afternoon quickie (let me know if it’s good for you)

i get sick about once a year. not bad for a guy who really doesn’t take care of himself, huh? but about once a year my body thinks, “okay..enough of this wellness and letting this guy taste and smell and breathe…time to make a whole lotta phlegm and get funky!!!” this would be that time of year.

maybe it’s running myself into the ground. or the emotional stress of events of late. but the bottom line is, i feel like hot-buttered ass. (for those not acquainted with my special line of ghettofied sayings, that would not be a good thing….although a nice hot ass on a good hot woman could…and some butter to lube up with…oh well…never mind, i feel bad; that’s the point)

when i was on my “tour of duty” throughout south texas this weekend, we stopped for lunch in laredo (adobada translates as “devil dish” in my opinion); and it was sunny, and 87 degrees. when i left my house it was grey, kinda rainy, and about 50. i assumed it had warmed up and sunned up that way EVERYWHERE (ignoring the three and a half hours of road behind us traveled at 85…i mean 65 mph…damn, i wish i hadn’t given those guys from enterprise this url)..but the bottom line is, there it was pretty, and here, from what i was told, it wasn’t.

and it still isn’t. it’s what my “sister” kathi called a “mood matcher”, or “mood masher” (damn mobile phone connections…either seems to fit). since i got back, i don’t know a damn person who’s 100% cheerful, and i’m in the same boat. it’s grey. it’s rainy. and i just wanna go home and curl up in bed with a good book and a good drink (these are plan “b”, but plan “a” is not available for cuddling at this point and time; REALLY hope that changes in the future)…and i hear the same thing from everybody else….hope it all passes with the weather; but from what i’m told this seattle-esque stuff will be with us through the weekend. ah well, at least i know this weekend will be 100% adobada free…just got the recipe sent to me; and it doesn’t really help make the moment i peeled back that foil any more magical; in fact the whole “pork” thing still has me wondering; does that just mean (of and from) the pig…no specific part? be afraid…be VERY afraid…

the weekend at a glance…

okay, so this weekend was long (22 hours of billable work time, followed by a 10 1/2 hour day monday), full of driving (over 1,200 miles on the rental in 48 hours, plus another 145 on my car on monday), but it was also educational. some things i learned…
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well, at least we had nice weather….

03/18/2002: “”

just over 1,000 miles in just over 36 hours…and keep in mind that eight of those hours were eaten alive by much needed sleep (after THE longest hotel-room quest i’ve ever been on….it took almost two hours just to find an available room) and a rather nice breakfast (with the exception of the mexican national woman who hovered so closely over me and phillipe as we picked out food that on two separate, non-intentional occasions, we elbowed her just by moving…but it didn’t seem to phase her…scary). all in all, a LONG weekend…and a long work week ahead. i still have to close out all the sxsw wristband accounts and settle them up (they left ’em for me to do on monday…wasn’t that nice??) i have to help in our moving efforts (star tickets leaves downtown for west austin in the coming weeks), and i have to go see what damage that magical combination of uttm and drunken rednecks has done to my precious cabling at the expo center to ready it for ice bats playoffs, which begin this friday. so, if the postings seems a bit scarce the next few days (which would suck, ’cause as luck would have it, this weekend DID produce a story or two) don’t take it personal. to answer one particularly special readers question (well, one of her many…can’t beat that intellectual/inquisitive/beautiful combo punch) highway 281 out of SA will take you almost all the way to mexico if you let it. it dead ends in pharr, texas…which is FAR from SA..i should know. i was standing in both at separate times on saturday…

the plan and the problem

okay, so all week i’ve had to cover the jobs of one if not two other employees IN ADDITION to doing my gig…and all i kept thinking was, “at least the weekend is only hours away”. putting the personal issues about the weekend aside, it meant a break from work where i planned on cruising to the beach, and drinking to cushion the aforementioned personal issues. normally, i’m a big proponent of the whole, “face your shit sober…don’t uses booze as a crutch” philosophy; but do what i say, not what i do. i need to get loaded. THEN i find out i have to spend the weekend in laredo and the valley and corpus WORKING.now i had four issues:

1. i was craving chocolate milk.
2. needed to get drunk on THURSDAY, since i don’t have to go to work till about noon tomorrow.
3. i have a sxsw wristband i now need to find a home for (it’s free…mail if you’re interested and we’ll arrange something)
4. kimberly keeps sending me obscene IMs and she’s horny as hell and wanting me.

number one was solved with a phone call to my “sister” kathi. she recommended kahlua pre-mixed drinks because normal milk would curdle with real booze and get me sick. so, i bought a four pack of mudslides. i got about half-way down the road, decided to try one, opened it…and of course, drank it. then i remembered kathi’s “open container” speech (they DO taste like chocolate milk, btw..i recommend them), so i drank ALL FOUR in about ten minutes, and ditched the whole bag of empties at the next convenience store, about five miles down from the liquor store. no opens, no empties. now i’m a GOOD driver, right?

number two is a judgement call. their are several levels of drinks, depending on the way the day went and the upcoming days will go…i basically equate the amount you spend with the level of crap life dishes at you. beer or hard lemonade? about a 1.5-2.0. happy hour is about a 3.5. you get up to the 5.0-6.0 range with jim beam or bacardi rum drinks. hovering more in the 7.5-8.0 range when you head up to your crown nights; patron tequila rates in at around 9.2. tonight i’m hovering at 10.0 – bushmill’s sixteen year old irish whiskey. irish because i’m doing the saint patrick’s day thing early. and there’s something special about a bottle of whiskey that’s old enough to drive your car home from the liquor store for you. don’t try this, though…it can’t reach the pedals. learn from my mistake. damn free store samples (those little bottle sets ARE free samples, right? oops…)

three, i already explained; due to the whole valley trip from hell, i now can’t use it…

and four? nothing new; she’s always horny, always wants me (and several others…remember, she has a porn career to practice for), and nothing will happen for three simple reasons, one; she’s in VEGAS, two, she has a boyfriend (when he remembers he has a girlfriend), and three? that’s a long story…

so, to quote anthony michael hall from weird science, before his night of drunkeness, “see you guys in the emergency room”

the plan and the problem

okay, so all week i’ve had to cover the jobs of one if not two other employees IN ADDITION to doing my gig…and all i kept thinking was, “at least the weekend is only hours away”. putting the personal issues about the weekend aside, it meant a break from work where i planned on cruising to the beach, and drinking to cushion the aforementioned personal issues. normally, i’m a big proponent of the whole, “face your shit sober…don’t uses booze as a crutch” philosophy; but do what i say, not what i do. i need to get loaded. THEN i find out i have to spend the weekend in laredo and the valley and corpus WORKING.now i had four issues:

1. i was craving chocolate milk.
2. needed to get drunk on THURSDAY, since i don’t have to go to work till about noon tomorrow.
3. i have a sxsw wristband i now need to find a home for (it’s free…mail if you’re interested and we’ll arrange something)
4. kimberly keeps sending me obscene IMs and she’s horny as hell and wanting me.

number one was solved with a phone call to my “sister” kathi. she recommended kahlua pre-mixed drinks because normal milk would curdle with real booze and get me sick. so, i bought a four pack of mudslides. i got about half-way down the road, decided to try one, opened it…and of course, drank it. then i remembered kathi’s “open container” speech (they DO taste like chocolate milk, btw..i recommend them), so i drank ALL FOUR in about ten minutes, and ditched the whole bag of empties at the next convenience store, about five miles down from the liquor store. no opens, no empties. now i’m a GOOD driver, right?

number two is a judgement call. their are several levels of drinks, depending on the way the day went and the upcoming days will go…i basically equate the amount you spend with the level of crap life dishes at you. beer or hard lemonade? about a 1.5-2.0. happy hour is about a 3.5. you get up to the 5.0-6.0 range with jim beam or bacardi rum drinks. hovering more in the 7.5-8.0 range when you head up to your crown nights; patron tequila rates in at around 9.2. tonight i’m hovering at 10.0 – bushmill’s sixteen year old irish whiskey. irish because i’m doing the saint patrick’s day thing early. and there’s something special about a bottle of whiskey that’s old enough to drive your car home from the liquor store for you. don’t try this, though…it can’t reach the pedals. learn from my mistake. damn free store samples (those little bottle sets ARE free samples, right? oops…)

three, i already explained; due to the whole valley trip from hell, i now can’t use it…

and four? nothing new; she’s always horny, always wants me (and several others…remember, she has a porn career to practice for), and nothing will happen for three simple reasons, one; she’s in VEGAS, two, she has a boyfriend (when he remembers he has a girlfriend), and three? that’s a long story…

so, to quote anthony michael hall from weird science, before his night of drunkenness, “see you guys in the emergency room”

ya get what ya pay for…

so, i survived last night’s drunken brain cell slaughter; TRIED to write something for y’all while mid-intox, but i couldn’t type, couldn’t focus, and i think used up all the creative rambling i had on the two hour and some change phone call that kept me company through most of it (although putting up with me in that condition for that long qualifies this person for sainthood in some sects…at the very least lunch…PLUS, it was long distance, so i don’t know if THAT was getting what was paid for, but i digress)
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gotcha covered…

okay, so a couple of weeks ago i did a piece on here about how to fail job applications, and the mail started to roll in…but not with more suggestions. with complaints.
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i got smarts

okay, so when i was growing up, i was always told their were three kinds of intelligence…book smarts, street smarts, and common sense. i’ve typically gone two outta three for the most part (the latter two, in case you’re curious) sure, kramer can quote shakespeare, but i can quote the simpsons. and in reading his stuff (and coming up with mine), i think i’ve uncovered a fourth kind. a new dimension. pop-culture smarts.

it certainly ain’t book learning to put “DOH!” in the middle of your writings (although i have heard there’s a “DOH of the simpsons” book as a take off on taoism…i REALLY need that), and it doesn’t really fall into the realm of street smarts, and is pretty far from common sense. but it works, ya know?

like if i refer to the “acid washed era that was guns and roses hay day”, 99% of my readers KNOW what i mean. and no, despite the hair, piercings, and tattoos, i NEVER soiled my body with acid wash. don’t get me wrong, between pat magee’s surf shop, chess king, and oak tree, i had some serious jams-wearing, skinny leather tie, fucked up fashion moments (with my blonde bangs in tow), but NEVER did the acid washed thing. and every one of you got at least one (if not all) of those references.

it’s a lot like life, it’s played between the sheets…
yesterday i got so old, i fealt like i could die…
the reflex is a lonely child, just waiting by the park…
everytime i see you falling, i get down on my knees and pray….

how many of you went four for four? (depeche mode, the cure, duran duran, and new order, respectively) how many of you read those lines and now have at least one song stuck in your head that WASN’T there before?

didn’t get it out of a textbook.
won’t help you survive urban tampa, fl.
and it damn sure ain’t common sense.

it’s pop culture smarts. it’s the language of the common man. i now realize why i didn’t drink or smoke weed till later in life; it’s so my memories were clear enough to where my brain can regurgitate this shit so all of you can go, “oh hell; i remember that…how did he think to relate that bad late ’80s shit to today?” ’cause i’m a twisted little shit. with a mind like a steel trap. i’ve got street smarts; and book smarts (sorta); and common sense. but most of all, i’ve got a WEALTH of seemingly useless pop-culture knowledge that keeps all of you entertained. okay, so maybe that one’s second. MOST of all, i’ve got motherfucking charm. now y’all just have to keep my creative juices flowing…


(back then i had a “donate oral sex” button that was linked with that last line)

sunday, cruddy sunday

it’s a grey day here in austin, texas, and i’m at work. yee-haw. it’s raining. there’s a bit of a north wind. the feed store thermometer on kramer’s porch says it’s 51 degrees, and it’s 3:30 in the afternoon. ick. i’m even wearing grey…grey star tickets staff shirt, grey oakley shoes, grey stüssy hat, hell, even grey ecko boxers (do i sound like the label whore or what?) wearing BLUE jeans, since grey jeans remind me of that shopping for bugle boys at chess king in the pre-girbaud/z. cavaricci level of my wardrobe development (did i lose any of you with THAT reference?)

it’s the type of day where you wish you were somewhere else. with someone else by your side…know the feeling? where the only thing you’d keep in the equation is YOU, but you change the background, the supporting cast, add a leading lady of your choice (or guy, as the case may be…i’m actually sitting here alone, so that’s not really a substitution; just an addition…no auditions necessary, already have someone in mind…head shots available on request) but you get what i’m saying, right? this is the kind of grey, depressing day that breeds…well…..depression.

and where to people go to fix depression? self-help books. as george carlin points out, the whole term is bogus from the start. you’re not helping yourself. the AUTHOR is helping you. sure, you DID go to barnes & noble (wasn’t the caramel mocha there divine?), and you DID plunk down your $24.95; hell you even got your frequent buyer card stamped (just two more and you get 50% off a purchase!!!) so you took a step or two, but who are you REALLY having shoulder the burden? better question…how many of those stamps are for self-help books? actually feeling any better?

all self-help books are based on four guiding principles. four simple lines sum them ALL up. consider this the “self-help book guide for dummies”, which alone steps on a copyright or two, doesn’t it? enough of all that…

here’s the steps (you WON’T need to take notes, i promise):

1. Your Problem Is NOT Your Fault…blame your childhood; your boss; your addiction to NyQuil (which we can fix with yet ANOTHER self-help book), but the bottom line is DON’T blame yourself. that line of reasoning would encourage you to get therapy, which would mean your money would go to a local psychologist INSTEAD of me…that’s bad. so it’s NOT your fault. trust me on this.

2. Your Problem Is Easily Fixable…well, maybe not TOO easily. i might make it seem a little more difficult if i feel a “part two” coming on; that doubles my money. ask my friend kimberly in vegas…double money is a GOOD thing. she knows how to do some other good things, too, from some of the pics i’ve seen; but i wouldn’t know anything about that personally…she’ll be in porn eventually, then we’ll ALL know…moving right along…so together, you and i can fix you…but it may take a while, depending on my boat payments and if that paternity suite goes through.

3. Just Do What I Say And Everything Will Be Okay…this is where we lay out the game plan. be it baby steps, checking the phase of the moon (sorry for that one, kramer), or whatever. but the bottom line is, if you follow MY instructions, you’ll be fine. don’t taint it with advice from others. your friends. your family. your lovers. if they were worth a damn, you wouldn’t need me. fuck them. (remember, i’m writing this in character, people…same goes for the aforementioned paternity suite and boat reference; if i need a boat, i’ll just borrow kramer’s…but the kimberly stuff was true as far as i know)

4. That’ll be $24.95…or more, depending on how long i’ve been doing this, whether or not it’s a “book-on-tape” (been told i have the voice for that), etc. but this, in my eyes, this is THE most important part.

and there ya have it…an entire SECTION of pure, unadulterated horse shit (for the most part, at least…i mean working the numbers, i suppose one or two might be for real; but i’m still pretty skeptical) taking up valuable space in ANY bookstore, summed up in four lines. and i want my cut. i want a piece of the pie. i can picture wiping the crust bits from my goatee as i type this, and hearing my bank account rise as i do. i’m gonna write a book to help all those unfortunate addicts out there. the ones i damn well KNOW will be in that isle, seeking solace. a light at the end of the tunnel. a kind voice on an emotionally cold winter’s night. and here’s my working title.

“YOU can do it…a guide to beating your true addiction…SELF-HELP BOOKS”

think about it – a book that’ll teach you how to give up self-help books. bet it sells. well. ONLY in america could you do this. and if i need more money, i’ll write a second…

“okay, this time you REALLY can do it….a guide to giving up self-help books once and for all”

then, with a little money in my pocket, a few lectures under my belt, a condo on the coast, and a lexus convertible to pay for for that special someone in my life, i’ll write the next one…

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!? i TOLD you to stop buying these books”

by this time you could be spending your money on my lecture tapes. or kimberly’s porn. or something. or just sending me the damn cash. then my one last attempt to close that series of books…

“okay, FUCK IT!!! pay me!!!!”

and if all else fails, start a second series starting with the introductory volume,

“i was JUST kidding…you need me…and my bank account needs you”

hey…at least i’m honest, right?

late nite service

so, last night i drove up to dallas to see rob zombie. GREAT show, and i’ve got that post-show tunnel hearing working right now, which kinda sucks. add to that the fact that i drove to dallas and BACK the same night, just two days after i drove back and forth from tulsa in 48 hours, so i still hadn’t caught up from that as far as energy levels are concerned, and i’m feeling a bit tired. you know you’re old (or worn out) when it’s 7:30, you have a couple of invitations out there for plans tonight, you’re mere feet from your bed (which is unfortunately naked woman-less) and you’re still thinking, “hmmmm…tempting”.
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