Me and my college roommate used to host a poker game on Friday afternoons. We'd drink and get high and play cards all afternoon/evening, then head out to terrorize Evansville. Well, one day Randy surprised us all with a cake he'd baked, the perfect antidote to some serious munchies. As I recall, it was a marble cake, and when he set it on the table, I just grabbed two giant handfuls of cake and started stuffing my face. After a few moments, I surveyed the room--to a man, they were all viewing me with supreme disgust. "Fuck you, Brett," Randy said, "I baked a fucking cake for these guys and you gotta tear it up with your bare hands. Eat the whole fucking thing--we're going out and leaving your sloppy ass here." I slunk off to bed as they all left the apartment.

The next morning, I awoke with a juggernaut hangover. I stumbled into the kitchen, where Randy and his girlfriend Stephanie were eating pancakes. They were gracious enough to offer me some, and as I ate, they kept smiling at me. I figured I'd been forgiven and loosened up. "Man," I said, "I had a fucked up dream last night. I dreamt I was dancing on a table and people were pelting me with beercans and shit." Randy glanced at Steph. "You remember that?" he said. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked him. "Dude," he said, "we were almost out of the parking lot and your drunk ass came running out of the building in boxer shorts and flip flops, screaming 'Take meeee! Take meeee!' So we just stopped the car and opened the door." They then proceeded to drive to a party, where I danced in boxers and flip flops, unsuccessfully accosted virtually every woman there, and ended up climbing up on a pool table to dance while everyone at the party hurled whatever was handy at my gyrating body. For months afterwards, I'd be walking across campus and people would be pointing at me and leaning on trees, they were laughing so hard.

I.

I literally pissed myself laughing in sixth grade and spent the rest of the day hiking my pants up as far as they could go and stretching my T-shirt down to my knees in order to hide it.

II.

In my first week of teaching at a Christian private school in Korea my girlfriend and I – under impossibly traumatic personal circumstances that I will not go into – called in sick to work, citing “food poisoning.â€

I was part of an old favorite but one that never gets old...

A band I played with were asked to play a reception in Chicago for alumni that were from the collage we all went to. There was a nice 60-70 person turnout, new alums and old as well as faculty, etc. At the end of the set as the whole thing was winding down, a fairly large woman approached one of my band mates to say hi. I guess she was a class mate of his those many years ago and they had not seen each other since graduation. My band mate then acts very excited and congratulates her. We all look to see what the congrats are for and see her looking at him wondering herself. He (as if in slow motion in my memory) points to her belly and says, "You are pregnant, right?". It should have stopped there. But she has enough self respect to reply angerly, "No, I'm just fat." To this we all began to do that silent laughing/crying thing, totally uncontrollable as we each tried to focus on putting away our instruments. We each could not look at her, nor at each other or we would have totally lost it. I have never laughed/cried so much in my life. We drove home with headaches.

...

One time me and Joe Grissom went over to Gravy Dave's to snort a bunch of crank. Knowing I'd be up for at least a day or two and that I wouldn't be eating anytime soon, I wolfed down some microwave Swedish meatballs before leaving the house.

I picked up Joe and headed to Gravy Dave's. We did a few lines of speed, which was cut with Manatol, a brand of baby laxative. Soon we tired of yammering at one another in Gravy's cramped apartment, so we went out front to skate on the sidewalk.

I watched Gravy and Joe skate off a brick wall onto the pavement as my stomach began to gurgle and churn. Now, I've never been much a skateboarder, but they looked like they were having a great time, and I was wired as fuck, so I asked if I could try out Gravy's board. I traveled along the edge of the wall, and as I shot off of it and onto the sidewalk, I totally shit my pants.

Years later, Dave Pajo was being profiled by these Swedish journalists, all three of whom were totally gorgeous twenty-something women. He introduced me to them at Thunder over Louisville, and I immediately decided to fuck with them. "Y'all are from Sweden?" I shouted in their faces. "Well, let me tell you--y'all got THE BEST meatballs on earth." I proceeded to tell them the story of the Gravy Dave incident as their faces sunk in horror and Pajo almost pissed himself laughing. Welcome to Louisville, ladies...

LAD wrote:....Quite by instinct it seemed, I burst into the washroom, slammed the door, and buried my face in my arm, proceeding to invoke the sounds of furious, wet bowel movements with my lips and forearm (I suggest you try this right now while sitting at your computer).

I started to really get into it - as hopefully you are as you read, don’t be shy, even if you’re at work - only pausing to groan and splash water on the floor.

o h m y g o d.



Salut!

Faiz

3. Once again, when I was in college, I worked at a gas station that my family owned to help them out as they were new at this particular business. Anyway, this couple came in (a short "fly guy" in a velvet suit and his amazonian girlfriendin) and I was making polite small talk with them, cracking jokes and other dumb shit.

Anyway, after they leave, she returns and hands me two pills of commercial speed. Not having done speed before I thanked her and set them aside for later use.

Three weeks later, I drive down to southernesque Illinois to visit some old friends for the weekend. Just before I make it into town, I pop the two horsepills of commercial speed and roll into the party.

Quick, blurry night as I pounded the drinks down.

I recall maybe 2 things:

a) Scene:

Faiz is standing next to John and Kathy, talking loud and fast.

Faiz (to John): "JOHN! DID YOU SEE KATHY??? SHE IS SOOOO HOTT!!!!"

John: uhh....


b) I believe I had accosted someone by the lapels and was shouting my self-penned Christian Rap ("Hip Hope") at them, making them very uncomfortable.

Apparently John carried me home and I passed out on the couch.

I woke up the next morn, fresh as a daisy and John and his roommmates were staring at me incredulously, kinda poking fun.

Apparently, during the middle of the night, I vomited on both ends of the sofa and I guess earlier at the party had also vomited into a cup that I was holding while mid-conversation with someone. I do not know whom that person is, but I have to say:


Sorry2004.




Faiz

high school. slow dance. boner. need i say more?

kerble wrote:
Apparently, during the middle of the night, I vomited on both ends of the sofa and I guess earlier at the party had also vomited into a cup that I was holding while mid-conversation with someone. Faiz

Let the vomitus stories begin! It's the kakkapoopee thread!


A few months ago I visited a fellow Edmontonian who lives in Taichung (a city north of me). While dining on enchiladas and comically large mugs – really just personal pitchers – of beer in a faux Mexican restaurant my friend Jim said, and I quote, “I don’t mind Ben Affleck.â€

Note * Do Americans say 'couch?' Supposedly Canadians often say 'chesterfield,' but I have never personally heard this.