get high and read

[mustynutz]

How many of you like Hooters for their wings?

Great, now how many of you like Hooters for their 40 year old waitresses with dyed blonde hair?

A few years ago, I stopped going to the Hooters restaurants in my area. I mean, it's nothing against the food, but for a restaurant whose image bases itself on hot women, they were kind of lacking. The youngest waitress was probably 30 years old. Even she looked like she was pushing 50.

Not only does my local Hooters have ugly waitresses, but the menu prices are outrageous. I'm not paying seven dollars for a burger. For seven bucks, I should get the whole meal AND a blowjob. Hell, I could find a prostitute to make me a burger and give me a blowjob for six bucks.

I would never step foot into another Hooters.

Until last night.

A group of friends and I were out bar hopping last night when we decided to grab something to eat. The group wanted to go to Hooters, so I humbly obliged.

As I stepped through the front door of the place, I wasn't expecting anything special. There was your stereotyical fat old guy sitting at the bar blowing his paycheck on food and beer thinking he actually had a shot at taking home one of the waitresses.

Then there was the group of highschool freshmen boys who couldn't even contain their boners as the waitress took their orders.

There was something different about the waitresses this time around. They were young college girls. They were also hot.

As we sat down, a young look girl with brunette hair walked up to us and took our drink orders. Nothing personal against her, but she barely had a chest. Hell, I could compete with her in the big boobs category and probably win. I'm probably barely an A cup.

As she looked down at me, she cracked a smile. I quickly covered my eyes, because her braces practically blinded me. It was as if the angels lit up the room. I was almost expecting Jesus to resurrect and jump out of her shiny mouth.

Great, a 12 year old Hooters waitress just took my order.

I had a burger, fries and a soda. The grand total of my meal came to thirteen bucks. And the bitch still wanted a tip. As we got up to leave, I pulled my chair out just in time to catch a waitress who was walking by. She tripped over the leg of the chair and fell flat on her face.

To tell you the truth, I wasn't really expecting her to fall falt down. I was more or less expecting her boobies to catch her and bounce her right back up, then she'd brush herself off and go about her business.

I apologized several times as she bent over fixing the hole that she tore in her stockings. She told me to just get my ass out. As she started to walk again, she tripped and fell AGAIN over another guy who had his chair pulled out.

I was having a great time watching boobies fly all over the place.

As we sat in the parking lot in two separate cars tlaking to each other and deciding where else we should go, a homeless man started to approach the cars. He had to walk a long distance too. I waited until he got within a few feet of my car and then took off. Stupid homeless people wanting my money.

We decided to stop into a little bar in a run down building with only 5 or 6 cars sitting out front. As we walked in, you could tell that these people are here every week. Everybody at the bar turned and looked at us, wondering who the newcomers were.

I live in South Carolina, so you bet your ass this was a redneck bar. In the corner, there was a woman with big hair butchering Hank Williams Jr's "Family Tradition" on karaoke. On the dance floor in front of her, there was a four foot talll hillbilly with a long beard and cowboy hat dancing. I'd later learn that everyone referred to him as Monkey.

My buddies had a seat at the bar as I explored the small place. The first person to greet me was a very flamboyant bartender.

"Hey fella! We never seen you 'round these here parts! I love your hair! I do!"

Should I conclude that he's gay since his greeting involved complimenting my hair? Nah, I'm not shallow. Not yet. I'll just say that he's really friendly.

"Hey there, how's it going?"

He then came up to me and hugged me.

"Oh you're a big muscly man! Yes you are! Look at that ass!"

So, NOW should I conclude that he's gay? He complimented my muscles and found my ass attractive. Nah, I'll give him the shadow of a doubt. Maybe he's just one of those guys that notices other guys' butts.

But what he'd say next would definitely cement down that he was in fact gay.

"I'm gay."

Told you.

I looked over at the bar, trying to find a way to get away from this guy. There were no seats left, so I was left standing at the end of the bar talking to a redneck homo.

"So sweety, do you like hotdogs?"

Is he asking me if I'm gay too?

"Um... well.. the only hotdogs I like come on a bun with ketchup."

"Oh you're so silly! I'm only playing with you! Loosen up!"

He's right. I should loosen up and have a good time. He invited me to play a game of pool with him, winner getting 20 dollars. What the hell, I'm a decent pool player. He can't be that good.

I was right. He plays pool more horrible than my 86 year old grandmother. And I've never seen her play pool. I can only assume that she sucks. I've never seen any billiard trophies around her house.

Okay, fuck it. I just ruined that last joke.

So you might be asking yourself-- How exactly did he hustle me in pool if he's a bad player?

Well, he wouldn't stop playing mind games with me while it was my turn to shoot.

While I was slumped over the table getting ready to do my shot, he'd innocently take his stick and poke my butt with it. Other times he'd run it up my leg. This made me miss my shots horribly.

After I told him to not touch me, I couldn't help but look up at him before each shot. He'd wink or push his tongue against the inside of his cheek, insinuating a blowjob. Needless to say, this threw off my concentration and I barely lost the game and 20 bucks.

Hell, at least I got a blowjob out of the deal.

 

[mustynutz]

think we all have our moments of stupidity. Sometimes, though, our moments of stupidity can cross over into the sexual realm, offering moments of hilarity that cannot be conceived of by the average bear.

I've jerked off with just about everything short of bits of glass and sandpaper. Don't bother trying to name other things I probably haven't spanked the Ramburgler with. You're probably right. But that's not the point of this post.

I've grown quite partial to using a bit of shaving cream to smack around my 21st digit whilst I'm in the shower. The good thing about shaving cream is how it stays slippery when wet, offering maximum lubage. It's glorious, I tell you. On top of that, you don't need a hell of a lot to stroke the meat puppet, so it's enjoyable AND economical.

Plus, I don't really use shaving cream for actual shaving. I go through disposable razors like a fiend, though.

But either way, it sure beats the looks I would get from my roommate if I walked out of the room with shampoo, razors, and KY jelly in hand.

Unfortunately, yesterday, I ran out of shaving cream. "Ah well, I suppose my jibberstick will have to go through a day without any loving. I'll live." I thought to meself. But ladies and gents, sometimes habits become routines, and it just isn't so easy. After a few minutes of standing around in the shower, not really doing much of anything, I finally gave in. I had to jiggle my all-beef thermometer.

Let's see.... I had to choose either a bar of soap, my handy dandy Gillette Mach 3, or my bottle of Herbal Essences. While the Mach 3 was looking pretty kinky, I decided that it had to go. And while the bar of soap was looking mighty attractive, I finally gave in to the Herbal Essences when images of some chick in a shower going "YES!! YES!! YES!!" pervaded my every thought.

So Herbal Essences it was. I applied copious amounts to my left hand, readied myself in the corner, and proceeded to lather up Girthy McGirth.

Oh, heavens. I began to understand the commercials more and more. I began to groan. My eight inches of throbbing pink Jesus swelled with pleasure. Faster and faster my hand moved as I thought about Asian schoolgirls, busty blondes, and Jasmine from Aladdin. My face turned skyward as I thanked the Lord for His gift to men.

And that's when my urethra began to burn with the fire of 1000 suns.

It was horrid. My images of MickGinny's redheads faded into images of seared penis flesh. My eyes went wide with pain, and water pelted my eyeballs. I began to rub my eyes furiously, forgetting that my hands were covered with Satan's fire.

The reaction was immediate. I began to wail like a schoolgirl.

"OH GOD!! MAKE IT STOP!!" I screeched.

I began to rub the soap into my eyes more as I tried to wipe them with my towel. But the fire in my fallopian fiddler was moving further and further down inside. The commercials lied to me. They promised me a pleasurable experience.

All I felt was death.


Apparently, my floor-mates heard my delirious screams and called 911. Legend has it that before they found me curled in a little ball, passed out on the shower floor, I cried out one last time, damning the company that made Herbal Essences:

 

[mustynutz]

The greatest thing I've ever done.

I have several ads in local phone books for "Polishing & Chrome Plating" and more often then I'd
like, I get residential calls asking me to polish lamps or door handles and other miscellaneous
household items. It's safe to say 85% of the time I refuse this kind of work because Mr. & Mrs.
Homeowner don't like to spend lots of money. There's a key word I look for when I accept this type
of work. "Antique" Today a lady called and asked me if I can "refinish copper antique elephants".
What city are you in? "Beverly Hills". Kaching! I'll be right over.

I pull up to a decent size house, nothing too fancy but you can tell there's money. I ring the
doorbell and after 2 minutes I'm ready to go home thinking it's a prank, just then an extreemly
thin and frail woman answers the door wearing dark sunglasses and her head is wrapped in a long
scarf. It's easy to see this is a chemo therapy chick because she's covering her (bald) head. She
apologized for time it took to answer the door, we shook hands and I walked in. Within 30 seconds
I can tell she used to have money. She clears her throat and introduces herself as Alex. She then
takes me to her patio where her copper elephants are, there are 6 in total. The largest one is
about 2 feet long and over a foot high and they each get smaller down to a tiny baby and their
trunks are supposed to interlock. They're heavy, pure copper. I flip one over and it's made in
1937 with some handwritten signature.

Alex: I'd like to get these refinished. I want a full polish to show the beauty of the copper then protected with a durable lacquer finish.
Me: Um.... Yeah... See, these are antiques and they'd be worth more if you left them alone.
Alex: Why would you say that? Are you an antique dealer?
Me: I've done enough decorative plating & polishing to know that once you refinish something that's this old and original, the value decreases severely.
Alex: Hah! You're just afraid that you'll catch what I've got.
Me: Not at all ma'am
Alex: Well it's cancer and it's not contagious.
Me: I don't care what you've got, if you want me to polish these then....
Alex: Whatever, just ... Leave the fucking elephants alone and get out

If I had walked out, there would be no reason to post.

I'm not a sensitive person. Fuck you and fuck your pain, tough shit, tough break. Well, I didn't
think I was a sensitive person and I found out I was dead wrong. I looked into her eyes because I
was going to tell her off and I didn't like her attitude. But I didn't look IN her eyes, I looked
into her soul and ....... This is going to sound strange, but in a freaky way I felt her pain. By
her skin and eyes you can tell that this was a once gorgeous woman. Now she is a frail skeleton
with skin. I stared at her for about 8 seconds without speaking (8 seconds is a long time when you
are looking into a persons eyes and not saying anything). Without warning I leaned in and hugged
her. Oddly she didn't resist and hugged me back. She started to cry. I absolutely hate to admit
this, but I started crying too. There we stood hugging and crying on each other for a good 5
minutes. During that time she was mumbling a prayer and thanked God. When we finished our
cleansing hug, we wiped each others tears and smiled then laughed in ebarassment.

Me: Why was you praying?
Alex: I was thanking God. I prayed for a hug.
Me: ?????
Alex: It's been over a year since....I've been.. hugged.
Me: No shit?
Alex: (laugh/cry) No shit. Ever since this started....... I have nobody, no friends, no time, no...

She went on to explain that ever since her cancer, her husband left and she has no real friends
left because she's always going to doctors or feels like shit. I hung out for an hour or so and we
both exchanged sob stories. She was so hungry for conversation and attention that I actually felt
sorry for her. Usually I piss on sympathy whores, but this was different. Her life was pure shit
and it was ending in the shittiest way possible.

The copper elephants? She was going to refinish them and leave them for some charity so they can
sell at a higher price.

She's got about 4 months left.

The greatest thing I've ever done was give someone a hug and be a shoulder to cry on. We take
human contact/touch for granted. We can touch ourselves all day long, but nothing compares to
being touched by another person (that's why I used to jerkoff with the left hand, it felt like
somebody else was doing it).

Sorry about that, the post was too sensitive and feminine.

I'll be visiting her again. We exchanged phone numbers. As I left I got a sincere thank you and a
kiss on the cheek.

 

[MURDERGHOST]

interesting stories... post some more...

 

[VSTXDJ]

The greatest thing I've ever done was give someone a hug and be a shoulder to cry on. We take
human contact/touch for granted. We can touch ourselves all day long, but nothing compares to
being touched by another person (that's why I used to jerkoff with the left hand, it felt like
somebody else was doing it).

hahahahhahahahahh dat part had me fuckin rollin

 

[sacking916]

You have great story telling skill; furthermore, your stories are written in a high level of correct grammer.

 

[2ill4u]

That last story was all sensitive and shit and then boom- I jerk it with the left.

 

[krishna]

did you really write those?

ps- everyone knows you use conditioner to jerk, NOT shampoo! (my health education teacher back in high school taught us that)

 

[Siccx Degree]

That second one was the shit, funny as hell and well written...

 

[mustynutz]

There comes a time in every man's life when he finally has to settle down with a woman. Some settle down later than others, but for the most part, we'll all find that special someone that we want to spend the rest of our life with. Yes, I'm talking about marriage.

As many of you may not know, I'm engaged. I have been for a few months now. Her name is Samantha, I met her at a local public swimming pool over the summer.

I was hanging out at the diving board with the 8 and 9 year old black kids, as I do everyday. Some people donate money to their community, some volunteer their time, I just spend time with the local African American kids.

"Hey yo, Sideburns. Check dis shit out right hea."

Leroy, the youngest of the group at 6 years old, jumped off the diving board. He executed a perfect can-opener, landing in the water with hardly any splash.

"Damn nigga, that was some tight shit, yo", I said.

What? I was trying to relate to the community.

"Sideburns, you do dat shit Leroy just did. Or is yo' white ass too scared?"

Oh snap. I was just called out in front of my peers. I had to live up to the challenge and execute the perfect can-opener. As Nicorette, Allegra, Antwon, Anferny, Jiggawop, and Enzyte looked on-- I climbed the diving board ladder.

I jumped up and down on the end of the diving board to get enough air. With perfect precision, I jumped in the air, putting my knee to my chest, and landing in the water with no splash. The ghetto kids starting cheering as I came up from under the water.

It was like an Arsenio Hall audience. "Hoo hoo hoo hoo", they said while pumping their fists in the air.

The kids loved me. They saw me as the cool older guy. The parents saw me as some sicko white boy with a 9 year old negro fetish.

As I climbed the ladder and got out of the pool, I saw her. She appealed to me because she had long brown hair and the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. Or perhaps it was because she was the only white girl in the pool area. Who knows.

"Yo Sidey, isn't that one of them white bitches? Get up on that shit!", Nicorette said.

My eyes met hers. She stared at me, then her eyes darted straight down to my crotch area. I smirked because a girl had never knowingly stared at my crotch area. I walked up to her and grinned.

"Anything you want to tell me babe?"

She grinned. "Yes, I actually do."

I raised my eyebrows. "What is it, baby?"

"Your swimming trunks came off in the water."

I looked down, and sure enough, Captain Winky and the Basham Brothers were in full view of everyone. Needless to say, this got me a date.

After a night on the town with Samantha, she took me back to her apartment and introduced me to her roommate, Amanda. Apparently the two girls were on their college swim team together. After that night, I didn't see Amanda much anymore. She was as beautiful as Samantha, but I knew I had to keep my hands off of her.

Samantha and I eventually fell in love with each other. One night over dinner, I asked her to marry me. I wasn't expecting her to say yes, but right away she obliged. The next few weeks went by so fast, we already had a wedding date planned.

Everything would go as smooth as possible, and I can thank my swimming trunks for it. Thank you swimming trunks. Oh, how sweet is is to be loved by you.

This relationship was too perfect. I introduced her to my underage negro friends and she loved them. Except the part where Leroy kept smacking her on the ass and digging his face into her boobies every time she hugged him. That crazy Leroy.

Last week, Samantha called me and invited me to her place for dinner. As I pulled up to the apartment complex, I didn't see Samantha's car anywhere. I knocked on her door, and to my surprise, Amanda appeared at the door.

"Oh hey Justin. Samantha called and said she'd be here later. She had to work overtime tonight."

"Oh okay, no problem. Mind if I wait inside?"

"No, not at all."

I plopped down on the sofa and turned on the television as Amanda went upstairs to do whatever she had to do. She was quite the eye candy, but I was engaged now. I couldn't make a move on my fiance's best friend. Besides, she wasn't interested in me.

A few minutes later, Amanda came strolling down the stairs with a towel wrapped around her body. She stepped in front of me.

"Is there anything you'd like to do, Justin?"

"Actually yes. I'd like to watch the rest of this game, now move."

She reached around and turned the TV off. She then dropped the towel, showing a very revealing bikini underneath. I couldn't help but stare.

"You might be Samantha's, but I always get what I want", she said.

"But.. I .. can't.."

"Shhhh", she put her finger over my lips., "If you won't tell, then I won't. It'll be our little secret."

"I can't do this to her. I ...just can't. Besides, she'll be here any minute now."

"No she won't, she'll be at work until midnight. Look, if you want to have a little fun with me, then I'll be in the hot tub."

She winked and strolled out to the hot tub.

I didn't know what to do. I sat there for a minute weighing the options. On one hand, I could remain faithful to Samantha and have a good conscience. On the other hand, I can have sex with her friend and hope that Amanda won't tell her.

I made up my mind, I reached into my pocket and grabbed my keys, then headed out the front door straight to my car. Leaning on the driver's side door was Samantha with a big smile on her face. I stood there with a puzzled look on my face. She ran up to me and hugged me tight.

"I knew you wouldn't give in! I told her that you'd never cheat on me! You're the right guy for me and I love you so much! You passed the test, Justin!"

I smiled and hugged her back.

Thank God I left my swimming trunks in my car.

 

[mustynutz]

Working behind the counter of a local restaurant has its perks. I can drink all the free soda that I can handle and boy to I take advantage of it. I can guarantee that when I'm 40 years old, that on an average trip to the bathroom I'll probably piss out about 10 kidney stones. Another perk of working at this restaurant is all the free burgers, fries, corndogs, and onion rings I can eat. Every night I'm bringing home about 10 corndogs. Yeah I know, I'm going to be a fat 40 year old who passes kidney stones, but hey... free corndogs!

The main perk of this place is the amount of hot females that I get to view. I don't make 8 bucks an hour to prepare greenbeans, mashed potatoes and take orders. I get paid 8 bucks an hour to watch girls. And boy is the money worth it. I've only been working at Carolina Fine Foods(another hint, Mac.. come find me) for about two weeks and I've already gotten three phone numbers.

One girl in particular, Kellie, showed up tonight as I was closing up. I told her that I didn't have a ride home so she offered to drive me. She was hot, so I couldn't refuse. There we were, sitting in my driveway when she very shyly and slowly made the first move...

She shoved her hand into my pants.

I leaned my seat back and closed my eyes and prepared for pleasure, when a very different feeling ran thru my body. Something was wrong, so I politely let her know of the small problem...

"Holy shit your hands are cold! Let the fuck go!!"

I decided tonight was my night to be in the driver's seat.

So I opened my door and made her get in the passenger seat and I hopped into her seat.(HA!)

Okay, I actually eventually worked my hand into her pants. I had to make my way thru sharp bellybutton rings, sharp belts, and one very arrogant zipper. He wasn't going to let me in without a fight. After all the undoing, unzipping, unbuttoning, restructuring, unfolding, and reorganization of all her mechanical outter parts I finally got my hand to the zone. She did the usual heavy breathing, moaning, body twitching, and grabbing of the face. One thing in particular she did was quite annoying. She laughed during the vaginal stimulation ceremony.

"Mmmm Justin. Yes! Yes! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! mmmm. Ohhh. HEHEHEHEH AHAHAHAHAH!!"

Besides that, it went off without a hitch and I went inside to eat me a snack and get online for a while. I changed my clothes, washed my hands VERY WELL, and grabbed me a bag of chips. As I brought the delicious Lay's sour cream and onion chip to my lips, I noticed a foul odor. What the hell? These chips stink! I threw the whole bag in the garbage can and then grabbed me a Little Debbie snack cake. Then as I brought the cake to my mouth I noticed another foul odor.

What the hell? Is everything I have expired now?

After discarding of the stinky cake I went back into the bathroom, took a shower then proceeded to brush my teeth. During the process, I noticed the same foul odor. So now my toothpaste stinks? Upon further examination I figured out that the stinch was coming from my own fingers.

Fuck. Damn that girl.

I scrubbed and scrubbed my hand with every soap I own and the stinch won't go away. Why is it that a lady's vagina stinch is just as hard to get out as a skunk's? Too bad the smell is twice as vile as well. I can't do anything with these fingers anymore! I can't eat a sandwich, brush my teeth, chew my nails or even sniff my fingers. I know what you're thinking... "Use your other hand!". It's just not the same though. After so many years of eating out of one hand, it feels weird eating from another hand. It's almost like I'm being fed by a stranger.

Just call me stinky finger.

 

[mustynutz]

When I was in highschool, I had a strong sense of being. I was not afraid of anyone or anything and always stood up for myself whenever challenged. For that reason alone, I had only been in few fights my whole life. I'm able to either talk my way out of fights or talk so much shit that the opposing party backs down. Unfortunately, I wasn't like this my whole life. In middle school, I avoided confrontation at all costs. When the school bullies made fun of me, I let them have their fun. In middle school, I hadn't bulked up just yet, so I was an easy target.

Steven, the bully that gave me the most trouble. He was 6 foot something, 300+ pounds. He was quite a hefty guy. At the time, I thought it was cool to have slicked back hair and a comb in my back pocket-- ala 'Outsiders' style. Steven dubbed me the nickname Paco because apparently Mexicans slick their hair back more than street thugs. This nickname spread throughout middle school fast and before you know it, everyone was teasing me with the Paco name. Even the hispanics were making fun of me for looking like a Mexican. I knew that was a low point.

In gym class, Big Steven dropped weights on my feet while I was trying to lift. In History class, he sat behind me and threw pieces of pencil at me. I was literally scared to go to school because of this guy, he made my life a living hell. One day in particular, I was sitting in History class not feeling so well. I had the flu and was sneezing like crazy. Steven takes the opportunity to come over to my desk and kneel down beside me..

"Aw, what's the matter Paco? Little bitch feeling sick?"

''ACHOO!''

Steven had my snot and saliva covering his face, which received a roar of laughter from the class. Everyone found this funny but me. I knew I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. He wiped his face, gave me a look that says ''You're dead'' and went back to his desk. After class ended, I tried to get out of the classroom before he did, but it was no use. As soon as I got out of the door, I was pushed from behind. Not just any push, this push snapped my neck back and gave me whiplash. I laid on the ground, surrounded by students egging Steven on to kick my ass. Kick my ass he did. I was kicked about 20 to 30 times as I just lay there. I didn't fight back.

A couple weeks later, I saw him at school again for the first time. He actually tried to be my friend.. or so I thought. In gym class he asked me to play him in a one on one game of basketball. I humbly obliged. When he had the ball and I was guarding him, he took the ball and threw it as hard as possible at my face. He broke my nose. Since that day, he had given me many more memories I'd rather forget.

The summer before I started highschool, I was still the pansy guy that was afraid of confrontation. On a late summer night I was walking to the convenience store while listening to my portable cd player when a car pulled up near me and rolled down the window. A gun was pulled on me and I remember someone telling me to give them the cd player.

From that day forward, nothing scared me.

My freshman year of highschool was going great, then in the middle of the school year I happened to run across Steven again. I stood out in front of the school waiting for my ride as he muttered something about the ass kicking he had given me a few years earlier. His mom was picking him up in the front of the school and as he got into his mom's brand new Mercedes, I don't know what came over me, but I yelled to him...

"Hey, Steven! I'm gonna pay you back for all the hell you gave me, you fucking pussy!"

He said nothing to me because his mom was present, got in the car and left. For some odd reason, I hadn't seen him the rest of the year. Apparently he was arrested and sent to a juvenile center. I was literally ready to stand up to him the next day. I was still a skinny kid, but I wasn't scared anymore. Since highschool, I've bulked up considerably.

When would I run into Steven again?

Today.

When in my life would I snap for the first time ever?

Today.

I was inside the grocery store when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turn around and see Steven standing there. He asked me if I was ever going to pay him back like I promised I would. He muttered something about me still being a pussy, but I wasn't going to fight. I'm a grown person now. He's still a highschool bully. I explained to him that those days were over and that I had grown mature. I wasn't going to fight him under any circumstance.

"Okay, too bad you fucking pussy."

What the FUCK did he just say to me?! AW HELL NAW! It's on like Donkey Kong, beeyatch.

You thought I kicked his ass in the store, didn't you? You're wrong. I kept my composure and walked out to my car. I put the grocery bags into my car when he suddenly pulls up in the Mercedes his mom used to own...

"What's up, PACO?"

Paco? Paco? PACO?!?! I've got your Paco right here!

Saturday, March 13, 2004 at approximately 4 o'clock PM, I lost it. I charged to his car, kicked the shit out of his door, denting the hell out of it. He then tried to step out of the car, but I punched him in the face over and over, I'm guessing about 10 times. He put his hands in the air to block me as the blood started running down his nose. He stepped on the gas and flew across the parking lot, hitting the hell of a buggy return rack. He won all the battles, but I won the war.

I need some ice.



..Whatchu lookin' at?

 

[mustynutz]

Last October, I had just broken off a two-year long relationship with a girl that I truly thought was the one. I can't explain it well, but you just know when you want to spend the rest of your life with someone. Come to find out, she was lying to me- about everything. Cheaters should fucking die.

I vowed to never date again. It was about time I started focusing my time and effort on my life. I wanted to get my life straightened out, hence why I joined the military-- to make something of myself. I would never give my time of day to another female again. I was doing pretty well for myself for three months. I hadn't been on one date and was feeling better than ever when I woke up each morning. Then, it happened. I met a very attractive girl who has a personality to die for. So much for will power.

One things leads to another, and we arrange a date. Friday night, 8 p.m. Be at her house, pick her up, go out, have fun, go back home. Simple enough:

Friday, 7:30- She told me the name of her housing complex, I forgot to write it down, but I knew it started with a 'D'. I was driving down the road and noticed that this was a REALLY nice neighborhood. REALLY NICE. Just driving down the road, I felt like an outcast as every BMW, Mercedes and Cadillac passed my '93 Ford.

7:55, perfect timing. I'm at Daxwood housing complex. That's the name I remember hearing. I didn't get an exact number address from her, mistake number one. She said she was the first house on the right in that development. I casually stroll up to the door, knock three times. Waiting.. waiting.. Nobody answers. I knock again several more times, then realize that I might have been stood up. Head hanging low, I walk back to my car just as the front door creeps open. I turn around to find an elderly lady peeking from behind the door, breathing respirator sitting on the floor. Wrong house, my bad.

8:15- I finally find the right house.

We go to a nice restaurant, talk for hours, then I take her home. All in all, not a bad date. Not a memorable one either. Saturday morning I get a call from one of her ''friends'', explaining how my date never wanted to talk to me again and how much of an asshole I was for being rude to her friend on our date.

What the fuck did I do wrong?? I took her out to eat, PAID, and took her home. She did not complain one time. Hell, I was even cracking jokes that made her laugh so hard that people at the next table were annoyed. I think I did one hell of a job in entertaining her. Then I get some bullshit lines about things I did wrong.

#1. I didn't open any doors for her or pull out her chair when she sat.

Umm, when we parked at the restaurant, she had already stepped out of the car and in the restaurant seated, ready to order, before I even got my seatbelt off. Besides, open your own door bitch.

#2. My jokes about being cheap.

I thought my line was pretty fucking hilarious. "You can order anything you want-- off the salad menu". It was a joke. Nothing more. She laughed. AND she had the fucking steak. Grand total of the dinner, $65.25.

Fuck dating. Fuck women. Most importantly, fuck bitches who try to be women.

 

[mustynutz]

What all women want is a guy with money or a guy in uniform. Hell, why can't I be both?! When I had money and a nice car, I couldn't keep them off of me. In the past several months, I lost my car because of insurance issues, lost my job because I lost my car, and was forced to move back in with mommy. I figured I'd wing it and see if I could remain jobless for the rest of my life and just live a worry-free existence. Apparently now that I'm 20 years old, I'm expected to help out and help pay bills.

Fuck that.

Ever since I graduated highschool, I've been living from paycheck to paycheck, barely able to afford to feed myself, let alone have fun. My dad had been pressuring me for years to join the Air Force. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. Great benefits, nice paycheck, free housing, free meals. I'm in! I went to the recruiter, had several talks, and eventually left to take my Armed Forces physical. I only had one pair of clean boxers, they were VERY short. In other words, if I were standing, you could see my entire package hanging out of the leg. More on those later. I had to take a ride on a shuttle with other recruits to Jackson AFB in Columbia, South Carolina. When she said ''put on your seatbelts'' I didn't think she meant ''I'm a really shitty driver, and your seatbelt may save your life when I'm behind the wheel''. Not to mention she was cussing the whole way there, pulling out in front of people, and chain smoking even though there was a huge ''No smoking'' sign hanging on the mirror. Also, her ''How's My Driving'' sticker was on the window... facing inward for all the recruits to see, as opposed to the people on the road.

Several hours pass, and we actually made it to the hotel alive. I was dead tired and ready to go to bed, when the old lady informs me of my schedule. ''Where the hell are you going? Get your ass back on the shuttle, you have to go take the ASVAB''. Fuck. The test to see if I'm qualified to get in. I hadn't even studied. Next stop is on the base, I go into a huge room with computers and several young men and women my age. I sat down and tried my best to answer the questions, then I notice a balding man sitting down beside me. He was about 35. More on him later.

After the hour and a half long test, we're driven back to our hotel and told to get a good night's rest because we'll have to wake up at 430am to take our physical. Fuck, the military sucks. We're then told that we will have roommates. I'm dead tired so I head on up to my hotel room, open the door, and if it isn't the 35 year old trying to get into the Armed Forces. I initiated conversation with him and realized why he's trying to get into the Air Force at 35. He's dumb as a brick. ''This is my 6th time trying to get in, but I keep failing the ASVAB''. ''What's the lowest score you have to make to get in?''. ''30''. Now, keep in mind that the ASVAB is basic highschool math and english knowledge. After 5 times, he's gotta get in this time, right?

4am came very early, especially when I didn't get any sleep. Plus, my 35 year old buddy was on his cell with his mom talking about how scared he was because he didn't ''want somebody looking at my dick''. We get on a huge ass bus, and they take us back down to the same building where I took my ASVAB. Right when we enter, we find out our scores. Those who fail have to sit on another side. I was last in line, so when I got my papers, I was told to go sit on the passing side. WOO HOO! Wait a minute, there's no seats available. I sit on the floor and notice over on the 'failing side' there's ONE person sitting there. There were 140 recruits here, and only one person failed. Guess who? My 35 year old buddy. Poor guy. While we were waiting to be called to take our physicals I decided to go talk to him.

'So, did you make it?'
'Nah'.
'Oh? What'd you score?'
'20'.

20? Damn, I do feel sorry for him. I rushed through the test, didn't do any scratch work on the paper, guessed on half the questions, and was dead tired. And I scored a 73. I could have gone thru and slammed my forehead on the keyboard and scored hire than he did. I know I may get flamed by some of you for making a joke out of this guy, but I do have a heart... I offered him a stick of gum while he waited. Hey, it was gonna be a long wait.

We're given our medical documents and we fill into a huge room with desks, and a nurse goes thru each sheet of paper with us, telling us what to fill out and what order to put the papers in. I had issues with the front desk about my paperwork, so I got to the room late. The nurse kept yelling at me for stupid shit. ''Hey you in the corner! You! The guy with the sideburns! Your folder goes in FRONT on the EDGE of the desk! NO! the OTHER WAY!!'' Shit, this is going to be a long day. After taking my hearing, bloodpressure, and seeing tests, I waited in line to see some old German doctor. When I stepped into the room, I had to strip naked. No problem, I'm comfortable with my sexuality. Cough test? Sure! Everything was going great, I was almost done, then...

''What?''
''Bend over and spread your buttox cheeks'' he said in his German accent.
''Uhh...''

I bend over.

This moment was weird, to say the least. In fact, I was getting used to having my asshole exposed in front of an elderly German guy. Then he does the unthinkable..

''Okay, this may hurt'', he says.
''That's cool, he's just going to give me a shot or something''.
I hear the distinct sound of him putting on latex gloves.
''Oh shit, please don't... don't.. Please God, no.''

I now have a finger of an old German guy up my ass. I can't say which finger it was, although length suggested it was likely his middle. After the humiliation, I walked out of the room and past the others waiting to see the doctor. "How was it?" one of them asks. "Oh, it was fine, until he finger fucked my butt". I loved the expression on his face as I limped away. At least the most embarassing part of my physical was over, right?

I sat down on another bench, on one asscheek because of the pain. As I sat, I thought about how I had always figured homosexuals to be pansy little girly boys. Not true. Obviously, it takes a real man's man to be gay. You have to be one tough guy to have something rammed in your ass... and enjoy it nonetheless. As I was sitting a short black doctor named Mr. Head(real name)handed out piss cups to the group and instructed us on what we were to do:

''Okay, we are now going to go into the men's bathroom. When I instruct you to, you pull your penis out. You must stand erect and scraight(not a typo). When I make sure everything's okay, I will ask you to start peeing in unison.''

We are then led into the bathroom, and I did as told..

''Penises out.''

''Stand scraight''.

''Pee.''

One guy actually had the nerve to try and be funny. He started, well, playing with himself. Dr. Head said ''what in the world are you doing?!''. ''Oh, this isn't THAT kind of test?''. The guy was disqualified from joining. Haha, dumbass. I thought the most embarassing part of the physical was over, but it wasn't.

I was directed to strip down to my boxers(oh shit)and walk into a room with a bunch of other guys that were stripped down to their boxers. Like I said, these are REALLY short boxers, so I pulled them down as far as possible without exposing my upper-package to the group. I was put in a line while the other recruits sat and waited against a wall, watching us. Dr. Head notices something, while looking down at my boxers.

''Son, what are you doing? You're even thugging out your underpants. You aren't a thug, you're going to be a member of the United States Armed Services. Pull those boxers up to your hips.. and stand up scraight''.

I didn't look down, I just took a deep breath and pulled them up right. I stood there nervously, waiting for the laughter. Nobody said anything. I looked down and...YESS! My unit must be bunched up in there. Dr. Head instructed us to lift up our legs and point our toes to the ceiling, I guess to check our balancing abilities and to see if our joints worked right. As I lifted my leg up, I felt my twig and berries plop down. I looked down, and there it was in all its glory. I reached down to try and fix the problem but Dr. Head caught me. ''Hey son! Don't move! It's not that hard!''. No pun intended.

I didn't even eye the other recruits against the wall, I just stood straight up, looking straight and hoping for this day to end. ''Now everyone sit indian style'' said Dr. Head. Yes! Now, I can readjust. As we were sitting, I proportioned 'myself' so that I wouldn't slip out anymore.

''Now, we're going to duck walk.''

Oh God, no! If you don't know what the duck walk is, it's when you put you rhands on your hips, bend all the way down to where your ass is almost touching the ground, open your legs, and walk like a duck. You cannot remove your hands from your hips. Long story short, a couple of future marines, airmen, and coastguards caught a glimpse of my entire manhood.

The day was almost over. After 10 hours of pure hell, the day was complete. All we had to do was get final clearance from the doctor, and we were officially military men. On my turn, I confidently walked up to the doctor, handed him my papers and stood there proud. ''You had pericarditis?''. ''Yes sir, but pericarditis is just a severe chest cold that causes your pericardium to swell up, making it difficult to breathe. But it's only temporary. I went to the emergency room and was perscribed antibiotics. I was better in 3 days.''

I got disqualified because the dumb fuck didn't know what pericarditis was, even though I had prior clearance from the commander of the physical. Since that day, I had been back, took the physical over again, got sworn in, and I ship off to basic training in about a month.

 

[mustynutz]

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/nyc/47785163.html

 

[mustynutz]

If Sant al-Claus has his way, Christmas Eve this year will be a holy night, but it will be anything but silent. The radial Yulist cleric, known for his red paramilitary uniform and snowy white beard, is thought to be planning a major terrorist strike within the United States sometime this holiday season. al-Claus is known to cross international borders with remarkable ease in pursuit of his goals, and this year it is considered more likely than ever that those on his naughty list will be waking up to a dirty bomb or holiday card laced with anthrax spores. al-Claus operates from a secretive base near the North Pole; special forces operations against this base have been thwarted by the uncooperative government of Canada, the mysterious and syrupy pariah nation of the boreal wilderness. al-Claus' hatred of the west is well known; while his motives remain unclear, the fat fanatic with the reindeer fetish is thought to be driven by a hatred of Israel and America, and the desire for peace on earth and goodwill toward men.

"Good" Sheikh Wence al-Slaus, a prominent supporter of al-Claus, holds that the cleric is a divinely inspired leader who is the best hope of the Yulist movement to rid the North Pole of American influence, and ultimately destroy the west. A statement read on Arabic language television network al Jazeera says "The great western Grinch is attacking Sant al-Claus by allowing global warming to melt his ice mosques at the North Pole. He will punish the infidel. He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good or the fury of Allah will smite you with unstoppable power and you will be cast from the light of heaven into eternal darkness forever. And you'll get a lump of coal in your stocking for sure."

Reports have been surfacing that members of terrorist sleeper cells have been attempting to sign up for positions in some of the nation's most prominent Santa Claus schools, presumably in order to gain positions of trust and respect in shopping malls across the country. John Sobieski of "The Original Santa Claus School" in New Albion, Michigan, said, "We had one guy come in, wanted to sign up for reindeer flight school right off the bat. He weren't interested in learnin' the laugh or 'splainin' how he gets down and up all those chimneys. Just kept askin' the maximum airspeed of a sleigh, and how much fuel a fully loaded reindeer holds." Asked to estimate the kinetic energy contained in a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, Sobieski gave a value "somewheres between hittin' a deer with your truck and, like, a fireworks factory exploding".

The Department of Homeland Security has issued no warnings of a specific threat, but urged Americans to be extremely cautious around unidentified packages, especially around the critical dates of 24-25 December. Since the passage of the Patriot Act, the law provides that if up on the rooftop there arises a clatter, you should immediately spring from your bed to see what is the matter. If confronted by a right jolly old elf, it is advisable to shoot first and ask questions later, especially if the suspect appears to have a belly that shakes when he laughs like a bowl full of jelly-- a characteristic trait of suicide bombers wearing belts of plastic explosive.

Photos:
(Left) A picture of radical Yulist cleric Sant al-Claus is hoisted aloft by an exasperated shopper during extended mall hours in the Christmas-ite stronghold of North Pole.

(Upper right) The Island of Misfit Toys, the final destination for elves, or "helpers", who violate the strict laws imposed by fundamentalist Christmas-ites, is said to be the site of nonstop violations of the Geneva Conventions. A guard declined to be interviewed for this report, but was heard to mutter "Hate untangling those goddamn lights every year. But I'll be damned if that bastard Smith across the street is gonna have a better display than me."

(Lower right) This photograph of unknown origin, passed to CIA operatives by Pakistani intelligence, suggests that there has been a new development in Osama bin Laden's plans to smuggle nuclear, biological, or chemical weapons onto American soil. Iraqi cleric Muqtada al-Sadr was reported to have sat on bin Laden's lap and asked for an X-Box, the Star Wars DVD box set, and the total destruction of America for Christmas.

 

[mustynutz]

I know, I know. It's supposed to be "physically challenged", right? Where I come from, to be physically challenged is to be surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. If you cannot walk, you are a cripple.

With that in mind, I have no reservations about labeling my girlfriend as such. It seems that the demands of birthing an alien baby _______________have rendered her lower appendages completely useless. It's a little strange, because they were working fine when we left the hospital, but completely lost any ability to function while she was watching The Swan later that evening.

So, back to the hospital we went. Medical professionals could not discover the direct cause of her troubles, except to inform us that indeed, her legs were not working. Prognosis: wheelchair.

Now the title of this post might mislead you into thinking I embraced her condition. Trust me, it's been a long, hard road. Who wants to waste time pushing some wheelchair around? Not me, that's who.

I was already preparing the usual excuses for bailing out on the relationship. Nothing fancy, as I find the classics are classics for a reason. "A dog ate my penis" or "I'm going to be a roadie for the Skorpions" would suffice.

But while rehearsing my speech in the mirror, my mind unraveled a key revelation. That revelation being "this is a pretty nice fucking mirror". It caused me to stop for a second and look around the room. Come to think of it, the plasma screen TV wasn't too shabby either. Or the furniture. Or essentially everything in her apartment. Or her car, which she couldn't drive anyway, since her legs don't work.

"Son of a bitch," I said to myself. "If I walk out on her now, I'll be walking around on all of this wonderful stuff. These are a few of my favorite things."

After many hours of consideration, I decided to stick with it. If I'm about anything, it's perseverance. Unfortunately dealing with her handicap was even worse than I could have ever imagined. I'm quite a lazy fellow, and I didn't appreciate the fact that taking her anywhere amounted to some form of exercise. At sporting events and concerts, I had to let her sit on my shoulders so she could see. And the sex, don't even get me started on that. Her long, lifeless legs constantly got in my way. I had to take an Origami class just to learn how to fold them properly.

I was at my wits end. So, I decided to turn to the one person I knew who could help. Jesus. I got down on my knees and prayed for guidance, searching for some way to embrace her possessions without having to deal with an inconvenient handicap.

Soon, my prayers were answered. The Lord worked his miracle through a telephone call from my girlfriend. It was a call in which she said those two words, those two wonderful words that have since changed my life forever.

Double amputation.

Extensive blood clotting in both legs meant that they needed to go, and I was the first at the dock to see them off. After surgery and a few short weeks of recovery, she was as good as new and better than ever.

So what is so great about having no legs, you wonder? For starters, how about everything? The sex became infinitely more satisfying and unique, as I've mastered the art of spinning her from side to side as if I was a DJ. I can alternate between the wheelchair and stuffing her into a backpack. In case of emergencies, she becomes a handy weapon. I can plant my stash in her pocket, and ditch her out the window in case the cops start following me. There are hundreds of advantages lying right at my fingertips.

But perhaps the greatest thing about it is the freak factor. When you're carrying around someone like that, people who walk or drive past cannot help but be drawn to you. I feel like we're the king and queen of the Disturbance Ball.

Although this is usually a positive, it developed into somewhat of a problem when citizens did it at restaurants. It turns out that I hate it when people watch me eat.

So I devised a simple solution. I sawed the legs off of my niece's life-size Pinocchio doll. Then I superglued Velcro strips to the top of each one, and the corresponding strips to the inside portion of each of her thighs, right above the stump. Results were better than I could have possibly expected. It appeared as if she had the body of an adult, with the legs of a child. She looked like some type of mutant. I felt like a member of the X-men. Shave my head and I would be Professor X. Throw a clock around her and I would be Professor Griff.

This has served me well, for the most part, with the exception of one unfortunate encounter at a restaurant recently. We were trying to enjoy a quiet dinner when our table was approached by some pseudo-suave white guy with emo glasses. I had her upper legs covered with a blanket, so only her wooden shoes were exposed.

"Hi, I'm Todd." He interrupted our conversation. "And you are?"

"Alicia."

I volunteered my name even though he never asked.

"My name is Tinactin. Did you need anything?"

"Well, I was just wondering why this lovely lady was having dinner with you, when she could be at a better table with me. I've got a lovely view, although all I need to see is you."

"Tee-hee", she giggled.

"Look, we're trying to eat. You're ruining the taste of my Fettuccini. I am going to have to kindly ask you to step aside."

"I wasn't talking to you. You can only speak when I allow you."

"Ok, that's the final straw. I tried to be nice, but you forced my hand. The kid legs are coming off."

RIPPPPPPPPP.

The sound of Velcro tearing pierced the air and silenced the entire room.

Todd looked down at Alicia, first with confusion, then with what appeared to be a vague sense of terror.

"Wha...what is that? That thing?"

I quietly resumed eating my pasta. I wanted to let him stew for a moment in the pot of his own design. After a few seconds of seeing him in that catatonic state, I calmly responded.

"What do you mean? Oh, you mean those stumps? Those are just the fractured remains of what were formerly a normal pair of legs. Nothing to be worried about."

I could not decipher whether Todd's response was "good" or "God", for the sound of vomit gurgling into his mouth obscured all speech. He turned away from us and released it all over the floor.

Needless to say the waiters were pretty upset. On the bright side, we didn't have to pay for our meal. So once again her handicap became my advantage. Things are going well for us now, except I accidentally broke her wheelchair. I can't afford to buy her a new one, so she is going to have to settle for the cheapest viable alternative.