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9/25/09 DFZ VIP
When I'm on the bottle I don't know what to do Hey I choose hammer. And I need more computer help next time someone wants to stop out here. Another Scarefest is in the books, let's start there. Finish there, too . . . Thursday- Brian and Ashley picked me around 11:30 am (they were all afire to get there, ALL AFIRE I say, holy Christ, it's just fucking Scarefest) which we did about 2:00 pm. Brian is Brian, a goof and bully (he was still going on about this guy he beat up in a cage match in TN, I saw the match when I was at his house in Summersville, like I told him then, and again in the car, it's REAL FUCKING EASY to beat up some guy who thinks it's a work), the shame is he can be a very personable, surprisingly bright guy- the only Brian I'll have anything to do with, as he's well aware- when he's not being a violent and immature dick. Ashley's pleasant enough but even more vacuous than last year. She's a big fan of both DFZ and author Bill so I don't really like to slam her, but she's also still on tons of meds and as likely to drift off in the middle of one of her already vague ramblings as not. We check in, same as last year, Ramada, nice relaxed place, like it a lot. Too early for happy hour so we go to lunch at Applebee's (three giant draft Heinekens for Bill, best they had on tap), then hit the book stores- Border's, Bill got Filmfax and Videoscope mags, then Half Price Books, Bill got Shadows Over Baker Street (Sherlock Holmes Vs. Cthulhu, $17.95 for $4.98- SSSLB) and The Chaos Engine Trilogy, $15.95 for $4.98, then Joseph Somebody's, fancy ass place we hit last year, very disappointing, last year they had this big Hard Case Crime and graphic novel cut-out table, I was all about getting back into it, this year nada, so I bought nothing there. Back to the room, bought a 12 of Heineken since I was already on it, plus it was the best the little convenience store there by the motel had. Drank most of them while reading my magazines, and went to bed. Friday- woke up sort of hungry- no food on Thursday, if you don't count beer as food- so I decided to hit the (included in your room price) breakfast buffet and go for fucking broke. And a good decision it turned out to be. Filled up one big plate with nothing but scrambled eggs, great huge pile, then stacked 12 pieces of bacon on top of it. Got a big bowl of fruit salad, another of Cheerios with skim milk, two cartons of blueberry yogurt, a cup of cranberry juice (refilled twice) and a cup of coffee (refilled once and taken back to the room). I sat there for an hour by myself (Brian and Ashley still in bed and zonked) just chilling and eating- and eating, and eating- and it was just CRAZY relaxing, not having to worry about anyone but Bill. Loved it. Scarefest didn't let their VIPs in till 4 pm (the rabble got in at 6), so I sat out on the Ramada back patio (what Brian came to call "Bill's office") and read for a while, then got my suit on and swam and sunned for about an hour, then went to the little gym they had there and worked out some, got a shower and it was time to hit Scarefest 2009. Much bigger than last year- Jeff said they ended up having over 12,000 paid attendance over the weekend, that's a HELL of a lot, too much in fact if you ask me, but then again that money's not going into my pocket- and held in a diffferent, much bigger room, and with much more emphasis on that fucking Real Ghostbusters crazy ass bullshit and not enough on horror movies. This showed in the crowd, gone were most of the hotties walking around in their goth/vampire/Valkyrie (God I was hoping to see that one again) regalia, instead you've got all these cross-eyed mopes and their thick ass bitches going "There's a ghost! Right there! I saw it!" Fucking hell. Wandered around for about an hour and as far as I was concerned, other than checking in every now and then on my booth- oh yeah, Jeff, in his infinite goodness gave me a DFZ booth to sell my books, AND a guy to run it so I didn't have to- again, this is all GAVE, as in no cost to Bill, you're the fucking best Jeff, serious- I was pretty much done with Scarefest. Part of it was I was already feeling very detached for some reason, and as noted earlier, I'm not into that real ghostbusters shit at all, not even a tiny bit. I got your real fucking ghostbuster right behind this zipper. I did stop in and say hey to Candy at her booth, she was wearing a red wig this year and I'd be a liar if I didn't say I got a little frisson when I first saw her- she looked GREAT in her little short skirt and boots- not as great as a certain former Falconette- (NO SHIT. SHE SET THE FUCKING BAR) -but still great. Bill: Hey. Looking at me closer. C: Okay . . . oh HI! Oh my gosh! How are you? (WHY DO PEOPLE EVEN TALK TO YOU?) Hey, it got a smile out of her. We talked for about ten minutes- nice, but going nowhere, which was fine- and I moved on. Brian had given me his car keys cos he and Ashley were supposed to hook up with Cornette and his wife later that night there at the Hyatt that's hooked to Rupp Arena and spend the night- Bill: When am I going to get to meet Cornette? - prophetic words indeed, so I went back to that bar under Rupp where I spent so much time last year to drink a few and then head out. Cos again, seriously, I'm more into being by myself right now than anything else. I walk in, the place is empty- it was last year as well, until it got late, like after 10 pm- except for this (bleached, not that I give a shit) blond sitting at the bar with this HUGE, invisible but still there, PICK ME UP sign hanging around her neck. I could see it, anyway. Not what I'm there for. Honest to God. I'm just gonna pound a couple-six beers and head back to the homestead. I order a Honker (a great, GREAT beer, wish we could get it around here) and go sit at a table. Blondie all by herself keeps throwing me looks whenever I raise my head from my bidness, so when my beer is done, which took like ninety seconds, and the bartender comes to my table- "You want another?" I tell him I'll get it myself at the bar. Which he obviously understands cos he smiles and goes "Well yeah." Honestly. No, HONESTLY. I really wasn't looking for it. But when it's right there . . . (IF GOD DIDN'T WANT THEM SHORN HE WOULDN'T HAVE MADE THEM SHEEP) I go to the bar and sit down next to blondie, aka Stephanie, buy her a beer- she was drinking Honker, so I'm already impressed- and I'm pretty damn sure all of you know how this story is going to end. Here are her (oh so) vital signs- age 24, Texan from El Paso, Army nurse, wants to eventually work at Walter Reed but right now they have her stuck doing recruiting which with her looks makes perfect sense to me- (SHE CERTAINLY HAD LITTLE BILL STANDING AT ATTENTION) - ha, Little Falcon as well, big boy. She lives about an hour away from Lexington and thought she'd come down and check Scarefest out but quickly got bored, yeah, me too. She's twice married, twice divorced, 36 D, tattoos on both her big firm tits (stars on the right one, some kind of heart looking thing on the left- I didn't ask), hard drinking, foul mouthed, also bright and well informed going by the comments she made regarding the stuff that was showing on CNN behind the bar (I know, what kind of bar plays CNN- a pretty good one, actually). If I'd put in a fucking ORDER, I couldn't have asked for better, and I say again, life is such a strange, strange thing. I think of all the many times when I've been damn near dying for someone like Stephanie and couldn't find her to save my life, then when I'm not looking . . . We stayed in the bar till about 9:30, Steph was a good conversationlist and I'm not being coy, I genuinely enjoyed sitting there drinking and talking with her, the bartenders- Dan and Nick?- maybe, or maybe it was Bert and Ernie, I really can't remember, were both cool guys, they were making up big jugs of stuff to sell as shots later when the crowds hit, gave Steph and I both free shots of Nuclear Waste (some green lime tasting stuff) and some red stuff I don't remember the name of, kind of sweet, around 9:30 Steph goes, "I probably shouldn't drink anymore, I have that long drive back home", uhm yeah, right, how about a three mile ride back to my room instead? "That'll work," she says, and work it did indeed. We went back to the room and tore it up. Tore it UP. She was a lot of fun, in a "slap my ass and pull my hair" kind of way- the banging her head into the mirror was my idea- and in Texas they apparently like their cornholin', and I'm not talking some idiot game you play with bean bags and a board. Went to hit that ass and damn near fell in, it was like, "whoa, who hit the garage door opener?" I acquitted myself wth honor, boys, sore groin and all, although the next morning my groin was fine compared to how sore my ass, legs- especially my quads- and lower back were. (THEM YOUNG GIRLS ARE GOING TO KILL YOU ONE DAY) God, I hope. And what was the name of the town an hour away where she lived? The too-perfect-to-be-true-but-I-swear-it-is Morehead, KY. As in- Bill: Where you live again? I pulled that TWICE and she bit both times. Well, she didn't actually bite . . . Saturday- get up, Stephanie didn't want any breakfast- (SHE WAS PROBABLY STILL FULL) -could very well have been, so I gave her a ride back to her car, nice kiss goodbye- S: If you're ever in Morehead look me up. Nice girl. Go back and have another huge breakfast identical to the one the day before, even down to counting out the twelve pieces of bacon- hey, it worked so well Friday I didn't want to change a thing. When I get back to the room Brian and Ashley are already there, their evening with Cornette and spouse didn't go too well, "Jimmy's in a mood," Brian says, "Well, fuck Jimmy," Bill says, more prophetic words, "if he's gonna be a dick I don't know if I even want to meet him." I go back out to my office and read for a couple hours, about noon Brian comes to get me to go to Scarefest, Ashley has taken to her bed for the day so it's just going to be the two of us. "Jimmy said he'd meet us there," he tells me. Get to Rupp, place is packed, check out my booth, sales of both DFZ and Monster going well (and if I go back next year I've got to bring posters of the DFZ cover, Pat, who was working my booth, another real nice guy, said he got a bunch of requests for them), Cornette is in the hall somewhere and is already raising hell, while looking for him Brian finds he's been a total shit to a couple video guys and a t-shirt vendor. Brian is back with me at my booth when here comes Cornette- I was surprised at his size, he's 6'1" easy- and just fucking lays into Brian, blaming him for all this shit, the bad breakfast he had, how he had to park so far away, how the t-shirt guy didn't give him a big enough star discount, how the one video guy was selling bootleg Midnight Express DVDs, none of which could in any way be construed as being Brian's fault. It was so over the top at first I thought it was a work, but no, Cornette was serious. What an ass. Then he looks at me standing there and goes: Cornette: And what the fuck are you doing standing there
listening in? Brian is standing there aghast, I'm already seeing the headlines, "DFZ Eviscerates Cornette at Scarefest", when Cornette looks at Brian, says, "I'm out of here", and stalks off. Brian: Well, that went about as bad as I'd expected. I'd like to add, Mr. James E Cornette was fired the very next Monday by TNA wrestling for- imagine this- his fucking incessant temper tantrums. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Dick. Brian's understandably brought down by all this, so I suggest a beer mght cheer him up- it would certainly cheer me up- so we go to- next year I've got to write down the name of this place- the bar there and have a beer. Then back to the motel for Ashley, the VIP dinner is on Saturday this year and I have no interest at all, Brian and Ashley don't either- fuck, man, no floaties- so we meet Frazier, Apex ref, and Adam, aka Jake Dalton, nice guy but shitty wrestler, DFZ took the Apex Heavyweight belt off him last August, who've driven down for the day, at- again- Applebee's. They both walk in all beat to shit, turns out they got in a fight with one another in Toys 'R Us. In there shopping for wrestling action figures they both saw the only Dr. Death figure at the same time. Adam keeps his pristine in the boxes while Frazier takes his out and plays with them, so before Adam could stop him Frazier snatched it up and tore the box so it would be of no use to Adam- who then punched Frazier in the face, and it was bell time, boys. Two grown men fist fighting in a toy store over a doll. (THAT'S FUCKING AMERICA, BUDDY) Yep. I decided to eat instead of drink- crazy, I know, and Brian nearly fell out of his chair- got the garlic grilled chicken, steamed potatoes, steamed broccoli. Good. Bought another twelve Heineken, read and drank in the room- didn't feel like hitting the strip clubs with Frazier and Adam for a number of reasons- and went to bed. Sunday- up for my third big (identical) breakfast in a row. Scarefest wrapping up today at six and I've spent little time there. I don't know if it was me, or it, or both, but I just couldn't get interested this year. Go work out about one, get a shower, it was just a beautiful early fall afternoon, made me miss Al's for some perverse reason, so I decide to sit out in my office and read and drink till about five when we need to go back to SF and get my books and bucks. Go by the bar cos I'm in the mood for draft, want to get a pitcher, there's no one there, or in the dining room behind it. There's also no one behind the front desk, and no one comes out when I call (they didn't have one of those little bells for me to ding). And when I look in the parking lot Brian's car is the only one in the entire lot, swear. "Guess we own this place now" is all I can figure. So I go in the bar and get myself a pitcher of Bud- I know, but at least it was better than last year's choices- and since they have liquor there as well, I pour myself a beer glass full of Wild Turkey. Man, that was one of the best afternoons ever. Like I said, the day was just gorgeous, sunny, cool, nice fall smelling breeze, I sat out in my office totally chill, for that brief period not a care in the fucking world, reading magazines and drinking my (substantial) whiskey and chasing it with beer. I'm many shitty things, but none of them are thief, so after I finished my drink I took the pitcher and glasses back into the bar- still empty- and walked around to the front desk and now there's a guy there, looks (but doesn't sound) like Newman from Seinfeld. Bill: I need to pay for some drink. He may have stuck it in his pocket for all I know, probably did in fact. I don't care, all I care about is that I paid for my drink. Go back to SF at five with a nice rosy buzz, Pat sold 41 books for me God love his heart, tried to tip him, he wouldn't take it, tried to buy him a beer, he doesn't drink. "Glad to do it," he says. Said he'd sat and read most of both books over the weekend and liked them very much so of course I had to give him signed- more like buzzboy scrawled- copies, which he did take. Forgot to mention earlier, hooked up with the guys from Apex Publishing, took some photos of DFZ and Apex head guy Jason with the Apex belt. The good news is they want to publish Drains. Bad news is they got no money, can't pay me an advance, earliest they could get it out is 2011. So we'll see. Also while waiting for Brian there at the end on Sunday (again in the bar), I already had my stuff in the car, he was- I don't know what, not ready to leave yet is all I remember- some of the real ghostbusters came in. I was gonna make fun of them but they turned out to be real nice- bought me a beer, fuck- Chuck and Jen, forty-ish couple, and their cute twenty-ish daughter Courtney. I started telling them some of the stuff that went on out at Harmon's Creek, Jen, who seemed to be head buster got all worked up, "That sounds more like demons than ghosts" she tells me, apparently that waking up feeling in danger/imminent peril is a very bad sign. "I don't think that place is safe to live in," she says. "Someone's going to die there." I didn't tell her (or you, till now) but someone already has. Someone committed suicide in my old bedroom bathroom six months ago or so. Yeah, creepy for real. Back to the motel for one last night, finishing off the Heineken, heart broken cos Brian bought a copy of Bobby Joe And The Outlaw with a young, topless Lynda Carter (find stills from that for the NL Joe if you can!) and it wouldn't play on his computer. Dang. DANG. Monday- up for yet one more huge breakfast- breakfast was all I ate down there the whole time save for that one meal at Applebee's and it seemed to work out quite well- left Lexington around 11:00 am and with each mile closer to "home" my relaxed state wanes, and I start feeling more and more the need to drink myself unconscious- which in fact I end up doing. But that's a story for another time, and NL, I'm out of here. And yeah, this is awful early in the day to be getting a NL- of late, anyway, used to be when I was living in that demon haunted house out Harmon's Creek I'd do them any time of day- but I got off at noon today and started this, and I don't trust this son of a bitching computer to save it. So . . . Later Bill
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"You must be either hammer or anvil" Goethe 
