butthead aka 216

Myself and a few other members will occasionally discuss relationship and girl problems in Plug on those lonely winter nights when no feminists/morons are around. I mentioned it in another thread, but I will repeat my Saturday in greater detail here. There's hardly a point to this story, but it's my journal so you can catch my load in your eye if you don't like it.

Basically, my friend started boinking this girl named Justine. She is kind of obsessed with him (I have no clue why: He isn't good-looking and has a dumb personality) and he's not sure about her, so to keep the mood light he invited me and another friend to hang out with her and her 2 friends.

In a comment only Rezz and other Pittsburghians will understand, we pregamed with some drinking games then went to Tiki, and then made our way to Diesel. Diesel is a dance club where you are packed in like sardines. So anyways, I am dancing with my chick, trying to gauge if she's enjoying my package grinding against her ass or if she's too gentle of a person to tell me how repulsed she is. From the corner of my eye, I see Justine dancing with some random Spanish kid with a chinstrap. I look over again and see them playing tonsil hockey, furiously spit-swapping on the Diesel dance floor as my buddy looks on from a distance, eyes glazed in a confused and drunken state, wondering how Mr. Steal Yo Girl made his way through the smog of Axe and sweat to indeed steal his girl.

I focus on the task at hand and slide my hands down into my girl's jeans. The dancing is beginning to feel repetitive: I've exhausted most of my moves and the combination of dehydration, fatigue, and boredom is making my quads cramp with the force of a thousand suns. I put my hands on hers, one of which is clutching one of those super small handbag things that girls carry, and start waving her arms around and whacking random dancers in the head with her handbag. She finds it hilarious and cute in a WTF sort of way. I take her hand and make her smack my ass, then claim sexual assault and get really offended, in hopes I can jokingly turn the event into a blowjob later. "Some girl kept smacking my ass and being really sexual and it was just weird. I mean, she was cute and stuff but she was so gropey and couldn't keep her hands to herself." Those words at 3AM proved to get a good laugh but a blowjob was not to be had.

So focus. We are still at the club, dancing. I turn my head again and see my buddy sword fighting with Justine, using their tongues. Good golly gee whiz, what a little sloot she is. Later my buddy will pretend that he didn't see her making out with Juan Pablo Sanchez Gonzalez Rojas III, but I know he did. We exit the club and Justine starts yacking all over the street while we wait for a cab in the snow. It was never confirmed if it was from too much alcohol or the taste of a million men on her breath, but she left in the cab with her head hanging out the window, drooling slime down the side of the taxi. Eventually I grab a cab and head to my buddies' place, where all the girls were crashing as well.

Skip to the next day. The girls leave on their trek to whereverthefukc and it's just me and my buddy. As what happens when white people drink, we recap and analyze the night simultaneously. He starts telling me how Justine is really into him and blah blah, which is where I mention the casual make out session she had with Mario Lopez right in front of his face. He claims he doesn't remember that, and whips out his phone to show me some texts she sent him while on her drive back home that morning. "Seriously. You are so fukcing perfect." That was the text.



My heart stopped for a second. It was a biological reaction. My brain had sent signals to the rest of my body that this was beyond logical comprehension. Not only is she way out of my friend's league, but she just sent a completely cringe-worthy "you're perfect" text about 10 hours after making out with George Lopez Jr. So as the day went on, and we chowed down on old pizza and stale beers, I began thinking what would happen if the roles were reversed. It was tough because I'd never be big enough of an asswipe to send a "you're perfect" text to anyone, let alone someone I wasn't dating, let alone someone i had sex with once, let alone someone who saw me making out with a younger version of Geraldo. But I tried. I pretended I was lame enough to send that text and couldn't imagine any scenario where a girl would be receptive whatsoever to me even talking to her again.

In recap, this girl pre-arranged to sleep at my friend's house, went out with him, made out with some guy in front of him, came home to his house to sleep, sent him love texts the next day.

I guess it's one of those weird double standards situations that are fine for girls to do but not guys (The kinds that don't exist in the feminist fantasy land). Or maybe my buddy is just a chump. Both, actually. I realize mentioning it could be construed into sounding like I am a whiny mens rights activist, but let it be known to the masses that I also hate those people as much as feminists: Feminists are just more vocal, larger in numbers, and 99% of the time talking 100% out of their asses. Man, I hate feminists. I will save taking a verbal dump on them for another time on another day.

I will be posting some music stuff later today or tomorrow. My updates have been sporadic but I don't think its caused anyone to slide into a crippling depression just yet, so whatever. There's a band called You Blew It! that is supposed to be a good newer emo band that I will be listening to and posting videos of. Stay tuned.

Deviouz

I remember this.

I remember this convo in plug.

I remember you saying she blowed this random dude, then after that, she made out with your mate.

I also remember chundering in my mouth reading it.

Dr_Rez

All I can say is Diesel is where the slootiest sloots go in all of Carson Street so I am not surprised. And I don;t think it was a cringworthy text on her part, I think it was intentionally sent for a particular reason. Girls like that thrive on attention right? What better wy to continually get attention from a dude you barely know than send him a text like that, which for all you now was actually group texted to all her male friends. Il bet after he got that all he did was think about her and tell her how he felt the same way.

__________________
*Best chance of losing virginity is in prison crew*
*Always Checks Credentials Crew*
*nba > nfl crew*
*Shave one of my legs to pretend its a girl in my bed crew*

djchameleon

Your friend is a beta male chump. No one should stand for that male or female. This has nothing to do with societal standards.

Is she even a dime? Dimes aren't even worth that though. Plenty of other dimes in the bank. It would explain why he let her fly though.

__________________

Fame, fortune, power, titties. People say these are the most crucial things in life, but you can have a pocket full o' gold and it doesn't mean sh*t if you don't have someone to share that gold with. Seems simple. Yet it's an important lesson to learn. Even lone wolves run in packs sometimes.

butthead aka 216

That was actually another friend with another girl. His pseudo-model buddy got a bunch of girls he works with at Hollister to come over for a party. Some sloot blew the model in the bathroom, which was pretty obvious to anyone paying attention, then made out with my buddy later in the night. Lulz were had by all who were paying attention.

It was weird because he's definitely not the type of guy to fawn over some random sloot. I saw his text conversation, he wasn't really giving her the attention she wanted. Maybe she was just really baiting him for the attention or maybe she is really into him despite being a sloot. She seems pretty desperate but she is pretty fine too, so I don't know what's going on. Wish my buddy would admit he saw her making out with Mario Lopez and call her on it but he's got no sac.

Neapolitan

Is that story a personal re-adaptation of the movie The Mysteries of Pittsburgh?

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butthead aka 216

I am risking the removal of my sac by admitting this, but I have cried or come close to crying because of a girl before. To sound less like a pussy, I will start this shindig off by saying that I am anti-crying and probably haven't cried in 5 years with the exception of the time my dog got unexpected lung cancer and I had to put the ole boy down. But if you don't cry over putting a pet down, then you are likely an empty, soulless, cadaver of a human being. Back when butthead aka 216 was merely a young boy, he did not have the gargantuan coconuts dangling between his legs that he has today. No sir, he had small raisins which produced feels and emotional instability. These are all accounts of my teenage and early college years, when my testes actually fit comfortably in my briefs.


1) Archie Star - Let's Get Married



Back when I was 17ish, I ditched everything that my older friends told me, and turned a casual friends with benefits situation to a real relationship over a few months. My naive self wasn't content enough to be balls deep several times a week with no commitment or obligations, apparently. In the way that most storybook romances begin, I put it in her butt, then swigged MD 20/20 with her for a few hours before telling her I loved her and passing out in her basement. Thus, a relationship was born.

So, she had an athletic scholarship roughly half way across the country, which I knew going into the relationship. I figured I would just do what I had always done: Refuse to plan ahead and mentally block out the fact that she would someday be moving to the midwest and I wouldn't. I had always been the type to think about crossing bridges only when there was nowhere else to walk. Plan worked well until the day before she was set to board a plane to out-of-my-life-ville and then an avalanche of feels rained down on me with the force of a thousand monsoons. Myself and a handful of friends went to this festival where buffalo wing companies competed for top prize. On the way home, my friend Tara was driving with me in the passenger seat. We had a summer mixtape in the CD player and this song came on and I teared up like a wittle beebee... Tonight, I say let's just get outta this town, lets go to Seattle, watch rain fall to the ground... We had kinda jokingly discussed during pillowtalk about how cool it would be to someday just pack up and move to wherever together. But it's like getting older: When you're young, you have all these dreams and plans that you know will never happen, but the fact that there is still time left in the hourglass gives you some sort of weird false hope that you allow yourself to feel. But then the hourglass starts running out and you no longer have time on your side - the dreams are officially deceased.


I tried to do the tears-running-stone-face-wow-i-look-stoic-and-tough thing but the lip quivered and it was all over. I nearly drowned in my tears. Nobody in the car understood why I was crying so suddenly, but it was a combination of having a great night with my best friends and the realization that tomorrow I'd likely never see my girlfriend again, and we had never really talked about it. Planning wasn't my best feature.



2) Bush - Swallowed



So the next day, she leaves for wherever-the-fukc. I drive to her house one last time and it's a total wahhhhh-fest between myself, her family, her, etc. I start up the car to leave and this song comes on. Her favorite band was Bush so we listened to them a ton, and this particular CD happened to be in my stereo system... I'm with everyone and yet not... Gotta get away from here, gotta get away from here... I miss the one that I love a lot... Miss the one that I love a lot... There was a feeling of uncertainty and I had that feeling in my stomach where you kinda wanna barf but there's nothing there to vomit.

I took the back roads home and parked up the street from my parents house in this little indentation in the woods and just sat there sobbing for awhile. Partly because I didn't want my step-dad thinking I had a twat and partly because once I entered the house, I knew my weekend would be spend throwing a 1 person pity party in my room. I pretty much sobbed all weekend to the Razorblade Suitcase and Sixteen Stone albums.

3) Incubus - Stellar



If you are wondering why this is mainly involving the same girl, it's because following this relationship I learned how to deal with relationship issues like an adult: Heavy drinking with drunken shouting matches followed by apologetic yet bitter voicemails messages. So that girl ended up moving far, far away but she planned on transferring colleges once she found a match that was closer. In the meantime, I arranged to travel east to one of her away matches that was closest to home. We had a mutual friend at the college she was playing at, so I made the trip to see her. They lost the game.

I guess it was an important one or whatever, because after the game she was not nearly as happy to see me as I was to see her. My heart sunk like a battleship and I am pretty sure I lost the color in my face. When I regained color, it was probably a bright red, half due to pure anger and half due to embarrassment that I drove several hours alone for what amounted to a quick hello. Ok, it was a little more than that, but I remember her being really short with me and kind of in a hurry to get out of there. In hindsight, she was probably cheating on me with some guy named Jamal in St. Louis and felt shame in looking me in the eye, but anyways... I hopped into my car and drove 100 the whole way home. Again, the mixtape got to me when this song came on. By this time, my large sac had begun to grow so I no longer had the capability to cry like a bitch. I did the angry-teeth-grinding-cry on the drive home. As I approached my parents' driveway I felt my tear ducts glue themselves shut to preserve my penis. That was the last time I cried over a girl.

Dr_Rez

Keep it going, I love reading this journal.

__________________
*Best chance of losing virginity is in prison crew*
*Always Checks Credentials Crew*
*nba > nfl crew*
*Shave one of my legs to pretend its a girl in my bed crew*

Isbjørn

That reminds me of how I should totally listen to TBS's debut and analyze the crap out of it.

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butthead aka 216

You really should. Whatever you haven't listened to, you need to. In my head, when I think of perfect emo music, this is it. Ahead of it's predecessors and over a decade later, still ahead of current music too.

Full Album:

Tell All Your Friend (YouTube)

Not sure why that video doesn't appear to be working, but you can copy the URL if you want to.