Encounters with the Rich and Famous

Nick Kaczur might be the worst human being alive.


Here's why:

So, my buddy works in security at Gillette Stadium. Specifically, in the Patriot's wives section (No, this isn't a story about how Belichick rails his player's wives, or how my buddy got down with Mrs. Wilfork in the press box). But, in addition to player's wives, often times players that are injured will sit in this section as well. This was toward the beginning of the 2008 season, and so Nick Kaczur was currently out of action and sitting in this particular section. Nick Kaczur the OC addict. Nick Kaczur the narc. Nick Kaczur the snitch... BITCH.

So Prick Kaczur and his wife (from here on out referred to as "Bitch" Kaczur) are enjoying the game, when Bitch gets thirsty. So, she gets up and saunters over to the Margarita saleswoman, and asks for a Bud Light. The Margarita girl informs her that she sells, well, margaritas, and not Bud Light and Bitch will have to find her piss water somewhere else. So, Bitch tells Margarita girl to go get her a Bud Light... Yeah.

Margarita girl refuses, and a no doubt, an enlightened and civil debate ensues.

Prick comes to the aid of his spoiled, potentially retarded, most certainly loathsome wife and Margarita girl, having had enough of this shitshow, decides to flee the scene. And like any good, consistent snitch would do, Prick goes to get security in order to "tell on" Margarita girl. So Prick accuses Maragarita girl of all kinds of offenses, not realizing the favor she did for him. Namely, the informing of a spoiled rotten bitch that the world does not revolve around her shitty taste in alcohol (I mean, it's a hot day and you ain't got shit to do. Just drink a fucking margarita). Sadly, security was unable to locate Margarita girl, and the pouty fuckfaces that are Prick and Bitch are escorted back to their seats.

When they return, Prick is overheard uttering the following statement; "She's lucky we couldn't find her, because I definitely would have gotten her ass fired. Wouldn't have been the first time, either."

Wouldn't have been the first time you were a huge asshole either, prick. Pretty sure he was the architect of the whole spygate thing. After all, he does have experience.

Encounters with the Rich and Famous

In the Year 2000...


I was heading off to college in some crazy Midwestern part of America. Instead of flying directly to my intended location for the next four years, we flew into the only worthwhile city in the entire Midwest. Namely, Chicago.

We were seeing the sites and doing the things, etc. when suddenly Mama Bear, Papa Bear, and Baby Bear fell hungry. So where could a hungry family of three find delicious food in a sprawling metropolis such a Chicago? Why HOOTERS, of course! Nothing screams"Family Time" like dad and son sharing a boner, whilst feasting visually on some D cups.

So we sit there for a while, enjoying our semi-digestible food as well as our last few hours together before we head north toward my freshman haze, when a beam of light flashes through the doorway. In time, an image slowly emerged through the blinding luminescence..

"Holy Shit", I breathe.

"Watch your mouth", papa quickly snaps.

"Can't we have a nice meal fuh...?", mama attempts to inject.

"Shut the fuck up... The Both of you... That's fucking A Rod", I realize.

"Who is A-"

"Shh. Here he comes..."

We do the sort of eating our food, but mostly looking up at the large, arrogant man that is walking towards and then passed us, largely and arrogantly.

Our busty waitress strolls over to check on us when we, barely able to contain ourselves, proclaim in hushed yet obvious tones, "That's fucking A Rod!" Busty doesn't really know what the hell we're talking about, but she decides to stroll over and break the ice with the lad anyway.

Five minutes later she strolls back over to our table with a serious look of disgust on her face, and then says, "Yeah that A Rod guy... He's a real jerk."

"Whuh... Why?" the inquisitive family inquires.

When we get this bomb dropped on us:

Busty: Aren't you A Rod?

Mr. Rod: Where's the party tonight?

The waitress continues her indignation (as if she doesn't get that shit all the time and from less wealthy assholes, to boot) while we greet her with 2 looks of shock, and one stream of giggles from some little dumbass who just happens to be on his way to college.

So I'd like to thank you, Mr. Rod. Not only for this blog post, and not only for the exclusive rights to this fantastic story, but also for providing me with an early window into your douchebaggery long before the national media provided the rest of the populace with it... After a near decade of cover up.