The Full Hot Orator (wickedflea) wrote,
The Full Hot Orator

Changing a tail light is shockingly difficult. SHOCKINGLY, I say. At least it is on my car. I spent half an hour at lunch fiddling with it, and I still didn't get it changed. You have to pull off this big piece of on the inside of the trunk, and then you have to reach in and somehow remove three bolt thingies, one of which you can barely see, much less get a wrench or a socket on. It's completely flickded.

This is what my Yahoo inbox looks like right now:

Now, call me crazy, but shouldn't one of the first things a spam filter should do be to flag everything with "SEXUALLY EXPLICIT" in the subject line as spam?

Oh well.

Heh. scottobear mentioned seeing the Squirrel Nut Zippers last night, and it got me thinking about this band called Cafe Des Moines that was from Starkville. Late '80s, early '90s. One of their guitar players, Jimbo Mathus, went on to play in the Squirrel Nut Zippers. (He also, I just learned from Wikipedia, played in a high school garage band called Johnny Vomit and the Dry Heaves. This is kinda funny to me because I myself played in a high school garage band called Dry Heave. I never went on to greater musical success, though. Damn that.) Cafe Des Moines's drummer ended up moving to L.A. and hooking up with some guys from the same area of Mississippi, and they became Blind Melon. You know, the Bee Girl group. And Tray Batson moved to North Carolina and became . . . Baron von Rumblebuss! Craziness.

Anyway. Cafe Des Moines wasn't exactly my cup of tea at the time--too college-rockish for me--but they were a good band, and it'd be fun to hear them again. They did this one tune called "Tuna is a Friend of Mine" that always made me laff.

Man. Starkville music. Years ago I had a friend named Steve who was always around the music scene, but he wasn't in a band because he didn't play an instrument. But eventually he got a bad-ass Rickenbacker bass and put together a pussy-punk band called White Trash Superman, which toured a bit and put out a record, I think. I practiced with them a couple of times, but my pussy-punk chops weren't quite up to snuff. Anyway, I understand that now Steve goes by the moniker Eugene Donkey and plays a friggin' upright bass in some kind of twisted country punk band called . . . Superstar Donkey Donkey.

Steve went with Wes and me to see GWAR in New Orleans one time. We left after we got off work at the bar and drove down in the middle of the night. Of course, when we got there, we had nowhere to stay because we were broke as fuck, due in no small part to the fact that our harlot boss could never seem to cut a paycheck that didn't bounce.

Hmm. This is going to be a long story, longer than I need to write right now. Some highlights of the trip:

*Stopping at a Krystal in Hattiesburg to be served cold dog food disguised as chili burgers by a staff that was, to a person, drunk as hell.

*Sleeping in Steve's van in the Jax Brewery parking lot.

*Not having much luck sleeping in a filthy van, leaving at 6 a.m. to go drinking and being hit on by a stripper in Molly's on Toulouse, which is not a strip club.

*Wes having the bright idea to visit his lesbian former homecoming queen friend Leigh, whom he'd befriended when they worked together at a Hallmark shop in Starkville. We went to one Hallmark location and were told she had transferred to another store, so we went off in search of it, on foot because Steve was still sleeping in the van. We trudged all over the city and found ourselves in the middle of some godforsaken industrial section of town where there were no stores of any kind, much less an ever-loving Hallmark shop. And then, just as we were giving up, the bottom dropped out of the sky and we got caught in the middle of a torrential downpour.

*Finally getting back to the van and now having to try to sleep in a filthy van when we were WET AS PIGS. And it was freakin' COLD.

*Getting stood up by the stripper at the club she'd told us to visit her at that evening.

*Having to wait two hours for GWAR to go on because Slymenstra Hymen was having some kind of love spat with Flipper's guitarist.

*Finally dropping off to sleep in the van on the way back.

*About two minutes later, being awakened by a blast of frigid air being let in through the driver's side window, which Steve was hanging his head out of like a dog because he was trying to stay awake and he thought the air would invigorate him.
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