Phishr wrote: http://www.playlist.com/playlist/18364439819

4:18pm - Stink - “whats that”

4:20pm - Phishr - ”kc and jojo”

4:20pm - Stink - “im not gonna listen….dont like that kinda music”

4:21pm - Phishr - “go figure… uncultured son of a b”

4:23pm - Stink - “not uncultured just dont like r &b music”

4:24pm - Phishr - “its what you pump biscuits to!”

4:25pm - Stink - “i beat guts to anything. it doesnt have to be a love song….im alwas dtf if a girl is willing”

4:27pm - Stink - “well getting off here now”

4:29pm - Matt - “im still laughing”

If anyone remembered the last old party house I lived at, you know the condition of the house when we moved out so you can go ahead and skip ahead. For those who don’t, let me be the one to describe its condition.  When we moved into this house commonly known as just “Normal & Ash” named by its location the house was already a “shit-hole”.

But those “shit-holes” bring the best parties based on ANYTHING can happen to the house and it never really mattered; for it just made for another story.  This house was a corner lot house and it was a good size house for college kids. There were 3 bedrooms in the front of the house and one HUGE bedroom in the back of the house that appeared to be added on after the home was developed. I actually remember the day the lease was signed the landlord basically summed up all questions with “whatever you guys want to do… do it”. The house was naturally drafty, hardwood floors, and alone in it, was probably the scariest thing in the world. Ghost stories aside, out of the original 4 of us that moved in I was the last one to go. In my time there I had 12 roommates.  The front door to the house never closed meaning people were coming and going all of the time AND the front door seriously didn’t close (the door remained broken the entire time up until a week before I moved out)…  It was like the tenants paid rent on a house that all of Tahlequah occupied.

This house was known for visitors signing their names on the walls and ceilings.  When I was leaving the house, every wall in that WHOLE house was covered with marker. Easily thousands of signatures.  Anyways….

The day that I was moving out, my tasks were to replace a headlight in my car, clean the house, and throw away all of the remaining junk and clutter inside and outside. While outside working on my car I was approached by an old man who had asked if he could pick up all of the beer cans from around the house (to make the recycling change). This was not out of the ordinary for this town; at all. I gave the old guy permission and told him if he found anything of value around the house that he could keep it, meaning if he found unopened beers he could dust them off and drink them. The only other stipulation was that he had to pick up the remainder of the trash around the house and bag it. This oldie worked hard and within an hour he had my WHOLE yard cleaned up and bagged. This is where a normal person’s day would have ended…

But I am not a “normal” person. I am THE phishr. Let us begin the strangeness.

The gentleman asked if I had any booze in the house to drink. I had a half pint of cheap scotch lying around and so I went indoors and retrieved the bottle as he followed me.  While inside, he noted the almost vacant house and offered to clean out the cans for a 24 ounce beer. “Are you serious” I exclaimed, “Hell mister I’ll pick you up a six pack and let you keep anything you want in here if you’ll clean this house out!” he agreed, and this is how my day with “Boxcar Bill” began.

“Boxcar Bill” was the name I gave him as he thought it was clever. I sat around and drank and watched college football while Boxcar picked up trash from all over the floor. Every now and then he would come across a half smoked cigarette or a half empty beer and finish them off. This was disgusting but I enjoyed it thoroughly.  As Boxcar cleaned and spoke of days when he “used to have it all” and when “times weren’t so tough” I just listened and watched football.  Boxcar was a hard worker. I ignored half of the stuff he would tell me because well… he was who he was. As the day progressed I thought up an idea that blew all of my past ideas away.  I’m going to get his guy absolutely annihilated and see where the day goes.  As Boxcar cleaned, I ran to the store (yes I left a homeless drunkman alone in my house. It’s Tahlequah… The epicenter of trash) and picked up 4 more 99 cent tall boys, cigars, and even had the heart to make a liquor store run for more hooch for the old guy.

Upon my return home, Boxcar was cleaning behind the last couch and whistling.  It was picture perfect.  He came across this cow hat that obviously was a leftover from Halloween. Boxcar donned the stupid hat and began grunting. I grabbed my camera and told him I was going to be famous when I post these pictures on the Internet…

“IN-TEERRR-NEETTT?” Boxcar said. Holy batmobiles… This guy is oblivious to the Internet. This is amazing.  As I played paparazzi to this whack-job, he cleaned and danced around. As the day continued with Boxcar talking, stumbling, and collecting pennies he had found I noticed a change.  Boxcar Bill was not Boxcar bill anymore. His tone was getting aggressive. He told me of a story from when he lived in St. Louis and he killed 3 men with a timing belt.  “holy jeez this guy IS a whack-job”. He claims it was in self defense and only did a short amount of time for his crime. While he was in jail however he threw a man over a 5 story balcony. “Nobody fucks with me” he yelled in my face. I began getting extremely scared. this guy just told me about killing 4 men total because they were giving him a hard time. Here I am, on a chilly Saturday, exploiting a killer to clean my house for booze and crack jokes at him all day. I tried to calm him down a little. “Hey Bill, when you’re finished with that broom you can keep the handle so you can tie your luggage hanky to it while you walk down the railroad tracks.

I laughed

He glared.

I whimpered.

 I told Boxcar that he left his beer on the front porch (even though it was setting in front of him), As he walked outside I quickly slammed the door shut and locked it. He must have peaked through all of the windows while I stay hidden inside. As time passed I peered out the window to see him walking away in the evening.

Later that night I had a little get together for a friend to commemorate his graduation. upon their arrival with a keg he let it be known that he ran into the weirdo that lived in the shed house behind his house and invited the old guy to come over tonight for some beers…

You’re absolutely kidding me… No way…

Seems shallow? Yes. Meant to be shallow? No.  But is it true? I’ll let you decide.

Ever notice that the majority of skinny attractive girls have terrible, rotten, empty personalities. They cannot make conversation so they talk about Mtv, Victoria Secret sales, and their next tanning adventure. Behind those huge designer sunglasses lies emptiness. An emptiness that drowns anything into a blackhole of nothingness. Cosmopolitan, Tequila Rose shots, and Coach purses.

I’m in love with it. ALL of it. However, as time has passed and a certain level of maturity and self respect have made their foundation to my future, I need more. Sure they’re fun to play with. Just like the video games at Best Buy. You can sit there all day playing one, but you dare take it home.

 Now hold that thought. That was the easy part.

 Now lets discuss the other side of this theory.  The not so skinny girls.  Don’t stop reading here, because this is where the pieces fall together. Admit it. Now I say not so skinny girls because I’d probably get a ton of responses in regards to “not being p.c.” or “judgemental”. Well when I use the term “fat”, let it be known I mean, “not skinny”. You can be fat and beautiful. Easily. Just as easily as you can be skinny and whorishly disgusting. So enough beating around the buffet, here it goes…

Fat girls have the greatest personalities on this earth. I link this to the social food chain. They are not to the same advantage as a skinny girl, so they must develop a means of survival; the opportunity to turn the tables.  Fat girls have the ability to hone in on your personality, determine your interests through reading your expressions, and cater to this personality.  This can be used for good and evil.  It could be an argument in it’s own that skinny girls unconsciencely bring fat girls around because they are the life of the party. They have nothing to talk about so they bring the missing piece to make up for it.

I just feel like I covered every A) island at every golden corral or b) every whore sale at the mall.

I now plan on making a Venn Diagram

They are soon standing to my side at the cabinets by my desk explaining what each person does in the company. This is pretty typical as it seems I have met several new faces recently but it’s still interesting to watch the tour as it makes for a small break away from the screens. The individual is explaining to the new hire what the person next to me does within their group when the new hire, interupts with the greatest (and by greatest I mean, probably not the best time to make such an observation) A.D.D. moment in years.

Employee, “And if you look over this way, this is our…”

New Hire, “Oh this is an echo room! Echhooooooooo!”.

This was not a child. This was not a teenager. This was a grown ass adult.  Dressed professional.  You really just interupted your future supervisor on your company orientation to announce that not only do you feel that you are in an echo room, but you test the boundaries of said room with a loud long outburst to see if your own voice echos.

 And on top of it all, you selected the word “echo” as the test word.

The employee just gave a look to the new hire and lead them out of the room.

Fail.

Upon arrival we started out slamming beers and introducing me to his place. We started the evening out with beers before we headed to the bars. The night was turning out quite uneventful. Every bar we went to was dead. Even though it was a Friday night, I expected a little more. I had an old roommate from Tahlequah that was living in Stillwater now so with nothing else exciting happening, I decided to call him. 

Now Gerbil was newly married and I hadn’t seen them since they lived in Tahlequah, so this was going to almost be like a reunion. When we arrived it was Gerbil, his wife, and 2 girls that they worked with, both of which were attractive. Stink and I were all grins. The night was calm with us playing drinking games, exchanging stories and drinking heavier. I stepped outside with one of the girls “cowgirl” where we started kissing a little. One thing lead to another and I was headed back to the 2 girls house. As we arrived back at their house when problem number one surfaced. These two girls explained how they just got this house, there was not too much furniture on the inside; if it were possible to get inside…

Cowgirl, “Oh damn, we’re locked out.. Is there anyway you can get in?”

The home had bay windows in the front and windows wrapping all the way around surrounded by a small rock garden. I went walking window to window looking for a window that was unlocked. I checked each one moving closer to the back yard. Almost to the backyard “Cowgirl” yelled at me.

“Come up here, all the windows are locked”.

“What do you want me to do then?”

She looked at me in all seriousness and firmly said, “break in”.

I’m not a criminal, I don’t know how to card a door, pick a lock or pull a garage door off a track. She said 2 words and those words allowed me to use any resources available to gain access to the property.

I picked up the biggest rock and threw it as hard as I could through a baywindow. One of those moments where you have the opportunity to stop, reevaluate the situation and take the higher rode that will lead to the best decision. I dropped it in fourth, popped the clutch and trenched the situation. And just when things couldn’t get worse…

I broke the rest of the glass around the window to be a gentlemen so Cowgirl wouldn’t cut herself climbing in. I pushed the broken glass to the corner and we proceeded to the back room. Now remember that there was nothing in the house so we used a mexican poncho on the wall as a blanket. After this moment things got pretty blurry but what happened the other morning will never leave my memory.

I’m awaken bright and early to Cowgirl.

“Quick! Hide! My roommates mom is here!”

I’m fuzzy headed still trying to gather where I’m at, where to hide, and where all of my clothes were.

I get up and hop in the bathroom quickly. As I sit naked on the corner of the tub, I decide to use the restroom…

You can already see where this is going…

“Ok! Ok! I’m just going to go tinkle” came from the other side of the door. The door opened.

I’m standing there naked using the restroom.

“Oh gosh no”.

I can hear her gasp.

I turned and did the only reasonable thing in this situation.

“Ohhh hiiii…..”

She slammed the door and I could hear her and her daughter fighting in the living room. I could only stand there and wait.

The front door finally slammed as I could distinctly remember hearing more glass fall to the ground.

After all was said and done, I guess the roommate told her mom that they caught someone trying to break into the house and that’s how the window was broken. I cannot see how she bought that being that both of these girls couldn’t weigh over 110 lbs. a piece.  And the only thing in the house was a mexican poncho and a sombrero. They probably coud have fiesta’d the perps to death…

Dating back to when I was a freshman it was the spring semester and I had just recently joined a fraternity.  Not really something I wanted to do but hey it got me out of the dorms.  Well the second weekend I was in the house somebody was throwing a party in the Jefferson Commons apartment complex.  Anyone who has ever lived in Stillwater knows about the wild partying and crazy orgy-fest that go on at that complex.  Well we are partying at this place and it was a gangster theme party because my good friends’ dad owned a drive thru liquor store and was selling us cases of MGD 40s for only 12 bucks apiece.  A hell of a deal for a poor college student.  Well after me and a guy named Eric and a girl named crazy bitch decided that party sucked so we were going to another party. 

As we pull around a corner in the neighborhood this party was taking place in we see a cop so Eric turns the corner and tries to outrun the cop and we pull into a friend named Paul’s house.  The cop lights us up and pulls us over in the driveway.  Crazy Bitch throws her open 40 in the back seat with me.  Cop comes up and smells alcohol and makes Eric get out.  Crazy Bitch gets out and the let her call a friends, which came and picked her up whom by the way, was pilled out. 

I get asked to get out of the car and they drill me with questions while Eric looks on thru the window of the back seat of the cop car with hand cuffs on.  They searched the car and found 3 12 packs of 40s and made me personally empty ever single bottle.  Then they arrest me and take me to jail for public intox.  A fucking PI for drinking 1 40 and crazy bitch had a pill head come pick her up and she was fucked up.  I wasn’t even drunk yet. 

Fast forward to the next day.  I get out and they hand me all my stuff and make me pay a fee saying since this was a first offense I wouldn’t be charged but I had to pay 85 dollars to charity.  Fine whatever, “who do I make the check out to?”  

Well later that night since it was MLK weekend we had another party at a house about 6 blocks from the fraternity house.  I got pretty loaded this night.  I think I weighed every bit of 130 pounds as a freshman and I drank the better half of a 24 pack I was splitting with a friend.  By better half I think he only had 8.  So after I started swaying and felt like I needed to go home and sleep it off.  Walking seemed like the safest and most logical mans of transportation considering the state I was in and m run in the night before.   Whoo Whoo.  Police sirens and lights pulling me over.  The Cop, ” hey son it looks like you had trouble walking across that street there?” No officer I am fine I live right there in the fraternity house.  The Cop, “follow my pen.  Okay now say abcs frontwards and backwards.  You’re under arrest for Public Intox.  Fuck again.  But I only live right there.  It’s only 100 feet away to the property line.  Come on give me a fucking break. 

So I went to jail. Again.  This time they stuck me in a cell that was completely cement and would only allow me to have one shirt, my jeans and socks.  The room was about 50 degrees and it was January.  I was cold.   I asked them for toilet paper saying I had to shit but they wouldn’t give it to me.  I really only wanted it so I could wrap myself around it like a mummy to stay warm but they explained to me that I could use it to clog the sink/toilet and drown myself.  I tried to sleep only to be awoken by the guard. 

The Guard, “hey you want some eggs?  We stick them in the microwave oven heat em up and you eat em.  You want sum?” 

Me.  No thanks I’ll sleep. 

The next morning I got transferred to county.  I got in the car in cuffs sitting next to this black guy.  He asked me, “what they got u in here for n*&&@?” 

Ah man I got a PI. 

The guy, “Man they got me in here for firearms and possession of paraphernalia and weed and on warrants.” 

That sucks man. 

So in the car on the way to county lock up a Nelly song came on and the cop turned it up. The Black guy, “man u likes this song.  It’s bunk.” 

The cop, “man I just want to hear that song Air Force Ones.” 

The black guy, “man u know u can get ya sum of them Air force ones at WALLS for like $20 bucks.” 

The Cop, “Oh really that’s cool man.  I don’t know about the shoes I just like the song dawg.” He actually called this drug-dealing gun toting gangster “dawg”.  I was appalled. 

So anyways we get to the stations and I am getting strip-searched.  They make me lift up my sack and spread my cheeks and the black guy says, “Ah man I’m black I don’t need to do this shit.” In my mind I am thinking,”Man you were caught with several possession charges and I am in for being drunk.  You don’t think they need to check your ass for crack.” I pictured in my mind him digging a rock out with a comb when he got in his cell. 
 

Well shortly after that they released me and told me to call a ride.  I told them I didn’t have any numbers and would just walk.  They gave me my belongings minus my shoes.  They asked what color they were and I said white and they showed me some Jordan’s or something.  I said no I just have some ADIDAS tennis shoes. 

Low and behold they left them at city so I had to ride with a cop again to city to pick up my shoes.  He said he would drop me off at home and I told him I didn’t want people there to know because I thought I might get in trouble with the frat.  So he dropped me off at the fire department and I walked over a mile to get home.  What bullshit. 

When we wrote back and forth she would always ask the typical questions like, “what did you do over the weekend”, “what are your plans this week” and “come over and watch me try on my new lingerie”…

Ok I made up the first two.

Anyways I was telling her about a weekend that I ate at Red Lobster, the seafood place.

“I was at Red Lobster this weekend and my waitress obviously had a fake leg because she walked like a pirate. The food was a high C; low B at the best but I give the character authenticity an A+”.

If I were a girl I’d sure date me.