5 March 2011
368
R. Linda:
I had this very bad bad bad dream last night. I was in a pub with Weasil and Charlie Sheen! I know that says it all right there. I have to stop dreaming! That I have a mind left is a miracle. But back to me dream or more a nightmare. I was in a dark Irish pub someplace (I kinda think it was McSorley's there was a cat walking around, and I kept catching it out of the corner of me eye) and it was St. Patrick's Day evening, and we were at a table filled with empty and half filled green beer glasses. Weasil had called out, "BEER KEEP! 'Nother roundie ovah heah!" in that half Boston, half British accent he uses just for fun or, maybe just to annoy.
"Barkeep," I corrected.
The bartender looked and gave him the finger but started filling three more tall glasses with green beer. Meanwhile, all around us was noise, Irish music . . . you know the incessant noise you'd hear in a pub, the laughing, the joking, the chatting, the clink of glasses, the occasional whoop ha. In this setting, I had one hand over my face, it was feeling somewhat numb from all the drinking and I was afraid I was in a drooling state, where I couldn't feel me lips, and every time I took a sip of the green beer, most of it would flow down me neck onto me shirt ... oh me shirt by the by was another Weasil number and it said, Irish today - hungover tomorrow. Yup. And Weasil's said, Feck (with a shamrock underneath) and Charlie's said, Duh - Winning! Oh yeah, I do remember it all vividly.
So the bartender slammed the beers on our already sopping table, leaving the empties, and telling Weasil to go F himself as he walked off.
"I don't know why you let him talk to you that way," Charlie said, "he's a boring little man and YOU are with me, which means you're magic!"
Weasil stopped in mid-slurp to smile dementedly realising that yes indeed, he was with Charlie and well . . . DUH WINNING!
"Before you get Weasil into the fighting Irish mode, let me interrupt and ask you, Charlie, why are you drinking, I thought you were clean and sober," I said wanting to point out we were in a pub, DUH, LOSING . . . HELLO!
"I'm not drinking, I've got tiger beer for my tiger blood. See I take a sip, like this," sip taken, "and duh! Tiger beer, WINNING!"
"Yee-ah," I said not believing him. "What is tiger blood anyway?"
"Watch this," Weasil said taking a gulp, "Weasil beer, WINNING!"
"Check his blood, wow, you're a bitchin' rock star like me," Charlie said to Weasil.
I put me hands over me face, it was just so bizarre! How did I get there with those two?!
"So look Weasil, you have weasil blood, you are almost like me but I have Adonis DNA, DUH, WINNING!" Charlie said all animated and I thought he was going to rocket out of his chair and do something crazy, but no, he fooled me, he just sat there dragging on his cigarette, gold tooth showing slightly every time he took a drag, which made a thought transit my brain into thinking why was he was smoking in a no smoking pub? So I asked him how he was managing it without the management coming over and telling him he couldn't smoke.
"I'm Charlie Sheen," and he gestured all around the pub, "You're all on the Charlie Sheen ride. Duh, Winning!"
Not to be outdone, Weasil piped up, "Welly, I'z gots me Sucellus DNA," he grinned, "Duh, LUV!"
"Okay, who or what the hell is Sucellus?" I bit, yes I did, waving Charlie's smoke out of my face.
"The godie a LUV, if yer were uppy on yer Celtic gods yer wood no datty dere."
"Well, wait a minute, then what DNA do I have?" I drunkenly and foolishly asked.
They looked at each other and then Charlie pointed at Weasil and said, "Winning!" and Weasil smiled and said, "You iz gotz Buxenus DNA," and they started laughing.
"Ok, so, so, so what is . . . Buxenus was it? What is Buxenus known for?" Stupid, stupid me, for asking that.
"Well man, he's not magic," Charlie started laughing along with that blond troll, Weasil, "Buxenus is the Celtic god of box trees. Not winning!" And they both went into gales of laughter.
"Hum, box trees. Okay, okay you both have better DNA than me, whatever." I was getting pissed, not the British kind, the American kind.
"Gabe, you have to violently embrace your Buxenus DNA," Charlie guffawed as he formed an invisible embrace and violently parodied a hug, and the two of them were nearly on the floor laughing over it, Weasil doing the invisible hug as well. Oi! I did not find this funny. No, not at all. To be manly I picked up my glass of green beer and went to take a big swig when me numb lips missed the lip of the glass and the beer flowed down me t-shirt. This put them into more convulsions as they laughed their fool heads off at me.
"I think Gabe needs a forced hiatus," Charlie laughed and Weasil nodded.
"Like you?" I said in challenge and disgust.
"Wow, I don't know what to tell ya man, but . . . BRING IT!"
"Bring what?" I asked confused and trying to slap some feeling into me numb lips.
"You know, deep undercover, deep underground stay away from the crack, go for it," Charlie said.
"I don't do crack . . . what are you talking about? Sounds like YOU do crack," I said like a moronic child.
"I'm 100% and I can pee if you want me to prove I'm clean across the board, Gator-Aid," he snickered picking up his green beer and lifting it in a toast to himself.
"THAT is so NOT Gator-aid," I pointed out. "Nor Orange Crush."
"Correction: MUSH. Orange mush or strawberry crush what's the difference? I've got tiger blood from Mars. Yeah, it is Gator-Aid, makes me feel great. I'm here, ready to win, win, win!" He sneered at me, yes, sneered. Then he said, "You need to get radical dude, like our friend over here," he put an arm affectionately around Weasil and gave him a violent hug which slopped most of Weasil's green beer onto the table, but stupid was all happy to be hugged by his idol Charlie Sheen, even if the hug squeezed his whole body in half, his teeth flipping forward out of his mouth like a severe overbite, his arms looking like twigs and his ribs caving in, looking very much a blond troll. "I'm feeling the love here," Charlie said giving Weas a noogie, "gnarly dude!"
"Can I give you some advice?" I said to Charlie, only he cut me off.
"Advice gets redundant, gets sort of redundant, man. You need passion, it's all passion dude, stop being such a knucklehead and shut up and move forward! Here let me tell you something Gabe man, no advice is the greatest advice."
"Duh winning!" Weasil said.
"Winner!" Charlie said pointing at himself.
I wanted to haul off and slap Weasil. I was starting to feel outnumbered, and strangely like I was out with two lunatics or worse crack heads. I was shoved out of my thoughts by a waitress who asked if there was something she could get us. I looked up and asked, "Got milk?" She shook her head and went off.
"Wow man, what does that mean? Got milk? Unplug that bastard, borrow my brain," Charlie said.
"Duz we needie more a dissy heah green stuffins?" Weasil asked Charlie pointing at his almost empty green beer since I was trying to switch to milk and that was the last thing Weasil wanted rounds of. And why? Because he's "allergic to milkie mustardstaches." EEE YAH. "So duz we or duz we not?" Weasil persisted.
"I don't remember my brain is fried," Charlie laughed at his own joke. "Yeah man, when you're banging 7-gram rocks, one speed, one gear, GO. Winning!"
"Oh my," I said holding me head. "How DO you survive?"
"Because I'm me! Period, the end." Charlie said looking very convinced and smug that this was true. Then he announced, "I'm high on me, Charlie Sheen! That's my drug of choice."
"You do know 7 grams is a quarter ounce and you could have killed yourself!" I said.
"Quarter ounce huh? Good thing I stopped . . . HELLO!" And he laughed like it was funny!
"He luvs hisself," Weasil slurred, "yer in needies a sum luvvv Bux," and he laughed at the name, so funny to him at least.
"Just do it, man, what's not to love, it's epic, don't be like a droopy-eyed, armless child, party Gabe! Expose yourself to magic and leave your boring, little life behind. Leave that beanbag chair and move forward, man." Charlie looked at me intensely through the tobacco smoke like I was supposed to jump up and have a party of me own. Made no sense to me as I stared back at him, hunched over, me hands clasped like in prayer. But that position for anyone who knows me means, I be wanting to disappear under the table, but well, didn't happen because I had a thought he wasn't all there and said so.
"You are so bipolar," I said to him and then turned to Weasil and told him the same thing. But my brain was still thinking "droopy-eyed, armless child" like say what?
Charlie laughed, "Bi-polar and then what? Not gonna happen, I'm bi-WINNING, look at me, I blinked and I cured my brain of old school crack and booze."
"Yee'ah, I can see that clearly," I said shaking me boring, stupid head.
"Me toos." Weasil chimed in. I finally had enough and slapped Weasil upside the head. I couldn't do that to Charlie for the cigarette smoke, it was hard to find him.
"Okay let's try something else," Charlie said waving at the waitress and signaling another round of 'Gator-Aid'. "You Gabe, are a loser, a people pleaser. You gotta get over that man, you're hysterical man, you should come on my show, oh yeah I don't have a show, so you should be saying, 'Oh God he's right' don't surrender to win Gabe, you have to subscribe to all of it. Life, Gabe, you can't make an exception. I'm gonna stop talking about it because it's a waste of time. You need to provide the pieces of your power that are missing and make a change Gabe."
"Really?" I just looked at him as the smoke cleared. "You don't think you're pushing things?"
"Oops, you mean me to push the limit?"
"Wowey, wow, wow," Weasil said all impressed.
"Nothing's normal for you," I said.
"I can pretend like I'm on Prozac if that will do it for you," Charlie said. "Actually I'm on a drug called Charlie Sheen. Look at my mind it changes sometimes, it is what it is. Wow, I just remembered that."
"OH . . . MY . . . GOD." I mumbled looking at him through the smoke.
"I know, I know and I'm grateful to have survived it. I'm so excited about what's going on without that crap. What crap? I dunno, are you a maggot, an earthworm? I can't move forward until I have an answer, Gabe. I'm ready to rock, I'm your cleanup hitter, I own this business let's get going. I'm without a field to play on. Gabe, you need goddesses. Some of this is starting to make sense, it's not going to be as colourful without goddesses Gabe, hello! Go for it Gabe, watch what happens, oops - I won't be offended by that," Charlie said as I slopped beer in his direction trying to splash him to shut him up, "We're all winning together Gabe. We are partying together, we are on the Charlie Sheen RIDE, dude."
Mercifully, I woke up. But I can still hear Charlie, "Gabe, you need to work on your impulses man, impulse control, just try to think things through a little bit, before you do 'em. Now check it out, come on you don't have Adonis DNA nor tiger blood, and you're not a rock star from Mars like me, but Gabe, you need to move forward man, like get off that beanbag chair dude . . . get a goddess or two, or three, duh . . . winning!"
Oi!!!
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I had this very bad bad bad dream last night. I was in a pub with Weasil and Charlie Sheen! I know that says it all right there. I have to stop dreaming! That I have a mind left is a miracle. But back to me dream or more a nightmare. I was in a dark Irish pub someplace (I kinda think it was McSorley's there was a cat walking around, and I kept catching it out of the corner of me eye) and it was St. Patrick's Day evening, and we were at a table filled with empty and half filled green beer glasses. Weasil had called out, "BEER KEEP! 'Nother roundie ovah heah!" in that half Boston, half British accent he uses just for fun or, maybe just to annoy.
"Barkeep," I corrected.
The bartender looked and gave him the finger but started filling three more tall glasses with green beer. Meanwhile, all around us was noise, Irish music . . . you know the incessant noise you'd hear in a pub, the laughing, the joking, the chatting, the clink of glasses, the occasional whoop ha. In this setting, I had one hand over my face, it was feeling somewhat numb from all the drinking and I was afraid I was in a drooling state, where I couldn't feel me lips, and every time I took a sip of the green beer, most of it would flow down me neck onto me shirt ... oh me shirt by the by was another Weasil number and it said, Irish today - hungover tomorrow. Yup. And Weasil's said, Feck (with a shamrock underneath) and Charlie's said, Duh - Winning! Oh yeah, I do remember it all vividly.
So the bartender slammed the beers on our already sopping table, leaving the empties, and telling Weasil to go F himself as he walked off.
"I don't know why you let him talk to you that way," Charlie said, "he's a boring little man and YOU are with me, which means you're magic!"
Weasil stopped in mid-slurp to smile dementedly realising that yes indeed, he was with Charlie and well . . . DUH WINNING!
"Before you get Weasil into the fighting Irish mode, let me interrupt and ask you, Charlie, why are you drinking, I thought you were clean and sober," I said wanting to point out we were in a pub, DUH, LOSING . . . HELLO!
"I'm not drinking, I've got tiger beer for my tiger blood. See I take a sip, like this," sip taken, "and duh! Tiger beer, WINNING!"
"Yee-ah," I said not believing him. "What is tiger blood anyway?"
"Blood that flows through me I can feel, what do you mean?"
"Huh?"
"Watch this," Weasil said taking a gulp, "Weasil beer, WINNING!"
"Check his blood, wow, you're a bitchin' rock star like me," Charlie said to Weasil.
I put me hands over me face, it was just so bizarre! How did I get there with those two?!
"So look Weasil, you have weasil blood, you are almost like me but I have Adonis DNA, DUH, WINNING!" Charlie said all animated and I thought he was going to rocket out of his chair and do something crazy, but no, he fooled me, he just sat there dragging on his cigarette, gold tooth showing slightly every time he took a drag, which made a thought transit my brain into thinking why was he was smoking in a no smoking pub? So I asked him how he was managing it without the management coming over and telling him he couldn't smoke.
"I'm Charlie Sheen," and he gestured all around the pub, "You're all on the Charlie Sheen ride. Duh, Winning!"
Not to be outdone, Weasil piped up, "Welly, I'z gots me Sucellus DNA," he grinned, "Duh, LUV!"
"Okay, who or what the hell is Sucellus?" I bit, yes I did, waving Charlie's smoke out of my face.
"The godie a LUV, if yer were uppy on yer Celtic gods yer wood no datty dere."
"Well, wait a minute, then what DNA do I have?" I drunkenly and foolishly asked.
They looked at each other and then Charlie pointed at Weasil and said, "Winning!" and Weasil smiled and said, "You iz gotz Buxenus DNA," and they started laughing.
"Ok, so, so, so what is . . . Buxenus was it? What is Buxenus known for?" Stupid, stupid me, for asking that.
"Well man, he's not magic," Charlie started laughing along with that blond troll, Weasil, "Buxenus is the Celtic god of box trees. Not winning!" And they both went into gales of laughter.
"Hum, box trees. Okay, okay you both have better DNA than me, whatever." I was getting pissed, not the British kind, the American kind.
"Gabe, you have to violently embrace your Buxenus DNA," Charlie guffawed as he formed an invisible embrace and violently parodied a hug, and the two of them were nearly on the floor laughing over it, Weasil doing the invisible hug as well. Oi! I did not find this funny. No, not at all. To be manly I picked up my glass of green beer and went to take a big swig when me numb lips missed the lip of the glass and the beer flowed down me t-shirt. This put them into more convulsions as they laughed their fool heads off at me.
"I think Gabe needs a forced hiatus," Charlie laughed and Weasil nodded.
"Like you?" I said in challenge and disgust.
"Wow, I don't know what to tell ya man, but . . . BRING IT!"
"Bring what?" I asked confused and trying to slap some feeling into me numb lips.
"You know, deep undercover, deep underground stay away from the crack, go for it," Charlie said.
"I don't do crack . . . what are you talking about? Sounds like YOU do crack," I said like a moronic child.
"I'm 100% and I can pee if you want me to prove I'm clean across the board, Gator-Aid," he snickered picking up his green beer and lifting it in a toast to himself.
"THAT is so NOT Gator-aid," I pointed out. "Nor Orange Crush."
"Correction: MUSH. Orange mush or strawberry crush what's the difference? I've got tiger blood from Mars. Yeah, it is Gator-Aid, makes me feel great. I'm here, ready to win, win, win!" He sneered at me, yes, sneered. Then he said, "You need to get radical dude, like our friend over here," he put an arm affectionately around Weasil and gave him a violent hug which slopped most of Weasil's green beer onto the table, but stupid was all happy to be hugged by his idol Charlie Sheen, even if the hug squeezed his whole body in half, his teeth flipping forward out of his mouth like a severe overbite, his arms looking like twigs and his ribs caving in, looking very much a blond troll. "I'm feeling the love here," Charlie said giving Weas a noogie, "gnarly dude!"
"Can I give you some advice?" I said to Charlie, only he cut me off.
"Advice gets redundant, gets sort of redundant, man. You need passion, it's all passion dude, stop being such a knucklehead and shut up and move forward! Here let me tell you something Gabe man, no advice is the greatest advice."
"Duh winning!" Weasil said.
"Winner!" Charlie said pointing at himself.
I wanted to haul off and slap Weasil. I was starting to feel outnumbered, and strangely like I was out with two lunatics or worse crack heads. I was shoved out of my thoughts by a waitress who asked if there was something she could get us. I looked up and asked, "Got milk?" She shook her head and went off.
"Wow man, what does that mean? Got milk? Unplug that bastard, borrow my brain," Charlie said.
"Duz we needie more a dissy heah green stuffins?" Weasil asked Charlie pointing at his almost empty green beer since I was trying to switch to milk and that was the last thing Weasil wanted rounds of. And why? Because he's "allergic to milkie mustardstaches." EEE YAH. "So duz we or duz we not?" Weasil persisted.
"I don't remember my brain is fried," Charlie laughed at his own joke. "Yeah man, when you're banging 7-gram rocks, one speed, one gear, GO. Winning!"
"Oh my," I said holding me head. "How DO you survive?"
"Because I'm me! Period, the end." Charlie said looking very convinced and smug that this was true. Then he announced, "I'm high on me, Charlie Sheen! That's my drug of choice."
"You do know 7 grams is a quarter ounce and you could have killed yourself!" I said.
"Quarter ounce huh? Good thing I stopped . . . HELLO!" And he laughed like it was funny!
"He luvs hisself," Weasil slurred, "yer in needies a sum luvvv Bux," and he laughed at the name, so funny to him at least.
"Just do it, man, what's not to love, it's epic, don't be like a droopy-eyed, armless child, party Gabe! Expose yourself to magic and leave your boring, little life behind. Leave that beanbag chair and move forward, man." Charlie looked at me intensely through the tobacco smoke like I was supposed to jump up and have a party of me own. Made no sense to me as I stared back at him, hunched over, me hands clasped like in prayer. But that position for anyone who knows me means, I be wanting to disappear under the table, but well, didn't happen because I had a thought he wasn't all there and said so.
"You are so bipolar," I said to him and then turned to Weasil and told him the same thing. But my brain was still thinking "droopy-eyed, armless child" like say what?
Charlie laughed, "Bi-polar and then what? Not gonna happen, I'm bi-WINNING, look at me, I blinked and I cured my brain of old school crack and booze."
"Yee'ah, I can see that clearly," I said shaking me boring, stupid head.
"Me toos." Weasil chimed in. I finally had enough and slapped Weasil upside the head. I couldn't do that to Charlie for the cigarette smoke, it was hard to find him.
"Okay let's try something else," Charlie said waving at the waitress and signaling another round of 'Gator-Aid'. "You Gabe, are a loser, a people pleaser. You gotta get over that man, you're hysterical man, you should come on my show, oh yeah I don't have a show, so you should be saying, 'Oh God he's right' don't surrender to win Gabe, you have to subscribe to all of it. Life, Gabe, you can't make an exception. I'm gonna stop talking about it because it's a waste of time. You need to provide the pieces of your power that are missing and make a change Gabe."
"Really?" I just looked at him as the smoke cleared. "You don't think you're pushing things?"
"Oops, you mean me to push the limit?"
"Wowey, wow, wow," Weasil said all impressed.
"Nothing's normal for you," I said.
"I can pretend like I'm on Prozac if that will do it for you," Charlie said. "Actually I'm on a drug called Charlie Sheen. Look at my mind it changes sometimes, it is what it is. Wow, I just remembered that."
"OH . . . MY . . . GOD." I mumbled looking at him through the smoke.
"I know, I know and I'm grateful to have survived it. I'm so excited about what's going on without that crap. What crap? I dunno, are you a maggot, an earthworm? I can't move forward until I have an answer, Gabe. I'm ready to rock, I'm your cleanup hitter, I own this business let's get going. I'm without a field to play on. Gabe, you need goddesses. Some of this is starting to make sense, it's not going to be as colourful without goddesses Gabe, hello! Go for it Gabe, watch what happens, oops - I won't be offended by that," Charlie said as I slopped beer in his direction trying to splash him to shut him up, "We're all winning together Gabe. We are partying together, we are on the Charlie Sheen RIDE, dude."
Mercifully, I woke up. But I can still hear Charlie, "Gabe, you need to work on your impulses man, impulse control, just try to think things through a little bit, before you do 'em. Now check it out, come on you don't have Adonis DNA nor tiger blood, and you're not a rock star from Mars like me, but Gabe, you need to move forward man, like get off that beanbag chair dude . . . get a goddess or two, or three, duh . . . winning!"
Oi!!!
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
2 comments:
Your story -- Duh, WINNING!
LOL Gabe, sounds like you were on the Charlie Sheen ride with that blond troll, keep the dreams coming!
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