One night there were these 2 wack chicks there talking to all the riders and I started conversating with the more attractive of the two. The first one, whose name I can’t remember but for now I’ll just call uh… “Brit”, was of average height, average build and had a below average face. Pretty much everything about her was average besides her personality, which was fucking horrible. Girl seriously just exuded shittiness, everything that came out of her mouth just made you want to hit her. Her friend was a big fat cow. She might have been of average height but she was huge. A real gigantic blob of a person. And much like her more attractive friend, she had an absolutely horrible personality.

I didn’t care though because I was young, dumb and ready to get my first ass in NYC. I started talking to Brit and eventually convinced her to take me back to her place which was a few blocks away from Union. While that was going on, my friend Joe was chatting up the fat one (Brit and her were roommates) so he came with me to their apartment.

We walked in and Brit went straight to the bathroom while the fat one went outside onto their patio to smoke a grit. As soon as they were both out of sight, Joe grabbed Brit’s purse, looked inside and pulled 20 bucks out of it. He looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back. I didn’t know Joe too well, but if he was down to party like that, I was down too. Unfortunately there was only one purse, fat slob had hers still with her. But I noticed 25 dollars sitting on their kitchen table with a note saying it was for utilities from one of their other roommates, so I grabbed that. I was really poor at the time. Nowadays, I never really steal, from stores or from people, but at the time I was broke enough that 25 bucks seemed like a REALLY big deal and I was willing to accept the negative cosmic energy.

Brit and the cow came out and we hung out talking for a while. Then Brit and I went back to her room and made out. I was going for the gold trying to touch her vagina and shit, but she told me she wasn’t trying to go there because she was tired and just wanted to cuddle. She rolled over and went to sleep. I kept trying to pry her underwear to the side to touch her clam but she was clamping her legs together while simultaneously pretending to sleep. Fuck. I got up and looked out through her door (there was a small glass window in the door) and saw Joe fingering the fat chick. Yuck. I got back in bed with my sleeping beauty to wait it out for Joe to finish whatever he was doing.

It didn’t take long though, Joe opened the door and asked me what I was doing. He said his girl had decided to go to sleep too. I said I had tried to freak off and that she was now sleeping. He asked why I didn’t just keep trying to freak off anyway and I said that I had tried and failed. He said “fuck that, watch this” and reached between her legs and started fingering her while we both stood there in her room. She was still doing this fake sleep thing and he seriously finger blasted her for a minute or two full throttle while she continued to pretend to sleep. I don’t know what having a vagina feels like exactly but NOBODY could sleep through that, but she didn’t try to stop him, acknowledge it or even react at all. I was pretty shocked, but then we just left.

That was a Thursday. The next day was Friday. A bunch of my friends from New Hampshire were coming in Friday and they wanted to get trashed, but my roommates and I didn’t really have any ideas of what to do so I called Brit. She said she was down to hang so we all headed over there. The dudes I was with identities are kinda important so I’ll run through this real quick:

D: My roommate and mentor at the time. He is awesome. Huge, muscular dude (pause) of black ethnicity who has banged 100+ chicks and is pure evil. Always has a master plan ready to go of how to make money and has no remorse. NOTHING is beyond him. A really good friend to his homies, but when it comes to anyone else he has no morals at all. He is amazing.

Matt: Matt is another friend from NH. Short, stumpy but one of the most witty, hilarious people I’ve ever known. I have never met someone funnier than this dude in my entire life.

Jeff: Jeff doesn’t do anything interesting in this story but he was there, so I’ll at least give him a name.

So we take the train into the city and I call Brit. She tells me to buy beer. So we go buy beer. We go to her house. Everyone starts drinking the beer. The people at her apartment are Brit, fat cow and this blonde chick who was pretty cute. Jeff starts hitting it off with the blonde immediately and within an hour they are in her room freaking off.

Brit, as I said, was a cunt. A really retched bitch of a person. We were all sitting around talking and this conversation actually happens:

Brit: So what do you do?

Matt: I work at a bike shop in New Hampshire.

Brit: Did you go to college?

Matt: No.

Brit: Wow, nice future.

She seriously said that. Matt may not be the higher education type, but he’s also made a pretty alright life for himself in NH. He earns a good amount of money, owns his own condo, has a cat. He’s not rich or anything but he’s definitely not a failure financially and has definitely accomplished more in his life than she had at the time as a 19 year old retarded art student living off her parents.

Now another thing you need to know about D is that he is really into revenge. Like if someone does something to him, he takes it upon himself to do pretty much anything within his power to make them suffer as a result. Matt was already pretty drunk when this girl told him that his life sucked, and he didn’t care, but D doesn’t drink and was MAD. But he’s also a very calm person in stressful situations and just kept quiet and calm. But I could see the gears in his head churning.

Soon Brit and the fatso went outside again to smoke butts and D walked over to her fridge and grabbed a plate of food that was covered in tin foil. I asked what he was doing and he just said follow me. He walked over to the bathroom, peeled back the tin foil and dumped all the food into the toilet. WTF? But I knew where this was going. He dropped his pants and held the plate below his asshole and just unleased a long, curled up turd onto the plate. Then he calmly put it on the floor of the bathroom, wiped his ass, then put the tin foil back over the plate and brought it back to the fridge.

Of course, I was dying laughing the whole time watching this go down (yes, I watched him take a shit and no I don’t really think that’s weird). But I was also pretty astounded. I know D, and I knew that he’s ambitious. He doesn’t just shoplift a bag of candy from the store, he goes in with an empty bag from The Gap and drops the entire case of candy in. So I knew this was going to get bad.

I went out and hung out with Brit and the fat girl for a while longer. They were getting pretty drunk and talking in depth about the dudes in bands that they know. Girls love to do that shit. I could see D milling around inside though, and later I asked him what he did and he said he took their ketchup into the bathroom and peed in it, then mixed it in really good with a knife.

I guess I have to mention that at the time, we were really into carrying tear gas around with us at the time. I had gotten some of it from this dude I knew real cheap and it was serious shit. Way stronger than the stuff you can buy at the store that they expect little old ladies to use on would-be-muggers. On a night like that night, we would bring it with us just in case we had a situation that called for it. So Brit was drinking this Jack and Coke out of a big ass cup and at one point, D pulled his tear gas out of his pocket and just started unloading it into the cup while she had her back turned. I was shocked, this was pretty gnarly even by his standards. I mean the poop and the pissing and everything was pretty bad but this was a whole new level and I was stoked.

She walks back, puts it up to her lips and takes a sip then immediately runs back to the sink and starts puking like crazy. This chick was loud and annoying most of the time so I was kind astounded that her puking was almost silent. She wasn’t doing this as an attention plea, she was just legitimately fucked. She turned around and asked what the fuck had happened, and D just kept denying doing anything. She was convinced he had put fucking PAINT THINNER in her drink like most dudes carry around paint thinner. She kept insisting that one of us try it so we could see what it tasted like and we refused, obviously.

She somehow got over this pretty quick and Matt ended up hooking up with the fat chick. I was still out in the living room with D and Brit and Matt went into her room with her. After like 15 minutes I cracked the door open and saw him with his head buried in this sea monster’s cunt eating her out. YUCK.

I ended up taking Brit into her room and we hooked up. Nothing too notable went down except she started saying while we were having sex, “You should be my boyfriend. Even if it’s just tonight, you’re my boyfriend, right?” Uhhh yeah okay. I seriously tasted the lingering tear gas when we kissed too so I kept that to a minimum. Anyway we finished and she fell asleep immediately. I went back into the living room and I creeped out to see what Matt was doing. It was like 30 minutes later and I opened the door and he was still in exactly the same position eating her out. Opening the door twice and seeing the exact same digusting site hit me as an extra hard LOL moment.

I woke up in the morning to the sound of her getting out of bed. She walked over to the fridge and I listened as she opened it, sniffed and then said “I think the power must have went out and all the food went bad”. Oh man. I quickly put on my jeans, gave her a hug goodbye and left. On my way out the door I noticed that D had cut the cables on her 2 Nintendo controllers. Wow.

I leave, get on the N train and headed back to my apartment in Queens which took maybe 45 minutes. D is there and we start talking and laughing about the night. Then I get a phone call from her while we’re standing there talking. Oh fuck. I pick up expecting the worst.

Me: Hey what’s up?

Her: Not much. Hey, I wish you had stayed longer. I want to fuck you again. Come back here.

Me: Uhhh well I’m back in Queens already.

Her: Well come back anyway.

Me: I, like, have shit to do today.

Her: Okay, well call me tonight okay? I want to see you again.

Me: Okay sure.

Click. Wow, she still didn’t know. I was just dreading what she was going to say when she found out, and sure enough 20 minutes later I get another call from her, in tears, which for some reason I picked up. At this point in my life in a similar situation I would have just let it ring and spare myself hearing her spaz.

Her: HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Me: What are you talking about?

Her: YOU BASTARDS. I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO MY APARTMENT.

Me: No really what happened. I wanna know.

Her: YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

This kept going for another couple minutes. I genuinely wanted to know what she knew about, because that phone call was inevitably going to happen no matter what she found out about, but chances were she didn’t already know about everything. Eventually I hung up and forgot about it. I felt sorta bad for being involved in totally destroying her life, but at the same time I didn’t actually do it, I just sort of allowed it to happen. And I couldn’t feel all the way bad since this girl, let me remind you, was a total bitch.

Then I did something ignenious. Really, in all my decisions over the course of my entire life, this has to have been one of the smartest and I made it with no prior knowledge of why it would end up being a blessing or anything. But I did it: I went to Boston for 6 days.

Now you’re probably wondering why that was such a great decision. I didn’t go there to avoid problems with this girl. I live in Astoria, she lived in the city, but I had been going to Union nightly and probably would have gone there nightly regardless of not wanting to see her. But I went to Boston to ride with some friends and that ended up being an incredible decision because as soon as I returned to the city I pedaled to Union from the train station and saw my friend, who at the time I barely knew and have since gone on a few trips with and became good friends with. He sees me and says:

Him: Yo. Son. You’re mad fucked up son.

Me: What are you talking about? (I had already forgot about the incident with the girl and it didn’t occur to me that he could have possibly known about it anyway)

Him: Yo that chick told me you took a fucking shit in her fridge son.

Me: Oh nah that wasn’t me it was my roommate. You saw her?

Him: Yeah man she came here every night for the past 5 or 6 days with these 3 big ass Italian niggas.

At this point I remembered that she had mentioned in conversation that her uncle was a cop in Jersey where she was originally from. It was the kind of thing where at the time, I didn’t think twice about it but then as he told the story, started to sound like a really big deal to me.

Me: Really?

Him: Yeah man big steroid ass niggas. She kept asking about you and asked if I had your number and shit but I just told her that I didn’t know you. She said that you drew nazi signs on her walls and shit.

I asked D and he said that he had drawn swazi’s under her paintings on the wall for her to find later. I guess he forgot to mention it before. It definitely wasn’t a hate crime since I have no idea if she was Jewish or not, I think he just wanted to leave something disturbing there for her to discover.

Me: I didn’t know about that. Damn. You didn’t see them here tonight?

Him: No man but if I were you I’d get out of here those dudes seemed pissed and they might come back.

Me: Okay dude thanks.

And that was it. I went home and while I slowly resumed going to Union after that to hang out, I was seriously pretty shocked at how lucky I got. What would those dudes have done to me? At least one was a copy, but would they have bothered to arrest me or would they have just beaten me within an inch of my life? I’m going to assume they probably would have beat me close to my death and then arrested me. As for Brit, I don’t know what happened to her but I never saw her again and someone told me she moved out of that apartment and the city altogether pretty soon after the incident.

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.

Let’s go back in time to the Winter of 2006. I was staying in Pensacola, Florida for about 2 months with my friend Evan Butts. I had moved to NYC a year earlier and wanted to spend the Winter in a warm climate, so Pensacola it was. There’s not a lot to do in Western Florida, and I didn’t have anything to do anyway so I pretty much rode by myself every day, hung out at Barnes & Noble reading books and then went and rode more with Evan when he got off of work. I wasn’t Straight Edge anymore at that point but I wasn’t really into drinking yet and Evan had a girlfriend so I didn’t have anyone to really go out and party with or anything. I put in some work meeting girls on Myspace though and managed to succeed once or twice.

The most notable success story was in the form of “Diana” (this isn’t her real name and I actually do have photos of this girl since we’re Facebook friends, but I’ll respect her privacy). She had been talking to me on Myspace for a while and lived about 2 hours away. One night I convinced her to drive to Pensacola to hang out. She showed up and she was alright looking. Super short and kinda odd looking, but still pretty. She asked what I wanted to do and I knew from lurking her comments that she was REALLY into drinking wine, so I said we should go get some and drink it. The thing was that it was like 11 PM in a total shithole town and I had no idea where the bars were even located, so she suggested we go to Walmart down the street and just buy wine there and drink it at Evan’s house. Fuck yeah.

So we go there and I let her pick out some 8 dollar bottle of wine or whatever and I remember I also bought a big ass bag of Double Stuff Oreos too for some reason. So we go back to her house and start drinking. I had never really drank much before honestly, I didn’t tell her that though and I had only ever drank beer previously so I had no idea how much stronger wine is. I was drinking at a pretty fast rate and before I knew it, I was wasted and downing Oreos at the speed of light.

We finished the wine and I was pretty fucked, so we crawl into bed. I was honestly too fucked up to make a move. Once she figured that out, she crawled on top of me and started kissing me, started stroking my rock-hard blogging ass dick and things went from there. I was apparently too drunk to remember to use a condom. Bad idea, but y’know, shit happens. She apparently didn’t object. I was so drunk that I couldn’t control myself or push her off of me when I was about to bust, so that shit went up into her while she was on top of me. So then she says to me “okay I want you to get on top of me” and I was like “uh, I don’t think I can do that”. She was like “OMFG you finished?” and I said sorry. She was kinda pissed but said it wasn’t that big a deal because she was on the pill, but that she had been fucking up taking it lately. She said she’d get the morning after pill.

I fell asleep and she left early in the morning. My kind of girl. Evan came into the room a few hours later at like 10 AM and asked if I wanted to go ride the skatepark with him and his friends. I said that I did, and he was pretty shocked. In retrospect I have no idea what motivated me to do this. I rarely go riding as early as 10 AM even when I’m not completely hungover, and I am normally not very enthusiastic about riding skateparks, but I went.

Now, as a side note I have to point that I have a pretty big head. Not my penis head, dude, my cranium. Like seriously in high school my girlfriend and I at the time measured our heads with a piece of string and a tape measure and my head measured twice as big around the forehead as hers. If I wear a fitted hat, I have to buy an 8″ which they don’t even sell in most stores, and even those are usually pretty tight. Basically I have a really big head. I’m cool with it, just saying. So of course, when it comes to wearing a helmet, that’s difficult too. I was wearing a rental helmet from the skatepark and even though it fit on my head just barely after tearing out some of the padding, the strap wouldn’t fit under my chin so I just left it dangling.

I don’t remember much else about the skatepark session but I know I did an icepick grind to barspin on a flat ledge and was feeling pretty good about that (it’s weird to even think about that now because I’m such shit at barspins now and don’t even bother trying them). So I was just messing around doing a manual 180 over this pyramid thing. It was maybe 5 feet high, your average pyramid, and somehow when I went to 180, either my pants got stuck in my chain or something happened that caused me to fall back from the top of the pyramid to flat. My helmet went flying since it wasn’t strapped, and my head struck the ground super hard (if you were to watch me ride these days, you’d probably notice that I never 180 into anything steep and am super cautious about doing fakie tricks on steep banks, because of this fall).

I got a concussion. I don’t remember much about it obviously, but I know that I came to surrounded by all the other riders and the little kids at the park all staring at me. Evan said that I seemed fine at first and just got up and went and sat down on the side of the park. He had to go to work anyway so he got me a few minutes later and we got in this car, so he could drop me off back at the house. At that point we started having this conversation:

“Hey so did I hit my head?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Doing what?”

“A manual 180″

“Pffh… Brian Wizmerski.”

(30 second pause)

“Hey so did I hit my head?”

“Are you serious?”

“What?”

He then realized that I had a pretty serious concussion and he brought me to the hospital. I kept asking him what happened and kept saying “Brian Wizmerski” over and over for the next few hours while we sat in the hospital waiting for me to get my brain X-rayed. I called my mom like 10 times too and kept telling her what happened and she was freaking out because she thought I had become a retard or something. I even called Diana and was like “Yo, what’s up? Evan says that we banged last night, isn’t that crazy???” She wasn’t stoked. Evan eventually had to take my phone away.

Ultimately the doctor told me that I was fine and that I should just get lots of rest and that I’d be alright. They also billed me 6000 dollars, which I never paid, which partially explains why my credit score is total shit.

My memory was seriously fucked for a couple days. I went home and added my ex-girlfriend on Myspace, who I hadn’t talked to for over a year. I started playing Omaha (a type of poker that I don’t know ANYTHING about) for money online. I remember the next day I woke up at 4 AM and rode my bike to a fast food restaurant, ate a sandwich and watched Saved By The Bell on a TV there for like 2 hours. I was fucked.

Anyway that all went away and I felt fine again a few days later.

Fast forward 5 months and I’m back in NYC doing my thing as usual. I had only talked to Diana a few times here and there, but I was friends with her on Livejournal so I knew that she had been on tour with some band for a few weeks and had gotten really sick and had to go home early from the tour. She IMs me one day and says:

“Hey, can I call you in a few hours? I have to talk to you about something serious”

Immediately all the possible scenarios started running through my head. They were, in this order:

“Holy fuck, she’s pregnant”
“Holy FUCK, she’s got herpes”
“HOLY FUCK SHE HAS AIDS”

So I responded:

“No. Tell me. Now. What is it.”

She informed me that she had just had an abortion a few days earlier.

I was stoked. I mean granted, yeah, that sucks for her, but fuck it man I didn’t have a kid and I wasn’t going to die of AIDS. I didn’t even have to pay for it!

But then I started thinking… wait, that was like 5 months ago? Isn’t it illegal to have an abortion that late? She said that that’s true, but that she had found a doctor who was willing to do it anyway. I asked how she had not noticed a baby growing in her for 5 months and she said that she had been partying, drinking and smoking heavily and that it must have been super under-weight and that she just thought she was getting fat.

I didn’t really know what to say after that. I had dodged a bullet. Never in my life did I think that a baby created from my sperm lying dead in a garbage can would make me so happy, but I was fucking stoked. Some people have a moral objection to abortion and will probably find this story disgusting, but I am definitely not one of them. I told my roommate and we went down the street and I treated him to an ice cream (no homo) to celebrate the dead baby.

I could end the story there, but there’s more. I mean kinda.

So fast forward another couple years. This dude who lived down the street from me and was into BMX and hardcore hit me up and he wanted to start lifting weights with me (do I need to no homo this incredibly gay scenario I’m describing here?), so we met up and started training regularly. Eventually he ended up telling me about this band that he had been in a year or two before. I immediately recognized the name of the band. Even though I’d never heard them, it was the band Diana had been on tour with. I was like:

“Woah! That’s crazy. There’s this chick I knocked up that went on tour with that band, you must know her.”

He was like:

“Oh shit no, I didn’t go on that tour, I had quit the band before that tour. But I remember them talking about that girl, I’ll tell the other dudes who were in the band about it man, they’ll think it’s crazy.”

So he reports back to his friend who played guitar in the band, and the dude tells him that Diana never went on tour with them. They had played her town and then gave her a ride to a show 2 hours away the next day. That’s it.

So she lied about it. Not hard to believe, girls make up all kinds of shit. But my question for you is, if she would lie about going on tour with that band, would she lie about being pregnant just to freak me out and get some attention? There are numerous unlikely factors about the story. First off, she was supposed to be on the pill. But the pill isn’t 100%, so that’s not conclusive. The idea that she went 5 months without noticing she was pregnant is also pretty weird, but I’ve heard about shit like that happening. And the idea that she was able to get a late term abortion is also kind of interesting, but it’s certainly possible.

So was my first born murdered in an underground Florida abortion lab? I don’t know. I’ll never know. But it sure is a weird story.

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.

So first off, you should know that as a kid, I never had a pet. My Mom is allergic to cats and neither of my parents are really into animals (my Mom once showed my Dad a picture of a Koala Bear and asked him “Phil, what animal is that?” and he responded after a long pause “Emu?”), so I never had that bond that kids often develop with a pet. Actually my folks did get a black dog named Buddy when I was in 2nd grade and we had him for about a week, but he kept pissing on everything and fucking shit up and they didn’t have the patience to deal with him so they gave him back to the shelter.

But I never had a cat. I never even really thought about animals to be honest. People would talk about them and obsess over them, and I just never really got it. I figured it was just something that I wasn’t into. Like, a lot of people like Star Wars, but I just never understood the appeal. Like, yeah I get it, the special effects look cool and they’re killing aliens and shit, but I still don’t care. Cats, same thing. They’re little and furry and they do stupid things, but I didn’t care. I put cats in the Star Wars category.

But then I ended up moving in with a girl who I had been dating for about a year, and she was really into cats. When I visited her in her hometown of Chicago, she would take me to her Mom’s house and show me her fat orange cat that she had had her entire life. She’d make me pet him, show me the tricks he could do (most cats don’t really do tricks, but if you held up a treat, this cat would do all kinds of weird shit) and talk about him at length. I didn’t care. She’d be talking about cats, and I’d be thinking about poker, BMX… really I would be thinking about anything, because pretty much everything was more interesting to me than cats at the time.

One day after we’d been living together for a few months she was leaving our apartment for work and heard some meowing upstairs. She walked up the stairs and found a tiny grey cat, skinny as could be walking around in the empty apartment upstairs. The cat was only about 4 months old we’d later learn. She brought it down to the apartment, called in late to work and then bought the cat some food and water. I was just annoyed. I didn’t really care that there was a cat there, but I knew somehow I’d be roped into paying for food, vet bills, etc. It didn’t help that the cat had been discovered at 9 in the morning and I was still trying to sleep, which was difficult because the cat kept trying to chew on my toes.

Regardless, she was set on keeping the cat and I didn’t really care. She named her Olive after a brief 8 hour stint of calling her Brooklyne, because of her green eyes. For the first few days she just annoyed me. She’d lay in front of my computer monitor while I was trying to work, try to eat my food while I ate and basically just bug me all the time. But eventually I fell for her and found myself obsessively watching her go about her normal every day tasks. The whole cat thing finally made sense to me.

A few months later, we found ourselves in the market for another cat. Olive’s life was astoundingly boring and although I’m sure she was fine with it, it was almost kind of depressing that she didn’t have a friend to play with. So we went to an animal shelter in Williamsburg to look for a kitten. We wanted a tiny little kitten, and we didn’t realize at the time that if you want a kitten, going to an animal shelter isn’t a great idea, this one at least was almost all older cats, at least a few years old. My girlfriend wasn’t into it. She wanted a kitten, something tiny, and most of the cats at the shelter were big fatso’s. I didn’t really understand how serious a decision getting a cat is, so I was being kind of flippant about the whole thing and wanted to get a cat regardless. One cat in particular stood out to me. His name was Stewie and he was a big fat white cat that would try to nibble on your fingers when you put them near his cage. I didn’t know why, but I wanted him. My ex begrudgingly agreed. We paid his 100 dollar adoption fee and took him home.

Olive wasn’t happy, at all. We tried to slowly bring them together but it was a bad scene, whenever she’d get near him she’d swat at him and attack him. We had to keep them separated for a long time and they’d fight constantly even when we eventually started letting them hang out all the time. We changed Stewie’s name to Tony, reasoning that he looked like a big fat brick of cocaine and that Tony is a name you often associate with coke and gangsterism (Tony Montana, Tony Soprano, Tony Yayo), despite the fact that neither of us did coke. I still don’t, her, uh…

The thing about Tony that made him so different from Olive was that he was mean. Olive wasn’t the most cuddley cat… she was clearly a little mentally scarred from her days spent on the streets, but she’d curl up next to you and snuggle, and no matter how long and hard you rubbed her belly she wouldn’t bite you or hit you. Tony on the other hand, was not okay with having his tummy, back or tail touched. If you touched any part of him aside from his head he would start blasting away at you with his ultra-powerful hind legs, and biting you. If that didn’twork, he’s jump up and run away. He slowly warmed up to us, but he has always been pretty mean. He’s significantly nicer to me than he is to most people, but he is a cat where you really have to know his boundaries and not try to push it. If you treat him good and don’t touch him in places where he doesn’t like to be touched, he’ll warm up to you and you’ll wake up to him snuggling in your lap in the morning.

We eventually got another cat, Luna, above, who I never really bonded with. She’s cool I guess. She was another stray that my ex and I captured in a cardboard box after my ex saw her walking up and down our block over and over for a period of a few days. I was opposed to getting a third cat, but she forced the issue and I ended up just dealing with it. The only thing I can really say about Luna that I liked was that she was absolutely in love with Tony and they would cuddle constantly while Olive brooded in the corner like the jaded lesbian that she painted herself as.

We lived together for a year and got 3 cats during that time period. Good idea right? Wrong. When I eventually dumped her, what to do with the cats became as important an issue as the fact that I had just broken her heart. I ended up moving in with my friend Brendan right away and he is allergic to cats, so there wasn’t an option for me to take one (it was just assumed that I would take Tony since he was “mine” and the other 2 were hers), so she moved out and got a place with her friends in Bushwick and housed all 3 beasts. She wasn’t stoked, and the fact that she was totally broke didn’t help matters.

So began the year long period in my life where I paid cat child support. People have told me they thought this idea was hilarious, but I never really thought it seemed that weird. Cat litter and food can be expensive, so I ended up giving her 50 bucks a month to pay for it. We had a pretty tense relationship after the break up that would mostly consist of me riding my bike to her apartment, giving her 50 dollars and then her trying to convince me to sleep with her or just telling me stories about other dudes she had slept with in an attempt to anger me (the angering me part worked, the sleeping with me part didn’t).

But then, she decided to move. She wasn’t happy in NYC and her Father was dealing with some health conditions, so she left town and left Tony at my apartment. Luckily my sister Sarah who lives in Salem, MA has a cat of her own and offered to take Tony off my hands for a while since my roommate is still allergic and my traveling schedule makes handling a cat difficult. Here’s Tony with his current brother, Charlie. They are in love:

Over the years I’ve made a variety of shirts representing Tony:

Here’s the original incarnation. I wanted to print up a bunch of cheap, basic TCU shirts to give away while we were on Megatour. Aaron Burto did the design for me (I’m pretty sure it took about 5 minutes) and we didn’t end up giving away most of them, we gave away some but at some point during the hell that was Megatour we kinda forgot about it and I ended up selling them through the web store and they sold really well.

Next came this Raiders rip-off that I thought was pretty funny. This was honestly one of the slowest selling TCU shirts though even though I personally thought it was cool. I guess that as funny as I thought it was, it was still pretty ugly.

Here’s the most recent Tony-based shirt. I hit up Nick from Holeshot about doing a Come Up shirt and when he asked what I wanted it to look like, I just told him that I wanted Tony in it somewhere. He came up with the idea to place Tony in the jungle amongst his ancestors. I like this one and still wear it pretty frequently, and it sold pretty well. I almost want to make more in another colorway, but I’m not sure what colors would work.

Finally we have the Lotek x TCU shoe which is in the works. Rich proposed this idea to me about a year ago and I was super into it. He asked what color I wanted it to be, and I said I didn’t care I just wanted Tony on the insole. Harrison Boyce actually ended up drawing up the color scheme for it and from what I’ve seen, it looks really good. The photo above is just a sample but if all goes well they should be dropping in March with some corresponding Lotek x TCU shirts to go with.

Some people might ask what reason I could possibly have to put Tony on so many shirt designs and to have essentially crafted him into The Come Up’s mascot. Really I just like his attitude. He keeps to himself and has a hard exterior, but every once in a while he lets a little bit of loving shine through. He’s clearly got trust issues and is very cautious about letting anyone get too close to him. His years on the streets did a number on him. He reminds me of myself a lot, which is why I think I took to him so much.

Anyway, that’s why I like cats.

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.