The Jim Story.

I've got this friend named Jim……he is now referred to as Evil Jim.
Because he is now evil….

The night in question was a thursday the friday anteceding the thursday in
question would be jim's 25th birthday. jim was off work for that friday.
Jim, jim's roommate, jim's fiancee (now wife) and jim's friend carl went out
to celebrate. Carl had just driven up in his new car his new z98, black on
black, $13,000 cash, corvette engine, Camero with T-tops. The car was 15
days old, 1 more day than the dealer insurance. So they all go out it was a
dark and stormy night so they walked to the East End Grill, which is about
40 yards from jim's front door. They got there at about 9:30 p.m. and left
around midnight. the food was free and jim and carl were the only people
drinking. the bar tab was $195.41, i've seen the receipt.

There are over 15 instances of “Well Alcohol…. is only a $1.00”. At midnight they go back over to the apartment, Krista declares that they have no cigarettes and sends jim out to go get some. Jim takes carl with him they distictly do not walk to the Exxon 15 yards from his front door and get into the company van.

They peel out into the dark and stormy night. They go whipping around the
Winchester-Hickory hills area, taking 20mph turns at 70mph. The van is up on three wheels, two wheels, they swer it was up on one wheel at one point, but hey, they were drunk. The van does not flip, jim does not loosse control, they are impressed with themselves. They go back top the apt, about 25 minutes later get out, walk to Exxon, and buy some cigarettes and then walk back into the apartment. Carl sits down, takes off his shoes and socks, jum throws the cigarettes on the coffee table. Right next to carl's keys.

Jim bends down and scoops up the keys and is out the door. Carl jumps up, runs to the door, stops grabs the belt of m-60 machine gun ammo from the bookcase where it was laying (no, no one has any idea why it was there) and follows jim out into the rain. Carl gets down to his car and jumps into the passenger seat. He reaches over, turns the ignition off and takes out the keys. Jim turns to carl, holds his hands wide apart and says, “Carl, what did we just get done doing? Haven't I proven that I can handle myself? You know I won't do anything till I know exactly what your car can handle. Come on, Carl, gimmie the keys.” Carl drops the keys into jim's hand.

Jim fires up the car, and peels out into the night. They approach one of
their previously terrorized neighborhoods and Jim says, “OK, Carl, here is
wehre we'll see how it handles going around a corner.” Or, at least, thats
what the was going to say he got to “how it” doing about 70mph around a
30mph cornaer at 1 in the morning in the rain in a school zone. The car
started to spin. They hear a POP, a CRUNCH, a SNAP, and a CRACKLING sound.

Now each one of these sounds is distinct in it's meaning and must be
analyzed. POP= left rear tire exploding CRUNCH= rim shattering SNAP= rear axil breaking CRACKLING= rear fender/bumper disintegrating. They go
spinning, in the mud, across this guys front yard, across his driveway,
through a sapling, chipping a corner out of his garage (and front fender)
and come to a halt in a pool of sludge about a foot outside his bedroom
window.

The light comes on. Jim and Carl get out, Jim holds his arms wide
open, as if to emcompass the whole scene and says, “CARL, I am going to fix ALL of THIS! I am going to make it ALL BETTER!”. The front door opens out steps a 40-something year old black man in a pair of boxers and a
wife-beater, he looks around and says, “You boys oughta come inside.” They go in. He sits them down on the couch, hands them eac a cigarette, lights them, gives them each a glass of water, sets down a big tin of breathmints, and puts the phone between them, then hands Jim a phone book and says “The coffee is brewin', I'm sure ya'll take care of the whole situation.”

Jim starts calling tow truck companies and they all say the same thing “If there isn't a tire (connected to the car) touching pavement, we have to call the cops.” About 3am the roommate walks in another 40-something black guy he looks at the two crackers on the couch, turns around, walks back to his room and isn't seen again. Jim calls his boss, a pretty well-connected guy, who tells him that he's prolly going to end up having to call the cops.

About 4am, the black guy comes back in, gives them each another in the long line of cigarettes and says, “Look, ya'll seem like reasonable young white-folk, and I don't want the cops here any more than you do but my wife is gonna be home soon and she just got done dealing with shitheads for eight hours the last thing she wants to see is two drunk-ass white boys on her couch with their broken down car in her yard. Thats right, its the Bonnie Situation from Pulp Fiction. “When you went spinning past my house, did you see a sign that said dead Camaro storage? NO? Know why not, cuz storin' dead Camaros aint my business!”

Carl said that he was having to pinch himself to keep from laughing when the guy said that.

Soooooooo, Jim calls the tow truck guys and the cops a little while later
they've both arrived. Tow truck guy is looking at what is left of Carl's car
and laughing and there are two copsthere, a taller, older cop who is talking to the tow truck guy and a short, younger cop who is interrogating Jim (with Carl standing next to him). The cop is like question..answer..QUESTION..answer…QUESTION!!! constantly getting louder and angrier and at some point Carl decides to interject. The cop turns on him and shouts, “Don't you say a fucking thing, theres one thing I hate it's a liar, and I don't thing he (pointing at Jim) was even driving, I think YOU were! So you just shut the hell up!” He then says “AND! if theres one thing I hate more than a liar its a drunk! And I KNOW you boys were drunk, and if we'd been called two hours ago when this happened you'd be in a van going down to 201, but we weren't and you're probably going to get away with it! SO get outta my face and go back inside!!!”

So they go scurry back inside and sit down, not much left in the way of mental reserves about 10 minutes later the older cop calls them back outside. The tow truck guy has Carl's car loaded up, the older cop asks Him to sign his ticket, he then gives Jim a copy (I have personally seen the ticket). 65mph in a 35mph zone, failure to maintain proper control, NOTHING ELSE! The younger cop then says, “And whats the deal with the belt of ammo in the car?” (within a 100 yards of a school, and therefore a felony) Carl turns stark white and says: “I have no idea, I picked it up on the way out the door, totally random, meant nothing, sorry.” The cop nods, grunts to himself, and goes back to the squad car.

The tow truck guys comes over he says he's going to take it to GWatney, cuz that
is the best place for this sort of major repair work on a Camaro. Jim says,
“Great, can you drop us off by there, its on the way to my apartment.”
Thirty minutes later, they pull into the Exxon parking lot where Jim should
have just gotten the damned cigarettes 5 hours earlier.

Jim and Carl get
out, thinking to himself, “Oh YEAH, my CDs!”, Jim came out with the CDs, AND the pipe, AND the bag of weed, AND the loaded, chambered, unregistered .25 caliber pistol. So I assume, about this time, across town, in the squad car cop A turns to cop B and says, “What else did you find when you searched the car?” and cop B says “When I searched the car?!?!”

Total damages to house and yard= $1100
Total damages to Camaro= $11000

This story has been ritually told at just about every party I have attended.
Although text does not quite portray this story as well as it should, I
think you get the picture. All movie rights for this movie have been
reserved, although we will take offers.

The Strip Club Update

*foreward*
The whole time i’ve writing this hilarious night i’ve really pondered if this should actually go up. I think censorship is one of the worst things, next to SUV’s, that this world has been plagued with. Self censorship is the worst version of censorship because you can actually take steps to avoid it.

I wanted to accurately portray this evening because quite honestly, it’s pretty fucked up. I want to be able to read this post years from now, when i’m laying in my hospital bed, tubes all up in my shit, looking really pathetic and dying. I’ll reach over to my laptop, read this fucked up update and watch my artificial liver machine start to smoke.

After last night’s update, you can tell i was hungover when i woke this morning. Not the “I need some water and some asprin” hangover. More like a “My body is not accepting food anymore” kind of hangover. I eat part of a $5 steak at Neils and a sandwich trying desparetely to force protein into my body. I really don’t want to drink.

We pick Ken up, we pick a bottle of vodka up and we roll into Platinum. Carded at the door, big surprise, i buy a beer. Beer is okay, beer won’t get me drunk, i’m only getting one.

I walk in and smile. A smoke filled room with numerous, half naked, fully naked, almost naked, beautiful girls. It’s like F:pr0n came to life. We sit down, my beer is emptied, and i suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder. I’m enjoying the show on stage when i suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn and see a smiling face next to me. My mind scans, i don’t recognize her and i’m terribly confused.

Stripper: Hi.*smiling*
Toad: Hello!
Stripper: How’s a lapdance sound?
Toad: Umm, not yet, havn’t even had my first drink.

It all makes sense now.

A gaggle of strippers soon arrive and at one point we all had one sitting on our laps drinking our vodka. This is because Ken, who is apparently a god in this place since he was a bouncer there many years ago. Ken describes himself as a stripper groupie. I wish i could have snuck my camera in cuz i’d really like to have a picture of him. Imagine Kid Rock, but with more piercings, more tattoos and doesn’t suck.

Lapdance #1
Well, after being there about a hour and telling 3 girls that i didn’t want a lapdance, Ian and Ken purchase one for me. This girl in a chain mail shirt that had been drinking with us, stands up, takes this leather belt and cracks it. She points at me, says “Follow me now, bitch”. I follow her to the “VIP Room” a poorly lit room full of couches and other strippers giving other guys dances. I sit down and the games begin.

I walk out with her probably 2 songs later with a huge grin on my face. I sit down at our table, pour a stiff drink and thank Ian and Ken for my first lapdance. I decided at that point that i can never return to this place again. So I better spend a lot of money and really enjoy myself because this is it. I go to the ATM.

Lapdance #2
After a stop at the ATM, i couldn’t resist this next girl. Beautiful blonde, dressed in this strange black bathing suit kinda thing. She asks me if i would like a dance. I look her up and down, smile and say “Yes, yes i would”. Back to the VIP room. We sit and talk for a few minutes, she tells me she’s really into computers too, i pretend like i care and then leave 2 songs later i’m back at the table drinking.

It was around 1am, poor little owned Chad leaves and the vodka starts to really own me. I also noticed a change in the strippers as the night wore on. Strippers, like a lot of people *cough*webdesigners*cough* drink a lot and tend to say more fucked up shit as the night goes on.

Lapdance #3
I’m casually drinking, watching yet another beautiful girl dance around naked on stage when this crazy looking blonde girl with pigtails. She walks up to me, whispers how many genital piercings she has and then asks if i’d like to see them. Fuck yeah i do.

Lapdance #4
Well, i was convinced into getting one last dance from this beautiful girl that had been sitting with us all night. I walk to the bathroom and get intercepted. This beautiful, probably 6’7 black girl starts talking to me at the bar. After whispering a bunch of shit about chocolate cupcakes, chocolate pudding and other chocolate based food, lapdance #4 starts.

Since I was just going to the bathroom Ian and Ken start to wondering what the fuck happened to me. Ken asks the bouncers if they killed out a dirty looking short guy. They finally see me walking out with her and they’re all like “OH FUCK! ONYX GOT A HOLD OF HIM!” I sit down and their like “dude did she hurt you?” and i’m like “fuck yeah she did!” I swear to god, i’m going to name my first daughter after her.

After Onyx, none of the other girls were really that cute and it was getting late. Then Ian taps me on the shoulder and points to this girl on stage. I look and i see these weird red blotches in her….umm….holy area. We all recoil in horror at the black plague that has infected this poor girl and we’re all reminded where we are.

The night isn’t over.

Ian and i sit in the car and wait for Ken to finish finding out where his stripper friends were going after work, hehe. We watch a cocktail waitress and a smiling black man get into what looked like her car. Then her head seems to disappear into his lap. I guess she dropped something cuz she was down there for a while. Ian and I start laughing hysterically since this is happening about 5 yards from where we’re parked. She looks up, looks embarassed, starts her car, and drives across the street to finish the deed.

I looked over to Ian and said “I hope their using condoms” and Ian says “I don’t think they are.” They probably weren’t.

Ian and Ken drop me off, i go inside, finish my $5 Neils steak in silence after the hottest, most cleansing shower i’ve ever taken. The moral of last night is that strip clubs, just like hard drugs, should be experimented in extreme amounts and then never again.

So Onyx, even tho i promised you i would return, i must say goodbye.

JUST LIKE A PRAYER! YOUR VOICE CAN TAKE ME THERE!

Well, i woke up at 4pm today. Naked in bed, boots, clothes and wallet on the floor. Cellphone in the ashtray next to my bed. Still drunk. I rolled over and Marla is laying next to me and i suddenly start laughing as i remember what happened last night.

It all started at Cafe Espresso and Tindal And Tonics. Still fighting the hangover from Saturday night, i eat half a sandwich and start drinking. I talk with Tindal and another bar patron about drugs, cars, womn and Sopranos. After covering the normal bar conversations, we all go our seperate ways.

I come home, feed the dog, talk on aim for a second and decide to go to Old School Sunday to visit Ian and maybe hook up some free drinks…I get there, walk through security and Holly tells Ian that she’s taking me out drinking. Now i’m already pretty drunk but it seems like it’s just beginning. We go to Wet Willies and to my surprise, they’re doing karoke. Holly orders us drinks, 2 of these weird red drinks called “Call A Cab”….i later find out the main ingredient is PGA. Owned.

Holly goes up and gets me to do the last karoke song of the night. Take one big guess what i pick. I’m dancing and jumping up and down, screaming into the microphone, rolling on the floor at one point and the place starts to empty out.

We head to Alferds yet and i think i have a beer. It all starts getting really really blurry at this point. After a while we head back to Old School Sunday and Holly slips and falls on the wood floor. Everyone looks at me like i pushed her and i yell “I havn’t hit no white women today!” This gets the attention of just about everyone in Hardrock. I go over and start talking to Ian and he tells me to go push this friend of his, a very very large black guy. I go up and push him laughing and he picks me up and starts spinning me around. At this point everyone in the whole bar is laughing and i decide that getting spun around after bunch of gin, vodka and PGA is probably bad.

I yell to everyone that i’m heading back to Midtown where gay people are accepted.

Public Intoxication at El Porton

It was a beautiful day but after a while we noticed we were the only people sitting on the porch anymore. Our table's loud screaming, blatant disregard to the rest of the people around us, soon got us a visit from the waitress. She said the table next to us wanted them to call the cops. The waitress said she told her she couldn't call the cops just because we were loud.

The picture of the guy holding the pepper to his head had been in jail for the past 4 days and we were making fun of him cuz he got pepper sprayed before they threw him in the squad car.

51% of the earth’s population is female

Come on, just one chick. I don’t care what country she lives in, just one sweet little bisexual exhibitionist.

I spend my life at computers, constantly connected to aim. Yet i only have a handful of girls, most of which are happily dating their boyfriends and can’t post nude pics of themselves, visit me for sex, etc, etc…..

51% is a lot. There are more them then us. Just not at 2:48am….guess it’s time to retire to my sleeping quarters with my laptop and my wireless internet connection and my blood alcohol level above fractions…..goodnight cruel world, it’s over….walk on by…

Fridaaaaaaaaaaaaaay#$@#%$@#@#$@

I sit calmly in silence, only the sound of the keyboard clicking away my sober emotions as i wait. Waiting with cat like alertness for the first opportunity to start the ball rolling down that great big hill of drunkeness.

Hi, my name is toad, and i’m a alcoholic.

I really like pot a lot too.

And Warcraft.

I got my AA speech all planned out. Just waiting to hit rock bottom before i give myself up to Jesus Christ to be saved…or something….

Anyway, enough that. Last night in a drunken stupor, laying on the couch with the laptop, having yet another drunken conversation about my trip to Amsterdam which is approaching very soon. As soon as the lease is signed and the stuff is moved in, the ticket will be purchased a month in advance. I’m going to give myself enough money to live like a god for a week.

Only problem is going to Amsterdam for a week by yourself could be pretty dangerous. Especially when your planning on stumbling around in a drug induced rage for almost a week. I’m going to get lonely.

Luckily, Amsterdam has plenty of rosey cheeked women that i can purchase for company. From what i’ve read, women can be bought for $20-$30 american dollars. But with haircuts, apartments and prostitutes, you get what you pay for.

So my plan is to save up a decent amount of money and actually get a real escort for 3-4 days. She can show me around, showing me the sights of Amsterdam and also provide entertainment in other…activities…..

The pictures will be the best part tho. I’ll get off the plane, ride home, upload the 2 disks of pics to crackhore and watch the games begin.

“Here is me and Natasha at the art muesuem, look how dilated my pupils look!”

“Here is me and Natasha having coffee at this shop near my hotel. Yeah! Look at the size of that joint!”

Then when I leave she’ll ride with me to the airport, we’ll hug, exchange email addresses and aim names say our bitter goodbyes….

The truth is in between the 1st and 40th drink….

It’s been a pretty good day. Took mom to airport for her flight to Ohio for her highschool reunion. On the way she told me a pretty funny story. The whole time i was listening i kept thinking “this is going on the site”.

Okay, so last night my dad comes home from a hard day at work and makes himself a sloppy joe. Fathertoad, unlike me, likes really realy spicey food so he decides to try out this new hot sauce that their neighber gave to them.

He soakes his sandwich in it, eats the sandwiches then starts to feel kinda weird. My mom came home to find my dad laying on the living room floor dripping in sweat. He said his heart was racing and couldn’t get the burning taste in his mouth to go away. He tried drinking a lot of water and still couldn’t stop the burning and lower his temperature.

My mom looks on the container for the hot sauce and sees ONLY PUT ONE DROP! VERY HOT! She calls the neighber to ask for her advice to kill hotsauce “overdose” and she says to drink milk or sugar and that should help.

MotherToad then calls Poison Control to ask their advice. They laugh at her and then tell her to try ice cream if she doesn’t have any milk. They recommended that she take him to the emergency room if his heart rate doesn’t drop.

So he eats some ice cream and lays down on the couch and Poison Control calls back to ask how he is. My mom laughs, says he’s about to fall asleep on the couch and is fine…..i think my mom told it better, guess it also helps to know my dad….a pic would even make this update greater….blah