TCH Gets Tased

So I know I make bad decisions on impulse all the time, but this time really takes the cake. For the newspaper, I went to the Police Training academy to see the trainees being prepared for their roles as police officers and undercover work.

Now, if you read the first sentence of this, you already know this story is bad news bears. I mix with cops as well as I do with Tea Party ralliers. But everyone was entertained by my smart ass comments involving meth busts so we all got along. However, at the end, the trainees got tased by a taser gun. After watching this my curious little monkey head got to thinking. So I VOLUNTEERED myself for the cops to tase me. VOLUNTEERED! The cop doing the tasing was so amused with me he agreed to do it, so long as I put it in the paper and commented on what it is like to be tased. So I signed a waiver and went to the bathroom (because apparently some people cannot control their bodies and piss themselves like drunks when electrocuted, crazy).

After that I put on one of the MPD t-shirts and these two cops held on to my arms so I didn't flail. Then I got shot in the back with a taser gun....don't do this. What happened upon my being, not only purposely, but voluntarily electrocuted by a man was not fun at all. I screamed FUCK at the top of my lungs and fell to my knees instantly. It felt like getting shocked 1,000 times, which is exactly what is going on so that makes sense. But I couldn't move my body at all and my head was about explode. It was like having knives stabbing you in the back and having the pain spread, but it was all internal. It was like a hit to my soul. It was like I got hit by Eric Berry... It was kind of like an orgasm in reverse.

Someone took pictures of this and I asked them to send them to me. I will post them for all to see when they come in. They have to be hilarious. I was screaming and falling on the ground like drunk sorority slut during formal. I think I have a welt too. But they let me keep the shirt that said Police Department. I will do anything for a free t-shirt.

Bottom line: you don't want to be tased. Just like drinking and driving, sex without protection and taking relationship advice from my friends, this is one more lesson I had to learn the hard way.

Mother's Day...with class

In the grand tradition of little brothers everywhere, mine is a little shit. The one time he does something positive, he still manages to to do it the worst, stupidest way possible. So Mother's Day is coming up and I was thrilled to find out Little Brother got our mom a gift already. I went to his place to meet up with him and see what he got her. The following conversation ensued:

Little Brother: I went to Brookstone and got her this mini-massager. Since she is always sore and stuff. It's like a little neck massager.
TCH: What? You have to be kidding me. You got our mom a vibrator for Mother's Day?
LITTLE BROTHER: It's not a vibrator! You are so perverted! It is a mini-massager.
TCH: What the hell does that mean? Those are vibrators you, ass hat! Women don't use those for their sore necks or arms or whatever! Haven't you ever seen an episode of Sex and the City?
LITTLE BROTHER: You are ridiculous and sick. It's a massager! And it was Buy-one-get-one-free. It was a good deal.
TCH: Oh man, I gotta see this.

He then pulls out the mini-massagers from a bag. One is pink and the other is blue - his and hers vibrating pleasure machines, if you will. They were even in a phallic shape. I picked both of them up from their boxes with each hand and held them like I was skiing. This is what it must feel like to be in a threesome porn. I was almost ready for one to blast me in the eye. Not vibrators, my ass.

TCH: I don't believe this! It's suppose to be a family-friendly holiday and you got our 60 year old mother a vibrator!
LITTLE BROTHER: It massages you! It says so!

I looked at the box and it just said to press a button for intensity and apply to certain areas where vibrations are needed...I'm not even going to go there....too easy.

LITTLE BROTHER: Women don't use these for vibrators! You just hang around sluts!
TCH: That is true but I know from Cosmo, television and from going to a Twilight bookclub meeting for Twimoms that women use these as vibrators and that is it, you idiot. You don't even know any women!
LITTLE BROTHER: Whatever. I don't believe you.

In all fairness and because my brother is an arrogant bastard like all youngest children, I would like to put this debate to a vote. Below I have included a picture of the said "mini-massager" and I have posted a poll (located in the upper-right corner). Voting is anonymous so feel free to cast your vote without judgement. But if you think this penis-shaped, vibrating, pleasure provider is used to actually massage women's necks then feel free to agree with my brother. And feel free to be wrong.

Waffle House and Tit Cakes don't mix with Sobriety

Author’s Note: I was sober through this entire ordeal.

I always said I would try to lose weight when I could no longer score free drinks at a bar. This time occurred in college, after taking the “freshman 15” to new levels, so I went on a serious diet. Because we live in a cruel world, alcohol is loaded with calories, thus my drinking was cut back to only Adult weekends (College weekends begin on Wednesday) and mostly consisted of rum. Life was hard. I didn’t even break for special celebrations because in college there was always some damn Columbus Day of a reason to celebrate with alcohol. Therefore, on the night of Golden Jew’s 22nd birthday I was able to witness all of my friends in their own drunken glory through the purest of eyes.

The night began in the jubilant land of Wine Night (for a more detailed description of this weekly festivus see The Worst Hangover of My Life). Golden Jew was celebrating by having a nice dinner with friends (meaning getting slammed with each other as opposed to a party) which included myself, my roommate Tits Magee, Goldilocks, Pigtails, Hot Mess and my best guy friends Swayze and Flagpole. Because we all enjoyed acting like a perverted version of a family, Hot Mess baked him a cake. Of course the cake she baked was shaped like giants titties that she purchased on one of our impromptu roadtrips to a sex store in Kentucky (don’t ask). Props to Hot Mess because the Tit Cake looked awesome! After Golden Jew molested it we all decided to bar hop around the Strip near the university after Wine Night. There is immediate drama when the drinking begins per usual.
This fuck rag I commonly refer to as Jailboy was present at Wine Night and he was wasted. He was only there because he was stalking Goldilocks. Like a dumbass she was nice to him and led him on out of the goodness of her heart but mostly it was because of the great depth of her low self esteem that can only be achieved by really pretty girls. He hated me and all of Goldilock’s friends because we are awesome and he sucked. At the bar, she was talking to her current suitor Long Hair. No, he isn’t Native American, he just had long hair. And Jailboy called her a slut or something so I immediately called him a prick in her defense, but then he got in my face. Well, he was like 5’6 so he kinda got in my face.

Jailboy: You got something to say to me?

I was about to yell but remembering he was white trash and might hit me I turned around to see if my friends had my back. Tits Magee was sitting in her usual spot chain-smoking and not about to take the energetic five steps to defend me. Goldilocks was pretending nothing was going on to impress Long Hair. Golden Jew was raucously laughing to himself and probably wanted to see me get hit for his entertainment. Swayze was schmoozing with some bitch with a dyke haircut. Pigtails and Hot Mess were simultaneously performing lap dances on Flagpole and completely oblivious to anything but making him blush. Fuck my friends. I could take this guy.

TCH: Actually, yes, I do. I hate you. Please get the fuck out of this bar because it is for people who are smart enough to go to colleges not online. You are mean to my friend and you aren’t even hot! So walk the fuck home! (He didn’t have a car. Naturally).

Jailboy: fuck you fat, cunt, ugly, whore, shitty, bitch, scraggly…blah.

This went on for a hot minute. And just as Swayze was about to come over and punch him in the face, Jailboy tripped over a chair, spilled wine all over himself, and got kicked out of the bar, sparing him any last bit of dignity. Goldilocks felt bad because that guy was mean to me (I think so) but I just told her it was ok, we all slum it in college, and this Long Hair boy better treat her nicer.

After Wine Night we headed to the Skankiest Bar in America because they had a dance floor and my friends love looking stupid in public. However, this endeavor lasted about five minutes because Pigtails and Hot Mess were swinging around these polls like strippers and falling down on their asses and consequently showing all their goodies to every creeper there, which got us immediately kicked out. But then we went to the Greatest College Bar Ever and the dancing continued. The falling and flashing strangers continued but we never got kicked out because we were on a first name basis with the bartenders, this being the Greatest College Bar Ever and all. However, travesty struck when Pigtails, Hot Mess and Tits Magee decided to do shots. Rough enough when one does them, but all three and it’s Bad News Bears. First off, Pigtails was forbidden by all of us to drink liquor due to an unfortunate birthday assault where she tried to kill some people. She was only allowed ONE shot per night thereafter or we learned she would turn into something violent and evil. Kind of like a gremlin.
The guys were no better. I went to the bathroom and got a picture text from Goldilocks’ phone of her in some lingerie. Knowing there is shadiness afoot I see Goldi scamming Long Hair at the bar for drinks and Golden Jew was the sole person at our table, giggling uncontrollably. I confronted him.

TCH: You are an asshole for sending that from her phone.

Golden Jew: I only sent it to you.

Flagpole (walks up): Why would Goldilocks send me a text of her in underwear?

I just glared at Golden Jew who found this even more hysterical. Then Tits Magee came up and complained about how her tits are too big for her shirt so she just pulled her shirt below her boobs, exposing her orange bra. She would walk around like this for the rest of the evening. Following suit Hot Mess came up to dance/hump the guys at our table when, out of the corner of my eye, I see some creeper reach up her dress. I then realize this is just Golden Jew as he rips her thong out, which she proceeds to swirl around her head and yell, “VICTORY!”

When we leave this bar and walk home everyone had to chase around Pigtails who was in her own level of drunk. She had no shoes on for some reason and kept falling down but would hit anyone who touched her. Flagpole was the main one chasing her down for safety but he got distracted when Hot Mess’s dress strap broke, which made the top part fall down so that she was running around in her bra and not much else, thong in hand. When the cops drove by Flagpole used his body to hide her nudity. What a gentleman. By this time Pigtails had ran away somewhere so I had to search for her for like an hour only to find her in a dark alley passed out among dirt, broken glass and probably the DNA of many a rapist. When I drug her into my apartment a security guard knocked on my door to tell me we “lost one.” And that Hot Mess was passed out in the bushes.
When Pigtails was contained and calm, Goldilocks ditched us for Long Hair and I tried to get to sleep but singing awaked me in my living room. I went in there to find Flagpole, Golden Jew and Tits Magee with their arms locked front to back singing “My Heart Will Go On” at the top of their lungs. I yelled and told them to shut the fuck up because I had class and they just laughed at me because no one respects a drunken slut trying to be responsible. So I gave up on sleep unlike Swayze who was passed out on the couch. Flagpole and Golden Jew decided to draw on him since his shoes were on and it was only fair. They wrote the word “DICK” across his forehead and drew a huge penis on the side of his face with semen droplets shooting into his mouth. Didn’t I meet the classiest people in college? Then, in a moment of brilliance, Golden Jew suggested a trip to Waffle House and gets Swayze up to go with us. When the six of us got to Waffle House there were only college aged people there and one table saw Swayze’s face and immediately started yelling out, “DICKHEAD! DICKHEAD!” but they were shushed by us. Our waitress, Catangela, looked at Swayze and gasped, “Oh, honey child!” but Tits Magee got her to be quiet too and Catangela called us “foolish folk.”

Eventually Pigtails felt bad for Swayze because random patrons kept coming to our table to take pictures of him, laugh and call him Dickhead. So she takes him to the bathroom to wash the marker off his face. He then drunkenly, figured out what was going on so he barreled out of the bathroom yelling obscenities at all of us.

Swayze: You MOTHERFUCKERS I am gonna KILL you. ASSHOLES! You guys crossed a line! Tonight in your sleep I am going to slap each one of you in the face with my DICK!

Naturally, the angry outburst sent everyone into fits of hysteria. The guy at the next table was peeved at our loud and childish behavior and asked us to be civilized and we told Catangela to which she responded, “Civilized? At the Waffle House?” A few minutes later, Pigtails came back from the bathroom and told me she made out with Flagpole while she was in there. Nothing like love blossoming in the bathroom stalls of Waffle House.

The next morning there was a panic when no one could find Flagpole. I was worried that he had been kidnapped, or got in a drunken accident and was hurt, or worst of all, hooked up with Pigtails. But when she hadn’t seen him either I figured we could treat our friend like a lost dog and if he didn’t show up by sundown then we could post some flyers with his picture on them asking, “have you seen this man?” But he turned up asleep in the spare bedroom of my apartment that he somehow broke into the night before. When I called to tell Golden Jew I had found him, Golden Jew told me he just got done talking with Goldilocks and her night with Long Hair.

TCH: That is great! He seems a lot more respectable than that other loser who liked her.

Golden Jew: Ha! Last night Long Hair came on her face!

TCH: What? What the hell? How does that even come up in conversation?

Golden Jew: He did it like a porn star! She didn’t even know that makes her a dirty whore now. Not as dirty as Tits Magee, but still. HAHA! But she still thinks he respects her. She said she is coming to your place and we are all going to have a serious discussion about what this means for her relationship.

TCH: Seriously?

Golden Jew: Of course.

That was the day I quit my sobriety. With friends who get together for reasons like this, it is best to drink heavily and drink often.

TCH Establishes Nightly Rate

So this one notorious evening I once had recently came back to haunt me. And no, I didn't find out I had an STD. But I ran into this guy in memphis the other day when I was with my mother and spent an hour hiding in the self-help section of a bookstore trying to avoid him. when you hear what I did you will know why.

A few weeks after I got canned from my last job I decided to go back to school in Knoxville. So my last weekend in Memphis had to be left in true TCH style. I remember it was football season and my Vols just got their asses kicked by Florida in the Swamp once again so I was already drunk and not looking to go out because I was mad (see why I am depressed). But my friends Amanda and Jennifer were going out to a karaoke bar and some guys were going so I decided to go for a little bit. One can imagine how this turned out. First, I'm wearing some Vols clothes and people talk shit all night because this bar is near University of Memphis which, as I have found, is full of haters so I get riled up early on. Then Amanda gets this brilliant (read: terrible) idea to start doing shots of some kind of blue shit which of course tastes awesome so I have like 200 of them. Then Jennifer brings some of her guy friends to the bar. Amanda and Jennifer both have boyfriends so I love hanging out with them because they are always passing guys my way. I have the greatest friends. Both of Jennifer's friends are tall and cute (at the time anyway) and I immediately tell her that. But then the cuter one, who looks like Roy from The Office, has to ruin it by speaking, like so many men do.

ROY : Sorry we had to beat you guys today. (looking at my Vols shirt)
TCH: Oh, did you go to Florida?
ROY: No.
TCH: Are you from Florida?
ROY : No.
TCH: You ever been to Florida?
ROY: Not really.
TCH: Then why do you even like them?
ROY: Oh, I just always liked them ever since I was a little kid, my dad was a fan too.
TCH: Aren't you like 30?
ROY: I'm 34
TCH: (completely trashed) Florida didn't even have a team when you were a kid! They couldn't hack it to save their lives. The only people that could sprint through a field were the damn Cubans trying to avoid border patrol and elderly Jewish women in their cadillacs!!
ROY: But they won today!
TCH: I hope a hurricaine blows that school away and it's fans get eaten by alligators in the floods.

ROY who will now be referred to as Mr. Douche, is laughing at my animosity. I look at his friend, who is also cute and has some nice arms in his t-shirt.

NICE ARMS: I'm a huge UT fan!

...and done.

Since I am billigerent at this point and so are my friends I wander around the bar and socialize. I make friends with everyone except for people who want to talk about sports. Now, there are two things TCH never does at bar: Karaoke and Dancing. I love karaoke bars, but I don't ever participate. I can humiliate myself in public without a microphone all the time. And I don't dance because dancing is stupid. I never understood the point and never do it so I am probably bad at it. But on this magical evening I was doing both. Or so I was told. However, after completing what I am sure was a glorious rendition of Summer Nights with a new friend I met, someone once again made a crack about the Vols losing. So then in my microphone I call the guy a number of obscenities ranging from "a bandwagon pussy" to a "cunt muscle" and that it wasn't my fault he couldn't get into college. I didn't know that guy, but I know he didn't go to Florida. Someone took my microphone and everything was blurry. Jennifer then tells me I got us kicked out so we had to go home. She then tells me that Mr. Douche wants to hook up with me really badly and I tell her he doesn't have a shot in hell. Outside in the parking lot he confronts me.
MR. DOUCHE: You don't want to make out or anything? You told Jennifer I was cute!
TCH: Sorry. I don't fuck Florida fans.
MR. DOUCHE: You can't be serious.
TCH: ...

Don't say I'm not a real fan. I then grab his friend NICE ARMS to come with me. And MR. Douche tries to cockblock because he is a douche and likes Florida. I really do give my ALL to the Vols.

I got back to NICE ARMS' house and was way too wasted to be there. I realize this when I throw up and pass out on the bathroom floor. However, he is completely trashed too and cares not. I finally get up and put my game face on and THEN hook up with him on the couch. I hardly remember anything. He said after we finished screwing around he passed out on the couch and I spent like 2 hours watching the movie The Mist on the Sci-Fi channel. I've never even heard of that movie. So that part was fuzzy to me but I do remember getting up still terribly inebriated and looking around the house at things. I looked at his medicines and then googled them on the internet to see what he was taking, none of which I specifically remember. Then I looked in his closet to see if he really had any Vols clothes to show his fandom (he did) and while I was in there I saw this gigantic bucket of change. It was a bucket from this popular bar on Beale St. that I remember because of its beer drinking goat and these huge buckets of alcohol. This bucket was filled to the brim with change. Now, don't ask me why I did this. I've never stolen anything in my life but for some reason in my drunken stupor I picked up that huge bucket with two hands and ran, butt-naked, out to my car and put it in the backseat. Good thing it was 4am or the neighbors would have gotten a show. I then went inside his house and slept in his bed that he wasn't even in. The next day he woke me up and we ate some breakfast and talked a little and then politely exchanged phone numbers like we would actually call each other and I left. I completely forgot that I had stolen that huge bucket of change hidden under that backseat. It was until weeks later that I discovered it when cleaning out my car.

I felt so guilty I thought about giving it back, but then I realized that would make me look insane so I decided to just keep it. It was just change anyway. One of my friends eventually convinced me to take it to Coinstar to cash it in and see how much change was in there. So I casually took it one day. You can imagine my suprise when I cashed it in and the total amount of change was $352.47!!!!

And with that, I just established my rate for a one night stand. I'd like to think of it as karma. I did the right thing by going home with the Vol fan and not the Florida fan, therefore I was rewarded. In some twisted fucked up way, it was a gift. Pure TCH karma.