Shipping Back To Boston

This story takes place a couple of years ago, but I have wanted to write it for a long time, so here it is. 

I moved out of Boston a couple years back and lived out of state. I had nothing going on at the time and had a friend who had a cheap apartment and needed a roommate. I jumped at the chance of saving almost a thousand dollars a month on rent... which I quickly learned I would spend on partying instead. 

The kid that I moved in with was one of those kids that made $12 dollars an hour but partied like he made $50. So needless to say I ended up paying the majority of the tab most of the time. The only reason I put up with this in the first place was because he was a decent wingman. He lied about everything, mostly his occupation: he liked to say he was an MTV executive, a modeling agent or anything else that would get women to sleep with him. He actually bought a Ferrari key on eBay once and walked around with it on his key chain, displaying it on bars when ordering drinks (that I paid for) so girls would see it. It was the middle of the winter so "obviously" the car was in storage.

Needless to say my drinking problem got progressively worse. After four months of living down there I was partying with “dancers” (that's what strippers like to be called) about four to five nights a week until five in the morning. My drinking problem was so bad I was pregaming with Everclear and cranberry juice before I went out. I am not complaining about this at all, I had a great time, but even at twenty two years old I knew it couldn't last much longer. I was definitely lucky I made it out of there with a clean bill of health and without a criminal record. 
 

I am sure I have a bunch of getting-hammered-doing-stupid-shit-and-getting-laid stories from that year, but the story I think is the most entertaining is the day I left and moved back to Boston. At about nine in the morning I had two friends that were eager to get me back to Boston show up at my house with a U-Haul and two thirty packs. Now I didn't have much shit to move, mostly a bed, some clothes, and a T.V. It should have taken the three of us maybe an hour or two tops to load the U-Haul, but seeing my friends are as fucked up as I am, we started drinking at nine thirty or so. We didn't move a thing until we crushed three or four beers each and I already knew this day was gonna be epic. When we did finally start moving things it was carry one thing out, drink a beer, rinse and repeat. 
 

At about eleven thirty we finally departed for Boston. My roommate Smush who I currently live with  is driving the U-Haul and my other friend is driving this little shit box Toyota which I am pretty sure is a family member's car. I am driving my car in the back of the Congo line when about 15 minutes into the journey “LJ” who is driving the compact car starts ramming the back passenger side of the U-Haul at about 65 miles an hour. Now Smush being completely out of his mind only puts up with this for a brief period of time and starts ramming him back. This continued for the majority of 95. To this day I don't know how the U-Haul didn't flip or someone didn't get injured or arrested. 
 

We arrive at my new apartment in the city around one where we are met by my new roommate Jigga -- no relevance to the rapper; he is a skinny white guy who wears a suit to work everyday-- and another friend only to be known as Bear Claw because when we have gotten into fights previously he has been known to knock people out with a cross between a claw and a bitch smack. 

They are waiting to help move us in and drink violently to celebrate my return (we will find any excuse to do that). Pretty much the same process of moving out happened, except in the opposite way: bring one thing in, crush a beer, over and over and over again. Smush stops moving things in and starts entertaining people driving by and entertaining my neighbors buy chugging beers with my motorcycle helmet and the dogs spiked collar on. It's not long before he gets bored and soon he started talking to a homeless lady with a carriage over flowing with cans. The minute she stepped away from the carriage he was off running down the street, motorcycle helmet, dog collar, and carriage full of cans. Since has been smoking since he was twelve, he doesnt make it very far and when the can lady catches up he returns the carriage and heads back to the house. Another two beers and he now wants to check the effectiveness of the helmet by running into the side of the U-Haul head first, which serves to lay him out in the middle of the street blocking traffic. After picking him up off the street and sitting him down inside next to the cooler we finished moving.

To celebrate finishing the move we start pounding beers vigourously. With a couple of my friends it didn't take us long to finish both thirty packs (or what was left of them) and everything that Jigga had in the fridge. I dont remember what we got at the liquor store but I know it was probabably something like a couple of thirty packs and something to do shots with, which is enough to make me follow in Smush's footsteps and start doing stupid shit.

Now what you have to remember is I think I was 21 maybe 22 at the time and was a little immature. I would like to believe that I have done some growing up since then, but some may disagree. After Smush was done hanging his head out of the window yelling at my new neighbor, who happened to be a pretty blonde, to come drink with us -- which she shortly did -- he decided he wanted to show me the toaster that a previous renter had thrown out the window onto the garage roof next door. 

I must have thought that this was a great place to store all of our extra shit because I began to grab everything we had doubles of and rifle it out the window, including but not limited to a toaster oven, crock pot, silverware sets and probably a few other things. I was only stopped when I went to throw the microwave out the window and Jigga stopped me realizing we only had one.

After drinking for the rest of the day and early evening and everybody having by now taken a run at my new neighbor except for me, we decided to go to a bar. The drunker my friends get, the more they hit on my new neighbor and every female in the general visinity. I do what normally works best and pay absolutely no attention to her. See, girls are just like guys, we all want what we can't have so if you harness that and make yourself unavailable or uninterseted you can slay any trash bag you want. 
 

After about an hour of doing shots and drinking RBVs (red bull vodkas) I decided I wanted to get laid. Around midnight I walked over to my new neighbor, who had been staring at me like a fat chick does to a cheeseburger. I tell her that we are gonna do a shot and then get out of there. Now mind you I haven't said five words to her all night, so you would expect a different response, but she just smiled and asked what kind of shot.

Ten minutes later we are in a cab and on our way to pound town. We didnt even make it to my new apartment, crashing through the door on the first floor into her apartment because her bed was closer. She couldn't have gotten her clothes off faster if they were covered in red ants. Now being as drunk as I was, usually normal vaginal sex doesn't do it for me. I informed her that she was gonna have to blow me and she agreed as long as I gave her a courtesy tap. Now being as drunk as I was I'm not sure if I forgot or just didn't care because I am an asshole, about three minutes into her act of felatio I unleashed enough children down her throat to start day cares all over New England. 
 

She was not amused at all but for some reason still wanted me to stay the night. I told her I would, I just had to grab something in my apartment and would be right back. I hit the door with the only intention of returning to the bar. I was stopped when I was met on the door step by Jigga and Bear Claw who informed me that Smush was arrested when he decided he wanted to run hood-roof-trunk over a few on-coming cabs, and landed on the hood of a cruiser.

The three of us head upstairs to finish the rest of the beers in the cooler and fill each other in on what we had missed and pass out.

We all wake up around 10 o'clock fully expecting to go have to bail Smush out when we learn that he didn't even make it to the station. He started name dropping and they took him about 20 blocks out of the way and dropped his ass off, making him walk back with no cabs in sight -- but at least he didn't get locked up. 

We head out to get breakfast when we meet a young guy at the front door, who I thought was another one of my new neighbors. I introduce myself and he soon tells me that he doesn't live in the building -- he had come over to see his fiance, who lived on the first floor. 

Memorial Day weekend on the farm

For the good part of the summer I party at a beach club that for the most part contains strippers, juice monkeys and cougars, and the rest of the females that don't fall into those categories have loose morals and could be put into a number of other categories.

This is a perfect area for me to operate in because most juice monkeys can't think for themselves so have zero game. Some are just entirely too big and normal broads don't find that attractive. So for me to get laid in a place like this is like fishing with hand grenades, and by that I mean not just easy but culminates in an explosion that makes me happy and other people wet.

Recently at my summertime hangout an old aquaintance introduces me to vodka waters with a couple lemons. They are so delicious I proceed to drink about twelve of them over the course of the next four hours. My vision should have been impaired at this time but I was still able to spot the biggest tits I have ever seen in my life on a girl that had to have been under a hundred pounds. She walks up to the entrance from the beach to the club and sits at a table with a bunch of girls who had already been staring at me like a fat girl stares at a cheese burger.

I grab my friend Dewy who is a great wing man. He is a good looking kid and once he gets drunk, which at this point he was, he has absolutely no standards. After I introduce myself -- probably with some fake name to avoid any future paternity suits -- myself and Dewy have a seat at their table. Dewy purchases the girls a few pitchers of some fruity drinks that I have no recollection of drinking but apparently I was pounding.

After partying with these girls for a little while I believe that I got up to go to the bathroom and some how got trapped in the middle of a bachelor party doing shots of Patron. This is where my memory gets a little blurry... I remember a bunch of women in their 30's drinking from penis straws all wearing purple shirts and pouring tequila down my throat and touching me in inapropriate places, and who am I to tell them not to? The next thing I remember was a cougar probably in her early 40's sitting on my lap.

She was very attractive for her age and had nice fake tits. I remember her telling me that she had a kid my age and I remember the lap dance she gave me. I would like this story to end in the way my stories normally would end in me taking home this old broad and doing strange, unheard of things to her that her old ass has not experienced yet, but no, I somehow left without her.

I ended up at a bar that everyone goes to late night, getting way too drunk for my own good and leaving with what was later to be described to me as two farm animals. Somehow I got separated from all of my friends, who probably left me because I was parading around with ugly chicks.

I walk the wrong way trying to get back to my friend's house and have to call someone to come pick me up. My friend comes to get me in his pick up truck, still very intoxicated. Refusing to leave the farm animals I ended up riding in the bed of his truck in the rain. After arriving back at my friend's house he goes to sleep and Dewy is passed out on the couch.

Drinking a couple beers in the kitchen I am starting to sober up and realize I am running a fucking petting zoo. I do what every good friend does: I wake Dewy's ass up and tell him he better get in the kitchen and be a good fucking wing man. I lead him into the petting zoo, sit him down, crack a beer for him, then return to where he was sleeping and pass out.

I am happy to conclude this story in telling that I have not slept with any farm animals.

Super Soakers for Adults

Let me start this post by saying I have obviously slept with a lot of different women over the last ten years or so. Just recently I think there has been a trend catching on among females in the bedroom, which at first I thought was awesome, but like all good things there needs to be an end soon. The trend that I am talking about that caught on faster than you can take home the girl at the bar with grass stains on her knees and puke on her shirt is SQUIRTING!

Yes, at first I thought this was awesome, but after the first couple of times you have to think about how expensive sheets and blankets are, and other objects this female projectile may hit.

Seriously though who do you girls think you are? Spider man? You're gonna get all excited and shoot your female web on my TV or something.

I get that some girls do it involuntarily, but usually the ones that can't help the situation don't scream at you to rub their clits and then let loose on you like a fire hose.

One of my first experiences with this: I was sleeping with this chick who is a little younger than me -- I think she had just turned 21 -- and she was a little immature. She was fun in bed and came around at fairly convenient times. She also gave amazing blow jobs -- I mean, she goes to work on me like a wet vac in a basement of a house in Louisiana during hurricane Katrina.

So on some Wednesday night at like 2 AM she calls and asks what I am doing. Being pretty intoxicated at this point it's an easy decision: I was meeting her at my house. After we were going at it for a little while I said something akin to “I like how fucking wet you get." Her I-am-21-years-old-and-I-can-just-come-out-and-say-something response was, "You know, I can get really wet if I try.”

Being twenty or so drinks in, I am very interested in what this implies. I think my ultimate goal that night was to make her ejaculate, hit my wall or mirror or something, take a picture or go get my roommate and show him for proof. So we carry on and after about another 15 minutes or so the screaming and convulsing starts and she lets loose on me.

I'm not talking about a little water pistol, I am talking about the super soaker 1000 -- if you were born in the 80's you know what I mean. If not, I will give you a more up-to-date image: She did to my bed what BP did to the Gulf. No joke, I was laying in a puddle and my stomach and thighs look like I just jumped in a pool. Because she was on top of me, I didn't get her to hit the walls or the mirror but I had a two foot by two foot wet circle on my sheets. That in itself was enough for me and my roommate to get a a good laugh out of for a week.

In closing, when a guy is drunk this whole squirting thing can be entertaining, but I think you ladies need to keep your juices to yourself. I understand that us as men shoot every time we get off but we only aim for stomachs, breast or faces. Yes you may catch something in the eye and it may burn for a few seconds, but we are not putting any electronics or other possible expensive surfaces around the bed in any immediate danger.

The Fat Chick Who Wouldn't Quit

I call my roommate “Smush.” It was originally “Mush,” but he moved in with me and gets more ass now so I changed it to Smush.


Smush is a repo driver and works six nights a week, so on the seventh night he usually gets obscenely drunk. Saturday night we head to the Bruin’s game around 6 PM, grab something to eat and start drinking. The game was uneventful and we lost, which usually enrages me because I am a huge Bruins fan, so this forces me to want to drink heavily and insult people in order to relieve my pain.


Immediately following the game we head to The Harp. Now I do not like The Harp at all, but the parking lot that I usually park in for Bruins games takes an hour to get out of if you try to leave right after the game, so we go in anyway.


Before I tell you about the first conversation of the night, I need to paint a little picture. It’s ten minutes after the Bruin’s game gets outs and I am wearing a Bruin’s jersey. I am approached but an overweight female.


Fat chick: Nice jersey. So did you go to the game?


Me: (Sarcastic) No, it's just a good way to pick up women.


Chick: (Trying to be flirty) Yea…it’s working.


Me: (Smirking) ..Looks like so would a ham and cheese!


Her: (Glares) What the fuck did you say?


Me: You might as well stop talking and buy me a drink to improve your odds.


Her: (Pauses) What are you drinking?


Me: Slimfast.


Her: Funny, asshole... Do you want a drink or not?


This chick seriously doesn't get it. She probably thinks me being an outrageous prick is me flirting with her.


Me: Grey goose Red Bull.


(She gets me a drink.)


Her: (Trying to be flirty.) So I bought you a drink, are you gonna be nice now?


Me: Depends. Are you gonna suck me off in the alley?


Her: (Still somehow thinking I'm flirting with her.) Well...not in the alley.


Now at this point, two guys Smush and I met up with after the game and the two kids I was out with are all in tears, except for the one guy who we just met who looks horrified.

Me: I just have to say, I’ve had a lot of chubbies hit on me before, but you by far take the most abuse.


Her: (My commentary finally starts to get to her) I have a diabetic issue, ass.


Me: Looks like you have a Twinkie issue! (My friends and I laugh; she's half-heartedly laughing too, not realizing we are laughing at her, not with her.) I guess if I can get over the whole you-being-fat thing, I kinda wanna fuck you to see how much punishment you can take in bed.


Her: Yeah? Well... we should def leave soon then.


Me: Are you kidding me? It’s 11, I don’t know if I can pound enough booze by closing time to go home with you!


Her: …so this is going nowhere.


Me: …faster than you have ever moved in your life!


Her: (Refusing to accept defeat) ...well do you want my number in case you change your mind?


Me: You have to be fist fucking me right now; am I on Punked? You have problems.

And she (finally) walked away......


Even I am amazed at how I never get slapped or had a drink thrown in my face by this girl. I’m not saying it hasn’t ever happened, but not nearly as much as it probably should, especially with cases like this.

At that point I’m tired of The Harp because of the lack of talent, so we leave and head to The Place.


Arriving at The Place, I realize the second problem of the night. It’s a weekend. I only drink at The Place on weekdays because weekends are fucking amateur hour, every hour, all night long. I’m not joking. I’m sure you cannot find me a legitimate adult in there.


Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don’t like to take advantage of young girls’ minds. It's usually very fun to insult them without them knowing what’s going on; it’s just that I am an adult and I do not want to leave the club to smoke a blunt with them, and I don’t want my Sunday morning pillow talk to be about Jersey Shore.


We decide to go in anyway because my friends love 19-year-old girls and I like to torture myself. Now the evening before I made the mistake of showing Smush the two YouTube videos of Teach Me How To Dougie and Moving Like Bernie, so after about 15 drinks that were consumed quite rapidly he was moving like “Dougie” and trying to get girls too teach him to “Bernie.”


Usually Smush being this drunk doesn’t help either one of us get laid, but I did manage to hang out with this one chick for a little while because she came over and found Smush hysterically funny (which he is). At this point I knew leaving with her was probably going to be impossible seeing I am going to have to pretty much carry him to the vehicle, so we leave.


Smush Decides He Needs to Piss


Dropping his pants to his knees like a child and taking a piss in the middle of State Street was hysterical, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so! Two very attractive blondes standing across the street saw what was going on and started laughing… so of course I’m going to try to use this to my advantage.


“What’s your name? He'll write it on the wall!” I yell out. They loved it, so Smush zips up, and we head across the street to talk to them.


I got one of their numbers and am actually sexting with her right now while writing this – yes, I know I am talented. I did not degrade this girl at the time and there was no funny dialect that I can recall, so I’ll stop my story there.


The events of the rest of the evening were something like: Smush yelling random shit at fat people outside McDonald’s, then he stopped a cab in the middle of the street to kick the bumper repeatedly, and then form tackled a couple of news paper dispensers.


The End.

Genghis Kahn of Vaginaland

Thurday night The King calls me and asks if I want to go to the Celtics game. I am an obvous pick seeing as I take him to a lot of Bruins games and I am the best person to drink with anyway. He got free tickets from his friend I call Lil Flip. I call his friend Lil Flip because he is short and is on the Celtics Green Team, always doing back flips and shit on the court during intermission.

On the way to the game we stop by a friend's house and start crushing beers. This usually leads to disaster for me because I don't normally drink beer -- I am vodka drinker. I know my abilities to drink vodka; I know no limit when I am drinking beers. After about eight beers in a half hour we decide it's time to go to the game.

8:00 PM: We arrive at Boston Garden and crush our first round. I immediately switch to vodka and am drinking Kettle One lemonades. Kind of gay, but they are pretty good and have a good amount of booze in them. We get two each for like ten bucks a wack and head to our seats.

8:13 PM: I am not entertained because I'm not a huge basketball fan. I like my sports to have a little more face punching. So, I decide to pour the booze into my mouth as fast as I can. I head back to the stand to buy another round.

8:30 PM: Repeat of 8:13.

9:00 PM: Repeat of 8:30.

9:15 PM: The first intermission comes on and I am more entertained when the Celtics cheerleaders come on.

"I am going to fuck one of those girls tonight."

"No you're not," the King says.

"Yes I am."

"Bro, I give you a lot of credit because you can usually pick up any girl that you try to, but you're not fucking a Celtics cheerleader tonight."

I raise my voice now because I'm appalled at the lack of confidence in his voice. "Your nickname might be 'the King,' but I am the Ruler of All Vagina. I am like the Genghis Khan of Vaginaland."

He just laughs and calls me an idiot.

Not fazed, I continue to guzzle booze to keep myself entertained. After the game we go over to The Greatest Bar, which I like to call The Gayest Bar because it's usually all dudes in there. The only reason we went was because his buddy Lil Flip was there and we said we'd meet up for a couple drinks and to thank him for the tickets.

After we walk in we find Lil Flip standing with a decently attractive female in sweat pants and a baggy shirt carrying a gym bag. It was the, "Hi, I-am-a-stripper-who-just-got-out-of-work" look.

Then it hits me: Lil Flip is on the Green team, so she must be a Celtics cheerleader. I casually turned to the King and give him the I-told-you-so. The King almost sprays his drink at everybody around laughing his ass off.

So I begin to work my magic. I would like to explain how I do this, but every situation is different, and truthfully I don't think you can learn this; it's God given. So after about 20 minutes I can only describe her look in one way, and I believe my boy Tweeter said it the best in Varsity Blues when he said “she looks like she fell out of the I-wanna-suck-your-dick tree and hit every branch on the way down.”

Now being as drunk as I was, and her being already ready to go, I tell The King we need to get out of this place so I can get to pound town as soon as possible. I grab her, tell her she's coming home with me, and we head out. Now being as easy as it was to pick her up, I expected her vagina to be as open as the Grand Canyon but I was pleasantly surprised: Not only did she have the uniform still on under the sweats, she had a phenominal ass and her vagina was tighter than a Jewish guy's wallet after Hanukkah.

We went at it for a couple hours. After she tapped out (which usually happens after I have been drinking Red Bull and Vodka for a good portion of the night), while I was attempting to go to sleep this one informs me that she is not tired. So after learning that she is several years younger than I am, I turn on the cartoon network and tell her to go to sleep and leave me the fuck alone.

So since the start of this list a couple weeks ago I have crossed out a few:

• 2 in 12 hours done
• 3 in 24 hours done
• Celtics Cheerleader done x 2

I actually went as high as 5 in 60 hours, which I consider to be a new record for myself -- and only one out of the 5 was a repeat offender. So you can call me GENGHIS-FUCKIN-KAHN from now on.

FUCK CANADA

New Year's, 2005: Two friends and I embark on a seven hour road trip to a little place called Montreal. Writing this story five years after the fact I will probably miss some shit, but to the best of my knowledge this is how it goes.

I believe DK started out driving my S.U.V. with Alfred riding shot gun and myself sleeping on luggage in the back seat with a hangover, because when I go on vacation it usually starts the night before and ends a day or two afterward. DK is a friend I have known for the best part of my life and is probably one of the funniest kids I know. He is also probably the only person who I know that is better than me at verbally tearing somebody to shreds. Our other friend I call Alfred because he reminds me of the mad magazine character. Great kid, also a pretty funny, but couldn’t get laid in a whore house with a fist full of hundreds.

After the seven hour ride and easily getting through customs (which was strange because my shit box SUV looks like the epitome of a drug smuggling vehicle), we arrive at our hotel.

It looked great online but was a different story in real life. The dark alley were you had to park your car not only had blood all over the snow, but two shady-looking people were sitting in a 1986 Toyota Corolla nearby smoking an unknown substance which I still believe to be crack. Not only were they smoking crack, but they were offering to help us with our bags like they worked there or something. (Maybe they were more aware that my SUV looks like it smuggles drugs than the customs workers were...)

After declining to let them take our bags, we go to check in. Not only was the parking lot very creepy but after we entered the lobby we thought we were checking into a brothel. After checking in and going to our room we shotgun several beers before going to get lunch. Now knowing that Canadians put a bunch of dumb shit on their food, like mayo on fries, I find the most American place I can find: Joe's American Bar and Grill. I don’t recall anything else worth repeating happening over the rest of the afternoon besides probably making fun of some Canucks and drinking excessively, so we'll fast forward to the first night.

New Year's Eve Eve: Night 1

The first night we went out was the night before New Year's Eve. We went to a club called Dome. (Seeing that there was a big dome on the top, it was pretty easy to find. Smart Canadians.) We arrived probably around ten or so and meet Alfred's brother and a couple of his friends upstairs. They are older than us and equally as retarded. After talking to one of his friends I have known for a couple years he asks if I want a beer and we proceed to the bar.

That's not spilled beer on the bar...

While ordering five beers from the bartender, he pulls out his penis and starts urinating on the bar. I mean this kid is good, he does not miss a beat: ordering while pissing and not changing the expression on his face; not cracking a smile, nothing, and continues to pay with one hand while executing a shake and zip with the other.

The only thing that shocked me more was that not a person except for me noticed we he was doing, and the only reason I noticed is because he had given me a look and hinted to what he was about to do. By 10:30 I could see where this night was about to go. After slamming drinks for another hour or so I go see how Canadian girls are gonna like me.

After about a half hour of dancing with some girls and drinking at a decent pace, without having hit the bathroom yet I informed the hot trash bag that I needed to hit the bathroom and I would be right back. She tells me that she also has to go and was coming with me.

Unisex bathrooms: Thank You Canada

Now having been my first trip to Canada I had never seen a unisex bathroom and my first experience is about to be a great one. Walking in, I cant believe my eyes: girls and guys at the mirror shooting the shit having regular conversations. Now being a unisex bathrooms there were no urinals, just stalls.

After being forced into the first available one, pushed down onto the toilet and stripped of my pants, I knew it wasn’t this girls first time: she was a pro. After riding me like a champ and putting out a good scream in the bathroom I was sure we were going to get kicked out. I might have been upset, but I had a good buzz and a hot chick that was going to be a good time, so I was ready to be kicked out if it came to it.

It did not happen. Over then ten minutes the only thing that happened was an occasional laugh or cheer from the other side of the stall. Upon completion and the swallowing of enough of my future children to start a day care, she got up, opened the stall, and walked out. Did I just get used?

Great start to the weekend.

I truly believed that she would be waiting outside the bathroom for me wanting to get some drinks or something, but nothing -- she was out like a fat kid in dodge ball. So I proceed back to the guys to tell them what had gone on to make sure that they know I am the fucking man.

Night one, chick two

Them being drunk and only mildly amused with this for about five minutes I retreat back to the bar to do some shots and make up for the half hour of drinking I lost. While at the bar I meet another promiscuous Canadian trash bag, and can automatically tell that there is no self respect in her gene pool either. After one shot and a drink this one was already asking when we were leaving.

My friends know me all too well to know that I would not be satisfied with a bathroom fuck and that I would also have to take something home with me, so without hesitation I grab her and head for the door. After walking the few short blocks back to the hotel I get this chick naked faster then cup cakes go off the shelf at a Jenny Craig convention.

My friends must have left the club shortly after me because not even fifteen minutes after me and this chick were going at it like the Bruins and the Canadians in the early 70's bench clearing brawl, the door opens and DK storms in wielding a hot dog and hatred for all of Canada.

DK begins to verbally assault this female telling her that Wayne Gretzky sucks and George Bush is the man. Now normally when DK is sober or slightly inebriated he can verbally assault anyone, but he was three sheets to the wind like he didn't even know what he was talking about.

So after assaulting their hockey team french dissent and various other points in Canadian history, she obviously has gotten dressed and leaves me to finish myself off with knuckle children in the bathroom. I would love to say this is the first time DK has inevitably cock blocked me, but it wasn't.

After she leaves DK and Alfred pass out. I stayed up pretty much the whole vacation with sporadic naps because I like to drink my vodka with energy drinks.

At about seven in the morning after being bored with hotel cable I decide to wake up the two retards, make them do tequila shots with me and find a breakfast joint so I could put something in my stomach to combat the booze and energy drinks that have taken control of my body. After this I fall asleep at around ten and don’t wake up till late in the afternoon, which I am not upset about because the only thing on my agenda for this vacation is drinking and getting laid as much as possible, if that wasn't clear already.

New Year's Eve: Night two

New Year's Eve we wake up around five o'clock and obviously begin to funnel beers, take showers, and begin the night. Around ten we arrive at Dome again, already decently intoxicated. We head to the bar for some Red Bull vodkas and Irish car bombs, sealing our fate for the night once again.

After several hours I was dancing with what I believed to be a go-go dancer employed by the bar. I came to this conclusion because she could dance her ass off, was wearing booty shorts and a little kid's top, and was dancing on a raised pedestal before she came over to me. After an hour of drinking, dancing, and telling this girl whatever she wanted to hear, I find out she was not employed by the bar after all. She tells me the reason for her outfit is that New Year's is like Halloween; a reason for girls to dress like sluts and get away with it.

...What?

I think this is stupid, but do not tell her that seeing as I wanted what little clothing she did have on, on the floor of a hotel room in the very near future. It was almost time for the club to close and I knew that DK and Alfred would be stumbling into our hotel very soon, so I ask her if she lives around here and if we can go back to her place. She says she's Canadian but doesn’t live anywhere near Montreal, so she was staying in a hotel a couple miles away and we can catch a cab and be there in a couple minutes.

After getting into a cab she pounces on me like a lion on a gazelle with very little regard for the cab driver. This wasn’t the first time she had done this; she was sticking her tongue down my throat and giving the cab driver directions at the same time.

We take the cab and go right to pound town. We had sex in the elevator, a stairwell, and everywhere in her hotel room, including counter tops, window sills, couch, coffee table, and in a bed next to her sleeping friend that woke up and was not only not amused at our actions but was that friend, you know the one, the ugly fat one that right when your about to leave the club with her hot friend swoops in and takes all your hard work away with comments like, "You're not really going home with this guy are you?" or: "You will hate yourself in the morning."

Now I usually have a friend that is ready to jump on that grenade because most of my friends loose all of their morals when they're drunk, but I was solo. So with no one to run interference on FREE WILLY I am stuck with not dumping my children on some whore's face for the second night in a row.

This chick was into me and wants to finish what we started at a later time. Knowing that not many people would be out the next day because most people are weak and can not handle hangovers, I agree to meet up with her the following day. Leaving her hotel and not remembering the cab driver was driving like fucking Jeff Gordon, I figured it was only a couple minutes in the cab, it couldn’t be far back to the club and my hotel was only blocks from there, so I will walk.

The coldest walk of fame...ever

At this time the alcohol was starting to wear off, and wearing only a thermal shirt in Canada in January is a horrible fucking idea. After walking ten blocks in the wrong fucking direction I stop to ask the only people who are on the street in Montreal at four in the morning: prostitutes.

After they try to work me over for 5 minutes they finally settle with selling me a tourist map and directions for $15 bucks. Upon arrival back at the hotel I find DK and Alfred in a drunken coma. I put the shower on scolding to thaw my nuts out, and go to sleep.

The next day we wake up at noon, get food, and I contact the hot trash bag from the night before because I needed to take care of something in my pants that was Jonesing like the crack fiends behind our hotel. She says she was waiting for me to call and was going to go home that day, but if I wanted would either come stay with us for the night or get a hotel room in the same hotel as us so we could party.

The Rendezvous

After describing our already stuffed living conditions she decides to get a room that was right next to ours. She shows up with an attractive friend this time, having sent FREE WILLY back to Sea World, which I was pretty pleased with. After dinner and some drinks we left her friend to fend for herself with DK and Alfred. She seemed okay with this because the two of them together drinking could have a good time watching paint dry.

We go back to her room and she goes to work like Chinese people on laundry. I hit it like Tyson in the late eighties and she took everything I had to throw at her and pushed back.

DK later described the noises coming out of the room like the military taking over Baghdad. We went on for hours, only stopping to walk in to the other room half-naked, funnel beers and go back at it. This went on pretty much 'til an hour before checkout time, and the only reason I stopped was to take a shower because I didn't wanna drive home eight hours with rotten crotch.

When it was time to leave we exchanged numbers and she said she was going to come to Boston soon to visit. I agreed this would be a good time but never actually thought that it would happen.

I mean, I know I am great in bed, but I would not drive a half hour to get laid, never mind eight fucking hours.

Sure enough, a week later she called while on her way to Boston to ask what hotel she should stay at... but that’s another story for a later time.

So here's what I learned on the trip to Canada:

1. Unisex bathrooms are the best idea ever.
2. Canadian chicks are whores.
3. Canadians eat weird shit.
4. It's possible to order drinks and take a piss at the same time.
5. I still hate fat chicks.

The Boston Tucker Max

Since I have been unable to attain a single goal that I have set for myself over the past few years, I have decided to steal someone else's. Tucker Max is a Duke law student who is making a shit load of money writing very funny stories about his drunken adventures involving fat chicks, midgets and amputees -- and it all started with a blog.

Not only do I know I have the stories to entertain you with, but I was also blessed with stunning good looks and an inherited drinking problem.

For my first entry, I have borrowed Tucker's list (which you can find in his book) and put my own spin on it as something to try to accomplish in the next few years. If nothing else, my stories will entertain you enough to give you a good laugh, or make you hate me enough to give you something talk about with your snobby-probably-picked-on-in-high-school friends. Either way I could give a fuck less. So here is the list.

• Hot female midget
• Amputee
• Twins
• Virgin
• Within 30 minutes of meeting her
• Without knowing her name
• Mother and daughter
• Married woman
• Mile high club
• Professional model
• Famous woman
• Religious girl on parent's bed
• Girl with fake tits
• Hooters girl
• One of my teachers
• Hot cop
• Friend's mom
• Mom's friend
• Escort -- without paying
• Carnie
• Threesome
• 2 girls 12 hours
• 3 girls 24 hours
• M.I.L.F.
• G.I.L.F.
• Barstool Sports girl
• Bruins Ice girl
• Celtics dancer
• Stripper -- without paying
• Porn star
• Girl who doesn't speak English
• Goth-Emo chick
• Funny tattoo around vagina
• Tongue ring
• Clit ring
• Tits pierced
• Deaf girl
• Blind girl

If you have anything further to add to the list that isn’t completely fucking retarded, feel free to comment and make a suggestion.

And if you are a female and I happen to write a short story about you, too fucking bad. You should have known better. But I will not add any real names; I will change them out for funnier, more suitable ones (i.e. cum dumpster, brainless)

Finally, anything that I have previously done does not matter...I have already accomplished half of this list, but I will be starting new today.