Red Dots..... The indian kind.

I was invited to my second Indian wedding this past weekend for a friend from college. These things are traditionally a little crazy, this coming from my own experience and from conversation with others.

I got really excited when in the middle of the week, I learned about some of the guest list. These people I haven't seen in forever. It was a reuniting of the alcoholics from across the world. Jewell and Costner are coming across the country. Nevin is in town from China, and not to mention that the groom has come back from Germany. Before even coming to Greenville, Friday night, I knew that I would be making the most of every minute in the 48 hours id be spending there!

The first night was the normal antics from our regular clowns. Shot after shot after bourbon drink or beer. There were new people in the crowd, wives and girlfriends I had yet to met. We hit two am grabbed some food and hit the road to Bills condo. This place is awesome and includes a roof top deck that over looks the Drive baseball stadium. This was in use till about 5am.

The next morning i was reluctant to start the day because of two main reasons. I was lying in an unbelievably comfortable tempupedic bed and ahead of me was a 3.5 mile walk in 100 plus degree weather back to our cars. So the next statement should not surprise you when i say that Watson and I were running late to the reception.

We still had to make a crucial stop and the ABC store to make an all important alcohol purchase. The night before I was informed that it was customary to drink out of the back of your car when an Indian wedding includes a cash bar. The more and more I learn about this fascinating culture, the more I realize we are all a little redneck.

The wedding lived up to its potential. Amazing Indian cuisine. A rocking dance floor. A really crazy super energetic DJ playing funky Indian tunes. There was even the odd cousin, who gave a speech no on understood about long lasting love, marriage, and obscure stories about the bride and groom. I thought about doing everyone a favor and dragging him off the floor by his Three stooges tie.

But the wedding wouldn't be complete without one of our friends completely overdoing it at the reception. This time it was Chief, aka Paul aka, Ari Gold. I'm pretty sure he was drunk before he showed up at the wedding. He has us rolling the whole night. Clapping before the end of speeches, inappropriate comments towards people we didn't know, and stumbling about the reception area.

The night goes off without a hook and unbeknownst to me there was an after party at the hotel where everyone was staying. Our alcohol purchase from earlier was about to pay off big. We made our way to the hotel and realized that the party had just changed venues. Everyone was there and we had the whole 5th floor to ourselves. Each room had a sitting area, bedroom, and its on interior balcony where you looked down to the courtyard. Watson and I decided to add to guest list and get a room.

It was almost like we had gone back in time to the hall. New faces and people had recreated an old hall party except this time there were far more Indians and the male, female ratio had balanced out. Somehow Chief was still going strong. Thank God we had all the rooms on this floor. He was even insulting people in our party that he had seen at the weddings as they walked down the hall. He was running up and down the hall beating on others doors and finally passed on in Poulson's room.

Any good dranking night will eventually lead to food. Somehow Faiyaz pulled a few chicken wings but this wasn't enough for the group. I tried to get us a cab to waffle house for 14 people. The front desk pointed me toward a cab company. This guy quoted me a $48 fare round trip and it will take at least 2 of them to get us all there.

After a while one of Faiyaz's cousin, or one of the other Indians still awake asked me to watch over the bride and grooms room. She had decked it out for a proper first night with some pretty naughty things. A blow up doll in the bathroom, and blowjob placards on the door knob. While did this she made a secret trip to WAHO. The drinking continued and 45 minutes later she walked in with a massive pile of waffle house and the roof erupted. I haven't seen that many hash brown orders or grilled cheeses with egg in one placed. We were like pigs in a trough. There was also no silverware. So we were eating hot hash browns with our fingers.

The night went on and people started hit the sack. We decided to move rooms and realized we were encroaching in on Chiefs nap time. He was sprawled out all over the pull out bed in the den of Poulson's room. I tried to get the bed to fold up with him in it, but he didn't flinch. We messed around for a few more minutes and Nisha, Mayur's wife, said lets put him on the roof like the hangover. We immediately gathered the four sides of the matters and tried to pick him up. Then we dropped him. It was a little sad for a minute and we soon realized that the roof was out of reach. We opened the sliding door and drag him out to the patio. He grunted a bit but was still incoherent. We ran out like school girls closing the door behind us and we around to the hall where we could see him. There may have been some Cheetos tossed on him and eventually he awakened and began to eat them.

We retired to our room with the Poulsons and soon we heard him scrounging around the hallway. He was knocking on peoples doors who he didn't know in a blanket. He finally makes it to our room and we can see a wedding guest with her luggage walk past trying to make it to her 6 am flight back home. I'm not sure chief knew what was going on.

We finally let him into the room and Christine asked him, are you naked under the blanket. He looked at us surprisingly as if he didn't know that there was any blanket and said, "maybe"!

At about 630am, I finally kicked everyone out, because I am way to old to be up that late, two nights in a row!

PS - There is a video of this hangover remake somewhere!

I may really be a heartless asshole!

There is a little back story to this, so lets hop right in and bring you up to speed. I purchased my house a little over a year and a half ago. When I moved into the house I realized that my neighbor direclty across the street happened to be one of the bartenders from chubbys. I was glad to already know one of my new neighbors, even though I never saw him outside of the bar. Every so often I would see him at the house, walking the dog or driving to work. Summer came around and I admit for the first month maybe two, I borrowed a good friends lawnmower. Now keep in mind I never see or talk to this guy outside of the bar and other than paying my tab and giving hand gestures that I am ready for another double bourbon, I have absolutely no communication with said bartender.

So after a few uses of my friends lawnmower, and seeing as how I would need to continue using this device for as long as I own my home, I decided that I should probably purchase my own lawnmower. Direclty after doing so, my neighbor began to ask to borrow my lawnmower. Initally I had absolutely no problem with this. I was glad to let him use it. Maybe his was broken, times are hard, hell maybe this will get me a free bourbon drink, etc. Those are all great reasons to lend out your lawnmower. He only asks to borrow the lawnmower after the grass gets to above knee height, so driving between the house I came to expect his presence and requests for the lawnmower.

I am not sure if there is a time limit on this becoming annoying for regularly tempered people, or if there even is a hard fast rule on how often you can borrow someone elses lawn equipment. If there is, I am sure that my timeframes are much shorter. Do you compare it to lending someone a DVD that you dont really watch anymore? People have been known to keep those for years, then they are just accused of them stealing your possesion. Or is this scenario more like borrowing somones car? If so this guy owes me the federally mandated .49 cents a mile for the use of my lawnmower. I would say its probably somewhere in between the two.

This has gone on for the past year and has become increasingly annoying with my present employment. I am only home for a week a month, if that, and everytime I am home I anticipate him coming to the house to ask me for the lawnmower. This seems ridiculous, right. I mean even when I say it aloud I know that this shouldnt be something that pisses me off, but it does. Maybe its the way he "asks", like he is intitled to my shit, because he serves me drinks. I dont get it.

Two days ago when he came to the house he told me that he got a ticket and needed to borrow my lawnmower becuase the city had fined him for his grass. First of all, I dont care. Its no my fine. Secondly, he doesnt own the house. So he cant be fined for grass that isnt his. This time I have had it. There is no sign on my house that says free lawnmower rental, or please come borrow my possesions with no compensation. Over the past year I have not seen one free drink, or any offer to thank me for its use.

Wait. It literally just hit me. This situation pisses me off for the following reason. This guy has no moral conflict with continuing to take advantage of the fact that I am allowing him to borrow the lawnmower. He doesnt have the switch in his brain that says, I am a fucking bum. I should probably stop fragently using my neighbor's/ bar patron's, who pays my bills anyway, lawnmower. I feel as thougth I need to set a precedent. People like this dont learn lessons.

So what am I to do. In my world I have four options. I could buy him a lawnmower. Fuck that! I could continue to lend him the lawnmower for as long as we both live there. Fuck that! I could polietely say go buy your own lawnmower. Not offensive enough!

-or-

I could post a sign on my front door. I think the sign will read something like this...

McCarter's TOOL RENTAL INC. (McTR)

Please be advised that lawn equiment can now be rented for your personal use. Below are the set non-negotiable prices for lawn equiment rental. A refundable deposit of $200.00 is due upon each agreement.

Push Lawnmower
4 hours - $30 per use
8 hours - $50 per use

Each unit will be returned full of fuel, or a fee of $5 is withheld from the deposit.


I am going to go with option four. I am not sure how this will go. I am fairly sure he will become irrate, but its worth testing the waters.

Bloody Stairs and La Plays Grey’s Anatomy

It had been a while since our last 5 points visit and on this particular night we had a large crowd in the favorite hang out spot of Chubby’s, formerly known as Marks. The crowd included Jenn, Shanna, Leslie, Julien, Simons and a few other stragglers.

For some reason this particular night we had a reason or maybe just a need to consume as much alcohol as possible. We hefted alcohol into our system hand over fist with shots, beer and liquor drinks.

Somehow we all scattered at last call. We had clearly all drank enough for the need of a crappy hour was dissolved without conversation. After a cramped car ride home and a quick dash to the bathroom I passed out wearing my smoke covered clothes.

My body had not fully relaxed in bed, and yes I was passed out, by the time my phone rang. It was Leslie. I gave serious thought to not answering the phone as whatever was going on outside of my bedroom lacked importance at this given time. I answered the phone anyway to find a highly upset and crying girl. When I say highly upset I mean that she was crying at a rate in which she could not speak. In the three or so years I have known this girl I have seen her cry, ummm… once. Even with this astounding revelation I passed out filing the conversation as nonsense and went back to sleep.

Me – What!

Leslie – (whimpering)

Me – What is wrong?

Leslie – (more whimpering)

Me – What is wrong with you?

Leslie – I feel down the stairs, and…and (more whimpering)

Me – And? (My tone at this point was still pretty harsh)

Leslie – more whimpering… and I’m bleeding.

Me – Bleeding from where?

Leslie – My head.

Me - Call La. (click) zzz…

One eye had closed and the other was about half way before the phone rang again almost buzzing off the nightstand. The conversation with Leslie this time did not reveal any new information except for the fact that she could not get in touch with La. At this point I heard the urgency in her voice and told her that I would drive to her house and rectify the situation. I called La shortly after and informed her to have her ass at Leslie’s as well. I believe that La was upset at a failed attempt to hook up with Simons. Later I found out that she was driven home in the back seat with Simons and when arriving at home slammed the car door because Simons would not follow her in. This is a different side story.

As I got into my company car, mind you. I said a few words to God. “Lord I am completely aware that there is no good situation where I should be this drunk and driving a car, but I am going to help someone in need. Please don’t screw me. Thanks.”

After safely making it to Leslie’s, she opened the front door. She was wearing what used to be a white tank top and shorts. Tears were streaming down her face and I had never seen her close to this upset before. I walked inside still not fully understanding the urgency when I noticed blood on the parquet floors, carpet and stairs. Not an enormous amount, but enough to raise suspicion. I asked if she felt woozy, she replied yes. Alcohol or loss of blood who knows. I told her that she should head upstairs and lay down. I made sure to walk behind her so that another incident did not follow. When she turned for the stairs, it him.

This girl has fucked herself up. Blood is running down her shirt, her hair is clogged together looks as if only a small patch of strands had been dipped in markers mark wax. Oh my lord. The following is my thought process.

Instructions for Leslie: 1. Make it up the stairs. 2. Where is a towel? 3. Hold this towel on the back of your head because I’m not touching you. 4. Ambulance. 5. Ambulance. 6. Ambulance. 7. Oh shit, I saw this episode of cops where I get arrested because they think I pushed this bitch down the stairs. 8. Where the hell is La? 9. I need to leave immediately.

911: What is your emergency Sir?

Me: Ugh, Ugh This girl I don’t know fell down the stairs and hit her head. She may have a concussion. Do I have to be here when the paramedics arrive and are you sending police?

La shows up way drunker than I am. Kristin has the flu and looks as if death is slowing creeping in to snatch her soul. She is also complaining that she must go back to sleep and can not be bothered with this situation. I wanted to hurt her but the paramedics were arriving.

I stayed downstairs and waited for them to begin the questioning. Has she been drinking? Were you here when she fell? What were you doing? None of the questioning results in my arrest. This was the only winning factor of the night.

I saw the stretcher come in and slide up the stairs. I knew the night wasn’t going to get any better.

La bee bops downstairs and says she is fine but we need to have her checked out. We ask to ride in the ambulance as we clearly cannot drive. The EMT asks have you two been drinking. Yes clearly I am wasted. The ambulance drives away and La and I look to one another. How the hell are we going to get to the hospital? We cant leave her there all night. I know we can smoke a cigarette and then you will be fine to drive. That makes perfect sense.

We get in the car and head to Richland hospital. Fortunately I am not familiar with the names of hospitals in Columbia. So I headed to the main hospital that I know, which is Baptist, right down town. We drive up to the ER drop off and the security officer asks if I am bringing La into the ER room. We explain that there is someone inside we know and need to visit. After the bewildered looks of the receptionist we enter back into the car and head to the next known location of hospitals. Providence. This was much more sketchy as we ended up wondering the halls which turned out to be a ghost town and a good thing because no one was there to give us eat shit looks, you drunk bastards.

We finally made it to the correct hospital. We approach the front entry and noticed a gaggle of niggers standing next to reception. That should be about right, we are in Columbia. After swiftly averting the madness we were on our way to her room.

Side story: The gaggle near reception was berating a Columbia police officer for arresting a person who we later found out had been beaten over the head with a foreign objecting gushing blood and creating a hole in his skull. Awesome.

We found Leslie lying on a bed in a room to herself. Writhing in pain and wanting to pull her neck brace away. After hours of waiting the doctor came in and examined her explaining that stitches or staples would be need to close the wound. After the procedure was completed we still had to await the release papers. I strongly believe that they made us all wait in the ER because they knew we were all wasted and wanted us to remember this evening so that future ER visits would be averted.

On several occasions through the night La and I left the private room, so that the procedure could be done or so that some privacy could be had. La wondered around the hospital trying to find the locker room of the doctors, or stumble upon a doctor who would take her into the back room as if she were a Grey’s Anatomy star. Several references were made to this sitcom as we strode the halls. La sometimes using abandoned wheel chairs as her means of transportation. I had to convince her multiple times not to pass out on the beds in the hallway. This coupled with the many comments from La about how uncomfortable and displeased she was to be in the hospital at this ungodly hour. I kept the selfish bitch comments to myself as much as possible.

Finally Leslie was released from the hospital and we exited to the parking lot only to find that my car had a ticket for improper parking. That reminds me. I still have not paid that ticket. Fuck it.

After several weeks of carrying staples in her head and refusing to drink with us. The staples were removed, but the experience was not forgotten. I took a long time for Leslie to join us for drinks in 5 points. This only meant that she was the designated driver and received calls at 2 am for taxi rides home.

A few months past and Leslie found surprise from her experience. Later she regretted filling in on the surprise of her new found rat tail. The staples closing her wound had not allowed hair to grow in this area and now was beginning to show on rainy and stuffy days. Even to this day you can catch a glimpse of the now elongated rat tail. An ever present reminded of the trip down the stairs.

La Looses Herself

One random Friday night La and Kristin were eager to hit the town. I decided to sit this one out and have a quiet evening after a long week of work. After a movie and dinner I passed out earlier without hearing anything from the 5 points patrons, which usually meant that either the night had ended without anything eventful happening or the world could be spinning out of control.

After a few hours of sleep my phone started to ring non-stop. Nothing good could come of this. Since meeting and hanging out with the new trio I had been named the Shepherd and was on non-stop patrol and guardian duty to keep these dames in touch with reality. Its fair to say that this is not an easy task.

I finally answered the phone, only to find Kristin in a hysterical uproar. She went on to explain that the cops had been pounding at the front door for a few minutes and had shown up with La’s purse and belongings. The reason she didn’t answer the door is because she had no pants on. I can only imagine her now saying to herself, "Where are my pantelones?"

She had to chase the cops down to figure out what they wanted. She was then told that her roommate was missing and that her belongings had been found with a drunk porch sleeper around the corner. The cops abducted Kristin to show her the drunk college kid, who had earlier been with La. Kristin had no idea who this person was or why he had La’s belongings. I do no have to interject why La would have been with this younger gentleman, insert your own comment. The porch sleeper was then sent to the lockup in his patty wagon ride.

Kristin told the cops that she had been with La earlier in the night and left her in the bar with several potential hook up buddies, namely Brett a regular at PSH. After grilling Kristin and getting Brett’s name and phone number, from La’s phone, Kristin was returned to PSH by the cops whilst the cops called to harrass Brett about the whereabouts of La.

By this time I had been summoned to save the day. My first action was to call Leslie to see if La had stumbled to her place. No luck. My phone call however did inspire Leslie to meet me at PSH after I specifically told her that my first thought was that La was lying in a ditch somewhere miles from 5 points with no phone or purse.

Leslie, Kristin and I arranged out meetings of the minds on the front porch of PSH. This had been the impromptu home base for locating the lost La. We could not call her cell phone, as we already had it, nor could we retrace the steps she took home as the poor lost sheep was left alone in 5 points. We called her hook up buddy Brett and found she had not gone home with him. The night would have been much easier if she had.

As we smoked cigarettes and pondered her whereabouts, my only conclusion was that she had been raped and murdered in the lustrous metropolis known as Columbia, SC. We were dumbfounded. The cops had given up and returned her belongings and cast the lost girl off as some drunken slut. My lack of sleep and knowing La, didn’t leave my determination for off.

After a few minutes I got up to go to the bathroom. After relieving myself I decided to check La’s bedroom. I opened the door to find a pair of purple panties and white shirt lying ass up in the bed. That’s right the drunken slut was lying face down in her own bed sound asleep while the three of us had woken up at 6am to search the earth for her missing ass. I calmly walked outside and asked Kristin if she had even bothered to check if La was passed out in her own bed. As innocently as possible she replied, no.

An Update to the Cast of Characters

It’s been a while since the blog has been updated. There have definitely been a few people added to the mix which have contributed to the Sunday conversations and story telling. To bring you up to date there is a list with there descriptions below.

First to come along was an unruly duo first mentioned in an earlier blog. Since the Tennessee, Carolina game I have become good friends with La and Leslie. The first encounter with this pair was disastrous, people falling down stadiums, pouring kaluha into perfectly good hot chocolate and then setting the tailgate chair on fire. How I came to be friends with these people I have no idea. I think maybe because all of my other friends left town.

Following the introduction to these two, La lived with several other women at what they called PSH. (Princeton Street House) This house was at every waking moment a disaster but filled with women. Who could resist. At the time living in the home was Soss, an ex-girlfriend...weird, Mandi a short but spritely person, and Propst. Shortly there after Propst left the house to become an adult in the world as living in this home meant that you were permantly stuck in a world half way between college and your first job. After she moved out of the home Kristin, a friend of La's from Spartanburg who had recently graduated Law School at USC, moved into the house. Insanity, confusion, and loss of dignity would follow as the new characters began to hang out.

La is known as the girl who losses things, such as her phone, her purse, cigarettes, but most of all her dignity. She has also been known to loss herself. She is very bright just has absolutely no common sense whatsoever.

Leslie has already been coined as the dumbass who fell down the stadium and set a chair on fire, but those stories seem to pale in the shadow of future happenings. She was also named the gremlin in previous posts.

Kristin is very hard to describe. She is a lawyer who loves to argue and will drink a bottle of wine at the drop of a hat. After a few encounters with this one I found out that her past involves stealing cars and boyfriends, belonging to the same person, and a self proclaim multiple personality disorder. This cant be real, as Kristin can name her alter egos, Tracy Buffy and Patsy. One of them only comes out after drinking liquor, one of them allows her to hook up with random dudes, and the other is for cussing out people during intense arguments and hitting the dance floor. This is obviously a farce or just an excuse so that Kristin has someone to blame after she willingly looses her dignity the night before.

There are other characters which will arise through future blogging, but these are the important new additions. They have self proclaimed me as their Shepherd and them as my flock of sheep. Depending on the night, or day (if drinking) they vary in color from black to white. Black meaning whorish tendencies are running through their minds, and white meaning they are being deceitful and trying to get me into trouble.

Man Down, Man Down

The following is an actual 911 recording taped on the evening of October 18, 2006...


911: 911 What is your emerg....

Caller: Code RED, I repeat code RED... MAN DOWN, MAN DOWN.

911: Sir, Do you have an emergency?

Caller: There are floral imprints and old ass reclining leather coaches everywhere, send someone fast they are going to sell his nice big comfy couches in a yard sale.

911: Sir, is anyone hurt or in danger?

Caller: There is a small child here being babysat. I think she has Lynn in training for a baby.

911: Is the child alright sir?

Caller: It's not the child its my f...r...i...e...n...d, his girlfriend moved in and took over. HE's gonna DIIIIIIIIIEEEEE. Send somebody now. Hurry I can see his balls in a jar on the counter. OH MY GOD HE'S BEEN CASTRATED.

911: Sir..

Caller: Call the Law for God sakes! Send the Mayor! Oh no, she brought in her 18th century antiques, its too LATE!!!

House Hunting 101

If you didn’t know I have been searching the illustrious real estate market of Columbia for a few months now. Every time I go house hunting I feel like strangling someone or cussing them out. The worst are the "For Sale By Owner" homes. I have searched houses ranging in sales price and looks for quite a while, and I've almost had it. The market in Columbia ranges from dilapidated nigerdom, to Old South money.

Last week I reevaluated my loan amount with the City of Columbia, and was both impressed and excited about new options I may be able to pursue. So I decided this weekend to search the Rosewood market. Driving up and down the streets I found several houses worth looking at two of them which were "For Sale By Owner".

The first house had an Arched porch way and was all brick. The info sheet did not list a price but described a house I would love to own. The second was an older home that looked like it had potential more of an investment property than anything which is not a bad thing. These two houses sum up the market spectrum in Columbia, Really nice to Almost falling apart. There is no middle ground without much work. I make back home and contact the owners about setting up an appointment to see their houses.

Sunday @ 2:30 Gregory and I set out as the gay couple of Columbia in search of a HOME. I hate that look people give you when they ask, "How long have you TWO been looking for a house?” My only response to that comes in my most manly voice that "I have been looking for a few weeks." We pull up to the Nice brick house, open porch with Ivy growing over the passage. We enter the porch and a lovely couple meets us at the door and we make the introductions as we are invited into the home. Chris, the lady of the house, shows us the den as I dare to ask the price of this AWESOME home. Without fail she blurts it out, "The listing price is 19?,???. All I heard were the first two numbers and my immediate reaction was just to say FUCK IT. Let’s leave. I can't afford this fucking house, but I am able to turn around in it without hitting a wall. She then shows us the rest of the immaculate home with a well manicured back yard, deck, even complete with a hot tub. I hate this bitch. My next thought is that her fucking Daddy bought her this house, now she just wants the next free ride off of some poor soul willing to buy her house. My mood has swung severely from excited to just down right pissed. I walk to the front door as she throws another curve ball at me that her and her HUSBAND were just married and that they are building a new home in Lexington. I congratulate them as I left myself out the door, ball up the info sheet, and bit my tongue from Fuck you and your home very much.

I may have screwed myself, looking at the nice home first with the rundown shanty second. I was in no mood to see the house but it wasn’t worth wasting my time or the owners since I was in the area.

We pull up to the house and walk in through open French doors to meet Valerie. I can sum up Valerie with a short description, Katie Magers after long hard bender that was concluded by a few happy endings from a NAACP gang bang.

She is very nice though and introduces us to her mother. At first the house seems nice very open with plenty of rooms, but no doors on any of the bedrooms. Weird. She then tells us the history of the house built in 1911, should have left that out of the home show Valerie. She then goes on to explain that there is no Central Air/ Heat. Fuck this I'm out. I can't survive without that. The next 45 minutes of Valerie's tour goes as follows, my attitude and general expression never changing from holy fuck what is wrong with you.

This is the first bedroom, I didn’t like the closet so I tore it down. And this is the extra room which I have just turned into a large closet. The kitchen is very open this is the two year old gas space heater I had installed, there is another one in the den when you walk in. The range in only two years old, and the dishwasher is about 5 years old. It’s portable.

Stop the TOUR!!! A portable dishwasher. Shut the fuck up. Why do you want a portable dishwasher??? Do you own a dishwashing franchise much like Merry Maids which is a traveling maid service that cleans the house only you show up after dinner with your portable dishwasher to clean kitchen and it’s off to the next wholesome family. Do you have reindeer and a slay as well??? (G later told me that he couldn’t believe I didn't just walk out after this display.)

Continue tour... This is the master bathroom (missing doors) and bedroom (also missing doors).

Excuse me Valerie, where do you fuck without doors and your mother being in the house???

This is the back yard it’s completely fenced in with two sheds. This shed has running water and electricity, you could even rent this out if you put some time into it only the ceiling is 4.5 ft tall and the whole shed is only 100 square feet.

Uh Valerie can we see into the other shed?

"I'd rather keep that locked for right now it has the vinyl siding that I am planning to put on the house. I can show you the plans we had for the house. These plans were for we to do and have become just me doing them. My husband left me I need to sell this house. I had these plans drawn up and we planned on having them complete by now but my husband left me and I cant do them. My husband left me please buy my house.

As we walk out the front door her mother is sitting on the front porch and we say our goodbyes.
Her mother shouts out to us "They don’t make porches like this anymore, I sit here all day and watch people go through the trash. I even saw a truck come by and add to the pile one day. Its funny."

I really think that I only said four or five complete sentences while at this house. I did not ask one question and neither did G. If I weren’t driving the 4 cylinder Malibu I would have left 20 foot long burn marks on the road in front of her house, and I am fairly certain that Valerie's husband's remains are still in that shed.

Round 2

So the following night after the toliet episode. Liver, Trey, and myself were set to meet Marc, his new girlfriend (Jodi), and her friend at La Paz, an entirely over price mexican restaurant in downtown Charlotte. We meet them out with little complication, the night has already gone better than the previous.

The three of us were presently surprised to meet Jodi's big titted friend Kelly. Seemed like a nice girl. We sit down to eat and Kelly seems to be looking rather hard at the menu as if to say she couldn’t find something to eat. I ask her if she knows what she wants, she replies with a no, I am vegetarian.

"Oh really, I’m not. I am sure they can bring you a bowl of lettuce."

She shoots me an empty stare and the game begins. How fast can I possibly piss this girl off by offending her eating habits. Not to say that mine are the best, I just couldn't ever be a vegetarian, and as you all know like to push people limits.

"So why don’t you like meat?"

"Its not that I don’t like meat, it just makes me sick to know that I am eating some poor defenseless animal. Don’t get me wrong I like the taste, it just physically makes me sick."

"Well you know that the animal you didn’t eat someone else is eating instead of you, namely me. And the animal really isn’t defenseless, it could have run."

By this time the whole table is digging into Kelly with rude comments about vegetarianism. Our food arrives and Kelly begins to pick into her vegetarian burrito to see if the Mexicans accidentally served her some chicken or beef.

"Watch out there may be some fat back in that burrito!"

"Ewww fat back is disgusting."

"You wouldn’t last five minutes in greenpond."

"Where’s that?"

"Do you know how they kill baby cows... They push a bolt into their head, they don’t even waste bullets on them."

"Stop, that’s gross."

"So you don’t eat chicken, beef, or seafood."

"No but I do wear leather jewelry."

.....

"So you shouldn’t kill a cow to eat it but you should kill it so you can wear it??? You fucking hypocrite."

"Well I can’t wear metal jewelry because I am allergic to it. I get like a poison Ivy rash on my arm when I wear it."

"Oh my God. Do you fly in planes?"

"Yeah."

"Why, you know they kill birds in the process right??? You shouldn’t fly in planes that’s against what you believe in."

After leaving La Paz we walk across the street to a bar. The two girls walk ahead of us and we start to discuss how quickly we could break this girl down, making her cry or any kind of public outburst. We decide it would probably after midnight, this girl has some thick skin. Beers are ordered and sit down at a table with big titties no meat girl sitting beside me. So I strike up a conversation asking her what she does, you know the normal bullshit. She replies that she is a manager of a Coffee shop. That’s not bad. So how did you get to Charlotte.

"Well I dropped out of high school and became homeless for a little while. Then I got married, then divorced, and meet a guy that lived down here so I followed him down here. I used to manage a Starbucks and I hated my job. So I broke up with my boyfriend, quite my job, and moved out to a new apartment."

"Really anything else interesting?"

"I recently had a really bad car accident and the insurance wont pay. I have short term memory loss due to the accident so, if forget something it’s not because I am ignoring you. A few weeks ago I left my car running in the parking lot and sometimes I forget to feed my dog. I feel like a horrible person. So what do you do."

"I'm an insurance adjuster, and I have to pee."

Promotions and Humbling Experieces!!

Wednesday I recieved a call from Oliver saying that we needed to celebrate his promotion the up coming weekend. He had only been in town for a few weeks and had yet to see the nightlife in Charlotte.

Friday roles around and the 5 oclock bell tolls and my happy ass belts for the door. I head straight for Trey's to start the drinking and prepare for the night. We grab some food and are on course to pick up a friend of his from work (female imagine that, alghough engaged) around 7. We finish dinner and hear from Trey's friend that she has already left so we head straight for Liver's place to pick him up. In route the question is proposed if we are in a rush to get downtown, because if not I could stand to make a pit stop.

We arrive at Liver's and undoubtedly make it known that i have to take a shit. "Dude, use the bathroom upstairs, these toliets suck. My dad was here last weekend and clogged every toliet." I could see the fear in Liver's eyes, as surely he saw the glory in mine. He knew his toliet was no match and would surely be doomed. He proceeded upstairs to give thorough intructions on how to operate the faulty equipment located in his condo.

"Hey pun what kind of dumping music would you like?"

"Something easy going."

I read a couple articles and proceeded to the later half of my duties, I thought better to give this lackluster toliet a hearty duty of a single flush and decide to go with the double maybe even triple.

This toliet stood absolutely no chance what-so-ever!!! The first flush accomplished absolutely nothing. As I stand there with my pants around my ankle and dirty water begging to over flow onto the bathroom floor, I begin to think damn what did I eat. Oh well, we'll worry about that later when its on the floor. The plunger is beside the toliet and before taking on this monumental task i decide to take care of business first, ridding the room of certain devices used in the process by the bath room trash can, which was later completely disposed of.



After several mintues of using the oldfashioned red bottomed plunger the water level had finally come down to the point that a second flush was appropriate. "Alright here we go. Come on you mother fucker." I pull the trigger and the water rushes down into the bowl, on to provide a faint gurgle and come rushing back up to the top. "Son of a..."

"Hey Liver, I fucked you're toliet up!!!"

"You got a plunger in there!"

"Yeah I tried that, got any tips, you dont really want to come in here though?!? Flush the toliet downstairs and I'll try again."

For another 5 minutes I stand over this fucking toliet doing my damndest to plunge as hard as possible without splashing this corn infested black water onto my toes, or the clothes i was about to wear downtown.



..........The water proceeds down and a thrid flush is attempted. All i can do is laugh as the water jumps back up. Plunge it again and again and again. Finally i walk downstairs with a loaded trashbag and toss it in the dumpster. "Liver, fuck your toliet lets go downtown, I turned the fan on it'll be fine."

He makes his way upstairs to witness first hand ground zero. The traumatic experience could be smelt half way up the staircase as I ask, "are you sure you want to do that?"

He walks in and out horrified, "Dude you gotta try again." Another attempt, another failure.







We call roto rooter, only to find out that they wont be able to make it for another half hour. The executive decision is made to make our way downtown and handle the excavation tomorrow morning.

We make our way downtown and as we near the city Trey's cell phone rings, as the girl we were supposed to provide transportation to earlier had begun to worry about us, with good reason.

"Hello"

"Where are you??"

"One of the guys clogged the toliet and we are a little late."

"Everyone is here, and some people were wondering where you were?"

"We'll be there in a minute."

I fucking hate you trey why did you have to say that. We enter RIRA's and make our way upstairs to the bar. I can only imagine the conversatin that awaits me as I meet his fellow co workers. We grad a drink and head to the outside porch. The first words mentioned are "Is that the guy that clogged the toliet." Of course they are going to think that the bigger guy clogged the fucking toliet. So just because I am a big man means i take bigger shits. Maybe I had oatmeal for breakfast bitch. Fuck you. I could not believe this shit was happening.

Later we entered the Twilight zone where we saw Anderson with a 14 year old girl, who he had snuck into the bar.

Ran into a bachlorette party where you needed to insert a dollar into a pair of tits and bite a lifesaver off of a nipple. That was a good time.

Trey introduced us to two women who at one point in the night were all over one of us.

Trey had yet another married women around his arm. What the fuck is going on???
If you didnt know Trey was proposed to by an unamed person that if given the word would break off her engagement. He is now on pace to break Lynn's home wrecker record.

I say he does both of them in one weekend and mails the dirty used condoms to their house with a note that says I know what your girlfriend did last weekend. ME!!!
If not him its going to be Marc Lynn.