Hoo-wee, Saturday turned out to be, what me and my good friend Robert Crumb like to call: Cu-RAZY POPS!
Picking up where we left off from: after my post yesterday I went straight back to sleep, I mean 8.30 on a Saturday morning, c’mon, you would have done the same thing.
Three hours later I found myself at my buddy Peggles‘ flat, drinking really good filter coffee and watching Muse to their thing on the HAARP DVD.
Graumpot was there too, getting his dirty paws on Peggles‘ X-Box games. Peggles, he’s a rad dude, but he shows me this documentary he spent his Friday night watching, it’s called Capturing the Friedmans and deals with child molestation.
I didn’t catch the details cause to be honest, there’s enough fucked up shit in my head already. I’ll definitely add a whole bunch more before I die, but not without at least some self-censorship.
I mean, to give you an idea, watch Visitor Q, it’s a Japanese movie that deals with domestic abuse, concensual father/daughter incest, necrophilia, heroine, rape and unbelievable amounts of lactation.
Yeah, and that’s a sunny day at the beach compared to all the other shit in their already.
Dart boards always remind me of this one time I was at Peggles‘ folks place, they have a badass bar downstairs where I’ve been drinking and getting fucked up at since i was about 13.
I don’t know how it happened, but another buddy of mine, The Glaze and myself decided it would be fun to take turns throwing darts at one another.
Yes, we’d been drinking.
So The Glaze spreads his hand out flat, palm down in the middle of the dartboard and looks the other way.
I aim as carefully as I can and manage to peg the dart into the wall, about a foot away from The Glaze’s hand.
Then he throws and nails me right in the webbing between my thumb and forefinger. He threw really softly and the dart only just punctured the skin, then fell out.
After that I was justifiably enraged.
‘Fuck that shit!’ I said, massaging where the dart had hit me, ’round 2 asshole!’
And so, being the good sport he is, The Glaze put the same hand back on the dartboard. This time I didn’t hold back – that bit earlier about fine motor skills? I used none of them, I just swung my hand like I was throwing a punch and the dart pegged millimeters away from The Glaze’s middle finger, it’s entire 3cm tip sunk into the cork.
Everyone laughed, had that dart been any closer, it would have gone straight through his finger.
And so it was with some reluctance that I spread my right hand on the board.
I looked away and gritted my teeth, the room went quiet, The Glaze aimed like he never had in his life before, and…
BAM! The dart sails through the air and straight into the bone of my second knuckle, where it stuck.
‘AAAAAA FUUUCCCCCKKKK!!!’ was all I pretty much said, I had to flick my hand really hard to get the dart out and it bled like no tiny hole ever has.
Good times Pity the scar it left was so tiny – let that be a lesson, don’t do something really stupid unless you’re at least 70% sure if it goes wrong you’ll have a cool scar.
It was pretty funny when we first arrived cause while most people got the chilling part of it right (ie, they bought deck chairs and blankets and sun cream and umbrellas) they all either didn’t take their own booze (cause yeah, technically it wasn’t allowed) or they took bottles and busted by the rent-a-cops at the door.
We were smart, we decanted a bottle of Vodka into an empty bottle of mineral water and took 4 litres of Sprite and plastic glasses and they let us straight in.
I’m not a huge Vodka fan, but it’s the easiest thing to sneak into anywhere.
And so we found a patch of grass / dirt in the shade to sit on and started drinking. An hour later had found ourselves a place to invade and were sitting on blankets with Jenna-fuh (my flatmate who was there too) and her buddy [insert name].
It turned out to be a pretty cool day. The sky shifted endlessly, sometimes sunlight broke through the clouds, hot and strong until you felt like you were baking in your own natural juices, then a fluffy cloud would drift by and life would be easy-breezy again.
The bands were nothing special and I doubt half the people there were listening anyway. The Black Hotels played a pretty uninspiring set and moped off, 340ml were all chilled out and funky as usual (people seem to like that stuff) and Gang of Instrumentals had a few awesome moments.
My favourite were a band called Bed on Bricks, pretty interesting take on rock / funk, I’ve got both their albums, they’re one of the better SA bands playing right now, people just don’t know it.
Halfway through it all I had to pick up J-Rab from work, but I was pretty relieved to have her with me cause I get restless when I’m out and she’s not there to party with me. I just feel guilty cause she’s working and having a crap time and I’m drinking and having fun.
We got back in time to tuck into the whisky that was going around our little campsite and catch the last couple of bands.
At one stage, J-Rab, Peggles’ girlfriend (we’ll call her PGF until I can think of something better) and me went to get some burgers, not realising that every one of us was totally plastered.
The ensuing chaos at the burger stand was like something out of a bad Monty Python skit.
Burger Guy: What you want?
Me: Ok, it’s two cheese burgers, um, one chicken burger and one normal burger, I think? PGF, is Peggles having anything?
PGF: Yeah I think -
J-Rab: Isn’t he having a burger?
PGF: I think, yeah, he’s having one
Me: Are you having one?
Me: So what’s that?
J-Rab: What have you ordered?
Burger Guy: What’s the order?
Me: Sorry dude, shit, ok it’s two cheese burgers, um, two, no wait, three normal burgers, um a chicken burger – two chicken burgers?
J-Rab: What? Who’s the other chicken burger for?
PGF: How many is that?
Burger Guy: How many normal burgers?
Me: Wait, sorry, fuck, shit, how many burgers have you made?
J-Rab: It’s 5!
PGF: It’s 6!
Burger Guy: It’s 4!
Dude in queue: FUCK! I’M HUNGRY!
Me: FUCK! Doesn’t matter, just make it end, please, people hate me, I hate me, here, take my money, babe get the burgers, we’re leaving.
And that’s how I ended up getting everyone except me the wrong order, I just couldn’t handle the pressure, I buckled, handling complex mental tasks when you’re on the sauce is like trying to play golf underwater.
We left not long after the burger incident and J-Rab and I went home to eat left-over curry and watch Lesbian Vampire Killers, which I must say, is actually fucking funny as hell.
It’s done very much in a Sean of the Dead vein, only with lesbian vampires, funny shit. I also bought the new Arctic Monkeys and Pearl Jam albums, but more on that later.
Today, I swear I’m getting my haircut. If I can’t at least get that right, then this entire weekend will have just added up to kicks and nothing else.
Wouldn’t be the first one, but I’m 25, not 19, I’ve got to at least accomplish 1 thing every weekend besides pickling my brain, partying like my life depends on it and sleeping in with J-Rab.
Fuck I wish she was here now, perfect day for DVDs, bed and about as much sex as you can handle.
Ahh, the good life