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The most street things you have ever done

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    Originally posted by Cake of Doom View Post
    I regularly walk up and down streets and I have utilised the road too. Once, after a mad drinking binge (so drunk that I knew no fear), I went home by a different route and ended up in an avenue!

    So many mad street stories, you'll never believe them!
    I've crashed my bike (pedal powered) with my feet tied in a few times. Street sure seemed pissed when I hit it...


      I eat the street!


        Now you've made me hungry. For STREET JUSTICE!


          Originally posted by ghost55 View Post
          Now you've made me hungry. For STREET JUSTICE!

          Big tranny prostitutes, any drug you can imagine, the police station and the courthouse are all within walking distance of the Kaka'ako venue, so you may be in luck.
          Last edited by ChenPengFi; 2/27/2015 5:25pm, .


            Originally posted by ChenPengFi View Post
            Big tranny prostitutes, any drug you can imagine, the police station and the courthouse are all within walking distance of the Kaka'ako venue, so you may be in luck.
            See, someone understands "the street." So, yes, I am saying these are Sesame Street stories. Nothing wrong with them, but I was hoping for something different than "one day at band camp..."


              Seriousnity of the streetness

              You are now about the witness the strength of street knowledge


              q=tbn:ANd9GcTPBgtLgFBaQQWI9GyuNVJCTPnM163TQ1Xds4SW PNrH0b4eys5r
              Last edited by Sam Losco; 2/27/2015 7:17pm, . Reason: the madness vortex in the burning heart of the black street


                Around four years ago after the Junior College National Wrestling Championships in Spokane, Washington, my team and I were having a pity party in one of the Double Tree hotel rooms they had us crammed in. Somebody got the bright idea to hire a hooker from Craigslist to come and do a strip tease to counsel us for our failure (Our coaches had provided us with beer but couldn't be bothered to supervise us). The ho'er shows up around midnight, and it's immediately apparent that whoever ordered her had picked from the five-star models. This girl was legit; she looked like she had been hand-crafted by God personally for the express written purpose of sexual activity. It goes without saying that her performance was about as enticing as any strip tease could possibly get (If you were watching one in a room full of sweaty, nineteen-year-old dudes).

                It was back to reality for everybody after she finished up and we all found out her little exhibition was going to cost some astronomical sum of money. Everyone had thought that the dude who ordered her was going to cover the cost, but it turned out that his drunk ass had figured we'd all be able to pitch in. Thing is, although we each had been given a little spending money before departing from New Jersey (Around $75 or so), most of us had already used that cash up and nobody really brought along THAT much extra. Although everyone managed to scrimp together what they had, it was obvious this chick was pissed that she wouldn't be fully paid for her services. She didn't say anything at that particular moment, though; she just put on her best bitch face and left.

                My teammates cracked a lot of uneasy jokes about her pimp showing up, but nobody was really sober enough to be legitimately worried about the consequences of what they had done. I swear, though, it was not twenty minutes after that bitch left when two MASSIVE goombas barged into our room with conspicuous bulges in their front pockets. I believe everybody on the team collectively shit their pants at that point. The men (Who I think were the most obvious gangsters to ever grace the Earth) began questioning everybody about what had happened. Several of my teammates drunkenly tried to plead our case, but I think it was pretty apparent that SOMETHING serious was about to happen. Our heavyweight (The least pissed of the bunch) was edging himself closer and closer to the goons, an empty bottle of Heineken concealed ever-so-slightly behind his back.

                Meanwhile, while all this shit was going on upstairs, I had been busy all evening in the lobby going apeshit on passersby with a hedgetrimmer. I think I hacked, like, twenty tourists to death that night. The hotel staff tried to repel me with androids, but my Kree physiology allowed me to master their controls and turn them loose on their owners. I sort of blacked out at that point, but when I woke the next morning there were bodies piled all around me and my stomach felt like it was full of raw meat. Doctors believe I turned into a werewolf.

                That Street enough for you?
                Last edited by Holy Moment; 2/27/2015 10:10pm, .


                  Originally posted by Holy Moment View Post

                  That Street enough for you?


                    In my first year of teaching, a big angry man with a rottweiler and a pit bull terrier burst into my classroom looking for the 12 year old boy who had thrown his little brothers hat on the roof.

                    Luckily, being a brown belt in Wadoryu, I was able to diffuse the situation using non violent methods, and didn't have to hurt the big man or his two dogs.

                    Man, I miss that school sometimes. Whenever you were late for anything you could just say you were breaking up a fight.


                      Originally posted by It is Fake View Post
                      See, someone understands "the street." So, yes, I am saying these are Sesame Street stories. Nothing wrong with them, but I was hoping for something different than "one day at band camp..."

                      It was ONE TIME, man!
                      I was drunk, and roofied(!) probably.
                      I don't even remember fully, well that's my story anyhow...

                      I get what you're saying tho', the Eat the Street logo is more "street" than these stories.

                      I did live in downtown Honolulu back when Sailor Jerry's South Seas Tattoo was down there around the corner from Club Hubba Hubba.
                      Even the soup kitchen was only a block away.
                      We used to sit on my lanai on weekends and watch the carnage out front.

                      All of those are gone now and are being replaced by hipster art galleries and "small plate" dining.
                      Funny how much things have changed facade wise, but the seedy underground is still there.

                      Apparently the demand for 6 foot plus trannies with facial stubble hasn't subsided as they're out and about in force from about 3pm.

                      Or so i've heard.

                      Can you smell it?




                          I worked on a paving crew when I was younger. We made the street!

                          Everytime I drive down that stretch of road, I make sure I mention that I'm it's father.
                          Shut the hell up and train.


                            I didn't know you were French!


                              So, let me tell you how Street I am.

                              This incident took place 'prolly 20 years ago. I was working on a contract in city about two hours from where I lived at the time. The work day was over and I'd just bought some groceries and was loading them up in the trunk of my car. Being very Street, I'm in my own little world, thinking of the 2 hour drive home, and didn't notice that a rather large gentleman on a bicycle had just pulled up behind me.

                              I heard some noise that got my attention, turned around and there he was. He outweighed me by at least 50 or 60 pounds. He asked for money.

                              I said, "Sorry, I don't give money to strangers".

                              He said he hadn't eaten in days, so how about a few bucks, I looked like I could afford it.

                              This annoyed me. The city has full of service-type jobs. Anyone that wanted to work could work. He was in his 20s and healthy looking.

                              I said something like, "sorry, but you look well-fed to me."

                              Well, that was the wrong thing to say. He rolls his eyes, gets this resigned look on his face. Like there's a bit of unpleasant business he has to take care of. And slowly starts to get off his bike.

                              I'm thinking, "Oh crap, this guys gonna attack me."

                              I must have made some sound when I stepped towards him, in preparation for his attack. Halfway off the bicycle he pauses, with his leg up in mid air, like a dog watering a fire hydrant, and looks at me.

                              Our eyes are locked for what seemed like several minutes. Then he puts his leg back over the bicycle and he rides away.

                              Guess he didn't like what he could see in my eyes(or maybe my body language. Or, maybe there was a T-Rex standing behind me).

                              I was going to make sure he had the fight of his life. Guess I'm lucky he was too lazy to work for his money.

                              Soooo... It didn't take place in the street. But there was asphalt, and a smattering of broken glass.


                                Originally posted by ermghoti View Post
                                I didn't know you were French!


                                Check out the guys surname.



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