The one with the Overheard top ten

January 19, 2011

The job search thickens (That’s what she said!) so today will be a shorty.

(Hey shawty!)

(What?)

So you can head over and check out the latest stuff at B movie brigade. We be on twitter too! This post will be something I’d been meaning to do more of. There (as some may know) is a little thing called Overheard Ohio. It has some real funny stuff. Even if you don’t live in Ohio it’s still pretty funny. Check it out (and submit if you can!)! Anyplug here is (my) top ten submissions for the month of December:

10. “Santa has a sleigh but I’ll let u know what the truth is. MFer is jolly cus he get 2 creep up on some fine ass bitches.”-Guy rapping outside.

9. “I should be home having sex with my girl. Fucking snow and fucking bus.” -Young dude at the bus stop.

8. “Let’s not forget the time you stuck your junk in their pitcher of beer.”–Guy jogging to his friend.

7. “it’s like my stepmom has Christmas cheer coming out of her vagina” –young lady @Phoenixcoffeeco

6. “Sometimes not being able to control your bowels can be a good thing.” —woman walking on @Coventryvillage

5. “Damn ‘Papa was a rolling stone.’ that is some deep ish…just like it’s talking to me man.”–Young guy outside Wendy’s.

4. “Shit if I have to spend Christmas at her parents she better pretend I’ve got a blow pop in my pants.”-guy waiting for the rapid.

3. “I hope your grandad still gives it to your grandma because she’s pretty doable for her age.”-Guy in Walmart to his friend.

2. “We broke up because he got drunk and kept telling my mom ‘your daughter likes to get her fried rice porked’ at her party”-girl eating sushi.

1. “I broke up with a girl once so I wouldn’t have to figure out what to get her for X-Mas.”-Guy discussing x-mas presents.

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Sundays with Ginsberg

October 22, 2010

I know. I know another cheapy post with a poem. Those of you who hate poetry I’m sorry. I’m working on some new posts and hope to have one up this weeked–or at least something. Until then have a great Friday and again any thoughts (good or bad) welcomed.

Sundays with Ginsberg

 
Pockets and pockets filled with pills.

We dined on tables, made of trash cans turned upside down;

to see the truth in everything. Poems and cognac covered the ground.

We ate our weight in chicken wings and

left finger shaped BBQ stains on the couch

oozed with bodies as the sun rose and slept crept in the window

witches were drawn in ashes. I named mine Piqué.

It started a chorus of boos and murmurs. She was the bell of the ball

-ed up condoms became art. And when my wife called I almost always took it.



The one with Vodka and hate

October 18, 2010

The night progressed as every other night fueled by free vodka would. This is to say much quicker than normal. It started with me not going and then somehow ending up on a bar stool drinking Finlandia next to the two people I’m always drinking with.

On my left there was an open seat and the bar was occupied by my star wars bag which I instinctively held anytime someone, not refilling my empty glass came near. The bartenders were nice, attentive and generous with the vodka. I made two new friends that evening.

Finlandia Tangerine and Finlandia Mango.

Mr. Grapefruit wasn’t too bad either. We only met through other acquaintances though.

There were shots. Plenty of them actually. I know that the number of shots I had was plenty because the guy in the bathroom told me so. Me and the nice warmth slowly filling my head made our way to the bathroom. I pushed the door open with what felt an inappropriate amount of surrealism. It swung open too easily and with a force that bolstered my ego. The music the DJ refused to let die faded just a bit. My thoughts were once again free.

“I am superman” I thought! Shook my head strongly no, not superman he is a douche nozzle.

“Why would you choose Superman?” damn you thoughts and your warm blanket of vodka. First you choose my arch enemy and then you try to overthrow my mind and accuse me of the horrible crime you in fact committed.

“Did I ask that out loud?” Damn.

Oh man did I ask the Superman question out loud? No I couldn’t have, because surely if I had there would be someone in here to hear it. Of course there was nobody in there with me. It was just me, my rebellious thoughts, the Finlandia and the sticker of someone’s face inside the urinal.

The room was one step from the bathrooms with one weak light bulb swinging from a chain you see in horror movies. The walls sported the typical bar restroom graffiti. What would we do if there weren’t any drunken sentences scrawled on the walls? The thing that always gives me pause (and did yet again that night) is the words carved into the mirrors. This act would involve effort. Said “artist” would have to crawl up in some instances and at the very least leaning over an endlessly wet sink. Plus the work it has to take to cut into it.
I stood in there soaking the entire room up. Not that there was much. Said mirror with all sorts of meaningless things etched into it. A pink flyer leaned on the side wall like a drunk. I kicked open the stall door and I’m still not sure why.

Nothing of note.

Just a bit of toilet paper looped lovingly over the handle. Suddenly the stall was filled with sex. I could see the shoed foot pushing up against where the stall and its door connected. It pumped. The leg bent and lengthened. Her dress pulled up and tucked with a neatness not matching what was happening.
I was writing a poem starring into the stall at bar on Coventry. Was this actually happening? My notebook was out and I was scribbling away. I heard the music start to get loud and turned. The poem would have to wait. I stepped up to the sink and slid my notebook into my bag. It thumped in against my leg and a line screamed out.

“Hey buddy nice night huh?” That was the dumbest line I ever heard.

“Deep in thought?” the intruder continued. He was wearing skinny jeans and a “Killers” shirt. Over this he wore a button up shirt, unbuttoned and yet somehow still tucked in. I explained off that I was lost in a poem. He nodded and grunted an approving-esque sound.

“Hey we shared a shot together didn’t we?”As I dried my hands he made his way over. His eyes were brown and he wore beat up Adidas. I knew he’d be the guy banging the girl in my poem. He’d let her pay for the shots and then fuck her talentlessly in the one dirty bathroom stall of a men’s room. She’d have to finish herself in the parking lot after the two minute warrior was long gone. I hated him. I wanted him to shut up. I wanted out of here. I wanted my glass refilled, and the warmth in my head to burn brightly instead.
The free vodka hour was over though.

“Uhm yeah I think the whole bar got shots.” I said.

“Right. Who was the girl that did it?” He shifted. I really hoped he wasn’t getting any that night.

“The bartender?”

“She bought them?” It was a gargley voice. It was as if each letter poured out of his throat. Did he whisper wet nothings into her ear as he used her? Surely she’d vomit all over his checkered shirt?

“Well the bar bought them.” I hate you. “The girls on the other side of the bar asked for them and the bartender included us all.” I hope yours was poisoned!

“Oh.” He washed his hands with a violence that was almost pretty. Water splashed the floor, the mirror and him. “I only got one shot. What about you?”

“4.” I felt the warmth being taken over by the coldness in my chest. I would not write the poem if he was portrayed in a good light. Muse be damned.

“That’s plenty.” He wiped his fucking hands on his jeans. “Don’t you think?”

“I could always use more.”

I pulled my ninja turtle stocking cap down tight around my head. I’d trap the disdain inside there if I could.


The one with a condom

August 5, 2010

So this is one of those TMI Thursday post’s where I tell you that it’s about sex. This means that if you are family you probably don’t want to read this. This also means there will probably be 3 readers. I’d also like to state here that my lovely wife thought I should not post this but you know me I’m an open book.

Not a very good book but an open one, or at least one with a cover that is tattered and barely stays on.

Back to the topic at hand though—sex. Okay not really. I mean I know you want me to tell you all the details of us making the beast with two backs but this is really about the aftermath. There will be a drawing at the end representing the sex portion though. (No there won’t you damn deviants!)

Anysex we had just finished a nice spot (what the heck were we drinking tea?) of sex. It was on one of the hotter (yeah baby) night here in the Land of Cleves. I being the stallion I am had worked up quite the sweat and thirst. After an appropriate amount of time I headed off to the kitchen to get some water. Luckily I had put some in the fridge before heading to the bedroom and so I had a nice cold glass waiting for me. I downed that quickly and started back for bed, but was hit with a note for a play. I stopped to make sure I wrote it down.

Yes I was still naked. You people are perverted. I stopped for some more water and while in the kitchen noticed something. I still had the condom on. It was holding on for dear life like Sylvester Stallone trying to keep that chick from falling in Cliffhanger.

Wait that description would make my penis Sly.

I’m starting to understand why the wife didn’t think I should post this one. So yes I noticed said condom hanging on like it was Brett Favre. (HEYOO!) I decided that it is time to get rid of it and like Seinfeld suggested just pulled it right off! I of course am still standing in the kitchen so I suppose I intended to toss it in the trash in the corner. Off it comes with a very wet sound. A way too wet sound. A second later there was another wet sound. A very loud:

SPLURTTSPLATT

Yes that is a real sound. Don’t argue. That was the sound of what generally is inside used condoms falling to the kitchen floor. Oh and some on my foot too. Yeah I cleaned it all up and then headed to bed. As I got in I told the wife what happened complete with my imitation of the sound.

She asked “what is wrong with you?”

That is probably a good question.

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TMI Thursday: The one that really burned her ass

April 8, 2010

Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

It’s Thursday once again—a day I didn’t think I’d see the way the week was going. The way the show was going. I hadn’t planned on doing a TMI post this week. I actually didn’t think I was going to post anything this week (after the shameless plug) but seeing as this is the last official one I felt I had to.
I think it’s pretty clear I enjoyed doing these posts. They’ve allowed me to open up in a completely different and wonderful way.

Poop stories are opening up in a wonderful way?

Well at least in a completely comfortable and well eventually expected way. I’m sure I’ll bust out with the tmi’s every now and again still. I mean I did enjoy making people squirm. I was working on a post about just how much I’ve enjoyed/almost obsessed over coming up with the tmi posts. That will come. But first:
TMI Thursday: The one that really burned her ass.

Not the burn one would think of. It happened of course with the crazy chicken pox raping girl. Most of the weird stuff in my sexual history did. You’ve probably already guessed that. So dear family do look away if you don’t want to see the sex stuff again. I say family but mostly it’s just my sister Lisa. Anyhoo look away.

This is indeed about sex. Not just sex, but sex at work. Now I use to work with my parents in their cleaning business. We cleaned an office building. At some point the girlfriend came along, and would either help or sit off to the side and read. On this particular night she helped clean. She cleaned faster than I ever saw her clean and it meant we were done way before my parents. Now we could’ve gone down and helped the rents but she had something different in mind.

As I checked on things she came up behind me and rubbed my crotch. She then whispered she brought a condom and let go of me. I knew I was getting a quickie and turned around to find she was already finished undressing herself. She didn’t want any foreplay she just wanted the sex to begin. I obliged. I just dropped trou and boxers and prepared to bump uglies and what not. It just so happens that where she tossed her shirt was a perfect spot to protect my knees.

You see we were on a carpet.

Yeah and well we went at it rather hard for about 15-20 minutes and then hurriedly dressed. As we did you could see the big long red marks all up the back of her legs and ass. The nice track of rug burn all up her back and she actually claims in between her ass cheeks and on her crack. Soon it really began to hurt her and she walked a bit funny and winced every now and then when she sat down for a little while.


Is that a banana in your pocket or just TMI Thursday?

February 18, 2010

It’s that time again kiddies. You know what time. No I’m not going to make another Back to the Future joke or even one of those wait…what? pauses I do constantly. If you guessed it’s family disclaimer time than you are right.

You’ll get nothing and like it!

So family (though I’m pretty sure the only one who consistently read it is my sis Lisa) you’re gonna not wanna read on after the break. Sorry. It’s just after much thought on what to post and the wife telling me one idea was just gross and would cause loss of readers I settled on the banana story. So again you probably don’t want to read on. I did think of you. Readers read on but family click the links and enjoy.

Steve Nash is the most ridiculous man in the world.
Patent Pending’s parody of Jersey Shore.

Actually everyone should click the links sometime and enjoy the videos.

Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

This one takes us back to the pre wifey days. A dark scary time. Despite their victory over the Galactic Empire with the destruction of the Death Star, the Empire’s forces have driven the Rebel Alliance into hiding…

Yes Star Wars Reference! Okay so truth be told it wasn’t all that bad a time period. I mean it was high school and that went semi ok all in all, but at least I was getting some seemingly more than anyone else I knew. I mean this chick was insatiable. That’s right it goes way back to the crazy ex who sexed up a chicken pox filled sick virgin. As much as I enjoyed the sexy I cannot stress she was crazy. Okay but onward I go. I believe her parents were away and she told me to come over. There was some mention of watching some really horrible sounding chick flick—which almost had me cancel.

Of course when I got there she opened the door with one tit (purposely) sticking out of her tank top and he hideous jean shorts already unbuttoned. As soon as I was in the door she was kissing me and rubbing little jimi. After a little bit of playing right up against the door we made our way into her bedroom. As she stripped off the rest of her clothes in the door way she mentioned something about adding something to make it even more fun. She then exited and returned with a plastic bag. I kid you not when I write this but she wrote on the bag:

SEXI FOOD

I’m seriously. So she tells me that she bought some food to make it fun (SEXI) today. Now I’m a fatty loompa so you know food for me is always good, but was still skeptical. I thought maybe she’d pull out some whip cream or something. The first thing she pulled out was a banana. It looked like this then:
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So before I could ask just what exactly she wanted done with said banana she jumped in bed and was all gob on my knob. Then it proceeded to some petting and rubbing and she moaned “use the banana on me.” So a tad skeptical but always eager to please (because that’s how I roll) I reached for the banana. Now some time between the sucking and the petting she peeled it. Why would she peel it? Why? So I questioned and she said “just stick it in me.” I looked. “Fuck me with it!” and with the quickness of a sicko ninja she stuffed that half peeled banana in her coochie. Now it went in and smushed. She kept me pumping it in and on her astronaut drink. Bazinga!

Anyways she slammed her astronaut drink up at it and my hand kept pushing it in and on it (why?!) and finally she moaned and told me she was so close and begged me to eat her out. So I look down there and her crotch looked like there had been a war between the banana people and the astronaut people. Banana carnage was everywhere. I won’t get into too much more detail but she had quite a black bush and it was now tangled with the corpse of the poor banana. Banana afterwards:
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Yes those little black squiggles are pubes. It was a broken browning pube infiltrated mess. Soon she began rubbing her hand all around her astronaut drink and asking me to go down on here. I won’t get into any more detail and I’ll let you guess as to if I went down on her or not. I really hope someone got the astronaut drink thing! As a closing note I will tell you what else was in the bag. The SEXI FOOD consisted of Strawberries,another banana (Why?!), cherries, and an apple.

Wait an apple? What the hell??
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