Free Beer Tomorrow...

The summer is over & you can't keep a good Biff down...

Devil may care.

In absentia. Wow the time flies. Just where the fuck have I been??? 'Where is my life? Where is my mind???(The Pixies-'Natch!).' I'll get to that tale when I get to it, if I decide to get to it. Truth be told, I just haven't been as motivated to write lately because, I've been....dare I say it...'happy.' Before I could wake up with furrowed brow, beat on my chest while shaking my fist to the heavens bellowing. 'FUCK YOUUUUUU!!!!' from deep within my solar plexus. But then as time passed on, my anger slowly subsided & a kinder, gentler Biff came to light much like the ebb & flow of a gentle summer breeze. I would look into the mirror & notice 2 small creases above my lips just underneath my cheekbones. Holy shit are those dimples!!??? No stop it! Must maintain stoic, brooding demeanor!!! Keep your edge!!! Maintain the ANGERRRRR!!! But try as I might, my 'dark muse' could not be found.


But then I had a very bad day. The type of day where you just wanted to scissor-kick an old lady in the back of the head(If there was anything that I learned from watching Benny Hill as a kid, it was that all hot women wore lingerie & abusing the elderly is funny!) & wish colon cancer on your neighbor. I stomped home all fire & brimstone leaving a trail of destruction in my wake that would have made the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse blush. Then I had what some alcoholics describe as, 'A moment of clarity.' Sweet Jesus, I'm angry again!!! That old black magic filling my veins with dark endorphons! Sinister synapses clicking away in my brain.


'Dayum this feels good!!! Bwah-Ha-Ha-Ha!!!!!!!! Daddy's home & now you're all in deep, deep trouble!'


The Anger. The Hate is back for me to mine yet again. I wrote a little song about it. It's all about the time that I had a horrible blind date that involves fecal-philia, made a waiter throw up in his mouth a little bit, & got out of paying the bill. Like ta hear it? Here we go!!!


A few months after the, 'psycho, red-headed hose-beast of the east who shall not be named' & I broke up, I slowly crawled out from under my proverbial rock, much like a new-born pup in the wild. Slowly poking my nose outside the door & dipping my toe back into the dating petry dish. Singular-Bificus(Yep that's a technical term fucker!) be thy name. Of course all of the women in my office fawned over my poor, damaged, fragile ego & would always promise to set me up with one of their sibgle friends, but most of my co-workers were in their 50's. That's not evern 'cougar' territory. What would you call that, a leopard??? I would always thank them for their sympathy & let them know that I still had my surfboard & my health, so I'd be a-ok!!! No reason the play matchmaker for this 'lone wolf.'


One day my dear friend Konnie tells me about her massage therapist friend who is in her mid-thirties, single & very cute. She didn't mention anthing about her 'personality' so I was relived to find out that she wasn't fat(Don't judge! I know that sounds mighty sexist & presumptuous, but I do have some morals. I refuse to date a woman that weighs more than I do. I'm getting older & I don't want to throw out my back!). Her name was Mandy. She was actually very hot & a massage therapist to boot. At the very least, myabe I'll get a free massage out of the deal right??? We'll Konnie gave me her number & after a few converations, she seemed cool enough, so we decided to plan a late afternoon 'hang-out' kind of date in Balboa Park & a dinner afterwards downtown. Simple. Easy. Fun. Easy(Well not if you've been reading this blog & the luck that I tend to have with women!).


We met in Balboa Park on a sunny Saturday afternoon(Well that's pretty much every Saturday in San Diego. It's perpetually 75 degrees out & sunny. It's so fucking comfortable all the time it's disgusting!). Mandy was looking very cute. Cut off shorts, bikini top & a big smile. She greeted me with a big bear hug & picked me up in the air & commenced to spin me around like a rag doll. This was shocking to me because she was about 5'2 & couldn't have weighed more than 15 lbs(Damn this chick is strong!). We were both 'transplants' to San Diego. She was originally from Seattle & I was from Pittsbugh. I was enjoying our cute, 'get to know you' chit chat when we came upon an old woman walking her small dog. The little fella was squatting for all he was worth dropping a doggie-deuce. For some reason this fascinated Mandy. The puppy pooing actually stopped her mid-sentence. She stopped, stared & I noticed that her nipples has just gotten hard. 'Holy shit this is turning her on!' I thought to myself. No that can't be. That's just fucking gross. I tried to ignore this major red flag because I was initially having a good time. But then we came across another dog doing his business in the park & this time she pointed it out & kneeled down next to the excrement & cooed,


'Aahhh! The cycle of life! From animal to Earth!'

I did a triple take trying to digest what she had just said(Ummm...What the fuck????).

Panicked thoughts started running through my head. No, no, no, no, no! Why can't I find normal women to date??? I surmised to myself (To recap a large portion of my social life; If daddy didn't give you enough attention as a child, we will probably date. If you have or are currently in the stripping profession, we will probbaly date. If you have some sort of strange fetish &/or might have a chemical imbalance much like bi-polar disorder, we will probably date. If you...Aw fuck it, you get where I'm coming from!).

This might not have been such a major issue, but the same shit-tacular scenario repeated itsef three more fucking times. We had to stop & stare at three more dogs leaving doggie-dumps in the park before we made it to the restaurant.

Strolling into this fine dining establishment I felt equal parts disgusted & turned on. Could her hotness cancel out the dog-shit fetish? What if she tossed around her own feces like a crazed monkey when we hooked up? I seriously thought that I could pull it off, I mean guys have been ignoring warning signs since like this since the beginning of time to have sex right???

We ordered a few rounds of drinks & then the conversation when from light to downright accusatory. I just couldn't get over the dog-shit thing & she kept talking about dogs!!! Dog this, dog that! I kept trying to change the subject until she slammed her drink down & started waxing philosphical about the movie, 'The Notebook.' She looked me in the eye & very matter-of-factly said,

'Would you build me a house?'
'No.'
'Why not???'
'Because I don't know how to build a house.'
'Well if you knew how to build a house, would you build a house for me?'
'No.'
'Well, Noah would!'
'Who the fuck is Noah???'
'You know Noah!'
'No, I don't know Noah. Is he a carpenter or something???'
'He's Ryan Gosling's character in the movie, The Notebook! He built Allie a house & waited for her! You're just like all of the other guys! I need a man like Noah. Why can't you be more like Noah???'
'Well for starters, you're describing a dude in a move that doean't exist in real life!!! He's a fucking work of fiction!!!'
'That's sooo typical! Look at you with your devil may care attitude! You're sooo fucking cavalier!'
'Well I know something that's atypical. You get turned on by watching dogs take shits!!!'
'I do not! I think that it's a natural miracle of life that's all!!!'
'No you are a fecal-philiac! I'll bet you're like Sylvester Stallone! That dude used to pay hookers to take shits on the top of glass coffee tables while he was underneath the table masturbating!'
'Wow is that true???'
'I'm not sure. I read it somewhere, but your right up there in that freak stratosphere lady!!!"

During this heated exchange, we failed to realize that that octave level of our voices kept getting higher & higher until the entire restaurant was staring at us. It's kind of like that scene you see in movies when something akward happens in a crowded location & the record scratch noise plays & everybody focuses on you. Yep, just like that.

Also, we failed to realize that our waiter had came back to our table right before the explosive argument. Right at that moment, he threw up a little but in his mouth & had to abruptly spit it out into a napkin.

'Both of you need to leave right now!'
'But what about the bill?' I asked.
'It's on the house. Get the fuck out of here right now!!!'

We both stormed out of the restaurant. She went left, I went right. She flipped me off as I shouted back, 'Go back to the park so that you can watch more dogs take shits!!!'

To this day, I have never seen, 'The Notebook' & I don't plan on ever seeing it. What type sick person releases this propaganda tool that heaps undue pressure onto poor, unsuspecting bastards much like myself who are just trying to have a good time & maybe try to have an adult relationship or just get laid???

Devil may care. Indeed!

Free Beer Tomorrow, I promise!!!

I will have a new update soon. I've just been dealing with some not so random life 'splosions, but, 'I assure you, we're open!'

'When you get to the, 'FUCK YOU' stop, you're here.

For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge. FUCK. Fuck is a great fucking word. Think about it. How many words in the English language can actually be used as a noun, verb, adjective, adverb & infix? Oh yeah, an infix is when you insert a word into another word, like 'abso-fucking-lutely.' Not many other words can prompt such a strong reaction. Would you really be that upset if somebody yelled, 'Burrito You!!!!' Didn't think so. As you can probably guess, this story involves a whole lot of 'FUCK' & how this lovely word became part of the directions that Dennis & I would eventually have to start giving out to people when they came over to our house in Philadelphia.

The Doctor Seuss house(For further information about said Doctor Seuss house, please see the previous blog entry entitled, 'The Martini Incident.' 'Natch!) that Dennis & I lived in was a duplex. Our neighbor was the landlord's son, let's just call him Mr. Ed. Mr. Ed was your typical trust fund baby, burnout douche-bag. You know the type, old enough to be an adult, but never truly will be. He smoked alot of weed, drank profusely & loved to cruise the local high schools to pick up chicks(Because he could buy them beer & cigarrettes.). He worked part-time for the city & dipped full-time into the $$$ that daddy gave him. If you ever needed him(Which really was never!), he could be found on the back deck that we shared shotgunning Milwaukee's Best beer cans & the occaisional gravity-bong hit(If you don't know what either of those things mean, Google that shit. I obviously had much more fun in college than you did!).

One Friday Night, Ed invited Dennis & I over to his palatial estate for some drinks. We reluctantly accepted. There was a distict, pungent smell of spilled bong-water as we entered his Man-Cave of doom. A stained yellow couch was the centerpiece that that tied his living room together where 2 empty kegs & a piece of plywood made for a makeshift coffee table with various porno mags strewn about the floor for good measure. I stepped on a crunchy Hustler magazine that stuck to the bottom of my shoe much like melted gum on a warm, summer pavement would. Ewwww!!!

The evening started out innocent enough with some Pabst Blue Ribbon tall boys, but then Mr. Ed decided to break out the Jagermeister & red bull. Wikipedia describes Jagermeister as follows:

Jahermeister is a type of liquer called Krauterlikor. Jagermeister's ingredients include 56 herbs, fruits, & spices including liquorice, anise, poppy seeds, saffron, ginger, jumiper berries & ginseng. These ingredients are ground, then steeped in water & alcohol for 2-3 days. Afterwards this mixture is filtered & stored in oak barrels for about a year. When a year has passed. the liquer is then filtered again, then mixed with sugar, caramel, alcohol & water. It is filtered one last time & then bottled.

My definition of Jagermeister is as follows:

Milk from a witch's tit is mixed with the tears of a child, blood from your 1st born & unicorn urine. This concoction is blessed by the dark lord on Arbor Day & then marinated with crack cocaine & pixie dust for good measure & delivered to your local dive bar!

If you've ever habitually drank Jagermeister, then you probably side with my definition. This tart, sugary liquer is liquid crack. Moreover, it used to make me destroy furniture(Hell, one time I drank almost an entire bottle & built 'Stonehenge' with all of the living room & kitchen furniture, then proceeded to throw a few of the couches off of my balcony into the bay('What??? Don't judge me. It was a Tuesday night & I was bored!'). If you mix Jagermeister with Red Bull you create a 'Jager-Bomb.' 'Jager-Bombs' taste just like Welch's Grape Soda & are technically a legal 'Speed-Ball' which is the term used when you combine an amphetamine & a barbituate(An upper & a downer-'Natch!). In lamens terms, 'It fucks you up real good!'

About halfway through our 'Jager-Session' we started talking about previous pranks that we've pulled off & how coincidentally the Annual Philadelphia Bike Race would be going right past our house tomorrow with a live-feed camera set up strategically beside our front deck. I jokingly infered that somebody should paint, 'FUCK YOU' on the road in front of our house just to screw with the live feed & local newscasts.

Mr.Ed: 'Hey man, that sounds like a really good idea!'

Me: 'C'mon Ed. Not really! But I tell you what, if we ever decide to deface a public road with obscenities, we'll give you full credit!

We all had a good laugh & continued to drink ourselfs into a 'Jager-Bomb' induced oblivion that could only end inevidably with a hugging of the porcelain-god. What I forgot to realize was that in my heyday, I was so good at instigating anarchy amongst my peers that I could practically do it in my sleep. I planted a seed in Mr. Ed's brain that grew that night & spread like the fucking ebola virus. When Dennis & I stumbled next door, Mr. Ed went to his work truck where he had phoshporescent highway paint. Just what the fuck is phosphorescent highway paint you ask? Well it's the reflective paint that they use to paint the lines on highways. This reflective paint contains thousands of little glass spheres, designed to reflect lots of light, even at night! Mr. Ed began painting what would become his masterpiece....

Flashforward to a hungover, headache-laced morning. I stumbled to the bathroom, fumbled with the aspirin bottle(Stupid child-proofed piece of shit!) & the brushed my teeth. I was half-singing a song & brushing my teeth to the beat in my head.

'Kitty at my foot & I wanna touch it! Kitty at my foot & I wanna touch it!' Kitty at my...What the FUCK!!!?????'

I looked out of our living rom window & did a triple take. The bike race had already begun. There were literally hundreds of people lining the streets & right in front of our house in 20-ft high letters was spelled out, 'FUCK YOU.' My toothbrush hit the floor. Holy shit Mr. Ed had really done it. My drunken lament had become reality & it was being broadcast live locally on CBS for all of Philadelphia to see!

I ran downstairs & started pounding on Mr. Ed's door. After what seemed like an eternity, he answered.

Me: Ed, what the fuck did you do????'

Mr.Ed: She sure is purty ain't she?'

Me: Ed, I'm actually more inpressed than pissed, but I'm using my Plausible Deniability Card on this one ok? You didn't do this. I didn't give you the idea & we have absolutely no idea how a 20-ft high 'FUCK YOU' was pained in perfect Queen's English in front of our house ok???

Mr.Ed: Word.

Me: Word it is you silly bastard!

And with that I marched back upstairs where Dennis was watching the local race on tv.

Dennis: 'Biff, check it out, they haven't computer-blurred the 'FUCK YOU' completely yet. You can totally tell what it says!'

That Monday, the City desperately tried to remove the painted 'FUCK YOU' in front of our house to no avail. This was after all phosphorescent reflective paint that you literally cannot wash away. After about 2wks of trying various power washes & paint-dilutes, they City of Philadelphia's Road Maintenance Department conceded defeat & we were stuck with a big, fat 'FUCK YOU' in front of our house.

There's a funny caveat to this story, Mr. Ed didn't use up all of his 'special paint' that night. He walked up to the top of our hill & wrote 'LICK MY BALLS!' in 20-ft high lettering as well. So now every time we gave directions to our house it went a little something like this;

"Make a right on Lewis Street & start driving up the hill. When you get to the 'FUCK YOU' stop, you're here. If you get to 'LICK MY BALLS!' you went too far & have to turn around.'

Is Biff spelled with one F or two???

Confucius say, 'That man who fall asleep with hand in pants, wake up with sticky fingers!' But I digress, Holy fucking shit did I digess! Almost an entire month! But do not fret dear readers, I have a yarn for you that involves oral sex, bi-polar schizophrenia & poor spelling! Let's dig in shall we?

In 1987, a movie was released that scared the ever-loving-shit out of every red-blooded man in the United States. I'm talking about a little opus entitled, 'Fatal Attraction.' I was currently in Junior High & women were just starting to pay attention to my akward advances. One fatefule weekend, I decided to sneak into an R-rated movie to maybe catch a glance at some boobs & walked out with a morality lesson that involved broiling a fucking bunny-rabbit! It's a simple equation that rings just as true today as it did back in 1987, 'Psychos-Good sex, but hard to get rid of!'

Fresh with this new nugget of wisdom about crazy ladies, I went back to school on Monday determined to not find my own personal bunny-broiler. But you can't fight fate & sure enough, I met Mandy, the new goth-looking girl in 3rd period Social Studies. She was cute & most importantly, into me. Jet black hair with an attitude. She introduced me to bands like The Cure, Joy Dvision & Depeche Mode(I still listen to all 3 to this day & if you don't like Depeche Mode, you suck! I'm not sayin' I'm just sayin!'). It was a fun 2 weeks until one fateful evening she called me & said,

'Hey sweetie what'cha doing?'

'Not much. How's about you?'

'I'm just redecorating my room. Do you spell Biff with one F or two???'

'Um, two F's, Why?'

FFFSH! FFFSH! FFFSH!

'What's that noise?'

'Oh, I'm just spray-painting another F on my wall.'

'I think that we should see other people!'

CLICK!

I hung up the phone horrifed. My cute goth girlfriend went all 'Fatal Attraction' on my ass! What the fuck!

Thus began a series of dodging acts avoiding said 'bunny-broiler' during & sfter school. It was like I adapted my own personal 'psycho-spidey-sense.' Every time Mandy was near, the hair stood up on the back of my neck & I would get the hell out of dodge!

Flashforward to the winter of '96, I'm with some of my fraternity brothers downtown Pittsburgh in the now-defunct nightclub, Metropol(At least I think that it's defunct. Well shit on me & call me a sundae, I just Googled Metropol & it's still open!) & I'm making my way across a busy dance floor. Suddenly I get butterflies in my stomach. I can't quite place the feeling & then the hair on my neck starts to rise. I turn around slowly & there's Mandy, all stoic & brooding, glaring at me. I'm trapped. With nowhere to run or hide, I take a deep breath & mutter,

'Hello Mandy. How have you been?'

'Fucking fascist!'

'Really??? It's been, what almost 10 years? Can we be just a wee bit mature?'

'I gave you a blow-job & you blew me off!!!'

'Technically it was half a blow-job. Your brother knocked on your bedroom door & you stopped.'

'It still counts!!!'

'You spray-painted BIFF on your bedroom wall. I freaked out & literally thought that you might broil a bunny rabbit or something!'

'I HOPE THAT YOU GET DICK CANCER & DIIIIIEEEEE!'

'Wow, dick cancer. Is that a technical term?'

'HA, HA, HA , HAAAA Fascist!'

And with that, she threw a beer bottle at my head. I ducked away from the bottle & it smashed up against the wall behind us. Almost instantly a bouncer promptly picked her up & carried her out of the club kicking & screaming.

I stood there a moment with my jaw dropped, just dumfounded. She was indeed a 'Fatal Attraction bunny broiler' & I felt like I had dodged a fucking cannonball in junior high. Just then one of my fraternity brothers caught up to me.

'Dude I pulled my balls out on the dance floor & technically at least 20 chicks touched them!'

When I told him about my psychotic encounter, he exclaimed;

'You know what they say about those psychos-Good sex, hard to get rid of!'

Indeed!

Ocean City Chronicles: Fight Song

Have you ever had to fight your way out of a situation? I'm talking about a sink or swim series of unfortunate events where physical violence was the only alternative. No rationalizing or cooler heads prevailing, you had to kick some ass or your ass was going to be kicked! The funny thing is that I never wondered how I'd react to this type of situation until I got a bar job in Ocean City.

My day job at the Beach Patrol paid well enough, but if you could find a job a few nights a week that paid you cash under the table, fed you free drinks, & still freed you up to hit on women would you take it? Well unless there was something mentally wrong with you from being hit in the head too many times with a tack hammer, fuck yes you would take it!

This very type of employment came my way in the form of a bouncing job at a dive bar called Spanglers(For those of you here were there with me & are calling shenanigans on this, I've obviously changed the bar name to protect the guilty, mainly me!!! I'm sure the statute of limitations has run out, but it's better to be safe than sorry bitches, Natch!). Our bouncing crew consisted of myself & some of my roommates & lifeguard buddies . To ake matters even better, my buddy Etzio(E-Z) was even hired on as a bartender. Booze & hook-ups were taken care of & all we had to do was check a few id's 98% of time time. The remainig 2% dealt with breaking up fights & a little of the ultraviolence. Let me tell you, that 2% was no joke! Before the Summer of '95, I'd been in a few scuffles, but I had no idea that my cake-ass night job was at Patrick Swayze's fucking 'Road House!!!'

One night in particular stands out & I still have the gap in-between 2 teeth in my lower jaw as a reminder to this very day! Every local bar had their own night for drink specials to keep the local alcoholic population drunk & happy. My crew & I worked at Spanglers every Wednesday & Sunday for their 50-cent draft night. You heard that right, 50-fucking-cent draft night. I think it's common knowledge that if you put a large gathering of college-age fucktards in a building & start shoveling cheap 50-cent beers down their gullet, that something bad can & normally will happen.

So Spanglers has a deck outside of the bar beside the bay that has tables & chairs out during lunch & dinner, but around 9pm we, the bouncing crew, have to shoo the patrons out of said chairs & tables as nicely as possible while the herds of of drunken, retarded, hormonal co-eds file into the bar to find oblivion at the bottom of a cheap plastic cup. Sometimes the dinner patrons didn't take too kindly of us lowly minions moving their precious seats & could be a wee bit belligerent. Normally they'd just bitch us out & threaten to, 'tell the manager' about our boorish behavior & how we 'ruined' their evening(Bear in mind most of these patrons were clearly finished with their dinners & just wanted to jockey for choice spots on the deck for the fucking drink special!). I don't know what the cosmic joke on me was that summer, but it always seemed like the biggest steroid abuser in the bar wearing a tank top(Any guy who's wearing a tank top in a bar at night is a fucking asshole! Go ahead & try to disprove this theory, I dare you!!!) would have to start some form of ruckus in my area. The night in question was obviously no exception & a particular dreg of humanity sporting a white tank top that said 'Bad Boy Club' across his chest(See my theory is proven yet again!) & tight acid washed jeans with combat boots. Oh yeah, he was also about 6'5 & 250 pounds & was clearly not happy with me, oh no not one bit!

'Why the fuck do you have to take our chairs you little bitch? Can't you see that I'm with my woman(Also, I almost fogot to menation, his 'woman' was a real catch who would've given Miss Piggy a run for her money, but I digress!)???!'

'I can see that, but we have to move out all of the tables & chairs now to make room for all of the patrons coming in for the drink special.'

'Fuck them & fuck you! We wuz here first!'

'I know that, but it doesn't work that way. We have to move all of the tables & chairs.'

'No!'

'What do you mean no???'

'I'm not letting you take our chairs! I stand for my job all day & you're not taking them!'

I was kind of bemused at this verbal volleyball, so I retorted:

'Well I sit at my day job all day lifeguarding & now I have to stand at this job. We all have to stand sometime buddy, so why don't you just let me take the chairs.'

Apparently this notion still did not compute with Dreg(Dreg is not this meathead's name, it just means, 'the least valuable part of anything' which I think describes this shithead to a T!) & he began jabbing his meaty index finger into my chest.

'I said no you little bitch!'

'Do not touch me.'

'What?'

'I said do not touch me!'

This is right about the time that my blood began to boil & my anger was just beginning to percolate. If you've spent any extended periods of time with me or drank with me, you'd know that this is very bad, or at least very bad for the person who my anger is directed towards.

Dreg then proceeded to punch me directly in the jaw.

I stumbled back on one knee & a low, gutteral growl started emanating from deep within my body. I defiantly stood back up & walked back over to Dreg, loooked up at him & smiled.

'You little asshole! I shit bigger tha---

KA-RAAAK!!!

My Father has given me multitudes of sage advice over the years, none ringing more true than these pearls of wisdom:

'If you ever find yourself in a fight with somebody who's much larger than you remember that these guys are probably not used to many people fighting back. When your opponent starts into his initial diatribe about how he's going to kick your ass, punch him as hard as you can directly in the nose. You will probably break his nose which will cause his eyes to water & next comes the disorientation. As he stumbles back, wrestle him to the gound & finish him off.'

The lovely comic book sound that you read in the previous paragraph was me making my Dad proud. I punched this meathead directly in the nose with all of the fury that I could muster. As he stumbled back I could hear him bellow,

'You broke my fucking nose!!!'

But it was too late. I was quite possibly the angriest that I have ever been in my life. My eyes rolled back into my head & I pounced on him much like a cheeta does chasing down a gazelle in the wild during a kill. I wrestled him to the ground & wrapped my legs around him & began repeatedly pummeling his face over & over with my fists.

Right around this time somebody yanked me of off Dreg by my ponytail & punched me in the face. Dreg had friends there. I was momentarily stunned, but the adrenaline & anger coursing through my veins kept me moving. I regained my balance, dodged the 2nd punch & then kicked my new protagonist in the balls. When he doubled over, I round-housed him in the face, knocking him to the floor. I was then able to get a glance at the rest of the bar which just happened to be in a full on brawl! Apparently Dreg's friends & my friends decided to join in on the fun which spead the voilence far & wide.

At this point of the fight, I had completely lost track of Dreg. He was no longer on the deck & I wasn't finished with him yet. I started punchinig & kicking my way through the bar in an anarchic, ultraviolent dance looking for my prey. All the while the dj was playing that god-awful Right Said Fred Song, 'I'm Too Sexy' which pissed me off even more. 'They had better not fuck with this animal!' I muttered as I gradually made it over to the dj booth & screamed,

'Turn this shit off & play me a fight song or I kick your ass next!!!'

Before I could say another word, I was hoisted up into the air & thrown down through a table. Dreg had caught me off guard. I was hurting & clearly seeing stars at that point, but then I heard a familiar baseline'

'Bam-Ba-Dam-Ba-Da-Bam-Bam!'

It was the opening to Motorhead's 'Ace of Spades.' I picked myself up out of the splintered rubble that used to be a hardwood table & could literally feel the music making me stronger!(Fun fact: Lemmy, the leadsinger of Motorhead was asked in an interview one time to describe his band's music & he said, 'Well if we moved next door to you, your lawn would die!' That my friends is why Lemmy is a god & you're not!). I charged Dreg & bulldogged him to the ground & wrapped myself around him much like the stingray looking monster did in the movie 'Alien' to it's victim's face & commenced to using his face as a punching bag again while simultaneaously trying to rip off his right ear(My good friend Reo once told me that you can rip a person's ear clean off of their head with 12 pounds of pressure. I wanted to see if this would work!). Dreg jumbed up, screamed & ran through a side door ripping it off of the hinges while I was still attached to his face playing 'Wipeout' with my fists. We spilled out onto the street with about a dozen people following us. Eventually, we were pulled apart & Dreg was twisty-tie cuffed to a telephone pole.

I spit some blood on the gound & said,

'Do you still want to keep your chair asshole!???'

This was around the time that I noticed I had a new space in-between 2 of my teeth on my lower jaw.

'Haw-haw! Exclaimed Dreg.

'Oh yeah, just wait till you take a look in the mirror pal! Your nose is about an inch further to left than when you woke up this morning!!!' Good luck getting laid the rest of this summer looking like Sloth from 'The Goonies!'

Defiantly I leaned down & looked him into his eyes & said,

'I did this to you!'

Exhausted, I walked back into the bar with a safe assumption that I was probably going to be arrested soon. I went into the back bathroom by the kitchen. My hands were still shaking from the previoius rush of adrenaline & the blood dripping off of them clearly was not my own. As I washed my hands I noticed in the mirror that I had a black eye & a cut on my chin, also my right hand was throbbing(I thought that I might have broken it, but later found out that it was just badly bruised). 'Well that should make for a pretty mug shot' I thought to myself as I wrapped my right hand with some silver duct-tape for support.

I walked back out to the deck bar & E-Z lined up some tequila shots for me. The irony of the situation was that it wasn't even 10pm yet, so I had to work for 3 more hours(I didn't really work. I just self-medicated with the free shots E-Z kept feeding me.)! I thought that Dreg had been arrested & that I was next, but as the night progessed, I was never taken away. It wasn't until the next day that I found out that Dreg & his cronies were actually local off-duty police officers! Apparently they were so embarrassed about participating in a near-riot where they got their asses handed to them, that they never wrote up a report. Everything was swept under the rug & the owners of the bar were actually happy with how we handled the situation. So to recap, I didn't get arrested or lose my cushy night job!

I still have the space between my teeth & haven't been in a fight of that caliber since. And oh yeah, I've mellowed out a bit!

Free beer tomorrow

Free beer tomorrow.