school dais, pt. 2

conversation at work

mark: watcha reading?
me: some article makin fun of my friends. seems to be a general theme here.
mark: what exactly do your friends do?
me: my friends run a wide gamut of occupations, from kiling iraqis to fronting noisepunk bands
mark: i like your style

every time ken gets drunk, he tells me I should go into politics, and I'd be really good at politics and he wants to see me as the next great outsider politician. I'm really enjoying my current job. I tutor columbia college students in math and writing. I never thought I'd take after my mother, and not my father. The warning signs were all there, that I'd ruin myself with law. Genetics play really odd tricks on you sometines.

a student came in the other day, and he didn't have any work, so I helped him edit a love letter. Her name was Jacinda and her parents didn't want her to see him because he was older and black. Ulysses. The letter turned out well. He'll get laid this weekend and later on, she'll surely break his heart.

I wrote a second journal for my yoga class:

Dear friends, friends-of-friends, colleagues and family, as you know I've been taking yoga classes. Adding another element to my already overburdoned schedule will require patience on both our parts. With that in mind, I have one request for you: Please stop asking if I can suck my own cock yet.

As someone who has trouble holding downward-facing dog, I'm relatively sure that this will not happen. So stop getting my hopes up. It has recently come to my attention that when you are asking this question, you're making allusions to some Will Ferrell sketch. I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed.

There is good news. Yoga is beginning to bolster my other exercises where, a few weeks ago, it made me too sore to lift my arms. This is good, as Saturday, September 24th, I turned 23. Old men at punk rock shows are teasing me about joining their ilk. "Yes. I do realize that the good thing about high school girls is they stay the same age." "No. I don't want people to start calling me Grampa Rat."

At 18, I didn't know how these 23-year old motherfuckers weren't out of Columbia yet.
Yet, here I am.
Hopefully, this is my last semester, and I need my yoga training to be more than just a preservative. I want to be better than the strong man I was a year ago, better than the lean man I was two ears ago, and never again the fat bulimic I was at 20.

18 short character studies

Her head is small and looks like the head of a child athlete, a gymnast or a figure skater. A t-shirt, a green ADIDAS windbreaker hint at suburban life in this ridiculously overstylized urban setting. She wears her hair in a ponytail; you wonder what depravities she knows that belie her frame.

She is a sheepdog in pink, with pink under her eyes when she pulls her hair back.

He has tattoos of fashionable, Sailor Jerry-style birds swooping across his wrists. What kind of man, you ask yourself, has pictures of birds on his arms. Even fashionable birds. Especially fashionable birds. He has Typewriter print on hios bicep. Rise Above. You've only seen your own tattoos through silver gelatin and reflective glass. You wonder if he draws inspiration from his. It's probably a stupid suggestion.

She is Hispanic, and will not speak unless spoken to.

The room is cold and she wears shorts. She folds her right knee in her arm and brushes her hair over it. Her hair is thick and unmanageable. You forget that she is Asian, you wil never see her face.

She is rail thin with indents on either side of her spine on her lower back. She chews on pens and has too many people. She thinks of herself as a nerd; it is a crutch and an excuse, left over from high school. She is uncomfortable in social situations, and walks as if everything will damage her. She reminds you of your sister at 13, and you wince at the thought that she is attractive. You shudder as you add ...to older men. Her hair was bleached badly, into varying shades of light brown. She's let it grown out but is afraid to cut it down, and not have long hair. 'Don't Panic' has been neatly written on the side of her right sneaker. You nod as she walks past. Her nervousness makes you nervous. She has a nice belt.

He looks like someone you would call Moose, like that guy from Archie. Big, a jock's sense of fashion. Big cheeks and freckles. He bites his nails at the same time as you. He has a speech impediment and asks questions as soon as he feels confused without waiting for context. It gives you the impression that he's slower than he actually is.

He's black and short, with beady eyes and braces. He has a thermal shirt under a green Polo. The color of his tattoos stand out surprisingly well, but they look unfinished. You are jealous of his arms. They are well defined. Yours are not.

She is not fat but has a little pouch under her chin that she will never be able to get rid of. Her dress is brown and grey in little corduroy zigzags. It doesn't look like a dress and matches her toenails well. They are copper the way Crayola sees copper and you saw copper as a child. Purple barettes hold her hair in tiny pigtails. She has puffy cheeks and an overbite, and when she bites her lip, it gets your dick hard.

She wears a tiedyed shirt that doesn't match her makeup. A skull crossing a river under a full moon. The Grateful Dead. The moon is also a skull. It is a little too big for her. She has a fine-cut Punky Brewster face with dark freckles and 420 eyes. You wonder if the shirt came off some boy's floor in a mad dash this morning.

He is tall, with buzzed hair. He wears a cool t-shirt of a hardcore band you've never heard but imagine to be shit. His tattoos are vibrant and indistinguishable, half obscured by his sleeves. There are vines, green as green can be, a skull, something red and something blue. He breaks character with an orange Livestrong bracelet. You don't know what orange stands for, or why everybody is wearing them. You hate yourself that much more for not looking more like him in a room full of beautiful women.

Her eyes are sunk deep and you fearshe's anorexic. She looks like a skeleton. Looking like a skeleton makes her look older than her years. She has shoulder-length hair with excellent highlights. She has fat lips and big teeth. Looking at her makes you feel guilty about the way that you look at women.

She is a semigoth gypsy with bits of orange in her hair, cut herself into some sort of trendy shag a million different lengths. She has fat lips and a pugnose, she's pale the way people equate with sickness. She looks like Fairuza Balk with the curvesa ironedout. She'd be incredibly ugly if she wasn't so beautiful. She knows exactly what to accentuate, and how to make the rest work. She chews gum and rolls her eyes when she's focused. She is the type of girl you have trouble talking to.

She would look better naked than anyone else in the room, than anyone you've seen all day even, but she's hidden under her school's hoodie, and nondescript jeans. She's blonde and not too thin. Her hand rests on her forehead so you don't realize that she has the right kind of eyes and really white teeth. She looks bored and you wonder whether she realizes how much more beautiful she is than just another short girl with big tits.

She has curly hair. She looks like the giggly cousin of every girl you've ever dated. She likes romantic comedies, snack food, and bands you you don't respect.

He is fat. Fatter than you. This is important to you. He's bigger than you but wears it better. His shirt is Tupac's face at 5X scale. He hyas a diamond earring and doesn't say much. You respect him without warrant or qualifiers.

He is skinny and wears black velcro shoes. His face is pointed. He was created with all lines converging at a single vanishing point somewhere on the floor. He's olive-complected with ace scarsand small emeralds in his eyes. He resembles a weasel. A caricature of a weasel with too-big lips. None of his clothes carry brandings or insignias. He has two silver rings on one hand. He does not talk, possibly because he has noibody to talk to. He is cold, tired, and closed in on himself. He reminds you of people from gradeschool, whose names you've forgotten.

Youy are hairy and dark and big. There's only one other fat guy in the room and he wears it better than you. You wish you were as slick as a black man. You're leaning back, and constatly trying to recalibrate your posture. You're wearing a shirt you stole from your father, with short sleeves that show off the scars on your right arm. You are cold and making a list.

Dear Riot Fest 2005,

You know that Minutemen song where Mike Watt goes like, "Punk rock saved my life"? Fuck yeah, Man. It's the same way right fuckin here. When I was younger I was aimless, adrift in a sea of gangster rap and radio metal. Then along came punk. It had always been there but it took thirteen long years for it to find its way to me. Without it, I'd surely be dead now.

Sure, I wasn't nothin better with it than I was before, just a vandal scumbag takin money from my parents tryin to cum on things but I had FOCUS. I truly believe in the transformative powers of punk rock. I am glad that your festival is bringing back bands like the Dead Kennedys and the Germs. Punk is a young man's game and most of the kids have never been exposed to bands like this in a live setting because either their singers went and overdosed a couple decades ago or are embroiled in contract disputes with the rest of their bandmates or because they're irrelevent dinosaurs who haven't written a song since Reagan left office.

None of that shit'll matter, though, once that guy from ER comes out onstage to the opening chords of "Lexicon Devil". Media blitz!

But I got to thinking. The Clash is probably my favorite band of all time. You can tell because I have that killer back patch on my army jacket. With Joe Strummer passed away, it looks like I may never get to see them live. That's just about more than I can bear, not just because of my loss but for all the little punks out there who don't know what they're missing. Well you know as well as I do that the only thing that seperates punk from all the other shit out there is the fierce DIY spirit that bands a bunch of nothingshits into a true force. I will take the bull by the horns, and offer hear and now to front the Clash MYSELF at your concert in November.

Don't worry, I know all the songs on "Combat Rock" and a good third of "Sandanista" and I'm free to practice every Wednesday night, so you give Mick and Paul a call and I'm ready. Oi! Motherfucker. 77 Style, yeah!

Sincerely,
Eric Strom

P.S. If the Clash have prior obligations I would also be willing to front GG Allin and the Murder Junkies, Jabbers, or AIDS Brigade.

school dais

1. Analogies my Teachers disapprove of

"I had trouble reading the book, the writing was dryer than asexual pussy."

2. Yoga Journal

When I was seven years old, I took gymnastics. I continued to gymnast up until shortly after the first time I heard the word 'faggot'. I would like to say that these two facts are unrelated. I have not participated in regularly in anything athletic since with the exception of a single game of Ultimate Frisbee that spanned my entire highschool carreer. I'm sure that somewhere, in a school on the near West Side, that game continues today.

What I know about yoga, I learned from exgirlfriends and television. From one I learned the positive aspects and from another the negative. The positions that we have undertaken are simultaneously the most and least natural things I've ever done with my body voluntarily. Some of the positions are known to cause the muscles to relax, enabling air and blood to flow more easily through the many passages and causeways of the body. Thus, eventually, you fart. The Upanishads gloss over this but I know it is true. I know it is true because TV tells me so, and the image of spandexed xrackers comically passing gas is forever etched into my brain. Because of this, I entered the room slowly, silently pleading with God.

"Please. Don't let me be the first."

Once again, a perpetually winking God looked down upon me and replied, in a voice that rattled the trees and caused children to stir, "No Dice."

At least half of the room can attest to my broken pact with Our Lord.

This is how I imagine the tenure of my yoga carreer will play out. A series of minor embarassments. This will not deter me. There is another problem, that of my less-than-stellar memory. I look at a clock. I've got an hour to kill. Yoga time. I approximate to the best of my abilities the structure of a pretzel: heels togethor, hands behind my knees and...nothing. No pain, no fart rumble under my ribcage. This is not what we did in class! I await further instruction.

'Gleaned' is the most disgusting word in the English language and thus entirely appropriate. I have gleaned one thing from my yoga experience this far: avoid the veggie burgers at Chicago Carryout.

3. Fall Fashion

So there was this jogger girl running around in cotton jogger shorts that said 'ARUBA' on the back, nd on each ass cheek there was an inky handprint in white. Bad taste, Jogger Girl! They haven't even found the body yet.

wear gloves, mittenfilter, et cetera

"Hundreds of Hours of Ball Draining!"

don't ever use a public computer

I'm on one right now and I'm coming down with a nasty nose cold
the guy next to me keeps alternating between yahoo games and onionbooty.com
I just looked over and saw a girl take a wineglass up her ass
i'm not sure what type of girl
(taking a wineglass up her ass)
is my type of girl taking a wineglass up her ass
but this is not the one

the girl next to me is eating Jewel fried chicken and playing Slingo
she is forgiven though, because I can hear Hendrix coming from her ear phones

The guy has graduated to milflessons.com
he is talking to the screen
he brings up the tiny calculator function when he gets suspicious
it doesn't even cover one scary fake tit
so . many . veins

why is it always those rare times when I feel actually, grimy dirty
that I need to take an urgent piss?
a ten yard dash with no room for soap between my hands and penis

we walk in the footsteps of those who immediately before us
their musk still hangs in the air
we are all sick fucks
beware

i'm gonna go bleach out my eyes

literary criticism re: why I was late for school today

[courtesy of Mister Fuckhead]

Q: And you were late because?

Q: What train stop was this?

Q: What kind of knife is it?

Q: Will you still love the spoons in your kitchen just as much?

Q: Is it a PC loophole to refer to women as chicks in this context?

----
Response

1a. Because the train was late enough where i could have a long-ass fuckin conversation. 1b. i was enthralled by said conversation and dragged my feet. It could probably be called 'while i was late for school this morning'

2. the Western stop on the 54/Cermak line

3. I didn't actually havve my knife. That was dranma adding bullshit. When I do carry one it's usually a ridiculously large boyscout knife. the handle is a compass and can be removed so you can keep your stash in it

4. I have no love or the spoons in my kitchen, they were all stolen from restaurants when I lived at my first apartment or aren't mine

5. No. I'm not pc, nor do I aspire to be. I use outdated slang. Women often end up as 'chicks'. Men end up as 'dudes'. Hypothetical people and mixed groups are 'cats'. I am slightly embarassed and slightly proud of this fact because I am, overall, 'wack.'

Fun fact: I was unaware that anybody called syringes a 'rail', because, as we all know, a rail is a long-ass line of blow

thanks for asking

Why I was Late For School Today

"Do you got a rail?" He was already holding a lighter under the brown spoon. For some reason I was surprised that it looked just like the spoons in my kitchen.
"Naw."
"Mine's broke."
"You can still use it. You just gotta cut it open and push the plunger back in. I helped a guy do that in prison once. Hey Kid, you got a knife."
Me. "No, sorry." I dont give my knife to people cooking heroin on CTA platforms.
"Johnny Cash, man. Fuck yeah," the White guy said.
If I stopped wearing t-shirts, I'd stop meeting people. The other guy, whom he'd just met. Was calmly trying to bite off the plastic end. The first guy was tall, with light blue eyes and longish patches of hair spread out on his neck and chin. He was Boston Irish, an old cowpunk. We talked about Steve Goodman and the Clash, Black Flag and David Allan Coe.
"He's racist but he's funny. You ever hear 'My Girlfriend Fucked a Nigger'?"
"Nope."
"Awful song, real good though."
His tattoos were all done in the 70s, wizards and skulls mostly. "This one here is my first wife."
On his forearm was a naked chick, holding a porcelain mask. Her face was a red-eyed banshee of a skull. "When I married her, she still had the mask on."
"Probly good you got out then."
"Yeah, she was no good. Great titties though."
He swiped his hand across his nose and threw a handful of snot on the tracks. "This one's me." It was a prison tattoo, a grinning jester in two colors.
The other dude was focused. People were passing by and each one made a face. A Latino guy smiled, to me; a businesswoman rolled her eyes; an older black lady shook her head. He had big veins. He found one just by clenching a fist. He stuck himself just above a yellow LIVESTRONG bracelet. I chuckled. He threw his rig, I think it's called a rig, onto the tracks, pocketing the spoon and laid back on the bench. We woke him when the train rolled up, and rode off.

letters to the editor, pt. 2

1. Dear NOPD

I heard that you were stopping all search and rescue efforts, in order to stop crime. Give it up. Your desperate acts do nothing to bolster confidence. You've already relinquished control to the federales. You're out of your league.
Besides, let the looters fucking loot. Stop shooting poor people. If they're still around, it's cause they don't have anywhere else to go. After about Day Two I imagine it's not so much fun wading around in a swamp. The food will go bad. Let them have it. If they've stolen a gun, they probably need it. You were practically giving them away to people who had more than fifty bucks to spend a few weeks ago.1 As for the rest? Consumer electronics, creature comforts, fashionable clothes...give them up. Most of the stores are destroyed, at least a little, right? Most legitimate businesses have insurance policies, their losses will be harsh but manageable. Those that don't, they'll have bigger problems. You can't keep an unattended store stocked for three months anyway. Not enough of you are honest. Admit it.
Your town is going to look like Mad Max, or Waterworld, for a while but let's face it, parts of it already did. Your focus should be getting the people who're left someplace out of harms way, where they can't squat up in other people's homes and offices, and keeping as many of them alive as possible.

It's just a shame that your new homeless are getting better treatment in Houston than the homeless people already there.

sincerely
Eric lab Rat, New Orleans enthusiast, fan of jazz, zydeco, voudun and titties

2. Dear Israelis,

I know, it sucks losing your home. Now you know how the fucking Palestinians felt in '67. It wasn't your land to take, even if England and the fucking UN handed it to you on a silver platter. It was people's homes. People who're alive today. Give up your stringent notions of what Israel is. It's a half century old.
There are no maps in the Talmud. Your borders were created as needed, bordered by Jordan, Egypt, Syria, et cetera. You have your Israel, and no one can take it from you, but the Palestinans need a Palestine and since all the other countries are taken maybe they can have some of the land they've been living on for generations. And don't be fucking bitter about it, or we'll never get our hundred years of peace.

best wishes
Eric lab Rat, non-Hollywood Kabbalist, Reformed Jew

3. Dear Eric lab Rat

Shut the fuck up. You don't know what you're talking about. Shut your damn gob so we can let you keep pretending you're fucking smart

Now!
Your friends and family, the handful of people that read your blog

4. Dear Dad,

I wish I had a president I could hold in high regard right now. Someone who inspired something, anything other than sheer contempt. Every time I hear him speak, I feel worse than I had prior. I tried to stop it, and failed. When did the office lose its integrity and mystique? Was it Clinton, Bush, or Lyndon Johnson? Was it earlier than that even? I always thought that R. Milhouse Nixon was a bogeyman that Hunter Thomnpson and Garry Trudeau created to scare children. I was not adequately prepared for this.

don't respond to this, I just needed to say it,
Eric Strom, a sometimes scared little boy

my worst blog yet (and by definition blogs are shit). boring shit like setlists and surveys

According to Myspace (ugh), I have blogged 201 times over the last fourteen months. I have used this forum to work out just about every piece of fiction and poetry I've made in that time, not to mention skits, essays, thoughts, and little offensive one liners. Thank you to those of you that take the time to read it or have in the past. That some of you have read all the way through and given comments when I've needed them. I invite your further comments and criticism.

Anyway, I've decided to let myself go for number 202. I'm doing a radio show now, Monday nights (Tuesday mornings from 2 - 6 AM) on WLUW and just this week I had the best show in memory. The following is just the setlist from that night and a wacky online survey that got passed to me when I was bored. I want to keep them for myself but you can stop reading now.

[WARMING UP]
tom jones w portishead - motherless child
mr. quark - requiem for mr. quark
defacto - coaxial

[ALL AROUND THE WORLD HEAVY FUNK SET]
cidhino & doca - cidade de deus (from Rio Baile Funk: Favela Booty Beats) [BRAZIL]
konono no. 1 - libula mibunda [CONGO/ANGOLA]
red hot chili peppers - hollywood [HOLLYWOOD]
amon tobin - rosie [ENGLAND]

[A TRIBUTE TO RANDY "BISCUIT" TURNER, R.I.P., ALL BIG BOYS SET]
big boys - apolitical
big boys -hollywood swingers (Kool & the Gang cover)
big boys prison

i am kloot - coincidence
flamin groovies - blues from phyllis
deerhoof - our angel's lulu

[HOT FEMALE VOCALS SET]
patsy cline - three cigarettes in an ashtray
ladytron - evil
astrud gilberto - tristeza

[TECHNO SET]
mr. scruff - chicken in a box [BREAKBEAT]
pendulum - fasten your seatbeltd [DRUMNBASS]


eels - jelly dancers (from Dimension Mix: the Music of Bruce Haack and Esther Nelson)
the gris gris - necessary seperation
my life with the thrill kill kult - martini built for two

[TIGHT HORN SECTION SET]
youngblood brass band - brooklyn
drums and tuba - igor rosse
tom waits - step right up

[MORE FUNKINESS]
dwight trible & the life force trio - waves of infinite harmony
medeski martin & wood - i wanna ride you
dele sosimi - turbulent times (from ASAP: Afrobeat Sudan Aid Project)

[THE PLAY IT FUCKING LOUD SET]
nick cave & the bad seeds - get ready for love
sepultera - policia
riistetyt - elintilla

[THE ALL AMERICAN WEIRDNESS SET]
ween - freedom of 76
frank zappa - magdalena
13th floor elevators - you're gonna miss me

[BEST SET OF THE NIGHT]
public image limited - rise
prefuse 73/the books - pagina siete
john prine w iris dement - lets invite them over

[CHICAGO PUNK SET]
mushuganas - breaking tradition (from Achtung! Chicago Drei)
effigies - body bag
choke jackers - zombies make perfect lovers (from Hyde Five)

rasputina - stumpside
eric burdon animals - paint it black
m.i.a/diplo - china girl
gabby lala - elf

[ROCKNROLL SET]
ram jam - black betty
bloody hollies - dirty water
mission of burma - that's when i reach for my revolver

(I got pissed at myself instantly for playing "...revolver". It's a great fucking song but just like the Dead Boy's "Sonic Reducer" and Fugazi's "Waiting Room", after meeting up with people at Delilah's for two weeks, I just can't stand it anymore. The bands have other fucking songs, people)

hoppy kamiyama - fantasm b (from Japanese Independent Music)
manu chao - desperacidos

john zorn leviathan
tub ring habitat
lullaby of the leaves

colonel claypool's bucket of bernie brains - elephant giant

---
a survey about something worthless

1. Have you ever been drunk?
are you daft?

2. How old were you the first time you got drunk?
13 years old. it was either King Cobra in the alleys around Whitney Young HS or Glenfidditch from Joanna Bowersmith's mom's liquor cabinet

3. Have you ever gotten/given digits while intoxicated?
if by digits you mean fingers, then yes, things have gone in places where maybe they shouldn't have. if by digits you mean telephone numbers, then this is a boring question

4. Have you ever 'drunk dialed'?
yes, to expound the truth to those who didn't ask for it and endear companionship from those who didn't offer.

5. Have you ever been drunk in front of family members?
yes. it's damn near impossible to get drunk around my parents though, like i try and try but my brain won't switch over to 'no, it's okay that you do this now mode'

6. Have you ever had to cover up the fact that you were drunk?
in high school, and then again in college

7. Have you ever been arrested for any alcohol related crime?
there's a diference between detained, questioned, and arrested right? generally, if I'm drinking, I'm an asshole to cops. for some reason they respect that in Chicago.

8. Have you ever hooked-up with someone while drunk?
Hi, Sarah

9. Ever forgot their name?
No, that was her

10. When was the last time you were drunk?
I can't even fuckin remember, it takes too much these days. I think it was the time I drank a whole sixpack of Sparks a month ago with Tania and Erik and kept inventing dance moves ("Everybody do the 'Sand Crab'"!)

11. Have you ever been on a drunken binge?
back when Charles and Dan would throw weeklong parties, the tenure of my 6 month lease at the flophouse in Andersonvile

12. Do you need alcohol to have a good time?
No, but if I'm really looking to get the shit kicked out of me it's a good starting point

13. What kind of alcohol gets you the most intoxicated?
that one shot of Jager when I've been drinking other stuff all night does bad things to me

14. Favorite liquor:
whiskey

15. Favorite beer:
Delirium is overrated but it has pink elephants on the bottle which no one can deny
Honeybrown is my favorite keg beer because it's as cheap as Budweiser but doesn't taste like beaver piss.

16. Have you ever woken up after a night of drinking and found out that you are STILL drunk?
YES but for a better story, I would replace drunk with HIGH. One time I got to Dan Lieber's parents' house really late during a party and everyone was all trashed on the couch watching Fantasia synched up with Aenima (it will blow your mind, sucka) and holds out this disgusting green tub:

"Eric, we made ganja butter but we there's no bread to make toast with"
Me: "There's no popcorn?"
Charles: [slaps his head really slowly]

so I melt the thing over a bag of popcorn and eat it all by myself. I go to sleep normal and wake up higher than I've eer been in my life

17. Have you ever swam drunk?
alas, only once this summer. it used to be more often but the lake gave me ear cooties the last time I gave it a try

18. What kind of a drunk are you?
I used to be naked guy drunk, now I'm some sardonic bastard who dances a lot and talks about how much he misses his friends that he doesn't see.

19. Is alcohol like "truth serum" to you?
Fuck you. Truth is beauty, etc. Alcohol is not

20. Favorite drinking partner:
Ramon. We always have really good luck when we're drinking together, and he's a fucking blast. Ken because he repeats himself over and over again.

21. Favorite bar:
Cal's. Cheap bands, used to have cheap beer. Big glaring hole-in-the-wall in the middle of the financial district

22. Have you ever completely blacked out?
remember the time I jumped off that building? Remember that time I took a shit on the floor? remember that time I kicked Keoki's laptop shut and tred to smash Nell's toy mutant? I don't.

23. Have you ever puked from drinking?
I'm a Vomit Ninja. Most people don't know that I used to puke a lot when I drank. I'm very good at getting to a drain and not splattering.

24. Have you ever had the 'crying drunks'?
I have so many scars from that summer when drinking just got me depressed as shit

25. Can you still do physical activity while intoxicated?
Swimming, remember? "Hook-ups", remember? Get your head straight, jerk.

26. Have you ever gotten into a drunken fight?
I've had a puny emo dude suckerpunch me and stomp my ass bloody once after I egged him on for two hours and got to the point where I could barely walk. and I played that game with Kyle, Nate and Autumn where we punched each other in the forehead back and forth until someone gave up. Tom Yates used to want to wrestle a bunch too when he got drunk and I'd usually end up nearly passing out in a choke hold cuz I was too proud to tap out

27. Who is the most annoying drunk that you know?
Jason Santillan, but in a good way. He's very intense in the "I love you, everyone", or "what the fuck, i'm gonna punch thingsand talk like there's a demon in my head now." He's also very reminiscent of the Good Ol Days, even when they're happening right now. This girl Sosa used to go screaming batshit and get into drama whenever she got drunk. I like Sober Sarah more than Drunk Sarah and I like how my friend Aaron talks about stabbing people a lot when he's drunk.

28. Who is the most flirtatious drunk?
I've seen Cowboy cockblock himself, he gets so forward

29. Do you have a drunken nickname?
I'm motherfucking Lab Rat, isn't that fucking enough?

30. Have you received a 'booty call'?
Indeed. Thanks.

31. Funniest drunken scene in a movie:
Mac and Me. All of it. And Michael Jackson's Moonwalker. I don't think there's so much as a single beer in either one of them but they're the funniest shit you'll ever see. I don't think I've ever watched them sober

32. Favorite song(s) about drinking:
"Are You Drinkin With Me, Jesus?" by Mojo Nixon

33. Have you ever woke up next to someone you didn't know?
In a Biblical sense, yes.

34. Have you ever been hit on by someone way older than you?
Tania's Mom. Former teachers. Leather boys and drag queens.

35. What's the worst 'buzz kill'?
When Tania got mugged and I had to run out and help her talk to the poilice that ended my party pretty quickly. Playing nice and holding an exgirlfriend's hair back while she pukes in your toilet will make your balls shrink and make you hate the world.

36. Have you ever dated a bartender or bouncer or cocktail waitress?
yes, I've yet to reap a single benefit. Outside of the sex. Which doesn't count. Cuz it's not like it's bartender-sex. Y'know, like gymnast-sex or psychopath-sex, it's just sex. Right?

37. Do you ever say to yourself, "Dang, I need a drink"?
"i'd never say dang." Pretty Pete said this. I concur.

38. Do strangers ever buy you drinks?
When I had a mohawk it happened all the time, it was like a fuckin key to the city. Now it's just leather boys and drag queens

39. Have you ever drank too much on a date?
i've ended relationships that way

40. Is there anything that you refuse to drink?
all budwiser products. refuse is a harsh term though. more like 'strongly object to purchasing or consuming'.

41. Have you ever been drunk on a plane?
not for lack of trying

42. Have you ever gotten drunk during the day?
ah summer. ah high school. ah parties that stretch weekends. how i love you so

43. Have you ever had to run from the cops and leave the beer behind?
fuck no. I either bolt with it or they pry it from my cold, sad hands.

44. What's your favorite drinking game?
I like playing improv games when I'm drunk because I'm a theatre dork. Also drawing games lie "Destructo" or "Pictionary". "Kings" and "Truth or Dare" have been nice to me, though

45. Have you ever injured yourself while drunk?
Frequently. Less so than Pinky or Devon, but I've woken up with my fair share of scars, bruises and bones bent backwards

46. What's the most destructive thing that has happened while you were drunk?
I kicked through a skylight when I jumped off that roof on mushrooms and wine (shortly after I kicked my friend Liz in the face). I kicked the sideview mirror off a BMW wearing nothing but a pair of combat boots once. Me and Kyle smashed musical instruments over each other's heads one night.
Johnny Hap had a 'smash this house' party when he was evicted and his place was slated for demolishing, but it was allowed then.

Sometimes, I've been rather CONstructive, too godammit, building elaborate Rube Goldberg wheight-and-pulley devices and art. That has to count for something.

47. Ever been drunk at a concert?
only once at a Classical Music type of thing

48. Is this survey getting too long?
49. Are you ready for the last question?

Har.

50. Why do you drink?

It's fun, even though it's nothing more than a poison. It brings out the parts of me that I enjoy, when I'm in control of it.The outgoing, bolsterous parts. Also, I go to a lot of parties and shows. When I'm in a drunken atmosphere, I like to flow with it. I can't smoke pot anymore because I just don't enjoy it, and I can never find acid, which I think is a truly beautiful, enlightening drug. I've had many, many wonderful times drinking and grew to know most of the people I love with it. My parents have thought I have a problem and hinted at it for years now. I used to, in fact. When I was taking Diet Pills, I completely lost track of my personal callibration. My tolerance was way off and I didn't know it. I got my ass kicked by a 24 year old emo dork and took a shit on my own floor. The problem was, I never drank to forget. I never drank just to drink. Nonetheless, I was drinking a lot, even though it was always with other drinkers. To this day I'll only drink by myself because I want to taste something I enjoy tasting (Hence, no Budweiser).

The few parts of me that I really enjoy, and appreciate, may have lain dormant and undiscovered if not for alcohol. So I drink.

You're an idiot for reading this.