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SE++ Story Time
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Registered User regular
Tell me your stories. Keep your fanfiction out of here. I want the truth, goddamn it. Entertain me. Make me laugh. Make me cry. Make me repulsed since you shit on a bed in a hotel room and stole the tip for the maid. (Sorry Shibby.)
Here's one to start. It's true. Names have been changed to protect the guilty as fuck.
Here's one to start. It's true. Names have been changed to protect the guilty as fuck.
The Terminal... Give or take a few years.
Some of you have read the story of my marriage taking a swan dive into the shitter. Here is the debacle that was my trip home after three years in Colorado.
The plan was to visit for a week. Whether I stayed permanently was up for debate. I had no clue what to do. I was confused, hurt, depressed, borderline suicidal, and pretty much mentally fucked to the heavens.
So when the white powder appeared on a CD case in front of me, it didn't seem like a bad idea at the time.
"Fuck, man. I don't know. Is this coke?"
Dave, my best friend who I was living with at the time, free of charge, just looked at me.
"Coke is for pussies. That's methamphetamine. Look, I may never see you again. I won't be offended if you don't. But if this is it, and I never see you again, I want you to remember me as the person who fucked you up for life."
I took a deep breath. "Fair enough." And the powder disappeared.
Fifteen minutes later I had put my left eye back in it's socket and stopped calling him a motherfucker. Goddamn, that shit hurts. I was also talking constantly. I just didn't realize it.
I was suddenly fifteen feet tall and bulletproof. If you gave me a notebook and a pen I would solve the world's problems in a half hour. And I was suddenly horny as hell.
This was the condition we left for the airport in.
It was a 2 hour drive to Denver. We left 3 hours early per advice from Dave's uncle. We were right on time until my non-stop hershey squirts of the mouth made him miss the exit to the airport.
Twice.
With 30 minutes to catch my flight I swoop out of the car, grab my bags, hug Dave, and bust ass through the doors... to stand in the ass end of the longest line I have ever seen in my fucking existence. Apparently a massive computer failure shut down all but two check in lanes in the airport. I am well and truly fucked.
I get to the front 45 minutes later and get put on Stand By to Boston... behind 60 other people.
I have not slept in almost 26 hours. I haven't eaten in at least 18. I am totally broke. I apparently thought a shower was a waste of time I could have spent talking and now smell like Mick Foley's asshole. This is how I spent the next 16 hours at Denver International Airport.
The day turned into a routine: Check next flight to Boston. Sit at the gate until flight boards. Watch the Standby List shrink. Spend 2 hours trying to be slick and check out girls since I would have fucked a tree stump. Fail miserably and look like a stalker. Repeat until next flight.
The 4 PM flight comes along. I have been in the terminal since 7 in the morning. My name is mercifully called. I grab my newly printed pass, sit in my cramped seat... and hear the following announcement.
"Will all Stand By passengers please exit the plane."
Apparently six douchebag preferred flyers waltzed in whenever they felt like it. Since they are "preferred customers" and I am a shmuck who smells like an anchovie's cunt, I get booted off this particular flight.
The next one is at 11PM. That's 7 hours later, for those keeping track.
I am now crashing severely. A meth crash is not fun under optimal circumstances. Here it is my own personal hell.
I shuffled my way to the customer service counter. Once there I got to wait and hour in a line with quite a few very pissed off people. I get to the front and proceed to explode at the poor woman at the counter. These people showed up late, just as I had. They get to board and I get booted? What the righteous fuck kind of company do you work for? I calm myself down with a deep breath.
And then I burst into tears. Hysterical, body wracking, sobbing tears. The poor woman responds with a tilt of her head and a "Sir?"
"I'm visiting my parents I haven't seen in three years. I have no money. I haven't eaten in almost two days. I look like a rapist. And if someone doesn't no show for the flight tonight, I'm going to be sleeping in this fucking airport like a homeless person. Please just get me out of here."
A guaranteed spot is booked for a 3 PM flight the next day; their earliest opening. If something opens up before then, I can use the stand by ticket instead. The woman prints my ticket, holds up one finger, and disappears into the back.
Five minutes later she returns. I apologize for blowing up and slink away from the counter with my head down, still sniffling. I get past the crowd and open up my ticket folder.
And I see a 20 dollar bill tucked into the flap.
I look up in shock, now openly weeping again. The woman sees me, smiles, and puts a finger to her lips. I wave and head into the bathroom to compose myself.
And it was the best fucking McDonald's I've ever tasted.
Some of you have read the story of my marriage taking a swan dive into the shitter. Here is the debacle that was my trip home after three years in Colorado.
The plan was to visit for a week. Whether I stayed permanently was up for debate. I had no clue what to do. I was confused, hurt, depressed, borderline suicidal, and pretty much mentally fucked to the heavens.
So when the white powder appeared on a CD case in front of me, it didn't seem like a bad idea at the time.
"Fuck, man. I don't know. Is this coke?"
Dave, my best friend who I was living with at the time, free of charge, just looked at me.
"Coke is for pussies. That's methamphetamine. Look, I may never see you again. I won't be offended if you don't. But if this is it, and I never see you again, I want you to remember me as the person who fucked you up for life."
I took a deep breath. "Fair enough." And the powder disappeared.
Fifteen minutes later I had put my left eye back in it's socket and stopped calling him a motherfucker. Goddamn, that shit hurts. I was also talking constantly. I just didn't realize it.
I was suddenly fifteen feet tall and bulletproof. If you gave me a notebook and a pen I would solve the world's problems in a half hour. And I was suddenly horny as hell.
This was the condition we left for the airport in.
It was a 2 hour drive to Denver. We left 3 hours early per advice from Dave's uncle. We were right on time until my non-stop hershey squirts of the mouth made him miss the exit to the airport.
Twice.
With 30 minutes to catch my flight I swoop out of the car, grab my bags, hug Dave, and bust ass through the doors... to stand in the ass end of the longest line I have ever seen in my fucking existence. Apparently a massive computer failure shut down all but two check in lanes in the airport. I am well and truly fucked.
I get to the front 45 minutes later and get put on Stand By to Boston... behind 60 other people.
I have not slept in almost 26 hours. I haven't eaten in at least 18. I am totally broke. I apparently thought a shower was a waste of time I could have spent talking and now smell like Mick Foley's asshole. This is how I spent the next 16 hours at Denver International Airport.
The day turned into a routine: Check next flight to Boston. Sit at the gate until flight boards. Watch the Standby List shrink. Spend 2 hours trying to be slick and check out girls since I would have fucked a tree stump. Fail miserably and look like a stalker. Repeat until next flight.
The 4 PM flight comes along. I have been in the terminal since 7 in the morning. My name is mercifully called. I grab my newly printed pass, sit in my cramped seat... and hear the following announcement.
"Will all Stand By passengers please exit the plane."
Apparently six douchebag preferred flyers waltzed in whenever they felt like it. Since they are "preferred customers" and I am a shmuck who smells like an anchovie's cunt, I get booted off this particular flight.
The next one is at 11PM. That's 7 hours later, for those keeping track.
I am now crashing severely. A meth crash is not fun under optimal circumstances. Here it is my own personal hell.
I shuffled my way to the customer service counter. Once there I got to wait and hour in a line with quite a few very pissed off people. I get to the front and proceed to explode at the poor woman at the counter. These people showed up late, just as I had. They get to board and I get booted? What the righteous fuck kind of company do you work for? I calm myself down with a deep breath.
And then I burst into tears. Hysterical, body wracking, sobbing tears. The poor woman responds with a tilt of her head and a "Sir?"
"I'm visiting my parents I haven't seen in three years. I have no money. I haven't eaten in almost two days. I look like a rapist. And if someone doesn't no show for the flight tonight, I'm going to be sleeping in this fucking airport like a homeless person. Please just get me out of here."
A guaranteed spot is booked for a 3 PM flight the next day; their earliest opening. If something opens up before then, I can use the stand by ticket instead. The woman prints my ticket, holds up one finger, and disappears into the back.
Five minutes later she returns. I apologize for blowing up and slink away from the counter with my head down, still sniffling. I get past the crowd and open up my ticket folder.
And I see a 20 dollar bill tucked into the flap.
I look up in shock, now openly weeping again. The woman sees me, smiles, and puts a finger to her lips. I wave and head into the bathroom to compose myself.
And it was the best fucking McDonald's I've ever tasted.
I got on the 11PM flight.
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whooops guess pony can't post in here
Like... a lot of them.
hey satan...: thinkgeek amazon My post |
man you know that's what got you that jackson.
Tumblr blargh
This
Maybe I'll tell one of my many stories of wearing a houndstooth jacket, going to a party, and almost getting beat-up over it
But I gotta piss like a racehorse first
are you still a meth head?
one time, i ate so much swedish fish i broke out in a rash on my arms. it was worth it.
but it's no return of jafaar
I'm glad to say no. I've been clean since I moved back for good two years ago. I only did it for a few months, but I did it a lot. There's a couple more stories about that experience that I have.
Edit: Doing meth was fucking retarded. But at the time I was bordering suicidal due to the situation and pretty much didn't give a flying fuck what happened to me.
good work then
I have no idea what you're talking about. At all.
:^:
you have no idea how confusing that was. i tried to process that sentence about ten times before i moved onto the next and it all came clear
Then I get the call that throws my evening, my life, into madness. It's Ryan 2, the Ryan Who is Not my Roommate, Ryan Whatever. He's inviting me to a football game. The stadium is a five minute walk, so I figure why not? What's the worst that could happen?
At the game I meet up with Ryan 2 and his unremarkable posse. Alcohol is imbibed, pills are taken (not by me, I would remain woefully sober through the evening) and plans are made. Ryan 2 introduces me to his high school sister and her friend, both aged eighteen. Ryan 2's sister, henceforth known as "Chloe" grabs my crotch as way of introduction. I push her hand away and she staggers back eight feet, through the crush of sweaty college football fans.
"She's been drinking since yesterday afternoon. She's made out with six guys so far, man. I don't know what to do."
"Keep an eye on her, I guess," is my reply. What would you say?
The game progresses into a one-sider, so we leave at the half. As we walk towards Ryan 2's apartment it becomes evident just how drunk Chloe and her friend Kareena are. They stagger into traffic several times, snatched back just in time to avoid being splattered. We get back to the apartment complex and walk around, party-hopping. We are continually forced to leave because Chloe is making out with someone, and Ryan 2 gets just angry enough to cause a scene. She beats us back to Ryan 2's apartment, and we find her half-naked with a guy no one knows on the couch. Ryan 2 kicks him in the head and yells at him to leave.
"Where's Kareena?" Chloe asks.
Kareena is, we find out sucking off three guys at once (or taking turns, I guess) in Ryan 2's room. She's so happy to see us that she spits her mouthful on my new Chuck Taylor's. Chloe, upon entering the room, freaks out and starts slapping the guys. This is when I find out that neither girl had ever had anything to drink or anything to do with boys before this weekend. One of the guys, upon being slapped, gets a gun out of his pants and fires a shot into the ceiling. I figure this is the time to leave. I later found out that Chloe ended up having sex with him.
On the walk home I get a call that my grandfather has died.
Update a week later:
I went over, mostly because I lost my spanish book but I needed to do homework for today, and Ryan 2's in my spanish class. Kareena (dicksuck debutante) is not present, but Chloe is, and she's in full force. Ryan 2's decision to not let her drink didn't stick, basically. Ryan 2 wants to go to the Halo 3 release thing, which Ryan Prime is already at due to his writing an article about it. We ride over, Chloe in the bed of the truck, drunk and drinking. As we pull into the parking lot, she throws her shirt in through the back window.
"YEAH!" she yells "FUCKING NERDS, I GOT AN X-BOX FOR YOU!"
We're not here to buy halo, thank god, just to talk to people kind of. Also I'm taking pictures for Ryan Prime's article. I separate myself from Ryan 2 and Chloe (who by this point has been persuaded back into her beer-soaked shirt) and take some pictures. I might upload a few of these later (but none with chloe or Ryan 2 in them). We talk to a GSU Football player who has been given a place of honor at the front of the line. This would turn out to be kind of a curse.
Chloe has decided, based on an offhand comment from Ryan 2 ("wish I had that spot") that the football player, who happens to be a black fellow, is cheating somehow. So, she slaps him.
I'll give you a second to take that image in.
He stands up, knocking over his plate of complimentary wings.
"Somebody need to get this bitch out from me. I will knock your goddamn nose off, bitch! I ain't a n*gga to fuck with!"
"Yeah, that's all you are...just a big dumb n*gger!"
Ryan Prime and I chose this point to head home before we are tarred with the same brush, and I am lectured by Ryan Prime on the importance of choosing the right vestigial friends. According to Ryan 2, with whom I have a 2PM class, Chloe was hustled away as the football player was physically restrained from doing whatever he was going to do. Chloe is, today, unrepentant.
I'm like the Sentry with suave it's in there somewhere but damn if I can tap it consciously.
I was snorting pure Edward Norton.
also she has a ho-bag
Cops show up, they tell that I am drunk, and proceed to write me a fine or whatever. I try to defuse the situation by making small talk. Telling the cops that they would make good doctors, asking what their parents did. And repeating that they would be good doctors. Out of 30 ish people at the party, me and 1 other person get MIPs (Minor In Possesion)
I go to court, while 17, and ask the judge if I can go through the juvenile program. He says "No, you have to be under 16 to qualify for the youth program". I tell him, legitimately polite, "When I did research on it, the information said it was under 18". He gets his aid to go check it. Turns out I was right.
So the county gives over jurisdiction over me to the juvenile program, but they fuck it up so it takes a couple months to actually switch me over. In the meantime, I turn 18. So now, the juvenile program cannot do anything to me, because I am 18. And the county cannot do anything because they gave up jurisdiction.
Basically, I lucked out.
I buried my grandma today, the last of my grandparents
this was my father's mother, the peruvian side
both her and my grandfather chose to be buried in their peasants clothes they wore in peru when they celebrated good friday
also, shoeless and in the cheapest coffin the funeral home had
it didn't even have handles
my grandma's only other request was that she be buried with the only material possession she loved, her virgin mary image she had since she was a little girl
that fucking got to me when I found that out
Jesus Pip. I'm sorry.
we were all well ready for it, but I didn't know about the peasant's burial
to say that my extended family could afford whatever burial my grandparents could have wanted is understating it
they wanted us to always remember where they came from
plus I don't want people to think I'm one-note