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        Saturday, May 24, 2008

    Pity Me...

    I slept 12 hours last night, woke up at 11 this morning, just had crepes with applesauce filling in them and whipped cream on them, and now I have the entire weekend ahead of me to be by myself if I want. Well, except that the wife is leaving this evening to go do some more holy-rolling.

    Last night, the kids and I nested on the couch together, and watched the Johnny Depp Willy Wonka together, as I said yesterday, and Tim Burton did not disappoint, for once. A beautiful, amazing movie, full of multi-level themes, many of them quite dark.

    We broke in the first half hour or so, as I had to pause it, and break out the candy. The kid's Christmas and Easter stash. This morning, the floor around the couch looked like someone had thrown a grenade into a pinata. The wife was not pleased.

    Hey, it ain't a candy binge if you are not flinging wrappers everywhere. After a bit, the kids didn't want anymore, and I'd eaten all the stuff I liked, so the feast subsided, and we just watched the movie. Every so often, Nat would clap her hands together and exclaim "Oh! It's soooo beeyootiful!" It really is a gorgeous film.

    For some reason, not sure why, the wife and I got to talking yesterday about her bleeding twat. Yes, it IS that time of the month, why do you ask? Anyway, a bunch of memories came flooding back, hemorrhaging, if you will, of a time in my life, long and long ago. A much crazier time, not the pastoral quietude I currently enjoy.

    I used to party at a house once upon a time, long and long ago, and I partied with folks Jesus would have been comfortable with. Murderers, thieves, women who undoubtedly hooked part time, outlaw bikers, felons, misdemeanants, and scoundrels of every sort.

    I fit right in.

    One night, my girlfriend (live-in, who was one day to become the mother of four of my children) and I went to see Journey in concert. This was before they got the new (to me, now) singer. She had gone to the local high school with the original singer, and he scored us tickets, and backstage passes. Gosh, those fuckers were loud. It was just before the album with 'Wheel In The Sky' came out, and they did the song as an encore.

    I forget the guys name, but he was a white guy with an afro, and faggy 70's silk shirts and velvety bellbottoms, and he was taller than me, and I hated him right off the bat. And my woman invited him to come to the den of iniquity with us and party, and he said sure, so off we went.

    Well, she drank herself half blind right away, and has enough Cherokee blood in her, she just plain cannot handle her alcohol. And this asshole from Journey was all over her. I sat in the corner and burned, and drank, and most of the people there knew me, and kept darting nervous glances my way. And I was painfully aware of the pistol in my belt.

    Finally, he casually cupped one of her breasts in his hand, and she smiled drunkenly up at him, and okay, fucker, it's on. I stood and drew and the owner of the house said 'Bane, no!' and I rolled the gun by the trigger guard around one finger, and handed it to him butt first, and said 'you'd best hold onto this' and then got to the couch where they were sitting, cupped my hand around the nape of his neck and lifted him up to me, gut-punched him to knock any fight out of him, then tossed him stumbling and running to keep from falling, to the front door.

    People moved back to get out of our way. I slammed him out through the screen door onto the raised porch, and the dumb shit actually tried to fight. Well, at least he raised his fists up. So I punched him in his jaw hard enough to knock him over the porch rail and he flipped up and over and lay there, splayed out on the lawn.

    I turned to the guys out on the porch smoking and drinking (over flow capacity, dontcha know) and snarled something along the lines of "Get this fucking cocksucker out of my sight before I kill him..." and a couple of them peeled off, and helped him to a car and drove him away.

    I think I may have related that story here, but not in such great detail. That was a weird weekend. And yes, we would drink til everybody left, then pass out,wake up, go to breakfast, and start all over again. That same night, some grunt, on leave from Viet Nam (or maybe the war had ended, and he was fresh back...I forget) sat on the couch and drank and drank and drank, and never lost that 1,000 yard stare. Haunted, he was. Finally, he topped off his tank, and passed out. Somebody laid him out on the couch, and eventually, you could see a spreading stain of urine forming a Rorschach Blot around him in the crotchal area.

    The wife of the homeowner saw it, and screeched "Get this fucker out of here!" so the guys as what brung him, hauled him outside. I got curious, and eventually went outside to enjoy the spectacle. Being helpful friends, they had provided him with a beer to sober him up, and he was propped up against a car, looking for all the world like a punch-drunk boxer leaning into the ropes.

    And it was my car. I bounded over the fence and headed for them, and the other guys moved away, and drunk-boy just stood there, well, slumped there, drooling, and trying to get the neck of the bottle into his mouth. I yelled "Get your motherfucking pissy ass off my car!"

    He just kinda looked at me like a dumb animal. "I said move, motherfucker, or I'm gonna stomp a turd outta you!" and his eyes went cold and hard, and he began to calculate odds and angles, and boy did I know that look all too well, so when he open-palmed the beer in his hand at the side of my head, I dropped under it, and then snapped a kick into his gut.

    Fight over. He's laying on his side, vomiting, curled up in a ball, and I'm in my car trunk rummaging for a rag and some cleaning agent to remove his piss from my '64 Chevy Impala SS before I end up with a butt-shaped stain on it.
    I learned later that he was some kind of Force Recon Marine. Fuck him. Stay off my car. His wouldn't be the last Marine ass I ever kicked.

    Well, I'm old, and domesticated now, and about to go downstairs and eat a 'German Chocolate Cake' Blizzard from Dairy Queen, so I'll sign off, now. Maybe for the day, maybe not. Thunderstorms threaten.

    Happy Saturday!


    Dammit, I distracted myself. Damned ADD. All of that menstrual stuff I wrote above had a point, but I got sidetracked. "Ooooo, look! Ice cream!"

    One night, there, on that weird weekend, I had to piss. So I stood up and announced loudly to the room that 'I have to go drain my uterus!'. Oh, I got razzed. The very reaction I was seeking. And every time I went to the bathroom as long as I went to that house from that day forward, whenever I got up to go to the bathroom, someone would ask 'Gonna go drain yer uterus?' and the room would fall out with laughter.

    Well, on this day, I went in to pee, and spotted a box of tampons. I finished pissing, and opened one, popped it out, and put it in a pocket. I then ambled in to the kitchen (yes, they were still hooting at me) and got the ketchup out of the fridge, and soaked the tampon in it. Then I stuffed the tampon down the front of my pants, and ambled back in to the living room.

    I went up to the lady of the house (more like house bitch) and reached in and grabbed the string, and popped it out of my pants, and asked her 'hey, do you have any more of these? I'm having a pretty heavy flow this month...' and oh, you should have seen the place fall out.

    Then I got to chasing guys around with it, and they would run in horror like little bitches.
    One chick threatened that if I stuck mine on her, she'd stick hers on me.

    She won.