TK here, with another story that’s relevant to our recent theme of peoples misfortune.  You know that affect that alcohol has on people where you’ll start doing something that normally under any other circumstance would be a terrible idea, but for just one night you have to let it slide?  You know, when you think it’s a good idea to try ice-skating in your shoes on a 45 degree slope driveway!

A quick note for those of you that don’t live in the northeast, but as of the past few months it has been really difficult for us to go a week without getting an absolute shit ton of snow.  I’m pretty sure some records will be shattered if they haven’t already.  Regardless, there’s week’s worth of snow and ice everywhere making the northeast look a lot like South Park… or planet Hoth depending on what galaxy you’re in.  It really sucks.

               

Anyway, a little after New Year’s we got SURPRISE more snow!  We didn’t let it get in the way of the fact that this was the last week we could all hang out before everyone would have to go back to school, and so we gathered at D’s for a few games of beer pong and Rock Band.  Now, I’d already played five games of pong, two of which I drank for myself and my partner, in my vein efforts to overthrow the reigning champs C and D. So I was feeling pretty damn good despite taking five losses in a row.  At one point B, C, T, and I went outside only to find that it was indeed still snowing… awesome.  As T and C teased B about slipping on the ice, and being the only person capable of burning down a house during a snowstorm, (see B’s Misfortune for more on that) I found myself sliding back and forth on the icy surface of D’s driveway and thus, an idea was born!

                

I went back and forth at short distances, but it wasn’t long before I had built up the courage to go into a slide from a running start. Pretty soon I noticed everyone was trying it out.  “Having fun over there,” asked B as she tried to avoid T from crashing into her.  I grinned drunkenly and replied with a simple, “Yup!”  When I get bored I make my own fun.  I upped the ante by lighting a cigarette and continued on, every so often having to avoid a few close calls with T.  As I write, I can only ask myself how I found this so amusing.  I mean, people usually slip and injure themselves on black ice, and I had turned it into a game!  It would only make sense that this “great” idea would somehow try to destroy me.

             

I went into one more running start, putting my right foot forward as I slid across the driveway once again.  Only this time, I had taken a few too many steps and found myself flying downhill with basically no means of stopping.  I held my balance for a few feet before my right foot got caught on a rough patch of ice.  Momentum took my head forward, while my left leg flew up behind me, causing me to spiral into a death roll of epic proportions.  I reached the halfway point on D’s icy death trap of a driveway, but what happened next was a pure miracle of drunken coordination that’ll probably never be repeated.  I rolled off my back and shoulders, flipping upright again as I planted both my feet on the treacherous surface of the steeply-angled driveway.  Bending my knees, I slid about another foot before stopping, my cigarette unscathed.   A chorus of laughter erupted behind me as I turned and faced the three less than concerned faces behind me.  “Ok, I guess I deserved that,” I said as I slowly made my way back up the driveway.

                

Later that night C, B, and myself all found ourselves back on the driveway, where C made a comment about losing his buzz.  B laughed and said, “Well I know TK sobered up because he’s not trying to ice-skate on D’s driveway anymore!”  Yeah, not trying that again anytime soon!

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It's so disturbing, yet so entertaining...

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Hey, TK here with a story that took place on my street involving our friend P's moped just a little before we all graduated high school.  It was a warm Spring day that started off like any other with everyone going to school... well, almost everyone.  We noticed that D was nowhere to be found but word spread quickly at our usual morning gathering point in the library.  According to C and J, D was getting his wisdom teeth taken out and apparently had no means of getting home after.  So C, J, R, T, and myself all skipped out on the last few classes of the day and went on a mission to pick up D.

We went to D's house, D having given us the code, so that we could get his van allowing us to take one car.  With C at the wheel we drove to a nearby dentist and waited for D to be done.  Finally, the door opens and D slowly walks out into the room with a big grin coming across his face as he sees all of us staring back at him.  "You look like you're doing pretty well man," I said to D as he held up a small orange bottle of Vicodin.  "You have no idea," he said though it didn't come out quite that clearly.  We headed back to D's but on the way stopped and got ice cream because when the hell is that ever a bad idea?  Eventually, we got back to D's and picked up our cars, briefly parting ways.

I get home and I'm not home for more than twenty minutes before I get a call from T.  He tells me that he's hanging out with P and that they're on their way over because they have something awesome to show me.  Now when it comes to T, that could mean anything so I was already bracing myself as I stood outside waiting for them to arrive.  Expecting to see a car pull up I instead see P riding up my street on a grey moped with T running alongside of him.  Turns out P had that moped for a while and had recently had it fixed up.  T jumps on his phone and starts calling CD and several other people.  It isn't long before CD, J, R, and D all pull up outside my house laughing hysterically.  Apparently they'd seen this kid riding his bike through my neighborhood and screamed "nice bike, kid!"  At first, P rode around in circles as the rest of us just watched.

Finally, P asked anyone if they'd like to give it a shot.  Jokingly, we all suggested that D try it out.  However, D really wanted to ride the moped and being the responsible friends don't let other friends do stupid things... we let him go for a spin.  D rode off down the street reaching the bottom of the hill.  Expecting him to make a loop and come back up we watched as D made a hard right and disappeared down the next street leaving the rest of us in a somewhat concerned state of silence.  Finally, J turned to me and said "Damn, he's been gone for a while!"  It was around this time when we were joined outside by my neighbor and friend from school KM.  He asked what we were up to and we explained that D had ridden off on P's moped.  Upon hearing D's name KM rushed into his garage and came out with a pair of water guns, the other was claimed by J.  P tried to explain how shooting someone with water guns while they were on a moped WHILE they were blasted on vicodin was probably a bad idea but it was too late.

D appeared at the bottom of the hill, making his way back to the top as J and KM got into position.  He rolls down the street towards the rest of us when he is suddenly hit from both sides by water!  With the excpetion of a slight wobble, D held his balance and rolled safely to a stop.  We laughed as D stepped off the bike wiping water from his face.  "Hey guys, I saw that kid again and told him he had a nice bike," he said trying to fight back the hysterics.  "Well, technically you had a nicer bike this time," I added.  Regardless, we had found something to do as KM went to refill the water guns and the next contestant stepped up.  CD jumped at the opportunity and all of our fears subsided as he got on the bike and rode off down the hill, this time making a left at the end of the street.  Once again we waited and watched as KM blasted T with the water gun.  Suddenly, there was a low hum coming up the street as CD appeared in the distance.

Positions were taken as CD flew past us, avoiding the water gun firing squad, and heading fast towards the end of the street.  Now, I live on a cul-de-sac... a dead end in other words!  "He's coming in too hot," I yelled as we all started sprinting after him from a few houses down.  CD, realizing that he couldn't stop, threw his arms in front of his face as he went tire-first into the curb.  The bike flipped forward and tossed CD into a tangled web of pine trees that lined the end of the street.  We all ran down to the end of the street and started fighting our way through branches eventually locating CD and the moped.  We pulled the moped off of him and dragged him out from the trees.  It was around here that T started getting this worried look on his face.  "Do I smell smoke," he asked?  "It's ok, I have a water gun," said J.  At this point, CD was walking around the cul-de-sac in a daze.  "Those things aren't meant to stop short like that," I said.  "I know that now," he mumbled.  Just making sure man.

Meanwhile, a concerned P looked on at his moped which only a few moments ago looked brand new.  We helped him drag it out of the trees before helping him walk it to his house.  Needless to say, CD felt horrible and wanted to help pay for the damages.  With no real harm done and no one seriously injured, we called it a day and went our sepearte ways once more.

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This video is really, really weird. I think the person who filmed this might be a stalker... I'm just saying.

Enjoy Scud's Ass,
B

(P.S. C is that your voice in the background??? And who is this kid from Lacey that you're stalking? We didn't even go to that school.)

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Hello all!

B here… In case you don’t watch the weather channel or you’re living in jersey and just haven’t made the effort to look out the window yet, let me be the first to inform you of our misfortune. Congratulations! We are graced by the presence of yet another snowstorm…. Super… While some people might be rejoicing in the current snowstorm, I’ll be hiding in my house, drinking my tea in abnormal amounts, and pretending that I actually like hanging out indoors for long periods of time. The only good thing about snow is sledding. Other than that, the snow can go to hell and melt now. Seriously, if it could melt now, that would be great. In my humble opinion, this isn’t a winter wonderland. This is a giant freaking death trap. If you have to ask why, then you are clearly not uncoordinated like I am.

When it comes to being a full on walking disaster, nobody knows how to do it better than me. The whole reason C owed me a blog was because he stole a notebook from me which had… some sensitive material in it… So, of course I had to chase him. Which meant my getting hurt was pretty much inevitable. The details of this particular incident have been debated by me and C, because while I was trying to get the notebook from him, he was blocking me and holding it out of my reach. Apparently we never actually graduated from grade school. In my account, I remembered getting a “slight nudge” from C before losing my balance, having my legs fly out from under me, and slamming back first on the cement of the garage floor. According to C, I just randomly fell… In C’s defense, the possibility of me randomly falling really isn’t a stretch.

Either way, it hurt, but it also jogged my memory of stupid klutzy things I have done in the presence of the boys. A few of them result in injuries, and the ones where I’ve been injured usually involve C… Wait a minute, do I sense a pattern? A series of unfortunate events all involving a usual suspect? Maybe that “slight nudge” wasn’t my imagination after all…

When the boys first met me, I didn’t exactly warn them that I was kind of uncoordinated. They had to learn the hard way. Eventually they caught on; they began to notice that bad things seem to happen to me. It's never something small, either. I can't even defend myself without getting hurt. Trust me, C and A always walk away laughing, and I ended up with bruises, or a broken toe… More on that later.

I believe the history of my misfortune all began the day I accidentally checked some kid at Six Flags. I still stand by my defense that it wasn’t my fault! I was being led in the path of the small child. When you are being led, you have no control damn it! For some reason, we had made a chain line with all of our arms linked together. At the time, I had been a bit distraught because of a poor, helpless goose with a broken arm. I had been trying to convince the others that we should jump over the fence, grab the goose, and take it to a vet. Everyone just kind of laughed at me. During all this, E (We’ve mentioned her in previous blogs, she is CD’s girlfriend) had been leading me away from the goose; trying to placate me by saying the goose would be fine. That was when I felt something hit my leg. At first I was slightly confused, and said something along the lines of, "What the hell was that?" I was pretty eloquent in those days. E and I both stopped and turned to see a small child, probably around the age of two or three, crying hysterically. Maybe if I wasn’t 5’9” and still growing at the time, I would have noticed him. Unfortunately, small people aren’t exactly in my line of vision, so apparently I just walked right into him. Hey! Don’t start thinking of me as a horrible person! I ran back to make sure he was okay. I felt awful and apologized, repeatedly. His mom said it was fine, and that she hadn’t been paying close enough attention to him. See, not entirely my fault. Unfortunately for me, the boys have made it their duty to make fun of me for it.

A couple weeks later, we were once again at Six Flags Great Adventure. To be honest, it’s one of my favorite places on earth. We had been at the cheese steak restaurant, where the “Boardwalk” part of the park is. All I had wanted was a simple, quiet meal. Let’s be real though, that rarely ever happens. I had been sitting in a booth next to DM and across from CD, and for some reason DM was making fun of me. I don’t remember the exact circumstances for why he was making fun of me, but he does it all the time. DM is kind of like my surrogate big brother, and he enjoys tormenting me. This whole story would not have been possible had it not been for DM’s constant teasing, and my strange obsession with always having mayo on my sandwiches. Seriously, I eat meatball subs with mayo on them, so having mayo on my cheese steak, not that unusual for me. Somehow, when I had been putting my tray of food on the table, one lone packet of mayo ended up underneath my tray. While DM was making fun of me, I made the mistake of slamming my elbow on my tray, in an attempt to hide my face in my hands. That was when the mayo pack exploded. I‘m not exaggerating either when I say exploded. I mean, mayo shot out from under my tray, and across the restaurant maybe 6 to 8 feet. Right onto some girl’s hoodie. When it first happened, the girl and I just kind of stared at each other for a minute, up until the point where she started freaking out. We got napkins for her, and had to explain that it was JUST mayo… Yeah… That wasn’t uncomfortable.

Then there was the time at Six Flags… I’m starting to notice a trend here… C and DM were trying to convince me to sing on stage. I don’t like singing in public. If you wanted me to debate someone, on a stage, in front of a bunch of people, that was no problem. Singing? Yeah, I don’t think so. So C and DM thought it would be a good idea to use force to make me go on stage. By force I mean, DM grabbed my arms, C grabbed my legs, and they were carrying me towards the stage. My first reaction was to start kicking, but kicking doesn’t exactly help you when you’re wearing flip flops, and that’s how I broke my toe.

Moving away from our typical location of Six Flags, this story is a lot like Charlie Brown and Lucy with the football. In this story, I’ll be playing the role of Charlie Brown, C will be Lucy, and the football will be a tackling dummy… Yeah, you probably have an idea where this is going. The boys and I used to play Frisbee on a regular basis on our high school’s Astroturf covered football field. We had just finished the game, and were standing on the sidelines of the field, when C dared me to tackle the dummy as hard as I could. Thinking nothing of the challenge, I accepted. I took a running head start, and right before I reached the dummy, I lunged forward towards the center of the dummy. Only problem was, the dummy was no longer there. C had moved it out of the way at the last second, which meant I was flying through the air, and destined for a very rough, potentially astro-burned, landing.

There’s one story that happened quite recently, which just reminds me of the fact that, no matter how old I get, I still haven’t developed any sense of coordination. A few weeks ago, the boys and I played Frisbee on that same field. Which, honestly, wasn’t the best idea because the field was hidden under snow covered ice. I had been on the same team as C, CD, and CS. They had been trying to convince me to “accidentally” tackle somebody during the game. I had been matched up against Char (you know, it’s really hard to come up with abbreviations for everyone, when half of them have names that start with C), and I was joking with him that my team had given me permission to tackle him. This was in response to the fact that he was so insistent on running everywhere, and seeing as though I was matched up against him, this meant I had to chase after him. The awkward and uncoordinated don’t like running. Here’s why, I had no intentions of actually tackling anyone, but fate had other plans. Char had stopped short, at least I thought he did, and I slipped in the snow and knocked him down. Hard. I apologized, profusely might I add, while he was picking me up and body slamming me down to the ground in retaliation. Not too long after that, I was trying to avoid being guarded by R, when I accidentally tripped him up. His response was, “Damn it, B!”… I’ll take getting yelled at, over getting body slammed any day.

Alright, I’m almost done with this, I promise. I have one last story to share. It’s also one of the most epic of epic failure stories ever. This story takes place one day after frisbee, back during our senior year of high school. We were making our daily pilgrimage to 7-11 for slurpee's. I had been leaning up against one of the shelves, facing the bank of refrigerators storing all the drinks, trying to convince CS to get this energy drink. The energy drink was called Extreme Shock, eventually it was made illegal, we have some great stories about that, but I’ll save that for another snow day. I’m sure there will be more… Back to the story, what I hadn’t realized at the time was that I had gradually moved from leaning against the shelves, to leaning against the massive display of coca-cola products....Yeah.... CS and DM both said, "That's probably not a good idea," at the same time, right as the mountain of soda boxes came down. That warning would have been helpful, say, before the tower of soda came crashing down. The soda display was completely destroyed, two boxes of Diet Coke broke open, and several cans had come lose and were spraying soda everywhere. It was just....a disaster. We cleaned it up, and by we, I mean the boys and the two guys who worked there. I think I wandered off to find paper towels and tried to keep myself from crying. Again I found myself apologizing profusely. It always ends with me apologizing... At the time, I honestly didn't understand why the workers were laughing, or why they didn‘t make me pay for the damage... Actually, I still don’t understand why. I do remember the boys wanting to go to Michael's afterwards to buy bubble wrap. So they could put me in it. With my luck, it would have only made things worse...

The only comfort I found that day was back at CD’s house. We were watching a movie in his basement, and someone had yelled at me for putting my slurpee too close to CD’s Wii. That was a legit concern at this point. I had insisted on defending myself by pointing out the fact that CS had his slurpee next to the Wii as well. I don’t remember who exactly said this, but someone had yelled, “That’s because nothing bad ever happens to CS!” Proud of this exclamation, CS yelled out “YES!” and shoved his fist into the air… and right into the path of an unforgiving ceiling fan. Ha… He’ll never do that again.

Enjoy the winter death trap! I know I won’t….
B

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Hey all!

We have more stories heading your way. Until then, enjoy some... interesting... music videos.

xoxo
B

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(A note from B: When C wrote this, he was.... slightly inebriated. So I had to do some serious editing before I posted it. It was actually pretty entertaining, but if there is bad grammar or misspelled words... I did my best. There was a lot to fix. Plus I added in my own commentary here and there. I couldn't help myself. Enjoy! B)

OK, so after one of my nonsensical jokes left B in pain (by pain he means I ended up getting slammed down on my back on the garage floor), I must now write a post to make amends, so here it is... Char’s birthday.

It was early June when all the festivities started, and by all the festivities I'm including the twin’s birthday as well. The idea that they thought we'd go to their party over Char’s is nothing short of laughable. However, with char being the gracious host he was, he invited the twins and their "friends" over to his house and combined the parties. What was the spawn of this? Only one of the most memorable nights of my life, this is saying a lot considering how drunk I was.

T, J, and I all arrived together in our slightly late fashion (I think J would take offense to this. He is always on time. C is the one who’s always late). First thing T says as we walk in is "that one", pointing to one of the twin’s sexy Asian friends and took off. J and I, on the other hand, spent the first ten minutes marveling at Char’s recently refurbished backyard. Which included a fire pit, bar, grill, basketball court, and a fucking living room. We proceeded to grab a beer and meet some of the guests we didn’t know. First one up, Chad Pennington. No not THE Chad Pennington, but sharing his name definitely gave him props, being the die hard Jet fan I am. However, he lost those props in the next sentence when he told us he was the oldest person there by 4 years (Note: Chad Pennington was 23. I’m just saying!). J and I walked away and never said another word to him.
We went over to the basketball court when a couple of the twin’s friends challenged us to a game. Normally when I'm that drunk I won't play sports, but enough trash talking will get me to do anything. How'd it go you ask? J and I FUCKING WHOOPED EM! It was nothing short of an absolute slaughter.

After our victory we decided to grab another beer and mingle a little more. We found T who was working on his prediction, and well I might add, when we saw Char for the first time that night. Without even saying, “Hi”, he proclaimed "This is how we do it at holy cross!". He then grabbed the girl by the hip, dipped her, and proceeded to make out with her for a good 10 seconds, then picked her up and walked away. T, being the good sport that he was, calmed her down and continued on with his plan.
Soon after Char’s quick make out session ,TK showed up and we regaled to him the stories of the night. Unfortunately he forgot his "cigarettes" and had to race home to grab them. While TK was gone, one of the twin’s drunken friends began making advances towards me. And by advances, I mean burying her head in my crotch. I asked J if he'd take a drunken bullet for me, and luckily enough he was all about it. With the night finally climaxing, we decided it would be a great idea to light some fireworks. Now I don't know who brought the fireworks, or who lit them, but who ever it was completely shit the bed. A single firework shot out and hit one of guests square in the ass. J and I laughed uncontrollably until someone screamed hit the deck. Immediately I dropped to the ground and witnessed about 50 streams of fire fly through the air all around me. It was utter insanity for 5 minutes as I watched drunken teenagers diving behind walls and chairs avoiding mid air explosions left and right. Luckily, I was safely covered so I enjoyed the debacle. By the works of some alcoholic god no one was hit (excluding the first guest).
Almost immediately after the fireworks incident, TK returned with his "cigarettes". We told him what had happened and he took out his pack and calmed us all down. So we spent the rest of the night jumping into random peoples pictures and celebrating with Char.
Around two o'clock the party started to calm down. We all sat around the fire pit bringing up stories from college, smoking “cigarettes”, and trying to sober up. Then as I got up to leave, I stepped over J and the girl, hi-fived TK, and T came out looking for a condom. When he realized no one cared to help him with his problem, he continued to do his soon to be ex-girlfriend on Char’s leather couch.
Moral of the story: don't sit on char’s couch, and when T says he's going to do something he will, which scares me more than you can possibly comprehend.........
C

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According to Wikipedia: Twenty-three is the ninth prime number, the smallest odd prime that is not a twin prime. Twenty-three is also the fifth factorial prime, the third Woodall prime. It is an Eisenstein prime with no imaginary part and real part of the form 3n − 1... There's more, but that's not really important.

The boys and I are kind of, sort of, a little obsessed with the number 23.

It all started when the boys went over to C's house for a movie night, and they watched The Number 23 with  Jim Carey. Since then, we've all noticed the number popping up at random times. Sometimes it happens quite frequently. So it would seem appropriate that our twenty-third blog post would be dedicated to the number 23.

Times or Places when the number 23 has come up:

* I just looked at the time right now, and it's 5:23. That happens to Tk and I all the time.
* Jimmy Eat World has a song titled "23".
* C was born on March 23rd.
* J has a radio show, and one night he said he had 23 minutes left before the show was over. He didn't realize the 23 reference until after the show, when we mentioned it to him.
* Ever seen Halloween? Michael Myers was 23 when he went after Jaime Lee Curtis.
* Star Wars mentioned the number 23... I can't remember at what point, but it happened. It might have happened in Indiana Jones as well. Again, fuzzy on the details.
* In Machete, Jessica Alba's character says that it's her 23rd day watching the taco truck.
* Back during my freshman year of college, I picked up a temp job at the college book store. We were designated till's, mine was till #23.
* The boys can make any sequence of numbers add or subtract to 23 (That was at the peak of the obsession)
* In the movie Jeepers Creepers the creature gets to feed every 23 years for 23 days.
* In Grandma's Boy, Samantha's office number is 23.
* Yankee stadium was built in 1923... I know cause my grandpa has a coffee mug that states the date.
** Blink-182 mentions 23 in their song "What's My Age Again" when they say, "...nobody likes you when you're 23..."
** Scud is having his wedding reception on the 23rd.
** In Inglorious Bastards, during the theater scene, one of the bastards gets assigned to seat 0023
** The next James Bond movie will be Bond #23.
** Our The Number 23 blog is the most viewed blog on our page. (Yes, I do check the stats on the blog. I have a curious obsession with how our twitter and blog are doing. It's kind of my baby... I said that to C and he laughed at me. It's deserved. *laughs*)
** One of our recent stats said on the week of Jan 23- Jan 30, more specifically on 01/28/10 at 23:00 hours we had 9 page views. Coincidence? I think not!
** J went to Taco Bell, and his order number was 23.

* In 2012, the majority of the group will be 23 years old, and the world is supposed to end on December 23rd... (I'm just saying, if the world ends, it's appropriate that we are 23 when it happens.)

I'm sure that there are at least 50 other references or stories that I could bring up, referring to the number 23, but I can't think of them all right now. I know that once I post this, one of the boys will probably point out another 23 reference, and I'll add it to the list (when they do, I'll make a ** next to them). Until then....

...... it's everywhere.......
                B

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According to our good friend Char, he discovered that he had extra five senses when he switched teams. The senses are:

6) fashion sense
7) every girl becomes your best friend
8) gaydar
9) every mom loves you
10) womens intuition 

C said that must make him invincible (then again, C was really drunk and doesn't remember this). He has the brain of a man, and a women's intuition?... He's unstoppable. I should know, he tortures me with his innuendoes. Bastard.

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This year's 2011 Dessert champ is.... CHEESECAKE!!!

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Scud Saga Part 5: The Finale


Just to get you guys ready for the finale, I’d like to throw in a few small stories that Scud told us. I may screw up a few details, but I will do my best. Scud decided he wanted to go ice skating (I believe with Morgan). Somehow, he pissed another skater off. Later this skater would stab Scud in the foot with his skate. I’m not sure if I believe the story. Another time, while working at Six Flags, Scud refused to allow a small child to ride a roller coaster (the kid was shorter than the minimum height). The child’s father punched Scud in the face. Nice.

One day at lunch, Scud voluntarily told C, G, and I a story about how he was driving two girls around town (1 of which was Morgan). The two girls were in the back seat. Momentarily, he took a look back, and the two girls were making out (aggressively). We peppered Scud with questions about this (we obviously were fascinated at the lesbian affair Scud found himself in). Scud was oddly honest and answered all of our questions. Apparently, the girls continued and continued. I’m sure Scud enjoyed himself. After the story ended, Scud turned around, and I noticed that he was wearing two pairs of basketball shorts (no boxers, just shorts). Scud was notorious for wearing shorts. He never wore pants, ever. Ever. Even if was 10 degrees outside, Scud wore shorts. But two pairs of shorts? Given that he just told us a story about lesbian sex in the backseat of his car, I figured Scud wouldn’t mind telling us why he needed to wear two pairs of shorts. I asked him. He didn’t want to talk about it. I asked again. Remember that Scud was not particularly athletic or graceful. Apparently, my second attempt pissed him off, because Scud then performed the greatest athletic fete of his life. He flew over the table, landed gracefully behind me, and grabbed my neck. He twisted my neck to the side, inches from death or paralysis. With Scud’s lack of muscle control and clumsiness, Scud could have broken my neck at any moment. However, not a single person did anything. We were in a cafeteria full of people and nobody seemed to notice that I was about to die. Since Scud had his arms around my neck, I couldn’t get enough air to scream. C, sitting immediately to my right, was laughing hysterically. He could see the pain I was in. But rather than help me, he continued to laugh… and laugh… and laugh… Finally C (possibly the only person strong enough to physically remove Scud from my neck) pushed Scud away. And that is how C saved my life… eventually. The moral of the story: lesbian sex- fair game, shorts- off limits.
Epilogue:
I haven’t seen Scud since high school ended, but Scud’s adventures have not ended. Apparently, he moved to Thailand for a few years (seriously). I’m not sure exactly why he went to Thailand (use your imagination). He has worked several jobs (he got fired from Six Flags). And now… he’s MARRIED. It says so on Facebook. And everyone knows if it says so on Facebook… Scud’s trying to learn Spanish for her (I believe she is Mexican- if I’m wrong, it’s not because I’m racist). If he partially learns Spanish, it will be the third language Scud isn’t fluent in. Keep trying Scud.

D

(A note from B to D: Didn't Scud get fired from Six Flags for not checking the safety belts on the rides? And didn't he also get fired from being a manager in Wildwood, and a card dealer in Atlantic City? lol you can't forget to mention all those things!)

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Scud Saga Part 4
 
C reminded me today that I missed a few bits of information that are crucial to the Scud Saga. During our senior year, Scud worked at Six Flags Great Adventure, which is like 25 minutes from our town. Scud took his job very seriously. I think he worked rides, which seems silly to me since I never thought Scud was the most responsible person. I never thought he had that much common sense either. If I were bringing my child to Six Flags, I would think twice (thrice?) about letting my kid on the ride. Scud cared so much about his job that he would cut class every week to go to work. Every Friday after lunch (2 classes followed lunch), Scud would walk to his car and drive away. He missed those 2 classes multiple times a week for the entire year. I believe that the high school had a policy that you could only miss a class 15 times before you failed the class. Scud must have missed classes close to 70 times. Near graduation, the high school told Scud that he could not miss another day or he would not graduate. There were 2 weeks left. He missed every day of school. He graduated anyway. I assume that high school just finally wanted to get rid of him once and for all. Probably a good call.
 
This is where the stories get really good.
 
While working at Six Flags, Scud met a nice young lady named Morgan. J and C used to joke that she was black. Scud denied it. I don’t really know the truth. Luckily, the truth doesn’t impact the quality of the story. However, given that I trust J and C more than I do Scud, it’s amusing that Scud was so adamant that she was not black. Anyway, Scud was enamored with this girl. Poor girl. I can’t really express in writing how legendary this girl became to our group. We’d see Scud when he got to lunch and ask him how Morgan was doing. He didn’t like it. Soon he stopped bring her up, until this one time…
 
When we moved out of the pit into the cafeteria, we were no longer able to harass Scud to the extent that we did before. J had moved to a different lunch, so C, G, and I were left to mess with Scud under the gaze of the entire lunch room. Fortunately, it was louder up there, so we could still have some fun. One day, Scud came to lunch from GYM sweating brown. Scud was not as pale as A (then again who is), so brown streaks down his face caught C’s attention. C asked, “Scud is that rub-on tan?” Scud, “No!” C, “It is rub-on tan!” If C says something loud enough it has to be true (in addition to things that rhyme), so Scud soon admitted it. He claimed to have applied rub on tan before he drove to school in the morning. Somehow nobody noticed the odd color of Scud’s face. I guess the odd shape of Scud’s face clouded the difference in color.
 
The Scud Finale (nearly the end of my life) will be in Part 5.
D

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With South Park on in the background… Part 3:


Scud considered himself to be an author. In fact, he even wrote a manuscript. I say manuscript because unfortunately it was never published. Since it was never published, few people ever read his literary masterpiece. Scud wrote what we like to call his sex novel. Just like any other author, Scud included characters from his life, including C and G. You can imagine how excited they were to be in Scud’s sex novel. Yeah, really excited.

"It was a dark and stormy night…” Well-read in the classics, Scud paid homage to his favorite writers by beginning his sex novel with possibly the most cliché opening in the history of literature. From what we could see, he wrote nearly 50 pages. I was impressed that he was capable of that. Unfortunately, when we grabbed his novel to take a look and saw the opening, he snatched it back and ran away. Scud destroyed his sex novel. He never mentioned it again. Since we never got to see what he wrote about C and G, we can only assume they were engaged in extremely graphic sexual exploits. Knowing Scud, the story was probably highly inappropriate and nonsensical.

One day, Scud went to the library and left his back pack behind. Briefly, I’d like to mention how much fun frustrating Scud was. He would flail his arms and roar (similar to the ass in face incident). It usually ended in a good laugh. Fortunately, this was one of those times. J and I took everything out of Scud’s bag, turned the bag inside out, and put Scud’s stuff back in. We placed the bag exactly where he left it. Right before Scud returned, a friend of ours (Habib) finally arrived to lunch (not sure where he was). I want to make it clear that Habib had no idea what was going and had no role in our joke. Scud came down the stairs, saw his bag different than he left it (he probably expected us to mess with him), and start wailing. The vice principal, who was nearby at the time, heard Scud and came down the stairs to the pit. He immediately accused Habib of messing with Scud and threatened him with detention for lying. J and I stepped up and admitted it was we who had fucked with Scud’s bag. The whole time Scud did not realize that his stuff was inside the bag. He must have thought we burned it or threw it in the garbage. It’s possible he never realized it. This was the last day we were allowed to eat lunch in the pit. The vice principal forbid us from going down there, and we were forced to eat in the cafeteria for the rest of the year. Fortunately, the best Scud stories happened after this point.

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I just watched Duke lose their first game in a long time. It was rough, so I’m going to write the rest of the Scud stories to cheer myself up. Scud has a way of doing that: making you remember that very few things are worth getting upset about (especially sports). Scud never let his “accidents” stop him from making future “accidents.” Some people think not learning from your mistake is a problem. I am usually one of those people. I have a friend at college who has made the same mistakes for 4 years. Each mistake is predictable, so when he ignores my advice I get frustrated. Sometimes really frustrated. On the other hand, I don’t make mistakes anymore. Since I certainly don’t know everything or even most things, my success is really from a lack of taking changes. Scud took chances. Even if they were dumb chances, he still did what he wanted, whether or not people thought he was stupid. I don’t know why Duke losing made me think of this, but apparently Scud is somebody who I should emulate in the future. (A note from B to D, are you sure emulating Scud is the best idea).
And now more stories…

All of the following stories took place senior year of high school. I was (un)fortunate to have lunch with Scud, C, J, and G (B hasn’t named him I assume because we rarely see him.)

In our high school, seniors had the “privilege” of sitting in the pit, a small basement to the main cafeteria. At some point that year, we caused enough trouble to lose that privilege, mostly related to Scud. Wherever Scud walked in the high school, he always wore head phones. Most people assumed he was listening to music. I assumed he was listening to music so people would leave him alone. I was half right. One day Scud took off his headphones and walked up the stairs to buy lunch. Scud would never let us see what he was listening to, so we took the opportunity to take a look at his CD of choice. Scud’s CD of choice was nothing, and by nothing I mean THERE WAS NO CD IN THE CD PLAYER. Scud was walking around the whole day listening to nothing. Although I have no way of knowing whether he ever actually listened to music, I believe that Scud just walked around listening to silence while wearing headphones so that people would leave him alone. See: I was half-right. He received so much crap from people. He just wanted some alone time with himself, his thoughts, and his empty CD player. Now that we knew Scud listened to an empty CD player even 1 time, we were not going to let him off the hook anymore. Another day, while Scud was walking listening to “music,” somebody grabbed his headphones and yanked them off his hand. Fortunately for Scud, the CD player did not fall from his pocked and smash on the floor. Unfortunately for Scud, he must have put on the wrong shorts in the morning since there was no CD player at all. The headphones were connected to nothing. I don’t know if Scud even realized it.

I’m tired. More for another day.
D

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I can’t remember when I first met Scud. Regardless, all of my memories of him are from high school, and all of them are hilarious (at least we think so). Those of us who had the good fortune to be bystanders to Scud’s antics regularly reminisce about him. Whenever my college friends visit my NJ friends and I, the Scud Saga is my go-to ice breaker. Everybody can relate to his story. Even while writing this, my mind is burgeoning with excitement to relive the Scud Saga with myself. Unfortunately, I normally co-tell this story with C, who was the only witness to certain Scud stories. Although I will do my best to relive the Scud stories, the tale will be lacking the physical and audio imitations provided by C of Scud’s movements and voice (if you’ve seen “Scud Falls,” you already have an idea of Scud’s presence). Also, the stories may not be in chronological order. The time Scud almost killed me kind of shook up his story in my mind to the extent that Scud became a fleeting moment in my life, never to be seen again.

A quick background: Michael Scudero was born in Brooklyn, NY (I presume) at some point in the late 1980s. Anthropologists have spent years trying to narrow it down to a specific year, but as you can imagine, Scud’s existence is known more through word of mouth than by official documentation (other than a marriage certificate- more on that later). Scud was lovable but physically awkward. One of his arms was longer than the other (can’t remember which) which caused him problems in all aspects of physical movement: walking, running, standing, reaching. Additionally, Scud was oddly shaped: not particularly overweight but with fat layered non-uniformly across his body. He was far from graceful. Imagine a heavy dog with only 3 legs: definitely still lovable but prone to accidents. Although he was very strong, his coordination and athleticism were poor (not poor enough for my health unfortunately – more on that also later). Finally, Scud spoke in a heavy Italian accident which he picked up from years of living in Brooklyn. Although his speech pattern suggested otherwise, Scud was surprisingly intelligent.

Scud and C played football together for a few years (these are the stories that only C truly knows). One year, Scud did not show up for training camp on time. Rather than being angry at him for his absence, the team was amused that nobody had heard from Scud for the entire summer. He finally arrived weeks late for camp. He burst through the doors to the weight room, and before anybody could ask him where he’d been for months, Scud wailed his arms and shouted in his thick Italian accent, “I lost my virginity!” The room exploded into laughter, and Scud was welcomed warmly back to the team. Only Mike Scudero could miss 3 weeks of training camp without an explanation and suffer no punishment. Out of respect to Scud, I will not share wear Scud actually was, but use your imagination. Wherever he went, I didn’t notice any difference upon his return.

Another Scud story only C was a witness to: Scudero was driving C and a friend around town on a commercial highway. Sitting in the back seat, C pulled his pants down in an attempt to moon Scudero in his rear-view mirror. C told Scud that there was a cop behind him. Rather than use his mirror to look back, Scud turned his head and jammed his face into C’s ass. Scud screamed, flailed his arms, and let go off the wheel. The car shot through two lanes of traffic until C’s friend grabbed the wheel and prevented an accident just in time. I still don’t know why C agreed to be in a car while Scud was driving. Ask C when you see him.

More stories next time.
D

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We went to high school with this kid. Eventually the boys and I will have to sit down and write all the crazy stories we have about him. There are plenty...

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1) No Politics
2) No Religion
3) No spitting..... (directly instated due to T)
4) No vomiting..... (I've mentioned this before, A has a problem. lol)
5) No Guns... (But machetes are alright.)
6) No crying.... (No one has actually cried in the garage yet. We'd like to keep it that way.)
7) No Bro Ice-ing.....(Except for A)

These rules are subject to change at anytime, and we reserve the right to add more if necessary.

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Dearest A... This is what you get for calling me the "c" word... Payback is a bitch.



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