being raped by a woman is not at all sexy or pleasant!
by golly was i shocked
maybe if you're gay
If you'd been following along with the thread, you'd know that he is.
Also, in all seriousness, I get super sick super fast of all the guys (ladies?) who respond to teacher-molested-her-student cases with "durrhurr why didn't I get into that class?"
ETA: to be more on topic, and to get this in before homeless people stories go out of style in the Strange and Embarrassing moments thread (and may God help us if that happens): I met the nicest crazy homeless lady in Japan. My American buddies and I were walking into a train station at night when this dancing homeless lady called out to us, "Ganbatte, gaijin! Ganbatte!" which means something like, "Do your best, foreigners! Go for it!" She didn't ask for money or anything; just wanted to give us a little moral support and let us feel welcome, I guess.
This was also the night we saw a Japanese (suspected) transvestite hooker get turned down by a few cars she walked up to, which I have to admit was pretty amusing. The running commentary was maybe a little mean but we were out of earshot and not speaking his/her language.
There's a photo on my friend's facebook of him and some asian lady on the train. Apparently she asked to take a photo with him because she had never seen a brown man before.
It would be funnier if this exact same situation hadn't happened. The guy survived but he was raped for 9 days or something.
Holy christ. Was that constant or was there at least a little downtime between sessions? Because I can hardly imagine even the most multi-orgasmic of men being able to stand that.
Hell, how did that situation come about? If you don't mind my asking of course.
While I understand you're just being fascious, this kind of mentality is far too rapart. Most men go into those situations thinking these women are A: Perfectly healthy and B: Are perfectly intact and don't have kinks to them. To get to the sexual point of needing to rape someone though, of course these women are going to have kinks. Very odd kinks that obviously would be very difficult to find a consenting partner for, hence another reason they rape.
Basically: I wish guys would stop joking about female rape being a good and pleasureable experience. Sure it can happen but God dammit - it's a serious issue people. *Cue obligatory meme*
being raped by a woman is not at all sexy or pleasant!
by golly was i shocked
maybe if you're gay
If you'd been following along with the thread, you'd know that he is.
Also, in all seriousness, I get super sick super fast of all the guys (ladies?) who respond to teacher-molested-her-student cases with "durrhurr why didn't I get into that class?"
ETA: to be more on topic, and to get this in before homeless people stories go out of style in the Strange and Embarrassing moments thread (and may God help us if that happens): I met the nicest crazy homeless lady in Japan. My American buddies and I were walking into a train station at night when this dancing homeless lady called out to us, "Ganbatte, gaijin! Ganbatte!" which means something like, "Do your best, foreigners! Go for it!" She didn't ask for money or anything; just wanted to give us a little moral support and let us feel welcome, I guess.
This was also the night we saw a Japanese (suspected) transvestite hooker get turned down by a few cars she walked up to, which I have to admit was pretty amusing. The running commentary was maybe a little mean but we were out of earshot and not speaking his/her language.
i'm not gay
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UnluckyThat's not meant to happenRegistered Userregular
edited September 2009
Bi? Or just willing to do anyone to your desired purpose? In the case of that story, to take vengeance on someone.
Really, not trying to sound like a dick here - just generally curious.
It would be funnier if this exact same situation hadn't happened. The guy survived but he was raped for 9 days or something.
Holy christ. Was that constant or was there at least a little downtime between sessions? Because I can hardly imagine even the most multi-orgasmic of men being able to stand that.
Hell, how did that situation come about? If you don't mind my asking of course.
Apparently the guy went into a closet to have consentual sex with an inmate, and came out 9 days later after all the female's friends took turns with him.
i was a pretty terrible kid in school. i was into drugs and other such nonsense which is outside the scope of this story.
anyway, the school was kind of aware of it, i guess some of my teachers complained
so they assigned me this dude who was to be my "peer counselor". the program was supposed to be like a tutor and a big brother rolled into one. kind of a good idea in theory, but in practice they chose really terrible people for it and applied the program pretty hamfistedly.
i got hauled into the guidance office one day, and they made me an offer: accept a peer counselor and work with him to improve my grades and attendance, or fail all of my courses and be expelled.
so i accepted it, and i started hanging out with this guy. he was a nice chap, real smart, but see this is the problem with these peer counselor dudes: they volunteer for these positions, and are chosen on the basis of being bright-eyed young go-getters who can connect with younger students and are good academically and have the right "moral foundation". that means they are good, clean catholics. (it's a catholic high school)
so, i meet this guy, and he's a good chap, but the problem is he has no way to relate to me at all. he's like this terminally uncool dork, the sort you see on television shows about high school kids. but he's trying really hard and he seems very sincere.
however, he's one of those people who, for all their clean living and good churchyness, are kind of a judgmental asshole. he wasn't so much trying to help me as he was trying to correct who i am. he was good-natured, and i think ultimately his intentions were good, but his method was so sanctimonious and prickish, i really developed a dislike for this fucker the school assigned me with.
so i developed this plan to be rid of him. i was going to use my gay against him. just very subtlely start hitting on him at first, and then over time ramping it up until he's so disgusted with me he'd give up. i figured, if he quit over that, and the school expelled me because of that, i could probably sue or something.
However, my plan did not go as I envisioned it!
apparently, he was a pretty repressed homosexual himself! all that churchyness and clean-living was just a mask of denial. So when I started with the flirtation, it opened up a whole door I was not expecting at all. he was intrigued, but also kind of upset. he was conflicted about the whole thing. at first, i felt bad for him, and actually felt sympathy.
i made a move on him a week later, and he reciprocated for a bit at first, but then he flipped out and attacked me. i put a stop to that (i was bigger than him and a great deal more adept with such matters). he and i got to talking, and he was so filled with hatred not just of himself but also of me, it was simply impossible for me to feel anything but contempt for him. he felt like he had a disease, and that i was making it worse and that i was the one at fault for bringing this evil thing out of him. he threatened to out me to the whole school, that to deny any reciprocation on his part. he said that he'd destroy my reputation, get me kicked off the football team, etc. he was projecting all his self-hatred shit onto me.
i called his bluff, and told him to try it. he didn't. he stayed as my peer counselor, and he tried to talk me into going to this camp thing where they would "fix what was wrong with us". i began to really, really hate him, and was filled with a renewed interest in destroying all of his denial and bullshit in the coldest, most absolute way possible.
so i kept at trying to get with him. he'd dodge sometimes, and sometimes not, and then he'd get angry and feel guilty and hate me. but he'd keep coming back. this went on for two months before i managed to work him up to the big A, because i knew for him that was a point of no return, hearing how he talked about it.
so i had to catch. he was uncomfortable with catching. i knew it was something i had to work him into, so i was okay with being the catcher at first. my god, it was hilarious, looking back. he was so nervous and terrified of everything. every little sound he swore was his parents coming home (they were gone for the weekend). he lost his nerve and his bone three times. finally got to it, and it was uncomfortable, unpleseant, but thankfully only like a minute before he was done.
we switched spots, and he really, really hated it, but at the same time, it was like we crossed some kind of event horizon.
because now, suddenly he was okay with it all. he was ready to be out. he told me he loved me. it's pretty easy for a guy to let them words fly when someone makes them orgasm.
it was like suddenly a magic switch got thrown and pwooof, he was okay with being gay now.
So long as I stood with him.
And that, my friends, is where we entered Endgame
A week after this, he came out to his parents. He came out to his parents and I was there. He told off his father. He called his mother a bitch. He basically just unleashed 17 years worth of repression with both barrels on his parents. Now, I'm sure there was a part of all this they deserved. Definitely, the religious shit he endured was their fault. However, he was being unfair and hate-filled. Like he had done to me, he was projecting all his hatred on someone else. It was really unfortunate to watch, but, I knew he was such a shit-heel of a person that I had a hard time feeling bad about it. I even held his hand.
Then came his friends. He told them too. They, being clean-cut Catholic types, of course rejected him. But he didn't care! He told them all off, burned his bridges and pissed on the ashes. It was all okay, as long as I was with him.
I dumped him a week later and told the guidance department he molested me, but that I wouldn't press charges because I couldn't suffer the personal embarassment of being outed to everyone like that and I'd be okay with keeping quiet if they just did something about him.
The next day, he was gone from school and I never heard from him or about him again.
i often copy paste old posts i have made instead of re-writing them from scratch
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UnluckyThat's not meant to happenRegistered Userregular
edited September 2009
Personally, I applaud this behavior. There's no problems with telling new people about old things and saving yourself a lot of energy and effort by merely copy and pasting something. Means nothing gets lost in re-translation.
Forgive me people for not offering up stupid or embarrasing stories, most of my stories are really quite depressing and frankly not stuff I can share. I'm currently in the process of reparing myself emotionally so a lot of old hurts are coming back up, which is presenting problems in my life. So, I may post something if I remember it properly - for the time being, my memory is too terrible to offer up anything of decency.
i have a drunken nights story that ended with vomit and falling over.
I used to work for one of englands largest banks and we were all a tight nit group of people there and we more often than not would go drinking after work on a friday as a big group.
this one time we had all arranged to meet at a pub near to were we worked, other went home to get changed. I however had a half day so i had agreed to meet them all there, i turned up a little early and had decided to get eht ball rolling so i had a double vodka and coke (ive never been one for beers) i was waiting a while so i decided to have another double and coke. i was on my third when other people arrived so yeah great teh actual fun times can begin my friend offered to buy me a drink so i had a kopperburg pear cider and then bought a few for my self (please note children: never mix cider and vodka) and we all sat down and had a good old chat whilst the rest of the work gang arrived.
this is where are cold war get hot.
a friend of mine called matt challenged me to a drinking contest, already a bit tipsy i agreed.
now me and matt were both big guys, not fat just...big, were both well over six foot and very wide in the sholder department so we can hold alot of booze in our tanks.
anyway there were no rules we just had to out drink each other.
i will now list what i consumed that night befor it went bad.
3x double vodka and coke
4x kopperburg pear
6x pitchers of long island ice tea (contains six normal glasses of said cocktail and three of which also contain a shot of wray and nephews ultra strong rum)
and to top it all off an extra three shots of wray and nephews.
so it was no wonder i was absolutly rotten drunk, i then got up and declared loudly to all my work peeps i was going to take a piss then stumbled into the toilet.
i will now write the passing of the next half hour from there perspective and mine.
work peeps point of view:
There all sitting down having fun and chatting now the big drunk bastard has gone, matt has stopped his heavy drinking now seeing as i have gotten shit faced and he can now know that whilst i won teh battle he won the war and will feel better then me in the morning....but some time passes and they wonder where i am, no biggie im drunk so every thing will prolly take a lil longer....30 mins pass there is still no sign of me so matt and another friend craig decide to find me.
My point of view:
jesus christ i need a piss must hurry into the bathroom, oh god the floors wet! eww can no one piss in the urinals in this place...shit there are people at the urinals! i will have to use one of the stalls! i hurry into the stalls and have one of the longest pisses ever, it was like the austen powers length it stopped and then carried on, satisfired and still very drunk i lean forward to flush.
i push down a little to hard on the handle.
my ballance shifts.
i slip on the wet floor.
i fall forward smack my self on the toilet, fall down beside it and black out.
no heres where the storys join back up
matt and craig walkinto the toilet to find one of the stall doors shut and my legs sticking out from under it. not knowing what to do and if i can be woken matt contemplates breaking the door down, one lone toiklet hero offeres to call an ambulance, they decline and instead talk me into getting back up, i regain my slef stand up do my jeans back up which are now damp with floor piss and walk out side to those to wonderful men who clean me up and get me to splash my face with water to try and sober me up.
when we get back out side my whole team from work have a good old laugh by how drunk i am, at this point i am making no sence and just quietly babbling and then once ive been sat down for a while i proceed to vomit into a pint glass all the way to the very top, i wipe my mouth on the lip of the glass and dont spill a drop, then i pic up a second pint glass and do the same thing in that one, the other looking on in horror and not knowing what to do hide them bith behind a menu and then craig and matt drive me home....i apparently gave crystal clear directions back to my house.
so yeah the next monday back at work was fun hah
tl;dr i got pissed fellover in a toilet for half an hour then was sick in two pint glasses
So I have a story, not as great as the Willie Shakes in this thread, but here goes:
In Texas, they have recreational and outdoor activity parks, the one I went to was named Brackenridge Park. Brackenridge has a sort of carnival/theme park train that you can ride, see a few things, listen to the conductor, and have a good time. I was with my brother and mom, and the compartments for this train weren't that big, generally two to a seat but we scrunched into one compartment and were off.
The train goes through a dark tunnel, and it was a habit for families to playfully freak each other out(simulating your hand as a spider and 'crawling' on your kid's neck) or scream to cause a playful terror for passengers. So this time around I decided that screaming would be fun.
I let out a booming, murderous, Tarzan-esque scream, a scream where you could feel your muscles flex and left you gasping for air. I don't stop until we're out of the tunnel, where I finally caught the startled faces of the passengers in the front compartments, looking back to see if anyone had somehow injured themselves during the tunnel ride. I turn around as well to pretend like I wasn't the one screaming his lungs out, but I don't think anyone bought it.
Afterwards, my brother and mom laughed a ton, and so did I, but I didn't realize how loud I was and I guess it was loud enough to be alarming to other families or friends.
Damn, pear cider sounds delicious! Is this a foreign thing?
Also, way to get shitfaced in front of people from work. A drinking contest? Really?
pear cider is one of the greatest things on gods earth, i simply cannot tell you how nice it is, you know how some apple ciders have a horrible after taste? not so with pear its just yummy.
and yes the drinking contest in retrospect was a horrible idea, still they all found it funny on monday morning, and now i dont work there any more i dont have to deal with them ever again!
Since it's apparently Blasphemy Day, I figure it'd be appropriate to share this near embarrassing moment, which actually has to do with me and not Mal for a change.
So, as a graduation present, my grandparents decided to take me on a trip across the Mediterranean, specifically setting it out to where I'd be able to check out some major archaeological sites in the process (arch major here). Of course, no European trip based around seeing stuff of archaeological and historic significance would be complete without stopping in Rome. Further more, my grandmother is hardcore Spanish Catholic, so there's no way in hell that we'd go to Rome without going to the Vatican. Even further more, it was a Sunday.
As a part of the city tour we were a part of, we were taken to lunch at this really fancy but basic Italian restaurant. The food was good, but the importance of this lunch to the story is that they were giving us wine along with lunch. Now, this isn't just a "here's a glass of wine to enjoy with your lunch" type of free wine with the meal. This was "here's a bottle of wine to enjoy with your meal...oh, you finished your bottle, here have another on the house" type of free wine. They pour me a glass, and I take a sip. It's actually really good wine, so I end up downing it pretty quickly. They return promptly and fill the glass up. As we wait for the meal proper, this kind of continues all throughout our appetizer and salad. By the time the meal has gone around, I've already practically cleared a bottle all on my own. I notice the waiter returning and I have a brief moment of self debate on the subject. After realizing that I was already getting a little tipsy, I decided that if I'm going to go to the Vatican tipsy, I might as well do the distance.
After the meal, we hop on the bus over to the Vatican. Somehow, I managed to hide my state from my grandmother, but my sister was very much aware and couldn't do anything other than alternating between shaking her head and laugh. We get to the gates, are dropped off, and walk into the main courtyard.
I was in the goddamned Vatican.
And I was fucking DRUNK.
Taking my camera out, I started taking random picture and video, adding in colorful commentary to the shots. One of the videos has me reacting to hearing that the highest point of the Basilica is supposed to mark the spot where St. Peter was burried, to which I responded "Goddamn, that's a pretty impressive grave marker for a rabbit" and then singing the Latin version of the Peter Cottontail song.
I also chased a couple pidgins around, taking pictures of them in the process for some reason.
After this, it was time to enter the Basilica, probably the most important building for all catholics. While still very much intoxicated, I was able to enjoy enough clarity to appreciate the artistic and historical value of the building. Then something started to hit me. There was something very much missing from all of the murals, statues, and paintings around the place.
Jesus is surprisingly absent from most of the paintings, and pretty much all of the statues (outside of a couple of Baby Jesus being held by various popes or saints, but those hardly count). Despite not being a very religious person, this angered drunken DD very much and I started to move around faster to try to find some evidence that the people who had designed and decorated the place had given some consideration to the goddamned founder of the religion. After searching around the entirety of the main cathedral area, I finally found a single solitary statue of Jesus...in an alcove in a back corner. Even then, he was standing behind a group of popes/saints.
The fact that random popes were getting more attention than the person who's name is right there in the goddamn name (it certainly isn't named Ratzenburgism, isn't it?) angered me in my drunken state, causing me to blurt out "God...man....FUCK the pope."
Either nobody heard me or I was surrounded by enough people who didn't speak english to where nobody knew what I had said. Point being, I some how managed to walk into probably the most important churches on a Sunday, drunkenly blasphemed the pope, and go away with it. I started to sober up fairly soon afterward, realizing how narrowly I missed being caught in something that would have probably brought down the wrath of some very angry pilgrims. After that, I kind of clammed up, went back to my group (I had wandered off when we went in), and we eventually left.
Still can't believe that there's only one statue. Goddamn.
tl;dr: I got drunk, went into the Vatican, and said "Fuck the Pope" where people should have but somehow didn't hear me.
Isn't there sort of a big statue of Jesus near the front? I think it's called The Pieta?
I actually over looked it when I originally went through the area, though I think that that one is in the entrance hall, and not in the main section of the building.
I just need to correct the assertion last page that a bottle of wine has the same alcohol content as a carton of beer.
There are ~7 standard drinks in a bottle of wine.
Light beer is 0.9-1.0 standard drinks per bottle. Of which there are 24 in a carton......
That's not even talking standard beer, at 1.2-1.4.
So yeah. There's that.
CASE AS IN 12 PACK. AS IN THE PREVIOUSLY STATED 36 BEERS. YOU MUST READ BEFORE YOU POST.
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KakodaimonosCode fondlerHelping the 1% get richerRegistered Userregular
edited October 2009
Hah, just wait till you hit magical age of 40 and go in for your checkup. Which leads to an interesting conundrum. Female doctors have smaller hands. But they're female hands.
I read you catheter story to my mom who is a nurse Pony. All she did was laugh and keep laughing. Good story. I don't know what is worse though, an attractive women putting it in or having a guy about the same age doing while explaining it to another guy who is standing there watching because that is what happened to me.
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If you'd been following along with the thread, you'd know that he is.
Also, in all seriousness, I get super sick super fast of all the guys (ladies?) who respond to teacher-molested-her-student cases with "durrhurr why didn't I get into that class?"
ETA: to be more on topic, and to get this in before homeless people stories go out of style in the Strange and Embarrassing moments thread (and may God help us if that happens): I met the nicest crazy homeless lady in Japan. My American buddies and I were walking into a train station at night when this dancing homeless lady called out to us, "Ganbatte, gaijin! Ganbatte!" which means something like, "Do your best, foreigners! Go for it!" She didn't ask for money or anything; just wanted to give us a little moral support and let us feel welcome, I guess.
This was also the night we saw a Japanese (suspected) transvestite hooker get turned down by a few cars she walked up to, which I have to admit was pretty amusing. The running commentary was maybe a little mean but we were out of earshot and not speaking his/her language.
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ege02.gif
Hell, how did that situation come about? If you don't mind my asking of course.
While I understand you're just being fascious, this kind of mentality is far too rapart. Most men go into those situations thinking these women are A: Perfectly healthy and B: Are perfectly intact and don't have kinks to them. To get to the sexual point of needing to rape someone though, of course these women are going to have kinks. Very odd kinks that obviously would be very difficult to find a consenting partner for, hence another reason they rape.
Basically: I wish guys would stop joking about female rape being a good and pleasureable experience. Sure it can happen but God dammit - it's a serious issue people. *Cue obligatory meme*
i'm not gay
Really, not trying to sound like a dick here - just generally curious.
bi
Apparently the guy went into a closet to have consentual sex with an inmate, and came out 9 days later after all the female's friends took turns with him.
STEAM
I mean at some point
the mood has been killed
Pluto was a planet and I'll never forget
STEAM
RAPIST!
There are ~7 standard drinks in a bottle of wine.
Light beer is 0.9-1.0 standard drinks per bottle. Of which there are 24 in a carton......
That's not even talking standard beer, at 1.2-1.4.
So yeah. There's that.
Asshole you copy-pasted this
Way to take the bitch way out
i often copy paste old posts i have made instead of re-writing them from scratch
Forgive me people for not offering up stupid or embarrasing stories, most of my stories are really quite depressing and frankly not stuff I can share. I'm currently in the process of reparing myself emotionally so a lot of old hurts are coming back up, which is presenting problems in my life. So, I may post something if I remember it properly - for the time being, my memory is too terrible to offer up anything of decency.
Yea I recognized the other one
this one time we had all arranged to meet at a pub near to were we worked, other went home to get changed. I however had a half day so i had agreed to meet them all there, i turned up a little early and had decided to get eht ball rolling so i had a double vodka and coke (ive never been one for beers) i was waiting a while so i decided to have another double and coke. i was on my third when other people arrived so yeah great teh actual fun times can begin my friend offered to buy me a drink so i had a kopperburg pear cider and then bought a few for my self (please note children: never mix cider and vodka) and we all sat down and had a good old chat whilst the rest of the work gang arrived.
this is where are cold war get hot.
a friend of mine called matt challenged me to a drinking contest, already a bit tipsy i agreed.
now me and matt were both big guys, not fat just...big, were both well over six foot and very wide in the sholder department so we can hold alot of booze in our tanks.
anyway there were no rules we just had to out drink each other.
i will now list what i consumed that night befor it went bad.
3x double vodka and coke
4x kopperburg pear
6x pitchers of long island ice tea (contains six normal glasses of said cocktail and three of which also contain a shot of wray and nephews ultra strong rum)
and to top it all off an extra three shots of wray and nephews.
so it was no wonder i was absolutly rotten drunk, i then got up and declared loudly to all my work peeps i was going to take a piss then stumbled into the toilet.
i will now write the passing of the next half hour from there perspective and mine.
work peeps point of view:
There all sitting down having fun and chatting now the big drunk bastard has gone, matt has stopped his heavy drinking now seeing as i have gotten shit faced and he can now know that whilst i won teh battle he won the war and will feel better then me in the morning....but some time passes and they wonder where i am, no biggie im drunk so every thing will prolly take a lil longer....30 mins pass there is still no sign of me so matt and another friend craig decide to find me.
My point of view:
jesus christ i need a piss must hurry into the bathroom, oh god the floors wet! eww can no one piss in the urinals in this place...shit there are people at the urinals! i will have to use one of the stalls! i hurry into the stalls and have one of the longest pisses ever, it was like the austen powers length it stopped and then carried on, satisfired and still very drunk i lean forward to flush.
i push down a little to hard on the handle.
my ballance shifts.
i slip on the wet floor.
i fall forward smack my self on the toilet, fall down beside it and black out.
no heres where the storys join back up
matt and craig walkinto the toilet to find one of the stall doors shut and my legs sticking out from under it. not knowing what to do and if i can be woken matt contemplates breaking the door down, one lone toiklet hero offeres to call an ambulance, they decline and instead talk me into getting back up, i regain my slef stand up do my jeans back up which are now damp with floor piss and walk out side to those to wonderful men who clean me up and get me to splash my face with water to try and sober me up.
when we get back out side my whole team from work have a good old laugh by how drunk i am, at this point i am making no sence and just quietly babbling and then once ive been sat down for a while i proceed to vomit into a pint glass all the way to the very top, i wipe my mouth on the lip of the glass and dont spill a drop, then i pic up a second pint glass and do the same thing in that one, the other looking on in horror and not knowing what to do hide them bith behind a menu and then craig and matt drive me home....i apparently gave crystal clear directions back to my house.
so yeah the next monday back at work was fun hah
tl;dr i got pissed fellover in a toilet for half an hour then was sick in two pint glasses
In Texas, they have recreational and outdoor activity parks, the one I went to was named Brackenridge Park. Brackenridge has a sort of carnival/theme park train that you can ride, see a few things, listen to the conductor, and have a good time. I was with my brother and mom, and the compartments for this train weren't that big, generally two to a seat but we scrunched into one compartment and were off.
The train goes through a dark tunnel, and it was a habit for families to playfully freak each other out(simulating your hand as a spider and 'crawling' on your kid's neck) or scream to cause a playful terror for passengers. So this time around I decided that screaming would be fun.
I let out a booming, murderous, Tarzan-esque scream, a scream where you could feel your muscles flex and left you gasping for air. I don't stop until we're out of the tunnel, where I finally caught the startled faces of the passengers in the front compartments, looking back to see if anyone had somehow injured themselves during the tunnel ride. I turn around as well to pretend like I wasn't the one screaming his lungs out, but I don't think anyone bought it.
Afterwards, my brother and mom laughed a ton, and so did I, but I didn't realize how loud I was and I guess it was loud enough to be alarming to other families or friends.
Also, way to get shitfaced in front of people from work. A drinking contest? Really?
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pear cider is one of the greatest things on gods earth, i simply cannot tell you how nice it is, you know how some apple ciders have a horrible after taste? not so with pear its just yummy.
and yes the drinking contest in retrospect was a horrible idea, still they all found it funny on monday morning, and now i dont work there any more i dont have to deal with them ever again!
So, as a graduation present, my grandparents decided to take me on a trip across the Mediterranean, specifically setting it out to where I'd be able to check out some major archaeological sites in the process (arch major here). Of course, no European trip based around seeing stuff of archaeological and historic significance would be complete without stopping in Rome. Further more, my grandmother is hardcore Spanish Catholic, so there's no way in hell that we'd go to Rome without going to the Vatican. Even further more, it was a Sunday.
As a part of the city tour we were a part of, we were taken to lunch at this really fancy but basic Italian restaurant. The food was good, but the importance of this lunch to the story is that they were giving us wine along with lunch. Now, this isn't just a "here's a glass of wine to enjoy with your lunch" type of free wine with the meal. This was "here's a bottle of wine to enjoy with your meal...oh, you finished your bottle, here have another on the house" type of free wine. They pour me a glass, and I take a sip. It's actually really good wine, so I end up downing it pretty quickly. They return promptly and fill the glass up. As we wait for the meal proper, this kind of continues all throughout our appetizer and salad. By the time the meal has gone around, I've already practically cleared a bottle all on my own. I notice the waiter returning and I have a brief moment of self debate on the subject. After realizing that I was already getting a little tipsy, I decided that if I'm going to go to the Vatican tipsy, I might as well do the distance.
After the meal, we hop on the bus over to the Vatican. Somehow, I managed to hide my state from my grandmother, but my sister was very much aware and couldn't do anything other than alternating between shaking her head and laugh. We get to the gates, are dropped off, and walk into the main courtyard.
I was in the goddamned Vatican.
And I was fucking DRUNK.
Taking my camera out, I started taking random picture and video, adding in colorful commentary to the shots. One of the videos has me reacting to hearing that the highest point of the Basilica is supposed to mark the spot where St. Peter was burried, to which I responded "Goddamn, that's a pretty impressive grave marker for a rabbit" and then singing the Latin version of the Peter Cottontail song.
I also chased a couple pidgins around, taking pictures of them in the process for some reason.
After this, it was time to enter the Basilica, probably the most important building for all catholics. While still very much intoxicated, I was able to enjoy enough clarity to appreciate the artistic and historical value of the building. Then something started to hit me. There was something very much missing from all of the murals, statues, and paintings around the place.
Jesus is surprisingly absent from most of the paintings, and pretty much all of the statues (outside of a couple of Baby Jesus being held by various popes or saints, but those hardly count). Despite not being a very religious person, this angered drunken DD very much and I started to move around faster to try to find some evidence that the people who had designed and decorated the place had given some consideration to the goddamned founder of the religion. After searching around the entirety of the main cathedral area, I finally found a single solitary statue of Jesus...in an alcove in a back corner. Even then, he was standing behind a group of popes/saints.
The fact that random popes were getting more attention than the person who's name is right there in the goddamn name (it certainly isn't named Ratzenburgism, isn't it?) angered me in my drunken state, causing me to blurt out "God...man....FUCK the pope."
Either nobody heard me or I was surrounded by enough people who didn't speak english to where nobody knew what I had said. Point being, I some how managed to walk into probably the most important churches on a Sunday, drunkenly blasphemed the pope, and go away with it. I started to sober up fairly soon afterward, realizing how narrowly I missed being caught in something that would have probably brought down the wrath of some very angry pilgrims. After that, I kind of clammed up, went back to my group (I had wandered off when we went in), and we eventually left.
Still can't believe that there's only one statue. Goddamn.
tl;dr: I got drunk, went into the Vatican, and said "Fuck the Pope" where people should have but somehow didn't hear me.
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CASE AS IN 12 PACK. AS IN THE PREVIOUSLY STATED 36 BEERS. YOU MUST READ BEFORE YOU POST.
which is at that age where a cool breeze can give you a boner
and the nurse putting in was a decent looking girl in her 20's
when she came in to do it, even as sick as i was, i was like "oh god please don't get a boner, don't get a boner, don't get a boner"
and sure enough, when she pulled my gown up to put it in, kabam, lil chubby
i am mortified and i say "oh jeez i am sorry"
she just sighs and shrugs and is like "it's okay, it happens"
i'm like "so, what're you gon-"
and then she just cups my balls with her VERY COLD HANDS
stands there for a few seconds just saying nothing, blank face, freezing ice hands on my sack and waiting patiently for my boner to die
and so it dies
she puts the catheter in, makes sure it's okay and everything, and then leaves without any awkwardness on her part.
woman was a pro
Pluto was a planet and I'll never forget
more than that
it was her blank expression
and the fear that she was going to crush my nads or something
I guess you were found wanting.
th...th-thank god?
Imagine what she would be like in bed.
I mean jesus.
I'm not convinced he's had much to do with your life.
The funniest part of this is that she knew exactly what to do to kill an erection.
well i mean i figure it's hardly the first catheter she's put in and she was a pretty lady
so she probably gets that sort of thing
the way she sighed wasn't disgust per se, it was sort of just resignation
at least i had fresh young balls
i wonder if she pulls that trick with smelly dangly old man sack