Random tales from my life.....

[Simple Simon]

Who is Steven Hawkins? Are you referring to my (sort of) cousin, Steven Hawkings?

This man

His name is Hawking, no s

[Primemuscle]

His name is Hawking, no s

Right....you got me. 

[falco]

    In my days of bullfighting, i moved to Spain, because here in Portugal bulls use padding in the horns (not hardcore enough).
    One day, one of the bulls horn perfurated my quad, right in my injection site, and, in anger, i killed the bull with my own hands. I was 300lbs with abs in those days.
    When i got to the hospital, doctors told me i was very lucky because the horn didn't hit any major arterie, and even drained a cyst i had, from bad gear, filled with puss.
    Strangest coincidence, after surgery, i found myself sharing the hospital room with Antonio Banderas, who was there recovering from an anal fistula surgery.
    Within a week, the entire hospital was out of morphine, because i was using so much, due to my superman like tolerance to meds. I begg them for Advil, but they said it was very dangerous, i could get permanent kidney failure.
    After leaving the hospital, i settled in Madrid, where i started training Paco Bautista, that would later become a Pro.
   
   

[Kwon]

    In my days of bullfighting, i moved to Spain, because here in Portugal bulls use padding in the horns (not hardcore enough).
    One day, one of the bulls horn perfurated my quad, right in my injection site, and, in anger, i killed the bull with my own hands. I was 300lbs with abs in those days.
    When i got to the hospital, doctors told me i was very lucky because the horn didn't hit any major arterie, and even drained a cyst i had, from bad gear, filled with puss.
    Strangest coincidence, after surgery, i found myself sharing the hospital room with Antonio Banderas, who was there recovering from an anal fistula surgery.
    Within a week, the entire hospital was out of morphine, because i was using so much, due to my superman like tolerance to meds. I begg them for Advil, but they said it was very dangerous, i could get permanent kidney failure.
    After leaving the hospital, i settled in Madrid, where i started training Paco Bautista, that would later become a Pro.
   
   

Hi Steven Seagal.

[sceagacros]

I still have very fond memories of growing up as an orphaned beggar on the dangerous, crime infested streets of Calcutta. Sometimes the other beggar boys would beat me and steal the few rupees I had managed to collect from merciful tourists, leaving me bloody and destitute. I would often pray to Indra, king of the Gods that he would send someone to teach me to fight - pleading with the deity for hours until my eyes were red from tears.

One blessed day I was arrested for shoplifting mangos at the market and thrown into a damp underground jail. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting of the cell, I noticed an American man in the corner of the cell with a large handi-capped tiger tattoo, as our eyes met across the concrete tiles - I knew that Indra had heard my pleas. The 2 hours I spent in that cell with the American were all it took for him to train me in 4 different combat styles and add 2 inches to my biceps.

When the jailor came he set free a completely different man , I went on to compete and win the Mr. Homeless Calcutta competition the very next day, raping my competition from every angle. I quit my job as a street urchin/ beggar and started selling home cooked steroids for my jail mentor who had moved back to the United States and trained Hollywood movie stars in-between posting on getbig and handling disrespect.

 I often reflect on the knowledge entrusted to me that day, information about correctly combining opiates and benzos , the proper methods of heroin filtration and how to tell if a Tijuana hooker has AIDS from her pussy's taste - and I smile, imagining how it will be to pass the secret wisdom on to my children (Indra willing) ...

I am thankful for my jail friend from America and all he did for me - even though he was quite rude to every one else in the cell , even family......

[Simple Simon]

I still have very fond memories of growing up as an orphaned beggar on the dangerous, crime infested streets of Calcutta. Sometimes the other beggar boys would beat me and steal the few rupees I had managed to collect from merciful tourists, leaving me bloody and destitute. I would often pray to Indra, king of the Gods that he would send someone to teach me to fight - pleading with the deity for hours until my eyes were red from tears.

One blessed day I was arrested for shoplifting mangos at the market and thrown into a damp underground jail. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting of the cell, I noticed an American man in the corner of the cell with a large handi-capped tiger tattoo, as our eyes met across the concrete tiles - I knew that Indra had heard my pleas. The 2 hours I spent in that cell with the American were all it took for him to train me in 4 different combat styles and add 2 inches to my biceps.

When the jailor came he set free a completely different man , I went on to compete and win the Mr. Homeless Calcutta competition the very next day, raping my competition from every angle. I quit my job as a street urchin/ beggar and started selling home cooked steroids for my jail mentor who had moved back to the United States and trained Hollywood movie stars in-between posting on getbig and handling disrespect.

 I often reflect on the knowledge entrusted to me that day, information about correctly combining opiates and benzos , the proper methods of heroin filtration and how to tell if a Tijuana hooker has AIDS from her pussy's taste - and I smile, imagining how it will be to pass the secret wisdom on to my children (Indra willing) ...

I am thankful for my jail friend from America and all he did for me - even though he was quite rude to every one else in the cell , even family......

best one yet, kudos..

[che]

I still have very fond memories of growing up as an orphaned beggar on the dangerous, crime infested streets of Calcutta. Sometimes the other beggar boys would beat me and steal the few rupees I had managed to collect from merciful tourists, leaving me bloody and destitute. I would often pray to Indra, king of the Gods that he would send someone to teach me to fight - pleading with the deity for hours until my eyes were red from tears.

One blessed day I was arrested for shoplifting mangos at the market and thrown into a damp underground jail. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting of the cell, I noticed an American man in the corner of the cell with a large handi-capped tiger tattoo, as our eyes met across the concrete tiles - I knew that Indra had heard my pleas. The 2 hours I spent in that cell with the American were all it took for him to train me in 4 different combat styles and add 2 inches to my biceps.

When the jailor came he set free a completely different man , I went on to compete and win the Mr. Homeless Calcutta competition the very next day, raping my competition from every angle. I quit my job as a street urchin/ beggar and started selling home cooked steroids for my jail mentor who had moved back to the United States and trained Hollywood movie stars in-between posting on getbig and handling disrespect.

 I often reflect on the knowledge entrusted to me that day, information about correctly combining opiates and benzos , the proper methods of heroin filtration and how to tell if a Tijuana hooker has AIDS from her pussy's taste - and I smile, imagining how it will be to pass the secret wisdom on to my children (Indra willing) ...

I am thankful for my jail friend from America and all he did for me - even though he was quite rude to every one else in the cell , even family......

 

[LanceD]

glad you didn't count to 21

[NelsonMuntz]

I still have very fond memories of growing up as an orphaned beggar on the dangerous, crime infested streets of Calcutta. Sometimes the other beggar boys would beat me and steal the few rupees I had managed to collect from merciful tourists, leaving me bloody and destitute. I would often pray to Indra, king of the Gods that he would send someone to teach me to fight - pleading with the deity for hours until my eyes were red from tears.

One blessed day I was arrested for shoplifting mangos at the market and thrown into a damp underground jail. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting of the cell, I noticed an American man in the corner of the cell with a large handi-capped tiger tattoo, as our eyes met across the concrete tiles - I knew that Indra had heard my pleas. The 2 hours I spent in that cell with the American were all it took for him to train me in 4 different combat styles and add 2 inches to my biceps.

When the jailor came he set free a completely different man , I went on to compete and win the Mr. Homeless Calcutta competition the very next day, raping my competition from every angle. I quit my job as a street urchin/ beggar and started selling home cooked steroids for my jail mentor who had moved back to the United States and trained Hollywood movie stars in-between posting on getbig and handling disrespect.

 I often reflect on the knowledge entrusted to me that day, information about correctly combining opiates and benzos , the proper methods of heroin filtration and how to tell if a Tijuana hooker has AIDS from her pussy's taste - and I smile, imagining how it will be to pass the secret wisdom on to my children (Indra willing) ...

I am thankful for my jail friend from America and all he did for me - even though he was quite rude to every one else in the cell , even family......