Ok, since you guys in the lifestyle forum have a wide range of experience and are more than happy to help out people in need, I thought that I’d get your advice on something. Surely there must be someone out there with similar experiences with some helpful tips to impart. Sorry if there already is a thread dealing with my particular problem. Bear with me, it is all a little complicated.
Ok, so yesterday I decided that the day was going a little slowly so I called my friend Dimi to organise 2 hookers and a dwarf for me, ready to be picked up at 7.00pm in the limo that I had booked for the night. While waiting for the limo to arrive I checked that I hadn’t misplaced my 4 tickets for the highly illegal cockfight/fondue party that we were to attend. I drank a litre of Polish vodka, sucked down 4 cigars, and coughed up a lung by the time the hookers, dwarf and limo arrived.
The two hookers (“Candy” and “Star”) were fairly rank, but the grinning dwarf (“Serge”) more than made up for it. I told them to help themselves to the booze and each other on our way to the highly illegal, secret, illegal, not-legal cock fight. While the sight of 2 hookers and a rent-dwarf groping each other on the seat of a limo had never bothered me before, there was something about the way Serge was staring at me that made me uncomfortable. At the time I brushed it off, because I was so drunk that drinking varnish from an old boot seemed like a potential refreshing beverage to me.
2 hours later, I had seen a good bunch of cock fights and ate some fairly pedestrian fondue. Gregory Peck had destroyed Professor Cluck Cluck in the fourth round, which paying 7 to 1 odds yielded me about $8000 in winnings. The thrill of my win was only dampened by Candy spewing melted cheese and bright red Bacardi Breezer on my white cotton shirt. Mysteriously, my dinner jacket did not have a drop on it. Her projectile vomit landed with pin-point accuracy on the middle strip of my chest, avoiding the jacket completely and an expensive dry cleaning bill. Who says you can’t get lucky at an illegal cock fight?
We decided to blow the $8000 dollars. Much to my disgust the next day when I was sober, at some point in the night we purchased a fur coat for Candy and a pair of rollerskates for Serge. The last I remembered was that Serge was rollerskating on my tiled kitchen floor, while the hookers were snuggling together asleep on the couch.
Ok, this morning my mother decided to drop in for brunch. The problem is she found two hookers sleeping restfully on the couch, and a Russian dwarf, dead on my kitchen floor. I knew I shouldn’t have given her a key. You see what had happened was Serge, while skating, fell and cracked his head on the tiles, and subsequently died of a brain haemorrhage.
So you could imagine the uncomfortable situation I was in.
Now, what I need to know is, and any advice from you people would be greatly appreciated…how the hell do you get Red Breezer and melted cheese out of a white cotton shirt? Napisan? Bleach? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
the above pimped from here
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