od1nixer

I don't know what he said, and I don't know if I like the way he said it; but I do know that Scott Cleveland wears pretty pink panties

Luke

come on OD1....give us some stories!

Angel Of Death

I concur sir

od1nixer

I read it a few times. I'll go to London with you on one condition, you have to wear a muzzle and mittens.

od1nixer

Awww, come on. I thought it sounded kinky

Angel Of Death

I thought you were from Long Island? Fake ******!

Gix6

OD1 i thought this thread died, glad to see its back to life, great f-ing story, i was rolling when i read about the salesman *** gettin blasted with the water

And how the hell do u forget to go to work LMFAO

RedRebel

Update?

Miked01r6

od1...for a burnt out stoner that forgets to go to work...ur a damn good writer...how does that happen?? lil bit jealous

od1nixer

Okay okay okay, I guess I've put this off long enough. I've been so busy enjoying summer, that I could give a f.uck less about writing anything. Unfortunately for me, it's cold, gloomy, and rainy today, so you guys might be in luck. Don't know if I'm feeling the vibe, I haven't had much going on in my head lately, but I'll take a hack at this. Speaking of which, I better text psycho right now and harass her a bit. Done and done.
Did I say that me and psycho were getting along last time? Well, strike that. I must have been in dire need of a ******* or something, because I probably forgot to listen to her for a week or two. She must have thought I gave a f.uck or something. I pulled my head out of my *** a few weeks ago, and realized she's still nuts. I hate the fact that she can't be normal, because she sure is fun in the sack. After any random sexual adventure we might have, she follows it by looking at me and proclaiming her everlasting love for me. Call me cold, but after a girl sucks me off, I don't want to hear about how much she loves me. I want to hear her footsteps going to the bathroom to get a towel and clean me off. But that's neither here nor there. The problem with her is that as she feeds me a line of bullshit, I know she's lying through her teeth.
"I haven't slept with anyone else!" () Well then, how many dicks have sucked? She doesn't understand that I could care less about her seeing other people, just don't lie to me. Ya know? If you're sucking someone else's ****, just tell me so I don't kiss your skank ***. But if you're trying to be all huggy kissy when I know damn well that mouth has been somewhere I don't want to be, I'm gonna get annoyed.

"So how's being a groupie ho working out for you?"
This town isn't very big, and everybody pretty much knows everybody else in a round a bout way. So word gets around like TT600guy in the YMCA bathroom (sorry man, I'll stop, some day). When she lost her job because of getting involved with a manager, she tried telling me she just wanted to explore new career opportunities (career! ). Well this new career she's playing around with sure does give her an up close and personal relationship with her mother's couch. When her signature on her text messages says "Ryan's Girl" she told me it was just a joke and she forgot to change it. I could go one forever, but I think you guys get the jist of it.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, she tried telling me that I have substance abuse issues, so I promptly told her to eat s.hit and die. So I haven't really been talking to her besides the random text message. You know: "It's ten thirty in the AM, do you know where your morals are?" and the like. Besides that being funny for obvious hipocritical (sp?) reasons, it's even funnier because she doesn't know what I'm talking about because she still thinks she has pulled the wool over my eyes. "Can I see you tonight" Oh man, tonights not a good night, I've got a hot date with a Miller High Life bottle and my couch.

Other than that, I've just been laying low. Aside from being cracked out on Welbutrin, everything is gravy. A new dog wandered into the yard a couple months ago, and Cujo kind of adopted him. Wait, I don't think adopted is the proper word. Maybe raped, or molested . Cujo is just a hornball that humps anything with a scent. I named this Scrappy, because he reminds me of Scooby Doo's little cousin Scrappy. Little f.ucker suffers from the Small Man Syndrome. He talks big, and acts big because he's got to prove himself because of his small stature. This can be very entertaining at times. I took him out to my parents house one day, and he wandered into the neighbors yard. The drunk **** next door starts petting him and squealing in a high pitch squeal like any pig would do. I'm just sitting on the porch watching this, while Scrappy kind of gives this lady a confused look. Out of nowhere, he sidles up to her tree trunk of a leg, lifts his leg and pisses on the bitch! Oh man, I knew right then and there that he was my dog. It was meant to be. In addition to the entertainment he provides, he's just a cool dog. He still got his puppy makers, so he likes to wander. I can't take him to work with me like Cujo, so as soon as I leave in the morning he takes off. I bet he runs this neighborhood, got the bitches on lock. I wondered where he went everyday, until one day I caught him down at the river chilling with the homies. I go to work all f.ucking day, while that s.o.b. kicks it at the beach. Beer, bitches, water, and sand; f.uck I despise him. Watched him lick this topless hippie skank's tittie while she was sunbathing, and he stole my heart. I know she was a nasty chick, but he was on the right track. The dog just showed up one day, starting kicking it with us and figured he was among like minded individuals. So he just became one of the crew. Good addition to the compound. He also chases his tail which is worth a million drunked amusement points.

Hmmm.....I could go on forever, and I just might. I got to take my "lunch" break, though. So I'll see if I give a f.uck when I get back; if I come back. Aww ****, I still got to tell you guys about Brandi. Yeah, I'll be back.

Luke

alright...lets hear about brandie!!

03gixxer1k

This thread, back from the dead!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, more of the adventures of od1nixxer!!!!!!!!!!!

Brett256

Another od1nixer quote that will go down in the history books..simply profound

od1nixer

Have you ever walked into work after your lunch hour, and suddenly realized that you are way too ****ed up to deal with such a thing? I mean really, really high? I'm talking wasted. At first you think it's just the pot, and you're really stoned. Maybe it was that rollie cigarette with the shake you found in your boots mixed in that you smoked on the ride back to work. Might have been the smooth black and mild blunt you smoked in the garage on your way out of the house. Couldn't have been the 9-10 bong rips you power-lunged on the couch after you walked in the door. Definitely wasn't the bowl you were smoking on in the car even before you left the parking lot at work. You're way too high to making decisions like "Should I shut off my headlights?" let alone be functioning in the workplace. You find yourself knee-deep in a conversation about snowtires with another worker-bee before you realize that the waters are too cold and you should jump out. Just as you're about to make a break for it, you're forced to remember that rail of crushed up darvalortabpercosette or whatever the f.uck it was (God only knows with my friends who shoved it in front of me; it was probably a mixture of numerous drugs laid out into a twix bar sized mound). Not only by the raunchy drip in the back of your throat, but also by the rubbery feeling that just raced from your head to your toes. Oh yeah, that's the stuff! Definitely some sort of painkillers in there.
You snap back to reality and feel the urge to bark and snort at the idiot babbling about snowtires. He doesn't even flinch; takes it in stride and continues talking. Am I becoming that predictable? You finally get to sit and hide for a moment, and realize that there's a pungent odor seeping up from your pockets. Upon further investigation, you discover you have a ridiculous sum of pot on your person. Upwards of two and a half ounces. What the f.uck were you thinking? Maybe your judgement might have been impaired by the beer that was handed to you as you walked in the living room by one of the people still pouring on a wicked bender. When your roommates realize you're home, the buzzer sounds and instant chaos ensues. It's a mad dash to pump you full of as much and as many substances as they can. Christ on a crutch! I hope I didn't take any doses, slipping into a trip right now, whoa, that would be really bad. The next 20 minutes blur as you speed past any form of coherent consciousness. Your plans of taking a shower and sobering up were gone long before you started the chain smoking, and cursing your garage full of useless car and bike parts.
When you become aware of the fact you've drank two beers and now you have to go back to work (as if you didn't smell like an ashtray flavored air-freshener already) you frantically search for some food to hopefully drown out the alchohol on your breath. As expected, the crackheads have cleaned out any substance that resembled sustanance, so a wine cooler and a double cracker cheese sandwich will suffice. You scramble to find any cigarette, but to no avail. Your tub of rolling tobacco is hidden under your bed, so when you reach down to grab it, you realize you've forgotten why you went home in the first place. Your shoes! You got about halfway through the morning without realizing your shoes are splattered with what looks like a pukish substance; someone had a rough night! As you reach for your boots, you find another bag of hash, shake, and possibly some keef. Throw that into a cigarette, and you're ready to rock and roll. You notice the lump in your bed doesn't look quite right, and strangely blonder than what should be there, but out of fear, you leave it alone and hope to ignore it. You swim through a crowd of zombies, and smoke, looking for an exit. Fresh air and sunlight are almost in sight when you're grabbed by your crotch and redirected to the kitchen pantry. When your eyes start to work together all you can see is tan ******* and blonde hair. Oooh ooh ooh ooh WEEE! Ah but this will get ugly, as you've forgotten her name. This girl, this beautiful, previously innocent girl who courted you and melted your heart last night. Who spent the better part of three hours conversating with you, and ultimately professing undying love for you. YOU have forgotten her name. But there's no time for that, you make out like fourteen year olds at the roller rink for thirty seconds followed by "Hey baby, I hope I'll see you tonight" You disregard her response as you're enchanted by the black and mild dank stick in her ear, holding back some beautiful locks of blonde hair that still look good after a night of partying. You snag the blunt and exit stage left.
As you firmly grasp the doorknob to freedom, you ponder why there is a full blown circus in your house. With any luck, you just forgot that it was someone's birthday, and this will all be over in a few days. Wincing as you step through the door, praying to God that the elephants and the rest of the circus aren't in the garage, you realize it's worse. Better spark that blunt, it's gonna get bumpy. Your best buddy Brett is in the garage elbow deep in the front end of your truck. After analyzing the time situation, you decide you're not going to ask what he's doing to your truck. Instead, you stick the blunt in his mouth, and jump in with him. I just remembered that part when I was sitting at work later, and thought that someone rubbed ink all over me and my desk while I was sleeping at my desk. Thankfully, it was just motor oil.

You're already late, so why not stay and finish the blunt, and help your friend accomplish essentially nothing. As much fun as that wasn't, you thought it better to make like a tree and leave rather than make like a pig and stink. So you kick it in gear. You snag the pooch who lookes a little bit worse for the wear, and haul *** out the driveway. As you're cranking the hardshit in the stereo to windshield shattering levels, you light your rollie. Got to have the music loud enough to knock those stupid f.ucking nic-nacs off the shelf in your ex's mom's house at the end of the block by the time you get there. F.ucking witch tried putting me, I mean you, in jail. Got to teach her a lesson, right? Done and done, now you can turn off that obnoxiously loud music. You hit the radio, and break into "Sweet Caroline" which makes you think of drunken stories on stuntlife of Dr. Death's superior vocals. That reminds me, my *** itches, scratch scratch scratch, and a quick check that I didn't crap my pants ala 1000ceecee style. Everything is gravy until you notice there's a run in the rollie. A little dab will do ya, and next thing you know you're heading into oncoming traffic. Overcorrect, and you're headed straight for some limp-dick bicyclist that should get out of my way. Lucky for him, you swerve in time for him to catch some of that gravel you lofted his way. "Your mother's a *****!" If you don't know how to ride a bike, you shouldn't be in my way.
You get back to work just in time to be only a half hour late, whew, good thing too. You realize you didn't provide the dog with proper ventilation, and you're pretty sure he's stoned. It's okay, he won't tell on you he's a trooper. He walks in and snaps his treat out of a coworkers hand, and it looks like the dumbass let your dog nip his finger in his munchy-craving greed. You laugh maniacly as he whines like a bitch. The dog goes straight to his food bowl, and drinks every last drop of water before starting to eat. He eventually passes out in the food bowl, and remains there for the afternoon.

F.ucking A Rights, don't you hate it when you have a day like this? Has this ever happened to you?


.....................me neither

Kunty GF

I love reading this stuff.....haha.....But umm what about brandie.....You forgot about that I guess.....

od1nixer

hmmm...what do I say about Brandi? Well, long story short, she ain't crazy yet, she's fun to look at, but horrible in the sack. That about sums it up I'll elaborate later, I'm wiped