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Lewd Jokes And O-E memories before/after Quickie today. Yeeeah, ba-by, yeah. I promise. Okay, went out with the guys last night, and I found out that Woody was moving out. Flirted with some girls. Nothing big. Good time had by all. Early night. Did have a good moment. Left the table to go wee-wee.(I just like saying 'wee-wee' sometimes. Wee-wee. There, done.) And that's it. That's the story. j/k And when I came back to the table, things were still a little awkward. Little uptight. As I'm sitting down, I say with my usual bravado,"Hey, What's going on?" So Johnnie turns and puts me on the spot,"Nothing, man, we were just waiting for you." So like flipping a switch, i'm ON. I start telling a raft of jokes. Start off simple, a little naughty, and then dove into the bottom of the barrel. Pedophile jokes. Hey, I have to amuse myself somehow. Started with: Why do girls have a speed limit of 68 in bed? -because when they hit sixty nine, they blow a rod To: What did Kermit the Frog say at Jim Henson's funeral? -nothing. (Which they didn't get...hmmm. Not too bright, these girls.) To: What's cold and wants to hold your hand? -John Lennon And that got everyone going. Conversation flowed. I thrive when put 'on the spot'. Then I got into the sick ones: What do you call a hill-billy with two sheep, one under each arm? -pimp To: What's balck and white and black and white? -preist and a nun screwing To: What's a hill-billy chic say after sex? -"Don't crush my smokes when you get up, dad." Which really aren't that bad. Thing is, after spending a little time working with at-risk kids as a group leader(group therapist/treatment director), I can read people like books. One of the girls had been molested. Could tell by her reaction when the pedophile jokes started flying. (Told Kris-and this is sick- What's the best part about having sex with a six year old?...their hands make your cock look so big. She overheard.) Head straight down. The other was catholic. Could tell by her reaction to the 'priest and a nun' joke. Asked and received confirmation of the catholicism. What can I say? I'm good. People. Try so hard to hold onto your secrets when everyone knows. The trick is to be comfortable with them, and who you are. Then no one will know anything. Like this needs to be said. Wrote a letter to this girl who has a truly humorous diary today. Something triggered a 'forty ouncer of O-E' memory. Maybe it was a '64 ouncer of O-E' memory. I don't think the quantity of the malt liquor is important. Since this memory tickles my sense of humor, I will share it now. (With apologies to 'drunkgirl' I wasn't just writing the O-E story for her. (http:www.drunkgirl.diaryland.com(these are the best posts) And:http://drunkgirl.diary-x.com/journal.cgi?entry=200012020823 -the posts about the cat killed me. Doesn't anyone have a conscience anymore? How do you steal someone else's cat? Damn.-) Ah, O-E, its been years since I drank it. Probably won't ever again. Grim memories. I had a roomate in college, Marcus, who loved that stuff. Reminds me of a story...he had a friend, Matt, who was going into the army the next day, so we had a little blowout for him. He also had tourettes syndrome. I did not know this. I sat next to him on the couch with a head full of pot and lsd, trying to play 'Sonic the Hedgehog'. And the more O-E this guy drank, the worse his symptoms became. He twitched. He hissed. He called Marcus racial epithets, while I'm trying to play 'Sonic the Hedgehog' with a head full of pot and lsd. Meanwhile, the lsd starts to climb on top of me, while Matt's hissing, spitting, cursing, and twitching, and I'm of a passive mentality just then, trying desperately to pretend evrythings cool, thinking things like,"JE-sus. Did I really SEE that? Maintain...that didn't happen." And Marcus, who's earnestly trying to finish a jug of O-E, slurs, "Man,I told you about that n----- shit,"...in a low key sort of way. To top it off, Matt (whom I haven't spoken to since) was simply a sloppy, angry drunk. Which was very difficult to disseminate from the hisses, twitches, hoots, and cursing. And he starts to hang on me, with all these add-on behaviors, and I can't really make out exactly what he's trying to communicate. And this makes me laugh. Loudly. And feel a certain amount of frustration. "What? What the fuck are you trying to say?" Hiss. Twitch. Garbled speech. "Dammit, man. Make sense!" Hiss. Spit. Twitch. Angry mumble. "Fuck!" The whole situation freaked me right out. I try to be sensitive, and tolerant, but sometimes the world just bites me in the ass. So I bolted to a friends' room. Marcus came after and explained everything. We went out later to a couple of parties, and ended up in an arcade that I got threw out of for bad behavior. Matt ended up sleeping in a parking ramp,for some reason. And that was the end of O-E for me. From then until today. That and I have better taste than that. O-E blows. Hmmm. Guess it wasn't a quickie after all.
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