Sunday, February 27, 2011

Late Night Drunken Luthiery

Sept 6, 2009

So the day started off bad, and only got worse.  Yes, that's where our story begins.  In a place called Adrian's bed at 2 P.M. 

After a bad day, I decided to watch the USF game against the nobodys from somewhere called the Terriers.  God USF looked rusty, but the again it was the first game of the season.

During the second half of the game I decided to work on the electric cello project.  It had been mocking me from the living room for some time.  I ended up breaking a drill bit, and a brand spanking new A string.  Those things don't come cheap on cellos.  I got the electronics and electronics cavity fixed.  The only thing left to do was tighten the strings and put her in tune.  How hard could that be?  Much too hard.  So I have to get a new A string which is somewhere between $15 and $25 bucks.  The price depends on the quality you get.  So the cello sits there mocking me.  Laughing at me. 

So then I decide to eat a shit load of tater tots and get drunk.  However, since I weigh so much it is difficult for me to get drunk since I am rationing whatever alcohol I have left.  I decided to make an ultra-mega-frostie-white russian using rum and Godiva liquer instead of vodka and kaluha.  It had a total of 4 shots in it.  I needed to move from a medium sized glass to a bigger glass since it was so big.  It didn't have the same bite as my usual white russian with vodka, but that's ok.  It's still alcohol. 

I then had a great idea.  I would go to work on this guitar I had been aiming to work on.  I got it for a certain someone who I am not allowed to mention their name, and she told me not to get it.  But I got it anyway.  That's right.  The guitar followed me home.  Actually I talked the guy way down on the price.  He knew, that I knew, what the price was all about, and he knew, that I knew, his dealer price. 

I had got these pickups from the internets, so I decided to put it in this guitar for the mystery woman.  I don't know who screwed up the wiring, but I got it fixed.  Of course, I ended up breaking a 5/16th drill bit in the process.  How the fuck do you break a 5/16th drill bit on cheap wood?  I don't know, but I did it.  I am down quite a few drill bits now.  I mean, I really need to go to The Home Depot, and buy four different size bits to reestablish my collection. 

I then strung up the guitar with very tiny strings since mystery woman has very tiny hands.  I plugged in and started playing whatever drunk people play.  It was very bluesy/ heavy metal/ with a lot of reverb, and it was really out of tune.  So I started making up words to Nickelback's song "Animal' which I really hate.

I was jerking off my cock
I went down to Iraq
I left it in the ignition
When I was jerking off in the kitchen

Never gonna quit
Jerking off my dick
Acting like an animal

When I have a load
I blow it out my nose
Acting like an animal

So come on baby jerk it.
Yeah.  Yeah.

So here it is 90 degrees outside.  I'm sweating like a pig.  I think I'm gonna throw up.  I step out into the open air, and there's no wind.  It's like summer camp all over again.  Except without the rape and molestation.  I look up and see the moon overhead, and think, "Man it's a full moon."  (I didn't say it was a great thought)  It was then that I knew that I needed to explore my Pagan nature, as well as get some jogging in.  I might as well burn off that alcohol.  So I went inside put on my shoes, and took some B12 and vitamin C. 

I ran to the next street over because it's much longer than the street I live on.  I start thinking, "Man I didn't realize that it was the full moon.  How do I celebrate my Paganist ways?"  It then came to me.  Fecal throwing contest.  How do I make that connection?  Well, with all the shit that Paganism has put me through the last year it kinda comes naturally.  I'm running by this place I used to work at, and think this is perfect.  I go up to the front door since no one is there this time of night, and drop trou.  (Trou as in trousers for those who don't know the reference.)  Bend over, and blow ass all over the front door.  It was such a great relief in many ways. 

It was a great feeling.  That is until the tom cat that lurks there came out and started giving me shit.  I then grabbed him by the neck and used him as toilet paper.  One long wipe from the back of his neck to his tail.  He then ran off like a pussy.  Unfortunately my ass was now covered in shit and cat hair.  Not as much shit, but a lot more cat hair. 
So by this time I was really tired.  I hadn't gone a quarter of a mile, but with all the noise I thought I better get out of there.  I ran home, and started to feel really sick.  I ran straight into the backyard, and rested against the compost pile.  It was then that I smelled the compost, and that did it.  I threw up massive amounts of tater-tots and alcohol.  I then yelled at the compost, "Eat this you puke sucking worms!  My stomach acid owns you!" 

Now I was covered in shit, cat hair, and my own vomit.  I strip naked, and took the garden hose to myself.  I had the nossel set to Power Soak.  So when I went to spray out my buttcheeks, it sprayed my anus really hard.  It took off some of my sfinckter skin.  I'm sure of it.  Well, now I was somewhat clean, but my clothes were ruined.  I just put them in the garbage can, and went into the garage.  I couldn't go inside because there were still people awake in the house.  I couldn't just go inside wet and naked and not be asked for an explanation.  So I waited out in the garage.  I put the TV to ESPN, and some college football game was on. 

I sat there disappointed in myself.  I felt bad, so I called the suicide hotline.  The woman answered and it went like this:

Suicide Hotline:  Suicide Hotlink, this is _______.  How may I help you.

Adrian:  Lee Corso is annoucing the game on ESPN, and he's making me want to kill myself.  I get more entertainment from a kid dying of cancer.

S.H.:  Sir, this line if for emergencies only.

A.:  Don't call me sir, I don't work at all for a living.


I don't get Cimemax on the TV out in the garage/ luthier shop or else I could at least play with myself.  They always have something slutty on this time of night.  I waited and waited until I thought the coast was clear.  I got lucky, no one was in the imediate area inside the house, and I quickly made my way to the bathroom where I washed myself down. 

So here I sit.  I still need an A string for my cello.  Most of the music places are closed on Sunday.  Except for Sam Ash.  I hate Sam Ash.  However, they may have the string I want.  I just need one since all the others are brand spankin new.  By the time I get up in the afternoon I may feel different about going there.  Who knows?

It's just been a bad day.  Also for all those people who read this and actually believed it, how gulible are you?  Shiting against a door?  C'mon.  The whole thing is made up.  Except the A string.  I really did break that.

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