Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Why Dante won't be answering my phone calls for a while |10:33 AM|
A couple months ago, Poker Host Joe called me at around midnight on my cellphone. Since reception at my apartment is laughable at best, our conversation ran something like:
"Hey man! Guess just went on sale ***SHHHHH static noises*** Alamo *SHHHH* Rolling roadshow **SHHH*"
and then the phone died. Rather than try fruitlessly to call him back, I jumped onto the Alamo website, hit their rolling roadshow site and bought 3 tickets for the next event.
The Alamo had purchased a school bus for some reason, and wanted to use it to transport a bunch of movie-goers to a drive-in theater opening somewhere in Texas. As I had not been to the drive-in since I lived in California, I jumped at the chance. I bought 3 tickets as I knew Portal would want to go, and I was sure I could find someone else who was interested.

I promptly forgot about it.

A couple days before the big event, I was reminded of it by Portal and Joe, and I realized I had to invite a third person. I'll spare you the details, but as the day arrived, Joe and his wife had cancelled, I had no one to bring, and the event was happening in an hour. I called Dante (who had been along for that Furry fiasco) and told him to "Run". He had to get to Lake Creek Mall in 20 minutes.

Hooo boy. Now the idea for this trip was a cool one. Get a bunch of folks into a bus, load it with a keg and other booze, drive them out to "Rule" Texas, stop for famous cobbler and then watch 70's exploitation movies all night.
It would have been a lot more fun if it had been a 2 hour trip, or even a 3 hour trip. A 5 hour trip however, began to tax people. Had my back not been hurting I would have been just fine, but I sometimes drive 17 hours at a stretch. Portal and Dante were not in nearly as good a mood. Heavy drinking by everyone on the bus besides the driver, the owners of the Alamo and I commenced.
As the trip dragged on, enthusiasm waned. Reaching Underwood Texas, the group began to circle around looking for a restaurant known for its cobbler. Running out of ideas, we stopped at a fireworks stand and someone yelled out "We're looking for the cobbler place! The place with the cobbler!" luckily they didn't attack the bus, knew what the hell we were looking for and gave perfect directions. I have never seen the word "cobbler" as many times as I did in that restaurant.

Reaching the drive-in, we found we had missed "Smoky and the Bandit", but were in time to watch "Death House". It was a beautiful evening, the cloudless sky allowing us to see the stars, and a couple of shooting stars shot overhead. That is, unless you were one of the 99% of people present that were freezing their asses off. I was as comfortable as I have ever been outside, but everyone else was hunched over citronila candles or huddled together for warmth.
After "Death House" was a ultra-soft-core movie of Pinocchio, in which something besides his nose grows when he was unfaithful. "Lady Terminator" was the highlight of the evening, featuring the worst rip offs of every Arnold Schwarzenegger cliche in the history of mankind. Oh, and the worst mullet ever, being sported by the "American" character named Snake, who spends the movie smoking weed and yelling "ROCK AND ROLL".

On the drive back, the bus was a lot quieter, defeated as they were by the experience. I've been trying to get in touch with Dante since then but I think he's terrified of what else I might inflict upon him.

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Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Bitten |8:48 AM|
Nothing quite like a horrid disease to knock you on your ass and give you a tortuous day off of work.
I spent yesterday in bed suffering through feverish nightmares, shakes, nausea, body temperature fluctuations and of course, a ridiculous splitting headache.

I can assume that all these exciting diseases are flowing forth from my increased time around campus. Not that this is a completely negative thing, as challenging one's immune system is better for your health, but I could do without the nightmares. Come to think of it, I could do without most of the symptoms, and would prefer it if I just got a phone call letting me know I was sick.

This previous Friday I was out gambling, as Joe had found us a new place to meet new people, play poker, and take all of their damn money. I was unsure of myself and brought $150, knowing that if I went below $75 I would leave.
Everytime I placed a bet, I thought to myself "If Joe could see my cards, and saw me bet this money, would he give me a disapproving look?"

Haunted by the angry face of Joe, I walked out with a little more than I had when I started. $596.

Sushi dinner on me, darlin'.

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