Upon arrival we started out slamming beers and introducing me to his place. We started the evening out with beers before we headed to the bars. The night was turning out quite uneventful. Every bar we went to was dead. Even though it was a Friday night, I expected a little more. I had an old roommate from Tahlequah that was living in Stillwater now so with nothing else exciting happening, I decided to call him. 

Now Gerbil was newly married and I hadn’t seen them since they lived in Tahlequah, so this was going to almost be like a reunion. When we arrived it was Gerbil, his wife, and 2 girls that they worked with, both of which were attractive. Stink and I were all grins. The night was calm with us playing drinking games, exchanging stories and drinking heavier. I stepped outside with one of the girls “cowgirl” where we started kissing a little. One thing lead to another and I was headed back to the 2 girls house. As we arrived back at their house when problem number one surfaced. These two girls explained how they just got this house, there was not too much furniture on the inside; if it were possible to get inside…

Cowgirl, “Oh damn, we’re locked out.. Is there anyway you can get in?”

The home had bay windows in the front and windows wrapping all the way around surrounded by a small rock garden. I went walking window to window looking for a window that was unlocked. I checked each one moving closer to the back yard. Almost to the backyard “Cowgirl” yelled at me.

“Come up here, all the windows are locked”.

“What do you want me to do then?”

She looked at me in all seriousness and firmly said, “break in”.

I’m not a criminal, I don’t know how to card a door, pick a lock or pull a garage door off a track. She said 2 words and those words allowed me to use any resources available to gain access to the property.

I picked up the biggest rock and threw it as hard as I could through a baywindow. One of those moments where you have the opportunity to stop, reevaluate the situation and take the higher rode that will lead to the best decision. I dropped it in fourth, popped the clutch and trenched the situation. And just when things couldn’t get worse…

I broke the rest of the glass around the window to be a gentlemen so Cowgirl wouldn’t cut herself climbing in. I pushed the broken glass to the corner and we proceeded to the back room. Now remember that there was nothing in the house so we used a mexican poncho on the wall as a blanket. After this moment things got pretty blurry but what happened the other morning will never leave my memory.

I’m awaken bright and early to Cowgirl.

“Quick! Hide! My roommates mom is here!”

I’m fuzzy headed still trying to gather where I’m at, where to hide, and where all of my clothes were.

I get up and hop in the bathroom quickly. As I sit naked on the corner of the tub, I decide to use the restroom…

You can already see where this is going…

“Ok! Ok! I’m just going to go tinkle” came from the other side of the door. The door opened.

I’m standing there naked using the restroom.

“Oh gosh no”.

I can hear her gasp.

I turned and did the only reasonable thing in this situation.

“Ohhh hiiii…..”

She slammed the door and I could hear her and her daughter fighting in the living room. I could only stand there and wait.

The front door finally slammed as I could distinctly remember hearing more glass fall to the ground.

After all was said and done, I guess the roommate told her mom that they caught someone trying to break into the house and that’s how the window was broken. I cannot see how she bought that being that both of these girls couldn’t weigh over 110 lbs. a piece.  And the only thing in the house was a mexican poncho and a sombrero. They probably coud have fiesta’d the perps to death…

Dating back to when I was a freshman it was the spring semester and I had just recently joined a fraternity.  Not really something I wanted to do but hey it got me out of the dorms.  Well the second weekend I was in the house somebody was throwing a party in the Jefferson Commons apartment complex.  Anyone who has ever lived in Stillwater knows about the wild partying and crazy orgy-fest that go on at that complex.  Well we are partying at this place and it was a gangster theme party because my good friends’ dad owned a drive thru liquor store and was selling us cases of MGD 40s for only 12 bucks apiece.  A hell of a deal for a poor college student.  Well after me and a guy named Eric and a girl named crazy bitch decided that party sucked so we were going to another party. 

As we pull around a corner in the neighborhood this party was taking place in we see a cop so Eric turns the corner and tries to outrun the cop and we pull into a friend named Paul’s house.  The cop lights us up and pulls us over in the driveway.  Crazy Bitch throws her open 40 in the back seat with me.  Cop comes up and smells alcohol and makes Eric get out.  Crazy Bitch gets out and the let her call a friends, which came and picked her up whom by the way, was pilled out. 

I get asked to get out of the car and they drill me with questions while Eric looks on thru the window of the back seat of the cop car with hand cuffs on.  They searched the car and found 3 12 packs of 40s and made me personally empty ever single bottle.  Then they arrest me and take me to jail for public intox.  A fucking PI for drinking 1 40 and crazy bitch had a pill head come pick her up and she was fucked up.  I wasn’t even drunk yet. 

Fast forward to the next day.  I get out and they hand me all my stuff and make me pay a fee saying since this was a first offense I wouldn’t be charged but I had to pay 85 dollars to charity.  Fine whatever, “who do I make the check out to?”  

Well later that night since it was MLK weekend we had another party at a house about 6 blocks from the fraternity house.  I got pretty loaded this night.  I think I weighed every bit of 130 pounds as a freshman and I drank the better half of a 24 pack I was splitting with a friend.  By better half I think he only had 8.  So after I started swaying and felt like I needed to go home and sleep it off.  Walking seemed like the safest and most logical mans of transportation considering the state I was in and m run in the night before.   Whoo Whoo.  Police sirens and lights pulling me over.  The Cop, ” hey son it looks like you had trouble walking across that street there?” No officer I am fine I live right there in the fraternity house.  The Cop, “follow my pen.  Okay now say abcs frontwards and backwards.  You’re under arrest for Public Intox.  Fuck again.  But I only live right there.  It’s only 100 feet away to the property line.  Come on give me a fucking break. 

So I went to jail. Again.  This time they stuck me in a cell that was completely cement and would only allow me to have one shirt, my jeans and socks.  The room was about 50 degrees and it was January.  I was cold.   I asked them for toilet paper saying I had to shit but they wouldn’t give it to me.  I really only wanted it so I could wrap myself around it like a mummy to stay warm but they explained to me that I could use it to clog the sink/toilet and drown myself.  I tried to sleep only to be awoken by the guard. 

The Guard, “hey you want some eggs?  We stick them in the microwave oven heat em up and you eat em.  You want sum?” 

Me.  No thanks I’ll sleep. 

The next morning I got transferred to county.  I got in the car in cuffs sitting next to this black guy.  He asked me, “what they got u in here for n*&&@?” 

Ah man I got a PI. 

The guy, “Man they got me in here for firearms and possession of paraphernalia and weed and on warrants.” 

That sucks man. 

So in the car on the way to county lock up a Nelly song came on and the cop turned it up. The Black guy, “man u likes this song.  It’s bunk.” 

The cop, “man I just want to hear that song Air Force Ones.” 

The black guy, “man u know u can get ya sum of them Air force ones at WALLS for like $20 bucks.” 

The Cop, “Oh really that’s cool man.  I don’t know about the shoes I just like the song dawg.” He actually called this drug-dealing gun toting gangster “dawg”.  I was appalled. 

So anyways we get to the stations and I am getting strip-searched.  They make me lift up my sack and spread my cheeks and the black guy says, “Ah man I’m black I don’t need to do this shit.” In my mind I am thinking,”Man you were caught with several possession charges and I am in for being drunk.  You don’t think they need to check your ass for crack.” I pictured in my mind him digging a rock out with a comb when he got in his cell. 
 

Well shortly after that they released me and told me to call a ride.  I told them I didn’t have any numbers and would just walk.  They gave me my belongings minus my shoes.  They asked what color they were and I said white and they showed me some Jordan’s or something.  I said no I just have some ADIDAS tennis shoes. 

Low and behold they left them at city so I had to ride with a cop again to city to pick up my shoes.  He said he would drop me off at home and I told him I didn’t want people there to know because I thought I might get in trouble with the frat.  So he dropped me off at the fire department and I walked over a mile to get home.  What bullshit. 

When we wrote back and forth she would always ask the typical questions like, “what did you do over the weekend”, “what are your plans this week” and “come over and watch me try on my new lingerie”…

Ok I made up the first two.

Anyways I was telling her about a weekend that I ate at Red Lobster, the seafood place.

“I was at Red Lobster this weekend and my waitress obviously had a fake leg because she walked like a pirate. The food was a high C; low B at the best but I give the character authenticity an A+”.

If I were a girl I’d sure date me.

 ”But Phishr, my girl dances and she makes more money than god”.

So?! I could give the best fellatio to truckers and bring home millions but still cry myself to sleep trying to repress the actuality that I am in fact a professional cocksucker…. Anyways.

I show up to Gerbil’s birthday get together at Hooters. I mistakenly show up an hour early. Fail. In an attempt to find something to pass my time I drive in circles. Not working. What can I possibly do to delay me walking in this place and feeling like the guys off of “To Catch a Predator”.  I drive to my bank and hope to get stuck in rush hour.

9 minutes later I’m back in the parking lot.

“Fuck!”

I go in.

Hostess, “Welcome to Hoot..”

“where’s the bar.”

She directs me and I go. 

I perch up and wait for a beer. While waiting I note a USA Today, and I reach for the sports section. There is a grease stain with the remnants of chicken stuck to the page.

I wait for my beer and stare at the wall.

“What can i gt you to drink”

I point at an aluminum Bud bottle in the fridge behind her.

“Do you want draft or bottle?”

I point more sternly at the aluminum Bud bottle behind her.

“Glass or Metal?”

Are you kidding me? “The aluminum one!”

My beer tastes like bitter hell. I stare at the wall and force down the $5 crap. I tip $2 dollars.

$2 dollars. Remember.

7P.M.- My party arrives. We have the back room. I grab a seat and two of the girls take our drink orders. There are 13 of us. 7 pitchers at most.

7:20P.M.- My sole pitcher arrives.  Hooray. I order fried pickles because I have heard they are excellent, and a 10 piece 911/Cajun wings.

7:50P.M.- My pickles arrive. This is the 3rd time I have seen the waitress. We are not too demanding of a crowd. What could be he hold up?

7:54P.M.- My wings are in front of me. I inhale the deep fried misery and prep for my wings.  911 wings were cold. I don’t mean heat lamp cold, I don’t mean room temperature cold, I mean ‘the health department would have a freaking field day for the temp of this chicken’ cold.  Also, 4th time to see her.

By 8:30 it is obviously clear that everyone is ready for a ticket or another drink. I give the universal “ticket” gesture.

9:17P.M.- I get my ticket. It is 23 dollars and some change. I hand the girl $40.

“Do you want change?”

4 words have just ruined this girls night.  I don’t care how “nice” these girls are, or how “caring” they are, her mother should have aborted for all I care.  I am officially beside myself. I see you less than 4 minutes in the past 2 hours and 17 mind numbing minutes and you have the audacity to ask if I want the fair half of my 23 dollar ticket back? Why you rotten little skank…

NOTE: I had strategically placed 71 cents under a plate as her tip because the service was that pathetic.

I deduct 2 quarters from that. And to be honest, I’m sure I was in the top 10% who gave her the best tip.

Combined, the table had to of spent $500-$600.  She probably only made 20 bucks. Excuse me, $20.21. 

I don’t care how big your tit’s are. You get TIPPED for good fast friendly service. You don’t give the gold medal to the gymnast with the most degrading costume. If she doesn’t like the costume, she should have been a CFO or a trucker or a mascot.  I hope that 21 cents gets her far on the highway to life, cause she should probably think about driving as far away as possible from what she’s currently doing.

Yes today is the day I and a fellow neighbor of mine have dubbed Stiff Drink Friday. I am thrilled for Fridays, as the day is just that much sweeter. But today, today something wonderful happened that could be the reason I will be in a better mood all day long. 

I had just exited onto 61st and headed west towards Memorial. 61st usually angers me because for some odd reason, the far lane between Mingo and Memorial can sometimes on good days hit speeds in excess of 35 mph.  Do not be fooled, this is not traffic congestion, people just feel that this area of Tulsa can be a real “nightmare”. There is ABSOLUTELY no reason for this to be a hazardous area. Traffic never comes to a stop for someone turning, it’s never really THAT busy.  If I can remember this part of my commute every morning and have the ability to write about it, it must piss me off… And it does.

So as I’m traveling westbound on 61st going at a rate that would give a three toed sloth restless leg syndrome I look to notice a child standing in front of his house on a side road as if someone were picking him up for school. His mother is standing next to him waiting patiently as well.  Since I obviously wasn’t going anywhere quickly, to took note of this mother and son. 

Do you remember the early Michael Jackson videos where there is an actual storyline to the video and at just the right moment Michael breaks out in this ultrasonic dance that rattles the walls? This child, no older than 8, backpack on back, mom at side, throws this move down that stopped traffic. This kid dropped these moves, rewound, refilled, and doubled up the funkiest shit I had ever seen. The kids moves could stop global warming they were so ice cold. 

It may be the Starbucks bottled frappuccino drinks I’ve had, but I can’t quit shaking. A defining moment had come acrosss this kid, and he certainly defined the moment. I will no doubt have a drink for this kid. He obviously knows his calling in life.

None of us will ever be on this level. 

If you are already aware of what an upper decker is, this will be a treat. If you don’t, this will be a sweet treat.

Fall 2000- It was a warm Friday. The air conditioner was pathetic in my old Blazer. The party was on the north side of our town (note that it was a little out of place for me) but the hosts’ house that was hosting the typical high school weekend party were really hot.  Our town was larger than your everyday suburban town. When you graduate with around 1000 people, there is a good chance that you don’t know a fair chunk of people; especially if I was on the southern part of town partying on the other side.

On the way to the party a buddy and I had stopped at the new Taco Bueno. I ordered a bueno chilada (the SAME thing I’ve ordered there since I was a child) and we dined down as a last attempt to ward off any hunger spells that might cross us in the evening. Upon arrival the party was already unfolding. I had to park at the end of the block. Now my buddy was someone from North so he knew everyone immediately and I was still new to most of these people. He heads to the back yard and I sit at the kitchen table for some consumption games. The night wears on and I still only know about 5 people here. I start to get impatient because everyone is walking around with this undeserved sense of personal accomplishment. Like talking to a group of realtors.  Some of the people were athletes, some were spoiled beyond rich, and some were just scrappers, (luckily I wasn’t much of a “roughian, however, my buddy was).

Even as the night went on, I still didn’t have a whole lot in common with these people except maybe the whole friend of a friend relationship, and those are always awkward:

Me, “So you know (friend)

Friend of friend, “Yeah, he/she is awesome”

Me, “Yeah, I’ve had some crazy times with him/her”

Friend of friend, “Yeah, you should have known him/her as long as I have!”

Me, “……..fuck you.”

The party was “filling beyond fire code” and the hostess was starting to kick people out that she was not familiar with. This worried me because I was a threat… And on top of all of that, the Bueno was about to make an appearance.

Hostess, “I don’t know you, you need to leave.”

Me, “I need to use your bathroom…please”.

Hostess, “Well I guess you should have thought about that before.”

What the… Thought about what? Your random ability to deny me usage to your restroom because you feel the need to show off authority and banish me from your household in front of your friends? You BITCH…

She turned around and continued to filter through people that she felt were not worthy of her parents cheap ass house.

I, on the other hand, found my way into the hall bathroom…

I locked myself into the bathroom still upset from the poor attitude I had just received.  I knew I had to be quick in the bathroom because I did not want to jeopardize my dignity by some bitchy hostess picking a bathroom lock and exposing my “no bueno”bathroom visit.

I undid my pants, and it hit me quicker then the bueno did.

[This next piece is the definition of the upper-decker.  You remove the lid to the back tank on the toilet. Once removed, one stands on the toilet lid and removes pants to knees. Pending head clearance, prankster now defecates in tank. Replace lid and walk away. This is turn will stink and continuously recycle poopy water]

I quickly gave this bathroom one bueno of an upper-decker. And for the icing on the cake, I used the decorative hand towels as my personal toilet tissue. Once I replaced the decorative towels to their respected towel racks. I was out of the bathroom in and out of the bathroom in a few minutes. None the wiser.

I can only hope that the hostess of the party had tried plunging the toilet all next morning not understanding why this was happening. Putting the plunger up and drying her hands.

I look back now and feel kind of guilty for the stint.  I demoralized this bathroom for what? Cause the girl was being a disrespectful bitch?

Yes I did.

When these crazy urges for revenge come across me, it’s usually due to a fairly good amount of pent up frustration releasing itself on one persons parade.  Unfortunately, this was not her day to act like a pain in the ass bitch. I accepted the fact that I was not familiar to her home, as did I also accept that she wanted me to leave and not use her bathroom, but…

I guess a good closing for this is, you can’t have your cake and eat it too.

Can you think of a better proverb? Post it then… And it better be good, otherwise..

No doubt. When I here a shotgun cock, I start pelvic thrusting the air. I hope I can get a copy of the surveillance video if I’m ever in a bank and they rob it with shotguns… How exciting it is…

It’s like a detonator for a guy. I hear a gun cock, I’m ready. It’s a euphoric pleasure overload.

Other guns have an effect. But none like the pure duel *CLACK* of a shotgun.

A revolvers hammer coming back is like a foot massage and a turkey sandwich compared to a shotty.  The thrill of hearing a shotgun cock brings out the carnal instincts in me.

A bolt action; ehhh. It’s like a glass of wine, it’ll do, but you can’t quite grasp the full effect. One can’t just enjoy one on a night out, you end up trying to fill the void that a shotgun, and ONLY a shotgun can fill.

No wonder guns and booze are always considered a bad idea.  The booze lowers your inhibitions to clearly define and “yesser” and a “not a chance”. All girls become “ehhhhyyeeaaah”.  Than you add the mysterious repercussion the crisp sound a shotgun makes and you are a walking genital.

I could make an adult movie out of 2 hours of shotguns cocking in Bose surround sound and my lady would be the happiest gal ever.

Are you a:

girl?

Who can cock a shotgun?

email me.

On the way back from the beer store, Stink is talking about the difficulties of going over bumpy roads on motorcycles.

9 year old, “My dad hit this road on his motorcycle that had like… 20 potholes in it.

It was quiet after that.

9 year old, “It was FUCKING bumpy…”

We were in tears and awww…

That day this kid continued to splash lake water in my beer (which didn’t stop me but might explain why my chest still hurts 4 days later) and throw mud at us. I wanted to challenge him to a duel, but he always would revert back to something funny which in turn would keep his death imminent.

I noticed that the more I drank, the more adult sense of humor would revert back to elementary sense of humor.  A quick example would be how Stink finally retaliated and dumped soupy mud/sand all over the top of the kids head. He replied, “ewww… it’s like diarrhea all over my head”. I would laugh because he was so vulgar it was shocking. Then night fell and the conversations began.

This kid probably sat up with us until 4 a.m. discussing some weird stuff.

9 year old, “Whats your favorite Gangland episode?”

me, “….?”

9 year old, ” I think I liked the crips episode, that tooky guy was huge”.

me, “*long pause* That one was good, did you see the one with MS13 or the nazi lowriders?”

9 year old, “Yeah! Whats a boot party?”

me, “It’s a stompdown, I’ll tell you more some other time…”

Remember that this kid is 4th or 5th grade. He does not appear out of the ordinary.

9th grader on clowns.

9y.o., “shits scary, have you ever seen the movie ‘IT’?”

me, “lalalalalalalalala, we’re not talking about that!!! lalalalala”

9y.o., “yeah, that’s some scary shit…”

9 Year Old on alcohol.

9y.o., “What kind of beer are you drinking? I got drunk for the first time when I was 3!”

me, “spewing beer out of my mouth”

stink, “JESUS! WHAT THE HELL DUDE?”

9 Year old on pets.

9y.o., “I would want a monkey, except they poo everywhere…”

me, “they say that monkeys are the carrier for aids…”

9 Year old on basketball

9y.o., “I don’t know who I like more, Shaq or Magic.”

me, “they say Magic is the carrier for aids…”

Stink, “Tommy Morrison too, they are clean now, like it went away through treatment.”

9 Year old on his own mom

9 year old pulls picture of his mom out, “she’s real pretty but she’s kinda thick..”

Stink and I laugh hysterically

9 Year old on music

9y.o. “My favorite bands are Hank Williams Jr. and Slipknot”

me, “…How? Why?”

Stink, “That makes no sense kid”

9 Year old on rap music

9y.o. “Because 2pacs crew killed biggie.”

Stink, “What about EazyE?”

me, “He had aids too.”

 CONCLUSION

Including other subjects that were completely off the wall, I’d say that the night was a success.  I learned:

-What a Banshee was (now I have ANOTHER creature to scream myself to sleep about)

-I learned that Blair Witch wasn’t a real movie based on actual events(oh piss on you, it looked real)

-The Shining will always be the scariest movie… Ever…

-Little kids can throw up if you scare them bad enough

-Tombstone the movie will never get old no matter how many times in a row you watch it

-Goat cheese is good on tostitos after drinking all day,

-And that I have finally come to terms with accepting the fact that I was just not assembled by god in a way to perform on anything that drags behind a boat.
 

A) Chlamydia

B) A dramatic experience

C) An unplanned dilemma that will inevitably ruin your night

Unfortunately, a condom cannot prevent B and C.

I was partying at an old friends house when I met this cute easy little number who began openly flirting with me; if only all confrontations were this easy.

She showed me her boobs.

I smiled.

She asked to see my phallus.

I obliged.

She told me she shaved.

I asked fora viewing.

When a girl this simple comes along, you hold onto her. Not for a relationship, you never date anyone like this, unless your desperate but then you’ll always be worrying if she REALLY went to the bathroom or if she’s providing tug jobs for the rugby team in the hallway.  I always wondered what their fathers would think if they walked in on them performing said acts. Then one begins to pray that they don’t have daughters…

Our random romps went on for a few weeks. I’d call, she’d show up, we’d do what… well we’d slap ‘em. I didn’t feel guilty because quite frankly, she initiated this.  Then the unplanned dramatic experience that inevitably ruined my night decided to make it’s entrance.

I was at my friend Eskimo’s house drinking in the garage when I decided to call her up. We’re all pretty plowed and it just seemed like the right idea. She shows up and I sat down in the driveway with her. We started hooking up again in the driveway, one thing led to another and within minutes I was slappin ‘em again. Her heavy breathing turned to moans, that turned to other noises that turned into crying.

Not the good crying either.

I let up to see what all the crying was about. I was actually sensitive to her emotions.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“My daddy wouldn’t buy me a pair of shoes today! He’s so mean…”

I was astonished. Why on earth would she think of that in the middle of sex in a driveway with me.

Do I want to know? This might be one of those crazy repressed thoughts that I might have uncovered unknowingly.

“Eww, maybe you should leave right now…”

I ran into this girl about 5 years later at a festival in Stillwater, OK. She was a beer vendor. I sparked up a quick conversation with her.

“How have you been the past 5 years?’

She shot back, “good! I got married 2 years ago!”

Oh dear god, I felt sorry for her husband. If he only knew.

I sure hope he keeps that shoe closet stocked…

And stays away from rugby parties…