The world is terrifying at 3 am if you’ve been drinking dessert wine and eating sausages all afternoon. I woke up to pee last night and my mouth felt like the surface of a particularly hot part of Mars, I was a little dizzy and by the time I navigated to the bathroom and back into bed, my mind was absolutely fucking racing and going back to sleep was a distant and unattainable fantasy.
To be fair, this was quite a weekend. On Friday, after hearing some big, awesome, potentially life changing news about both the other members of the Lawrence Arms, I went to see Against Me! and hung out with all sorts of great mofos. I am also here to report that the biggest difference between Tom Gabel and Laura Grace is that Laura is vastly, vastly more famous than Tom ever was and it’s pretty cool, but more than just a little bit intimidating, and I say this as a longtime friend of both Laura and her wife. Short version: the band was great, Laura’s performance was much more effortless and natural than Tom’s ever was and she was very nice in answering some technical questions I had (“if you were to duck into the woods to pee, would you squat or stand?” [the answer was ‘well, I haven’t gotten there yet. I’m still figuring all this stuff out’ if you’re curious]) and was even gracious enough to not tell me to go fuck myself when a well intentioned, but in hindsight probably inappropriate anecdote of mine descended into babbling incoherence. Long story short: great set, great band, stoked for Laura and really, really stoked that I got to go to a weird, secret and lawless VFW hall with Andrew and James for what can only be described as the “bad decisions” part of the evening.
Saturday I woke up and cruised over to one of the many outdoor patio bar/restaurants in my neighborhood and ordered the chicken wings. The first wing was a little weird. The second one was fine. I bit into the third one and it was red, which is no good. I hastened to the bathroom and gagged myself for a while to make myself barf. It turns out that I can stick almost my entire hand down my throat passed my adam’s apple without barfing, which is terrible when you’re trying to puke up potential salmonella, but it strikes me that I’d probably be great at sucking massive dicks. So I got that going for me.
Anyway, from there shit got awesome real quick with a bit of back porching and a giant pizza. My buddy Johan went to the roller derby and creeped out a gigantic batch of athletic women and got hammered on white wine. The whole thing was a grand success.
Sunday, we hit the German fest all day, which is actually called Maifest for you Teutons out there. Those of you who follow my instagram (dr_beexo) or my twitter (@badsandwich) already know that my trusty squire Tobias Jeg was the official Kraut Meister, which involved him drunkenly stirring cauldrons of fermenting cabbage while a Mexican head chef forced him to consume Hoffbrau by the 2 liter stein. If you were on my twitter or instagram yesterday, you also probably saw the dude in the red and yellow cowboy hat wearing the “I’m lovin it” shirt that substituted the golden arches with a woman spreading her vagina. Real classy. I don’t know about you, but when I’m out in public I like to wear shirts that indicate to all strangers around me that I’m at the very least borderline retarded and also quite possibly a creepy sexual predator (and matching cowboy hat). Good show!
By the end of the evening, I was full of beer, sausage and this sickly sweet desert wine that was the only alternative to beer after beer ceased to be something I could fathom drinking any more of. By ten, I was asleep and by 3 I was awake secure in the knowledge that everything I’m doing is wrong.
I don’t know if you guys get this, but things that are easy, simple tasks (I have to file my online taxes, for example, and make a doctor’s appointment for my daughter) become terrifyingly insurmountable logistical nightmares and full on impossibilities. I panic about my life, my health, my family, my myriad dumb mistakes and failings and I panic about the fact that life is a fast-moving rocket to death and I’m wasting it doing dumb, pointless bullshit. I dunno though. Then I wake up and, truth be told, it was a pretty fun weekend even if I did eat raw chicken. Wait until this shit about Neil gets out. Y’all are finna lose your minds!