The Hockey game:

That guy who barged to the front of the 200+ person line to get in and walked through the gates without even a ticket, yelling something about having his own will call booth in the ladies room...that was me.

That guy who took nachos from the girls in front of him, telling them "You should feel honored that someone as important as me will even eat after you"...that was me.

That guy who, when his friend said "Oh! Catfight!," responded with, "No dude, there aren't anymore cats; they just ate dinner"...that was me.

That guy who peed in an empty water bottle and, after using it to warm his hands, threw it on the ice...that was me.

The football game:

That guy tail-gating with people he didn't know and feeding beers to the ridiculous Cal bear mascot through a tube in his eye...that was me.

That guy who snuck a Camelbak full of vodka into the stadium by using a three-year old child to hide it...that was me.

That guy screaming at the top of his lungs, threatening to rape and dismember the families of the Stanford football players...that was both me and my buddy DrunkRex.

That guy being escorted out of his seat by four cops in the FIRST quarter...that was just me.

That guy arguing with those same campus cops, giving them a mini-lecture on the finer points of probable cause, defying them to try to illegally search him and threatening a six-figure civil suit if they touched him...that was me.

That guy calling the Head of Campus Security "Lord of The Plastic Badge Boob Squad," and telling the other students at the security check point to not answer questions or produce ID because fake cops can't do anything to you except throw you out of the game if you don't cooperate...that was me.

That guy being immediately escorted out of the stadium after saying this...that was me.

That guy who was stumbling drunk taking pictures with random people who recognized him from a website right outside the stadium and in front of the cops who threw him out...that was me.

That guy who ended up watching the game from Cheapskate Hill (a huge mountain behind the stadium where you can get views of the game that are obstructed by trees), and stealing peoples beers because he already lost his wallet...that was me.

That guy who was yelling at the guy who was in AA and four months sober that "rehab was for pussy-ass quitters," and that "it's only alcoholism if you drink alone," and to "act like a fucking man and get off that pussy-ass wagon"...that was me.

That guy who ten minutes later was shot-gunning beers with the formerly four-month sober ex-member of AA, in front of his terrified sponsor...that was me.

That guy who convinced three Japanese girls he was a rich, single doctor with an Asian fetish so that they would give him their sandwich...that was me.

That guy who threw that same sandwich at a dog in front of those girls when he realised it was Tabouli...that was me.

That guy who ran out of beer, and in order to get more convinced two gay guys that was he a former Marine who left the service because he hated George Bush and didn't want to go to war...that was me.

That guy who, after drinking 4 of their beers, yelled at those same gay guys "I LIED YOU FUCKERS! WHEN I GET BACK TO IRAQ, I'M GOING TO KILL AN EXTRA BABY FOR EACH OF YOU!!"...that was me.

That guy who tried to go directly down Cheapskate Hill instead of walking the long way around, and ended up tumbling the last 50 feet down the hill like he was Cary Elwes in The Princess Bride...that was me.

That guy who was so dirty and filthy and disheveled and bleeding at the bottom that a random old lady in a wheelchair and her granddaughter who was pushing her stopped to help him clean off...that was me.

That guy who fell asleep in the vestibule in the Haas B-school waiting for his friends to come out of the game (who were busy storming the field after Cal won)...that was me.

That guy who looked so pathetic and dirty while sleeping in that vestibule that a homeless guy rooting through the trash for cans came over and TOLD HIM WHERE THE LOCAL SHELTER WAS AND GAVE HIM DIRECTIONS HOW TO GET THERE...that was me.

That guy who had to borrow a phone from a traffic cop, who was busy directing cars, to call DrunkRex because he lost his cell at some undetermined point during the day...that was me.

That guy standing on the corner of the stadium looking for his buddy DrunkRex, who had four guys walk up and say, "Killa? Dude, what happened to you?"...that was me.

That guy who, while walking to meet his friends, took a beer from someone's cooler and had to run away when several people started screaming at him...that was me.

That guy at Raleigh's (a Berkeley bar) eating chicken nachos with his hands and caking his mouth in guacamole to the point where the bartender asked him to please wipe his face because other customers were getting sick...that was me.

That guy at Raleigh's kicking the port-a-potty out back and yelling at the girl inside to hurry up because "Bitch, there is a celebrity out here who needs to piss!"...that was me.

That guy who had to resort to peeing in the alley because the bitch in the port-a-potty decided she was going to stay in there all night because the "fake fucking celebrity" was rude...that was me.

That guy who almost got his ass beat by a crazy cracked out homeless person because he accidentally pissed on his "house"....that was me.

That guy who started the "Take off that red shirt" chant in the middle of the patio and forced some dude to take his red fleece off and stand there in 50 degree weather for an hour, even though he had nothing on underneath...that was actually my buddy DrunkRex. I could care less about the Stanford/Cal rivalry.

That guy who told DrunkRex about the hot Asian girl who came out to meet him, "Find out if she is fucking. If not, get her out of here. We can't be having this 'I just wanted to meet him' shit."...that was me.

That guy who tried to pick up a girl by walking up and saying, "I have never hit a woman in my life, mainly because I am afraid I would like it too much and not want to stop"...that was me.

That guy getting kicked out of the bar after that girl told a bouncer I threatened to hit her...that was me.

That guy at In-n-Out eating three double-doubles and spilling sauce all over his shirt while yelling that the place was a cult and that the employees could read his mind...that was me.

And finally, the asshole who ended up typing this out as he watched SportsCenter alone at 430am that night because he doesn't even have the patience to talk to a girl for more than 5 minutes...yeah, that IS me.

I spent the summer between my 3rd and 4th year of highschool suckling on the parental teat in New Jersy. It was the absolute prime of my "do anything to get laid" phase. I was recently freed from a 2-year long-distance relationship that began in high school and I wanted nothing more than to have sex with as many girls as possible.

Anyway, while most of my stories may not be extraordinary for me, there is one very notable exception...

I was seeing one girl, "Jaime," about twice a week. She was a fresh arrival to Jersey, having moved there 5 months ago from upstate New York as a 19 year old with a modeling contract. We met through a mutual friend who befriended her while they were shooting a TV commercial. Five weeks and lots of sex later, she thought we were dating. I knew better, but she was way too hot to bother correcting her assumption.

The ex-girlfriend of 2-years I previously spoke about was very sexually conservative. It was missionary in the dark and then straight to sleep, with maybe a blowjob on the weekends if she'd had a few glasses of wine with dinner (it was a high school relationship, I didn't know any better). After four years of this, I was ready to experience all the things I'd missed out on (when I wasn't cheating on her, of course).

Buttsex, known in the biz as "anal," was one of these unknowns, and I decided that I wanted to try it. Jaime was the perfect partner: very hot and very sweet, and more importantly, very naïve and very open to suggestion.

She was reluctant at first, not understanding why we just couldn't keep having normal sex, so I had to employ my persuasive powers:

Jaime "But...I've never done it."
Killa "I've never done it either; it can be our thing."

Jaime "But...I don't know if I'll like it."
Killa "You won't have to worry about getting pregnant."

Jaime "But...I like normal sex."
Killa "Everyone's doing anal. It's the new black."

Jaime "But...I don't know...it seems weird."
Killa "It's the preferred method in Europe. Especially with the runway models. Don't you want to do runways in Europe?"

After a few weeks of this, she finally consented. Though she agreed to let me put my penis in her small hole, she extracted a promise in return:

"OK, we can try anal sex, but I want it to be special and romantic. You have to take me out to a nice place, like The Manor or NY's Primes, NOT one of your parent's restaurants, and it has to be a weekend night, NOT a Monday. And you have to keep taking me out on weekends. I'm tired of being your Monday night girl."

I made reservations for the next Friday at The Manor. Aside from being insanely expensive, The Manor is famous for having grass floors. Really; they put in new sod every week. They also advertise their food as "aphrodisiac cuisine." Yes, at that point in my life, I thought these things worked.

Thanks to my father's connections, I got us a corner booth in the grass room. She was quite impressed. I ordered like it was the Last Supper. No expense was spared. Two $110 bottles of merlot, veal rack, stone crabs, the Tantra Love platter--it was lavish and decadent. I was 21, stupid, and wanted to fuck Jaime in the butt; I wasn't about to let a $400 tab get in my way.

By the time we left The Manor, this girl had doe eyes that made Bambi look like a heroin-chic CK model. She could not have been more in love with me. The entire drive back to my place she was rubbing my crotch, telling me how badly she wanted to me to fuck her, how hot I made her, etc, etc. We get back to my place and our clothes are off before we even get in the door. We collapse on the bed and start fucking. Normal vaginal sex at first, just like always.

Now, what she did not know, and what I have not told you yet, was that I had a surprise waiting for her.

[Aside: Before I tell you what the surprise was, let me make this clear: As I stand right now, 25 as of this writing, I am a bad person. At 17, I was possibly the worst person in existence. I had no regard for the feelings of others, I was narcissistic and self-absorbed to the point of psychotic delusion, and I saw other people only as a means to my happiness and not as humans worthy of respect and consideration. I have no excuse for what I did; it was wrong and I regret it. Even though I normally revel in my outlandish behavior, sometimes even I cross the line, and this is one of those situations....but of course, I'm still going to write about it.]

This was going to be my first time foraging in the ass forest, and I wanted to have a reminder of my trip, a memento I could carry with me the rest of my life...so I decided to film us.

I planned this beforehand, but I was afraid she would decline, so instead of being mature and discussing this with Jaime, I just made the executive decision to get it on camera...without telling her.

That alone is pretty bad. But instead of just setting up a hidden camera...I got my friend to hide in my closet and film it.

No really--I know that I will burn in hell. At this point, I'm just hoping that my life can serve as a warning to others.

I left my door unlocked and we arranged it so that around midnight my friend would go over to my place and wait until my car pulled in, and then run into the closet and get the camera ready. The top half of the closet door was a French shutter, so it was easy to move the slats and give him a decent camera shot through the closed door.

By the time Jaime and I got to the bed, I was so drunk I had forgotten that he was filming this, and of course she had no idea he was there. After a few minutes of standard sex, she kinda stopped and said, all serious and in her best seductive soap opera voice, "I'm ready."

I quickly flipped her over and grabbed the brand new bottle of AstroGlide I had on my bedside table.

A week prior, after Jaime consented to buttsex, I realized that I didn't have any idea how to do it. How exactly do you fuck a girl in the ass? Luckily, I had the world's best anal sex informational resource at my disposal: The gay waiter. I consulted several gay waiters who worked at one of my parents restaurants about the mechanics of buttsex, and each one recommended AstroGlide as the lubricant of choice. Much to my dismay, I learned that spitting on your dick is not enough lube for buttsex. Stupid, lying porn movies.

The other important piece of advice I remembered was from Calvin, "Make sure you use enough, because if this is her first time, she'll be especially tight, and it might hurt her. Use enough to really loosen her up and go slow until she gets used to it. Then it's smooth sailing from there."

Well, since some is good, more is better, right? At 17, this seemed logical.

I opened the cap, crammed the bottle top into her asshole, and squeezed. I probably emptied half of the 4-ounces of AstroGlide into her. I have since learned from homosexuals that a 4-ounce bottle usually lasts them about 6 months. So yeah--I overdid it.

But Killa wasn't done. Oh no, after depositing enough grease in her to run a Formula One racecar, I dumped half of what remained onto my cock and balls, really wanting to lube up because I didn't want her to be uncomfortable.

Really--consider my thought process: I was going to fuck her in the butt and film it without her consent, yet I was truly concerned about her personal comfort. Sometimes the contradictions in my personality even amuse me.

Predictably, I slid in with ease. She was a little tense at first, but with an Exxon Valdez size load spilled into her poop chute, she quickly loosened up and got into it. I liked it also; it had a different feel to it. Not as good as vaginal sex, a little grainy, kinda tight, but still very nice.

Before I knew it I was fucking her like the apocalypse was imminent, burying it to the hilt with impunity. After a few minutes I was ready to come. My urgency was expressed in my tempo, and I began really jackhammering her. As the excitement got the best of me, I pulled out too far and my dick came out of her ass. I kinda scrambled to grab my dick and put it back in so I could finish off inside of her, but before I could even get a hold of it and put it back in her ass, I heard a faint "psssst" sound and felt something wet and warm hit my crotch.

It was dark in the room (I was not smart or sober enough to leave the lights on for the camera), so after I looked down it took me a few seconds to realize that my dick, balls and groin area were covered in a viscous black liquid. I stopped moving and stared at my strangely colored crotch for a good 5 seconds, completely confused, until I realized what happened:

"Did you...did you just...shit on my dick??"

I reached down to touch the liquid feces, still in complete and utter disbelief that this girl shot explosive diarrhea on my penis, when, without warning, the smell hit me.

I have a very sensitive nose, and I have never been more repulsed by a smell in my life. The combination of synthetic AstroGlide and rancid stench of raw fecal matter combined to turn my stomach, which was full of seafood, veal and wine, completely over.

I tried to hold it back. I really did everything I could to stop myself, but there are certain physical reactions that are beyond conscious control. Before I knew what I was doing, it just came out:

"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"

I vomited all over her ass. Into her crack. Into her asshole. On her ass cheeks. On the small of her back. Everywhere.

She turned her head, said, "Killa, what are you doing?," saw me vomiting on her, screamed "Oh my God!," and immediately joined me:

"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"

Watching her throw up on my bed made me vomit even more. Her vomiting all over my bed, me vomiting on her ass, the next step was almost inevitable.

I heard the loud CRASH first, turned to see my friend break through the shutters and rip the closet door off as he, the video camera, and the door tumbled out of the closet and crashed onto the floor next to us:

"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"

The memory of the 2-second span where all three of us were vomiting at once is permanently seared into my brain. I have never heard anything like that symphony of sickness. It was like something out of the old Pink Panther movies.

I think the crowning moment was when my eyes locked with Jaime's, I saw her moment of realization and then her quick shift from shock and surprise to complete and irreparable anger. Between bouts of hurling she flipped out:

"OH MY GOD--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--YOU FILMED THIS, YOU ASSHOLE-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH-- HOW COULD YOU-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--OH MY GOD-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I LET YOU FUCK ME IN THE ASS--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH."

She tried to stand up, slipped on the huge puddle of backflow AstroGlide on the bed, and fell into both my pile and her pile of vomit, covering her body and hair in vomit, shit and anal lubricant. She flailed on the bed for a second, grabbed the top sheet, wrapped it around her, and started running out of my place. Still naked and retching, my dick covered in shit and oil, I followed her as far as my front door.

The last contact I ever had with her is the image I witnessed of her in a dead sprint, a shit, vomit and grease stained sheet stuck to her body, running from my apartment.

POST-SCRIPT:

The camera we used was one of those old fragile ones that filmed onto a VHS tape, and when he crashed out of the closet, the tape recorder and tape broke. It didn't occur to us at that the tape records the images magnetically, and we could take the actual tape itself and get someone to put it in another holster until after we had thrown it out. I know it seems stupid now, and believe me I kick myself about it everyday, but you should have seen the apartment afterwards--the tape was not a high priority. AstroGlide, shit and vomit covered EVERYTHING.

I had to rent one of those steam cleaners, buy a new mattress, and I STILL lost my deposit. It was impossible to get the smell out. The next month was like living in a sewer. Every girl I brought back to my place after that refused to stay there, and some even refused to sleep with me anywhere because of how my place smelled.

What I never found out, and I still want to know, is how the girl got home. I never heard from her again, and the mutual friend who introduced us called her but didn't get her calls returned. I never heard anything about her or from her again, even though she left her clothes and ID at my place (she wore a tight dress out that night, and didn't bring a purse or any money with her).

Can you picture that scene? What did she do, hop in taxi? Wave down a passing car? Get on the bus? She lived at least 30 miles away, there is no way she walked home. It perplexes me to this day.

BAD NEWS: Big Media companies are planning to dismantle the internet as we know it. Think this is a joke? Think again.

AT&T and Bell South are planning a multi-billion dollar deal that will END Net Neutrality - The principle the internet was founded on. What does this mean? It means that large corporations will be in control of everything you see and do online. THEY will decide which web pages load and how fast. They'll control what you can view and what you can't.

The coolest thing about the net is that ANYONE can become a celebrity or spread
a message. You can start a YouTube video or a blog and reach millions of people
without spending a cent! This SCARES big corporations. So AT&T and Bell South
are planning a merger that will allow them to control which websites internet
users can see and how fast websites will load.

How can they do this? By killing net neutrality - the principle
that all sites should be treated equally. Without net neutrality Media companies
can slow down or cut off sites that don't pay them large sums of money.
Independent Media companies and individuals won't be able to compete.
Which means that the internet will become like television - If you don't have
money, you can't get a channel.

The REALLY bad news: Time is running out - The FCC is considering the case RIGHT NOW and they are planning to rubber stamp it unless there is huge public outcry.


WHAT YOU CAN DO:

1. Repost this message! - (Only takes three mouse clicks!) Word-of-Net lets us reach hundreds of thousands of people online. Use it to fight Big Media while we still can!


2.Go to SaveTheInternet.com - Sign their petition,
learn about the issue, and tell your friends.

Learn more about the current FCC Scandal here

Steve Killen, aka Killa, aka MeG@$t@R

website coming soon!