Went to Portland for a show. It finished up around Midnight. Drove several hours Northeast into Washington for a wedding reception where various old friends assured us they would "be up partying all night." Lies. The directions we had trailed off towards the end with "Follow signs to wedding." One sign. That was all we saw on this old logging road in butt-fuck-nowhere. It read, "WEDDING" followed by an arrow and pointed into a hole in the treeline, which brought us into the middle of a clear cut forest. No roads anymore. Just drove between treestumps until the rocks underneath the car got too big, then turned around and drove between other treestumps. The wedding was supposed to be on a lake, so we found a lake and drove along the beach for a while. Nothing. RVs. Nobody we know owns RVs, but we decided it warranted further investigation, as there was nothing else in sight. By now it's well after 4 in the morning. We prowled around the motor homes and recognized a friend's car. We went through the cooler and found beer with the names of the bride and groom on it. We drank the beer and lit a barbeque we found to stay warm; it was only 37 degrees out and we didn't bring jackets. Ran out of beer. Decided it was time to wake up our friends in the RVs and find more beer. First RV, went through fridge until everybody woke up. Through the darkness they asked what we were looking for. "Beer," I said. They steered us away. They turned out to be strangers. Barged into the other RV. Same story. They were angry and said the party happened up the hill. Went outside, walked around until we found a hill. We went up it and found everybody passed out. The campfire had gone out, so we found some logs in the woods and got it going again. I lost my car key. We retraced our steps over a quarter of a mile between the car and the fire looking for my key with only a cell phone display for light. No luck. We found the kegs and poured more beer and waited for day to break so we could find my key easier. JW noticed it under my chair right by the fire. Easy enough. Now it's passed six and when we tromp through the woods to the keg for refills and then back, the bride's father is waiting by the campfire for us, up and dressed. He asked a couple of innocent questions to determine we were the ones that woke up his entire extended family. He said we were "Lucky there wasn't bloodshed." He kept talking. Every other sentence seemed to include the term "bloodshed." As the only people awake were strangers that weren't remotely shy about wanting to kill us, we left. We found the beer late enough that we were still more sober than we'd have liked, so we drove to Seattle and got more beer at about 8:30 in the morning to finish what we'd started. Crashed on Kelly Fuckin' Akers' couch. Slept until about 3 in the afternoon. Drove home. Another weekend said and done.

I've had a disposable camera in my cargo pocket for about a week now, and I keep meaning to take it out, but I know that as soon as I do a priceless memory will come along. Today had so much potential! As I walked to get some food on my lunch break, I noticed a fat, homeless-looking man laying in a bike path, writhing like an infant and depantsed, so I could actually see his entire, unappetizing ass. I walked passed and turned around a few feet later as I got my camera out. I was debating what angle to take a picture from when someone else approached me and asked if I had a cell phone. I pointed out that I don't carry a cell phone on account of I hate them and he said something about how we needed to call 911 because the homeless guy needed help.
"Yeah, I thought he looked like he needed help. That's why I turned around." I responded as I casually slid the camera back into my pocket, mentally kicking myself.
Eventually I got suckered into calling 911 from a nearby payphone and told the operator that a homeless guy had OD'd on something half naked in the bike path about 10 feet from a busy street. When I got back, some lady was helping him get his pants on and it was apparent that the guy had managed to piss everywhere. Disgusting. He was trying to play it off like he got hit by a car and that all he needed was a cup of coffee, his mumblings difficult to distinguish between his obvious verbal ineptitude and beard. When the police showed up they addressed him by first name, and he requested to be taken in by someone who the cops said wasn't on shift yet, reinforcing my initial impression that he was, in fact, a junkie loser and was not worthy of compassion. I guess the moral of the story is this: Next time you see a middle aged hippie half dressed at noon squirming in a puddle of their own urine, take a picture and leave. Don't get involved. It will only further sour the already bitter taste of humanity permanently ingrained in your pallet.

Though this lesson consumed a half hour of my valuable life, I still managed to get take out food from two separate restaurants and eat it all before I was due back on the clock. By the time walking had been completed, it wound up being two meals in about twenty minutes, on foot. Which should impress you. Yeah, it does. Yes.

Yesterday I bought some tea that claimed it was "good for bile and liver" but after I drank it I got a stomach ache. After it did not go away, I went to the store and bought some beer. I drank it and instantly felt better. Go science.

Today my house smelled really bad, and I wanted to open the window and air it out, but I was afraid I might hear the neighbor's children playing so I stuck it out until nightfall.

Today I found some heroin on the floor at work. It was contained in an open plastic cap of some sort with torn up, black plastic wrapped haphazardly over the opening. It seems like if heroin was important enough to you'd carry it around with you, you'd at least hold on to it a little tighter. Like, in an empty Altoids tin or something. Whatever.



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