[WDT] LOBSTER DAY [NSFW]

I can't think of lobster without thinking of Rock Lobster.



I love that somebody filmed this so well. 1978, a weird band in Athens, Georgia, birthing new wave, at some random small venue. Sure. Ricky Wilson with the middle two strings of his guitar missing, Cindy Wilson & Kate Pierson stoned out of their minds.

 

WHAT IN THE HOLY FUCK IS THAT?

I'm on my phone now, so I can't type very well, but when I get home, I'll tell y'all a cool story.

 

Went to my usual Friday lunch speakeasy for my club sandwich and big Bud Light. They were super slow for some reason so I had finished my beer by the time my sandwich was ready so I got a small Bud Light. As I'm paying the bill the owner asks if I like bourbon. Not really paying attention I tell him "Sure". As I'm counting her tip out, he hands me a tumbler full of Makers. Could make for an interesting afternoon depending on customers.

 

oh god

 

At that point they pretty much didn’t know how to play their instruments. Frankie Goes To Hollywood were the same way, they had two singers and no real musicians, just a bunch of gay dudes who pretended to play them in the video.

The Sex Pistols became legends and they NEVER learned how to play their instruments.

 

COCK LOBSTER!

 

I love me some new wave. As weird as he is, I enjoy some David Byrne.

He micro-managed the shit out of this concert, but my favorite part is at 2:20, where he actually lets down the facade for a bit and just enjoys playing in a band.

 

My favourite band of both New Wave and the 80’s is The Police. My favourite member is not Sting:

 

Speaking of New Wave...

When they first came out The Cars were lumped in with New Wave. They actually inspired my first band and my first foray into song writing. Ric Ocasek had a talent for writing nonsense lyrics that kind of sounded like they made sense, which 16 year old me found inspiration in.

I even remember a bit of the first song I wrote for our band (We were going to be HUGE!) I can't remember whatever the hell I wrote as a riff to back the words, but I do remember I tried to sing it with an English accent for some reason. I was quickly informed that I was not a singer in any way, shape, or form and they took my mic away from me.

Haters.

 

I never got into any new-wave/ whatever bands, but Vaden Lewis of Toadies (one of my favorite bands) said that Talking Heads was his main influence, so I support it.

Anyway, I told y'all yesterday that I had a good story, and here it is: How I pulled one over on my parole officer.

Spoiler

The year was 2017.
When I got out of prison in 2015, I had to parole-out to my dad's house (the Texas parole department won't let you out on your own, even if you own a house. At any rate, I only had my tools, some basic personal belongings, and my sweet-ass Pontiac Firebird when I was released.), and that was registered as my residence.
If you move, or even if you are temporarily staying somewhere else (even for a few days), you are required to notify your parole officer.

"We need to know where to find you at all times" was my officer's reasoning.

Parole officers are also required to do at least one home and employer visit every year, just to make sure that you aren't up to no good. This is a crucial plot point.

Everything had been going well for the first year, but then my usual officer was changed, and after that, I never saw the same person twice.
It was rolling the dice whether I was going to be dealing with an asshole who was going to scrutinize all of my activities and possibly detain me on suspicion of doing something bad, or someone who just wanted to get me out of the office as fast as possible.

I skated by for the next several months, pissing in the cup like a good boy and not stirring things up with the cops.

About six months before my parole term was over, I got a call from an officer FROM A DIFFERENT COUNTY, saying that she was going to be the one doing my employer visit.
She showed up late (she got the address wrong), and told me that that visit was going to count for my home visit for the year.
(An important thing to note is that this was AFTER my dad died January 19th, 2017. Jungle Julia and I had moved into a new house, and I was slowly clearing out my dad's old house.
That old house was still listed as my residence, and I didn't want the parole department to know about the new house; parole officers actually have more authority than the cops when it comes to searching a property*, and I didn't want them showing up and finding Jungle Julia's weed stash. )

I continued with my monthly parole visits, looking forward to finishing my servitude.

In late July, I started getting a weird feeling in one of my molars, so I booked an appointment to get an X-ray with a dentist. The morning of the appointment, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize.

It was a parole officer, saying that my home visit was past due, and it was scheduled for today.

I told him that NO, that's not possible, I already had my home visit.

He asked who did it, and I gave him the previous officer's ID number and explained that it was supposed to count for the home visit.

He said: "Oh yeah, she's always doing things like that; she's old-school. That's not protocol anymore. We have to do a visit today. When is a good time?"

Me: "Uhh, well I don't get out of work until after 6:30, could we reschedule it?"

I needed to buy time, because at this point, I'd already shut off all the utilities at my dad's house, and moved out all the furniture (oh, and did I mention that it was technically already sold to someone else?). There's no way in hell he'd believe I was actually living there. Parole officers are a suspicious lot.

Him: "No, sir, it has to be today."

Me: "Well, sometimes work runs late, and I might not get out until later."

Him: "We work all hours, sir."

This fucker was not going to back down. I've seen his type before.

Me: "Well, then let's schedule for 7:00 PM."

And it was set. I left work for the dentist appointment at about 1:30 (which I immediately cancelled), and told my boss I wouldn't be coming back for the day.
I drove off with a skin-tone the color of the French flag, and feeling like the Grand Canyon was in my stomach.

What the fuck was I going to do? If I just fess-up and tell him that I moved, he will of course search the new house, but I'm probably going to get some kind of charge for not informing the parole department.
I can't say that I'm still living in my dad's old house, because if they did a search on the title/ utility license, it's not in his name anymore.

What would you do in this situation?

I did the only thing I could think of: I was going to tell him I was living at my shop; the shop that does not have running water or climate control, but is technically still on the same piece of property that has my dad's old address.

Now I had to make this look convincing.

I grabbed my work uniforms, some toiletry items, my Yeti cooler, a lamp, and a little barbecue pit, and took all of it over to the shop.
I laid out a sheet of foam rubber in the bed of a truck that had no drivetrain, and dressed it up to look like I was sleeping in there.

I was very well prepared for this officer to call bullshit either arrest me for lying, or at least start proceedings to have my parole revoked.
Well, it wouldn't be my first time getting arrested, and I told Jungle Julia to be ready for it.

I was grilling some chicken when a skinny, hipster-looking guy showed up an hour late.

At first he was skeptical, but I explained that my dad had died, I got kicked out of the house, and this was the only place I had to stay.

HE ACTUALLY FELT SORRY FOR ME, AND GAVE ME INFORMATION ABOUT WHERE I COULD GET ASSISTANCE.

I was expecting to have to explain where I was taking a shower, how I was getting to work, etc., but that wasn't the case.

He even said that I didn't have to go to my final parole meeting.

A little over a month later, I got a letter from the TDC parole department saying that I was a free man.

It worked.

That day was like an episode of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia," but for real.

I will always laugh about this.

 

I'm just saying most seafood, if discovered in the recent past, would be considered inedible, especially things that look like sea bugs.

Halloween is around the corner. Hypothetically, if I was to go as Cardi B for Halloween....where do I start? Like do I just google Latina space drag queen and go from there? Is there like a signature look?

I feel like I just signed up for quite the ordeal.

 

make sure you got a wet ass pussy

 

Walk around with a pot of macaroni and cheese and a spoon. Stir it and tell people you’re Cardi B. Done.

Drink.

Get hungry.

Eat that pussyroni.

 

I was thinking go around with a squirt bottle, squirting everyone in the crotch. Bam! Giving out a bunch of wet ass pussies