Cisco, The Homeless Homeboy

On my way to work this morning, I randomly thought about one of the guy's my buddies and I hung out with in college...especially on Sunday's during football season. And with the start of the NFL 2013-2014 season upon us, flashbacks hit me like a motherfucker.

The dudes name was Cisco. I never knew his last name but what I did know was that this motherfucker was a bum. Like 100%, straight-up homeless person. Homeless. That ate out of trash cans from time to time and shit. Never showered. Barely changed. Asked for money. Slept in parks and under freeways. Walked around with a goddamn shopping cart full of cans, bottles, a blow-up doll and other shit you don't want to know about. A bum with no fucks to give, but had more friends than some of my friends on fucking Facebook. Straight up.

I met this guy through my two homeboys in college. Now, how they met Cisco, beats the living shit out of me. All I know is that I was hanging out with a bum (which at the time was pretty fucking cool), every Sunday, during every Raiders game, at our hangout across the street from my apartment. You might have heard of it? The Shack. You know, the place that Laci and Scott Peterson owned before he went fucking crazy and took that poor girl's life (ok, enough with the sad story, on with my friend, Cisco the bum).

Every Sunday, my buddies and I would meet our homeless homeboy at our spot to watch the morning games. Basically, when we arrived at 9:30am, we never left that place before 10pm. Cisco was the only fucking dude in San Luis Obispo, CA who wore snow overalls, big ass boots, a Raiders parka and a Raiders cap...in 75-85 degree weather! I never saw this motherfucker sweat which always tripped me out. Made me think he was a fucking eskimo or something. Don't know why I pointed that out since I know he's a bum and is short on his wardrobe attire. My bad.

Anyway, here we are, 3 grown ass college men and Cisco, getting ready to watch the games and enjoy another day of some goddamn football. The amazing thing about Cisco was how much the dude knew about sports and shit in this world. Sure the dude was a fucking bum and smelled like sweaty ass feet and 4 day old urine with a hint of armpit and taint, but his knowledge kinda blew me the fuck away. Then again, I wasn't exactly the brightest motherfucker back then either. I mean, I'm hanging out with a bum every Sunday for fucks sake, right? Who does that and thinks it's normal? Only your boy, the Ghetto Genius, and his degenerate fucking friends.

What was probably the icing on the cake about Cisco, was this one Sunday when we got absolutely shitfaced. I'm talking some white girl wasted shit with probably one meal ordered between 4 of us and a shit ton of peanuts consumed to make it look like we weren't full blown alcoholics. I think I might have ordered a salad a little later and left that shit on the table so it didn't look like we were just drinking our goddamn lives away. That fucking thing probably sat there for a minimum of 6 fucking hours until, Cisco, surprise surprise, ate that shit like it was the greatest greens on earth. Dude didn't even use a fork...just ate that shit like it was some finger foods. Anyway, where the fuck was I? Aaaaah, that's right, the game.

The Raiders were playing the Patriots in the playoffs that year (tuck rule game...BTW - fuck you Tom Brady, you pussy!), and that morning we decided to go our spot a half hour earlier then we usually go. Why, on that very day, did this motherfucker Cisco buy us not 1 pitcher, not 2 pitchers, not even 3 pitchers...but 8 PITCHES OF BEER and get us completely fucking drunk before the afternoon games? He's a fucking homeless dude that sleeps under a fucking freeway off the 101, eats garbage every damn day, doesn't shower, smells like a rhino's dirty asshole, and just dropped $75 on 3 other guys and himself. WTF?! To top it off, dude had a sack of weed that he wanted us all to smoke outside with him. (Note, I did not participate in the smoking of the ganja since I start seeing shit once I inhale - true story). Now, I'm assuming the weed he had was probably made up of some fucking dry ass dirt, mowed lawn, dog shit, fresh ground pepper, cumin, garlic and paprika but hey, dude had a sack of something that obviously made you see something that wasn't right.

So while there was a break b/t the action in games, the fellas and Cisco went outside to smoke a joint and I sat there in silence. I said to myself, "I'm fucking whiskey dick drunk and I owe it all to a guy that has to beg for money and probably wipes his ass with newspaper. I have a fucking job, I go to college, and a homeless dude just took care of me getting hammered on playoff Sunday. THAT.IS.AWESOME. I wonder if he has $20 I can borrow?" And being the drunk fuck that I was, I actually asked him. He told me to fuck off while throwing something that looked like possible dick cheese at me, but could you blame a brother for asking?

Cisco the bum is definitely a legend in San Luis Obispo, CA. More importantly, Cisco is the coolest bum I have ever fucking met. Cheers Cisco...you toothless, money making, homeless motherfucker!

Trust Your Gut Or You Will Pay The Price

At the time, I was a butcher. She was a deli barista (you're welcome). We never said a word to each other the whole time we both worked at the supermarket. The only thing I did was smile and day dream of my face being planted right between her legs while she watched Ya-Ya Sisterhood, ate Bon Bons and moaned like a mermaid if she were to fuck a tiger shark. It was nothing more than a vision of what I wanted but had doubt for reasons unknown.

Then it happened...

Deli Barista: "Hey J, soooooo...wanna go out tonight for a drink?"

Me: *stares deep into her tits*

Deli Barista: "You know I can see you staring at my tits, right?"

Me: "I wasn't staring...I was thinking. Ok, I was staring. Love the black bra on you, by the way. Yeah, let's go grab a drink."

Fast forward to later that night...

We're at the bar having a good time. As bad as I wanted to get this chick "fuck me" drunk, I didn't. Why? Because something wasn't feeling right. Something told me to have a good time and just "see what happens". About an hour later, she starts up the shots. Body shots. How could I say no to this, right? There was her body, there was my tequila...being sucked off her body. Three shots in, she says, "Let's go back to your place..."

IT WAS ON!!!!

Thinking that this was going to be like any other sexcapade, it wasn't. Shit, not even close. What started off as hot and heavy kissing like the beginning of a soft core porn on Cinemax ended up being a really long and drawn out make-out and dry boning session like two high school kids at someones grandparents house. True story.

Was this chick a virgin? Does she not fuck on the first date? Is this even a fucking date? Don't dates include dinner and conversations about blow jobs? Fuck...does this bitch like me? We haven't said a word in 6 months to one another so how could she like me...I mean, I do have a nice smile so I can see why bitches might like a brother. Is she gonna wanna play Dr. Dry Bone all goddamn night? What the fuck is up?!

Never been more confused in my life people. EVER.

I know women. I know what they like, what they don't. What turns them off. What turns them on. When it's sexy time. When it's period time. When they are crazy. When I should run. But this chick...I COULD NOT FIGURE HER OUT FOR THE LIFE OF ME!!!

Again, it was that feeling I had.

As embarrassed as I am to admit, we dry boned and made out for two hours. I finally went to the bathroom and when I went to take a piss, I noticed that my dick looked like a bratwurst ran over three times, kicked around like a soccer ball during youth league and flourescent red like a fresh STD compliments of a whore house located in the Tenderloin in San Francisco. I was over it. I was bored. I wanted her out. I head back to my bedroom and what do you fucking know...the bitch is asleep. Well played, twat. Well played. I get in bed and crash out for the night.

The next day...

Throughout the night I was having dreams that someone was doing weird shit to me that I couldn't make out but knew was fucked up. It almost felt like it was really fucking happening. Around 6:30am I woke up and my dreams, became REALITY.

When I opened my eyes, there was that bitch staring at me. Not with this look of, "Good morning honey. You're so amazing." Fuck no. I'm talking a look that said, "I've been watching you sleep ALLLLL night as I was plotting our next date and thinking of ways to kill you, without you even feeling it. Who wants breakfast?"

I didn't know what to say so I looked around. My laundry basket was open. She had a pair of my dirty ass boxers in her hand.

Deli Barista: "So who is she?"

Me: "Who's who?"

Deli Barista: "Don't act dumb. I knew you were a player. Who is the bitch you slept with this week?"

Me: "Have you lost your mind, bitch?"

Deli Barista: "Don't change the subject, J. Who is she and when did you fuck her? How would you explain these cum stains on your boxers and the smell of her vagina?" *as she takes a big whiff right in front of me* I think she might have been turned on...I know I was. Wait, what?

Me: "Ok, bitch. Check this out. If I'm on Punk'd, I suggest you tell me NOW because if you're not, your ass needs to go."

Deli Barista: "Well I suggest you answer my question. I can't believe I was going to let you fuck me too."

Me: "Fuck you? My dick looks like a horror movie right now. The closest thing we were to fucking was my tongue going in your mouth. Get the hell out, crazy spice."

Deli Barista: "So now I'm crazy? I AM NOT CRAZY. You are just an asshole who fucks bitches and gets away with it."

Me: "I'm so confused crazy chick from Fatal Attraction. Did you forget to take your medication today? Who are you?"

At that very moment, I started to look around the room even more. My box of condoms that I don't even use (because I am Pro Raw Dog) was opened and every single package was cut up. I'm talking unwrapped to the longest dick length then trimmed from every fucking angle. Lying on the floor like a goddamn art project. All 12 of them. By guess who? Yup, crazy bitch.

My bottle of KY (for masturbation AND her pleasure purposes) squeezed the fuck out all over my carpet. That shit was brand new too.

People, this bitch went "50 shades of what the fuck" on me and I should have seen the signs from the beginning. What those signs were, I have no fucking idea. Something just didn't seem to feel right. While all this was going on as she kept refusing to leave, over and over again, she kept smelling my boxers and saying, "I know this is the scent of vagina! Who did you fuck asshole?!?!?!"

FLASHBACK...

I was at a party right before I started my butcher job. I was wasted. Met two chicks. Both sisters. They were down to ride the Pound Town Express trifecta style. However, one sister looked at me all night, not like she wanted to fuck me, rather, take my kidneys out and leave me for dead behind a Taco Bell. I told the other sister I just wanted to bang her into O-blivion (see what I did there?) because her sister looked like she was going to eat my dick rather than suck it. And I quote, "Yeah, she can be a little jealous at times when she's with me. She does weird shit that I don't even want to get into." I take the good sister back to my pad and was banging her ever since.

Then it hit me...

THE CRAZY SISTER WAS DELI BARISTA.

When I finally realized that, she knew. She also knew I was STILL banging her sister. How? Because like a drug dog, she apparently was smelling sister panties for quite some time and noticed that same scent on my boxers. Gotta be honest, not two vaginas smell alike and this broad came Dog The Bounty Hunter, correct. No fucking joking. This bitch went on a manhunt to get answers...but answers she did not get. I kept my mouth shut but had the look of so much guilt that I farted and told her she needed to leave before I shit myself on the rug.

She got her shit, took my boxers as a trophy and headed for the door. But before finally leaving, she told me this:

"I just want to know why you didn't want to have a threesome that night and just bang my sister instead?"

My response: "Tell me something...why did your last relationship end?"

Deli Barista: "Because I wanted my boyfriend all to myself. I was jealous and according to him, 'unstable.'"

Me: "You watched me sleep, sniffed through my crusty ass boxers, cut up all my condoms and poured out all my KY. You are one Lifetime marathon away from killing a motherfucker. Does that answer your question?"

She quit her job and I never saw her crazy ass again.

The moral of the story: If your gut is telling you something isn't right, it's probably because something isn't right or you gotta take a shit. Listen to your gut - it's one of the only things you can trust.

SLO Up From the Flo Up

Like any trip to SLO (San Luis Obispo), it became one for the ages this past weekend. Not because it's where I went to college for 5 years but...ok, it's because I went to college there so fuck you...happy? What can I say, it's the first place I got to experience being an adult and having my first beer. Look at me now mom and dad, I'm a complete piece of shit. College did me well! But I digress...

This weekend I was down there for a golf tourney. And even though I can't play golf for shit, I can still be a winner. How? It's simple...BRING 3 RINGERS. And that I did. Not only were they ringers, but mother fuckers that like to drink. To me, you can have all the goddamn talent in the world, if you don't booze, I won't even consider you. Why the fuck should I, right? It's like you having a sign posted on your fucking chest that says, "Giving away free AIDS." Fuck all that shit. I need talent that will not only help me look good on the golf course, but party with me so I won't be the only one blacking out all night.

On our way into town, me and the 3 MuskaRingers hit up a golf course in Paso Robles...Hunter Ranch. A nice course for you fucking golf snobs out there, that like to wear collard shirts and drink $8 bottled water. Hey, I wasn't paying for shit so it's all good. Anyway, long story short, we golfed and fucked that course up. Well, not me, my other 3 amigos did. But the best part wasn't even the golfing. It was the 8 Bloody Mary's, 48 beers, 2 cans of chew and the goddamn swarm of bees that whizzed on by the 12th green. Not sure if any of you have seen that shit up close and personal but that freaked me the fuck out. There I was, drunk, screaming like a little bitch as 1,000 bees were migrating to some place to call home. It was like a scene from the movie, "Candyman" except no one got a big ass hook stuck in their ass. I have no clue if that even happened in the movie, it just sounded like something appropriate to say. Honestly, the only thing I remember from that movie, were a shit ton of bees and some scary ass black dude fucking people up. Anyway...

So we finish our round, hop in the car and head south to lovely S-L-O. We get in about 6:30pm, grab a beer at the hotel happy hour then head downtown to go grab some sushi. Keep in mind at this point, we've all put down enough booze to kill a fucking mountain lion and a few cubs. I won't bore you with details on what we ate so I'll get to the good part...5 tall bottles of Sapporo and 10 bottles of Sake. GONE! I mean, the sake tasted like shit, but when you're in a college town and you're the 4 oldest mother fuckers in this restaurant...beggers can't be choosers, right? Next stop...Mother's Tavern. Ooops, my bad...it's got a new gay ass fucking name: Mo-Tav.

We find a spot at this place and before any of us head to the bar, we all agree that we should have one more drink and call it a night. But who the fuck were we kidding? We've been drinking since 1:30pm and it's now 10:30pm. So, as I always do, I agree, but tell the guys, "Well let me at least get the "one" round." They nod, I go to the bar and come back with 4 pints of double Red Bull/Vodka's (just a side note, in 5 hours, I decided to take three 5 Hour Energy's because apparently, "they weren't working"). What was suppose to be "one last drink", turned into:

- 5 rounds of Jameson shots
- 3 more double Red Bull/Vodka's
- Shots of some shit that looked like piss but tasted like shit
- Cheering on two Latin bitches that were basically fucking each other on the dance floor
- Freaking some chick in a wheelchair
- Asking the bartender if I could make a sandwich in the kitchen...about 50 times.

Once it was all said and done, I found myself alone...separated from my Three Amigos eating three pieces of pepperoni pizza from Woodstock's, walking back to the hotel. It was 1:45am and I'm pretty sure I drunk dialed everyone in my phone including my mom. Matter of fact, I know I drunk dialed my mom because I think I left a message telling her I was drunk and was about to get ass pounded by a very large feminine man in the drunk tank. Sorry mom. You know, when you roam the streets by yourself wasted, you do things you never thought you would do when sober. Like, go to 7-11 and spend $30. What the fuck would you spend $30's on, J? Good question. Apparently I bought all this for 30 singles:

- Four 5 Hour Energy's
- 2 Spicy Hot Burrito's
- A big bag of Chili Cheese Frito's and Flaming Hot Cheeto's
- A tuna sandwich
- Gum (lost it on the way to the hotel)
- Gummy worms (ate the whole pack on the way to the hotel)
- Cup 'O Noodles
- 2 bottles of water

Finally, I get back to the hotel. Drunk as shit. Still hungry as fuck. Confused like a virgin, fucking a Cheese 'n Broccoli Hot Pocket...I needed to go the fuck to sleep because in 3 hours, I was heading back out to play more golf. Then my buddy decided to wake up...

Have you ever seen somebody sleepwalk? The better question is, have you ever seen somebody sleepwalk naked knowing they were intoxicated? Well I have, and that shit was the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my goddamn life, people. Look, I may have done some shit in my lifetime that was really weird and fucked up. But whatever I did, would never top this. EVER. Ok, I might be lying just a little. Anyway...It's almost 3am and I'm sitting at a table eating one of my 20 bags of fucking chips when this mother fucker decides to wake up. Butt ass fucking naked. Here I am, thinking he was getting up to grab a drink of water or head to the bathroom...oh no...in exactly 2 minutes time, this dude opened up the closet, pull out two hangers, grab .85 cents in change, threw that shit at me from 10 feet away, turned around, opened up a cabinet and took a piss in it...all while swaying side to side like his dick was watering some plants. I sat there...a handful of fucking chips in my mouth...coat hangers chillin' by my feet...3 quarters and a dime scattered across the floor...and my buddy taking a goddamn leak in the living room. Not giving two fucking shits in the world.

He went back to bed without saying one fucking word to me that night. I went to bed too. As for the piss on the carpet and inside the cabinet...no one cleaned it up because quite frankly, there was no reason to. And if you want to know how we did in the golf tourney the very next day...we won that shit - DRUNK. The rest, is fucking history.

Mount Gay - A Barf Story

This isn't your typical run-of-the-mill story.  This is a flashback that has haunted me for years. 10 years to be exact. 2 roommates, one shot, and a packed bar/restaurant in San Luis Obispo, CA.  Every year around this time, something reminds me of this awful night my junior year in college.

It was early, probably about 8pm on a Friday night. A group of guys went to Madison's and I decided to hit up my spot, Hudson's. About an hour passes and for some reason, everyone came back feeling pretty good except my roommate Chris. Was he drunk? No. He was just buzzed...really, really fucking buzzed. Ok, call it border-line drunk. The place is packed and my friends and I take over the bar. Keep in mind, everyone is either buzzed or drunk (ok, maybe only Chris), and I've only had maybe one 22oz of that delicious Budweiser. I'll get to the point before I bore everyone to death and I start getting hate mail...

A conversation comes up about the weird names of the bottles that are at the bar (for instance, Tequila Monster - it's a Tequila Schnapp's...WTF) and all of the sudden we notice this bottle of Mount Gay Rum. We're a bunch of college jerkoffs and we didn't really know that Mount Gay Rum actually was tastey. We were just cracking up at the fact that someone would actually call this rum, Mount Gay, so we decide to buy my drunk roomie, Chris, a gay shot (BTW - I have nothing against the gay community, it just so happens that the rum is called Mount Gay. I love gay people...but not in a gay way, that's all)! But I digress...

Fast forward...

Chris finally takes this shot but really struggles. I mean, shit is leaking out the sides of his mouth and his eyes are watering at this point. And from what we can tell, he probably only downed half. We all get a good laugh and start giving the guy shit! I need to take a leak so I say to everyone, "Hey, I gotta take a leak, so pound your drinks and we'll head out to another bar when I get back." I get out of my seat, push in my chair next to my buddy Jack (he's sitting to my right), take one step towards the bathroom and all of the fucking sudden, Chris just unleashes the god awful fury on my face, head and body! The son of a bitch was standing behind Jack and waits for me to walk 6 inches in front of him to start puking. Chaos breaks out from there...

The puking is so fucking violent and loud that 5 things happen all at once:

1 - Customers that are enjoying their lovely dinners (some were probably on a first date, looks like those poor bastards didn't get laid that night) are fucking screaming bloody murder at my roommate to stop. Seriously, if anyone can stop in mid-puke, I'll give you 3 fucking dollars right now!

2 - The puke that's slapping my face, head and body, ricochet off Jack's back and onto the bartender's (Pete) neck. Poor fucking guy had to wear his work shirt for the rest of the night I bet.

3 - My friends are laughing their fucking asses off the whole time I'm getting spewed on. These sons of bitches said the best part about this was it looked like it was in slow motion...Fuck you guys for laughing! Friends don't treat friends like that.

4 - The restaurant manager (who by the way looks like Large Marge from Pee-Wee's Big Adventure) is screaming at Chris to stop puking on my face and asking her staff to get a mop ready.

5 - I'm taking it all in. Every fucking single piece of puke. This shit is coming from all different directions. If I could describe what carrots felt like hitting your face when it blasted from the depths of someone elses large intestine, I would. I'm also thinking, "Looks like that chick I've been giving the googly eye to since I got here, might not want my number now." Lets not forget to mention the chance on the piece of ass I was hoping to get this very night, just went from a solid 92.76% to a very pathetic, -63.89%.

This bastard probably pukes for a good 25-35 seconds (that's a long fucking time when you are getting thrown up on) all over me. I don't move and just let him go to town on my face, head and body (all 6 inches away). He finally stops, and everyone is silent waiting for me to say something...anything! I open my mouth and just yell the words, "MY ROOMMATE JUST THREW UP ON MY FUCKING FACE! MY ROOMMATE JUST THREW UP ON MY FUCKING HEAD AND BODY!" I dart to the bathroom and at this point I'm trying not to throw up. I smell like something you would catch on your feet in Tijuana, and I am speechless on what just happened. Drunk ass Chris walks in the bathroom, looks at me and says (I kid you fucking not), "Bro, if I had to throw up on anyone, I'm glad I threw up on you bro! Don't worry, I ate veggies and filet mignon tonight." Are you fucking kidding me?! "I ate fucking veggies and filet mignon tonight?" I'm about to throw up in this dudes mouth and he's so fucking drunk that he has no clue what just went down. And that's what you came to tell me you fucking cock smoker?!

15 minutes fly by and I get as clean as I possibly can. I seriously try to walk out of the bathroom all cool and shit but it's not working. Every single eyeball followed me from the bathroom back to my chair. The fucking place looked like a murder scene and everyone just witnessed a killing on my face, head and upper torso! We bounce out and the last 2 things I remember were this:

1 - My buddy Ben lights a cigarette, takes a hit, looks at me and just starts fucking yacking across the street (still holding his cigarette in hand too). His only words were, "Bro, you smell like fucking shit, you pussy!"

2 - Me taking a 45 minute shower, and using 10 Q-Tips to clean out my right ear.

Fuck My Life on that sad ass day in San Luis Obispo, CA circa 2000...