Evening gents.
When thinking about what to call this week's post, I suddenly realised I hit the half way mark on Saturday just gone. Fucking hell. Seems ridiculous. It's just going so fast, I don't want to waste another second.
I know I said I wasn't going to talk to much about my 4th of July with my parents, but my grandpa, and dad are such role models, I need to tell you a few stories.
So I drove to Chicago last Friday with my parents. Left at around 4pm, stopped to eat dinner at an Amish farm (very weird by the way). The worst part is my mum made me stop the car as an amish family went by in their cart so she could lean out the window and take photos. She shouts: 'excuse me, can you just stop so I can get a quick picture' I thought that I had grown out of being embarrassed by my mum, but she just keeps pushing the boat out there. Drive until 3am sleep in a services wake up and still have 6 hours to go! Ridiculously long way. Driving in America is fine if you don't have to be anywhere, otherwise, fly.
Story 1 about my grandpa: Wake up on Sunday morning and he's back from church. I ask him how it was. His response: " great, there was a new Japanese female priest, so I turned my hearing aid off, slept, woke up and ate free doughnuts" LAD!! Why the fuck else would you go to church-you please your wife, get to sleep, and eat for free!
Story 2: I'm heading into town with my grandma and mum. He asks where if I'm off with two women. Then he goes: "Boy, you aren't your grandpa, you couldn't handle two women at once. Boy, I bet you couldn't even handle one!" threesome loving grandpa.
Story 3: The man is on permanent oxygen for a lung condition so has to remained attached to a tank with tubes up his nose. This has meant his Tuesday drinks at the pub have had to stop. Does this stop him? No!! He calls it 'Stupid Tuesdays' Gets 8 of his best mates round to his, forces my grandma to put out snacks, gets her to mix a round of gins, and then tells her to go lie down for 3 hours. The 9 of them (this time including my dad and me) get stupidly drunk and chat about birds!! They are all about 95!
Story 1 about my dad: This really gave me new found respect for the man. At stupid Tuesday, one of my grandpa's friend's turns to me and says: 'boy, you want to hear a story about your dad?' Obviously I do. "Your dad was working for me back in the 70s. His first job out of school as a factory manager. A really shit job comes up in the middle of Oregon. No one wants to fucking do it, so we send your dad. I eventually felt so bad for the guy, I head out and check everything's ok. Get there and ask the client how he was doing. He tells me this: 'That son of a bitch is the best god damn factory manager I've worked with. I just have one issue with him....that cunt turns up to work from a different fucking direction every single day of the week'" LAD!!
Story 2: Same day, before stupid Tuesdays, my dad had been down at the local pub catching up with some school friends. So is fairly deep when he gets back. After stupid Tuesday, he is sloppy. Slurring every word imaginable. Too drunk to even make a dad gag. I've stopped drinking as I am driving home-expecting Robin the next day. Me and my dad go down to the pub for him to have another drink away from mum who has become more and more angry with him. He's steaming when we get back. I'm saying good bye to my family and he has passed out on a stool and proceeds, mid hug with my grandma, to fall off it. He gets up, proclaims he is ok, and tries to kiss my mum. She is having none of it, so decides to go and get my stuff to put in the car. He does it, on the way back into the house, decides he needs to pee, so does what any natural bloke would-go in the flower bed. Although, he picks the flowerbed outside the living room window. Me, my mum, his 2 sisters, his brother, my 2 cousins, their girlfriends, and his parents see him piss into the flower bed with a big grin on his face. Everyone saw his wang.
Reflecting on this story-this is the first time in my life it's clicked. I've always wondered what people talk about when they talk about their 'crazy inappropriate uncle'. I've never had one. I now realise the reason-I don't actually have one, my cousins do.
Role models.
Anyway on with my life.
When I was in Chicago, my two cousins had their birds with them. They are both smoking hot. A lot of my family asked me how it's going with American girls and I always responded with-oh you know, not too badly. My Aunt scoffed and told me that she didn't believe me with my accent. My youngest cousin has just finished 1st year uni. He was running back on his high school football team, and captain of the athletics club, competing in state championships. Prom king, the full works. He joined a frat and picked up the hottest sorority girl there is. Great face, massive cans, flat stomach, tiny waist, cracking rump, sensational pins. His elder brother's bird is not as hot, but a definite 1. I was sitting and chatting to them, ask them a question. They look at each other and giggle. Ask another, they giggle again. What is actually happening? Am I flirting with my cousin's birds at a family dinner? If I am, I'm doing really well! My cousins come and drag them away. One sits between me and them, and tells me to stop being so charming! I think I told her the dip she made is really nice and I asked her how she made it. This is my biggest success, yet greatest fear at the moment. Girls here like my accent-it makes it too easy. How am I going to get on when I get home?
Head into the city with my other cousin and his fiance for the fireworks. Get fairly drunk, best thing to come out of the evening, was a line my cousin told me- which was later put to great use- the next time a girl comments on your accent and asks you where you're from, just say, 'Ohio' and see what they do.
Get back to mine at 1 on Wednesday. My MD is here again. Robin is meant to be coming up for a couple nights. I'm excited. Then disaster! Voice message off Robin saying he has broken down in Virginia and won't be able to make it! Balls! Was looking forward to that. Especially since he had never been out in the US before (although I think he has now. Robin-how was it?) Hit the town with my MD. 4 21 year old girls walk into the bar, just as I am going to the toilet. Walk out, and he's over there giving it a go! Go over and start chatting. Vaguely ok, but then they leave. We get the opportunity to go to amateur night at the strip club with two guys I play rugby with. Would be pretty awkward with him, so I decline. Had we had more than 1 beer we tell ourselves, we would have done it.
Get in around 2. Struggle through work. Robin might be coming up Thursday for the night. But again disappointment, car not yet fixed. So I hit the town with 3 mates from rugby-Jeff, Brendon and Pat. Get pretty drunk, decide I actually am low on chat that night (perhaps because of my hangover, perhaps because Robin never came?) so I decide to get more pissed. Head to a bar with a dance floor. Leaning at the bar, offering nothing to the world. I tell Pat I have no chat. He doesn't understand me. All seems lost. One last ditch effort, I tap a girl on the shoulder and ask if she wants a shot.
'Oh my god, you have an accent, where are you from?'
'Ohio'
'No way your not from Ohio!'
'You got me, I'm actually British'
'Oh my god, let's go outside so we can talk more'
Seriously, that's all it took. I didn't even buy her a shot. Head down a back ally to find her car. She claims all her friends have ditched her. She sits on her car. I ask what she does, she works in PR but wants to be a singer.
'Cool, let's hear you sing'
She sings me a song she's written about her dead cousin. It's terrible, she sounds like moose. My drunken state wants to throw things at her to make her stop. My penis tells me that I need to say I like it if I want to fuck her. Always trust your penis. It knows best.
'That was really good'
'Yeah? You want to hear another?'
'Do I ever!'
She sings another. Dead cousin again. I don't listen. She has a passable face and gigantic cans. Literally whoppers. I watch these instead. She doesn't notice as she has shut her eyes as she has got really into her song.
She sings another-this time a bit happier-a failed relationship.
I can't take any more. I go 100% cheesy. 'Your singing makes me want to kiss you' (I know! I nearly threw up when I was writing this, but I had to stop her from singing!) It works, I kiss her. Tell her she should stay at mine as her friends are gone, she's far too drunk to drive, and I can give her a lift to her car the next morning.
Get back to mine. I go get something to eat. Turn around and she's gone. Go look for her. Find her in the bath tub, sitting there naked. Amazing, she has done the hard bit for me. I waste no time in stripping off and jumping in. I wash her hair. She tries to sing again, so I splash water in her face. Take her to my bedroom and growl her out. She's nice and clean which makes a really nice difference. I try all my new moves I learnt from the bird that blogged about me, and they go down a storm. She gets a condom and I fuck her.
Wake up the next morning, get ready for work, drive her to her car, take her number in a customary fashion and head to the office. Get a text off her half way through the day-I don't respond. My boss wants to come round and get her pie smashed Friday night. Why not? I'm not doing anything, I have rugby 7s the next day and then am going to a baseball game the next night. I take a really smelly dump in the office and something doesn't feel right all day- I have an arse hole like the Japanese flag. I need to shower to soothe the pain that evening before my boss comes round. Go back to mine 15 mins before her to take care of business. Shower, then my phone rings. I assume it's my boss, so I don't look at the number. Fuck it's the girl from last night. She's telling me how she has never had sex with anyone who she doesn't know the last name of before. She goes on and on and on. I need to end the call. I see my boss pull up outside my house. I'm panicking. How do I end the call, still get to fuck her again if I need to and not let my boss find out? I don't know why I do this. I start coughing. Really hacking up phlegm and making sure she hears how much pain I'm in. I gasp: I'll have to ring you back, as she walks through my front door. I hang up without waiting for a response. I don't even know if this was successful as I still haven't rung her back. Or reply to her messages. I think she's stalking me.
Wake up Saturday ready for rugby. There is a thunderstorm. Jeff rings me-he's no longer going. Friend from work who I'm going to the baseball with rings me-no longer going! Gash. I do some serious sitting all day watching TV. Read about a guy called Tucker Max, I recommend his website if you haven't heard of him. Basically he is famous for writing a blog about him being a lad.
Friend from work, Claire, her boyfriend, Theo and her room mate Stacey are coming round later to go out. They are all staying at mine, so I naturally plan to hook up with Stacey. Stacey turns out to just be a 1 after 2 beers. Sitting round at mine with the two girls, so we have a glass of wine and start talking about pipes. Tell them about my black friend, Jeff's, pipe. They are intrigued, especially after I tell them he was voted best looking black guy in uni 2 years in a row. Show them a photo, he is holding a baby in his facebook photo, this adds to his swelling reputation (gag). They like what they see, so I send him a message asking for a couple of pipe shots to show the girls. As it's 1 am his time, he doesn't respond, however, I am hoping he will get home, check his facebook hammered and think it a good idea. Alas, it wasn't to be.
Go out, get hammered. Start doing rounds of double gin and tonics. This is essentially 5 shots of gin with tonic in a pint glass. I have 4. 20 shots of gin deep and 5 pints, I am feeling it. Start playing 5s with Pat, Jeff (who have met us) and Theo. I have to pull Stacey and then ask her if she's wet. I go over, force myself on her lips. She says 'that wasn't a proper kiss!' so I pull her again, this time she tongues me back 'Are you wet?' A very resounding no. I then lose again. Ask a woman what size her bra is. Nearly get hit. I feel like my American friends have started to use me as bait. They send me into packs of girls, get me to say something stupid, then come over and apologise for me. Fair enough, I am prone to that kind of behaviour with our really weird friend back home-Tubso. I met tubso when Jack came up for a recruitment evening and we managed to bully him into doing 6 shots of vodka in a row, and laughing at how drunk he got. He is short, fat and sweaty, yet refuses to take off his gillet, ever. He is really socially awkward. Perfect for the situation I now find myself in.
Head to the bar where I met that girl 2 nights before. I am so drunk I need to leave. Walk back down that back ally and spend the next 30 minutes throwing my guts up. Head back to the bar feeling better and hit the dance floor. Dance with a couple 100% 0s. Head to the after hours members club and bump into the girl who works in the cafe at my work. Awesome, wouldn't it be funny if I got with her? This time around, I'm far to drunk to think my head, all I had was my dick. So yeah. I start chatting. Going well. I pull her. Victorious, I walk away to go find my friends. I can't find my friends. Head to the loo, and get an overwhelming urge to take a dump. I really hammer it out in some very grotty toilets. Go back and try to find cafe girl, but can't. Just as well, there is no way I've wiped properly. I've always considered her a 1, and now maybe she will give me free sandwiches. She didn't believe I was from Ohio either. Not surprising, as I've told her I'm English when chatting to her at work.
Head home. Try one more time to get with Stacey, but Jeff and Pat are there. We all have the same idea. I wake up spooning Pat. Shit.
The next day, head over to Theo's house. It's sunny and hot so lay by his pool all day. Plan on getting home for the world cup. But Theo wants to show me his guns. Head out into the forest and I shoot his hand gun and his rifle at a target on a tree. It's such an odd feeling. I've shot guns before, but only at ranges, and under very controlled conditions. This was so surreal.
Head to the bar for the world cup final. Get really jealous as a mate from work flew into Barcelona that morning on business. He was very non responsive to my calls on Monday.
I'm heading up to Boston to see a friend this weekend, which should be good fun. Not sure what kind of lash time I'll get in with her, so next week's blog may be a bit tame. In sadder news, my friend Jaron's dad died 2 nights ago, so he has flown back to England. Wish him and his family all the best. This was another reason why I wanted to share with you the 5 stories from what my dad, who posing for a photo with me and my grandpa, called in his very drunken state, 3 generations of Gin bags.
Happy hunting
Peter.
