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Rich Presher Will Not Buy Your CD

2003-01-29 - 12:27 p.m.

Bzshh . . . bzsscchhh . . . Hello? I cannae hear you! Hello?! It’s me! Zach! I’m back from the abyss! Sigh. So many explosions and explosive personalities and cars and bars and snarr jar’s of tar. Ok, Ok – I wish jar’s of snarr tar. {look who learned how to write in bold! La de da da!} Seriously. It’s been a little nuts. We’ve got a lot to cover and it’s hotter than a mother out and the memoranic toffee is melting all over the dashboard of my brain. And by that I mean to say that it’s colder than a pair of hot pants on the sweet ass of Peggy Selig. Oh yeah Seltzerfig shake that ass, shake that ass. . . Why do I always have to start blue? Onward . . .

So yeah. Here we are. Rollyollyoxenford. Rewind to 2 weeks ago. Rich came down for the second weekend in a row because, as he had informed me when he called me at the Wallakers that morning, he really wanted to see a band that was playing at the Barley Pub that night, and if Ben and I wanted to go with him, then all the better. I told him Ben may have plans with Ally, but either way I’d go with him. What I couldn’t have known at the time is that Ben definitely didn’t have plans with Ally since they had broken up earlier that day. Or maybe it was the day before. I don’t know – it’s been so long now that the timeline is all screwed up in my head. All I know is that Robert Fulton invented the Steamboat and then sometime after that Ben and Ally broke up. Ok, but I wasn’t going to mention the Ben / Ally break-up quite this early in the entry, so you have to promise to act surprised when you find out about it further down the page ok? Ok, so Rich really wanted to see this band called Dexter Grove. Which I kept wanting to call Dexter Groove. Just like how I always want to call the Doobie Brothers song “China Grove”, “China Groove” instead. Weird. Anyway. One of the main reasons Rich wanted to see them so badly is because he heard they were similar to String Cheese Incident and since Rich wants to have S.C.I’s babies, this was enough reason for him. By the time I got home from work around 6:15 Ben and Rich were drunker than Peggy Selig wrapped in saran wrap on Ladies Night at the Time Out. And yet this night lasts until past 2, so just think of all the drunkosity that will occur. And guess how much of the drunkosity I partook, partaked, partakared in? NONE – because I was the . . . (wait for it) DESIGNATED DRIVER. The D.D. Not Daredevil {I wish}, not devil dogs {I . . . also wish}, and most certainly not Dennis NOR Denise Dubord! Nope, I was designated driver. Isn’t that HILARIOUS! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, get it! Get it?! Get it?! I mean, cause I didn’t have my license for a loooooong long time remember? I didn’t have it? And people would drive me around? And I would get drunk with not a care in the world! Ahhh, those were the days. Well I hope I enjoyed them, since it will . never . happen . again. Seriously Clyde – Rich and Ben had ALREADY polished off a bottle of wine and several black and tans before I got home, because, I quote, “there was nothing else to do”. So I did some laundry and watched the two of them get drunker and drunker by the second as they tried to watch Sopranos but would get distracted if they saw something crazy. Like a color. Or me. Or the second hand on the clock moving. Yeah. This was gonna be fun. Sometime before we left for the bar, Ben related to us several times about how Ally and he broke up. I have heard the story so many times that it makes me want to cry blood. But ask Ben, he’ll be MORE than happy to tell you. No, seriously, he LOVES to tell the story. You think I’m kidding. You think wrong. As I waited for my laundry to finish I set up the modem for the computer in my room. So we are now connected again! Yes! That just means I can stay updated on comics, Alias, ER, and RW/RR. Oh right, and e-mail and homework too. And a little thing called IM. Right before we left, Rich and Ben decided to have a “We’re Leaving For The Bar Drink.” Clyde? So we drive to the Barley Pub with lots of, “Park here,” “No, park here,” “Actually, this is the best spot” and games of gotcha last and poking and prodding and yelling and smelling. It generally made me feel like I was taking my boys to the grocery store and they wouldn’t settle down. Which made me more than prepared to pull a Mrs. Brewster and leave Punky and Brandon at the Barley Pub to fend for themselves. Also, as we were leaving our place, they both inform me that we’re going to a party at Jeff’s after the Pub. Ok. News to me. And I’m not exactly super enthused about it either due to the fact that I’m not really in the market for another black and blue on my temple thanks to your friendly neighborhhod beer can hucked at your head by J.T. (no relation to the Smokehouse of the same name). And what a night to traipse around too! Like every other night in January it's been -27 below zero and Professor Coldheart lords above all of us vulnerable little Care Bears while our Care Bear Stare remains powerless against him. I think there's a gas leak in my brain. Oh wait, that doesn't happen until later. . .

"Did someone say hotpants on Peggy Selig? Amster-dayum!"

The Barley Pub pretty much brakes down like this: #1 - I stare into my glasses of water for about an hour and half. #2 - Ben and Rich play pool, drunkenly & loudly, while attempting to make friends with everyone in the bar. #3 - The guys that Rich and Ben are playing pool with are clearly laughing AT them, not WITH them. I apologize to the guys, saying my friends have been drinking since around 3. They laugh and say they were a little off. They had guessed noon. #4 - The band starts playing. They are ok to good. Nothing special. Rich hoots, hollers, and whistles as loud as possible between songs to show his appreciation and they seem to appreciate Rich’s appreciation. Then comes time for the band to take a break. Meanwhile, Ben keeps trying to romance some girl, but mistakenly calls her “Bison” and oddly enough the girl gets pissed. True Story {guess who learned italics too!} #5 - Rich asks them if they liked playing with String Cheese Incident at the last festival they were at. #6 - Things go horribly wrong. Like so: The lead singer tells Rich that he doesn’t think String Cheese Incident is really all that talented. Uh-oh. So the next thing I know, Rich is walking around the bar telling anyone who will listen, and even those that will not, that this band sucks, and that they shouldn’t insult bands that are better than them, and he starts just yelling, “I was gonna buy your CD Dexter Grove but I’m not going to now! I’m not going to now!” Over. And Over. And Over again. And for those of you that have never been to the Barley Pub, it isn’t the biggest place in the world. So all of this was being done about 6 feet in front of the band that Rich (who once loved it) was now rallying against. #7 - So I finally convince these two that it’s time to go. We were SO close to getting out of there. SO SO SO close. As we are about 15 feet from the door Ben looks at me and “stage whispers”, “Do you know who that is right there?!” and excitedly points at the back of this guy in a leather jacket facing the bar. I told him that I didn’t. So he proceeds to tap the guy on the back and both Racer X and his friend turn around and lo and behold if it isn’t J.J. Cormier and Jojo Morton. People, I can’t make this stuff up. I mean, I can. But I’m not. I mean, if I was making it up, I’d have said we ran into Peggy Selig in some sort of fetching low-cut red sequined number gyrating to and fro on the bar at the Barley Pub. But then we’d just be bordering into personal fantasy. So yeah. J.J. and Jojo. No Gigi. Just J.J. And like I said, JoJo. Oddly enough, J.J. and Jojo weren’t they stereotypical asses one might have expected them to be in high school. Sure, they were still upperclassmen to be feared and awed (why and for what I’m not exactly sure), but Ben Gilbert and Bill Dame seemed to have the asshole part down. So we exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, while I was the only one aware (due to being the sober one) that there was no way the two of them remembered our names. At some point, Dippy or Dopey told J.J. and Jojo that we were going to a party at Jeff’s and they made us promise that we’d call them when we got there to give them directions. We promised. Well, actually, Ben and Rich promised. And then Rich told them that not only was he not buying Dexter Grove's CD, but they shouldn't either. They just stared at him. Or I assume they did, since I was too busy outside trying to call Kristen and tell her about running into J.J. This is where I’d post a link to the story about the time KP, J.J. and I were trapped in a car together, but there was no Online Journal lo those many years ago, so the story must remain swimming in the catacombs of my brain. How sad.

So we got to Jeff’s house around 11:50, having had just enough time for Ben and Rich to have me bring them to the Mobil Station and pick up a 30 Pack. Yes, a 30 Pack. For the two of them. For the two people who, even if they didn’t have one more drop of alcohol, would be drunk until Monday. And while I’m trying to navigate the narrow and dark streets of Portsmouth to get to Jeff’s, Bippy and Boppy are SCREAMING at each other about why they oppose / support Bush. Sigh. I don’t think I need to tell you who was on each side. And each time they’d ask what I thought I’d just automatically disagree with Ben, even though I already hate Bush myself, it was just fun to get Ben all you-wouldn’t-like-me-when-I’m-angry about something like a tax plan. Anyway, so we arrive at Jeff’s. The last time I was there it was snowing like a banshee and colder than fuck. This time it was just colder than fuck. When we walked in Jeff, Amy and assorteds were playing Trivial Pursuit. How relaxing for a sober person like me. Except they quit the game as soon as we got there. As Rich and Ben continued to tell the group that we ran into J.J. and Jojo about 17 different times, I continued to apologize for how incredibly wasted they were. And then, not-so-slowly but surely all of the sketchballs that normally show up at Jeff’s via his roommate J.T. (also known as my Best Friend Forever) start to arrive. Through the back door of course. Now there are lots of people there. And not unlike other times I’ve been at Jeff’s there seems to be a large sect of younger Gilford bi-atches. This group does not include Amy, though clearly some of them are her friends. For all I know, they are friends with the dugong that I work with at the Wallakers. More than likely. It’s a small world and the Gilford Cocksmokers (formerly Eagles) seem to turn up in every corner I turn. And there’s only one thing better than drunk snobby bitches from Gilford. And that’s drunk snobby bitches from Gilford that think they are funny. Hoo-boy. Fun stuff. Now I know that due to me being sober I’m probably being overly critical . . . but I don’t care. These girls were as dumb as bricks and wouldn’t elicit a laugh if they had a raccoon stapled to their face. [And yes, I’m being the bigger man here and neglecting to make a Lauren Fish joke] Anyway, Ally also showed up in the tsunami that brought unto us stupid Gilford girls and wasted ne’er-do-wells from around the Port City. Oh boy, I hope this causes some sort of conflict I thought as I stared at the dart board so hard it almost burst into flames. I’m going to speed this up since it doesn’t really deserve to be taking up so much space in my journal. #1 - Apparently Rich goes in the other room to talk to Ally (and no doubt mention to anyone in the kitchen that Dexter Grove blows goats, we ran into J.J. and Jojo, and Bush’s tax plan blows more goats the Dexter Grove). #2 - At some point Sully walks in. [That’s right kids, I said Sully. Now, Zach, being me, didn’t see Sully, which is odd since he is tall with flaming red hair. But apparently I had become drunk on my own soberness and lost my sight. I don’t know. Bottom line. I didn’t see Sully. And I never do. I don’t find out about his presence until AFTER we leave the party] #3 - Ally and Sully are apparently great friends. I’m surprised that Ben never told me this, but not too surprised considering I never even got so much as a “Hello” from Ally in the two months they were going out, so I guess I shouldn’t expect to know the details of her social circle. Also, I would also place a link here to the sordid little tale involving Ben, Rt. 4's inaugural Christmas party, Sully, Andrew, and a potential throw-down on our front lawn. Good times. Good times. But again, there was no Online Journal then, probably for the best. But it doesn't stop Ben from trying to rehash the whole episode every single motherfucking time that a.) he gets drunk while b.) Sully is around. Which pretty much makes any trip to Margarita's a blast. Mo.ving.on. #4 - I stare at the dart board some more #5 - Rich allegedly tries to say goodbye, hello, something generally nice to Ally before we leave and is greeted with icy indifference and general snobbery. #6 - Ben starts apologizing to Sully for an event that took place so so so so long ago that the un-named principal player in the whole affair gave up caring about it years ago. [Yes Fred and Coty, my eyes began to bleed when this subject was unearthed yet again] #7 - Rich, tired of finding out all his Gods had feet of clay (assuming he worshiped Dexter Grove and Ally) comes out of the kitchen and informs me we should go. I find this to be a good idea since I've been suggesting we leave for the last half hour. Seriously, when you're drunk, you think, "Shit, two o'clock! Hell, that's two more hours until 4 am! Yee-ha!" But when you're sober, it's more like, "Guys, it is the middle of the gosh darn night! We need our sleep!" So I thank Jeff and Amy, give my obligatory evil stare to J.T. and tell Rich and Ben that I'm going downstairs to warm up the car and to meet me out there. #8 - Eons later Ben and Rich meet me outside in the chattering Jeepy McStillSmellsLikeNewUsedCar. But not before I decide to call my ol' pal T.C. in San Fran. I get through and it seems that he and Coty and Kelly and Liz are just LIVING IT UP in California! Not a care in the world! Hang-gliding, parasailing, spelunking (I assume), and eating lots of ice cream and canolis. While I freeze to death in my car waiting for Dee and Dum to meet me outside. And yes, thank you Peanut Gallery, I KNOW I DESERVE THIS. I KNOW I DIDN'T HAVE MY LICENSE BEFORE. #9 - We drive home while Rich and Ben argue the ENTIRE way home about how Ally was or was not rude to Rich. I go to bed as soon as I get home and let those two be responsible for things like going to the bathroom before they go to bed and reading a story. I go to bed.

Then there was Martin Luther King Jr. Day (which I worked, of course, and looked solemly upon the "Bunny Buddies" mural on the ceiling of the Wallakers while I reflected on civil rights and . . . stuff). Tuesday was the first day of class. Oh joy. Not Seven. Nor Blake. Not even Champion. ["That was JoyA Champion, not Joy." - Ed. "Are you sure?" - Z "Yes, I'm sure. That's why I'm the editor and you're not." - Ed. "I thought you were the Ed!" - Z "No you malodorous boob, 'Ed.' is just short for Editor!" - Ed. "Oh." - Z "Yeah." - Ed.] Did someone say more fun with French! Oui, oui! Francais est trop amusant! J'adore les devoirs! J'adore Francais cinq heures pendant le semain! Ahhh, j'adore, j'adore, j'adore! But let's leave Le Premier Au Grenier out of this shall we? So yeah, French 402! For two times more the fun. Even Anne-Emanuelle is back in black. I also have "The Works of Shakespeare's Contemporaries", "Literature of the late 18th Century", and "Critical Analysis of Modern Writing". If you don't see fun in that than you have no soul. On the first day of my Shakespeare's Contemporaries (taught by the same professor I had for Shakespeare) class we had to put on a short play to help better "forge a sense of community". Yeah. So the last time I was in this classroom I had to wear a wig and perform and the very first time I get back? Wig and performing. At least Count Comfit had nothing to do with this little number! With school in session nothing can go wrong! Right? WRONG.

Wednesday night, despite having a 9 o'clock class in the morning and parking lots to navigate I decide to stay up later than usual to watch TV. I even get Ben to stay up later than he usually does so he'll watch Chapelle's Show at 10:30. It was good. We loved it. He went to bed after it. I stayed up longer. Then I went to bed. Then I woke up again. Around 3:45 in the morning. Spider-sense was going off the damn charts. Sniff, sniff? Olfactory alarms clangy clang clanging. I smell gas. Or at least what I think to be gas. Not letting my half slumber get in the way of such facts as, "We don't have gas heat." So I sit up in bed and sniff some more. I also notice that not only can I see my breath (a regular happening in my room) but there are icicles forming on the breath that I can see. Mixed with what I believe to be a lethal gas. So I yell to Ben. Which shouldn't be difficult since our walls and ceilings don't connect, but it is because my voice is shot for like the first 15 minutes after I get up. Worse if that time I'm getting up is only a few hours after going to bed. So I yell until I can actually yell and finally he awakes and I tell him what I smell. He smells nothing. Which isn't odd since Ben couldn't smell Peggy Selig if she was lathered in tuna fish and hiding under his bed. But he does admit it's far colder than even we are used to. And now it's time for a break down: (that last part is to be said like the MC guy does near the end of En Vogue's seminal "(My Love) You're Never Gonna Get It!" Make pretend you don't know it. I will know that you do.) #1 - Ben makes his way to the basement and tries to fight the furnace with all of it's billows of black smoke and choking back the fumes. #2 - Meanwhile, Zach holds down the fort upstairs by promptly panicking. I keep desperately looking around the rooms trying to decided what I'm going to grab in my clutches and hold against my raspy, wheezing chest as I stand in the snow watching the house burn in a firey explosion. The Scotland, P.A. poster won't fit in my pants. My Newsradio collection is too big to save it all. My comics are too heavy. Should I just start loading everything out now? As fast as I can? Or should I just . . . #3 - E-mail tons of people that I know and tell them that Ben and my explosion is imminent. That's what I do. Some are generally concerned. We'll call this the Brett, Hannah S., and Roy group. Some find humor in my perilous situation. We'll call this the Kelly, Liz, Andrea, and Jimbo group. Some just shrug their shoulders and think, there's two less people I'll have to talk to group. We'll call this the Monique and Rick group. Some shed many a tear over my hypothetical corpse since their last words to me were sour. We'll call that the Kate group. Some merely think it was a grand publicity stunt to help draw attention to our new line of goose jerkey. Let's call this the Hannah E. group. Some have still, a week later, never responded and have clearly given me up for dead. We'll call this the Mad Dog group. Lastly, there were some that wanted to talk about the highpoints of Follow That Bird. We'll call that the Fred group. See below for explanation. #4 - Ben calls the Gas Company. But since it wasn't really gas, I assume he really called the Oil Company. The guy said he'd be there in a half hour. So Ben and I did the only thing we could do at 4 in the morning with no heat. We sat in the living room wrapped in 16 different blankets (seperately, not together you freaks) and watched Follow That Bird. Oh baby. Follow That Bird. How I love Follow That Bird. So does Fred, clearly. Super Grover, Dave Thomas and Joe Flaherty, that butch beauty Miss Finch, Bert & Ernie flying the plane upside down and losing Bert's bottlecap collection. Ahhhhh. People, trust me here - if you lose your heat in the middle of the night and everything you own (including yourself) reeks of oil, there's only one thing you should do. Sit down with a glass of milk and watch Follow That Bird. You'll be glad you did. #5 - The Oil Guy comes. Tells Ben that the guy that sold him the house lied to him about having the furnace serviced. He said it was clogged up and hadn't been cleaned or serviced in years. How long? Well, there was a Boston Sunday Globe acting as a catch under the furnace. A Globe from May. May, 1934. It's my own fault for bringing up the Dust Bowl last time. Damn me. #6 - Ben goes to work and tries not to pass out while there and I go to school and promptly DO pass out in class. Hooray!

[What the house would have looked like had it exploded. And if we lived on a house boat. That'd be cool. Because I could play with the seahorses all day long. If it was salt water. Seahorses are hermaphrodites. Guess who else is? Guess? Nothing? I'll give you a hint: It's Peggy Selig. Oh wait . . . did I give it away?]

Before I forget I should mention that Scott got married. His last name is still Brown since he decided to be all modern and not take the woman's name. So it's Scott and Amy Brown. I didn't make the wedding, unfortunately, as it was moved up to right after Christmas due to a family emergency. I didn't even know it took place until after it happened when Scotty waltzed into the Wallakers with a ring on his finger. Let's hope Amy can make an honest man out of him, no? Speaking of married Sachems, I also talked to Molly Sunderlin last week. Or you might know her better as Molly DeMark. You remember! Little blond girl who ran all over the place and had a blood feud with Gretchin Earwig, I mean Wernig. You remember! Blueberry muffins! Chia Pets! Her love of the video game R. C. Pro-Am. Wait . . . maybe I'm thinkig of someone else on that last one. . . Anyway, she's doing well. Teaching in Chicago. Hasn't seen either of the Maura's as far as I know.

What's that? I have to go to class and I'm as sick of writing this long ass entry as you people probably are of reading it? Well. This just means I will stop now and cover Ben's big boisterous b-day party next time. As well as some odd meetings I've had with people on campus. As well as some various goings-on at worky work. It won't be a super long entry so I'll either write it tomorrow or early Friday. I promise. I super promise. Until then, I leave you with one of the Wallaker's newest products! Vikings! Playmobil Vikings! With Sea Monsters! Who doesn't love Sea Monsters?! I sure love 'em!

"Sea Monster says: 'I miss you Justin Powers!'"

It's been real,

Crispus

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