Insensitive
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From: .........
Re: Insensitive
Originally Posted by Angel Of Death
I think I just threw my back out in a fit of intense laughter. Her dog is having a seizer, didn't see that one coming! tell her you'll dig her a ratdog sized grave if she buys you a new shovel. men love shovels, what can I say
I Chose to No Longer Post
Joined: Dec 2002
Posts: 6,267
Re: Insensitive
Originally Posted by od1nixer
Screw that, I'll make her buy me a new toilet, I think I could flush the dog. At least it would be fun to try
I Have Too Much Free Time
Joined: Oct 2002
Posts: 12,735
From: Diddleboro , MA
Re: Insensitive
Originally Posted by paragus
me too.. i swear.. im surfin stuntlife.. go into RM forums.. then im like..YES!!! more posts in the insensitive thread :YEAH 
Registered User
Joined: Oct 2002
Posts: 729
From: South shore
Re: Insensitive
****IN GREAT: sounds just like my ex...oddly enough she got a ratdog too...and she was int the military...and she wanted to marry me...WTF...LMAO...then she tried to pull the pregnant **** with me...I told her to hit the road...THAT **** AINT MINE...lol...u sure were not talkin bout the same bitch...by the way this isnt mike... 
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I Enjoy Posting At StuntLife!
Joined: Oct 2002
Posts: 2,676
From: .........
Re: Insensitive
Originally Posted by Jay6
Have not any anything jucy in here for a while 
I don't know, not much been going on for me. Been avoiding psycho, not really getting any entertaining taco anywhere esle. Too busy with bikes and playing ball to go find myself any new stories. Don't fret, there's a redhead on one of my softball teams that's shaping up to be an ex-psycho quite nicely!
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I Enjoy Posting At StuntLife!
Joined: Oct 2002
Posts: 2,676
From: .........
Re: Insensitive
Well, I figured I'd give you all an update, as psycho pulled some more **** yesterday. Cut me some slack here if there's errors, my hand got tore up the other day by a dog (gotta love roommates 
) I've got like two fingers with only band aids on them to type with on my right hand (now I know how fat people feel.) The rest is stitched and bandaged up, conveniently right as we're getting 70-80 degree weather. I'm sure by the time next week rolls around when I can ride, it'll be shitty and snowing. Oh well, back on topic.
So last time I talked to psycho was probably two weeks ago. I had been trying to avoid her, telling her I lost/forgot my phone, you know, the usual. She finally caught me when I was too stoned to think quick, and cornered me into going out to dinner with her. I tried breaking my leg real quick in hopes of a fun trip to the e.r. but I failed. So I suggest we go somewhere to get a nice big steak. No dice. She says she makes great steaks and we should stay in. Ummmm..... okay, bang it out real quick, send her on her way. Simple, yet effective! Ahhh... if life were simple.
So she comes over, immediately bitching. **** beans! "Who's clothes are those?"
"Why are my pictures gone?"
"Where'd all the condoms go?" You know, the usual. So I cut into a case of Labatt's in hopes the the Canadian beer will help me cop a buzz quicker than the miller light in the fridge. About 4 beers into the evening, she tells me it's "that time of the month." **** beans! You mean to tell me you come over for the first time in weeks, and I can't even hit it? OOOOooohhh, I'm glad I'm getting blitzed for this (Labatts kicked in pretty good so far) So she continues cooking, bitching non-stop (I swear I never heard her take a breathe) and grilling me on what and who's been in "our" house. Ooh, Most Extreme Challenge is on, righteous!
By the time we're done eating, she has made thorough rounds through the house, and made sure all her pictures are back in the proper place. I have had 9 out of 12 Labatt's, a mediocre steak, and am oblivious to the constant buzzing come out of this bitch's mouth. I tell her I'm toasted and am going to lay down. Ding Ding Ding! She gets a ****-eating grin on her face. **** beans! So she proceeds to start a dick sucking marathon that I lost track of (Most extreme challenge was running a close race for entertainment value.) All the while telling me how we'll have to get together sometime when we can both have some fun. Sure thing, I'll put that in my day planner straight away.
So for the last two weeks, I've been operating in Secret Agent mode. Running covert operations under her radar. Sunday night I get a voicemail from her in tears. Screaming, crying, you know, the usual. She claims she's depressed, and no one understands her (imagine that.) She needs someone to talk to, and I'm the only one who will listen (
.) Pleading with me, she has something she needs to tell me. I tried handling this over the phone, and through text messages, but she gave me no real substance. I knew what she wanted. She wants me to repay the favor for the marathon a few weeks back. Umm...uh...My grandma got hit by a bus, I'll be out of town for a few weeks, I've got aids, my dogs pregnant, anything to get out of this. No dice.
So she shows up last night unannounced. **** beans! I send Nicole out the back door when I saw psycho show up ( she's great like that, she don't want no nothing to do with psycho, either.) She comes in crying, asking to please go talk in private with me. By this point, I'm really curious as to what the dilemna is. We get to my room () and I immediately start grabbing for my bubbler. No luck, she has intercepted my hand only to redirect it to her *** and she says "look, new panties, feel, they're soft." **** beans! I keep asking her what the problem is, and before I know it, we're screwing like it's our honeymoon.
The sad part is, I know she does have a lot of problems, and she should talk about them. Her brother is suicidal, her sisters a **** (I'll try not to laugh), her mom's a pill-popping alcy, her dad is in jail for his 6th D.U.I. and negligent homicide (go figure). Her past relationships have been a nightmare, and the National Guard is shipping her out in about a month to go help with this conflict overseas. Boy am I glad I don't have to listen to that.
) I've got like two fingers with only band aids on them to type with on my right hand (now I know how fat people feel.) The rest is stitched and bandaged up, conveniently right as we're getting 70-80 degree weather. I'm sure by the time next week rolls around when I can ride, it'll be shitty and snowing. Oh well, back on topic.So last time I talked to psycho was probably two weeks ago. I had been trying to avoid her, telling her I lost/forgot my phone, you know, the usual. She finally caught me when I was too stoned to think quick, and cornered me into going out to dinner with her. I tried breaking my leg real quick in hopes of a fun trip to the e.r. but I failed. So I suggest we go somewhere to get a nice big steak. No dice. She says she makes great steaks and we should stay in. Ummmm..... okay, bang it out real quick, send her on her way. Simple, yet effective! Ahhh... if life were simple.
So she comes over, immediately bitching. **** beans! "Who's clothes are those?"
"Why are my pictures gone?"
"Where'd all the condoms go?" You know, the usual. So I cut into a case of Labatt's in hopes the the Canadian beer will help me cop a buzz quicker than the miller light in the fridge. About 4 beers into the evening, she tells me it's "that time of the month." **** beans! You mean to tell me you come over for the first time in weeks, and I can't even hit it? OOOOooohhh, I'm glad I'm getting blitzed for this (Labatts kicked in pretty good so far) So she continues cooking, bitching non-stop (I swear I never heard her take a breathe) and grilling me on what and who's been in "our" house. Ooh, Most Extreme Challenge is on, righteous!
By the time we're done eating, she has made thorough rounds through the house, and made sure all her pictures are back in the proper place. I have had 9 out of 12 Labatt's, a mediocre steak, and am oblivious to the constant buzzing come out of this bitch's mouth. I tell her I'm toasted and am going to lay down. Ding Ding Ding! She gets a ****-eating grin on her face. **** beans! So she proceeds to start a dick sucking marathon that I lost track of (Most extreme challenge was running a close race for entertainment value.) All the while telling me how we'll have to get together sometime when we can both have some fun. Sure thing, I'll put that in my day planner straight away.
So for the last two weeks, I've been operating in Secret Agent mode. Running covert operations under her radar. Sunday night I get a voicemail from her in tears. Screaming, crying, you know, the usual. She claims she's depressed, and no one understands her (imagine that.) She needs someone to talk to, and I'm the only one who will listen (
.) Pleading with me, she has something she needs to tell me. I tried handling this over the phone, and through text messages, but she gave me no real substance. I knew what she wanted. She wants me to repay the favor for the marathon a few weeks back. Umm...uh...My grandma got hit by a bus, I'll be out of town for a few weeks, I've got aids, my dogs pregnant, anything to get out of this. No dice. So she shows up last night unannounced. **** beans! I send Nicole out the back door when I saw psycho show up (
she's great like that, she don't want no nothing to do with psycho, either.) She comes in crying, asking to please go talk in private with me. By this point, I'm really curious as to what the dilemna is. We get to my room () and I immediately start grabbing for my bubbler. No luck, she has intercepted my hand only to redirect it to her *** and she says "look, new panties, feel, they're soft." **** beans! I keep asking her what the problem is, and before I know it, we're screwing like it's our honeymoon. The sad part is, I know she does have a lot of problems, and she should talk about them. Her brother is suicidal, her sisters a **** (I'll try not to laugh), her mom's a pill-popping alcy, her dad is in jail for his 6th D.U.I. and negligent homicide (go figure). Her past relationships have been a nightmare, and the National Guard is shipping her out in about a month to go help with this conflict overseas. Boy am I glad I don't have to listen to that.
Formerly Triumph01746
Joined: Oct 2002
Posts: 265
From: boston
Re: Insensitive
Originally Posted by od1nixer
Well, I figured I'd give you all an update, as psycho pulled some more **** yesterday. Cut me some slack here if there's errors, my hand got tore up the other day by a dog (gotta love roommates ) I've got like two fingers with only band aids on them to type with on my right hand (now I know how fat people feel.) The rest is stitched and bandaged up, conveniently right as we're getting 70-80 degree weather. I'm sure by the time next week rolls around when I can ride, it'll be shitty and snowing. Oh well, back on topic.
So last time I talked to psycho was probably two weeks ago. I had been trying to avoid her, telling her I lost/forgot my phone, you know, the usual. She finally caught me when I was too stoned to think quick, and cornered me into going out to dinner with her. I tried breaking my leg real quick in hopes of a fun trip to the e.r. but I failed. So I suggest we go somewhere to get a nice big steak. No dice. She says she makes great steaks and we should stay in. Ummmm..... okay, bang it out real quick, send her on her way. Simple, yet effective! Ahhh... if life were simple.
So she comes over, immediately bitching. **** beans! "Who's clothes are those?"
"Why are my pictures gone?"
"Where'd all the condoms go?" You know, the usual. So I cut into a case of Labatt's in hopes the the Canadian beer will help me cop a buzz quicker than the miller light in the fridge. About 4 beers into the evening, she tells me it's "that time of the month." **** beans! You mean to tell me you come over for the first time in weeks, and I can't even hit it? OOOOooohhh, I'm glad I'm getting blitzed for this (Labatts kicked in pretty good so far) So she continues cooking, bitching non-stop (I swear I never heard her take a breathe) and grilling me on what and who's been in "our" house. Ooh, Most Extreme Challenge is on, righteous!
By the time we're done eating, she has made thorough rounds through the house, and made sure all her pictures are back in the proper place. I have had 9 out of 12 Labatt's, a mediocre steak, and am oblivious to the constant buzzing come out of this bitch's mouth. I tell her I'm toasted and am going to lay down. Ding Ding Ding! She gets a ****-eating grin on her face. **** beans! So she proceeds to start a dick sucking marathon that I lost track of (Most extreme challenge was running a close race for entertainment value.) All the while telling me how we'll have to get together sometime when we can both have some fun. Sure thing, I'll put that in my day planner straight away.
So for the last two weeks, I've been operating in Secret Agent mode. Running covert operations under her radar. Sunday night I get a voicemail from her in tears. Screaming, crying, you know, the usual. She claims she's depressed, and no one understands her (imagine that.) She needs someone to talk to, and I'm the only one who will listen (.) Pleading with me, she has something she needs to tell me. I tried handling this over the phone, and through text messages, but she gave me no real substance. I knew what she wanted. She wants me to repay the favor for the marathon a few weeks back. Umm...uh...My grandma got hit by a bus, I'll be out of town for a few weeks, I've got aids, my dogs pregnant, anything to get out of this. No dice.
So she shows up last night unannounced. **** beans! I send Nicole out the back door when I saw psycho show up ( she's great like that, she don't want no nothing to do with psycho, either.) She comes in crying, asking to please go talk in private with me. By this point, I'm really curious as to what the dilemna is. We get to my room () and I immediately start grabbing for my bubbler. No luck, she has intercepted my hand only to redirect it to her *** and she says "look, new panties, feel, they're soft." **** beans! I keep asking her what the problem is, and before I know it, we're screwing like it's our honeymoon.
The sad part is, I know she does have a lot of problems, and she should talk about them. Her brother is suicidal, her sisters a **** (I'll try not to laugh), her mom's a pill-popping alcy, her dad is in jail for his 6th D.U.I. and negligent homicide (go figure). Her past relationships have been a nightmare, and the National Guard is shipping her out in about a month to go help with this conflict overseas. Boy am I glad I don't have to listen to that.
) I've got like two fingers with only band aids on them to type with on my right hand (now I know how fat people feel.) The rest is stitched and bandaged up, conveniently right as we're getting 70-80 degree weather. I'm sure by the time next week rolls around when I can ride, it'll be shitty and snowing. Oh well, back on topic.So last time I talked to psycho was probably two weeks ago. I had been trying to avoid her, telling her I lost/forgot my phone, you know, the usual. She finally caught me when I was too stoned to think quick, and cornered me into going out to dinner with her. I tried breaking my leg real quick in hopes of a fun trip to the e.r. but I failed. So I suggest we go somewhere to get a nice big steak. No dice. She says she makes great steaks and we should stay in. Ummmm..... okay, bang it out real quick, send her on her way. Simple, yet effective! Ahhh... if life were simple.
So she comes over, immediately bitching. **** beans! "Who's clothes are those?"
"Why are my pictures gone?"
"Where'd all the condoms go?" You know, the usual. So I cut into a case of Labatt's in hopes the the Canadian beer will help me cop a buzz quicker than the miller light in the fridge. About 4 beers into the evening, she tells me it's "that time of the month." **** beans! You mean to tell me you come over for the first time in weeks, and I can't even hit it? OOOOooohhh, I'm glad I'm getting blitzed for this (Labatts kicked in pretty good so far) So she continues cooking, bitching non-stop (I swear I never heard her take a breathe) and grilling me on what and who's been in "our" house. Ooh, Most Extreme Challenge is on, righteous!
By the time we're done eating, she has made thorough rounds through the house, and made sure all her pictures are back in the proper place. I have had 9 out of 12 Labatt's, a mediocre steak, and am oblivious to the constant buzzing come out of this bitch's mouth. I tell her I'm toasted and am going to lay down. Ding Ding Ding! She gets a ****-eating grin on her face. **** beans! So she proceeds to start a dick sucking marathon that I lost track of (Most extreme challenge was running a close race for entertainment value.) All the while telling me how we'll have to get together sometime when we can both have some fun. Sure thing, I'll put that in my day planner straight away.
So for the last two weeks, I've been operating in Secret Agent mode. Running covert operations under her radar. Sunday night I get a voicemail from her in tears. Screaming, crying, you know, the usual. She claims she's depressed, and no one understands her (imagine that.) She needs someone to talk to, and I'm the only one who will listen (
.) Pleading with me, she has something she needs to tell me. I tried handling this over the phone, and through text messages, but she gave me no real substance. I knew what she wanted. She wants me to repay the favor for the marathon a few weeks back. Umm...uh...My grandma got hit by a bus, I'll be out of town for a few weeks, I've got aids, my dogs pregnant, anything to get out of this. No dice. So she shows up last night unannounced. **** beans! I send Nicole out the back door when I saw psycho show up (
she's great like that, she don't want no nothing to do with psycho, either.) She comes in crying, asking to please go talk in private with me. By this point, I'm really curious as to what the dilemna is. We get to my room () and I immediately start grabbing for my bubbler. No luck, she has intercepted my hand only to redirect it to her *** and she says "look, new panties, feel, they're soft." **** beans! I keep asking her what the problem is, and before I know it, we're screwing like it's our honeymoon. The sad part is, I know she does have a lot of problems, and she should talk about them. Her brother is suicidal, her sisters a **** (I'll try not to laugh), her mom's a pill-popping alcy, her dad is in jail for his 6th D.U.I. and negligent homicide (go figure). Her past relationships have been a nightmare, and the National Guard is shipping her out in about a month to go help with this conflict overseas. Boy am I glad I don't have to listen to that.
this **** is classic...thanks for lightening a rainy day...
Registered User
Joined: Mar 2004
Posts: 925
From: Surf City- NC, Flint - MI
Re: Insensitive
Originally Posted by 01746honda
this **** is classic...thanks for lightening a rainy day...
Hopefully for your sake she will stay overseas for a very long time and come back forgettin gyour number...
Registered User
Joined: Jan 2003
Posts: 964
From: Boston,MA
Re: Insensitive
OD1 you are my hero you have the best stories in the world. like teach said u should write a book and i will buy all of them. dude tell us more hell make **** up i dont care and i dont think anybody else would. 
Thread Starter
I Enjoy Posting At StuntLife!
Joined: Oct 2002
Posts: 2,676
From: .........
Re: Insensitive
I don't think you guys could handle me in person. I'm a Hungarian/Hebrew from Chicago, and I talk with my hands . You guys would die if I could tell my stories with the body language, too.
. You guys would die if I could tell my stories with the body language, too. 
