Sunday, January 29, 2006

Two Tons Of Fun

I know you've missed me. Even I missed me. I've been sick, but now I'm back to fascinate you with the tales of my bravery, stupidity and dare-devil tactics.

Step in to the way back machine. Sit down, shut-up and hang on real tight. We're going on a ride. I call this ride the fat girl follies.

I'm a fairly large guy myself, so don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with being over weight. There's just something wrong with humping a fat chick. I don't mean fat when I say fat. I mean 5'3" and weighing in around 450. I mentioned this ride once before. Now for the gory details.

It was a Saturday night (it could have been any night because I was at the bar almost every night) at The Armadillo Run. I was drunk, really really drunk (that's my story and I'm sticking to it) and the ladies were lined up to ask me to dance with them (I AM one of the best). Suddenly my view of the rest of the bar was blocked my a pretty face (you thought I was gonna say fat chick) attached to a fat chick. The girl was pretty, in fact her sister was a model for Vogue magazine. I had known her for quite some time. I had even cut a rug with her a few times. Well, she was on the hunt this night, and I was they prey. She monopolized me on the dance floor and bought me a bunch of booze, so come closing time I was even drunker than really really drunk.

I forgot to give her a name. Let's call her Tessie. Tessie somehow manages to get me into the parking lot and I somehow manage to get her into my car. This was no easy feat. It should have been, but it wasn't. I drove a 1973 Cadillac Coup de Ville, one of the biggest cars ever built. I couldn't get her into the back seat. The front seat wouldn't lean far enough forward. We were drunk, she was horny and I was enterprising. I leaned the front seas back as far as they would go, now they were shaped like a giant "V", I laid her down in the "V" and somehow managed to remove the biggest pair of underwear I ever seen in my life. I climbed into the car and pulled the door shut behind me. Back in those days I was fairly fit and could bend in a few different directions.

Now I have my left knee on the steering wheel, my right foot is pressed against the arm rest on the door and I have her right leg (which is about the size of a side of beef) thrown over my left shoulder. I have on hand on the head rest and the other in the air (I planned on staying on for the full 8 seconds) and I am attempting to do as much damage as I can with my pathetic little dick. I still wonder to this day if I ever really got it in. Whether I did or not, she fed my ego.

So all is said and done and we're attempting to get redressed, Tessie forgot to put her drawers back on (I'm not the only one that was drunk) so I stretched them over the back of the front seat with the head rest poking through the leg holes (instant seat cover). I had to drive her home so off we went. I know friends don't let friends drive drunk, but my friends abandoned me when they saw me banging Tessie. I wasn't real worried because it was a small town, late at night and not enough cops to patrol the back streets. Somehow I managed to get pulled over.

The cop walked up to my car and shined his light right in my face. He knew me and I knew him. In fact we partied together from time to time.

Cop: "You been drinking tonight Trash?"
Trashman: "I had two beers."
Cop (leaning in the car): "What about you miss?"

This is where he gets a good look at her and then sees her underwear stretched across the front seat.

Cop: "What the fuck is that, Trash?"
Trashman: "Oh those? Her underwear."
Cop (visibly shaken): "I'm going to follow you. Take her home, then go home yourself. If you don't do exactly as I say, I will arrest you for DWI."
Trashman: "OK."

I took Tessie to her house and by the time we got there I was starting to sober up. She was snuggled up to me. As we pulled into her drive way she looks into my eyes.

Tessie: "Let's go inside and do it again."
Trashman: "I wish I could, but I have the get home or I'm going to be arrested."
Tessie "Oh yeah. Maybe we can get together later this week."
Trashman: "Uh yeah maybe."

I let her out of the car and headed home. I couldn't wait to get there. I needed a shower. When I got home I got out of my car and walked back to the cop car.

Trashman: "Thanks man. I owe you one."
Cop: "You don't owe me anything. I just wished I could have got to you sooner."
Trashman: "Don't tell nobody."
Cop: "Fuck that. I'm telling everybody."
Trashman: "Yeah I guess. I know I would."
Cop: "Don't forget to take those nasty drawers off you car seat. That car doesn't deserve that."
Trashman: "Good night."
Cop: "Too late for it to be a good night. You already fucked a fat chick. HAHAHA"

Note: If I offended anyone, GET OVER IT. You're just going to be at the top of the list for offended folks this week. I'm just getting started.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Swing Low Sweet Chariot

I am writing this from my death bed. I have moments of clarity. I'm not sure if this is one of them.

Remember when I sad the big gas companies were going to kill me with a disease genetically altered to attack my DNA? Well it's happening. My boys are being slightly affected because; well because they're damn near clones. I'm dying a slow painful death. Jen is healthy.

I need some stuffy head, scratchy throat, almost puking, gave birth to a 10lb baby turd, eyes are failing, can't hear to well, think I'm seeing shit, skin is hot, bones are cold, ache all over, no appetite, hungry as hell, get me something to drink, I'm coming home Jesus, I want my mommy cause I'm a big whiney baby medicine.

The following are my side of the conversations today. I'm not sure what Jen said cause I wasn't paying attention. I think I was whining.
"JEN, I ache all over. My bones are cold."
"No I don't wanna take a hot shower. I'm burning up."
"No food. The smell is making me nauseous."
"Where's my soup?"
"Do we have crackers?"
"Well go to the store. I'm gonna take a hot shower. I'm freezing."
"Are you still here? WHHHHHHHHY?"
"I was talking to my granny in the shower."
"I know she's been dead for 15 years."
"She WAS there."
"Would you give me some orange juice?"
"This is not what I asked for I wanted Pineapple Orange. I may have said Orange but you know I don't like straight Orange."
"Fuck it, can I have some Sprite instead?"
"I don't caaarrrrreee what the doctor said. I want Sprite."
"Why did you give me Sprite? The doctor says no soda, besides I'm freezing. Can I have hot tea?"
"Where's my soup?"
"I don't want it now, you took to long. I'm nauseous."
"Tuck the blanket around my feet. I'm cold."
"Are you trying to kill me?"
"Then why did you turn the blanket up to high?"
"It is turned on. Oh look, there's my dog from when I was a kid."
"Well he must be a zombie dog, cause he's sitting in the corner fucking waving at me."
"Call Dr. Kevorkian. Make me an appointment."
"But I aaaaammmmm dying."
"You don't love me."
"I thought you were making me soup."
"I want at least one last meal."
"I take care of you when you're sick."
"Get a hammer and kill me now."
"You're in cahoots with the gas companies."
"Jack will investigate."
"You're going to prison."
"What if Jack works for the gas companies?"
"You're all out to get me."
"Bring me my laptop. I'm leaving a record of your abuse."

There you have it. That's what I remember. The Grim Reaper is knocking at the door and I'm thinking about letting him in. If somehow my Super Idiot powers manage to ward of the sickness, I'll be back. But then again I'm looking out the window and it looks like the Reaper brought hookers. Could be party time.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Reinforced Soap Box

I didn't start this. Jack did. All with the word Columbine. It's something I've wanted to write about for a long time but it was old news. Now Jack made it new again.

First off let me say I couldn't agree with Jack more. The fuckers needed to be put down, much like you would do to an egg sucking dog on a chicken farm. Thin the herd, if you will. Some people just need killing. Line 'em up and shoot 'em down. If y'all haven't figured it out yet I'm a firm believer in the death penalty. In fact I believe, not only should we execute murders but anybody else I feel like killing on any particular day. But that's not what this post is about. Nope. It's about the children.

I'll start with why this hits close to home. Trash Jr has SAC (special assignment center) all next week. Due to the fact that he decided to handle things himself. Seems some cock faced little fuck has been tormenting him all year. Making fun of his weight. Trash Jr is a big kid, at the age of 11 he is already 5'5". He's bigger than all the other kids in his age group. He was genetically designed to play pro football. Well all year CFLF has been making comments about Trash Jrs weight. TJ had enough and shut him up. CFLF went to the coach and cried that TJ was "bullying" him. Next thing I know I'm getting a call from the assistant principal. She informed me of TJs punishment but she wont tell me what's going on with CFLF. Something about privacy and other bullshit. Well if this CFLF is fucking with my kid how is it not my business?

Back to Columbine. The group of kids that shot the place up were not normal kids. Normal kids don't go around killing classmates. I'm not making excuses for them, but lets put on our little thinking hats for a minute here and see the big picture. These kids did what they did because they were fucked with on a daily basis. They were picked on, pushed around, called names, ridiculed, made fun of and just generally tormented. Until they snapped. And then all they were called was killers. I know there are those out there that say it all begins at home. Bullshit. What if your kids don't tell you it's going on?

I teach my kids right from wrong, I'm not saying I'm the perfect parent (shut up Jack). But I do know right from wrong and so do my kids. And the Columbine kids probably did too. But there is only so much that some people can take. They don't all have my Super Powers. Remember the big"I" on my chest?

Kids torment each other, it's just what they do. When I was a kid the tormenting lead to fights. The tormented usually beat the shit out of the tormenter. No more tormenting. Oh and no one brought a gun to school, because they couldn't take it anymore. But in this day and age when the liberals are in control of our schools, we have what's known as "Let's talk about it and have a group hug. Now cock faced little fuck don't say mean things to Trash Jr. anymore. Now don't we all feel better?" This doesn't work. TJ went through this in the third grade. He went to the teacher just like they brain washed him to do. The faculty spoke with the other child. The torment continued until I pulled my kids out of the school and put them in a private school. All TJ learned was you do what they say and you still get shit on.

Now he's in the sixth grade. He has endured this for 6 months. Not anymore. He never told Jen and I that he was having any problems. He came home every day his same normal maladjusted self. I'll be at the school Tuesady raising hell. Supporting my boy. Because he did what was right. Luckily he didn't wait until he wanted to kill the little cock licker.

You see this shit in the news all the time. Columbine, that other school, kids planning mass murder, fat depressed kid blowing his own fat fucking head off because he couldn't take it anymore. I'm not defending their actions but I understand their actions. So does my son. Talking about it doesn't do much. You become labeled a snitch, a rat, a pussy. The tormenting gets worse. Next thing you know some kid shows up at school with an AK-47 and levels the playing field. Then he gets shot either by the cops or he turns the gun on his self. Either way it's another dead kid. I blame the liberals because all they wanted to do was "talk" about it. Some things require less talk more action. Today TJ acted and I don't fucking blame him. If it would've been me the cock faced little fuck would have left on a stretcher. He should consider himself lucky.

I say charge the school administrators (what's left of them) with murder the next time some kid flakes out and kills his classmates. Because they just talked about it, he had to take action.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Here I Am To Save The Day

Sometimes I think about the days before Jen and the hell raisers. Don't get me wrong I wouldn't trade them for nothing (a million dollars and a boat however would seal the deal). Jen probably saved me from myself but there are still times that I miss my freedom. The freedom of just going. The freedom of doing stupid shit without having to consider the effects of my bad behavior on others. The freedom of not having to worry about tomorrow. If I weren't so sure that I was still in my first childhood, I would swear I was entering my second.

Jen is doing her best to keep me alive. I'm not making it easy for her. I tend to push her to the point where she wants to kill me. She's been doing a lot of research on my diabetes, cooking all the right foods and such. But in my true fashion I am bound and dertermined to kill myself. It's like being back in Florida.

I lived in Florida for a while many years ago. While I was there I bought some scuba equipment. The guy I bought it from wouldn't tell me how to assemble the stuff because I wasn't certified. I took the shit home and figured it out. I could inhale and exhale through the shit. Good enough for me. I went scuba diving. I'm lucky I survived. When I went to get the tanks refilled (they wouldn't do it because I wasn't certified) The guy told me about all the things that could happen to me. I sold him the equipment, cheap.

The next stupid thing I did was, swim with the manatees. I was headed for the beach and saw a bunch of hippie types grooving on the experience of watching the manatees head inland. I had heard that you could swim with them as long as you didn't approach them. Just get in the water and let them come to you. What I didn't understand was why all the nature loving hippies were just standing there. Why weren't they in the water? I dove in. I'll admit it was thrilling. The manatees wasted no time coming to check me out, and the hippies seemed pretty excited about it to, as much yelling as they were doing. I'm lucky I survived. When I got back to shore I was informed by one of the locals that I was swimming in the Anclote River not a salt water canal. In other words, full of gators. Seems a few years before some hippie jumped in with the manatees and the gators used his bones to pick their teeth. Guess it's a good think they don't have a taste for assholes.

Now for the SUPER STUPID. Before I tell this story I just want to say don't try this at home, I managed to survive because I am a professional idiot.

One day my partner in crime (Chuck) and I decided to take the boat out to Anclote Island. This was way before all the repair work that has been done to the light house and island itself. The island is only 3 miles out so it's not really any great feat to get out there. Sometimes coming back can be a real bitch depending on how dark it is and the tide. We always used the lights from a nearby nuclear power plant to find our way home at night.

This time out was a beautiful day. It was me, Chuck, his wife and kids. We spent the day swimming around and fishing. It was getting to be late afternoon and we figured we better pack up and head home. Just as we got everything loaded and headed for the main land the wind picked up. It was slow going because this wind was coming from the north east and holding us back. We could see a storm coming from inland headed right at us. It was nasty. The first thing that disappeared was the power plant and then the marker buoys. Chuck asked my opinion, and I screamed head for the island. I figured it's been there a long time, it has an old light house, if we had to we could hole up there and hopefully not drown.

We never made the light house. The storm caught us just before we made it back to the island and the tiny ship was tossed. Repeatedly. The boat was lifted by the waves and then they would just disappear, at which point the boat would slam against the gulf floor. Chucks wife was crying, his kids were screaming and he was freaking the fuck out trying to secure the cover on the boat so his wife wouldn't mess up her hair. We were about 20 yards from the island, I knew if we made it to actual land we stood a chance. If we didn't, the boat was going to get smashed against the gulf floor and we would all probably drown. So I put on my cape and became Super Idiot.

I grabbed the rinky dink little anchor and the next time the waves dropped us I jumped out of the boat and ran for the island. I could see the waves coming at me through peripheral vision (it's a gift) and I dove onto the ground, stuck the anchor in and held my breath. Now I'm under water, but not for long. The waves just disappeared again. I jump up and run some more, dive, stab, inhale, hold onto my nuts and the anchor, hold my breath and wait. Waves come in, waves go out. Repeat and rinse. After four or five times I was finally on what should have been dry land, but it's raining like a bitch. Now every time the waves lift the boat, I pull it closer (19ft boat, small by boat standards), and reset the anchor. Everythings going to be alright now. I'm on land, just a little (lot) bit of wind and rain to deal with. The boat is still being smashed against the ground but they're close enough to land and they're all hanging on. Super Idiot is going to save the day. Then I see the wave of all waves. It must have been 100 ft (exaggeration) tall. I'm not sure how big it was, but it was fucking huge. It picked up the boat and threw it at me, I turned, ducked and grabbed the anchor. The water enveloped me and twisted me around pushing me inland, then it did what all waves do. It headed back out to sea. I was twisted again and pulled me towards the gulf. Davy Jones had me by the ankles and was pulling as hard as he could but I wasn't letting go. I won.

Just like that the storm was over. Rain was gone. Wind was gone. Waves were gone. So was the boat. The water was clear again and you could see blue paint on the gulf floor where the boat had slammed down. I stood there looking out at sea and I couldn't see the boat. Then I heard Chuck behind me.

Chuck: "Hey asshole. How are we going to get this boat back in the water?"

I turned around and there stood Chuck, his wife and kids and the fucking boat. They were about 20 feet inland. It wasn't even on the beach. Seems the last wave had carried the boat right over me and set it down. I guess Mother Nature decided if she couldn't drown me and I wanted that boat on land, then it was going to be on land.

After about three hours of pushing, pulling, crying, and pleading, we finally go the boat back in the water. It was a lot heavier on land than it was in the water. Funny how that works. We finally get back to the marina and head home. We were walking to the house and Chucks wife and kids are complaining non-stop.

Trashman: "I don't know what y'all are bitching about. I had to pull that piece of shit in two different directions."
Chucks Wife: "If it weren't for you we wouldn't have had to pull it at all."
Trashman: "If it weren't for me, the coast guard would probably be fishing your dead bodys out of the water."
Chucks Wife: "Oh aren't you the hero."
Trashman: "Get it right. I'm a fucking SUPER Hero."
Chuck: "Look in the water, it's a sub. No it's a torpedo. Could it be a fish? No. It's Super Idiot."
Trashman: "Fuck you Chuck. Next time drown."
Chuck: "I heard about a boat wreck about five miles out. You wanna go snorkeling tomorrow?"
Trashman: "You know Super Idiots Motto."
Chuck: "What's that?"
Trashman: "If it's dangerous and stupid, count me in."