Monday, March 23, 2009

The Champion

It took me five days to get over that fucking flu. Five miserable, snotty, head aching days. And I know that sweaty bastard has to be the one that gave it to me. HAS to be.

So, before I disappeared last week to smother myself with tissues I’d planned on writing about the aforementioned sweaty bastard that most likely gave me the flu. I was a little hesitant about it. At first I though, “Wow…this probably makes me look like a big slut.” So I put it off.

Now that I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, “Who gives a rat’s ass. I have nothing else to write about…and it’s nothing if not, um, entertaining.” I comfort myself with the fact that I’m not really a slut. There are men out there ten times worse than I’ve ever had time to be. Screw the double standard that will likely never die.

That night I went out with my cousin and his fiancé and another girlfriend of mine. We went to dinner and then to a bar in the small downtown district. I’d usually rather sit home and stare at a wall before I’d go to a bar in my town, especially this particular one. I avoid it like the plague. It’s like a high school reunion every time. Ugh. However, my cousin doesn’t like the city night life like I do and he was paying for all of our drinks so I said, “Why the fuck not?”

It actually wasn’t bad. They had a sort of early St. Patty’s thing going. We went upstairs where it was less crowded to play a couple games of pool. Of course I ran into the usual small town school folks that never leave, (I’m still desperately trying NOT to be one of them.) but it wasn’t so bad.

A guy that my cousin knew well was playing at the table next to ours. He graduated a few years before I did, but I knew him from parties, rumors, and the usual small town run-in. He’d recently gotten back from Iraq, which surprised me. He’d been pretty big into drugs last I heard.

Anyway, he came and said hi to everyone and I could tell he was pretty wasted (but probably only slightly more than I was). When he got to me he shouted, “HEEEEYYYY! JIMMY’S DAUGHTER! WHAT’S UP?”

Yet another reason I avoid small town bars. There’s always one…always…that fucking calls me “Jimmy’s daughter”. I cannot stress just how much I hate being referred to as JIMMY’S GODDAMNED DAUGHTER. As if having the man show up to nearly every party for my entire high school career wasn’t enough embarrassment to last a life time. Not to watch out for me, never that. He was either already there and drunk, passing out god knows what, when I arrived or showed up later. Everyone thought he was fantastic of course. No one else’s dad partied as hard or gave out as many free illegal substances as old Jimbo. He’s a legend. It’s been years and he’s still causing me embarrassment merely by name association. Sometimes when they talk about how cool he was I want to tell them, “Yeah, he’s the coolest! I think it’s great that all of you got to snort my college fund up your noses!” I digress.

I sneered at him. “That’s not my fucking name.”

“I know your name, geeze, Ally...chill.”

We all went back to our games. My cousin started buying shots. About an hour and a half later (I’m estimating), I was lit like a Christmas tree. Everything was lovely! The originally offending party was especially lovely with his military muscles and tattoos. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to sleep with him or not. He’d approached my cousin and expressed an interest I was already plainly aware of, even in my drunken state.

The deciding factor that tipped the scales in his favor? He said, “You know, your dad and I were at (somewhere) once (back when I was still in school) talking and he opened up his wallet for something. I saw your picture and I said, ‘I didn’t know she was your daughter. Nice!’, and he said, ‘Stay away from my daughter’. He scared the shit out of me. He doesn’t live here anymore, right?”

I laughed so hard I spit my drink out, barely missing some poor player.

“No, he doesn’t. We’re leaving soon. Are you coming with me?”

That was all she wrote. He left before we did and I made plans to meet him where I’d left my car. HA Jimmy!

Skipping over the majority of the in transit details, I met the other guy and he rode with me to my cousin’s house. During the drive, we were both more sober and had a pretty decent conversation. Nothing to write home about, but he was a little more intelligent than I’d originally thought. We hung out with my cousin and his fiancé for awhile before they went to bed. I took him to the guest room.

I really didn’t want to complain about another sex partner. I didn’t want it to seem like I’m this really hard to satisfy bitch, because I’m not. I just have really, really bad luck. Evidently. So here it goes.

Before I could do anything he had my arms pinned to my sides and was trying to swallow my entire face. I ended up jerking my head side to side so much I’m surprised I didn’t end up with whiplash.

The sex itself wasn’t so first. Then the sweating started.

Sweat is normal. I understand that, especially given the acrobatics he was pulling out. But his sweating was not normal at all. He started to get slick. I started to get slick. It was fine as long as I stayed on top, but he kept throwing me around all over the place. It started to drip off his forehead and nose and when he pulled me back under him, it started soaking my hair. I was gritting my teeth and trying to decide if it was funny or disgusting when a giant drop fell directly into my eye. INTO MY EYE.

I froze and opened my mouth to say, I’m not exactly sure, but that wasn’t a good idea. I sputtered and coughed and made him get out and go get a towel.

He was apologetic and wiped my face and his. Against my better judgment, activities commenced. That’s when it got weird.

I love talking shit. Love it. It can be quite sexy. Unfortunately, what came out of his mouth was not. I didn’t initiate the talking. He asked me once if I liked it rough. I said yes and he took that as an OK to turn into the Shump Daddy. (Taken from his last name…how clever.)

He started pulling my hair. Ok. Great. Good. Fine.

“…you like that baby?”

“…uh huh…”

(This is gonna get graphic…)

“Whose pussy is it?”




THAT’S RIGHT! Say its Shump Daddy’s pussy!”


He yanked hard on my hair.


I started convulsing on top of him…with laughter. I was biting my lip so hard, but little noises kept coming out, which he took as pleasure.


I choked it out as best as I could, trying to keep from laughing out loud completely which made me shake harder, which made him think I was about to have a melt down.


I lost it. I stopped and doubled up laughing, out loud this time.

“What’s so funny!?”

I couldn’t stop laughing. He was perturbed. He grabbed my hair in one hand and my throat in the other, not really putting any pressure on it, but the intent was clear. I gasped when he pulled my head back. Which meant game on again, I guess.

He got so excited that he flipped me under him again and, pardon my rough and descriptive phrasing, pounded me so hard if I’d been a nail, he’d have hammered me through a whole stack of boards. You know how guys sometimes do that REALLY fast, vibrating, jack hammer thing? Yeah, it was like that. I grabbed a pillow and pressed it over my face, as much to muffle the laughter as to stop my head from jolting off my neck.

That’s probably the worst of it. It turned out to be about a two hour ordeal. I finally had to fake the most dramatic orgasm I’ve ever faked in my life. And I really, truly hate to do that because then they think they’re great and make other women’s lives miserable. But he was crazy. I didn’t really have a choice.

While he went outside to smoke I started cleaning up the room. The sheets were completely soaked with sweat. I mean SOAKED. They could have just come out of a washing machine they were so wet. I took everything to the laundry room and threw it in the washer. Then I went to the bathroom.

I looked like maniac. My hair was wet and matted, mascara all over my face, bruises starting to show up all over. I combed my hair out with my fingers and put it in a ponytail and prepared to get rid of the Shump Daddy.

Thankfully he went kind of quietly. With a parting, “I really pounded you good, huh?”

I couldn’t answer without having hysterics, so I just nodded.

I went directly home (it was 6am by now) and got in the shower.

The guy had to have been on something other than alcohol. I’m guessing cocaine. Of course I had to tell my cousin and his fiancé about it. They thought it was absolutely hilarious and have been calling me ‘The Champion’ ever since.


It’s that asshole’s fault I got the flu. I know it.

Ah well. Another notch, another laugh and I got 2 ½ days plus the weekend off from work. Still, I’ll be avoiding that bar and the Shump Daddy indefinitely.


joeygirl said...

this is the funniest shit i've read today.
i could not stop laughing - especially when i read your dialogue.
and as i was reading i was just waiting for you to say he was a jack hammer guy - just sounded like one of those unfortunate fools.

great story.

otherworldlyone said...

Thank you. Jack hammer guys...uh. Unfortunate fools...I like that description.

The Kid In The Front Row said...

This is hilarious!

miseryandsuffering said...

I'm close to sucking again? I don't get it. Great post by the way.. that guy sounds insane, worse than me in fact.

otherworldlyone said...

M&S: Nevermind! Worse than you? I'm afraid to ask. I thought British men were supposed to be all suave and......Stuff. Surely you have nothing in common with that... abomination?

M said...

You faked an orgasm? Haha. Hahaha.

otherworldlyone said...

Why in the world would you pick THAT to comment on out of everything? You're such a weirdo.

M said...

Precisely because I knew you would ask me why I would pick that one topic out of all of that. You see, I'm schemish. Oh, and I have a one-track mind.

Sally-Sal said...

The Shump Daddy. Oh dear Lord. You should see if you can get hazard pay from the government for that one.

EmmaK said...

stop ....too funny
i'm gonna wet myself

Mega8815 said...

Just read this post for the first time and HAD to comment. I thought I was gonna fall off my chair. Probably because I can relate. Sort of. Haha!!!!

Mr. Condescending said...

holy shit lol IT'S SHUMP DADDYS PUSSY!

I'm so tired but this made me laugh ssoooo hard!

Heather said...

Over a year later and this is still comment worthy.

I laughed so fucking hard I almost pissed my power puff themed thong!!!!

Metisrose said...

I am still sitting here in shock that we can post stuff like that....and swear to boot! Holy hanna....gonna have to loose all inhibitions and that holy 'hanna' crap with Blogger I guess. I was always wondering what the hell to write about and be all sweet and shit. Ha haaa brilliant post...that reminded me of high school!! Thanks.....

nuisance said...

hi i added ur weblog in mine.i ask u to add mine in urs

Anthony Hodgson said...

The shump daddy PMSL did he watch American pie before hand?

Heather Rahn said...

Oh dude...I just started reading your blog today when I saw it on the Blogs of Note list...and I must say, I love you. Not in a lesbian love kind of way, but in a I think we were seperated at birth kind of way. I just read this post at work and could barely contain the laughter and tears. Thank you for making my day brighter!!

Biohazard said...

Funny stuff! I have no idea what the "jackhammer" thing is, but it sounds annoying, lol.
Great post. :)

Keri said...

Oh my God... you are the best blogger I have EVER read. Where have you been all my life? Not word one about being a MOMMY, not one recipe (from what I've read so far), not one clever crafting idea, table setting, bargain, make over, coupon, blog hop or travel tip. I think I fucking love you.


Nuangel said...

whoops, just realised that i posted that comment to wrong blog .... no worries, am reading them all, the masturbation one is very funny too!!