Raise a toast to St. Joe Strummer. (Day 91)

Have you ever started working on a five year plan?

What does it include? How have you went about getting what it is you placed at that list, and have you ever had to compromise one until you get to the other.

I suppose you could say I'm working on a five year plan, at least in my head, but I think here in the next few days I might get around to actually posting it here.

Heads up. From here on out, this post contains the gratuitous glorification of drinking, exploration, and love for Denny's. All hail sweet lady alcohol, the cause of, and answer to all of most my problems:

"All my money's been spent
on a face lift via alcohol
this sinner repents
to an empty bathroom reflection." - Alkaline Trio, Old School Reasons.

I never really got around to talking about what happened over this weekend. Sure, there were the normal repeat offenders; drinking way to late into the night, butchering songs while singing them slightly intoxicated while on the way to Austins. Eating the fuck out of some of the most delicious burritos ever crafted. I'm dead serious.

But after most of hijinx were done Saturday, Austin took his dog Collin for a walk, and I wound up coming along. I know that sounds kind of...gay...two young men walking a dog late at night. Whatever, I don't care.

But heres the thing: Every time I get drunk or inebriated, I always want to explore the city I'm in. Everything, and I'm pretty sure this is a proven fact, everything is better in the night. The way the streetlights illuminate everything the sun forgot with it's shadows, I don't know.

But I really do love it. Most of my favorite drunken meanderings have taken place with Austin, actually.

One time at his old apartment complex in Casa Grande, this place called the Colony, which is this gated, semi-nice apartment complex. During the day, it's kind of whatever, theres literally nothing special about it. But drunkenly at 1am, it used to be a different beast of burden.

We used to drink quite a bit when we were younger, for whatever reason or the other. I think more or less it was more to signify the kind of...catching up we were doing, since predominantly throughout our high school careers, we didn't do much of any of those fun food groups. Not too much promiscuity, hardly any drinking, and little to no drug use whatsoever.

I don't really regret that decision at all, either. I don't have a kid or a crippling meth addiction, and I don't need a six pack in the morning just to start the day, either. Things have changed, or maybe modified and tweaked since then. Sure, take away drinking and whatever, and I'll starve to death, but still...it's not something I'm dependent on.

But so his complex during the night, when you're messed up, especially on a Friday night, was just amazing. Drinking really actually enhances my vision, because it's so crappy regularly, it just can't get any worse. But lights, and everything really seem to pierce, and I actually love that, especially on cold nights stumbling with two drinks and hand and four in your hoodie pockets.

There were a lot of Alkaline Trio songs sung loudly with arms flung over friends shoulders into the night. In fact, the Alkaline Trio may in fact be the founding reason for our friendship. God knows we haven't seen each other sober since 2004.

But so we'd walk out into the night, bottle in hand to see what the night had in store for us. I really don't think the grass will ever be green in some parts of that complex...due to, you know...the urinating. I have a very strict urinating outside policy when I'm drunk, because I'm considerate...thats what I do.

But the rest of the complex seemed to be on the same page with us, too. I can't count the times it happened where we'd both wind up at separate parties during the night, only to drunkenly stumble into each other hours later.

The interesting thing though, about his complex, was that it's divided by this huge (and I mean massive) not quite park area, but it's this huge lawn with a sidewalk through it, and then after that theres another portion of the complex. But the lawn is divided, by both sides, with a steel gate thats locked at about 10 pm, because I guess they don't want the locals fraternizing or plotting against glorious leader, the Colony.

In fact, I can't fault it. It is like the Colonial times. Theres a North/South division. But being the flag wavers of freedom that Austin and I are, we crossed enemy lines to really bring unity to the other side of the Colony. It's patriotic if you think about it that way, actually. We found out that this guy, who we weren't really close to in High School (this is all post high school settings, mind you) lived on the opposite side of the Colony, so we decided we'd pay him visits.

We went there constantly, and I really apologize to the dude. He doesn't drink or anything, or at least didn't because his dad was a prick alcoholic, but he was cool with us being there drunk. But I feel bad because of the volume of which we visited drunkenly, and demanded Tupac be played loudly.

When you got the lock open on our side, you had to prop it open with a rock or something so you could get back to your original destination, and sleep like a little drunken angel in the comfort of four walls on the floor, like every God fearing American should be entitled too. One night I ran out out of beer, and walked back from the dudes apartment to Austins. I loaded up with a bunch of beers, about six (and yeah, Austin and I polished off at least 20 every time we did this) and went back to the other guys apartment.

I'd like to say something first. While I've stated above my passion for drunken exploration, I haven't stated that absolutely no distance whatsoever, is inconceivable to me when I'm intoxicated.

There was a time in Anaheim, where Austin and I, after having polished off quite a few drinks, decided we needed Denny's, and we needed it then and there. For you East Coasters, thats Friendly's, and Friendly's, I hate to say this West Coast...beats the fuck out of Denny's.

For those of you who don't know, Friendly's has a thing on their menu called the "Happy Ending". I don't care if it's puppy veal, with the puppy still whimpering, coated in the blood of my loved ones, and said puppy's mother with a glaze of all my broken dreams...if it's called the Happy Ending, I'm eating it and I'm going to fucking love it.

The waitresses, I think its company policy, have to be a ten. And the service is top effing notch, and when you're there drunk, they don't mind if you have an open container.

Some people suggest IHOP, and to those people I point at my dick, and say "suck this". IHOP, while okay for late night hang outs, is not fun when drunk. It does not have the same aura as Denny's or Friendly's, and I know there are a bunch of you (seeing as how you read me, this isn't even an assumption) who know exactly what it is I'm talking about.

Anyway, I've noticed in California that apparently on every corner theres a Denny's. And East Coast, if it were the same for Friendly's...I might have stayed.

Denny's is a safe haven, the promised land when your drunk at 3am, 4m and need to eat something, want to make new friends with the staff working over night. Theres just something, SOMETHING about those god damned booths thats medicinal.

The glow of the sign...it might as well be compared to the scene in Shaun of The Dead, where Shaun and Ed have their little tiff, and then Shaun stands up on the podium in front of all the zombies and waves his arms. It's a LOT like that, actually.

I want to go to there.

Well, anyway, it'd been a while since I'd seen Austin. He had moved to California, and was moving back, so I decided to take the bus overnight out there, hang out for a bit and then drive back with him.

Well, anyway, we were pretty lit. As far as drinking goes, my drinking buddy/guy I consider like a brother, moved away and I got all boring with a lame girlfriend who didn't like to drink all that often (until New Years, when she pretended she was drunk to take advantage of me three weeks later, can I get an amen-ah!) and up until recently, I had no one fun to just crack a bottle with, and enjoy their company. There were people willing, but it just wasn't fun.

You see, up until now, I didn't have any enablers, who were really willing to almost make it a competition to out do me. Sure, it's lead to a few situations where maybe I shouldn't be here anymore, but I'm a fucking champion. But my caliber of friends has vastly improved, and Austins still there...so that end rules.

No slight on some of the people. Sometimes it's nice to kick back and sip. Sometimes. Just like it's nice to 'make love' sometimes. But there are times, more often than night, where if I'm drinking...get the fuck out of my way if you aren't going to go shot-for-shot. This isn't Mr Rogers Neighborhood (God rest his racist soul) this is the Thunderdome. There can be only one. Move aside if you want pussyfoot, I don't have time for that. This like 'fucking', it's gonna be fast, hard, and sometimes a little violent (in a good way, and if you don't what I'm talking about, you truly haven't lived), but all around great times.

But since it'd been a while since I'd just gotten plastered, it hit hard and with a vengeance. Like a 1940's wife who didn't have dinner ready in time, and the kids homework all done, I got hit from every angle.


Using our collective knowledge, which is actually quite a bit, we deduced logically that there would be a Denny's anywhere near by. Now, the bus ride up was strange enough, but the events after definitely hold their own weight, too.

As we were out of alcohol, and in desperate need of food, we decided first to get the beer. Priorities, friends. It's what makes this world fucking work. I suggest you get yours in order. As we stumbled the streets, I killed off the last of my beer, and hucked it across the street, and watched it shatter and shimmer in the Knotts Berry Farm parking lot. I actually feel bad about littering, though. But thats my memory of Knotts Berry Farm. My memory earlier that night of Disneyland was standing inside a bus terminal while it was pitch black, and some dudes were starring at me from the outside, lurking in the shadows. Great times.

As we walked towards Walgreens, or SavOn, or whatever it's called out there, we remembered, "oh duh. We aren't 21." Thats alright, more logical thinking prevailed: This is California, this is Anaheim, this is a Friday night. OF COURSE THERE WILL BE SOMEONE OF AGE WILLING TO BUY TWO FETCHING AND STRAPPING LADS DRUNKENLY STUMBLING THE STREETS MORE BEER.

And we were right. Sort of.

As we crossed this parking lot of this shady looking hotel (not saying ours was any less shady) a guy turned into the parking lot munching on some McDonald's fries. Austin being the more brazen of the two of us when intoxicated (at least at the time, I've gotten over this, and I'm happy I have) flagged this dude down. And by flag, I don't mean he waited until he parked his car, and got out, and calmly approached him after he vacated his vehicle. No. Oh, no no no.

Austin stood in front of the guys car, while he was driving, by standing in front of him and waving both hands in the air (like he just don't care). When the guy stopped, I mean it might just be our luck/my luck, or maybe it's just that I attract these kind of people, or everyone's just like this, but he asked what was up, calmly. Not something I would have expected. As Austin explained we needed beer, the guy said, "Oh hell yeah. Let me finish these fries, and I'll hook you guys up."

And he pulled into a parking space and ate.

Right around this time, I kind of put things together that maybe this guy wasn't exactly of good moral fiber. I mean, besides buying 20 year olds beer that he doesn't even know, there was just something about him that started to strike me odd. But at this point, after being on a Greyhound bus for 9 and a half hours, and being mad dogged outside of Disneyland, I said fuck it. It could've been Vlad Tepes for all I gave a shit.

So we waited for the dude. I peed in the parking lot, because thats what I do. I pee places.

A few minutes later the guy walked with us to Walgreens, bought us more delicious beer.

Great story, right?

Too bad it didn't end there.

After buying the beer, it turns out we'd made a new friend. The guy apparently wanted to "party" with us, knew some girls just on the same floor as us, only four doors away, and were apparently "DTF", etc. Oh, and also he had a lot of blow he was willing to share. We respectfully declined. Call me old fashioned, but if I'm going to get a case of the herp dog, I don't want it spurned on by some low rent drug dealer with McDonald's fries on his shirt.

I didn't know this at the time, but soon found out, that he'd also sold Austin what I'd consider to be, in laymens terms, a duffel bag of weed for about 20 dollars.

So with the alcohol secured, and the pot apparently, we decided it was time to find that god damned Denny's. So off we went through all these abandoned parking lots, assured that at any moment, some horizon would provide us with that yellow and red glow, that beacon, that haven for the intoxicated.

And oh, were we ever wrong. Talk about a cock block, Anaheim. What the shit, Mickey. Get on the effing ball. It might be a small world after all, but for God's sake it felt like Manifest Destiny denied looking for, and not finding, that Denny's. It's one of the biggest regrets of my life. Honestly.

We eventually would have settled for pizza, since there was a Papa John's right there. But of course they were closed. Why wouldn't they.

As we continued slightly further in vein, two girls in a white beamer rolled up next to us and rolled down their window asking, "are you holding?"

Austin, being ever accommodating said, "Maybe. Whatchu need, baby?" while casually strolling over, and doing the drug-dealer/hooker lean into the car window. It took all I had not to collapse on the ground laughing at the sheer audacity of a guy who barely had secured pot ten minutes ago, who ten minutes ago couldn't get a beer to save his life, went from Prohibition-Age suffer, to goddamned Tony Montana.

To this day it still cracks me up.

We finally settled on chips and salsa, and it was the best chips and salsa I've ever had in my entire life.

But back to the Colony. Distance is never a problem for me, especially drunkenly when it's at night. I'm all about that.

As I'd got myself the beers I so desperately needed to continue functioning, some fuck had moved the rock, locking me out of my destination. I was far too fucked up to scale the fence, and I couldn't figure out how we'd opened it prior. So...being the man that I am, I took a three point stance (I played football, I know what I'm doing) and shoulder tackled the gate as hard as I possibly could.

Apparently I'm stronger than steel, because that gate swung open really fast after the loud crash. I made it to the other side, and the other gate was easier to open because the knob was stuck so it was just a matter of some pulling (thats what she said). Unfortunately, it was only the second time I'd been to this guys apartment, and I was really trashed.

The distance from Austin's to this guy, especially factoring the multiple round trips, was easily a mile, which is an accomplishment when you are far from sober.

But I couldn't find the apartment. So I found some comfortable stairs to plot out my next plan of attack. After ten minutes, I decided I had beers that I'd tragically been neglecting. With five down, I decided that I'd just go to sleep on these strangers stone steps. Let them worry about the drunken kid in the Misfits shirt and hoodie in the morning. It'll be be a nice surprise. I'm like Folgers, baby...I'm the best part of waking up. Well, someone might have to verify that, I have no proof whatsoever.

I wound up being discovered by the rest of my group, and the drinking continued back at Austins, until I finally passed out on his floor.

But I leave you with a drinking anthem, from the masters of drunken lamenting and song writing. This is the Alkaline Trio, the greatest band in existence, and ever, and the song is "Old School Reasons" *referenced above*

"I've got a bottle in hand, straight to the ground with all my memories."

Enjoy!



Thats all I've got tonight.

-Until tomorrow.