Monday, February 07, 2005
Tin Soldiers / Four Dead
I went to a birthday party on the south side on Saturday night and got nicely saucy. I took it slow and managed to avoid combining vodka and keg beer, my surefire downfall of late. There was a big unwashed crankypants wearing a black and green Ohio hoodie trudging about the party looking like somebody had shat on his waffles that morning. When we met by chance at the keg, I asked him if he'd attended a school in that state.
"No, this was five dollars."
Even though I had the answer, I decided it would be clever to ask him if he listens to Neil Young. I should've assumed that he'd be a Lynyrd Skynyrd fan that took "Southern Man" personally. As it turns out he had no idea who Neil Young is and had never heard "Ohio." So naturally I took to calling him Neil Young for the rest of the evening. I wasn't trying to be an asshole, but I was a little too pleased by my inside joke. He scowled and eventually began calling me inaccurate racial slurs. I apologized and asked his name. His response was to knock my beer from my hands.
I really wanted to violently assault him, but the host yanked me from Neil's sight. I managed to stay away from the fat fuck for almost an hour. At this point my buzz had begun to overcome logic and reason. My compadres all asked me to kindly restrain myself and be the bigger man, not to fight, and not to provoke. I did manage that but I was not willing to banish myself to one room to avoid Neil. I roamed freely and glared at the shitball whenever he came into radar range. He continued to avoid my gaze and kept his lumpy potato ass in motion. He never stood still.
Strangly enough his brother shares my name, Steve. He said that "Neil" usually isn't such a bastard. I thanked him for being cool about the situation and said that I hoped we wouldn't end up on opposite sides of a rumble. He agreed.
On the way home I had bad gas. I almost euthanized my fellow passengers. I couldn't hold those beauties in. To my credit, I rolled down my window and invited them to do the same. Sorry you guys. MGD can do that.
We were going to have a nice little morning bender at the former roomie's house, but I couldn't breathe the air due to the ferret musk. Usually it's just a bad smell for me endure, but this time my windpipe clenched tight and I felt as if I were breathing through a straw. I went outside and was told to stop being a baby. It was a fair comment, since my disdain for his pets is well known. In this case I wasn't having a drunken hissyfit, I was experiencing a genuine allergic reaction. Oh well. Finally I left and got home to crash. Merciful sleep.
9:16 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
Chemlawn For The Soul
Corpse Putrefaction Calculations
Plastic Saturns vs. Dashboard Daisies
Pants On Fire
Jackson Pollock vs. David Koresh
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Ballads About Food