Storytime with LIONINSIDE

[LIONINSIDE]

A quick follow up to The Quickest & Hottest Pickup.

DoubleDown is the only person that I've shared the link to this thread with. We've been texting back and forth for the last week and he has pointed out some funny shit that I had forgotten about. But I'm happy with the way my stories are written.

Last night after reading Part III he sent me a couple of texts. That I won't screenshot because they contain real names. But other than name changes, these texts are his recollection of his last night in town verbatim...

[I remember the strip club, and Danny Boy or Boomer paying for my lap dance. I kept asking her what I could do and touch, and she said "Anything you want.", So I grabbed her boobs and she immediately said, "not there," so I just sat there as she danced on me (I was drunk so my dick didn't work, which I'm sure she could tell too.) I think too she answered her phone and it was her father calling her. What a great night.]

[I remember that week changed my life. I came home and thought, "What the fuck am I doing with my life? I'm miserable and don't enjoy anything." The next night at UPS I just thought of the trip and how happy and how much fun I had. I just walked over to my boss and told him I was quitting. I had no plan or anything, but I knew I had to do something that made me happier.]

DoubleDown packed up his rusty 1989 740GL Volvo not too long afterwards, and drove the 2,700 miles to Vegas. Leaving the small town, and everything and everyone he had ever known.

A respectable gamble that I had taken myself a year prior.

DoubleDown is one of my closest friends. Easily my best, and most fun, drinking buddy. So there will be many more tales featuring him and the mad times we've had.

[LIONINSIDE]

Red Lips 'til Sunday

Class president, varsity center on the football team, playing Li'l Abner (lead role) in that gay play, being the most popular kid in high school. My cousin Jay (STD) was, and is, the most charismatic person I've ever known. He was unquestionably my first choice to be the best man at my wedding. In addition to all of his good deeds and accomplishments he also was a drummer for a few local bands. From a very young age. 'Spud Gun' (lol) was his first band in middle school.

For a few months in our late teens I was the "manager" of his rock band, 'Kizmet'. I never added any value whatsoever to the band. Other than humor. One night I walked into the coffee shoppe/tiny music venue 'Cool Beans' (sober btw) on Green St. in Worcester as they were about to take the stage. I was carrying a briefcase that I had recently purchased at the Salvation Army. Which flung open 30 seconds after I walked in the door. Papers, flyers, and other shit knocking over the chess pieces on the table I was about to sit at. Standard clumsy behavior, and bad beat, for LIONINSIDE. Which was applauded by the small crowd. Fuck me.

One of the song titles I suggested to him and his band was 'Red Lips 'til Sunday' in reference to the Raspberry Cider Jacks that was our favorite beer to drink underage. That shit was good. But if you drank enough of them it left a red stain on/in your mouth that lasted for a day or so. Whatever. (Alcoholism FTW).

[I texted Jay while writing this post for the lyrics to this Kizmet gem, but he fucking threw them away many years ago, and can't remember any of them. It's a goddamn shame. That could've been a big international hit. Ha!]

The rest of this story doesn't involve Jay. It's about DoubleDown and LION's weekly routine during those days.

The weeks we were fortunate enough to score a case of Raspberry Cider Jacks (most weeks) we'd go out "driving & drinking". That's what we called it to alleviate the stigma of "drinking & driving." (Extremely high tolerance for alcohol due to our genetics, FTW).

I worked at Toys R Us at the time and he worked across the street at Filene's in the Auburn Mall. We'd switch off carpooling to work when we had similar shifts. On many nights I was done with work an hour before he was. So I would go to the mall and hang out with him in the backroom/warehouse area. Where we would screw around doing the dumbest shit. Never one to back down from a dare, DD would pick up the phone and make the craziest announcements over the intercom that were heard throughout the store.

"Axl Rose to the women's shoe department. AXL ROSE TO THE WOMEN'S SHOE DEPARTMENT PLEASE!" Or, "Bill Murray to cosmetics. BILL MURRAY!! Can you please report to cosmetics?!?!"

Fucking DoubleDown. What a funny bastard?!?! On a number of occasions a supervisor would walk into the backroom where we were hanging out and goofing off. I would be nervous that he was going to get in trouble but he always told me, "Ehhh, don't sweat it." And he'd immediately greet the manager with a smile and his charm, to where I was never once questioned as to why I was there. A random kid/stranger who didn't even work at this place, lol.

We got paid every Friday and would drive into Auburn together to pick up our paychecks. Cash them at the the local bank. And then after a few hours at our houses, telling lies to our moms about what our plans were for the night, we'd take a booze-cruise. We switched off driving every week. The driver got semi-drunk, and the passenger got fucking shitfaced, staining our face by slamming them Cider Jacks.

[Now is a good time to address this topic because many of the readers likely think I'm an asshole for driving around in this condition. I've driven over 100,000 miles "under the influence" in my life. No DUI's, no car wrecks, no bar fights. My record is clean as a whistle. Alcohol has been a crutch for me to lessen the lifelong social anxiety I've dealt with. And it has been a +EV play for me. These fun times that I've written about wouldn't be possible without it. Sure there have been a few nights when I shouldn't have driven from the bar, but anytime I've been really fucked up I always found another way home. I have a sick tolerance for alcohol. The farm boy, born in Big Beaver by the borderline from Saskatoon is a fucking pussy compared to me. I'm not trying to justify my poor decisions, but giving some insight on alcoholism to those who aren't heavy drinkers.]

Between the two of us, DoubleDown and I had at least 10 crappy used-cars that we drove in our teens. Most of my memories from those nights are of me in my huge mobster-style 1980 white Cadillac (fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror of course), and DD's jeep. A Suzuki Samurai that had no heat, and plastic windows that would flap all over the place. That didn't matter though, even in the cold New England winter. The Cider Jacks kept us warm. We'd drive around the small towns in the area drinking beers and listening to music. When it was DD's week to drive we'd often end up at the cemetery in a neighboring town where his grandmother was rested. He'd get out of the car to say a prayer or talk out his thoughts to her grave. It was kind of sad to watch, but he'd always hop back in the Samurai with a smile and we'd continue our adventure.

I'll end this post with a good song/story about Buddy the Goon, from Saskatoon. Written by my favorite songwriter. It's one of my favs that WZ crafted after randomly coming up with the idea to write a song about sports.

[LIONINSIDE]

She really loves it when I eat her ass
cause I got me an ounce 'a cocaine
That bitch loves it when I FUCK her mom
cause I got me an ounce 'a cocaine

LIT UP LIKE A FUCKIN LIGHTBULB

I've been an obsessed fan of music for as long as I can remember. One of my earliest memories is sitting in my booster seat while my mom bounced around the kitchen, rocking out to 'Born in the USA' on the record player while cooking the grande-cuisine that was a staple in our house, 'Spaghetti Milk and Butter.' Jackson Browne was her favorite musician and she almost named me, 'Jackson'. But decided to name me after some character from 'General Hospital' instead. Not nearly as cool.

Over the years there were many songs glamorizing cocaine that I liked, and I always wanted to do it ONCE. Just to know what they were talking about and to understand the songs better. I was always scared of drugs (other than alcohol clearly) as a kid. I didn't smoke weed until I was 23 or 24 years old in Vegas. That was a great night.

Not long after moving back to MA during that stint in 2013-2014 I went out one night to the Blackstone Tap on Water St. with my high school buddies and was fortunate enough to pick up a girl who I went home with. Apparently I had some competition that night with a friend-of-friends because when I checked my Facebook the next day I had a threatening message saying something to the effect of "I like you, but you better never talk to me that way again. Or there will be trouble." I had, and still have no idea what I said to him which caused the anger, but apparently he felt cockblocked. This guy's name was Larry and he had green teeth. I could never figure out why he was part of my friend's crew. He lived with his mom and siblings in a padlocked basement room where who knows what he had in there. He was a creep. A year later my long-term ex-girlfriend from Vegas told me that she had received a private message on Facebook of a dick-pic from Larry. What a fucking piece of shit. With green teeth.

Like many of the girls I've picked up, this "one-night stand" turned into a short-term relationship that ended with me ripping her heart in two. Angela had the the most outrageous sense of humor of any female I have ever met. Very raw. Think, Amy Schumer, but better looking and a lot more funny. She could, and would, put an entire room in stitches. And the more she drank and the more shit she put up her nose, the funnier she got. I actually moved in with her for a while after my mom passed away. Because it was offered to me, and I hated the idea of being a 33 year old man who lived with his father in my childhood house. Plus her apartment was less than five minutes from the bar I worked at. And she was great in the sack. And she had some health issue down there to where she couldn't get pregnant/have children. So cumming inside of her wasn't a risk. Good puss. Good, good puss. Underneath she was beautiful. And like all coke-sluts, she had a talent for blowjobs.

During our first night together I told her where I worked. Tending/managing a bar not far from her apartment. Sure enough she showed up a couple of days later, and after a bunch of laughs about our first night together, we agreed to meet up again.

The next weekend I took her to Bocado Tapas Wine Bar where we had a fantastic meal. Then we hit a couple of bars afterwards and ended up at my place of employment. (I normally never "shit where I eat" but the culture in this city was such that it was standard behavior to pop in to the bar you worked at on your off nights. To over-tip the bartenders and, as a manager, keep an eye on things.)

This was intended to be a casual relationship, so I didn't give a shit when she told me that her friend, Michelle, was going to stop by.

The three of us sat at the end/corner of the bar (best place to sit) and were having a great time for about 30 minutes before they excused themselves to go to the lady's restroom. Which had only one toilet. I figured this was just normal behavior for girls to go gossip privately about the new guy Angela had just met. But they took fucking forever to return to the bar. When they did, I joked, "What were you girls doing in there?? Banging lines off the toilet seat??"

"Ahahaha." We all had a good laugh. They hit the bathroom together a few more times that night, and on the short drive back to Angela's place (where we fucked like animals) she asked me, "I wasn't doing coke tonight (FAKE NEWS), but sometimes I do. Is that an issue for you?"

A red flag that LION ignored because I was all messed up at the time, grieving over the loss of my mom, and drinking like a goddamn madman.

I moved in with her a couple of months after our first meeting at Blackstone. Like my wise cousin 'DJ' once told me, "Nobody has a 'I]little'[/I] coke problem." This broad would get daily nosebleeds. And most nights when we hit the bars she'd be snorting blow in the bathrooms with her "friends". Once again, I was too fucked up to care during this period of my life. I had witnessed a lot of cocaine use during those months but never felt comfortable to take the gamble myself. I wanted to be in a safe and private environment for my experience.

So, one night we had plans to go out to dinner with Michelle and her husband. In Angela's apartment while she was getting dressed and ready to go-out I made myself a drink. This was when the big brands started coming out with flavored liquor. There was a bottle of Jack Daniels Honey on top of the fridge and my dumbass thought that these flavored bottles were a watered down version. Similar to an Apple Pucker or Butterscotch Schappes (low ABV). Well, I poured myself and drank a full pint glass of this whiskey. Maybe with a few ice cubes. Maybe not.

I was so fucking goddamn drunk when Michelle picked us up. The streets were icy and I slipped a number of times trying to get myself into the back seat. I was FUCKED up.

Once I was able to get my drunk-ass in the car we drove to the 'One Eleven' which is probably the nicest and best restaurant in the Worcester.

[Our dinner was uneventful (I'm a harmless drunkard) but a couple of days later one of the waiters from 111, who was a regular at the bar I worked at came in. As I served him his Miller High Life he asked me, "Holy fucking shit man. How much did you drink that night?!??!"]

After stumbling out of the restaurant we went back to Michelle's house. Where we sat at the kitchen playing strip-poker. We were all down to our undies and I couldn't even see straight. After drinking the Jack Honey, red wine at the restaurant, and beers during our poker game I was a fucking puddle of myself. I was about to fall off of my chair when Angela whispered, "meet me in the bathroom in 2 minutes." I thought she wanted to fuck because that's the type of good-girl she was.

When I walked in she had four lines of CO-CAINE, CO-CAINE, CO-CAINE, CO-CAINE cut up on the on the bathroom countertop. They were tiny. Not like the stuff you see in the movies. I had been around, offered, and refused this shit plenty of times since I started dating this broad. But with her recommendation that "this would wake me up, I'd feel better". And because I felt safe in this house, as opposed to a bar bathroom sink. Now was the time to see what all the hype was about. She said, "Two for me and two for you. I'll do one, then you do one. Then we'll do another". One little line was all it took for me. I snorted this powder and holy fucking shit. I went from being the drunkest I've ever been to...

INSTANT SOBRIETY!!!!!!!! What the FUCK?!?! Such a powerful awakening rush.

After she finished off the other three lines we went back to the kitchen table in our undies to get back to the poker game. Where the cards and strategy were SO amazingly clear to me. Vinny Vinh for the win style. (I'll write another post about him. With pics.)

After another hour of playing cards naked, Angela and I hit the couch for some rest. A few hours later we all woke up and went to brunch together. Where we ate some food and drank a bunch of Bloody Mary's. On the drive back to Angela's place a voice in my said, "OMG, that was an AWESOME NIGHT! I can't wait to do that again next week." But thankfully I had the sense to tell myself, "LION!!!! that was a one time experience. You can never do it again. If you do it just one more time, this will become a thing, and turn into a huge problem."

On our way back to Angela's apartment we stopped at the 'Diamond Inn' on Grafton St. to drink some more. At noontime. "The Diamond" was just down the street from her place. Of all of the seedy bars I've been to in my life, this is probably the scariest. The alcoholics that drank there appeared to be from a different planet. After a couple of hours of drinking there we back to Angela's where we fucked like animals again. Good puss.

I haven't, and don't plan on doing coke ever again. But MUTHAFUCKA that was a great experience that I don't regret.

[country978]

I haven't sniffed coke since 2017 but did an awful lot of it between 2015-17. I haven't had the slightest desire for a line since just now when I read your post. Not so much that I might go get some but man o' man is that a fun drug in the right situation. It becomes very dangerous when you get to be 45 or so.

The Diamond Inn used to be a mafia spot. A person or 2 got killed in a gun fight outside there one night and it was never the same. Now its kinda like this place:

[LIONINSIDE]

I haven't sniffed coke since 2017 but did an awful lot of it between 2015-17. I haven't had the slightest desire for a line since just now when I read your post. Not so much that I might go get some but man o' man is that a fun drug in the right situation.

I'm very sorry that my post caused a craving.

Just two nights ago, Jay and I were texting about my drinking. Here's part of the conversation...

Jay: "Have you spoken with Liz about addiction? She might have some valuable information."

LION: "I have obviously thought of that but I have mixed feelings about doing so. As an addict (which you wouldn't understand) even a short conversation about this shit can trigger others."

Please stay off the slopes, country.

[country978]

I haven't sniffed coke since 2017 but did an awful lot of it between 2015-17. I haven't had the slightest desire for a line since just now when I read your post. Not so much that I might go get some but man o' man is that a fun drug in the right situation.

I'm very sorry that my post caused a craving.

Just two nights ago, Jay and I were texting about my drinking. Here's part of the conversation...

Jay: "Have you spoken with Liz about addiction? She might have some valuable information."

LION: "I have obviously thought of that but I have mixed feelings about doing so. As an addict (which you wouldn't understand) even a short conversation about this shit can trigger others."

Please stay off the slopes, country.

The last time I sniffed coke I had a small amount and it sent me to bed with a racing heart. That was the end of it for me and I've never seriously considered having any since. I had a lot of fun though. I have some pretty good coke stories but its all past me now. Thank you for your concern though, brother.

[LIONINSIDE]

Random thought... Where the fuck are Trent Reznor (NIN) and Zach de la Rocha (RATM) these days????

Have they been silenced?

We need these guys. They have a hundred songs between the two of them, dating back to the 90's, describing the government corruption and predicting the shit that we've all been living through the past few years.




I might've drank a little too much Kool-Aid this morning though.

[LIONINSIDE]

My next story Mapquest to Montreal is taking awhile to write. So I'll drop a short one right here before I pack and fly back to MA tomorrow.

[CAUTION: Raw, erotic content]

I probably shouldn't post this filth, but I am convinced that I have some form of cancer and don't have a whole lot of time left.

And guess what? I don't want, and won't accept, one goddamn dime from anyone. Including family. I'm not going to live the rest of my life the way my mom did for four years. No way. Let's just get this motherfucker over with.

Jami Lafay, though. The poker community should totally rally around her and ship her the $50,000. lol, CUNT!

I understand that the readers here aren't the greatest demographic for this advice, but I'll be happy if just one person can benefit from LION'S tips on Attraction, Getting laid on first dates, and First date secks.

Re: Attraction

Smile. Not just with your mouth. With your eyes too. Your whole face. Be jolly (gay word i know). This applies to more than just picking up women. Phone conversations as well (people can sense when you're smiling over the phone.) Job interviews, gripes with supervisors over hotel curtain rods, etc. Trust me on this. You should see the normally standoff-ish black and Indian (dot) chicks light-up when I walk into Food Lion to buy my daily case of beer.

Re: Getting laid on first dates

Don't just bring a woman out to a nice restaurant, drive her home, and expect to be invited inside. Have at least one spot in mind to go afterwards if the dinner goes well (and you feel that she isn't carrying any STDs of course.) I don't quite understand the psychology, but the more places you take her, the more comfortable the girl will feel. 'Kuntmissioner' posted a nice video earlier in this thread. Which is the PERFECT place to spend the next couple of hours after dinner. A nice jazz club or soft music venue.



You're almost guaranteed to go home with the girl after sitting down for awhile listening to this type of music.

Re: First date secks

If you're interested in the girl and want to see her again, the goal is to give her the most passionate, beautiful, loving she's ever had.

Once you get nakey and are in bed, give her kisses all over her entire body (except her feet, EW!). You definitely want to hit the tickle spots like her neck and nibble on her earlobes. And you must go down south and eat her out for a little while. Avoid licking the bunghole until the 4th or 5th date, otherwise she'll think you're a fucking weirdo.

When it's GO-TIME, don't take a break to find the condom in your pants pocket in the dark. And fumble around opening the thing and getting it on your dick. MOOD KILLER. We're all just animals and sex is natural. Just go for it. I'm not a perv who meets chicks on tinder as I mentioned previously. I've been with less than 20 women in my life. Almost every one-nighter, which turned into much longer than that, have never asked me to put a rubber on, and were perfectly fine with it raw. Kind of surprising to me, but whatever. Great!

The tough part is not cumming as soon as you stick your dick in that delicious bass. So here's what the LION does....

MATH.

"369 times 43.... 1,133 divided by 16." Until I get over the hump. And then I have total control of my wiener and can pound the puss until I feel she's satisfied. Then I'll get myself going and when it's time, I'll pull out and jerk off all over her.

I should probably "burn after writing" this post. But whatever.

I'll be back in MA tomorrow night. country978, we should meet up at the Diamond Inn sometime soon, NOT do coke, pick up some bimbos, take a photo to post on PFA, and maybe be lucky enough to witness a "Dyke Fight".

[country978]

My next story Mapquest to Montreal is taking awhile to write. So I'll drop a short one right here before I pack and fly back to MA tomorrow.

[CAUTION: Raw, erotic content]

I probably shouldn't post this filth, but I am convinced that I have some form of cancer and don't have a whole lot of time left.

And guess what? I don't want, and won't accept, one goddamn dime from anyone. Including family. I'm not going to live the rest of my life the way my mom did for four years. No way. Let's just get this motherfucker over with.

Jami Lafay, though. The poker community should totally rally around her and ship her the $50,000. lol, CUNT!

I understand that the readers here aren't the greatest demographic for this advice, but I'll be happy if just one person can benefit from LION'S tips on Attraction, Getting laid on first dates, and First date secks.

Re: Attraction

Smile. Not just with your mouth. With your eyes too. Your whole face. Be jolly (gay word i know). This applies to more than just picking up women. Phone conversations as well (people can sense when you're smiling over the phone.) Job interviews, gripes with supervisors over hotel curtain rods, etc. Trust me on this. You should see the normally standoff-ish black and Indian (dot) chicks light-up when I walk into Food Lion to buy my daily case of beer.

Re: Getting laid on first dates

Don't just bring a woman out to a nice restaurant, drive her home, and expect to be invited inside. Have at least one spot in mind to go afterwards if the dinner goes well (and you feel that she isn't carrying any STDs of course.) I don't quite understand the psychology, but the more places you take her, the more comfortable the girl will feel. 'Kuntmissioner' posted a nice video earlier in this thread. Which is the PERFECT place to spend the next couple of hours after dinner. A nice jazz club or soft music venue.



You're almost guaranteed to go home with the girl after sitting down for awhile listening to this type of music.

Re: First date secks

If you're interested in the girl and want to see her again, the goal is to give her the most passionate, beautiful, loving she's ever had.

Once you get nakey and are in bed, give her kisses all over her entire body (except her feet, EW!). You definitely want to hit the tickle spots like her neck and nibble on her earlobes. And you must go down south and eat her out for a little while. Avoid licking the bunghole until the 4th or 5th date, otherwise she'll think you're a fucking weirdo.

When it's GO-TIME, don't take a break to find the condom in your pants pocket in the dark. And fumble around opening the thing and getting it on your dick. MOOD KILLER. We're all just animals and sex is natural. Just go for it. I'm not a perv who meets chicks on tinder as I mentioned previously. I've been with less than 20 women in my life. Almost every one-nighter, which turned into much longer than that, have never asked me to put a rubber on, and were perfectly fine with it raw. Kind of surprising to me, but whatever. Great!

The tough part is not cumming as soon as you stick your dick in that delicious bass. So here's what the LION does....

MATH.
ah
"369 times 43.... 1,133 divided by 16." Until I get over the hump. And then I have total control of my wiener and can pound the puss until I feel she's satisfied. Then I'll get myself going and when it's time, I'll pull out and jerk off all over her.

I should probably "burn after writing" this post. But whatever.

I'll be back in MA tomorrow night. country978, we should meet up at the Diamond Inn sometime soon, NOT do coke, pick up some bimbos, take a photo to post on PFA, and maybe be lucky enough to witness a "Dyke Fight".

Its not even the Diamond anymore. Something like Liz's place. There are better options for sure but if this is what you want then I'll go to lezbos with you. As for the cancer, I have it too. Since 2018. 3x since my initial diagnosis, the most recent in January of this year. Treatment begins in April. I don't talk about it much and would just as soon jump off a bridge before I asked anyone for a dime. Its not really a big deal until you're close to the end which I am not; or at least I've been lead to believe I have years left ahead of me.

I don't understand the whole Jami gofundme saga; begging strangers for cash and all. There's something to be said for hanging on in quiet desperation, like the British (Pink Floyd) and not seeking out the attention and sympathy of others who don't even know you. This is easy for me to say now, before the chemo starts, but for real I am super quiet about this and hardly talk about it.

[tigerpiper]

Once you get nakey and are in bed, give her kisses all over her entire body (except her feet, EW!). You definitely want to hit the tickle spots like her neck and nibble on her earlobes. And you must go down south and eat her out for a little while. Avoid licking the bunghole until the 4th or 5th date, otherwise she'll think you're a fucking weirdo.



MATH.

"369 times 43.... 1,133 divided by 16." Until I get over the hump. And then I have total control of my wiener and can pound the puss until I feel she's satisfied. Then I'll get myself going and when it's time, I'll pull out and jerk off all over her.

.

Lion I laughed out loud at both of these lines. Never experienced the 4th or 5th date scenario, but many a time (when I was younger) I avoided nutting by thinking about baseball statistics. "George Brett hit .390 in 1985 with 550 at bats. How many more hits to hit .400?" etc.

Great stories and pics. The granny bed pic was top top, too.

[LIONINSIDE]

I avoided nutting by thinking about baseball statistics. "George Brett hit .390 in 1985 with 550 at bats. How many more hits to hit .400?" etc.

Hahahaha. Thanks a lot, tiger. The next time I have sex I'll be thinking about George Brett's batting average. Hahahaha!

And, how many toothpicks were on the floor????

[SinglesHitter]

I'll square-up this thread with some more humor after my last post.

These clips are for my fellow Massholes.

Broadcaster Jerry Remy at his finest. "HERE IT COMES!!!"




And, then this gem. "HO-LEE-SHIT, we ah witnessin' a baby fuckin' wheel right here dood!"



"We gotta call tha' aquarium or sumtin' dood."

Morbid tangent, but I believe Jared Remy, Jerry’s roof head son, committed one of the most heinous acts I’ve heard of in a while and iirc it happened at a luxury apartment complex near the town that I bought first house.

He was occasionally abusing his gf (attractive brunette, sweet, etc) and one day in broad daylight he snapped, beating her and stabbing her to death, as she ran outside into the courtyard area. The neighbors tried to intervene and he knifed them and pushed them away. I believe children she had with him or with someone else, also witnessed this. Obv he got convicted of murder 1 and got sent to the super max in Shirley. I had heard he was trying hard to “fit in” at his new residence and took it upon himself to beat up a skinner (aka child molester) but he was getting soft extorted by the white shotcallers. His crime isn’t considered a “bad case”, as opposed to abuse of animals, children, elderly, any sex crime, or being a snitch. Never quite understood why it was that way, but that’s how it is in MA. So he doesn’t get forced into PC. Couldn’t believe it when I first heard of this guy being Remy’s son, as Remy is such an icon within an iconic franchise in a place where people care a lot about their professional sports teams. How could his offspring be such a devil?

Appreciate the stories. Not sure how you can drink like that WITHOUT coke, and make it through these long nights of debauchery. But kudos cuz it sounds like like could be problematic if that wasn’t the case. I happen to disagree re powder coke as a super addictive drug for everybody, within a short timeframe - and I have quite an addictive personality. Up until a few years ago, I would sniff 1-3x per year (which was about half the times I drank per year approx) and never had a problem turning it down. Back in the day, oxy got me pretty good. I still remember the night I got hooked. It was my first year taking (and holding almost 100%) of my own action and the Pats had just won the tuck rule game in the snow vs Oakland, before going on to beat the Greatest Show on Turf for their first Lombardi trophy. You can do the math on those two bloodbaths. Didn’t mean to hijack, just rambling

[LIONINSIDE]

Boom Boom Bonita (An update to the LION saga)

As the forum fags say, “TLDR”.

I started writing this story on Monday, or Tuesday. I don’t fucking remember. It’s going to have to be a two-parter because things got way weirder mid-week. I lived in Vegas for almost 20 years and have a thousand stories, but this past week has been my wildest. Crazier than banging ‘Grandma Jean’.

DoubleDown will be proud of me when he reads this tale. If you remember from a previous post, he LOVES Latina tail. Up until this weekend I had never been with a hispanic woman.

Jay’s wife tested positive for the biological weapon that is COVID last Monday. She was quarantining all last week so he sent me a text on Wednesday telling me that he had an extra ticket to The Killers show at Mohegan Sun (CT) on Friday. St. Patrick’s Day. I was apprehensive because I’m trying to dry out and not be around anybody right now. I told him I’d get back to him shortly with an answer. When he texted I was rereading this thread of my dirty life and times and saw the reply that ‘Baron Von Strucker’ put up. A video of The Killers. The song he posted felt like a sign to respond, “Yes, Jay, I will join you and your girls on Friday”.

A little background on The Killers: They’re the only good band that has ever originated in Las Vegas. Mormons believe it or not. I’ve only seen them live one other time. Also at Mohegan about 10 years ago. They put on a great fucking performance and are Jay’s daughters (age 14 and 11) favorite band. Him
and his wife take them every time they play in New England.

I love when bands throw a curveball with their set list.

After opening with ‘Sam’s Town’, then ‘Enterlude’ they went straight to ‘Mr. Brightside’. Which is their most popular song that they normally close with. It was awesome that they played it right away because it got the entire venue on our feet early.

‘All These Things That I’ve Done’ was the last song before the encore, and they closed with ‘When You Were Young’. Awesome fucking show. Awesome.

I was wired after rocking out and wasn’t ready to sleep when Jay dropped me off at my dad’s house. I went straight to the liquor cabinet above the stove and grabbed the handle of Tito’s.

That’s where this story begins. At 2am this past Saturday.

I was awake until around 6:30 am drinking vodka straight from the bottle, listening & dancing around my childhood bedroom to The Killers and eventually some Zevon to wind down. I slept until 1:45 pm and immediately started hitting the Tito’s again. All day.

Straight from the bottle, twisted again.

I was feeling very horny after seeing so many easy-looking small town sluts the night before. I had the itch. I was texting a few friends throughout the the day and this is what I sent ‘Bally Mike’ at 10 pm.

“I went to a concert last night at Mohegan Sun (casino) and there were so many easy looking chicks there. I’m all horned up and ready to hit the bars for some dirty Worcester pussy. I’m feeling BAD! It’s only $8.16 to Uber to the nearest dinge-y bar. I’m not worried about getting a ride home because I’m going to go home with the fattest, ugliest bimbo in the place if I have to.”

My Uber driver, Gabriel, picked me up at 10:24 pm according to my text log and drove me to Stafford Liquors. Where I paid 26 fucking dollars for two packs of Camel Blues! What the fuck?!?! This is double the price than in LV and NC.

Fuck. Anyway, after grabbing my smokes I walked across the street to the fancy establishment, ‘The Galway Pub’. To my dismay there were only two women in this joint who were sitting at a table with a couple of dudes. “Oh well, it’s still early”, I thought. And the Celtics game was in the 3rd quarter, so there was plenty of entertainment to be had.

After an hour or so, a group of six youngsters came in and stood right next to where I was sitting. The boozed up bartender was taking forever carding/IDing them all and I was starting to get tilted listening to the back & forth so I offered the group the corner of the bar so they could all sit down. I moved seats to the opposite side of the bar where I spotted a woman who was sitting by herself about five seats away. I’m not sure how I missed her walk in. I must’ve been in the bathroom when she arrived. She looked sad and lonely, and had a pack of Marlboro Light 100s on the bar top next to her purse.

LIONINSIDE’s #2 tip for picking up women in small towns is…. smoke cigarettes.

After a few minutes of plotting my move I shouted to her, “Hey! I’m gonna go have a smoke. Wanna join me?!?!”

It’s that simple.

We hit it off immediately. As we were standing outside she asked me if I would move her car for her. She had parked like a retard and was sort of blocking a vehicle that was trying to exit the lot. I told her, “Ehhhhh. No. They’ll figure it out.” We chatted while smoking and she told me how her dad had just passed away. Her mind/thoughts were all over the place. Poor girl. I felt so bad for her. The death of a parent is so traumatic. I gave her a sincere hug and held her close for a minute.

We went back inside after smoking and sat close to each other while I listened to her talk. I ordered another beer and she had a vodka drink. After 10 minutes the drunktard bartender came over to us and said it was time to leave. It was only 1:15am so I don’t know why he was so pushy. The Brazilian, Thais, pronounced ‘Tie-eece”, told me how she wanted to drink more but didn’t have any booze at her place. I explained to her how there weren’t any other bars or stores open in this area, but like a typical woman, she wouldn’t listen to me. So I drove her car to the pool hall on James St. like she suggested. Parked across the street and froze my ass off walking to ‘Shooters’ where the lights were off and the doors were locked. Duh. Just like I told her. So we went to her condo to fool around until the liquor store opened at 10am.

She had an interesting choice of movies to watch. When I came out of the bathroom she had ‘My Girl’ queued up. Lol. Fucking ‘My Girl’. And Macaulay Culkin being stung to death by bees. Can you believe that?!?!

After watching this heartbreaking tearjerker from the early 90’s she took me to the community laundry room to smoke. Man, I couldn’t remember this girl’s name for the life of me.

Similar to that episode of Seinfeld where Jerry can’t remember his date’s name I just called her “Tutz” and “Shoogah” and “Baby doll” all night. She loved it when I’d slap her ass and call her Tutz.

When my cigarette was down to the filter I put it out on the cement floor and touched the tip to make sure it was out before putting it in the trash bin. Thais just carelessly tossed her butt in the trashcan which I had to dig through to make sure the condominium wouldn’t burn down. Jeezus Christ. What a nut?!?!

We went back to her apartment and fooled around while watching YouTube vids and songs. I’m not a huge fan of fake tits. I’d rather play with real boobs. Even if they’re shaped like pancakes.

For the first time in my entire life my dick wouldn’t get hard. FUCK! Is this what happens after age 40?!?! Unbelievable!!! She kept telling me to put it in her but my wiener was a half-noodle. So I did my best to work around it and continued with the foreplay. Eating this delicious, hairy, Portuguese bass until the sun rose.

We got an hour of sleep. Maybe two hours. Of me clutching her so tightly and massaging her to try to alleviate the pain she was going through with all of the madness/sadness in her life.

I hadn’t eaten anything since Friday night at the Mohegan food court. Other than T’s beautiful snatch. As I write this I can still taste and smell the Brazilian pussy on my lips. I’m probably going to wake up tomorrow with pink broccoli growing on my face. Whatever.

So at 9am she drove us to the restaurant that I suggested. Livia’s Dish in Webster Square. I called first to make sure they served alcohol in the morning. Thais fucking stopped her car in the middle of Ludlow St. (didn’t even pull over to the side of the road) saying how she was dizzy and about to vomit. And needed me to drive. Fuck. Whatever. I hit the hazard light button and hopped out of the passenger seat and took the wheel.

We had a healthy breakfast: Two mimosas for Thais and I had a Budweiser and a big shot of Jack Daniels. Neither of us were in the mood for food. (Alcoholism FTW).

When her watch struck 10am we took off to the packy for a gallon of Green Apple Smirnoff, some whiskey nips, a phone charger, and more cigarettes.

During breakfast we had chatted about music. In addition to her tasty cunt she surprisingly had pretty good taste in music. We watched YouTube videos for the next few hours. MJ’s ‘Man in the Mirror’, some Cranberries, The Killers, Zevon, Shania Twain, and some dumb cowboy country song that she played about 10 times because I kept making fun of it. ‘Boot Scoot Scratchin’ or something stupid.

At some point in the afternoon her mood took a 180. Out of nowhere she repeatedly asked me to leave. Saying how she wanted to be alone. I didn’t understand what her problem was because we were having such a fun time.

“Tutz, you’re making a big mistake here. I care about you! We can be good friends and I can help you get your shit together. If I walk out this door you will NEVER see me or hear from me again.”

“Please leave. I want to be alone.”

Okie dokey. I sent for an Uber and walked to the parking lot. Holding the jug of vodka and the 12 pack of Busch like a gigantic degenerate.

I went home and laid in my bed drinking Smirnoff and started writing.

Part II, and III, of this one is coming soon. If this nut doesn’t murder me. I’m still at her condo and agreed to drive her to and from UMass in a few hours where she’s having an endoscopy procedure.

Stay tuned, folks. My next posts of this past week will be good.

[LIONINSIDE]

Prior to starting this thread I sent Druff a private message, "...I’m reaching out this morning because I am in rough shape mentally and looking for a platform to write some of my life stories, as the last time I was this low I found it therapeutic to write anonymously. With your permission I am considering making some posts in the Flying Stupidity forum to return some humor/entertainment [For the content he has put out over the years]. Please let me know if you’re ok with that. I am open to the criticism, trolling, and whatever else comes my way..."

Well, somehow my wife found this thread. Fuck me. Apparently she did some clever investigating and has been aware of this since March 12th, but didn't care or confront me since all posts have been stories from my past, and she knows that I've been trudging up a cold mountain to restore my sanity for many months and didn't want to cause me any extra stress that could trigger an avalanche. But this last Friday she hopped on the site to see if there were any updates and found my latest post about Boom Boom Bonita. Needless to say, the separation/divorce process has accelerated. I still have a number of half-written stories that I plan to finish. But for obvious reasons this will be my last post relating to current events in my life.

The Final Bender

When I woke up Friday afternoon (3/24) I reached out to my cousins Liz and Erin to see if our plans for Chink Food and Scorpion Bowls were still on for later that night at Jasmine's in Auburn. We were all looking forward to meeting up because although I had been back home in MA for a couple of weeks, I hadn't seen either of them yet. And they're both married with two kids so they don't get out too often at night. We had a blast. Shared excellent food, lots of laughs, and had some super-strong scorpion bowls. It was great catching up with them.

When Erin dropped me off at my dad's house I stayed up for awhile listening to music and drinking Tito's until I passed out. I woke up that Saturday afternoon feeling terrible. Not hungover. But extremely depressed. The gallons of hard booze I had drank over that week plus the cocktails from the night before had taken their toll on my psyche. I had so much fun at the restaurant with my cousins and felt an awful sadness thinking about how amazing of an extended family I grew up with and all of the years I had missed out on by selfishly screwing off in Vegas. And feeling like a failure for being broke and living with my father at age 41. Not to mention the guilt over my time with BBB and the sick bender I was on. I was curled up and crying in my bed when my phone sounded with a text message. I didn't even bother picking it up to see who it was for ten minutes or so because I just wanted to lay in bed in hating myself. When I finally checked the message it was from one of my high school friends, Bobby. "Me and Knuckles are headed to Troy's (dive bar) and will swing by to pick you up if you want to join us." I wasn't in the mood for any more madness so I put my phone down, pulled the covers back over my head and went back to feeling like a piece of shit. After a few minutes the boozy little devil on my shoulder told me, "Oh fuck it, LION. Don't lay in bed depressed like a pussy on this beautiful Saturday. Go out and have some fun with your friends." So I called Bobby and told him I'd be ready to be picked up in 15 minutes. They were already at the bar on their first beers at this point but Bobby was happy to backtrack to come get me.

The tiny barroom was packed when we walked in due to a "celebration of life" for a bar reg who had recently passed away. Two more of my pals showed up a few minutes later and the five of us were having a great time. I was trying to figure out how to operate the jukebox when an older woman came up to me and made some 'Top Gun' reference which I didn't understand at first. She was implying that I looked like Tom Cruise. Which is funny because I've had maybe a dozen people tell me that over the years. And very strange because I've personally never seen any resemblance whatsoever. I told her that I was flattered, but I was not in fact Tom Cruise... But that I was Tom's younger brother, a Hollywood failure, 'Todd' Cruise. The woman and my friends got a kick out of that response so that became my moniker for the rest of the day.

After a couple rounds of Southern Comfort shots, a few pitchers of cheap beer, and entertaining/flirting with the ladies I stepped outside for a cigarette. While smoking and chatting with the others who were outside I was approached from behind by a biker dude. "Hey Todd, your buddy says you might be looking for some grass." He handed me a bowl. SCORE! Similar to alcohol, I have a high tolerance for marijuana. But I hadn't smoked since moving out of Las Vegas six months prior. It looked and smelled like weed so I happily accepted the offer.

I don't know what this shit was laced with because after only two hits my legs felt like rigatoni. I handed the biker his pipe back and wobbled at a snail's pace back into the bar and carefully saddled back onto my barstool. Yowsa! I sat there for the next two hours slowly sipping my beer and doing my best to not show how fucked up I was. I had to take a leak so badly. The men's room was only 10 feet away from where I was sitting but I was certain that my legs wouldn't function properly and I would fall on my face if I tried to walk. I was afraid that I was going to piss my pants. I looked over to the biker and asked him, "What the fuck WAS that shit?!?". His response made me even more paranoid. With a gruff biker dude chuckle he replied, "Huhuhuh. Just wait 'til it kicks in."

"Oh Christ, LION. Why did you do that?", I thought. "What did you think was going to happen when hitting a bowl from this 'Dog the Bounty Hunter' looking guy? You're so dumb. You weren't fucked up enough after swimming in a sea of vodka all week??? What was in that pipe? Was is crack, meth, mushrooms, heroin, fentanyl? What's going to happen when it kick's in?!?! Motherfucker, I'm going to piss my goddamn pants." The room was spinning and the paranoia was heavy. That said, I was able to keep my composure while these anxious thoughts were racing through my mind. Had lots of laughs with my friends, the hot bartender, the biker, and the strangers that would walk past us on the way to restroom and say, "Hey, it's Todd Cruise!"


Bobby and 'Todd Cruise'


'Todd', Cuddles, Knuckles, and Abdul

Around 10pm I felt stable enough to walk a few steps. Once I made it to the men's room I took a moment to stabilize myself by holding onto the sink. I looked in the mirror and thought, "Hey.... I don't look nearly as banged up as I feel." Still couldn't find the Tom Cruise resemblance though. I kept my left hand on the sink for balance, while I held my dick in my right hand and tried my best not to urinate all over the place. It was a very long piss and I stared at the wall and had a stoned thought. "I really like bar restrooms where the walls are covered with 50 years of graffiti. The more the better. There's something special about all of the different colors, scribbles, lewd quotes, phone numbers, etc." And I wondered about the lives of the hundreds of people that created this art.

Once I relieved myself I waddled back to the bar where Bobby and Knuckles were finishing off a pitcher. It seemed like a good time to leave so we said our goodbyes and thanked the bartender for her hospitality. On the drive home we stopped at the The Galway Pub, where my bender began exactly one week prior, for one more beer before they dropped me off at my dad's house.

When I woke up the next morning I walked into the kitchen where my father was reading the newspaper. "Good morning, dad. What's up for the day?"

"What's up with YOU!", he replied in a stern tone that I had never heard from him before.

"Uhhhh. What do you mean?"

"The drinking. All the booze bottles in your room."

My father has been a daily patron at the bars around our hometown my entire life. Every. Single. Day. A functioning alcoholic of the finest degree who I've only seen drunk on one occasion. Being confronted by him was a wake-up call. I apologized and told him I would make a phone call to my cousin for assistance in cleaning myself up. I went back to my bedroom stunned because my father had never really confronted me about anything before.

I sent Liz a text telling her that I was messed up and could use some company if she was available that day. Within five minutes she was at my house and on the phone reserving a bed for me with AdCare Hospital. A detox clinic in Worcester. They estimated that it would be about 24 hours before they had any availability and said they would call me the next day. Liz stayed with me for the next couple of hours. Assuring me that I would be in good hands, describing the program and what to expect. Upon checking in I was going to have to give up my phone which would also leave me without internet access. So I spent that Sunday reaching out to my closest family & friends to let them know the situation and that I'd be in contact once I got home from detox mansion.



They didn't have a bed available by the time I was up, showered, and ready to go Monday morning. So I walked over to Liz's house where I drank all of her wine as we chatted and continued catching up. Jay and a couple of my aunts came over to visit me while I waited I for the phone call telling me they were ready to cage the LION. I was on the phone with the clinic a few different times throughout the day checking the waitlist status, going over insurance information, and answering a hundred different questions such as, "Do you currently have, or have you ever been diagnosed with Monkey Pox?"

I lol'd. "That's not a real thing," I told the lady.

I was shaking pretty badly that day so once the wine was gone we drove to the package store where I bought my final bottle. A liter of Bombay Sapphire Gin. Which I drank half of straight from the bottle, twisted again until I got the phone call I had been waiting for. We rode into Worcester around 10pm and Liz waited in the lobby until I was finished blowing the breathalyzer, pissing in a cup*, and having my vitals checked. We hugged and off I went.

From the moment I arrived I felt an incredible amount of care and empathy from all of the staff that I was greeted by. The doctors, nurses, nurse's assistants, and counselors eased any concerns I had and made me feel like I was in the right place.

They drugged me and woke me up every two hours to check my blood pressure and heart rate. Which was high/fast for the next four days. I was awoken at 7am by a man who delivered my breakfast. The food there was surprisingly good and I ate every morsel of every meal that was served. I probably gained 10 lbs. during the course of that week. After breakfast I was instructed to stand in line at the nurse's station to get my morning meds. This was the only stressful time of the day because it seemed to take forever due to the constant arguing between the residents, nurse & desk staff. One chick was a friggin' mess. "I NEED MY METHADONE! YOU DIDN'T GIVE ME MY FUCKING METHADONE!!"

"Cassy, you were woken up and given your methadone at 6am. You're not due for another dose until 10am."

"I'm crawling out of my skin here! You gave me my other meds but you DID NOT GIVE ME MY METHADONE YOU FUCKING BITCH!" Back and forth they went until the chick finally stormed back into her room. Screaming and flipping over the tables. There were a few other tantrums thrown by residents during my stay but I never felt unsafe.

After finally getting my Zoloft, Vitamin D, the Valium, and some other red pill for blood pressure I met with a counselor for my intake evaluation. I will never forget the kindness, empathy, and wisdom he shared with me as I sat there with my hands and legs trembling uncontrollably. After that meeting I spent the entire day in bed. Tired from taking Valium for the first time and wiped from drinking a shit-ton of hard liquor and cheap beer the week before.

I felt a little better each day and attended every single meeting. In between the group sessions I would spend my time chatting with my 72 year old roommate, reading, writing, and watching the beginning of the MLB season. Thursday afternoon I was laying in bed reading Bukowski when two young nurse's came to my door. I hadn't seen them before and they were wearing a different color of scrubs than the others. "Hi, we're bored. Wanna come play Jenga with us?", one of them asked.

"Sure."

They were from the local community college on an internship or whatever. One of them was wicked hot. The other was fairly cute too. We went to the community parlor and I lost the first game instantly thanks to my shaking hands. I joked how an alcoholic in withdrawal was an ideal Jenga opponent. After a few games they wanted to play cards instead and I remembered that I had suited-a-deck the night before. I found them on top of the bookcase where I had left them and saw that they hadn't been touched. So I figured I'd astonish them by performing a false-shuffle, followed by slickly fanning them out on the table in perfect order (Kd-As). They weren't as impressed as I had hoped. Oh well. We played Crazy 8's and got to know each other until the next meeting began.

Friday night I was given my last dose of Valium and I was discharged the following morning, (4/1). When my phone was returned to me I had 48 new text messages and 18 voicemails. Liz picked me up and brought me back to my father's house. I spent that weekend returning calls and sorting out my financial mess. Sunday night Liz's husband called and told me to be ready at 6:15 the next morning. His friend with 35 years of sobriety was going to pick me up and take me to a 7am A.A. meeting.

I didn't know what I was getting into. I always had a negative perception of A.A. but was ready to try whatever it took to get my act together. The Norm M. clip below pretty much sums up my previous thoughts.



I liked Pat right away. On the 20 minute ride to the mill where this meeting is held 365 mornings/yr we shared our stories and he told me what to expect. We arrived early and not long after entering the room I felt a sense of contentment that I've never known. I was always a quiet, shy, unpopular kid growing up until I discovered that alcohol suppressed my lifelong social anxiety in my late teens. I was introduced to a some guys and was greeted warmly. I sat there quietly listening to other's stories for the next hour. I felt like I belonged there. Accepted like never before. No longer special and not the only person on this island. At the end of the meeting I was approached by a few guys who introduced themselves. One of the dudes handed me a card that had about 25 hand-written names and phone numbers. He told me to call any one of them at any time if I needed someone to talk to. "If there's no answer, go to the next number. And so on. Somebody will pick up."

That first day was one of the most memorable of my life. I feel like I made 40 new BFFs in 90 minutes. While sober. I haven't missed a morning meeting since and I actually look forward to waking up every day at 5:30am to see these folks and their smiling sober faces.

I realize it sounds like I've joined a cult. But that isn't the case. There's no leader guy and the only purpose of A.A. is to help others stay clean and sober. The only requirement is the desire to stop drinking/using. There is no discrimination towards race, political views, and religion. It's not Jesus-y like I originally thought (although that is likely different down south or in other parts of the country) and there are NO profits. All of the money collected from those who drop a buck in the basket goes to rent, books, coffee, and other supplies.

Tomorrow afternoon I am flying from Worcester to Raleigh/Durham to get my Honda Civic and all of the belongings that I can fit inside of it. I'm bringing a non-drinker friend along to keep me in check in case that little devil on my shoulder returns. It should be a fun road trip back to MA and we plan to stay west of the the major cities (D.C. Baltimore, Philly, and NYC) to avoid traffic. And to avoid getting murdered. We'll probably stop for a night in the Harrisburg, PA area. Hopefully they have good cheesesteaks that far outside of Philly.

*Upon being discharged I was given a stack of papers. The tox screen was negative for all substances other than marijuana. So I guess my super-high reaction was due to being so boozed up + a lower tolerance from not smoking for 6 months. And supposedly the biker dude told Bobby that it was sprinkled with hash, which I don't believe I've ever smoked before.

So long for now. I hope to get some more stories posted next weekend once I return to MA.