Sent to us from Columbia, MO…ENJOY!

“Chew, a pinch, a snus, a lipper, a dipper, Cope, Griz, a long cut dessert, a fatty-boom-batty, lip-otine, a chaw, a Chesapeake cheeker, a snuff, a chewski, a lip cookie, a dipsy doodle, a wad. Call it whatever you like, but smokeless tobacco is the bee’s knees for 2 reasons:

1. Nicotine is the bomb-diggity
2. Dippers aren’t persecuted like smokers*

* Assuming you’re inconspicuous about it.

As a fully addicted dipper, I used to hang out at the bars with a pinch of Skoal wedged back in my mouth so no one would notice. But in more than one instance, that plan blew up. This is one of those instances…

… after a long day of studying, classes, work, working out and general day-to-day bullshit, I was ready for a drink. So my pal Mike and I went down to the closest bar to tie in a buzz (Truman’s in Columbia, MO).

After a few pitchers Mike says, “Check out that hoochie playing Silver Strike.”

I glanced over to see an unbelievable pair of legs, a perfect rack, and the butteriest face I’ve ever laid drunken eyes on… Game On fuckers!

So I tossed in a pinch of Wintergreen Skoal and strolled over with a proposition: Beat me at Silver Strike and I have your drinks for the rest of the night. (a pretty good pickup I thought for being 6-7 beers deep)

I got Munson’d. Little did I know that she was a  Silver Strike savant and would end up bowling a 190-somethin’.  But whatever. I’d accomplished my goal and she and her friend soon sat down next to Mike and me. (but not before I could secretly toss in a dip)

An hour or two passes. We get acquainted. We also get drunker. All the while I’m clenching a 1/3^rd full (and growing) bottle of dip spit between my legs.

NOTE: The biggest problem with dipping is that, unlike cigarettes, there’s no acceptable ashtray to deposit the brown slaw that’s builds inside your mouth. So an empty beer bottle typically does the trick.

As closing time approached we arrived at that pivotal moment when you ask the girls to come back home with you to keep “partying.” And to our delight they were totally down for it. “Great!” I said, “Let me run to the bathroom real quick.” And in a moment of drunken excitement I forgot about the bottle of dip spit I was harboring beneath the table.

CRASH! SPLAT!

At once I looked to the ground to see the fruits of my idiocy, and as my eyes slowly moved upward I saw chunks of dip splashed across butterface’s perfect legs.

I could see that I was fucked… or perhaps more importantly… I wouldn’t be fucked. And before I could save face in front of butterface, I was thrown out of the bar.

Another lonely night courtesy of Skoal…”

Our Thoughts…

Dude, Butterface’s are gross…

Tags: bars, butterface, dipping, drink hustling, drinking, skoal

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 9th, 2009 at 6:40 pm and is filed under Readers Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.