Yuppie Douchebag Chronicles (Vol. 2) - Mid Summer Report
Nantucket, MA - What’s happenin’, my inferior brethren? Just thought I’d let you know how old YD’s summer’s been so far- how’s yours? I hear Newark is lovely this time of year…Yours Truly has been on the oh so reliable East Coast Circuit for most of the summer. Oh, the usual weddings, banged the occasional bridesmaid- one behind the catering tent at Mid-Ocean in Bermuda, but that’s only part of the story.
Y’see, Chaps like me tend to follow a certain path the way birds fly south for the winter. Watch, you’ll notice an island pattern: Come May Two-four, every year, it’s a safe bet Frog, Four Star, Charlie-cat and the rest of the deep-sea fishing crowd will have the blenders fired and the Dark and Stormys coming in like a full gale. The free drinks and the Bacardi chicks at the weigh in of the Bermuda Classic marlin tournament are worth the price of airfare alone. It’s like you’re Hemingway without the urge to write!
Around Memorial Day, The eastern end of Long Island tends to fill up with the usual suspects. The fish start running again, and the offspring of the founders of NYSE listed companies bearing their names begin to move north. The bars run out of Heineken, and the drug dealers from the city can’t drive fast enough to satisfy our appetites. Independence Day holds special meaning for these people, in that they feel that their ancestors largely founded this country, and that it was the wave of immigrants that spoiled it for everyone. This is Home to a certain faction of the tribe, including yours truly. It is in this local that our Episode of the Summer So Far took place.
As Mummy and Daddy travel most of the year, YD had the place to himself yet again. The boat was gassed up, the cooler packed with beer, the tackle in place (literally and figuratively). My boys Chad and Chip tell me to meet them at Conscience Point, right? That joint where that Jewish broad mowed over all those suckers in line? So I go to meet ‘em at like 10 o’clock, line of the usual losers out the door (Yeah, cheesedick, I saw you there in line and didn’t let you tag along, got a problem with that?).
Anyway, I roll in past Jamal the Eight Foot Bouncer with a wink and a nod, say hello to some chump who owes me commissions from a deal we did like fucking a year ago (he’s damn lucky I don’t have the time to go after 20 grand), order a beer and fuckin’- a if I didn’t run woody- first into my prom dates little sister! She wanted me when she was like fuckin’ EIGHT when I picked her sister up to pop HER cherry. I mean, talk about your groundwork already laid for ya. She bummed a smoke and told me how weird it was to run into me there, and did I have ‘any interest in a little booger sugar’? I mean, this little tramp had a better chance getting away from Leo DiCaprio with a fistful of X!
I damn near fell down and thanked God like an NFL receiver in the end zone right then and there. A moment later we’re in the unisex bathrooms, and she pulls out a fold the size of my head! Fumbling through her tiny purse, she pulls out the keys to her Hummer. “You drive a Hummer?” I say.“Yeah, I got it ‘cause they have the fattest keys to do bumpies off of- plus I really like the name.” she replies casually, handing me the bindle.
Needless to say, the story gets better from there- we go back to her parents’ 57 ‘ Grand Banks, only to interrupt her hottie college roommate going at it with the waitress from the bar on the deck! I tell you my pissant little acquaintances, if I have to paint a picture for you, you don’t deserve to hear the rest of it. Besides, the market’s about to open you fucks! Get back to work! And forward those TPS reports to the fax on my boat- NAUTY BY NATURE! Anybody who calls me before Labor Day’s fired! You hear me??
© Copyright 2003, Wrecked Highway, Inc., All rights reserved.
Subscribe to Wrecked
Y’see, Chaps like me tend to follow a certain path the way birds fly south for the winter. Watch, you’ll notice an island pattern: Come May Two-four, every year, it’s a safe bet Frog, Four Star, Charlie-cat and the rest of the deep-sea fishing crowd will have the blenders fired and the Dark and Stormys coming in like a full gale. The free drinks and the Bacardi chicks at the weigh in of the Bermuda Classic marlin tournament are worth the price of airfare alone. It’s like you’re Hemingway without the urge to write!
Around Memorial Day, The eastern end of Long Island tends to fill up with the usual suspects. The fish start running again, and the offspring of the founders of NYSE listed companies bearing their names begin to move north. The bars run out of Heineken, and the drug dealers from the city can’t drive fast enough to satisfy our appetites. Independence Day holds special meaning for these people, in that they feel that their ancestors largely founded this country, and that it was the wave of immigrants that spoiled it for everyone. This is Home to a certain faction of the tribe, including yours truly. It is in this local that our Episode of the Summer So Far took place.
As Mummy and Daddy travel most of the year, YD had the place to himself yet again. The boat was gassed up, the cooler packed with beer, the tackle in place (literally and figuratively). My boys Chad and Chip tell me to meet them at Conscience Point, right? That joint where that Jewish broad mowed over all those suckers in line? So I go to meet ‘em at like 10 o’clock, line of the usual losers out the door (Yeah, cheesedick, I saw you there in line and didn’t let you tag along, got a problem with that?).
Anyway, I roll in past Jamal the Eight Foot Bouncer with a wink and a nod, say hello to some chump who owes me commissions from a deal we did like fucking a year ago (he’s damn lucky I don’t have the time to go after 20 grand), order a beer and fuckin’- a if I didn’t run woody- first into my prom dates little sister! She wanted me when she was like fuckin’ EIGHT when I picked her sister up to pop HER cherry. I mean, talk about your groundwork already laid for ya. She bummed a smoke and told me how weird it was to run into me there, and did I have ‘any interest in a little booger sugar’? I mean, this little tramp had a better chance getting away from Leo DiCaprio with a fistful of X!
I damn near fell down and thanked God like an NFL receiver in the end zone right then and there. A moment later we’re in the unisex bathrooms, and she pulls out a fold the size of my head! Fumbling through her tiny purse, she pulls out the keys to her Hummer. “You drive a Hummer?” I say.“Yeah, I got it ‘cause they have the fattest keys to do bumpies off of- plus I really like the name.” she replies casually, handing me the bindle.
Needless to say, the story gets better from there- we go back to her parents’ 57 ‘ Grand Banks, only to interrupt her hottie college roommate going at it with the waitress from the bar on the deck! I tell you my pissant little acquaintances, if I have to paint a picture for you, you don’t deserve to hear the rest of it. Besides, the market’s about to open you fucks! Get back to work! And forward those TPS reports to the fax on my boat- NAUTY BY NATURE! Anybody who calls me before Labor Day’s fired! You hear me??
© Copyright 2003, Wrecked Highway, Inc., All rights reserved.
Subscribe to Wrecked
posted by YD at 12:18 PM
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