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Tell me you story

Dec 29, 2005
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Stories need to be told

I have been blessed (not Faith-based, a bit more secular and humanistic) over the last few years.

Since I moved back to Iowa, it was my best move ever.

I passed all the background and security checks (despite my notorious past) and found myself working in crowd management, security, and guest services.

Before Coops first season and Kids day. I was working the line and love to engage Iowa folks. I often ask: “How come are you here now?

An elderly gentleman answered me this: “I am here for my Grandson”

I ask: “Who is he?”

“Cooper DeJean, we hope he will get some playing time”

Tell me your story, it does not need to be true or not
 
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Stories need to be told

I have been blessed (not Faith-based, a bit more secular and humanistic) over the last few years.

Since I moved back to Iowa, it was my best move ever.

I passed all the background and security checks (despite my notorious past) and found myself working in crowd management, security, and guest services.

Before Coops first season and Kids day. I was working the line and love to engage Iowa folks. I often ask: “How come are you here now?

An elderly gentleman answered me this: “I am here for my Grandson”

I ask: “Who is he?”

“Cooper DeJean, we hope he will get some playing time”

Tell me your story, it does not need to be true or not
giphy.gif
 
Here’s one of my favorite stories that does not need to be true or not.

I enjoy the Hawkeyes and often go to the Spring Game which is now called Kid’s Day. It’s a great chance to see new players and what we might look like in the fall. A few years ago as I was walking up the tunnel, one of the weird security guys was staring at me the whole way up. I think he was drunk because when I got up to him he tossed this word salad at me “How come are you here now?” I made up some story about being Cooper Dejean’s grandfather even though I’m only 38 years old, but he was so out of it he bought it hook, line and sinker. Crazy times.
 
The details of my life are quite inconsequential.

My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.

My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.

My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets.

When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really.

At the age of 12 I received my first scribe.

At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it's breathtaking, I suggest you try it.
 
Many years ago I was a lifeguard at a local pool. Then I got a job working in a coal mine. After that I went to Africa and helped someone with civil rights. Upon returning to America I became a truck driver.

I sure miss Corn pop. He was a bad dude, but he had a huge heart.
 
I was a warrior from the Land of the Midnight Sun
With a Thompson gun for hire, fighting to be done
The deal was made in Denmark on a dark and stormy day
So I set out for Biafra to join the bloody fray
Through sixty-six and seven we fought the Congo war
With our fingers on our triggers, knee-deep in gore
For days and nights we battled the Bantu to their knees
We killed to earn our living and to help out the Congolese
 
was down in New Orleans over the weekend for a friend’s bachelor party (nolook, if you’re reading this post, you were insulting me for attending the bachelor’s father’s tailgate at the OSU game last fall). There were about 15 guys there, most of them single, so pretty much everybody was looking to get laid. I’m happily married, and have never cheated on my wife, so all I wanted to do was party my ass off.

I got there Friday night at about 10. By 10:30 I was out on Bourbon St with a hurricane in hand. A few minutes later I met the group out at a place called Razoo’s and caught up a bit with 5 shots in 5 minutes – I was way behind. By 1AM I was loaded and had a serious itch for some powder. I wasn’t able to get some in time back home, but at the same time I was pretty leery of trying to make something happen in New Orleans. But who knows, I tell myself – might as well keep my eyes and ears open.

Around 4AM a middle-aged man advertises the fact that he’s selling – exactly the kind of situation I know to be a rip-off waiting to happen. I really wanted it bad though, so I took a chance. After each of us was satisfied that the other wasn’t a cop, we found a secluded spot for the transaction. He took out a magnificent rock of an 8ball and shoved a pebble up my nose. Pretty good stuff – I’m in luck! What happened next was some magnificent kind of slight of hand, because he switched the ball of good stuff with barely a gram of total crap while I was counting out $160, making sure to keep my eyes on his hands. Rats – rolled AGAIN. When will I ever learn?

Good news though – some Mississippi fraternity boys came through for us the next night. They were staying in some rooms next to ours at the Royal Sonesta – we had 2nd floor balcony right on Bourbon. They hooked us up with some really outstanding stuff for a fair price. JACKPOT! We hung around watching the parade until 11 or so, getting really blasted, and then headed out to the bars.

Third stop or so we end up at a place with a nice dance floor. Much to my friends’ delight, the ratio in there is decent – girls in general were kinda sparse all weekend, and all the hotties seemed to have men on their arms. Didn’t matter to me as I was only looking for a good time and a lot of eye candy – neither of which were in short supply. For my friends though it was a major issue, and standards were dropping rapidly, in some cases dramatically. LOL.

Anyway, there were a few bachelorette parties going on in there, one of which was pretty small – only 7 girls. Six of them were freakin outstanding – hot hot hot hot hot hot hot. The problem is, they seem totally into a girls’ night, and are giving guys the Heisman left and right. Even when I was single, I had a gift of coming off as totally harmless and innocent, so I decide to give talking them up a shot.

It worked. Pretty quickly, I was all chatty-chatty with all of them, dancing with all of them, making them laugh. It was great – I loved the attention. I especially loved that all the other guys, including my friends, kept trying, kept trying, and kept getting shot down.

So I keep drinking hard, and keep hitting the bathroom. After a while, the hottest among the group starts getting a little touchy with me and asks if I like to party. “That’s a silly question,” I tell her, and explain the details of my situation. She wants to leave right away.

At this point I have no intention whatsoever of cheating on my wife, but am just loving all the attention I’m getting from this ridiculously, truly ridiculously hot girl, so I think to myself, “What’s the harm in hanging out with her a while?” I figure that her friends probably wouldn’t let her go anyway, but if they did, it would be a tremendous ego boost if this girl tries to get on me. And did I mention how much of a great time I’m having? These girls aren’t just hot – they’re a lot of fun too. And this one is the best among them.
 
Much to my shock, the bachelorette and her friends let the hottest one go with me, saying right in front of me, “Now normally there’s no way we’d split up our group, but we can tell you’re a really nice guy, so be nice and be sure to have her back soon.”

Not a problem, I tell them, but just as we’re walking out the door, I hear a “Hey _____ - get back here!” I’ll spare you the long and boring details of all the drama, but basically one of the bridesmaids had disappeared, and no one knew where she was. The others weren’t going to let us go now, they decided, which I really didn’t mind. Safer that way, and I was having a great time there anyway.

After a while, all the girls, but especially the bachelorette, started getting really freaked out about their missing friend, and they really had no idea what to do. Making phone calls and deliberating about it forever, they considered doing things that would only have made matters worse. Eventually I stepped in to take control of the situation, and put together a plan to find the missing girl without splitting up their group. I was pretty concerned about her too, and thought about how many girls were going to be raped that evening in NO. Pretty sobering thought. Luckily, she wasn’t one of them, as we found her a few blocks away about a half hour later, and she was fine.

When we found her, the b-ette was pissed – for a while, I thought they were going to come to blows. Eventually she’s just like “* this – I’m getting out of here – you coming, Chicago?” (Chicago is me). The hottest one pulls the b-ette aside and tells her about the coke. Totally sober at this point (her friend was missing for hours), her eyes freakin lit up – “OOOOOO – let’s go!!” and me, the b-ette, and the hottest head back to their hotel room.

Up to that point, I hadn’t really noticed the b-ette much. Her face was kind of goofy, and she had all kinds of stupid costuming on over her clothes. When she took that stuff off, it turned out that she has a 10 body too. Not relatively speaking, not beergoggles, no BS – solid 99th percentile both of them body wise, and the hottest is just freakin gorgeous head to toe, with probably the best legs I’ve ever seen.

We got back to their hotel room and dug in – these girls can really party! Much to my delight, the b-ette’s behavior started to change dramatically. She started flirting with me, touching me, and giving me some of the hardest “* me” eyes I’ve ever seen. The hottest was following suit, and I was just totally loving it, playing it cool the entire time, because I had no intention of trying anything. After a while, they started playing this weird game, each seemingly trying to get rid of the other under the guise of normality. A lot of “Are you sure you don’t just want to go to sleep?” or “nyc_hawk, are you hungry – we could go get something to eat – oh ____, you want to go too? I thought you weren’t hungry?” – stuff like that – it went on for hours.

Fearing a serious malfunction of my willpower (it’s almost 7AM and I’m still really blasted), I suggest that we go swimming back at my hotel. I figure that way is a lot safer than sticking around there, plus I’d get them both essentially naked in wet lacey underwear. That would have been a very nice end to the best night out I’ve had in ages. After a lot of the same back and forth games, they agree on my idea.

We’re riding the elevator down, and the hottest rests herself on my shoulders, starts breathing really lustily on my neck, and asks the b-ette, “____, are you sure you want to go?”

The b-ette then leans over my other side, runs her hand over my chest, and says very sweetly, and sorta moaningly, “Umm-hmmm, definitely.” What happened next is really hard to describe, but it resulted in a complete implosion of my willpower, an instant erection, and a U-turn back upstairs. Making an already way too long story very, very short:

Had a threesome. Full sex and oral with both of them, often at the same time. I thought it would be really awkward, but it wasn’t. It was freakin beautiful. Took over 4 hours, came three times, and could have gone four. I was more aroused than I’ve ever been in my entire life - and I was blasted out of my mind. Am I that easy? In a word – no.

Both of them were 21yr old college seniors. Hottest = current SEC cheerleader, and former Miss Teen _______ in her home state. B-ette = 10x better in bed, and a pair of absolutely spectacular, perky, natural D breasts to go along with her perfect tight little body.

100% of this story is true. No BS or fabrication whatsoever. Three morals to it:

1. No matter how much you’re tempted, never buy drugs from a – wait, screw it. I’ll say it, because I’ve never rolled by a white guy - never buy drugs from a black guy on the street. I’ve been rolled each and every time I’ve tried. It’s like 7 times now – you’d think I’d learn my lesson, huh? I’m sure there are plenty of white scammers out there too, but I’ve never run into one. They've all come through for me. If generalizing based on these experiences makes me a racist than so be it. I don't think it does.

2. Say what you will about fraternity guys, but they pretty much always have the best drugs. Those Mississippi guys had a freakin medicine chest of top quality stuff.

3. Never, ever, ever ever ever underestimate the amazing powers of the magic white powder. Sure, I’m good-looking, and I still have some game in me (I’m 30), but come on – this one was pure luck. It never, ever, ever ever ever would have happened without the white stuff around to help those girls (and me) abandon decent judgment and do crazy stuff we otherwise wouldn’t. I feel terrible about it in retrospect, and would definitely go back and change things if I could. But I can’t, and if a threesome with two incredibly hot college girls when I’m 30 is my only case of marital infidelity, I can live with that.

My advice to all you single guys out there – if you find a girl who likes to party (and you do too of course), stay engaged in the situation. Stay committed even if things look bleak. Things have a way of working themselves out when coke is in the equation – it buys you a lot of time. Look at me – I never even remotely sniffed anything like this when I was searching for it practically 24x7 and much better looking, I wasn’t even trying to score this weekend, and I ended up in a freakin Penthouse Letter from 7-10:30 on a Sunday morning.

I'd provide a pic in a heartbeat but I promised not to reveal anything about them that could reveal their identities to people they know. HROT gets a fair amount of traffic from SEC posters - you never know.
 
Here’s one of my favorite stories that does not need to be true or not.

I enjoy the Hawkeyes and often go to the Spring Game which is now called Kid’s Day. It’s a great chance to see new players and what we might look like in the fall. A few years ago as I was walking up the tunnel, one of the weird security guys was staring at me the whole way up. I think he was drunk because when I got up to him he tossed this word salad at me “How come are you here now?” I made up some story about being Cooper Dejean’s grandfather even though I’m only 38 years old, but he was so out of it he bought it hook, line and sinker. Crazy times.
You're only 38 years old and stuck on an E-bike??! Are you a fatass, or are those tootsies really that bad?
 
In '82, when times were hard,
I carried a sawed off shotgun and a deck of cards.
Wore and old vest and a turned down hat,
I was a mean muther fvcker you can bet on that.

One night I came home from working late
And my wife had locked me out in the cold.
I said " what's the matter bitch?"
She said " our love has grown old."

So I took me a walk down to Rampart Street,
That's where all the meanest muther fvckers meet.
I waded through the piss and stomped through the mud,
Till I came to a bar called " The Bucket of Blood."

I walked in and order me a beer.
The bartender set it down with a splash.
" Appears you don't know who I am..."
" No, and I don't give a good goddamn."

Moments later I laid him to rest,
Two of my bullets through his goddamn chest.
I grabbed the barmaid and went upstairs, started to fvck.
I was hauling it home like a ten ton truck.

All of a sudden it got quiet as a mouse.
@Hawki97 had peddled into the house.
He looked at the dead bartender,
Then looked at me, " who the killer of this good man be? "

I said, T'was me, muther fvcker, me.
I don't see no chain round you, and I'm here to play.
So bring it on home,
They call me @Here_4_a_Day

Well twelve jurors went out like a straight hard flow of piss.
One said, " give him gas..."
Another said, " shove lightning up his ass..."
This tale may or may not be true.

But if I catch you at the HORT fight bar.
You'll be dead too...
 
Last edited:
Out in the West Texas town of El Paso
I fell in love with a Mexican girl
Nighttime would find me in Rosa's cantina
Music would play and Felina would whirl

Blacker than night were the eyes of Felina
Wicked and evil while casting a spell
My love was deep for this Mexican maiden
I was in love, but in vain I could tell

One night, a wild young cowboy came in
Wild as the West Texas wind
Dashing and daring, a drink he was sharing
With wicked Felina, the girl that I loved
So in anger

I challenged his right for the love of this maiden
Down went his hand for the gun that he wore
My challenge was answered in less than a heartbeat
The handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor

Just for a moment, I stood there in silence
Shocked by the foul evil deed I had done
Many thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there
I had but one chance and that was to run

Out through the back door of Rosa's I ran
Out where the horses were tied
I caught a good one, it looked like it could run
Up on its back and away I did ride
Just as fast as I

Could from the West Texas town of El Paso
Out to the badlands of New Mexico

Back in El Paso, my life would be worthless
Everything's gone in life, nothing is left
It's been so long since I've seen the young maiden
My love is stronger than my fear of death

I saddled up and away I did go
Riding alone in the dark
Maybe tomorrow, a bullet may find me
Tonight nothing's worse than this pain in my heart

And at last here I am on the hill, overlooking El Paso
I can see Rosa's cantina below
My love is strong and it pushes me onward
Down off the hill to Felina I go

Off to my right I see five mounted cowboys
Off to my left ride a dozen or more
Shouting and shooting, I can't let them catch me
I have to make it to Rosa's back door

Something is dreadfully wrong, for I feel
A deep burning pain in my side
Though I am trying to stay in the saddle
I'm getting weary, unable to ride

But my love for Felina is strong and I rise where I've fallen
Though I am weary, I can't stop to rest
I see the white puff of smoke from the rifle
I feel the bullet go deep in my chest

From out of nowhere Felina has found me
Kissing my cheek as she kneels by my side
Cradled by two loving arms that I'll die for
One little kiss and Felina, goodbye
 
Stories need to be told

I have been blessed (not Faith-based, a bit more secular and humanistic) over the last few years.

Since I moved back to Iowa, it was my best move ever.

I passed all the background and security checks (despite my notorious past) and found myself working in crowd management, security, and guest services.

Before Coops first season and Kids day. I was working the line and love to engage Iowa folks. I often ask: “How come are you here now?

An elderly gentleman answered me this: “I am here for my Grandson”

I ask: “Who is he?”

“Cooper DeJean, we hope he will get some playing time”

Tell me your story, it does not need to be true or not
As a respected military leader, I was seen as quite influential and valuable. So valuable, that our leader wanted to make me leader after his death. Angered by this, our leader’s son conspired to kill his father, and he asked for my fealty. After not conspiring with our leader’s son, my family was murdered and they tried to murder me. I escaped, but was wounded and gathered up by slave traders in a foreign land.

I was plotting my revenge to work my way up through the ranks of the slaves to confront the new false leader, when the head of the prison discovered I was a wizard with tax avoidance. I helped the prison warden with his taxes, and his underlings, to gain their trust. Which I did. While I bartered my services for seemingly innocuous tools to fashion game pieces, I used them to slowly burrow out of the prison inch by inch. When I made it out, I fled to what I thought was Mexico.

However, my plane landed in Egypt, where attempts were made on my life. You see, prior to being a highly decorated military leader, and prior to me obtaining my accounting license, I daylighted as a college history professor but moonlighted as a hunter of artifacts and relics. My life’s work coincided with a new dig underway, and I actually found the greatest relic known to man. After many people died, the relic ended up in a national museum, and I went back to my life as a professor. That is, that is what I did before going on an adventure to find the second greatest relic of all time. That is a tale for another day.
 
Stories need to be told

I have been blessed (not Faith-based, a bit more secular and humanistic) over the last few years.

Since I moved back to Iowa, it was my best move ever.

I passed all the background and security checks (despite my notorious past) and found myself working in crowd management, security, and guest services.

Before Coops first season and Kids day. I was working the line and love to engage Iowa folks. I often ask: “How come are you here now?

An elderly gentleman answered me this: “I am here for my Grandson”

I ask: “Who is he?”

“Cooper DeJean, we hope he will get some playing time”

Tell me your story, it does not need to be true or not
Tom Cruise What GIF
 
Here’s one of my favorite stories that does not need to be true or not.

I enjoy the Hawkeyes and often go to the Spring Game which is now called Kid’s Day. It’s a great chance to see new players and what we might look like in the fall. A few years ago as I was walking up the tunnel, one of the weird security guys was staring at me the whole way up. I think he was drunk because when I got up to him he tossed this word salad at me “How come are you here now?” I made up some story about being Cooper Dejean’s grandfather even though I’m only 38 years old, but he was so out of it he bought it hook, line and sinker. Crazy times.
When the hawks made the orange bowl in 2002-2003, I figured I would drive on down to Miami from Austin TX. Got to see many parts of Florida, Destin was my favorite. Anywhos, I get a hotel near Ft. Lauderdale and I the night before I go to the hawkeye huddle and all is well. I get some tickets from a scalper outside the stadium. The scalpers were riding around on ten speed bikes, I later noticed them outside my hotel in a big white van,. they said they were from Pennsylvania and were traveling, staying in my same hotel. Anywhos further, when I show up to the stadium, the girls taking the tickets, they rip them in half and gave me the other stub. before the scanners came about. well, she gave me the wrong part of the stub, I had no seat number. So I did the right thing and headed for hawkeye black and gold jerseys. The usc folks were kind of scarce compared with the hawks. turns out it was the hawkeye student section, and they all started booing me, telling me to leave!! drunken jerks all around!! how did they know I wasn't a student? other than I was in my 30's!! but I'm a hawkeye fan!! I went and found a seat with older middle aged folks. in time for the opening kick, CJ Jones to the house!!!
 
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When the hawks made the orange bowl in 2002-2003, I figured I would drive on down to Miami from Austin TX. Got to see many parts of Florida, Destin was my favorite. Anywhos, I get a hotel near Ft. Lauderdale and I the night before I go to the hawkeye huddle and all is well. I get some tickets from a scalper outside the stadium. The scalpers were riding around on ten speed bikes, I later noticed them outside my hotel in a big white van,. they said they were from Pennsylvania and were traveling, staying in my same hotel. Anywhos further, when I show up to the stadium, the girls taking the tickets, they rip them in half and gave me the other stub. before the scanners came about. well, she gave me the wrong part of the stub, I had no seat number. So I did the right thing and headed for hawkeye black and gold jerseys. The usc folks were kind of scarce compared with the hawks. turns out it was the hawkeye student section, and they all started booing me, telling me to leave!! drunken jerks all around!! how did they know I wasn't a student? other than I was in my 30's!! but I'm a hawkeye fan!! I went and found a seat with older middle aged folks. in time for the opening kick, CJ Jones to the house!!!

I doubt they were booing you because of your age.
 
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Stories need to be told

I have been blessed (not Faith-based, a bit more secular and humanistic) over the last few years.

Since I moved back to Iowa, it was my best move ever.

I passed all the background and security checks (despite my notorious past) and found myself working in crowd management, security, and guest services.

Before Coops first season and Kids day. I was working the line and love to engage Iowa folks. I often ask: “How come are you here now?

An elderly gentleman answered me this: “I am here for my Grandson”

I ask: “Who is he?”

“Cooper DeJean, we hope he will get some playing time”

Tell me your story, it does not need to be true or not
Journaling Dear Diary GIF by Ryn Dean
 
When the hawks made the orange bowl in 2002-2003, I figured I would drive on down to Miami from Austin TX. Got to see many parts of Florida, Destin was my favorite. Anywhos, I get a hotel near Ft. Lauderdale and I the night before I go to the hawkeye huddle and all is well. I get some tickets from a scalper outside the stadium. The scalpers were riding around on ten speed bikes, I later noticed them outside my hotel in a big white van,. they said they were from Pennsylvania and were traveling, staying in my same hotel. Anywhos further, when I show up to the stadium, the girls taking the tickets, they rip them in half and gave me the other stub. before the scanners came about. well, she gave me the wrong part of the stub, I had no seat number. So I did the right thing and headed for hawkeye black and gold jerseys. The usc folks were kind of scarce compared with the hawks. turns out it was the hawkeye student section, and they all started booing me, telling me to leave!! drunken jerks all around!! how did they know I wasn't a student? other than I was in my 30's!! but I'm a hawkeye fan!! I went and found a seat with older middle aged folks. in time for the opening kick, CJ Jones to the house!!!
That game was not good, clean fun. We sat in the end zone where CJ fielded the opening kick. We tailgated waaaaaayyyyyy too hard for waaaaaayyyyy too long. When CJ housed that, beers were chucked all over the place. I supposed we could have acted like we had been there before, but we hadn’t. My brother ended up getting kicked out, our wives were furious with us, and we tried to fight some kids after the game. Can’t speak for all Iowa fans, but we acted like complete assholes.
 
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