they tell you?

J: I have something called a yeast infection.

H: Ewwww, what is that?

J: You don't want to know. 

H: Is there anything i can do to make it better?

J: Ya, can you get me a glass of milk and a spoon?


    Just kidding, she didn't really say that. She did however have a yeast infection for a couple of weeks, the same road rash that I had experienced was apparently 10 fold for her. Her sweet little girl parts may never be the same again. I healed like a champ and was ready to get back in the batter's box (no pun intended). However, Jessica had a little bit of Sexual PTSD over the whole chocolate sauce fiasco, and our love life quickly died. Jessica missed a few days of school due to our chocolate sauce soir'e, and she was forced to tell her parents what actually happened. Naturally Jessica's older sister Erika (aka 2000 flushes) got wind of it and spread the word that I was a pedophile, since I had fornicated with her little sister. Well, much to my surprise; it didn't seem to have much of an affect on our tiny high school community. In fact, it may have actually attracted a few of the girls in the school that had a secret food fetish. Jessica on the other hand was nicknamed "Hershey squirt" for the remaining years of her highschool career. 

         Thats how I turned the Tolivers into "Hershey Squirt" and "2000 Flushes", and that was one really bad, really painful date.


        Sadly I threw the Reese's peanut butter cup shirt away, but I should have hung it up on my wall somewhere. That shirt would forever be the original relic of 101 really bad dates. A mascot of sorts.



"By the way: I sill love Reese's Peanut Butter Cups"



The Worlds Douchiest Internet Dating Tactic

12/28/2013 12:46

The world's Douchiest internet dating tactic # Really Bad Date: 25-26


The word "Douche" came to English via French, from the Italian word Doccia, which means  "Conduit Pipe".  and the word "Docciare" which means  "pour by drops"  where today it means "to shower" in most European languages dating back to 1766. However, the word douchebag entered into the American slang as a term to describe a certain kind of person. There are several definitions and in order to further understand the american slang definition of douchebag you have to relate to other people's perspective of the word. So without further adieu:

My own personal experience with the douche population, generally lies within the world of music and politics. The political “Douchebag” will defend his or her political belief to the death...even if they have no idea what they are talking about. Politicians don't even take politics seriously, why the hell should a civilian? We all know we are getting fucked by the government, we will continue to be fucked by the government for the rest of our lives....even the government is getting fucked by the government so my best piece of advice?....”Let it go man”. You will not do yourself or anyone around you any service by voicing about your opinion on any situation that is beyond your control.

As far as “musical douche-bags” go? Look for yourself, there are 7 some-odd Billion people on this planet and every last one of them has different taste in music, art, food and everything else. To try and say something “sucks” or generalize it as something negative is what is known as ignorance.You need to come to terms with the fact that you are way less than 1% of the worlds population. Even if you personally have more musical talent than the band you are talking trash about, Your opinion has as much effect on the world as a small field mouse's dried up, year old diarrhea. The music that you sometimes listen to.... and sometimes have no choice but, to listen to; may not live up to the music that you are accustomed to, or are familiar with, but it is simply art (art that someone or a group of people is just trying to convey their own personal experiences with). Just try to understand that there are people in this world that can and will appreciate what you think “sucks” and chances are pretty good you will be outnumbered.

If you can come to terms with the fact that it is just “Not your style”. That is a legitimate answer. Or, just feel free to shut the fuck up; because someone else is proud of their artistic achievement, and they deserve the right to be happy about their hard work paying off, even if it is for their own mental denouement. (What the fuck have you done in your life that every person in the world just goes Ga-ga over? Did you invent alcohol?

The other musical douche-bag is what is known as a showboat or a show stealer. These kinds of people are usually not even the lead singer or a major part of the band. Just somebody that is in the band that is trying to steal the this Douche-bag:

My only plight with musicians lately, has been the unsightly amount of shit-talkers of other bands. I have seen so many great bands put down by other bands that sound exactly like their band, that it just makes me want to wretch in their kick drum. It would be like if I were to put down someone like Tucker Max, or Neil Strauss. These are the pioneers of writing about their experiences during the sexual revolution. These are my heroes!

When I hear bands like “Terror” talking trash about bands that I personally think are more innovative and powerful than them like “Attila”. It makes me want to put them up on a national voting poll....just to blow it back in their face.

Attila has created art, in the same way that “Terror” has, however Attila will only ever nay say a band that hasn't already said something negative about them. Call it defense, or call it sticking up for their art or whatever. Either way, the band Attila is amazing and has brought something new and innovative to the world (and they did so, as young kids)....which unfortunately I cannot say for the band “Terror”....(who are old as fuck). Attila Terror



In 2007 I was lucky enough to land a job to allow me to be as lazy as a fat cat on Xanax . I had been dabbling in the online dating world for close to a decade, but I had suddenly struck it rich when I had acquired the ability to do nothing but fuck around on the internet all day...on the clock.

I literally had all day to maintain and update my online dating profiles. I had posted a profile on a couple of those dating sites that you only have to pay for if someone strikes your interest and you mutually want to meet each other in person.

For a couple of bucks, the selected site allows you to send an e-mail to the person or persons of mutual interest. This was just one of the perks of my new customer service job. I had UN-monitored internet access and my own cubicle. My job was to answer the phone and take orders from around the world and punch them into the order manifesting system and figure out the most affordable and efficient way to have them shipped. I was one of 6 customer service representatives for a company that sells fishing poles, so I got free fishing poles too. Don't get me wrong, they are the Rolls Royce of fishing poles, but really...the phone only rang 30-50 times a day and when it did, (more often than not) I would just pawn it off on one of the other C.S.R's so I could get back to my internet dating sites and/ or download some porn on the company's dime. To top it all off...They paid me really well for it.

I had acquired a list of about 60 girls that showed mutual interest. Of those 60 girls, 90% were based purely on looks, and the other 10% …..Well, I must have accidentally clicked on their profile when I was wasted or something.

I reluctantly spent the $5.95 and sent one of those really “sincere”(sarcasm intended) e-mails to each of them, with the help of cut and paste and a quick change of the addressee’s name. I used keywords and phrases like “Soul mate” and “We have so much in common”. Or once in a while I would actually read their profile and Google some facts about one of the interests that they had, so I could pretend that I gave a shit.

There was a point in my internet dating soiree where I actually had a date lined up for every day of the week... for a solid month straight. My routine had become so perfect and flawless that it had almost become monotonous, I was dating everything from Gimps to strippers, and not giving a shit....and as a result: It deserved the attention of regular check-ups at the doctor for what I like to call “ghonaherpasyphylaids”. (and thank the good lord I never got anything)

For the most part, these girls were far less attractive in person. As a internet dating life lesson: always ask for a full body shot, always ask for a photo with a current date on it and most importantly: ask for a full toothy smile if at all possible. All three would be ideal! Some of the most attractive girls I have ever seen in my life were what I would describe as “a few extra pounds” if you want to get all politically correct about it. I like a girl with some meat on her bones, But, not a full-on blubber slaughterhouse.

Unfortunately, nowadays Photoshop can chop off 50-100 lbs.... acne....a mole that is the shape and size of Mt. Vesuvius....or even a gnarly snaggle tooth. However, I still had faith.... that no one would go “too far”. Until the fall of 2001.


#25 Walrusbassetthoundface

In the fall of 2001 I met a girl online while I was touring with my first real band “Deafchild”. I wouldn't have considered myself a bad ass by any means, but at the time I was a rock star by technicality. I lived in a small town called Gatesville, Texas with my band mates. I was 19, and was only allowed to play music in the bars that I had visited, but never allowed to drink in one. Our neighbor across the street “Gene” allowed me to use his internet to scavenge girls in the area. He thought it was funny and amusing.

I met a girl on-line that described herself as a “grown up Reese Witherspoon” from the movie “Sweet home Alabama”. She had sent me an actual photo of Reese Witherspoon that was photo shopped to add a few extra pounds.

I knew right off the bat what this girl's motives were. The thrill of the chase was nonexistent. Not to sound too arrogant, but even the few rare cybersnatches that actually turned out to be better looking than their profile picture, were no match for the “cool guy, in a touring band”. It really just came down to my opinion of them, and frankly a lot of the time I would see them in person and instantly know that...


A)There is nothing that she could say or do that could possibly make her more attractive. This person has the sex appeal of an inbred Manatee that was too large to actually locate vagina on (even with the help of a large bed covered in baking flour).

B)There isn't enough tequila and/or Viagra in the world to force me to go Coyote ugly on them. I would gnaw my own arm off to get away from her, but I would be too afraid that she would gnaw my arm off (because she is hungry) before I got a chance.


In this one particular case; My good friend and bass guitar player “Morgan” came with me to meet the “grown up Reese Witherspoon” only to find a gigantic walrus with a stutter and a hair-lip. This girl (that may or may not have consumed Reese Witherspoon in the last 3 or 4 meals during our one hour drive to Copperas Cove Texas).. answered the door of her parents trailer. She cackled the words” I just need to get a few thangs before we git goin” through her impressively inbred grill.


I may be a douche, but can anyone blame me for running straight back to the car and peeling out in the exact direction in which we came we came from, with the speed and precision of Superman? I.....Bet.....Not!

Sure, it is shallow not to give the sabertoothed cyberwalrus a chance, but lets face the facts kids: She described herself as someone else, and Photoshopped someone else in a picture to try and swoon me into a personal meeting. She deserved the peel out marks in her parent's trailer's driveway, but the kind, choir boy in me found an endearing infatuation to her desire to create a beautiful, and financially comfortable cult of personality. She made herself look like the queen of Sheba. Looking back, I suppose it could have worked out but, we would have been a very strange couple.....

I guess I failed to mention that when we were talking on the phone earlier, she had claimed that her parents were stinking filthy rich and that was why she still lived with her unless the rundown trailer and the amazing display of broken down automobiles in the front yard was hiding the mansion behind it, everything she had told me was a lie. I could go on and on about the ridiculous claims she had with the music industry and blah blah blah, but, it was all a rectocele of lies and deceit. I had no use for her at this point, people who lie that much might as well be a “shaving accident” scab on my ball sack. (eventually it will go away but it is quite irritating at the time when it is needed.)

Creating an image of yourself as something pretty and desirable, when you know for a fact that you have the genetic makings of a crossbreed between a Warthog, a Walrus and a basset hound is frankly a much more terrible lie to yourself than it is to someone you have never met. So, no I felt no shame when she answered the door and I bolted straight to my car like I was being attacked by a swarm of killer bees with anthrax coated stingers. I would go as far as to say that she was a “scunt”....because an actual cunt is useful.

I would imagine that Walrusbassetthoundface had to explain to her parents what had just happened. I would imagine that she came up with another rediculous lie to save face. However, i convinced myself that her parents were used to this behavior and offered her a consulation date with her brother Billy-Bob-Jethro Jr.

These are the kind of occasions that you can't fix. You have just wasted a whole day preparing yourself to meet this person that you know nothing about (other than what they tell you to be true). When you show up to meet this person, you are not only disappointed but....your day is now shot bro!!!


This was when I had a revelation and created:




The rules are simple:




                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    1)Find 2 attractive girls on 2 different internet dating sites that both live in the same area.


2) Use a different e-mail address for each site, and then create a nickname for yourself on the second site (if you don't already have one).     

 *note: Douchy nicknames like “D-money”, “J-Drizzle”, “HEF” or “Monkey” do not earn you points.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            3) On dating site “A” (your first internet dating selection) Use your real first name and e-mail address. On dating site “B”(your runner up dating selection) use your nickname and secondary e-mail address.


4)Invite both dates to the same busy restaurant, and show up fashionably late...incognito. Ex: sunglasses and a hat. (don't draw attention to yourself)  Even though the “Dildo hat”  and creative sexual inuend0 shirt works for some, you are trying to score a real date.


5)Get a good look at both of your dating prospects. Make sure you understand their demeanor and judge their body language towards other dudes. If they are too hotand slutty, you will find yourself alone even if you indulge them with massive amounts of booze and/ or free drugs. If she is too obnoxious and loud you will find yourself alone...because there aren't enough drugs in the world to sedate you or your laughing hyena to a tolerable level. What you are looking for is the quiet girl that is patiently waiting for you....and only you. 


6)Make your selection...wisely


7)Assuming that you have been keeping in contact via text or phone conversation. Notify the unfortunate runner up that you will not be able to make it to the restaurant to meet them. Give them a solid reason that would illiminate any chance of you actually making it out for the evening.

  • You were arrested for molestation

  • you're car broke down in Baghdad

  • You were attacked by a pack of African pygmy Snipe

  • You completely forgot about your appointment to be castrated by monks the next morning.

  • Your wife wanted you to take the kids for the night so she could have drinks with the girls.


When “runner up girl” receives your message, she will likely get up and leave immediately. Though upset, and possibly heart broken...she deserves better than an internet scavenging douche-bag like you.


8)Finally: Make sure she doesn't see your douche-bag face as she exits the building. Hide...face the opposite direction, cover your face with a menu....we have

already come to the conclusion that you are a douche-bag with no soul. Save your own face.



If you forget any of these rules when using “THE WORLDS DOUCHIEST INTERNET DATING TACTIC” or W.D.I.D.T, you will get caught. The likely hood of salvaging any sort of date with either of them is slim to none, even if you are exiting the situation as smoothly as a morning turd that followed a Metamucil bender from the previous day.



#26 W.D.I.D.T. Gone wrong



I found my first WDIDT victims on a couple of my favorite dating sites. On “Plenty of fish” I met Samantha. On “Hot or not” I met Jennifer. Both were very attractive in different ways. They both seemed like a lot of fun to go out with, and I was a little surprised at how difficult it was for both of them to find a decent guy to gain some interest in either of them.

They had both just recently gotten out of long term relationships so I can understand the psychological desire to want to get right back into another relationship and be comfortable again. This understanding also makes both of them easy targets for a one night stand.

I had followed the WDIDT guidelines to a “T”. That was until I got to the popular Italian restaurant that I was slated to meet them both at.

I had accidentally gotten to the restaurant early, because my cell-phone ran out of juice; and it was my only clock. I put on my hat and shades and proceeded my course into the joint anyways, in hopes that I could find an outlet to power up my “bad decisions mouse”.

I sat at the bar for a minute as the bar tender plugged in my phone. I took a shot of tequila to calm my nerves and then I nursed a beer for a minute as I looked around the restaurant. Oh shit! That is Samantha in the booth over by the Salad bar...and she actually looks just like her profile picture.

The restaurant was well lit so it was unmistakeably Samantha that I was drooling over. I hadn't been having a lot of luck with internet hussies actually looking like their profile pictures lately, so I decided to go against WDIDT code and just went for the first one.




    I sat down across from her and introduced myself. We shot off a little bit of small talk about the drive to the restaurant and Blah, blah blah....I asked our waiter for a wine list and as we were looking it over I grabbed my cell phone and hid it behind the menu I was reading. I let Jennifer know that I had just come down with a terrible case of life threatening hemorrhoids or some such shit and proceeded to flirt with Samantha.

    Samantha was mildly entertaining, she was also blonde which is usually against my dating standards. I have only dated a small hand full of blondes and every last one of them was a huge mistake. However Samantha had a thick curvy body that I could easily mistake for a Latina....which kind of works for me. She wasn't a natural blonde by any means....Ditzy? Yeah! But in a cute and surprisingly intellectual way. It wasn't one of those cases where you just feel sorry for them for lacking the brain cells to have a fruitful conversation.

On that note...I did notice Samantha huddling over her phone while hiding behind her wine list as well. At least we are on the same page (No pun intended)


S: “oh shit”

H: “what?

S: “My cousin just got ditched”

H: “Well, I am sorry to hear that”. “Is he stranded somewhere?”

S: “It's a she, and she is actually here in this restaurant.” “We were hoping for a double date, would you mind if she joined us? “Sorry if that is weird, she was totally into this guy, and getting stood up has been a huge issue lately.”

H: “No, problem, the more the merrier. Where is she now?”

S: “Right there at the bar.”


Samantha pointed at what I can only describe as “an angel”. She was wearing a short white skirt. She had big green eyes and had a perfectly distributed fake and bake tan that I can only imagine covered all of her parts. Her hair was straight and just long enough to cover the most perfect natural breasts that god bestowed upon the human race.

She didn't walk.....she glided through the bar. She had the confidence and grace of a queen. She stopped in front of our table and spoke with the voice of an angel.


J: Well another one bites the dust I guess? (as she firmly placed her palms onto the table with her fingers extended to show the tan line where her engagement ring used to be)


Samantha and I looked at each other with a very fake frown of disbelief. Samantha tried to pretend that she didn't just tell me about Jennifer's epic date failure. I was putting on the fake: “I don't want fuck your cousin face, towards Samantha.


If I could paint perfection, it would still look like a walrusmule next to Jennifer. Jennifer is the kind of girl that guys pay big money on the internet to watch fucking some other dude. She is the epitome of sexual desire. Strippers would be jealous, and most porn stars look like a can of cheap cat food next to this girl.


S: Jennifer has had the worst luck with dating lately. Every guy she goes out with turns out to be a douche-bag or just doesn't show up. The last guy she went out with turned out to be married and his poor wife was in the hospital with a brain tumor.

H: Despicable!!!

J: Ya, before that I dated a guy that had a girlfriend that he had just proposed to, the guy before that was a closet homosexual that was trying to show his dad that he wasn't actually gay by going out with some random girl.

H: Wow, what a bunch of dicks.

S: Seriously! Jennifer hasn't been laid in like 2 years.

J: It has been so long that I don't even remember what it is like.


I wanted to just ravage Jennifer right there at the dinner table like a caveman. She had the sexual aura of a Tantric sex maniac.


J: I used to love sex! My boyfriend and I stopped doing it after I had my kid. I guess I put on a few pounds during the pregnancy, but I have been hitting the gym and I eat really healthy. I'm in better shape now than I have ever been.

H: No shit!

J: What?

H: oh, you just look like you're in good shape.

J: Well, my asshole ex-boyfriend left me because I couldn't shake the weight fast enough.

H: What a dick!!


  I ran through all of the girlfriends in my past that I routinely took jogging, hiking and to the gym to try to get them into fuckable shape.

It hadn't even really occurred to me until now that I was kneeling at the altar in church of douchology as my passage was being recited to me.


H: So, what kind of guy are you looking for?

J: At this point? Any. I haven't been able to express myself sexually in years. I want to see what my new body can do in the sack.

Jennifer stands up and shakes her perfectly sculpted body in front of the dinner table in the most fashionable public salsa dance routine I have ever seen. I could see the lines of her g-string underwear on her butt-crack as her white miniskirt was scrunching up into every crevice that the material would allow it to go.

Jennifer sat back down next to me and grabbed my hands. She looked into my eyes and said: “If you have any single guy friends in the area, that just want a fun night with a girl that is easy to please. I just want a night of hot steamy strings attached. Here is my number...


As she handed me her phone number (that she had written on a beer coaster). She whispered the words: “If they look anything like you mister, you get bonus points”. If I had anything in my stomach at that point, I am pretty sure that I would have shit my pants with it at that very moment..


I looked over at Samantha who started to look like a crossbreed of a sperm whale and a basset hound.


S: “Too bad he is taken”

H: “What”?!!

J: “Yeah, seriously. I bet you could have us both walking bow legged by tomorrow if you wanted.”

S: or just me (she looks me straight in the eyes)

H: (my lips crinkled a bit, like I had just kissed an open faced lemon) “Well, yeah I guess so?”

J: This guy that ditched me tonight could have had the time of his life. I was going to get a hotel with a hot tub, a bottle of champagne and I even bought some candles from Lover's package that turn into massage oil when you light them. (Btw, this is my favorite sexual sensation)

J:I have actually even been craving the feeling of giving a blow job, I love the way a man feels in my mouth. (scratch previous favorite sexual sensation)


I couldn't believe the things she was saying. This was my dream girl in the flesh. I was connected to her in a way I have never felt before.....(beyond the blow job and melting massage oil talk). I would have chopped off a limb with a smile just to snuggle with this girl.

Jennifer pulled her phone out of her purse and started scrolling through pictures. She showed me the screen which revealed a picture that I was much to familiar with. Jennifer spouted the words: “this was my dream man”.


It was me.


It was one of those ridiculous self shot photos that I used to lure sweet beautiful girls like Jennifer in for the sole purpose to just have my way with. It was a shirtless body shot that I had taken a few months prior, right after a workout. I thought the photo made me look incredibly homosexual but, girls loved it for some reason.





    I had been holding in a pretty substantial amount of liquid during my hour and a half drive to Tacoma and the shot and the beer had just pushed it to an uncomfortable level. I excused myself to go use the restroom. I left my phone on the table and bolted for the Men's room on the opposite side of the restaurant.

When I came back, Samantha had a puzzled look on her face.

Apparently while I was re-leaving myself; Jennifer had texted me to ask when we could have our rain-check date. Of course my phone lit up immediately after she had sent her query and the name Jennifer had shown up as the sender.

I had been caught.


I turned bright red and started to sweat. This was about the time that I was starting to learn that coming clean was the best and only way to properly un-fuck yourself.

I explained that I was having a lot of failure in my recent meetings with girls off of the internet and that most of them didn’t look anything like their profile photos, so I went in with the intention to pick the most attractive of the two dates and let the other one down easy.


S: So you tell her that you have come down with a life threatening case of Hemorrhoids? Are you high?!

J: So you picked Samantha?

H: Well, not exactly. I just saw her first and since she actually looked like her profile picture I just went for it.

S: So who would you choose now?


This is when I decide that lying to girls isn't always that long as it is a white lie and no one gets butt-hurt.


H: Jennifer

S: Well that's kind of fucked up

J: *All smiles*

S: Well, you can't have either of us now that we think you are a pig.

H: Oh, I know I'm a pig too. Believe me if I could have you both it would be the ideal situation. However, now that you both know the truth, I should probably just go.

S: You're not getting off that easy bro. You have to buy us both a shot and a beer and maybe we will think about forgiving you.....and maybe we won't.

H: Haha, Fair enough.


    A beer and a shot turned into 4 beers and 5 shots. The next thing I knew we were at a karaoke bar downtown. Jennifer had signed Samantha and I up to sing some Jimmy buffet tune that neither one of us had ever heard....we failed. She tried to tell us it was margaritaville and I just assumed that if we had gotten onstage, the crowd would have just drowned us out so no one would hear us fuck up the song. Instead, we butchered “Cheeseburger in paradise” and left the stage with our heads down and our tails between our legs. Luckily we were too drunk to actually be embarrassed.


J: "You know if you didn't want to be on the stage you could have just walked away."


    She had a point. In a way, I think both of us wanted it to be a train wreck. This date had started off so ridiculous we might as well just keep the momentum and completely destroy it. We watched the rest of the competitors wail out their renditions of Garth Brooks, and.....well mostly just Garth Brooks.

    We were all drunker than a hundred Indians on the fourth of July. Samantha asked if I wanted to go to a party at her brother's house. “Yeah, why not?” I replied. I was looking at Jennifer hoping she would show a sign of interest. She shrugged her shoulders and said “Fuck it, let's go”.

    We got to the “party” which was in the ghetto of Tacoma. The Hilltop district...which is like Washington State's version of Compton.

    Samantha's brother “Charlie”was naturally a “Wigger”. He claimed to represent the Hilltop Crips. His clothes were much too large for his 5'4” 120lb pasty white frame. He just looked ridiculous. He even had a pager. This was 2008, the vast majority of the real world hadn't owned or seen a pager for the better part of a decade.


His one bedroom apartment was a trash heap in the middle of a pile of sticks and some drywall. His couch...or what was left of it looked like it had been a chew toy for the last remaining family of Wooly mammoths since the ice age. The remnances of everything that Charlie had eaten in the past year was scattered over what used to be a floor and a counter top. The house would have been slightly improved if it at least smelled like shit, because the smell that emitted from Charlies apartment made shit smell like Kim Kardashian's hair after a long morning shower.

The culprit of the foul odor that surrounded Charlie's apartment was his Pit-Bull “Tyrone”. Tyrone was a Gator-Head Pit bull, so he looked ferocious and hungry. He had a spiked collar which slightly added to his fierce appearance, until he walks up to you like a puppy and starts licking your face. He was very sweet and well behaved. I was convinced at that moment that the only thing that Tyrone would ever intend to kill is a bowl of Kibbles n' Bits.

Charlie drove an early 90's Chevy S-10 pickup. It was beat to shit but Charlie decided to spend the extra bucks to have it lowered and installed ground effects to further accentuate its incredible ghettoness. Unfortunately Charlie is not exactly a Rhodes Scholar and he installed his ground effects too low so every time he hit a bump or a pot-hole it took a chunk out of the fiberglass leaving just a layer of shredded ugly on the bottom of his ghetto-buggy.

One thing Charlie did master, was the art of car stereo installation. Charlie had without a doubt in my mind; The loudest stereo that anyone has ever installed into a two seat truck. Not to sound like a crotchety old bastard but, Why on earth would you ever need your music up that loud?

One thing I do know is that if I was as small and ridiculous looking as Charlie, the last thing I would ever do is try to draw attention to myself.


Even though Charlie was a Wigger with a Napoleon complex, he did know how to party like a son of a bitch, so we got along just fine. We had a few shotgunning contests in the living room and threw the empty cans into a pile of other empty beer cans like we were wide receivers in the NFL celebrating a touchdown at the Superbowl. I suddenly wondered what it would be like if someone like Charlie actually found a girlfriend and procreated. What would his girlfriend look like? And more importantly, what would those poor kids end up amounting to with Charlie as a father. I suppose if you grow up with no standards you will never be disappointed.

We partied hard until 3 or 4 am until Charlie announced that he had to be at work in 4 hours. None of us were in any condition to drive so Samantha suggested we sleep on the couch and the floor. Samantha also informed me that she was going to need a spooning partner, so I jokingly offered her cousin Jennifer.

Samantha searched high and low for pillows and blankets from the closet down the short hallway leading to Charlie's bedroom. No Avail.


S: Well I guess you are going to have to be my pillow and blanket tonight.

H: “Doesn't bother me”. (Even though I would much rather be Jennifer's “pillow and blanket”)


Jennifer offered to take the floor at the foot of the couch...which was the only clean spot in the apartment. She curled up in the fetal position just underneath where my head laid on the couch. Samantha crawled onto the couch next to me, blocking my view of Jennifer's face. Jennifer reached up and turned off the last remaining light in the room, which was the lamp directly above her head on a small coffee table made from an old wooden spool.

The room was pitch black, and we were asleep within minutes.


    I woke up a few hours later with the worst case of morning wood, the world has ever known. This was the kind of boner you could break bricks with. To make matters worse, Samantha had me pinned against the back of the couch so my morning wood was digging right into her ass crack. If I moved, she would inevitably wake up. If I don't re-adjust; my morning wood would just stay morning wood until it got dislodged from between her cheeks. Samantha, may not be the full package that Jennifer was, but she had the Kim Kardashian bubble butt thing going for her. Having my morning wood lodged in such a nice warm place, certainly didn't create any emotional disturbance.

I could hear Jennifer snoring just a couple of feet from my head. I came up with a game plan. The next time Jennifer lets out a snore, I was going to re-adjust so I could dislodge my manhood and take my mind off of Samantha's amazingly curvacious derriere. I was fully prepared to make a quick removal of the flesh wedgie that I was giving Samantha....(it was a brilliant plan) I was waiting for what seemed like minutes, and it was nothing but silence. “Come on Jennifer, give me one good snore so I can get rid of this monster”. I thought. I held my breath and got ready for the big move. I was going to pivot my way out of this couch/human sandwich with the smoothness of a fresh Brazilian wax, and sleep soundly....Then it happened.


Samantha pressed her impressive lady lumps into my crotch. I gasped! She pushed herself on me one more time, even harder and I grunted uncontrollably. She turned her head towards mine and whispered:


S: Well, hello there stranger. Do you need a little help with that?

H: Oh, i didn't mean to wake you up (I whispered back). 

S: I've been awake for the whole night. 

She unbuttoned my pants and started playing with me.


S: “Impressive” (she whispered)


    I didn't know if she was impressed with my size or the fact that it was harder than any element on the periodic table of elements. I could have cut diamond plates with my manhood without even flinching at this point.

I suppose with the combination of working too much, playing in multiple bands, and family time, I hadn't taken the time to service myself in 4-5 days. I was about to erupt a multiple rope shot of knuckle children that could drown a Grey Whale.

She torqued on my member like it was a farm raised trout that was trying to escape her grip in a fast moving river. I was powerless. It was a matter of a couple of minutes before she whispered “SSSHHHHHHHH!!!” into my ear and 4-5 days worth of baby batter went flying into the air.

    We both heard a series of thuds as the Pearl Jam hit whatever targets were destined for their immanent arrival. Neither one of us cared where any of it landed. The place was a pit, so I may have made an improvement by covering some of the garbage on the floor with my seed.

    Throughout all of my heavy breathing I just hoped that Jennifer hadn't woken up in the middle of it. She was after all; the girl I was actually interested in. When Samantha was servicing me on the couch all I could think about was Jennifer. I was still buzzed enough to not really feel guilty about fooling around with Samantha while I was within an arm's reach of Jennifer. I was also buzzed enough to forget to properly thank Samantha for the friendly gesture that she had performed on me before I passed out.


I woke up at the crack of noon to the sound of panic.


J: OWWWWWWWW, What the fuck!!!!

S: Jenny whats wrong?


Jennifer was sitting on the ground right in front of us holding her left eye like she had been punched. Her voice was muffled by her hands that were covering her face.


J: “Something bit me in the eye! I think it was a spider or something” ( It wouldn't have surprised me, the place probably hadn't been cleaned in years) There were probably relics of animals that hadn't been seen in centuries in the piles of crap in Charlie's living room.

S: Let me see.


Jennifer took her hands off of her eye and an amazingly disgusting, and seemingly streaming tablespoon of what we assumed was puss, dribbled onto the floor and on to Jennifer's pants. The commotion that we were creating must have sounded like an invitation to Tyrone because he was instantly drawn to Jennifer's cries.

Her eye was bright red and puffy. She was squinting, but you could still make out the bright red through the small slit of her eye.

Tyrone, still excited over the commotion; knocked her over like an orange traffic cone during a driving test for an 85 year old Asian woman. He licked her face clean from all of the puss that had generated from her eye. Jennifer tried to fight Tyrone off, but he is a beast. Jennifer stood up and tried to divert Tyrone from the small amount of mystery liquid that was pouring out of her eye.

My head was still spinning from the beer and shots from the karaoke bar and the beer chugging contests. I was groggy and dehydrated.

As I laid there watching Tyrone give Jennifer a full body tongue bath, I reminisced on our night. The awkward meeting, the shots and beers that I had to buy to make everything hunky dory rang through my head. The Karaoke trick that Jennifer pulled on us, the random after party...etc. I thought for sure that they were going to send me home in a body cast, or castrate me in my sleep....if anything. I was chuckling madly at the situation that had come about from failing the WDIDT. I got lucky this time.

The WDIDT is diabolical and wrong...I know that now. There is plenty of time in this life to go out on a few blind/ mystery dates and know right off the bat that it just isn't going to work out in the long run. Whether she has a horse face and a family that is constructed of 10 generations of inbreeding, or you are unfortunately horse faced yourself, and have the genitalia of a small field mouse. Sometimes it just wasn't meant to be.

These girls on the other hand, took me out to a party, got me wasted and gave me a place to stay....even if it was incredibly uncomfortable. Even after we all knew that I am a certifiable douche, and confirmed that I wasn't worthy to date either of them....or anybody for that matter.

Jennifer was still holding her eye as Tyrone was lapping the remains of the liquid off of the jeans that she had put on under her skirt. The liquid was giving me a great view of the skin underneath her thin white skirt. It was amazing. You would think she was a stripper or something. The fake-n-Bake tan looked stunning on her.

Jennifer stumbled to the bathroom while covering her eye. Tyrone followed her as if she had a ham hock shoved down her pants. She locked the door behind her, leaving Tyrone in the hallway.

Samantha was laughing uncontrollably and it was annoying.

H:What the scunt is so fucking funny Samantha? And what is wrong with Jennifer's eye? ( I was hungover and dehydrated, and apparently every nerve in my brain hated me passionately)

S: Are you missing some brain cells today?

H: Yeah probably, why?

S: Dude, she didn't get bit by a spider.

H: how do you know?

S: think about it...what happened last night? And where do you think it went?


Suddenly I had recalled our brief soiree in the middle of the night. My jaw dropped suddenly as I realized what had just happened.

H: Ohhhhhhh!

S: You're welcome by the way.

H: Oh fuckballs! I 'm sorry, I mean thank you!

S: You should thank Jennifer...she is the one that took it in the face for you.

H: you aren't going to tell her are you?

S: why, do you still like her better than me?

H: Well, sort of. I just think she is hotter than you, and has lower standards because she used to be fat and homely so she is more likely to service me regularly because of her insecurities....


Ok, to be fair: that was my exact thought process and, I may be a douche, but I actually said something pussy like : “I feel like I have a better connection with Jennifer than I do with you” (to avoid going over the douche-bag limit and getting beat up by a girl.)

I was still way too hungover to find any hilarity in the situation. I either needed to get hydrated or re-drunk immediately. Not only that, but I needed to find my way out of the ghetto as quickly as possible.

I knocked on the bathroom door to said goodbye to Jennifer.

Samantha was still chuckling uncontrollably on the couch. Jennifer had been in the bathroom long enough to allow Tyrone to lose interest in whatever snack that Jennifer had magically started producing from her eye. She simply shouted “Drive safe, and nice to meet you” over the bathroom ceiling fan's impressive gargle.

I hugged Samantha goodbye, and she planted a big wet kiss on my lips. She quickly put her pointer finger up to my lips as we parted and she said: “Jennifer got bit by a spider right?”. I chuckled with the last bit of energy that I had and said “Yep!”

I was about half way home after I guzzled 2 bottles of Gatorade, and knocked down the greasiest burger I could find in Tacoma. I was finally sober and well enough to laugh about what had just happened.

Some girl that I just met off the internet unknowingly jerked me off onto her cousin's face and a dog licked it off. Are you serious???!?! That is fucking crazy. I'm moving to Tacoma!!

    As the weeks went by, I stayed in contact with both of the girls. I would plant seeds to further inject myself into Jennifer's intensely sexual and seemingly desperate mind about how perfect she was and that any guy would be lucky to have her(in hopes that some day, she may actually want my spider to bite the vagina). I loosely stayed in contact with Samantha, mainly just to get updates on Jennifer. Word finally got back to Samantha that I was blatantly hitting on Jennifer via text message and that of course infuriated Samantha. It infuriated her so much in fact that she came clean (no pun intended) about who's "spider" bit her that fateful night. 

    This interaction basically painted me the color douchebag and neither one of them ever talked to me again. 




Even though, in a very twisted way; I sort of got what I wanted, but at the same time the fact that I got what I wanted forbid me to get what I wanted. Confusing as that may sound, the outcome left me high and dry (there we go with the puns again) but seeing as how it put me in the unfortunate situation of losing any possibillity of dating either one of them; I would label this one ridiculously bad date.....but, I am still moving to Tacoma....and possibly investing in a Pit-Bull




Callee (The Psychotic Psychologist)

12/14/2013 01:18





Really Bad Date #72




As a bar tender, there are a lot of rules to follow in order to cover your ass. This day and age, you can actually legally blame your bartender for over serving you if you get into some sort of legal trouble.  You're bartender is also responsible for any fatallities that might occur in a drunk driving accident. On the other hand, being a bartender also has a plethora of plusses. For one; you are in charge of how much the customer is allowed to drink for the night. You are also in charge of how much it will cost the customer, and if they get too also have the power to force them out of your bar without even having to make physical short, you are basically given the powers of god.

This power is acceptionally awesome if you are a single dude and you are interested in a single female customer. I have come up with a gazillion pick-up lines right off the top of my head. These pick-up lines are a magical gift that somehow was bestowed upon me, and I have no idea where they come from.  For whatever reason they have actually been proven successful for the most part. Sometimes they are just rediculous and stupid, but i say them with confidence and poise. This was the worst one that ever sort of worked...


        A very attractive girl walked up to the bar and asked if we had any specials. "Well, anything with booze in it is special isnt it?" I replied. "Haha, yeah i guess so" she belted back. 

        A couple more attractive girls walked up beside her (obviously her friends) and none of them knew what they wanted. I was pleased because I had recently come up with my own recipe book for drinks, and every last one of them has the name of a drug reference or sexual position.  I asked if she was lactose intolerant, and she looked at me like I had a ball sack tattoo'd on my forhead. "Nope" she said curiously. Do you like butterscotch milkshakes? I asked with a grin. "Who does'nt" she reported back while shrugging her shoulders. I had the attention of the two other girls, as well as the girl that was currently ordering.

"How do you feel about doggystyle"? I asked


Bwahahaha!!!  The two other girls cheered.

"No, really it's one of my own recipes" i chuckled back

"Whats in it?" the girls all synchopatedly chimed at me.

"Magic, Happy, Roofies, Viagra, and Unicorn Blood" I shot back with speed and precision.

"I will take a double!!" she giggled


I made her a doggystyle with a happy ending aka whipped cream and a cherry.  Her friends ordered a similar drink  called a "Reacharound" but insisted that a happy ending wasnt necessary because it was too messy. I asked who would be paying for the drinks and the first girl handed me her credit card. I happened to notice the last name on the card and couldn't help but bring up the fact that our last names were almost identical....We will just pretend my last name is "Hefner" to avoid any conflicts with true identity.


D: Wow, your a Hafner? Im a Hefner.
Hafner: "You're a Hefner? Well im am a Hafner..... from the Hefner clan. We are related in some way".

The worlds most in-bred pick-up line ever:

            "Well my sister,  I recommend we procreate immediately". (enter uproar from vast audience*) "Hear me out on this; Al Gore who is smart beyond all comprehension. I mean, really...he was so smart that he managed to get famous with his wife of a gazillion years "Tipper", they have four children together and no one even cares that he left his wife and family behind so he could have a hot young girlfriend from California. Call it what you will, but i think the genius move was putting out "An inconvenient truth" and after it became a hit with the media and sort of a "Psuedo Dianetics" for the future, he became more than a man but less than a god. It made people think about the future beyond our years. If all of the iceburgs melt and so do half of antarctica and the top of the northern hemisphere, the world would actually become mostly water right? Think about that for a moment. Most of our continents are relatively flat and it really wouldnt take a whole lot of water to cover everything. Creating a reallity to the movie  "Waterworld" essentially.Gore met a hot California girl that is an activist in avoiding global warming. It worked to his advantage in multiple ways. 1) It shows that there is more than one smart ass person on the planet that believes that the whole world is going to be water. 2) It was enough strong belief to break up what even the government called "a perfect marriage" 3) Why should'nt the rest of us uneducated people believe that the world is going to be water soon....or take marriage seriously. My plan for us, my to procreate immediately. We could have a "Flipper baby". and "Little Flipper" could swim us around in our beautiful "if slightly imbred" life together around the inevitable saturation of our planet.. 
Yes, i realize that the imbred part of the pick up line does destroy any possibility of hooking up with the original girl which I am not surprised by (nor am I offended). However, it starts a fire in the minds of other girls, and their immediate psyche. What would a girl think after hearing that pickup line?...
(dumb girls) What if Al Gore is right? 
(most girls) Procreating sounds fun, even if its just a scrimmage match.
(smart girls) well, at least he doesn't sound stupid, i'd hit that like a pinata.

I like to call that...turning inbred into funbred.


However, realistically; Ms. Hafner was immediately written off, on the other hand her friend Callee and I hit it off that night. She continued to come in almost every weekend for a while.  Her friends told me she was married so I kept the conversation very PG-13, but we definitely hit it off. Callee and I flirted pretty heavily whenever she would visit the casino for a drink, which made me a little inquisitive of her relationship , but I knew that she was married so I never really pursued her. She told me that she was "happily" married, but her husband never came out with her...."which is just friggin' dangerous". She would ask me to dance with her every time she came out to the casino where I was bar tending, and since I was working; I never was able to go out and dance with her. The more Callee would flirt with me, the more I wanted to see her. Unfortunately, the more she flirted, the more obvious she made herself  "Stand out"  that she needed attention that her husband wasn't giving her. 

After months of tormenting each other with flirty-babble, Callee came in to my casino one night and said that her husband and she were getting a divorce. It was precisely that same weekend that Luisa (my on and off girlfriend) was packing up the last of her shit and moving out of my house. The timing was perfect!!


Despite a long drawn out wait for each other to be single, Callee and I officially just had our first real date on Halloween 2012 it was almost immediately following the day she served her husband divorce papers. I don't feel like I really got the whole story of why she and her husband were getting a divorce. I've heard her side and it seems kind of half-assed. She claims he is a serious alcoholic and his parents don't really like her. However, from what I understand from word of mouth: He treats her well, and it sounds like the guy is willing to tolerate her bullshit (which is more than most guys will do).

Callee had just gotten her psychology degree from Evergreen State University, which is kind of a hippie/lesbian school where you can actually make up your own degree and syllabus , so unfortunately with a degree like that... It bears very little credibility in my mind. It is almost impossible to start a career with a psychology or sociology degree. let alone one you can make up along the way, and even if you can find a job in the field that you magically created, it usually starts with a long internship which means she is not actually making money, but she is still working all the time. I can assume from her interest in that field that she is very good at reading people. However, she must have read me wrong, and that is why she was willing to go out with me.

I don't come off as a crazy guy when you first meet me, in fact I don't really think of myself as crazy either. Maybe just a little goofy, promiscuous and free-spirited. I work out pretty regularly so, despite my beer drinking and terrible diet I appear to be extremely healthy, so no one would guess that I go on regular benders and go out with random “Bad decision” girls with absolutely no intention other than to simply have a story to write about them later. I'm what most of the clam bumping female psychology majors from Evergreen state University would refer to as “A sick, misogynistic, chauvinistic pig”. Which frankly I would consider an understatement.


This Halloween weekend started off with a bottle of tequila and a bunch of broken promises with girls. One of them being “Kristina” the banker. Which just so happened to be, the mother of the four-year-old that I was supposed to go take trick-or-treating this Halloween, however I had woken up at the crack of 4:30 in the afternoon. Which just so happened to be the exact time that we were supposed to actually be trick-or-treating. Unfortunately for both of them, I give such a small amount of fuck that I didn't even bother to call with an excuse.

I was still so tequila drunk that I was crawling to the shower. I proceeded to fabricate my usual hangover cure with a couple of Percocets and some vitamin water....and more tequila of course. I took a scalding hot shower and just as soon as it all started to kick in Callee had sent a text message to me that said she wanted to go out with me for Halloween. Of course by this time I'm feeling pretty good and agreed to the date. I put on my costume, which made me about 4 inches taller, (which is awesome because at a mere 5'9”....I'm kind of short) and I wore a dread-locked wig, (which made me appear as though that I have hair.... “awesome hair!”). So I was feeling pretty good about myself. Not to mention the 1/2 of a Cialis I took in the middle of my tequila, percocet bender so I could pretty much perform sexually anywhere...with any thing.... at any time....and on top of that; not only could I do it over and over, but it felt better every time. It was like having Superjunk.

She explained that she had moved in with a friend during the divorce process and texted me the address and said that she would be ready at 7. I pounded down a couple more shots of tequila to wash down another round of the vitamin P's, took a toke of some awesome medical marijuana that I had scored from some other dick magnet that spent the night a couple nights prior. I packed my freshly used one-hitter (that conveniently looks like a metal cigarette) into my pocket, and headed out the door. I pulled up to the house right at 7pm, it was just starting to get dark but I could see everything very clearly. Much to my surprise there was a police car in the driveway of the house that Callee had told me she was staying at. As it turns out she was staying with the 36 -year-old cop, his three-year-old son and his 19-year-old hardcore christian girlfriend. Needless to say, showing up to my date's house with a cop car parked in front while wasted on a cocktail of drugs, alcohol and debauchery seemed like a pretty bad idea in itself, but even at the risk of going to jail I was committed to this date because I can't stop myself from kicking the sleeping bear.





The cop, his son and the girlfriend were all standing outside getting ready to go inside from trick-or-treating so there really was no turning back even if I was so inclined to do so. I sort of stumbled up to the front door where they were standing in front of their surprisingly large and luxurious house. They had already started decorating for was weird.

I introduced myself quietly and tried to talk out of the corner of my mouth so no one could get a whiff of the weed that I had just smoked or the tequila that I had just downed 3 minutes ago. Ryan the cop was fairly soft spoken but polite, as was his girlfriend. His son Jake kind of hid behind the girlfriends butt as I tried to introduce myself. Lets face it, I was dressed up as a cross between Brett Micheals and The predator. I would be scared too. He invited me into the house and said “wait here”.


So there I was wasted on Tequila, Percocet, weed, and Cialis waiting for Callee to come down from her room. I was lucky enough to have created a costume where where I had kind of a heroin junkie rockstar theme going on, complete with eye make-up. So, my eyes were relatively disguised even when I took my sunglasses off. I could comfortably look someone straight in the eyes because they would never know, so as a precursor to not blowing my cover, I made eye contact with everyone that I talked to, especially the cop. The second wind of percocet was starting to take hold but, I could feel free to scratch an itch anywhere I wanted to because I was wearing a wig. (For those who don't actually know: copious amounts of Percocet makes people itch).

When Callee came downstairs she looked hotter than the stove top of Hell's kitchen, she kinda reminds me of my first girlfriend Jessica but hotter....crazier..... and sluttier. Her costume accentuated her crazy-slutty-hotness as well. She was a slutty Ladybug, complete with wings. Her hair was short but all over the place like she had just finished having an orgy with a gang of Tibetan Yaks in a blanket factory.


Callee had a magnificent set of headlights that were heaving themselves out of the seams of her silver costume top. I was turned on and ready to start our halloween bar hopping adventure.....but probably should have squeezed off the easy one before I left the house. I was a little too eager to get down to business.

    The first bar that we went to was called Peaks bar in Port Angeles, Washington. It's kind of a little dive where the locals (that aren't afraid to admit to being the town drunk) show up and quietly get wasted. It is not a club by any means. Just a hole in the wall bar, and for some reason or another, this is the kind of place Callee really likes. I suppose I can kind of understand that, since she comes from a very small town in the middle of nowhere, and she likes to be the center of attention. When you're in a bar that small and the majority of the patrons are lonely drunk men, you can only imagine the attention she gets when she walks in being the hottest thing that's walked in to their lives in months.

It's funny how open and honest people are after a few drinks, especially when they're lonely. We had probably been sitting down having a beer for all of 10 seconds before one of the barflies walked up and complimented Callee on how hot she looked, of course he noticed me sitting next to her and had to make some sort of comment on my appearance too, so it didn't look like they were blatantly hitting on her. They asked her if I was her date and then said that we were very attractive couple. Neither one of us argued, we were officially on a date.

We had been sort of touchy-feely for a while but had never really taken the next step. The bartender wench offered to take a picture of us in our Halloween costumes, so that was when I decided I should go in for a kiss and it was a doozy. It was the kind of passionate kiss that you would normally experience while making love to somebody that you were actually in love with. I was instantly in heat. The Cialis that had been surging through my system, punched my Boner rate down my pant leg and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom to adjust. I was starting to get antsy at this point because I felt like she had this sexual aura about her that made her appear as though she was just ready to go anytime, and since the place was dead. It gave me an excuse to lead her out of that bar and straight my car where I had hoped that she would want to fool around for a little bit. Since we had already gotten to the next step; I knew that we were into each other physically and I was...well “prepared”.

My theory is as follows: if she will make out with you in public, she will let you feel her up in public, if she lets you feel her up in public, she will let you play with her muffin, if she lets you play with her muffin, she will fondle you , if she fondles you...Game On Bro, just find a place....Hell, find a port-o-potty!!. 

I was prepared to start at step 4 or 5 with Callee when we got to my car. Instead, i started getting bombarded with text messages from another girl that I was also interested in, as well as my ex-girlfriend Luisa (who I was still in love/ lust with). This is when I realized that I need to focus in on one girl at a time per night because I obviously don't do well when my cell phone is on and other girls want to hook up at the same time. I tend to just go for all of them at the same time. I call it going into “Hef Mode”.


What is “Hef Mode” exactly? You ask?:

As most men, and few fortunate women know; Hugh M Hefner was the original player. He started playboy magazine in the early 50's and created an empire based on exploiting beautiful, successful, and educated women. Even in his late 80's he is rarely seen in public without at least one girl on each arm and a good woman at home waiting for him. He has been documented as actively dating up to 7 girls at a time since the 60's....the man is a god!!! When I go into “Hef mode”, I thank god that there is a living being to live up to in the highest standards of the sexual revolution.

The other girl that I was interested in is a Hooters girl named Kirsten, For those who don't know me, Hooters girls are Hef's Kryptonite. I have dated Hooters girls before and for whatever reason, I will choose them over any type of girl. They don't even have to speak English... in fact, I would prefer they don't speak it all. I love those sexy little Hooters outfits with their shorty shorts and tight tops with their push-up bras, making their tits look like mount Everest and k2 are trying to erupt right off of their chest cavity. It sends me into a downward spiral of lust like an incurable plague. Kirsten was in the area, so naturally I tried to tie the two dates together. I didn't even know if Kirsten was single. I didn't care. She is the epitome of my sexual appetite and currently I'm high on copious amounts of drugs, and on Cialis... and starting to get drunk.

Kirsten sent me a text message from the bar right down the street and I felt that it was in my best interest to take my current date there. Callee was actually okay with the idea even when I told her that we were meeting up with a Hooters girl at a different bar. I told her that I barely knew her, which is true and I also told her that I really had no interest in dating her....which was a lie. It was a short walk from my car to bar nine where we planned to meet up with Kirsten and on the way there I was starting to feel my stomach churn from the ridiculous amounts of tequila, beer, Cialis and Percocet that was starting to make a poisonous little cocktail in my guts.

(Myself with a few choice Hooter's Girls at a show somewhere..that's me in the middle=)


        I was trying to track down a lighter on the walk to the bar where Kirsten was waiting for us so I could light up a cigarette, because God knows I chain smoke when I'm starting to get my buzz on. Also, the cigarette and the cold might help put the old pork sword back in its flaccid sheath. I was walking like I had just sharted sulfuric acid. We got all the way to the front door of bar nine before I finally found a small group of fellow smokers. I politely asked Callee if we could hang out outside so I could smoke first. I huddled in with the smokers...oh thank god it was all ugly dudes. My boner went straight into the ground. I was trying to avoid kissing Callee so I could keep the ol' bone buried and walk normally again, but she didn't care. Every time we made eye contact she went in for a wet one. I happened to know the doorman so I didn't get carded, but she did. I always feel like it makes me look like a badass when I'm high-fiving the doorman, but it probably just makes me look like a barfly-drunk or a douchebag....or both.

We made our way up to the bar. I popped another couple of Percocet to try and even out the obnoxious bloodflow pushing toward my groin and washed them down with my Capt. Morgan and Coke. I bought her a beer and we headed back to the pool tables were set up. It was also where Kirsten was hanging out. I could pick Kirsten out of the crowd of a thousand people so it was easy to pick her out of the hundred or so that was in the bar. She radiates hotness. You don't even really need to see her at all. You can just feel the hotness radiate out of the crowd. She wasn't wearing a costume but she looked hot in anything that she wore. She could be wearing a White moomoo covered in Elephant shit, and still put every other girl in the bar to shame. When she saw me she got up and acted as if she had known me her whole life, which I really like. even though we've really only hung out once or twice. It made me kind of feel like I went out with the wrong girl for Halloween. I was in with a Hooters girl who happened to be the hottest girl in the bar. Callee wasn't impressed.

(Kirsten and I in the pool hall)


        Callee and I agreed to play pool on teams and I tried to get Kirsten to play on our opposing team, but she wouldn't do it. She said she would be our cheerleader, so she picked out a couple that was in line for us to play against. The girl was an adorable 4 foot nine blonde girl in some sort of S&M getup, and the guy was a beastly lumberjack. The lumberjack broke the pool balls up and he had some serious power behind it. I was actually rather intimidated by his size and force. He was a badass. The cute little blonde was very friendly and sweet and we sort of passed the phrase “God I suck at this” to each other at least 10 times throughout the game. I have a pretty vivid imagination, but when tons of drugs and booze come into play I start conjuring up ridiculous visions like putting antlers on people or imagining what the 4 foot nine inch blonde girl would look like, crossed with the big ass lumberjack....

(It certainly takes any intimidation away that I might be feeling towards the lumberjack.)


Kirsten performed her role as our cheerleader with cunning enthusiasm. She followed every shot of the game and cheered us on even though we sucked at it. Every time Kirsten got up to walk around I would catch myself staring at her ass and then I would look over it to Callee, who caught me staring at her ass. Whoops! Despite my eye groping and flirting with Kirsten, Callee and I were intermittently making out between every other shot or so. I think she started to get jealous that I was giving attention to another girl at the bar....a hot one. So she picked the closest guy to the pool table to strike up a conversation with, and started blatantly eyefucking every guy that walked by.

Callee was balls deep in a conversation with another random guy that she had just met and that's when I started to see it... Her desperate need for attention. Even though I was wholeheartedly trying paying attention to her the whole night, and keep her as my first priority, she felt the need to have more than one guy gawking over her, even if they were ugly. The guy she was talking to wasn't necessarily ugly, but he wasn't interested, and he knew that we were on a date. She kept pursuing him anyways, and that's when I started to get pissed.

I went outside and smoked a cigarette by myself and ran into a couple of girls out front that were all very flattering with compliments. Apparently my eyes look pretty rad when I am wasted on drugs and drunk while I'm wearing guyliner. Who knew? This smoke break gave me my confidence back. After watching my date eye fuck every other guy in the room it became more and more apparent what Callee's motive was this evening. It wasn't necessarily to have one guy to fool around with for the night. It was to have the attention from many and she got it. I was actually pretty disturbed at that point. I looked for Jessica so I could at least have somebody to talk to, because Callee had moved from that one guy to another guy in the corner who was by himself and looked lonely and miserable. I want to say that she was just being a good humanitarian and wanted to make this guy is feel wanted and appreciated, but honestly I think she just picked out a homely guy to get the extra attention that maybe I wasn't giving her. He had zero interest in her. It was more than obvious.

I wanted to get out of there so bad that I sort of threw the pool game that we were playing. I fucked up some of the easiest shots in the world just so the other team could beat us so we could leave. That was about when the Percocets started to really kick in like a freight train crashing into a mountain side. Callee was talking to the first guy she had been trying to suck attention out of when I exclaimed to her. It's your shot!!! and right as I exclaimed the word SHOT!! I threw up in my mouth and a little bit went up my nose.... And I'll tell you what folks; Percocet, Cialis, tequila, Captain Morgans, and beer vomit does not feel good running through your sinuses. My face turned bright red, but nobody saw me do it. It felt like I was about to give birth to a flaming porcupine through my nose holes. I quietly looked for a garbage can to spit out the cocktail of poison that was lingering in my mouth and sinuses. I tried desperately not to make eye contact with Callee because I knew that she was going to sneak in a smooch before it was her shot, but I failed. It wasn't really an open mouth kiss because I didn't open my mouth, but she started with her tongue and her lips followed. She has that vacuum like kiss where she actually likes to suck on your lips. It is a great feeling but, I couldn't help but feel incredibly sorry for her when I realized that she had just cleaned the spittle and vomit off of my lips unbeknownst to her. I stepped back and saw just a tiny drop of what was undeniably “my vomit” drip from the corner of her mouth. I winked at her as if everything was perfectly fine, but she gave me kind of a weird look as I looked around the room for a trash can. I finally found a trash can next to the bar and low and behold; there was Kirsten standing right next to it. Once again, I tried everything to avoid eye contact, but I had already trained myself throughout the course of the day to look everyone in the eyes no matter how desperately I wanted to avoid it. It was inevitable that I would look her right in the eye because I could see in my peripheral that she was looking right at me. I couldn't think of anything else to do. I had that nasty poisonous vomit in my mouth for a good solid 45 seconds and the smell was starting to emit from my nostrils. My cheeks were pushed out to the max and although Callee had sucked a slightly relieving amount out of my barf reservoir, I knew if I allowed myself to smell it for too much longer it would be a full blown projectile vomit so I did the unthinkable. Don't judge me.....



I swallowed it.




I was completely in shock and took a journey deep in my soul to avoid thinking about what I had just done to avoid a guttural aftershock. I shot Kirsten a very confident wink as she had no idea what kind of physical and psycological hell I was going through at that very moment. I ordered another Captain and Coke in hopes that I could wash the smell and taste of vomit out of my mouth. I used the first drink of my Capt. and Coke as kind of like gargle and just swished it around to get the chunks from out of my teeth. I no longer felt the need to projectile vomit, but I could smell the vomit breath coming out of my mouth every time that I talked to somebody, so I completely avoided Callee and Kirsten as I ordered a shot of Rumpleminz peppermint schnapps.

The pool game was finally over. We actually won by default, but we decided to quit playing, so we offered up our spot to whoever was next in line. I told Calllee that we should probably go to the next bar, which was called the cuckoo's nest to see you what was going on there, but really I was just trying to get her off of the homely guy that she was all over in the corner.

She was getting up and grabbing her purse when all of a sudden the song. “I've had the time of my life” from the “Dirty Dancing” soundtrack started playing. It was karaoke night and for the first time that whole evening somebody was able to carry a tune, so I asked her to dance....After all, nobody puts baby in the mother fucking corner.



To my surprise, we actually danced relatively elegantly together for being drunker than 10 Indians on Thanksgiving. She followed my lead with smiles and cheers with my cheesy drunken spins and dips. I was actually starting to have fun with her. We were making out intermittently throughout the beginning of the song. I always thought it was trashy when I was on the sidelines of the dance floor watching other people do this, but at this point of my drug driven drunken stoop-er I knew why people pull off this sleazy display of drunken debauchery. I forgot why, but I knew it at the time.

Before the song ended, she tried to get one of the guys that she was talking with earlier to dance with her. She asked me if it would be okay and I said “sure, I guess” because I am a huge pussy whipped pussy. He then proceeded to deny her so she came back to me on the dance floor and we finished the song together dirty dancing style, which ended with me picking her up off her feet and making out with her with my freshly peppermint schnapped vomit mouth. That was when we decided to leave and go to the cuckoo's nest.

Looking back, that was probably when I should have taken her home. Chances are pretty good that we were both sober enough to actually be able to fool around and remember it. Instead we went to the Coocoo's Nest Bar (kicks self in ass) . We pulled into the parking lot of the Coocoo's nest in Port Angeles about 3 miles away. Immediately after I parked, we started making out heavy and hard. We started groping each other, and she started to rub on my package which immediately got hard. So hard in fact, that when I leaned back to unhook Callee's bra it actually busted the seams on my pants. She asked if I had a condom and I said “yes, let's use it”, and she said “not yet. I want to go in and have a drink first”. I was actually starting to feel the redness in my face as I was getting upset about this. Why do girls do this? They get a man all riled up and asked the right questions, we give them the right answers, and then they would just want to save it for later. That to me is annoying. So with some reluctance, we went into the bar and it was pretty much dead. I said, “this was probably a really bad idea, we should probably just go back to your place and ravage each other”.


Once again, we started making out...things started looking up...Then...She whispered:

Well, lets just have one beer and then I'm all yours”. Well, pretty much anything sounds sexy when its being whispered in your ear by a hot chick and you are fully aroused. She could have whispered something like “I have explosive diarrhea, and my hemorrhoids are flaring up, so I should probably change my colostomy bag”. It wouldn't have made a difference at this point.

We hung out for a little bit and nursed beer at our own little two person table. We started talking about getting back to her place for a movie night and sensual massage. That was of course the same moment that she noticed the group of older gentlemen on the other side of the bar. She didn't even ask me if it was alright to flirt this time. She just bolted right towards them. She sat down pretty much right in the middle of them, which gave me no room to sit down next to her. I slowly walked my way towards the small crowd that was gathering around her. I stood behind her as she was explaining to them what she does for work. She teaches autistic children at the high school, which sounds very admirable on a first encounter even though she didn't actually get paid for it.

. The guys at the bar pretended to be interested in her conversation because she was the only girl in the bar, and she is pretty. She started clinging on to the guy sitting directly next to her and was proceeding to be very touchy-feely with him and despite the fact that she and I were kissing intermittently during her conversation (that was directed at everyone in the room), she proceeded to be blatantly slutty with this guy that she didn't even know. At this point I had completely lost interest in her. I was about to head for the door and just leave her there.. She was no longer my problem. I actually turned my head to look at the door and make my move. In my peripherals, I saw something beautiful....


Kirsten the Hooters girl walked in. I'm saved! I knew that flirting with Kirsten for a while might get Callee's attention. Callee was no longer the only girl in the bar. This could be the ultimate slut showdown!!

Kirsten is very down-to-earth and you can actually hold a conversation with her. So, I continue to do so while Callee tried to make a spectacle of herself with the local barflies. I had to pee all of a sudden so I bolted on the conversation I was having with Kirsten. “I'll be right back” I said.


I had the most philosophical pee of my life. I went over every aspect of every conversation that I had with Callee throughout the whole evening. What does it all mean? What did she mean by that last comment? Why does she keep flirting with everyone but me? We are on a date right? Shouldn't we be trying to get to know each other? I know I am better looking than any of the guys at the bar...ya, that is kind of vain but, there really isn't a whole lot of competition when the next youngest guy in the bar is 30 years older than you

I walked back to the bar where she was still surrounded by the same group of old men. I was fully prepared to just say “I am over this whole “Halloween date idea and I just want to take you home and never talk to you again”. Instead, when I tried to inject myself into the conversation, she turned to me in distress, with tears in her eyes. She said one of the guys in the group that she was talking to made fun of her, and they were all laughing at her. I guess I wasn't really paying attention to her alcohol intake, but by this time all of the shots that she had taken at the last bar were starting to kick in. She is one of those “sober to blackout, with no in between kind of drunks”. Unbeknownst to me.



Hef:What were they making fun of you for?

Callee:They call me a slut. (slightly slurring)

Hef: That's weird, why would they call you a slut? Because you're on a date with some guy, and you jumped into the middle of a group of guys and started flirting with all them? (sarcasm intended)

Callee: So you're not going to back me up on this?!?!?

Hef:No I think it's pretty slutty too!

Hef:Do you want another beer?

Callee: No, I want to leave.

Hef:Okay, fine, lets go.

Callee: Why is everyone being so mean? Every other guy tonight was really nice to me!

Hef:Are you starting to see a theme here? The first bar we went to you begged for attention, and got it. The second bar we went to, you begged for attention and got it. The third bar we went to you begged for attention, you got it, but they were honest with you, and now I'm being honest with you... You do in fact act like a slut.

Callee: Why can't you just stand up for me? I'm just trying to have fun! (noticeably intoxicated at this point)


This is when I become a little skeptical about her psychology degree. How could she not see this scenario from other peoples perspective? Don't they teach you this in college? “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck”... I was actually starting to believe that old theory about people becoming interested in psychology because they actually just want to find out what is wrong with themselves.


She packed up her purse and we left. On the drive home Callee continued to banter about how nobody stands up for her. This apparently was a problem in her relationship with her husband, who incidentally also calls her a slut. And that's when it got psycho.


She had been texting somebody throughout the course of the night, but never told me who it was and I didn't care, but I'm assuming it was her husband because that's who's house she wanted me to drop her off at after I had made it very clear that everybody she talked to throughout the course of the night thought she was a whore.

I was just about to fall asleep while driving. I had the heat all the way up, but my window was down all the way so I could stay awake. It was cold, but I needed the air flow to avoid the vom. Callee asked me to pull over at the Chevron a couple of miles before the exit that leads to both of our houses. She was very broad about her query and said that she just needed to “grab something from Chevron”. When we got there she didn't say anything, she just got out of my Explorer and slammed the door on the way out. She stomped quickly towards the door of the Chevron as a big white Chevy truck pulled up into the parking spot to the right of my car. I was thinking to myself “what is the purpose of lifting an unusually large truck, even higher?” My eyes were still focused on the front door of the Chevron. I was annoyed at this point. I thought that we were going to have a nice romantic body massage rubdown and possibly some much needed physical attention for both of us. I was imagining her body, naked and warm. I was envisioning how her hair would look the next morning after I had roughed her up. How could I make her sex hair be any more “sex hair” than it already was? I had planned on just grinding her head into the pillows no matter what we did, just to keep that hair crazy. I was so relaxed in this fantasy that I may have actually closed my eyes when I heard the CRASH!!! From my passenger side window. I was still entranced, but I slowly turned my head to the passenger side. I was slightly in shock, but I remember the red brick that bounced on my front passenger seat....because I still have it.

It was Callee's husband! I was in lala land thinking about this poor bastards wife, so I wasn't really coping with reality the way I should have. I didn't know what to expect if I were to have had an encounter with Callee's husband. I knew he worked for the government, but never heard any details. Somehow I imagined a beastly man. He sounded like a WWF wrestler screaming through his truck window. He kept shouting a lot of loud and hateful words out of his truck window and incongruously through my freshly broken window that were very vulgar and loud, but the only words I could make out were: cheating!, slut!, whore!, manwhore, and bitch!. I can only imagine that he was on the phone with her as she was in the store but aimed his vulgarity through my broken window. I boggled those words in my head as if he was yelling them at me alone, and as calm and relaxed as I was, all I could think of at that point was....”dude my car didn't have sex with your wife, it wasn't even thinking about it”. He opened the seemingly gigantic door that I would have thought to clear the top of my explorer judging by the lift of his truck. I could only see his feet hit the sidestep of his truck both at the same time like he was trying to break it off of his truck. He stopped for a second to shut the door of his truck and to adjust his underwear out of his asscrack (I only assume) I was still very relaxed, maybe due to the drugs and booze or perhaps the shotgun that I had planted comfortably in my lap after the brick flew through my window and his truck door opened up. I still never leave home without a shotgun behind the seat. Nothing quite says: im not here to play like a 12 guage. Nonetheless I was curious what kind of story had been fabricated by his wife to make me look like the bad guy. I was prepared for a full blown blood bath. He got to my window and saw the gun. I calmly asked him to “step inside my office.”


Hubby:What are you gonna shoot me?



His eyes widened as I picked up my shotgun and slowly stashed it in the back seat.


Me: im just kidding man. Hop in the car I think we need to talk.

Hubby: haha ok.


He got in and I calmly explained the whole story to him about the bars and her attention whoredom. Callee had apparently fabricated a lie that I hit her in the face at a bar and needed a ride from Chevron. Apparently this scenario had happened a time or two, which was the real reason he was divorcing her. Thats right....HE served HER the divorce papers. He said he worked a lot and really wasn't very affectionate with her in the first place. He wasn't ever really into her, and the crazy shit she was doing was getting out of hand. He apologized for the window and offered to pay for it. I told him that Callee should be the one to pay for it since it was her fault. He agreed.


We started our vehicles and planned on abandoning Callee. She raced out of the store like a bat out of hell and She yelled to her hubby “can I at least get a ride home with you?” He poked his head out of His rig and said "Ummmm, No sweetheart, you can walk from here".


We both peeled out from opposite ends of the Chevron parking lot in opposite directions. I drove home alone, frustrated, annoyed and once again losing another glimmer of faith in the opposite sex. Not to mention its 30 degrees outside and I don't have a passenger window, destroying any possibility of going back to the Coocoos nest to try and start a fire with Kirsten.

Callee had toyed with me, and every guy in every bar that she went to with me that night. Maybe just for attention that her husband wasn't giving her. Maybe she just wanted her husband to know that she was desirable to other men, so he would see what a great catch she was and he should appreciate her more. Maybe she is actually a succubus from the depths of Hell and farts fire. Who knows...either way...


That was one really bad date







As a follow up: Callee did bring a blank check into my workplace a week or two later for the passenger window for my Explorer. She came with a companion....any guesses? Believe it or not, it was the guy that showed no interest in her at all from the second bar. I am certainly no psychologist but does anyone see the pattern?


Savannah (the Armenian kidnapping date)

12/04/2013 01:39



accidentally Kidnapping an Armenian princess


Really bad date # 3



Back in 1999, I was your stereotypical 19 year old surfer dude…that didn’t actually know how to surf. I was just starting to discover the internet when AOL was really the only form of Internet dating. This was before the times of cutting and pasting some douchy opening line and then picking out the 60 hottest girls on the site within a hundred miles of where you lived and picking out the one that seemed the most interested. This was about the time when dinosaurs ruled the earth and you plugged in a 56k modem to your phone line and couldn't use the phone when you were on the internet. The closest thing to a dating site were chat rooms and instant messenger. When you get into a chat room you would have to punch in things like; 19/m/Seattle which was the introduction format that means that I am a 19 year old male living in Seattle. I had been doing this for a while and I had met my fair share of girls online, for the most part they were usually just bored college students and at the time I was in college and I was bored as fuck too.

Most of the girls that I came across online were from out of state and I have no other way to judge their character or looks other than by the pictures that they had sent me via e-mail and whatever banter they could use to get my attention.. If they were hot enough however, I didn't care much about their banter and would continue to chat with them....Or, get talked at while I responded “uh huh”, or “yeah” or “oh, thats amazing” while playing online poker at the same time.

I had been on a few dates that I had met online in North Seattle, and most of them seemed much less interesting..... and a lot fatter in person. I was still sort of dating my high school sweetheart Jessica, but that relationship was coming to an end because of the distance factor.

I was trying to find new adventure. I started talking to a girl from Glendale, California. Named Angineh, she called herself, “Angie”. At the time I was talking to a whole bunch of different girls from all over the U.S. and I referred to her as the “Hot Mexican looking one” and she repeatedly corrected me. “I am Armenian”. But of course, I said "whatever, you look Mexican" ( As i found out later, that was extremely insulting to an Armenian).

Angineh ended up getting engaged to some Armenian dude during the few months that we had spent chatting online, so as a friendly gesture; she kind of pawned me off to her best friend Savannah.

Savannah was very interested in me for no particular reason. She was 19 as well as I was at the time. She liked the whole surfer boy look, and at that point in my life; I had long blonde hair, tattoos and i was tan. I sort of had that bad boy look to me which she apparently creamed over (in sin). I couldn’t tell you all the details of all of our conversations (mostly because they would bore you to death) but to break it down: we had similar interests in music and life in general. She was very conservative and very religious. At the time I had just finished Catholic confirmation, which was the climax of my 18 year debriefing of the catholic religion. I had spent 18 years of my life being force fed everything that made me realize exactly how much I didn't want to be involved in a religion based on guilt and sacrifice. Going through confirmation basically means that after you go to Catholic school, spend countless years going to classes after school to learn about Jesus and God and the Apostles and blah blah are finally given the opportunity to continue on with the religion or not.

Some folks go balls to the wall with Catholicism; whether it be “becoming a priest”, “Becoming a nun” or just following the religion at all without actually being forced into it any more. Unfortunately… most cases....people choose not to be involved at all, because they have spent most of their adolescent and early years being forced into something and psychologically for most people; we will retaliate when given the first opportunity.

I believe religion as a whole is a good thing and it teaches morals among young lives and gives hope to folks who are at the end of theirs. I believe that if the Taliban really believe that they are going to get a whole bunch of action from virgins after they crash a plane into a building full of innocent people is a crock of shit but otherwise religion is o.k. with me....two thumbs up.

Over the course of 6 months or so Savannah and I would sometimes spend hours talking about nothing in particular over the phone and I believe we actually got to the point where we started telling each other "I love you" over the phone. Savannah had never drank alcohol, smoked a cigarette, smoked weed, or had any sexual relations i don't even think she has had caffeine willingly. Even though I had experienced all of those and more, I felt like we connected spiritually. It even got to the point where we started calling each other boyfriend/ girlfriend, even though we had never really met in person.

We had another one of those long four hour phone conversations, but this time it ended with Savannah telling me that she wanted to have sex with me, she wanted to try alcohol with me, and she wanted to try smoking cigarettes and marijuana with me, she said also said: “if we hit it off as well in person as we did on the phone, that we could get married and I would never have to work again”.

From what she said: her parents own some huge company in Beverly Hills and they are loaded. This may or may not have been the exact moment when my inner douchebag was born.

Let me break this down.....I have a beautiful girl on the phone, who is a virgin, that has never drank, never smoked... anything. She hasn't even done anything that you could even consider immoral, and she wants me to take it all from her?

My inner Catholic was telling me to keep it simple and don't show signs of weakness and don't fall into a life of sin and debauchery, but instead.....


This happened...


A week later I was on a Greyhound bus to Glendale, California. I didn't have a job and I was on summer vacation with a bunch of money saved up from working at a restaurant in Ballard, Washington while i was in school in North Seattle. I really needed an adventure. Plus I sort of felt like I was in love with her in some strange way. She was willing to give up all of her innocence for somebody that she met online and I was willing to take it from her.



The Greyhound trip was an adventure in itself. I got to the Greyhound station about 2 hours early. It was 8pm and my bus wasn't departing until 10:10, so i decided to do a little bar hopping with my new fake id. I picked out the first bar i could find...almost exactly kitty corner from the bus station. I walked in with confidence, this was back in 1999 so the very few fake ids that were made, were practically perfect. No one could tell it was fake. I bellied up to the bar consisting of approximately 6 guys and 1 person that was questionably a girl, which is pretty standard Seattle bar ratio. The bartender was a black man with a handle-bar mustache. He looked just like Isaac from the love boat.

I didn't have a whole lot of experience in a bar so i made sure i knew what i wanted before i walked in the joint. "A shot of captain morgan's and a bud light please". The 1999 reincarnation of shaft brought me the sauce without hesitation. There were a couple of guys behind me playing pool. (I don't know why but i always associated people playing pool in a bar with bar fights, and i chose to keep my distance. It may have also had something to do with my anxiety problem.) I was baffled when the taller of the two well-dressed-mid-forties-average-joe-pool-playing gentlemen walked up and asked my name. I am a pretty avid bar hopper over the years, and to this day; that was the only time someone has ever just walked up from behind me and asked me my name.

Both of the pool players ended up being very friendly and we talked for a while as they were finishing up their game. I told them the story about how i had just met some girl over the internet that lives in California and I was taking a bus down there to meet her. They both seemed a little surprised, almost kind of agitated. "This must be kind of a strange place for you to be in, if you are meeting a girl in California then isn't it?" Asked the shorter of the two. "What do you mean" I asked. "The taller of the two walked up to me quietly while he was chuckling through his nose with his hand over his mouth like a high school cheerleader" put his hand around my shoulder and said with a slight lisp (that i hadn't noticed before) "Look around Hef, this is a gay bar". I looked up and as soon as i glanced up at the bartender he was already looking at me. He gave a cheerful wink and a smile. My eyes grew wide for a second, but my eyes continued to wander to the corner of the bar where i saw the only girl in the room making out with some guy. This was the girl that I had noticed when I entered the bar and thought she was questionable at first. However, I meant questionable as a prostitute or just a really terribly dressed girl. That was precisely the moment that i noticed the Adams apple and 5 0'clock shadow on the girl.

That was my first encounter with a transvestite...but wouldn't be the last in my lifetime. I was 19 years old and had no idea what was outside of Bainbridge Island, Washington. I had been brought up a very strict catholic boy and didn't even know what a cross dresser was. Even in my first year of college most of my peers were heavily religious and had never seen a cross-dresser. My friend “Mo” (Mohammed) was in a religion so strict that they weren't even allowed to masturbate. (Dude, if I couldn't at least masturbate I would probably drive a plane straight into a fucking building)

The guys asked if i was o.k. with being in a gay bar, and I actually was pretty ok with it. I am very comfortable with my sexuality and as long as these guys don't try to pull a train on me, i'm totally cool with them. They asked if i wanted to play the winner at pool, and i'm guessing they thought i would decline and make a bee line straight out the exit door...the fact that i didn't opened up a whole new door with them. (no, not that door)

The taller of the two, “Jim” asked if i had ever tried cocaine. I lied and said “yes”. He said he left a little present for me on the back of the toilet in the men's restroom when he went to pee.

I saw the bindle of coke sitting on the toilet paper dispenser. I learned how to properly chop lines from watching movies like Scarface, so i didn't have any problems getting the drugs up my nose. Unfortunately I never really knew about the effects of drugs like cocaine. I just thought it would be like weed, (where it just makes you tired and hungry and stupid). Oh no siree!!! I was flying high as a kite. I did a fat line and stuck the rest of the bindle in my pocket. I was 19, half drunk, and for everybody who has never actually tried this magical combination: booze and cocaine is like nitro-glycerine to the brain. ...It is what I like to call a Brain-gasm.

I hadn't even really started the adventure yet, and I'm already doing cocaine on the back of a toilet in a gay bar that i was illegally drinking in. I was talking a mile a minute to this bar full of gay guys, transvestites, and a bar tender about this girl I was in love with that I had accidentally met on the internet. We all swapped great stories of love...some were amazing and left me breathless, and some were incredibly sado-masochist-turn-my-virgin ears-off-----gay.

By the time i had to leave and get on the bus i was on a first name basis with everyone in the bar, I almost didn't want to leave. I had heard everyone's story in that short time and every one of them individually gave me a hug and wished me luck on my journey to Los Angeles. I have been comfortable in gay bars ever since.


The bus ride there was only mildly entertaining. I had managed to smuggle a couple hundred bucks worth of pot on the bus so every time we stopped for gas or food i would sneak off somewhere and take a couple rips off of my mini-toker(creatively disguised as a cigarette) I made couple of friends on the bus on the way down with this tactic, and (sharing of course). One was a skinny Japanese guy with a mustache named Henry, I'm guessing he was in his mid 40s, but you can never tell. (once a full blown Asian person hits about 35 they turn 50, and stay looking 50 until they are 120). He said that he spoke Kanji, so i asked him to translate the tattoo on my arm that I had always told people translated to "suck my balls". He said that it says "Passion in Music"...which is fitting. I was relieved! He also said that music is also the word for freedom. So that actually makes a lot of sense. I am a free spirit and have a huge passion for music. STOKED!!!!

Its funny how many dumb asses get a Kanji tattoo without being 100% about its translation (such as myself). I got lucky, but I'm sure there is a whole slough of jackasses out there with something like "Ball sweat" or "Leaky vagina" Tattooed on their arm and they wonder why they get laughed at when they are walking the streets of Tokyo in broad daylight. I offered Henry half of what was left in my bindle for the translation, but he declined. I did it all in small bumps, starting somewhere around Eugene Oregon and finally took the last big one around Eureka, California at like 7 am. I was wired for a solid 12 hours until we got to our first layover.


I had made friends with another guy named Jack on the bus. Jack was mid-forties/ early fifties, overweight, unemployed and he was going to Los Angeles to work with his brother at Amtrak. The three of us had a layover in Sacramento at 8am for a couple of hours. It was still sort of dark, and we were right across the street from the Hard Rock Cafe. My cocaine buzz was wearing off. We all put our faces to the window, as if we were 6 years old and Santa clause was feeding his reindeer across the street. So naturally we casually strutted over and proceeded to rack up a couple hundred dollars worth of drinks on one tab.....



During our visit at the Hard rock cafe, we all got a chance to tell our life stories. Which at 19...mine was pretty frigging boring to be honest. Their stories weren't all that impressive either. We knocked down about 6 shots and a couple of decent beers off of the tap. I was sufficiently wasted enough to level out the free cocaine that the Gay guys gave me. I pretended to go to the bathroom at which point (I may or may not have walked out on the huge bar bill, and passed out in back of the bus before they got back.)Henry got off the bus in Bakersfield which was only a few hours away so I was still asleep when he got off the bus. Jack also got off before me so i never got a chance to say goodbye to either of them. (If either of you read this.....thanks for paying the bar bill!!!!!) =)

I arrived at the Los Angeles Greyhound station at somewhere around 10 am the next day. Keep in mind that this was 1999 and 19 year old kids didn't have cell phones, so i had to use the payphone to call Savanah. It only took a few minutes for her to get to the station from her home. When she arrived in her parents red chevy suburban, my breath was actually taken from me. She looked like Salma Hayek crossed with Cleopatra. She was gorgeous! I could tell just by seeing her profile through the suburban window as she drove by. I on the other hand hadn't showered in 2 days. I was still hungover from getting wasted with Jack and Henry at the Hard rock Cafe. I had been wearing the same clothes since the morning I left Seattle. I must have smelled like a the first floor urinal at the Superbowl.

As Savannah was parking, I frantically dug through my bag to find anything that resembled cologne so i could just give myself a “french bath” before burning the nostril hairs off of the girl i was about to make a first impression on. To no avail....sadly....what i did have was half of a used deodorant stick that had melted in the summer heat into my single bag of luggage. I had created a small lake of liquid deoderant under my clothes in the few minutes that I had been in Los Angeles.

I took a handful of the goo that the L.A. heat had created and shoved it under my armpits and wiped some on my belly, back and neck. She jumped out of the Suburban wearing a sexy red summer I was rubbing liquified deodorant on my belly; she approached me in stunning sunshine glory.

My head perked up to notice her beautiful flawless, beautiful face as I wiped the remains of my melted deodorant stick from my hands onto my unwashed Goodwill shorts. Her hair was straightened and freshly washed. It was like watching the slow motion running scene at the beginning of Baywatch, everything she did was in slow motion.

However, after considering my physical condition, I would have to blame the slow motion vision that I was experiencing at the time.... on the last 12 hours of hard alcohol drinking and weed smoking. Even though it was fucking awesome!

After our long awaited make out session in the Bus station parking lot. We ventured off to Glendale where Savannah lives. I was so excited to be there that I started screaming out the window. FUCK YAAAAAAAAAA!!!! I'm in L.A. Bitches!!!!!~!! Savannah pulled me back into the Suburban and said very sternly “you can't do that here” “Why the fuck not? I asked “What are you afraid of your own town?” She looked at me in distress as she answered back…”This is a bad part of town”. I was covered in deodorant stick and the stink of weed, alcohol sweat and cigarettes as I responded: “Oh really? What part of town are we in?”(not knowing anything about L.A. at all). She looked at me with her beautiful brown eyes and actually sounded mad for a second: “We are in Compton!, now roll up your window and lock your door”. She said very seriously. After catching a glimpse of my surroundings, I noticed that there was graffiti on every sidewalk and every building in the area. “Wow, I should probably invest in spray paint companies if I move down here” I said jokingly....(but still to this day, I wish that I had invested in spray paint companies.)

We got to Glendale, in what seemed like 5 minutes. I wanted to make sure we had a little something to sip on to fuel the fire of bad decisions, so I asked where the nearest liquor store was. (one of my favorite things about California is how accessible liquor is.

Not only Was there a liquor store on almost every corner in southern California but you could also buy hard alcohol in grocery stores….no wonder the cost of living was so high there…it’s paradise!!!

I left savannah in the car while I used my fake id to buy us a fifth of Bacardi light. She had never drank alcohol, so I figured Bacardi and Coke was a good way to start. You can poor them light at first and once the alcohol starts to kick in a little bit you don’t really taste it any more anyways, so you can start a full blown guzzling episode in no time.

We got to Savannahs house and it was empty. She told me that she lived with her parents and sister in a big place in town. I guess we have a different take on “a big place, in town” Well to be fair it was pretty big….for an apartment, and since there was only two large buildings in Glendale, and they lived right next to the Nestle building you could probably say by technicality that they do in fact live right in town. It was well decorated, with lots of plant life and artwork on the walls and hallway. The living room was very large and attached to a small but very open kitchen. There was one hallway that ran underneath a small loft where savannah’s 17 year old sister Gemini slept. The loft was accessible only through savannahs room so in order for her to go to bed she has to go through savannahs door and up a ladder to the loft where she basically just had a mattress on the floor and a computer desk against the wall. The hallway had three doors. One straight ahead and one on each side. On the left was savannahs room and the right was her parents room. The center was the bathroom. Savannah also had a door going from her room to the bathroom. I find it hard enough living with just one adult female. I could only imagine how annoying it must be to have 2 teenage girls in a house and have to share a bathroom. We all know how girls like their bathroom time. I wonder if this trait has been implanted in the brains of women since the beginning of time. I could only imagine in the times of Christ when Mary and Joseph were about to go out and Joseph needed to use the bathroom, but Mary was busy applying her dirt based foundation and rubbing tea leaves in her hair…or whatever they used back then. She would say things like “be out in a minute” or “be right out” but Joseph knew better…Maybe that’s why they never fornicated. Mary was always in the bathroom. Just a thought.

So Savannah and I got right down to business, we cracked open the bottle of rum and each took a shot. She had that look on her face like she had just swallowed gasoline. She coughed and her face turned red. She finally calmed down and by that time I had already mixed her a rum and coke to chase it with. She took that down like a champ. I told her that I had smuggled a bag of weed with me on the trip and asked if she wanted to try it. She said “Sure” with enthusiasm. “well shouldn’t we do it outside’? I asked. “No, my parents wont be home for a while, they are at work.” She reported. I had pre-rolled a joint that I had stuffed in the zip lock bag with the rest of my pot. I took it out and sparked it up. We got about half way through the joint and started making out really heavy. We each took one more huge shot of rum and washed it down with another cocktail, this time the cocktail was a much stronger one. She was starting to feel the effects of alcohol. She had never experienced it before, but I could tell she is going to be a rowdy partier someday. She opened up almost immediately about how her parents have been extremely strict with her upbringing. All, of the things she wanted to do (and should) have experienced, like sleepovers at friends houses, or even just dating, but her parents rarely let her leave the house. She said that she was actually a party of the royal family of Armenia. “A princess” however she had no interest in claiming any royalty while residing in a country half way across the world. She was ready to break the mold and she wanted to try everything that she has been missing out on during her teenage angst.

So there we were, in her bedroom; stoned and half drunk. It hadn’t even been an hour since I had arrived to Los Angeles when she asked if I still wanted to “do it”. I said “of course”!!!

I was expecting it to be awkward, but it felt very natural and comfortable. We knew each other on a personal level so well that I felt as if we had been dating for months. I don’t need to get into too much detail…but there is a certain something that happens to a virgin when she does it for the first time. It was painful at first for both of us, but it popped and created a whole new world for both of us. We did things that would make the writers of the kama sutra blush. 

When we finished, we held each other for a while and I asked if she minded if I smoked a cigarette. She said “no, as long as you don’t leave the bed”. So, I sparked one up and used the empty coke can that we used to mix drinks with as an ash tray. She wanted to try it so I gave her a couple of drags and of course she then proceeded to cough her little virgin lungs right out. So to summarize what had just happened…

I had just taken a sweet Armenian princess and took everything innocent from her within 2 hours of meeting her. She was half drunk, stoned, deflowered, and she had just lit her very first cigarette.

That was precisely when the inevitable buzz kill knocked on her bedroom door KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!! SAVANNAH!!!?? A mans voice yelled through the door. I turned to Savannah “I thought you said they were at work” I whimpered. “They were supposed to be, they never come home early” she whimpered back.

Savannah's dad started yelling through the door in a different language. I couldn’t understand anything, so I just watched Savannah’s face to judge what kind of trouble we were in. She started yelling back at him in the same language…I can only assume it was Armenian. Duh. They went back and forth for a good 30 seconds or so.

I was petrified with shock; I asked what was going on…she said “oh my god, its Saturday” They just went to the store. That’s why they weren’t here”. She said whining. “How long have they been here”? I whimpered.

Savannah got up and walked towards the door (completely naked)...which was awesome under any other circumstances. As she was putting her dress back on, she turned towards the door and translated the same question in Armenian (how long have you been here?) Her dad immediately rifled back in English “2 hours!!” “Oh Crap!! So they were here the whole time?” Savannah looked at me with her head down but still looking me in the eyes. “Yes, they heard everything and said it smells like marijuana in here.” “OPEN THE DOOR SAVANNAH!” I scrambled to get dressed and get rid of the remainder of the joint that was sitting on her window sill and put it in the can with our freshly smoked cigarette butt. Savannah got up and unlocked the door without hesitation. Her dad opened the door and took in a breath through his nose like a bloodhound on the hunt for a prison escapee. His nostrils flared, and he looked me right in the eyes. He looked like Saddam Hussein but shorter and fatter, he was wearing a suit, not a fancy one but khaki slacks, and a matching sports jacket and red tie. I saw his wife behind him with scared bug eyes looking at savannah and then at me. She was pretty, definitely Indian looking but not wearing doilies on her head like you see in national geographic. She was dressed very American…jeans and a white button up short sleeve shirt. They actually looked very respectable and professional, like a couple you might see dining in a country club in my hometown. Savannah’s mom said very little in the conversation…or shouting match rather. Savannah’s sister Gemini had just come in the front door as this was happening. She looked at me wide eyed as what I can only assume was profanity coming out of her parents mouth. They were obviously yelling about me. It sounded like Savannah was trying to defend me. She made hand gestures towards me as they were going back and forth…Her father started pointing at me as he was yelling at her. This has to be bad; Savannah was starting to cry uncontrolably. I turned to Gemini and asked what they were talking about. She said, “My parents said you have taken Savannah’s innocence and you have disgraced our family”. They said you brought drugs into the house and they saw blood on her sheets. (Insert Armenian religion facts about pre-marital sex here) They also said they have called Sevak, our older brother. They said he is going to kill you when he gets off of work.

Dave: Like literally?

Gemini: You don’t realize how big of a deal this is do you?

Dave: No I guess I don’t…how big of a deal is it?

Gemini: You have destroyed any possibility of Savannah having a traditional Armenian wedding.

Our family has generations dating back hundreds of years that had a traditional Armenian wedding. She is the first impure person in our family now.


I looked over at Savannah, she had tears running down her face. She looked at me and said (still weeping) “you need to get out of here, my brother will be here in 3 hours”. I was very calm, considering that someone was actually plotting to kill me in the next 3 hours in a city I have never been to, with some girl I just met over the internet…whose parents apparently don’t speak English. It may have been the fact that I was half drunk, stoned and just deflowered an Armenian girl. I walked to the Ralph’s Grocery store a couple blocks away to call my mom from the payphone.


Dave: Mom I pissed off an Armenian family, and I need to get out of town.

Mom: What happened?

Dave: Some things happened with Savannah and I. Her parents heard everything and they are pissed!!

Mom: what should I do?

Dave: I don’t know…who do we know in L.A?

Mom: Is’nt your friend Kate down there somewhere?

Dave: Ya! She lives in San Diego. She kept telling me I should come down and visit her. I guess this is my chance. Can you get her phone number for me and call me back at this payphone number?

Mom: Sure, I’ll look up her mom’s number in the white pages and call her right now.


I waited for what seemed like an hour but was probably more like 5 minutes. The phone rang and it was Kate. “Hello, David Hefner”! (she is still the only person besides my mom that calls me David, rather than Dave, or Hef. She is with out a doubt the only person that addresses me with both my first and my last name) she has kind of a condescending valley girl tone of voice that I have always found comforting rather than irritating. Kate was my homecoming date during my freshman year in High School. She was a Junior at the time so she was 2 years older than me. She was tall and blond, with a pretty face. She actually ditched me on homecoming night for some guy named Matt. I wasn’t actually upset then or now about it. She led me to my first real girlfriend that night who I am still friends with to this day.

Dave: Heya Kate how are you?

Kate: David Hefner, what are you doing in Los Angeles?

Dave: I met a girl off of the internet, and her family wants to kill me. Any way you could pick me up?

Kate: Ya, I can be there in about 2 hours.


So I gave her directions to Savannah’s house and went into Ralph’s for a little bit to kill some time. I called my mom back to let her know that I was going to San Diego for the remainder of my trip. I only had about 15 minutes before Kate’s projected arrival time. I had no choice but to walk back to Savannah’s house. I got there and looked up into the living room window hoping to spot Savannah, I could see her father looking right down at me from his bedroom window right next to the living room. I sat quietly on the curb waiting for Kate to show up. I could feel Savannah’s parent’s eyes beaming on the back of my head. I heard Savannah and her father both give one last burst of verbal warning to each other, then she came down the stairs and sat right down next to me. She put her head on my shoulder and said

Savannah: “don’t worry, everything is going to be alright”.

Dave: I know, I just called a friend of mine to pick me up. She will be here in 2 hours.

Savannah: I don’t want you to go.

Dave: There is no way your parents would let me stay.

Savannah: No, they wont even let you back in the house.

Dave: Wow, so they are super pissed then? How do I get my stuff?

Savannah: Ya, Ill go get it for you.

(This was a photo taken at the stairs in front of Savannah's parents house, moments before we left Glendale. It was taken by her sister “Gemini” on a crappy cell phone in 1999. I didn't bother to alter it because you wouldn't be able to recognize either of us anyways.)


Savannah was only gone for a couple of minutes. She came back with my duffel bag, and one of her own.

Savannah: I packed a few extra things so we can be gone for the full 5 days before your bus leaves back home.

Dave: Wait what? You are coming with?

Savannah: Ya, of course. I love you and i'm coming with you.

Dave: I really don’t think that is a good idea.

Savannah: Don’t worry its fine. My family will get over it. I know my brother and all I have to do is talk to him, and it will be ok.


Kate pulled up just as we were discussing: exactly how bad of an idea it would be to bring savannah with us. I gave Kate a big hug and introduced Kate and Savannah. Kate has met a lot of girlfriends of mine over the years. She has always been on their side about their relationship with me. I swear she is like some sort of diabolical cock block most of the time, however this time..she actually encouraged the girl to get in the car and come with us.

Savannah didn’t hesitate to hop right in the back seat with her duffel bag when Kate told her to come with us. I knew that this was a bad idea. I admired Savannah’s bravery and understood years later, that she needed to do this to break free of her parent's anti-independence prison. She needed to get out and see the world...explore life's possibilities a little bit. She may be Armenian by blood…but this isn’t Armenia. She was born American, and should live like an American.

In America she should be able to stay the night at a friends house, go to a party, or a concert once in a while. She should be able to go on a date for once in her life that wasn’t monitored by her parents. I feel as though any 19 year old girl (no matter what nationallity) would have done the same thing in her position.

We had a relatively silent drive to San Diego. It may have had something to do with the fact that it was the middle of summer and it was hotter than Hell's kitchen. All of our windows were rolled down, so we couldn’t hear each other talk even if we tried. It had been a few hours since the damage had been done.

Both Savannah and I were sober, but wanted to take advantage of her new found freedom, so I asked Kate if we could drive to Mexico for the day. “Sure” she said. “I just need to stop by my condo and make a few phone calls”. “I have a pool that you two lovebirds can go take a dip in”. This was music to my ears. For one I got to see Savannah’s beautiful body in a bathing suit and also, it was 115 degrees outside, and I was convinced that my ball sack was melting onto Kate's black pleather car seat.

Kate had gotten done calling her boyfriend or whatever, and the three of us all piled back into her car and headed to Mexico. Again this was back in 1999. Customs and border patrol were like fluffy little bunny rabbits compared to what they are now. You didn’t even need a passport or an enhanced drivers license to get in. They still had 25 Mexicans with machine guns standing on the entrance gate, but we drove right through without a problem.

Kate was taking us to a Town called Rosarito. It felt like we had just barely gotten into Mexico and we were already there, if you look at a map it looks like it would be about an hour drive south of Tijuana.

Tijuana, was way worse than I was expecting. Most of the buildings there are torn apart and reduced to some re-bar and cement. It looked almost post-apocalyptic: Like something you might see in a Terminator movie. There were small Mexican children walking up to strangers everywhere you look. They appeared to be selling something to the tourists. I couldn’t quite figure it out so I asked Kate.

Kate:“Oh, those are the Chiclet kids”.

D: They are selling Chiclets?

Kate: Ya, they buy them in bulk for about a dollar and then run around the streets selling little packs of them…sometimes tourists will give them 20 bucks, just because they feel sorry for them.

D: 20 dollars a second sounds like a comfortable living..


When we got to Rosarito we were all hungry so we went to a restaurant that Kate recommended. It smelled like a Mexican restaurant from my home town….but better.

The first thing I noticed when we walked in to the restaurant was the large chicken wire fence enclosure in the middle of the restaurant. It was probably as big around as a Buick and went from the floor to the ceiling. Inside the enclosure were birds. Quail, ducks, and some other bird I didn’t recognize that resembled a pheasant. I asked Kate if they were for decoration…like a dumb ass. Kate looked at me like I had squid crawling out of my ears. and responded “No, you pick out the bird you want: just like they do with lobster at "Red Lobster”. I was baffled!!! I think I just had taquitos or a taco or something instead.

We went to a couple of bars and had some tequila and a couple of buckets of Mexican beer called “Sol”. Kate showed us how to do body shots and take the lime from each others mouths after the shot. It was great!!


She led us downtown to the Liquor store, which was conveniently located right next door to the pharmacia…(where you don’t need a prescription for drugs). Savannah and I went into the liquor store to get some cheap Tequila for me to bring back to the states. There was a well dressed Mexican guy talking to Savannah behind me. He was the first Mexican I had seen wearing a suit since we got there. He introduced himself in Spanish, and I responded with the small amount of Spanish I learned in high school…he chuckled a little bit and said “Its o.k. man I speak English too”. He said his name is Jose and he looked down at the 2 gallon jug of tequila I grabbed off of the bottom shelf. He chuckled again.

Jose: “Is this your first time to mexico?”

Hef: ya, how could you tell?

Jose: not even the locals drink that nasty tequila.

Hef: what should I get?

Jose: Ill show you.


Jose Brought Savannah and I back to the tequila section and grabbed a bottle off of the top shelf. He handed it to me and said “This is excellent tequila”. I asked him the price, and he said it is $75 American. I promptly motioned to put it back on the shelf and he stopped me. “Let this be a gift from me to you and your beautiful lady”. I have never been able to..... and still to this day, cant refuse free booze, so of course I didn't decline the offer. I took the bottle from Jose, and the jug that I had in my other hand up to the counter. We both thanked Jose, and tried to keep the conversation short because as a rule “if someone gives you something they usually want something in return” so we high tailed out of there to the pharmacia next door where Kate was just on her way to the checkout counter with a couple bottles of Soma pills.

I gladly offered to pay for the soma pills and gave Kate my credit card, while Savannah and I went back outside to do a little bit of street vendor shopping. My mom really likes topaz and there was a giant heart shaped topaz for something like 20 bucks so I got that and a pair of Oakley sunglasses for 10 bucks. Kate came back out of the Pharmacia and explained that the Oakleys were fake and the topaz may be too. I didn’t really care that much, I just wanted a souvenir. We each took two of the Soma pills and washed it down with a couple mouthfuls of the awful tequila that I just bought and headed down to the beach.

Kate was really into horses. She spent most of high school on an equestrian team. So when we got to the beach to find a small group of horses being led by a chubby old Mexican guy, Kate wanted to follow. Her Spanish was much better than mine so she did the negotiating. She said you can ride one for the day for 10 dollars or you can buy one for 50 American dollars. Seriously? You can buy a horse for 50 bucks in Mexico?.....Yes, but how are you going to get it back home?

The soma pills and tequila were starting to make my brain swim and I started to obsess over buying a horse for 50 bucks. We brainstormed ways to smuggle these horses back to Bainbridge Island where we knew that between the two of us we could easily find room for all of the horses that this dude had. We never did come to a conclusion. We just picked up and left back to San Diego.


We got back to Kate’s condo…and that is when it all hit the fan. There were 3 Black suburbans with Exempt California license plates and tinted windows waiting for us in the parking lot. Everybody knows these types of vehicles. They are the vehicles of special services…The FBI, the CIA and some other military branches. The rear driver’s side door opened from the closest one to us and a very muscular and very large handsome olive skinned man jumped out, looking straight at us. He walked quickly towards us with a military (almost robotic) stride. Savanna whispered “Oh, shit that’s my brother.”

My heart started pounding. This guy must be 6’5” 250 lbs and built like a WWF Wrestler. I wouldn’t stand a chance. He got right in my face, and I was petrified. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t talk, all I could do was listen to him shout at me, and try not to shit my pants.

As it turns out, Sevak is a drill sergeant in the marine corps. His job is to belittle people and make them intimidated...and intimidated I was. I felt a shart coming on I was so scared.

Sevak: If I had a gun right now, I would shoot you right here in front of everyone. Instead I’m going to give you two options. You can either leave Savannah and never talk to her again, or I will kill you with my bare hands.

I weighed my options.... but ended up choosing option A. I kissed Savannah for the last time. I saw her parents getting out of the back of the second Suburban and start walking towards us. Sevak’s eyes were still burning into my forehead. Savannah slowly walked towards her parents and Sevak turned around behind her and followed. That was the last time I ever saw or heard from Savannah.


So I suppose you might be wondering how the FBI got involved. So as I mentioned before….Sevak is a major in the marine corps. When their parents explained to Sevak that some dude took Savannah after he deflowered her and pumped her full of drugs…he took that a little too literally. Granted I did do those things, but she was perfectly willing to do it. She just failed to mention to her parents that she was going to be coming to San Diego with me. Sevak called some of his military friends and they did a forensic analysis at their parent's house to find out who I was and how to find me. They tracked my mom down through their telephone bill.

They got a hold of my mom. My Mom told them that I was staying with Kate and gave them Kate’s moms number who gave them Kate’s address in San Diego. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if Sevak didn’t call the FBI. Once the FBI got involved and because of the “fresh off the boat” Armenian parents broken translation (that made me sound like a cross between Jeffrey Dahmer and Timothy Leary). They tracked me down through my Creditt card transactions in Mexico…which just so happened to be: the liquor store, and the pharmacy.

Since I had taken Savannah out of the country they were able to wave the 72 hour “missing persons” waiting time and when Sevak saw that I was getting alcohol and drugs in Mexico he immediately assumed that my intentions were less than admirable.

Sevak got the whole family involved and asked the family all of the necessary questions on the way down to San Diego from L.A. When they came and picked Savannah up and saw that we were holding hands and and kissing: the fact that she went willingly smoothed everything over so no arrests were made.




I did deflower an Armenian princess, and caused her to be the first in her family (throughout hundreds of years worth of generations) to become impure. I did pump her full of drugs and booze and although she did it willingly I was still the supplier ...and therefor the bad guy.

I did have an Armenian family with military background track me down with the intention to kill me.

I now have a profile with the FBI, 2 bottles of Soma pills...(minus 6 pills). I primo jug of awesome tequila . A 2 gallon jug of the nastiest tequila ever made... and a broken heart…


and that was one really bad date.







I had a few days left before my unfortunate departure date from southern California, that I had planned to spend it with Savannah. She and I had a great time, and I would like to think that we fell in love along the way. I have no control over what her parents have planned for her life, but I am pretty sure that Savannah had chewed through her parent's thick parental leash using a treasure chest of diabolical schemes and hopefully got every last bit of debauchery that she had been saving up for 19 years out of her system in a day.  I had been saving up a pretty healthy amount of debauchery myself, and being diabolical comes natural. I had a few hundred bucks in my pocket, a jug of tequila and Kate had hooked me up with the city's most notorious "Party Guy" was time to bust out of my innocent catholic boy cocoon and....








BALLS OFF!!!!!!!



The night ended with copious amounts of free booze, copious amounts of free cocaine and an endless sea of foreign undergrads.....that happened to love free booze and free cocaine.


Although it was one really bad pretty sure the hangover was worse than the heartbreak.




Alisha and the return to Club "Hell".

12/03/2013 13:19




Really Bad Date # 71


One of my first girlfriends ever, was Jeannie Marie. She was a junior in high school when I was just a a freshman, and all of her girlfriends would flip her shit for “robbing the cradle.” I was smitten with her from the second I saw her and never thought for a second that she would ever have a romantic interest in me. I was a metal head with terrible bleached blonde, dread-like unwashed hair and she was a beautiful gymnast/ Ballerina that was aspiring to be a cheerleader. I never thought in a million years that I would have a shot with this girl. I wore the same ridiculous outfit every day; I was wearing baggy corduroy pants that I intentionally bought 5 sizes too big so I could stuff a wallet chain big enough to haul a backhoe behind me. I wore metal tour shirts (from concerts that I actually went to: (Pantera, Metallica, Slayer, Megadeth etc.) I was metal as fuck, and all of my friends knew it. I was sort of a social outcast with small exceptions from every group, “The Jocks” since I was a varsity wrestler with a “fastest pin” title, and apparently unbeatable at arm wrestling. “The nerds” since I actually knew how to play Magic the gathering (and I was good at it) and of course my fellow metalheads who I met on the high school bus a few years prior and ended up in a band with one several years later and toured for a while. My closest friends however were sort of in the “nerd category” despite my closest friends opinions; (who were convinced that metal died about the same time I was born), I owned the metal look at our high school, and I was proud of it. We thrived at that high school as the group I would like to proclaim: “psuedonerds with imagination”.

Although Jeannie didn't ask me to the homecoming dance; I was asked to our high school's homecoming dance by a very pretty junior girl named Katja, and being that I was a freshman...this was the equivalent of being asked to the Grammy's by Beyonce. It just doesn't happen. I wasn't about to argue though. My buddies at the time were pushing me to do it and even though secretly I wanted to do it, I played a small game of coy reluctance just so they could feel as though they were part of the whole plan. I loved my high school guy friends. I couldn't have asked for a better group of guys to roll with. They were convinced that I was going to not only go to homecoming with an older girl, but I was also going to lose my virginity to her on our first date. I suppose, looking back, I could have, but it would have been terrible for both my date and myself. I was still a virgin and literally had no sexual experience....maybe it was because of the metal outfit, and 15lb wallet chain.

Katja, and I had a Spanish class together and rarely spoke to each other in English.

When she actually asked me to homecoming it was on an assignment paper that we had worked on together and had to turn in later that day.....*kicks self in ass for not saving it.

Years later I actually thought it was cute that she put herself up for public humiliation in front of a classroom to ask out an underclassman. She was a cheerleader that came from a very wealthy family....(what the fuck was she doing?)

We had gotten our whole posse put together, with my freshman boy group and all of their dates....which also happened to be juniors in high school. We were like a great, big, nerdy group of Finches from American pie, taking Stiffler's mom to the prom.

I will have to give most of the credit to one of the best friends I have ever had “Neal” for having the older sister that used to organize the situation with all of our slightly over-mature dates. Neal, was and is a genius in his own right. I still feel like he put this all together without any of us knowing. He is “that guy”. Always had a awesome plan!! I mean's one thing to have a freshman boy get asked to a dance by a junior girl....but 5....that are all best friends? Come on! People don't just win at life that much without someone planting a few sociological seeds.

I had been sworn in to go to the home coming dance with Katja...who I assure you is hot...but possibly 6 inches taller than me....also rendering her about a foot taller than me once she had her homecoming dance footwear on. I'm not a midget by any means, but having a girl tower over you by a full foot, gave us the appearance of Frodo Baggins and Paris's not pretty.

The true apple of my eye was Jeannie Marie, she was beautiful and curvy in a way that I wasn’t familiar with. She was built for baby making. I just didn't know it at the time because I was like ½ way through puberty. She had great curves, both in front and in back and I didn't know at the time that “this was the female form at it's best”.

Jeannie Marie and I went to the same catholic church and the morals that had been instilled in my brain had pushed me away from fornication. Apparently the thoughts that were naturally running through my head were sins. So, I adjusted them with the help of my morning shower, my imagination, and a good solid grip on the 4-5 times a day.

Katja and I went to the homecoming dance together but, I'm afraid our intentions were the same....just not with each other. I was totally into Jeanne Marie, and Katja was apparently into some dude named Tony which she actually left me for....mid dance at the high school.

When all of my home boys got back to Jeannie Marie”s parent's house that night, I was the only one that didn't come back with a date.

Jeannie had gone to home coming with our friend Jason, as a deterrent to hide her feelings towards me, and to be totally fair, I was kind of glad Katja had gone off on her own. I wasn't into!!!



After I had been ditched, Jeannie and I swapped stories of our home coming demise and dated each other for a couple of weeks. It had become very clear to both of us (very quickly) that slow dancing to Megadeth while her parents were home was not going to quench our overly sexual and restrained catholic sexual thirst for promiscuity. She was far too advanced for my mid-adolescence behavior and I was far too inexperienced to make the first move.

Our relationship was over following a short peck (our first) on the lips at the gates of her dance school after I had walked her there after school was out on a chilly day in October.



Years later....after I had enjoyed the splendors of real vagina, and Jeannie realized that a penis can bring a lot more to the table than just urine. We started talking again, via facebook, or myspace....or some such shit.

She had been dating “Erick” who was a commercial train conductor.

Are you Fucking kidding me? A commercial train conductor....That has to be at least a tenth of the world's dream job amongst boys when I was growing up “This dude is happier than every dick-hole Taliban member that ran a plane into our country and actually found themselves in the arms of a bunch of hot virgins after they were vaporized .


We had started to make a tradition out of getting margaritas every Friday after work. We had a lot of really goofy tequila driven conversations, but this one would change my life forever.



H: So do your parents like Erick?

J:“Ya, but my parent's want me to end up with a guy who is high up on the corporate ladder”

H: “Dude, I am up pretty high on the corporate ladder....but I'm no conductor”

J: “Yeah, they want me to end up with someone who is high up on the corporate ladder.... at a MAJOR corporation.

H: So, selling high end fishing poles doesn't qualify as a “higher up” for a “major corporation” then?

J: Haha, very funny....but no, not to my parents. They want me to end up with like a CEO of a big software company. Oooooh, not to change the subject but, I've been meaning to ask you if you have any plans for Halloween.

H: Probably just get wasted and go cougar hunting at the casino or something, I guess. You?

J: Well, Erick and I are having a little Halloween party, and we were talking about hooking you up with our friend Alisha.

H: Oh yeah? Is she hot and slutty?

J: Haha, well she is cute and probably puts out, if she likes you.

H: Sold

Jeannie gave me Alisha's number and said that she would be expecting my call. When I did call her, our conversations were about as exciting as a tea party with Martha Stewart. She was out of work, living at her parent's house in Seattle, and basically had very little to no social life other than Jeannie and Erick, and even then she couldn't afford to pay her own way when they went out, so if she drank anything, it was because someone else had payed for her. Despite my better judgement, I met up with Alisha a week before Halloween and we sort of hit it off with the help of Jose Cuervo and Budwieser. My intentions were less than admirable however: I basically just wanted to have sex with her so that Alisha would tell Jeannie Marie exactly what she had been missing out on all these years and how awesome it was. I had very little attraction to Alisha, she was very melancholy and dramatic. Her social life consisted of her parents and a practically married couple, so she was more often than not....the 3rd wheel, and an expensive one to top it off. Not to mention the fact that she was a ginger, and to me dating a ginger has about the same appeal as being rectally examined by a disgruntled syphilitic rhinoceros.

Alisha's one saving grace was the fact that she liked to drink and she was good at it, which made her tolerable in public as long as we were at the same level of toxicity. Like I said: she is very melancholy and dramatic, so as long as we are in a quiet spot where she can be melancholy and dramatic in a quiet setting with no innocent bystanders to be tortured by her perpetual sadness, there were no problems.

Alisha and I agreed to dress up like Bavarian villagers, well basically I was wearing lederhosen and she was dressed up like the st. pauli girl. ...but ginger.


She looked something like this...


And this was me....


Believe it or not we actually got a pretty decent response from the Halloween party at Jeannie and Erick's place. My lederhosen shorts were 5 sizes too big and made me look like I had been shitting myself for the last 2 weeks into a giant diaper. Alisha looked good but as a ginger she was lacking in curves, and frankly without the help of surgery, gingers are not genetically designed to grow tits very well so she was pushing up skin flaps with a wonder bra,and I am pretty sure the wonder bra she was wearing was making up most of the illusion of actually having breasts....look I'm not talking shit, gingers are just not genetically designed to grow big tits. It's not like its a secret, some races are just genetically lacking, and others are blessed in natural selection and sex appeal...for example: Asian men are not genetically designed to grow a big penis. It is just one of those flaws that has to either be redeemed with surgery or made up for in other ways like money and a high paying job, or insane amounts of foreplay to make up for the lack of actual penetration. (i hate to be blunt, and again I am not a racist by any means, but think about it: ladies....if you are going to have a discreet affair.... the last dude in the world you are going to pick up is a short Asian dude right?....lets face it; If you take the hottest “all natural” Asian dude in the world, and the hottest “all natural” Asian chick in the world and strip them naked, back them up 50 yards, you cant even tell which is male and which is female. That isn't a bash on Asian people, I am just saying their particular nationality isn't necessarily built for sex.

If you were to do the same with Colombians, or Africans....Bammm!!!! Their bodies were obviously built for sex. The women are curvacious and for the most part the men are well equipped and built for baby making as well.

Jeannie and Erick were dressed up like Greek gods. Erick was Zeus and it became very apparent why Jeannie was into him. He was actually built like a Greek god. I stood no chance against him with Jeannie and there was no point in trying any more. I was actually just happy for them. Erick, is a really good guy and Jeannie is a very sweet, intelligent and incredibly beautiful girl that deserves someone like Erick. Ugh....this sounds so cliché but, they actually deserve each other.

As for myself and St. Carrot top Girl. I was having my doubts.

There was a group of 10 or so people in Erick and Jeannie's apartment. Everyone was coupled up and slowly dispersing as we were getting into drinking games. (It was unfortunate to see the whole party dissolve, but what can you do? It was just Perils of having Halloween fall on a week day) We got through a round of a drinking game called “kings' and we all decided to put together some concrete plans for the night.

Erick belonged to a night club in Capitol Hill and said that he could get us all in. Within minutes we had a cab waiting for us downstairs and we were on our way.

Due to the combination of beer and tequila that was surging through my system at an alarming rate, I only vaguely recall the ride to the club, but when we got there I immediately recognized the building. It was an Asian restaurant that appeared to have been closed for a very long time.

Erick went ahead of us by himself into a dark alley (that I recognized) and opened a door that didn't appear to exist until he opened it on the side of the building, to reveal the beautiful hue of red lights against an ethereal fog that had been created by the wonderment’s of whatever was on the other side of that door.

Erick poked his head into the door for a few seconds and turned around to wave us in. A very familiar scenario played back in my head. Involving one british gentleman that resembled a certain Billy Blanks (the Tae Bo guy). I was having flashbacks of the night J-Blood (Bad Date #69) and I were lured into this very club a few months prior. The same Red glow against the fog sent images in my head like an old Vietnam vet: the piranha bird man, and the rest of the cast of The Labyrinth were dancing through my head as David Bowie's song “Dance Magic Dance” was playing in repeat in my subconscious as we entered the front door. I was fully convinced that Miss Louie Anderson would be greeting us at the front desk. I was actually a little worried about it to be honest, but since I knew what I was getting into, I knew how to avoid any possible dangerous situations.....or so I thought.

(This was the hallway leading to the front desk, which leads to the club. It isn't hard to look at really.....Unless you have been there before, and the scenario involved a female Wiccan version of Louie Anderson and was there to attack you with her own personal blood bank set up and roofies.)







I was pretty buzzed and so was the rest of the posse. Jeannie was strikingly hot in her Greek goddess outfit and unfortunately for both of us; it sort of stole my date's thunder. (granted, the Bavarian bar wench thing was working for me) But when the Greek goddess and I have history, I'm afraid that the hottest ginger bar wench in the world still looks like a lake full of high volume and slightly obnoxious phlegm to me.

I had wanted to see Jeannie Marie naked since I was mid adolescence. She was the reason I got boners as a young teenager, and she was showing as much skin tonight as I was ever going to see. I was savoring the flavor.

We all went inside at the same time. When we all walked up to the front desk. I was still in shock from the amazing amount of replay from my last visit to this fine establishment that was swimming through my head. I didn't say a word...i was just convinced that Louie Anderson was going to greet us at the counter with a blood transfusion device.

The tall dark heavily tattoo'd bro at the front desk assured me that I had already paid for a lifetime membership to the club and I wasn't dinged the $20 cover charge. I was baffled and slightly afraid. I didn't remember much of the last time I was there and certainly didn't remember paying any annual dues and certainly not a lifetime membership. However it was very clear that my name was on their list.

The host this time, resembled nothing like Louie Anderson. He was tall and muscular, like Edward Norton in American History X but taller. He was scarier than Louie Anderson could ever be...Male or female. The tattoos on his head and arms looked like one of H.R Giger's alien movie masterpieces, but creepier and bloody. It gave him the illusion of having an alien exoskeleton. It was frightening until he opened his mouth to expose a very timid voice with a lisp.


Host: Heeeey Guythhhzzz!


I was relieved by the friendly and unusually feminine greeting. Buzzed or not, I would much rather have a beastly tattoo'd guy appear to be the biggest fairy in the world than to actually have the personality to match his appearance.

After we were all let into the club I started to realize just how many beers I had put down at the halloween gathering at Jeannie and Ericks...and so did my bladder. I had to pee so bad that I was clenching my legs together to hold it in. I announced to Alisha that I needed to go use the restroom and I would return with a drink for her A.S.A. Penis. When I entered the restroom there was a mural on the door which read “Welcome to hell”. It was written in what appeared to be blood and the blood streaks created a canvas that made it appear to be fire, and the words were smeared onto the canvas by hand.



There were no privacy dividers in between the urinals that seemed to practically be touching each other. There was also no privacy divider for the toilet. “Well that's not very classy” I thought.

So, in the instance that you actually have to go to the bathroom, you are either brushing shoulders with the person next to you, or you are literally 3 feet from whichever unfortunate soul has to take a shit. I got to experience both. I was brushing shoulders with a guy dressed like jason from friday the 13th, and to make matters worse; a man in a flambouyant pink dress was dropping a bomb in the toilet to my right. I pushed the party beer out of me with the force of a NYC fire engine hose so I could get out of the room before the drag queen's rancid feces hit my nostrils. I could only hold my breath for so long. I was doing what my old Texas band mates referred to as “Chicken Nosing”


Chicken Nosing: Anyone who has ever been in a chicken coup knows how fowl the smell can be. The chickens shit and piss everywhere, and since it's pee piles and shit is so small and un-noticeable, no one bothers to clean it up...therefor multiplying the stench until it is actually unbearable for a human to breath through their nose. Even the burliest farmers wear a handkerchief around their neck so they can put it over their nose and mouth upon entering the chicken shitatorium. Some people are not blessed enough to have a handkerchief when a situation occurs where the air is not breathable by human standards, yet no one likes to show any weakness to stench, however some will be forced to mask their nose and mouth with their hand while breathing through their mouth like a High School cheerleader avoiding dog shit upon sight.

Chicken nosing is a clever way to avoid looking like a High School cheerleader while also avoiding the rancid stench that is seemingly strong enough to peel the paint off of the wall.

  1. Take a deep breath as you are entering the foul zone.

  2. Hold your breath for as long as you can while you are taking care of business.

  3. When you cant hold your breath any longer, let it out slowly as you raise your hand to cover your mouth and pretend to yawn. Use your index finger to strategically cover both nostrils as you prepare for a second deep breath.

  4. Exit the premises as quickly as humanly possible, with head held high and leave no sign of surprise.

  5. Continue to win at life.


    I narrowly escaped the restroom cleverly named “Hell” UN-scarred and un-noticed. Finally I made my way to the bar and noticed that it was unusually busy. I had to use a little bit of bar-tender tact to get to the front.

    1. First; I grabbed a pitcher of water off of the empty table behind me and a couple of empty drinks and beer bottles to use as dummy receptacles,

    2. I filled them up half way as I squeezed my way to the front of the line by tapping each patron that was in front of me on the opposite shoulder from which I was approaching. As they turned around to face the opposite direction from me, I slipped right past them quietly.

    3. I took enough of the dummy drinks up to the main bar, from the and UN-bussed table tops to cover the amount of patrons that were bellied up to the main bar and (apparently not giving a shit). One by one, I filled each one of their dumbasses drinks up a quarter or more (with fucking water!!!); giving the appearance of a drink that was tended to. I then strategically and nonchalantly placed them in front of as many of the patrons as I could within arms reach when they had their backs turned. This gives the appearance of each one of the patrons having a drink in front of them that doesn't need refilling.


    A bartender's main objective is to serve the patrons that don't have a drink directly in front of them. These are the first people that we serve as a bar tender, and then we go from there. So seeing as how I was the only one at the bar in this situation that was rendered “drink-less”, I was the first to be served. That is called winning son, learn about it.


The four of us had managed to get a table right in the center of the main floor which was down a mere 4 stairs from the bar. The layout of the club was simple: there were two bars exactly across the square and simple dance floor from each other. The drinks that they served us on this fine Hallow's eve were bright red and they called it“Satan's blood” these drinks were served in a silver chalice and tasted a bit like maraschino cherries. They were potent but delicious!

The costumes that most of the patrons of this fine establishment were wearing.... were amazing and spectacular! Most of them were relatively gothic. I felt rather inadequate in my goofy lederhosen sitting next to the ginger St. Pauli girl. Although we matched, I still had about as much interest in her as I would by receiving a “Happy Ending” massage from Freddy Krueger.

After the 4th round of “Satans blood” and a few 151 based shots that also simulated blood (and also tasted like maraschino cherries), I was feeling saucy enough to hit the dance floor with miss Ginger-vitus.

All 4 of us got up and danced right in front of our table. The place was packed, so we decided that it was imperative to stay close to our table to avoid a full blown table robbing.

Ginger and I danced closely but, I was basically looking over her shoulder to find the next victim the whole time. I must have looked everywhere in the room except at my date. One would think when a guy has the toxicity of a Czech Republic prostitute he could stay focused on the date that was a sure thing.....unfortunately...I had gone in to “Hef mode”

Not to say that Alisha was repulsive, but she was frail, pasty, melancholy and worst of all....a ginger. As I was looking over her shoulder for something more fun and attractive, Satan's blood kicked in and we were making out almost instantly. Even while our lips were locked I was peering around the dance floor to try and find a single available woman. Alisha was cute but the whole time we were making out, I pretended she was Jeannie Marie. That may have been the only reason that I made out with her.

As I was locking lips with the female version of carrot top and scoping my surroundings I realized that it was difficult to accurately judge the true hotness of the girls in the club due to their costumes. Luckily I have the ability to undress any girl with my eyes and know exactly what to expect. I can even give an accurate detailed description of their face without make up.....most of the time. This certainly wasn't my first Halloween rodeo, so cutting off the make up and seeing them a-la-plain-faced should be easy right?

There were a lot of chubby bunnies and some frail heroin junkie types that were wearing full prosthetic masks....which usually means that the unfortunate combination of genetic failure that was...”their actual face” was scarier than the mask that they had used to cover it.

I twirled her around the dance floor casually so I could get a better look at our surroundings. My eyes were busier than a beehive on meth.

AH HAH!!! My drunken eyes finally spotted something beautiful in the distance. It was a pale faced Vampiress. She had great blood red lips and eyes that were so dark brown that they actually appeared black. She appeared to be Latina...which is sort of my to cheerleaders and hooters girls.

I put my jacket on and changed my slightly change my ridiculous appearance and allow myself to go into “Hef mode”.

I literally just walked away from Alisha, mid-dance...half way through a twirl. My eyes were now focused on this amazing vampiress. I was trapped in her tractor beam and sucked in without any possibility of escaping. The music stopped in my mind and the 15 gallons of alcohol that had been pumping through my system no longer mattered. I was a man, she was a woman...and a hot one!

I will never try to tell you that I am a master of opening line tact, but I can break the ice pretty easily... especially when the receiving end is both single and wasted as fuck. She had only glanced at me for a second while I was dancing with what's-her-ginger. But that was enough for me to know that I was in fact noticed.

Hef: Hi i'm Hef (I said with a smile)

When she spoke, her vampire fangs showed; giving me the chills...but they were awesome chills! Her fangs weren't your average two dollar Halloween fangs that you occasionally might find on the clearance rack after Halloween at Wal-Mart and after realizing that they don't actually fit; you end up slobbering all over as you pull them out . These were permanent fangs....and fucking sexy.




(Even a judge would be like: “Bro, I'd hit that like a pinata”)




We had the usual boring “What do you do?”, “What do you like to do for fun?” conversation, and frankly I forgot all about it. What I really wanted to know was, how she got those beautiful fangs and why?

She said that she needed some dental work done....blah blah she decided to get fangs instead. Because fangs are fucking awesome!.

Me:Do guys ever get intimidated to kiss you because of your fangs?

Vampiress: Actually ya, no guy has had the balls to try to kiss me since I had them done a couple of weeks ago.


She looked at me straight in the eyes, her eyes scared me in a good way. My whole body was entranced in her beauty and her eyes kept me wanting more. She stood up, and it started to feel like she was reciting something from a sci-fi movie.

She said “only the strong willed, true men are allowed to kiss me”. “You can not be frightened”

“Are your frightened?”

Hef: Fuck no, you're hot....lets get busy!


I grabbed her foxy little body by her thighs. She was thick but curvy. I snatched her right out of her seat and and pulled her next to me. We locked lips and it was amazing! I had enough of “Satans blood” in my system to go the extra mile and I proceeded to lick the incredible fangs that she had in her mouth while our lips were locked. It was incredible! They weren't incredibly sharp like I had imagined they would be. They felt more or less like my own canines but longer.

I ended up sitting with her for most of the night. We were whispering sweet nothings into each others ear while sharing multiple rounds of “Satan's Blood” and smooching until last call. I noticed Alisha dancing by herself out of the corner of my eye and felt a little bit of guilt. I was pretty sure that Alisha had no expectations when Jeannie hooked us up (I sure as fuck didn't). I Ignored her and kept my focus on the Gorgeous Vampiress that was whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

After it was quite clear that no more alcohol was going to be served to any of us, I went back to the table with Jeannie, Erick and Carrot Top to split a pitcher of water and figure out exactly how we were going to finish out the rest of our evenings. I was starting to go into Blackout mode, and needed to crash immediately. But before I did, I needed to brag about my date with the vampiress.


Hef: Dude! Did you see that hot vampire chick I was making out with?!? Holy Sheeottt!!


Bwahahahaha!!!! The whole table erupted with laughter. Alisha in particular was laughing so hard that she started coughing uncontrollably as she almost fell off of her chair. Jeannie looked over at Erick and said, “Should we tell him?”

I was confused, and convinced that they were going to tell me some story about this hot vampire chick biting someone on the neck or something.


Hef: “Tell me what?” I asked. (Still floating on cloud nine).

Jeannie: “Did she ever tell you her name?”

Hef: oh yeah its, I guess she didn't. Do you know her?

Jeannie: Yup

Erick: mmmmmhmmmm.

Alisha: (still laughing in hysterics) Yah!


Hef: So, whats her deal? Is she single? Why are you all laughing?

Jeannie: Hef; The “Vampiress” (actually making the sign for quotation with her fingers)  you have been making out with for the last hour is a Dude. His name is Justin, and he isn't even gay....just super drunk.


The lights turned on throughout the whole building and as drunk as I was, I could see the Vampiress clearly. To me she still looked like a pretty girl from a distance, but I was able to make out more details on her face and body that I couldn't see when the lights were dimmed, I could clearly define an Adam's apple, and a little bit of 5'oclock shaddow. Sadly these are pretty heavy determining facts that i was unable to identify during the flashing of the strobe lights that were in syncopation with the fast, heavy  music. 


My beautiful vampiress, was in fact a man. A straight....drunk.... man.


I wish I could end on that note and say “...and that was one really bad date”. But, it wasn't over yet. I had just excused myself to the bathroom of the club after the news of my mistaken-vampiress's-identity demise had just been broken to me. I then proceeded to finger-force-vomit all over the handicap parking spot in the parking lot of the club. The club owner just so happened to have seen me after I had painted his beloved handicap parking spot. As I was passing out with my head on the curb the manager had notified Jeannie, Erick and Alisha of my whereabouts and they were directed to pick my seemingly lifeless body up and hurl my dumb ass into a cab. Apparently, the three of them had to literally carry me up the 3 flights of stairs to Jeannie and Erick's condo. Alisha and I were slated to sleep on the floor of Jeannie and Erick's large walk in closet, on a blow up mattress that we had set up in advance. This blow up mattress happened to be located right next to their Cat's litter box.

The next morning, I woke up naked and alone. Alisha, Jeannie and Erick all had to work that morning. This wouldn't have been a problem if all of my clothes hadn't fallen off of the coat rack and landed in the cat-litter box where they had gotten soiled by Jeannie and Erick's cats.

To make matters worse....the cats apparently had a distaste for my clothing after they had soiled it all,  and decided to soil the floor....which is exactly where my head was laying as I woke up the day after Halloween 2008. Hungover, violated and covered in cat piss. I never did tell Jeannie and Erick about my little debacle with their cat's bathroom, but I did make a suggestion at their wedding.....


….And that my friends, was one really bad date.


11/30/2013 01:53



(Earning my wings and

learning to fly,)


Since I was in my early 20's and even throughout some of high school, I have found myself in situations where I end up having to convince my friends, family or other that I am not high on the rare occasion that I wasn't actually high on drugs. Sometimes I just get thrown a little curve ball or a wild pitch where I end up having to defend myself or inevitably just give up because there is too much evidence against me.

In 2007 I had successfully quit smoking cigarettes, and drinking alcohol for several months, and with the money I had been saving I decided to build my own Absinthe still. I spent several weeks buying all of the necessary ingredients from overseas as I constructed the actual unit that I had pieced together with a few feet of copper conduit and a pressure cooker. For those of you who don't know what a homemade still looks like: it is basically a pot or in my case a pressure cooker with a big copper tube sticking straight out of the top about 3 feet and comes down in a spiral with excess tubing like a screw. You put all of the necessary ingredients into the pressure cooker and the steam rises through the tube leaving all of the nasty overcooked ingredients behind in the crock pot.


This is what was on my be fair, it does sort of look like a meth lab=/



           After I went through round one of the distilling process, I left the ½ finished process with all of the ingredients macerating in my closet. I left the still out on the front porch to keep the stink out of the house while I went to California for a few months with “Kimber” the adult film star I was dating. Unfortunately I had been renting the house from my grandparents and they had apparently been watching some discovery channel documentaries on Methamphetamine laboratories. They assumed that the contraption that was sitting on my front porch while I was gone; was in fact a home made Meth lab. Despite my attempts to explain myself, my grandparents assumed that the dramatic weight loss, and sudden interest in small art projects that I had acquired from jogging, dieting and not drinking alcohol, came from meth use. Not to mention my sudden desire to move to Los Angeles with an adult film star.

By the time I had spent my severance check and all of my savings while bouncing around Hollywood, and Vegas, my grandparents had already promised my uncle the house I had been living in. I was officially evicted from my house because I was too motivated, outgoing and getting into shape too fast. Kind of ironic right>? I believe the direct quote from my grandma was something like. “Aren't you supposed to gain weight when you quit smoking?” and even more directly “Honey, are you doing the meth”. It sounds funny saying it now, but I loved living was a great house right on the beach, and as rarely as I did visit my grandparents, I genuinely loved having them close by.





Bad Date #2


Late winter 1998: I was a junior in High school and my girlfriend of 2-3 months and I were at her house alone. I hadn't had a lot of experience with giving oral to a girl but I fuckin loved doing it. I had been given enough advice on exactly how to do it and had a couple of practice targets over the last summer. She was nervous and for some reason she wouldn't let me try it with her. For the last week or so I had been begging her to let me try it and the answer was the same every time.

Her parents didn't get home till 530 and we got out of school at 3, giving us an hour and a half of free, alone time.


Her parents had always trusted me for some reason. They never knew that behind their back I was like Eddie Haskel dragging Wally Cleaver out of the house to blow up a mail box with a cherry bomb after offering Mrs. Cleaver a hand with the dishes.

One time I even took her to a friends house for the night, I pretended to be one of her girlfriends dad on the phone so she could stay the night with me at my friend “Neal's” house. I then proceeded to get her drunk for her first time and convinced her that it would be a good idea for her to stand out in Neal's back yard so we could shoot b.b. guns at her butt.

To be fair, I was really good to her most of the time. She was very sweet, and very pretty, and she was a hockey fan. So For Valentines day 98' I asked her parents if I could surprise her with tickets to see her favorite hockey team play in Portland (about 4 hours away). I almost had to beg them, but they finally gave me the go-ahead and we drove to Portland together in my great grandma's 1973 Pickle Green Buick Apollo. It only had am radio so I had to borrow my little sister's boombox and buy enough batteries for the trip so we could have some tunes for the trip.

The rose garden stadium in Portland Oregon was where I fell in love with Lenna. We had such a great time just talking and driving to the stadium. We stopped for ice cream, I bought her flowers and candy and surprised her with them both when I picked her up at her parents house (with the surprise hockey tickets), and another round of flowers and chocolates along the way to the game as I blasted Master P's “Ice Cream Man” on my little sister's boombox. I was smitten. She was great!

During the game; the stadium's giant overhead screen showed “The Kissing Cam” where the camera would focus in on couples in an attempt to get the crowd cheering the couple on to kiss on camera. It was broadcast throughout the whole stadium so everyone in attendance could see, and the whole stadium was sold out. Somewhere around the 3rd period the camera focused on us. The stadium roared and I had been diabolically coming up with a way to get some attention. She puckered up for me to kiss her, but instead of giving the crowd what they wanted. I put my hand up to her face like a ghetto girl saying: “Talk to the wall”. This made the crowd explode with cheer. The meter on the screen was almost to the top and I saw us on the big screen. The camera focused in on us like a face “zoom in” from an old martial arts movie. We were the center of attention for everyone in the sold out stadium. The meter finally hit the top of the noise barrier and that was when I grabbed Lenna's head and planted it firmly into my lap and gave the ooooooh face. Half the crowd boo'd but the ones that cheered overpowered them so it just sounded like joy. I lifted her head back up and gave her a big wet kiss and then wiped my mouth off and acted as if she had just snowballed me while still on camera. The whole stadium erupted with laughter. We were instant stars.

After the game was over, we headed back to the pickle green Buick and everywhere we turned there was someone who recognized us from the big screen. I must have high-fived a dozen dudes and their girlfriends. When we finally got to the car, the whole multi-level parking lot was full of people trying to leave. It was well lit so everyone could see us. We actually got a round of applause from everyone on the 3rd floor of the rose garden parking garage. This was one truly awesome date ladies and gentlemen. We bowed like proud conductors of the Vienna Orchestra.


When we got back home we, started to realize that we were starting to get more serious. We spent as much time with each other as we could. We still hadn't taken the leap yet though. I was still a virgin and still had the catholic guilt that had been drilled into my brain since I was just a knee high young-un. I believe that this was also one of the reasons that Lenna's parents trusted me so much. I actually came to them about the subject of sex. I told them that I was a virgin and that we were ready to take the next step. So I had made an appointment at the doctors office for an std check. Lenna did the same. We then made an appointment at planned parenthood so we could get free condoms, since you couldn't buy them if you were under 18 at the time. (I still think that is bullshit, and one of the reasons there has been such a huge teenage pregnancy pandemic over the years)

We told her parents that we still wanted to wait for the right time but we wanted to be prepared. Her parents practically high-fived me for being so responsible on the subject of fucking their daughter. They were stoked that someone so mature and responsible was dating their daughter. Until one day....


Lenna and I had gotten out of school early because it was a half-day. We went straight to her house after school and it had been 3 days of begging her to let me go down on her. At this point it was more like a penny in a wishing well to how many times she had spoiled me with oral. I felt like it was time to really spoil her back...that and I had never actually seen her naked, but I was just dying to. She had this amazingly tight little gymnast body, but she had a puh-donk for days. She is the kind of girl that was designed for the african american man, but I was blessed enough to enjoy the splendors of a semi-ghetto booty. Don't get me wrong, Her ass wasn't fat, it was fit, plump, and round.

I daydreamed about her naked body rolling slowly from front to back on her freshly washed goose down comforter in front of me on her bed on a clear autumn day. The fireplace crackling in the background, emitting a warm fall smell of seasoned cedar firewood. I wanted to caress every inch of warm skin and lick every part of her body in and out. I wanted to make her body quiver and squirm in delight. I wanted to ravage her like a barbarian until I had no energy left in me. I wante....


(excuse me for about 5 minutes, I have to go to the uhhhh...bathroom)




Her parents were both doctors so she was quite unintentionally spoiled. Her bedroom was on the 4th story of a beautiful white Victorian style house that was close enough to the beach that she had a view of downtown Seattle out of her window. She basically had the whole 4th floor to herself. Her own bathroom right next to her bed, she had a laundry shoot in the hallway that went all the way down to the basement where the laundry room was. She was spoiled but didn't act spoiled. She was quite humble and sweet.


We played a game of pool in her parents deluxe living room. I loved the way her body moved, she was playful and elegant. I sort of intentionally threw the game so I could get her to the bedroom as soon as possible. I had been building up the idea of pleasing Lenna orally in my head for almost a week now. My plan was to write everything that I had learned in Spanish class that day on her cooter....with my tongue.

We started making out and and I led her up the 3 flights of stairs to her bedroom. I would reach down and slowly grace her girl parts, but she kept taking my wrist and moving my hand away. “not, yet” she said in a seductive whisper. “But, I really want to please you” I whined

We made out standing up for a minute and then I pulled her onto the bed. I pulled her blanket over us as we were kissing. I moved slowly down her body and lifted her shirt while licking her belly button and simultaneously unbuttoned her jeans. She grabbed my hand once again. “No, not yet” she whispered. The whispering turned me on even more, and frankly I had no clue about the female anatomy. I figured she was self conscious about her personal shaving upkeep. I was convinced that she had a bush like the tree of life from
Avatar. I imagined small, mystical, tree dwelling creatures ready to fly out of her nether region as I unzipped her jeans...oh those jeans....they looked oh so good on her. ( I could only imagine the visual splendors that I would be able to deposit into my spank bank after I saw her body when those jeans were on her floor) 70's porno bush or no...I didn't care.


Me: “Come on, it can't be that bad.” I want you so bad that even if I were down there; licking dirty diaper to please you, it would not make me any less attracted to you”.

Lenna: ok, if you really want to do it that bad....Fine!!

Me: Trust me, neither one of us are going to regret this. Wink*





The covers were over my head, so it was dark when I took her pants off. The visual pleasure I was building myself up to see was now in complete darkness. Instead, a smell whorled around the tightly sealed enclosure of Lenna's Goose down comforter. The blistering stench targeted in on my face. It was pungent enough to peel the paint off of a port-a-potty. My eyes started to water, and I immediately started breathing through my mouth. It was an unconscious survival tactic that I didn't know that I had. This was a horror more devastating than I could never accurately describe.. I kept thinking to myself “dude, you can still back out”, “Don't scar yourself forever on a cursed vahoo” I knew if I kept going; vaginas in the future would scare me worse than being chased by a Tyrannosaurus on a tricycle. I hoped she would fart or something to clear the air a little bit.

The smell of this vaginal disaster was as if someone had taken a heaping bag full of cheap seafood restaurant trash that had been sitting in the sun for 2 days, ate it, and later.... shit it out on a frying pan full of ammonia. (Ya, I'm not done yet)...After the ammonia shit Pat'e was slightly overcooked, it was then eaten by a toothless Mexican donkey show whore with Halitosis and then vomited out on the overheating radiator of a Sherman tank that runs on sulfur.

After being trapped under a blanket with this biological anomaly for a solid 10 minutes I came to 2 conclusions....1) I am now super human, and 2) for some reason or another this strange biological anomaly was getting wetter than any vahoo I had ever imagined possible. Despite the odd rusty taste and the smell that I was sure the neighbors will complain about tomorrow....i must be doing something right!!! Just a few minutes ago, I was convinced that this vagina was taking a shit, but she is moving wildly and its getting wet down here. I WIN!!!

She jammed her love muffin so hard against my nose when she came, I actually heard a cracking sound coming from my forehead. I couldn't breath....and I was grateful for that.


There was a loud knock on the door. LENNA!!! ARE YOU OK IN THERE???


My heart pounded and I had no choice but to scramble to the bathroom right next to her bed. I turned off the lights in the bathroom and hid behind the door that was still open. Lenna still had the covers over her body when her mom entered the room. Lenna tried to play the “Oh I was just taking a nap” card. Lenna's mom who happens to be a clinical psychologist saw right through her. She could smell what was in the air....(trust me it wasn't difficult)

I could smell her on me. I knew that I had to find something to cover up the smell that was all over my face. It was dark so I just reached for whatever I could find that resembled soap. I found a bottle of what I thought was shampoo....Good enough! I tip toed over to the toilet so I could have a little bit of water to dilute it as I was cleaning the muff sauce off of my face. I hovered over the toilet and uncapped the bottle and gave it a good shake as I faced the sky so I could get a direct shot on my chin. “Oh, mother fuck!!!!” was powder. Like Gold bond or some such shit. I remained silent in hopes that Lenna's mom would just leave the room so I could fix this mess in private and face her after my heart stopped racing and my face was no longer covered in whatever powder I had just yanked off of Lenna's bathroom counter.


Lenna's mom: Where's Dave?

Lenna: oh he just dropped me off

Lenna's mom: really? Why is his car in the driveway?

Lenna: I, uh don't know?

Lenna's mom: Something is fishy here and I don't like it


I was dying to laugh but had to remain silent. My face was red from holding in the laughter. “She actually used the word fishy” BWAHAHAHA!!


Lenna's mom: Dave?!?! DAVE!?!?!?!?


Her voice got closer as she was screaming....the jig was up and the bathroom light went on.


I looked up in horror as I was crouched over the toilet; wide eyed. My face was red from trying to hold in my laughter from her “Fish” comment. There was white powder all over my face and the toilet seat. My eyes were dilated in fear.


Lenna's mom: Get the fuck out of my house!!!!! Get out!!!!!!!


I scrambled for the door of Lenna's room and took the stairs 2 at a time. My heart was pounding, but at the same time I was pretty convinced that I was going to break up with Lenna anyways. There was no way that I was getting any where near that trash receptacle that she called a vagina ever again.

I must have scaled the whole 4 stories of house in a matter of 10 seconds and I was starting my car before I even had my door shut. I looked in the rear view mirror just to make sure Lenna's mom wasn't following me with a butcher knife and that is when I noticed my face.

I had white powder all over my face, mostly on my upper lip and chin. It had congealed itself onto the dried blood all over my mouth and chin. I must have looked like Scarface. Where the fuck did all of that dried blood come from?

I suddenly had a wave of fear wipe over me like the grim reaper. I knew what had just happened, but I didn't want to believe it. Those boring health classes in high school started to make little chunks of sense. (no pun intended) Lenna was persistent on not allowing me to go down on her because she was on her period. The period blood that I couldn't see while I was suffocating under the blanket while in hopes that I had been pleasuring her. What I thought was a pleasurable secretion was actually just her heavy flow gracing its self on my nose, my chin and my tongue.


What I didn't know was that females tend to cycle together. Lenna's mom was also on her period. Lenna's mom had convinced herself that I was a drug addict and that I was trying to convert Lenna into being a drug addict. The evidence was laid out on the toilet seat....until Lenna's mom brushed it into the toilet and flushed the only proof that I had to back up my defense.

I was instantly cut off from Lenna. They changed their home phone number, and transferred Lenna to a high school in north Seattle, which was a 35 minute ferry ride and a 20 minute bus ride both ways, which landed Lenna at home after both of her parents got home from work. I hadn't heard any of the allegations from her or her family directly, however The story I heard from our mutual friends (that were actually allowed to speak with her) basically insinuated that I was a cocaine addict that was trying to convert Lenna into being a Cocaine addict. I assure you I hadn't even seen cocaine until at least 4 years after this date. I also gathered that the previous relationship that she had been involved in was with a drug addict of some sort. Apparently Lenna had lied through that whole relationship and it resulted in a couple of months in a rehabilitation clinic. Unfortunately, this one did too.


I still Keep in mild contact with Lenna, she had 2 kids from 2 dads. Married and divorced both, and is now a solid advocate for the “don't get married just because you're having a kid together” club. I still think she is great, but I also think her parents have, and will continue to run her life for her so I just hope she can be ok with “well enough”.


I too am a solid advocate for the “don't get married just because you are having a kid together” club. I may not have any children but I will tell you what I do have....













11/22/2013 11:59









        In 1999 I had just graduated from high school. I was temporarily working as a dietician at a convalescent center. Which translates to: I was the guy putting vitamins and old people food into a blender so old people could swallow it easier.

        I wasn't particularly stoked on the job, the pay was less than rat shit, and it was kind of gross. On the other hand; I do like old people; and if they are coherent enough to tell me a story about what it was like when they were young.... (Not the “when I was your age, I could buy a snickers bar for a nickel”story) but actual lifestyles of the 40's, 50's or whatever. I talked to a guy who played chess with John Wayne, and played football with Elvis. He served in 2 wars and he still considered Marilyn Monroe the most beautiful girl that ever lived and quite frankly.....He was just a bad-ass in general.

        For the most part, the inmates of this geriatric prison were just the unfortunate victims of their family's disinterest or unavailability. These places are a huge financial burden on the family.... and I believe it takes a lot of “financial burden” to send a family member that you have known your whole life to be cared for by someone else, no matter how clean or well rated the place is amongst the other old folks homes. It is after all still just a giant bedpan for old folks to slowly decompose before they are finally ready to drift off into oblivion. I have been there(both as a grandchild and great-grandchild) and I know exactly how much our grandparents and great-grandparents really want to be there (sarcasm intended). No son or daughter, actually wants to resort to actually leaving their parents in such a place....even great grand kids quiver at the idea of putting someone that they have known and loved their whole lives into a home, but sometimes life forces us on such unfortunate events that we don't believe in ....including but, not limited to why we pay taxes:

Dear readers:

If you don't want a head full of obnoxious political jargon...skip to "The point".

        We pay taxes to the I.R.S. Which funds the people who give us traffic tickets (even if we were not maliciously avoiding the speed limit, or slowly going through a red light when there is obviously no traffic in sight) Our Law enforcement is given a monthly quota, so they are actually forced to further punish us. We pay taxes to the I.R.S. Which funds the government who make all of the rules for us, and the decisions for us(whether we believe in them or not). There are more examples of retarded ways that we are forced to spend our tax dollars than there are freckles on a Ginger's face.


For example: Here are some facts about death row that most people don't want to believe (Just one of the incredibly stupid government controlled costs that our tax dollars are paying for ever day):



The U.S.'s capital punishment process: 


(1) is fraught with error;

(2) discriminates on the basis of socioeconomic status, race, and geography;

(3) is arbitrary and capricious, including its use against the mentally ill and defendants who did not kill anyone and did not intend that anyone be killed;

(4) costs taxpayers far more than life imprisonment without release;

(5) does nothing to protect people from crime;

(6) seriously harms the survivors of homicide victims;

(7) is plagued by cheap legal representation - the worst, not the best, of American lawyering; and

  1. greatly diminishes the worldwide stature of the United States and its ability to work to end human rights violations in other countries.

    Capital punishment solves nothing!!!! It's expensive, and statistics have found that 91% of the families of the deceased don't even want the killer to be euthanized. I mean really, in a perfect world, the 9% of the population that actually does want to bring the killer to death should be able to do it themselves however they want to do it. The law has already decided that the convict should be put to death. Leave it up to the family to do it when they want and how they want, if they actually want to. The country is being taxed millions of dollars a year to keep these criminals in prison for years. Why not just cut the bullshit....and leave the killer in a room with the family of the victim for a couple of hours. PROBLEM SOLVED!


        While we are on the subject of incredibly unnecessary costs; lets not forget the wars that our entire nation are all openly apposed to, even the military doesn’t believe in what they are doing...and that is after being brainwashed by our government. Somehow or another we still continue to pay ridiculous amounts of money to fund not only our own U.S. Military, but also fund the weapons for other countries to actually take down their own country. Just for a few colorful Examples: Syria, Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Japan, Russia, Pakistan....the list goes on and on, but basically the whole world looks at us as a country that is just there to stir the pot, just for the sake of stirring the pot, because it is some form of action....not even necessarily backed up with any sort of positive intentions towards our own country. The government will never allow us to just stop paying taxes so we are forced as civilians to create a critical mass of awakening via the internet to ensure that we as civilians actually have no say in what our dumb ass government is trying to do to the rest of the world.



        What I am trying to say is that it really blows when you don't have a choice in the matter, but you are still forced to do something that you don't really believe in. War, Law,and in this particular situation....being forced to have someone else care for your family members because you no longer have the time or availability to do it yourself sucks giant stinky donkey balls. A lot of these old folks where Alzheimer patients or dementia patients. My own grandmother, who is still very healthy, extremely intelligent and a very respectable person in the community has said, and repeated. “If I ever get to the point where I cant remember who you are, just shoot me”. In the convalescent center that I worked at most of the patients didn't even recognize anyone in their own family when they came to visit. It was sad to see families trying to get a response when introducing a new grand kid or great-grand kid to their elder kin, with no actual verbal or physical response. Which poses the question: “When does it get to the point when you actually have to hire someone to look after your parents, grandparents or great grand parents”? I can only assume that the family finally put them in a home like this when they can't even remember how to fart let alone if the situation escalates to the point where that fart goes too far and they can't communicate the fact that they need a change of pants.

        That being said; after watching 200+ Crypt keeper impersonators soil themselves all day in the convalescent center certain standards seemed to drop off the face of the planet. For one: it made the select few Nurses assistants that i worked with.... (within a decade of my age) suddenly look like the Swedish bikini team. One girl in particular named “Chica”. Chica was probably a 5 or a 6, but the fact that she was the only tail in the building during the late shift that I wouldn't have to dust off to take out to dinner, turned her into a solid 7 1/2.

        After looking at some old pictures of myself with Chica, I will have to be fair and say that I was not much of a prize myself. I only vaguely remember this short period in my life where I apparently lacked the ability to shave or go to the gym. I was Grizzly, and horribly out of shape. My man-boobs where probably bigger than Chica's, but I was too proud to actually wear a bra. On the other hand, I was getting pretty good at drinking contests. I was the undisputed beer shotgunning champion at my high school, and since that was the only thing I could validate as a talent, it was also the only pick up line I had.


Me: Hi I'm Hef.

Chica: Hi I'm Chica

Me: Wanna come over and shotgun some beers with me after work?

Chica: Sure!


I had little to no tact in my high school years, but my diabolical scheme proved to work time and time again....


A) Invite Victim over for drinking contest

B) Convince victim that she is winning the contest

C) Victim becomes inebriated, so I become the hero who offers her a place to crash...(which happens to be in my bed, with me)

D) Inebriated Victim demands spooning partner for night time heat

E) Spooning then leads to forking

F) I WIN!!!!

Granted, at this point in my life I relied pretty heavily on alcohol to convince girls that I was attractive and/ or interesting. I was chubby, hairy, had gnarly snaggle teeth, and I still lived with my mom. Lets face it, I was like a 3 or a 4 at best.

Chica came over that night after work, and my diabolical scheme pretty much went accordingly. We ended up dating for a few weeks and we got to the point where we were starting to meet eachother's extended family. It then came time for Chica to meet my dad.

At this point in my life, my dad was more of a drinking buddy than a real dad. I'm not complaining though, dad taught me a lot of things about fishing, working on cars, woodworking, and he single handedly inspired me to play guitar. Dad had a kegerator within reaching distance of his hot tub, which to me, at the time; was pretty much the equivalent of having a pot of gold within reaching distance of the love grotto pool at the Playboy mansion.

Chica and I arrived at dad's house around 2pm. It was July of 1999, the weather was beautiful and when we got into his house at the Washington state salmon hatchery in Gold Bar, Washington.
There was a full bar set up on the counter in his Martha Stewart-esque kitchen which lay-ed in the center of his nice white 3 bedroom 2 bath manufactured home just a few hundred feet from the bed of the Skykomish river. From what I understand Dad was a bartender in his younger years and, he claims to be one of the pioneers of the matchbook-pusher-man/ bartender tactic. What is the matchbook-pusher-man/bartender tactic you ask?



The Matchbook-pusher-man/ Bartender Tactic:


The idea is simple, yet it can be an elegant and effective strategy to make some extra cash if performed correctly. The difficult part of this diabolical tactic is keeping it simple. Sometimes people get greedy and bite off more than they can chew, and that's when they get caught.


  1. Load up a bunch of match books with one drug of choice. (If your D.O.C. Is too big to fit in a matchbook, discard the idea of selling it and slap yourself in the face as hard as you can for trying to sell pot or mushrooms at a bar. You're dumb! Weed and shrooms are bulky and too easily detected, plus you will never make enough money to make it worth your while. and ... what? Are you 12? Think smaller and more expensive).

  2. Make sure that the buyer/ buyers are friends that you trust. Don't trust any recently acquired drinking buddy or a hot girl with awesome knockers that just so happens to be into which ever D.O.C. You happen to be selling. There really isn't a set of knockers in the world worth going to jail for.

  3. Simplify your business strategy by having only two options in the amount of that ONE drug of choice going into the match books. (by adding a second, or third drug you have just created a liability to inevitably fuck up, resulting in confrontation with the buyers that are now at your place of work )

  4. Create code words for the amount of the D.O.C. That they intend to buy: 1 gram = “1 beer, and a book of matches” or 2 grams = “Double shot of whiskey and a book of matches”.

  5. Ring in transaction to the cash register nonchalantly, cleverly pushing the clientele to not only pay for the drug, but buy a drink as well (chances are good that they will not only pay for the loaded matchbook, but also tip you for the drink you have just poured them as well).

  6. Proceed to win at life.

        The easiest and most common way to fuck this up is to use the three words that have and will destroy any underground operation. “Tell your friends”. If you are trying to boost your sales, and have a steady flow of product, stick with your original clientele. Let that clientele do the dirty work for you, they want to do it, and it is easy to sell in bulk if you know to prepare yourself in advance for a large purchase. There is nothing more annoying than having a liability walk into your bar. A liability that you have never even met, and he/she just so happens to be fiending for the drug that you have just sold to a mutual friend. The only way to turn this around if there are witnesses, is to make the fiend the negative center of attention. Have security escort them out (claim that they are crackheads and just offered to suck your dick to find them some drugs) By the time all of the commotion of having a crackhead escorted out of the building has died down, most people wouldn't even consider the fact that you might have enough Coke on you to have Scarface crying in a corner.



Dad started us off with some of the basics: Duck Farts, then B-52s then “Ooooh, wait B-52's are good, lets have another”....and another. Now why don't we just drink Crown royal straight.....That was delicious!...lets do that again!...and another.....ooooh lets have another B-52.... etc.etc....etc

It was a gorgeous day in the middle of summer, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Chica and I had planned to go down to the river behind dads house. Before we did however, we decided to get busy with dads kegerator. I probably sucked down 5 or 6 beers just to show off my new found ability to chug beer to my dad.

I had my shirt off and again; I was chubby, hairy and tremendously out of shape.

“Jeez, Hef, you're starting to look like your old man”. Dad said chuckling. I didn't really know how to take that comment, but I looked at the both of us in the reflection of his sliding glass door next to the kegerator. We were both overweight, balding, half drunk. We were both wearing almost identical khaki shorts and nothing else. The difference between him and I was that I actually kind of looked older from a distance. My body was much hairier than his. I was kind of grossed out by the idea that my dad looked younger and healthier than I did. I vowed that day to get my ass on a decent diet and workout regimen...which worked eventually, but it took a couple of years before I actually got ripped and toned. I also started ridding myself of unsightly body hair...aka: shaving everything....I mean everything.....except eyebrows and armpits.

Chica was relatively silent during this whole encounter. She was an adopted child and was home schooled by a military family most of her life. She rarely spoke unless spoken to.

I asked dad if it would be o.k. if we went down to the river for a bit, he said sure why don't you save a few minutes and take the 4-wheelers (He called them “The Puppies”)?


Oh HELL YA!!! I cheered!

4 Wheelers or ATV's are some of the funnest and most entertaining things that god ever bestowed the human race with on this planet. Its a car, with no doors or a roof, huge mud tires and the ability to go anywhere on it, even through several feet of water....and get this...there is a beer holder right in between the handle bars. Brilliant!! It's like a golf cart on steroids!


Following a short tutorial on how to drive the little ATVs we were on the path to the river. I have had a lot of experience riding these things so I was going really fast and Chica was right behind me. I was starting to feel the effects of the7+ shots of hard alcohol and 5 or 6 beers warm up my belly. It was then that I also learned that you should probably eat something before you drink that much in such a small period of time. My stomach was empty until the shots and keg beer filled up my guts. I was full blown drunk in retarded drunk. It only just dawned on me that Chica had kept up with me on every drink that I had ingested and that she is keeping up with me on a narrow trail with cliffs on both sides on a vehicle she just learned how to drive 2 minutes ago....drunk. She was no longer behind me. DAMMITTTT!!

I came to a screeching halt and got off my ATV and looked back where Chica should have been by now. I got off of the puppy and backtracked on foot for what seemed like a mile. I was starting to think that she had just turned around and went back to the house. I looked on both sides of the narrow path and saw only the rocky embankments that were once a river bed. The river level had gone down monumentally due to the heat and lack of precipitation. I couldn't hear the rumble of the small engine that was following me any more. All I could hear was the wind through the leaves. I was stumbling at this point and my lips and face had gone numb due to the excessive amounts of alcohol that I had guzzled in the last 30 minutes. My vision was blurry. It hadn't even occurred to me to call out her name until now. Chica!!! Chicaaaa!!!!

As I turned around on foot to head back to the Atv that I had jumped off of and had pointing in the wrong direction on a 4 foot wide balance beam of rock and dirt, The bright blue fenders of Chica's ATV caught my eye. It was on its side, 20 feet down a rocky embankment. No sign of chica. I stumbled down the rocky embankment to find Chica laying on the ground behind the overturned ATV. She was moving but silent. I finally scaled the embankment to where her body was laying. There was blood all over her pant leg and she was moaning in pain. “I think my leg is broken” she muttered.

I looked at her in disbelief. She was probably just in shock and It really isn't as bad as it seems. I asked if I could move her and she said I could try. I picked her up like a vietnam vet trying to take a wounded soldier to safety. Her arm was over my shoulder and her body weight was balancing on my hips.

Me: still think it is broken?

Chica: I don't know, it just hurts a lot.

Me: do you think we can get you back to the trail?

Chica: ya Grunt* I think so.


        It had occurred to me that she had ingested more than enough alcohol to blanket the pain of a broken bone, as well as being able to settle the shock of basically dropping off of a cliff side on a vehicle she had no idea how to operate. This may actually be worse than we thought.

        We, climbed to the top of the rocky embankment and I left her at the pathway so I could get my ATV and bring her back to dads house for help. I drunkenly jogged back to my ATV so I could her her back to safety as fast as possible. I had so much adrenalin surging through my system that I actually picked up the front end of the vehicle and turned it around to face back towards the part of the trail that I had just left Chica.

        I loaded her up behind me on the ATV and kept her leg elevated over the top of my thigh. The blood was seeping through my pants and I could feel it go from warm to cold as the fast air was coagulating it. I had just enough television knowledge to look for protruding bones amongst her bloody pant leg. I saw none, so I figured we were just looking at a flesh wound and some bruising. We pulled up to dad's house, and I walked in as nonchalantly as possible. Hey man, we had a little accident. After a few drinks dad starts to sound like a wwf wrestler and hollered back at me. “Jeez Dave what did you do to your girlfriend?”

“Pop, I think she broke her leg, should we take her to the hospital?”

Dad: Shit Hef, the hospital is in Monroe, 50 miles away and we are all drunk. By the way, both of you are underage. Does that sound like a good idea? I can see the headline now: “Drunk old bastard drives drunk underage kids to the hospital because he got them whiskey drunk and they got themselves in a ATV wreck”? “That don't sound good to me niether”

One thing I can never accuse my father of is being irrational when you have to think through a distress scenario on the fly. He was right. If we drove to town drunk we would get caught. Even if we didnt get caught by the cops we would still have to explain the scenario to the which case we would ultimately screw ourselves further.


Me: I dunno, man what about an ambulance?


Chica enters the room limping towards us and bleeding on the carpet....


Dads face now red and pissy.


Me: do you have insurance?

Chica: yeah, grunt* but if I have to take an ambulance my dad is going to find out and then he is also going to find out that I was drinking with you and he will never trust you....(starts crying irrationally)

Dad: well, I guess we are going to have to wait and sober up then.

Me: ummm...we all drank our weight in hard alcohol and keg beer, none of us are going to be sober by morning.(slurred)

Dad: Well, lets see if we cant at least patch her up till morning then?


I have always found that in a pinch dad is very creative in these kinds of situations.

Dad: Alright Hef lets get your girlfriend into the bathtub so we can clean her off and see what we are looking at.


        Dad turned on the bathroom light and started the faucet. Once Chica sat down on the side of the bathtub with her back against the opposite side from the faucet she pulled up her pant leg to reveal the bloody mess that the ATV had bestowed on her. She was wincing in pain as she slowly splashed some water on it. Dad didn't gasp or even flinch when the wound was fully exposed, he calmly grabbed a bottle of astringent and a bottle of whiskey out of the bathroom cupboard at the same time. ( I had a feeling this wasn't his first rodeo) “Drink this” he said with that same WWF wrestler tone.

        Her leg was swollen and it was a bloody mess, I could see the exposed bone now, which put me into shock. I didn't know how to handle a situations like this. Dad was as calm as a cow in tall grass. Dad had broken a few bones in his day and knew exactly how to handle the situation. “First, I have to put the bone back in straight” he exclaimed. “How, exactly are you going to do that pop'? I asked. Chica was wincing at the cold water that dad was helping her wash the wound with.




        To this day, I have never seen anyone do anything as crazy or psychotic, and we are talking about my dad dad: A man that I adore, and will love till the day I die. The man who admittedly taught me what NOT to do in order to succeed in life (and he will be the first one to tell you). The man who taught me how to freebase crack on Christmas, euthanized his cat with a hatchet, and killed an endangered species in front of a school bus full of children. 

        From what I have gathered from both of my parent's brief story of their relationship was sort of insane on it's own.  Apparently, Dad met Mom at his own prison release party and I was conceived at a Rush concert while they were both on shrooms. I could go on for days about the insane stuff that my dad has said and done. I love the man, and frankly I am proud to say that the apple does'nt fall far from the tree.


         He grabbed both sides of Chica's wound with his bare hands and with a tremendous thud that shook the floor....pounded Chica's leg against the pillow that was bolted on the back of the tub for back support. He gave it one more solid whack before anyone knew what was going on. Chica let out a yelp of pain...shortly followed by a “What the fuck??!!?!?!?!” It almost harmonized with the “what the fuck” I had exclaimed at that very moment.

Dad's notorious redneck WWF wrestler drawl rang throughout the house with a hearty echo.

“Well, there ya go darlin, all better!!!”


Chica had tears running down her face, but she wasn't crying. She was just very, very surprised.


Chica: Why didn't you tell me you were going to do that?

Dad: Heh, heh, if I told you what I planned on doin, ya never would uh let me do it would ya?


He had a point.


Dad: Now lets sterlize this sone-bitch and wrap her up.

        Dad grabbed a cap full of astringent and put it right on the top of the wound and daubed it off with the hand towel. He dressed her wound with a couple of gauze pads with the precision of a neurosurgeon and hollered “alright, now we need a splint to keep it straight”. As I was exiting the bathroom. I probably spent 10 minutes trying to find something that was at least competent enough to keep it straight. I was retarded with fear and amp-ed by adrenalin. I was running a mile a minute trying to find anything that was even just straight and easily salvageable. I searched dads shop...PVC pipe....nah, 2X4 chunks...nah....”that's not classy”....oooooh...”there's an old lawnmower blade” it would probably work but that would be weird if she showed up at home with a sling blade on her leg.

        We obviously didn’t have any pain we resorted to whiskey. Probably the worst idea ever. We took whiskey fast as we could. We decided that the sling blade was too long for Chica's leg so I kept looking. I was about to give up the search when I noticed the perfect solution. Dad had the most amazing back scratcher in the world....unfortunately that backscratcher was the one that he used to scratch his Basset hound “Tater's”Butt. I don't think I realized it at the time but Tater's butt scratching unit was sort of an icon in the household, but it was the perfect splint, length width and all!!!!

Against our better judgment; we left Tater's butt unattended for the night and proceeded on with our psycho surgery. It was the perfect length and size and we were desperate, however when it came time to tape it on we were without surgical tape so we had to get crafty. Dad and my eyes met as we knew exactly how to handle the situation...we both said aloud in perfect drunken harmony to one of gods greatest gifts to mankind: Duct tape!!!!!

Yes, that is correct. We duct taped Dad's basset hound's butt scratch-er on to Chica's leg with surgical precision and carried on with the night. Poor Tater was forced to find other means of Butt scratching for the evening.



        The adrenaline that had been surging through my system was starting to wear off and I could finally feel the effects of the whiskey we had been drinking through the surgery. Chica was as calm as a cow on heroin.  Which meant there was nothing shielding the 15+ shots of hard alcohol from my brain any more. It was the second time my body had gone numb from alcohol that day and I was grateful. I booked it to the back porch where I projectile vomitted like a pro, right into the flower bed below the back porch. Dad and Chica both watched the whole thing go down. Dad cheered me on as he came outside to grab the garden hose. He gave me a pat on the back as I stood up wiping my lips with my bare wrist. I hunched over and attacked his garden one last time as dad started  to spray down the kaleidoscope of colorful stomach grease chunks that I had bestowed on his porch and rose garden.

        I was buckled over in exhaustion and after the last bit of my kaleidoscope movement made its way on to dad's garden, I mustered up the last bit of energy that I had to literally crawl to the guest bedroom . I was out like a light within seconds....but not for long....

        Dad woke me up an hour or two later and said “Hey Bo-ugh! (boy)  Drink this, it'll make ya feel better”!

        I didn't ask any questions. I was parched enough to have happily drank Rush Limbaugh's ball sweat off of Chris Farley's asshole if it would quench my thirst. I guzzled the ungodly awful concoction, and after I got down to the last inch of the pint glass full of what I can only describe as alcoholic diarrhea, I looked up at dad with a face filled with horror. “Jeeeezusss man! What is that?” I gurgled.

“Son, that was the hangover cure”. He cackled in between bursts of laughter, chuckling and shaking his head.

        Surprisingly enough withing a few minutes I did actually feel better. I got up and went into the kitchen where dad and Chica were watching T.V. I asked dad again what I had just drank and this time he brought me to the liquor cabinet and opened it. “A little bit of everything son!” “You really are a shameless, boozeguzzlin hussy ain't ya?”

        Years later I could identify the bottles that I had seen in his liquor cabinet...they all spelled bad news for a hangover. Peach, peppermint, and watermelon schnapps. Crown royal, Yukon jack, Crème de cocoa, and blue curacao. These are literally the best ingredients to give someone a hangover that would have you gladly suck down the spunk of 1,000 El Salvadorian midgets to avoid a hangover of this magnitude even for a minute. Which seems sort of strange that they had managed to elude mine so quickly.

“Well, young Hef: I just took a shot from each one of these bottles and topped it off with tomato juice. Pretty fuckin tasty eh?” Dad said sarcastically as he was fixing us both up another cocktail.

“Well, to be fair pop....ya I actually feel pretty good”. I answered back as I was keeping my balance using the countertop.


        I felt the sudden urge to clean myself up a bit. I still had a mosaic masterpiece of vomit chunks plastered across my shirt and pants. I was smart enough to bring an entire change of clothes (that were meant for changing into after playing in the river). There was no better way to fashionably get cleaned up than the hot tub...which was conveniently located right next to the the is obviously a genius for locating the kegerator within reaching distance of the hot tub...just saying.

        I was feeling well enough to start drinking again...”Dad, I think it is hot tub time”. He nodded in agreement as he was handing me a fresh Crown and coke. “Ya, a dip in the hot tub, would be good for all of us”....he raised his glass and took a swig. “There is a couple of mats out back that we can prop up your girlfriend's leg with so we don't get her fancy new leg splint wet”....Chuckles.

        Dad has that hoarse ex-smoker chuckle that almost sounds like a cough. When combined with his WWF wrestler voice it is intimidating but oddly makes any dash of humor sound a hundred times more funny than if any other person was announcing these kinds of statements.

        As Chica and I were getting ready to get into the tub, dad was turning on some tunes. We were just getting adjusted to the heat from the tub on our legs as the sounds of Led Zeppelin started blaring through the outdoor speakers above our heads. I poured a beer for dad and one for Chica. Dad jumped into the tub with no warning and immediately started scratching his legs and back to fight the pain of heat shock......”GAWD DAMN THAT'S NICE”....”YA TAH HEEEEEEY” he hollered as I was pouring myself a keg beer. I was super dehydrated from the copious amounts of alcohol I had not only ingested but dispersed of as well. My mind and body were starting to believe that keg beer was water, and that I needed to drink it as quickly as possible. My body was starting to believe that it was rehydrating me and my mind was believing that it was making me feel better. I drank 3 or 4 back to back and then challenged dad to a beer drinking competition. He I win!!! “oh yeah? What do you win there poncho?” “Another beer!” I exclaimed with childlike delight. We all chuckled because we were feeling better about the situation and also felt as though we had gotten through the worst that the night could possibly have to offer us.         Chica's body was fully submerged in the tub with the exception of her face and her “Dog-Butt-scratcher-Leg” She was leaning up against me, guzzling a beer of her own. Dad was across the tub from both of us, showing us his amazing “magically appearing bubbles trick."

        Dad was a master of the art of fart. He liked having an audience to bask in the glory of his flatulence. He was a pioneer of making farts funny. He was always creative with his butthole burps and would make a spectacle of himself whenever the occasion presented itself...Which was pretty regularly. Most of the time he would either make a funny gesture like a train conductor pulling the horn as he unleashed a whole mortuary of shit ghosts, followed by a movie quote or uncanny original. 

        The hot tub was in silent mode, so in the few short breaks between Zeppelin tunes dad would fill in the gaps with his comedy/ colon relief. He cracked a fart so guttorally huge that in between "Stairway to heaven, and Battle of Evermore" he was actually silent for a few seconds. Everything was silent for a few seconds. He had a semi-frightened face all of a sudden. 


Dad: So, uhhh....when you burp and a little bit of puke comes up it's called a gurp right? (he was very quiet all of a sudden) 

(Everything was hot tub jets, no Zeppelin tunes...just silence and the slow slow gurgle of hot tub water.)

Me: Yeah, or just a chunky burp. 

Dad: What do you call a fart when a little bit of shit comes out?


Chica and I looked at eachother with a mutual inevitably unfortunate understanding of what he was suggesting.


Me: It's called a shart there something you want to tell us?

Dad: I sharted.


          He said it like a 6 year old girl that accidentally started drawing outside the lines of her coloring book. "Oooopsie" he said while covering his mouth with a flat hand. I went into immediate spastic laughter, I laughed so hard that  it started to make me cough. Chica sat up to give me some space to let it all out. I was no longer able to control my coughing episode. In between my coughing fits I was gasping for air. I took one deep breath through my nose to try and control myself, and thats when it hit me. I could smell everything dad ate that day. Clear as a glass house. I could smell the ham sandwich that he had for lunch, the homemade biscuits and gravy that he had for breakfast, and even the last couple of keg beers that he muscled down while I was puking my guts out all over his rose garden. I coughed so hard that I started feeling my stomach wanting to eject the 4 beers and mystery concoction from it, and there was no stopping it. I looked at dad with a face of despiration. The lights from inside the hot tub gave me an almost magnified glance at what lied beneath the surface. I could see dad's pasty white legs and his hairless pony keg gut. His shorts were loose on him and although they were black, I could still make out the tiny pebbles of diarrhea that snuck out from under the waisteband, they were contrasted against the front of his shorts and started floating to the surface. It didn't really dawn on me what exactly was going on until the liquid asteroids started to contrast against his pasty white belly. 

        That is shit! and it is not solid!

        Chica was fortunate to get her head out from my beer gurping range. Had she moved just a few seconds too late she would have had a beard of my keg beer gurp on her face that would have made Santa Claus jealous. Chica panicked when she saw my gurp hit the hot tub water and immediately reached her hands up to the side of the tub. Her whole body slipped backwards sending the back of her head right into my nose.F!@$%!$%***

        I saw stars instantly. That's all I could see, because her wet hair slapped me right in the eyeballs as her head slammed into my nose. It felt like it didn't even take a second before my nose started pouring blood like a running faucet. Chica wasn't even aware of the horror that I just witnessed my Dad's rectum emit into the hot tub. The shock of the face bashing and mid beer gurp sent the diarrhea-stank-driven shock wave of nausea into my stomach which immediately turned my belly into a flash flood of alcoholic turmoil which now included 4 keg beers and Dad's mystery hangover concoction. It  had been marinating nicely in my stomach for the last half hour and now my alcohol baby was ready to show itself to the world. My eyes were shut uncontrollably by the pain Chica had inflicted on my face, both by her hair and the back of her skull. I was blinded, but I could still feel her body leaning back onto mine. I could feel her hair and the back of her head on my lap...which meant she had gotten submerged from the awkward position her fall had left her with.

        I felt the inevitable coming on with no chance of recovery. This was going to be the big one. 4 keg beers holding down a pint glass full of the most terrifyingly horrible liquors known to man. I was trapped in my seat by Chica. My nose was spouting blood all over my chest and I didn’t have enough reach to aim the vomit stream over the side of the hot tub. My only option was straight ahead. My eyes still clenched shut with pain, I let out a burp that was spacious and spastic as if someone was beating on my chest as I was belting it out. I could open my eyes just wide enough to see the whimsical look on my dad's face. It was that look that words weren't even necessary. It was the look of “WHAT THE FUCK???!!”

        My body jolted as my stomach was preparing to unleash high pressure death on the unfortunate soul that was in it's path. My hands were pinned under Chica so I had no way to shield the stream of wretch that was about to erupt out of my mouth. It shot at dad with the strength and precision of an inner city fire truck hose. I tried desperately to aim my stream away from him but it was too late. I hit him directly in the chest and the pressure of my stream splattered it onto his face. I could only barely see the reaction that he had for a brief second. It looked like a child getting hit with a solid spray of garden hose water in the summer time. His hands were attempting to block the stream and his eyes were clenched shut. His lips were held so tight together you would think he was in an inner city prison cell in San Francisco. It sent Chica up from the depths of my loin in the hot tub water. If my hands werent pinned under her body I would have tried to hold her under the water until the monumental chuke had passed. She had unfortunately made it to the top of the water gasping for air as she was faced up towards me. I had pasted her face as the pressure of the vomit started to fade, the gasp of air that she was attempting to breathe in with some despair was in fact the tail pressure of my vomit. My nose was still running like a faucet as well, but my eyes were closed so lets just assume that she didnt get a few drops of my nose blood in her mouth along with my copious trail of projectile vomit....because I couldn't actually see it happen.

        The hot tub was now a smorgasbord of body fluids ranging from; blood, to vomit, to the fecal matter particles that emitted from dad's rectum as he was showing off his amazing “magically appearing bubbles trick”

        Dad had gotten splattered in the eyes, face, and chest. Chica had gotten a pretty good amount of stomach grease in her eyes as well. We were all blinded by vomit and hot tub water and started to panic to get out of the tub. I remained calm as I slowly reached my hand backwards to find a railing. I quietly and slowly pulled myself out of the tub like a beached baby seal, touching my belly to everything so I could feel my way out as I was blinded.

        Dad rolled over the rack military style. He had a much farther way to go to the floor but he knew his own tub so he dismounted over the top like a professional. He hit the ground on his feet and immediately landed square on his butt as he slipped on the vomit that had made itself all the way to the floor behind him. Dad and I almost harmonized with a good old fashioned “WHAT THE FUCK”! As we hit the ground. Chica was still stuck in the tub. Her bum leg was not allowing her to comfortably move out of the tub. Her adrenaline had run out too, the combination of booze, blood loss and the heat from the hot tub drained her of energy. She was trying desperately to get out of the body fluid stew, but didn't have the gas to get there. She was squealing like an 8 year old girl that had just stepped on a banana slug while barefoot, and she was clawing at the top of the hot tub to the likes of a rabid Wolverine. I was underneath the tub so I could hear her body thumping on the sides of the fiberglass and hear her fingernails trying to grasp anything on the tub that would allow her to escape. She started with her bum leg and pulled her body over the top. I knew it was a bad idea from the start, not only because she couldn't see the ground below to allow herself a safe landing...but, also because... I was the landing down below. I could see her face in the light, her hair was covered in chunks. She was squeeling through her nose which created little snot-vomit bubbles as she was pushing out air. She made one full body hurl in attempt to push herself over the rail of the hot tub. I could foresee a disaster happening if she were to land on top of me so I mustered up the last bit of energy that my body had left, and rolled into the pike position like a drunken stick rolling towards the door opposite the hot tub. I didn't see her land, but I heard her whole body hit the ground with one great wet SLAP!!!! against the cement patio that the hot tub was covering.

        Throughout the course of the night Chica rarely complained or showed any sign of weakness. All things considered, she was a trooper. She had broken her leg, got puked on...shit on, and possibly bled her mouth. Her novice and non-reluctant advancement to meeting my family had officially broken her.....literally. She brushed herself off as she opened the door. Looked at both my dad and I who were still laying in a pool of filth and hot tub water on the ground and announced: “I'm going to go ahead and take a shower”. “Oh....and I hope you don't mind that I am not going to bother wrapping myself in a towel before I go to it do you?” Dad just laughed....then he coughed out the words: ”Shit naww, it' wouldn't do you any good anyways, cough cough*”. Dad had the wind knocked out of him, but he kept his sense of humor about him, as usual.

        Chica went inside as dad and I laid in the puddle of filth and just laughed. We eventually got up and washed our drunk asses off in the river a hundred feet or so from his back porch. We went inside and re-dressed her fancy new splint and went to bed.

        The next day, Chica and I went back home and called out of work at the convalescent center. Chica went to the hospital and was fitted with a real cast.

        Chica's dad got the whole story from Chica at the hospital and was forbidden to see me any more. I got a phone call from the convalescent center the next day and they said I was “no longer needed”. I have a sneaking suspicion that Chica's dad had something to do with that...seeing as how they never gave me a reason.....and Chica didn't get fired despite her broken leg and copious amounts of time off for healing a bone that was broken do to excessive drinking and general negligence (that I may or may not have ensued upon her).

        We loosely stayed in contact for a month or so, but never got the chance to see each other again until one day about 3 years later, we ran into each other at the Department of Licensing. She was with her husband of 2 years and had 2 little half Mexican babies with her. We had a very quaint and polite meeting however...


I have no doubt in my mind that on her way home she explained the story of how she broke her leg while operating a vehicle that she learned how to drive in less than a minute...while drunk. Then got patched up by some drunk old redneck, and some douchebag that she barely knew...with a dogs-butt-scratcher and duct tape. Got puked on, shit on,  bled on, and took a bath in human excrement.

In the off chance that she may actually want to keep this story a secret, I took it upon myself to tell the world about this one really bad date.  





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