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6/10/03 School's Out
Hey Well, the girls have done their last days as Dots. It's the end of one era, and pretty close to the end of another. After they leave here Sunday to go to Baltimore, they'll be back here a total of four weeks this summer before moving out there to live August 9th. I'm not very happy about it even one tiny bit, but what the fuck are you gonna do? If you're me, act like an asshole. What's Bill drinking? Green tea right now, been a wet, wet week, three cases- yeah, cases- of Bud and most of my Wild Turkey Russell's Reserve since Thursday (this is what, Tuesday?). Just doing that pissy feeling sorry for myself thing, but now I feel so shitty today physically I don't have the energy to feel sorry for myself, so, mission accomplished. I still have about two fingers of the WTRR left, it's expensive as hell I'd wager, I didn't buy it, Joe and Laura gave it to me for Christmas, I'll save it for this weekend, any of you bourbon drinkers are welcome to a shot, Jason, I figure you'll love it, it's 101 but really smo-cough- smoo- cough- uh, smooth.
There's some pretty amusingly titled Spanish and Italian Westerns in the VSOM movie guide, some are actually pretty cool- And The Crows Will Dig your Grave/ In The Name Of The Father, The Son, And The Holy Colt/My Horse, My Gun, Your Widow- and some have that weird Romance language syntax thing- And They Smelled The Strange, Exciting, Dangerous Scent Of Dollars/Ducker You Sucker(?!)/Shoot Joe and Shoot Again. If you like foreign movies you're probably already familiar with it, but if not, check out their website- www.vsom.com.
Been reading some books on line lately as well- check out www.borderlinebooks.com, go into their on-line library and you can read stuff like Adrift In The Ether, or Fuzz, Acid And Flowers, or a couple others, about garage, psychedelic and progressive bands from the 60's to now. You might want to go in through the www.ugly-things.com/ website if you have any interest in that type music, they've got over a hundred links to some really neat sites.
Anyway, the punk book was pretty good but far too focused on the Sex Pistols, who I give their props and all, but don't find that interesting a subject. Some guy summed it up for me when he said- "Sid Vicious. What a pest." Exactly. Everything after that is redundant. (What a pest, that cracks me up).
Rachel had an amusing experience in the bathroom at Kohl's, said there was some old lady in there with her ("How could you tell it was an old lady?" "I could see her granny shoes under the stall") who was having a hard time with things, straining and grunting, Rachel said the lady started chanting "Heave HO! Heave HO!" I swear to God, people are nuts. Rachel was laughing so hard telling me about it I thought she was going to choke. Eating? Nothing much new. Kroger had eggs on sale last week for 69- hey, this fucking computer doesn't have a cents sign, piece of shit- 69 cents a dozen, bought 6 dozen cos I eat lots of eggs anyway, made a BIG thing of egg salad cos Rachie loves her egg salad- none of us love her egg salad farts, however- it was in the Tupperware bowl I usually put left over pasta in, so later when I needed it I just threw some left over penne in with what was left of the egg salad. Didn't taste all that great, but by God, it was filling. What else is going on? Joe came out last week and fixed my door. I was so damn impressed I could hardly stand it. He not only fixed the door, HE BROUGHT BEER OUT HERE FOR ME TO DRINK WHILE I WATCHED HIM. "If there's anything I can do?" "Stay outta the way and drink your beer." "I can do that." On a slightly grimmer note, my dad got the results back on his ultrasound, and he's got an aneurysm in the aorta in his stomach. In the measuring system for these things it’s a 3.7, they'll keep an eye on it, if it gets to be a 5.0 then they'll fix it, they didn't say how, but I'd assume by a bypass. I didn't talk to my dad, so I don't know how worked up he is about it, I'm sure my mom's worked up about it for both of them. On a less grim note, the latest Giant Robot has these shirts for sale through J-list- www.jlist.com- with slogans printed on them in Japanese saying things like "I'm a pervert", "I'm a strange foreigner" "Respect men, women are lowly" and "Dirty American devil". Just in case you wanted one. What's Bill listening to? This selection of movie soundtrack songs I got with a Mojo a while back. There's some really good stuff on here, but there's two songs back to back that bring back memories (oh dear God, here he goes again) of the already well documented Europe trip '72, here we go some more.
Sky was this blue blood from New Hampshire, 17 to my 15, and sort of plain, or so I thought at the time. She had long blond hair she always wore pulled back and pinned up, and big glasses, and she always wore these baggy sort of peasant tops. One thing led to another, and as the hair came down, and the glasses put away, and particularly after that baggy top came off- holy shit, this girl was fucking beautiful. We put that four hours to really good use, she'd put the soundtrack to Midnight Cowboy on her cassette deck, and it played a couple times during that four hours, and just like that Genesis song I don't know the name of, the Midnight Cowboy theme is ingrained in my head with this really great afternoon I once had. And while I like a lot of the really exotic positions, one thing about the good old missionary is that you can kiss while doing it, and I like to kiss while having sex, and Sky was an ungodly good kisser. "Time Is Tight" by Booker T. and the MGs, however- we move on
now to Italy, and I'm coming off of 36 hours straight spent sitting on the
toilet. I exaggerate that not by one minute. Something got into my guts
and absolutely just wore me out. We were supposed to go to this canteen
type thing that afternoon, and I was We dance a couple songs, and then the band plays Time is Tight, so I have to do the Time Is Tight dance (if you don't have a specific dance for certain songs, don't you dare call yourself a dancer in front of me). That part where the organ goes DUH DUH DUH is where I do the Time Is Tight stomp- and jar something loose in my delicate insides. Knowing I had a matter of mere seconds before the deluge, I whirled and jumped over this brick wall that was there, managed to get a few steps into the bushes that God thoughtfully put there for me, dropped my drawers and did what needed to be done (remind me sometime to tell you the story about the time I accidentally shit on the homeless guy's head). I hope you're never in a similar situation, but if you are, my suggestion is to wipe your ass with your underwear, throw them into the bushes, pull your drawers back up, and act like nothing happened. Sam, sweet child that she was, was very concerned, "Oh, you poor dear, sit down, let me get you something to drink, you're probably still dehydrated." "Yes, I'm feeling very weak, I'll probably need help getting to my room when we get back." "Don't you worry, sweetie, I'll take care of you." "You're an angel". And take care of me she did. God, I had so much fun when I was young. Don't like to get over much into current events in this thing, (I'd much rather talk about sexual experiences from over 30 years ago) but I will say I'm damned disappointed in Corky Sosa. At least one of us here at BBNL Central thinks cheating is horse shit, and cheaters suck. (YOU WOULDN'T BE POINTING A FINGER AT ME BY ANY CHANCE?)
(YOUR POINT WOULD BE WHAT?) Nothing. I have no point. (SURE YOU DO. RIGHT ON TOP OF YOUR FUCKING HEAD). You . . . sometimes I really wish I could mix it up with you. (I'D KILL YA). Not if I killed you first.
Loretta and I lived the summer of '81 at Carolina Beach, NC, part of it
with this Scots friend of ours, Bobby. Bobby was a genuinely nice guy,
salt of the fucking earth, but he was also a tee-total idiot, and someone
whom you could tell absolutely not one thing. He was always bitching about
how horrible American food was, but he'd do shit like this- he'd buy those
Carl Budding packages of lunch meat, put them in the freezer "Those
go in the refrigerator, Bob" "Not these"- come home, throw
the frozen bag of meat in boiling water and boil it until it was a
bubbling gray sludge, then pour it over mashed potatoes. "This is
terrible." "No shit." He'd do the same with canned
spaghetti, he'd buy that nasty, cheap, syrupy sweet Showboat canned
spaghetti, put it in the freezer, ALL his fucking food went in the
freezer, He moved out about halfway through the summer, mostly because my lazy ass offended his really strict Scot's work ethic. He complained to Jeff, his new room mate, who later told me cos he thought it was funny, "All Bill ever does is lie on the beach, and drink beer, and screw Loretta." Yeah, well that's not bad work if you can get it, Mr. Bobby Ferg.
Everyone please remember the cook-out this Saturday, looks like we're gonna have a good turnout (except for RON), I think Bobby and a couple of the rasslin' boys from Ashland may stop by. And you know, I will not apologize Later Bill
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School's
out forever
Watching?
Watched Satan Never Sleeps earlier today on FMC (you people who work
really do miss a lot of good movies) with the always reliable William
Holden as this priest having it rough in newly Communist China while
getting all het up by France Nuyen, which is understandable, she's a real
cutie, with a great smile. It's a little on the mushy side, but still
pretty good. As a recommendation, watch for The Rounders on TCM this
Monday, 6/16 at 10 pm, if that's not past your bedtime, it's pretty damn
entertaining, I've seen it a number of times, the DirecTV Movie guide sums
it up very well- "Two cowboys (Glenn Ford, Henry Fonda- man, you
can't go wrong with those guys) get drunk, cavort with women, and take
bets on a bucking stallion that likes corn mash".
On
the watching theme, I hope you are all down with the Jack, who's back on
Cartoon Network at 10 pm, Sunday through Thursday. Great show. The girls
got me a Samurai Jack t-shirt for Father's Day, already gave it to me cos
Rachel couldn't wait. Now all I have to do is get into the future where my
evil is law.
Read
my big punk book over the past few days while sitting at my desk pounding
beers and listening to Nebula (not nearly as good as billed, but they have
great cover art), Blondie live (a $4 cut out, with reason) and the
expanded/remixed Secret Treaties by Blue Oyster Cult. Got all three plus
another FMW video for under $30. As I've stated before, smart shoppers
shop like Bill. Just don't live like him.
Speaking
of pests, I think I may have found out what happened to rat pack shitter
#3, who is still among the missing. The guy who lives next door told
Rachel he's seen a coyote in the yard a few times lately (I saw one, one
evening last year driving home, it was eating some road kill, which is
thick out this way) and he thinks it may have gotten rps #3. Sure as shit
works for me. I thought he may have gotten sick, since he was the one
hurling under my window a while back, but a rat pack eating coyote is even
better. Said something to Mary about it last week, she just shrugged and
said, "Oh well, that happens out here sometimes," seemed about
as tore up about it as I was, actually. This is certainly my chance, (you
can't see me, but I'm twirling my mustache- ow). I can disappear the
little fuckers myself now and blame old Wile E.
The
first song is the theme to Midnight Cowboy. When we were in Spain, we'd
have lunch late, about 2, then we'd have a 4 hour break, like a siesta
period. I was sitting next to this girl called Sky- this was '72,
remember, I found out later her real name was Stephanie- I forget what we
were talking about, but we were into this deep discussion when lunch ended
so we went up to her room to continue it. They used to put these big
bottles of red wine on the tables at every meal for us, real, real strong
stuff that you were supposed to cut with the water in the big jugs there
on the table as well, a bunch of us got quite accidentally shit faced
until we were informed of that. I snagged one of the bottles to take up
with us, and I'm pretty sure you know where I'm going with this.
still
a little shakey, but wanting a change of scene after a day and a half in a
bathroom stall (no one entertained me with Heave Ho, either). There was
this band, and they started playing the Stones "Brown Sugar" and
being the dancing damn fool that I am, I asked this girl Sam, to dance.
After our afternoon together Sky had sort of drifted off, not in a bad
way, just in one of those hippie-ish, it's 1972 ways, it apparently didn't
mean as much to her later as it had seemed to at the time, but that was
okay cos Sam was a lot of fun, she was this real earthy, Texas cowgirl,
funny as all hell, just a hoot, looked like a blond, better built Linda
Mann, which will mean nothing to any of you but Joe, and maybe not him, if
he doesn’t remember how Linda looked in high school.
Well,
let's see . . . you unfailingly attack your opponent before the bell, you
throw shit, sometimes literally, in their eyes, you interfere in other
wrestlers matches, you attack people you're not even wrestling after their
match, you load your mask before you head butt, you both eye poke AND
gouge (I'm seeing an ocular theme developing here), you blacked Bobby's
eye terribly last match with a blatantly illegal socket mash-
I
noticed in the punk book there were a lot of pictures of them eating.
Mostly it looked like plates of vomit and table scraps. My theory on Brit
food is that they cook everything to death so that it's already not just
soft, but sort of like predigested. I'm serious, 90% of Brit food is vari-colored
mush, cos they've all got such horrific teefers that they can't chew, they
want something they can just slurp down like infants with their pablum,
that won't knot up in their guts later.
"Bob,
it's in CANS for Christ's sake", "Don't want it to go
wrong" he'd say, Bob had a deathly fear of his food going wrong, this
from someone who regularly ate haggis (as did Loretta and I when we spent
April '81 in Inverness, Scotland as part of the Sabres ill-fated Spring
Offensive and Bob's sweet old mom- his dad fell in the canal one night
years earlier, coming home from the pub, and drowned, glub, good thing I
didn't stay there long, I think that fucking canal had it’s eye on me-
fixed us many a traditional meal including Scots' Broth- absolutely
delicious- and the aforementioned haggis, tasted like really strong potted
meat with some oatmeal mixed in, I found an eye in mine, no shit, tasted
like- well, eye- we'd get fish and chips from this little shop, best fish
{and chips, for that matter} I've ever had, bar none, but the hot oily
fish would sometimes pull the newsprint off the paper cone they'd put it
in, so you could read your lunch, "Hey, my fish says someone just
shot the Pope!" "Yeah, well, don't believe everything you read
on a fish"- anyway) he'd get a frozen can of spaghetti out of the
freezer, boil THE UNOPENED CAN for about 45 minutes, pour the resulting
slop, which looked like something you'd see dripping from a zombie's mouth
in Dawn Of The Dead, over mashed potatoes- he ate his breakfast cereal
over mashed potatoes- take a few bites and pronounce "American food's
shite." "No, American food's fine, it's your brain that's shite."
Sarah
has moved on in her love life, Patrick of a few issues back is ancient
history, I guess because he DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH TATTOOS AND PIERCINGS,
Jesus H. Christ. New boy is named Robbie, seems nice enough, he'll be out
here Saturday, he's from California, 19 I think, going in the Navy this
fall. Whatever.
I'm
making a career of evil