He was a sheik! Quite handsome and a dare devil but not a pervert.

Did he show you his camel clutch?

Oh yeah I forgot the time I dated a millionaire supermodel! We rode to dinner in her yacht to her own private desert island. She was even more beautiful than Kate Upton. It's too bad that she wasn't a pervert bondage s&m type.

Oh, you were with Giselle! She settled for millionaire Tom Brady though.

In my case, I dumped him. He wasn't my type.:D

yes, he was

No but we did it on his camel hair carpet with sequined pillows out in the desert. It wasn't easy getting that long dress off of him though. When we were done I did a belly dance.

ROFL

No he was younger, dark and handsome.

When I was 19 and living in Urbana Illinois, once got jacked way up on zanax and hit the clubs with a buddy and an air force fireman from a nearby but now defunct AFB who was ****ing said buddies sister.

Things got crazy.

Somehow got separated from them in a totally different club lol.

Came to in an extremely opulent frat house with a baby grand piano in the main room.

black out.

Come to schmoozing with a group of people.

black out.

Come to in time to catch a lone girl cornered, on her knees, giving head to what must have been 30-40 guys, they were crowded around her... giggling, enjoying it, she wasn't forced at all as far as I can tell.

black out.

Vaguely remember putting on a full on gorilla suit, hair and everything... top, bottom, mask... the whole bit.

Black out.

Woke up in the hallway of said frat house in said monkey suit, sans mask, with my snakeskin cowboy boots missing... had to stumble down to a local pizzeria barefoot in like January, snow on the ground, and call my buddy for a ride home.

They looked at me like I was stone crazy walking in there hahahaaaaaaaaaa.

The biggest disappointment? the only regret? that some college chick didn't end up taking me home, swear to God that pissed me off for days on end. I was pretty damn good looking if I do say so myself back then, banged plenty of college girls in those days... but no one wanted me that night :deevee:

I've got a story that usually wows a few people about a small town in Nebraska that's tried to kill me on three seperate events over the course of fifteen years.

I'll tell it some time.

That's disgusting bep

This needs to be told... its time to let your burden go, G.

:hmmm:

Just think I almost coulda been a princess of Dubai.

In college, one night a bunch of us were sitting in a dorm room smoking pot and drinking beer, listening to heavy metal. One of my buddies had recently broke up with a girl on the same floor of the dorm (co-ed). He begins by stating how much of a bitch she is. That, of course, is followed by how much of a bitch the rest of the gals on the 7th floor of Tenochca hall at SDSU really are. In fact, it evolves into an entire drinking game based on the newly created 7th floor bitch scale, a 1 to 10 scale, where a 1 is pretty damned cool, and you might **** a 10, just out of spite. We were already on shaky ground with most of the girls, as I orchestrated a threesome with two of them but denied it, and then two other guys and I managed to knock on all their doors, distract them, and then reverse the peep holes in their doors, allowing all the guys to go back later and "check up on them", allegedly of course.

Well, as luck has it, one of the guys on the floor is some sort of Radio Shack, electronics, stereo whiz. He advises us of his technical abilities, and we hatch our plan.

He will take the cover off of the speaker in one of our dorm rooms. He will remove the speaker, re wire some shit, and add a microphone. We will then broadcast a full episode of the "bitches of the 7th floor", complete with ratings and background music, Iron Maiden to be exact.

Although we were skeptical that he could pull this amazing feat off, we set a date. We even sent little notes under the doors of the gals on the 7th floor. We sneak a keg into the dorm in a "portable closet" that was supposed to be a gift from a parent. We order a shit ton of pizza from Dominos. Then, after a couple of hours of drinking beer and chowing down horrid pizza, we begin the broadcast. It seems like it is going great. In fact, we go through the entire female roster of the 7th floor. Only one problem. Radio Shack boy isn't all he's cracked up to be.

The girls on the 7th floor are steaming hot as they hear, one by one, why they are such a bitch. As it turns out, even the ones that scored a 1 or 2 were pissed, just on principal.
Unfortunately, our Radio Shack loving self proclaimed technical master ended up having us broadcast this little event to the entire dorm. All 12 Floors, and the admin and checkin offices. Oops.

A few hours later, once campus police convinced us that we did indeed have to open the door, our little party was disbanded. Four of us got shipped to other dorms, including yours truly, as I was one of the original conspirators. All of us had to go to "sensitivity training", whatever that was.

We all graduated, moved on, and became successful guys. I'm actually still pals with two of the girls from that dorm. Funny to look back now, 30 years later, and realize how stupid I was at 18.

Every dirtball with an apartment and a beat up european car is a sheik to those people :)

My life has been one long funny ass and great story........

pics or gtfo

I would need to put the NSFW wrapper all over them! ROFL

We're waiting..........

What was sensitivity training like, this?

It was more like four young men getting baked then sitting through two Saturday's of classes with the giggles

Freshman year was Shangri-La, looking back. We were assigned a 4 person corner room. Which was about the size of 3 2-person rooms, so we already had a square footage advantage.

We proceeded to move the bunk beds to one corner and put a partition between them so we could place them side-by-side. The other side we filled with a fooseball table, couches, and entertainment center [something relatively unknown, even in homes, in 1989-90].

Then the mother lode. The liquor store in town went out of business and had a 75% off sale. We must have bought and squirreled away $200 in top shelf liquor, regularly priced $800. Never got crazy, just a nice place to get pleasantly buzzed and either play cards, play fooseball or watch a movie in surround sound [Oooohhhh!!] The way the room was situated, RAs couldn't see in to where we 'recreated' on the far side of the room, so we could 'recreate' in relative peace.

The closest we got to trouble was when someone pulled the fire alarm, and mysteriously, there we were with our girlfriends in t-shirts standing next to us on the sidewalk. But even then, it was just a sideways glance from the RAs.

I'm still deadly shooting from the back two in fooseball.

Rico wrestled?

I have a hard time picturing that...




...eh, nope. No I don't...

Tell us a story Rausch

My top 2 I'll only tell in person.

No. 3 was (somewhat) witnessed by another planeteer.

Over a 3 day period I got drunk with Otho from the Bettlejuice movie, got drunk with (one of my ****ing idols) Tom Savini and a Canadian official trying to get a mission to Mars funded, met and had a about a 10 minute conversation with Peter David (IMHO the best comix writer out there,) watched David Carradine's drunk ass get thrown out of a bar I was in (violently,) and hung out with a vacationing hooker who I milked for every bit of information she would give.

Looking back I was young and horribly selfish. This man gave me a key to a door that opened a world I would never have had access to. My only point to being there was to help Misplaced Chiefs Fan do his thing. Instead I went full on Raush mode and accomplished little other than pissing him off. Likely forever.

That said I could type a ****ing novella about the few days I had in Atlanta and it would likely not scratch the surface. This was a Hunter S. Thompson experience if there ever was one and I feel a burning urge to put it to paper every time I touch the keyboard. There is absolutely no way I could ever repay the man for the 3 day stretch of insanity he allowed me.

In fact he sent me pics later to...clarify events I didn't even remember that just added to the moment.

So I will take this moment to thank you, as a grey-beard now, for making the mistake of allowing me to come with you and have the best 3 day stretch of my life...

Note to self. Amend trade show guests list.

Most of my stories are weird drug stories.

I grew up in Louisburg Ks, there was big 2 acre farm pond out in the country we called Lake 5. My brother and I along with several of our friends had either dirt bikes or smaller street bikes at the ripe old age of 13 to 17. We the county well and would travel the countryside on our bikes by way of the county gravel roads. At times finding ourselves up to 30 miles from home at the other end of the county.

Several of us had girlfriends and since I was the oldest I had a girlfriend a year older than me that would get her parents car. Sometimes we would all meet up at Lake 5 for our own crazy times. At times either the girls or the boys would have the pond just to ourselves. It was a semi secluded place, a good 1/4 mile back in the field, only visible by one side of the 2 county roads leading to the property.

One day we thought we had the pond to ourselves. These crazy bitches sneaked up to within a 100 yards of the pond from the west and surprised us. This is the entrance that is covered well so you can not see anybody coming in until they get right up on top of you. They are just giggling so we're thinking come girls, jump in just like the many times you have done before.

Here we were, 8 of us out there on a hot summer day, taking a dip before the girls showed up, not knowing they would be there.Not wanting to get our clothes wet, we all stripped down and jumped in. Lake 5 had a long deck that extended out in the water 25 yards with a diving board on it. Once in the water, you can not see anything to the west except the deck. You can only see the road to the north if you are on the far east end of the pond.

So here they are, laughing at us, giggling as we are expecting them to just jump in. Instead they just grabbed our clothes and left, hit the ****ing road laughing their ass's off at us. So now what, Here we are STRANDED, at Lake 5 in our birthday suits and motor bikes, 6 miles from home.

Now, being as my dad was well know in the county, hauling grain & livestock to the market for many farmers and my uncle is the Chief of Police in Louisburg, we were a group of boys that are well known as well. But being young, dumb and naive with little common sense at the time, we jumped out of the water, got on the bikes to attempting chase them down. They left us our helmets & shoes along with a bruised and humiliated ego. So here we go streaking through the countryside for about an hour, dusty roads, pissed off, chasing a car that we are not going to catch. Finally we just gave up, each man is on his own getting home with his glory exposed.

Half of us lived in the country while the other half, myself, my brother and 2 friends from town that rode on the back of our bikes. The family rule ( from my Dad & Uncle ) was not to ride the bikes in the city since my uncle was the Chief of Police. It was 1.5 miles from our side of town to the city limits. Most city folks knew us since the town small, maybe 1000 people at best. We always had to walk the bikes 1.5 miles both ways every time we went for a ride. :shake: On No Freaking Way this time, we had already spent an hour chasing these bitches through the countryside to no avail. We had those bikes screaming through country not stopping at any stop signs any where. I wasn't planning on walking that freaking bike home, I'm riding that bitch to the house as fast as I can.

We make it to just short of the city limits thinking we were OK, nobody has saw us, we never got caught, almost home with the toughest stretch coming up .... within the city limits! :eek: Now how in the hell are we going to make that 1.5 miles through the city without getting caught?:hmmm: I'm going for it, I can do this, even with my naked friend on back with my brother and his friend chasing.

Now little did we know that the county sheriff department gotten a few complaints of kids riding around the countryside naked. They had descriptions of the bikes and a couple of them even said it was us since they knew us through my dad. ( Yeah, you can see what's coming now ) So we don't know that the sheriff and my uncle are aware of the events taking place.

But here we are still thinking we have a chance to somehow get home as we are approaching the city limits of Louisburg. Awaiting 1/2 mile from the city limits is my dear old uncle. Unaware that the girls surprisingly drove back to town and gave him our clothes. He busted out laughing so hard about it he decided to meet us outside of town knowing which way we traveled in and out of town. The good thing was he never told the county sheriff department about it.

We still had to walk our bikes through town back home. But hey, at least we had our clothes on. My uncle told us he knew it was us before the girls gave him our clothes since we had told him once before we would go skinny dipping with the girls out there and he figured that they must of took our clothes. My brother and I, along with 6 of our friends had to face our parents about it that night.

Lesson learned ...... Never let your guard down and don't trust a bunch of crazy girls.

Nude bitch?

NTTAWWT

Though I'd be judicious in use of brakes.

Hopefully he didn't feel a poke

I'm just praying there was a back rest on the bike so they weren't nude Heimliching each other all over the ****ing countryside.

Dual naked bike ride....only on CP ROFL

God I have led a boring life.

Me too. I can't think of much worth the effort of typing it out.

Hop on and snuggle up, honey!!

http://www.themoviegourmet.com/wp-co...Ned-Devine.jpg

This thraed has had me going over stories in my head since it started. Couldn't type any out for one reason or another lol. But it's been nice to reminisce

I know what you mean. I had my old stories going through my head, too. The only problem was they put me to sleep.

As a Police Officer I ran into several situations, this one here is long but may be entertaining if you were not, uh, well, me.

In the summer of 1983, I was the Chief of Police in LaCygne,Ks and being new in town for just a month it takes time to get to know people. The County Sheriff advised me of the local hoodlums and a old fart, a guy named Gene Trinkle. You see Gene has been the town gorilla for years, bad moods and alcohol do not mix well inside of Old Mean Gene. Gene was stronger than a country ox in his prime years of life, anytime the police was called it took a minimum of 3 to 4 officers to take Gene to jail. He was that bad during his prime, everybody had stories to tell about Gene.

So here I am, 25 years old, 6'4", 225lbs solid, worked out steady and athletic. I'm thinking here, what the hell can a man 60 years old do to a young man of 25 in great shape? That I should be afraid of a 60 yr old man ? :hmmm:

So I'm at the house fixing supper one evening on my night off, I have a young 21 yr old kid over talking to him about becoming a reserve officer on my days off. I have my girlfriend over and I get this call around 6:00 pm that old mean Gene was in the local tavern causing another disturbance.

The Co.Sheriff, my GF and this young kid I was thinking of training all said, wait until backup gets there before I go in. Each of them all advising me of who he was, it's Gene Trinkle! So I picked up the phone, called the tavern, spoke to the owner,she advised me he has broken a few chairs and tables. I asked her if I could speak to Gene, she asked him to talk to me. He said F**k No, I'm talking to no f**king pig. Then I here the sound of broken glass, I can here him laughing and he was telling me he will not let the customers leave the tavern. Then he yells out, come and get me piggy wiggy, you sawed off low life bastard and then I heard more glass breaking. So I'm in blue jeans, nice shirt, no time to change, grabbed my gun belt, shield and off we go.

Despite the plea of my future wife and others, I get in the car and called in on duty, explaining the latest details while in route to the scene. The sheriff told me he was about 20 minutes away as well as another deputy and that they were going to call out 2 more off duty deputies. I'm thinking to myself, Good Grief, this guy is 60 F**king Years Old ! Anyways, here I am with this young guy, I asked him if he was scared, he said yes. I told him to stay back away and watch since he wasn't commissioned yet, assist only if I tell him too. You could tell he was scared to death as we approached the tavern.

I pulled into the lot and checked out of the car, I could hear sirens on the radio from the other officers talking on the radio about how far they were away. Each one pleading to me to wait, talk him outside or just wait till they get there. I'm thinking shit again, who is this F**king animal anyways, I have yet to lay eyes upon him or ever speak to him. So I hear more glass breaking as well as other items being broken or thrown inside, OK, I'm going in ! First mistake I make was , it had a gravel parking lot with concrete curbs secured to the ground and I parked on the closest curb to the tavern door, which was way to close to the door to start with. The tavern has a wooden screen door and a cheap hollow door that you would use inside your house like a bathroom or bedroom door, not as a secured door to a tavern. So I go in, immediately I have to turn to the right and go down this 5, maybe 6' long hallway entrance. I see Gene ( standing in the middle of the floor with maybe 8 - 10 people behind the bar ) approximately 20 to 25 feet from me. I walked into the lobby and turn to my left, allowing more space to move around, not to be cornered and told Gene that it's time to step outside, that he was under arrest for destruction of property as well as disorderly conduct.

He looked at me and started to laugh and said, where is your f**king army. The Second mistake I make is telling him, I don't need no army, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, that it was his choice. He laughed, cussing at me like a sailor and the next thing I know he let's out this bellering sound of a moose, charging at me like a raging bull. :eek: Damn I having visions of myself as a bull fighter with a raging human? To be clear here, you could tell he was drunk on his ass for he was having trouble with his speech and standing straight. Any and all of his movement was impaired, so I'm thinking this is a piece of cake, I got this! :shake:

OK, any and all movement, this was my Third Mistake I made, I assumed,
as he charged toward me there was a wall about 4 feet behind me so I just moved at the last second just like a bull fighter and watched him plow into the wall, head first. You see I was cocky, confident in myself and a smart ass , toying with this drunk bastard. Turns out the wall was hollow so the paneling and 2 x 4's didn't slow him down to much. By the way Gene stood 6'8", about 300 - 320 lbs and all it did was just pissed him off even more. So I'm backing up to the far wall,as I do all the people inside run out the front door as Gene runs towards me again, this time it's 40 feet to the freaking wall and as I'm backing up, I'm hitting tables and chairs he has not destroyed yet. So I take a chair that is by me and push it across the tiled floor towards him. OK so I'm thinking this is going to be fun to watch this idiot go down. Uh,that was my Fourth mistake, This 60 year old man jumped over it while running forward, landed up right, took one step and did a perfect forward roll, right into me. I'm f**king stunned, stunned I tell ya after having been rolled over by a 60 year old human bowling ball. I get up quickly and he grabs a leg, holding me, hand to hand combat, I drill him with a left handed round house. It was like hitting a brick wall, damn, next thing I know we go crashing against some of the chairs and tables in the place that hasn't been destroyed yet, Shit, this f**king hurt like hell man, screw that fake TV shit you see, this is f**king real.

So by now here we are, more hand to hand, I'm quicker yet I knew by now he was stronger. My days of calf roping, hay fields did nothing to prepare myself for this bull elephant. I have never been whipped before in my life ( didn't go looking for fights either so I can't say I was a bad ass ) but I'm beginning to think this 60 year old drunk bastard was going to clean my clock if I didn't keep moving. He picks up a chair, throws it at me, I duck from it and then here he comes, charging my ass again, 10 feet away. Again, I step away and boom, he hits an outer wall this time that is solid, but doesn't go down! :shake: I'm bout ready to draw my gun at this point but instead he is dazed a little. Yes an opening, my chance to cuff him, I grab a hold of his right arm and gave it a good twist, right into a hammer lock with my other arm around his neck. I'm putting everything I have in that hammerlock while this bastard is trying to hit me anyway he can in the head, my body, anywhere but I have the advantage here behind him. Thankfully he was drunk enough that his shots were missing as I'm telling him to drop to his knees and give up. I finally have him, this is going to work! Yeah right!:rolleyes: That was mistake number five as this raging bull took off again running towards the other far wall, 45 - 50 feet away, with yours truely riding his bareback, all the while keeping that arm in a hammerlock, hanging on for dear life. Enter Mistake Number Six not letting go before we took that express way to hell into the wall, this bastard turned sideways so that I took some of the hit.:eek: :cuss: ( WTF was I thinking here, heat of the moment incidents do not always produce correct decisions ) OK, By now I am really pissed so the anger in me is taking over yet some how I still had a death hold on that hammer lock. Sure enough, I drove that damn thing up to his f**king back to his neck trying to break it. He let out another one of those moose calls and headed for the door, yeah the door that some dumb ass closed on their way out of the tavern as we were dancing around inside. So here we go through both of those weak ass doors, a combined 500 lbs of raging anger heading towards the patrol car. Oh yeah, did I mention about the dumb ass that parked the car too close to the door back on Mistake # 1. So here we are as we lose our balance going through both doors, we are going down like the Hindenburg, I rammed my left shoulder into the front bumper. OMG !

Yes, by now I am in severe excruciating pain, yet some miraculous f**king way, I still have that arm in a hammer lock. This 60 yr old bastard that just did a dam good rendition of David Banner and The Incredible Hulk has this boy worn out. But wait a second, what's this, he's not moving? Well at least hardly moving, he had hit his head on the bumper of the patrol car. The kid, yeah, remember the kid who wanted to be a reserve police officer, who stayed outside the whole damn time ? Yeah that one, he finally lent a hand. So by now I really want to break this f**kers arm, legs, anything to decapitate this bastard. Jut like 2 heavyweight fighters, both down trying to regain little or find enough strength to finish the other off, I had gotten around to the point I had a knee in the middle of his back holding that hammerlock in place with my weight. So while he was somewhat unconscious, I was able to pull the other arm around while the kid put the cuffs on.

By now I can here the sirens coming, damn the back up is freaking here. Here I am with gravel in my arms, legs, a left shoulder down to my asshole, sitting on top of this bastard as they pull into the parking lot. They all seem to be amazed of the situation, in disbelief that old Mean Gene was cuffed on the ground. They took over while I had to get up and find a place to rest, I was spent, I had nothing left.

So I take this animal to jail, he manned up, serves his jail time, fines, damages at the tavern just as he has every other of the many time before in his life. But this one was the time that Old Mean Gene realized he was finally too old to do this anymore. I met Gene about 2 months after the tavern brawl and he was as nice as you could find in a guy. Calm, peaceful, laid back, very friendly. So we sat and talked for a few minutes.

Gene told me growing up as a kid that he didn't have many friends. This angered him and he had trouble with it because people feared him for his size and anger. So to Gene as he got older, his excitement was to get drunk and fight some poor bastard that didn't know him that tried to take him on. Well everybody stopped fighting him so he turned to the police for fun and games. Really? This is a f**king game for him because it always took several guys to take him in? Are you kidding me ? So when Gene drank, he got drunk and all of the old feelings came back haunt him for the lack of having friends as a child. His temperament due to the alcohol bringing back old feelings was the leading issue why he would fight the police. He told me he never wanted to hurt nobody and that he always held back when fighting the police for fun. He told me that he was getting too old to do this anymore and that he always told himself that if there was ever a guy bad enough to take him in by himself, it was time to give it up. He said he was sorry and that it would never happen again. I told him, Gene, in all fairness, I was ready to give up and walk away when we hit that car, I was in so much pain at the time, I wanted no more. I told him I hope I have the strength of a f**king bull dozier at age 60 like he does. Again, he said he was sorry, it will never happen again. I told he was right, it wouldn't, next time I'm going to shoot you in the f**king knee and tell the judge I feared for my life!:harumph:

He laughed his ass off and we never had a confrontation again for the next 2 years I was there. I had heard later that that one night led him to seek professional help for his issues and he has walked a fine line since. I'm sure he is probably dead by now and haven't from anybody for the last 20 years. Now,here I am 32 years later paying for an injury in my back from that night of hell.

Moral of this story, Never be cocky and judge a book by it's age. Alcohol and mentally challenged people with mood swings have unbelievable reerun strength.

I might have won the battle but I got my ass kicked like it's never been before in my life, it has left lasting results.

In high school I was part of a close knit group of BIG TIME KU fans, myself and 3 others. One was a grade ahead of us. At graduation, he chose to follow his girlfriend to K-state because she was "the one." So like idiots, a year later the three of us followed him to K-state. We got a house just west of the stadium. Fast forward a little, my sophomore year I was in an Econ400 midterm with roughly 80 or so other students. During the test, my phone which was in one of the pockets of my book bag, begins to ring and of course my ring tone is the KU fight song. It seemed like it took me an eternity to fish through all of the pockets of my bag to find it. Of course, as I bring it out of the bag, the sound is no longer muffled and "I'm a Jayhawk" is blaring so everyone can hear it. I start getting haughty sighs and scoffs of derision. The teacher is eyeballing me with the biggest WTF look you've ever seen...(we're in a test remember...AKA COMPLETE SILENCE). I have the power button held down and the damn thing still isn't going off, so to end my embarrassment, I rip the battery from the back of the phone to stop the music and throw the two pieces back into my bag. By this point I was so flustered, it took me a while to get back to test taking mode. I was one of the last 2 or 3 people to leave the room. Oh and btw....I haven't seen my older buddy's "the one" in over 8 years.

I'll take my shot at one.

One summer when I was in high school I was checking the irrigation with my sister's first husband. He knocked her up and was a fairly worthless human, so of course all he could get was a job for my dad. So here we are in this pickup, me with my rubber boots on, because I'm the one that had to go check the water. He's driving us down this trail road when we pass a prairie dog.

If there is one thing I ****ing hate, it's rodents. Especially cocksucking hole digging bastards. You see, we farm no till. So some bastard hole-rat decides to homestead in my farm, it isn't as easy as just plowing the field. So I look over at him, and say we should stop and kill it. Now he was an Okie, and what does he do? Shuts the pickup off. Not back up and try to get a little closer to it, just shuts her down.

I look at him and say, "YOU COULD HAVE BACKED UP ASSHOLE," and bail out of the pickup. The race is now on. So here's the picture, I am probably 30 yards behind this prairie dog and sprinting in my rubber boots. Rubber ****ing boots. Now, in high school, I could run. I wasn't all world or anything, but I could move. You remember that I said I hate rodents? I also hate losing races (I ran track). I had to look like the most reeruned human in the history of mankind.

I fully acknowledge that if he had been close to a town, I was done, but this must have been a scout looking for a place to expand the town. He was booking it straight down the trail road. Straight line? Advantage Buehler445. It takes me 150 or 200 yards, but I catch up to the little bastard and stomp on his ass. I am ****ing tired. I just sprinted in high gear for 200 yards in rubber boots. When I'm standing on this little bitch, he whips around and starts chewing on my foot. Guess who doesn't care because he's wearing rubber boots ROFL.

After a while I'm catching my breath with this little bastard chewing on my boot my brother in law comes jogging up...and I'm not shitting you....puffing on his inhaler! After he catches his breath and we laugh about the whole thing, we stomp the thing to death.

tl;dr I ran down a prairie dog in floppy ass rubber rubber boots with a 30 yard deficit on the bastard.

But what was your footwear like?

Because I refuse to be patronized....

http://www.northerntool.com/images/p..._2000x2000.jpg

I wish I could still run like that.

thank goodness you weren't wearing flip-flops, your ankle would have been gone...nor out running a mongoose.

One of mine is in the CP Hall Of Classics called So This Officer Takes My Drink and Flask Today.

The first of the story is really not all that great,it's what happened after I posted my mini-rant on a public message board that made it a classic oh shit story.

I work in a pretty entertaining office for a lot of reasons, and one of the benefits is you just never know what is going to happen.

This winter on the first brutally cold day, a phone rings. On the other end is a local land lord/friend who has just found something in one of his houses that causes him pause. I will say that if a long time landlord tells you to come and see something, you just go.
I know a guy who found 3 200lb pigs in an upstairs bedroom of a pretty decent house once.....so we knew this was worthy. 4 coworkers load up and drive to the location.

Upon entering, we quickly learn that this is one of those the guy lives here, is now in jail and off the map without notice situations. On the floor of the main room is an obvious "jack shack" matress with piles of spank bank videos and magazines in addition to the gallon size jug of lube and barrel of terrible towels.......but this isn't why we are called. People are filthy animals and that wasn't a-typical in landlord worlds.

Then we are introduced to the head scratcher. Keep in mind this house is abandoned unexpectedly, all items are there, but the heat wasn't turned on.

Further into the room we see 4 aquariums/cages. Inside one is a dead parrot/bird of some kind. Another contains a dead python of some kind, the third contains what appears to be a dead tarantula, and the 4th....empty.

We're trying to figure out what was missing from the 4th cage when someone touches the spider the size of a mans hand and it moves a leg. It's alive.

The spider box ends up in our office with a warming light and some water drizzled on it after a quick google search for "how to save a giant spider" or something. It comes to life angry like Popeye with a can of spinach. Someone driving near a pet shop asks a clerk what to feed it, so he brings home a few crickets and information.....they'll eat live mice.

As we stand around discussing the need to see a spider kill a mouse we see it, a mouse is in front of the glass on the front door. It is fate, an offering from the Gods. It is in the parking lot jumping through the same 2 wheel wells of a truck, lands on the sticky trap placed there, but it's too cold. That night, someone makes a trap with a bucket, string, beer can and some cheese and catches a country mouse.

Anxiety is great as we wait all day for everyone to return from their tasks for the battle. With great anticipation, I drop the barn mouse into the cage. It begins to explore, enters the tunnel of the spiders home and they both react, jumping away the mouse climbs atop a roost. With much prodding and forced interactions, there is only a brief, minor skirmish with no victor. The next day is friday and I fully expected to find a thanksgiving fat spider, but nothing has happened. Nothing happens all day. Boring.

Monday morning we roll in, only to find that over the weekend, there has been a savage murder in the cage and a creature is stuffing it's belly with fresh meat. I know what you're thinking...but you're wrong. The country mouse is a gangster like the fat kid in the videos from Baghdad during the war...Ralph S Mouse killed a tarantula twice it's size and was eating it's fill, looking satisfied and defiant. He strutted over to the former lair where the wood chips are freshly fluffed and laid in for a nap.

After 2 days of gorging himself on a spider, the gangster mouse was found dead.

The moral of the story is, if you're going to feed a spider a mouse, make it a sissy white city mouse.

The end.

There is just no way this thread is burned itself out.

Entertain me. Make me laugh. Make someone cry.

Mommy government loves us and will take care of us so long as she's in charge.

;)

Too many "Foot in mouth" stories to count.

I just realized that I had a music industry legend in my studio, today.

The man has worked with the Stones, Queen, Eurythmics, David Bowie, Paul McCartney along with far too many artists of today to count, and here I am talking about my contributions to the world of music.

:redface:

Come on people, many of you have not given us your best story in life.

Mine are driving-related near disasters.

1.) Driving back from Florida in the late 80s in a Ford Taurus with two other guys. Didn't realize there had been a giant snowstorm from Georgia to Virginia (this was in the days before the Internet). Got into Georgia on I-95 (which is a two lane road), flying up the fast lane, we pass a sign that says "Bridge Ices Before Road". Next thing you know, we're on the bridge and the car immediately turns sideways and starts sliding down the bridge perpendicular with us pointing at the second lane. At the end of the bridge is an accident in the fast lane with people stupidly standing at the back end of the cars. In front of me is a car to the left (moving to the left) and a car to the right (moving to the left). The people at the end of the bridge look up, do Buckwheat eyes, and jump for safety; I hit the gas, fishtail into the empty space between the two cars, and straighten out just in time to clear the accident. My friend in the car laughs hysterically for 10 minutes, finally gasping out, "That's the closest I've ever come to death."

2.) Fast-forward a year or two, driving up I-95 from Boston to Lowell MA to college in the snow (a daily one-hour commute each way). The highway is clear but, unbeknownst to me, up the road in the fast lane is one of those spots where everywhere decided to move over at the same point in their travels so the fast lane turns back into snow. I hit it, immediately spin in a circle, and am then sliding backwards in the second lane. Directly out my window, moving in the proper direction, is a guy in a van; I remember the two round headlights and the guy staring over his steering wheel in shock. I thought, "This is very bad," and hit the brake and cut the wheel, spinning across the third lane to stall out in the slow lane in the proper direction, where it promptly turned into a Steven King movie as a semi was barrelling towards my back end, blaring his truck horn while I tried to start my car. I got the car started and floored it into the breakdown lane just as he roared by. I was so pumped that I drove the rest of the way to school shouting, "Yeah!" in the car and banging the steering wheel. I got to school, walked right to the registrar's office, and withdrew. The following autumn I enrolled in a college in downtown Boston.

This is not my best story, but it's my best story from today. I can't find the peoplewatching thread, so I'll post it here.

I was walking to work today and saw two people sitting on a small wall talking to each other. The one facing away from me was in a very short mini-skirt.

All was looking good until I got within about 30 feet, and then my spidey sense started tingling. Oh, no no no.

Yep. That's a man, baby. He glances up as I pass, and he's clearly a man in a mini-skirt and a bad wig. He's talking to this other guy and as I leave I hear him say in a baritone voice, "It's cold today. I'm sure glad I wore panties. Heh-heh. Heh-heh-heh."

That wasn't how I hoped to start my day.

ROFL

You don't know any stories? Okay, I'll tell you a story. This is a newspaper. It's 90 percent bullshit, but it's entertaining. That's why I read it, because it entertains me. You won't let me read it, so you entertain me with your bullshit. Tell me a story, right now.

This story isn't mine, but it is arguably one of the better stories in CP history....It's Inmen quality to it's core. Bonus point to the person who can identify the original author.

TonyGonzalez (later PhonyGonzalez), wasn't it?

Since when have a lied?

It wasn't mr. Blond was it?

It was phobia

GuntherFan

You and I were both right as Phony and Guntherfan are the same poster. Apparently, the original thread was deleted:

http://www.chiefsplanet.com/BB/showthread.php?t=114141

Damn, I have more but I'm too busy tonight with the draft and Royals.

This is my story:

http://www.mandatory.com/2015/04/30/...s-naked-jumps/

LMAO

"College girls are easy"

It's not one of my best stories, but I had one of those ironic flashback encounters today.


I had some medical tests, one being an ultrasound. The technician was pretty unsocial throughout the process, at at the end, stands up, tosses a towel at me, says she has to go and to clean myself up and let myself out.

The entire situation felt backwards.....and as I walked out it occurred to me that 20 years ago, I'm pretty sure the situation WAS reversed.....kind of.

I felt so dirty as I walked past her "roomates" at the front desk during my walk of shame. Touche' lady...

Ok, so I've been driving down into the heart of East St. Louis delivering loads of corn to a place called Bunge, why on earth they put a grain elevator right down in the middle of town like that I'll never know.

Its close to the river but they could've chosen a thousand other locations just as close, I mean its RIGHT there next to the skyline and Ed Jones dome, its **** ing stupid... so anyway, the truck route out takes you through some super seedy looking places.

For the last 3 days there has been a white, lets say 04-07 Cadillac, parked off near an underpass in tall weeds... it hasnt moved nor have I ever seen anyone around it.

Why hasnt anyone went to investigate this abandoned, newer model car parked out in the weeds near an underpass LMAO? Guess thats just the inner city where things like that go unnoticed for too long, its been a long while since I've been down into the bad sides of big cities.

But today, while another guy and I waited for a reeeally long train to pass in this TOTALLY ambush ready area down there (no one would see a thing down in this mess) I see a car pull up and stop about 100 feet behind us... I'd heard the stories about hijackings in this area so I put the truck in reverse so they could see I had it there to ram their ass and back out of there if need be.

Long story short, they sat in the car for maybe two minutes, just as the very slow moving train starts to pass so we could go I notice the back doors open up on that car... me and the other guy moved out in a hurry.

But as soon as they seen that we were no longer stuck, they pulled a u turn and went the other way... my heart was racing because all I had was a tire iron type thing we use to unload the trailer.

You're not supposed to cross state lines with firearms, but you better bet that my .38 is coming tomorrow... had we been stuck there at the tracks any longer, they were gonna hold us up.

It was a damn shitty feeling to be sitting there with only a non-projectile firing piece of metal nearby.

MOTHER **** east st. louis and all of the pieces of shit in it, third day down there and was almost robbed... those people make me sick.

Yeah I avoid that cesspool at all costs. Even in the day now.

Man Smokes Dope on A1
 

Thus read the headline in the local paper. I was that man, and this is my story.

Knebworth, England, August of 1979, Led Zeppelin was playing an outdoor concert. Stationed at RAF Alconbury at the time, my friends and I were determined to be there. And show we did, arriving mid-set after an untimely delay to see Todd Rundgren perform immediately prior to Zeppelin playing.

Zeppelin rocked the estimated crowd of 200,000, and we got wasted drinking the 5 gallons of gin and lemonade I had brought to the show, but that is not the story. The story started 10 hours earlier: 8 a.m. and on the road from Alconbury to Knebworth.

We were a crew of eight, split into two cars of four. Eight o'clock on a Saturday is early for most airman of that day, and we were either groggy or hungover or both.

Besides the liquid refreshments, many were packing along some of the fine Red Lebanese that circulated profusely on base. A hard, brick red hash, it was a pain to break up and light, so I had taken to shaving it down with a razor blade into a powdery fluff that loaded and sparked easily. It was stored in a film canister and ready to go.

After a short time on the road, the decision was made to get our minds right and get the party started. Chuck and Eddie were in the front, I was in the back, and the pipe was going around. We pulled up besides our traveling party and Eddie (young and dumb and from Detroit) began waving and pointing at the pipe, letting our friends know the fun we were having.

Then, someone noticed we were being followed by the police, and panic began to set in. Eddie, holding the pipe, a small, brass one hitter, began to freak and tossed it out the window. I turned and watched it bounce down the roadway and noticed the eyes of one of the officers follow its path along with me.

Now, another decision had to made. Not in the clearest of minds, and in a bit of a panic, we decided to eat our stashes, not a terribly difficult chore, usually, with a brick hard hash. Not thinking, I tossed the fluff into my mouth and had every bit of moisture sucked dry. Unable to swallow, I sat in the back, mouth full of 4 grams of fine Red.

The police, who had been trailing, pulled in front of us and flashed their rear display, telling us to pull over. We did. Two officers got out and approached our car. One knocked on my window and asked what we were doing. Unable to speak, my mouth filled with fluff, I answered, "Mfff, ufff, oofff."

The officer opened the door and pulled me from the car and began demanding that I spit it out. He grabbed a hold of me and began dragging me to the side of the road. Reflexes set in, and I pulled my arm away from him and shook him off of me. Then I thought, oh shit, resisting arrest would get my ass kicked stateside. I better cooperate. I don't know if British police would do the same.

I quit fighting him, and he began pushing me in the back, demanding that i spit out whatever was in my mouth. Eventually, I fell to the ground. Knee in my back and his arms in a headlock, the officer continued to demand my cooperation. The envelope containing my ticket had fallen out of my pocket and lay on the ground in front of me. The officer picked it up and demanded I should spit into it. So I did, and two drops of spittle, containing tiny flecks of hash, went into the envelope.

"That will do," says he.

Evidence in hand, he let me up and began to walk the 15 feet back to car. He walked in front of me, leaving me to myself. Thinking that these British police sure were different from the police back home, I saw a wine skin on the ground, picked it up and finally was able to swallow and rid my mouth of that fine Red fluff. He turned, saw me drinking and told me to stop, but it was too late. Mission accomplished: good-bye fluff. I continued to empty the skin, so he grabbed me again and handcuffed me to car.

Able to talk again, I thought maybe I could talk my way out of this. "Officer, my name is excessive (named changed to protect the guilty). What seems to be the problem?"

He reaches over, shakes my right hand which is cuffed to the car and introduces himself, "Hello, my name is excessive, too."

"Officer, we weren't doing anything, just going to the concert, might we be on our way?"

"Sorry, no, we've already called it in and our sargent is on the way," he said, uncuffing me and putting me back in the car.

A few minutes later, they arrived, and the sargent looked in, saw us bloody-eyed and commented, "Bloody Yanks, 8 o'clock in the morning and look at them."

We were taken to the local station, removed of our belts and shoe laces and put into a holding cell, where we were to stay until we could be collected by whomever was on duty that morning back on base. Except, the buzz was starting to kick in, and we found ourselves laughing hysterically and joking with each other and the confused duty officer. This went on for hours, and could possibly be as high as I have ever been, 4 grams of Lebanese Red, fluffed and swallowed, working its way to my brain.

We eventually were taken back to base, and I was paraded around, lead back to my room, coaxed in to giving up the rest of my stash, and finally released back into the hands of our own. We saddled up, returned to the station to collect our car, and headed on our way to Knebworth.

The buzz had long ago worn off, but thanks to the gin and lemonade, a most excellent time was had by all. As the show ended, 200,000 stood up as one, and the 10 foot tall chain link fence that surrounded the venue gave way as the mass of humanity exited.

A week or so later, someone hands we the local paper and I see the headline: Man Smokes Dope on the A1. I used to have a copy, but it has since been lost, and all I have are memories of one fun day and a legendary concert by an all-time great band.

That is some hilarious shit right there.

Bunge is a huge grain company FWIW, and I would all but guarantee that terminal was there first. Almost all the concrete grain storage went up in the 40s and 50s.

Stay safe man. That is a very unfunny story, but just stay the hell safe.

Why would a couple inner city thugs want to jack a truck full of corn?

Tank and Turk?

Yep, I was hauling grain to Bunge back in the 70's, my Dad was hauling to them back in the 50's & 60's.

Because the green bean trucks are more heavily armed.

They don't want your corn, they want whats in your wallet after you dump that corn.

The truck route out of the place takes you through places where NO ONE can see whats going on (the back alleys behind the Casino Queen for anyone that lives down there) not that anyone in the city would do anything about it even if they did see it.

This place is in the heart of the city, tons of underpasses, woods, tall ass weeds and other places to jack you up at... like train tracks where some of the trains are like 5 miles long and move at 10 mph.

Several truck drivers have gotten jacked down there, a few killed.

Its illegal for a truck driver in Illinois to carry a firearm, but I'm seriously considering bringing what I've got... the exit area for trucks down there is Ambush City.

You have to go kinda slow, tons of woods and places to hide right next to the road... you don't even know, the place is a total shithole... you'd sure as SHIT be spooked too going through there, your blackness wouldn't make a damn bit of difference.

LMAO

Uh, ok..

When you unload the product they give you a check or something? A hefty wad of cash? Or are you saying they just want to rob you of your personal cash?

Dude, are you just trying to be a dick or what?

Yeah mfer, in the inner city, in east st. louis they'll jack a truck driver stuck at a train for whatever the silly sob has on him, its happened many times already and will happen many more times... does the reality of that offend you somehow?

Does the thought of black people doing something shitty personally offend you or what?

YES, your personal cash you dense mfer.

"lol"

****'em up Easy. I got your back boy homeboy. Give me that green light and I'm swingin' on this mutha****a

When I was in college, I worked night stock at a grocery store here in KC during breaks. It was always interesting people watching in the middle of the night. We had plenty of drunks and once in awhile, we'd get a couple that came in with one dragging the other around on a leash. The workers were an odd mix too and I think half of them would get baked before coming in. We had one guy use his one phone call from jail to let us know he wasn't coming in.

One night an attractive lady was shopping (something that always caught the eye of the all male crew) and one of the workers "Steve" decided to pull a prank on the night manager. Condoms were hard to find in this particular store as they were obscured by a support beam and customers frequently had to ask where to find them. Steve walked past the manager and said that he had to take care of something in the back, but there was a lady in aisle 8 looking for the condoms.

As was told to me by someone working by that aisle, the manager walked up to the lady (box of condoms in hand) and said "I believe you were looking for these". I could hear the lady screaming at the manager from my spot in the dairy aisle followed a lot of apologies from the manager and laughs from the crew.

A couple of moments later the intercom screamed out "STEVE-OFFICE-NOW!!!". Steve was a goner.

Thanks for the backup, but I'd rather have my 380... except its illegal as hell to carry a piece as a truckdriver.

I'm torn, none of the other guys I work with with will just come out and say what they do or how they do it... I'm a newbie so I kinda don't blame them, but still.

But go ahead and take a swing at Virus for me if you want... "you tryin to tell me people rob folks at gunpoint just for some wallet cash LMAO?"

Nooo, they just want our ****ing CORN.

LMAO

Alright, it's obvious you've been hitting the bottle tonight so let's just tone it down a notch.

You initially said you'd heard of hijackings in the area. To me, that implies that the perps will commandeer your vehicle for whatever reason, which led me to wonder what a couple black mother****ers from the hood would want with a truck full of corn.

Then you said they didn't want your corn but they wanted what was in your wallet AFTER you've unloaded it, which led me to believe whoever you were dropping the load off to might give you some form of payment that would make you a more attractive target for burglary.

The whole thing just made me wonder so I was asking legitimate questions..

Based on what you told us, it doesn't seem like you were in danger of being robbed. If so, why would they park their car off 100 feet from you? Don't you think they'd realize how suspicious a couple dudes sprinting up on your rear would come across? You also said you were already waiting at the tracks along with another car yet they didn't make a move on you- why? You and the guy in the other car were sitting ducks.

Its hard to describe how that went down... there were two different sets of tracks about 100 feet apart, the front set were blocked on either side by a raised platform/hill.

You could only see how much train was coming by through that, maybe 25 foot throughway, except for looking to the left when you're right up on the tracks, then you could see maybe 50 foot of train about 100 feet down the way.

So the guy I was following and myself are at the forward set of tracks, waiting for a huuuge train going 10mph to go by. We'd been there 10-15 minutes when we notice a car pull up and stop behind the second set of tracks 100 feet behind us (all the better to not get caught up in some bs, keep the getaway car free).

I see the back doors on this car open up and two guys start to emerge, but they hadn't taken two steps forward before the train passed.

There was no way, from where they were, to see how much train was left, they figured we were stuck... and we only had about a 5 second preview even though we were much further forward.

Long story short, they couldn't see the end of the train until about 5 seconds after we could... yet as soon as that train passed in clear view of everyone, those two ran back to their car, it did a U turn and they were gone.

If they were just some joes waiting for a train like us, why didn't they follow us on out? The guy ahead of me has been a driver for 50+ years and he knew exactly what was about to go down, he'd have known it no matter what color the people getting out of the car were.

Its tough to explain just how strange and congested it is down in there, but you'll just have to take my word for it... you know the scene in King of New York where Snipes is chasing Fishburne through that hellhole underneath bridges and down in the meat of the city?

This truck route is just EXACTLY that for about 6-8 blocks, its a spooky mfer and I don't care WHAT color you are.