>Pants on Fire – Bounce, Baby..BOUNCE!

Posted: October 25, 2010 in stories of me, wtf

>Before I start today, don’t forget to go HERE and HERE and vote for my Boston Bruins Rules – if one wins, it gets to be an actual commercial!!

RAWR.

And now….

*********************


I am the worst liar on the face of the planet.

TRU DAT.

I’m so white.

Example #2: Lightning strikes and Romance Failure

(for episode #1, click here)

I was in high school and was dating this whore who I stole from one of my friends because – HELLO SHE WAS A WHORE and pretty much every teenage boy needs only two things to survive:

1) A whorish girl
2) Tissues for when said whorish girl is unavailable


This girl in particular wasn’t a closet slut.

She was one of those flat-out neon-makeup leg warmers 15-bracelets gum-chewing mini-skirt wearing “OMG I think your vagina is hanging out” kind of semi-professional penis receptacle.

Have I mentioned she put out?


My mother, being the mother-of-an-only-child-DON’T-YOU-DARE-TAKE-MY-BABY-AWAY type of mother that she was did NOT approve of my slut for obvious reasons because NO ONE is good enough for her baby especially one who smells like the balls of the football team.

So I had to kind of hide the fact that I was going out with her.

Like this one time…

We went out one night and kind of went “parking” which is where you park your car in a secluded area of a street or parking lot – or, in this case, the town dump – and then proceed to touch things that make other things protrude or get wet or get wet and protrude or protrude and then shoot wet stuff and THANK GOD THESE SEATS ARE VINYL (easy clean up!).

Before I knew it, 5 hours had passed and it was, like, midnight and I realized that my curfew was 11.

Oops.


This was going to be a tough one to explain since I told my mom we were going to a movie at about 8 pm.

Um.

Well..it just so turned out that the town dump we were parked at was pretty much across the street from my house (Yay for white trash!) so I figured in my infinite teenage wisdom it would just be easier to show up AT MY HOUSE WITH HER and explain to my mother that I was going to take her home now instead of just taking her home and being extra late.

In my mind this made sense somehow.

This should not surprise you people.


So Madonna and I walked into the house together and sure as shit there’s my mom with DEATH STARE (are those..are those LASERS?) and she’s all WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?” and “What the Hell is THAT?” and I’m all like, “That’s (insert slut’s name here which probably rhymes with ‘prostitute’ but I can’t remember)”.

And then, in regards to the ‘Where the Hell have I been’ question…

I offer up this little gem (I swear to you this is the truth):

“Well. We went to the movies and we were sitting there and the movie just wouldn’t start and finally when it did we were halfway through it and then the THEATER WAS STRUCK BY LIGHTNING so they restarted the movie again and THEN when it was over they gave us passes to go back!”

*blink

“…and that’s why we’re so late.”


I look back at this chick who is now staring at me like WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!

Can’t blame her, really.

Mom: “OH. Really. Because I CALLED THE THEATER and asked them when the movie got out and funny but they said nothing about being struck by lightning.”

Me: “Oh.”


That’s when the girl decided to open her mouth (not the first time that night)…which turned out to be a not-so-good idea…

Whore: “Well..we were..”

It’s at this point that I should mention that my slut was positioned on the top of our basement stairs because right then my mother went YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH and shoved that bitch and wouldn’t you know it but my whore goes completely ass over teakettle DOWN THE FRIGGING STAIRS with limbs flailing and bracelets and scrunchies and condoms and diaphragms shooting out from all over the place and I’m all, like, “MOM?! You shoved my slut! What the Hell?”


And I’m kind of laughing like “Oh no you dint, mom!” because she really DID go flying and I was pretty surprised at my mom’s strength for such a tiny little woman which was kind of like the Hulk and so then the girl looks up at me from the bottom of the stairs and goes:

“Aren’t you going to DO something?”

Me: “Um. No. Not really.”

Like I want to suffer the same fate as you, girl.

It’s like you don’t even watch the Hulk…he throws ALL the bad guys so, you know, fuck that shit.

So I ran down the stairs, scooped up my vagina in heeled boots and took her home.

We never went out again.

Probably a good thing because to this very day I remain herpes-free.

No lie.

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