Personal Lolcows - Lolcows in your personal life.

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Why would you be part of something so lame?

i defiantly do not participate in these groups. i guess its the same as why we all like to watch fuck ups like Chris Chan. because its entertaining. there are people who wake up early and watch the animals of the Savanna desert in their natural habitat. watching them hunt, mate, and fight. me? i stay up late watching the lol cows in all their habitats. wether it be Facebook or youtube or deviantart. some people wake up to the sound of a roosters cock-a-doodle-doo. i wake up to the sound of an lolcows reeeeeeeeeeee.
 
i defiantly do not participate in these groups. i guess its the same as why we all like to watch fuck ups like Chris Chan. because its entertaining. there are people who wake up early and watch the animals of the Savanna desert in their natural habitat. watching them hunt, mate, and fight. me? i stay up late watching the lol cows in all their habitats. wether it be Facebook or youtube or deviantart. some people wake up to the sound of a roosters cock-a-doodle-doo. i wake up to the sound of an lolcows reeeeeeeeeeee.


The best way to observe them is to hang out with them and have them over at your house.
 
Since Jeffrey's likely fucked himself (and probably his mother) over, and I haven't told one in a while, here's another story from childhood.

We were in the same kindergarten class. Since I've told a ton of stories about him already, it should come as no shock to any of you that Jeffrey was not allowed to have scissors. Even those little kid scissors with the blunt edges were off-limits to him. The reason for this is because he'd always threaten to stab the kid with the misfortune of sitting next to him.

Yeah, that's another thing. The way our kindergarten class worked was that we'd have about four kids to a table, and each table was given the name of a color ("red table," "green table," etc.). Throughout the year, Jeffrey was moved to different tables no less than five times because he just couldn't go a single day without making life hell for the people he was put with. Eventually, the teacher just gave up and Jeffrey received his own little desk adjacent to the tables. He was actually pretty pleased with this, probably for the "unique" feeling it gave him. Any time we did some kind of group activity, Jeffrey was always just kind of forced onto whichever group happened to have an absent kid that day.

Back to the scissors, though. The final straw was when Jeffrey threw a pair of them at another boy. I don't remember the full details of what happened, but I do remember Jeffrey sperging out about something or other, and this kid saying something like "shut up, stupid" which, to a kindergartner, is all you really need to say to have a good put-down. Jeffrey threw his scissors at the kid, and he started crying. Somehow, the kid wasn't really hurt from this, though it did cause the school a bit of problems. They went to the office, and parents were called. Jeffrey made up some bullshit story about how the kid was always bullying him and stealing his things (he wasn't). Jeffrey's only punishment was a suspension, which of course meant that he got away with it; his mother wasn't going to punish him for "self-defense" after all.

Following this, he was never allowed to use scissors again, and any time we were doing a project that required cutting, he'd have to tear it.
 
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I've been hemming and hawing about this for a while, it's a bloody long story and more of a horrorcow than a lolcow. I actively look back and shudder on what happened with this guy, and actually blocked out a lot of the worst stuff. I'm going to try and keep it short but I might ramble a bit, there's a lot to unpack.

To understand why I was in this position in the first place, I have to explain; I was nineteen, just dropped out of college due to severe health problems and under a lot of pressure to stay in a relationship with a very unpleasant man ten years older than me. I was also very, very sheltered to the point that all but the most blatant of sexual innuendos still fly right over my head.

Enter Botherguts.

He was looking for someone to help out on an independent comic he wanted to produce, and I needed some sort of creative outlet so I applied. He was the artist/writer of this comic along with some talented people he'd managed to rope in. The comic is a story in and of itself but I'll stick to talking about Botherguts.

Botherguts had one talent and only one talent, and that was sussing out women who were vulnerable in some way and taking advantage of their good nature and politeness. Of course, to listen to him talk you'd think he was fending off supermodels everywhere he went, and he talked about women a lot. Like, every second sentence was about how good he was at sex with this woman or that woman. Funnily enough, though, when I met him he was in a 'relationship' with an Indonesian teenager, probably the most obvious mail-order bride scheme I had ever heard of (and again, I was very sheltered but even I picked up on this.) Hilariously, I got talking to her once online and she confided in me that he scared the hell out of her, and shortly after she broke up with him. This wasn't the only time that I managed to accidentally fuck up his 'relationships.'

For someone who was obsessed with women and how much sex he could have with them, he also seemed to hate women with a passion, or at least certain types of women. He hated women from our home country because they were 'too feisty' and fetishized submissive Asian women, but he also hated anime, wuxia and anything notably cultural from Asian countries. If you were one of the maybe ten people who ended up reading his comic, you notice a pattern; women dying violently. Mostly in the style of Sin City but a warped Sin City where the men look like men and the women also look like men. He had a particular loathing for the wife of his best friend, who was a perfectly nice woman. She happened to be from China, I suspect his real problem was that his friend got himself the Asian wife that Botherguts wanted. He talked about their sex life in great detail, mostly speculation on his part.

You might be wondering why I call him Botherguts. As you might have guessed, he was massively overweight but seemed to be unaware of it because all his clothes were too small. He wore cowboy boots all year round, even though he could barely walk in them. Eating with him was morbidly fascinating, I have never seen anyone eat the way he did. He barely chewed, just inhaled and whatever it was, three courses or more sometimes, it was gone in less than ten minutes. He had some sort of issue with his nose, the nostrils were about the width of a sheet of paper, he was a mouth breather and had sleep apnoea, but when I asked him if he'd ever seen a doctor about it he gave me some spiel about needing sedation otherwise he'd lash out when they tried to operate (I think this was meant to impress me, which leads me to...)

Botherguts wanted to project a 'tough guy' image so he used to boast about times he'd gotten out of control and scared people. Some of these stories included the time he punched a dog, the time his uncle called the police on him and the time he intimidated his school bully after running into him again. I suspect said bully was only intimidated because Botherguts dresses and acts like a lunatic, but I kept that to myself. He sulked for quite a while when I told him I thought punching a dog is an awful thing to do.

Most of the work on the comic had to take place at his house, where he lived with his parents and three of his four adult brothers. I had to stay over when this work took place because I lived miles away, and it remains the worst place I've ever had to work in. The house was a ruin because not a single one of the adult men in the house could look after basic things like laundry or vacuuming and the mother was a nervous wreck who used to cry when I came over because she was so glad to have someone female to talk to. Botherguts didn't even have a bedroom, never mind an office, so all the work took place mostly in his youngest brother's room, the only somewhat well kept room in the house. And Botherguts did really stupid shit like leaving inked panels on the ground where they got damp or stepped on. Once when we went to the printers, he had put the finished work on a CD that was so badly scratched that it wasn't readable, and I went back on a six hour round trip to sort out his fuck-up. Somehow during this time five comics were printed; before I joined the 'company' he hadn't managed to print even one, despite working on it for three years.

The icing on this cake of cringe is that he had this thing about wolves, I think under other circumstances he might have turned otherkin. He slapped the wolf nonsense everywhere, it was in the name of the company, on all the logos, it was his pen name, half of his stories were about werewolves and he constantly referred to himself as 'the wolfman.' It wouldn't have been so pathetic if he wasn't so clearly going bald, and knowing a fair bit about actual wolves I bit my lip an awful lot when he went off on one of his wolf tirades.

The crowning moment came during this one evening, shortly after he'd managed to sucker in another young girl to work on the comic, and I had been doing some dream interpretation for a laugh. The other girl told me about her dream and it was fairly interesting, lots of detail. Then Botherguts asked me to interpret his recurring dream, wherein he was running down a long dark corridor and he heard growling and panting behind him...

"....and then I stopped and turned around, and realized that I had BECOME THE WOLF!"

Me and the other girl looked at each other and sort of mentally facepalmed, because it could not have been more obvious that he had made it up to get me to stroke his wolf-ego. Instead I interpreted the meaning that he was feeling helpless in his own life and that becoming an animal in a dream was a sign of an inferiority complex. He did not like that.

I have many more stories about Botherguts, the times I cockblocked him unwittingly, how I managed to save his arse when he made enemies just before a sales event, the time he left me in a foreign country with no money...I'll continue if anyone's interested.
 
Ok fagolas buckle up.
I knew a kid named Alex. He was this pepperoni herpes looking motherfucker who had severe :autism:. The kid sounded like Steve Urkel from Family Matters. He has a fetish for vaccums as well as jerking off to Futa/Scat porn of Rainbow Dash. The dude obsesses over Rainbow Dash and refuses to let that slip by you. (Example being when we were asked what would we wish with The Monkey's Paw, he yelled out, "I would wish to be married to Rainbow Dash), And at one point he brought a RB Plushie and humped it in science class. I Think the guy was/is either an AB/Forgot how to go to the bathroom, as he straight up sharted in class one time. The kid stalked me in kindergarten and has tried to sexually assault people by sticking his dick inbetween their asscheeks. If you guys want more of what i remember from him, ask free.
 
Yep, go on and post some more, please. It sounds like Botherguts had the potential to become one of those personal lolcow classics, such as Benito and Butt Doctor.

Speaking of which; more fucking storytime for Benito since... well shit happened. Thanks to @D.Va for a permalink for the earlier stories:
Part I: I Stole Food From the Homeless
Part II: It's Not Coolwhip, it's Lard
Part III: I Must Consume your Newborn Child
Part IV: You Use Soap?
Part V: Reader's Special
Part VI: Editor's Response #1
Part VII: Editor's Response #2
Part VIII: Do you Even Lift?
Part IX: Editor's Response #3
Part X: I Fail at Tutorials
Part XI: Da Bubble King: Benito in Action
Part XII: His Parents Have Given up on Him
Part XIII: Destroyed Five Toilets... Almost too Many to Count
Part XIV: At Least You Aren't Benito
Part XV: Want Woman
Part XVI: Benito's YT
Part XVII: OM NOM NOM

So it's been... shit, about three or four years since Cole and I had to deal with Benito in the flesh or online. Having a different college than him, moving so he's far the fuck away, and an incident where he attempted to commit credit fraud and nearly going to prison does that to interactions. Hell, the both of us thought we'd never have to deal with him waddling to our doorsteps again outside of maybe reading the world's most dishonest obituary. Well we thought wrong.

Cole was out with some friends he picked up at his college and they were having a bit of a drinking and game party at the time. Well, Cole's phone rings up, and he looks and notes that well fuck, Benito was calling him. Curious on the fuck he was doing, he decided to turn the speakerphone option on so all could hear what our least favorite tub of butter was going to say

It started off normally, just simple shit like "How you been" and whatnot. Well, after the greetings, he decided to go right into why he wanted to call. Turned out he just finished showering (probably without soap knowing him), and decided to scratch an itch on his foot, which took what he described as "gray material" off of it.

Well, Cole was just baffled on two things after a statement as profound as this one, one being why the fuck would you open up with this for a person you haven't spoke to in years, and two how the fuck he didn't know what dead skincells are and why if you don't bathe regularly they pile on like that.

Cole decides to illuminate him on this disgusting detail that no one needed to know, and this is the conversation that unfolded afterwards:

Cole: "That's .. dead skin cells man"

Benito: "Oh, I'll have to see a doctor"

Cole: "Just get back in the shower and scrub the shit."

Benito: "I know but it could be dangerous"

*a long pause occurs as Cole suffers a mild stroke from the fuck was said*

Cole: " So why are we having this conversation?"

Benito: "You were good at science in high school."

He then begs to hang out, Cole lies about his car being busted, and hangs up before the first of his friends started seizing up in laughter. Benito's first attempt to hang out with one of us in years opens up with him pulling a Connor Bible. I cannot even.
 
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All righty, for this segment I'll go into more detail about Botherguts and his strange notions and relationships with women.

First of all, his mother.

I genuinely felt bad for this woman. She was very clearly mentally unwell and had almost no life outside of her house. Even if she'd been physically well enough to take care of the house the way she wanted it was impossible because all of the sons, with the exception of Botherguts' youngest brother, were human wrecking balls. The oldest one had an anger problem and spent a lot of time shouting at everyone (sometimes apologizing to me in the process) the second oldest I'm fairly certain had a learning disability and Botherguts was his glorious self. His father was very nice but not a well man himself and a bit too gentle to actually do anything about his sons. Like I mentioned before, the mother used to cry a lot. Botherguts dismissed her as 'emotional.' He once promised he'd take her out to dinner for her birthday and insisted I go to, which I agreed to because I wanted her to have a nice night out. Once I got there he had decided to order pizza and a movie for her instead, and we had it in their dingy sitting room where she spent most of her life anyway. He ate most of the pizza.

Next, the Indonesian girlfriend.

He had pictures of her on his computer wallpaper. This was a house computer, used by everyone in the house, and they were very clearly catalogue pictures taken for a 'dating' website to attract desperate foreigners. She looked very young, he said she was seventeen but 'mature for her age'. She looked about thirteen. (I should probably point out that at the time I looked much younger than my age as well, and I think he got a kick out of being seen with me for that reason.) He told me a lot about this girl, how he sent her money when she broke her glasses, how he was looking for a place for her to stay when she came to live in our country, how he was going to get her a job, he had this whole plan.

Then one day while he was away and I was trying to work on his crappy computer, his chat came on and it was her. We ended up chatting for a while about her home, her family etc. and she confided in me that she could never be with Botherguts as a lover, she didn't like him like that. She was too scared of his reaction to tell him. I told her she needed to cut him off if that was the case because he had ideas about their relationship that were never going to happen and they needed to have a frank talk about it. Boom, she broke up with him. He blamed it on an old boyfriend of hers coming back into her life, but there was no such guy.

His friend's wife.

Said friend we'll call Paul. Paul was married to Molly, who was very nice to me but a bit standoffish to Botherguts and for this reason he hated her with a passion that made me suspect for a while he was at least a little bit gay for Paul. Paul was a rather nervous fellow and one of a few people in Botherguts' life that was too gentle and nice to tell him to fuck the fuck off, but Molly did set some boundaries. For one, Botherguts couldn't turn up at their house without warning and then insist on being driven home by Paul. Or if Paul did agree to drive him home, they couldn't stop for a takeaway on the way back. Also, Botherguts could not insist on teaching Molly to paint when she wanted to take an actual class, and was to refrain from 'critiqueing' the paintings she did. Botherguts often talked about how Molly was just sexually frustrated with Paul's low libido and that was why she was such a bitch. He talked about it a lot. In graphic detail. While knowing nothing about it in reality.

Sonia

As I mentioned above, Botherguts had only one talent and that was finding vulnerable women with low standards and honing in on them like a missile. Sonia had recently moved to our country from Brazil, and was really sweet and pretty and way out of his league in the normal scheme of things. So he wanted to introduce us and we went to lunch. I'm very interested in other cultures and I asked her a lot of questions about life in Brazil, what she missed from back home, stuff it wouldn't occur to Botherguts to ask because he clearly knew nothing about her other than her name, where she was from and that she was hot. He went off in a sulk at one point because we were getting on so well. Anyway, it came out that Sonia was very worried about her younger brother being involved in gang stuff back home, and she started crying. Botherguts did nothing while I handed her tissues and tried to comfort her. A week later, she was back in Brazil. He was very pissed off.

Kelly

Kelly was a woman from our country, one of the ones Botherguts had sworn never to date because they were too 'feisty' (had a backbone and standards). She was very good-looking too, out of his league as always. They had met because Botherguts was teaching an art class and zeroed in on her. She was a divorced mother of three with one grandchild so I could see why she was giving him a chance, but it made me worried for her teenage daughter because by now I was becoming aware of how creepy Botherguts was around teenage girls. I never found out why they ended it because by then I had finally had enough and gotten shot of him, but it did end very soon afterwards.

His wife

Out of curiosity, after all these years I looked him up and found out he got married. His wife is very clearly a Visa bride, in the pictures I saw she looks like she wants to be a million miles away from him. He used his marriage as part of a long, rambling excuse on his blog to explain why he hadn't made any more comics. The last one was printed shortly after I left, almost ten years ago.

Other girls

Botherguts hit on any and every woman he came across in the most ham-fisted, Austin-Powers-wannabe, sexual-predator-vibes way possible. When by some miracle it worked for a moment, he fucked it up by getting too close and too full-on. The girl from the dream interpreting was a teenager who joined as a prospective artist and he sent her a lot of sexual innuendos as 'jokes'. Literally two days after she turned eighteen, he confessed he had feelings for her and she said to me later she nearly puked. They had a falling out when she got a boyfriend her own age and didn't want to spend time with him anymore. He also rang up other prospective artists or their girlfriends to quiz them in detail about their sex lives.

And finally, me

I feel the need to re-iterate that I was very, very sheltered because if I hadn't been there was no way any of this would have happened, I would have run screaming for the hills in minutes. I have a finely attuned creep radar thanks to Botherguts, so I suppose it's not all bad. But from day one, Botherguts asked me about what I did in bed with my boyfriend, he made sexual comments about my body under the guise of helping me with my self-esteem (and I bought it because I was an idiot) and (I didn't notice this until someone else pointed it out) used to pretend I was his girlfriend when we were out together. There I was beedling away none the wiser while he was letting everyone around us think 'yeah, this one's mine.'

Once at a party I brought along a new guy I'd been seeing, and Botherguts threw a strop. I was used to his strops so didn't think much of it, but the new guy said he was horrified by the way Botherguts talked to me. (We broke up for unrelated reasons, he was a really good guy.) There were other times when I managed to get talking to industry professionals (more on that later) and other indie producers and he flat out said it was because I was wearing a low-cut top.

I finally got sick of his posturing when I won a competition and had to promote myself at an event, and he wanted me to wear a t-shirt with his stupid logo on it despite the fact that he had nothing to do with my win and in fact hated the medium I won it for. I told him that he couldn't use my boobs as a message board (which got me a round of applause from the others at this meeting) and he lamely shot back that I use them for that all the time. (Which I never actually did, I was a very modest dresser at the time. Like, Mormon modest.) I went to the event without telling him about it and two days later quit the company. He went around telling everyone I broke his heart. Apparently it was so bad he left the country shortly after and has not come back.

On the next installment, I'll talk about Botherguts' 'career.'
 
Okay so, I'm only putting this story here because I'm not sure if it's worthy of its own thread; she's rather obscure if you're not looking for shit about her. She even has her own Encyclopedia Dramatica.

So this person was formerly Fluttershyrules5 on DeviantArt, but she changed her username to CustardSwirl. And oh boy, existing with this user was quite the roller coaster.

At first I didn't know her too well; knew someone who was friends with her, and that was about it. I don't want to get into too many details about what happened for the sake of preserving my identity- because I foolishly made myself a part of the drama for a little bit. Anyways, Flutter is friends with Person. Flutter probably does something stupid (I forget what exactly it was; I think it was something to do with being a manipulative cunt), Person cut ties with her, and Flutter proceeds to harass Person for... About three years and counting.

Well, maybe harass is a stretch. It's more like bitching and moaning on public journals, but she does keep making new accounts to get back at Person or talk to them again. We're all thinking she's secretly obsessed with them or something... it's kind of freaky. But I think what the best part is how many reactions this one person has incited within people with just her words.

- Panic attacks
- Anxiety attacks
- Alleged suicide attempts
- Hospitalizations (???)

Honestly, the Lolcow seems more like the shitfest she caused rather than her herself. But like I said, she has an encyclopedia dramatica page- as well as numerous rant videos on youtube and a journal on deviantart- so, if you're willing to read/listen about the utter shitstorm she caused in more detail, you know where to go.

Anyway, the latest drama involving her was actually digging up old screenshots from this conversation that her and Person's ex boyfriend had, and it involved him questioning his feelings about his girlfriend, Flutter coming onto him (DA Roleplay style; that bit was fun to read), etc. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a screenshot and she took the journal down before I even thought of making this post, so you don't have to believe me if you don't want to. Someone might've gotten a screenshot of it anyway, considering how hugely involved with her drama some of these people are. And some of these were the people who were hugely involved with Akai Dalia's drama, if anyone knows about all of that.

Oh. And she pretends to be "insane!! XD" sometimes and roleplays when she talks, and always follows her sentences with "~" and it's just a great time.

Have fun, guys. B]
 
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Here's a guy I haven't thought about in years, but was reminded of a bit ago. We'll call him Proctor the Butt Doctor for reasons that will become obvious. The first thing you'd notice was the smell. This kid stank like I didn't think was possible. Smelled like rancid meat, dog shit, cat piss, sweat and god only knows what. And it was a lingering smell. You could usually tell if he'd been someplace recently. You could walk into an empty room and just fucking gag.

He had the look of someone that had never touched water. Just looked really dry and dirty I guess. And always seemed to be wearing blue jeans and a blue denim jacket. Early in school we all just thought he must fart constantly to stink that bad. Little kids have no concept of someone who is just that filthy.

He had the voice of Grover from Sesame Street, and a rising speech pattern that made everything he said sound like a question. Like an 80s valley girl. He was irritating to have to listen to, which was unfortunate because he talked constantly. Nobody really liked him, but he constantly demanded to be the center of attention, and he was very hard to ignore.

I first met him in kindergarten. He was my assigned seat partner on the bus. That didn't last long. He wouldn't stay put, jumped from seat to seat like a monkey and yelled a lot. When he wasn't doing that, he'd tell wild stories about various things, a few of which were:

-He was secretly the white power ranger (there was no white power ranger yet at this point) and his name was Superflash.
-He rode a supercycle motorcycle that could turn invisible. That's why nobody could see it. Also it could fly and was totally parked on his roof. Why he rode the bus then was anyone's guess.
-His nickname was Brad, because it's short for his name. (His name is not Bradley).
-He and his sister would break into the abandoned church next door at midnights on full moons to battle the evil spirit of their dead father with kitchen knives.
-The typical uncle that works for Nintendo stories.
-That he was a famous songwriter. Three that I remember him claiming to write are "Be My Baby Tonight" by John Michael Montgomery, "It's Your Love" by Tim McGraw, and "Turn Back Time" by Aqua. He was a big Aqua fan. No clue why he didn't claim to write "Barbie Girl" it was his favorite.

Soon though, he got made to sit in the front seat, with a seatbelt, right behind the driver. That lasted about a day because he kept reaching up and trying to rub and touch her hair. He was then moved across the aisle.

His is a story about a kid that was fucked up in lots of ways, but school and bus staff seemed to bend over backwards to accommodate him and keep him around.

So far this is just typical lolcow stuff, but it gets so much worse...

These all happened roughly between 1995-1999

Nobody ever really called him by his first name, always just Proctor. He always liked to tell stories about how he'd trick people, get into places, or evade enemies by pretending to be someone named "Croptor". Which he insisted was Proctor spelled backward. He was very proud of his name.

One day in about 2nd grade, we had a substitute teacher who was teaching us about name origins. Smith=Blacksmith, Chandler=Candlemaker, etc. Fascinating stuff.

He piped up and asked what Proctor meant.
"Uhh, well, I'm-ah, not quite sure on that one actually..."
"WHAAAAT?"
"I'm not sure, I think it means proctologist, but I may be wrong... that's a kind of doctor but I'm not sure I should--"
"SAY IT, WOMAN!" (He had no respect for anyone female, even teachers. He kept yelling...)
"Fine! It's a BUTT DOCTOR! Proctor is a BUTT DOCTOR! Happy now?!"
The whole class laughed our asses off and Proctor scored a nickname that would stick forever.
One day, Proctor showed up wearing glasses. Big, thick, Buddy Holly looking fuckers that would make any hipster proud. Nobody really noticed or cared. But Proctor wouldn't shut up about them "I'm too cool for these! I'll break 'em! I can't look like a dork, I'm one of the cool kids!" and on and on.

The teachers had all been told by his mother that he was to be watched like a hawk because he'd try to wreck the glasses. They kept watch until he managed to slip away between lunch and the next class, and he wasn't wearing the glasses when he arrived. And he was smelling worse than usual. The teacher was grilling him on where he'd put them, when the janitor stepped in and called him out to the hallway. We all followed and saw that the boys' bathroom was flooding water into the hall. The janitor ordered him to go in and retrieve what he'd plugged the urinal with.

He'd apparently snuck away to the bathroom during lunch, purposely shit his pants (Barney the dinosaur briefs), took off the dirty, crapped briefs, stuck the glasses into the shit, rolled the glasses up in the briefs like a horrid burrito, then stuffed them into the urinal. He tried to flush it down but it wouldn't go. He pulled so hard the handle broke and started pouring water. He then put his jeans back on, wiped his shitty hands on them and ran to class. There was a boy in the far stall he didn't notice who snitched him out. Said he could tell by the smell, and Proctor's nonstop cackling and giggling and talking to himself.

He was made to grab his briefs from the urinal wash them out in the sink, and put the glasses back on. He managed to wreck them at home within the week, and never again had glasses.
He was a big fan of the song "Barbie Girl" by Aqua, but that wasn't where the Barbie adventures ended. One day he was running around the playground getting everyone's attention, so we all followed to see what he was up to. He stood under a tree and was taking his shoes off, told us all to get ready, he was about to do something cool. It wasn't cool at all. He whipped his pants off super fast and was wearing bright pink frilly Barbie pantyhose. We'd all thought he was gonna climb the tree and jump onto the fence or something. No such luck. He starts bragging about how those were his sister's pantyhose and he wore them because he had no clean briefs. About this time the playground aide comes over and goes "Oh my, young man, where are your underwear?!" to which he replied "I crapped 'em all, WOMAN!" and goes streaking away at top speed, throwing his jeans over the fence as he runs. He spent the rest of the day in the office.

Also, he'd always boast about having a "My Size Barbie". Those were a 3 foot tall dress-up doll. He'd always tell everyone he had one in his bed that he'd drilled a hole where the vagina would be (right below the belly button, of course) and how he'd stick his dick in that hole and just hump it all night. He'd always make up bizarre stories, but that one seemed plausible.
Somehow, around 5th grade when we all started middle school, a 10-foot-high chainlink fence sprung up all around Proctor's yard. Looked like a prison exercise yard. And soon there were at least 6 massive great danes in there. Those are not a cheap dog, so how they got one let alone 5 or 6 is a mystery to me. Absolutely no clue how they fed them either.

The house was an ancient two-story stone house with a rickety, holey porch all the way around. The porch soon was completely coated in dog shit. Also the dogs broke out all the first floor windows by jumping in and out of them. The solution was to take all the doors from the upstairs rooms and nail them over the downstairs windows. The door was left open for the dogs.

The house had a wraparound roof for the porch, which the hoarded 30+ cats would congregate on. Now that the dogs had free run of the 2nd floor too it wasn't uncommon to see great danes up shitting on the roof and jumping in and out the 2nd floor windows. The cats (and presumably the Supercycle) were relegated to the main roof where the dogs couldn't reach.
I actually took these the other day when I had to drive through the area. In the first one you can clearly see the outline where the porch roof was. Yes, great danes were running around that high up. The porch is gone now as well and so is the fence. To the right is the abandoned church where all sorts of spiritual warfare supposedly took place. Someone must have bought the house, installed windows and a roof, then abandoned it from the looks of things. It's actually a big improvement.
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Another view. You can see there used to be very large trees between the sidewalk and road. They used the trees as fenceposts and actually fenced the sidewalk into their dog pen. The fence was right to the edge of the road. Guess nobody minded enough to make an issue of it.
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From what I've heard from the crew that cleaned that house out after Butt Doctor and co. abandoned it around 12 years ago, it was not pretty. The toilet had broken years before so they shit in it until it was full, then did the same to the toilet tank, sink and bathtub. Apparently there was also shit piled high in corners of rooms that wasn't from the dogs and cats. Fortunately this had all been sitting about 2 years so they just shoveled it out in large brick-like clumps, and removed all the sinks, tubs, etc, entirely and tossed them.
One day in middle school, probably around halfway through 7th grade we were all getting off the bus when an Aide lady walks up and grabs hold of Proctor and takes him away. In school we notice her walking him between classes, and in every class he's in, there's now an extra desk and the aide is sitting there reading a book or whatever she does. After a week or so of her being his shadow, some friends and I asked her what was going on. Her, being a rather disgruntled aide who had no problem telling us everything, explained.

About a week before, between classes, the assistant principal was making the rounds and checking the boys bathrooms for kids trying to smoke or skip class. He walks into the boys room across from the cafeteria and sees two sets of legs, pants around ankles, in front of the toilet in the handicap stall. Loud mumbling and grunting going on. No, it couldn't be. Stall door was open. Walks in.

OH DEAR GOD.

Proctor had one of the sped kids (same age, not a re.tarded one, just ADHD or something) bent over the toilet and was railing him as balls deep and hard as a 7th grader can. The assistant principal grabbed them and dragged both of them to the office. At this point the aide told us that as he was getting pulled away, Proctor started screaming "Ahh! Ahh! I'm stuck! It won't come out!" or something like that and kept insisting he tripped and fell and his pecker ended up in his friend's ass and he wasn't fucking him, he was just attempting to pull it back out and it just looked bad because they got caught at the wrong time.

Parents were called, conferences were had and the best course of action was determined to be giving Proctor a round-the-clock aide who met him at the bus in the morning, followed him everywhere through school including clearing out the bathrooms before he went in and blocking the door so nobody else got in with him, and escorting him back to the bus at the end of the day. We did not envy her. I imagine she got a decent pay raise for being his personal wrangler though. She did it for at least two years. Proctor was only unaccompanied on the bus. It wouldn't last. He'd soon get a bus aide as well.
He also had a habit of yelling in the hallways "I've got a big corn cob up my butt from (random student's name)!" He'd always try to provoke people to hit him. Nobody knew why, but nobody ever punched him out because everyone knew he wiped his ass with his hand and never bathed. He was totally immune to bullying and he knew it. Nobody fucked with him, but it wasn't because we were scared. We just didn't want to get lice or whatever else he had. But it was usually lice.
The bus was the only bit of freedom he now had, and he took full advantage. Jumping, yelling, screaming along with the music on the radio, and shouting out "music facts" that only he knew. Like did you know that the "stomp stomp clap" part of We Will Rock You was censorship? Yeah, apparently in the "dirty" version Freddie Mercury yells "dick dick DICK!" Proctor of course has the only tape of the dirty version, and you can't hear it because reasons.

Despite being up front he still annoyed the whole bus. One day a new kid joined the bus route. He was about 6, and was made to sit up front with Proctor because he was too young to sit farther back. This was a mistake. About a half hour into the bus ride we all hear a bloodcurdling shriek followed by bawling and crying. Bus driver pulls over and screams "PROCTOR WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?" It was the little kid screaming.

Proctor stands up and goes "Woman! He would not stop talking about Pokemon, so I grabbed him by the balls, then pulled and twisted HARD! Then he just crossed his arms and sat back down. Next day the little kid was gone and Proctor had a bus aide too. I can't imagine why the school wasted so much taxpayer money keeping this stinky fucker around. He had no interest in school or learning whatsoever. Not too long after that bus incident I moved away.
Flash forward to the present...
Proctor disappeared not long after I moved. Good riddance. I heard once he moved in with a juggalette and had a few kids but other than that he was totally gone. Until the other day a friend showed me this:
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Yeah that's a mugshot. Apparently our good friend Proctor is a rapist and will probably be remaining locked up for life.

At least they'll make him take a shower.
I decided to do a dramatic reading of this wonderful story. My microphone's not the best and my sound editing skills can best be described as rudimentary, but I hope people enjoy it. I decided to use my natural voice for everything except Proctor where I put on my best Grover impression, so I hope you don't mind the sound of a nasally limey reading it:










 
I decided to do a dramatic reading of this wonderful story. My microphone's not the best and my sound editing skills can best be described as rudimentary, but I hope people enjoy it. I decided to use my natural voice for everything except Proctor where I put on my best Grover impression, so I hope you don't mind the sound of a nasally limey reading it:

Holy shit that is amazing and I love it! Also the Proctor voice is dead on.
It's one of those things where it takes hearing someone else do it to really remember just how Grover-y he sounded. I laughed my ass off. Also, the narration is good, but now I can't stop hearing an Englishman reciting everything I type as I type it.

Chris-chan has Christory, well here's some more Proctology for anyone interested:

This one always baffled me because it wasn't in any way believable. At all. He insisted that anything with the initials "BP" he owned. Because apparently that's how things work. This included the BP gas station near the school, as he'd proudly mention each and every time we'd roll by on the school bus. He insisted he could go in and just take anything anytime. Maybe that's how he fueled the supercycle? I never once saw him in there, which makes me think he'd probably gotten banned for trying to steal at some point.
He was always bringing things into school to try and sell. Or just to show off and rub in everyone's face how rich he was going to be from selling it. To whom was always a mystery. More than once his treasure was a bicentennial quarter.
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He'd keep showing it off and telling us how he found it between his floorboards at home, and that it was from 1776, and was going to make him a millionaire. He had no explanation for why it also said 1976 (There was no such thing as a normal 1976 quarter. These are common as dirt.) I think he usually ended up putting it in the pencil machine.
Sometimes though, he'd bring in actual interesting things, possibly worth money, and just hand them out. Which is how I got this:
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It seems to be a WWI soldier's pocket bible. It's canvas with a paper 48-star flag on front, and has the original national anthem ("America") inside, as well as "Onward, Christian Soldiers" and others in addition to the New Testament. No names or anything to really identify it though. At one point he gave me a large ziploc bag full of 20-sided dice. I couldn't find those though. Years later I found out that the old brick building down the street from his house was turned into a thrift store by an old man in the 1980s then abandoned with all the stuff still inside. I think Proctor would just sneak in there and take things, so that's likely where the bible came from. A WWI pocket bible seems random, but there was a reason for it. Proctor always had reasons.
He was a big believer in ghosts and demons. His older sister got him into that I'm sure. They'd sneak into the abandoned church next door to battle their father's ghost. With their knife and stapler of course. I'm still not even sure the guy was dead, he just didn't live with them. I wouldn't blame him. Proctor had odd views about the bible, in that since it could ward off devils and demons (at least in the movies) that it could be used to summon them as well, since they were mentioned in it. That's why he gave me that bible. He took it into that church and couldn't summon the devil with it. It was clearly broken and of no further use. He also would talk about a Ouija board he had, and how it was so evil that he'd take it out of his house and try to burn it, bury it, etc, but he'd find it back in his closet the next day. Seems that would be more the thing to summon the devil with, but I don't think he ever tried. I think he thought if demons came from the Ouija board he'd be unable to stop or control them, whereas with a bible he could just call forth God and Jesus if the devils got out of hand. Kid was weird.
Our middle school was interesting. A 3-story 1920s building coupled to a 2-story 1970s building, with a 1950s gym in its own building, all joined together by hallways into one huge building. Which led to some interesting features like having to walk through the library to get to a few classrooms, oddly slanting floors, including one entire hallway sloping upward from the 2nd floor of the new section to the 2nd/3rd floor landing of the old section, and an upstairs gym in between classrooms and directly above the auditorium. Some real Wayside School architecture there.

Main gym was in the large gym, off at the one far end of the school. The building used to be a high school in the 50s and 60s so this was a full size gym built around that time, with a basement locker room/shower area. There was a hallway running the whole way around the gym, with classrooms around it. The noisiness of the area was perfect for locating louder classes like music class, the band room, and the special ed department. There were two sped rooms. TMI (teachably mentally impaired) for kids with Downs and such, and SMI (severely mentally impaired) which were functional on Hartley Hooligan level. The TMI kids got to play in the gym almost any time they liked, which was almost all the time there weren't normal gym classes going on. The only thing they loved more than gym play was the extra long group shower they'd take after.

They'd get completely naked, dash all around the locker room, and hang out in the showers for as long as they were allowed to. It was a large shower with about 10 nozzles which always had hot water and had two settings, on and off. Their showers often ran well into our gym time so we'd typically get ready for class with the TMI kids just running around naked and splashing each other with water. Proctor wasn't in my gym class, but the big asshole bully kid was. And one day, Proctor left his locker open.

Needless to say, his locker stunk horribly. Bully asshole noticed it unlocked and decided he was going to grab Proctor's clothes and whip them into the showers with the tards, and wash them for once. He grabbed a coat hanger so as not to touch the clothes, then hooked them with it and tossed them into the heavily steam filled shower room. Tards giggled and kept showering. So far so good. But then, Bully looked back in the locker and noticed something else in there:
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The biggest bottle of English Leather cologne I'd ever seen. Looked like a giant novelty bottle, at least a pint, and 3/4 full. Horrible smelling stuff to us 12-year olds. What Proctor was doing with it was anyone's guess, as he never smelled of anything but shit. Bully gets a great idea. He's already got the clothes soaking in soapy hot water (and being agitated by tard trampling), he's now going to make sure they never smell like dog shit again!

We couldn't see into shower room, it was so hot and steamed up and the tards showed no sign of leaving anytime soon. We couldn't see them, but they were laughing and shouting as usual. The hot water never ran out and the sped teachers would take a nice long break, so nobody was coming to get them. There were probably 15 of them in there. Bully decides to put his plan into action. He grabs the glass cologne bottle by the wooden knob cap, and hurls it into the mists of the shower like a grenade. We hear it miss the tards and shatter against the tile of the back wall. They go silent at the noise, and within seconds begin to scream as the cologne is hit by the showers and becomes a noxious fog because of the heat and steam. They do not like this development one bit and stampede right on out of there, knocking over lockers, benches, trashcans and kids on their way out. (The thing about re.tard strength? Completely true.) They race up the stairs but turn left instead of right so instead of the sped room, they reach the cafeteria. People are screaming as they dash in all naked, soaking, and stinking of cologne. (The thing about re.tards having huge floppy dongs down to their knees? Apparently also true.)

They got calmed down. And even got to take another shower after a bit so they were all thrilled. None of them got hurt on the broken bottle. Nobody got in trouble for tossing in the clothes or cologne, as it was assumed the tards did it, as they had done it before with footballs, backpacks, and whatever else they felt like. Nobody snitched on the bully either. I don't think I'd ever seen anything quite so hilarious before.
When this site went down, I was forced to do other things, such as talk to actual people about actual things. A friend who was in the same grade as Proctor and I came over and I mentioned writing about him. He had been friends with a cousin of Proctor's and got a slightly different report of the story from him. He had heard that when the vice principal walked into the bathroom, Proctor hadn't been pounding his friend in the ass so much as he was struggling to break free. Spit doesn't make a good lubricant and soon after starting, it dried up and his friend became a Chinese finger trap. They were stuck like dogs and when the vice principal pushed open the stall door, it gave him such a fright he spun around, pulling out violently and causing them both to scream.

My friend said he told his parents when he heard about it, that Proctor got caught butt-humpin' his friend. His parents told him that "humpin" was inappropriate to say, and that "rumpin" was somehow better. He thought this was hilarious, and "butt-rumpin" became a fun new word around school. Also, the act was completely consensual, as much as two 12-year olds can consent, and Proctor was probably more of just an opportunistic pervert than really into guys.
I found my old yearbook from the 6th grade the other day, and not only did it have his picture, and also his ghost-hunting sister, but he signed it as well. I have the Butt Doctor's autograph! It was one of those things where everyone had to sign everyone's yearbook, so I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. This is from roughly around the time of the bathroom thing. 1998-1999. The school was demolished about 10 years ago and I have no idea what became of any of these people other than Proctor and his sister. Apparently she's a cook at a KFC. I've never been so relieved that I don't eat KFC.

Here we go!
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The good doctor himself. With his hair actually brushed. That look though...
You can also see another habit of his, he'd often wear button-up or low cut v-neck shirts with nothing on underneath, as he's doing in this photo. What he's wearing here is some sort of satiny sports jersey thing, not exactly sure what it was.

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The vice principal who caught him in the act. I don't envy him.

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The aide with the patience of a saint who would become his reluctant escort.

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The ghost-obsessed sister. Yes, she has cold sores on her mouth. Always did. And facial warts too.

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His autograph. Seems to have spelled his name wrong, then corrected it.

I can't think of anything else right now. So, that may be all for the butt doctor. I'm glad people enjoyed reading about him, I never expected him to be so popular, but he seems to have some fans, evidently!
 
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I decided to do a dramatic reading of this wonderful story. My microphone's not the best and my sound editing skills can best be described as rudimentary, but I hope people enjoy it. I decided to use my natural voice for everything except Proctor where I put on my best Grover impression, so I hope you don't mind the sound of a nasally limey reading it:










This is the best thing ever. Also you sound a lot like Stuart Ashen.
 
Holy shit that is amazing and I love it! Also the Proctor voice is dead on.
I'm glad the author himself gave me the seal of approval. Good to hear I got the voice right - I was afraid it was sounding a bit Russian in places.
This is the best thing ever. Also you sound a lot like Stuart Ashen.
Lol, really? I think I'm a bit less refined than Ashens.
 
I'm glad the author himself gave me the seal of approval. Good to hear I got the voice right - I was afraid it was sounding a bit Russian in places.

Lol, really? I think I'm a bit less refined than Ashens.
I dunno, your voice made me picture you as some upper-class brit wearing a smoking jacket in a room full of books or something.

Also, the way you read his lines in the glasses story was well worth the "winner" rating.
 
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I dunno, your voice made me picture you as some upper-class brit wearing a smoking jacket in a room full of books or something.

Also, the way you read his lines in the glasses story was well worth the "winner" rating.
I wish I owned a smoking jacket.

Lol, I was quite proud of my delivery there if I say so myself.
 
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@TheGreatCitracett I'm confused, was Proctor actually in the tard class, or did he just forget his gym clothes in the locker or something? 'Cause he sure doesn't seem like he'd have been the showering type.
 
@TheGreatCitracett I'm confused, was Proctor actually in the tard class, or did he just forget his gym clothes in the locker or something? 'Cause he sure doesn't seem like he'd have been the showering type.

He wasn't in the tard class. He was in 1st period gym, first thing in the morning, I was in 3rd period gym. Gym was vacant 2nd period and that's when the tards would jog and play kickball, then shower for a long ass time. Usually they'd still be in there when my class arrived.

We weren't made to shower if we didn't want to, as they couldn't force us to get naked or anything, but we were required to have a change of clothes kept in a gym locker, and could change in a stall area if we wanted. Which was what Proctor did. Gym clothes were required to be shorts and a t-shirt or tank top. For whatever reason, he just cut the legs off some old jeans and used those.

His locker smelled awful because at the end of each week (or as often as desired) we were supposed to take the gym clothes home to be washed, and he wouldn't do it.

He would simply leave them in his locker, and just bring in different shorts and shirt every few weeks.
 
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