bigpimpinmba's Diaryland Diary

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I had such a good time on my internet date that I shit myself

This is a long one, but it�s been a week, so suck it up and read it.

Soooo�.

I had my first internet date this weekend.

My obvious stalker, NoGoodDaddy had said in his entry on Friday that he was going to go down to Point Pleasant to go to the aquarium on Sunday with his family. As if this wasn�t a come on enough, after I mentioned in passing that I might be able to finagle heading �Down the Shore� (It�s a Jersey thing, not a typo) to go check out some fish in some tanks, since my boy is a pretty big fan of that kind of stuff.

Next thing I know, I�m getting e-mails from Mr. Daddy, throwing his real name and phone number at me along with promises of porn, touting care packages that he has recently sent to other, Big, Gay Stalking Victims .

Well, after a lot of begging and scare tactics on his part, I relented to meeting with Mr. Daddy and his lil� family.

(My wife had previous plans with her side of the family, so she was not going to be able to join me to meet my newfound friend, NoGoodDaddy, so it would just be the Pimp toting his little rugrats all by his lonesome self. Go ahead and bow down to the PimpDaddy.)

Well, if you�re looking for reality, you would probably be better served to read the details of our encounter in NoGoodDaddy I think that something a lot closer to a recollection of the actual events would be able to be found there.

Including my awful comment to his daughter of �Well, you�re just as cute as the picture of you that I saw on the internet.�

I know. Could I be any more creepy? It sounds like I was meeting my Mail Order Bride (or in this case, child) for the first time.

And this was only about 138 seconds after I had met Mr Daddy and his wife and child�. Real smooth, Pimp. Real smooth.

Well, my wife has never been exactly sure what the hell I�m doing having a blog in the first place�..
Do I have some sort of psychological problem that I�m working out on the internet?
Am I trying to pick up other sociopaths on D-Land?
Truth is, I�m not even sure what the hell I�m doing here, but apparently a few of you seem to like to at least follow along and make fun of me along the way�

Well, let�s just say, that she was having quite a bit of fun with me and my internet �lover�. She already had me playing the part of Marcelles Wallace, with NoGoodDaddy playing the part of the Gimp.

I had an equal amount of fun right back by telling her that she was driving me into the arms of another man. (Even though it�s not his name, let�s just say that NoGood�s name is really Chester) I had lots more fun by saying to my wife any time that she said something contradicting me that �Chester wouldn�t say that� or �At least Chester respects me.�

Good times.

I have to hand it to my new friend, Chester, when my wife called to see how things were� He told me to just give him the phone� And I was game�.

He answered the phone: �I have your husband and your children will fetch a hefty price on the black market.�

This got my wife rolling in hysterics.

As I said earlier, I�ll let you check out Chester�s site to find out the real details of the date, because her really covered it all quite well enough. But, I�ll relay some details in picture

The lil� tykes wanted to go on a few rides, so we took them over to the rides and each applied for second mortgages on our homes to afford to put the kids on the spinning carnival rides of doom.

Well, it turns out that Chester�s little girl, Schmuppie and Little Pimp are too small to go on the flying elephant ride by themselves by about an inch each. The ride Nazi was not bending the rules, even for our ridiculously cute kids, who only wanted to get some alone time on the ride, away from the parents. No dice.

So, Chester rode the cheap Dumbo knock-off with his little Schmuppie and I figure I can climb aboard with Little Pimp and hold Little Girl on my lap.

Not so fast. Only two per bloated, big eared packaderm. My daughter is 11 months old. And something like 20 pounds. I�m sure if Fat Sal wanted to climb on with his kid, even though he�s packing 350 and is hiding 20 pounds of cheesesteak hoagies under his shirt, they�ll let him on without much question. But this is the RideNazi that we are talking to here. And my little girl is obviously going to throw off the whole balance for a ride that goes all of 4 miles per hour and gets an entire 4 feet 3 inches off the ground.

Chester�s wife, JewelrySlut (He calls her that, not me), being the saint that she obviously is, offers to step up and go on the ride with Little Pimp and a crisis is averted. (Some might wonder why I didn�t just hand off Little Girl and hop on, but you wouldn�t say that if you knew Little Girl�s temper when she is not being held by Mommy or Daddy. JackJack ain�t got nothing on my Little Girl.

Oh, and the kicker, they charged full ticket price for each adult that they made get on the ride that the adults were sooo anxious to be spun around on�.

Well, here is the photographic proof that a meeting did, in fact take place.

Image Hosted by The Image Hosting

I know what you are all thinking by looking at this picture� A little disturbing, right? Well, you would be right. But, Chester�s much more cuddly and only slightly less creepy once you get to know him.

Image Hosted by The Image Hosting

The redeeming quality of Mr. Daddy was JewelrySlut, his wife, who is obviously the sane one in this union. She kicks ass for taking care of my boy for me.

Anyway, I really did enjoy hanging out with Chester and his wife, but after the run of bad luck I had on that fateful day, I think it�s a little to close to say whether I can bring myself to get together any time soon.

What bad luck, you�re asking?

Well, I�ll tell you�.

Before I left, my wife specifically told me that my daughter�s shoes have a tendency to fall off and that if I had her in the front of the stroller, she may kick them off. By the time I met up with the Chesters, you can imagine what happens�

I was mugged.

I kid. I kid.

Of course, she lost her shoe. And finding shoes to fit my little BabyGirl�s fat feet is not easy. So I already know that a beatdown from my wife is forthcoming.

Next up� parking.

The fine government of Point Pleasant have decided that a fair price for parking is the very reasonable 12 minutes for 25 cents. Because EVERYONE has rolls of quarters in their cars if they plan on staying for any real length of time. And since it was a really nice day at the shore, there were lots of people with the same idea that Chester and I had, so I had to park a good distance away.

I only had quarters enough for a little more than two and a half hours (That would be 13 quarters), figuring that, even if I ran out of time, it�s not like the meterNazis would be standing there waiting to give me a ticket as time ran out.

Yeah right.

Well, we obviously went over the amount of time that my reserve of quarters allowed (and I knew it). I have two kids and probably � of a mile to walk to �feed the meter�, which the bastards of Point Pleasant obviously are banking on.

Of course I get a ticket. And not a nice, $25 one, like I was expecting from older parking tickets that I�ve gotten in the past.

Four. T. Eight. United. States. Of. American. Dollars.

Thank you very much, meterNazis. It really pisses me off that I even put any quarters into the meters. Couldn�t the at least subtract that from the ticket? Grrr�

Now for strike three� (WARNING. THIS IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART)

Anyway, after we parted ways with the whole NoGoodClan, I went back to my car, found the ticket and shook my fist in the general direction of where I thought the Point Pleasant municipal building would be and headed back across the state to good ol� Hamilton.

About 15 minutes into my 45-minute journey, I realized that I�m starting to have some quite uncomfortable abdominal pains. I figure this as good a time as any to loosen the ol� belt and unbutton the ol� jeans, while squirming in my seat and trying not to fart because you can never be sure what you�re going to get in those situations.

And the minivan is a lease.

And those stains never REALLY come out entirely.

I make it home while brown capping the entire way and make it into the house with the kids, drop them into the family and head straight for the throne, which gets treated to the equivalent of throwing a bottle of Yoo Hoo into the ceiling fan. (I can�t take credit for the Yoo Hoo joke� I ripped it off from Anthony of Opie and Anthony fame)

After I get done with that end of things, I realize that I�d better tidy up and flush quick because I�m going to be quickly turning around and put my face where the ol� dumper just was.

Fantastic.

I�m on the floor in a cold sweat and my daughter comes crawling in to gloat at my misfortune.

What a glamorous life I lead.

Now, my wife is not home and is not expected for another 2 hours and I don�t have anyone within an hour that I can call at this point. It�s me and the kids for two hours minimum.

And my gastrointestinal tract is exacting a revenge on my for my years of mistreatment and abuse all in one fell swoop.

I�m having a hard time standing up straight and I�ve got nobody to help me anywhere nearby and I�ve got an 11-month old and 3 year old who need to be fed and taken care of.

I somehow manage to throw my BabyGirl into the high chair and make some grilled cheese for them, breaking the sandwich into small pieces and tossing them up onto the high chair tray I�m laying on the floor because I�m so weak from the cookie tossing and Yoo Hoo ceremony that I just participated in) like I�m feeding ducks at the park.

Now, even though I feel like a raped taint, at least I can have somewhat of a sense of humor, however diminished it may be at this point.

(Our niece is going to Temple University for performing arts, specifically opera vocals. So, my wife was going with the rest of the family to see her in an Opera that she was performing in while this is all going on.)

In my head, all I can think of is that when Coppola makes the movie of my life, it will look like the scene at the end of Godfather I, when Michael ordered the series of hits while he attended the baptism. The director would cut from each heave and hurl of mine to my wife calmly taking in the Opera.

Needless to say, it is still a little to close to the events for me to say whether I would like to get back together with Chester or not.

On to the music trivia

Medium Difficulty
Picowaves (Gotta tune in)
PCBs (Gotta tune out)
Market Crash (Gotta tune in)
Polar Shift (Gotta tune out)
Narrow Minds (Gotta tune in)
Space Junk (Gotta tune out)
Bombs (Gotta tune in)
Atomic Lasers Falling from the Sky (Gotta tune out)
Where�s my umbrella (Gotta tune in)

Medium-Easy
My friends told me I was lucky to have a girl like you�.
Cause all the girls I ever had, their love was never true (Their love was never true)
But, you have brought me happiness I will treasure the day we first met
Never ever gonna let you go
Because I love you so

Next entry: The aftermath of the PimpHousehold.

Have a great weekend and thanks for hanging in there!

3:32 p.m. - 2005-04-22

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