TIME KILLAZ FO FRIDAY MUFFUCKAS !!!!

[mustynutz]

hadn't hung out with my friends in quite a long while, so last weekend was my time to enjoy myself and kick back with my buddies. Daryl, being the only one besides me with his own place, decided to host the get together.

Actually, it's his way of logical thinking. "If I get laid, I don't have to take the girl home. My room's right upstairs."

Daryl, also being the logical thinker he is, assumes that I'm going to bring all the girls.

Firstly, I don't have many problems getting women, but at the same time-- I'm not a fucking pimp. Do you expect to call me up and 5 minutes later I burst through your door with about 15 women?! I'm not Snoop Dogg.

I may not be a pimp on the playing field, but when I get in bed, it's a whole different story. I can only think of one problem I've had with a girl in bed, and that was when the girl told me to take off her panties--

And to never wear her underwear again.

So Daryl expects me to bring the girls, which I fail horribly at. I could only get ahold of Fat Jennifer and her friend, Intertube Tracy. Basically, Tracy likes to wear tight belly shirts. Unfortunately, she's somewhat big around the midsection, so when she wears a tight shirt, her skin sticks out all around and it looks like she's wearing an intertube.

"How did Fat Jennifer get her name, Sideburns?"

Good question. It's because she's fat.

Oh, she's really nice too. Unfortunately, Really Nice Jennifer didn't have a ring to it.

The guy to girl ratio was WAY off. Let me put it this way, if you planned on having a hotdog barbecue, most people wouldn't be getting a bun with their hotdog.

So there I was at the International House of Hotdog, when in walked the hottest girl I had seen in a long time.

Blonde hair. Petite. Tan. I was determined to make her interested in me. Unfortunately, so was every other guy at the party.

Poor Jennifer and Tracy. It's a sad sight when the only two girls at a party are making out in their underwear with each other and nobody even notices.

Long story short, after I saved myself from my initial first impression, I got her number. You see, when I first went up to her, I imagined in my head that I'd say "What's up, slut?", then she'd jump in my arms and I'd whisk her away.

"What's up, slut?"

Oops. Didn't mean to say that. Never let Jack Daniels talk for you, he's not as smooth a player as he brags about.

She agreed to go out with me this past Saturday night. All I had to do was show up at her house at 7 and we'd decide what to do then.

Friday evening arrived. I had to decide what to wear. I went through a very delicate, selective procedure to decide what I'd be donning as my outfit that evening. I don't want to go too much into detail, but I call it the "does this stink too much to wear again?" test.

After admiring myself in the mirror for several minutes, I decided it was time to get dressed.

I walked out to my car and turned the key.

Nothing. Shit.

Think fast, think fast. I ran over to the only friend I had made in my new apartment complex, Adam, and banged on his door. I really didn't want to borrow his car for very simple reasons, but it was a necessity.

After much explaining, Adam finally gave in and let me borrow his car. He's a cool guy, except for the part where he wants to have sex with me.

Yes, Adam is my only gay friend. The main reason I didn't want to borrow his car is because the license plate says 'H0M0GUY'. HOMOGUY was already taken, so he subsituted zeros for the o's.

After removing the beads and dildo hanging from his rearview mirror, I headed on my way.

The date went smoothly. I took the girl(whose name I won't mention due to my own safety-- read on to find out why) out to eat, we walked around in the park, and had a decent time. We jumped back in the car to head to our next destination. I decided I'd strike up conversation--

"So, is this your first year of college?"

"Yeah, it's a little weird. Everybody's older than me."

"That's okay. You're just a freshman."

"True, but I was skipped up a few grades a couple years back, so even the freshmen are older than me."

"Wait, how old are you?"

"16."

Keep in mind, as she's saying this, her hand is inching toward my crotch. Unfortunately for me, Captain Winky had no problem that the girl was underage. I, on the other hand, did.

"Whoa! I think we need to get you home!"

You know, before the FBI locks me up for a life sentence.

"What? Why? I thought the date was going great! I at least wanna have sex with you!"

Yes!

Wait. NO!

I FINALLY got her home and, seeing as how I wasn't getting any action tonight, decided to go downtown and get drunk. I hit it off instantly with one other guy in the bar, we talked for at least an hour, and of course, I got really drunk.

"Dude, I think I love you, man!"

He looked at me funny. "I don't float like that, sorry bro."

"No! I'm not gay!"

"Oh okay, just checking. Hey, can you take me home? I'm a little drunk."

We eventually made our way outside the bar and started talking, when again, my alcohol started talking for me. You see, I'm one to make suggestive gay jokes-- even though I'm pretty sure I don't like the cock.

"Wanna go home and fuck?"

Shutup alcohol.

"Dude, I'm not gay!" he said as I walked toward my car.

"I know! Neither am I!"

This is when he looked down and noticed the tag on the car I was borrowing. "H0M0GUY". After much explaining, I think I convinced him that I still wasn't gay. Unfortunately, after he hopped into the passenger seat, he sat on something.

Damnit, I should've put that dildo under the seat.

Needless to say, I didn't get any action that night

 

[mustynutz]

Around my home, there are many small things that I need to buy. For example, I need batteries for my remote and I need a new toothbrush. Whenever I went to bed at night, I'd always watch an hour or two of TV before falling asleep. It's really convenient to have a remote to change the channels from the comfort of under the sheets, but it doesn't do me any good if it doesn't have batteries. I always forget to buy batteries.

"I'll buy some tomorrow", I think to myself. But then again, I've been saying that for about 6 months.

Last weekend, I came up with a solution to save me money. I rolled my TV stand to the foot of my bed. Not only is the TV closer, but I can change the channel with my big toe. I must say, the leg exercise I'm getting is tremendous. I can feel my muscles tighten with each channel change. Not only do I get to exercise, but I have to lift my leg even if I don't want to if I want to change the channel that bad. It's an exercise routine I can't get out of.

I'm a genius.

About a year ago, whenever I got change back from a cashier from a purchase, I'd usually tell her to keep the change or I'd just discard the 3 pennies with the receipt. Someone told me to save all my change and I'd be surprised how much I had by the end of the year. I recently counted the change I had in a big glass jar, the total amazed me-- $485.84.

Almost 500 bucks I've been throwing away every year. Let's say that on average, I toss out a total of $475 each year since I've had a paying job. If I do the math right, that means I've been throwing away..

Calculating in my head--

ALOT of money.

I was driving home from my income tax training class the other day when I was pulled over by a cop. I was dressed very nice. I was fully decked out in a suit and tie, my sideburns were even shaved off.

"Son, do you know why I pulled you over?"

"Because you're newly assigned to this area and you need directions to the nearest Dunkin' Donuts?"

The officer didn't find my joke too funny, which pretty much ensured that I was going to get a ticket. I tried to straighten up and act serious when I figured out he didn't play games. But I couldn't help but giggle when I noticed his name badge said Officer Duncan.

Mr. Duncan Donuts asked me if I had anything illegal in the car, which threw me off guard.

Word of advice: Don't sarcastically tell a cop that you're a drug dealer and that you've got several kilos of marijuana and cocaine in the trunk. He will search your car while you lay on your stomach, helplessly cuffed.

...And you will pay a huge fine for making the joke.

I'm 20 years old, still a kid in the eyes of most-- especially my mother. She hadn't seen my new apartment yet, so she decided to come over and check it out. She noticed the bottles of alcohol I had above the sofa for decoration.

"Justin, what is that??"

"It's just for decoration."

"I don't care, take that down."

"What? It's my apartment!"

"Don't argue with me! I'm your mother!"

"I understand that, but I'm an adult. You can't come in here and tell me how to decorate my own place."

"Don't argue with me, I said! I've been there for you your whole life and you think you can treat me like shit?! I was there when you were born!"

"Of course you were! Where the hell else would you be?"

"That's IT! Go to your room!"

"But mom-- it's my--"

"NOW!"

"Yes ma'am."

I was actually waiting on her to call my father over to give me the "it hurts me more than it hurts you" speech while taking off his belt.

My 15 year old cousin got that same speech from her father, but he took off more than his belt. Don't worry folks, he's in jail.

I was at a yardsale recently and noticed the Hungry Hungry Hippo game, still in the wrapper! When I asked the lady about it, she told me that she bought it for her son for Christmas....

in 1991... and he never opened it, so she just held onto it.

After arriving home with anticipation of competing in a one-player Hungry Hungry Hippo competition, I had every intention of annihilating the other hippos-- seeing as how they weren't going to be eating any marbles. To my dismay, the marbles WEREN'T INCLUDED!

After crying for several minutes, knowing that my weekend fun is now ruined, I set out to find some Hungry Hungry Hippo marbles. Hmmmm. WAL-MART!

"Excuse me, can you point me toward the marbles?"

"I'm sorry, we stopped carrying marbles. Too many children have been swallowing them, so they were claimed hazardous and we removed them from our shelves years ago."

Damn moms complaining. Just because one child eats a marble, somebody has to complain to Wal-Mart and make sure that nobody gets any marbles. If only I had been there to tell her that her kid's a fucking idiot, or perhaps note that she needs to FEED HER KID!

I found out that marbles weren't the only toy removed from Wal-Mart shelves. A few years ago, a wrestling figure was removed. The wrestler, "Al Snow", carried around a mannequin head as his gimmick. His action figure included a replica mannequin head.

Well, women complained that it was depicting violence against females and the toy was removed. Thank God Wal-Mart removed the toy, or else kids everywhere would be ripping the heads off mannequins, creating worldwide panic.

I was going to write a letter to Wal-Mart, demanding that the figure be put back on the shelves, but I was distracted by lifelike Incredible Hulk toy hands.

I'm currently in the process of writing a letter to Marvel Comics, insisting they stop production on the toy before kids everywhere decide to have fun and play.

I went home and checked the messages on my answering machine...

"Justin! It's your grandma! Pick up....."

She'll stay silent for 5 minutes.

"Helloooo? Pick up! ...... Pick up!"

Grandma obviously doesn't know that an answering is used for when I'm not able to get to the phone or when I'm not home. Apparently she thinks I sit around and wait for all my calls to be answered by the machine.

Back onto my marble quest, I looked at the instructions included in the Hungry Hungry Hippo game itself and found a number. Nobody could be reached for comment, so I dialed some random Chinese number.

After some confusing conversation, the elderly chinese lady on the telephone told me that Hungry Hungry Hippo marbles couldn't be purchased anymore seeing as how the game was out of production.

Word of advice, listen to your Chinese grandmothers-- they're very wise. And if you don't have a Chinese grandmother, call one.

 

[mustynutz]

For the past few weeks, I've been on a somewhat lucky streak. Everywhere I go, good things have been happening to me. For example, when I was walking down the block the other day, a piano fell on the guy behind me. Poor guy. I felt sorry for him because he was so dazed that it gave me enough time to grab his watch and wallet.

I was taking a run through the park last weekend when I noticed an envelope on the ground. I scraped it up as I ran past it and tucked it into my shorts. When I got home, I pulled it out. On the envelope was written "Laquisha's rent money". Inside was $400 dollars. Poor Laquisha. I'm willing to bet she got evicted for not paying her rent on time. Serves her right for lolly-gagging through the park and not going to pay her rent.

Clumsy bitch.

Another person's screwup is my fortune. With that money, I purchased myself a used car stereo system that I bought from some crackhead at the fleamarket. I think it was stolen because it still had the car attached to it.

Not only have I been finding money, I also bagged a model. That's right, Sideburns bagged a model.

Hang on, let me repeat that. I have trouble believing that myself--

I GOT MYSELF A MODEL!!!! YEEEE-HAW MUDDA FUCKA!!

I had been dating her for a few weeks and she hadn't made any moves. In fact, the most we ever did was hold hands.

Hell, I considered it a successful night if she intertwined our fingers. Score.

Finally, two weeks ago, she kissed me on the cheek when I dropped her off at her house. You bet your ass that I went home and masturbated furiously from all the action I got that night.

Musty, you idiot. You masturbated because some model kissed you? You're pathetic. I bet you ate paint chips as a kid, didn't you?"

Paint chips? Oh! You mean wall candy?

How did I ever get a model to go for me? I have no fucking clue. Not only did she decide to date me, but I had sex with her. WITH MY PENIS! Yes! I just hope she doesn't get pregnant, I'd have to skip town.

"But Nutz, isn't that mean to skip out on a pregnant girl? It's bad enough that she's blind!"

Oooh, good one.

This past weekend, I knocked on her apartment door, expecting to go out on another date with her. I checked my breath one last time and adjusted myself as I heard her footsteps.

I loved being with a model. My old girlfriend wasn't a BAD girlfriend, I mean, we did things together too. I took her out to eat all the time. Hell, I was even nice enough to pick her up afterward.

"Justin!"

"Hey babe. Whaddya say we--"

She yanked me inside and shut the door as she led me over to the couch. She pushed me down onto her nice leather sofa as my eyes widened in anticipation and shock.

"What are you doing? I thought we were going to go out!"

Did I just say that? A hot model chick is having her way with me and I want to go ride Go Karts?

"Shutup and kiss me, Justin!". She lunged ontop of me and stared down into my eyes.

"There's something I want to tell you, Justin."

Please don't tell me you have an erection, please. Please.

"I want you. Here. Now."

I was taken back by this, not really expecting her to give it up only after a few weeks. I would have been happy with some finger intertwining action. Without warning, she said something to me that I didn't want her to say--

"Talk dirty to me", she said as she slammed her tongue down my throat.

"Mmmhmphhh mmfffff."

"What?"

"I said I can't, you have your tongue in my mouth."

"What's the matter? You can't talk dirty?"

It's not that ole Mustynutz can't talk dirty, it's just that he'd prefer not to. I like good ol' fashioned 'love making' as opposed to ass slapping, handcuffs and dirty talk. I'm just a little ol' southern boy. I've only had to talk dirty to a girl one time in my life, and it made me very uncomfortable.

"C'mon Justin, talk dirty!"

"Um.. okay. Well first, I want to take your socks off."

"Mmmm, yea? What then?"

"Then I'll probably throw them in the dirty clothes hamper. Or perhaps tuck them neatly inside your shoes. You don't want socks laying around the place, it'll make people think you're not a very tidy person."

"No, Justin! Tell me what you want to do to me sexually!"

"Oh. Okay. Well, um...."

"Who's a bad boy?"

"Uh...."

"C'mon Justin. Say it, who's the bad boy?!"

"Martin Lawrence?"

She then jumped off of me and sat on the opposite end of the couch. "You don't want to do this to me, do you?"

"What? Yes! I'm just-- not very good at dirty talk."

She jumped back on me. "Tell me what you want to do with me."

"I'd like to have sex with you."

"No! Talk dirty!"

"Um... I'd like to have dirty sex with you."

"No! Cuss for me."

"I'd like to have some damned dirty sex with you."

"...Uh.. Justin.."

"Some damn dirty hot diggity dog hot damn sex. Damnit."

"Justin, be specific." She was obviously losing interest.

"I'd like to push my penis into your vagina, more than likely stimulating it. Then I'd stimulate it some more until you were so stimulated that you couldn't take it anymore."

"Okay, you what? Just shutup and fuck me."

And fuck her I did.

From the kitchen counter, to the chair, to the floor. We even had a little romp on the balcony of her apartment. After a while, her inclination came back.

"Mmmmm Justin! NOW talk dirty to me!"

I took a deep breath. I had to give this dirty talk my 100 percent or I wouldn't be getting anymore nookie. I looked gently into her eyes--

"I want to fuck you, you dirty slut. Yeah, who's the slutbag? Huh? Huh? Who's your daddy you dirty whore? Do you like gangbang anal sex with lots of men? I bet you do you dirty slut whore. Yeah, fuck me you little slut bitch whore..give me that dirty used pussy, yeah thats its...kiss me with your dick tainted breathe..Your gonna lick the dingleberries from my ass tonight while i shit on your face BIYAAAAAAAAATCH...You like pee-pee play, im gonna have all my friends piss on you you damn slutbag"

Needless to say, she didn't like that one bit.

"What did you say?!?!?!"

"Um... I love you?"

"No! Get off me! Get the fuck off me!"

With that said, I was forced to put on my clothes and pushed out the front door. She slammed the door in my face before telling me to never call her or come over again.

I adjusted my shirt collar, turned around and started strutting to my car as the BeeJee's "Staying Alive" played in my head. I then looked at the ground and saw a penny-- on heads.

The good luck streak continues.

 

[mustynutz]

The year was 1992. I was 8 years old. At that age, the neighborhood kids don't decide your coolness by what you wear. You're cool if you have the coolest toys. That year, bikes were what you were judged on. The brand that everyone wanted was Huffy.

George, the kid that had everything, didn't hold back when his dad took him to get any bike he wanted. He had the bike with a water bottle, 10 speed gears, double hand-brakes, and that pad that covers the frame so you don't bust your balls on it.

Then again, he was 8. 8 year olds don't have balls.

His ride even had a radio on it. Whenever I heard Madonna's 'Like A Virgin' blaring, I knew that he was coming. He might have been cool, but his taste in music wasn't the best. He chose to listen to women's light-rock radio. Nonetheless, the other kids idolized him.

My best friend, Joseph, was the worst of these followers.

"Hey Justin, check this out!"

I looked out my front door and heard Whitney Houston's "I Will always Love You".

"What is that, Joseph?"

"It's my new bike, cool huh?"

"That's not a new bike! That's your old one!"

In an effort to be more like George, Joseph duct taped a water bottle to the middle frame of his bike. He didn't think much beyond that, because seeing as how it was duct taped, he could never drink the water. This really didn't help when the hot days of summer melted the tape somewhat. That water bottle stayed there for years with the original water still in it.

"Where's that music coming from?"

"It's my new bike radio!"

No, it wasn't.

The idiot used more duct tape to attach his dad's old General Electric radio to the handle bars. Once again, the hot sun caused a problem later that summer, melting the tape so bad that he couldn't remove the radio. In fact, once the batteries died he couldn't change them-- so now he was riding around with extra equipment that didn't do him any good.

As for me-- I was stuck with my mom's bike. The one she had as a kid. The type where the seat is higher than the handle-bars. You could tell it was a girl's bike because it had the middle-bar sloping downward.

Oh-- it was also bright pink too. That also indicated girliness.

I had to have a new bike, not just to be cool, but to impress Karen. She was an older chick. At 11 years old, she stood 4 feet 1, 65 pounds, and wore her hair in pigtails. It makes me drool just thinking about her.

Wait, no it doesn't. I'm just kidding. Heh. Heh.

When I arrived home from school one afternoon, I decided to ask my mom for the Huffy bike that was loaded with accessories.

"Mom! I want a new bike."

"What? What's wrong with my old bike?"

"It sucks ass, mom. It sucks huge ass."

"JUSTIN!!"

She must've been in a bad mood, because she didn't buy me the new bike. I figured I'd go to the man.

Santa Claus.

"Ho ho ho! What can Santa get you for Christmas, young man?"

"I want the Huffy 10 speed bike with the drink holder and radio!"

I saw my dad standing there in front of me, shaking his head no to Santa.

"Ho ho ho! Santa doesn't know about that! How about a candy cane?"

"But I want a--"

"Get off my lap kid and take the candy cane."

I set out with intentions of a 200 dollar bike and ended up with a 10 cent candy cane. No wonder kids don't believe in Santa anymore, he's a cheap bastard. I saw a couple of elves in the unemployment line last week.

After I came home from the mall, my mom had the nerve to ask me what I asked Santa for.

"I asked him for the Huffy bike. He said no."

"Aw, maybe next year."

"I don't want to wait until next year! I want the bike! Will you buy me the FUCKING bike?!"

"JUSTIN!!"

"Oops sorry. May I please have the fucking bike?"

I still never got that bike.

This past weekend, I had a little bit of extra money in my bank account, so I went out and made the purchase of a lifetime. I bought a 10 speed bike with a radio on it. The kids look at me funny as I ride through the neighborhood ringing my bike-bell.

Jealous fuckers.

 

[mustynutz]

I've always been a light drinker when it came to alcohol. Whenever I'm at a party or in a drinking environment, I'll drink no more than a six pack. After that, I tend to act like an asshole.

I know, I know-- Who doesn't?

When I drink too much, I'm quoting my friends here, I start acting like "a little faggot bitch." No offense to homosexuals out there, those weren't my words.

Oh-- no offense to bitches either. You know I love you hoes.

When you're drunk (and you know it), do you ever do or say something that you think is completely logical at the time? Then, the next morning while you're hanging off the side of your bed you think to yourself-- "Why the fuck did I do that?"

One of my good buddies just moved into his new home, so we did what came naturally. We partied like it was fucking 1999. Or '69, if you're BigMike. One guy in particular brought a clear glass jug filled with Everclear.

No, not the band you idiot.

No, not him either. That's EverLAST.

Everclear, the shit that will fuck you up™.

By the time the bottle was passed around to me, I already had a few beers in me. I took a light sip, seeing as how I didn't want to be the victim of any teabaggings tonight.

"C'mon Musty, I bet you won't chug it.", one of my drunk buddies blurted out.

"Hell no, you think I'm stupid. Nothing in the world could make me chug this shit. I'm not an idiot, so find somebody who's dumb enough."

"I'll give you 10 bucks."

"Deal."

There was a considerable amount left in the bottle, but I was broke and needed money. I lifted the spout to my lips and never turned back. It wasn't the greatest tasting thing in the world. In fact, I'd say it would be on the same taste level as an unwashed vagina. Or shit, I bet shit tastes nasty too.

Daryl, the friend who's so kind enough to catch my most embarassing moments on tape decided to pull out the camcorder. He was determined to get a video much like the "Musty dresses like a woman and walks downtown swindling homeless guys" video.

Trust me, I've learned my lesson. I'm not getting drunk enough to do THAT again.

"CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!"

I couldn't let the group down. I mean, if I DIDN'T drink the Everclear there's no telling what would happen. Well, more than likely they'd let out groans of disappointment then forget all about it within 5 minutes. But still, that's 5 minutes of me letting people down. I can't do that.

I managed to finish it off as cheers filled the room.

"I bet he pukes!" yelled out one of my admirers.

Nope, not going to happen. You're not going to catch me puking on tape. Ever.

So after I finished puking, things started to get a little wobbly. God was playing mind-games with me by shaking the Earth back and forth. From that point on, I remember nothing-- the rest of this is going to be told by what I saw on the video.

Seeing as how Daryl, the maniacal pervert, was behind the camera-- there were several voyeur shots of girls' asses and boobs. He zoomed the camera in on one ass and you can hear him exclaim "Damn, that's one fine ass". When he zoomed back out, it happened to be me standing there. Either he was really drunk or really gay. Perhaps a combination of both.

Whenever the camera focused on me, I was always leaning on somebody-- probably so I could stand up. I also uttered the stupidest shit, even for me.

"Hey Justin, smile for the camera", Daryl would say as he zoomed in on me.

"What's up, fucker! I'm so fucking wasted, bro! I'm like George Washington!"

This is assuming George Washington ever got shitfaced on Everclear and had his friends film him.

Other stupid things I said during the course of the night-- caught on video:

"Butter me up, because I'm a biscuit, BITCH!"

"Uh.. It's 'because I'm on a roll', Justin."

"Well then light a fire under my ass, because I'm on a roll mother bitches!"

As the night wore on, the crowd grew smaller and smaller. I disappeared for a long time, then I walked through the front door with a shopping bag. Apparently I went to the grocery store to buy squash and bananas.

I don't even like squash.

I then proceeded to sit down on the couch as the phone rang. I didn't know at the time, but I've been informed that it was Daryl's mom-- calling to see if he moved in and everything was okay. Unfortunately, I answered the phone--

"Waddup..... Don't worry about who this is. Daryl's taking a shit.... probably in the front yard. What do you want? I said don't worry about who I am, bitch. You really wanna know who I am? I'm Popeye the fuckin' Sailor Man, BITCH!"

Then I hung the phone up.

"Hey Ronnie! Save that banana peel. I'm gonna jackoff with it later", were the last words out of my mouth before the battery finally went dead.

I developed the film from the camera I had that night. The first picture is of my face. The second is of my feet. The rest were of the moon.

That's right. I wasted a whole fucking roll of film taking pictures of the moon.

Don't ever get me drunk or I'll cuss out your mom, stock your refrigerator with weird vegetables, refer to myself as a cartoon character, and utter stupid shit for you to blackmale me with.

 

[mustynutz]

Let's take a memory lane stroll back to the turn of a decade. The 80's boom era was over and a new time was upon us. The phrase 'get with the 90's' was rampant. The year was 1990.

At age 43, Nolan Rylan pitches a record 6th no-hitter.

Hot pants and mini-skirts made a comeback.

Boris Yeltsin is elected the President of the Russian Federation.

Pete Rose is sentenced to 5 months for income tax evasion.

Famous celebrities that died that year; Sarah Vanghan, Greta Garbo, and Sammy Davis Jr.

Buster Douglas knocked out undefeated Mike Tyson in the 10th round in a Tokyo fight.

Wide headbands, pre-ripped jeans, and ninja turtles stuff were the hot new fads.

1990.

I started my first year of school that year at the young age of 6. As I waited at the bus stop, any stranger could have coaxed me into coming to his car with a piece of candy and raped and murdered me. Hell, he could have shown me a rock.

I liked rocks.

What? I was gullible.

I looked out the back window of the bus, staring with wide sad eyes at my mom, who seemed more than happy to get rid of me. Probably because, for 7 whole hours, she didn't have to hide her drinking. I had never been without my parents. Ever.

From the moment I was born and my mom screamed ''put it back in!", we were inseparable. I was venturing into a new life. Kindergarten.

That morning, I woke up extra early just to get dressed. I put my own clothes on, assuming I did a pretty decent job-- to later find out I had put my pants on backwards when I had my potty break. It was quite difficult for a 6 year old to handle the fact that his zipper disappeared.

Speaking of using the bathroom at 6 years old, I thought I had peeing down to a T. Apparently I was wrong. I thought everybody let their pants and underoos drop straight down to the floor to use the urinal, used two hands, stood on their tippy toes, and aimed with their hips with intense concentration.

The teacher, Mrs. McMichael, told us to find our names on the floor. I wandered around aimlessly, looking at the white pieces of tape strips on the carpet when I saw my name.

JUSTIN.

I prepared to sit down when, what do you know, some girl quickly plops her ass down on spot. What does she think she's doing?!

That's MY name on that tape bitch-- move yo' ass.

"Hey girl. That's my name."

"Not uhhh."

"Uhh huhhh."

"Not uhhh.''

"Uh huhhhh."

This heated argument went on for several minutes when Mrs. McMichael interviened. She explained to the blonde haired girl that the tape said JUSTIN, not KAREN.

Heh, stupid illiterate bitch.

Karen's piece of tape just so happened to be beside me, so regardless, I had to learn to get along with her. By the end of the day, there was something funny about that girl. I felt funny whenever she talked to me.

For lack of better words, she made my hoohoo tingle.

"Justin. Wanna be my boyfriend?"

"Ok Karen. What do I have to do?"

"You hold my hand and all that grownup stuff."

"Grownup stuff?! Like chewing gum?"

"Duhhh!"

My first girlfriend. First day of school and I was already big pimpin'. Well, small pimpin'. Actually, no. I was medium pimpin'.

Later that day at recess, I had to deal with the class bully--Allen. He was African American. He was also short and not very bright. He spent so much time in the timeout chair, whenever he came into class each morning, he would just go ahead and go straight to the timeout chair. Might as well-- it's the inevitable.

While I was innocently enjoying my time on the swingset, I felt a push from behind.

"My swing!"

"I was here furrrst!"

Another push.

"I'ma beat you up white boy!"

I had never had violence threatened upon me, so I did what most self-respecting six year olds would do.

I ran away crying.

Allen chased me.

I ran. Faster.

He was coming close.

In the middle of the schoolyard, I saw a big pole. I considered myself quite fast back then, so I figured I'd make a complete turn-around around the pole to gain more distance between us.

I grabbed the pole with my left hand and swung around, not bothering to look back.

"GONGGGG"

What? What just happened? I looked back to see Allen sprawled out on the ground.

First day of kindergarten and I'm already taking out folks.

I looked over to the swings and noticed something. Karen was holding hands with another guy.

Slut.

I ran up to her to investigate what was going on. I wasn't going to take shit.

"Who's that Karen??"

"That's my other boyfriend, Graham. You're still my boyfriend too."

"Oh."

"Since you're both my boyfriends, you should be boyfriends of each other too."

Graham looked at me, I glared at him.

"Okay", he said.

First day of kindergarten and I've got a girlfriend AND a boyfriend.

Lay off, I was 6. It was 1990. I didn't know. Gay people didn't exist back then.

"JUSTIN MICHAEL!!! COME OVER HERE IMMEDIATELY!!"

Mrs. McMichael was storming toward me, then grabbed my hand and brought me into the principal's office. She had some words with the principal, a tall, lanky bald man-- then walked out. It was just me and the principal, staring eye to eye now.

"So Justin, what's this I hear about you hitting people?"

"I ain't hit nobody."

"That's not what your classmate Allen says. He says you punched him right in the face."

Damn Allen. That liar.

I started crying again. I didn't know what to do.

"Can I go to the bathroom?", I glared at him with puppy eyes.

"I don't know, can you?"

Ahhh, the smart ass. You remember when your teachers gave you that line, in an attempt to get you to say "May I.."? Keep in mind, I didn't know my grammar very well.

"Yes, I can." I then got up to walk out of his office.

"Slow down there, bud. You can use mine. It's right there."

I walked into his bathroom and did my thing. I pulled my pants down along with my underoos, used two hands, stood on my tippy toes, and peed all over the floor and toilet.

What? It was really high.

Later in class, Mrs. McMichael pulled me to the side and apologized for yelling at me the way she did. Then I noticed her staring at my no no place for a few seconds.

"Justin, your zipper's unzipped."

"Oopsie. I'll get it."

I reached down and tried to pull it up, to no avail. "Can you get it for me, teacher?"

"Sure." After a bit of pulling, the 26 year old blonde schoolteacher's struggle with my crotch came to successful end.

How many kindergarteners can say that?

When I got home, my mom was excited to hear about my first day of kindergarten.

"So Justin, did you meet any girls?", my dad asked me, of course jokingly.

"Yes sir. I got a girlfriend."

"Aww, isn't that sweet."

"And a boyfriend."

"A what?"

"I got a girl and boyfriend."

"Ummm.. we'll talk about that in a minute. So, how was your teacher?"

"She was good. She helped me with my no no." I only knew one word for my privates back then.

"She what?!! Did she touch you down there Justin??"

"Oh it's ok. I let her."

After a few phonecalls later, my dad and mom gave me several talks. The next day, I had to break up with my boyfriend, informing him that I'm not supposed to have boyfriends, only girlfriends.

I never saw Mrs. McMichael again.

 

[mustynutz]

This past summer, my cousin Alicia, who's at the young age of 16, was forced into my home and I pretty much had to babysit her. Her mother had to go overseas for a few weeks, so I was stuck with an immature fat 16 year old that would eat a piece of shit if you put sugar on it.

I love my cousin and all-- but she's the rudest, fattest, ugliest bitch in the entire world. She dresses like those teens you'd see on Maury or Ricki Lake. I don't even know why she wears 'booty shorts', you can't even see them once she puts them on for the simple fact that her belly hangs over them. Now that we've established that I have a 220 pound cousin, I hope that you can imagine that I didn't literally have sex with her, like you were hoping to read about-- you dirty bastard.

During her two week stay with me, I had to go to work in the mornings and wouldn't be home until later in the night. When I got home one night, I found that my lamp had been broken, my 12 string acoustic guitar was snapped pretty much in half, and my checkbook was missing. I later found out that she had written a check for 25 bucks just so she could have the cash. After I confronted her, she got really defensive and said that she ''got a little rowdy with some friends'' and that's why my stuff was broken. When asked about the checkbook, her retort was--

"I ain't seen no damn checkbook, dawg."

Mrs. Ghetto Bootylicious had crossed the line. From that day forward, she stayed at my uncle's house because I couldn't take her bullshit lies.

And she also smelled like poop.

One of my best friends, Adam, happened to also screw me over recently. My fatback cousin also happened to have a huge crush on Adam.

<ring>

"Hello?"

"Hey Adam, it's Sideburns. What's new?"

"Uh.. nothing man. You still mad at me?"

"Nah. Hey, you wanna meet me at the Waffle House? I've got some new material I want to show you" (Adam's a standup comic)

"Sure bro, I'll see you there at 8. You might not recognize me because I got a haircut and lost the glasses. I'll be in a striped green shirt though."

<click>

I had every intention of meeting my good buddy for a bite to eat and to go over some new standup routines for his show, but I just happened to log onto Instant Messenger and see his screenname on the list. Saved password. I can't--

not do this.

I logged onto Adam's name, not a second later I ..er.. he... received an instant message from my cousin. Usually she'll IM him and talk about her everyday happenings while he just listens. He cannot stand her. Probably because she's a big fat poopy smelling ghetto belly hanging out fatback hoochie mama hoe. I talked with her as "Adam" for a while and then did something I had no intention of doing.

Not Adam: Hey, you wanna meet and ''have fun?"

Alicia: fo real? hellz ya!

Not Adam: Okay, meet me at the Waffle House at 8.

Alicia: Iz you for realz yo? you neva act like dis.

Not Adam: It's only because I like playing games with you. In fact, you want to play another game?

Alicia: like wut

Not Adam: When you see me, I want you to jump on me and start dry humping me. Kiss me, use your tongue and everything. I want everybody to know how we do it.

Alicia: hellz ya. i can do that

Not Adam: I'm going to pretend like I don't want you on me. I might even say "get off me" but I'm only kidding. Get as dirty as you can. I even want you to rub on my crotch.

Alicia: aight.

Not Adam: Ok, see you there!

Alicia: Pizzeace!

Not Adam: I'll be in a striped green shirt.

I haven't heard from either of them in a while. They must not like Waffle House food.

 

[mustynutz]

It was almost 8 o'clock and Andy still wasn't out the door to meet his date for the night. She told him that they were meeting at 8:15 at her house and that she'd have all her friends over so that he could have his way with every single one of them. It was a 15 minute drive to her house and Andy wasn't even dressed yet.

Fuck it.

"I'm going to be having sex with all these women. No sense in even wearing clothes. It's just more work."

With that said, Andy walked out the door wearing a pair of Adidas. Nothing else. No girl had ever offered up front to have sex on a first date with Andy, let alone invite her friends over for the fun. As he made the drive to Allison's house, he pondered up all the naughty things he could do with more than 3 girls at a time. He even assumed there was going to be a black girl at the sex-date. This got Andy really excited.

He always wanted a little chocolate syrup in his milk.

Andy strolled up to Allison's door confident, penis flapping in the wind with every step of enthusiasm. He rang the doorbell then put his car keys in his pocket-- which immediately fell to the ground, seeing as how Andy was not wearing any pants.

So he put his keys in the next available place.

--his shoe.

"Andy! What the hell is wrong with you?! Why aren't you wearing any clothes?!?!?"

"I figured I wouldn't have to dress up just to come over and be in an orgy with your friends."

"Orgy? I told you that we were meeting with some friends to go on a double date to go bowling."

"I assumed you were talking in 'code language' for 'we're gonna do it'."

"Let me get this straight-- I tell you that you and I are going bowling with a few friends. You translate that as a big orgy?"

"Well-- yea, who wouldn't?"

"Good point."

'Twas a fine time at Bowl-O-Rama. Andy was now fully clothed. The other girl on the double-date was an African American. Wait-- I'm being too politically correct here. I'll just use the one 'n' word that describes all girls like her.

The other girl on the double-date was nice. Andy was feeling more attracted to her than Allison, the girl he initially met up with.

"So, where are you from?"

"Well, I'm obviously black. I'm from a country in Africa--"

"Sweet." Andy thought. "So that'd make you a nig



erian?"

"That's right, Andy. Hey, whaddya say we blow this place?"

"This early into the evening? I barely know you, but ok!"

"I said blow this PLACE."

Andy and the Nig


erian up and left the bowling alley and walked around outside for a bit.

"Hey Andy, look on the ground! There's an albino worm digging its way into that mud!"

"Uh.. are you saying that you wanna fuck?"

"What? How can you possibly think that?"

"Well, albino worm.... mud.."

After a while, the girl found Andy's innuendos entertaining and funny. She then took him home and let Andy put his albino work into--

nevermind.

And that's the story of how Innuendo Andy ended up with a Nigger

ian.

***Typo. Spelled Nigerian wrong.

 

[mustynutz]

Of course, you know how it goes, someone logs onto ip-relay.com and types whatever they want to be said to the person on the other side of the phone. Unfortunately, the operator has to relay these messages, whatever they may be. See, you shouldn't have posted this on Ubersite because idiots like Method and I can get ahold of this information and ruin some poor operator's night--

Which is exactly what we did.

Here's the idea we rolled with: Method would log onto the website and call my number and pose as an up-and-coming rapper named Jizzmasta Slim. This would suck for me because I was the person that would actually be talking to the operator. I would pose as Jizzmasta Slim's manager and he would run song lyrics by me.

The point of this?

To see if we could get an operator to rap.
---

<ring>

ME: "Dirty South Records. Nobody does it dirtier than us. This is Lil Bo Peep, Wazzup?!"

OPERATOR: (noticeably an older white woman) "Hi, this is operator 938 with IP-relay. Do you know how to use IP relay?"

ME: "Yes I do, I just say 'go ahead' after each statement."

OPERATOR: "Yo yo yo. This is Jizzmasta Slim. I got some hot new beats. Im gonna use these for my next album. Go ahead."

ME: "Okay, go ahead."

OPERATOR: "Okay, I'ma need you to sing these lyrics for me. Go ahead."

ME: "What? me? Go ahead."

OPERATOR: (talking to me as herself) "I think he means me."

ME: "Oh, well put some flavor into it to give it the full effect."

OPERATOR: "I'm sorry, I can't engage in personal conversation."

ME: "You're the one that engaged in conversation first. Don't blame me."

OPERATOR: "Okay, the name of the song is called 'Can't Fuck With A Nigger'. Go ahead''

(The operator noticeably pronounced 'nigga' wrong. What a racist.)

ME: "I hope this song is better than your last single, "Fuck A Whore". Go ahead"

OPERATOR: "Can you please repeat your message?"

ME: "I... Go ahead."

ME: "Hope.... Go ahead"

ME: "This.... Go ahead."

OPERATOR: "Please tell me the whole message at once."

ME: "I'm sorry, this job must be very stressful on you."

OPERATOR: "Well, some days it's... er... I am not allowed to engage in conversation."

ME: "But, you broke into the conversation yourself!"

OPERATOR: "Whatchu talkin' about, dawg? Go ahead."

ME: "Damn you. You weren't supposed to send that to Jizzmasta Slim! You knew that!"

OPERATOR: "I'm not allowed to engage in conversation."

ME: "Anyway... go ahead with the lyrics, Money. Go ahead."

OPERATOR: "Yo, check it. It's me, Jizz E, reppin' for the east. Killin' niggers with my gat, what's up with that? Bust a hater in the head, now the bitch is dead. Go ahead."

(Once again, she pronounced 'nigga' wrong. She also read the lyrics as if she didn't want to be a part of this conversation anymore, so we decided to bump it up a notch.)

ME: "That's great, Jizz. Let me hear some of the second verse. Go ahead."

OPERATOR: "I got me an itch-- for a white....bitch?(She slowed down when she read this line and read it like it was a question.) I'm gonna take the white hoe and pull her panties down. Stick it in and bounce up and down. Lick her nipples and slap my black cock in her face. White bitch, you love the taste? Throw you on the floor, bitch, suck my nut. Would you start to trip if I finger fucked your butt? Go ahead."

(At this point, I had to stifle my laughter. Not only did she read the lyrics, but she even read it like a poem and emphasized where it rhymed. There's something funny about a 60 something white woman reading lyrics about raping a white woman. Irony, I'll tell ya.)

ME: "That's great Jizzmasta, but I'm gonna let you go. Let me know how your single "Kill All The White Man" is coming along. Peace. Go ahead."

OPERATOR: "Alright dawg, peace."

ME(to operator): "So, whats up shortie, where you at? You wanna kick it?"

OPERATOR: "I'm not allowed to engage in personal conversation."

 

[Gringo Starr]

LOL....nice!

Where do you get these stories by the way???