The Prodigal Daughter

a journal like entry. i think things are on the keel back around.

my friend spun his conspiracy theory of the dead king of po.p not the king of rock or prince, but the first man to do the spacewalk on the planet earth. we share the bike ride home after slinging porn all night. after taking hits from the one hitter that was meant to double as a key chain he departed this theory to me. we shared our feelings about it. it was the only celebrity death that had affected either of us. not at first, b/c it was too surreal at the moment i read it on, yes, a social networking site. it was when i heard a jackson 5 song in the 7 11 the next day that i realized and recollected the totally fucked life that micheal jackson lead.

so clint’s theory is that at some point in the 70’s joe jackson cut michael’s balls off. that was why he had the voice from that age on. it was the reason why he was so small as compared to his brothers, who were big and huge, and as clint described it “michael’s tiny ass nipples”. he is sharing this information at stop lights that later we stopped stopping for. clint said fuck it and we just went. micheal jackson, he related at an intersection, “was asked by opera if he was a virgin, to which michael replied (and i am sure clint was paraphrasing in a falsetto mj voice, not to mock, but just to illustrate) ‘that’s embarassing, why would you ask me that? i’m a gentleman’”. It also explained that Michael was not a child molester but rather A-sexual because he had his balls cut off. He didn’t want the kids he just wanted to be one. The most fucked up thing, was that he was then cursed and blessed to be one of the best performers we human beings could offer to the Heavens. It was not entirely out of the question; it could actually make sense. I wasn’t sure, but I enjoyed the pre rain cooled breeze on my upper arms as we biked, running through lights because we just wouldn’t stop.

When we made it to South Street things were intense. It was mobbed with saturday night trash. Yes, the kind of trash that thinks stop lights don’t apply. Just because the cars can’t move it doesn’t mean that I can’t. FUCKERS. Clint actually forced us through and for that I am in his debt. We parted ways and I was on my own with my thoughts. I was coming to a particular clearness, through several epiphanies i was having about the people in my life and my life right now. What they mean to me, as I know and I can feel a transitional change. It may take a long time but i am getting closer and closer every day. As i was getting more thrilled i continued to speed faster and on the slick rain drizzled road there were two others going just as fast. I braked and they did not. My knee catches the pavement while the bike slides out from under me, ruining my socks. I got up and glared at the dorks with the helmets, even though inside all i could do was laugh and think about the world as a funny fucked up place, and whether or not michael jackson had balls.

Carnival Cruise Lines has recently been promoting themselves by staging large stunts in US cities. Here in Philadelphia they built a giant (supposedly the world’s largest) piñata and promised to destroy it in South Philadelphia at 14th and washington (in the lot where Cirque De Solei usually sets up).

When I got there yesterday at 1:30 pm there was a small crowd around the piñata itself, where they were filming their commercial. They put us (the unpaid extras) behind orange safety cones. We anxiously waited, the destruction of some thing giant and colorful exciting our deep inner selves.

Apparently the Carnival Cruise lines people are not familiar with South Philadelphians, who by nature are very nice but impatient and don’t really like to follow orders. Around 2 pm people started to throw the candy found in boxes around the cone barricade at the PA’s (production assistants). They also told us the destruction was now scheduled for 2:30 pm We were told that we were to stay behind the cones and that a helicopter would fly by and film us (the unpaid extras) waving up at it. At some point there was a rush from the front of the barricade up to the piñata and the director (a man in a fleece who sounded as if he was on ludes) screamed through his bull horn “PEOPLE, NO! NO PEOPLE!”. This was followed by some retreated back to our barricade. This man then told us “These barricades are for your safety. Let’s have fun. Make the city of philadelphia proud. We will not destroy the piñata if you do not behave. You’re going to be a part of history…” blah, blah, blah. Smooth move. At 2:45 pm people started to filter out. A little later the announcement was made that there were technical difficulties, and there would be no destruction. The unpaid extras began to leave.

Now I pose this question…do you think they were ever going to bust the thing or did they just need some unpaid extras to film a commercial for Carnival?

Read an official article here

Tags:
Stunts
Philadelphia
Piñata

Fashion show or mystical event? The LaBolds at their finest.

Look at the set here:
LaBOLD

The Farmhouse Nationals do. Let me explain what the Nationals are to me and about 100 other fun loving Jersey kids are. My friends rent an insane amount of land from some clueless old woman in Pattenburg NJ, which is like the bermuda fucking triangle of Jersey. Imagine if you will a track in the back area of a farmhouse, you must walk up a tire rutted dirt road to get to the track. It had rained the day previous and half the day of the event. So make that a mud road and a mud track. It was a perfect October afternoon as the races started and I had been drinking since around 11 30 in the am. I decided to wear some duck boots that I had found in the closet at my parents house, which proved to be an excellent idea; Angela’s pumas were ruined. If I had real forethought I would have picked up a pair of dickies coveralls and worn those.

When we get there the crowd is somewhat sparse because they’re all at the “track” for the first race. I spot a bar b que smoke truck and I am told that 10 kegs of beer had been purchased. I am also told that campground is still available. I can already smell the meat as I am getting myself another cup of beer. Let me tell you all that I’d much rather enjoy being fat and happy from beer and ribs then any other thing on this planet. I also enjoy a bunch of idiots racing cars in the mud. These cars involved shitty ass late American models complete with chicken wire fronts. There were money races in which the winner collects from a $20 per car pot. It was pretty fucking sweet to get covered in mud and watch them spin out around the hard turn. Kyle’s car got a flat after one race and there was another car driving around the track with the right rear wheel piratically falling off the axel. Ray’s car caught on fire, was extinguished and then run over by a monster truck.

During all of this the vehicle of my dreams and perfect for the track arrived. It was a dune buggy driven by a mad man with a graying mohawk and a thickish accent known well in parts of new jersey that come from a combination of limited vocabulary and saying water in a very particular way. The second I saw that I said “I wanna get the fuck in that”. This dude went around the track several times with some of his friends and then popped up out of the thing and says “who want’s a ride?” No takers were biting, after all this man was driving insanely fast around a mud ridden track in a cage on wheels. The thing was about as muddy as you could get it. He made an attempt to wipe the seat to which I replied by “I don’t give a fuck about the seat!”. A helmet was donated for my safety and we were off. He had made a cross bar in the passenger seat for some thing to ground yourself with. I don’t really know how fast we were going but it felt about 70 and the bushes and mud were smeared together during the ride like an impressionist painting. It was bumpy, muddy, and fucking exhilarating. I was known as the chick that rode the dune buggy after that.

The ribs were served around 6 30 PM and we were all very hungry gluttonous little piglets. The ribs were amazing, they were made slowly the whole day in a smoke truck. I was told they made enough ribs to feed 200 people, but with the way we were eating it was more like 20 (hahaha). I stuffed myself silly (which later I semi regretted). Some NJ punk rock bands known as Post No Bills, and the STDs were there. I changed into my Jerry Only costume and rocked out with the rest of the degenerates of this small scene in Jersey. I think at one point I told someone that there are times in my life that make it all worth it and that this was definitely one of them. THANKS to motherfucking Jersey, hicks, greasers, and punk rockers.

I think there’s something in the delaware river, but i shouldn’t blame it should i? It’s all our own faults. Jim came home from china for a week and we had a bonfire in which no one was spared from making out and i contracted a nasty case of poison ivy again.

see all of the debauchery here.

it was good:

the way back…now backwards:

breanne and william (her father)

alanna and jeff. he called me mam’ alot.

the wedding party

me and my new boyfriend…

the best picture of me in pink ever

i am free.

thanks dan, the pictures are coool. way better than the actual party i think. you can veiw the whole set here.

She’s waiting there with some boy I’ve never seen before, who commences to complain for the rest of the evening. She sure knows how to pick em. We go to baggage claim and wait around the glinting metal carousel for about 20 minutes until we notice that my bag has refused to pop out onto the moving track. It occurs to me that my bag is missing. I have to wait behind the asian man in the plum corduroys who has been with me since albuquerque. I haven’t mentioned that i haven’t eaten since i had that leftover italian it is now (12:30 AM). We talk about getting drinks and end up at John and Peter’s in New Hope. Where i have my first yuengling in 8 months. Kyles buys it for me and it finally feels like I am home.

Scott shows in his peacoat. He looks like a sailor and his hair is cut close to his head. I am relieved to see him and we all make off for the Eagle diner. I commenced to eat a cheesesteak and a piece of scrapple that Angela orders. It feels nice to be back on the east making butt jokes and ripping on Angela because it’s normal and that’s how we show our love. I forget about being tired. I forget about him. I am with the people that mean the most to me at that very moment, of course minus a few. It would be great to see jim or eel but what are you gonna do? They’re in china and i surely send my love. Of course I end up wearing the same clothing for 2 days until my bag arrives. In those two days i can’t get no satisfaction and my parents buy a huge box of liquor. I am drinking right now because the afternoon drunk suits me. I still think about calling. I think about what’s going on with Scott and my Pseudo date with Nick, but most of all I think about the man that stole my heart. I still love him with the pieces that are left.

I am packed. I get home from Ian’s at (4:30AM) and eat my left over italian. I don’t call jen like i said i would because i figure she’s sleeping. I check my e-mail. put on Wilco and make sure everything is packed. At (5AM) I call jen and she sounds asleep. Well maybe it was a few minutes before then. i head over. the steering wheel does an ice burn on my fingertips and there i am. shooing her out of the house because my lack of sleep has turned into impatience. Patience was never one of my strong points to begin with. We are at the airport and forget to give jen a hug. I am an asshole. The flight begins fine. I am only able to sleep when the plane is in the air. I guess it’s the dull roar of the engine that lulls me into sitting up sleep. I hear that we can’t land in houston because of fog cover and that we have to go to San Antonio to refeul.

We commence to sit in the pane for 3 hours while we wait for fuel. By this time i have missed my interchange. Wonderful! I also can’t sleep while we aren’t moving and a man who drives buses in Espanola gives me the number for a dentist in Jaurez. He tells me they’ll save my teeth, and thinking of this i think of him. I look at my phone and notice that he has called. I call back to report the irony that I am indeed sitting in a plane in his home town. Guffaw. I miss you. See you when you get back. We finally leave around (1:30PM) We get into Houston and they tell me I can catch a 2:30 if I fly standby. At this point I am praying to get onto this plane. I want to be home and sleeping.

What actually happens is I get on the plane and we never leave. We taxi and they tell us that the fog in Philadelphia and Houston is just too much. I guess the whole country was covered in fog the only day that i desperately want to get home. We are herded off to sit in the terminal and our gate happens to be right next to an airport bar. I get drunk with a middle aged man and a very thin jamaican med student. He pays for it all. She is loud and entertaining. We talk about life and parenting and being different ages. I am loaded when we get back on the plane (7PM). I quickly pass out to arrive in Philadelphia at (12:00AM). By this point my phone is dead. Angela is waiting outside the gate.