Sigh...time share sales pitch
Do you ever wonder about "those people"? You know, the ones that willingly subject themselves to a time share presentation just to get the "fabulous free gifts"?
Well, chalk me up as one of those people.
You see, the last home renovation show we went to, Corinna went hog-wild filling out the "enter for a free draw" contests. Of course, what those draw boxes are REALLY for is to get contact information of poor suckers that are used by telemarketers, timeshare salesmen, and other assorted bottom-of-the-barrel salesmen.
Well, sure enough we got called. We "won" (and I use that term loosely) a digital camera, $100 spa package, and 3-day (2 night) stay at a luxurious resort. All we had to do is spend 90 minutes of our time listening to a presentation on the benefits of time share ownership with this company.
I was steadfast fucking against going. My parents got suckered into it ONCE...and that was one time too many. I rebelled against going and it nearly started World War Three. Cori was of a different opinion, thinking that it would be "easy" to tell them that we weren't interested. As she saw it, it was ONLY 90 minutes and that's it.
I told her she was prolly sitting in a running car in a parking garage if she ACTUALLY believed that shit...but she would have none of it.
So we went to the presentation. The "client service representative" we had as our hostess was brand spanking new to the job and didn't know the first thing about sales. She was ALSO in her second year of University so I don't blame her. She asks us some "data collection" statistics and Cori and I are top-notch clients. Example: We have spent money on vacations to Australia, to Mexico, Stateside, and plan on going to Greece and Italy in the near future. We are in their top income bracket AND we have no kids. We are young, too, which means we have many years of vacationing in front of us.
In other words, we couldn NOT have had bigger targets on our back if we tried.
We go through the presentation and we get to the "sales room". As I said, our hostess blew at sales and didn't do a good job convincing us. We asked for our free gifts (because, lo and behold, we had gone PAST the 90-minute timeline) and she told us she couldn't gift us until we had talked to a "senior sales relationship manager".
So we finally meet said manager. And it's ANOTHER kid of 21 years of age who, again, has no sales experience. He tries a few tactics to make a sale, but it's clear we're not going to bite -- I mean, c'mon, we're two University educated people...you're NOT going to be able to pull a fast one on us.
In the end, here's what we "won".
-- A 100K pixel digital camera. That's right...about the biggest piece of shit that you can imagine. (By way of comparison, our own digital camera is 5 MEG pixel camera).
-- A stay in the said condinium that they were trying to sell us on, and a spa package at said condo. The only catch? We have to listen to ANOTHER sales pitch!
I am REALLY tempted to go. After all, the place looks gorgeous and it's in Canmore (read: skiing). I'm going to get Cori to book a ski trip, and we'll invite 2 other couples to come with us. The catch is that one of THEM will have to go to the presentation!
Houle's Stag
So I've been finding hidden obscure emails on my computer lately both at home and at work that relate to AMAZING times we've had as a group of friends. One of those was Houle's stag... This was sent as an email, but deserves to be immortalized in a blog entry.
FRIDAY NIGHT
Me, Kenton, and Garth roll into Sylvan Lake around 8:00 on Friday night. Immediately we are struck with a sense of awe, because the main campsite is pretty sweet. Bissel managed to snag a 60’ by 40’ tarp – or maybe it was bigger? – and that bastard is strung over where we’d be spending most our time during the weekend. In the mean time, the three of us crack open a few beers and THEN put up our tents.
Me and Garth then drive back to the front of the campsite – already half cut at this time – and try to self register. Lord tunderin’ Jesus that was difficult. But eventually we pay our 50 boners (holy piss is it expensive to sleep on fucking rocks in a tent) and head back to the camp. I have my neon on and all these little kids are amazed by the neon. BAAAAMMMMM!!! (This had nothing to do with the stag, but makes me look cool and it’s my fucking pictorial essay).
Here are some pictures of Friday night. I’m doing this at work and don’t have any photo software…some of the pictures are SO dark; I’ll try to describe what’s going on.
Here you see me, Walls, Kenton, Houle, and Patty sitting around. Walls is reaching for a big bottle of Champagne from Kenton.
These are all Armitage’s pictures. And here he is being a cunt. It is pitch black and he’s snapping pics just ‘cause the flash is bright. Pictured are Jon’s uncle Andrew, Pratch, J.R., and Garth who is nonplussed as usual.
The first night was so fucking cold. I don’t know that it rained or not, but I do remember that none of the ice in the coolers was melting and the fire, from where I was sitting, was little more than a light source and did sweet fuck all to warm us up.
Littering And….Littering And…Littering And…
…smoking the reefer. While none of you would be surprised to hear that Army was smoking a big fattie on Friday, how many of you knew Garth did the same? He didn’t just pull from one joint…but from two! Later on in the evening Garth would have to puke. Booze or pot…the culprit is still unknown.
The rest of the evening was just a great time among friends. No real crazy shenanigans. But someone made a joke about how Jon would soon never be able to fuck anyone else ever again. Everyone laughed…except me and Andrew, ‘cause we were both married and this was a burn against us as much as it was against Houle.
It is important to note two things. One…yes, that is a BOX OF WINE. Armitage would later try to force feed it down our throats. J.R. would yak it up on his hoodie.
Two…this may have been when we called Jay Doss. Time: 3:00 in Philly. Woke up his Dad. Bissel LIED and said that he was calling from Taiwan and that he wasn’t aware what time it was back in North America. In a word, it was BRILLIANT. (Jay would later tell us that their "call display" totally busted us...)
Further to my marijuana comments above, thank god for Hot Rods
Did Houle take this picture? “Cause what the fuck is up with the weird angle…someone must have been drunk as fuck here. The shot of the table shows the glasses we used for Jager Bombs. We polished off two, 26oz bottles in about an hour.
It’s, like, 3 am here. Scabs throws on a whole bag of wood onto the fire.
The destruction of property! So many of you have seen how Patty and Scabs will wrestle when they get drunk. Friday night was no different. The only problem is that they wrestled right into Joe’s new car. The dent in the drivers’ side front quarter panel was HUGE. If Joe was pissed, you couldn’t tell. But he’d have his revenge….by making sure Patty had a shitty night. Observe:
This is Patty’s tent. Patty is in there sleeping. Yes…the tent IS fucked-up beyond all belief.
And here’s Patty’s tent as it would end up by the next morning!
SATURDAY DAY What a shitty sleep the first night was. Drunk as hell, cold, and my fucking air mattress had a leak in it. Oh well…I get up, take a piss, and mosey into the campsite. Unbelievably, Kris and Bissel are already up and they cleaned up from the destruction of the night before. Trouble was that they threw everything plastic in the fire and light a match. The smoke was so black and so think that It looked like they threw a tire into the fire! Christ…I’m suing when the biopsy comes back and confirms that I got cancer.
This picture is taken no more than 3 feet away from Joe and Pratch…and yet you can barely see them. Why? Because the fucking black smoke is obscuring everyone’s vision!Kris was our cook for the weekend. Breakfast consisted of the following. 1. Place one pound of bacon in a cast iron pan. Cook til completed. 2. Crack open a dozen eggs. Drop on top of the bacon and the one-inch thick bacon grease. 3. Cook until done; salt and pepper to taste. 4. Serve.
This tasted much better than it looks. But my heart stopped with all the cholesterol and grease from the bacon fat.
Sadly, this is the hand of the guy cooking the food...
The order of the day was a round of paintball. There were twelve of us in total and we would have been 13, but Scabs pussed out on us. I’ll give you the recap, as there aren’t really that many pictures. 12 people. 3 hours.
10,000 paintballs purchased and used. And Moose, yes, it WAS satisfying to shoot at Wigmore.
There is something very Starsky and Hutch about this picture.
Houle getting into his bright yellow coveralls. I volunteered to be on his team for two reasons. The first being the fact that everyone would be out to get him and I’d be relatively safe. The second being the opportunity to shoot him in the back – friendly fire style.
Oh yeah. That’s the shit.
Okay…who jizzed on Colin’s head?
No doubt about it. THIS is the best photo of the weekend!
Some of us were kind of choked that Scabs didn’t come paint balling with us, ‘cause we wanted to shoot him!! But we thought we’d get him back…so we purchased 2 PAINT BALL GRENADES. We planned to do a drive by grenading. Sadly, Scabs wasn’t there when we got back. But there are more stories of Scabs jumping on a live grenade – more to come!
Realizing that we all stunk like shit, we went off the shower house. That’s when Patty and I had a BRILLIANT idea. We’d wait for Houle to go shower and then when he got back, we’d get HIM with the paint grenade – thereby fucking up his whole shower.
Sadly, the grenades didn’t pan out…Moose would get a bigger bang out of fucking a fat chick than we did with those grenades. Garth’s shirt got sprayed a tiny bit but that’s about it. $16 down the god damned drain for nothing!
SATURDAY NIGHT Of course, this is what we were waiting for. We got Jon all prettied up for this big night on the town:
We called Robin and asked her if she would strip would quarters. I told her she could use them for laundry…but she declined. No matter, ‘cause the hockey game was on that night, so we ran into town to watch the game. We went to “Big Chief’s Pub and Eatery”. They had this amazing back room that was COMPLETELY empty – I don’t think we had booked it, but I could be wrong – with a television just for us. The waitress (Holly) was stunned…there were a LOT of guys and she was the only one working. But it was okay, ‘cause we made life easy for her. ALL we ordered were pitchers of PILSNER and Caesar’s. Booze flowed like water and a game of two bear started. IN the bar! And then, during the first intermission, the owner of the pub (note: he ACTUALLY was an Indian) ran into the back room and gave us a bottle of tequila ON THE HOUSE!
Honestly…what an amazing photo. In the background is Holly bringing out her umpteenth tray of Caesars. You can see the two twonies we used for Two Bear and Joe is half corked with the bottle of tequila.
P.S. Houle was a fucking pussy. Couldn’t even finish his shot. Okay…so big deal that it was half the glass...it was the dude’s stag for Christ’s sake!
Partying like it’s 1999. After the Oilers win, it was a shit show!
Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole… OILERS WIN!
TWO BEAR! HOO, HOO, HOO, HOO!!!!
The Quest for the Triple Double
At this point, I need to make a digression. You see, after the win, Kenton and I went to track down the local Mickey D’s to get Houle a triple double. We leave the bar and start giving high fives to everyone we come across on the street. I run into a bar – trip up a pair of steps (to the gasp of the crowd) – and yell GO OILERS! Then I high five everyone in that bar and we leave.
We walk for what seems like fucking MILES. But I don’t care ‘cause me and Kenton are chanting, “Tittles for Smytty”, and “Take it Off for Samsonov” and “Shirts off for Horcoff”.
Well, we happen to be walking through a trailer court at the time and this bitch YELLS at me from her window. “Did you just call me a whore” she asks? I look around. In the yard are 5 bicycle and tricycles. Clearly, the answer to her question is YES…but I think better of coming back with THAT reply. Instead, I yell again, “Shirts off for Horcoff”. Regrettably, I see no tits.
Kenton and I keep walking, but we’re clearly lost. And drunk. And scary looking. So what do we do? Why, ask for directions from two 13 year old girls. Wow…instead of running away screaming and calling the cops, they actually stopped and talked to us. In other news, I regret that our society doesn’t teach the children to not talk to scary strangers.
Finally we get to the Mick Dicks. Trouble is that (a) we’re on foot in the drive through and (b) they are closed. But we convince the girl to let us buy triple doubles anyways. Unlike the fat pig at the Mickey Dee’s the last time we got these burgers, this lady makes no rude comments. She was an absolute delight.
But the question becomes: how the fuck are we going to get back to the bar? It was if God himself heard our pleas because up roars this truck through the drive through – backwards – containing two 16 year old kids. Naturally, we grab a ride. The ride back to the bar is silent…until I point out that Kenton is leaving Canada to go to England to be a Phys Ed head master at an all girls high school. The one kid tells us that he was thinking of dropping out of school, but because of Kenton’s tale, he is instead going to go to his principal on Monday and ask what courses he needs now so that HE can do the same thing in the future.
When we get back to the bar, the show is ridiculous. Kris is gone and is hitting on women outside:
Uh, not bad…but there would be WAY better women shortly
It takes him fucking an hour, I swear, but eventually Jon polishes off the triple double and then sets his sights on hitting on the hot cougars in the bar. I saddle up to some of the yummy mummy’s myself – back rubs, and the like – and get them to kiss Jon on the lips, you know, for his stag. They ask us what we do. I mention that I’m getting my MBA, that Patty is a CA, that we have a couple of lawyer friends, some are in med school, etc. This gets them VERY excited – I’m certain they would have left their husbands if we asked them. Instead, they tried to set us up with their 26 year old daughters! (I am NOT shitting you on this). They actually called their daughters to come to the bar! Most of us said that we were taken, but what about “that guy” (that guy, of course, meaning Kris). The moms politely, but firmly, state no way in hell.
We pay our bill at Chiefs. It is honestly something like $700 and then we leave. The moms are sad to see us go. So is Holly got she got a HUGE tip…and I’m not talking about the mushroom kind either.
CHEF’s
You cannot even begin to imagine how drunk I am at this time. Of course, this is when the best stories happen...so I hope I can remember them. Chefs is the “it” bar in Sylvan at the moment and it is packed. There is a live band, so Patty, me, and a few others go dance – by ourselves – for a little while. But we need to fuel up with more booze. I buy these two chicks each a porn star. They just tuned 18 and had just turned a guy down (age ~22) ‘cause he was too old for them. So here I am (age 27) buying them drinks and they are absolutely loving it! They tell me that I am such a nice guy…shows that they know NOTHING.
I walk around the bar with drinks in hand. Kris is talking to this smoking hot blonde. I see right away that she is married (I don’t know that Kris knew). So I go up to her, introduce myself, and ask her, “Isn’t it amazing how easy it is to pick up now that you’re married”? She agrees.
Ooops…BUSTED.
I continue my walk about. Kenton is chatting up two yummy mummy’s in the back corner of the bar. I sit down and start talking to them. Carmen (Kenton’s got her eye) and Sonya (I’ve gotten hers)! Seriously…what the fuck is with chicks named Sonya…they are ALL cougars (Moose knows what I mean). To say that these two girls are into us is an understatement of the century.
Observe the following conversation I had with Sonya:
Sonya: So, Dave, what do you do for a living?
Me: Well, I work for the Department of Finance for the Province.
Sonya: Ooooh. It sounds like you’re good at controlling things. Would you like to control me?
Me: Uh…lady, I have to go! Casual flirting is fine but that is crossing the line. Which is too bad, ‘cause she had GREAT tits for a mom with a 17 year old daughter. Now…had she offered to throw HER in the mix too, then maybe I would have had temporary amnesia on the vows. I mean, I KEED, I KEED! Kenton would later tell me that Sonya was sorry that she had scared me off…
Now, as it turned out, there was a stagette in the bar at the same time we were there. JACKPOT. We immediately hook up with them. The chick – a SMOKING HOT blonde – is wearing a suck for a buck candy necklace and drinking from a penis cup. Here are some pictures…they speak for themselves. Wow was she hot.
Our lovely lass now seems less than impressed with the constant attention.
Uh, I do believe Patty is reaching for a bra strap back there. Man was he LIT that night.
Patty kissing another girl. He was on fire that night. Patty would stay with her most of the night and could have so scored…but she had a HUGE ass. Patty DID come home that night – thankfully, he realized that sleeping with her would be a bad idea.
So, you may be wondering why I don’t appear in any of these photos. Was it ‘cause I tried but got shot down…or that I am too smart to do this shit and have it get caught on camera? The answer is neither…
You see, I would start with the MONEY line of “Excuse, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think I know you”. (Seriously, use this. Not only does it make you seem disarming and not a creep, but it opens up another way to have a conversation with the lady). But while it IS a good line, in this particular case, it turned out that I DID KNOW THEM – or, at least, know of them.
Turns out that MOST of the women from the stag did currently live, or lived at one time, in Drayton Valley – my home town! There was no way I was going to pull shit when there was a chance my old man could find out…’cause I’d STILL be in intensive care if my dad thought I was doing anything unbecoming towards my wife.
There was a shooter girl that would stop by our area quite often. Not only were we spending money like water, but we were getting HER drunk too. Naturally, she loved us. She came by and asked me and Patty if we wanted a shot. We said we’d do one…so when she asked what shot we wanted, we replied, “the whole tray”. Holy fuck was that expensive…and we did it twice, if I recall…but it was worth it.
We used the shots as currency for sexual favors in the bar. Okay, just joking, but the prospect of free booze did excite all the ladies around us. I honestly had fistfuls of shots in my hand at any one time. I gave this one shot to this gal who took a real shine to me…stroked my arm, told me how much she appreciated the shot, etc. But otherwise, she was really quite.
Why was this important? I mean, are we still in high school here? Well, no…of course not. But I tell you this because at the end of the night, the band was on its encore, we all went out to dance. This same lady made a bee line for me…grabbed my hand and practically dragged me to the dance floor. (Uh, not that I minded). Once there she proceeded to grind with me. What’s my favorite state? OH-HIO-OH!!!!
I wish I had a picture of the look on Patty’s face…it was priceless. Honestly, I hadn’t even said more than two sentences to this girl the WHOLE NIGHT and here she was rubbing her gash on my leg and shoving her tits into my chest. I love Cori more than life itself…but I’m not going to lie...it was kinda hot.
And I’m not the only one who enjoyed the dancing. Scabs was also dancing with a fine lass. Okay, that’s a lie…there was NOTHING fine about her. OMFG was she huge beast. Remember how I said earlier that Scabs would later jump on a live grenade? Well, this was it! But the thing was that there was NO NEED to do so…he was playing wing man but no one needed it! Oh Jeremy….you crazy, crazy fool.
Eventually we left the bar. Got a cab ride to the gates of the campsite, but had to walk back in, in the pitch dark. When we got back, people were NOT in good shape…a lot of them puked. I think this is J.R.??
I don’t know how…but I never puked and I drank enough to tranquilize a horse that night. We all did…and the money we spent; well, lets just say that there is a lien against my house as we speak.
Back at the campsite, we decided to cook some food. Walls was in the nicotine fit of his life – would not shut up about it, actually -- and wanted one of Jeremy’s tasty hot dogs.
The problem is that Jeremy would fuck up and the wieners ended up in the fire! So instead a cook Walls a whole fucking steak – he wouldn’t remember eating it when I asked him about it the next day!
Eventually Houle, the little pussy, would go to bed. Thus, we threw rocks at his tent for the next hour to try to wake him up…it didn’t work.
At some point, and I don’t remember when, I too went to bed. We woke up in the morning hung over like you can’t believe, and cleaned up and left. It was honestly one of the best weekends of my life – even with no strippers and lap dances – and if you missed it without having a good excuse, then you’re a dumb fuck. (Looking at you here, Jody…)
Ain't no party like a New Year's Party
I don't have all the pictures; check back once I get the best of Garth's, Sanchu's and my Digital Camcorder pics / movies uploaded.New Year's Eve featured a once in a life time handicap match worthy of the greatest of all PPV boxing matches, UFC events, or Wrestlemania's.
6 men (Me, Chad, Garth, Turkey, Sanchu, Moose)
vs.
1 Texas Mickey of Bacardi Rum.
And, with special guest referee -- Beer Pong (with Rum instead of beer).
So, in case you didn't know, Chad and Robin have this bazillion dollar house on the farthest western point of Calgary and we headed down for a New Year's eve party of epic proportions. Sanchu, from Poland, and Moose, from Australia, were both back in Canada and at this party. As such, it promised to be an amazing time.
We get to Calgary in near record time, despite the fact that this 18 year old dipshit tried to explain to us how to drink Big Bear (Moose and I bought two for the party). As we proceeded to tell him, we had been drinking the stuff since he was in diapers and that we seriously didn't "need any pointers".
Upon arrival in Calgary, however, we had to find Chad and Robin's place which was easier said than done. FOLLOWING ROBIN'S EXACT INSTRUCTIONS, we wound up at the Calgary zoo were I had to ask the Zebra for directions, and had to plow through downtown core road construction before finally arriving at their place.
And what a house it is! To say that Chad and Robin have a small house is to say that the L.A.P.D. only beat Rodney King a little bit! Okay...so the place isn't a mansion, but it is pretty swank. The best part is how they have next to no furniture BUT Chad DOES have this INSANE plasma T.V.
As parties with this group of people go, this one featured very few evil shenanigans. But oh what shenanigans they were! Things really ramped up and got out of control long after midnight when most people had gone home!
1. Beer pong, no...not the "cup-in-diamond-formation", but rather the kind you saw on Beer Fest was a staple. Only instead of cups of beer we had cups of Rum and Hawaiian punch. Ugh
Despite what the movies may have you believe, it is IMPOSSIBLE to "sink and drink" the ping pong ball. Instead, we had a rule that if you knocked over a cup of booze you had to down the entire OTHER cup of booze in one shot. I made the fatal mistake of doing it once. So did Sanchu and Turkey. Chad -- that poor bastard -- had to do it TWICE. (I have video of Chad knocking over the cup -- if I can ever figure out the software to my new digi camcorder I'll post it to this blog).
Even Kei and Wei got in the action. Now, the Quasars are provincial ping-pong champs (and, yes, for those that don't know they ARE Asian which explains why they are sooooo good at it). But when they were pissed, they were no better than we were.
A great moment from the evening occurred when Absy showed up. Either Moose or Sanchu (really, I can't remember who but probably it was Moose) asked something to the effect of "
Hey Absy...I hear your girl friend has sweet fake tits". Kevin just about DIED.
2. Naturally I was drunker than a Lord. Here are some celebratory shots of me with the nearly empty Texas Mickey.
3. We all know that on New Year's you get a kiss from your special someone. Here is Moose and Sanchu making out. I didn't even know that sexy was gone until these two brought it back!
4. And the coupe du force was this 3:00 streak session by Chad and Moose. As they peeled out in the darkness (me following with camera and sanchu following with video), I heard Robin call out "Am I REALLY married to this guy?".
In the end, who won the bout between man and insane bottle of booze? Well, consider that before I went to bed I phoned Jody and left a message on his answering machine where I sang to him "I Saw Red" by Warrant. As Jody would recant the next day, I even hit the high notes.
Thus, I think clearly you can tell that it was us.
Tribute to Mr. Doe
Edit: at the request of Mr. Doe, I have changed names and locations to protect the identity of this modern day superhero. That goes for the comments, where I had to delete one.
One of the reasons that Moose and I started up this Blog is so that we'd have a way to recounting all the fabulous stories that we had as part of being "with the boys". One such event that I managed to stumble across was an article that I wrote for the Lister Lighthouse newspaper after I had finished my final year of school.
The article was written to help perpetuate the story of the greatest man I have ever known, one Mr. Doe. Even after we had left Lister Hall, the Light House continued to have "N+1's" about him even though he was long departed from Canada.
Indeed my sister ran into a 2nd year student over the Christmas holidays that has heard the the phrase "Mr. Doe Got Head"...this a full 5 years after the last of us left Lister Hall! I hope you enjoy re-reading this article as I did.
The Legend of Mr. Doe
Written by Dave Mulyk (1997 – 2001)
There is no floor on Lister quite like 6 Henday. Even though the current floor can’t party even 1/3 as hard as the old boys used to – as evidenced by the so-called Alumni party – they still kick the ass out of every floor is this god-forsaken hellhole called Lister Hall. Of course, one of the greatest of the great 6H Chief is Mr. Doe. But who is Mr. Doe? Is he real? Unless you’re comatose, or live on 11 Mac, you’ve heard of the phrase “Mr. Doe got head”. I am often asked: “How much head did Mr. Doe get during his time in Lister hall”? Well, lets just say that Mr. Doe got as much head as the girls of 8 Mac dish out in any given school year. (And as we all know…that’s a TON of knob gobblin’!!)
But I bet none of you would believe that he is a real person. Indeed he is currently a med student at an undisclosed location. Mr. Doe is a remarkable man. Although it would be impossible to list all of his accomplishments in just one article, here are the highlights, and a couple of low lights of his amazing life.
- Stole a bus stop sign so that a good friend could catch a bus from the lounge.
- Found porno tapes in a toilet in the med-sci library. Took them home, dried them out. Played them in the lounge non-stop thereafter. When moms and dads came to pick up their 1st year daughters at the end of the school year, said porn was playing in the lounge.
- Turned down more sex and more blowjobs then most men likely receive in a lifetime. Although a lot of guys make this claim, as Jesus as my witness I swear this was the truth. Her is the only man I know that was able to ACTUALLY get twin sisters wanted to sleep with him.
- Invented the concept of http://nakedskate.netfirms.com/, (a 6H legendary story in its own right).
- Mr. Doe took genetics in his undergrad. For two genetics classes, he turned in MOVIES about genetic respiratory diseases – the Adventures of Jeb – RATHER THAN writing the term papers. Got a 9 in both classes. (Or, for the young’uns…an A+).
- Diffused the fight between the 6H boys and the dirty Mexicans in the Ship – you know, when the Ship was ACTUALLY a bar.
- Could beat you at NHL 93 for the Sega Genesis with his eyes closed and his arms tied behind his back.
- Invented the Lister Wheel Chair Olympics.
- Could karaoke Bette Midler’s “The Rose” in such a stirring manner that it would bring a tear to the eye of an Arab in the middle of the Sahara desert.
- Helped in the plans to steal the original Skulk Trophy.
- Picked a Sports Select ticket that featured 5 ties. Came one goal away from winning $250 off of a $2 bet. If only the Montreal Canadiens didn’t shit the bed…
- Went to an STD clinic. Received a FALSE POSITIVE for HIV. There would simply be NO WAY he’d be able to contact all of his former sex partners!
- Painted the mural at the bottom of the Henday.
- Got so drunk that he fell out of bed and received 3rd degree rug burns over most of his face. Still received enough head to make your head spin.
- Found a half eaten pizza in an alleyway. Took it home and ate it.
- Had sex with your mom. Made your dad watch.
Why did the girls want to give him head back then? Why do they STILL flock to suck the cock? Because the man is a legend. He has no equal. Just as Ron Jeremy is able to sleep with unbelievably hot women, so too is he able to get everyone (from the fat girl that hides in her room, to the uber hot girlfriend of the guy living on 2K) to deep throat.
Make no mistake about it: Mr. Doe is a real guy. He currently lives in Eternia and is enrolled in med school at Castle Greyskull University. In a greater time, you would have met him. But alas, those days are fading like a distant memory like the name of the girl you picked up at Windsor’s when you were hammered. For every time you hear that some guy got head…just remember that he got it first.
