Stories from the vault: Time travel

Blackouts... or as Dave Attell, likes to say,"Time Travel". They occur when you drink much more alcohol than you needed to drink in one sitting. I'm sure the fact I've blacked-out isn't a surprise after reading about "projectile vomit", but it's a part of my eclectic background of self-destruction.

Three times, That's all. That's the number of times I've blacked-out(or at least the number of times, I've been told). Each incident is completely different, and took place at least a year a part from each other. None of them were much fun... well, maybe the last one was a little fun.

Blackout #1:
This incident took place at Leslie's house, and also involved Colt 45 Double Malt liquor 40s(I was going through a gutter-lifestyle phase, is my only explanation). I drank three of the aforementioned beverages in about, oh... 40 minutes. I had been sitting in a chair, in the corner the entire night drinking. After drinking the nasty-ass 40s, however, I needed to bow to the "porcelain god". Now, I remember standing up. I remember going in the bathroom. I even remember sitting on the toilet, vomiting on the floor, passing out for about an hour with the door locked, and waking up to the sound of people telling me to open the door. After finally reaching up and unlocking the knob, I came out moaning like the undead(which I kinda was), and crawling on all fours. Embarrassing? Kind of. Typical? Yes.

I also, remember someone coming in the front door as I was crawling passed it and damned-near knocking me out(everyone loved telling that part of the story the next day). But, what I don't recall is the speech I gave. Apparently, before walking into the bathroom to half-explode and fall on the floor, I told all those in attendance how we all need to "get along, man" and "just chill out, man" because "we're all here to have a good time, man". Pathetic, huh?

Everyone, I was told, just stared at me since they were all stoned and not talking, let alone fighting, in the first place! I wish I had the moment on film so I could see myself preaching.

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Blackout#2:
This moment was kind of scary to me. It's the only time I've done something while I was drunk and wished I hadn't. Matt, Freddy, Tony L.(not Tony R. from my previous post), and myself went out to the campgrounds(all these stories are from Western Maryland, by the way). We had a roaring good time! Drugs, Booze, Music, Fighting, vomiting, etc.

The next morning, when I crawled out of my tent with the taste of beer and cigarettes in my mouth, I notice something in our bonfire. When I got up close to it, I realized it was melted plastic, all over the wood. I asked Freddy what had happened, and he said,"Someone threw all the plastic bags in the fire,". I looked at him kind of puzzled and asked him,"What bags?". He pointed to a broken park lock box on a post which read PLEASE TAKE A BAG TO TAKE YOUR TRASH WITH YOU. The box had a small lock on the side, but the door had been ripped off it's hindges. That's when I asked,"What asshole would do something like that!?". Freddy spoke as soon as I stopped, and stated,"You did! We yelled for you to stop, but you wouldn't listen. You threw them all in, man,". Again, pathetic.

Now, I don't mind passing out at someone's house or blacking-out and saying something dumb, but burning things is a little ridiculous and scary to me. Plus, I was wasted! I could've staggered and fell in, and burned my stupid ass pretty good.

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Blackout#3:
This one is pretty lame, but also pretty harmless. I got drunk on gin and juice(because no one else would drink the gin, so I had a bottle to myself), and peach shnappes(because it's like liquid candy, I don't give a f*ck as long as it will give me a buzz). I remember I was there with Matt, Freddy, and two girls I can't recall having human names. The girls were not diggin' the peach shnappes. As one girl put it,"Get away! You smell like a f*ckin' peach!" I couldn't argue that point.

Later that night I would puke all over some chid's room(we were at Matt's Sister's house while she was out of town), and have my friends roll me over, so I wouldn't die. The next day consisted of McDonald's hamburgers and slow healing. I was told however, that I had done something the night before that I couldn't recollect. It seems that the girls were drunk and acting wild. They decided to go out in the middle of the street(the main street in town) and take a piss in the middle of the road. And who was standing right next to them in the middle of the street watching closely? Yeah, this loser! Apparently, me and the girls were on the same page, where as my friends Matt and Freddy thought better of it.(This story also reminds me off a story where we were at a field party and a girl said she had to piss. Her friend said piss right here, we're in a field. The girl said OK, and squatted, and pissed. She just happened to forget to pull her pants down. She pissed herself!)

Three stories of sorriness! Enjoy. Believe me, I have more.

The taser: Police brutality's new weapon of choice!

I love these kind of news stories! Old ladies getting the ol' shock treatment! I'm not really surprised since Cops can't punch people in the head anymore(the sad times we live in). Maybe someday we'll return to a world of people getting choked with a nightstick, instead of these rather frightening taser incidents.



Although, I do have to say the 6-year-old in the linked story below, was asking for it.

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Taser Used on Woman in S.C. Nursing Home

Saturday, January 29, 200



ROCK HILL, S.C. — A police officer used a stun gun on a 75-year-old woman who became distraught when she could not locate a sick friend at a nursing home, according to an internal report.



Officer Hattie Jean Macon (search) received a verbal warning and was required to attend a Taser (search) retraining course after the investigation found she acted prematurely when she used the 50,000-volt Taser, according to the report released Thursday.



Macon was called to the nursing home after Margaret Kimbrell (search) refused to leave. Kimbrell has said she was distraught after the staff would not disclose the location of her sick friend, and she became concerned the friend had died.



Kimbrell jerked away from the officer and swung her arm at Macon, according to a police report. The officer then fired the Taser, police said.



Kimbrell, who has claimed she did not swing her arms or threaten Macon, was charged with trespassing and resisting arrest. Her lawyer has said she will plead not guilty and may sue the department.

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More fantastic taser-ings!

Second Child Shocked By Police Taser Gun

Police Use Taser On 6-Year-Old

I sold out!

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

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I have to admit American Warmonger was right. I like Haloscan. I just wasn't going to admit it at the time. If for some reason you wanted to read the old comments posted through Blogger, just click on the timestamp of the posts, and they'll come back up.

Misery

I wish I had the ability to care for the rest of the human race. I really do. Sometimes I realized how hollow I am toward the fate of my fellow homosapiens, and I get just a little sad.



On the flip-side however, I have the ability to take joy in other people's misery. Now, I'm not talking about anything hardcore, just the little things. Oh, the little miseries taste so sweet. Let's see, um...



1. I enjoy the sight of an elderly woman(preferably over 65) falling on ice with a bag of groceries. Is that wrong? How could it be when it feels sooo right?



2. When someone locks their keys in their car, I always want to dance on their hood until the locksmith gets their. It's just a splendid piece of self-fucked misery.



3. Watching some half-mongoloid on the local news saying,"I don't know how we're gonna get it all back," while their soda-can-on-wheels of a house, floats away(it might even have a #3 or #8 sticker in one of the windows). I just can't respect someone who lives in something with Michelins underneath. I guess that's just snobbery. Git-R-Done!



4. I enjoy watching the bottom fall out of my neighbor's trash bag, only four feet from the trash can on the curb. He needs a new robe, and probably shouldn't eat so many cans of Chef Boyardee. Plus, it's funny(like the old lady).



5. There's a pleasure in watching a car get pulled over only a few moments after it passes you on the highway. Kind of makes you feel superior in your "how far over the speed limit can I go?" guesstimation skills. Plus, anyone who passes you should be pulled over, right?



Little miseries are everywhere from elderly people breaking a hip, to the cashier about to bash your head in for grabbing the one can of soup that won't scan. There's also things that just aren't funny. They just cross the line.



1. Any kind of injury or mishap that occurs to the penis, testicles, or any part of the holy nether-regions. This is just not cool, my friends. The pee-pee is a soft and fragile reproductive unit, with it's own delicate ecosystem. Don't go there, ladies! Keep your size 6 clogs firmly planted on the floor, and you won't get shot in the face with a flare gun.



2. Dwarves dying in movies. I always cry when the dwarf dies. He was trying SOO hard! Poor little guy. A tear runs down my cheek when they wrap him up in a blanket, place his body in the ladies' hat box and push him down stream. Just moves me, is all.



4. Deaf people making that weird chewbacca sound when they try to speak. Well, yeah, I guess that IS funny!



5. Dat Phan, Carrot Top, Bob Saget, Rosie O'Donnell, Ellen Degeneres, Sue Murphy, Dave Coulier, and several other stand-up comedians. They just suck. I think they get so good at being bad they fall into that "so bad it's good" category, but to me they just SUCK! I don't give a fuck that your mother has a korean accent, bitch! Also, I think prop comedy is a gateway to satanism!



So, misery is good for a laugh. Especially when you're miserable yourself. Fuck the world, I say. I'm the one who deserves a candy cane and a blowjob, not those assholes! I suppose my views could be considered crazy.

Stories from the vault: Leslie's animal house

First, let me start off by saying that these incidents you're about to read, are from a completely different time in my life, and no longer reflect my more sociable and civilized personality. That goes for just about all my "from the vault" posts.

It's been a while since I've had a cold beer. I drink on occasion, but not very often these days. I think during Wrestlemania XX was the last time I got really drunk. But even then, I think I only had about 13 beers. A few years ago, however, I had a totally different relationship with alcoholic beverages.

It wasn't uncommon to walk into a party and see me vomiting on something, or someone. Some people, even alcoholics, claim to have never vomited. I on the other hand, would NEVER try to make such a claim. In fact, I would say I was an accomplished "projectile vomiter". I remember one incident involving two days of vodka, orange juice, and the Pizza Hut lunch buffet. While in the parking lot, I believe I reached the 13' mark easily. As for vomiting on property, I think I was also more experienced than any of my friends in that field, as well. Probably the worst item I destroyed belonged to a girl, Leslie.

I was not feeling very well, after drinking three Colt 45 double malt 40s, when I decided to use the bathroom. When I tried to get in the bathroom I found it to be occupied by Leslie, the girl who rented the apartment. I banged on the door, and gracefully explained my situation. She said I had to wait until she finished doing her hair. Well, after about five minutes I couldn't wait any longer, so when I lied my head down on the pile of clean white clothes(all her white clothes, I came to find out) on the floor. Well, my stomach decided it was time to get rid of the 40s in my body, and my face erupted like a geyser. It was as if someone opened up a fire hydrant, and I vomited all over her whites. She was pissed. I told that was what she got for not letting me in the bathroom, and laughed.

Leslie's house was the site of many nights of excess. Mainly because Leslie was a skanky bitch, and she didn't mind when we would punch holes in her walls, and we didn't mind putting them there. Her house got trashed pretty bad one Saturday morning in particular. Our alcoholic friend, Jeremy, had passed out the night before, and we decided to have some fun with him.

Jeremy used to blackout and pass out hard. The night before, the bastard drank most of my rum, and passed out on the couch. To Jeremy's misfortune, Tony happened to be there. Tony was a skinny punk with glasses who liked to huff propane and gasoline, and talked big, and tried to act big. On this morning, Tony saw a chance to act cool and f*ck with Jeremy. His first move was running a pair of electric clippers up the back of Jeremy's head(Jeremy didn't even begin to wake up). After that, he decided to get artistic. He rubbed shaving cream all over Jeremy's face, stuck a heavy flow maxi-pad to his forehead, and then sprinkled Fruity Pebbles on his head for just the right amount of color and texture. After all this Jeremy still didn't seem to be on the verge of waking up. We were impatient, we wanted to see his reaction. That's when Tony stepped in again.

Everyone expected Jeremy to flip out when he woke up, so everyone(except for me) got into the bedroom, and stuck their heads out the door to see his rising. Tony yelled out,"Hey, motherf*cker!" at the top of his lungs. Jeremy didn't move. So, Tony picked up a 3 lb. platform shoe and threw it from across the room. It sounded like the crack of a baseball bat, as it bounced off the side of Jeremy's skull. Some of his Fruity Pebbles fell off from the impact. Slowly he started to awaken. As he rose to his feet, the bedroom door slammed shut. Jeremy felt his face and started going apesh*t. "What the f*ck?! Who the f*ck did this?! Was it you, motherf*cker?!" he shouted in my direction. "Hell no, man! They're all in there!" I knew I would look guilty locking myself in the bedroom with them, which is why I declined the offer to get in. Jeremy was still clutching the empty rum bottle in his right hand, and the maxi-pad was still on his head. He threw a punch into the wall and caved in the drywall about 5 inches. He did that about three more times before kicking the bedroom door off it's hindges. "Motherf*ckers!" was all that came out of his mouth, when he got into the bedroom, and the curtain was blowing out the window. They all ran away like little bitches. It was pretty damned funny while it was happening.

A few days later Jeremy caught up with Tony. When I saw Tony he was missing some hair on the back of his head. It seems he was given the offer of taking an ass-kicking or also getting his hair cut. He chose the second option.

Sounds kind of strange now, but that was a typical day with my friends back then. Which is probably why I had such a dismal junior year in high school.

Leslie's house was a crazy place for a while, but so was Joel's house(that's another story). I stopped hanging out at Leslie's after a while. Shortly before I quit going there, she had a funny thing happen to her.

She was sitting in her house with some of the guys from the high school football team, huffing propane. They used to go to Lowe's and buy the small camping-size Coleman tanks of propane, get a Tootsie Pop, and use it to push in the top of the tank to huff propane."My lips are numb," was a common expression during these inhalation sessions(which I never took part in). Well, as Leslie and the boys are getting zombie-fied, she's sitting Indian-style on her floor by the coffee table, huffing away. It's hard to say without giggling, but the "rocket scientists" had candles burning on the table(yeah, you see it coming, don't you?). She leaned too closed to one of the candles while she was huffing, and the fuel coming out right under her mouth, ignited. The bottle turned into a giant blow torch, and her entire head became engulfed in flames.

She started screaming for someone to help her, and put the flames out. She was surrounded by a bunch of completely stoned fools, so they did the first thing they thought of. They stomped on her f*ckin' head to put out the fire! And it worked. They completely extinguished the fire by trampling her melon on the floor. The next time I saw her, her face was pink and she had no eyebrows. Her bangs were also singed off. I think I laughed for about a year everytime I saw her after that.

I have a few other stories about Leslie's but they fall into a few other categories, as well. I'll have to remeber to tell those ones too.

UKD 01/28/05

The Comic Strip "Ugly Kids Daycare" by Norrin Radd



















01/28/05

Stories from the vault: The state trooper and friends

(I thought I might get some moments out of my head before I forget them, or so I can begin forgetting them)


This following story took place in La Vale, Maryland. Some time between '97 and '99(due to my substance abuse at the time, '96 to '00 are kind of a big blur timeline-wise).

First let me lay out the main players in this production.

Freddy: One of my best friends since my freshman year of high school. Weight lifter, classic rock and rap music fiend. All-around laidback guy.

Matt: Also one of my best friends since about junior year of high school. Went to the rival high school across town. Baseball player, wanna-be playa, and Mr. backwards-baseball-cap guy. Casual stoner. Only one of us motivated enough to get a driver's license at 16.

Me: The silent one. The art club/show member, straight C student. Slept everyday during Algebra class. Knew people from every group but mostly the "burnouts". Usually the only one with money, and the one that kept Matt talking to Freddy, and vice versa.

The setting was a cool fall night, and we were cruising the highway outside La Vale. We had gone to Bob's Billiards and shot some pool, and talked with some of the other guys from school(Bob's Billiards was the hot hang-out spot since there really wasn't anywhere else to go in the small town of Cumberland). After getting our asses beat by Freddy in a few games of pool, as we usually did, we left Bob's and started driving back towards town.

At the time, Matt drove a '92 Pontiac Grand Prix. To be honest, it kind of sucked. Mostly, because we were so rough on it(cigarette burns were endless). Whenever Matt and Freddy would get pissed off at each other, somehow the car always became a point of argument. Freddy would say something about Matt never buying any of the drugs, and also expecting us to give him gas money all the time. Matt would tell Freddy he could walk home. Then Freddy would say something like,"I only hang out with you because you have a f*ckin' car, anyway,"

Matt hated that line. To be truthful, Freddy wasn't really lying. Matt would piss us off by saying stupid things to girls(there's too many examples), or by ditching us for some other people. Freddy would only forgive him because he needed a ride somewhere, and Matt had a car. I thought their arguments were pretty damned stupid, and never got involved(except for the one time I prank called Matt on Freddy's behalf, leaving a message at his parents' house saying he owed me money for some drugs he stole from me).

So, as I was saying, we were cruising along in Matt's Pontiac, floating in space staring up at the stars and listening to The Geto Boys(we played The Resurrection constantly). We had just smoked the last bowl and were all silently listening to the stereo. Just about five minutes after the last round, red and blue lights come through the rear window. It was a Maryland State Trooper.

Matt gets a wide-eyed look all of a sudden. He turns to me and Freddy, asking,"I wasn't speeding... I wasn't speeding... Was I?!"

He could have been speeding. I don't think any of us were looking at the speedometer. We were too busy gazing at the moon. It was a good question, but neither Freddy, nor myself, were prepared to answer it for Matt.

Freddy was silent, but sat upright and stiff as a robot. I was also silent, but for some reason I wasn't really worried(I think I was delusional).

We pulled off the road and onto the shoulder. As we sat there for about five minutes(that took ten minutes to go by), Matt continued to ask us his new favorite question, and Freddy finally spoke. At that moment he uttered the stupidest thing I think I had heard up to that point. "I'm gonna drop the pipe out the window,"

"No, you're not!", I said as forceful as I could(which wasn't very forceful after a dub-sack)"Keep it where you have it. If you toss it, we're all gonna get busted,"

Just then, a flashlight was pointed directly in the backseat and into my face. I squinted and turned my head slightly. My eyes were as red as stop signs(my eyes stay red for hours after I've come down, but at this moment I was still in space). He then asked Matt for his license and registration, and walked back to his cruiser without giving us a clue about what was going on. When he stuck his head in the window he must of smelled something because he sniffed in the air real hard, and then turned away.

I remember during this time, I kind of woke up and saw one of those newspapers spinning toward the screen like some old detective movie, with the headline "Local Teenagers Busted!" and our three pathetic mugshots underneath. I think my paranoia was just kicking in(my most common side-effect). I think Matt and Freddy were already sweating the situation. I knew Matt was because he had pulled his baseball cap off and was rubbing his head. It was a sure sign he was nervous since that hat was basically glued to his head like some human cartoon character.

Then, the state trooper returned, lean into the window, and said to Matt,"I'm giving you a warning ticket, your taglight is out. Ok, you guys... have a good night."

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe the guy didn't smell the marijuana in the car(we could). I couldn't believe he didn't notice my bloodshot eyes, or the two sweaty guys in the front seats. And to think we would have actually gone to jail if one of us hadn't said what he was going to do, before he actually did it.

The ride home was weird. The trooper was a complete buzz-kill. We were all kind of in shock, and no one really spoke on the ride back.

Of course, we did the same thing the next weekend! But the State Trooper was still on our minds for a while. Matt got his taglight fixed and got into the habit of checking all his lights whenever we went out.

I'm not sure why I chose this story to tell first. I have much better ones, but for some reason this one came to mind tonight.

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Cheech and Chong's Dave RealAudio