o’s the Friday night ‘fore last I done went ter Santa Monica with The Omen.  I drank a Bud tallboy outter a paper bag in one of them snootiest neighborhoods in the locale, then proceeded ter drink a 200 ml bottle of Kessler.  Then I’s right urinated off that there Palisades pedestrian bridge onter the unsuspectin’ automobiles roarin’ by below on Pacific Coast Highway.

Saturday an’ Sunday I didn’t imbibe none, but by Monday mornin’ I wuz right cranky an’ it done occurred ter me that it had been awhile since I had spent any sorter extended period of time without a regular intake of that there Devil’s likker.  I had attributed the crankiness an’ general downward behavior I wuz experiencin’ ter over doin’ it with the exercise over the weekend, cruisin’ six miles on the bicycle an’ a hefty hike in El Escorpion Park in West Hills.  But I started to figger it might well be some kinder withdrawal from the apparent frequentness with which I were gettin’ loaded.

Now ever’one knows I’s a right alcoholic.  I done been so since that there low down cheatin’ woman of a wife done disappeared inter the red dirt of Oklahoma.  I’s also eatin’ too fuckin’ much.  At the end of last year I done gained 60 pounds in just a coupler months.  None of my fancy western duds fit no more.  Agitatin’ ter say the least.

Anyhow’s, I figgered that I wuz definitely experiencin’ some sorter withdrawal symptoms an’ this worred me a bit an’ I figgered I oughtter find some inclination towards straightenin’ out my act a bit in the near future.  ‘Course, this would hafter wait until the weekend had passed.

Thursday night The Omen an’ I done went out ter the Cowboy Palace ter celebrate his 21^st birthday.  Finally we’s don’t hafter be all skiddish in bringin’ his underage ass inter a joint ter do a show!  Haw haw!  Nonetheless, several Newcastles unner done found us beyond the Cowboy Palace an’ in the Candy Cat next door.  Now, the Candy Cat ain’t much on a Thursday night, lemme tell you, but I wuz far gone enuff that I still parted with some President Washingtons in return for some shakin’ entertainment… but on a work night, mind you.

That there next day weren’t perty, startin’ up bright an’ early at 5:30am,  starin’ down them students by 8:30.  But somehows I done managed ter rally through the day, even stuffin’ in a coupler hours of home football game ter keep me in the good graces of the Powers That Be in that there Administration.  But it weren’t enuff that I done crawled through a long day of earnin’ my keep.  That night were a big show.  None other than The Rev an’ Motorhead doin’ a bill together at that there Nokia Theater downtown.

Needless ter say, there weren’t no rest fer the weary an’ gettin’ ter that there show with The Omen an’ his lovely gal pal Geraldine an’ her twin sister followed close on the heels of findin’ my way home from the workplace.  Y’know ya gotter be perty exhausted when you’s standin’ on the floor fer Motorhead an’ ya can’t keep yer eyes open an’ you is swayin’ in place, awaitin’ the potential of the floor risin’ up an’ smackin’ you one.  I figger my fillin’ the fuel tank with Newcastle and Bud Light didn’t help none, either.

In fact, after leavin’ the show an’ prancin’ across that there Nokia Plaza, I done attempted ter leap up on one of them stonework benches they got decoratin’ the place an’ full done miscalculated.  The result:  an’ embarrassin’, drunken face plant in ter one them planters.  Done yielded a coupler bruises as well.

A side note ‘bout that there Rev an’ Motorhead show, though.  I gotter admit that it wuz the WORST crowd I done ever had the displeasure of experiencin’ a Reverend Horton Heat show with.  What wuz them peoples’ problem?  Who can go ter a Rev show an’ just STAND STILL through their set?   Laaaaammme!!  An’ another thing I wanner gripe about is that when I went ter look fer a can before Motorhead went on, that there usher-type feller sent me up ter the fifth floor to the bathrooms up there, but then the usher up there wouldn’t let me back down!!  What the hell?  He done kept sayin’ how the downstairs wuz full an’ I had ter stay up there.  Then it weren’t just me, but four er five other folks in the same predicament!!  Who the hell done tells a show goer ter go upstairs ter a pisser knowin’ they ain’t gonner let ya back down?  Sonsabitches!  Well, we done pushed by that feller… I guess it were just the premise that he weren’t gonner be able ter stop all of us.  I told him, “What’re you gonner do?  Put me in jail fer wantin’ ter go back downstairs where I done just come from??”

Anyhows, back on target.  So, I done drowned Thursday night an’ Friday night in the proverbial bottle.  Then on Saturday I done rode my bicycle ter my ole work site cuz the student body there wuz puttin’ on a ska show an’ I wanted ter see some folks fer a bit.  I didn’t stay too long, though.  Just enuff time ter catch up with the ubiquitous Roderick Bradford, exchange hellos with the ever lovely Miss Rubio, an’ badmouth Marine recruiter Rusty Cruz.  Then it were off ter the Oktoberfest of a former coworker.

Mr. Tom, of My Half Ridden Dream fame, done picked me up at ‘bout 7, stuffin’ the bicycle in the back of his lil silver bullet, an’ we wuz off ter do some serious elbow bendin’, even stoppin’ ter pick up a bottle or fancy Scotch on the way so’s we wouldn’t look like total freeloaders.  It were Glenbrothes, er some name like that.  A lil winey fer my taste, but it down went down as well as anythin’ else were goin’ ter.

So, ter make a long story short, I do believe myself an’ a coupler other past coworkers polished off that bottle an’ chased it with numerous stein refillin’s from whatever the keg of German lager the host had set up wuz, laughin’ late an’ laughin’ loud as Tom done put it.  It were quite the party in my completely blitzed opinion, so much so that 3am found a small clique of us bein’ turned out ter our own devices!  Haw haw!  A stop at El Indio on the way back ter the apartment an’ then ter sleep,

The next mornin’ I done woke up an’ could barely see through the headache I had achieved.  The dog needed ter go out an’ I started lookin’ fer the keys, realizin’ perty quickly that they wuzn’t where all the other contents of my pockets wuz.  Some frantic searchin’ yielded nuthin’ an’ I do believe I wuz settlin’ down ter the sinkin’ feelin’ that I had left them keys in the door an’ some sumbitch had walked off with them.  I began ter contemplate all the locks I needed ter replace an’ how I wuz gonner have ter beg fer a new work key… try explainin’ that one, right?

Well, luckily them keys turned up in the hip pocket of my jeans crumpled on the bedroom floor.  How I managed ter empty everything else outter them pockets an’ leave them keys in is a mystery ter me, but I figger it’s perty evident ter anyone readin’ this that this finally wuz a damnably unacceptable consequence of my riotous an’ irresponsible behavior.  I couldn’t even remember half of what it wuz I had done the night before.

I’m sorter figgerin’ I is wildly outter control an’ I’s gotter get a hold on myself somehow here before somethin’ real outlandish happens.  So’s, as of midnight I done been vegan straightedge.  I’m just holdin’ at 7 days now, mind you, but we’ll see what happens, right?

I do believe that The Omen were ‘sposed ter take on this challenge with me, but I am figgerin’ at this point, particularly since he didn’t show up fer rehearsal tonight, that he’s prolly already done fallen by the wayside.  But that’s alright, I’ll just do this all by myself.

So at 5:30 this mornin’ I done brewed some coffee.  I know that this is supposedly some kinder minor threat ter my decision makin’ process, but I figger that caffeine is prolly the least of my worries in the big picture, so don’t try an’ lombast me on that there caffeine bit doggone it.

So’s I drank a coupler cups of coffee with some non-dairy creamer.  Then I ate a coupler slices of tomato with some seasoning salt on them.

Then fer lunch I done ate a tomato an’ mustard sandwich.  It were alright, I guess.

Then when I got home from work I done scooped some humus outter the bucket with a crust of bread.

Then fer dinner I ate a coupler Worthington Italian sausages an’ a coupler vegan Boca Burgers with mustard an’ ketchup.

I know I done ate too doggone much bread terday, but overall I don’t figger I did so bad.

I did drink three er four cups of coffee durin’ rehearsal.

Maybe in the mornin’ I will have some Soy Longaniza.

I feel like shit.

I wish I could have a beer.

At least I don’t gotter worry none ‘bout the sex part.  That’s perty much nailed up tight.

Heh.

-Squeezebox Sam