Wet and Wild

I was reminiscing about my time in the Army yesterday with a friend. Here is a story he reminded me of….

What can I say about last night? Let’s just say last night was special. Another great night on the town in beautiful, scenic, Watertown. 

Watertown-NY-WashingtonStreet-01xl
This pictures is of “downtown” Watertown, circa 1905. It still looks the same.

I wasn’t planning on going out, but my boys invited me to a “booty shaking contest”. I had to think for a minute;
a) I had such a good impression of Watertown from my first night out here
b) everyone else was going, and…
c) probability of coming out with a stupid townie story afterwards was 100%.

So I decided to go to the “booty shaking contest” at this place called Strands. We arrived at Strands a little before 11 and man was it jumpin. By jumpin I mean depressing. It looked like a funeral in there. A few of my boys and I waited outside for a few while we decided if we were going to go in. We were outside for about 20 minutes or so watching to see if any ladies went into the club. Instead it was all dudes going in. Dudes by the cabload. This did not inspire confidence in us at all. The only reason we ended up going in was because one of the girls we were with was going to try to win the 100 dollar prize in the “booty shaking contest”, and she wanted us to be her cheering section. I protested seeing as how they weren’t paying me to stay.

Once I was on the inside I truly appreciated how much of a sausage party it was in there. The dance floor was empty (except for three or four white dudes trying to dance to Eminem) and there were hardly any girls there at all. The grand total according to one of my boys was ten girls, and of those ten two were lesbians, four worked with us, three were quite chunky, two were missing teeth, eight were forty plus, none of them could dance, and one looked like Hulk Hogan with tits (and she wasn’t even one of the lesbians). I know that adds up to more than ten, but some of them qualify in more than one category (for example there was the chunky, over forty lesbian).

Before long it was time for the “booty shaking contest”, which actually turned out to be a wet t-shirt contest. This was not the type in your dreams (unless said dreams are set on Elm Street). There were a grand total of three girls competing for the title of Miss “I Hope I Don’t Remember This Tomorrow” USA. The host of this whole ordeal was a man by the name of Dirty Dave (no it wasn’t me, although he did make me proud to share the name Dave with him). Dirty Dave was a charming lad, who spent most of the night trying to get “the dikes” (as he so affectionally called them) to kiss for everyone. He also made repeated references to the T-Shirt girls having to poop, and some fat girl’s camel toe. He was quite the poet.

The contest kicked off with one of the two girls we worked with and were never able to look in the face again. She was kinda cute, but she might have been the worst dancer ever. I mean she was Elaine from Seinfeld bad. Thankfully the blinding strobe lights flashing into the crowd’s eyes prevented us from seeing most of her routine. However, the lights did let up long enough for everyone to see her flash her boobs. Contestant two was the second girl we knew and wished we didn’t. She went topless in three seconds flat, although the strobe lights once again made this barely visible. Between her and fat townie contestant number three, this quickly turned from an R rating to NC-17. It was like Showgirls meets Jerry Springer.

                                    

In no time flat there were three wet topless townies up on the stage, trying to dance sexy and being fondled by a bunch of townie guys. In the words of Dave Chapelle, “I was disgusted… but I couldn’t look away.” The crowd was supposed to decide the winner of the contest by applause, but they all let out the same drunken hollering for all three contestants. So my main man Dirty Dave pretty much just picked his winner. He picked contestant number three. She was the fat townie we didn’t know. She was actually the homeliest of the three, but I think I figured out his judging criteria. Let’s compare the contestants and see how number three won.

Contestant #      Beer Gut Size        Boobie Size       Number of Teeth        

One                   plump                   B                       20 or so

Two                  chunky                  C                      10-15 range

Three                extra chunky          D                      at least 3

There you have it, three is the winner. Bigger gut, bigger boobs, and more mouth space. I guess size matters for girls too. 

Okay. I think everyone is nauseated enough for one entry. I am off to take a shower. Feel free to do the same.

Advertisements

48 comments

  1. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew.And you were in the army? or was that just a ploy for the story, because you didn’t want us to really know why you were in Waterville? Not that I could blame you for the lie.

  2. I think it’s time for you to hang out with a new group of friends Dave.I bet work will not be the same for you for a while!Thanks for letting me live in the moment with you.  I’m forever scarred.

  3. Hahaha…wow, Dave, um…that’s…well, it reminds me of this night I was at a bar…I told Matt about it and he’s the only person in the world that will know.  Let’s just say, it ranks up there with this in the ew category.

  4. @vanedave – did you get shot….. by your own gun?!?!!?actually. I had a buddy join the army and came back claiming he was shot in the foot… he was.. but I found out from his mom that he in fact.. managed it all on his own.*EDIT: you get 23 cool points for watching Dave Chapelle*

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s