A Compilation of Stories

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Financial Issues: I'm Going to Prison

Recently my blog has been getting a lot of popularity, and I would hate to see it disappear. My subscribers have skyrocketed. I’ve been networking like crazy and it has really been paying off.

I was planning on coming back real soon once court and prison was behind me, but I had no idea I’d be going to prison for this long, well I did, but I had hope ya know? I had a very good lawyer and he led me on the entire way milking my family and I for a lot of money.

He did do a pretty good job, but he said he’d get me off on probation and instead I have to go to prison for 3 fuckin years starting July 24th, 2013. It’s not bad considering that the judge said if I don’t take the offer or if I don’t show up on the 24thbshe’ll give me the full sentence of 27 years. I heard people behind me kind of whispering “WTF, who did this kid kill”.

I have a ton of problems, but concerning the website what should I do to keep it running while I’m inside? I need some advice. Would anyone want to take the reins and help me out? Would anyone want to donate cash or advertise on my site. I have a lot of viewers way more than when I was paying constant attention to it and when I get out three years from now im going to make this site the bomb. I don’t mind sharing it with someone else in other words having two authors with seperate stories and experiences. Even if you play angel and I play demon or we both play similar parts.

Bottom line is hate to see the site shut down but if it has to shut down it has to go.

In the mean time ill try to find some ads other than the ones google offers (they say I swear too much)

Peace and Love

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Freetown, Christianshavn Denmark

By Dominick Sciarretta

In 1971 “The Forbidden City” known as Bådsmandsstræde army barracks was converted into a self sustaining community regulated by special laws that emulate the hippie movement of the mid-1960s. Freetown Christianshavn was given permission by Denmark’s government the chance to build a society from the ground up based on nine supreme laws as part of a social experiment. The town is a close-nit community that is no different from a hippie commune. Today, Freetown’s Pusher Street lives up to its name by slinging more cannabis on the down low than any other place in Europe. Veni, Vidi, Vici.

What Type of Community is Freetown?

If you ever go to Copenhagen, Denmark and you’re 420 friendly there is a unique commune you can go to within the city known as Christiana, or Freetown Christianshavn. The commune is a borough of the main city just under one hundred acres in size and contains around eight hundred residents. While many sources say Freetown is a “self-proclaimed” autonomous community that is literally its own state within a city there is nothing self-proclaimed about it. I have been to this intentional community, and if I had been murdered and buried under one of the four half pipes; the drugged out “officer” with long flowing dreadlocks (the white people kind) would surly have forgotten to launch any sort of formal investigation. I’m sure his intentions would be good like many communes, but those intentions would get lost among the powers that govern nature in an unorganized society. Leave it to hippies to forget that they too are animals of a certain species.

Communes like Freetown, Christianshavn are referred to as “intentional communities”. Intentional communities that are designed around a specific purpose. The residents within intentional communities live an alternative lifestyle. All neighbors hold similar social, political, spiritual beliefs that allow a greater social cohesion than the rest of the societies outside the community. Intentional communities thrive off teamwork. It’s not uncommon for these communities to share responsibilities, resources, and sometimes even more. In Freetown each individual hold themselves responsible for the entire community. While there are many different types of intentional communities from communes, co-households, and ecovillages to ashrams, survivalist retreats, and housing cooperative; the main intention is to share resources, live sustainably, and create family-oriented neighbors. Christianite’s objective are to become self sustaining, and they all rely on each other for everything they may need. Many intentional communities focus on living and sharing life together. Freetown does this by placing an equal amount of value on every member of the community regardless of their job, possessions, or purpose they have in the village. Their classless lifestyle lays the foundation for what they believe to be a stronger and better community and way of life.

The oldest type of intentional community is the commune. A commune is a community where its residence share common interests, property, possessions, resources, work, and income. Freetown Christianshavn is a commune that has been around for decades before anyone dubbed these social collectives as intentional communities. The “Timothy Initiative” is an intentional community that’s based around inner healing, relational restoration, and discipline for “people broken by addiction or any other darkness”. Visit “Lakehouse Tampa” for links to other intentional communities.

General Information About Freetown

Christainshaven was created in the early 1600s when a Denmark Army rampart was reinforced with the surrounding borough of Christianshavn. The area served as a military barracks under King Christian the IV and V while Denmark was at war with Sweden. During the 18th and 19th century many military structures like the ramparts were demolished except for a huge ring known as the barracks of Bådsmandsstræde.

What remained was some of the finest build defensive structures of the 16th century. After Word War II the barracks were abandoned and the area became known as “The Forbidden City of the Military”. While a few watchman continued to protect the area many homeless people still used some of the empty buildings. In 1971 a journalist named Jacob Ludvigson explored the area with five others. He wrote an article that made it into the hands of many young people declaring the area a “free town” and open for settlement.

Ludvigson saw the area as an opportunity to build his own society and incorporated many of the existing structures with new ones. Ludvigson was a co-author in Freetown Christianshavn’s missions statement that still stands to date which states, “The objective of Christiania is to create a self-governing society whereby each and every individual holds themselves responsible over the well being of the entire community. Our society is to be economically self-sustaining and, as such, our aspiration is to be steadfast in our conviction that psychological and physical destitution can be averted.”

Christianites as they call themselves are accepting of many people who cannot, will not, or choose not to cope in regular main stream society. While many of the towns problems arise from drug traffic, Christianites welcome drug addicts into their society and give them the same amount of respect as a anyone else who lives there. The people in Christiania have developed their own set of rules, independent of the Danish government. The rules forbid stealing, violence, guns, knives, bulletproof vests, hard drugs and gangs.

Many Danish believe that Freetown, Christianshavn is a success because of these self-adopted rules and their practice of equality. Today you can draw your own conclusions like the thousands of tourists, free thinkers, artists, and musicians that visit the place every year.

Copenhagen in General and Dan’s Hostel

In 2008 shortly after the new year I traveled to Denmark to draw my own conclusions about this self-sustaining autonomous society known as Freetown. I was still a pothead at the time with flowing dreadlocks of my own and in case people couldn’t smell the copious amounts of chronic I was always carrying with me they could see I was a Rastafarian doctor (the beauty of riding the rails is you could have an AK-47 with several grenades in your backpack and no one cares). I went to Copenhagen, Denmark specifically to go to Freetown, Christianshavn. If the commune didn’t exist; I would have saved going their for another lifetime.

At the time a website called “Hostel World” was a lifesaver to any backpacker on a budget. The site has a list of every hostel in any given area with descriptions, prices, and contact info so you can have some sort of idea where to stay. I searched Copenhagen for hostels on the train ride over from Berlin, Germany and listed my results from cheapest to less cheap. I could sleep on a toilet seat in a blood and semen spattered restroom at a truck stop. A five Euro a night hostel is one step above that and is totally fair game. I’ve come to learn that the only difference between a park bench and a night’s stay in the penthouse sweet of the Bellagio is two dozen beers, a half dozen shots, and medical grade marijuana.

I found a place called Dan’s Hostel which is right in downtown Copenhagen a few miles from Freetown. The name Dan’s Hostel is a misnomer because the definition of a hostel is “An establishment that provides cheap food and lodging for a specific group of people like students, backpackers, and creeps”. Dan’s Hostel was no mom and pop operation and the building was similar to a very large hotel like the Holiday Inn. It was anything but cheap for a hostel. I paid 50 Euro for one night in a shared room with two other backpackers and that price didn’t include a pillow, sheets, a towel, or internet. The showers were even coin operated per ten minutes. They already ran my credit card before I realized I got screwed and not in the good way. Someone was on drugs and this time it wasn’t me. I couldn’t sleep on a park bench because Denmark is near the arctic circle and the only difference between -10 degrees and -50 degrees is nothing. Copenhagen made me want to invest in a dogsled. I found myself forgetting about hash and instead wishing I had fur; you know like a reindeer.

When all was said and done I was paying close to 75 Euro for the night with two other dudes or dudettes. I don’t know who else stayed in that room. Once I left the only reason why I came back to the place was because check out was at 10am. I didn’t want to get charged again for another night when all I needed was a locker. Four days earlier I got drunk, lost my backpack, my passport, and everything I owned for three days. I wasn’t planning on doing that again.

Once I took a shower I went downstairs to the lobby to find out how to get to Freetown, which was in close proximity to where I was at. I wore practically everything I had which included, a hooded sweatshirt, and two jackets. I left Dan’s bullshit Hostel to figure out where the party was even though I was dressed like an Eskimo on a moose hunting expedition.

When it’s that cold outside your brain freezes and you suffer from temporary dementia. It could have been two minutes, two hours, or two days; I don’t know. When I got to Freetown I was close to hypothermic. Luckily I could still read because the only tell that I had made it to my destination was a large sign that read “Freetown”. If I’d missed it I would have died and my body would probably not have been discovered until that summer when much of the snow melted.

* Once I walked under the “Freetown” sign I was on the famous “Pusher Street”. Pusher Street is the main street that all of the other streets stem from. It acts like an artery that runs through Freetown. The first thing I saw once I made it fifty yards into the walled Freetown was burning barrels on both sides of Pusher Street as far as the eye could see. Just off to the right side of the street was a large house covered in graffiti. There were two huge red circles painted with spray paint. In the middle of one circle was a painting of a camera and the other circle had a needle/syringe broken in half. Both circles had an X painted on them. It seemed that the two most important rules to the Christianites were no hard drugs and no pictures. The point was made as I would see these same signs painted in graffiti all over the town.

As I walked deeper into Freetown I saw more people; many of them gathered around the burning barrels in an attempt to get warm. Once I started to snoop around it was on for the pushers on Pusher Street. The great thing about it was I was neither overwhelmed with drug dealers nor hundreds of different kinds of cannabis. It seemed that every dealer had three to five types of hash, not like in Amsterdam where there is so many marijuana strains you don’t know which to smoke first. I barely even remember Amsterdam for this reason. The dealers all had white boy dreadlocks known as rastas in Europe. There were about twenty different drug dealers on both sides of Pusher Street each with their own steel drum with a piece of plywood on top to serve as a makeshift table. I also noticed actual stands that a vendor would use in the United States to sell stuff like food or souvenirs at a baseball game. Instead of food five or six of these stands sold just paraphernalia from blunt wraps in every flavor to bongs and vaporizers.

After approaching about five dealers on Pusher Street I could tell they were starting to get ticked off. I think they knew I was going to buy something, but the frustration of watching me go from dealer to dealer was most likely getting on their nerves. Also, when you approach these barrels the drug dealers give you the full run down from the name and type of the marijuana the hash was made from to its effects once one were to smoke it. By the time I had walked passed all the drug dealers on Pusher Street I had seven different grams of marijuana hash and a pocket full of rolling papers, tobacco, and blunts. I also got directions to the nearest bar I could go to have a drink and roll one up.

I was super happy. However, I was not satisfied because I was unable to buy marijuana. After about thirty minutes of searching I could only find hash. It wasn’t until I got to the end of the burning barrels on Pusher Street that I was approached by an overweight man who looked Spanish and a young guy who looked like he was purebred Danish. The fat guy asked me if I needed anything. I told him I was good unless he has some leaf. I was moving at a fast pace toward the bar. I didn’t even slow down to talk to him because guys separated from the pack like this are usually just looking to rob someone. Instead I had to turn around and give him my full attention. He unzipped his jacket and revealed a large black garbage bag. The guy wasn’t fat at all. He was concealing about five large marijuana trees chopped down at the base of the stem and dried whole. I cut him 40 Euro and he cut me about a foot long section of the narcota. The other guy he was with offered me magic mushrooms, but I had to pass. I’d been backpacking for three weeks straight and I had money, but I shrooms just wasn’t on the agenda especially in a strange new place. Being an addict I asked him if he could scratch an itch for me, but he told me that no hard drugs are allowed in Freetown.

Once I found the bar I rolled up a blunt on a bench outside. The bar was really just a house. The people who owned it or rented it lived upstairs in the attic part, but the downstairs had been converted into a tavern. Usually I make a few friends by asking them if they wanted to smoke, but I couldn’t find anyone in the vicinity. Once I was ablaze I wanted to take a tour of the place. Freetown was a lot bigger than I expected. The place reminded me of a psychedelic trailer park with Alice in Wonderland graffiti just about everywhere. There were a few half pipes with apartments under the high ends. There were signs and graffiti that displayed the nine rules of Freetown around every corner. I noticed the place had a lot of parks and park benches. Many of the benches were occupied by couples all doing the same thing I was doing. While many of the houses looked like double wide trailers scattered about Freetown were a number of really old historic structures. Many of the old buildings had been there since the sixteen century. I thought the place was pretty amazing. I talked with several locals and they were extremely laid back. Many of them were tourists themselves who came to check the place out and never left.

Too be continued…  

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Been busy promoting whyamistillhere.com tips would be appreciated especially how to use twitter

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Check out my blog Sex, Drugs, Backpacking, Nightlife, Parties, Addiction, Epic Stories http://whyamistillhere.com

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"If you put too much shit in the game, the game won't be nothing but shit"

Dominick V. Sciarretta http://whyamistillhere.com

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"The only way you can call someone a snitch is with a sock and a lock or a shank because if they're really a snitch than that makes you a bitch for not doing anything about it" -Dominick V. Sciarretta

Dominick V. Sciarretta http://whyamistillhere.com

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"Lay in the clouds, Fall with the rain, Swim in the mud"

Dominick V. Sciarretta http://whyamistillhere.com

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"A Thousand Machines Will Never Be Able To Make A Flower"

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Nyepi, Bali’s Silent New Year

Want to see more photos from Nyepi? Browse the #nyepi and #ogohogoh hashtags!

In Bali, Indonesia, the Saka New Year—which this year falls on March 12—is observed by a day of silence, meditation and fasting known as Nyepi.

The holiday, while rooted in Hinduism, is observed throughout Bali province. All activities that might interfere with self-reflection are halted, including work, travel, entertaining and, for the most devout, eating and talking.

On the eve of Nyepi, negative spirits are vanquished through the Bhuta Yajna ritual. During this ritual, Ogoh-ogoh—large demonic figures constructed of bamboo and paper—are paraded through the streets and then ceremonially burned. Once purified of humans’ spiritual pollutants, the city is prepared for its day of silent reflection.

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 "There's a Grenade in My Cheesecake" is a funny story about a one night stand with a hygienically challenged female who couldn't pass potty training let alone college. Please subscribe, comment, and become a Facebook Fan visit the site for more Hilariously Epic Stories about Sex Drugs Partying Traveling and More!  Click Here To Read Story -----> http://whyamistillhere.com/theres-a-grenade-in-my-cheesecake/

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There's A Grenade In My Cheesecake

By Dominick V. Sciarretta

In 2005 I partied non-stop and had sex with all willing participants, but that all changed when I came across a cultural anomaly. Like everything else in my life I took everything to an extreme and Freshman year at Nova Southeastern University in Fort Lauderdale, Florida was no exception. I was completely free from my family and any judgements that came with living in a small town, and as usual I did nothing less than whatever I wanted. So there I was jamming to the beat of my own drum like there was no tomorrow. Gaining knowledge came easy for me so getting to class was nothing more than a social obligation and a complete joke, but the universe had a way of kicking me its own jokes from time to time.

    Warning Extremely Funny!

The content in this blog post is a 2 on a scale of 3 for grossly disturbing and if you have no sense of humor I recommend you leave, however because of how funny it is my advice is that you get over it. If you do read it and are offended I apologize, but I can assure you there was no other way around writing this post; you could say I was just in a shitty position. Thank You!

Nova Southeastern University South Florida Circa 2005

I was drunk before I even arrived at college. I had to go to orientation, but instead I snorted Xanax with some bro who would later be my roommate, got drunk, and left with a close friend who picked me up at my university. Lets call this close friend “Mary Jane” because I don’t want to reveal her name, but she sold copious amounts of marijuana and was gorgeous. Another guy Gary Patterson from Michigan who is my good friend to this day seemed to know his way around a blunt so he tagged along.

    Our orientation was led by a bunch of really hot senior girls and the “Higher Ups” oversaw them and the whole operation. While we were missing our orientation leaders called for hours on end. I picked up here and there to let them know Gary and I were alive, well, and not sober, but orientation wasn’t something we were into whether they were going to get in trouble for letting us slip away or not. In short, I made sure I told the beautiful girls who had the other “Frosh” by the balls to “fuck off”. After nearly the entire day the “Higher Ups”, whoever that entailed, got on the phone and after a very short debate they said be back by midnight. Did anybody say “Epic Win”? What I guess happened was the orientation leaders must have gotten caught out and could no longer cover for themselves or us. Two visiting freshman were missing. What they didn’t know was I wasn’t missing at all. I was found. I was sitting on Deerfield Beach with a couple beautiful girls, a new friend who was cool as shit, blowing Dro and drinking brews as the sun was setting over the Atlantic Ocean. God help them if they thought I was coming home by midnight.

My Outrageous Behavior

Once college started at Nova Southeastern University I was on this cloud that can only be described as some of the happiest and most liberating days of my life. I felt completely free. I no long had to live this double life and in some cases triple. In New Canaan, CT I had to act a certain way in front of my family. For the most part I could be myself in front of my friends, but towards the end of high school another secret life was born out of that one because I started to lose control of my life in many ways especially with using drugs and alcohol. Being three different people was too much work and going to college set me free from all of it completely. I sometimes wonder if I chose the most southern tip of Florida to go to college for the many reasons I say I did, or because subconsciously the farther from home I was the more free I thought I would be. Either way a beast was unleashed literally.

    For the most part it took about six months for me to stop drinking around the clock and going on three to four day binges, but that first six months was absolutely pissed off gorillas from that movie Congo wild. I got in trouble with people because my mouth had absolutely no filter what-so-ever, and according to some I needed to “tone it down” or I’d miss out on some really great connections. My response to that was what you’d imagine it to be, smart, arrogant, and ridiculously offensive. One morning I woke up and every “African American” wanted to whoop my ass for reasons unknown, but I was friends with Mary Jane and Mary Jane had Mary Jane, which meant that I had Mary Jane and my Mary Jane grew out of the rain, wow you have some out-ray-jus-lee-priced-coke-caine I guess we’re both going to have to get over it. I finally took that old me and like a piece of paper I thought I could just crumple him up and throw him away.

    Exhibit A

I was in the dorms my freshman year. In the freshman dorms everyone was either doing drugs, having sex, or getting drunk. The thing is when I did it, just like my mouth had no filter; my actions had no boundaries. Smoking marijuana wasn’t a drug to me. I just didn’t see it that way because it had done wonders for the countless issues I thought I had had and refused to fix the hard way. I’d been smoking pot since I was around fourteen years old incessantly. Since I had the Bangin’ connect it seemed the smoke would draw people into my dorm room from all over campus. Yes, instead of smoking outside I’d smoke chronic right there in my dorm drunk as fuck at all hours of the day against one of my roommates wishes because feelings are over rated and so was the law.

    Many of the kids would band together to pre-game (see “How Heroin Entered My Life”), but I’d already have pre-gamed for that pre-game. Once again if you click the link “How Heroin Entered My Life” it all had to do with how messed up of a person I was. I lacked coping skills, and I had this personality type that is common among many drug addicts where it’s either all or nothing. I could either care what people said about me, or I could get annihilated and act the way I wanted.

    “Mansions” Nightclub in South Florida Miami and Popular Destination for a Saturday Night

It didn’t take long before people realized I was, how do you say, “special” and in college it gets you props, but once again that fucking filter always got me into a lot of trouble. In South Florida most parties were at the bar, nightclub, or lounge and pissed off classmates don’t bounce too so if I wanted to go somewhere there was no stopping me. It wasn’t long before I sniffed out the pill poppers, the coke dealers and the people who did the harder drugs, but when everyone started drinking on Tuesday and woke up Wednesday afternoon; I was no where to be found. When money was good I’d be at a nightclub in Fort Lauderdale or South Beach, when it was mediocre I’d be at Beach Place or a strip club, and eventually when things got rough I’d be in the ghetto or the trailer park drinking and doing drugs with the “esés”.

    Eventually I calmed down. What that meant is I’d skip a few days of the usual only to save cash, fluids, necessary nutrients, to go out again for an unusual amount of days (see Binging). When people get older they usually start saying they can’t do this shit anymore and that they have to slow down, but like a marathon runner training for the big race I’d go out for two, three, four days at a time and never let up. Since I was always on the “Hustle” tip I could turn something out of nothing. Making money in college was easy, but never easy enough to keep a starving drug addict fed. Since I would go to any length to get what I wanted while others could do without it made it very easy for me to procure things people wanted and couldn’t get. For every suburb there was a side street and for every five rich pricks there was one poor bastard Grindin‘. Five years into the future I became that poor bastard without a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of.

I Interviewed Roommates

Everyone at Nova Southeastern University is assigned one, two, or three roommates. When I first got to orientation before I bounced out of there I did a few interviews because I’d rather pick my roommates than get stuck with a few herbs. The interviews were pretty straight forward and I just wanted to make sure my roommates were cool with the college triathlon; drinking, drugging, and screwing. One of the interviewees was more than down with blowing Dro, (marijuana that is grown hydroponically which is a soil less set-up where nutrients are delivered to the plant’s roots via water) he had some. After smoking he crushed up a few Xanax Bars and a few rounds of Adderall. When I told him I was ditching orientation because I had a friend picking me up; he gave me a care package.

    He was a shoe-in for my roommate and considering most college freshman are down with the triathlon, we found a third cat named Blair. The guy said he was down with A, B, and C, but in reality living with him ended up being one of the biggest mistakes I’d made my freshman year of college. His head was gassed up and he was extremely narcissistic. He also had Only Child Syndrome combined with being gigantic left you with one seemingly Roided out dude with small balls. One night I let him know it, and I lost blood for it (story for another time).

    At times however we did get along and since Gunnar had a girlfriend that he didn’t actively seek women to cheat on her with, we became occasional wing men. Blair had a girlfriend too, but she was more like his mom, maid, and slave who cleaned up after him and did his homework on command because she was absolutely petrified of him. Gunnar wouldn’t cheat on his girlfriend if he had to leave his bed and many times at Nova Southeastern University you didn’t have to leave your bed to get laid. This is how I got into some shit.

A Pleasant Surprise

Exhibit B

It was probably my eighth or ninth day of college and I was breaking all sorts of personal records, but I was dragging ass because I had not rested since I’d gotten to college at all. I laid in my bed and drank rum straight from the bottle. Gunnar and I were anxiously waiting for this girl named Lauren to come screw Blair, and we were going to listen and watch best we could with the lights turned off. Typical roommate shit that kind of stuff. For the record our room was a 15′ x 20′ square box with a single and two bunk beds so Lauren had no choice but to be a good sport. She was. Blair had done this to Gunnar and I with the Lindsey Twins our first three nights of being roommates when we barely knew each other. I could hear him giggling as I wrestled with the tiny single mattress that didn’t feel like a single at all. The fuckin thing seemed to be getting smaller as the sex got steamier. You might think you know what Miami Heat is, but if you’re thinking about sweaty guys then you’re buying the wrong tickets. After something like that Blair, Gunnar, and I were straight Bona-Fide hommies even when we did cross each others boundaries. I still would eventually regret living with Blair that fuckin narcissistic son-of-a-bitch.

    There is a knock at the door and Lauren just lets herself in cause this session has apparently been planned in advance. Behind her is this Polish chick I’ve seen around campus named Brittany who walks straight towards me and sits on my bed. Brittany must have put out and APB on me and since Lauren had an in; Brittany figured why not? This also could have been a tactic on her part for getting four eye balls off her and Blair. All I care to mention at this point in the story is that Brittany must have been overly excited…

    Brittany is a nice looking girl and she was tall with beautiful long legs. I was drinking rum. It wasn’t long before I was imagining those twist ties around my face and spinning them closed. In fact, I think from the moment she sat on my bed it was fifteen seconds because I was already feeling the Miami Heat game and soon we were laughing, touching, kissing…lights out. Game on, or should I say over?

    What this girl did with her mouth was unreal, and while many guys would have just sat back and relaxed that just was not my style. I like to give just as much as I like to receive if not more. I like to give long and hard and not just in one spot because a woman has an entire body to celebrate. If she is not pushing you to where you’re teasing. If she is not squirming, begging, or squealing before; you have sex… Then how will you ever be so great big guy?

    There are exceptions. Like experimenting or just learning new things through trial and error. Where I screw up many times, but make up for it where I can is I get overly excited because I bagged a big fish metaphorically speaking and in other words she’s so hot I’m so anxious to please I’m screwing imaginary holes or trying to make new ones. This was none of those times. Nevertheless I was having a great time, and I wanted to milk it for all it was worth just like every other experience in my life. Then I reached her belly button.

    Call me gross, but I’ve come to realize I’m gross. When I’m turned on by someone I enjoy the natural scene and taste of them. It’s beautiful and raw and unadulterated like fresh cut sugar cane or a watermelon you just picked on a hot summer day. It doesn’t have to be altered in any way for you to enjoy it; for it to turn you on. I’m as gross as sin is natural.

Hygienically Challenged Female

When I got below Brittany’s belly button her smell stopped me dead in my tracks. Someone or something had died between her legs. It smelled like carrion. Actually it was worse because you could have used this smell to deter a starving vulture from eating roadkill. I heard this word only a few times in my life and I’m going to use it to describe the intensity of my amazement. I think it’s called flabbergasted. I was flabbergasted out of my mind as to what would make a woman smell like that and it gets worse!

    Who has ever been in this exact position where you start going down, but come right back up and then you have to play it off? Yes that is what I did. Now guys this was an amateur move I guess on my part because us guys have what we call the finger test. In the heat of the moment when you girls aren’t looking prior to going down we’ll take a whiff of our finger, oh yeah, we will. This simple test could have saved me a tremendous amount of would be embarrassment if she wasn’t so into it at the time. What bothered me after thinking about it is she was going to let me do it! If I got something going on between my legs, say I just got back from the gym or something, which would never happen because I hate the gym, but lets just say it did; I would stop you. Not because I’m a nice guy, but because you have friends that I most likely will want to bang in the future. Brittany wasn’t exactly the pick of the litter after this happened, but not because of me. It gets even worse.

    It gets even worse because not only is the Miami Heat cramping my style, but the sweat is making the smell is getting caught in the humidity and it is sticking, oh yeah. Finally I’m like let me just get this over with and nail this girl and I’ll go get some penicillin tomorrow. Right when I’m about get it in she stops me. She was panting like a straight dog, but it was her cat that had the nasty ass breathe. She reaches into her purse and opens this packet the size of a saltine cracker and pulls out this little rubber hat and places it over my soldier creating a seemingly un-penetrable barrier between us. I thought surly if I had entered her without this hat my dick would have fell off. Why else would her doctor have prescribed her these. I thought back to Saxe Middle School all the way in my small far away town of New Canaan, CT. How I faintly remembered learning in health class about “these types” of people and hats. I should have fucking paid attention instead of trying to get L.N. to give my salami a B.J. (true story my memory is mint you can’t make any of this up).

  “My gosh STDs are real!” I pondered as I felt the rum in the back of my throat.

  “I’m a small fish in a big lake now. I need to be more careful. I wonder if my drug dealer can get me some of these hats.” I thought to myself as I pounded away.

  I was in dreamland the land you go to when you want really bad sex to be over. Suddenly I was jolted away by something very real and a very familiar smell. The sweat from the Miami Heat game was pooling where we’d both entered each other compounded with the lubrication from the protective hat that her doctor had given her created a steam so smelly and so potent that it belongs in a Resident Evil flick. The smell in the form of tiny beads were rolling of my face and down my chin, around my nose and upper lip. I dare not taste. The harder I pounded to try and finish the race the more I could feel the rum being shaken in my near perfect gut. I could pound that entire bottle of rum to my face, a thirty pack of beer, a roll or two, an eight ball, and an oz of weed and never in a million years did I imagine I’d vomit while having sex. I began to get nauseous. Oh No! I started to panic. The walls began closing in on me and I started tripping. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours.

    Then I was saved by a distraction. It was Gunnar in the bunk above me listening to both me and Blair go to P-Town. Gunnar could smell the nauseating sex from the top bunk and was both dry heaving and laughing. I looked to my left to see if Blair noticed anything, but I could see a silhouette of a double digit number. There was no way he could smell what was going on out here I couldn’t even see his head in the shadows on the wall. How could he breathe I thought? I want to be able to not breathe, but not like this like that! I was immediately pissed. I wanted to start an interrogation. Who put you up to this? Was it Blair? Was it the both of them? Was it someone outside this room? Good God what’s wrong with this girl Lauren take her out back and put her down! If she really is your friend that is not a good look!

Must Have Clean Water

This advertisement couldn’t have said it any better, “A Clean Beaver Always Finds More Wood.”

Just then I came up with a plan. I forced myself to reintroduce my lips to the upper half of this girls body. I tried convincing her to have shower sex with me. She seemed hesitant, but I can be very persistent. I suddenly started making noises. I began huffing and puffing at Blair and Lauren like they were clearly the problem. It didn’t matter because they couldn’t hear anyway I dubbed their version of 69 the reverse praying mantis because it looked like her twat was eating my roommates head. She got the hint that those two were some pretty sick bastards, and we needed to separate ourselves.

    When we got into the bathroom I turned on the shower and this girl bent over the sink face down ass up. She wanted it from behind. Just a moment ago we were doing slightly different variations of a face to face position, but nothing too crazy because I didn’t want to stir up the pond water. The problem was I did not want to take her from behind. I’d have taken her any way she wanted, but in the shower after I soaped her up whether she got offended or not I do not care. For whatever reason this girl must have been allergic to water because she didn’t want to take a shower with me, and she smelled like she hadn’t taken one in a year. What I had gotten myself into I have no idea. I felt like I was trying to force feed a two year old green beans for Christ Sake! Just get in the fuckin shower you smelly filthy Polish bitch! I was losing my patience.

    I bent her over the bathroom sink and screwed her in front of this gigantic mirror the entire length of my wall. The scene was an utter nightmare because as I’m tappin’ that ass with every stroke this foul smell is wafting up toward my face. What’s even worse is now she can see my expression as I’m pumping away at her with my head cocked far to the side and leaning back as far as possible like I was whispering to a ghost behind me and to the left. It must have looked ridiculous.

    Then as my stomach muscles could no longer take the awkward position, and I had to give up dodging her complete and utter foulness I realized what she smelled like. She must have forgot to wipe her ass! That was it. I couldn’t believe it in all my years. A pretty girl that not only shits, but forgets to wipe her ass on her way into my bed when she knew she was going to fuck me. The real question is did she just get so excited that she forgot to wipe, or when she was sitting in my bed she realized she was going to fuck me and the excitement caused a squirt? My older brother is a trauma surgeon and I rack his brain with riddles like this all the time. I had so many questions. Was it out of love and the excitement, or was it for spite? Maybe I banged her sister and came in her face against her will? What on Gods green Earth had I ever done to deserve this? On Judgement Day I’m going to have so many questions and this is not going to be anywhere near the top of the list, but it will be on that list.

    For whatever reason once I realized it was shit and not an STD I took off this stupid little hat. Her doctor should have just prescribed her some baby wipes or wet ones. When you have raunchy sex your dick comes into contact with shit all the time just not outside of the anus. Without the hat I regained my stiffness giving her all I had in hopes of getting this thing over with and taking home an important lesson. However, I just couldn’t get over the smell. She was screaming and jamming around the Rosary, but there I was watching myself in the mirror dry heave over her back. Once the dry heaving got bad enough where I was re-taking shots of the rum I’d drank I had to stop.

What Happened After

I couldn’t even look at her I just jumped in the shower. I felt like a pig that had been rolling around in my own filth and in reality I was. While I took that long shower of shame I became angry. I was so angry at Lauren for having brought that girl into my room. Then I became scared like what the fuck was that? That shit actually exists? Who does that? I really couldn’t wait to call my brother and I’m dead serious I did call him. I asked him these exact words, “Bro, what do you think was wrong with her?” Get This! Do you believe this guy; a doctor, tells me, “She probably was just a dirty bitch and didn’t wipe her ass?” What The Fuuuck! A surgeon! There had to be some sort of better explanation than that right? I’m right, right? Hydrophobia? Maybe her whole family died in the shower and she’s scared to take them? Give me an answer God please!

    When I got out of the shower I knew I had work to do. I only had one pair of sheets so was going to have to do laundry. More importantly I needed to find out who baked a grenade into my cheesecake because in college this is what we call organized crime. I busted down the door to my bathroom as violently as possible to let everyone know I meant business. Steam came billowing out like I had just hopped out of the dish washer and in many ways it was just like that, but like a new pair of white Uptowns after a rainstorm I would never be totally clean ever again.

    I flicked on the light and Gunnar was already laughing. I’m not even sure if he had stopped laughing because while Blair was suffocating himself Gunnar knew exactly what was going on both visually and aromatically. I decided to take on the tone of a infuriated Drill Sargent, “STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” I could of swore I heard a noise similar to a cork being popped out of a wine bottle when Blair took his head from between Lauren’s legs, but I wasn’t focused in on it really. They both looked at me like I was wasted again or something and were about to go back to what they were doing. This time with my eyes bulging out of my head I walked toward where they were with purpose and in a stern loud voice said, “No! Stop that! Stop doing that!” I was just about to wrestle them apart when I noticed something wallowing in my bed. Pigs wallow.

    Brittany was sleeping in my bed spread eagle. For a second my mind flashed to an image of a cucumber being turned into a pickle. Then my concern returned back to the girl in my bed who I now realized not only lacked hygiene, but the ability to detect the most basic of social cues. I didn’t even know what to think. By the way Gunnar was laughing I began to think he had put her up to this, but how does one make a woman not wipe her ass? Was she like pledging for a guys fraternity or something? I don’t know. Something was going on and as soon as she got out of my room I was going to get to the bottom of it.

    I told Brittany without any remorse that she needed to leave. To be honest this girl could have been a cross between Angelina Jolie and Jenna Jameson with a cunt that smelled and tasted like cotton candy. I was in college. I had Vanilla Dutches to crack. There were seeds to sow with other females that aced potty training. I had a girl who was a friend that would later become my first serious girlfriend on the floor below me that I would end up hanging out with later on that night while my sheets got washed. When I told Brittany to leave she actually copped and attitude with me and asked me if I was serious. I was like no lets cuddle after you refuse to shower regardless of the fact that the second you leave I’m going to clean everything in this room that you touched. I wouldn’t have even known her name if she wasn’t the Stephen King novels of one night stands. Have any of you guys ever been to South Florida in the summer? Toilet paper shouldn’t even exist because it is so hot you need a shower. No one touches each other unless they’re at the beach in bathing suits I don’t care if you’re newly wedded. The whole region of South Florida is like living on someone’s Grundle. Most people take two showers a day. It’s the truth.

    Once she left I was so flustered I couldn’t even talk. I didn’t know where to start, but Lauren and Blair made it easy because they sat there like two Mormons looking at each other saying, “Oh my God you smell that? Where is that coming from?” Hello!

    “Lauren are you fucking kidding me? That’s your friend that you so graciously blessed me with this evening.” While I am saying this and from the moment Brittany left I was peeling the soaking wet sheets off of my bed. This is actually when I made the phone call to my older brother explaining the entire situation to him in front of them. The guys and even Lauren who was fairly reserved were cracking up, but you could tell Lauren was really grossed out. She did the smartest thing I’d seen anyone do and grabbed Blair’s foot spray to hit the room. We stopped her and all three of us went to our drawers and Axe Bombed our own room. When we were finished I threw Lauren the fuck out.

“…But The Memory Remains”

Over the next couple days word got around that some Polish chick named Brittany did the impossible; she desecrated having sex in a freshman college dorm room. Instead of me telling anyone about it though I was the last person to do so. Chicks do what chicks do and from the moment Lauren got the boot from my room instead of going to look for Brittany she went and hung out with every person who was not Brittany to inform them about what happened. That is one thing I do not understand about women sometimes. This case doesn’t count because Lauren and Brittany knew each other for just under ten days and Brittany made Lauren look as shitty as she did, but in a metaphorical “I just threw you a bone in a literal” type of way. I’d do the same thing if I asked a friend to make a tricycle date a double date upon his request, and when I went to the bathroom he roofied both of them. For reasons unknown he would ruin both dates and I would look like the asshole (and most likely kill him).

    For weeks I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened to me. Why did it happen to me? I felt violated. Sometimes I get anxiety and these racing thoughts during sex and I swear I can smell her and then I look around and realize I’m just taking a shit somewhere all alone. A couple times a year it will still come up in my sessions. What happened to me nearly nine years ago I would love for one of my friends to experience, but do you know how hard it is to find a willing participant not wipe her ass for a week? So far just my one in God knows how many millions. AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL LUCKY?! All I can do now is the “Pre-Finger Test” and watch a healthy dose of “Two Girls One Cup” once or twice a week to keep the nightmares at bay in hopes of getting used to shit like this.

Conclusion Comments Questions

That is the end of another one of my Hilariously Epic Stories from the one and only. I had a great time reminiscing about it, and I hope you had an equally great time reading it. What did you think of this blog post? Did you find it offensive at all? What was it like for you when you were in college? Have you had a similar experience? The guys have the finger test to see if the female is palpable, but what am I missing girls or do you just roll the dice? On a scale of 9 to 10 how ridiculous was that last question 9 being very ridiculous and 10 being crazy stupid ridiculous?

    I’ve been getting a lot of positive feedback via E-mail and Facebook, and I really appreciate it, but if you could please use the comment boxes it would be a lot better in determining which posts drew the most attention. I’m thinking about putting a kibosh on responding period unless it’s via and approved source. I’ve recently been adding questions to the end of my blog posts to engage my readers as well. I have gone back to revise some posts if you care to respond to some of the questions I’ve posted see “Opium Mar Nightclub: Barcelona, Spain” or “Addicted: Birds of a Feather“. I also added pictures to “Destination Prague: A Gothic Romance” and the pics have really made the post ten times better so check it out.

    If you enjoyed this blog post here are some others I know you will like:

“Cross Country Stabbing (Part 2)”

“My Trip To Peru”

Please remember to follow me on Twitter @WhyStillHere and join my Facebook Fan Page for behind the blog bullshitting and commentary. Thank You!

Las Olas Downtown Fort Lauderdale, Florida Circa 2005

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New Post has been published on Why Am I Still Here?

New Post has been published on http://whyamistillhere.com/theres-a-grenade-in-my-cheesecake/

There's A Grenade In My Cheesecake

By Dominick V. Sciarretta

In 2005 I partied non-stop and had sex with all willing participants, but that all changed when I came across a cultural anomaly. Like everything else in my life I took everything to an extreme and Freshman year at Nova Southeastern University in Fort Lauderdale, Florida was no exception. I was completely free from my family and any judgements that came with living in a small town, and as usual I did nothing less than whatever I wanted. So there I was jamming to the beat of my own drum like there was no tomorrow. Gaining knowledge came easy for me so getting to class was nothing more than a social obligation and a complete joke, but the universe had a way of kicking me its own jokes from time to time.

    Warning Extremely Funny!

The content in this blog post is a 2 on a scale of 3 for grossly disturbing and if you have no sense of humor I recommend you leave, however because of how funny it is my advice is that you get over it. If you do read it and are offended I apologize, but I can assure you there was no other way around writing this post; you could say I was just in a shitty position. Thank You!

Nova Southeastern University South Florida Circa 2005

I was drunk before I even arrived at college. I had to go to orientation, but instead I snorted Xanax with some bro who would later be my roommate, got drunk, and left with a close friend who picked me up at my university. Lets call this close friend “Mary Jane” because I don’t want to reveal her name, but she sold copious amounts of marijuana and was gorgeous. Another guy Gary Patterson from Michigan who is my good friend to this day seemed to know his way around a blunt so he tagged along.

    Our orientation was led by a bunch of really hot senior girls and the “Higher Ups” oversaw them and the whole operation. While we were missing our orientation leaders called for hours on end. I picked up here and there to let them know Gary and I were alive, well, and not sober, but orientation wasn’t something we were into whether they were going to get in trouble for letting us slip away or not. In short, I made sure I told the beautiful girls who had the other “Frosh” by the balls to “fuck off”. After nearly the entire day the “Higher Ups”, whoever that entailed, got on the phone and after a very short debate they said be back by midnight. Did anybody say “Epic Win”? What I guess happened was the orientation leaders must have gotten caught out and could no longer cover for themselves or us. Two visiting freshman were missing. What they didn’t know was I wasn’t missing at all. I was found. I was sitting on Deerfield Beach with a couple beautiful girls, a new friend who was cool as shit, blowing Dro and drinking brews as the sun was setting over the Atlantic Ocean. God help them if they thought I was coming home by midnight.

My Outrageous Behavior

Once college started at Nova Southeastern University I was on this cloud that can only be described as some of the happiest and most liberating days of my life. I felt completely free. I no long had to live this double life and in some cases triple. In New Canaan, CT I had to act a certain way in front of my family. For the most part I could be myself in front of my friends, but towards the end of high school another secret life was born out of that one because I started to lose control of my life in many ways especially with using drugs and alcohol. Being three different people was too much work and going to college set me free from all of it completely. I sometimes wonder if I chose the most southern tip of Florida to go to college for the many reasons I say I did, or because subconsciously the farther from home I was the more free I thought I would be. Either way a beast was unleashed literally.

    For the most part it took about six months for me to stop drinking around the clock and going on three to four day binges, but that first six months was absolutely pissed off gorillas from that movie Congo wild. I got in trouble with people because my mouth had absolutely no filter what-so-ever, and according to some I needed to “tone it down” or I’d miss out on some really great connections. My response to that was what you’d imagine it to be, smart, arrogant, and ridiculously offensive. One morning I woke up and every “African American” wanted to whoop my ass for reasons unknown, but I was friends with Mary Jane and Mary Jane had Mary Jane, which meant that I had Mary Jane and my Mary Jane grew out of the rain, wow you have some out-ray-jus-lee-priced-coke-caine I guess we’re both going to have to get over it. I finally took that old me and like a piece of paper I thought I could just crumple him up and throw him away.

    Exhibit A

I was in the dorms my freshman year. In the freshman dorms everyone was either doing drugs, having sex, or getting drunk. The thing is when I did it, just like my mouth had no filter; my actions had no boundaries. Smoking marijuana wasn’t a drug to me. I just didn’t see it that way because it had done wonders for the countless issues I thought I had had and refused to fix the hard way. I’d been smoking pot since I was around fourteen years old incessantly. Since I had the Bangin’ connect it seemed the smoke would draw people into my dorm room from all over campus. Yes, instead of smoking outside I’d smoke chronic right there in my dorm drunk as fuck at all hours of the day against one of my roommates wishes because feelings are over rated and so was the law.

    Many of the kids would band together to pre-game (see “How Heroin Entered My Life”), but I’d already have pre-gamed for that pre-game. Once again if you click the link “How Heroin Entered My Life” it all had to do with how messed up of a person I was. I lacked coping skills, and I had this personality type that is common among many drug addicts where it’s either all or nothing. I could either care what people said about me, or I could get annihilated and act the way I wanted.

    “Mansions” Nightclub in South Florida Miami and Popular Destination for a Saturday Night

It didn’t take long before people realized I was, how do you say, “special” and in college it gets you props, but once again that fucking filter always got me into a lot of trouble. In South Florida most parties were at the bar, nightclub, or lounge and pissed off classmates don’t bounce too so if I wanted to go somewhere there was no stopping me. It wasn’t long before I sniffed out the pill poppers, the coke dealers and the people who did the harder drugs, but when everyone started drinking on Tuesday and woke up Wednesday afternoon; I was no where to be found. When money was good I’d be at a nightclub in Fort Lauderdale or South Beach, when it was mediocre I’d be at Beach Place or a strip club, and eventually when things got rough I’d be in the ghetto or the trailer park drinking and doing drugs with the “esés”.

    Eventually I calmed down. What that meant is I’d skip a few days of the usual only to save cash, fluids, necessary nutrients, to go out again for an unusual amount of days (see Binging). When people get older they usually start saying they can’t do this shit anymore and that they have to slow down, but like a marathon runner training for the big race I’d go out for two, three, four days at a time and never let up. Since I was always on the “Hustle” tip I could turn something out of nothing. Making money in college was easy, but never easy enough to keep a starving drug addict fed. Since I would go to any length to get what I wanted while others could do without it made it very easy for me to procure things people wanted and couldn’t get. For every suburb there was a side street and for every five rich pricks there was one poor bastard Grindin‘. Five years into the future I became that poor bastard without a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of.

I Interviewed Roommates

Everyone at Nova Southeastern University is assigned one, two, or three roommates. When I first got to orientation before I bounced out of there I did a few interviews because I’d rather pick my roommates than get stuck with a few herbs. The interviews were pretty straight forward and I just wanted to make sure my roommates were cool with the college triathlon; drinking, drugging, and screwing. One of the interviewees was more than down with blowing Dro, (marijuana that is grown hydroponically which is a soil less set-up where nutrients are delivered to the plant’s roots via water) he had some. After smoking he crushed up a few Xanax Bars and a few rounds of Adderall. When I told him I was ditching orientation because I had a friend picking me up; he gave me a care package.

    He was a shoe-in for my roommate and considering most college freshman are down with the triathlon, we found a third cat named Blair. The guy said he was down with A, B, and C, but in reality living with him ended up being one of the biggest mistakes I’d made my freshman year of college. His head was gassed up and he was extremely narcissistic. He also had Only Child Syndrome combined with being gigantic left you with one seemingly Roided out dude with small balls. One night I let him know it, and I lost blood for it (story for another time).

    At times however we did get along and since Gunnar had a girlfriend that he didn’t actively seek women to cheat on her with, we became occasional wing men. Blair had a girlfriend too, but she was more like his mom, maid, and slave who cleaned up after him and did his homework on command because she was absolutely petrified of him. Gunnar wouldn’t cheat on his girlfriend if he had to leave his bed and many times at Nova Southeastern University you didn’t have to leave your bed to get laid. This is how I got into some shit.

A Pleasant Surprise

Exhibit B

It was probably my eighth or ninth day of college and I was breaking all sorts of personal records, but I was dragging ass because I had not rested since I’d gotten to college at all. I laid in my bed and drank rum straight from the bottle. Gunnar and I were anxiously waiting for this girl named Lauren to come screw Blair, and we were going to listen and watch best we could with the lights turned off. Typical roommate shit that kind of stuff. For the record our room was a 15′ x 20′ square box with a single and two bunk beds so Lauren had no choice but to be a good sport. She was. Blair had done this to Gunnar and I with the Lindsey Twins our first three nights of being roommates when we barely knew each other. I could hear him giggling as I wrestled with the tiny single mattress that didn’t feel like a single at all. The fuckin thing seemed to be getting smaller as the sex got steamier. You might think you know what Miami Heat is, but if you’re thinking about sweaty guys then you’re buying the wrong tickets. After something like that Blair, Gunnar, and I were straight Bona-Fide hommies even when we did cross each others boundaries. I still would eventually regret living with Blair that fuckin narcissistic son-of-a-bitch.

    There is a knock at the door and Lauren just lets herself in cause this session has apparently been planned in advance. Behind her is this Polish chick I’ve seen around campus named Brittany who walks straight towards me and sits on my bed. Brittany must have put out and APB on me and since Lauren had an in; Brittany figured why not? This also could have been a tactic on her part for getting four eye balls off her and Blair. All I care to mention at this point in the story is that Brittany must have been overly excited…

    Brittany is a nice looking girl and she was tall with beautiful long legs. I was drinking rum. It wasn’t long before I was imagining those twist ties around my face and spinning them closed. In fact, I think from the moment she sat on my bed it was fifteen seconds because I was already feeling the Miami Heat game and soon we were laughing, touching, kissing…lights out. Game on, or should I say over?

    What this girl did with her mouth was unreal, and while many guys would have just sat back and relaxed that just was not my style. I like to give just as much as I like to receive if not more. I like to give long and hard and not just in one spot because a woman has an entire body to celebrate. If she is not pushing you to where you’re teasing. If she is not squirming, begging, or squealing before; you have sex… Then how will you ever be so great big guy?

    There are exceptions. Like experimenting or just learning new things through trial and error. Where I screw up many times, but make up for it where I can is I get overly excited because I bagged a big fish metaphorically speaking and in other words she’s so hot I’m so anxious to please I’m screwing imaginary holes or trying to make new ones. This was none of those times. Nevertheless I was having a great time, and I wanted to milk it for all it was worth just like every other experience in my life. Then I reached her belly button.

    Call me gross, but I’ve come to realize I’m gross. When I’m turned on by someone I enjoy the natural scene and taste of them. It’s beautiful and raw and unadulterated like fresh cut sugar cane or a watermelon you just picked on a hot summer day. It doesn’t have to be altered in any way for you to enjoy it; for it to turn you on. I’m as gross as sin is natural.

Hygienically Challenged Female

When I got below Brittany’s belly button her smell stopped me dead in my tracks. Someone or something had died between her legs. It smelled like carrion. Actually it was worse because you could have used this smell to deter a starving vulture from eating roadkill. I heard this word only a few times in my life and I’m going to use it to describe the intensity of my amazement. I think it’s called flabbergasted. I was flabbergasted out of my mind as to what would make a woman smell like that and it gets worse!

    Who has ever been in this exact position where you start going down, but come right back up and then you have to play it off? Yes that is what I did. Now guys this was an amateur move I guess on my part because us guys have what we call the finger test. In the heat of the moment when you girls aren’t looking prior to going down we’ll take a whiff of our finger, oh yeah, we will. This simple test could have saved me a tremendous amount of would be embarrassment if she wasn’t so into it at the time. What bothered me after thinking about it is she was going to let me do it! If I got something going on between my legs, say I just got back from the gym or something, which would never happen because I hate the gym, but lets just say it did; I would stop you. Not because I’m a nice guy, but because you have friends that I most likely will want to bang in the future. Brittany wasn’t exactly the pick of the litter after this happened, but not because of me. It gets even worse.

    It gets even worse because not only is the Miami Heat cramping my style, but the sweat is making the smell is getting caught in the humidity and it is sticking, oh yeah. Finally I’m like let me just get this over with and nail this girl and I’ll go get some penicillin tomorrow. Right when I’m about get it in she stops me. She was panting like a straight dog, but it was her cat that had the nasty ass breathe. She reaches into her purse and opens this packet the size of a saltine cracker and pulls out this little rubber hat and places it over my soldier creating a seemingly un-penetrable barrier between us. I thought surly if I had entered her without this hat my dick would have fell off. Why else would her doctor have prescribed her these. I thought back to Saxe Middle School all the way in my small far away town of New Canaan, CT. How I faintly remembered learning in health class about “these types” of people and hats. I should have fucking paid attention instead of trying to get L.N. to give my salami a B.J. (true story my memory is mint you can’t make any of this up).

  “My gosh STDs are real!” I pondered as I felt the rum in the back of my throat.

  “I’m a small fish in a big lake now. I need to be more careful. I wonder if my drug dealer can get me some of these hats.” I thought to myself as I pounded away.

  I was in dreamland the land you go to when you want really bad sex to be over. Suddenly I was jolted away by something very real and a very familiar smell. The sweat from the Miami Heat game was pooling where we’d both entered each other compounded with the lubrication from the protective hat that her doctor had given her created a steam so smelly and so potent that it belongs in a Resident Evil flick. The smell in the form of tiny beads were rolling of my face and down my chin, around my nose and upper lip. I dare not taste. The harder I pounded to try and finish the race the more I could feel the rum being shaken in my near perfect gut. I could pound that entire bottle of rum to my face, a thirty pack of beer, a roll or two, an eight ball, and an oz of weed and never in a million years did I imagine I’d vomit while having sex. I began to get nauseous. Oh No! I started to panic. The walls began closing in on me and I started tripping. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours.

    Then I was saved by a distraction. It was Gunnar in the bunk above me listening to both me and Blair go to P-Town. Gunnar could smell the nauseating sex from the top bunk and was both dry heaving and laughing. I looked to my left to see if Blair noticed anything, but I could see a silhouette of a double digit number. There was no way he could smell what was going on out here I couldn’t even see his head in the shadows on the wall. How could he breathe I thought? I want to be able to not breathe, but not like this like that! I was immediately pissed. I wanted to start an interrogation. Who put you up to this? Was it Blair? Was it the both of them? Was it someone outside this room? Good God what’s wrong with this girl Lauren take her out back and put her down! If she really is your friend that is not a good look!

Must Have Clean Water

This advertisement couldn’t have said it any better, “A Clean Beaver Always Finds More Wood.”

Just then I came up with a plan. I forced myself to reintroduce my lips to the upper half of this girls body. I tried convincing her to have shower sex with me. She seemed hesitant, but I can be very persistent. I suddenly started making noises. I began huffing and puffing at Blair and Lauren like they were clearly the problem. It didn’t matter because they couldn’t hear anyway I dubbed their version of 69 the reverse praying mantis because it looked like her twat was eating my roommates head. She got the hint that those two were some pretty sick bastards, and we needed to separate ourselves.

    When we got into the bathroom I turned on the shower and this girl bent over the sink face down ass up. She wanted it from behind. Just a moment ago we were doing slightly different variations of a face to face position, but nothing too crazy because I didn’t want to stir up the pond water. The problem was I did not want to take her from behind. I’d have taken her any way she wanted, but in the shower after I soaped her up whether she got offended or not I do not care. For whatever reason this girl must have been allergic to water because she didn’t want to take a shower with me, and she smelled like she hadn’t taken one in a year. What I had gotten myself into I have no idea. I felt like I was trying to force feed a two year old green beans for Christ Sake! Just get in the fuckin shower you smelly filthy Polish bitch! I was losing my patience.

    I bent her over the bathroom sink and screwed her in front of this gigantic mirror the entire length of my wall. The scene was an utter nightmare because as I’m tappin’ that ass with every stroke this foul smell is wafting up toward my face. What’s even worse is now she can see my expression as I’m pumping away at her with my head cocked far to the side and leaning back as far as possible like I was whispering to a ghost behind me and to the left. It must have looked ridiculous.

    Then as my stomach muscles could no longer take the awkward position, and I had to give up dodging her complete and utter foulness I realized what she smelled like. She must have forgot to wipe her ass! That was it. I couldn’t believe it in all my years. A pretty girl that not only shits, but forgets to wipe her ass on her way into my bed when she knew she was going to fuck me. The real question is did she just get so excited that she forgot to wipe, or when she was sitting in my bed she realized she was going to fuck me and the excitement caused a squirt? My older brother is a trauma surgeon and I rack his brain with riddles like this all the time. I had so many questions. Was it out of love and the excitement, or was it for spite? Maybe I banged her sister and came in her face against her will? What on Gods green Earth had I ever done to deserve this? On Judgement Day I’m going to have so many questions and this is not going to be anywhere near the top of the list, but it will be on that list.

    For whatever reason once I realized it was shit and not an STD I took off this stupid little hat. Her doctor should have just prescribed her some baby wipes or wet ones. When you have raunchy sex your dick comes into contact with shit all the time just not outside of the anus. Without the hat I regained my stiffness giving her all I had in hopes of getting this thing over with and taking home an important lesson. However, I just couldn’t get over the smell. She was screaming and jamming around the Rosary, but there I was watching myself in the mirror dry heave over her back. Once the dry heaving got bad enough where I was re-taking shots of the rum I’d drank I had to stop.

What Happened After

I couldn’t even look at her I just jumped in the shower. I felt like a pig that had been rolling around in my own filth and in reality I was. While I took that long shower of shame I became angry. I was so angry at Lauren for having brought that girl into my room. Then I became scared like what the fuck was that? That shit actually exists? Who does that? I really couldn’t wait to call my brother and I’m dead serious I did call him. I asked him these exact words, “Bro, what do you think was wrong with her?” Get This! Do you believe this guy; a doctor, tells me, “She probably was just a dirty bitch and didn’t wipe her ass?” What The Fuuuck! A surgeon! There had to be some sort of better explanation than that right? I’m right, right? Hydrophobia? Maybe her whole family died in the shower and she’s scared to take them? Give me an answer God please!

    When I got out of the shower I knew I had work to do. I only had one pair of sheets so was going to have to do laundry. More importantly I needed to find out who baked a grenade into my cheesecake because in college this is what we call organized crime. I busted down the door to my bathroom as violently as possible to let everyone know I meant business. Steam came billowing out like I had just hopped out of the dish washer and in many ways it was just like that, but like a new pair of white Uptowns after a rainstorm I would never be totally clean ever again.

    I flicked on the light and Gunnar was already laughing. I’m not even sure if he had stopped laughing because while Blair was suffocating himself Gunnar knew exactly what was going on both visually and aromatically. I decided to take on the tone of a infuriated Drill Sargent, “STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” I could of swore I heard a noise similar to a cork being popped out of a wine bottle when Blair took his head from between Lauren’s legs, but I wasn’t focused in on it really. They both looked at me like I was wasted again or something and were about to go back to what they were doing. This time with my eyes bulging out of my head I walked toward where they were with purpose and in a stern loud voice said, “No! Stop that! Stop doing that!” I was just about to wrestle them apart when I noticed something wallowing in my bed. Pigs wallow.

    Brittany was sleeping in my bed spread eagle. For a second my mind flashed to an image of a cucumber being turned into a pickle. Then my concern returned back to the girl in my bed who I now realized not only lacked hygiene, but the ability to detect the most basic of social cues. I didn’t even know what to think. By the way Gunnar was laughing I began to think he had put her up to this, but how does one make a woman not wipe her ass? Was she like pledging for a guys fraternity or something? I don’t know. Something was going on and as soon as she got out of my room I was going to get to the bottom of it.

    I told Brittany without any remorse that she needed to leave. To be honest this girl could have been a cross between Angelina Jolie and Jenna Jameson with a cunt that smelled and tasted like cotton candy. I was in college. I had Vanilla Dutches to crack. There were seeds to sow with other females that aced potty training. I had a girl who was a friend that would later become my first serious girlfriend on the floor below me that I would end up hanging out with later on that night while my sheets got washed. When I told Brittany to leave she actually copped and attitude with me and asked me if I was serious. I was like no lets cuddle after you refuse to shower regardless of the fact that the second you leave I’m going to clean everything in this room that you touched. I wouldn’t have even known her name if she wasn’t the Stephen King novels of one night stands. Have any of you guys ever been to South Florida in the summer? Toilet paper shouldn’t even exist because it is so hot you need a shower. No one touches each other unless they’re at the beach in bathing suits I don’t care if you’re newly wedded. The whole region of South Florida is like living on someone’s Grundle. Most people take two showers a day. It’s the truth.

    Once she left I was so flustered I couldn’t even talk. I didn’t know where to start, but Lauren and Blair made it easy because they sat there like two Mormons looking at each other saying, “Oh my God you smell that? Where is that coming from?” Hello!

    “Lauren are you fucking kidding me? That’s your friend that you so graciously blessed me with this evening.” While I am saying this and from the moment Brittany left I was peeling the soaking wet sheets off of my bed. This is actually when I made the phone call to my older brother explaining the entire situation to him in front of them. The guys and even Lauren who was fairly reserved were cracking up, but you could tell Lauren was really grossed out. She did the smartest thing I’d seen anyone do and grabbed Blair’s foot spray to hit the room. We stopped her and all three of us went to our drawers and Axe Bombed our own room. When we were finished I threw Lauren the fuck out.

“…But The Memory Remains”

Over the next couple days word got around that some Polish chick named Brittany did the impossible; she desecrated having sex in a freshman college dorm room. Instead of me telling anyone about it though I was the last person to do so. Chicks do what chicks do and from the moment Lauren got the boot from my room instead of going to look for Brittany she went and hung out with every person who was not Brittany to inform them about what happened. That is one thing I do not understand about women sometimes. This case doesn’t count because Lauren and Brittany knew each other for just under ten days and Brittany made Lauren look as shitty as she did, but in a metaphorical “I just threw you a bone in a literal” type of way. I’d do the same thing if I asked a friend to make a tricycle date a double date upon his request, and when I went to the bathroom he roofied both of them. For reasons unknown he would ruin both dates and I would look like the asshole (and most likely kill him).

    For weeks I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened to me. Why did it happen to me? I felt violated. Sometimes I get anxiety and these racing thoughts during sex and I swear I can smell her and then I look around and realize I’m just taking a shit somewhere all alone. A couple times a year it will still come up in my sessions. What happened to me nearly nine years ago I would love for one of my friends to experience, but do you know how hard it is to find a willing participant not wipe her ass for a week? So far just my one in God knows how many millions. AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL LUCKY?! All I can do now is the “Pre-Finger Test” and watch a healthy dose of “Two Girls One Cup” once or twice a week to keep the nightmares at bay in hopes of getting used to shit like this.

Conclusion Comments Questions

That is the end of another one of my Hilariously Epic Stories from the one and only. I had a great time reminiscing about it, and I hope you had an equally great time reading it. What did you think of this blog post? Did you find it offensive at all? What was it like for you when you were in college? Have you had a similar experience? The guys have the finger test to see if the female is palpable, but what am I missing girls or do you just roll the dice? On a scale of 9 to 10 how ridiculous was that last question 9 being very ridiculous and 10 being crazy stupid ridiculous?

    I’ve been getting a lot of positive feedback via E-mail and Facebook, and I really appreciate it, but if you could please use the comment boxes it would be a lot better in determining which posts drew the most attention. I’m thinking about putting a kibosh on responding period unless it’s via and approved source. I’ve recently been adding questions to the end of my blog posts to engage my readers as well. I have gone back to revise some posts if you care to respond to some of the questions I’ve posted see “Opium Mar Nightclub: Barcelona, Spain” or “Addicted: Birds of a Feather“. I also added pictures to “Destination Prague: A Gothic Romance” and the pics have really made the post ten times better so check it out.

    If you enjoyed this blog post here are some others I know you will like:

“Cross Country Stabbing (Part 2)”

“My Trip To Peru”

Please remember to follow me on Twitter @WhyStillHere and join my Facebook Fan Page for behind the blog bullshitting and commentary. Thank You!

Las Olas Downtown Fort Lauderdale, Florida Circa 2005

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Love chix like this they remind me of anime characters

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went out last night :) 

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