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4/16/04 Breakin' Rocks In The Hot Tub
Hey Mangled lyrics courtesy of Sarah's friend Miranda, sweet kid, but she'll never be accused of having an intellect. She was over at the house- the old house, the one in Nitro when it still WAS our house- back in January 2001 (I could give you the exact date, but that would be showing off) and talking about her dietary habits after I made the mistake of offering her some broccoli-cauliflower salad, and she told me "I live on baloney" which prompted Rachel to say "You live WHERE?" Funny times. (I FOUGHT THE LAW, AND THE LAW RUN). I've made the law run many a time, myself. Unfortunately, it was always at me. What's up with Bill? Struggling, we're in hangover city today, got spanking tore down last night- last night being Wednesday night- had a six pack of Beck's dark (more on that later), then got into the bottle of Oaxaca (love that word) Mezcal my parents brought me back from Mexico (more on THAT later as well) and that was all she fucking wrote. For those of you who fear this turned into one of those ugly, tear the house down drunks cos of my recent mental turmoil over things I have absolutely no control over, never fear, although those can be quite cathartic, if a bit hard on Jack and Mary's property. This was a nice buzz, I sat around thinking mind expanding thoughts- that Mezcal is SMOOTH, absolutely great stuff, I wish they'd brought me back a fucking case of it, let me reiterate, GREAT buzz, drank most of it, straight from the bottle cos I didn't feel like bothering with a shot glass, and they're kind of restrictive anyway, sometimes I want to drink more than a shot at a time, or less, or whatever. I never had much truck with that salt and lemon folderol either, it's okay, but certainly not essential, more trouble than it's worth, really, and if you have to do all that shit to make tequila palatable to you, why don't you just drink something else? There's still a little of this Mezcal left for any of you that'd like to try it- but you'd better hurry, cos it's calling to me- "Guillermo, come dreenk me, queek!" Queek, indeed. What's Bill drinking now? While a little hair of the dog is tempting, just ice water. Boy, is it good, too. Listening to? The Guided By Voices CD mentioned last issue, its one of those CDs that gets better each time you listen to it, good stuff, and speaking of misheard lyrics, I thought this one line was "I've got bolt-on skin" which I thought sounded cool and cyborgy, turns out it's actually "bulldog skin" which isn't nearly as cool, but it's Bob's song, I guess he can sing whatever he wants to. Anyway, I bought the beer last night cos I wanted to get drunk and do my taxes, a tradition I started last year, and one I think I'll continue, cos I enjoy it so. Why do I have so much fun doing my taxes? COS I DON'T FUCKING PAY ANY! I didn't pay any last year, and I'm not paying any this year, and in fact, I'm getting back more than I should have paid, more free fucking money, I think it's a goddamn riot, your hard earned tax dollars at work, friends, going to Bill so he can continue to sit on his ass and drink beer and stay up half the night and pound out these damn things whenever the urge to talk about his damn self strikes him. I fucking love it. Don't hate me cos I'm beautiful, though I am, hate me cos I'm a fucking stone lazy smart ass and I just DON'T CARE. Bobby (Blaze) called me a little while ago to check on me, he called last night- I vaguely remember it now, but wouldn't have if he hadn't reminded me- and he was kind of worried about me, didn't realized I was all tequila'd up, and said, "You were talking out of your damn head, even for you." I can appreciate your concern, Mr. Blaze. Bobby is a good, good man, and I like him a lot. He's not gonna be able to do a 10th Anniversary CPW show unfortunately, total bummer, I was way looking forward to it, doesn't think he's gonna bother with trying to run the outdoor shows at Pritchard this summer either. However, on the good, in fact, the very good, side, he's giving me his ring. Yeah, no shit, giving it to me. Look the fuck out. Can't get down there this weekend or next, so Saturday May 1st, don't make any plans, Joe, I'll get Vince's truck, and if we take yours down as well, I think we can get the ring in both of them. We'll hang with Bobby for a bit, drink a couple beers, then come back here and set the ring up out in the yard here- I need to run it past Jack and Mary, but I can't imagine them caring. My very own wrestling ring, holy shit, am I stoked. I can work out whenever I want, practice all my lucha shit till it fucking shines, I can tope like a son of a bitch out into the grass, lot softer than those wood and concrete floors, gonna try to work up an over the corner post plancha- look out below, motherfuckers- this is gonna be fucking GREAT. Anyone who wants some wrestling lessons- seriously- now's your chance, free lessons in exchange for you being my wrestling dummy when I want to work on my stuff. I can probably get some good ropes and turnbuckles for a couple hundred bucks- maybe I'll use some of my tax refund, thank you Uncle Sam, and thank YOU, taxpayers, I'm laughing so hard right now I'm about to fall out of my chair- anyone who knows anyone who's getting some new rugs let me know, I'll be happy to take their old padding off their hands. If I use it just a couple times for shows I'll get my money back in saved ring rent. As for CAPW, I don't know when the next show will be, but one there shall be, so I vow. Check out the website at http://sky.prohosting.com/capw/index.htm. I think that'll get you there, anyway, if not, I can't help you, talk to Joe or something. If you do get on, put something in the message board or something. In other wrestling news, Joe Clark (AWF, see last issue) has sent me a bunch of e-mails wanting to kiss and make up, so I guess we will. I actually like the guy, I'm thinking last Friday may have been an aberration cos normally he's quite a nice fellow, I got back with him and told him my first problem was the total disrespect he showed the Death Falcon by putting him in with a couple lard ass shit bombs, and my second problem was that he had a problem with me having the first problem. He agreed, said he was kind of stuck using LLD since it was his ring, and his Dad was the referee- can you see my Dad as a ref, holy shit, what a thought- and he was sorry, blah blah blah, so I guess we're cool again. The trip last week wasn't a total loss, some guy from Supreme Championship Wrestling was there, e-mailed me this week wanting to book the DF in a Death Match tournament they're running this Saturday, somewhere in Indiana, had to pass, not sure I'd wanna go that far to get all cut up in the first place, I'm also invited to a party at the lovely Anita's Saturday, rather do that anyway. Although if I show up with a 2 X 4 wrapped in barbed wire, watch your damn backs. Hey Anita- is your boss gonna be at your party? I hope so, I'll hit his rich man ass up for some wrestling subsidizing bucks, we'll put his name on the fucking ring apron, he can write it off as advertising. (THAT SOUNDS LIKE A VERY GOOD IDEA). Yes it does. It also wasn't a total loss (we're back to last week again, keep up) cos I forgot to mention I overheard one of the chaw boys in the back saying "It was just a job of work," which has become my favorite new expression. While we're on favorites, my current favorite CD title is "What The- You Mean I Can't Sing?!" by Joe, I mean, by Melvin van Peebles, and current music mag, with Mojo going downhill, is Ugly Things, I think you can only get it by mail, like I do, I've never seen it in a bookstore, great fucking read, I've recommended the website before, check it out, also www.luchavavoom.com, strippers and masked wrestlers, a natural combination in my book. Got a couple books at the library yesterday but haven't cracked them yet, too busy cracking my fragile eggshell mind, also saw where Nevada Barr has a new book out about how she found religion, I'm thinking about writing a rebuttal. I kind of wish one of those door to door evangelists would stop by right now, I remember once WAY back when, when Loretta and I were still living behind her parents I had a pray for death style hangover, I let one of those guys in and lay down on the couch and let him speak, I was asleep inside of two minutes, when I woke up he was gone- so was the toaster- but I felt much better. Someone, I can't remember who but I'm thinking it was Bobby Ferg, used to call those guys who come to your door "God botherers" which used to crack me the hell up. Still does. As noted earlier, my parents are back from their cruise, my mom had a wonderful time, and my Dad had a pretty good time, which for him is beyond a wonderful time. My Dad was trying to tell me about this one entertainer there in one of the lounges- D: "He was great. He comes out lip singing-" My mom is sitting there, so I ask her "What the hell is he trying to tell me?" M: "The man started doing back flips." Actually, I'm sorry that I asked, cos I'm sure my Dad would have eventually worked his way up to doing back flips himself. Why couldn't he just SAY "back flips"? Cos he's MY DAD. Along those lines my Dad went in some restaurant there in Cozumel and got himself what you and I would call a burrito, which he calls a burrida, which led Montezuma to take his inevitable revenge. B: Did they not warn you about that on the ship?
And just think- we're only a week away from Martinsburg III (which will probably be akin to Ali/Frazier III, which Ali later noted "was like death"). On the subject of turtles, one of the theme ingredients on Iron Chef earlier this week was soft shell turtles. I've seen them brutalize a number of live animals on there before- carp, squid, octopi, eels- but this had to be the worst. Bright red blood EVERYWHERE, those damn turtles are hideous, their head and neck look appallingly like an uncircumcised penis, so when then chefs started whacking them off, so to speak, it was cringe inducing on a number of levels. When Sarah was in N-ICU the circumcision room was right beside where we washed up to go in, I watched them perform many a circumcision in the 3 plus months Sarah was in there. Yowtch. Still, I'm for 'em, personally I don't miss my foreskin in the slightest (and my dick wouldn't be nearly as cute in one of them shrouds).
Them days ain't these days, however, cos she continues to look increasingly rough, old and pale and bloated, she's never looked anywhere near as bad as she did last Sunday when I met her to drop off the girls. It was all I could do to keep from laughing and pointing. Rachel was telling me her boyfriend's- yeah, I know, Rachie and boyfriend, it flips my fucking ass out too- Dad commented after seeing Loretta and Paul, "Rachel sure got the looks in that family." Ha. It infuriates both girls when Paul is mistaken for their father. No more than it does me, girls. No more than it does me.
He also sent me this pretty arousing picture of our girl Rachael Ray licking chocolate off of this big spoon in just her bra and a skirt, where the hell do you find stuff like that? Hey, wait a minute. "Latest rant"? Cougar beat wolf in last week's animal fight. I ain't buying it. Been asked if I've been writing anything other than these things lately, actually yes, on the final draft of "Boone County Versus Dimension X", turned out kind of long, pushing 20,000 words, but it's still lean, it's good.
I also admire like hell the kamikaze pilots, I don't think they were crazy at all, I think they were fucking straight up patriots, and if there were some alternate world Soviet fleet sitting off our shores right now, you don't think I'd fly a plane into one of their carriers to keep their shittin' Commie asses off of American soil? I guaren-goddamn-tee you I would, in high dudgeon all the way down, "take THIS, mother fuckers". Of course I'm old now, and pissy and bitter, and just don't give a fuck, in fact going out in a blaze of glory for a good cause sounds pretty damn appealing. If you'd asked me 25 years ago when I was young and in love and screwing Loretta three times a day, every day, when that was something well worth doing, believe me, I'm sure you'd have gotten quite a different answer, which is why I admire those young fuckers all the more. I understand that we were the good guys, and I am not at all happy that the kamikazes killed a lot of USN personnel, that's what numb fuck complainer wasn't getting, just like I got into a HUGE argument with someone not long after 9/11 when she was talking about those chickenshit terrorists and I disagreed, sitting in the cockpit and steering a plane into a building is a lot of things, but chickenshit it's not, that's having the courage of your fucking convictions. I'm not saying they were RIGHT, I'm saying they fucking had guts. Enough of that shit, I'm sure it's gonna generate more hate mail than it'll quell, but I don't care, keep those cards and letters coming, folks. Speaking of cards and letters, more correspondence with Miss Impetuous, who writes a damn fine e-mail, and who has also warned me off the Heineken- Joe, take note- as she visited the brewery when she was in Amsterdam and discovered they make Heineken out of chemicals and rat shit. I thought it tasted familiar. Hence the Beck's last night, the Germans are damn serious about their beer, you can't brew beer in Germany using anything other than water, hops, malt and yeast, I mean it's the fucking LAW, no Budweiser rice- RICE?!- for them, though it would be hypocritical of me to crack on Bud, drank tons of it in my time (of dying). In queer eye for the Death Falcon news, also got an e-mail last week from this gay guy who says he finds me "lonely, sexy, philosophical, and futuristic". Here, here. Actually, it wasn't just Dear Gay Steve, I've always gotten on really well with gay guys, I guess because, no matter how fucking gay they are, I have no interest in beating them up. They don't offend me, or scare me, I don't give a fig about guilt by association, and if they happen to hit on me I just tell them, "I'm a pussy man, myself," and it's cool, I don't get all freaked like some asshole. Joe and I were at this party at Anne's farm one time- it was me and Joe because I asked Loretta, You want to go?/No./Do you care if I go?/No, and then later this is the kind of shit she would throw up to me, how I was never around, wouldn't spend time with her, it was NO fucking win for me, from about '89 on, I just didn't know it at the time, but boy did I fucking find out in the end- anyway, we're at this party hanging with this guy, nice guy, a little effeminate but not much, I knew he lived with another guy, but I also knew he'd been married and had a kid so I wasn't really thinking, he was kind of clingy all night, every time I turned around he was right there, but I thought he was just, you know, basking in my glow or something, toward the end of the evening he's pretty lit up, grabs me by the arm and says, "I'd just like to throw you down on the ground." I get pissed, cos there for about ten years, every time I went to a party it ended up with someone wanting to fight me, hell, I wouldn't even DO anything, but some drunk dickhead would get his mad on and want to take it out on me, I mean, I know I run my mouth, but God bless it, GET OVER IT, and besides, I can take your fucking ass. I think this is what we got here, I turn to Joe in exasperation, "Dammit, here we go AGAIN, I been nothing but fucking nice to this son of a bitch all fucking night, and now he's wanting to fight me." Joe's laughing fit to bust, he manages to choke out, "He doesn't wanna fight you, Bill." I'm like, "What? But he said . . ." I turn back to him and he's rolling his big eyes at me and blowing kisses. "Oh. OOOOOOOOOOOOH. Now I get it." We steered him back to who I now realized was his boyfriend, and they left soon after, no harm done. Watched "The Human Vapor" the other day, pretty good mid-60's Japanese SFer, introduced by the overrated Quentin Tarentino, followed by "Creature With the Blue Hand", a 60's German horror film with the real life demented Klaus Kinski, who's fantastic in the incredible "Aguirre, the Wrath Of God", hell, I just love the title, but not so hot in this, pretty dull movie, Klaus made dozens of barely watchable Euro horror things, I've got "Asylum Erotica" cos it had some hot Euro babe doing nude scenes- also, it was $1.99- but I don't think I've ever been able to watch it all the way through, hot nude Euro babe notwithstanding. People been after me for more stories, I'll tell a brief one cos I'm running down, I'll try to rewrite "Grandad Versus the Angel"- lost in the fucking computer crash of last spring, have I ever mentioned I FUCKING HATE COMPUTERS- in honor of the upcoming trip to Martinsburg, may include it with the next letter. How about the origin of this damn compulsion I have to be looked at ("Hey, watch this" being three of my favorite words)? I think it started when I was three- and yes, I DO remember this, vividly, so does my Mom, she still brings it up from time to time- when I went to some big ass community Halloween party with my parents, and they had this costume contest. All the kids lined up, one by one we'd walk out onto this stage, say our names, and then walk off. I was in this little devil outfit- typecasting if ever I saw it- and I remember walking out on stage and seeing all these people looking at me, and it hit me. They're all looking at me. They're ALL looking at ME. I flat fucking loved it. I figured I'd give 'em their money's worth, so I broke into my Little Devil dance. That went over pretty well, so I figured I'd gild the lily, and started singing as well, this impromptu number I came up with on the spot called, appropriately enough, "I'm a Little Devil" to approximately the tune of "I'm a Little Teapot"- I been ripping off stuff my entire musical career- and THAT went over really well also. Alas, though, as has so often happened, the audience tired of my performance long before I did. Mr. Emcee Man sends the next kid out, a clown, thinking I'd get the hint. A couple solid whacks with my trident and Bozo is running for the wings. "Can't you see I'm SINGING here?" So Mr. Emcee Man comes out himself- I tried to fend him off with my trident as well, but not being three years old, he wasn't intimidated- and escorts me, none too gently, off the stage- and out of the contest. Goddamn, kicked out of something AGAIN, that's all that ever seems to happen to me. My Dad comes over and I'm quite righteously outraged, "Did you see what that man DID, he put his hands on me!" "Was it anything like this?" "OWWWW. OWWWW."
Two alone Later Bill
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Breakin' rocks in the hot tub 
One of his favorite parts of the trip was when they visited this turtle
farm, and he got to play with all these big turtles. See, I get it from
him. One of his least favorite- oh, I wish you could hear him tell this
tale, I can't do him justice- was when Zel, taking it on the chin from
Montezuma herself, decides against all good advice to go ashore anyway
and, piss drunk, soils herself there in the lighter, which then has to
turn around and take her quite literally shit dripping ass back to the
ship, while my Dad has to be physically restrained by my Mom and Aline
from throwing Zel overboard.
Laura, Anita, and Allegra, sweethearts all- you may know Anita and
Allegra better as the beautiful but treacherous Falconettes- took Sarah
prom dress shopping last weekend, and they done good, Sarah looks lovely
in her dress, Joe has some photos of her in it, please include one on the
site. Since I included a photo of me and Loretta last year with Sarah and
her date's Winter Formal photo, I'm scanning in a picture of Loretta in
her prom dress for this issue's comparison's sake. I cropped me out of it
since I've got this shitty, bangs down in my eyes haircut- it was fun
while it lasted- and I'm also doing this goofy, "Is my hard on
showing?" grimace (IT BETTER HAVE BEEN), ha, good point. To
compensate, I'm scanning in the white shorts picture which I've gotten
numerous requests for, seriously, so enjoy.
To
give Satan her due, Loretta was absolutely shit fucking hot in her day,
and a total treat between the sheets, dear GOD the fun we used to have,
and that was hardly a one way street, many was the time after an extended
bout of loving that I had to pick her brains up off the pillow and put
them back in her head, cos I'd fucked 'em out.
Got
an e-mail from Doug with the very sad news that their boxer, Jenna, is no
more. You're absolutely right, Doug, she was an excellent dog, so good in
fact that I'm willing to concede that she's tied for best dog ever with
Scout, the (for you who never met him) Lab/setter mix I got Loretta for
her birthday in '81, as sweet and gentle and loving an animal as ever
lived, just a fucking furry jewel, truly. If it's any consolation, I'm
sure she's up in Doggie Heaven right now with Scoutie, just tearing it up,
and since I believe dogs in Heaven can read, I just want to say to them
both, "Good dog! I love you and I miss you. Piss on something for
me."
And good gosh, I did NOT say I admired the Nazis last issue, they were
as evil a bunch of fucks as this planet has ever seen (though goddamn,
could they dress), I just said I thought old Hans had big balls, because
he did. I admire the fact that he told the Russians, "I don't give a
good goddamn what you do to me, how bad you fucking hurt me, and how many
times, you are NOT coming into my country unless it's over my dead body,
and you better believe I'm gonna kill a shit pot full of ya before that
happens" cos I don't think he was fighting for National Socialism, he
was fighting for Germany, and you- or at least I- have got to respect a
man willing to give it up for his country.
That's it for this one, boys and girls. I'm not hopeless, I'm just
stunned.