Monthly Archives: September 2011

Bagging Up – Pilot

Posted by Peter Teixeira on

This is the pilot episode for my new series. Like all other pilots, if the story is not well received I will stop writing and go back to the drawing board. (Your feedback will be the determining factor!)

This story will follow six friends, all in their early thirties. The focus will be on their relationships with the opposite sex. Instead of providing a detailed character profile of each guy, I will only give some basic information. The details of each character’s life will be revealed throughout the events.

I decided to name the characters after Jesus’ Apostles. Don’t be offended; it could have been worse. I honestly thought about having Jesus return to earth and live with a group of single guys. They would have abused his miraculous powers to do as they pleased! Who knows, maybe that story will happen in the future. (If someone reads this and steals the idea about Jesus and his new “Apostles,” the least you can do is give me a shout out!)

The guys will meet every Sunday to watch football. Each person brings a 12-pack of beer and last man to arrive is penalized. No one has a favorite NFL team, so there will be little or no mention of the actual games. The story takes place in Boston, but the guys are from different cities! There will be some college football talk since the men are loyal fans of their respective schools. The series will contain actual results, so the games on Saturdays should help to shape the story.

The Characters:

  1. Judas is a single personal trainer. Team: The University of Miami Hurricanes.
  2. Matthias is a married attorney. Team: The Notre Dame Fighting Irish.
  3. James is a single drug dealer. Team: The University of Southern California (USC) Trojans.
  4. Simon manages a bank and is in a relationship. Team: The University of Michigan Wolverines
  5. Philip is a single high school teacher. Team: Florida State University Seminoles.
  6. Bartholomew is a single accountant. Team: The University of Florida Gators.

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EPISODE 1:    

INT. James’ basement

James turned his basement into a mini sports bar. Memorabilia adorns the walls and there are two 50″ televisions hoisted on the wall. One TV shows the Red Zone channel and the other is used to flip to the most interesting game. The room has two leather sofas, a matching lay-z-boy and several bar stools. There is also a bar with a fridge.

Door bell rings.

Simon

Finally! Matt is always last.

James walks to the window and looks out.

James

You know the drill!

Matthias shakes his head.

Matthias

Again? This is bullshit!

James

Notre Dame sucks!

He closes the window and returns to his seat.

James

I have to give it to you, Bart; this is the greatest idea you ever came up with.

Bartholomew

I knew he would be last every week. Sucks to be him.

Judas

It’s perfect since he’s so cheap.

The room filled with laughter. Several minutes later, the bell sounds again. James opens the door.

Matthias

Here, jackass.

He hands over a bottle of Black Label.

James

Thank you my good man. Don’t be mad at us; you’re the idiot who got married.

Matthias

Being married has nothing to do with me being the last person to arrive. Why do you guys always bring up my marriage. By the way, how did USC do last week?

James

ND wins one game and the guy gets cocky. Don’t forget we’re going to South Bend and kicking ass next month.

Bartholomew

Listening to a USC fan and a Notre Dame fan argue about who sucks more never gets old.

Philip

Roll Tide!

Bartholomew

SOONER or later, you’re going to have to realize that FSU sucks.

Simon

Damn, that’s right. The Sooners spanked FSU last week.

Philip

Who asked you?

Simon

I can talk; we’re still undefeated.

Bartholomew

Damn, someone has been mighty quiet. It’s almost as if Judas was attacked by a wildcat!

Simon

The U.

Judas points to Simon.

Judas

F U.

He then points to Bartholomew.

Judas

And U.

They hi-five and laugh.

Bartholomew

Miami sucks!

James

Yo, the first games are on.

Everyone takes a seat.

Bartholomew

Hey Toby, let me get a cup of that Black Label.

Everyone looks around. James doesn’t say a word; he simply gets up and begins to pour a glass of whiskey.

Simon

I guess I’ll take one too. Toby?

James grabs a second glass.

Bartholomew

No. Just mine will be fine.

James

Ok!

Matthias

What the hell is going on? Why are you getting him a drink? And why is he calling you Toby?

Bartholomew

Let me introduce everyone to my new drink butler.

He motions to James.

Simon

What?

Bartholomew

This idiot made a bet with me. He thought the Gators would lose before his Trojans. Thank you Arizona State…never make a deal with a Sun Devil!

The guys can’t stop laughing.

Bartholomew

I told  him I was going to call him Toby!

Philip

Like Roots?

Bartholomew

Yeah!

They continue to laugh.

Judas

How long does he have to get you drinks?

Bartholomew

Just this week. I can’t believe he thought USC was going undefeated.

James walks over and hands Bartholomew a drink.

James

Here you go. Roll Tide.

Bartholomew

You guys can Roll Tide all you want, but we’re going to destroy Alabama on Saturday.

Simon

I’ll take that bet.

Bartholomew

Ok, you’re on. Gators win, you’re my new Toby.

Simon

Gators over Bama; You’re crazy.

Philip

Hey Judas, speaking of crazy, what happened with that chick from the bar? She seemed a little nuts.

Matthias

What chick?

Judas

On Friday, the Free-Four went to the bar. And I met the craziest broad ever.

Simon

What the hell is a Free-Four?

Judas

The four of us who are free and not whipped.

Simon

Whipped? Matt definitely, but me? You’re crazy; I gets it in!

Judas

Then why didn’t you come with us?

Simon

You know Friday is date night with my girl.

James

Date night with your girl? Sounds like whipped to me.

Simon

You’re talking? The only reason you’re not whipped is because the girls you date can’t walk into an adult shop and buy whips; they’re too young.

The guys laugh.

James

Don’t hate because you can’t bag a pretty young thing.

Simon

Pretty young is right. Didn’t I see some girl run out of here this morning all scared and shit; screaming that her mom was going to kill her if she didn’t make it to Sunday school on time?

Everyone laughs.

James

She was 23, jerk!

Matthias

I don’t know how you meet so many young girls.

Simon

I’ll tell you how. It’s that BMW 750 of his. Those 21″ rims attract twenty-two year old chicks like being an American attracts women in a third world country.

The guys laugh.

Matthias

I hope you’re strapping up at least.

James

Of course!

Judas

Yeah right, he’s paid for at least five abortions this year alone. His motto is, getting a whore pregnant is like a mission gone bad…ABORT!

The guys laugh.

James

Why are we focused on me? Get back to the crazy chick.

Judas

I’m on the dance floor with this chick and she was being real nasty; we were basically having sex with clothes on.

Philip

Real talk. They were on some softcore porn shit.

Judas

Funny you should say that.

Judas shakes his head then continues.

Judas

I went back to this crazy bitch’s house and you’ll never believe what happened.

Philip

Her grandmother came in the room and joined in?

Judas

No! you’re sick. That would be like banging a corpse.

Philip

You said crazy! Besides, I thought you were into necrophilia?

The guys laugh.

Bartholomew

He’s not lying. That one chick you bagged was old as shit; she wasn’t a cougar. She was a white tiger.

Judas

How do you figure a white tiger is older than a cougar?

Bartholomew

All that white hair, dumbass!

Everyone laughs.

Judas

You’re an idiot. Back to the story. I’m sitting on her bed and she got on top of me. We started to make out for a little bit and she slowly undressed. We got completely naked and she started to move towards Sebastian.

Bartholomew

Hold on a second. You named your dick after the Hurricanes’ mascot?

Judas

Yeah, why not. When I bang these chicks out it’s like a hurricane hit!

The room erupts with laughter.

Bartholomew

And he has the nerve to call the chick crazy!

Judas

Wait until you hear the story; she was nuts. Where was I? Yeah, she was down by Sebastian, but she wasn’t doing anything. She was simulating giving me a blowjob. I asked her what the hell she was doing and she said, “I’m into softcore porn.”

James

What? You’re kidding, right?

Judas

I’m dead serious. She got up and said, “maybe this will turn you on.” She gets on top of me and fakes like she’s riding me. After a few seconds, I stopped her and asked her if she was crazy. She said, “I want to save myself for the guy I love, but I like to fool around.” Long story short, ,I got the hell out of there.

Philip

That sucks. The chick was way too hot to be crazy. Damn shame.

Bartholomew

You should get her number, Phil; she sounds like the perfect girl for you.

James

Yeah, the two of you can fake having sex all night.

Everyone laughs except for Philip.

Philip

Real funny. You know I get mine.

James

No. That’s the point; we don’t know. All of your stories never end with any actual sex taking place.

Philip

I don’t have to prove anything to you. Just because I don’t commit statutory rape on a daily basis doesn’t mean I’m not getting any. Aren’t you leaving soon; don’t you have a sweet sixteen to go to?

The guys laugh.

Bartholomew

Hey Toby, another glass of the good stuff.

Judas

Hey can you get him to make one for me?

Bartholomew

Tell me another one of your stories, and if I feel entertained, I will allow him to get you a glass.

Judas

That’s fair. You remember Katie right?

Batholomew

Yeah, she was with you for a minute.

Philip

Yeah, I thought she was the one.

James

Speaking of the one; when are you going to smash your first one?

The guys all laugh but Philip. James hands Bartholomew a glass of whiskey.

Judas

Well, I didn’t even know her name until a month after we met.

Matthias

You went an entire month without knowing her name?

Judas

Yeah, it was crazy.

Bartholomew

What? How did you pull that off.

Judas

When I first met  her, I was all about smashing and never paid attention to her name. The second time I saw her, I asked if she had any nicknames as a child. She said that her friends only called her “K.” I didn’t know if her name was Katherine, Kim, or whatever. I told her since we were trying to be friends first, I’ll call her K. She ate that shit up. She actually thought that I was a great guy who was trying to get to know her. Well, I got to know how naive she was!

Bartholomew

Toby, bring this gentleman a glass of your finest whiskey.

Judas

Thanks, I thought you’d like that.

Simon

I hope you’re taking notes. You’ll be the one fetching drinks on Sunday.

Bartholomew

We’ll see; GO GATORS!

James hands Judas a glass of Black Label.

Judas

Thanks you sir. She said that she couldn’t sleep with someone until she fell in love. Which she said takes at least a year to be sure. I indulged her and kept her around. I always made excuses abouthaving to train clients whenever I wanted to avoid her, so it was cool.

Matthias

You made that girl believe she was in a relationship for a year?

Judas

Yeah, she brought it upon herself. I was perfectly content to bang her and then send her on her merry way. Why do you care anyway.

Matthias

You’re a complete jerk. I would never let my daughter any where near a guy like you.

Judas

You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t go after my friends sloppy seconds and we all know that James is going to smash your daughter in a few years.

Everyone laughs except for Matthias, who gives James a stern look.

James

Why are you looking at me? He said it.

Judas

A year after I met her, she started talking about our anniversary. I decided to get her flowers and we went out to dinner. As a surprise, she led me to a hotel room and I smashed it all night. It was cool, but nothing spectacular. After we were done, I gave her the surprise of her life.

Philip

Let me guess, herpes?

Judas

We all know you aren’t giving anyone herpes.

The guys laugh at Philip.

Judas

I told her that I didn’t feel a connection and I wanted to end things. She was crushed because she believed in true love, but I tried to tell her that I was all about sex. She started crying so I had to get the hell out of there. I said, good luck with the true love thing and bounced.

Bartholomew

That’s crazy. You’re going to have a stalker on your hands. That’s why I tell them the truth from jump; ain’t no boyfriend or love here.

Matthias

I don’t know how you sleep at night, Judas.

Judas

Bart smashes the same amount of chicks as me, but you never give him any shit.

Matthias

That’s because he doesn’t lie. For some reason, he tells the girls that he doesn’t want a commitment and they still sleep with him. He’s a lucky bastard.

Bartholomew

Tell him Matt, lying is wrong.

Judas

Matt lies. How do you think he was able to come here today; His wife thinks he’s reading law books at the library.

Matthias

I don’t have to lie to my wife. I go where I want and I get sex without having to trick her.

Bartholomew

You can get sex without getting married, too.

Matthias

You guys have no idea what you are talking about. I love my wife, and once you meet the right girl, you’ll understand.

James

What are you talking about? Every time I have one of my girls over here, you can’t stop staring at them.

Matthias

I can always look without touching.

Judas

Someone needs to tell that rule to Simon. He seems to have it backwards; he touches without even looking.

The room erupts with laughter.

Philip

Hey Simon, don’t you ever worry that your girl will start to cheat on you too?

Simon

Nope! I have a good girl.

Judas

I fucked a good girl once. It was…GOOD!

Everyone laughs.

James

How about you Phil; any new adventures.

Philip

I actually met this hot girl the other day.

Judas

Here we go. I can’t wait to hear this one.

Everyone laughs but Philip.

Philip

Like I was saying.I gave one of my students a ride home a couple weeks ago. He lived in an apartment building and I helped him with his heavy gym bag.

James

You fucked one of your students?

Philip

No, asshole! If you let me talk, I will tell the story.

James motions as if he is zipping up his lips.

Philip

As I was walking out of the building, a hot chick was approaching the door with two grocery bags. I asked if she wanted help and she was said, “sure.” I grabbed the bags and she called me a gentleman. Inside her apartment, she attempted to give me a twenty, but I let her know that her money was no good. She said she had to repay me somehow and asked me to stay for dinner.

Matthias

How was her cooking?

Judas

Are you kidding me? That’s what you want to know?

Bartholomew

Give him a break, he’s married.

Philip

Her cooking was pretty good.

Matthias gives Judas a taunting stare.

Philip

We finished the meal and she asked if I wanted to have some dessert while we watched some TV. I said yes and she made a fruit salad.

Judas

How appropriate. A fruit salad for the fruit!

The guys all laughed except for Philip.

Philip

Are you done?

Judas

You may continue.

Philip

Everything was going great until I noticed an opened condom wrapper in the bathroom garbage. This chick was an obvious slut. I had to make a quick decision; it was either ST-Do or ST-Don’t. I told her I had some papers to grade and got the hell out of there.

Matthias

ST-Do or ST-Don’t; that’s hilarious.

Judas

So you mean to tell me that you were in the chicks apartment, she was good to go and about that action, and you left?

James

C’mon Phil; what the hell were you thinking?

Philip

Sorry Judas, just because you don’t care about diseases doesn’t mean we’re alike. And James, you wouldn’t have liked her, she was way to old for you.

Judas

Classic Phil.

James

How big were her feet? did she have small feet?

Philip

Yeah, she had small girlie feet. What does that have to do with anything?

James

Damn, you fucked up. I’m working on a new theory. The size of a women’s feet is a direct correlation to the size of her vagina; big feet, big box. She had small feet Phil; you missed out!

Bartholomew

Dude, you’re the biggest idiot I have ever met.

James

I didn’t say it was an exact science. I said I was working on it. I still need a larger sample size. From now on, I want you guys to tell me about every chick you smash.

Bartholomew

Ok, I’ll try and remember. What a dumbass!

James

Hey Matt, how big are your wife’s feet?

Matthias

You’re an asshole!

James

What, you can’t take a joke?

Matthias

Damn, it’s already 8. I have to get going.

Judas motions as if he has a whip in his hand.

Judas

Whipish!

Bartholomew

Alright my man. ND sucks!

Matthias

Roll Tide! I’ll see you guys later.

Judas

If I ever get married, kill me!

Matthias

If my wife knew James sold drugs, I would be the one being killed. But,I’ll be sure to remember your comment in case you get married.

Simon

Don’t be late next week. Michigan will be the lone undefeated team!

He exits.

Bartholomew

I can’t wait for the new Toby!

Judas

You’re dumb.

They all laugh.

[It’s A Wrap!]

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I look forward to some feedback!

@PeteTeix617

 

Read Episode 2

About these ads

“Prom” Night

Posted by Peter Teixeira on

Today’s post was actually written about a decade ago. I originally had AOL in the late 90’s. There were many great e-mails which I lost after deactivating my account in 2002. It didn’t make any sense to continue with AOL when yahoo and other sites offered free e-mail. In 2005, AOL decided to reactivate everyone’s account for free. Great news, except for the fact that all of my previous e-mails where lost forever. Thankfully, I printed out this e-mail and I recently found the copy. (Enjoy!)

Key information:

  1. I never watched Star Trek, but somehow I knew about the Captain’s Log. (I’m sure it was a great show!)
  2. I often sent Captain’s Log e-mails to friends. (I’ll try my best to recover some more.)
  3. I never went to the prom. I understand that many people feel the prom is a great event, but I never cared to go; to me, proms were corny. (I turned down offers to go but for your enjoyment I will say that, after hundreds of hours of begging and love {stalker} letter writing and crush pronouncements, I was unable to get a date!)
  4. The word ugly is used several times, but describing someone as ugly is futile; beauty is subjective. (I honestly don’t remember most of the participants in the story and ugly was used for comedic purposes.)
  5. Slobber is the nickname of a friend of mine. (I don’t recall the reference to the Cancun incident; I wasn’t there.)
  6. I use NO NAMES for the girl’s name, and I honestly forgot her real name.
  7. I did not edit the story. (I split the document into smaller paragraphs for easier reading, because it was originally sent as one large paragraph through e-mail; I also added italics to the original document.)
  8. I love typing, but I really hate typing up a copy of an existing document. I could never be a secretary! (I wanted to make changes, but I like the fact that this is a glimpse into the past.)
  9. I took a picture of the original document. (Posted Below.)

 

 

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CAPTAIN’S LOG: ENTRY 3452764

THE FORMAL:

     It was early April a.k.a. the greatest month. I was walking through the cafeteria just coming back from a dreadful math class. As I reached the end of the caf I saw a friend of mine sitting at the last table. I went over to say what up. He returned the what up with a what up of his own and we gave each other dap. He said to me, “yo I was looking for you” I replied, “why” he said “this girl wanted me to ask you if you would go to a formal with her.” I replied, “who” and he said, “she lives on the first floor in the dorm and her name is NO NAMES.” I said “who.” And he said “don’t you know her,” and I replied “no.” Then he said the dreadful words, “don’t worry she is not ugly.”

     [I’m sorry I have to take a break in the story to say “I wonder if any of the Portland Trailblazers ask Rasheed Wallace if they can use his shampoo, knowing that he has ringworms in his head and he doesn’t wash his hair.” The reason I was wondering this is because I am watching the Blazers Sun’s game and it just popped into my head.]

     I automatically thought to myself “sure she isn’t ugly, and the crew doesn’t have a snitch.” I expressed to him that when a person says, “she isn’t ugly” the girl is usually very ugly. He convinced me (but I was still a little shook) that she wasn’t ugly.

     ***I met her and she was the best looking thing I have ever seen.***

     Now back from dream world. I told him to introduce us, hoping that he wasn’t lying and that she might be good looking. I am kicking myself for not just saying no. (ouch, ouch, awe shit, ouch, fuck, damn, motherfucker. I can really kick hard) I then leave the caf and go to my room. Later on that day I meet with Q and he is trying to tell me that I know the girl but I don’t know who he is talking about. Q is not going rip a chick because he is religious so he didn’t say she was broke.

     [I know that the foreshadowing is leading you to believe that this girl is going to be butt ugly but don’t be too quick to assume.]

     I am in Q’s room and we are playing homerun derby along with this other kid and we are talking mad shit, and it was mad fun and it was my first time playing on Playstation, because usually I play on Saturn, but nevertheless I am kicking ass. (and we all know I can kick) A knock comes to the door, and it is Mike, the kid from the caf. He tells me to come to his room because the girl is on the phone. I talk to her and she says, “describe yourself because I don’t know who you are.” I was thinking to myself, “does this girl think I am stupid or something, she asks me to do this thing and then tries to front like she doesn’t know who I am.” So I just say that we will meet in Mike’s room the following day.

     The next day I am in my room watching TV when someone knocks on my door. It is Mike, he says that she is in his room and that I should go up and meet her. I get to the room and there are like five girls in there. I see a girl that could be the girl Q was trying to describe to me and I am hoping to myself that I am dead wrong. Then as I look around the room I am hoping that Mike led me to the wrong room and that this girl is banging and not one of these girls.

     Then it happened, Mike walked over to this girl that Q was describing and said “this is NO NAMES.” I had two reactions. The first reaction was the surface reaction. I walked over said hi and al eyes and ears were focused on me as she asked me to go to this thing. I remembered that on the phone she said, “we can just go together because it is cheaper for couples, and it is better that just going and paying for one person when we can save money by paying together.”

     I would never have gone but Q was going and mad bitches were going to be single so I could still have fun, so I said, “sure we can go together.” The second reaction was internally. I was thinking to myself, “why the hell did I take a chance and think this dude was telling the truth when he said she wasn’t ugly.” I also was thinking, “fuck shit bitch motherfucker what the fuck bastard fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” I wanted to kick myself in the head, kick Mike in the head, and kick her in the head. 

     I couldn’t believe I was saying I would go. I hate these things and now I am going to one with an out-of-state member of the four-horsemen. (For those who are not familiar with the four-horsemen, they are butt ugly chicks that graced the hallways of Boston Latin School, and ruined my appetite every day.) I realized that it wouldn’t be that bad. There would be a lot of people there and I wouldn’t really have to be around this chick. I thought it was a party type thing, where you go in and then just everyone starts dancing. I left this room with mixed feelings.

     On the one hand I had to go to this thing with a farm animal, but on the other hand it could be fun because our school parties usually are. I don’t see this chick and don’t want to see her for the rest of the time. It is now Tuesday, and this thing is on Friday. We were in the caf talking about this thing and another girl was telling me about this event. She said “what are you wearing,” my reply was “Tims and jeans.” Then I told her I was just wearing khakis and a Polo shirt, and a tie with some shoes. She asked me why I wasn’t wearing a suit, and I said “cause I think I am dressing up enough, and that my suits were in Boston anyway.” She said that I should wear a suit and that everyone will have a suit on. She said that she talked to the thing I was going with and that she is wearing a prom dress. I was like what the fuck. Then I hear that there are pictures involved, that we are going to sit down to dinner, and all this other shit. I was like damn, I thought it was a fucking party. Then I call this girl up and tell her that my suit was in Boston and that, I was just wearing casual gear, hoping that she would say “I think you shouldn’t go because it is supposed to be formal wear.” Of course my luck sucks so she says “that’s ok.” And I was thinking, “Urrgh, fuck.”

     So my friend wanted to go so I told him to go with her instead of me because I don’t have a suit. He said “na I think you should go with her because she asked you and that would be kind of dirty.” I translated his comment as “hell no.” I told the girl that was there, I was going to call NO NAMES and say, “sorry but I don’t want to go anymore, because I didn’t know it was going to be all this bullshit.” She said for me not to do that because it would be dirty so I should go.

     The morning of this event I was sleeping when a knock comes to my door, and it is Mike. He asks for my number so he can give it to her. She calls and asks me where should we meet, hoping I would say “I will come to your room and pick you up.” So of course I replied “We can just meet in the lobby.” I am trying to make this a definite no date atmosphere. I get off the phone and try to fall back to sleep when, the phone rings again. This time it is her friend.

     She tries to front like she is calling to find out where everyone is meeting. She is another out-of-state member of the four-horsemen. She’s going with Mike. [Mike doesn’t want to go with her but she said that he is her friend and that she knows he will take her because it’s her birthday.] She first asks me if I talked to Mike about where we are going to meet, then when I say “no, I am meeting NO NAMES in the lobby,” she says, “you are meeting in the lobby, why don’t you come to her room and meet there.” I say “sure why not,” then she says “I will see NO NAMES later and tell her you will meet her in her room instead of the lobby.” I was like “does this girl think I am stupid or something,” like I didn’t know she was in NO NAMES’s room and that they were trying to make this a date.

     I go to her room when it was time to leave and she isn’t ready. So I am in the lounge waiting for her to come out. I am fucking watching the Yankees game in a suit, and people are walking by asking why the hell am I dressed up to watch a Yankees game. She finally comes and she is with this friend. Now I wasn’t worried because Mike was at the table and we would just chill, but Mike is nowhere in sight. We get to the door and we meet two more of her friends. We sit at the table and there is no Mike. I am sitting at this table on this Friday night with four out-of-state members of the four-horsemen. Thinking to myself, “self how the hell did this happen to you.”

     A few minutes go by and two more horsemen show up. Now the count is six. I am fucking vexed, I can’t believe Mike isn’t here. It turns out that it wasn’t a real formal. It was some award banquet for black seniors. So not only did I have to sit at this table with these horsemen and eat dinner without throwing up but I had to sit through an award ceremony. The thing was run by hood people, so it didn’t start at 7:30, it started at 9:00. Come to find out that Mike is sitting with some people on the other side of the room. I wanted to kill that dude.

     ***WE INTERUPT THIS CAPTAIN’S LOG TO BRING YOU THE FEEL SORRY PORTION OF THE PROGRAM*** I feel sorry for myself for being put through this hell. And I will not get over it. I feel sorry for slobber because he couldn’t get it up in Cancun, but realizing that this incident will bring so many new jokes to my mind I got over it. ***NOW BACK TO YOUR CAPTAIN’S LOG***

     So I am sitting there hoping the uni-bomber will have a surprise for us, but no such luck. Yo they were sitting there talking and they were all trying to get me to make this a date, but I wasn’t having it. I was bored and I was showing it. Everything she asked I would give a one word answer so there would not be any conversation. Finally hell is over and I am chilling with Q and the same kid we were playing homerun derby with. The kid says “how long are you staying” and I said “I’m ‘bout to be out.” They didn’t believe me. The music starts and the girl comes over to me and asks me to dance. It was reggae so I got my thinking on.

     All these dudes were freaking these chicks and when we got on the floor I was just dancing next to her instead of all up on her. Basically if you saw us you would have thought that we were just two people dancing next to each other. There was no way I was freaking her. NO WAY. She figured out that I wasn’t going to make any effort to dance with her so she said “if you don’t want to dance you can go back to your friends,” hoping I would say “no I want to dance.” Guess what my reply was??? I said “I’m about to leave, I’m going to my room, bye.”

     Then I went to Q, we chilled for a second, then I gave him dap and bounced. I was so vexed because earlier mad heads were talking about going to the gym and I wanted to go but I had to go to this bullshit. The thing ended at 4:00am and I left at 10:45 just in time to catch the 11:00 Seinfeld episode. That was the best part of this formal.

     Thank God my night was saved when my roommates for next year came by and tried to lean a trash can against my door then knocking on it hoping that when I opened it all the trash would spill into my room. But it didn’t work because I had a feeling they were up to something and opened the door mad slow and stopped the trash from falling. Then we dirtied the hell out of the hall with chips, then we went around to all the rooms looking for people who were drunk and we were messing with them until like six in the morning. All this helped me forget the formal. I will never believe another person when they say “she isn’t ugly.” I hope that you can learn from my mistake!!!       <THE END>

 

ORIGINAL DOCUMENT

     This story may cause people to think that I am an asshole; I would never dispute that claim! I honestly feel that I was suckered into participating in this tale, but I can only blame myself. I hope the story was entertaining.

ANY QUESTIONS?

@PeteTeix617

You Think You Procrastinate

Posted by Peter Teixeira on

For me, procrastination is not a character flaw which I have to work on; it’s a way life. I am so accustomed to waiting until the last possible moment, I don’t ever worry anymore. I just know that I will complete the task. I am currently writing this post about two hours later than I usually begin. (Big surprise!)

Let me be honest. This is usually the time I start writing. When I first started this blog, I would write the entries one day ahead of time, and then make an edit before posting. The time table shortened and I started writing in the early evening, and then making an edit before posting. Now, I begin writing late at night, and then make an edit right before posting. (This procrastination beast will be with me for the rest of my life!)

Like everyone else, I will blame my level of procrastination on an outside source. I procrastinate because I learned the habit at Boston Latin School. I always waited until the last minute to write papers and I learned that I worked well under pressure. I guess the fact that I don’t have time to fool around forces me to focus on the task at hand; I have procrastinated ever since.

One of my favorite results from the “bad” habit happened at Seton Hall University. Prior to my freshman year, I waited until the last minute to hand in my housing application. On the last day, I rushed to send out the form and forgot something rather important; I didn’t include the two hundred and fifty dollar check. I attended Orientation and everything seemed fine. On move-in day, I arrived on campus and reported the housing office to retrieve my key and student ID.

The ID was handed to me, but there was no key; I didn’t have a room. I know what you’re thinking; procrastination finally caught up with me. (Not a chance!) I was told to leave a phone number and they would call with a solution. (I wasn’t worried because the worst that could have happened was I’d miss a semester!)

The phone rang and I received some wonderful news. The only available room was a single. (I couldn’t believe my luck!) “There is a problem!” The woman informed me. “The room is located in the middle of the women’s wing; will that be a problem?” (Oh the humanity! How will I ever survive?)

Suffice it to say, I spent my first few weeks on campus being hounded by every freshman male; each guy trying to figure out how I pulled off the greatest room assignment in the history of Boland Hall! Thanks to penicillin, the STD is gone. (Kidding!) *WINK*

Moral of the story: My Procrastination gives me positive results! *Not HIV, I hope*

      It’s weird how I get so excited whenever a professor hands out a big assignment. I think up wonderful ideas for how I’ll attack the project, and I plan out a perfect schedule, but a funny thing always seems to happen. My friend procrastination takes control of the situation. I end up putting off the assignment until I have to finish it. (By finish it, I mean begin!)

My worst case of procrastination ended last night, and it was a team effort. Working as a team can be great because each individual will push the other to get the job done. Unless of course, the teammate is a certified procrastinator; good luck tackling a task in this type of collaboration. (The two procrastinations will combine to form an unavoidable super-procrastination!)

I have mentioned my script writing partnership with @Efidalgo12, in the past. We completed our first full length comedy buddy film last night. Usually this would be a cause for celebration, but not in our case. Our procrastination is of epic proportions! In fact, when the Bible is re-written by a future absolute monarch, our story will be included. My name will remain the same, but @Efidalgo12 will be replaced by the apostle John. (The name will be the most appropriate due to his future vice; paying prostitutes for unspeakable sexual favors!)

The story of our script began in 2006, October 5th to be exact. How can I be certain? There is e-mail evidence. Due to the confidentiality agreement, I can’t post the entire e-mail.

Here are some of the key contents:

On 10/5/06, peteteix44@aim.com <peteteix44@aim.com> wrote:

Subject: movie idea

> thought of a new idea for a comedy. A group of friends are hanging out

being assholes to each other…

 

>*** there are too many crazy fucked up shit coming to my head right now for

me to decide on one but I’m sure you get the picture ***…

 

> feedback!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He liked the idea and replied, “NICE, perfect, imma start writing the script, you should too”

Perfect indeed; it only took us five years!

     I don’t want to suggest that we didn’t take the project seriously; we simply continued to put it off. There were several days that we handled business and got some writing done; they were just few and far between. We met at Restaurante Cesaria on multiple occasions over the years, to iron-out character descriptions, plot summary, and other ideas. We actually accomplished a great deal while procrastinating on this project. We each earned our degrees, completed a short film script and shot the movie, among other projects. (Read ‘Co-Produced,’ posted on July 28th, to learn more about the short film!)

Our forthcoming move to Los Angeles lit a fire under our respective glutei maximi, and we moved the script to the top of the priority list. Maybe not the top, but close. We set a deadline to have the script completed by the End of September. Datum Perficiemus Munus (Mission given, mission accomplished!)

We are extremely satisfied with the finished product and we’re excited to begin our next movie script. The idea is ridiculous and the execution will be difficult, but we welcome the challenge. This one should be done before we leave. (We haven’t started yet, but it’s only been a day!)

Procrastination is not the recommended course of action when attempting to accomplish a major task. Plan out your strategy and attack the challenge as soon as possible. Give yourself some time to review your work and make all of the necessary adjustments. I would also suggest finding a helpful friend who can assist you with producing a satisfactory finished product. As for me, I’ll continue to procrastinate!

Do as I say, not as I do!

@PeteTeix617

Bullying & Suicide

Posted by Peter Teixeira on

Let me preface this post by stating a fact. Bullying is wrong and has no place in society.

That being said, bullies will always be present. The key is to teach children how to react to a bully. As long as parents continue to plop their children in front of the boob-tube, kids will learn to become bullies. We live in a cruel society and children are aware of everything that goes on around them. (Note to parents: Stop allowing the TV to raise your children!)

I attended Boston Latin and it seemed as if the school was full of bullies. People just found a way to get with the program. Obviously, bullying shouldn’t exist, but anyone who can make it through adverse situations will be better prepared for the real world. After all, isn’t that what school is all about! (You can’t prevent other children from being bullies, but you can teach your children how to deal with bullying; that’s part of being a parent!)

I honestly consider the “bullying” that occurred in high school as good-natured ribbing, but I can understand the opposing view. At BLS, every class has a will. There are designated pages in the yearbook in which students write random comments. Our will was so bad that it was disallowed. (There were comments about a girl who everyone voted ‘Most likely to become a head master;” nothing unusual about that. Until the faculty learned that she was elected because she performed fellatio on a fellow graduating senior!)

Recently there have been two notable cases in which children have committed suicide “because of bullying.” You have to be kidding me. Bullying is bad, but it doesn’t cause people to kill themselves. I don’t have the exact numbers but if I was going to ballpark-it, I would say that there are 836 million cases of bullying that occur in the world each year. Out of that number, I would say, there are 13 suicides, worldwide. Blaming bullies is simply wrong. (Parents need to take responsibility!)

Bullies should be punished by the school principals and their parents, not the court system. Parents and teachers have to step it up. There are too many kids who persevere through difficult situations, for anyone to blame bullies for suicides. Some children don’t have the parental guidance to help them get through life’s hardships. Many people feel sorry for the children who kill themselves, but I feel sorry for the bullies. They are blamed for the actions of unloved children. (It’s absolutely unfair!)

Parents who go on television and blame other children for the death of their unloved child are out of touch with reality. These are the types of incidents which cause me to be a major proponent of forced abortions. Every occupation in this world requires some form of testing or screening process, but any horny idiot with a willing sex partner can have a child. It’s ridiculous. (People should be screened before we allow them to have children; it’s not right to allow a child to come into this world under adverse situations!)

Adults who commit suicide have only themselves to blame, but child suicide is the cause of bad parenting. If a parent loses his or her child to suicide, there will be many friends and family members who say, “don’t blame yourself.” I say bullshit. Parents should accept full responsibility for adolescent suicides.

It breaks my heart to watch children be vilified for bullying their schoolmates. Making an example of children because they committed acts which were learned from society is wrong. Bullies should be chastised but they are not murderers.

Suicide prevention is simple; involve yourself in your child’s life. Take an active role. Parenting is not like sports; you don’t get credit for trying your best. Be responsible and raise your children the right way. “Who determines the right way?” Let’s start with teaching your children not to kill themselves. Being a parent is a difficult job; many people are not prepared. (We can’t blame others for bad parenting!)

“It’s not fair to blame parents if a depressed child commits suicide.” Are you kidding me? Yes, I agree; parents can’t be blamed if a child has depression, but parents can be blamed for not helping the child get through the low moments. How do you not know that your child is depressed? Get involved. Take the child to a therapist and do whatever it takes to heal the child. (There is nothing that a parent’s love can’t cure!)

There is a clear distinction between adult suicide and child suicide. Children don’t know any better; they have to be taught that their lives have value. Adults are different. I can never feel sorry for an adult who commits suicide. (This is coming from someone whose uncle committed suicide!)

I once took a class called The Anthropology of Death’ in which we watched a documentary about suicide. The name of the film is The Bridge. I actually viewed the documentary before I signed up for the course, because that’s what I do. A filmmaker placed a camera across from the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco and recorded the people who jumped to their deaths. (It’s unbelievable how many people jumped!)

There was even one guy who survived. His story was quite interesting. (Watch the movie!)

The professor asked for our opinions and I said, if I had the power, I would build a ladder for people to climb to the top of the bridge, so they could ensure death. My reasoning was, if you don’t think you deserve to live, who am I to say you should stay alive. I was pulled to the side when the period ended and the professor thought I was just trying to add shock value, but I was clear about my views; some people don’t deserve to live. (I know it’s horrible to say, but I can only speak the truth!)

To me, suicide is a cowardly act. Life has many challenges and suicide is a lame way to leave this realm. We all have difficult moments. There are many children who grow up with horrible parents and they are able to overcome every obstacle and achieve great success. Those are the true heroes!

Kids say mean things, and those children will grow up to be mean adults. Teach your children how to deal with a bully and prepare them for the future. Stop looking for excuses for your bad parenting!

@PeteTeix617

The Sports Effect

Posted by Peter Teixeira on

I can’t imagine a world without sports. There are good days and bad days for sports fans. Yesterday was a great day. The only thing that makes me happier than watching my favorite team win, is watching a hated rival lose. (I honestly think I hate the Patriots more than I like the Broncos!)

***THANK YOU BUFFALO BILLS!!!***

     I am lucky to be surrounded by a bunch of sports fanatics. Every single weekend is filled with text messages, Facebook updates, tweets, e-mails and phone calls. We also meet in person and torture one another. Sports are great, but without other sports-nuts, the victories and losses wouldn’t mean as much! (Thanks to all of the men and women, in my life, who love and support their teams! I truly love you guys!)

If you’re one of those people who believes sports aren’t necessary or “not that serious,” you’re missing out. The victorious highs and crushing lows are can only be understood by a true fan. Don’t be a person who doesn’t have a favorite team. Pick a squad to support and live and die with them. (There is no thrill in jumping from team to team. Fake fans sicken me!)

Being a Denver fan has been great, but a funny thing happened during my trip to the Giants game. (To learn about my history as a Broncos fan, read the post from August 23rd, ‘A Bronco Life.’) Football fans know that my beloved Broncos lost to the New York Football Giants in Super bowl twenty one. It was a horrible day for me, but not big deal; the Broncos have won two Super Bowls since. The loss doesn’t come up anymore, but it’s funny how life unfolds.

Living in Boston, I have never had the desire to attend a Patriots’ game. The thought of being surrounded by sixty thousand screaming New England fans sounds like hell on earth. (I would much rather pay to have unprotected sex with a pro-life crack-whore prostitute and get her pregnant, than step foot inside Gillette Stadium during a Pat’s game!)

I have attended college games and I look forward to living in Gainesville for at least one Gators’ season, but Monday Night was my first NFL game. It was a great experience, which you can read about in September 27th’s post, but there was one part of the festivities that ruined my night. As luck would have it, the Giants’ front office decided to wait until my first game to honor the team from Super Bowl XXI. I had to endure excruciating highlight after excruciating highlight from the game; reliving those painful memories was pure torture. They even had a halftime presentation with all of the Giants’ “greats!” It was almost as if the night’s events were planned to piss me off. (If there is a “god,” he is clearly not happy with me!) *There is no “god!”*

Witnessing your favorite team win a championship can have different effects. The Red Sox won in 2004 and 2007. I love the team but I am content; I can go another decade without a championship. It’s weird, I don’t even hate the Yankees as much as I used to. Don’t get me wrong, I still hate the Yankees. (I’ll always hate the Yankees!)

I am also content with the Denver Broncos. They won back to back Super Bowls and I can always relive the glory days. If they have a few bad years, the franchise has earned it. I believe the great John Elway will construct a winning team. (I guess watching the Patsies choke year after year fulfills my NFL needs!)

The Gators, on the other hand, are a completely different story. I have no patience with them. I literally need the team to win every year. The Gators won in 1996, 2006 and 2008, but I want many more National Titles.  (This year looks like a championship year!) If we lose to Alabama on Saturday, I will be super depressed. I will take out all of my anger on “god.” I am dead serious. If the Crimson Tide upset the Gators this week, Monday’s post will be a scathing letter in which I blame “god” for the loss and ask him “Why do you hate me?” (I guess if you like “god,” you should root for the Gators to win!)

There are fans for who sports is a way of life; they are even more serious than I am. Statistics show that the day following Super Bowl Sunday has the highest number of spousal abuse incidents. In no way am I condoning such behavior, I am merely stating a fact. (Men don’t like to watch their teams lose the Super Bowl!) *Let the record show; I have suffered through three Super Bowl losses with the Broncos and have never laid hands on a woman!*

The Tobin Bridge is where you will be able to watch thousands of Red Sox fans commit suicide if they don’t make the playoffs this year. I was prepared to jump in 2004 but, thankfully, the team rallied and shocked the world. (Don’t forget, the Boston Herald labeled the 2011 team, “Boston’s best ever.” Talk about high expectations, it was April and they hadn’t even won a game yet!)

Patriots’ fans can be seen jumping from the Tobin Bridge in either late December or early January. I’ll be there with my camcorder to record the Patsy faithful, jumping to their respective deaths! (**Spoiler alert** If you like people jumping from bridges, check back tomorrow for my post on bullying and suicide!)

My Sunday was already great. The Gators destroyed Kentucky, Miami lost to lowly K-State, and Florida State lost to Clemson. The Broncos lost, but I was pleased with the way the team played. Realistically, we have no business competing; star players Champ Bailey, DJ Williams, Elvis Dumervil, Eddie Royal, and Knowshon Moreno didn’t play. The Patsies jumped out to a big lead, only to choke on the big-fat-one and allow the Bills to come back and win. Thanks to Jacoby Ellsbury’s three-run homer in the 14th inning, the Sox beat the Yankees! (We all love that dirty water!)

In most sports, Big losses can ruin a person’s day. But one big loss in college football can ruin a season. Teams that lose twice can kiss the year good-bye! (Suicide-watch warning: If you know any Miami or FSU fans, please keep a close eye on them!) The only remedy for a loss is a win, unless the team loses in historic fashion like the Patsies did yesterday; those losses can last a lifetime. For all of my Facebook friends and Twitter followers, I have changed my picture; the photo is of my new hero; Bills’ kicker Rian Lindell. Just in case you are having a great day, I’ll be posting random bullshit comments, just to keep the kicker’s image fresh in your heads. ENJOY!!! (Don’t be a coward and block me!)

Being a diehard fan is serious business. True fans care for their teams like people care for their dogs. Well, normal people not Michael Vick! Guys will actually turn down sex for sports. Here is a tip for any lady who wants to know how much her boyfriend cares for her. Find out when his favorite team has a big game, and surprise him with plans for some girly date. If he misses the game for you, keep him! (A word of caution: this can be a wonderful relationship strengthening experience, but it can also be very revealing; he may not be that into you. GOOD LUCK!) It’s important to remember, there will always be another girl but there is only one favorite team! (I wouldn’t miss a big Gators game for anything, not even a close family members’ funeral; the cemetery isn’t going anywhere!)

**Please be courteous and schedule personal celebrations around big sporting events. Saturdays and Sundays, during football season, will only ensure that most guys will not show up! If your birthday or anniversary falls on the night of a big game, tough shit; either incorporate the sporting event into the theme of the party, or celebrate the following day! Don’t be selfish and inconsiderate!**

My love of sports is one of the reasons I don’t want children. If I had to miss a big Gators’ game because my kid had to be rushed to the hospital or any other insignificant reason, I would lose my mind. I’m sure children are wonderful, but I haven’t met a kid yet who is worth missing a big game for. I’m not saying I wouldn’t miss a game against Vanderbilt, but when it comes to the tough rivalry games, I just can’t do it. (I am way too selfish to have a child!)

I am also too selfish to be in a relationship. I think I could only be happy with a woman who loves college football. She would be the only one who could understand the way I feel. HMMM, I think I just stumbled upon a great business idea.

**Sportsfandating.com**

     The site will be great. People of all ages and sexual preferences will be able to meet others who have an interest in the same sports as they do. Each profile will display the individuals’ level of fanaticism. People can match up with a person who loves sports exactly the same amount as they do. (I honestly think this is a great idea. If anyone reads this and actually creates the site, I want a ten percent creator’s fee! It’s only fair!)

Never mind! The Domain name is already taken and I just Googled “dating for sports fans;” I happened upon an existing site; mustlovesports.com. My profile is going up as soon as I am done with this post! (I know she is out there!)

Special thanks to the Bills and GO GATORS!!!

@PeteTeix617

 

Coming this week (13)

Posted by Peter Teixeira on

For this week’s entries:

I will post an e-mail to a friend which I sent following an “interesting” experience that occurred in 1999. This post will show that my style of storytelling has been with me for years. I actually wrote these for sheer fun!

I’ll also discuss bullying. Is it a rite of passage, or unnecessary? Maybe it’s both!

************************************************************************************

Yesterday, I mentioned something about an update. Here it is:

     Shamu is growing at a rapid pace. His appetite is out of control. Thank “god” he is not religious, because he would be going straight to hell. I’ve never seen a bigger commandment breaker. He steals the algae pellets that we place in the tank for the Pleco, murders most of his tank mates, and eats like a gluttonous NFL offensive lineman at a dinner buffet. Watching him eat is like watching a maid vacuum a dirty rug. He literally engulfs everything in sight. His name should be Hoover!

Surprisingly, one of the feeders at the top of picture 21, in August 20th’s post, remains alive. I have no idea how he is still with us. The Pleco is also in the tank. Unfortunately, the twins didn’t make it. (RIP)

Shamu loves to eat krill (They are frozen and have to be defrosted.), live fish, pellets, flakes, bloodworms (Same process as krill.), frozen fish (ditto), and live worms. The worms are fairly large and come in a small container filled with dirt; they have to remain in the fridge. I use a plastic spoon to scoop them out and place them into the tank. It’s pretty nasty, but fun to watch! The live fish simply swim at the top of the tank until they are eaten. (Survival of the Fittest at it’s very best!)

We also place some live Cray fish into the tank. They are larger than the blue Crays pictured in the last post, but they are a welcome treat. The first time, I placed two of the Crays into the tank and they were fairly aggressive; you would think they bought the tank. The Crays walked wherever they wanted and didn’t seem fazed by the presence of the large serial killer. (Let’s be honest, Shamu has killed more than Troy Davis!) TOO SOON?

After a couple hours, one of the Crays was “missing.” The other one must have witnessed the carnage because he ran to the corner and hid. He eventually dug a hole under a rock and stayed there for several days. I thought he was smart enough to survive, but nature took its course and Shamu caught him slipping. He is no longer with us. (Damn shame what happened to that crustacean!) I’ll continue to place more Cray fish in the tank because it’s best to give the Red tail a varied diet.

Until next time…

**Soon, Shamu will be eating live mice!**

Latest picture of Shamu

Cray fish: hiding behind rock to avoid Shamu

************************************************************************************

For those who don’t know, the state of Florida has three storied college football teams. The only problem is the fact that the University of Miami and Florida State University have reached the end of their respective stories. The University of Florida is the lone remaining dominant school.

This season was supposed to be the revival for the other two schools. All I heard from their fans is how they are “back!” Turns out I was right; they are not back. If anything, they have regressed! The Gators remain undefeated (4-0) with blowout wins and the nation’s best run defense. How good is the run-D? In the game against our hated rivals, the University of Tennessee, the Volunteers finished the game with a total of negative nine (-9) rushing yards.

Our coaching staff is the best and our players are the most talented. Unlike other schools we play straight up and smack teams in the mouth. We’re not like the scrubs in Tallahassee and Coral Gables. They play run defense like @Efidalgo12’s future wife, there are always at least eight guys in the box! (Enjoy that one and reuse it; it’s my gift!)

Miami is 2-2, with losses to MARY-land and Kansas State. (In case you were wondering, those teams suck!) Florida State lost, at home, to a tough Clemson team and to Oklahoma. Great teams have to win those tough home games. The Seminoles are also 2-2.

Florida 48 – Kentucky 10

BIG game next week; Alabama is coming to town. GO GATORS!

Enjoy this wonderful football Sunday and thanks for the continued support!

@PeteTeix617

This Actually happened – September 24th, 2011

Posted by Peter Teixeira on

Only In New York New Jersey

On Monday, I traveled to New Jersey for Monday Night Football. The New York Giants were hosting the St. Louis Rams. (Yes, the New York football teams play in New Jersey!) No, I haven’t switched my allegiance; I am still a loyal Broncos fan. My cousin‘s boyfriend plays for the Rams and he provided us with tickets; big THANKS to the two of them! It was a great experience! Due to the fact that the Rams were the visiting team, the seats were literally at the top of the stadium. MetLife Stadium is unbelievable so any seat would have been great. The seats turned out to be perfect. There were several Rams’ fans in the area so we didn’t have to be surrounded by annoying Giants’ fans! GO BOSTON! The reason I’ll never forget the experience is what happened a few rows in front of us. One of New York’s proud citizens had a bit too much to drink. He couldn’t hold his liquor and puked all over the guy who was seated in front of him. (It was hilarious. Well, for everyone except the recipient!) The victim quickly stood up and yelled, “What the Fuck!” The culprit, who was too drunk to grasp the severity of the situation, simply shrugged his shoulders and gave the sorry-I’m-a-douche face. I was expecting the guy to get pummeled, but he was clearly already destroyed. Cooler heads prevailed and nothing happened. At the end of the game, there was an empty seat with a red, vomit-soaked, Giants’ jersey underneath. BELIEVE IT OR NOT!

 Objects in the picture were closer than they appear!

Tune in to ESPN at 7pm (Eastern Standard Time) and watch the Gators destroy Kentucky for their fourth win of the season!

Don’t forget to check back tomorrow for a preview of next week’s posts!

I will also give a brief update of Shamu! (Read the post from August 20th if you have no idea what I am talking about!)

@PeteTeix617

Georgia, Texas, & Arizona Get It Right

Posted by Peter Teixeira on

I honestly never heard of Troy Davis prior to yesterday. I decided to Google his name once my Facebook and Twitter pages were full of supportive posts. I was so annoyed when I discovered the facts; people are outrageous. The guy is a convicted killer! Tell me if you ever heard this from an inmate. “I am innocent!” (Wake up people!)

I know most of the geniuses I follow on Twitter and my friends on Facebook are expert, non-practicing, lawyers, but I’ll go with the Supreme Court on this one; there isn’t enough evidence to overturn the original ruling. (End of story!) I don’t know the details, but the people who know the same information about the case as I do who are speaking up the loudest. Obviously there are cases in which people are falsely accused, but this guy had years to prove his innocence. How a murderer becomes a hero is confusing to me! (Is this Bizarro World?)

Even if Mr. Davis didn’t commit the crime he was convicted of, I have a feeling he wasn’t a pillar of the community. There are some Cape Verdean parents who hit their young children for no reason and say, “That’s for the things you did which I don’t know about.” Mr. Davis, if you were innocent of the alleged crime, Georgia killed you for the things they did not know about! Criminals get caught; if you want to be around the fast-life, there will be consequences. I never heard of a guy who had his scholarship to Harvard revoked because he was falsely accused of a murder! (It’s funny how often the falsely accused are usually well known to the police!)

***There is a quote; I think it’s about the grim reaper sewing clothes that would be perfect for this story but I can’t remember it!***

     If you are one of the people who disagree with the death penalty, stop with the gibberish. Protesting and filling up Facebook and Twitter with nonsensical messages is ineffective. There are proper methods to achieving change. If you want America to get rid of the death penalty, VOTE! That’s how a democracy works. Jumping on the bandwagon and turning to social media, only amounts to annoying others who could care less about your cause. (I would post some of the quotes, but I don’t want anyone to think I am attacking them personally!)

I am firm on this issue; I love the death penalty. The only problem I have with the procedure is the fact that it takes so long. We need to find a way to execute murderers quicker. I agree with comedian Ron White when he speaks about Texas and the death penalty. “If you kill someone, we will kill you back; that’s our policy!” White also mentions Texas’ attempt to put in a new death penalty “express lane.” According to him, “If three credible people witness you commit a murder, you can be executed immediately!” (May “god” bless the Lone Star State!)

The stars at night, are big and bright, DEEP IN THE HEART OF TEXAS! (SING IT WITH ME!)

    “Are you upset about the Troy Davis incident?” Yes, they should have saved money and strung him up!

Great job Georgia!

This case has been the most annoying one, yet! I can’t wait until the next celebrity decides to ruin our day with one of these “set the prisoner free protests!”

Let’s shift to a more important topic; prison procedures in Flagstaff, Arizona.

Recently, I read an article about the wonderful people of Flagstaff. They decided to force friends and family to pay a $25 background check fee, before being allowed to visit the prisoners. One concerned citizen, PJ Longoni, was upset because she had to help pay for toiletries, a TV, and legal fees for her incarcerated friends and family members. To Pj, I say, BOO HOO! Next time, surround yourself with better people. If prisoners don’t want to be a burden to their families with such fees, stop committing crimes. A society shouldn’t have to deal with criminals, and we shouldn’t give them any rights. If you break the law, you should go to a horrible place. OUR PRISONS ARE TOO LAX! There are people who actually enjoy being locked up; they are provided with three square meals, a shower, and some activities. (It’s insane!)

Prison should be Hell; people should be afraid to go to be locked up. I say allow the prisoners to fend for themselves and cremate the bodies of the non-survivors. Keep the guards on the outside and kill anyone who attempts to escape. Whatever happens inside, is no concern to society. (My prison system will drastically reduce crime!)

If per chance, an inmate is able to survive their time in the prison, he or she can be released into society. If that individual reverts to crime, there is no second and third chance. People who are incapable of learning a lesson will be strung up. No life sentences or behavioral programs. (It would be a done deal!)

There should be no parole and no reduced sentence for good behavior. Only crazy people would risk going to such a place, and society would be better off without the crazies. Each day, the guards should provide a limited amount of food which is to be distributed by the prisoners themselves. If a person is not able to scrounge-up some food, he or she will die. (I know this seems harsh, but I don’t like crime!)

There should also be no medical staff provided. Prisoners can get treatment once their debts to society are paid in full. These changes would save the government a lot of money, which could be used to improve the educational system!

Some may say that Arizona is going too far. I say the state is not going far enough!

@PeteTeix617

The Best Tasting Chicken

Posted by Peter Teixeira on

For me, food is not a big deal. I eat because I have to. I don’t usually compare or rank different dishes; food is either good or bad. That being said, I had the pleasure of enjoying the world’s best tasting chicken. I don’t care for poultry; I am a seafood guy.

Like any other great discovery, finding the chicken was an accident. Before I begin the tale, I’ll write about my first international experience with native cuisine.

My first trip outside of the United States was to Cancun, Mexico. I was accompanied by my cousins, whose names will be replaced by super heroes, because one of them was actually a super hero! We’ll go with Ice Man, Incredible Hulk, and Hancock. During the flight, we had a discussion with two of the flight attendants; one male and one female. The man had a lisp so, no matter how hungry I was, I couldn’t bring myself to accept his offer for a snack.  Hancock was the only one who said yes to, “do you wan sum peanussss.” (It was hilarious! If he said salty peanussss, I would have died of laughter!)

The suggestion of the attendants, was for us to venture out and experience the real culture. They said we shouldn’t just eat from American restaurants. It seemed like sound advice, so we agreed. (Big MISTAKE!)

We boarded the bus and rode towards the center of town. I have never felt so tall in my life; for the most part, the people in Mexico are really short. As you can probably imagine, we stuck out. Not only did we have on new clothing and footwear, but we were considered tall. The thirty-five cent coke bottles were a great deal, but there was no way in hell we were adventurous enough to actually try some of the food; I’m no Andrew Zimmern! (The hanging meat in most of the shop windows just didn’t look appetizing!)

We received a lot of attention and our “gang-dar” was on high alert so we hopped right back on the next bus. Although the expedition to the center of town was a flop, the desire to eat authentic Mexican cuisine remained.

One night, after punishing our livers at the bar, we decided to eat at a small restaurant in the middle of an alley. (Bigger MISTAKE!)

The next morning, was horrible; we were violently ill. It was a complete waste of a day. We spent the hours passing around bottles of Mylanta as if they were forty ounce bottles of malt liquor. That was the end of our adventurous spirit; it was American fast food for the remainder of our vacation. There would be no more “real” food experience. (I love McDonald’s!)

My second trip outside of the United States is where I found the world’s best tasting chicken. We went to Negril, Jamaica. The trip to Cancun was fresh on my mind, so I wasn’t looking forward to any “real” food experiences.

I was accompanied by Ice Man, Hancock, and a different cousin, Iron Man. Our destination was Negril, but there is no airport near the city so we had to fly to Montego Bay. We didn’t book a shuttle and ended up taking a two hour cab ride. (We literally risked our lives!)

It is assumed that Jamaica is the Marijuana capital of the western hemisphere; I can verify the reputation to be true. We barely took one step outside of the airport exit, before being offered some weed; some of the dealers were teenagers. We declined all offers and found a cab driver who offered us a flat rate. He was a really cool guy. Obviously, he also offered us some marijuana. (Weed is literally everywhere in Jamaica!)

The best and most dangerous part of the ride was the fact that the driver suggested for us to stop at a local store for some beers. We purchased a case and some ice before leaving. The trip had many challenges. The road is only one lane on each side and it winds close to the ocean; sometimes too close to the cliff. The degree of difficulty was increased because most of the cars were speeding. We thought it would be a good gesture to offer the cabbie a beer; completely expecting him to turn down our generosity. He gladly agreed and downed the bottle in one massive gulp. (The more we drank, the less we cared! After all, he was a professional cabbie!)

Three bottles pounded later, Ice Man, who was sober, vetoed the beer offers allowing us to arrive safely. Jamaica is completely different from Mexico; the water is safe to drink. There was no fear of becoming violently ill, so we ventured out to a local restaurant and had some great “real” food. (Shout out to Red Stripe and Ting mixed with Wray and Nephew!)

At night, we hopped into a cab and said to the driver, “Take us to get some real Jamaican food.” The cabbie did as we ordered, and we arrived at a late night hot spot. It was Mexico all over again. There were hanging meats and authentic cuisine. It was a little too real for us. We walked in then quickly walked out; it was awkward.

The cab driver suggested that we try some jerk chicken from one of the roadside stands, and surprisingly, we agreed. The chicken was amazing. The cabbie, who was hip to the local scene, begged us to go to a nearby strip club, but Iron man and Ice Man wanted to get some sleep. We returned to the hotel and they got out of the cab. I, along with Hancock, decided to have an adventure. It was an experience that I will never forget. (This was my first and only strip club visit. The experience is probably why I never have a desire to make the dollars rain on a hoe!)

We finished the chicken and hopped back in the cab. (Now that I look back on it, the cab driver had a great night. We paid for the ride, we bought him some chicken and a drink in the strip club!) The club was at the end of a narrow street. Cars were parked along the road leading up to the entrance. The cabbie found a space and led us in. There was a woman inside of a cage who accepted our payment. The first room was dimly lit and there were men standing along the walls. They were watching two pool tables located in the center of the room. I’ve never been ice-grilled by so many people before. We stuck out like the penis of a horny priest, wearing white pants, in the stands during a little league baseball game! (No offense to Catholics! I was going to say a sore thumb, but I’ve never seen a sore thumb; I don’t think they stick out as much as people say they do! I guess it’s just another dumb saying!)

After the pool table room, we entered the main lounge. There was a bar at one end and tables all over the place. There was an octagon cage in the center of the room. Picture a UFC ring with shorter fences. (Yes, the fence was chain linked!) Two strippers were dancing in the middle and several more strippers were walking around the room, flirting with the men. We made our way to the bar and ordered some drinks. (This was the grimiest scene ever!) Strippers approached us and offered sex for money. The Anthropologist in me indulged one. Here is our conversation:

Me: “How much?”

Stripper: “One hundred American dollars.”

[I thought the price was a bit steep.]

Me: “No thanks; the spring break girls are giving it away for free on the beach!”

[For some reason, she didn’t like my reply.]

Stripper: “That’s American pussy. You want this Jamaican pussy!”

[She knew me so well! How did she know I wanted that Jamaican pussy.]

I bought another drink and purchased one for her; not because I was trying to be nice or anything. She literally begged me for a drink. Hancock and I banged our drinks and got the hell out of there. The cabbie was upset. “We have to stay to watch the sex show.” No thanks pal, let’s get far away from this place. I could see that some of the men had plans on removing us from the burden of having to carry our money in our pockets! (Never follow a cabbie to a strip club in the middle of nowhere!)

The next day, we spoke with a member of the hotel staff and mentioned the jerk chicken. He said, “if you liked the chicken, ask a cab driver to take you to ‘Step Aside;’ he’s the best.” We agreed and spoke with one of the cabbies who hung around the hotel. He agreed to take us and became our designated cab driver. He literally waited for us to wake up in the morning and drove us to any and all locations. (I’ll talk more about him, soon!)

It was a short ride to the stand. We approached the chef and asked for Negril’s best jerk chicken. His name was Marshall and he corrected us; “my chicken is the best in the world.” There was one problem, he wasn’t ready to serve any customers; there was a process. We were disappointed but he had a great suggestion. “Go down to the beach and sit at the bar. Get some beers, look at the pretty ladies and come back in an hour or so. I will have the chicken ready for you guys!” (Going to that bar was the best thing that happened on the trip!)

We ordered drinks from the bar and enjoyed the ocean view. There were two older guys sitting near us. They were in their sixties; one man was Jamaican and the other was white. The white guy was extremely friendly so he engaged us in a conversation. We learned that he was originally from Canada. A friend of his asked him to take a trip to Negril in 1977, and they started the spring break scene. He fell in love with the place and never left. His name was DJ White Boy from Risky Business and he was the coolest guy in town.

DJ White Boy

DJ White Boy asked us about our icebreaker for bagging women and we all pointed to Ice Man. In fact, it was DJ White Boy who gave the Ice Man his name. He didn’t believe us so he gave the group a challenge. There were two girls walking along the water and one was extremely beautiful; her friend was also cute. Unbeknownst to DJ White Boy, we met the girls earlier in the day. He challenged Ice Man to approach them. It was like taking candy from a baby. (Now that’s a saying I can understand!) He agreed that we had a great icebreaker if Ice Man was successful. Long story short, DJ White Boy was impressed and he dubbed my cousin the Ice Man. We became his Boston Boys and we enjoyed the VIP treatment for the remainder of the trip. He even introduced us to his wife and we had lunch with the two of them. (Two of the best people I have ever met!)

We returned to Step Aside, and enjoyed the best tasting chicken in the world. The short cab ride to the hotel was silent; except for the sound of four guys devouring some chicken. I exited the cab, followed by Iron Man. Hancock got out of the front seat, but Ice Man only managed to get one foot out. He said, “I’m going back for some more!” We all laughed as we watched the cab drive off. When he returned he told us that Marshall laughed his ass off when he arrived. For the remainder of the trip, we ate Marshall’s chicken every day; sometimes two or three times. (It was literally the best chicken in the world, and I don’t even really like chicken!)

We became good friends of Marshall’s; to the point that he actually called the Ice Man a few months after we returned to Boston. He wanted to know when we planned on returning to Negril! On one occasion, we drove out to Marshall’s stand, but he wasn’t there. Apparently, the reggae artist, Elephant Man had a concert and Marshall was serving food at the event. We learned the information in a funny manner. There was a cart in Marshall’s spot and the guy asked us to buy his chicken, which he claimed to be the best. When we asked about Step Aside, he responded, “How do you know about him?” The guy told us about the concert, then said, “I’m the second best in Jamaica; my name is Step Around.” It was funny, but his chicken was clearly not on par. (Always go with the original! Always Coca-Cola!)

One afternoon, we decided to walk along the beach on our way back to the hotel. Ice Man wanted to make a quick run to Step Aside so he agreed to take a cab after eating. He left a large tip then hailed a cab. He didn’t realize it, but he was out of cash and the cab driver was cool about the situation. Ice Man promised the cabbie that we would pay the fare and allow him to take us to our destination in the evening. Everything went according to plan, until the following day. Our regular cabbie was sad, almost crying, when we walked out in the morning. We asked why? And he explained that he saw us take another cab the previous night. We explained the situation and promised to keep him as our exclusive driver. (The money they make during the spring break season holds them down for the year! We felt so bad!)

On the final night, we were tired but decided to go to the event anyway. DJ White Boy was working a different event, so we stopped and said good-bye because our plane departed early in the morning. We had to leave as soon as we left the event; we packed before leaving for the night. We thanked DJ White Boy for showing us a great time and left for the event after some farewell drinks. We also stopped by to see Marshall.

The Event was horrible. The DJ sucked and the crowd was dead; we assumed everyone was wiped out. About an hour after we arrived, the atmosphere remained the same. To our surprise, DJ White Boy arrived on stage. He grabbed the microphone from the DJ and promised to get the party started. DJ White Boy stood on stage for fifteen minutes screaming the same thing. “WILL THE ICE MAN COME TO THE STAGE?” We couldn’t believe it. Ice Man didn’t want to go but we forced him. DJ White Boy was excited to see him and the place went crazy. The atmosphere improved and the rest of the night was great. We said good-bye to DJ White Boy once again and rushed to the hotel. Our cab driver made the two hour drive to Montego Bay and we thanked him for a great week.

We were still drunk at six thirty in the morning. Our plane was scheduled to leave at eight, but the terminal was completely empty, except for a few workers, mulling about. After an hour, we learned the flight was canceled. “Why?” Because they didn’t have a plane! I SHIT YOU NOT!

They placed us on stand-by and the first flight left at twelve thirty. Ice Man and Hancock were lucky enough to make it on the flight, but I had to wait for the next flight along with Iron Man. It was the shittiest experience ever. We had to exit customs and go through the entire screening process a second time. Luckily we made it on the two thirty flight. We arrived in Charlotte and were surprised to see Ice Man and Hancock walk onto our plane. Apparently, they sat on the tarmac for two hours while the maintenance crew serviced their plane. We all flew back to Boston; it was a trip we would never forget!

I plan on returning to Negril in the near future!

@PeteTeix617

Road Trip: Atlanta

Posted by Peter Teixeira on

Sometimes, life can cause people to forget the importance of friendship. Here is a throwback story of a simpler time. In the spring of 2000, my friends and I embarked on a road trip to Georgia’s capital city, Atlanta. Have you ever wondered what happens when 8 Massholes decide to rent a minivan and visit a fellow jerk in Atlanta?

Here is our tale:

***For the purpose of this post, I will replace the names of my friends. There is no real reason other than I think the story will be better if I travel with former Broncos’ Greats.***

     I will travel with Ricky Nattiel, Jason Elam, Rod Smith, John Elway, Steve Atwater, Shannon Sharpe, and Terrell Davis. We stayed at Dennis Smith’s house.

Special Shout Out to Steve Atwater and Ricky Nattiel for handling all of the driving duties.

Before we start the trip, allow me to preface the story with a relevant fact. A month or so before the journey, there was an incident at a wedding which must be mentioned. My uncle was drunk and he went around telling everyone that one of my cousins “likes the big banana stick!” As you can expect, we quoted him a thousand times during the long drive. Everything anyone said was challenged with, you like the big banana stick.

The trip started in Boston, but the group stopped at my apartment in South Orange New Jersey to pick me up. At the time, I had no idea how lucky I was to live in New Jersey, but as the story unfolds you will come to understand why.

We tortured each other the entire ride down. Any outsider witnessing our crew interact would probably think that we hated one another, but everything we did was all in good fun.

About three hours after I entered the car, we stopped at a gas station for some snacks. Shannon Sharpe was seated in the passenger seat and trying to sleep the entire time. We must have used my uncle’s quote fifty times or so. Everyone left the car and returned with random junk food. Shannon Sharpe didn’t leave with the rest of the group; he decided to wait until the last minute to get his snacks. He walked sluggishly to the door and returned after several minutes. He purchased a bottle of water and a banana. (I have no idea how he found a banana at a gas station quickie mart!)

Shannon Sharpe entered the car and sat down without a peep being heard. We all waited for several minutes before breaking out into a riotous laughter. For the remainder of the ride, there was only one person who literally loved the big banana stick. (When in the company of jerks, always remember to pay attention to what people are saying!)

The ride continued and it was brutal. Every stop ended with a mad dash for a seat in the back row or shotgun. For some dumb reason, we decided to play smack-the-shit-out-of-the-person-sitting-by-the-door-in-the-middle-row; fun game for those who sat in the back. People would refuse to leave the car so they didn’t have to sit in the middle. I’m sure the trip was elongated by three hours because the loser stood outside of the car and refused to sit in the hot seat. I lost one time and it was hell.

After the longest trip of my life, we finally made it to Dennis Smith’s place. Dennis shared a rented home with his cousin, “Sage Steele” and two roommates. We’ll call them Karl Mecklenburg and Tom Jackson. Karl was cool and joined in on the silliness, but Tom was a serious person who didn’t appreciate having his home overtaken by a group of maniacs. The same immature behavior from the car continued during our stay; we just amped up the activities due to the excessive drinking. (We couldn’t find a liquor store fast enough!)

Tom Jackson wasn’t around for a good portion of our stay. He decided to spend the time with a lady friend in order to keep his sanity. Every so often, he would return to pick up some things, and each time he left shaking his head. (I guess we’re not for everyone!)

I won’t cover all of our activities, but the trip was full of nonstop nonsense. There was one interesting fact about the house; it was haunted. Apparently the home existed during the days of slavery, and we saw a list of slave names and prices. The renters were always scared to be home alone because the house had an obvious negative presence. The basement was off limits because it was the most haunted spot in the place; no one dared venture down there. (We honestly heard all types of random noises emitting from both the cellar and the attic, throughout the night.)

One afternoon, Ricky Nattiel and Terrell Davis left with Dennis Smith to get some food. Before leaving, there was an incident. Ricky Nattiel couldn’t find his shoes. He was extremely upset and blamed everyone. There were threats of payback; he felt a line was crossed and promised retaliation. No one copped to hiding his shoes, so he was forced to leave the house with someone else’s sneakers, which were several sizes too large. It was hilarious! (I AM LITERALLY LAUGHING OUT LOUD, RELIVING THE MOMENT!)

A funny thing happened once the guys left. Steve Atwater admitted that he knew where the shoes were; they were under his leg. Steve was seated on the couch and the shoes were hidden under him. He discovered them during Ricky’s rant and decided to keep them hidden. After laughing for several minutes, we decided to put on our thinking caps in order to come up with a perfect plan for hiding the shoes. (We were incapable of thinking without our caps!)

There was only one location; the basement. The problem was finding someone who was brave enough to walk down the steps to place the shoes at the bottom. No such luck! Not only was the place scary, but we didn’t trust one another to leave the door unlocked. (There was no way in hell I was willing to risk being locked in that basement!)

We agreed on a second best location and threw the sneakers into the washing machine. The guys returned and Ricky continued to spew out threats. We all laughed and finally revealed the truth. He was pissed that we hid the shoes and didn’t even bother giving us the satisfaction of watching him scour the premise in an attempt to find the sneakers.

I decided to walk to the fast food joint with Steve Atwater and Jason Elam. When we returned, the house was in a stir. Apparently, the ghosts decided to make an appearance. The shoes were no longer inside of the washer. At first, we didn’t believe the story; we assumed someone removed them. We searched high and low until finally, someone opened the basement door. To everyone’s surprise the shoes were on the bottom step.

Chills were sent down everyone’s spine. It was our last night and we were looking forward to getting the hell away from the paranormal activity, in the morning. Rod Smith was a brave soul and he decided to run down the steps to retrieve the sneakers. We had to promise him that we wouldn’t lock the door, but he only agreed after Ricky vowed to hold the door open. With the speed of a cheetah, chasing after a gazelle in the wild African plain, he ran down and grabbed the shoes. His return to the top happened in less than a blink.

Obviously we are a bunch of skeptics, so everyone wanted to get to the bottom of the incident. I was clearly the prime suspect, except for the fact that I was not in the house when the shoes were moved. Sage was visibly shaken because she had to live in the home. She had several instances in which she1 heard random noises, but this was beyond anything that she had ever experienced.

While I was alone in the kitchen, Sage approached me and said, “Peter, I know you couldn’t have done this because you were not here, but if you had anything to do with this, please tell me so I will be able to continue sleeping here. If you gave someone the idea to do it before you left, tell me and I won’t snitch.” I looked her in the eye and assured her that I was innocent. I was not in the house and I promised that I did not tell anyone to move the sneakers. She knew I was being sincere and was terrified. We all gathered in the living room and sat in a large circle; Tom was not there the entire day.

We had a serious discussion trying to figure out who was responsible because no one wanted to stay in the house. There were the people who feigned confidence, but they were clearly scared. No one copped to moving the shoes, so we agreed to end the discussion. The final act was for everyone to “swear to god” that they had no involvement in the incident. Everything went as planned. There were two people remaining. The lover of big banana sticks himself, Shannon Sharpe and me. Shannon wouldn’t do it. He simply refused so we all knew it was him. Everyone felt a sense of relief, except for Sage; she wanted answers and Shannon refused to admit his guilt.

The following morning, I called everyone into the living room and shared a truth. It was I who moved the shoes. I grabbed the sneakers and hurriedly placed them on the bottom step before we left the house. It was perfect because I had an alibi. I can’t count the number of times I heard someone say, “it can’t be Peter; he wasn’t here.” The only reason I decided to reveal the truth was Sage. I knew that she would not be able to sleep comfortably so I did what was right. The guys were lucky because if she wasn’t there, I might have kept the secret for a couple years.

Because I am always a prime suspect, Ricky decided to blame me for originally stealing his shoes. The following morning, while I was away from the house, he recruited the others to hide my bag. Where? In the attic! The entrance was in the ceiling so Rod had to stand on John Elway’s shoulder to reach the opening. I wasn’t too worried because I understood the rules of the game. Eventually, I grabbed Ricky’s bag and snuck it into the basement. (It was the scariest thing I ever did. If anyone knew I was down there, I would have been trapped for hours!)

He continued to joke about my missing bag and was incensed when I pointed out that his bag was missing as well. We are both stubborn so no truce was agreed upon. Steve Atwater was pissed. “We’re leaving soon so you guys better stop playing around and get the bags.” He ordered. We laughed! “You guys are idiots anyways. Why didn’t you just keep your bags safe in the car?” He went on and on about how smart he was for locking his bag in the car. We laughed uncontrollably. (Tears were rolling down our cheeks!)

Unbeknownst to him, prior to his rant, we snuck out the back door, ran around the house and stole his bag from the unlocked rear door. Rod Smith and Jason Elam helped me sneak the bag into the basement. Although it was scary, being there with two other people made the basement a less horrifying place. We hid the bag deep under the house’s foundation.

Steve figured out that we were up to something and decided to check the car. He opened the back door and was stunned; his reaction was priceless. I have never laughed so hard in my life. He entered the house and threatened to leave us behind unless we returned his bag. I could hardly breathe; it was the funniest scene ever. After realizing that we would not give him his bag, he said, “I’m leaving. Anyone who is not in the car in ten minutes is staying!”

His announcement was music to my ears. I honestly hoped he would leave because I would have preferred to fly back to New Jersey, rather than get back into the hell on wheels. Ten minutes elapsed and true to his word, Steve drove off. We were all happy! Everyone began to search for flights. Steve actually drove to the highway until he finally realized that he should turn back around. When he entered the house we were pissed. The letdown of having to drive back was the low point of the trip.

We all decided to give up the bags and I was honestly impressed that they were able to hide my bag in the attic; the ceiling was high. Atlanta survived our visit and we hit the road. The return trip was weird and completely opposite from the drive to Atlanta. We tortured each other so much that we were exhausted. Everyone became extremely nice. People were quiet and we were actually sharing snacks; it was sickening. (Our behavior was out of character!)

The return trip did provide one memorable moment. Steve was pulled over by a cop for speeding. It was either at the end of Georgia or the beginning of South Carolina. The cop looked at Steve and in a racist manner he said, “You ain’t gon speed in my state, boy!” (I thought that only happened in the movies!)

The drive back was long and boring. For the first time during my stay in South Orange, I was happy to live in New Jersey. I jumped into my bed and recovered from the weekend; sleeping like a baby. I was happy to know the rest of the guys had to suffer another four hours in that god-forsaken minivan. I had the last laugh!

Having great friends is the best!

@PeteTeix617