Keith Moon

Shallon had a near death experience last night. I came home after what can only be described as a stellar evening. I got a check for $3,000 from a stranger for the beach house, watched the Bosox win, and did the worm in front of a punk rock band! Actually ended up carrying the lead singer around while he sang Rage. Just fucking awesome time. At the end of the night, I bummed $5 off buddies for a cab and went home. Shal had been to a bachelorette party for Karen. I actually ran into Karen at the bar where the punk band was playing upstairs. She was incoherent hammered, as is proper. It was her party, so cheers! I asked her about Shal's whereabouts, got a response along the lines of "Huh?" So I get home and find Shal buck naked and puking in her sleep. I immediately sobered up and contemplated calling 911. I slapped her around until she woke up. Thankfully she was alive. Puke fucking everywhere. I cleaned her up as best as possible and made sure she wasn't going to die. How fucking ironic would it be if she died of alcohol abuse? As I explained to her, that was my gig. I stripped the bed and gave her a new sheet. Then I promptly passed out.
Upon waking this morning, we had one of those joyous hung over moments where you're just glad to be alive. She kept apologizing to me and I kept reminding her that it was all okay. "We're both alive and will recover from this. I love you. I'm usually the drunken near-death one, you're the responsible one. You'll be okay. Now go wash the puke out of your hair." I was extremely forgiving. Until I found out she puked all over my couch. As I write this we are both nursing coffee and Baileys, and she is applying a copiuos amount of fabric cleaner to my couch. When I say "my couch", I mean the one I lay on and ash all over. Pukes the best thing that could have happened to that couch, it'll finally get cleaned.
The Keith Moon titile is basically just to make me laugh. I doubt Shal would have any idea who he was, though she did a great impersenation of him. (I can't figure out how to spell check this shit, lost a whole post yesterday trying. Suck it and all the misspellings.) Shal blames the low-carb diet for this mishap, I blame the rum and diet coke. Ever see rum, diet coke, salmon, and spinach puke? I have. It's awful. Keith Moon would have been proud of her. Just got a call from Jen C., she apparently had to walk Shal up the stairs of our place and put her on the couch. Shal was trying to sleep in the hallway. I couldn't be prouder of her. Wait, I just learned she was making out with people at Lois and Jerry's. Whore...
Enough about her chaos, more about me! We met the guy for the beach house yesterday, Andy. Mid-twenties, Korean, works in finance. Dead cool kid, I thought he was a little innocent until his fifth drink. At that point he began telling a story that prominently featured the term "cunt". I'm with Dan, an inappropriate lunatic if there ever was one. I'm just as bad, but both of us were trying to get Andy to tone it down. Andy, "So I'm like, 'I speak Spanish you cunt"" I can't even put this comment into context, it was just out of the blue. Dan and I are both doing the "Dude, easy with the C word." If Dan and I are trying to flag you...Let's just say it was extremely funny and awkward. We think Andy will be a fine edition. I guarantee you I will get him to tell that story in front of the elderly. I'm not sure if he even realized that cunt is offensive. I hope not, I hope I get him to say it regularly. Anyone being more offensive than me can only make me look better. Love foreigners!
After that meeting, Dan and I hooked up with Freddy Mac and Tom. Hung out at Hobson's and watched the Mighty Bosox. Flirted with babes, tried to sell my wedding ring, contemplated going to a rub and tug. Usual shit. The weak link was Fred. I love him but his idea of a wild time is Hooters. My version involves cocaine, transgendered hookers, and an undomesticated coyote. As Fred likes to remind me, "Different strokes for different folks." Fred has more integrity than me, I'm a fucking deviant. Speaking of deviants, Tony showed as well. Not sure of the name of the bar we went to next, but it was the joint with the punk band. They tried to charge me $5 to see the band, which I of course blew off. Waited until the bouncer turned his back then made a mad dash up the stairs. Two different lead singers were performing, some chick trying to be Gwen Steffani and a dude doing a Trent Reznor thing. Obviously I was more into Trent. I'm gay like that. Trent was tearing it up but no one was moshing. I tried to goad some folks into moshing but got no takers. The band kicked into "Killing in the Name of" and I could no longer restrain myself. If you know me, and to know me is to love me, (or hate me, whatever...Fuck off.) you know I'm not one to sit on the sidelines and let a good time pass me by. So I dive on the floor in front of the stage and start doing the worm. Did I mention I might have had a cocktail or two? Yeah...I was a little shitty. Anyway, the band fucking loves it. The crowd was generally shocked but started to get into my craziness. I jump up and Trent jumps off the stage into my arms. I march him around while he screams "Fuck you I won't do what you told me!" repeatedly. Good clean fun!
I got to wrap this up, it's beer time! Yanks lost again, Bosox rule, and the Celts are playing the knicks this afternoon. Spark it up Sparky!
Cheers Motherfuckers!