Thursday, June 3, 2010

02/??/06 (MySpace Blog Repost)


So I've been keeping it relatively low-key the past few weeks due to lack of cash (Where's that fucking student loan check?). Anyways I've managed to stay pretty much away from the 5-0, but some of my friends haven't been so lucky. Here are their stories (names and faces withheld to protect the not-so-innocent):

Story #1: This fucking guy. Kid goes to his cousin's bat mitzva in a Dirty Jersey college town. Big blow out bash. Rich uncle and all that jazz. So he gets completely boofy blitzed Saturday afternoon while waiting around for the party. Forced to imbibe incredibly pricey whiskey by the very (cr)uncle throwing the party. Can't really say no there. He blacks out for most of the rest of the night, although I hear some tidbits involving another uncle's nipples. He starts a big ado at the hotel bar because they let him smoke cigarettes, but not cigars (this kid don't even smoke cigars and he quit cigs on New Year's). Wanders aimlessly around this serene college town afterhours. Somehow hobnobs with the with the local police who suggest he follow a crack whore when he tells them he's looking for some GAIRLS. Somehow wanders into a dorm party with a jam session going on. Here's where it gets interesting. He's back at the hotel and finds an open office. Nonchalantly (and in retrospect, 100% conspicuously) ganks about $3000 worth of computer equipment (laptop, external hard drive, IPOD, portable speakers). Next day (Super Bowl XL), he rolls through my crib with the ill begotten booty. Now I'm half jealous that he's got all this cool shit when I could seriously use a laptop myself and half concerned for the poor sap who lost all this shit. We're looking through the files and what not. There's a whole lot of legal mumbo jumbo type files. This is obviously a lawyer's computer (feeling a little better that in some way the judicial system has had a fork thrown in its works). There's some Phish on the external hard drive (feeling a little worse for this dude because I can sympathize with a hippie if not a lawyer). So my buddy leaves and, before he does, I tell him to watch out for that bitch. "What bitch?" says he. "Karma!" says I. Cut to the next morning. He gets a call from his father's friend (the same friend who wanted to smoke cigars in the bar and had to buy the whole bar drinks after my compadre flipped out). Turns out the hotel has security cameras (SUPRISE!) and they caught my friend on tape stealing all that shit and  then saw him on tape with his father's friend shortly thereafter. They put one and one together and called my friend's father's friend who had his information on file since he had a hotel room in his name (Joisey cops woik fast). So needless to say this dude is PISSED OFF! My friend gets on the phone with the Jersey Bacon and explains the whole situation. Tells them he's real sorry and he'll come down and return the stuff. Drives back down to Jersey and wastes the whole day getting arrested and interrogated and all that stuff. Gets charged with burglary or theft or both. Supposedly it'll be better because he confessed and brought it back ASAP, but I'll let you know about that. Court case is pending. Moral of the story: check for cameras and don't take lawyer's laptops. You live, you learn.

Story #2: My other friend does grafitti. There's actually another interesting story involving him getting nabbed for painting trains and me getting nabbed for trying to rescue him. All these arrests will be the death of me. Or if it doesn't kill me it makes me stronger. Some shit like that. That's a story for another day. Or the book. Anyways graf kids are invariably camera buffs too, out of necessity more than anything else. So this kid's out late one night, capturing Queens' seedy underbelly on digital camera for posterity. He's chilling in his car when these DT's (undercover detectives; I don't know why it's DT, maybe DeTective?) come up from behind him, lights flashing. Now he's doing nothing wrong so I guess he figures its an average traffic stop and even so he won't get a ticket. I'm pretty sure he was parked at the time. But shit ain't never easy. These trigger happy psychos come up on the car with their shotguns drawn all like "DON'T FUCKING MOVE!!!" and shit. I'm not sure exactly what I would've done in that situation, but my friend did the right thing and didn't move. They didn't even search his car or give him a ticket or anything. But I don't doubt that those bastards would've shot him with out giving the matter a second thought. That's why I don't like cops. I know they have their reasons and everything, but fuck them. To paraphrase Slick Rick, "It's a two way street, kid."

Story #3: Same dude as Story #2. He's wandering illegally on some freight train tracks doing his thing when fate smiles upon him (possibly in some divine retribution for Story #2). In any case, he stumbles upon a pair of standard issue official NYPD Smith & Wesson handcuffs. I'm sure there's a great untold story behind those. Use your imagination. I'm thinking some dude got cuffed and ran away and somehow picked them. Either that or some idiot pig lost 'em. Quite the find, in any case. No keys, though. I'm just waiting for the moment of drunken stupidity when one of us gets stuck in those bad boys. I'm pretty sure the lock clipper will cut through those. It'll make a good story if nothing else and you know that's my mojo.

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