unemployednate

After several weeks of creating an account on this lovely sight I have decided it is time to break my blogging cherry. My life can be fairly ridiculous on occasions, and I believe the time has come to begin sharing my shenanigans with the rest of the world.
Today I feel compelled to tell the tale of what happened at my apartment on a sunny Saturday afternoon, on the18th of April, 2009.
You see, my roommate, two of my buddies and myself like this video game called NBA2k9. A lot. It’s played while sober,  it’s played in the middle of the day,
it’s played during pre-funking, and it’s playing during post funking. On drinking nights that possess little motivation to leave the apartment, it’s played during straight up funking.
When the four of us are all present in my apartment, which houses the Xbox 360 and NBA 2K9, we tend to have quaint little round robin tournaments. The winner gets the spoils, and the loser gets stabbed repeatedly. Needless to say, we are reallyfucking loud when we play this game. Sometimes we have our subdued moments, but a majority of the time we sound like f-bomb dropping jackals, directing insults and obscenities to the competition, and very often the game itself. NBA 2k9
has been in my apartment since December, and I honestly don’t know how the
police, or the landlord, has not paid us a visit due to the noise that
has been coming out of this place since the inception of the NBA 2k9 era. Or, that’s what I had been saying before yesterday.
You see, it appears spring has finally arrived in Portland, Oregon, and now
that it’s here we can get a pretty kick ass breeze blowing through our
living room when we open the sliding glass door. Enough so that it
feels like being outside, even while I’m wallowing in my own filth
sprawlled on the couch in sweatpants and a wife beater. Better yet, we are in one of the few places in the complex where the balcony faces the backside of the building, so we aren’t onlooking the busy street of North East 47th. Instead we are facing some poor ladies backyard, as well as some trees and other crap. So naturally, we went “outside” during the most memorably round robin tournament yet.
Now, to truly appreciate how great a feat this was, remember that what I’m about to tell you occured during the middle of the day, around 5 o’clock or so. It was a beautiful late afternoon, and you could easily hear other humans outside having a gay old time. So, basically what I’m trying to say it’s natural to hear some laughter and
other on-goings occurring during a day like this. No big deal. But on
this particular round robin, we were going at it at a pretty high level
for about an hour and a half straight. No alcohol was being consumed
(at least not at that point during the day…), and we were being loud
strictly on the excitement and frustration that NBA 2k9
was causing. Because of the sliding glass door being open, we were
basically subjecting the entire neighborhood to what was happening
during the game(s), as well as the necessary obscene insults that occur during play. Like really obscene. (Imagine rape jokes, racist jokes, bathroom humor etc., all wrapped up in a neat little offensive package.)
During the post tournament, television watching, calming down period, I heard
a knock at the door and a ringing of the doorbell. Thinking it may have
been Sir Robert Steven Krause who came back to get something he forgot,
who had just left after a crushing defeat, I went over to open the
portal to my bachelor pad. Because my friends usually just barge in, I
did have my doubts as to who it was. And since I wasn’t expecting some
type of delivery food, I slightly feared it was an angry tenant of the
Park Hollywood Apartments, coming over to tell us to shut the fuck up. Much to my surprise, three Portland city Police officers were waiting outside.
Because I never know if I have some type of illegal something in my place, I
decided I didn’t want to let officer Wilson and his friends into my apartment. So
officer Wilson had my step outside, lock my hands on top of my head,
and proceeded to pat me down for an uncomfortably long period of time.
( And yes, for all of those perverts out there, let it be known that
officer Wislon kind of touched my penis.) As I was being molested, and I suppose being checked for a variety of weapons, the other two police men went into my
place anyway. You see, as it was explained to me by officer molester,
no warrant is required when investigating a criminal scene. Much to all
of our surprise, the police had come over not for a noise complaint,
which is naturally the reason we all thought they were there for,
but….. Suspicion of murder and arson!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Apparently someone called 911 because they thought that some girl was being lit on
fire in our apartment. “He’s on fire!!!!!” was mistaken for she’s on
fire, and the women’s screams that were heard came from non other then
Robert Steven Krause, who as I mentioned before had just left. And it
wasn’t like one person made this mistake, molester officer told me that
they had received a number of complaints.
After a quick search and run throw, and explaining to the police that we were simply having an intense round robin tournament, the three of Portland’s finest decided
that we weren’t killing and setting girls on fire after all, and
started to head out. The best part is that the loudness was the last
thing on there minds; they didn’t really scold us all that much for the
noise, that the 25 year old d-bags were causing because of a video
game. A threat of a noise violation ticket never even came up.
Instead, I guess they were just happy that we weren’t lighting girls on
fire.

Now, I’ve had my run-ins with the police before a number of
times in my day. A few minor in positions, a couple speeding tickets,
but nothing all too bad. But I can now say that I have been
investigated for suspicion of burning some girl, all because of a video
game (and maybe some other mental issues). And I think that’s pretty cool.

Maturity!!!!!!

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