CrimsonHaze,
Thank you for correcting me on that.
And I am really looking forward to the next post. I want to see what type of person I am.
Youthful Indescretions
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DVD Burner
- Posts: 11031
- Joined: Fri Dec 12, 2003 3:09 am
- Burning Since: 1986
- Camp Name: White Trash Camp
- Contact:
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Treehugr11
- Posts: 15
- Joined: Thu Apr 15, 2004 2:14 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
Hot scrotums
Calsur, I for one will not be using Icy Hot. My cream of choice will be a rub I recieved from the chiropractor, which had much cayenne pepper in it. When you use it the night before and take a shower the next day, it flames up again like it was just applied...So much for the ice relief... Poor Ring, hope he continues banging on the keys like Ray Charles playin the Blues...(Side note: you people are too funny for your own good, and I just might forfeit the 20 and do it for free...)
Look for the trees first....Then put on the windshield wipers...and get a clean look....
Love California
Ring,
Right now I am REALLY happy I live in CALIFORNIA and YOU live in Chattanooga, Tennessee with a certian violent femme.
And Treehugr11, Ring has been WAY funnier than me.
Sorry Ring, better you than me.
Right now I am REALLY happy I live in CALIFORNIA and YOU live in Chattanooga, Tennessee with a certian violent femme.
And Treehugr11, Ring has been WAY funnier than me.
Sorry Ring, better you than me.
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RingO'Fire
- Posts: 978
- Joined: Mon Mar 01, 2004 3:00 am
- Location: Chattanooga
Re: Hot scrotums
Treehugr11 wrote: ...rub...cayenne pepper...shower...flames up again...
Poor Ring, hope he continues banging on the keys like Ray Charles playin the Blues...
calsur wrote:Ring,
Right now I am REALLY happy I live in CALIFORNIA and YOU live in Chattanooga, Tennessee with a certian violent femme.
Dammit! Just when I got tired of peddlin' and thought I could coast for a few days, my scrotum get threatened again! Damn the luck!
All right already! I give up! I got a proposition for you'uns though. How about this? Tonight, I get to go out and have a few margaritas with the ladies on Stinko D' Mayo, then tomorrow night I make like Ray Charles and bang out the next chapter? ("Baby, what'd I say?") OK? Cool then! It's a deal!
calsur,
I think I may have "turned" one of your agents sabateur, Crimson Haze, to join my team, at least for the time being, by buying her dinner Saturday night. Looks like you may have to up the ante.
Treehumpr,
If I ever let you near my nutsack, I'm going to have to give you the "FBI" treatment first to make sure you don't have any of that cayenne shit stashed on you! What is the "FBI" treatment, you ask? Heck, I thought everybody knew that FBI stands for "female body inspector."
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...
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Treehugr11
- Posts: 15
- Joined: Thu Apr 15, 2004 2:14 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
Ring: "Treehumpr,
If I ever let you near my nutsack, I'm going to have to give you the "FBI" treatment first to make sure you don't have any of that cayenne shit stashed on you! What is the "FBI" treatment, you ask? Heck, I thought everybody knew that FBI stands for "female body inspector."
Ahhhh, the shit I have to do to get Ring to cop a feel....And FYI, I do not hump trees....Lawdy the splinters in my thighs...Although I love my trees, it's not the method I choose to get "wood".....
If I ever let you near my nutsack, I'm going to have to give you the "FBI" treatment first to make sure you don't have any of that cayenne shit stashed on you! What is the "FBI" treatment, you ask? Heck, I thought everybody knew that FBI stands for "female body inspector."
Ahhhh, the shit I have to do to get Ring to cop a feel....And FYI, I do not hump trees....Lawdy the splinters in my thighs...Although I love my trees, it's not the method I choose to get "wood".....
Look for the trees first....Then put on the windshield wipers...and get a clean look....
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CrimsonHaze
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:30 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
- Contact:
Whew...Did someone turn the thermostat up in here??
CrimsonHaze waits patiently behind a tree in the dark, moonlit park, watching the man in the fedora approach. She slowly draws on the cigarette in her mouth and steps out to meet him.
"It is true?" He questions immediately.
CrimsonHaze lets out a low chuckle. "We had a deal, correct?"
Calsur nods.
"And the deal has yet to close?"
He nods again.
"Then I dont believe I need to answer that question."
She slowly bends and snuffs out her cigarette, slipping it into her pocket.
"It seemed it may be good to give him some false hope." She says with a smile.
"Good." Calsur says, a smile spreading across his face. He takes out a cigar...
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
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angrykittie25
- Posts: 113
- Joined: Tue Feb 24, 2004 2:00 pm
I have one of those "I was so stone" stories. It is still one of my more memorable moments (and there are many so if you guys want to hear more let me know)
Well it was my junior year in high school and my english teacher was having us do a group project on something about mark twaine. This teacher was obsesced with all things Mark Twain so all of our project were on one of his stories. I had just moved so I was the "new kid" in a small mountain town. I ended up being placed in the stoner/punk/goth crowd. So me and my group met up at kelly's house. Kelly happened to be the biggest stoner in school, and her mom let her do just about anything that she wanted, which is why we chose her house. We were all sitting there trying to come up with an idea on what to do. Kelly came up with the great idea of getting stoned first so we would have more fun. It sounded like a decent idea so she started loading up her home made water bong.
Now the weed we used to smoke in my previous town was very cheap, therefore very weak. I was thinking this would be the same. So I took my hit (which was about two normal bowls which I took in one hit) and sat back and waited for everyone else to take their turn. Not too long after that The room started swaying and if felt like I was under water. Nothing I had ever done hit me like this did. I found it hard to even think and my reaction time was way way down. I went from staring at the wall to having my whole group in my face. Their mouths were moving but I couldn't hear what they were saying. Then it was like someone hit the mute button and I could hear again but I couldn't understand them. Then I felt like I was going to puke, but i kept spacing on what it felt like and I just sat there. Kelly tried to grab the trash can, but it was too late. I puked all over her bed and floor. I felt so embarrassed and stupid. I never knew anyone puking off of pot. Atleast I didn't puke on myself. The shoved me to the side and cleaned up the mess. They then decided we should go on a road trip. Kelly had a high tolerance for pot due to her smoking mass quantities on a daily basis so she was still sober enough to drive. So they tell me to get up so we can leave, but I couldn't figure out how to stand up. I kept telling them that I couldn't do it, but they insisted that I could. Then all of a sudden I was up, and I had no idea how I did it. Then they tried to get me to walk. I told them that there was no way I could do that. I kept trying to remember the mechanics behind walking and kept thinking that I should be able to since I do it everyday, but at that moment it just seemed impossible. They finally distracted me enough that I stopped trying to figure out how to do it and they started moving towards the door, which made me walk towards the door as well. I was so proud of myself that I could walk. So we got into the car and headed off toward the school to get some books that kelly had forgotten in her locker. I could barely hold my head up and all I could see out the window was green. The trees blurred into green nothingness and I just stared and wondered. We got to the school and grabbed the books, they decided to leave me in the car because it would be too much trouble to get me to walk, and a teacher might realize that I was high (how could they not). They got back in the car and had brought another one of my school mates along to give him a ride home. He immediatly noticed my lack of sobriety and proceded to ask me if I was high, I told him no. Then he started fucking with me. The whole waving his hand in front of my face, and then moving his hand toward my face until I fell backward. It felt like the longest 10 minutes of my life and he loved every minute of it.
Anyway we finally get back to the house. Upon our return I have an epiphany, I can walk easily again. So we go in the house and sit down to figure out our project. I am still very stoned as is everyone else (from their second trip to the bedroom for more pot, I declined). So we decide to make our project a tree of some sort. So we are cutting and pasting different parts of Huckleberry Fin (if I remember correctly) on branches of this tree that we had cut out of construction paper. We pasted it on some poster board and we were done. We put it in kelly's car so that we wouldn't forget it.
So the next day in english class (first period), groups are going up and talking about their assignments. Kelly is nowhere to be found. Finally right before it is our turn to go up in front of the class, she walks in with our project rolled up like a poster under her arm. She sits down and then we are called. We go in front of the class, she unrolls our project towards the class...AND THEY ALL START LAUGHING! None of us can figure out what's going on. Then we all look at our poster. The actual shape of our "tree" bears a striking resemblance to a potted marijuanna plant, not to mention that all of our captions and quotes from the book are sideways or upside down. I think that we had 3 out of 12 that looked right. It was pretty obvious to everyone that our pre-project activities had influenced our project more than we had anticipated. We found this more amusing than the class, but we knew we were in trouble.
The bell rings and our teacher asks us to stay after class. Now we are all thinking that he is going to call our parents and tell the principal. He comes over to us...and politely asks that next time we do a project, we should celebrate after the project is done instead of before. THAT WAS IT! As we were walking out the door he says,"Aren't munchies a bitch". It turns out that he had noticed cheeto cheese prints all over the board as well. So we learned a valuable lesson that day. Projects first, fun later. And that our teacher had a liking for pot as well as his whiskey.
Sorry this ended up being so long. Its not as good as ring's stories but it was definatly fun to experience.
p.s. found out later that this was top of the line bud, and I was used to the bottom of the barrel weed.
Well it was my junior year in high school and my english teacher was having us do a group project on something about mark twaine. This teacher was obsesced with all things Mark Twain so all of our project were on one of his stories. I had just moved so I was the "new kid" in a small mountain town. I ended up being placed in the stoner/punk/goth crowd. So me and my group met up at kelly's house. Kelly happened to be the biggest stoner in school, and her mom let her do just about anything that she wanted, which is why we chose her house. We were all sitting there trying to come up with an idea on what to do. Kelly came up with the great idea of getting stoned first so we would have more fun. It sounded like a decent idea so she started loading up her home made water bong.
Now the weed we used to smoke in my previous town was very cheap, therefore very weak. I was thinking this would be the same. So I took my hit (which was about two normal bowls which I took in one hit) and sat back and waited for everyone else to take their turn. Not too long after that The room started swaying and if felt like I was under water. Nothing I had ever done hit me like this did. I found it hard to even think and my reaction time was way way down. I went from staring at the wall to having my whole group in my face. Their mouths were moving but I couldn't hear what they were saying. Then it was like someone hit the mute button and I could hear again but I couldn't understand them. Then I felt like I was going to puke, but i kept spacing on what it felt like and I just sat there. Kelly tried to grab the trash can, but it was too late. I puked all over her bed and floor. I felt so embarrassed and stupid. I never knew anyone puking off of pot. Atleast I didn't puke on myself. The shoved me to the side and cleaned up the mess. They then decided we should go on a road trip. Kelly had a high tolerance for pot due to her smoking mass quantities on a daily basis so she was still sober enough to drive. So they tell me to get up so we can leave, but I couldn't figure out how to stand up. I kept telling them that I couldn't do it, but they insisted that I could. Then all of a sudden I was up, and I had no idea how I did it. Then they tried to get me to walk. I told them that there was no way I could do that. I kept trying to remember the mechanics behind walking and kept thinking that I should be able to since I do it everyday, but at that moment it just seemed impossible. They finally distracted me enough that I stopped trying to figure out how to do it and they started moving towards the door, which made me walk towards the door as well. I was so proud of myself that I could walk. So we got into the car and headed off toward the school to get some books that kelly had forgotten in her locker. I could barely hold my head up and all I could see out the window was green. The trees blurred into green nothingness and I just stared and wondered. We got to the school and grabbed the books, they decided to leave me in the car because it would be too much trouble to get me to walk, and a teacher might realize that I was high (how could they not). They got back in the car and had brought another one of my school mates along to give him a ride home. He immediatly noticed my lack of sobriety and proceded to ask me if I was high, I told him no. Then he started fucking with me. The whole waving his hand in front of my face, and then moving his hand toward my face until I fell backward. It felt like the longest 10 minutes of my life and he loved every minute of it.
Anyway we finally get back to the house. Upon our return I have an epiphany, I can walk easily again. So we go in the house and sit down to figure out our project. I am still very stoned as is everyone else (from their second trip to the bedroom for more pot, I declined). So we decide to make our project a tree of some sort. So we are cutting and pasting different parts of Huckleberry Fin (if I remember correctly) on branches of this tree that we had cut out of construction paper. We pasted it on some poster board and we were done. We put it in kelly's car so that we wouldn't forget it.
So the next day in english class (first period), groups are going up and talking about their assignments. Kelly is nowhere to be found. Finally right before it is our turn to go up in front of the class, she walks in with our project rolled up like a poster under her arm. She sits down and then we are called. We go in front of the class, she unrolls our project towards the class...AND THEY ALL START LAUGHING! None of us can figure out what's going on. Then we all look at our poster. The actual shape of our "tree" bears a striking resemblance to a potted marijuanna plant, not to mention that all of our captions and quotes from the book are sideways or upside down. I think that we had 3 out of 12 that looked right. It was pretty obvious to everyone that our pre-project activities had influenced our project more than we had anticipated. We found this more amusing than the class, but we knew we were in trouble.
The bell rings and our teacher asks us to stay after class. Now we are all thinking that he is going to call our parents and tell the principal. He comes over to us...and politely asks that next time we do a project, we should celebrate after the project is done instead of before. THAT WAS IT! As we were walking out the door he says,"Aren't munchies a bitch". It turns out that he had noticed cheeto cheese prints all over the board as well. So we learned a valuable lesson that day. Projects first, fun later. And that our teacher had a liking for pot as well as his whiskey.
Sorry this ended up being so long. Its not as good as ring's stories but it was definatly fun to experience.
p.s. found out later that this was top of the line bud, and I was used to the bottom of the barrel weed.
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CrimsonHaze
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:30 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
- Contact:
Hmm, I have a few of those as well angrykittie.
I remember learning that it is not good to mix vodka into the experience. And that you shouldn't lay down and hope to get back up. I was out in the woods with my friend and I always get this sensation to be as close to the floor as possible. So, I ended up on the ground in the leaves. I rolled around like a damn fish out of water and still didnt feel like I was all the way down. Gravity messes me up. So, my friend and my sister kept telling me we had to go. After all, we were just out on a 'walk'. So, they finally managed to get me on my feet, but walking wasn't that easy. We left the woods and headed down the road. Well, I felt like my feet weighed a ton each and I couldn't seem to get moving fast enough. I was seriously baked that time. I was used to the lower grade stuff as well and this kicked my ass. By the time we got home, which was nearly 2 hours after we started hitting it, I still felt like I had just finished smoking. I weaved my way to my bedroom, fortunately avoiding my mom, and laid on my bed. I stayed that way for hours. Just staring at the ceiling and feeling like I wasn't down far enough. The next day, which was thankfully not a work day, I was still feeling it. I ate anything I could find, even just slices of bread. My parents never acted like they noticed my strange behavior, but I have always wondered if one of those times they did, but just didnt say anything. I swear that parents always know something is up, but sometimes they dont bring it up. Its wierd. I guess I'll find out when I become a parent.
I remember learning that it is not good to mix vodka into the experience. And that you shouldn't lay down and hope to get back up. I was out in the woods with my friend and I always get this sensation to be as close to the floor as possible. So, I ended up on the ground in the leaves. I rolled around like a damn fish out of water and still didnt feel like I was all the way down. Gravity messes me up. So, my friend and my sister kept telling me we had to go. After all, we were just out on a 'walk'. So, they finally managed to get me on my feet, but walking wasn't that easy. We left the woods and headed down the road. Well, I felt like my feet weighed a ton each and I couldn't seem to get moving fast enough. I was seriously baked that time. I was used to the lower grade stuff as well and this kicked my ass. By the time we got home, which was nearly 2 hours after we started hitting it, I still felt like I had just finished smoking. I weaved my way to my bedroom, fortunately avoiding my mom, and laid on my bed. I stayed that way for hours. Just staring at the ceiling and feeling like I wasn't down far enough. The next day, which was thankfully not a work day, I was still feeling it. I ate anything I could find, even just slices of bread. My parents never acted like they noticed my strange behavior, but I have always wondered if one of those times they did, but just didnt say anything. I swear that parents always know something is up, but sometimes they dont bring it up. Its wierd. I guess I'll find out when I become a parent.
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
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RingO'Fire
- Posts: 978
- Joined: Mon Mar 01, 2004 3:00 am
- Location: Chattanooga
What-ev-UR! More stories please!pissedpussy25 wrote:Its not as good as ring's stories but it was definately fun to experience.
"One time, I was so stoned that..." stories are funny "Youthful Indiscretions" too. C'mon, regale us with some more.
I too have gotten so baked that I got all disoriented and puked (on this greenish black Thai bud). When my cousin, our buddy Bobby W. and I were in high school, we all went over to this older guy's house (he was probably 26-28 or so). This dude listened to JAZZ! That was wierd! We listened to all the classic rock n' roll bands: Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd, Beatles, Stones, Hendrix, Zappa, etc. JAZZ?! "What the fuck?"
Once we started burning down though, it was like, [inhaling] "(Sssspt), Hey man, this jazz stuff isn't too bad. I think I kinda like it." I got so baked on his Thai bud though, that I ended up puking out the side window of my cousin's car and getting puke all down the side of it.
I think this may have been the same night that my genius cousin went by my groundmother's house at midnight to wash the puke off the side of his car. [I know I told this story already, but I'm gonna tell it again - my cousin's stupidity still amazes me.] Grandma yelled out her back door, "Trey (my cousin's name), are y'all alright?"
Trey: "Yes, we're fine grandmother!"
Grandma: "What are y'all doin' out there?"
Trey: "Oh, Steve got sick and I'm just washing the throw up off my car."
Grandma: "Stevie's sick? Now, y'all haven't been drinking have you?"
Trey: "Oh no, grandmother. Steve's just not feeling good!"
Grandma: "OK!, but you boys be careful, hear?"
Trey: "OK grandmother! We will."
My grandma raised four Wild boys. She knew exactly what was up, but had seen stuff like this so many times with my dad and his brothers that I'm sure she figured we'd probably be alright.
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...
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CrimsonHaze
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:30 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
- Contact:
Hmm... let's see, the dumbest thing I have ever heard while stoned....
My Aunt and I were sitting in the computer/stoner room at my future uncle's house. We were working on a bowl, but this stuff was very low grade and very not-smooth. So, I told her I couldn't smoke it anymore because I couldn't stop coughing. She gets this resolute look in her eye and says "Im gonna finish this bowl dammit, with or without you!"
I grabbed her by the shoulders and said "But, (insert name here), We can finish it, there's plenty of hours left in the day!"
She gets this 'light bulb going off' look and says "Oh yeah! I forgot about that!!"
It was about 4:30 in the afternoon and the sun was shining through the window.
My Aunt and I were sitting in the computer/stoner room at my future uncle's house. We were working on a bowl, but this stuff was very low grade and very not-smooth. So, I told her I couldn't smoke it anymore because I couldn't stop coughing. She gets this resolute look in her eye and says "Im gonna finish this bowl dammit, with or without you!"
I grabbed her by the shoulders and said "But, (insert name here), We can finish it, there's plenty of hours left in the day!"
She gets this 'light bulb going off' look and says "Oh yeah! I forgot about that!!"
It was about 4:30 in the afternoon and the sun was shining through the window.
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
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CrimsonHaze
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:30 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
- Contact:
-
RingO'Fire
- Posts: 978
- Joined: Mon Mar 01, 2004 3:00 am
- Location: Chattanooga
THE TIME I KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER - PART XII - " "
Carmen had said goodbye to David for all of us in the San Diego airport, right before his flight to Houston departed. Before he had gotten on the plane, they called Mr. and Mrs. K. to let them know that David was on his way and, in hindsight, that we all thought that the whole "kidnapping for hire" thing was probably not the best idea in the world.
Mr. K felt fully justified in asking Carmen to return the five hundred bucks that he had paid us to kidnap David. We thought his request was completely ridiculous on face value and immediately made a beeline for the nearest bank. Fortunately, the check was drawn on a bank that had branches in southern California. We didn’t have any trouble getting it cashed.
David was gone. He had escaped. Although, initially, at the beginning of David’s ordeal, we had gloried in the initial triumph of our successful kidnapping, the thrill of victory had morphed overnight into the tragedy of a defeat. The living hell of having to endure his perpetual whineyness for four solid days had worn thin on all of our nerves. So, now that he was gone, I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was embarrassed at our obviously pathetic kidnapping skills. On the other hand, I was really REALLY relieved that he was gone.
Nowadays, when I think about how arrogant we were, thinking that we could forcibly take David against his will and bring him back to Tennessee with us and "make a man out of him" it’s almost ludicrous. I’m not sure exactly what long-term effects, if any, we may have had on his life, but I hope they were positive overall. Yes, it’s true, initially he was victimized and made to feel helpless, but eventually David was the victor. We had manhandled him, abducted him, busted his lip, manhandled him again and taken his meth away, forced an embarrassing confession of addiction, and extorted him into eating stuff he didn’t want to. In the end though, the victory was his. He had bested us. He had escaped.
For the rest of his life, every time he told the story of "The Time I My Father Paid My Cousin to Kidnap Me", he could gloat about having escaped from the pathetic, sorry-ass bunch of kidnappers that his father had hired, namely, the four of us! Since I don’t know any of the people that David may have told his story to, I don’t really mind if David may have been "talkin’ some shit" about me. I actually hope that David did gloat in his victory, rather than somehow feeling crushed, oppressed or beaten down in spirit. I hope that he walked away from the whole experience with his head held high, proud of his escape.
After David left us, my brother Michael decided it was time for him to go back home too. We had promised him, immediately after we had abducted him, somewhere on the road between Chattanooga and Atlanta, that if he didn’t want to stay with us once we got to California, that we would buy him a plane ticket home. Michael had made up his mind, he was ready to go home.
Fortunately, my mom agreed to buy his plane ticket. Mom was in Houston visiting her parents (my grandparents, of course) and had agreed to buy Michael a plane ticket from San Diego to Houston.
That’s right, my grandparents lived in Houston too. A few days ago, I was thinking about this story and the fact that both David and my grandparents lived in Houston. I thought, "Now why would I go to Houston and not visit my grandparents? That doesn’t make any sense! Oh wait a minute! Oh shit! That’s right! We did go visit my grandparents! All four of us went over there! (Jim, Carmen, my brother Michael, and I) And..oh no!…that’s right!…we were all stoned!" Yes, being the geniuses that we were, we all had gone over to visit my grandparents in Houston, stoned, a day or so before we kidnapped David.
Naturally, my grandparents knew that something was "different" about us. My grandpa was no fool.
Grandpa used to tell me stories of how he had been in the Army Signal Corps in the Pacific Theatre in WWII. In the war, the Army used to drop him off by submarine, in little boats at night, off the shore of islands that they were about to invade. Their job was to string communication lines at night, right under the noses of the Japanese, on these little Pacific islands that the Army was getting ready to invade. Grandpa and his group (squadron, platoon, or whatever) would be a group of 6-12 soldiers, the only Americans on an island overrun by Japanese. This was his mission, over and over again. In fact, that reminds me of a story my Grandpa told me, several different times, about how he got a steel plate in his right arm.
They had been dropped off on a little Pacific island that the Army was about to invade, the name of which escapes me. It was night. They had already strung their communication lines, and then went back to the end of the line and connected them to the telephone box to test them out. When Grandpa connected the lines to the box to test them out, they were dead, non-functional, this was no good, this was not "mission accomplished sir!"
Grandpa and one of his buddies went back started checking the wires along their full length to make sure that they were intact. As they were checking the wires, they found a place where the wire had been cut! This made them really nervous because the fact that the wire had been cut meant that the Japanese soldiers might be aware ot their presence, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. They spliced the wire and went back to the end of the line to check it. Dead again! They began tracing the length of the wire again, to check its integrity. Once again, near the place where it had been cut the first time, the wire was cut again! The Japanese (at least one of them) knew they were there. They were scared for their lives! They started to splice the wire a second time. Grandpa told me, "…about that time, this little Japanese sumbitch jumped out of the bushes, grabbed my arm, and spun around. The next thing I knew, I heard my arm go ‘crack!’ and I was laying flat on my back! I reckon that the little sumbitch would’ve killed me too, that is, if my buddy hadn’t bayoneted him. Yep, we left his ass for worm food!"
So, my Grandpa had been a bad ass in the Army. He also told me the story of how he had become an alcoholic. After the war, when he got out of the Army and started working at a steel mill in Houston (Armco Steel), he started stopping by the bar at the end of the day for a beer. Eventually, day after day, one beer became two, two became three, three became four, and so on, until he was a full-on alcoholic. His alcoholism lasted for years. He wasn’t a physically abusive drunk, but he was verbally abusive to my Grandma. Fortunately, my mom, was born in July 1941, just five months before Pearl Harbor (December 7, 1941 - "a day which will live in infamy"). Mom was old enough when Grandpa got out of the Army, started working and eventually became an alcoholic that his alcoholism didn’t affect her as much as it did her younger siblings. In fact, it was my mom who motivated Grandpa to quit drinking and join AA.
Grandpa and my mom both told me their versions of this story at different times. One day, when my mom was about 18, she and Grandma were getting ready to leave the house to go shopping. Grandpa was sitting in the living room chair where he always sat, drunk as a skunk, when he said something mean to my Grandma. Apparently, this so infuriated my mom that she began yelling at my Grandfather, "You know what? I despise you! You disgust me! You are an embarrassment to me! I can not wait to get out of this house! As soon as I can, I’m leaving and I’m never coming back!" Then she slammed the door and they left to go shopping.
When they came back from shopping, an hour or two later, Grandpa was still sitting in his chair in the exact same position where they had left him, except that he was sobbing uncontrollably. He was crying, "My own daughter hates me!" He vowed to himself that day to quit drinking, joined AA, and never touched the stuff again. He was active in AA for over 20 years, became a sponsor, and helped many other alcoholics recover from their addictions.
No, my Grandpa was no fool. When we went over to his house stoned, he knew what was up. He called my mom to tell her that he was worried that we were "drug addicts." (I was his oldest grandchild too) Since my mom had found joints in my pockets, bongs, bags of weed, etc. since I was about 16, she wasn’t all that worried by Grandpa’s report. (I already told you guys about the time I got stoned, took my eyes off the road to look for a new tape while driving, crashed my new car into a tree and got busted for possession and DUI when I was 16 too). So, all the fact that I smoked pot was old hat to her by the time I was 22. She did give me a lecture though for going over to my grandparents’ house all stoned.
Once in Houston with my mom, Michael would drive back to Tennessee with her. Michael missed Angie, his friends, and home. He was ready to go back.
Now, I must tell you that my parents were actually overjoyed and not just a little bit amused that Jim, Carmen and I had kidnapped my brother. I had kept in regular telephone contact with my mom and dad. They knew that Michael was safe and that we were taking fairly good care of him. None of us wanted him to marry Angie. If kidnapping him was what it took to stop him from entering into a disastrous marriage, then so be it.
Now at the end of our journey together as the band of merry kidnappers, we (Jim, Carmen, my mom & dad, and I) all agreed that we had done our best. We couldn’t do anything else. Now the rest was fate. It was all up in the wind. Whatever was to happen between Michael and Angie was between the two of them; we couldn’t interfere anymore.
The following day, we said goodbye to Carmen’s aunt Diane and cousin Jill, hopped into the van and drove to the airport. We all walked in together, got Michael’s ticket and walked down to the gate with him. Then we took turns hugging his neck, wished him well, and watched him walk down the jetway to his plane.
Jim, Carmen and I piled into the van with the two dogs and headed north, up the California coast toward San Francisco and more adventures.
Next...? YOU TELL ME.
Option 1. Wrap it up now and tell you what happened to Michael and Angie? OR
Option 2. Continue with the road trip adventures (there were a few more, but they're not nearly as outrageous as the kidnappings) and then tell what happens with Michael and Angie?
Stay tuned...
Carmen had said goodbye to David for all of us in the San Diego airport, right before his flight to Houston departed. Before he had gotten on the plane, they called Mr. and Mrs. K. to let them know that David was on his way and, in hindsight, that we all thought that the whole "kidnapping for hire" thing was probably not the best idea in the world.
Mr. K felt fully justified in asking Carmen to return the five hundred bucks that he had paid us to kidnap David. We thought his request was completely ridiculous on face value and immediately made a beeline for the nearest bank. Fortunately, the check was drawn on a bank that had branches in southern California. We didn’t have any trouble getting it cashed.
David was gone. He had escaped. Although, initially, at the beginning of David’s ordeal, we had gloried in the initial triumph of our successful kidnapping, the thrill of victory had morphed overnight into the tragedy of a defeat. The living hell of having to endure his perpetual whineyness for four solid days had worn thin on all of our nerves. So, now that he was gone, I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was embarrassed at our obviously pathetic kidnapping skills. On the other hand, I was really REALLY relieved that he was gone.
Nowadays, when I think about how arrogant we were, thinking that we could forcibly take David against his will and bring him back to Tennessee with us and "make a man out of him" it’s almost ludicrous. I’m not sure exactly what long-term effects, if any, we may have had on his life, but I hope they were positive overall. Yes, it’s true, initially he was victimized and made to feel helpless, but eventually David was the victor. We had manhandled him, abducted him, busted his lip, manhandled him again and taken his meth away, forced an embarrassing confession of addiction, and extorted him into eating stuff he didn’t want to. In the end though, the victory was his. He had bested us. He had escaped.
For the rest of his life, every time he told the story of "The Time I My Father Paid My Cousin to Kidnap Me", he could gloat about having escaped from the pathetic, sorry-ass bunch of kidnappers that his father had hired, namely, the four of us! Since I don’t know any of the people that David may have told his story to, I don’t really mind if David may have been "talkin’ some shit" about me. I actually hope that David did gloat in his victory, rather than somehow feeling crushed, oppressed or beaten down in spirit. I hope that he walked away from the whole experience with his head held high, proud of his escape.
After David left us, my brother Michael decided it was time for him to go back home too. We had promised him, immediately after we had abducted him, somewhere on the road between Chattanooga and Atlanta, that if he didn’t want to stay with us once we got to California, that we would buy him a plane ticket home. Michael had made up his mind, he was ready to go home.
Fortunately, my mom agreed to buy his plane ticket. Mom was in Houston visiting her parents (my grandparents, of course) and had agreed to buy Michael a plane ticket from San Diego to Houston.
That’s right, my grandparents lived in Houston too. A few days ago, I was thinking about this story and the fact that both David and my grandparents lived in Houston. I thought, "Now why would I go to Houston and not visit my grandparents? That doesn’t make any sense! Oh wait a minute! Oh shit! That’s right! We did go visit my grandparents! All four of us went over there! (Jim, Carmen, my brother Michael, and I) And..oh no!…that’s right!…we were all stoned!" Yes, being the geniuses that we were, we all had gone over to visit my grandparents in Houston, stoned, a day or so before we kidnapped David.
Naturally, my grandparents knew that something was "different" about us. My grandpa was no fool.
Grandpa used to tell me stories of how he had been in the Army Signal Corps in the Pacific Theatre in WWII. In the war, the Army used to drop him off by submarine, in little boats at night, off the shore of islands that they were about to invade. Their job was to string communication lines at night, right under the noses of the Japanese, on these little Pacific islands that the Army was getting ready to invade. Grandpa and his group (squadron, platoon, or whatever) would be a group of 6-12 soldiers, the only Americans on an island overrun by Japanese. This was his mission, over and over again. In fact, that reminds me of a story my Grandpa told me, several different times, about how he got a steel plate in his right arm.
They had been dropped off on a little Pacific island that the Army was about to invade, the name of which escapes me. It was night. They had already strung their communication lines, and then went back to the end of the line and connected them to the telephone box to test them out. When Grandpa connected the lines to the box to test them out, they were dead, non-functional, this was no good, this was not "mission accomplished sir!"
Grandpa and one of his buddies went back started checking the wires along their full length to make sure that they were intact. As they were checking the wires, they found a place where the wire had been cut! This made them really nervous because the fact that the wire had been cut meant that the Japanese soldiers might be aware ot their presence, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. They spliced the wire and went back to the end of the line to check it. Dead again! They began tracing the length of the wire again, to check its integrity. Once again, near the place where it had been cut the first time, the wire was cut again! The Japanese (at least one of them) knew they were there. They were scared for their lives! They started to splice the wire a second time. Grandpa told me, "…about that time, this little Japanese sumbitch jumped out of the bushes, grabbed my arm, and spun around. The next thing I knew, I heard my arm go ‘crack!’ and I was laying flat on my back! I reckon that the little sumbitch would’ve killed me too, that is, if my buddy hadn’t bayoneted him. Yep, we left his ass for worm food!"
So, my Grandpa had been a bad ass in the Army. He also told me the story of how he had become an alcoholic. After the war, when he got out of the Army and started working at a steel mill in Houston (Armco Steel), he started stopping by the bar at the end of the day for a beer. Eventually, day after day, one beer became two, two became three, three became four, and so on, until he was a full-on alcoholic. His alcoholism lasted for years. He wasn’t a physically abusive drunk, but he was verbally abusive to my Grandma. Fortunately, my mom, was born in July 1941, just five months before Pearl Harbor (December 7, 1941 - "a day which will live in infamy"). Mom was old enough when Grandpa got out of the Army, started working and eventually became an alcoholic that his alcoholism didn’t affect her as much as it did her younger siblings. In fact, it was my mom who motivated Grandpa to quit drinking and join AA.
Grandpa and my mom both told me their versions of this story at different times. One day, when my mom was about 18, she and Grandma were getting ready to leave the house to go shopping. Grandpa was sitting in the living room chair where he always sat, drunk as a skunk, when he said something mean to my Grandma. Apparently, this so infuriated my mom that she began yelling at my Grandfather, "You know what? I despise you! You disgust me! You are an embarrassment to me! I can not wait to get out of this house! As soon as I can, I’m leaving and I’m never coming back!" Then she slammed the door and they left to go shopping.
When they came back from shopping, an hour or two later, Grandpa was still sitting in his chair in the exact same position where they had left him, except that he was sobbing uncontrollably. He was crying, "My own daughter hates me!" He vowed to himself that day to quit drinking, joined AA, and never touched the stuff again. He was active in AA for over 20 years, became a sponsor, and helped many other alcoholics recover from their addictions.
No, my Grandpa was no fool. When we went over to his house stoned, he knew what was up. He called my mom to tell her that he was worried that we were "drug addicts." (I was his oldest grandchild too) Since my mom had found joints in my pockets, bongs, bags of weed, etc. since I was about 16, she wasn’t all that worried by Grandpa’s report. (I already told you guys about the time I got stoned, took my eyes off the road to look for a new tape while driving, crashed my new car into a tree and got busted for possession and DUI when I was 16 too). So, all the fact that I smoked pot was old hat to her by the time I was 22. She did give me a lecture though for going over to my grandparents’ house all stoned.
Once in Houston with my mom, Michael would drive back to Tennessee with her. Michael missed Angie, his friends, and home. He was ready to go back.
Now, I must tell you that my parents were actually overjoyed and not just a little bit amused that Jim, Carmen and I had kidnapped my brother. I had kept in regular telephone contact with my mom and dad. They knew that Michael was safe and that we were taking fairly good care of him. None of us wanted him to marry Angie. If kidnapping him was what it took to stop him from entering into a disastrous marriage, then so be it.
Now at the end of our journey together as the band of merry kidnappers, we (Jim, Carmen, my mom & dad, and I) all agreed that we had done our best. We couldn’t do anything else. Now the rest was fate. It was all up in the wind. Whatever was to happen between Michael and Angie was between the two of them; we couldn’t interfere anymore.
The following day, we said goodbye to Carmen’s aunt Diane and cousin Jill, hopped into the van and drove to the airport. We all walked in together, got Michael’s ticket and walked down to the gate with him. Then we took turns hugging his neck, wished him well, and watched him walk down the jetway to his plane.
Jim, Carmen and I piled into the van with the two dogs and headed north, up the California coast toward San Francisco and more adventures.
Next...? YOU TELL ME.
Option 1. Wrap it up now and tell you what happened to Michael and Angie? OR
Option 2. Continue with the road trip adventures (there were a few more, but they're not nearly as outrageous as the kidnappings) and then tell what happens with Michael and Angie?
Stay tuned...
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...
-
angrykittie25
- Posts: 113
- Joined: Tue Feb 24, 2004 2:00 pm
Okay, so here's another story, although this one has to do with my former friend Jose Cuervo.
I lived in a different town than the first story, with different friends. There was a very tight group of about seven of us. We were like family, and four of us lived together in one house, one visited constantly and the other two lived in their own house. So two of my friends were to get married, what a great thing to celebrate. So we started hatching our plans for a party. We all decided that it would be best to have a combined bachelor/bachelorette party since we all wanted to party together and there were only two girls anyway, me and the future bride. So on the Friday before the wedding we had a party (not the official party). So the guy that I was dating (without the dating title) and living with told me that he would buy me any alcohol that I wanted. So I told him to buy me tequila. He came back with two of the smaller flask-like bottles, figuring that this would be enough to get me good and sauced, so that he could have his way with me (I don't really know why I needed to be drunk), but it got me my booze. So we go out to our normal party spot which was about two miles down a dirt road that opens up into a big flat circular area. So we park, I get drunk as do everyone else. So the non-boyfriend approaches me and I shoot him down, just on principal. So the next night is the official bachelor/ette party and this time the non boyfriend brings me 1.75ml (not the big bottle but one step down) bottle of tequila. Once again we all head out to the same spot. We start a bon fire (right in the center of the dirt pit. we don't want to start a forest fire) and start drinking. Then some people show up uninvited, so I stop drinking. I tend to be protective of my friends, so drinking makes it worse and I didn't want to get into a fight. So finally they leave. At that point my friends come up to me one by one and say "hey, I've had two beers, you need to take two shots to catch up to me". So I do, then the next one comes up and tells me how many beers they have had and to take shots to catch up. I remember the first 6 or 7 shots and the next thing I know my bottle is gone.
Now there is still, three years later, a lot of debate on what I actually did while I was drunk. I cannot remember the whole night, and neither can anyone else, but I suspect that some of the boys mistook their fantasies for reality. I remember dancing in the back of the truck with a few people, a couple of the girls had their shirts off. The boys swear that I did too, I am almost positive that I didn't. I remember almost falling out of the back of the truck, but my nonboyfriend's best friend caught me. I remember an exgirlfriend of one of the boys showing up after we were all really drunk and trying to start a fight. So the girls of the group decide that we need to have a "talk" with her. At this point my arms are numb from the amount of alcohol coursing through my veins. But I figure that if she didn't know that, I might be able to bluff myself out of this fight. Me and this girl had a long running history. She is one of those loser girls that have no friends and try to force people to be her friend, or stalk them so she can say she hung out with them. So I go down to her and tell her that she needs to leave, but she's got liquid courage running through her veins. Anyway, she ends up hitting her ex boyfriend, the boys grab him and take him away to avoid more problems. At that point I am pissed, so I get up in her face and tell her, "If you keep this up and we get into a fight, you may not feel me hit you because you are drunk. But when I come find you tomorrow to finish what you start tonight, that's when you'll feel it." She quickly retreated to her car and her friend drove her away. Now I am not usually the type to act like I did. But the whole time she and her boyfriend were together she beat the crap out of him, and he stayed with her because of their son. I think he wanted to make sure she didn't hit the kid. And it didn't help that she tried the whole stalking thing on me to be my friend, and even got hired at my work so we could "hang out". I fired her shortly there after.
Back to the party. After she had sped off, one of my male friends decided it was time for me to return to the party. So he comes and throws me over his shoulder. Now, I am not a small girl. I am 6' tall and 200 lbs, he on the other hands is about the same weight (all muscle) but only about 5'5". So my head was very very close to the rocky ground and I even smacked my head on a larger rock. He was too drunk to notice and I didn't feel it anyway. So he walks up to the fire, with my ass still in the air and mentions that I have been a bad girl and that he thinks I need a spanking. I guess you could say that my friends are a bit on the different side, so instead of using their hands, my non boyfriend picks up a 6' 2x4 board and whacks me across the ass with it as hard as he possibly could. I, being the bad ass, look up and laugh at him and ask him if that's all he's got. So he gives my ass another whack, harder than the first one. Once again I laugh at him and say, "That one tickled, more please". So the whole group busts up laughing. I am finally released and we continue partying. Then I start feeling sick, so I end up puking (6 times apparently, I didn't remember) and I pass out in my car. Now I had been partying like this long enough that no matter how drunk I was, I would always get to my car and lock myself in. This night I did not realize that I had left all of my windows rolled down.
So I am passed out in the front seat of my car (sitting on my keys to prevent someone from taking a ride while I was unconscious). I could hear everything going on around me, but I couldn't move or open my eyes. So I hear one of the trucks start up, and everyone starts yelling for the guy to turn it off. I hear it start spinning donuts and I hear a girl crying saying that my nonboyfriend was going to be killed (apparently he decided to walk through the dust storm and stand in the middle while the truck roared in circles around him. I am laying there praying that he's not going to hit me. I hear a loud crash and then the truck turns off. I then hear the driver get out and start running after someone else (turned out to be a party crasher with an attitude) and then the driver saying something about beating the guy with a big stick (turned out to be an 8' long tree branch. Then all goes quiet. I hear someone talking to me but I don't quite understand them, or recognize their voice. Then I hear the voice telling someone to get my purse and pour out the rest of my booze (the whole half of a shot left). I somehow manage to try and grab the bottle away from them.
It turns out that the voice I heard was a cop. They asked me if the address that was on my id was correct, I moaned in response, someone told him that I lived with my nonboyfriend; he asked me if I was okay, I moaned again. He tried to get my friends to take me to the hospital, and then said he was going to call an ambulance because I didn't look good. Somehow my friends convinced him not to (most of us were underage). He made them put out the fire, that is why he was called in the first place, and left telling us if he ever saw us out there again he would ticket us. So the next morning I am woken up by my nonboyfriend's best friend telling me to move over. I never let anyone drive my car, but for some reason I just get out of the drivers’ seat and get in the back. I didn't even realize what had happened until we were half way home. Its 8am at this point. We all get dressed for the wedding, we all ended up wearing all black and I had fire engine red hair. I don't remember driving to the wedding, still in a daze from only getting five hours of sleep and alcohol still in my system. I of course had to wear heals and the wedding was on the grass so that was difficult. And to top it all off, my little cousin's birthday was the same day at the same park.
The funniest pics of that wedding is the ones of my group, in all black and barely moving. Then the bride tried to get me to catch the bouquet, so I ran...the other way, while still being drunk and in heels in grass. And like I said, there is still controversy over who did what at that party. Me being the mother of a 15 month old daughter, the boys like to tell me that this story will be the first one the tell my daughter when she gets older, as well as a reminder that she's going to be worse than I ever was.
I lived in a different town than the first story, with different friends. There was a very tight group of about seven of us. We were like family, and four of us lived together in one house, one visited constantly and the other two lived in their own house. So two of my friends were to get married, what a great thing to celebrate. So we started hatching our plans for a party. We all decided that it would be best to have a combined bachelor/bachelorette party since we all wanted to party together and there were only two girls anyway, me and the future bride. So on the Friday before the wedding we had a party (not the official party). So the guy that I was dating (without the dating title) and living with told me that he would buy me any alcohol that I wanted. So I told him to buy me tequila. He came back with two of the smaller flask-like bottles, figuring that this would be enough to get me good and sauced, so that he could have his way with me (I don't really know why I needed to be drunk), but it got me my booze. So we go out to our normal party spot which was about two miles down a dirt road that opens up into a big flat circular area. So we park, I get drunk as do everyone else. So the non-boyfriend approaches me and I shoot him down, just on principal. So the next night is the official bachelor/ette party and this time the non boyfriend brings me 1.75ml (not the big bottle but one step down) bottle of tequila. Once again we all head out to the same spot. We start a bon fire (right in the center of the dirt pit. we don't want to start a forest fire) and start drinking. Then some people show up uninvited, so I stop drinking. I tend to be protective of my friends, so drinking makes it worse and I didn't want to get into a fight. So finally they leave. At that point my friends come up to me one by one and say "hey, I've had two beers, you need to take two shots to catch up to me". So I do, then the next one comes up and tells me how many beers they have had and to take shots to catch up. I remember the first 6 or 7 shots and the next thing I know my bottle is gone.
Now there is still, three years later, a lot of debate on what I actually did while I was drunk. I cannot remember the whole night, and neither can anyone else, but I suspect that some of the boys mistook their fantasies for reality. I remember dancing in the back of the truck with a few people, a couple of the girls had their shirts off. The boys swear that I did too, I am almost positive that I didn't. I remember almost falling out of the back of the truck, but my nonboyfriend's best friend caught me. I remember an exgirlfriend of one of the boys showing up after we were all really drunk and trying to start a fight. So the girls of the group decide that we need to have a "talk" with her. At this point my arms are numb from the amount of alcohol coursing through my veins. But I figure that if she didn't know that, I might be able to bluff myself out of this fight. Me and this girl had a long running history. She is one of those loser girls that have no friends and try to force people to be her friend, or stalk them so she can say she hung out with them. So I go down to her and tell her that she needs to leave, but she's got liquid courage running through her veins. Anyway, she ends up hitting her ex boyfriend, the boys grab him and take him away to avoid more problems. At that point I am pissed, so I get up in her face and tell her, "If you keep this up and we get into a fight, you may not feel me hit you because you are drunk. But when I come find you tomorrow to finish what you start tonight, that's when you'll feel it." She quickly retreated to her car and her friend drove her away. Now I am not usually the type to act like I did. But the whole time she and her boyfriend were together she beat the crap out of him, and he stayed with her because of their son. I think he wanted to make sure she didn't hit the kid. And it didn't help that she tried the whole stalking thing on me to be my friend, and even got hired at my work so we could "hang out". I fired her shortly there after.
Back to the party. After she had sped off, one of my male friends decided it was time for me to return to the party. So he comes and throws me over his shoulder. Now, I am not a small girl. I am 6' tall and 200 lbs, he on the other hands is about the same weight (all muscle) but only about 5'5". So my head was very very close to the rocky ground and I even smacked my head on a larger rock. He was too drunk to notice and I didn't feel it anyway. So he walks up to the fire, with my ass still in the air and mentions that I have been a bad girl and that he thinks I need a spanking. I guess you could say that my friends are a bit on the different side, so instead of using their hands, my non boyfriend picks up a 6' 2x4 board and whacks me across the ass with it as hard as he possibly could. I, being the bad ass, look up and laugh at him and ask him if that's all he's got. So he gives my ass another whack, harder than the first one. Once again I laugh at him and say, "That one tickled, more please". So the whole group busts up laughing. I am finally released and we continue partying. Then I start feeling sick, so I end up puking (6 times apparently, I didn't remember) and I pass out in my car. Now I had been partying like this long enough that no matter how drunk I was, I would always get to my car and lock myself in. This night I did not realize that I had left all of my windows rolled down.
So I am passed out in the front seat of my car (sitting on my keys to prevent someone from taking a ride while I was unconscious). I could hear everything going on around me, but I couldn't move or open my eyes. So I hear one of the trucks start up, and everyone starts yelling for the guy to turn it off. I hear it start spinning donuts and I hear a girl crying saying that my nonboyfriend was going to be killed (apparently he decided to walk through the dust storm and stand in the middle while the truck roared in circles around him. I am laying there praying that he's not going to hit me. I hear a loud crash and then the truck turns off. I then hear the driver get out and start running after someone else (turned out to be a party crasher with an attitude) and then the driver saying something about beating the guy with a big stick (turned out to be an 8' long tree branch. Then all goes quiet. I hear someone talking to me but I don't quite understand them, or recognize their voice. Then I hear the voice telling someone to get my purse and pour out the rest of my booze (the whole half of a shot left). I somehow manage to try and grab the bottle away from them.
It turns out that the voice I heard was a cop. They asked me if the address that was on my id was correct, I moaned in response, someone told him that I lived with my nonboyfriend; he asked me if I was okay, I moaned again. He tried to get my friends to take me to the hospital, and then said he was going to call an ambulance because I didn't look good. Somehow my friends convinced him not to (most of us were underage). He made them put out the fire, that is why he was called in the first place, and left telling us if he ever saw us out there again he would ticket us. So the next morning I am woken up by my nonboyfriend's best friend telling me to move over. I never let anyone drive my car, but for some reason I just get out of the drivers’ seat and get in the back. I didn't even realize what had happened until we were half way home. Its 8am at this point. We all get dressed for the wedding, we all ended up wearing all black and I had fire engine red hair. I don't remember driving to the wedding, still in a daze from only getting five hours of sleep and alcohol still in my system. I of course had to wear heals and the wedding was on the grass so that was difficult. And to top it all off, my little cousin's birthday was the same day at the same park.
The funniest pics of that wedding is the ones of my group, in all black and barely moving. Then the bride tried to get me to catch the bouquet, so I ran...the other way, while still being drunk and in heels in grass. And like I said, there is still controversy over who did what at that party. Me being the mother of a 15 month old daughter, the boys like to tell me that this story will be the first one the tell my daughter when she gets older, as well as a reminder that she's going to be worse than I ever was.
If you want my banana
CrimsonHaze,
If you want my banana, place your cursor over the purple guy and right click. You get a pop up screen and one option is “Save as”, left click that. After that it is up to you on where you want to save it on your hard drive.
If you want my banana, place your cursor over the purple guy and right click. You get a pop up screen and one option is “Save as”, left click that. After that it is up to you on where you want to save it on your hard drive.
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Treehugr11
- Posts: 15
- Joined: Thu Apr 15, 2004 2:14 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
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Treehugr11
- Posts: 15
- Joined: Thu Apr 15, 2004 2:14 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
The hardest thing about choosing to cross the line, is knowing from that day forward you are a different kind of person than you were before.
Two young women sit at a kitchen table in the middle of the night. A bottle and a large envelope between them. CrimsonHaze breaks the silence, " It's like getting a new outfit, shoes and everything only to find out the party's been canceled." They both take another sip and there glasses are empty, still staring at the envelope Treehugr decisively stand, " I don't give a shit if he did post, fuck the contract, grab your jar of cream girl these shoes are going dancing.
Two young women sit at a kitchen table in the middle of the night. A bottle and a large envelope between them. CrimsonHaze breaks the silence, " It's like getting a new outfit, shoes and everything only to find out the party's been canceled." They both take another sip and there glasses are empty, still staring at the envelope Treehugr decisively stand, " I don't give a shit if he did post, fuck the contract, grab your jar of cream girl these shoes are going dancing.
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CrimsonHaze
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:30 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
- Contact:
Ring parks his car in the driveway and gets out. Pale Ale in hand, he was ready for a nice time at the bbq. CrimsonHaze and Treehugr welcome him and offer him some ice for his Ale. The grills are fired up and the chicken, ribs and vegetables are beginning to smell wonderful. The drinks are consumed, the food eaten and the mood gets lighter as they settle into the front room. Before Ring knows what's happening, the tube of IcyHot appears, the camera comes out and the handcuffs are clicked. Ring appears bilwildered and frightened as the fate of his testes begins. As the zipper lowers and the victims are unleased, CrimsonHaze nearly drops the IcyHot. A look of confusion crosses Treehugr's face.
A amused smile appears on Ring's face.
CrimsonHaze turns to Treehugr with a grin. "Well, this wasn't in the contract."
Tree replies, with an equal grin, "Maybe we should ask for more money, this contract seems to be a lot heavier and larger than we thought."
Ring's face one again fades into it's former terror as he realises their intent had not been wavered. Tree grabs a leg.....
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
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CrimsonHaze
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:30 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
- Contact:
PM to Calsur:
'You may be pleased to know, The Contract as been fulfilled. Though are attention was slightly swayed by the size of the job, we always finish what we start. Yet, we respectfully request an elargement of our payout. Please consider this. Im sure you will like the documentation we will deliver.
*in red ink*
CrimsonHaze Treehugr'
'You may be pleased to know, The Contract as been fulfilled. Though are attention was slightly swayed by the size of the job, we always finish what we start. Yet, we respectfully request an elargement of our payout. Please consider this. Im sure you will like the documentation we will deliver.
*in red ink*
CrimsonHaze Treehugr'
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
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RingO'Fire
- Posts: 978
- Joined: Mon Mar 01, 2004 3:00 am
- Location: Chattanooga
calsur!
You no good Son of a Bitch! I should've finished you off 14 years ago when I had the chance! You may be laughing now, but you just wait! I'm going to expose your true identity and your true character to everyone here on the eplaya! Everybody is going to find out the true story behind the "man" known here on the eplaya as "calsur!"
REVENGE WILL BE MINE!
You no good Son of a Bitch! I should've finished you off 14 years ago when I had the chance! You may be laughing now, but you just wait! I'm going to expose your true identity and your true character to everyone here on the eplaya! Everybody is going to find out the true story behind the "man" known here on the eplaya as "calsur!"
REVENGE WILL BE MINE!
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...
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RingO'Fire
- Posts: 978
- Joined: Mon Mar 01, 2004 3:00 am
- Location: Chattanooga
THE "CONTRACT" - THE BACK STORY - PART I
Apparently, my former friend and mentor, now my ruthless nemesis, calsur, has finally caught up with me after all these years. "calsur" the alias under which he operates here on the eplaya, is not the man he appears to be at all. I’m going to reveal the truth about the real man behind the "calsur" alias. First of all, he’s not really a man, well, not a "man" as far as his "plumbing" goes anymore, after the accident and the bungled surgery, but we’ll get to that part of the story soon enough. For the sake of convenience, we’ll refer to "calsur" as a "he", because that is the way I knew him the longest, as a man.
Now it seems that after nursing his grudge for lo, these past 14 years, "calsur" has finally gotten his/her revenge. Fourteen years after I turned against himmer, his agent, bearing a grudge of her own, has finally tracked me down to exact their twisted revenge. I may be the one in pain now, but it is I who will have the last laugh in the end! Let me begin by telling you a little bit about our "friend" calsur's ruthless agent, and the history of our 20-year relationship.
Twenty years ago this July, I was passing through Las Vegas with my two good friends and fellow professional kidnappers, Jim and Carmen. While in Vegas, we stayed at the apartment of Carmen’s close friend, Emily. Emily was quite a hottie and an excellent hostess. Unfortunately for me though, she also had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested in any "side action" with a guy like me, a guy who was on "the other side of the law." When I asked if she had any girlfriends that she might be able to hook me up with, Emily, the hostess with the mostess, said, "I think I know just the girl who’d be perfect for you. She’s a little young and a little wild, but I think you two would get along just fine. I’ll call her and see if I can set up a date."
This was totally sweet! Emily called her local Vegas girlfriend, a girl named Kim who had just graduated from high school, and asked if she’d be interested in meeting us, and even more specifically, if she’d be interested in meeting me. Kim said "sure!", since she didn’t have anything going on that night, she’d love to come out and meet us, as long as we were buying the alcohol. I was totally psyched about meeting Kim the young & wild cute little Vegas hottie.
Kim agreed to meet us over at Emily’s apartment around 8:00 pm. We planned on going "out on the town" for a night of drinking, gambling, and I hoped, a little "hanky panky" at the end of the evening. Shortly, Kim showed up on Emily’s doorstep, and when Emily opened the door and I saw Kim standing there, my mouth practically fell open. Kim was one smokin’ hot senorita, with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and tight little hottie body.
I immediately decided I would have to put on my best "game" if I was going to have a chance of scoring with this hot little number. I confidently, but nonchalantly introduced myself. She smiled, looked into my eyes for a couple of seconds, and then looked down, almost demurely. We were definitely going to have a great time together this night!
So, we all piled into the VW van and headed out for a night of adventure and, if we were lucky, drunken debauchery (or so I hoped). The first landing on our night flight had to be, of course, none other than the one and only Caesar’s Palace. I could hardly wait to see the giant fountains in front of Caesar’s, the fountains made famous by Evel Kneivel. Ah yes, Evel Kneivel the motorcycle-jumping daredevil! The very same daredevil sensation of the ‘70’s generation had jumped over those very same Caesar’s fountains! Who could ever forget that day? The day when Evel raced toward the motorcycle ramp, lept from the ramp like an eagle taking flight, glided through the air over the fountains so gracefully, only seconds before breaking half the bones in his body by slamming down on the landing ramp beside, instead of on, his cycle and then cartwheeling down the ramp like a meat puppet flung aside by some angry giant hand. Good ol’ Evel was no doubt well paid for this stunt, but the wear and on the old "bag o’ bones" hardly seems worth the payday to me. I guess that’s why I’m not a motorcycle jumping daredevil stuntman! Alas, but I digress…
We hopped up on moving walkway at Caesar’s, a walkway that was so convenient that it actually conveyed you right from the sidewalk out on the Las Vegas Strip smack-dab into the middle of Caesar’s casino! By golly, this was convenience if I’ve ever seen it! The five of us, Jim, Carmen, Emily, Kim and I immediately started our gambling and drinking spree. Kim and I were totally flirting with and digging each other.
We tried our luck at a few hands of blackjack, but quickly realized that playing cards by intuition was a really fast way to lose money. We tried feeding some coins into the slot machines, but for all the money we pumped into them, we seemed to get little money back out, I guess they don’t call them "one-armed bandits" for nothing. Eventually, we settled down in front of the nickel slots, since this seemed like a slower way to lose money and still get "free" drinks. I made sure to tip the waitress well so she’d "keep ‘em coming." Fortunately for us, our waitress didn’t bother checking Kim’s ID, or she would have seen that Kim was just 18 years old! I was busting on Kim all night, making up stuff to tease her about: her "big" hair, her "giant" feet, her "uneven, misshapen lopsided" boobs. She was totally eating it up.
After a few hours of gambling, drinking, and stumbling through and around the casinos all up and down the Las Vegas Strip, we headed the party wagon over toward the Las Vegas Hilton to see if we could get into their swimming pool. After parking the van, we made our way over to the elevator and took it up to the pool on the second floor. Jim tried the gate around the pool, and "sweet!" it was unlocked. At this time, it was about two o’clock in the morning, of course there was no one swimming in the pool. We all immediately stripped off our clothes and dove into the pool. Naturally, I couldn’t help myself, I had to check out Kim’s hot little bod as she got undressed; this girl was totally smokin’! She gave me a cute little smirk as she stripped off her bra, her facial expression said it all, "yeah, I know I’m hot; I know you want me; and if you keep playing your cards right, you might just get me!"
We all splashed around, laughing, giggling having a great time. I decided it was time to "make my move." I swam up to Kim, wrapped my arms around her and pressed my chest into hers. As I looked deep into her eyes, I knew this girl was ready to be kissed. I leaned in and our lips locked together in a passionate kiss. I felt my throbbing manhood spring to life. We kept on kissing in the pool, oblivious to the rest of the world around us.
Suddenly, we were shocked out of our mutual tonsil massage by the voice of the Hilton’s security guard! He said, rather nonchalantly, like he saw naked people in the pool everyday, "Hey folks! The pools closed. Y’all need to get your clothes on and take the party somewhere else." We were happy that he wasn’t yelling at us or threatening to call the cops, so we eagerly replied, "Hey, no problem! We’ll be out of here in just a few minutes." I kissed Kim one last time before we hopped out of the pool and got dressed.
"Take the party somewhere else" is exactly what we did too. Jim, Carmen and Emily were all ready to head back to Emily’s place to crash out, but Kim and I were just getting started. Once we got back to Emily’s apartment building, Kim asked me, "So, do ya wanna come over to my place for a while?" I casually replied, in my best smirking James Bond imitation, "You need to relax and chill out! Just because I kissed you in the pool doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you!" She punched me in the arm and said, "Oh no you don’t mister! Get over here and kiss me!"
Kim drove us over to her place, and...well, one thing led to another, and we ended up spending a night of wild passion wrestling between the sheets over at Kim’s apartment. It was a night of pure ecstasy for both of us.
The next two days and nights are a blur of alcohol, sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll! We were inseparable the next two days. Kim and I pledged our love for each other and promised to stay in touch, but you all know how those things go. Two thousand miles is an awfully long distance between two people. Time, not to mention all the drugs and alcohol, has a way of dulling one’s memory.
I do have one vague memory of my last night together with Kim in Las Vegas though. Near the end of our last night together, I vaguely remember saying something about "wanting to see the church where people get married by Elvis!" I’m not sure of the name of the place, but it definitely wasn’t a "church." Kim must have known the chapel that I was talking about though, because the next thing I remember about that night was struggling to stay standing in front of "the King." I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of Elvis, even though my head was swimming from all the ecstasy, mixed drinks, and pot. I kinda blacked out for a while, but I do remember saying something like "so long, King! I’m leavin’ the buildin’ now!" as I stumbled out the door, leaning on Kim’s shoulder.
The next thing I knew, it was daylight outside when I woke up over at Kim’s place. I thought, "Oh shit! We’re supposed to leave today! Jim’s going to be really pissed!" I quietly slipped out of bed while Kim was still sleeping soundly, my head throbbing from the excesses of the previous night. As I shuffled into the bathroom to relieve the pressure in my bladder, my poor "manhood" was so sore, it felt like it had been run through a clothes wringer! I smiled through the pain.
I tip toed into Kim’s living room, pulled Emily’s number out of my wallet, picked the beep-beep-beeping phone up off the floor and placed it back in the cradle, before I picked it up again and dialed Emily’s number. Emily answered and put Jim on the line; whispering into the phone, I told Jim where I was (as if he didn’t know already) and asked him to come get me so we could leave town. Jim was pissed that we were getting out of town so late in the day, "in the desert in Vegas in July in a vehicle with an air-cooled engine!" I told him I’d meet him out in front of Kim's apartment in 15 minutes!
Not really thinking straight from all the fog in my head, I quickly scribbled a note to Kim about what a "wonderful time I’ve had the past few days. It’s been great getting to know you and spending time with you blah blah blah." I put the note on the empty pillow next to the sleeping Kim, leaned over and gave her one last kiss on the cheek, grabbed my shoes, and shut the door behind me as I let myself out.
Jim and Carmen pulled up after a few minutes. They gave me a lecture for causing us to have to travel in the heat of the day in the desert, but I didn’t care. Even thought I was sweating like a hog and my head was throbbing, I had a smile on my face that just wouldn’t quit.
I’ve thought about Kim every now and then over the past 20 years. I occassionally wondered what became of her. I must admit though, I never bothered trying to contact her. I just figured that we were just "two ships passing in the night" who had enjoyed a passing fling together. I never thought that much about the three nights of passion and drunken debauchery we’d shared or about going to see "the King."
Little did I realize though, that Kim didn’t see things my way at all. To Kim, this had been serious business. In fact, Kim has spent the past 20 years, nursing a grudge against me, trying to track me down! Guess what? This past Saturday night, she found me! I'm afraid my balls will never be the same!
Next chapter, the "man" behind the "calsur" alias!
Stay tuned.
Apparently, my former friend and mentor, now my ruthless nemesis, calsur, has finally caught up with me after all these years. "calsur" the alias under which he operates here on the eplaya, is not the man he appears to be at all. I’m going to reveal the truth about the real man behind the "calsur" alias. First of all, he’s not really a man, well, not a "man" as far as his "plumbing" goes anymore, after the accident and the bungled surgery, but we’ll get to that part of the story soon enough. For the sake of convenience, we’ll refer to "calsur" as a "he", because that is the way I knew him the longest, as a man.
Now it seems that after nursing his grudge for lo, these past 14 years, "calsur" has finally gotten his/her revenge. Fourteen years after I turned against himmer, his agent, bearing a grudge of her own, has finally tracked me down to exact their twisted revenge. I may be the one in pain now, but it is I who will have the last laugh in the end! Let me begin by telling you a little bit about our "friend" calsur's ruthless agent, and the history of our 20-year relationship.
Twenty years ago this July, I was passing through Las Vegas with my two good friends and fellow professional kidnappers, Jim and Carmen. While in Vegas, we stayed at the apartment of Carmen’s close friend, Emily. Emily was quite a hottie and an excellent hostess. Unfortunately for me though, she also had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested in any "side action" with a guy like me, a guy who was on "the other side of the law." When I asked if she had any girlfriends that she might be able to hook me up with, Emily, the hostess with the mostess, said, "I think I know just the girl who’d be perfect for you. She’s a little young and a little wild, but I think you two would get along just fine. I’ll call her and see if I can set up a date."
This was totally sweet! Emily called her local Vegas girlfriend, a girl named Kim who had just graduated from high school, and asked if she’d be interested in meeting us, and even more specifically, if she’d be interested in meeting me. Kim said "sure!", since she didn’t have anything going on that night, she’d love to come out and meet us, as long as we were buying the alcohol. I was totally psyched about meeting Kim the young & wild cute little Vegas hottie.
Kim agreed to meet us over at Emily’s apartment around 8:00 pm. We planned on going "out on the town" for a night of drinking, gambling, and I hoped, a little "hanky panky" at the end of the evening. Shortly, Kim showed up on Emily’s doorstep, and when Emily opened the door and I saw Kim standing there, my mouth practically fell open. Kim was one smokin’ hot senorita, with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and tight little hottie body.
I immediately decided I would have to put on my best "game" if I was going to have a chance of scoring with this hot little number. I confidently, but nonchalantly introduced myself. She smiled, looked into my eyes for a couple of seconds, and then looked down, almost demurely. We were definitely going to have a great time together this night!
So, we all piled into the VW van and headed out for a night of adventure and, if we were lucky, drunken debauchery (or so I hoped). The first landing on our night flight had to be, of course, none other than the one and only Caesar’s Palace. I could hardly wait to see the giant fountains in front of Caesar’s, the fountains made famous by Evel Kneivel. Ah yes, Evel Kneivel the motorcycle-jumping daredevil! The very same daredevil sensation of the ‘70’s generation had jumped over those very same Caesar’s fountains! Who could ever forget that day? The day when Evel raced toward the motorcycle ramp, lept from the ramp like an eagle taking flight, glided through the air over the fountains so gracefully, only seconds before breaking half the bones in his body by slamming down on the landing ramp beside, instead of on, his cycle and then cartwheeling down the ramp like a meat puppet flung aside by some angry giant hand. Good ol’ Evel was no doubt well paid for this stunt, but the wear and on the old "bag o’ bones" hardly seems worth the payday to me. I guess that’s why I’m not a motorcycle jumping daredevil stuntman! Alas, but I digress…
We hopped up on moving walkway at Caesar’s, a walkway that was so convenient that it actually conveyed you right from the sidewalk out on the Las Vegas Strip smack-dab into the middle of Caesar’s casino! By golly, this was convenience if I’ve ever seen it! The five of us, Jim, Carmen, Emily, Kim and I immediately started our gambling and drinking spree. Kim and I were totally flirting with and digging each other.
We tried our luck at a few hands of blackjack, but quickly realized that playing cards by intuition was a really fast way to lose money. We tried feeding some coins into the slot machines, but for all the money we pumped into them, we seemed to get little money back out, I guess they don’t call them "one-armed bandits" for nothing. Eventually, we settled down in front of the nickel slots, since this seemed like a slower way to lose money and still get "free" drinks. I made sure to tip the waitress well so she’d "keep ‘em coming." Fortunately for us, our waitress didn’t bother checking Kim’s ID, or she would have seen that Kim was just 18 years old! I was busting on Kim all night, making up stuff to tease her about: her "big" hair, her "giant" feet, her "uneven, misshapen lopsided" boobs. She was totally eating it up.
After a few hours of gambling, drinking, and stumbling through and around the casinos all up and down the Las Vegas Strip, we headed the party wagon over toward the Las Vegas Hilton to see if we could get into their swimming pool. After parking the van, we made our way over to the elevator and took it up to the pool on the second floor. Jim tried the gate around the pool, and "sweet!" it was unlocked. At this time, it was about two o’clock in the morning, of course there was no one swimming in the pool. We all immediately stripped off our clothes and dove into the pool. Naturally, I couldn’t help myself, I had to check out Kim’s hot little bod as she got undressed; this girl was totally smokin’! She gave me a cute little smirk as she stripped off her bra, her facial expression said it all, "yeah, I know I’m hot; I know you want me; and if you keep playing your cards right, you might just get me!"
We all splashed around, laughing, giggling having a great time. I decided it was time to "make my move." I swam up to Kim, wrapped my arms around her and pressed my chest into hers. As I looked deep into her eyes, I knew this girl was ready to be kissed. I leaned in and our lips locked together in a passionate kiss. I felt my throbbing manhood spring to life. We kept on kissing in the pool, oblivious to the rest of the world around us.
Suddenly, we were shocked out of our mutual tonsil massage by the voice of the Hilton’s security guard! He said, rather nonchalantly, like he saw naked people in the pool everyday, "Hey folks! The pools closed. Y’all need to get your clothes on and take the party somewhere else." We were happy that he wasn’t yelling at us or threatening to call the cops, so we eagerly replied, "Hey, no problem! We’ll be out of here in just a few minutes." I kissed Kim one last time before we hopped out of the pool and got dressed.
"Take the party somewhere else" is exactly what we did too. Jim, Carmen and Emily were all ready to head back to Emily’s place to crash out, but Kim and I were just getting started. Once we got back to Emily’s apartment building, Kim asked me, "So, do ya wanna come over to my place for a while?" I casually replied, in my best smirking James Bond imitation, "You need to relax and chill out! Just because I kissed you in the pool doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you!" She punched me in the arm and said, "Oh no you don’t mister! Get over here and kiss me!"
Kim drove us over to her place, and...well, one thing led to another, and we ended up spending a night of wild passion wrestling between the sheets over at Kim’s apartment. It was a night of pure ecstasy for both of us.
The next two days and nights are a blur of alcohol, sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll! We were inseparable the next two days. Kim and I pledged our love for each other and promised to stay in touch, but you all know how those things go. Two thousand miles is an awfully long distance between two people. Time, not to mention all the drugs and alcohol, has a way of dulling one’s memory.
I do have one vague memory of my last night together with Kim in Las Vegas though. Near the end of our last night together, I vaguely remember saying something about "wanting to see the church where people get married by Elvis!" I’m not sure of the name of the place, but it definitely wasn’t a "church." Kim must have known the chapel that I was talking about though, because the next thing I remember about that night was struggling to stay standing in front of "the King." I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of Elvis, even though my head was swimming from all the ecstasy, mixed drinks, and pot. I kinda blacked out for a while, but I do remember saying something like "so long, King! I’m leavin’ the buildin’ now!" as I stumbled out the door, leaning on Kim’s shoulder.
The next thing I knew, it was daylight outside when I woke up over at Kim’s place. I thought, "Oh shit! We’re supposed to leave today! Jim’s going to be really pissed!" I quietly slipped out of bed while Kim was still sleeping soundly, my head throbbing from the excesses of the previous night. As I shuffled into the bathroom to relieve the pressure in my bladder, my poor "manhood" was so sore, it felt like it had been run through a clothes wringer! I smiled through the pain.
I tip toed into Kim’s living room, pulled Emily’s number out of my wallet, picked the beep-beep-beeping phone up off the floor and placed it back in the cradle, before I picked it up again and dialed Emily’s number. Emily answered and put Jim on the line; whispering into the phone, I told Jim where I was (as if he didn’t know already) and asked him to come get me so we could leave town. Jim was pissed that we were getting out of town so late in the day, "in the desert in Vegas in July in a vehicle with an air-cooled engine!" I told him I’d meet him out in front of Kim's apartment in 15 minutes!
Not really thinking straight from all the fog in my head, I quickly scribbled a note to Kim about what a "wonderful time I’ve had the past few days. It’s been great getting to know you and spending time with you blah blah blah." I put the note on the empty pillow next to the sleeping Kim, leaned over and gave her one last kiss on the cheek, grabbed my shoes, and shut the door behind me as I let myself out.
Jim and Carmen pulled up after a few minutes. They gave me a lecture for causing us to have to travel in the heat of the day in the desert, but I didn’t care. Even thought I was sweating like a hog and my head was throbbing, I had a smile on my face that just wouldn’t quit.
I’ve thought about Kim every now and then over the past 20 years. I occassionally wondered what became of her. I must admit though, I never bothered trying to contact her. I just figured that we were just "two ships passing in the night" who had enjoyed a passing fling together. I never thought that much about the three nights of passion and drunken debauchery we’d shared or about going to see "the King."
Little did I realize though, that Kim didn’t see things my way at all. To Kim, this had been serious business. In fact, Kim has spent the past 20 years, nursing a grudge against me, trying to track me down! Guess what? This past Saturday night, she found me! I'm afraid my balls will never be the same!
Next chapter, the "man" behind the "calsur" alias!
Stay tuned.
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...
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Treehugr11
- Posts: 15
- Joined: Thu Apr 15, 2004 2:14 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
Do you dare run from me?....
Standing on the veranda, the full moon hung in the air as if it were a pendulum beckoning it's next victum,
she stared transfixed, hypnotized by it's incandescence, it succumbed her back to her memories.
She remembered the night she met him, so full of life, red flaming hair, a smile that would melt butta. The energy
that connected them surely could not be broken....He promised her the world, he promised he would love her forever.
He married her in a ceremony that even included an unforgettable night in the desert. What a lovely night of
unabashed love and uninhibited lovemaking....The flames of love were warmer than the fire...
The moment was broken. The memory of waking up without him invaded her soul once again. The tears
flowed but for a moment. Anger and vengence stole her heart once again. She knew who to contact. Her
brother Hunter Trace was in the FBI. Siblings could be no closer. He would help her close this gap in her
heart.....
she stared transfixed, hypnotized by it's incandescence, it succumbed her back to her memories.
She remembered the night she met him, so full of life, red flaming hair, a smile that would melt butta. The energy
that connected them surely could not be broken....He promised her the world, he promised he would love her forever.
He married her in a ceremony that even included an unforgettable night in the desert. What a lovely night of
unabashed love and uninhibited lovemaking....The flames of love were warmer than the fire...
The moment was broken. The memory of waking up without him invaded her soul once again. The tears
flowed but for a moment. Anger and vengence stole her heart once again. She knew who to contact. Her
brother Hunter Trace was in the FBI. Siblings could be no closer. He would help her close this gap in her
heart.....
Look for the trees first....Then put on the windshield wipers...and get a clean look....
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CrimsonHaze
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:30 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
- Contact:
CrimsonHaze slid the pin into the lock and worked it around till she was rewarded with a click. She replaced it in the seam of her shirt and slowly eased the door open. She crept through the dark house and began opening doors. A room covered in Tie-Dye caught her eye. Checking that all was still quiet, she slipped inside.
She pulled out a miniature flashlight and began opening drawers. She stopped at Ring's underwear drawer. She saw a small pink strap sticking out from under the pile of misc. boxers. She picked at the article with gloved hand and produced a pair of pink panties. Not normal panties, but a pair of neon pink, crotchless panties. She replaced them and moved on, her expression amused and bewildered. She entered the closet and began looking behind the khakis and button up shirts. She halted as she found a bundle of leather and chain at the very back of the closet. She paused to listen for sounds, then picked up the bundle. She unfolded it on the bed and stiffled a laugh. This is ridiculous...
What she unfolded was a leather bondage suit. Chains crisscrossed the front and legs. There were holes where the nipples would be. She sat down and barely contained the laughter wanting to bubble out of her. What is all this??
She put the suit back into the closet and continued her search. There were jars of blacklight paint under the bathroom sink. She didnt take much ntoice of these. She went back into the room and found a blacklight fixture hidden behind a Tie-Dye tapestry.
Tires kicked up gravel as a silver car decended the long driveway....
CrimsonHaze froze and listened. Someone was home. She dove under the bed and inched her way to the wall. Only...she was stopped by something jabbing her in the back....
She pulled out a miniature flashlight and began opening drawers. She stopped at Ring's underwear drawer. She saw a small pink strap sticking out from under the pile of misc. boxers. She picked at the article with gloved hand and produced a pair of pink panties. Not normal panties, but a pair of neon pink, crotchless panties. She replaced them and moved on, her expression amused and bewildered. She entered the closet and began looking behind the khakis and button up shirts. She halted as she found a bundle of leather and chain at the very back of the closet. She paused to listen for sounds, then picked up the bundle. She unfolded it on the bed and stiffled a laugh. This is ridiculous...
What she unfolded was a leather bondage suit. Chains crisscrossed the front and legs. There were holes where the nipples would be. She sat down and barely contained the laughter wanting to bubble out of her. What is all this??
She put the suit back into the closet and continued her search. There were jars of blacklight paint under the bathroom sink. She didnt take much ntoice of these. She went back into the room and found a blacklight fixture hidden behind a Tie-Dye tapestry.
Tires kicked up gravel as a silver car decended the long driveway....
CrimsonHaze froze and listened. Someone was home. She dove under the bed and inched her way to the wall. Only...she was stopped by something jabbing her in the back....
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
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tonka
- Posts: 45
- Joined: Mon Feb 09, 2004 6:08 pm
- Location: south of CowTown but still way above the burn...
i know this thread has wandered and im not gonna interrupt that cause its doin good, but i have a youthful indescretion i'd like to add about a couple of my friends who liked to imitate the imfamous jackass...
"when i was a kid..." or rather when my friends were young and stupid...
they decided it would be a great idea to gravel surf the back of a pick up... they thought it was a good idea to use a snow shovel, a nice metal one that one of the guys owned. so they tied the shovel real good to the bback of this pick up truck, and get this, thier safety precaution was to duct tape the guy riding it to the shovel. now the spot he decided to surf was in a residencial area in calgary. the street, after a bit of going straight, turns a 90' angle. on the outside of this there is a 10" high fence, then a steep grassy hill, finishing off with a fence at the imediate bottom. so there going around this corner doing about 45 km/h and the shovel comes loose... and the guy attatched to it. he goes crashing down the hill and hits the fence at the bottom.... sits up after unravelling himself from the duct tape... gives the universal sign for "im still alive" [2 thumbs up] then tells his friends after they run down the hill after him hes a complete idiot.
he goes to the hospital for a giant shovel slice to the thigh and a broken wrist.
the next week it snows and they decide they can adapt they're revious attempt and use a snowboard and a tow rope.... no duct tape harness
"when i was a kid..." or rather when my friends were young and stupid...
they decided it would be a great idea to gravel surf the back of a pick up... they thought it was a good idea to use a snow shovel, a nice metal one that one of the guys owned. so they tied the shovel real good to the bback of this pick up truck, and get this, thier safety precaution was to duct tape the guy riding it to the shovel. now the spot he decided to surf was in a residencial area in calgary. the street, after a bit of going straight, turns a 90' angle. on the outside of this there is a 10" high fence, then a steep grassy hill, finishing off with a fence at the imediate bottom. so there going around this corner doing about 45 km/h and the shovel comes loose... and the guy attatched to it. he goes crashing down the hill and hits the fence at the bottom.... sits up after unravelling himself from the duct tape... gives the universal sign for "im still alive" [2 thumbs up] then tells his friends after they run down the hill after him hes a complete idiot.
he goes to the hospital for a giant shovel slice to the thigh and a broken wrist.
the next week it snows and they decide they can adapt they're revious attempt and use a snowboard and a tow rope.... no duct tape harness
[size=75]baring your soul kinda feels like taking off a PVC catsuit after dancing in it all night at a techno rave party...[/size]
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CrimsonHaze
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:30 pm
- Location: Chattanooga, TN
- Contact:
Yeah, the thread has really wandered and we (Ring, Tree and I) thought about starting another for our background story. But Heck, this all started with a 'Youthful Indescretion' about IcyHot.
I really hope you all enjoy this story we have been conducting. And look for the links to the pictures!
I really hope you all enjoy this story we have been conducting. And look for the links to the pictures!
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)
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DVD Burner
- Posts: 11031
- Joined: Fri Dec 12, 2003 3:09 am
- Burning Since: 1986
- Camp Name: White Trash Camp
- Contact:
DVD Burner wrote:CrimsonHaze wrote:Yeah, the thread has really wandered and we (Ring, Tree and I) thought about starting another for our background story. But Heck, this all started with a 'Youthful Indescretion' about IcyHot.
I really hope you all enjoy this story we have been conducting. And look for the links to the pictures!Last Real Burner wrote:spanky wrote:(This thread has gone WAY off topic at this point
You are a Nubew around these parts, aren't you. Thread Drift comes with the territory. It's the glue that keeps this place sliding around.
orotundly,
mr smith
https://www.facebook.com/NeXTCODER
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DVD Burner
- Posts: 11031
- Joined: Fri Dec 12, 2003 3:09 am
- Burning Since: 1986
- Camp Name: White Trash Camp
- Contact:
