I also realize that my audience may contain some poor unfortunate souls that don’t ever get laid. And of course by poor unfortunate souls I mean crybaby, bellyaching, wussy, incompetent faggots. If you find yourself at home cursing my name for not “appreciating” all the female attention I get, while you get very little if any, then I have only one suggestion. Stop being so fucking useless! You’re in charge of your own destiny, well aren’t you? If you don’t think so, then by all means live in your parent’s basement forever. Don’t forget to stroke off before you cry yourself to sleep every night, because that’s almost as good as having a woman. RIGHT!
I’m a horrible person and girls like me for some reason, so take some initiative, it’s not hard. Besides, if you keep reading a little further, you’ll see how this lifestyle of mine eventually ends up. I don’t believe in happy endings anyway.
So I have these 3 women, and I’m fairly miserable. That people is the sound of success.
Then all of a sudden, something magical happened. The bar I work at closed down for the weekend and all of the employees took a trip to Mexico. That’s right everyone, a fucking company trip to Mexico. This is just another reason why my job fucks your job in the ass, like the whiny bitch it is. Not only do I get paid to be mean to idiots, but then I get rewarded with trips to Mexico. I win!
The night before we left for the trip, stripper came into the bar to see me. I can only assume anyway. I made small talk with her, but at no time did I ever mention I was leaving the country for the weekend. I needed a break from this shit. Not too mention it was only a matter of time until I fuck it all up and run into one girlfriend when I’m out with another. That might also be foreshadowing, I’m not sure.
This trip was my saving grace, since my head was about to explode. After work Thursday night, and or, Friday morning I drove my drunken co-workers to the airport and we then proceeded to make a scene all through DIA. My employer decided that we would take the Christmas card photo while in Mexico, so as a result my buddy’s only carryon was a big box of Santa hats. If only all the airport employees didn’t hate their lives, they might have thought that was funny. Especially, as we wobbled our way to the terminal like a drunken amoeba.
We flew to Phoenix from Denver, and rented some vans in order to drive the rest of the way. Have you ever been kicked out of an airport bar for being too drunk? Well we have. There are few things as satisfying as whiskey at 9 in the morning.
At that point the only logical thing for us to do is purchase 10 cases of beer and start driving down to the border. We actually bought 20 cases of beer, but we split up into 2 vans. Half way down we ran out of beer and had to get fresh supplies. I about died from laughter when my boss stumbled into this liquor store 2 hours from the border and bought every can of sparks on the shelf. We also bought a few more cases of beer and a bottle of bourbon, so I’m sure you can imagine the state were in when we finally arrived at our destination.
So for the sake of time I’m now going to list off some of the key events that went down in Mexico, otherwise we’ll be here all day. These events also lead to lady number 4.
Hilarious Mexico Shit
We arrive at our hotel we never made reservations at. We discover that the hotel has been closed down. We then locate the owner and convince him to open it back up just for us. An entire hotel to ourselves for the weekend. Fuck yea.
We then repay the man’s hospitality by acquiring fireworks somehow and blowing shit up in the hotel. The thing to remember about Mexican fireworks is that they aren’t like the stuff you buy here. Fireworks in Mexico are essentially dynamite wrapped in paper. Drunk people with hand grenades is probably a poor idea, but we ran with it. We blew up a few chairs, a toilet, various fixtures, and someone threw a grenade in a big trash can full of empty beer and soda cans. When it exploded aluminum shrapnel flew out everywhere. I feared for my life.
Later on that first day we all end up at some bar that I can’t stand. It’s full of Americans having a stupid fucking dance party to the same fucking horrid music I can’t escape on a daily basis. I get kind of surely at this point and decide fuck everybody, if I wanted to hang out in a frathole bar, I would have stayed at home. I decide to wander off. One of the other guys feels the same. We decide to go in this dirty looking bar down the street. It turns out it’s a strip club…hilarious. I’ll yell about Americans in Mexican strip clubs in a little bit.
We go to this bar called Mickey’s to hang out, and it turns out that my boss is kind of friends with Mickey from previous trips. When we get there we are sadly informed by Mickey’s wife and son that Mickey has passed on. My boss then leaves for a moment to talk to Mickey’s widow, and when he returns he informs us that he just purchased all the booze in the entire bar. And I mean every fucking bottle, including a 50 liter cask of tequila. That’s right folks a 50 liter cask, or barrel, or drum, whatever the fuck you want to call it. My job kicks fucking ass. We then spend the next few hours drinking every drop of booze in the place. Now not only did we drink that entire cask of delicious home brewed tequila over the course of the weekend, but we refilled it a couple times and drank it again. 50 liters is like 13 gallons I think. We do all this before noon.
Having been an alcoholic in a town at a very high altitude for so long, I was not prepared for how awesome I would become at sea level. Drinking at sea level is an amazing experience. I changed from the God of Fuck, to the God of Drunk. Too drunk, was no longer an issue. I was like some drunk ass fucking super hero running around Mexico. My friends also went through a similar transformation. We became the justice league of drunks.
More firework shenanigans as I almost get arrested. All I wanted to do was go the god damn taco stand for some fucking tacos. Story of my life I suppose. So we’re all walking down the road by our hotel and I’m excited to go eat some tacos. One of the guys, who had been the master instigator of blowing crap up, decides to light a grenade and toss it into the street. A police car almost immediately drives over it. Luckily, it explodes before the car drives over it, but the cops still stop and get out. Everybody scatters, but the cops grab me and a few other guys, since they didn’t see who threw it. I’m very the glad the car didn’t drive over the fucking fireworks. Those things seriously are like grenades, the cop car might have exploded if it had, who knows. I’d probably be in some Mexican prison being ass fucked by every cholo with a teardrop tattooed on his face. I’m sure you all recall my rule about assholes. If you don’t want anything in your ass, then I certainly don’t want anything in mine. It is an exit only zone. We were fortunate that someone came to our rescue. As the cops searched us for explosives, which none of us had, some lady, who spoke perfect Spanish, told the police we had nothing to do with it. They very reluctantly let us go. I know enough Spanish to get around and order tacos and shit, but not enough to have a conversation with police about almost blowing up their car. Thank you strange lady, wherever you are.
Later on the whole group of us went to another strip club which was far better than the one I had previously been at. We’re the only people in this place, so we get a little rowdy.
I feel the need to explain the difference between American strip clubs, and Mexican Strip clubs. American strippers make fucking tons of cash. Guys get all drunk and horny and toss bills at girls till we run out. I know this because I have done this, and I had a stripper waiting for me back home. Also if you try and touch the girls some giant dude will appear and eat your face. Not in Mexico.
In Mexico, the girls might even be working for free. Who fucking knows. I find it satisfying enough throwing dollar bills at naked chicks till I run out. I get to get drunk and look at tits. The owners of the tits get all my money. Everybody wins. In Mexico nobody fucking tips the girls, and when they do, the bouncer rolls up on the stage and grabs all the money. The girls don’t get shit. Not only do they not get shit, but anyone who cares to can pretty much touch the women all over. And I do mean tit grabbing, cunt poking goodness. I just couldn’t believe it. I actually witnessed some fat lady with her fat ass boyfriend grab a stripper off the stage onto her lap. She then proceeded to suck on the strippers nipples in front of the entire bar. I couldn’t believe it. And we wonder why the world fucking hates us. Good one. The girls will also do just about anything for 30 bucks in the back room. I know this because I was privy to several failed blow job buying adventures. Funny stuff. I almost bought one myself before I reminded myself that these girls suck cock for a living. I tried to imagine just how many cocks they might actually suck in one day. Dirty shameless American cock. I decided to pass.
Instead of a blowjob I spent a fair amount of money on some really good cocaine that we purchased from the bouncer. You heard me. Mexico is all about service. Not only did this guy instantly get us some good blow, but he drove me to the fucking atm machine so I could get some more cash. I was convinced it was the only atm in Mexico. Fucking awesome. I can now say that I’ve done coke off a toilet tank, with my boss, in a Mexican strip club. My job fucks your job in the face. We went through about 3 grams that night. Not a bad bender if I may say so myself. The bar manager also got up on stage and stripped for everyone. He apparently had an exotic performer’s license. The strippers even gave him a few bucks. Good times.
The last day we leave the city and head to this bar called JJ’s or something which is about 20 minutes away, and right on the beach. This is where I meet mexico the girl. We park one of our vans on the beach and have our own little beach party. My employers buy cases and cases of booze from the bar and bring it down to the beach. We also bust out the big cask of tequila, which we had affectionately nicknamed, the tequila pig. At this point everybody throws on a santa hat and jumps in the ocean for the x-mas photo. Great success. We eventually make such a drunken scene on the beach that random people start migrating down to us from the bar out of curiosity. Our beach party becomes a festival of drunken tourists.
Then I see her. I’m totally fucking wasted at this point, so as far as I was concerned she was the prettiest girl in the world. In all fairness she is a pretty good looking girl, but she just has a giant fucking rack, and tits just fascinate me. It was on.
I make small talk with her and get her friends distracted by my friends and their overall ridiculous behavior.
I’ll end this installment by telling your exactly what I said to her before we started making out on the beach.
“I just want to eat very inch of you with a baby spoon. You know the kind with the plastic tip and the Snoopy handle?”
Fortune favors the bold.
In the next installment I run off and get left behind in Mexico. The things we do for pussy. God damn.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Guna Die Alone part 7
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