Chapter 2 – My life- My Friends Part 1

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My four best friends are Sean, Mike Eric and Gino. Sean lives in the valley of Northern California just outside the Bay area where we all grew up. Gino is in a small suburb of Providence, Rhode Island which he returned to after I moved to Oregon. Mike lives about 40 miles from me in Willamina, Oregon but with conflicting schedules we hardly see each other. Eric and I live together with his little girl Fallon, it’s two men and a baby (babies when I have my daughter Payton)..Even though we all live many miles apart we have built memories and have become men together. A band of brothers without all the killing of innocent soldiers and burning Jews. We all have kids except for Gino but he possibly could have had some and ate them; I’m not sure. Sean was the first to have a child and then married and had two more. He has since divorced (or filed for) the midget twat bag and has had his balls snipped. Mike has been married twice and has two children, one with Sean’s youngest sister no less and the other with my favorite, Rebecca. I have my daughter but have never been married. I always wanted to have a child with the town whore and then help mold her, “every other weekend,” into a fine woman. Gino just recently was married. I was supposed to be there but the cost to fly across the country was too much at the time. He hasn’t forgiven me and we haven’t talked in months. He did start later than all of us. I think he lost his virginity 6 years ago to a black stripper. I guess if I was 25 when I finally dipped my chip into the vadge sauce I would want it to be something better than how my friends did it. As if to say, “see, this is why I waited ass fucks.”

 My friend Sean is 6’3 and about 170 pounds, which is good because he finally put on some meat and is able to take off the ankle weights to keep from blowing away. He’s an athletic guy with a taste for Bud Light Lime and both fat and crazy women. The way I see it, it’s one less crazy fatty that wants me.

Side note: I am a fatist and a fat one at that. I only date thin or slightly thick women because I figure I am fat enough for both of us and let’s face it, two fat people fucking is disgusting. Mike and his ex-wife are perfect examples of this. Plus there is an elevator weight limit.

Now Sean is a decent looking guy in his early thirties with very minimal flaws. Aside from his apparent balding and the obvious over compensating facial hair patches he has in an attempt to hide it; his only other physical oddity is his beak. I mean we all have a friend with that kind of sniffer. The one you want to call when you lose your keys because you know deep down they’re part blood hound. Overall, Sean is an attractive guy and exemplifies the meaning of a “dad.” He is responsible and takes good care of his kids. He has a dry sense of humor but get a few beers in him and he opens up like a prom queen’s legs. Which is fun because it is usually followed by a retarded version of some early nineties dance like the cabbage patch or running man. I can honestly say that I truly love Sean like a brother. I don’t mean that in a, he’s Heath Ledger and I’m Jake Gyllenhaal, kind of way either. If I was a fag though, Sean would probably be the kind of guy I would date. Mostly because I know if we got into a physical altercation arguing about whether Lance Bass or Clay Aiken dressed better, I know I would win. Plus that beak of his would tickle my butthole when we sixty-nined. Let’s be real, he’s been a chubby chaser in the past and so my chances would be good to hit that ass. With that being said I love pussy and pussy loves me and however else the rest of that Easy E song goes.

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If Pocahontas and John Candy had a love child his name would be Mike and he would eventually marry a thing named Cheryl, or as I call her Beasticka. Both Mike and I have fluctuated from and to slightly chubby, big and even straight fat. It seems as of late the slightly chubby applies. Mike, like me, stands at 6’1 but holds his weight in his gut and with smaller legs resembles the shape of a deformed pear. Don’t get me wrong, Mike is a good looking guy and is easily prettier than me. Just to make him happy, since he likes to brag, he also has a big giant dick that surpasses my push-up pop of a cock. That shout out should get me out of trouble for bagging on his obese version of Charlize Theron in “Monster” thing he called a wife. Mike as well has issues besides buttoning his pants. He has big hair that he obsesses about to the point of OCD like behavior. He also is very femmie and often gets mistaken for being a cake walking rollerblading friend of Dorothy. He wears those out of style Oakley shades that make him look more Mexican than he is and he uses more gel in a week than a downtown salon. His only real problem is that he is self-consuming. If he is happy with a new woman he stops calling. If he breaks up with said women he is depressed and stops calling. If he meets new friends that are more exciting in the moment he stops calling. If his hungry ass needs to borrow $50 or needs a ride to buy beer or a cheeseburger… he calls. To be fair though, when I need anything I can call him and he is usually there. Once we’re hanging out all the other shit is gone and it’s just two best friends together. Mike is a smart guy when it comes to things like music, to the point of amazing, but when it comes to women he’s a fucking moron. He is insanely co-dependent and would rather settle than be alone. He was an alcoholic but is 18 months sober and has an amazing girlfriend now, so hopefully he doesn’t fuck it up. His smile and laughter light up a room like a stick of dynamite and he is funny as hell. There, now he can’t be mad at me when I tell you that he has a sick obsession with Home Town Buffet and fat women. When I say fat I mean the kind you think are wearing a fanny pack under their shirt so you ask them to hold your keys only to find out it’s all gut. Then the mental image of Mike lifting up that obvious 18 pound flap of fat when he buries his chubby face into her Gi-gina (that’s gigantic and vagina put together) haunts you for weeks. It leaves questions that you want to know but you don’t, so you never ask. Like, does it rest on your head when you’re eating her out? Is your neck stronger now? Have you ever found a small child or country under there? Yeah, I want to puke when I think about it too but Mike’s taking one for the team; over and over and over. On behalf of us all, thanks Mike.

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Read the rest… My life – My friends Part 2 

 

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