Urine Samples, Apologies, and Regurgitation
Before we get started today… remember that November 1 deadline I set for myself, to have my “book” finished? Well, today is October 13, and the clock is ticking. So, I’m returning to the yurt colony on Wednesday, where I will attempt to write myself into a state of full dementia.
(All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.)
And that means this will most likely be the final update of the week. I apologize, but we’re nearing the end of all this. Unless I’m sucked into a street sweeper during the next few weeks, or fall victim to spontaneous combustion, or some other unlikely tragedy, I will have written a book soon. A friggin’ book.
Notice how I didn’t even put it in quotes that time? Man, I’m starting to get downright cocky…
I’m excited, in all seriousness. I’ve been carrying around the premise for years, and still believe in it. The writing has been hard, but I think it’s turning out OK. I doubt Ernest Hemingway is feeling threatened on the other side, but I’m confident it’ll be a fun read. …Reasonably confident.
I appreciate you guys sticking with me through this. If all goes well, I can move on to some other crackpot obsession soon. Maybe I’ll get into those tiny Japanese trees you have to prune with tweezers for, like 60 years? Or possibly extreme clogging? Who knows? My options are unlimited.
Please stay tuned.
Our dog Andy (Mr. McDingles) was acting weird on Sunday. He was lurking around, staying close to the ground, and yelping whenever someone would make a sudden move. Nobody was near him, mind you, he’d be all the way across the room, and cower and yelp if someone scratched their arm or reached for the remote.
He did this once before, and we rushed him to the vet. His temperature was slightly elevated that day, but it was the only thing they could find wrong with him. And he was fine the next morning, completely normal. So we’d paid two hundred bucks for a man in a lab coat to twist a lubricated thermometer into our dog’s ass… Simply fantastic.
And, just like last time, everything was back to normal on Monday. What the hell, man?
Our instincts told us to save our money, and just let it go. But I can’t do it. This is Andy we’re talking about! One of the best people I’ve ever met. So, we (Toney) will be taking him to the vet again on Thursday. It’s been almost a year since he’s been there, so it’s time, anyway.
And – get this – they want us to bring along a stool sample, AND a urine sample. How do you get a urine sample from a dog?! I’ve never even heard of such a thing.
Toney asked this very question to the woman on the phone, and she suggested we sneak up behind the hound with a soup ladle. I busted out laughing when I heard this. I can just see me chasing him around the front yard with a big spoon: “Piss on this, goddammit! Piss on this ladle!! …Hey, where are you going??”
It would probably end up on YouTube, at the HalfShirt channel.
Have you ever had to provide a veterinarian a urine sample from a dog? How did you collect it? I’d like to know, I really would. The whole thing seems… unlikely to me.
Over the weekend I added three new Smoking Fish photos to the big swollen gallery. And you can see them here, at the top of the page. Very cool! Thanks, folks. Keep ‘em coming… Our logo, man, he gets around.
Here’s a “joke” I wrote while driving to work yesterday: I’m thinking about opening a store that caters to flamboyant gay men who love sports. Our first product will be a replica jersey from the New York Jetth.
What do you think? Too 1970s Shecky Greene Catskills supper club? Yeah, I sorta agree.
And a couple of quick things before we get to the Question…
I guess there’s something wrong with the RSS feed, on the email side. The folks who signed up to receive the updates via email are no longer receiving them. I haven’t had a chance to dig into it too deeply, but something is certainly askew. The feed will not validate properly, which makes me unhappy and mildly anxious. I’ll get to the bottom of it, ASAP. Sorry for the hassle.
And the t-shirts… I get sick to my stomach whenever I think about them. Not the shirts, exactly, but my half-assery as it pertains to them. They’re still boxed-up in the family room, and haven’t been mailed. I apologize, sincerely. I’ve let it go too long, and promise to pull an all-nighter after the yurt, to get everything caught-up.
I suck, God knows it’s true, but I think everyone will be happy with the finished product (eventually). They look great, both the retro and miscommunication models. I’m on it, I promise. Sweet sainted mother of Mister Creosote…
And speaking of upset stomachs, I’ll leave you with a Question we ponder once a year or so. It usually leads to some great, disgusting stories, and I’m confident this time will be no different.
In the comments section please tell us about the last time you, you know, vomited. What were the circumstances? How long ago did it happen? I think it was late 2000 for me (I’m an infrequent vomiter), a horrible night when it came exploding out of every hole — give or take a few.
Also, we’d like to read your all-time favorite upchuck story. So, that’s yer question. Pretty classy, huh? I’ll probably jump in and ask a new one on Thursday, so that it’s not just wall-to-wall puke around here until Monday. Heh.
Have a great week, my friends.
I’ll see you soon.
Filed under: Daily
1st!!
Congrats, Bob- 2nd
#3
thrid, yess
I will expect an autograph when you are more famous than you are now…just saying…and it will have to be signed on my bosom.
Sorry julie
;^)
Never had to collect dog urine. However, I would like to know how they collect deer urine for those little bottles by the WalMart registers in North Carolina. Whose job is that?
Last time I puked was after my last drunken night, January 15, 1996. I drank enough to kill an average sized human, and ate a lot of Chinese food. Looking back on it now, I wished I could have had some canvas then, and could coat it with varnish or something. I understand that some people would pay good money for that.
On IPOD right now- “Gravity”- Gorillaz
Tammie, when I come back to Dunbar, one day, I would like to do the same. Remember, I will clean your house, first.
On IPOD right now- “Tomorrow”- Silverchair
December 6 1988 was the last time I puker. It was the last time I had a drink also. Coincidence? I think not…
I think the proper spelling would be “Jetth.” Two Ts. Otherwise, it would rhyme with “Seth,” as opposed to sound like lisping.
September 5 2009- My Birthday. 12 hours of drinking Beer, Jameson, Cherry Bombs and Quervo Gold did me in-
Enough said.
No experience with urine collection from canines but good luck all the same.
I can’t recall the last time I puked.
Favorite puke story would prolly be the time I puked out the window of my friends white car, on a zero degree night, after drinking sloe screws. A beautiful orange cascade frozen in time down the side of his white car.
Regarding the Q of the D:
I vomited on Sunday. I forced myself to. I made myself a big home-made turkey & cheese hoagie, with a giant fancy-pants sourdough roll; and paired that with about a half-a-giant-bag of Cheetos (the “baked” variety — they’re healthy, right?), and a mound of store-bought macaroni salad; ditto on the coleslaw; and three bottles of Flying Fish Extra Pale Ale. All downed in the first quarter of the Eagles game. For the rest of the game I was feeling a bit queezy. Drank some Alka Seltzer Heatburn tablets (the kind with no aspirin). Chewed on four of five Rolaids (or where they Tums?). After a few hours still feeling lousy, I decided there was only one way to cure myself, and that was to make some room in the belly. And believe me, it wasn’t difficult — I didn’t need to stick a finger in my throat or anything like that. I simply leaned over the kitchen sink, and let loose with a few heaves. I didn’t empty out the gullet, I only let enough out to ease the pressure. And after that, I felt fine.
By the way, it’s only bulimia when one *plans* to puke in order to eat as much as one wants. I had no intention of puking on Sunday. It was only performed as a last resort to ease my suffering. Any anyway, only females are bulimics. I’m a big strapping man, dammit.
Ha!! funny how puke stories are here today. Last episode..last Thursday. Actual sick and visiting porcelain all day. In bed so long my hips ached. sigh. Very horrible. Glad it is over with.
That was fun sharing.
Good Afternoon Surf Reporters……
Why Mr. McDingles? What happened to Black Lips Houlihan?
As far as collecting the pee sample, it’s actually easy, I’ve had to do it before. Delay letting Andy out until he’s doing “the dance”. Take him out on a leash and keep him as close to you as possible. Of course you’ll have your collection device at the ready. I suggest a clean jelly or Mason jar.
At the first piss stop as soon as Andy lifts the leg, you swoop into action. You have to have ninja like reflexes to accomplish this. And not mind possibly getting a little dog piss on your forearm and hand.
Vomiting. Well, I suffer from acid reflux sometimes, so I’m a fairly recurring puker.
I am vomiting right now!
This past sunday was the last time for me. It was the color of antifreeze. But thats what mixin Cuervo Gold, Jim Beam, and Jager (on top of ALOT of beer) will do to you i guess.
I was mildly ill about two weeks ago, just enough to heave a time or two. The last one resulted in a lumpy nose blow about 10 minutes after the puke.
Its been years since I threw up. I have kids for that now.
Along with Vicki and Casey J, I too was violently ill in the last two weeks resulting in much involuntary vomiting. I am now a slightly less fat secretary.
Can’t remember the last time I vomited. Might have been when I ate sauteed chicken and scallops in the mountains a few years ago.
My favorite up-chuck happened when I was about six. I was feeling poorly and the doctor wanted to take a throat culture. On the first attempt, I backed away and said, “Don’t! That’s going to make me throw up!” “No, it won’t,” said the doctor, as she stuck that swab down my gullet. I yakked all over her lap. Served her right.
I puked last week, I think Thursday. I was hungover and decided to have a few cans of warm “hair of the dog” and it came right back up. Someone told me a trick to avoid puking. You push on the area just below the sternum until the feeling goes away. Didn’t work for me.
I would suggest figuring out a way to attach a freezer sized ziplock bag over Andy’s penis before you take him to piss. Maybe duct tape it to his stomach or something?
I don’t puke.
Have Andy piss in an empty kiddie pool, then collect it by tilting the pool to one side and scooping it out with a coffee mug.
I’ve never been requested to collect dog urine. I don’t even like collecting dog shit and always feel weird when I have to hand it over.
Ever since starting the Atkins diet back at the end of April I have been a frequent puker. Mostly from drinking. Not because I drink a lot or enough to get drunk and puke. I think it’s the shots. I drink Michelob Ultra, only 2.6 grams of carb per serving dammit. But if I do a shot of liquor that is even remotely sweet you can bet I’ll be puking somewhere eventually.
Last time was my sisters bachelorette party, August 1st, red-headed sluts was the culprit. Before that would be July 4th, Apple Pucker this time, and I wasn’t even close to drunk.
Since then I’ve been close a few times. Goldschlager almost made me lose my dinner last weekend. I’ve pretty much sworn off shots from now on. I do not like being sick to my stomach after two beers and one shot, which may have been over-poured and more like a triple shot.
Side note, our little asshole cat vomits every day from overeating. Nothing medically wrong, just eats way too much. Theres prolly puke on the floor at home as I type this. She does kill the spiders and lizards in the house though.
My wife pukes every time she drinks too much.
On IPOD right now- “Spill the Wine”- War (with Eric Burdon)
Oh damn. I lied. The last time I puked was September 18th. I got seasick while on a deepsea fishing excursion off Virginia Beach while on vacation. 5 hours straight of puking and/or feeling like I was drunk/suffering from a migraine/hungover/high. Worst. Day. Of. My. Life.
A couple months back when I was taking pain medications for my knee. Forgot to take the anti-nausea pill with it. Someone walked by my desk with some thing that faintly smelled like breakfast and the stomach twitching started. I scurried to the mens room where as soon as I hit the door, everything my body could eject hit the toilet, floor etc. Not a pretty sight that day. I even found a few chunks in my shirt pocket.
The last time I was at the Doctors he came into the room with a concerned look on his face and a tumbler containing my urine sample! “Pagan” he said with a hound dog look remincent of Walter Matthau contemplating Anne Margarets left boob! holding the glass up in a toast “Your urine is 99% alcohol & 1% water! Cheers!”
Angrywhiteguy: why don’t you stop feeding your cat so much at a time?
Feeding is not my job, Jorge, otherwise, she would get just enough to last until tomorrow. Wife and kids think that feeding her a goddamn pound of food will mean that she doesn’t need to be fed for a few more days. I figured that solution, but since I am awake and out the door an hour before eveyone else, I can’t seem to control it.
On IPOD right now- “Heroes”- David Bowie
Last time was a couple of months ago. Moderate drinking combined with extraordinarily greasy food.
My favorite is from college. We were watching a Georgia Tech – UNC basketball game on TV in the dorm. I had a whole large pizza and drank about 8 shots of tequila in the space of about 45 minutes. At the time, I was a fairly new drinker, and this was a LOT of alcohol in a short time. I passed out for an hour or two, and am sort-of amazed that I didn’t die like Bon Scott.
I got up to pee, and could hardly stand. To this day, I have never experienced a room spinning like that. I somehow guided myself to the bathroom and pissed, then sat on the toilet and coated all 3 walls of the stall with pizza and tequila. Horrifying.
Joe
First, my RSS is working fine.
Second, the last time I vomited was October 16, 2008. How does she remember that? you ask. Well, I ended up in the hospital gastro intestinal bleeding for five days.
Third, my all time funniest upchuck story. A group of us were at an event for an organization. We had to travel out of town, there and back in an evening. One of the girls in our group got trashed and made us stop and a McDonald’s truck stop (yes, there really is one) so she could puke and the rest of us pee. When she was puking in the bathroom, some other drunk leaving yelled “HAPPY HANGOVER!”
I don’t puke unless I pull my own trigger, and while I have done that a few times from fear of alcohol poisoning, no real stories to tell. I watched a drunk friend get up in the middle of a crowded room, walk past the door to the back yard, and pick up a milk crate and proceed to barf through it to the capeted floor below. Needless to say he’s not the brightest crayon in the box. Did I mention the milk crate was where everybody put their shoes when they came in so that they didn’t soil the carpet?
Did anybody watch the further evidence video? HOLY CRAP!!! Who in their right mind would eat that, no wonder Sara is morbidly obese!!!!
Tales from the Yurt: “He listened with rapt attention to the yurt dwellers’ tales, fixating his coal-black laser eyes on them as they proselytized. He asked questions. They regaled him with tales of catatonic and schizophrenic patients making dramatic behavioral improvements after living in yurts for three weeks. We all knew too many serious crazies for this not to be good news”.
Last time I puked: watching further evidence today!!
Squeeze the dog REAL HARD, and…
I’m kidding, I have no idea.
Last boot?
Riding to Charleston from Washington, D.C., in a WVANG helicopter 2 years ago. Yeager runway was in sight, but relentless turbulence rendered my barf-constricting muscles useless. Chucked discretely into my carryon jacket, but unfortunately, I was noticed.
extreme clogging is what you get when you don’t poop at work. And if you are working on the book at the yurt does that mean you do not poop there either?
Apologies to Johnny Cash!!:
I went to the yurt today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the book
The only thing that’s real
Just cant think today
The old familiar sting
Try to write it anyway
cause the agent say no book no bling
Jeff, pertaining to Andy, I would suggest you ask your dog about Vestibular Syndrome. It’s a common affliction that hits older dogs rather suddenly, then disappears often as quickly. Symptoms can be severe (lasting 4 weeks) or mild (lasting 24 hours). They can be like you said, where he gets irritated at the slightest sounds, or seems woozy, or out of sorts. The strongest symptoms can be where your dog has all of the above but can’t walk or move. This is all because the Inner Ear is a bit out of whack and they have no equilibrium & can’t balance, so they simply stay still. They won’t eat, won’t drink and have to be carried to go anywhere. But again, this clears up on it’s own.
I’m only telling you this because our recently deceased 10 year old Lab had this and it started out just like you are describing with Andy, only got so much worse and so common that she eventually had a brain bleed, or stroke (which is rare in dogs) and died suddenly.
Please at least ask. They started us out with urine/stool samples too, so they may be leaning towards it. Here is more info:
http://www.veterinarypartner.com/Content.plx?P=A&S=0&C=0&A=564
Hope this helps give you some insight. And as for the collection of urine? I took our dog and dropped her off with them before work, had one of their assistants do the deed and picked her up after work. I wasn’t getting involved. Good luck to Andy!
I can’t remember the last time I puked. Iron gut or profession drunk, take your pick.
I puked all over a hotel bathroom after a concert and nasty pizza. 12+ hours of drinking and pizza. Bad combo for me, apparently.
And when I say ‘older’ dog, I do know Andy isn’t all that old. But this hits dogs anywhere from usually 6 years of age or older, and if I’ve been reading TheWVSR correctly, he should be in that range. If not, still ask, just to be safe.
Last time I vomited was in July, when I was on a high-speed ferry from Portland, Maine to Nova Scotia. I suffer from motion sickness, but I forgot to take my Dramamine that day. I ended up puking two or three times during the five-hour ride.
AWG, my cat vomits every morning, too — no matter what amount I feed him. According to our vet, it’s not all that unusual. (Her cat does it as well). Some cats just operate on instinct and eat all that’s in front of them, in case there won’t be any more food later.
And now back to regular commenting:
The last time I puked was Saturday night. How funny you asked. I had been drinking my drug of choice (SeaBreeze: Vodka, Grapefruit Juice & Cranberry Juice) & after about two noticed I didn’t feel well. Normally I can down about 4 or 5 but I did use Ocean Spray Grapefruit Juice (we usually juice our own from the yard) & I think all the sugar/corn syrup made me feel yucky. So, up it went.
As for the shirts…BUMMER! I am going out of town this weekend (first time in forever) & was hoping to have my shirts on for the photo-ops!!!
Now Playing on iPhone: ‘Secretly Jealous’ by Coyote Shivers
I don’t remember the last time I puked, I just remember that I woke up sleeping in a pile of it. Apparently this was brought on by a brief, but highly effective session of chugging from a handle of Jim Beam Black.
The time before that I don’t remember either. I just remember that I had to hose down the back of my neighbor’s pick-up truck the next day. I wasn’t able to piece together what brought that one on.
Last time I puked was on a train from Kazan to Novosibirsk in Russia. A businessman from Belaruss was sharing my compartment and after I poured us some beer he pulled out a bottle of Gorilka – vodka flavored with chili peppers, from the Ukraine. Nasty stuff and not to be mixed with anything. I barely made it to the bathroom in time to hurl voluminous quantities down to the tracks below. I hurt for a long time after that.
Best puking story:
1985, taking a minibus from a small village in Guangdong province, China, back to the main city of Guangzhou (the former Canton), with my (now ex-) wife, whose relatives we had been visiting in the village. She is in a white dress, high heels, makeup, hair up in a bun, showing off for the locals. I’m sick as a dog having been dehydrated the day before with severe Hershey squirts and a fever during a walk to the local cemetery.
We figure it’s a quick 1.5 hour ride so we opt for the cheaper bus without AC, but with windows to roll down. Its crowded – we get seats together on the passenger side, second row behind two young boys about 4 and 5. Their mother is diagonally behind us with lots of bags and a few chickens, or so it seemed. The ride quickly becomes a journey to hell. It’s hot, there is road construction, and we move at a snail’s pace with no AC and no wind to cool us off.
At one point the minibus starts moving at a good pace, but the bumpy ride is not treating the 5 year old boy in front of us very well. He stands up, puts his head out the window and begins projectile vomiting into the wind. The nasty mess comes flying right back past him and into our open window, all over the ex-wife’s dress. She goes batshit crazy on his ass – I thought we were going to see bloodshed. The boy starts crying , the mother is screaming, my ex is trying to find something to clean the yellow/orange puke off her white dress, and everyone else (including me) is trying not to laugh.
My ex is fluent in the local gutteral village dialect, which has also taken everyone by surprise because she is with a gwailo (me, the Caucasian) and dressed to the nines – this makes it even more bizarre/funny to them. Finally she makes the mom change seats with her so she can be the receptacle for little Chao’s chow. But my ex-leaves her bag under the seat, and where does junior decide to keep puking? That’s right, his mother instructed him to puke on the floor – after this, every time the bus rolled to a stop or pulled out in acceleration, the puke on the floor moved, snakelike, back and forth until it had covered the edge my ex’s bag.
Meanwhile, I am dying of thirst and overheating again, thinking that my last vision on Earth will be from the inside of a Chinese bus full of puke, watching my ex-wife cuss like a sailor in Cantonese to amusement of a bunch of perplexed peasants, who all went home with something to talk about that day.
Somehow I survived and made it to a hotel with AC and a minibar, but the ride took 6.5 hours – probably one more and I would have just given up.
Haven’t been back to China since, and I’m not married to her anymore, go figure.
It’s been so long that I don’t know exactly when it was but I do remember an emergency pull-off into a K-mart parking lot about 2 a.m. and ridding myself of about $40 worth of George Dickel. Now I can’t stand the smell of the stuff and haven’t had so much as a beer in 20 years or so.
When we had to collect urine from our dog, our vet provided us with a syringe and told us to force the dog to urinate on concrete and suck it up with the syringe.
The last time I vomited was June 1992. I had just graduated college and was in my first week at my new job. I had apparently come down with mono. So, I worked a few days then took two weeks off.
Come on now, nija reflexes? keep your dog in the yard, cut up some bin (garbage) bags, so they fit round his favourite tree/ post/ corner- let him piss, and you can decant it into whatever container seems handy.
(If the dog has a sense of humour, as ours had, he will follow you round, tidying up all the polythene you have left in his toilet, but persist, it’s still easier than a fu*kin ladle…….)
Sorry to post again… ins’t it interesting that most teenage drunks find that one gross vomit session that put’s them off that particular drink for life? Thank god mine was advocaat and cider, nothing I would want to go near in adult life….Slainte!
AND STOP CALLING IT A YURT! IT’S VERY INSULTING! it’s called a ‘ger’ yurt is a term of abuse, as bad as saying “lives in a shithole”.
Last barf?
21 September, 2009, around noon.
I was waiting in the “recovery room” after having a colonoscopy.
Felt nauseous & asked the nurse for an emesis tray.
The nurse looked surprised and started walking towards me.
I then asked her for a bucket to barf in.
She brought me an emesis tray.
I didn’t think I had anything in my stomach, as I hadn’t eaten for 12 or so hours and the magnesium citrate I had taken the day before had worked its wonders on my intestines & colon.
I was wrong.
Felt miserable for the remainder of the day, though my colon got a clean bill of health….
“So we’d paid two hundred bucks for a man in a lab coat to twist a lubricated thermometer into our dog’s ass… Simply fantastic.”
200 bucks? Should have called me. I’d have done it for half that.
As for puking I think the last time was about two years ago. i had eaten pork rinds, a pizza and 2 or 3 quarts of grape kool-aid. Results were downright spectacular.
As for embarrassing hurlage I suppose it would be the time I was …well…performing cunnilingus in a dorm stairwell. Hell of a way to ruin a mood.
So we’re driving along on a warm summer day. My brother-in-law doesn’t take seriously the fact that I’m prone to carsickness if I sit in the backseat. I had just finished a bag of sour cream n onion chips and a tuna sandwich. He starts swerving to irritate my sister. I warned him of the consequences and my warning went unheeded. Just as we pulled up to his house, I felt my mouth start to water. I leapt from the car, raced toward the house, and just as I got to the gate, it all came shooting out. I hurled, and it shot from the gate clear up to the step twenty feet away. The dog ran out and started eating it as fast as he could. My BIL took one look, turned gray and puked out the car door on to the street.
He’s never played chicken with me in the car since.
I want a Thmoking fith T-shirt. I put a poll on my site concerning a very important matter, to wit: Does the ass release shit spores, or fart molecules? I only have two votes as my site has not yet received NIH funding to study this matter.
Since Jeff is growing his hair out and packing his bong to head off the yurt, surf over, and vote.
Jeff, can you sneak a pair of depends under Andy as he launches his stream? Dress like the Postman while Andy is near a linoleum floor?
Peace out bro.
I’d still like to know how they collect deer piss.
On TV right now- The Penguins of Madagascar- Awesome show.
Jeff…man up. Catch some dog piss? Who the hell does this?Imagine collecting a gallon of racoon piss!? Or fox piss. Soup laddle ain’t gonna work on the critters. $27.99 a gallon seems like a bargin. Imagine the fun someone could have with a gallon of raccon piss!
http://www.rpoutdoors.com/rpurine.html…and let’s not forget Bambi…http://www.rpoutdoors.com/rpurine.html
I usually gurg a bit every morning. An anxiety thing I think. Waking up and realizing I’m still alive…and realizing all the money I’ve spent over the years to slowly destroy myself…has been wasted for another day.
My most recent technicolor yawn was the second last weekend in August. I was at a party at my sister-in-law’s house and drank about 10 beers then hit the rye with my father-in-law. I’m not sure how much I drank, but it came at me in full highball glasses with no mix, so I’m guessing it was a lot. By 11ish (time is a little fuzzy) I knew I was going to puke, so I helped things along to get it over with.
My all time best vomit story happened when I was 23. I was in the army reserves in those days and spent one March break as duty driver for a “General Military Training” course at Ipperwash. I was supposed to get Wednesday off, so I spent Tuesday night in the mess until they cut me off. I was informed later that I drank over 30 beers. Someone from my unit got me back to my bunk (top bunk FYI) and I vaguely remember crawling in. At some point in the night I must have puked. A lot. When I woke up the next morning the ceiling over my bunk was covered as were the sheets, floor, and the bunk under mine (empty fortunately). As an added bonus my kit bag was open and full of puke as well. Having avoided the fate of Bon Scott I was feeling pretty good until a runner found me and let me know that the other driver was AWOL and I was driving. In 20 minutes. I scraped together something resembling a uniform, sent someone to get me an ice bucket from the mess and signed out a vehicle. First order of business was driving the sentries out to their stations in the dunes, which I survived without incident. Coming back into camp however the base commander stopped me for minute and as I was talking I could feel the urge to vomit begin to rise. At the last second he let me go, I swerved around the first corner, bailed out and puked all over the lawn of the MIR. Somehow this escaped attention of anyone with enough authority to care, so I raced back to my barracks, threw my kit in the shower, bragged my linens and mattress over to the next barracks (we were in “H” huts so it was easy), cleaned the ceiling and floor, puked again, hung my kit up to dry and raced out to the rifle range where I was appointed acting Range Officer.
The rest of the day was pure hell, but the hangover was gone by dinner AND I got to hear the screams of anguish when a busload of new recruits rolled into the barracks next door and discovered the mattress and sheets that had been fermenting there all day.
Crap…that link was supposed take you right to the ‘raccoon piss’ order desk. Oh well…over there on the left you can find “baits and urine”.
The last time I barfed was last Thursday – stomach bug. And I’m not much of a puker, either.
My favorite barf story isn’t even one of my own, but a friend of mine. He and another buddy had been out drinking all night and decided to hit the Taco Bell. When my friend woke up, there was Taco Bell puke all over his bed and himself. He even found a black olive in his hair.
Jeff – I vomited a week ago Sunday. I was outside on a beautiful fall day, drinking my Woodchuck Hard Apple Cider, tossed back the last swig, and then my esophagus exploded in agony. I thought I had swallowed glass! I made it to the sink (barely), lost my lunch and the cider, then forced myself to fish through it all so I could find the chuck of glass still shredding my throat and sue the f**kers. That’s when I found the wasp. I had multiple stings to my esophagus, and my adam’s apple was bigger than Ann Coulters for a week. I’m only just now eating solid food. And yes, it hurt every bit as bad as you think it did.
I suffer from acid reflux too, so ‘shouting at Hugh and Ralph on the big white telephone’ is a fairly common occurence for me. No problem.
Unless its ‘nippy nose sick’.
Do you guys get Baileys Irish Cream over there?
If so, I do not recommend being sick on it and having it come down your nostrils. I found it not to be an especially pleasant experience.
I once tried to ‘wring’ some piss out of my dog into a cup . It did not really work, and would have been better on a Daschund type dog.
I do recommend rubber gloves however, if you do ‘mind possibly getting a little dog piss on your forearm and hand.’
I never was much of a puker, but I broke my “streak” this May. Had to have been at least 15 years since the last puke too. I had food poisoning. Sucks to puke when you’re sober.
Also, I did partake of a horrendous amount of a particular chemical a couple weeks ago and was so amped up that I took a drink of beer and it wouldn’t even go down. Blaargh…at least I was walking down the street so nothing to clean up there. Fun times. Not sure that really counts as a real puke though.
Favorite puke story: Drank 3/4 of a gallon of bottom shelf vodka when I was about 18 and puked all over the city trying to make it home. Even tried to pick a fight with some meatheads on the way. Smart, real smart.
On the turntable right now: Nick Lowe “I Knew the Bride”
Last time I chunked up my cookies. Iraq 2003. I also am an infrequent vomiter, but our entire platoon got some kind of nasty stomache bug, probably from the filthy, semi-filtered water we drank over there. For 24 hours I puke and had diahrea, sometimes both at the exact same time, and people wonder why I did my 4 and got the hell out. The good thing is that our MRE’s came with grape drink mix and the puke tasted pretty strongly of grape, which interestingly enough was not an altogether unpleasant thing. Much better than that nasty sour, stomache bile taste.
Worst puke story for me was when I was 12 years old. My “wiser” best friend and I walked down to the mini mart and bought a case of Rainier beer. I drank 11, and then went out and promptly deposited the 11 beers in his back yard. It was a good lesson learned…I didn’t drink again until I was 19 years old.
I am chronic puker. All psychogical I know. Not that long ago walked into a public bathroom and saw a lugy in the sink and absolutely started heaving. Everything makes me sick, but I luckily it just comes in phases. Was watching a friend’s kid a few years back and had to change his diaper (a #2), had to make sure he was safe before I ran to the bathroom and completely lost my cookies.
Funniest puke story was in grade 2, some kid threw up a cheese sandwich all over his finger painting board. I don’t know how I remember that it was a cheese sandwich (that musta hurt) but it was the talk of the school for sometime.
For collecting dog urine, boy dogs like to pee where other boy dogs have been. Take him for a walk around lots of telephone poles and fire hydrants and try to get what you can (you might want to wear a plastic glove). I once heard that thou who pees highest on the pole is the winner.
Oh yeah, another one was that my sister and I had to share a bed when I was in grade1 or 2. She threw up raisin pie all over the bed. It has scarred me for life.
Yes Jeff…I agree with Melissa, ask your dog what’s wrong.
@clintcurtis-
Did they sell you the beer at that ripe young age? If so, kickass. I think the youngest I ever got served was 16, in a bar that was run by an 80-something year old man who was notorious for not giving a shit how old you were. A few years later he got put in a nursing home and/or died, the land got sold off and the bar met the wrecking ball. Enough to bring a tear to my eye when I drive past the site, even to this day.
I don’t remember the last time I puked, but I’m certain alcohol was involved. I would rather have pneumonia than puke. My little sister, who shared a bed with me as well as the back seat of the car, puked constantly. I think my mother was punishing me. I remember getting up in the middle of the night, walking to the side of mother’s bed and stating, “Mom, she did it again.” I hate puke.
I must’ve felt like Obama when he got the Nobel when Jeff accepted my friend request on Facebook. I feel deeply honored, as though I were invited to join Sam’s Club. It’s like my mouth took a shower!
@Jason, be careful when you rub the wound salve on your sad member. If applied too vigorously, some claim there are side effects on vision, and palm hair.
@t-storm I wrote you at the address you gave. Did you receive?
Wenn die Katze Fort ist, tanzen die Maueser! (When the cat is away, the mice will play.)
AWG-I don’t know all the mechanical aspects of the operation but nearby here there is a farm that has whitetail deer. When the females go in heat they collect their urine, I would guess they keep them in a special pen for this task.
Is this thing still on?
In the early ’70s my father had to sell the family station wagon (a Ford LTD Country Squire, green paint with fake wood siding, I believe) because one of the neighborhood kids puked a half-digested tuna sandwich in the carpeted back compartment. Dad tried everything to get rid of that stink, but nothing worked. I think he traded it in for a blue Ford LTD Country Squire, with fake wood siding.
October 14, 2009
I know this is not comedic or anything, but it is thought provoking. Analyze yourselves. Answer, if you think you have something to offer. Let’s get deep, dudes. Nothing else here like “Is soup a meal?” to keep us occupied.
Fake Dad’s Birthday, Lost Dreams and Right place at the Right Time
Happy Birthday “Dad”
Today is fake Dad’s birthday. I have to call him, since he IS fake Dad, but he raised me with an iron fist, and I cannot let my gratitude for the many ass beatings I endured go unrewarded with no phone call. So I will call. As I have mentioned before, several years ago, at age 44, I received a letter from a guy in South Carolina purporting to be my real father. I was skeptical, until he told me things that he could not have possibly known, unless my Mom told him. My Mom, of course, denied all of this when I asked her about him and pleaded with me to never have contact with him again. Fake Dad had no clue and just believed that I was born two months premature, as he married my Mom in December and I was born in July. SC Dad looks just like an old man me. Fake Dad looks like an American Indian. Therefore, he is fake Dad.
Fake Dad terrified a lot of my friends and was the main reason many of them did not come to my house when I was a kid. We did play all sports in the parking lot across the street from my house, but never in my yard. Fake Dad would insist on bullying my friends and they did not like that….not one bit. Fake Dad would also beat my ass with a wooden club when I was bad, and then, ask to see my ass, as if the swollen red welts were a trophy for him. Fake Dad never spent time with me, never taught me to drive, and asked dates that I would reluctantly bring to the house if he could pat them on the ass. Fake Dad only taught me two redeeming qualities: To work hard to support your family and how to take a punch in the face. Thanks fake Dad, and Happy Fucking Birthday. May you live in pain for the rest of your years. Anyone else have any “Dad” stories they would like to share?
Lost Opportunities
There were many dreams I had throughout childhood and early adulthood that never came to be. Some due to my fault, some due to life’s fault (which I sometimes refer to as God’s fault) and some due to untimely circumstances. When I was five, I wanted to be a doctor. My family doctor would let me mess around with the implements of examination in his office and even promised that I could work in the spare office in his building. What happened? Maybe if I had some medical books to read, instead of “Curious George and the High Tension Electrical Wire”, I might have shown more interest, but then, The Moon Landing came along. I was going to be an astronaut, y’know, when going to the moon was going to be as commonplace as taking the bus to the mall. My grandfather bought me a uniform and a helmet with a tissue paper speaker in the mouthpiece for authenticity. The moon was the shit, and I was going to wipe it. However, I discovered Johnny Unitas and the Baltimore Colts. Got the uniform for Christmas, and the helmet. Got my teeth knocked out playing football in my front yard (wasn’t wearing the helmet) and that dream was halted by Mom and fake Dad, after spending a huge sum of money to put some caps on my broken stubs.
Musician- learned to play many different musical instruments, but in Jr. High, for career day, which was supposed to be our choice of career, I was not allowed to hang out with a musician for a day, but was forced to take a tour of the newspaper building instead, as newswriter was my third choice. By my senior year, I had no fucking idea what I wanted to do with my life. I obtained a criminal justice degree from Phunky Inner City College in Institute and immediately moved to Florida and never did anything with it for years. I finally obtained a job with the city PD here, only to be dismissed after two months for drawing my weapon in a crowded bar where I felt I was being threatened. Went back to cooking in restaurants. Went back to college, got a paralegal degree, only to find that lawyers do not hire guys as paralegals. Moved to North Carolina, found work as a paralegal and did extremely well. Moved back here and have been downsized as a paralegal at two different law offices. Now I work a low paying state job for the company known widely as the “water Nazis”.
I am surely not at the point I thought I would be at at age 48. Anyone else have lost dreams that they have not fulfilled?
Turns of Events
Have you ever sat and thought about how your life may have changed if you had not made a previous decision as to where you would have gone had it not worked out the way it did? Sorry, that may have been confusing. Allow me to lead by example.
Had I not gone to Rax Roast Beef on a day their water heater exploded, they would have interviewed me. And hired me. But they did not. I went across the street to Bob Evans. They hired me. Met many friends along the way. Had I not wrecked my car in South Charleston, WV, I would have never called my friend, Rusty, who worked with me at Bob’s and was now in Floriduh, and asked him if there were any jobs there for me. I moved to Floriduh. Had I not been pissed enough to quit my job at Chili’s, I would never have applied at a retirement home, where I met my current wife. Therefore, I would not have the two young children I have now that basically are the high points of my life. See how that all worked out? Any stories that have affected your eventual path that you are at now? How would it have been if you showed up ten minutes, or an hour, or a day late for something? I know this is deep and not as thought provoking as “When was the last time you puked?”, but give it a shot. It may keep us busy for a while.
Oh, and here is a lot less thought provoking question for those who do not want to think. “When was the last time you shat out a turd that was extremely painful, due to it’s size? There, that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?
Looking forward to the regular ten of you that reply to my questions. But I still love you all.
@Angry, My own dad was killed flying in the Military when I was 12. Mom remarried another Pilot a year later & I inherited a 40 year old bachelor who knew nothing about kids & acted pretty much like the Great Santini! In retrospect he tried to do his best! which was a hell of a lot more than I did! Thanks to his dicipline I turned out to be a half decent human being with a fairly strong moral code, a decent sense of humour!(although as you may note from my posts I only amuse myself:) and thanks to his hobbies a damned fine fly fisherman! I have to say its the guy who brings you up not the sperm donator who deserves the term Dad! Had I realized it at the time:, I’m one of the lucky ones I had two dads:)
@AngryWhiteGuy: I’ll try to answer, but some are pretty deep and VERY thought provoking in their own right.
Fake Dad: I have a real dad but lately wish he were fake. I’m 30 and I feel like his parent. He quit his steady paying job with benefits years ago, forcing my mother into the ‘bring home the bacon’ position that she didn’t mind being in for awhile, but health problems of late are making her wish she could retire. She can’t though because ‘Dad’ likes to take the money she makes and buy himself nice things, like cameras ($1200), MAC computers ($2000+), etc. He is making a ‘documentary’ so he has been travelling non-stop going wherever he pleases, while Mom, working her ass off can’t even fly to Pittsburgh, PA to visit her one grandchild (my bro’s kid). She puts up with it, but I’m going nuts watching it.
Lost Opportunities: As I said, I’m 30 and still have no fucking clue what I want to ‘be’, except I sure wouldn’t mind having money and being able to travel the world a bit. I look at asshats like the Gosselins or Heidi and Spencer Pratt & my blood boils because those douches haven’t done a damn thing except breed and get implants yet they’re set for life because of it. Meanwhile, all of us are working hard, Jeff is struggling to get his book out and we can’t get ahead. Where’s our reality show? So, I guess my lost opportunity would have been not taking career choices more seriously when I was younger. I hated school so much I vowed never to go to college and although I know I still could, something keeps me from signing the dotted line in that regard. I’m working as a glorified secretary for the city I live in & each paycheck wonder where the money has gone. I have been trying to buy a house since February, have saved up as much as I can without going insane and have watched every offer submitted go to some other loser who had the ability to pay cash, or more down, or closing costs.
Turns of Events: I often say that I am glad that in 2002 I was working a shit job at a warehouse for the Postal Service. Because of working at this shit job, with a bunch of mutants as co-workers, I noticed the one hot guy in the building who very shortly later turned out to be the guy I’m still with. He’s my best friend and I love him dearly. I don’t believe in marriage, so that ain’t happenin’ and the term ‘boyfriend’ sounds so pubescent that I’ll stick with ‘the guy’. I had been wanting to quit shit job, but I noticed the new guy, stuck around and the rest is history, or so they say.
Other than that I have a lot of regrets. I regret being such a damn skank in high school and spending too much time doing too much junk with the boys rather than doing what I should have been, like going to class and passing and stuff. I regret treating my mother like garbage especially now that I am older and can appreciate just what and why she fought as hard as she did for me. I regret not kicking my dad in the nuts the moment he quit the above job & defending my mother at that point.
As for the painful turd question, I honestly can’t remember. The puking was a hard enough subject to wrap my head around. Thanks for lightening things up from that!
Pagan and Melissa, thanks for those responses, they were awesome. It’s good to put some of that shit on paper (or on screen), huh? Just typing that stuff today made me feel a little better about the three jobs and the constant feeling that the man is keeping me down. You guys are great for puttin’ it out there.
@AngryWhiteGuy: Funny you said that. After I typed it I felt better for some reason about some of it. Not all of it, but some.
I’ll have to get back to you later, the “man” is breathing down my neck and I’ll need a little time to compose a proper answer for the deeper subjects.
I’ll need a little time here…Capt. Lou died. All the flags in the trailer park are at half-staff today.
Jesus Christ on a cracker, AWG!
Fake Dad: Nope, love him, I even look like a female version of him-which brings me to Fake MOM-she’s not, but I wish she were, as she reminded me daily growing up that it was such a shame that I took after my father and didn’t have her own superior bone structure. Glad Dad divorced her ass and married a very delightful, pleasant fake Mom to enjoy my daughter who looks nothing like me or my mother.
Lost Opportunities: Do you think I dreamed of being a fat secretary when I was young? That would be a “no”. I have a high IQ, did extremely well on my SAT’s, but have absolutely no motivation (except for partying back then), and barely ended up with an associates degree in Fashion Merchandising (high-schoolers beware, this is code for LIFE SUCKING RETAIL MANAGEMENT CAREER). Changing careers midlife to do the stimulating phone answering and document scanning that I do (while checking my FB account and reading the WVSR) at least has provided me with nights and weekends off, plenty of paid holidays, and twice the pay for half the work. I dream of succeeding at something creative, but I fear that I have destroyed every last brain cell devoted to that achievement.
Turns of Events: Too many, and it would end up sounding like a Twilight Zone episode.
Painful Turd? I got nothin’-perhaps you should acquire a couple of “dried plums” as the marketers are now calling them!
Wow that was cheaper than therapy and possibly more effective!
Not a good day to be reading the WVSR comments while eating lunch….
Jeff please come back !!! There is a sad soap opera starting to grow in your happy sit-com blog!!
S’OK, Tom, just answer the turd question.
A.W.G. I think everyone thinks about this kind of stuff You know shoulda coulda woulda. Life is that way and how you move forward is all that matters. I went though a divorce with my high school cheerleader sweetheart who turned into someone who broke my and our sons hearts with her cheating ways. The boys saw what happened and stayed with me. They were 17 and 12 at the time. I don’t think I could ever have the very close relationship I have with them now if that didn’t occur. I have a five year old Grandson who barley knows her and that makes me sad for her loss. I’ve since remarried and my wife is loved by all who know her.
Jobs.
I went straight to the big steel mills right out of high school and did well for about 5 years then shit hit the fan and struggled for about 10 years. Right place right time I landed a job in a machine shop worked hard and was promoted along the way.
Family
My Dad was 47 when I was born my Mom was 27. My Dad (R.I.P. 1995) was everyones friend and worked his ass off to give us 3 kids all that he could. Dirtbikes horses, used cars when we were 16. Mom treated him like shit and I watched it all as the youngest. I haven’t spoke to her for 4 years and have no plans to do so.
Can’t look back man just got to keep moving forward.
It’s the only thing that keeps me from jumping off that bridge I cross everyday.
AWG: Just this past Saturday I shat out a turd that was so large and hard that it made my asshole bleed. In fact, it took about 10 minutes just for it to start peeking out, and while it was working it’s way toward the sphincter, drops of blood actually fell from by bunghole into the toilet-water.
Your other topics depress me too much, so the above’ll have to do.
AWG:
You work for SWFWMD (or ‘swift-mud’)?
AWG—not my personal turd , but that of a friend who had been the hospital for several weeks and several surgeries.The narcotic pain meds had backed him up badly and they told him he couldn’t go home untill he dropped a duece.He popped some tube lube in his ass and after much screaming and yelling came out into the hall by the nurses station and at the top of his lungs announced that he had the baby and was headed home !
Wow…!! The Pukes and the Turds. I thought we were staying away from politics and religious sects.
WVSR Haiku
Jeff is in the yurt
No Update for us today
Pass the beer nuts please.
I’ll play this!!…
Andy needs to piss
“Quick Toney, grab the ladle”.
Never mind, he pooped.
Okay now that I’m finished with that, lets see if I can come up with something good.
Fake Dad-Nope I was fortunate to have a real Dad. He wasn’t always the best Dad but what are going to do. If I had listened to him when I was 17 life would have been a lot easier but we all need to burn our own path. 25 years later you realize you could have made some better decisions with money and such but as my neighbor sez, you can’t put a price on fun. My half brother might consider him a “fake” Dad but I doubt it. There was some differences in the way we were treated but that was also due to the differences in the way we acted, i.e. I didn’t steal and wreck the car when I was 14, (prolly cause I saw the beatdown he recieved and decided against it).
Turn of events or lost opportunity? After getting dumped by a girl I thought I was in love with I entered a man-whore stage of my life. At the end of this phase I had a fuck buddy. She lived 100 miles away but saw me about every other weekend. It went on for quite a while and suddenly I didn’t see her for about a month or so. When I finally ran into her (I was shit faced) we made small talk for a while when all of a sudden she informs me she had a miscarriage a week prior. Well I’m a dumbass and don’t know whether to console her or buy a round for the whole place. Needless to say that was it for the “relationship”. She eventually moved back to my hometown, married a little rich prick and now lives in a very nice home. And I ocassionally see her walking with a couple of kids in tow, still looking damn fine, I can’t help but wonder if I had been ready for a relationship at the time if I would still be single today.
My (almost) 9 year old daughter suggests that you…
well, basically make your dog a jockstrap out of a paper cup and an elastic. When he pees in it, you simply remove it.
I don’t know how realistic this is, but it sure made us snicker.
A turd that was turtle’s heading for ten minutes?! WTF do you eat – cheese, hard boiled eggs and superglue?
When my cat has to give a urine sample (and he does often – bad kidneys) they just stick a little syringe through his stomach into his bladder. Doesn’t seem to bother him much, and probably stresses him out less than being stalked by me wielding some pee-catching contraption.
‘turn of events’ not really but if I didn’t work with such dumbasses at the time, I wouldn’t have googled ‘dumb ass co-workers’ or something of the like and found you guys!
And now for something completly depressing…
My Mom is dead…my Dad’s a total prick and I’ve fucked up every aspect of my life starting in the second grade when Miss Juffer caught me moving my desk so I could get a better look up her dress.
There…I am cleansed!
My Dad…not really…but this is his general attiude without being so damn funny. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DtMV44yoXZ0
Jeff, this could very well be a WVSR “Trifecta” as today’s 1) question about one’s latest purging experience actually preceded my viewing of today’s 2) “Further Evidence” link (Wanda’s Macaroni Salad). After watching those meaty hands concoct that satanic side dish, I could feel the 3) chunks rise in the back of my throat. It was sometime between watching those poor veggies take their death slide into that hot mess and the test tasting, that I felt the need to haul ass so that I wouldn’t ‘buick fondue’ on my desk. Unless anyone hurled while reading today’s post, I am hoping to take the “most recent” prize…
Oh and before I forget, I have a giant-ass great dane and collecting a urine sample is damn near impossible. We were only lucky by making her hold it, following outside after she peed, sponging it up and squeezing the sponge into some container…disgusting yes, now I may vomit again.
AWG – I don’t really see the things I haven’t done, but want to, as lost opportunities. Rather they are just things I haven’t gotten around to yet. Either Academy Award winning actress or first woman President of the United States, will be my next career. The only thing that I haven’t done, that I might not ever get to do is have kids. That is a door that might just close on me. We’ll see.
Turn of events? Plenty. I think about that a lot. For instance – had I not chosen the college I did – which I hated and was a really bad choice for me – I probably wouldn’t have decided to do my junior year abroad. If I hadn’t done my junior year abroad, my high school sweetheart would not have had the opportunity knock up some slut he worked with, which led to their marriage and our break-up (although technically he never broke up with me – but I can take a hint) and my decision to continue working in radio instead of going straight to law school, and my radio gig led me to a super cute guitar player who is now my husband.
Funnily enough, I saw the HS sweetheart over the weekend and he had their newest baby with him. That is one effin cute baby, but I have to say that even though I am sorry that I have most likely missed the opportunity to have children, and even though I am quite fond of this guy’s kids, I wouldn’t trade my husband for all the kids in China. Especially if it meant I had to be married to the douchebag ex-boyfriend.
100!
Fake Dad:
I had a real Dad. I wish he would have taken an antidepressant. I’m sure it would have benefited him greatly. Nothing I ever did seemed to please him. And I really wasn’t that bad. Honor roll, cheerleader, homecoming queen, blah, blah, blah. But he made me feel like I was deficient. When I was in the middle of the suckiest marriage known to mankind, he encouraged me to remain there. So I did. Then when the shit hit the fan (husband of 23 years doesn’t “love me anymore” = girlfriend) he was there for me. My Dad was a bundle of contradictions. Now that’s he’s dead, I still feel resentment, but I miss him too. It’s crazy.
Lost Opportunies:
Never mind. I’m done. I can’t go there.
Turn of Events:
Ditto.
Painful Turd:
Ditto.
101 .. I will never be a 404
http://www.plinko.net/404/area404.asp
I puked about 3 weeks ago. Had to go to ER for lower abdomen pain – they gave me duladin and pain killers/antibiotics. The next morning I took my first dose of pills and promptly threw them up.
My favorite puking stories: Playing quarters with Dave in Sammamish during college days. He lost (again) and had to drink a lot of beer shots in a short amount of time. He puked over the balcony, almost onto my roommate’s head.
Lee Harvey Ramone-
Yes. Sitting here patiently awaiting some redneck farmer coming in and asking ME for more water for his crops, like I have the final say so.
Captain Lou died. Friends and family were shocked. I was too. I thought he died years ago.
On IPOD right now- “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin”- Sly and the Family Stone
AWG-
I have a “fake Dad” too. He kinda tried to be OK with me early on but the fact that I was someone else’s offspring pissed him off, I suspect. We fought like hell through my teens, then I ignored him and the rest of my family through my 20s. Within the past few years I’ve just said fuck it and started talking with him again, since he no longer thinks I’m a financial drain and we can talk with some semblance of civility. He couldn’t stand it when my Mom spent ANY money on me, but now that they have a kid (and I have a brother) his thinking on what you should provide for your kids has taken a drastic turn. At least he learned something from it. Maybe I did too.
Lost Opportunities: I wanted to go to vocational-tech school in high school, where you can pick a trade and train for it. With the rest of the drunks and drug abusers. My mom would not sign the consent form so I had to take the college prep route. I have a college degree now that is bullshit and a low paying job. If I had gone to vo-tech, I probably would have a pretty good paying job that can’t be outsourced. But, that leads to…
Turns of events: if I hadn’t gone to college, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with my (very recent) ex-girlfriend/fiancée. We were together for longer than most people are married these days — almost 2 decades. I guess I should just think I’m lucky to have been with someone that long and try to remember the good memories, but at this stage I’m just fucking hurt. Hence the alcohol and chemicals.
Fucking hell, that’s a depressing way to start the day. Not going to add a turd story to liven it up either.
Alcohol and chemicals, chemicals and alcohol. It’s a wonderful life!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bK-Dqj4fHmM
My real Dad has been in and out of jail his whole life, I don’t really know him. My brother and I got a FAKE DAD when we were very young. Fake Dad and my mother had my half sister. He was a real son of a bitch. Even when we were little boys he’d “spank” us with a 2×4 that he kept atop the fridge. He once saw my little brother walking around with a box of matches that he’d found on the arm of the couch. He taught him a lesson about “playing with matches” by holding his hand over a gas burner on the stove. He had to go to the hospital because of it and still has burn scars on his palm. He was all of 3 years old. He did lots of shit like that. Punched the wind out of us, punched our noses, shit like that. He drove a truck for Coors for a while but soon quit. My mother worked shift work to support us and she had to beg him not to use more than one slice of bologna on his sandwiches because that’s all we had to last us the week.
They eventually divorced and we haven’t seen him since. He’s been moving around the contry working cash jobs, or whatever, to avoid paying any child support for my sister. She’s now 28. He has seen her in at least 20 years. I promised myself that once I got older I’d kill him if I ever saw him again. I still feel the same way.
If I hadn’t gotten fired in Texas I never would have moved to Alabama to start a masonry business with my cousin. If we hadn’t gone bankrupt I wouldn’t have gotten my real estate license. If I hadn’t agreed to go to a certain church one time with my Aunt I wouldn’t have met my wife.
Now I sell real estate and we have 2 kids and 1 on the way. It’s weird how I eneded up here. Living with these strangers in a place far away from where I grew up. Being in real estate isn’t always a bowl of cherries, by the way. I had two deals that were supposed to close today (15th) and I found out the day before yesterday that one of them wasn’t going to work, and I found out today that the remaining one isn’t going to work. $15,000 went poof. You think that doesn’t hit you in the gut when you have a family and your wife doesn’t work? Now we’re broke for at least another month.
Ahhh, I feel somewhat better now.
“I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they’ve always worked for me.”
Hunter S. Thompson
Wow, Jason, good stuff there! Funny how the church thing worked for finding your wife. Anyone I ever got hooked up with in a “church situation” could not accept my (then) drug and alcohol dependancy, or my disdain for organized religion. My current wife was the exception to make me quit that stuff, otherwise, don’t know where I would be now. Probably dead.
I guess the difference between the above “fake dad” stories and mine is that this guy was being passed off to be real dad throughout my childhood. I always knew he could not fucking ever be my real dad, but I always thought Jerry West, basketball superstar, was the real one. That’s right, Mom fucked him too. Anyway it’s funny how things work out.
I know this was a sensitive and somewhat morbid subject to tackle, but those that let it all hang out, I think the world of you for putting it out there for your invisible friends to read.
On IPOD right now- “Whole Lotta Rosie”- ACDC
Jason I’d kill the motherfucker too. Hope you find him someday. Hurting kids is the line in the sand for death for me.
AWG: Fake dad thing: I never really knew my dad. He blew into town when I was 7-8 years old and that was the first time I met him. He was in the military when I was born and after a tumultuous year of marriage, he and my mom split up. I was shipped back to live with my grandparents while my mom lived the hippy life in Haight Ashbury and my dad went AWOL.
He did a couple stints in asylums, got married a few more times and gave me a couple of half-sisters..(whom I met in my 30′s)
My mom did an outstanding job of replacing my dad with fake dads. There were four legal ones whom she married and a whole slew of others who just didn’t have what it takes to marry my mother. Poor bastards.
They were all fake dads with the majority of them being mostly bad fake dads.
I actually consider my grandparents to be more like my parents. Same with my half-brother (courtesy of fake dad #1.)
Fake dads #1 and #2 both served in Viet Nam during their marriages to my mom. Let’s just say that absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder…
#3 fake dad was a hippy growing his own dope in a log cabin with no electricity. He was a special one, let me tell you.
#4 fake dad is still around although I’m still not sure how the hell that happened. I’m thinking about writing a book, just to try to figure it all out in my head. It’s pretty complicated and diverse.
I’ll give some thought on the other two topics but that’s all I got for you today.
Wow so many stories.
Missed opportunities……I did not figure out that I am smart until I was already knocked up and stuck in a factory at 19 where I still work today but thru a series of events I am now in a much better position with the company than on the assembly line.
Had i not been late for school Dec 4th 1986 I would not have become friends with WHITE TRASH BARBIE. Had we not become friends I woudl not have told her about the WVSR and we woudl not all be better educated about flu vaccines and other important things. See my life has helped us all out.
painful turds- Both times I was pregnant I would poop softballs. It was awful but in hindsight it was probably why I was able to deliver both children with relative ease. Now that I am in the advanced stages of alcoholism I have quite the opposite problem. TMI blame AWG he can take it.
I blame others for all of my problems. I blame AWG specifically. Had he not asked the question about dads, I wouldn’t be obsessing again over shooting some loser in the brain. As it is I’m going to fly to Arizona very soon in search of my prey. Who knows what can come of it? Will I meet someone that helps me find a new job? Will I eat some bad ham and lose a lot of weight? Will I become a Morman and pick up a few more wives? The possibilities are endless and exciting. Thanks, AWG. Maybe good, maybe bad.
@Qweezy Mark
“One day everyone will know someone dead whose favorite movie was ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’…and then nobody will be able to watch the fucking thing anymore” — Styrenes, “All the Wrong People Are Dying”
But yeah…alcohol and chemicals!
@DTO — Long live HST!
The best I got to do to fake dad was to knock him down a flight of stairs with my mom’s ironing board. Swung it like Ted Williams. Then I hit the door with the clothes on my back and never looked back.
You might want to take a lot of sunscreen.
On IPOD right now- “Poor Tom”- Led Zep
My dad is the real deal.
He’s old school Lee Marvin, Spent time in the army and merchant navy (looks like Ernest Borgnine meets Danna Andrews) and is nails.
I remember with fondness, after falling off my bike aged 10, him telling me in his gentle way ‘ If your looking for sympathy you’ll find it in the dictionary. It’s between ‘shit’ and ‘syphallis’.
He’s got a wicked sense of humour and I’m proud to be his son.
I once missed an opportunity in my early twenties when I was working in a bar in Spain, to travel to Amsterdam with a Dutch goddess I’d been ‘seeing’. She was going to let me stay with her and get me job picking hash. I cleverly got my foot trapped in the elevator into the pubs cellar on my last night, ( the only time I’ve heard myself scream!) she had to leave on her own,and I never saw her again.
The five seconds that changed my life was when
I got my throat cut when I was managing a bar in Scotland. I swear an angel pulled me out of the way. (I’ve never moved so quickly before, and I didn’t even see the knife). 36 stitches. I am very lucky to be here.
The crazy fellow got 7 years for attempted murder.
( it was over the fact that I wouldn’t serve him a pint! -seems fair!)
I drifted into office work, and here I am.
I really feel I need to do something grand to compensate for this being my life defining moment.
I know I’ve got two great kids and a black belt in karate and all that but I could do with pulling a kid out of a river or something that would give me in instant ‘hit’
Ya know?
I’ll keep my eyes open when I’m walking near watercourses!
Tammie, maybe you need to go to your yurt to figure things out.
I guess there is nothing new to distract us from the vomiting stories today. Here’s a new question for the overnighters.
Who was the nastiest male or female you ever did it with? Mine was a 240 pound young woman named Karen who I knew from the Bob Evans days. She was nice and all, but had a lot of disgusting habits, like outeating me and farming out (if you don’t know about this, it is the act of covering one nostril and blowing snot out the other one onto the ground.) She DID know how to twist it, though. (I think most of you dudes will get that).
On TV right now- “Antz”- that’s right, the five year old controls the TV at this hour. I did get to watch Around The Horn and Pardon the Interruption, though. Good enough for me.
TV…Phils @ Dodgers, 8pm EST, TBS..I’m headed to the trhid floor.
Ian is that you? I’m sorry i had a sex change and cut your throat! Nothing personal but when a newly minted man needs a pint! He needs a pint!!!!!!
THIRD…crap. Maybe next time I should just do…3rd.
I mean…dyslexic…ok… but trhid needs a whole new category. I guess I doubled down.
Well AWG here goes. I had a real mom and dad – real screwed up. I feel bad saying that because my mother was a sweet and good person, a really loving and affectionate parent. My dad was funny, an intelligent and patient explainer of things. However, I didn’t see him a lot when I was younger because he was in the air force and was often stationed in other parts of the world. During those times my mom would rent a little house close to her family. When he was stationed in the states, we’d move with him in a house close to the base.
When he was away, times were mostly good. But being alone with two “young’ns” was hard for her, and she would sometimes drink to escape. When she was drunk, her personality and appearance would change completely. She would become ugly, uncaring and abusive. She had a lot of baggage and would bring it out during those times, venting to me, a little kid, about her first marriage which had turned really bad.
But things were a lot worse when they lived together. During my first grade year, my dad came back from France and was stationed at Charleston SC. Things were good at first – I started school and despite my initial fears things were OK there. Then my parents started drinking heavily in the evenings, every night. I didn’t like it, but I was occupied with Humpty Dumpty magazine and comics and stuff and things were still not terrible.
Then for some reason they started having horrendous arguments that would quickly escalate into violence. They would be sitting on the couch, talking, when something would set them off, and they were off the couch and standing up, fighting like giant monsters, my dad clenching my mother’s hair and throwing her to the floor.
One night my mother was in the bedroom with me, in my little brother’s bed (he was in the main bedroom asleep) and they bickered for what seemed like hours. My dad was in the living room, drinking as usual, and they argued through the door. Suddenly something set him off, and he ran into the room, grabbing a broom on the way, and he repeatedly beat my mother with the handle, slamming it down on her chest and stomach. Pure horror.
That vision is burned into my memory, but there’s a gap after that, and the next thing I can remember is the trip in the ambulance. I wasn’t hurt, but my brother and I were riding with our mother as she was taken to the hospital. Amazingly, she had two or three broken ribs and was otherwise unhurt. Also amazingly, they stayed together, and the whole cycle would repeat again and again. After one fight my mom had to get dentures.
After that year, he was stationed outside of the states again,for a year or so, and there was a time of relative calm, after we had moved, once again.
I won’t go any further with this stuff, but there were more bad times to come. I still have a lot of anger that I haven’t dealt with properly. For years after when I remembered those fights that had occured during my first grade year, I would become so enraged at my dad I would involuntarily strike out with my right fist, like I could reach back into the past and stop him from beating my mother.
They have both been gone for several years now, but I can’t seem to forgive him, even though doing that would be in my best interest.
I’ll have to leave my turning points and turd stories for another day.
Sometimes, those who are raised by the worst of parents, end up being the very best of parents as a result. I didn’t have any fakes, but I wish I could share my parents with those who did.
wellp on a lighter note…i dont know if it was my last puke but it’s the last i can remember…had a little holiday get together/gift exchange with some friends a few years ago. Me being the alcoholic I am(was) received a nice glass with my name engraved on it.
Skip ahead a few hours and midway through a jaeger toast my stomach wasnt having the spicy sweetness and i proceeded to lose my dinner IN the glass cup i received as a gift. nothing says christmas like some red puke in a glass.
Trish – nicely said.
We have fresh YURT pictures
(for those of you not on twitter)
Jeff recently posted these:
http://thewvsr.com/yurt15.htm
@ the dutch goddess, whoever you are,
I’m trying hard to think of a witty comeback but all I’m getting is,
‘fuck the fuck off, twat’
so that’ll just have to do.
P.s. the idiot that cut my throat couldn’t have written this anyway as he has since died from an overdose, you twat, again.
@ Trish – Nicely said.
Some of you guys sound like you have had some really bad experiences with your parents. I hope that the good times you’ve had since then have made up for them a little, and I sincerely hope that there will be plenty more of them for you in the future.
Tilly, my lovely, you make me laugh. Yes, it is true. I am an insufferable know-it-all. Oh, and BTW, that was 1985 not 1986.
Trish- good observation there. It’s too bad that it doesn’t ALWAYS work that way, as some douchebag parents create future douchebags, but some, like Ed survive to be a better person. I find myself to be in that category, as I am an awesome parent, spending every spare moment I have, when not working, with my kids.
Ed- I too saw the rage my fake dad spewed upon my mom, and swore to get even with him when I was older and strong enough. Knocking him down the stairs was a great feeling, but I wished I could have broken his neck. I have let the grudge go now, as he is just a mellow old man now. Now that yours are gone, forgiveness might be moot, but it seems like you are on the road to peace with yourself about it. Thanks for letting us in. You rock!
The nastiest sex stories are still up for grabs, if we don’t hear from JK today. Those might be a little lighter topic.
On IPOD right now- “Psalm 69″- Ministry
AWG- I couldn’t agree more. Some people just shouldn’t be allowed to breed. If you have to take a test to join the services or get a license, then maybe you should have to take a test to be a parent too.
Sweet! I love Ministry!
Trish- saw them with Thrill Kill Cult a few years ago at an outdoor courtyard that can only hold about 1500 people called Jannus Landing in St. Pete. Has to be in the top 5 of the 300 or so concerts I have seen. Saw them a couple of times before that, but the sound was distorted at both venues, even by their standards. Outside is the way to see them.
Thanks AWG!
@AngryWhiteGuy
Fake dad: didn’t have one. Had a real one, who thought appropriate reaction to a smartass comment from a 10 year old was to pick me up under my arms, and throw me about 10 feet, backwards, in to a sticker patch. He had always been quick with the belt, but things weren’t ever the same after that. Had the parents not divorced not long after that incident, I probably would have killed him. As it stands, I did end up pulling a gun on him, when he & mom were having a particularly nasty fight in the kitchen. He had her in a bear hug, and was hitting the cabinets with her head, but that’s what he considers “defending himself.” I told him he could get the fuck out, or die where he stood. Mom & sis will both attest to that.
Given my childhood, and the punishments therein, I have never laid a hand on my children, save once, when my 6 year old earned a single, open hand swat on the bottom, for throwing a fork at her mother.
Missed opportunities: Hmm…. there were probably many, but I have managed to forget them.
Right place, right time: 18 years old, in a band, on the way to the studio to record some drum tracks. I had a bottle of Beam, and needed some cokes to mix. Stopped at a convenience store, where I ran in to my middle school girlfriend. We chatted for a bit, and I invited her to the studio. She came along, I got my tracks done, along with several drinks each, and we went back to her place. I’m turning 39 in 9 days. She and I have been married for 17 years, now. And here’s the kicker…… She was at the convenience store, visiting her fiancee at work…… heh.
JeffInDenver- just revisited the older updates, since Wednesday’s is late. Great stories.
Too bad about the Rockies. I was really pulling for them. Is snow in October the norm there, or was that rare? Im hoping it snows like a bitch in Philly and NY during the series to convince Selig to shorten the season or something.
October’s an interesting month, every year. Some years, we get fall, and slowly ease in to winter. I remember on year, literally playing golf, in shorts, the day after Christmas. Then, like this year, September 30 is sunny, and 76 degrees. October 1 is overcast, snowing, and 32 degrees. October is a very bipolar month here.
Yeah, I was a little disappointed in the Rockies, especially after we took one in Philly. I thought they’d beat Philadelphia, then lose to the Dodgers in 6. LA has had our number for the last several seasons.And, Selig loves the allmighty dollar FAR too much to shorten the season. If anything, he’ll mandate domed stadiums, and extend the season…….