Of Moonshining and Moonwalking....

I had a thing with an old friend once. I can't righteously call it a relationship, neither one of us really wanted one of those at the time. It was more like a fling. As in, we'd run into her bedroom, fling our clothes to the floor, and fuck like rabbits that had just been released from a long stretch in prison! It was a lot of fun, believe me, the urgent sex was a bonus. We'd known each other for years, but both of us were attached during those times. We would do some harmless flirting, but nothing beyond that, as neither one of us were into cheating. It was around my birthday one year, when I got an email from her asking me how I'd been. It was good to hear from her, because we hadn't talked in a while. I knew she was currently unattached, and I told her that I had recently gotten out of a relationship myself. She messaged me back this :"Can I have you?". I thought to myself "Well shit. I've always wanted to fuck her absolutely senseless, why not now?". I told her okay, and she took me to dinner. After dinner, we went back to her place, and fooled around a bit. And, by "fooled around", I mean we made out, felt each other up, checked out each others equipment, and such. It was like recon just before an attack. A little while after that, I found out that she had no gag reflex. Jackpot. Are you fuckin' serious? She put my entire schlong in her mouth! Lemme just say, I'm hung like a fuckin' horse. Fuck you, I am too. I can have numerous women back up that boast. She was really good at it, too. I hate those chicks who think a blowjob is just putting your cock in their mouth and bobbing on it for a while. Fuck, get into it! Enjoy it! I certainly am! I also hate it when chicks act like they don't know what they're doing so you make them stop in the middle of it. Really? That's such utter bullshit. This chick was neither of those. She blew me like she was a fuckin' pornstar! It was great! You know when I was a teen, some friends of mine had started to call their dicks microphones. From that point on, we were always looking for chicks who could "rock the mic". This chick was very proficient. I took to calling her Ms. Articulate. She had a nickname for me, too, but that's another story. Well, Ms.Articulate had family in the Deep South, and went to visit them. She came back with a Mason jar full of moonshine. She gave me a shot to taste, and it was pretty good. Now I'd heard stories about chicks taking shots of moonshine and giving the warmest blowjobs you could imagine. I mentioned it to her, and she was all for it. She took her shot, and started on the mic. Ohhh, yeaaahhh, that's niiiice! It was so fuckin' warm, it felt like my dick was wrapped in an electric blanket. But then it got warmer. Then it got hot. Then the shit started burning! And I mean burning like I'd just dropped my cock onto a barbecue grill. Hot like she had a fuckin' blow-torch in her mouth. I snatched my cock out of her mouth, did a backflip across the mattress to the other side of the bed, and ran into the bathroom to the sink, yelling the whole time. She told me it looked like I was moonwalking across her bedroom floor. As it turned out, she didn't swallow her shot. Due to a miscommunication, she thought I meant blow me with the moonshine in her mouth. To this fuckin' day, I swear she did it on purpose. She's way to intelligent to make that kind of mistake.....

Bike riding is fun! Isn't it?

I used to live in L.A. I went from living with my father in Spain to living with my mother in Los Angeles at 17 years old. Hollywood to be exact. You wanna talk about culture shock? We went to Venice Beach the first weekend I was there. Holy shit. That chick was almost naked! It was the first time I'd ever seen a chick wearing a teeny-tiny bikini in person. Normally, you only saw that kind of shit on late-night "Skin-emax" soft porn movies. Don't act like you didn't watch those as a teen, we all did. Chicks included. Ahhh, memories!
I found out pretty quick that I was gonna enjoy life in L.A. It was February of 1988, and had to be the best time to be there.
I started to get acquainted with the a lot of the things the city had to offer. I'd walk up and down Hollywood Boulevard, go check out tapings of TV shows, and tried to bang every chick I laid eyes on. I had a cousin out there, and we hung out a lot. It was cool because she had a shit-load of hot friends! She lived all the way out in Inglewood, though, and like I said, I was living in Hollywood. For those of you that don't know, that's 10 miles one way. I used to ride a bike out there a lot, and when I look back on it, it's hard to believe that I was riding 20 miles a day 2 and 3 days in a row. Riding a bike in L.A. is fuckin' dangerous! Once, I was riding across Freemont Place at Wilshire Boulevard, and some asshole hit me. Now, I didn't end up on my back with a mangled bike laying next to me, but the idiot didn't wanna wait for me to ride by, so he cut me off. Hit my front tire. And kept going. I decided not to take that way home. Too many side streets to take, anyway. I told my cousin, "ThePrincess" about it after I got to her house, and she told me that I should've gotten the guy's license plate. We hung out for a while, but she couldn't get any of her friends to come over, and it was getting late, so I started pedaling home. LaBrea is pretty much a straight shot, so that's what I took home. Now, at some point, just past Slauson, LaBrea starts going through the western border of Baldwin Hills, so I had to work a little bit to get up the hill. I was getting a little pissed at the traffic, and the RTD bus that seemed to be stopping every 10 feet in front of me. Finally, the bus had no more stops, and made it's way up the hill. A little while after that, I crested the hill, as well. Now, it was all downhill! Coasting down a long hill on a bike is one of life's great pleasures. I love speed. The wind in your hair, things rushing by, it's great. Then, I saw that fuckin' bus again. Damnit! No problem. I'll just cruise around it. I looked behind me, and saw that there were too many cars coming to make that possible. I hit the brakes. Right. I may as well not have had any fuckin' brakes at the speed I was going, and the bus was stopped in front of me. Then I noticed that the guardrail on the side of the road curved in for the bus stop. Sweet. I pulled into the bus stop area with a sense of relief. That's when I noticed that the guardrail curved back out at the end of the bust stop. Shit. And what was worse, the bus had started moving again. I had slowed down a bit, but still not enough to completely stop. I ended up pulling out in front of the moving bus. The bus driver slammed on his brakes, honked his horn, and flipped me off while he was cussing at me. What the fuck did he want me to do? I couldn't stop. 30 feet beyond the bus stop, the sidewalk started again, so I thought that I'd ride on it for a while to regain my composure after almost getting run over by a fuckin' RTD. I cut loose with some nervous laughter as I pedaled on. It was dark, and I wasn't paying attention to my drifting to the wall on one side of the sidewalk. What I didn't realize was the 5 inch deep rut in between the sidewalk and the wall. My front tire rolled into it. Since I didn't know how deep it was, I tried to turn out of it. Big mistake. Over the handlebars I went, with the bike following me. I ended up on my back with a bike on top of me. The whole thing happened in slow motion. I saw the ground, the hill behind me, and the sky as I executed an Olympic level front flip. If only I could stick the landing! As my back made contact with the ground, I slid a good 4-6 feet. Then I saw the bike, tumbling through the air. It was coming right for me. "Fuck." I thought, "This is gonna hurt.". As I lay there in pain, locked in an embarrassing embrace with a Huffy 12 speed, I heard the laughter. People were stopping their cars to laugh at me. What heartless assholes......

Hangin' at The Woody Pt 3 The "Little" Indian Girl

Okay, we all get beer goggles when we drink. I don't care who you are. If you say "No, that's bullshit. Not me", then you're a fuckin' liar. It happens. You ain't special, fucker! The problem was, every time I saw this chick (Chunk?), I was completely out of my mind drunk. She'd smile and grin at me and shit, wink, and wave. I'm like most guys in that aspect, if a chick shows the least bit of interest, I'm down to fuck her 7 ways from Sunday. This gets at least 8 times worse when I'm drunk. You know what I'm talking about. So I started flirting with her. Aggressively. Well, at least as aggressive as you can be when you're damn near blackout-drunk.

Turtle saw me flirting with her and tried to stop me. "Dude, what the fuck are you doing? That chick's ugly as fuck!"

"No she's not", I managed to slur out. "She's my little Indian girl. That's my little Pocahontas!"

Now, The Woody was also a karaoke bar. I started serenading her with songs like Wild Thing, and Baby Got Back. You would have thought that I was madly in love with her. My friend Einstein doesn't talk much, mainly because he speaks in binary code, but I think he was silently speechless, if there is such a thing. I even went so far as to buy her roses from the little flower lady that walks around the bar. Oh yeah, I'd completely lost my mind over this chick. I'd sit down with her, we'd hold hands, have little conversations. We were quite the pair. Some time passed, at least what I considered time, anyway. Hard to tell time when you're near pissing yourself drunk! I got around to telling her that I wanted to play hide the salami with her. She was definitely into it, but said that she had people at her house and needed some time to clear them out. That's when I found out that she lived around the corner from the bar. Well! that was fucking great! Just a short walk, and I'd be pleasurably pounding the night away! Since Turtle's chick worked at the bar, we got to hang out there after it closed. I sober up pretty fuckin' quick once I stop drinking, and I was having a deep conversation about Jello Shots with GothChick while she wiped the bar down when my phone rang. The house was empty, and I could come by when I wanted! Since I didn't know how to get to her house, I told her that I'd meet her outside the bar. Keep in mind that I'm largely sober now. I'm standing outside in the dark, watching tweekers sketch by (Yup. It's fuckin' Springfield, for Christ's sake. What'd you expect?), when finally, I see her walking towards the bar. Now, don't get me wrong, I like women of all shapes and sizes. I believe that all women are beautiful in some way. And I'm a fat fucker, so what do I look like judging some woman by her size? But if you're as wide as you are tall, sex isn't really an option with a guy like me. She was a short chick, and looked like a mini-fridge walking across the street. Like I said, I'm a fat fucker. I instantly got images of large kitchen appliances slamming into each other, and creating offspring like toasters, food-processors, or maybe twin blenders. I couldn't take it. I bolted. I went barreling through the parking lot in the other direction, and headed down the sidewalk. I made it to a 7-11, and called Turtle to pick me up on the way home. I told him what happened, and he almost pissed himself laughing. "I fuckin' told you, dude!" he stuttered out between guffaws. Fuck him. He's an asshole.....

Hangin' At The Woody PT 2. Snorting Shots!!

I gotta tell ya, this was not one of the best ideas we ever had. Turtle had heard somewhere about some 80's rock band snorting tequila shots. Now, before you say it, YES, it DOES sound crazy! I'd also heard a story about an 80's rock band that had injected vodka DIRECTLY INTO THEIR VEINS. Well there was no fuckin' way I was gonna try THAT shit, I'm scared to death of needles. Fuck you. I'm not a pussy. I had a bad experience.

So, we each get a shot. I wish I could tell you that I snorted that shit down like a champ, and then yelled like Tarzan. That would be a lie. You see, snorting shots works like this: The membranes in your nostrils are really thin. I could hit you with a bunch of medical shit, but fuck that. What it boils down to is that your body absorbs alcohol a lot faster if you snort it. I hear that it's even faster if you make yourself an alcohol enema, but I'm not trying THAT shit, either. I've already got snorting under my belt, that's more than enough. It's something you should only try if you're already near pissing yourself drunk. Turtle and I took our shot glasses, clinked them together, said "Cheers!", took straws, put one end in a nostril, the other in the shot glass, and took a deep snort. I wish I could explain to you the lingering pain that follows that snort. They should use this technique to torture terrorists. Imagine shoving lit matches up your nose. Got that picture? Good. Snorting shots is worse than that. Keep in mind, I was already babbling drunk. I STILL FELT THE PAIN. But here's the funny part: I couldn't stop! That shit really works! It's not a gradual thing, it's instantaneous. After two shots, I tried to do some kareoke. I was seeing triple. I stumbled to the stage, grabbed the mic, and tried to sit on the little stool. The next thing I know, I'm looking at the ceiling. I missed the stool. Like I said, not my most shining moment. And what's worse, I think I kinda enjoyed it.

Hangin' at The Woody (Occurred August-December 2004)

When I split up with my ex-wife (More on THAT crazy bitch later!), I celebrated my new-found freedom by doing what most guys who are in that transitional "I just got a divorce, let's act like I'm happy about my failed marriage" stage do. I drank. A LOT. I probably consumed enough alcohol to clean the cuts and scrapes of every soccer hooligan in Europe. I mean, I didn't end up in the E.R. getting my stomach pumped at 4 a.m. in the morning, or anything like THAT. But, I distinctly remember sitting in the bar one night after I had SNORTED (Literally.) my 3rd or 4th shot, and thinking to myself "Fuck ME! I really need to slow down!". Yeah. Tequila burns like a sonofabitch when you get it in your nostrils.

My friend, Turtle (I call him that because he sounds like the green sea turtle from Finding Nemo when he talks. He's a California surfer, what do you want from him, for Chrissakes?), started dating this chick that tended bar at the place next door to his job. She was nice enough, but she was a goth chick, so she was a little odd. Turtle had just ended his relationship with his son's mother, and he was happy to meet GothChick. I kept getting these phonecalls that consisted of him dominating the conversation by telling me how hot she was, and how I needed to come down to the bar, meet her, and do some drinking. Now, it's been my experience that, when a friend starts telling me how hot some chick he just met is, he's usually exaggerating a bit. Most of the time, she looks like a Backwoods Swamp-Donkey. But, there are exceptions to every rule.

So, one Friday night, as I was trying fight off the urge to call my ex-wife, I called Turtle instead. "Come get me, man. I'm feeling weak."

"No problem, dude, I'm on my way!"

And the adventure began.

The Kissing Contest

Now, The Woodsman was a bar in Springfield Oregon. It was your typical bar, low lights, pool tables, neon beer signs hanging everywhere, like I said, your typical bar. We all used to sit at something called the "Buddy Bar". It was, essentially, an island that was about 8 feet from the actual bar. I called it "Alky Island". For obvious reasons. The good thing about Alky Island, was that if you wanted a drink, you had walk by it to get to the bar. This made it possible to interact with pretty much everyone there at some point or other.

One night, this average chick was giving me the "hungry" eye. This means that she was interested, but had no idea how to approach me. I've got a big personality, I can be almost overwhelming at times. I've been told that it's a little intimidating. Fuck that, I'm a nice guy. You know, people always say that you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, but everybody does. So, after HungryChick had walked by 4 or 5 times, I grabbed her, and pulled her onto my lap. I thought she was gonna melt! I mean, why shouldn't she? I'm fuckin' awesome! She tells me that she's there with her best friend. "Oh, yeah? What are you guys into tonight?", I asked. She told me all about how her best friend had just broken up with her boyfriend, and one of the reasons was because she couldn't kiss. I immediately went in for the kill. "Kissing's important. It's the prelude to good sex. If you can't kiss, you're doomed to a life of shitty sex."

"That's not true", she replied, "I've had sex with guys who didn't kiss me at all, and the sex wasn't bad!"

"There's a big difference between "not bad", and "fucking amazing."

"Well, I've made out with her before, and I think she kisses just fine. But I think I'm the better kisser."

"Well of course you're gonna say that! Who's gonna admit to being a shitty kisser? I'll bet she kisses better than you!"

"Oh, I can prove it!" she hops up off my lap and runs to the back of the bar. Now, Turtle and our friend Einstein had been watching this whole exchange with smirks on their faces. "Dude, she's not coming back", Turtle said, "You fucking ran her off! Now she's pissed!"

"She'll be back. Watch and see." I replied. Chicks like that always come back. She had bad self-esteem, she was full of alcohol, and she had something to prove. I mean, come on! She hopped into my lap like it was nothing, and let me rub her ass for like 15 minutes while she talked about sucking face with her best friend, and didn't even know my name! A few minutes went by and I see her coming back with her friend. Good Lord. Her friend was as hot as she was average! "I told my friend what you said.", HungryChick told me. "She thought it was pretty funny, and wanted to meet you."

She jumped back into my lap. "We also decided to find out who the best kisser is out of the two of us. We're gonna have a kissing contest. We want you to kiss both of us and tell us which one kisses best."

Holy shit. Really? "I want you both to know, that I plan to be as impartial as I can.", I said with a smile. I proceeded to make out with first, HungryChick, and then, HotFriend. When I was done, every guy in a 25 foot radius was looking at me with complete envy. So just to be a dick, I did it again. Then I sat back, looked pensive for a moment, and told them, "You both suck." Alky Island erupted with laughter. They glared at me and walked off. Five minutes later, I saw them leaving the bar. People bought me drinks all night.