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GoldenDelicious
New member
...to beat the hell out of me
i was kinda bored and started typing earlier, so i thought id post about it on a couple of forums
so there i was, in a club full of about 1000 people, wearing (ironically) an everlast Tshirt with a boxing glove, and the logo 'knockouts' on it. it was a mates bday, and he had a cordoned off section of the club, with a private bar, which was nice
so anyway, there i am, happily halfway into my 4th beer (real beer, not that watered down crap you americans call beer), sitting in a comfy little chair across from a cute little Tara reid lookalike (more on her next week...hopefully ), facing the bar, when a really attractive greek girl plonks herself down on the vacant seat next to me. wild
.
so anyway, there i am, acting way drunker than i really was (i promise lol) chatting up this girl (doing really well, too!) when all of a sudden, this bikie slut looking girl comes up to the greek girl and starts talking. i didnt catch what was said, but it looked pretty unfriendly. apparently the bikie slut had reciognised the greek girl as being a girl who had cost her a job 4 years earlier...which is weird, since the greek girl was only 19.
so anyway, it seems taht bikie slut looking girl and her boyfriend the standover man (who was, by the way, at least 6 and a half feet tall, and a good 130 steroided kilograms in weight. at least. no exaggeration, i checked him out later on in the night. fuck me drunk, this guy was really big. big big.
) had taken me for greek girls boyfriend (told you i was doing well )
about a minute later, a friend of mine came over and told me, urgently "golden, get the fuck out of here man" and another came and said, on top of him "golden, get the fuck out of here, NOW, dont ask, just GO" and someone else said "tell taht guy to get the fuck out of here, he is about to get hit"
so anyway, it was pretty obvious what was going on - standover man was standing in the middle of a bunch of liquor fumes, and was about to come up and have a go at me to prove his undying love and manliness to that cheap piece of vagina yielding spam that he calls a girlfriend. wonderful. the tattoos covering his neck and arms to the wrist, leading up to the 3 chunky rings (one of which was a big gold skull) werent making me think good things about this motherfuckers character. already i had planned which particular chemicals i was going to use to poison this guys nervous system after i had gotten out of hospital, to make him immobile for a few years, and which carcinogen i was going to use to give him a nice, insidious form of inoperable cancer, which hopefully would make its way to his bones and cause him immense pain leading up to his death. (does that make me a bad person?)
now I don’t know about you guys, but the thought of slinking away from the scene like a beaten dog makes me feel…ooo fuck it makes me seethe
so while I considered each of the pretty fucked up options facing me, I was dimly aware that something had changed – it seems that standover man had detatched himself from the bar and was struggling through a resisting mass of people to get to me, some of whom were telling him not to worry about it and all the usual gibberish a bunch of drunk uncaring people say even though they know that the guy isnt going to change his mind…and so I decided, fuck it, got up, pushed my two well meaning aquaintences to one side, and waved to standover man, motioning that he should come over
you know when time kind of slows down when you know something really, really full-on is about to happen? And you all of a sudden start noticing all of this peripheral shit that you normally wouldn’t look at? Well yeah, it was like that. First, I noticed that a lot of faces had that “oh my fucking God” look on them. Secondly, I noticed that all of my so called “friends” had melted. Those pricks were GONE. (im going to remember this. All those motherfuckers girlfriends are no longer off limits. Damn softcocks I totally regret backing those pricks up when they needed to rumble with someone. bastards.) I also noticed a rather smug look on this particular indian guys face, and I remembered that he had been whispering things in standover mans ear all night…which was interesting, because I know that that particular indian guy has hated me for years (ever since I started dating all the girls he lusted after but was rejected by)…so im going to find this roiding curry muncher and if what I suspect is true, I am going to fucking destroy him
so anyway, the crowd totally OPENS for this guy. It was amazing. One minute there was a wall of people with this guys head and shoulders sticking out over it, and the next minute, all 6’7 or so of this tattooed meatball were revealed. Holy. Hell. So he stomps over, (and I put my hands up in that defensive “wait” stance that looks like youre passive, but really youre ready to cover-up your head when you duck and maybe smash him in the head/ribs if he leaves himself open) and he comes right up close, and his bellybutton hits my lower sternum (told you this prick was big), and I say “mate, wtf is going on?”
now I don’t know, but all of my good deeds for the year were cashed in when I heard the gears in this dipshits head click over, and he actually stops to listen to what I had to say. Ive been told in the past that I have an honest face (which makes it really easy for me to rip people off, especially old grandmas) and I suppose he was sucked in as well. So anyway, as I look (up) at him quizzically, I notice bikie slut to my right, so while standover man was mulling my question over, I ask her the same thing, and then turn back to standover dude, and instead ask him something simple – “whats your name mate?” and so in the midst of death and destruction, we have a kind of friendly introduction. Then bikie slut breaks into it, and says “your woman (who the hell says ‘woman’ like that? I don’t have a ‘woman’. Conan the barbarian has a ‘woman’) made me lose my job, so YOU better get her out of here, before I get HIM onto YOU”. So, obviously I was dealing with some pretty civilised and rational people, obviously.
Then standover man turns back from the birthday boy andsays to “let the girls sort it out” and that “he has no problem with me, mate”, and furthermore, that I was more than welcome to “stay around”, but I replied that the greek girl was pretty uncomfortable now and I was just going to go for a walk. What. The fuck.
I was later told that he had said that if I had tried to get out of there, he would have chased me down and it would have been on, but for some reason, the way it all went, he decided not to. So being my analytical self, I figured that the reason for this was one of the following:
a) he was totally in awe of my “knockouts” t-shirt and knew that he had met his match
b) he was sucked in by my friendly face and in a fit of compassion, decided to abandon his lifestyle of violence and mayhem
c) I reminded him of his little cousin bill who died horribly, choking on a chicken kebab while he vainly tried to resuscitate him
d) I totally fucking fluked it
Lock in d please, eddie.
But still, its pleasing to see that for once, there really was no other option but to meet the bullshit head on.
So, there was my Saturday night, and im glad I went out, because I learned a bunch of things. I don’t know why I didn’t do all this before, I mean, its such common sense. Things like, if youre going to go to a friendly birthday party and be surrounded by all your mates and relatives in a totally safe, secure night club, make sure to take your Glock and an extra ammo clip.
Some quick statistics…
Number of girls who grabbed my bum: 4
Number of girls who weighed less than me that grabbed my bum: 1
Number of people in the nightclub: 1000
Number of men in the nightclub: 800
Number of men who looked worse than me: 799
Number of tara reid lookalikes: 1
Number of tara reid lookalikes numbers now in my phone: 0 (bitch!!)
Number of really hot girls who sent pictures of themselves in ligerie to my telephone: 1
Number of picture messages lost by my phone company that night: 1
Percentage loss of hot, lingerie clad women by me personally: 100% (bastards!!!)
Number of tears shed by me because of my phone company: 922
Number of rings on standover mans hand: 3
Number of viable braincells in standover mans head: 27
Number of sexual partners previously had by bikie slut: 1087
Number of sexually transmitted diseases residing in bikie sluts orifices: 22
Number of days until bikie slut hopefully dies: 0.5
Number of tough guy friends I thought I had in the nightclub: 30
Number of fucking softcock friends I never knew I had: 29 (one was in the toilet)
And of course…
Number of days till Saturday: 6
this saturdays menu: Curry muncher
i was kinda bored and started typing earlier, so i thought id post about it on a couple of forums
so there i was, in a club full of about 1000 people, wearing (ironically) an everlast Tshirt with a boxing glove, and the logo 'knockouts' on it. it was a mates bday, and he had a cordoned off section of the club, with a private bar, which was nice
so anyway, there i am, happily halfway into my 4th beer (real beer, not that watered down crap you americans call beer), sitting in a comfy little chair across from a cute little Tara reid lookalike (more on her next week...hopefully ), facing the bar, when a really attractive greek girl plonks herself down on the vacant seat next to me. wild
.so anyway, there i am, acting way drunker than i really was (i promise lol) chatting up this girl (doing really well, too!) when all of a sudden, this bikie slut looking girl comes up to the greek girl and starts talking. i didnt catch what was said, but it looked pretty unfriendly. apparently the bikie slut had reciognised the greek girl as being a girl who had cost her a job 4 years earlier...which is weird, since the greek girl was only 19.
so anyway, it seems taht bikie slut looking girl and her boyfriend the standover man (who was, by the way, at least 6 and a half feet tall, and a good 130 steroided kilograms in weight. at least. no exaggeration, i checked him out later on in the night. fuck me drunk, this guy was really big. big big.
) had taken me for greek girls boyfriend (told you i was doing well )about a minute later, a friend of mine came over and told me, urgently "golden, get the fuck out of here man" and another came and said, on top of him "golden, get the fuck out of here, NOW, dont ask, just GO" and someone else said "tell taht guy to get the fuck out of here, he is about to get hit"
so anyway, it was pretty obvious what was going on - standover man was standing in the middle of a bunch of liquor fumes, and was about to come up and have a go at me to prove his undying love and manliness to that cheap piece of vagina yielding spam that he calls a girlfriend. wonderful. the tattoos covering his neck and arms to the wrist, leading up to the 3 chunky rings (one of which was a big gold skull) werent making me think good things about this motherfuckers character. already i had planned which particular chemicals i was going to use to poison this guys nervous system after i had gotten out of hospital, to make him immobile for a few years, and which carcinogen i was going to use to give him a nice, insidious form of inoperable cancer, which hopefully would make its way to his bones and cause him immense pain leading up to his death. (does that make me a bad person?)
now I don’t know about you guys, but the thought of slinking away from the scene like a beaten dog makes me feel…ooo fuck it makes me seethe
so while I considered each of the pretty fucked up options facing me, I was dimly aware that something had changed – it seems that standover man had detatched himself from the bar and was struggling through a resisting mass of people to get to me, some of whom were telling him not to worry about it and all the usual gibberish a bunch of drunk uncaring people say even though they know that the guy isnt going to change his mind…and so I decided, fuck it, got up, pushed my two well meaning aquaintences to one side, and waved to standover man, motioning that he should come over
you know when time kind of slows down when you know something really, really full-on is about to happen? And you all of a sudden start noticing all of this peripheral shit that you normally wouldn’t look at? Well yeah, it was like that. First, I noticed that a lot of faces had that “oh my fucking God” look on them. Secondly, I noticed that all of my so called “friends” had melted. Those pricks were GONE. (im going to remember this. All those motherfuckers girlfriends are no longer off limits. Damn softcocks I totally regret backing those pricks up when they needed to rumble with someone. bastards.) I also noticed a rather smug look on this particular indian guys face, and I remembered that he had been whispering things in standover mans ear all night…which was interesting, because I know that that particular indian guy has hated me for years (ever since I started dating all the girls he lusted after but was rejected by)…so im going to find this roiding curry muncher and if what I suspect is true, I am going to fucking destroy him
so anyway, the crowd totally OPENS for this guy. It was amazing. One minute there was a wall of people with this guys head and shoulders sticking out over it, and the next minute, all 6’7 or so of this tattooed meatball were revealed. Holy. Hell. So he stomps over, (and I put my hands up in that defensive “wait” stance that looks like youre passive, but really youre ready to cover-up your head when you duck and maybe smash him in the head/ribs if he leaves himself open) and he comes right up close, and his bellybutton hits my lower sternum (told you this prick was big), and I say “mate, wtf is going on?”
now I don’t know, but all of my good deeds for the year were cashed in when I heard the gears in this dipshits head click over, and he actually stops to listen to what I had to say. Ive been told in the past that I have an honest face (which makes it really easy for me to rip people off, especially old grandmas) and I suppose he was sucked in as well. So anyway, as I look (up) at him quizzically, I notice bikie slut to my right, so while standover man was mulling my question over, I ask her the same thing, and then turn back to standover dude, and instead ask him something simple – “whats your name mate?” and so in the midst of death and destruction, we have a kind of friendly introduction. Then bikie slut breaks into it, and says “your woman (who the hell says ‘woman’ like that? I don’t have a ‘woman’. Conan the barbarian has a ‘woman’) made me lose my job, so YOU better get her out of here, before I get HIM onto YOU”. So, obviously I was dealing with some pretty civilised and rational people, obviously.
Then standover man turns back from the birthday boy andsays to “let the girls sort it out” and that “he has no problem with me, mate”, and furthermore, that I was more than welcome to “stay around”, but I replied that the greek girl was pretty uncomfortable now and I was just going to go for a walk. What. The fuck.
I was later told that he had said that if I had tried to get out of there, he would have chased me down and it would have been on, but for some reason, the way it all went, he decided not to. So being my analytical self, I figured that the reason for this was one of the following:
a) he was totally in awe of my “knockouts” t-shirt and knew that he had met his match
b) he was sucked in by my friendly face and in a fit of compassion, decided to abandon his lifestyle of violence and mayhem
c) I reminded him of his little cousin bill who died horribly, choking on a chicken kebab while he vainly tried to resuscitate him
d) I totally fucking fluked it
Lock in d please, eddie.
But still, its pleasing to see that for once, there really was no other option but to meet the bullshit head on.
So, there was my Saturday night, and im glad I went out, because I learned a bunch of things. I don’t know why I didn’t do all this before, I mean, its such common sense. Things like, if youre going to go to a friendly birthday party and be surrounded by all your mates and relatives in a totally safe, secure night club, make sure to take your Glock and an extra ammo clip.
Some quick statistics…
Number of girls who grabbed my bum: 4
Number of girls who weighed less than me that grabbed my bum: 1
Number of people in the nightclub: 1000
Number of men in the nightclub: 800
Number of men who looked worse than me: 799
Number of tara reid lookalikes: 1
Number of tara reid lookalikes numbers now in my phone: 0 (bitch!!)
Number of really hot girls who sent pictures of themselves in ligerie to my telephone: 1
Number of picture messages lost by my phone company that night: 1
Percentage loss of hot, lingerie clad women by me personally: 100% (bastards!!!)
Number of tears shed by me because of my phone company: 922
Number of rings on standover mans hand: 3
Number of viable braincells in standover mans head: 27
Number of sexual partners previously had by bikie slut: 1087
Number of sexually transmitted diseases residing in bikie sluts orifices: 22
Number of days until bikie slut hopefully dies: 0.5
Number of tough guy friends I thought I had in the nightclub: 30
Number of fucking softcock friends I never knew I had: 29 (one was in the toilet)
And of course…
Number of days till Saturday: 6
this saturdays menu: Curry muncher
Plus a mark on that pretty face would be a sin.
