Unforgivable Ambien

This is what happens when you take Ambien and don't go to sleep.

ROCKET RAZOR

Jager-Shit-Meister Response #2: The Perpetrators

First of all, I'm very sorry for my delayed response to such an amazing story. I've been busy with my life.

Ok, so, Let me clarify a few things about this cruel (funny) prank that I pulled on one of my best friends:

The first thing I want to talk about is the matter of the excrement itself and how it came to be. Contrary to popular belief, this was NOT my poop. Andrew Nehrig was in fact, the creator of the disgustingly large mass of feces you witnessed in the video shown in The Jager-Shit-Meister. This giant turd... in a red cup. You may have thought, "What the fuck!?" and "Why would someone shit in a cup?" I'm still asking these questions... and I was there. Let me explain.

It was a cold night in Palm Springs. A few of my buddies and I were lazily floating around in a hot tub at the public pool. It must have been like 11 or 12 at night and we were all drinking large amounts of alcohol, smoking pot, and being loud and obnoxious. (you know... the usual) Well after an hour or 2 of turning into prunes and being completely sauced, everyone except for Andrew and I had decided to go back to the house and hang there. I finish my drink and nod my head back as the bubbles hit my muscular back. Andrew notices (that I finished my drink... not how buff I am) and says, "Burke, give me your cup dude, I have to shit." Now I'm pretty fucked up at this point, but I'm still very uncertain about this request. I thought "Why the fuck does he need my cup to shit? Is he gunna scoop it up when he's done? or even to wear it as a hat maybe while he poops?" whatever the reason, I didn't know. So, suspiciously, I hand him my cup and just watch him very closely. He heads over to a couple of lounge chairs and pulls them together. He then places the cup under a small gap between the 2 chairs and squats over the top it. He had successfully Jimmy-Rigged a toilet in the middle of a public pool. The next scene was so gross, it's hard for me to write. I ducked my head laughing my ass off, because I couldn't believe that this wannabe MacGyver was pooping in public... on 2 lounge chairs... in a fucking cup. Just as I thought he was done and it could not get any weirder, I looked up and he was literally right in the middle of pooping out this triumphant-brown-bastard of a shit. I mean the poop was still swinging from his butt, hanging for dear life. So gross.

As he finished, Andrew and I talked about pranking one of our friends. In this case, Denny. He was being kind of a douche, and it seemed like a good idea. Andrew was still holding the poopy cup the whole time we devised this plan. I suddenly thought I was Johnny Knoxville and decided that we are in fact going to make one of our friends drink human feces. Not dog feces. Human feces. Andrew and I decided we had to get this on film, and that this was gonna be the greatest thing ever.

We leave the hot tub, and bring the cup along with us... We need a camera, so Andrew grabs one of the guys phones on the table... The rest is history.

After the video, Denny walked in and we gave him the drink. (We actually recorded this too, but I think Andrew deleted it, after he suffered from something called guilt... or so I think... after all, the guy wasn't even drunk) Denny nods his head in thanks and begins to take a sip of this Poopbeer Float. I'd be lying if I told you that I didn't laugh my ass off and didn't have to leave the room. As I was leaving, I kid you not, Denny yelled, "Burke! Oh my God! This is the best drink I have ever had!!" Like it was straight out of a fucking sitcom. I half-thought he caught on and knew I had tricked him... but then quickly corrected myself knowing that he wouldn't be that calm after knowingly drinking a large snake-like human poop.

Laughing uncontrollably at this point, I couldn't help but emphasize the word "shit" around Denny. The only conversation I strictly remember where I integrated my new word, was when Denny asked, "Burke, what did you put in this drink?" I then responded, "Oh nothing really, just some jager, some monster, and some shit, I dont remember."

The next morning I woke up feeling very guilty and shameful. My childish antics had gone too far... I had made one of my friends drink human poop. Then I realized "SHIT! I have to fucking drive this guy home in a couple hours... just me and him. I'm fucked." I quickly got up and told all the guys I was with to keep their mouths shut about the incidents that took place the night before, at least until we made it back home. They agreed and I made it home.

All I'm gunna say is that Denny found out. (Thanks Russ) I don't remember if it was that day or the next, but if my friend Mustain didn't live with me to restrain Denny at the time, I may have been force fed my own shit.

Sorry Denny, I'm an asshole. I love you man. We're Bromosexuals.

-Burke

Deadly Dome

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Blowjob Girl

Take note ladies this is exactly how I like my fellatio.

B-E-N-E-F-I-C-I-A-L?

Who would have thought that the final examination for Chicana Studies 1b would be the most extensive and challenging exam thus far in my college career?

Well, it was.

After a full 3 hours and a bluebook and a half of writing, my dome was 100% burnt out (not surprisingly).

Yet, it was time for my concluding sentence and I wanted to use the word "beneficial" in it. Like I said, my brain was fried. So fried that my attempts to spell the word "beneficial" were something like:

benificial?
benifitial?
benifisial?
benuhficial?
benefitial?
benefishul?

I know how ridiculous that sounds. I couldn't believe how retarded my brain was.

I finally got B-E-N-E-F-I-C-I-A-L! just as time expired. I wish i could see the look on my TA's face when she reads my test with "beneficial" crossed out 6 times, haha.

G-String In Jail

different camera, different angle:


On the night of November 5, at Harder Stadium, UCSB, I was arrested and hauled to the Santa Barbara County Jail for public intoxication while wearing nothing more than a tuxedo g-string and handcuffs.
I started drinking at 2:00pm that day in honor of UCSB’s big soccer game against Cal Poly later that evening. By the time I finished class around 6:00pm I was trashed and psyched for the game. My friends convinced me to streak during the second half. However the California State Penal Code for exposing one’s genitals in public requires that the person convicted register as a sex offender. In light of that, I decided not to streak in the traditional sense of 100% nakedness. So I dug through my closet and came upon a tuxedo g-string and cufflinks, a party boy Halloween costume I had worn previously. It was perfect: essentially nude without exposing any genitals.
To conceal my identity I painted a handlebar mustache and chop sideburns on my face. I also blacked out my eyes like a raccoon. Painted on my back were the words “FUCK POLY”. And, of course, no tuxedo is complete without a bowtie and cufflinks.
After stripping both the clothes from my body and the ball from Poly’s keeper, I scored a goal of my own- the only goal of the game, I might add. The roar of the crowd made me feel like a pro athlete again. To my surprise, another streaker simultaneously jumped on the field with me. He was wearing a pair Italian themed underwear with a printed penis on the front, as if he were purposely hiding his own genitals. We must have read the same penal code.
Anyway, by now I had my eyes on the planned escape route. But in the chaos of the moment, my intoxicated legs just sort of tripped over themselves. The next thing I knew my face was in the grass and some security guard was mounted on top of my backside. I remember him saying, “Got you good fucker! Got you”! LOL. Man, whoever you are, you didn’t get shit, okay? I fell down. Then you just sort of laid on top of me. And at least I’m not the one chasing a naked dude across a field in front of 10,000 people. By the way all you security guards are slow as shit.
I slid with such force that, when I fell down, the front part of my g-string had slipped down to about mid-thigh. I thought for sure when I got up that my junk would be flopping for all to see, which would have completely defeated the purpose of me trying to cover up in the first place. In that split second, I pictured myself walking door to door through IV having to explain to all my neighbors why I’m a sex offender. But luckily the back part of the g-string was still fit firmly around the top of my buns and waist. The elasticity of the string snapped the sac package back into position when I stood up, like a slingshot.
What I remember most about the arrest was how damn itchy my bod was: I was covered in grass from the fall, except I couldn’t do anything about it because I was cuffed. It was the most uncomfortable, hopeless feeling of my life. The cop wouldn’t itch my tummy when I asked him.
I had never been to jail before., but I think the combination of intoxication and exhilaration distracted me from any fearful expectations. Inmates gathered around the tiny windows of the holding cells and stared and laughed as I was being escorted through the complex in just my g-string and handlebar mustache with chops. Too bad their printer was broken. I coulnd’t receive a copy of my mug shot. All the guards called all their guard buddies to come check out “this crazy dude in a g-string”. They searched me, haha. They actually made me put my hands on the wall and spread ‘em. When I was ordered by one of the guards to remove my shoe laces I asked, “How come? So I can’t hang myself?” He chucked and looked towards my waist, referring to what I was wearing and said, “That should be the least of your worries at this point.” However he was nice enough to lend me an official county jail jumpsuit for the night.
I didn’t sleep a wink. The drunk tank sucks. It was like being crammed in a public restroom with fifteen of the most disgusting, dirty, grungy men anyone could imagine. The concrete floor was cold and wet. But the worst part of the whole night was the damn cotton mouth. Holy crap. I would have done anything for some Chap Stick and water.
I was released at 5:00am. They were kind enough to lend me some pants, a t-shirt, and an official pair of “county jail” boxers. But with no money and no phone I couldn’t call any of my friends to come pick me up. So I figured, “meh, I still have my running shoes on and IV can’t be any further than like three miles”, then I ditched the jeans in order to run faster. Picture a guy charging it down the 217 at 5:30am in white boxers that have “county jail” printed on the side, haha. It ended up being about a six mile run home, but a nice one. The sun was coming up and I was getting my day’s workout in. It was a fitting end to a night of the unexpected.

Current property of: http://www.dailynexus.com/

Response to shit-meister

Hello all, I am Denny Reed and my so called "friends" put shit in my drink as you have previously read. As Russell previously stated, "they all felt guilty and vowed never to tell anyone". Well my friends that is a load of crap. I specifically remember the whole night they kept overusing the word shit. They said shit any time they could use the word. While they said the word, they were all laughing hysterically. So a rebuttle to the guilt they claimed they had, well that's just a load of "SHIT"! Thank you for posting this Russ as a reminder of what kind of dirtbags we are friends with. I could have died!!

p.s. When I found out the news I rushed to Burke's house and charged him. Nick knows the look in my eyes when I will kill, and obviously I had it. I proceeded to shove him to the ground and he fell like a sack of bricks. Good thing Mustain was there or else I would be serving 50 to life. Burke you are a disgrace of a human being.

The Jager-Shit-Meister

The time is 1:10am, and I have a final in 6 hours and 50 minutes.
Amidst the heavy stress that I am currently facing, I am putting all of my academic worries on hold to present our lucky viewers with a rare diamond in the rough...

You must be forewarned: For what I am about to present to you is very graphic in nature, and is NOT for the weak of stomach and heart.

Let me take you back to a simpler time...

The year is 2007, I'm pretty sure this took place over spring break?..or was it summer?. Anyway, that is all irrelevant.

A few of our Extra Horny Gentlemen had decided to take advantage of the gorgeous Southern California weather and take a short vacation trip to Palm Springs for a few days. For whatever reason, I chose not to attend this trip. (actually, I just wasn't invited) A few days pass by and my friends return to Huntington Beach, from a seemingly incredible vacation. You know: Lots of drinking, drug abusing, womanizing, tanning, gambling etc etc. So I'm sitting on my computer chatting online with one of my friends whom was on the trip. (he has requested to remain anonymous)

So anyway, I'm chatting with one of my friends online and he goes:

"yeah bro, I was so drunk that whole trip. I came home and found this fucking weird video on my phone. I don't know who recorded it, but I'm almost positive that it couldn't have been me. Here check it out..."




Please notice how the video ends rather abruptly.
So after viewing this incredibly graphic and cruel video, I began to freak out.
"There is no fucking way that Burke, would actually trick our beloved friend, Denny into drinking a cocktail containing the feces of another human being!"
It brings me great and utter regret to tell you all, that I was absolutely wrong.

Immediately after I had seen this grotesque footage, I demanded an answer from my anonymous friend.
"PLEASE TELL ME THAT THEY DID NOT MAKE DENNY DRINK THE POOP!"
He simply replied, "Dude, I was so drunk. I don't even remember."
That answer was simply not adequate, so I immediately pulled out my phone and dialed Denny's number.

Denny: "Russ What's up?"
Me: "Please tell me that you didn't end up drinking that poop"
Denny: "huh?"
Me: "The Cup with Jager and shit inside of it, PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN'T DRINK IT!"
(roughly 5 seconds of silence)
Denny: I AM GOING TO KILL NICK BURKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(click)

Never in my life, had I heard so much rage come from a human being, let alone through the telephone.

It was at that moment I began to think, "uh oh, Denny didn't even know that he drank a cocktail with human feces inside of it....oh shit, Burke is dead."

About 10 minutes later, I received a phone call from Burke.
"Dude, WHY DID YOU TELL DENNY!?!?"
It had turned out that Burke and his other accomplices vowed to keep it a secret from Denny after experiencing the guilt of watching one of their best friends willingly drink a cocktail made up of Jagermeister, Monster Energy Drink, and human excrement.
To make matters even worse: according to eyewitnesses, he even stated that his drink was "fucking great" and that it was "The greatest drink he'd ever had" (I'm sorry Denny.)

Let this be a reminder girls (and guys) across the world, since we are all now turning 21 and hitting up the local bars: Do Not Accept Drinks from Strangers. (or in this case, your best friends)

Queefimous Fartimous

Due to popular demand, I will share with you a story of an actual incident that happened like six months ago after my girlfriend of two years broke up with me. To regress, I hope this story is the first of our many "Sexcapades" entered into this blog.

Ok. Ok. So, I was having sex with this girl (No Names) I had met somewhere, at someplace, on some night. I was on top of her... she was on top of me... everything was going relatively well... Perhaps too well. About an hour and a half into it, I was unable to hang in there any longer and I decided to flip her around and end with a "doggystyle" finish. So, I'm slamming her... slamming her some more... a little more... and I finally pull out and cum. I'm so exhausted that I literally collapse forward where my face lands directly on her butt. As I'm catching my breathe and reliving how amazing and talented I am at sex, I hear (and feel) this strange "feeewwwp!!!"(fart noise) right on my face. Literally... right around my fucking mouth. I jump up and pause for a second, glarring at her trying to realize what the fuck just actually happened. Did she really just fart on my face!? perhaps in my mouth!? I start laughing uncontrollably about how gross and ridiculous the situation is. So hard in fact, that I feel feces in my underpants. (Not only did I get farted on but I may have just shit my pants as well, whatever the case, there was no time to check) She was literally mortified. I'm laughing histerically rolling around on the floor and she's racing to get dressed on the verge of tears. She didn't even try to justify herself, she knew exactly what she did. Trying to calm her embarassment down while I'm still laughing I say, "It's not that big of deal... Really, I'm not gunna tell anyone." I lied. Not only was it a very big deal, I also told a few of my friends. She ended up leaving and I never really talked to her again. To my utter suprise I later found out that it was a queef and not a fart... how am I supposed to know? The thing sounded like a juicy-wet fart from someone who hasn't shit in days.

I will be writing a few more "Sexcapades" in the future. Hopefully, my fellow Gentlemen have some amusing stories as well.

-Burke

Fucking Fuck Fuck

The time is 3:08am on Sunday March 15th (the Ides of March)
I am supposed to be studying for my Social Psychology final on Tuesday.
I have not learned a damn thing, and I got a D on my midterm.
So there is a high level of urgency, especially considering that I have roughly 600 pages of reading to do in order to be all caught up.

But what am I doing instead?

I am browsing www.twitter.com and fueling my burning addiction to internet social networking websites, of which already consume roughly 85% of my life.

Right now, I am stalking Diddy on Twitter and loving every moment of it, rather than learning about the principles of attraction and intimacy in chapter 11 of my Social Psychology textbook.

For those of you unaware, I dropped a class during 8th week (a quarter is 10 weeks), and I am not currently passing my other 2 classes.

I Really, Really Hate Myself Right Now.

2 Misdemeanors and 5 empty Jager bottles.

This about sums up my entire weekend. Looking back at it now, I probably should have just went to Russell's party. Judging by the pictures it looked pretty fun, but it looks like there were a bunch of random mother fuckers there. Anyways, My friend Wes and I, were about 30 minutes away from our destination, we were heading to the land of environmentally friendly hippie stoners (Santa Cruz) to party with some friends. We are on a two lane highway and are right behind the highway patrolman, he pulls over to the side and lets us pass him. We pass him and he then proceeds to do a U-turn in the opposite direction, this is an immediate sign for Wes to decide to go faster. Well about 45 seconds later, we hear the sirens, see the lights, and are pulling over to the side of the road. Now at this point I am not really panicking, I know that there is about 100 dollars worth of Jagermeister in the back, but I figure the officer is just going to give us a speeding ticket and let us go on our way. "License and registration please," he says. Wes proceeds to give him his registration but he cant seem to find his license, he then starts searching the back of the car for it. The officer decides he wants to help Wes find his license in the back of our car. All the while I am shitting my pants because there is a lot of alcohol back there and my fake ID. The Officer opens the door and starts to rummage through all our stuff, all I hear is *clank* clank.* We are fucked. He then proceeds to grill us about where and how we got it, and we both are just lying are asses off, but making sure to say "sir" at the end of each of our useless lies. "I swear to god none of us have a fake ID, sir." "I don't know how that got there, sir." He then searches through all our shit claiming to look for "Crystal Weed." Now I am not a huge pot smoker, but I have no idea what "Crystal Weed" is. Weed laced with crystal meth? Or this guy didn't know his ass from his face. I think the latter of the two. He forages through my bags with his dirty paws and finds my fake ID and run the numbers through the database. It turns out that the drivers lisence number is actually legit, and is someone girl named Ellis or something, and she lives in Arizona? I am now sitting in the passenger seat watching Officer Dickhead make Wes pour out all of Jager on the side of the road. He calls me out just to tell me that he should be taking me to jail and let Wes go on his way, but he is being nice. I thought to myself, "What was the point of that? Does this guy want me to thank him for handing me 2 misdemeanors and 5 empty bottles of Jager? As far as I am concerned this piggy can go fuck himself." We finally get to Santa Cruz (after a 7 and half hour drive), but I am sorry to say no amount of beer pong games will make me feel better, or drown out the sorrow of what just happened.


It is now official, I am a criminal. Just add it to my record, the first petty theft charge (which later turned into a burglary charge, police don't like me) wasn't that big of deal. Add two more misdemeanors to the mix and I am starting look more like Ted Bundy, well maybe not that severe, I haven't murdered anyone. But shit, the cops sure treat me like I have. I have had long conversations with my brother about this, and the fact is we are sleazeballs. We can't work normal jobs, we can't be fireman or policeman, we just have to do shisty things to make money. I'm thinking Frank and Jesse James, lets rob some banks or some shit. My brother on the hand is constantly referring to himself as Danny Ocean. Well shit, if he is Danny Ocean then I am Rusty Ryan (Brad Pitt, obviously I am the better looking one) and lets hit Vegas baby. Realistically, I am going to have to get a real job and pay off these tickets, and bum rides off my bro because my license is most likely going to get suspended for a year. I blame him fully, it is his Karma because I had to drive his ass around for a year, and now its his turn to chauffeur me around.

Breaking News!

Ladies and Germs,

Here at the League of Extra Horny Gentlemen, it has been brought to our attention that something has been lacking from this blog. Stories concerning sperm donation and gayness can only attract so much attention. This blog is supposed to be about manhood and living the modern gentleman lifestyle. We have neglected a major aspect of what it is all about to be a Gentleman. For this, we apologize. We have taken it upon ourselves to provide our lucky viewers at home with our latest signing, the 'Reformed Bad Boy' himself, Mr. Denny Reed!

Mr. Reed will be here to provide all of our lucky viewers with his thought-provoking and insightful sports commentary. chances are more than likely that Mr. Reed has forgotten more than you will ever learn concerning anything inside the world of sports. Mr. Reed specifically asked to come aboard just in time for March Madness!

For those of you unaware, Mr. Reed is going to be the next Dicky V. (and you can hold us to that)
So, before you embarrass yourself and submit your brackets, check here for the latest Bracketology and commentary!

A Weekend on Trigo

The Top 5 Shittiest Everyday Activities to Perform With the Temporary Loss of Limb

I never realized how much I use my left hand, until I broke my wrist.

Here are my top 5 shittiest aspects of having a broken wrist:

5) Spliffs are nearly impossible to roll.
4) Spliffs are nearly impossible to light.
3) I can only finger one chick at a time.
2) Washing myself.
1) I can only smoke one spliff at a time.

Jay's munchie'$ saving tip of the day:

due to our nation's most recent and ongoing economic crisis, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups have risen from 65 cents to an astonishing 99 cents at the local Isla Vista Market. shit.

my munchie'$ saving tip of the day: instead of buying the traditional Reese's that come with 2 half-dollar sized candies for 99 cents, dip ur hand into the jar by the cashier's desk and buy a shit load of the little bite sized Reese's for 10 cents a piece. seriously, u get like twice the bargain.

Incognito (Part Deux)

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Nicholas Burke

I used to think that babies came out of the woman's butt... to my utter suprise, they don't. My name is Nicholas Francis Burke, but most people refer to me as just "Burke." Your thinking, "Wow Burke, I didn't realize that you have such a fucking lame middle name." Listen bitch, it so happens that Frank is short for Francis. Don't you remember a little guy named Francis (Frank) Sinatra? The guy fucking pioneered "panty dropping." Women most likely would have eaten a bowl of cereal out of that man's ass if he'd of let them. If that's not cool... I sure as hell don't know what is. Getting Lucky Charms eaten out of your ass by a pair of beautiful women... forget about it.


Anyways, I thoroughly enjoy freaking out about everything. It makes things that much more exciting. I also thrive in the fact that when someone is referring to meeting me they either call me "that dirty white guy" or "that goofy-dirty white guy." Apparently my long flowing blonde hair, looks greasy and unkempt. What the fuck!? I shower everyday... well almost everyday... every other day. The beautiful scents of my own natural musk is covered up by the numerous amount of cigarettes I suck down. Not to mention my recently pointed out love handles (thanks Russ) and my beer gut. You'd think attracting women would be nearly impossible for a specimen such as myself... wrong. I really don't know why, but it seems the more dirtball you are the more ass you can get. I mean, personally I have straight up smelled like stinky-sweaty testicles and have gotten laid without complaints. (You know that if you can smell your own odor than you really fucking stink) It's funny. Sorry, I keep distracting myself with my own ADD. So, besides loving to freak out and being a complete dirtbag, I enjoy hanging out with my fellow Extra Horny Gentlemen (I really don't enjoy it, but for the blog's sake... I do) while drinking dangerously large amounts of alchohol and creating drama. So funny. I also really like smoking cigarettes. Someone once asked me what I had planned on doing for the day, I simply responded with "I'm gunna sit around and smoke some cigarettes." I'm that guy that will probably have sex with your girlfriend if given the opportunity. I'm done with this post.

I hate you all, and thrive on how much I do. Remember Gentlemen, don't shower.

-Burke

Incognito

So, Nick and I have a plethora of outrageous stories to post from last night-- but you must wait for those.

Tonight, My roommate Michael is hosting a large scale annual Fundraiser event for the Queer Alliance.
There is an estimated guest list of 100+ attending.
The only catch is that this event is being held at our apartment!!!

My roommate, Webb jokingly suggested that I attend the party and go undercover in attempt to gauge my approximate worth in the gay community.

So of course I thought to myself, "what a fucking great idea!"

My goal of the night is to get pursued by as many gay men as possible.
This may seem cruel, but this is only so that I can evaluate how badly I am desired and lusted for in the eyes of other horny gay males.
My success will be measured in terms of how many compliments I receive and the amount of phone numbers I obtain.

My Hypothesis: I expect to be a hit at this event. Also, I'm sure I will cause an uproar of arousal among the other guests. I will be shocked if I don't get hit on by at least 5 gay guys.

I will update later with my results.

Tragedy

Dear Applicant,



Thank you for applying to the California Cryobank donor program.



We regret to inform you that your donor application has not been
accepted. There are a variety of reasons why an individual is not
accepted into our program, including external reasons beyond the scope
of your application, as well as capacity limitations. By policy of the
California Cryobank, we are unable to disclose to you the specific
reason(s) why your donor application was not accepted. We are
disappointed that we cannot accept your application at this time, but we
greatly appreciate your interest in our program.



We wish you the best of luck with your future endeavors.



Sincerely,





Ruth Diaz

Donor Coordinator



WHY GOD WHY!?!?!?
There is no Justice in this world!

My Sober Weekend

Ok so for the I believe 14th weekend in a row I have been sober. So like usual I am driving ppl all over. So I drive a lot of ppl to the party...again. we get there and there is a butt load of people, it was like one of those parties that when you open the door you can feel the heat rush at you. SO i was like Whoa there is a shit load of ppl here. Lots of people are very inebriated, one of the guys on my team has his pants off another one is dancing by himself on a table and some water polo dude is licking his teammates nipple...yea. So there is a girl from another team that I hooked up with like in September. since then she got a bf and he like bought her shit and was super nice to her and everything and didn't start having sex with her until a month in their relationship. ehehehehehe so when I hooked up with her we went to the bone yard the first night hehehehehe. Although I was very hammered and I couldn't get a full boner hehehehehe. But the next night I took her to the bone yard again. Yet once again a lil too drunk to get a fuller so I did what I could with a semi. Well I will get back to the party night. She sees me and tells my friend right next to me "I want Tommy tonight." Then she looked at me and gave me that look where a girl bites her lower lip in that really seductive manner. But I was like oh goodness she is really hammered. She kept coming up to me and was like "Tommy you need to take care of me." But I would keep making jokes that I had to take care of everyone because I am EMT certified. I end up driving her to the place she is gonna pass out and drop her off. When i get home I get some dirty text messages I LOL'ed and went to bed. Btw this girl is a good looking girl too, I mean I am sure anyone of us would take her to the bone yard. So it was funny because lately I haven't had much success with the ladies and i could have broken a pretty bad dry spell but ladies and gentlemen The Tomasarus has morals.

My First Visit to the Cryobank.

As many of you may know, I pride myself on being a man of philosophy. One of my golden rules in life: "Never give up on your Dreams." In my specific case, my dreams include visions of myself riding jet-skis up and down the Italian coast dressed in a tuxedo and throwing lavish cocktail parties aboard my yacht, The USS Sexxxy. There is only one thing that separates me from my dreams; about a billion dollars.

That being the case, I have dedicated a large portion of my life in attempting to make big money by the quickest and most convenient means possible. Surprising as it may sound, my schemes have all resulted in utter failure (ie betting on the Oscars)...UNTIL NOW!

A few weeks back I emailed a provisional application to the California Cryobank, and was later pre-approved a few days later.


So this morning, I made my first visit to the Cryobank; and it was an experience that I shall not soon forget. For those of you unaware of what exactly the Cryobank is-- let me educate you. Perhaps you have seen those ads for the Cryobank on the sidebars of your Facebook homepage (yeah, the ones that you never pay attention to). To put it simply, Cryobank is just a fancy name for sperm bank. If an individual passes a brief preliminary interview and fits a certain mold of criteria, they are eligible to donate their sperm for $100 a pop. Some basic requirements include that donors be in good health, must have a college degree (or be enrolled in college), and have no family history of serious illness. Incase you haven't already figured it out, I could be rich within months if I landed this job as a certified Sperm Donor.

Today I had an appointment to fill out some paperwork and give my first sperm sample. The professionals at the Cryobank will use my first sperm sample and test it to see if my sperm is good enough to use.

As fate would have it, The Cryobank was conveniently located within walking distance from my apartment (0.6 miles to be exact). At about 10:30am I left my apartment in search of the Cryobank. As I was walking down Gayley Ave. I noticed a small alleyway where the Cryobank was supposed to be. I walked down the narrow alleyway and finally saw the door which read "Cryobank". The door was locked and next to the door was an intercom. I pressed the button on the intercom and a woman calmly responded, "California Cryobank, How may I help you?"
I nervously replied, "I'm here for an 11:00am appointment". She made me verify my name and age and then buzzed me into the facility.

I was shocked at how clean the place was. I made my way to the waiting room. A sexy looking asian receptionist was pulling out my files as I walked up to the front desk. Her sultry voice and luscious lips lightly spoke the words, "Are you Russell?" This was starting to get a little uncomfortable. Since when are receptionists supposed to be this sexy? For a moment, I thought I was on the set of a Porn movie. I smoothly replied, "why yes I am." She stared blankly at me for a brief moment and then gave me some paperwork to fill out. The waiting room was filled with all kinds of snacks and Men's Health magazines. I quickly made myself at home and lounged in the waiting room while I filled out my paperwork. I was forced to tell a few white lies on my application (for ex. the minimum height requirement is 5'9, I'm 5'8. Also, my family doesn't exactly have a clean sheet of medical conditions like I said they did, hehe). I could not afford to let a few minuscule medical details stand in the way of my riches!

So after a few minutes it was finally showtime.
The sexy Asian receptionist handed me a cup for my sample and offered me some "visual aids."
To my surprise, this place was very legitimate. They offered me some DVDs. As I looked through the DVD collection, I was somewhat appalled at the grotesquely raunchy collection of pornography in their collection. "how the fuck do they expect me to wank off to this shit!?"
I finally found something that I could work with, College Invasion II (hehehe)
I was then escorted to the rooms. By the looks of it, I think each room had a different theme. I walked into the room and the first thing i noticed was that the walls had been covered with pictures of elegant naked ladies from the 60s and 70s. The room was extremely small. There was a sink, an absurd amount of paper towels, a small plasma TV, and some wrinkled up porn magazines with many pages suspiciously stuck together. I sat down and about 30 seconds later, I realized it was time for the Money Shot (get it?). "uh oh, how the fuck am I going to aim my jizz into this fucking tiny little cup!?" I successfully managed to get an embarrassingly mediocre sized load into the cup, but I quickly realized that I had made a large mess around the outside of the cup. I spent about 10 seconds laughing, and then another 30 seconds cleaning up my mess.

As I walked back to the receptionist with sperm in hand, the sight that lay before me was one that I will never forget. Some fucking tall scrawny goofball was flirting with the receptionist while juggling his cup of jizz in one hand ever so casually. "what the fuck is wrong with these people..?" I quietly thought to myself. I turned in my sample and the receptionist questioned whether or not I had obeyed the No-ejaculation-for-3-days rule. I reassured her that I had, and she proceeded to reexamine my sperm sample. I awkwardly stood there trying to not make eye contact with the tall creep tossing around his sperm, and the sexy asian woman belittling me and my excrement. "Alright, well we will contact you in 5-7 days to see if your sperm qualifies for donation." I quickly said "thank you" and got the fuck out of there as fast as I could.

I'm praying that my sperm sample is blessed, so that I can be one step closer to joy riding those jet-skis.

Now I play the waiting game...

Bloody Term Paper

After weeks of stress and preparation, the due date of my term paper for Chicana studies was finally upon me. I skateboarded proudly to class with my finished text in one hand and a Primetime mini-cigar in the other. "What a nice fucking day", I thought to myself, "so sunny and calm", at which point I went down, HARD. After a couple of seconds of rolling and sliding on the concrete, I looked up to see a crowd of people giggling at me. You know, the awkward post-injury but kind-of-funny without trying to make the person who fell feel embarassed laugh. I don't know what caused me to fall. But, I simply stood up, shook it off, and took a proud bow. Then, like all post-fall skaters, I casually scanned the ground for any small object (stick, rock, pot-hole) that would have caused me to go down. There was nothing, "Fucking phantom object!" Yet, to my surprise, the Primetime mini-cigar had stayed lit and entact. "Stoked".

Anyway, given the intensity of the moment, I didn't realize how much my palms and knuckles were bleeding. huhuhuhu, huhuh. My cover page was covered in blood, lol. "Fuck!" I didn't have time to go home and print out another one; late papers were not accepted. I was forced to rip off the cover page, it was just too gnarly. But there was still a little blood on the introduction as well as the first body paragraph. I reluctantly turned it in, hoping it was obvious to my TA that I had put my blood, sweat and tears into this one.

For my introductory bio as a member of the League of Extra Horny Gentlemen: I'm just a humble 3rd-year college student that's eager to start his carreer, living amongst the other "four-year tourists" here at the beautiful UC Santa Barbara. All I need are some huge waves, catholic sheilas, and some beetz on my burger.

Mustache March

The sun was shining and the songbirds were singing this beautiful Sunday morning. The girls were trading in their peacoats for bikinis and the boys were dusting off their board shorts in the 80 degree Los Angeles weather. For this Sunday marked the first day of March. The Month of March signifies the changing of the seasons and more importantly marks the closing of the grueling winter quarter. There are many things for students to look forward to in March: Spring Break, March Madness ("the Second Christmas", as some of my friends commonly refer to it), and most importantly, Mustache March!

Over the last few years, this phenomena has taken over College campuses across America by storm. My first memories of Mustache March were during the 2006 NCAA Basketball Tournament. I give one man most (if not all) of the credit for making 'Mustache March' what it is today.
Fellow Extra Horny Gentleman, Adam Morrison (pictured on the left) is an individual whose accomplishments have gone unnoticed after his humiliating antics during the 2006 NCAA Basketball Tournament (Breaking down into tears after a brutal defeat by UCLA).
Mr. Morrison does not get the recognition he deserves for pioneering one of the greatest college movements in all of history.









In Commemoration of Mustache March, I have posted a montage from one of our very own members. Mr. Jaypee Hayes.

I Love College

I have had this goddamn song stuck in my head all day...

Jake

As for my introduction, My name is Jake and currently live in Huntington Beach, California. I am the younger brother of Nick, and am the youngest member of the league. As for my older brother Nick, I am better than him in every which way, hence the self-proclaimed Burke 2.0. I am better looking than him, cleaner than him, taller than him, and I have more hair on my head. Also, I don't grow a Spencer Pratt flesh-colored beard. But enough about that, and more about me. I have become quite infamous for a "bladder" problem that happened on new years two years ago. All I have to say is that it was New Years, and I have one question to ask, "Have you ever been that drunk?" If you haven't pissed yourself, then you haven't been that drunk. You can usually catch me playing Xbox live under the name PopePeabody (refer back to New Years), or watching a "legally" burned movie. I will add one more thing about Nick and I, when you get us together, 300 high fives is a must. I look forward to reading and posting some more outrageous exploits of the League of Extra Horny Gentlemen.

P.S. Today is the first official day of Mustache March.

Ru$$

Bonjour,

My name is Russell and I am currently residing in Los Angeles, California.
I'm 20 years young and still riding my father's coattails while I attend college here at UCLA. I am a man of simple taste, I also enjoy the finer things in life. Some of my many interests include: Samba Dancing, French (the language of love), FIFA, Looking Fly, Pumping Iron, LOST, Chipotle, UCLA Basketball, Smoothies, Wealth, Luxury & Women. Some would say I am a little "old fashioned." I still believe in chivalry and being a gentleman. I will always pull the chair out and open the doors for my ladies. In my travels, I have come across many things peculiar, spine-tingling, freaky, outrageous, and just outright funny. I am excited for our fans to embark on this journey.

Au Revoir