Sunday, July 28, 2013

St. Patty's Day 2012

St. Patty’s Day 2012


Occurred-March 17, 2012


          Bricktop from Snatch: “Do you know what "nemesis" means? A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent. Personified in this case by an 'orrible cunt... me.”


Gingers are an insane fucking race. IM NOT KIDDING. It’s not some joke for cheap laughs. I really don’t give a fuck if you think this is funny or not. I’m stating a fact. WE ARE A FUCKING PACK OF PSYCHOS and if it continues to spread it will make the zombie apocalypse look like a mild case of genital warts. There is a reason that sperm banks in Europe are denying our sperm donations. They are onto us. It’s too late though fuckers. Just like stage 4 cancer you are basically screwed barring a miracle that would make the resurrection look like a David Blaine trick with cards. Kneel and pray to to whaever deity that you hold dear. Why would we need a soul when yours tastes so good?


        Gingerism can manifest itself in many ways and when combined with ADD, alleged (and near certain) Asperger’s syndrome, on top of being half Sicilian, Post Concussion Syndrome (which includes such lovely ingredients as PTSD and Second Impact Syndrome along with vertigo) it can lead lead to a shit show of epic proportions. On this day it combined into a full on Ginger Meltdown.  That’s not to say it wasn’t fucking awesome. The memory of this day will forever be burned into my memory and has unequivocably changed my life and existence forever. Here’s how it all went down:


12:00 A.M: I’m chilling at DiveBar drinking PBR and shooting the shit with ClemsonFan and texting HotVampire about how my drinking is going


12:02 A.M: Since I have officially turned into one of those “I only smoke when I drink types” I decide its time to bum a cigarette which I have grown increasingly proficient at due to my rule of not buying cigarettes since I feel that is somehow going to keep me from turning into a “real” smoker. A Ginger can’t fool himself.


12:03 AM: I ask around for a cigarette out front.


12:04 AM: I find someone to bum one off of.


12:05 AM: Since I’m an asshole I also don’t have a lighter. Only a will and a way.


12:06 AM: I find some middle aged dude going through a frat boy themed mid-life crisis judging from his polo shirt and gelled grey hair that has a lighter. He hands his lighter to me with a look of condecenscion. Fuck him. I’m not the one that looks like he jerks off to the sound of Channing Tatum’s voice.


12:11 A.M: I finish my cancer stick. I head back inside to continue drinking and texting. I told myself I would leave by 11:00 PM since I have to work at my day job at 8 AM. Obviously thats out the window.


12:15 AM: This Sicilian looking chick comes up to order a drink at the bar and stands right next to me. She’s thick with a pretty face. She has been aiming fuck me eyes in my direction since she walked in. I also have enough alcohol in my system to gloss over the thick part. Ever since I started hooking up with HotVampire I have developed new standards for hooking up with women besides the usual requirements disease free and willing.


12:20 AM: I start cracking dead baby jokes and she starts laughing her ass off. I attempt to break through the PBR infused fog of alcohol currently in my brain to figure out how money condoms I have on my person. I realize its 4. They are Trojan Bare Skin condoms. They are as awesome as a condom can get.


12:40 AM: She has to go to the bathroom.


12:45 AM: She comes back and we catch eyes.


1:00 AM: After some flirting that was about as subtle as a prostate exam we are officially using each others tongues to count each others fillings.


1:30 AM: In between fits of making out I saddle up my tab with RedskinsFan. He gives me his usual "Jesus Christ" look because has seen this movie too many times. Atleast I have learned to leave the bar with the girl instead of fucking her in the woman's bathroom. Its all about progress no matter how incremental.


1:40 AM: After making the two block walk to my '92 Honda Accord me and SicilianChick commence making out again. I use this as an opportunity to start putting my hand down her pants to check her tempertaure not to mention for odd bumps and/or oozing sores.


1:41 AM: Check complete. Nothing out of the ordinary. This turkey is ready to pop.


1:50 AM: We walk into the gym that I work at. I show her where I teach Brazilian Jiu- Jitsu and Muay Thai classes. She thinks its cool. I think its time to get to the fun part.


2:00 AM: Me and SicilianChick are making out on the roof. I have been wanting fuck on this roof for awhile and even though I fucked FreeBird on it during Valentine's Day I don't remember it so it doesn't count. If whore logic can work for sorostitutes it can work for me.


2:02 AM: I make my move.


2:04 AM: SicilianChick's shirt is off and even though her stomach sticks out like she is on her third trimester, her tits and face still are enough justify full insertion. Whether or not the alcohol is having a say in the matter is another story.


2:06 AM: I have her laying on an AC Duct whole performing cunninglus on her. See? I can be a gentleman too.


2:08 AM: I strap on the first Trojan Bareskin and prepare for ramming speed. As it inserts the outher hull suddenly breaks. I resurface in order to apply a new Trojan. Back to business.


2:10 AM: Wow given her size and suspected promiscuity it doesn’t feel like I’m throwing a hot dog down a hall way. Plus she’s shaved. It’s nice.


2:20 AM: After getting bored of plowing her from missiuonary I flip her over and hit it from behind while pulling her head back by her roots. I love dominance.


2:30 AM: We attempt to fuck upright against a wall by the ledge but realize the right angle for optimal insertion could potentially end with her falling off the ledge. Drunken sex acts are one thing, involuntary manslaughter is another.


2:32 AM: We decide to do doggy while standing next to the AC unit.


2:50 AM: She obviously loves this postion judging by her enthusiasm. I'm careful not to thrust to hard and make her head hit the ac unit. The potential bruises in the shape of fingers on her neck can be explained since she's into being choked but amnesia from a concussion can complicate things.


3:00 AM: I finally get off in her mouth (I have a low sensitivity). She's a spitter. I'm disappointed.


3:02 AM: We make out some more and she explains how she has never gotten off like that. Gingers have dem skillz son.


3:10 AM: We walk down to the gym to leave. Just like Bugs Bunny we went left when we should have gone right and find ourselves in a walk of shame with a guy that knows me  on the treadmimlls.


4:00 AM: After a 50-minute conversation about parrellel universes and anything else that would be seen on an episode of Through the Wormhole with Morgan Freeman we finally get out of there and I drop SicilianChick back off at her place.


4:10 AM: While riding over the Ravenel Bridge (the bridge that connects downtown Charleston to Mt. Pleasant) I get a call from HotVampire.  She wants to know what I'm up to. I tell her I'm driving home. We talk all the way to my house. She's getting clingy which I don't mind. If you were hooking up with her you wouldn't mind either.


4:20 AM: I pull up in my parents driveway and walk in the house with HotVampire still on the phone.


4:30 AM: I set my alarm clock for 7:45 AM and figure I'll just use the shower at work to get the smell of fresh sex off of me.


7:45 AM: I wake up and amazingly don't have the usual groggy feeling that accompanies being severely shorted on REM sleep. I throw on my work clothes and head to work.


8:10 AM: Amazingly I'm not that late to work. I decide to forego the shower since I have to vacuum anyway. First I need Starbucks to counteract the the sleep deprevation.


8:30 AM: Vacuuming and Starbucks is definitely helping plus I'm still riding the high that can only come from a casual drunken hook up.


10:00 AM: I call CadetBouncer to confirm working security at this Irish Bar called Molly Darcy's. He confirms that the hours are from 8-2 and the pay is $100 a piece for me and 187 whom is working it with me.


10:05 AM: I call HotKorean to see if she still needs someone to work the door at this bar called Roost. She says she'll call me back at 10:30 when she goes into work.


10:30 AM: No word back from HotKorean


11:00 AM: Still no word. I told 187 that I'd know by 10:30 so that he could tell ScubaJoe whom he was giving a ride too.


1:00 PM: TallGirl comes into work and I can clock out. Time to do a quick workout so I don't have to feel completely guilty about all the fermented calories I will soon be consuming.


1:10 PM: The fire alarm goes off in the gym. I do a quick search of the up stairs areas like I'm Denis Leary in Rescue Me.


1:15 PM: Check complete. No fire. I'm disappointed. I really wanted to use the fire extinguisher.


1:20 PM: I go back to working out while trying to ignore the constant blaring of the fire alarm.


1:30 PM: I finish my workout and head upstairs to shower. I'm giddy with joy at the prospect of getting my Irish on (the drinking part, not the self loathing part).


1:40 PM: I throw down some Chinese food (I guess that means I was getting my Chirish on?) and head out the door in my lucky green button down. Leprachauns ain't got shit on me. I piss in their lucky charms.


2:00 PM: After walking 5 blocks in 80 degree weather (Yes, In March. That's just Charleston) I finally arrive at DiveBar with the intention of downing Guinness and of course bragging about railing SicilianChick.

2:30 PM:  Since they are offering $2.00 Guinesses (in 12 oz. Cups) I am already on number three when this dude that looks like a reject from Swamp People walks over to my side of the bar. Most of the people in the vicinity avoid him like a cold sore. Maybe it has something to do with the jean shorts, ZZ Top-style beard, and black T-shirt with naked white chicks covered in blood on it.  I see an opportunity for some fun in my innebriated state.


2:50 PM: Not only does this guy look like he'd be at home on Swamp People, but he speaks just as coheremtly. However, he never yells out "GETCHUM". However, he does give me a great idea for a depraved sex act with HotVampire though.


2:55 PM:   I text HotVampire:


                   Frank: "Would you be down for fucking in a cemetary?"


                   Yea I know I'm going to hell for that idea. What you don't know is thats where the best tequila, marijuana, and pornstars go to as well. I'll take a bad bitch over a good girl any day. Obviously HotVampire was caught out of left field with that one. She brought up how disrespectful that could be to the dead:


                   Frank: "We'll just have to find the grave of a guy that was a huge douchebag. Like a politician or a former slave owner or something."


                  She seemed quite down for it after that. I instantly started thinking of names to search for on wikipedia. I'm not going to say names but just know that if you are a Charleston native and have a family fortune that stems from slave labor and cotton exports then don"t be surpised if you find my jizz on your grandfather's headstone.


3:15 PM: Eventually the conversation with SwampDude died off and I went back to texting HotVampire about how her a day at work was going. Given that she had to work on St. Patty's I realize now that this is probably a dumb question.


3:20 PM: While texting I start talking to this married couple and the conversation gets pretty insane. It goes on for a while. We talk about everything from quantum entaglement to the higgs boson to the nature of our current society to conspiracies that actually happened such as Operation Northwoods and the Business Plot. If you dont know of any of these then you seriously need to stop watching Fox News and jerking off to the thought of Tim Tebow. Im not kidding, get on and read "7 Scientific Theories that Will Make Your Head Explode" and "7 Insane Conspiracy Theories That Actually Happened". Try not to question everything you were ever told after reading that shit.


4:30 PM: While shooting the shit with JoeTrooper and his wife I got a text from HotVampire about how shitty her work day has been. My response:


Frank: "You should pull a B-Rabbit, drop the mic, and roll out."


She found this hysterical and Facebook worthy.


5:00 PM: I have been shooting the shit with SuperTrooper and his wife, NYGirl, for almost 2 hours now and have come to 2 conclusions.


1. These people are cooler than Adam Sandler pissing his pants.


2. I am not alone in how I think. I know a lot of people would say me and Tucker Max are near clones of each other but they would be wrong. We do share alot of the same views when it comes to women, drinking, being manly, not to mention the whole reason i even got into writing was from reading his books but that's where the similarities end. JoeTrooper on the other hand has so many similarities with me. It was like quantum entanglement personified, and no assholes that doesn't mean it was bromance.


5:30 PM: JoeTrooper and NYGirl inform me that they have dinner reservations at Oak and i give them directions on how to get there. Me and JoeTrooper exchange numbers before they roll on out. Seriously, some of the coolest people I ever met. The fact that he was a soon to be state trooper actually gave me some hope for cops. Ok, not really but i'd much rather have him pull me over than the butch dyke cop from the "Frank Gets Pulled By The Sheriff, Hilarity Ensues Story".


6:00 PM: I get into a debate with Baldy. Before i have to say anything you have to know that Baldy is gay. Its not any sort of homophobia on my part but it is a central matter in the debate of whether or not HotVampire is hot enough to make him switch. Not that i am trying to make him switch but whether her beauty is switch worthy. He is hesitant to admit it at first but he eventually does. That's when you know the chick you are hooking up with is a 10.


6:05 PM: Want to know what the flip side to such a debate is? Appparently its whether or not i would be the pitcher or reciever if i were HYPOTHETICALLY (I cant stress that part enough) in a monogamous homosexual relationship. Goddamn you alcohol. How the fuck do you get me into these conversations? Ok, I'm comfortable enough in my sexuality to field this one.


Frank: (at a volume that would even be questionable in a gay bar) "I WOULD DEFINITELY BE PITCHING"


Thanks alcohol, you douchebag....


6:09 PM: You know what exclaiming that you'd be the dom in a homosexual relationship means? If you answer is anything other than time to close your tab then I highly suggest watching The Birdcage. It will help you come to terms with YOUR reality, i.e. jumping out of the closet.


Needless to say I am promptly stumbling down the street past the the carriage tour buildings where they keep the horses at while making the 5 block trek back to the gym where my black button down for bouncing at Molly Darcy's was.


6:30 PM: I slide my key card through the card reader and walk into the gym to grab my bag. I decide that PBR and burritos would be good for sobering up.


6:33 PM: I walk into Yo Burrito and take a seat at the bar. I order a PBR (you know, to sober up) and a menu.


6:37 PM: I see someone very familiar walking up to the bar. It's my uncle, Pianist (technically he isn't my uncle since he is in a common law marriage to my aunt but he's been in one with her since I was 9 years old). We haven't really talked in awhile since me and my aunt aren't exactly on speaking terms ever since she lost her shit over one of my Facebook statuses (word of advice: don't ever friend a family member on Facebook unless they look eye to eye with you on everything). Me and Pianist got along fine though. We talked for awhile about the drama with me and my aunt, DaddysGirl.


    On the subject of not seeeing eye to eye with my estranged  Aunt; DaddysGirl feels i should be a sheep while getting drunk to escape reality while I prefer to be an individual and get drunk to enjoy reality. She feels that I should apologize for being well, me. I think she needs to come to terms with the fact that her father was an alcoholic on top of being a total control freak and a narcissist. Her not accepting this has invariably led to the proverbial apple not falling far from the vodka infused Sicilian tree. Like i said, typical Catholic family. The Kennedy's ain't got shit on us (besides the huge bank accounts of course).


7:00 PM: 187 calls me to get directions to the parking garage that I told him to park in since I get a key card for free parking. Besides, finding parking in downtown Charleston is a bitch.


7:05 PM:  He pulls up and I hop in his Dodge Ram. We shoot the shit about everything that has been going in our lives including the drama I've been having with LeblancClone and Boze i.e. how they recently showed their true color which is green (a 420 infused double pun on LeblancClone's part. I blaze too but I'd have be on Bob Marley's level before I could come close to LeblancClone's THC levels).


187 talks about how he wants to do another cage fight since he hasn't done one since raping (metaphorically) SimmonDouble's guy that trains at FancyGym. He hasn't had one since he began to be managed by NaiveManager.


7:10 PM: 187 parks after multiple tries in the parking garage. In his defense the parking in this garage is tight and can only be rivaled by Sandusky parking his Ram into a rookie from pee wee leaugue.


7:15 PM: We walk back into Yo Burrito and I introduce 187 to Pianist. We shoot the shit while taking a few shots of Fireball before we have to head to Molly Darcy's.


7:40 PM: I dont know if its the sleep deprevation or the fact that i have been bumming cigarettes since I started drinking at DiveBar but i am seriously dragging ass while walking the 5 blocks back to Molly Darcy's.


7:50 PM: We arrive at Molly Darcy's early. This is so not like me. We walk up to the bouncer who has a head in the shape of a fire hydrant. We tell him that CadetBouncer sent us. He lets us in and we find the owner whom is just as shady as the owner of IrishfratBar plus about 250lbs. You know that old guy in the bar that is a douchebag in every depressing and creepy way possible? Say hello to FatOwner.



7:55 PM: We get set up in the back by the parking lot. Usually when you have two guys that are well versed in hand to hand combat you'd want them in the bar as floaters since they actually know how to well you know? Restrain people without hurting them? It's not my bar and we get paid the same regardless so fuck em'. I'll take easy money faster than Citi Bank getting a bailout check from the Federal Reserve. All I can think about is how bad I could use a red bull right about now, or 30. Now I can understand how sleep deprevation is used as a form of torture. Shit is real yo.


8:00 PM: I realize we are just now officially on the clock. FUCK. This is why i hate being early. It already puts me on someone else's terms.


8:10 PM: One of the bartenders comes up to me. She looks like a female leprachaun with her red hair, short stature, decent body, Irish accent, and a face that looks its seen the ravages of chain smoking mixed with being bashed in bashed in with a shovel about 50 times. I mean she was almost attractive until she started giving me shit for texting on my phone. Sorry sweet heart I'm doing security. I'm not one of your bitch bar backs. I figured that McCunt was just showing the effects of working all day and serving drinks to amateurs who suck at life. That could turn any woman into a bitch.


8:20 PM: This attractive chick comes up to talk to me but a lack of sleep combined with a full day of drinking has my game about as on point as Michael J. Fox trying to shoot a fly with a sniper rifle from a half mile out. I talk her into getting me a red bull instead of talking her into letting me stuff her meat clam.


8:25 PM: She comes back with the Red Bull as I'm dipping some Skoal. That's how you you can tell when i'm in one of my apathetic moods. I chug the red bull hoping that the filtered bull gall bladder (taurine) will help get my game back up to my standards.


8:50 PM: HotBrunette comes back and asks me if I want another Red Bull.  I nod while commencing my usualling courting ritual of making dead baby jokes to see if she is down to fuck. She walks off giving me the assumption that she is going to bring me a Red Bull and is down to fuck.


9:20 PM: It's pretty obvious now that said dead baby jokes have proved that she is neither down to fuck nor is going to get me another red bull. Ehh, if she cant laugh at those jokes then she would probably be a colder fuck than a comatose Hilary Clinton anyway.


10:00 PM: DeliveryGuy shows up with this HOT female friend of his along with LilBoi (which is total irony since he is like 350lbs and 6'4). Not only is she smoking hot but she is incredibly smart. The conversation I have with her is on par with the conversation I had with JoeTrooper and NYGirl. I didn't know if she was hooking up with DeliveryGuy or not so I resisted the urge to ask for her number. I may hook up with some douchebag's girlfriend but not a friends' girl (PepperidgeFarmGirl was a drunken horny mishap).


10:15 PM: I get a text from an old high school buddy of mine that is in town, UncleFester. He wants to know where I'm at and I tell him to come to Molly Darcy's.


10:30 PM: UncleFester pulls up and we shoot the shit. He tells me about being in town for a mutual friend's wedding (well former friend on my part. Like i said, Im an asshole).


11:00 PM: One of the other bouncers, BrownHair, comes up to ask me if I want to switch off on the front gate. I'm not particularly fond of the idea because that means I would have to check IDs which means that sooner or later some douchebag would eventually try to bring someone in with a fake id that Stevie Wonder could pick out of a line up. Said douche bag would know said douche bag owner that would let them in while said douchebag can continue to act like well a douchebag. Molly Darcy's is no different. Especially with FatOwner.


11:30 PM: 187 joins me at the gate and we spend the next hour shooting the shit while checking ID's and explaing to would be customers how DiveBar is way more fun while not charging a $5 cover. Im working their to babysit frat boys and sorostitutes. Not advertise for these McFucks.


12:30 AM I'm inside floating around when McCunt comes out of nowhere like a slutty drunken Irish ninja and starts grabbing me by my shirt to drag me outside like my name is Toby (or is it Esa Kunta Kente?). What the fuck is with this bitch? I mean I've dealt with some crazy stupid bitches in my life but started wonder if I might have to plug McCunt with some hollow tipped silver bullets filled with garlic.


12:31 AM: I follow McCunt out to the back of the building and out to the side street to find some roided up biker looking Ginger laid the FUCK OUT. Apparently St. Patty's isn't an awesome holiday for every Ginger after all. Especially ones that decided he wants to get froggy and talk shit to a legit thug/OG (ish individual).


12:33 AM: RoidGinger comes to. He still wants to get froggy but sadly the OG rolled out leaving him without a playmate. RoidGinger is not happy. McCunt ushers him off before he does something stupid besides the already aformentioned getting laid the fuck out and yes that means a 6'3 250 lb muscled up ginger was being strong armed by a 5'4 140 lb female ginger leprachaun.


12:38 AM: As I am tending to this other Ginger (I'm telling you, us fuckers are everywhere) who experienced some blunt force trauma to the back of her head while trying to break up the fight with an ice pack the police show up. They have a look of confusion on their face. Then again the City of Charleston police probably get confused by the concept of Tetris.


12:45 AM: After asking OtherGinger a shit load of questions since they couldnt seem to understand the concept of "the big roided Ginger went that way with the slutty looking leprachaun" they finally went in the direction that we were both pointing. Seriously this is the same department that failed to follow up on leads that could have easily found my friend who got murdered's body, Kate Waring, and not only did they not find her body but they then proceeded to "detain" the private investigators who did find it while proceeding to actually wash away evidence from the bath tub that they used drowned my friend in (in a suitcase of all things) This is after they talked her into getting into a suitcase before zapping her with a taser and beating her unconscious with a wine bottle. This actually has made it so that the two responsible, Heather Kamp and Ethan Mack, will more than likely (barring them catching some terminal illness which I totally hope happens to them) see the outside of a prison one day. Seriously when the State Solicitor that is as much of a hard ass as Scarlett Wilson can't get a life sentence on a case that should have been a total slam dunk like this then you know that the ENTIRE police force in your town is completely incompetent at their jobs including Chief Mullen. Seriously watch the episode of Dateline on NBC titled "Stranger on a Train". Fuck you City of Charleston Police Department and your St. Leo University or whatever fucking piece of shit online degrees that you have. If you are reading this FreshBerry then please don't be like them.


1:00 AM: I am back inside the bar when a guy I know brings me a shot. Don't mind if I do. Technically we "aren't allowed" to drink on the clock but I care about as much about FatOwner and his shitty paddy spud McMinions as much as the Black and Tans did.


1:15 AM: I am out back shooting the breeze with UncleFester along with his brother and melato looking buddy from Vegas. Melato wouldn't shut up about wanting to get pussy? Hey here is a thought; maybe attempting to talk to a girl might actually help you get laid instead of just talking about wanting it? I would have told him this but I was talking to UncleFester and scoping out the scene for girls to talk to and offend in order to you know? "Woo" them into having sex with me.


1:20 AM: MassTrick shows up right as CreepyMelato keeps talking about how his life sucks or something. The look on his face as she jumps in my arms lets him realize I know a thing or two about what I'm talking about since he probably figured out that my cock has been in her orifaces along with probably 20% of Boston's male populations that are of reproductive age but thats another story entirely.


1:35 AM: MassTrick tells me how she got jumped outside of this dive bar called The Recovery Room. Just think of DiveBar but with way more hipsters and you'll get the idea. FunGinger (according to her) gets free shots for flashing her tits whenever she wants one.


      MassTrick getting jumped isn't too surprising considering that when she gets drunk she can have enough vinegar in her blood to make Wanderlei Silva blink during a staredown. Apparently she got jumped by 2 girls and 1 guy to which she showed me her scraped shoulders and bruised forehead. Seriously she looked like the end result of cracking rascist jokes in Harlem. 


1:40 AM: MassTrick and her friends rolled out.


1:45 AM: Me and 187 start telling all the drunken customers who can handle their liquor about as well Haiti can handle an eartquake to close their tabs. The other bouncers wait for permission from the bartenders to kick everyone out.


1:56 AM: This one tall FratDouche won't leave even as FatOwner and his peons attempt to push him out the door. I decide that I'll be a nice guy by grabbing ahold of the guy and directing him towards the gate even as he is dropping F-bombs like he is Samuel L. Jackson in order help out.




What the fuck? I felt something hit me in the head from my blindside. I suddenly realize that whatever hit my head felt consistent with getting hit bare knuck.




I look around for that little frat fucker who threw tne sucker punch and see some dude that looks like Vic Mackey from The Shield pulling his fast back. Target Acquired.




I caught him square on the chin but unfortanetly I couldn't get my hip and shoulder as into it as I would have liked due the a couple of guys stuck in between me and him. If it wasn't that then it would have been a one hitta quitta. However, it still rocked him pretty well on top ROYALLY pissing of his other frat buddies who tried coming at me as all of FatOwners as the bouncers slammed the gate on them. The still tried to reach at me through the gate like it was episode of The Walking Dead minus zombies plus frat douches. I was tempted to charge them like Leonidas but realized the odds would have been 5 to 1 in their favor. I'm crazy, not Johnny Knocksville from Jackass. It was like when Ron White talks about being thrown out of a bar in New York City and the bouncers squared up with him, "I don't know how many of them it would have taken to kick my ass, but I knew how many they were planning to use." Reverse the roles of douche bag bouncers with douchebag frat boys and Ron White with me bouncing. You get the idea.


The employees started getting all nervous that they would come through the back door so they locked the back door as well. Good idea.


2:05 AM: After Frat Pack finally figured out that they werent going to get past the gates to commence Operation: Assault-a-Ginger they resorted back to where they came from (more than likely some dumb sorostitutes fox hole while chugging shitty keg beer). I atleast remember the Vic Mackey looking dude's face so when I run into him I can talk him into throwing the first punch so that I royally (and legally) fuckstart his face.


2:08 AM: Since I didn't hit him right my hand was a little sore so I grabbed a bag and filled it with ice for my hand.


2:10 AM: I go up to FatOwner and talk to him about getting paid. He says to go talk to the owner McDouche.


2:12 AM: I find McDouche outside by the front patio and talk to him about getting paid.


Frank: "So the pay is $100 a piece for me and my guy (187)"


McDouche: (in his thick Irish accent) "Well the pay is $90"


Frank: "Ummm no CadetBouncer told is $100 a piece."


McDouche: "Well you worked from 8-2 so the pay is $90."


Frank: " Ummm no I agreed on $100 so I need $100 for me and my guy."


McDouche: (getting visibly aggravated that I won't bow to his stupid spud choking ass) "Well if that is how you are going to be then you won"t work here again."


Frank: "I don't give a fuck if I don't work here again. Go get my fucking money."


McDouche got all pissed off like a collection agency representative after realizing that their attempts at intimidating a ginger are futile. I walk back inside and thats when McCunt wants to put her two cents in.


McCunt: "You shouldn't have it that guy."


Frank: "He hit me first."


McCunt: "I don't care, you're a bouncer and suppose to get hit. You shouldn't have hit him."


Yea she really said that. I don't know if it was all the bullshit I had to deal with from all my years bouncing at IrishfratBar. I don't know if was the fact that at this point I had been awake for two days on three hours of sleep. I don't if it was just how retarded and ignorant all these mic bastards were treating me or the fact that I had been sucker punched which amazingly was a first for me but whatever it was it inititiated a full on Ginger Meltdown and there was about to be some Ginger-on-Ginger crime up in this bitch.


Frank: "Ummm did you not hear the part where I said he hit me first you dumb bitch? Why don't I punch you in the face and see how well you take it."


McCunt: (face getting visbily redder than her hair) "What did you call me?"


Frank: "I called you a dumb bitch you dumb bitch."


What happens when you put an Irish Lassie that is about as attractive to my dick as a fire ant mound in her place? Yep you guessed it, a full on Ginger Meltdown on her part. All the full time employees freaked the fuck out like I just explained to them how the potato famine was so stupid since they live on a island surrouned by water which has like fish and other sources of nourishment in it. Then again I'm an American and have easy access to meat so I don't have rely on Guinness and chain smoking to keep on trucking.


2:20 AM: McCunt starts telling me I need to leave and I inform her that I'm not leaving until I get paid in full. They get more insistant on me leaving so I start reasserting my stance while using my new favorite term for douchebah employers who take adavantage of the fact that South Carolina is a "right to hire" state in the for of "labor board". This obviously scared them as they called on the bouncers to make me leave. Usually I would stand on my ground but the odds were only slightly more in my favor in the form of 4-1. I decide that it might be a good idea if I step outside.


2:35 AM: I step outside by the backdoor but I don't walk off the property. I'm not doing that till I get paid. CadetBouncer told me that they would try to fuck me when he stopped by (great timing by the way ;-/).


2:36 AM: McCunt steps out and starts cussing me out while telling me to leave like the slutty green leprachaun that she is.


2:37 AM: 187 comes out saying that he has the money.


Frank: "Did the give you $200."


187: "Yep."


Frank: (Turning around to look at McCunt while throwing the bag of ice that is was using on my hand "B-Rabbit dropping the mic and rolling out"-style) "LATER YOU DUMB CUNT."


Game. Set. Match McCunt. I owned her paddy ass like the S.A.S. (Great Britain's Special Forces equivalent of the Navy Seals) would handle the I.R.A. I didn't even look back. Just walked off like I was personifying the lyrics from a David Banner joint.


3:00 AM: After walking back to the parking garage to get 187's Dodge along with his girlfriend and her friend we try figure out how to back out and pull of a 3-point turn in the parking garage since it's more packed than an African Slave Ship.


3:02 AM: Success.....


3:04 AM: 187 drops me back off by the gym and head in to plug my phone into my charger since it is about to be deader than John F. Kennedy. Im starving so I decide that a pulled pork bbq pita from Pita Pit will do the trick.


3:10 AM: I walk by this bar called Boone's and see BigG inside cleaning up. I knock on the glass until he opens up so I can tell him about how awesome my St. Patty's was.


3:15 AM: I walk up to the door at Pita Pit and its locked but the blonde working there realizes that im not some drunk douchey frat boy. She lets me in.


3:23 AM: While waiting in line I see this old black dude standing by the desk with a cowboy hat. I start shooting the shit with him because as we all know there is nothing more mystical than old black man. Kind of like Samuel L. Jackson from the Star Wars movies only if he hadn't been killed off and lived on to help Obi-Wan Kenobi to teach Luke Skywalker the ways of the force while being played by Morgan Freeman. WHY GEORGE LUCAS? WHY? Maybe it would have to be Richard Roundtree since he was more famous in the 70's. Seriously how awesome would Shaft be with a light saber?


       I tell him about my St. Patty's and he already has a shocked by the time I tell him about railing SicilianChick on the roof top. You know your life is awesome when you can shock a mystical old black man. Old white man would just shake their head and give me looks of condescension. Fuck dem haterz. I could care less about how far you walked in the snow in July to buy fireworks.


3:30 AM: I am out the door with my Pita. I am content.


3:31 AM: I walk by some YOUNG looking dudes. I notice blood streaking down his back as I walk back. Since even an asshole like me does have some compassion I ask him what happened. They tell me some dude sucker punched him and that the back of his head hit the sidewalk on the way down. Having recently been sucker punched myself on top of my experience with concussions I realize this could be serious. Head injuries are no joke. My assertion is further re-enforced as I notice the blood splatter on the walk way of this store.


3:35 AM: I walk into this pizza place called Gilroy's and get a bag of ice for CharlotteKid's head.


3:37 AM: I walk back out to CharlotteKid and place ice on the back of his head while convincing him the he needs to go to the hospital.


3:45 AM: CharlotteKid's sister pulls up and they assure me that they will go to the hospital as they hop in her car to drive off.


3:50 AM: I walk into the gym to check the charge on my phone as I consume the awesomness of the pulled pork bbq combining with the pickles, barbeque sauce, and cheddar is off the hook. Or maybe that's just the sleep deprevation.


4:05 AM: I grab my back pack and head home. I've had enough Irish for one day.



      I think I might have pushed the limits of Gingerism on our races greatest day. Lets do a quick check to see. Feel free to compare yours to mine. You might have outdone me. I don't really care. Just saying this one should definitely stack up there:


1. Hooked up with SicilianChick on a roof top.

2. Had a walk of shame in a gym that turned into a conversation on quantum physics, black holes, and the nature of existence.

3. Slept for 3 hours.

4. Worked a full shift.

5. Got a full workout in.

6. Poured a constant stream of alcohol down my throat for 6 hours not counting the drinking I did that morning and that night at Molly Darcy's.

7. Shot the shit with cool and interesting people that definitely expanded my horizons.

8. Got sucker punched and upon punching the guy back nearly started a brawl that pissed off a bunch of frat douches.

9. Put a couple dirty mic's in their places for trying to fuck me over on my pay on top of trying to treat like a 6 year old kid in a Chinese sweat shop.

10. Still got paid in full while pissing in McCunt's lucky charms.

11. Potentially helped to save CharlotteKid's life.

12. Pulled Pork BBQ Pit from Pita Pit. Yummy.


Bricktop was right. Nemesis is an 'orrible cunt. Especially when its a Ginger like me.







































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