Bier de Stone ( wrote,
Bier de Stone

I went out tonight, to a bar in the barrio called the Echo, or possibly better known as attheecho dot com.

I met briefly one of the musicians, offered him a drink, declined, and forgotten.

The main to bands were (mary) Jo Williams, whom I’m sure I will see on late night TV some time soon if I haven’t already missed, and (something) Goblin.

In the span of four hours, I had five or six drinks, the last one being an AMF. BTW, if you aren’t already a computer nerd, and you don’t know WTF I’m talking about when I say AMF, ask me later. I didn’t finish my last drink, but by god, I had the best hot dogs ever made from a street corner vender, which I’m sure has no name. By God, if you’re ever at the Echo Plex, and you find yourself lingering while the last tune plays, trying to sober up, step outside along the Glendale Blvd parking clerk and ask him this: “NO FOOD?” And, by god, he will point you to a lowly couple with weiners on the grill, ready for whatever order you may have, for only $3 a piece, fuck fuck fuck. Screw sex, or the idea that you may or may have not struck out, these hot dogs are to die for. Of course, you would have already have your alloted amount of liquor for the night, but the point is, the hot dogs are fine, fine fine.

I can’t believe I’m saying this. A food review for a non-existant culinary artist. I’m still drunk, as they say. To recollect, I’ve had a pale ale (preferably foreign and european), a whiskey on the rocks, a Pabst, if I got the spelling correct (very cheap, equal to a bud weiser), a car bomb, and finally, a AMF. If you don’t know what a AMF is exactly, then it’s okay to consider yourself NOT A NERD. It is an Adios Mother Fucker, which every bartender should know how to make, especially after asking them whether they know how to make a “Damned if you do” and a “car bomb”

To be clear. I’m not too happy that the bar I was at didn’t have Schwapps (or however you spell it) cinnamon flavor whatever (soda water). I’m getting dizzy. ***

It’s late. I do still work tomorrow. Because I don’t have to be in until 11:40AM I thought it would be fine to party out while I await a fellow blogger equally insane as I, for a chance to be admitted into the greatest woodstock type concert ever. The big four. That’s what this was all about.

I posted an entry on the
  • social club spilling my guts about how much of a failure I am at dating in that I cannot find a single soul interested in accompanying me, for the duration of the route from Los Angeles to Indio, for the greatest concert ever, that I surely would’ve done myself in by now. Fortunately, somebody responded. Wish me luck readers. I’m on my last gourd

    If you can, BTW kind readers, PLEASE remind me to take a can of menudo to work tomorrow (with onions and cliantro, of course)

    As I’ve been saying, I could NOT finish my AMF. I’ve been getting down on myself for that as well. I mean, being really degrading about my manhood for it. But, you know what? I am at that point that I actually looked up “Escorts” in the yellow pages and discovered that an escort costs hundreds of dollars by the hour. Ridiculous! “nough said. I don’t know what I will do, or how I will conduct myself when I do what I will do (about the extra ticket to THE BIG FOUR), but, I’m easily swayed. It’s enough that the first response I get to my entry in los_angeles would merit my acknowledgement of free access. I’m suck a sucker (goober). Call it as you see it

    I just hope I don’t find myself at the bus station completely airhaided in search for a person that doesn’t exist. After all, I’m human too. As far as I can see, I am also ‘good people’. So,. while I may be strange, once you get to know me, I’m as cool as anybody else. I’m going to stop now. I am tipsy, after all. I could go on, rambling. Just so that you know. So. Zip it! and thank you for reading.
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