A long time friend of mine joined the military and got married to some schlub on the outskirts of the South-Western edge of Columbus. We figured on getting pretty drunk and didn't want to do the three to four hour drive back up, so we got a hotel.

After the wedding I was hammered and my wife was a little toasty (she was driving). We got lost trying to get back to the hotel and my wife says "We need to stop and ask someone".

"Okay," I say.

Suddenly we take a turn to an ugly side of town; all projects and run down houses. Naturally I assume that my wife will wait until we get back onto a main road and find a gas station or something.

But no. My wife says "Oh look, there's some people on their porch over there," and pulls into a driveway which is roughly twenty feet from the porch.

I look in the direction she indicates and there are five or six black dudes standing on a big roofed porch, smoking weed and drinking. (Mind you, I'm in no way racist; the fact that they were black is only mentioned because I am a pale, pale white man)

"Go ask them for directions," my wife says.

"No, I don't think so..." I reply.

"But they're right there. Just get out and go ask them for directions."

"Honey, I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Well I don't know where we are."

"Okay, so let's go to a gas station and ask someone there."

"Just go ask one of them for directions," she says.

At this point I realise that she is too drunk to be reasoned with. So I look her in the eyes and say, "okay, I'll go ask them for directions. But if I die, remember that this was your idea."

So I get out and make my way over to the porch, letting the liquid courage I had consumed course through me.

Upon noting the approach of the white dude who is clearly not supposed to be in this area, the porch clears off save for one chick and one dude.

"Excuse me, hi;" I say, trying to sound friendly and probably coming out in that often mocked "white guy voice".

"I'm trying to get back to my hotel and I have no idea where I am... Can one of you maybe give me directions back to Interstate 40?" (I don't think it was I-40, but I can't remember what it was so we'll go with 40.)

"Yeah," says the chick, real friendly like. "Just go to the end of the street and hang a right. Then keep going until you hit a light. Make a right on that light and..."

"No, no, no-" says the guy. "You make a left at that light."

"No you don't" she says.

"Yeah you do," he responds. "You make a left and then you go for a mile or two..."

"It's not a left, it's a right," she interjects.

"I'm telling you it's a left turn," he says.

Suddenly the screen door kicks open hard and this dude steps out wearing dark sunglasses in the middle of the night, looking like a hardcore gangster motherf**ker.

"Yo!" he says loud as f**k, "Who the f**k is this mother f**ker?!"

Oh s**t.

"So I go down the street and make a left?" I say in a hurry. "Cool, I can take it from there, thanks."

I turned around and walked at a nice brisk pace back to the car. I get in and say one word, my tone thick with urgency. "Drive."

If this had been an action movie, my wife would have popped the car in reverse, spune the tires, popped it and drive and took off like a bat out of hell.

"But which way do I go?" My wife asks. Clearly this is no action movie.

"I don't care, just drive." I say, looking out the window to see the mean scary guy standing on the sidewalk and looking at our car. "Honey, go."

"But I don't know where we are..."

In a slow and halted speech, hoping to break through her stupidity, I say the following. "They. are. going. to. start. shooting. at. us. Please drive the f**king car right now. I don't care which way you go, just f**king go."

Finally she understands. She puts the car in reverse, pulls out of the drive, and drives down the street away from the house.

I imagine they laughed quite a bit over that one.

The House Warming

A friend of mine had gotten into the business of buying crappy old brownstones and fixing them up into 3 floors of yuppy condos. He would generally celebrate with a party in the newly refurbished building before anyone moved in and these were generally well attended. He is what you could call a pretty wild guy, at the very least unconventional. His circle of friends are wide ranging in their backgrounds as he is very outgoing. You could just as easily meet a judge or a motorcycle gang at one of his parties.

He closed on a new building and decided that this time he would have a party before he started working on the place. He invites us all to come and demolish the 3 floor brownstone in the south end of Boston. He would spray paint big Xs on walls that were load bearing or that had live electric wires. All the rest was fair game. Bring Your Own Sledgehammer! As you can imagine this was seen as a great idea by everyone that heard it and so this place was packed. Walls were being knocked through just about as fast as they were being graffitied. At one point they put a motorcycle helmet on a guy and used him as a battering ram to go through a wall. One image that is locked in my mind is that of a woman using a garden hoe tearing the hell out of a wall, while her handbag was flailing wildly as she still clutched its strap.

There was live music as well. A band we knew was more than happy to play and they finished their second set about 1:30 am. At this point let me explain for those that have never been. The South End is pretty densely populated. Apartment buildings and these brownstones are all right next to each other. This place was 4 blocks away from a police department. I have been to many parties that were pretty noisy before but this was people literally tearing the place apart. I was surprised it had gone on this long and was getting a little tired I found my brother and we decided that it was time to go. He was waiting by the door while I was saying my goodbyes to a few people. One of which was using a chain-saw to cut a hole through the wall that separated the front room and the entrance way of the front door. He stops for a moment to say goodbye and then he is right back at it. Sinking that chain-saw right to the hilt through the wall. It was at this point that someone noticed that the police had finally arrived and that there were 2 cruisers out front. The chain-saw is turned off and in walk the police asking "who owns this place?" They found him and told us all to leave. My friend invites us all to his home which is just down the street. But I have had my fill I am leaving. So I get to the door my brother is laughing so hard he has tears in his eyes.

As he had been waiting at the front door when the police arrived he had a different angle on what had just happened. He said that the cop showed up and was walking into the building and a chain-saw blade came through the wall at him. I guess the look on his face was a combination of WTF and eye roll as he backed out the door to wait for the chain-saw to stop. Which it did for the length of a handshake and goodbye and as he was making his second attempt to enter the house to break up the party the chain-saw again comes through the wall at him again.

No arrests.

Tito is an idiot

I will try to make this one short because I don't remember all of the details.

One night a friend and I were at a bar and after a few hours of drinking we decided to drive over to East St. Louis and go to a strip club.

We were a little drunk, and we see some naked chicks and drink some more. Come four in the morning we decide to go home. He drove back to St. Louis entering through South St. Louis county. It isn't the fastest way home but it will work.

After we cross the Mississippi and enter Missouri he thinks it would be fun to go to cliff cave park. I don't know why but I thought it sounded fun too.

He stops at a Walmart and we go in at 4:30 in the morning drunk and buy some flashlights.

He then drives to Cliff Cave Park and parks in the subdivision next to it. We get out and sneak past the gate and walk down towards the cave.

We get to the gate that blocks entrance to the cave and squeeze past it. We are drunk climbing back in this cave, all I remember from the cave that night is how cold the water was and the hundreds of bats flying overhead. After awhile in the cave we got bored and hiked back to the cave entrance.

We start walking down the trails that goes to the road that heads back up to the car. As I am walking down the trail I begin picking up speed and almost come to a run. I cannot slow down and I hit a patch of slick mud. I slip over the edge and fall about 10 feet onto my back onto a sharp jagged rock. My friend yells out "Holy s**t, are you ok?!". I yell back I am fine. I manage to climb myself out of the creek bed and continue on our way.

I think the only reason I didn't injure my spine is because I was so drunk and my body went limp. The same way drunks survive car accidents.

The other stupid thing about that night was there were flash flood warnings so I could have died twice.

Wasted caving isn't a good idea.

The Great Escape

A long long time ago, on a beautiful summer weekend, Peter and I decided it was a great day for a relaxing picnic in the park. I was living in Queens at the time, so we decided to go to Flushing Meadow Park, site of the 64-65 World's Fair, which is right next to Shea Stadium, only about 10 minutes away.

We make a big jug of seabreezes, pack some food, blanket and off we go.

I decided we should camp at the far east side of the park, which was least accessible to public transportation and near a little pitch and putt course. We parked our car under the highway (the Van Wyk Expressway) and enter the park.

We lay down the blanket, start drinking and eating and just relaxing. Cool, right?

No. Turns out this day a large festival is in the park and people are turning out in droves. It's getting really crowded and we can barely hear each other talk. Time to go.

We go to the car and discover that it is buried 2, 3 cars deep. No way we can get the car out. All of the idiots who parked after us didn't think about getting their cars out later. They just parked behind and blocked all the cars. Our car was in the middle of the "rectangle" of cars, blocked in by cars behind and on each side.

We weren't alone - there were 3 other couples walking around trying to figure out how to move the cars. We start planning.

First, the guys decide to try and lift one small car to get it out of the way, which was behind one of our cars. No good, wouldn't budge.

In the meantime, we're all walking around looking for any place where there is a single car parked. Finally find an old sedan in the corner without another car parked behind it. This car has to move for us to get out.

The guys try jimmying open the door, without success. Peter, always resourceful, looks around and finds a brick.

The women are instructed to get into our respective cars and start the engines. Peter smashes the driver's side window of the car, releases the emergency brake and the 4 guys push the car into the street, with the 4 women drivers right behind.

The guys high five all around, jump into the cars and we high tailed it out of there.

Last time I've been to that park.

I said earlier in the thread that I had more stories about the big white house in McDonald, but I never delivered.

Well, here's another one.

I had just had my first psychadelic mushrooms experience the day before and was about to have another one.

I ate the shrooms sat in living room on the back of a chair and waited for them to kick in. The moment they did I felt that I needed to be outside in the night air with the stars above me. So I walked out into the yard in my bare feet and walked around.

Directly beside this house is a bar, there was a little hill next to the driveway and then BAM you're in the bar parking lot.

Well one of the letters from their sign was in my yard. So I picked it up and decided to return it to its rightful owners. I walked up the little hill and into their gravel parking lot and entered the bar.

I walked up to the bar and the bartender lady asked if she could help me.

"I found the letter "R" in my yard and I believe it belongs to you," I said, holding the letter up in my hand.

"Oh, thanks," she said, taking the letter from my hand.

I was about to turn around and exit the bar but this middle aged skinny and drunk as f**k guy walked up to me and said "HEY!"

I gave him the "what's up?" nod and said "Hey" right back to him.

He didn't say anything but he pointed to my bare feet and shook his head as though he were disappointed in me. For some reason I felt that I needed to explain myself (it was probably the shrooms).

"Oh, yeah I know. I'm supposed to wear shoes in here. But I was walking around in my front yard and stepped on the Letter R, so I brought it over."

Strangely enough, he seemed to understand.

Without further incident, I exited the bar and returned to the relative comfort of my living room. I watched in amazement as the room expanded all around me, the walls stretching farther and farther away.

Then from outside there was a loud BANG!!, like a stick of dynamite was set off.

I ran outside to find out what the hell that was and everyone in the bar was outside looking around as well.

"What the hell was that?!" I asked.

The skinny as f**k drunk guy recognized me and decided to come walk over and talk to me. Sadly, he did not seem to notice that he and I were on different elevation levels and when he tried to cross from the parking lot to my driveway, the hill took him down. He took one step and then fell flat on his face in my driveway.

I rushed over to him as he rolled onto his back.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He said that he was fine, so I extended a hand out to him to help him get to his feet. He took my hand and I pulled, but he was all limp.

"Okay, let's try this again," I said.

"Okay," he said.

I pulled, he did not get up.

"Alright," I said to him. "This time, when I pull, put your legs down and try to stand up."

"Ah," he said with his eyes, understanding dawning on him. I pulled him to his feet and patted him on the back.

"There," I said; "that's more like it."

"Did you do that?" He asked.

"Do what?" I asked. At this point I had forgotten why I was outside in the first place.

"Blow something up?" he asked. Oh yeah, now I remember.

"What? No, I don't know what that was," I told him. "I ran outside when I heard the noise."

"Oh," he said.

"Do you know what that noise was?" I asked him.

"It sounded like an explosion," he told me.

That made sense, I guess. And with this new understanding of the events that had transpired, I felt content enough to return to my house and the comforts of my living room.

I never did find out what that noise was.

Lee works on the Space Station

Okay. I am going to start a looong time ago. One day when I was about 8, I went somewhere (can't remember where... a themepark, or beach) and got a pretty bad sunburn. At the time, we didn't have central air conditioning, so we all slept in our den, which had a big window unit. I usually would just sleep on the floor, but since I had such a bad sunburn, my mom set up a cot for me. That night, I tossed and turned, going from hot to cold and back again due to the sunburn. Being in this state caused me to have a particularly vivid dream. I was selected to work on a new space station that was being built. I was outfitted with an AWESOME space suit. built into the helmet were two tubes. One was for water when I was thirsty, the other I could suck on for liquified food when I was hungry. This I found quite impressive. More impressive was the fact that whenever I had to go to the bathroom, I just went. The suit would take care of everything. For the next few hours, I bounded around the outside of the space station, fixing this and that, drinking water, drinking food, p*ssing and sh*tting to my hearts content.

The next morning when I woke up, I told my sister about the awesome dream I had the night before, and how it seemed so REAL. As I finished telling the story, my sister wrinkled her nose and asked me if I smelled anything funny. I did. It was then that I realised that although I wasn't REALLY wearing an awesome space suit, I REALLY had spent the whole night happily sh*tting up a storm, and was covered from knee to elbow. I'm guessing that because of the sunburn, I never felt it.


The Pervert at Wal Mart

One day around the time Toy Story came out, I was out with my two year old son and my 12 year old nephew. We stopped at Wal Mart for a few things, and ended up at the toy department. My nephew and son were a few aisles ahead, and while I was catching up to them, I noticed the display of Toy Story toys. I picked up a Woody doll, marveling at how much it looked like the toy in the movie. Just then, from 3 aisles away, my nephew yells out excitedly "Uncle Lee! Are you getting a Woody?!" I felt every eye in the toy department suddenly descend on me, the guy who's nephew squeals with excitement whenever his uncle gets a hard on. I remember standing there for what seemed like forever, before hoisting the toy above my head and shouting "THIS kind of Woody" and hurrying out of the toy dept.

The Lap Dance

A long long time ago, in a place called Texas, I joined Peter on one of his business trips. We went early so he could spend the weekend playing golf and socializing with his buddies before the conference started. It was also my birthday weekend, so it was cool to travel then.

Anyway…after a day of golf (I played caddie) and dinner, the boys decided that we should alll go to a topless joint. Very, very high class joint.

I have no problem with that. I had been with Peter to topless bars before, and the girls always focused on me as an audience member. It turned them on, as well as turning on Peter. Nothing bad.

I was buff and could look the dancers in their eyes and get them crazy. It was a fun experience for both me and Peter. He loved it when the girls danced for me!

His buddies, though, didn’t know this. They thought I would be outraged to be in a topless club.

Heh. Watch them squirm…

We go in, they pick “close seats”, and are a little disappointed that I’m not up in arms over this. Drinks are ordered. Then, they decide that giving Peter a lap dance would be a great idea and a way to see me get really pissed off.

Wrong!!!

The boys pick a special little blonde cutie for Peter’s lap dance and pay her. She walks over and realizes that he’s with me! This disturbs her. She spent easily 20+ minutes talking to me to make sure I wouldn’t be upset or pissed about the lap dance. From minute one I kept telling her that I didn’t’ have a problem with the lap dance, hell, it was her job I kept repeating you’re making $$$ doing this and ain’t that great. I want to see you give Peter the best lap dance ever.

She had trouble accepting that. Kept asking me over and over if it was okay. She was so worried that my relationship with Peter would be compromised if she did a lap dance with him.

I kept telling her, go for it , girl! After 20 odd minutes, she finally did her thing, but looked at me the entire time.

Peter was more amused and not at all turned on by her, but kept looking at me.

His friends were very disappointed by my reactions.

We got back to the hotel and well…

Well...? Well...!?! How can you leave us hanging like that.

Could you draw us a picture? Better yet, did you TAKE pictures? ;)

Part II

Back at the hotel

Peter and I well…. We celebrate the night!!!.

We’re sleeping now…

Suddenly I hear screaming, crashing noises, and “I’m off course”…


Lights on. Peter’s on the floor thrashing about. He thinks he’s on an Olympic lunge sled. He’s knocked over the lamp, phone, and is on the floor screaming.

I wake him up. Waiting for hotel security….

Just a dream. Just a dream…

I photoshop him as an Olympic luger (I have to search for that file, sorry).

He actually told his buddies about this. They didn’t let up for years.

Ok, this page of stories seem to be geared towards strip clubs.

Tito and His Girl Go to the Strip Club

This was maybe about seven years ago....

My longtime girlfriend(of the time) used to work the weekends at this bar. One night after the bar was closed we decided to go with one of the other guys over to the East side and go to a strip club.

We get to the club and are having a good time. My girl and I are at a stage watching the girls and all of the sudden a guy leans over and whispers something in her ear. She feels uncomfortable and wants to change tables. We move to a different table.

About five minutes goes buy and this guy walks past her and runs his hand along her shoulders. I am kinda pissed off and went over to the security and told them about this guy.

A half hour went by and this guy had seemed to stop. Then all of a sudden this guy comes up to her and rubs her shoulders and says something to her and sits at the stage directly behind us. I didn't see this happen but she told me about it right away. I told her not to worry and I would take care of it.

I get up and remain calm and lean over to the guy and say "Hey, do you mind not touching my girlfriend. She doesn't like it and neither do I."

This guy then gets up, he is a big guy too, maybe 300lbs, and says to me some weird stuff. He says "you f**king chink, you come over here and steal our women.".

I smirk and say back to the guy "first off, I am white. I was born here in St. Louis, Second of all, stop f**king touching my girlfriend".

He then takes a swing at me. It wasn't a good punch, he hit me in the face but it wasn't square and it rolled right off of my cheek.

I then punch him in the face and then take my hand and grab him by his throat. I push him over the chair right behind him and he crashes to the floor. I jump on top of him and put all of my body weight into my knee and dig it into his bladder area.

He kept attempting to punch me but could not land one because I still have him by his throat. I am there and jab him a few more times in the face and all of the sudden the dj breaks in over the house PA "Security, we need all security to the pit. Now. Theres a fight."

I stop punching him but continue restraining him. The security comes over pulls me off of him and they escort all of us to the door. They question me what was going on and I told them the whole story.

They kicked the guy out right there and then the dj ran over and said that he saw the whole thing and I was just defending myself.

The security apologized to us and told me that I may stay. These strip clubs never let anyone stay who was fighting. I think because I warned them earlier and they never did anything they felt responsible.

The friend came over, we hadn't seen him for an hour was laughing because he was getting a private dance and heard everything over the PA.

Ahh, good times.

What did this guy say to her? Did you ever find out?

Just drunken come-ons and he wanted to sleep with her.

Gross. I am glad you mostly beat his ass. Too bad you didn't have more time with him to finish the job.

It quits when the tide goes out ... lol.

I also have fun sometimes 'Talking to Americans.' Yes, some people find it hard to work in the winter because the carburators on the skidoos freeze up, but the older people still use dogs and they don't have any problems.

I was ID'd once in Hawai'i, and the woman was like "Alberta? Where's that?"

Before I could answer, the other attendant said "Oh, the State of Alberta's over near Carolina."


That's also the day I discovered that the old Alberta driver's liscences only have one tiny red maple leaf in the corner on the back and didn't actually say 'Canada' anywhere. I guess the disigner was trying to stick it to Snottawa or something.

Mobase's War Stories from the Stage

Back when I first started playing in bands, you cut your teeth in the American Legions, the Moose and the VFW's- Learning 1) to play your instrument, and 2) you're not as cool as you thought you were. These guys WERE on Iwo Jima, so you ain't gonna impress them with your spandex.

Anyhoo, we're playing a local Moose club on a Sunday afternoon fund raiser, trying to drown out the Bingo being called over the in house PA system- (which sounded like they got it off a soviet aircraft carrier) and not annoy the geezers constantly yelling at us to turn it down.

In the midst of all this, dead in the middle of the dance floor is an elderly couple in their 80's , both drunk as skunks at 1 in the afternoon, dancing haphazardly around. We were playing, and all of the sudden the old guy drops over in the middle of the dance floor. Lucky for him, the fire hall and the EMT's were literally across the street, so two minutes later they arrive to the sight of a elderly woman yelling at her husband to "get up, you drunk sonuvab***h and dance with me.." punctuated by the occasional kick.

The EMT's defib the guy, and he sits up, escapes the grasp of the medics and starts dancing like nothing happened, before being tackled and put back on a stretcher.

We had to keep playing through all this, providing a soundtrack to this whole scene. Tarrantino could'nt have written it better.

Accidently Scaring the Other Woman in Camp

So there I was, in Nunavut, traversing across the tundra. It was sort of a solo trav, I think the other two summer students I was with were only a kilometre or two away from me.

So anyways, I was moving at a pretty good speed, collecting lots of rocks, smashing some outcrops, and I came to the end of my traverse a bit earlier than planned. It wasn't a big deal; the helicopter was supposed to pick us up at 5, and it was 4 so I figured I'd just chill and maybe nap for that last hour. I was at the tip of a peninsula on a lake, so it wasn't as though I could have gone farther if I wanted to.

I had a lighter in my pocket, and being the redneck prairie girl I am I decided to light things on fire. I gathered up some dry, dead willow branches (the willow "trees" there are maybe 5cm tall) and a bunch of heather, and before I knew it I had a toasty little fire going. The heather burned FAST, so I had had to keep getting more and more, but it kept me occupied for the better part of that hour. When I could hear the helicopter coming, I kicked the few ashes into the lake and radioed my location.

I climbed into the back, got all buckeled up and we started to take off.

The woman beside me, another summer student, suddenly exclaimed "Oh my goodness!! I smell smoke!!! Is the helicopter on fire?!? We should land. This isn't good. Where's the fire?!?"

She was just freaking out, and was going on and on and since I didn't have my headset on yet I couldn't tell her to relax and shut up. The pilot and the other student recognized the smell of brush fire and knew it was wildly different from the smell of an electrical fire, so they just laughed.

It was pretty funny.

Smokin' in the boys room

Peter and I were spending a weekend in upstate NY with 3 other couples at one of their grandmother’s country homes. Beautiful place, right on a lake, in the dead of winter.

We decide to visit the local watering hole for a few adult beverages and dinner. We’re seated at the bar and everyone there seems to have a gun – shotguns galore. Behind the bar, next to their seats, everywhere…Ok, I’m a cop’s daughter and my dad, uncle and brothers hunt so I’m used to guns, just not in public like this. Deer and moose heads are the primary wall decoration. A real good ole boys’ place.

We’re having a grand old time being the center of attention – nothing like the city folks coming into the country place, but before long we were making new friends and just enjoying ourselves.

We all know that eventually you have to relieve yourself of whatever adult beverages you’re drinking, and one by one the guys got up and went to the men’s room. First guy goes…gone 5 minutes or so…doesn’t return….2nd guy goes…another 5 minutes…neither one is back…..3rd….you’re getting this now, aren’t you…The last guy goes and we’re now about hour from the time the first guy goes to the toilet.

Remember the guns? I did. I was afraid there was trouble brewing, so I got up and walked into the men’s room. Yes I did.

Instead of urinals, stalls and sinks, there was a completely separate bar behind the door. And, seated at the bar, all of our guys. I made Peter buy me a drink there so I could say I was drinking in the men’s room. I waved in the rest of the girls and we had a few more drinks.

We did eventually have dinner in the main restaurant and returned to the house.

Part II – It’s freakin’ cold!!!

Remember I said we were upstate on a lake in the winter. Well, the only heat in the house was a fireplace. The fire had now burned out and we didn’t have anymore. But, hey, we passed some in a pile right down the road.

Off we go on a wood collecting mission. It was 3 of the guys and myself. It’s dark, we’re all drunk and noisy and walking. We finally get to the woodpile. Great – free fire wood.

We each grab a couple of logs and start back to the house.

Now…remember the guns?

All of a sudden gunfire breaks out – and a guy is aiming at us and yelling that we’re stealing his wood! We drop everything and go flying back to the house.

Luckily…he didn’t follow us.

It was the coldest night I ever endured.

Friday Night

I am going to use spoiler tags in this story to cover up any NSFW stuff.

I do not remember all of these details because large amounts of alcohol were involved. I was refreshed to much of this story last night.

Friday was my friend Andy's 29th birthday, his birthday was actually Thursday but we were celebrating on Friday.

We started the night off at the local American Legion Post. We go there a lot because it is a quiet bar where we get very cheap drinks and shoot some pool. We start here because it is close to our houses and they all love us there and many times get lots of free drinks.

People keep buying us drinks, by about 11 pm I myself had drank two pitchers of beer, two gin and tonics. 3 shots of Jagermeister (the way she pours they are large 3 oz shots so they are actually almost triple shots) and one shot of Wild Turkey 101. Andy was keeping the same pace as me and our friend Matt earlier decided he wasn't really planning on drinking that night so he would drive us around. The Post had been or idea just for a starting point. We still had planned to go to the casino and then the strip club.

We get to the casino and Matt and Andy precede over to the blackjack table and I disappear over near the bar. I light up a cigarette and security comes over to me to remind me that it is now illegal to smoke in Illinois casinos. When he told me to put out my cigarette he realized that I was wasted and then told me I had to leave the casino. My friends did not know that I was kicked out and they had apparently been walking all over trying to find me. They said to each other "he probably got kicked out", they went and found a security guard and asked "did you kick a guy with a beard out?" "Oh him, yeah" the guard replied.

They then went out to the car to get me and then go to the strip club. "Where the hell is Mike?" I was nowhere to be found. For some reason I was wandering around the parking lot. I think after I got kicked out, I thought I drove and was by myself and started wandering around looking for my car. A security van pulls up to me and Andy yells out of the window "hey idiot, get in" The guard took us to Andy's car and we were off to the strip club.

Drive to the first strip club they won't let Matt in because his id is broken. I really have to pee at this point so I ask the bouncer if I can just go in to use the restroom. He says ok. Ten minutes pass and Andy and Matt are wondering where I am. Andy peeks his head in and I'm sitting at a table. "Mike! Come on, we have to go."

I jump in the car and we wonder across the street to the other club. We all get in. In a matter of moments I was sitting at the bar in deep conversation with one of the strippers sitting at the bar. My friends are confused. How did Mike work that out so quick? I can't tell you, but she took a liking to me. It wasn't the usual strippers trying to con me out of money either.

Matt comes over to see what we are doing. "Mike? What are you doing" The girl looks at Matt and says "I'm feeding him cheese." She then proceeds to pull the plastic back from the cheese and feeds it by hand to me. Matt is confused, but laughs at me eating cheese.

Matt and Andy then tell me they saw her get up and I walked over to a chair in the back and she showed back up. The said her legs were over my head and she was dancing all over me, She leaves and I sit there for a while. They come by to see what is going on with me. They approach me and realize that I am asleep. Matt then makes a funny discovery and points it out to Andy. Matt had noticed that my fly was opened wide and my head was slightly showing. They start laughing and wake me up and tell me to put my junk away. This all came back to me last night. I am pretty sure the stripper was giving me a hand job.

I wake up and go back over to the bar and start hanging out with her. My friends told me that we were sitting there and she was holding my crotch the whole time and vise versa. I then fall a sleep at the bar again and they placed a towel with a picture of a naked chick on it and as strangers would pass they would grope the breasts on the towel which was on my head. I wake up after about 10 minutes cuss someone out and continue talking.

I finally get home at around 4:00 am. I wake up in the morning and realize my wallet is missing. I am freaking out that I lost it again. Well, I probably had no money left anyways all I will have to replace is my debit card. I then out of the corner of my eyes spot my wallet laying on the floor. Sweet! I didn't lose it. I open it and am confused. How do I still have so much money left? I was sure the stripper had gotten most of my money, but no.

I went back to sleep and slept till about 4:00 pm and was amazed that I woke with no hangover.

I looked back through the stories I've posted and I realized that many of my stories involve a strip club. I must go to the strip clubs too often because there are many other stories I could tell that involve strip clubs.

Edit: Stories like my friend Shaun had his two sisters that worked at the same strip club and did sister shows. I will write about those at a later time.

The Manhole
A Tale in which Sadie gets Stitches

I'll put a spoiler tag on the graphic stuff.

One night my junior year, my friend Dani and I met a few guys downtown in a bar. They seemed pretty cool and they invited us to a party. Being none the wiser and having no transportation of our own, we crawl into their car and head to the very north side of town.

This house was about two miles away from any real houses and another 1/2 mile down a twisted gravel road with trees lining either side. I never would have known there were houses back there if these guys hadn't taken us there. When we arrived to the house, we realized that these seemingly nice guys lived in a crack den. Seven people were living in this house that had five rooms. Not five bedrooms, just five rooms. Beer bottles everywhere. Soiled clothes. Condom wrappers. Used condoms. Dog sh*t (or human maybe). Dead bugs. Dirty guy sleeping on the couch. Goldeneye for N64 is on pause on the TV. It was so unbearably dirty.

The guys then offered us a beer, we grudgingly accepted, hoping if we played nice, we could convince them to take us back to town. We followed one guys into the kitchen, who instead of handing us two beer bottles, washes out two glasses, pours our beers in them, then tries to drop a pill in the beers without us seeing. Yeah right. Realizing I'm about to be date raped in a crack den, I throw the beer in the guy's face, grab Dani and run. They start after us, but I scream that I'm calling 911, so they go back inside.

We're a quarter mile down the dirt road before we call a friend to come pick us up. She's at a bar a town away, so she tells us to walk to a gas station that's about a mile away and wait there, rather than her trying to find us on some random dirt road. Because I'm a genius, I decide that cutting through the field would be way faster than hiking another 1/4 mile and then a mile down the road. This is a great idea, except it's real dark. We're walking for about 20 minutes, taking our time. We keep stumbling on rocks. We're swearing and laughing.

Then without warning, I fall straight down. I feel a pain in my leg and I land hard on my ass. All around me it's dark, up above I see the night sky. That's when I realize I'm in a hole that about 6 feet deep and 3 feet wide. Dani's head appears above me.

"Are you okay"
"Um...no."

Then Dani gets the giggles and she can't stop laughing.

"Dani, get me the f*ck out of here!"
She subdues her laughter long enough to pull me out, then when I'm panting on the ground, she starts to laugh again.

"What's so f*cking funny?"
"You just fell straight down, it was like a cartoon!"
"You're a b***h."
"I know, but it was still funny."

As she continued laughing, we kept walking. I knew I had cut my right leg, but I couldn't really do anything about it. We get to the gas station and go inside to buy a band-aid. Under the fluorescent lighting of the gas station, we realize a band-aid isn't really going to cut it. My leg is covered in dried blood and is still bleeding. The gash is about 1/2 deep and 3 inches long. Dirty as all hell. There's little bits of fat stuck out of the skin. I'm suddenly very faint and our friend with the car finally arrives. We decide I need a hospital. I get 9 stitches, a big 'ole tetanus shot, and a needle full of antibiotics. It was awesome.

The next day, Dani and I went to find what I fell into and possibly see what I cut my leg on. We find the spot and there's this little metal sign that says "Caution: Manhole." The cover to manhole had been stolen. We called the city to report it and apparently every time they put in a new one, someone steals it, and I'm not the first person to fall in it.

I still refuse to go night-hiking because of this very manhole.