Sunday, August 29, 2004

A Moment Of Silence

I was talking to Jack on the phone last Thursday when he gave me some really bad news (I think it is anyway). It seems one of the icons of our youth has been bulldozed. He suggested I write about it and it has been on my mind all weekend. I don't really now where to start or what direction to move in. I'm not sure I can do this story justice.

The place used to be called "The Armadillo Run". It was a seedy little bar set back in an older lower middle class neighborhood along the river. There wasn't any view of the river so it wasn't really prime real estate. It was across the street from a church which resulted in numerous feuds over the years. There is a little known Texas law which states that a bars front door cannot be within 500 feet of a churches front door, so both establishments were always building on, or moving their doors to another part of the building.

Over the years the bar changed hands and changed names several times, but it will always be "The Armadillo Run" to Jack and I. At one point in time it was famous for having the largest painting of a Texas flag. The flag was painted on the ceiling right above the dance floor. It was the kind of place that you could see daylight through the bullet holes in the walls. The clientele consisted of bikers, hippies, cowboys, rednecks, cousin lovers, and every kind of social scum imaginable. It was run down, unsafe, and always in a general state of disrepair. I had some of the best times of my life in that place.

A lot of the "firsts" in my life happened at "The Run". Here's a short list.

First bartending job (under paid)
First bouncing job (I'm not a violent guy)
First time I saw I guy get beat with a car antenna (wait that's MY car antenna)
First time I saw a guy get beat with a claw hammer (not mine)
First time a girl ever asked me to dance (that's right the Trashman can 2 step with the best of them)
First time I danced with an ugly girl so she would buy me drinks (I danced with her all night)
First time I said no to sex (see above, same girl and I was really drunk, hardest thing I ever did in my life)
First time I had sex in the FRONT seat of a car (she was too fat to get in the back seat)
First time I had sex on the hood of a car (she wasn't fat, no dents)
First time I had sex on the tailgate of a truck (again not fat, that only happened once....and a while)
First semi public blow job (bartender was a coke whore and she needed money for some blow, so to speak)
First time I smoked weed in the broad daylight in a car (smoke too thick to see out the windows)
First time I ever saw a lawn and garden garbage bag full of marijuana (HOLY SHIT)
First time I ever stole a girl from a friend (he was the drummer and I used the opportunity to dance her right out to my car)
First time I fell in love (once again the drummers girl)
First and only time I wore an adult diaper (Halloween party and I won third place)
First time I won the football pool (Dallas beat somebody insignificant)

Jack even had one of his "firsts" there. It was the first time he had a drink in a bar. He was underage (16), I was there. It was all his idea, I had nothing to do with his corruption.

Now I know this doesn't mean anything to some of you, but to me it's the death of an era. When Jack told me about the bulldozing I actually got a lump in my throat. It wasn't but a month ago I drove by the place to show Jen where I learned a lot about life. It was still in business, it had a new name but there were cars in the parking lot and the doors were open. It was one of those places that you know will always be there. I haven't seen my old friends from there in years but all weekend their faces played through my mind like a movie. It's been 20 years since I walked through the doors of "The Run" and now I'll never get to do it again. I wonder what other doors I'll never pass through again.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Blame It On The White Man

I was going to post a different story tonight to kind of go along with the last story. I figured since I had mentioned the subject of backdoor sex I might as well stay there. But now I'm mad as hell.

This afternoon Trashman Jr. burst into the house yelling "Mom, Dad come quick the police are here because me and Master (not his real name, but close enough to sound exactly like the word means) got into a fight."

Now , Master is the son of the guy from across the street . You know the guy that went to jail for exposing himself. I would add a link if I knew how, but the post is called "It Was A Simpler Time". Anyway back to the issue. Turns out Trashman Jr. and Master got into a fight over some silly shit. Master called T.J., "White Boy", "Fat Bitch", Mother Fucker" and assorted other names. Now I'm sure my son is not innocent in all of this, but I know not once did my boy go racial (he is aware of the ramifications). There were several witnesses to the incident. They all say Master pushed T.J. first and started calling him names. The story goes something like this from the details I've gathered.

Masters pants fell down. (Not unusual since he wears them by his knees anyway.)
T3 (Trashman III): "Pull your pants up"
Master: "What you say fat bitch?"
T.J. "What did you call my brother?"
Master (in T.J.s face): "I called him a fat bitch."
T.J. (waving his hand and laughing): "You're breath stinks. I can smell it for miles."
Master: "Fuck you Honky." (I'm not kidding folks he said honky)
T.J. (bewildered): "honky? uuuhhhhh O.K."
Master shoves T.J.
POP POP...T.J. nails Master twice in the face.
Master leaves and comes back with a dogs choker chain wrapped around his hand.
Master: "Fuck you White Boy. Yo Granny is a Ho. Yo whole family is ho's. Yo Mamma is a lunatic. Yo Daddy is Fat."
T.J. : "Well at least my Daddy didn't go to jail."
Master swings with the wrapped hand grazing T.J.s chest.
POP POP...T.J. nails Master twice more in the face.

Somebody called the cops because Master had a golf bag with clubs and tennis rackets to use as weapons. These were brought by one of his friends. Master said he needed them because everybody was going to jump him. BULLSHIT!!! The cops saw it for what it was, just kids being stupid and they left.

Master stood in his front yard yelling and screaming for at least 10 minutes blaming his little brother for what happened. I thought it was finished, boy was I wrong.

Two hours later Mr. Pervert and his wife are knocking on my door demanding to know why the cops were called. Where were they two hours ago? Jen and I tried to explain it was nothing just kids being kids. The whole while Master is screaming it's T.J.s fault. He said this, he said that. Not once did he mention what he had said. We were told that T.J. didn't need to upset Master like that...BLAH...BLAH...BLAH. I caught the kid in several lies and busted him on the spot not once did his parents say a word to him. His mom was worried that CPS would be notified (WHY would CPS be notified...unless you already have a file on you?). From there they went to see the parent's that witnessed the whole thing. Jen and I went back inside to do our own thing, thinking once again it was over. I sent T.J. to roll the garbage out by the curb, when he came back inside he asked to speak to Jen and I in private away from T3.

Trashman: "What's the problem?"
Trashman Jr :"When I took the trash out I heard A.J. talking to Master"
Trashman: "and?"
Trashman Jr : "He was yelling at Master for getting he ass whooped by a white boy."
Trashman: "Don't worry about it son, go play a game or something."

Not once did my son say or do or even think anything racial. If he had it would have come out of his ever running mouth. I'm sure his being the character that he is did not help to diffuse the situation any. But the nerve of that perverted piece of shit. I mean WHAT THE FUCK, are white people the only ones that are supposed to teach our children to not be racial? Are we the only ones that should teach our children to accept everybody for who they are not what they are? I try to teach my kids right and wrong. I know I'm wrong a lot, that sort of makes me an expert. I am a redneck(it means something different to me than most people), I believe in some racial generalizations, I don't believe in the separation of the races, I believe that people should be accepted or not on their actions not their heritage. I know which of these things to teach my kids and which ones to avoid like the plague. I grew up in a racist home, I will not teach my kids to think the way I was brought up. It's just wrong. Yet I have to live with the fact that fucking idiot across the street is teaching his kids about the "WHITE DEVIL". I also have issues with a black man naming his son so that the white man will have to call him masta. Next thing you know he's going to knock on my door wanting slavery reparations.

Sunday, August 22, 2004

Nocturnal Emissions

It seems dreams are the subject of the week. I have been wondering if I should share this or not. I have decided to go ahead and tell all, after all honesty is the best policy.

There is nothing quite like a gooey dream. I'm man enough to admit I still have them from time to time. Two days ago it was time. What makes this one unusual is it involved Paris Hilton. Now I know some people find PH attractive but I'm not one of them. However Nicole Richie is a different story. I do after all like my women a lot on the trashy side.

I won't go into full detail on this dream, just suffice to say I was knocking on PH's back door. Anyway right at the most crucial moment I woke up (I'm sorry but it feels great). I was laying there at 3:30 am with my shorts full of goo wondering, why PH. After the euphoria subsided I got up and while still half asleep, took a shower paying extra attention to some key parts of my body.

After exiting the shower I was standing in the bathroom toweling off, when I looked in the mirror. Now remember I'm still half asleep. My eyes wandered down my finely sculpted body to my Johnson. To my horror I saw red and green lines running all over it (now I'm fully awake). My heart is beating out of my chest, my eyes are going fuzzy and the only thing I can think of is it's some kind of medical condition that's going to require amputation. I scream out loud "WHAT the hell is that?"

Then I remembered..... It's just a tattoo.

Saturday, August 14, 2004

Nine Months

Freedom was so close, I could smell it. Ten more years of hard labor and I was a free man. My youngest would be 18 and on his way to college or the military. Then I stuck my foot in it (Freudian slip?). Yep. That's right. You heard it here first. The Trashman is going to be a daddy again.

Jen took a E.P.T. today, you know one of those where you get two pink lines for pregnant and one pink line for not pregnant. Well this thing had 22 dark red lines and PREGNANT written all over it. So another little trash or trashette is on the way. She is only about a month along because I know when it happened. It was the last time we had a little time to ourselves. That will never happen again, at least for another 18 years anyway.

We sat the boys down to let them know what was going on. Trashman III didn't have any problems with it. Trashman Jr. was a whole different story. It went something like this:
Trashman: "Boys, we have something to tell you."
Trashman Jr. (rolling his eyes): "What now?"
Trashman: "Your mom is going to have a baby"
TrashmanIII: "O.K."
Trashman Jr. : "NO. NO. NO. I don't want another sibling."
I didn't even know he knew what sibling meant.
Jen: "Well, it's going to happen and there is nothing you can do about it."
At this point Jen left the room to do something.
Trashman Jr. : "Dad, can't we just get a puppy instead?"
Trashman: "It's to late now. What's done is done."
Trashman Jr. : "Yeah, but don't you have to do something to make mom pregnant?"
Trashman: "I already did that."
Trashman Jr. (with in horror) : "Why did you have to do that?"
Trashman (laughing): "Sometimes a man gots to do what a man gots to do."
Trashman Jr. (disgusted): " EEEEEWWWWWW DAD."
Jen came back into the room.
Jen: "I don't want to hear anymore about it. I could use some support."
Trashman Jr. (with more sarcasm than I ever heard in my life): "Well, congratulations."

What surprises me most is the morning of the crime (when Jen got pregnant), I had yakked out a fresh one. So I figured we could do the do and be safe. I never thought in a million years I could pack that much punch. Turns out I may be carrying a derringer but it's a .50 cal. derringer.

Now, I need to get her close enough to the stove to chain her to it, throw away her shoes, and she'll be right where I want her.

Sunday, August 08, 2004

Get Back In The Kitchen

Alright ladies read the whole thing before you decide to string me up. This will probably piss a few of you off, but if I have to, I have to. You will also find that I contradict myself a lot, I am a complex individual after all. Now onto the matter at hand.

It has always been my contention that men and women were not equal. There is man's work and woman's work, these are two different things. I'm not saying women shouldn't be paid equal wages. If she can do equal work then she should get equal pay. The thing is she shouldn't be doing man's work. A man's work is outside the home dealing with the daily grind and coming home to a loving family. A woman's work is building that loving family. I did not come by this opinion on my own. I was raised by my mother (mostly) and she helped to build my chauvinistic beliefs.

I strongly believe that a lot of the problems with society today is due to the fact that moms are not staying at home. Are you mad yet? Moms used to stay at home and take care of the children and Dads went to work and paid the bills. Times were good. Somewhere along the way everything got all screwed up. Women decided they needed a "career". What's wrong with raising the children? Sounds like a lifetime job to me.

Men also decided they didn't need to take care of there own. They just ran around knocking up any girl that would lay down with them and why not because "It's the girls responsibility to not get pregnant."Why? Because their mother didn't teach them right from wrong. It's a mother that teaches you to face up to your responsibilities. Your dad only teaches you how to catch. It's also the mothers responsibility to teach their daughters to keep there legs closed. THAT can not be learned from a man and it's a subject no man should ever talk about to his daughter. Guys if you are a single father, go to an aunt or grandmother or if you have to, hire someone, Let your daughters learn about the birds and the bees from a woman. There is no way in hell we can put it into a perspective they could learn from. After all we are built differently.

Women want equal rights. Are you kidding me? Haven't you figured out equal rights for women are a step backwards? You should be put on a pedestal and revered. You have evolved better than us. You have the ability to feel. We have the ability to fight. You have the ability to love. We have the ability to destroy. You should have the door opened and held for you. You should have your chair pulled out for you. You should have heavy things carried and moved for you. No, you want to open your own door, pull out your own chair, carry you own things. What's wrong with you?

I realize that in today's society it's not reasonable for a woman to stay at home and raise the kids. I know it takes a double income to make it with the cost of living as high as it is. My wife works, I'm not happy about it, but that's the way it is. Hell I'm jobless right now, but when I'm at work she makes more than I do. That doesn't even upset me. What upsets me is I should be at work and she should be raising the kids. I can't give them what they need no matter how hard I try.

I'm not saying women should cook, and clean and be chained to the stove barefoot and pregnant. (Even if it does sound like heaven.) How about now, are you mad now? I cook, clean, do dishes, wash laundry, and all sorts of women's work. I even try to have supper on the table when Jen gets home. It better be warm too, she doesn't like cold food. Seriously, women have the right to work as much as any man, but if your going to have kids, do your damnedest to stay home and raise them.

When I was knee high to a grasshopper my mom stayed at home and she was a positive role model. My father came home at night and doled out any necessary punishment, which wasn't very often because my mom raised me right. She gave me the love and encouragement that a child needs to grow up right. Unfortunately they got divorced and everything changed.

My mom had to get a job to pay the bills, so for two years I didn't have a father or a mother. Then my real father showed up when I was eight. My mom kept working to pay the bills because his money was beer money. So now I had a drunk father and my mom was always at work. Now see if she had stayed in the kitchen I would have been getting my love and encouragement. But instead I was learning how to cuss, play pool, and steal cars.

Monday, August 02, 2004

Highway To Hell

The day before we were supposed to leave Phoenix, U-Haul still had not called to confirm the reservation. I had The Wife call them. It's a good thing I did, they didn't have our truck. We were assured they would have a truck the next morning even if it meant they would have to upgrade us to the biggest truck. Cool. More room to move more shit.

The next morning we were sent to the west valley to pick up the truck. I was already mad for having to go 20 miles out of the way. When we got to Joe Schmucks U-Haul we were informed the truck we were supposed to pick up was not road worthy. This is where Mr. Schmuck and I had a little disagreement. I was informed that if I did not leave his shop I wouldn't get any truck at all. From there we traveled all the way back to a shop a few blocks from our house and picked up a truck that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. It was not the upgrade we were promised, but I just wanted to get out of Phoenix, so we took it.

It took a whole day to pack the truck. This was after having packed my friends J. And T's (they're brothers) truck the day before. We proceeded to J's house to finish packing. I took one of our dogs (Red) to a no kill shelter. We decided to take the other dog (Elvis) with us. It was going to cost a lot more for a pet deposit but we had gotten him for the boys for Christmas a year ago.

We spent the last night in Phoenix at J's house. The next morning while we were making the last few adjustments and picking up road supplies (chips, soda, water, ice, etc.), The Wife called me and told me Elvis got loose, ran down the off ramp on the highway and got hit by a car. Elvis had left the building. J. And I rushed back to the house and I broke the news to my boys. I've got to give them credit, they took it better than I expected.The Wife on the other hand saw the whole thing and still mourns for Elvis. She's just emotional like that.

After everything was calmed down, we loaded the car on the car hauler and loaded ourselves into various vehicles (me and Trashman Jr. in the U-Haul pulling the hauler, T. in the Ryder, The Wife and my youngest in J's truck and J. followed in the van with his dogs Kookie and Banner four hours later). I turned the key and the check engine light came on. I turned the truck off and called U-Haul, the rep said " Don't worry, you'll be O.K."
Sure I will, I'm going half way across the country in a truck with lights blinking in the dash.

After about two hours on the road with a maximum speed of 55 Trashman Jr. started complaining about the heat. I told him roll up the windows and I cranked up the air conditioner. NOTHING. I was stuck in the desert in a U-Haul with blinking warning lights and no fucking A/C. This trip was starting to look better.

J. caught up with us in New Mexico somewhere. We got a motel for the night and got some much needed rest.

The next day we were back on the road headed for the promised land. That's Texas for all ya'll less fortunate types that were not graced by God with being born in The Great State. We passed through the border check in New Mexico with only a minimal amount of fanfare. The guard banged on my truck yelling at me to stop (he scared the shit out of me). Turns out the rolling stairs they use to look on top of trucks were careening across the road due to high winds.

We got caught in a rain storm in El Paso. This was not your ordinary rain storm. This was a hail stones as big as golf balls, sheets of water, wrath of God type of rain storm. Outside of El Paso J. drove up by me signaling me to call him. For some reason I could call him but he could not call me. The Wife had called him, seems we lost her somewhere in El Paso. We pulled over hoping she would call him again, about that time she pulled up behind us. Turns out she only thought she was lost.

We headed out again. Another hour down the road J. pulled the van over because he was having some issues with it. We decided to try to make it to the next town. Fifteen minutes later we were taking the Tracker off the car hauler and trying to squeeze the van on. The transmission was shot and the van was two inches too wide for the trailer. We managed to get it on with only a small amount of bending in the trailer. The van stuck off the back of the hauler by two feet, so we transferred The Wife into the Tracker, my youngest into the Ryder with T., and J. and his two dogs into the pick up. Maximum speed now 45 mph.

On the road again. Fuck you Willie, I don't ever want to be on the road again. In Ozona we pulled off the interstate to fuel up (the trucks and ourselves). T. Caught the rear bumper of the Ryder in the asphalt pulling into the station. It was stuck. The Wife locked the keys in the Tracker, thank God the back window unzips. We tried every way we could to unstick that damn truck, it wasn't moving. The police showed up and called a wrecker (that's going to cost us) . Some guy showed up and asked if we needed help. He said he could pull us out. We told him to go ahead and try. We weren't too sure he could do it, he only had a Dodge Ram and we had already tried the mighty U-Haul. You only need to know one thing son. Can you say HEMI? He pulled that Ryder out like it was sliding on ice. Thank you to the Dodge brothers and the kind stranger in Ozona. After he unhooked the chain he jumped back into the Dodge and drove off into the night(no cost). Who was that masked man?

We pulled into a parking lot for a couple hours of sleep and headed out when the sun came up. A few hours later we had finally reached The Patch, we unloaded J. And T's truck. I dropped my kids off at my Moms and called my dear friend Jack.

Me, The Wife, Jack, J. And T. Drove for two hours to our new home. After I broke a few dozen branches off the tree backing into the driveway, we were there. One last truck to unload. Jack did most of the work, I've never seen anyone move like he did that night. When I called him he had just got home from working all night and without hesitation he drove for two hours to help me unload a truck. It took about two hours to unload and then he had a two hour drive home. He is a wildman, while the rest of us were dragging ass (me being the worst offender), he was running up and down the ramp, carrying load after load. He did take a long enough break to dance in my front yard with a skull carved on the end of a big stick. We were finally there.

This was the absolute worst trip of my life and I've had a few. I would do it all over again and again. Because no matter how bad the trip was, at the end, I've got my friend Jack.