and when i do and youre not dead, dont cry for me, because ive lived a life. and it was a good life.
and it was brimming over with young bare titties.
friday night i laid down on my couch at eleven pm because i know any time i lay on my couch after eight pm i will pass out. but murphys law, because i had to wake up at 3:30am to get to LAX at 4:30am to catch my 6am flight i had a hard time falling asleep on my couch, in my bed, anywhere.
luckilly when youre as old as i am you dont need a lot of sleep and when i woke up at 3:15am i was refreshed and ready to go. a half hour later i checked my email for a last time before i hit the road and i saw something fascinating in my gmail, i saw Chris Spooney was online.
baby, i typed.
Tony? OMG! she typed back. and indeed it was my true love in Africa who had made her way to the capital of Uganda to check her email and yep that was her on gmail chat with me. so Google, thank you, that was 15 of the greatest minutes that id had in a long long time.
sped to LAX, parked in long term parking, made it through the gauntlet that is getting onto an international air flight these days. and at noon pacific, three pm ontario time there i was for the first time ever in Toronto canada.
i was met by General Pitt, Colonel Chad, and 19 yr old Mikey from buffalo. we all packed into Pitt’s sportscar and zoomed through toronto to have a pint at a croatian bar to meet Pitt’s fiance, the outlaw bitch.
my oh my was she lovely. as were the beers. i forget what i had but it was dark and strong and smooth. precisely what i needed at noon-ish after a long flight. we also had french fries and brichotto. an hour later we were in waterloo.
we ordered pizzas and pitt got beer as i took a shower and we partied and then went to the matt good show in kitchner.
raymi and fil met us at the door and slid us past the bouncers and ticket people untouched and sheparded us to the backstage/sidestage area. matt had just started and the beers kept making their way backstage to us. we politely drank them all. so many of them.
someone stuck their head through the curtains and raymi tapped me on the shoulder and it was a nice young man who said he had read me over all these years and just wanted to shake my hand. hi canada.
i took some pictures but they didnt really turn out. matt told long funny stories, the kids looked at him in awe and sang along with his every word. more beers arrived and were drunk. the kids shouted out requests and matt obliged to all of them except for the easiest “Show us your ass.” if only i had packed my donkey costume.
matt’s opening act, melissa joined him on stage for a beautiful version of NIN’s “hurt” for an encore, and then matt did four more tunes for the encore. it was lovely. afterwards dozens of people lined up to get his autograph on his tourbus and matt was very generous to them.
then we all went back to our hotel rooms. we were partying very nicely. pitt was being launched across one bed to the other. hockey night was on the tv. tsar was on the music machine. but then midnight struck and i remembered that i had told my readers to meet us at the Stinky Dog. so we got cabs. actually Gwen and her dude drove two of us and the rest piled into a cab.
we got to the Dog which was far fancier than i expected. first thing the doorman asked me was if i was planning on keeping my toque on. i said uh yes? he told me that i wouldnt be wearing it, that they had a dress code. we walked in and almost everyone was already drunk, dressed up, and sorta yuppish. it was a huge place. before i could order a very tall drink to forget that i had found the only yuppies in waterloo i was being told that little mikey wasnt being allowed into the Dog because even though Canada is 19+, the club of yuppies had decided to keep the hat wearing crowd out and the 21- kids out too.
so we caught another cab and asked him to take us to a fun place that was 19+, we were dropped off at a fun place that had bowling downstairs and video games and french fries etc but upon further review it had decided to close early pissing off everyone. now it was 1am and we only had an hour to drink.
everyone was mad. we were there for raymis birthday. but we were all mostly boys so i asked fil if raymi would be upset if we ended up at a strip club. he said no, but i should ask her. i asked her and she had no problem with it. so we asked the cabbie if he knew of a nearby strip club and he said The Doll House and it was 15 minutes away. we climbed in and got another cab to follow behind with the rest of our party and at 1:15a we piled into the Doll House to drink with the naked ladies of Kitchner.
interesting to say the least. it wasnt a very big club but it was loud and lively. the girls were all shapes and sizes. the beers were reasonable and there were just as many female patrons as male.
because time was short, after my first beer i went to the atm to get some lap dancing money but the machine didnt recognize my american debit card. very quickly i had a $60 loan from my pallies and i picked out a very skinny girl in an extremely skanky outfit. fredricks of hollywood turned his nose at this fishnet contraption.
the Doll House has a funny rule that in order to get a lap dance you first have to buy a $20 drink. then you can give the girl another $20 per dance. i ordered a baileys as thats what i drink after 1:30am. we went into the back and she sat on my lap and palmed my bald head as we waited for our song to begin.
“you have good friends,” she said. admitting to having seen them give me money.
“i have the greatest friends in the world,” i told her and added that i woke up in LA and there i was with a half naked girl on my lap who was about to show me her cootchie. she kissed my head and got up. she took an axl rose hankercheif out of her purse and placed it over my crotch and started to dance to the music.
it was terrible music, whatever it was, but the little girl could dance. almost immediately her clothes were off and she was skinnier than i thought. i told her so and she said that she really could stand to gain 10 lbs but she has a very bad tummy, i told her that i did too when i was her age and she spread her vagina lips and said that she can barely eat anything without getting sickly. her lips were quite pliable. far more than necessary. she showed me her clitorus and i blew it a kiss.
she laughed and turned around to show me her boney ass. i drank from my bottle of beer and examined it. very clean. very well groomed. the things the women of this hemisphere do to make themselves look the way they do. i said hi to it too and she touched her knees with her nose and i complimented her flexibility.
she got on my lap and took the beer from my hand and placed it on a little shelf and then took my hands and put them on her body. you can touch the girls in canada i asked? oui she said. i apologized for my cold beer hand and she said, no worries, the better to make my nipples hard, and she placed my hands on her breasts.
oh canada. and in a perfect world she would have just laid there on my lap and let me cup her boobies as i smelled her long hair but she had a dance to perform and my sex need to rub up against something so she did and it did and she put her nose on my buldge and then her chin and what does it say about a man who would have just been happy talking and holding for 15 minutes instead of whatever she was doing to me? gay you say, not really id argue. sometimes you just want to look into someones eyes as she sits her bare ass on your hand.
when i got back to our table chad was destroying everyone at arm wrestling and mikey was holding his own at raymi who refused to admit defeat even challenging the poor boy to left-handed arm wrestling even though he was a lefty. raymi looked spectacular, by the way, no wonder girls are jealous of her.
when the place closed we waited outside in the bitter cold for a cab. i talked to a few girls and made some friends, and the boys they were with became my new enemies and one of them squirted ketchup on my pants but i deserved it, i was overstepping the ladies generosity by handing out my business card and telling tales of hollywood. how does a wigger from waterloo with a white yankees hat on sideways and gold earings and white pants compete with a blogger who will steal your girlfriend at the doll house parkinglot in three minutes and have her naked in ten minutes. even with ketchup on his shit.
at 10am mikey pitt chad and i checked out of the motel and were driving into toronto listening to alan cross’s ongoing history of modern rock. because it was the anniversary of kurdt’s death he was doing two hours of that. it was good. real good. we were one minute late dropping mikey off at the bus station so we ate lunch at the mall downtown and got him on another bus and had a few hours to kill.
so the choice was go up the CN Tower or catch the Blue Jays game already in progress. we had heard tell of $2 tickets in the nosebleeds but for some reason the Tampa Bay game was not one of those special days so we forked over $9 and watched the aces Roy Halliday vs Steve Kazmir. there were probably 20k people in attendence because apparently when theres hockey still aboot noone goes to watch baseball in the dome.
it was so quiet in there you could hear the farts of the players even way up in the sky like we were sitting. when the wave came it felt like a gentle breeze. you could hear the heater click on. when someone in the hotel rooms above the centerfield wall stuck popcorn in the microwave you could hear the ding when it was ready. to liven things up they hired break dancers to perform ontop of the dugout roof. i hurled a discarded plastic bottle at one of them but by the time it reached the roof of the dugout the inning had already started. but still we could see fine.
the pitching duel turned into a 6-3 victory for the visitors which was fine with me since Kazmir is on half of my fantasy teams.
then we went to tim hortens for some donuts. funny thing about toronto, theres a tim hortens for every stop light in town. i played a little game where id hold my breath and wouldnt exhale until we passed three tim hortens. it wasnt much of a game.
adn then before we knew it i was back at pearson airport. and then i was in the plane and then i was watching porn on my ipod and then i was asleep. and now im in LA. and now i miss canada which looked a lot like wisconsin. and yes i could live in toronto no problem eh. and yes i had the best 24 hour road trip ever. and may i thank mr pitt for making it happen.
chad + gwen + the outlaw + little mike
— i slept and slept and slept last night on account of all the traveling i did this weekend. the good news was i woke up early and watched the Sopranos this morning so sheild your eyes if you havent seen the episode yet.
only tony knows how to conduct business right in front of the Man while using the elderly as a beard. only tony knows the fine art of saying no no no and then yes to those who he will need in the long run.
im not talking to you.
first we have a band from SF called 
and when i do and youre not dead, dont cry for me, because ive lived a life. and it was a good life.
i took some pictures but they didnt really turn out. matt told long funny stories, the kids looked at him in awe and sang along with his every word. more beers arrived and were drunk. the kids shouted out requests and matt obliged to all of them except for the easiest “Show us your ass.” if only i had packed my donkey costume.
interesting to say the least. it wasnt a very big club but it was loud and lively. the girls were all shapes and sizes. the beers were reasonable and there were just as many female patrons as male.
when the place closed we waited outside in the bitter cold for a cab. i talked to a few girls and made some friends, and the boys they were with became my new enemies and one of them squirted ketchup on my pants but i deserved it, i was overstepping the ladies generosity by handing out my business card and telling tales of hollywood. how does a wigger from waterloo with a white yankees hat on sideways and gold earings and white pants compete with a blogger who will steal your girlfriend at the doll house parkinglot in three minutes and have her naked in ten minutes. even with ketchup on his shit.
ok this is what we’re going to do going forward.
meanwhile he befriends the soft-spoken old science guy who opens his mind about a lack of Heaven and Hell and a bigger concept of “everything is connected.”
and music was never as good again.
the other day i was in the office of paul tollett the president of goldenvoice and the founder of coachella and he had a illustrated concert poster on his wall. and it said nirvana butthole surfers and tad. and it was right next to his desk. and i said hey i was at that show. forum. december 1994. and it was one of those times when i felt like maybe he believed me maybe he didnt.