When I was a kid (and slightly older), my friends and I were guilty of doing many things that would flat-out infuriate me if some little shit pulled the same stunt on me today. Like throwing stuff at cars, for instance.
I went through a period when I threw a lot of rocks. I was very good at it, and could hurl one a full city block, hit an aluminum carport dead center, and create an amazing amount of hilarious noise. I once threw a rock at an awning during a Jr. High gym class (with the oblivious coach right there), and while riding a roller coaster at Camden Park (hit it!). Oh, I was a master, and had advanced to the level of stunt-throwing.
But flinging stuff at cars is a whole different ball game. Of course it’s more difficult to hit a moving target, but there was also the chance we could get our asses kicked. And that last part added a new layer of excitement to our “hobby.”
I never really threw rocks at cars, because that would’ve been crazy, but I let-loose with a bunch of other stuff. And below I’ll briefly tell you about some of the highlights, and you guys can take it from there. Hopefully a few of you were also juvenile delinquents, or encountered one or two during your travels, and we can get some good stories out of the subject…
One afternoon, during my paperboy days, I was picking up my bundle of newspapers at the “stop” in front of Steve’s house. I was down on my knees, stuffing Charleston Daily Mails into a canvas bag, when I suddenly (without premeditation or forethought) flung a handful of gravel at a passing panel truck.
The shower of tiny rocklets made a hell of a racket against the side of the truck, and the driver SLAMMED on his brakes. It sounded like a dining room hutch turned over in the back, glass shattered, and the dude jumped out of the cab all belligerent and red in the ears. Uh oh.
“Who did that? Who threw shit at my truck?!” he demanded, and we all just shrugged like we had no idea what he was talking about. The guy was fully incensed and said, “Fukkit, I’m calling the law!” Then he walked straight into Steve’s neighbors’ house(!) shouting, “Where’s your phone?! Where the hell’s your phone?”
My friend Vincent and I saw an opening, and took off with my newspapers. We went across the railroad tracks, and hid out inside the men’s room of Strickland’s 76 gas station, until the heat was off. Then we took care of my paper route, like any other day, chuckling about all the prior excitement.
And when I was almost finished, after Vincent had already headed home, Steve’s mother pulled up in her brown car and started yelling at me. Just yelling and yelling… I think she was even angrier than the guy with the exploded china cabinet, or whatever.
I’m pretty sure my parents were told about the incident, as well, but I can’t remember getting into too much trouble over it. I mean, seriously. In the universe of all the shit I pulled, that was but a tiny moon of Jupiter. But Steve’s mom still doesn’t see the humor, even in 2010. Heh.
One sweaty, hot-ass summer night, a few of us were out roaming the streets after dark. We came across an apple tree with a ton of little green apples around it. Somehow it was decided it might be kind of fun to hide in the alley, and throw spherical fruit at passing cars.
A serious miscalculation…
We hit a few cars, their brake lights came on, and they continued on their journey. This caused us to snicker, and wait for the next car to arrive. One guy actually got out, and yelled into the abyss. He couldn’t see us, but we could see him. Man, it was great! We were having a blast.
Then, as so often happens, we took it too far. We should’ve cashed in our chips, and called it a night. But the fun continued. And we ended up throwing apples – and hitting – a car owned by a couple of scary-ass criminal brothers.
These guys were capable of anything, and their car was full of other roughneck psychopaths, as well. They’d surely kill us, there was no doubt about it. It sounded like ten or twelve apples hit their piece of junk, even though there were only four of us throwing. It just kept going and going.
We all just about pressure-shat our Fruit of the Looms the moment we realized what we’d done, and everyone scattered.
The car started down the alley with the headlights on, moving slowly, with a once and future murderer walking on each side. It reminded me of the Secret Service, and the Presidential motorcade. I was hiding in a hedge not five feet from the alley itself, and it was one of the scariest things I’ve ever experienced. I was literally afraid for my life.
Occasionally one of them would yell some threat, and claim to see us, but they continued on past and nothing happened. They were probably half-baked as a result of gasoline huffing or somesuch, and that undoubtedly worked to our advantage. But holy shit, was it frightening. I thought for sure one of them would hear my pounding heart, and a deer hunter would find my skeleton in a few months.
Throwing apples at cars is a questionable activity, to be sure, but one Halloween night I witnessed something worse.
A bunch of us were out riding in Bill’s pickup truck, throwing eggs at houses, etc. And during the evening additional egg-throwers were recruited. It started with the usual crew, but eventually we had a couple of girls with us. It was highly unorthodox…
And I remember us riding up Fairlawn Avenue, which is a busy two-lane road on which cars travel at roughly 60 mph. We were STANDING in the bed of the truck, leaning against the cab, and hurling eggs whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Then one of the girls started winging them at oncoming cars. She’d throw them almost straight down, right into the middle of their windshields, with great force. We were going 60, they were going 60 in the opposite direction…
I couldn’t believe it; it was insanity. I started hollering for her to knock it off, but she continued. I was certain one of those cars would go airborne, start cartwheeling down the road, and every one of us would be charged with murder.
Yeah, and that’s what you get when you invite non-professionals into the operation. Nothing bad happened, but it most certainly could’ve. Sheesh. There’s stupid, and then there’s stupid… The code of delinquency had been flagrantly violated.
And, of course, we threw hundreds and hundreds of snowballs at cars. That was our winter sport. We’d sometimes get chased, and it was always a good time. I wish I could still do it, in fact. But society frowns on 47 year old men who engage in such activities. Wotta rip-off.
We used to have a game of sorts, involving the local cab company. It was called Curry Taxi, and we kept track of the number of times we hit one of their cars, and tried to outdo each other.
I remember one evening Steve and I were walking near his house, and we saw a Curry Taxi crossing the tracks at 16th Street. Steve got all excited, scooped up some snow, and packed it as he ran. He crossed the elevated railroad tracks, up one side and down the other, and the cab was right there.
Still in a full-sprint, Steve wound-up and hurled the snowball sidearm, like freaking Kent Tekulve, right into the door of the car. The thing was only five feet away from him when he threw it, and it made a fantastic THUMP! when it hit. It was a thing of beauty…
The driver didn’t even stop, probably because he was so used to being abused, and Steve and I couldn’t stop laughing. It was fantastic, and I think Steve was awarded extra points for his effort.
But as loud as the Curry Taxi thump was, nothing could compare to a snowball thrown by Bill. He could throw harder than any of us, and would often produce awesome results.
I remember him hitting a car while I was delivering newspapers one day, and it sounded like the entire quarter panel collapsed. It wasn’t just a THUMP, there was also an element of crumpling steel, of a fender going full-concave.
The driver slammed on his brakes and came after us, moving at a pretty good clip. I tossed my paper bags aside, and we took off. He didn’t catch us, of course, but I can still remember the sound of that Nolan Ryan snowball hitting metal. Man, it was incredible.
Yeah, and I could go on and on with these stories, but this thing is already way too long. If you have anything to add to a conversation about throwing shit at cars, please use the comments section below. Or maybe you were the hitee? We need to know about it, either way.
And I’ll see you guys again tomorrow.
Have a great day!
Me ???
I’ve never thrown things but my brother and his stupid friends used to have rock fights. There were plenty of bloody faces and a few stitches involved.
I never really understood the fun in it….
Good Afternoon Surf Reporters….
Red clay bombs were our weapon of choice.
Nickle!!!
We use to throw rocks at cars, and then see who would stand there the longest without running away when the car turned around and came back to get us.
I don’t think I should say anything more about that sort of stuff on here.
I believe that this sort of activity is categorized as domestic terrorism these days….
We never did that across here.
Thankfully none of the ‘youf’ do it either.
‘Sheesh!’
Of course, now a days, kids record that sort of stuff using cameras, so they get busted easier.
Damn teenagers with your rock and roll, and hurling of objects upon the elderly.
We use to throw rocks at ducks and then police cars would suddenly appear! Of course, we never hit any of the ducks. Nobodies aim was that good and the ducks just moved out further in the river out of range.
Tennis Balls! They let out a thunderous clap when hitting a car – yet leave little to no evidence/dent.
There were probably a few but the one memory that sticks in my mind is rolling a golf ball down the driveway trying to time it so it went under a car that drove down the street. Once it hitt he bottom of a car and bounced of the street and car bottom quite a few times as the car eventually stopped. We high tailed it and hid in the woods behind my house and the guy yelled out to us from the grass line. He eventually came back while we were eating dinner and told my parents. My brother and I blamed it on the other two guys with us…fun times.
I never threw anything at cars. But then in the no horse town I grew up in if you were seen on the one street running through then you were automatically up to no good.
We did throw strange things at each other for shits & giggle s though. Depending on what season it was we would have watermelon fights, where we would throw overripe watermelons at each other. Other times of the year we would throw golf ball sized rotten blackberries at each other. Those blackberries would stain your skin for days.
Oh, I did throw a rock a a greenhouse once, it hit a window and broke it and I still feel bad about breaking some old guys stuff.
Oh, and I nailed a swan in the face with a hush puppy once. It’s body didn’t move, but it’s long goofy neck wobbled like a drunk “S”.
Then I hit a duck with another hush puppy. The duck spun all the wat over over. It was nuts, it did a 360 degree spin, going under the water and back up again.
I wanted to throw one at one of the geese, but i clearly remember being deathly afraid that some angry goose would come and kick my fried corn bread throwing ass.
That makes me think of dried up cow shit and walnut fights.
In the summer our weapon of choice was a water balloon. One time when my friends and I were “hiding” behind a tree outside my house when I nailed a perfect moon shot right on the windshield of a car. We ran immediately into the house and all 4 us his hid under the bed while the driver of the car stood outside our house screaming and waylaying the doorbell repeatedly. Good times
We never had rock fights, but we did have a great big water tower thing on top of the mountain behind our house. It’s like a water tower, but because it’s on top of a mountain it didn’t need to be an legs and up in the air. It was a giant concrete dome sitting on the ground that we climbed up and played on all the time. Apparently the college students liked it too, there were always tons of beer bottles alying around. So we stood on opposite sides of the concrete domes and threw empty beer bottles at each other. they exploded with such a satisfying smash, spraying the other guy with flying glass. Plenty of cuts, but all superficial. And nobody ever put their eye out.
I lived about half-way up the mountain, and if you timed it right you could throw a snowball onto the cars 200 feet below. It was great, nobody ever figured out where it came from – but it also got old pretty fast. Sooner or later we would wander up to the water tower to look for beer bottles to smash.
We used to hurl Dunkin Munchkins out the window of the car we were trolling in at unsuspecting pedestrians. I think we gave one poor bastard a coronary right smack in the middle of Rte 117. My friend Martha got in a lot of trouble for that little episode.
Rock throwing brings up a bad, bad memory for me as I was the lunatic grown up SCREAMING at a little boy who threw a rock at my 2 week old Chevy Beretta. The father was cool about it and gave me a check for $200 (this was 1987) but the wife was a total bitch “I don’t see HOW the roof could cost $200 to fix!” The car never looked the same. Fucking kid, I can still hear all those neighborhood kids in hushed tones “That lady is saying the F word… she’s REALLY mad!” before giving up the the little 8 year old perp.
Rock fights in the dry creekbeds of Alpine, Texas. The best place was under the bridge next to my friend Craig’s house, as the support columns & other natural features offered good cover. The summer after 3rd grade we went a rock fighting jag that lasted about 2 weeks. No one got hurt, save a few bruises on the arms, legs or torso, as we mostly hid & weren’t real aggressive. Until one day, the inevitable happened.
My friend Rusty was hiding behind a column, & alot of times we just threw in the general area of where someone was. Alas, I had a roundish stone roughly the size of a cue ball, & hurled it at Rusty’s column. In a perfect storm of carnage, Rusty stuck his head out for a peek, & my stone caught him square in the forehead just next to his left temple.
He collapsed without a sound, completely knocked out. When we ran over to see if he was OK, & by the time we got there a goose egg with split skin had already formed at the point of impact. When Rusty began to come around, holding his head & crying, we did the most responsible thing we knew how to do…we hauled ass & left him there.
A groggy Rusty eventually found his way home, & an ice-pack & 4 phone calls later, the brakes were slammed on any/all future rock fights, accompanied with some mild, late-evening child abuse from dear old Dad.
poor little Rusty.
I think the only time I threw eggs (or anything, for that matter) at a car, I was nabbed immediately. I’m not a good shenanigan maker or clean-getaway maker, either.
Funny you should bring this up. I’m just a year shy of the 30th anniversary of the “Great Tomato Scandal of 81”. Most of my friends were 14 except for Randy, he was held back a couple of years and he was 16 and had his drivers license. He also had access to a van. Back in 81 we still had a canning factory in town and there were tomato fields everywhere. We decided to help ourselves to a couple of bushels of tomatoes. We then proceeded to drive around town in broad daylight and whip tomatoes at anything we could find. It was high hiliarity until someone hit an upperclassmen’s car. He recognized us and went straight to the cop shop. I didn’t take the cops long to find us and they must have called Randy’s mom cause she showed up at the scene right behind the cops and repo’d our van. I remember this part only because Randy left it running and she turned the key to create that starter grinding noise you hear when you try to start a car that’s already running. There was about 6 of us and we couldn’t all fit in the cruiser so he called out on the radio “all units to west main street tomato suspects apprehended” this caused us to bust a gut because we only had 2 cop cars in town.
Ended up down at the cop shop, long ass lecture, parents called, grounded and we had to pay for the tomatoes we had stolen along with a personal apology to the canning factory owner. The worst part was football practice started the next day and even the coach had already heard the story and those of us fresman on the football team spent the entire first practice running.
Not sure why we thought doing this in the daylight hours was a good idea but at 14 sometimes you don’t think things through real well.
Sorry for the long ass post.
When I was a teenager I had a pretty good arm, now I can barely throw a fit. Snowballing cars from half a block away made for great Winter fun. Got chased some…was always exciting and good for some cheap laughs.
One time some friends thought it would be cool to steal a candy machine at about 3am from an all-night laundromat. I wasn’t with them but I heard the story. One of the old type machines with the pull handles. Anyway the thing was full of bags of M&M’s and they were great for throwing…like a beanbag. Anyway much fun was had until a windshield got broken…that ended that. Sad to say there was no money in the machine. And the fat kid ate a lot of the ‘ammo’.
Also it was fun to roll tires down the middle of one steep street that emptied onto a very busy street. It’s a wonder no one got hurt as a heavy tire doing maybe 25mph will do a lot of damage to a car door.
We never threw rocks, but we would stretch fishing line accross the road and tie various things to it. Cars would screen to a halt to avoid hitting the Wal-Mart bag, empty 2 liter, dead squirrel, etc.. suspened in mid air. We’d drop the line and hide while the driver would scratch their heads. On the rock fight note, I truly never understood why you would willing submit to being hit by a rock?! We had our fair share of dirt clod fights, and the occasionaly bb gun fight, so I guess its all the same.
I once nailed a dude’s car with a snowball from about five feet away. He stopped and I took off running. My buddy wasn’t so lucky. They grabbed him and stuffed him in their car to make him tell them where I lived. Nowadays we would call that kidnapping. The dude ended up at my house where he came close to getting into a fight with my dad. That was the end of my days of throwing snowballs at cars. Just so happens that this dude was the older brother of a fellow in my class, who made sure to make my life inconvenient for the next year or so. Many years later, the same guy (the older one) fried his ass attempting to steal copper wire.
Amongst our group of delinquents we had a few variations of objects to fling back and forth between us, including rocks, soda cans filled with gravel, crab apples, and the best yet – roman candles. Nothing gave you the feeling of being in Star Wars better than watching fireballs fly past your head!
Yep, I forgot about the dirt-clod battles and BB gun battles on Lee’s Hill. No one ever lost an eye though.
screech to a halt, not screen
This isn’t throwing things but along the same lines so here goes!!
My brother and his buddies were our playing their regular halloween games, egging & soaping houses. They ended up soaping the windown of one of his teachers and got caught! The teacher not only made him clean off the soapy mess but also gave him detention.
He is now a deputy sheriff!.
Throwing half-fist sized granite railroad rocks at passing trains was a fun pastime in the old days. When the rock hit the train it would ricochet off in amazing high speed fashion.
Enter Doug; he didn’t live near the tracks and didn’t realize the danger involved and threw the rock in the opposite direction that the train was traveling. The rock came back and hit him square in the chest and he when down like a sack of taters. My friend and I laughed so hard we almost pissed our pants. I don’t think Doug ever ventured up on the tracks again.
That makes me think of railroad pennies. I also know dudes who use to shoot BB guns at the guy in the caboose.
In junior high me and some friends were on our way home from some function at school just after dark. We were walking behind one of those self carwashes that was just a drivethrough. We found a pile of old tires sitting there. Someone decided that the game was to roll a tire through the carwash and have it make it all the way to the street which was probably 150 feet or so. Most of the attempts came up woefully short. The tire would usually start to wobble and then do a death sprial. Then a perfect strike was thown. The tire made a perfect line down the middle of the driveway and into the street, just in time to hit the side of a passing cop car. His lights snapped on and he came straight for the car wash. We all scattered and ran into the field behind the car wash and one at a time we all dropped into little ravines to hide in the weeds. He drove around for what seemed like forever with his spotlight on looking for us. Eventually he must have figured he had scarred the crap out of us enough and left. He was right.
Loved this article! I actually laughed out loud at parts–It brought back so many memories (that were probably better suppressed)! I had forgotten about how much fun hurling things at cars could be…thanks for the reminder.
Somehow, my sister and my best friend and I procured an airhorn once my older sister was able to drive. We took it with us every time we went out, and on our little jaunts we frequently passed a nearby golf course. If we could tell some poor guy was about to tee off, we tooted the air horn as loud and long as we could… usually with tears streaming down our face from laughter as we passed.
I suspect the drivers who get infuriated are the very same ones who participated in the activity growing up, becuase we know it isn’t an accident. An awning, yeah, you could always talk your way out of that… fly ball, limp wrist over there threw it and you know when he throws you never know where its going to end up… etc.
Our ammo was crab apples and snow balls. My elementary school was on a hill overlooking the road, you can imagine the activity going on there before we got the winter banning from that area.
I’ve been the hittee, some little amateur douche tossed a piece of concrete (I would have let it slide other wise with just some yelling at the turdlette) and dented my fking hood. I slam on the brakes, pull a very noisy uturn (headers, hot rod…) and he takes off. Now, how do I know he was an amateur? He didn’t know how to hide his little butt, and there was the little fact I was very familiar with the area being the scene of appleings that occured years prior… I swing into the subdivision nice and noisy and spot the bastard, toss it into first gear for some added noise effect (if theres one thing you learned is what sounds made your heart race just a bit faster) I come to a halt infront of the kid (remember, amateur) and lay into him about tossing concrete and rocks at cars. And I burned rubber outta there ( I was already too old at that time to get out of the car and beat sense into a minor, plus being in the middle of the street and having a well heard arrival there was probably a lot of eyes on me. Nobody came out, so either we where dealing with a severely latch-key area or I was doing the neighbourhood a favor. I got a good laugh afterward from it, still pissed about the dent in my hood… Did I mention the paint was only a few weeks old?
I preferred human targets back in my formative years. i grew up in a small suburban town on Long Island. My mom was a class mother, very active in school affairs, my father was VP of our civic association, so we were well-known and thus could always be assured that the folks would find out if we were to do anything bad.
our streets were resurfaced the old way: a thin layer of tar covered with gravel. we’d fill our pockets with gravel and throw rocks at each other, road signs, dogs, whatever. then they put in a housing development on the edge of our neighborhood. this gave us access to bigger rocks, bricks, lumber, roofing shingles, asbestos shingles, and other assorted building materials.
the holy grail was the odd box of 78-rpm records we’d come across in our travels. those were deadly.
Actually now that I think about it I did throw things at other people when I was a kid. We used to throw rotten potatoes at each other in the potato fields.
Occasionally the getting up and being in the field from 6AM to 5PM would get to you….especially because you were a kid making 50 cents a barrel.
Watching a rotten potato splatter against the side of someone’s head had a very soothing effect on you. LOL
I’ve never thrown stuff at cars. But back in high school, my younger sister did. She and her friends used to take packages of luncheon meats with them while cruising around each weekend. They would throw slices of meat out of the car widows in hopes of hitting other cars. I remember her saying that Oscar Mayer bologna was the best because it was the stickiest.
My brother and I once dropped a cinder block on a guy’s hood from an overpass. He was an 18 year old bully and he’d just split my brother’s lip. He slammed on the brakes and veered into the ditch as we ran off laughing.
My Great Grandfather had a chicken farm and we fetched some old ass eggs before a school Carnival. We hurled them at some people and put the rest in people’s lockers. They were greenish black, and the smell could make Rambo puke. When we came back to school on Monday the whole hallway smelled of gag inducing hot garbage. Lotsa fun.
I once shot this little fuckmouth kid nextdoor with a BB gun as he jumped on his trampoline. He thought he was getting stung by bees. He kept yelping and I kept shooting, lots of fun.
One time we were downtown in Waco, TX and this guy was atop one of the tallest buildings, threatining to jump. When we realized what was going on my cousin starting screaming, “Jump! Jump you pussy! In a few seconds all your problems can be over! Jump! You piece of shit!” Everyone was staring at him and one guy walked over and asked who the jumper was. My cousin said, “I dunno. Some idiot. Wish he’d jump.” Then the guy DID jump and my cousin did a little dance while saying, “YES! You did it you pussy! I bet he shit his pants!” Then we left. He still can’t explain to me why he did that. The guy died, obviously.
on Long Island a few years ago, some teenager in a car threw a frozen turkey through the windshield of a car that was traveling in the opposite direction. The frozen turkey caught the woman driver flush in the face, breaking every bone in her head. She survived after a lengthy hospital stay.
For whoever was talking about railroad pennies
http://www.railroadpennies.com/
Threw plenty of stuff: crab apples, snowballs, rocks, bricks….
Hit several new cars traveling on a train as it passed through town: Major damage.
Once tossed a scarecrow type dummy from an overpassed. The driver must of shit their pants until they realised it was not a person.
Tossed eggs at a group of older kids and then began running. Entered an ally and a cop was waiting and a few of us just ran him over. Picture a bunch of teenagers looking like running wildebeats He recovered and caught 2 or 3 of the stragglers; thankful they never gave our names. They were forced to pay a fine for disorderly conduct.
I hung out with kids that threw eggs and snowballs at cars, but was never the perpetrator – the one time that I was given an egg to throw, I made sure it hit the sidewalk. I was too afraid I’d get caught and that my Dad would find out – rather spend time in the Pen. We got caught now and again and I remember cop involvement but not with me.
We used to smash those little red berries on yew bushes with that slimy liquid inside and whip em at each other. Also “stickies” Those little cockleburr things off of plants. Once they got in your hair it was impossible to get them out.
Back in the old days we had a couple of the scary high tech sligshots (wrist rockets) that could probably kill someone pretty easily. Other than just launching rock to god know where, the next best thing was probably to convince Dorothy to make some of her homemade doh… think play-doh, but free sinceit was made from some household stuff. We’d play with it for a bit and then toss it to the side so she never understood why we wanted her to make it all the time… but when the sun went down, we’d grab the wrist rockets and sit by the road and fire that home made play-doh at any cars that passed our house. Once the 8th grade teacher stopped and got out of his truck and looked around… we were hiding in a pine tree shittin’ our drawers but nothing came of it… actually nothing ever came of it and we did that many times. ah the good old days. probably get 8-10 if kids got caught doing that now.
I’m still giggling like a school girl thinking about Jeff throwing snowballs at cars (at age 47) hahaha
-dorothy’s secret
O.K. If you know Parkersburg W.V., then you know the Belpre bridge. We used to have a boat on the Ohio. My step-brother at the time an I would wait until our parents were good and drunk after dark, then we’d get out the homemade slingshot that rigged up to the sides of the boat. We’d LAUNCH any and everything we could up and onto the Belpre bridge. (I remember seeing golf balls on the bridge while driving over it once) When that got old, we’d move upriver and open fire on the toll bridge. Sometimes we could even get away with heading up the Little Kanawha and lobbing stuff onto fifth street, East street and 77. The flood-wall was the holy grail of rotten fruit smashing hilarity. Probably dangerous a hell, but we’d go “stealth mode” and turn off the running light on the boat when we did this. The ONLY reason we didn’t get caught was because the sheriff’s boat patrol on a Friday night was usually drunker than anyone else on the river. When I was real little, we had this farm and at night we’d go on top of this large hill near the road. We’d light old tire on fire and roll it down the hill whenever we saw a car coming. It must have freaked them out to see a flaming tire rolling toward them, but just before the road the tire would hit a small rise and launch into the air. Most people didn’t even slow down because out there they were the same folks every weekend. Ahh memories…
So with the non-safe eggs on the shelves, maybe we SHOULD start throwing them?
Not believing that every state around Georgia is effected
and somehow we are in the clear.
I can no longer consume seafood because of the oil and the dispersants thrown into the sea
And now they are taking eggs from me…
Rock fights.
Checking in to see who else was down with it.
I guess smrat people do this.
Ga-hilk.
Best update in along time! I laughed out loud ! Reminded me of the” Good ‘ol Jeff ” who used to write about funny shit all the time and not the one stressing out about his goddamn book . Updates like this is what keeps me coming back
My friends and I were out cruising around Dunbar one weekend b4 Christmas. We got bored and stole the Baby Jesus out of the manger at the First Baptist Church . We drew a swastika on his forehead and laid him on the porch of my friend’s older brothers house . He was a preacher. Then we took Mary , Joseph and a few farm animals up to the motel 8 and strapped them to another friend’s boyfriend’s “hot rod” ford escort (they were having their “first time relations ” ) *chuckling @ relations+
Is chuckling at yourself allowed ?….
shuttin’ it down
@JerseyDon – I remember that story about the frozen turkey. Didn’t those dumb little bastards use a stolen credit card to buy it, too? That was a really sad article. It’s a wonder that woman didn’t die.