My second college roommate was this dude I met because I would see him riding around campus. I think he and I were the only riders who went to ULowell at the time. He seemed nice, and he was a flatlander, which was fine by me because I’ve always been into riding flat ground and curbs. He was pretty quiet at first, but real friendly. Our riding sessions would often just consist of he and I working on hang 5’s in this parking lot for a couple hours at a time (he could do them kinda, I was hopeless) but he would also come ride ledges and the pre-fab skatepark, Hadley, with me.

After I beat up my roommate causing him to die or vanish or something (see part 1 for that story), I needed a roommate and this dude needed one too so I told him he should move into my room. I figured it’d be cool to live with a rider, and he was a nice enough guy. He moved in and it was alright at first. We turned our beds into bunk beds and would push everything aside in the dorm room so we could ride a little bit in the center of the room. I’d do barspins, 180 barspins and fakie barspins (there wasn’t much room, what else was I going to do) and he’d do his weird spinny flatland stuff. It was January, so any riding was better than none.

Then I started to get to know the real him. The most prevalent part of this dude (I’m going to call him Brian just because I don’t feel like dealing with any bullshit in case he reads this)’s personality was that he acted really gay. He was straight, or at least he said he was, but he would joke around about being gay more than anyone I’ve ever met in my entire life. Now, to be sure, a lot of guys joke around about being gay. Dudes smack each other in the dicks, say sexual things sarcastically, acuse each other of being homo’s etc. But this dude did it A LOT. Like 3 minutes would rarely go by without him putting his arm around you or complimenting your hair or something stupid like that. If he had done this stuff like 1% of the time that he actually did it, it might have been funny, or at least not so obnoxious, but he overdid it so fucking bad.

I began to think that he really was gay. He had a very feminine voice, and kind of “moved” in a gay way. I know that all of this sounds terrible homophobic, but you’ve got to believe me that I’m being as objective as possible and I’m being honest, even when you stripped away all the gay jokes and shit, he just seemed like a gay dude. He was also a music major, and while that’s certainly not conclusive proof that he was gay, I’m willing to bet that music majors, on average, are gayer than most other majors. He played the fucking keyboard. Something about playing the keyboard is kind of gay. Also, he was a flatlander, and while once again there’s no proof linking flatlanders and gays, there’s always been a stereotype that flatlanders bang dudes, although I’m not sure if that’s actually true.

Aside from seeming like a potential gay, he was just creepy. This was back in 2004 when a lot of people still used Livejournal. When he realized I had one, he added me and then added the like 300 people that I was friends with. That’s weird, like adding someone you don’t know on Livejournal was considered sort of weird at the time, but taking the time to add 300 people is really weird. He would comment strange shit on my Myspace all the time. He would do stupid shit like smear cake on his face while we were eating in the cafeteria to try and get a laugh but instead my friends and I would stare at him like a freak.

I knew he wasn’t exclusively gay though, because one time he fucked a girl in front of me. He was dating this girl Amanda who was short, kinda chubby and had huge tits. She was funny though, I’d eat lunch with her and her other female friends once in a while. She was real into God and her and I would argue about that pretty often. Also, and I say this while trying to not sound full of myself, she was sooooo into me. Dating this weird pseudo-gay creep definitely had her in the mood to bang a dude who actually acted like a dude and she vibed me super hard even though it was never actually said until much later.

Anyway so yeah I had the bottom bunk in the apartment and one night while I was sleeping, he came home with her. I heard them coming in but I didn’t feel like having a conversation so I pretended to still be asleep. Then they started banging. The bunk beds weren’t super sturdy, so there was a lot of creaking and movement. I was already awake but if I had been sleeping, I definitely would have woken up. Then she just started straight up howling during the sex. It was pretty fucked, because I was just laying underneath them staring at the underside of his bed and I got the feeling that BOTH of them really wanted me to be hearing this. He was gay, I was sure of it. And I wouldn’t let him bang me, despite all the “joke” gay jokes, so this was the closest thing to actually fucking me that he had, banging a girl 3 feet away from me. Really all that was seperating he and I from banging was that 3 feet of space, a 19 year old woman and a mattress. Remove those things, and he would be sexing the shit out of me. I was so creeped out.

Her moaning was really loud. It was like she wanted to make as much noise as possible so that I would hear it, wake up and realize that she was fertile and a suitable mate for me. I was only 19 myself and had had sex with less than 10 girls. But here I was laying in bed feeling that this gay man and this woman were both putting on a show for me exhibiting their sexual performance. I can’t say that I have ever experienced anything similar since.

Then came the roadtrip. My good friend Tardif and I were dying to get out of New England even if just for a week or so, but both of our cars were junk and weren’t likely to make it anywhere warm in one piece, so I asked Brian if he was down and he agreed. He had never been on a roadtrip before. As far as I could tell he had never really done anything besides hang out in Massachusets and pretend to be gay. We took off for Florida. Honestly I don’t really remember much about the trip except that we stayed with Evan Butts in Pensacola for a couple days. I don’t remember what we rode at all really. I think we might have rode those brick tranny walls in Baton Rouge (the ones they rode on Road Fools 5) but that might have been another trip. The reason why my memory is so blurry is probably because Brian was driving us nuts the entire trip.

I remember an Etnies roadtrip article in Ride years ago where they talked about how on every roadtrip, someone ends up being the butt of the jokes. On that Etnies trip, it was Joey Cobbs and on this trip it was Brian. Tardif is honestly one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet, but he got in on it too. We gave Brian shit about everything. We made fun of his clothes, his riding, the fact that he would sing along to every fucking song on the radio even though he didn’t know 90 percent of the words (to be fair to Tardif, I was probably doing 95 percent of the teasing, but Tardif is so gentle normally that him getting in on it at all was really notable and telling). This sounds mean, and it was, but his whole gay shtick had really reached an all time high on this trip and even after me telling him over and over to just stop, he wouldn’t. So in my mind, I was justified in destroying him.

That was when I discovered his weakness; his Mom. Nobody likes having their Mother made fun of, but most people take it in stride. I realized Brian wasn’t capable of handling any jokes about his Mom. His Mom was all happy for him that he was going to go on a trip, she bought us a fucking ton of food. Boxes of Cheez-its, granola bars, Gushers, shit like that. After a few days in the car, there were granola bars and empty Gusher wrappers fucking everywhere in the car and we were all too pissed off at each other to be courteous and clean the shit up. We were also sick to death of eating Cheez-its constantly, but we were so broke that we kept doing it anyway. I started to talk shit about Brian’s Mom, saying that it was her fault the car was dirty now. He looked hurt and said “Gee, Dunnie*, I thought it was really nice of my Mom to give us all this free food”.

*Dunnie was his stupid fucking nickname for me that irritated the shit out of me. It irritated me because it’s origin was so stupid. I was listening to Mobb Deep a lot at the time and they frequently use the slang “dun” (which just means “dude”). Occasionally they’d also say “dunnie” which also means dude. He heard it in one of their songs and asked me what it meant, and then he just started calling me it constantly. It wouldn’t have been so bad but he seriously said it so much and it’s such a dumb sounding word, if you’re a gangster rapper from Queens, then you can apparently pull it off but as a suspect-gay from the suburbs, you should know better.

I kept slowly insulting his Mom more and more (Tardif was subtly egging me on by laughing whenever I’d do it) and he was clearly losing his fucking mind. But I didn’t care. I was sick of this kid and really wanted to make him cry. It’s terribly immature and I can’t imagine myself being so cruel these days towards someone, but in my mind at the time, he deserved it. He never really freaked out due to the Mom jokes, just slowly had his spirits broken and by the end of the trip he had clearly picked up on the fact that we hated him and just kept quiet. I almost felt bad, but then I remembered how annoyed I was with him just a few days earlier and then I didn’t feel bad anymore.

After that he started sleeping at his girlfriend’s house all the time because I clearly disliked him so much. Once in a while he would come back to the dorm and if I was there, he’d act like he was just stopping through to grab something and he’d leave. By this point I wasn’t making fun of him, I just wasn’t really talking to him and when he’d try to make jokes I’d either pretend I didn’t hear him or just stare at him. I wasn’t being mean, I just wasn’t even being close to friendly and it clearly bothered the shit out of him. He’d make a little gay joke here or there, not nearly as much as he used to, but sometimes. I wouldn’t acknowledge them at all.

And that was that. He stopped coming around and eventually I moved out of the dorm when he wasn’t even there. The school later sent me a bill for 250 dollars because the room was left too dirty, probably because I jerked off onto the same spot on the wall in the corner where my desk was for the entire year (I didn’t pay the bill). I didn’t hear from him. I’d still see his Myspace bulletins once and a while but I’d mostly forgot about him.

Then… are you ready for this? This isn’t really the best possible ending to the story, but it’s true: Someone told me he had became a male stripper in Providence. The initial source was pretty good, but then I asked around some more and everyone else who lived in that area and had had any interaction with him knew about it too. I never really bothered to find out any details, I was just happy that my instincts were right and that he was, in fact, a gay. I’m not sure if he knew he was gay the entire time and was just keeping it all inside, or if he finally realized it after we stopped hanging out. Maybe he’s not gay and just strips for dudes for money, although I really doubt it. The real tragedy of the whole thing is that if he had been openly gay and stopped joking around about being gay so fucking much, he probably wouldn’t have drove me insane and I probably would have remained friends with him.

I went to college. I mean I tried to go to college. I didn’t want to really, but when I graduated high school (which was no easy task for me) my Mom asked me what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I don’t remember what I told her but my actual thoughts on the matter were “I want to ride my fucking bike and bang hot chicks, mom”.

She gave me an ultimatum, either I go to community college, which they were willing to pay for (my Mom is a librarian at a state college in Massachusetts so I was able to go to any state school at a large discount) or I could get a full time job and start paying them rent to live at home. I figured college would be more fun than getting a job, so I might as well continue to live off my parents like a bum for a few more years plus be able to stay on their health insurance.

I got straight A’s in college the first year, so my Mom, proud as hell, suggested I apply to Umass Lowell (not exactly Harvard but a drastically better school) for my second year of school. I was over living at home and figured the dorms would be fun, so I went for it.

My roommate was this dude Frank. To call Frank ugly would be like saying that Louie Anderson is fat or that Kobe Bryant is good at basketball. Frank was like 5′4” and had one of those faces that reminds you of some kind of animal, but you can’t really decide what. He definitely looked more like an animal than a human. He also had this fat bitch girlfriend, who as fat and as annoying as she was, was pretty hot in comparison to Frank and she knew it. He was whipped.

I figured out pretty quickly that everyone on my floor in the dorm had lived on the same floor the year before too, and they had all gotten to live with their choice of roommates. Because I was new, I got stuck living with the dude nobody else wanted to live with, and that was Frank. Frank and I didn’t get along from the start. He had many annoying traits, but the most annoying was that he was really, really into Counterstrike and played it for hours and hours every day. He apparently didn’t realize that the sound of computerized guns firing is distracting, because he always has the volume on blast. I woke up many mornings at 9 am to him playing the game at full volume.

He was also a total moral elitist. I had this super hot girlfriend at the time who lived a few hours away and, big surprise, I was still banging other chicks. In my defense, I had told her that I was going to bang other chicks and she said she just didn’t want to hear about it. Frank knew about my agreement with my girlfriend and that didn’t stop him from letting me know whenever I had a girl over, that he thought I was doing something wrong. He told his girlfriend too and she let me know she didn’t approve of my lifestyle either. I wanted to tell Frank that he was so ugly that OF COURSE he didn’t bang other girls, he didn’t have the option to. It was a miracle that even one girl would let him touch their vagina, nevermind more than one.

The final thing you should know about Frank doesn’t really matter for you to enjoy the point of the story, but its still funny, is that Frank was poor. Being poor is fine and all, but Frank was poor due to sheer laziness. I would hear his girlfriend and his parents telling him to get a job all the time and he wouldn’t because it would cut into his Counterstrike time. Granted I wasn’t working at the time and was getting by shoplifting absurd amounts of stuff from stores and selling the goods on eBay, but at least I was making enough money to justify the fact that all I really did was do schoolwork, ride my bike and play Minesweeper.

Okay so you know how a lot of times people will call a nice article of clothing by its brand name? Like for instance, Timberlands are a fairly high quality brand of boot, so it wouldn’t.be out of the ordinary for someone to say “I just bought a new pair of Timberlands”. Another example, “my new Polo just came in the mail” would be a normal way to reference getting a new collared shirt since Polo is a definitive, world famous brand, known for one item of clothing in particular.

Frank would do that, but he would use the names of the bummy clothes he wore. Like I remember him walking into the room one time and he said “goddamnit, I spilled grape juice all over my Aeropostale’ talking about his shirt. One time he came into the room bitching about how he “scuffed up his Sketchers” too. It wasn’t funny because he wore those brands, it was funny because he was oblivious to the fact that those brands were lame and that calling them by name was obnoxious.

Anyway one day Frank was playing Counterstrike while I did schoolwork and he must have died or something, because he blurted out “NIGGER”. I was already at my wit’s end dealing with Frank, so I snapped at him

“Frank, don’t say that shit around me”.

I’m not prone to getting offended but I’ve always had black friends and Frank knew it and was liberal with his use of that word to get under my skin. He mumbled something and that was it.

The next day I was doing something on my computer with the door open and one of the other dudes from the floor walked up to the door. I was listening to Mobb Deep at the time so he said

“man you just love this jiggaboo shit huh?”

And before I could respond or process what he just said, he was gone. I realized that Frank must have bitched about me not being down with racism to this dude, and that the dude was trying to provoke me. I was pissed at him and planned on confronting him, but I was even more pissed at Frank for painting me as the bad guy to dudes I hardly knew for being offended by a racist slur (truthfully, if it was anyone besides Frank saying that word I wouldn’t have given a shit, it was just Frank really).

The story takes a weird turn here now, so bear with me. Some other dude from the floor passes by maybe 10 minutes later and asks me what I think of Frank. I said that I thought he was a fucking douche (I wasn’t exactly secretive about my feelings for him at this point) and the kid said he agreed. He then took Frank’s shaving cream off his desk and began to smear it all over our dorm room door and said “watch this”, before writing “frank is a homo” in it with his finger. I was laughing. I had no clue why he would do such a thing, but I figured I hadn’t done anything so I couldn’t get in trouble.

The kid puts the shaving cream back and stood there talking to me for another couple minutes when Frank walks up. He sees the writing on the door and looks at me, then says

“real fucking funny. Clean it up.”

He was pissed. I told him I didn’t do it. He asked who did, and I said I didn’t know, even though the kid was still standing there. Frank kept drilling me over and over to clean it up, and I kept denying having any involvement.

Then he pushed me.

Now to be sure, it wasn’t exactly a death blow, but it was a push. It didn’t hurt, but it was him indicating that he had had enough and wasn’t going to roll over on this one. Of course none of that went through my head, because as soon as he pushed me, I fucking snapped and turned around and punched him in the face.

Pretty much immediately the shaving cream kid grabbed Frank and tried to pull us apart but all that did was open him up for more punches. I kept attacking Frank and within a few seconds some of the other dudes from the floor rushed in and tried to pull him away from me, but they were all grabbing Frank, not me (he was closer to the door), so I kept getting shots in. While pulling him away one of them even accidentally pulled his shirt over his face and at that point, I nailed the cleanest shot so far on him and immediately blood started to pour out of his face, soaking through his shirt. Its probably my most memorable and rewarding punch of all time.

All this only lasted a minute or less of course (fights always seem to last forever even though they’re usually over in seconds) and quickly we were pulled apart. Everyone wanted to know why we were fighting and Frank blamed the shaving cream on me but by this point the dude who actually put it on the door was telling Frank it wasn’t me and cleaning it off with paper towels.

Immediately Frank starts yelling at me “you fucked up. I’m going down to the front desk and I’m telling them you hit me. You’re getting arrested motherfucker”. Everyone on the floor was trying to convince him not to tell the cops (which surprised me since they all barely knew me and probably thought I was a freak because I didn’t drink and rode a little bike around campus all the time) but he insisted. I said “go ahead Frank, you hit me first so you’re the one whose going to be getting in trouble” but I didn’t really believe it. He has pushed me, but I had brutally beat him and totally overreacted. I was fucked, I was going to get suspended and possibly even expelled. I acted like I didn’t care to the dudes on the floor, but I was so bummed.

15 minutes later a cop came up to my door and asked me to go with him. I complied, and he brought me down to the security office in the dorm and asked me for my side of the story. I told him that Frank had hit me, and that I hit him back, with a few more details to make myself seem less guilty. He said okay and walked me back to my dorm. I closed the door but I could hear the cop interviewing the rest of the floor.

The cop came back 20 minutes later with the dean (or something) and they told me that Frank had been arrested. My mind raced. What the fuck? Why? Him? He was arrested? Oh shit, I must be arrested too. Fuck. They’re about to turn me around and put the cuffs on me.

But nope. They said I wasn’t going to be arrested. They had interviewed everyone on the floor and everyone agreed that Frank had hit me first, so they agreed I wasn’t in the wrong. Holy fuck. I was there, and even I knew I was in the wrong. All these dudes who I barely even knew, who I had had months of opportunity to bond with and had barely even spoke to had believed me that Frank hit me hard enough to warrant me attacking him. I was speechless. He had ratted himself out.

Of course I attempted to act unphased. They told me that Frank and I were both suspended from entering the dorms for 2 weeks. Which was sort of annoying, it meant I had to commute from my parents house, but it was a small price to pay for avoiding an assault charge that I most certainly deserved. They asked me if I wanted to press charges against Frank and I said no. They said he would be released from the police station by the end of the day.

My parents were pretty pissed at me for getting in a fight, but the dorm suspension was no big deal, I attended all my classes normally, just had to commute every morning for 20 minutes.

However when I returned to the dorm, Frank wasn’t there. Some of his stuff was still there but his computer and anything remotely valuable had been removed. It was close to Winter break so I figured he had just moved home for the rest of the semester until he could get a new room and roommate but I asked around and everyone on the floor said they hadn’t seen him, and that he wasn’t answering his phone and hadn’t been on AIM. Someone confirmed he hadn’t been in class either, even for his finals.

I never saw or heard from Frank again. What happened? I don’t know. That was my last year in college and I didn’t keep in touch with anyone who knew him. But it was pretty fucking weird. Maybe he moved back home immediately, took a semester off and went back to ULowell. Maybe he moved home for a bit then started at another school. Maybe he gave up on higher education entirely and is washing dishes at Dennys right now. Either way, I don’t give a shit, Frank, you fucking suck and your girlfriend has a fupa.

As a result, I would often fly somewhere and go out of my way to pack light to save room for life vests and steal as many as 10 at a time (I only did that once, usually I’d take 2 or 3). What did we do with them? Nothing really, we just thought it was funny to have them and we’d throw them in our closet or convince a drunk girl over the apartment to put it on so we could pull the string and watch as it exploded. It was funny to do this, because once you pull the string it blows up so big that it’s really uncomfortable. They’re also pretty thick so you need a knife or something pretty sharp to pop it.

My roommate Dietrech however, really pushed the limits of the life vest trend though. He had a girl staying with him at our apartment in Astoria named Laura. Laura was in her late 20’s, from Finland and she was pretty hot. She visited from Finland to hang out with him a few times, and one time he talked her into a threesome with he and I, I think, but it never happened. Anyway one time while she was visiting he had the brilliant idea to slip one of the life vests into her panties while she was sleeping. He then pulled the chord and it exploded, driving her underwear up and giving her an unbelievable vaginal wedgie. How he was able to get this photo before she pulled it out, I don’t know. I don’t think it injured her or anything but she wasn’t stoked.

The best part about this story is that someone probably died in a plane crash as a result of not having a life vest to keep them afloat once the plane landed in the sea. All so I could write this humorous blog 5 years later.

Let’s rewind time back to 2005. I was living in Queens, playing poker full time for a living (there existed a time before The Come Up, shockingly) and due to a series of injuries, was barely riding BMX at all. Another thing I was doing besides playing poker, was meeting girls on Myspace. And then if possible, banging them. So I met this girl named Jaci. She lived in New Jersey and went to school in Manhattan. She was kinda cute. She was really short, maybe like 5′2” but she had a pretty face. She wasn’t fat but she was sort of “stumpy”, like she just sort of had a weirdly thick build. Which was weird, because she told me she was a personal trainer at a gym in New Jersey. But I have seen some people in pretty horrible shape work at personal trainers before, so whatever.

Oh and she was a hardcore chick, which will matter in the story soon. Anyway we talked for a few days on Myspace and then I offered to meet her in the city after school one day. She said she had to go in to SVA to do some stuff on a Saturday morning but that she’d be down to hang out after. So I went there and met her and we ended up walking around Manhattan for a few hours talking and I think I bought some CD’s or something (this was 2005, CD’s still existed then). We hung out again a few days later and ended up back at my apartment. This is where it gets a little weird:

We start messing around. Kissing, breast touching, all that shit. One thing in particular that I remember was that she had this really irritated patch on her hip from her belt buckle. She said she has allergic reactions to metal (really? metal?) and that it wasn’t that big a deal. I found myself wondering why she didn’t get a belt buckle made out of something besides metal or a belt that used some other locking mechanism. Regardless, she was weird to mess around with because she wouldn’t really make any moves on me. Like she was letting me touch her all over and was making out with me the whole time, but she didn’t seem like she was really enjoying it all that much. How much a woman enjoys sexual activity is usually not highly correlated to how much fun I’m having though, so I didn’t give it much thought.

So we started having sex. I strapped a condom on and put it in. I have had sex with girls with tight vaginas before, but this was different. This was like the tightest vag known to man, it was like it was carved out of fucking stone. I put it in for maybe 2 minutes and she seemed like she was kinda enjoying it, but she still seemed kinda indifferent. I slowed down and asked her “are you sure you want to be doing this?” And she said “yeah” but she seemed like she wasn’t into it so I stopped and we kinda laid around messing around for a while longer. No nut was blown. I walked her to the train and although it was kind awkward, I didn’t think it was too big a deal.

We hung out again a week or so later (I’m giving more detail than you’ll need to understand this story but I want to make this complete), which consisted of her taking the PATH train in from Jersey, watching some movie with me and falling asleep in my bed for a while (no sex was had). She asked me what train to take to get home while I was sleeping and I muttered “just take the R train towards the city”, forgetting that the R train wasn’t running late night at the time. She sat there waiting for the train for over an hour before realizing while I slept comfortably. Pwned.

The final time we hung out she came over my place in the middle of the day on a weekend about a week later after she did something at school. We hung out for a while and got food I think, then had sex again. This time the sex was more official than the first time and she seemed more into it. Ejaculate was produced. She had to go after that so I walked her to the train.

We continued to talk over the course of the next few months via AIM, Myspace and even publicly on the B9 Board. At some point she began dating a dude who posts on B9 named “Lumbergh” (that’s his messageboard name, not his real name) and we ceased communication. Which was fine with me since I was over it, but at one point Lumbergh said something to me in a thread on the B9 like “I’d like to knock your fucking teeth out”. Now, to be sure, a lot of people have experienced feelings of anger towards me due to my antics on that board in 2003-2005, so I didn’t do any detective work to figure out why he would feel that way.

Fast forward a few more months. I was hanging out with another girl named Katie who knew Lumbergh. I mentioned that he apparently had some problem with me, and she said that she would talk to him and find out why. She asked him, and he said that Jaci had told him that I had raped her. Apparently she told a lot of other people about this too. Lumbergh had just stopped dating her, and told Katie that he felt bad about threatening me and after getting to know Jaci, no longer believed her. I decided to confront this girl head on (or as head on as you can confront someone on the internet) by posting a thread on B9 entitled, infamously, “attn: stay_gold” (I probably should have mentioned this earlier but that was her name on the board, it would later lead to many jokes such as “stay_raped”).

I basically laid out my whole position, which was that her and I had had consensual sex and that no rape took place. I asked her what reasoning she could have possibly had for making such a harmful accusation? Was she trying to impress her boyfriend? Did she feel guilty about having what she may have considered promiscuous sex with me? I just wanted to know.

Of course, the whole board exploded since her and I were both well known posters at the time. Everyone wanted to hear her side of the story and the pages racked up quickly. I think around page 20 she finally entered the thread posting her full side of the story, which was entirely fabricated and culminated with a quote something like:

“You can all make jokes about this all you want, but you don’t know what it’s like to have a guy as big as Adam on top of you refusing to take no for an answer”

My mind was blown. I re-thought the times we had hung out over and over. Was there something I had missed here? Did I somehow rape her without knowing??? Obviously that’s impossible, but her story about the supposed rape was so in depth that it had me second guessing my actions, trying to figure out if there was any time where anything I did with her could have been construed as inappropriate in any context.

Aside from my own confidence in my innocence, I had a few things on my side (everyone on the board was rallying behind me anyway because I was in-real-life friends with so many posters on the board):

1) I had started the thread. If I had really committed the rape, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to draw attention to the rumors she had started.

2) Testimony by at least 3 girls who posted on the board who had had intercourse with me, that I hadn’t done anything inappropriate in my time spent hanging out with them.

3) Numerous male posters who had dealt with Jaci in the past posted claiming that she was a pathological liar and constantly made things up for attention or otherwise. A few mentioned stories of her accusing other guys of raping her.

4) Links were posted to threads in which Jaci and I engaged in friendly banter on the messageboard after the supposed rapes took place. Granted, the behavior of a woman after being sexually assaulted isn’t exactly predictable, but most readers refused to believe she would have light hearted conversations in a public forum after being raped.

5) Lumbergh posted claiming that Jaci was, once again, a liar, and claimed that she had engaged him in a bizarre web of lies ultimately culminating in her driving 8 hours to another state to have sex with another male poster from the board (this is all sounding a little bit incestuous isn’t it?) behind his back.

6) I repeatedly request that Jaci report to the nearest police station and report that I raped her. Rapists belong in jail right? Of course many rapes go un-reported, but I was confident enough in my innocent to repeatedly request that she report me, which may have made me seem even more credible.

7) My roommate at the time had been home on both occasions that we had sex, and his room was located adjacent to mine. He posted stating that he could attest to there being no noises that would indicate anything non-consensual occured.

Ultimately nobody took her side… even her real life friends seemed unwilling to vouch for her sanity. Jaci, who had previously been a frequent poster on the board never posted again. Many people since have told me that they have seen her at shows in the area, but I personally haven’t ran into her although I’m not sure I would know what to say to her if I did see her after all these years. Anyway, for most men, being falsely accused of rape is a horrible experience that can ruin their reputation, cost them thousands in legal fees and may land them in jail, but for me I would have to say that it was overall a very positive experience. Viva la fake rape.

Fun side note: After the supposed rape took place, Jaci became a Red Bull girl and I saw pictures on Edwin, Vinnie and Lil Jeff’s Myspaces of them partying with her at that Red Bull street contest in Jersey a few years ago.

As a heterosexual male, I thought this was cool. The thing is, she said she lived in Ohio. She repeatedly asked me if I would be in Ohio any time soon, and I said definitely not, I’ve never been there and going to that arctic tundra of a state during the Winter months doesn’t sound fun. She seemed bummed and said she goes to NYC sometimes, so maybe we would hang out soon. I said okay. But the texts didn’t stop. She kept hitting me up, sending me more and more photos (no n00dz, sorry) and saying more and more graphic sexual stuff. She also made it clear that she really didn’t like me that much, and didn’t understand why I “get so much ass” (her words). She would always ask me to send pictures of my dick (GTFO) and wanted me to sext with her. I definitely don’t take dick pics, and sexting is just stupid, so she got pretty frustrated.

A few days later, I left for San Diego. I had texted back and forth a little bit with this chick (who for the record, referred to herself as Selena Rosati), but nothing too crazy. Really why would I bother texting a girl who I’m not going to get to hang out with for 4 months minimum, regardless of how hot she is? She clearly sensed that I wasn’t that interested, and that seemed to bother her.

So she calls me once I’ve been in SD for a couple days and tells me that she has a friend in LA with courtside Lakers tickets, and that she wants to fly into LA, pick me up in SD (a 2 hour drive), then bring me back to LA to go to this Lakers game. I give absolutely no fucks about basketball, but I know that typically the dudes who sit courtside are Jay Z, Spike Lee and uh, actual pro basketball players, so I was down. I asked how the hell she had enough money to fly to LA on 2 days notice for no reason, and she said that her trust fund had just come in and that she was just really eager to see me. How could I argue with that?

Finally, on Wednesday she flys in to LA. She texted me as soon as she landed and said that she was going to go to her ex-boyfriend’s house to borrow his car. I was like “your ex-boyfriend lets you borrow his car to drive hundreds of miles to hang out with other dudes?” and she more or less just said “yeah”. Fair enough. But then all of a sudden, one of my texts went un-answered. And then it’s 5 PM and she still hasn’t let me know that she’s driving to SD. I text her again asking if she’s coming and she doesn’t respond. Weird. She texts me later that night and just says “I’m drunk”. I definitely thought this was a weird set of events, but whatever.

Thursday was the day of the supposed Lakers game. I woke up to a text that said “get up lazy, you’re going to the Lakers game with me”. I responded “okay, come get me”, to which she responded “I will, I’m shopping right now”. I texted something back and she didn’t respond. Then she texts me again late that night telling me how great the Lakers game was, and letting me know she sat next to Jack Nicholson. She even posted a picture of her feet on the Lakers court. She also said she was coming to San Diego to throw a big party at her friend’s mansion on Friday, so even though she had so far fucked up 2 planned hang out’s in a row, I figured that she would be in SD the next day, so all I’d have to do was get the address and get Kyle or Hoang to drive over, so we would finally hang out despite what a flake she was being. I told all my friends in SD about the planned mansion party and they were all super excited to rage with a bunch of hot, rich drunk girls, drink their beer and probably steal their purses.

Friday rolls around and it’s raining. We all spent the day sitting around watching movies, smoking weed and awaiting this party. This time she didn’t stop answering my texts, she just was really weird and vague and wouldn’t tell me where she was partying. I can’t even begin to describe how bummed this made Kyle Hart. He wanted nothing more than to go rage at this girl’s party and cause mayhem, but instead due to a combination of this chick’s flakiness and the rain, we ended up all sleeping by 1 AM.

At this point, I was over it. If she wanted to come to me, I probably would have hung out with her, but I wasn’t going to put any more effort into it. The next day was the weed cookie story that I wrote about earlier, so I was KO’ed for a large part of the day, but I woke up to a text from her that said “I better see you before I leave California”. I didn’t respond. It would be the last time we exchanged words.

I got home to NYC a few days later and despite having a full day’s work ahead of me, managed to sneak in an hour nap. I awoke to a text from my roommate saying simply “dude, you have to read the B9 board right now”. I typically only read the B9er when I’m incredibly bored, which isn’t often, so I asked why, and he specified one thread in particular. It was already 20 pages long (which is really long) and I read the first couple pages. The issue at hand was that one dude who posts on the board had been talking to a girl for a while who he met on B9 and that he basically had concluded based on a bunch of evidence and failed attempts to hang out with her, that she didn’t really exist and was a girl pretending to be someone she wasn’t, using another girl’s photos to lead him and a few other male posters on. I asked my roommate why this was relevant to me and he told met to skip to page 10.

I wish I had saved it, but a guy I know a little bit named Dan had written a long post about Selena describing how he talked to her on Facebook for over a year, racked up a 2000 dollar phone bill talking to her and wasted hours and hours of his band’s time while they were on tour driving from place to place attempting to meet up with her. Even after he stopped talking to her, he said that dudes he would meet on tour would come up to him and let him know that they were talking to his ex-girlfriend and that they hoped he was cool with it.

Holy shit. It all made so much sense. A bunch of other dudes had all been led on in the same way, and we all began to share stories about the things that she had told us (one dude told me that she had talked about me a ton and told him that I was a loser for refusing to send dick pictures or sext with her, lol). I immediately went to look at her Facebook. It was deleted. She had sent me a Photobucket link full of photos of her. That too was deleted.

By the time I had time to read the thread again (it had reached close to 30 pages at one point) it was already deleted by one of the B9 mods, not sure why. I’m also not sure how to end this story. I guess what I’m most curious about is what this girl’s motivation is in doing stuff like this. Does she get off on pretending to be a rich, high class, globe-trotting trust fund kid? Does she enjoy being able to socialize with guys who probably wouldn’t give her the time of day otherwise? Is it just some sick mission to get dick pics out of dudes in bands? I’m not sure, and chances are we’ll never know.

One thing that I’d never tried until this trip, was eating weed. I know a lot of people who have done it and always heard that it was pretty intense. There’s a dude in SD who I will affectionately refer to as “Brownieman” who makes all kinds of butter, cookies and brownies with weed in them, and by all accounts that shit gets you FUCKED UP. Hoang ate half of a weed cookie early on in the trip and ended up turning a 5 minute drive into a 45 minute mission after getting incredibly lost. Then he fell asleep at a burger joint and when we woke him up, stumbled around on the strip, then started puking all over the street. Then he slept for 16 hours.

One thing I’m a fan of, is sushi. We went to a really good sushi place out there called Sushi Deli and I told Hoang we definitely needed to hit it up a second time later in the trip. After a riding session towards the end of the trip, I figured that weed makes me hungry, and we were going to the sushi spot, so why not eat half a weed cookie like Hoang had done? I weigh probably about twice as much as Hoang, so I figured I would be alright. Brownieman happened to be with us and he hooked it up. The cookie honestly tasted pretty bad. Imagine a sugar cookie that was cooked with a big pile of grass inside it and that describes what the cookie both looked and tasted like.

About 20 minutes after I ate the cookie, I started to feel it kicking in. We got to the sushi spot and by the time I ordered, I was seriously fucked. My whole body was tingling. You know how your head kinda tingles when you smoke weed normally? My whole body was like that and it was seriously fucking with me. When my food came, I dug in but I wasn’t even really that hungry, my whole body felt so fucking weird that I could barely enjoy the food. I remember thinking over and over that sushi is one of the craziest tasting foods ever, which is true, but it seemed extra true under the spell of the cookie. I was seriously dreading having to get up and leave the restaurant.

But eventually I had to, and I made it out fine. Hoang had to go study for a final, so we went with Brownieman to a hot tub spot he knew of where we could chill out. I sat in the back of his truck with Alex sitting in the front. There was some music playing, and it seriously put me into a trance. I was borderline passed out while sitting up and then all of a sudden, with no warning

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH

I puked up every last bit of sushi all over Brownieman’s car. He was freaking out yelling at me “Holy fuck dude, open the door, puke out the door!” and I remember saying “I’M GOING TO FALL OUT OF THE CAR IF I DO THAT” (which was probably true since I really had almost no control over my body at that point). He pulled over and I stumbled out of the car. Alex lost his sense of smell a year or so ago when he was in a coma, so Brownieman had him pull out the floor mat that was covered in sushi. Alex described it was “a gigantic loogie with rice inside of it”. They decided after that to skip the hot tubs and went to Christian’s house, while I slept for 3 hours sitting up in Brownieman’s car. I ended up giving Brownieman 70 dollars to have his car detailed, but I got the cookie for free, so it wasn’t a total wash.

I felt high as fuck the entire next day too. It was seriously pretty horrible. I might try it again some time, but I’d want to eat less than I did that time (or at least space it out over the course of a night) and I’d definitely want to do it in a more comfortable environment, I’m sure that the motion of the car had a lot to do with me puking. Also to put Alex Platt’s weed tolerance into perspective, he ate 2 cookies (4x more than I ate) and described himself as “a little high”.

In standard Alex Platt form (I love him to death but he really doesn’t know when to shut up) he said something else to Frank and Frank stepped past me and yelled in Alex’s face and then grabbed his cigarette out of his mouth. It was obvious this situation was going to get physical so I lifted my bike up over my head holding my seat and the crossbar and smashed it down on his head. I wasn’t really excited to see this situation turn physical, but y’know, whatever. His beer went flying everywhere and in one fell swoop, Frank’s 3 friends all ran up on us. None of them started throwing punches immediately, but none of the dudes I was with seemed to mind… Hoang lifted his bike and smashed it on a dude, Kyle Hart knocked one of the dudes onto the ground and started punching him more while the guy laid on the ground, Chris Hervan started smashing some dude in the face… I ran 10 feet away towards my bag to put the camera in it, then kicked one of the dudes in the chin.

Frank was visibly shaken from the peg that hit him in the head so he grabbed Hoang’s bike and started to walk away like he was going to steal it. We all started to swarm towards him so he just dropped it. I grabbed a couple bikes and took off towards the car and started strapping them on the bike rack. Kyle then informed me that one of the dudes had a knife out when they ran up on us, which I didn’t see, and we hadn’t even wanted to get into a fight in the first place so I wanted to get out of there ASAP before it got worse or the cops came (also Frank had gotten on his phone and screamed “THE CRIP CAR IS COMING” which sounded unpleasant). Fortunately by that point everyone except Frank had relented and walked back towards their bench anyway. Frank stood there and berated us, all while shaking and looking visibly injured. He kept saying “that’s why y’all niggas are fucked up, because y’all don’t have no respect”. He even said “that’s why Osama hates y’all so much”, which is so mind blowing I can’t even begin to analyze it, I’m pretty sure Osama hates white BMXers as much as he hates poor black alcoholics, but I might be wrong.

Someone asked us after if we “beat them up” and I wasn’t sure what to say. None of us got hurt (I actually jammed my finger at some point during the situation, I’m not really sure how), and we definitely hurt them, but we also left while things were still going well. So it wasn’t exactly an all out beat down, but it definitely went pretty well all things considered, especially considering one of them had a knife. I also thinks this marks the first time I’ve ever hit a black person, and if my memory serves me correctly, it’s the first time I’ve ever hit any non-white person.

Allow me to explain these girls. The first one, Ashley, who I had met online, had a smoking body. Really good body, there’s no denying that. Very thin, B cups, she was dressed pretty well. Her face was sort of questionable. I wouldn’t call her ugly, but she wasn’t exactly pretty either. She had a weird chin to be honest. I mean not super weird, but kinda weird. I’d post a Facebook picture of her but she already deleted me.

Her friend was hot though. I can’t remember her name so I’ll just refer to her as Rapunzel. She was insanely skinny, like legitimately one of the skinniest girls I’ve ever seen, but she still had pretty decent sized breasts. Her face was pretty. Her hair was cute and she had tattoos and piercings, which is fine, except she had one piercing that was a HUGE plug the size of a bottle cap under her lip. I am sort of indifferent towards piercings but this thing was seriously huge. Regardless, she was hot enough that I would have eaten her shit given the chance.

Anyway they pick us up and it’s pretty awkward right from the start because they aren’t talking and seemingly have no personalities. They are both vegan and Straight Edge. Which is alright I guess, but typically alcohol and drugs help bring people to life a little bit. These girls probably could have injested 10 8 balls and still would have been boring as fuck. Fortunately we ran over a skunk 5 minutes after hitting the road and the entire car started to smell super bad which was hilarious. They had to pull over and they bought a bunch of air fresheners to deal with the scent, which went away pretty quickly. We all smoked a joint that Alex already had rolled while they bought the air fresheners, and the girls were clearly not impressed. The entire situation would have been fucking horrible if Kyle wasn’t cracking jokes a mile a minute the whole time.

We went to their house and proceeded to be really, really bored for about 20 minutes. Then Kyle luckily suggested we go to the store to get beer. The girls seemed reluctant to even have beer in their house (seriously? SERIOUSLY?) and claimed nobody had ever drank alcohol in their apartment before (what planet am I on again?) but walked with us to a CVS. Kyle and Alex bought a bottle of cheap vodka and I bought a 12 pack of PBR’s, then we walked back. We all went to work. Alex and Kyle were going back and forth slamming shots of the vodka, all while sipping on beers. I only drank like 6 beers, but I did so within the span of like 50 minutes, so I was feeling pretty good too. The girls put in a Seinfeld DVD (which apparently is how you party when you’re Edge, vegan and have no soul) which was at least slightly entertaining, but we were seriously over it and all pretty fucked up within an hour. We all went outside so Alex and Kyle could smoke cigarettes, and pretty soon we brought up the idea of them driving us home. Reluctantly, they did so.

On the way home we figured we might as well go for the gold, so we all cracked beers and started smoking weed in the backseat with the windows up. Amazingly we smoked a spliff in the backseat, a foot and a half away from them for like 2 or 3 full minutes before they even noticed. Then they noticed the open beers and got even more upset. By that point we were almost home. As we unloaded out of the car, I said goodbye to the girls and half heartedly told them we should hang out again, before Alex decided to stop being polite and start getting real. I think his quote went something like this:

“Girl in the drivers seat with the tattoos… you’re cool. Honestly, you seem like a nice person. But you… blonde girl. You fucking suck. You are the most miserable person I’ve ever met in my life, I hope you die you fucking cunt”.

The way he said it was seriously beautiful. He was just so sincere, and I think we all agreed that the world would be a better place if this girl, did, in fact die in a fire.

The fact that Alex said that was pretty funny, but how she responded was even better. She took her seat belt off, winded up, and punched Alex as hard as she could in the arm! It was so fucking funny. I mean she was a 130 pound girl (at most) so it didn’t hurt him, but just seeing her get that fucking mad was seriously amazing. Alex laughed and got out of the car and we stumbled into Hoang’s house and went to bed. Ashley, the assailant, texted me later telling me Alex was a dick and asking if I wanted to hang out the next day. I said “to be honest, none of us liked you at all. We’d chill with your friend though“. She responded something like “fuck you” and that was the end of it.