This was written by a gent on Hardcore50 and it is great so I thought I would pass it on..
"sorry, this one is long, but i had to get it off my chest.
as some of you may already know, Hurricane Isabel came through and whipped our asses two weeks ago. my power has been off since then, with the only exception being three hours last monday. i went twelve days without power, and therefore without a hot shower. any of you familiar with cold showers already knows the routine here. jump in the water, jump back out. lather up with soap, get back in the water. then get the hell out.
well, i like to consider myself a proud example of American White Trash. i have long hair. i have a beard. i do things all day which make me sweaty. im a well proportioned slice of Americana. this means that a thorough shower is necessary, every day. failure to shower would be unacceptable. well, cold showers get old rather quickly. that left me with a bit of a dillema.
it just so happens that the Goat Humper's significant other is highly incensed, and has been, since prior to the hurricane. ill not go into it here, but it is safe to assume that Adam Culpepper is persona non grata at the home of this lady, who shall forthwith be known as The Enraged. lets just say the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
a few days ago, while returning from work, i had decided that i needed a break from the frigid bathing i had become acustomed to, and that less tepid waters should be in my very near future. oh yes. a warm shower is just what the doctor ordered, i thought. a call was made to The Enraged, who i knew for a fact had a water heater powered by gas. time to turn on the ol' Goat Humper Charm. after what seemed like hours of begging and pleading, she finally relented, and Mr. Culpepper was on his way to get him some hot, wet..... water. oh yeah.
arrival was less of an event than i expected. i saw no red carpet. i heard no trumpets. how strange. in the door i walked, and hollered at the top of my lungs, "Woman, where you at!?" imagine my suprise when around the corner came running the mangy mutt i purchased for Miss Enraged not so very long ago, growling and snarling. that ungrateful bastard. i payed the exhorbitant price he had affixed to his cage -- i saved him from a life in a shopping mall pet store, fed him twinkies until his crap was yellow -- and this is how he repays me? three weeks away from that wretched woman not only nets me evil looks and smacked lips, but also a growling, four legged fece factory. thats ok, mutt. ill remember that.
following the cut-throat canine was none other than Miss Enraged, with a glare in her eye that made her look curiously similar to Heinrich Himmler.
"The shower is broken, youll have to take a bath," she said.
"Whats a bath?" i responded. she rolled her eyes. i soon found out. it seems that women have things called "bath tubs." instead of standing up and letting the water come to you, you have to actually sit down in the water. very strange contraption. however, this particular "tub" must have been made strictly for women, because it had funny feet on it and seemed to only hold enough water for a midget to bathe in. oh well. ill try anything once. into the water i went, and out went the water onto the floor. this was clearly counter-productive. i looked around the bathroom and i didnt see my soap, shampoo, or shaving equipment anywhere.
"Threw it away," was the answer to my question. i think i detected a slight smile on her face as she said it. something told me the situation was deteriorating.
i found a bottle of shampoo. it was pink, and it smelled like berries, or fruit, or something. the name of it was Herbal Essences. i recalled seeing the television commercials for this stuff. supposedly, it makes women behave as if they are fornicating. next up came the soap. it too was pink. i dont exactly know what it smelled like. maybe unicorns. beats me. it was clearly aimed at the feminine market.
as i went through the rub-a-dub-dub routine, that ungrateful hound strolled in, as if he owned the place. he sat down, and looked directly at me. i would go so far as to say that this animal was struggling to form a grimmace. that was too much. just too god damn much. you might not know this, but rednecks are fast. lightning fast. like ninjas. i grabbed that elongated rodent by his collar and dragged him over to me until we were nose to nose.
"Look here, you filthy, ass-licking turd machine," i said, "if you so much as look at me wrong, ill beat the breaks off your scrawny ass. Oh, you might think its Kibbles and Bits from the smile on my face, but its really gonna be my foot up your ass." the dog ran.
back to my bath i went. i was not pleased with the soap selection, and i said as much to Miss Enraged. imagine my suprise when she arrived with a ice cube tray in her hands. this was not going to be a good thing, i could tell.
"You wont," i said.
"I will," she replied.
i lept to my feet. i pointed my finger at her and bellowed, "STAND DOWN, you posturing shrew!"
then it happened. those twiggy, feminine arms, the very arms i always imagined to be so weak and harmless, twisted on that tray of cubes. i could see the effort in her face. each dangerous peice of ice erupted from its home and leapt into the air. those which did not leave their tray were picked cleanly from it with the deft and agile use of fingernails too long to be of any good for true manual labor. i suddenly understood the folly of my thinking. long nails not only leave deep scratches, they also peel ice cubes from ice trays like project people peel dignity from a Be-Lo. those cubes hit the water like depth charges. i could see the water splash, and i could feel the immediate drop in temperature. really. i could.
with a look of triumph on her face, she hollered "I hope your <CENSORED> freezes off!"
well, my bath was over. time to shave. i had no trusty Colgate Shaving Cream though. i had no Bic Disposable Razor either. this did not bode well. what i DID have, was a pink bottle of shaving cream and a (you guessed it) pink contraption that was supposed to be a razor. six blades on this thing, at least. a quick look at her legs told me this thing must still be operable, but ill be damned if i want to put it against my face. unfortunately, i had no choice. it was an ordeal.
to add insult to injury, i was also in search of deodorant. what do you suppose was the color of the stick of "PH balanced" anti-persperant i found while searching through her medicine cabinet? this was just god damn ridiculous. its bad enough that i came face to face with things that no man is supposed to see. various feminine hygeine products that came in such frightening shapes and sizes. i still have nightmares about that stuff. yikes.
out the door i walked, smelling like a french whore. behind me i heard the curses of a woman who had just realized that she had water on her bathroom floor, hair in her razor, and Gods Gift To Women walking out her front door. oh well. sucker. at least shes got a dog, right?
i think i just earned three more weeks on Miss Enraged's **** list."
ks
"sorry, this one is long, but i had to get it off my chest.
as some of you may already know, Hurricane Isabel came through and whipped our asses two weeks ago. my power has been off since then, with the only exception being three hours last monday. i went twelve days without power, and therefore without a hot shower. any of you familiar with cold showers already knows the routine here. jump in the water, jump back out. lather up with soap, get back in the water. then get the hell out.
well, i like to consider myself a proud example of American White Trash. i have long hair. i have a beard. i do things all day which make me sweaty. im a well proportioned slice of Americana. this means that a thorough shower is necessary, every day. failure to shower would be unacceptable. well, cold showers get old rather quickly. that left me with a bit of a dillema.
it just so happens that the Goat Humper's significant other is highly incensed, and has been, since prior to the hurricane. ill not go into it here, but it is safe to assume that Adam Culpepper is persona non grata at the home of this lady, who shall forthwith be known as The Enraged. lets just say the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
a few days ago, while returning from work, i had decided that i needed a break from the frigid bathing i had become acustomed to, and that less tepid waters should be in my very near future. oh yes. a warm shower is just what the doctor ordered, i thought. a call was made to The Enraged, who i knew for a fact had a water heater powered by gas. time to turn on the ol' Goat Humper Charm. after what seemed like hours of begging and pleading, she finally relented, and Mr. Culpepper was on his way to get him some hot, wet..... water. oh yeah.
arrival was less of an event than i expected. i saw no red carpet. i heard no trumpets. how strange. in the door i walked, and hollered at the top of my lungs, "Woman, where you at!?" imagine my suprise when around the corner came running the mangy mutt i purchased for Miss Enraged not so very long ago, growling and snarling. that ungrateful bastard. i payed the exhorbitant price he had affixed to his cage -- i saved him from a life in a shopping mall pet store, fed him twinkies until his crap was yellow -- and this is how he repays me? three weeks away from that wretched woman not only nets me evil looks and smacked lips, but also a growling, four legged fece factory. thats ok, mutt. ill remember that.
following the cut-throat canine was none other than Miss Enraged, with a glare in her eye that made her look curiously similar to Heinrich Himmler.
"The shower is broken, youll have to take a bath," she said.
"Whats a bath?" i responded. she rolled her eyes. i soon found out. it seems that women have things called "bath tubs." instead of standing up and letting the water come to you, you have to actually sit down in the water. very strange contraption. however, this particular "tub" must have been made strictly for women, because it had funny feet on it and seemed to only hold enough water for a midget to bathe in. oh well. ill try anything once. into the water i went, and out went the water onto the floor. this was clearly counter-productive. i looked around the bathroom and i didnt see my soap, shampoo, or shaving equipment anywhere.
"Threw it away," was the answer to my question. i think i detected a slight smile on her face as she said it. something told me the situation was deteriorating.
i found a bottle of shampoo. it was pink, and it smelled like berries, or fruit, or something. the name of it was Herbal Essences. i recalled seeing the television commercials for this stuff. supposedly, it makes women behave as if they are fornicating. next up came the soap. it too was pink. i dont exactly know what it smelled like. maybe unicorns. beats me. it was clearly aimed at the feminine market.
as i went through the rub-a-dub-dub routine, that ungrateful hound strolled in, as if he owned the place. he sat down, and looked directly at me. i would go so far as to say that this animal was struggling to form a grimmace. that was too much. just too god damn much. you might not know this, but rednecks are fast. lightning fast. like ninjas. i grabbed that elongated rodent by his collar and dragged him over to me until we were nose to nose.
"Look here, you filthy, ass-licking turd machine," i said, "if you so much as look at me wrong, ill beat the breaks off your scrawny ass. Oh, you might think its Kibbles and Bits from the smile on my face, but its really gonna be my foot up your ass." the dog ran.
back to my bath i went. i was not pleased with the soap selection, and i said as much to Miss Enraged. imagine my suprise when she arrived with a ice cube tray in her hands. this was not going to be a good thing, i could tell.
"You wont," i said.
"I will," she replied.
i lept to my feet. i pointed my finger at her and bellowed, "STAND DOWN, you posturing shrew!"
then it happened. those twiggy, feminine arms, the very arms i always imagined to be so weak and harmless, twisted on that tray of cubes. i could see the effort in her face. each dangerous peice of ice erupted from its home and leapt into the air. those which did not leave their tray were picked cleanly from it with the deft and agile use of fingernails too long to be of any good for true manual labor. i suddenly understood the folly of my thinking. long nails not only leave deep scratches, they also peel ice cubes from ice trays like project people peel dignity from a Be-Lo. those cubes hit the water like depth charges. i could see the water splash, and i could feel the immediate drop in temperature. really. i could.
with a look of triumph on her face, she hollered "I hope your <CENSORED> freezes off!"
well, my bath was over. time to shave. i had no trusty Colgate Shaving Cream though. i had no Bic Disposable Razor either. this did not bode well. what i DID have, was a pink bottle of shaving cream and a (you guessed it) pink contraption that was supposed to be a razor. six blades on this thing, at least. a quick look at her legs told me this thing must still be operable, but ill be damned if i want to put it against my face. unfortunately, i had no choice. it was an ordeal.
to add insult to injury, i was also in search of deodorant. what do you suppose was the color of the stick of "PH balanced" anti-persperant i found while searching through her medicine cabinet? this was just god damn ridiculous. its bad enough that i came face to face with things that no man is supposed to see. various feminine hygeine products that came in such frightening shapes and sizes. i still have nightmares about that stuff. yikes.
out the door i walked, smelling like a french whore. behind me i heard the curses of a woman who had just realized that she had water on her bathroom floor, hair in her razor, and Gods Gift To Women walking out her front door. oh well. sucker. at least shes got a dog, right?
i think i just earned three more weeks on Miss Enraged's **** list."
ks
