Charlie Don't Surf

Wow. Sheen's-Korner is so powerful, so awe-inspiring... it's not logical to even begin a discussion.  I'm half staring-at-the-light in Close Encounters and half staring-into-the-Ark in Raiders of the Lost Ark.  It's a brave new world, or maybe an eternity damned.

Sippin' On Some Syrup, verse 1 (Pimp C)

According to Google Analytics (whoever that is!), my "Swervin'" song translation is the most popular blog post on Lee's Steez. Literacy is alive!

If Three 6 Mafia is indeed the Chaucer of the Dirty South, then "Sippin' On Some Syrup" is its Canterbury Tales. The task of translating such a masterpiece is both arduous and exhilarating. As ol' G.C. used to say:
In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay
Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage
To Caunterbury with ful devout corage
Now po' it up, nigga...


Three 6 Mafia f/U.G.K. - "Sippin' On Some Syrup"

Chorus:Sippin' on some sizz-urp, sip, sippin' on some, sip...
Sippin' on some sizz-urp, sip, sippin' on some, sip... (repeat 8x)
Drinking a mixture of Tussionex, soda, and/or liquor...
Drinking a mixture of Tussionex, soda, and/or liquor... (repeat 8x)

Pimp C:
I'm trill workin' the wheel, a pimp not a simp
Keep the dope fiends higher than the Goodyear Blimp.
I'm a genuinely masculine human being and completely in control of all relationships I hold with the opposite sex, especially while operating a motor vehicle. The narcotics  sold by my syndicate of drug dealers are of such high potency that they often cause sensations of disassociation and vertigo, similar to those experienced by passengers of dirigibles, zeppelins, etc.

We eat so many shrimp, I got iodine poisoning
Fuckin' niggas make me sick with all that pinchin' and bargaining.
Our extravagant lifestyle affords us excessive arrays of appetizers, including raw shrimp and other shellfish-- occasionally our shrimp consumption leads to unnaturally high (but hardly fatal!) levels of iodine in our bloodstream. We have neither the time nor patience to deal with customers that steal from or attempt to haggle with the merchants of our drug syndicate.

You say that you a boss, I ain't believing that shit
You got the funny Geneva watch, with the Ferrari kit.
You claim to hold a position of prominence in your organization, but I haven't seen any evidence to support this. In fact, you've been spotted on numerous occasions wearing gaudy, tasteless Italian watches.

Take that monkey shit off, you embarassing us
I got tha red promethazine, tha orange and yella tuss.
Please remove the aforementioned accessories... you're misrepresenting members of your own crew and your profession as a whole! I'm currently in possession of Codiclear, Tussionex, and other hydrocodone compounds.

Hydroco-done on tha hands-free phone
Tha 84's roam on them blades, 20-inch chrome.
I'm operating a "hands-free" cellular phone, in full compliance with the Tennessee criminal code pertaining to motor vehicles. However, ingestion of the opioid hydrocodone has rendered me unable to operate my car legally. Regardless of my inebriation, my car is outfitted with 20-inch chrome Cadillac wire rims.

If you got 16, you can get a bizzerd
I'm chokin' on that doja sweet and sippin' on that sizzurp.
One can purchase a kilogram of pure, uncut cocaine for $16,000. I'm smoking marijuana and drinking a mixture of Tussionex, soda, and/or liquor.

Slice of Life (part two)

[Slice of Life (part two) is the second part of Slice of Life (part one)]

Esai prepared the first injection, and I began to wonder why I didn't choose the "no-scalpel, no-injection" method over the suddenly barbaric-sounding "no-scalpel" method. The "no-shirt, no-shoes, no-service" method seemed appealing as well, but it was too late to stop now. I mean, my balls were already shaved!

The first injection felt like someone stapling my balls to either a wall or a 7-sheet stack of paper. The only point of reference I had (since I've never accidentally stapled my balls to anything) was Wes Craven's "I want to hear you scream!" scene, although getting dumped out of the back of a truck in Port-au-Prince wearing only a pair of blood-stained briefs seemed a bit far-fetched at this point.

True to Dr. S's word, the local anesthesia kicked in right away (thank Jesus!) and the second shot felt a lot like the first one (for some reason, he had to do everything twice!). In hindsight, it would be more accurate to describe the pain as someone stapling your balls to either a wall or a 7-sheet stack of paper, and then magically pulling a "just kidding!" moment out of their hat five seconds later. Not so bad at all.

Doc asked me how I was doing, and I tried to remember some of the witty stuff I'd prepared in the waiting room... something like, "Hey, the Valium really helped that gash!" or something unintelligible in a pseudo-castrata voice. I opted to croak, "Okay."

The rest was standard fare. Fix the vas deferens, shift the clamp, blah blah blah... Once the drugs kicked in, the whole experience was about the same as a bad freshman-year hook-up: lots of mildly painful tugging, some awkward silences, and blood everywhere a nasty headache. Dr. S did slip in a funny steakhouse reference while he "cooked" the tip of each vas, but that was it for the jokes. I staggered over to my clothes, grabbed a complementary apple juice, and wandered out into the hallway.

My better half met me in the waiting area, where some sort of terrorism plot was being reported on CNN. We then debriefed with the good doctor as a couple, which was actually quite helpful. Doc told my wife I had a "beautiful scrotum" and assured her that my semen would "look, smell. and taste the same" as it did before the procedure. I only found these comments mildly disturbing for some reason.

On our way out, we were given a goodie bag containing two plastic lab cups to be used for sperm evaluations after "six weeks or 15 ejaculations, whichever comes first." I couldn't handle this kind of math at the time, so I focused my attention on keeping my apple juice cup separate from the cumshot cups.

I brought my bill to the cashier, who promptly charged me double the amount I was promised by the doctor. I was at a somewhat compromised position to haggle, seeing as the procedure was already completed. Luckily, all parties honored our original agreement and the fee remained severed in half. At least for 15 ejaculations or the end of my AmEx billing cycle... whichever comes first.

Slice of Life (part one)

Hey readers!!! Reports of my e-death are mostly exaggerated. Truth is, I've been spending just about every waking (and sleeping!) moment working on a collaborative effort to solve the Collatz Conjecture with a team of Turkish mathematicians. Our parity sequence approach line is looking bleaker and bleaker, and Aztük-Bey (our team leader) is about to throw in the proverbial towel. I haven't slept in fucking months.

I emerged from my math-cave Thursday morning, and saw the letters "VSC" on the wall calendar for Friday the 29th. First thing came to mind was another reunion bash for the old college intramural soccer squad, but then it hit me: THE VASECTOMY!!! I set this thing up over the summer... I guess time flies when you're mapping residue classes with a bunch of crazy Turks.

I dropped Jr. off at pre-school this morning and more or less dicked around on the Upper West for a few hours (Verizon store, Modell's, Rite-Aid, etc.) until it was time to head East. I figured I'd look over my literature on vasectomies while the M72 seeped crosstown, but it was tough to keep a low profile when every page of the info-packets I had featured giant diagrams of penises.

At least I knew I was going to see the right guy. Dr. Shel Silverstone is a world-renowned walnut whipper with an office right here in Manhattan, and a helluva good guy too. During our initial consultation, he told me I had a "perfect scrotum" and called the surgery-to-be a piece of cake. And when I found out my insurance wasn't gonna cover a red cent of the procedure, Dr. Silverstone sent me this email-- "I'll cut it in half..." Funny guy.

Before I knew it I was donning a hospital gown and wondering what the hell I was doing. The decision to sterilize wasn't a difficult one, considering the hundreds of sexual partners immense challenges we're facing raising just two kids; it's hard to imagine doing any more than we already are. As I've said many times, two's my limit on schnitzengruben.

I was led into the operating room by Dr. S's assistant, who was a dead ringer for Esai Morales. As Esai shaved my balls, he asked if the music piped into the room was OK. Something from the closing credits of a Shirley MacLaine romantic comedy wasn't really doing it for me, so I asked him what else they had. He said, "Classical and Sinatra," which sounded even worse, so I settled for Tesh-Grusinesque garbage. I was about 30 minutes into a Valium, and actually considered digging out my iPod and hitching up E'G's Angels in the Architecture for all to enjoy, but had a horrifying vision of Moraz/Bruford's "Split Seconds" startling Silverstone into lopping off my jimbo.

Esai prepared the first injection, and...

TO BE CONTINUED

The Ypsilanti Era

It's been an exciting June! Galarraga, Griffey, Strasburg, R.A. Dickey... I can go on and on. After last week, it might be time to add Mazzola to the list.

I already detailed my ascencion into the 600 club in February. We all knew I'd pass that druggie freak Sammy Sosa, which I did on my Mom's birthday in April with a well-placed jab to my right thigh. When Ken Griffey Jr. retired earlier this month, I thought I was a lock for the coveted #5 slot. I wish I could say A-Rod was right on my tail, but I'm a lot more concerned with his groin at the moment.
Anyway, looks like I'm joining Junior in retirement. I performed what appears to be my last A****x injection two weeks ago, freezing my career stats at 622. Not that my legs could take much more abuse-- I'm walking around on a couple of voodoo dolls at this point.

You know what they say... when one recombinant humanized glycoprotein door closes, another recombinant humanized monoclonal antibody door opens. I began the Ypsilanti treatment eleven days ago, and boy are my leukocytes tired! I was infused with a steroid/Ypsilanti cocktail at around 6pm, and was out the door by 8. Save some minor itchiness and the metallic taste of pocket change in my mouth, I felt OK.

The first wave of side effects kicked in about two hours after I got home: moderate-to-intense itching on my legs, nausea, dizziness, headache, and some chills. In fact, the only list items I seemed to be missing were depression and vaginitis. I figured these two would come together or not at all.

Not much else to tell so far... I'm still alive and regenerating cell tissue in my thighs by the minute. I might even be able to wear a swimsuit this July! Joy, joy!!!

Yankees 7, Twins 1

Friday was one helluvan afternoon, to say the least. I snuck out of work early (2:45) and bolted for the bus. Ain't no bus, so I got on the F instead. I was already exhausted.

I was headed to the upper East for a series of exams, scans, and drugs treatments. First stop was the ___________ Imaging Center. I was thinking F to the V and get off at 53rd/Lex-- maybe a farewell ride on the soon-extinct V line (and good fucking riddance!). Passed a parked V at 2nd Ave that wasn't going anywhere soon, so I switched to the D at W 4th in hopes of passing another V before 34th. Didn't happen, so I stuck with the D until 7 Av, where I pulled a slick switch to the Queens-bound E for 2 stops to the aforementioned 53rd/Lex stop. Piece of cake, really.

53rd/Lex is one deep station, so I was all about the escalator. Painted-blue plywood surrounded the escalator entrance, which I took to mean "the escalator is out of order." I staggered over to the stairs and began what Anatoli Boukreev might have called The Climb. Seriously, this is a really long flight of stairs.

Unfortunately, the stairs give a nice view of the fully operational "up escalator" about ten feet to the right. I considered leaping across the 4-foot gap (perhaps inspired by the alleged heroics of Boukreev himself), but that seemed like a bad idea. About halfway up the flight (appr. 5000 steps) I came face to face with an urchin of an old woman heading down the stairs. BTW, I was on the right side of the stairs while she was on the left.

The bitch wouldn't move! We stood there for at least 15 seconds before I said, "Come on, lady, move." She said, "Get out of my way!" I said, "Just move to the right, OK!" She said, "GET OUT OF MY WAY!" I said, "Common courtesy dictates that..." She said, "GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!"

By now, people were gawking through the gap between the escalator and the stairs, thinking (1) "what the hell is that idiot doing climbing the stairs?!" and (2) "that lady's a nutjob!" I was inspired by neither thought, and actually moved to my left, breaking every moral code in my body. Then I had to walk up the remaining fucking 5000 steps.

By now, my condition that necessitated the afternoon's exams, scans, and drugs treatments was much worse. On the bright side, I was actually on time! I stumbled into the MRI center looking like someone that needed one hell of an MRI.

I should mention that the ___________ Imaging Center is an absolutely top-notch operation, which is good considering the gravity of their work. An attractive receptionist asked me to fill out lots of paperwork, including a sheet with outlines of the front and back of a human body (they looked exactly the same) which I was supposed to mark according to my pain/symptoms. I circled both diagrams completely and submitted my clipboard.

An attractive nurse escorted me into the elevator and down two floors into the bowels of the center. I was given a key to a locker and told to store my belongings and change into a hospital gown. I asked the nurse if the facility had a restroom I could use before my MRI, which was probably the stupidest question of all time. Can you imagine an underground MRI center without a bathroom??!!

I was then led into a small room by yet another attractive nurse, who informed me that she was "setting up my port for the introduction of contrast agents." She was sticking a needle and catheter in my arm (which she did expertly and efficiently). She then led me down the hall and into the MRI room ("the tube").

A large man introduced himself and said he'd be my imaging technician for the afternoon, ending my streak at three. He was a dead ringer for Anton LaVey, which I took as a good sign. Anton asked me some stock questions, sizing me up for the ordeal ahead. I smirked and said something about this being my fourth or fifth MRI (this is true; I have had four or five MRIs in my lifetime). He smirked right back (and this guy knew how to smirk!) and said, "Well, today's session is a bit more... rigorous than you've experienced before." I replied, "How so? How long are we talking here?" Anton mumbled something about "55 minutes or so." Oh boy.

He gave me two cheap foam earplugs, which I immediately dropped on the floor. He helped me out with another pair, and strapped me in. Being strapped into an MRI with an IV tube in your arm is a little weird; I resisted the handful of death row jokes that floated through my transom. Once I was completely immoblized, Anton explained that I'd be getting MRI scans of my brain, and cervical spine, as well as an MRA of my neck, each with and without contrast. I asked him something about a "break" and he said something about "one shot."

Getting a closed bore MRI is exactly like listening to Autechre at maximum headphone volume on cough syrup, which I've done at least four or five times. The technician introduces each portion of the scan like a deadpan DJ, stating, "OK, this one's 3 and a half minutes" or "this one's about 2 minutes." The technician always underestimates the length of each song portion. That's the only way to make it through something like this (especially for almost an hour and a half!!!)-- to treat the experience like a little personal concert, brought to you by Warp Records. I totally dug the bass-heavy stuff, but couldn't stand the high-end BRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKK BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKK shit. I found out later that my right earplug fell out sometime during the scan, so my noise notch is now offically a noise ravine.

I'll also say that it was goddamn freezing in there!! I figured either (1) they have to keep the facility well ventilated for patients' safety and proper maintenance of the machinery, or (2) Anton was trying to neutralize my terrible farts.

I do have some suggestions that would improve the MRI experience for patients:
1) accompany each scan-series with a mini light show-- how hard would that be?
2) introduce each portion with a title, not just a length: "This one's something we like to call 'Gepetto's Waltz'" or "Here's 'Crunch Brigade'". That would really move things along.
3) they put a little tilted mirror above your head so you can kinda see out into the main room, like you're in jail or at a golf tournament. Maybe they could act out some interesting scenarios or at least walk around or something?! I thought I might see Anton eating a Subway sandwich or playing Klondike but I never saw anything move at all out there.

I was extracted from the tube at about 6:15pm, feeling and looking like a human Pop-Tart. I half-expected to be congratulated by the crew for remaining so perfectly still during the 90 minutes I spent in there, but only got a "Nice job, man" from Anton. I was so proud of my corpse-like performance that I actually began to fantasize about second careers that could avail themselves to someone with my special talent, perhaps in the fields of international espionage, escape artistry, being buried alive, etc.

My afternoon was only half over, as I still had to check in with my doctor about the results of my scans (they burned me a CD on my way out, furthering the music parallels I'd been working on all afternoon). I was really late for my appointment, but doc still took the time to study my brain, spine, blood, and whatever else they got on the damn CD. He gave me a "coulda been a lot worse" report, and then tossed around some pluses and minuses of the new treatment I've been considering. The therapy (let's call it "Ypsilanti") has shown remarkable results for most patients, but seems to have caused more than a few fatalities along the way. They've tightened up the ship in the last year or so, and the drug's been downgraded from "risky" to "might be sort of risky." I can live with that.

So it's almost 8:00pm on a Friday night and he asks me if I want to hook up for a steroid IV. I say, "Sure, but right now?" He says, "Why not? I'm here for a few more hours anyway." Within five minutes I'm juiced up in a chair with the Yankee game YES broadcast blasting from the waiting room television. I was feeling better already.

The rest of the night's a bit blurry. I know the kids were both asleep by the time I got home, and I jabbered at my wife for about 45 minutes about Facebook, Twitter, and the Boston Celtics. I passed out at a respectable hour.

NEXT MORNING: Oh shit, I got a Yankee game today! I had a lousy morning trying to get Jr. to do just about anything besides watch TV, shat my brains out for a few hours, and made it up to the game by the third inning or so. Fun time-- not much to report at all. Apparently Michael Kay referred to Manny Ramirez as "Man-Ram" during their broadcast discussion of grand slams, which I gladly would have stayed home just to hear.

The Alaska Diaries, week 10

Pukers Die!!! The Alaska Diaries [names have been changed to protect the guilty and innocent]

WEEK TEN: The Long Way Home

[this is an absolutely true account of one of the great driving feats of all time. almost 5000 miles in six days, including no driving after dark the first three days and a 44-hour straight shot from edmonton to poughkeepsie.]

Monday (day 64)
Not much to say to everyone-- weird. Driving out of the cannery was fucking scary. Van sounds OK though.
Great driving today! At least 600 miles, and can't drive over 60! Made it to the border (Beaver Creek?), parked somewhere, drank some beer, and slept.
[the van's dashboard gauges were incorrect for the entire trip post-engine replacement... we showed about 20% faster than we were actually going, and put on 20% more miles than we actually traveled.]

Tuesday (day 65)
Woke up at sunrise and got the fuck on the road. Great driving again... got past Whitehorse about halfway through the day and stopped a little past Watson Lake (!!!). We waited until dark, drove back towards town, and stole two "ALASKA HIGHWAY" street signs. Totally _______'s idea.
[this was hilarious... "mission impossible"-style.]

Wednesday (day 66)
First order of business was to visit Ralph Grunow at his auto shop. Told him all the stuff he fucked up with the van, including the drive shaft that popped off a few hours after we left. He gave us $40 and sent us on our way. I grabbed _______'s Marquee Moon tape out of their radio in the garage.
I talked to some guy at a gas station about the lake in town where ______ and I tried to wash up on the trip in-- he says, "Oh, you mean Chemical Lake?"
We drive all the way to Dawson Creek-- "mile zero." Three 600-mile days in a row.
[i'm still not sure what to think about the Grunow repairs. the guy did let us sleep in his junkyard for a week! i mean, how could he not rip us off... we were a pretty pathetic sight, I'm sure.]

Thursday (day 67)
We actually eat breakfast in Dawson Creek (sit down and pay for it). We get pulled over right after we leave, but no ticket.

We decide to head straight for Edmonton and then take a break. _____ says the largest mall in the world is in Edmonton, so we go there. We smoke a huge Alaska bud in the parking lot out of a beer can-- smells amazing. Maybe the most stoned I've ever been.
The "mall" is ridiculous: we ride a roller coaster, a "Free Fall" ride, water slides, a wave pool, innertube rides, an aquarium, a submarine ride, check out ice skating, an unbelievable arcade... I even buy a cribbage board. We get high out in the van again, too. CRAZY!!!

We drive out of Edmonton after dark to somewhere called Millet. Totally wasted. Nowhere to park and sleep at all, so we park in what looks like a regular parking lot. Turns out it's a car dealership, and we have to move. We almost get stuck in the mud in another spot, and then we get busted by the cops. We end up driving more and finally find an actual rest area.

Friday (day 68)
We wake up early and realize we have to get home as soon as possible. We drive straight from just outside Edmonton to Poughkeepsie, NY.
THE END.
[i didn't write a whole lot from edmonton to ny... we traded 8-hour shifts back and forth (one sleeping, one driving) the entire way back. i remember drinking TONS of pepsi and mountain dew, and putting a quart of oil in almost every time we stopped. had an amazing listen to eric b & rakim on the radio driving through chicago at night. the only time _____ and i were awake at the same time was near the end of the trip... i remember ranting and raving from the passenger seat that soul II soul were changing the face of music forever, and that we would be seeing rap and r & b coming together for the next twenty years. i was sort of right.
i dropped _____ off in poughkeepsie, and headed straight to vassar college to take a shower in main building. i can't believe no one stopped me-- i looked completely insane.
on my way back to long island, i was pulled over on the hutchinson river pkwy (had to pull over onto the grass) at around 7:00 pm. i had no drivers license or id of any kind, a buck knife hanging on the rear view mirror, beer cans all over the back of the van, weed, and a street sign. i was pulled over because my license plate light was out, which i refused to believe at the time. i wasn't sure if i was being arrested, or just written up for about $1000 worth of tickets, when the cop got called on some kind of emergency. he looked me in the eye and said, "it's your lucky day," and drove off.]

Bad Girls' Club, Naked Lunch, and The Wire

What do The Wire (season 2), Bad Girls' Club, and the 1991 film Naked Lunch all have in common?

A) Each features brilliant portrayals of men and women caught in fundamental human struggles central to most classic literature (survival vs. morality, objective/subjective perception, thongs vs. panties, etc.).
B) Each contains compelling performances depicting gay/lesbian/bi characters in lead and supporting roles.
C) Each is best appreciated stoned, or in some other diminished capacity.
D) All of the above

The correct answer is (D), but I'll be focusing on choice (C) here. One of the latest buzzphrases in the field of education is "the curse of knowledge," which I'm happy to report very few of today's youth seem to be accursed with. Actually, the idea is more about teachers: it's hard for an expert to remember what it's like to not understand something.

Fortunately, television/cinema is about having a good time, not actually learning something. For this reason, i'll go with the good old "ignorance is bliss" approach. Most of the stuff we watch these days favors the passive viewer, or at least the one that doesn't really know (or care) what the hell's going on. But let's not equate apathy with confusion here-- we can certainly enjoy something with passion and still not "understand it" at all.

No better example than Cronenberg's adaptation of the novel Naked Lunch. When the film was released, the hardcore Burroughs fans formed two distinct camps: those that trashed and disavowed the film, and those that got trashed and enjoyed the film immensely. As a proud member of the latter camp, I can honestly say I was more fucked up for the ??? Multiplex (somewhere out east on the L.I.E.) showing of Naked Lunch than I've ever been in a movie theater. It was also what I'd have to call a religious experience (especially the harrowing drive home!), no exaggeration. That film was beyond any notions of sense or meaning I'm familiar with; it simply was.

I saw the film about a half-dozen more times, in various states of varying intoxication. Once I was able to approximate that amazing debut performance, and apparently celebrated by watching most of the video completely naked in a 100+ degree apartment in Providence. Naked Lunch was untouchable in its genius until I watched it completely straight. I mean, it's still good, I guess, but golly if that film wasn't a hell of a lot better when shit didn't really make so much sense.

Ditto for the sophomore season of HBO's darling The Wire. I watched most of season 2 high as the top row at Camden Yards, usually "on demand" Friday nights. I kinda did this for the first season too, but nowhere near as consistently as this time. I LOVED season one, and if you asked me then, I LOVED season two as well. It didn't matter that much to me that Ziggy was fucking annoying as hell, or that they probably could've done the whole loading docks story in about three hours, or that nobody really cared that much about most of the new characters... I was enjoying the heck out of myself. I didn't really see what a bunch of dead white girls in the back of a truck had to do with anything I'd seen in the previous season, but I was too busy zoning out on other shit to mind much. Second and third viewings of said season weren't as forgiving, as the critical (focused?) eye revealed a bit too much. What a pity.

Our third example is a bit different. Now I've watched more than a few BGCs a sheet or two to the wind, but I've generally been better described as "diminished capacity." Just plain fucking tired, to be exact. Throw in the fact that I usually watched the show with the sound off, and we're talking about one mixed-up and diminished motherfucker! As far as I was concerned, the Bad Girls' Club had absolutely no plot or concept to it at all! How could anyone not enjoy this show!!!

Turns out the show really doesn't have anything to it. Jury's still out on whether I can actually watch the show without a fatigue-adjusted I.Q. in double digits, but last season's finale (which I stupidly watched completely awake and aware) makes me think I was better off before.

You can't go home again. Actually, you can. Just make sure your doctor doesn't write "no refills" on your script.

Bad Puzzle Night

Last night was one of my worst Friday puzzles in recent memory. It went like this:
1) I jinxed myself by sending a totally unnecessary text to my friend at around 10pm, in which I called him a "dumbass" for asking me who introduced the symbol "e" for natural logs. All was downhill from there.
2) I was more than a little stoned, but nowhere near enough to warrant writing HOTTOMATO for "something passed without hesitation." I woke up this morning and fixed it right away, as if I were pulling on my drawers after a questionable hookup.
3) I was nearly passed out at 11pm when my hand filled in the unspeakable solution to 20 down: REDSOXNATION. I tossed the clipboard off the side of the bed (nearly hitting my 5 week-old little girl in the noggin) and went to sleep, utterly disgusted.

The 600 Club

Tonight I became a member of an elite group: The 600 Club (or "DC+").

I'm obviously not talking about home runs, but I'm feeling kinda kindred to some special folks nonetheless...

762  Barry Bonds*
755  Hank Aaron
714  Babe Ruth
660  Willie Mays
630  Ken Griffey Jr.
609  Sammy Sosa**
600  Lee Mazzola**

(* alleged use of steroids, ** confirmed use of steroids)

I'll be checking in on my head-to-head race with A-Rod this season as well.

Anyway, I've decided to celebrate my milestone achievement by providing a list of my own highlights-- wait a sec, what exactly are we talking about here?!! Tonight I self-adminstered my 600th weekly injection of A****x in treatment of my very own chronic illness. The entries are chronological, and contain supplementary drug info keyed below:

α = sleeping pill, β = narcotic pain reliever, γ = anticonvulsant, δ = steroid

Injection #3 - Days Inn, Youngstown OH 10:30pm
α = ●●
Only my second full-dose injection and the first travel night of a national tour with B** *****. Had intense double vision while watching Law & Order; I understood that there weren't really two Carey Lowells on the screen, but I somehow convinced myself that they didn't know that on the show, and worked the "twin" characters into the storyline. Woke up with intense flu-like symptoms and horrible headache.

Injection #43 - President St, Brooklyn NY 8:15pm
α = ●●●●
This could have been any weekend in fair-weathered 1999 (actually, that summer was hotter than hell!)... I fell into a wonderful and mysterious pattern of taking hallucinogenic dosages of pills and going to movies, usually by myself. What a time for trippy films: eXistenZ, Julien Donkey-Boy (late year), The Blair Witch Project, Fight Club, The Matrix, Bringing Out the Dead, Go, Election, Eyes Wide Shut, Limbo, Deep Blue Sea, Three Kings, American Beauty,  . Anyway, I picked this particular date because I'm pretty sure it was the night I went to see Run, Lola, Run at Angelika, and then stumbled out after about 15 minutes to sneak into South Park: Bigger Longer & Uncut. I know I saw Deep Blue Sea as part of some insane self-produced double feature somewhere, but I haven't the foggiest what the other movie was (maybe Lake Placid???). The old Worldwide Theater was another of my favorite haunts around this time ($3 admission and easiest place to sneak around ever).

Injection #47 - Summer Rental Cottage, 1000 Islands NY 9:15pm
α = ●●●●
I injected near the beginning of our nightly Trivial Pursuit match, featuring me, my parents, my grandmother, uncle and three cousins. My behavior became erratic around the fourth pie, when I accidentally shouted out the answer "Cheops!" during an opposing team's history question. Badly slurring, I spent the last 30 minutes of the match alternating between laying my forehead down on the table and maniacally cackling every time my grandmother gave a final answer. The next morning my cousin says, "Man, you were pretty fucked up last night."

Injection #50 - President St, Brooklyn NY 8:00pm
α = ●●
Milled around the old Tower Records w.4th area downtown. I was providing guest percussion with Mascott at The Fez Under Time Cafe later that evening, so I figured I'd stay in the area until "show time." Drugs seemed to be kicking in when I finally got on stage, or perhaps it was the three NA St. Pauli Girls I nursed. My assignment was alternating whole notes on a tamborine, but I treated my part like royalty. The sound at Fez was always so beautiful on stage for quiet bands, and I really got into the decay of the tamborine picking up ambient reverb from the vocal mic's (which I was not granted permission to use at this show). Likely that I sat there like a simpleton with a silly grin, but who the fuck cares?! Someone told me after the show that it was the greatest tamborine performance they'd ever seen live, and I'm still not sure if they were kidding or not.

Injection #70 - President St, Brooklyn NY 8:00pm
γ = ●●●
A bit stressed out, so I decided to just stay in for a change. Either I hit an artery or missed completely because my leg swelled up like a grapefruit, and got all purple and shit. First (and definitely not the last!) time this happened, so I decided to call the hotline number I had in my notebook. Nobody answered, so I left a message and kinda forgot about it.
I probably forgot about it because I smoked a big old joint to "take the edge off." The swelling started going down anyway, so things got better pretty quickly. My pager started dancing at around 10:30, with an official-looking callback number (I'm not sure exactly what that means). Anyway, I called the number, stoned out of my swollen gourd. It was the injection hotline!!! Duh!!! I told 'em "Everything's cool, now. Really. Everything's totally cool..." but I still had to run a gauntlet of difficult questions like "How old are you presently?" and "Describe the exact shape of the swollen area." I was absolutely sure there was a team of paramedics outside the front door ready to carry me off in a giant ice pack. I never heard from the hotline people again, but continued to smoke pot semi-regularly after injections for several years.

Injection #119 - Home, New York NY 4:00am
β = ●●●
You'd think I'd have this injection thing down pat after 2+ years, no? Rule #1: always wash your hands before spiking (no problem). Rule #2: NO ALCOHOL! Rule #3: (something about raw shellfish, not entirely clear on this one). But the no booze thing's never been an issue for me at all.
So I went out and got completely shitfaced on a Friday night after a hard week's work, which I absolut(e)ly had the right to do. I wasn't injecting until Saturday anyway, so pour it up! I got home around 3:30, barely coherent, and decided that I'd just "sneak in" a shot before I passed out. I mean, I was obviously gonna sleep in, so I'd just zzzz my way right through the nasty side effects, right? I pounded the 1.5" needle into my leg, slugged a few pills and hit the sack.
I woke up three hours later in excruciating pain, sweaty and freezing. I puked like a frat pledge for about 5 straight hours, muttering self-deprecating phrases over and over like fucking Jake LaMotta. I was severely hung over for at least 40 hours, but still made it to work Monday morning. Life's a bitch. 

Injection #299 - Yankee Stadium, Bronx NY 12:00pm (injected at home)
α = ●, β = ●●●, δ = ●
For a couple of years I bought what I believe was called the "mid-week pack" or something like that from the Yankees. You got six or eight games, all at weird times during the week against weird teams, for only $5 each. I usually called it the "Slacker Pack." I decided to just buy a single seat for each game, and go whenever I could.
Perfect kind of game to shoot up for. I chose a Thursday 1:00 game against the Colorado Rockies, for which I actually had a decent seat. Who cares if Jose Contreras was pitching? I was heading up to the Cathedral with a sophisticated high.
I think I took the bus to the game, which is pretty weird in itself. I also spent quite a bit of time on the Thursday Times crossword, which might explain my confusion when I noticed Contreras was still pitching in the 7th inning, even though he seemed to be giving up home runs every time I lifted my head up. The Yanks crushed the Rockies 10-4, winning their 4th in a row. I staggered out of the Stadium at around 4:30 with a huge bucket of popcorn and a nasty case of double vision. I wisely took the D train home to the safety of my own living room.
Interesting to note that only two players on the Yankee scorecard that day still play for the team: Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez (Posada was rested for John Flaherty, who bashed a grand slam in the 6th).

Injection #319 - Home, Manhattan NY 8:15pm
α = ●●, β = ●●●, δ = ●●
I was just finishing up a particularly rough cycle of I.V. Steroids over these two weeks, and this night was my last oral taper. It also happened to be game 7 of the 2004 ALCS between the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox.
As I said, I was dealing with some major health issues at this point. I had a catheter/port put in my left arm so I could perform the steroid infusion in the privacy of my own home. I actually went to game 2 of the ALCS (the "Who's Your Daddy?!!" game) with the catheter sticking out of my arm, wrapped in a sock and under two jacket layers. I was white as a sheet.
Nowhere near as sickly looking as I'd be a week later, as the Yankees proceeded to piss away a 3-0 lead to the dreaded "1918" Sox. The game 7 loss was such a foregone conclusion that my only response was to medicate and wait. I complemented my injection with what I used to call the Full Count: 3 painkillers and 2 sleeping pills. My buddy and I tried this just for kicks at another Yankee game one time and nearly got lost in another dimension, or at least another section of the tier reserve.
So I watched the game at home lying in a puddle on my green couch, with my wife sitting to my right across the room. I remember her taking advantage of my extremely vulnerable state by making some suggestions for new habits I might begin practicing over the next few months, like watching less TV, talking about things other than sports, not taking so many pills, eating better, etc. I also remember slurring back to her, "But what about watching the Knicks..." to which she never responded. It was the end of a devastating week, and the beginning of an entirely new existence for baseball fans.

a bad day gets worse

Celebrity Rehab - funniest line of the month so far:

"Oh my God..." - Tom Sizemore after encountering Heidi Fleiss in rehab

possible runner-up:

"There he goes..." - Dennis Rodman watching Tom Sizemore walk out of rehab

The Alaska Diaries, week 9

Pukers Die!!! The Alaska Diaries [names have been changed to protect the guilty and innocent]

WEEK NINE: Workin' for a livin'

Monday (day 57)
_____ & I drove up to Kenai to get van fixed at Dodge "hospital" (dealer/licensed service station). The place is amazing! Car sounds a lot better.

We work in the afternoon. Play our Nightwatch gig afterwards.

notables:
Fire
Stone Free
Femme Fatale
Wipeout

Swimming naked in river again. Stole lots of stuff from club.
Changed sign out front to "SHITCORNS" and "BAKOMO". _______ pukes. Crazy night-- we stole a bunch of shotglasses and threw them around the van on the way back from the club.

Tuesday (day 58)
We start working at 3pm (still hungover) and finish our shift at 8am the next morning. Long time.

The Japanese cannery guys were doing calisthenics and playing dodgeball in the morning out in the parking lot. One guy had a stopwatch. "Fuckin' A"...

Wednesday (day 59)
Thursday (day 60)
Friday (day 61)
Saturday (day 62)
Sunday (day 63)
Worked double shifts every day except one single shift day. Got too stoned one of the days and drove the fork lift into the back of the freezer truck, forks up. Also worked in the freezer room in shorts. The regular freezer room guys were taking acid in there sometimes.

Looks like we're leaving tomorrow. ______ has to be back in NY in ten days to fly to South Africa. We're driving the equipment back ourselves-- no one else wants to go back in the van. Two of us the whole way...

week ten: the long way home

 

 

Manic Mondayz on A&E!!!

Gearing up for the biggest one-two punch in TV since the Beverly-Melrose heyday... the sometimes unbearable, occasionally hilarious, always exhausting combo of Intervention followed by Hoarders.

This 9pm to 11pm double-dose of dysfunctionality is the reality TV equivalent of watching Raging Bull and The Deer Hunter every fucking Monday night, assuming that each film were edited down to one hour in length apiece. Add the fact that A&E (sadistic bastards!) throws in a bonus episode of IV right before the 9:00 new one and spins a bonus Hoarders at 11pm, and we're talking about watching Raging Bull twice in a row followed by The Deer Hunter twice in a row (hour-long edited versions) for a total of four agonizing hours. I'm pretty sure we've never seen anything this grueling in the history of prime time television, unless you count last season's Met games on SNY.

This week's new Intervention features Sarah, an OxyContin addict who manages a massage parlor in Florida. She jerks off clients to pay for her habit, and supposedly took 8 hits of acid at once as a high school freshman! Sounds like a job for Jeff VanVonderen, the Albert Pujols of interventionists. Jeff always gets 'em off to rehab safely, and generally keeps 'em clean for good. Like they say about climbing Everest... it's not getting to the top, it's getting your ass back down alive.

Tonight's Hoarders also sounds like standard terrifying fare: Deborah's obsessive hoarding is driving her alcoholic husband to drink even more, and Jim the beekeeper has a shithole for a hive. More on this another time.

The Alaska Diaries, week 8

Pukers Die!!! The Alaska Diaries [names have been changed to protect the guilty and innocent]

WEEK EIGHT: Tequila hijinks, hitchin'

Monday (day 50)
Blew off work again.
Me, ________, and _______ buy a bottle of tequila instead. We get completely wasted before gig. The Nightwatch hates us.

Notables:
Tougher Than the Rest
Stone Free w/drums [I assume this means that I didn't play drums?]

We jump in the Kenai River after the gig. Great listen to Soul II Soul in van on way home.  _______ and _______ wrestle in the back of the van and in the dirt at the cannery.

Tuesday (day 51)
Packed freezer trucks for work.
Had beers after work and drank bottle of tequila again. I passed out early. _____ pees in the attic of the cannery. We eat a lot, drunk.

Wednesday (day 52)
Packing for work.
Tequila AGAIN!!! i don't remember much...

Thursday (day 53)
No work today. Got our paychecks-- they suck!!!
I got dicked out of most of my pay, and so did ______.
______ and ______ go down to Homer. We drive van to Kenai to get bulk food and Jack Daniels. No water at all for the night.

Friday (day 54)
No water again at all anywhere! Can't shit or shower.
We hitched to the Nightwatch in Soldotna. Saw Kaboom play their set-- made fun of them.
We put pitchers of beer on our tab for the next gig. Changed the big sign in front of the club to "49% WOLF" and "BAKOOM." We hitch home wasted.

Saturday (day 55)
Worked in the morning with ______.
We hitched to Anchorage, which was fucking far. We played pool at Chilkoot's and walked around town drinking 40s. ______ and ______ told some creepy stories.
We're all completely bombed. I puked my guts out, then we ended up with some guys doing coke. We slept in a Wonder Bread truck AGAIN! We tried to warm up at a laundromat and ________ pissed his pants. Finally we go to Denny's and sleep on a lawn in front of the restaurant. The grass was fucking beautiful.

Sunday (day 56)
We wake up in front of Denny's in the grass. We split up somehow-- ______ and I end up walking over to a mall. We found Robber Joe's record store, which is awesome. I bought Mudhoney, a Defunkt CD, and a PE single. _______ bought a record by Can and maybe Big Star.
We hitch home, which is totally beautiful. Also get sore asses from all the walking and steal Prep H from the supermarket in Soldotna. Me and ______ drink a bottle of tequila right by the river behind the Nightwatch, and are totally drunk just in time to load in and play.
I play drums completely shitfaced-- awful.

Notables:
My Sharona
Tougher Than the Rest

I jumped in the river again naked and lost my fucking wallet with ID, credit card and at least $100. I pass out in the van totally depressed. Feeling out of control.


week nine: the hours finally come through

The Alaska Diaries, week 7

Pukers Die!!! The Alaska Diaries [names have been changed to protect the guilty and innocent]
WEEK SEVEN: Visiting the family, stoned agin...


Monday (day 43)
Blew off work. Slept until fucking 5:00.

Played at Nightwatch. The club is under new ownership.

Notable songs:
After Midnight
The Ocean
There She Goes Again
Foxey Lady

Way too fucking stoned... I wore a trash bag as my stage get-up. Sang "Lay Down Sally" upside-down standing on my head.

Deguello rules!

Tuesday (day 44)
Wednesday (day 45)
Thursday (day 46)
Ridiculously stoned every night this week. Played bridge and cribbage and that's about it.

Friday (day 47)
Finally worked this morning. We drove to Kenai-- got kicked out of "The Place."

Me, ______, and ______ drove to my Uncle Howard's place right there in Kenai. Me and ______ ate stew with his family for dinner while ______ was passed out in the back of the van. Howard was cool to us... he looks like my grandfather.

We left and bought a case of beer and a bottle of Bacardi 151. Flaming shots all night (almost burned my beard)! ______ puked. Crazy night.

Saturday (day 48)
Worked a lot-- packing freezer truck.

Sunday (day 49)
Worked full day and played our Nightwatch gig.
The gigs are getting weirder/worse.

Notable songs:
You May Be Right
Stone Free (w/wah-wah)
Suzie Q. (upside-down vocals again)
_______'s new song
I Can See Clearly Now
________ is completely wasted. ______ makes out with some chick.


week eight: tequila marathons, hitchhiking

 

The Alaska Diaries, week 6

Pukers Die!!! The Alaska Diaries
[names have been changed to protect the guilty and innocent]


WEEK SIX: Wiffleball and cribbage

Monday (day 36)
Worked! Welded...

We play at the dock in front of Trans-Aqua:
Wild Thing
Crazy Train

Then we played that night at the Nightwatch:
After Midnight (beer commercial version)
Old Man
Long Haired Country Boy
Piano Man
Light My Fire
Horse... (no idea what this is)
For What It's Worth
U2 (?)
Crazy Love
Higher Ground

The bartender sings a song with us. The "Into the Music" chick hangs out with us. _________ is totally wasted and pukes. I get drunk and call _______.

Tuesday (day 37)
Short day of work.
______ and I go to a local bar that has cribbage night (contest). Totally out of our league. They play without even looking at their cards at all.

Wednesday (day 38)
Medium day of work.

Thursday (day 39)
Really long day of work. Played wiffleball outside the huts.

Friday (day 40)
More welding. Made some sort of fish chute.
Keg of beer! Lots of cribbage.

Saturday (day 41)
Short work in the morning. Went to do laundry out by Kenai. Stood around in my one pair of underwear.

Gig at The Place? Cancelled.

1st night of packing frozen fish! Totally great. Went to Pizza Hut afterwards. Nobody tipped so I had to go back in and leave money.

Sunday (day 42)
Full day of work.

We head down to Nightwatch. Car is shaky.
Sabrina gets kicked out of the club. Angela told on her! (no idea)

Notable songs:
Pale Blue Eyes
songs with full backing vocals (we took their mics)
Drivin' South/Magic Johnson
Can't Get What You Want... (Joe Jackson)
Billy Joel (?) just _____
Crazy Love also just _____

I drank Robitussin again and smoked pot this time too. TOTALLY fucked up all night. I blabbed on and on to ________ all night.

week seven: visiting my great uncle, getting too stoned too often

The Alaska Diaries, week 5

Pukers Die!!! The Alaska Diaries
[names have been changed to protect the guilty and innocent]


WEEK FIVE: Working for a living

Monday (day 29)
First real day of work. I loaded bags of salt.

We went shopping for food. Hung out in the huts after "dinner"... talked about smoking mugwort and taking belladonna with a weird guy.

Tuesday (day 30)
Second day of work. Loaded more salt and cleaned some walls.

We played in one of the trailers tonight:
Wild Night
I Wish
Mary Had a Little Lamb
Firefly
Roadhouse Blues
A-Jam
Brown Eyed Girl
L.A. Woman
Proud Mary
Pale Blue Eyes
Needle and the Damage Done
Higher Ground
Foxey Lady
Voodoo Chile
Lemon Song
Can You See Me?
Paranoid
There She Goes Again
Stormy Monday
Further On Up the Road
Sunshine of Your Love
Manic Depression

Some guy played acoustic too. "Jimbo" & ______ squared off. I broke the ride cymbal. ________ is a sick bass player.

Wednesday (day 31)
We painted. ___________ got a complaint on the job.

Our Land's End gig is cancelled.

Thursday (day 32)
Celebrated Summer Solstice at a cool place called "The Crotch." Rasta camp? ________ crashes.

Friday (day 33)
Regular day of work. We go to a bar called "The Place" afterwards. Good jukebox and bar shuffleboard. Free tacos!

Saturday (day 34)
We go back to "The Place" again. Free BBQ! Undefeated in shuffleboard! I piss off people when I play "Venus in Furs" on the jukebox.

Sunday (day 35)
I'm promoted to "Assistant Welder" for $12 an hour.

We play at Nightwatch -- great show. _______ gets totally wasted.

Notable songs:
Stone Free
Bad Case of Loving You
Blues (with new guy)

The new guy Ryan is a great singer and guitar player. I'm exhausted.


week six: wiffleball and cribbage

I don't like Mondays

[just got to the TV at 8:20 after a non-stop day of logarithms, meetings, Jr's music class, veggie soup dinner & "The Hall-o-weiner." Game is joined in progress.]

8:21 - Looks like the ballgame's been pretty busy too. Burnett's such a damn wack-job!

8:23 - Joe Buck: "Teixeira just literally took a hit away from Ibanez." How else could he take it away?

8:25 - A.J. Burnett must've stepped in dog shit... someone just ran out to the mound with what looks like a gardening spade so he can scrape the shit off his shoe.

8:32 - Cliff Lee looks kinda like an indie rocker... maybe a one-off member of the Unsane or something.

8:41 - JB awkwardly mumbles something about ALS to the effect of "if you've ever experienced the disease, or know anyone who's experienced it..." I sincerely doubt that someone that actually has ALS will feel their spirits lifted by this effort, Joe.

8:52 - Damon works the walk!

8:55 - Can you imagine if Kate Hudson sat in the bleachers (I guess they have bleachers??) at Citizens Bank Park tonight? You could make an entire film just on that.

8:59 - I can't get over Utley without his hat on... total greaseball. He looks just like Gaear Grimsrud!

9:10 - That's it for Burnett. Might be it for Lee, too. What time is the replay of Mad Men tonight?

9:15 - David Robertson should just walk around with a bomb strapped to his chest...

9:18 - Hmmm... how can I make it through this game? Spider solitaire? The nine beers left over from our party on Saturday? The quarter bottle of Delsym in the med cabinet? Hang out with-- shit, she fell asleep. Maybe I'll scrub the kitchen floor. On Ambien.

9:21 - I know!! I'll add some more crap to our FreshDirect order!

9:32 - That was kind of a bust. All I added were some pineapple chunks; I was unable to order the Chipotle-lime chicken w/rice for tomorrow's delivery.

9:33 - Hilarious dugout interview with Joe Girardi: (on Burnett) "Yeah, he didn't have the command he had last game... his fastball and breaking ball weren't working..." He sucked.

9:37 - What a snooze-fest! No, really. My wife's snoring, and I can sorta hear Jr. rumbling away in his room. That Delsym's sounding mighty smart right now.

9:42 - Hmmm... what's in the fridge?

9:48 - OK, I've decided on a tab of Ambien, a shot of Jager, an old Saturday puzzle and a bag of Goldfish crackers. I'll call it The Missouri Compromise.

9:52 - Nice foul-up by JB: "In comes Alfredo Aceves, who hasn't pitched since game 2 of the ALCS on October 17th. Except, of course, when he appeared in game 3 on October 19th and was charged with the loss..."

9:54 - Youchhh! Gardner just slammed into the wall. Swisher came over and checked on him, like "You OK man? Not that we have anyone to bring in for you if you're not, but... you sure you're OK?"

9:59 - They should run a crawl at the bottom of every game with a computer-generated stream of stat-based factoids. Stuff like "no team has ever blown a 5-run lead at home in game 5 while trying to repeat as World Series champs in an odd non-leap year against a team employing a 3-man rotation containing two lefties..."

10:04 - I'm watching baseball at 10pm in goddamn November!!! What the hell has happened to this country??!!!

10:06 - Speaking of civic outrage, I'm officially boycotting tomorrow's election. This shit that Bloomberg pulled is outrageous. The guy he's running against seems even worse, so I'm refusing to vote. I ALWAYS vote (I even voted twice in a single election once... as both a male AND female!).

10:27 - Just wandered around for about 20 minutes. Did a few dishes, had a few laughs. I also ate a giant handful of candy corn out of a bowl in the foyer-- not recommended.

10:30 - God, I hope I don't stay up until 11:30 just to watch us lose by 4 runs. That's just not something I can afford to do anymore.

10:33 - So Utley's gonna hit like 20 home runs in this Series.

10:36 - Cool! Phil "Spruce Goose" Hughes is warming up.

10:37 - Once you have a 3-1 lead in a series, your best bet really is to talk as much shit as humanly possible. In the unlikely event that you actually blow the series, you'll be so utterly devastated that people thinking you're an idiot is the very least of your worries. I learned this lesson in 2004... I skulked around for a week, terrified, when I could been insulting dimwits in varying conditions of vulnerability and having a great time.

10:49 - Whoa... starting to fade a little bit here. I just woulda swore that Mark Teixeira was Ralph Macchio.

10:51 - Some more A-Rod magic! We're only down by 4!

10:54 - My battery's about to go. If you lose me unexpectedly, it could be due to many things, probably all at once. I'm going to get a popsicle.

11:04 - Wow, this Ambien/Jager combo's awesome. I'm calling it The Roadmeister.

The Alaska Diaries, week 4

Pukers Die!!! The Alaska Diaries
[names have been changed to protect the guilty and innocent]


WEEK FOUR: Arrival at the Cannery

Monday (day 22)
We plan to leave around 9am--NOPE! Van won't start.
We have to get car towed to Tok, Alaska. They work on the van for a while, costs $80. We drive van back to pick up the rest of the guys and things seem fine.

We turn the car off, and it won't start up again. _______ has to get ride from crazy looking guy back to Tok, and comes back with the mechanic. He starts the car, but we need a new starter.

He puts in the new part while we go buy MUCH beer and a Penthouse. We get totally wasted on 16 oz. Hamm's and hang out at the garage. The guys at the garage give us salmon to cook. Car runs, but doesn't have much power. _____ drives it to the nearest campsite. I pass out drunk and miss the salmon dinner.

Tuesday (day 23)
I start off with a good shower. We leave the campsite.

Still no power driving up hills. ______ & _______ actually have to get out of the van right on the highway and push while we go up a steep hill.

We finally make it to Anchorage. Van is terrible! _______ gets an AmEx advance on his card and we eat at "Eatery." We literally roll the car into Firestone (right as we tried to leave the city).

We leave the van at Firestone and get a ride in the back of a pickup truck with a totally hot girl to Chilkoot Charlie's. We play pool and drink whatever beer we can afford. I get wasted and call ______.

The bar is huge and totally unreal. We see two bands playing at the same time in different parts of the club-- "Kaboom" and "Fear of Flying"... Fear of Flying performs completely insane covers of "Mr. Roboto" (with costumes), Journey, Pink Floyd, ZZ Top, Genesis and "Cars" by Gary Numan. Great place.

We stumble out of the place and sleep in the back of a Wonder Bread truck parked nearby. Freezing cold!!! The rest of the guys get high and sleep at a church, get busted, and walk around forever.

Wednesday (day 24)
We wake up in bread truck. Buy coffee and rolls at 7-11.

We see the rest of the guys back at Firestone. They all fell asleep in the showroom while me and _____ walked around. We got _____ and went to Denny's across the street for hours. Then we went back to Firestone to sleep some more (______ slept in the tires display).

The van was fixed by noon, but I wasn't approved for a Firestone credit card. The bill is $412! The car still doesn't have a lot of power - lots of trouble on hills.

We got to the Trans-Aqua processing plant in Kasilof today. Nice place! We apply for jobs & hang out with a bunch of people. Took a nap. We ate lots of food and drink lots of beer.

Thursday (day 25)
We get up early and drive to Soldotna for our audition at the Nightwatch. The car needs to be jumped.

We play "Mary Had a Little Lamb", "Sneakin' Sally...", "Lay Down Sally", "Roadhouse Blues", "Drivin' South" and "Firefly". _____'s bass breaks during the set. We get the gig! Half-price food and free beer.

The Nightwatch guy (Ira) gets us completely stoned. HIGH! We drive down to Homer to find more clubs. We eat raw Ramen noodles in the van. We stop at a gas station and _______ buys everyone two candy bars each.

I sleep. And sleep. ________ snores really fucking loud. Everyone sleeps.

Friday (day 26)
I wake up late. Clean out the van... it won't start again.

______ is already working here at the plant. We sit around and play pitch.

Trans-Aqua has an opening season party tonight. The party is nuts! Huge spread of food and beer. ______ gets totally wasted immediately, and so does everyone else. _______ kicks a chicken across the floor and gets yelled at.

We set up the equipment and play:
"A" Jam
Sneakin' Sally
Mary Had a Little Lamb
Dead Flowers
L.A. Woman
Roadhouse Blues
Heard It Through the Grapevine
Suzie Q
Lay Down Sally
Cocaine
American Woman
Voodoo Chile
Stone Free
Good Times Bad Times
Shotgun Blues
Long Train Runnin'
Brown Eyed Girl
Blues (?)
The Lemon Song
Drivin' South

We're billed as "Pro Motorcycle"... the drums completely fall apart during the set. ________ makes out with some chick at the party. Our boss hooks up too.

A guy named Marty sings "Purple Halibut" and other weird songs. He also calls _______ a "dildo" at the party.

We get crazy high and ________ sprays a fire extinguisher everywhere.

Saturday (day 27)
I missed work. ________ bikes to town (on what bike?).

It's cold and rainy today. We play pitch and get high.

Later we drive down to Homer. We eat pizza (lots of it!).

We audition at the "Land's End" club.

We played:
Gimme Three Steps
Sneakin' Sally
Mary Had a Little Lamb
Dead Flowers
Firefly
Roadhouse Blues
Lay Down Sally
"A" Jam
Brown Eyed Girl

We got the gig! $300+ on Thursday nights. I slept in the van the whole way home.

Sunday (day 28)
Father's Day. I slept late! Played cribbage.

Tonight we play our first gig at the Nightwatch for $200. We eat lots of half-price food.

SET LIST:
Stone Free
Sneakin' Sally
Mary Had a Little Lamb
Dead Flowers
Firefly
Wild Night
Roadhouse Blues
Lay Down Sally
"A" Jam
Brown Eyed Girl
L.A. Woman
Heard It Through the Grapevine
Proud Mary
Fortunate Son
Bad Moon Rising
Funk You
Shotgun Blues
Pale Blue Eyes
Needle and the Damage Done
Ohio
Can't Help Falling in Love
Drivin' South
Honky Tonk Women
Further On Up the Road
Long Train Runnin'
Bad Case of Loving You
I Wish
American Woman

WASTED! Me, ________, and _______ get kicked out of the club. "Isis" is kinda hot.

We all rolled around in the back of the van on the way home (dangerous!). _______ pukes back at the cannery, and _______ falls over.

The Alaska Diaries, week 3

Pukers Die!!! The Alaska Diaries
[names have been changed to protect the guilty and innocent]


WEEK THREE: The Watson Lake junkyard

Monday (day 15)
Cost estimated at $1800 to $2000 to fix van. Will take 3-4 days.
We go to library, take nap, play more pitch.
________ calls - they're coming back to get us (?).
We eat kidney beans with honey & mustard.

Tuesday (day 16)
More Watson Lake...

Wake up late. Steal 5-Alive from gas station.
We finally play bridge. Visited the "signs" park down the road by people on Al-Can.
We eat split pea & ham soup and play more bridge. Raining! Tent gets wet.
_________ steals tobacco from gas station.
We have to get the hell out of here...

Wednesday (day 17)
More Watson Lake...

Wake up earlier today. We haven't showered in a while.

________ and I jump in the filthy muddy lake. Bugs everywhere.

________ and _______ call. Plan is to meet them in Whitehorse.

I tried to steal fries from someone's plate at the diner. We played a lot of bridge. Stole license plates.

Thursday (day 18)
We may leave today!!! The drive shaft needs to be fixed too.

We didn't leave today. More bridge in tent.

I called _______ and my Mom at home. I got a 3.4 for the semester!

We're leaving tomorrow!!! We eat mac & cheese. Our fifth night in the junkyard.

Friday (day 19)
We are leaving soon.
We took down the tent and cleaned up the area this morning.

After many hassles (flames coming from exhaust pipe, lady tells us story about car exploding, other problems...) we finally left Watson Lake.

After a couple of hours, the drive shaft falls off going 60 on the Al-Can.

We end up in Swift River, and meet some really nice guys. We need a U-joint for the van, which is being shipped in from Whitehorse. We set up our tent in front of the gas station.

Saturday (day 20)
Shower!
4:00 - our part should come in.

The wrong part comes in... but we still make it back on the road!

We're now in Whitehorse with _______, _________, and _________.
_________ just got his haircut.
I feel much better.

Sunday (day 21)
We have to jump the van twice before we leave Whitehorse.
No hassles at the border.

We camp only 300 miles from Anchorage. Eagle Lake/River?

I drank a bottle of Robitussin that was in the van. NUTS! Listened to AC/DC on headphones and played bridge in the tent. "The Larvas!"



week four: arrival at the cannery