Code Name: Tammi With an "I"
File Name: Tammi Betty-Flo Jessie Margarin Lambykins Pohler
Primary Team Rossman Specialty: Folding her legs behind her head.
Goal in Life: Something about a racoon farm...
|One of Tammi With an "I"'s first real jobs (other than selling her underwear to downtown junkies) was working at the local Hooters. She was pretty good at what she did (showing some T&A and making fun of her customers' tiny boners and all), but it just wasn't what she was looking for in a career. As she describes it, that would be namely, "Bein' able ta get drunk, smoke a carton of Slims, and lets about 20 nekkid men pleasure me in ways currently unknown to the female body." She's been searching the want-ads in vain ever since Hooters kicked her out on her keister for her free lapdances. Fucking commies!
Her job after Hooters was at a farm doing odd jobs and hand-jobs. See, she was originally supposed to help artificially inseminate the cows because Willy the bull was a might shy 'round the ladies. Unfortunately, once Tammi With an "I" first laid eyes on Willy's johnson she got a
better different idea of what needed to be done. It turns out that all those months riding the mechanical bull upside down at the Sea Wench Pub finally paid off for Tammi. Of course the cops didn't see it that way, but all charges were dropped when it became clear that Tammi had brought Willy out of his shell, and his "lady-fear" was gone forever.
The reason it's taken so long to get Tammi's page up is because she was on a countrywide road trip for the past 3 years visiting all the Naval and Coast Guard ports of call, and giving all the seamen she could the clap. Not to say that Tammi With an "I" is loose or anything, but whenever she spreads her legs a "now serving" sign pops up and someone starts calling for "Number 427... Number 427... Now serving number 427".
Nah, I really shouldn't talk smak about Tammi With an "I". I've known her ever since I was 11 years old and I lost my virginity to her mom. Tammi's mom passed away a few years later after Billy Bob Lumpkin "The Pumpkin" accidently hit the "on" button to the hay baler they was doin' the nasty on. Ever since then, Tammi has made it her life's mission to shtoop every guy on the planet that her dear departed mom never got to (which is actually a lot less than you might think). You gotta have goals in life ya know.
But every rednecky thing she does is for a good reason or purpose. Like that time she got my sister's dog addicted to nicotine... My sister bitches that she did it just to hear the dog cough and hack and watch it barf up its lungs, but Tammi With an "I" assures me that it was merely the only way to cure the dog's horrible condition of entitilitus. It wasn't until a few months later that I found out that what Tammi thought was "enitilitus" was really just a neutering.
Every now and then Tammi With an "I" gets the urge to visit her dozen boyfriends at the local army base. Unfortunately The Fuzz took her wheels away from her after that completely bogus "DUI / roadkill / fireworks" charge they filed against her last July. So now in order to see her boys in camouflage she needs to ask her neighbors if she can borrow their car. The answer is usually "HELL NO!", but Tammi doesn't let that stop her. I mean hell, I've seen cats in heat jump clear over 7 foot fences when the mood catches them right.
One time I had the bad luck of walking in on Tammi and my roommate, and my roommate's brother, and the Wolfman, and the Wolfman's cousin, and his cousin's girlfriend, and her sister and her boyfriend, and the boyfriend's dog, and Tammi's grandmother all naked and tangled up in the most Guinness Book of Records-breaking orgie I've ever seen. Not only were they all in the same room, but thanks to various strap-ons and contraptions hanging from the ceiling, they were aaaaaaaall connected. When I have nightmares, that human flesh pile is what I see.
With an "I" is the epitome of "Southern Belle". If the term "Southern Belle" can be taken to mean "classy white trash". But I really can't make fun of her all that much (mostly cause she goes for the nards). I mean, at least the woman knows what she wants in life: a cold beer every 30 minutes, a constantly burning cig on her lips, a shaggy, cheesy bearded, mullet-man between her thighs, and a 4X4 whose horn blares that tune that the General Lee does in the Dukes of Hazzard. A girl's gotta dream.
I remember that one time Tammi With an "I" met that shirtless dude down at the Sea Wench Pub. He was all burly and hairy and dirty and drunk, and he seemed like the perfect match for our lovely Tam. Well, it didn't take much coaxing to get our shy little hicklette friend to walk up to the slob (I think the MegaPlayboy barely got out, "Hey, Tammi, there's a guy over th-," before she shoved him to the ground and stepped on his in-the-way chest as she sexily sauntered over to Cletus). The only words out of her mouth before they started tonguing were, "Mmmm, ah like your hair... Do ya have a truck?" It was kind of disgusting to watch the two of them go at it, but luckily for us they quickly made their way to the restroom in the back to finish they's business. Unluckily for Tammi With an "I" though, Cletus lied about the truck and his mullet was nothing but extensions.
While it's true that Tammi WIth an "I" is already naturally gifted when it comes to upper body titty proportions, she still likes to "biggify" her moneymakers with two roles of two-ply each. Don't laugh... They've already paid for a Winnebago and a half a dozen huntin' hounds.
But, for as loose in the kaboose as Tammi is, she still has a "look, but don't touch" poli--.... BWA HA ha ha ha ha! Oh man, I almost got that whole line typed too. Ahhhhhhh, that's funny.
Tammi has a lot of mad
skills that help her get by in life. She's a talented mechanic
(she's always talking about all the "army boy hummers" she's fixin' to work on that night), she can tap dance while smoking and doing shots, she's a beautician in training (you should see her cat's hairdo... I never knew felines could have sideburns), and she always has the best advice to give to those in need... and even those not in need.
I remember this one time I was considering proposing to my darling Julie after that ultimatum she gave me the week before (something about her either getting a ring or a gun), Tammi With an "I" just shook her head and gave out the loudest "HeeeeeHAW!" I'd ever done heard. She laughed a bit then told me confidentially that "When a gurl asks ya fer a ring, Rossman, she don' want no diamond or nuthin'... All's she's really askin' fer is some anal action."
Well, Tammi's advice may not have kept Julie by my side for the rest of my life, but at least it saved me a good 3 to 4 grand that I would never have seen again.
Here we can see Tammi practicing her patented kiss of authoritai. She's mastered the subtle art of delicately blowing tiny pieces of paper at beauty contest judges while pretending to simply send them a kiss. The pieces of paper contain her room number and the best time to come a callin'. Seriously, how do you think she won the Miss Open Season Deer Hunt Pageant? By her moving tap dance routine set to the that banjo song in Deliverance?
That also reminds me of the time that Tammi With an "I" entered the Miss Vidalia Onion contest. Most of the other girls just sang or played the piano for their talent portions, but Tammi stuck a giant Vidalia up her cooch, gyrated her hips for a few minutes, and then produced a fully cooked Outback Steakhouse Bloomin' Onion appetizer for the judges. That one bitch from Macon got her disqualified for supposedly bribing the judges, but I for one was very impressed.
With an "I" is usually the most laid back person that I know. But when she gets rubbed the wrong way (either figuratively or literally) you'd better get the hell outta Dodge! It don't matter none if you're the one who pissed her off or not, or if you're a man or a woman, an old fart or a child... She'll kick in your nose with her steel-toed boots all the same.
There was this one time that Corduroy Johnson gave her a bottle of Jack Daniels for her birthday, but after Tammi took a swig of it she turned into a violent hick rage and smashed the gift over his head before pumping her shotgun and shooting the shit out of the town square. It turns out that ol' Corduroy got a bit thirsty the previous night and sampled some of his gift for his then girlfriend, Tammi. A-fore he knew it it was the next day and the bottle was half empty. He didn't have the cash, brains, or time to buy another JD, so he just filled the half empty container up with pool water and soldered the cap back on. He learnt Tammi's number one rule for romancin' her the hard way: Never fuck with her liquor.
Now poor Corduroy Johnson is having trouble finding another lady to suit... Guess it is kind of hard to hit the dating scene with any gusto when your jimmy has been permanently kicked inside your stomach.
Tammi With an "I" Quote: "Who's mah daddy? Ah dunno, but Ah'm about a third of the way through the 'M's and so far nobody tastes familiar."