School Whores

For some extremely odd reason I’ve been having these weird flashbacks to junior high/high school lately. I think it started one day when I was talking to a friend about how I was awesome at every sport in school (except baseball, which I played for a season and only hit one ball, it was a foul) but only went out for golf. Team sports always seemed kind of douchey to an awesomely self centered guy like me. Anyways, ever since that mini-flashback it opened up the lame nostalgia flood gates. It did, however, remind me of my favorite thing about school… The whores.

When I moved to a new town, and a new school in 7th grade I didn’t know what expect. It was a tiny town so coming from much bigger town I naturally expected to be the god of that school in a day. I also naturally expected to introduce people to hot new brands like Nike and Tommy Hilfiger, since they’d probably never heard of them before. Much to my surprise I was absolutely correct, besides the name brand clothing thing, turns out they were big everywhere. My very first day of 7th grade in this new school I got asked out by three girls!

It was a big decision between these three girls. There was a super cute and popular one, one that was “alright”, and the last one I could probably get to blow me under the bleachers. So in all reality it was between the super popular one, and the whore-ish one. It was a really tough decision. Should I go for instant popularity or instant sucked off-ness? Being the new guy I decided to take my time to make my decision. It was the perfect “play hard to get” situation. I was trying to play them off each other with the ultimate plan of negotiating for “hand stuff” with the popular girl on the back of the bus. Well, much to my dismay my newness wore off pretty quick and I ended up doing “hand stuff” by myself in the shower that night picturing having all three of them at once. I still think I win.

During my 7th grade year I also had a hot, young agriculture teacher who had an alleged history of banging students. This fucking broad wore short skirts every day and didn’t have so much a desk in front of the class, as she did a table. Every day in class all us boys took turns dropping our pencils on the floor to get an awesome peak at the teachers goods. It was beyond awesome. Now that I look back at this bitch, she reeks of whore. I was even told about a year ago that she knew what we were doing, yet she kept her legs uncrossed! How dare she tease a class of ridiculously horny 7th grade boys like that. If I was strong enough I probably would have raped a bitch back then. I’d probably lay her head down on that giant papercutter and threaten decapitation while I had my way with her. Then I would have sliced her head off because I didn’t know how pregnancy works.

I have a feeling that this next girl I’m going to talk about is in every single class, in every school, across the country. It’s the gigantic whore who started and continued dating 23 year old guys from the time they were in 8th grade, through graduation. It was fucking ridiculous. The only girl any of us guys had a shot with was banging college dudes. It was completely unfair. The only good part about this whore was that she let all the guys grab her boobs whenever we wanted. Every shop class I would get in about 10-15 titty squeezes. They weren’t even that big and/or awesome, but they still helped me bring my own wood to shop class every day. Zing! Oh jesus fuck that joke was terrible.

Then there was the out of town girl who moved in during high school. She moved in during a summer and I didn’t even know about her until she had already banged like three dudes. This girl was fucking insane, but what’s not to love about someone who says they want to have sex with 6 guys, and blow 9 other ones by the time she graduates so it’ll be “69″, which doesn’t make any sense because 6 plus 9 is 15. So she probably meant “6, 9″.  I guess the comma is supposed to represent one of her aborted fetuses. I instantly fell in love. Nothing ever happened with her though because I can’t not make fun of a whore, which means she ended up hating me pretty instantly.

Looking back I realise that it’s really a shame that the alleged whores were never whores with me. Sure I could have taken a ride on a gravel road with two of my friends and some girl who was going to blow us all, but what’s the fun in that? I don’t want to watch cock, or have my cock watched by other dudes under any circumstance. Unless, of course, I’m in an all male video chat room and feeling really lonely, but even then it’s just to hear compliments about how “alright sized” it is. Does that make me gay?

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Not So Swift Stop

For as long as I can remember I’ve always had “run ins” at convenience stores. I don’t know what it is about them, but they always seem to harbor the most odd and awkward situation imaginable. I have actually been amazed at how long it’s been since I’ve had an extremely awkward and just plain weird convenience store encounter. Well, a couple of weekends ago I went to a little place called “Swift Stop” to get a fruity frosty type thing at about 9pm, and “it” happened.

The first thing that seemed a little off about this particular situation was how quiet the whole place was. There were a handful of people present and nobody was saying a word. I swear, the cashier had to have been checking people out in mime fashion. My friend and I actually felt like we had to whisper because of the weirdness. So I got my drink and headed back to the line, where in front of me was some guy paying for gas, and behind him was a skinny girl.

First off, I think the guy paying for gas was on drugs. He said he put $30 worth of gas in his car, and he needed to pay for it. The cashier, however, didn’t show any pumps having $30 on it. These two disappointments went on for about 5 minutes trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Guy: I had $30 in gas.

Cashier: What pump?

Guy: I don’t know.

Cashier: I don’t show $30. I show one pump with $17

Guy: What? I put in 30.

Cashier: Did you already pay it with your debit card at the pump?

Guy: Umm. No.

…

…

Cashier: I only show a 17, and that’s probably someone else’s that’s out there, but you can just pay that.

Guy: But I put in 30.

Cashier: Yeah, but I only show a 17.

Guy: I know I put in 30.

I swear to fuck, I about double-punched them in the face, slammed the money for my slushy on the counter, raped the skinny girl in the anal, and stormed out. Oh, and they never did figure out the gas situation, so the guy paid a random amount of money for fake gas and then left. Then the skinny chick purchased only a Black & Mild cigar, which made no sense to me at first, but then I realized she must have a black boyfriend. Which is also extremely weird because I thought they only went for fat broads.

I should probably mention that throughout the entire standing-in-line situation there was a guy walking from the paper rack, to the back of the line every 30 seconds. He’d pick up a paper he wanted to purchase, get in line, then walk back over and pick up a different paper. This fucking guy walked back and forth no less than 12 times total. It was just creepy. Still though, everyone was really calm and quiet, but for some reason I was about 95% sure I was going to get shot. Any other time if a guy walked in with a ski mask and yelled “I’m going to shoot this fucking place up!” I wouldn’t even blink. But for some reason, the complete silence and weirdness got to me. Maybe it’s because everybody else must think that this whole situation was normal, like I was in some parallel universe where awkwardness is the norm, and that scared the shit out of me.

Maybe that feeling that I was going to get shot was caused by the next guy who walked in. He was a Jamacian gentleman, who was mumbling to himself. As he was standing in line behind me, some crazy bitch walked in and started giving the Jamacian guy a hard time. Really weird, Jamacian fight. I felt like I was in Cool Runnings or something. When the lady left, the guy just kept saying things like “fucking crazy bitch, mon”. I felt kind of bad for the guy actually, because I’m pretty sure that lady had a cock and if she did, she probably knew how to use it. I felt like bonding with the guy, because I’ve had my fair share of crazy bitch situations as well. I turned to him and said “Aww, Jamakes, it’ll be alright buddy. Do you want to be friends?”… I’m just kidding, I make a point to never talk to blacks strangers.

Luckily I got out of that place alive, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sprint to the closest door with my arms flailing over my head after I paid. It’s a shame the convenience store trip took so long, because my friend and I had big plans that night. We were actually on our way to the Wal-Mart parking lot to sit and make fun of all the people who shop there. So I pretty much just spent the night making fun of fat white people, lonely high school kids, and Mexicans.

Technorati Tags: Awkwardness, Convenience Store, Swift Stop