Trip to New York City, Part III

My SLUT Bowling Ball and Million Dollar Apartments

by  HogWild

There was more to my trip to NYC than just baseball. There was also the World Wide Whore Try-outs. I would have won but this BITCH from Singapore proved that she really was from Bangkok—if ya catch my salty smelly drift.

I even pulled out my Super Jammy-Cactus Living Masochist Dildo. Oh well.

Okay, enough with the nizASTY nasty, I went to this nice Italian restaurant. And for you Midwest blondes, I’m not talking about some generic chain that dumps out a can of Spaghetti-o’s and serves it in a bowl with parsley. We’re talkin’ an authentic Italiano place owned by real Italians. With real mobsters who eat there. Okay, I’m not sure about the last part. But having real Mafiosos eat at your restaurant is pretty neat. At a normal restaurant, when it’s your birthday, the waiters come out and bang pots and pans and sing Happy Birthday. At this fine eatery, if you tell your server it’s your birthday, the staff comes out and sprays machine gun fire yelling, “That’s for Bruno!” Now THAT’S cool! 

So we’re enjoying a nice meal. I get the Ziti Fajiti with the Ravioli Canoli. Then this piano player is like playing some stupid song all loud. I thought you were supposed to tickle the ivories, not CRUSH them. I couldn’t hear myself think. And that’s hard to do, because I’m one of those obnoxious people who thinks out loud. I had to do something. His piano was driving me crazy. So I go up to this silver haired nub and I’m like, “I have a request.” And his eyes light up with excitement. I’m like, “Can you please play Silent Night. Emphasis on the SILENT!” I could tell he didn’t like my Hog Humor because he was muttering something in Italian that sounded like, “I’m going to break your kneecaps with a crowbar until your legs look like Manicotti.”

Now I know you know how expensive it is to live in ManHatin’ (Manhattan for you nubs who don’t know). I heard that the nub who runs AMAZON.COM just bought an 8 million unit Apartment. Holy Hardcovers! Wait, hasn’t his company like, never made a profit? Do you know how many “... For Dummies” Books he’s gonna have to sell now? 8 MILLION bacon bits for an APARTMENT! For THAT price he could have made the State of INDIANA his apartment. It’s in a great location. His place would overlook Illinois and Ohio. And his backyard would be Kentucky. Daaaaamn! I don’t care if his place is right in ManHatin’ and it has a pool. It’s still an apartment. He’s got neighbors and stuff. And it IS an apartment in NYC. That means utilities, water, and mutant ninja roaches are included. Damn it costs a lot of money to live in New York. I saw this dude begging on 43^rd Street. He was like, “I can’t make the rent.” He was looking all ragged too. Turns out he was paying $1000 a month to live in a DUMPSTER! He was all like, “But it’s in the CITY!” So I gave him a crisp unit in exchange for his signature. So does anyone wanna buy Arsenio Hall’s autograph? 

And I swear the pigeons have no feelings. They aren’t intimidated by you. They flex at you. And one tried to sell me a Rolex! And I don’t know what the hell they’re eating! This one pigeon dropped a bomb right in front of me. I think he excreted his pancreas!

Those 2 nubs are actually setting up a "hit."

So anyhoo, I’m out chillin’ with my Hogs, Russ & Sang. We go the ESPN cafe because they consider me a tourist since I’ve been in Ohio for so long. So I got the $10 ESPN burger. It’s like a regular hamburger except it cost twice as much. And the menu was ill. The ESPN part had good food. Except the “Sports Center” Special was repeated 13 times throughout. The ESPN Classic section featured old food that they reheat. And the ESPN2 section was just crap menu items that no one wanted except maybe for 13 year old skateboarders.

Gross! They had Martina Narvotilova's remains on the wall! Wait, is she still alive? No, she'd be 146.

They featured a Pepsi racer made entirely of crushed soda cans. Last I heard, an Urban Nomad car-jacked it and recycled his way to being a Millionaire.

My boy Sang whooped our rumps in racing. Who says Asians can't drive?!

Or you throw a giant bagel into the water and wait for a salmon to bite. Fishing might be fun in real life, but no way as a video game. What’s next? Arcade Library? Your mission is to learn the Dewey Decimal System in under 3 minutes. You race to the periodical section against 3 other nerds in head-to-head action. Gimme a break! Fishing should not be in the arcade. And neither should Figure Skating! Unless it’s the Tonya Harding version. Up-left-right does a triple axel jump. Left-right builds up speed. Up-down-attack button swings a baseball bat into your opponent. 

And there were mad hotties up in that piece! Yes yes. Lots of hot foreign tourist bims looking for a piece of American Pie. Looking for a Cyber Jock like me. I was like, “Hey baby. Check out that high score. You like that, huh?” When a girl slams 4 quarters in between your teeth, that’s a sign of affection, right?

My old Nintendo skills were not helping.

It’s been a while since we last all hung out. So I guess they forgot how retarded I am. It’s about 10 pm and we decide to catch a cab to go bowling. So we get picked up and I break one of the unwritten rules of New York City. NEVER SPEAK TO THE CABBIE UNLESS IT’S ABOUT DIRECTIONS. Yes, I admit it. And I may never be re-admitted to NY again because of this. But you’re not supposed to make conversation. You’re supposed to consider them robots who only drive. But if they were really robots, how would they build up such an awesome odor? 

I made with the convo with our cabbie. His last name was Singh, so I asked him if he sang. Innocent question, no? I asked him if he thought being a cab driver was dangerous. I mean, they do have bullet proof glass between the passengers and the driver. He said no. He said it was much more dangerous where he used to live. He said Harlem was like Candyland. He was a good guy. He loves America and he’s making an honest living. He also said, that to his knowledge, no one has had sex in his backseat. 

So we got to the place and it was a good time. We got CARDED! Can you believe that? So I had to show my Ohio license. How humiliating. The bouncer nub was like, “Is this a fake? How come there’s no straw hat in your picture?” Ha Ha Ha—SHUT UP! 

It was a great time talking about old High School memories. How we were all captain of the Football team, remembering all the hot bims we scored with, being named King at the Prom. (Life is better when you totally make up your memories.) So I had to use this 45 pound concrete bowling ball because I couldn’t find my usual 6 pound girlie ball. But then, I found it! My baby! A beautiful, little pink bowling ball! My game improved dramatically. I almost bowled my body temperature!

Yes, I named myself HOGWILD.NET so the scoreboard would promote my site. PROMOTE BABY, PROMOTE! I also paid a hooker to tattoo HOGWILD.NET on her buttocks.  

This place is for real! Only a serious bowling alley has a vending machine stocked with SOCKS. I bought me a pair of multi-colored tube socks.

It was so nice to find my little girl. I stuck my fingers in—oh so nice and warm and tight. I was bowling great. It was a romance. Strike, spare . . . But then--- she did me wrong. Like all bims eventually do. My girl, went back into the gutter! She’s a SLUT! A SLUT I tell you! And then, to make things worse, she kept giving me the split, but no head. She wouldn’t knock down the Head Pin. I HATE that!

Coming soon Part 4, at the New York Yankees game

My SLUT bowling ball.