Road Trip and Slip

I’ve always been amazed at why I’m still alive , here’s just one episode in my life that give’s reason to raise that question.

It was about 1989, I was a rampant user of crank, coke, pot, Jack Daniels and beer. I was working and living at a metal refinishing shop in the middle of a huge industrial complex in Norwalk L.A.  I was a partner in this business along with two other freaks like myself. Jesse Beccera and Bill Whiting. We were hard working , hard drinking and we all would usually depend on a few beers and a couple good lines of crank in the morning to get our day going. Every morning “Bicycle Jim” would come by and pull 3 twenty’s out of his seat post and sell one to each of us. After our little chemical breakfast the shop would erupt into a fury of production with music blasting a consistent pile driver beat, wall vibrating  hard tecno rock , Ministry and White Zombie, plain old mean and energetic music, right  along with the noise coming from six 15 hoursepower lathes running full blast at the same time, It was pure  orchestrated insanity. This would go on for at least 8 hours every day, non stop. The neighboring shop owners wanted nothing to do with us. They knew nothing of the drugs. They just thought we were nuts and satanist. { after 8 hours of grinding and polishing aluminum wheels and automotive parts on these huge machines we would be so black you could only see the white of our eyes}

At the end of each day we would clean up and make a run to the liquor store. Mostly so I could have enough booze to carry me through the night. As an alcoholic, if I ran out and went too long without a drink I would have convulsions and seizures that were crippling. Every night I would have to drink enough to counteract the speed so I could sleep. A quart of beer would last me a couple hours and then I would wake up and drink another quart and go back to sleep. If worse ever came to worse and the liquor store was closed I could always walk over to the dairy about a block away and buy beer from a soda machine they had with a Budwieser button on it. Fifty cents for a Bud. Unfortunatly if I was shaking and withdrawing it made the walk really hard. The only way I could make it would be to run, walking was impossible. I would bring my roll of quarters which I always had handy, and sit infront of the machine and pound Bud after Bud in front of 2000 cows at 3 in the morning till I got straight

Okay I think you get the picture by now.

Jesse and I were sitting in the office one night while he was having a testy little spat over the phone with his girlfriend Tina who was up in Bend Oregon. It seems she wanted to come back to L.A., but she had way to much shit to put on  a plane a bus or a train.  So she was trying to convince Jesse to drive up to Oregon and bring her and her shit back to L.A.

Now , before I go any further I must make it clear that I had met Tina before. And she is one of the most stuck up concieted little bitch’s I have ever met. I always told Jesse he could do better. He complained once that she wouldnt blow him. That there was reason enough in my mind to dump her.

Now, picture this. Jesse looks like Slash from Guns and Roses, I look like a cross between  Ted Nugent and David Lee Roth . We both had full blown rock wardrobes and massive long hair. This was the late 80s and we were totally entrenched in the rock lifestyle. We are both, as usual, high on crank and drunk. Wide awake drunks ! Bouncing around like mexican jumping beans with electrodes up our ass. Zip Zap. Totally spastic.  And to make things even more ridiculous, it was Christmas eve, I swear to God this is true, and not for dramatic effect. You’ll see later that it has very much to do with this story.

He hangs up the phone and in a millionth of a second says; “Want to go to Oregon ?” And in half a millionth of a second I said; Shoot ! lets go !” 

Jesse called Tina back, got directions from the highway she was closest to in Oregon. We grabbed the company check book, some clothes and our 1/2 ounce of crank. Before we got on the 5 north we went to the liquor store and grabbed two huge bottles of Jack and took off like slingshots for Oregon.

The first few hours were fun. We cruised along just having a good ole time. Stopping here and there. Even ran into a couple bars  on the way had a few drinks and hit the road again. Now keep in mind we were high on some of the best speed in California , and had already been up for 3 days and we were putting away a fifth of Jack plus a shit load of beer everyday. We had left Norwalk at about 4 or 5 in the evening and drove all night, when the sun came up we were about 50 miles north of San Fransisco. Just when the sky started to lighten up we pulled over at some scenic area and watched the sun come up on Christmas day. and just sat quietly for about 10 or 15 minutes I felt that this was important to do, probably because the night before we headed north all I did was swing by my 3 year old daughters place to give her her presents. She was too young to really grasp what was happening. But I still felt kind of shitty, so I figured I had better offer some respect to the day. Not to justify the crank and Jack Daniels, or shorting my daughter, but because I actually had feelings for Jesus, it was his birthday. As much of a rampant asshole as I was, I had to offer the day some respect.

The sunrise was spectacular, almost surreal and abstract , when you have been up for four days and are still doing healthy doses of crank your vision and other senses start playing tricks on you. Colors are brighter and more vibrant. This is one thing most people are not aware of. And that is, that its not really the drug that screws you up as much as the lack of food and sleep. Even without the drug, if you stay up for four days with no food, you’re gonna start acting up ! And then add on all the extra energy you expend as a result of the drug and you’ve got one looney trooper! You start seeing and doing some really weird shit.

Anyway, we shoved off from the look out and headed north again. The rest of the ride was the usual. Drive 50 miles pull over and do a few shots and a few lines, get back on the road , 50 miles later… BOOM ! were up and running again. We had been up for at least 4 days now and it was taking more speed and less Jack to get straight. Our systems were plunging and it only took a little Jack because we were so depleted, our alcohol tolerance was way down. The lack of sleep was acting as good sedative also. So we just did bigger lines. We had to get to Oregon. We were doing that balancing act that most cross addicted users go through. Always tweaking and adjusting the speed and booze to get the perfect high.

I guess we were about 200 miles outside of Bend when it started getting dark. This is when the shit really started.

Somewhere about a 100 miles out of Bend we made wrong turn. And now we were on a narrow road out in the middle of nowhere. The roads had ice on them and every now and then we would have to dodge a deer. Slip slidin away. Anyway, after Jesse had almost killed us twice I told him that if he didnt let me drive I would kick his ass. Jesse was a control freak and had drove all the way up till this point. But my threat proved worthy and he gave me the wheel.  Now,  I,m from Hawaii, and I’ve never driven in the snow or on ice. But I swear , anybody could do better job than Jesse. As soon as I got about a mile down the road another deer popped out in front of us and Jesse started screaming like a little  bitch ” Oh ! don’t hit the deer” I told him that I’ll hit that I would hit the deer before I make any sharp turns and end up in a ditch.

I slowed down without skidding, stopped, turned off the headlights, blew the horn, turned on the head lights and the deer was gone. Cool, that was way better than almost falling into a ditch out in the middle of nowhere.

We decided that at this point it was probably better to keep going and wait for a sign that would give us directions or at least let us know where we were at. But we starting to have problems, we were hallucinating because our senses were shot. We were going so slow ( only because everything around us was going  100 miles per hour)that every 10 or 15 minutes a car would start to come up behind us.    If these cars were at least a mile behind us their headlights would flicker and change colors, but only for Jesse and I. We thought they were cops. Paranoia is usually a side effect of any stimulant that has kept you up for 4 days, and we were shitting our pants. We were so careful to drive in a straight line at a decent speed even with the ice, because we didnt want to draw any unecessary attention from what we thought were the the cops. Well, we werent as good on the ice as the guy behind us,  he was getting closer and I didnt dare go any faster. I didnt need to get in wreck and have the cops find our big ol bag of speed and the half empty Jack bottles. And the little .22 pistol we brought which had never left the shop till that day. We had thought about tossing it all , but we were too paranoid to even move. Gradually the car behind us got closer, gradually our assholes got tighter. Then the car got close enough to where we could see it was’nt a cop and we let them pass. Unfortunatly there was another car about a mile behind us , and we started the same scene all over again. No matter how hard we stared at the lights, they looked like cop lights untill they would get about 2 or 3 hundred feet behind us.   Finally this piss ass little road opened up to the 5. We had over shot Bend by 50 miles.  At least now we supposedly knew where we were.                                                                                              

 Jesse got on a pay phone, { no cell phones in 89} got some directions and took over the wheel. I had no problem with this because the ice only seemed to be on the little winding road we just got off. Now we had to get on the 5 and head south for about 40 or 50 miles and then get off and make all these turns that only Jesse knew about cause the shithead  didnt write it down. We got lost a couple more times, would find a pay phone , get back on track and try again. It was like 3 steps backwards and 2 forward  untill we finally at midnight got to Tinas moms house. By now after being up for 4 almost 5 days I was totally out of any mental chemical  properties { dopamine, endorphines, whatever} and wanted to cry. If I had to watch Old Yeller I would of killed myself.

The house was hard to miss, but had we indulged any more into the zip lock of crank or drank any more Jack we probably would have. After everything we had been through and knowing that Tinas family was obviously concerned by us taking so long , I couldnt believe we actually had to ring the doorbell and wait about a minute before Tina’s brother came to the door. I mean this house was out in the middle of nowhere, with its own 1/2 mile long driveway. You would of thought they heard us, driving on snow is noisy and so was the truck we were in.  Anyway, as soon as all the pleasentries were over the first thing Tina’s mom did was plop a big ass plate of food in front of us. I had to turn around so she wouldnt see me holding back my gag. For those of you that don’t know it, when high on methamphetamine, food is the enemy. It’s actually the one thing we needed most, but getting it down the hatch is nearly impossible. Just the site of it makes you want to gag. I tried my best to be polite and eat it and make claims about how good it was but I wasn’t succeding to well. I made up a story that I wasn’t feeling to good from the trip and that I was car sick from all the turns and sliding on the snow and bla bla bla. With that, Jesse and I were quickly shown our accomidations. I think Tinas family was tired and just wanted to crash.

Tina’s brother asked us to follow him outside. When we stepped out the back door we caught our first look at our guest room. It was one of those old campers on wheels that was about ten feet long and dome shaped like an egg. I clearly remember telling myself; “what the fuck?” To top it off it’s fucking freezing ! The camper was about 60 or 70 feet from the house , inside was two little 5 ft. long shelves on each side that had quilts on them with blankets and pillows. No shitter, no sink. Just a door and a window and old heater in the middle of the floor and two little shelves that were supposed to be beds. Actually that was the intention, but they looked like large benches.

So now everything has wound down and it  was all nice and quiet.   Of course Jesse and I were a little bummed because we really couldn’t sleep. And we couldnt go outside and walk around because that would of been a bust, and it would of looked really weird. Also it was pitch dark. So if you can picture two wide awake drunks walking around the Oregon forest with a flashlight at 2 in the morning you get the picture.

So we just laid there and talked about God knows what while the little heater on the floor would hum and light up bright red every minute and then softly dimm back down. The heater was irritating not just because of the way it was humming and glowing on and off , but because we were still hallucinating. In a living room with everything lit up it wasn’t too bad. But out in the pitch black forest with nothing other than this little red orb going on and off it was almost like a bad acid trip.

This went on for what seemed like an eternity but was probably just an hour or so. We ran out of shit to say so we just sat there quietly when the camper started to rock. The rocking would come and go at 2 to 3 minute intervals. Jesse and I were freaking out. ” Whats that!! Whats that!!” I reached in my back pack and grabbed the little .22 and put it at my side as I looked out the window. Right there in my face were two glowing red eyes about the size of quarters. I jumped back and nearly shit my pants.  Everytime the heater would glow at its brightest the eyes in the window would glow brighter , and red ! Now the camper starts rocking and the eyes are moving around and Jesse and I are freaking. To make matters worse I had to piss like a stepped on rattlesnake. We were both convinced that it was a bear.

Finally I decide I had to do something. I told Jesse that I was going to go outside and sneak around to the other side and put cap in the bears ass and then jump back in the camper. Besides that I was ready to piss on myself. If I had a bottle to pee in I would of just done that. But I didn’t, and I was ready to pop.

Before I go any further I should tell you that I dont know much about guns at all. I think the .22 we had was made in China. We got it off a junkie for $40.00 in L.A. I’ve only fired a gun twice before. I was shooting at cans in a pineapple field with a sawed off shotgun. (yea I know)   I decided not to sneak out because I knew the snow would start crunching under my feet and set off the bear. So instead I just came out of the door like gangbusters. I flew around the corner of the camper and saw this dark mass about as big as a pony and just started shooting

                                                               

It was a deer. A little 150 lb. deer. It was so dark and I was so paranoid and high and just full of stupid that I had shot a deer. God ! I felt like the scum of the earth. I think if it was a bear I would of felt the same way. I have always wanted to hunt my own food, but this was murder, he wasnt dead yet, but I knew he wouldnt make it, blood was everywhere. I didnt know what to do. Poor guy was just laying there gasping for breath looking up at the sky. Of course the gun made some noise, so Tina and her folks came running out screaming at me   “What the fuck are you doing?”  My facilities were so depleted and I felt so stupid and bad I really couldnt think of anything intelligent to say. Man were they mad at me. They were all walking around pulling their hair and asking me all kinds of things. They started asking Jesse ; ” where did you digg up this asshole ?” I couldnt take it anymore so I asked Jesse if was possible for Tina to grab her stuff and we just hit the road then and there. Tina thought it would be best too if we got out there. So thats what we did. At about 3 or 4 in the morning we started putting her stuff in the truck.

Do you remember at the beggining I mentioned that Tina called L.A. saying all her stuff wouldnt fit on a bus or a plane ?  Well it turned out the little bitch only had two suitcases ! We drove 600 miles and almost killed ourselves and God knows who else and risked jail, all for two fucking  suitcases and a snotty little bitch. I was so mad I was twitching and couldnt speak for about an hour.

So now we are headed for the California border, its about 6 or 7 in the morning and we have been on the road for a few hours now. The sun is coming up and for the first time in my life I saw snow at its fullest. I mean everything was white ! I was raised in Hawaii and had been to NY, Mich., Mexico and LA so far. And had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. I was totally taken back and just amazed at the power of mother nature to cover everything in white. Shortly after that I also got to see a lake completely frozen over. That was almost too much to comprehend. Unfucking believable ! An ice cube the size of a small island.

By now we were about 20 miles just north of the California border heading south to this little town called Weed,( its there, google it) when the carrier bearing for the drive shaft went out. To make a long story short , we could only go about 3 miles an hour. Not to much later a very nice country looking guy hooked a rope up to us and dragged us in to Weed.

Heres the hard part, we only had sixty bucks . That was for gas to get back to L.A. The part for the truck was fifty bucks and wouldnt be in until monday. We only had a company check book and the banks were closed. And now it’s snowing like crazy. Even if we had the part and gas money we werent allowed on the road it was snowing so hard. Next thing we know we are sitting in a little coffee shop looking at each other like ” what the fuck are we gonna do” ? By now I was ready to strangle the bitch. She actually had the nerve to start complaining. I told her that our choices were this. We could sleep in the truck untill Monday and run the heater at night, but we would use all the gas and maybe overheat the engine. Or we could drink coffee for two days and nights, that way they cant kick us out of the coffee shop. None of this was going to work because Jesse and I have been up for 5 or 6 days now and we were fading fast.

The waitress was nice enough to give us a handful of coffee tokens. By now she knew our predicament. The three of us decided we would have to get a room, even if we only had enough cash for one night. That would be better than two nights in the truck or coffee shop. So I told them both to stay put and I would go see what I could do. I grabbed the company check book our 60 in cash and started down the street.

Weed is a little truck stop town that you could walk through in ten minutes. Down the main drag was about ten little motels. I went to each one trying to strike deal for two nights for three people with 60 bucks and a post dated check. The first 6 or 7 wouldnt offer anything or even try to help so I decided to amp up the bullshit. The next motel I went to got a different version of my story. I told the guy at the front desk about our truck and the repairs it needed and our cash predicament. On top of that I told the guy at the front desk that Tina was pregnant and that when he saw her he would believe me ( Tina had a convincing pouch of fat like a beer belly). I told the guy that I would let him hold my gold bracelet, my watch a post dated check most of my cash and my license untill the bank opened on Monday, in exchange for a room for two nights. He asked me to bring ny friends with me, and if what I said was true we had a deal. I walked back to the coffee shop and just sat in front of Tina and Jesse with this long sad look on my face intentionaly dragging it out until they couldnt stand it any longer . Finally they asked me; well ! what happened ? I dragged out the doom and gloom even longer. I looked Tina and said; well…  it looks like were sleeping in the truck for a couple days. Tina shit her pants and started crying and saying ; ” I’m going to call my mom to come get me” unfortunatly we were snowed in. So I told her that wont work. And then I proceeded to rip the bitch a new and enlarged asshole for making Jesse and I drive 600 plus miles just for her fucking suitcases and having to go through all this shit because she was too fucking spoiled and lazy to just get on a greyhound.

When I was finally done acting like we were screwed to the max, and had convinced Tina was fucked for the weekend I told them both that we could have a room but had to convince the desk clerk that she was pregnant. I told her that with that gut of hers no one would doubt it. You could tell she fucking hated me. But she knew she was in no position to argue. All three of us walked down to the hotel, when we got there the clerk took one look at Tinas belly and said “well alright my friend , we’ll take care of the little lady and her bundle” and asked me to fill out the card. I wrote the check out, but he was very nice and said I wouldnt have to leave my watch,  bracelet or license.

By this time it was snowing like a bitch. We got our room , got settled and I’m pretty sure I went right to sleep. I remember doing a big old sour line and a shot right before that. I guess at that point it didnt matter how much shit I did, I was fading fast, I needed rest.

I guess it was 4 or 5 hours later I woke up to the sound of Jesse fucking Tina. I continued to lay there and pretend I was still sleeping. It was hilarious, she sounded like a squeeky bicycle. He was busting his ass with all his might and she was just going eek, eek, eek. I think one stroke accidentally ended up in her poop chute because out of knowhere she let out this blood curdling scream and then went right back to eek, eek,  You know Jesse was higher than a kite because he was fucking a hundred miles and hour for at least an hour and still couldnt cop a nut. Tina started crying and begging him to get off while saying ” you’re gonna wake up Micky” not that she cared about my sleep one bit. She just thinks  seeing her naked is some kind of treat for any guy. Or couldnt stand the humiliation of anyone knowing that she put out.

Finally I got tired of listening to this feeble attempt at sex and told them both to shut up, the room is in my name, got it? The  next morning I was once again taken back by the power of mother nature. The truck was completely buried in snow. All I could see was the antenna.

Later that day around noon we got our shit together (shots and lines) and started cruising around Weed on foot. At that time in my life I had no taste for this little one gas station town with a population of maybe 1 or 2 thousand people. Looking back from where I’m at now as a “real” adult I would love to move there. Although Hawaii is home I have taken a great liking to the seasons and cool crisp weather. In my other travels I’ve done my share of seeing the spleandor of the North west coast, but never in the winter.

As we cruised we decided to look for a bar (the motel cashed a small check for us) We found a nice little “hole in the wall” type bar. This is actually my favorite kind of bar. No disco shit or anything fancy, just good rock a few cuties and a pool table. My kinda place.

Of all the coolest things that happened was when I started talking to the barmaid and it turned out she was from Hawaii. She even knew quite a lot of the people I knew back home. Being an alcoholic and an addict I naturally had an interest in chumming up to this potential piece of ass for more than just pussy. Booze ! And it worked ! Shots and beers all around , all day long ,as long as I would sneek my friend the barmaid (forgot her name) into the head and pack her nose every couple hours. It was a good time like not too many I’ve ever had. We closed the bar at about 2:30 am and grabbed my friend the barmaid(yea I got that). We were quite a sight. The four of us had the hardest time walking to the hotel due to the ice on the sidewalk. Something I was completely new at. When we got the hotel I took my friend right into the bathroom and fucked her brains out with the full intention of making as much fucking noise as possible. I wanted Jesse and Tina to get the full effect of what it was like to have to listen to that pathetic attempt the tried to pull off the night before. My new little  friend got in on it too. She was howling her fucking brains out too,, on purpose just to help me rub my master fuckmanship into Tina and Jesses face and ears. Its hard to fuck like hyeenas and scream like your in some poorly made porno and not laugh at the same time.

When we came out of the bathroom Jesse and Tina were just getting ready to leave. I told Jesse and Tina ” paybacks a bitch , aint it ? Ha Ha !”  None of us could help but laugh. It was all in good fun in the end, we all got a pretty good laugh out of it.

I dont remember too well if we stayed till Monday or Tuesday but the part for the truck came one of those mornings. Seeing as how the highways were snowed out all weekend and just about anything but a tank was not allowed on the road it was probably Tuesday the bank let us cash a check for a couple hundred, we got the part and it was installed. I assume we left Weed early because we got back to L.A. around 2 or 3 in the morning the next day.

About half way down to L.A. Tina started bitching to Jesse, saying he was driving to fast and she wanted pancakes and shit and God knows what else. My underlying hatred for her and what she had put us through was still there, so to say the least I really didnt want to hear any of her requests or demands. Finally I just snapped and went into a blind rage of ballistic fits. I got right in her face spitting and screaming told her that if I heard one more word out of her I would put her on a greyhound. This sour spoiled little bitch had just eaten away at my last nerve. I dont know what the fuck Jesse saw in her. All she ever did was sit around like princess and look at herself in a mirror and ignore everything around her. Nothing but a fucking Yoddel with some make up and a hole.

We finally got back to Norwalk at about 2 or 3 in the morning. Jesse dropped me at the shop and took the bitch home. The next mornrng Bill ( the third partner) came thru the office door and  started screaming his brains out like some maniac. ” Where the fuck has everyone been?”

I told him what happened and why , and then proceeded out the door to the liquor store and got some goodies and then  to the nearsest motel about 3 blocks away. Got a room , drank a shit load of Jack and didnt come out for 2 days. I think I slept for 48 hours straight. Not even waking up for a drink.

Fucking bitch.

( By the way, I found out a few days later that Tinas family ate the deer)

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18 Comments

  1. Sheesus. You did all that just for a piece of ass?

    And one not even your own?

    I want to party with you, cowboy.

  2. What a great story, man! Seriously, you have lived the life that most people secretly dream about. I thought that I had some crazy adventures in my life, but I pale in comparison. It’s good to see that you could live the life without it consuming you as well. It’s rough sometimes. From the sounds of things, and from your previous posts, it sounds like you came pretty close… But you’re also the toughest son of a bitch I’ve ever met, and I have to say that I’m certainly prouder than hell to know you.

    Thanks for keeping it real, bro. You’re an inspiration to us all.

  3. oh yeah, and and once again I will say that you severely underestimate your writing ability. You’re really very good.

  4. Well, I don’t know if it’s true or not, but that’s one hell of a story, micky2. What happened to your anonymous barmaid? Did you ever see her again? And did they really eat the deer? Come on!

  5. The barmaid went home the next morning and we dug out , she had an old man and it was a small town.
    Before we left Tinas house I told them how to bleed and skin the deer. I’m sure you’ve heard of Venison. Part of my culinary training involved learning how to break down beef and pork slabs and quarters. I spent a week at a slaughter house watching the whole procedure from live to the shelf
    Bill Whiting owns the polishing shop( High Tech Polishing) solely in Santa fe springs Ca. Him and his wife ousted Jesse Beccera when they finally got tired of his shit. I left after rupturing my esophogus in Norwalk.
    That story is in ” Thoughts from a recovering addict”

  6. No way. I don’t believe any of this, not one word. Do expect me to believe you drank that much and did that much crank…four days? As a recovering alcoholic I don’t like telling my stories to strangers, though my group always asks me to. I just don’t know what one learns from these over-blown tales. It’s best just to move on, as I have. In your story you fail to make any qualitative judgments about yourself and your odd-ball behavior. It’s as if your proud of all of this; it’s as if you still get a sort of high by lying about your glory days. I only hope you can arrive at some place where you can look back and see the errors of your ways. That’s what I’ve been able to do.

    Also, Mickey, shooting a big game animal out of season is against the law in all of the lower 48 states. And hunting at night is prohibited. Discharging a firearm in a residential area is a no-no too. You might want to check with your local game warden. I can’t imagine these people listened to your instructions on how to “bleed” the deer. My guess is that it was taken to the woods and left to rot. That, too, is against the law…the wanton destruction of a big game animal. If any of this is true-and I don’t think it is–you need to go back to Oregon and make it right with the Game and Fish. In my program, we have to go back and try to make all of our problems right with the people (and animals) we have hurt.

    DaveZ

  7. I never said we did all the crank. And if you truly have been to one meeting you would know that my consumption for an alcoholic at his peak is the status quo. 4 days is nothing for a good crank head, you should know this, I heard you crank a good head. If you’ve been to any meetings or have a program you also know that honesty is the foundation for anyone to achieve and maintain their sobriety, and I have plenty more of that than you do.
    And then like an idiot you chastise me for shit I did while I was high and freaked.
    Do you really with any clarity of mind think after reading this I had any regared for the law in those days ?
    If you sincerly doubt me you are welcome to investigate. Untill then you should hold your piece.
    If I were out to impress anyone it certainly isnt you.
    What a fucking idiot.
    Your program is bullshit.
    If you were truly working a program you wouldnt do and say half the shit you do.
    Quite frankly I could give shit if you of all people believe me.
    I if I make amends or not its none of your concern, even if I have made them.

    Dave said;
    It’s best just to move on,

    Please do.

  8. What, DaveZ got an avatar? Is that Robert De Niro from The Deer Hunter?

    Incidentally, what you say is true, micky2: he does crank a good head. But he doesn’t know how to bleed a deer. He does, however, know how to purchase a dildo.

  9. Aw, this is cute. I.ve got Anti and Dave over at my place now.

    In all serious gentlemen, before this thread goes any further I have to say a couple things.
    The stories I tell are absolutly true. And for Dave or anyone else who must know why we as alcholics tell these stories the reason is evident at any AA or group meeting .
    We share our stories so the next guy can see and realize that he is not alone and not unique. It is so that by this comparison we can see that if this guy can make, it so can I.
    This story is for entertainment of course, but the message remains the same.
    The only way I could ever of gotten sober was to start being as honest with myself and those around me as possible The possibility is limited by the fact that honesty without sensitivity is brutality.
    Up until I was about 35 my life was display of ego, arrogance, and selfishness.
    The drugs and liquor have led me to do some incredible shit. And since I stayed high always with no sobriety accept for prison times, you can bet your ass almost every day was an adventure.
    But if anyone is to be helped by my stories other than getting a chuckle , I also have to be taken seriously.
    After I got a clinical release from a 1 year treatment facility I returned to L.A and had a visit with Jesse, who was no longer with the company. He was basically acting as a broker between a mass of refinishing shops. Bill and his wife had moved the shop to Santa Fe springs. Without having two rabid freaks hanging around High tec polishing has grown not only to much larger volume . It also employs 50+ people and has expanded into the chrome business. Bill and tony Whiting are now the sole propriotors and even though I have been sober for quite some time Tony (bills wife) wants nothing to do with me.
    Although when I did open my own refinishing shop she was instrumental in getting me started , because my finished materials would be shipped to High tech for chroming.

    And Dave, I’m going to say this with all sincerity.
    At this stage of your sobriety it’s in your best interest to listen and not preach or dictate or critisize.
    I have picked many guys like you up out of the gutter and put them back on their feet.
    Its what I do.
    You have nothing to offer me except for a view of what I used to be like. Which is really the whole purpose of newcomers at meetings. The sight of a newcomer dirty and shaking is what keeps us humble and in check.
    Soon I will write about my year in treatment and all the detox facilities I’ve been to previous to that. Hopefully then you will have some light on my actions and understand a little better.

  10. Antisocialist,
    Don’t follow me over here to this site and insult me. I’m trying to repsone to Mickey’s story in a helpful manner. I think he should try to get this published, as fiction of course, because just look at all of this rich stuff in the story. I realize now that it isn’t true, that he never intended it to be true. It’s kind of like Fargo, the movie. The writers just threw that “Based on a True Story” and everybody ate it up. I think that’s what Mickey’s doing here. I think it’s brilliant, fantastic.

    A few suggestions though.

    I think it should read, “The waitress was nice enough to give us a few kidney shaped tokens for coffee.”

    And then, “It was a deer. A little, kidney-sahped buck.”

    And this, “I look like a cross between Ted Nugent and Bett Midler.”

    And this, “I remember doing a big old kidney-shaped & sour line and a kidney-shaped shot before I went to bed.”

    Those are just some ideas. Nothing is set in stone. If you don’t like them, don’t use them. But if you do, feel free to use them. You’re welcome to them. I hope this helps. Try one of the community college journals, they love these kinds of short stories.

    You’re welcome. No need to thank me.

    DaveZ1

  11. Hey Micky,

    You posted that last one while I was writing my own. Had I read yours first I wouldn’t have posted what I wrote. I was only joking around with the AS. I do believe your story. I always did. I was just kidding. You nailed it when you said that at this point I’m just an observer in the meetings.

    DaveZ1

  12. I like play smart ass as much if not more than the next guy,
    But when it comes down to recovery, I am a dead serious motherfucker.
    I am by no means the king of sobriety.
    I fallen down many times and fucked up. But I do have enough experience and education in the area to help those that want it.
    Life is not perfect , I am still an asshole, I scream, I throw fits at times, I say terrible things.But the difference now is that I see and am able to deal with these faults on a sober basis without getting wasted everytime a bird shits.

  13. Knew this guy named Jerry Godbie. Miner. Big boy. Forties. Strong. Droll sense of humor. Like clockwork, every single time someone told him a story, Godbie would pause at the end, then say “Well, I don’t know if it’s true or not, but it’s a pretty good story.”

    That’s all I was doing, micky2: echoing old Jerry Godbie. Never doubted you.

    DaveZ, on the other hand, with his kidney-shaped lines, is full of nonsense. You are advised to doubt him at every turn.

  14. I couldn’t get past this part: Ted Nugent and David Lee Roth. WTF? You must have been a site! I love that song Stranglehold for some reason…

    Hey, this trip reminded of that Beavis and Butthead adventure when they took the peoti. What a crazy trip.

  15. That should have been “sight.”
    I’m having a little “trip” of my own with a very dull glass of wine.

  16. Fish net ass on my leathers, silver beads braided into my hair, silver up to my elbows.
    You know, the kind thats never been in a band.
    Thanks for dropping by lady.

  17. Micky2, this is a powerful funny stuff. This reminded me of my tweaker peeps and their misadventures lol. The ones that are still standing, that is 🙂 DaveZ is right you should seriously consider getting this published as a short story. cheers.

  18. Always a pleasure when you drop by Harmonie, thanks 🙂


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