Sunday, April 16, 2006

Cameron Tries Altruism, Is Rewarded Handsomely

One of my best friends George just broke up with his live in 2-year girlfriend. Upon hearing the news, I told him I was sorry. He called me a liar and I told him I felt it would be inappropriate to dance a jig on the bar.

To say his ex and I didn’t get along would be like saying the Holocaust was unpleasant for the Jews. I referred to her almost exclusively as “George’s chick” and would constantly ask him, in front of her, “when are you going to break up with this bitch?” Which, at one point, caused her to dump a drink on me. There was some tension. Unfortunately, George actually loved this one and at her request, he and I started hanging out less and less. Luckily, with her gone, the dynamic duo are reunited and with me just coming out of a rather serious relationship, we can commiserate and get really, really drunk together.

Saturday night George, myself and four other buddies went out to show him what he had been missing from single life. I was determined to get him laid and since I have been having a hall-of-fame month, batting in the .750 range with 6 home runs, I figured an RBI would look good on my resume too. I explain to him that “tonight, your cock is my cock” and then slapped him in the balls because that is the retarded, juvenile, slightly homo-erotic game we play. I then tell him to quit crying and get his game face on.

The next four hours are a blur of a dozen or so bars. I hit on every acceptable piece of tail I see and then just point them at George. Noting is taking. He’s still a little too depressed to take full advantage of the soft-balls I’m lobbing at him and we continue to bounce from bar to bar. I keep setting him up and he keeps whiffing. I pull him a side and offer him some inspirational words. Something along the lines of “What’s your fucking deal fag? I’m throwing snatch at you and you’re just sitting the pouting because that whore broke up with you? Guess what? She fucking sucked and the best thing you can do right now is fuck the shit out of some random. You do still like pussy right? Because after you performance tonight I’m starting to wonder.” That seemed to do the trick. He began to perk up. We’re right back in the game. We walk out of the bar at the night takes a horrible turn.

I see a familiar face on the street and turn to grab George but it’s too late he’s seen what I have. His ex, her tits almost falling out of her skimpy hooker top arm in arm with another guy. Their eyes lock and in George’s face I see the hurt, anger and confusion that I know all too well. Fuck. I have many options here but I decide to do what any good friend would do. I stepped back and let George take a swing at the guy.

By the expression on his face you could tell the poor bastard had no idea what was going on all he could be sure of it this was gonna suck. George landed a blow, which knocked the guy into the street where he nearly got hit by a car. This got everybody’s attention and the cries of “Fight!” rang loud in the chaotic night. Suddenly the reality of the situation hit me like George’s fist on an unsuspecting guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. I look around and realize that, just like every other Saturday night on Division there are three occupied cop cars about half a block away. It wouldn’t have been a huge deal but in our possession was a substance that when added to assault, disturbing the peace, and public intoxication equals jail time. I act quickly, grab George and throw him into the first cab I see. He is screaming like a fucking baboon and everyone is trying to console him which is making him angrier and angrier.

We go to another bar I send everyone in and tell George we’re taking a walk. We go back to my apartment and I begin to talk him down. I speak from a deeper wisdom I was unaware I possessed. I drew on my recent experience my friendship with George and my observations of his relationship. All the while exercising the versatility of the word fuck. It was a fucking masterpiece. I was amazed at my self. More importantly though, it worked. George was finally calm and we met up with the guys at the bar.

When I walked in surprise number two of the evening was sitting at the bar. Kelly, a girl from high school. Without getting into too much detail Kelly may have been one of the most unhealthy experiences I have ever had with a girl. While I realize that’s like a alcoholic picking out the worst drink he ever had she will always stand out as a disaster. She approached me and we talked for a while when finally I saw an opening. “You know how many favors you owe me? I’m cashing them all in right now. That’s my buddy George. He’s had a rough night and you’re going to go fuck him.” She looks over and says, “Ok, he’s cute.” and walks toward him. I motion to George to let him what’s going on and leave them alone. My job here is done, no-one could boot this lay-up. Kelly was there with Audrey another girl from high school who just moved to Chicago and essentially immediately started fucking me. She grabs me and tells me she is moving tomorrow. I shrug apathetically but she immediately gets my attention “I’m leaving tomorrow. I need your cock in my mouth tonight.” Now I’m listening. “Alright, I have to go take care of something but we’ll at your apartment in half an hour.” “Who’s we?” “Kelly and I.”

On a night where my only goal is to get my friend laid, I go home with two girls. All this time I thought the gods punished hubris.

Cameron’s St. Pat’s Miracle.

As many of you have noticed there have been no stories on my site for over a year now. When asked why my response was always “that kind of crazy shit just doesn’t happen to me anymore.” I chalked it up to maturing and becoming an adult as I watched the aura of my former self fade over the horizon like a winter sunset. It was strange to release that part of me in exchange for more adult activities but I just assumed it was time. That was until March when from the ashes of a break-up a Phoenix rose more powerful than ever.

I have been on fucking fire this month, rock stars have had less fun than I have. Almost non-stop drinking, partying and women. All of a sudden “that kind of crazy shit” did start happening again and luckily for me it started right around St Patrick’s Day. Here in Chicago, especially this year St. Patrick’s Day lasts a week, literally. The actual day fell on a Friday but the previous Saturday was the Downtown Parade, Sunday was the South side Irish Parade, and no one really seemed to take a break. Between the first streak of nice weather and a build in excuse to be an alcoholic this town turned into a week long college kegger.

The day of the Downtown parade I, like our entire staff, worked at the bar but by 11:00 P.M. everybody had drunk themselves retarded and I was cut. I took this opportunity to talk to a girl with who I had hooked up with a few years earlier, Melissa. I’ve always kind of had a thing for her but nothing ever really happened between us for various geographical and relationship issues, but at this moment she’s here and we’re single. We were bullshitting when all of a sudden she asked “Do you have weed at your apartment?” Of course I did. “Who do you think your talking to?” “Well if you want to go smoke I’ll make it worth your while.” And were off.

We smoke a bowl, make out and things are going well. I excuse my self to take a piss and give myself a pep talk. When I return however I find her passed out on the couch. I try to wake her and she explains her immediate need for a trashcan, in which she absolutely unleashes her stomach contents. When she’s finished I try to move her into the bedroom and after some arguing and struggling I finally get her in bed where she almost immediately rolls off the mattress hits her head on the nightstand, falls to the floor and again mutters “trashcan.” As I bring her the almost half full bucket o’ puke I begin to wonder if this is what she meant by making it worth my while. I give her a pillow and blanket and almost get kicked in the face trying to take off her shoes. I take a quick survey of the situation and realize that this is clearly going nowhere, it is only midnight I have a good 5 hours of drinking to do. I make sure the trashcan is with in reach and tell Melissa that I’m going out. She grunts something and passes out.

Confused by the turn of events but happy the puke didn’t end up on me this time, I wander to my local late night bar and it is packed with tail. I ignore my friends who are there and immediately go to work on a tall brunette with bright blue eyes. I’m funny, she’s drunk, and I know what happens next but suddenly I think, “Wait. What’s my plan here? Take her home and say ‘yeah, just move the drunk chick out of the way she’s passed out. It’ll be fine we’ll make it a two-and-a-half-some.’” I seriously consider it for a moment but decide instead to go to the one place I can be guaranteed there will be no attractive women. I head over to my bar

I belly up to the bar and begin to tell the story of what happened after I left. Some laugh some are sympathetic and others call me an asshole. I have a few beers and am just about to leave when one of my random hook-ups walks in. She sits next to me and after a little small talk I decide it’s the bottom of the ninth I’m 0 for 1 and it’s time to swing for the fences. If I’m going down it’s swinging. I turn to her and say “I’m going to the back bathroom, come blow me.” With out another word I get up and do exactly what I said I would. 10 seconds later there is a knock at the door. “Cam? You in there.”

It could be. It might be. It is. A homerun.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

The Aristocrats

For anyone who hasn't seen the movie The Aristocrats go rent it. It is a documentary on a joke that is well known throughout the comic community. The joke consists of only the opening and the punch-line. The middle of the joke allows the teller to create what usually becomes the most disgusting acts his warped mind can conceive. After watching the movie I had to come up with my own version of the joke. Here it is. A warning this is vile, horrific and wrong in every sense of the word. Enjoy.

A man walks into a talent agent with an idea for a show. He describes it as a family show with his pregnant wife his son daughter and even the family dog. The agent is hesitant but asks the man to proceed. “Ok” he starts:

“The show opens with my wife alone on the stage lit by a spotlight, cradling her pregnant belly singing quietly to our new child. A second spotlight illuminates my young daughter brushing the hair of her doll and singing the same song and she and her mother’s beautiful voices meet in a moving chorus. Another light shows my son quietly drawing. As the song draws to a close I enter holding a bottle of whiskey which I drink. After the bottle is empty I walk over to my wife and shove the bottle up her as and really start to give it to he back and forth until it creates a vacuum. I then yank the bottle out of her ass which collapses her anus at takes some intestine out with it I keep pulling until there in a good three or four feet of entrails hanging out of her rectum. My son then stands up from his drawing and starts blowing me. After a while I break the bottle over his head and use the glass to stab a hole in my daughters stomach which I then begin to fuck until she vomits. At about this point the family dog Sparky comes on stage and grabs the pink sock hanging out of my wife’s ass and plays a game of tug-o-war. Mean while my unconscious son lies bleeding and looses control of his bowels defecating all over the stage. My daughter starts jacking off the dog into the puddle of blood and shit and vomit. I grab a hanger and fish the unborn fetus out of my wife’s womb Poke a hole in its tender skull and begin to fuck it in the head. When I come blood, embryonic fluids, undeveloped brain matter and jiz begin to spill out of the eye sockets into the puddle of fluids already surrounding my son. As I pull my member out of the skull my wife licks my cock clean as I anally fist my young daughter and stomp the fetus into the ever growing pool of fluid which is now being saturated with my wife and daughters collective tears. When the time is right the whole family, minus the boy who is barley clinging to life, get down on all fours and lick the stage clean. We take a bow as the curtains close.”

The agent sits in shock and finally asks, “What do you call such a thing?”

The man replies confidently “The Aristocrats”

Friday, October 21, 2005

Guess who's back in the mutha fuckin house with a big fat dick for your mutha fuckin mouth . . .

Alright, I finally have a place of residence with a computer and Internet access.

Stay tuned I have new stories and other shit that I will be posting soon.

Thanks for your patience.


Thursday, June 30, 2005

Hello Bitches,

I realize the has been nothing new on the site recently. I'm working on that so back off. I have been dealing with some serious health issues and other shit I also quit the job that allowed me reliable access to a fast Internet connection. I am working on a few things including a mini-epic about my 2 and a half week hospital stay.

Hope everyone is doing well

Take it easy


Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Whoring for the Man

As you may have noticed, I put some adds on the site. I tried to make them as inconspicuous as possible. I don't really like it but they are a necessary evil for a a couple of reasons.

If everyone could do me a favor and click on a few of them when you visit it would really help me out. You don't have to buy anything just click.

Also, there will be a new story out soon, (possibly 2) if you're not already on the mailing list. Sign up now by e-mailing me ( with something like 'mailing list' as the subject



Friday, March 11, 2005

I am Jack's Imaginary Stuffed Tiger

Normally, I just put these things in the Random Links section but this was so incredibly entertaining and insightful that I felt it deserved its own post.

This article explains that the Edward Norton character in Fight Club is actualy an adult Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes. Take some time to read it.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

I Am a Fantasy Baseball Manager. You Are a Huge Nerd

I'd like to first apologize to all of you who aren't at all interested in sports and read only my stories while skipping the articles devoted to baseball. Just to forewarn you, as The Season is almost upon us my site will probably be saturated with more sports related writings, there will still be stories and stuff but those of you who know me are aware that baseball consumes a majority of my time from April-October.

The following post is (optimistically) probably interesting to about 3 people other than myself, but I wanted to put it up anyway. It is an account of my fantasy baseball draft from Wednesday night.

I'm not going to pretend that fantasy sports are not incredibly nerdy, because let's face it, they are. I don't care. I love doing it. It gives me an interesting perspective on the game and it's numbers while at the same time having characteristics completely unique unto itself. There are strategies and tricks like everything else and while an overwhelming knowledge of baseball is extremely helpful it won't stand up alone.

Our league, now in its second year, consists of ten teams:

Six, returning from last year:

Fired for 'Roids - Sean (Co-Commissioner and my arch rival in this)

Bunch of Idiots - Kevin (The Tampa Ray Devil Rays of Fantasy Baseball)

More Chin Music 4U - Chad (Last years surprise winner who snuck past me in the Championships after an entire season of shellackings at my hands)

Skirt in the Dirt - Victoria (The chick)

Evil Empire - Kenny (A die hard Yankees fan who can be tricked into
ridiculous trades as long as he is getting someone who is currently or once had an at bat in pinstripes)

Killah Cam - Me (the other Co-Commissioner. That's right, bitches,

And four new invitees:

Alpha-Betas - Cappy (Will talk more shit than anyone regardless of success)

Sosa's Bitch - Bucces (Has no idea what he's doing, just along for the ride)

ChiSox - Joe (I'm not sure if he knows either)

Orihoes - Dan (Kinda got roped into it because we needed a tenth and he happened to be there at the time)

We use Yahoo's fantasy league because it's free and easy and has customizable scoring. We use 17 different statistics (batting average, runs, hits, homeruns, RBI's, stolen bases, strikeouts, fielding percentage, and OPS for position players and innings pitched, wins, losses, saves, strike outs, holds and WHIP for the pitchers) A team consists of 23 players total: 8 starting position players 5 bench players 10 pitchers that can be any combination of starters, relievers and closers. Every day you start 8 position players, 2 starting pitchers 2 bullpen guys and 1 other pitcher that can be a starter or reliever.

Every week the teams compete head to head in each category every day. For every statistic in which a team scores higher than his opponent, he gets a win and vice versa. Standings are kept just like MLB and during the last few weeks of the season, there is a play-off/World Series-esque match up to determine who is the winner.

Other than pride and an off-season of bragging rights each manager puts in $50. Second place gets his money back and the winner gets $400 (plus his 50)

This year, in keeping with tradition, we are having a live draft at a bar. There are a few things that ALWAYS happen during this time, a ridiculous amount of shit talking and mind games designed to ruin peoples confidence and force them to make stupid picks, half the people insisting that it's moving too fast while the others complain that it's too slow both resulting in half-retarded picks fueled either by waning interest and the desire to speed things along or feeling like you are pressed
for time and throwing out names like Vinny Castillia or Paul Bako. By far my favorite aspect for the live draft is the inevitable late round, drunken, heart pick. This year my money is on Kenny falling for Tino Martinez way too early.

As I mentioned this is definitely dorky but there is $400 and the right to talk shit on the table so I have been preparing for weeks. Reading every early scouting report, spring training box scores and of course heading the infinite wisdom of Peter Gammons, a man who has consumed so much baseball knowledge in his life, he could take a shit that could bat .300 with 40 HR and 115 RBI's. I'm ready.

A few things one must remember when compiling a fantasy team: Offensive players are much more valuable than starting pitchers as they play every day as opposed to once a week. Catchers NEVER play 162 games so taking one early is a waste, sure everyone wants I-Rod but he's not worth passing up a regular position player because outside of injury he's playing probably 70-75% as many games. Players that are listed at multiple positions are awesomely valuable because on bye-weeks or in the event of
an injury it's nice to have several options. Another important thing is there are always a few stats that get overlooked, in our league it is stolen bases for position players and holds for pitchers. Get a soild guy here and you can steal more than a few games.

Most importantly though, you have to be prepared. Everyone wants the same 15 players. Everyone wants Vlad, Pujols, Teajada, and Beltran most people want Bonds and A-Rod (I personally REFUSE to put them on my team). You need to know the best options behind the superstars. For example I will not draft anyone not on the list below (except a few late round pitchers and OF). Every position is ordered by who I want down to who I will settle for, this minimizes the chances that the drinking and shit talking will cause me to make bad picks:

Johan Santana
Jason Schmidt
Ben Sheets
Carlos Zambrano
Tim Hudson
Mark Prior
Kerry Wood
Roger Clemens
Curt Schilling
Randy Johnson
Roy Oswalt
Pedro Martinez
Oliver Perez - Pit
AJ Burnett
Josh Beckett
John Smoltz
Brad Radke
Livan Hernandez
CC Sabathia
Jake Peavy

Eric Gagne
Mariano Rivera
Brad Lidge
Keith Foulke
Billy Wagner
Armando Benitez
Francisco Rodriguez
Jason Isringhausen
Joe Nathan
Trevor Hoffman

Victor Martinez
Ivan Rodriguez
Javy Lopez
Joe Mauer
Jason Kendall
Jason Varitek
Mike Piazza
Johnny Estrada
Michael Barrett
Paul Lo Duca

Albert Pujols
Todd Helton
Jim Thome
Derrek Lee
David Ortiz
Aubrey Huff
Mark Teixeira
Carlos Delgado
Richie Sexson
Sean Casey

Alfonso Soriano
Mark Loretta
Marcus Giles
Jeff Kent
Bret Boone
Todd Walker
Jose Vidro
Chone Figgins
Mark Bellhorn
Tony Womack

Aramis Ramirez
Scott Rolen
Eric Chavez
Adrian Beltre
Melvin Mora
Aubrey Huff
Hank Blalock
Mike Lowell
Chipper Jones
Troy Glaus

Miguel Tejada
Nomar Garciaparra
Edgar Renteria
Michael Young
Carlos Guillen
Jimmy Rollins
Rafael Furcal
Orlando Cabrera
Jack Wilson
Khalil Greene

Vladimir Guerrero
Bobby Abreu
Manny Ramirez
Ichiro Suzuki
Carl Crawford
Miguel Cabrera
Jim Edmonds
JD Drew
Adam Dunn
Juan Pierre
Carlos Lee
Johnny Damon
Steve Finley
Magglio Ordonez
Vernon Wells
Brian Giles
Jason Bay
Jose Guillen
Garrett Anderson
Milton Bradley

Yes, I made an excel file and printed it out and will bring it with me. I also have three different lists of the top 100 projected players in every position for next year, just incase. And of course my notebook to record the draft. I don't necessarily need all of this but it couldn't hurt and it's another subtle mind game.

Originally I planned to keep a running journal of the draft but, unfortunately, as Co-Commissioner, I had certain responsibilities like crossing names of the master list as well as my wish list, drinking about a dozen beers, drafting for Joe who was unable to attend at the last minute, eating a burger, and making condescending comments about other peoples picks.

The draft was set to begin at 6:00 PM, we decided the over/under for actual start time at 7:30. Amazingly, we were under way at 6:03. Once everyone was assembled we annexed the back room and began.

Everyone's name was put in a hat and the draft order was set. Sean, much to his chagrin got the first pick, he announced that he would trade with either Kenny or Kevin but they got picks 2 and 3 respectively and he saw no advantage to that. I ended up 4th which isn't terrible and the rest of the group fell as Joe, Dan, Cappy, Bucces, Chad and Victoria.

In the first round, Pujols went first to Sean. Kenny, predictably drafted A-Rod and Kevin, not surprisingly, took Manny. I got Vlad and was happy to do so since he was my second choice over all and this way I didn't have to actually root for a Cardinal. I gave Joe Bonds because I am somewhat altruistic and no one really wanted that scumbag on their team anyway. Dan chose Carlos Beltran because he, like the Mets, believes that Beltran is the juggernaut everyone saw in the post-season, not the .284/27/104 guy his career numbers dictate. Cappy, in a surprise move, picked up Johan Santana I openly mock him for taking a pitcher, but secretly commend his choice as Santana is arguably one of the best in the game in one of the worst divisions in baseball. Bucces went with Bobby Abreu, a solid, albeit strange, 1st pick. Chad took Alfonso Soriano which was the best possible choice at that point and Vic grabbed Tejada and Gagne on the comeback both good picks.

Rather than bore the last two people still reading this with 22 more paragraphs of round by round coverage I'll just hit a few highlights and provide you with the like to the site if you want to check it out.

As the draft went on I realized that Cappy and I had similar game plans and in consecutive rounds he stole two of my sleeper picks (Aubrey Huff and Carl Crawford) then started drafting middle relievers to lock up the hold category. That evil bastard. Luckily his first two picks were pitchers and that is more than likely going to fuck him in the end. Plus I got a few of the picks he wanted, too. This should be interesting.

Kenny, either because he was shit-faced or because he wanted to surprise us not only drafted as many Cubs as Yankees but he also took Tim Wakefield from the Red Sox. (Also I was wrong about the drunken heart pick with Kenny it turned out to be Giambi not Martinez)

Kevin was so hammered by the 5th round that it took him roughly 4 years to make every pick. Someone would nudge him or offer advice and he would drift into a 5 minute diatribe about how everyone need to stop trying to fuck with him. So that was fun. Then every time someone else drafted a player from the Red Sox, he would yell at them despite the fact that he drafted someone else instead mere moments ago.

Chad was not drinking because he had a mid-term on Thursday and with each passing round of picks and beers he was becoming increasingly more furious with the drunken monkeys by whom he was surrounded. Luckily, since EVERYONE is afraid of Chad one loud profanity from him and the draft would move smoothly for at least 2 rounds.

Dan took Vinny Castilla. Granted it was in the 22nd round but he still looked at the 500 or so remaining players and said to himself "You know what? Vinny's gonna be my guy." That was my favorite moment of the draft.

3 hours and 23 rounds and a $300 bar tab later we were finally finished. All in all I like my team especially since I was able to stuff it with trade bait to bolster the pitcher/outfield positions which as of right now are sorely lacking.

Anyway here's the link to the league if by some chance anyone is still reading this and at all interested.