Saturday, June 23, 2007

Joanne, I am sorry I accused you of being spam.

I only thoughted you were Spam because I had just received, a mere ten minutes before your comment popped up, a long, psychotic, rambling comment about God, conspiracies, public health and medical experiments from some benighted soul in Brazil. At first glance I said to myself 'Self, this is more of the same'. But I was wrong. Wrong, wrong wrong.
So very wrong.
I'm also really embarrassed. I shoulda not been so quick on the 'post comment' trigger.

Joanne, you are not Spam, and you are always welcome here.
...and now, on to our main feature...

Things with The Dishrag went from pathetic to pathetic, deranged and violent in short order during the last month were lived together. The final straw came after I found out where he'd been spending all his time. I thought he'd been going to work, waiting tables for the dinner shift at a local nightclub, and closing the place out. Supposedly that explained the strange hours he was keeping.
After The Dishrag had gone missing for two days without a word, I happened to look out my kitchen window early one morning. There he was in the park across the street, dressed in the same clothes I'd seen him in last, minus shoes...filthy, staggering, obviously in some kind of an altered state and accompanied by several street people.


I arranged for a truck.

The next morning I was still running on pure adrenaline. I couldn't sleep and I couldn't eat a thing; I was so freaked out by having just a. found out that the person I'd been living with had been lying to me about having a job and was in fact an honest-to-snot druggie street freak, and b. performed the worlds' fastest bug-out.

It was in this state that I was sitting (vibrating, chainsmoking, talking nonstop) on the couch in my buddy Sonnyboy's place when a visitor arrived at the door. It was a friend of Sonnyboys, and she'd just been in a motorcycle accident. A laydown. And she'd been wearing shorts.

While she and Sonnyboy conversed I marvelled at her injuries. Basically, all the skin on the streetside leg had been grated away when the bike went into it's slide and used her as a brakepad...and the inside of the other leg had been burned all the way down the inside of the calf when it fell against the heatshield of the exhaust. I was amazed that she was still able to walk.
"Oh yes!" she grinned, and brushed at the peeled side. A piece of gravel fell to the floor. "They got out all they could at the emergency ward and they told me that over the next few weeks more would probably come out by itself, but I'll probably have gravel in there for the rest of my life" she explained cheerfully.

Well, she left. Sonnyboy and I sat and expressed our amazement.
Another knock sounded at the door.
It was Eldest Brother Meadows.
Sonnyboy practically drug him inside by the chest hair and threw him against the wall.
"I know you did that" he accused.

"Wow!", I marvelled, settling in to watch. I'd never seen Sonnyboy angry before. Not even irritated. This was way more entertaining than living with the Dishrag!

Eldest Brother cringed and whined. " Well, she wouldn't have anything to do with me after I'd taken her out and everything! I mean, I spent a lot of money on her!" He explained.

Sonnyboy and he puffed and blew at each other for a couple of seconds.

"You had no right to do that. She's got a kid! That was really stupid of you," Sonnyboy continued angrily. "And what are you doing over here? She doesn't want to see you! Did you expect her to change her mind or something? Does she know you had anything to do with her accident?"

I was getting lost.

" could she? But I thought maybe she'd be, you know, willing to give me another chance or, um..."

Oh yeah, I was lost. The timing was off, for one thing. Ms. Motorcycle Injury's big adventure had occurred the day before, while Eldest Brother, Sonnyboy and I were busy moving my stuff from my apartment. We'd been together for the entire day, from 6: am on until about 10:oo that evening. So how could he have...?

I asked Sonnyboy once Eldest Brother had left. "What did he do, fuck with her bike or something? Did a friend of his run her off the road? What?" I was fascinated. I'd partied with Eldest brother years before, while Sonnyboy and I were dating and 'violent' was not the impression I'd been left with then. Perma-fried, prone to hallucinations, needed to get out more, yeah... I mean, the guy was such a brown-rice hippie he humane trapped the mice in his kitchen.

"Have you ever read Journey to Ixtlan?" Sonnyboy replied calmly. Then he just sat there and gave me this smug little smile.
"Oh come on. Oh please."
Same expression.
" Do not fuck with me. You know what I've just been through."
Same expression.
"...Ok. You mean you really think he somehow mentally caused her to crash her motorcycle or something?" I was laughing. "Wooooo! Psychic planet waves! Please. I mean, come on. That guy?"

Sonnyboy just shook his head. "He can do things. That's all I'm saying."

Right then is when I should have run out, bought a copy of the paper and started looking for 'Roomates Wanted Milwaukie Area' . Sadly, I did not.
These people were NUTS. I couldn't wait to see what happened next.

And I did.
No place to live? Check. No expectations of earning any money? Check.
Time to throw a party for everyone you know!

Eldest Brother reached across and threw open the passengers side door of his pickup truck. I hesitated, because...well, it was Eldest Brother, after all, and I'd just learned that he had inexplicable psychic telekinetic motorcycle causing to have wreckingness powers.
-And he was ooky.

But there sitting next to him, greeting me with a big ol' goofy smile was his dog Laddie, wagging and happy to see me! What a good boy! Everyone knows, mean people don't own nice dogs, right?

Anyway I needed to get my money where the beer was at so I hopped in, made sure my shorts were covering everything, and off we went.

As we drove up the street Laddie stood up, turned around, put his ass in my face, slapped me with his tail a few times, then rearranged himself, knocked the rearview mirror off the windshield and clambered up into my lap so he could put his head out the window.
Having a lit cigarette, this was alarming.
Being a large dog, this was uncomfortable.
Being a large dog with intact testicles, this also meant that I got bapped in the side of the face with this dogs' giant hairy dick every time the truck hit a pothole.

I tried to push him away and he just sat down. Now I had a giant warm dog dick, two giant warm dog balls and a giant warm puckering dog asshole on the bare skin of my legs.
Then he started licking my face.
"I guess he likes you!" said Eldest Brother.
I had already suspected as much, in fact. When we got out of the truck, sure enough, Laddie was sporting a big ol' dog hardon.

He jumped up in the window and commenced barking while we walked away, his appendage blooping out in time with each "Arf!' like a pointy red cucumber. As we walked around in the store all the other customers kept looking out the windows going 'Jesus; whose dog is that?" I was trying to look like a cat person. Eldest was cracking up.

Because this was a small town there was no way I could sit in the box without us being pulled over. There was no way Laddie could ride back there because he'd jump out. So we all crammed into the front seat for the ride back. This time I threw an arm around Laddie's shoulders and held his collar with the other to make him stay in his own space. True, as he sat there and panted the cucumber kept poking out to say 'Hi!' but I kept ignoring it. At least it wasn't stuck to my leg.

As I was getting the beer out of the back of the truck I happened to look into the cab and there was Laddie, good boy Laddie, standing on the seat, slurping, wagging his tail.
At first I thought Eldest Brother had given him a treat and he was eating it.
But no.
No, Laddie was busy licking the seat. Where I'd been sitting.
I stared at this frozen in utter revulsion.
Eldest grinned back at me. "You know what they say..." he began.
" That your dog is fucking disgusting?" I replied.
" No." he smiled. " Like master, like dog."
And he drove away.

Kelvin was Eldest Brother's younger brother, one of the most messed-up people I have ever met and a testament to the psychological impact of environmental dysfunction. Yet even though he had more than enough material resources to work with he knowingly refused to better his lot, determined to remain a creepy, perverted loser dipshit.

Because he worked nights the only women Kelvin saw were exotic dancers and elderly truckstop waitresses. And none of them so far had been so desperate as to let him come close enough to touch anything, which explained by Kelvin spent so much time touching himself. Or maybe vicey voicey.
Anyway. He had a collection of porn that he kept locked in the trunk of his car# that he'd pull out and bring in if there was a gathering going on...his idea of appropriate. He'd pass out stacks of the stuff to everyone in the room, chortling like Scrooge McDuck doing the backstroke in his Money Bin, and people would sit and look at each other just completely incredulous at this guy's cluelessness.

He read these things until he wore the shine off the pages, cover to cover. One of the things that had caught his eye was a new invention that he was eager to ask someone about.
That someone was me. A few beers into it he finally stammered out " Do you like aftershave?"
I looked at him.
" I mean, not for you to wear, but for me to wear. Or for anyone to wear. Men, I mean. For men to wear. Do you think it smells good?"
I said yes.
" Ok, then so, have you ever heard of this new stuff called Andron?" he asked, and turned red up to the tips of his ears.

Oh yes, I'd heard of Andron, as had everyone in the room, and we all cracked up laughing. This stuff had recently been in the news, in fact, the supposed 'discovery' of a male pheromone that attracted women like bees to honey ! Women were powerless against it's allure! It made men IRRESISTIBLE! IT WAS SCIENCE!!

While we hooted and joked Kelvin heatedly argued in favor of this magic potion, until he became so angry that he gathered up all his porn and stomped out.
Turns out, Kelvin had already bought some.

It was 35.00 the bottle back then, and that was in 1970's dollars, so considering this guy was too Dutch to even pay for his own clothes it said something about his level of desperation.*
How did we know? Oh, we figured this out the next time he came strutting in wearing a brand new jacket.
" Take a look! It's leather! This was a hundred dollars! I call this my 'pussy gettin' jacket!" he announced.
The paint on the ceiling began to blister. In the distance, dogs began to howl.

He had soaked his brand new, 100$ jacket in Andron.

I mean, he had unscrewed the cap and dumped some in each pocket and squashed it around, poured some more in a line around the inside of the collar and the cuffs, and then sprayed the entire inside and outside surfaces with this stuff. You could see the oilstains it left.

He'd only taken one turn around the living room before everyone kicked him out. He went and sat in his car and sulked and read Penthouse by himself while the paint on all the body panels began to bubble and run.
And it? Anyone remember what Andron smelled like?
Andron smelled like lime soaked assfoot.
After an hour the lime wore off. Then the assfoot portion got sockier**. And the warmer it got, the bigger and sweatier and nastier and funkier those invisible, evil assfeet-socks got till you had toes all in your hair and the whole place smelled like an outhouse full of barefoot ass foot socks and your eyes were watering and you couldn't stop sneezing.

Perhaps that was the secret of Andron. It stupified its intended victims though lack of oxygen.

# why? to keep his father from stealing it.

*not to mention his poor thinking skills. the going price for street ass back in 1970's oregon was something like 20.00 and it's not like there was a shortage.

**You could not wash the shit out because it was an oil...and trying ruined the washer and dryer and everything in it then and for the next few loads. This shit was AMAZING. It was like skunk. And like skunk, the only way you could cut it was with vinegar and tomato juice. I had to run all my clothes through the washer twice with a full quart of Snap-E-Tom and Heinz cider vinegar together just to get the shit out, then hang it on the line.


  1. So Andron was his sort of chloroform then to fell his victims?

  2. Oh my God, in any other person's story the red rocket dog would have been the worst bit, but on no, not yours.

    And what is the deal with the magical thinking books rebounding lately? I mean, "The Secret"? Come on, the only secret there is how to con a bunch of idiots out of a wad of cash. I can't believe the author had the cojones to say that the people who got killed in 9/11 were attracted to the place because of their bad vibes. Yeah, they just decided to get a job and work there for 12 years because of their bad vibes, just waiting for a plane to go into the building. I'd like to set the author in the middle of the 9/11 families and then tell the families to feel free to beat the crap out of her, and then we'll see how well her positive thinking protects her.

    Next thing you know, they'll re-issue "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" and then I will have to start killing people.

  3. You definately know some interesting people...all I know are the whiny drunks. I need to meet some more interesting souls.

  4. g: ..yeah, with laughter.

    fatty: oh you have GOT to be kidding. please no. nothing like a combination of bad taste and faulty thinking to make those dollars come rolling in. jesus; i hope the author gets hit by a bus.

    gale: this was leftover from a series i did awhile back on the whole Meadows family. i lived with them for a few months when i was 19 and i gained a whole lifetime of experience in SICK.

  5. Listen to what So ( has to say on his review of Men's Colognes the the hornymone laced ANDRON.

    "I found the pheromone concoction by Jovan called Andron to be the most effective scent I ever wore.

    I swear, women three people ahead of me in the check out lines at supermarkets would turn around to engage me in conversation. I have also had them follow me around supermarkets and literally "Bump into me!"

    The produce counter became a life raft as the female Sharks would circle my position probably without even knowing why they were being so bold.

    I am fortunate to be one of those people whom women find attractive, with or without the pheromones. I choose to wear it when I go out socially to meet women, because it improves my self confidence. But without my beloved Andron, I have to do the approaching most of the time.

    I miss all those aggressive women"

  6. "vinegar and tomato juice"
    does this work for any kind of annoyance that you want to shift?

  7. homoE: *kaff hack bullshit cough*
    yeah, right. for a brief while in the 70's everyplace you went smelled like Andron (and Charlie). we goils used to call it 'Ass-dron'. GAAAH, the reek!
    now, Chaz, say, or Drakkar Noir, on the other hand...
    *drooling, twitching, making yummy noises*

    ziggi: yes. everyone in america carries an emergency kit containing tomato juice and vinnegar in their cars in case they run into a tax audit or a freak tornado or a heavy metal drummer or something. its like MAGIC.

  8. "fatty: oh you have GOT to be kidding. please no. nothing like a combination of bad taste and faulty thinking to make those dollars come rolling in. jesus; i hope the author gets hit by a bus."

    I couldn't believe it either, when I read about it. It's been on "Oprah," so you know the general public lapped it up. Faith healing for fuckwits, is what it is.

    You can read about e-mail interviews with the author, and see what kind of crap this is here and here.

    "The Secret" is the fastest selling self-help book ever, and the sales just keep rolling in. Every time I think "You know, maybe people aren't the stupid cunts I think they are," something like this comes up. That right there should debunk the power of positive thinking.

  9. Oh my lordy me. All of this story amazed me and entertained me. You nearly lost me when we got to the dog licking the seat. I am glad i hung on though - i now know what a 'pussy getting' jacket is. i just wish i could have a sniff of it...

  10. "trying to look like a cat person."

    genius. on a stick. in a bun. with mustard.

  11. Wow, just amazingly insane. It's a wonder no one liked Kelvin, isn't it?

    Also, i am impressed with your determination to try and wash out the stink from your clothes. I probably would have just thrown them out if it didn't come out the first time.

    Though, being totally broke does inspire you to find a way to do anything, doesn't it.

  12. Anonymous8:21 AM

    i could have sworn i left a comment, but i guess i didn't. and since i'm sure whatever comment i would have left would have been witty and stunning, i can't recreate it, so i'll just say...

    dang, fn! and i thought the people around me were oddballs.

  13. I just had to read all of this. Now I'm late for work.

  14. wow - just made up my emergency V&TJ kit - that's obviously what happened to Keith Moon then.

    I think M the Elder was probably into cosmic ordering then - ahead of the game no less, are you sure he was a Meadows?

  15. Anonymous6:24 PM

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  16. mad've got mad skilzzz, sugar...

    a woamn i know called me up to tell me about that..the secret, i mean...i couldn't believe 1. that she thought i'd care and 2. that she called me up to tell me, anyway...i pretty much told her what i thought...she said i was negative..i said she was right, in fact, i was POSTIVE i was *snickering*

    she hasn't spoken to me since... aint life grand?

  17. found your blog through "Post of the Week Shortlist" Love your writing. This post had me cracking up! The dog, EWWW!! Huh,, I thought that whole "The Secret" business was a bunch of bull..didn't know it was EVIL!
    Ahh...and as for men's cologne.. my kryptonite is Emporio Armani..mmm

  18. It's funny how Castenada got into the back of the brain and started all sorts of little resonances. It took me years of not reading him before I stopped getting the sort of little jolt you had.


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  21. Today's Andron is Axe. Mrs. Nator's teenaged nephew positively soaks himself in it. It reeks.

    Poor pathetic hormonal boys and their desperate yearning for nooky. Not that I didn't wear Old Spice for a while, myself...

  22. fatty: p.t.barnum WAS RIGHT.

    junglyjane: girl, when i think of some of the nasty gnarly pictures you put up at your place...? actually i'm complimented. huh.

    cb: wasn't easy covered in dog hair, either.

    claire: dang right. thems the only clothes i had!

    pink: oh, don't worry....they are. think of milwaukie as a lil' slice o dixie. with a dead fly stuck in the frosting.

    tick: oh crap! hurry! go! leave!

    ziggi: if he was telekinitic, it didn't extend as far as keeping his pants from sliding halfway down his ass all the time.
    no, wait; you're right, he WAS ahead of his time, at least fashion-wise! wow!

    anon: dont' care.

    savannah: they say delivery is everything. you must have 'bite me' down to a science! go you!

    kingeryFB: welcome welcome! i'm doing my best to avoid 'the secret'. flavor of the month self-help...yaaaaaaaaawn. and thank you!

    sopwith: did you read the other books in the series? hell, they were entertaining. i can't believe people were suprised when it came out that it was a hoax...crap, i 'd always assumed it was fiction.

    cb: well, dang. thanks, 'post' people!

    danator: oh boy are YOU GONNA LOVE the post i just did. you coulda mentioned all this sooner, you know. (Old Spice? you east coast lavenders were so not with it! White Shoulders, baby!)

  23. FN, I read them all, and still have them, and yes, I also assumed they were fiction, but it was an engaging fiction. If only it were true...

  24. I've just installed iStripper, so I can watch the hottest virtual strippers on my desktop.