kingtoad.org

Cruel and fickle world! Why do you taunt me so? Well stop it, ya fuck!
Yesterday I went to three whole parties. A new world’s record for most parties I went to yesterday!!! This is not me bragging, though, this is the set up for some more hard-core complaining.

Party #1: A graduation party for my sister’s husband’s kid. Don’t really know him, but I wanted to put in an appearance, cuz I’m trying to take a more active role in the Mighty Weird Adventures of My Mighty Weird Family. The festivities were like 20 miles away, but my nephew Dustin lives in I.C. and was good enough to pick me up on his way out there. I was, as expected, thoroughly out of place among the rural Iowan crowd. Which is fine, and it was amusing that my uncanny ability to clear out any section at any party, just by sitting quietly, held true: even if I happened to be sitting at the picnic tables in the garage where all the food and beverages were (I may be exaggerating my effect on things here a bit; but just a bit). Anyways, it was nice to see my sisters and (some of) their kids, and there were a couple dogs around who I liked (I don’t generally like dogs much at all, so I guess TWO is pretty good). The main problem was just, you know, if somebody’s your ride you’re pretty much at their mercy. Especially if they’re your 20 mile ride. And sitting around at a graduation party in Tiny Town, IA for 3 hours is, to me anyway, a really, really long time. But I don’t wanna gripe too awful much (yet): it was nice of my nephew to tote his man-child of an uncle around, and it was nice to have some actual conversations with the lad on the way there and back; hadn’t really gotten the chance to talk to him in mega-ages. But, yeah, party #1 did leave me absolutely exhausted and weakened for the time spent at…

Party #2: This was a booze and food party that Tabey had been invited to. It was at a dude’s house we both know a bit, but I’m told it wasn’t really his party, he was just letting it be held at his house… I guess. Whatever. Anyway, I was pretty much dead on my feet, and the only reason I had any interest at all in going was that it had been suggested I might be able to get some relief. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Couldn’t, didn’t, haven’t. Here’s a hypothetical for you: what if you had some lame-ass condition no doctors could diagnose that pretty much left you, on a good day, feeling like a piece of shit, and on a bad day, left you absolutely crippled and immobilized by pain? And, just for kicks, let’s say that the ONLY motherfucking thing you’ve been able to find that successfully provides fairly consistent relief is that one forbidden plant everybody always talks about. The one the hippies like and the shit-head asshole government regime hates. Pisses me the fuck off to no end. I mean, I’m all for the hippies being allowed to smoke it and listen to jam bands and hug and everything, but honestly, nearer and dearer to my heart currently is the fact that it can, godFUCKINdammit, be a safe and effective form of pain management for lots of people dealing with some really, really nasty shit. Fuck you, you stupid, stupid, stupid government. Go pulverize your stupid government liver and incinerate your dumbass government lungs, dipshit son of a butthole motherfucker. And speaking of liver-pulverizing (not to mention hypocrisy)…

Party #3: This me and my friends went to directly after #2. There were only 3 people there when we arrived, and I’m not sure if you can have 3 people qualify as a party or not. No matter, though, seeing as how I hate crowds… and people in general… and these 3 people I actually knew and liked, so really that’s pretty ideal, right? Normally I’m sure I would have enjoyed myself fine, but by this point I was totally feeling like a throbbing mass of raw nerves and bile and I just wanted to be unconscious. I laid on the floor and sweated and despaired for… I have no idea, actually. An hour or two? Meanwhile, the girls gave the boys make-overs and everybody had a silly good time (not me of course, and not Alyssa, either: she was having ailments of her own). But then eventually, and quite unexpectedly, I suddenly started to feel OK. Naturally, I immediately took this a my cue to start drinking. I’m not usually a fan of the stuff particularly, and I’m not really supposed to have much of any liquor, on account of my meds are bad enough for my liver on their own. But you know the routine: long, frustrating day, overall sense of hopelessness — I bet imbibing some government-sanctioned poison will do the trick! And I guess it did, in its own sickly, desperate, all-too-fleeting way. Happy happy happy. All’s well that ends well. I be sarcasm, Chaz! Yngh.