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8/15/02 Don't Throw Stones
I'm hot blooded, check it and see Hey Been in a wicked, wicked bad mood this past week. Loretta changed her original plans for this week, the girls to be with me, opted instead to take it off and take the girls on vacation, to Baltimore first to pick up limp dick, (you have no idea how I wish he was 6'5" and 250 so I could slaughter his ass in clear conscience) and from there to Six Flags, the beach, etc., and man, I ain't taking it so good. Trying to be a mature human in front of the girls, particularly Sarah, who wasn't going to go, I said, hell, go, with my blessing, have a good time, it has to beat just sitting around this house for a week. So they went, and I hope like hell they- the girls- do have a good time. But the thought of the four of them off doing things together, like they're the fucking family now- did you just hear that? That was me. It's in my fucking blood, though, swear to Christ. My parents ran into Loretta and Paul in Kroger (shop there, hey?) a couple months ago, no problem, just gonna walk away, when Rachel comes up and joins them, and that went through my dad just like it would through me, and my mom had to drag him out of the store, shopping unfinished, because he was going for Paul- my dad unfortunately knows about the cheating thing, and he sure as hell did not hear it from me, you think I'd want to have THAT kind of conversation with THAT MAN, I mean, think about it, but you know, when you spread your shit around, it gets around, and sometimes back to people you'd rather it didn't- but let me tell you what, my dad's 74, and has had a lot of health problems the last couple of years, but he would have broken the mother fucker if he'd gotten to him, trust me. Broken him. Rachel said it shook Paul up so much he won't go back in Kroger, they shop at Wal-mart now when he's in cos they know my dad won't go in there. You got your fucking nerve, calling me a phony What's Bill drinking? Well, I couldn't find any fucking GASOLINE to throw on this fire, so I'm drinking Bud 40 oz., let you know by the end of the night what we got up to. Walked the straight and narrow for most of the beginning of this week and all it got me was still awake at 6:30 when the alarm went off- it's all very well for the fucking DF to say don't let shit bother you, but SHIT BOTHERS ME- and by the way, Joe, I may very well be getting evicted in the next couple weeks, because I'm a very slim hair away from killing that rat pack up on the hill- no, I don't mean Jack and Mary, but their horrid little dogs. They bark, sporadically, all fucking night, and my sleep is such a fragile fucking thing as it is now, when I do drift off, often as not I come awake to their pissy little yappings. This isn't just, he'll get over it Bill-speak, if I could've found Rachel's bat the other night I was right there, I swear. Found it the next day, it's now beside my bed, and some night soon, I fear . . . God, I hate them shitty little dogs, it's not even like Mary and Jack would fucking miss 'em, they don't do fuck all by 'em but feed 'em. If that. What's Bill listening to? Bought a Progressive Music magazine earlier in the week at Border's- one of the things I'll miss about working in Huntington is being able to stop there on my way home, best bookstore in the area for my money- oh, you're not working in Huntington anymore, Bill?- don't even FUCKING get me started on work, you know that old story about the camel and the straw, well I don't even need a straw right now, I just need to hear the word. "Straw." "SEE YA!" PM always have a CD inside, listening to the Shroom (oh dear) Records sampler. I'm not sure what the dividing criteria are between progressive and psychedelic and "space rock" as AI likes to call it, I know what mine are, but I don't know what the world's are, if any. To my ears this Shroom stuff is more psych- with a name like that, go figure- but I find all this stuff pretty relaxing. Not so much these "progressive" guys who wanna show you how they can play 900 notes a second- stick that shit up your ass, hot shot, lemme hear you play "Magic Bus"- cos it's just TOO frantic, you know. But none of that's on here. Still not very relaxed, though. Some of you may have seen on the news about the huge natural gas pipeline that blew last week. You know that bridge I talk about running to, that's about a mile and a half from here? The pipeline that blew was a half mile from there- and we're talking road miles, real distance a lot closer. Pretty fucking wild, we hear this HUGE, extended thunderish rumble about 11:30 that night, and then Rachel comes in screaming, "Daddy, the sky's all lit up." "Just lightning." "No, come look." So I go outside and look, and it's total creep out time, the sky is this pulsating orange, and bright enough to read by, I mean LUMINOUS, and there's this pulsing roar- my first thought was the Martians had finally caught up to my ass, I swear to God, I thought this was finally IT. Drove up there with Jack to check it out- not to gawk, I wanted to find out what it was, and was it coming this way. The paper said the flames were 1000 feet tall, and I don't think that was an exaggeration. Biggest damn fire I've ever seen. Drove through there today, first day the road's been opened, and it looks like someone dropped a bomb. Speaking of running, my knee has REALLY been hurting lately, particularly at night, helping to keep me awake, like I needed the help. Gonna keep running at least the rest of this season- it doesn't hurt when I run, only afterward. It's not that I'm so in love with running, I just hate to have to quit because I have to, not want to. Probably tearing it all to hell for nothing but hard headedness, 20 years from now when the doctor says, why do you have such a nasty arthritic knee, I can say, "Because, goddamnit . . . because." Went to see the movie Signs last week with the girls, Sarah liked it, Rachel loved it (it scared her, she fears aliens like I do ghosts), I thought it had its rare moments, but for the most part was pretentious as absolute fuck. It's by the same guy who was responsible for The Sixth Sense, (which I liked), so there you go- any time someone's first name is an initial, you're about 90% guaranteed pretension- when his middle name is Night, you automatically shoot up to 100%. See it if you want, I can't recommend it. Took the girls and Joe's son Gordon to COSI in Columbus last Friday, had a very nice time. I'm going to tell you computer hounds this, though, if you get your directions to ANYWHERE off of the Internet you're a fucking dumb ass. The directions we got to COSI were horrible. Should have known we were in trouble when they had us doing doughnuts in Charleston before we ever even left town. Once we finally got there, used the piece of paper the obstructions, as Gordon very accurately called them, were on, to write down directions out of town on, gotten from the guy at the info desk. He looked at the stuff we'd gotten off the Internet and said he was amazed we were there at all, he'd lived in Columbus for 30 years and 2 of the exits we were supposed to take don't even fucking exist. Never fucking have. And in case you want to think he was full of shit, HIS directions got us exactly where we wanted to be. Mother fucking Internet, mother fucking computers. Hate 'em. I guess I can't say I never have any luck, though, cos I sure dodged a bullet Saturday night. Took Sarah up to see a friend of hers act in The Crucible, Rachel and I messed around for a while, got back here- I don't know, sometime after dark, but not real late- and there's a note on my front door from Staci. Yeah, that one. That child must have the spawning instincts of a salmon to find her way back out here after only having been here once, and at night, at that. Hadn't heard back from her about when exactly she'd be passing through, and to be perfectly honest, I'd totally fucking forgotten about her. Been a mess if she'd shown up with Rachel here, because I truly don't think I'd have had it in me to send her away. "Rachel, you need to go out and play, now." "But it's dark, and there's no one-" "I don't care, you have to go outside RIGHT NOW." God bless it, though, how fucked up is your life when you consider yourself lucky cos you weren't home when a really hot 22 year old college girl stops by your house to fuck you. Great Big Hairy Faggot Tommy, aka El Atomico II, had a pretty cool experience Sunday. Neil Schon of Journey (and Santana, back in the day), was in the mall- Tommy works there- and they got to talking, Tommy recognized him and I think old Neil was flattered. Tom said Neil was cool as shit, just a damn friendly and down to earth guy, and after Tom got off work they went upstairs to the food court and Neil bought him a burger. Pretty neat, not just that Tom met a rock celeb, but that he was nice guy, my only experience along those lines was standing at a urinal next to Sting in his pre fame days and he was a fucking smart ass, "Say that again you fucking faggot and I'll pop your fucking goozle. Yer fucking goozle, man. Pop it." That would be me talking to him. He was scrawny, and his hair was dirty and he stank. Fucker. Sarah and I stopped by the training hall last Wednesday, first time either of us had been there in almost a year, hung out with the black belts for a while, very, very nice to hang with those- started to say guys, but there's some women there as well, so, those people- again, didn't realize how much I missed them, which turned out to be a lot. Actually saw Death Falcon Sean for the first time in a while, he's starting to come back around, he got hurt in a match in May 2001- karate, not wrestling- and couldn't work out for a while, and got kind of heavy, as in 290 heavy, when he really needs to run a tight 240 or so. We're going to start working out together again, looking forward to it, I'm gong to wear his shit out. DF Sean is good for my ego, too- he's 15 years younger than me, 3 inches taller, way bigger- no way as muscled, just heavier- a former Marine, a Shaolin black belt- and looks up to me as a bad ass. As well he fucking should. To all of you concerned about my well being after seeing the photographs from last time, I appreciate it- I'm being serious here- and I'm fine. Or at least, no worse off than I was to start with. I was sick to my stomach all day that Sunday, I'm not sure if it was from losing so much blood (those photos don't even do justice, that shit was EVERYWHERE) or from swallowing so much of it. It's gonna leave a scar, not a big Abdullah or Dusty Rhodes type scar, more like a dent with a slice in the middle of it. It's a start. Speaking of Abdullah, the Atlanta trip to see him is still on, it's just he's just NEVER THERE, I keep calling, "No, honey, he's rasslin' this weekend, he won' be here,". Dear God. 63 years old, 700 (conservative) pounds, still rasslin' most every fucking weekend. My fucking hero. Can you picture an Abdullah VS Death Falcon match? Oh my god. The Death Falcon is absolutely chuffed (that's good) over all the fan mail, to sort of reply to it, as for my entire body seizing up like a giant toe cramp, Chris, it already does, big guy, almost every fucking night, I call it sleeping, as for running for political office, Doug, intriguing idea, Governor Death Falcon, I like it, as for brutal, Kat, that's my middle name, R. Brutal Bitner, think THAT will get me into the movies?, as for the 3 or 4 of you who said I'm an idiot and an asshole, yeah, so what's your fucking point, I said, WHAT'S YOUR FUCKING POINT?, for the 3 or 4 of you wanting to bear the Death Falcon's eggs, once again, send photos, (of YOURSELVES, dammit, I've got plenty of Tera Patrick, even if I hadn't already, dreamdipper is still sending me one every couple of days (?)), and lastly, to my little fan Ronnie G, I'm glad you set your buddies straight on who's the awesomer wrestler, and the idea of wearing a cape is not a bad one- except my opponent could use it to STRANGLE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME, jeez, kid, you trying to get me killed or what? Gonna try to include some Hermanos Sangre photos this time- goddamn, I love my scanner, thanks again, bud- hopefully they'll come through. As you can tell, the Hermanos are very proud of their driver's tans. And I've TOLD that fucking Death Falcon to quit flipping off every time someone takes his picture, it's getting old. He flipped me off. One thing you can always take for true Bill
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