Slum Culture

          Just as a fair warning this post isn’t going to be much like my previous ones. I want to write about  something that has been bothering me for a long time and I prefer the relative anonymity of the internet as a forum. I would like to preface this by saying that I am in no way trying to make a far reaching statement about minorities, especially black people. I know that the group of people that I am about to talk about represents only a minority and it shouldn’t be seen as a representation of the whole.

           I live south of Baltimore and travel into the city on public transportation 5 times a week. The stuff I hear and see on the train disgusts me. I have a mind to record the statement I hear during the course of the week and to put them up here.

I want everyone to know what I see every day. I see women with black eyes and bruises all over their bodies, I see men exchanging knives, I children getting smacked and sworn at, I see men flip out their penis and start masturbating when they see a young attractive female walk by, I see children skipping school, I see drug deals, young girls dressed like street walkers, I see young men’s underwear, I see a complete lack of respect for older/ disabled people.

I want everyone to hear what I hear every day—people swearing at each other, people addressing each other as “bitch”, people haggling over the price of a prostitute, men talking about how their woman is such a dumb bitch that they are going to pop her in the face when they get home. I hear young children swearing at each other and at their parents. I hear people yelling degrading rap songs with offensive words in front of children. I hear about police arrests, robberies, and high school “bankings”.

Why though? Why do people live like this? How can people live like this? I am not for one second going to deny that these people were jaded by the system. They had the misfortune of being born poor. But at what point do you draw the line between Jaded by the system and Jaded by choice?

It seems second nature for these people to blame all their wrongs on something that someone else did. These aren’t the same people that walked alongside Martin Luther King Jr. and fought for civil rights. What happened to them?

Why is there an urban culture that says this kind of stuff is acceptable? Why is it ok for a highschooler to tell an old lady to mind her own fucking business when she ridicules him for skipping school? Why is it ok for young girls to wear the equivalent of lingerie and roam the streets? Why isn’t anyone mad about this or saying anything about it? When did this become ok?

I think that there is something to be said for a parent that can put the fear of God into their child. I am not talking about being beaten or abused but a parent that actually does their job. Why aren’t parents making sure their daughters aren’t walking around with their ass and breasts hanging out of their clothes? Why aren’t parents making sure that their sons aren’t walking around with their ass and boxers exposed? Why aren’t parents making sure their kids go to school? Why aren’t parents disciplining their children? Aren’t these the type of things that are done out of love? Or is lack of love the problem?

Why are all these quintessential parenting obligations being forced upon the school system? To enable parents not to do their jobs? I really can’t think of another explanation. Why are the schools tasked with teaching about sex education and making sure children have enough to eat and making sure that depression is detected before little Johnny brings a shot gun to school and shoots up his classmates? WHY ISN’T THE SHOTGUN SECURED WITHIN LITTLE JOHNNY’S HOME?!

Some parents blame the schools for “being so shitty they caint even teach my kid to spell. They aint taught him to write good neither”. Let me remind you that these are the same schools that other minorities, living in slummy areas, go to. They are the first generation immigrant students, a lot of them with the added disadvantage of not being able to speak English well at first, and somehow they excel in the same “shitty school system.”

Despite that, society sees immigrant children, the ones that tried hard and follow the rules, as the problem. Not the kids that perpetually skip class and the parents that don’t give a damn. These ones, the ones that work hard at school and go home and work even harder because their parents actually care—they  are the problem. They are the ones that “steal jobs”. What jobs are they stealing exactly? The ones that little Johnny couldn’t qualify for because he never graduated?! Are we really punishing them for this?

Why would we want to give job preference to someone that just looked at an opportunity for success square in the eye and said “fuck you man”? That didn’t try? That would rather spend his days wandering the streets looking for girls that pull tricks on the side of the road? Why should you be rewarded for that kind of behavior with job preference?

Then there are the few people that abuse welfare that cause everyone that is rightfully deserving of it to suffer the consequences. If you get welfare, unemployment, food stamps, whatever… you should be 1. Thankful and 2. Trying to get back on your own feet.

It irritates me to no end to see restaurants specializing in blue crab and king crab with banners that say “FOOD STAMPS ACCEPTED HERE!” What the hell?! Why are these people eating luxury food items on government assistance? Why didn’t anyone think this was messed up? Why don’t people on government assistance feel bad for eating a delicacy when they aren’t footing the bill? What kind of person does this? But these people don’t seem to care. They aren’t thankful. They act like society owes this to them. Society owes them a king crab dinner because they are a minority or white trash, and therefore they are jaded by the system.

This culture sucks. It needs to be changed. People need to tell that man on the bus that swears into the phone that those words are offensive and he should be ashamed for saying them because small children can hear him. People need to stand up and tell that girl wearing booty shorts and a tube bra that she looks like a street walker and if she has any respect for herself or her safety she would put more clothes on.

People need to stop acting like it is ok that every other word in a song is a swear and that women are referred to as bitch and hoe. People need to recognize it for what it is—degradation. People need to stop watching/promoting music videos that degrade women in how they are treated and how they dress.

Parents need to change. They need to start knowing where there kids are and watching their language when their kids are listening. Parents need to recognize that their life changes once they have a child—they can’t act the same way they did before. They can’t dress like a street walker and stay out at night clubs until the early morning hours. The excuse “I am still young” is forfeited when you have a baby. Stop spending money on your hair and nails when your baby doesn’t have shoes on his feet. You aren’t the priority any more—the child is. If you aren’t ready to accept that reality, then don’t have kids. Parents need to reinforce the idea that schooling is important and to teach their children to respect their elders. Parents need to reinforce positive a self-esteem and personal dignity in their children so that they aren’t walking around in the middle of the night half naked looking for acceptance. Parents need to spend time with their children—period.

This culture needs to change. This is unacceptable. I refuse to believe that people in slums that live like this are completely a product of the system. There is definitely an element of choice. They choose not to stand up to a culture that encourages such awful behaviors. They choose to pretend like there is nothing wrong with how they act. They choose to put their kids in same cycle of poverty and self-destruction as they chose for themselves. In doing so, they shame themselves and should not be so surprised when society’s disapproval of them materializes.

I am not about to apologize for saying that I am disgusted with Slum culture. It makes me afraid for myself and for children. I really would like people to take responsibility for themselves and start to put an end to it.

the "HOT PINK DANCE POLE"

So one day one of my really good friends, who we are going to give the alias Jane, asked a favor of me. She and I met in undergrad on a trip to Belize and we hit it off immediately. We were complete opposites... in that I am a known prude/socially conservative and shy... and she is not. She will tell you what ever the hell is on her mind the second that she thinks it.

We got along perfectly. I was censored, she was not. Yin and Yang.

One day she asked me to do a favor for her. She asked me to come with her to buy a stripper pole from Spencers at the Mall. Now, she was a student teacher at a middle school in the area. She asked me to go with her because she didn't want to risk any of her students seeing her walking around the mall holding a stripper pole. And, she offered me free dinner if I would agree to do it. So I thought, Oh what the hell. Sure lets do this.

We got to spencers and went to the back where they had a few different types of stripper poles. They come in a box that is about three feet long and had neon pink and green silhouettes of girls with big tits wearing stripper heals. And just incase this wasn't eye catching enough it said something like "HOT PINK DANCE POLE" on the outside. She gave me the money to pay for the pole and we left the store, me walking around with the stripper pole.

I never realized just how crowded the Garden State Plaza was on a friday night until I had to weave in and out of mobs of people wielding a stripper pole.

Then Jane offered to buy me some food as promised. We were waiting in line for something fast food, me holding this big friggin pole in my hands. There was a woman with small children behind us giving me the stink eye hard core. I wasn't really sure what to do. I couldn't very well hide the pole, so I just owned it. I tried to pretend like I didn't see her staring at me with her arms folded. But I couldn't help it. I had to turn around and smile. What else could I do?

And then my car keys fell down the garbage disposal...

Another thing that seems to happen to me on a semi regular basis is that my clumsiness lands me in quite peculiar situations. This has led to several embarassing injuries and strange situations in general.

My sophmore year of college my friend Elliot told me this story about a little kid dressed as Darth Vader at a shopping mall. There were some electric sliding doors in the entrance to the mall. As Elliott told the story, the kid walked up to the door and pretended to throw the door open with a movement of both his arms outward (just as the sensor in the door sensed his presence there). It sounded hallarious. Well, I decided that this story was worth passing on to my friend. She didn't quite understand what I meant when I said that "the kid pretended to throw the electric sliding doors open" so I decided to demonstrate when we went to CVS. So I walked up to the door and threw my arms out to the side just like Vader would have... Only at the same time I managed to jerk my neck really hard. At first I didn't think much of it. But the next morning I couldn't walk into a straight line and I kept sailing into all the walls in my dormitory. My roomate, who was super religious thought I was legit drunk for several days because my balance was so bad. I kept falling down the stairs and hugging the door frame. So I went to the doctor and he told me I got a Vertigo. When my mom asked me how I got it... I told her the truth.. I was was doing a darth vader impression.

On another occasion I drove home to Maryland from New Jersey really late at night. Not wanting to wake anyone up when I got home I decided to tiptoe in the dark over to where my family hung the keys and put my keys away before going to bed. Our key hooks were located in close proximity to our kitchen sink. I miscalculated and my car keys did not hit the hook, rather they fell down the sink and into the garbage disposal. Yes that is right. I turned on the lights and ended up trying to fish my car keys out of there for a good 15 min with a hot dog grabber (I don't know what the hell that thing is called). I kept grabbing the disposal blades and my keys were sinking further and further!! It was so scary! Finally, the hot dog grabber grabbed onto one of my keychains and I managed to ge the keys out of there, albiet with pieces of corn and miscellaneous bits of food sticking all over it.

This other time I was at a MENSA convention with my family in highshcool. When I was a kid, we went to one in Philadelphia that was awesome. They rented out a hotel and had several game rooms and a 24 hour buffet! So I was super excited to go to this convention... but this one was pretty disappointing. There weren't any game rooms, just random lecturers. There wasn't even a swimming pool at the hotel :(. But I think the thing that was the most annoying was that there were no young people there besides my two sisters and I. Now my parents go to sleep early and my dad snores loud enough to get a reading on an earthquake ricktor scale. So even though we had separate (adjoining) rooms neither of my sisters nor I could get any sleep. So I decided to go wander to the snack room. Since there were no young people I didn't bother changing out of my pajamas which had like cats with big yellow bows on the them. Quite frankly, I looked like a hot mess. I got a cup full of cheetos and I hop in the elevator. Lo and behold I see the only young guy I had seen all day and he was gorgeous! He said hello to me... just as I started choking profusely on a cheeto. It took me a while to get the thing dislodged and by that time I had missed my stop on the elevator. WAY TO KEEP IT CLASSY KATHLEEN!

Yes so ... being clumsy is definitely one of my fortes.

Did you really just pop a Corona in my face?

So, I think most of you know I have been single for a while. Hell my grandmother sure knows it, she asks me about it every time I call her... But I digress.

I suppose you could say I am "casually dating"... whatever that means. To me, it means that I agree to go out with people that I think I might like... but usually I end up finding out that a) they are crazy or b) that I don't like them as much as I thought I did. Nevermind the guys that fall into the B category for this post. I suppose this is supposed to be some kind of a demented learning process so I am going to share the things I have learned with you.

1. Don't feel bad refusing to give people your phone number. Lets call bachelor number 1 Andy. I met Andy through my friend Robert. Andy was Robert's friend from the Army. They fought together in Iraq and now they are at University together. Ok so, after chatting for like half an hour Robert had to leave, which left Andy and I talking for a bit. Now I had never met Andy before and he seemed a bit off but, you know me, I hate being rude to people. Andy asked me for my number. Instinctively, I didn't like the guy but I didn't know how to politely say no. So I gave it to him. BAD IDEA. Trust your gut instinct ladies, it is usually right! Right after I gave this dude my number he asks me "so you are a law student, right?" Usually when someone asks this question it means that they are about to ask you some super complicated legal question that you have no idea how to answer. He was no exception to this rule. He then said "I was at a bar the other night and this guy started coming at me with a knife so I wrestled it out of his hands and then I cut his face up. Now I might have to go to jail for 2years. What should I do?" ... What really?! Can I have my number back? Through out the next week he kind of blew up my phone... even though I was ignoring him. I was doing double takes everytime I went outside thinking that this weirdo was going to jump out of the bushes and cut me up. So, moral of the story, don't feel obligated to give your phone number out to people and trust your instincts.

2. Some guys really have no idea when to shut up. Over the summer a friend of a friend asked me to dinner. Lets call him Josh. I hardly knew Josh but I said yes. For two weeks he texted me several times a day and when I didn't respond fast enough he got antsy and asked me why I wasn't responding. Bitch! Don't you know I work and have stuff to do? I am not ignoring you so calm the hell down! So the day of the date arrived. He took me to a fancy restaurant. I gave him points for that. He asked me what I liked to do and I told him a list of hobbies.. like piano playing and running yada yada. I asked him the same and his answer was "I like going to bars." DUH. Everyone likes going to bars. That isn't a hobby. Then he went on to tell me all his crazy drunk stories from college and about some of the random hookups he had had while drunk. Awkward. Then he segued somehow into talking about his exgirlfriend. Great, just what I want to hear about on a first date. Next he asked me about my crazy drunk stories. I mean, I drink but I don't particularly like being shitfaced in public or having sex with random people or streaking. I live a pretty tame life. He wasn't satisfied with this answer, apparently I wasn't adventurous enough.

Then he asked what I wanted to do. I suggested that we go to the carnival in town. We got there and he paid. We started riding some Grade A sketch rides. After we rode a few rides and we were getting strapped into another, he tells me that carnival rides make him throw up. The last time he rode one, which happened to be the gravitron, he vomited and got everyone covered in his puke. Ya Know you could have told me this before we got strapped into the ride... or before we got to the carnival. You could have said, "Could we please not go to the carnival because I get sick easily", which would have been a perfectly respectable thing to say. But no! And I ride that next ride half afraid that I was going to get drenched in half digested hamburger.

Then he asks me to come home with him and I say no. He asks again and says, you can meet my grandmother and all my extended family. UMM no. Was this supposed to persuade me? No, I do not want to meet your grandmother on the first date. Sorry.

So, we go to this dock instead and on the way down to the dock he tells me about how he lost his virginity when he and his friends gang banged this drunk girl in highschool. REALLY?? Is that supposed to be impressive?

So, after a few min he asks me to go out with him again and I say no. He gets super frustrated and tries to find out why. I don't have the nerve to say, "Because you broke every dating rule there is you dummy!" So I just said something like "I am just not feeling it. There is no chemistry on my end." He gets mad and says something like "You are just one of those girls who likes to go out with a guy and spend all his money and then never call him again!" I wanted to say to him "And you are one of those guys who is a fucking moron that doesn't know how to act right." But that is not what I said. What I said was "If it means that much to you, here is your $40 that you spent on me. Take me to my car." That was an awkward car ride if I have ever ridden one. Needless to say I never called him again. I suppose the moral of this story is, if a guy is a shitty date don't feel bad spending his money.

3. Don't stand too close to a guy when he is trying to "pop" a corona. For my birthday I went out with my friends in downtown Annapolis. There was a guy I had been seeing off and on during the summer. Lets call him Jake. Things with Jake weren't serious and we both knew that we were more friends than anything else. But none the less I was attracted to him and I liked hanging out with him. Anyway, he decided he was going to show me how to pop a corona... only when he did it he poped the damn thing directly in my face on accident. I was covered in beer. So much for doing my hair. Happy birthday me!

4. If a guy offers to take you on a first date to a shooting range... he might be worth considering. Yes, this actually happened. A guy I had only met once in my life at a bar, let him be known as Morris, invited me on a first date to a shooting range. You must really appreciate the level of trust that this involves. For all he knows, I could have been some crazy bitch... or vice versa. At first I thought to myself... agree with everything he says on the ride over there because god knows if you piss him off you might come home with a bullet hole in your body. But actually, it was a lot of fun. Even though things never really progressed with him, I do give him points for the bold first date.

Alright, I am out.

"The only thing the army ever did for me was teach me how to smoke and hunt rattlesnakes"

So, another thing that seems to happen to me a lot... random people like to tell me their life story.

Now this usually happens in the course of my daily travels on public transportation. I once met a man waiting for the train that told me he had just traveled all the way to New York City to see Megan Fox. And then, much to his diasappointment when he saw her, she refused to give him her autograph. Another lady told me how she had just saved up $200 to send to her delinquent son in jail for his birthday. This other guy told me all his relationship woes; he had just recently been in a big fight with his girlfriend and he didn't know how to get her back.

But there is one guy that stands out among the rest. I didn't meet him on public transport. No, I met him at the podiatrist's office.

As some of you know, I happen to have inherited two lovely bone deformities, one on each foot, known as bunions. They are pretty painful to have and even more painful to remove. Anyway, it was my two week post operative check up and I was still on a lot of pain killers at the time.

This man, that looked to be about 60ish, walked into the office and went up to the window. The receptionist asked him to sign in and he said he was not here for an appointment, he was waiting on his father. He then proceeded to tell the receptionist a dirty joke and she slammed the glass window in his face and told him to sit down.

What a lead in.

Naturally, he sits across from me. He started asking me why I was wearing a medical boot and I told him why. Then he went on to tell me that he had two bunion surgeries. He said that he insisted he have both of them done at the same time against the better judgment of his doctor. Then he told me that I didn't have to listen to what the doctor's said about not being able to walk without the boot on after two weeks, because he was able to go back to work in that time. Apparently, this guy has the capability of superhuman healing times.

I wasn't really giving anything more than an occasional head nod to show the guy that I was aknowledging that he was speaking to me. Truth be told, he sounded like he didn't know what he was talking about and I wanted him to leave me alone. However, I didn't want to seem rude.

Anyway, this guy goes on to tell me that when he was a kid, his brother was swinging around a some kind of a hammer and hit him in the head. He had a gash in his skull and he was running around bleeding all over the place for a while. His brother didn't seem to want to help him out too much. He ran up to his porch steps when upon seeing him, his mother passed out. The neighbors apparently didn't care to stop him from running around or call an ambulance so he ran inside. He was about to "jump out the window of the master bedroom" (why this seemed like a good idea I am not sure) when his grandmother tackled him to the ground. Eventually, he was sent to the ER and had an exorbitant amount of stitches put in his skull.

Now, I am in no way going to try to make light of this story. This is an awful story. I told him I was glad he was alright. Then he moved to the seat next to me and told me to feel where the dent was in his skull. Now that was awkward. I politely refused and he went back to his seat.

And the story continued.... All through highschool this guy didn't do well. His brothers were honor roll students and he was lucky to get Cs. His father was never happy with him and told him he was a dead beat. The man said that nobody ever thought to check if he had a learning disability due to the big gash in his head. I guess he felt really cheated by that. After highschool he joined the army.

He said he wanted to join. Everyone else was dodging the draft and moving to Canada but he wasn't afraid. Vietnam was real and he was ready. He was sent to New Mexico for Army training, but the conflict was over before he left New Mexico. He seemed disappointed. He said "The only thing the army ever did for me was teach me how to smoke pot and how to hunt rattlesnakes." Apparently, all the officers and enlisted men in his unit smoked pot and then went out snake huntin'. He said he got so good at it that he used to cut off the rattles on the rattlesnakes and mail them to the little kids back in his home town. Those kids thought he was a God for doing so.

For a while after that he started telling me about how his brothers, who didn't seem interested in helping the man take care of his father. He was angry that they were suddenly interested in making sure their names were put in his father's will.

Then this guy asked me if I liked dirty jokes. Really? I said no and I tried to pretend like I was reading the novel I brought with me. Maybe that would signal that I really just wanted to be left alone. But it didn't.

The story telling continued for about 30 min until this man's father came out. The father must have in his 80s or 90s. They paid and were on their way.

I suppose I should be flattered that people feel comfortable enough around me to tell me about their life after they first meet me. I wonder if maybe this guy was actually Forest Gump reincarnated. Or maybe he was just a man looking not for someone to talk to... just someone to listen.

Steak Taco Ice Cream anyone?

I work part time at a Mexican Restaurant called Chevys in Hanover, Maryland. I do it because it is a nice break from Law School and it helps provide me with some much needed cash. Now, there are all kinds of crazy that be coming into this restaurant.

There was a man who once refused to sit down until his friend arrived... an hour later. And another man that brought in a Chihuahua in a "working dog" vest that he held in his lap while he ate. (To this day I wonder what exactly a working Chihuahua does... I can't imagine it is a seeing eye dog... comfort dog?) Occasionally, we have drunk people that scale the wall that separates the restaurant from the mall.

One night I was one of the closers. It was about 9pm and there weren't many people at the restaurant. These two guys were sitting at a booth table finishing their meals and ice cream. I walked up to them and asked them, "So, uh.. do you want a box for that taco?" He responds yes. I placed the box down on the table and watched one of the guys put his taco in the box as I pick up the check.

I went to the kiosk to swipe his credit card. Just then, I turn my head to the dining room and out of my periph I can see that guy putting his ice cream into the same box that he just put the taco in. REALLY?

How on earth could this possibly be a good idea? First of all, ice cream melts ya dumb dumb. Second of all, YOU PUT YOUR STEAK TACO AND YOUR ICE CREAM IN THE SAME DAMN BOX!

I then go over to the table to try to help avert a bad situation. I say, "you know sir, I could get you a separate container for the ice cream." He responds... "NAH man! Its ok!"

Nah man! Its ok! I suppose tacos that have been saturated with sugary confection and melted ice cream make the ideal midnight snack! Perhaps lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, chipotle mayonaise, and green peppers are delicious on fried icecream!

I mean, I was really opposed to pineapple pizza when it first came out and look at what a hit that turned out to be. Perhaps this is the next best thing!

So people, don't be suprised if the next time you are out and your friend says something like "man I could really go for some steak ice cream!" or "Mustard flavored cheese cake sounds great right now!" They really could be onto something big. DON'T Judge them! Because, after all, what the hell do you know right? You are just a normal person with common sense.

I suppose there are certain memories in life that are worth remembering.

I have never really given much thought to a blog. It is upon Rachael's suggestion that I have started to entertain the idea. So, I would like to apologize in advance for my usage of only basic grammar, spelling mistakes, and run on sentences.

As many of my friends and family members have noticed, weird shit happens to me on a semi-regular basis. Actually, sometimes wierd might not even be an adequate qualifier.

For example... a few days after I had just had a biopsy on a tumor in my chest my friend decided it was high time that we go out to celebrate. As we were heading to Annapolis, she tells me "Kathleen, tonight we are going to find you A MAN!" That should have been my first red flag. I understand that I am one of the only single ones in my group of friends and that this fact is made pretty obvious when I go out with this particular friend. She is a Grade A wingwoman, I'll give her that much, but usually the guys she sends my way seem to be a bit off (as in quite possibly former convicts or psychopaths). Anyway, this night was nothing different. So we get to this bar, Armadillos, which is notorious for being flooded with midshipmen from the naval academy. Granted that those boys are a pretty handsome bunch, they aren't without their... peculiarities.

She is one of those super friendly types that talks to everyone she sees. So as soon as we walked in she was striking up conversations left and right. She was having a girls night away from her boyfriend. She found this cute guy named Shane right away and it was pretty obvious that they were into each other.

I was playing my usual role of wallflower when all of the sudden this overtly intoxicated dude in a cardigan and berkenstocks approaches me. Apparently, he is Shane's friend Collin and they both go to the academy. His opening line is something like "Wow you are an awful dancer.... I like to make women feel inferior to me. What do you say we go to the mens room and see if we are sexually compatible?" REALLY? How romantic! This is just what every girl dreams of... having sex in a fucking urinal. Where do I even begin with this one? But it gets better....

I laugh it off and pretend that I didn't hear what he said and walk away. This bitch follows me to the bar. Then he says "Oh come on baby! Help me out! I just got shot and I am just starting to get back to my life. Help a man out!" I look at him like Yo! WTF! But, at this point I am curious. The dude said he got shot. So I asked "Who shot you?" This dude, lifts his foot up on the bar stool and shows me a legit bullet hole scar in his knee. Then he says "My ex-girlfriend's cocaine dealer shot me in the leg."

I can only imagine what my face looked like at this point. This dude keeps harassing me to give him fallacio in a urinal and then he shows me a bullet hole from a drug deal gone bad in his leg? WHAT?

At this point I am desperately trying to signal to my friend that we needed to get the hell out of that bar. But alas, she is really hitting it off with Shane. I didn't want to be a cockblock. I really didn't. So I thought to myself, alright, I will take this one for the team. Things can't get any weirder than this. So I decide to move to another area of the bar.

Collin follows... Then Collin's friend, who we shall call Pauly D due to his likeness to the Jersey Shore Character, blocks my escape path. I AM DOOMED!!! Pauly D says (and I swear this is the first thing he said to me) "HEY! I am from Jersey!" No Shit ya damn guido! Your hair looks like you cut it with a lawn mower, you have on a shirt two sizes too small, you have weird tatoos that don't make any sense, and you have chest hairs all poking out. You fit the description buddy, no need to emphasize the obvious. Not wanting to seem rude I say "Oh really? I used to work in Newark!" NO LIE this bitch looks me in the face and says "NEWARK!! Thats where I met all my favorite prostitutes at!"

Perfect. Just Perfect. Cocaine/urinal sex man and prostitute boy. Ofcourse they have to be friends. That is an unstopable duo. They should have a tv show. Not to mention they are both enrolled at the Naval Academy, which boasts an acceptance rate lower than Princeton. These are the guys that will soon be officers in our Navy. BRAVO! BRAVO!

At this point I have no qualms about being a cock block. I needed to get the hell out. I went up to my girlfriend and said "HEY YOU! Get Shane and we are leaving! I don't care if he comes with us, but his crazy friends cannot!" She looks really confused, as does Shane but I don't have time to explain.

So this is the nature and calibur of crap that seems to happen to me. I text my friends when it happens and sometimes I wonder if they even believe me. I am quite notorious for sending random texts. So read on if you like. I will try to post the happenings of my life as they occur.

Im out!