You're Doing It TRONg

The other night I was out. Spoiler alert: I fell down stairs and hit my head. That's how it ended. I'll tell this story like that show The Event and just take a timeline, cut it up, throw it in a hat, and then tape it back together. Actually, that was Interzone, by William S. Burroughs. Dude, Robocop was in the movie adaptation of that book. God, Robocop was a good movie. For your information, Robocop and Starship Troopers are unsung cinematic masterpieces.

So, anyway, I'm playing shuffleboard with this dude and his friend and a girl that we'll call "random chick who has no idea what she is doing." I'm talking to dude's friend and he starts talking about his very very detailed camping plans for getting in line for the TRON premiere. Seriously. A month out, this guy is planning his...plan?

So, he had a tent planned, some lawn chairs, games to keep him busy, a bathroom plan and he kept going on and on and I was hanging on every word that came out of his mouth. I would kinda guess what he was going to say next, but think to myself, "No fuckin' way is he really going to say this" and then the words would come out of his mouth. I was floored. I should have started recording it. That's my bad. So, anyway, he goes on about his TRON plan for like 15 minutes and then paused and I pounced. I had to. I looked at him and just said, "Dude. You don't have a girlfriend, do you?" Do I even need to type his reply?

Wait! I don't have a girlfriend either. Fuck, this guy is way ahead of me in his TRON premiere plans. He's probably already in line and I don't even have lawn chairs or a tent or Jesus, I don't even have a bathroom plan. I can hear them already. "Oh, there's Ol' Hughge in the back of the TRON line. What a dork."

Oh, in addition to Robocop and Starship Troopers, Ice Pirates is six degrees of bad ass. The love theme from Ice Pirates would occasionally find its way through my guitar in live situations. Now, that my friend, is a passionate love scene I can get behind.

Don't. I know You.

So, last night I did what any 35 year old man does after work: kicked the ass of Rock Band 3 on Expert guitar. There's a trick. Due to the fact that I play my guitroller with a pick and have a naturally quick hammer-on technique learned on the non-plastic variety of guitars, it takes two beers to slow down to match the computer's "speed." That's the sweet spot when I can just kill it. Seriously, after wiping the floor with Crosstown Traffic by Hendrix, the thought did in fact cross my mind to light the fucker on fire and just go straight Monterey on the lump of plastic's ass, but look at me, I'm not made of money. I believe I'm made of puppy dog tails, snails and something else. Oh, and like 60% water. Or, is that the Earth? Okay, either I or the Earth are made up of hella water...and puppy dog tails.

Anyway, I played Rock Band until my hand-eye went to Hard level. This is how I know that I've had a few too many and need to eat. I put on a t-shirt (this will be important in a second) with work pants, work socks and Adidas shelltoes. Just a fuckin' mess. I went across the street from my apartment and grabbed a Coors Light and chicken strips. This will be my meal right before they walk me to the electric chair. Wait. They don't electrocute people anymore, do they? So, my meal before...how do we kill incarcerated...got it.

Coors Light and Chicken strips will be my meal before they lethally inject me. I love how the state has to kill with kindness. Nice work on the math, lawyers and hippies. Seriously, do the math. Death probably should hurt. It fucking kills you. If you burn your mouth on a piece of too hot pizza it bugs the shit out of you for a week. Why should lethal injection be a peaceful experience if too hot pizza is super annoying for a week? They should get creative with it and air it on Fox. They could make Johnny Knoxville the executive producer and kill murderers with fucking wrecking balls and dynamite. Basically, treat them like army men or GI Joe figures. Throw ethics aside and get higher ratings than Jersey Shore. The American public is ready for it for now. Yeah, as a society we may get smarter than a sixth grader and look at the world differently, but now we just drool in a lean cuisine and watch fucking talent shows and spectacles of social atrocities that we call reality.

So, I eat, whatever and decide that I need social interaction. This is always how it starts. I roll down to the cougar den down the street from my house and there is a table of people out front and one of them calls me by name and tells me to sit down with them. It's four girls and three dudes. I know none of them. One of them knows me. I introduce myself to everyone and I can tell that they are a little tipsy, but I'm a man with no pointed fingers so I grabbed a Coors Light and sat down with them.

One of the girls (women) was kinda fucked up and started talking about driving. I advised her not to with glamorous stories of 9 month programs and cleaning up the city of Cupertino. I raked the shit out of Cupertino, motherfucker. There was not a leaf on the ground for 9 weekends. I talked her out of it and she made the brilliant move of asking her friend to follow her home. I mentioned that that was a great way to have your friend watch you hit a lamp post, but whatevs.

Instead, I suggested that both of them chill for a little bit and not drink and then I would let them make whatever decision that they wanted to. The friend said, "Fuck that. I've gotta go." I told her that I would tell her funny stories for a half hour and she wouldn't even notice that the time went by. She sat down next to me and I told her stories. Her name was Melissa. She was actually really cute and friendly.

So, I made her laugh for a half hour and she grabbed her friend and they walked home. Smart move. Anyway, as they walked away, the Melissa girl yelled over her shoulder, "Hugh, your shirt's on backwards." I looked down and it was. It had been since I left the house. I switched it around and returned to the table where the dude who knew me looked at me and said, "Dude. You fucked up. She totally wanted you, but you made no moves. Why aren't you more aggressive?" This was the point where I looked at him and asked "Where do I know you from again?"

This Is Gonna Hurt On the Count of 1...2...

So, it's been since July. Where do I start? What do I remember? It'll probably help if we just look at it like a TV show. I stopped writing because things became ridiculously unanonymous. Probably my self-promotion gene, but whatever. So, every person that I'm about to write about will probably read this. Some of them will probably tell me to "Fuck off." It's all part of the game, though.

So, if it were a TV show, it's like season 4 or 5. Recently, the show changed settings. I finally moved...impulsively. My neighbors are the loudest and most fucked up derelicts that I have ever been this close to in proximity since I lived at home with my family in high school (kidding guys). There is the Loud Family on Section 8. There is the negligee neighbor with like 42 kids who got arrested the second week I was there. There is my upstairs neighbor family that is extremely active at 1:00 AM. I do, however, love the new town. I lived there with my ex-wife about ten years ago and even put a hole in my leg playing "You Love the Bushes" with her one night right up the street from my current apartment.

Next, we are getting tons of cameos from seasons 1 and 2. Cat Lady is back and going through some personal stuff that we talk about sometimes and has recently been renamed #2 in reference to 3#. #1 is the ex-wife. The numbers are references to the number of times that I have been smittstant (instantly smitten). Shit, #2 hit me from about 30 yards away. Recently, in dealing with #2's problems, I've seen some things come to light that were pushed down deep in the recesses of my traitorous brain that came back to me for processing. These things have led to me trying to quit #3. I tried to have something with her and lost some friends over it. It didn't work. Need to find a #4, but these things only happen, on average, every ten years. Another cameo is a girl that I treated really crappy during my self-medication phase. She really liked me and I probably could have made something out of it, but I was an asshole. She let me know that I broke her heart this weekend over a text message and said that she'd still get drunk and do me, but she doesn't really like me anymore. So, that's your cast. I'll expand on that later.

Now, recent episodes? Hmmm. There is the one where a guy choked me and I got in a fight. Walked away luckily. Still trying to figure that one out. There are some nice episodes, as well. Had a really great time at the Bridge School Benefit with one of the best dinners ever afterwards. It quickly turned to shit, but as far as moments go, that was a nice one. There is the episode of watching the Giants win the World Series while sober with my monkey stepson who also stayed sober. That was a weird episode. I made out at a train station with a girl with a boyfriend one night. She said that I was a good kisser. I got propositioned by two cougars for a threeway at karaoke. That was really really weird. I turned it down. Not quite there yet. Plus, I settle for nothing less than 4. One of the cougars also had these giant fuckin' Elway teeth. I'll be honest, I was a little frightened. She may have been a werewolf.

All right, I'm out of stuff at the moment, but will try to remember something from the last 4 months. Also, probably need to expand on the fucked up relationship dynamics that I'm discovering. I'll be honest. I'm doomed and kind of just accepting it now. It falls somewhere between Jerry Seinfeld and Charlie Brown. You know that Charlie Brown actually never got the girl and then Charles Schulz died therefore making Charlie Brown eternally lonely, right?