Never trust a sheep farmer

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

A few years back I lived with a few of my good friends in South Australia. Yes, they are Aussies and had been to the states several times and I was now enjoying their hospitality. Their home was my home and by proxy, their friends were my friends. What happens when you are a 24 plane ride away from your home? Well, you just have to go with the flow and at time you never know where the river will take you.

Enter Farmer Mick: Farmer Mick is a sheep farmer and a demolitions expert. Blowing shit up by day, farming at night. Well, Mick was quite connected in town and knew heaps of people. However, it is true no matter where you go; farmers are not that cultured to city life. The stereo type of an Aussie cowboy Mick was. Down right nice guy and would do anything for you… But would also get you in shit tons of trouble due to his naivety.

10:30 on a random Wednesday night my cell phone rings and its Farmer Mick. He tells me he is on the way over to pick me up and we are going to go to Sumo night at the Nash Noodle House in downtown Geelong. Cool, betting on Sumo, I am there. We arrive and promptly start talking shit and throwing down money and giving the Sumo’s names like “King Tubby” and “Captain Calorie”; what do you expect, we were getting shit tanked on Jager bombs and VB’s. Anyways, we team up with some other dudes Mick knew and a few girls we met at the bar. Sumo concludes, girls want to go to the club. Now, as a visitor I suspect that my guide that came and picked me up, knew the town fairly well or at least the kind of club we were going to. #FAIL Mick had no idea what the place was about and I got the distinct impression that something was awry.

We get to this club and it looks like every other club we had been to on the trip. Long shady stairwell, bouncers that were well dressed and smoking a cig, and of  course us, the asshole brigade. We roll up, fucking hammered, and the bouncer say’s, “you boys aight? You do know where you are at right?” Me: “Of course I am fine. Yeah, I know where I am, do you? We are here with the girls.” Bouncer: *smiles* “aight then, have a lovely evening.”

We stroll in, do a quick survey and do a full scale attack on the bar. As we are pounding more Jager, I begin to get a funny feeling that the M:F ratio is a bit off. Fuck it, I brought my own girls. So, decidedly, we all needed to piss. The boys go before me, as I was a little distracted. Finally, went to it. I walked in and this is where it got weird: I walked in the bathroom and saw some guy talking to another guy from our group, hand on his shoulder and our buddy looked horrified. I said “whats up” and went to to piss.Then out of the corner of my eye, I see our buddy bolt out of the bathroom. Hmm, fuck it. I finish up and start to walk out. As I approach the door, I see the guy that was talking to our buddy, with a funny look on his chevy chase.

As I approached, the dude nodded his head at me as if to say whats up, but I realized he had something in his hand. Remember, I have been drinking Jager all nigh and a bit slow on the uptake. I looked down to see what this asshole was doing and I realized he was holding his cock as if he had just won a prize at the state fair. Kid you not, he say’s “What do you think, you like?” Me: *serious face* “Dude, what the fuck are you doing. This is a fucking bathroom, not a circus. Put that shit away and stop being a fag. What the fuck is wrong with you?” as I am walking out the door. Yep, I just called a dude propositioning me in the bathroom a fag. Then, all of a sudden, things start to fall into place like a fucking movie sequence. I, drunk ass JP, was balls deep in a Aussie gay bar courtesy of Farmer Micks dumb ass.

Now, I have been to many gay bars with my Sis and usually she points out the places to avoid. Being drunk in a strange land, in an undercover bar, I had no idea what was going on around me. Call it ignorant bliss. All until a guy offered me his cock. #NOTCOOL

I find Mick, tell him the score and that I may have created an international incident in the bathroom, I felt it was time to go. Mick, the asshole, tried to debate me on this issue. I was not having it and dragged him down the stairs right past the bouncer. I shit you not, the bouncer looks at me and Say’s “ah, come on now, could have been that bad?” Me: “No it wasn’t that bad. Except for almost getting ass raped in the bathroom by some douche bag.” Bouncer *smiles* “Have a lovely evening gentlemen.”

Wake up the next day and find Red, Rocky, Dane, and Blake in the living room. I proceeded to tell them about my adventure earlier that evening and where Mick had taken me. Dane, pipes up and say’s “mate, you know that place is a gay bar right?” Me: “well at first I didn’t until this fucking gay ninja came out of left Field with his pork sword in hand trying to swash-buckle me!”

We all laughed and they took me to a strip club later that day to and I quote Rocky “Ungay me.” Never trust a sheep farmer…



Filed under Friends

19 responses to “Never trust a sheep farmer

  1. Marie


    So the moral of the story is don’t go anywhere you don’t know when you are shit faced. Right? 🙂

    The moral is ask more questions!

  2. never told me if you liked my coc… mean…

    How awkward!

    Real fucking awkward…

  3. The Sis

    Yes there are certain bars no straight man or lesbian should ever venture into….

    See you need Marky Mark as your wingman if you are cruising in gay bars. 😉

    All I have to say is PINK TIE on New Year’s Eve… uh huh you know it.

    Problem was I wasn’t cruising the bars, I was brought to one without my knowledge.

  4. Pingback: TMI Thursday: Joaquin Phoenix and I Once Had Much in Common | Livit, Luvit

  5. k8


    It’s pretty funny now.

  6. Just A Girl


    Sorry, ok. Whew. Nope…still hilarious.


    Yeah, like oh “surprise asshole!”

  7. ROFLCOPTER <– jacking this like I did eleventy billion.

    Also. I peed a little laughing at this story. You get re-sharpied.

    How you would ever erase me is far beyond comprehension…


    that’s all.


    ok for real, that’s all.


    Twister… Its on!



  9. Dude, I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk. Was Mick nuts (pardon the pun) for thinking about staying at that bar a minute longer?

    The problem with Mick is he just doesn’t know any better. Yes, he is fucking nuts. This is the same guy that wanted to go shootin roo’s with him.

  10. You used a hashtag in your post.




  11. Alyxherself

    free drinks all nite!!!! man up!

    Thats usually what I do, but this time someone had to involve their cock. Not cool.

  12. f.B

    yeah, i agree. free drinks=cool. free drinks with a side of fries=cool. free drinks with a side of penis=not so much.

    Yeah, its like getting a finger in your bowl of chili

  13. Love it. Pork Sword. I’m taking that.

    Um . .. and I mean that in a I’m-going-to-borrow-the-term kind of way.

    Not that I’m um. . . taking it. Or taking his.


    Run with it babe!

  14. So Bill Bryson was right: Everyone in Australia IS really nice and will bend over backwards to offer you anything. ANYTHING!

    More true than you will ever know…

  15. I love how C steals my words. 🙂 And you forgot to put “naked, oily” in front of Twister…

    Naked, oily it is.

  16. Blondie

    Remind me to never go to a bar with you…ha.ha

    Your post is hilarious! At least he didn’t ask if you could sword fight..ha.ha

    Yes, going to the bar with me is quite the adventure. Yeah, no sword fighting for JP.

  17. Why the hell aren’t you still there? I’m this much more convinced that Down Under should be the meet-up locale for 2010.

    I still kick myself for coming back at times…

  18. Pingback: So, don’t trust a sheep farmer, my sister, or me! « The Gospel of JP

  19. Pingback: So, don’t trust a sheep farmer, my sister, or me!

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