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5/22/03 Rock Hell aka Trip 666
Roll over Gordon Solie, and tell Freddy Miller the news Hey Another daytime edition, but I want to get it out before the weekend, when I'm again headed South, and tomorrow looks real busy, so- Contrary to the title of this issue, last weekend's trip to Rock Hill wasn't all that bad (666 was the mileage down and back, swear). Got to meet and drink beer with a genuine old school wrestling icon, the aforementioned Mr. Rich, and that was cool, way cool, even if he was something of a disappointment. He just seemed sort of- vacant. Vacuous, even. Not distant because he was disinterested, but because he just didn't seem to be all there. Had an old school corrugated forehead second to only someone like Abdullah, I thought those Japanese guys I met last year in Pittsburgh were carved up, shit, their heads were baby's butts compared to TR. Not too many funny stories from the trip, so I'll include some other funny stuff later, although we did do things like- D: Here in a little bit you need to turn right. When we got there we found out Aline's youngest son, Tracy- she had 7 kids, 4 girls, 3 boys, down one now since her daughter Sherri and both Sherri's kids, as well as 2 other kids in her car, were killed in this just shit fucking horrible car wreck about 10 years ago when this crazed blue haired old bitch in a Caddy pulled out to pass someone and head on-ed them- BHOB walked away from it complaining Sherri should have somehow dodged her- had moved back in down stairs. Tracy's not a bad guy but he's sort of like Aline's Tina, to the point on being born within a week of Tina, he's also got a good bit of leech in his blood just like my youngest sister, Aline thought he was never gonna move out, lived with his momma till his late 20's when he got married, she thought he'd leave then but he just moved his wife and her kid into Aline's house as well, Jesus, some fucking people, I guess he got his own house about 4 years ago, he and his wife separated in January so he's back downstairs. Why am I telling you this? Because that immediately halved the amount of space I would be sharing with my dad, and since he continues to defy the fucking laws of physics by taking up more space than any six other people, and since it rained the whole time we were down there, I spent most of my time in the bedroom (which I had to share with my dad come sleepy time) reading. Book reviews later. Even the sleeping in the same room as my dad was uneventful, in fact he was the one complaining- D: When you roll over every joint in your body pops. It's like sleeping
with clapanets in the bed. My parents had a good time at my mom's 60th high school reunion, my mom said one of her old (no shit) teachers even showed up and gave a speech. Probably about the time she found Moses in the rushes. Went to the show at Winthrop (which is a University now, not a college like it used to be) but didn't work. which was fine by me, I was sort of like a reserve and they had enough guys already. Usually at these things you'll have at least one or two athletic younger up and comers, but this was all broke down old fucks and fat boys (DF0 excepted, of course). I was gonna work Bo something or other, I think it was Sackashit, before his scheduled opponent showed up, just as well I didn't, he was a shit bag tub of guts, made Bucky look like Pietro Maximoff. I lost patience with him finally and told him if he sandbagged me in the ring I was gonna punch his fucking teeth out, which is not just me talking out my ass, I was pretty annoyed by that point. Got a laugh out of Old TR tho, sat down next to him and drank a couple of his beers- he drank 8 Bud Lights before his match, God knows how many afterward cos I declined his invitation to "chase wimmen" after the show, just went on back to Aline's, old geezer that I am. If Tom had had a little more personality I'd have thought about it. Ate like a damn pig while I was down there, barbeque and fried chicken like predicted, some big sloppy hot dogs at The Friendly Grill, no collards but a big pot of diced turnips and turnip greens- some people turn up their nose at greens, you know what, you're stupid, not if you don't like them, but if you put them down- and every time I turned around my mom was shoving a toasted pimento cheese sandwich- I really like Southern pimento cheese spread, it's not that sweet Ballard-y stuff we get up here, it's real salty and sharp, and my mom, God love her, knows that, maybe a little too well- in my face. I guess if anything, the nerve grinder of the trip was, neither one of my parents seem to think they can speak unless their pie holes are all crammed full of pie. My dad will sit in silence (other than farting) for an hour, but let him shove half a turkey in his head and he wants to recite the Gettysburg Address. Please. Hung out downstairs with Tracy a little, to escape the upstairs crew, but not much, cos he just wanted to cry in his beer, and while I'm totally sympathetic, it got old pretty quick (so now I know how you guys must feel). I could really understand his being baffled though, cos he kept saying- "Why now? We struggled for fucking 10 years, I finally have a really good job, we're financially secure for the first time ever, we have our own house- and NOW SHE SAYS SHE'S UNHAPPY?!" Join the fucking club, big guy. The fall of '93, when Loretta will own up- to me, cos I CAUGHT HER, she tells every one else it never happened- to first starting to run around on me (there's things happened before that that didn't sit right at the time that I just bought her line on, but looking back, which as we all know is fifty-fifty, I'm pretty sure were what they looked like) we'd just come off the best summer we'd ever had as far as finances, we took more vacations that summer than the five previous ones combined, went all over the place and had a damn good time at it, or so I thought, had more disposable income than we'd ever had in 14 years of marriage, had just bought our first new, as opposed to used, car, the bills were still being paid with quite a bit left over each month which we'd NEVER had before then, and that was the fall she decided she was unhappy with her life and had to look elsewhere. I told Tracy I don't know what his wife's problem was, but I believe Loretta just looked around and thought, materialistically, this is as good as it's gonna get with Bill- and it's not good enough. She'd started running with a big money crowd through her work, and I believe she figured, why settle for 3 bedrooms when you can have 6, why settle for a week at Nags Head when you can have 2 weeks in the Bahamas, why drive a Taurus when you can drive a BMfuckingW? I'm pushing 40, I better get my ass in gear and snag a rich one while these big tits are still above my waist. Knowing Loretta's character like I do now, I swear to God I believe it was every bit that cold and calculated. Yeah, well fuck her man, sincerely. Tracy's going (quite drunkenly and through his tears, suck it up, man, drive everybody crazy with your rage, but don't cry) "What about our wedding vows, and richer and poorer and death do us part? What about love?" Yeah right- what about it? Loretta and I are back at war, don't ask me fucking why cos I really don't know. Another hour long scream fest on the phone Monday, a good 90% of the screaming being hers, all because, after catching her in 2 falsehoods in the first couple minutes of the conversation I asked "Are you EVER gonna stop fucking lying to me?" It was a valid and honest question, though a damn stupid one because I already know the answer to it, but it sure set her off, Jesus, I like to think I'm the crazy one but some of the shit she was saying needed to be translated from Venusian. She's just- ah, fuck it. It's like Satan said I'm going to take everything Bill hates in a person and turn Loretta into it- then did. And I'm gonna tell ya, the day Loretta quits blaming my drinking for every bed (meant to type bad, must be Freud at work) thing that SHE EVER FUCKING DID, is the day 76 monkeys fly out of my butt playing Lickin' Stick on the fucking trombone. Make a musical out of that. Time for a funny story. Most of Aline's kids dropped by at one time or
another while we were there (I got called Billy more times in those 4 days
than I normally do in a year) and everyone was reminiscing and eventually
every one of them got around to "Remember when Billy hit Bit in the
head with the turtle"? We'd been down there one summer when I was maybe 5 or 6, and I'd caught this big water turtle. It comes time to go back to my Grandmother's house, and I'm not wanting to let the turtle go, I'll let it go later at Grandma's. My dad was being very reasonable, Billy, you can't let it go in your Grandmother's yard, it's a water turtle, it'll die. B: We can come back here and let it go. After further discussion, and my dad taking off his belt, I agreed to let the turtle go. I bent down at the water's edge like I was letting him go, and when my Dad turned around, I threw the turtle at him and bounced it right off the back of his skull. He chased me around the yard for a while, holding the back of his head- even back then I had a hell of an arm- when he got close to catching me I ran and jumped off the dock into the lake thinking he wouldn't follow me, but I guess his noggin was still throbbing something fierce from being clocked with a turtle, he jumped in right behind me, belt in hand. Man, he started spanking me as soon as he caught me out there in the lake, almost drowned the damn both of us, and all the way through the shallows as he dragged me by the arm to the bank, and then there on the bank, "Hit- whap- me- whap- with a- whap-turtle-whap." "Boy, that sure was some spanking," Aline said, like some damn sports fan talking about the time she saw the Babe hit one out. "He spanked you up one side and down the other. He spanked you so bad my kids were crying just watching it (true). Course, I didn't blame him one bit. You don't hit your Daddy in the head with a turtle." Maybe you don't. Later, my dad was saying how funny it was that that incident made such a big impression on them, that they'd still remember and talk about it 40 years later. "It was just business as usual for us." Very true, Dad. And if I catch a turtle down there this weekend, watch your back. Took the girls to see X-Men last Wednesday on early out day, it was
okay, I thought the character of Nightcrawler was quite well done, both
acting and effects, and very true to the comic version. I also think Went to Applebee's to eat afterward, you ought to try the Blue Cheese Sirloin while they still have it, it was good. Book reviews. Finished "Beneath The Ice", it picked up some by the end, readable, with some interesting concepts, but draggy. Finished the Joe Lansdales, not so hot, they were billed as "Suspense" on the cover, but they were too outlandish and tall tale-y to be suspenseful, or even to take seriously, though there's lots of serious stuff, like rape and torture and murder, abounding. He also tries too hard to be flippantly humorous, which he doesn’t pull off. He's written some good horror short stories you might want to check out, but I'd pass on the novels. The Pronzini was okay, entertaining enough while you're reading it, but nothing that's gonna stick with you. Also read Ray Bradbury's latest novel (I sort of thought he was dead by now) "Let's All Kill Constance", see comments regarding the Pronzini. Sent the rest of "Drains" to Tor books Monday with a cover letter saying "Here it is, just like you asked." We'll see. Got an e-mail from Staci, she's in Key West (I'm a little hurt she didn't stop by on her way down like last year, but what the hell), sent me her address and phone number and an invitation to stop in anytime, I think this summer I'm gonna take her up on it. Hell, I've got two kidneys. One of the rat pack has gone missing, and on my watch. It's uncanny, every time I go off in here on those damn dogs and vow to kill 'em, within days Jack comes to me and asks me to watch them. I've been feeding them this week while Jack and Mary are at the beach, but I haven't seen the smaller of the two hairball terrier like things since Sunday night, and I sincerely hope he's putrefying somewhere even as I speak, a possum head lodged in his gullet. I didn't have anything to do with it, though. No, really. I admit it looks funny, but honest, I didn't, there's no way I'd do away with one and not all three (and if I was gonna only do for one it would be the beagle).
Gonna finish with another story, this is a rewrite of part of Bill Vs. Grandma, Nuclear Winter, and Sepsis, which was lost when the shittin' computer blew up a few months back. This is just the Bill Vs. Grandma part. This would be my maternal grandmother, the Rock Hill one. Normally, she and I got along just fine. One, because she was a genuinely sweet old lady who had a soft spot for her tetched youngest (at that time) grandchild, and also, she came from that switching school of Southern discipline that felt if the kid didn't need a transfusion after you'd switched them, you hadn't done your job, so I usually walked light when she was in charge.
G: You turn that right back. I thought that settled it, so I went and sat down. G: I said, you turn that TV right back. I gave her the response I thought that deserved, which was to look at her like she was crazy, then went back to watching Cap'n Tug. G: You little heimus.
G: What the- BILLY! I started marching down the hall to my room- I may be beat, but I'll be damned if I'm turning Cap'n Tug over to her old "stories". I'd have been okay if I hadn't looked back. I got to the door of my room, glanced back over my shoulder, and there she was, turning off Cap'n Tug- for God's sake woman, it was CAP'N TUG TIME- and it was more than I could take. B: AAAAAAAAAAH. I went charging back down the hall at her. My grandma in '62 was already 67 years old (she lived to be 95, through no fault of mine) and was tiny, 4' 11 or so, and thin. I wasn't her size yet, but I was possessed. I'd meant to tackle her, but, alerted by my mindless screaming, she turned, and I speared her instead in the hip with my head. We both went down. G: Ooh. Ow. You dirty bum. She probably would've, but at that point I hear my dad pulling up out front. Sore neck and all, I'm up and in my room, in bed and under the covers, in seconds. I hear the front door open, a murmur of concerned voices, and then my dad comes down the hall and into my room B: I'm asleep. I've been asleep ever since you left.
Later Bill
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"Hindsight
is fifty-fifty" "Wildfire" Tommy Rich
Famke
Janssen is hotter than shit (Hallie Berry ain't exactly no mud bug,
herself). Saw a preview for The Hulk, hated the computer generated Hulk
beyond fucking reason, I mean, it actually made me angry I thought it
sucked so hard, probably go see the movie anyway (I think Jennifer
Connelly is hotter than shit). Saw Matrix Reloaded previews as well, never
saw the first, not really a Keanu fan (I don't think he's hotter than
shit, for one thing) and I'm not normally an effect over content man, but
some of the effects in the preview were absolutely amazing. Probably see
it down the line as well, need to borrow Matrix (you have it, don't you
Doug?) and watch it first I guess. Not that my reviews of these will make
any difference, every one and their sister will see them no matter what I
say.
DF0
is gonna wrestle Bobby Blaze in the main event on the CPW card in Ashland
at 2pm on 6/1 (although THE CARD IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE). Gonna work cold,
which means without a script, which is how they do it in the Land Of The
Rising Sun, should be good experience (I just hope it is a good
experience). Also pretty firm for a tables match for XMCW in Nitro
sometime in July, taking my dad to Martinsburg in August, definitely want
to get a match in in Hagerstown while I'm there. The more places you work
the more attention you get, and PWI has already asked Bob for some more
info on me and Kris, which is very neat- who knows, the DF might actually
make the 500.
This
was the Spring of '62, when I was five. My parents and granddad were at
the funeral home cos my Aunt Lanny (not an actual aunt, but an old family
friend) had died, and my grandmother was at home with me. Come five
o'clock and I go into the living room to watch Cap'n Tug on Channel 5
(that number keeps coming up). He was the host of this local kids cartoon
show, sort of a Metromedia Mr. Cartoon (though infinitely better) and was
just about my damn best TV buddy, even more so than Miss Connie on Romper
Room, or Pick Temple, even though I was a member of Pick Temple's Clean
Plate Club and had actually met, or at least been shoved at by my mom, ol'
Pick when he made an appearance at the Super Giant. Pick had dried vomit
on his cowboy boots and smelled of whiskey, both of which impressed the
hell out of me, but he still wasn't Cap'n Tug. Cap'n Tug showed lots of
Popeye, and I liked Popeye. He kicked ass.
For
some reason the networks were running over, and my grandma's
"stories" were still on. My grandma followed her stories like
the devout follow their faith. I went up to the TV and changed the
channel.
She
got up and changed the channel back to her stories. Her wrinkled bottom
wasn't even back to her chair yet before I'd run up to the TV and flipped
it back to Cap'n Tug.
And
he did, so bad the neighbor kids cried.