Tag: Life Experiences

Chances

My phone rang one desolate, dank, and cold evening.

She asked for Carlos.

I told her she had the wrong number.

She called back.

She called back a third time.

   

My jack and coke told me that I was bored.

So we talked.

For thirty minutes.

A strange girl and myself.

I don’t talk to strange women.

Women have cooties.

       

So we went on a date. It was rather bizarre. A date with a woman. We met. She was a pretty girl, but I think I was just being nice when I told her this. She liked pixie sticks and newports. I had both of these in my pocket at the time as well. We hit it off somewhat. We saw a movie. Then sanity kicked in and I  never saw her again.

This was the ultimate chance meeting. I wanted to say I went out with my wrong number girl. If I was bi, I would have gotten in her pants so I could say I have sex with people that dial the wrong number. But I had already pilfered my friends phone line one day and made dates with six different guys who were actually calling him. My phone booth whore days have long since vanished.

       

GOOD VS. EVIL

Some chances we take have results not always visible to the naked eye. We take a chance on lending a friend money. Let say $500. That person promises to pay us back but everytime we ask them for our money the subject is changed. We hear about their abusive boyfriend, we hear about how expensive gas is, we hear about their drunken sister.

Then we suddenly remember this person is single. Then we remember gas is like a buck fifty a gallon. Then we recall they don’t have a sister.

So we stop asking.

         

We try not to harm the friendship in this person’s mind even though they might be harming it in ours but not making any attempts to pay us back. They don’t seem to have much of a consciousness or a soul when it comes to these things. Then you think for a second that you are being too harsh. Then you find out another friend of yours lent this person money and never saw a dime of it either.

Several weeks pass by. You have a few drinks at your friend’s house and fall asleep on the couch. In the morning you part ways and find your wallet to be short a few bills. You go home. You wonder what to say. Whether to say anything. What you say is ignored. So you keep silent.

     

Then we go off into the night.

Then we try and forget this person existed.

We hear rumors about their plight.

We hear sordid fairy tales, most likely a melody of facts and fables, everywhere we turn.

We wonder what went wrong, why we took such a chance on them.

Why couldn’t he have been honest? Why can’t we tell the truth and be honest for once?

 

BLACKMAIL

I like the way you look at me.

I like the way you brush your hair.

I think your eyes are a glimpse into heaven.

I know you had sex in your car last night. I am going to rat your ass out.

 Yup sometimes we are lucky little ones and aren’t always the ones with our hand caught in the cookie jar. We catch other people’s hands in the cookie jar quite often too. I was involved in one of these situations before. Well shit I seem to have been involved in many of these situations, who am i kidding?.

Sometimes all we have to do is shut up and listen. You can hear drama from quite a distance.

        

All of the thoughts in my head told me to go for the money. Extort! Extort! Extortitionaaayyyy! I need a vacation I thought to myself. I chose to have a conscience. I laughed about it with the dude, who was the “other woman”. The months worth of laughter provided much more valuable than any payment plans.Chance provided a good chuckle.

CONCLUSIONAIRE

We all take chances. Sometimes they take us.

We have the power in ourselves to determine the final outcome.

Time may have had its way with you.

Time may be your best friend.

        

But when the time comes to make your mark.

Will you actually take that chance you have been dying to take your whole life?

Or will you let time have its way with you and regret those leaps of faith?

Those chances you can’t take back.

Those choices that beckon forth your reaper. 

I simply call him Dismay.

  By SpaceDog

By Far The Worst Strip Club I Have Ever Been To.

Now just to get it out of the way if after Reading this Post You honestly want the Address to this Surreally Shitty Strip Club (as it like to call itself) all You have to do is send Us an Email Requesting it. Ask and You shall Receive.

Back in My early 20’s I was Living in some shitty Section 8 Housing Apartment Complex with a Buddy of Mine I had met while in Rehab. He went by the nickname Kujo. He spelt Cujo with a K to be original. Here’s a fucking idea if You want to be original don’t pick the name of a Legendary Horror Character asshole.

Neither of Us had jobs and We spent Our days killing time fucking around aimlessly. We were basically broke most of the fucking time since We were self-Unemployed, and if We got hold of a couple Extra Bucks We pissed it away Parting.

It was one of those rare times when We were rather flush from having worked a couple of Day Jobs for some Day Labor Company, and had racked up some spending cash. We were sitting around shooting the shit trying to come up with some dumb shit to do. Finally Kujo volunteered We could go to The Strip Club. I had no fucking idea where the fuck there could be a Strip Club Our are area I sure as fuck didn’t know of one. So out of a mix of intense Boredom and Curiosity I said sure why the fuck not.

We got in My car and headed out to whatever Strip Club Kujo had been babbling about. We drove for about 15 minutes into the City Suburbs when all of a sudden Kujo told Me to park when I saw a spot on the Street. I though what the fuck are We stopping Here for? The I assumed Kujo was picking up some coke or some other Party Favor. I Pulled up to the curb and parked outside of what appeared to be a Block of Retail Stores that had closed hours ago.

   

I parked the car, got out, locked it, and proceeded to follow Kujo who had already started walking off down the Sidewalk. I kept waiting for Him to say some shit like “We’re going to see My Guy so be cool” or “I’m going to see mY Guy to pick up some Colombian Marching Powder so wait here a minute”, BUT Kujo walked instead of in total silence. Then out of no where Kujo stopped, took the last couple of drags off His Cigaret, and opened some fucking random nondescript Door. It honestly looked like a Door that would lead up to a Residence where someone was Living.

When I stepped through the exterior Door I found Myself walking directly behind Kujo since the Hallway We were walking down was so fucking narrow it felt like I had boarded a fucking Submarine instead of entering a fucking Building. The walls were painted this disgusting very light Yellow Pastel so for all I knew We had entered a fucking Elementary School or some shit.

     

Once We reached the End of this bizarre Hallway there was a Cashier’s Window the type you’d find at an Older Movie Theater. Behind the Glass sat this Older hefty Gentlemen where a light blue button down shirt that was 2 sizes too small for His Stature. He also was suffering from a bad case of Male Pattern Baldness. The most notable thing about the sunken eyed pale skinned Cashier was He seemed to be coated in a thin film of sweat from Head to Toe. We paid the bullshit $10 per Person Cover Charge, and then We turned to the Left where Kujo opened yet another Generic Plain Looking Steel Door.

We entered what immediately reminded Me of someone’s fucking basement that They had attempted to convert into a legit Strip Club, and failed fucking miserably. The entire “Club” was approximately 400-450 square feet in total. I suppose that the fucking Horrible Pastel Easter Yellow Paint must have been on Sale because the entire Room was Painted with it. The Walls, The fucking Ceiling, The Extremely Basic Desk like sitting area’s, and the Inside of the goddamn Door  it was almost made You feel Physically fucking Ill.

      

I couldn’t help but notice that this so called Basement Strip Club was lacking ALL the essentials that a Good Strip Club has. There was No Bouncer, No Sound System, No Bar, Not one single Stripper Pole, No Lighting System, No DJ, and No VIP Room. This “Club” was a tiny fucking Windowless Room painted in a Make- Me -Wanna- Vomit -Yellow, with Florescent Ceiling Lights, and that was almost completely Empty.

I was informed by Kujo that because this “Club” was ALL NUDE They didn’t Serve Alcohol, BUT You could Bring You Own which made No Sense to Me. They didn’t want to serve Alcohol to Their Customers, Yet They could Just BYOB it thus negating this weird sort of Alcohol Law. We had neglected to bring any Beer with Us which didn’t exactly help this shitty  situation.

We slowly made Our way to the other side of the Room and sat down on a fucking Steel Folding Chair (how fucking much of a cheap ass did the Owner have to be that He/She wouldn’t even spring for decent fucking Chairs?!) behind what looked like to Me as if a Office Desk and a Table had a fucking Kid, I assume They were Homemade especially for this Strip Club Shithole.

   

The Stage was just a Large fucking Block about 4 Feet high, 4 Feet Wide, and 10 feet long at the most, and Yes it was painted that Hideous fucking Yellow like everything Else. The Talent were NO WHERE CLOSE TO BEING ACTUAL STRIPPERS. The Girls lackadaisically mousied through a Doorway that was covered with a Black Sheet, NOT A CURTIN some asshole just tacked up a Bed Sheet, and called it a Day.

The Girls were already completely Nude when the strode out onto the Floor. They would then ascend to the whack ass excuse for a fucking stage, and pace around in a fucking circle and that was it. There’d be 6-7 Girls lingering onstage again pacing in a circle like a bored Zoo Animal in its Enclosure. They didn’t interact with the handful of Scummy looking Customers (Myself included not going to lie), They never Waved, Made Eye Contact, Talk to, Smiled at, or even fucking acknowledged They or We were even fucking there. The Talent seemed utterly oblivious to Their surroundings.

     

Every couple of minutes or so one of the Girls would be swapped out for a New one like a fucking Conveyer Belt of ass. After about half an hour I turned to Kujo and told Him as far as I was Concerned all this place was was a waste of $20, and that I was leaving to go look for the nearest Neighborhood Bar. Kujo begrudgingly agreed, and Our short Visit to this Clusterfuck of a Crappy “Strip” Club had finally come to an end.

Thanks for Reading,

   By Les Sober

Lee Jonitis: Professional People Watcher (9/365)

“When it comes to Lester He was a Genius, but I think as the Years went on Movie, By Movie He just slowly slipped into Insanity.” Shane said like someone recollecting a memory that until then had been long forgotten.

“Can I ask You one Question.” Less asked Cautiously, “It’s Not the Usual Fanboy Bullshit either I mean save that crap for ComicCon right?!”

“Fine if it’s just one Question Go For It I’m not exactly in a Hurry to head back to the Set with Mr. Motherfucker out there.” Shane said with a guarded tone in His voice as Shot a Quick Glance at the Door as if He gave a shit about keeping tabs on Glen (Who had yet to return from His Self Imposed Exile to the Parking Lot.)

   

The reason Lee asked Shane a Personal Question about working with Indie Film Icon Lester Sane was He didn’t want to Waste time or an Opportunity to  Learn about Shane and Lester’s Work Relationship.

Sure Lee had countless Questions being a HUGE Lester Sane Admirer, But He was reminded of a Saying He had heard Growing Up that “A Warrior Can’t Win Every War, So He Must Choose His Battles Wisely.” Lee realized that pestering Shane about What Lester was like in Real Life would be useless. The last thing Shane wanted to talk about was His Batshit Boss.

Lee figured if He wanted to know more in-depth about Lester’s Life or Career He could look it up Online. If He bother Shane with the Typical Type of inane Questions (He got asked every time a Fan of Lester’s Fils finds out that Shane actually Worked with) Shane would become further irritated, and would simple Walk Out, and Lee would have Learned Nothing.

“Thats the kind of Question that You think would be one of the Easiest to Answer.” Shane answered in a Hazy Daydream like way,”I’ve been working for Lester since I graduated from Film School 11 years ago. I really think I was His first Employee actually.”

Lee remained silent allowing Shane the time He needed to since He was going to be gracious enough to indulge Lee in answering His Question. Hurrying Him now would only be Counter Productive since Shane’s angst was subsiding by the Minute. Shane for His part was standing in place switching His weight from foot to foot as He was thinking the Question over in His Head.

“If I had to pick one I now it sounds Cheesy, but it be THE DISEMBOWLER which was My first feature Film and Lester’s 3rd Movie that He had ever made.” Said Shane with a longing fondness of Someone reminiscing about Their Childhood growing up.

   

“Jesus You have been with Lester since basically the very fucking beginning.” Lee said with great admiration unable to restrain Himself before elaborating further,”I mean Lester’s first Film was VOMITORIUM was a Student Film which was followed by Lester’s Short Film I’LL EAT YOUR ENTRAILS so really it was both Lester’s as well as Your first actual Feature Film.”

“Whoa You are a Hardcore Fan if You know about Lester’s earlier Years before He became the Controversial Icon. Most so called Fans just know about the Newest shit of Lester’s like SKULLFUCKER or EJACULATING FECES and all that really over the top Shit.” Shane replied sounding quite sincere, “But there’s nothing like the frantic chaos of Lester’s earlier Film Projects. It was one of those things You’d have to be lucky enough to be in the Right Spot at the Right Time to receive the honor of Participating in it.”

        

Stay Tuned for Tomorrow’s Installment of Lee Jonitis: Professional People Watcher (10/365)

Thanks for Reading,

 Les Sober

The Gas Station Ganja Guy

Back when I was growing up in a shitty little town (in an even shittier little state) there was a Hess Gas Station that I visited quite frequently. Out of all of the usual Gas Stations Hess always had the cheapest Gas in town hands down. Are there even Hess Stations anymore? No Really I can’t remember for the life of Me when the last time I saw a Hess Station. I know the Christmas Hess Truck is still some sort of tradition deal, BUT you don’t need Gas Stations to manufacture a Toy Truck once a year.

Now I lived in one of those states that thinks its Residents are too stupid to know how to pump their own gas. There was this Hess Gas Station Attendant that worked at there that went by the name Lazlo. Lazlo was a young white guy with long black hair (a couple years older than Me) with the classic slacker mentality.Lazlo was an extremely nice guy who always seemed to be smiling in a “Cat That Ate The Canary” type manner like a mischievous child. I have no idea where Lazlo came from so to speak as I have said I grew up in a small ass town so everybody pretty much knew everybody else if they liked it or not. All anyone basically knew was his name and that he worked at Hess. Nobody seemed to know any other details about Lazlo no last name, no actual age, school he went to, if he had siblings, where he lived etc.

One fine Summers day The Arminian and I picked Spacedog up, and We hit up Hess since I needed gas and Hess was located just a round the corner from Spacedog’s. When We pulled in and up to the pump We saw Lazlo coming out of the office towards us at a vigorous clip with His trademark sly  smile. We got out of the car as We usually did when Lazlo was working because he was a cool guy to just hang out and shoot the shit with. I walked around to the back of the car where Lazlo was standing next to the car beside the gas pump as it whirred and thumped gallon after gallon into My so old its almost legit “Classic” first car.

It was then that for the first (and only) time Lazlo asked Me if I could score him some Weed, and I told Him sure it be no problem. I then asked Him what amount was he looking for in particular, and Lazlo reached up grabbed His Hess employee jacket which was apparently being used to conceal something. He turned around and placed his jacket on the trunk of my car and opened it as he answered My previous question by answering this much. I looked down and saw the biggest fucking bag of buds that I had ever seen put to that point in My life, if I had to guess it was a very generous QP (quarter pound) or perhaps a QP and a half (6 Ounces total). Now like I said this was more Marijuana then I was accustom too as the most I had ever dealt with was an Ounce before.

I looked back up at Lazlo who was grinning from ear to ear utterly delighted that his surprise had worked so well. I just stood there in a state of awe until Lazlo told Us to come by later in the evening and He’d smoke us out so obviously We said hells yes. It was around 8 pm or so once We returned to the Hess Station to take Lazlo up on his offer. Lazlo again came out to meet us, instructed us where to park, and then We followed Him into the Hess Station. There was a small area with racks of oil, air freshners, AntiFreeze, wind shield wiper fluid, and other auto odds and ends with a cash register that had Maps of the State on the counter next to it. We walked back into the Office which was a 10″ by  8″ room that housed a beat 1970’s office desk, crappy old office chair, phone, and a couple of run down filing cabinets that looked as if they had been thrown down a flight of stairs. There wasn’t a Computer because they hadn’t become the omnipresent force that they have become over the last 20 some years.

Lazlo plopped himself in the chair behind the desk and brought out the big  bag of buds, and started packing a fat ass Dime Bag into a corn cob pipe (Yes a strait out of fucking Tom Sawyer and shit), and as rather confused by this as We were nobody called attention to or questioned it We just went with it. The 4 of us smoked continuously for over an hour, We hot boxed the absolute holy hell out of that office. The Smoke hung thick in the air as We had to duck our heads and squint to see one another. At last We said fair well to Lazlo and thank you for the generous smoking session as We piled into My car. Lazlo said to come back and see Him again and We drove off into the night words home.

We never saw Lazlo again after that night. When We did return to the Hess station a few days later  We asked the Attendant working When Lazlo would be working, and he said Lazlo had been taken off the schedule but didn’t know anything beyond that. Obviously in all likelihood Lazlo got fucking fired for smoking pot at work in the Boss’s office. I like to think though that  Lazlo returned to the Parallel Dimension from whence he came.  That or that He sat in the office for the rest of that fateful night and smoked Himself out of existence all together.

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober