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9/30/02 45 years, a million beers
Hey What's Bill been up to? NOT WORKING! I gotta find some way to get paid for this, cos it's suits my aptitude really well. Seriously, what did I do with most of my first week off? Slept. How damn dull, I know, but true. Still staying up late at night, cos that's what I do, but during the days . . . oh, man, how great. It wasn't that sick, hungover kind of sleep, cos I wasn't drinking, and it wasn't that, oh God I can't face this world right now depression kind of sleep, it was just . . . sleep. Peaceful, restful, beautiful sleep. I'd open up the windows and listen to the rain and feel that nice cool rain breeze blowing in, and start thinking- nice thoughts- and off I'd go. And if I'd wake up, and want to sleep some more- I could, and I would. What a fucking concept. Best sleep I've gotten in YEARS. During my waking hours I did manage to catch a few movies on the idiot box- The Story Of GI Joe, Stagecoach, Flying Leathernecks, The Quiet Man, Invisible Invaders, Once Upon A Time In The West (I'm telling you, solid old Hank Fonda makes a hell of a bad guy) . . . Did I say I'm enjoying my time off? Only day all week (during the week) I even left the house was Monday, went up to unemployment- the bastards up there are gonna make a fight of it, I fear, okay, I resigned, but without going into it here, with good fucking reason- Geraldine, I don't know how you got over on 'em darling, but more power to ya, they want a piece of me for some reason, them and the rest of the goddamn world, alright, pick a number and get in line, ya fucks, I got enough here for alla ya (the Death Falcon says hi, by the way). Also had lunch with Anne on Monday, as foreshadowed last issue, had a very nice lunch, actually, other than the fact that she's been living with this guy for about 4 years now, everything's still full steam ahead. She did say that she'd been dreaming of sleeping with me since the instant she first laid eyes on me, and that it would be the pinnacle of her existence on this planet (well, sure), so I felt a little better. Uh, she didn't actually SAY it, with like her mouth, or words or anything, it was more like with her eyes. All kidding aside, I've always liked Anne very much, those of you who know her I would think feel the same, very sweet girl, hell, she's nice to JOE for Christ's sake, and she said a lot of ego boosting things during the hour we spent together, so it certainly wasn't a waste of time by any means. She just won't be wearing my wrestling mask anytime soon And along THOSE lines, I got another invitation this week to visit Shepardstown, think I'm just gonna buckle and go up there for a weekend- or week, shit, I'm not working. If I end up an urban legend " . . . and they found his kidneys in a BUCKET", then so be it. Anne was telling me about Robin Machin, besides Kat, and Rosa, and Joe- Robin's the girl who loaned me the 12 string I played at Geneva's wedding- I'm not sure how many of you know her- but again, I'm not always sure who ends up getting this- but Sue, the girl Robin lived with, man, at least 10 years, maybe more, hell, they owned a house together, tells Robin-guess when, how weird is this getting, summer 2000- she's outta there, again, just out of the damn blue. Robin was fucking crushed, just got her shit squared away and moved back to New Jersey last month, a real shame, Robin is a great person, she deserved better. Not wanting to turn this into soap opera central, but it's blowing my mind, all these people I know who were in these really long term relationships, that I thought were stable- what the shit do I know, obviously- that all went in the toilet the summer of 2000. Don't want to turn this into parent bitchola central either, but they're driving me out of my mind every time I stop by. M: Is this your glass? So then she looks at the damn thing, and looks at it, like fucking Peking Man just been handed a calculator and told to find the square root of Uranus . . . B: Why did you want to know if it was my glass? You know, I was actually very concerned, I mean they are both SO fucking spaced out anymore, gave them both the MMSE last Sunday, which is this simple test that's used to determine the severity of cognitive impairment . . . and they both got perfect 30's. What the fuck? They must just be straight fucking nuts is all I can figure. You think it's bad now, just wait- my sister Tina is moving back in with them this week. That is so motherfucking ungodly wrong on so many levels it would take me a week to get through them, but I'm telling you, it's a disaster waiting to happen. And if she- well, I'm gonna stop myself, because I don't really want to air family dirt here. But if she DOES, I'm gonna fucking kill her. And I figure GBHFT will help me. Stayed up till daylight the other night in my pristine music room, (drinking ice water, boys and girls) listening to old 45's (and EP 7's), sort of hungry when I finally went to bed- hell, it was breakfast time-didn't eat though, just went on to bed. Eating after- not during, that's always a mistake- a night of drinking has aft gone aglay on me. Remember one time in my previous life I had skipped eating dinner (even though I prepared it for the girls and their ma), went straight to my room and the beer, ready to crawl upstairs about 4 am or so, got that no food for a long time with lots of beer burn/churn going, so I figured I'd eat a couple of the baked potatoes left over from dinner- nice acid soak food. Got one out of the fridge, bite in- I eat 'em with the skin on- start going, Jesus, what's all this furry shit on this potato- and why is the inside GREEN?- oh well. Ate 2 of them, pretty nasty, but I was hungry. Day or so later Loretta's in there looking around, "I had a couple kiwi fruit in here for the fruit salad, you seen them?" "Uh . . . no." Try passing half-digested kiwi fruit peel- that'll wake you up first thing in the morning. Fire in the hole, indeed.
I went "Damn it!" and turned and pitched it as hard as I could- and straight in through the open window of this house we were passing. Some guy inside hollers "HEY!" and we took off lurching down the street, laughing so damn hard we were crying. I can just see that guy, down through the years, telling his favorite story- " . . . and there I sit, watching Carson, when from OUTTA NOWHERES, in through the winder comes flying this half eat cheeseburger, tooth marks on it and everthin', hit me right damn in the head. AND IT STILL HAD THE PAPER ON IT. No, I swear . . . " While we're on a humorous note, a joke, and to give credit, I got it from Joe. Pirate walks into a bar with a ship's wheel on his dick. Bartender goes, "Is that a ship's wheel on your dick?" Pirate goes, "Arrh, and it's driving me nuts." False alarm on the missing CDs- turns out the guy with the taste for classic rock was me. I started thinking, damn, all those missing CDs were ones I listened to in the car driving back and forth to Beckley, I knew they couldn't have all been stolen out of the car without me noticing- actually, as brain dead tired as I got doing that Beckley drive, they probably could have- got to looking around in my music room, found 'em all jammed into a Kroger bag, sort of between my desk and the file cabinet. Whew. Real glad that none of Sarah's friends took them, like I said, the ones she's had out here are all kids I like. Although one of them, Dusty, might not be allowed out for a while. Sarah told me he got in trouble last week when a teacher overheard him saying "happy as a pig in shit", Teach asked him where he heard such a vulgar expression (I thought that expression was ancient, myself, I certainly didn't invent it), he says "Sarah's dad." (Thanks). Later in the week the same teacher overheard him saying she was driving him "bugfuck crazy", same question, same answer, Dusty in detention, and his parents mad at me. God bless it. I told Sarah I don't ever remember saying either one of those things in front of Dusty, she said I didn't, but Dusty was here one evening after I'd taken a particularly agitating phone call from Satan, I said to Sarah, as I recall, I went outside to go into that rant, just so I wouldn't be overheard, she said Daddy, Samantha said something to me about it the Monday after- they live in the house with the horse ring, if you've ever been out here, she also goes to school with Sarah- she said you were drowning out their TV, scared the shit out of her mom, she almost called the police. Oh. No wonder they never come over to visit. Jesus, when I get pissed off I must just go to another world (Pissed Off World, I guess it'd be) because I sincerely had no idea in this world I was out there screaming loud enough to be heard here in the house, much less over the neighbor's TV. Kind of spooky, actually. While we're on the subject of Satan and pissed offness, she tells me Tuesday that my 3 pack of videos mentioned a few issues back were delivered to the house- and she sent them back. This being a man with no address of his own sucks donkey dicks- hell, Dusty'll be in trouble for saying that before it's over, you watch- but I don't have a mailbox out here, they just dump stuff for this address in my landlord's box, don't really want Jack delivering my personal shit to me like he does the phone bill, don't want it going to my mom and dad's, God forbid, which is what I use as my mailing address, the old Nitro address was the one this place I ordered from already had, didn't figure there'd be a problem with them going there, I still get mail out there all the time. I asked why the hell she sent them back (they come in your traditional plain brown wrapper, she recognized the address) she says, "You're not having your smut delivered to my house." This is the kind of high and mighty "New Loretta" horseshit that sends me into apoplectic paroxysms of screaming, mouth foaming mad dog rage in my front yard- not only did you used to watch 'em with me, I reminded her as calmly as I could, YOU USED TO BE IN THEM WITH ME. "That was a mistake." Click. Fucking hell. And, for all my neighbors- FUCKING HELL! Sarah, to mercifully change the subject, wants me to let everyone know they got their class GPA rankings a while ago, she's 6th out of 116 kids. That's my girl. I've said it before, but I'm gonna say it again, with all the shit those kids have had to endure this past year, the fact that they've still been able to hold it together at school and make the grades that they have- God love their little hearts. God knows I do. Sarah's also in her second week of Romeo and Juliet, not sure right now which performance this weekend I'll be at. If you're local and interested in joining me, check with me about Wednesday. As for the music room being pristine, got it all cleared out and cleaned up- it's a fairly small room, it only takes a couple nights of drinking and playing in there to trash the place- got some stuff up on the walls, it's looking good. Also rearranged my bedroom, got the rest of the book shelves up in it, also looks good, lots more room in there now, but I think I may have figured out why Ursie had it the way it was. The head of the bed was previously against the other side of the living room wall, right next to a heating vent, it's now against the front outside wall, next to the window. Like I said, tons more space, but one of the negatives about this place is it's not insulated worth a fuck, the electric bills in winter are absolutely brutal, and with the headboard against an outer wall, it's almost like sleeping outside, I can still feel the damn breeze with the windows closed- and it's just early fall. Shaved my beard, it was getting really itchy, the skin there gets really dry after a while, and especially this time of year. Been putting on this moisturizing lotion I got from this lady (Lourene, that's a nice massagey name) I used to get massages from- used to get them at HOME, okay, dammit, I'll quit- it was what she used for massage oil, it feels GREAT, smells good too, it was some special blend stuff she made up herself, I mentioned one time that I liked it, so she gave me some, how neat. She was very neat, herself, I'd still be going but she's not there anymore, don't know what happened. She used to work out of this house in South Charleston, have to say it felt kind of weird to be there just the two of us all alone in this house, and strip off and lay there naked (towel over the middle) while she gave me a full body massage. She was never anything but professional, however (dammit). I did catch her checking out my package whenever I was flipping over from my stomach to my back, but what the hell. The beard's growing back, the girls say I don't look like Daddy without it (as for the Stone Cold thing, I had this shaved head/goatee look going when he was still bleaching his thinning shoulder length mop). My problem is that without the beard I look appallingly like my dad, and worse yet, even more like my granddad. Been eating well- grilled some cajun catfish the other night, with dirty rice and spinach/ mushroom salad, had plain yogurt with some fresh South Carolina peaches my parents brought back for dessert- good stuff, for real. Don't mind cooking at all when I've got the time, the girls are gonna eat good while I'm off work, you betcha. Got a new drink recipe for you to try. Four shots of bourbon- mine (and my protozoa Jason, and our bud Chris K) would be Wild Turkey, you can use Jack or George or whoever, but use something decent, 4 shots Grand Marnier- obviously, you want a fairly big glass for this- swirl that around, drop in 6 ice cubes, drink. Whoa. Excellent. What's that you say, there's no mixer, it's all spirits? Uhmm . . . the ice is the mixer, you big dummies. Seriously, this is a hell of a lot smoother that it sounds, and a couple-six of these will warm your tepid ass right up, trust me. You also want to know what's the absolute best hangover breakfast, bar none? Poached eggs, potato pancakes, creamed spinach. Serious. But you gotta order in or have someone else fix it for you, hungover cooking's the shits. Bloody Mary's with anchovy paste spread on melba toast is a fairly close second. A hundred Valium is third (and last, ha). Went over to Death Falcon Sean's last night (he's A Death Falcon, not THE Death Falcon, if you get me) to hang and watch wrestling videos with him and some of his buds. Asked if I needed to bring some beer, he said "no". Oh yes, I did too, they were all drinking MB Light, aka Welfare Light. Dear God. It's not really politic to tell your host you could go out back and let his dog piss in a can and it would be more palatable than what he's offering you, so I didn't, but it was a close thing. Anyway, it turned out cool, only drank a couple with the "I'm driving" thing, so it was probably for the best. Had a good time, DFS has got some loopy friends (like I don't, I know), my favorite was his next door neighbor, Tony, this blond brush cut, bucky beaver front teefered Gary Busey look/soundalike who had me in stitches all night. He's not a big guy at all, but he wants to be a wrestler, "The Redneck Barbarian", dear God, he's a riot. DFS is all worked up about wrestling again now that his leg (and neck) are better, he knows the guy who actually runs this pissant Nitro league, used to, uhm- know- his sister, in fact, he thinks he can get us in, go for it, we'll see, but at the same time, I'm not holding my damn breath. It WOULD be great to wrestle regular, and close, though, where all my wonderful fans like little Ronnie G (and maybe some more big fans like Staci M) can come see me. Sean looks at me with a straight face and goes, "But you can't be doing any more crazy shit." Sure, Sean . . . sure. Think Sarah and I are gonna get back into karate, go with Sean to the class he teaches in Danville- don't want to go back to the Cross Lanes training hall, again for reasons don't really want to go into- he said we could ride down with him, so- looks like a winner. Got in about 23 hours of writing this week, mostly late at night, not the 40 I was talking, but a damn sight more than I've gotten done in a week in years, and a pre-courser for even better weeks to come, some of you who got "Drains" chapter 1 have let me know what you thought, thanks, those of you who haven't said anything yet, please do, even if you didn't like it, let me know what you thought of it. Schedule for this week? The girls come home tomorrow (you have no idea how much it sucks to have your kids live somewhere else half the time, makes me yard screaming MAD, I swear it does) so I don't see any day time sleeping, gonna stay up after I take them to school, going to Huntington on Wednesday, going fishing probably Thursday, gonna take my dad with me- I know, "Two Men Drown One Another" next day in the Gazette, but I also know part of why he's so pissy is he's bored, and my mom can jibba jabba numbfuck your ass into drooling idiocy in an afternoon, so- we're going fishing. No scans this time, Joe'll just have to put some good shit on the website. Maybe next issue will be more exciting, I can come back from Shepardstown with fuck and tell tales of debauchery- I'm gonna feel like a mortal idiot (well, nothing new there) if this kid becomes the next Mrs. Bitner, and I've gone on at length about . . . oh well. That thing that you're hearing is only the sound Or me. Later, gators. Bill
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The
percentage you're paying is too high priced 
Another time, while I was at Marshall, my room mate, dear sweet (and
very gay, but not effeminate) Steve, wanted to walk down to the BBF (a
70's thing) and get something to eat, but was afraid to go alone since
he was already getting these veiled "better not let us catch your
fag ass out alone" threats- well, I guess they weren't so veiled,
there's a whole 'nother story we could go into here, those chickenshits,
all six big men of them, eventually caught up with a lone Steve and beat
his ass into the hospital and numerous facial repairing surgeries, and
it's where I first got into the whole ultraviolence/payback thing,
that's both eyes, both arms and legs, your nuts, your liver and your
fucking spleen, for an eye, and where I first learned to use a chain
link fence as a cheese/chickenshit's face grater- put your WEIGHT into
it, and just slide him down it- anyway, I went along as escort, beered
to the max, Steve bought me a cheeseburger for walking him down there
even though I didn't want it, started eating it anyway on the walk back,
but it was terrible, chewy as shit, and waxy, could hardly get it down-
you can probably see this coming- got almost back to campus, there on
4th Avenue, when Steve looks at me, then almost falls down laughing. I
was eating it with the damn wrapper still on it.