Every other Wednesday, Ryan McKee will imagine what it might be like to date your friends. You submit your friend's MySpace page, and he will date them. Maybe even for real.
Use the form at the right to log in for more options.
In the mid-90's, Tonya Harding became a hack joke. Sure, she's the first American woman to land the triple axle, but she's become so infamous that women stopped naming their babies "Tonya.' Since 1997, according to the US Actuary's office, "Tonya" plummeted off their list of 1,000 most popular birth names.
There was the Kerrigan scandal, but there's also a sex tape of Tonya, she's had multiple run-ins with the law, she rents a trailer outside of Portland, she was the "celebrity manager" for wrestler "The American Love Machine," she began boxing, she started a band called The Golden Blades, and this month she called police claiming a bunch of guys were stashing shotguns on her property (later her agent said she'd also been seeing animals, but attributed the hallucinations to Tonya's 'allergy medication'). She's a beautiful, beautiful mess and internet creeps love it. On TonyaHarding.com (a site not endorsed by her), there's a section where "fans' can post Fantasy Encounters with Tonya. In their stories, they fuck her, fight her, rob banks with her, go grocery shopping with her, fuck her in the rain, fuck her in the ass, and end it with fucking her some more. One Oregon man wrote: "I broke her legs and sat my beer on her head." Now, I referred to them as internet creeps, but when I stumbled across the site, I couldn't stop reading. Finally I realized, what they're doing isn't much different from my column. So I decided to throw my dick in the skating rink and write a Tonya Harding Fantasy Date. This week iDate Tonya Harding (I'm also going to post it on TonyaHarding.com and see what they say).
The Date
To be in the same mindset as Tonya, I start smoking crystal meth. I veg out to infomercials, talk shows, and Court TV. I bite the ends off of Red Vines and use them as straws to slurp up Keystone Light. I compulsively clean my bathroom sink, but neglect everything else. I punch a makeshift punching bag (which is a pillow I nailed to the ceiling). I grind my teeth, brush them, then drink more beer through a red vine.
After 72 sleepless hours, I'm not hallucinating but I do have the uncontrollable urge to hide shotguns on Tonya's property.
While I'm stashing my third pump-action Remington behind a bush adorned in discarded Natural Ice cans, Tonya flies out of trailer pointing a shotgun of her own at me.
"Baby!" I say excitedly.
"I knew you'd be back! You were here before weren't you? Stashing your guns!"
"No, that was your delusional brain""
"Shut up!" she screams so furiously that the gun slips from her hands and fires when it hits the ground. The blast rips through the back window of her pickup truck. "Fuck! My probation! I'm not supposed to be shooting in my front yard!"
She grabs my hand and pulls me inside her trailer. Pizza boxes and cigarette butts cover the floor. The smell is akin to a wolverine raping a skunk. However, her demeanor switches from angry pit bull to neglected tabby cat. She embraces me and says, "Jeff, you've finally come back."
Am I Jeff? I'm so whacked out on rot-gut beer and meth, I'm not sure. Unfortunately, she gains a moment of clarity and realizes I'm not.
"Stop pretending to Jeff!" she yells and throws a well-trained right hook into my nose. It snaps like a popsicle stick. My blood Jackson-Pollacks the room.
"Fuck!" I scream and fling a lamp at her head.
She ducks it, but the violence seems to trigger a motherly instinct in her. Sitting me down on the couch, she grabs a cold 40 ounce from the fridge and tells me to hold it against my nose. She disappears in the bathroom for a second and returns with a horse tranquilizer.
After gulping it down with some beer, I'm no longer worried about my broken nose. I drift off to a land of pink trailer-park clouds and frosted bangs.
When I awake, my ass is frozen. I'm laying naked in the middle of an ice skating rink. Tonya is skating naked. My first thought is, "Wow, for a meth-head she has a fat ass." My second this is, "Who are those three guys in flannel shirts watching us?"
One of them sees I've awoken and yells, "Look, he wants us to use him as a Zamboni machine again."
I again blackout.
When I come to, Tonya's riding me like I'm Zamboni machine on hydraulics. We're back in her trailer.
"That feel good, baby?" she says.
"I can't feel a thing," I tell her.
"If you want, you can put my curling iron on your nuts. That's what Steve does to get it going."
I can hear Steve in the bathroom, screaming, "Yeah, that's the trick!" The smell of burning nutsack and public hair drifts from that direction.
I blackout for the last time
I awake shivering and naked in a ditch. I'm cradling an ice skate. The laces are broken. There's a little blood and a little semen on it. I'm unsure if either is mine. I am sure that both my legs are broken.
Tonya's standing over me with a crowbar.
"I didn't break your legs," she says. "I'm just using this crowbar to open up a steam trunk of allergy medication."
I know she's lying, but how could I be mad at her? I still feel the effects of the horse tranquilizer.
I tore threw that article with a ferosity never before known, because I was nearly forced to do more actual work. I don't know if I even enjoyed it that much because of all the pent up anticipation. It's kinda like back in highschool when I had to spend like 2 hours convincing some stupid bitch to fuck me, then it was all over in a minute and a half... yeah, I guess this too was worth it, but man, blue balls had nearly set in.
So to quell the angry voice in my head, i imagined that as your final blackout approached you started wheeping uncontrolably and repeatedly screaming, "why me! Oh why me!?"
Otherwise, great stuff. ...and tonya is a trash name. Although with tanya is trashier.
Posts: 2831 Rank: 2 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
Philadelphia, PA
Posted: 3/28/2007 11:52:13 AM
I can't believe you just said that she was once doable! My whole perfect image of you is totally blown and you have said some fucked up shit. Tonya Harding (pre-psycho) was never doable. She wore tons and tons of blue eye shadow and had waterfall bangs. She was the epitome of trash. Now take it back.
Ryan, I agree that this was the best one yet. Also, I seriously was used as the Zamboni before...3 times.
Tom A on this one. Who's never fucked a trailer park skank, seriously. The only thing Tonya was missing back in the day was the tramp stamp... man I hope she picked up some bad tattoos along the way to down and out.
Also, figure skaters have the worlds greatest asses.
Use the form at the right to log in for more options.
