A bit of beer... Man, it’s you and your friends walking down that dark street. What’re you gonna do? Your bud’s got the beers, and you’re gonna follow and get into some trouble tonight. School sucks. Don’t those cats in power know what’s up? No. You got other ideas. Talking about that special girl, you know the one. She’s different – got your attention. Brown-eyed girl. So cute. Shit, kick the can down the street and think a bit. When the cops come down, you know how to run and ditch whatever might incriminate ya. Somehow you’re gonna be different and not follow the expected path… I listened to this Bliad’. This song is excellent Slushaiiiiiiiiiii
I went to a party. Ate something for the Friday so the liquor would sit down in there just right. Yeah. I could drink any amount of booze and have no troubles with my co-ordination if I ate that shit. Still, my judgment was fucked up, because of what I ate and augmented by what I drank. At that party was my sister, because she was and is a year younger than me and we had friends in common. At that party also, was the meanest guy in the neighborhood. He was a big, tattooed, wore black leather, had those chains and stuff, you know, and a motorcycle and he got a lot of his earnings from 'collections.' fuck. I was having some fun, I mean a lot of fun. I was had a stone on and a real serious drunk condition and that guy, he was working of my sister. Well, she was a big kid [not Big, I mean, almost an adult, eh?]. The guy was working on, I guess, fuckin 'er. He was welcome to it, I didn't police who my sister was busy partyin with, eh? No violence and I was a happy brother. Normally. She had had some boyfriends and, encounters. I would check the fucker out and trust in luck and good judgment and The Eye I gave, to let em know. But that guy? I had to make an exception, see? There was no way he was gonna be around my sis. I knew what would happen. I would be forced, and I didn't and still don't like, being corralled, being forced do do something.... I don't like to prejudge people and still don't, but that guy was off limits for my sister. I am sad and sorry to say, but a nigger would have brought on the same reaction: DANGER DANGER. I don't like niggers. Not fuckin my sister I sure as fuck don't. This guy was no nigger. He was another kind of unacceptable; white trash. I was not gonna run off and ditch that party and leave her there, with him, drunk and stoned or otherwise, nope. No unacceptable trash was gonna work on fuckin my very very drunk sister while I was around to say... NO I banged on the door her and he were in behind of. Nothing. I shouted into there, I know you can hear me, you better be ready, because we are going home, Marian. She had and has this passive, willing drunken slut behavior she had, and still has, when her judgment is all fucked up, even when she isn't fucked op, she is a slut, but not always that fucked up. I wanted to leave that party and I could not leave without her. I never ever let any woman I am escorting get out of my escorting until she is home. I don't need to go into that home. I just have to get her there, then she is her own policing. well, that guy, Tony was his name. He was in there. He said, 'Don't you come in here, little fellow.' I said, "I am coming back and gonna open this door, 5 minutes." And was too scared and anxious I was gonna have to kill someone. And I would have killed this guy if he fucked with me, even a little. If he didn't kill me first, which he probably could have... in a fair fight. Come on. Fair fight with a gangsta? No fuckin way. In and out, killed the fucker in less than a second and then skedaddle and fear the cops, who would find me. Fuck. I knew what was coming. I don't like to fuck with guys who are in a place they should no better than to fuck around. Hezey's sister. Don't even think about it, or you were dead. Not anymore, but back then? Oh yeah. She ain't 18 anymore, she is fifty+ now and better know how to protect her affairs while out, because I can't and won't. ANyway, never mind that. I went back to that door and I shouted, I am coming in. Get your shit together. I tapped again and I opened that door. There they were, ruffled but intact. I was lookin at him he was lookin at me and he said, "Marian wants to stay." I said, "No, she goes with me." He didn't know me and I didn't know him, just by reputation, I had seen him. Vice versa. And I had heard about him. I bet vice versa too. I closed the door and, on leaving said to my sis. "Get yer stuff on. I will come back in 5 minutes. Have your coat and purse." He said "No." I said, calmly, "Yes!" And closed that door. Five minutes later. Five minutes is hell when planning what is gonna be my killing strike, my one or two fast moves. I had to work that guy over fast. Would have one chance with that guy, eh? I had done that before, already had my tactics down. So, I got ready. I don't fight fair, never did. So, you can get a picture of what I had planned for that fucker, eh? I was dreading ruining that party, ruining that guy and ruining my future. And the stuff I ate and the booze, made the whole experience like when the scary music is playing before the bad thing happens in a Hollywood film..... I went back to the door, knocked again and shouted [the music was really load, so I had to shout].. I shouted, "I am coming in in 60 seconds! Counting down now!" And the rowdy crowd there, someone turned the music off. The fuckers wanted to see the little shrimp take on Mike Fuckin Tyson. Fuck. I was one brave bastard. Do you think brave means no fear? Fcuk off. I was ready to clime walls I was so scared, I was ready to defend my sister from Mike Tyson. Or any other who corralled me, forced me to do that I don't like to, eh? One minute later, shank in my boot, blak peppr in my clenched fist, roll of pennies in one pocket and my little [deleted in the other], I was at the door. She was there, so was he. If you think pepper in a grasped fist is strange or stupid, or funny, you are stupid. Think about it. I was lookin at him, he was me. He was huge and he was angry. But I was 5' 8" Hezey, with the confidence of a Lancelot, and the dangerous intent of Lancelot when he was crossed. I was not holding anything, but I could get at it in half a second. Then that fucker would have been dead. He said his little whispering to Marian, whatever he said, I don't give a fuck, still to this day. She came to me and walked out the door and she preceded me out the door and then out of there. Fuck was she angry at me. Later I explained to her what she was doing and what she had done and I expressed my fear and lathing that she caused me. If she were my brother, instead of my sister, and causing me to be nightmarishly aroused as Marian had cause, I would have dumped a brother, and let the fucker get of out whatever he had to, or not. But not a sister. Fuckin drunken whore. She still is. Years later I ran into that guy. We chatted a bit, laughed a bit, were uncortabe a bit. He asked how my sister was? I told him I am surprised he cared. He asked me if I was going to kill him that night, if he had said "She stays." A smiled and said, "Hell no, I wouldn't have done that, eh?" He was still huge and even meaner than he was before. I doubt he was stupid. And the night I tore him from my sis, I do not think he was stupid that night either. If he were stupid, he would have been dead. That night, was the first time I ever heard of a band I had never heard of. I think that album was part of my Bad Emotional State, along with what I ate and the booze. Very much. My sister is still no fuckin good. And her judgment is still terrible. And she still gets herself into stupid situations where danger is imminent and the only thing that has saved her from terrible tragedy luck. Her life hasn't had a LOT of terrible tragedy [look up terrible], but she has had all the other kinds of it. And she is cryin Stupid old cunt. PS: Nigger is no Negro. So don't you go correctin me, no am sane, home ease? I dislike YankPC rewrite. PPS: I think I wrote this same fuckin story before, here. Maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it didn't happen.
Rule: People with tattoos are either very good or bad at fighting. The more they look like hipsters (silly hair, Tina Fey-style glasses, fancy mannerisms, skinny jeans) the less likely they are to be formidable. If they got first tattoo during first year of college, prolly lame. If during military service, leave them be
Fighting in college, hmm...... I had my first [only] tattoo in juvenile hall... I had my first girl.... In the same boy's home.... Hahahahahahahaha [mac is puking right now, I know it....] . . . Rince it out: [I Like the horn. Is it a cornet? Or a trumpet...] Feel better mac? I was pullin yer leg! Maybe....
I BELIEVE THAT CHILDREN ARE OUR FUTURE NOW THIS CHICK IS DEAD, AND I STILL HEAR HER VOICE. WHEN WILL IT EVER STOP.
Michelle Obama? I don't recognize her. Janet Jackson? Sorry. uh Dianna Ross? Hmmm. I am stumped. OH, fuck she is that Doppler effect Negress, the one with the shrill screams, in that fuckin movie.. Right? The one that just ODed? What was her name? No... wait. Nevermind. I don't need to know. You gonna tell me though.
bit off topic, but was With-Ney Haist-on taking fatbusters to keep slim? here : http://s1121.photobucket.com/albums...w¤t=JimCarrey-JimmyTangosFatbusters.mp4 for soothing after that, listen this song, soothing or what?
I am very aware what is coming and I don't like it so I am grabbing all I can NOW and storing it away. 801 HI QUALITY tunes. 70s music. FM hits. Is FLAC so high quality. 32 GBs of music. I was waiting with baited breath for the Black-Suited Yankee Media NAZIs to pound on my door. Hasn't happened yet. I gotta find a collection of that quality from the sixties now. I am paying a buck a GB after my 60 that I can get for a month of Internet.... for that stuff, but it goes to the IP of mine, not to any Ashkenazim in California [who can fuck themselves]. Wait... I guess I gotta post a song here..... Howsabout an album? Canadian Culture. I saw this guy once. I was drunk as hell.
