so, 8:15 this morning the lockhart animal shelter unlocked it’s gate, and i was there. fifteen minutes later, copper (as in the color, NOT a police reference) was leading (note: not BEING led) the dog pound chick down the walkway to where i was standing. i put my leash on her, and she tried to pull ME like that….realizing that new dad was about 240 and therefore not moveable if he didn’t WANT to be, she calmed down. i took her to the car, where she rode in the passenger seat for a bit, and once she got sleepy, just curled her cute, big-headed self up on the floor mat.
[continue reading…]

i HATE role reversals…i really do. but today, i had to do it…be the OTHER person in a situation…picture this….it’s 9:55…and it’s ME pacing outside a box office window. me. what the fuck? i was doing my usual, letting the ghost of pessimist present bend my imagination over prison-style; i could hear it already:

hi…i’m here to pick up some tickets i have on will call….

(he takes my license, credit card, and business card…the star tickets logo draws an odd look from the guy behind the window at the ERWIN CENTER…the ONE concert venue in austin we DON’T ticket)

sir..we don’t have your tickets on the computer…through whom were these arranged?

i got them through clear channel…they said they’d be at will call…are you sure you don’t see…..

(wait….what were those words about to leave my mouth? next was i gonna ask him to CALL SOMEONE??? great…i’m one of THEM!!! those “do-you-know-who-i-am-and-who-i-know-and-could-crush-you-like-a-grape” assholes…)

right when the scene IN MY HEAD was about to get ugly, the clock rolls over to 10:00 and the box office opens…i step up to the window, throw down my tx dl, my visa, and PALM the business card in my hand so she DOESN’T see it…

hi…i’m supposed to have some tool tickets on will call…

yes sir…here you are…wow, you must know someone…you weren’t charged any service charge or anything, just the base price…anyway, two on the floor…just sign this receipt here….

SWEET!!!

the rest of the day was work-filled….i WAS gonna do a longer version of the above bit to make up for last night’s lameness as a mid-day thing but was afraid that i wouldn’t have anything to write about so i saved it. oh how wrong i was….the real fun kicked in slightly AFTER work once i headed off to san marcos…

i heard things….
nice things…
sounds i haven’t heard in FAR too long…
sounds that hearken back to an earlier time this year when life was more enjoyable, the weather was cooler, and i was in san marcos a good bit more…

the sound of my visa being swiped at the outlet mall…but that came after dinner.

i met josh for dinner at my favorite san marcos chinese buffet (great sesame chicken AND pepper steak…what more do you need?), august moon…two funny bits off of that..

1. they had the tv in the smoking section set to the discovery channel, who just in time for dinner was doing a show on roaches and rats….oddly enough, we got them to change the channel…to the SIMPSON’S!!!

2. when fortune cookie time came, josh got the EXACT SAME FORTUNE i’d written a bit about on this very site from the last time i went there…remember the annoying guy who felt he had to explain the “it’s better to have an egg today then a hen tomorrow (or vice versa)” fortune? he got the same thing…TOO damn funny.

then it was off to the outlet mall, because a cop said i had to…it was police orders. i hate to admit this to such a large group of people (yeah, right…MY readership….”large”) but i currently only own a CORDED drill….it’s not cordless. no recharge station near the wall. does that make me less of a man? i think so…and i feel it’s my duty to remedy that situation. when i borrowed the one from the office to fix the fence so my dogs wouldn’t get me in trouble with the city any more, i got spoiled…that was SO nice…no trailing an extension cord across the yard; no warm den when i’m done since i couldn’t shut the sliding glass door all the way BECAUSE of the cord…and i found the black & decker equivalent at wal-mart…it even had that fucked up wal-mart price ($49.86). but i hadn’t bought it yet…i was waiting to cash some reimbursement checks from work to do so, and i cashed them this morning. but between seeing the drill, and cashing the checks i went to lance’s. and he told me NOT to plop cash at wal-mart just yet…

“dude…what you NEED to do is hit the outlet mall and go to the black & decker store. they have better prices and better selection…then you can get EXACTLY what you want….”

for once, the phrases “better selection” and “outlet mall” didn’t stroke my “inner-chick” quite the right way (as they usually would) and my “shop-like-a-bitch” instinct wasn’t kicked on…

“but lance, i KNOW what i want, wal-mart has it, why don’t i just BUY the damn thing?”

“trust me…”

so, we went to the outlet mall…hit nike (it’s amazing what qualifies as “shoes” these days…some of them aren’t even fit for outlet sales…i don’t know if they ever did the retail thang. i’ve often wondered if there’s such a thing as “straight to outlet” fashion just like there’s “straight to video” movies…go to the aramani exchange store or look at half the shoes in the nike outlet and you’ll know what i mean…and NO, i’m not gay) then we went to black & decker…

did they have the same drill wal-mart has, but cheaper? no. did they have it for the same price? no. did they have it AT ALL?!?!? no. they had some sissified one that was about two notches BELOW it (for about eight dollars less than the one i wanted) and then one slightly above it (12.0 vs. 9.6 volts of power) for thirty bucks more, and then for TWICE as much, they had one that was 18.0 volts and had so much torque behind it that josh said i HAD to have it. this puppy had so much power behind it when you pulled the trigger it cocked your hand sideways on it’s own in you weren’t expecting it…

“dude…compare that (points at 12.0 one) to THIS (hands me 18.0 one)”

“yeah, but i don’t NEED that much….”

“man…you’ve GOT to have MORE POWER (great…he’s tim fucking allen)”

“no…you don’t…if that was the case, all dildos would come with pull ropes like lawn mowers…..”

(talk about a line that gets you noticed in a black & decker store)

so, we left there unsatisfied…and proving that “home improvement”‘s star hadn’t had TOO lasting an effect on us (but he IS the reason i got myself a lifetime membership in the professional lawn mower racing association…but never mind that now)

then it was off to the adidas store, where i FINALLY bought something….from the adidas GOLF collection…sleeveless, v-neck…ever since the arms have started to FINALLY look respectable to MY eyes, and the tattoos got recolored properly, i have been ALL about doing the sleeveless thing when i can…) this was pretty stylish, and just sweater-vestish enough for josh and his weezer-loving ass to feel like he influenced me. it was even a slight departure from my typical black or grey or blue selection..but was instead kinda a mossy olive green…”loden” green i believe it’s called.

and again, i am SO not gay…

then, we hit fubu, where i saw the biggest pair of “shorts” i’ve ever seen. don’t get me wrong, i’m ALL about the longer, low, thuggish shorts…practically all i wear. but these were almost too long for me to wear them as JEANS. and they were 54″ waist. they were the first $85 pair of shorts i’m pretty sure actually use $85 worth of materials. i held them up to the store and said in my best announcer voice…

“this was me before i discovered subway’s fresh food with only six grams of fat per sandwich”

josh lost it…so did the three black girls looking at the rack next to us. we left the mall….

the end.

y’all know i ONLY put the phrase “phone sex” in the title JUST to get you to read all the way to the end, right?

perverts…

i don’t know why, but i’ve never felt too compassionate towards homeless people. i know; there but for the grace of yadda yadda yadda…
[continue reading…]

“kill ’em all and let god sort ’em out”
“semper fi”
“take no prisoners”
“nobody gets out alive”
“fuck peace…fuck love…FUCK THEM!!!”

this was the “sentiment” of the backyard staff (a few of them, anyway; myself included) moments before the door whistle fired on the last of the three sold out widespread panic shows saturday night (all of those were direct quotes from a few of them). next night, same staff; same place; different attitude. now it was a jewel show. the crowd was much more mellow; and much, much, MUCH more clean, hygiene-wise (probably drug-wise, too…save for the one crusty hippy that was found sitting under a tree WAAAAAAYYYYY back in the back parking lot still tripping on something and sitting under a tree babbling to (and dribbling on) himself unaware that the panic circus had left town). to most of us, as i said, this was almost like a night off compared to the rest of the weekend.

it’s kinda odd…little foxy, folksy jewel (who’s pretty cute, has a down-right AMAZING bod (checked her out up close during sound check) and has some of the most captivatingly gorgeous women attend her shows i think i’ve ever seen…at least in groups that large…well, when i’m conscious…in my dreams that kinda happens a lot…but again, i digress…)

she is “all about the music”…letting the people hear her words….her work…her voice….her “gift”, as it were. all to the tune of $55.00 a head!!! and she makes them shut down all the bars within her sight of the stage when she goes on so nobody pays attention to ANYTHING but her. AND her stage backdrop…a warhol/monore-style montage of various color screens of JEWEL’S FACE that measures about thirty feet high and seventy-five feet wide.

she may not know who will save YOUR soul, but she damn well knows how to sell hers. and her ass. and her tits. and everything else in between. if you’ve got it, flaunt it…but don’t try that pretentious “it’s all about the art” shit. i heard enough of THAT pig crap over the last few days from the stench filled tent city that was the parking lot of the backyard for the last three days…and the “trustafarians” there in.

me & nate took a bit from will smith….in the movie “independence day” will has a tradition when the hard work is done. “the victory dance”, as he calls it….it comes “when the fat lady sings”. well, jewel is far from fat (reference above sound check comment) but it fit none the less. when she started her first song, we lit up two arturo fuente 858s from my private stash.

the two of us had stood side-by-side, FIVE days/nights in a row, dealt with over 22,000 concert goers in a week; and with the exception of about 100 jewel tickets, seen all shows sold the fuck out. a combined total of 18 guest lists, and over 1,000 will calls…it was time to celebrate. and soon there after, crash. it’s 1:35 am cdt, and my boss isn’t expecting me at my desk till noon. time to go fall on my face.

and beuford, i’m glad your momma listened to me and you’re back at home where you belong…

07/21/2002: “”

okay, so to all my loyal readers, my most humble apologies for not writing jack shit yesterday. i DID start to write something, entitled “d.d.h. in da house” with “d.d.h.” of course standing for damn, dirty hippies, which i never finished and quite frankly sounded a little TOO bitter. over the course of working three sold out widespread panic shows, i saw more scams and schemes then i’ve seen in the two years and some change that i’ve been working shows. tonight is the jewel show, which we’re all looking at , by comparison, as a night off.

i’m debating whether or not to go into work at noon tomorrow; while the sleep-in would be cool (although not as much fun as when you do so and you’re NOT alone, but never mind that now..the ONE activity that makes me a morning person) i don’t know if i’m willing to blow off three hours of OVERTIME, which is what all of tomorrow will be; but then i get to go to the gym for the first time in ten days (working five shows after work in a week can effect the workout routine just a bit…but they’re a workout all their own).

a highlight or two (or more):

what does EVERYTHING on this list have in common?

glass beads…hemp jewelry…t-shirts…shoes…tie-dyes…bootleg CDs…bootleg tapes…bootleg videos…’shrooms…weed…bongs…pipes…acid…silver jewelry…hugs…back rubs…neck rubs…foot rubs…soda…cold beer…paintings…$50…hacky sacks…fanny packs…$100…food…$150

answer? all of them were offered at LEAST once in exchange for ONE ticket to ONE of the shows.

which of the following would you NOT try to get into a backyard show if you’re a panic fan with no cash (or at least none you want to spend on a ticket)?

scaling a thirty foot wall?
crawling through a twenty yard ditch run-off pipe that’s blocked with hog wire at the end?
rushing the door security?
crawling through over an acre of densely-thorned woods behind the backstage?
jumping from a fourty foot tree branch?

answer? apparently NONE of the above should be avoided…because they tried them all.

question three: which of the following will a stoned hippy pay for, and then snap back into sobriety when the doorman tells him the reality of his purchase?

a ticket receipt (printed on ticket stock, i’ll grant you…but looks nothing like a ticket)
a ticket copied off at kinko’s
a ticket from the previous night’s show?

answer? ALL of the above…and then they’d come to ME to see if i’d make it right. some of them cried. i was moved. really. why do i have this feeling you all think i’m being sarcastic?

on a more personal note, what did i joke about doing, have every intention of doing, but NOT do due to trying to at least remain SEMI-professional?

walk around wearing soap on a rope ’cause i figured it would be like wearing a cross through a vampire colony?
put speed stick deodorant on each ticket booth counter with little “try me” orange stickers like you see on sample platters at the heb bakery?
bring brass knuckles and severely fuck up the first person who tried to scam me on saturday as a lesson to anyone else who had such an idea?

again, ALL of the above…but i was less serious about the last one. that was said in the heat of the moment.

a few numbers for ya before i go hop in the shower and get ready for the jewel show:

price i had to pay for my cool, dead cow head, backyard commemorative widespread shirt: $0
amount of gleaming examples of why white people SHOULDN’T dance witnessed over three shows: 15,204
number of fake tickets bought by SCALPERS, who should have known better: 32
number of fake tickets popped at the door and NOT allowed in PER NIGHT: 43 (average…and by the drop, NONE made it through…damn those door guys are bad-ass)
and finally, number of stories i can think of off the top of my head that i HAVEN’T written but won’t bother with due to time constraints right now: four
oh yeah, and chance, in percent-form, that i’ll want to do it all again next time panic hits town? 100%

Replies: 1 Comment

damn…a weekend wrap-up that doesn’t involve a mention of my name. that breaks a 4 or 5 weekend streak i believe. that means we have to go drink this weekend and REALLY try to fuck something up.

josh said @ 07/22/2002 04:20 AM GMT

okay, first off, in the title, i am SO not criticizing people who smoke pot. but working my first of THREE widespread panic shows was worse than i ever could have imagined when it came to the box office. scary, scary stuff. and walking through the crowd was even worse. that “au natural” smell (now with PATCHOULI!!!) is bad enough when there’s one or two of them together.
[continue reading…]

07/18/2002: “”

life is a series of cycles; and yesterday, unfortunately, one cycle ended for a buddy of mine…the “working shows for star” cycle. it seems that at the sheryl crow show (which i skipped due to the weather and what i THOUGHT would be a somewhat hectic week that has turned into an incredibly hectic week) something, somehow, someway pushed him into a profanity-laden tangent within ear shot of the promoter and he was “no longer welcome” to work their shows…..so guess who has to fill in on THREE all-day shows that fill the hole between the show i was scheduled to work LAST night and the jewel show on sunday?

that’s right…MY dopey ass.

the three shows in question are not-so-little hippy shows for widespread panic. two of the three are already sold out. like WAY sold out. like no prayer of a release kinda sold out. but what i’ve learned is, that is a term the general public doesn’t seem to grasp, which baffles me.

last night i worked our lady peace, which MUCH to my surprise sold the fuck out. pretty early in the night, too. so, i made two signs…one to hang in each box office window, and then me and nate stayed (i get to work with him at all three widespreads AND jewel…talk about bonding, huh?) to do guest list and pre-paid will call (like when you order over the phone or internet). the sign in HIS window said…

OUR LADY PEACE HAS SOLD OUT!!!
(not meant in that “they’ve gotten too commercial sort of way…)

keep in mind, it WAS me who hand wrote the signs…they were half-sheet size, and i put them at eye level to the customers. the one on my window was a bit longer; it said…

OUR LADY PEACE IS
SOLD OUT!!!
THAT’S RIGHT, KIDS
SOLD OUT!!!
YES, WE ARE SERIOUS

and we STILL had customers coming up and asking for tickets. or seeing if we would release unclaimed (but already paid for) will call. or just sell ’em one “so my kids can go in and see the show…”. the last guy even added (in front of his teenage kids, no less) “if you won’t float me two to get them in, what does that teach them about this world?”

do you guys remember the “don’t be melodramatic rule” from yesterday? i fired back at him (in front of his kids), “it teaches them the value of planning ahead and not waiting till the last minute so they don’t have to embarrass themselves begging for something that ISN’T gonna happen…”

(understand the two quotes from this yutz i put on here are just bits of a five minute diatribe of his i had to sit through, all done in the name of making ME look like the asshole because i have this inability to “hook up” a perfect stranger who happens to NOT be female and cute, two exceptions to the “stranger hook up” scenario…so, FUCK him)

and at a hippy show, it’s a whole different world. these are kids that have been taught that money (which most of their parents make sure they have PLENTY of, despite their appearance) is not the only commodity in this world. they also feel they can trade affection (note: NOT sex), hand-made crafts, food, weed (okay that last one MIGHT just work if it’s good, not shake, not filled with stems and seeds…aw, you know the rules) in order to get into a sold out show; or in the case of tonight’s gig, buy a ticket.

the next three days have nothing but patchouli-drenched ugliness written ALL over them…and keep in mind i get to sit out and sweat at these first two AFTER putting in a full day at the office…and then there’s saturday’s finale, and then jewel (which is also damn near sold out). saturday and sunday night (particularly sunday) i plan on getting so drunk i can barely see…so count the typos on the next few entries here on the ‘whore kids…and if you don’t see entries daily, kick in to get me bailed out, k?

Replies: 2 Comments

good to know your buds got your back like that, ya know?

sean (i kinda write all this….except the comments ofher people do, of course…) said @ 07/19/2002 05:07 AM GMT

you don’t get it, do you? one bottle of patchouli will last like, a couple of years. a bar of soap? maybe a couple of weeks.

anyway, I’ve got bail money and time on Sunday night, if you need it.

astrofishy said @ 07/18/2002 07:02 PM GMT

THIS title needs explaining REAL quick, doesn’t it? (for those who feel it doesn’t, use the email link to drop me a line, k?). the story behind THIS one can be summed up VERY easily…don’t try and get melodramatic with me. it’s not fun. it’s not cool. and if you’re doing it for “show” purposes, you will lose. badly. don’t even TRY it. word to the wise.

learn from world gym’s mistakes. (now gold’s gym, but never mind that now…)

see, world gym (like gold’s gym, and pretty much EVERY corporate anything) has their own rules about pretty much everything; including a dress code. now, while i agree that people shouldn’t be in there in a clown outfit, or a business suit, or whatever, i feel shorts and a t-shirt should be acceptable. and i don’t know too many people who would disagree with me on that.

since my world (work-wise…and now that i think about it, every-wise) is a bit more rock and roll than corporate, and i typically have to run around in the hot texas sun (when we can see the sun and aren’t stuck in our new found “rainy season”) i tend to wear jean shorts to work. swap a t-shirt, wife-beater, what have you into the mix and you’re ready for the gym, right? especially at the downtown location where they began renovations on the men’s locker room on FEBRUARY 5th and had signs up that it would be completed within a month or so. apparently “…or so” is what makes it go the same pace as my home improvements, except i never put up a time limit sign and mine doesn’t inconvenience a shit-load of people or ruin a major gay social area…despite the rumors of what goes on at my annual birthday bar-b-Q’s (i am SO kidding).

the point being, changing there is now a major pain in the ass (pardon the pun) and so typically what you wear in is what you work out in…in my case, denim shorts and a sleeveless shirt. all good in my eyes. not so much in the eyes of one of world gym’s “assistant managers”.

i walked in the door and do the same bit everyone else does….start spouting your membership number as you round the corner, and you’re done with them before you hit the little stairway that takes you up into the first weight room. you never break stride. except this new, gung-ho, former high school jock-looking son of a bitch stops me…

“sir….what are those?”, he says, pointing at my shorts. i think he MUST be kidding, so oddly enough, i get a bit sarcastic in my response…

“they’re shorts, um…*i look at his name tag*…jason. you know; pants with little legs?”

“no sir,” he replies, with almost military-like precision, “they’re jeans…and jeans are not proper work-out attire. i can’t let you in…”

“first off, if they were jeans, you wouldn’t be able to see my calves. but you CAN, because they’re SHORTS. it’s not like they’re capri pants or something (YES, i’m straight..but i still know what capri pants are. sue me). and second, what the hell do you MEAN you can’t ‘let me in’? i PAY for this membership monthly. i’m in shorts. i wanna workout. what’s the FUCKING problem?”

“the problem is, SIR (said in the most sarcastic tone) that blue jeans, regardless of LENGTH (he still wouldn’t call them shorts) are not proper workout attire. now if you would like to BUY some more appropriate attire, we DO have some for sale…”, he says, gesturing at the “world gym apparel” rack in the lobby.

“okay, i’m gonna pretend you didn’t EVEN try to pimp out y’all’s clothing on me, ’cause that will get this even uglier than it already is. but i’m in shorts. they’re nice, they’re clean. they have no rivets or snaps or anything so it’s not like they can damage the equipment…they’re SHORTS. just like EVERYBODY else is wearing, they just happen to be made of denim. you guys CHARGE me to workout, so i’m GOING to work out. have a good one.”

and i start up the steps into the weight room.

the motherfucker stepped IN FRONT OF ME.

“SIR…(i’ll be damned…the tone CAN get more sarcastic) RULES are RULES. without them society as we know it would crumble and anarchy would ensue…”

i was blown away that he would take it that far. make that big a show of it. and more impressively, use the word “ensue” in a sentence properly. but i wasn’t so impressed i was gonna turn around. oh HELL no. he was breaking my melodramatic rule. and he was just doing it for show, since it was about 5:15 in the evening, and a line of just-off-work (gay) exec types was forming behind me. the next thing that came out of my mouth endeared me to the regulars of this gym for all eternity.

“so, what you’re saying is, that if you allow me to wear DENIM (the cloth of satan) into your hallowed halls, and disobey this “rule”, that it is the end of the world as we know it?”

(and i feel fine….shut up….you were thinking it….and now i’ve got yet ANOTHER song stuck in your head)

“EXACTLY!!!”, he replied, happy i finally “got it”.

“which would then mean my ASS is the center of the universe?!?!?”

THAT he wasn’t expecting. that blew him out of the water. and got a round of applause from the homo-minions behind me (understand this isn’t meant in some sort of demeaning way; but the membership at the gym is predominantly gay men).

at this point, he stepped out of my motherfucking way and i walked in to work out. oddly enough, i never saw this guy there (or at any other gym in austin) again. i think i may have scarred him for life.

good.

Replies: 1 Comment

You GO girl!

more red than dead said @ 07/17/2002 05:45 PM GMT

one of the most noble things we as human beings can do is save another person’s life. when one does such a thing, occasionally there is a reward involved. sometimes it’s a small gesture, like a card or a handshake. sometimes a bit more grand, like a cash reward or some sort of public display in the media.

but occasionally, it’s something really cool….like naked, squirming, tanned, blonde, barbie-doll-looking women moaning and squealing on into the night as you and kimberly, the porn star in training, share an evening together that also had me wondering how i feel about my toes getting licked. but perhaps i should back this up a bit and explain…

saturday evening, on my way in to work the lyle lovett show, i was talking to josh and planning the night’s drinking excursion when the other line rang and it was kimberly. i hadn’t heard from her in a couple of days, but one of the last times we HAD spoken, it was about she and i going to the sheryl crow show together on tuesday. figuring that was what the call was about, i got off the phone with josh only to hear a voice that KINDA sounded like kimberly say, “i don’t know who you’re on the other line with, but hang up on them ’cause this is more important….this is a matter of life and death…”

she went on to explain that for some inexplicable reason she had been feeling weaker and weaker over the last few days and for the last couple of days hadn’t even made it out of bed. when i asked her what brought it on, she said she didn’t know what had done it and she didn’t know what to do about it. since i was committed to working the show that night, my hands were pretty much tied. i suggested she drink plenty of fluids, make herself get up and move about a bit, and i’d call her on sunday and check on her.

when i called her sunday she sounded 100% better and explained that it was due to two factors:

1. my advice on hydrating and moving around

and…

2. her fear of what i would say in HER astrowhore tribute….

so basically, i saved her life. which we decided was something worth celebrating, so i drove to san antonio to see her. we went out to dinner at outback, and she just said she had been feeling bummed lately, and wanted me to help cheer her up. no problem, i thought…i had a logical plan.

if you have a friend who’s a guitar god in training, you take them to alamo music. likewise, if they’re a porn star in training, you take them to the adult megaplexxx. so tonight i got to go shopping for porn with an expert shopping buddy. someone with a working knowledge in the field. a few “items” browsed and pondered, one dvd was purchased, COUNTLESS others made fun of, and back to the grotto de porn star we did go.

the rest of the night was a bit odd…barbie-doll looking naked women splashed in the surf with each other, or guys, or what have you; and through it all we had the xxx-rated version of “mystery science theater 3000” going with me, kimberly, and beufford the basset hound in training critiquing, comparing our skills to theirs, what we would (or wouldn’t) do the various women on the screen if WE got a hold of them, etc, etc, etc…

the dog, by the way, was the one who started licking my toes, for those of you who have forgotten how “special” kimberly thinks i am (i.e. she doesn’t wanna fuck me)…it’s just the fact he decided to do it after he watched twenty straight minutes of lesbian sex that i thought was a bit odd…what can we say? sometimes he’s a b-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-d dog….

Replies: 1 Comment

You really did know exactly what to do to cheer me up. The Adult Video Megaplexx was like taking a kid to a candy store…a fat chick to a buffet…Chet to a petting zoo full of blind, crippled sheep. Speaking of that, can ANYBODY explain why when most guys have Penthouse and Hustler stashed in their mattresses my boyfriend has a copy of Mother Goose’s nursery rhymes with particularly stiff and crusty pages when you get to Mary Had a Little Lamb and Baa Baa Black Sheep? And why is it that phone sex with us always starts out in a nice green pasture where he coats me with honey and rolls me in cotton balls? How come he grabs my ears and says “who’s your daaaaddy?” every time I tell him I want it rough? And WHY is it that when he says “i love you” he spells it e-w-e instead of y-o-u like everyone else?

Sandee Krotch (aka Porn Star) said @ 07/15/2002 08:09 AM GMT

saturday i got up early to repair the fence and try and prevent further neighbor “issues” between the couple that lives next to me and the couple of dogs that live WITH me…afterwards, i got changed into old clothes (okay, so just the nasty ones that i’d worn to work the friday lyle lovett show, but same difference at that point) and went out to mow the grass…but it was raining.

since i needed to make a san marcos wal-mart run to get some contacts and the $5.00 house mess solution (i’ll explain that last one in a sec) i said, “fuck it…maybe the rain will stop by the time i get back” and got in the car. well, i backed out half the length of my driveway and saw how little it was raining, judging off what was on my windshield, so i pulled right back in the carport, got out, and fired up the mower.

best mow of my life…if there is such a thing.

no dust. no sneezing. no grass stuck to my socks and shins…plus, it was cool the whole time. it started coming down harder and harder as the morning progressed, but i kept on mowing. understand my house sits on a little more that a third an acre, so my front yard is pretty big…but it got done. mowed, mulched, and thanks to the rain, watered. i’m just enough of a kid to enjoy playing in the rain, and just enough of an adult to enjoy gasoline fueled power tools, so this was a good combination for me. and as i rolled out to austin later (after one SERIOUSLY major shower) i could pass by my neighbors houses on the way down the street, scoff, and say out loud to myself, “they need to cut that shit”.

apparently mowing in the rain is not looked at as “sane”…but then again, neither am i. from now on, i plan on ONLY mowing in the rain.

then it was off to austin, with a quick detour by whole foods (for pills) and wal-mart for the aforementioned house cleaning aids…2mm thick contractor’s trash bags. they can hold ANYTHING and they’re HUGE. (yet don’t come with twist-ties or flaps..which was a bummer) i started going through the rooms in my house that are piled with stuff, disorganized, and generally needing attention before they get painted, re-floored, etc. i made four piles…

1. can’t do without it
2. CAN do without it
3. what the fuck is it?
4. might need it later

i then fill the huge-ass, thick-ass bags with piles two AND three AND four and put them out at the curb. problem solved. we’re on our way. i’m thinking i might take a week off at the beginning of august and just finish my house up…ya know, do more in five days than i’ve done in five months. i am SO sick of living in a half finished project, ya know?

so anyway, then it was off to work the second lyle lovett show (a man admired by women all over the state for keeping his hair THAT high in texas humidity). same set as before (and i believe every tour for the last three years) but a MUCH nicer night, climate-wise, and afterwards the saturday purple ritas at baby a’s with josh…ahh, some traditions just need not be broken.

sunday was reserved for seeing officer lance’s new house, and now ONE YEAR OLD daughter (who i’d never seen…pretty sad considering we all live in lockhart, huh?) plus of course kagan the wild child (who remembers me as “the guy with the big snake”..why can’t more women remember me that way?) and his calum-hated wife heather (plus, i put this page on their IE favorite’s list…and don’t worry, heather is WELL aware of the calum-dislike…i’ll tell you the story later it y’all really wanna hear it)

this weekend ALSO marked the end of my buddy shane’s car getting more action than me…yep, you no longer have to blow the pontiac sunfire to get it to fire up for you (sorry, ladies). and you should hear how shane planned to celebrate this little “milestone” in his year…..

“dude, i’m gonna go to the store and by a case of cold beer…like good shit. shiner or something. then i’m gonna pull my car up in the backyard, sit on the hood, and drink a beer. after i FINISH the beer, i’m gonna get in my car, and START IT. rev the engine a bit. then turn it off, plop back down on the hood, and drink ANOTHER beer. then get back in, and start it AGAIN. and keep going till all the beer is gone, starting it up between every round. i’m never gonna leave the house or anything, just enjoy the fact that i’m drunk off my ass, and able to start up my own car…”

party on, shane…

Replies: 1 Comment

well my plan for the car worked out
, but i wound up going with mickeys.

shane

not shiner said @ 07/16/2002 05:03 PM GMT