True story:

After a long day of pitching commercial ideas to eggheads at a "new age" marketing firm in SoHo with Omni (I'm not supposed to say the client's name but it rhymes with Spalvin Splein), I was soaking in the tub back at my friend Matt's loft when the phone shook me out of a trance with the brrrzzzz noise. The screen said "Bl1ndassassin" but my mind read trouble because oh crap he can't find out I'm in NY because I blew off a road trip with him and told him I had the swine flu. I put it on speaker and tried to sound under the weather while I beat off under water so as not to be obvious.

"Swine flu, huh? But I'll have to kill you another time, FAPface", he crackled from the tinny speaker. "Omni had me call in a favor, and you bitches best get to the fuckin' Rain Forest Cafe stat if you wanna hang with the Shatner." I nearly flooded the bathroom in the ensuing flappy panic and the phone squirted away as I tried to save it from a watery grave. *Ploosh* it went into the toilet, and fuck it, I needed a new iPhone anyway. That one had SOMEBODY's boogers stuck in the edges of the touch screen and it was very irritating to think of touching that stuff and knowing that little particles were probably flying into my eyes every time the phone vibrated was starting to gross me out. I digress. Omni.

Thanks to this freak cabbie with dreadlocks and methmouth, we made it to the spot in less than half an hour. I started to open my mouth at the door but the hostess stopped me and said "Your party is in the VIP, gentlemen", pointing to a staircase with a blacklight and a reclaimed cocobolo banister.

I blinked as I stepped in the room and I was totally caught off guard when, from out of nowhere, Bl1nd's backhand made me see stars INSIDE MY NOSE. "How the hell did you get here??" I whined as he glared at me. The lights were dim up there, and there were little critters scrambling around and twitching in the trees surrounding this massive wooden table. I kicked a snake out of the way as I stumbled away from Bl1nd. He was still grumbling about swine flu and New York girls and expensive cigarettes when all of a sudden a beam of light switched on from the heavens and illuminated WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER at the giant table, with Omni already nestled in beside him with a Helena Bonham Carter lookalike (who later turned out to actually be Helena Bonham Carter). I clapped a hand on Bl1ndassassin's shoulder and told him he was crazy for doing this. Truth is, I don't know how I can ever repay the guy for hooking us up with Shatner and the Bottomless Champagne Bucket by surprise like that. Birds were fucking singing in there. I ordered the Popcorn Monitor Lizard platter, with honey graham-coated grasshoppers as an appetizer.

Bill Shatner is pretty easy to talk to, as it turns out, and before very long he was telling us about the (still secret) T.J. Hooker musical he's working on with Trey Parker and Matt Stone, and how it's gonna redefine musical comedy. You thought The Producers was hot shit? Think again. This will level everything that came before it, a real paradigm shift. All the time Bill's talking, Helena is rubbing Omni's leg and whispering in his ear. I've gotta hand it to him, he played it cool the whole evening and had her eating out of his hand. Literally. He was feeding her pistachios out of his FAP hand like it was nothing.
I wish I had pictures of that shit*.

Eventually me and Bl1nd start talking shit about how we've got a mean 2 on 2 game and Shatner comes back with how Leonard Nimoy dunked on him in a game of Horse back in '69 and how they used to gobble shrooms and see who could do the most pushups between takes on Star Trek. WTF. I swear old guys are the best storytellers. I mean, you just have to give the man some room and let him go. Before I knew it we'd been there three hours and it was time to think about sleep before catching the red-eye out of town in the morning. We said our goodbyes to the Shatness and stumbled outside to try and catch a cab. Omni was still sweet-talking Helena a few steps away when Bill strolled outside and started pouring on the charm to both of them.

"You two sure you don't wanna come back to the hotel and play strip poker?", he leered. He wanted Helena, pretty bad by the sound of it.

Those must've been the magic words because I didn't see Omni again until two days later when I finally caught up with him at the Baskin Robbins in Falls Church (that's Virginia, bitches). I asked him where the hell he'd been and all he would tell me is that his butt was sore and he was still rubbing Anbesol on his nipples every couple hours. Shatner truly is a god.

We didn't get the client, but we did have the night of our lives talking shit with Bill in a room full of geckos and Helena Bonham Carter. I'll never forget this, Bl1nd. I'm sorry about that swine flu bullshit, man. Also, thanks to Oxycolton for somehow having the phone number to everyone that was ever famous. Dude, you rock!


*To atone for the lack of pics of that shit, here is an actual photo of me taking a picture of a shit:

Oh, man.

Ever since I've known Omni, I had always told him I wanted to shake his hand. So naturally when I found out that Punkle would be in New York at the same time on business, why not kill two kittens with one hammer? Only after purchasing my tickets though did Punkle... punk out... like a bitch.

He said he was sick with some retarded-ass pig fucker virus, and I just dismissed it as a "fuck you" and went about my plans.

Between dodging scary asian people in surgical masks at the airport and navigating the subway in New York I had managed to find a place to sit long enough to make a phone call. About this time I saw a drunken man being thrown out of what seemed to be a gathering into the street. I walked over to investigate what all the fighting was about and a middle aged white male with hardly any hair was thrown in my direction. He clung to be only briefly before unleashing such a violent stream of vomit that I had no choice but to step back as he landed on his face. The man was face down on the concrete gurgling in a pile of his own excrement. I picked him up and carried him to a bench before screaming to the host, "What the fuck is wrong with this guy"?

This she-beast with one eyebrow spoke up, "THE OLD MAN CAN'T HOLD IS LIQUOR! HAHAHA! WHAT A DUMB PIECE OF SHIT!"

At this point I call an ambulance and tell them where I was, then asked the man if he had HIV considering I had just been vomited on. He just shook his head and began to fall over again. I leaned over into his ear and said, "I swear to God if you bite me you'll fucking die here".

Before I know it I am shoving my hand down this strangers throat as puke falls on both of our lower halves as I begin to hear sirens off in the distance. As I lean him back on the bench he just mumbles, "Thanks buddy", and started fidgeting in his pocket.

"Hold still, I'll be right back", I said as I walk over to a vending machine and grab a honey bun and a water to help soak up the alcohol/hydrate the stranger. When I came back I waived down the EMT, and stood to the side while they did their on site diagnosis. Before they walked him over to the ambulance, he turned around and slid me what turned out to be a small wad of twenties with glistening bits of his saliva from his hand left on them.

"Look man, I really appreciate what you did... these guys are going to take care of me now. I am sorry about your clothes... and if while you're in New York you need help or want to make up for what just happened, call the number on the back of that card. My friend will hook you up".

As the close the doors and drive off I counted out the money, 120$... considering my shoes alone were 90$ and my socks were soaked... I was a little miffed until I discovered the card inside the wad.

On the front it read, "Robert Murray", followed by a string of contact information... I immediately came... knowing my hands had only moments before been inside of one of my film idols unknowingly... and that I had actually given him a death threat! On the back was the phone number he told me to call... and well, I didn't exactly have a nearby place to clean off... and didn't want my first time meeting the NSF to be covered in vomit babbling about some story that sounds like it came from the gay bar.

So while I fidget with my phone, trying to get as little gunk on it as possible, the entire time thinking, "THIS IS WHAT THE INSIDE OF A GHOST BUSTER SMELLS LIKE", I finally manage to type in what was on the card after blocking my number. It rings twice before a strangely familiar voice comes over the speaker.

"This is William, may I ask... how you got... this number"?

William, my name is Blind. I am currently lost over a thousand miles away from home, Bill Murray just threw up all over me in an attempt to save his life, he gave me his card with this phone number on the back, and he just told me to call this number and you would be able to somehow make this better.

"Where are you"?

I told him I was at the corner of Park Ave. and E. 42nd street. He promptly replied with, "You... did say... you were covered in vomit... is this correct"?

Yes Sir.

"Alright, I'll bring a blanket... of sorts... for you to sit on... ETA... twenty minutes".

*fucking weirdo*

First, I called Omni to czech what our plans were and just told him I ran into some trouble. He said he was about to hop in the shower and to call him when I got shit straightened out and we'd meet up.

No sooner had I gotten off the phone with him did a man step out of a Porsche and walk up to me.

Myself : "How are you doing Sir? You'll have to excuse me if I don't shake your hand"

William : "You must be "Blind". So... Bill gave you quite the scare back there"?

Myself : "Yes Sir, it wasn't fun, but I did what I felt needed to be done".

William : "You know what? Get in the car, let's get you cleaned up".

Myself : *What choice do I have?*

After putting my back pack, shoes, and socks in his trunk, I walked around to the passenger door. Upon entering Williams car did I see a unique emblem chromed out on the dash... next to a Spock bobble head.

It finally hit me... I was riding through New York... In a Porsche... covered in Bill Murray's bodily fluids... with Captain fucking Kirk.

I just stared at him for a second, starstruck... he spoke up after a few seconds, "Relax, you're in good company. Take a load off, we're going to get you fixed up, and if you and your friends are bored this evening, you're invited to join me at the Rain Forest Cafe to celebrate my Sarah Palin thing".

Myself : "My mom loves you"

William fucking Shatner : "I love your mom too"

*awkward silence*

So I make the phone call to Omni telling him everything that had happened up to that point then called Punkle to rub it in his face that he's missing out by having an immune system incapable of handling a life-threatening illness.

I guess we can't all be Ninjas.

So I put together the conference call only to hear a severe echo between the two voices... so I started whistling into the phone ignoring their questions and Shatner's stare that said , "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS NOIZE"?

I knew Punkle had me on speaker, but only when Omni spoke could I hear myself echo. Knowing what I know about noise cancellation and phones in general, I was able to put together these assholes were circle jerking behind my back without me.

"Swine flu, huh?"

Punkle : Uhhh, 0gawd... errr...

"Omni told me before coming up that tonight had better be fucking epic, and you bitches best get to the fuckin' Rain Forest Cafe stat if you wanna hang with William fucking Shatner"

At this point I could hear some gurgling before Punkle's connection was dropped. Omni thanked me and said they would meet up.

After stopping to change clothes and pick up some cracked out looking bitch that seemed straight out of "Fight Club" at what I could only assume to be Shatner's hotel room while staying in New York, we rolled out to the Cafe.

I had never been to this restaurant before... and honestly, it didn't look like it should have had a VIP section... but we were led to a place describe the, "VIP lounge" anyway. However, it was free, paid for by Captain Fucking Kirk, made possible by proxy of Bill Murray, so I couldn't complain too much.

Kirk took a seat with his gurly as I excused myself momentarily. Around this time, I had begun to pheen for some cancer and started to step outside when I saw Omni being followed by a middle aged man whom I could only assume was a very not-dead Punkle. I hit him in the back of the head with a shuto before pointing where he was suppose to go. He just stared at me in disbelief before speaking up. "You're crazy man", he mumbled while grabbing my shoulder. "You don't know the half of it", I said, "now quit touching me unless you're going to give a reach around".

I continued to excuse myself and stepped outside before coming back in and slamming every drink available to me. After four screwdrivers, three shots of whiskey, a fishbowl margarita, and some of my own personal supply, I was seeing double.

I am not really too sure how the rest of the night went. I remember everyone leaving, and something about Omni leaving with Kirk... I don't know what happened to Shatner's bitch... but I can only assume that Punkle redeemed himself because I woke up next to him the next morning in a sanitary environment and my anus wasn't bleeding... so I think he did good by taking care of me. Considering I had to catch an early flight this morning, I didn't get to wait to meet up with Omni, but instead said my goodbyes to Punkle and slept on the flight home dreaming of Captain Kirk and Captain Morgan dancing around in my head.

NOTE : Grammar/fluidity/continuity/punctuation/sentence structure = shit, twenty four hours without sleep and a hangover doesn't make you a very good writer.

Holy shit, Bill Murray?

I can totally vouch for this story. I gotta say, for being surrounded by massive celebrities and having some what looks to be coked up Helena Botham Carter toying with me all night, we all kept it really cool.

Now, they've pretty much all told it. I was in NYC for a day, staying in a hotel in Time Square (paid for by my aunt's law firm, thanks!) when I get a call from Blind. "Oh what does this faggot want? Doesn't he know I'm busy watching scrambled porn?!" I think to myself as a reluctantly pick up my cell.
"I know how much of a crush you have on William Shatner, so you better get your ass over to the Rain Forest Cafe and see if you can get Punkle over here too, he is bitching out"

Hailing a cab, I went over to Punkle's friend's loft and hammered on the door for what seemed like five minutes. A wet and really horrible looking Punkle answers, still trying to get his Rockports on. "Okay I'm ready, how do I look? Gee I'm so nervous!" he says, hacking and coughing.

We get there and I just run out of the cab and start macking on Mrs. Durden. As much respect for the people I had there, fucking Helena Botham Carter would be a serious achievement, so guys, lemme just apologize in advance for not laughing it up with you the whole time.

She tells me she thinks my glasses are cute and I somehow turn the conversation on to fetishes. She had a thing for electric shocks and nipple clamps (oxy you should get with her!) and that she'd love to show me her whole collection of them. Knowing I'm getting some tonight from a celebrity, I sit with a smug grin on my face for the rest of the dinner and proceed to get shitfaced.

Not listening very carefully to what she was saying, I inadvertently agreed to let Kirk in on our plans and thank god I was too drunk to care. He spent the night watching me and Helen play with each other from the darkened corner of our hotel room with sunglasses on. I don't remember how the whole night was, but I do remember doing a few lines in the bathroom with them.

Covered in various bodily substances of varying colors, I drag my sore ass back to my hotel room and took a shower. I tried to wash the sin off me, but I ended up just crying deeply all night.

Punkle, how'd you do in the morning? Are you still sick?
Blind, I'm glad you got thrown up on.

This is the best thing I have read in months! The real question how much are your puke pants going to sell for on Ebay?