The night the bouncer kicked my ass!

Clubs,Sex,Times I Almost Died | Wednesday April 15 2009 11:59 pm | Comments (0) Tags: , ,

I frequent a bar in Fort Lauderdale almost 4 days a week. I have had sex with all of the bartenders, the shot girls, and the door girls. Well, all of them except one, but I am working on closing that daily. Not to go off topic but she is the only girl I’ve ever had completely naked bent over her own bed staring at her mirror and wouldn’t let me do a single thing but kiss her. FUCKING BITCH!

Anyway, my escapades at this bar were getting to be a bit too much, I would generally bring in a stripper, porn star, or just run of the mill friend. I would sometimes bring in my buddies and we would act like total fools while drinking our ¼ priced bottles (because I am such a good customer). Anyway, the bouncers got a little sick of how well I was treated and that before the end of the night I was generally doing one of the employees in the club and going home with another when it closed.

One night God decided to transpire against me and cast a huge black cloud over my heaven of vagina and alcohol. The night began like usual but this time I was drunk before I even got to the bar. I was with more than one girl so I didn’t bother giving much attention to the girls that worked at the bar. What’s more is that I knew the one that I haven’t had sex with was in an extra bitchy mood that night, so I stayed away. I don’t know the exact point at which I realized my world had ended, but I think it was around the time that the bill arrived. The bill was $1,200 instead of my usual $300 or so. I asked the waitress (let’s call her Jessica) why my bill was so high. Her words will forever reign down in my mind

“Because you fucked every girl here including me and you’re a complete asshole for doing so.”

This was foresight to the fact that I had never realized that the one girl I didn’t sleep with would tell everyone that I had slept with her.  At which point, I guess they whipped out their note pads and started to compare lists. When they realized I had run the same game on every single one of them, all at the same time, under their very own noses, in their very own place of employment, my reign of pussy king was over!

That being said I refused to pay! At this point, a few rather large bouncers (which were obviously monsters compared to my small stature) asked me to pay my bill. Once again I declined and asked to speak to the owner, who I thought was my friend. The owner was, of course ,unavailable. I was then told I would be taken outside to the police if I did not pay. That was a risk I was willing to take in my inebriated state. “Take me outside” I said; at which time the bouncer informed me that if he took me outside he was going to drag me out and “fuck me up.”

So what do I do? I give him the finger and tell him to “fuck me up.” Not so shockingly that’s exactly what he did, FUCKED ME UP! He and his buddies tossed me around like a rag doll inside the club and punted me out of the front doors like I was a football! Now I’m outside bleeding and the pain still doesn’t stop, I’m getting hit from all sides. Surely the cops will break it up! Nope, they joined in and I ended up in handcuffs in the back seat of a cop car. The cops gave me two options: pay my bill and go home or don’t pay my bill and go to jail. They didn’t care that I was 5’8″ tall, 160 lbs, and had just gotten beaten up by a 6’3″ 250 pound monster number one and 6’3″ 250 pound monster number 2 in addition to a few nice shots from the boys in blue themselves. So what did I do?……… I paid the damn bill and signed it the way I sign everything: a scribble. The cop let me out of the cuffs and gave the bill to the bouncer who tossed it on the floor and said it wasn’t my real signature. I was taken down again HARD by the police and handcuffed. It was only after they checked my ID and saw that it was my actually signature that they let me go.

Now fast forward an hour or more later to around 4:00 a.m., (after I went to a different club to nurse my wounds with liquor) My fav bartender (the one who I had never fucked and who started the whole thing) called me to see if I was okay. She expressed her apologies and asked if I wanted to come over. I sensed another setup but as usual I was too drunk and too horny to care. I cabbed it to her house and went inside. She was wearing one of the sexiest outfits I had ever seen and my jaw dropped to the floor. I carried her up to the steps (or maybe she walked and I crawled up due to the alcohol) and took care of business in her hallway before we could even reach the bed. Only later did I find out that she had set the whole thing up so that I wouldn’t couldn’t have sex with her friends anymore, thus keeping me all to herself (yeah right).

I am still waiting for the perfect moment to get her back. Perhaps one day I will share a sex video of her and I while I make her say and do some things that would make even the most professional dirtiest porn star blush. Oh lets not forget when I got to the office the next day to share my story with a coworker. I mentioned to him that my arm and ribs hurt like hell. I lifted up my shirt and to my surprise I had the bruise of a shoe print on my arm and what looked to be several knuckle bruises on my ribs!

The moral of the story, take what you can and who you can but expect that one day it may all come crashing down, and when it does, you may as well just pay your bill unless you’re stupid like me andor have a blog to share the story on.

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The Day Tuna Almost Died

This story does not involve women or anything particularly wild, but it’s a story I was just thinking about today when talking with my old friend/boss who we called Tuna. Tuna is the guy who taught me everything I know in the car business. I sat next to him from the day I started to the day he left which was around a year total. Monday through Saturday 9:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. I was with Tuna, and on Sundays I was with his family for Sunday football BBQ. Tuna grew to be sort of like a father or big brother to me and the day he decided to leave literally shook me up more then I could have imagined. Tuna was known as a real serious guy but he couldn’t help becoming a jokester around me. I really don’t think anyone can help acting like a complete fool around me because I just bring the fun out in people.

This is almost a story of the boy who cried wolf but the outcome could have been a lot more dangerous. One particularly hot summer day, Tuna decided to get in and drive a trade-in we had acquired. The trade-in was one of those odd looking Chevrolet SSR convertible trucks, it was new and innovative at the time. Tuna had taken the car around the block and then parked it back in its original spot. I went out to see if I could take it for a spin and Tuna shooed me away. I figured he was on the phone or just having a bad morning so I went back inside.

After about five minutes, I noticed that Tuna was not back in the office so I asked one of the other guys where he was. Dave replied that he had no idea but he would go check on it. He came back a minute later laughing hysterically, saying that Tuna was in the car making faces and screaming. We all figured he was on the phone with his wife or his girlfriend or for that matter both at the same time. Dave and I decided to go out there and make faces back at Tuna. After a little while, we went back inside as it looked like we were only elevating the situation and making Tuna even more upset.

Another few minutes later, we hear a loud banging noise and then glass shattering. Not knowing what it was, and not taking any chances as shootings and explosions have become common at out dealership, we decided to hunker down and lay low. It was at that exact moment that our detail guy ran in and screamed “Tuna just broke the window and is on the concrete, I dont think he is breathing.” Automatically everyone inside assumes the worst: Tuna just got shot! No one wanted to go out there to verify if he did actually get shot for fear that they would be next. As I said earlier, Tuna and I had grown extremely close and without thinking I ran to his aid. When I got to his side I didn’t notice any blood only pools of sweat soaking his shirt. I could not understand what possibly could have happened, or why Tuna was not moving. I decided it was best not to move him, and by this point the police and ambulance had arrived and told me to step back. I don’t know exactly what they did but they got him to wake up instantly. Upon waking up, he yelled the words “Dave, Lizard, I am going to kill you” and then passed right back out.

Dave and I had zero idea what he meant, but being that Tuna was a large guy with a short fuse, I think Dave and I were happy he passed back out…looking back on that, it was probably an evil thought to have. The ambulance whisked Tuna away to the hospital before any other malicious thoughts could creep into our heads! At the hospital we learned that Tuna had suffered from heat stroke and dehydration but that he was okay. When we walked into the room where he was he was sleeping, I decided to wake him up in true LV Lizard fashion…TUNA, WAKE THE **** UP BITCH! and he woke up just like that! When we asked Tuna what happened, all he could say is that when he gets out of the hospital he was going to kick our asses! After five minutes of threats, we learned that Tuna had somehow locked himself in the car. When I initially thought that he shooed me away, he was actually motioning for me to unlock the door from the outside. When he was making faces at Dave, they were faces of helplessness and his motions to Dave were misconstrued as playful instead of disastrous. Tuna’s last hope was to kick the window out with his last ounce of strength, climb out, and hope someone came to his rescue. That was not the last time that Tuna almost died, but it was definitely the closest he had come.

In true LV Lizard fashion, I made fun of him daily for a whole month! That being said, about a month later I was sitting in a Testarossa after just taking it for a drive when Tuna and Dave walked up and held both doors shut with all their strength. I was locked in for what felt like forever, and was drenched in sweat. I felt like I was being cooked inside an oven. The fact that I am a Jew should entitle me to never have to feel that way, but lo and behold here I was in a Ferrari oven. I could not get out and I knew I couldn’t break the window, so here I was stuck. All of my teasing and taunting came right back in my face and I was finally let out of the car to Tuna saying “now you know how it feels” with a huge smile on his face.

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Florida “Dealer” Plates

Cars,Selling Cars | Wednesday April 8 2009 12:32 pm | Comments (1) Tags: , , , ,
The regular plates say the county of residence on the bottom

Regular plates say the county of residence on the bottom

In Florida (as in most states) car dealers get special license plates. In Florida it says DEALER on the bottom of the plate instead of the county that issues the plate.

I was rolling in South Beach in a Ferrari F430 with the top down feeling like a king.  All of a sudden, a guy runs out to the street, stops me, and says (In front of a huge crowd) “DAMMMMN BOY HOW MANY DRUGS YOU GOTTA DEAL TO GET DEALER ON YO PLATES!”  To this day everytime I am putting on a dealer plate I think of that guy and laugh.

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My Trip to the Polls Last November

Cars,Illegal Acts | Monday April 6 2009 11:43 pm | Comments (0) Tags: , , , , , ,

Those who know me know that I’m a very impatient person and that having to wait in line drives me nuts. It is the main reason why I refuse to go food shopping: people are way to slow with their carts and then you wait in line and the person at the register moves your products at the speed of a 400 lb turtle. Afterward you get to the bagger who cant seem to put the products in the bag correctly or promptly due to being mentally challenged! Not that there is anything wrong with that, I am all for the fact that Publix employs challenged people, however I’m just too impatient to deal with it, so I make others food shop for me. Anyway, before I go off on a rant of being impatient how about you all just take my word for it.

Here’s a play-by-play of my experience trying to vote on election day: I get to the polls at around 9:00 a.m., no doubt still drunk from the night before, or at the very least with a massive hang over and back ache from sleeping on a lazy boy chair with whatever her name was. The line was long to say the least. There was no way in hell I was waiting in it, but there was also no way in hell I was going to come all the way back out to vote later. I was clearly in the wrong place and very obviously stood out like a cotton ball in a sea of color. The voters were clearly not voting for my choice and the line was way too long, so I devised a plan to skip the line.

As I looked around, I saw that the poll workers all had on ID badges attached to lanyards around their necks. I thought PERFECT, my CCW permit is attached to a lanyard in my car and it looks like a government ID!  For those out of the loop, a CCW is a concealed weapons permit. Yes, the lizard carries a gun! Read the rest »

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