They Call Me Mr. Pibb...Wait Is That Right? That Doesn't Sound Right.

"How it feel to wake up be the shit and the urine?"

"Ohhh...I thought he said 'half the theater wake up be the shit and the urine.'"

"That makes no sense at all."

"And what he actually said does?"

So...

The last few days.


Where do I start?

Thursday night I tried to get a hold of an "old friend" when that didn't work out we went on a brief jag that ended with me chasing my guard dog down the street at two in the morning. It also helped to break a little bit the odd sense of confusion that had clouded me for the several days prior. Not a moment too soon if you ask me.

Friday night was the rehearsal dinner for Sean's wedding. The priest was rolling hard and fast and I don't know if any of us really followed him. We hit some faux italian restaurant in Allendale where we had some bizarre conversation with some interesting people. I headed home and started to watch 'In Bruges'. In Bruge is a twitchy little fucking movie that you probably don't want to watch you're totally high, somewhat dazed, half asleep, or completely suicidal. Example:

Ray: Hey-ho. Drowning your sorrows, huh?
Ken: What sorrows?
Ray: You know, being a sad, old, ugly little man.
Ray: [to the bartender] One gay beer please.
Ken: How'd your date go?
Ray: My date involved two instances of extreme violence, one instance of her hand on my cock and my finger up her thing, which lasted all to briefly. [pauses] Isn't that always the way? One instance of me stealing five grams of very-high-quality cocaine and one instance of me blinding a poofy little skinhead. So, all-in-all my evening pretty much balanced out fine.
Ken: You got five grams of coke?
Ray: I've got four grams on me and one gram in me which is why me heart is going like the clappers, as is I'm about to have a heart attack. So if I collapse any minute now please remember to tell the doctors that it might have something to do with the coke.

Saturday morning I woke up early and then went back to sleep. I repeated this ten friggin' times because apparently I wasn't feeling very well. I got all poofed up for the wedding and headed over to Sean's at the last minute. The zipper on my pants was busted and the tux shop wouldn't get me a new one in time so I had to safety pin the bugger shut 'cept I didn't have any safety pins so I had to call over to Sean's house and see if they could rustle a few up for me. I get there and they hand me this big fuck all safety pin and I'm thinking there isn't anything remotely safe about sticking something that big and sharp anywhere near a man's cock. But the other safety pin is all small and wimpy and I don't hardly think it will hold my fly shut proper and I don't want to look like a pansy so I take them both and just keep one in my pocket just in case. Guess which one?

The wedding was great, the reception even better. The photographer was pretty cute but must have decided she hated me right away because she kept asking us to do things like jump up in the air and run down hills, and if you've ever met me you know that jumping up in the air and running down hills are two things that don't sit well with a fat fuck like myself. Then while we were doing the opening dance thing (which caught me a bit by surprise because I don't fucking dance) she tells me to smile for a picture, and I reply without thinking that I can't pretend to smile and pretend to dance at the same time. She didn't take too kindly to that either. By the end of the reception we'd all drank quite a bit, danced just a little, and seen Gonzo run naked down the fairway nearest to the reception and nearly take a dive in the lake.

We headed back to the hotel afterwards to continue drinking. Entirely too many people were entirely too loose by this point. House was miserable, Nate was exhausted, Jere and Gonzo were focking smashed. At one point I'm talking to Gonzo and Sean's sister on the dance floor when this girl who was with another wedding and totally smashed came up and just started dancing in between us. She's dancing with Gonzo occasionally tossing a glance over her shoulder to smile at me, then she starts grinding on my leg while her boyfriends stands three feet away going "What the fuck?" For a moment I thought there was going to be a fight, a fight I would have easily won, but a fight none the less.

After a little more awkward hilarity we called it a night and headed home. All in all it was 5 A.M. by the time we called it quits. Gonzo, Jere, and I headed back to my house where we bullshit for awhile before turning in. Sunday morning we we stopped by Sean's house then grabbed breakfast real quick. Jere was amazed at the cultural cross section which is The River St. Dunkin' Donuts. At some point Gonzo and I had an interesting conversation about the Catholic Church and forklifts. By 3:00 P.M. I was asleep. At 6 an "old friend" called to see if I could pay a visit. I did, and had a blast, even if it did cost quite a bit more than I usually would spend. it was just that good of a night. Another, and slightly less familiar, "old friend" has asked me for a favor I probably can't help with. But I haven't decided whether I should talk it over or just not reply at all. I hate to hang someone out to dry who might actually need my help, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do.

I got home around 1:00 A.M. this morning heated up some vegetarian chicken nuggets (which are, oddly enough made of spinach) and hit the recliner to watch what turned out to be an excellent (if slightly odd) episode of True Blood. I was thinking there was something off for the entire episode, but it was still enjoyable. I'm still waiting for the show to turn a corner and let me make up my mind about whether or not it's going to be good or not. But last night was definitely a step in the right direction.

In other news...Saturday is the Youth Ministry trip to the Eastern State Haunted House. We've never waited this long to order tickets before but the RSVP process was totally fucked this time around. I'm supposed to order tickets tonight, but it's not looking good. I'm still trying to figure out how to pull this one out of my ass if things go wrong.

So last week I was confused, then clear, then confused again. I may have got square but I'm swinging far more than I ever have before. There's so much going on, but there's really nothing going on at all and I just can't decide how that sits with me. I just don't know how I feel.

So I'll do what I always do.

I'll stay standing. No matter what hits me. No matter what goes wrong. I'll stay standing. And when my back's against the wall, when The Darkness has me cornered, I'll stand right there and say...

My name is Chris Palomba...and I'm still here.

"Think everybody's talking about you
And conspiring to bring you down
You're thinking that nobody loves you
Ever wonder why I'm still around?" - Good Riddance, One For The Braves