Turkish Delight

 It was July 3rd, 1996 or it might have been July 3rd, 1997 but judging from the size of my waist it had to have been closer to 1995 than 2000. Whatever year it was me and three miscreants who I share many common interests with were drinking at an after hours bar on Connecticut Avenue in Washington, DC.

We were all in our twenties and on nights when we weren't drinking we were beating the shit out of each other, and when we weren't beating the shit out of each other we were in Virginia eating raw beef mixed with pair and raw egg, but this night we were taking it easy and just drinking.

We were out till four or five in the morning and I remember all five of us laughing uncontrollably on the way home to the townhouse that we rented from a crazy old Pennsylvania game bird with a high pitched voice named Harold Corman. My long time friend and roommate who almost flushed himself down a toilet after the Jets lost the AFC Championship game last year, the Grumbler, was driving, Finn Hudson's doppelganger was ridding shotgun, a guy relatively new to our crew with  the remarkable distinction of becoming the fastest made man ever inducted into the family. But even more impressive than that Finn doesn't have a single drop of Jersey blood in his entire body. Me and the Apologist, who I've been friends with since the beginning of time were in the back seat. Sitting between the Apologist and myself was a lovely young girl that we met at the bar who simply introduced herself to us as the letter X.

 We get inside the townhouse after a fifteen minute car ride from the after hour dive and X puts a lollipop in her mouth and tells us that she wants to watch a porn flick. Literally within seconds a brown paper shopping bag overflowing with raggedy VHS tapes mystically appears out of the thin blue air. I forget which one we put in, but it definitely wasn't Turkish Delight.

Turkish Delight is a gripping erotic mystery about a priceless diamond that gets stolen on a several day train journey by a cunning jewel thief from Turkey who tells various gentlemen she encounters throughout the film that she cant have sexual intercourse because it's against her religion for an unmarried woman to have sex, but apparently her religion doesn't take any issue with sodomy what so ever and by the promiscuous nature of this jewel thief's willingness to bend over a passenger seat, half way through this skin flick you start believing that sodomy with strange men on a train moving through a European countryside is not only encouraged by her religion, but is also a fundamental core belief of hers as well .The movie has a classic signature line "blah blah blah, but you can put it here".

I don't want to spoil the ending for those of you who decide to catch it, but I can personally guarantee that you'll never find it at Blockbuster. And really, the only way you'll ever have a chance of getting your hands on a copy of Turkish Delight is if you have a fundamental core belief of your own that enables you to bend over the chair you're sitting on right now and can key in a sixteen digit number at the same time. Takes a lot of talent. You also have to have a willingness to pay an additional seven or eight dollars for shipping from ass fucking sites like amazon.com. Take this 2010 product from Mattel sold exclusively at Target for example. It has a six dollar asking price and I desperately need it for er... a collection I'm building for Max and Ben but no way am I paying 50 bucks for a figure that was just released in March. He looks amazing though.

One night after getting kicked in the head by one of my roommates I arrived home a little earlier than usual to heal and since the three of them were still in DC trying to decaptiate one and other I had the joint to myself. So I put Turkish Delight in for some much needed relief only to find out that one of the raw beef eating cannibals that lived with me had  taped over it with A FUCKING TAE KWON DO TOURNEMENT that had been shown randomly at 3:30 in the morning on ESPN on some random Wednesday morning or some shit. It felt like I'd just been kicked in the balls and it hurt even more than the kick I took to the head. And now back to X.

So all five of us sit down to watch some wholesome family video and X  reaches down into her bag and pulls out a coloring book and a box of crayons and starts going to town with her crayolas. After witnessing that colorful scene within minutes all of us were fast a sleep in our beds.

Except for X that is. She was sitting on the couch watching porn and coloring.

We only slept a few hours because it was now officially the 4th of July and we were about to throw the biggest party we had ever planned to date. We had friends coming in from New York, West Virginia, New Jersey, Western Maryland, and Western Pennsylvania. Folks from all walks of life were coming to this Super Party ranging from small town sheep fucking hick to overeducated big city ivy league bore.

Sometimes the Grumbler would have a tendency to stress out a bit before big events such as a test or a Super Party like the one we were about to throw and we had a ton of shit to do before the event, like buy food and pick people up form the airport etc.

Let's just say that waking up to find X sitting in our kitchen clearly with no intention of changing the clothes she had worn the day before talking on the phone to god only knows who probably about all the stroke marks she made with her crayons while she watched money shot after money shot in our living room while we were sleeping didn't do wonders for the Grumbler's stress level. Plus, why the fuck was she still at our house and when the fuck was she leaving?

The Jersey birds started arriving as early as noon because our Jersey crew always arrives hours early when folks like the Grumbler and KJR are running the show. Everyone was coming early actually because we were going down to the National Mall to watch the most amazing annual fireworks display in the world BAR NONE!

Shortly after the Jersey Crew showed up guests from all over the East Coast started arriving in droves. But instead of exchanging pleasantries and pouring cocktails for our company The Grumbler, The Apologist, and myself spent the next three hours explaining X to whole damn lot.  "Oh you mean her? Her name is X and she's just some chick that we let come home with us from some seedy bar last night who likes to color while she watches porn with four complete strangers that she just met and knows nothing about. How's Yale going for you?"

Once we were finally done telling all of our guests the story of X we were half way down the street and on our way to the subway to get to the National Mall. Thanks to a miracle performed by a few of our lady friends X  faded into a see of thousands never to be seen or heard from again. At least not by us. If I'm not mistaken I think our X problem was handled by a Jersey Girl who never has kicked anyone in the head.

With X gone and the booze really starting to flow the rest of the night was smooth sailing. At least it was for Captain Corky kids. ;)

And that's the story of X. One thing that concerns me about this post though: What happens if X decides to Google her letter someday and finds the log? How the hell am I going to handle that shit?!?

Later this week a very special three part Corky's log facebook exclusive called Fluctuating Weight: The Story of My Gut in Pictures as told by Captain Corky, Jelly, and The Real Kid.