Jabblog The Hutt

A WASHINGTON CHRONICLES SHORT STORY: Lose a job now? Ask me how...

2006-02-02T03:59:00.000-08:00

I know some of you have been waiting to read all about my adventures coming out to Washington and what horrid tales I have about the first couple of months out here, but I've been busy. I can't spoil it for you and tell you why I just barely got around to looking for a job, but this is a story to wet your beaks on. This is a story about my fist job in Washington since I moved here. Consider it a side note to the upcoming chapters in the WASHINGTON CHRONICLES.

A few people I know have been asking me lately, "Do you have a job yet?" "Where are you working?" "Do you like it?" and instead of answering all of the interested parties individually, I figured writing my little tale would be better. Here you go boys and girls, enjoy!

The Dark Tower

SO, I get this interview with this really swank company called Symetra (www.Symetra.com) through this temp agency who had seen my resume online. I had never gone trough a temp agency before, so this was a bit new/odd for me. They seem really excited to work with me and set this interview up for me immediately. They send me an e-mail telling me all the details about the position and the company, all which I print up. I had been in a Mr. Mom mode for the last couple of months and let my hair and beard grow in that time. Knowing this isn't the appearance that is shined upon at interviews, I get a haircut the evening before the interview and wake up extra early to shave that morning. I iron out my "Business" clothes, get dressed, grab my e-mail print out and fly out the door. I follow the directions to the building where I have the interview and they are fairly easy, the only thing was it just didn't seem right once I got there. The only reason I say this is because the building is this really huge glass building, and it is NICE! I'm talking Crystal Cathedral nice. As I mentioned earlier my hair is a little longer since the last time you laid your peepers on me and luckily I combed it real nice (like Clooney in "O Brother, where art thou...) plus I shaved off a beard I had grown for 2 months and looked fresh faced. I was dressed to the nines, even making it a point to put a couple of bandages over my Green Lantern ring tattoo, but still felt intimidated because, although I've worked for some nice companies in my time, this was the nicest building I'd ever been in. The address was a match though, so I pull into the garage.

Only my hair resembled anything in this pic

I start driving around the parking structure looking for a spot and notice they have free valet parking on the 8th floor! WTF?! I park my little rice burner and quickly shuffle off towards a nicer car in case someone I was meeting with might be arriving when I did. Not that I'm ashamed of my little car, but I am ashamed of the 30 days + of rain and dirt splatter on it. As I find my way to the elevators to the lobby I pass by the YMCA gym they have in the building!? This place had EVERYTHING! I swear to god if I walked around a bit more I would have stumbled into munchkin land! Again, I'm glad I shined myself up. When I get to the lobby that leads to another set of elevators they have these huge plasma screened t.v.'s that play weird psychedelic pictures instead of normal pictures of art. Amazing. I take the elevator to the 12th floor and when I get to the receptionist area I am blown away again. This area was HUGE! The decor was art deco with bleached wood, metal and glass structures everywhere. Aside from that the view looked out onto the city and you could see for miles! I seriously could have lived in that reception area and had plenty of room for all my furniture AND my dogs to run around.

They buzz the HR ladies for my interview and I'm a bit bummed because it turns out I have to do a interview with two ladies at the same time. I hate that shit because you have to talk to both of them and it makes you feel like you are watching a tennis math. I pretty much hate interviews anyway, 1) because I'm a t-shirt, shorts and sneakers guy ALWAYS, even in cold weather and when I have to dress up for work I feel like I'm in a costume I can't wait to get out of. No jive, most times after work I run to my car like Clark Kent, ripping off my shirt and tie so I can turn into Slackerman! I hate it. 2) I know I'm a charmer, but when it comes to interviews you have to asses the situation and be as full of shit as you possibly can. I like to consider myself a very "real" and honest person, but I know if I want to get the gig I have to play the part, and it sickens me. It makes me feel like the biggest sell out there is, but you'd never know because I'm just really good at it.

The ladies interviewing me are these two older ladies. One is in her 50's, and the other is in her mid 40's. They start off kind of low key and boring, but since I was in dynamic interview mode, they were chipper by the end of it and giggling up a storm. It was sickening the way these ladies were lapping up my bullshit. Sure, I'm a good worker and all, but I was laying it on pretty thick. I could have told them "Well ladies, The reason I left the last company I worked for was because they were all Werewolves and the night shift was a real drag! No really, Werewolves! You know, fangs, claws, the works! It got to be a pretty hostile environment becuase I wasn't even getting paid see. No, they would make me work these long hours and if I made a mistake or took too long on a project they would threaten to scratch or bite me, thus infecting me with their curse of the damned! What was I to do? I didn't want to become a Werewolf!? I did as they told me! It wasn't until some snot nosed mail clerk they had recently hired straight out of high school got pissed one day for getting written up, not to mention he didn't take kindly to the threat of being turned into a Werewolf, that he came back with a few guns loaded with silver bullets and began shooting up the joint! Luckily for me I was at Kinko's and when I got back the place was in shambles and the kid was peeling out of the parking structure. I ended up losing a weeks pay, considering HR was compiled of Werewolves and pretty much killed in the shoot up, but I'm a worker and I had to get back out there and find a job where I fit in better. Luckily for me I got this interview and here I am!"
"That is too bad mr. Barron! I can guarantee you that is NOT the kind of company we run here!"
"Very good, then this is where I want to be"
Back to reality - When they were done with my interview they told me they would let me know the following week what they decided, for they had other interviews to conduct, and walked me to the elevator to say goodbye.

When I got home my phone rings and it was the agency.
"Hello, is this Damon"
"yes it is?"
"Hi! This is Laura and I was calling to ask you if you would be interested in starting at Symetra next week?"
"Really? They said they had other interviews and they would let me know what they decided next week?"
"Yeah, well they LOVED you! I don't know what you told them, but they really really liked you?!"
"...oh, really. Uh, yeah, next week is great. Thanks!" (insert gagging shudder from guilt of being phoney here) I should have tried the Werewolves story...

So I show up for work on Wednesday of last week and again, I'm dressed for success and ready to meet my co-workers. Not forgetting that it is a new office job, I place a bandage around the tattoo on my finger and walk out of the elevator. I show up to the receptionist and let her know I am there for my first day with the company. She calls the oldest lady I had interviewed with and they walk me to my area. The office is so pristine and quite I felt like I was at some cult? I finally get to my cubicle and it is a very nice sized area. Enough for two people to hang out in comfortably. My new boss then walks me around to meet my department...and my heart sinks. I forget their names, but there were about 6 of them, and all OLD LADIES! Except for one broad who was about my age but looked like Laura Ingalls Wilder if she just got out of a methadone clinic. She even had the pig tails. What a real dove she was too, I felt so lucky that she was able to groan out a meager "hi" to me when I shook her hand. Although I think she only made that noise because she had to shift butt cheeks in her chair to reach my hand and probably shifted her hemmeroids around. I'd say the average age of the other ladies in that dept. was early 50's? Immediatly I thought to myself "oh no...what have I done! This is bad, this is going to be really really bad."

I smile and shake hands as I meet the new crew, but the odd part was, this was just a single department on one floor? There were other departments on the floor with us, but I only met the people in my dept (aside from the mail clerk and one IT guy) so where was everyone? AH! The IT guy! This guy was a gem. This was your stereo typical IT guy. He looked like Chris Katan (of Corky Romano and Mango fame) but only taller and skinnier, yet he was the koo koo crazy, funny IT guy! He was all about lame jokes with the old broads in my department. When it turned out someone had jacked the roller mouse from my area her asked if I used one of them before.
"I'm sorry? Used what?"
"A roller mouse"
"Oh. Yeah, I have one at home. They're pretty nice"
"So you like it?"
"uh...yeah, it's cool"
"hmm...lemme see what I can do about getting you a new one then" (insert cocky head nod here)
"uh...mmm, ok! Thanks"
(insert my uncomfortable eye contact with IT guy and quick gaze to the ceiling tiles here)
Turn and walk away Damon, it's just that easy, turn and walk away...
"Uh...you know what? I have to get some pens and stuff for my desk in the supply room. Thanks for setting up my system!"
"No problem, my names Steve. Just let me know if you need anything else, I'll hook ya up"
"Yeah, uh, thanks! Will do!"

I start my training after the big walk through and it is BORING! I seriously at one point was doing head dives at my desk. Some of the material I was dealing with was a bit outdated on their systems and i was already familiar with easier ways to do them. I didn't say anything about it though because I didn't want to come off as a know it all. I just acted like it was amazing info. It's near lunch time and my boss comes over and tells me, "Well how are you doing so far? Hope we aren't boring you! hahaha!"
"Um, no. No, I'm doing ok"
"Great. Well Damon, we are a very tight nit department here. About once a month or more we have a pot luck or go out to a nice restaurant and just hang out with each other. At lunch time a few of us eat in the break room or walk around the building for exercise. Your welcome to join us today if you'd like!"
"Oh, really. Well, I appreciate the offer. Thank you!"
"Ok"

Now the break room was awesome! It not only was the biggest break room I'd ever seen, but it had an ice cream machine and the coolest coffee machine ever! The machine had three sections full of diffent flavored beans on the top and once you picked the one you wanted it would grind up enough beans for your cup of coffee and make it fresh! This was all fine and dandy, but it wasn't enough to make me want to sit with people I barely met and have the most uncomfortable lunch ever! I'm also a big fan of eating at my desk and reading a book or some random website. This is what I ended up doing that day. I mean seriously, I don't know these people?! It was bad enough I kept having the lame conversation of "So where in California are you from?"
"Orange"
"Really? I have a niece in Whittier! Do you know where that is?"
"Um...yeah. It's a little bit outside of Orange"
"Do you know where Loma Linda is? She used to live out there"
"Yeah, that's not too close to Orange either..."
This went on for at least a half hour, with almost every lady there. It was similar to when people say stupid shit to Colored folk like, "I had a black neighbor when I was a kid! Her name was Jameeka Johnson! Know her?"
There was no way I could sit through that kind of agony on my first day. I was already feeling drained from hiding all the real torment I was feeling inside by laughing and engaging in horrible conversations with excitement and interest. I just wanted to eat my lunch. Alone. There would be plenty of time to hear about how CiCi and Benny Jr. were making sketti in the kitchen and wouldn't you know it! Those little rascals decided to make their own sketti sauce out of playdough, puppy kibbel and kool aid! Goodtimes to be had on another day indeed.

After lunch my boss comes over and tells me RH is going to help me set up my phones and show me a little about calls that come in. Her name wasn't really RH, it was Marcia, but I called her RH (not to her face, just in my head) because she was old and smelled like a RETIREMENT HOME! I've worked in a corporate office for over 10 years, and I pretty much know how voice-mail works, but they gave me a print out sheet to study regardless. Now RH was there to walk me through the steps. She waddles over and pulls up a chair.
"Hello, I guess I'm gonna show you how to set up your phone?"
"Ok...but I read the sheet and it seems like it's pretty self explanitory?"
"Well, would you like to try it by yourself then?"
"Sure!"
Beep, bop, boop, bleep, boop, beep, bleep. DONE!
"There, it's all set up"
"Oh...well...uh...I don't know what we going to do now? Hmm, I guess you can sit with me and watch me filter calls?"
"Ok" I say, but think to myself "FUCK! I HAVE TO SIT IN HER CUBICLE AND SMELL RETIREMENT HOME WHILE I STARE AT THE DANDRUFF ON BACK OF HER SWEATER AS SHE TALKS!? FUCK!"

3 calls. 3 motherfucking calls! I sat with her for about a half an hour and she only had 3 calls come in. One was a hang up. Who the fuck are these people? I tried to envision myself years from that moment, reflecting on this very day. Would I chuckle to myself thinking about how I was WAAY off the mark in my judgement? No, no I don't think I would. What I can tell you for sure is, if I think real hard I can drum up her phantom aroma and I start to miss my grandma.

Finally 4pm comes around and I say goodbye to everyone and make my way to my car. Once I get in my car I just shudder and drive home.

The next day I take the park and ride. Park and ride is like a shuttle that took me across the street from my office and only cost 75 cents to ride. I took this becasue Washington makes a mighty coin off parking garage rates. To park in the garage would cost me up to 70 dollars a month, even if I'm an employee. Park and ride is a better deal. Turns out it's also a pleasant ride and not filled with hooligans and hobo's, but instead, other corporate folks. On the way to the office I look at the tattoo on my finger and tell myself "fuck it! I'm not going to wear that damn bandage anymore" and put the cover up bandage back into my bag. Of all the carnies I work with, I doubt I would be the odd bird of the bunch because I had a fucking Green Lantern ring tattoo'd on my middle finger! They would never know about the other tattoo's covering my arms because I was dressed like a fucking ivy league student in court standing trial for that little mishap where he accidentally drugged that freshman girl and touched pee pee's with her! Silly college girls and their "no means no" banter!

It's a pleasant trip on the transit and I mozy into the office spreading "good mornings" around to my co-workers. The day is filled with more training and I get clearance to gain access to all the computer programs in the company. I start to train with another older lady in the department and she is also one of the lunch crew that eats in the break room. We train for a while and out of the blue as I was typing She asks, "So, what did you end up doing for lunch yesterday?"
"Wha? Oh, uh, I ate at my desk and looked up the park and ride schedule?"
"Hmm. Ok"
What the hell was that all about? I shrug it off and go back to the computer training I was doing. I notice out of the corner of my eye that she is staring at my finger. I expect her to comment on the tattoo, but she never says a word. She does make some minor small talk, but that's about it. Again, I let it go and proceed to work. When I'm finished I'm given a test on the policies I just learned about and ace it! Feeling pretty proud of myself I go back to my desk. My boss comes by my cube and tells me it's lunch time. Then it hits me? What the hell should I do?! Do I go into the lunch room today? One of the ladies already brought it up in an odd fashion today, so maybe I should just go eat with them?! It won't be so bad right? But didn't I see RH walk with them towards the break room? Who cares...I should just go eat with them. Like my good friend Wilford Brimley says, "it's the right thing to do." He also says, "I got the diabetes," but that doesn't apply to my dilemma.

So I'm eating my sandwich by myself at my desk and taking a drink of my juice (fuckit, I don't really know Wilford Brimley anyhow!) when I get an e-mail telling me I have to go have my picture taken for my security badge. I finish up my chips and when all the ladies get back from their little suare in the break room I tell them I have to get to the receptionist at some point in the day to get my badge made. They tell me ok, but I just had some minor filing I needed to help them with first. I'm directed to Crackhead Ingalls Wilders desk to retrieve some files and she barely acknowledges my presence. Great, ugly and rude, we'll get along just splendidly! Once I have the files I am given training on reading the policy forms and getting info in the system before they are set to be filed. Again, I had done most of this stuff before and making it act like I was just learning it was more work than it actually took to do it. This lasted till about 3pm, and then I went to have my badge photo taken.

I hate having my picture taken. I'm about as photogenic as a Poltergeist! Really, if a good picture is taken of me it's usually a rare occasion and most of the times it's from across the street. I wasn't very keen on having my mexican pie face on a badge I would have to wear around everyday either! The receptionist is in charge of all pictures and when I get there she grabs this digiatal camera and leads me to this empty cubicle with a blue backdrop in it. She sits me in front of the back drop and looks through the camera at me.
"Hmm...your glasses are giving off a glare? Could you tilt your head down a bit?"
"ok"
"Uh...that's good enough" CLICK!
She then walks me back to her area and tells me to wait a few mins. After about 15 minutes she is all chipper and hands me my badge. SONOFABITCH! The only thing good about the picture was that my hair looked fucking awesome in it! It was Dapper Dan-esque! Other than that I looked like I had old man jowls from moving my head down and then looking up due to the receptionist instruction, and it also appeared I had a lazy fucking eye becasue the glare from my glasses made it look weird! The only thing missing was a banner behind me saying "JERRY'S KIDS SAY 'THANKS A MILLION' TO IT'S SPONSORS" while I waved to the camera! I was pretty pissed.

I walk back to my desk and after searching on the intranet find out I can replace the badge if lost or stolen, but at a charge of $10. I was ready to blow hundreds of dollars for one decent bagde, trust me. For the rest of the hour I do a bit more computer work and filing before I call it another day. I say goodbye to the Golden Girls and make tracks for the transit center.

I'm almost home when I get a call on my cell phone.
"Hello, Damon?"
"Yes, this is him?"
"Hi. This is Laura"
"Oh, HI!"
"uh...Hello. Uh, I got a call from Symetra and they said they want to cancel your assignment?" "WHAT?! Are you kidding me?"
"No. They said it wasn't a good fit after all?"
"What are they talking about?! I passed all the tests and just got clearance for all the systems today? I even got my security badge with a crappy picture on it? And that was about an hour before the end of the day?!"
"I don't know, it's weird? That's just what they told us the reason was when they called? I'm really sorry?"
"I don't get it? Why did they make me a badge then? Why didn't they just say I could get it tomorrow and then let me go?"
"I don't know, but we are going to find something else for you Damon. I'm really sorry..."
"Well, ok. Thanks..." CLICK!

What a fucking kick to the chiclets! I was baffled and didn't know what to make of it? I didn't do anyting different than the day before...EXCEPT NOT COVER MY TATTOO'D FINGER?! No, that couldn't be it? No one even said anything? FUCK! THE SANDWICH! I didn't eat my sandwich with them for the second day in a row!? Are they that petty?! It couldn't be, that's just too bizarre? Or was it...

Consider yourself lucky you can't make out the full details of the badge!

The End

DJB

"Stay alive...I will find you!" - Last of the Mohicans...

2005-12-17T22:20:00.000-08:00

Hello Kids!

I just wanted to drop a little "how do you do" to all of you and let you know that I am well aware of the fact that it's been quite some time since I've posted some new jive here for you. I apologize, but this was all due to the fact that I was preparing for my big move to Washington. Well...I'M HERE NOW!!!

Actually, I've been here for about two months but that's a long story. Which is why I have this site. I started this blog site so I can document some of the bizzare shit that I've been privy to in my past and in the present. Well, I think this move has been up there with one of the most fucked up experiences I've ever had! So surreal in fact that it will have be broken down in chapters! So be patient my babies, I will write it up as soon as I can. Until then...

COMING SOON!: THE WASHINGTON CHRONICLES: Chapter 1 - Packing my shit...

DJB

A-hole in one...

2005-08-30T14:52:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I was told by my doctor to find ways to relax. I have a tendency to easily get stressed out and it was giving me hypertension, or so the good doctor claimed. When trying to find different ways to relax I tried many-o things, jogging, bike riding, acupuncture, smoking vast amounts of cigarettes (which was relaxing, but as I found out later, not good for hypertension. Who knew?), etc.

Acupuncture was actually the most interesting of them all. It’s not like they portray in movies when they basically make you look like a human pin cushion, no. Granted the acupuncturist was Asian, like in the movies, but it’s all very much like a visit to the doctor. They put me in this little room and had me lie down on your typical doctor’s office bench thingy. I was instructed to lay one leg flat and bend the other with my foot down. One of my arms was rested along side of me and the other arm was bent and rested on my chest. I guess there different poses and placements of needles for different ailments. Seeing as how I was there to prevent myself from grabbing a baby by the ankles and swinging them into an old person’s brittle hip, this was the position for stress. A couple of needles are placed in my brow, wrist, shin and arms. The needles are really thin with larger top half’s and rest in these little tubes that the acupuncturist taps, making the needle drop to the pressure point and sticking in your skin. This is all painless and the only feeling you really get from it is a bit of tension in the nerve at the pressure point the needle hits. After all needles were set the little Asian man tells me, “Ho’k meestah Ballon, you can go head and take a rittoe nap”
“Well, I’m not really tired?”
“Ritz ho’k, most peepoe rike to take a rittoe nap foll laxation”
“Um…ok”
“I go head and tuln off right fo you”
“yeah…ok”

He steps out of the office, all while facing me, then proceeds to hit the light switch and close the door almost all the way shut. The only thing missing was him saying “night, night” when he did all this. I stared at the ceiling for a while wondering how all this shit worked. Would I feel the relaxation instantly working? What exactly does instant relaxation feel like? What if it doesn’t’ work? I ponder all these questions and while thinking about all those things I take a long blink. As soon as my blink is over the acupuncturist opens the door and turns on the light.
“Ho’k meestah Ballon, did you sreep?”
“No, I just stared at the ceiling, thinking?”
“Hmm…and you didanot go to sreep?”
“Uh…no?”
“Ho’k. Rhye donta you seet up and I take out yo needo’s”

As I start to sit up I look at my watch and to my surprise I see that an hour as passed? What the fuck?! I was only lying down for a few minutes! Wasn’t I? Did I go to sleep? I guess I did? When I sit straight up I feel a little light headed, but not in an inebriated kind of way, but in the way you do when you just wake up from a nap. Sonofabitch?! I had fallen asleep and didn’t even notice it. The little Asian guy sees the look of surprise on my face and smiles as he pulls out the needles. When he was finished I stood up and felt…relaxed! It almost felt like I was walking on air! He gave me some herbal pills and told me to try and take it easy for the rest of the day. Seriously folks, on my way home I was caught in rush hour traffic and didn’t even give a shit! I felt so easy going I could have gotten in a big fiery wreck and not have known it. This lasted for a couple of days, and after that I went back to the same stressed routine. I was so bummed out that it didn’t last longer that I never went back because it was just a big tease.

My next big experiment in relaxation was golf. According to my doctor, golf was a nice way to get outdoors and relax. The only golfing I had done in the past was miniature golf and a semester of golf intro in P.E. senior year in high school. All that class consisted of was hitting little whiffle balls into rings set out in the football field. I didn’t even get to do that for very long because the teacher made the mistake of giving us real golf balls to try chipping into the rings. My ball ended up getting launched out of the football field and into a Jack in the Box parking lot across the street. Needless to say I spent the rest of the semester running laps around the school for an hour.

Golf sounded like a good time though so I decided to give it a go. The only problem was I had no clubs. My boss at the time was a golf fanatic! No joke, this guy had like 4 sets of clubs or some shit like that and always snuck out of the office to go to some golf shop where they had wall to wall golf shit! He would talk about golf clubs all the time and even spent most of the day on E-bay looking for golf club deals. Seeing as how he was so obsessed with the sport I knew he was the man to see about getting some clubs. I ask him if he could help me get a set without having to spend stacks of cash and a tear welled up in his eyes. Excitedly he tells me he would LOVE too and started mumbling about golf shit that I had no clue about. He tells me to give him $300 bucks and he would take care of the rest. About a week later he calls me to his cubicle and laid out in his work station is a set of clubs, a golf bag, a PING golf hat, a golf glove, golf balls, golf markers, club head covers, golf tees, and a few pieces of paper with diagrams and charts on them. I was taken aback a bit by the amount of crap he put together, but pretty stoked too…until he busted out the charts. Turns out the graphs and shit were a breakdown of how each club should perform. I feigned interest and then he pulls out this putter like it was fucking Excalibur or something. He explains it was a PING putter and a classic at that? It just looked like a putter to me, but I’ve heard from other people that it’s a really good putter so that goes to show you what little I know?

For the rest of the year we would go to the driving range on our lunch and I even played some courses a couple of times. It was kind of relaxing, but not fully. My hang up was all the old people that would be at the courses every time I went! These were your snobby retired old fuckers and I don’t think they liked young folk treading on their territory. It got to the point where all their sour puss’s took the fun out of smacking balls far into the driving range because every once in a while I’d get some old fucker telling me how to stand or how to swing the club. What did I care, I wasn’t out to go pro or anything, I just wanted to hit some balls and relax! NOOO! I had to have some bitter fucker get all riled up because I was shanking balls to the right and not making the proper “whack” noise when my club hit a ball?! I came close numerous times to treating some old bastards head like a piñata with my club. After a couple of years I hung up my clubs for good…until recently!

My mom and step-dad are retired and for a month or so during the summer they get my niece to stay with them and enjoy retired life. My mother is only in her mid 50’s, but my step-dad is in his 60’s and old school! When I was a kid I clashed with him all the time because he grew up in Arkansas and had this old southern logic to everything. He grew up with guns and other macho shit that didn’t really interest me. He played basketball and I played basketball so every once in a while we would play together. I attribute this to my reason for hating to play basketball with people now. He is a pretty competitive cat and knows everything about everything. Or so he would like to believe. Now that I am older I decided to let bygones be bygones and try to establish some sort of relationship with the old bugger. After all, he’s been around since I was a kid and I don’t foresee him going anywhere? Now that HE’S older he also is a bit more laxed and loves hanging out with my niece. The new form of entertainment and exercise in the house of retirement is golf, and now they have my niece hitting the links with them! They pretty much go every day during the week and sometimes on weekends. My step-dad found out I had some golf clubs and took that as a way to hang out with me on the links. He’d mentioned golfing with him a few times and although I didn’t really want to, I decided since he was making the gesture to hang out what harm would a round of golf do?

I make plans this last Friday to meet up with the golf trio for a round of morning golf. I have been having a pretty shitty, unlucky last couple of months and thought it would be a nice way to get outdoors and relax. As luck would have it, Friday was Africa hot and I had to have a wisdom tooth removed days before the big game. Luckily I had my vicodin…mmm. When I finally get to the house it’s about 10am and I could already feel the sweat beads on my back. I open the front door and step inside to see my step-dad (whose name is Jerry by the way) dressed in one of the worst white trash outfits I’ve ever seen. He’s wearing a pair of nylon P.E. style shorts with a t-shirt tucked into the waistband, white tube socks and sandals, shooting range style prescription glasses (with yellow tint to boot), a baby blue head band and a straw Mr. Howell style hat. It's a bit to take in and I turn to look at my mother and she just shrugs her shoulders in a “what can you do” motion. At this moment my niece comes booking out of the bedroom and I almost piss myself when I see her! She doesn’t have a care in the world as she prances in the room wearing hiking boots, short denim shorts, a Flash Dance style shirt, straw cowboy hat with a ribbon around it, and some tacky ass wrap around blue sunglasses. WHO THE HELL DRESSES A KID LIKE THAT?! The worst part about the outfit was that she has long hair and it was pulled into a pony tail that hung out the back of the hat making her look like hair stylist extraordinaire Jose Eber! Again I look to my mom for answers, but she has nothing. Like a kid ready to go to Disneyland, Jerry is happily getting the golf gear together in the trunk of his G-ride. I just shake my head in horror and get in the car. The day would be interesting indeed.

Can you guess which one isnt' Jose Eber?

Like I mentioned earlier, the day was hotter than a hemorrhoid on a fryer and I was not looking forward to being in the scorching heat all day! Since I’d just had a wisdom tooth taken out a few day earlier I was going to be on some druggins and didn’t know how they would play out when I was dehydrated. Then I remebered Jerry, ever so prepared, had packed some Gatorade. God bless him. We get to the range and I’m pretty stoked because there is an abundance of trees which makes plenty of shaded areas through out the course. We all get out of the car and my mom tells me “if you need to use the bathroom go ahead and do it now, Jerry takes forever to get the shit out of the car.” A bit puzzled I look over her shoulder and sure enough Jerry is delicately pulling all his gear out of the trunk and switching around clubs and stetting up his clubs cart. I do an about face and head off to the little golfers room. After shaking a monkey tail I head out to the driving range area and Jerry has set all of our clubs in our designated spots with a portion of practice balls set in the tray. I get placed in between Jerry and Jose’ Eber. I was a bit nervous considering I hadn’t played golf in a couple of years, where as Jerry and my niece play daily. Remembering all the little stances and positions you have to be in before hitting the ball I feel a bit nervous and take my first swing. WHACK! I MAKE CONTACT WITH THE BALL! Better yet, I launch it out into the range! I hit another ball, then another, and another! After this I am feeling pretty good about myself and look around with pride. I watch my niece pull out a driver from her mini set of clubs, which Jerry has purchased for her since he is hoping she will be the new Tiger Woods – or as my sister calls her “Pussy Gardens”, then she steps up to the ball and WHACK! She doesn’t hit shit. She takes another power swing and knocks the ball a couple of feet in front of her. I notice that when she gets her club in the air she turns her head back and doesn’t look at the ball when she finally swings at it…wildly.
“You should keep your eye on the ball. That’s why you’re missing it”
“I KNOOOW! I AM!”, she whines to me.

I watch her murder a couple more balls and then she starts making this little noise after every swing. “ow” she whines softly at first, but after a couple more swings the “ow’s” get a little louder. After we are all done hitting our balls she places her club in the bag and looking as if she was just shived in a prison riot says to no one in particular “oww, my back! My back hurts…” and lets out a mild sniffle. I give my mom another “what the fuck” look and she just rolls her eyes. Jerry seems to know this whole scenario too because he is making fast strides to the first hole on the course.
“What the hell is her problem? Her back wasn’t hurting earlier?”
“She always does that shit!” my mom informs me, “she’s just nervous”
“What the fuck is she nervous about?!”
“YOU!”
“Me?! What the hell did I do? Is it the ball thing? I didn’t even scold her; I was just observing and told her to keep her eye on the ball?”
“Yes but she has to do well or she throws a fit! She always does this crap when we go places though. I just ignore it now”
“Where do you go that her back almost breaks?”
“ANYWHERE! Disneyland, the mall, GOLFING! Anywhere!”
“Shit. That’s pretty annoying?”

As we wrap up our profound conversation Pussy Gardens walks past us with her golf bag over her shoulders and looks like Jesus carrying his cross, except she wasn’t bloody and whipped. I just smirk and my mom gives me a “DON’T” look.

At the first hole the order is Pussy Gardens, Me Mum, Me and Jerry. Pussy Gardens shuffles to the tee off and hits the ball poorly. As soon as she sees it’s a bad hit she succumbs to the terrible pain in her spine and lets out a weak “owww” as she walks to her golf bag. “IF YOUR BACK HURTS THAN DON’T PLAY! Just sit down!” my mom finally barks at her. For some reason this makes me giggle inside and I watch my niece sit down on a bench and cross her arms…while forced tears run down her cheeks. My mom hits a decent hit and her ball goes sailing, then it’s my turn. I get up to the tee, do my little positioning ritual and then smack the hell out of the ball. It’s a powerful hit and Jerry let’s out a little “niiice” while my mom follows it up with a “WOW! Good hit!” I’m pretty stoked at first…then I see my niece wince with terrible spinal injuries as everyone gives me kudos’. I whisper to my mom not to comment on my dope ass swings anymore because it was like a verbal spinal tap to Pussy Gardens.

Pussy sits out a couple more holes but we are all getting into the game. I wasn’t the best golfer out there, but I was holding my own and that was more than enough fun for me. The good thing about me and the old lady is neither of us is very competitive so we really didn’t give a shit about scoring. Jerry is competitive, but he decided to put away the score card and just have fun. Pussy must have seen that we really didn’t care who hit what and just wanted to play because she started watching us with amusement. That’s when the miracle on hole 4 happened. As we walk up to get ready to hit, Pussy Gardens rises from her bench, twists around from side to side and exclaims she could probably play now because she cracked her back! THANK YOU JESUS AND BABY JESUS!!! SHE WAS HEALED! With a touch of cockiness in her step she places her ball on the tee, takes her position and show’s the golf ball what happens when a miracle occurs! The ball goes flying fairly far and Jerry gives her the ole “Thata girl!” She prances off the green with satisfaction and starts off towards her ball, even though none of us have hit ours yet? We yell to her to wait and she runs out of the line of fire. From then on her back was fully healed and she was able to relax, kind of. The other thing about this kid is she gets hyper and she isn’t supposed to drink red drinks. For some reason the red dye is like crack to her and makes her SUPER hyper with a sprinkle of obnoxious. It’s a good thing Jerry packed some fruit punch Gatorade to drink in the jungle heat! I notice Pussy Gardens drinking from the Gatorade bottle like a pirate drinking from a whiskey jug and it makes me cringe. It was going to be on now.

The heat is dry, but it isn’t unbearable and I’m actually having a good time, so Pussy Gardens running around from hole to hole doesn’t work my nerves too bad. Jerry is actually pretty pleasant also and I was glad to have taken him up on his offer to golf. He didn’t play too well though and I finally pulled my mom aside to see what the deal was?
“I thought you said he plays everyday? He doesn’t seem so good for someone who plays all the time?”
“He usually does play good, but his back IS giving him some trouble so I’m sure that has something to do with it also”
“WHAT?! His back is messed up too! Just like Pussy Gardens back!”
“No, he really pulled his back out”
“Is this from his injury years ago?”
“YES!” She laughs.

See, this is why it was funny. Years ago Jerry had to go the hospital because he slipped in the tub when he was washing his gnads! I told my mom he must have wanted those things to shine if he was washing them so vigorously that he slipped in the tub!? It wasn’t until recently that he claimed he made that story up. I say BULLSHIT! If you make a story like that up you usually fess up to it within the day, a few days at the latest. If you try to say it was a joke years later though, you just trying to squash the story because everyone is laughing at you.

Near the middle of the course my game starts to hit a little snag and I’m shanking balls left and right. This seems to amuse Pussy Gardens. As I get ready to swing on the 11th hole I have a bit of sweat drip into my eye and smack the ball right into the fence next to me. I hear a cackle to my left and Pussy Gardens is laughing her ass off. “You like that huh?” I say, as I give her a bit of the fire eyes. I go to chip my ball onto the green and use too much power, over shooting the putting green by a foot. Again, Pussy Gardens is having the time of her life. When I finally get the ball in the hole I turn towards Pussy and collapse while holding my back yelling “ow, ow, ow, owww! My back hurts!” The weird part was I only heard two others besides myself laughing after that? Weird. We finish up all 18 holes and even though my shirt was soaking with sweat (due to my big hairy chest) it was good clean fun for the whole family and full of miracles! The two big ass vicodin pills didn’t hurt either. Golf turned out to be pretty damn relaxing after all? I knew the day was meant to be when I snapped this picture on the 18th hole. Good times.

NO DICKING AROUND ON THE 18th HOLE!

DJB

"The Greatest" love of all, a week-day review...

2005-07-13T12:14:00.000-07:00

I had seen this tasty morsel in the movie “Spanglish” and just had to make one of these tasty looking motherfuckers for myself. Luckily on the DVD part of the special features was a recipe on how to make “The Worlds Greatest Sandwich,” and here’s my review on it. Oh yeah, the movie is pretty good too, I just chose not to review it. Anywhore, read on.

FOOD-

“The Worlds Greatest Sandwich”

In the movie Adam Sandler makes this unbelievable looking sandwich and I swear to god if the damn thing had tits I would have married it on looks alone! It’s pretty much a glorified BLT, but I think a BLT costs around
$4-$5 in any given restaurant. When you buy all the ingredients for “The Worlds Greatest Sandwich” it comes out to be around $20! If they threw in a hand job or something with this then it would be a deal, but then satisfying my curiosity on how delicious this sandwich might actually be was well worth it. I don’t like to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty dope in the kitchen! Maybe its from all those years as a latch key kid in my youth, or just natural talent? I dunno, but I do know I can whip shit up like a Mexican Iron Chef! I’ve cooked for friends and family on numerous occasions and always leave them satisfied! If you hear different perhaps I fucked up their meals on purpose, the ungrateful bastards! Anyway, whipping up this sandwich was no challenge to me. If you’re not too good in the kitchen I’ll try and make the instructions as easy as possible for you.

Here are the ingredients you’ll need to buy if you choose to make this damn thing:

1 pack of thick sliced bacon (don’t be a cheap ass and buy generic regular bacon either! Trust me; the thick bacon is required for a reason)

1 loaf of rustic rye bread (you have a better chance of finding the Baby Jesus next to the virgin Mary Mexican candles than you do finding this bread in your average supermarket. I went with Ciabatta bread, it’s fancy and easier to find)

1 Fresh Tomato

1 Head of Fresh lettuce (Iceberg works nice, but I suppose other kinds work to?)

1 jar of mayonnaise (not that Miracle Whip shit!)

1 serving of sliced Monterey Jack cheese (Deli sliced is best)

1 Large or Jumbo egg (a small egg just won’t do)

Now I had been on a beer bender the night before and didn’t shake the hang over until well into the latter part of the day. Around 5pm I think? I wasn’t in the mood to drink beer 1) because I was hung over and the smell of beer would have made me puke on my shoes 2) I drank it all the night before. I only mention this because in the movie Monsieur Sandler pours himself a nice frosty pilsner of brewha to accompany the sandwich. The sandwich is supposed to be somewhat salty to the palette and the beer compliments the sandwich, or so they say in the movie. I found that Arnold Palmers were just as good as beer so I recommend those for all drunks and non-drinkers. (Arnold Palmers are a tall glass of half Iced Tea and half Lemonade. Frozen Lemonade or pulpy Lemonade is best)

Here are the steps to making “The Worlds Greatest Sandwich”:

Fry up the thick ass expensive bacon in a pan and set napkins to absorb the grease. Don’t over cook the bacon; let it be a bit meaty, but not raw! If you over cook it your just going to cut up the roof of your mouth and that doesn’t go good with Lemonade!

Take your bread and cut out two big slices (now remember, your are supposed to have a loaf! Don’t buy that pre-sliced lazy fucker bread!) I had Ciabatta bread so I just cut off 1/3 of the loaf, then sliced it down the middle. It worked fine and dandy that way.

Take the tomato and slice it into medium slices. You don’t want them too thick because, well…it’s just gross that way. Medium slices are perfect. Don’t argue with me.

Next take your head of lettuce and peel off some nice green leafs and rinse them off.

Now put the two pieces of sliced bread into a toaster over and let it toast until lightly browned. You don’t want to put this in a regular toaster because it will toast too much on both sides, and again, you’ll just end up cutting up the roof of your mouth when biting into this big ass sandwich! If you use a toaster oven it’ll toast the top of the bread, but only lightly toast the bottom, thus making the bread easier to eat and not as crunchy.

While the bread is toasting heat up a pan/griddle/skillet and put a small about of oil in it (I prefer olive oil, its muy tasty. Trust me). Move the warm oil around in the pan and crack one egg into it. Try and crack the egg so it doesn’t spread out like an octopus, you are going to put the egg in the sandwich with the yolk in the center and it’s not really supposed to be crunchy. The egg is supposed to be cooked over easy, but just barely. You don’t want to cook the yolk too much! If you aren’t so good with cooking eggs, here’s a good way to cook the top. Heat the oven to about 350 degrees and once the egg is cooked on the bottom pop the pan in the oven for a couple of mins until the runny top of the egg is no longer runny. DO NOT OVER COOK!

Take one piece of the toasted bread and place two slices of the jack cheese on it and pop in the toaster oven and toast until the cheese melts. This should only take a minute so keep your eye on it!

Once the bread and egg are ready place the bread on a plate and assemble your goods like so:

Place the bacon on top of the slice of bread with the cheese. It’s best to do this while the cheese is still warm and melted. This makes the bacon stick to the bread so it doesn’t fall out with the first bite.

After you put the bacon on the bread carefully place the egg on top of the bacon with the yolk at the center of the bread.

Now put the lettuce on top of the egg, followed by the slices of tomato on top of the lettuce. After this put some mayo on the remaining piece of bread and place on top of the sandwich.

The final step is to slice the sandwich down the middle so the yolk runs down the sandwich. This is a delicate process so don’t rush it!

Now take a couple of steps back and look at the sandwich with the satisfaction of knowing it was YOU who made such a pretty plate of food! Pour you drink and devour the little bastard!

Ain't she purty?!

I felt kind of bad eating my big ass sandwich because while I took my first bite I was watching Live 8 and felt guilty looking at starving, scrawny people while I sat home eating my gluttonous sammich! This was quickly resolved by changing the channel until I was done eating.

So, was it “The Worlds Greatest Sandwich”? I wouldn’t go that far! It really is just a souped up BLT, but don’t get me wrong it was THE GOODS! I don’t think I was hungry for the rest of the day after eating this monstrosity! I think it was more along the lines of “The O.C.’s Really Delicious Sandwich”! Try it for yourself though, we all have our own opinions!

“The Worlds Greatest Sandwich” - ***1/2 Stars (damn fine eating I’ll tell you what!)

Motherfucking delicious yo!

DJB

Hussein in the membrane...

2005-06-29T15:25:00.000-07:00

Seeing as how I now know how to post pictures I will share another quick tidbit in which my trusty camera phone and my ninja like skills came in handy.

A couple of weeks ago I was at my local Mexican take out joint (yes, I'm Mexican AND I eat Mexican food too! Weird huh?) After placing my order for taco's I take a seat and eagerly await my feast. Since I knew it would be a while I start to scan the joint and visually take in the clientel. The normal patrons were stuffing their faces with greasy Mexican food when one bastard in particular catches my eye! At first I thougt it was just my imagination, but after giving him the Buckwheat double take I realize it was him! As cocky as can be I see this fucker drinking and chatting away as free as can be and I feel my patriotic anger rise! I look around to see if anyone else see's what I see, but everyone seems oblivious to the mofo and this irritates me more. I decide that just telling this story wouldn't be enough and I would need proof! Luckily i had my camera phone so i pull it out of my pocket and flip it open. With stealth only taught to Shao Lin monks I slide closer to his table and while looking in my phone I act like I'm checking a missed call. I knew I had to be quick so I smoothly angle my phone towards him and take a quick photo. I turn away suddenly and like it was all planned ahead of time my order is ready. When I get out of my seat and run up to snatch my tastey morsels I notice he is looking at me and I get nervous! Did he see me? Surely he would retaliate before I left the restaurant with my photographic evidence? I do a quick power walk to my car and with cat like reflexes I start up the engine and drive away. On the way home I get out my phone to check the fruits of my labor. BULLSEYE! Given the situation, I was now staring at my reward! A nice picture of the Butcher of Baghdad! That's right! It was Saddam Hussein himself! Scarfing a burrito and not giving a shit about America or it's citizens! As long as he had plenty of fresh salsa and homemade tortilla chips, he could care less! Damn you Saddam, damn you to Hades!

DJB

When asking your friends for help comes to a grinding halt...

2005-06-27T16:54:00.000-07:00

Cars. Cars I could care less about because I don't see the use in them other than getting me where I need to go. To be honest, the only thing I really take note of in every car i've owned is the stereo. It's been my experience that you can't drive anywhere without music! I've had my stereo stolen a couple of times (another thing I hate about cars...and the fucking thieves who break into them) and if I don't have music to listen to, then I just sing the chorus of songs I can remember. And there aren't too many I remember so there's just a lot of humming and words I do remember thrown in at certain points. Earlier this year my car was broken into and not only did they take my stereo, but the compilation cd's I kept in the car? This pissed me off because I know I had good shit on these cd's and some fucker was probably at home listening to them thinking, "Man, this CD is pretty fucking good! I wonder what's on the other ones?.." I was so bored when driving to work that I would play the ringtones in my phone when I drove! Really. I eventually picked up a stereo that played MP3 cd's so I would only have to keep one CD in my car. It works like a gem.

Now I like some cars, but not enough to check out when new brands or styles come out. I recall a conversation I had with someone where they asked me "Damon, if you could have any car you wanted, what would you get?"
"I could have any car?
"Yes, anything"
"Hmm... I would get a Previa van! With a nice stereo!"
"WHAT?! A Previa van?! C'mon! Don't be stupid, what car would you want!"
"...I'm serious. I like Previa vans and I've always wanted one?"
"What ever..."
For some reason I like geeky cars. My current g-ride is a Honda hatchback and I had always wanted one since I was in High School, and my only desire to get this car was because it looks like the shuttle cars on "STAR TOURS" at Disneyland! When I finally got one I drove it to my mothers house and my older sister walked out, looked at it, then turned to me and said "Isn't that the car you wanted when you were in High School?" "YUP!" and that was the end of that conversation. I was so proud of it I called my girlfriend at the time and raved on about how I got a new car. She was excited about it until she came over to my apartment and I walked her down to the garage. "That's it?"
"Yup!"
"Oh...why did you get this kind? You could have bought an explorer or something?"
"I didn't want one of those, i like this. It looks like the Star Tours shuttle!"
"Hmm... I don't know if I want to ride with you in this?!" Which she tried to make sound like a joke but wasn't. I know this because I rarely drove us anywhere after that day. As long as the car doesn't have more colors than the Partridge Family bus or if it isn't covered in primer than I don't see the problem?

Seeing as how my interest in cars is non-existent, my knowledge about car up keep is just as equal. I don't know shit about cars! I don't even know how to change my oil. I had this Volkswagen square back when I was younger (and I did like that car) which was pretty cherried out, but one time I had to put oil in it and almost put it in the radiator because I didn't know where it went. I can change a tire and installed speakers one time, but other than that, I'm pretty useless... The only talent I've had with cars is driving myself or my friends home after a few drinks. I'm not advocating drunk driving in the least, I just know sometimes you just got to get home. I even try to kid myself when something goes wrong with my car. For some stupid reason I always find myself popping the hood and looking under it like the problem is going to wave at me and shout out "RIGHT HERE DAMON! I'M WHAT'S NOT WORKING RIGHT! WANT TO KNOW HOW TO FIX ME?" This is why I have a triple A card. I constantly have people ask me about what I do with my car because they all know I'm automotively retarded! "Damon, have you changed your oil lately?" "Dude, your tires look like they need air?" "Your alignment seems off?" and other little tidbits that keep me aware of the fact I'm a terrible car owner. I don't mean to be, and I really wish I could work on cars, but I also know I have a thing about getting filthy and having dirty hands. This is enough to let me know that I will never learn shit about cars other than who to call to fix them.

Last thursday was one of those random times where my lack of knowledge would fuck me in the ass so good that whenever I sat in a chair I'd be able to pick it up like a suction cup! For almost two years I've been car pooling with a co-worker that lives on the way to the Casa De Barron. I don't really mind, because as I said it's on my way home, but she is also cool and will kick in for gas or pick up a dinner tab. We also get to ride in the carpool lane so that gets me home pretty quick. Yesterday was the same routine after work. We chat it up on the freeway and as I pull off the exit of the freeway we get stuck at a red light before I can make a left turn. As we're talking I hear an odd sound and lift my finger to halt the conversation. I roll my window all the way down and listen... then I hear it. "FFFSHHH" can be heard loud and clear and I don't know if it's a sprinkler or a tire? "Can you hear that?" I ask my carpool buddy (who's name is Pepper). Pepper gets a inquisitive look on her face and from the change in her expression I know she finally hears it. "What is that? Is that your tire?" "I don't know? I guess we'll find out right now?" I say as I point to the green light. I start to pull forward and the car runs jerky while making a loud "WHUP WHUP WHUP" sound as my front tire rolls. "Well, I guess it is my tire?" I tell her and we drive on it a bit to get to a gas station that is on the corner. Luckily for us it didn't get flat on the freeway, and even luckier for her we were just across the street from where her husband was going to pick her up. I pull into a parking slot and get out to see what was up with my tire. What was up with my tire was this...it was bald and flat! The reason it was leaking air might have had something to do with the fact that the wires were sticking out of the smooth rubber where treads should be! It was at this time I cursed myself for not checking it, or even thinking to check it! Now I was in a parking lot and would have to call triple A when all I wanted to do was pick up a macho burrito and go home to watch Dance 360! Shit!

Pepper reminds me how lucky we are that the tire went flat somewhere where we were able to get out of traffic and I agree. I get my cell phone out and look in my wallet for my triple A card. As I finally pull it out of my wallet Pepper says something along the lines of "I hope it's not expired" and this instantly pulls my eyes to the expiration date on the card, which reads "EXP. 12/04"! FUCK! I tell her it says 12/04 but then remember that I have it on my credit card so they just deduct the renewal fee when it's time. As I dial the phone Pepper asks if I have everything under control, I tell her I do and she goes across the street to meet her husband, but not before letting me know I could call her if I have any problems. What an angel.

I get through to triple A and get some automated message giving me a list of options to choose from to assist me. I hate these fucking automated message because you always have to jump around a few menu's before you get where you want to go. I end up being on hold for over 10 mins before I get a live person to talk to. "Hello! Thank you calling triple A, how can I help you today?"
"Hi. I have a flat tire and was calling for some assistance"
"Ok, can you give me the card number please?"
"Sure" and I start reading off all the digits to her
"Ok sir, just give me a minute here...ok...and is this Damon?"
"Yes it is..."
"Ok...well, it looks like your accounts been canceled as of...as of March of this year?"
"HUH?! Are you sure? I didn't cancel it?"
"Yes sir it is canceled. It says her it is because of a credit card decline?"
"Declined?! Can you tell me the number?" I say as I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had a feeling I knew what the deal was and it SUCKED! She reads the number to me and it's not the number I had on my current credit card. No, the number she had was for the credit card that was stolen when some fuckers broke into my car and stole my messenger bag! When I canceled all my cards I had forgotten to call AAA and give them the new number! To be honest, I don't know who else I should have called? I hope I don't have to get fucked over to find out? I explain this deal to her and she's really nice about it. "Ok sir, no problem. If you like we can start it up again and then send a driver out to help you"
"Sure, that'd be great. Thank you"
"Ok, let me transfer you to that extension" SHIT! I would have to wait on the phone again!

I end up speaking to two other people before I get to the renewal guy, and by this times it's been over 45 mins! The guy seems pretty helpful and even though he tells me it's going to run me a smooth 60 bones to renew my membership I agree. He runs my card numbers sets me up and then says can you hold on a moment and the line gets quiet. I notice that there wasn't any music playing or anything like there was for the last 45 mins so I pull my phone away from my ear and look at the display. "CALL ENDED" is staring right back at me and I get livid! FUCK! I'm not sure if the call got dropped or if he hung up on me but I did know that i would have to wait another hour before I would get through to someone and I was starving, tired and just wanted to get home. Enter the Redman. The Redman, of "V the final battle and "Chuck"ing the ex-boyfriend fame", lives a few blocks away from the gas station I was at. After checking my car earlier I noticed I only had my spare tire, jack and NO CRANK! Since I didn't want to wait forever on the phone again and the Redman just lived a bit aways, I decided to call him to help me out. I dial him up on the old celophone and he's pretty chipper about doing me a solid and tells me to hold tight because the Redman was on his way. I only sat in my car for a couple of songs on the trusty MP3 stereo before the Redman pulls up. He gets out of the car with that cocky "Ok, the Redman's here to save the day" swagger he is so well known for and I notice he brought along little Ting-ting, who is chomping on a bag of candy... for a change. I pat her on the head and say hello, then I follow the Redman over to the flat tire where he is diligently studying the situation. After a few seconds of breaking down the situation he coolly tells me "Yup! That tire is flat!" He's just THAT good people! I just nod in agreement and the doctor goes to get his tools.

He tells me he'll handle it and starts to loosen the nuts on the rim. Now I knew how to change a tire, but he takes charge of the situation and I don't want to get in his way. He cranks up the car, pulls off the flat and puts on the spare within a few minutes. While he's doing this Ting-ting is telling me some story, but since her english isn't so clear to me and she's eating candy I just nod after every other sentence. By the time she's done chatting away the Redman stands up and he's done! I'm impressed because he had gunk all over his hands, yet didn't' complain about it and he was pretty quick. It feels nice to know you have friends you can count on is these situations and I thank him a few times. We go to a near by eatery to wash our hands and then we get ready to part ways. I give the spare a good look and notice something seemed off? but I just couldn't put my finger on it? "Is that spare ok?"
"YEAH! It's fine!"
"Really? doesn't look like it's a little low or something? Should I put some air in it?"
"Naw, your alright! That's how spare tires look!"
"Um, ok? If you say so?" I say feeling unsure. We shake hands and I promise him a round of beers on me for his help and I get in my car. I watch him pull out and feeling uneasy about the spare I decide I should just get home and get the new tire put on the next day. The shops were closed by this times and I didn't want to drive around town with that funky looking spare tire.

I decide the back way would be wisest since I was only going to cruise at about 10-15 miles per hour so I head up some residential street. The steering wheel is feeling really jerky and I still hear a noise like the tire is flat? I only get a few blocks away from where I was when I finally pull over to check on the spare tire and the noise it was making. I get out of the car and look at my nifty spare, no problem from what I can see? The tire looked fine and I even gave it a little squeeze and it seemed to have a decent amount of air? I give a little head scratch and finally walk back to the drivers seat before any of the neighborhood folks call the cops on the weird mexican guy and his little tired car. I start out towards home and get only a couple of blocks further before the noise starts to get louder? WHAT THE FUCK?! Now I'm starting to get annoyed, and worried? I pull over one more time and quickly look at the fucking tire again. NOTHING?! As soon as I get back behind the wheel I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach and figure I'd better just get home and forget about my Macho burrito, which pissed me off because I was starving and craving that damn thing! I turn left and by this time I'm only going about 10 miles an hour because the noise is embarrassingly loud and I could see people passing me with that "what the fuck is that noise" look on their faces. As I'm going down the street a new sound of grinding metal rings through the air and I feel my stomach drop with each inch my car rolls. I notice I'm driving right behind some friends of mines house and right when I pass it I hear "CREE-ANK!" and shoot my eyes forward as I feel the car jerk suddenly. In slow motion I see bolts shoot out into the air and while they travel upwards I notice my spare tire rolling down the street, yet I'm sitting still and my car isn't keeping up with the tire. "RRRRT!" is the sound my car makes as it grinds the rotor into the asphalt, stopping my car immediately. When I feel the grinding halt happen I am still staring forward watching my tire roll about a block and into the intersection. When it gets near the crosswalk it starts to wobble a bit and them WHAM! a car turns the corner and runs right over it! The lady driving the car just kind of casually looks out her side view mirror with an expression that says "Hmm, wonder what that was" and just keeps on driving? By this time I'm in a mix of shock and rage. I sat at the wheel just staring for about 3 mins before I'm snapped out of it by a voice yelling "DUUUDE?! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR TIRE BRO?!" I look to my left and see some crackhead looking guy on the sidewalk standing with his huge ass big gulp and looking right at me. "BRO! THAT LADY JUST RAN RIGHT OVER YOUR TIRE!" he informs me, because I obviously wasn't aware of this?! I grimace and finally step out of the car to look at where my tire used to be. There is a good foot of grinded asphalt behind the left front rotor, where the tire used to be, and the front of the car in leaning to the left. After staring at this for a few seconds I take a deep breath and look towards my spare tire, which is down the street. "WHAT HAPPENED BRO?" the crackhead shouts out.
"Well...IT LOOKS LIKE MY FUCKING TIRE JUST FLEW OFF MY FUCKING CAR! SHIT!"
"NO DOUBT BRO!" CH replies with and I just throw him a wincing stare. I can feel the heat and rage rise in my body as I stand motionless thinking about how I wanted to smash every fucking bone in the Redman's body. What the fuck did he do to my fucking tire! Not to mention my fucking car too! I start walking with furious strides toward my spare tire and the crackhead is walking along side of me. "How did your tire fall off like that bro? I was walking by and saw the thing just snap off and fly down the street! I don't think that bitch knew what hit her! She just ran over it and kept on going!"
"Fuck, I don't know?! My buddy just put that tire on my car a few minutes ago! NOW IT FUCKING FLEW OFF!!! SHIT!"
"Damn bro! I don't think he did a very good job!"
"..." I just throw him a look that should have knocked his skeleton out of his skin and keep on walking towards my car. At this point I honestly don't know what to do? I've only seen wheels fly off cars in movies? Not to mention my rotor? Was it broken? Did the axel snap? How much was this going to cost?! THAT FUCKING REDMAN! This all started with a simple flat tire and now it was some big fucking fiasco!

As I'm standing there in a haze of violent anger and bafflement cars are starting to drive around the right side of my car and the drivers are giving me looks like I was fucking up their days by having my car broken down in the middle of their lane. One old lady drives by and with shaky old lady voice asks, "Ddd-do you nnn-need some help?"
"No thanks, I'm alright"
"ooo-oh k!" and she drives off. I hadn't called anyone yet, but I was really just in shock to be honest. I still couldn't believe this just happened. On top of that, I was feeling like a huge asshole standing there in the middle of the street with people just driving by and staring. Some were annoyed, some were just being nosy, some laughed and some zoomed by like I was going to carjack them if they slowed down next to me. It was during this humiliation that I realized the reason I felt like such a huge asshole and pull out my cell phone. I look up the number and dial the Redman.
"Hey! So did you make it home?!"
"YOU MOTHERFUCKER! MY TIRE JUST FLEW OFF THE FRONT OF MY FUCKING CAR!!! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"
"WHA?! Haha, are you serious?!"
"YES I'M SERIOUS MOTHERFUCKER! AND WHAT'S SO FUCKING FUNNY?! I'M STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO MY CAR AND IT'S ON THE ROTOR! I FUCKING GRINDED THE ROTOR INTO THE FUCKING STREET!!!"
"OH SHIT! Ok, I'll be right there! Sorry about that?!"
"YEAH! YOU BETTER FUCKING GET HERE! I'VE HAD EVERY MOTHERFUCKER IN ORANGE STARING AT ME! HURRY UP!"
"OK! I'm on my way..." and then I hang up on him. I'm shaking with anger when I hear "Dude, here comes the CHP" and I realize that fucking crackhead is still standing right next to me?! Jesus! That's the problem with crackheads! They never have anywhere to go! The CHP car pulls in front of my car and this jarhead cocky cop get outs and walks towards me. This guy is the stereotypical dickhead cop, he has the jarhead haircut, the big dark aviator glasses, he's chewing a piece of gum the way a cow chomps grass and he has that swagger that starts off with him adjusting his utility belt as he walks. He doesn't say anything to me at first and just walks up to the front of my car, looks at the rotor and says, "so are you going to need to be towed or what?" "no, I have a friend coming down to help me get the tire on and move it." Now this was all that needed to be said, but my new bestest friend chimes in with "YEAH! His tire just flew right off bro! It rolled all the way down the street!" and the copper just gives him a "is that so" look. I look at the cop and just shrug my shoulders while trying to give a look that says "I don't know this fucker!" The cops grunts out a "uh huh" and tells me while chomping his gum, "Well, I'm just going to set down a couple of flares so people will drive around you. I'd stay and help you but I've got to be somewhere" then he walks off, grabs some flares from his trunk, throws them down behind my car and tears off down the street without saying a word? While I'm standing in the dust shot up by his car the crackhead turns to me and says, "Hey bro, you don't have a smoke do you?"
"No"
"Aw, that sucks. I bet you wish you had one now though huh?! HAHAHA!"
"Yeah, sure" Seriously? Who the fuck is this guy?!
"Anyway bro, I got to head out. Good luck with that! If my buddy did this shit I'd fucking kick his ass! haha!"
"Yeah, I intend to. Thank you" and I just turn my back to him as he walks off. I call the Redman again because quite some time has passed now and I'm about to lose it. I mean REALLY lose it. As the phone rings I walk up and down the street looking for my lugnuts. I find one and right when I pick it up he answers his phone.
"Hey, I'm on my way"
"Where the hell are you?!"
"I had to wait for Ewok to watch Ting ting. You know, a changing of the guards"
"WHY COULDN'T YOU HAVE BROUGHT HER WITH YOU?! I'VE BEEN STANDING OUT HERE WITH SOME FUCKING CRACKHEAD LOOKING LIKE A DUMB ASSHOLE!?"
"Calm down, I'm pulling up right behind you" he says casually as I turn and see him park behind my car.

He gets out of his car and walks over to the front left rotor of mine and shakes his head, "Oh man! I don't know what happened?"
"Oh, you don't?"
"Well obviously the wheel fell off. Y'know, I must have just finger tightened the lugnuts?"
"Are you kidding me?" I don't even feel pissed anymore, I just feel exhausted. Don't get me wrong! That last part pissed me off good, I just didn't have it in me to get raged anymore. Even though I was livid at this last remark, I didn't have the power of rage and hate on my side anymore. I had envisioned myself pummeling him with a flurry of punches when he got out of his cars, but it just kind of vanished and I just felt really tired.
"You just finger tightened them? Your joking? How could you not have tightened them the right way?"
"I don't' know?! I must have been distracted!"
"BY WHAT?!"
"Well, think about it this way, at least you weren't on the freeway! Then I'd feel even worse if you got killed"
(Insert long awkward angry stare here)
"Let's just get the fucking tire on and my car out of the street" I say flatly. What was amusing was while he was putting the tire on this time around he tried to get me all riled up about the cop who just ditched me. He was going on and on about what a asshole the guy was and how his tax dollars are just being wasted. I don't know if he really felt this way, or if he was just trying to take some of the heat off of himself? I think both actually. We finally get the tire on and I nervously climb into my car to drive it to the parking lot on the corner. I was nervous that the car wouldn't run or that the steering would be so whacked that I would only do more damage to it. Either way, I had to get it out of the street...along with myself. I was pretty sick of people driving by and looking at me. I think the clincher was when a car full of cute girls drove by and pointed and giggled as I stood there with greasy hands and a sweat "V" on my shirt. Curse them broads! Curse them to hell! The Redman follows me into the parking lot and when we both pull in she gets out and shouts to me, "Well? How'd it feel?" I just shrugged and told him it seemed alright, but I was still nervous about driving it and if he would follow me to apartment so I could at least park it there instead of leaving it in some parking lot. He agrees and we make the drive which is less than a mile from where we were. After I park my car in my slot the Redman tells me that we should get the other tire and then put it on. I agree and we get in the car and continue our quest to fuck up my car as much as we possibly could in one day.

Keep in mind that this whole situation started at 5:30pm and it was now past 7pm! We are sitting in the car on our way to Costco to get a new tire and almost the whole way there, even though we made idle chit chat, I just kept thinking "I can't believe that my fucking tire just rolled off of my car? Did this really happen? It's too bizarre to be real?" Sadly I know it's real, that's just the kind of luck I have. I'm not trying to sound all "whoa's me" about it, this is just fact! I'm the kind of person that could go camping for the first time ever in my life and get abducted and raped by hillbilly's, and that wouldn't even be the worst part! The worst part would be after I was found and nursed back to health they would break the news to me that while I was away in the mountains, my apartment burned down and everything I owned had perished in the fire! THAT'S how shitty my luck is. So during this reflection and pointless banter with the Redman I hear him blurt out, "man, this is the second time I've done this!"
"What?"
"This is the second time I've done this! Well, at least last time the tire didn't fall off, I found out before hand." After hearing this last statement it was like Gatorade for my anger and I start going off on my livid banter again.
"Boy, your really not going to ever let me forget about this are you?"
(insert angry stare here)

It takes over an hour to get the tire placed on my rim and I don't even want to get into the guy working the counter who looked like a chubby young Rick Moranis, but I will tell you this, he's about as bright as a blackout! Even the Redman wanted to pummel him! As we get back in the car we start to head back to my place when I remind him that we have to buy replacement lugnuts. "MAN! Your killing me here! How many errands do we have to run?!"
"I'm sorry, am I wasting your time? Perhaps you'll remember this next time you decide to finger tighten lugnuts and then let your buddy drive away!? Jesus! You got a lot of nerve man!"
"Alright, you got me! I think we can use some beers before we get back..." We finish getting everything we need and actually stop to get a beer at some crappy dive bar before we get down and dirty finishing up the fucking fiasco that had been dragged out for almost 5 hrs now.

When we finally get to my apartment we grab all our goods and head straight for my car. The Redman can't find the metal bars under the car that are used to support the jack and ends up using the front of the car. It worked before so I didn't see a problem with it? As the car is jacked up he takes off the spare and tells me, "we might as well see if the brake shoe is working alright? go step on the pedal..."
"Really? Ok" I say, forgetting that Mr. Goodwrench was the reason I was there in the first place. So I open the door, get in and tap the brake pedal a couple of times. He then tells me to "release the brake." Now this seemed like an odd request, but I didn't even think twice about it and pull the lever down. Within seconds I hear a loud "CREEEAK" and the car just rolls forward and slams down on the concrete! "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"YOU JUST FUCKING TOLD ME TO RELEASE THE BRAKE!!!"
"I JUST MEANT TO TAKE YOUR FOOT OFF THE PEDAL!"
"I DIDN'T HAVE MY FOOT ON THE PEDAL!"
It's at this point the Redman decides it's his turn to freak out and proceeds to do so by jumping around yelling "FUUUUUHCK!" When he's done we pull my jack out from under the car and it is just mangled. I don't say a word and just walk to the dumpster and throw it away in disgust. The Redman goes to his car to get his jack and starts the whole process over again. When the car is jacked up I start to close the door to the car when the Redman yells, "WAIT WAIT WAIT! It's not safe, it's not safe!" We both stand there silently frozen like we were playing freeze tag with the car when all of the sudden "creeEEEEAK!" BOOM! The fucking car falls again and tweaks the Redman's jack! I don't even have it in me to get pissed and let the Redman take care of it. "FUCK FUCK FUUUHCK! FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT JACK! FUCK!", he yells while running around in circles, "This is really starting to piss me off now!" I just smile at him with amusement and he sternly says, "Let's go to my parents house. My dad has a jack that can carry 3 tons!" "How come we didn't just use that before?"
"BECAUSE I DIDN'T KNOW THAT THE FUCKING JACKS WERE PIECES OF SHIT! WHAT?! IS YOUR CARPORT AT AN INCLINE OR SOMETHING?!"
"It doesn't really matter when the parking brake is off does it"
(Insert the Redman's angry stare here)

We go to his parents house and grab the hydraulic jack. Luckily his parents only lived down the street from where I lived. Actually, his parent lived a couple of blocks from where my tire had flown off the car and came to a grinding halt. As we pass by the scene of the crime I say in a tired burnt out tone "It was just hours ago that my tire flew off right there (as I point to the spot) and I wanted to kill you"
"C'mon! Later on we're going to tell this story and it's going to be hilarious!"
"Oh yeah? Then how come it's now a tad bit funny now?"
"Boy, you like to think of the negative!" and at this point he pulls up to his parents house. I look at my watch and it's 10:45pm. This was the longest night EVER! And it all started with a simple flat tire and my lack of patience for automated service from AAA!

After driving back to my carport and spending a good 10-15 mins trying to figure out how the hydraulic jack worked we get the tire on in no time! Seriously, it took less time than it did to figure out how to use the jack! A wave of accomplishment and relief passes through both of us and we can't help but be all smiles. There was one thing though? Would it be drivable? We decide to drive around a few secluded neighborhood blocks and try it out. It was a little sketchy considering the back tires technically only had three bolts because we put four old bolts up front and each back tire had one new lugnut in it. The problem with the new nuts was they were too long to fit in the wrench. Nervously I pull out of the carport and down the street and we don't' say a word for a couple of blocks, we both just sit with looks of concentration on our faces as we listen for odd noises. Nothing. We drive a little fast up this long stretch of road and still nothing. The brakes seem to be working just fine and the rotor seems to be working as good as before, plus there are no funky noises coming from it. I gas it up and do about 50 down this stretch of road, then I apply the brakes, easy at first then harder. Nothing, we stop just fine. I feel a little relief and the Redman says, "are we going to go on the freeway?"
"NO! The new bolts aren't even on tight! I'm not fucking with that shit tonight! I'll get them tightened in the morning before I drive to work"
"Ok, I was just asking."

We pull back into the parking spot and it's almost 11:30 and we are both greasy, sweaty and our clothes look like we were running around in boot camp. I wanted to take a long hot shower and go to bed and the Redman looked like he wanted to do the same. I would get to sleep in late because I had to take my car to the shop (which I did and everything seems to be A-ok with my g-ride! I got VERY lucky! Or so I think, the tire could fall off as I go over an overpass that turns left and skid over the edge.) I help the Redman gather up his tools and load them into his car.
"Sorry about your tire, but hey! It all worked out alright! I knew it would!"
"Yeah, hopefully they don't tell me some expensive shit about my car tomorrow! I've already spent over 100 bucks for a simple flat! But thanks for almost killing me and helping me try and fix what you fucked up..."
"Ha! No problem! I look forward to reading about this on your blog site! It'll be a good one!"
"Fuck you!"

DJB

When the Sith hits the fan, I see III PO'd!...

2005-06-23T15:48:00.000-07:00

Before I get to the nitty gritty about what I thought about Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, I think I should share with you a tale that may or may not have impacted my viewing pleasure.

When first I heard that Episode III was trucking right along in the entertainment rags I was less than enthusiastic. Truth be told, I thought Episode I was an alright movie and I just plain out loathed Episode II (except for the lightsaber duels, any Star Wars geek loves lightsaber duels. If movies like Ishtar, Shanghai Surprise and anything starring actors from The WB and UPN had lightsaber duels they’d probably have more credibility to them). I am an old school SW fan, which is why I can refer to Star Wars as SW – so don’t think you can do it too, and grew up on the old films. The only reason I probably tolerated Episode I is because I waited over two decades for it to come out. It could have been two hours of Yoda taking a shit and swatting gnats with his lightsaber and I would have paid to see it over and over again, gladly at that! But there was just no excuse for Ep. II! That was just flat out bullshit and except for about 2 people I know, everyone seems to be in agreement. After years of less than stellar follow-ups to the classics I had lost my steam when it came to waiting for the final installment of the prequel trilogies. Luckily Lord of the Rings came out and showed me that I hadn’t grown old and jaded, allowing that to be the reason I hated the SW prequels. LOTR (as us geeks refer to it) restored some of the child like awe I remember having when I sat in the theater as a kid watching the SW movies of my youth. That was how movies should have been made, and Lucas should have taken notes!

To us nerds, Episode III’s plot was like The Passion of the Christ and Titanic. We knew how it was going to end, and we even knew some of the plot details. The only thing we didn’t know was how George Lucas was going to fuck it up. Like I’ve already stated, we had Ep. I & II to give us a pretty good idea. Every now and then I would catch an article or photo on how the plot was coming along or what the characters were going to look like this time around. Some of it peaked my interest, but not enough to make me excited for its big release. For over a year there seemed to be a serious buzz about how great this movie was going to be and I just couldn’t understand it? Were people starting to forget about the other films? Were all the underground internet film rags on the Lucas payroll? What was everyone talking about? Sure some of the ships and aliens looked cool, but shit rolled in sugar may look sweet, that doesn’t mean its candy now does it? Big deal, Chewbacca was going to be in this one! Ooh, Vader makes an appearance! Big deal! This movie was going to stink worse than a bag lady's moose knuckle! It HAD to! Then I saw the much awaited teaser trailer…

When I heard it was going to be online I scoffed and avoided it, then I heard it was going to be on t.v. and I finally caved in. I had to confirm how shitty it was going to be for myself. It was only going to be a two minute trailer and I would to have to endure an hour of the O.C. before I could even see it, but I just had to know. Finally the day comes and I take my O.C. lumps when the big announcement that the trailer was up next fills my ears. I sit forward and watch with studying eyes in complete silence for the next couple of minutes.

I had been to many a funeral in my day, I’ve also seen many of my friends get married and have kids, I’ve seen my sisters have kids and have felt different realms of emotions for each occasion. After seeing this teaser trailer though, I was left in a state of emotional shock! I didn’t know if I wanted to yell, cry or sit alone in the dark? Which ever it was it would be done with nothing but excitement! Did my eyes deceive me or did I just see the best fucking thing I have ever seen in my life?! There was no way what I just saw was for a new SW movie! It couldn’t be! It looked too damn good! It was too much of what I had waited my whole life for! It had to be a sham, a sick perverted joke to raise my hope and dreams, only to smack them down like a spiked volleyball and humiliate me! But it looked like what I was waiting for and it was too good to fool me, I was too smart for that this time around.

From that moment on I absorbed every story, picture and spoiler I could find. If the news said they had a sneak peek at a booger left on the lot where they were filming Episode III, I would watch an hour of news to see it. I was in deep and when they announced the release date I made sure to check the local theaters for the availability of midnight show tickets. It was like the past experiences and disappointments never happened. I ended up buying my tickets weeks ahead of time and even secured a buddy to drag along with me for the midnight geek showing. All my buddies were on the same page, the only difference was they either had kids or a spouse to see it with and I couldn’t invite myself to their special day. They had to do it their own way and I had to do it mine. Luckily my friend Nicole was willing to be my co-pilot and knowing she loved the movies as much as I did it was a guarantee the ticket wouldn’t be wasted on her.

The big day had finally arrived and I couldn’t believe it was finally here. All those years of waiting had arrived, all those weeks of anticipation were about to pay off, all those hours of anxiously watching the clock were finally passing by. The time had come and there was a buzz in the air that let it be known midnight on May 19th wasn’t just any day, it was Star Wars day and I was going to be part of it.

All that week people would ask me things like “are you ready?” “did you get your tickets already?” and on the day of the same questions were being asked. I down played my excitement because just because I know I’m a total tard didn’t mean I wanted to confirm it for everyone else? “Yeah, I’m gonna check out the midnight show, but only because I did it for the other movies…” I think I blew my cover when some sly individuals asked, “did you take the day off?” and I would blurt out “YEAH! It’s Star Wars day! I’m just going to load up my backpack with a big sandwich and some juice boxes and hang out in the theatre all day!..er.” Oh well, I wasn’t ashamed. I’m a grown ass man and I could do what I wanted.

Work flew by that day and I was finalizing all my preparations for the evening show when it hit me! SHIT! I lost the card I had bought my tickets online with?! The prior week I had taken my sister to dinner and on the way to meet her I had left it in an ATM machine! I had ordered a new one but it had different numbers on it?! Aww, it shouldn’t be a big deal I said to myself. I’ll just gather up all basic information needed to claim my tickets. I found my confirmation sheet from FANDANGO and printed it up. I also printed up my card statement which showed my purchase was already paid for and that the account did indeed belong to me. With my new card and driver’s license I should have had more than I needed to solve my missing card problem. It would be fine.

I call Nicole after work to remind her that she was to meet me at my apartment at around 10:30 so we could get to the show about an hour before show time because we would surely have to wait in line. When I talk to her she sounds pissy. This wasn’t a good sign? I ask her what the deal is and whatever it was to lighten up, it was Star Wars day! It didn’t seem to work, but she assured me she was excited to go and she was just burnt out on work. Fair enough, who likes work? Around 10:00pm she calls me up to tell me she’s on her way, but she still sounds pissy? What the hell! It’s fucking Star Wars day?! Get over it already! I sarcastically tell her to leave the tude at her crib because there was no room for bitterness at the theater and to think of all the carnies we’d be laughing at before the movie. She just placates me with some humorous banter and tells me she is on her way. This was not a good start to a night I had been eagerly awaiting, not good at all.

When she shows up she just looks tired and angry. I get in the car and just look at her.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to you know?”
“I know I don’t, but I want to”
“Well, you seem kind of pissy, you better not ruin Star Wars day!”
She just throws me a “you’re such a dick” look, but lightens up a bit on the ride to the theater. By the time we pull in the parking lot both of us are in pretty good spirits and start to giggle as we talk about the different kinds of tards we were bound to see. I notice the line is LONG and there are two lines at that! I assume the longest line was the one we were going to stand in but it was still at a length where we’d still get good seats. Nicole pulls into a parking spot and we give each other the “let's do this” look and get out of the car and head towards what would turn out to be the most annoying situation and group of the stupidest mother fuckers I’ve dealt with in a long time.

Knowing we had gotten to the movies a little over an hour from when the movie was to start I didn’t really sweat having to go to the ticket booth to claim my tickets I’d bought on line. Sure they might be a minute or two of explaining my card situation, but I had all my papers with me so I would be good to go. I walk to the window and get greeted by this skinny cracked out looking lady with eyes like that run away bride chick and hair like Harpo Marx, except brown. I smile, return the greeting and start explaining my situation to her. As I start to get into the detail of my story I notice she is just staring at me with this far off look in her eyes?
“I’m sorry? Is any of this making sense to you? Here, I have a copy of the receipt and my statement. Here is the new card that I just got in the mail today and here’s my drivers license”
“Ok…um? So you don’t have the card you bought the tickets with? Because I need that card to get your tickets?”
“No, that’s what I’m trying to explain to you? It was lost and I have a new card, but the numbers are different. The paper work I just gave you has all the information needed on it”
“Um…(insert puzzled look here)…but we have the information in the computer with the old card?”
“Yeah…can’t you manually punch in the number if I give it to you?”
“…um…Yeah? Uh…can I see your new card?”
“What? Yeah you can see it, but it’s not the same number?”
“Oh…yeah. Um…y’know…uh, let me get a manager…”
She then bolts out the little door while Nicole and I look at each other in confusion. Neither of us could understand why it was such a big deal and were even chuckling a bit about how absurd the whole thing seemed. I was annoyed, but no where near upset…yet.

A couple of minutes later Miss Crackhead walks in with the Manger and gestures towards me. The manager is about the same height as me and looked to be a couple of years younger. He’s dressed in this really bad suit that has these abnormally looking shoulder pads and seems a bit of a dork. He gives me a nice mellow “hello sir” and starts looking at the paper work.
“So you don’t have the card you purchased the tickets with?”
“No! I just went through this with the lady who went to get you” Who's standing next to the manager and has an expression like I tried to pull one over on her.
“Look, I lost the card and I know the last set of numbers on it. Why don’t I give you those numbers and usually the first set of numbers always remain the same so you can use the first set off of my new card and punch in the last set of numbers from my old card?”
“Well sir, we usually use the card for reference and that information is stored in the computer. We can’t get access to your tickets without that information”
“Can’t you enter the information manually? I have every piece of information you can possibly need right here, I just don’t have the actual card! If you can’t get that information you can still see that they were paid for by me, so can’t you give me a set of tickets and just leave the tickets unclaimed?”
“Sir, the problem is this is a sold out show…”
“YES! I know! That’s why I bought my tickets ahead of time!” I say loudly as I feel my hands make fists.
“Let me see something…” The crackhead is standing next to him, silently, and the Manager starts typing away on the computer.

A few minutes pass and he’s still typing away on the keyboard like he was trying to hack into the fucking Pentagon or something! Nicole can sense I’m about to flip out and shakes here head with a smirk on her face. “DUDE! What is their problem,” she asks me with a scowl. I just shrug my shoulders and shake my head, I was already feeling dizzy with anger. More time passes and the Manager and I exchange a few more pointless Q&A’s when I notice some movement out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head and notice that the movement was all the people who were lined up were now shuffling into the movie theater! I look at Nicole in disbelief and she just looks dazed. “Excuse me? That wouldn’t happen to be the line I was supposed to be in going in the theater to be seated would it?”
“Uh, I think it is”
“WHAT?! What is the problem here? Why is this taking so long? Now people are already going into the theater! What more information could you possibly need!”
At this point a little Mexican guy pokes his head into the box office and asks Shoulder Pads if everything was going alright. Shoulder Pads nods and the guy disappears. Crackhead is still just standing there looking like she was trying to figure out how many cocks she would have to suck before she got her next fix. Now I’m just imagining myself reaching in the little hole they hand you your tickets through and grabbing Shoulder Pads by the tie and smashing his face into the plexi glass! My hands are starting to twitch and Shoulder Pads asks, “Sir, do you know the number of the original card?”
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME! I’VE GIVEN IT TO YOU NUMEROUS TIMES ALREADY! WHAT ARE…NEVERMIND! HERE’S THE NUMBER…” I start to recite the number again and he’s just gazing into the monitor of his computer and typing like he just learned how.
“Okay, I’m sorry. That last set of numbers again?”
“JESUS?! YOUR MESSING WITH ME RIGHT?! YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS! DO YOU NEED ME TO WRITE THE DAMN NUMBERS DOWN FOR YOU? WOULD THAT HELP YOU OUT?!”
“Yeah, can you do that?” he says as he slides me a pen through the small hole in the plexiglass. I write the numbers down with such furious anger that I almost engraved them into the counter top. I slide the paper back to him and continue to stare him down just waiting for him to provoke me to go inside and fuck him up. He refuses to make eye contact with me and grabs the paper and starts typing in hacker fashion again. Nicole is quietly leaning on the counter with her back to Shoulder Pads, but is almost as pissed as I was. Crackhead was just nibbling on her nails and watching in awe as Shoulder Pads types away.

After a couple MORE minutes I see two tickets pop up from the counter near the computer. Shoulder Pads has a look of satisfaction on his face and grabs the tickets from the machine.
“Ok, what I did was I took the last set of numbers from your old card and then typed the first set of numbers from your new card and after I did that it released the tickets!”
“…” I just stare at him for a sec “So you just went ahead and did what I told you to do when I first walked up to this window and it worked huh? Wow! Your and effing genius! Can I just have my tickets!”
“Sure, just go ahead and go inside the theater. Sorry it took so long”
I throw him the hardest “FUCK YOU” look I could muster and snatch my tickets from his hand. “What fucking retards,” Nicole exclaims, “what the hell was the problem”
I didn’t answer her and I just hand her her ticket and we walk in.

At this point there are no more people waiting to get into our theater and I knew finding a good seat was not going to happen. When we get in the theater we don’t really hear anything but once we get around the wall and look up at the stadium seats the whole place is packed! Packed with the biggest freak show this side of the O.C.! I saw about 5 guys with lap top computer open and typing with a creepy frenzy as the glow from their screens shimmered in their glasses. There was another batch of folks in costumes and some even had girlfriends. I saw two Darth Vaders, about 4 Jedi, 1 stormtrooper and 1 Jabba the Hutt (which just turned out to be this really gross fat guy.) With Nicole by my side we walk up the aisle scanning the theater for 2 seats. After a few failed attempts at securing some seating we deal with the fact that we were destined to sit in the front section. Already livid from the ticket situation I get another jolt of anger at this realization and blurt out “how the fuck do you even watch a movie when you sit that close to the fucking screen?” I hear a voice that isn’t Nicole’s answer “LIKE THIS!” I turn my head to see who was talking to me and its some chubby nerd fuck and once I turn to look at him he raises his chin and stares up at the ceiling while repeating “LIKE THIS!” Thinking I could probably sock him in the chin and snap his neck in one swift move I decide to walk away. I guess he wasn’t going to be satisfied until he got a laugh because when Nicole walks past him he follows her with his eyes and yells out “LIKE THIS!” one last time, hoping to tap her funny bone. Asshole.

We get to the front and notice there are two seats next to each other… in the handicapped section. We figure we were fucked anyway so we might as well snatch them up while we had the chance. Once we sit down we both look like we could go on a killing spree. We are sitting in the right hand corner of the front section and are SO far off to the right that we have to look at the movie from the corners of our eyes like it’s going to sneak up on us! I am so filled with rage by this point that I can’t sit still. “I want to go wait in the lobby for that fucking Manager so I can beat the shit out of him!” I tell Nicole. With a touch of amusement in her expression she comes back at me with “I have some vicadin? Do you want one?” “YES! You KNOW I want one!” She then smiles and reaches in her purse like a grandparent would if they were getting you a stick of gum. Why she had a bottle of vicadins I don’t know, but she had them and that’s all I did care about. I gather up a little saliva and dry gulp the pill like it was the antidote to rage. It wasn’t until after I realized I hadn’t eaten dinner that night and I’d probably make myself sick by taking drugs on an empty stomach so I offer to get her a refreshment, which she declines, and make my way to the snack bar. All I got was a large lemonade and some nacho’s and it came out to cost close to $10!? I could have had two orders of macho nachos for that price? Seeing as how I was already seething with anger I don’t even sweat it and hand the kid behind the counter a 10 spot and make my way back to my seat.

When I sit down Nicole is all excited and grabs my arm. “Oooh! You missed it!” she tells me with her eyes wide with excitement.
“Missed what?”
“Man! When you left these teenagers walk up to the front of the theater and they are all dressed in Star Trek outfits!”
“Star Trek?! How many were there?”
“Yeah Star Trek! There were three of them and they get up to the front and yell out “LIVE LONG AND PROSPER” while making the Mr. Spock sign with their hands, then they yell “STAR TREK RULES!!!” and run out of the theater!”
“Are you kidding me?! And I missed it!?”
“Yeah! After they yelled that the nerds started getting crazy and were yelling “FUCKING NERDS! STAR TREK SUCKS!”
“Damn! What a jip! I can’t believe I missed that shit!”
“It was suh-weet dude!’

I start eating my nachos just waiting for my little white friend to kick in when I notice the weird little Mexican guy who had popped his head into the box office to check on things. Having had a little bit of banter on the bullshit that went on that evening and how we got fucked over Nicole suggests I go talk to the little Mexican Manager (who I will refer to as M&M). I think about it for a minute and agree with her. I get out of my seat and walk up behind him, because he was talking to some employee, and lightly tap him on the shoulder. He turns around with a bit smile on his face and tells me “Jess!” It was at this point I knew this scenario was going to suck!
“Hi. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Chure! Wass can I do fo ju?”
“Yeah, I just dealt with one of your managers and some ticket booth girl moments ago and I’m not very happy with the situation that just took place.”
“Ho, do ju knows the mana-hers name?”
“No, but he’s the chubby blond guy in the bad suit. You had looked into the ticket booth when he was working on trying to get me my tickets?”
“JESS! Ho k, I knows who jor talkin bout”
“Ok, well here’s what happened…” and I proceed to tell all the drama to him. He seems very attentive, giving me head nods, cupping his chin and such.
“Well now we get into the theater and there is no place to sit and we’re stuck in the handicapped section,” after making that statement I point towards Nicole and she smiles back, “I’m not a fool, I know we weren’t going to get the best seat in the house, but we would have gotten a good seat at least?”
“Uh-huh, well I can sees a couple seas opens steel?” he says as he point to a few single seats with his big ass walkie talkie. This sets me off for some reason because I felt like he wasn’t getting my point.
“Yes, I see a couple of single seats, but we planned on sitting next to each other to watch this movie!” (it’s fucking star wars guy! C’mon! Why would I want to share that special moment with a stranger?!)
“Ho, jess, ho k”
“Well, I’m pretty livid about all this and I think you should at least comp our tickets or do something? This is unacceptable! I bought my tickets weeks ahead of time, I get here early and it was all for nothing! Now I have shitty seats so what was the point of even paying extra for my tickets?!”
“Uh-huh. Sore, I ‘ms so surry bud ee’s not hower monies? It’s meester Yorge Yucas’s monies?”
I just stare at him because I’m not sure I was hearing him right. When I realize this conversation was actually happening I let out a hearty “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS ISN’T YOUR MONEY? THAT IT’S GEORGE LUCAS’S MONEY?!” at this point I’m on the verge of snapping and I get in his face.
“Sore, dus studios dusn’t pays us for chowing dis movies. The monies ghost to meester Yucas! Der ee’s nuting I can do’s?” and he shrugs his shoulders and throws his hand up.
I get closer to him, close enough to where I’m almost looking down on the top of his head.
“LOOK! GEORGE LUCAS DIDN’T TAKE MY MONEY WHEN I BOUGHT THE TICKETS! YOUR THEATER DID! GEORGE LUCAS WASN’T THE DIPSHIT IN THE TICKET BOOTH WHO SCREWED ME OVER! GEORGE LUCAS ISN’T EVEN HERE! YOU ARE! AND SOMETHING BETTER BE DONE ABOUT THIS BECAUSE THIS IS BULLSHIT!”
I feel a bit better having got it all out and I take a step back, but never take my eyes off the little bastard.
“…Ho K. Lesme seas what I can do’s ho k? Eyes be right back”
“Fine, thank you. And if you need me I’ll be in the handicapped section…”

I get back to my seat and Nicole just laughs and says, “Dude! What did you tell him?” I explained the whole George Lucas bullshit and she just laughs and laughs. The movies trailers are starting and so are the effects of the vicadin. They haven’t turned the lights down yet and I’m starting to wonder where the hell M&M is? After a couple of trailers I see M&M charging into the theater and goes to the very front of the screen, looks at me, snaps his finger and gives me the c’mere gesture after he points at me. I tap Nicole on the arm and tell her “I think he wants us to follow him?” When we got up out of our seats to walk to the front of the theater it felt like we were getting called to the principals office and I was just waiting for the audience to yell out “OOOOH! Your buuusted!” but they never did. He walks us over to the hallway and tells me “Ho k, der ee’s huhnother movies sturting rhyes now in the de uther theaters. Eef you wants to go in theres to watched the movies thans you can. Deys havents lets all the peeples in jet.”
I was pretty blown away by this, not to mention the druggins were taking effect and I was feeling pretty mellow. “Really?! That’s…that’s pretty cool. I appreciate that, thank you very much”
“Ee’s no problems. Less go to the theater and ju can seet down.”

As M&M takes us to the theater, me and Nicole are looking at each other with giddy excitement. “I wonder how many people are in there” I say with drug riddled excitement. I walk around the wall where the seats are and I can’t believe my eyes! Not only is the theater almost empty, but the crowd is a bit older and there isn’t ONE jedi in sight! We grab a couple of seats in the middle of the theater and just laugh at the surrealness of the whole night. All I could think was “this better be some kind of fucking great flick!” I was still a bit unnerved about everything that happened and tried to relax so I could enjoy the flick, but the euphoria of seeing the last of the Star Wars saga had been all but eliminated by a slew of dipshits and even though M&M came through for a brutha, I couldn’t get into the movie. My advice to you is, DON’T USE FANDANGO! Using it almost resulted in me pissing blood!

Now you can go on to read about how Episode III: Revenge of the Sith was. Enjoy!

DJB

It says "EPISODE III" but it looks like #2! The long awaited STAR WARS Episode III review...

2005-06-02T17:56:00.000-07:00

So after reading my intro into my review of Episode III I think it's fair to say I didn't really see this movie feeling the tingle in the pee pee excitement I should have. It wasn't my fault? I tried, but powers beyond my control were against me... AnyDooku, Here we go. AND THERE WILL BE SPOILERS THROUGH OUT THE REVIEW, so don't gripe to me later, you've been warned.

EPISODE III: REVENGE OF THE SITH:

I think once this movie is release on DVD and I can sit down with a tall cool one while I watch it will I see the magic everyone else saw, but only then. I thought this movie was a huge let down! Don't get me wrong, it had it's moments.

It pretty much starts off with its guns blaring, literally! There is a HUGE space battle and ships are flying to and fro blowing shit up. It is visually breathtaking to see just how detailed everything is! What's even more amazing is how far we've come in technology that when you see something like this you almost forget there really is nothing there, it's all made up!

Enter our heros, Obi-wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. As soon as they show up on screen you can feel the hairs on your arms stand up. It really helps if you've seen the Clone Wars cartoons prior to seeing this movie because it kind of explains what's going on. Basically, Senator Palpatine (the Emperor! Yeah, like you didn't figure that out already) has been kidnapped by General Greivous and the two jedi are out to rescue him. In the cartoons General Greivous is a bad ass robot/part alien that can jump around and fight with up to 4 lightsabers at a time. When you see him on screen you almost instantly go limp though. He still looks like a bad ass, but he moves cheesy and every now and again he gets this smoker cough? They never really explain the cough either? It's like listening to an old smoker try and be a though ass when he starts barking out his lines and after a while you want to clear your throat and have him shut up!

Obi-wan and Luke find the Emperor in a throne room type setting and he's bound to a chair. The chair kind of looks like the one he sat in in Return of the Jedi and I think your to assume that he isn't really a hostage at all. Enter Count Dooku. This is the old guy that beat the shit out of Obi-wan and chopped off Anakin's arm in Episode II. He was cooler than sliding down a glacier naked in that movie, but in this one he goes out like a bitch. This is the first of many times in the movie where your get all fidgity with excitement because you know shit is going to go down and you can't wait to see the action. With sweaty palms I sit up in my chair and earnestly watch the screen. This was the revenge meeting for Obi-wan and Anakin and they were going to fuck some shit up...jedi style! Obi-wan and Anakin turn on their sabers, exchange and few words and charge! Then Obi-wan is instantly thrown to the side and knocked out?! WHA? Anakin talks some shit then after a couple unimpressive moves cuts off Dooku's hands and kills him?! In a matter of minutes it was all over! I couldn't believe it? My friend Nicole looks at me with a look that tells me I wasn't the only one who thought the fight was bunk!

The Emperor is the one who talks Anakin into killing Dooku and you know he's just trying to get into Anakin's head. Anakin gives in and cuts Dooku's noggin off. He seems troubled and even though he's a bit whiney you don't hate him as much as you do in Attack of the Clones. Actually, I kind of liked him. Obi-wan is still knocked out and much to the Emperor's disapproval Anakin scoops him up and they head and escape.

There is more action that goes on, but it's nothing really compelling so I won't go into detail about it. All you need to know is that after Anakin gets the Emperor back to safety you find out the jedi council, mainly Mace Windu (Sam Jackson) and Yoda, don't trust the Emperor and have been investigating him. They tell Anakin to keep an eye on him, and this doesn't make Anakin very happy. He thinks Palpatine is his friend and mentor so he's conflicted. Turns out the jedi council has their reservations bout Anakin too and pretty much tell him "do this and you'll be in our cool book." Anakin agrees. Obi-wan on the other hand is given the task of finding Joe Camel, a.k.a. General Greivous.

The movie starts to play more with the dialogue at this point and you can almost feel the embarrassment the actors felt barking out these scripted atrocities! The best example is when Anakin is lovingly staring at Padme' and casually tells her "You look so beautiful."
Natalie Portman is working this gnarly Chaka Khan hairdo and dragging a brush through while she dreamily replies "that's because I'm so in love!"
"NO! NO, I'M so in love!," Anakin replies
Maybe it was the vicadin on an empty stomach I took, but I winced at this bad scene and looked around to see if anyone was handing you "yeah, I know" head nods. Nothing.

Now, to be fair again, the whole movie's scenes aren't this bad! But the bad ones are so bad it takes a while to shake them off and focus on the movie and say to yourself "Hey, it isn't like this stuff can really happen? Why am I being so judgmental?" and actually believe the bullshit your feeding yourself so you don't feel cheated FOR THE THIRD FUCKING TIME!

I don't' want to get into the WHOLE plot and break down of scenes because 1) it'll take too long 2) some people STILL haven't seen it? Yeah I don't' get that either? I will however tell about the most notorious part of the movie. A part that should get George Lucas shanked like a jailhouse bitch by the hard core fans. That's right, the part with DARTH VADER!

Now we all grew up knowing about Darth Vader along with his infamous breathing and voice, provided by James Earl Jones. He was such a tough ass in all the movies (even JEDI) and his image just said "Baddest Motherfucker in the Galaxy." Ok, well Lucas must have said "FUCK ALL THAT NOISE! Let's try and make everyone forget about that and turn him into a laughing stock!" And that's just what he did...

Enter Anakin "Extra Crispy" Skywalker, laying down, being put back together with robotic parts by robots while strapped to a gurney. You start to see the legs getting attached, then the arms. As the scene progresses he's finally in "the suit", except for the helmet and you see the face mask get set on (and even finally get to see what Darth sees when he looks out the mask), then the dome starts to come down. As the tension builds during this part you watch in silence as the dome lower and clicks into place. Instantly you hear the very first Darth Vader breath and it gives you the chills! The gurney turns upright and Vader still has his hands clamped down. The Emperor is standing next to him in his best Mr. Burns from the Simpsons posture and tells him "RISE LORD VADER!" Darth Vader is upright and asks "Where is Padme'?"
"You...you killed her in your anger..."
Vader lets it sit for a sec then gets all "Carrie" by throwing shit around and crumpling metal with his Dark Side skills. The it happens. He rips his arms free and tilts his head back to yell "NOOOOOOOO!" I swear he looked like that fucking Enrique Iglesias singing "Hero." Nicole and I just look at each other in shock (again) and just start busting out in laughter! It was DUMB! The scene was a bit Frankenstein-ish, but it was working. Even if they just left it with him breaking shit it would have been fine, but there was no need to puss him out like that. Luckily the VERY end of the movie stirred a little emotion in me so that I mentally blocked it until the car ride back to my apartment...

So did I like the flick? Yes, overall it was good, but not anything like the Lord of the Rings trilogy. If those movies were so good, all three too mind you, then how did this new trilogy of a perfect recipe get so fucked up?! I don't understand. This is the strongest of the three movies and I do say without regret that Ewen McGregor is the SHIT as Obi-wan Kenobi...in ALL movies! The fight scenes, with the exception of General Grievous, are very well done and the speed these kids twirl around lightsabers is beyond impressive. The effects are the best out of all SIX movies and very very detailed (keep an eye out for the flying pilot in the opening battle). These were all commendable feats, but the movie just lacked magic. Maybe it's shotty dialogue or the fact that I almost beat the shit out of two movie managers before the movie? I don't know, BUT if you were to ask me if I'd go see it in the movie theaters again I'd have to quote Darth Vader and tell you "NOOOOOOOO!"

STAR WAR: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith - ***stars, and that's pretty generous!

DJB

UPDATE! 6/17/05

It's a good thing I posted this late! Last night I sat down in my apartment, and in a relaxed atmosphere watched Episode III. How I got to watch a mint copy in the comfort of my own home is none of your effing business!

Although I didn't think it was as terrible as I originally thought, it still wasn't enough to change my review entirely. I will say that the Vader yelling "NOOOOOOOO!" scene still sucked like an old hooker with no teeth, but it was a bit better when you notice the Emperor containing his laughter during the whole break down! It's pretty evil. Some scenes where I thought the dialogue was a little much weren't so bad this time around. But I would still watch it at the casa de Barron than pay good money to see it in the theaters, and you can take that to the bank!

STAR WARS: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith - *** 1/2 stars, a little more well deserved than before.

One FLU over the cuckoo's nest...

2005-05-27T13:55:00.000-07:00

I know it's been some time since I've made a post, but I've been pretty sick...AGAIN! Don't fret my pets, I have plenty to write and post from events that took place since the last post.

I figure it also gives everyone enough time to catch Ep.III Revenge of the Sith before I post my review. I will also share the wonderful tale of how I almost smashed in the faces of two movie theatre managers during my midnight premiere visit.

Yeah that's right, I saw the movie at Midnight!

See you after the long weekend!

DJB

A day with the Dodgers ends with a WHORE-ible night…

2005-05-05T16:30:00.000-07:00

The actual events in this story happened this last Saturday, but in observance of Cinco De Mayo I’ve decided to post it today. VIVA LA MEXICO! As a special treat to my readers I will randomly throw out Spanish words to give a shout out to my peeps. Do I speak Spanish? No, but that’s not going to stop this Hombre! I will also keep it real with a border hopper feel by not editing this story either! I'm sure it will be chalk full of type-o's, bad punctuation and random statements that are not politically correct. Hey, that's just how I do Essay!

This weekend I was invited to get in touch with my roots by traveling out to L.A. to catch a Dodgers game with my uncle Leo. I’m not a baseball fan in the least, as a matter of fact I detest the game. I find it as entertaining as manually pulling a turd out of an old persons ass without gloves! I do however enjoy sitting in a stadium and people watching. Especially in Los Angeles. One other reason I indulged in Americas favorite pastime is because I hadn’t hung out with Uncle Leo in quite some time. When you hang out with uncle Leo you know your going to enjoy some CERVESA’S and have a blast. Better yet, uncle Leo might get plowed and either put stuff on his head, as he’s been known to do when schnokerd for some reason – seriously, I’ve seen him put a cooler and a barstool on his noggin before, OR he might back you up in some liquid courage induced bar scuffle. If you don’t find that the recipe for a good time then you need to loosen up AMIGO!

To give you a bit of a visual on my co-pilot I’ll describe him a bit for you. Uncle Leo is about a foot shorter than I am, I’m 6’0, has a bit of a paunch (not PONCHO) but is a solid little guy! Very athletic and quick. He also has hair that is one level below an afro! According to my mother, Leo had beautiful straight hair when he was a wee lad and then one day POOF! His noggin was covered with pubic hair! I guess in the early stages of this development uncle Leo tried different tactics to get his hair back to the straight beautiful locks he used to have. One tactic was to wear a nylon cap to bed. It didn’t work. When I was a kid I too had beautiful straight hair and my sisters got the curse of the knaps! I would razz them with MUY gusto and my mom would threaten me with, “you know your uncle Leonard had straight hair too, then he went to bed one night and woke up with tight curly hair! Now that I look at it, you hair is looking like it might be getting a bit curly?” Now this would shut me up and even though I knew she was probably lying, I still had a hint of fear that she might be right. Luckily for me it never happened, thus making me a bigger asshole to my sisters and even growing my hair long for my younger sister to be jealous of! Her hair was so knappy that she tried to straighten it with Dark & Lovely and it didn’t even relax the curls. That’s a whole other tale, back to Leo. What I like about Leo is that he is a lot like me, or I’m a lot like him? Whatever, point is I think we click because our personalities are similar. I’m very monotone and Leo is worse than me so when we talk to each other it probably sounds like time as slowed down. When Leo and I go to bars we can sit and gel for hours, never feeling the need to entertain each other. His humor is as dry as old lady twat and he slays me when he gets wise. He isn’t afraid to talk shit to someone, yet when he does he is so monotone I don’t think people actually realize that he is putting them down. Another funny thing is all my friends love the guy? He isn’t your typical creepy uncle who is trying to fit in, he just does? And without even trying? He’s lawyer now, but when he was younger he was quite the rebel and has many stories to tell about the random shit he’s seen and done. I feel lucky that he like to share these stories with me because I know he probably wouldn’t with any one else, well, maybe Philly Blunts? If they had blog sites in his day I’m sure it would mirror this one.

Per his instructions, I get to Leo’s crib around 4pm so we can have some grub and brews before the big game. I’m not fucking around when I say uncle Leo has gots some mean skills in the kitchen yo! I had hung out at a friends house the night before and had a couple of beers…ok, a twelver of beers and I slept in pretty late. Since I opted to sleep in I didn’t have time to get a bite to eat, so when I got to Leo’s I was starved. Instantly I grab a beer and shoot the shit while he makes his final preparations to our meal. He was making beer chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed broccoli. Just typing that out made my stomach grumble! Leo knows he is the mashed potato master usually makes them when I go over for dinner. I don’t how he does it, but they are by far the best spuds I’ve eaten. After a few beers it’s time to eat and Leo did not disappoint! Seeing as how I hadn’t eaten and started right up with the beers when I got there I was working a nice buzz, even after the meal. As soon as we finish eating we get ready to hit the road and I pound the fresh beer I was working on in seconds. This boosts my buzz a bit and I’m in a chipper mood. Leo likes to get there early so we can get a good parking spot so we didn’t have to wait forever when the game ended. We were also to meet some FAMILIA for a little tailgate drinking before the game. Sounded like a plan to me.

Now if your Mexican and live in California, it’s probably a safe assumption that you’ve attended a Dodger game at the prestigious DODGER STADIUM. It’s almost like it’s a rite of passage for us latino’s! Not just any mexicans go to these game either, un-uh, real live Los Angeles mexicans attend these games. On one hand I give them props for being able to have a place to congregate and express their latino pride. On the other hand, this is a place they congregate to express their latino pride. The worst of the worst go to the Dodger games! Take a second to think of a Mexican stereo-type…are you done? Now imagine 54,000 people who fit this stereo type, throw in some baseball and you pretty much have a real live Dodger game. It’s the exact opposite of an Angels game, which is located in Orange County. At Angel games the majority of spectators are WT or snobby white folks and their famalies. I think most of the Mexicans at Angel games are the ones usually serving up your beer and food. The vibe isn’t as good as and L.A. Dodger game, not by a long shot! As much as I hate baseball and homies, I can set aside my distaste for both at a good ole Dodger game! Shit, I’m down with brown!

When we got to the game we were supposed to meet up with the infamous Cousin Joey. Cousin Joey is my uncles cousin and I think that makes him my 2nd cousin? I’m not sure how the whole lineage thing works out, but I’m pretty sure that’s how it works? Cousin Joey and his wife were to be at the game with another character named Steve-O and his wife, who weren’t family but good peeps. I guess these kids are regualr Dodger fans and always have a little tail gate extravaganza before and after the game. From what Leo was saying they always have a bottomless cooler of beer. I’ve never met the cat, nor his friend, but stories have been told about how they were quite the mixers when it came to partying. Leo had met up with them in Laughlin not to long ago and raved about what animals these kids were. Basically, there was drinking and tits involved so I was even more intrigued to meet cousin Joey and Steve-O, but mostly their wives!

Once we get to the “special” parking spot Leo give Steve-O and Joey a call, but they hadn’t even made their way to the stadium yet so there wouldn’t be any beer busting in the parking lot. Since they were M.I.A. we would have to meet them after the game. Having just downed numerous beers prior to getting to the parking lot, I was pretty bummed. There was no way I could keep the suds flowing at $7 for a cup of shitty beer! I was S.O.L, but what could I do? I’d just have to wait till after the game when my thirst would be unbearable and try to find the bottom of Steve-O’s cooler. We decide to sit in the stadium to see what’s doin, we were an hour early so what other choice did we have? It wasn’t so bad and the crowd was pretty scarce so we were able to relax in our seats with out dealing with the hustle and bustle of finding our seats. Instantly my eyes scan the surrounding area for eye candy or carnies. Suprisingly there was a bevy of beauties to be seen! I found it amusing that Leo just happened to have a set of binoculars to “watch the game” with. The PR chicks were on the field toting around a group of kids and some mexican family with a girl wearing a tiara and sash. Even with Leo’s binoculars I couldn’t make out the writing on the sash, but I think she was Miss Taco’s Mexico or something. There was no way she was holding any prestigeous title with the mug she was walking around with! I did fall in love with one of the PR chicks on the field, but she doesn’t know and it makes me feel like it’s our special little seceret. Shhh! The ushers are a little “eclectic” if you will. They ranged from young to old, White to black, and normal to scary. I think my favorite was the girl that was walking around with a Jackie Gleason mustache! She was some young cha cha girl all decked out in her Dodger usher gear, but she had some funky facial hair? I was fascinated by this and quickly informed Leo of my discovery. As it turned out, after snatching the binoculars from Leo, she didn’t have a mustache after all? Nope, it was just a black outline around he lips?! That damn cha cha girl had the stupidest looking lipstick application and when you were far away it looked like a gross ass mustache. What made me even sicker was thinking about the shaved head home who glanced at her then excitedly telling his COMPADRE, “AYE! Look at baby girl, she is FINE aye!”

Leo and I are having a good time pointing out different “talent” out to each other and engaging in random conversation, but I was getting powerful thirsty for some brews! Not being able to take it anymore I tell ask Leo if he wanted a beer, my treat. He almost seems surprised by my offer and accepts. I trot up the stairs to the concession stand and order to Samuel Adams. “That’ll be…$14.50!,” the guy at the register tells me. “DAMN!” I think to myself, “I could have bought a case of Miller High Life for less than that!” Yeah, that’s right, I said HIGH LIFE! They don’t call that shit the “Champagne” of beers for nothing! I give the kid my cash and grab my cups of sweet sweet brew. It may have been a rip off, but it tasted like the baby Jesus kissed the tap and poured me a cup of heavenly beer, with love no less. While enjoying the cold brewha I start studying my surrounding and notice how different things were from when I was a kid. When I was younger they only had the one big screen t.v. in center field and none of the fancy graphic screens all around the seating areas. I even went there for the Depech Mode Violator tour in ’89 when the most advance thing there was the sound system. Other than that the stadium was pretty dated. Now the stadium is still outdated, but with a new big screen t.v. in centerfield (right next to the old ass one from yesteryear) and newer seats and signs. After processing the wonderful changes that have taken place Leo reminds me that after tonights game there would be a fire works extravaganza! Woo whoo! The game is about to start and the stadium is pretty packed by now. Since the crowd had grown the army of walking concession folk start to pop up hear and there. There is your usual cotton candy, ice cream sandwich and pizza guys roaming around, but the stand out vender was the peanut guy! Oh boy was he rich! He’s an older caucasion gentlemen with an angry “I’m the peanut master” look on his face and a hair piece that looked like a wedge of 70’s porno pussy hair! Seriously, it was a horrible patch of thick, coarse black hair reasted atop an old head full of grey hair. The front looked so odd because there was no real hair line, it just looked like a kitten taking a nap on his forehead. Leo informs me that the tiger is well known among Dodger fans and that the old bastard even has his own website! I scoff at this bit of information and think to myself “boy, they’ll let anyone have a fucking website won’t they!?” ahem. Well this guy is slinging nuts like a ninja and to be honest it was rather impressive. While I’m transfixed on Mr. Peanut Leo remarks that he has a fix on Cousin Joey and Steve-O. Having never seen them before I ask where and grab the binoculars. They are seated in the left outfield corner and even though Leo tells me where they are sitting all I can see is this old guy with white hair and a goatee? I explain to Leo that I don’t see them and the tells me again where to look. “I only see that old guy?.. wait, is that him? That old fucker? I thought he was a younger guy?”
“uh…no. That’s him.”
What a kick in the balls, I just assumed he was a younger guy. I see the wives and even though they are a bit older they are pretty attractive. Who turns out to be Joey’s wife look very similar to the mother in “Malcolm in the Middle”, Steve-O’s wife is just cute. Leo says we’ll meet up with them later on so we just sit back and enjoy the game.

After a bit of game watching we hear these two dipshits behind us talking bout gettin some peanuts up in this piece! I sneak a peek at this dynamic duo and shake my head in shame. They are both Mexican, naturally, and probably in their late teens – early twenties max! One kid is fat and has a look on his face like all his face muscles gave out. The other guy wasn’t as retarded looking, but sounding? Well, that was another story. Retardo Montelban is trying to get peanut guys attention but when he calls out it sounds like “DAY! BEEDUNTS OBER HERE! DAY! DAY! WEED WANDS SOME BEEDUNTS!” so he finally does a loud whistle and get P-nuts attention (actually I think my uncled said his name was Roger? Why he knew that I don’t know). P-nut flings a bag of nuts over to the tard with precision and barley misses the top of Leo’s head. He must have been selling up a storm of nuts because he is glistening with perspiration, yet the front of his hair is mysteriously dry? Hmm. I see EL GIGANTE catch the nuts and sits looking at P-nut. “PASS IT TO THE LEFT” P-nut yells to Chubbo while pointing in the direction he’s yelling about. I had my back to the dipshit behind me, but I could see a look of frustration on P-nuts face. “TO THE LEFT! PASS IT DOWN THAT WAY” he yells again. Wondering if the kid was just being an asshole Leo and I turn slightly in our seats to see what the drama was. When I turn around I see Fats Domino sitting there with peanuts in one hand, money in the other and one big look of confusion on his stupid mug. Not really understanding what he was to pass to the left he starts to pass the peanuts down the aisle. “NO! WHA…NOT THE NUTS! PASS IT DOWN!” Again, the dumbfuck starts to pass the peanuts to the left. He has the nuts passed down about two people and P-nut charges up the aisle looking irritated. “CAMMON! YOU KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! THE MONEY! PASS THE MONEY NOT THE NUTS! GEEZ!” Ricky Retardo finally gets it and I can actually see when he understands by the expression on his face. Finally he passes his cash down the aisle and as P-nut is counting it he looks up at Chubbs Mckenzie and his buddy saying “Why would I ask for the nuts back?” then he makes eye contact with Fatso’s buddy “Where did you find this guy?!” The other guys doesn’t say a word and P-nut passes the change back, shakes his head in disgust and storms away. Leo and I turn back to face the field while the section gets oddly silent and we don’t say a word. Feeling like a huge asshole the fat retard loudly says, “Buckin’ Dasshole, Das why heeds delling beednuts!” I think the statement was made with hopes of all of the people around him chiming in with support and agreement, but no one said a word. The only sound that was made was when Leo and I glanced at each other and then broke out in childish snickering while holding our fists to our mouth. I seriously wanted to smack the nuts out of Tubbo’s hand and slap him in the mouth for being an idiot.

Some time passes and then I see a beach ball fall out of the sky and into the crowd in front of us. I had totally forgot about the beach ball bullshit that goes on during the games. I look around and notice that all over the stadium beach balls are being bounced around. People are smacking them all around and the ushers are tying to snatch which ever balls they can but I only see a couple of balls get snagged! (eww, that sounded wrong) One ball comes in our direction and I see Leo pull his arm back and WHAMO! He smacks the ball like it was Tina Turner! He makes solid contact and it goes flying forward with furious speed…right into the back of some ladies head. Leo just smiles and doesn’t even apologize! I start busting up and continue to watch the beach ball extravagana. I see one ball and it cracks me up because it has a big “99 cent store” written across it. After pointing it out to Leo he tells me “ah…yes, that is a big favorite here” and after looking around I notice that almost every other beach ball is indeed a “99 cent store” ball! Boy, my people really plan this shit out. The ball frenzy dies down and then another retarded tradition starts up… the WAVE! I probably hate the wave more than I hate looking at the thick yellow toe nail on an old persons foot! Little did I know that the wave was a perfect oppourtunity for Fat guy in little coat’s buddy behind us to shine! He was hella excited about the wave, so excited that as it crept up to our right he kept yelling, “OOOOH! HERE IT COMES! HERE IT COOOMES!!!!” then it came and he would stand up while yelling “YAAAAY! WHOOO!” like he was really dodging waves in the ocean. I kid you not, he did this EVERY single time the wave came by! And it came by quite a few times. Sick part was, I think Leo and I were the only ones who never left our seats whenever the wave came by. We would both just sit still staring forward in uncomfortable disgust. I figure this was a good time to take a piss and I get up and head towrds the bathroom.

I swear that if I didn’t have to piss so bad that I was tasting it I would never have gone. The bathrooms were filled with drunk HOMBRE’s and little kids pissing. The worst part was there weren’t any urinals, just a troft! GROSS! Last thing I need to see and hear is the hearty yellow stream of a strangers piss splashing around the inside of a troft! I also don’t like having to whip out my Barron-cuda sized pee pee in front of strangers! Luckily for me I wasn’t cold because I would have been really embarassed if someone saw me and thought I was trying to squeeze liquid out of a walnut!

Finally the game is almost over and it’s well into the night when Leo says we should go meet up with cousin Joey at his seats. Heading over there Leo has to shake a snake so I wait outside the pissers for him. When he comes out he tells me he ran into Steve-O in the pisser and he would show us where we can sit. Steve-O comes out and it’s this young guy who is taller that I am, and has forearms like a… baseball player! He gives me a hearty handshake and we say our hello’s. He tells us to come down where his seats were because there wasn an empty aisle in front of him we could sit in. While we’re walking down he informs us that we shouldn’t sit in the first two seats because some drunk asshole had puked all over them. As I approach the barf seafts I notice that they have been rinsed off, but the pungent smell of vomit is still lingering! Finally I meet cousin Joey and the wives. Joey is an old looking guy but friendly, not annoying kind of friendly either, it was the comfortable kind of friendly that makes you want to get to know the kid. The wives are a little older looking up close, but cute enough that a Mrs. Robinson fantasy wouldn’t be unheard of. We all give our hello’s and handshakes and watch the final inning of the game. Dodgers beat the Rockies if you were interested, I wasn’t.

“So do you guys want to have some beers at the car” Steve-O offers
“YES I FUCKING DO!” I think to myself with parched excitement
“mmm, uh…sure!” Leo exclaims
We start the trek up the stairs and cousin Joey says he and his wife had to use the restroom and would meet us at Steve-O’s truck. Steve-O’s wife says Steve-O was going to take back a shirt she had bought earlier in the game and he’d be right back. Leo and her talk for a bit and no Steve-O? I look around and notice that after the game they started letting people out on the field to watch the fire works. The crowd on the field was enourmous and looked like chocolate sprinkles on a green frosted cupcake. There were mexicans everywhere and they came prepared! All around the field there were coolers, people in sleeping bags and base balls being tossed around, a few footballs too. What really made my mexican pride shine were the few Mexican flags being waved around like we just over took Dodger Stadium and were claiming it the property of Mexico! What a wonderful night to be Mexican! It’s starting to get close to fireworks time and still no Steve-O? WTF?! His wife starts to get impatient and finally calls him on her cel to see what’s up. She seems pissed and gets off the phone. “Fucking guys are already at the car drinking!” she yells and we follow her as she charges out of the stadium. While walking through the parking lot the fireworks start blasting over our heads. Although they were colorful, they were kind of cheesy? I see the “crew” gathered around an SUV and they are all holding beers and smiling at us as we approach. There are some other broads with them (friends of the crew, but I never really got the gist of who they were) and a kid who looked bored out of his skull. Steve-O, knowing he was in trouble walks up to his wife with open arms and starts apologizing. His wife plays as if pissed, but it’s only an act and she brushes him off.

Steve-O’s hands Leo and I a couple of tall boy Coors Lights and even though I’m not a big fan of Coors Light, I do appreciate the delicate flavor of free beer! We all stand around joking and joshing, beer after beer when cousin Joeys wife has to take a piss. We’re pretty deep in the parking lot and the only place where she could let it flow was some portable building in the back of the lot. For some reason she claimed that was too far away and decided to have the other ladies that were there hold blankets around her as she pissed between two cars. I swear to got had we been any closer to the steep mountain wall behind us she would have collapsed it with the furious flood of piss she released! From the looks of it, the was the first time she had ever pissed and she had decades of piss to let go of! I’d neveer seen such a puddle and apparently no one else had either because they all commented on the enourmous amount of piss that filled the parking lot. It was all fun and games until by my 4 tall boy I had to make water too! Steve-O was pissing the whole time by opening the SUV door and standing near it pissing away. Two of his pisses didn’t even add up to Joey’s wifes flood gates. I crack and decide Steve-O’s ghetto piss tactics were good enough for me! I was no prima donna! Leo joins me on the other side of the SUV and I piss like I’ve never pissed before! I swear I was chipping the asphalt with every drop too! Still not equalling the amount of Joey’s wifes piss I give a bouncy shake, tuck in the beast, zip up and walk back. I grab a fresh cold beer and us the frost and ice bits to wash my hands. As I’m doing this Steve-O’s wife calls out “NICE PEE SPOT!” and points to my shorts! I look down and notice that she is right! DAMN PENIS! I had give it a good shake too! They all start to laugh and I just shrug it off, what could I do?

We “party” it up a bit and it’s already getting past 1am and we are almost the only ones in the lot. I must have had about 6 tall boys, and everyone else had just as many when I realized Leo was right! Steve-O’s fucking cooler really was bottomless! I look to Leo with amusement ready to tell him about my realization when I notice he’s had a few too many. I ask him if he wants to go to china town for some grub and he agrees. After wrapping up the pizzarty we get a ride back to the car and give our goodbyes. On the ride back Steve-O’s wife had to ride back in my lap and maybe it was the Coors, but I found the whole ride rather nice! OH FUCK OFF, I’m not ashamed! As they leave I get in the Leo mobile and it’s off to china town for some eats!

On some other bender I had went on with uncle Leo in L.A. he had intrduced me to this chinese food place in china town that served fresh food after hours. This place is called Happy House Seafood and if your ever in L.A. and mildly drunk you want to eat here! If you are sober, you’ll still want to check this place out! It’s pretty packed when we get there but we only have to wait a few mins before we are seated. Once we get our table I look around and tell Leo that it’s pretty packed, unlike the last time we were there. He gives the place a look around and loudly says, “At least we didn’t get stuck in the HONKEY section!” and points to the other side of the resaurant with his thumb! He is MUY funny that Leo is! I order a beer but Leo declines, explaining that he still had a full beer in the car from the parking lot binge. Guess he had to hide one because they kept coming at us at an alcoholics pace. He order us our food, because I don’t know what to get there and Leo knows the menu, when I see this cop walk in with two girls and sits at the table near us. The cop looks like a hispanic Ving Rhames and looks like his face isn’t made for smiling. If that wasn’t bad enough I give the girls the once over and realize they are WHORES! Really! Amazed I whisper to Leo that the cop brought in two whores and for him to confirm it. Maybe it was the beer, I don’t know? But Leo lost all comprehension of discretion and turns around like C-3po to have a look. He turns back around and agrees with me. They were gross whores too! One was this little mexican girl who looked like she didn’t really want to be there. The one that did seem like she wanted to be there was wearing this tight red one piece dress that made her figure look like a stocking filled with chewed bubble gum! Her body was loose and gross and her big spreader ass was covering the whole seat! We both cringe, but I wanted to know what Ving was doing with these whores?! Uncle Leo says most cops cruise their whores around in plain clothes so he was a bit surprised that this cop was in uniform. I was just surprised that he was with WHORES! AYE CARUMBA! I snapped a picture of them at the table so if anyone wants to see them just send me an e-mail.

Over all the day was pretty eventful and definitley better than a day spent in the O.C. Who gets to eat a fine home cooked meal, catch a Dodger game, people watch, drink beers like they were water, have a pretty lady bounce around in your lap and watch a cop eat delicious chinese food with real live WHORES! It was new to me!I drove Leo home then headed back to the CASA DE BARRON and called it a night…after calling some WHORES over for some breakfast! Just kidding…

HAPPY CINCO DE MAYO!

DJB

*UPDATE* - It's been requested that I post the picture of the cop and WHORES and I think I've finally figured out how. Enjoy!

DJB

New Skids on the Block...

2005-04-13T12:25:00.000-07:00

Tuesdays evenings are usually my favorite evenings during the entire week, and for only one reason. Taco Tuesday at Del Taco. After making a pact with the Devil, Del Taco has a deal where on Tuesdays you can gorge yourself with tacos at the low low price of 3 for 99 cents! I LOVE these fuggin tacos! They aren't really that big and there isn't much to them, but my my are they tasty. I usually eat a small lunch on these days so I can shove these little morsels into my gullet one after the other. The most I've consumed in one visit is 12, but I know I can tear up more than that. It may seem like a lot of tacos to feast on, but they are pretty small and can be eaten in two bites.

Although this day is like a weekly Christmas for me, it comes at a price. I have what my doctor calls a "stressed" stomach which means I when I get stressed out my stomach gets upset and if I've just eaten I'm a ticking time bomb. I can't even have breakfast most mornings because my stomach gets cramped up. Shit, I can't even drink water first thing in the morning! Sometimes it's just cramps, sometimes I have to do "#2". I can only eat so many fooods with out having to run to the crapper and Del Taco tacos rarely stay for more than an hours visit, but sometimes they spend the night. This is why I usually only partake in taco Tuesday if I'm going home after work.

Yesterday was your typical shitty day at work and Taco Tuesday was the only pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for me. I hadn't slept too good the night before so by the time the work day was done I was beat, AND I was starving! On the way home I go through the drive thru and order 9 tacos (for only $! CHA-CHING!) I get home, do the usual things people do when they get home from work, then I settle down with my tacos and plenty of Del Scorcho sauce. When I'm done eating I play with my dogs for a bit and figure I should take a little nap to regroup. After about 45mins of sleep (the dogs took a nap too) we all get up and I do a small bit of chores, then watch some stimulating intellectual television. I believe the shows were: American Idol/My wife and kids, George Lopez, Scrubs and The Office. After watching these shows I get a little "rumble in the jungle" and go TCB. Turns out it was only a little gas and I was fine. I was even a bit surprised that the tacos had sat well the whole night? It was money well spent.

It's a little after 10pm and I get my boys ready to go for a walk. I usually go for walks pretty late because I don't like people around when I go out. When I go late it's like I have the night all to myself and with the cool evening breeze followed up with the mellow glow of the street lights it's quite tranquil. Seeing as how my dogs are a Bassett Hound and a Beagle, these walks take forever because they have to sniff every little fucking thing that God has created! They get pretty excited when it's time for their walks and since it's good exercise for all of us I usually take a route that adds up to over an hour out on the streets. The route I take is cool because it goes through the neighborhood that consists of nice old houses, huge trees in almost every yard and dim lit streets. TiVo my beagle if a pushy lazy ass and likes to trot along the walks while trying to take charge by sitting if he feels tired. I've tried to take him jogging with me, but he ain't having it. He trotted about a block before he just said fuck it and laid down on a patch of grass...fat ass. Malcolm the Bassett Hound on the other hand LOVES to go for walks and even runs some of the time, since he has little legs though it isn't like TiVo and I have to run to keep up with him. If anything it turns into a speed walk. I admire the little hombre though because he has a gimp front let that looks like a 4 inch boomerang, which makes him fall on his face if he gets overzealous, but still runs with excitement. Unlike that little fat ass TiVo.

I grab my MP3 player, put the dogs in their harnesses and leashes and awaaay we go! The night is cool and the boys are walking like they own the neighborhood. As we're walking they start their business of smelling every damn blade of grass we walk by. I don't get why they constantly do this considering we take the same fucking route when we go walking?! Malcolm stops all of the sudden and it jerks my arm hard enough that it smarts. I turn to see what his problem is but he starts running and we continue to walk. In my peripheral vision I can see him shaking his head like he was at a Ozzy Osbourne concert. "What hell are you doing?" I scowl at him, but he just keeps going. TiVo could care less about all this and pretty much keeps to himself. Finally he gets on my nerves and I bend down to see what his problem is. Like I said it's pretty dimly lit on these streets so I have to get pretty close to the kid to see what his deal is! As I lean down I grab his head, he shakes me off, I grab it again and see the idiot has a huge feather in his mouth and was shaking it around to show it's who's boss. Man these fuckers get on my nerves sometimes. I throw it in a random yard and give his leash a little tug as if to say "let's go", TiVo seems amused that Malcolm is in trouble and trots along like he's some little angel. Fucker. We continue our walk and I'm starting to get pissed because they will not stop sniffing everything and it's taking forever for our trek to end! This was the worst I've seen them act and I swear they were just fucking with me! I start to get more pissed off when all of the sudden I feel a baby kick in my belly! "Oh shit" I think to myself, not now. It doesn't get too bad and I end up turning off my radio so I can squeak out a fart without making it too loud, all while looking around for people who might hear me. Even though there was no one around I still look at the dogs like they did it and I was grossed out. I felt a little bit better and talk myself down from a cramped up stomach. A couple of blocks later it kicks in again. I let out a little machine gun series of farts and then realize those were my spacers! Spacers are the farts that take up the space between a turd and your butthole, the more you fart, the closer the turd gets to being released. C'mon, we've all dealt with spacers so don't get all uppity and act grossed out. Anywho, I realized I am now on poo patrol and at the halfway mark of our walk. No matter what I was still a ways from my apt. and would have to take the simple path home...quickly. I start to walk and this time I just charge ahead without letting the dogs smell anything.

With quick long strides I am power walking down the streets and even TiVo is moving his little legs like a champ while Malcolm runs along side of me. "FUURT" a spacer fart slips out and I can feel the sweat start to form on my forehead. I had to hurry or else there would be a terrible ASSPLOSION! I tug the leashes a little more and start to walk faster, all while thinking "okay, not far to go. You can make it, just don't fart anymore! You only got half a spacer left." I'm starting to feel a little guilty because I can see both dogs panting because they've never had this hard of a work out. I'm only about 8 blocks away and the cramps are getting worse when all of the sudden "blurb blurp" I lose my last spacer. Next time wouldn't be so friendly. Sweat is running down my temples and back as panic starts to set in. There was no way I could shit myself, I was wearing shorts! Should I knock on someone's door? Should I duck in dark spot in someone's yard and then run when I was finished? What would I do with the dogs?! There was no easy way out, I had to get HOME! The pudding was about to pop and even the dogs could tell that daddy had to make a boo boo! I was so proud of them for not giving me any hassles and scurrying as fast as they could I was wondering what kind of fitting reward I would give them.

Only 3 more blocks to go and the front of my shirt was soaked with what looked like a Superman emblem in the front but was actually a sweat spot on my chest. The turd was barely keeping itself hidden now and my ass felt like when you have a mouth full of soda then all of the sudden someone makes you laugh and you don't want to spit it out. Thinking I should jog the rest of the way, I start to shuffle into a run and instantly realize that was a bid idea. It felt like I was trying to shake chili out of a can. "C'mon Damon, you can make it" I think to myself with panic. Malcolm is running with so much gusto now that I can feel his tongue hitting my leg as it hangs out of his mouth. I get to the corner of my street grabbing both leashes with one hand as I shove my free sweaty hand into my pocket to get my keys. If I tripped and fell I would have had the ass of my boxers filled with brownie mix so I walked as fast as possible. I open the gate and break into a sprint down the hall leading to my apartment. I COULDN'T HOLD IT ANY LONGER! I HAD TO MAKE IT!!!! In one jabbing motion I make the key dead center into the key hole and turn it, opening the door. I slam the door behind me, throw the leashes down with one hand and start pulling my shorts down with the other! I run full speed to the bathroom and of all days I leave the toilet seat down! I frantically fumble with the seat and I can feel the start of something evil coming! I have my pants down now and whip around to sit down and let her blow! I'm not even seated down all the way when I feel the gust of chili (with no beans) blast out of my brown star with so much power I thought it might shoot through the porcelain! I settle in my seat and with all the adrenaline I had built up to getting to that moment I thought I was going to puke. This was the most violent visit to the water gardens I've ever had and didn't know I wronged so bad that they wished this on me. I'm not going to lie it STUNK and I had to open the door to keep from passing out. Even the dogs stood at the door way and then turned away after they were hit with the funk! Panting with exhaustion I finish up my bitness and don't move from my seat, probably from shock. I looked up cursing God while shaking my fist at the sky, then I wiped the sweat from my already damp scalp and forehead.

I was there for a good half hour before I finally had the strength to get up, but it felt like forever. I changed t-shirts and then buckled on the floor next to the dogs and expressed as much love as I could in appreciation for their awesome team work. I gave them each fists full of meaty bones and watched them devour them with a smile of pride on my face. I had a few more "visits" to the bathroom that night, but they were nothing like the one that felt like the gates of hell were opening up in my ass. I swore that night that I was never ever going to eat at that fucking Del Taco again! It's only Wednesday though so we'll see what happens next week.

Hey, at least I didn't shit in a fucking bucket!

DJB

Bad Boys, Bad Boys, Watchoo Gonna do...

2005-04-08T13:12:00.000-07:00

I figure since the Pope has gone on to reap the fruits of his labor I should post a story that involves a religious holiday. Sort of.

Family functions have never really been my cup of tea, even worse were STEP-family functions! At least at family functions you were miserable at the same table for dinner, or in the same room sitting around each other. Actually it was my step-mookie's family functions that sucked the veins out of a penis, although there were about 3 people in her family that must have been adopted because they were as cool as the ice age. SOOO, Step-family functions were bullshit! Up until I was about 16 my sisters and I were always banished to sit in the kitchen with the "kids." Now these were the full blooded "family" kids and the closest one to the age of me and my sisters was about...oh...7! Must I even mention that after 16 I boycotted going to step-family functions? I thought not.

My moms family were usually the ones I spent most holiday's with. Most of the time I would go to these with my cousin Philly Blunts because we were tighter than a dolphins butthole, usually finding ways to entertain ourselves and others when put in boring situations. Mostly ourselves though. You'd think that my mothers family would be a hoot to hang with just from the looks of them, but oh no! The only regular ones, well - from my standards at least, were my uncle Leo, me Mum, Grandy Gram Grandma (not the shit bucket one), my sisters and one or two rarely seen cousins. The others looked like someone shook out a carnival tent in the house. I'd get into details but it'd take longer than my usual diatribes. Here's a quick rundown: some cousins were "braniacs" who never really knew anything except what chat rooms were good to meet obese girls in. One aunt thought that erections were made just for her because every guy got one when they met her! I think this had something to do with her mannish chubby body, know it all attitude, lack of a secure job and sexy ass mustache. ME-OW! Another aunt was cool when we were kids and hopelessly pathetic when we were adults. She was the "baby" of the family and never paid a bill with her own money in her life, yet she was always depressed and moochie. Both aunts LOVED going to the renaissance faire and even worked there for kicks! The uncles consisted of one white trash drunk who wore aviator style eye-glasses like the ones Jeffrey Dahmer sports in his photo's, plus he drank like a fish. Another uncle was a Vietnam vet so this gave him the right to treat me like I was a total idiot who would never last in "the shit", nor the real world. He was also built like a snowman with the middle ball missing. There were others, but this is the bulk of the misery.

When we were kids it always seemed blissful to go to Grandma's house for holidays. For some reason as we get older our insight matures as well and things turn to shit. We all knew we had nothing in common, but no one ever wanted to admit it. My cousin and I knew perfectly well that our family was as entertaining as watching a cow eat so when we got older booze and joints were a must have before stepping into the octagon. For some odd reason the family LOVED when we would get plowed! It provided some form of entertainment I guess?

One special Easter Sunday it was time to go to Grandma's house for a tortureous holiday gathering. Trust me, if Jesus had to go to my Grandma's house for Easter even HE would have said "screw it" and saved his resurrection for another day. I was barely 16 and Philly Blunts was 19, but we were very mature for our age. So mature that during this time we had purchased a nickel plated B.B. gun because 1) it was cheap 2) it cocked like a gun 3) Richard Grieco used one like it on his hit show "Booker"! We would drive around town shooting cats (THAT'S RIGHT! I HATE CATS!!) and random targets. We were so into this B.B. gun that we made sure it made it's way to the Easter extravaganza. We also had a more powerful B.B. rifle that couldn't be left behind either. It was a no brainer that things would get so boring that we would need to shoot up cans and cats at some point of the visit.

Grandma lived in La Puente, and if you can't figure it out from the name alone...it's pretty much a ghetto. The houses and neighborhood were probably the picture of suburban living in the 50's, but the 50's were long ago. Now the neighborhood was filled with homies, cha cha girls and anyone who just arrived from Mexico. My Grandmothers street seemed to have the best La Puente had to offer. On one side of my Grandmothers house were a family we lovingly called "The Cooties." Now this isn't a name us kids made up, no, this name was given by our parents...when THEY were kids! The one thing I can say our family unanimously agreed on was that we hated The Cooties! They were your normal Mariachi music blasting Mexican family and it was pretty obvious they hated us for generations too. I always wondered if they had a nickname for our family? The other side of my Granny's house was filled with what was safe to assume were illegal aliens. This house was HORRIBLE! It was very similar to the house that the kids meet their demise in from "the Blair Witch Project." The front yard looked like it was the victim of a mushroom cloud explosion and the back yard looked like it's where all the rubble landed. The residents of this wondrous property were spilling out of the windows because there were so many of them. So many in fact that my Grandmother told me she saw the oldest lady walk out the kitchen door, squat, pull her dress up to her knees and proceeded to sprinkle the lawn with sweet sweet urine! Ah, viva la raza. Enough about the neighborhood, you get the point.

Once we get to Grandmaster Flash's house we give our greetings and do what other people do at these things...EAT! This was one of the only perks of family functions. No matter how much people hate each other or how boring you know things will be, people always know that good food will take the edge off. Easter guaranteed a ham and mashed potatoes would be there, along with pastries of some sort and plenty of it! So we feasted like Kings...then we got bored.

Knowing we had the guns in the car my cousin and I give each other "the nod". After thinking about it a while we decided that shooting B.B. guns there at the house would only invite my goofy cousins to join in which would probably bring us down like the WTC. Lucky for us my grandmother lived around the corner from an elementary school. We excuse ourselves from the suare' (to be honest I don't know what reason we gave for leaving, but we left) and jump in my cousins van and head for the school.

On the way there we discussed what kind of rootin tootin fun we could have. The sky pretty much told us our time was limited so we had to think of something quick. I think my cousin came up with the genius idea, I just got excited at the prospect of it. The idea you ask? Well, we figured why waste our time sitting around shooting targets when we could just shoot at each other?! Yeah that's right EACH OTHER! Pretty good huh? It was a better plan than when we thought it would be fun to throw firecrackers at each other. I almost blew a finger off and Philly Blunts tossed one about an inch from my ear when it blew up. Yes, B.B. guns would be much safer. We both wore glasses so our eyes would be safe at least.

With lightning speed my cousin pulls into the school parking lot and we can't wait to let the games begin. First we needed to lay down some ground rules, after all, we were adults! Rule #1) NO SHOOTING IN THE FACE! Rule #2) NO PUMPING THE RIFLE MORE THAN 3 TIMES! This rule was made because the pistol had limited power and could barley shoot through a can. The rifle on the other hand could shoot straight through a can! Those were all the rules we needed, now we had to decide who got which gun. Smart money says you should go for the rifle, but idiots who are about to shoot each other go for the nickel plated "Booker" pistol! There was no doubt you'd look cooler running around with a pistol than a rifle, so it was a pretty easy choice. My cousin pulled rank though and shattered my dreams of getting all 21 Jumpstreet on his ass! Rules and guns were set, now it was go time!

We walk into the quad of the school and it's a shooters paradise. All around there are trees and plenty of brick walls to hide behind. Fluorescent lights lit up the corners of the quad so seeing your target would be a cinch. Not having even been in the quad 5 mins. we look at each other, then break out running from each other not knowing who would shoot first! As I'm running with my back to my cousin I hear him cock his gun and it makes me get that feeling in my stomach like I was dropping down a roller coaster. We are both laughing and I duck behind a tree. I'm about to look around it to see where my cousin is hiding when WHACK! I hear a B.B. hit the tree! I laugh out loud and I sit back behind the tree. ONE, TWO, THREE I quickly count in my head as I pump the air rifle. I cock a B.B. into the chamber and start my retaliation. I run around the corner of a brick wall and as I'm running I could hear B.B. flying around me along with the sound of my cousin rapidly cocking the pistol. Philly Blunts was no slacker with a B.B. pistol, he was definitely someone to be reckoned with and I had to be quick. Holding the rifle upright against my chest and the barrel pointed to the sky listening for the sounds of him shuffling around. I turn the corner and see him trying to run behind a tree and I shoot! MISS! DAMMIT! I blew the shot! As I fuming with anger I feel a sting in my leg and jump around and then behind another brick wall. I was hit! I had to get him back, the fucker! I cock the gun again and rush out to the battle field. This time I run closer and he's laughing hysterically while he runs from me. PHWACK! I shoot wildly and hit him in the arm! "AAAAAH!", he yells and I start convulsing with laughter as I run for cover! We were even now.

The shooting went on for a good half hour and we both shot each other up pretty good. It was starting to get dark and even though the outside lights were on, it was gonna be hard to see each other soon. I see my cousin behind a wall while I'm hiding behind a tree when all the sudden we both jump out from our hiding spaces to face each other western style. My gun goes off first but only by seconds, then I hear a shot followed by a hot sting above my cheek just below my eye. Now, I know my cousin was probably flinching as much as I was when he shot, but he still shot me in the face. I put my hand up to my cheek and touch the hot stinging spot on my face while staring at my cousin in shock. He starts to walk towards me and it had gotten so quiet I could hear every twig snap as he approached. He has a look of shock on his face too and has his gun to his side. Neither one of us has said a word yet and I'm just standing there leering at my cousin while touching my slightly bleeding wound. My cousin, only a couple of feet ahead of me now (still with his gun to his side) raises his eyebrows and shoulders while making a face that says "oopsie!" as he sees my wound is bleeding. It was only a small trickle of blood, if that, but when he made that face I knew what I had to do. Something must have clicked in my cousin's head too because he stopped in his tracks looking at me. "WE SAID NO SHOOTING IN THE FACE!", I exclaim, "now I get to shoot you!" I quickly start to pump away at the gun with furious speed. Philly Blunts could tell by the speed I was pumping I wasn't going to stop at 3, and he was right. "...5, 6, 7" I count in my head while staring at my cousin. He turns on his heels and start to run like he was running for his life! "...9, 10!!!" I lift the stock of the gun to my shoulder and take aim. Running away from me at full speed I focus on my cousins back...and FIRE! His arms flail up in the air as he screams "OWWW!" The sight of this just cracks me up and I start laughing so hard there is no sound coming out of my mouth. "There! Now we're even!" I tell him.
"Fuck that hurt! How many times did you pump it?!"
"10"
"Wha! Damn, that was way harder than the B.B. I hit you with" and he starts rubbing the small of his back. He lifts his shirt and tells me to take a look. After I catch a glimpse of my handy-work I again fold over with laughter. Right in the small of his back was a purple little circle with a spot of blood in the middle. My cousin gripes a little more, then we laugh it off and decide to head home because it was already dark, not to mention Easter was still going on at Grandma's.

Walking side by side out of the quad while cracking ourselves up telling each other our favorite highlights of the shoot out we see a car with really bright headlights coming towards us. We were just barely towards the front of the school near the parking lot when the car drives over the curb and onto the grass while still charging our way.
"Who the hell is that?" I say
"Maybe it's uncle Leo?", replies Philly Blunts while squinting through the lights trying to identify the driver.
"Dunno, but they're coming pretty fast"

The car stops about 20 feet in front of us and a flood light on the drivers side comes on almost blinding us. With posture like two Velociraptors and still holding our guns like Hill Billy's protecting our land, we continue to "walk towards the light" with looks of curiosity on our faces. Suddenly the passenger and drivers side doors fly open as two men charge out and yell to us "DROP YOUR GUNS!" Now the average Joe would instantly drop their guns without question, not us though, we were grown ass men! We take a couple more steps towards these mystery men as I mutter "wha... who are they" to Philly Blunts. After our next few steps we finally see through the glare of their blazing lights and notice they are both holding guns...and have them pointed right at us! Now in our defense these guys never identified themselves so how were we supposed to know who they were? "DROP YOUR DAMN GUNS!" They command us once again. This time we drop our guns and my cousin yells "they're just B.B. guns!" but I think the comment was moot by this point. As soon as the guns hit the floor the cops are on us a like a horny puppy grabs a leg. I get man handled a bit and then thrown to the ground. My cousin joins me a few seconds later then the cops yell for us to put our hands out in front of us and proceed to frisk us. Again we tell the swine that we just had B.B. guns, not real guns, but they seem deaf to our explanations. I don't know about Philly Blunts, but my cop was a little bit on the rough side and I practically have my face in the dirt. I wish I could say we were cool as cucumbers during this whole scenario, but to be honest we just had expressions on our faces like we were kids who heard thunder for the first time.

One cop stands in front of us, gun still drawn and pointed at us, when he tells the other pig "go check it out. I got them covered." Things must have been pretty tame that Easter for these gun toting bastards to act like they just caught Carmen Sandiego or something. The other cop heads for the quad, mag-light blaring while his other hand rests on the handle of his gun in the holster. My cousin and I look at each other as if to say "huh?" What did they think we were doing. We hear our captors walkie talkie squeak out "it's clean, there's nothing here", or whatever tough cop dialogue they gawk to each other, and Piggy McCopper tells up to stand up. Cop #2 walks back out towards us and we are put up against the cop car as Cop #1 picks up our guns. With a confidence that says "we cracked the case" Pig #1 tells Pig #2, "They're just B.B. guns." WHA?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME! This guy was an effing genius! Cop #2, who was in charge of my cousin, picks up the "Booker" pistol, examines it, then whistles and shakes his head a couple of times.
"Why didn't you guys drop your guns when we told you?"
"Well, we didn't know who you were? We just saw you driving up?"
"You know you two almost got shot!"
"um...yeah?"
"Where do you two live!"
"In Anaheim, but my Grandmother lives around the corner. We're at her house for Easter" my cousin explains
"Do you know how stupid it is to walk around with guns at an elementary school?!"
(Yes we did officer, but we were at a family function!) "Sorry, we were just shooting at each other? Not any windows or anything" I say, like that would be the smart statement that made us look like champs.
"Why don't you two go on back to your Grandmothers house"
This is where the our grown up skills kick in "Officer, can we have our guns back?" my cousin asks.
"...I should confiscate these from you two and make you come to the station to get them!" he preaches as he hands them back, "now go home"

With shame on our shoulders we hunch over and walk back to my cousins van. We buckle up while watching the cops pull off the lawn onto the street and drive away into the night. We were pretty quiet for a couple of seconds on the ride back to hell house when I break the silence with "DUUUDE! WE ALMOST GOT FUCKING SHOT! HOLY SHIT!" My cousin gets a big Cheshire cat grin on his face and hunches over while snickering with hysteria. "OH MAN! I didn't even know who the fuck they were when they pulled up!", he laughs out to me.
"No shit! I thought it was Uncle Leo or something!"
"Did you see when he picked up my "Booker gun?"
"Yeah, he was checking it out and then whistled because it looked real!" tee hee hee.

We continue to relive the moment all the way back to Grandma's house. When we walk into the front door everyone looks at us and someone asks "where were you two?"
"SHEEE-IT! We were at the school almost getting shot by cops!", I answer
"Yeah, we were just roughed up by the fuzz", Philly Blunts chimes in.
With a look of confusion and disbelief on their faces we tell the tale of the incident to the family. I think my older sister chimed in with something supportive like "You guys are idiots!" or something like that, while the other just shook their heads. My Grandmother was the only one who seemed sincerely amused by the whole incident and took in every word of our tale. She even laughed! We didn't care if the family thought we were idiots, we were too impressed with the fact that we "didn't" get shot that it just rolled off our backs when they shot us looks of shame. Years later we would find out that the family, with the exception of those mentioned earlier, thought we were indeed idiots and vocalized this to each other. Recently my mother confessed that they used to say "we worry about Phil and Damon. Man, those two...umph!" As if to say we were barely above the level of retarded. Oh well, we don't see much of them anymore so it doesn't really matter now. But that's another story for another time.

So how does this apply to the pope and religion? Well, if Jesus never got up and rolled that damn boulder out of the way to leave his cave and get his basket of chocolate bunnies and peeps then we'd never have Easter! If we didn't have Easter then we wouldn't have had to go to my Grandmother's house that day. If we hadn't gone to her house that day then we'd never have been roughed up by the fuzz. Finally, if there was no fuzz, then there'd be not action packed story for you to read! See, it's just that simple. Thank GOD for Easter!

DJB

Lucy in the Sky with Damon...

2005-04-06T20:37:00.000-07:00

Acid. What a crazy drug this is. It's been around longer than I have, even longer than my parents. It's been written about in books for decades and even pops up in movies now and then. The beat generation dabbled in it, as well as dead heads, yuppies, perverts, kids, and basically any human who walks the earth. Even to this day the youth of today is discovering it for the first time, except now it is probably reaching the level of passe and considered "old school." There is plenty of nastier shit out there these days to fuck people up and for good! Schools taught you that it could make you kill your family, jump off buildings with delusions that you could fly, make you think you were a big orange and couldn't move. If you took it more than 4 times you were considered legally insane! Maybe it did these things for some, but not this little tiger...well,kind of. Whatever.

My first experiment with this mind altering wonder took place at a friends party when I was 17, still in high school and living at home. The cats name was Brian and his parents lived in the black hill mountains of south Dakota with a young boy named Rocky Racoooon-ah! Just kidding. He lived up in the hills of Upland though. Upland as I might have mentioned before was pretty durn close to Mt. Baldy. The posh houses were right up in hills on your way to Baldy. Brian's house was HUGE and his back yard was just as spacious. What made it even better to hang out at night was the huge fire-pit in the back patio. I can remember drinking many-o beer by the circle of fire that lit all our young faces orange late into the night. Another example of how huge the back yard was is that he had peacocks running around it? Really, who has peacocks just running around their yards?

At one party at Brian's house Jason and I showed up kind of late and the fun had already started. There were tons of people walking around, in and out of his house, circling the fire-pit and such. People I knew greeted us and those we didn't still gave a chipper "Hey" and a head nod. We grab our plastic cups and head towards the keg to catch up. After a bit I hear one of these damn peacock, but I don't see it? I start operation FIND THAT DAMN BIRD, by myself, and start to walk around the back yard. The bird is making a noise so loud it almost sounds like a person yelling. I'm just about to give up my search when I turn around and see this little dirt head guy walking towards me.

I didn't know this guy, but he was small and looked like he couldn't decide if he wanted to be a hippie or not? "Hey man, what's up?"
"Hey"
"What's up, my name is -----?" (shit, it was a long time ago? How am I supposed to remember?)
"Hey, I'm Damon" Insert hand shake here
"What're you doing?" he even looks a bit puzzled. Now I'm just bout to tell him, but think better of it. I'm sure "trying to find that damn peacock" might have made plenty of sense to the little burn-out, but why test it. "Nothing" is all I had for him.
"Hey man, I got some acid if you want to score some?"
"Oh...uh...really?" Now I had never taken acid before, plus we all know the story of the girl who took it, tripped out hard, ran around like a maniac and mistook the cops for gorilla's as they started to chase her. I pondered this all for a second as I rubbed my chin with my head cocked and looked to the sky for no reason. "Sure, how much?"

After my purchase I was so excited I ran up to Jason and showed it to him, looking like a kid who just caught a lady bug and was showing it to his parents. "Whaaat?! Are you going to take it?" "YEAH!", I exclaim, "What do you think?!" I then popped the little speck of square paper into my mouth and waited for the magic to come.

I continued to drink some beers and every once in a while I would wave my hand in front of my face. Nothing. I was starting to feel a little bummed and ripped off...of a whole whopping $5! I finally stand up to walk into the house to squirt the squirrel. As I'm walking I feel a little bit of butterflies in my stomach and realize I'm smirking for no reason. I get to the bathroom, take care of business and head back outside. All while smirking. I get caught up noticing things in the house and start to walk into the living room. I casually look around like I'm a fucking property inspector and notice this HOT chick lying on her stomach with her shirt off in front of the fire place. There is a guy sitting on her ass and rubbing her shoulders. It was a very surreal thing to see when your caught off guard...and tripping the light fantastic! I suddenly apologize and turn on my heels when they yell for me to come back. "Hey guy, it's cool" the guy tells me while his lady friend just smiles at me while resting her head on her folded arms. I don't know why that seemed to make me feel at ease, but it did so I just walked in and sat in a wing back chair off to the side.

I don't recall what their names were but instantly they started shooting the breeze with me. Turned out it was Brian's older brother and some floozie he was seeing. Now being the youngster I was I would have thought any chick with her top off was beautiful, but this girl actually was. Ravishing if you will. We start talking about the party and how I knew his brother, the usual b.s., yet the girl never really utters an effing word? She just lied there looking at me, not in a disturbing way but in a way that seemed like she was neither interested, nor uninterested in talking to me. During some of the conversation Brian's brother would grab a bottle of lotion, squirt it into his hand and proceed to rub it into the little Lolita's shoulders. Again, I don't know why I put myself in this situation, but there I was. Oh wait! That's right, the LSD might have been the reason! Oopsie.

The conversation kind of winds down and I just sit in the chair feeling like I was really small and the chair was really huge. I then starting thinking about how I probably looked like a toddler who was set in the chair for time-out because I was acting up.
"Damon...DAMON!"
"Huh?" I reply, snapping out of my drug induced day dream.
"I said I really have to take a piss and was wondering if you could take over for me?"
"Um...take over what?", surely he couldn't be talking about what I thought he was talking about?
"C'mon man. Could you just take over giving her a back rub for me? I have to take a leak and my hands are tired..."
Now all of the sudden the girl was STARING at me with a hint of amusement and non chalance. The only thing that would process in my mind at first was "FUCK THIS ACID IS FUCKING WITH ME! This is not happening!" I look at the brother and say, "are you serious? You want me to sit on your girl and rub her back for you?"
"Yeah, it's cool, I trust you"
"I don't even know you OR HER!"
"You going to do it or not? I really have to piss?" Now the girl is giving me a flustered look that says "c'mon guy! make up your mind!" and I stand up. I pretty much did a really slow version of the Purina Cat Chow (chow chow chow) not really sure if I should stay or run out? I go for the latter and say "I'll be right back" as I scamper out of the room and house.

Not really sure what the fuck is going on I sit at the fire pit by everyone. All guys. "Where the hell have you been?" Jason asks me. "Yeah. Well, uh...I've been sitting in the house talking to Brian's brother and some hot chick who's topless"
Everyone seems caught of guard by this and immediately hammers me with questions. "What? Are you serious" "is she really hot" "what the fuck are you doing out here then?!" "Your a fucking liar" and any other questions or statements young dip shit guys ask when boobies come into a conversation. There is one kid especially who has millions of question, and he asks them all with a panting perverted fervor that makes me sick. I hated this fucker already and him knowing this chunk of knowledge made me hate him more.

A little about this guy. His name is Matt Wenger and unbeknownst to him we all secretly called him "Baby Huey" or "Cuddles." The reason he was labled these names is because he was over 6ft tall, covered with freckles, had obnoxious red hair, chubby with a droopy belly and a round cherub face. If he met a girl, he would lay it down so thick 90% of the girls were repulsed by him, yet he would be so smothering and never take the hint, thus making him even more disturbing. Even if she was your girlfriend he was still pursuant. If he couldn't score with the girl he would settle for being their sensitive guy friend who they could talk to with any problem they had. Years later he would still be creepy and live with one of his friends...and the friends wife!

Cuddles wants to get down to the bottom of my story and tells everyone they should go inside and see what's doing! When I see Big Red get that horny puppy look in his eyes while the glow of the fire-pit dances on his freckled face I knew he didn't care if everyone went with him or not, he was going in. Jason, Cuddles, myself and a few others decide to go in. I lead the way to the living room hoping the couple was just fooling with me, had a good laugh when I left and took off somewhere. Nope, they were still there, as if they were waiting for my return. Now I felt like a big drugged up asshole for coming back with an entourage. Once everyone piled into the room they just stood around in an uncomfortable silence. I sat back in my chair and just look at all the drooling gentlemen absorbing the situation. Especially cuddles.

Brian's brother makes some small talk, but in that uninterested "I don't have time for you kids" manner. It seems like the fellas realize this is going nowhere and are about to leave disappointed when cuddles chimes in with "HEY! You look kind of tuckered out, if you want I could take over for you!" WHAT?! You fat fucking retard! What are you doing?! I think to myself and throw him the stink eye.
"No guy, I don't think so"
"Oh, you sure?", but he didn't need a reply. He knew it was a stupid question. He looks down into his plastic cup with a sad clown face, turns and walks out of the room.

Now I feel guilty and try to give some lame excuse for bringing those fucker in with me. "Hey, sorry about that? I just went out for some fresh air and they followed me in. Especially that fat fucker. I hate him you know"
"Don't sweat it. Sooo, you wa..."
"Cool, I just...I'm sorry what?"
"You going to take over or what?"
"Oh no, I can't" after this statement the little harlot chimes in with her 2 cents.
"Why not? I don't mind. Are you gay or something?" she asks
"NOOO! I'm not gay! It's just, kind of weird?"
Now she is smiling at me, but in a perverted, yet sweet way.
"Are you scared? You don't have to sit on top of me if you don't want. You can sit to the side, c'mon..."
"Uh... Trust me, I would LOVE to and I think your hot and all...it's just" Now I wasn't lying, I really wanted to cave in and rub her like I was washing a car, but the acid was kicking in harder now and the situation was already bizarre.
"Damon. Just do it, he doesn't mind..."
"Yeah, I'm getting tired", Brian's brother reminds me
"He's getting tired and I still want my back rubbed"
"Ha!..naw, I can't" At this point I'm shaking my head like that retarded vulture in those looney tune cartoons.
"Thanks anyway, I think I'm going to go back outside" I get out of the chair to leave and this girl is really seducing me with her gaze so I quickly look down at my shoes, wave bye-bye and walk out while meekly saying "it was nice meeting you".

By the time I get to the kitchen I feel like a total loser. Here was this hot, beautiful WOMAN! Not girl, but WOMAN, begging me to rub her down. She wasn't telling me to go for a poke in the woods or anything, just a nice lotion enhanced rub down...and I run out like a little girl. This was ludicrous! WHAT AM I THINKING! I close my eyes and build up the courage and nerve to go back and accept their offer. With a hearty amount of false bravado I walk into the room and I'm about to blurt out "Alright you crazy kids! You got me! I'll do it!" but there was no one there? I turn around like a kid lost in the mall and see no sign of them. Where'd they go? Damn, this acid is some good shit! Maybe I imagined the whole thing. I start to snicker to myself and walk back out.

Like a pack of wild dogs waiting for me to throw some meat scraps my buddies are waiting for me to speak. I don't say anything, I just sit and watch the dancing of the fire in the pit. Fed up with my silence they bombard me with more questions. In typical Jason form his first question is "did she suck your dick?" This is Jason's favorite question and I would find out many years later that he will ask that question before anything else. Even now, regardless of the fact that he is married, a father and a teacher, he will still ask me this no matter what. "Jason, I got into a fiery crash and hit some lady with my car" "Really?! Did she suck your dick? Are you alright?" "Man Jason, I just broke up with my girlfriend and she was pretty upset with me" "Did she suck your dick? What did she say?" His wife even knows this is his M.O. yet it never bothers him. Anywayoffbase, I tell them I was propositioned again when everyone walked out and like before I scurried off like a shameful critter. I get the usual berating chimes of "AWWW" and "WHAAT?!" followed up with a couple of "what a fag" and "total idiot's" sprinkled in for good measure.

Shamed and still ready to peak on my acid, Jason and I head home. I casually cruise into my house and I can feel the shame being taken over by the euphoria of LSD. No one is awake and I quickly head to my room and shut the door. Now I'm consumed with giggles as I recount the events of the evening and keep walking in circles with boths hands on my head chanting "oh my god!" Once I had a little quiet time it seemed the acid was taking a whole new stage and I was willingly let it take me over. Immediately I get my Beatles White Album out and set it to play Revolution #9 on continuous repeat. I had read somewhere that Revolution #9 was THE song to play while tripping so I had to hear it. Turns out it's true! I don't know how many times I sat there listening to every word of that pointless song and laughing silently and hysterically to myself. Sometimes I would be caught up in laughter then I would just stop abruptly because I would here a voice or sound I'd never heard before. The acid was working full steam ahead and I loved every second of it. I got the idea to draw a picture and drew this picture of John Lennon from some Sergeant Pepper poster I had on my wall. When that was finished I got the idea to take the black marker and draw little doodles on my hand. I don't really recall everything else I did but I was up for a while before I finally got to sleep in the early a.m.

The worst part about that night was I had to work the next day so I had to wake up early. I worked in a ladies shoe store in the mall (during the hey day of Married with Children of course. So please, save the Al Bundy jokes, I've heard them all) and it required me to wear a shirt and tie as well as looking nicely groomed. I had even cut my long hair to work there! My alarm clock goes off and I swore I had just shut my peepers for only a second! Feeling a little disoriented I slide out of bed and shuffle off to the bathroom to take a shower. Grinning to myself on the walk to the bathroom I reflect on the random night I had just had. Once in the bathroom I reach into the shower to turn on the water and realize I had lines and squiggles all over my arm. I laughed a bit at the stupidity of it and start to undress. Facing the bathroom mirror I peel off my t-shirt and casually look at my reflection. WHAT-THE-FUCK!!? As I dropped my shirt in shock I stare at my reflection in disbelief! All over my upper body I was covered with drawings done with a black marker! The only parts that didn't have any sign of doodling were my hands and from my neck up. Other than those parts, I pretty much looked like I was in the Yakuza and all my tattoo's were done by an artist with down syndrome. I quickly look into my boxers but luckily I didn't touch anything below the waist. As quick as can be I jump in the shower, grabbing the scrubber and soap. I lather it up nice and thick and start scrubbing away. The warm water feels good and I'm just scrubbing away at my arms, chest and parts of my back (how I drew on my back is beyond me) just covering myself with thick foamy lather. Stepping under the shower head to rinse off I feel my stomach drop. It wasn't coming off?! I scrub, lather up and rinse again...HOLY SHIT! IT WASN'T COMING OFF! I try a third time and the bold black lines are barely fading! What the hell was I going to do? I had to be at work in an hour! I had to see my parents! I was fucked!

Luckily my room was right across the hall from the bathroom and I was able to bolt across the hall right into my room, all without being seen. Caught up in frantic thought I tried to come up with a solution. During this brainstorm I notice the black marker on the floor next to this really abstract looking picture of John Lennon (which was actually REALLY good I must say). Damn. In large letters across the bulky pen are written the words MARKS-A-LOT with "permanent marker" written right underneath. Fuck, they weren't kidding? I decide that I would just have to dress up and walk around the house that way. I pulled the biggest longsleeve shirt I had out of my closet and proceed to get dressed. Like a dream the baggy shirt hung so loose that it made the cuffs on my sleeve drag down to my thumb joints. I could reach up and out without making my art work visible.

I was able to leave the house no questions asked and the work day flowed just as easy too. When I got home that night I grabbed a bottle of alcohol and a wash clothe and began the cleaning process. I managed to get my arms pretty clean, but the best I could mange with the rest of my torso was a light gray shade of markings. It took about a couple of days to finally be rid of all that marker magic, but the memories of that night would last forever.

I took plenty more LSD in those following years and always had a great time. Jason surprisingly was always the Chewbacca to my Han Solo during most of these "trips" and we had many adventures along the way. We even had Disney passes for a couple of years so we could storm the Magic Kingdom while tripping out. Together we never had any bad trips or got into any trouble. We were pretty mellow kids so it's a given. I don't think it's for everyone, shit, I KNOW IT'S NOT because I've seen some folks wig out, but it was always good to me. I never met any gorilla cops or thought I could fly and eventually I grew out of the stage where LSD was fun anymore. In my mid 20's I would dabble on rare occasions but it was few and far between. Every once in a while I wonder how it would be if I were to take some hits of LSD, but that's not who I am any more and it no longer interests me. Now I'm 30 and getting older and there are more important, responsible things going on in my life. Those days are far behind me.

... or are they! Whoo whoo hahaha!

DJB

UPDATE KFC Chicken Snacker a "little" misleading...

2005-04-06T09:20:00.000-07:00

A while back I had posted my review of that horrific little slice of hell known as the "KFC Chicken Snacker". Now I found an article talking about how I'm not the only one with gripes about this shite in a bun! Read on:

Fast food chain KFC has come in for criticism from customers who say its Mini Fillet advert is misleading.

Five consumers complained to the Advertising Standards Agency (ASA) that the chicken burger used in the TV commercial was larger than in real life.

The company claims the Mini Fillet used was within the "standard range of dimensions", and that its name clearly indicates its size.

It also suggested that the woman filmed eating the sandwich may have had small hands, making the product appear slightly larger than it was.

Nevertheless, the ASA upheld the complaints against KFC and has pulled the ads.

"Even though the product was called a mini chicken fillet burger, we do not think this was sufficient to alert consumers to the fact the product was smaller than appeared in the advertisement," the ASA said.

The controversial ad shows a group of people eating KFC's Mini Fillets at a railway station.

KFC is owned by US fast-food giant, Yum Brands, which also owns Pizza Hut and Taco Bell.

Now just remember kids, you heard it here first! I'm sure complaints about the after effects of eating this sandwich feeling like prison rape are well on their way.

DJB

Hangin with "Freaks and Geeks", RSVP PSP - find out what it means to me, Super Downsize me - A Weekday Review Round-up...

2005-04-04T19:30:00.000-07:00

Greetings people of earth!
Yes, I know I've been away longer than a conversation with Stephen Hawking, but I've been busy. What's important is that we are here now, so enjoy my latest offerings. Here we go...

DVD's:

Freaks and Geeks: The entire series

Hot digitty damn this set is the best thing since women's boobs! Really, I think this show was one of the most unappreciated shows that ever hit the airwaves. I don't know how many of you have watched the show, or even heard of it for that matter, but this is a must see box set! If after watching a couple of episode you find you still don't like it...THEN I'M PULLING YOUR FEEDING TUBE!!! Eww, I think I made the baby Jesus cry with that one? SOWWY!

The show is set in the midst of 1980. Being an adult who grew up during this magical time I can appreciate all of the references and music that is played throughout the series. The title of the show pretty much sums up what the show is about. The "Geeks" are freshmen who long to be accepted as "cool" by their fellow classmen, but just can't cut it. The "Freaks" are your basic group of heathens, or so you think. You know, the kids with the denim jackets and hard rock t-shirts. I don't know what ad they placed when casting for this show, but every character is PERFECT! You can instantly think of someone you went to high school with that either made you miserable or was your buddy when you watch this show.

The main geek kid is named Sam Weir and he is pretty much the unappointed leader of the geeks. This kid is mucho scrawny and almost looks like he could pass for a girl. His two best buds are Bill Haverchuck and Neil Whateverhislastnameis. Bill is a tall kid who has a grown out buzz cut, wears glasses so thick he can see the future and has a face that looks like he just ain't right. Sad part is, even though he exaggerates his features, they don't do much to change his look. He really does look like he might be slow. The other bestest friend is Neil. Neil is a short chubby faced Jewish kid. He has a nasty head of curly black hair (cut in a fashion only managers at Big LOTS! still wear) and always wears a sweater vest. They are all into science fiction (especially Star Wars) and love comedy flicks. They are constantly quoting from Airplane! and the Jerk. Thing is, it's actually funny to hear their banter. I can't speak for all of you who are in denial, but this reminded me a lot of my friends from school. Shit, it reminds me of some of the friends i even have now. NOTE TO SELF: get new friends.

The "Freaks" are a awesome little bunch as well. Sam has a sister named Lindsay Weir and in the pilot episode she tries to fit in with the "Freaks" in an attempt to rebel and find herself. Prior to trying to fit in with the hooligans she was a prize student and even participated in "The Mathletes". For reasons that aren't really clear she denounces that whole scene and blends in with the "Freaks". What's great about her falling into their social circle is she is their voice of reason AND you start to find out that these kids aren't bad at all, they just have shitty starts in life and have been marked losers by either teachers or their own family. Even Lindsay's parents call them "burn outs" without really meeting them. The Freak posse consists of Daniel Desario, Kim Kelly, Ken Theyneverreallygivehislastname and Nick Andopolis (or something). Daniel is played by James Franco, who is most recognized as Harry Osborne in the Spider-man flicks, and he's your basic greasy haired, emaciated looking, dirty looking clothes wearing "burn out". As the series moves on you find he knows he's a loser, but he's got heart, holmes! His girlfriend Kim is your typical white trash...she even drives a cancer rusted Gremlin! Ken is a monotone voiced teenager with a nappy head of hair and wicked mutton chop sideburns. He rarely says anything that isn't sarcastic. Nick! WHEW! Nick is this tall kid who is a major pot head and LOVES playing the drums. His dream is to be a famous drummer and he takes pride in his 28 piece drum set.

The set is pretty much 18 hours long so I can't really get into any of the stories. I can tell you that even though it's a coming of age style show, it isn't preachy or over dramatic like the Wonder Years tended to be. Again, you will find yourself laughing at some of the situations because they really hit close to home. I wish this box set had arms and legs, then I'd walk it up the aisle and marry it! That's how much I love this fucking show! Ya heard.

Freaks and Geeks - *****stars! A first on this site!

Game Systems:

Sony PSP

When I first got this show on the road I talked about my desire to get me a new Sony PSP. Well my friends...MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! Sure the trail leading to my goal wasn't easy, but I got it damn you! I got it! TOP OF THE WORLD MA!

Originally I had intended to reserve my beloved PSP at my local gameshop. This was during the time when I was delirious with pain from the Devil twisting his little toe in my ear. I had made many-o phone call to confirm that I could reserve my PSP because surely they were going to be hotter than a Jerry Curl in the summer. When I go to the shop to sing my name to the RSVP list the little bastard behind the counter smugly tells me, "Sorry. We stopped taking names as of this morning". The next thing I knew my fingers were sore because I made a fist so tight after hearing his smug little answer I think I hear a few of them crack! "Um...I called yesterday and they said it wouldn't problem reserving one today?" (I had really called too)
"Yeah, well we got an e-mail this morning saying we aren't doing that anymore. Sorry"
It's about this time that I notice the bastard looks like that cartoon character "The Critic" and was about a foot and a half smaller than me. My sight was getting blurry with rage and the pain in my ear didn't help me out any either.
"I see. Do you think you could just add my name to the bottom of the list? I mean, I called yesterday and it's only one more name?"
"PSSH! Uh...NO! I don't think so. Sorry"
It took a few seconds to realize that this fucker had scoffed at me and when it hit, it hit like a semi truck.
"...fffFFFFUUUCK!!!" I yell out loud like I was the Mexican Hulk!
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!? I JUST CALLED YESTERDAY! THIS IS BULLSHIT!!!"
I really don't know what kept me from leaping the counter like a Werewolf and smashing his face into the counter? But it wasn't until I was in my car that I realized I hadn't. The goocher was, when I had my mini break down all The Critic could do was shrug his shoulders and say sorry in a tone that was told me he loved having the power to deny me my PSP. I was in a fog of rage when I walked out of there. I still fantasize about kicking that fuckers guts out.

I finally realized that I had to find a store that was selling them and pull the ultimate geek/loser move and stand in line at some funky hour in the morning. The other challenge would be location. Where would be a good spot to score the unscorable? TARGET! Not just any Target, but the Target in the ghetto! Yes, dammit it just might work! That was my plan and I was sticking to it!

6am on the day of release I drive up to the Ghetto Target in Santa Ana, or what could easily referred to as "Little Mexico"! Trust me, this part of town practically smelled like bean burrito's and I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to take advantage of this situation. When I pull into the parking lot all I see is some hobo wrapped in a blanket at the front of the store? A slight panic shot a drip of pee pee out of the ole bald bishop but I parked anyway. Perhaps this store didn't get a shipment after all?! Surely there had to be a posting or something notifying customers if that were the case. As I get closer to the front doors I notice that the hobo is playing a gameboy. Silly bastard! He wasn't a hobo at all! Just some guy who spent the night in front of the store so he could get a PSP. Around 7:30 there are only 5 of us waiting to get our goods and by 8am there were 11. At first I felt like a total a-hole for waiting in line at 6am, but then I realized I wasn't the guy who spent the night and it was better to be safe than sorry.

When the gates of heaven open I casually walk (but run in my mind) to the electronics counter and claim my reward. I couldn't believe it all worked according to plan!

I couldn't even wait to get to the office before I opened it up, I had to do it right there in my trusty G-ride! As I slowly unpack everything a car pulls up next to me and I hear this punk ass kid say, "YEAH! They have to have them still! This fucker here is already playing his!" It was with this statement I looked up in shame like I got caught whacking off and then shook my fist at him.

WOW! I don't even know how to begin to describe the beauty of the PSP! Remember when we were growing up and the Odyssey system was THE system to have?! All it was was some blocky graphics and you had to play with clunky controllers. Not only was this the most amazing machine I've ever seen, but it made me feel old. I can't believe the way technology has progressed!? When you see this machine you can't help but think that it's almost surreal that these things are soon to be the norm with kids today! Fuckers.

The PSP has a 4.somthing widescreen screen that when playing a movie is better than most TV's we've seen in peoples homes. It can also be used as an MP3 player, holds JPEG files for viewing pictures, plays mini DVD style movies and plays video games that are equal to a PS2. The games I picked up were "Darkstalkers" and "Lumines". These are the best looking games I've ever seen. My only gripe is that the machine comes in this shiny plastic casing that looks like a crime scene when your done playing it. They provide a wipe cloth for it, but I can't stand fingerprints and didn't touch it for almost a full day because it was so pretty I didn't want to ruin it. Once I got over my neurosis it was gaming heaven from then on. At $250 it's not the cheapest system, and I think it's way to sophisticated for the wee chillins, but it is well worth the price! If the Freaks and Geeks box set turns down my marriage proposal I think I'll marry the PSP instead!

Sony PSP- *****stars! It's so good you want to slap it and call it your wife!

Jobs:

Getting Down Sized

I don't even know how to start with this one? For the people out there who aren't too familiar with the term "down sized" it pretty much means it's what happens when the company you work for treats you like a big juicy fart...and lets you go! Yes that's right, I was given notice that my position here in corporate America was being eliminated. Here's how I found out.

I spent most of the weekend caught up in drink and an occasional BT. When you indulge in such weekends as these you start to remember how many vacation and sick days you have. Well I was in the shower Monday when this useful information popped into my head. It was then that I realized that maybe I was feeling a little ill and it wouldn't be wise for me to go into the office. Turns out my "ailment" would last until Tuesday too. While I was in the middle of that dream where I run real fast then take a small leap forward to start flying that my cell phone rings and wakes me up. I turn off the ringer and try to get back to being airborne. This was pretty much useless and I got out of bed, besides it was after 12pm anyway.

A little bit after I waddle out of bed I get a call from my buddy I work with telling me that we got the axe and if anyone called besides her to let me know. Wiping the sleep out of my eyes I finally realize what she just said.
"WHAT?! We got fired!"
"Yeah, they said they were eliminating our positions and we are all being let go!"
"Shit, I guess it's a good thing I was off today then? Otherwise I'd be miserable AND at work." She proceeds to fill me in on some of the details and for some reason I wasn't really bummed to lose my job. It almost felt like I was being set free and some of the stress I felt went away.

Later on I finally get a call from our regional manager in the home office who we refer to as "the Troll". She is this short lady who had a head the size of a Mardi Gras puppet and a trollish face. She is sweet as sugar though and we always got along famously. I could tell she was nervous by the tone in her voice and I almost giggled when I had to act like I was just hearing the news for the first time. I threw in a few "man, this sucks" and "I can't believe it" nuggets for show but I really didn't care. She tried her best to be nice about it, but I could tell some of it was scripted by home office. My favorite part was when she told me "The company has invested quite a bit of money into their technological upgrades and even though they have had to make cut backs in 90% of their offices, they hope that it will be worth it in the future." It as at this point I chimed in with, "Trolly McTrolltroll, just a little word of advice if I may? You really shouldn't tell the person your calling up to give the boot that the company hopes to make a ton of cash as a result of you being downsized. Call me cuckoo, but I know for myself the future earnings of the company is no where near as important at wondering where my future earnings are going to come from. As a matter of fact, finding out I won't be working for the company might just effect my loyalty too? But that's just me talking"
"...oh...um...yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound like that?"
"Perfectly ok. Well thanks for letting me know, I appreciate you calling me yourself. Yeah...um...guess I'll see you later?"

There was other mumbo jumbo involved in the conversation but the only important part was that my last day would be Oct. 21st so this was another reason why I wasn't freaking out about getting the boot.

Truth be told, I hate my job. I've been in the insurance business for 10 years and have never had any interest in it. I've thought about trying something new, but it's hard looking for a job when your at work?! Not to mention it was more of a daydream than something I would ever pursue. Now I have a kick in the ass and 7 months to apply for something new, something that might actually interest me or fool me into thinking I was interested in it. I hope this turns out to be a blessing and actually makes my day a little more enjoyable than the days I spend having my soul sucked dry of any pleasure and interest by corporate America. If not, then I'll just go back to insurance...to continue going prematurely grey and balding from stress. WHEEE!

What really gets me heated about this whole thing is knowing that I have to revise my resume so I can send it out. That's not even so bad, what sucks more than that is I have to go to interviews now! I HATE fucking interviewing! I loathe having to dress up and have one on one's with some stranger so I can sell myself to them. It's a fucking drag. Now I have to drop some lbs (because jobs are like relationships, once you've been with them for a few years you let yourself go and start to look schlubby) and get out my "dress" clothes. It's a good thing I'm a handsome motherfucker or else I might have run into some problems!

We'll see how it goes.

Getting Downsized- "0"stars! c'mon, even one star is too much!

DJB

Motor-Homies on the open road...

2005-03-08T12:39:00.000-08:00

When I was a young lad of 15 I was as eager as anyone my age to get my drivers license. There were a few cats out there who acted like they were very passive about the whole rite of passage, but I firmly believe their bodies we just holding sacks for bullshit. Who didn't want a license, and if lucky a CAR, by the age of 16? I know I did, and I wanted it so bad I could taste the exhaust coming from the garden hose in the tail pipe that I placed ever so gently in my drivers side window...err, scratch that last part.

Unfortunately I got older and had the privilege to experience what in some circles is referred to as "GRIDLOCK"! (and not that shitty Tupac and Tim Roth movie either - actually that was "Gridlock'd yo! on the real) After a few years of chain smoking and throwing the bird to asshole drivers I no like it so good no mo joe! This didn't really kick in until I was about 19 or 20 so I still had a few fun days of driving to reflect on. None were as memorable as the ones from the days BEFORE I had a drivers license.

My father and Step-monkey (Berta, who was around for 11 years before pops decided fella's was where it was at) didn't really jump at the chance to take lil ole me out for some behind the wheel practice. One reason was because they felt I wasn't "deserving" of such a privilege, for reasons we probably agree to disagree on, and also because I practically made them stain the car seats with shit after a couple of disastrous outings with me behind the wheel. For instance, there was my first time behind the wheel when I didn't have the skill of looking to the left WITHOUT veering to the right down too well and almost knocked a pedestrian into the trunk of his own car. Another example was when Berta asked if I wanted to drive her to the supermarket and I was in such shock and joy I all but carried her to the car and threw her in the passenger seat. That time I was so excited to get to drive that in my overzealousness I forgot to put my glasses on and proceeded to drive like a bat out of hell down the street. It was close to dusk yet somehow it got really foggy out and I could barely see the stop signs. OH WAIT! That was just me looking around with out my glasses! I was a good 4 blocks away from the house before I finally fessed up to not being able to see because my glasses were on the kitchen counter. I only fessed up to stop the constant Ethel Merman toned nagging coming from the passenger seat. Needless to say I didn't get to drive home, or with Berta ever again.

Knowing that my days of parental assisted driving lessons were going to be as rare as sightings of the Lochness Monster I had to think of ways to get my driving skills mastered. Even if it was on my own. Luckily during these years my parents were big on taking vacations and spending their evenings eating at fine restaurants...without me. It was annoying at first, but then the light of opportunity all but blinded me! Let them skip town and scarf their delicious steaks! This just meant that I would have ample time to hit the road, and without them knowing too! It was too perfect! Especially because I came to the conclusion that parents just make new drivers paranoid and I was a natural behind the wheel. I just needed the chance to let my driving expertise shine!

The first time I was going to take the driving world by storm was when my parents had left for vacation. My dad had this Toyota truck from the late 70's that he rarely drove and was to be all mine when the big 1-6 hit! (that never happened...ahem) They had newer cars by this time and the truck was just used to haul building materials and anything else that needed to have me do manual labor in the backyard. It was a nice faded yellow and small enough that it was no where near intimidating. Oh, and it was a stick shift too.

Now I had rarely driven an automatic and closest I came to driving a stick shift was when I was left in the car while pops was in a store and I moved around the shifter knob. This wasn't a big deal though. How hard could it be? I grabbed the keys out of the basket and merrily strolled down the front steps that led to the driveway. I could feel the connection me and this little truck had and had no reservations about starting it up and taking on the road. It was my destiny to tame this little yellow bastard! I sit in the car and slip the key in the ignition. I had seen the old man drive the truck many o time and knew that "one pedal" had to be pushed in to move the shifter knob. Oh and lookie here! The knob already had letters on top telling me where to move it! This would be a cinch. I put on my seat belt, look behind me to make sure there was nothing in my way when I went in reverse, then I face forward and turn the key! Nothing. "Wha?!" I think in a slight panic, "was the fucking truck busted!?" I turn the key again and nothing! What the hell was the deal? Then it hit me! I had to step on that one pedal THEN turn the key. Ahh yes, it starts right up with a rev that tells me "C'mon Damon! Let get this fucker rolling!" I look behind me again and realize I've got a crazed grin of excitement on my face and I would probably drive around like that too! I move the knob into the "R" setting and lightly let the "pedal" up. I start to roll back and...start jerking around like a fucking mechanical bull! SHIT! The truck stalls and I have to start all over again. "C'mon Damon, slow and easy gets the job done". I start it up again and start to roll in reverse. I was almost out of the drive way. I give a little more gas and roll out faster. I get out in the street and manage to turn the truck so I was almost facing right down the street. I put the knob in the "d" slot and give it a hint of gas. This was easy! What is the big deal about driving stick? Poo on all you nay-sayers I think to myself! It was just about then that I realized I hadn't straightened out the wheel and sped right into a neighbors bush. The front of the truck had jumped the curb and landed right on top of this huge bush. I finally realized I couldn't really drive stick and I'd best find someone who did and quick! I had to get this fucking truck out of my neighbors bush! I leave the truck where it was and run back in the house to call my good buddy Jason!

Jason's parents had bought him a jetta and took him driving all the time. Luckily the jetta was a stick shift and I knew he was the man to call.
Ring, ring...ring, ring, "HELLO?"
"Hello, this is Damon. Is Jason home?"
"Hey Damon! Sure, hold on..." Jason's mom's had answered the phone and was always so chipper
"Hello" Jason wasn't always so chipper
"MAN I NEED YOU TO HELP ME OUT! I WANTED TO DRIVE MY DAD'S TRUCK AND..." I quickly ditched the calm cool demeanor I had spoke to his mom with and let a tone of the situation at hand reflect in my voice. I spill my guts about the pickle I was in to him and plea for his help.
"What?! HAHA! Uh, let me ask my mom. Hold on" I hear him set down the phone and tell his mom "Damon tried to drive his dad's truck and now he's stuck in a bush! HAHAHA! No, really! He wants to know if we can go get the truck out and put it back in the drive-way? No, I don't think his parents know"
THAT SUNUFABITCH! He sure didn't waste anytime ratting me out to his folks! This was just the beginning of Jason's a-hole ways I would find out later on. To this day he still finds it amusing to rat you out on stuff!
"Hello? Yeah my mom says we'll be there in a bit"
"thanks" Who was I to call him out, I needed the truck moved!

I see him pull up the cul de sac and his mom is in the passenger seat. As I'm walking down the drive-way I sheepishly wave to his mom, "hello Mrs. Deamos..."
"Oh Damon, what are you doing?!", she replies in disbelief and amusement.
"Um, nothing...", what could I say?
It took about 5 mins for Jason to get out his car, jump in my dad's truck and put it back in the drive-way. All while laughing at me. I didn't care, let him laugh! Just put the fucking truck back! He finishes his duty and speeds away as him mom waves good-bye to me. I get the keys out of the truck run back inside and throw them in the key basket with disgust. I hated stick shifts and I hated that truck.

Automatics were where it was at. I let the driving bug go for a month or so before I decided the "Cougar" my Step-monster had recently bought was the car for me. I had driven it once before and I knew I could easily master that car. I ended up taking it for a spin a few times when my parents were out and I really did have the bastard under my control. Seeing as how I could now easily drive a car and I was left home quite a bit I was comfortable enough to pick up buddies for joyrides. Trips to the mall? No sweat, I'll be right over! McDonald's sound good to you? Don't worry I'll take us through the drive thru! Driving was my thing and I was always willing to get behind the wheel...when my parents were out that is.

My driving buddy of choice at the time was my friend Dave (it would have been Jason, but he was a big cherry about this stuff. This would change in later years though). Dave was a master behind the wheel as well and he could even stunt drive too! I had seen him and another buddy of ours stunt drive numerous times. The other fellow was named John. His parents were Korean and owned a sunglass hut at the swap meet so they drove a big van. John was already 16 and used to take the van out once in a while. One day I go to Dave's house and when I get there him and John were sitting in the van with big smiles on their faces. "CHECK THIS SHIT OUT!", they yell to me. John drives up the street a bit and then makes a u turn to come back down the street. As the van charges down the street John climbs out the driver side window and Dave climbs out the passenger window. They both meet each other on the top of the van and hop back in the windows, only now Dave is in the driver seat and John is in the passenger seat! All while the truck is charging down the street! GENIUS I TELL YOU!

One day I call Dave up and tell him to grab his shit, I was going to pick him up. Stunt driving wasn't really my thing, but I wasn't exactly any smarter than that either.

I pick Dave up in the trusty "Cougar" and start off on our journey. We drive around the mean streets of Upland for a bit and our second go-round of Benson Street I have a brainstorm. Since this was a long winding road, wouldn't it be hilarious if Dave lied in the middle of the street, in front of the car like I had hit him?! Yes, yes it would! About halfway down this winding street we manage to contain our laughter and I direct Dave on what would be the best position to lie in. He sprawls out on the middle of the street in front of the cougar, which is parked cock-eyed, and I stand guard, anxiously waiting for cars. Finally I hear the hum of an engine and we get ready for the show. As the car creeps up I Jump out of the car and run to the front in a panicked manner. Dave proceeds to lie still while I run around in circles almost in tears. "OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT!" I yell while prancing around. The oncoming car was driven by some old guy and his equally old lady friend in the passenger seat. I see the old guy give us a look and as they veer around us the old woman puts a hand to her mouth and appears to be in disbelief. Either that or she just found out her kids were shipping her off to a retirement home...naked! SCORE! I start laughing and Dave takes this as his cue to RISE FROM THE GRAVE! He leaps to his feet and runs back to the car buckled over with laughter. Ahh, good times. We figured one car was enough because you never know if the next car might be Uplands Finest (and Upland High's nemesis Officer Doyle) and drove towards the mall.

Down Central Avenue, on the way to the Montclair Plaza, just below the Claremont Colleges, there runs a stretch of train tracks. Running along side of the tracks is a small dead end street with a small cluster of houses, all facing towards the tracks. All of these houses appeared to be run down and occupied by...HOMIES!!! I HATE Homies! Being Mexican, I find this group of guys and gals despicable. What does begin Mexican have to do with anything you ask?! Try being Mexican, then shave your head and wear Nike's running shoes. If you don't get a nasty case of stink eye thrown your way, then I owe you an apology. I don't care if they put on shitty plays like "Duke Of Earl", or better yet "Duke Of Earl II", in their feeble attempts to give back to their communities. They are a shit group of folks!

On our merry adventure in the magical Cougar we found ourselves at the stop sign right before the tracks. Minding our business both of our gazes are drawn to the sound of loud whistling and yelling. Dave and I look to my left and see that the cause of all the ruckus was them damn HOMIES!!! Either these fuckers were letting us know the status of numerous field goals kicked their way, or they were simply throwing their arms out and talking shit. Well, I didn't see any damn footballs around so the gang signs and whistling lead me to believe the latter. We just grimace at them and go about our business. The mall was bunk and we decided to head to the Casa de Barron to regroup.

After hanging about my room for a bit we try and think of fun things to do. Shit, we had a car and all day to burn what could we do? Hmm... It's at this point I notice Dave is fiddling around with my broken BB rifle. Terminator was on a few weeks prior and as a tribute to "Reese" I sawed the stock off of my rifle and taped it up. It kind of looked like the gun in the movie, but it looked more like fun for the afternoon after I had a brainstorm! My eyebrows raised with excitement and I start to fill Dave in on my plan. He was as excited as I was, as I knew he would be, and it was off to the car to get the plan rolling! With broken gun in tow.

I had put the rifle in the trunk before we started off so we wouldn't look like hoodlums trolling around with a firearm. Especially in an uptight neighborhood like Upland. When we got a few blocks from the train tracks on central I pull over and Dave grabs the rifle from the trunk and dashes back into the car. We both put on our sunglasses and lean the seats back a bit, then it's off to the tracks. As expected the Homies stop drinking their Budweiser's and start up with their cat calls. The only difference was this time we had a plan! As I start to roll past the stop sign I drive a few feet then SLAM on the brakes so Dave and I can throw some mad dog stares in the Homies direction. The Homies don't disappoint and start yelling even louder. We just casually roll forward till we pass the cul de sac. A block away we have tears of laughter rolling down our cheeks and make a U turn. Oh no, the plan was only half-way done!

We start back up central and Dave has the rifle in his lap ready to roll! Only minutes from our last run in with the Homies we pull up to the stop sign on the opposite side of the tracks. Instantly the youngest looking Homie start barking his Homies-isms to us. Cool and collected I hit the power windows switch and roll down the window in Dave's side. With lightning quick speed Dave raises the rifle up and in the worst spanish/Homie accent yells "JOR DEAD HOLMES" and starts moving the rifle around like he didn't know where to start blasting! All of the sudden these street hardend Homies transformed into the most agile gymnasts I had ever seen. Almost in a comic manner they start running around, and almost into each other, while some start covering theirs heads. The best were the Homies who managed to take two small hops and one HUGE leap over the planter walls diving for cover. I hit the gas, the engine gives a large charging sound...and we just drive away at a normal jerky speed. Damn, it was a Cougar not a Corvette! What did you expect? I cannot even begin to explain the amusement and satisfaction I felt. Dave was laughing and bouncing about like an epileptic and we decided it was best to gas up the G-ride, get it home and call it a day! Mission accomplished!

Now as I sit and reflect on those wonder years I think to myself, "WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT! WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING!?" Really, what the fuck kind of dip-shit teenager was I? Sure times are a little different now, definitely more violent, but that doesn't mean we couldn't have been shot up then! Not to mention that my step-mofo was a frequent cruiser of Central Avenue and constantly went to the mall! What if one day she was at the stop sign by the tracks and little puppet happens to recognize her car? "Hey?! Sad girl, go call Smiley and tell him to come outside right quick! I think I see that Puto's car who pulled the gun on us aye!" Then we get the call at the house telling my dad to go to the hospital because my step-moco had been shot up by Homies!? How would I keep such a horrid secret from my dad? Better yet, what the hell would I drive!? You know damn well if Berta took a few slugs than the Cougar did too! I wasn't about to start driving that little yellow truck!

I guess if anything my advice to all those who have teenagers who are jonesing for their drivers license, make them wait as long as possible! If you have a feeling they are going to do some stupid shit when they get behind the wheel you are probably right. Trust me! I don't even want to get into the story about when I ran the Aerostar along side an RV! I still can't believe my dad bought my story of damaging the side of the van by running out with a large piece of wood to build a ramp for my car and crashing into it! Maybe it was because I explained it all with a shaky voice and invisible tears? Hmm...

DJB

UPDATE KFC's Sandwich is really named "SNACKER", that's the real Kicker...

2005-03-07T13:55:00.000-08:00

It was brought to my attention that my last review of Killing Fucking Chicken's new sandwich had an error in it. I had mistakenly labled that palm sized pile of shit the "Kicker". The actual name is "Snacker"! My apologies to all readers, it happens to the best of us...even me.

In my defense I issue a challenge. You eat one of these things and once you take the last bite and it feels like Colonel Sanders himself is crawling out of your asshole, coming out feet last, try and have your wits about you! Kicker, Snacker, it still felt like butt rape to me! AND FOR ONLY 99 CENTS! Yay.

DJB

Shit talkers and their lack of regard for those who T.C.B. ...

2005-03-04T13:14:00.000-08:00

Ok, the situation has come to a head and I must address it NOW! I know some of you might be victims, so this is for you. I also know some of you may be the culprits, so this too is for you. Bastards.

If you happen to go to the restroom at your place of employment and know a co-worker just happens to be in a stall, MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS! Is it really necessary to start some chit chat while you are in the bathroom doing whatever it is you are in there to do? Really?! What the hell is so important that someone taking a shit is just a small hurdle in the pursuit of conversation only YOU wish to have.

I can guarantee you for a fact that I never feel so lonely that I long for someone, anyone, to shoot the breeze with me while I'm trying to shake a monkey tail! Even if you happen to be in the stall next to me. It's bad enough that most of us barely get over the neurosis of having to use a public restroom in the first place, but do we need to have the fear of possibly being called out while in the shitter on our minds too! ESPECIALLY if there are people you don't even know in the bathroom listening in!

What made me snap and confront this issue you ask? Maybe it's the fact that I recently had one of my co-workers talk to me while I was making snakes. I have consistently told the motherfucker "DO NOT TALK TO ME WHILE I AM IN THE STALL! Or at the urinal for that matter!" If I'm in a position where my pee pee is in my hand, I'm grunting out some booty pebbles or dragging a small portion of paper product along my butthole, it's pretty much a sure thing I don't need to discuss work or what I watched on T.V. the night before.

When I used to work at my old employer I had this guy in my department drive me crazy with this shit! (no pun intended) I'm the kind of guy who doesn't believe that dress shoes are really necessary in an office and that tennis shoes of any style and color are just fine. Not everyone is aware of this theory and in some offices I am usually the only one aware of this theory. Well, all offices I've ever worked in so far, but that's not important.

Dave, the main shit talker enthusiast at my last employer, would stride in, see my tennis shoes, and loudly ask "DAMON?! IS THAT YOU? WHAT'S UP BUDDY..." and proceed to babble on. Like I said, it's bad enough having to take a shit at work, we all know that, but it's even worse when you don't know who's sitting next to you and some one like Dave announces who you are loud enough that the echo of you name bounces off the tile like a small rubber ball. This also solves the mystery for the person in the stall next to you who's wondering, "who the hell just let a sonic boom fall out of their ass in the stall next to me?" Now that fucker not only knows your name, but that you might have accidentally let out a lion roar fart and spread your name around with disgust as he tells the story of how you startled him with your loud ass cannon. I know I would.

Now that I'm on the subject, what about our good friend the courtesy flush? Is he in hiding? Does that part of bathroom pride no longer exist? What the hell? If you know that you had a chili breakfast burrito with extra jalapeno and washed it down with black coffee than you also know that you are eventually going to shit so hard your tail bone might touch the water? SOOO, why make everyone a victim of the consequences of your meal? I'm no fool, I know the bathroom isn't made to always smell like a Florist shop, but that doesn't mean I need a sound to match the smell that is making me gag! Give a courtesy flush! It's not that hard.

So a refresher. 1) If you know or think you might know who is in the stall, or making pee pee at the urinal...let it go. A smile is more than enough, a "hello" if you absolutely have to say something is acceptable, but not preferred.
2) If you are going to take one of those shits where you squeeze your knees because it's coming out hard and have to stifle a snicker because it sounds like your throwing hands full of clay in the water...give a courtesy flush! It might take care of the smell too!

I know I speak on behalf of all us bathroom users who sit in the stall like the Frank family in the Attic every time someone walks into the bathroom. There is no need for us to bring a spare pair of shoes and earmuffs to work with us. Thank you for your time.

DJB

Episode II : Chilly "D" vs. M.C. Ginnis - A Star Wars Rap Battle to the FINISH...

2005-03-02T16:09:00.000-08:00

Here is part deaux in the wicked verbal street brawl me and M.C. Ginnis got rollin' the other day yo! Who's gots the skills ta pay the bills?! Give it a read and decide for you self Knocka! Drop a lizz-ine in the comments if you gots the heart or you can disappear like a smelly baby fart! Ya heard!

My Rhymes are in BOLD font, M.C. Ginnis is in normal font.

Again...start from the bottom up:

-----Original Message-----
From: Damon J Barron [mailto:kenobimail@*****.com]
Sent: Wednesday, March 02, 2005 1:11 PM
To: M.C. Ginnis
Subject: RE: Web link

Shazam! Your rhymes is like Stevie Wonder! OUTTA SIGHT!

Yo, Ima bout to bring it...

My rhymes come at you big and strong like my man David Prowse
Your skills don't compare, like Kenny Baker your small as a mouse
Squeezing on Leia's boobies cause I'm the brutha in charge
I'm the biggest V.I.P. up on Jabba's sail barge

When I'm on the mike I'm just like Jar Jar and I get stupid
My shows pack more magic than when Han and Leia were shot by cupid
I know how to make Jabba’s dancers groove with the funk
But you would never know cause you can't get past B'ohmar Monk

The ladies I score are so hot they turn planet Hoth to water
It's no big surprise that I'm screwing Anankin’s Daughter
The way the Republic and Empire dig me almost makes me sick
It's like I got all of them suckahs and playuhs under a Jedi mind trick

I got my spinners on the falcon cause that's how I'm cruisin
Bumpin beats harder than Vader giving Luke a bruisin
Just like Anakin its for more skills that your wishin
Not even Lucas could help you out with a new SPECIAL EDITION!

what what!

M.C. Ginnis wrote:

Damn Charles...yo shit is in charge.

I'm about to get ill with my skill...

I'm the AT-ST driver, my flow will squash you like a moth
My beat-box skills will leave you frozen back on Hoth
With rhymes so thick, they'll stick to you like jelly
Breaking you in half and stuffing you in a Taun Taun's belly

This shit is deep, like the voice of James Earl Jones
Tearing through the galaxy and destroying all the Clones
My speeder-bike is blinging, I roll with all the cash
I'm an intergalactic Jedi-pimp with a Lando mustache

My flow is vicious, like snaggle-tooth's face
I've got the freshest kick-worm on the planet and in space
I know you're listening...you just have to get your fix
My beats will get you high just like your snorting death-sticks

Padme just called and she wants me over pronto
She'll sit on my face and ride me like a Ronto
Bitch is tired of Anakin...says the dude's a bum
Leia's coming too for my rapping-Jedi threesome

what!

-----Original Message-----
From: Damon J Barron [mailto:kenobimail@.*****com]
Sent: Wednesday, March 02, 2005 10:50 AM
To: M.C. Ginnis
Subject: RE: Web link

Damn money! That flow was BANK!

Imo step it up a bit yo...

I'm using my lyrical saber and I'm swinging it hard
Gonna cut through M.C.'s like Gammorean Guards
The force flows in my funky style that I'm bringgin straight to ya
Your gonna get wrapped up in my beats like the head of Bib Fortuna

Like the republic to the empire, I'm ignoring what your barkin
Your raps are getting stale and old just like Grand Moff Tarkin
When it comes to Star Wars your like Luke in Dagobah...LOST!
Even Tony Danza heard my rhymes and asked "who's the Bossk?"

Step up to me and I'll roll you up like the buns in Leia's hair
My words fly faster than the pod races on Malastair
Your like my padawan trying to earn the rights to your saber
I'll take you under my wing so you can be my Cloud Car Neighbor

I make Tuskan Raiders pack up a village and scurry like a womp rat
I'm known through out the galaxy, every one knows where it's AT-AT
You were on the Kessel run? I think heard some rebels tell that story
Someone told it to me while I was on Yavin 4 getting a medal for my glory

Even when Jedi's die they talk about how I'm so dope
Obi wan was just telling my homie Yoda "that boys our only hope"
Keep your show tickets cause I'm gonna be mixin on Naboo
I gots a new rap thats got Lobot talkin’ cause that's just how I do

y'know it!

M.C. Ginnis wrote:

Damn McGruff...you just took a bite out of me. Crunk flow kid...crunk flow.

I'm all about keeping it real in the SW universe
and I don't even need a day to go home and rehearse
So peep my styles, and hear my flow
I'm the #1 selling action figure made by HASBRO

My flow is just sick, my beats are slammin
The Cantina Band just called, they want to start jammin
From Endor to Yavin, I'm the one with the raps
Some suckahs try to follow but they fall in to my traps

Oh shit, "I've got a bad feeling about this"
My lighting rhymes will strike you down like Lord Sideous
I'm the most notorious bounty rapper since DJ Fett
My words are so smooth they get Leia all wet

I punk Stormtroopers sometimes just for fun
Last night I broke Han's record for the fastest Kessel run
My show is sold out but I saved you a ticket
If you can find two more, you can bring Logray and Wicket

DJ Force-out

-----Original Message-----
From: Damon J Barron [mailto:kenobimail@*****.com]
Sent: Wednesday, March 02, 2005 9:17 AM
To: M.C. Ginnis
Subject: RE: Web link

Damn Skippy, yo shit is smooth!

Get yo papers and take some notes, cause yous bout ta get schooled.
The only difference is ima keep it real with a Star Wars feel.

And it goes a little sumpin like this...

I'm like the Star Wars movies, I'm talkin to the masses
My rhymes are like a clone army kicking some droid asses
My beats are like Max Rebo when I start a ruckuss
Shootin down wanksters like the bounty hunter Zuckuss

Don't waste your time chillin wit da Phantom Menace
You best jump in yo speeder and get straight to da dentist
Your nose looks like a Wampa slapped you all over da place
Get yo ass outta da cantina "My friend doesn't like your face"

You think yo shit is fly like Han Solo’s boy Lando
but you blew up like the Death Star and look like Marlon Brando
Just like the sucka Greedo your eyes are far apart
Gotta neck like Hammerhead and breath like a Bantha fart

Choke your wife like Padme'? Yo I would never hurt her
Now take your ass to town and get me some power converters
I try use my Star Wars skills for good cause I'm no fighter
But step into my trench and get handled like Biggs Darklighter

Action, Adventure, a Jedi needs not these things
Now your getting schooled, see what a challenge brings?
Don't flow with the Darkside cause I aint tryin ta hear it
Lets all get along like Anakin, Obi wan and little Yoda's spirit

Booyah! How ya like me now!

M.C. Ginnis wrote:

Shoot playuh...you ain't messin. Your flow just rolled my ass!

I'm sure you think that your rhymes are out to scare
But much like your scalp, that shit is just bare
No worries kid, you can learn from the Jedi-master
Still got those poisonous Sith zits? Whatta F'n disaster!
Look'n like you got shot in the face with a Stormtrooper's blaster

Womp-rat moles just chillin on your neck
Tits resting on your shoes...man, get your shit in check!
Patches of hair on your head like a toy poodles
Yo big-ass lips make you look like Sy Snootles

Your knee is all whack when I hear it pop, snap and crack
You're like take-a-part C3PO chillin in Chewy's back-pack
Don't trip playuh, that's just a sign of getting old
I'll wrap some wires around your knee...then dip that shit in gold

Jigga what?

-----Original Message-----
From: Damon J Barron [mailto:kenobimail@*****.com]
Sent: Tuesday, March 01, 2005 3:30 PM
To: M.C. Ginnis
Subject: RE: Web link

Straight trippin yo! Is you a convict? cause you is breakin out!

Let me start a little sumpin like this...

M. Skywalkers rhymes could never really harm me
Im like the Jedi council and he's just a Gungan army
His flow is like Sarlaac, by that I mean the pits
They're sloppy like Yoda's stew and give me the shits

Make fun of my dope looks? Yo what's your beef?
Y'know the Ewoks can use your toes to play music on your teeth!
Don't get mad like the Sith at all the rhymes that I spray
It ain't my fault your mugs jacked and you look like Nute Gunray

See here
I've been down with the force since before you were born
Now my skills is raping you like intergalactic porn
Old School Leia and New school Pame' is my dish
You act like your really Anakin, HA! You wish!

Your frontin all hard like your Jabba the hutt
but your skills smell like they fell outta tauntauns butt
I stand tall like Wookies way up in the trees
when you found out about Wattos dick did it hurt your knees?

I called you out not even usin my jedi master power
left you in my bantha tracks, you best go take a shower
I'm out Like Ep III, so go cover your nose with oil
looks like it's been cooking in the double sun on Tattoine soil

bullidat

M.C. Ginnis wrote:

Damn homie...your rhyme is a crime. That shit is lethal yo.

My rhymes roll just like a sandcrawler
Down in Mos Espa, I'm known as the Lyrical Brawler
Just F'n up folks with my words that cut
call me Tenacious Crumb next to Jabba the Hutt

Listen my brutha, I'm Star Wars for life
Dressing up like Anakin and strangling my wife
Still playing with SW toys up in my tub
Dancing around naked singing the Ewok "yub nub"

Ben's my boy, just bustin’ your balls
Your dome is horny and bare, just like Darth Mauls
What's up with your nose all fat and slick
Looks like Watto's big green slimy dick
If you ask around the streets, I'm the one who said it
Your nose isn't worth one Republic credit

The two suns have set, there goes another day
Just get'n my rap on...in a galaxy far, far away

DJ Crunk-out

-----Original Message-----
From: Damon J Barron [mailto:kenobimail@*****.com]
Sent: Tuesday, March 01, 2005 1:09 PM
To: M.C. Ginnis
Subject: RE: Web link

Damn G, your ryhmes got me buggin!

Ok, peep this yo...

Unh, unh...

The war ends when you feel my Jedi rap spank
You'll be left dizzy swimming in a bacta tank

See, my rhymes aren't from the darkside all fulla hate
They just flow with the force so you can groove like IG-88
Step up to me you'll be left bandaged like Dengar
Cause my rhymes is fly like a tie fighter out the hangar

Owen calls Ben crazy cause he don't know what to do
Now he's smokin like cigars right next to aunt Beru
Lukes lucky Kenobi wants to train him on Han's ship
Coulda left him crying on Tattooine feeling like a drip

Leia says "help me obi wan, your my only hope"
Would Kenobi have seen this without R2? The answer?..NOPE
3PO and R2 get caught by the Jawas in the sand
Han and Chewie are in the cantina chillin wi da band

You'd think A NEW HOPE is where it had begun
But 25 years later G-money Lucas busts out Episode I
Treat these words like the force and always keep them with you
If you aren't busted with my ryhmes like a broken R2-D2

audi 5000

M.C. Ginnis wrote:

Ahhh...shnapps!! Props on the Slave 2 line...

This battle is raging, I can hear your scream
As I pull you in with my rhyme tractor beam

Ben went running with Yoda at his side
Left him in the swamp, then went to Tatooine to hide
Sucka just sat there getting all crusty and sick
when he could have been fighting, helping the Republic

Lars called him crazy, I think he was right
Living in a dirt cave, not wanting to fight
Luke rolls by and gives him a kick in the pants
Takes his lightsaber and shows him how to dance

I'm not a Ben hater, he was Leia's only hope
Until Luke came around and smoked the Empire like it was dope
Don't worry DJB, there's plenty of force to go around
I'm the Jedi battle champion, weighed pound for pound

-----Original Message-----
From: Damon J Barron [mailto:kenobimail@*****.com]
Sent: Tuesday, March 01, 2005 11:41 AM
To: M.C. Ginnis
Subject: RE: Web link

Thems is some dope gumby fresh skills B!

miggidy miggidy mike check, check it...

Lets get the war started, my ryhmes are my battallion
my raps shine brighter than Luke and Han's medalions!

I'm gonna blast off faster than the Slave I do
Don't fall prisoner to my skills our you'll be a Slave 2
Obi wan's tighter than slave girl Leia's bra
Scooped up Yoda and took him to Dagobah

Call Kenobi a fag? what? how could you?
Don't be mad 'cause Anakin is poo doo
Even as a spirit y'know Obi wan's the man
Unlike Vader, he’s still got both of his hands

Ben Kenobi and his saber is always on the ball
Cutting down suckas like they were Darth Maul
I hope Ep III will turn out pretty groovy
But we all know Empire is the better movie

Holla

M.C. Ginnis wrote:

Shizamm...yo shit is scorching hot!

Yo, check this...

I'm prepared for battle, my rhyme is my weapon
Marc Skywalker's in the house, so you best get to steppin

Everyone knows that Yoda's the real master
Obi-Wan's gay, see him hugging Dex Jaster?

My little green homie saved Anakin and Ben
And in Episode III, I'm sure he'll do it again
Jumping and flipping...no saber shines brighter
with his right hand alone, moved Luke's X-Wing fighter

When Ben got punked, Yoda completed Luke's training
For your average green midget, that shit would be draining
But Yoda just chilled deep in Luke’s back-pack
Thanks to his skills, the Empire will never strike back

crunk-out

-----Original Message-----
From: Damon J Barron [mailto:kenobimail@*****.com]
Sent: Tuesday, March 01, 2005 10:38 AM
To: M.C. Ginnis
Subject: RE: Web link

Mad props on the last line yo!

1,2,1,2...

Prepare for battle, your about to get tore up
Just call me Death Star, cause I'm about to blow up

wicket,wicket,wicket

The Skywalker gene ain’t even that tight
Didn't anyone teach Anakin how to fight?
Slashing and pushing with all of the force
Is Obi-wan the baddest jedi, well of COURSE!

wicket,wicket,wicket

Nobody in the Empire is darker than Palpatine
Even my dawg Lando is the color of Ovaltine
Luke, Han, Leia and Chewie in the trash smelling like B.O.
All them peeps get saved by the goldie C3 to the PO

wicket,wicket,wicket

Jabba's got Leia on a chain so he can spank her
Straigh punked Luke and threw him to the Rancor
Luke wanted to roll wit da jedi like his father
Obi wan is the greatest so he shouldn't even bother

wicket,wicket,wicket

yup yup

M.C. Ginnis wrote:

Sorry, I was busy w/ appointments yesterday.

tight...tight.

Obi Wan's weak...lost all control
now Anakin is Vader, Empire swallowing the Republic whole
Damn old fool! If he would just kept that kid in check
Ben would still be here and Anakin wouldn't be hi-tech

Luke's the shit and proved the bloodline is strong
Slicing up fools faster than you smoke the bong
lopped off his pops hand with just one chop
Then Vader tossed the Emperor over the top

The galaxy is saved because of Skywalker muscle
Luke never gave in to the Emperor's hustle
Now everybody's dancing to the bricka bricka dawn
With my homeboys Chewy, Lando and Han

Nooch

OH NO HE DIDN'T! This battle is too fierce and off the hizzy! Can you believe the carnage when 2 M.C.'s get busy?! Don't even think about bootlegging it either, I already gots it trademarked and shit!

Chilly "D"

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired!..

2005-02-28T18:30:00.000-08:00

Ah, no matter what the situation, that little phrase always kills me. My dad used to yell that at me when I was a kid, then get all puffed up when I smirked. Whattya expect?! That is some funny shit!

Anyway. Imo be a little late with posts this week because I am ILL! Not that cool street jive "ILL" but the "I puked twice for no reason at all and hacked up a gelatinous life sized version of myself in a lime yogurt type of hue" sick.

Sick two fucking weekends in a row! Shit. It's now Monday and I still feel like booty nuggets. I needs me some rest...and Wendy's chicken nuggets! I hope they don't shoot out my nostrils while I violently apologize to the inside of my toilet with numerous grunts and loud gagging noises.

Ta-ta all! See you in a couple of days...

DJB

Getting in touch with my DARKSIDE...

2005-02-25T16:29:00.000-08:00

Every once in a while I get a friend getting all up in my kool-aid calling me out on some of my dope ass rhymes. I'm posting the latest Busta who had to get schooled for trying to come at me all hard 'n shit!

Please read from the bottom up:

Date: Fri, 25 Feb 2005 14:34:02 -0800 (PST)
From: "Damon J Barron" Add to Address Book
Subject: RE: Web link
To: "M*** M*******"

Obi wan beats vader like a big winner
Burning up Anakin like a fried chicken dinner
Turning to da dark side? You gotta be whack!
Stay cool wit da force and Yoda's got your back

Mace Windu's da blackest brutha in the universe
Fucked up Jango Fett, now he's rollin in a hearse
Anakin messed with Dooku not knowin the skills that he got
Pussy bitch got his arm chopped off, now busts a mean robot

Padm'es got Luke and Leia chillin in the oven
Gets choked by her man, can't she get no lovin?
Chewbacca makes a cameo, I think that's pretty fresh
Makes my nipples so hard they can rip through flesh!!

ya know it.

M*** M******* wrote:

Damn, your rhymes are ill and phat
Obi Wan's a Vader hater, what up wit dat?
Dude's just jealous cuz Anakin's eat'n Padme's pussy-cat

Straight tripin...no need for Ben to front
He can go mack out Mon Mothma's juicy cunt
that's the end of my stunt, time to smoke a blunt

word

-----Original Message-----
From: Damon J Barron [mailto:kenobimail@*****.com]
Sent: Friday, February 25, 2005 1:36 PM
To: M*** M*******
Subject: RE: Web link

After viewing them
I think i'll forget about suing 'em
Obi wan can kick some ass
Knocking Anakin in lava like river bass
Gots to check out this flick
Hope it don't blow like you on my dick!

aww yeah! PAYCE!

M*** M******* wrote:

Yes, it did.
Those EIII picks look diggety-dope like new hope and the pope hanging from a rope!

nooch.

-----Original Message-----
From: Damon J Barron [mailto:kenobimail@*****.com]
Sent: Friday, February 25, 2005 1:18 PM
To: M*** M*******
Subject: Web link

hey Blumpkin Splash!

Did that link i sent you the other day work? My boss said he couldn't get on?

DJB

DAMN YO! He got straight served!!! Betta recognize padna! BULLIDAT!

Chilly "D"

Time to go to school! CHOP CHOP! C'mon, let's go!..

2005-02-25T08:17:00.000-08:00

About 11 years ago, when I was a young ravishing buck, I got a phone call from my little sister Vanessa. I found this a bit strange because we never really called each other to shoot the shite or anything so I assumed it must be important? She was a junior in High School and just sliding into her annoying asshole teenager phase. Everyone to her was un-cool and a drag to talk to, unless you were one of her buddies. Her buddies were your typical dip-shit crew and knowing how my sister was, she was the queen of the dip-shits.

“Hello? Damon?” in the tone that says I should consider myself lucky to be getting her call
“Uh…yeees?”
“It’s me Vanessa …” (I always think it’s funny when people you know call you and inform you that it is indeed them on the phone and not an impersonator)
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Can I ask you a favor..?"
“Depends? What is it?”
“I need to have a speaker come into my class and have them explain their job. We’re having career day and if you come in I’ll get extra credit”
“Really? What time do I have to be there if I go?” (Damon loves his sleep, yes he do)
“You’d have to be there at 9:30 in the morning and come to my government class. They are having other speakers come in so I don’t know how long it would take? It shouldn’t take too long though”
“Vanessa, I work at Best Products? I’m only a dept. head in electronics, don’t they have people with real jobs going in?”
“It doesn’t matter. As long as you have a job you can come in”
“…”
“Hello?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m thinking?”
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to…”

Now after her last statement I felt like Bigfoot’s dick. The tone of her voice let me know that it probably wasn’t easy for her to call her brother up and ask for a favor, and it also had a tinge of being let down. She was my sister and just because we weren’t as close as Siamese twins doesn’t mean I should send the message that she can’t come to me when she needs help. Even if the help she needs is something lame like speaking at career day.

“No, it’s cool. I’ll go, just give me directions…”

I was 19 at the time and living in lovely Rancho Cucamonga with a couple of roommates. Back in those days things were pretty fun and fancy-free. It’s that prime age where your still happy to finally be out of school, yet bummed you have to work like a dog if you don’t want to live at home. High School was a wonderful place for the social part of it, but I despised the whole structure part and had no desire to continue that hell in College. Knowing I didn’t want to live at home, I chose to work as soon I got out of school. I honestly planned to go to College, but only after I enjoyed the taste of freedom from the school system. This never panned out. Somehow I had landed a job at BEST PRODUCTS and I even became Dept. Head of Electronics. This prestigious position meant that I set up displays and got to listen to my CD’s for an entire shift.

Knowing that all I really had going was a crappy job I was a bit puzzled on how I was going to spin that working in a catalogue store was a decent job, important even. There wasn’t a way, so I was just going to have to wing it and hope my sister got her extra credit.

I knew I had an obligation to my sister and I was going to have to be responsible enough to follow through on it. I also knew that I like beer and lots of it. That night my roomies and me decided to go on a bender. Convincing myself that I would still be able to drink vast amount of beer and wake up early enough to get to my sisters High School, I let the spirits flow. And they flowed and flowed till the break of dawn.

I was sitting in a diner with Cindy Crawford and she had just ordered the same thing I did. When she reaches over and holds my hand…SHIT! I was dreaming! I sit up faster than a bunny fucking and look over to my alarm clock. After rubbing the sleep nuggets out of my eye the display finally comes into focus…9:02 am. HUH! I thought I had set my alarm? It was around this time that I also realized I was a wee bit hung over and my mouth felt and tasted like I was sucking farts out of dirty buttholes all night. There would be no time for me to shower and if I hurried I could at least brush my teeth…but I would have to stay in the same clothes I woke up in. I run into the bathroom; after squirting toothpaste on my toothbrush I get to brushing. As I furiously brushed my choppers I looked into the bathroom mirror. I was sporting some wicked bed head and it made me look like I just walked out of an explosion. Keep in mind this was 11 years ago, way back then I had a full head of black hair and it was soft as velvet. It looked nothing like the coarse balding hair that’s sprinkled with gray I sport around town with today. I would have to use the lazy mans hair comb; it’s called a “HAT”. I decide to put a fresh t-shirt on and dash out the door so I can come through for little Vanessa! Baby Ima coming!

Screeching into the school parking lot I stunt drive my car into a parking spot and barely pull my keys from the ignition before I leap out and run to my sisters class. As I’m running I realize my sister only gave me the room number and no directions on how to get to it? I was ‘that guy” who runs around classroom windows and makes everyone in those classes turn to look out and see me look like an idiot. I find it, take my hat off (which made my hair look perfect thank you very much) and walk into the classroom. The room is silent and everyone was looking at me. I notice there was a speaker up front, whom I’d obviously barged in on. After a small uncomfortable silence, she gets back to her presentation. Some lady runs up to me, with a big smile on her face and whispers, “why hello! Are you a speaker for today?”
I figure out she’s my sisters teacher and nervously answer, “Yeah. I’m Vanessa Barron’s brother.”
“Oh great! Well we have a speaker right now but you can go on right after her”
“Ok. Thanks”

Looking around I see some of the other speakers who have already said their piece and notice all of them are dressed rather nicely. Self-consciously I lightly place a hand on my t-shirt and baggy shorts I had shown up in. I look around to see where my sister is and finally I spot her. My eyebrows perk up a bit and I wave to her. She’s sitting in the middle of a cluster of desks surrounded by her friends. She sees me and rolls her eyes while lazily telling her friend “oh, that’s my brother.” The tone of this statement said that I was obviously not cool enough to get a friendly acknowledgement. By simply waving to her I was cramping her style and she had to explain who I was before the embarrassment of my being her brother kicked in. OH NO SHE DIDN’T! I had been feeling guilty for almost letting her down and while wallowing in a wicked hang over I had jumped on the freeway to be there for her. How dare she roll her eyes at me and not even say hello! So this was the way it was going to be huh? Fine.

While stewing with brotherly anger towards my sister the speaker up front had wrapped up her babbling. I snap out of my trance and her teacher calls me towards the front of the class.
“Next we have Vanessa’s brother and he’s going to tell us a little about what he does at work!”
She extends her arm in that “here he is” motion and the class applauds my arrival. This was it, SHOW TIME!

“Hello. My name is Damon Barron and I’m a martial arts teacher”
“Oooh”, her teacher coos.
“I’ve been training in martial arts since I was little and for the last couple of years I’ve been training my sister in proper martial arts technique” At this point my sister’s jaw has dropped so low it’s resting on her desk. She looks pale and her eyes are filled with horror. I wink and smile at her.
“WOW”, her teacher exclaims, “ Maybe you can show us some of what Damon’s taught you?”
My sister just shakes her head no and doesn’t change her expression.
“Now the martial arts aren’t something that you should do carelessly, it’s something you should take seriously if you’re going to execute any moves. So today I’m going to show you some of the moves I teach my class, and my sister as well”

Now the situation was this, I didn’t know shit about any form of martial arts. I never even said what kind of martial arts I knew now that I think about it. The only thing I had under my belt was that I had seen some Bruce Lee movies and a few episodes of Kung Fu. Shit, that’s all I needed!

All of the students were leaning forward on their desks with excitement and anticipation. They were ready to see the master at work and I would not disappoint.

I make the “L” sign with both hands and slowly push my arms out with a look of strain on my face. I let out a loud dramatic breath and get started. I start off with a few karate chops in the air while charging towards my left. I snap back around to my right and charge forward with a fury of various punches. I let out some more dramatic breaths as I do this. I decide some kicks should be thrown in and lift my right knee up and KICK into the air. The crowd was sucked in. A combination of moves takes over me and I actually feel like I really know me some martial arts! This was great; I was so into it I don’t even care about the class anymore. Even my sister’s teacher was watching in fascination. Fuck that bitch, I was in the ZONE! How was I going to end such a remarkable show? Ah, I knew. I give a few more karate chops and punches, then I jump as high as I can in the air and give the highest kick you’ve ever seen! All this was done while I yelled “HIIIGH YAAA!” as loud as I can. When my feet finally land on the ground I stand still, put my hands at my side, then make the “L” sign again and push my hands out in front of me. I let out a long breath of air and look around the room. Silence…then it’s broken by a round of applause.
“Thank you, thank you. I was just kidding though. I really only work at Best Products”
It looked like the class didn’t want to believe me but after I start to explain my duties they let the heaviness of truth fall upon them. My sister had her head down on her desk and I continue to disappoint her class. When I’m done saying my piece I get some claps, but nothing like the ones I got when I knew martial arts. The teacher thanks me for coming and I start to walk towards the door. The whole time I’m walking my sister is burning a hole in my soul with her fiery gaze. I smile and walk out into the morning’s sunlight. I was satisfied. Today was going to be a good day.

That evening my phone rings and as soon as I say hello a scream fills my ears. It was my mother.
“WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!? VANESSA TOLD ME YOU WERE DOING SOME KARATE SHIT IN HER CLASS!”
As she’s yelling this at me I could hear my sister egging her on in the background.
“Well, maybe if she showed some appreciation instead of acting so pompous this might not have happened”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! YOU DID THIS IN FRONT OF HER CLASS!”
I don’t really remember what other crap she barked at me, and to be honest, I didn’t care either. Today had been a GREAT day!

DJB

Killing-Fucking-Chickens put on their shit "Kickers", A week-day review...

2005-02-24T12:27:00.000-08:00

FOOD:

I like to think of myself as a veteran of fine foods and I'm not afraid to try different kinds of eats. This being the case I found myself unable to avoid the lure of KFC's new chicken "Kickers". I had seen commercials for this sandwich and from what the commercial portrays, it's a delectable, nicely portioned, juicy piece of breaded chicken incased in a roll with lettuce and sauces. When eaten with a group of friends it provides more fun and laughs than a midget orgy, or so the commercial has you believe. Well, I like chicken! I like friends! I like to eat with friends and laugh hysterically until chicken chunks fly out of my mouth and tears run down my cheeks! PLUS they were only 99 cents! Looks like KFC had a custom made sandwich just for me and I wasn't about to let them down by not trying it!

After a long day at the office I ended up carpooling with a friend I like to call "Starving!" I had a meager lunch and Starving asked if he could have a ride home at the end of the day. "Of course!" I say, then I unlock the passenger door to let Starving in and away we go.

Starving had the idea to try the new KFC Kicker and who was I to argue. After a brief exchange with the youth of today on the drive through speaker I order two Kickers (one for me and one for Starving). As Starving and I roll towards the drive-thru we wonder if the little fucker in the window jizzed in our French rolls before sliding in those big juicy chicken breasts. Starving doesn't seem to mind so neither do I. As Francisco hands us our bag of treats I notice the extra long pony tail he has and wonder how long the strands take to dissolve after they fall in the hot oil?

Starving and I decide to consume our sammiches at my apartment, seeing as how I lived so close to KFC and all. I reach into the bag and try to keep the drool in my mouth while doing so. HUH? Starving and I were puzzled at what we pulled out of the bag. Instead of two big juicy sandwiches I pulled out two foil wrapped balls the size of a poodle's head! WHAT THE FU...! We unwrap our small items (that were obviously put in our bag by mistake) and anger mixed with depression set it. These WERE our Kickers! Right dab in the middle of the wrapping was an old baby shoe filled with lettuce and a chicken strip?! I picked up the little fucker and it really was smaller than the palm of my hand. Starving was a bit disappointed, but I assured him that perhaps they were just small in size and BIG in taste?! Since it was Starvings big idea to get these things I demanded Starving satisfy his craving first. Biting into the first bite Starving is instantly disappointed. Out of sheer hunger, Starving finishes the rest of the morsel and abruptly leaves! Sitting alone and feeling lower than an ants nut sack I try to finish my sandwich. Damn that Starving for making me go to KFC!

The bun on the sammich is soggy. I believe this is from being partially filled with warm mayonnaise, funky lettuce and then getting sealed up in foil wrap. The chicken strip is about the size of a puppy turd, and I can imagine just as tasty. I throw half of it away and was a bit surprised the trash can didn't throw it right back! Not only was the satisfaction of a good meal nil, but I could feel my butthole quivering like the lip of a crying child. This food was obviously conjured up by Satan himself.

KFC Kickers- *Star. Avoid at all costs.

DJB

Grandma Loopy kicks the bucket...

2005-02-24T08:20:00.000-08:00

Guadalupe Pantoja Barron, this is the name of a short cotton haired lady I call Grandma. She was born and raised in Mexico and married my Grandfather Cruz, no joke that was his name, in the good ole U.S. of A. After a few years of marriage and then having children in this fine and dandy country you’d think she would have taken the initiative to learn English? I’m not saying she doesn’t speak English; she just doesn’t speak it anywhere close to well. Most of my childhood memories consist of her doing that jive where she’d clap her hands together while tilting her head and then opening her arm with her palms out while using her wretched English to say “Aye Mijo…how are ju?” I would fall into her arms like I was pulled in with a tractor beam and just get the damn hug over with. My sisters and I would later call her Grandma Flav because she had a nice amount of gold either outlining her teeth or covering them entirely. Word on the street is gold toofasis was the way shit went down in Mexico? All I know is she was years ahead of the gold wearing rap fad of the 80’s. Another odd, yet cool, memory is how she could shoot some mean B-Ball. I don’t know why or how but she would school us when we played
H-O-R-S-E by making some unbelievable shots from the porch of her house? After she would swish her shots she would clap her hands together, tilt her head and then let out a mix of a cackle and a laugh.

As I got older I started to realize that Grandma wasn’t the sweet old lady Grandmothers were supposed to be. No, she was actually a bitter old lady who used pathetic drama to either get her way, or just flat out annoy you. One of my first examples of this was when I was a wee lad and saved my nickels and dimes (FOR TWO WHOLE WEEKS! Bonus points if you get that reference) and bought her a nice bunch of flowers for her birthday. I can remember sitting in the car caught up in daydreams of my presenting her with the flowers and securing my spot as her best grandchild. My sisters were in the car, but I think they only had cards or something droll like that. We pull into my grandparent’s driveway and I can’t wait to get inside to deliver my goods! Anxious to make my delivery, I lead everyone into the house. Most of times I went to visit the grandparents they would be sitting at the kitchen table across from each other, this was one of those times. My grandfather gives me a hug when I walk in and I give a meager hug back and head straight for Grandma Flav. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDMA!” I blurt out with glee. Then my TRUE grandmother let herself be known. “Uuugh, thank you Mijo. They…are nice” she replies as she takes them from my hand and sets them on the counter. She only looked at them for a second and set them aside? Sonofabitch! That’s it?! That’s what I saved my money for? To have her let out a breath like she ran a marathon and then tossing my flowers aside like they were junk mail?! SONOFABITCH! My dad just kind of put his hand on my shoulders as if to tell me “I know, just let it go.” I would have understood if she reacted like that because she was on her deathbed or something, but she wasn’t. The one thing I do know though is that I was never hording my cash to buy her a gift again! She had no idea how many boxes of lemon heads,
Chic-o sticks, Boston baked beans and Alexander the Grapes she had cost me…but I did.

From that day on I notice she never said a word without letting out that breath like it was going to be her last. “Uuuugh…Mijo, would you like some juice” “uuugh…do you want to watch TV?” “Uuugh…Mijo put the knife down.” Then I also started to notice she would just start talking to me in Spanish? I was just a kid and my parents never spoke any Spanish at my house unless we were going to Taco Bell. Even now when I talk to her she insists on saying only one thing in English, then it’s all Spanish after that! Oh, did I leave that part out? Yeah, my grandmother is still alive! She ain’t going nowhere! Fuck, her mother just died last year and she was 109 yrs old! She was uglier than a nightmare with the devil in it too, and ever since we were kids she looked as if she was carved out of driftwood and no taller than Yoda. She would only talk to me in Spanish too! These chicks were straight old school Mexican ladies right on down to the dramatic way they talked and moved their hands while speaking.

When my grandfather passed away she got even worse. Years later my father and his boyfriend Jim (YES JIM! I OUTTED YOU! HAHA) would move into her house and take care of her. This is when the fun would start. Over the last few years of them living there she had planted a seed of dislike within the two of them and we’ve watched it grow into a blossoming bushel of hate for her! Do I blame them? No. Now that I’m adult I’ve realized that hate was created for at least one person in our lives and that doesn’t exclude family.

There are many stories I could tell about this twisted old broad, but this one is the one that had the most impact on me.

One sunny morning my Grandmother’s house was abuzz with everyone starting their days and doing what it is people do in the morning. My sister had been staying at the house at the time so there was a full house consisting of Pops, Jim, Lisa and G-love. The old man and my sister were in different bathrooms getting ready while Jim was getting ready in one of the rooms. While my dad is in the bathroom he recalls Grandma knocking on the door. He tells her he’ll be out in a second and when he opens the door…no one is there? He blows it off and goes about his business. My sister was finishing up in the bathroom she was in and makes her way out. As my sister walks out of the bathroom and toward the kitchen she sees my Grandmother scurrying in from the garage door, which is attached to the kitchen, and when she spots my sister she let’s out a scary laugh and shoots straight for her room. What makes the laugh scarier is that in recent years my Grandmother had decided that looking like a shrunken mad scientist was where it was at! She was barely 5 ft tall, wore house gowns, ratty slippers, no make-up, glasses that resembled the ones Mrs. Claus would wear, and had hair as white as clouds and styled like Colonel Sanders.

My sister was a bit puzzled because she didn’t even know my Crazy G was even in the garage. My dad walks into the kitchen and my sister proceeds to tell him about the odd run in she had with Gram Crackers. “Huh? What was she doing in the garage?” to which my sister answers with a shrug. Baffled he opens the garage door and turns on the light. Without going further than the first step from the door my father is blocked by a wall of stench! He says it was like smelly tear gas and he almost gagged. He opens the main garage door to let in some fresh air while also letting out the rank smell overtaking the garage. After he opens the main garage door he tells my sister how bad it smelled in there and for her to go smell the aroma in the garage. This is the part that I don’t get…SHE GOES IN AND TAKES A WHIFF! Why? If my dad is obviously pale and scarred from his jaunt into the garage wouldn’t you just take his word for it? I’m sure no one makes that shit up so they can trick you into smelling strawberries or something! It’s like when your with someone who smells a fart, sniffs around round and exclaims “WHAT IS THAT SMELL? DO YOU SMELL THAT?” Then they take a couple more hearty whiffs and go “EEEW! WHAT IS THAT?!” Was it really necessary to take the second whiff to suck up the rest of the smell? No. No it isn't.

Determined to crack the case my father starts OPERATION PHANTOM ODOR! He goes back into the garage and the smell isn’t as bad anymore, but it still stinks. My grandmother’s garage is packed with crap! There is my uncles old truck; the bed filled with boxes, a vintage coke machine, tools, some furniture, etc. My dad starts looking around like a bloodhound and when he turns the corner of the coke machine he comes face to face with the enemy. The old man has a wicked set of tools because he is the next best thing to Bob Villa. Some of the tools he uses most he keeps in a big white bucket. Well, the tools were dumped out of the bucket but the bucket was still there. This was no longer a tool bucket.

With a look I can only imagine resembled a priest giving an exorcism, he stares at the bucket. The bucket is half covered with shit and when he leans forward he sees there is shit inside the bucket as well. There were no logs to be seen either, no; this was straight up ass mudslide material. Infuriated my dad swallows his disgust and starts the clean up process. Now he knew what my grandmother was doing in the garage and was beyond furious. As he gets the hose to spray the garage he notices a soaked slipper on the patio, my grandmothers slipper. Turns out grandma’s aim wasn’t so good and when she went to squat over the bucket she miscalculated the distance resulting in her shitting all over the side of the bucket AND her foot! But it gets better; spread out on the planter was some old lady chonies! Her underwear took a hit and were down for the count. He finishes cleaning up Poo Radley's mess and quickly goes into the house to confront his demon.

Going to her room he asks my grandmother “why did you shit in the garage.” Adding fuel to his fire, my grandmother just laughs and waves both hand at him like it was no big deal. You see this is what happened according to my grandmother’s confession. Since my sister was in one bathroom and my dad was in the other there were no bathrooms left. Oh yeah, and my grandmother had taken a grip of laxatives so they weren’t helping her out either. Knowing that she was about to blow like Old Faithful she decided to go into the garage and find a solution. Her solution? Why it was to dump a bucket of tools and aim her ass blaster toward the bucket of course. Who wouldn’t do that? It made perfect sense…TO A CRAZY OLD LADY FILLED WITH SHITTER PILLS! Knowing it was pointless to argue with her my dad stares her down, turns on his heels, and leaves her room like a beaten man.

I had been visiting the old man when he recited this horrid tale to me. My grandmother was in her room and wasn’t aware I was visiting. Normally I won’t disturb her because she acts like I came back from traveling the world and all she could think of was me while I was gone. Sure it sounds sweet, but it’s such a phony display of affection that you just want to hug her until you feel her spine snap in your arms. I listen to every word of my dad’s story with intense curiosity. Every word that fills my ears disgusts me more and more. “Wha…I mean…How…” I just didn’t know what to say. I finally settled on the scholarly response of “THAT IS SO FUCKING GROSS!” to express my true feeling. Within minutes of barking that statement out my grandmother emerges from her room and looks right at me. “Uuuugh…MIJO! Oh, how are ju?” and she is coming at me with open arms. Now I hated giving her hugs before but this was different. After talking to my dad I couldn’t get the story out of my head and looking at the cause of all this disgust I felt was coming at me for a big hug. I could feel my breakfast making it’s way up my throat and I swore I smelled shit the closer my grandmother got. When she finally grabs me I am clouded with visions of shit and the aroma of excrement as well. I shake her off like a cobweb and walk back to my chair. My dad doesn’t even look at her and stares straight ahead. She says her good byes and shuffles back to her room. “Aw man! Was it just me or did she smell like shit?! I think she did! Goddamn it even if she doesn’t, she will always smell like shit to me now! SHIT!”
“I didn’t smell her, I didn’t even want to look at her,” my dad says while making a face one would make…well, after cleaning up a bucket of shit!

To this day I try not to linger in the garage and if I do have to venture in there I try not to go around the coke machine or look at the ground near it. I also try to avoid my grandmother when I visit but I’m not always so lucky. No matter how much time goes by and how pristine my grandmother may appear, she will always smell like shit to me, and that’s pretty shitty.

DJB

Did you EAR the one about the R.E.M. bassist?..

2005-02-23T18:42:00.000-08:00

I'm not really into posting articles and such, but this one actually pertains to one of my prior entries. Well, kind of at least...

REM's bass player rushed to hospital

REM were forced to cancel a UK show on Monday night after bass player Mike Mills was rushed to hospital.

The musician collapsed just an hour before the American rockers were due to go onstage in Sheffield and was immediately taken to the nearest medical centre.

A spokesperson for the group said: "Mike could hardly stand up let alone play."

After arriving at the hospital, Mills complained to doctors he was suffering from severe flu symptoms and loss of balance and after being given a thorough medical examination was diagnosed as suffering from an ear infection.

Mills' illness left 12 000 fans, who had battled through a blizzard to get to the venue, devastated and fearing they would be going home bitterly disappointed.

However, fellow bandmates, singer Michael Stipe and guitarist Peter Buck, came out to explain the situation and treated fans to a short acoustic set of the band's classic hits.

The two musicians performed The One I Love, Leaving New York, I've Been High and Losing My Religion before walking off to rapturous applause.

The concert has now been re-scheduled for June 15, although it is believed Mills should be well enough to play in Glasgow, in Scotland, on Tuesday night.

The group's spokesperson added: "The band feels terrible about having to cancel the show at the last minute. Anyone who has a ticket for the show should hold on to their ticket stub and they will gain entry."

Poor Mike. THAT SHIT HURTS LIKE A BITCH DON'T IT MIGUEL!?
Imagine that?! I gets me the same illness as superstars AND I have a bass guitar! Damn that Jesus, he doesn't play favorites do he?

DJB

"V" the final battle and Chuck-ing the old boyfriend in the trash...

2005-02-23T13:20:00.000-08:00

Last night I decide to go to my good buddy the Redman's house for quality buddy time...and to dump some CD's in my MP3 player. The Redman is a stand up loyal buddy and he has been more and more domesticated by his fiance' in the last couple of years. His fiance', I-huey (pronounced "eee-way", or "Ewok" as I call her), is also a nice lady and what makes her even more amusing is the fact that she is from China. Now I don't mean she is Chinese only, she is authentic 100% Chinese and still new to some of our crappy American culture and customs. Now don't go thinking that the Redman is only marrying his lady to keep her in the country (I already thought that a year ago. It ain't true). It is true love, the kind of true love that makes you sick to your stomach when you are subjected to their cutesy conversation and in your face PDA. I must also mention the little lady that rounds out the trio. She goes by the handle "Ting-ting" and to be frank, I'm not sure if that's her real name or a variation of her real name. Wee little Ting-ting is almost 5 yrs old and from what I've seen, runs soley on yoo-hoo and candy. She even has false teeth already. I think the mind set is "she's going to lose her teeth anyway right?" and I think it's funny she has caps so I don't preach. So there you have it, a little background on last nights gracious hosts.

Seeing as how Ewok is from China this means most of the people she knows out here are from China as well. Some speak good English and some just speak. When these little scamps get together it sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher talking in different octaves. Don't get me wrong, they are sweet as sugar, but you just expect to hear the ringing of a gong after everything they say.

When I finally arrive at the Redman's house he tells me Ewok is going to have some of her friends over. For some reasons mentioned above I was already smiling in anticipation to meet them. I forget the lady's name that arrived first but I do remember that she was 40 years old AND A VIRGIN!!! Just that little chunk of information was enough to blow me away! How in the hell does that even happen?! My mind was racing with questions, "was she cute?" "is she a nun or a monk?" "doesn't she get the horns?" and other questions which I apparently thought out loud. The Redman just chuckled and told me he didn't really know what her deal was (while trying to hide the fact that he was baffled by this enigma as well) and would only say "she's...plain" when asked if she was attractive. I HAD to meet this woman, maybe even help her out (wink wink).

After about a half an hour I hear someone arrive (I was in the spare room downloading CD's) and I realize the moment of truth is at hand. I can even say there was a bit of excitement in knowing that parts of the mystery will finally be solved. "DAMON! Come in the living room" Ewok yells to me and snaps me out of my daydream, "OK" I answer back. I shuffle into the living room in my normal bad posture stride and meet lady "V". I will fess up about being a little disappointed that she wasn't a total knockout, but she was a really shy sweet lady. If you haven't picked up on it yet, I'm really terrible with remembering names...and everything else at times. (See MM review) Since I can't remember it I will refer to her as "V".

V shakes my hand and practically bows while barely making eye contact. Her English isn't very good but she still manages to smile and give a soft spoken "hello". I give a hearty handshake and try to give a non-monotone greeting. I can tell by her body language that she is probably sheltered, very shy and prefers not having long conversations in English. Ewok tells me that V has brought some Chinese food so to grab a plate. V nods her head in agreement. This is also a treat because I knew the food was going to be tasty. Think about it, would a strongly cultured Chinese lady NOT know a good Chinese food place? Shit, I'm 100% white washed Mexican and even I know where to get some dope ass wetback eats! Like I expected, the food was delicious. I know for a fact there was; white rice, gung pow chicken and chow mien. The other stuff could have been rat dicks and hobo buttholes in brown sauce for all I know? Whatever, it was simply divine and maybe it's better I don't know what the other selections were because I had 2 servings. We all sit at the table and as much as the Redman and I tried to make small talk with V we just couldn't make it happen. I honestly believed she wanted to talk with us but was a little self conscious about her English. When I first laid my peepers on the feast spread out on the table I tell her "MMM, where is this from?" she kind of hesitates, then points to herself and says, "where...am I from?" I give a little laugh because I thought it was such an innocent mistake (not to mention I tend to talk like I just recovered from a stroke so this was probably another hurdle for her) and tell her "no, the food" to which she just smiled and looked down at her plate while whispering a soft "oh". I started to really feel kind of down because although she was a little odd, she was a genuinely nice and VERY sheltered person. VERY sheltered. Ewok finally grabs the reigns and starts chatting up a storm with "V" so she isn't left talking to us assholes.

During their conversation Ewok tells me that another of her pals is coming over. Now this girls name was Harriett and was...CHINESE! I had actually heard of this girl before because she was supposedly cute and pretty tall. At some other shin dig E&R had she had been roaming around and I vaguely recall seeing her. I was pretty pickled this night too and from what hazy memories I could conjure up there was a slight vision of cuteness in there somewhere. When her name was dropped by either Ewok or Redman I would ask if she was cute and what her deal was. Ewok would excitedly tell me that I should meet her, where as Redman would say "She's cute...but she could use a little dental work." I usually only take the Redmans criticisms of ladies as half truths and shrug it off. Lady H wasn't coming over for a social visit, or to oogled by goofy Mexican guys. No, Harriett was on her way over to gather up some escorts so she could reclaim some of her goods from MIKODO, the boyfriend she just dumped. (MEE-KOE-DOE! insert drawn out Chinese accent here) Seems Mikodo wasn't quite ready to be dumped and was, what us round-eyes call, FREAKING OUT! He was coming off rather creepy and telling Harriett things like he wouldn't give her her belongings, he wasn't going to let her go and something about chopping her up into little bits and serving her in fried rice to her friends. If it was tasty I wouldn't have minded. Ewok, being the bestest friend that she is, told her to come over and her and the Redman would drive her over to Mocoso's house so she wouldn't get killded.

It seems like quite some time had passed and no Harriett? The night was pouring down water like God had busted a pipe and Ewok seemed a little concerned about her buddy. A little bit of worry later Harriett calls and says she is on her way and nervous about going over to her Ex's house. Ewok assures her everything will be OK and that the Redmans friend was over and he was a big guy so he would go along with them. The friend was me, and if by big guy she meant tall chubby guy with posture like Shaggy from Scooby Doo than she was right on the money. I give her the "what the fuck are you talking about" face and she just waves me down. When she finally gets off the phone she starts to give me some B.S. about "oh, you don't want anything to happen to her do you? You can just stand there. C'mon Damon, pleeease!?" She might have a point I think to myself and after a bit of pondering I tell her "FUCK THAT SHIT! I don't know this girl! AND if she has some nutty boyfriend why would I want to get a cap busted in me?!" The Ewok looks a bit dismayed by this and I cave in. I mean, she did open her house to me and I had a wonderful Chinese dinner compliments of V, so I reluctantly agreed and moped back to my CD copying. As I walk away I see a smirk on the Redmans face and I can actually feel the heel of my shoe wiping it away.

As I sit in the other room "ripping" CD's to my MP3 player I hear some of the banter going on in the living room. At some point during the conversation I hear the Redman ask, "where is Harriett?" and Ewok replies with, "Oh, Chuck is dropping her off"
"Who's Chuck?" the Redman rightfully asks
"That's her new boyfriend, he's dropping her off..." the Ewok quickly blurts out
I feel a sudden burst of nausea and rage over come me as Ewok's last words sink in. HER BOYFRIEND!? CHUCK?! I don't know what was more irritating, that she was playing the sceered ex-girlfriend role knowing she was already hugged up with a new guy, The new guy "Chuck" just dropping her off to fend for herself while she dealt with Nutty McCuckoo, or the fact that an Asian guy was named "Chuck"? Who cared? I jumped out of my seat and power walked into the living room. "Did I just hear you right? Her boyfriend is dropping her off? Why the hell isn't he going with her to her Ex's house? Why am I going to her Ex's house to take Chuck's bullet? Is his name really Chuck?!" The Redman is snickering with amusement while I continue my griping.
"She already has a new guy right? Well no wonder Mikodo is going nuts!"
Ewok- "No, he doesn't know about Chuck. This is why he's not going to go"
"That doesn't make any fucking sense! Guess what? Mikodo don't know shit about Damon either! And I'm not even poking his lady! So why should I go instead of Chuck. Chuck obviously knows about Mikodo so it's only fair he goes!" After this little exchange I hear a couple of soft giggles from V and the Redman throws out a "that's what I'm saying" or something of that nature.

Now I'm peeved and can't wait to meet this Harriett. She had better be some kind of unbelievable cutie if I'm even going to think about joining the carpool to Mikodo's. I go back to my business and after a few mins. I hear a knock at the door followed by two new voices. The sinners had arrived. Right away I get the call from Ewok to meet the two heartbreakers. Quick side note, when Ewok calls out for me when her company arrives it makes me feel like a baby Huey computer nerd. Could you imagine being at someone's house and being summoned like your some fucking mongaloid?

I step into the living room again to meet the new arrivals and notice that Harriett is actually attractive. Not breathtaking, but attractive. She smiles, Ewok introduces me and I smile and wave hello. Harriett waves back and says "Hello Damon". WHAT THE FUCK?! As she opens her mouth to speak I feel a little shit nugget fall down my pant leg and my brow crumples with fear and awe. Some one had obviously taken Harriett's teeth and replaced them with tombstones from a haunted graveyard! Note to self: Take the Redman a little more serious when he critiques the ladies. I quickly turn my mortified gaze to the little Asian man standing next to her. "Damon, this is Chuck" Ewok blurts out while giving an arm motion towards him like he was some game show prize. I just gave him a eyebrow raise and a heads up nod. "Little sumbitch" I thought to myself as I stood there. As Ewok starts to talk to Graveyard Grill and Chuck I do an about face and go to the other room and back to my CD's. If I wasn't sure before, I was definitely sure after meeting the dynamic duo that I wasn't going anywhere. Fuck 'em both. It was just plain rude dragging everyone into their drama, especially when it was stormy weather outside AND I was trying to copy CD's.

Just before they are all about to leave, Ewoks yells back to me "DAMON! Are you going to go with us?" (with a touch of amusement in her voice)
"Naw. I don't think it's a good idea if I go. Let Chuck take the bullet..."
A moment of silence..."OK! Stay as long as you want and if you leave just go ahead and lock up"
"Ok, good luck"

After talking with the Redman after their trip to Mikodo's he confirms that Chuck did indeed drop Harriett off and went home. Harriett forgot her key to get in the apartment complex where Mikodo's dojo was and ended up just getting her car. What a fucking joke! I think Mikodo had locked himself in the house or something and for some reason that amused me, I was becoming a Mikodo fan. At the end of the night I saw the irony in the evening. Here was this 40 year old virgin who was so strong into her culture that she was keeping herself "pure" for when she finally decided to give up the goods to some hombre. Then you had Harriett, some one else who had the same culture as V yet was screwing one guy, then finding a new man and screwing the other guy over! There was no pride with Harriett, she wasn't as naive as V, yet played the victim to her friends. And this Chuck fellow, what a puss, actually shame on Toothy McToothtooth and Chuck! How disrespectful they were to poor little Mikodo.

My eyes have been open to the fact that havng no class isn't just an American thing, it is known world wide. What a treat.

My only regret for the night was not thanking V for the fine cuisine she brought over (she had skipped out like a ninja on the run and I didn't know) and getting caught up in some bizarre drama which costs me a few CD downloads.

Oh yeah, I'm supposed to be teamed up with Shark Teef at the Redman and Ewok's wedding! Curses! Unless she can do a mean robot I don't think I like her.

DJB

Getting Hitch-ed, I’m so SAW-ree and sneaking a peek at Che’s “diaries”. The Week-end Review Round-up…

2005-02-22T08:50:00.000-08:00

MOVIES:

Hitch

Before the badgering starts, let me explain why I even saw this flick. It’s easy actually…MOVIE PASSES! Movies Passes are like a blessing from the Pope and pretty much allow you to see any movie without feeling the guilt of spending money on it, which brings us to our review of "Hitch".

I’m no Will Smith hater and I actually enjoy some of his movies. I think one of the main reasons I don’t like watching him in movies where he is playing a slick good-looking ladies man for over an hour and a half is Jada Pinkett Smith. Knowing that if this movie is a smash we are going to have to suffer seeing her ugly mug on the television machine getting all sista-girl "Uh-huh, my man know’s how to BRING it!" to everyone who asks her if Will is anything like the character he plays just gets me so mad I want to punch a baby! Uh, back to the review.

The movie starts off with "Hitch" talking to the camera explaining how he helps goofy guys get the girls of their dreams. Talking to the audience is a tricky set up, it either works or it doesn’t (a good example is "Ferris Bueller’s Day Off". That is looking into the camera perfection). In the case of "Hitch" it’s ok, it doesn’t bother you but you also don’t need to see 5 foot tall Will Smith head all up in your grill. They could have panned back a little. The "losers" they show pining after the apples of their eyes are a little hard to believe. Most of the ladies are really good looking and the guys are your stereo-type geeks, but they have hearts of gold and that’s all that matters…right? It’s a basic intro in the character and the plot so it gels.

After all this is established we get the intro in the main lady of the movie, Eva Mendes. To be honest I don’t recall what her name was in the movie? This might say something eh? She waltzes around New York and into her work building with the kind of confidence that lets you know she is an example of today’s woman - confident, successful, smart and all while being able to keep up the sexy factor! YOU GO GIRL! She works for a gossip magazine and is such a work horse that she comes back from vacation EARLY just to get back to what she does best. Her job. I don’t know if I don’t care for her character in the movie or her as an actress. I used the think she was the bee's knees when say her full on buck naked in "Training Day" but most of that was because she knew how to work 80’s muff. After getting a good glimpse of her from media spots and in this movie… I no like her so good! That’s just my opinion though and if you feel different please let me know so I can smash your face in and kick your jaw shut for disagreeing.

So far we learn, Hitch = Loveable guy we all wish we could be like, Eva Mendes = Tough career driven toothy broad who doesn’t have time for love. Hmm, wonder where this plot is going?
Funny thing about this flick is that they cover all bases. Right after you start to wonder how in the hell Hitch lives so lavishly you find out he is a consultant. I guess I can’t get into too many examples of what I’m talking about now that I think of it because it would spoil the movie for you. But know that they do a good job of trying to fill in any holes in the story.

Now we meet Kevin James’s character, Ken. I think it’s Ken? He is a financial advisor for a rich heiress, whom he happens to be in love with too! Ahh, the plot thickens! Now what would a fat schlub like Ken do to ease his aching heart and get him some Heiress lovin? Why gets himself some HITCH! Duh. This another point of the movie where you might think "Man, that hitch will help anyone out won’t he?!" Oh no he don’t! Now we see Hitch meet up with this smarmy guy who claims he needs Hitch’s help scoring a chick he met so he can "bang" her. SAY WHAT!? Hitch don’t roll that way people and he lets the guy know that he helps people get into relationships not easy lays. The hombre gets irritated and tries to get tough with Hitch but he gots another thing coming. Hitch grabs the guys arm and slams him into a table telling him nice guy crap while looking tough the whole time. Kudos’s to you Hitch, always looking out for the ladies!

To be honest, the movie was rather amusing in the beginning and all of the sudden WHAM! It get’s preachy and cheesy. Cheesier than the back of Jerry Hall’s legs! Hitch comes off as an alright guy in the beginning of the flick but by the middle and near the end of the movies you just want to give him a heart felt "OK! I GET IT! SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!" Eva Mendes in even more annoying as the movie progresses too. Her tough chick crap gets old and she is such a drama queen you just don’t care about her. On top of all this, she goes and screws Hitch and Ken over in a shitty way by writing some B.S. in her gossip mag. After she is proven wrong and everyone is reserving their rooms in Heartbreak Hotel she tries to get her back some Hitch. But she never writes a retraction or even apologizes to the other people she just F’d over! I swear it made you just want to choke a bitch.

The movie ends on a positive note, not to mention that the end is the funniest part of the whole flick. I won’t say much about it except this. I LOVE A GIRL WHO CAN DO THE ROBOT WITH EASE! Seriously, if any of you ladies out there can pull off a wicked robot I think there is a good chance we might be getting married and screwing like wild monkeys! Well, you’d have to be cute too…sorry. Kevin James is also good stuff. He is the new funny fat guy for 2005 and I’m sure he’ll be making more flicks soon. I say this movie will translate better when it premiers on STARZ or some cable channel like that.

Hitch- ***Stars. One star was for the chick doing the robot. I think I love her.

SAW

What a piece of shit. Really, I’m not even going to beat around the bush on this one. I would have been better off drinking a tall glass of milk and then squatting over my DVD player to drop a load in the disc tray. (I’m lactose intolerant by the way) I’m a HUGE fan of scary movies and psychological thrillers so I was pretty excited to see this movie. What a kick in the gooch it turned out to be. This is one of those movies that is riding it’s success from the last 10 minutes of the movie. People stir in boredom during the first ¾ of the movie and then when the last minutes happen it’s so good that they forgot the majority of the movie sucked. Well friends, I remembered! Even after 10 beers and the last of the medical maryjane I knew it sucked! I was even sober by the end credits.

This movie starts of with some guy waking up in bathroom so gross you’d think he was in an Asian restaurant. He’s pretty beat up looking , barefoot and chained by his ankle to a pipe! This cat is played by Cary Elwes (from Princess Bride fame) and eghads has he aged! I don’t think it’s so much that he’s aged badly as much as it’s the fact that I was a teenager when Princess Bride came out. Well if you do the math that was some time ago and the years were not friendly to Mr. Elwes…and I too am older and jaded. Cary hears someone else in the room and scrambles around finding a light. When the lights come on you see there is another guy across the room who is also chained to a pipe by his ankle. They both look at each other and then freak out because in between the space across the room and them is a body with a pool of blood coming out his head and a gun in his hand. Puzzled and scared they find that each of them has a tape in their pocket with "play me" written on it. This is where the movie lets us know there is a killer involved!

Enter Dannys Glovers and the Asian guy who kidnaped the little girl in "Rush Hour". I don’t know his name, but he’s Asian and has yellow hair in that movie. In this one he has black hair and is Dannys Glovers padna! They are cops who are investigating a lead on a killer…THE SAME KILLER WHO HAS LOCKED UP BOTH OF THE GENTLEMEN IN THE DIRTY RESTAURANT BATHROOM! Sca-wee. It was at this point I decided to fix myself a taco and have another beer.

The movie goes back to the two fellas who’re locked up and they each have a series of flashbacks that tell a little bit about their backgrounds and why they might have been chosen by the killer. They also play the tape where the killer, in his deep killer voice, tells Cary that he has to kill the other guy. The other guy (again, I can’t remember his name) is jipped because his tape just says "don’t get killded!" After a few flashbacks the film makers let you know that Cary is a doctor who’s being watched by the fuzz, the other chained up palooka was a photographer hired to trail Cary. Who hired the photographer? THE KILLER! Again, sca-wee. Dannys Glovers character gets a little background flashback which end up taking you to the current Dannys Glovers. I hate to sound redundant, but I can’t get into too much detail with out boring the fuck out of my computer and anything or anyone else who has to read about this shitty movie.

Now that I read about the movie I realize I hated it. I hate it so much writing about it seems beneath me and I’m just going to stop right here! If you absolutely have to see this movie then do so, but if you find you are as disgusted with this vile piece of shit like I was then just forward to the last few minutes of this movie and that’s all you will really need to see. You shouldn’t even feel like you are in the dark on some parts. Perhaps if they added a cute girl doing the robot I wouldn't give such a scathing revue, but since there wasn’t I would have preferred playing Russian roulette in the Hanoi hotel. It really depresses me to know that movies like SAW are what the American audience is eating up. It’s movies like this that make me glad movies like "The Shining" "Silence of the Lambs" and others of this caliber are available on DVD. I know the last part of this review took a nasty profane turn, but it's only due to the fact that my dog just ate some cd's and a remote control...and I hated the movie.

SAW - *Star. A brown star at that.

The Motorcycle Diaries

Right off the bat you should know this is a foreign film. This means it will have sub-titles so if you don’t like to read or are one of those people who say "It’s too much work reading and watching the movie at the same time" then skip this review all together. It wasn’t meant for you. As for the rest of you, read on! This movie was El Caliente!

Basically this movie is a visual diary of the events that took place on a road trip with a young Ernesto Guevara de la Serna (Che' Guevara if you didn't already know) and his friend Alberto Granado. The only stuff I really knew about Che’ is that he was a leader and that he was briefly mentioned in David Bowie’s "Panic in Detroit". (looks a lot like Che’ Guevara, drove a diesel van) This movie, if it’s as accurate as I like to believe, has given me an appreciation for the little guy. It even makes me ignore the fact that he had such terrible facial hair as he got older. I think this is a movie that will be shown in classrooms for the next few years because it doesn’t really only deal with Che’ but it’s also a chronicle of what times were like in South America way back when.
It starts off with young Ernesto leaving with Alberto on a road trip to - I forget - before Alberto's 30th birthday. Now Ernesto's family isn't poor, even by American standards and Ernesto was on his way to finishing medical school to become a doctor. Alberto is already a doctor, actually a biochemist. Alberto shows up on this nice motorcycle and as Ernesto is saying his goodbye's before the trip his mother makes sure to have Alberto promise to look after his son. Just after this Alberto almost smacks him and Ernesto into the side of a bus. But they are ok and on their way. Right away I found myself forgetting it was a foreign film, which sometimes seem kind of low budget and shotty, and was actually easily sucked into the story. Everything about the movie is clean looking and the actors are all so natural in their roles you feel like your just watching things happen in real time.

Ernesto and Alberto are good friends yet they are VERY different in their views of everyday situations. Ernesto, having grown up in a life of privilege, approaches situations and setting like he is out to absorb what life has to offer. Alberto just wants what ever he can get and doesn't care if he has to con people to get it. This is evident in one scene where our two travelers, while looking for shelter and food, end up at a farm with an older gentleman and his wife. Alberto states that hey are two doctors on their way to (I forget the city. SHIT! It was in South America! How am I supposed to remember the names of towns) and working on a cure for a vile bacteria. The old man seems surprised and in an excited manner asks the two if they are really doctors. They both assure him they are and the Old guy asks them to look at a lump on his neck. Alberto doesn't want to ruin the chance of getting free food and lodging so he give it a quick look over and tells the guy it is only a boil and he shouldn't worry about it. Ernest seems a little more curious about the bump and gives it a more thorough inspection. Finally he tells the old man that it's a tumor and he should get it inspected at a hospital quickly. The old man gets a look of worry and fear in his eyes and Alberto see's this so he quickly blurts out "oh, it's only a cyst. It just filled with fluid, no big deal" while throwing Ernesto a "what the fuck are you doing" glance. Ernest ignores Alberto and insists it's a tumor and should be checked out. Finally the old man, who is a bit startled by Ernesto's diagnosis, tells them they can sleep in the barn and fish in the lake for food before storming into his house. Alberto is pissed and goes off on Ernesto about fucking his shit up. Ernest says he can't lie and the old man needed to know. This is early on is in their adventures and you can already see that Ernesto is getting a taste of what the world is really about.

Their trips take them to many locations where they meet many folks, sometimes out of need, sometimes out of chance and sometimes out of scamming. I wont' give up too many details of these accounts but I will touch on when they end up at a leper colony.
Lepers. Holy shit! What a creepy bunch of people. I think they got real lepers for the movie too! It's bad enough lazy eyes and deformities give me the willies, but even if I had to only "act" with an island full of lepers I don't think I'd ever get out of the fetal positions and stop shaking . This is a good part of the movie because by this time you get that Ernesto is slowly becoming Che' and the he'll be an important figure in his later years. There is also a hint of growing with Alberto from the time he has spent with Ernesto and you get the idea he knows Ernesto is going to be somebody special in the coming years.

One of the best things about the movie is the cinematography. The locations are B-U-tiful and if you don't crave taking a no holds bar road trip then you area a fool, or a cripple, either way there is something wrong with you. At the end of the movie they show black and white still shots of all the people that were encountered during Ernesto's and Alberto's travels and what makes them cool is that although they look like black and white photos, they are actually just the people standing still while being filmed. I know I would be the guy who fucked up the whole shot by rocking back and forth so I give kudos to all those who stood still. What made an impact on me was during the final credits. As the credits roll you see the actual pictures Che' and Alberto took while on the road trip the movie was based on. This made me feel like it wasn't all polished Hollywood bull shit and also made me appreciate the real people involved and referenced in the film. Like I mentioned before, I didn't know much about Che' Guevara, but after seeing this movie I will make it a point to read more about him.

The Motorcycle Diaries - ****Stars. SEE IT! NOW DAMN YOU!

DJB

Night of the Hunter...

2005-02-21T08:56:00.000-08:00

Today I heard the sad news that Hunter S. Thompson committed suicide with a self inflicted gunshot wound. Now for those of you who don't know, Mr. Thompson is most famous for his book "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas"...you know, the movie with Johnny Depp?! (sadly I know some people went "Oh! THAT guy!" when I threw monsieur Depp's name out there) I always found the cat amusing and I'm probably a couple of generations deep from people who've admired him for years beyond my existence. Perhaps it has more of an impact because the artists I grew up with are slowly dropping dead. From Joe Strummer, Hunter S. Thompson and River Phoenix. The people we spent our adolescence with are leaving us behind to drown in the personas of people like Brittney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, J.Lo, Good Charlotte and any famous guy who's starred in a movie with these folks or who's worn a baseball cap that's 2 sizes too big sideways.

So today this will be my only post and I will have all others available tomorrow. This is in observance of H.S.T.'s death.

To you Mr. Thompson I bid thee farewell. Good night sweet drunk, stoned, crazy prince.

DJB

Crazy little thing called love...

2005-02-18T14:41:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's because I'm getting older, maybe it's because I'm not old enough to know better? Whatever the reason I seemed to have fallen in love at first sight. This little lady has made a profound impression on me and I can't wait till we drive down Las Vegas blvd. looking for a chapel to seal our futures then abandon all our family and friends so we can focus on our bliss for each other! As the british would say, "Miss McDonald! Uht luhve ye!"

http://www.livejournal.com/users/miss_mcdonald/

DJB

Doing my part to support the troops...

2005-02-18T11:23:00.000-08:00

The following was a letter I wrote to a buddy of mine who was doing his patriotic duty to help keep America from being blowed up! He's a good kid and one of his few requests was to have letters written to him while he was away. Written letters mind you, not e-mails, because I can only assume an e-mail doesn't always feel as personal as a hand written letter. Well, I did the best I could. Stay tuned, because I promised to finish the second half of this tale and seeing as how I'm a man of my word...I'll try my best. Enjoy.

and so it begins:

Hey my little pubic hair covered sugar cube,

So word on the street is you need some written interaction with the outside world eh? I would hand write you a letter, but after a while I get lazy and my writing starts to look like I was writing with my feet while my toes were cramped. If I type out a letter it makes it look like I’m working, which in turn gives me ample time to write out pointless ramblings for your reading pleasure. I will also apologize in advance for any type-o’s, I tend to type quick and only fiarly accurate. To be honest, last time I’ve actually written a letter to someone was when I was in the 5th grade.

We were given an assignment to write a letter telling a little something about ourselves and these letters in turn would be given to students in another school to sort through and reply with. I can loosely recall having some hope that a cute girl who was really into transformers and didn’t have hair on her fingers would snatch up my letter and the rest would be unimaginable bliss. Again, I was in the 5th grade and probably had a better chance of getting diddled by the local ice-cream man who had man boobs. SOOO, after a week or two we get our letters back and to my surprise the lucky chap who picked my letter was also given the cursed moniker of DAMON! I would have been ecstatic at this point if it wasn’t for the little asshole who lived next door to me. His name was Amen Bejhrens (my name is Damon Barron. In case you forgot). He was pretty much the same build except he was white and blond. If this kid was any bigger of an asshole he would have been inside out. Alas his story will be left for another day.

I don’t really remember the cross-town DAMON’s last name but the letter was your basic kid bullshit. “ I really like star wars. Do you like star wars? My favorite movie is Last Starfighter. Have you seen Last Starfighter? I have a BMX. What kind of bike do you have? Do you have a brother or sister? What is your school like? I think it’s cool that we both are named Damon!” I knew this guy was full of shit when he threw in that crap about how cool it was to both be named Damon. I was only in the fifth grade but had enough variations of my name, given by kids and ignorant adults non-the-less, under my belt to despise the name Damon (and the last name Barron too) that I had tried to get my parents to refer to me as D.J. Barron. I thought that was hip and had a classy ring to it when yelled across a mall or field, “HEY DJ! WHAT’S UP!?” “Yo DJ?! You coming over after school?!” This sounded like heaven, until my father felt the need to say it while drawing out the two simple letters, “Oh, that’s what you want us to call you now? No problem DEEEEE JAAAAAY!” “DEEEEE JAAAAY! Want some Mcdonald’s?” LISA! Stop teasing DEEEE JAAAAY!” I’d say the nickname lasted less than a week before I went back to Damon. HA HA DAD! JOKES ON YOU! YOUR GAY NOW AND I’M NOT! Bastard.

We write back and forth for a couple of months and what was casual interest in writing to someone who I’d never met slowly turned into a chore. I hated writing this kid! He never had anything entertaining to say! All this kid did was write something about what he liked and then ask if I liked it too? I remember getting pissed because we HAD to write him a full effing page of kid banter! Finally after his last bit of literary masterpiece I get fed up and blast him into tiny bits with a scathing letter letting him know that he is the most annoying pen pal I’d ever had. Knowing full well he was the only pen pal I’d ever had I wasn’t about to let him know that I lost my pen pal cherry to some cross town tard! I was prepared to make up stories of prison pen pals who send me broken smokes lifted off someone they shived for their scoop of apple sauce in the mess hall. I really let this kid have it. There was no stopping the fury of my thick ass blue lead pencil as the pent up anger and frustration from situations beyond him being my pen pal was channeling through my fingertips into the pencil and onto my brown writing paper. I can remember looking up and seeing other kids smiling and making little doodles with crap like BFF written underneath them as they wrote to their “cool” pen pals. NO, NO! I had to hear about how my pen pal got to finally be B.A. Barracus when the kids on his block played “A-team”. I think I ended the letter with “If you don’t have anything cool to write then I’m going to ask for another pen pal!” I merrily walk my envelope up to my teacher and sat back at my desk with the satisfaction of knowing that I might 1) get a new pen pal or 2) get a fun letter with some sort of treat included in it like that damn Brian who sat across from me got! What was the deal with that!? We all knew he was queer! What the hell could he have been writing to this pen pal of his?!!

A week or so after our letters were sent our teacher announces she has a BIG surprise for us! Beaming, she proceed to tell us how our last letters were sent out and instead of our pen pals replying, we were going to go to their school and meet them in person!!! She even followed it up with a “ISN’T THAT GREAT!?” Some kids squealed with joy while others high fived or pulled their fists into their sides while letting out an excited “YESSS!” What did I do you ask? Well I just winced and grabbed my stomach. What effing luck! I send out a scolding letter and now I have to meet the guy?! What if he was furious and wanted to kick my ass?! What if he didn’t? I still had to spend the whole fricken afternoon with him talking about why he thought go-bot’s were waaay cooler than Transformers! (which they weren’t) I was mortified and already thought of how I was going to have to feign illness and skip out on this dreaded school trip…

TO BE CONTINUED

Well Kevin, I have to get back to work now. I will make sure to finish up the story and perhaps provide some more sunshine on your front porch with another tale from the life of DJB.

Have a great Holiday and be safe! I’ll chat with you later.

Your Friend in Middle Earth,

DJB

The Fresh Prince of Hot Air...

2005-02-17T09:36:00.000-08:00

Here is a story that seems to be a favortie amongst some friends and other peeps. Now the guy we are talking about is an ULTRA annoying co-worker, yet I still find myself unable to be mean to him. Maybe this is why I am stressed out all the time...or at least that's what my shrink says. Well, he took over this one broads position here in my office and ever since day 1 he has been a "big baller, shot caller". Only thing is, this guy is so full of crap he looks like a shit sausage!

In the brief tale you'll see the term FGB, this stands for FAT GUY BREATH. This is when robust folk can't even tie their shoes without coming up for air like they were free divers or something. Pardon the type-o's as well, I wrote it up in a rush. Enjoy!

DJB

>>> Damon Barron 01/24/05 01:10PM >>>
Sooo...

The week Kara and Pepper were off kicking up their vacation heels I get stuck in the office by myself. Actually, I wasn't alone. The other "regulars" were: Lynne Dingle Berry, John Guacamole, Stellar Gorilla and Boss Lady Cathi. I felt like I was in an obstacle on Double Dare running through all the padded obstacles only to land face first in the smelly suprise and find out I was a loser! The one thing missing were a fresh pair of REEBOKS! Anyhoochie, on the last day I notice it is quiet, CREEPY quiet and everyone went to lunch except for Sgt. Pepper Belly and myself. Then I had a mental jolt that almost made me leave a silver dollar pee stain on my pantalones. No one is in the office except for John and I. Could there be a chance that I was get hit up for "lunch plans"?! I could already see the shimmy in his chins as he asks me my lunch plans and...AWW SHIT! HE WAS WADDLING OVER!
FGB "What up?" (as his little t-rex arms still bounce slightly from trek over to the other side of the cublicles)
"oh...hey. Not much, just doing some work" (what the hell are those dark splotches on his face all about?! He looks like a bruised Avocado)
FGB "...whatchoo got goin for lunch today?" (insert another FGB and in place fat kid bounce here)
"oh, uh...nothing?"
Now you see here is the dilemma. This isn't the first time Chubbas has invited me to watch him shove food in his gullet, no, he ALWAYS asks me! I just made it a habit to always find something to do. This time wasn't going to be any different...until scruples kicked in. Well, scruples and logic at least. If I accepted his invite than I was good for at least another 2 months before I had to indulge again. I had to bite the bullet and there was no getting around it. ESPECIALLY because we were the only ones in the office. Belive me, I would have rather played strip poker with Stella while jerking my privates with hand full of broken glass, but alas I had to do what I had to do.
"Well, you want to go grab a bite!?" (grab a bite...I hate that expression. More so when bruised faced fat guys throw it around)
"...sure. How about In-n-out? I haven't eaten there in a while" (which was true, but only becuase In-n-out burgers have a knack for almost making shit myself inside out. Mom's had hooked me up with some certificates for the baby Jesus's birfday though so instead of spending my own money on unwanted lunch companions it seemed like an even wash)
"SURE! That's sounds aight! Whenever your ready let's roll!" (brother, you are rolling every time your tits shake as you brush your teeth!)
"...ok...let's go now I guess"

We start our trek to the garage and he offers to drive...HIS MOM'S CAR!!! Really. I suddenly remember that I had gone to lunch with Fat Chance before, and he drove then too! The only reason I uh-member is because he had the gall to throw on some Metallica and start head banging! No shit. He thought we were on our way to our first high school party or something. I'm sure to some bystander looking into the g-ride it looked like an air bag with an old bruised pumpkin shaking on top of it. Oh no, that's just the sight of a true ROCKER! Anywayoffthesubject, we get into mom's taxi and head toward In-n-out. Somehow or another the story gets to what plans we have set for new years. I pretty much tell him that I don't have any major plans, I also realize it isn't about what I had planned either. The question was really just an intro to tell me about what action packed plans he had with his posse. Sure enough he starts to tell me about his plans. It pretty much involves going to hang out in Old Town Pasadena and not having any reservations anywhere in particular so more than likely ending up at some bar where texicans and people kicked out of shelters drown their sorrows. WITH A FAT GUY no less! It's always worse when you end up somewhere crappy and have a hyper fat guy as your sidekick. "Hey! If your plans fall through, you should roll out with us!?"
"Naw, If my plans don't work out I'm going to cover my neck with lunch meat, lie on my back and let the dogs gnaw away. Hopefully they get my juggular before I run out of meat!" Just kidding, I didn't tell him that.
"I'll probably just stay home. Thanks for the invite though"
(Insert awkward silence and me looking out the window like everything is OH so interesting here)
"Soo...you gonna meet up with any ladies there?" I ask.
"(FGB) I got this lady friend that I'm seeing coming along"
"REALLY?!" Now I hadn't intended my reply to sound like I just found out I won the lottery, but I was caught off guard.
"Yeah, were going to get a room down there so I can get as messed up as I want and then let the girlie take care of me after we get our party on!"
"Really?! Is uh...your girl cute?" Really now, how can you not assume the girl is going to be some weird proportioned cha-cha girl with bad dyed hair (maybe a sideways ponytail) and a face that looks like a bee stung it after waking up from sleeping face down in a bucket of pine cones.
"YEAH! She's VERY cute, she just has a lot of baggage..."
"oh..." Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's not cute
"We just hook up once in a while and she doesn't expect anything and I don't either so it's perfect. If she didn't have so much baggage maybe I'd consider more, but she's all messed up"
Hmm, "cute" girl who hangs out with robust hombre and his pals on new years, throws him a little boot knockin because she is horny AND just ignores the fact that he lives with his moms. Yeah, she might have problems. Plus, you know she isn't cute.

It's about now that I can't help getting the visual of a huge bruised face fat guy who probably has so many stretch marks around his belly and armpits that it looks like a bobcat attacked him while he was naked laying on some poor girl while filling her ear with erotic FGB's. And I'm supposed to go eat a burger after this little exchange?! Shit.

We finally get to in-n-out and I'm pleased to see there are many hot young girls getting themselves an ass bomb burger. "heeeey..." AWW JESUS AND BABY JESUS! John see's them too. Now after being put on the verge of nausea by hearing him talking about his lady friend I have to be subjected to his flirting! You know how in movies where they have pedophiles and they are about to take their young victims it makes you cringe? You sit and watch KNOWING the guy is creepy and the kids should just stay away but there is nothing you can do? Well, this is what watching Big Pimpin flirt with girls is like. Naturally being the co-pilot puts me in the position where I have to just shrug my shoulders and give a crooked grin when the poor girl throws me a "who the fuck is this fat bastard talking too! OH MY GOD! It's me!" look.

As we mozy on toward the door two skanky looking broads are approaching the entrance at the same time as us. Big Boy charges right up and opens the door. I just stride right in and leave the girls and Cassanova behind. The girls are on their way into line when FGB's make their way out of John's mouth as he tells them "Sorry ladies, I'll hold the door open for you, but your still gonna have to wait behind us in line!" He proceeds to shimmy his tits with his own laughter not realizing he's the only one laughing. I just turn quickly and act like i've never seen the menu before and don't know what to get. Finally we get to the register and as I open my mouth to give my order Grimace decided to speak first. "Hey Cassy, how your day going today?"
She looks to me, I give a baffled look and she replies, "ok, thanks"
"Just ok?!"
"...um, yeah"
"Well, I hope your day gets better Cassy. I'll have a number one!.." I quickly blurt out so we can cut out the cutesy fat guy shit. She seems relieved and I walk away to let John order.

As our number gets called Chubasaurus Wreck looks out for a couple of seats. It's pretty packed and people are holding seats for whomever they're there with so the pickins is slim. Finally two counter seats open up and we grab them. Chinnigans looks over to a booth and starts making some weird gestures with his hands to someone. I look past the planter and notice he's doing it to some asian lady sitting by herself obviously waiting for someone. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Oh, I was just messing with her asking if she wanted to switch with us"
"..." I just shake my head and hand him his feast.

For having such little arms thrown on his sides it's almost disturbing to watch them hold food up to his mouth. The average person can carry the food up to their mouth and take a bite, but if you have a body the size of the epcot center and arms the size of to small loaves of bread you have to do things a little different. I noticed his head and his arms have a "meet me half-way" deal going on. El Gigante would move his head toward his armpit and then move his hand towards his armpit and POW! large ravenous bites would ensue. It was also amusing how he would tear up his food when it was near his mouth but when it was on the tray he touch it like it was a delicate fabrage' egg, giving the impression he was a delicate eater. Uh, no. He even pulled that lick his finger crap after a few bites too! Gross.

The real kicker was after lunch and the trek back to the office he gives me a high five (well, a low five really...I detest high fives and refused to raise my hands) while he headed for the crapper. I'll leave those visuals to your imagination. (FGB's and all)

THE MAN HIMSELF

the resemblence is uncanny ain't it?

DJB

Shrinky Dinks...

2005-02-16T15:09:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I had the distinct pleasure of meeting with my shrink to discuss what's new and happenin with me. I had the day off of work yesterday (I decided i needed an extra day of vacation and called in) and didn't do much except stay home and relax. I hadn't eaten all day and was getting pretty hungry. My appointment wasn't until 5:45pm and it was only 3:45pm so I didn't know if I could hold off until then. My plan was to go to my appointment and then get some grub on my way back. Why I plan these things out like this I don't know. Around 4pm I crack and call my shrink to see if I can go earlier. The receptionist there is a little cutie pie and for some reason she loves chatting on the phone with me and equally enjoys my visits to the office. She tells me to come on in and that she would put my file ahead of everyone else's. Normally I would feel like I was getting some sort of hook-up, but considering this is where I go to get meds for anxiety it's not something I'll be bragging about to strangers.

The reason I go at such a late time is mainly because I go right after work. After dealing with traffic I make it to his office around 5:30-6pm and I'm usually the last appointment. Of the day. This was the first time I had gone in earlier. What a treat it turned out to be! Like I said earlier, I had the day off so I was looking pretty schlubby. I had been on vacation and when I'm on vacation I don't usually shave and have been known to cruise around with bed head. I still shower and wear clean clothes, but still look like a degenerate regardless. I had my usual uniform of a t-shirt, shorts, sneakers and a hooded sweatshirt on yet I made it look good! Aww yeah. I walk into the office like I'm a regular at a local bar and say my hellos to my little dream machine behind the counter. I take a seat and notice the other "patients". I knew I was in Orange and at my doctors office, but if I hadn't known that I would have sworn I was in the green room of the Maury Povich show. The show where troubled kids get sent to boot camp.

The first person I see is this teenage girl who was dressed like she just got out of some hip-hop street fight to get to her doctor's Appointment. She had a bunch of black shit around her eyes, a greasy bun shoved into a dirty scrunchie, a sweatshirt that was 4 sizes too big for her and was hanging off her shoulders, a tank top that left her belly exposed, baggy dirty white pants and big gangsta kicks that appeared to be made of marshmallow. She was all pissy looking and biting her nails while trying to sit in the fetal position in her chair. Her moms was by her side and was your typical "waspy" type lady. Conservative short hair style, big round plastic framed glasses and plain colored leggings and t-shirt combo. I could already see the chemistry these two had together. If you closed your eyes you could just hear the young princess filling her mom's ear with endearing terms like "FUCK YOU! IF YOU WANT TO SEE A SHRINK THEN YOU GO!" "GOD! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SUCH A BITCH? WE WEREN'T DOING ANYTHING! HE WAS JUST SITTING ON MY BED! I HATE YOU!" and the mom would reply with "Say what you want, but we're still going to see the doctor tomorrow" or "I know you do, but you'll thank me later". The evening would wind down with angry girl doing some baby talk and snuggling up with Mom's on the couch as they both watch "American Idol".

I'm only looking at the girl for a second when I turn my gaze to the mother who saw me glancing at her precious and gives me this look like I was violating her daughter with my eyes. Really, she just looks absolutely disgusted with me. To be honest It caught me a little off guard and I almost chuckled because if she only knew what I was thinking she'd know she was way off the mark. The doctor calls them in and the girl gets up like she is being moved by puppet strings and amazingly zombie walks all the way to the office with her eyes rolled up. The mom follows right behind.

Once they leave I realize there is another cat sitting across the waiting room.

This guy looked like he was in his late 20's but he was fidgity like a young kid. He kept rubbing his hands together like he desperately needed to touch something and tapping his feet at the same time. He was dressed pretty basic - khaki pants, oversized t-shirt and clunky tennis (like the ones you can get at Mervyn's or something). At one point he looks over to a small table and picks up one of the many brochures they have on different types of psych. drugs. He mumbles out loud, "Free Samples...hmm mmmph...ask your doctorrrr..." then gives a look on his face like he's satisfied and puts the brochure back. Shortly after this the Mother and Child reunion come out of their brief meeting with the shrink and Angry Hip-hop stomps out of the office while her mom just smiles at the receptionist and pays her co-pay. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall for her visit I think to myself. The doctor then calls in the fidgity guy. Again I wish I could have been a fly on the wall.

As the guy is walking to the office he reaches up and taps his fingers on the doorway he is walking through. As soon as he gets out sight...he runs back in and taps the top of the doorway another 3 times?! I guess you can add OCD to whatever he was there for too. This made me smile for some reason and I felt like I had missed out on all the other times I had appointments and never got witness the madness that goes on there. No sooner do I finish this bit of pondering when all of the sudden another person walks in. This time it's this skinny lady with curly hair past her shoulders and wearing jeans and long sleeve sweater type shirt. At first she seems perfectly normal but then she speaks. Her movements were a little robotic, but I figured she could have been in an accident or something so I shouldn't really pay attention to that. The receptionist greets her and when she replies she talks in a slow manner and makes quick eye contact and then quickly turns her gaze elsewhere while still talking. She was probably one of those really shy girls who gets nervous at first then violent and starts crying about weird shit like being out of snack packs or something. This one makes me feel bad though because she doesn't seem angry nor does she seem all hyper like the guy who just took off with the doctor. She just had problems. She was talking about release forms or something when Nutty McCuckoo comes out of the doctors office with the energy of a kid who just got to the McDonald Land Playground.

As the girl follows the doctor to his office Tom Arnold lite is making his next appointment. Some of the highlights of his talking to receptionist were: when she asks what day he would like to come in he replies with "well, um, I can only come in on Monday or Thursday...WAIT, I can come in on Tuesdays too. Mondays, Tuesday, Wednesdays and Thursday are ok days. I can come in those days"
I was honestly sitting in anticipation to see if that darn "Friday" was going to get a shout out too. Alas, it didn't.
The other gold nugget was when he realized he didn't get a certain prescription refill. He was explaining to the receptionist that the doctor must have forgot and if the doctor was going to be in with his patient a while because he wanted to ask him some questions. The receptionist tries to explain to him that he had 2 refills and still had one refill left so he didn't need another refill. He wasn't having it though. He then starts to explain to her where maybe the situation got mixed up, "uh...I don't think so. Remember last time I was in and the doctor touched my shoulder and said "you have refills for this medication" and I remember I wasn't sure I understood him. Now that think of it maybe he told me something else. Maybe if I talk to him he can remember. But I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to have another refill?" At this point I notice that the receptionist (who's top of her head and eyes are all I can see from where she was sitting) darts a look my way that clearly says "will someone shut this fucking guy up" and I hide a snicker into my fist. The she drops a bomb. "I don't know what the doctor said last time, but I do remember he told you that he wasn't going to keep refilling your prescription because you weren't following the dosage rules and taking more than two at a time!"
"Huh...maybe. I think I'll wait to talk to the doctor anyway. Ralphs might not have my pills in stock and if he gives me my prescription I need to let them know to get it..."
The receptionist just smiles and tells him ok. At this point I realized that getting my folder bumped up in front of everyone didn't seem to be happening, but I didn't really care because I was well entertained. Robo-chick and the doctor come out and Nutrageous jumps to his feet and is all over the doctor with his gibberish and questions. Dr. Streetfighter slaps him down pretty quick and send him on his way. I wasn't sure the guy was going to leave because when he got to the door he stopped, turned back toward the doctor but then shook his head and walked out.

"DAMON?" I finally hear the doctor call out, even though I'm the only one left in the lounge. I'm still smiling and walk with the doctor to his office. He asks how I'm doing. "Oh I'm alright. Boy, I never really waited in the office while you had some many patients waiting before. You get some crazy folks running around here don't you?!"
"Oh...sometimes yes" as he gives a little laugh.
"soo Damon, what have you been up to..."
As I start to ramble on and keep him up to date on what I've been doing reality hits me like a blacksmith strikes an anvil. He does see some kooky people indeed.

DJB

AVP, easy as 1-2-3, A touch of Gray and weekend with Buds. A weekend review round-up...

2005-02-16T08:31:00.000-08:00

MOVIES:

AVP (alien vs. predator)

Wow. What a gem. Now I knew when I was checking the box to have this movie sent to me that I wasn’t requesting an epic film or anything, but damn! After watching this movie I felt like Christopher Reeves must have felt when he woke up from falling off that horse. How do you fuck up an Alien vs. Predator movie? Even the Predator with Dannys Glovers is good shit! I mean, the creatures basically sell themselves right? You’d think they could just have an hour and a half with just a woman sitting on the shitter screaming as aliens and predators run around her fighting and it’d be entertaining at least. But oh no.

The movies starts off with some guy running away from “something” and from the setting you know its taking place in the past. Then they show the year “1904” and you don’t feel so smug anymore. After that you switch BAM right into a sequence with some black chick (who isn’t too shabby) climbing some glacier and she gets a phone call. She talks on the phone while climbing some huge ice wall using a pickaxe looking thing. From the looks of it, it looks like hard work… if you’re some pussy ass glacier climber! This chick on the other hand was TOUGH! Talking on a cell phone while climbing a glacier while swinging a pick is just how this bitch rolls! Turns out the guy on the phone is on the top of the glacier and they meet up and get in a sleek looking chopper. You KNOW it’s important business when they pick you up as-is and throw you in a whirlybird, right?

They show some other guys get recruited, but it’s just like watching the beginning of the first Jurassic Park so picture those scenarios instead. That’s a far better pic. After a while they are all gathered at this “location” that looks like its some industrial joint. They introduce some other toughies and scientists to the viewers, giving a little bit of individual personality along the way. One of the people is Ewyen Bremmer, who played Spud in “Trainspotting”. This guy was cool in that movie because he played some junkie who was a bit slow, but had a heart of gold. He looked every bit the part too. Well, this movie has Aliens and Predators…no heroin. Not that he isn’t a prime actor or anything, but he was all twitchy and shit in this movie so he might as well have been Spud the junkie. Turns out Spud is a Biochemist or some important shit like that. The others are spiky haired tough chicks, a couple of archeologist guys, and some other tough guys with bad haircuts and scars on their faces. ERRR! TOUGH! Then they’re told why they were all gathered up by…BISHOP! The android from ALIENS! See the connection now? It’s not actually Bishop though, it’s Charles Bishop Weyland. He’s a big time investor and business owner. In the other movies the scientists and companies are all WEYLAND employees or products. ANOTHER CONNECTON! This movie was on a roll. Bishop is just a model of this guy…his father if you will. SOOO, he tells them one of his satellites picked up an image of a pyramid in the middle of the North Pole, or somewhere icy…I forget. So all the people there have their purpose, even the cell phone dialing mountain climber.

A bunch of pointless drama goes on for a bit here and then they all head down to the location of the pyramid. There is obvious build up and finally we see the Predators then after a few climactic running around we see the Aliens. This is pretty much the rest movie EXCEPT for one thing. After a good bit of running around some killings later we are left with the hero of the movie taking charge! Yes that’s right, Cell Phone Glacier girl is the BIG CHEESE in this movie. She is going to be the main surviving hero and the build up is TERRIBLE! Like I said before, there is a bunch of killing and running around so it’s down to the final two human survivors. One of the archeologists and Sista Cell Phone are the only two left. Sista girl tells the main dude that the only way to get out of the situation is to team up with the Predators and give them some guns they found earlier. Sure enough a Predator runs in and when he’s about to snuff the two dem Sista girl yells to him and tells him “HEY! Here’s your gun, now let’s be bestest friends!” After the Predator, who is also a horrible actor, sees her make an ass of herself he decides to take her on as a partner. Now the other guy who was with the girl has been abducted by an alien and we don’t know if he’s alive or not. Back to Sista Girl and Predator (whom I think is a brutha underneath all that Predator gear) who now see eye to eye and The Prizzedator makes his new buddy some weapons. Really, the Predator grabs a dead Alien and rips the head off like a crawdad. Then he takes the Aliens tail and cuts off the spike at the end of the tail to make his new ebony warrior a SPEAR! Are you kidding me!? These Predators have all sorts of lances, guns, knives and throwing discs that cut through cement like butter and the best he can do for his new buddy is make her a racist spear and shield thingy from the alien skull! She looks like one of the kids in Fat Albert getting ready to play hockey in the junkyard. During their pairing up you get to see such profound communication between the superiorly advanced Predator and his Sista Warrior Girl. During one rousing scene he lets her know he has a bomb by holding his fist up to her face…THEN OPENING IT UP! She nods in agreement and now they are connected beyond words. Only warriors know such precise hand movements mean “this is an atom bomb, after this we gots to run like the wind ok?” They run, they escape, they have one last battle and finally the Predators come in a big ass ship to take the last Predator home and reward the Sista Girl (who’s hair has really taken a toll during this adventure and now makes her look like Chaka Khan) with an authentic “I killed a bunch of Aliens and learned to fight like a Predator and all I got was this lousy spear” Predator spear. THE END

What a shame. On a scale of 1* being the worst and 5 *’s being the best I give AVP:
** Stars.

BOOKS:

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
(a leather bound edition too! Ain’t I just oozing with class)

I actually only picked this book up because of my recent affliction of insomnia. I had always wanted to read it because the premise of the story seemed very interesting, but it was still an Oscar Wilde book, so it would have its slow points. I tried an Oscar Wilde book before and think the only reason I did it then was because Morrissey mentioned him a few times. Does that last statement shake a proud hetero pride fist in the air, probably not after re-reading it. Whatever, I still decided to expand my reading horizons.

The story starts out with the banter between an extinguished gentleman and an artist. Right away you could tell the homoerotic overtones between these two men. They talk about this Dorian Gray guy and how when the artist met him he couldn’t get him out of his mind and Dorian was now his muse. He would paint Dorian and only Dorian. He even had Dorian come into his studio, and from the way they talk it happens an awful lot. In my day this would be stalker material, but back in those times I guess it was just friendly admiration. Sure, ok, but what about the guy dropping a load every time he looks at you?! Now that my dear readers is where the flattery ends and the creepiness begins. Not once while he is cooing over Dorian and what he means to him does his buddy butt in with, “WHOA! It sounds to me like your queer for him! What’s up with that? Are you trying to tell me something?!” Instead his buddy, Lord Henry, seems to be falling in love himself – but in a more butch way. A few LOOONG pages of this exchange between the two men I take a break to wipe the blood out of my butthole, then get back to the story…enter Dorian Gray. Now Oscar tries to describe him as this breathtaking Adonis, but the only thing he ends up doing is describing those annoying ultra fem guys who are cherubic in appearance and bitchy in persona. This doesn’t apply to gays or straights either, it’s just a description of a down right no holds bar bitch. The kid is described as having a flawless face, head of curly gold hair and being 18. Now do you understand the “bitch” assumption?

Dorian comes over for his sitting appointment at the Artists (Basil) studio and chats it up with Lord Henry. LH decided he adores Dorian and they must become best friends forever. If I just had to sit in the studio and listen to these three converse with each other I would have longed for the earache situation I just dealt with. If anything I would work on the right ear so I can be 90 % deaf in BOTH ears! Basil tells Dorian he has finally finished the portrait he’s been working on, and he’s spent. He couldn’t paint a bit more and starts to explain how he would rub one out when Dorian wasn’t looking and using his semen as paint so he and Dorian could always be together. Not really, but he might as well have the way he was going on and on. When Dorian finally gets to lay his peepers on the picture he is speechless. How beautiful he looked, he almost made himself cry he was so beautiful (or so he tells himself). At this point Dorian loudly claims he would give his soul to let the picture get old and let him stay young. The way he says it though it just sounds like a fruity kid being loud and talking nonsense. There area few boring chapters after this. Chapters filled with more people admiring how pretty Dorian is and inviting him to dinners and parties. I started to realize that no one ever ate at home? I also thought about how they probably ate roasts and potato’s with good wine and rolls on the table. The kind of meal where there was always a slab of meat and some veggies. It made me hungry, that I know. Anyway, they all seem to go out to dinner and most of them have large amounts of money.

Dorian goes to a theater one night and falls madly in love with some actress he sees performing “Romeo & Juliet”. THIS IS THE ONLY TIME YOU READ ABOUT A GIRL AND A BOY LIKING EACH OTHER IN THE WHOLE BOOK! Really. And when a girl of interest finally comes up, she’s from the slums and working in some run down shitty theatre. She’s poor and lives with her mom, who is also an actress, and they work for some greasy Jew who runs the shitty theatre. That isn’t a racial slight on my part either, they really say the guy is a Jew and greasy? It seems that in the olden days it was the norm to talk about Jews like nobody’s business. I don’t get it.

More chapters on Dorian loving himself and men calling each other names like “delicious” follow for a bit after the first run in. Dorian tells his peeps that he is in love with some actress and he is going to marry her! They seem troubled by it but agree to meet the girl after catching one of her shows. On the other end the girl is telling her moms about how she met “Prince Charming” and is smitten with him…and they are going to be MARRIED! Oscar makes a point to breeze over the age of this young hussy; we find out on the sly that she is the ancient age of 16. She seems juvenile when talking to her mother and brother about a man she is going to marry who she will only refer to by the name “Prince Charming”, but she is only 16 and it makes sense. Dorian on the other hand is even girlier when talking about his lady and he’s supposed to be the guy in relationship, not to mention the book! After all this fawning over each other to their peers and family we go to the big show where Dorian’s comrades will finally get to see the special lady who has won over Dorian’s heart.

At the crumby theatre the greasy Jew is more than excited to see Dorian with his entourage and gives him the royal treatment. Fact is, Dorian has been obsessively catching every show this girl has been in DAILY! More than one show a day. The grizzy Jew thinks Dorian is some big shot and also knows that he has a sweet tooth for his little actress, Sybil. The curtain rises and Sybil gives a performance equal to a diaper full of ass-plosion. Basil and Lord Henry are aghast at the wretched performance and break the news to Dorian. Being the fine example of masculinity that he is, Dorian takes the new rather hard and proceeds to cry to himself aloud and curses the girl. His pals leave and Dorian goes to learn the young girl an important lesson about embarrassing him. He verbally brutalizes the silly young girl, who explains she deliberately gave a shite performance for love, and tells her he wants no part of her and she is a huge mistake. She crumbles, as young girls often do, and he leaves her in disgust.

Dorian goes home and is damn proud of himself for crushing his little piece of ass. He catches a gander of the portrait of him and notices a difference. The lines around his mouth seemed to have changed, but only slightly. They were now giving the illusion of a slight sinister smirk. Evil if you will. He spends a few pages in denial that portrait has changed and more pages are filled with such mind numbing boredom I don’t even recall what I was reading.

Finally it gets back to the juicy part of the story and you find out the next morning that Sybil had killed herself in the theatre and some said it might have been an accident…but Dorian and his peeps know it was that awful curly haired Dorian’s words that sealed her doom. Dorian doesn’t seem to mind and goes about his business. If you haven’t picked up on it yet, Dorian is turning into a real asshole and every time he is a dick to someone or does something shitty his portrait takes the toll and Dorian stays absolutely fabulous! Again the story starts to wonder off in things I could care less about or even understand and somewhere in between years pass and Dorian is getting a reputation for being a creepy guy who frequents dive bars and wears disguises. I only remember this part because I wondered if Michael Jackson has a portrait of himself that is even worse looking that he is. It was very reminiscent of the king of pop in these parts.

The picture gets so vile that Dorian puts it in a private room that only he has the key too. The days go by and Basil stops by to tell Dorian he had a boner for him since day one and he doesn’t like hearing bad things about Dorian in the social circles. Dorian cracks, takes Basil to the secret room and kills him. Yes, kills him! I’m pretty sick of this book by this point but read a few more chapters because I have nothing better to do at 3am. Dorian blackmails a former buddy into disposing of the body and…I GET SOME MEDICAL MARY JANE SO I DON’T HAVE TO FINISH THE BOOK! This is a dandy lead into my final review.

The Picture of Dorian Gray - ** stars. And that’s one extra star for Morrissey.

DRUGS:

Medical Marijuana

Now this is the stuff that is supposed to be the cat’s meow! I’m not really a pothead and I haven’t purchased any greens in…well a month, but it had been almost years before that. I usually take hits off my cousin’s stuff or get a few nuggets thrown my way from friends. If and when I do indulge by my lonesome, it’s usually to get some much-needed sleep. A friend of mine had come into some medical Maryjane from a friend of theirs but had no use for it since pot isn’t their thing. DAMON! Let’s give it to Damon! Yay for me I say, yay for me. I get the offer to get free weed and MEDICAL WEED at that so I snatch it up. I hadn’t slept well in over a week and I was crippled with some freakish ear infection so why not give it a shot. Right off the bat my friend is apologizing for the weak amount of MM they have but I tell them not to sweat it, free is free. This guy really was in the dark about pot and what was considered “a little”. I get the goods and there is EASILY a dime bags worth. Now back in the day I could snap my fingers and roll a joint. I knew all there was to know about Maryjane and had smoked almost every kind of dope you could get in the U-S-of –A. This stuff my friends, this stuff was clean. It was the brightest of green with wondrous amounts of red hairs sprinkled here and there. To top it all off each cluster was covered with crystals and it smelled heavenly. I couldn’t wait to get home.

In almost a ritualistic way I set up my smoking utensils and settle in for the night. Vacation was finally starting and I was ready for it. I was so stoked to be taking something that would help me sleep I almost forgot about the pain on the left side of my head. I clean out my bong and put some nice cool water in the bowl and test the level with a little practice hit on an empty bowl. Perfect. I clean the bowl with a poker and look through to stem and see the light coming in through the hole. Perfect. I refill my Zippo lighter that has a built in pipe attachment and give it a few test lightings. Perfect. Now for the moment of truth. I reach my nimble fingers into the canister and pick out the first nugget. Ever so gently I break off the first little cluster and set it into the bowl. It’s almost like surgery the way I’m being so meticulous with the whole process. I turn the bowl just the right way so that the flame from my lighter will light the top of the whole nugget and not just the sides. I put the top of the bong to my mouth and it feels cool from the ice-cold water I filled it with. Putting the lighter to the bowl I take a huge drag. The air feels cool, but dirty at the same time as it goes into my lungs. When I feel like I don’t have any more breath I pull away from the stem of the bong. I take one final “clean up” hit and hold the smoke for a while. POOF! I blow the smoke out and while doing so I realize how smooth the smoke and taste are. I wasn’t sure just how big a hit I took so I continue to blow smoke out until my lips look like a snooty French waiters. Instantly I feel the head change and the sensation of relaxation works it’s way throughout my body. HOT DAMN! This was some smooth smoking! And tasty too!

I don’t remember much after that except that I finally passed out and got TONS of sleep and woke up at odd times only to drink some water, smoke another bowl and go back to sleep. It felt great and I wasn't all sluggish when I woke up. The only downside to the whole thing was I didn’t eat more than once a day, but on the first day I ate after smoking this heavenly bud I ended up consuming 8 chilidogs. Shit, I had a craving! What would you do if you were in that situation?! Don’t judge.

Medical Marijuana - ****Stars. It would be 5, but seriously, I could have gone to jail getting this stuff.

DJB

Hear, Nor There. Part II of the earache chronicles...

2005-02-13T23:29:00.000-08:00

Well now, how to start? Ok, I’m finally posting some new stuff because the crippling pain of my earache is slowly packing up his belongings in preparation for a long hiatus from tormenting me. BYE BYE MR. EAR W/ PAIN MAN! This being the case I can continue where I left off with out having to rock back and forth like Rainman every other word I type. Here it goes…

So after being weighed in and giving a brief “why I’m here” summary to the nurse she leaves me by myself to wait for the good Doctor. I have to admit, I do like my doctor. He’s a nice bloke and all; but the real reason I like him is because he has the most old school office around! Seriously, I don’t know how he managed to freeze his office in the late 70’s but he done done it! From the time you walk in you get hit with retro nostalgia. What’s weird is that everything is in mint condition. You half expect to walk in and see Jack and Chrissy filling out forms to finally get to the bottom of whether not using a condom on that crazy kooky night they got drunk after finding the missing rent was a mistake. They walk their clipboard up the nurse and WHAT?! Why it’s Mr. Furley walking out of the back restroom with a cup of his semen! All are shocked to see each other and Mr. Furley drops his sample and stands in a judo pose. Cue the laugh track. Yes, this is what my doctor’s office is like.

After a bit of time sitting alone wondering if I could run out to my car carrying the really cool chair in the corner without getting noticed, the doctor walks in. My doctor looks like your typical old guy doctor. He is average height, old man portly (not fat though, just age weighted), healthy head of gray hair, the basics. What is the stand out feature is… HE’S DRESSED RETRO TOO! He sports the chubby “almost” long sideburns, and wears those frames of glasses that has a little too much metal on them and are usually worn at a shooting range. They even have a slight tint to them. The best is his old school doctor’s coat. I wanted to bludgeon him and snatch it off his twitching corpse it was THAT cool. I figured getting my hearing back and loosing the intense pain in my gullet was more important though.
“Hello Damon! How ya feeling today?” As he reads the file
“WELL, I DON’T KNOW IF THEY WROTE IT DOWN THERE OR NOT BUT…”
“Ah, yes yes. I guess you wouldn’t be doing too well or else you wouldn’t be here eh?”
“…” (Insert grimace/grin here)
“Well, lemme get something I like to use to look into ears and we’ll see what’s doin”
It’s at this point it hits me. Should I tell him I had the old man give me a few drips of olive oil in my ear the night before. What if he looks in it and wonders why the hell my ear is so greasy, or what if the oil got into some laceration or touched something sensitive and fucked me all up?! Then I’d look like a fool explaining that “well sir. Olive oil is a well-known home remedy so I had my dad give me a few drips in the ear for the irritation. No, I don’t normally try and get rid of pain with cooking oils, but two people told me it’s what your uh-sposed to do!”

Yeah, I decided unless it came up he didn’t need to know. He starts off by looking into my right ear and just gives a little “hmph” then tells me that it’s fine. He then goes to my left ear and gets a look on his face like I was telling him jokes while having a dried green boogie dangle from my nostril, just getting ready to fly out. He then cups my back jaw line and tells me it’s a bit swollen. I KNEW IT I thought to myself like I was his equal when it came to medical knowledge. He then looks into my ear and tells me “Boy, your canal is highly infected and very swollen. Do you use Q-tips?”
Now I was mortified. Did I really have that much wax, and whatever else, coating up my ear that he actually had to ask if I clean my ears? What a slob I must be…
“Um…yeah actually. I use them a lot. Why…is there some wax and stuff?”
“Oh, no. It’s just that you shouldn’t really use Q-tips, they irritate the ear and a lot of doctors are now telling people not to use them. You must use them too much because you have hardly any wax in your ear and you must have irritated the ear canal. The infection is what’s causing all the discomfort. In the future, if you feel a little discomfort or a slight itch in your ear, just put a couple of drops of baby oil in (hmm, an oil that isn’t found in the kitchen?! Are you nuts?) And when in the shower just tilt your head to let the water run in then tilt your head and let it run out. That should be more than enough”

A lot of useful information right? Well, all I really heard at the time was “your ears are clean”. Don’t worry though. I found if you ask questions like your in disbelief of what he just told you, you can usually get a good recap. “I’m supposed to put WHAT in my ear? Then do what? Hmm, never knew that…”

To top off the spectacular morning I’ve been having I get a semi-check up and learn a couple of other interesting things. Not only have I put on a few lbs, I also have high blood pressure and have to learn to relax a little more and alter my diet so salts and other delicious things aren’t abundant in my meals. Great. I get a prescription for some eardrops and antibiotics. WHAT THE FUCK! Where is my vicadin? Did he not see me rocking back and forth holding my left ear like I was at some fucking roller disco?! I ask if the eardrops or pills are going to take care of the pain, and quickly too. He tells me “it should” and that’s it. Maybe St. Elsewhere wasn’t listening so good. I WAS IN PAIN DAMMIT! “Well, I mean…my ear hurts really bad?”
“Oh, well if starts to get really uncomfortable just take a couple of advil…”
Fucker.

It’s better than nothing I figure so I start my trek to my nearest pharmacy and then it’s off to work. I pull up to the WALGREENS parking lot and I’m dizzy with agony. It’s like walking in a daze as I step into the old people scented pharmacy. Now it is my observation that there are 3 types you’ll find working in most pharmacies, unless your of the upper crust - then your pharmacist is like a family friend or something and pretty normal. The 3 types are: 1) Asians 2) easily annoyed Asians and 3) frumpy white broads who seem really out of place helping sift out your druggins. Luckily for me it was easily annoyed Asian day.

I walk up to the counter and I’m trying not to act like I just got raped with a broom handle covered in broken glass and given a furious reach around by Edward Scissorhands, thus leaving me in unimaginable pain. I tell the little fellow behind the counter that I need my prescription filled. He snatches the paper off the counter, looks at it and then sets it on a shelf by a computer. He then starts his inquisition. “Is this from your doctor” “what’s your date of birth” “is this still your address” “you have the same insurance” “what’s your social security” “do cops let you finish shitting if they bust into your house to arrest you and your in the middle of making boom boom”? All the usual questions, just asked about 3 times each. I’m finally starting to get annoyed and finally look up to give him a scowl. SHAZAM! What fuck was that on his cheek! Feeling my eyes start to dry out from being popped out of socket from what I just saw I quickly look up toward the ceiling lights. After shifting my eyes back and forth in what I thought was a sly fashion I casually lower my gaze again. I carefully sneak peaks at the little piece of heaven that startled me so. On his face I had noticed the slight bit of peach fuzz stubble he was trying to turn into something stylish around his chin and side burns area. But right in the middle of his left cheek in that space in between the chin and sideburns was a round chocolate chip sized mole with black lightning coming out of it! What I thought were bolts of electricity were actually just really long coarse black hairs growing out of the mole. I’d say there were about 6-7 hairs of different coarseness and thickness and all were 5-6 inches in length! What gives? I just wanted to twirl my finger around all the hair and PULL! Maybe his head was like a party popper and after I pulled the bunch of hairs out confetti and streamers would come out of his eyes and fill the sky with fun only measured in a parade at Disneyland. Turns out I was in such an intense daydream I didn’t realized I had agreed to comeback in a half hour when my druggins would be filled. What the hell was I supposed to do for a half hour?

I end up going to the bank to make a deposit and after that I would go reserve my copy of the Sony PSP. The bank was a pretty easygoing chore and I finished that errand pretty quick. The game store was another story. I will save that tale for another day.

As I get back to the guy with the body snatcher coming out of his cheek, I get my drugs. He gives me a bottle of antibiotics and then he gives me a little bottle which it turns out are the eardrops. He tells me to give about 5 drips twice a day and to put some cotton in my ear after the drops to keep them in. I’m all about it and I quickly devour a pill and spin the cap off the eardrops wildly. I wants me some relief! I ask if he as a cotton ball. He looks at me like he just burped up a fart, “You want cotton ball?” “Yes please, I only need one for the drops. I have to go to work after this so I won’t be able to stop off”
He still looks puzzled and then comes from behind the counter and walks to a shelf. He then comes over to me with a pillow-sized bag of cotton balls?
“Oh, sorry. I don’t need all those. I have plenty at home, I just need one for now”
“We don’t have any. Sorry”
Now is it just me, but don’t they put cotton in the bottles and shit! I KNOW they had one. I just grind my teeth, smile and walk to my car.

I finally start my trek to work and don’t get there until 12pm. I had to take a half-day AND catch up on a shit load of work because I was going to be on VACATION for the next few days! VACATION! Can you believe that shit!? Not only do I have NO sleep in me, I also have an earache AND now I have to come in for a half day THE NEXT DAY because I have to catch up on work. I swear there is some old gypsy lady out there just looking into her crystal ball and cackling her head off.

DJB

write and wrong

2005-02-11T09:30:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd take some time out to address something I've noticed in my written ramblings. I tend to misspell words or leave them out entirely. I am aware of this for you people who read a blog and just twitch with the anticipation of telling me "YOU KNOW YOU DIDN'T SPELL ____ RIGHT?!" Well save it. I try my best, but to be honest i'm what the French call LE ZIE. Thank you for being better than me though...

DJB

Inosmnia and Earaches will be the deaf of me...

2005-02-11T08:53:00.000-08:00

This was originally typed yesterday but due to Jesus hating me I had to call it quits and post it today. It was turning into a huge manifesto anyway...

4/10/05

As of late I’ve had the worst insomnia. Insomnia isn’t anything new to me, we go way back to the High School days. These were times when not sleeping a good nights sleep didn’t matter because you were just going to go to school anyway? And who needs a solid 8 hrs if they are just going to go to breakfast instead of first period? Not I said the cat. Regardless, when you are in your first year of entering your 30’s and you now have the body of anyone who was in the pool in “COCOON” things are a little different. I have had about 15 hrs sleep for the whole week. Now sure a couple of bags under your eyes may make you look mysterious, but if this is the case then I make the Yeti look like he ain’t nuffin! But this morning was different. This morning was a prime example of why I’m an agnostic.

Yesterday I had a little earache while at work. It wasn’t anything major, just a little uncomfortable if you will. The was the kind of earache that was like the ones you get when you’re a little tike. You know, you wake up and instead of seeking relief you just lie there squeezing tears out of your ear while trying out different tones of the word “owww” until your parents come to dote on you. “owww” no parents, “OWww”…no parents, “OWWW” (and a dramatic sniffle for good measure), ah you hear storming down the hallway. “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!?” as they stand over you. Bullseye. Well when you have an earache at work and co-workers find out you hear some pretty bizarre home remedies. “Get a warm piece of garlic then put it in your ear” “Put a couple drops of warm olive oil in your ear” “Cry about it why don’t you!” Huh? Anyway they were no help, and if anything they just made me crave Italian food. I end up going to my dad’s house for a visit and my ear seemed a little more painful and clogged. Like when you have water in your ear. I must have looked like shit because my dad’s boyfriend was looking at me like I shit myself and was walking around like I hadn’t even realized I fell ass first in a vat of chocolate pudding. My dad and my sister show up and give me that “Oh, the junkie is visiting” look while making small talk. I explain that I hadn’t slept in 4 days and I had an earache to boot. I could have sworn when I said the words ear ache my dad had a flood of memories of me and my sisters being lazy asses and crying in our beds till they absolutely had to get out of bed to shut us up. But it was only for a millisecond. He tells me “you should put a couple of drops warm olive oil in your ear” to which I replied with only a Buckwheat double take. “Really? Do you have any olive oil?” Now pops brought up the olive oil thing and he was the second person to do so, so I figured it might be true. He warmed up a little bit of oil and dripped it in my ear with a Q-tip. I don’t know if it did anything to be honest, but I was so tired and sick of the throbbing that I BELIEVED it was working. I hang out for a bit and then go home.

After a rousing game of “Dead or Alive Volleyball” at 3am, I go to bed.

“AWW SHIT!” I wince as I wake up cupping my left ear. I look at the clock and it’s 6am. I sit up and settle into the most intense pain I’ve ever felt. My ear was throbbing like there was a rave going on inside of it and it felt like someone shoved a jellybean into the canal. My molars on the left side of my jaw were throbbing with pain also. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED! I had gone to bed bothered by my ear but I woke up with this stabbing throbbing pain in my ear and…WAIT A MINUTE!? No, this can’t be right? I put my pinkie finger into my right ear and listen. Was this really happening? I snap my fingers by my left ear, while keeping my pinkie finger in my right, and I could barely hear it. Shocked and a few “whatthefuck’s” later I realize I am practically deaf in my left ear! I could barely hear shit…or anything like shit! I’m a bit freaked out but still being in denial I proceed to the bathroom to take a shower. I turn the shower on and step into the warm water. As the water hits me I realize that shouldn’t get water into my ear, not to mention that I was super tired from only getting 3hrs sleep, and sit down in the shower. BOOM BOOM BOOM as the throbbing pain was getting worse. At one point I stuck my finger in my left ear to see if blood was coming out. The pain was too much. I end up getting out of the shower and calling work to tell them I had to see a doctor because I was deaf in my left ear and was doubled over in pain. The later the morning gets the more the pain intensifies. I know my doctor doesn’t get into the office at 6:30 so I turn on the radio and lie in my bed with the hopes of getting a couple of hours sleep before I had to go see him. BOOM BOOM BOOM! The pain just insisted on ruining me. No matter how much I tried to relax myself I couldn’t even lie still the pain was so bad. I sweat out a couple of hours and finally call my doctor. An operator answers and says the office doesn’t open until 9am and she was just an answering service. GREAT! FUCKING GREAT! I about to lose it! My pain starts to turn into rage. WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO THAT I HAVE TO WAKE UP TORTURED BY THE PAIN IN MY EAR! I curse god, I look up and curse my upstairs neighbor. This wasn’t intentional but his apartment was in the way of me looking up to the lord.

Finally after being delirious from sleep depravation and the little man with a pick axe swinging away inside my ear I decide to just show up at the doctors office at 9am. I didn’t have an appointment and if I were there surely they would have to see me? Right? It didn’t matter I was determined. I take another quick shower and get dressed. At this point just moving was enough to make my ear give me a jolt of pain. I seriously had to move around like I was fucking C-3PO and shit! Everything was so off kilter when I was driving around because I could only hear out of my right ear. You never realize how important sound is until someone puts a curse on you and you wake up deaf in your left ear. I get to my doctors office at 9am exactly and no one is there. After walking around like a crack head listening to a transistor radio I see a nurse turn on the lights and unlock the door. I knew I looked like shit but didn’t care, I can never hide that I’m cute. Just kidding. I walk up and start to explain my problem in a frenzy. She was looking at me weird and I realized that I was shouting because I could barely hear and figured no one else could too. She says she’ll try to squeeze me in between patients. I try to read a magazine but I can’t see or do anything except try to ignore the pain. I was squirming in my chair holding my ear once in a while when I look up and notice some old lady who had just walked in was looking at me like I was some crack head. I look back at her and give a lazy grin, and continues to glare at me with a look of disgust. I just smile, raise my brows, mouth the words ooookay and look down at my magazine. “DAMIEN? DAMIEN BARRON?” the nurse calls out from the doorway. I don’t even care that the broad couldn’t read D-A-M-O-N because she called me DAMIEN? I do hate it though. She puts me on a scale and, well, I’ll keep that to myself. She then takes me to a little examining room asks why I’m there and tells me the doctor will be right in..

I’m sorry folks. I can’t do this anymore. The throbbing in my ear right now is beyond words and I can’t focus on the enthralling update. I will try and finish this up tomorrow if I don’t OD on vicadin first. FUCK! This is ridiculous…

Thank god for little gameboys! They are so fun to hold in your hand and sell when bored with them...

2005-02-09T15:36:00.000-08:00

So today I had to think of ways to indulge of my guilty pleasure of video game playing. The new PSP is only weeks away from popping it's head out of the Sony corps. cooter and I gots to get me mine! I gave a crack head glance around my apt. to see what cool shit I had to sell to apply no out of pocket cash to my PSP. I considered my dogs for a bit, but then guilt prevailed so I just spanked them out of frustration. Then the obvious hit me like a car Stevie Wonder was driving..."MY CURRENT GAME SYSTEMS!" Duh! I fell prey to two trends that were the cats meow in the beginning, but were now just bastard children in the way of my prize THE PSP. What systems you ask? (didn't know I could hear you huh? Yeah,well just watch yourself SUCKA!) One is the Nokia N-GAGE. A fine and dandy system in the day, but now a phone I'll never use and keep around because I paid big bucks for it at the time. Kind of like whores, y'know? The other was a GAMEBOY ADVANCE sp. Now this one was only a month old and I think the only reason I really bought it was because my niece wouldn't let me play hers. Yeah, she's only 7 BUT THAT AIN'T THE POINT!

Now the other task. Where to sell it? I didn't feel like asking friends or random co-workers because they always give you that look like your hitting hard times or you need a "fix" and have no cash. Well I knew what I had to do. Go to the sellers paradise. I knew that my old employer has a NWR (not work related) distribution e-mail that you could sell anything from old magazines to canned baby farts. The people there are so diverse and they treat a sellers deal like a fat kid treats found skittles in the couch cushions. I asked a lovely little friend of mine to send my e-mail ad to the fine folks in the office and sat by rubbing my hands in anticipation of the first takers. Here is a copy of my ad:

Ok Kids, here is a deal so sweet your dentist will slap you for talking about it!

FOR SALE!

GAMEBOY SP Onyx/black model - $50!!! (see attached photo)

This is a brand new system. I have only had it for barely over a month and much like ugly kids, it hardly gets played with. All the packing and booklets are intact and trust me, the system is beyond MINT condition. Like I said, I bought right after Christmas and only played it a few times. I plan on buying a different system so I ditching this one.

There are no games included, just the system...unless your willing to call my 7 year old niece to try and get her to sell them to you. Good luck.

The GAMEBOY SP retails for $80, but I'm letting it go for $50.

If your interested I can be contacted at kenobimail@yahoo.com. There is no screening process so the offer is open to everyone.

Good luck!

DJB

Now I expected it to be a while before the fish started to nibble but it took less than 5 MINS!!! Fo shizzle! These people don't mess around! You'd have thought it was a Michael Jackson sex tape or something! I was more than pleased that it was snatched up so quick...until the straggler e-mails started to pour in. OR the e-mails from people who knew who I was and decided to send me e-mails like we went way back. UH-Hello! If you know who I is but I haven't seen or talked to you in 2 years...why would you hit me up? This wasn't as annoying as the folks who sent messages like "does it have any games?" "what games are included?" "How much do you want?" Are you kidding me?! Is there not a plethora of information in the fuggin original e-mail!

Well, after snapping at the last one the e-mails have trailed off like punch drinkers in Jonestown. Everything worked out fine, I am well my way to PSP town and i shouldn't have to spend too much of my own Cizz-ash! Hopefully they don't start selling replica's of Paul McCartney's wifes fake leg or it's back to the old job crew for some ducets!

DJB