Went to CdA with Brian. Stopped in at Goodwill, and as I was examining electronics of various worthlessness, he approached me in a ladies wetsuit, such as one would use for scuba diving or snorkeling. You could tell it was a female piece because it had breasts, which he couldn’t leave alone. He paraded around the store in it for a while before asking me if I would help him get it off because his hands were turning purple. I responded with a simple, “Fuck you.” Upon closer inspection, however, it was apparent that his hands really were turning purple. We began the project of trying to peel the wetsuit off my brothers body, but when it’s a few sizes too small and totally dry, this doesn’t go to well. I couldn’t contain the laughter too well, which only made us more of a spectacle as we attempted in vain to release my brother of his new skin. Eventually we prevailed though, and Brian decided not to buy it.
Double entry! That same night at the restaurant, I was carrying a metal wine bucket thing out to the bar area when Zachary Fucking Snyder of all people was entering the establishment. The waitresses were hanging out at the bar as always, and they were asking him these questions about if he was meeting someone there and whatnot. I threw the bucket at him after a powerful, vocal, “BLEH!” It bounced off his chest and he fumbled it with his hands a couple times before it ricocheted off a chair and on to the floor. The waitresses were all slack jawed because they didn’t know that I knew him, they feared I was throwing buckets at just anybody. But we got that all cleared up and later that night I made a big cock and balls out of mashed potatoes and had a waitress take it out to his table with instructions to “place it so the balls are facing the guy with glasses, and just say ‘compliments of the kitchen.’” He was eating with his girl friend, mom, and step dad, so this was pretty hilarious. Zachary molded it into a nice rack, complete with red potato skins as nipples, and sent it back. His mom found me later and told me I did a real good job. I was really happy with this because it isn’t often that I get compliments from my friends families, but apparently my attempts in the past just haven’t been penis oriented enough to please most people.
Today at the restaurant my boss asked me if I knew how to start the tiki torches on the patio. I said nothing at first because it was so inconcievable that a human being could not know how to light a tiki torch that I figured there was some trick to her question. Due to time restraints, however, I cut my analysis short and responded with, "Touch fire to the wick?" And my boss said, "I don't know," then turned to a fellow employee and asked, "Is that how you do it?" The employee said yes. Apparently my boss hasn't operated these machines before. I was reaching for a BBQ lighter gun thing we keep there pretty much just for that I think, and when my hand had almost made contact with it my boss pointed at it and asked, "Do you think that would work?" I said yes before going out to the patio and lighting the five tiki torches. I came back in and got to work in the kitchen. She approached me from behind and asked if something had come up, wondering why I didn't do my task. I said that I did do it. She said some of them weren't lit. I figured there were some that I missed since I'd never done this before, but she pointed out through the window three that I had indeed lit that had burned out. I said I lit them and they must have gone out. I said they were probably out of fuel. She did not believe me, so I was lighting them again when I noticed one was still kind of burning. I brought her over and showed her that it had been lit, but wasn't still burning, and said I thought it was probably out of fuel once again. She ignored me and asked if it could maybe be a wick problem, then she pinched the wick, which was surrounded in a film of blue flame. Her reaction expressed pain for some bizzare reason...apparently she managed to get her college degree without learning that fire and skin don't mix. I pulled the canister out of the torch and unscrewed it. Shaking it to show her there was no sound, I felt the part of the wick that absorbs the fluid and doesn't burn before offering it to her and saying it was "Dry as a bone." She touched it and gave me a look that flawlessly depicted the shame I had hoped she was feeling. I held my breath for a moment then inhaled deeply to capture the essence of defeat that hung so heavily in her polluted aura. It felt good to have it inside me. So then I changed the tiki torch fuel and everything else went normally.
Went to Eugene (in Oregon) with Matt and JW. House shopping. I have reached a level of disgust with this village that I dare call my home that it has become time to replace it. Anyway, JW and I drank some yohimbe tea again and Matt drove first shift as we headed south around 8 p.m. On the freeway by the time it was about 11:30, a car passed us that made Matt angry cause the back red light things reminded him of demon eyes. Shortly after this we were coming to pass them and they had their dome light on in the car, the guy in shotgun apparently reading something to the girl driving. They looked 20 ish, maybe a couple years older. We decided to turn our dome light on and have JW play with his nipple while Matt and I looked straight forward. JW was in back, so they had an unobstructed view of him as we passed them. You know in the pitch black of a late night middle of nowhere freeway you can't help but see inside peoples cars with the lights on. So yeah, they passed us a couple minutes later, and by this time JW had his shirt all the way off and was leaning up against the window closest to them vigorously massaging his whole man-bossom. Every time we encountered the car, we'd flick our inside ilght on just as we passed to maximize effect. The following time we passed them again, JW's bare ass pressed against the window. We got in front of them and they flicked their brights. What dicks, huh? Then they passed us in their fancy new car, driving quickly. Having little time to think of something too awesome, I took off my shirt before turning on the light then diving on the already half naked JW. They maintained their position in front of us for a great while, and even at 85 we couldn't keep up for their were going 90 plus. While Matt pursued though, JW took off more clothes. It took twenty or thirty minutes to catch up with them, and we were kind of afraid it wouldn't happen, but apparently they felt secure enough to slow down. This was a mistake. We passed them once more, JW wearing just his pants and boxers down around his ankles. My seat was reclined and he had his knees on the headrest and had bent the rest of his naked body over the back seat. I sat on my knees on the front seat with my shirt off and my pants undone a ways, slapping him relentlessly on the ass. We drove along side them as this took place, and then passed and flicked the dome light off. They clearly took notice, because the rest of the drive they didn't drive faster than about 55 or 60, obviously because they were afraid of what they'd be exposed to. It was probably the gayest thing I've done in my life, but at least we won, right?
Today I was in the process of changing shifts with JW at the music shop when a group of fellows about our age came in. They were from some special academy or something because they had to get receipts for their purchases and pay with limited amounts of money from clean little envelopes. One of them wanted a brown hat he found in back that had a tag of $6.95, though he only had about two dollars on him. He offered to trade his plain white hat, which still had the thrift store pricing of another two dollars written on the tag in the inside. No deal. He offers a CD. James Taylor. Not a huge seller but we put it on the pile with the hat and money. He really wants this hat so I have him let me try his sunglasses on. They were aviators, and I have been looking for some for a while. No fit. Checked on the mirror and they looked bad on me so I gave them back. One of his friends says that hat boy can dance for us. JW discuss which dances are worth store credit to us and eventually decide a stunt is in order. After failing to meet a number of our requests, we finally reach a comprimise. One of his friends who mentioned having a suit in his backpack was to put on the suit top while hat boy climbed into the really huge plastic garbage can on the sidewalk. We had to get a few people out of the shop and lock up for the stunt to occur. And to maximize viewing...Anyhow, hat boy smelled both garbage cans and chose the least rancid, which was still no treat. Once he climbed it exposed his body pretty much from the ribs up. At this point, suit boy was to rock the garbage can as far back on the wheels as he could and push while running as fast as he could until he came to half way through first street, AKA one of the busiest streets in town. At this point he would spin a 180 and run back. Meanwhile hat boy was to yell gibberish as loud as he could. So they began. Apparently the human body was not taken into consideration when designing this line of garbage can, because it fell over instantly, but they got their shit back together and kept going. They made it down the block and into first just as planned, though honestly the guys gibberish was pretty weak. He just yelled monosylabic nonsenses as opposed to entire jumbles, which I feel is when it warrants the title, "gibberish." But yeah, he fell out a few more times after that and it looked like it really hurt on account of the concrete and all, so we let him have the hat. As the transaction was coming to a close the owner of a neighboring store that had watched stopped in to let us know the lady from the Real Estate place on first called the cops. So our victims ran away, but I guess the same shopkeeper talked the lady into calling the police back and cancelling their whole day ruining plan because he thought it as funny. Which is cool, 'cause that probably wouldn't have gone over well with our boss.... 8/07/03
Whew. Last night JW and I drank some tea made out of yohimbe bark. Aside from my chronic binge drinking, I'm not usually one to experiment with substances that make you feel funny. But I really like tea, so I figured in the name of tea it was ok. It pretty much tasted just like the bark that they put on playgrounds to keep kids from hurting themselves when they fall off the monkey bars and to mask the scent of vomit should the need be present. I don't know if any of you tasted that stuff when you were little, but same sorta deal. Only this stuff makes your eyes turn totally red and gives you a very mild body high. Some guys that saw us in the grocery store tracked us down in the parking lot and tried to buy weed off of us, which I am attributing to the bloodshot glance and vacant smile I gave one in the checkout line. Once we were home we convinced my brother, Brian to drink some, after telling him it felt like having a mild alcohol buzz without the sensation of fluid expansion in your digestive system. Which was a lie. It's nothing like that, but I figured it was the only way we could sell him on the idea. Oddly enough, he agreed and downed a cup of this over the counter substance. He said he didn't feel anything much and we all went to bed. JW and I were crashing on the couches in the living room, and after an hour and a half of sleeplessness, we decided to watch tv. I heard this tea had a powerful stimulant effect, so we figured Brian wasn't sleeping either. He came out of his room at about 2:30 and just said, "Fucking tea." To which we all laughed. We watched tv till about 4 and apparently my brother was having the same undying erections I was having. JW was a little, but he had broken a ten day try spell with a rigorous masturbation binge the night before so he didn't have the constant burden my brother and I did. We tried sleeping again and called it quits after another hour to research this stuff online. Apparently most people who take it do in fact get bulletproof hard-ons, neasea, and can't sleep for a very long time. That's pretty much how it went. We tried drinking beer to counteract it, but that made the neasea that much worse. It's really weird having such a long period where the only things your body seems capable of doing are jacking off and puking. I'm at 29 hours without sleep, I've "done my business" a number of times, and I am still going strong. Fucked up tea. All for $2 at the health food store.