Knitting content...can ya believe it? I'm about 50% done with Whitby now...actually, I consider it more like 75% done because the final sleeve will work up so fast it won't even be funny. I wish I could knit on the plane. But I'm sure long haired, bleached blond, tattooed dude and pointy sticks will put a major knot in the ass of TSA agents. Coz I look like a terrorist, right? Well...maybe if the pilot or co-pilot is some major babeage ,I could become a bit of a nuisance. LOL!
We fly out to Ohio Thursday morning...I'm SO not looking forward to this flight. I just hope the fear of post 9/11 in a plane doesn't overpower the Xanax. I remember all too well back in the metal days when we'd be so wrecked and if something freaky happened, having the situation sober you up in the blink of an eye. That happened a few times.
Saturday I picked up Nikki Sixx's book, The Heroin Diaries. I was never a HUGE Motley Crue fan. I liked 'em but I didn't break out over them like I did/do King Diamond or Warlock or Lita Ford. Anyway, I'm about half way through it and it is mind blowing. I can relate to a lot of the pain and fears he's writing tho. It's kinda spooky.
Saturday Night was so crazed it's unreal. The assholes out back had a party which...fine-I'm not an unreasonable guy I don't think. They had shitty music blasting but they had a fucking mixing desk OUTSIDE so this shit was blaring NON STOP It was like the K-Tel record from hell...8 PM came and it was still blasting so after 7 phone calls to the useless police dept in this ghetto I couldn't take it anymore and at 10.30 PM I went psycho on their motherfucking asses. SCREAMING like a lunatic TURN THAT FUCKING SHIT OFF! YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CONSIDERATION FOR ANYBODY BUT YOURSELVES! IT'S 10.30 AT NIGHT! This asshole yells back "It's weekend mon....no work." SO I yelled to go take it back to the ghetto where you belong and bother them. I can't fucking deal with this anymore. SO I popped 2 Xanax, threw some shit in a duffel bag and went into Boston like a fucking lunatic rock star at 11.15 PM and got a room at the Westin....I paid $400 fucking dollars (including a $40 bar tab) for 6 hours of sleep because ghetto trash has no consideration for anybody around them. I SO wanted to do a Sharon Osbourne and throw a fucking roast over the fence but they'd probably have lit the grill and cooked it. If my dad weren't already pissed off enough himself, I would have put some Slayer or Venom on and given them a real concert.
Which leads me to....when people take a holiday and come to Boston...where the fuck do they have breakfast? It dawned on me Sunday morning when I woke up and looked out the hotel window and it dawned on me I wasn't in New York. There are no diners to pop into for a bite to eat. How do visitors eat in this half-assed city? There must be a restaurant or something in the hotel I imagine. I didn't see one.
Since I'm reading his book...let's close this with some rockin' good tune...How about: