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- a member for 19 years, 1 month and 19 days
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» Going Too Far
Circumcised? OK fine....but.....
My friend Jeb (name changed to protect *myself*) had to get circumcised in his early twenties for obscure but wholly genuine "medical reasons". I don't envy anyone going through a procedure like that, and that's putting it mildly, but I digress.
His doctor gave him all kinds of heavy duty painkillers afterwards, and he stopped by my house to let me try some. I wasn't home, I was at the dentist. So, Jeb proceeds to the local bar, drinks a substantial amount, eats several of whatever-the-hell-his-doctor-gave-him, and staggered into the Dentist waiting room just a few blocks away.
I was between procedures, sitting reading (or trying to read) a magazine with a huge bloody wad of cotton stuffed in my mouth,my head as dead as a slab of beef, when Jeb - as stoned as I've ever seen him - fell through the front door.
He saw me immediately, and with a grin which I can only describe as a grin of pure evil announced in a loud voice that he'd; "had the procedure, and I couldn't refuse him any more!" Then whips his dick out and ffs...SHOWS this still bloody stitched up member to anyone in the waiting room!! I watched in mute horrified fascination as he paraded up and down a couple of times, then announced he had to go because he was going to buy some Astro Glide; "ready for when you get home, I'll make you feel better!" then abruptly zipped up and left before the receptionist could call the cops...which it was fairly clear that once she got over her "deer in the headlights freeze", was exactly what she was going to do.
People just sat and looked at me with sheer loathing, I sat and stared back at them not having the slightest clue what the hell to say (or in my case...sign) until called back in for the remaining work on my gnashers to be finished.
Now, that was a bit too far.....
(Mon 13th Nov 2006, 12:46, More)
Circumcised? OK fine....but.....
My friend Jeb (name changed to protect *myself*) had to get circumcised in his early twenties for obscure but wholly genuine "medical reasons". I don't envy anyone going through a procedure like that, and that's putting it mildly, but I digress.
His doctor gave him all kinds of heavy duty painkillers afterwards, and he stopped by my house to let me try some. I wasn't home, I was at the dentist. So, Jeb proceeds to the local bar, drinks a substantial amount, eats several of whatever-the-hell-his-doctor-gave-him, and staggered into the Dentist waiting room just a few blocks away.
I was between procedures, sitting reading (or trying to read) a magazine with a huge bloody wad of cotton stuffed in my mouth,my head as dead as a slab of beef, when Jeb - as stoned as I've ever seen him - fell through the front door.
He saw me immediately, and with a grin which I can only describe as a grin of pure evil announced in a loud voice that he'd; "had the procedure, and I couldn't refuse him any more!" Then whips his dick out and ffs...SHOWS this still bloody stitched up member to anyone in the waiting room!! I watched in mute horrified fascination as he paraded up and down a couple of times, then announced he had to go because he was going to buy some Astro Glide; "ready for when you get home, I'll make you feel better!" then abruptly zipped up and left before the receptionist could call the cops...which it was fairly clear that once she got over her "deer in the headlights freeze", was exactly what she was going to do.
People just sat and looked at me with sheer loathing, I sat and stared back at them not having the slightest clue what the hell to say (or in my case...sign) until called back in for the remaining work on my gnashers to be finished.
Now, that was a bit too far.....
(Mon 13th Nov 2006, 12:46, More)
» When I met the parents
Not a good intro
I was invited to my g/f's parents for dinner. I was eager to meet them for sure, apparently they (at that time) felt the same too, so all the omens were good.
The day I was due to go I felt bad all day, running an occasional low grade fever, sweats, chills, the whole deal. Nonetheless I was determined to go, regardless of how I felt.
The evening went very well indeed. My g/f's mother could cook - and then some. We all ate hugely, complete with decent wine, good conversation...in short, perfect. To round things off, I felt way better, all vestiges of flu like symptoms suffered during the course of the day had vanished.
Dinner was eventually over and coffee was served. Without any warning whatsoever, a wave of nausea overtook me. My stomach instantaneously and violently discharged its contents...all over the dinner table. A goodly portion of semi digested dinner found it's way across the table and onto my g/f's mothers' lap, and even onto the bureau behind her. To make matters worse (if such were possible) a second wave drenched my girlfriend. The third wave was so violent I slid off the chair onto the floor beneath - coughing, retching, burping and getting rid of the final pieces of whatever still resided in my stomach.
Moaning and still coughing ominously, I tried to convey what I intended as an apology. All that happened was another retching session...I staggered out of the house still honking and coughing and into my car whereupon somehow I managed to navigate my way home and into the shower.
Her parents told her afterwards that they never wanted to see me in their house again. (I mean damn, I didn't exactly plan this!!).
A year later we got married, and recently celebrated our 7th anniversary, inviting her parents over for dinner. My father in law inquired darkly whether I intended to blow chunks over everyone this time - as he is wont to do on any family occasion.
(Sat 21st May 2005, 11:23, More)
Not a good intro
I was invited to my g/f's parents for dinner. I was eager to meet them for sure, apparently they (at that time) felt the same too, so all the omens were good.
The day I was due to go I felt bad all day, running an occasional low grade fever, sweats, chills, the whole deal. Nonetheless I was determined to go, regardless of how I felt.
The evening went very well indeed. My g/f's mother could cook - and then some. We all ate hugely, complete with decent wine, good conversation...in short, perfect. To round things off, I felt way better, all vestiges of flu like symptoms suffered during the course of the day had vanished.
Dinner was eventually over and coffee was served. Without any warning whatsoever, a wave of nausea overtook me. My stomach instantaneously and violently discharged its contents...all over the dinner table. A goodly portion of semi digested dinner found it's way across the table and onto my g/f's mothers' lap, and even onto the bureau behind her. To make matters worse (if such were possible) a second wave drenched my girlfriend. The third wave was so violent I slid off the chair onto the floor beneath - coughing, retching, burping and getting rid of the final pieces of whatever still resided in my stomach.
Moaning and still coughing ominously, I tried to convey what I intended as an apology. All that happened was another retching session...I staggered out of the house still honking and coughing and into my car whereupon somehow I managed to navigate my way home and into the shower.
Her parents told her afterwards that they never wanted to see me in their house again. (I mean damn, I didn't exactly plan this!!).
A year later we got married, and recently celebrated our 7th anniversary, inviting her parents over for dinner. My father in law inquired darkly whether I intended to blow chunks over everyone this time - as he is wont to do on any family occasion.
(Sat 21st May 2005, 11:23, More)
» I'm an expert
Distinct expertise
Pumping out portable toilets. Yes, porta-loo's or whatever you lot in the UK call 'em.
I had a job which lasted throughout my college years with an "environmental services" company in Buffalo, NY.
This involved driving around the greater Buffalo area construction sites and connecting a giant hose to various PortoSan's (or PortAsan's since this word can be spelled in both ways), activating the shit pump, bingo! empty tank. Then turn on a chemical spray and blast the interior of the PortoSan to remove harmful bacteria. Finally, open the toilet roll dispenser and install however many rolls are required to top it up. Roll the hoses up, close the PortoSan door (sometimes I would randomly lock one up with a crimp seal for a laugh), remove gloves, jump back in my truck and race off to the next site only to repeat the procedure.
The fun came at the end of the shift when I had to pump out the truck tank into a holding pool (the equivalent of a metropolitan area sewage works settling tank) and flush the tank & lines with acid.
Once in my freshman year I backed onto a site while completely drunk and hit a PortoSan with the truck. It was occupied, and lemme tell you folks, the occupant was simultaneously scared shitless (hahahaha) and wildly angry. Why was I drunk at 8:15 in the morning? OK, lemme ask you this....what other condition should you be in when emptying portable toilets?
Yeah no question about it, this isn't ego speaking, just cold hard shitty reality. I'm an expert of no small note when it comes to Portable Toilets. 4 years of 6 days a week emptying the fuckers. Good money though, it paid my tuition in full *and* left a considerable amount of cash for alcohol and chemicals.
(Sat 25th Jun 2005, 10:50, More)
Distinct expertise
Pumping out portable toilets. Yes, porta-loo's or whatever you lot in the UK call 'em.
I had a job which lasted throughout my college years with an "environmental services" company in Buffalo, NY.
This involved driving around the greater Buffalo area construction sites and connecting a giant hose to various PortoSan's (or PortAsan's since this word can be spelled in both ways), activating the shit pump, bingo! empty tank. Then turn on a chemical spray and blast the interior of the PortoSan to remove harmful bacteria. Finally, open the toilet roll dispenser and install however many rolls are required to top it up. Roll the hoses up, close the PortoSan door (sometimes I would randomly lock one up with a crimp seal for a laugh), remove gloves, jump back in my truck and race off to the next site only to repeat the procedure.
The fun came at the end of the shift when I had to pump out the truck tank into a holding pool (the equivalent of a metropolitan area sewage works settling tank) and flush the tank & lines with acid.
Once in my freshman year I backed onto a site while completely drunk and hit a PortoSan with the truck. It was occupied, and lemme tell you folks, the occupant was simultaneously scared shitless (hahahaha) and wildly angry. Why was I drunk at 8:15 in the morning? OK, lemme ask you this....what other condition should you be in when emptying portable toilets?
Yeah no question about it, this isn't ego speaking, just cold hard shitty reality. I'm an expert of no small note when it comes to Portable Toilets. 4 years of 6 days a week emptying the fuckers. Good money though, it paid my tuition in full *and* left a considerable amount of cash for alcohol and chemicals.
(Sat 25th Jun 2005, 10:50, More)