Stuff/On/Tom | Sunday/reviews. | For/um. | Other/shit.

Holidays?  More like LOLidays here @ riotworthy!!!eleven!! lmao rofl! etc



A three day weekend of family goings ons was beginning.  I went to the bus station with my whiskey and coke in a twenty ounce bottle and watched the freakshows.  A young girl got out a laptop and an obese lady with lots of bags and small, insane eyes began questioning her about what kind of video games she was playing.  The girl answered with small, disassociated answers with what appeared to be the intent of discouraging follow up questions.  Eventually, it worked.  A young couple sat next to each other while their bratty child wandered around playing with payphones.  The bag lady walked up to the parents.  

"Is she allowed to have candy?"  She offered a candy cane.

"  No, she's already had enough, but thank you..."

The bag lady sat back down and snapped her fingers in a gesture of defeat.  I just kept sipping my drink.  A girl walked in that I think was actually attractive, but my impression of as much might have just been a product of her contrast with our surroundings.  She sat next to me.  I was almost flattered then I realized I was the most normal looking person there, which I'm not used to, so it didn't really effect my self-esteem.  

I wanted to talk to the hottie but I hadn't brushed my teeth in a while so I decided it would be impolite.  I went to the bathroom to add more whiskey to my coke before we boarded the bus.  The two guys across from me were passing a fifth back and forth, chasing with coke.  I didn't ask for any until I ran out of my own coke.  I looked at the closest guy until he noticed me.

"Can I bum some of that from you?"  I pointed at his coke can and he looked at me like I was strange.

"I'm almost out, but there's another one in my bag up there."  He pointed at the luggage compartment above my head.  I stood up.  

"It's the bag on the left, in the right-hand side."  I dug through his duffle bag.

"That's taking you a while, you better not be jacking my camera or anything."

"Yeah, yeah, yea..."  And then I found it.  I sat down drank my whiskey and chased it and then he passed me his whiskey.  I drank some of that.  He didn't notice my bottle.  When his bottle was empty, he and the guy next to him seemed happy for themselves.  It was at that instant that I passed my bottle.

"Oh, shit.  We're not done yet."  The first guy informed the second guy.  And so it was that in two hours three pints of whiskey were consumed.  I had to piss but I knew that if my drunken-ness and the darkness and bumpiness of the bus combined forces, it would result in me falling over repeatedly on the way to the bathroom and maybe getting kicked off the bus.   So, I held it.

At the bus station, I'd thought about going number two as well, but since the only available john looked like this, I just decided to hold onto my load for a while.


In Portland, I met up with my brother and some folks.  His girlfriend had free tickets to some comedy club.  Usually stand-up comics are too attention hungry for me, but these guys were pretty good.  I stayed at my brother's apartment and crashed to Under Siege 2: Dark Territory, starring Steven Segal.

The next morning I got up and cleaned up the mess I'd made trying to cook for myself in the middle of the night.  My brother slept in, as usual, and my boredom led to a whiskey breakfast before we finally made it to meet my aunt and uncle at their house.

My cousin still lives at home and likes small dogs.  We walked in the front door to see her in the living room with moving blankets on either side of her.  These would be her weiner dog and chihuahua covered in bedding for her amusement.  She exumed the chihuahua and carried it around like the pitiful, living fasion accessory that it is.  I made an attempt to touch it, which resulted in it pissing.  The piss landed mostly on a nice looking jacket hung over a chair my cousin stood next to.  

She cussed and then yelled at her father.  "Dad!  Is this your jacket?"

"Oh, yeah.  I was gonna bring that."  He walked in the room just to be welcomed by the explanation that his jacket had been urinated on.  My cousin and I argued about whether it was my fault for trying to touch the dog or whether it was her fault for choosing such an impractical pet.  She said she didn't choose it, it was a gift.  Then, she caught herself and started referring to the dog as "him," not "it."

What a shitty gift.

Its eyes don't even point the same direction.  Natural Selection is truly a thing of the past.

So, they did a quick job cleaning the coat and we went to Seattle.   My Aunt talked about her spinal surgery that got bumped from January to April because her doctor died of heart failure.  She explained:

"Thanks goodness, I would say thank God but I don't believe in God, so thank goodness he didn't die while he was operating on me.  A slip of the scalpel and we could have both died."

My brother and I nodded in agreement.

Our hotel in Seattle was swanky as fuck.  There were blue lit hallways and the elevators played techno music.  After dinner and drink and all that people were winding down.  I shared a room with my brother and he decided on a shitty pay-per-view movie as entertainment, so I ate some acid that didn't phase me much because it was kinda weak to begin with plus I was really drunk.  I got a phone call from a friend in Seattle who was willing to pick me up and take me out for food.  I gave him the address of the hotel and he was on his way.  The elevators required room keys, which might be common for upper class places but I don't know.  So, he had to call again upon arrival for me to come let him up.  I left the hotel room wearing nothing but my boxers and the white bathrobe I found in the bathroom banking on the halls being somewhat desolate because it was the early a.m.  Of course there were about four well dressed middle aged people in the elevator that gave me strange looks.  A gentleman in nice attire said awkwardly, "Looks like somebody's ready to party..."  I looked at him through huge pupils and nodded with poor rhythm.

I showed my friend to the room and finished my beer.  He took me out to eat someplace that was 24 hours with huge leather seats and a wait staff that seemed even more coked out than most wait staffs.  I ordered a fruitata, not really sure what a fruitata was.  So.  Much.  Egg.

Back at the hotel I learned that my brother snores like a mother fucker.  I haven't shared a room with him in years and somehow I managed to forget that.  The next morning went pretty normally, breakfast beer, then actual breakfast.  Then we went to a Seahawks game.  I don't follow sports at all, so I ate more acid to help it be interesting.  The $7 beers made me wish I had a flask, but no.  I managed to keep entertained enough to make it through, and then it was dinner time and I managed to pull it together pretty well for the family, I think.  We went to our rooms and I drank in bed, restless most of the night.

Morning came and we checked out and went back to Portland, where I watched tv until I got a ride to the bus station.  A large man with a rotting sleeping bag sat behind me on the bus and I was punished by what smelled like decaying dairy emanating from his direction as he spoke gibberish.  The guy next to me was nice enough though, he just got out of prison and was on his way south to start over.  We got along well.  Back in Eugene, I ate Thai food.  It was awesome.



It snowed, more than the usual dusting we get, so we decided to have some fun, redneck style.  A garden hose was fixed to the tow-hitch of my roommate's subaru, such that both ends hung loose, acting as handles.  JW and I each held an end and and sat on inner tubes, we were dragged up and down the big hill on Donald St.  SO MUCH FUN.  Until...our driver led us on a street with enough tree cover that it didn't really get much snow.  I managed not to get very mutilated but this happened to JW.

if peaches could suffer

and of course the shirt he was wearing


then we walked around taking picture of car accidents, because people here don't know how to drive in the snow.

tow truck drivers make da big bucks

an esteemed collegue models next to probably the most dynamic wreck we found




and then.


There was this girl who'd been over at my place some nights before and I was drunk and she wasn't but I was somehow still a gentleman, which is surprising to some folks but I do have the capacity to be as much. I spilled beer on her leg as I heavily petted her and she didn't care. I walked her to her car and she kissed me on the lips. Seemed like it might go somewhere. Come Christmas Eve, we were supposed to hang out. I'd been expecting her call but it wasn't coming so I knew what to do. I took a shit. I don't believe in much but my dating experience has led me to believe that I will only get phone calls when I don't want them. So, mid-shit, of course, she called. I pretended that I wasn't taking a shit and made plans to come over later. She was going to call back, and I didn't have much to do, so I decided to take a nap because that's the only other time that girls usually call me. So, I napped, and in about twenty minutes got a call from her friend giving me inadequate directions. Well, they might have been adequate, but I wasn't really listening because I'm a delivery boy and it's a test of my skills to find places on my own. I'd been drinking and was planning on drinking more so I ate three pieces of bread quickly before heading over. I didn't feel impressive so on my way I bought energy drinks. I pounded one and went to her place. Or what seemed like her place until an Asian guy with glasses answered the door. I called and got better directions. I showed up and she and her friend were high, doodling. Not exciting. I got out my whiskey and started coping. The decoration was generic for young people. Beatles, John Lennon, Will Ferral, Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, so on. Somewhere you can probably buy all those posters in a pack with each other. Will Ferral isn't such a standard addition, but the rest are a collective old stand-by for young decorators trying to make an impression, because the work of the aforementioned musicians is old enough, that by celebrating interest in it despite being a later generation, you're officially open-minded. However, it's become familiar through decades of radio play and is easy enough on the audio pallet that it's not actually controversial enough to be risky listening by today's standards, so you're not chancing actually discouraging potential social partners with these poster choices, not in most cases.

that is why every college kid has these fucking posters.

i had been in this apartment one thousand times before.

I went through her iTunes and she had none of these artists. Jesus.

People showed up and talked and I drank. They kept talking and eventually I said I needed to go and that I had stuff to do. A girl, not the first one in the story, but the girl I'd met her through, said no I didn't, I was bored. She knows me pretty well.

I finished my whiskey and listened to depressing music on the ride home. Then I drank more whiskey and a bottle of wine and Christmas had finally arrived. I woke up around 11 and took a shot of whiskey then poured a glass of whiskey then ate two hits of acid. The heavily tattooed chick that works at baglesphere showed up with her husband around noon and took me to ihop. They thought it was weird that I ate three plates of food. They took me back to my house and I drank more whiskey and eventually they left and I ate a couple more hits of acid and went on a walk. When I got home I had a few more hits of acid. My roommate was talking, about who knows what, just very animated and dynamic. I retreated to my room and tried to make sense of the internet. He came in my doorway and started talking about something again. I smiled and nodded and whatevered.

"Have you taken any acid today?" He asked almost completely out of context.

"So much."

It wasn't fun now that he knew, cos people treat you differently when they know. So, I had to stay in the room. I turned out the lights and laid down. It was something like 11 o'clock. For the first couple hours the waving lights on the ceiling entertained me but those gradually dissolved into nagging questions about why I'm reluctant to include people in my life and why I'm so intolerant when I don't feel entertained and what gives me the right to only select human company when I feel I have something to gain from it and so on. The first time I got up to piss it was about 2 a.m. The questions continued, unclear questions that you're mind can't form answers to. My thoughts had tracers, like when you look at a light bulb and turn it out, and in the darkness you can still see the shape. that's how every thought is. It still lingers when you try to change the channel. it turns into static. The next time I got up to piss it was 7 in the morning. I accepted that I would have a shitty shift, and come 10:30, that was surely the case.

The next day I went through all the usual motions and finally went to Buckethead in the evening. Buckethead is fucking awesome.  If I was Buckethead, I would be so pleased with myself.  But I'm not. I was convinced to go to a bar after the show because a friend's friend's band was playing. I went and paid the $3 and got a beer and paced and was grinding my teeth during the estrogen fueled acoustic opening act. The friend that talked me into going and reimbursed me for the cover charge saw me finish my beer and reach for my jacket.

"Are you leaving already?"
"Yeah. Stuff to do." not true.

I bought a forty and drank it in the park, enjoying the wind and the rain. I looked at all the house lights, thinking of each one as someone else's life. I wondered what the fuck they were finding to do at this hour. I made it home drenched and drunk. I slept for a few hours then picked up JW at the airport. We exchanged stories on the drive home then poured the whiskey and got to napping around noon. Band practice was great, sleep was fine.


really old months:

December, 2008
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