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Rock ON!

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Pillow FIGHT!

So, I'm cruisin' through the blogosphere just minding my own business, right? I'm reading this guys blog who I thoroughly enjoy. He's funny and I can relate to his humor. His newest post has about 50 comments and growing every minute. I mean, this guy could get more blogger ass than anyone I know, but that's neither here nor there. One of the comments asks why he couldn't just have a pillow fight like a girl? Wow! Just the thought blows my mind...and makes me think of this one time...


So, I'm hanging out with my cousin J-Bone. We're doing the usual, which is standing around looking for something exciting and/or dangerous to do. He's telling me about this college guy that he met at a party the other night. He seemed like a cool dude and said to drop by his apartment sometime..."There's always a party at Steve's place!" the guy had bragged to J-Bone referring to himself in the third party perspective kind of thing that rarely comes off as cool. Apparently Steve pulled it off as cool enough to warrant a visit from J-Bone and Rock.

So we walk about half a mile to Steve's apartment. We knock on the door. Kind of like in a horror movie, the door slowly swings open and reveals a dimly lit living room. There are empty and crushed beer cans everywhere. The rug is the color of eternal stains...beer, blood, vomit, you name it and it was represented on this rug. The walls were once a nice beige, but now a dingy faded, dirty tan. Grimy hand prints and X-rated posters adorned the nasty walls. There was an assortment of mismatched furniture that was surely home to bugs and small critters of the furry kind. In the corner was a life sized cardboard cutout of Princess Leia forever frozen dancing for Jabba the Hutt in her metal bikini. Several burnt out candles created a makeshift alter around her. I think it was the smell that hit me the hardest. It was 3 parts stale beer, 2 parts sweat, a sprinkle of urine (maybe cat, maybe dog, probably human), and a sprig of marijuana (the good stuff. Not that shit they sold down at the docks...!). We both took a step back as the smell engulfed our senses.

"Dude, no one fucking lives here. No one could live here! They'd need a daily tetanus shot!"

"I'm tellin' ya, that dude Steve said he lived here. In fact, he told me about the Princess Leia thing. I mean, I thought he said he dug her, but I didn't know he worshipped her. Either way, I'm tellin' ya, this is the place." J-Bone explained. "STEVE! YO! STEVE! You in here?" He yelled out. We took a couple of steps in. "Steve! Dude?"

From the beyond the tattered black n brown couch was a noise. At first it sounded like a rat uncovering itself from the mass of beer cans. Then we saw a hand come up and grab the top of the couch. Steve pulled himself up from the floor and stood half dazed. "Hey, guys. What's the yelling about? Chill." Steve stood there looking like a bomb had gone off in close proximity to his body. His shirt was half untucked and the chest pocket was ripped almost completely off. As he walked out from behind the couch we could see he was missing a one sock. The sock he was wearing had a hole from which his first two toes had poked through. His jeans were in decent shape, but his fly was unzipped and exposed what appeared to be Scooby Doo boxers. At least he was wearing underwear.

Aside from all of this two things struck me as very odd. He had bits and pieces of magazines stuck to different parts of his body. Upon closer inspection, these pieces were pictures of naked women in different poses that had been torn from the several nudie mags that cluttered the floor and had been stuck to him. As he neared us I saw one of the pictures was a hot blond with huge cans. I reached out and gave it a tug. "Ouch!" He said. "They're attached. We had a Super Glue fight last night. Hard to explain." The other thing I thought weird about him was the writing on his face. Several phrases had randomly been written on his entire face. Things like "Gentlemen prefer ME!", and "I douche daily...do you?" and my personal favorite, "Free Rim Jobs!". Steve saw me reading his face and turned to the cracked mirror hanging on the wall. "Fuck!" He said. "Don't ever pass out at a Steve party! You never know what those fuckers will write on you!"

In the brief time we had been standing in the door we had established that Steve actually existed, we had missed a Super Glue fight, and it was dangerous to pass out in this place. Mental notes were being scrawled.

J-Bone spent the next half an hour talking with Steve. I half listened to them and half investigated the premises. There had to be one or more bodies floating in this shit storm of a house.

"Dude, you guys gotta come over this weekend. We're getting the Pay Per View Ultimate Fighting special! Shamrock! Tank! Gracey! They're all gonna be there! You guys gotta come over! Only $5 cover! Fuck Yeah!"

Before I could even process this J-Bone was assuring him that we'd be there. Who was I to say different? Sadly, this would not be the worst place I had ever gone to party.

The weekend came and we headed off to Steve's place. It was dark, but we instantly knew we were there when we rolled up on the only house on the block with neon beer signs lit up in the windows. Several people, mostly scary looking girls in scruffy leather jackets, stood on the front porch. Each person held a tall plastic cup full of beer. We walked up the steps and the biggest, baddest biker chick grabbed J-Bone by the front of his shirt and asked, "Where the fuck do you think you two are going? Five bucks, dill weed!"

"Easy, Momma." I said and slipped a ten spot out of my back pocket. "It's all good."

She smiled as she took the money. "Cups are over there." She said pointing to the keg sitting just inside the door. "Have fun boys." Relieved we began to walk toward the keg. "I'll be looking for you later, Toots." The biker chick said as she slapped my ass.

We got inside and I thought J-Bone was going to shoot a load. "Dude! This is the best party ever! Biker chicks working the door! Two kegs that I can see...probably more! And I saw that you were making plans for later...you gonna rip some of that up! Can I get a high five!" I laughed and grabbed a cup.

"Dude, whatever you do don't pass out and NO fucking super glue fights! Thats just fucked up!"

We spent the next hour or so walking around talking to the most interesting life forms this side of Jupiter and waiting for the Pay Per View to start.

Around nine-thirty or ten we began to wonder what was up. That's when Steve made his first appearance of the night. Someone shut the music off and Steve broke a bottle on the door frame to his right. "OK, now that I have your attention. I have some sad news. It seems as though my cable has been shut off. I guess I forgot to pay the bill this month. Anyway, without cable I can't get the fight on TV. I'm sorry about that, but there are two more kegs on their way here!" With that the crowd erupted in applause. The music was roaring again.

Around midnight it began to sink in to several of those who had not heard Steve's announcement that the Pay Per View was not on. Some of the crowd began to get unruly. Again, Steve appeared and made an announcement. "Seems as though some of you dumb fucks did not hear the earlier announcement. There will be no Pay Per View tonight."

"That's bullshit!" A drunken voice from behind us yelled out.

"You're right, good sir! You came to see some fighting and you're gonna see some fighting!" Again the crowd roared! J-Bone and I looked at each other. Is this when the super glue comes out? I thought to myself. "Ladies, if you will!"

On Steve's command two of the biker chicks from the front porch appeared. They had stripped down to their bras and panties and were each carrying a pillow. "Let the games begin!" Steve yelled out. The girls began to violently beat each other with the pillows. The crowd was going nuts! Cups of beer were flying through the air. J-Bone and I nudged each other! This party was insane to say the least!

The rest of the night we watched scantily clad biker chicks wail on each other with pillows. Later random members of the crowd got into the action. J-Bone and I watched from the door way. It was surely only a matter of time before the Police showed up and we wanted a clear getaway!

My Life at the Kids Table

With Thanksgiving just a few days away my thoughts turn to yet another year and another meal sitting at the kids table. At this point in time, I will easily be 25 years older than any of the other children at the table. I will sit in the small chairs (made of solid wood, thank God!). My knees will be up around my shoulders and three quarters of my ass will hang off either side of the chair. There will be quiet talk at the "Adult" table, followed by quick glances in my direction and the occasional snicker.

We all start off life sitting at the kids table. Some of us live simply to graduate to the adult table and enjoy the amenities that only the big people enjoy. For one, they get knives. Butter AND steak knives for everyone! They also have access to a seemingly unending supply of wine as if Jesus himself were in the kitchen converting gallons of tap water into sweet, fruity alcohol. The adults will talk using their outdoor voices and laugh with monstrously loud chuckles and guffaws!

I don't drink wine and I enjoy having my food cut up for me prior to it being served. My roll is buttered and placed on the side of my plate where it will soak up gravy or be tossed at the dog during the small food fight that will inevitably break out. We will talk about the newest coolest toys and what we think Santa will bring us this year. We've all been bad, but know that in the end the Jolly Old Man himself will see through it all and bring us toys. Little Jack will spill his milk and Aunt Joyce will have a hissy fit over it. This will be Todd's first year at the adult table. He is sure to give shoot us plenty of sneers to which we will secretly throw peas at him. Who eats that shit anyway?

By now you're thinking, "Awwww, that's a cute story, especially with Thanksgiving right around the corner! That's sweet!" If only I were kidding.

Sure, I started off attending Thanksgiving and other events as everyone did and was subject to sitting at the kids table. Fair enough, I was a kid. It got a little awkward when I was a teenager though. We'd be shooting the shit about toys and the upcoming Christmas excitement. I'd want to shift the talk to hot girls, but they were more interested in action figures and remote controlled cars...girls were yucky!

I went to my friends wedding in 1991. Apparently his wife was not too fond of me and seated me in the back corner...at the kids table! The bar was a quick hop, skip, and jump from there, so I was three sheets to the wind by the time dessert was served. I was actually having fun. I don't dance and I don't give a shit about watching a chick dance with her Dad...the only girls I want to see dance do it while taking their clothes off and usually swing around a pole. So, it was cool to sit and entertain the kids. I did some corny magic tricks and taught them how to play poker for potato chips.

Word got around and every event I went to I was seated with the kids. I was like the All Time Babysitter.

Now I enjoy the fact that I am one of the few adults who can hold my own after dinner at the Playstation. I rarely win, but at least I know when and when not to use a frag grenade. Silly adults!

***

With Thanksgiving this week, will anyone be on the "internet"? Or will my stories fall on deaf ears? I know some of you actually enjoy gathering with family and would rather have dinner and entertaining conversation than read blogs...LOL!

Happy Thanksgiving Friends!

Rock ON!

The Evolution of Green Hair

Back in high school I was on the front line of fashion. Not in a wimpy way, but in a groundbreaking, trend setting, "fuck you" kind of way. That same principle held true for my hair.

My earliest pictures show my hair always parted on the side...which side always seemed to change, but the basic style stayed constant. It was a family thing. My Dad and all of my uncles had the same style...boring!

In 7th grade I decided that I was going to start my walk down the road to rebellion. I wasn't going to do it with drugs or by running away, I was going to do it with my hair. By this age I was trusted to go get my haircut on my own. This was a major milestone in my life. It sucks having your Mom sit there as you get your hair cut. Anyway, this one time I tell the girl I want a little change. I know she's thinking, "OK, we'll move the part from the left side to the right side! That will be nice!" I tell her to part it in the middle...and feather the bangs!

When I got home my Mom was surprised, but played it cool. "Nice haircut." She said, but the wheels were put in motion to stop my craziness before it became a problem.

The next time I was due for a haircut, my Mom said I should go to my Aunts new shop. She gave me the money and sent me on my way. When I get there I ask my Aunt to trim it up...parted in the middle and feather them bangs! I walked out looking like a mini version of my Dad. Clearly there had been some behind the scenes discussions. I didn't let this faze me. I went straight home and parted that shit down the middle. Things were uneven, but I would not be overruled on this.

Years later, I began to grow my hair long. When it got down past my shoulders I had it permed...well, what I wanted was some waves put in to give it some life, but what I ended up with was a tight ass curly perm. The chick at the Salon said it would loosen up in time. Yeah, in 2 months time.

So, now I have wavy hair thanx to my two month old perm. What next? I know, they make this new product called Sun In Hair...it's a sun activated lightener...lets try that out! I put some streaks...and the girls loved it...I put more streaks and more girls loved it...then I started using it daily on just the tips of the left side...BAMMM...there was a flock O' chicks nesting on my door! I'd found one of the secret keys to getting laid...Good Hair!

Simply highlighting would not do. I went all out and bleached it! My first attempt left me as a redhead...not cool! Chick attraction took a hit that week. I went to a beauty supply store and asked the lady at the front desk (who was a bleach blond goddess) how to get my hair color like hers. She gave me a bottle of peroxide and a packet of some shit. When mixed together it looked like blue cum and burned my scalp, but it made my hair a yellowish white! Perfect!

For several months I sported the bleach blond look. My parents were not really into this look, but the girls were. Several other kids at school attempted the RockDog look, but ended up with a freakish thing that no upstanding groupie would dare touch.

Then Summer came. I love swimming during the summer. However, to maintain a pool that is safe to swim in, one must put in chemicals such as chlorine. Our friend chlorine will kill harmful bacteria. What many people don't know is that too much chlorine will turn your bleached hair green. That is exactly what happened to me. I went swimming for like 8 hours one day. My Mom had just added the chlorine and had clearly put in way too much. When I got out and went inside I happned to see myself in the mirror. My wet hair was grass green! This was not cool! I was not punk rock...I was glam...glam is not green. When my hair dried it was a mellow mint color. It was Sunday night and the supply store was closed. I was going to be forced to have green hair in school on Monday.

I have to assume that the shitacular lighting in the school hid my minty hair as no one said anything. I was able to fix the mess after school and no one was the wiser! Whew! Disaster averted! Let the coolness live on!

Sunday!

It's early Sunday morning...I've been up working most of the night. Ideas were flowing. I blacked out again and when I returned there were three new stories written! I did some Spell Checks and had a beer or two...or three.

I'm pretty spent right now, but I thought that I'd invite you into my office.

The picture you see is my small home office. Some of the interesting tidbits (at least to me...). On the bottom right is a baseball that I got at the 2000 World Series. I go there early and during batting practice Scott Brosius threw it up to my wife...twice. The first time she dropped it and my heart sank thinking that we missed our only chance to get a ball. When I'm having trouble coming up with ideas I rub this ball for ideas and luck. Yes, I rub my ball alone in my office (insert your witty joke here...).

Above that is my printer, on top of that is a sea shell from when I was snorkeling in the Caribbean on my Honeymoon. The tour guide guy dove about twenty feet down and grabbed this off of the bottom. He gave it to a girl first, but she didn't want it so I asked if I could have it. I put it in the pocket of my swimming shorts. Yes, I had a crab in my shorts (insert your witty joke here...). The rest of the time we are snorkeling I can feel this sharp prickly thing on my leg, but I figure it is the spines on the shell. Two days later our cabin smells like rotting fish and we track it down to this shell. It had had a crab still in it! The poor guy had died and stunk up our room. Apparently he was trying to signal me by pinching my leg, but I didn't listen.

Then there is my David Lee Roth "Crazy From The Heat" book. Roth kicks ass. He is an inspiration to me to try and live life to the fullest, or a least be loud trying!

To the right of my monitor is an original Jawa Star Wars action figure complete with cloth robe. Suck on that, Trekkies! Jawas rule! To the left is a picture of me and Sebastian Bach from Skid Row fame. I waited to catch him after a Jekyll & Hyde performance on Broadway. Cool guy! He signed my program and took a picture with me!

Other than that, it is just an assortment of Yankees pictures and other memorabilia, pens, paper, and random pornographic objects.

I hope you have enjoyed your tour. Please save your questions until the tour has ended. Ya'll come back again some time now, ya hear!

Rock ON!