The following is a guest story by my new roomdog of two and a half months, Ricardo Montebon. Is his name really “Ricardo Montebon”?
Of course not, but a lot of people from work read this site, and since he and I share the same employer, it’s
better for him to use an alias. Regardless, Ricardo and I have been friends for
about five years now, and he’s cool as shit. One of the few people I know
who are as smart as me.
Still, I’m the greatest writer that ever lived, and that gives me license to edit and/or
provide commentary on his confessions of debauchery. As such…
***
Ricardo Montebon here. To start off with, I have no idea
why Mike decided to name me “Ricardo Montebon”, unless it has something to do with the dark haired midget I keep
in my room and affectionately refer to as “Tattoo”.
The above is a misnomer, because Tattoo is female, and I had sex with her.
Quite the “Ladies Man”, is he not? Why the fuck
you think we get along so well! Think we’re gay or something?
No, I think it’s ‘cause you didn’t get pissed when my last month’s rent
check bounced.
Anyway, I’m sure he will tear this article up. But,
here goes…
I’m a thirty two year old, white, divorced southern male living in the wonderful city of Asheville,
NC. I was married for seven years, and damn, was THAT a long seven years! The first five rocked. The last two,
well, it’s amazing I didn’t go blind. Yes, I’ll admit that
I watched spanktravision anytime I thought I could get away with it, and chiefly because my ex wife, (or, as I like to put
it, my “Separatee”), turned lesbian.
Hot…
Ya see, in the backward-assed state of North Carolina, you must be separated
for one full year before you can divorce… apparently so you can have random sex with your “Separatee”…
and call her “My dirty little wifey”, before it’s final… which is exactly what I did.
So she didn’t COMPLETELY turn lesbo, huh? You
should’ve invited her and a few of her fish-eating friends over for a Separatee Gang Bang… Lesbians rule.
The other day, I was telling my newest, uh, er, uh, friend… that’s a… girl, Tits McGee,
about some of the women I’ve been with since my ex, and she thought it was pretty funny, so I thought I’d write
it up and let Mike take a crack.
Yeah, that’d be the crack of my ass.
Anyway, have you ever heard the expression, “Psycho Hose Beast”? Well, that would describe the first chick I dated to a tee. Cathy
Sue Laudermilk holds the title of Craziest Bitch I’ve Ever Met, but she almost never wore underwear, and since perpetually
seeing the top five inches of her well-manicured backyard was a plus in my book, I ignored the “crazy” for a while.
She did indeed have a nice butt, which- in my opinion- is the primary physical attribute for
feminine attractiveness. Some guys like boobs, others are into legs, some get
turned on by pouty lips or pretty eyes. Me?
It’s all about the Ba-Dunk-A-Dunk. If a girl’s got a nice
booty, chances are, the rest of her is in proportion. Words of wisdom, boys and
girls…
Oh yeah, she bought lift tickets to go skiing... which is cool... because chicks
that buy you shit are cool. I must admit that I was blinded, and mistakenly assumed
this girl was genuine. She tried to con every friend I have with beads and trinkets,
and many were equally fooled, except for THE GREATEST HUMAN BITCH DETECTOR THE WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN, Mike’s old roommate/beater
of ass, Kyle.
True dat! Kyle’s snakehead-o-meter was genetically
calibrated by MIT scientists, and he smells “oobatz” like I smell bourbon.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but the first time Kyle met Cathy Sue, he leaned over and whispered,
“I’ve gotta tell ya something.” Thirty minutes later, when
Cathy Sue went to the bathroom, he put his beer on the counter, shook his head and sighed, “That’s one fucked
up bitch ya got there, Ricardo. You’d better wear a condom…”
Did I listen? Why, hell no!!! (About the relationship, not the condom)
Yes, she talked like she had a mouth full of rocks, and yes, she was a redneck,
but her holiest of holes kept calling out to me from moist and throbbing places, and I’ve always been an “ass
man.”
Even though I didn’t FUCK her, I might’ve lost my job... and my sanity... if it hadn’t
been for Mike, and the work-related emails he saved that totally busted this bitch’s claims of sexual harassment. She eventually got fired for embezzlement, and may be doing 5 to 10 for credit card
fraud as we speak.
Score so far? Mike: 1 / Crazy Bitch: 0
Now, when a once married man is scorned, and in trouble, and horny, there’s
only one person that can assuage the sting of loneliness.
DING, DING, DING, DING!!! Tell ‘em what he’s
won, Bob! Aaaa willing Separateeeee!!!
My ex-wife, Speckles, is a crackerjack woman whose intelligence/attractiveness is matched only by her
ability to be an ultra mega BITCH!!! To give you an example, I’ll tell
a little story about the last time she came over to ask for money. (Imagine that,
a former spouse asking for money.)
It was a Friday, so guess what Mike and I were doing? Yep,
you guessed it- getting fucked up like a couple of fruit bats. Not a particularly
good scene, (because “Drunk Mike” was in effect, and there were no eligible women about), but one filled with
humor and porn and exaggerated stories nonetheless.
So Speckles comes driving up, and immediately does what she’d been doing for the last seven years… BITCHING!!! As such, I had no choice
but to turn my back and walk into the bathroom.
I’d imagine my departure was all Mike needed, because as soon as I started pissing out the first
of my eighteen or so Newcastle’s, I heard a rather drunken rendition of the theme from “Love Boat” trailing
up from our backyard deck. I doubt Speckles was amused, but I thought it was
pretty fucking funny.
The next thing I heard was my ex-wife shrieking for me to come back out, followed
immediately by a second voice mimicking her in a high pitched parody that sounded exactly like cats fucking.
‘Damn,’ I thought, ‘Mike sounds just like Speckles.’
I suspect that Ricardo’s ex-wife is now plotting my
death. But, I can’t really blame her.
I’m a total dick when I’m half in the bag, and making fun of people is what I do best.
Despite all that, when the shit went down with Cathy Sue, I immediately ran to Speckles for some much
needed comfort. That makes it okay, right?
Wrong! Wrong fucking wrong!!! At
least it didn’t cost me anything, except for two months of intense psycho-therapy… and some kinda chafing rash
around my lips and chin...
No shame in eating seafood, my friend. But
watch out for the Booty Crickets.
On a totally unrelated note, I have a dog that’s really sweet and cute- and most assuredly the
spawn of Satan. I take her to the dog park to let her run, mate, and chew shit
up… and so that Daddy can meet girls, (which is a nice way to say that I use my dog to acquire sperm depositories).
Well, my second adventure occurred after I met this hippie at the dog park from Rockford, IL. Her name was Charli, and Charli was a bad little chick! She
had one of those metal things through her bottom lip. I think they call it a
"Lambrey". And while it’s supposed to enhance the experience of fellatio,
I found it cold and somewhat unsatisfactory. I much prefer a girl with lips that
look like Mike landed a Thai Kick right on their penis holster.
Which I would NEVER do!!! For fuck’s sake,
Ricardo! Kicking chicks in the face is an atrocity I reserve only for bouncers
at the “Dew Drop Inn”.
Anyway, Charli was 25, and in school at UNCA. Pretty smart
as chicks go, but she had KANKLES! Familiar with the term? …No? Well, let me explain. She had NO ankles! Her knee went straight to her foot, no
bullshit!
As long as she had pants on, it wasn’t too noticeable because she had an ass like a ten year old
boy. Okay, what the fuck does that comment mean?
I don’t know, Ricardo… And I’m pretty sure I don’t WANNA know.
I remember watching this movie one day, and somebody said that about Jamie Lee Curtis.
Yeah, that was Bill Paxton’s character in True Lies.
But, it’s still creepy.
I do not find the ass of a ten-year-old boy at all resembling what I like to call, a “well-manicured
backyard”.
Thank fucking Christ, man! I was about to start
looking for another place to live.
Still, I’ve always wanted to use that line, and now, I have.
Congratulations!
That and a big black van will get you on the Asheville-Area Sexual Offenders’ List…
When Charli and I first started talking, I thought she was a lesbian, and rightly
decided that my 27 inch penis would have no effect on her.
27 inches… Yeah, I’ll bet.
Then one day we were leaving the dog park together, and she said, “Why don’t ya call me sometime
so we can do something?” Well, this was a couple of weeks before school
let out, probably around the last week in April, so I figured she was ripe for some final-exam-distraction. I called her on a Thursday, and we ended up doing the “weekend warrior” thing- you know, hiking,
canoeing, killing hitchhikers with chainsaws- and had a really good time.
This was a chick I probably should’ve pursued, because I tend like women
that are totally different from me. Unfortunately, she left town to spend a couple
of weeks in Illinois after school, and though we talked while she was up there, she wound up staying the entire month of May. Plus, there was this other guy who would talk to Charli at the park from time to time,
and one night, I ran into him at Scully’s.
You should’ve cut his balls off, Ricardo…
Or, at least, hired ME to do it… Fifty bucks, and the price
of a mason jar and some formaldehyde. No questions.
This walking turd had the audacity to ask me when Charli was coming back into town, and while I guess
his interest should’ve tipped me off, I didn’t immediately consider him a contender. Months later, I found myself at the dog park, again talking to the newly-returned Charli. I was trying to be funny in an awkward situation, but I don’t think she liked it when I told her
about the hooker I’d hired to have sex with me- and, for sixty dollars extra- my dog.
I vaguely remember Charli telling me about the other guy that was interested in her, (the same one I
met in Skully's}, when I looked up and saw this extraordinarily hot chick with long legs and an overall demeanor that screamed,
“I’ve just been rode hard and put away wet! FUCK ME!!!”
I glanced back at Charli’s kankles, felt my dick go limp, and immediately walked over to the long-legged
newcomer who we’ll call, Water Lilly.
This wasn’t a chance meeting, oh no. Water Lilly is
the sister of a friend of mine. She’s thirty four, (Water Lilly, not my
friend), and still has a knockout body. No shit, she weighs, like, a hundred
pounds… with long blond hair, gorgeous legs, and a great personality. The
best thing is that she admitted she was a “HO” the first night we went out by ourselves. After 7 years of marriage, that was a very attractive quality. I
think this came up when I started to pick her up and said, “Heave Ho”, and she responded with, “Don’t
heave The Ho.” Well, the next 4 weeks were great! Still, as I’ve said before, I’m an ASS man, and it was a good thing too, because this chick
had NO tits! But, damn, she could suckstart a Harley.
“Why I am not still with this chick?” you ask. Well,
I can sum that up with four bullet points.
Kid 1
Kid 2
Kid 3
Kid 4 (This one has a crackhead daddy)
I knew about Kids 1 through 3 before I met her, but only learned of Kid 4 after going out several times. As Mike says, “Everybody has baggage.”
But, that’s an ASSLOAD of baggage!
We went out a few more times, and it was fun, but the last straw was when I had to babysit. Exit, stage right.
One last thought. Just because a
chick is tiny, doesn’t mean she has a tiny vagina. Sorry, Water Lilly,
not even my 27 penis could fill THAT bottomless pit!
I don’t believe this “27 inch penis” shit for a second. I think tomorrow that I’ll “accidentally” walk in on Richard in the shower.
Moving on, there’s a big gap I’m skipping over here, during which I was spending time with
a girl we’ll call, “Social Susie”, (my next door neighbor). It
didn’t work out… because she was insane... and used to date Eminem. Social
Susie works with these fucked up kids that will one day be wards of the state. She’s
a fairly intelligent girl, but has some really oddball ideas.
Anyway, it was the weekend before my birthday, and, after going out to dinner with her, I was getting
ready to walk home, (across the street). I’d hugged Social Susie, and was
moving in to kiss her, when she pulled back and said, “Personal space, okay?”
HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!! I’ve
never endured a “diss” more unexpected or undeserved than I did that night!
Needless to say, I was livid, and decided at that moment that I wouldn’t piss on this bitch if she was on fire!
The next weekend was Bele Chere…
For those of you who don’t know, “Bele Chere” is a street festival Asheville
holds every year to show the thousands of tourists just how drunk us natives can get.
I HATE this festival, because the last time I truly took part in it, I got hit in the head with a thirty pound sausage
grinder.
(I’d haggled over the price of a hotdog with one of
the local venders, and, having no other weapon, he threw some machinery at me. Hey,
FUCK HIM!!! There was enough ground meat in that thing to feed me for the next
week. I might’ve also had sex with his wife.)
On the night in question, my friend, Toke, wanted me to go with him to a bar called “Decades”.
…Where I once hooked up with this girl who later WENT TO PRISION for six months!!!
It was my birthday, so I said, “What the hell? Let’s
go!”
I had the worst fucking time, and decided after two Newcastle’s that it was time to go. For those of you that are still in the dark, Newcastle is the greatest of all beers.
I left Decades and was driving down the road feeling pretty damn sorry for myself, when I noticed this
girl in a draping blue dress, her hair long and blond, her body chemistry obviously saturated by alcohol. I really love intoxicated woman, ‘cause that gives me an edge.
Or it gave HER an edge, ya drunk fuck! Depending
on how you wanna look at it…
I had the top off the Jeep, and
she ran over to my door and said, “Would you take me home? My ride left
me.”
