Archive for August, 2012


A Sword Fight and A Foursome

So, as of a few nights ago, I received permission from granola to tell a story. Now I’m my own man, and I don’t need nobody’s permission fo shit. I do what I want yo!
But I respect my bros. So I kept it locked in my mind safe. And only I have the password for that.
But here goes. Not sure how much I remember from this night. It was a motherfucking American Pie party. So I was as smashed as Robert Pattinson’s pug ugly fucking face.
This is the story of Granola’s condo-warming/ 21st birthday party.

So Granola had just moved into his condo, and it was conveniently in the same month of his birthday. So this party was an obvious necessity. Which we most obviously need a repeat of. Eh Granola? Big wink.

So. Big turn out. Lotsa booze and lotsa peoples. And lotsa fucking crunkness. A lot of it coming from me.

Now to start off. Two beast swords. Two beast ass motherfucking swords. This was my gift to the beautiful man. And when he opened his gift, he tripped some major fucking balls. The idea came from How I Met Yor Mother. My hope was that he would hang these up in his new condo, just like in the tv show. That was a year ago now, and I still haven’t seen them. I may have spent nights crying over this. But I also may not have. It will forever remain a mystery.

But we did get good use out of them. It goes like this.

It’s not too far into the party yet. A decent turn out so far. Good guy girl ratio, which is a definite plus. Tipsy bitches here. Drunk assholes there. PornStar’s girlfriend, Princess, was in full fledged judge the sluts mode. I think she breathed fire.

And it’s around this point, the flirtiest damn girl in the place demands a sword fight. When I say flirty I’m being generous. This girl would drunkenly latch onto one guy, and when that guy stops paying attention, move onto the next, and repeat. And this happened repeatedly throughout the night. I think there were times that I looked at Princess, and she was actually lost for words with this disgusted look on her face. The way she looked at this girl could have killed a fucking rhinoceros.

So, sword fight. This chick, we’re gonna call her……Screech; she was so into the idea of having a sword fight that it was actually annoying. She kept going on and on about it. Someone should have stuffed something in her mouth.

Like, I dunno, cabbage or something.

But eventually drunken Granola agreed to the terms. And I followed them outside onto the front lawn of the condos. I’m not sure if anyone in the upper condos got a look at the new tenant trying to have a sword fight, but if they did, that’s fucking awesome. So they’re circling each other, and Granola has this huge, anxious smirk on his face. And last minute he bails out. And what did I do? Fuck that. I wanted to have a fucking sword fight. Which is funny because…..

Rooster: I wanna have a fucking sword fight.

So I grabbed the sword from Granola and got into this crazy ass pose with my right hand holding the sword over my head, crouched with one leg in front like a fucking Jedi.

Screech: Be careful! We’re having a fake sword fight!

Drunken Rooster: Fuck that! These are real fucking swords. I’m having a fucking real fucking sword fight!

If I’m holding a real fucking sword, I’m not having a fake sword fight. That’s fucking ridiculous. When I fuck, you think I fake fuck? Jesus fuck.

So I attacked. Now I don’t know if it looked awesome or anything. But fuck it. I felt like a fucking king. And it was extremely gratifying. It went on for about thirty seconds and then she screeched.

Screech: You cut me!

And she ran inside.

I fucking cut a bitch. I stood there for like, 10 drunken seconds all like……woah.

And to be entirely honest. I felt good. I walked back inside and everybody was talking about it. Asking me what happened and tripping balls and shit. And I go up to the bathroom and find that she’s in there with Granola, and she’s crying. I’ll admit, I felt a pang of guilt. But.

Rooster: Well fuck. She wanted a fucking sword fight. She knew what she was getting into.

And besides. It was just a cut on her finger. Yes, it bled. But come on.

Ultimately, I feel no guilt. Fuck that. This is super jokes. She wanted so annoyingly bad to have a sword fight. And she got what was coming to her.

I’m not saying I wanted to cut her. But it happened that way. Which is easily foreseen.

It’s not like. Don’t have a sword fight! You might get hit by a plane! Now THAT would be entirely fucking surprising. But one of these sharp weapons that we’re fighting with just happens to break the skin? Easily foreseen.

So this took up a lot of attention for the next hour or so. And I swear, the fact that I just cut her with a sword actually turned her on. She latched onto me for the next hour like she was gonna jump down my pants and fucking live there.

But I was so fucking annoyed with her that I wasn’t responding the way a guy should have. This night should have ended in a particular fashion.

Boy meets girl. Boy and girl have sword fight. Boy cuts girl. Girl cries. Girl wants boys cock. Boy power fucks girl.

But this isn’t what happened. I was a super dick to her from that point on, because I was so fucking FUCKING FUUUUUUUCKING annoyed with her and the whole situation. I was so mean to her, that it drove her away entirely. And ultimately, to another guy’s cock. Which leads to the rest of the party.

So after this the party fills up like a fucking U2 concert. But for better reason, because U2 wasn’t there.

But it’s safe to say the noise level rose like they were. In one corner FlipSide and I are jamming out on our acoustics with some of Granola’s older Jamaican friends. Which was fucking fantastic.

Middle of the room has a tiny game of Flip Cup going. And when I say tiny, I mean that literally. It was on a tiny table with tiny cups. People were actually on their knees.

In another corner, Princess is sitting there. Likely past judge and onto executioner mode. I’m not a slut, And I was terrified for my life.

Screech is making her rounds, from guy to guy, until she ends up in another corner. She’s dancing all slutty, with her super hot body. And starts make out sessions with a couple other girls that are present. One of Granola’s Jamaican buddies was literally open mouthed watching this occur. While a couple guys are filming this shit. Like I said. American Pie party.

All this is going down with music going in the background. It was fantastically chaotic. And you can quote me on that.

And after another ten minutes or so, I find out that Screech and two girls have moved into Granola’s bed room and closed the door.

No. Fucking. Way. I was entirely tripping balls over this. And I needed to see this. Just like every other guy present. So I walk up to the door, where JimJim and Strong are standing.  And I start telling people that I’m going in. My plan was to walk in all surprised looking for the bathroom. In the least subtle way possible. Foolproof. I know. But as I walk up, JimJim and Strong hold up their hands as if they’re bouncers.

Strong: You can’t go in man.

Rooster: Come on man! My plan is fucking brilliant!

JimJim: Granola’s in there.

Rooster: What?

Strong: Granola’s in there man.

Rooster: GRANOLA’S IN THERE!?!?

And the news spread through the party like a fucking forest fire. Granola was in the room with 3 fucking girls. 3 FUCKING GIRLS. Everybody fucking freaked out.

And Princess exploded. It took a bunch of us to put all the pieces back together. Princess and PornStar were the first to leave. With JimJim. And she wanted out so bad, she grabbed JimJim’s fucking newly opened beer and dumped it.

Now I won’t go into specifics here. Granola did get a good fucking time outta that experience. But unfortunately for him, the rest of the party owned his face.

This happening signalled the end of the party. And everyone started peacing out. And more than one person had stuff in Granola’s room. So needless to say. His party performed the biggest cock block in Canadian history. I included.

People kept opening the door to get shit. Screech was almost completely fucking naked fucking right away. And she may have gotten a little bit of Granola Bar. At least in the mouth.

But every time it happened.

Granola: GET THE FUCK OUT!

He screamed that at least 5 times before FlipSide and I got outta there.

And unfortunately. Granola’s hook up with 3 women, was rendered incomplete.

But despite that. Come on. What a fucking thing to happen when you get your first condo. Fucking boss mother fucker that Granola. I apologize on behalf of the entire congregation for the massive cock block. And I apologize to your awesome girlfriend for this story. (He was single the night of. Just in case anyone thought differently)

And that, my friends. Is the story of the sword fight, and the foursome.

Kentucky Fried Rooster

Good day my friendly friends. Today I go a fair distance back, 5 years or so. Back to my dumbass days. For those of you who have not read “Ignite Me”, first off, you blow entire ass. Quite literally. And second off, back in the dumb teenage stage, PornStar, Granola, Mysa, TinyBoi and I, used to do stupid shit, film it, and call ourselves Dumbass. We were no Jackass, mind you, but we did some fucked up shit.

The day is Halloween. The year, 07.

Now I am not a fan of Halloween. I stopped trick or treating somewhere around 8 or something. And unless I have reason, like dressing up as Wolverine while a current girlfriend dresses as The Phoenix, I won’t wear a costume.

On this particular occasion however, I had good reason. On this Halloween, I dressed as a fucking chicken. Well, it was a bit of a weak ass chicken, but a chicken nonetheless. Pornstar’s Mom had bought a fucking fifty dollar chicken mask for me, so you know it was legit. And I wore a super small fucking girl sweater that Mysa gave me. So really, I was a guy with a giant chicken mask, which I wore the fuck out of by the way, a tiny yellow sweater, and jeans. I was motherfucking Baws Chicken.

The plan. Go to KFC.

Yes. Mhm. I, Dressed as a chicken, went to Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Mysa filmed the entire thing, and to top it all off, she was dressed as Charmeleon. Fucking motherfucking fucking Charmeleon. It was excellent.

So I walk into KFC, all nonchalant and not giving any fucks at all. I hadn’t even done anything yet and all the patrons in this evil fucking fast food joint are mindfucked. People doing double takes and staring open mouthed and shit.

So I walk up to the counter, and stand at the end of the line. I’m entirely winging it. No plan whatsoever. Standing there basically acting as if I’m reading the menu. And most of the people in the line haven’t even noticed this motherfucking chicken kid standing there.

It gets to me, and I approach the counter. And the person next to me fucking freaks the fuck out. Silently, but rather obviously. And I look at her for longer then what is acceptable glance duration. Which freaks her out even more. And then I turn to the person at the counter. And this chick be trippin. And without even thinking about what I say.

Rooster: I want my kids back.

These wonderful KFC fucking employees were not trained for this shit. What the fuck are you supposed to do in this situation? COOK the giant chicken man? I can see the headline.

Hybrid Chicken Man Accuses KFC Of Stealing Children, KFC Cooks It

So these people have no idea what to do. How to proceed?

Rooster: Someone took my children. I really miss them. And I know it was you!

The younger employees weren’t even laughing. What the fuck, you think this ISN’T a joke? You think I’m a real fucking chicken?

Cause obviously I was.

So at this point the “badass” one steps forward.

Mr. Badass: C’est quoi tu fait man. (French for what are you doing man. For those of you non French speakers)

Rooster: You kidnapped my fucking children. And now you’re gonna fucking cook them. And bread them. Then Bitches are gonna eat them. And I want them back! Gimme my fucking kids!

Mr. Badass says nothing and just looks at me. The other employees behind have no more fucking jaws, seeing as they fell through the fucking floor.

Rooster: GIVE ME MY KIDS BACK!

And Mr. Badass’ response was to grab the chicken mask and yank it. Oh now you fucken gone and done it fuckstick. I’m a fucking chicken. And a fucking chicken does not take kindly to having his face pulled. So I slapped his hand away super hard. Which completely scared the fucking everything out of him. And I screamed fucking loud as shit.

Rooster: THAT’S MAH FACE!

And this is the point I felt it appropriate to squawk in his goddamned face. I swear to fucking Yoda, I got so close to his face when I squawked, I could have snapped his nose off with my real fucking chicken beak.

I then proceeded to run around KFC multiple times flapping my arms and squawking like the pimp fucking chicken I was.

What a fucking scene I made. Rest assured, everyone in that place will never fucking forget that crazy shit. I made their lives.

P.S I fucking hate KFC

A Blowfish Wedding

As of last Monday, Blowfish is married. You already knew this was coming up if you’ve read my previous blog entry. If not, go read it. Fuckerface. So Blowfish is now married to an awesomely awesome woman. Blowfishette is so sweet and she’s the best thing that has ever happened to Blowfish. I’ve never seen him so happy. Although I am legitimately disappointed that Blowfish is not my wife, I think I can get over it. I think it’s safe to say they’re the best married couple ever in existance. Until I get married that is. *Wink Wink*.

But Seriously, to Blowfish and Blowfishette, I wish you guys all the best. Do me a favour and own the shit out of all other married people. If that’s cool with you. Kthxbye.

So moving on, the story of the Blowfish wedding.

Part 1. Morning.

So Chinese weddings are different than the weddings of us normal people. (I’m kidding about the normal people bit, for those of you who are sensitive) To start things off, all the groomsmen need to go to the groom’s house, for something they call pickup games. I’ve never heard of anything like this and I’d be surprised if you have. Basically, the groomsmen and the groom have to do these mad embarrassing things in order to get into the house so the groom can see the bride. Super weird, BUT. It was awesome. And mad fucking jokes.

So the best man, FlipSide, and the rest of the groomsmen; Aces, Hurley, Granola, Remicks and I, all suit the fuck up, and head over there for 930 in the morning. (Remicks wasn’t a groomsmen, he was actually the priest. Hold onto that info for a while, I’ll come back to that later.) None of us had any idea what this morning entailed. So everything was normal, we went about our business, getting ready and shit. The photographers took crazy boss photos of us manly fucking men in our beast ass attire. We were totally pimp. And the photographer was super jokes and kept talking in a british accent. His line of the night being the word “tight”. And Hurley saying some of the jokesest fucking things. Sometimes we don’t even know where they come from.

—    Photographer: Alroight Guys, Lets git toighta Now. C’mon now. TOIGHT!

Hurley: Toight Loike A Potato!

Rooster: What the fuck is tight like a Potato?

Hurley: It sounded good with a British accent.

So to the pickup games. The first game, each of us had to hold a yoga pose for one minute. Aces got the worst fucking one. He had to bend over backwards and plant his hands on the ground. Needless to say, his was not a success. But fucking Hurley DESTROYED. Seriously, looking over at him, he had this weird pose where he was on one foot, leaning forward with his body in some strange position. And he was as still as a statue. If I was a pigeon, I would have landed on this guy. Maybe even taken a shit on him.

After this we had to make a pyramid. Which is self explanatory, and as a story not all that funny. What was funny, was Aces. He was next to me on the bottom of the pyramid, and after we built it, he randomly starts dying. Laughing like crazy and trying to keep it under his breath.

Aces: Dude. Oh my god. There’s like a hundred asians watching us right now. We’re like their white entertainment. I’m tripping so much balls.

For the third game, the bridesmaids gave each of us a diaper containing a mess of whipped cream and chocolate syrup. And our task was to do 10 pushups, and lap up the “shit” out of the diaper every time we go down. 6 fucking guys in tuxes and suits, doing pushups in their front lawn, and eating from a diaper. Everybody was nice and clean though. No mess.

Wait. What? Did I just say no mess? Sorry I’m a fucking liar. I Obviously got chocolate stains on my tie and my fucking shirt. Those of you who know me, would not be surprised by this. Everyone else was fine and fucking dandy, no stains, no mess. But me. Somehow I got it in my fucking HAIR. Needless to say, the Mcdonald’s bib that they gave us for protection didn’t do shit.

So two more relatively embarassing games later, we finally help Blowfish get inside, and see his bride. And she looked beautiful. Good fucking job Blowfish you lucky guy.

Part 2. The afternoon.

So after eating lunch, where the bottomless pit that is Remicks ate the equivalent of a fucking whale shark, we hop in some limos and head off to the Botanical Gardens for pictures.

Getting in this limo was fucking paradise. It was so hot outside in our full tuxes, we almost fucking died. And getting inside, the others won’t admit this, but I’m pretty sure we collectively orgasmed.

To the Botanical Gardens. Though it was totally worth it in the end, this was probably the most uncomfortable I’ve been in my entire life. Midday, outside, and in a fucking tux on one of the hottest fucking days I can remember. All the lucky ass bridesmaids got to wear their damn dresses while us men were roasting. I think there’s a mild possibility that I would have swapped a while with one of them, I think I could have looked rather pretty in a shiny purple dress.

Now as soon as we got to the Gardens, we knew bad times were comin. Crazy clouds in the sky called for a nice downfall of rain. Our best hope was to get all the pictures taken before this happened. Unfortunately for us the sky opened up and just dropped everything it had on us. And we managed to squeeze the 20 of us or so under some kind of random shelter we found. And after a little bit it was pretty fucking obvious that we were fucked, and this rain was not about to let up.

It’s at this point that the photographers and Remicks start trying to convince everyone to make a run for the indoors section of the garden. Which was a decent distance away, and while it may have been possible for us, and maybe even the bridesmaids. This was not a good idea for the girl in the damn wedding dress.

And that’s when an idea comes to Remicks. Next thing I know, Remicks and Granola are taking off into the rain. Their self appointed task? Stealing a giant fucking umbrella from the tables across the courtyard. The few people around were frozen watching these two guys in suits trying to get this umbrella free. In the POURING rain. It took them like 3 minutes to figure out how to get it out. Even some of the employees stopped to watch. It was fucking heroic. I’m gonna hire a bard to sing songs about them all across the land.

So they come back to escort the first group across. And on the second trip, Remicks takes off again while Granola brings the second group. And then fucking Remicks is back in a matter of seconds with a fucking second umbrella. Like I said. Heroic as fucking Thor.

Part 3. The wedding and the night.

Given that the place they had their ceremony and reception was totally fucking boss, obviously the ceremony was beautiful. Blowfish and Blowfishette looked amazing. And Remicks married them.

Yes. Our short Italian Godfather married the two Asians in front of an almost entirely Asian congregation. And wait, I’m not sure, but did I mention he did half of it in Chinese?

No? Well now you know. It was totally boss. And a little bit jokes. Before the ceremony I was with Remicks, Blowfish and one of his cousins, and Remicks was reciting the Chinese part. As you can probably expect, this isn’t the easiest languange for an English guy to learn on short notice. And there was one line he couldn’t get right. According to Blowfish’s cousin, if he had said it wrong, he would have basically said, “They’ve been together for two nipples”.

So he didn’t say that line at all.

So now to the reception. Apparently, the 97 course meal was fucking amazing. I wouldn’t know seeing as I can’t do any kind of seafood. So I basically just ate a bunch of bread. Which meant that I proceeded to get fucking facefloor smashed. Sitting at the table with the groomsmen and Hurley’s girlfriend, one course in and I’m already on my 6th drink.

At one point Aces had the amazing idea to ask the bartender about a drink one of our favorite songs is named after. The drink being Soco Amaretto Lime. Excellent drink. And I had about fucking twenty of them. At least half of these before fucking 8 o clock. Here are a few exchanges involving drunken Rooster.

— While repeatedly hitting a bunch of dangling tear drop shaped ornaments on the lamps.

Rooster: THESE THINGS ON THE LAMPS LOOK LIKE A BUNCH OF BALLS.

Granola: Dude you’re fucking drunk.

I get up and run to other tables.

Rooster: THESE LAMPS HAVE BALLS. LOOK AT THE BALLS!

— For some reason, at one point we all started singing I Will Always Love You by….what…Whitney Houston or some shit?

Hurley: Rooster, I think you’re singing just made me pregnant.

Rooster: It’s cause I have a really high sperm count in my voice.

Maybe halfway into the meal, we had to do some of our groomsmen duties. This consisted of following the bride and groom and their family and cheersing EVERY TABLE. It was simple really. We had to drink anything anyone gives us. Whether it’s wine, champagne, or fucking rum. And if anybody said the words, “Yam Tsai”, you had to down your entire drink. And as you can imagine, any time Remicks or FlipSide or anyone looked at each other. Yam Fucking Tsai.

It got to a point where we needed refills so often, a waitress followed us from table to table with a bottle of champagne. She had this look of complete astonishment at how fast she was going through bottles. It was fucking hilarious. And we were beast.

Now I’ve already mentioned how awesome the photographers were. On top of that, they set up this photo booth with props and all this shit that anyone can use for free. And it had a huge screen that displays each photo that’s taken for the entire reception to see. Obviously we destroyed that fucking booth. Our group spent at least a third of the reception in there at least. It was some of the most fun I’ve ever fucking had. And I’ve been inside a vagina. So you can take my word for it.

After the Yam Tsai business, we’re back at our table. And Remicks is with us talking some drunken nonsense that I don’t fucking remember. Whatever. And the next thing I know he’s gone. I look over at the photo booth and see a photo of a bunch of chicks, And Remicks fucking right in the midst of them. It’s like he fucking teleported. He was just talking with us 20 FUCKING SECONDS BEFORE. This guy has some fucking beytie sixth sense. If there is a congregation of the opposite sex, Remicks is drawn towards it like a fucking asteroid.

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. Random shit happened at random times. Everybody is fucking drunk as fuck from the goddamned open bar.

At one point I come storming into the photo booth screaming.

Rooster: EVERYBODY OUT! I’M TAKING THE BEST FUCKING PHOTO IN THE WORLD!

I was entirely serious about this statement. And nobody seemed to fucking get it. Actually, it’s more likely that everyone didn’t care and wanted to fuck with me. Cause my buddy Yams wouldn’t get out. I remember him refusing, laughing the entire time. And people started throwing shit at me, and taking photos of me nonstop to document my ensuing drunken fucking temper tantrum.

I was completely adamant about this, and I would not leave until the best photo ever was taken. And eventually I succeeded. I haven’t seen it since, but at the time, I was completely overwhelmed with pride. If I remember correctly, I’m centered in the photo, coming towards the camera screaming intensely with my hands balled into fists. Like the motherfucking Hulk. I love myself.

So by now most of the family has cleared out and it’s basically just the younger crowd. So we found ourselves partying with Blowfish’s Asian cousins. And these guys are fucking monsters. Fucking huge partiers. And everyone is entirely fucking drunk. Which was then helped further along by the cousins.

— FlipSide: Bartender! 4 tequila shots.

Cousin: MAKE IT 20!

— Remicks: Could I get 2 rum and cokes?

Cousin: Fuck that. MAKE IT 20!

FlipSide: TWENTY!??

— Aces: Bartender. Gimme what you think I look like I need right now.

Bartender: ………..

Cousin: FUCKING MAKE IT 20!

So again. Just to reiterate. All of us. Smashed.
Blowfish ends up back with us and he is destroyed. Completely fucked out of his mind. And unfortunately by the end of the night, puking his mind out to the world. Apparently his plane ride was not that amazing the following morning.

And at one point I approach FlipSide and he is SMASHED. He’s got his arm around one of the cousins, and I kid you not, this is what he said.

FlipSide: ROOSTER. Rooster! This guy right here! This guy is the understanding of drinking!

What the fuck does that even mean?

Epilogue.

So I was the first to peace out. My ex girlfriend was there with the current boyfriend. And he started having some kinda tantrum. So I was like. Fuck that. Drama starting? I’m out.

So I walked back to the hotel and went to sleep. And about an hour later, I get a phone call that takes me out of my drunken stupor.

FlipSide: ROOSTER! ROOSTER WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!? ARE YOU AT THE HOTEL?

Rooster: The fuck are you yelling for? Yeah I’m at the hotel.

FlipSide: Dooooooooooood. Can you come find me? I don’t know where I am. I’m so drunk.

Rooster: ………

FlipSide: Wait. Waiiiiiit. I see the sign.

Rooster: What the fuck are you saying?

FlipSide: I see the sign for the hotel! I’m good.

Rooster: Alright. Where’s Granola?

FlipSide: Oh my god Granola. Where the fuck is Granola? *Click*

I think I layed there for a couple minutes thinking the same thing before falling back asleep. And when I was woken up again as FlipSide stumbled into the room. I found out where Granola went.

It turns out the motherfucker had a crazy adventure of his own. Him and Aces went with two of Blowfish’s cousins to find an after hours club. But just ended up in china town. They drunkenly ordered 150 dollars worth of fucking chinese food. And they served them beer in tea pots and tea cups since it was 4 in the morning. Which leads to wake up # 3.

It’s fucking 6 o clock in the morning, and I’m woken up by fucking pounding on the door. When I open it I’m completely baffled by the sight in front of me.

Granola and Remicks are standing there. Remicks is holding boxes of food. And they’re both fucking COMPLETELY drenched, still in their suits. Apparently it had rained up a motherfucker while we were asleep. And Remicks was stuck in it all alone for 3 hours. When the China Town group showed up, he started devouring noodles with his hands because there weren’t any chopsticks.

It was a fucking heartbreaking sight. I stood there half asleep without saying fucking anything. Just staring at them. Granola comes in and takes my comforter.

Granola: I’m just gonna fucking sleep on the floor.

I barely got back to sleep when AGAIN, there’s fucking pounding on my goddamn piece of shit fucking door. And I get up and there’s another one of my boys. He was nicknamed Fucker by PornStar back in the day.

Fucker: Dude. I need somewhere to sleep. I can’t drive my car.

Rooster: Uhhhhh. Alright just come sleep in my bed.

And I finally got to fucking sleep. With Fucker next to me, for like 3 fucking hours.

Crazy fucking day.