"I'll love you till the stars fall out of the sky "
:cool
OMG I can see it!!! LOL You really are a super writer. TY
"I'll love you till the stars fall out of the sky "
:cool
Good job Brasi! you have had nurses training! Im so proud you are thinking of everyones safetyOriginally Posted by brasi
BTW: can someone spray down that sheet of plywood? Or...at least flip it over?
Or...drag it out into the sun so the spores...don't...well...you know...MULTIPLY
Wear surgical gloves, at all costs.
Just some advice from your friendly neighborhood Brasi.
I just read this whole report now, It is hilarious ...I need to quit my job and just read these reports
All the suspects are here..... INSANLY funny!!!!
Clap, Clap, Clap....
"I'll love you till the stars fall out of the sky "
:cool
Can we at least get a picture of the piece of plywood?
LOL@ LAX response
That's sick, but I'll see what I can do - I didn't actually go over and look at it.
So here goes that last little bit of my ‘guy’ trip report.
Tuesday night Fabs and I walked down to the concert at Alfred’s. As usual, the area was all fenced off with blue tarpaulin. They wanted $700J for each of us to get in – which we thought was a bit steep. We were hanging around outside, peeking through the rips in the fence fabric and deciding if we wanted to go in or not, when this guy walks up to us and says, “Me can get you bote in for four hun’ert.”
I was immediately a little leery, but Fabs was already following the guy, so I trailed after them.
He walked us around to the side, where the fence butted up against a structure there. He put out his hand and said, “Four hun’ert.”
“Wait,” I said, “where do we get in?”
“Right dere,” he said, pointing to where he had dug in the sand under the fence. Fabs was standing there looking down at the little trench. It wasn’t very wide or deep – I doubted that a dog could crawl through it.
“That’s a good one, bro,” Fabs said, “but we’re gonna pass, thanks anyhow.”
We went around to the front and paid the $700J to get in. There weren’t many people inside, but there were several hookers. The entertainment was mediocre. We sat down and had a few drinks, fending off the girls as best we could.
We stayed for quite a while, hoping things would pick up, but they never did, probably because most everybody was at the Beanie Man concert at The Jungle. So we left and went for more beers, stopping at Sunnyside, The Boat Bar and later, at Tony’s.
We’d had quite a bit to drink and decided we needed to get some food, so we walked down the beach looking for something to eat. On the way, Fabs abruptly stopped walking and stood with his feet in the surf, staring up at the moon – it was full, or near full, on Tuesday night. The moonlight was phenomenally bright, washing the entire beachscape with beautiful, mellow, silver light.
Fabs was just standing there, looking up at the moon with his mouth kind of hanging half-open. He was wavering a little from side to side. He was transfixed, like a werewolf undergoing a transformation. Suddenly, he toppled forward, doing a full face plant in the water. He immediately stood up and shook it off, and we continued on our way. It was weird – I guess he passed out or fell asleep. Too much weed, probably. However, the unintended dip seemed to wake him up a bit.
We wandered out to the road and found a jerk barrel. Then we went back to the beach and headed to the hotel. We were carrying our chicken with the intention of eating it back there up on the sundeck. Well, it smelled so good that we started to pick at it as we walked. When we got to the old 23/7 establishment (A Safe Haven for Sinners!), which stood derelict and deserted, we turned in and sat on a couple of stumps that used to support the benches at the old bar. There we really dug into our chicken.
It wasn’t long before a couple of young hookers walked by on the beach and noticed us sitting up there. They came over and said hi. We gave them some of our chicken. They started right in on their pitch. We said we weren’t interested - we really weren’t, and we never are; it’s just not our thing. We’ll look at the girls and comment on them, but it’s really just from an esoteric viewpoint.
So one of these girls, a real looker, goes over to Fabs and starts running her hands all over his thighs as he’s sitting there chowing down on his chicken. Fabs shouted, “Hey!” He pushed her away and sat up a little straighter. But she’d gotten his attention. He looked her up and down and said, “So, why don’t you show me what you got.” I think he meant it as kind of a dare.
She had a really nice, tight, athletic type body – very hot and aesthetically pleasing – like a fine bronze sculpture of the female form.
Fabs said something like, “Whuu! Nice!”
Meanwhile the other one was standing beside me and running her hands all over me and cooing and saying “Baby, baby,” and like that. I kept telling her that she was very pretty but I wasn’t interested. I gave her another piece of chicken to keep her hands busy.
So, the good looking one was standing there in front of Fabs, buck naked. I started to laugh, and so did the girl who was beside me. Fabs had a big sh!te-eatin’ grin on his face; he continued to munch on his chicken.
It must have suddenly occurred to Fabs that the girl would expect to be paid for the service that she was rendering. He raised both of his arms in the air and yelled out, “Hey, I’m not payin’! I’m not payin’!” He had a big piece of jerk chicken in his hand and sauce on his face and he was looking down at this girl, who was laughing but at the same time still working away at him.
So eventually, Fabs felt that things were getting ‘out-of-hand’ so he put his chicken down and pried the young lady off of him. He then jumped down from the stump.
At that point I was off my stump and bent over laughing. He looked at me and said, “I’m not payin’,” as if I had anything to do with it. Then he hustled off down the beach. I followed him, and the girls followed us.
The girls stayed with us until Fabs finally convinced the one that he really wasn’t payin’.
Eventually the girls left us and disappeared into the night.
So, that’s it. Fabs is gone and my ‘Guy’ week has come to a close. I’ve had fun writing about it.
Soon, Bea will be here and I can chill a little.
Oh! I think I mentioned that there is a long line-up of family, friends and acquaintances who will be coming/going over the next three weeks. One of them is a fellow we call J.T. I met J.T. at the old For Real bar a few years back. J.T. is a real character – not a womanizer like Fabs, but a kind of rolling comedy show.
J.T. gets here on Sunday. It should be interesting.
My Books:
Walk Good - Sunset Negril - Night NurseAvailable @ www.amazon.com - search 'Roland Reimer'
Too funny..... I searched for 23/7 on the message board this am wondering what had become of it..... Now I know!
Excellent read.......I'll be downloading your 2 books to the Kindle. Thanks for the entertainment!
After washing it off...and sterilizing it...cut and sell little pieces of that 1/2 sheet of plywood off as necklaces.
Talismans, if you will. For guys like me that have LESS luck (skill?)...maybe Fabs would even sign them. They could be carved out into the shape of a "JOHNSON." Taking a euphemism from Booger, the necklaces could be called "Hanging Brains."
Am I on to something here?
"Hey I got laid three times last week...with three separate chicks! This Hanging Brain really works!"
GerryG123 could have his own infomercial!
I mean, I was there 12 days in January. But I only got one "R.B.I." and a couple base hits...and a triple. With the same girl. How boring. JK LOL
Fabs sounds like one of the best closers ever. That plywood is like an ass magnet.
Last edited by brasi; 02-09-2012 at 06:26 PM.
Lol! Make sure I get my royalties.
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