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Well hey there, ya TDC Enjoyer. My Lady is my Alpha and Omega, so she gets to choose the first song and the last video here in this post. I sense a somewhat odd fixation on the muscular black man physique.

Should I be worried? Or, perhaps tan more often?

God Help Us All.



This here is an extended weekend for most of you, with food and drink, friends and stories to tell, laughter and pleasurable pursuits like jet skis. I'm off to a pig roast with the family, and There Will Be Beer.

Hell Yeah.

These weekend posts are set on auto-post, so if the Oil Leak ends the world before Monday, then hopefully you'll have had yourself a good time beforehand.

In the future, in 2010, illegal space aliens will be the least of our worries.


Now let's check out the First Class of the First Day of School for some odd kid in Fuckno Californication back in the day. This was toward the end of the school year, when everyone had already made their pack of friends, and so I was a true loner.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

I sat in the back of the room of my first class. Kids entered after me in pairs, trios, or alone. I wanted to get a view of the room, and watch the way folks handled themselves here in this new school.

"Hey. Move your ass, preppie boy. You're in my seat." I was aware of a large person hovering over me. I smelled the pungent scent of Mennen Speed Stick "Gym Locker Urinal Cake" and looked up to see a Jock.

I grabbed my text book and Pee Chee folder and got up, moving to the seat on the left. I should have known that it was his desk. Its wooden surface had a deeply, angrily carved number, the one he was wearing on his football jersey. This was Gilbert Sullivan, a huge linebacker with curly black hair on his head, face and arms, and creeping out of his neckline.

He still stood there, glaring. "That's Jim's desk. Dooood. Better scat now."

Of course it was Jim's. Jim Dorrington turned out to be the J.V. quarterback. He drove a green '78 Ford Pinto that he thought was cool, and was restoring it in shop class. Hopefully he would reinforce the rear bumper.

I got back up and decided to get a drink of water.

When I came back in just before the bell, I saw a couple of empty desks toward the front. Great.

I walked in and headed to the front, and noticed a sudden quietude in the classroom from folks checking out the new kid.

"Hey everybody, look at me! I'm a loser who tranferred here at the end of the school year so that I can spend summertime alone! Yay!"

Of course I did not say that. I didn't have to.

I grabbed a desk by some dude with shaggy blond hair who wore shades inside. He didn't even say hi. I would've expect him to say something like, "Zoiks! Well hey there Scoob!"

The bell rang and the teacher wrote down attendance. Noting me, he smiled, but thankfully, did not perform the awful practice of declaring, "Everybody, let's say hello to the New Kid. Tell us about yourself, ya sorry fucking loser!"

On the other side of me was a guy with pens in a pocket protector in his short sleeved button down shirt.

In front of me was a girl with long blond hair. She had a cold.

This day was not turning out quite so well.

Hopefully it would get better.





This was English class, and what a way to begin the morning. Interesting that in our own country, we have to teach people how to speak and write their native language correcky.

Some folks were there against their will, judging by their snide remarks and constant snickering at the back of the class.

Yes, I was getting a good feel of this school, where it appeared that we were all underachievers.

Was I a snob?

No. But in moving to this new state, this new world, I was alone again, with no guide that had "Don't Panic" written on the front cover.

I would have to make my own way. Debrouillage. Cannucks said this when describing how you forage ahead, and find your new path in light of exceptional cirsumstance.

There is a difference between Forage and Forge. Never forget this.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Indeed, Joey met me for lunch, on the first day of school for me at McClane High in Fuckno, CA. Now remember, I had transferred from Roosevelt High on the southside to escape the certain fuckality of Muy Largo, back when he was not so "Largo."

Yeah, he would figure in my life many times, especially during the Punk Fight Story.

So would Flora Du Mal, that excellent bitch, who would go on to become the most awesome drug lordess in the history of Fresno.

But I digress.

Joey came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder.

"Will? Which group do you want to eat lunch with?" he asked me.

I looked around and replied, "that's a loaded question, huh. This seems to be important. Some kids are watching us."

Joey smiled. "Yup. Most are watching me, never forget that. But now it looks like you have some folks eyeing you."

What the fuck was this shit? I never have, nor ever will subscribe to the idea of The Clique. I am more of a Tribal sort of person.

And yet, this was something to consider. I must tell you here that this was a large part of the many reasons why I eventually bailed on the plasticity of Californication and headed back to Maine.

Everything was all about looks, cliques, and fame, you see.

Fuck That.

"Joey, I don't want to eat here. Let's go off grounds and find something good to eat."

Joey smiled and laughed. "That's very smart. Side-step the whole deal," he said, glancing around. "I know a good Thai place. My friend's dad owns it. Let's get the heck outta here."

In that last link, Unnecessary quotation "marks" change the meaning of "certain sentences." Picture someone using the "quote" hand signs over their head.

That restaraunt was where I met Katheena, the Thai chick. Her dad owned the place. He was a white dude, but had met her mom in Thailand during a certain war, and brought her state-side, and then they opened up this food joint, and had three kids. Two sons and one glorious hottie.

From there on, I would always enjoy Thai food, forever.





Next week, I'll fill you in on Katheena. (NSFW) She filled me in on the new scene.

I would've liked to have filled her in, wink wink, nudge nudge...


Now here is something new, following.


Antidote: From Dotta, she thinks I need to put this in here... God Bless Her.





Totally 80's tune, dude, from Dotta.




Now go grab a fresh brewskie, a charred burger or rib, and enjoy your freedom.




---willies out.
















Here's the end thing, from my Lady.