Zodi’s Blog

Poisoning The Mooch

Back when I still held the fantasy that I’d somehow magically mature into a real person one day and contribute to society, I did what I thought I was supposed to do and went to college.    

I found a couple of roommates and rented a little apartment in Oakland, just off of Pitt’s main ‘campus.’ –Pitt doesn’t really have a campus, unless you consider a crackhead infested ghetto a campus. Our whole apt. building, which was really more of a slumlord’s wet dream, adopted an open door policy. We all drank, smoked pot, and generally avoided any semblance of education or responsibility all day every day, so it just made sense to be able to wonder from floor to floor in a drug and alcohol induced stupor, experiencing as many levels (of intoxication) as possible as often as possible.   


The commons!


This open door policy worked out incredibly well. The guys on 4 might have a keg of beer while the guys on 3 had killer weed and the girls on 1 had some kind of pills (who gives a shit if nobody knows what they are, lets take them) so the alien looking couple on 5 would order a truckload of pizza. Everyone did their part to see Lennon’s (or Lenin’s) most ambitious dreams become a hazy reality.  


Our fifth floor neighbors.


 There was only one bad apple that turned the whole bushel into a black sheep that beat a dead monkey with a broken, rusty wrench and his name was The Mooch. He was not simply a mooch, he was The Mooch. He was what every mooch should aspire to be. It is his face that is used when printing IOU slips. Until his birth…..and after his birth, is how the mooch world records time.   

I’m pretty sure that The Mooch was really a homeless drug addict who somehow managed to couch surf for decades. That’s how talented he was. I never saw him go to class, touch a book, I never saw him produce an ID or drive a car. The Mooch was a mystery written on a post dated check that was a stolen forgery in the first place.    


The wily Mooch without his clever disguise.


This guy would eat all of our food, smoke all of our… everything (he smoked anything, literally. He once smoked alcohol…long story) he drank all of our beer. He never had a penny but he always had a story. He even used to take showers in our apt, probably just so he could mooch soap and shampoo. He’d always just BE there. He was The Mooch Buddha.   

I actually did the math one night and figured out that he owed us between 2 and 3 grand. You couldn’t ask The Mooch for a favor because he’d fuck up a glass of milk if you asked him to bring you one. I finally sat him down and told him, “No more mooching, Mooch.” To which he replied, “Dude!” So I said, “Look fucker, if you don’t stop eating, smoking, and drinking my stuff I am going to motherfucking bludgeon you to death with a plastic bong.” To which he replied “Ok” and left, only to come back an hour later like he forgot we had the talk.    

 A month or two passed with little change. (It’s hard to be firm or proactive when you are high and drunk. In case you didn’t know that fact, it’s true.) Then, one long weekend I went to the coast with some friends. On Saturday afternoon some girl had given me a huge leftover dish of refried or black bean Mexican party dippy shit that I had accidentally left in my car. I finally smelled my irresponsibility on Tuesday and hatched a plan.    

I raced to my apt to get my money and drink a beer. I made a list while drinking another beer. Then I went grocery shopping. Which was a big deal in those days. I mean like a major accomplishment. I was as serious as cancer about this. I brought my supplies in and gathered my roommates, opened a beer and immediately began working my culinary magic.    


A bunch of wholesome goodness!


I compressed the deadly Mexi beany dippy shit into as compact of a sludge as I could make it. It actually made me gag repeatedly it was so noxious. I added two full cups of sugar and at least an inch of black brownie icing over the whole concoction. I put it in my fridge. I waited as patiently as a spider on heroin. Junkie spiders are super patient…in case you didn’t know that.      

I’m not sure if it was 2 or 3 days later (time is a relative, bendy principle when you are always drunk and high) but eventually The Mooch came and The Mooch mooched.    

He ate one!    

Then, and I am not making this up, he ate another one while I hung my jaw open like a cartoon character and my friends actually stopped doing drugs long enough to stare. The Mooching Motherfucker ate two of my poison brownies!    


The Mooch had exploding ass. Seriously.


The Mooch spent the majority of the next four days toilet surfing between apartments with a severe case of exploding ass. Eventually we all ended up abandoning the open door policy and adopting a locked door/secret knock to gain admittance policy.    

Looking back I realize I’m lucky as hell that there wasn’t mayo in that dip and The Mooch didn’t die because I would have gone to The Prison.    

In any case, revenge is sweet. As sweet as two cups of sugar and one inch of icing!

*Shit, I just realized that Death to Moochy would have been a way cooler name for this post.


June 24, 2010 - Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , ,


  1. lol

    omg that sounds so nasty, both how u guys went through college and what happened to The Mooch…

    Comment by Susi Spice | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • It was even nastier still to be there and live through it. But as far as I know, everyone survived!

      Thanks Susi!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 24, 2010 | Reply

  2. Here’s something I like about your writing – I can’t tell if the stories are true or not. And with ones like this, I like that! 🙂

    Comment by Pamela Villars | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • I’ll choose to take that as a compliment Pamela! Unfortunately ….true.

      Thanks Pamela!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 24, 2010 | Reply

  3. Scott,

    After reading about your “ass” of a dad, and your fecal swim pool incident, and then this perpetual state of drug and drunken existence….It is a miracle you are alive! You are like “super dude”!

    I can see you standing there, head held high, looking to one side, hands on your waist, with your cape blowing in the wind…..lol….thanks for another good laugh!

    Comment by trishothinks | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • The saddest (or funniest) thing is that I can’t haven’t even touched on (nor will) my worst experiences.

      I love the fact that you have a good memory about my posts. That’s the same way I am. It shows the love!

      Oh and I just tried that post ‘con cape’ but I think it made me look gay…?

      Thanks Trisho!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 24, 2010 | Reply

      • Con Cape? Not sure I know what that is?

        Comment by trishothinks | June 24, 2010 | Reply

        • Oh sorry. It just means ‘with cape’ in Spanish. About all the Spanish that I’m proficient in…

          Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 24, 2010 | Reply

  4. Scott, you are the embodiment of what is meant by ‘character’ (“quite a character” as opposed to “of sound character”). You are a never ending repository of stories featuring, well, characters, rogues and rascals and their characteristically deviant shenanigans. I don’t believe I have ever experienced a moocher per se. My first husband was a pharmacist, and although for the most part we shared our stash (which we stashed in a Samsonite suitcase), every now and then we secreted our own separate stash. In a sense, we mooched from each other and as paranoiacs who have had too much stash do, we created ‘sub-stashes’ and subsequently partitioned our stash and stashed our cache (or something like that). It’s been 25 years and I never did find that bag of ‘ludes I expertly hid. As you well know Scott, losing a stash is akin to losing the family pet or worse. Just think, with today’s technology I could have embedded a chip and located it via GPS. If no one has specifically come up with such a device specifically tailored to one’s stash, I think they should. Because you know what happens when you’ve had too much stash or need to stash your cache due to moochers…

    Comment by elizabeth3hersh | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • Ah you remind me of the Wolf’s (in Pulp Fiction) wise musings … “I said that you are a character, I didn’t say that you had character.” And what a difference it makes. I believe that it is more the characters on the periphery of our lives that make life so fun, challenging and interesting. I wish the boring people would just go somewhere and die. –I said that.

      Oh my God Elizabeth, your first husband was a pharmacist !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh my God! If I ever get divorced again, I’m going to find the ugliest, horniest pharmacist in the United States and make her my new, very sexually satisfied (due to pharmaceuticals) wife.

      Sadly I missed out on ludes; I was a few years too late. But judging by my love of all things pharmaceutical (especially opiate based) I think I would have loved them. And if you could only find those bad boys you could give me one and sell the rest as collectors item’s, probably at a couple hundred a pop.

      You’ve got me thinking of a prescription bottle with a tracking device.

      Until then… please keep looking.

      Thanks Elizabeth!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 24, 2010 | Reply

      • It was awesome, Scott. Not only that, my first job (if you don’t count that 3-day stint at Taco Bell) was as a pharmacy technician. I used to insert purloined Dilaudids in his holiday cards. We had some good, good times. 🙂

        Comment by elizabeth3hersh | June 24, 2010 | Reply

        • You are very quickly convincing me to go back to college. Oh and my birthday just passed a few months ago and I didn’t get a card. And I want one.

          I like good times too!

          Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 24, 2010 | Reply

  5. Damn, Scott. I envision Mooch still running around for toilet time. That is one funny and – well – sickening story, in that he ate TWO, and the college system. My brother was up at UMass Amherst, in “The Towers”, sitting around with some dorm friends when this student entered the room, walked to the open window, and jumped to her death. It turned out that about seven went out the windows every year (at least during the early eighties). Man you inspire some wild and scary recollections. I’ll have to write a few . . . but with less, uh, death.

    Comment by Dan McGinley | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • I’m sure that wherever he happens to be right now he’s eating somebody’s leftover pizza, sleeping on their urine stained couch and borrowing “just enough to let me skate till Sunday.” I can only hope he still has digestive issues, the fucker still owes me money.

      That’s horrible about Umass, absolutely horrible. I guess coke depression…? Sounds ripe for a book by someone with an inside track. The Terrible Towers…

      Thanks Dan!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 24, 2010 | Reply

  6. I think there’s a Mooch around all college towns. I encountered several while getting my degree. LOL.

    Comment by Evil Twin's Wife | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • The trick I believe is to never invite them through the threshold, like the secret to keeping clear of vampires.

      Thanks Evil Twin’s Wife!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 24, 2010 | Reply

  7. A wonderful tale vividly told, whether real or fantasy matters not one damn!

    Comment by davehambo | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • If it were fiction I wouldn’t have needed so much back-story and I would have made the ending a hell of a lot more interesting.

      Thanks Dave!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 24, 2010 | Reply

  8. LOL…ewww!

    Comment by Reb | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • It honestly couldn’t be too much worse than what the big boys do to processed foods …..ack!

      Thanks Reb!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 24, 2010 | Reply

  9. “The Mooch Buddha” funny visual. The alien neighbors, when I saw that picture for a minute I thought, I recognize those folks. Strange.

    Comment by starlaschat | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • I think that we all must have had neighbors that ugly at some point. Usually in our early 20’s.

      Thanks Starlaschat!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 25, 2010 | Reply

  10. Man, college was the good old days. I really don’t see why we have to stop living like that. I mean, I haven’t had a cop almost arrest me because I was giving shit to a transvestite street walker in more than 20 years. My life sucks now.

    This is ANOTHER great Gonzo-esque story dude. You should write a book about all this stuff.

    Comment by Jay | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • That’s the beautiful thing though Jay; you never do have to stop living like that. I have friends that are the same age as me still living like that…when they are on the ‘outside’ anyway. When they are on the ‘inside’ they still get to pick up dudes that look like chicks. Bonus!

      Thanks Jay!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 25, 2010 | Reply

  11. We had a mooch (amateur compared to yours) and he ended up being one of those people who never leave school–at 30 he was hanging around writing flat line editorials for the school paper. He’s probably an elected official now.

    Comment by Thomas Stazyk | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • I think that every institution of higher learning has its own professional mooch. But I’m pretty sure that when they go to bed at night, or when they find themselves in a jackpot of some kind….they pray to The Mooch.

      Oh and great theory on the politician thing. That is a perfect career path for a mooch.

      Thanks Thomas!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 25, 2010 | Reply

  12. Forget the mooch I am still stuck on thinking Pitt was in Pittsburgh and not in Oakland.

    Comment by bearman | June 24, 2010 | Reply

    • Oakland is a neighborhood in the city of Pittsburgh Bearman. It’s an amazing neighborhood too, but large parts are straight up ghetto.

      Thanks Bearman!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 25, 2010 | Reply

  13. I know, I know, I’ve said it before, but you totally kill me – seriously! I grew up in the Bay Area and remember a lot of *good* times there and at my own alma mater, Chico State – home of the ill-fated Pioneer Days and the “work hard, play harder” mentality. One incident in particular comes to mind. Although it doesn’t involve a mooch (although I had a friend who camped in a tent on a buddy’s front lawn ’cause he “forgot” to rent an apartment), it does involve drugs and alcohol.

    I came home after a night on the town to discover my roommate trying to pry the knob off the bathroom door with a screwdriver, because some chick had locked herself in there (where all the kegs were on ice in the tub – tragedy!), and then proceeded to barf all over the place (slightly less tragic as my bathroom was upstairs), and then pass out on the floor. [How many drunk engineering and science majors does it take to get the knob off the bathroom door…?]

    Well, we managed to get it off – not quite sure how to this day – revived the chick and then sent her staggering happily out the front door with vomit still clinging to her hair. Finally! Access to the kegs was restored! Huzzah! Ahhh, yes. Those *were* the good old days.

    Comment by Desert Rat | June 25, 2010 | Reply

    • You kill me Rat, you really do. You grew up in the Bay Area? How lucky are you? I would have given my left nut…or at least leant it out for a month, to have grown up in the Bay Area. My God, I probably would have grown up to be a scientist or something…

      Although had I been blessed with a California childhood I may have gotten myself into even more trouble. I probably would have tried feeding Mooch to the sharks or something. I know I would have spent any free time I had left after partying, surfing that frigid but righteous water! Ahhh, you were so lucky.

      I’ve forgotten a lot of things in my life too. I’ve forgotten birthdays, anniversaries, keys, cars, money, tickets, suitcases, presents at home, girlfriends at parties, where I left my car, where I left my hotel, etc… but I never forgot to rent an apartment. Oh…. Wait…shit.. Great story!

      Thanks Dessert Rat!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 25, 2010 | Reply

  14. “Death to Moochy” would’ve been a winner, it’s true.

    Comment by Desert Rat | June 25, 2010 | Reply

    • I know! It came to me 10 minutes after I hit ‘publish.’ I hate when that happens.

      Thanks Rat!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 25, 2010 | Reply

  15. Ahhh, wonderfully, wonderfully entertaining, I couldn’t take the smile off my face long enough to even consider the ethical debates embedded in deliberately poisoning a known mooch* offender. Imagine the milage you could milk out of that debate at some collage tutorial!

    * I am actually not familiar with the term Mooch, but I figured it out, cuz I’m smart like that. I think it comes naturally, because my collage *education* sounds rather suspiciously similar to yours…

    Comment by RubyTwoShoes | June 25, 2010 | Reply

    • I took that class too. The one where they teach you to glue a bunch of different pictures or ads to a big poster and in the end you have a big, colorful poster that doesn’t really mean anything but you can still call your creative art. Good times!

      Unfortunately the only ethical debates that we engaged in were how much cut to use….kidding, I’m kidding…

      I would never doubt your first class education or intelligence because I’m way too smart to make that mistake.

      Thanks Ruby!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 25, 2010 | Reply

  16. Oakland. You were not exaggerating when you said ghetto.

    Comment by Natalie | June 25, 2010 | Reply

    • No Oakland is a ghetto for sure. But they also have the best pizza shop. And the best fries. And the best sandwich shop. And the best crack. And the best smack….

      Thanks Natalie!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 25, 2010 | Reply

  17. Damn, bro, sounds like my youtttt, only we eliminated the college thingy: more money for sex, drugs and rock and roll. Well, okay, we couldn’t afford the women, so sex was pretty much out. And being as only one of us (me) had jobs, drugs were out because of the aforementioned lack of funds (Collecting roaches at parties only goes so far), but we sure as hell knew how to rock and roll . . . even if we did have to sneak into the club to hear it (the bouncer was one of our gangs brothers).

    Comment by jammer5 | June 25, 2010 | Reply

    • You couldn’t afford the women? But the women are free. The women pay for drugs and rock and roll…if you’re into that sort of thing, I mean.

      As long as you had a good time Jammer, that’s all that really matters.

      Thanks Jammer!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

  18. Blahahahaha mooch. There is one at every college or uni. Our mooch was called Neville and no one had a clue WTF he was or WTF he was studying but he could quote anything from the fraggles to Freud! I think he is still there 😦

    Comment by frigginloon | June 25, 2010 | Reply

    • are u sure his name was Mal and wore NO shoes EVER come hell or high water never wore shoes? hehe

      Comment by Susi Spice | June 25, 2010 | Reply

      • Then he wouldn’t get any service damn it.

        Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

    • Your mooch was named Neville? My wife has an uncle named Neville that has lived in Oz sinse he was 20. hmmm.

      Thanks Loon!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

      • baahhhaa so Neville is YOUR Uncle Neville…Uncle Moochsalot!

        Comment by Susi Spice | June 26, 2010 | Reply

        • No, no but he might be yours…

          Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

          • Does he have red hair and a beard? Blahahaha, we all went to the house Neville was mooching at for a party and there was a massive friggin motorcycle skid mark on the lounge room carpet. Some random had ridden through the front door on his bike did a big skid mark and rode off 😦

            Comment by frigginloon | June 27, 2010 | Reply

            • actually he had strawberry blonde dirty long curlish hair lol and yes a beard haha maybe he went by different names at different unis

              Comment by Susi Spice | June 27, 2010 | Reply

  19. OMG! That is the best revenge EVER!!!!

    Brilliant, really. And you have to know deep in your heart, that The Mooch definitely thought twice the next time he mooched a delectable confection from someone else’s fridge.

    It’s a certianty.

    Comment by Candy | June 25, 2010 | Reply

    • I hope so Candy. I was never really sure if The Mooch had the IQ to understand object permanence or cause and effect. But it was at least as good as rubbing his nose in the poo.

      Thanks Candy!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

  20. Bad bean brownies + Mr. Mooch = Swamp ass? That is truly an excellent recipe for disaster. (More so than even your deadly brownies!)

    Comment by Michael Horn | June 25, 2010 | Reply

    • I should really consider myself lucky that he didn’t turn into some kind of mad cow brain zombie!

      Thanks Michael!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

  21. Scott this is an awesome story! My two fave lines: “The Mooch was a mystery written on a post dated check that was a stolen forgery in the first place.” and “I finally smelled my irresponsibility on Tuesday and hatched a plan.” Dude, my car REEKS of irresponsibility. And too bad on the “Death to Moochy.” Witty titles can be so damn elusive.

    Comment by Megan @Momlarky | June 25, 2010 | Reply

    • That first line was my favorite as well, thanks! Sorry about your car, I hate when that happens. I thought about changing it but I had already gotten 4 comments and deemed it too late. Damn.

      Thanks Megan!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

  22. Can I hear the abridged version of how The Mooch smoked alcohol? Por favor? 🙂

    Comment by Ron-Yves Strouteau | June 25, 2010 | Reply

    • It was just some elaborate drink/shot concoction. I remember that it had Cointreau, Bac 151 and something else. You set the drink on fire, let it burn for a second, then placed a thin wooden coaster over the glass. Then you put a plastic cup with a hole for a straw over top. A few seconds later when the fire was out you just slid out the coaster, suck the shit out of the straw, and slam the drink. I have of course, smoked alcohol too….

      It was some ridiculously potent stuff.

      Thanks Ron!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

  23. I love it! I wish you had a picture of him. How horrible it must have been to have food poisoning and not have your own bathroom, lololol. I hope he learned a lesson. You’re so evil 🙂

    Comment by Mrs. D | June 26, 2010 | Reply

    • I wish I had a photo of any of that stuff from my past. The damn witness protection program doesn’t let you bring anything.

      I’m not evil; I’m just like….experimental. yep.

      Thanks Mrs. D!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

  24. This story has left me at a loss for words, Scott.

    Seriously, how could he not know something was wrong after the first bit? I have a friend who’d come home drunk from the bar and eat SOS pads, and even she would have gagged at that.

    Do you know if he’s still alive? And if so, do you know where he lives and/or how I could find him? These are the kind of people I could watch all day. I just find it fascinating how they manage to make it to adulthood…

    Comment by bschooled | June 26, 2010 | Reply

    • I think you said it all B. He was just always so drunk and high, he probably melted his taste buds. Plus I think that because there was no meat, plus two cups of sugar, it probably did taste almost edible.

      Although I have no doubt that he is still alive (like the wily Terminator, he will not die) I don’t know where he may be. I am fairly certain that you’ve seen him by now at least a dozen times….Cops, Jerry Springer, Intervention, Homeless; Life on the Street, To Catch a Predator, Cops, Cops…

      Thanks B!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

  25. Totally funny tale Scott. We had the same sort of joker when I was in college, his name was Shelby and finally one night we literally threw him out of our apartment and told him we would stomp his guts out if he ever came back…he stayed away for good.

    Comment by Fundamental Jelly | June 26, 2010 | Reply

    • Shelby huh? He sounds like a natural born mooch with that name. I admire your assertiveness in nipping the situation in the bud. My own passive aggression could have led to possible charges…

      Let that be a lesson to the kids out there today, dealing with their own mooch.

      Thanks FJ!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

  26. Scott, I sincerely hope that this book you’re working on sporadically is an autobiography. Seriously. I don’t even know why you’d spend money on movies as nothing out there would compare to the memories you’ve managed to retain, despite your dangerously hedonistic lifestyle.

    Secondly, the Mooch had to eat it, no matter how disgusting it was. If it was in the fridge, and it wasn’t him, it had to be consumed by him. It’s his nature. It’s like the story the medicine man tells in “Natural Born Killers” about the snake biting the person who rescued him.

    I’m thinking he’s learned nothing from this experience and has spent several days in several bathrooms. On the other hand, no one had to worry about leftovers being forgotten for several weeks and having to don a HAZMAT suit just to clean out the fridge.

    Comment by Capitalist Lion Tamer | June 26, 2010 | Reply

    • No, it’s not an autobiography CLT. Who would want to read an autobiography of someone they’ve never heard of? I honestly don’t even think the stories themselves are that great. Even if I’m a shit writer, I’ve always been able to tell one hell of a story. I think that’s all it is.

      My biggest regret from when I started blogging was using my real name. First of all I’ve already embarrassed myself and ruined my name. Secondly if I weren’t using my real name I’d get to tell tales that I never can now. Maybe some day. Although those stories would make me look even worse than these ones do.

      And as I lie on the ground dying from starvation, I looked up at the mooch and asked … “Why? Why did you mooch the last of my food? Now I’m going to die!” And he looked down at me and said, “Because I’m a mooch.” –You’re right, it totally fits.

      Thanks for the hilarious, insightful comment CLT!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | June 26, 2010 | Reply

  27. […] recollections may have also been subconsciously inspired by reading Scott’s mooch musings the other day, because, like him, I have lived in some special places in my time, and with special […]

    Pingback by Special People « RubyTwoShoes | July 5, 2010 | Reply

  28. okay scott, get it right man. everyone knows we women, first dress in our nighties, then we have a pillow-fight, then we play tickle. geez, i thought everyone knew this! 🙂 there’s no tongue lashing, … er..well, maybe there is but it’s way after the tickle part.

    Comment by Lynn | August 10, 2010 | Reply

    • So she answered the door in her pajamas and I said, “What a strange place for a comment.” Hope you got the Airplane reference.

      Wow, while your comment was oddly placed it did have a certain je nais sais qua that made me feel kind of horny. Ha!

      Thanks Lynn!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | August 11, 2010 | Reply

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