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12/2/04 Stay Clean
Hey, I'm old What's up with Bill? Yesterday was my birthday, went out last night with friends, didn't get much sleep, and am absolutely hung over to beat hell. It was a great night. Not sure when I'll have time to do another one of these- this is issue #125, by the way, which I find somewhat staggering- probably not until late next week if I wait and do it at night as usual. And I'm looking for a non strenuous way to kill this afternoon, so I think I'll do it by writing this thing now and being done with it. People are just too damn nice to me, I swear. Impetuous got me "Pitt Of Horror", this really great Brit magazine about the totally hot Ingrid Pitt, thanks tons, dear, and it's just the right size for one handed reading, Kat bought me a couple nice hoodies, Danny gave me some DVDs and a disc with all these DF promo photos on it, Joe and Laura and Anita and Wes and Chris and Impetuous and Danny all bought me a shit load of beer last night, thanks to all of them for the best birthday I've had in a long time. Since '97 in fact, when Loretta and I rented a motel room and . . . well, had fun. The girls were in for Thanksgiving, which was wonderful, if far to brief, they got their Daddy this oversized X-Men book which is very cool, they're vastly overexposed now, but there was a time when the X-Men was one of the best comics ever, they also got me a bunch of TastyKake stuff, which I used to love as a kid, but I've never seen around here, the pies in their distinctive casket shaped boxes- good stuff. And good girls. Got a card form Jean, I love you too, dear, and a bunch of e-cards from readers of this thing, which shocked the hell out of me, but was a pleasant surprise. So thanks to you people too, whoever you are. Danny and I were talking some last night about the DF movie, I don't remember a lot of it, but I do remember him giving me some advice, he said, "Don't get into making movies just to get laid", you know, which is just crazy talk, I pretty much do every thing just to get laid. And what's this "just" shit, anyway, as far as I'm concerned getting laid is pretty much what life's all about. My life anyway. I forget her exact words, but Impetuous accused me and Danny of having a mutual ass kissing club. She was just kidding, but I don't know, maybe so. But I think he's a pretty cool guy, and he seems to think the same of me. Left my fucking car door wide open when I got home early this a.m., now the car won't start, so now Mr. Genius is going to have to get a jump so he can get down to Al's tonight. What else has been up with Bill? Well, I'm glad to get November behind me, it was a tumultuous month even in this tumultuous life, I look back and go, that was just a MONTH ago- seems like a lifetime. Helped Anita and Wes move to their very nice new place last Friday, wasn't too bad except for that back breaker of a hot tub, like Wes said, trying to move that damn thing was like trying to build the pyramids. But built they were, and moved was the hot tub. Not much funny stuff lately with my Dad, sorry, he hasn't been feeling well of late, and has been pretty subdued. He turned 77 on the 23rd, by the way. He was walking around the house Thanksgiving day singing one of his made up songs, the only part I caught went "I'm just gonna lay down on the floor and kick my feet". Lord. Al and I watched the Long Riders on DVD the other day, seen it before, it's pretty good, also "Deliverance" on cable, that was a fucking trip, during the infamous Ned Beatty rape scene Al mutters "I think things are getting out of hand". Gee Al, ya think? Later, when they're putting their dead friend back in the water Al's latent grave robbing tendencies came to the surface- "Hey! he's got a watch on, don't let that go . . . and a ring. Hey, wait!" He was really pissed they'd consigned their friend to the river without stripping him of his jewelry first. Then later, while watching South Park with him, boy, that's another
trip, Al goes, "They look almost real, don't they?" The girls and I had a movie night while they were in, it was very nice, we used to do that a lot when they lived here, and I miss that, and them, very much. Ate an insane amount of food, and watched the latest Harry Potter, and Danny's "Chillers", and "Van Helsing", which was okay to watch at the house for free, but I would've torn the fucking theater down if I'd actually paid to see it, got a couple hot women in it, but the plot was senseless in the extreme, and I absolutely hated a lot of the cartoonish effects. Oh no, no one else Has the right to make you sorry for yourself Stay clean What's Bill listening to? Nothing, my head is already pounding like a fucking drum. And my books and CDs still haven't come in after almost 6 weeks, I checked and my credit card was never charged for them, so I guess my order was lost before it got to 'em. Oh well. Nothing to read, either, I'm gonna have to stop in the library Saturday when I'm in town. What's Bill drinking? Green Gatorade. Had a belly full of Newcastle draft last night, though. First real drunk I've been on in a month. But I bet it won't be a month until the next one. How JFK became President of the United States: One day Joe (Daddy Joe, the patriarch) Kennedy summoned up the devil, and he said- J: I want one of my sons to be President of the United States Pretty creepy, but TRUE. I think I'll tell another creepy but true story, with a birthday theme since it's that time of the year, and we’ll close, this one may be briefer than usual, but I still have to get a shower, and then see if Jack can jump my car. We're going to go way back, children, before the dawn of 'istory, to December of 1973, and Bill's senior year of high school, and his 17th birthday. It was a Friday, and after class Rick (this is before I fucked his sister) Ramell bought me a 6 pack of, shudder, Stroh's for my birthday. We drove around and I drank it that afternoon- as mentioned previously, Joe and I didn't hang out much our senior year, which is why he isn't in this story- and I got home around supper time. Once I was home, my mom said Scott Bolin, who lived down at the end of our street, it's the first house there as you pull into Meadow View, had called, and I needed to call him back, it was important. I was a bit puzzled, Scott and I were friendly, but not particularly close, we seldom hung out together just the two of us. So I call him and he says I need to come down, he has something for me. Scott's dad was dead and his mom worked nights and evenings at CAMC, so his house was pretty much a party house on weekends, I figured some guys were down there with some more beer for me. Not quite. I get down there and Kathie- that's how she spelled it- Dodson and Louisa Nolte are down there, both more than half lit on some sickly sweet shit they were drinking, and I am instantly one happy guy. They were best friends, Kathie was blond and good looking, and Louisa was red haired and fucking gorgeous, and no, I'm not trying to draw any parallels here, that's how they looked. Joe, why don't you see if you can find our old senior year book and print that picture of Louisa in her majorette uniform, I used to have the original, which she signed with this very personal and lascivious note, but it disappeared and I'm pretty sure Loretta was responsible, Louisa was one of the very few girls I ever knew Loretta to be jealous of, pissed the shit out of her when I invited Louisa to our wedding, pissed her off even more when Louisa showed up. Louisa and I went out a few times that summer after Kathie and I broke up, but I went off to Marshall and we drifted apart, mores the pity. How I let that happen I don't know, but I figure it was a mistake. My Dad remembers her to this day, he always thought she was the best looking girl I ever went out with, one of the first things he said when he heard Loretta and I were getting divorced was, "What's Louisa doing now?", swear to God. I'm sure Joe remembers the extremely tempestuous love affair Kathie and I had from February 26 through July 10, 1974- I can't help it, dates stick in my head for some reason- I know Joe's older sister Kathy does, since she used to let me and Kathie D screw in her classroom every day at lunch, every day we weren't fighting and throwing shit at each other, anyway- but this was before then. She was dating Gary Adkins at the time, and I was going out with Sherry Norvell, although Kathie and I had already started some serious flirting in class. Kathie used to date Scott, which is how she talked him into letting us use his house. For what, you ask? You don't really have to ask, do you? Didn't think so. And that's really not the point of this story, but it is pertinent. And why me? As best I could figure, they just got drunk and got a wild hair and said let's fuck Bill for his birthday. Works for me. They'd gotten me a bottle of sloe gin, and a bottle of apricot brandy- Jesus, women, I can't stand the smell of either one of those potations to this day- with a condom taped to each bottle. We retired to Scott's room and a good time was had by all, I ended up drinking both bottles of that horrific shit, tempered only by the fact that I poured them all over Kathie and Louisa and then licked that vile and syrupy stuff off of them. Great times, God have mercy I had fun when I was young, and the shower afterward was pretty cool too. The next morning, however, I'm really feeling the effects of a six pack of beer, and two bottles of sugar sweet alcoholic poison- and I have to be at work at 8 am at my job as a chicken cooker at Golden Skillet. I tried to stay home, but my Dad wouldn't let me, so I take my green and queasy ass on up to work. My boss's name was Dick, and well named he was. He was this big fat assed prick, he had red hair as well, as did his bitchy daughter, who sometimes worked there, or rather stood around with her thumb up her big butt getting paid for it, lots of people with red hair in this story. I didn't care for him, nor him for me, but for the most part we tried to co-exist. He also would've been fired or sued for sexual harassment in these more enlightened times, he was always making these slimy ass comments about how big Marsena- she of the drive in and graduation stories- tits were, she just sort of shrugged them off, she should've kicked his dirty ass in the balls. Anyway, I looked like walking death when I showed up, at first he was sympathetic, which shocked the shit out of me, but when he found out I was hungover he got all prick-ish as usual, "I got no sympathy for ya, get to work, bark bark bark". I was truly struggling, nauseous as all hell, Jean, this real nice older lady who worked there, kept shoving rolls at me, "Eat these, they'll settle your stomach". I didn't want them, but I was too sick to fight. I've been there maybe an endless half hour when it's time for me to drop my first load of chicken (we sold it on biscuits for breakfast, yuck). We used these big round pressure cooker deals, you'd press a button and the lid rose up and you could drop the basket of chicken in. I'm standing there by the cooker, the lid comes up and the smell of that hot grease hits me full in the face, and that's all she fucking wrote. BBBBBLLLLLAAAARRRGGGGH. I hurl about a gallon of curdled stomach bile, with these little wads of half chewed roll mixed in, into the fucking pressure cooker. Oh my God. You have never smelled anything until you've smelled cooking puke. Deep fried, at that. Jesus Christ. It smells so bad I hurl some more- again, into the pressure cooker. The stink had instantly permeated the whole building, Dick comes running into the back- "WHAT THE HELL- " and he just stops there in the doorway, this stunned look on his face. "He's throwing up in the chicken cooker. He's THROWING UP in the CHICKEN COOKER. Bill, godammit, STOP THROWING UP IN THE CHICKEN COOKER!" I nod, and give him this weak little wave- and throw up some more in the chicken cooker. Dick just closed his eyes, turned, and walked out the door. He actually left the building, he was gone for over an hour, he never did say where he went. When he got back the place still just absolutely reeked, customers were coming in the door, taking one sniff, and running back out. Dick called the owners to see if we could shut down for the day. D: Bill threw up in the chicken cooker, and I'm telling you, the stench is incredible. Like you can't fucking believe, the stink. Yes, Bill. No, in the cooker, right in the damn thing. Yes, that's what I'm saying, he cooked his own puke. WHY? I don't fucking know why, he just did it. Tell him to go home? Well, IT'S TOO FUCKING LATE FOR THAT, ISN'T IT? Like I said, I had so much damn fun when I was young, it was fucking criminal. I think I'll write a much longer essay on all my fun times at Golden Skillet, "On Cooking Puke, And Other Golden Memories" cos there were some wild times that went on in that place, I can tell you, like the time I drunkenly shaved a slice off of my finger while cutting pork butt for barbecue, the finger slice dropped down in the barbecue, I bled all damn in the stuff, and they served it anyway, Bill meat and blood and all, or the time I was drunkenly- I used to go to work there drunk a lot, I'm damn lucky to still have all my fingers- cutting chicken on this big circular saw thing and I ran my hand, which was fortunately covered by this metal mesh protective glove, into the blade and it cut a link out of the glove and threw it across the room and hit Rick, who also worked there, right in the damn eye, he's screaming in pain and I'm on the floor laughing, what a friend we have in Billy, or the time I stuck a chicken liver up my nose and then went up to Jean and sneezed it real hard into my hand thinking it would be, you know, funny, and she fainted and cracked her head on the floor and we had to call an ambulance and she was real mad at me for a long time after that, but we eventually made up, or the time I screwed Joyce Asbury in the stock room on a dare from Rick, and I never told a soul- till now- but dumb ass Rick went around telling everyone, and she got mad over it, which I don't blame her for, but she got mad at ME, which I thought was a bit unfair, and got about half the guys from Poca, where she went to school, to show up after work one night looking to kick my ass, but I was able to talk 'em out of it, or the time- well that's enough, I think you get the picture. Should make an entertaining read.
Oh yeah, and by the way, the oceans are dead. There is no plankton, there are no fish. Soylent green is people. In the end, you're on your own Later Bill
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Don't agree, can't obey 
Time
for me to go, I got showering and car jumping to do.