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Wicked's points total is 16097.
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What happened to all your points and your TOP USER pic?
You deserve everything you have accumulated. The same
thing happened to DaStiffy a while back......?
LOOKING FOR LOVE IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES
I started my internship as an embalmer at a Mortuary near the L.A. Airport. I had been working for this firm for about 4 months. It was a quiet Saturday late afternoon, we had no business, so I was relaxing, reading the paper. The front door bell rang and I walked into the lobby. There before me was a rather attractive (I was 19 at the time) young woman standing there. She explained that she was interested in becoming a Mortician and asked if I could give her a tour of the Funeral Home. SURE!
I began the grand tour, dragging it out with this hottie as long as possible. We went through the Chapel, viewing rooms, the arrangement office and viewing rooms. I took her into the preparation room and her demeanor changed. She started breathing heavily, her eyes dilated and she started squirming. I asked her if she was ok or wanted to get out of the embalming room. She half whispered......no. After a few questions, we headed for the casket display showroom.
I told her about the different types of caskets, what they were made of and showed her the locking mechanism on the high end metal caskets. In the center of the room was a solid bronze casket with a tufted velvet interior. Way back then, the casket retailed for over $5000. Now it would be well over $35,000. My guest nearly ran over to the massive casket. She started rubbing the velvet interior. Her breathing was short and jerky. Finally she asked: "You ever want to DO IT in a casket?" "Uh, do what?" "You know, DO IT....." She continued to brush the velvet with her hands.
I figured it out! "I've "done it" in lots of places, but not a casket." "She looked disappointed as I ushered her over to a display of miniature burial vaults. She walked back over to the bronze casket. She put a finger on my chest. "I want to do it now in this casket....." The sad thing was that that expensive casket would tip over with two people just trying to get into it, let alone screw in it. She didn't want to hear any excuses........
"I've got a nice apartment across the parking lot from here, we could go over there....." "No, I want to do it here in this casket...." She unbuttoned the top three buttons on her blouse. "Come on, lets do it..." I was almost in tears. She was very hot, but sex in a casket would get both of us injured and me black balled from the industry. It was casket sex or no sex. I was grief stricken as she re-buttoned her blouse and walked towards the front door.
She was the first of several "mortuary groupies" I encountered over the next 22 years.
I was working a 3 month stint on day shift, as a Lincoln Unit (1 officer car) Day shift in the middle of the week is often uneventful. You drive around, write a few tickets, take a few reports and maybe catch a radio call or two. My day was about to change in a dramatic manor.
Dispatch advised me of a domestic dispute between two women, it was becoming heated. In the ghetto, that type of call should have a minimum of two officers handling it. For reasons never made clear to me, no one was sent to back me up. I walked in to the apartment that the call originated from. One of the "women" was well over 6 feet tall and weighed over 300 pounds. She looked like a black refrigerator with a water buffalo's head on top of it. The other combatant looked like a WNBA star. She was well over 6'5" and athletically built, hard as a rock. To top the scene off, there were 3 women sitting on a massive couch. Each of them weighed at least 250 and were wedged into the fake leather.
The argument between the two women had moved into the hallway. It was verbal only, at this point, so I stepped between them. The young ladies were discussing each other's faults, including romantic shortfalls and concerns about each other's family members. Suddenly, the WNBA star called the Buffalo Head a "Bitch." It was as though she had never in her life been called a bitch and took the insult to heart. Buffalo head shoved WNBA and WNBA shoved back.
Before I could step out of the middle of the impending SMACKDOWN, Buffalo head balled up a massive fist and put her full weight into an overhand right punch, that would have made Mike Tyson cry. She caught ME on the right side of my face, covering from my cheek to my jaw! Little black dots started to form in front of my eyes and they got bigger and bigger by the instant. I was being knocked out for the first time in my life!
A week or so before, we had been issued new Motorola Radios with an added red emergency button. the button was linked to our on board computers and sent an emergency call out on every radio on the whole Police Department. "L-4, you have activated your emergency device, do you need assistance?" By this time, I was in the middle of a full on fight. Buffalo Head was trying to get at WNBA and choke me at the same time. I was hammering on Buffalo's skull with my radio and yelling.
"YES, I need assistance, I am fighting....."
It got even better. WNBA saw me konking Buffalo Girl on the melon, to defend myself. She started punching me too, to defend her girlfriend from da po-lice. The three women on the couch all jumped up, I had no idea what there intentions were. Just as I started to think about drawing my weapon, the front door burst open and almost every cop working that day poured in to the apartment.
There was a lot of shouting and shoving. The two combatants were hooked up and were now playing the offended victims. The field Sargent grabbed me. "Are you alright?" I looked down at the front of my uniform. I was covered with stripper glitter(?) and hunks of weave. It felt like the whole side of my face was broken. A quick trip into the bathroom and a squint into the mirror showed minimal damage. Both of the combatants were in better shape than me. It would have taken a wack from a fire ax to penetrate Buffalo's scalp. Since no one got injured, no one got arrested. We split the girls up and I moved on to the next call.
DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM TELLING YOU?
After my police career was shortened by a stab wound to my knee. I went from part-time to full time Executive Protection. (A fancy term for bodyguard.) If there is any interest, I will include these stories with the gore and violence we thrive on.
On one such night, I was working an event along with 5 other off duty or retired cops. The event was a celebrity book signing and reading by the author. At each and every one of these sort of events, there is a gay guy with a clipboard.....always. This night was no exception. The gay guy was in charge of most of the event and was already in a "full blown" tizzie when our crew arrived an hour before the event.
Myself and another retired cop were assigned to work the choke point front gate to the event. There were two young and attractive girls working the guest list. My partner and I were there to back them up when people tried to crash the event (and they always try to crash these things.) The gay guy grabbed my partner by the arm and told both of us: "DO NOT LET ANYONE INTO THE EVENT UNLESS THE GIRLS SAY THEY ARE ON THE LIST!" "Do you understand what I am telling you?" "I want both of you to repeat it to me." "NO ONE GETS IN UNLESS THE GIRLS CLEAR THEM AND THEY ARE ON THE LIST." "Good, that is simple enough even for you two....." At that point, we both wanted to grab "Poofie by the throat and choke the shit out of him, but the money was too good.
Things started off smoothly, people were polite and the line to get in moved quickly. Out of the blue, the two girls working the guest book, closed the book and they both walked off with it. "We'll be back." We spoke to the people trying to get in and told them it would be just a few minutes. Most were understanding, but the event was going to start in 15 minutes and still no girls or book.
With five minutes before the event, we had a line of 40-5- people and they were getting pissed. Poofie showed up and went into full-on gay Jerry Springer meltdown. "I GAVE YOU TWO JACKASSES SIMPLE INSTRUCTIONS AND YOU FUCKED IT UP." "Listen asshole, you said and we repeated,, no one gets in unless the girls say they are on the list." "The girls wandered off with YOUR FUCKING LIST about 15 minutes ago." Poofie lost his shit completely. He threw his clipboard down and started stomping his feet like a spoiled princess at a toy store. Guests started laughing at him and he went further apeshit. "YOU TWO BITCHES ARE FIRED......"
We kept our cool. There were too many witnesses to give Poofie a manners lesson. We found the guy running the security detail and told him what happened. "No problem, he already gave me the cash to pay you guys for the whole night." "Here's your cash and your parking validation, have a nice night...fuck him." Poofie went nuts a little later that evening and the remaining four team members left two hours early, cash in hand.
After we were all gone, there was a pretty good brawl in the bar at the event. The guy running the whole event was screaming for security. When he found out Poofie canned us all for no reason, Poofie
got fired and got black balled from working that sort of event. It worked out to about $200 an hour for the time my partner and I spent at the front gate. WE UNDERSTOOD WHAT HE WAS TELLING US.
I hope sending the last story private didn't screw things up..... my bad.
I am so pissed! I have to wade through page after page of ads and porn to get
to the cite after I log on. Then I have to log on again every time I try to comment.
Then, half of my comments don't post. What the hell happened?