My goal during the tour was to blog almost everyday when I was on the road. Well, my lazy ass certainly did not follow thru on the this promise. In fact my last blog was October 6 about my lovely experience in the state of Montana. Anyway, after exactly 3 months on the road I've made it back home to Los Angeles and my tiny studio apartment in Venice Beach. I put over 14,000 miles on my Hertz Rental Car and enjoyed traveling across the country and performing stand-up comedy for a wide range of audiences. I've decided to sum up the tour with a list of numerous events that pretty much decribe the best/worst moments of the Fall 2010 "Walk of Shame Tour."
Worst Drive - My initial drive from Venice Beach, California to Cincinnati, Ohio was like a Jewish man's death march during the holocaust, minus the gas chambers, slave labor, starvation, and eventual death. What made the trip unbearable was my decision to drive over 2,000 miles straight without getting a hotel room. I just kept driving and whenever I was tired I would pull over at a rest area of gas station and risk my anal virginity by sleeping for a few hours. Than I would wake up and continue the treacherous drive. Looking back, I have no idea why I refused to get a hotel room? At the conclusion of the journey I smelled like a Mexican who had been searching in underground tunnels for a United States passage. Upon arrival at my parents house I showered upon my mother's request and fell into a long coma. The next week I became sick because of this retarded idea and will never again drive across country with limited sleep, unless I have a hot chick to supply constant amounts of road head.
Worst Show/Audience - Hands down Bones Bar and Grille in Jefferson City, Missouri. Although my show at Crazy Horse Bar and Grille in Bloomington, Indiana was equally a disturbing trainwreck. The reason my show in Jefferson City was such a disaster was because the audience were the stupidest people I've ever met in my life. Since my manager and other buddy are from Jefferson City I did not anticipate this huge debaccle. Words cannot describe the stupidity of the girls in the crowd. In particilar the female named "Carma." She was so annoying and mentally incapable upon learning her name I told her and I quote, "It was bad Karma that your mother did not abort you, because that's how annoying you are!" I also told this audience that "I would rather be stuck in a Chilean mine than have to continue performing jokes for you morons." We do have footage of this show and it should be great footage for anyone wanting to view a video of "World's Worst Comedy Show."
Worst Hook-Up - Again, this is an easy pick and really doesn't count as a hook-up considering nothing happened. Let's just say I went back with a sorority girl from a Big 10 University and about a minute into kissing she told me she didn't feel well and she started to puke all over herself and also the couch. Like any chivalrous gentleman I alerted her housemate, called a cab, and went home to masturbate.
Best Drunken Haze - Tailgting for the Michigan State/Michigan football game in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Pretty much I have no recollection after 11 AM of this Saturday tailgate. I woke up already drunk from the night before around 8 AM and instantly had a Natural Lite in my hand. I decided to exacerbate the problem by purchasing a 4 Loko and going into a lunatic black out mode. Again, I was followed by cameras, so we'll definitely have some video of this day in the near future. I remember bits and pieces of the day like passing out in the middle of the tailgate and being woken with frat kids pouring beer on my face, and also giving a random sorority at University of Michigan an "upper decker" before I left campus. All together it was a fun day from what I remember and am shocked I somehow did not get arrested.
Easiest Pay Day - This is another easy choice considering I was paid $1,000 to not perform. Yes, that is 100% true and I would like to thank one of the fraternities at University of Nebraska for giving me the easiest $1,000 dollars of my life. Essentially the fraternity President who organized the event was so intoxicated and everyone else in the chapter house did not know what the hell was going on. We were supposed to open the night with comedy and be followed by a DJ. Yet, the show was in such dissaray that they opted only for the DJ, hence me getting paid to do absolutely nothing. Now I know what Alex Rodriguez feels like for half an at bat.
Best Drunken Food (That I Can Remember) - Cane's Chicken in Norman, Oklahoma. I would nominate whatever I ate at Michigan State University in East Lansing, but I was in such a state of "black out" I don't remember what I even ate. Anyway, Cane's Chicken is greasy fried chicken with a kick ass sauce. They are very smart because they market to every black person alive and white college kids who either have no money or want some greasy food when they are stoned or drunk. It was a declicious meal and the chicken was toppped with Texas Toast, fries, and some sweet tea. It's a home-run for anyone who wants to possibly shit themselves the next day on a 13 hour drive, because that's what happened to me.
Best Purchase of the Tour - My Davey Crocket Racoon Hat and Buffalo Hat somewhere in Oklahoma. After eating an excellent Bison Burger I ventured across the parking lot into a Native American store and found some awesome products. After giving the Natives small pox I made the great purchases of a racoon and buffalo hat. These will be great drinking hats and will fit in perfectly with the attire of my neighbors from Venice Beach.
Best Bar - The winner must go to Razzle Dazzle Strip Club in Pine Bluffs, Iowa. This truly is such a disgusting place with STD ridden strippers, showing off C-Section scars that it's totally awesome.
Worst Hotel - The winner of this illustrious award would be the Super 8 Motel in Albert Lee, Minnesota. My room looked like it was featured in any Saw Movie and the bed was about as clean as Tai tranny prostitute who's just been double teamed by a couple of South African tourists high on crystal meth. I took out my frustration by pounding off to some quality pornhub.com and not even bothering to clean up the mess.
It was a great tour with many great stories. I just hope that next time I claim to keep a daily blog, I actually stick with it.
- Andy
P.S. I better not have AIDS
Monday, November 29, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
My Trip to Montana: What the F***?
Montana: Part I - Back Roads and Racism
When I started my drive to the great state of Montana I had no clue what to expect. I knew the state was aesthetically beautiful and that was about it. I didn’t realize that my 5 days in Montana would show me some of the weirdest people I’ve ever encountered. On September 22, 2010 I left Omaha, Nebraska for Red Lodge, Montana. It was a 15 hour drive and showed me areas of the country I had never seen such as South Dakota, Wyoming, and finally Montana. On my drive I stopped in Wall Drug, South Dakota and had dinner at a local diner. During my meal I was shown some good old fashioned racism as the 2 construction workers sitting next to the window ridiculed the poor Korean server who could barely speak English. As I watched the 2 men berate the poor Asian man a few thoughts struck my mind: First and foremost, how the hell did an Asian immigrant find his way to Wall Drug, South Dakota? The man could have chosen any major city in this country like Chicago, New York, or Los Angeles, yet he chose to relocate in some white trash town in the middle of South Dakota. That would be like me deciding to move to China and relocating in some farm town, and not moving to like Beijing, Shanghai, or Hong Kong. Anyway, I moved beyond this person’s dumbass decision and was struck by how the guy who looked like Seabass from Dumb and Dumber and his friend found it so amusing that this guy couldn’t understand English. They thought it was the funniest thing ever when the Korean brought them a Bud Lite when they actually ordered a Budweiser. They were hooting and hollering at this kid about the beer and than the dishwasher came from the back and also threw in his 2 cents about the Kim Jong Il looking server. So, I decided to get back on the road for what would soon be the drive from hell.
The worst part about driving to a place like Red Lodge, Montana is that you are forced to take back roads and state highways. There are no major interstates that go to this small town so I was forced to use a one lane state freeway. This would not have been too bad, except it started to rain, the side roads were full of deer and elk, and than it became foggy as hell. Making matters worse, my phone service was completely gone and I was running low on gas with no civilization in near site. I was literally in the middle of nowhere and now had an extreme fear that I was either going to hit a large animal or get hit by a large semi-truck, or even raped in the fetal position. My GPS was also failing me at this time, so Google and my other GPS systems can both eat a dick. Thankfully I found a gas station in Broadus, Montana or as I call it, “Shithole town where I better not get raped at 12 AM filling up my gas,” Anyway, I filled up my gas and after about 200 miles on state highways I finally found my way back to a national interstate on the I-90 and drove to Billings, Montana for the night. After paying $100 for some overpriced piece of shit room I took out my aggression by jerking off all over the hotel room and abruptly crashing to sleep.
Part II: Introduction to Brad the Retard
On Thursday September 23, 2010 I finally arrived at Rock Creek Resort located in Red Lodge, Montana. I can truly say that Red Lodge, Montana is absolutely gorgeous. It’s located in the mountains and is only 60 miles away from Yellow Stone National Park. The green landscape, wooded mountains and flowing creek make it a great place. However, the locals of Red Lodge are some of the weirdest bastards I’ve ever met in my life. My first encounter with locals was at the Rock Creek Resort. When I checked into the resort the asshole sporting the hooded sweat-shirt was one of the biggest pricks I’ve ever met in my life. I refuse to say one thing nice about this douche bag and I hope, no I pray that he gets mauled and eaten to death by a grizzle bear. Anyway, after getting settled in out honeymoon suite with no shower, and only a Jacuzzi bath tub, my friends and I decided to head into town to meet everyone in the wedding for drinks. Our cab driver whom drove us into town was wearing a t-shirt, sweat pants, and sneakers. He had long black hair in a ponytail and he sported a rapist mustache. This guy looked like he was playing a serial killer in a horror film. We were are all convinced he was inbred or just a regular meth user, or maybe even both. He claimed he was a recovering alcoholic, but I’m still convinced he has numerous dead bodies in a freezer in his basement.
So, we arrived at downtown Red Lodge and drank our asses off. Nothing important to note until we left the bar and ventured across the street to the now infamous Snow Creek Saloon. Snow Creek Saloon is full of Red Lodge locals, many of whom look like David Spade’s character in the movie Joe Dirt. When I walked up to the bar to order a drink I couldn’t believe my eyes when I turned to my right and saw a man with full blown down syndrome nursing a Jack Daniels and Coke. I was pretty intoxicated at the time so I wasn’t sure if I was drunk or if I was really watching a mentally handicapped man boozing at the bar. I grabbed my friends and we all laughed and watched in horror as this man continued to slam drink after drink. Never in my life have I ever seen someone with down syndrome drinking at the bar, so I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or call the police. Making things more interesting, the retarded guy, whom I learned later was named Brad, left the bar with 2 other men and drove off into the night. I swear on my life that the guy with down syndrome drove off into the Montana night with 2 non-retarded guys after Brad the Retard had been drinking. Since I was drunk at the time my mind could not fully comprehend the ridiculousness of this event. Yet, little did I know that 2 days later there would be another sighting of Brad the Retard.
Part III: The Wedding, Urine Filled Subway, and Death Highway
The next day everyone was hung-over and we somehow managed to forget we had witnessed a retarded man not only drinking at the bar, but also driving off into the night. We went for a hike up a mountain to help sweat out the beer. This was a horrible idea because I was huffing and puffing since I haven’t done any exercise in the last 5 weeks and also because at any given moment a bear could attack and kill my puny ass. Anyway, when we came home from the walk the creepy housekeeping lady was in our room. This witch of a woman is also a staple weirdo at Rock Creek Resort. She is absolutely off her rocker. She has a very high pitched weird voice and always laughs with a cackle after every sentence. She is just another example of the local weirdoes’ roaming Red Lodge, Montana. We all went to the wedding, which was normal except for the weird priest who said things which make you think, “what the fuck is in the water in Red Lodge, Montana?” The wedding reception was a blast and everyone was wasted because the beer was double the normal alcohol and the resort failed to let anyone know this important fact. My friend who got married had a sibling that had some very free hands around my friends from high school. To my knowledge he groped 3 girls I know from high school. That doesn’t include the cup check he gave me when I arrived at the ceremony or the old woman he cock slapped during a slow dance. Also, my male friends from high school and I got very drunk, but the best part of the night occurred when I decided to piss in my friend’s foot long Tuna Salad sandwich from Subway. For some reason I was mad about his sub still being in our refrigerator so I unrolled the sub in the bathroom, gently took off the top piece of bread, and pissed in his sandwich. Then I placed the bread back on the sub, rolled up the sandwich, and placed it back in the bag and put the sandwich back in the refrigerator. Essentially my goal was to have my friend eat my pissed filled Subway the next day when I went to Yellow Stone National Park. I wish I could have taped this stunt because it’s like something you see on the movie Jack Ass.
The next day I ventured to Yellow Stone National Park with 3 girls I know from high school. Besides the great idea of rolling 3 chicks deep into the Park, I had to leave my fart smelled room. When I awoke the morning after the wedding our hotel room smelled like a mixture of ass and smelly feet. Anytime you have 4 drunken passed out men in one room it’s bound to create a foul stench. I was extremely excited to see the wild life of Yellowstone, but was unprepared for the Bear Tooth Highway aka “Death Highway.” This highway is about 10-15,000 feet high and it’s the curviest thing I’ve ever driven. Not too mention it’s full of cliffs and edges, many of which do not have guard rails. I’m pretty sure Brad the Retard designed this highway because it’s about as safe as raw dogging a hooker in a Brooklyn alley way. I was too scared to look to the right or left because the visual drop off alone could make a grown man cry. After 3 hours of driving a mere 66 miles we finally arrived at Yellow Stone National Park. My goals at Yellow Stone were to see bears fucking, humans getting attacked by animals, or a 4 some with the 3 chicks in my car while bears fucked and Asians were attacked by buffalo. Sadly none of these things happened and the only animals I saw were herds of buffalo. Yet, it was still a great experience that was only heightened when we stopped in a small town near the park and our server was another serial killer. After visiting Montana I’m now convinced that every serial killer comes from Montana. They have so many weird, creepy people in that state. If I lived in the middle of the mountains I would surely resort to killing people and eating their bodies in my basement. Anyway, we made it back safely thru another tour of the Death Highway for our last night in Red Lodge, Montana. Little did I know that it would be an epic night which would mark the return of “Brad the Retard.”
Part IV: Brad the Retard Strikes Again !
Since it was our last night in Red Lodge, Montana we headed back to the mentally unstable capital of the world: Snow Creek Saloon. Unlike the others in my group I was hell bent on destroying my liver with booze, because I couldn’t bear a night sober with the numerous weirdoes surrounding the bar. Our last night in town was the most bizarre night of the trip. The Snow Creek Saloon had a pirate theme, so the workers, band, and some bar patrons were dressed as pirates. Complicating matters was the fact that a bus load of Rocky Mountain College (They probably offers degrees in Addition/Subtraction) students poured into the Snow Creek Saloon for an annual Toga Party. Between the mixture of people in toga outfits, pirate costumes, and serial killer/child molester looking locals, the bar had an interesting to feel to say the least. Also, my friend and I were being stalked by some weirdo chick. She was actually kind of cute, and totally bangable, except for the fact that she also seemed to have a case of the downs. I’m now convinced that everyone from Red lodge, Montana is either slightly retarded, inbred, or certified insane. Anyway, the topic of Brad the Retard was brought up and my friend’s wife claimed she used to work with Brad and also noted that the town bought him a house. Again, What the fuck??????? What town buys a local retarded guy a house? I want to know not only how they raised money to buy him a house, but where and what kind of home they bought this man. She also informed me that I could find Brad down the street singing karaoke. Please, try to get a mental image of a down syndrome man singing karaoke, while he is slamming booze like he’s in a college fraternity. Sadly, we never found Brad in our search to witness this momentous occasion. Yet, my luck changed a few hours later when my friend stormed from the back bar uttering these words, “Ruther, you have to go to other bar because there is another retarded guy drinking at the bar.” Quickly I left the college girls in togas I was speaking with because I had to witness it for myself. So, I left the front bar and slowly walked to the back bar and turned to my right and saw one of the funniest, bizarre, and most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen: Sitting at the back bar in a full cowboy outfit with a black cowboy hat, long white t-shirt with fleece vest, tight jeans, and cowboy boots and drinking a Budweiser was Brad the Retard. It was like an advertisement you could see during an NFL game with the traditional American tough guy drinking his Budweiser, except this tough guy happened to be mentally retarded. I know it’s wrong for numerous reasons but I could not contain my laughter. I laughed hysterically with my buddy for countless minutes. In fact I could not contain myself and the laughter could not stop the rest of the night. The mental image of Brad the Retard sitting chivalrously in his cowboy attire and drinking a Budweiser was too much for me to handle. The other reason it’s so damn funny is the fact that everyone in the bar did not miss a beat and even turn an eye on this unusual spectacle. It was as if it’s perfectly normal to watch a mentally handicapped adult dressed as the Marlboro Man drinking at the local bar.
Throughout the rest of the night my friend and I watched Brad as he stared off into space probably thinking about cartoons and shitting himself. We watched intently as Brad stared at the college girls scantily clothed in togas or when he gazed at the band above him dressed as pirates. As I watched Brad I also took a quick look around the Snow Creek Saloon and I felt like I was on a different planet. I felt like I was trapped on an episode of the Twilight Zone or in a sick Stephen King horror film. We watched Brad the Retard exit the back and only wondered where the hell this poor soul would end his night. Yet, about twenty minutes later after the bar was closed we again met Brad the Retard. My friend and I were talking outside the front of the closed bar with some locals, when Brad the Retard burst thru the front door with both fingers in his ear and muttered these words: “It’s too loud in here (in a retard voice).” He then bolted down the street, probably to wrestle a bear or maybe close down the night by singing Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” on karaoke. Either way, again I could not control my laughter. Brad sat thru the entire loud night of music, people, and bar noise and seem completely unfazed. Yet, when the bar was officially closed and only had the workers cleaning up was when he couldn’t take the noise. I’ve learned not to question a damn thing about Red Lodge, Montana. No reasonable person can comprehend a retarded man drinking beers dressed as a cowboy, or a cab driver who couldn’t understand what an “acre” of land meant, or a hotel resort that did not know about or carry the channel NBC, yet these are all aspects of Red Lodge, Montana. I think anyone who reads this will be forced to experience these things first hand. So, anyone who decides to venture into Red Lodge, Montana I wish you luck and please have a beer with Brad the Retard, and may God have mercy on your soul.
When I started my drive to the great state of Montana I had no clue what to expect. I knew the state was aesthetically beautiful and that was about it. I didn’t realize that my 5 days in Montana would show me some of the weirdest people I’ve ever encountered. On September 22, 2010 I left Omaha, Nebraska for Red Lodge, Montana. It was a 15 hour drive and showed me areas of the country I had never seen such as South Dakota, Wyoming, and finally Montana. On my drive I stopped in Wall Drug, South Dakota and had dinner at a local diner. During my meal I was shown some good old fashioned racism as the 2 construction workers sitting next to the window ridiculed the poor Korean server who could barely speak English. As I watched the 2 men berate the poor Asian man a few thoughts struck my mind: First and foremost, how the hell did an Asian immigrant find his way to Wall Drug, South Dakota? The man could have chosen any major city in this country like Chicago, New York, or Los Angeles, yet he chose to relocate in some white trash town in the middle of South Dakota. That would be like me deciding to move to China and relocating in some farm town, and not moving to like Beijing, Shanghai, or Hong Kong. Anyway, I moved beyond this person’s dumbass decision and was struck by how the guy who looked like Seabass from Dumb and Dumber and his friend found it so amusing that this guy couldn’t understand English. They thought it was the funniest thing ever when the Korean brought them a Bud Lite when they actually ordered a Budweiser. They were hooting and hollering at this kid about the beer and than the dishwasher came from the back and also threw in his 2 cents about the Kim Jong Il looking server. So, I decided to get back on the road for what would soon be the drive from hell.
The worst part about driving to a place like Red Lodge, Montana is that you are forced to take back roads and state highways. There are no major interstates that go to this small town so I was forced to use a one lane state freeway. This would not have been too bad, except it started to rain, the side roads were full of deer and elk, and than it became foggy as hell. Making matters worse, my phone service was completely gone and I was running low on gas with no civilization in near site. I was literally in the middle of nowhere and now had an extreme fear that I was either going to hit a large animal or get hit by a large semi-truck, or even raped in the fetal position. My GPS was also failing me at this time, so Google and my other GPS systems can both eat a dick. Thankfully I found a gas station in Broadus, Montana or as I call it, “Shithole town where I better not get raped at 12 AM filling up my gas,” Anyway, I filled up my gas and after about 200 miles on state highways I finally found my way back to a national interstate on the I-90 and drove to Billings, Montana for the night. After paying $100 for some overpriced piece of shit room I took out my aggression by jerking off all over the hotel room and abruptly crashing to sleep.
Part II: Introduction to Brad the Retard
On Thursday September 23, 2010 I finally arrived at Rock Creek Resort located in Red Lodge, Montana. I can truly say that Red Lodge, Montana is absolutely gorgeous. It’s located in the mountains and is only 60 miles away from Yellow Stone National Park. The green landscape, wooded mountains and flowing creek make it a great place. However, the locals of Red Lodge are some of the weirdest bastards I’ve ever met in my life. My first encounter with locals was at the Rock Creek Resort. When I checked into the resort the asshole sporting the hooded sweat-shirt was one of the biggest pricks I’ve ever met in my life. I refuse to say one thing nice about this douche bag and I hope, no I pray that he gets mauled and eaten to death by a grizzle bear. Anyway, after getting settled in out honeymoon suite with no shower, and only a Jacuzzi bath tub, my friends and I decided to head into town to meet everyone in the wedding for drinks. Our cab driver whom drove us into town was wearing a t-shirt, sweat pants, and sneakers. He had long black hair in a ponytail and he sported a rapist mustache. This guy looked like he was playing a serial killer in a horror film. We were are all convinced he was inbred or just a regular meth user, or maybe even both. He claimed he was a recovering alcoholic, but I’m still convinced he has numerous dead bodies in a freezer in his basement.
So, we arrived at downtown Red Lodge and drank our asses off. Nothing important to note until we left the bar and ventured across the street to the now infamous Snow Creek Saloon. Snow Creek Saloon is full of Red Lodge locals, many of whom look like David Spade’s character in the movie Joe Dirt. When I walked up to the bar to order a drink I couldn’t believe my eyes when I turned to my right and saw a man with full blown down syndrome nursing a Jack Daniels and Coke. I was pretty intoxicated at the time so I wasn’t sure if I was drunk or if I was really watching a mentally handicapped man boozing at the bar. I grabbed my friends and we all laughed and watched in horror as this man continued to slam drink after drink. Never in my life have I ever seen someone with down syndrome drinking at the bar, so I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or call the police. Making things more interesting, the retarded guy, whom I learned later was named Brad, left the bar with 2 other men and drove off into the night. I swear on my life that the guy with down syndrome drove off into the Montana night with 2 non-retarded guys after Brad the Retard had been drinking. Since I was drunk at the time my mind could not fully comprehend the ridiculousness of this event. Yet, little did I know that 2 days later there would be another sighting of Brad the Retard.
Part III: The Wedding, Urine Filled Subway, and Death Highway
The next day everyone was hung-over and we somehow managed to forget we had witnessed a retarded man not only drinking at the bar, but also driving off into the night. We went for a hike up a mountain to help sweat out the beer. This was a horrible idea because I was huffing and puffing since I haven’t done any exercise in the last 5 weeks and also because at any given moment a bear could attack and kill my puny ass. Anyway, when we came home from the walk the creepy housekeeping lady was in our room. This witch of a woman is also a staple weirdo at Rock Creek Resort. She is absolutely off her rocker. She has a very high pitched weird voice and always laughs with a cackle after every sentence. She is just another example of the local weirdoes’ roaming Red Lodge, Montana. We all went to the wedding, which was normal except for the weird priest who said things which make you think, “what the fuck is in the water in Red Lodge, Montana?” The wedding reception was a blast and everyone was wasted because the beer was double the normal alcohol and the resort failed to let anyone know this important fact. My friend who got married had a sibling that had some very free hands around my friends from high school. To my knowledge he groped 3 girls I know from high school. That doesn’t include the cup check he gave me when I arrived at the ceremony or the old woman he cock slapped during a slow dance. Also, my male friends from high school and I got very drunk, but the best part of the night occurred when I decided to piss in my friend’s foot long Tuna Salad sandwich from Subway. For some reason I was mad about his sub still being in our refrigerator so I unrolled the sub in the bathroom, gently took off the top piece of bread, and pissed in his sandwich. Then I placed the bread back on the sub, rolled up the sandwich, and placed it back in the bag and put the sandwich back in the refrigerator. Essentially my goal was to have my friend eat my pissed filled Subway the next day when I went to Yellow Stone National Park. I wish I could have taped this stunt because it’s like something you see on the movie Jack Ass.
The next day I ventured to Yellow Stone National Park with 3 girls I know from high school. Besides the great idea of rolling 3 chicks deep into the Park, I had to leave my fart smelled room. When I awoke the morning after the wedding our hotel room smelled like a mixture of ass and smelly feet. Anytime you have 4 drunken passed out men in one room it’s bound to create a foul stench. I was extremely excited to see the wild life of Yellowstone, but was unprepared for the Bear Tooth Highway aka “Death Highway.” This highway is about 10-15,000 feet high and it’s the curviest thing I’ve ever driven. Not too mention it’s full of cliffs and edges, many of which do not have guard rails. I’m pretty sure Brad the Retard designed this highway because it’s about as safe as raw dogging a hooker in a Brooklyn alley way. I was too scared to look to the right or left because the visual drop off alone could make a grown man cry. After 3 hours of driving a mere 66 miles we finally arrived at Yellow Stone National Park. My goals at Yellow Stone were to see bears fucking, humans getting attacked by animals, or a 4 some with the 3 chicks in my car while bears fucked and Asians were attacked by buffalo. Sadly none of these things happened and the only animals I saw were herds of buffalo. Yet, it was still a great experience that was only heightened when we stopped in a small town near the park and our server was another serial killer. After visiting Montana I’m now convinced that every serial killer comes from Montana. They have so many weird, creepy people in that state. If I lived in the middle of the mountains I would surely resort to killing people and eating their bodies in my basement. Anyway, we made it back safely thru another tour of the Death Highway for our last night in Red Lodge, Montana. Little did I know that it would be an epic night which would mark the return of “Brad the Retard.”
Part IV: Brad the Retard Strikes Again !
Since it was our last night in Red Lodge, Montana we headed back to the mentally unstable capital of the world: Snow Creek Saloon. Unlike the others in my group I was hell bent on destroying my liver with booze, because I couldn’t bear a night sober with the numerous weirdoes surrounding the bar. Our last night in town was the most bizarre night of the trip. The Snow Creek Saloon had a pirate theme, so the workers, band, and some bar patrons were dressed as pirates. Complicating matters was the fact that a bus load of Rocky Mountain College (They probably offers degrees in Addition/Subtraction) students poured into the Snow Creek Saloon for an annual Toga Party. Between the mixture of people in toga outfits, pirate costumes, and serial killer/child molester looking locals, the bar had an interesting to feel to say the least. Also, my friend and I were being stalked by some weirdo chick. She was actually kind of cute, and totally bangable, except for the fact that she also seemed to have a case of the downs. I’m now convinced that everyone from Red lodge, Montana is either slightly retarded, inbred, or certified insane. Anyway, the topic of Brad the Retard was brought up and my friend’s wife claimed she used to work with Brad and also noted that the town bought him a house. Again, What the fuck??????? What town buys a local retarded guy a house? I want to know not only how they raised money to buy him a house, but where and what kind of home they bought this man. She also informed me that I could find Brad down the street singing karaoke. Please, try to get a mental image of a down syndrome man singing karaoke, while he is slamming booze like he’s in a college fraternity. Sadly, we never found Brad in our search to witness this momentous occasion. Yet, my luck changed a few hours later when my friend stormed from the back bar uttering these words, “Ruther, you have to go to other bar because there is another retarded guy drinking at the bar.” Quickly I left the college girls in togas I was speaking with because I had to witness it for myself. So, I left the front bar and slowly walked to the back bar and turned to my right and saw one of the funniest, bizarre, and most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen: Sitting at the back bar in a full cowboy outfit with a black cowboy hat, long white t-shirt with fleece vest, tight jeans, and cowboy boots and drinking a Budweiser was Brad the Retard. It was like an advertisement you could see during an NFL game with the traditional American tough guy drinking his Budweiser, except this tough guy happened to be mentally retarded. I know it’s wrong for numerous reasons but I could not contain my laughter. I laughed hysterically with my buddy for countless minutes. In fact I could not contain myself and the laughter could not stop the rest of the night. The mental image of Brad the Retard sitting chivalrously in his cowboy attire and drinking a Budweiser was too much for me to handle. The other reason it’s so damn funny is the fact that everyone in the bar did not miss a beat and even turn an eye on this unusual spectacle. It was as if it’s perfectly normal to watch a mentally handicapped adult dressed as the Marlboro Man drinking at the local bar.
Throughout the rest of the night my friend and I watched Brad as he stared off into space probably thinking about cartoons and shitting himself. We watched intently as Brad stared at the college girls scantily clothed in togas or when he gazed at the band above him dressed as pirates. As I watched Brad I also took a quick look around the Snow Creek Saloon and I felt like I was on a different planet. I felt like I was trapped on an episode of the Twilight Zone or in a sick Stephen King horror film. We watched Brad the Retard exit the back and only wondered where the hell this poor soul would end his night. Yet, about twenty minutes later after the bar was closed we again met Brad the Retard. My friend and I were talking outside the front of the closed bar with some locals, when Brad the Retard burst thru the front door with both fingers in his ear and muttered these words: “It’s too loud in here (in a retard voice).” He then bolted down the street, probably to wrestle a bear or maybe close down the night by singing Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” on karaoke. Either way, again I could not control my laughter. Brad sat thru the entire loud night of music, people, and bar noise and seem completely unfazed. Yet, when the bar was officially closed and only had the workers cleaning up was when he couldn’t take the noise. I’ve learned not to question a damn thing about Red Lodge, Montana. No reasonable person can comprehend a retarded man drinking beers dressed as a cowboy, or a cab driver who couldn’t understand what an “acre” of land meant, or a hotel resort that did not know about or carry the channel NBC, yet these are all aspects of Red Lodge, Montana. I think anyone who reads this will be forced to experience these things first hand. So, anyone who decides to venture into Red Lodge, Montana I wish you luck and please have a beer with Brad the Retard, and may God have mercy on your soul.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
The State of Nebraska, "Razzle Dazzle" Strip Club, & My Visit to Arby’s
I’ve been in the state of Nebraska for less than 24 hours and quite honestly I’m speechless. And when I say Nebraska I’m also including Council Bluffs, Iowa because they are the same people with just an added flare of white trash. I arrived last night in Council Bluffs to stay with a good friend whom I used to teach with in Las Vegas. When I arrived at his house the white trash family across the street was gathered on their front porch of their barn looking home. Black people get a bad rap for hanging out on the porch, but white trash people do the exact same thing. Anyway, my buddy was claiming the one chick was bangable, than again this guy will fuck anything with a pulse and opposable thumbs. So, I put down my things and we headed into downtown Omaha. As usual we were trying to keep the night tame, but I knew that wouldn’t happen because we were meeting up with some of my good college friends. After dinner and some booze we decided to venture into the night and pathetically bar hopped all over Omaha. Seeing that the night didn’t have much to offer we all agreed to go back to Council Bluffs to the famed “Razzle Dazzle” strip club.
Where the fuck to I begin? There is nothing razzle or dazzle about this place. The first sign of it possibly being the worst strip club in the universe (and I’ve been to lots of shitty strip clubs) was the no cover charge. Every strip club in the history of mankind will have a cover charge, but the Razzle Dazzle is such a cold sore and the girls are so ridiculously ugly they don’t even attempt to take money at the door. So, we go inside and this was the smallest strip club I’ve ever seen . There is one stage in the middle and maybe 30-35 seats in the entire place. So, we grab seats at the bar and I instantly noticed that it was full of nothing but white people. The ironic part was the fact that numerous strippers were black and the old white men greatly enjoyed shoving their faces in their STD ridden crotches. I find it ironic because these are the same men that probably yell “nigger” every time they are cut off by a black driver. Anyway, my drunk friend quickly befriended one of the strippers at the bar. To his credit, she was definitely the best looking girl at the club, but that’s like saying you’re fastest retard at the Special Olympics. She introduced herself to all of us as “Shadow.” So I responded, “Oh, like the shadow boxes you made in grade school?” She had no clue what the hell I was talking about and than she barfed herpes on my face. Actually, my friend was intent on banging her and “not paying for it” as he claimed to me.
While he was putting the moves on Shadow I watched in horror at the beer gutted dancers, all of whom had tramp stamps. The fact that these girls were paid strippers would be like me getting paid to play in the NFL. Not only did they not have any right to be getting naked and shaking their fat asses in public, but they should be locked in a cage in someone’s basement like that dude from Pulp Fiction. The most disturbing dancer had a large beer belly with an obvious C-section scar on her stomach. As I sipped my Jim Beam and coke I could only watch in horror as countless men placed bills in her thong and let her thrust her roast beef snatch in their faces. Shortly after Shadow was on stage and she was definitely the hit sensation of the club. My friend became jealous, which was pretty funny and I could only watch and laugh because he was getting jealous over some slutty stripper he just met. After the dance and pelvic thrusts Shadow rejoined my friend and they exchanged numbers on a napkin, taking it back to 1988 when cell phones didn’t exist. He is intent on banging Shadow, which also means he must be intent on contracting the Chlamydia, because they are one in the same.
Lunch at Arby’s Today
Today I ventured into the local Council Bluffs Arby’s for lunch. The placed literally felt like a nursing home. It was nothing but old people everywhere. When I say old I’m talking witnessed the Civil War old. The old man in front of me was using a gift card to pay for his extra value meal. I want to know who gave him an Arby’s gift card for his birthday? That could quite possibly be the worst gift anyone could receive minus the $10 dollar gift card my Aunt gave me one year to Staples (true story). The funniest part was that the card wouldn’t process, so he was arguing with the cashier about the stupid thing. She in turn had to get the manager who still couldn’t get the card to work. He was pissed and refused to use his own money and literally threatened to go McDonald’s and give them his money. Meanwhile the morbidly obese people behind me in line were drooling at the mouth and ready to go postal because they had to wait five extra minutes before they could shove their sausage link fingers into some Arby’s Beef N’ Cheddars. Because of this disaster I decided to eat at the restaurant and watch more fat people. Also, the girl working the cash register was fuckable, even though she worked as an Arby’s cash register in Council Bluffs, Iowa. I would be willing to overlook her job title after a few beers and Jaeger Bombs. Who am I kidding? I would probably bang her in the bathroom, while some geriatric was shitting himself in the nearby bathroom stall. Anyway, while I sat and ate the table across from me was literally on a date. The chick worked at Arby’s and had her uniform on, so she was either on break or finished with her shift. The guy was some redneck and they literally seemed like they were on a first date. I eaves dropped and overheard their length discussion about alcohol shot preference. Nothing says first date like some Arby’s curly fries and a discussion about Jaeger bombs. So, that’s my first 12 hours in Omaha/Council Bluffs. I look forward to downtown Omaha tonight and tomorrow’s show at University of Nebraska. You know what they say, “What happens in Omaha probably involves gravy, corn, and a fat chick.”
Where the fuck to I begin? There is nothing razzle or dazzle about this place. The first sign of it possibly being the worst strip club in the universe (and I’ve been to lots of shitty strip clubs) was the no cover charge. Every strip club in the history of mankind will have a cover charge, but the Razzle Dazzle is such a cold sore and the girls are so ridiculously ugly they don’t even attempt to take money at the door. So, we go inside and this was the smallest strip club I’ve ever seen . There is one stage in the middle and maybe 30-35 seats in the entire place. So, we grab seats at the bar and I instantly noticed that it was full of nothing but white people. The ironic part was the fact that numerous strippers were black and the old white men greatly enjoyed shoving their faces in their STD ridden crotches. I find it ironic because these are the same men that probably yell “nigger” every time they are cut off by a black driver. Anyway, my drunk friend quickly befriended one of the strippers at the bar. To his credit, she was definitely the best looking girl at the club, but that’s like saying you’re fastest retard at the Special Olympics. She introduced herself to all of us as “Shadow.” So I responded, “Oh, like the shadow boxes you made in grade school?” She had no clue what the hell I was talking about and than she barfed herpes on my face. Actually, my friend was intent on banging her and “not paying for it” as he claimed to me.
While he was putting the moves on Shadow I watched in horror at the beer gutted dancers, all of whom had tramp stamps. The fact that these girls were paid strippers would be like me getting paid to play in the NFL. Not only did they not have any right to be getting naked and shaking their fat asses in public, but they should be locked in a cage in someone’s basement like that dude from Pulp Fiction. The most disturbing dancer had a large beer belly with an obvious C-section scar on her stomach. As I sipped my Jim Beam and coke I could only watch in horror as countless men placed bills in her thong and let her thrust her roast beef snatch in their faces. Shortly after Shadow was on stage and she was definitely the hit sensation of the club. My friend became jealous, which was pretty funny and I could only watch and laugh because he was getting jealous over some slutty stripper he just met. After the dance and pelvic thrusts Shadow rejoined my friend and they exchanged numbers on a napkin, taking it back to 1988 when cell phones didn’t exist. He is intent on banging Shadow, which also means he must be intent on contracting the Chlamydia, because they are one in the same.
Lunch at Arby’s Today
Today I ventured into the local Council Bluffs Arby’s for lunch. The placed literally felt like a nursing home. It was nothing but old people everywhere. When I say old I’m talking witnessed the Civil War old. The old man in front of me was using a gift card to pay for his extra value meal. I want to know who gave him an Arby’s gift card for his birthday? That could quite possibly be the worst gift anyone could receive minus the $10 dollar gift card my Aunt gave me one year to Staples (true story). The funniest part was that the card wouldn’t process, so he was arguing with the cashier about the stupid thing. She in turn had to get the manager who still couldn’t get the card to work. He was pissed and refused to use his own money and literally threatened to go McDonald’s and give them his money. Meanwhile the morbidly obese people behind me in line were drooling at the mouth and ready to go postal because they had to wait five extra minutes before they could shove their sausage link fingers into some Arby’s Beef N’ Cheddars. Because of this disaster I decided to eat at the restaurant and watch more fat people. Also, the girl working the cash register was fuckable, even though she worked as an Arby’s cash register in Council Bluffs, Iowa. I would be willing to overlook her job title after a few beers and Jaeger Bombs. Who am I kidding? I would probably bang her in the bathroom, while some geriatric was shitting himself in the nearby bathroom stall. Anyway, while I sat and ate the table across from me was literally on a date. The chick worked at Arby’s and had her uniform on, so she was either on break or finished with her shift. The guy was some redneck and they literally seemed like they were on a first date. I eaves dropped and overheard their length discussion about alcohol shot preference. Nothing says first date like some Arby’s curly fries and a discussion about Jaeger bombs. So, that’s my first 12 hours in Omaha/Council Bluffs. I look forward to downtown Omaha tonight and tomorrow’s show at University of Nebraska. You know what they say, “What happens in Omaha probably involves gravy, corn, and a fat chick.”
Monday, September 13, 2010
Sigma Nu @ Kansas University, 5 day Bender & NFL Gambling
I'm finally sober enough to type a new blog. The previous 5 days have been a drunken disaster of epic proportions. Starting with our show on Wednesday, September 8 thru yesterday's NFL games, I've been a tear of partying and placing my liver thru a distugsting obstacle race of various types of liquor. Anyway, I first want to thank the men of Sigma Nu @ Kansas University for a great time of fun and debauchery. I also want to thank the Delta Gamma ladies for being hot and making me feel like a creepy old man. I've never felt old in my life untill Friday's show. Many of the Delta Gamma ladies were about 2 weeks into their Freshman year of college. In other words they are only about 5 months removed from high school graduation. 10 years isn't that big of an age difference, but when you're 18 it makes me feel like a man on "To Catch" a Predator." Numerous girls called me old and commented that I was "hot for an old man." It's amazing that they think 28 is old. I just couldn't allow myself to bang one of these girls. Sure they were hot, but 18 is just a kid. Not to mention, I wasn't drunk enough, if I had about 5 more beers I would have no moral conscience.
So, I went to the bar with the sorority girls and my craigslist hired promo model who got ridiculously drunk. She was so drunk she puked at the frat house and then told us the following:
1) I have IUD birth control so you can totally cum all up inside me and I can't get pregnant.
2) I'm recovering from a recent bout of the clap (chlamydia)
3) I've had multiple 3 somes and enjoy eating pussy
What can I say, but I only hire the classiest girls for my shows. Anway, we all listened in amazement as she told us vivid stories of birth control, 3 somes, and contracting the clap. Telling a guy " you can cum up inside me" and follwing it with a story about contracting an STD is not cool. You just get a man all excited for some unprotecting sex and than crush his hopes with thoughts of burning urine. Anyway, I awoke early Saturday morning and headed back to St. Louis to meet back up with my best friend and college fraternity friend. Our supposed low key night turned into a 7 hour drinking affair capped by an adverted DUI. Somehow my friend got out of a DUI by claiming he was just driving his drunk from California home (i.e. my drunk ass). It worked and yesterday I awoke and continued my drunken rage while wathcing the first week of NFL games. The only thing I love more than the NFL is gambling on the NFL. It has literally changed my life and turned me into a de-generate. The highs/lows that come with gambling on the NFL is a sick roller coaster ride. Toss in alcohol and you have a long Sunday of partying and yelling at the television. Anyway, I'm finally coherent today and it feels good to not wake up with hang over. I'll savor these few days because this weekend will be another shit show.
So, I went to the bar with the sorority girls and my craigslist hired promo model who got ridiculously drunk. She was so drunk she puked at the frat house and then told us the following:
1) I have IUD birth control so you can totally cum all up inside me and I can't get pregnant.
2) I'm recovering from a recent bout of the clap (chlamydia)
3) I've had multiple 3 somes and enjoy eating pussy
What can I say, but I only hire the classiest girls for my shows. Anway, we all listened in amazement as she told us vivid stories of birth control, 3 somes, and contracting the clap. Telling a guy " you can cum up inside me" and follwing it with a story about contracting an STD is not cool. You just get a man all excited for some unprotecting sex and than crush his hopes with thoughts of burning urine. Anyway, I awoke early Saturday morning and headed back to St. Louis to meet back up with my best friend and college fraternity friend. Our supposed low key night turned into a 7 hour drinking affair capped by an adverted DUI. Somehow my friend got out of a DUI by claiming he was just driving his drunk from California home (i.e. my drunk ass). It worked and yesterday I awoke and continued my drunken rage while wathcing the first week of NFL games. The only thing I love more than the NFL is gambling on the NFL. It has literally changed my life and turned me into a de-generate. The highs/lows that come with gambling on the NFL is a sick roller coaster ride. Toss in alcohol and you have a long Sunday of partying and yelling at the television. Anyway, I'm finally coherent today and it feels good to not wake up with hang over. I'll savor these few days because this weekend will be another shit show.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Theta Chi @ Ball State and St.Louis
So, I've been partying hard for the past 30 hours and I'm trying to remember shit, but I'm drawing a blank. First and foremost I want to thank the men of Theta Chi of Ball State University for a great night. These guys bought me so many shots I can't even remember. So, we performed the show and went to Dill Street Bar and it was lights out! The last thing I remember was being on the dance floor and pissing off chicks because my dance moves are unstoppable. I awake in my lovely Days Inn and it looked like Hurricane Katrina, minus all the dead black people.
So tonight I made my way back to St.Louis and it was another glorious night. My friends and I met some Washington University Law Student Girls who affirmed all my feelings about females. As usual I broke the ice with a roofies joke, which was not well received. But as usual I found my place with what I pereceived was a young Jewish girl, since Jews love me and any potential to make money. (naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah) Anyway, these girls were a waste of time so I continued to slam shots with friends. So, here is the moral of the story. I'm drunk and buzzing off tobacco from a dip. Yes it makes no sense, but either do condoms or law school chicks, unless they yell "objection" when you stick it in their ass. Anyway, the point is I'm rocking Sigma Nu tomorrow and will totally bang a sorority whore. I rule and my farts smell like an extinct dinosaur!
Word - Ruther
So tonight I made my way back to St.Louis and it was another glorious night. My friends and I met some Washington University Law Student Girls who affirmed all my feelings about females. As usual I broke the ice with a roofies joke, which was not well received. But as usual I found my place with what I pereceived was a young Jewish girl, since Jews love me and any potential to make money. (naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah) Anyway, these girls were a waste of time so I continued to slam shots with friends. So, here is the moral of the story. I'm drunk and buzzing off tobacco from a dip. Yes it makes no sense, but either do condoms or law school chicks, unless they yell "objection" when you stick it in their ass. Anyway, the point is I'm rocking Sigma Nu tomorrow and will totally bang a sorority whore. I rule and my farts smell like an extinct dinosaur!
Word - Ruther
Friday, September 3, 2010
First Week and First Show of "Walk of Shame Tour"
I woke up on Tuesday feeling like dog shit. I had a sore throat, bad cough, congested nasal cavity, no energy, and a touch of AIDS. Only I would get sick 2 days before our first show. I’m sure there are numerous reasons why I quickly became so ill: A 45 hour car ride across the country with minimal sleep, followed by an all-night party at the Corn Roast. Or maybe the hooker I bought at exit 162 in Amarillo, Texas was lying when she claimed she gets tested religiously for diseases. Either way I was sick all week, but of course I had to gather my inner Michael Jordan, like when he played against Portland in the 1992 Finals and had a career first half with a 103 degree fever. No, I’m not comparing myself to Michael Jordan, because I will leave a much greater mark on this earth than Jordan. Anyway, I mustered my strength for last night’s show for the men of Delta Sigma Phi @ Purdue University.
Myself, Chicago comedians Ryan Budds and Anthony Sarfino performed for a very dry Rush event at Purdue University. Like most Rush events the audience was 90% dudes. And like most Rush events there was absolutely no booze. I don’t mind performing sober shows, because most shows are followed by after parties. However my fellow Delta Sigma Phi brothers at Purdue are currently on social probation. The reason they are on probation is absolutely hilarious. Apparently last semester one of their former fraternity brothers was blacked out drunk and went down on a girl who was passed out. Making matters worse was the fact that another one of their fraternity brothers took a picture of this utterly disturbing scenario and then sent out the pic to the entire fraternity. Of course the pic was leaked, hence the social probation. It baffles my mind that anyone would enjoy eating some passed out Vag, than again I would blow a man for 10 White Castle burgers when I’m drunk, so who am I to judge? What was even more disturbing was the fact that the guy who took the pic of this drunken debacle had his little brothers rushing the same fraternity. He was a Rushee in the audience and wore a creepy shirt about LSD and sex, so clearly sexual perversion runs in the family.
Anyway, that was the main highlight of the show. There was no after party or any ridiculous stories from the first show. However I’m quite sure the Travelodge where I stayed was run by an Indian serial killer. The place was creepy as hell and it felt like a ghost town, which was really messing with my mind when I attempting a post-show whack off session in the hotel room. Not to mention I probably now have bed bugs, lice and a curry smell on all my clothes. Either way I made it home today and will be back on the road next week with shows @ Ball State and Kansas University. I’m sure the retarded drunken stories will begin next week and I just hope that I don’t decide to go muff diving on someone who can’t breathe like my Delta Sig friends at Purdue.
Myself, Chicago comedians Ryan Budds and Anthony Sarfino performed for a very dry Rush event at Purdue University. Like most Rush events the audience was 90% dudes. And like most Rush events there was absolutely no booze. I don’t mind performing sober shows, because most shows are followed by after parties. However my fellow Delta Sigma Phi brothers at Purdue are currently on social probation. The reason they are on probation is absolutely hilarious. Apparently last semester one of their former fraternity brothers was blacked out drunk and went down on a girl who was passed out. Making matters worse was the fact that another one of their fraternity brothers took a picture of this utterly disturbing scenario and then sent out the pic to the entire fraternity. Of course the pic was leaked, hence the social probation. It baffles my mind that anyone would enjoy eating some passed out Vag, than again I would blow a man for 10 White Castle burgers when I’m drunk, so who am I to judge? What was even more disturbing was the fact that the guy who took the pic of this drunken debacle had his little brothers rushing the same fraternity. He was a Rushee in the audience and wore a creepy shirt about LSD and sex, so clearly sexual perversion runs in the family.
Anyway, that was the main highlight of the show. There was no after party or any ridiculous stories from the first show. However I’m quite sure the Travelodge where I stayed was run by an Indian serial killer. The place was creepy as hell and it felt like a ghost town, which was really messing with my mind when I attempting a post-show whack off session in the hotel room. Not to mention I probably now have bed bugs, lice and a curry smell on all my clothes. Either way I made it home today and will be back on the road next week with shows @ Ball State and Kansas University. I’m sure the retarded drunken stories will begin next week and I just hope that I don’t decide to go muff diving on someone who can’t breathe like my Delta Sig friends at Purdue.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Day 1 - Driving Across the Country & Learning About Indians
So,I've been driving across this great country for the past 24 hours and have already put 1,300 miles on the rental car. Sometimes it feels like a different country when I go on tours. Each state has it's own unique people and I love meeting people from all walks of life, except gays (kidding). Anway, today I've driven thru California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, and Oklahoma. Here are some of my first obervations: The number of fat, ugly, and stupid people sporting trashy tattoos has gotten completely out of control. Also, Indians love selling jewelry and blankets. We all know they love the booze and gambling, but no one ever mentions the countless trade stores that litter Arizona/New Mexico/Oklahoma. I also found it ironic that in the state of Arizona there is a sacred Indian burial ground and literally across the highway is a power plant spewing all sorts of toxins into mother earth. It's bad enough we killed every Indian thru war, and small pox, but some asshole had to slap the natives in the face one last time. On a positive note I did buy 3 small Indian children for a foot long chicken breast Subway sandwhich. This was a great steal even in this economy and I've already put these fuckers to work with hand made Original Frat Boys of Comedy shalls.
Also, I've been eating like the biggest fat ass and am clearly trying to give myself a heart attack on tour. Below is a list of things I've eaten in the last 24 hours:
1) Jack in the Box - 2 Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers & 3 Chicken Sandwhiches
2) Chesters Chicken (Owner must be a child molestor) - 6 Fried Chicken Fingers, 3 Large Potato Wedges and a Biscuit
3) IHOP - Large Steak Omlette and 3 Pancakes
So, I'm sitting at IHOP debating about finishing my meal and also thanking myself for bringing wet wipes because my dumps are going to smell awful. On that note I gotta get back on the road and get home to Cincy so I can greet my parents with some smelly farts.
Peace Bitches - Ruther
Also, I've been eating like the biggest fat ass and am clearly trying to give myself a heart attack on tour. Below is a list of things I've eaten in the last 24 hours:
1) Jack in the Box - 2 Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers & 3 Chicken Sandwhiches
2) Chesters Chicken (Owner must be a child molestor) - 6 Fried Chicken Fingers, 3 Large Potato Wedges and a Biscuit
3) IHOP - Large Steak Omlette and 3 Pancakes
So, I'm sitting at IHOP debating about finishing my meal and also thanking myself for bringing wet wipes because my dumps are going to smell awful. On that note I gotta get back on the road and get home to Cincy so I can greet my parents with some smelly farts.
Peace Bitches - Ruther
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