Hello, weiner

So, these few days past have been an absolute blur. work, sitting around, laying around, its been positively crazy. cant find any "me" time. to recap, ive had a goofy ass mustache for 3 days in order to make good on my awesome hulk hogan costume, which you wont be able to see unless youre able to find the pictures on about a half dozen random mexican-american's webpages. cause they loved me. a lot. I got several requests for photos and many more high fives. so, the story begins tonight, after i work all day in my costume. (hulk hogan, stricken with chronic malnourishment) all day, i sweat in the kitchen in my two shirts, head band, and SWEAT pants. I honestly think i should win a prize for dumbest fucking decision, wearing skin-tight SWEAT PANTS while standing in front of an over spitting out food at 400 degrees. so theres me, getting ass-sweats in front of little kids in ghost and fairy costumes, and as im bringing an order to the front, a little kid sees me coming, and SCREAMS. absolute terror, just lets fly with the most horrifying wail, and clutches his mother's leg. The mother, thinking ive provoked her son, gives me a withering glare, and quickly moves away from the front of the restaurant. The hulkster only wants to help, why wont anyone believe me?

so that was work, flash forward to me on austin's famed sixth street, tonight a place full of boozy, slutty, lame, awesome, and sexy people. never all at the same time, of course. Add to the equation my roomate and his girlfriend, both not 21, and you have a night of hijinx set up. we are walking down sixth street, and i randomly run into bars with no cover, drink one drink as fast as i can, and run out again, and move 100 feet in the crowd, repeat. as the night progresses, i get mistaken for big bird, and the edge from U2.
....someone wants to die tonight.
no one calls me the edge.
but, i let bygones be bygones, and let the incident slip, (but only after i call a really jewish looking john lennon guy "wierd al" to his face, passing on the bad, instant karma)
all in all, a fun night, i would have had a blast if i didnt have to have two tag-a-longs who couldnt even go inside to drink with me.

Oh, yeah, i forgot to mention. This is completely not made up. though i wish it was. Over the course of my 6th street adventure, i was walking through the crowd, and i had by ass pinched by a big, hulking black man.
three times. different guys each time. I swear this is true.
So, i guess thats a compliment, right?
...felt like it was...

All Fellow's Eve II

Well, im alive. Thank god for small favors. Although my head hurts and i have a carpet imprint on my face still. More later on that. The reason people would have wanted to beat me up was my costume. By no means a slip-shod, thrown-together affair, this costume was an effort of love from its conception over a year ago. well, the conception being at the time, i didnt have a full enough beard, and filed it away for next year. flash forward, Im bearded, and i can totally pull of what will be THE best costume fucking ever.. and now, dear friends, this is the man that i looked exactly like costumed



sans chef hat and big bowl of PASTAMANIA, of course. Im not that gay. i mean awesome. im not that AWESOME. So imagine me, if you can, a scrawny, non-musculatured, non-blonde stick with a horrible mustache and enough body hair to clog 5 drains dressed in red tights and a tiny yellow tshirt and a huge boa. This is one of the first years i havent looked in my closet and said...."hmmm, ill be a....zombie in an ugly shirt" I actually spent close to 50 dollars on this year. This is way more than ive spent on birthday presents for my whole family in a year. But thats just cause my handmade cards and Pine-cone birdfeeders are worth so much more than money. cause they're from the heart.
so the evening begins, and im a little bit tipsy cause i have the BEST JOB ever. Its a rarer day to have someone NOT say "hey, im running to the liquor store, wanna get drunk?". keep in mind, this is on the clock, in a costumer-centered workplace. so im a bit knackered by the time that my roomate comes home. he puts on his costume, which is arguably as gay as mine. hes a bandit. heres a re-enactment of how cool his costume is



So we set out for this b-day party at my managers house, as a way of saying "thanks for not firing me after catching me smoking that doob on my first week here" But, its not a costume party. Its a big, hetero, boozy dude-fest. I walk in, and even the crickets outside shut the fuck up and just stared at me. thankfully, no one wanted to kick my ass, or at least, tried to anyway. I quickly downed many glasses of their expensive liqour, cause, what the hell, im in tights, lets get fucked. soon, the party got a little too much. they were playing poker. POKER! how gauche. so we leave that, but not before i consume two hotdogs at dangerous speed. i honestly might have pickle relish in my lungs. Im gonna be fat soon. Awesome, then ill be able to do minimalistic dances, and look cool.

anyway, on to the next party. im feeling great, as the first glass of crown and coke starts to sink into my guts. we spend all our time driving around, not finding this place. ARRGH, im in party mode...for a bit. then, i start to have all the other 'C' and 'C's start to hit me. I know that this wont bode well if i continue in party mode, so before the other party of the night is commenced, i bow out gracefully. and by bow out gracefully, i mean stumble into my apartment, and end up lying on the floor; trying to stop the world from spinning. i wake up from i suppose passing out, and stumble my way to my room, stopping to check myself in the mirror. Vanity, thy name is steve. Anyway, I look like that village people guy. you know, the fruity one. yeah, him. except ive got a GIANT carpet rash on my face, and sprinkled intermittently through the redness are several pubes. (dont ask, suffice it to say, we need to invest in a vaccuum) the short and curlies are a quick fix, but as i type this, the next day, the distinct carpet impression is still fairly plain. That, coupled with the fact that the magic from my Hulk 'stasche has waned, and i look like the Edge, has led me to believe that i will perhaps never again know the caress of a woman. i know, i could shave my dirty Fu manchu that would better belong on a redneck, and everything would be right as rain. but halloween only comes once a year. so i think ill keep it for a while. At least until nascar stops being cool.

All Fellow's Eve

so, to let yall know why ive been beaten into a coma, i shall tell you in advance what will happen this evening. I will be beaten. Sharply. by many men who all agree im the gayest thing since nickelback. seriously, i look like a rainbow is fucking a marshmallow in the ass. THAT gay. And yet i still go out. party on, steve. will do.

more later

Bang!

So, i figured id start this little thing out with a bang. In this, i hope to shed some light on what i feel may be the bestest fucking enigma you may or may not have had the pleasure of knowing (or, if your a lady, the pleasure of creating the beast-with-two-backs with) That having been said in awkward prose, i give you my tonight...

-all day, sitting around bored to M F'in tears, so bored, in fact, that i CLEANED MY ROOM. This is a big deal. trust me. So many plans are made, and then crumble, so i decide to strike it on my own, as everyone i know cant hang with the awesome party-ness of the party-meister (my new nickname...well, no one calls me it....yet) I see in the paper that one of the few places that i know and dont feel ashamed and uncool in is having a "ladies music night" which i, regrettably, interpreted as "SLUT-FEST '06!" So i pay my "donation fee" to help "abused women" from "being abused", and get a cute little handstamp and a free cd of lady music, which i can only assume is full of asinine stand-up and watered down "real music" (just kidding ladies, you know the party-meister loves ya) . I sit, and i wait, and finally a band gets on stage, and i lean forward expectantly, knowing ill be rocked very soon.

WRONG! ive been rocked harder by chairs at cracker barrel. And, as an american, i jumped to the conclusion that this whole evening would be just another crummy music fest, so i decide to make like a tree, and exit SuckFest '06.

But what to do now?

..

...

lucky for me, there happens to be a gentlemans club next door. now, im not affluent by a long shot. each month i chew my nails to the root worrying about making rent. but i always have a little bit of dosh for a skanky evening. And since i couldnt have paid the girls at SuckFest to talk to me, I opted to find a place where i could.

so there i was, getting lavished attention on by many ...interesting looking women in various states of undress. Now, im not attractive. No, no, stop trying to tell me otherwise. im losing my hair, getting fat, and probably smeared with some kind of fast food. (ladies, i am available for a fun-filled night.) But in this place, i was adonis. seriously. there were so many sleazy, rear-end-ugly men there, i might as well have been holding a sign saying "please, ask me in very veiled-terms for my money" i sat at a table in the rear trying to reconcile my feelings for so casually letting myself drag the bottom of the barrel so early in the week. I get my SIX FUCKING DOLLAR BEER, and hope to just let time pass me by, but nearly immediatly, two lovely(ish) young(ish) ladies(...ish) come over and ask if i want company. not knowing this is code for "empty your wallet, and put it in our ass-crack", i said, "no, im cool." which is about the uncoolest thing you could say to that. honestly. they wander off, and another girl comes over to ply her wares...or so i think. she asks if this is my first time in a place like this, and i of course lie, and say, no, i never do this, this is all so new and frightening. and she buys it, and sits down on my lap and tells me all the ins-and-outs of proper ettiquette. Now, of course, this is all stuff i know cause im a dirty pervert, albeit and awkward one. I never really knew how a lot of these rules actually went, i just sat on my hands hoping no one would accuse me of raping them, which mostly works. but tonight, i want to find out the real things your sposta do to make girls pretend to like you. Step 1- have money. I fail, having paid two covers on the night, and a two-drink min. doesnt come as cheap as it should. step-2 no touching. unless its on the legs, not between the legs, on the back, no kissing, and other assorted nonsense. I pass this one, cause im awfully afraid theyre gonna get me beat up by a bouncer, so i make sure to only look them in the eyes, and keep my poker face on at all times to make them think i wont kill them in the parking lot. step-3 DO NOT ASK THEM QUESTIONS ON WHY THEY DO THIS. I didnt know, i wasnt trying to psycho-analyze, i just had made a new naked friend, and i wanted to know what made them tick. Apparently, some have a bit of shame left in them, and they dont like attention brought to the fact that they show their cooters for pocket change. but i didnt know, so i asked, and was treated with stony silence, cut short by her leaving to go do the mainstage, to the tune of "my immortal" by lady and the craptones. Strike two. Finally, this other girl comes up and just sits down. no pretense, no bullshit. no hounding for my money. her feet hurt. so she sits. the first respectable thing ive seen anyone do all night. she is chatting amicably, telling me about her life, places she frequents. (she goes to the same dive bars as me) and her goals and stuff. but shes not working me for cash. I know that this is the part where you expect me to say "so i asked her out, cause i love her" but that aint it. shes just a nice person...who asked me if i would be more comfortable if she pulled her boobies out. I reply coolly "its a free country, nah?"... in my head.

I actually say "buh....yeah, s'okay...bun....yeah" but whos keeping score?

We chat about the state of things, and she and i pretend not to notice an erection thats lurking, not out of arousal, but rather out of spite, cause my penis decided with all the abuse its been through, it will make me look bad at times. Eventually, she gets up to do the stage dance, and i stand by the stage, with two dallah' in my hand, waiting to repay her friendliness. I wait til its not awkward, and quickly stuff a couple 'a Georges into her underoos, and beat a hasty retreat to the door. i avoid eye-contact with the over-friendly doorman, and im free to go home and chastise my wiener for acting a fool.

did i mention im single?