PISS OFF

Some bitch neighbor (not Timothy—who has not hit me up for a free beer in over a week—“Thank you, Tim”, by the way: I am NOT drinking for two), came pounding on my door.

“Why do you flush the toilet so much?”

Apparently she can hear that toilet flush through the wall and it disturbs her fucking concentration.

“I flush so much because I piss so much. Now fuck off and get outta my face before I am tempted to fucking choke you to death. But for your benefit, from now on I will piss in the fucking sink. Because I RESPECT MY FUCKING NEIGHBORS ”

She ran away.

Screaming.

Fucking Coward.

Pretty sure there will be repercussions for my rude behavior and I will be forced to pay for my sins.

Guess how many fucks I give.

No Warning Sign

Well, I just awoke from my coma.

Thought I was good to go.

But had to go:

Take a Piss.

Did that. 

Mission accomplished.

And then while trying to ‘navigate’ to my computer chair, fell flat on my ass, busting my head on something unforgiving while on my downward journey.

And it fucking HURT.

(I survived)

“Watch out for that gravity storm! It don’t give no warning sign.”

Hotel California. Uh, I mean Hotel Indigo: LaSheeka

One night she got pissed off (she had a hair-trigger—I loved her for that)

“Why don’t you just get a fucking job?!”

(Screamed at some pan-handler at Hotel Indigo late one night.)

I just walked away, but said to her, “Baby, calm down.”

She replied, “These idiots just piss me off.”

Had to concur.

LaSheeka and I worked Night Shift at Hotel Indigo for probably at least a year.

We became instant ‘Fast Friends.”

Instant Karma.

We ‘understood’ one another and neither one of us ever put up with bullshit.

Because neither one of us gave a fuck.

We just did our respective jobs.

And LaSheeka was never hesitant to tell a drunken refugee “Guest” from Beale Street that he/she was full of shit and needed to just go the fuck to bed. And STFU!

We spent many long nights swapping tales.

I told my stories.

She told hers.

We BONDED.

I MISS HER.

Titty Bars and the YMCA–San Diego

Back in the day (1986-7) when I was on the USS Callaghan DDG 994 and had more than a day of liberty (and before I had a vehicle)

I would ride the bus to downtown San Dog and hang out in the titty bars.

There was an old YMCA close by–The kind of YMCA that still provided rooms for miscreants – mostly sailors, drunks, homeless, and gay folks.

When I had gotten too drunk in the titty bar and did not want to attempt to make it back to my rack on the Callaghan, I would crash at the Y.

I did NOT care that most of the ‘clientele’ were gay. I just wanted a place to crash. And I did.

Loved that YMCA. It was like something out of a more kinder past.

Nostalgia.

 

Oh Why Not?!

I can always delete it later.

Very, very rough draft (of something I am working on)
Actually, this is just a test, a test-of– Of The Emergency Broadcast System… I’ll get back to you.
battling hotel maids and chewing on roll-aids…
Soon.
Perhaps.
Maybe.
Possibly.
There must be a song in there somewhere…
This ain’t the one I had in my mind, but ’twill serve (for now)
“That couldn’t be me in the gorilla disguise!”
No Fucking way!
Mirror that lies!

“Better leave a message ’cause I ain’t home.”

delete it later.jpg

Mirrors that lie:

The Gods Have Gone Nuts!

Daniel and Lance and The Lion’s Den

I am living in The Lion’s Den.
(Not unlike Daniel)
Commerce, America.
Yeah, I just doxx’d myself.
Do not care.
Anyone got any ‘issues’ with me,
Bring it!
I ain’t scared.
I ain’t feeble.
I am still strong (with drink)
And stank
Don’t believe me?
Just ask Shawn.

Okay
That out of the way.

Washing the dishes…

This Lion’s Den is just an old renovated Hotel from the days when People actually had money and came to Commerce to see Jane or Johnny graduate from ETSU.
Ancient history.

Now it is just a trailer park with nothing with wheels.

Lots of White Trash here.

I fit right in.

It is cheap.
Centrally located.
Comfy.
And most important,
Outside the jurisdiction of the Commerce City Police.
Yeah.
This is important to me.
There are some minor inconveniences:
No kitchen
No laundry
No real bathroom.
But!
But!
But!
No one fucks with me.
I approach life with that
“Lazy-Fair” philosophy
Just leave me the fuck alone.
Do that and we will not have any issues.
Got that?
Groovy.
Cheers.
Thank You.
Drive Through
Bye

(And mucho amore to anyone who comments on this post—sometimes I feel lonely)

Oh Why the hell not?

It is kinda related.