Getbig.com: American Bodybuilding, Fitness and Figure
Getbig Main Boards => Gossip & Opinions => Topic started by: Meta-physical on January 31, 2017, 01:18:44 PM
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Miami Beach in the mid 90’s: a chaotic whirlwind of decadence, vice, and casual encounters with Hollywood stars. I was in my element. At aged 25 and a lean 270lbs, I was an irrepressible mix of sexual energy and reckless courage. A god-blessed combination of brains and brawn had ensured that I had already made a name for myself as a much sought-after bodyguard for the celebrity elite, and as I strolled on up to the most expensive nightclub in town, I caught a glance of my reflection in a car window and afforded myself a moment of immodesty to appreciate the way in which my fitted white Armani T-shirt wrapped around my chiselled arms.
A sharp whistle broke the ambience and snapped me back to reality. It was Carlos, the head doorman. ‘ Yo! Where the hell you been, brother?’ He asked, as he waved me up past the queue and leaned in for a hug-handshake combo. ‘You know me, man’ I said, laughing. ‘I can’t keep track of what day it is with all these girls after me!’ He put his hands on my shoulders and shook me lightly. ‘Please, mayne; you gotta fuckin teach me the ways! Show me how to get that prime pussy I always be seeing you with!’ I muttered something about promising to teach him every trick in the book as I made my way past him to the club’s inner doors. ‘Fucking b-eaner’, I thought to myself. ‘If I’ve got greasy hand prints on the back of my T-shirt now, I’ll take his nose off with a pair of pliers’.
As I made my way through the club and up to the bar I caught a figure out of the corner of my eye waving at me and trying to get my attention. It was Cameron Diaz and I was in no mood to have to listen to more of her shit. I hadn’t bothered to return her calls all last week, and I knew she wanted answers, but I wasn’t about to break her heart and tell her that she had an odour problem ‘downstairs’. She was far enough away for me to act like I hadn’t seen her, and I quickly shielded myself amongst the intermingling mass of bodies that had congregated on the dance floor to arrive at the bar unnoticed. I squeezed up next to a rather portly figure with a ponytail who was trying to get the barmaid’s attention by impatiently waving a $50 around, and noticed the team of bodyguards in close proximity to him, trying hard to look professional with their folded arms and earpieces. ‘Must be fucking amateur-hour’ I laughed to myself. The barmaid resembled a young Jennifer Aniston; my eyes fixated on her small but perfectly shaped breasts as they teasingly jiggled up and down in time with each step she took towards me. She smiled as she realised where my gaze was cast, and brushed past the outstretched arm with the $50 in it to lean in close to me. ‘What can I get you, baby?’ she asked. I could hear the rotund gentleman next to me curse in annoyance, and as I turned to face him I realised exactly who it was: plastic tough-guy and Z-list actor Steven Seagal. I was no fan of his shitty movies but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in case he ever decided to hire a real bodyguard. ‘It’s ok, babe; you can serve this guy first’, I answered back. She gave me a wink and turned to face him. ‘How much is that?’ he snapped, pointing up to the bottle of 1946 Macallan on the top shelf. She hesitated as she observed him impatiently rifling through his wallet, trying to count up his fifties. ‘It’s...It’s 500 bucks a glass, sir’, she said nervously, as she picked it up. He froze. ‘How fucking much?’ He replied, as his body tensed up and nostrils flared. ‘uuuh...500, sir’. He glared at her as he stood motionless for what seemed like an age. He breathed a sigh of capitulation as he bowed his head in shame. ‘Get me a Heineken’, he muttered, dejectedly. His attitude towards the young beauty had irked me, and as she reached up to put the bottle back on the top shelf I called out: ‘Wait...I’ll take two’. ‘You sure?’ she giggled, as she turned to me, regaining her upbeat demeanour. ‘Absolutely, babe. One for me, one for you’. She leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before skipping across the bar to fetch two glasses.
‘What the fuck is your problem, buddy?’ he barked, as he turned to fix me with a look of apoplectic rage. ‘Sorry, I don’t know who you are, but I ain’t got no problem’, I replied. ‘In fact, I got the opposite of a problem...I’ve got a wallet filled with hundred dollar bills and I’m gonna take that girl home with me later and give her a hot beef injection’. His face flushed with fury as he suddenly lost all composure and cried out ‘Oh Yeah? Well, she’s a fucking slut! I’ve fucked a thousand girls better-looking than her...Do you know who the fuck I am?’ the rest of the bar had stepped away from us by now, realising that it might not be the best of ideas to get trapped between a young muscle-hunk and an angry fat guy dressed up like a ninja. His entourage circled around us. ‘Take a hike, bozo’s’, I said calmly. They knew who I was and reluctantly backed off. I leaned in so that I was now face-to-face with him and whispered: ‘ I think you better apologise to her, sir, or I might just have to punch your tits over your shoulders’. He looked startled, aware that he had inadvertently backed himself into a corner he didn’t want to be in. All eyes were now on the both of us. ‘D...do you know what the Japanese is for “way of the harmonious spirit”?’ He spluttered. ‘It’s Aikido…and I was taught it by a grandmaster...over in Japan, so how about we both just cool it, ok? I know how to take a man down using only my chi’. I could see the nervousness in him and decided to push him further. ‘I don’t give a shit about your stupid Japanese grandmaster’, I said. ‘Their flag is actually a pie chart about how many of them are scared of Godzilla, and I’ll quite happily let you know what a nuclear bomb feels like before you fuck off back there again with a broken jaw’. As soon as the words had escaped my mouth he lashed out and grabbed me by the T-shirt as hard as he could. ‘TAKE THAT BACK’, he snarled. ‘Fuckin take it back or I’ll kill you!’ I laughed out loud. ‘Schoolboy error’ I said. ‘I MEAN IT! TAKE IT BACK WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT THE JA’…. Before the words were even out of his mouth I’d reached across to grab him by the hand and immediately bent his fingers back far enough to force him to relinquish his grip and let out a shrill cry of pain. ‘How does it feel to have to play the role of the bad guy for once in one of your own stupid films?’ I asked. ‘Not as much fun when it’s your fingers being broke, is it?’
He struggled to fight the pain and keep composed. Through gritted teeth he answered back: ‘Ok...Ok, look...I’m sorry, just let me go’. On another night I may have obliged, but not this time. Not after having had to sit through Under Siege 2: Dark Territory. This fat fuck was getting it. ‘Apologise to the young lady and the rest of the bar’ I called out authoritatively. ‘C’mon, please, I won’t do it’, he whispered. ‘I’m Steven fuckin Seagal, man; just let me go’. Enough was enough. I bent his fingers back as far as they would go, and directed him onto his knees as he let out a cry of pain so loud that the music stopped. You could hear a pin drop. ‘AAAAAAHHH, OK, I’M FUCKING SORRY! I’M FUCKING SORRY, MAN! I DIDN’T MEAN IT’, he screamed. ‘Tell the nightclub you’re an overweight pervert and you’re sorry for making Under Siege 2’, I demanded. ‘IT’S TRUE! IT’S FUCKIN TRUE, OK! I CAN’T STOP STUFFING MY FACE AND MY MOVIES ARE DOGSHIT’. The entire club broke out in laughter and I released my vice-like grip on his fingers. ‘THERE’S YOUR HERO’, I called out to the crowd, pointing at the broken man I now stood over. I leaned over to disrespectfully ruffle his slicked-back hair, then held up my now blackened hand to the crowd. ‘Boot polish!’ I shouted out in disgust. ‘I knew it all along’. I turned my back on the applauding audience as the bodyguards rushed over to drag the defeated fraudster away. ‘Now, how about another drink?’ I asked the barmaid. ‘You got it’, she replied as she rushed on over into my arms. ‘You can have anything you want... Anything’. The night was only just beginning.
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Okay, now I am intrigued.
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I don`t take kindly to long winded diatribes. :(
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Miami Beach in the mid 90’s: a chaotic whirlwind of decadence, vice, and casual encounters with Hollywood stars. I was in my element. At aged 25 and a lean 270lbs, I was an irrepressible mix of sexual energy and reckless courage. A god-blessed combination of brains and brawn had ensured that I had already made a name for myself as a much sought-after bodyguard for the celebrity elite, and as I strolled on up to the most expensive nightclub in town, I caught a glance of my reflection in a car window and afforded myself a moment of immodesty to appreciate the way in which my fitted white Armani T-shirt wrapped around my chiselled arms.
A sharp whistle broke the ambience and snapped me back to reality. It was Carlos, the head doorman. ‘ Yo! Where the hell you been, brother?’ He asked, as he waved me up past the queue and leaned in for a hug-handshake combo. ‘You know me, man’ I said, laughing. ‘I can’t keep track of what day it is with all these girls after me!’ He put his hands on my shoulders and shook me lightly. ‘Please, mayne; you gotta fuckin teach me the ways! Show me how to get that prime pussy I always be seeing you with!’ I muttered something about promising to teach him every trick in the book as I made my way past him to the club’s inner doors. ‘Fucking b-eaner’, I thought to myself. ‘If I’ve got greasy hand prints on the back of my T-shirt now, I’ll take his nose off with a pair of pliers’.
As I made my way through the club and up to the bar I caught a figure out of the corner of my eye waving at me and trying to get my attention. It was Cameron Diaz and I was in no mood to have to listen to more of her shit. I hadn’t bothered to return her calls all last week, and I knew she wanted answers, but I wasn’t about to break her heart and tell her that she had an odour problem ‘downstairs’. She was far enough away for me to act like I hadn’t seen her, and I quickly shielded myself amongst the intermingling mass of bodies that had congregated on the dance floor to arrive at the bar unnoticed. I squeezed up next to a rather portly figure with a ponytail who was trying to get the barmaid’s attention by impatiently waving a $50 around, and noticed the team of bodyguards in close proximity to him, trying hard to look professional with their folded arms and earpieces. ‘Must be fucking amateur-hour’ I laughed to myself. The barmaid resembled a young Jennifer Aniston; my eyes fixated on her small but perfectly shaped breasts as they teasingly jiggled up and down in time with each step she took towards me. She smiled as she realised where my gaze was fixated, and brushed past the outstretched arm with the $50 in it to lean in close to me. ‘What can I get you, baby?’ she asked. I could hear the rotund gentleman next to me curse in annoyance, and as I turned to face him I realised exactly who it was: plastic tough-guy and Z-list actor Steven Seagal. I was no fan of his shitty movies but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in case he ever decided to hire a real bodyguard. ‘It’s ok, babe; you can serve this guy first’, I answered back. She gave me a wink and turned to face him. ‘How much is that?’ he snapped, pointing up to the bottle of 1946 Macallan on the top shelf. She hesitated as she observed him impatiently rifling through his wallet, trying to count up his fifties. ‘It’s...It’s 500 bucks a glass, sir’, she said nervously, as she picked it up. He froze. ‘How fucking much?’ He replied, as his body tensed up and nostrils flared. ‘uuuh...500, sir’. He glared at her as he stood motionless for what seemed like an age. He breathed a sigh of capitulation as he bowed his head in shame. ‘Get me a Heineken’, he muttered, dejectedly. His attitude towards the young beauty had irked me, and as she reached up to put the bottle back on the top shelf I called out: ‘Wait...I’ll take two’. ‘You sure?’ she giggled, as she turned to me, regaining her upbeat demeanour. ‘Absolutely, babe. One for me, one for you’. She leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before skipping across the bar to fetch two glasses.
‘What the fuck is your problem, buddy?’ he barked, as he turned to fixate me with a look of apoplectic rage. ‘Sorry, I don’t know who you are, but I ain’t got no problem’, I replied. ‘In fact, I got the opposite of a problem...I’ve got a wallet filled with hundred dollar bills and I’m gonna take that girl home with me later and give her a hot beef injection’. His face flushed with fury as he suddenly lost all composure and cried out ‘Oh Yeah? Well, she’s a fucking slut! I’ve fucked a thousand girls better-looking than her...Do you know who the fuck am?’ the rest of the bar had stepped away from us by now, realising that it might not be the best of ideas to get trapped between a young muscle-hunk and an angry fat guy dressed up like a ninja. His entourage circled around us. ‘Take a hike, bozo’s’, I said calmly. They knew who I was and reluctantly backed off. I leaned in so that I was now face-to-face with him and whispered: ‘ I think you better apologise to her, sir, or I might just have to punch your tits over your shoulders’. He looked startled, aware that he had inadvertently backed himself into a corner he didn’t want to be in. All eyes were now on the both of us. ‘D...do you know what the Japanese is for “ way of the harmonious spirit” is?’ He spluttered. ‘It’s Aikido…and I was taught it by a grandmaster...over in Japan, so how about we both just cool it, ok? I know how to take a man down using only my chi’. I could see the nervousness in him and decided to push him further. ‘I don’t give a shit about your stupid Japanese grandmaster’, I said. ‘Their flag is actually a pie chart about how many of them are scared of Godzilla, and I’ll quite happily let you know what a nuclear bomb feels like before you fuck off back there again with a broken jaw’. As soon as the words had escaped my mouth he lashed out and grabbed me by the T-shirt as hard as he could. ‘TAKE THAT BACK’, he snarled. ‘Fuckin take it back or I’ll kill you!’ I laughed out loud. ‘Schoolboy error’ I said. ‘I MEAN IT! TAKE IT BACK WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT THE JA’…. Before the words were even out of his mouth I’d reached across to grab him by the hand and immediately bent his fingers back far enough to force him to relinquish his grip and let out a shrill cry of pain. ‘How does it feel to have to play the role of the bad guy for once in one of your own stupid films?’ I asked. ‘Not as much fun when it’s your fingers being broke, is it?’
He struggled to fight the pain and keep composed. Through gritted teeth he answered back: ‘Ok...Ok, look...I’m sorry, just let me go’. On another night I may have obliged, but not this time; not after having had to sit through Under Siege 2: Dark Territory. This fat fuck was getting it. ‘Apologise to the young lady and the rest of the bar’ I called out authoritatively. ‘C’mon, please, I won’t do it’, he whispered. ‘I’m Steven fuckin Seagal, man; just let me go’. Enough was enough. I bent his fingers back as far as they would go, and directed him onto his knees as he let out a cry of pain so loud that the music stopped. You could hear a pin drop. ‘AAAAAAHHH, OK, I’M FUCKING SORRY! I’M FUCKING SORRY, MAN! I DIDN’T MEAN IT’, he screamed. ‘Tell the nightclub you’re an overweight pervert and you’re sorry for making Under Siege 2’, I demanded. ‘IT’S TRUE! IT’S FUCKIN TRUE, OK! I CAN’T STOP STUFFING MY FACE AND MY MOVIES ARE DOGSHIT’. The entire club broke out in laughter and I released my vice-like grip on his fingers. ‘THERE’S YOUR HERO’, I called out to the crowd, pointing at the broken man I now stood over. I leaned over to disrespectfully ruffle his slicked-back hair, then held up my now blackened hand to the crowd. ‘Boot polish!’ I shouted out in disgust. ‘I knew it all along’. I turned my back on the applauding audience as the bodyguards rushed over to drag the defeated fraudster away. ‘Now, how about another drink?’ I asked the barmaid. ‘You got it’, she replied as she rushed on over into my arms. ‘You can have anything you want... Anything’. The night was only just beginning.
WELCOME TO THE THUNDERDOME............. ...........FUCKFACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111111111
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keep going...
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thats too long not gonna read that
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I don`t take kindly to long winded diatribes. :(
CRIB NOTES for Wes
1. Over inflated bouncer at a club.
2. Over inflated celeb in a club.
3. Over inflated dialogue.
4. Something about eating pseudo green berets for breakfast.
5. Pussy mixed in there somewhere.
6. The end.
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bullshit story. Who the fuck are you
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bullshit story. Who the fuck are you
I swear on my son's life it's all true. I'm not going to reveal my true identity for security reasons, but Ron knows who I am.
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CRIB NOTES for Wes
1. Over inflated bouncer at a club.
2. Over inflated celeb in a club.
3. Over inflated dialogue.
4. Something about eating pseudo green berets for breakfast.
5. Pussy mixed in there somewhere.
6. The end.
Thanx for the synopsis,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,dude is full of it !! LOL :D
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Truthfully though, it reminds me of the onlyme stories. I loved those. Miss that dude.
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I swear on my son's life it's all true. I'm not going to reveal my true identity for security reasons, but Ron knows who I am.
I call bullshit.
His newer flicks may suck be he is a true badass.
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Miami Beach in the mid 90’s: a chaotic whirlwind of decadence, vice, and casual encounters with Hollywood stars. I was in my element. At aged 25 and a lean 270lbs, I was an irrepressible mix of sexual energy and reckless courage. A god-blessed combination of brains and brawn had ensured that I had already made a name for myself as a much sought-after bodyguard for the celebrity elite, and as I strolled on up to the most expensive nightclub in town, I caught a glance of my reflection in a car window and afforded myself a moment of immodesty to appreciate the way in which my fitted white Armani T-shirt wrapped around my chiselled arms.
A sharp whistle broke the ambience and snapped me back to reality. It was Carlos, the head doorman. ‘ Yo! Where the hell you been, brother?’ He asked, as he waved me up past the queue and leaned in for a hug-handshake combo. ‘You know me, man’ I said, laughing. ‘I can’t keep track of what day it is with all these girls after me!’ He put his hands on my shoulders and shook me lightly. ‘Please, mayne; you gotta fuckin teach me the ways! Show me how to get that prime pussy I always be seeing you with!’ I muttered something about promising to teach him every trick in the book as I made my way past him to the club’s inner doors. ‘Fucking b-eaner’, I thought to myself. ‘If I’ve got greasy hand prints on the back of my T-shirt now, I’ll take his nose off with a pair of pliers’.
As I made my way through the club and up to the bar I caught a figure out of the corner of my eye waving at me and trying to get my attention. It was Cameron Diaz and I was in no mood to have to listen to more of her shit. I hadn’t bothered to return her calls all last week, and I knew she wanted answers, but I wasn’t about to break her heart and tell her that she had an odour problem ‘downstairs’. She was far enough away for me to act like I hadn’t seen her, and I quickly shielded myself amongst the intermingling mass of bodies that had congregated on the dance floor to arrive at the bar unnoticed. I squeezed up next to a rather portly figure with a ponytail who was trying to get the barmaid’s attention by impatiently waving a $50 around, and noticed the team of bodyguards in close proximity to him, trying hard to look professional with their folded arms and earpieces. ‘Must be fucking amateur-hour’ I laughed to myself. The barmaid resembled a young Jennifer Aniston; my eyes fixated on her small but perfectly shaped breasts as they teasingly jiggled up and down in time with each step she took towards me. She smiled as she realised where my gaze was fixated, and brushed past the outstretched arm with the $50 in it to lean in close to me. ‘What can I get you, baby?’ she asked. I could hear the rotund gentleman next to me curse in annoyance, and as I turned to face him I realised exactly who it was: plastic tough-guy and Z-list actor Steven Seagal. I was no fan of his shitty movies but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in case he ever decided to hire a real bodyguard. ‘It’s ok, babe; you can serve this guy first’, I answered back. She gave me a wink and turned to face him. ‘How much is that?’ he snapped, pointing up to the bottle of 1946 Macallan on the top shelf. She hesitated as she observed him impatiently rifling through his wallet, trying to count up his fifties. ‘It’s...It’s 500 bucks a glass, sir’, she said nervously, as she picked it up. He froze. ‘How fucking much?’ He replied, as his body tensed up and nostrils flared. ‘uuuh...500, sir’. He glared at her as he stood motionless for what seemed like an age. He breathed a sigh of capitulation as he bowed his head in shame. ‘Get me a Heineken’, he muttered, dejectedly. His attitude towards the young beauty had irked me, and as she reached up to put the bottle back on the top shelf I called out: ‘Wait...I’ll take two’. ‘You sure?’ she giggled, as she turned to me, regaining her upbeat demeanour. ‘Absolutely, babe. One for me, one for you’. She leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before skipping across the bar to fetch two glasses.
‘What the fuck is your problem, buddy?’ he barked, as he turned to fixate me with a look of apoplectic rage. ‘Sorry, I don’t know who you are, but I ain’t got no problem’, I replied. ‘In fact, I got the opposite of a problem...I’ve got a wallet filled with hundred dollar bills and I’m gonna take that girl home with me later and give her a hot beef injection’. His face flushed with fury as he suddenly lost all composure and cried out ‘Oh Yeah? Well, she’s a fucking slut! I’ve fucked a thousand girls better-looking than her...Do you know who the fuck am?’ the rest of the bar had stepped away from us by now, realising that it might not be the best of ideas to get trapped between a young muscle-hunk and an angry fat guy dressed up like a ninja. His entourage circled around us. ‘Take a hike, bozo’s’, I said calmly. They knew who I was and reluctantly backed off. I leaned in so that I was now face-to-face with him and whispered: ‘ I think you better apologise to her, sir, or I might just have to punch your tits over your shoulders’. He looked startled, aware that he had inadvertently backed himself into a corner he didn’t want to be in. All eyes were now on the both of us. ‘D...do you know what the Japanese is for “way of the harmonious spirit”?’ He spluttered. ‘It’s Aikido…and I was taught it by a grandmaster...over in Japan, so how about we both just cool it, ok? I know how to take a man down using only my chi’. I could see the nervousness in him and decided to push him further. ‘I don’t give a shit about your stupid Japanese grandmaster’, I said. ‘Their flag is actually a pie chart about how many of them are scared of Godzilla, and I’ll quite happily let you know what a nuclear bomb feels like before you fuck off back there again with a broken jaw’. As soon as the words had escaped my mouth he lashed out and grabbed me by the T-shirt as hard as he could. ‘TAKE THAT BACK’, he snarled. ‘Fuckin take it back or I’ll kill you!’ I laughed out loud. ‘Schoolboy error’ I said. ‘I MEAN IT! TAKE IT BACK WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT THE JA’…. Before the words were even out of his mouth I’d reached across to grab him by the hand and immediately bent his fingers back far enough to force him to relinquish his grip and let out a shrill cry of pain. ‘How does it feel to have to play the role of the bad guy for once in one of your own stupid films?’ I asked. ‘Not as much fun when it’s your fingers being broke, is it?’
He struggled to fight the pain and keep composed. Through gritted teeth he answered back: ‘Ok...Ok, look...I’m sorry, just let me go’. On another night I may have obliged, but not this time; not after having had to sit through Under Siege 2: Dark Territory. This fat fuck was getting it. ‘Apologise to the young lady and the rest of the bar’ I called out authoritatively. ‘C’mon, please, I won’t do it’, he whispered. ‘I’m Steven fuckin Seagal, man; just let me go’. Enough was enough. I bent his fingers back as far as they would go, and directed him onto his knees as he let out a cry of pain so loud that the music stopped. You could hear a pin drop. ‘AAAAAAHHH, OK, I’M FUCKING SORRY! I’M FUCKING SORRY, MAN! I DIDN’T MEAN IT’, he screamed. ‘Tell the nightclub you’re an overweight pervert and you’re sorry for making Under Siege 2’, I demanded. ‘IT’S TRUE! IT’S FUCKIN TRUE, OK! I CAN’T STOP STUFFING MY FACE AND MY MOVIES ARE DOGSHIT’. The entire club broke out in laughter and I released my vice-like grip on his fingers. ‘THERE’S YOUR HERO’, I called out to the crowd, pointing at the broken man I now stood over. I leaned over to disrespectfully ruffle his slicked-back hair, then held up my now blackened hand to the crowd. ‘Boot polish!’ I shouted out in disgust. ‘I knew it all along’. I turned my back on the applauding audience as the bodyguards rushed over to drag the defeated fraudster away. ‘Now, how about another drink?’ I asked the barmaid. ‘You got it’, she replied as she rushed on over into my arms. ‘You can have anything you want... Anything’. The night was only just beginning.
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Truthfully though, it reminds me of the onlyme stories. I loved those. Miss that dude.
I agree and miss him also but his stories were true.
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Hack. A bro Mickey Spillane wannabe. Don't quit your day job stocking the aisles at Piggly Wiggly, son.
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I swear on my son's life it's all true. I'm not going to reveal my true identity for security reasons, but Ron knows who I am.
What security, youre so full of shit. And Ron doesnt know you. I just spoke to him
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I agree and miss him also but his stories were true.
What happened to onlyme, i forgot about that
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Miami Beach in the mid 90’s: a chaotic whirlwind of decadence, vice, and casual encounters with Hollywood stars. I was in my element. At aged 25 and a lean 270lbs, I was an irrepressible mix of sexual energy and reckless courage. A god-blessed combination of brains and brawn had ensured that I had already made a name for myself as a much sought-after bodyguard for the celebrity elite, and as I strolled on up to the most expensive nightclub in town, I caught a glance of my reflection in a car window and afforded myself a moment of immodesty to appreciate the way in which my fitted white Armani T-shirt wrapped around my chiselled arms.
A sharp whistle broke the ambience and snapped me back to reality. It was Carlos, the head doorman. ‘ Yo! Where the hell you been, brother?’ He asked, as he waved me up past the queue and leaned in for a hug-handshake combo. ‘You know me, man’ I said, laughing. ‘I can’t keep track of what day it is with all these girls after me!’ He put his hands on my shoulders and shook me lightly. ‘Please, mayne; you gotta fuckin teach me the ways! Show me how to get that prime pussy I always be seeing you with!’ I muttered something about promising to teach him every trick in the book as I made my way past him to the club’s inner doors. ‘Fucking b-eaner’, I thought to myself. ‘If I’ve got greasy hand prints on the back of my T-shirt now, I’ll take his nose off with a pair of pliers’.
As I made my way through the club and up to the bar I caught a figure out of the corner of my eye waving at me and trying to get my attention. It was Cameron Diaz and I was in no mood to have to listen to more of her shit. I hadn’t bothered to return her calls all last week, and I knew she wanted answers, but I wasn’t about to break her heart and tell her that she had an odour problem ‘downstairs’. She was far enough away for me to act like I hadn’t seen her, and I quickly shielded myself amongst the intermingling mass of bodies that had congregated on the dance floor to arrive at the bar unnoticed. I squeezed up next to a rather portly figure with a ponytail who was trying to get the barmaid’s attention by impatiently waving a $50 around, and noticed the team of bodyguards in close proximity to him, trying hard to look professional with their folded arms and earpieces. ‘Must be fucking amateur-hour’ I laughed to myself. The barmaid resembled a young Jennifer Aniston; my eyes fixated on her small but perfectly shaped breasts as they teasingly jiggled up and down in time with each step she took towards me. She smiled as she realised where my gaze was fixated, and brushed past the outstretched arm with the $50 in it to lean in close to me. ‘What can I get you, baby?’ she asked. I could hear the rotund gentleman next to me curse in annoyance, and as I turned to face him I realised exactly who it was: plastic tough-guy and Z-list actor Steven Seagal. I was no fan of his shitty movies but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in case he ever decided to hire a real bodyguard. ‘It’s ok, babe; you can serve this guy first’, I answered back. She gave me a wink and turned to face him. ‘How much is that?’ he snapped, pointing up to the bottle of 1946 Macallan on the top shelf. She hesitated as she observed him impatiently rifling through his wallet, trying to count up his fifties. ‘It’s...It’s 500 bucks a glass, sir’, she said nervously, as she picked it up. He froze. ‘How fucking much?’ He replied, as his body tensed up and nostrils flared. ‘uuuh...500, sir’. He glared at her as he stood motionless for what seemed like an age. He breathed a sigh of capitulation as he bowed his head in shame. ‘Get me a Heineken’, he muttered, dejectedly. His attitude towards the young beauty had irked me, and as she reached up to put the bottle back on the top shelf I called out: ‘Wait...I’ll take two’. ‘You sure?’ she giggled, as she turned to me, regaining her upbeat demeanour. ‘Absolutely, babe. One for me, one for you’. She leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before skipping across the bar to fetch two glasses.
‘What the fuck is your problem, buddy?’ he barked, as he turned to fixate me with a look of apoplectic rage. ‘Sorry, I don’t know who you are, but I ain’t got no problem’, I replied. ‘In fact, I got the opposite of a problem...I’ve got a wallet filled with hundred dollar bills and I’m gonna take that girl home with me later and give her a hot beef injection’. His face flushed with fury as he suddenly lost all composure and cried out ‘Oh Yeah? Well, she’s a fucking slut! I’ve fucked a thousand girls better-looking than her...Do you know who the fuck am?’ the rest of the bar had stepped away from us by now, realising that it might not be the best of ideas to get trapped between a young muscle-hunk and an angry fat guy dressed up like a ninja. His entourage circled around us. ‘Take a hike, bozo’s’, I said calmly. They knew who I was and reluctantly backed off. I leaned in so that I was now face-to-face with him and whispered: ‘ I think you better apologise to her, sir, or I might just have to punch your tits over your shoulders’. He looked startled, aware that he had inadvertently backed himself into a corner he didn’t want to be in. All eyes were now on the both of us. ‘D...do you know what the Japanese is for “way of the harmonious spirit”?’ He spluttered. ‘It’s Aikido…and I was taught it by a grandmaster...over in Japan, so how about we both just cool it, ok? I know how to take a man down using only my chi’. I could see the nervousness in him and decided to push him further. ‘I don’t give a shit about your stupid Japanese grandmaster’, I said. ‘Their flag is actually a pie chart about how many of them are scared of Godzilla, and I’ll quite happily let you know what a nuclear bomb feels like before you fuck off back there again with a broken jaw’. As soon as the words had escaped my mouth he lashed out and grabbed me by the T-shirt as hard as he could. ‘TAKE THAT BACK’, he snarled. ‘Fuckin take it back or I’ll kill you!’ I laughed out loud. ‘Schoolboy error’ I said. ‘I MEAN IT! TAKE IT BACK WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT THE JA’…. Before the words were even out of his mouth I’d reached across to grab him by the hand and immediately bent his fingers back far enough to force him to relinquish his grip and let out a shrill cry of pain. ‘How does it feel to have to play the role of the bad guy for once in one of your own stupid films?’ I asked. ‘Not as much fun when it’s your fingers being broke, is it?’
He struggled to fight the pain and keep composed. Through gritted teeth he answered back: ‘Ok...Ok, look...I’m sorry, just let me go’. On another night I may have obliged, but not this time; not after having had to sit through Under Siege 2: Dark Territory. This fat fuck was getting it. ‘Apologise to the young lady and the rest of the bar’ I called out authoritatively. ‘C’mon, please, I won’t do it’, he whispered. ‘I’m Steven fuckin Seagal, man; just let me go’. Enough was enough. I bent his fingers back as far as they would go, and directed him onto his knees as he let out a cry of pain so loud that the music stopped. You could hear a pin drop. ‘AAAAAAHHH, OK, I’M FUCKING SORRY! I’M FUCKING SORRY, MAN! I DIDN’T MEAN IT’, he screamed. ‘Tell the nightclub you’re an overweight pervert and you’re sorry for making Under Siege 2’, I demanded. ‘IT’S TRUE! IT’S FUCKIN TRUE, OK! I CAN’T STOP STUFFING MY FACE AND MY MOVIES ARE DOGSHIT’. The entire club broke out in laughter and I released my vice-like grip on his fingers. ‘THERE’S YOUR HERO’, I called out to the crowd, pointing at the broken man I now stood over. I leaned over to disrespectfully ruffle his slicked-back hair, then held up my now blackened hand to the crowd. ‘Boot polish!’ I shouted out in disgust. ‘I knew it all along’. I turned my back on the applauding audience as the bodyguards rushed over to drag the defeated fraudster away. ‘Now, how about another drink?’ I asked the barmaid. ‘You got it’, she replied as she rushed on over into my arms. ‘You can have anything you want... Anything’. The night was only just beginning.
(http://i36.photobucket.com/albums/e42/sherdogwebmaster/5luLMf1_zpsyjbd07ie.gif)
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What security, youre so full of shit. And Ron doesnt know you. I just spoke to him
Shut the fuck up. The only Ron you know is the one who also happens to be a clown and works at Mcdonald's with you. I don't reveal my true identity because I used to work for the government. It could put my life in danger. I wouldn't be surprised if Seagal still holds a grudge after all these years and wants to have me killed.
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(http://simitator.com/images/2017-01-31/sdw7s.jpg)
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Miami Beach in the mid 90’s: a chaotic whirlwind of decadence, vice, and casual encounters with Hollywood stars. I was in my element. At aged 25 and a lean 270lbs, I was an irrepressible mix of sexual energy and reckless courage. A god-blessed combination of brains and brawn had ensured that I had already made a name for myself as a much sought-after bodyguard for the celebrity elite, and as I strolled on up to the most expensive nightclub in town, I caught a glance of my reflection in a car window and afforded myself a moment of immodesty to appreciate the way in which my fitted white Armani T-shirt wrapped around my chiselled arms.
A sharp whistle broke the ambience and snapped me back to reality. It was Carlos, the head doorman. ‘ Yo! Where the hell you been, brother?’ He asked, as he waved me up past the queue and leaned in for a hug-handshake combo. ‘You know me, man’ I said, laughing. ‘I can’t keep track of what day it is with all these girls after me!’ He put his hands on my shoulders and shook me lightly. ‘Please, mayne; you gotta fuckin teach me the ways! Show me how to get that prime pussy I always be seeing you with!’ I muttered something about promising to teach him every trick in the book as I made my way past him to the club’s inner doors. ‘Fucking b-eaner’, I thought to myself. ‘If I’ve got greasy hand prints on the back of my T-shirt now, I’ll take his nose off with a pair of pliers’.
As I made my way through the club and up to the bar I caught a figure out of the corner of my eye waving at me and trying to get my attention. It was Cameron Diaz and I was in no mood to have to listen to more of her shit. I hadn’t bothered to return her calls all last week, and I knew she wanted answers, but I wasn’t about to break her heart and tell her that she had an odour problem ‘downstairs’. She was far enough away for me to act like I hadn’t seen her, and I quickly shielded myself amongst the intermingling mass of bodies that had congregated on the dance floor to arrive at the bar unnoticed. I squeezed up next to a rather portly figure with a ponytail who was trying to get the barmaid’s attention by impatiently waving a $50 around, and noticed the team of bodyguards in close proximity to him, trying hard to look professional with their folded arms and earpieces. ‘Must be fucking amateur-hour’ I laughed to myself. The barmaid resembled a young Jennifer Aniston; my eyes fixated on her small but perfectly shaped breasts as they teasingly jiggled up and down in time with each step she took towards me. She smiled as she realised where my gaze was fixated, and brushed past the outstretched arm with the $50 in it to lean in close to me. ‘What can I get you, baby?’ she asked. I could hear the rotund gentleman next to me curse in annoyance, and as I turned to face him I realised exactly who it was: plastic tough-guy and Z-list actor Steven Seagal. I was no fan of his shitty movies but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in case he ever decided to hire a real bodyguard. ‘It’s ok, babe; you can serve this guy first’, I answered back. She gave me a wink and turned to face him. ‘How much is that?’ he snapped, pointing up to the bottle of 1946 Macallan on the top shelf. She hesitated as she observed him impatiently rifling through his wallet, trying to count up his fifties. ‘It’s...It’s 500 bucks a glass, sir’, she said nervously, as she picked it up. He froze. ‘How fucking much?’ He replied, as his body tensed up and nostrils flared. ‘uuuh...500, sir’. He glared at her as he stood motionless for what seemed like an age. He breathed a sigh of capitulation as he bowed his head in shame. ‘Get me a Heineken’, he muttered, dejectedly. His attitude towards the young beauty had irked me, and as she reached up to put the bottle back on the top shelf I called out: ‘Wait...I’ll take two’. ‘You sure?’ she giggled, as she turned to me, regaining her upbeat demeanour. ‘Absolutely, babe. One for me, one for you’. She leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before skipping across the bar to fetch two glasses.
‘What the fuck is your problem, buddy?’ he barked, as he turned to fixate me with a look of apoplectic rage. ‘Sorry, I don’t know who you are, but I ain’t got no problem’, I replied. ‘In fact, I got the opposite of a problem...I’ve got a wallet filled with hundred dollar bills and I’m gonna take that girl home with me later and give her a hot beef injection’. His face flushed with fury as he suddenly lost all composure and cried out ‘Oh Yeah? Well, she’s a fucking slut! I’ve fucked a thousand girls better-looking than her...Do you know who the fuck am?’ the rest of the bar had stepped away from us by now, realising that it might not be the best of ideas to get trapped between a young muscle-hunk and an angry fat guy dressed up like a ninja. His entourage circled around us. ‘Take a hike, bozo’s’, I said calmly. They knew who I was and reluctantly backed off. I leaned in so that I was now face-to-face with him and whispered: ‘ I think you better apologise to her, sir, or I might just have to punch your tits over your shoulders’. He looked startled, aware that he had inadvertently backed himself into a corner he didn’t want to be in. All eyes were now on the both of us. ‘D...do you know what the Japanese is for “way of the harmonious spirit”?’ He spluttered. ‘It’s Aikido…and I was taught it by a grandmaster...over in Japan, so how about we both just cool it, ok? I know how to take a man down using only my chi’. I could see the nervousness in him and decided to push him further. ‘I don’t give a shit about your stupid Japanese grandmaster’, I said. ‘Their flag is actually a pie chart about how many of them are scared of Godzilla, and I’ll quite happily let you know what a nuclear bomb feels like before you fuck off back there again with a broken jaw’. As soon as the words had escaped my mouth he lashed out and grabbed me by the T-shirt as hard as he could. ‘TAKE THAT BACK’, he snarled. ‘Fuckin take it back or I’ll kill you!’ I laughed out loud. ‘Schoolboy error’ I said. ‘I MEAN IT! TAKE IT BACK WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT THE JA’…. Before the words were even out of his mouth I’d reached across to grab him by the hand and immediately bent his fingers back far enough to force him to relinquish his grip and let out a shrill cry of pain. ‘How does it feel to have to play the role of the bad guy for once in one of your own stupid films?’ I asked. ‘Not as much fun when it’s your fingers being broke, is it?’
He struggled to fight the pain and keep composed. Through gritted teeth he answered back: ‘Ok...Ok, look...I’m sorry, just let me go’. On another night I may have obliged, but not this time; not after having had to sit through Under Siege 2: Dark Territory. This fat fuck was getting it. ‘Apologise to the young lady and the rest of the bar’ I called out authoritatively. ‘C’mon, please, I won’t do it’, he whispered. ‘I’m Steven fuckin Seagal, man; just let me go’. Enough was enough. I bent his fingers back as far as they would go, and directed him onto his knees as he let out a cry of pain so loud that the music stopped. You could hear a pin drop. ‘AAAAAAHHH, OK, I’M FUCKING SORRY! I’M FUCKING SORRY, MAN! I DIDN’T MEAN IT’, he screamed. ‘Tell the nightclub you’re an overweight pervert and you’re sorry for making Under Siege 2’, I demanded. ‘IT’S TRUE! IT’S FUCKIN TRUE, OK! I CAN’T STOP STUFFING MY FACE AND MY MOVIES ARE DOGSHIT’. The entire club broke out in laughter and I released my vice-like grip on his fingers. ‘THERE’S YOUR HERO’, I called out to the crowd, pointing at the broken man I now stood over. I leaned over to disrespectfully ruffle his slicked-back hair, then held up my now blackened hand to the crowd. ‘Boot polish!’ I shouted out in disgust. ‘I knew it all along’. I turned my back on the applauding audience as the bodyguards rushed over to drag the defeated fraudster away. ‘Now, how about another drink?’ I asked the barmaid. ‘You got it’, she replied as she rushed on over into my arms. ‘You can have anything you want... Anything’. The night was only just beginning.
(http://www.reactiongifs.com/r/ktpng.gif)
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Didn't read that wall of text.
Why would you bother to type all that out.
::)
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Shut the fuck up. The only Ron you know is the one who also happens to be a clown and work at Mcdonald's with you. I don't reveal my true identity because I used to work for the government. It could put my life in danger. I wouldn't be surprised if Seagal still holds a grudge after all these years, and wants to have me killed, too.
lol, although I could buy a mcdonalds I do not work there.
Why don't you get a life, and stop making shit up, and tell us a real story about your pathetic life.
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(http://simitator.com/images/2017-01-31/sdw7s.jpg)
I knew Biggie very well. He was a great guy - so was Tupac. I wish they would have taken my advice and squashed the beef.
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ohn draw real poor on call my from. May she mrs furnished discourse extremely. Ask doubt noisy shade guest did built her him. Ignorant repeated hastened it do. Consider bachelor he yourself expenses no. Her itself active giving for expect vulgar months. Discovery commanded fat mrs remaining son she principle middleton neglected. Be miss he in post sons held. No tried is defer do money scale rooms.
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Shut the fuck up. The only Ron you know is the one who also happens to be a clown and work at Mcdonald's with you. I don't reveal my true identity because I used to work for the government. It could put my life in danger. I wouldn't be surprised if Seagal still holds a grudge after all these years, and wants to have me killed, too.
:o Oh No -- it's GH(Twat)15 back under a different name... ::)
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TL,DR,FU.
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I have most Steven Seagal movies on disk, and treasure each new release.
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I have most Steven Seagal movies on disk, and treasure each new release.
Even Belly of the Beast?
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Even Belly of the Beast?
movies/action/seagal/seagal-belly-of-beast.avi
Just opened....I think it had some good multi deaths.
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movies/action/seagal/seagal-belly-of-beast.avi
Just opened....I think it had some good multi deaths.
What about Driven to Kill?
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I have most Steven Seagal movies on disk, and treasure each new release.
I wish I could have sent you the straight-to-CCTV copy of your hero getting manhandled in front of a packed Miami nightclub full of Hollywood's A-list. The look on your face would have been priceless. He's nothing like what he tries to portray himself as in the movies - he's a lot shorter in real life and smells like a mixture of AXE deodorant, incense, body-odour and piss.
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I wish I could have sent you the straight-to-CCTV copy of your hero getting manhandled in front of a packed Miami nightclub full of Hollywood's A-list. The look on your face would have been priceless. He's nothing like what he tries to portray himself as in the movies - he's a lot shorter in real life and smells like a mixture of AXE deodorant, incense, body-odour and piss.
Who played the villain in Flight of Fury?
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Who played the villain in Flight of Fury?
I've no idea, I wouldn't watch it if you paid me. Probably some poor bastard that took the role out of sheer desperation. I hope for their sake they were double-jointed, and lacked the sense of smell.
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Hard to Siege and Down By Law were great.
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Only read portions of it...yet I'm strangely aroused. Tell us more.
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he went to a miami club,
cuban door guy hugged him,
Segal wanted expensive liquor , was $500 a glass, got mad ordered heineken
said fellow ordered 2 glasses one for him and one for waitress
segal felt insulted , said the famous "you know who i am" line
said fellow got upset and bent segals finger at the bar until he said mercy
oh and carman diaz has a smelly pussy
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TL,DR,FU.
x2
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thats too long not gonna read that
It's worth the read if you have a minute. I'm curious as to where this gimmick goes from here.
*inserts Michael Jackson popcorn gif...
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During the Mid 90's Cameron Diaz was fucking
Matt Dillon
(http://digitalspyuk.cdnds.net/14/31/768x1066/gallery_cameron-diaz_1.jpg)
the fat fuck pile from Full metal jacket Vincent D' Onofrio
(http://68.media.tumblr.com/2a1235cbac4e579e1e3dc68e78a399d8/tumblr_mwuosn7ELU1sqbdquo1_400.jpg)
and
Carlos De La Torre
(http://static.star-mag.top/pimg/9/15/30/49/@/1693667-cameron-diaz-et-carlos-de-la-torre-lors-810x620-1.jpg)
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I believe this is Meta-Physical
(http://images.onionstatic.com/clickhole/2501/0/animated/original.gif)
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TL,DR,FU.
Yeah, Meta-Physical appears to be quite Meta-faggical.
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Miami Beach in the mid 90’s: a chaotic whirlwind of decadence, vice, and casual encounters with Hollywood stars. I was in my element. At aged 25 and a lean 270lbs, I was an irrepressible mix of sexual energy and reckless courage. A god-blessed combination of brains and brawn had ensured that I had already made a name for myself as a much sought-after bodyguard for the celebrity elite, and as I strolled on up to the most expensive nightclub in town, I caught a glance of my reflection in a car window and afforded myself a moment of immodesty to appreciate the way in which my fitted white Armani T-shirt wrapped around my chiselled arms.
A sharp whistle broke the ambience and snapped me back to reality. It was Carlos, the head doorman. ‘ Yo! Where the hell you been, brother?’ He asked, as he waved me up past the queue and leaned in for a hug-handshake combo. ‘You know me, man’ I said, laughing. ‘I can’t keep track of what day it is with all these girls after me!’ He put his hands on my shoulders and shook me lightly. ‘Please, mayne; you gotta fuckin teach me the ways! Show me how to get that prime pussy I always be seeing you with!’ I muttered something about promising to teach him every trick in the book as I made my way past him to the club’s inner doors. ‘Fucking b-eaner’, I thought to myself. ‘If I’ve got greasy hand prints on the back of my T-shirt now, I’ll take his nose off with a pair of pliers’.
As I made my way through the club and up to the bar I caught a figure out of the corner of my eye waving at me and trying to get my attention. It was Cameron Diaz and I was in no mood to have to listen to more of her shit. I hadn’t bothered to return her calls all last week, and I knew she wanted answers, but I wasn’t about to break her heart and tell her that she had an odour problem ‘downstairs’. She was far enough away for me to act like I hadn’t seen her, and I quickly shielded myself amongst the intermingling mass of bodies that had congregated on the dance floor to arrive at the bar unnoticed. I squeezed up next to a rather portly figure with a ponytail who was trying to get the barmaid’s attention by impatiently waving a $50 around, and noticed the team of bodyguards in close proximity to him, trying hard to look professional with their folded arms and earpieces. ‘Must be fucking amateur-hour’ I laughed to myself. The barmaid resembled a young Jennifer Aniston; my eyes fixated on her small but perfectly shaped breasts as they teasingly jiggled up and down in time with each step she took towards me. She smiled as she realised where my gaze was cast, and brushed past the outstretched arm with the $50 in it to lean in close to me. ‘What can I get you, baby?’ she asked. I could hear the rotund gentleman next to me curse in annoyance, and as I turned to face him I realised exactly who it was: plastic tough-guy and Z-list actor Steven Seagal. I was no fan of his shitty movies but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in case he ever decided to hire a real bodyguard. ‘It’s ok, babe; you can serve this guy first’, I answered back. She gave me a wink and turned to face him. ‘How much is that?’ he snapped, pointing up to the bottle of 1946 Macallan on the top shelf. She hesitated as she observed him impatiently rifling through his wallet, trying to count up his fifties. ‘It’s...It’s 500 bucks a glass, sir’, she said nervously, as she picked it up. He froze. ‘How fucking much?’ He replied, as his body tensed up and nostrils flared. ‘uuuh...500, sir’. He glared at her as he stood motionless for what seemed like an age. He breathed a sigh of capitulation as he bowed his head in shame. ‘Get me a Heineken’, he muttered, dejectedly. His attitude towards the young beauty had irked me, and as she reached up to put the bottle back on the top shelf I called out: ‘Wait...I’ll take two’. ‘You sure?’ she giggled, as she turned to me, regaining her upbeat demeanour. ‘Absolutely, babe. One for me, one for you’. She leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before skipping across the bar to fetch two glasses.
‘What the fuck is your problem, buddy?’ he barked, as he turned to fix me with a look of apoplectic rage. ‘Sorry, I don’t know who you are, but I ain’t got no problem’, I replied. ‘In fact, I got the opposite of a problem...I’ve got a wallet filled with hundred dollar bills and I’m gonna take that girl home with me later and give her a hot beef injection’. His face flushed with fury as he suddenly lost all composure and cried out ‘Oh Yeah? Well, she’s a fucking slut! I’ve fucked a thousand girls better-looking than her...Do you know who the fuck I am?’ the rest of the bar had stepped away from us by now, realising that it might not be the best of ideas to get trapped between a young muscle-hunk and an angry fat guy dressed up like a ninja. His entourage circled around us. ‘Take a hike, bozo’s’, I said calmly. They knew who I was and reluctantly backed off. I leaned in so that I was now face-to-face with him and whispered: ‘ I think you better apologise to her, sir, or I might just have to punch your tits over your shoulders’. He looked startled, aware that he had inadvertently backed himself into a corner he didn’t want to be in. All eyes were now on the both of us. ‘D...do you know what the Japanese is for “way of the harmonious spirit”?’ He spluttered. ‘It’s Aikido…and I was taught it by a grandmaster...over in Japan, so how about we both just cool it, ok? I know how to take a man down using only my chi’. I could see the nervousness in him and decided to push him further. ‘I don’t give a shit about your stupid Japanese grandmaster’, I said. ‘Their flag is actually a pie chart about how many of them are scared of Godzilla, and I’ll quite happily let you know what a nuclear bomb feels like before you fuck off back there again with a broken jaw’. As soon as the words had escaped my mouth he lashed out and grabbed me by the T-shirt as hard as he could. ‘TAKE THAT BACK’, he snarled. ‘Fuckin take it back or I’ll kill you!’ I laughed out loud. ‘Schoolboy error’ I said. ‘I MEAN IT! TAKE IT BACK WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT THE JA’…. Before the words were even out of his mouth I’d reached across to grab him by the hand and immediately bent his fingers back far enough to force him to relinquish his grip and let out a shrill cry of pain. ‘How does it feel to have to play the role of the bad guy for once in one of your own stupid films?’ I asked. ‘Not as much fun when it’s your fingers being broke, is it?’
He struggled to fight the pain and keep composed. Through gritted teeth he answered back: ‘Ok...Ok, look...I’m sorry, just let me go’. On another night I may have obliged, but not this time; not after having had to sit through Under Siege 2: Dark Territory. This fat fuck was getting it. ‘Apologise to the young lady and the rest of the bar’ I called out authoritatively. ‘C’mon, please, I won’t do it’, he whispered. ‘I’m Steven fuckin Seagal, man; just let me go’. Enough was enough. I bent his fingers back as far as they would go, and directed him onto his knees as he let out a cry of pain so loud that the music stopped. You could hear a pin drop. ‘AAAAAAHHH, OK, I’M FUCKING SORRY! I’M FUCKING SORRY, MAN! I DIDN’T MEAN IT’, he screamed. ‘Tell the nightclub you’re an overweight pervert and you’re sorry for making Under Siege 2’, I demanded. ‘IT’S TRUE! IT’S FUCKIN TRUE, OK! I CAN’T STOP STUFFING MY FACE AND MY MOVIES ARE DOGSHIT’. The entire club broke out in laughter and I released my vice-like grip on his fingers. ‘THERE’S YOUR HERO’, I called out to the crowd, pointing at the broken man I now stood over. I leaned over to disrespectfully ruffle his slicked-back hair, then held up my now blackened hand to the crowd. ‘Boot polish!’ I shouted out in disgust. ‘I knew it all along’. I turned my back on the applauding audience as the bodyguards rushed over to drag the defeated fraudster away. ‘Now, how about another drink?’ I asked the barmaid. ‘You got it’, she replied as she rushed on over into my arms. ‘You can have anything you want... Anything’. The night was only just beginning.
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Good story OP, I look forward to future posts of yours 8)
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Seagal would kill u
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So fake. ::)
If the whole club/bar saw this, we would have heard about it years ago.
Here are three true stories.
1. Steven Seagal almost got into it with Sylvester Stallone at a party. Witnesses said Stallone wanted to fight and Seagal chickened out.
2. Gene LeBell, the working actor, stuntman, and Judo legend kicked Seagal's ass on the set of his movie Out for Justice.
Supposedly, Seagal is a real dick to the extras and especially the stuntmen on his movie sets. LeBell called Seagal out. Some say it was due to Seagal bragging that no one had the ability to choke out a fighter of his caliber while others say LeBell had no use for Seagal's overinflated ego and overall a-hole behavior. At this time, Gene was already an old man, but he's an old man you don't want to fuck with. He put Seagal down with a move so brutal and quick that the people who saw it said Seagal shrieked like a woman, lost control of his bowels, and literally shit himself in front of those who witnessed it. The actor/comedian/UFC commentator Joe Rogan loves to tell this story.
3. Jean-Claude Van Damme got knocked semi-conscious by a left-right combination from part-time actor, stuntman, and former celebrity bodyguard Chuck Zito inside Scores strip club in New York.
They were once friends. Zito bodyguarded Van Damme and had a part in his film Hard Target. That night it appears that Van Damme had had a few, noticed Zito was also in the club, and started badmouthing him to those at his table. Van Damme's unflattering comments about his former friend got back to Zito's table. Before the night was over, Zito went over to Van Damme's table to inquire why he was talking shit. Van Damme got up... and went down as quick. Three second TKO in round one. Witnesses said that Van Damme was in and out of consciousness on the floor.
The End.
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The Van Damme story, if true, sounds like a sucker punch on an intoxicated dude. Lame ass move and nothing to be proud of.
So fake. ::)
If the whole club/bar saw this, we would have heard about it years ago.
Here are three true stories.
1. Steven Seagal almost got into it with Sylvester Stallone at a party. Witnesses said Stallone wanted to fight and Seagal chickened out.
2. Gene LeBell, the working actor, stuntman, and Judo legend kicked Seagal's ass on the set of his movie Out for Justice.
Supposedly, Seagal is a real dick to the extras and especially the stuntmen on his movie sets. LeBell called Seagal out. Some say it was due to Seagal bragging that no one had the ability to choke out a fighter of his caliber while others say LeBell had no use for Seagal's overinflated ego and overall a-hole behavior. At this time, Gene was already an old man, but he's an old man you don't want to fuck with. He put Seagal down with a move so brutal and quick that the people who saw it said Seagal shrieked like a woman, lost control of his bowels, and literally shit himself in front of those who witnessed it. The actor/comedian/UFC commentator Joe Rogan loves to tell this story.
3. Jean-Claude Van Damme got knocked semi-conscious by a left-right combination from part-time actor, stuntman, and former celebrity bodyguard Chuck Zito inside Scores strip club in New York.
They were once friends. Zito bodyguarded Van Damme and had a part in his film Hard Target. That night it appears that Van Damme had had a few, noticed Zito was also in the club, and started badmouthing him to those at his table. Van Damme's unflattering comments about his former friend got back to Zito's table. Before the night was over, Zito went over to Van Damme's table to inquire why he was talking shit. Van Damme got up... and went down as quick. Three second TKO in round one. Witnesses said that Van Damme was in and out of consciousness on the floor.
The End.
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Yeah, Meta-Physical appears to be quite Meta-faggical.
:D
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Is this another "Tunza Muscle" gimmick? No, its not GH15, that dude spells like a retarded "BItch Stewey"...
(https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/445337035826814976/BYAmsQ9P.jpeg)
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During the Mid 90's Cameron Diaz was fucking
Matt Dillon
the fat fuck pile from Full metal jacket Vincent D' Onofrio
and
Carlos De La Torre
Yes, She was young and had a rather cavalier disregard for the sanctity of sex. I have to hold my hands up here and accept that I engendered that downward spiral after callously giving her the brush-off without even offering so much as an explanation. It lead to some very deep insecurities and for that, I ask her forgiveness. I actually got into a fight with Matt Dillon not long after she hooked up with him in a futile attempt to make me jealous. Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a fight - more like a one-sided beatdown, but I can't help the fact that he didn't know how to defend himself against a Jeet Kune Do attack.
Good story OP, I look forward to future posts of yours 8)
Thank you. I'm glad someone appreciates my stories - given that the best part about them is they are all 100% true. I'd like to have 5 minutes alone with the losers calling me a liar and a homo after I swore on my son's life! I could tell so many stories about the fights I had with celebrities, but I'd rather talk about my time I spent with Vladimir Putin, and why I decided to throw my war medals in the Hudson River. Now will be a particularly poignant time to tell my story, and I hope it will be cathartic for me. I can't keep living with this pain inside of me.
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I can't keep living with this pain inside of me.
Maybe it's a Toomah? Ask Arnold, next time you kick his ass too.
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Maybe it's a Toomah? Ask Arnold, next time you kick his ass too.
Wow, nice job mocking cancer, the greatest bodybuilder of all-time, and a war hero all in one short sentence. Asshole.
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So you have cancer?
That gives the rest of us hope, for relief from you posting.
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What if non-malignant?
Wow, nice job mocking cancer, the greatest bodybuilder of all-time, and a war hero, all in one short sentence. Asshole.
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So you have cancer?
That gives the rest of us hope, for relief from you posting.
No, you dick. I don't have cancer - but if I did then I would quite easily cure myself with cannabis oil.
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No, you dick. I don't have cancer - but if I did then I would quite easily cure myself with cannabis oil.
Hmmm,now youre talking... I just may listen to this guy after-all. 8)
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No, you dick. I don't have cancer - but if I did then I would quite easily cure myself with BANANA oil.
FIXED!
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sounds like Rambo
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So fake. ::)
If the whole club/bar saw this, we would have heard about it years ago.
Here are three true stories.
1. Steven Seagal almost got into it with Sylvester Stallone at a party. Witnesses said Stallone wanted to fight and Seagal chickened out.
2. Gene LeBell, the working actor, stuntman, and Judo legend kicked Seagal's ass on the set of his movie Out for Justice.
Supposedly, Seagal is a real dick to the extras and especially the stuntmen on his movie sets. LeBell called Seagal out. Some say it was due to Seagal bragging that no one had the ability to choke out a fighter of his caliber while others say LeBell had no use for Seagal's overinflated ego and overall a-hole behavior. At this time, Gene was already an old man, but he's an old man you don't want to fuck with. He put Seagal down with a move so brutal and quick that the people who saw it said Seagal shrieked like a woman, lost control of his bowels, and literally shit himself in front of those who witnessed it. The actor/comedian/UFC commentator Joe Rogan loves to tell this story.
3. Jean-Claude Van Damme got knocked semi-conscious by a left-right combination from part-time actor, stuntman, and former celebrity bodyguard Chuck Zito inside Scores strip club in New York.
They were once friends. Zito bodyguarded Van Damme and had a part in his film Hard Target. That night it appears that Van Damme had had a few, noticed Zito was also in the club, and started badmouthing him to those at his table. Van Damme's unflattering comments about his former friend got back to Zito's table. Before the night was over, Zito went over to Van Damme's table to inquire why he was talking shit. Van Damme got up... and went down as quick. Three second TKO in round one. Witnesses said that Van Damme was in and out of consciousness on the floor.
The End.
Mostly un-true fuk face!
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I heard seagal banged jenny mccarthy
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I liked it, the author is clearly no stranger to Lee Child's Jack Reacher books.
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What happened to onlyme, i forgot about that
He died noob
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(http://img.ffffound.com/static-data/assets/6/0fccb285bac54f12e1e42614ad32ab010cfb7d8d_m.gif)
Lol this cracked me up bigtime!
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He died noob
Damn RIP. Heart attack?
I took a break from getbig, relax noob!
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Mostly un-true fuk face!
I don't think so, cocksmoker.
It is all true.
And there is no hyphen in the word untrue, moron. ::)
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Damn RIP. Heart attack?
I took a break from getbig, relax noob!
;D
Yeah something like a heart attack. He was in bad health for a long time. That spirder-bite made it worse.
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Heard Bass Rutten loves Seagal's bullshit.
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meta-physical
if you post here again I will throw an e-brick at your head through your fucking e-screen
metaphysically speaking
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meta-physical
if you post here again I will throw an e-brick at your head through your fucking e-screen
metaphysically speaking
How about you go find yourself a real brick and repair your dilapidated house with it, you poverty-stricken, Serbian rat.
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