Murder the Clock

[mustynutz]

This last Saturday started off as any Saturday would. I was awoken by a knock at my bedroom door, and opened it to find my roommate offering me a blunt. We relocated to the living room, and continued to smoke while playing a few games of Madden. After getting my ass thoroughly beat, I hopped in the shower, got dressed, and left to go visit my parents (and leech off of their high speed connection). I spent some time surfing the net, and made the journey to my next stop, my dad's restaurant. After bullshitting with my dad and uncle for a while, I received a call from my roommate.

"Hello?"

"Yo dude you wanna shroom tonight?" I had never done shrooms before, and I was not one to miss out on a new experience

"Yeah whatever."

"Alright. Hurrup."

Eventually I made my way home, and the fun got started. My roommate Devin, our friend David, and I all ate half an eighth of these things with some Cheezits to mask the horrible taste of the shrooms. About half an hour later they kicked in. The TV screen started to look like it was made out of liquid, and black light above us started to drip some kind of purple liquid. I was able to keep control of reality by telling myself that all of this was just the shrooms, but this would not last long. I found myself playing with a quarter in my hand, and somehow I got the notion that the quarter represented reality. I would look at it and there it would be, unflawed and untouched by what my mind was doing to everything else around me. Then I dropped the quarter, and reality melted away. I'd love to tell you exactly what went on in the hours following, but I honestly don't know what was going on. Eventually I ended up in my bedroom, laying there watching my clothes move and my skin crawl. That is when my eyes were opened.

Suddenly, I noticed so many things I had never seen. I looked at myself, my life, and I was not happy. I looked around at my room, and I was disgusted. How could someone live like this? There were piles of clothes I had just thrown in a corner, various cups from late night snack runs, bills lying all over, DVD's and CD's piled up on my dresser, condom wrappers next to the bed, and my bathroom was even worse. It was at that exact moment I made a decision. Something had to change. After about an hour of cleaning(which was hard by the way, as anything I thought of as dirty would come to life and start crawling), my room and bathroom were finally clean. It was the happiest moment I had ever experienced. I made a promise to myself that night. I would change for the better.

I sit here now and I can tell you I feel great today. I have made the decision to stop smoking weed as much, limiting myself to weekends only, if at all. I will start going to the gym today, in order to get back into the shape I used to be. I am not eating fast food anymore, just the thought of it disgusts me now. I will keep my room clean, my house clean, and will strive to actually accomplish something each day. I have made these decisions to change, and the impact they have already made is immense. I woke up this morning fully energized, actually looking forward to getting out of bed. I came to work with a focus I have not had in months, and got so much done. For the first time in a while, I am having a great day, and am happy with myself. My life as I know it has ended, but it feels so great.

 

[mustynutz]

Whenever I'm in the mall, I see all sorts of 12 to 16 year olds with skateboards and roller-blades. These days, the term for these types of people are 'skaters' or 'punk-rockers'. Here they are thinking they've made up this cool new genre. I've got news for you.

I was a skater-boy before these kids were walking.

When I was 12 years old, I lived on an military base with my father. Since all of the military moms and dads want the weekends to themselves, the base had its own skating rink that the parents usually dumped us all off at on Saturday nights. From 7 to 10, I was the skating king. Around this time, half of the kids were adapting to this new thing called "rollerblades".

I could never get the grasp of "rollerblades". "Rollerblades" will never catch on, I thought to myself, it's just some stupid fad that will pass. Roller skates will always be better than "rollerblades", and don't ask me why I keep putting "rollerblades" in quotations.

I was the ultimate skater. I was practically the only one who could skate backwards, forward, sideways, and do the Musty patented "leg crissy crossy thingy" when I turn corners. Most of the kids were barely able to stand on their skates while I weaved between them, skating laps.

I took it serious, too. I brought my own towel and stopwatch, trying to improve my times each week. Nobody could touch me. I know what you're thinking-- "Sideburns, you were a fucking fag."

Yes, you're right. I was awesome. Wait, what'd you say?

I'll be the first to admit that at that age, skating was the only athletic thing I was into. My dad tried enrolling me into the youth basketball competition, but I soon learned that I couldn't hang with the other kids when I kept catching the ball with my face.

My dad would come outside and purposely make me stop skating so we could shoot some hoops. I wasn't the most coordinated kid, so when he tossed the ball to me, I'd catch it with my nose everytime. As I lay on the ground cringing in pain, he'd say "You're not supposed to catch it with your face!"

I gained revenge on him when I was 18 and we were lifting weights together.

"Justin, can you pass me the barbell?"

"Sure, catch!"

BAM! Right in the face.

"You're not supposed to catch it with your face, dad!"

Getting back on track--

An hour or two into the skating, the adults would sit us all down on the bleachers and have races. I was in the 11 to 15 age group. Every week was no different-- I'd win all my races and PWN in the finals. The 10 year old kids were afraid of their upcoming birthdays because they knew their days of winning were over. I was so good, that I'd skate backwards while the kid behind me struggled to skate forward. I taunted him all the way to the finish line.

Being the best of at least 100 kids every weekend, I managed quite the fanbase of girls and guys that just wanted to be around me. One night in particular, I was lacing up my skates when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

"What'd I tell you about touching me while I'm strapping up? I'm in the zone, bitch!"

"No, Justin! Look! That guy walking through the door-- That's Josh Smith. He moved here from Texas. I heard he's the best rollerblader in the world."

"Pshhhh. Nothing's better than these babies", I said as I slipped the ankle velcro over my old school roller skates.

I jumped up on my skates, executing a perfect front flip. I started skating the designated direction around the cones just like I do everyweek, gliding through the kids that can't hang with me. A few minutes into my skating routine, someone glided by me. I turned my head and saw that it was the new kid, Josh-- and his rollerblades.

Time to show this kid how we do it. Durrty south style, fo' real.

With Josh were a group of about 10 of his friends who skated in a big group together. I had my faithful friends by my side. I skated up to him and spun to a cool stop.

"Sup, that's what I call my spinny stoppy thingy. What you got?"

"You must be Justin. I've heard alot about you."

"Yeah, I'm the best skater around these here parts."

I highfived my friends. I just said the coolest thing ever.

"Not anymore", Josh blurted out. He high-fived his friends. He just said the coolest thing ever.

"Is that a challenge, skippy?"

"It's on, Justin."

I started spinning around and around, not stopping. Josh did the same. After several minutes, we both came to a synchronized stop. This kid's not bad. Time to bust out the big guns. I hopped up and down on one skate, then speed-skated to the end of the arena and back, coming to a sliding stop on my knees in front of him.

He did the same, only better. Then he challenged me to the ultimate duel. "Death spin?"

"It's the only way to see who's better."

I grabbed his hands and we started twirling around really fast. Eyeing each other. The first person to fall or let go as the pace picked up was the loser.

All of the kids saw this as the ultimate challenge between the two coolest kids in the skating arena.

I'm assuming the adults were wondering who those two faggot kids were holding hands and spinning around.

What seemed like hours passed and neither of us budged, we kept spinning. Then finally, we both came to a stop. There was no winner. The only way to prove who was the better skater was in the races. We were in the same age group, so I had to defend my title.

My age group was called up. I won my first two with ease, anticipating facing Josh in the finals. When it came down to it, there were two left. Me and him.

"Hey, you two boys that like to spin together. Get on the line, you're both in the finals."

Two left. One must win. Who will claim the title of 'skater-boy' for the next week? This race would decide.

"Ready, set, GO!"

Josh, being the first to get on the line, had the advantage with the inside line. So obviously, he took the early lead. He led the first lap, I was right behind him on the second. Shit, one more lap to go and I'm far behind. He was starting to gain a lead on me.

When he rounded the final turn, he lost his balance and landed flat on his back. I saw this as not only an opportunity to win, but the chance to win gracefully while making him look bad. I was going to attempt to jump over him and glide over the finish line. I lifted my skates and flew through the air. I didn't exactly jump over him. Actually, from someone elses' view, it looked like I purposely jumped in the air and came down to squash him with my skates.

"OW! MY ARM! MY ARM! AHHHHHHHHH!"

His screams echoed through the arena. I laid beside him, the wind knocked out of me from the fall. Looking at his arm, it was obvious that I broke it. He screamed in agony as two or three adults ran over to him to check him out. The kids all stayed seated on the bleachers.

"Justin, what the heck did you just do? Why'd you try to kill him?"

I just laid there, looking on in horror at what I'd done. I did what any self-respecting human being would have done.

I got up and skated to the finish line, then celebrated with my routine Safety Dance as everyone stared on in disgust.

They're just jealous because I'm the ultimate skater.

 

[mustynutz]

"What's going on over here?! We've got a call that you guys are causing a disturbance around the neighborhood, here!"

"Nah, no sir. We coo. We's just chillin'." said the young black male as he crossed his arms in front of his shirt.

"Someone called and said that someone out here was shooting a gun! And what's that on your shirt? Is that blood!?"

"Nah man. Dat's... uh.. dat's Kool-Aid."

"Oh, well okay then. What's that sticking out of your waistband? That's a gun, son!"

"Nah, man. Dat's uh... dat's a candy bar."

Officer Larry was beginning to get suspicious.

"Turn around and put your hands ontop of your head."

As he patted the young man down, he pulled the supposed candy bar out of his pants as well as a knife and three ziploc bags with unkown substances.

"What's this? Is this a controlled substance?"

"Nah dawg. Das medicines. For my mums. I was carrying it in my pocket and the pills musta accidentlly been busted up."

"Oh, okay then."

With that said, Officer Larry looked over into the young black man's yard. In the middle of the grass is a woman laying there in a white shirt--soaked in a red substance. Officer Larry looked the young man in the eye.

"Now you had better be able to explain that."

"Yeah dawg. See, what had happened was-- she was drankin' some Kool-aid with me. But she likes to mix alcohol with her Kool-aid. She kept spilling the fruit punch Kool-aid all over her shirt then she finally passed out right there in that spot."

"Is that all?"

"Oh yea. Her heart stopped beatin'. And she started leakin' Koolaid out of this hole that's in her chest, dawg."

Officer Larry understood. After all, he was very gullible and would probably believe anything spewed his way by this young man.

"Okay, well-- I believe you. I don't want to wake her up because I would hate for someone to wake me up if I were passed out from drinking Vodka and Koolaid all night. I'll just take your word for it. What I'm going to do now is give you back your candybar and your mother's medicine, then all I need to do is run your name to see if you have any outstanding warrants. If you don't, then you're free to go. Since I didn't find any ID on you, what's your full name?"

"Roscoe P. Coldtrain."

"Okay Mr. Coldtrain, I'm not THAT stupid. What's your real name?"

"Terrell Wilson."

After running a warrant check on Terrell, it turned out he was wanted for robbery, murder, and many other felony charges-- including escaping from prison several days earlier. As much as Officer Larry didn't want to ruin Terrell's Koolaid party, he had to take him in.

For any other officer, this would have been an easy task. Put him in the patrol car and drop him off at the station. This is Officer Larry we're talking about. After placing Terrell in the car, it was going to be a long night.

"Hey dawg, I'm HONgry. Can we stop by Mickey D's?"

"Son, you're under arrest. I cannot do that."

"Please mayne?! I'll buy yours too!"

"NO! I could lose my badge for doing something that stupid. Sit back and shutup."

***

"Yeah, let me get, uh, a Big Mac combo and ... what do you want Terrell? And let me have a grilled chicken filet with a Coke. Okay Terrell, I could lose my job for this. So after you eat your food, throw all the contents out of the window--which is illegal too, but nobody's perfect."

"Hey dawg, put the radio station on RAP 98.1!"

"I draw the line at the radio station. We're not allowed to cruise with the radio on while we're transporting criminals to the jailhouse. Sit back and shutup until we get to the police station!"

***

Terrell: "ROLLIN' DOWN THE STREET..."
Larry: "SMOKIN' ENDO!!"
Both: "SIPPIN' ON GIN AND JUICE!!"

Officer Larry could get into big trouble for this, not only did he take a convict to McDonald's, but he's now riding down the street with Terrell in the passenger seat-- both, by the way, were smoking Terrell's mom's medicine.

"Hot damn, Terrell! This song is, how do you say? The pimping shizzle?!"

Yup, Officer Larry was definitely out of a job.

 

[mustynutz]

Has anyone ever accused you of being a pedophile? Until yesterday, I can say that nobody has accused me of being a little girl lover. Hell, I'm still a kid myself, there's no way anyone in their right mind can accuse a 20 year old of being a pedophilic maniac. Until now.

Ever since my mother had her heart attack early last year, I've had to move back home to help take care of things. This means doing small chores-- i.e. taking my sister to and from school, making dinner for the family, taking care of the house, etc. Usually I have no problems on my way to pick my sister up from school. Yesterday was a little different.

As I was sitting outside the school in my car waiting on class to get out, I noticed a little girl, no more than 10 years old, walking from car to car selling World's Finest Chocolate bars. That was low, the mother knew these people couldn't turn their daughter down, especially while they're trapped in a school parking lot, so she sends her daughter to go sell this shit-- Probably to support mommy's drug habit.

As the girl nears my car, I pretend to look the other way because I don't want to buy any chocolate--besides, I'm a cheap bastard. Oh, not to mention my driver's side windown won't roll down because the electric motor isn't working. She gets to my car and just stands at my door with her little box of chocolates, staring at me. I shrug my shoulders as if to say that I'm not interested. She doesn't budge. She just stands there--stares. What kind of chocolate selling nazi camp did this girl attend? She's good.

Finally I need to tell her that I don't want to buy any chocolate, so I open my door, seeing as how my window won't roll down. As SOON as I open my door, a large woman jumps out of her Lexus SUV and starts running toward my car.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!! Where the hell do you think you're going with my daughter?!?"

"What are you talking about? I was just opening the door to--"

"I KNOW WHAT YOU WERE DOING!! You fucking pedophile!!"

"I was just-- wait... what the hell did you just call me?! I suggest you take those words back, I'm NOT in a good mood. If you'd LISTEN to me then you'd understand why--"

"OFFICER!"

Okay, this bitch accused me of being a little girl lover, won't let me tell WHY I opened my door, now is calling over the school's resource officer. If you were in this situation, would you not be pissed? Yes, you would be ready to throw some bows and bust some heads at this point. I was far beyond that.

As the officer approaches, I try to explain why I opened my door. "You don't understand lady, my window won't roll down! I didn't want a candy bar!"

"I know what you want! You want my little girl!"

At this point I throw my arms in the air because I can't reason with this rich bitch who's assuming I want her 10 year old daughter. I think she's the sicko. Plus, her daughter was about 120 pounds. Even if I were a demented pedophile, I'd at least have good taste and pick a cute little girl.

As I'm throwing my arms in the air, the officer starts yelling at me to put my arms down and starts running toward me. He slams his body against me and pushes my side into my car. He then tells me to put both hands ontop of the car and not to move.

"Oh shit, please don't tell me I'm being arrested for this bullshit."

Ms. Bitch has to throw in her two cents-- "Did you hear that officer? This pedophile just cussed in front of my little girl!"

"What the hell?" I said, "You were cussing up a storm a second ago with her right by your side!"

The officer instructs me to shut my mouth or I will be arrested. Oh, just in case you didn't know-- this attracted a whole crowd of people to gather around. There I was with my hands ontop of my car while the stupid bitch mom tells her side of the story.

In the end, I explained the story (FINALLY) to the officer and even showed him my window. He actually laughed after he came the the conclusion that I was telling the truth. I hate him. He told the woman to go back to her car and with that said, I got back into mine.

Not only that, but the bitch didn't apologize to me at ALL. In fact, she kept giving me dirty looks every time she turned around. When I was pulling off the school campus and onto the road, she happened to be behind me waiting to get out. She drives AROUND me and cuts me off. Needless to say, my day was fucked by this bitch.

 

[mustynutz]

Thump.

My eyes opened slowly as I tried to collect my thoughts.

Thump. Badump.

I looked over at my alarm clock. 3:30 A.M. What the hell is that noise?

Crash.

My heart jumped as I quickly reached over and turned my lamp on. I looked around the room and then focused on my dresser. I noticed that my stereo had been knocked over. I reached under my bed and grabbed my baseball bat as I slowly got out of bed. My curtains were blowing from the wind-- someone had snuck into my room. I heard a sneeze; this person was in my closet. I held my bat behind my head as I quickly pulled the door open and swung, hitting the person that was inside my closet.

Clunk.

The long haired person dressed in a long white robe came crashing down on my bedroom floor.

"Damn", I thought to myself. "This is the third homeless guy to sneak into my house in the past year."

I picked up my phone and prepared to call the police when the homeless man spoke.

"Ouch. That one hurt."

"Don't you move! I'll swing again!"

"The person stood to his feet as a ray of light came beaming from his body."

"Hola mi amigo. Me llama Jesús. Tu tienes seleccionado para ensamblarme en cielo. Venido con mí."

"What the fuck? A glowing Spanish homeless guy?!"

"Damn. I always fuck it up. Sorry, I just came from Mexico. It's confusing. Hey, I'm Jesus, God's son. You've been selected to join us in Heaven. This is the rapture and I've come to take you with me, Bart Cilfone."

"Bart? Oh-- you've got the wrong guy. My name's Justin. I'm bad. I'm going to Hell."

"Damn. My bad. Ouch, my head hurts. Even if you were a good kid and believed in my father, you'd go to hell just for clocking Jesus with a baseball bat."

"Haha, yea. But you have to admit, Satan would love me for that."

Jesus laughed nervously as he sat on my bed. I felt somewhat bad for the guy, all he was trying to do was sneak into peoples' houses and send them to Heaven and I just bashed his face in with a bat. I stood there as Jesus rubbed his forehead, now embedded with the 'Louisville Slugger' logo. I got Jesus some ice for his lump and talked to him for a few hours. We decided that, since he'd been dead for 2000 years, that maybe he should hang out with me for a day--to see what he had missed out on.

"Ok bud, first stop is the mall. You can't go to parties dressed like that unless it's a toga party. Everybody knows that only gay guys go to toga parties."

I took Jesus shopping thinking I'd have to pay for his new wardrobe, but apparently he had his own way of paying. He paid for everything in pure gold.

"Justin, I'm going to go change in the bathroom. You tell me if what I have on is the pimping shizzle."

Jesus walked out of the bathroom with his hair in a ponytail, white t-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket. I looked down at his feet--

"Dude, you're wearing flip flops?"

"Well yea. That's all I've ever worn. Didn't you read my biography?"

"You have a biography?"

"The Bible, genius."

We showed up at a huge frat party. Jesus looked a little nervous but soon began warming up to everyone. He told some funny jokes and all the ladies seemed to be interested. I, on the other hand, didn't have any ladies on my arm.

Word of advice: Don't go partying with Jesus-- He'll get all the chicks anyway.

"Jesus! I know you're loving the party! How come you're not drinking or smoking weed? You need to relax and enjoy yourself!"

"Oh.. no. I can't. My dad won't like the idea of that."

"Why not? We won't tell him!"

"He's God. He sees all."

"Oh yea, that's right. Hey, weed is all natural-- you can do that!"

"You're right! I can! Let me hit that shit!"

Jesus sat down and started inhaling the pleasance that is reefer. After a few tokes, he was dead stoned. "Hey watch this!". With that said, Jesus walked over to a guy passed out on the floor. He then pulled his pants down and sat on the guy's face.

"Hurry! Somebody take a picture of this! This guy has the testicles of Jesus in his face, he's one lucky some of a bitch! Hurry, take the picture! I can't squat like this for long!"

Jesus was having a ball. After a while, he even started drinking beer.

"I swear to Dad! This is the most awesome party I've ever been to."

Jesus' confidence grew as the party continued. He was the life of it. He was walking around talking to everyone. At one point during the party, he walked upstairs with three girls. When I later asked him how he got in bed with three girls at once, he said he used the pickup line-- "Hey ladies. I'm Jesus."

Didn't work so well with me.

The good news is that I showed Jesus a good time. The bad news is that he couldn't finish the rapture and he was busted by his dad. He was grounded for another 2000 years. So, the good news is that I saved Earth.

You're welcome.

 

[mustynutz]

We've all been to Goodwill. Some of us venture into the second-hand store out of curiosity, others because we like saving money, some because that's the only place we can actually afford to buy our clothing. I like finding good deals, so I'll go there once every few months to find a few t-shirts. Besides going to work all week, this was my only trip out to do something for myself, so I was going to enjoy it damnit.

As I entered the store, there was only one person in there. It was a black woman who was about 40 something. I assumed she worked there. I ventured over to the men's shirts and started digging through the piles. I read alot of the sayings on the shirts--

"I Took The Pepsi Challenge in '98!"

"Walk For The Cure '96"

Damn. All of these shirts I was looking through were expired.

I'm a fan of college t-shirts. I found a Clemson football t-shirt and pulled it off the rack and looked at it, then noticed it was a 2XL. Too big. I placed it back where I got it when I heard something behind me..

"Excuse me son! What do you think you're doing?"

I was already in a pissed off mood that day. I don't know why. I just woke up pissed off, so I wasn't in any mood to be nice to some crazy bitch.

"I'm shopping, actually. This is a store, and I tend to come in here during open hours and browse around. If something suits my taste, I'll usually purchase this item, have it placed into a bag and go on my happy way. What are you doing?". I said this with a forced smile and in a very sarcastic way.

"Uh uhhh. Oh no this white boy DID NOT!"

I kid you not, the stereotypical African American slang comes into play here.

"Aight listen to me boy. This is my sto'. I run dis' hea sto'. I suggest you don't get no *attitude* with me ya hear?" She rolled her head in a circle when she said 'attitude'.

"I don't know what your problem is with me but--"

"That sure don't go there! It goes ova hea!". She grabs the shirt from me and places it on another rack. After explaining to her that I got it from the rack that I was putting it back on, she still continued with her attitude.

"You gettin' a attitude with me in hea?! Aw hell naw! It's a cuz I'ma black ain't it?"

I was stunned. Did she just verbally attack me for being a racist? Was she not the one that called me a 'white boy' just moments earlier? Okay that's it, time to throw in some sarcasm...

"Uh... You know what? Yes. It's because you're black. It has nothing to do with the fact that you called me a 'white boy' or the fact that you approached me in a total unprofessional manner. It has nothing to do with your incredibly loud voice or your disrespect toward me. I'm not getting an attitude with you because you got one with me first, nope. It's because you're black."

I think I got across to her that racism isn't in my blood. My point is proven. I actually started to think this woman had a working brain when she retorts--

"Aight nigga. I ain't need no racism in my sto'. White boy, get whateva yo' white ass is gon' get and get out' my damn sto'."

I didn't say a word. I was dealing with a complete moron. I grabbed a few shirts and headed to the register to check out-- but Queen Latifah was at the register and I had to go thru her one more time. She didn't say a word to me as she rang up my $1 dollar t-shirts and threw them into the bag. I then noticed something about her nametag. In one last attempt to try to create some sort of friendly bond with this woman, I initiated conversation again--

"Hey, your name tag says 'Bowers'. That's my last name too."

Big big big big big mistake.

"Wutchu say to me? You sayin' just 'cuz we have the same last name that yo' grandparents had my grandparents as slaves? I didn't work my ass off for the white man to be bringin' up the slavery. So wut we have ths same last name? You think you *OWN* me now? (insert the head move thing). Get yo' white racist ass outta my sto'!"

 

[mustynutz]

Yes, you read the title right. 'That guy took my Kool-Aid'. 'Stealing juice' is too cliche and overused. So whenever someone steals the limelight, you must make a comment about them jacking your kool-aid from you. I'll let you choose the flavor. Who took my kool-aid, you ask?

That guy.

No, not ''that guy'' made famous by the Uber post, but ''that guy''. The perfect guy. The guy that can wake up in the morning after not taking a shower for 3 days, not brush his hair and still go to work/school looking perfect (No, not Tom). This ''guy'' has perfect hair, the perfect face, and is always taller than you. This guy always is more muscular than you. This guy knows this and flexes his muscles right in front of me.

I'm not the best looking guy in the world, I don't have the most money, and I don't have the most glamorous job. I work in a locally owned restaurant. Ladies, hot yet? Wait until you hear this-- I make a little more than minimum wage. Yea that's right.. MORE than minimum wage. Unfortunately, those little kids in Indonesia that sew our company shirts make more than me.

Today, a Clemson college girl walked in. She was blonde and just-- perfect. I knew I had her once she saw how efficient I could scrape the goo of the side of the ice machine. If that didn't make her hot, I knew the grease on my shirt would-- or even my stubbly face that I hadn't shaved in 2 weeks. I had that whole ''Greasy ice machine scrubbing mountain man'' look going on.

Long story short, this college girl and I ended up talking for about an hour while I scrubbed trays. She agreed to show up tonight when I got off work to catch a bite with me. Awesome! I decided to leave her alone and let her eat. As I was standing behind the counter and minding my own business, some tall dude walks through the door. I'm not gay, but I knew that if I were to compete with him, he'd stomp my ass.

He gets his food and sits down RIGHT ACROSS from the girl that agreed to meet me after work. He comments on her eyes, and next thing you know, he's sitting with her-- she ends up leaving with him. Mr. Muscle-Man wins again. By the way, she never showed when I got off work.

It's time for all of us average guys to unite. I'm sick of using my personality, whit, and charm and FINALLY winning a girl over when Mr. Muscle can come along and make his boobs dance and take her.

He took my Kool-Aid.

 

[mustynutz]

I've gotten a few offers from people for me to move in with them. I'm going to be moving to Orlando, Florida sometime within the next couple of months. I was supposed to move in with two other guys, but that fell through. I now have to find my own place, but I won't be able to afford rent and bills by myself. What better way to search for a roommate than to ask random strangers whom you've never met before?! So, if you're willing to move to Florida with me and get an apartment, please respond.

I've had two other roommates my entire life, and I have a few guidelines to set based on their actions. If you are interested and meet the following guidelines, feel free to contact me:

1. I'm a male. When I wake up in the morning and sit down to eat my cereal, I'd rather not see another fully naked male walking two feet in front of me. While I'm at work, feel free to get as naked as you want. But please, please, PLEASE don't sit on the leather couch.

2. Bringing home women is fine. Take her into your room and do your thing with her. But please, do not sit her ontop of the kitchen counter, kitchen table, or coffee table and proceed to have sex with her. If you do have sex with her on the kitchen table, please remind me. I tend to sent my sandwich on the bare kitchen table to save using plates. If both of you are naked, once again, feel free to walk around. Remind your guest not to sit her bare ass on the leather couch.

3. I do not do all of the chores. Do not think I'm your maid, I'm your roommate.

4. My room is my property. You're not my dad. You may be my 35 year old roommate, but you can't tell me to clean my room or ''I can't have a girl over this weekend."

5. You know those little post-it notes on my TV dinners that say ''JUSTIN'S FOOD. DO NOT TOUCH''? Yeah, seriously, don't touch it.

5B. Don't make fun of me because I buy Kids Cuisines and Lunchables. When I'm at work and eating them, I get bored and like to do the puzzles. Besides, those mini burgers are awesome.

6. Please don't let random women you meet over the internet move in with us unless you consult me first.

7. The answer is no if this woman has kids who eat up all of my food. If you do let a redneck woman whom you've met online move in, make sure her kids can read the post-it notes on my fucking food.

8. Do not drink Sprite from the bottle. I wouldn't notice if your chewing tobacco hadn't backwashed into the 2 liter.

9. If I give you money for my half of the rent, I suggest you put it TOWARD THE RENT. Not going out and getting drunk at a bar. Also, if you do happen to get a letter from the mortgage company telling the occupants to vacate the premises within 30 days, please TELL ME!

10. If you're going to set the place on fire, make sure I'm already moved out. Also make sure that you listen to me when I tell you that the insurance company will know you're trying to claim a fraud. Please be informed that I'm not going to lie to the local police when they come to my door asking where you are.(P.S. sorry about that).

11. If you've already been my previous roommate, no you cannot move in with me within the next 10 to 15 years. I'm sure your new roommate Tyrone will give you all the attention you need.

 

[mustynutz]

I'm going to be moving to Japan in a few short months, but until then, I'm stuck with my mother. I was recently forced to move into a new home with her even though I'm moving again in a couple weeks. My mom's only motivation for moving to this new area was to be near my Aunt Correen. I'm not very familiar with Aunt Correen, and I've only lived in this new house for less than a week, but she's already getting on my fucking nerves.

The new phone line was just hooked up today, so that means I've been sitting on my ass all week with no internet and no cable tv. This new place sucks, the television won't even pick up the local channels. The only channel that comes in clear enough is Church TV. I'd sit and watch this religious channel for hours on end, and it doesn't sound so bad. Claim Jesus as my savior, get to Heaven. I'm seriously thinking about taking Jesus up on his offer. Contrary to popular belief, watching Christians talk about God for several days straight does get boring. I decided to rent a shitload of DVDs from Blockbuster. Things were going pretty damn well, my only ambition when I woke up was to watch movies. How fucking awesome is that?!

So there I am, watching 'The Real Cancun' when my mom walks in with my Aunt Correen. By the way, I recommend 'The Real Cancun' to anyone who is tired of your average cliche ''good movie''. Aunt Correen respected me and said to my mom, "He's watching tv, we have to be quiet". Her voice is the scariest thing in the world. It's a cross between the Crypt Keeper and Marge's sisters from the Simpsons. It's a shot in the dark, but I think it's the 3 packs of cigarettes she smokes a day. God bless the woman, 72 years old and still... well... alive. So I'm sitting there, trying to watch the wet t-shirt scene while Aunt Correen starts talking to the dog, the only problem is that she was loud as hell. No problem, I'll just turn up the tv. Aunt Correen takes the initiative and starts talking to THE DOG about the movie.

"This is a good movie, ain't it boy? Yes it is! You like bikini girls? Huh? I think Justin wants us to shutup so he can watch his little movie. Yes he does."

Yes, I do. Now with all due respect Aunt Correen, shut the fuck up. I know the woman's 72 years old and has emphezema, but I'm sure somewhere along her lifespan someone has told her that she should shut the fuck up when someone's trying to watch The Real Cancun.

Yesterday when the phone line wasn't hooked up yet, Aunt Correen came over to test it. I politely explained that it wasn't supposed to be hooked up until tomorrow but she refused to believe it. To show her that she was wrong I hooked up the phone to it and showed her that there was no dial tone. For some reason, she thought my phone was messed up so she brought her phone over, hooked it up and then reported her findings:

"Well, there's no dial tone. I told you Justin".

Am I the only person who wants to strangle this woman? In other news, my new neighbors aren't your average American families.

To one side we have an elderly man who only talks about his ex wife cheating on him..

"In the summer of 1976 I caught her in bed with my best friend. I pulled out that shotgun and scared the shit out of both of 'em. That's when I decided to move us to South Carolina. I shoulda known she was cheating on me again when we moved to another state and we still had the same mailman".

On the other side is another elderly man. He doesn't tell good stories though, the only thing worth mentioning about him is his homosexuality. Yes indeed, he's seventy something years old and loves anal sex with men. He's proud of his dick-fancying choices, too. His first sentence to everyone he meets is "Hi, I'm Al. I'm old and gay." This old deep sea anal diver actually had the nerve to hit on me the other night. I went over to borrow some DVDs and he proceeds to advance onto me:

"Boy, if I was younger I'd put you on a stick and eat you up like a corndog".

There's something uncomforting about a grandpa wanting to bone you in the ass.


Ahh, thank you 'Cancun' DVD.....

 

[m.w.merlino]

I can HEAVILY relate to the shroom experience.

 

[mustynutz]

yeah the last time i did shrooms it really made me realize a lot about my life....it really made reality clearer and was a positive experience....i think i need to do them again