Tell us your best story. Your best day, the wildest thing you've seen, an event in your life.
I'm looking for the story that defines your life, the one you'd tell your grandkids around a campfire, the one you and your old friends re-tell half a box of beer into a night.
Tell us about the time you saw your dad kill a bear with his case knife, the day you won the lottery, the turd that was born with your child, the day your grandpa took you fishing.....good, bad, ugly. Your best story.
The only rule, it has to be true to the best of your memory. Go. [Reply]
Originally Posted by MOhillbilly:
Did he show you his camel clutch?
No but we did it on his camel hair carpet with sequined pillows out in the desert. It wasn't easy getting that long dress off of him though. When we were done I did a belly dance. [Reply]
When I was 19 and living in Urbana Illinois, once got jacked way up on zanax and hit the clubs with a buddy and an air force fireman from a nearby but now defunct AFB who was ****ing said buddies sister.
Things got crazy.
Somehow got separated from them in a totally different club lol.
Came to in an extremely opulent frat house with a baby grand piano in the main room.
black out.
Come to schmoozing with a group of people.
black out.
Come to in time to catch a lone girl cornered, on her knees, giving head to what must have been 30-40 guys, they were crowded around her... giggling, enjoying it, she wasn't forced at all as far as I can tell.
black out.
Vaguely remember putting on a full on gorilla suit, hair and everything... top, bottom, mask... the whole bit.
Black out.
Woke up in the hallway of said frat house in said monkey suit, sans mask, with my snakeskin cowboy boots missing... had to stumble down to a local pizzeria barefoot in like January, snow on the ground, and call my buddy for a ride home.
They looked at me like I was stone crazy walking in there hahahaaaaaaaaaa.
The biggest disappointment? the only regret? that some college chick didn't end up taking me home, swear to God that pissed me off for days on end. I was pretty damn good looking if I do say so myself back then, banged plenty of college girls in those days... but no one wanted me that night :-) [Reply]
I've got a story that usually wows a few people about a small town in Nebraska that's tried to kill me on three seperate events over the course of fifteen years.
Originally Posted by Gonzo:
I've got a story that usually wows a few people about a small town in Nebraska that's tried to kill me on three seperate events over the course of fifteen years.
I'll tell it some time.
This needs to be told... its time to let your burden go, G. [Reply]
In college, one night a bunch of us were sitting in a dorm room smoking pot and drinking beer, listening to heavy metal. One of my buddies had recently broke up with a girl on the same floor of the dorm (co-ed). He begins by stating how much of a bitch she is. That, of course, is followed by how much of a bitch the rest of the gals on the 7th floor of Tenochca hall at SDSU really are. In fact, it evolves into an entire drinking game based on the newly created 7th floor bitch scale, a 1 to 10 scale, where a 1 is pretty damned cool, and you might fuck a 10, just out of spite. We were already on shaky ground with most of the girls, as I orchestrated a threesome with two of them but denied it, and then two other guys and I managed to knock on all their doors, distract them, and then reverse the peep holes in their doors, allowing all the guys to go back later and "check up on them", allegedly of course.
Well, as luck has it, one of the guys on the floor is some sort of Radio Shack, electronics, stereo whiz. He advises us of his technical abilities, and we hatch our plan.
He will take the cover off of the speaker in one of our dorm rooms. He will remove the speaker, re wire some shit, and add a microphone. We will then broadcast a full episode of the "bitches of the 7th floor", complete with ratings and background music, Iron Maiden to be exact.
Although we were skeptical that he could pull this amazing feat off, we set a date. We even sent little notes under the doors of the gals on the 7th floor. We sneak a keg into the dorm in a "portable closet" that was supposed to be a gift from a parent. We order a shit ton of pizza from Dominos. Then, after a couple of hours of drinking beer and chowing down horrid pizza, we begin the broadcast. It seems like it is going great. In fact, we go through the entire female roster of the 7th floor. Only one problem. Radio Shack boy isn't all he's cracked up to be.
The girls on the 7th floor are steaming hot as they hear, one by one, why they are such a bitch. As it turns out, even the ones that scored a 1 or 2 were pissed, just on principal.
Unfortunately, our Radio Shack loving self proclaimed technical master ended up having us broadcast this little event to the entire dorm. All 12 Floors, and the admin and checkin offices. Oops.
A few hours later, once campus police convinced us that we did indeed have to open the door, our little party was disbanded. Four of us got shipped to other dorms, including yours truly, as I was one of the original conspirators. All of us had to go to "sensitivity training", whatever that was.
We all graduated, moved on, and became successful guys. I'm actually still pals with two of the girls from that dorm. Funny to look back now, 30 years later, and realize how stupid I was at 18. [Reply]
Originally Posted by tooge:
In college, one night a bunch of us were sitting in a dorm room smoking pot and drinking beer, listening to heavy metal. One of my buddies had recently broke up with a girl on the same floor of the dorm (co-ed). He begins by stating how much of a bitch she is. That, of course, is followed by how much of a bitch the rest of the gals on the 7th floor of Tenochca hall at SDSU really are. In fact, it evolves into an entire drinking game based on the newly created 7th floor bitch scale, a 1 to 10 scale, where a 1 is pretty damned cool, and you might **** a 10, just out of spite. We were already on shaky ground with most of the girls, as I orchestrated a threesome with two of them but denied it, and then two other guys and I managed to knock on all their doors, distract them, and then reverse the peep holes in their doors, allowing all the guys to go back later and "check up on them", allegedly of course.
Well, as luck has it, one of the guys on the floor is some sort of Radio Shack, electronics, stereo whiz. He advises us of his technical abilities, and we hatch our plan.
He will take the cover off of the speaker in one of our dorm rooms. He will remove the speaker, re wire some shit, and add a microphone. We will then broadcast a full episode of the "bitches of the 7th floor", complete with ratings and background music, Iron Maiden to be exact.
Although we were skeptical that he could pull this amazing feat off, we set a date. We even sent little notes under the doors of the gals on the 7th floor. We sneak a keg into the dorm in a "portable closet" that was supposed to be a gift from a parent. We order a shit ton of pizza from Dominos. Then, after a couple of hours of drinking beer and chowing down horrid pizza, we begin the broadcast. It seems like it is going great. In fact, we go through the entire female roster of the 7th floor. Only one problem. Radio Shack boy isn't all he's cracked up to be.
The girls on the 7th floor are steaming hot as they hear, one by one, why they are such a bitch. As it turns out, even the ones that scored a 1 or 2 were pissed, just on principal.
Unfortunately, our Radio Shack loving self proclaimed technical master ended up having us broadcast this little event to the entire dorm. All 12 Floors, and the admin and checkin offices. Oops.
A few hours later, once campus police convinced us that we did indeed have to open the door, our little party was disbanded. Four of us got shipped to other dorms, including yours truly, as I was one of the original conspirators. All of us had to go to "sensitivity training", whatever that was.
We all graduated, moved on, and became successful guys. I'm actually still pals with two of the girls from that dorm. Funny to look back now, 30 years later, and realize how stupid I was at 18.
