My buddy's birthday is rolling around, so I've been trying to come up with something interesting and cheap for all of us to do in celebration of his special day. Emphasis on the cheap. We're all broke around these parts, as are most folks, so keeping the dead presidents in my pocket is a must.
After a session of soul-searching- a.k.a beer guzzling and Everglading- it was decided that we'd go to Epcot and drink around the world. What says "Happy Birthday" better to a beer lover than stumbling around the happiest place on earth in search of a Mickey to punch?
So there it was, a weekend celebration involving booze and a road trip. The challenge then became to make it cheap. Lord knows that buying anything at Epcot is wallet-murder, especially the ticket to the park. I'm surprised Disney hasn't found a way to charge you for the air you breathe in the park, but I digress...
My fiancee did some research and, Lo and Behold, the interwebs had the answer. As usual.
It turns out that Disney is sponsoring this promotion where you can donate your time to some local volunteer organization in exchange for a ticket to a Disney Park.
Done and Done.
Since the tickets take a while to process, we needed to get this done fast, so we signed up for the first opportunity available: picking up trash with the City of Miami last Saturday from 9am to 12pm. I can think of better ways to spend my Saturday morning, but since I want to drink around the world and not pay the park's admission, you better believe I'll be picking up trash at 9am.
Saturday rolls around and my buddy, fiancee, and I pile into the car and head over to the 836's Le Jeune South exit, right next to the Miami Princess Hotel. We step out of the car with thoughts of pounding a pint in England or knocking back a flight of tequila in Mexico and are met with this:
As you can see, the area's not the most logical place to pick up trash; it's an empty lot right off the friggin highway. Not to mention that crackheads and hookers and crackhead-hookers roam this area in packs, even at 9 am. I figured we'd be working in a location where our trash-collecting efforts would be visible, somewhere that we'd make a visible difference, but, after all, this is the City of Miami we're talking about.
This project made no sense- picking up trash by the expressway exit next to the Miami Princess Hotel is like wiping your butt with used toilet paper: pointless and dangerous. But there were free tickets to drink around the world at stake, so we ventured forward.
We met the group coordinators and were issued garbage bags and gloves. I went over and said, "what up" to the only other volunteers there. They were both high school seniors. She was the petite, peppy cheerleader, and he was the fat, awkward best friend who wanted to be her boyfriend but would never get the chance 'cause she'd date the bad boy type all through college. Tragic. Flashes of Ryan Reynolds and Amy Smart in "Just Friends" popped into my head as he took off his glove to shake my hand.
"Hey there," he said, introducing himself, "I'm Kevin!" His second chin jiggled ever so softly. He did his best to give me a firm handshake, but it was a dead fish. Right off the bat I knew he was probably a nice kid, but he was too eager to please, desperately wanting to be liked.
This kid doesn't know he's gay yet, I thought.
"Sup," I replied, "I'm Dirty."
"Huh," he asked. "No you're not, silly! That shirt is white as the clouds." Definitely gay. My gay friends in Boston would love this kid.
"No," I said, shielding my eyes from the sun, trying not to sound impatient, "my name is Dirty." He did this weird thing with this lips- as if he thought he might be in danger- where he was pulling them back and pursing them at the same time so that his pruny lips formed a raggedy circle around his teeth. It looked like a fleshy volcano had sprouted on his lower face. Just then, my buddy and fiancee rolled up, so I introduced them to Closet Kev.
"This is Man-Ram," I said, pointing over my right shoulder. Kevo's butthole lips relaxed, spreading into a smile too big for his face, exposing his yellow teeth. It was the same smile he'd given me two seconds ago.
"Hi, I'm Kevin," he said, extending his hand to my buddy. Man-Ram nodded and gave Closet Kev a real handshake. He retrieved his withered hand before turning, hesitantly, to my fiancee.
"And this is Mel," I said, pointing over my left shoulder. She shook his hand and smiled at him. He instantly recovered from having his perk bruised by Man-Ram at the sight of her smile. She has that effect on people. She's an angel who walks on clouds, not 'cause I love her, but because that's her personality. She's literally the softest, nicest, most patient person I've ever met, and she's got a way of quelling unpleasant emotions.
Just then, Man-Ram spotted the blond hiding behind Kevo's ample frame. She'd stepped out of his shadow to introduce herself to Mel.
She then turned to Man-Ram and said hi. She fluttered her eyelashes and held his hand long enough for everyone to realize that she was flirting. Poor girl. And poor Kevo. His wannabe girlfriend was doneski. Man-Ram would commit all sorts of sexual atrocities to her right then and there if she didn't put those flirty eyes away.
Mel and I took that as our cue to pick up some trash and earn our Disney tickets. I motioned for Kevin to head out into the trash collecting area, and he did, very hesitantly, but kept casting glances at Man-Ram and the blonde.
As Mel and I collected beer cans and hub caps, we made small talk with the city workers who were on hand to supposedly help us out. It turned out they were there to school us on garbage collecting techniques and offer moral support- they weren't doing much.
So there we were, with the sun beating down and cars whizzing by, trying to pick up piles of trash that never seemed to shrink. When Man-Ram and Bethany, that was the blond's name, rejoined the garbage collecting party, I noticed she was walking funny. No surprise there.
Eventually, garbage collecting became a game. The point of the game was to see who could collect the widest assortment of crap. For example, my bag had several beer bottles, beer cans, and newspapers, like everyone else's, but I had a hubcap and a a syringe with no needle.
Man-Ram had a few interesting items, and had a strong case for best bag because of the collection of Mango Juice bottles, so I was on the lookout for that one piece of trash that would make me the clear victor. It didn't take long for me to find this, the reason for my victory:
No, that is not my wang, but it is a wang. A huge wang, at that. It was as long as my forearm, and just as thick. And it was mad heavy!
All hell broke loose at the sight of my penile discovery. All of the city workers came over and began taking pictures with it. Needless to say, all garbage collecting stopped as we stood around laughing at my discovery.
When Man-Ram spotted the powerhouse penis, his first words were, "Merry Christmas, Kevin." Kevin did not react, but he didn't take his beady eyes off the Beef Bayonet as I waved it around. Man-Ram would later say that Closet Kev was probably hoping to be stabbed by the meat-sword, but I also noticed that Wanda, the only female city worker, was eying the rubber rocket with palpable intensity. Maybe they would fight to the death for the fleshy hard-on's affection. Having the two of them fight for the right to play that skin-flute would be interesting, but we were stopping traffic with the Spam Ram, so after a while, we decided to keep moving.
However, that doesn't mean we stopped talking about the Heat Seeking Moisture Missile. Oh, no. We continued to take pictures with it, prop it up in different poses, and throw it around. I even named it: Sir Wobbles of Dildonia the XXIV (you know, 'cause it was like 24 inches long).
We even did a bit of crime scene investigating and deduced (my dear Watson) that the murder weapon was thrown out of one of the hotels windows for some reason. Perhaps it was indeed used to murder someone and was flung out the window in an attempt to get rid of the weapon. I can only imagine what would possess someone to use this thing on themselves, or someone else (it seemed too huge and thick to be pleasurable), but I was really baffled by the cause that made "penis out the window" its effect. I seriously considered putting up signs saying, "Huge Dildo Found" in an attempt to reunite the lonely rubber python with its owner, but thought better of it.
Before we knew it, we'd met our trash quota, signed some papers, and were headed home. We hit the 836 and laughed about that fact that we were going to have to toast to the huge rubber dildo when we were in Epcot, drinking ourselves into oblivion. It also dawned on us that Wanda and Kevin were nowhere to be found as we drove off. The huge Mutton Dagger was missing too. Somewhere in the vicinity of the Miami Princess Hotel, the battle for Wobbles rages.
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