I was 14. It was my birthday. I was expecting something along the line of The Green Slime.
I seem to recall an angry, father-led departure from the Empire theatre after the first 45 minutes of 2001: A Space Odyssey without any human dialogue, meteor showers or laser battles.
A couple of really weird things happened in the past few days.
The first one happened on the way to work Monday morning.
I was headed north on 291 when I glanced down at my dash and saw that all of my analog gauges were DEAD! No speedometer, no RPM, no temp, no battery, nothing. In place of my digital odometer, was the cryptic message "no bus".
But the jeep was still moving. It wasn't a catastrophic failure.
Just to see what would happen, I turned my headlights off (I always drive with my headlights on to increase my visibility to other drivers). All of a sudden, my gauges were back! I turned the headlights back on, and the gauges were still there!
Whew! WTF?
My first thought was that this was the first symptom of an irreparable electrical failure that would ultimately leave me without a vehicle, unable to get to work, jobless, unable to pay rent, and homeless. Shuffling along Independence Avenue with the crack whores and drug dealers.
That's the way my overly analytical mind works. From a single fact to absolutely worst possible case in a nano second. Because that's just how I fucking roll.
When I had more time to analyze the situation, I came up with a couple of more rational explanations.
The first scenario was that maybe I had a fuse going bad. That's possible.
But then I remembered that when I renewed my tags back in May, I failed the safety inspection because the driver's side high-beam was out. I had to rush out to O'Reilly's to get a new headlight. The O'Reilly's guy looked up my make and model and determined that I needed a Xenon bulb.
In a blatant attempt to up sell, he informed me that if you have a Xenon bulb on one side and a regular bulb on the other, the Xenon bulb doesn't last as long. It burns out faster. This makes some customers not like Xenon bulbs.
I passed on the attempt to double-dip my wallet and went out to the parking lot to install my new headlight and get my tags.
In the process I noticed that the passenger side headlight was, in fact, a regular bulb...not Xenon. Whatevies. I had just paid over $700.00 in personal property taxes and I just wanted to get my fucking tags. Wasn't really in the mood to spend anymore money.
But now I'm wondering if that could be the source of my "no bus" incident. Especially since switching the headlights on and off fixed the problem.
Maybe I won't wind up homeless and penniless, shuffling along Independence Avenue after all.
Maybe I just need to cough up $8.00 for a new fucking headlight from O'Reillys!
The second incident was extremely bizarre.
It involved on odd sound in the home.
It was a constant, semi-high pitched hum.
My first explanation was that it was coming from the H/AC vents. I had recently shut off every vent in the house except the ones in my bedroom and bathroom.
My bedroom faces west and sits above the garage, so it is hard to keep cool in hot weather. I was trying to force all of the AC upstairs into my bedroom and I thought that might caused a woodwind effect from the air blowing over the vanes in the vents.
Hey, it's possible.
But the really weird part was that the sound stopped if I turned on the water in my bathroom sink. It started up again as soon as I turned the water off.
What. The. Fuck?
I went downstairs for something and noticed that the sound got louder. Following the volume led me to the downstairs bathroom where I had a running toilet.
I've had problems with that toilet for some time now. I can't seem to get the float adjusted right and it tends to run.
I took the cover off the tank, fixed the float, and the sound immediately stopped!
In the most bizarre confluence of unlikely household circumstances I have ever encountered, the interaction between the waves generated in the tank by the running water and the phonograph needle effect of the float on the surface of the water seemed to be causing a sound to resonate through every water pipe in the house.
Fucking freaky!
I challenge all of you musicians and acoustic/vibration subject matter experts to tune your running toilets to make your water pipes sing and publish the results in a peer-reviewed journal.
Because I would LOVE to know how the fuck that could happen on its own, at random.
The ZZ Top stage set was Texas-themed and had vultures tethered to perches and rattlesnakes under Plexiglas domes on stage. This was ZZ Top at the peak of their game.
It was a kick ass line up!
I was well known in Excelsior Springs for my high school theatrical performances and mad make-up skillz. Especially my live performances at the local movie theatres when they ran horror movie marathons. When I roamed the isles of the local movie houses in my Wolf Man makeup, the bitches screamed and the men shit their pants.
Charley came from a monied family. Charley's dad was a local politician of some note. Charley was well known for making spontaneous appearances at keggers in his full body gorilla costume. Over the drunken years, the gorilla costume had accumulated some wear. The gorilla fur had some patchy spots.
But Charley was determined to mount an all out party offensive on the ZZ Top Halloween concert. He had a bunch of tickets, some hot-ass bitches, and he needed help.
Charley offered my broke ass a free ticket and free transportation to the concert if I could patch up his gorilla suit and provide Halloween makeup for his friends and bitches.
I seem to recall their were some free fungus-based "refreshments" included as well. Did I mention this was 1975?
It was an offer I couldn't refuse.
So I patched up his gorilla suit.
I applied the obligatory Vampirella makeup on the hot bitches in the low-cut vamp-cleavage outfits.
"We have to get the make-up applied as far down your chest as possible. Otherwise it won't look right. Trust me. I'm a professional."
Yeah. A 20 year old "professional" with a woody that could break a 2x4 because I was feeling up MILF tits. HAWESOME!
Charley was quite a site at the concert. Picture a gorilla wearing exotic cowboy boots, a big-buckle belted "ZZ Top Fandango!" t-shirt, and a big black cowboy hat. He spent most of the concert roaming the arena while we just enjoyed the show. We eventually lost track of him entirely.
When the show was over and everyone was dispersing, we were looking for Charley. He was our ride. We were asking everyone "Hey man, have you seen a gorilla in a ZZ Top t-shirt wearing cowboy boots?" It was 1975. Reactions were mixed.
As the crowd got really thin and the lights got really bright, we were reduced to asking the roadies on stage if they had seen our gorilla.
One of them said "Yeah. He's backstage with the band."
WTF?!?
"Tell him we need a ride! We're stranded!"
Instead of Charley coming out, we got a member of the crew inviting us in with backstage passes!
They guided us through the labyrinthine service corridors of Kemper Arena until we reached ZZ Tops tour digs.
And there they were. Billy Gibbons. Dusty Hill. Frank Beard. Surrounded by their fawning minions and adoring groupies.
Their were 50 gallon plastic drums filled with ice and beer.
They were all talking to fans and signing autographs.
The drummer, Frank Beard, had a system.
A hottie groupie would go and fetch him an ice cold beer from the tub while he signed autographs. When she arrived with the beer, he would stop signing autographs while he pretty much chugged the beer straight down.
Drumming for ZZ Top is hard fucking work!
Then he would dispatch her to fetch him another beer while he signed a few more autographs until she returned. When she returned with the beer, he would stop signing autographs while he chugged THAT beer straight down.
This pattern continued the entire time we were backstage.
At first, I was determined to be cool. I wasn't going to be some dipstick fanboy and ask for an autograph. I was going to act like I BELONGED backstage.
Until I finally sobered up enough to realize that everybody else was getting autographs. It was pretty much the only reason we were there (it certainly wasn't because Billy Gibbons spotted us from stage and told his roadies "That guy! Right there! He's the one I want to party with when I get off work! Bring him back stage! He's cool!")
So I finally grabbed a B&W 8x10 band photo off the stack and presented it to each of them for autographs.
I would love to scan it and post it, but much like the 10 Commandments and Joseph Smith's Golden Tablets, my autographed ZZ Top photo has been lost to history. I last remember having it in a rented home in Raytown.
At the end of the night, Frank Beard was too drunk to walk and had to be carried out of Kemper Arena into the waiting tour bus.
So I made the switch from Verizon to T-Mobile, got a nifty new Samsung t429 and have spent ALL FUCKING DAY playing with it and configuring it.
Especially the phonebook. I've consolidate every phone number from two different yahoo contact lists and from my old phone. If I have your phone number, you are in the book.
I'm also trying to make sure that everyone is assigned to a group and that everyone has a picture for photo ID.
Here are the ones I have hooked up with a pic so far.
My 2nd Ex-Wife:
My 1st Ex-Wife:
(that really is her around the time we started dating...she still looks that good)
Well Hell Michelle:
Banky:
Logtar:
Meesha:
Law School Bound:
I also have family photos for family members and I am searching for appropriate photos for the rest of you.
If you have a photo you think I should use for you, or better yet, if you have a photo you think I should use for someone else, please send them along!
Because until I find suitable pics, the default pic for all y'all is this:
