Licking a Bums Ass

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Jun 27, 2002
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#1
The other day, I was riding the "L" to work in the morning. For those outside of Chicago, the "L" is the elevated train / subway that travels throughout the city and carries a wide range of people and communicable diseases. The trains occasionally jump off the track, or have pieces of buildings falling and landing on the rails. A few weeks ago, part of one of the tracks broke off and smashed through the windshield of a taxi around the same time that a container of cyanide was found in one of the tunnels.

Anyway, I had purchased a tasty cup of coffee from Bittersweet, a coffee shop right down the street from my apartment and on my way to the "L" stop. The cup was a typical to-go coffee cup with a plastic lid through which one can sip the piping hot beverage without spilling. As convenient as the paper cups may be, they have an unfortunate tendency to leak right under the lid by the seam of the cup.

After I had boarded the "L" train, I was sitting and drinking the coffee when I noticed a small amount had spilled on my finger. For some reason, I decided to wipe the coffee on the seat next to me. Ordinarily I would have used a napkin, but the only one I had was in my back pocket and I was sitting on that at the moment.

A few minutes later, I noticed that some coffee had spilled on that same finger. Since I felt bad about wiping coffee on the seat, I instinctively licked the coffee off my finger. This was the same finger that I had wiped on the seat. As soon as I licked my finger, I froze in terror, thinking about the sorts of filth, disease, and bodily fluids I had just transferred into my mouth.

Sometimes people who go shopping set their bags down on the sidewalk temporarily, then carry them onto the train and set them on the seat. I had just licked the city sidewalk. Sometimes drunks on their way to/from a Cubs game vomit on themselves and sit down in a seat. I had just licked a drunk's vomit. Sometimes bums with nothing better to do will get on the train and sit on their asses for hours at a time. I had just licked a bum's ass.

And so goes the origin of the phrase. I would like the phrase to take on meaning similar to "faux pas" or "sticking one's foot in one's mouth", except with a slight twist. Specifically, "licking a bum's ass" does not have to happen in a social atmosphere - you can do it with no involvement from anyone else. In addition, "licking a bum's ass" has a much stronger connotation than either of the other phrases because it invokes images of personal terror in the audience's mind.

Sample usage: imagine that you went out drinking heavily one night, came home, and went to sleep. The next day, you check your "Sent Email" folder and find that you sent ten emails between the hours of 3am and 5am: five of them sent to your ex-girlfriend, four sent to co-workers, and one sent to a local massage parlor inquiring if they "offer any additional services". When you were describing these happenings to a friend later, you would say, "Well, I really licked a bum's ass last night..." and then you would describe your actions in great detail.

As responses to this message, I would like to see:
* Tales of times when you or someone you know has licked a bum's ass
* Examples of other situations where one could apply the phrase "lick a bum's ass"
* Addresses of other web pages which begin using the phrase "lick a bum's ass"

We all lick a bum's ass once in a while... it was only a matter of time before someone gave it a name.

Thanks, and happy licking!
 
Jun 27, 2002
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#3
When I was younger I had a cousin that used to stay with us. His dad worked overseas and he wanted him to go to school in Canada. Later, when his dad landed a cushy job in the States, he moved to DC where he currently resides. We were pretty close then and we are pretty close now, and I often came down to Washington to visit him.

For those of you unfamiliar with the DC area, don't worry. It is not necessary to understand the contents of this post.

Now, to be more specific, my cousin didn't exactly live in DC per-say. He lived in Springfield, Virginia, which was about a half an hour outside of DC. He lived in a typical suburban neighborhood, as is the case with most of Springfield: very little crime, relatively safe, and predominantly middle class.

Often when I visited, we would go all out and he would take me to the latest party that he had heard about. He was doing his first year in nuclear medicine at Georgetown, so he was always swamped with schoolwork and never had time to go out. Consequently, when I came to visit, he tried to pack in as much insanity as possible in a one-week period.

One night we were coming home late from a house party. As I recall, it was roughly 3 am. Ryan, a very casual drinker, was pretty much in his right mind. I wasn't exactly drunk, but I wasn't exactly crisp either. With Ryan driving, it didn't really matter.

We got into the car and started to head home.

Ryan: you tired?
Me: it's pronounced "nu-cu-lear"
Ryan: Dumb ass.
Me: nah, not really. What do you have in mind?
Ryan: I haven't smoked a joint in so long man. Can we?
Me: have I ever said no to drugs? Where are we going to get it from though?
Ryan: dude, may I remind you that we are in D.C. This isn't fucking Toronto.
Me: hey Canada still cool! So, where we go then?
Ryan: best place at this time is probably the southeast side. Place called Anacostia. It's kind of a bad neighborhood though. You still up for it?
Me: Pshh. I've not afraid of no bad ass drug dealers. Let's lock and load.

As we make our way east, we get off the highway. My heart starts beating a little faster as I realize that we are two suburbanized kids entering what looked like a project. Like Dave Chapelle would say, "I didn't know it was a project, but it had all the symptoms of a project."

We park on the side of the street in front of a beat down old house that looked pretty dilapidated.

We get out of the car and look around for a bit, not really moving, but trying to keep up a tough façade to cover our nervous interiors.


"you lawst"?

We turn around and look at the decapitated house that we had just parked in front of. I see a large black man on the stoop, just sitting, not moving. Sitting and staring. Yeah, he seemed pretty approachable.

'I axed you a question. You lawst?"



Me: Uh, no, no, we ain't lost; but uh...we are...you know...lookin
BBM (big black man): Whatchoo mean lookin? Lookin fo what?
Me: you know...uh...narcotics. Preferably marijuana based.
BBM: and what makes you think dat I gots that shit on me? Do I look like a drug deala? Do I look like i gots drugs? Is that whatchoo think?

Me: Well no..it's just, you know...ahem. No.

BBM: well you right. Bubba got the best fucking shit in a fo block radius.

I almost laughed out loud at a drug dealer saying "radius"

Me: Oh ok. Two..two dimes please.

He gave me a disgusted look; then he turned to the house.

Bubba: Yo Up! Come out hee!

What? Up?



Out of the dark house comes out an equally large black man. He was walking kind of weird, as if his legs were to heavy or something. His pockets looked pretty full; and I bet they weren't posies.

Up: Yeah.
Bubba: these punks want two dimes.
Up: Das it? Pussies.
Bubba: ok den. That'll be fitty bones.
Me: What?
Bubba: Fitty bones. Fitty Goge Washintuns. You know, cherry trees and shit.
Me: Oh. I think we'll pass then. We don't have that much money.

Bubba stared at both of us; I don't think he liked that very much.

He pointed to his colleague.
Bubba: you know why dey call him Up?
Me: uh huh.
He cracked his neck.
Bubba: Cuz when you don't pay him, he fucks you up.

Ryan: Oh shit.

Me: Listen man, we don't want any trouble.
Bubba: Don't want no trouble? Well you came to the wrong place punk. This be where trouble troubulates.
Me: that's..not even a word.
Bubba: Shut the fuck up bitch! Don't be tellin me about words and shit. Lemme show you how we smack bitches up in Deecee.

He backs us up into our car, until we're both pressed against the bumper. I could literally smell his breath. I felt like crying like a bitch. We were fucked.

That's when I heard the crackle.

I pointed.

Me: your...pocket is crackling.
Bubba: say what?
Me: your pocket. It's...making crackling noises.
Bubba: Oh shit.

He pulls out a radio.

"All available units, please respond to the corner of Pomeroy and 47th, an armed robbery is in progress, all available units, Pomeroy and 47th Over."


He looks at us; reaches into his pocket, pulls out a badge.


Bubba: get the fuck outta here okay? And don't do no drugs.



We didn't say anything for a while. I finally broke the silence.





"I could really use a joint"
 
Jun 27, 2002
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#4
Over the summer there was alot of weed smoking. I meen like killing an ounce a week myself and my friend Dave killing about the same. Now we smoked together almost every day because well, its more fun getting fucked up with someone else, especially when your license is suspended and you dont want to be driving. So one day along comes 311 to Detroit, actually to Meadowbrook a small outdoor venue located at Oakland University a local college. So being as how were pot heads and 311 is as well we figured what better place to go smoke dope, and maybe sell dope than a 311 concert. So we got ourselves some lawn tickets and arranged to meet there for a very fun, very stoned evening.

I had to work that day so Dave was allready there with some other friends when we arrived. He also had coincidentally left his ounce of bud in my car so I was forced to smuggle mine as well as his into the venue. Now theres really only one safe place to put weed when u dont want it in your ass, and thats right next to your balls. For those of you who dont use drugs this is safe because no one wants to grab your balls to hard for fear of sexual harassment or any of that type shit. So i safely smuggled the 2 ounces of weed in to the concert and proceeded to find Dave. I found him after a short search and proceeded to sit down with every intention of rolling up a fatty orange joint. Upon sitting down Im struck dumb, I have no frisby to break my shit up on. This presents a problem, however being a commited and resourcefull stoner i realize that the bill of my hat will work just fine for breaking up some dope. So I proceed to roll up a joint and shortly there after we blaze it up. Now this is a 311 concert so it was pre-determined that this was only one joint of a non stop herb smoking event. So about 20 minutes after the first joint we decide its Daves turn to twist one up. So Dave rolls us up a doob and were about to light it up when two extremely hot chicks approach us from behind. "Hey is there any chance we can get in on that?" they asked in unison. Now if your a pot head you probablly understand that ugly bitches and sausage dont smoke weed for free but these chicks were hot so naturally we were like sure.

So here we are smoking a joint with 2 hot chicks who obviously dont smoke weed very often. Now usually weed and getting new pussy dont mix but on this particular occasion we seemed to be getting somewhere. We were talking and flirting and well the situation was perfect. You know, one of those situations where you know if you or someone else doesent fuck it up your gonna get some hot pussy. Well they started talking about having some beers back at their car and its clear we were about to be invited to have a few with them after the show. The pussy alert in my head starts going of like mad it was a crazy effort just to keep the im getting some ass tonight grin off my face. But then it happened. On que as soon as he hears the word beer that guy(a friend of Daves i must add) chimes in with 3 other mother fucking moolies and well it was the biggest cock block in history. The girls instantly start backing down and out of a situation Dave and I had in hand just moments ago. I would have slapped the kid but I was too stoned and unmotivated to move my ass away from the hot chick sitting next to me. So the girls hang out and chit chat for a little longer and then they get up and move off and Dave and I are thwarted by some cock blocking mother fuckers. This wouldnt have upset me if this guy was trying to get the ass for himself, but the mother fucker wasnt even aware, all he cared about was the beer.

So now its time for another joint to smoke away the thoughts of the hot pussy we have just been inadvertantly robbed of. So i start to roll it and the guys behind us are like "Hey man can we buy one of those off you?" "Sure man 7 bucks and ill hook you up." So he hands me the 7 bucks and i hand him a fat white joint(smaller than an orange) then I start to roll us another orange jib and the shit gos down. No sooner than i get the nugs on my hat bill then Dave says to me "Dude its a cop, cop, Matt its a fucking cop dude." "where at" I ask. As I look over my shoulder I see a dark black boot and the dark blue pants of a state trooper stepping directly over my shoulder and my stash. He turns, he looks right at me. Im thinking to myself jesus how in the fuck do I get out of this one, 2 ounces of weed in my lap and he just saw me selling to the guy behind me. Im going to fucking jail, this cant be happening, what do I say? But then a miracle, a guy runs by butt ass naked and says fuck you to the cop. The cop goes tearing through the crowd trying to get after the guy as hundreds of people cheer him on. I look down into my lap and see the 2 ounces of herb that I thought were gonna screw me and can only stare in bewilderment. However ive got the shakes so bad at this point that I am incapable of rolling any more jibs so the task of jib rolling gos to Dave for the remainder of the evening and my shakes stick around for another hour.

Now people im tellin ya. I keep having these close calls all the time. At least once a month some shit gos down that scares the fuck out of me and it always involves weed or mushrooms. Now im not sure if this is an honest to god sign that Im meant to smoke weed. But i would think that if I wasnt meant too id have been cought by this point for sure. Not only that but Dave allways seems to be around when this shit happens. So I cant decide if hes good luck and thats why I dont get arrested, or if hes a jinx and thats why the cops always come around.
 
Jun 27, 2002
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#5
As a good samaritan, I heartily recommend drugs to you. These miraculous things have been proven to solve every problem on Earth or your money back. It's as simple as that. Some people believe drug dealers are merciless scoundrels, but that is simply not true. In reality, drug dealers are whimsical fellows who invented all sorts of friendly things, like pillows and sunday afternoons. The most common pastime of the drug dealer is to sit by the lake and dine on tea and scones; this is a Scientology proven fact, so there is no use arguing against it.

Drugs are a necessary addition to the life of anyone who isn't a flaming turd burgler. A respected Scientologist has recently proven that taking drugs is beneficial and healthy. You see, drugs are elite, and you are what you eat. Don't you want to be made of elite? Well now you can! All you have to do is freebase cocaine, and possibly inject heroin into your bloodstream. Don't worry if your vein collapses, as God has cleverly provided us with lots of different blood vessels to shoot up in. That guy is always one step ahead.

Once there was an urban myth that drugs kill people. Can you believe that? Some miscreant actually accused drugs of harming God's children. I will not stand for these ludicrous accusations. You can do as many drugs as you want for the timespan of forever, and you will still retain perfect health. Ozzy Osbourne is a shining example of this awesome fact. So basically what I am saying is drugs are a substitute for exercise and they have precisely zero negative effects. Unless you count "turn you into a rockstar" as a negative effect, which you well might if your name is Gary Glitter.

My next point about drugs is extremely important: drugs need to be glorified more in the movies. I know many movies feature horn-inducing women consuming all sorts of drugs, but it's just not enough. Kids need to learn at an early age that drugs are a friendly sort of thing, like a cartoon character or the alphabet. Hollywood already produces a stellar array of drug endorsements - like Charlie Sheen - but they could be doing more. For instance, a movie with "drugs" in the leading role would be a fine idea. I'm not sure what the plot would be, although I assume it would chiefly revolve around footage of a large pile of opium.

Once you're under the influence of drugs you will find that several things about the world are cooler in a fundamental way: you don't give a shit about them anymore. Trivial time wasters like "careers" and "love interests" will be brushed aside in your new quest to sit around and stare at a wall. Other great things about being a drug addict are "having no money," and who could forget the timeless classic "being hunted down by a dealer." Drugs are pound for pound the best thing that has ever happened to society. If something better comes along, like basketball mixed with hoverboards and naked chicks, then all you have to do is add drugs, and it will automatically become cooler.

I encourage people to take drugs before entering environments like "work" and "automobiles." If everyone was on drugs, then life would be a lot more straight forward. People would know their roles. Men would meet a female and they'd either have sex, or the man would make the female bring him food - like lions! This is obviously a more efficient and correct method of structuring society, as it allows me to get my own way.
 
Aug 20, 2003
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#7
The most common pastime of the drug dealer is to sit by the lake and dine on tea and scones; this is a Scientology proven fact, so there is no use arguing against it.

^^^ lmao