Month: June 2018

The Stranded and The Strange

My Wife and I were on our way home Sunday evening, and 2 hours from home (just short of the State Line) started acting up.

We stopped briefly to let the Dog make a shirt in the dirt, and when we got back in the car wouldn’t turn over though it was trying. So we luckily added Road Side Assistance to my Auto Insurance Policy so I didn’t feel real shitty about the car being problematic. We called the Insurance Company only to find out that they can’t tow the car until tomorrow, AND they had a asinine NO DOGS in Truck Rule. What that meant was I could get my car home yet my Wife and I were still stuck looking for a way home.

There is always one person you can rely on and thats your Mother. Unless Your Me. I couldn’t reach my Mother by phone or text, so I decided to continue texting. She finally responded by informing me she couldn’t talk (though she was made well aware that this was an emergency situation) but hey good luck and keep your chin up. Apparently what I have learned along the way this time is my ENTIRE FUCKING FAMILY HAS NO IDEA WHAT THE DEFINITION OF AN EMERGENCY IS. They seem to think an Emergency is the exact same as a Favor. At that point I stopped trying to communicate with her.

Being that we live in a rather Rural area there are NO BUSES, TRAINS, SUB WAYS or TAXI/CAR SERVICES. All I could think of was to try Uber in spite of my opinion of Uber which was and is its a good idea on Paper, BUT with the World’s shittiest Real Life Application. Since like I said we live out in the fucking Woods there was only ONE SINGLE UBER DRIVER in the ENTIRE COUNTY. We scheduled the Uber but when she showed up she immediately informed us she WOULD NOT take us to our actual destination because it was to far for her. I already being an Uber Hater felt even more justified in my disgust of all things Uber.

Since as I said having limited choices of just one We took the Uber Driver up on her offer to give us a lift about an hour down the road which was better than nothing which we had in spades. The ride ended when We ended up AT South of the Boarder the Timelessly Racist Truck Stop meets a Motel, Mall, and Attractions (i.e. Live Reptiles and the Famous Sombrero Tower). The Uber Driver was absolutely awe struck by all the Tacky Tourist Neon Lighting that lit up South of The Boarder like a Poor White Trash version of Vegas.

Again I started an attempt once again to try and get a ride from my Mother who continued to ask if we had though of, and then went on to describe every fucking scenario to see if we actually had. Desperately I tried not to curse Her out for her interpretation of what an Emergency is. All I’m saying is if you fucking fall off a fucking ladder, and call 911 your not asking them for a favor.

My Mother is fixated then on utterly pointless points saying We should get a Hotel room, and I told her that the RIDE emergency would be the SAME the next morning as WE WOULD STILL BE STRANDED. There wouldn’t be any New Options springing up over fucking night or anything.

The Uber Driver started to feel a bit guilty, but I think she actually felt shitty about dropping us off still up the Shit’s Creek without a Paddle. Well whatever her reasoning was she offered to drive us another 46 miles down the road to the next town putting us about 100 miles or so from Our Home Office. We obviously agree and thank her because the cliche was ringing true in “Something is better than nothing”.

The Driver called to Uber Office because it wouldn’t allow her to sign on and accept the ride. She proceeded to launch into a interesting debate with the Uber Office Rep that lasted the better part of an hour. She was one of those cell phone types that likes to talk on her phone while its on speaker so I was privy to BOTH sides of the Argument as it were.

Long story short Our Driver had crossed a State Line which made Her exempt from accepting Uber Calls, and there was absolutely NO WAY around it. This was kind of fucked as our Driver pointed out the original call Uber sent her way was over a state line so why would they NOW make an issue of it (Point being bottom line some Asshole at Uber has no fucking clue about Geography local or otherwise, and is apparently too stupid to utilize a GPS or an Old School Paper Map)

When it was all said and done We settled on the Ride down the Road for $20 cash and called it a night. FUCK UBER (Not the Drivers mind you). As We got in the car I shot my Mother a text letting her know the current state of affairs, and she texted me back to give her a call when we arrived at our next destination. Our next destination was the Red Roofie Inn we had our Uber Driver drop us at, thanked her for her help, and she drove off into the night.

Luckily for us We had called ahead just in case to make sure the Red Roofie Inn took Dogs and had a Vacancy  which they did. Before totally giving up we hit up Uber one more time, and we were in luck there were 3 Uber Drivers  in this County so that was a definite plus. We caught another break when one of said in area Uber came by to discuss if we could broker a ride (Apparently Drivers can say no to Dogs which is their right its I just don’t know why Uber doesn’t tell them up front.)

BOTTOMLINE: Uber is Unreliable because No Ride is Guaranteed due to World Class Shitty Communication between Uber and its Drivers.

This Uber Driver’s usual Van was in the Shop so she had a hell of a Loaner, I’m not a car guy by any means so I don’t remember the name, but this car had ALL these Dope  bells and whistles. This time we got a Driver who was born for Uber like she walked right out of a Uber Ad itself. To say she was an enthusiastic driver would be a horrendous understatement. So off we sped into the night breathing a massive sigh of relief. Then I got a Text.

You see my Mother had requested that I text her when I arrived at our latest destination, but I forgot because at that point what was the point really. The text was asking where we were, and I texted back we had caught an another Uber and were in route to our Home Office. She then announces that she is on her way having taken 3 and a half hours of aggravation to suit up in her armor, mount her white Horse and fucking help us.

I showed the Text to my Wife because at this point I just didn’t give a fuck about anything other than we were finally on our way back to our Home Offices. My Wife texted with my Mother and arranged for us to meet up with her at a designated exit at a Gas Station. We arrived and thanked our awesome Uber Driver and loaded up into my Mother’s Car.

I don’t remember the ride as I tuned my Mother out being that I was still confused, frustrated, and angry that this whole shit show came full circle after HOURS of unnecessary stress. We finally arrived at our Home Offices at 1:37 am instead of our original ETA of 9:00 pm.

Alls Well that Ends Well I suppose.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober  

Idiot Ian the Tow Truck Schmuck

My car took a shit on me 2 hours (and just short of the State Line) from My Home Office. At first it was no Big Deal as I just called up My Auto Insurance Company’s Road Side Assistance for a helping hand. They sent a Tow Truck Driver over who jumped the car which came alive in an instant, and my Wife and I went on our way.

One exist down the road the Car absolutely shit the bed. Lights didn’t work neither did the gauges as it was apparent that the Alternator had up and Died. We pulled over on an industrial side road, and set up a Tow for the next morning as it was 8:30 pm on a Sunday in The Southern Country.

The following Morning We had decided to have the Car towed to a near by shop where it broke down since towing it to our usual mechanic shop would cost around $300. My Wife called up the Auto Insurance Company, and gave them the new tow info. They said that they would dispatch a Driver, and that if he had any questions that he would contact us. And boy did he.

The Tow Truck Driver was named Ian, and over the course of 4 or 5 phone calls Ian couldn’t follow a single direction my Wife gave him. Now for those wondering I have no idea why he wasn’t using GPS. He finally admitted once again that he was STILL on the WRONG Road, and that he’d call back if he couldn’t get himself turned around. We finally got a text confirmation from Ian that he had dropped the Car off at the specified Mechanic Shop.

After a while We got curious as to why we hadn’t heard from the Mechanic yet so being pro active We called Him. What he said blew my fucking mind. The Car in spite of Ian’s fucking text WASN’T THERE. Affectively my Car was now lost in some shit town 2 hours away across state lines.

We immediately called our Insurance company who called the Tow company (as the said Tow company like all others was contracted with my Insurance company) to find out what the hell happened.

What had happened was this. The Mechanic we were using had 5 separate locations in the area all called Timber Auto, AND the one We had our Car Towed to (WHICH was a recommendation from our Insurance Company) had been sold. The new owners were called Martinez Mechanic Shop.

NOW Ian the Asshole Tow Truck Driver could have called his Dispatcher, The Insurance Company OR Us to inquire what was going on because obviously theres something wrong. Ian in his infinite idiocy CALLED NO ONE and just dumped my Car there no if ands or buts.

The Insurance Company arranged for Asinine Ian to go fix his fuck up by retrieving my Car from where he left it and tow it to the actual Mechanic we were using. AGAIN after a couple of hours We again hadn’t heard shit from the Mechanic so I called him once again.

The Mechanic said he hadn’t had any Tow Truck Driver’s check in with him, but he would go eye ball his lot just to make sure since things were already going shitty. He got back on the phone and informed me my car WAS THERE, BUT Ian hadn’t checked in with the Mechanic opting again to just dump my car and fucking leave.

This pissed me off because until I heard from the Mechanic that the car was there (obviously I didn’t give a flying fuck about the cocksucking Tow Company who employed Ian the Jackass) it was still Missing. The Mechanic coped a attitude because Ian didn’t check in raised a HUGE concern for the Mechanic as far as Liability and the Law is concerned.

I took a minute to remind the Mechanic that I DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IAN THE HUMAN ACCIDENT and as the owner of the Car in question I’m the most pissed of fucking all. We had been working on this Tow starting at 7:40 am and it was 1:15 pm before my Car made it to the correct Mechanic due to the Stupidity of the Tow Truck Schmuck Ian the Inane.

Still craving the idea of caving Ian’s idiotic shit filled skull in with a Ball Peen Hammer, I decided to lodge a complaint with my Insurance company since this shit was completely FUCKING UNACCEPTABLE.

I talked to a very polite and apologetic young man who helped me file my complaint, and then he went above and beyond. He was so absolutely taken aback by what he had heard that he was calling the Tow Company Directly to inquire to as what the fuck was going on with their dips hit driver. I sat on hold while he called, and the Tow Company tried to pin the whole shit show on the address bullshit to which I pointed out that Ian should have called someone over the confusion instead of just dropping my car and fucking off like a Dick.

In the end everything worked out, but what a Shitnado to have to deal with especially after the Double Emergencies of the Day before, and those are to stories for another time and another post so…

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

Day 1 – Dumb Dumde Dumb DUUUUUUMB

The title of this blog is pretty self explanatory. There is really no need for fancy little paragraphs and sections and all that jazz.

Well except that I am referring to people when I use the word dumb. It would be quite refreshing if there were only 5 dumb people in the world, but most people would be lucky if there were only 5 dumb people in their own group of 5 themselves included.

Actually there are two things in particular I was thinking about which don’t necessarily relate to one specific person’s stupidity but more of stupidity of society as a mass as a whole.

This All started yesterday as I was driving down to the beach. I ended up going by myself, but had an opportunity to take another friend I had not seen in a long time with me. There was definite thought in the positive for including him but then I reached into my CD case for a CD.

And for some reason chance decided to give me Arista’s greatest hits of the last 15 years. But this CD was old……I think from the 80s!!!! I had no idea how it got into my car, but I was driving and if I go on a maddening search for CDs my car will crash.

I didn’t know the majority of the songs, then I came upon I’ve Been Around the World by Lisa Stansfield. It was nice to hear it was a good song and I still like it but everything else on the CD was mundane. I mean Whitney Houston is great, but I wasn’t feelin’ her and some of the other artists, well probably all of them, had a relatively respectable career.

Anyway the whole CD made me think about how music is really like people. There are some songs we grow obsessive over when they first come out but there are rarely few that we continue to be obsessive over throughout the course of time. There are other songs for other reasons, no matter how great they may have once been, that we just do not feel that connection to like we used to do.

And that I realized is how I felt about this friend. You will have a great time, you will smile, you will laugh, but in the end it will be the two of you stopped at an intersection in front of a music ordinance sign blasting Metallica while exposing your genitalia to the police officer that just pulled up.

I mean if you went out one day ten years ago and went to the liquor store and bought a case of beer and Barbaresco €œSori Paitin❠Vecchie Vigne Paitn 1999 Piemonte which would you still have around today? Well obviously the wine of course, unless you are less the connoisseur and more the alcoholic. Then both would have been gone in relatively short fashion.

What I’m saying is I really rather wish that people were more like telling the difference between what type of liquor to keep then what type of music to keep. For me, I never know when my music taste is going to change even if ever so slightly. I mean the genre, the type of beats, the type of vocalistic, type of rifts, etc. will stay relatively the same. Unless I suffer a major concussion today, I won’t be buying any Garth Brooks or Sugarland albums anytime in this lifetime.

But as people change the music changes. Their music changes. The tune the world is marching along to changes as well. I assume most people are either listening to Taps, because they are doing nothing in the way of self improvement, so they might as well be dead or are listening to Fury of the Storm by Dragonforce. Sad to say it’s a lot more Taps out there, well except on the Garden State Parkway or New Jersey Turnpike. Some people there get so into Fury of the Storm, that in several days a lot of their friends and family get together and all listen to Taps outloud and not just in their heads.

Strange, strange world we live in.

oh, the other thing well i’m going to save for day 30. if i dont the fire ignition switch under my rear currently will explode.

By SpaceDog 

The GG Allin Continuum Part 2: Now With Song Lyrics

As some Readers are aware I did a pictorial piece on the Chaotic Life & Infamous Carrier of Underground Hardcore Punk Singer GG Allin. After it posted additional pictures of GG Allin slowly started to trickle in from other Fans. I have already posted a second set of Reader Sent Pictures that was rather lame and uncreative.

This time around I’m going to intertwine the NEW GG ALLIN Pictures with a Song by The Meatmen (who knew GG Personally) I had forgotten about years ago. The Song is a miniature Biographical Tribute, and manages to encompass the entire Life & Career of GG Allin in a nasty little Nutshell.

“Rock’n Roll Enema” By The Meatmen:

For Jesus Christ to set the bar,

To be the Ultimate Scumfuck Superstar,

Left a Big Skid Mark on our Souls!

Called Yourself the Highest Power,

Loved to take a Golden Shower,

Stuck His tiny Dick into our Buttholes!

-He was a Rock’n Roll Enema, Rock’n Roll Enema-

Rockin’ Rollin’ Terrorist,

Head to Toe in Shit’n Piss,

He took it to the Edge and Overboard!

Thought His Schtick it wouldn’t Phase Ya,

Till He committed Coprophagia,

He was the Underworld’s Sick Fuck Overlord!

-He was a Rock’n Roll Enema, Rock’n Roll Enema-

 

Calling’ me a Goddamn Poseur

Guess what You Fuck your Life is Over

I live to Rage this Cage Another Day

Took it to the Cliff and Over

Suckin’ on Your Brother’s Boner

No Matter how you slice thats Pretty Gay

-He was a Rock’n Roll Enema, Rock’n Roll Enema (x3)-

REST IN FECES GG YOU SMELLY FUCK!!!”

Thanks for Reading/Viewing,

Les Sober 

Marijuana & My Mother Do a Complete 180

I remember when California passed The Compassionate Use Act in 1996 (becoming the 1st State to legalize Medical Marijuana) my friends and I were floored. Until now our Pot Smokings greatest aspirations were to save up enough money to make the Pot Head Pilgrimage across the Ocean to the Netherlands. The destination being the Legendary City of Marijuana known as Amsterdam. The Mystical Metropolis where Weed was sold and smoked without legal or social persecution  as No One Gave a Shit (a fucking Utopia as far as my Friends were concerned).

And now there it was the State of California a Pot Smokers Beacon of Hope, but it was a “So Close Yet So Far” Scenario for my Friends and I unfortunately. See while California legalized Medical Marijuana (which illuminated a lot of Foreign travel bullshit making it much easier to access  than Amsterdam) you had to be a Legal Resident with a Doctor’s Prescription Card to reap the benefits of Medical Marijuana Legally.

So California felt as fucking far away as Andsterdajm as far as I was concerned. Thankfully for me over the past 22 years 29 states have Legalized (Medical OR Recreational) Marijuana use by persons over the age of 21.

When I was growing up I started smoking Weed around 15-16 years old and have continued to this very day. My Mom was the fucking antithesis of Ronnie Regan’s bullshit War On Drugs that labeled Marijuana a Gate Way Drug (Which has been proven to be false as Alcohol is the actual 1st intoxicant Teens try so FUCK OFF ALCHOL.

Anyway the point being my Mother was disgusted and appalled by anyone, (let alone her Son) using Marijuana, and spent years battling in vain to get me to quite smoking weed. She used the old school smell check when I would get home starting  in High School in an attempt to detect the smell of Weed. The problem was my Mother had (and still doesn’t really) know what the fuck Weed smells like. This led to countless unfounded accusations because she mistook Incense, Petrulli Oil, Cloves, Cigarillo’s, Certain Cologne, and camp fire smoke just to name a few. In the end she caught me a few times when I was definitely Stoned, but only once did she find Weed. One evening She ran through my jacket pockets, and removed a fat ass Dime Bag yet never mentioned it to me ironically as it were.

. At the same time on the other side of the Cannabis Coin I spent just as many years futilely fighting to change my Mother’s negative view of Marijuana. I constantly fought to inform my Mother Marijuana had multiple Medical Uses, and wasn’t a killer narcotic like Crack. I argued that the Gate Way Drug Theory was bullshit. Was I really meant to believe if I smoked Weed on Wednesday I’d be robbing Old Ladies and shooting Heroin into my fucking neck?!!! Bullshit.

Now we fast forward to 2016 and I’m now in my 30’s and I was a married home owner living in the Great Southern Swamp. I was visiting my Father who was struggling against Liver Cancer because he wan’t people to remember him as he was not as a crippled, bed ridden living Corpse.

My Father loved to cook, hell thats an understatement. He had cooked dinner for me,my Wife, Himself, his 2nd Wife, and oddly my Mother. We were in the middle of eating I was seated at one end of the table and my Father at the other when my Mother (sitting to the right of my Father), and then it happened. My Father at that point was on a powerful as fuck Steroid that was causing mild insomnia (He slept 3-4 hours a night) and inhibiting his appetite. Now not just cooking food, but eating it as well was one of my Father’s true passions, and he quit Chemotherapy because he was too nauseous and fatigued to even think about eating shit.

My Mother leans over and all of a sudden she asked:

“Have you tired Marijuana???”

Now the answer was yes he had tried it once since getting sick. He had decided to try it at least once since he had nothing to loose (not like it kill him). The first hurdle for him (besides living in a state where Marijuana is still Illegal) was he was in his 70’s so who could he ask about getting Weed? He finally asked a close friend who had a Daughter who lived in The Rotten Apple and had a Dealer. Next my Father had obsessed about how much he should smoke ( take a couple hits of a joint? Smoke Half? Smoke it All? I think he was very weary of the affects and it made him rather uneasy.

The Daughter’s Dealer sent a Joint along to my Father along with the message to Please Smoke the Sample Joint and if my Father liked it to let him know. I didn’t have the pleasure of smoking with my Father, but my Younger Brother did. This was in part due to a phone call awhile before hand where I asked him to be there to help assist my  Father’s inaugural Toking to make sure things went smoothly. It did accept no one informed my Father that due to its unique reverse tolerance (Marijuana has to build up in your system before you can experience the High which is why in most all cases a person won’t get Stoned the 1st or 1st few times the smoke.) he might need to keep going, but he figured once was enough for him.

I couldn’t get over what my Mother had said and couldn’t let it go until I found out why. It only took a couple of moths or so and I learned the real story.

Apparently my Mother has a very good friend who suffers from brutal insomnia (She would go DAYS without sleeping), and she to had a Daughter who happened to live in Colorado (The New Mecca for Marijuana in America). So inevitably my Mother’s Friend flew out to visit her Daughter, and while she was there visiting her Daughter suggested trying Marijuana to combat her ongoing contest against insomnia. My Mother’s friend thought why not and purchased some Weed from a local Dispensary (Marijuana is Legal for Medical AND Recreational Adult Use) and tried it. She was blown away as she had never imagined Marijuana would work nearly as well as it did. Since that trip She had been singing the praises of Marijuana to everyone She knew INCLUDING MY MOTHER.

Then in that instant I realized what the fuck was going on. Its damn near identical as to going to Court. You can go to Court and tell the Judge your innocent and he sends you to jail, BUT if you hire a Lawyer and he says the same fucking thing you did/would have all of a sudden the Judge starts listening.

And thats exactly what had happened with my Mother and her views of Marijuana. I could tell her till I was blue in the fucking face (and I did) about the benefits of Marijuana and all the bullshit propaganda             BUT UNTIL HER GOOD FRIEND VOUCHED FOR THE BENEFITS OF MARIJUANA THROUGH HER PERSONAL EXPERIENCE was the convincing factor for my Mother’s drastic and positive attitude change towards Medical Marijuana.

Sometimes its not WHATS BEING SAID BUT WHO’S SAYING IT that matters.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

Dreams Reunited?

I actually wrote the blog I’m about to type below offline. I had a very traumatic event (that I caused in full) which led to my banishment from a certain place. I will keep this matter private. The lesson here is do not brag about your lack of misfortune. It may and will come back to bite you in the ass.

DREAMS REUNITED?

Life is very strange on occassion. Well most of the time. People rise that were long thought to be dead. Misfortune brings some of us together; while

on other occassions good omens actually can tear people apart.

And in between all the quicksand, betwixt the most recent firestorm I created something strange occured. I began to become aware of my dreams.

Not the things I want to do in my life, not the things like that. But the dreams we all have occuring somewhere deep in our unconsciousness, deep in our sleep.

The dreams at first became apparent to me at a time I would least expect them to do so. I am under firm belief that these dreams came to me because of my recent alcohol blackout. While I know it is highly unlikely that this triggered some mechanism in my head, it makes more sense then not.

You see, I had not remembered a dream or having a dream in a very long time. Six months to be exact. Six months since the time my doctor thought that a good experiment on my brain would be to give it Ritalin. They have not occured since that moment.

Yet I would trade back all the dreams I have had the past three days if I could do so. These dreams have been nothing special, nothing I could turn into great (or even mediocre) stories, movies, cures for cancer, you name it. But this price I paid for the recent dreaming is never worth the dream I suffocated.

I’m not really sure what this dream was. I’m not even sure if it was ever mine or ever tangible existed. It did on some level but I do not choose to analyze which at this moment. Yet I kept myself so incredibly dilluted with seriousness and plans of grandeur, which would take months or years to acheive not the days or hours which I so desired, that left me unable to sleep on this dream.

I will never know for sure. Yet apparently now I have an eternity to sleep on this dream. I’m not even sure that I can really do anything about it. I know I cannot, not directly. It may have never even been my dream. I may never know.

It is now simply one of the dreams I wish upon everyone.Peace, love, and happiness. I cannot or should not expect to be able to deliver this gift to another, not at this given moment. Not when they do not exist within. I am an expert at moments of all of these attributes, yet a master at none.

Do any of us ever truly master these things? I always feel there is more work to do. No matter how good, no matter how bad things might be. People have repeatedly used me for all of these attributes. I need to learn to keep more of these to myself.

I am 31 years old right now. It is my turn to try a lot harder and not just grace the masquerade ball wearing the mask of trying hard.

There is a point of hope that began in my life on May 22nd. Perhaps I am speaking too soon. I don’t really care. I need to have this hope. I can whine and complain all I want but I would rather be an inspiration. I do not know how to be this or much of anything but I NEED to try. I cannot afford to put that torch down ever again.

I want to carry the world on my back, but I must carry my own reignited dreams, first and foremost.

By SpaceDog 

A Longstanding Joke Goes From Funny To Fubar* In Seconds.

When I was growing up there where two eccentric’s if you will. One I have already written about in a previous post who was known as Smiley Jesus among the neighborhood kids. This post pertains to the second.

She was a woman in here mid to late fifties with long mostly white hair tied up in a loose bun. She wore a full length goose down style winter coat no matter what time of year it was. She was always sporting  Jackie O. like sunglasses the ones with the huge circular frames. She also had applied so much rouge that it fully covered both of her cheeks in giant clown like circles. Her uncommon attire also included a Golf Visor, and lastly a pair of cheap white velcro sneakers. This may have well been her official uniform because it NEVER changed EVER.

Aside from her bizarre sense of fashion the other key aspect about Her was she never spoke. Not a single word. At most she might have flashed a quick smile as she walked by with her hands in her jacket pockets. Come to think of it I don’t think I ever saw her hands out of her jacket pockets.

Now we fast forward a bit and I’m now 16 or so and dating my first real Girlfriend/High School Sweetheart who lived in the neighborhood adjacent to mine. I asked her one day if she had seen this odd woman walking around in her neighborhood as well growing up. Not only did she yes she had, but she went on to tell me that the Woman in question actually lived somewhere  in her neighborhood.

We tried half assed measure in lame attempts to locate the weird Woman’s house to no avail. We had all but lost interest when we got some additional information pertaining to the peculiar Woman’s back story.

The information came from my Girlfriend’s Mother. It turned out that her Mom grew up at the same time, in the same town, and went to the same school as the strange Woman. Apparently the Woman was not what you would call popular by any means. In fact she was bullied pretty brutally from the few stories we were told by my Girlfriend’s Mother, and she was as guilty as the rest when it came to relentlessly tormenting the Woman as a Girl.

The one story I remember was my Girlfriend’s Mother telling us she and her gang of friends from school lured the Woman then just a girl to some near by woods. They then tied her to a tree and berated the shit out of her non stop for over an hour. Once they got tired of teasing her to the point of tears they up and left her there tied to a tree. No one knows the exact details but obviously someone heard her crying for help or passed by and cut her free.

Needless to say as the story got darker the more I found myself fascinated by the morbidity of it all. A months or so after hearing the tortured tale of the Woman’s unhappy childhood (on no day in particular) my Girlfriend and I decided to go for a late day walk. It was the middle of July so we hid inside clinging to the Air Conditioning until dusk when it was cool enough to venture outside.

We had only gone about 5 or 6 blocks when all of a sudden we became aware of a extremely heated argument. This wasn’t surprising since being Summer many people left the front door open optimizing their screen doors to enjoy the cool Summer evenings.

The chaotic commotion was coming from a house to our right that stood atop a small hill. The front door was indeed wide open allowing anyone passing buy to hear the insanity inside, and I do mean insanity. We heard a lady screaming at the top of her lungs, and we knew that we had accidentally stumbled across the Weird Woman’s house. We both turned and stared at one another in shear shock and awe at first, and then we returned our attention back to the madness raging inside of this otherwise absolutely normal looking suburban home.

The sounds emulating from the front door where like none I had never heard before in my life, and have rarely heard since. The Woman was in the middle of what seemed to be an argument that was spiraling out of control. The Woman was intensely enraged and her blood curdling screams in were purely primal.

I couldn’t tell you what the fuck the argument was about, but that is more than likely because we only heard one side of the argument. This was due to the fact that whoever the Woman was yelling at so savagely DIDN’T EXIST. They weren’t imaginary either like a hallucination (though now that I’m mulling it over she could have been hallucinating, but not because of Drugs but due to Mental Illness of some sort.) Anyway for all intensive purposes it appeared that the Woman  having a knock- down-drag- out fight with her Dead Husband.

We stood there for several minutes completely mesmerized by the madness we were witnessing. It was quite clear that this Woman was just an eccentric  she was legitimately batshit crazy. Once the terrible trance wore off my Girlfriend and I hightailed the hell out of there, and didn’t even pause for a brief second to look back.

And ever since that fateful evening We have  never passed by that house again even though the psychotic Woman passed away many, many years ago.

(*FUBAR stands for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition)

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober  

The Backyard Beasts Big Break

It was just one of those mundane and utterly uneventful night a few days back that was until 4:07am. And then all fucking Hell broke loose. My Wife had passed out in her favorite Lazy Boy Recliner around midnight or so, and I dozed off around a little before 3 am.

The Backyard Beasts had been more vocal than usual that evening which now that I think about it was some serious foreshadowing. It was the wailing, Whining, loud, and virtual nonstop barking of the Backyard Beasts that woke my very unamused Wife who then yelled about being woke up due to the son of a bitch beasts. This in turn immediately woke me up and I glanced at the clock which read 4:07 am.

My Wife was shuffling like mad around looking for a flashlight and her shoes. My shoes where near by under the coffee table so I snatched them up, put them on, turned off the alarm system, found my keys, unlocked the door, and bounded out to the front porch.

I start scanning the yard squinting like a motherfucker because we don’t have street lights being so far out in the woods. I cursed out loud for not getting a hold of a flashlight myself as I stared into the night. The I saw it. It was big solid black silhouette standing at the edge of the yard between two trees. The only reason I could see that much was thank to the aid of our neighbors rather promenade out door lights. Their lights backlit the street just enough to see the contrast between the black of night and the black of the beasts.

I yelled to my Wife that there was another Beast out here and that was exciting ours evidently though I was completely wrong. This is not uncommon here in the Woods where people let there dogs roam like free range chickens out and about at all hours doing whatever they please.

I then had a odd feeling and then it clicked. This wasn’t a neighbor’s Beast, it was one of ours, the Brother Beast. I ran down into the yard words the Beast shouting his name, and He came right over. I took hold of his collar with an steely grip of a fucking Bear trap.

My Wife had ran directly to the back gate (instead of entering from the house where the Beasts are forbidden to go) and opened it to go see what she could find the fuck out. In opening the back gate she inadvertently let out the 2nd of our pair of Beasts (their a Brother-Sister Team who are the absolutely inseparable. The Girl won’t follow her Brother so she stayed put in the yard and lamented loudly pleading with her Brother to come the fuck back already.)  The Girl then decided to go rejoin her Brother and tore off like a fucking rocket into the dead of night.

My Wife ran passed me to corral the Sister Beast as I passed her with the Brother Beast in tow. I put the Boy Beast back into the confines of the backyard, and went to help my Wife. All of a sudden I hear her proclaim allowed that she has BOTH Beasts now. I holler back that I’m going to get some leashes to tie up the Beasts while I go inspect the backyard to see where the Beast escaped from.

I searched relentlessly checking the fence, the yard, and looked for any clues such as did he go under or over the Fence? Was the back gate to the yard eft unlocked? That kind of shit. Well after inspecting the backyard I was stumped. So I did the only thing I could and that was to take the gamble. The gamble being that if I had my Wife return the Beasts to the backyard that instead of waiting for me to leave and then escaping again, but rather the Boy would be stupid enough to just go for it right in front of me. Luckily it was the latter.

The dumb bastard trotted around to the opposing side of the house, walked over to the far side of the Air Conditioner, crouched down to the ground by the section of the fence that meets the Home Office, and started to crawl under it like some solider at boot camp running a obstacle course. I hurried over, bent down, and grabbed the Beast at the base of his large tail. As I retrieved the Boy Beast from out under the fence I informed my Wife I found his way out.

I then set to work fixing the issue the best I could with what I had available at 4 fucking AM. First I used some small fence stakes to secure the bottom of the fence like doctor Frankenstein stitching up his Monster. I the placed to long and rather weighty spare wooden beams at the base to help block the dig site/zone. My Wife and I went inside to catch our breath. Then the Mournful Howling started up again. I ran out front and again spotted our Boy bouncing around gleefully in the front yard without a care in the world. I managed once again to catch hold of his collar and wrangled him back into the backyard.

I immediately went to inspect the escape site and saw he had maneuvered the beams out of the way and tore up/out damn near every fence stake. So this time we decided it be best to just section off that small 5 foot long and 3 foot wide area until morning (when I could go to Home Depot and load up on cinder blocks to line the bottom of the fence with. Dig under that you big bitch is the motto) We had a massive and heavy piece of Ply Wood left over from the construction of my Art Studio I had held onto. This was perfect for the job of blockade. It was Long enough to block the space,  tall enough neither Beast could jump or climb over or under it, and it was pretty damn heavy.

My Wife and I were on the porch winding down off our adrenaline fueled frustration when we heard deliberate scratching of claws against wood. We both ran out back again and saw that the leaning Ply Wood wasn’t going to cut it by itself as the Boy Beast was creeping through the space behind it. I went and got the previously used beams and wedged them up against the Ply Wood, but we still need more. I found some old, solid wood barn type doors left over from the previous owner and I knew they had some serious weight to them so I leaned both of them up against the ply Wood, andante again my Wife and I retired to the House.

Yet again We heard the Boy Beast testing the viability of the Ply Wood wall and for what seemed like the 5,000th time went to go evaluate the escape situation. We came to the conclusion the Ply Wood needed yet MORE securing so I went and fetched some of the mock rout iron gates that came in sections down at the Home Depot’s gardening center. I used the pieces of gate the pin the Ply Wood to the Air Conditioner, and it held fast.

Finally my Wife and I got a few more hours of sleep before waking for work. My Wife went off to work as per usual, and I fired up my Lap Top. Then after about an hour or two I heard the Girl Beast’s cry of desperation. I ran to a back window and peered out only to see that fucking son of a bitch Boy Beast standing on the dirt road behind our home office happier than a Prize Pig in shit. I went out and pretended I was giving his Sister a treat (I always give the Beasts a treat before heading out anywhere.), and just like a sucker at a used car dealer he bought it.

I then called my Wife in a foul fit of anger (and exasperation) and told her what happened, and that outside of killing them or myself had come to the end of my rope. She instructed me to house the Beasts on the front porch until she got off work. She said right after she got off she’d head over to Home Depot and pick up the cinderblocks.

I followed her lead and stashed the Beasts on the front porch for the day. I couldn’t help it though I had to see how the hell the Boy had pulled off yet another escape. I was truly surprised at what I found. The Ply Wall was perfectly still intact. After further inspection I realized the Boy Beast I climbed up and over the Air Conditioner Unit to circumvent the Ply Wood, and then simple jumped down the other side into the separated section to dig under the fence.

That evening my Wife returned home with the cinderblocks, and I went about building a Fence Bottom Cinderblock Barrier. Before I laid the cinder blocks down I used a couple sections of the mock fence as anchors. I simply slid the legs of the section of mock fence between sections of the chain link thus pinning it to the ground. The Boy Beast did try and escape again to no vail, but not due to a lack of trying. All I had to due to secure that bottom section of the fence was to tweak the cinderblock’s formation. And all is quite on the Western Front as some would be apt to say.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober  

Life Without Beer??? WHAT!!!

So recently I decided as an experiment to put down the beer for 2 weeks. I put down the hard liquor and all that other stuff and drugs, but couldn’t help myself to a few whipits, I mean the jackassed government only gives me $14 of food stamps a month and I can’t use this on smokes or beer so what better.

So I did this experiment, still felt like shit and got drunk. I went overboard but whatelse is new. Hard liquor, control, and my presence usually equal drama. For as little drama as I supply sober, I more then make up a few shots, no wait it really only takes one drink to get the drama train started.

Yeah blah blah blah. So I went back to beer. Drama really doesn’t happen with beer unless I’m drinking because I’m sad and well I’ve only done that drink beer sad thing twice in the past year. First time ended with a broken emergency supply kit in my vehicle (and a very angry friend’s grandmother who wants to crucify me) and the second time ended with a seven hour phone call. Maybe longer. Not sure, was worshipping the porcelin god in my bathroom.

So twice in a year isn’t so bad. It’s far worse with hard.

Long story short. I think I have a gluten allergy. Which means no beer!!!! I can get over the lack of chips and pretzels and processed crap and bread but no beer!!!!

All I know is I am A LOT happier the past week and certain ailments (most notably dry skin and random happy 31st birthday acne) have mystically cleared up.

Right now, I feel like Courtney Love probably felt when she was becoming an actress like, “Oh shit I need to put on a dress AND underwear??? And pose like a lady ??? And not get drunk that bad!!!!???? WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!”.

Well she only lasted well maybe a year or two before she was drunk and screaming at Madonna on MTV.

Anyway that’s how I feel. I am not ready to put on professional people clothes and wear ties and drink glasses on wine with equally stuffy people sipping on cosmos. NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!

I mean I’m more a box of wine type, but there’s no good place to put that in my car. It’s like when I used to travel with my hooka, it was great company for trips by oneself but I like red wine and I’m a bit of a mess.

So does anyone have ideas of either A) What I should drink? B) Where I should drink? OR C) The next establishment they would like to see me banned from. (and YES I have not been bannished from anywhere since “ASSGATE” in Philly. Almost 3 years ago!!!!!)

Brought to you by,

SpaceDog