Halloween. Awesome. The Cocky Pedestrians, a band I am in, were supposed to play a show at my brothers house but JW didn't start writing any music till about 3 hours prior. We had one song on CD we could rap along with. Prolly bust out with "The C-Section Song," a love song about sex with flesh wounds. Anyhow, as JW finished the beats, an idea came to me. Trick or Beering. It seemed simple enough. I let myself be absorbed by the ninja suit, then added a pink ribbon to my head for flare. JW rigged a black shirt around his face and put a hood over it, creating a makeshift ninja suit. We put a couple of Matt's pabst blue ribbons in grocery bags to make it look like people were giving us beer, which would hopefully make potential donors comfortable and generous. Not quite. We walked door to door in the dark knocking loudly and shouting "TRICK OR BEER!" to those who answered. Most found it amusing they said, some gave us candy and told us to go away, but the finer people invited us in for shots, which we drank through our face masks to maximize awesomeness. It was an interesting feeling, walking through strangers homes in a ninja suit only to take shots, bow, and leave. First house gave vodka, the second gin, the third gave pounds of jack daniels, and one guy actually invited us in for everclear. I'd never had it straight before. It's pretty much like rubbing alcohol. We gave him a shitload of candy as thanks. In a semi-delapidated apartment building, we knocked on one door that wasn't latched. We kept knocking until it swung open, and JW, having bigger balls than me, walked right in. I followed behind him and we discovered a girl on the couch that was just waking up from a nap. Awesomely enough, she woke up to a pair of ninjas in her living room yelling "TRICK OR BEER!" She took it pretty well. She said she didn't think she had any but that she had some brownies. So we took some "special" brownies, and I don't usually eat stuff with pot in it, but I was in the mood for handouts of most any nature. At another apartment where no one answered the door, we observed a case of miller in the living room. We invited ourselves in and took to miller to the side of the house where we took three a piece. Then we dropped it and some of the rest broke. We left it outside the door and carried on to a house where, like most people, the host gave no beer. He wasn't a very pleasant person, so after he closed the door I began lifting one of his jack-o-lanterns to compensate for his lack of generosity. Of course while I was doing this he opened the door back up and said to me, "What the fuck are you thinking?!" Drunkenly, the solution to my predicament came to me quickly. I dropped the jack-o-lantern and said, "Rightfully sorry" in broken english. I continued to turn and sprint through his yard and throw my body through his fence, scattering fence debris around me. It was one of those waist high picket ones. Sweet. JW stood next to the flabbergasted victim for a second then ran and caught up with me. From the street we bowed and shouted, "Happy Halloween!" before sprinting to my brothers house for fear we were being hunted by people who won't get their security deposit unless they do some repairs. Heh. At Brians house we spilled beer everywhere trying to drink through our masks and shouted in russian accents till we realized what dicks we were being. On the way home we wandered into some house with loud music. A punk band was playing, and the house was full but the only people dancing were two alcohol drenched ninjas. It was an awesome night.

Finished the sidewalk wine today. It was a lot of wine and a lot of people think less of me for ingesting stuff I find on the ground, but they didn't think much of me to begin with, so I'm really not heart broken. I was getting a ride home on the front of a friends bike, and of course we crashed because his handle bars weren't wide enough to accommodate my ass. I landed face down on the pavement and that was pretty all right but then the tire ran over my inner thigh and it is chafed and bloody. The more I sober up, the more parts of my body hurt. Fortunately, as I laid in bed not long ago, I had one of those pukey burps that reminded me of pie, and it made me want pie. JW and I just went to shari's and ate a pie. It was fuckin' fine stuff. $5.95, any whole pie, for a limited time. Go to it.

So on the way tonight I found a big jug of wine next to the sidewalk. I put it under my jacket incase the transient that abandoned it was within hunting range. If I feel I am being baited for my supple, young meat then I try to be sly about handling the trap. Arriving at home, I revealed it and gave it an inspection. Carlo Rossi, AKA the cheap shit, gallon jug, about half empty with holes pounded in the lid. I managed to get the lid off and Kristine and I drank some. I didn't tell her that I found it in the gutter till after her first cup. It did taste funny, and she pointed out it might be urine. I stated that the thought had crossed my mind and she said I seemed pretty secure with it. I hinted at my history with body fluids, which made the wine seem appetizing by comparison, so we drank more of the dilluted tasting beverage. Still kickin'. See that god? Keep trying...

I work at shopko now. It's really big and unorganized and horrible. I've accidentally set the store alarm off two days in a row and I keep smashing things with the hand trucks. If I worked for a lot of companies I might care, but they give you very little incentive to avoid destruction.

All right kids, we raised the bar. Our boss at the record store in Idaho has a stepkid that lives around here, and he was having a cross country meet a short drive from our house. So I picked up JW and drive we did. We found him. His team color was purple. Heh. Ridiculous outfits. We dressed in trashy clothes so we could be the creepy dirty people that showed up to a high school cross country meet and savagely cheer on some random kid. We wondered what the best spot would be, and noticed a pond in the distance. The kid, Johnny, said that they had to run by the pond twice in the race and it didn't smell good. Obviously, this was the best place to cheer, because our voices would carry across the water and we'd be far from the crowd, thus standing out. So we walked down to the pond and stripped into our underwear. JW had boxers, I had long johns. We looked pretty sharp. The water was the color of split pea soup, so it was obviously very rich in nutrients and very stagnant. We grew up in the swamps, we've been dealt worse. We began wading in. It was squishy up to about the ankles at first then eventually with every step we were instantly engulfed halfway up our thighs into the pond scum. It created what felt like a vacuum and was somewhat difficult to escape, so we swam. We kept swimming till we were in the middle of the pond and we stood up. It was about waste deep and the bottom was solid enough to support us. We splashed our hand rythmically in the water and observed that if we put our hands more than about two inches under water we could no longer see them through the thickness of the water. A few high school girls were on the trail next to the pond not far away. One of them said, "I think that's a waste pond, guys." We dismissed this as the ditzy misconception of a lost, insecure girl in a world that forced her to struggle to feel important. We said nothing, just splashed, the same rythm. "How long have you guys been out there?" She asked. We broke silence. "A while." At that point it had been about 15 minutes. "Did someone dare you to go in?" A pause followed. "It was our idea." Still splashing. They left. Moments later a jeep with police markings arrived. "Probably for us."..."Yep." A man in uniform approached. Still we splashed. He spoke. "Did you know that's raw sewege you're in?" The splashing stopped. "No, we didn't." We stood still. The damage had been done so at this point escaping in a hurry would do no good. "Unless you want hepatitus a, b, and c, you should get out of there!" We began walking towards shore. "Wait, you guys do have clothes on, right?" "Yeah, we have our underwear on." Nudity was really the only thing that could make the situation worse. We reached shore and picked up our clothes. Johnny ran by. "Johnny Dunne, number one!" we screamed. We explained to the officer than we just wanted to cheer on our team and we thought the pond would be a good spot. It really didn't smell as bad as you'd expect thousands of gallons of human shit would smell. He escorted us through the cross country meet, as countless high school student eyes observed our shit covered bodies and said things like, "Oh my god..." or, "They didn't go in the pond, did they?" Or simply, "What the hell...?" We were led across the campus of this community college where the event was held and set aside by the security officer. He told us that all the toilets on campus drain directly into that pond without passing through a single filter. Eventually the fire truck showed up and sprayed us with a water cannon till there was little enough shit caked on our bodies that we could be released into society again. We bought rubbing alcohol on the way home and disinfected ourselves with a vengeance. Liar, you say? The proof is here.

JW and I went to Shari's, bought a whole pie for $5.95. Badass. Six dollar pies at 4 a.m. are exactly why I moved out of buttfuck nowhere. Then we drove like an hour to the ocean. It was rainy, windy, and nasty, but still enjoyable. I really like dead crabs and kelp so the Oregon Coast treats me pretty good.

Went to Albertsons at about 2 in the morning, as we often do. Found some corndogs bagged up near the deli, and though they were cold and dry they proved to be good substanance for our shop. On the way home, a lone grocery cart caught our eyes just blocks from the store. Jesse climbed in and I pushed him down the sidewalk as fast as I could. We were starting to get pretty wicked speed, then the sidewalk ended. The cart planted face down and jesse went reeling out. I flew forward, as my weight was akwardly balanced and the result was frontward momentum. My right nut suffered another form of abuse as it collided with the rear grocery cart wheel. JW and I lay curled up on the pavement in fetal positions. He suffered some painful scrapes, and my nut impact was bad enough I could feel it in my kidney. We collected our composure and our groceries then walked home. A cop car drove by, perhaps responding to a sound disturbance complaint involving metallic crashing and screaming. We didn't care. You probably don't either...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATT! Matt's Bday party. A good turnout. Several friends from Sandpoint visited, including one entity who shall remain nameless who felt inclined to bite people after he'd been drinking all day. He drew blood on one person, and bit a stranger or two. After breaking some bottles in the street, wrecking a glass in the house (one of my favorite glasses...), puking on the carpet, fucking up most of the window blinds we own, and tipping over a chair that landed on JW's cd rack thus bending it out of shape, he was dragged to a place where he would be slightly more pleasant. Matt's room, in the back of the house. He was violated in a number of ways. Observe.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRIAN! My brother's birthday. Showed him "Murphy and Oswaldt 2: Laundry Day." A fine film created the night before, hopefully available on the site soon. If I wasn't so lazy.