i guess thats what happens when you drink too much

Here are the results of the booze census. Well, most of them. I only wrote down the first couple days. I hope my memory is as good as it used to be.

MONDAY

• 3 Curveballs (pryamid seasonal beer)
• 3 Bud Lights (bottles)
  
• 1 Jager Shot

TUESDAY

• 3 Strawberry Margaritas
• 1 Fat Tire (16oz draft)
• 1 Gordon Biersch Marzen (bottle)
• 1 Pabst Blue Ribbon (can)
• 2 Bud Lights (16oz cans)
• 1 Red Headed Slut
• 1 Bud LIght (bottle)

WEDNESDAY

• 4 Bud Lights (Bottles)

THURSDAY

• 1 Full Sail (bottle)
• 3 Budweisers (24oz cans)
• 3 screwdrivers

FRIDAY

• 1 Tire Bite(?) (bottle)
• 1 Negro Modelo (bottle)
• 2 Sake Bombs
• 1 Sapporo (glass)
• 1 Cabo Wabo shot

SATURDAY

• 1 Fat Tire (32oz draft)
• 2 Bud Lights (32oz draft)
• 1 Mickey's (40oz bottle)

SUNDAY

• 3 Buschs (Can)
• 2 Jager shots
• 1 Gin Gimlet

I should be dead. There were two birthdays and two shows this week, so that should account for some of it, right?

as the hair goes, so goes the nation

There is an epidemic. It's raging. It has reared it's head and taken from us. It has taken the form of blades, scissors, razors, and clippers. Haircuts, EVERYWHERE! Gabe, myself, Whit, Robby, Danny, and probably you. Beards are even falling victim. beware.

the great booze census, 2007

I was trying to figure out an activity to do while I do what I do best, drink, and I decied to keep a written log of all that I drink over the next 7 days. In high school we did it with food, so I will do it with booze. I'm gonna get a tiny little pocket sized notebook thing and keep track of everything I drink from today, Monday to Sunday. I will post the results and pictures and fun here in one week.

is that a hernia in your pocket or are you happy to see me?

So, I live with Whit. And Tricia. And their two kids. It is a cozy little arrangement and I love it. So thursday the youngest put a tinker toy in the toilet and Whit flushed it. No big deal, did a little plunging, everything was fine. But the next time I went to the bathroom I had to plunge too. With that in mind I skip my usual pre-shower shit and go about my routine getting ready to work. On my way to Chili's I tell myself "No big deal Anthony, just shit when you get there. It will be slow." I was right, it was slow. About 2 1/2 hours into my shift I get the most intense stomach pain I have ever had in my life. Not a slow build, but an all out ninja-sneak-attack on my insides. But not my insides, it feels like a knife is getting shoved through my belly button. I go into disaster mode, ITS A HERNIA!!!!! IN MY BELLY BUTTON!!!! NO INSURANCE!!!!! I'M FUCKED!!!!! I tell the manager I am dying, I get someone to stay and close for me, I tell everyone I work with I have a hernia, I start thinking what good organs I have left to sell to cover the operation. Then glorious Whit asks me about the poopoo situation. I HAD FORGOTTEN TO SHIT! I do it, I feel a little better. I leave work, get some generic gas-x, poop a little more, and OH GLORIOUS DAY! No hernia for me.

I was thinking about it, and I think I did actually have a hernia, but when I verbalized having a hernia it healed itself. Usually when I talk about something great/horrible out loud it doesn't happen. I might be right on this one. Or I might not.

thursday night's alright for fighting

I live across the street from a wonderful drinking establishment called THE SILVER SPUR. It's a place of glory previously unknown to me. There are spankings by spatula, an occasional opportunity to wash glasses for beer, and more often then not breasts. Last night none of those things happened, at least that I saw. Last night there was a fight. If you listened to the participants afterwards there were chariots and bears and flaming honeydew melons and Rasputin rose from that water grave to help the mob secure victory! But as an biased bystander, with part of the story, it goes like this: Guy 1 gets mouthy, Lady 1 tries to throw him out, Guy1 comes back in, Guy 1 kicks Lady 1 in the back, then runs outside Guys 2-9 run out after him, I mosey out to watch, Guy 1 is on the ground, Guy 1 is up, Guy 1 takes off his belt, Guy 3 kicks him 3 times, 2 times falling on his ass, Guy 1 runs down the street, I go inside. Everything else is here say from that point on, but I am pretty sure I saw Guy 1's belt in possession of Guy 4, like a trophy. In honor of the fight I went to the jukebox and with the help of Tony put together a quick mix. The whole point of this story is to show you the mix. Our table appreciated it. Everyone else was to busy patting Rasputin on the back.

• Street Fighting Man - The Rolling Stones
• Mama Said Knock You Out - LL Cool J
• Hurricane - Bob Dylan
• Fight the Power - Public Enemy

Realizing today we should have put Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting on there. Next time.

We were perfect when we started...

Whit brought it to my attention in the dining room today I haven't updated in a week. A bunch of fun stuff happened, so we'll start with this and move on.

This saturday (April 14th) was the wedding. I didn't take many pictures, but I did take this one of the first dance of my cousin Amber and her new husband Ryan. I got to meet the family, see my parents, I danced a little too. I ended up going stag, which was fine. There were no white drugs, no sex in bathrooms, no knocked over tables, nothing more embarrassing than an average night out with me. It was just the way it was supposed to be. Now don't get me wrong, there were shots with my dad and a dozen or so free beers and the requisite hitting on taken women, but not on the Katrina level that was predicted. There is definitely something that runs in a Booth's blood that makes for quite the party participant. The youngest of the 3 cousins was the maid of honor and well on her way to vegas drunk before the food was even served. My aunt was running around trying to round up single girls to introduce to me. It was exquisite.

More to come.

I can party, it's the blogging that is suspect

I am always looking for new opportunities to get Vegas Drunk in places that are not Vegas, so in that pursuit I will be attending the LA Blogger Party with Whit. It should be very exciting for all parties involved. I will be wearing a short skirt and no panites.

in case of rapture

As a child, many of my days were spent going to school; a private, non-denominational, although attached to a baptist church, christian school. Actually, every day of education from when I had my own nap pad to a diploma were spent there. We can talk about what it did to me as a person another time. One thing it did hook me up with was a fear of the rapture. Now that fear has pretty much left my mind now, but when I was kid it was in full effect, especially the first couple of years in high school. If there was non-school day when I didn't hang out with anyone, and I called a couple of friends and they weren't home, I would immediately start worrying the rapture had happened. Everyone got picked up and I missed the boat. I had my own rapture test though. His name was Dustin Schramm. If I thought the rapture had gone down without me I would call the one person I was friends with who I knew would have been picked up. If he was home, good, no rapture, I was safe. If he wasn't I would go to my second source, CNN.

Needless to say the rapture didn't happen any of those times I did.

The point was yesterday felt like a rapture day. Not that I thought anyone had been raptured, I don't think many of my friends would fall into that boat at this point in our lives, but that after I got off work I couldn't get a hold of anyone. So instead of tracking down Dustin Schramm I went home and drank a beer. Then I went to bed.

A small part of me still wondered though.

Each time you turn a corner, you are right back to where you were

I read a book over the last couple of days. Life After God by Douglas Coupland. I broke a tooth in half eating a salad. I remember hearing about existential crisis (<---definately my head right now) when taking a class and reading The Stranger by Camus. The book reading and the tooth breaking have put me in full crisis mode. The pain from the tooth is minor. I don't even miss it. I don't trust my body, and it doesn't trust/like me. We have an understanding. Maybe. But minutes after the tooth breaking I realized that I had to figure out a way to do something with my half tooth still in my mouth. I could leave it and embrace my future as quality Antelope Valley resident, or I could go to a dentist and spend money I don't have to reach some sort of healthier alternative. So I have that going for me. I keep going over and over in my head how I am going to take care of this and at the same time I finish reading this book. I'm fucked, mentally. I flip-flop from walking out of the house getting in my car and never coming back, taking the 300 bucks and hole in my mouth to a new place or falling in line. Going to college, getting a career, buying a car, buying a house, getting married, having kids, smoking cigars, hanging myself. I woke up with a brand new exciting stomach pain. It must be the ultimate me trying to get out, ripping my insides to pieces in the process. I have never hated myself so much before. I have never been happier. I am going to the dentist.

vegas drunk

I was reading a book that talked about stages of drunk. For me, my maximum drunk is vegas drunk. Vegas drunk only occurs in vegas, hence the name. Untill last night.

Let's set the scene. Tortilla-less breakfast burrito for breakfast. Dinner salad and french fries for lunch. 2 large draft Guiness. 1 Brandy & Soda. 1 Corona. Soy Beans. Sake Bomb. Sake Bomb. Sake Bomb. Sake Shot. Sapporo. Sapporo. Sake Bomb. Sake Bomb. Sapporo.

BOOM!

VEGAS DRUNK.

I never really know I am vegas drunk untill I fall asleep. Not in a bed. Usually at a table (see above). I don't think I slept at table last night. I did dance on a chair and almost fall onto the table a couple of times. I remember the waiter with the headset saying "Anthony, be careful. Dont fall on the table." But I don't think I slept. Not till we got in the car. And everyone else got out and went to a strip club. And I slept.

Vegas drunk is good. The best thing about it is the bloody marys in the morning. But there are no bloody marys this morning. I just need a ride to my car.

in the business they call this a "booth-date"

*a booth-date is an update on a booth, particularly myself.

It's time for a list again. Here we go:

• That map is the route I will someday take to Minneapolis. I don't know when, I don't know for how long, but it has been decided that I must go.
• Soy-Taco is a wonderful tasty treat.
• Black Out Tuesdays have now spread to include MuthaFuckinMondays and Where's my pants? Wednesdays. A 3 day holiday drinking festival that sometimes includes a Surprise Sunday. My liver should be moving out before I make it Minneapolis.
• I have regained my faith in Red Bull and Vodka.
• I am becoming a cheaper date by the day.
• Most of my friendships are getting stronger, some are falling apart, a couple are gone forever.
• I have a filthy mind and a filthier mouth.
• I spend more time outside.

crosses on calendars - mix

I've been putting this mix together for a couple of days, trying to find familiar stuff and new/different stuff to make it cozy enough but interesting enough that it makes it through more than one listen. I made it not so much for a friend, but with a friend in mind. I wasn't going to put it up, just burn it and give it away, but my landlord (and pal) whit put up some post about seven songs on saturday and I thought "perfect, I have mix!" This one makes me pretty happy, it turned out well and is more suited towards late night driving listening than early morning jogging listening. Now I must get back to the outdoors and my beer. Enjoy.

Crosses on Calendars - http://www.megaupload.com/?d=YO137BKZ

• Running To Stand Still - U2
• Jaws Theme Swimming - Brand New
  
• Outro In No Minor - The Anniversary
  
• Trees Get Wheeled Away - Bright Eyes
  
• I Keep A Diary - Braid
  
• Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels) - The Arcade Fire
  
• Untitled - Against Me!
  
• Summer In The City - Regina Spektor
  
• Ships - The Weight
  
• Anybody Wanna Take Me Home - Ryan Adams
  
• Mexico - Samiam
  
• Rusted Wheel - Silversun Pickups
  
• Calendar Girl - The Stars
  

the disco before the breakdown

The name of this blog, both of them, come from a song on an Against Me! ep called "The Disco Before the Breakdown". Something about that thing hasn't hit home so much as it has today. I'm drinking water and coffee, trying to shake the booze from my head from last night. I'm putting off showering before going to work. I am checking my outbox/outgoing phone calls. I'm trying to remember last night, and the last time it was this hard to remember. I told my friend Kierin I am a walking bonfire. I think I might be right. I'm not sure if I am at the disco or the breakdown. I'll keep you posted.

pray for cambria

In less than a month, I will be attending a wedding in Cambria. Weddings are fun, I like to cry at them. It is for my half-cousin (she is a full person, just half booth blood) who I have never met. I haven't met any of my half-family (see previous parenthetical statement). This makes me excited because I like to meet new people. Now here is where things get interesting. My dad and stepmom are flying out from Texas. At christmas we (myself and my ex) told them that we would go, so they booked a double room/suite/townhome/thing to stay at. Well now I am still going. I told my dad a couple weeks ago that I was going to bring a date. No problem. I talked to him last week, and he made sure that I was still coming and was bringing a date. I told him yes, but that things had changed from date to platonic friends and that we were still going to go together and just hang out and fun. No Problem. So 2 days ago I get a call from him to tell me that my half-aunt told him that there going to be some single girls at the wedding (my half-cousins, all 3 of them, are within 2 years of my age in either direction). No Problem. Then later I get a message from him saying he wanted to talk about how I was getting there. Strange, because it had been discussed everytime that I and whoever was going with me were going to drive up the day of the wedding.

Yesterday he called me and told me my stepmom wasn't comfortable with someone she hadn't met staying in the same room.

WHAT!

It was fine when it was my girlfriend and there was the possibility of them waking up to us bumping uglies. And It was fine when it wasn't my girlfriend with the same possibilities. But now that it's platonic it's not ok??!?!?!

From the same woman who was "doing" my dad in our house while he was still married to my mom (who coincidentally was "doing" someone else too, but just not in our house)? The same woman who the first time I met was crying on the front porch at 2 in the morning asking to come in and see my dad? Yes, the SAME woman.

What does that say about her faith in my choice in friends/women? What does that say about what she thinks about me?

The idea was thrown out that me and my friend tim go to the wedding instead. Tim and me, both single, at a wedding, probably a worse idea than my platonic friend coming with me.

What this brings me to is this: Pray for Cambria. I am PISSED! So this wedding is going to get me on overdrive. I'll still wear my long sleave shirt (as requested by every person alive who will be there who's paid more into social security than me) and I'll still shake hands and be polite, but as soon as the I DO'S are DONE, so is cambria. Sleaves will be rolled up. Drinks will be drank. Drugs will be done. A whirlwind of booth is going to go through that reception, and those people will never see me again.

I'm thinking of wearing the suit the principal from the breakfast club wore so I can say "you mess with the bull and you get the horns" and mean it.

sleep

...makes you realize that the night before was good. Sometimes you have to be away from it to figure it all out.

i came to see you up there in intensive care

i told whit today if i had a stroke while watching basketball to let me die. i couldn't afford to go to the hospital.

i was right.

i can't afford anything. i don't want to.

i had an afternoon/evening that was short on substance and long on everything else.

joni mitchell was right, but she couldn't see the forest for the trees.

i must sleep, alone and comfortably.

a mine gutted of it's contents

I sat in an empty house, ate a burrito and watch a movie. The Last Kiss. At some point in the movie everyone was in an empty house, by either decisions of others or their own. I identified with them. I remember when I moved out of this house on avenue M, when it was empty of all of it's contents, it felt like I had never been there before. And it felt like I had always been there and belonged nowhere else. That house had a lot of windows. I am beging to think my happiness has a large correlation to the size/amount of windows where I am living.

There were a few arguments among the characters in the movie. And I couldn't help to think about how most of the time no one understands our decisions or motivations for them. We are all there, at one end of the conversation, trying to explain ourselves, knowing that the other person can't/won't understand. And we all end up on the otherside too. If we could just remember what it is like from one side to the other, life would be better.

last one out of liberty city, burn it to the ground

Right around the time I started drving, I began listening to a lot of Less Than Jake. All the time. I hated Lancaster, I was not enjoying the demise of my parents marriage, and I wanted to move away. Today I was listening to "Hello Rockview" and all those feelings came flooding back. Or rather memories of those feelings. And some of them are still true, and some are long dead. And it is making me feel like I sold out, or am about to, the next chance I get. I don't like it. I guess I'll just have to give away some soup.

who's that lady who won the boston marathon and only ran a mile?

I went jogging today. First time I have been running for the sake of running since I could grow facial hair. Being that I'm a "punk-rocker" I put on my running shoes, which are also my dancing shoes, and my ass kicking shoes, and my wedding reception shoes, and my... well you get. I have work shoes and non work shoes. (I would only have one pair of shoes if I wouldn't slip all over the place at work) So I put on my van slip-ons, my black dickies, my irreverent t-shirt, grabbed my ipod, a bottle of water, went to a park and started jogging. I did all right. My first mishap was I set my ipod to 25 most played, and apparently I am a drunk with a taste for sad alt-country songs. Not the best soundtrack for physical activity. Maybe I should as seen it as an omen, because my second mishap was just around the corner. We (being me and my jogging partner (yeah, i had a partner, the only thing I do alone is shower and drink)) would jog some then walk then jog then repeat. It was working all right till I decided to puke. There was a lot, so much so I didn't know where it all came from. I felt like I was on SNL and I was in a puke sketch. It was one of the most satisfying vomits of my life.

things you realize at 3:49 in the morning

• sleeping might help you stay alive, i might lead you to missing life
• mid-day waitresses at breakfast restaurants should not be your proofreader
• the purchase of gift(s) for people who know they are getting them, and fail to mention said gift when you see them next, was an ill-concived purchase
• when you think nothing good can come from zoni's, you are right
• never accept a third/fourth party invitation
• always drink free beer
• when you think you will see someone in a bed later, find the nearest sucker, bet him, reap rewards, repeat
• if you leave a building, and you feel you should be stopped, and you're not, you were never wanted to begin with, and you should never go back.
• the surest way to go somewhere again is to say you'll never go back
• if two people say the same thing about someone they have very little personal knowledge of, it's probably right
• but don't believe them till it breaks your heart
• the squeeky wheel gets the grease, especially if you are that wheel, and you are the third/fifth
• when you least expect it, tangled up in blue by bob dylan will make too much sense
• letter writing is a lost art, and there are reasons why our arts are lost
• as soon as you put down in writing you have yourself figured out, the people who you think deserve to know prove that you were just as nieve and boring as you were before.
• 3:49 alone is better than 3:49 betrayed, even if the person didn't know they betrayed you
• i'll make the same mistakes tomorrow