” I think she is. Why don’t you check out her myspace page?” EvilNakedBaby responded.

He sent me over the link via IM and I acted like a pathetic online stalker wanting to take a peak into someone’s personal digital life. Who was this girl and why did EvilNakedBaby and Veronica want me to meet her so badly? Not certain. But just because I was in ‘available’ mode at the time did not mean any girl will easily please the complicated me. Still, curiosity caught up to me and I had a desire to know more about this Selena girl even though I was quite happy being a single individual.

I viewed her profile. Her profile pic was that of a cute Viet girl. I’ll be honest. Not bad. But first impression of her profile was that of annoyance. In addition to her pic she had cute little shit images here and there. Kinda San Rio. Kinda just gay. Kinda the type of images that pussies get tattooed on their bare bellies while sipping pink lemonade. That type of cute I was done running into.

I dug deeper into her myspace profile. In particular her photos. Among the images I came upon were some of her posing with some import cars. Rice rockets. Some of her sitting in the driver’s seat. Other pics of her standing next to them. Nothing import model like. But still, I’m not into that scene nor will I ever be. A car is a simple machine to me. If it gets me to point A to point B, I’m happy camper. Just because I’m Asian does not mean I’m automatically adopted into the import car scene. Fuck that.

” Sorry dude. Not my type of girl. ”

” Come on. Veronica already got her to come out tonight. Just meet us at Hooters. Just for dinner. If you don’t like her then that is that. Promise.”

EvilNakedBaby and I went back and forth for ten minutes. I even got a call from Veronica to convince me to meet up with them and Selena. I knew the whole purpose of the evening was for the two of us to meet and get to know each other. It was a really nice gesture from EvilNakedBaby and Veronica and I appreciate the possible hook up. I also realized I’ve probably made some immature assumptions on a stupid myspace profile. She may actually be a cool person with interesting stories and conversation. She may actually dig the same odd movies and music as I. She just may be a good fit for me and I wouldn’t truly know it unless I met her in person.

” Ok. I’ll meet you guys at Hooters. BUT I will go meet with coworkers for drinks at a bar right next to Hooters before hand. I’ve already made that engagement. Then I will meet this Selena girl.”

As soon as the work day ended, Happy Hour began and everyone in my work headed to the bar. I grabbed my favorite drinking hat, the scali cap, and met with everyone else. Then we fueled ourselves with liquor, beer, and anything else that intoxicated the mind. We laughed.No one cried. I looked at Christian and wanted to kick his fuckin ass but didn’t. I hate that guy. He is a douche. Love the hat

The ring leader of everyone for the night was a gentleman named Erlend. He was the VP of the company I worked for. He was a programmer, a very smart guy, a Norwegian, and the heaviest drinker I have ever come across. I have yet to come across anyone with a tolerance like his. A normal order would be a tall glass filled half way with ice and to the top with Johnny Walker Black Label. Sometimes 4 tall glasses in a given evening to please the man. But that’s just how he was. He was Norwegian and Norwegians can fuckin drink. In Norway the ladies give a natural birth in a bath full of vodka. In addition, Erlend also resembled the character Newman from Sienfield and was a gay. I always suspected he wanted me to put out my ass for him but I was always good at dodging his .57 Magnum.

Let’s get this clear. I am not gay nor am I a homophobe. Thank you.

My drink for the evening was Johnny Walker Black Label as well but in a smaller form. A smaller glass for the smaller guy. My plan was to drink just enough for a decent buzz, hang out with the coworkers, then meet this Selena girl. Thus, everyone was happy including me.

My phone rang.

” Dude, we’ll be at Hooters in 5 minutes. You’ll be there, right?” EvilNakedBaby said.

” Yup. Sounds good.”

I hung up the phone and walked up to Erlend. Told him I was making an exit stage left.

” What? You can’t be leaving just yet. Oh no. You have another drink. What could be better than hanging out with us?”

I explained the setup and the kind gesture from my friends to the man who so desperately wanted my company for the evening. But Erlend being gay and wanting to take advantage of my drunken ass can make everything roll his way somehow. He took my favorite scali cap and would not give it back. It was a childish action but at the same time working. Selena or not, I don’t dare to leave without my scali cap.

The waitress came by and Erlend demanded her to get me another glass of Johnny Walker Black Label. Being a lush I’m such a sucker for free drinks.

The phone goes off and it was an irate EvilNakedBaby.

“Where the hell are you? We’ve been waiting 20 minutes.”

I told him the VP took my scali cap and I don’t go anywhere without it. EvilNakedBaby told me to forget about it and that it was just a stupid cap. He also said it made me look like a newsie kid and I should deliver newspapers.

Fuck you, EvilNakedBaby.

It’s not just a stupid cap. It is thee fuckin cap. It’s my fuckin cap. And I like to drink when wearing my fuckin cap.

I hung up the phone and had to make a restroom visit. Due to my drunken state the trip took 20 minutes. Unknown as to why. It just did. I think I got lost for bit. But that is what happens sometimes when liquor flows through the mind like a flowing river and there are those riding the currents.

My phone rang again.

” Dude. I was just at the bar. Where the hell are you? I went up to your VP I think. He looked at me funny and said you weren’t here. I was pretty certain he was lying to me. I also think I saw him sitting on that stupid cap of yours. ”

I was confused. What the hell was going on? I always end learning the hard way the dangers of drinking recklessly and out of control.

I returned to the table of the other fellow drunks and sat next to Timmah who was having an awesome time to himself. Smoking a stogie in one hand and a Long Island Ice Tea in the other. Before me was another drink ordered by the infamous Erlend. Grinning he did a hand gesture for me to drink up.

” Erlend. I really really got to go. My friends are pissed at me. And this girl I’ve never met probably has little hope in me being a good guy. You want to ruin my good name?”

I tried to give the puppy dog sad look but instead a bloodshot drunken mess was upon me. There was no helping it. I was a horrid car accident.

” After that last drink. Then you can go. ”

Then my scali cap was suddenly sitting next to me. A promise is a promise. A drank my final drink, said my good byes, and exited the bar. It was time to meet up with EvilNakedBaby and Veronica. It was time to meet Selena for the first time.

Via the phone ” We’re done eating fool. We’re not at Hooters anymore but the bowling ally next door. Good job for showing up for dinner. Are you going to meet us there?”

I stumbled into the bowling ally yet I tried to keep my cool. Fueled with the Black Label I look around with my drunken eyes. Nothing but bodies everywhere going in every direction. It made me dizzy a bit. Then I saw EvilNakedBaby. Arms waving for me, I continued my stumble into his direction. I whispered in his ear.

“Dude, I am fucked up. I think this was a bad idea.”

“Man… You smell really really bad. Like a bottle was poured all over you.”

” You got any gum?”

“I don’t think gum will help.”

Just then Veronica and Selena appeared to our sides. I turned to the both of them with a horrible look on my face that only liquor can produce. I introduced myself as best as I could.

“You must be Selena. Nice to meet you.”

A wave of my whiskey scented cologne slammed into her face. She turned her head to get some fresh air.

An discomforting feeling came over me. Immediately I could tell my first impression was a really bad one. I ruined my chances already for missing dinner. But I just slit the throat of the cow at a slaughter house when showing up really late and wasted beyond repair. In addition, I can feel the disappointing stares of EvilNakedBaby and Veronica. Especially coming from Veronica. It was her friend. Her plan. I’m sure she expected us to go on a few dates, maybe fall in love, and live as a happy couple. But I was almost certain all those thoughts and dreams were off. It didn’t matter though. Nor did I care too much. I was beyond caring. I just wanted to carry on the night and remain single. Fuck import cars. That’s what I told myself. Fuck import cars. Like a true gentleman I wasn’t I asked:

” Who wants a drink? My treat.”

Everyone said no.

I took off to the bar and ordered myself a whiskey and coke. I then went into make small chat with Selena. Uninterested and 10 minutes into our lame conversation she gets a phone call.

” Hey. My brother just called. I got to go and help him with something.”

How convenient. But it was deserved. Well deserved. But again, I didn’t care.

She said her goodbye to everyone and left in hurry. EvilNakedBaby and Veronica was then left with intoxicated me sipping on my final drink for the night.

” Sooooooo… You guys hungry? Because I can’t drive and in dire need of some food. ”

EvilNakedBaby and Veronica were nice enough to accompany me to Bennigans. They sat across from me as I attempted to sober up to a deep fried fatty monte cristo sandwich.

Selena and I never crossed paths after that night. In addition, EvilNakedBaby and Veronica never attempted to hook me up with anyone else again.

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August 25th, 1995…

It was the opening night for the movie Desperado, the sequel to Robert Rodriguez’s indie breakthrough El Mariachi. I was pretty damn excited about this release. I admired the hard working ethic of Robert Rodriguez when making El Mariachi and I heard he applied the same to his new movie. I was also excited that Hollywood entrusted their money to a minority to make an action flick. Due to my rabid talk up of how bad ass Rodriguez is, I was able to put together a little group of Chumps on Parade to buy midnight showing tickets to Desperado in advanced.

The Chumps on Parade List:
Steve - A guy I’ve known since the 6th grade. He wouldn’t let me view his copy of the very first issue Nintendo Power magazine.
Conan - His real name was Brian but we called him Conan because of his striking resemblance to Conan O’Brien. I’m not shitting you! He looked exactly like Conan O’Brien.
Joe - I once threatened to kick his arse. Why? I really can’t remember but I could be a big jackass at times. I was a big jackass to Joe. Sorry Joe.
Mike Switzer aka Mantis Man - Because he can emulate being a human mantis [?!?!?!]
And Myself

Viewing of the movie was at midnight. So, us Chumps on Parade had plenty of time to waste and kill. Kill and waste. Waste and kill. We had nothing planned but to watch paint stick to my apartment wall. My roommate, an architecture student, then informed us of a party being thrown by one of his classmates. For my group of young imbeciles, that was considered a big green light for mass alcohol consumption. Bad ideal? Maybe. Did we consider the consequences of our action? Never. Aaah. The joys of being young and absolutely reckless. Or the pains of being a parent to one of these wreck loose kids.

Us, Chumps, entered the party. As we looked around we realized we were among a much more mature crowd then ourselves. These people had direction. These people were in a professional school working towards something. We were comprised of fresh guys in college still trying to figure out what our specialty was. What our niche to life was. What we would become to make it in the world. At that given moment we felt like a bunch of outcasts. Like that younger brother who wore black and eyeliner while all the other relatives wore flowers and smiles. And just like the outcasts at any party, we hogged a bottle of Vodka to ourselves and a carton of orange juice.

Screwdrivers… Plural

Up to this point my alcohol consumption comprised mainly of cheap beer and free beer but rarely in the form of liquor or mixed drinks. I wasn’t a virgin to the hard liquor but I wasn’t a pro at it either. It was, however, our weapon of choice for the evening. Sometimes I had a 1/2 and 1/2 mixed drink. Sometimes a little more orange juice. A lot of times a little more vodka. We weren’t professional bartenders by any means. But we knew the general recipe to a screwdriver. We were impressed at out skill at making a simple mixed drink. After a few glasses of our creation things got loose and we started to mingle with the crowd. At one point I tried to convince people that I was hanging out with thee Conan O’Brien. Brian\Conan tried to play along with my drunken arse but he’s not nearly as funny as the original nor was the crowd amused by my stupid attempt.

Upon looking at his watch, Joe brought up the fact that we had tickets to go see Desperado still. A killjoy thought at first but Joe was good at that. Being a killjoy. We realized we wanted to get our money’s worth. Looking at each other it seemed every one us were pretty shit-faced. Not a soul was in any real condition to drive the drive. I knew for a fact that I wasn’t. So, we decided to add one more to the Parade. Jimmy. My other roommate. I like to consider him the fat because he was fat and just got fatter during his college years. Luckily, he just got off of work from his Publix shift. So, he picked us up and we were off for the theater.

We arrived smelling like an airline pilot for Delta before, in between, and after a flight. We entered the theater and the lights were still on. Everything was cool up to this point. We took our seats and chilled out. Drunk. But chilled out. Soon the lights turned off and the previews began… As well as our downward spiral to utter drunken madness.

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to view a movie in the theater loaded on screwdrivers but movies don’t seem to be viewed in the same fashion. For one thing, there is a constant flicker going on with the picture against the screen. It was absolute maddening and nauseating. I got a theory on this resulting experience and feeling. Maybe I was drunk. Stupidly drunk. I don’t know. But I had to frequently look away to gain balance in my head. Whatever the cause, we were ALL getting very sick by this experience… Except for Jimmy. He was just plain fat and sober.

Joe got up from his seat. He was gone for about 5 minutes. Then he returned back only to get up again after a minute of trying to view the movie. The second time Steve followed his path.

I sat there trying to fight the feeling of utter sickness. But, you know, that feeling can’t be fought. It can’t. Eventually, everyone surrenders their guns and accepts the punishment at hand. I had decided to surrender and walked out of the theater. As I was passing the concession stand an usher stopped me.

“Whoa, man. Watch your step.”

Before me in front of the concession stand was a fairly large splash of vomit. Orange and vodka it smelled as well as a strong stench of stomach juice. My guess? Joe was what happened. I carefully walked around it and entered the rest area. Joe was so uncomfortably vomiting his life out in a stall. Steve was patting his back.

“I had to vomit, too,” Steve said as he comforted Joe like a homo.

“Cool…” I responded.

Then I took the stall next to them and I became a human tap of screwdriver mixture. Joe and I puked in harmony together. While puking in C sharp, an usher came in with a bucket and mop. I looked up at him. Then I continued my song.

When we returned to the theater [Yes... We returned] we sat down and attempted to finish what we started. Desperado. At this point the movie has begun. Not really certain what was going on in the movie. But some fireworks were about to be lit but not on the screen.

I looked over at Conan. He was watching the movie with his fist in front of his mouth. He looked very intense and into the scene… so I thought. I looked away. Then I looked back at him and his fist was now covered in vomit. He was trying to fight a bad fight and lost. Conan, then, puked loudly onto the theater floor with the crowd responding in a very unsatisfying manner.

“That dude just vomited!”

“Gross!”

“My god! It smells!”

Joe followed the moment by leaving for the stalls… again.

The vomit hitting the floor in the theater was our indication to leave. The crowd wasn’t enjoying our presence anyways. So, we gathered the Chumps on Parade and we left. Theater still smelling like vomit. Ushers left to clean our mess.

The vomiting didn’t end, however.

On the way back to my place we had to stop two times to let a couple of people out to continue wreckage. When we finally got to the apartment we all continued to some more… Except for Jimmy. He remained plain fat and sober.

Screwdrivers… Never again to be my weapon of choice…

Note: I just want to add this is my version of that drunken night. Each person involved has their own version apparently. In Steve’s version he had washer board abs and two, not one, brunette were repeatedly hitting on him. His version not mine. My version recalls no such event.

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Les Claypool plays bass and does the funky vocals that tickle the fanny. A lot of times he runs solo across the world on his side projects. Unfortunately, I have never seen him perform live on a solo run.

Well… Not a full set at least…

It was 2003. Excitement was brewing inside of my stomach. Actually alcohol was. Southern Comfort to be exact. And the same with McGregor and one of the most insane individuals I know, Jeff oh-so Fowler.

McGregor is a school buddy. We went to the same school for Computer Science and one of the most skilled programmers I know. He never went to class. He barely broke opened a book. And he would get a higher grade than me and most people on the exam. He smoked and drank and was hard to keep up with at times. I enjoy his toss out of caution. Always adds for a fun night.

Jeff is a tall white guy I hired while I was a supervisor at a plasma bank in Gainesville, FL. His unique personality and unusual thought process is what proceeded me to give a green light at his interview. He’s very verbose with his answers and responses to anything. They come out confusing yet thought provoking yet entertaining. He’s an open thinker. A free thinker. A person of raw energy. We both like to take life by the horns and ride it like a wild bull. He just takes it a few steps further than I would ever really want to. I have limits that Jeff is so brave enough to cross. Sometimes he crosses it out of curiosity. Sometimes he crosses it out of stupidity.

We had been pre-drinking the afternoon away as we were about to head out to see Les Claypool at Janus Landing. A very cool open-air venue in between the buildings of downtown St. Pete, FL. This would be my very first live show of Claypool after missing him countless times due to school or an exam or some scheduling conflict or a shitty ex-girlfriend. But not today. Today would be the day I would finally see Claypool go all out on stage.

As time was coming down we loaded up in my car. In addition to the three of us, we were going to meet another friend, Byron and his little band of minions, at the show as well. A fine crowd to what we hoped would be a grand show.

Now, out of the three in my party I had the least amount to drink. So, I was the DD for the trip over there [Don't do as I did in this story and drink and drive. Do what the others do and find a friend who is allergic to alcohol]. McGregor was in the passenger seat. Jeff was in the back seat. In his hand a plastic bottle full of Southern Comfort and Pepsi. CORRECTION. A plastic bottle that was mostly Southern Comfort and a drop of Pepsi. But McGregor and I didn’t realize it. Nor did we realize how much Jeff had to drink prior to leaving. It was almost half the bottle. All we knew was he was way too excited and a hyper mess in the back seat. The man was rambling loudly and speaking a lot of nonsense. The closer we got to downtown St. Pete the more his speech slurred. He kept spatting out random shit from his mouth. Random shit that made no sense. But at the same time, I thought Jeff was just being his usual self. I didn’t realize that Southern Comfort has taken over his blood stream.

We parked and decided to head to a bar first for some more pre-show drinks. Jeff took off and said he was going to go to the restrooms. McGregor and I ventured to The Lounge, a chilled out bar joint just around the corner from the venue. Very cool. Very mellow. We had a couple of drinks and bséd for a bit. After twenty minutes we realized Jeff was a no show from his potty run.

It’s not unusual for him to run off and never return. He’s done this to me quite a few times in the past. I usually end up finding him past out some god forsaken place. My worries on his disappearance was low.

We ventured off and found him conscious, thankfully, in front of Janus Landing talking to some girl who looked to be in a state of shock. She obviously was not inviting to Jeff’s presence. Here’s some tall white guy wreaking of alcohol. In addition, has become somewhat pale and was sweating bullets from the forehead while he wore a silly grin like a mercury infested mad hatter. He looked like a real nut case. I did the good deed and intervened between the two of them. She seemed relieved of my actions. He seemed too happy to notice he didn’t really score points on her.

” Dude! Dude! I’m fuckin loving this! I’m totally feeling this!” the hyper man-child kept saying as we entered Janus Landing. McGregor and I looked at each like with WTF expressions.

Jeff was constantly waving a fist in the air as if at a rugby sporting match. He would then go up to people and shake the hands with every possible person he came across. Each one greeted with his unusual words of wisdom. He almost seemed diplomatic if we were in a political setting of some sort. We let him be. He was enjoying himself way too much at this point.

Byron has never met Jeff before. I’ve spoken to Byron before and always told him that he had to meet Jeff. He’s one of the most unusual, entertaining people you will ever come across. A man of interesting thought and wit. A person that will leave a lasting indention in your head, positive or negative.

Unfortunately, tonight it would be a negative indention. BUT a memorable one.

We approached Byron and his crew of three and exchanged greetings like manly men.

I introduced Jeff, ” Hey guys. This is Jeff. ”

Jeff looked over to everyone. Pale. Sweat pouring from his four head. And a permanent drunken grin.

He said aloud to everyone and anyone, ” Dude. I just pissed myself. And I fuckin love it!”

The tone shifted to a ‘Awesome, great to see you’ vibe to an ‘My god! He just pissed his pants’. McGregor, Byron and his band of three, and myself look down at Jeff’s shorts to find a very visible soaked urine stain in the crotch. He wasn’t lying nor did I have doubts in Jeff’s statement. He really did piss his pants and there was no shame.

I could tell from the look on Byron’s face that he wasn’t too certain what to make of the man, the mystery, that was Jeff. In fact, I don’t know if anyone at that given moment could make any sense of him. Other than he was way too drunk to be out in a social setting and almost a public embarrassment.

Just then Jeff bended forward and released the inner fillings of his stomach onto the floor.

Byron and his crew said ‘cya immediately while McGregor and I ventured to Jeff’s aid. We got the man some water and we sat him down on the side. People were looking at us. Some with disgust. Some with concern. While nursing the poor drunken man the show began.

Claypool was on stage in an all out safari outfit doing what he does best. Fiddle the bass.

Jeff was doing what he does best. Being out of his mind. Drunk. And, well, almost unconscious.

A security guard approached us and told us he had to leave. That translated more so to ‘We’ had to leave. And not later. Not after a few songs. But NOW. Immediately.

We looked down at the poor guy and water was not going to make him feel better. He was extremely pale at this point and a sweating mess. His clothes were soaked from both his pores and own piss. The fucker was going through some really bad alcohol poisoning. Really bad. He did, after all, piss his pants and enjoyed the soilage. I don’t know many people that would consider that a positive thrill. Well, I have seen two girls and cup and I guess there’s a thrill for everyone out there.

Sick people.

Knowing Jeff needed some immediate medical care we carried him out of Janus Landing. Claypool at this point only played two or three songs. but it didn’t matter. We needed to get Jeff to the hospital fast.

McGregor and I carried his ass into the emergency room. Nurses came and took him away. They knew immediately what went down. More so, they could smell what went down. Alocohol. Lots of it. And piss.

I’ve never had to take anyone to the emergency room. I took myself once because I had gastroenteritis one time. But I recovered. Jeff had alcohol poisoning and was in the worst possible condition I’ve ever seen him in. I’ve seen him down a lot of alcohol before but this was way past any limit I’ve seen him in. McGregor and I were within the same thought.

” I hope that fucker doesn’t die. ”

After a couple of hours, a nurse comes to us. We both get up immediately to ask if our friend was alright. she looked at us sternly.

” He was in bad shape alright. We had to give him two bags of IV. But I think he’s going to be ok. When he gained consciousness I asked for his name and he kept saying ‘My name is Abdul Ja-Marhi. I am from Afghanistan.You must let me go at once.’ He refused to give me his real name. What is his name?”

McGregor and I looked at each other. Yeah, the pisser was going to be alright. But what a scare he put us through. We provided the nurse his real name and all. Jeff was just trying to get out of paying for a hospital visit. I’m sure he would have to sneaked out of the hospital if he could.

We left him at the hospital for a couple more hours to recover while we went back to the bar for a few more drinks. We figured we’d make the most of the evening despite the errors of our friend.

I may have missed Les Claypool but Jeff lives on. I got another chance to see Les Claypool though. March 4th at the Variety Playhouse in Atlanta, GA. Jeff do not join me on this venture. Thus, I was guaranteed to see the full set.

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